I really want a science fiction story where aliens come to invade earth and effortlessly wipe out humanity, only to be fought off by the wildlife.
They were expecting military resistance. They weren’t counting on bears.
Imagine coming to a hostile alien world and being attacked by a horde of creatures that can weigh up to 3 tons, run at 30 km/h (19 mph), and bite with a force of 8,100 newtons (1,800 lbf).
By the time you realise that they can traverse water, it’s too late. The surviving members of your unit manage to make it back by shedding their excess gear and running for their lives; the slower ones were crushed to death within minutes.
You later describe the creature to one of the humans you captured, wanting to know the name of the monstrosity that will haunt your nightmares for cycles to come.
The human smiles as it speaks a single word, slowly and distinctly, in its barbaric tongue.
“Hippopotamus.”
This is giving me the biggest, creepiest grin I might have ever grinned
Imagine being the next crew to go down to earth and thinking “it’s fine, we got this. We have the weapons and equipment necessary to deal with bears and *shudders* hippopotamuses. We’ll be fine.”
And at first you are, you’ve learned how to dodge. You’ve learned where their territories are. You know how to defend yourself.
But then one night you are sleeping in your shelter. You’re in a tree covered temperate part of earth. It seems benign. There are been no sightings of the dreaded “hippos” around. Not even any bears. But there is a slight rustle of the undergrowth. You try and ignore it telling yourself it is just the wind.
Then you hear the rustle again. closer this time.
You peer out into the darkness but see nothing amongst the trees.
The rustle again and now you realise you can smell something. It’s musky and slightly foul. It’s the smell of an omen, a warning. But what of? Where is this smell coming from.
You sit up, but it’s too late. The foul smelling creature is on you. You are hit with 17kg of coarse fur and vicious bites. Long dark claws tear in to you and you are pinned down white the striped creature tries to bite your throat.
It takes some doing but you manage to wrestle free. Blood drips from your wounds and already they itch with the sign of infection. The creature has a bloodied snout, rust rad, mingling with the black and white hairs. It lets out a terrifying growl from the back of its throat and looks to attack again. It’s between you and your knife, so your only choice is to back away.
Eventually the creature gives up and snuffles off in to the undergrowth, down a hole near your shelter you hadn’t noticed before.
When you make it back to your base you once again consult the captive human.
“Badger.” they say, with a solemn nod.
One word: Moose
“Our vehicles are far superior to the local human models, in range, speed, armament, and any other metric you care to name! Nothing could possibly-”
BAMrumblerumblethumpcrash!!!
“That’s called a moose.”
Wolverines.
Also.. dolphins.
The invasion is going slowly. The humans have caught on and are actively destroying information on the planet’s flora and fauna before Intelligence can capture and process it. All that they have are survivors’ accounts. Bears. Hippos. Badgers. Moose. It is becoming obvious this mudball planet is a full-on Death World to the unprepared, and you are so very unprepared.
You lost Jaxurn to a plant. Not even a mobile or carnivorous plant, just one that caused a vicious allergic reaction on contact that killed him in less than a rai’kor. Commander Vura’ko died to an insect bite, a tiny local pest that sucked a tiny bit of her blood and apparently replaced it with a bit of its last meal, which was full of disease. Backwash. She died to bug backwash. And yet you honestly envy them after that… thing you encountered…
When you got back to base the quarantine officer refused to let you inside. They had to roll a containment tank outside to put you in, because you all knew there would be no chance of eliminating the smell if it got into the ship’s air ducts. Smell. You wonder if your nasal slit will ever recover from this stench.
And the smell would. Not. Leave. After incinerating your gear the Q.O. had you use every cleansing agent they could think of, including a few janitorial ones, and still everyone fled the stench if they were downwind of your tank. Desperate to protect everyone’s nasal slits from the smell the quarantine officer interrogated the humans. From them, a glimmer of hope: there was a cure. Somehow the juice of a certain fruit on this mudball was the only thing that could break up the chemicals in the little horror’s spray. Immediately the Q.O. sent a team to recover buckets of the stuff and made you bathe in it. That was hours ago and it didn’t seem to be working, though. All it was doing was turning your blue skin an interesting shade of purple.
