Keep The Jedi Out Of It

What if Aurebesh but with my calligraphy pen?

I hope you don't mind that I borrowed Chad, Purse and Ellys for quick practice @chadism-101 @fooolisher and @puirell

Boil, while the 212 is relaxing: Sir, if you don't mind me asking, how are you so good at all this war stuff? I thought the Jedi were peacekeepers?

Obi Wan: Oh, I suppose no one ever told you about Melida/Daan, then. Well, when I was younger....

*Thirty traumatizing minutes later

Obi Wan: And that's how I was part of a rebellion and sold into slavery at 13!

All the troopers, in horrified silence:

Wooley, raising his hand: Sir?

Obi Wan: Yes, Wooley?

Wooley, teary eyed: Permission to hug?

Obi Wan, concerned: Of course, are you alrigh-

Obi Wan, buried under several hundred troopers: Little help

Cody: Sorry sir, you're staying here for forever.

Boil: And then a little longer

Humans are now called “star children”.

It is common knowledge that all lifeforms, regardless of origin or existence or if they still exist, come from long-gone stars. By all accounts, there is no single existence that is not a “star child”, even thought there are many beings that do not believe they will ever deserve the title of being born from a star.

However, as the years and decades since humanity first discovered that they were never alone came by, the friends from other planets - or, for a better words, aliens - came to stop merely calling them human.

That did not happen on the span of a decade or two. It took maybe a hundred years for the first little one to decide that “star child” would be a name better fit for the common human. Slowly but surely, the title stuck, but not everyone will be able to tell you why that happenned.

Maybe it was because of their crooked hands, able to do so much with so little. Maybe it was their fascination for documenting everything, or maybe it was because of the hundreds of star patterns they loved to wear and decorate their spaceships with. Some even believe it was because of the human soul, and how it would stick to the physical plane even after death because it couldn’t understand that it was dead and it was time to say goodbye.

No, no. It wasn’t because of that. You see, they are not called star children for bringing wonder to everything. They are not called that because of their endurance, or their wits, or their imprudence. They are not called star children because their nature is extraordinary or so fantastical that the word “human” cannot fit it all inside. Every single creature, regardless of their intelligence, should be called a “star child” if that was the case, because every single living being is fantastical by merely existing.

There are aliens just as smart, just as strong, just as enduring and just as weird as the little humans and their crooked hands and their millions of libraries and their star patterns.

But when they invented a way for stars to live longer by harvesting their energy, and when wars arrived and they volunteered to take every single one they could to safety, and when they decided to dedicate their entire lives to caring of others, and when they terraformed planets that were too far gone, and when they documented every single living creature they ever found and when they debated the best ways to classify and understand them, and when they shared their art and when they made inventions so anyone could experience said art, and when they despite everything choose to keep their hopes up…

Oh, dear. That was a moment in which some of the aliens decided that “star child” would be a proper title, for only someone who remembered their origins and how they connected to other forms of existence, without ever thinking that they are better than the rest, could ever have been so stubborn to help.

And, soon enough, the humans accepted the title. They decided to stop arguing, for it was the better course of action, and embraced it. Now, the star children are most well-known for caring for their distant siblings. Not for how, many centuries prior, they once killed their own planet.

But star children are quite old, compared to the rest. And, as the oldest sibling, they must make sure no one will ever do the same mistakes they once did.

———-

Thank you for reading this! If you liked it, consider giving me a ko-fi or commissioning me! Links are in my fixed post. Have a lovely day! <3

I like stories where a normal human child is being raised by a sinister supernatural being who is totally malevolent except when it comes to their kid. Those are so much better than the “kids are scary” changeling type horror movies.

you know how most of the things humans use as spices are poisonous or repellent to most other mammals? and you know how anything vaguely d&d inspired has dwarves being way more poison resistant than even humans?

dwarf cuisine shouldn’t be bland, it should be unimaginably spicy and potentially harmful or fatal to humans. like green potato and rhubarb leaf salad with a festive garnish of yew berries and deadly nightshade berries, that kind of thing.

It’s-all-just-a-tv-show AU in which they’re all going over the script of the clone wars:

Fives: *reading silently*

Echo: *same*

Fives: what?!? *slams script closed* NO WAY!

Echo: *closing his script and wiping a tear away* aw man, just like that? Just “boom”?

Fives: *pulls echo into a hug* damn man, I’m gonna miss you

Echo: shit, me too. Ah, man, Rex’s gonna be so pissed.

*camera pans to Rex who’s just closed his script on the corner*

Rex: *pointing at the camera* you stop filming this shit right now, I’m going on a strike. *walking away* Oi Cody. CODY! I want you to make a petition online to the writers of this thing RIGHT FUCKING NOW.

Humans are unstoppable...Until they aren’t.

I’m not the most eloquent writer, but I’ve had this idea kicking around for a while and figured I’d put it out into the universe.

A lot of the basis for the “humans are space orcs” stuff is the idea that we’re pretty durable compared to many species, yeah? When it comes to physical trauma, we can bounce back from most things that don’t kill us outright, especially given the benefit of hypothetical space-age technology, and adrenaline is one heck of a drug when it comes to functioning under stress. 

But that doesn’t make us unkillable, and even though we can survive debilitating injuries and not die from shock, it doesn’t mean it’s fun. Dying of shock sucks, but at least it’s probably quick.

So - Imagine a ship, adrift in space, slowly being drawn into a star or something. In order to save the ship, someone has to repair the hyper-quantum-relay-majig on the hull or in the engine or whatever. Bit of a problem though- there’s a ton of deadly, deadly radiation (Wrath of Khan style) or poisonous fumes or, I dunno, electrical current, between the crew and the repair. Like, enough to kill most species instantly, so the crew is just like, ‘welp, guess we’ll die then’. But then.

BUT THEN

They ask the human. Because everyone’s heard the stories - you’re basically unkillable, right? Could you survive long enough in there to fix it? And their human goes real quiet for a second, but still says ‘Yeah, I could fix it’. And the rest of the crew is like, ‘Whaaaaaa, it won’t kill you?’ and the human repeats “I can fix it” (which isn’t an answer, but no one catches that, not yet at least), so they send ‘em in. And the human fixes it, they come back, the ship flies to safety, and the crew is thrilled to survive. If the human is a little quiet, well, they’re entitled after pulling off a miracle. Everyone else is just excited to get to the nearest station’s bar to tell their very own human story, cuz, ‘those crazy humans, amiright?’.

The good mood keeps up until the human is late for their next shift. At first it’s just faint unease, but- but they earned a bit of a lie-in, right? No reason to begrudge them some extra rest, even if it is a little weird for them to oversleep. They’ll be fine. Humans are always fine. 

(Right?)

(…Wrong.)

- What is… help. Help!-

- ake up! You have t-

- been days. You need sleep, you-

- nother transfusion. We could-

- out of sedatives!-

A week later, the crew finally reaches the station. They stumble into the bar, haggard and haunted. And over the next months and years a new rumor about humans starts to make its way through space. A rumor unlike any before.

‘Be careful with your humans’ it whispers. ‘Their strength is not always a blessing. Be sure they don’t do something they can’t come back from, because when a human dies… they die slowly.’

Get some sleep you workaholics

Reblog to shake your blorbo violently.

Reblog if you think asexuality is a legitimate sexuality.

I’m trying to prove something.