Sighing in frustration you wave the med-assist on duty over, who only approaches after checking the wind direction. Annoyed, you flip on the tank`s vox speaker.
“The humans did say it was “grape” juice that removed “skunk” stench, right?“
Every night.
It came for someone almost every night.
Any soldier alone was a viable target for this native monster that moved unseen by any but the security viewers, usually only spotted in hindsight. They were taken as silently as this earth-monster moved. Sometimes they’d find the remains in the morning taken up a tree and hung there, mostly eaten, as if it were a grisly reminder that the monster was still there, waiting unseen, to strike again.
What little they saw of the monster on the vidfeed showed true horror. Yellow eyes that shone with all the light it could gather. It had fangs as long as his grasping digits. Claws half that size formed curved hooks that allowed it to climb up their fortifications with impunity. And in the underbrush, its spots made it almost impossible to see clearly in the undergrowth, if it could be seen at all.
Even the native sentients, the humans, had a healthy respect and fear for it.
The earth natives called the monster a leopard.
It was a constant fear that muddied the senses, and let the monster hunt even more effectively as the soldiers were always on edge. Sleep deprived with fear, it made them even better targets for the monster.
But rumor was that there was worse on this planet. Rumors of a monster like a leopard but larger, and bigger in every imaginable sense. Stripped instead of spotted, which leaped from the underbrush with a sound.
A sound that burst eardrums, paralyzed entire units, and let the monster kill with impunity. While the Leopard wrestled soldiers down and ripped their throats out. This other monster, the Tiger, killed with its pounce alone.
“We’ve been through this,” Group Leader 455 snapped. “The dissection of an Earth life form will help the scientists make weapons to combat the rest of this planet’s hellbeasts. And these are domesticated. Harmless.”
The troops were not-quite-looking at her in the way troops do when they don’t want to be seen to contradict a ranking officer, but can’t quite muster a correct Expression of Enthusiastic Assent. “The name of this species,” she pointed out, “is synonymous with dullness and slowness in the language of the Earth barbarians.” Well, one language out of several thousand—these creatures needed Imperial guidance more than any other world on record—but there was no point in confusing the rank and file.
More not-quite-looking. 455 bubbled a sigh and consulted her scanner. “That one,” she decided. “Alone in the separate pasture. Scans suggest that it’s a male, which means it’s probably weaker. Possibly it’s kept isolated so that the females don’t eat it before mating season. And yes, I know some of you are here on punishment detail, but you’re still soldiers of the Imperium. This squad is perfectly capable of handling a lone, helpless, pathetic male cow.”
I’m enjoying this immensely. Wait until the aliens try Australia for size…
It was a strange creature Tar’van glimpsed at on the vast island known to the humans as ‘Australia’.
“I would warn you not to fuck with us, mate.” Their forced guide, a prisioner, had warned with a chilling grin upon capture. “If you think a moose is bad, wait until you tango with a red back.” To this day Tar’van fears the creature known as the red back, and what horrors it would bring.
The prisioner turned out to be of little help,the stubboness of his people causing them to refuse the danger that the captured human warned of. Tar’van recalls a moment when one of his squad members approached a creature know as a dingo, insistent they had seen these creatures before and they were tame. They barely escaped with 5 of the original 7 members of his squad.
Another moment Tar’van recalls was the brutal mauling they witnessed by the hands of a creature called an ‘Emu’
“Don’t feel too bad,” the prisioner mocked. “We lost a war to the Emu’s as well.”
Now with only 4 members of their squad left, including themself, Tar’van had learned to listen to the prisoner, to be wary of the simplest of creatures. This human was of the sub-species of ‘Zookeeper’ after all.
The ‘Zookeeper’ looks off to the distance, where the creature is.
“It’s a kangaroo, leave it be and you’ll be fine.” Tar’van nods, a human signal of acknowledgement if they are correct. The human smiles a bit.
“That creature cannot possibly harm us.” Tar’van’s squadleader protests. “It is so docile. I will aproach it and bring back it’s head to show this human is a fearmongering liar.”
The human reels back, a look of disgust crosses their face and anger passes through their eyes.
“Fucking do it mate, I dare ya.” The human hisses. The squad leader puffs up their hoinn gland, a sign of pride to their species, and aproached the so called ‘Kangaroo’.
“This will be unpleasant.” A squadmate mutters as they watch their leader raise their fist and bring it down on the creature. The ‘Kangaroo’ looks a little stunned by the impact, before it raises itself upon its strong tail and uses its powerful heind legs to launch their squadleader backwards through the air.
Their squadleader lands upon the ground, unmoving with black blooded oozeing from them. It appears Tar’van is the squads leader now.
“I don’t know what they expected.” the human says, smugness filling their tone. “Kangaroos are fucking shreaded. 8-pack and all.”
Tar’van steps forward to the human, whom inches back in a sign of fear as Tar’van pulls their blade from its holster, and in their first act as leader, frees the human of the bonds around their hands.
“Please,” Tar’van bags. “Get us back safely.”
This is so beautiful.
I love this. Wait till the guys meet rhinos.It got better.
I await honey badger & mountain lion.
And oh, fuck. Camels.
Vultures. Golden eagles of Central Asia.No, wait. CORVIDS.
Also, I wanna know what plant killed Jaxurn.
I bet it was monkey grass. My dogs are convinced they’re murderous, based on the marking habits…
I wonder what elephants think of the invaders?
Oh, shit. It just hit me.
JELLYFISH.
SPIDERS.
The war had gone on for so long, the native flora and fauna of the planet ‘Earth’ doing what the dominant species ‘Humanity’ could not.
Squad after Squad died in the plains of what was once ‘North America’ and few ever made it back to their Home Bases from the mountain and jungle areas of ‘South America’. Some soldiers were sent back to safer and quieter Imperial Colonies in an attempt to combat the PTSD, Mental Breaks and Physical injuries that ran rampant through the Squads.
‘Africa’ became the place of horror stories with ‘Rhinos’, ‘Lions’ and ‘Giraffes’ haunting the minds of many. Squad were given access to a variety of weaponry and equipment before they even left the security of their Home Bases. (The Humans laughed at the excessiveness and were not believed when they told their captors that they had once hunted the creatures their captors now feared.)
Many soldiers refused to go to ‘Asia’, rumours of unspeakable things dissuading them. Stories of giant ‘Tigers’, invisible ‘Snakes’ and ‘Pandas’ were whispered over meals while High Command tried to assure the soldiers that none of these creatures could possibly exist. (High Command gave up when a Human managed to release a juvenile ‘Malayan Tapir’ in one of the Imperial Bases and caused uncontrollable chaos.)
The colony that resided in ‘Europe’ was one of the safer parts of the world but only for those who treated their captive Humans with respect. (The incident with Squadron Leader Jar’vix and the ‘Swan’ assured that.)
‘Australia’ and the surrounding islands that were known by Humanity as ‘Oceania’ were just straight up off limits after the seventeenth Unit of six squads went missing with only bloody looking wildlife to show for it and the Human guides perfectly unharmed. [One male Human just looked at the Squad Leader that found them when they asked where Squad 4665 (one of their best) was. “I told ya mates not to fuck with the platypus and did they listen? No.” The Squad Leader decided not to ask what a ‘Platypus’ was. Learning about ‘Magpies’ was bad enough.]
A few brave (but regarded as extremely foolish even by the Humans) Scientists and Soldiers attempted to navigate the depths of the Oceans of Earth with the latest and best equipment The Empire could provide from Home World. Only one ever made it back. When they described the monsters that the Humans called ‘Anglerfish’, ‘Giant Squid’ and ‘Shrimps’, it was decided by High Command that no more expeditions to the Ocean would be allowed until the surface was moderately under control.
The final straw for The Empire came after an attempt to colonise the region known as ‘Antartica’. The frigid temperatures and the hostile environment was thought to be free of any flora or fauna and therefore, safe. Three Earth days later, Total Retreat was called across Earth (much to the relief of many).
The Humans were released. The Empire would not risk the fact that, while Humanity had been easily defeated, they were still the evolutionary product of the hellish world of Earth and the Dominant Species of Earth.
The Empire Declared Full Quarantine of Earth. No Imperial ship, resource or citizen would ever return to that Solar System, let alone the planet itself. Even for punishment, it was deemed too cruel a fate.
As the last Imperial Ship bearing the last Unit left the atmosphere, two freed female Humans sat on a beach, waving mockingly at the silver metal that was vanishing into the skies. One female turned to her companion and nudged her. It had been the other who had led the Final Squad to Antartica and had seen what had happened in person.
“So tell me. How’d they lose a fight to a small colony of Adélie Penguins and how on Earth did you manage to sneak five of ‘em onto that ship?”
Have y’all not read Animorphs tho??q
And, from the sounds of things, they never did meet sharks or electric eels or army ants or pirahna in the Amazon, or anacondas or … goats. No, haven’t read Animorphs but if it’s like these posts, I clearly should.
The Penguins.
Why, of course.
@ninjaomelet, I look to you for art.
Tag: cackling
for the au thing if you have enough time: au where none of the weasleys are in gryffindor (also i really love your writing, its incredible!)
Thank you! Alright, here we go. This got ridiculous. Beware of minor Drarry in a fairly extreme AU situation.
1) The Weasleys are Gryffindors through and true. The fact that they are not in Gryffindor is the fault of the Sorting Hat, who is either throwing a temper tantrum or saving the world.
Look, it’s just… argh… the Headmaster is fucking useless and the Sorting Hat cannot take any more of this fucking complaining.
The student dormitories and teacher’s quarters are moaning about how they’ve NEVER had so few people and are CONVINCED Hogwarts is shutting down. The kitchen still hasn’t shut up about those poisoning attempts during the war; the library won’t shut up about the OBVIOUSLY inevitable second war coming in about twenty years (also something about time travel, but no one is listening); and the gardens and bathrooms and secret passages and all are still terrified about raids and attacks and murder and another horrible war.
Hogwarts does NOT want another war.
Salazar’s Chamber of Secrets, instead of being any help and calming things of course, is still being a smug and elusive bastard. Helga’s Room of Requirement can’t and won’t be of any help either – they’ve been feeling a little ill lately, although they can’t shine a torch on why exactly. And Godric and Rowena’s rooms are just best left to themselves… they’d probably only make it all worse, actually, risk-taking adventurous arses would probably encourage the castle to rebel or some rot.
But the Headmaster, instead of DOING HIS JOB, is just… fuck knows what the Headmaster is doing, honestly. Raising children to the war and letting Marked students run amok left and right, that’s what he did, and letting everything get out of control so that a war could happen in the first place before that. With this man in charge, the library is probably right and they’ll see another war soon enough.
Something has got to be done, the Sorting Hat knows. But what exactly can it do? All it does is sing a bloody song that no one listens to every year and then sends the little brats off to the house they belong to. Then sits on a shelf for the rest of the year, thinking about how maybe that one ought to have been in Gryffindor after all, or how this one’s bad habits wouldn’t have been encouraged if the Sorting Hat had gone with Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin.
…Oh… Hmm… Now… there’s a thought. It’s something the Sorting Hat would have considered impossible before, but… when the safety of Hogwarts is at stake? Taking advantage of the many loopholes Godric left and using a bit of creative thinking and reasoning? Quite doable, actually.
1982 is a year that does not go as expected. Everyone was rather under the impression that things would finally be going back to normal, what with the war being over for nearly a year and the last few trials and outspoken followers being wrapped up and neatly shoved away or under a rug. FINALLY, everyone thought, a stressless year at Hogwarts.
Heads are full of wondering about the greasy-looking git in Professor Slughorn’s seat, not a one suspecting the devious thoughts running through the tanning of the hat in Professor McGonagall’s hand. Yes, there was a Sorting Song about unity and undiscovered depths and things changing now that the war was over, but that was more or less the same as every year and to be expected.
And then the Sorting Hat sends an Avery off to Gryffindor and an Abbott off to Ravenclaw, despite the families’ respective long and prestigious histories in Slytherin and Hufflepuff.
What the actual fuck is happening, no one says aloud, as a Bulstrode goes off to Hufflepuff and a Longbottom cousin goes into Slytherin.
What the fucking shit, no one shouts like they want to, as a couple Muggleborns go straight into Slytherin and the most purist and illustrious racist families get scattered throughout the other houses among half-bloods and Muggleborns like a particularly gleeful punishment.
Bill Weasley, being eleven years old and not entirely aware of the scandal brewing, goes up to that stool and has the Sorting Hat dropped on his head. Actually dropped, out of Minerva McGonagall’s shaking hand. Something is off, his instincts are certain, but what… fuck knows what.
Mmm… chivalrous, of course, the Sorting Hat mumbles more to itself than Bill. Never met a Weasley who wasn’t… and brave, of course, like you’d expect of a Prewett. Strong sense of justice… yes… and no disinclination to standing up and fighting for it… no matter the toil. More straightforward than cunning, though, and no particular ambitions as of yet… and a passion that needs a focus first…. I supposed it’ll have to be…
“HUFFLEPUFF!” the Sorting Hat shouts, thinking on the side, Shame. Would’ve liked a Slytherin Weasley.
Bill doesn’t think much of it at the time. His main concern is that, unlike his parents, his Weasley uncles, his late Prewett uncles… he’s a Hufflepuff. The first Weasley and Prewett not to go straight into Gryffindor in generations, actually. He hopes they won’t be disappointed in him and that yellow and black will be good colors on him.
Well, it’s a change, but he can roll with it.
Hobbit; Thranduil & author’s choice; lab partners au
Modern au
Thranduil looked at the supplies on the table in disgust. He was a business major. Why was a lab science a general education requirement? He had sat down next to his roommate, who was at least familiar, but he hated the idea of getting his hands dirty and said as much.
“At least it’s chemistry,” Arathorn said with a shrug.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Thranduil demanded caustically.
“If it was bio, we’d have to do dissections,” Arathorn pointed out and they both shuddered. "At least this way if we get bored we can blow something up.“
“What?” Thranduil asked, his voice rising.
“Chemicals,” Arathorn answered as though Thranduil were stupid. "Just mix things until kaboom.“
Thranduil’s head dropped into his hands. Not only was he in a class he already hated, but the likelihood of living through his first semester of college had just halved.
teehehe ok i dunno but this one tickles me a little: Obi-Qui, “killed him? wait, *what*, literally?”
OMG @punsbulletsandpointythings oh no
someone save me from my brain idk wtf this is –
Look I realise that this is perfect in the TINDD AU AND I LOVE IT AND I REALLY WANT IT TO HAPPEN IN TINDD
but for a moment there a completely different AU wormed its way into my head
Allow me to present: Maul and Qui-Gon Both Unfuck the Timeline
After many years ghosting together, passive-aggressively sniping at each other, slowly starting to actually tolerate each other’s presence, and watching shit go down, Maul and Qui-Gon are dropped back into their respective bodies in a Timeline redo, right on Naboo again in the hangar.
Maul is back to kill Palpatine out of pure spite. Qui-Gon is back for Obi-Wan. Maul was definitely not expecting to see Qui-Gon ever again, the smug annoying bastard (he will not admit to actually befriending him, no, not under any circumstances, ever).Bonus cut: The First Timeline, Ghosts on Florrum:
I’m sorry. I have no idea what this is, it just happened.
Maul stopped. Blinked. For just a moment, his blade lowered, ever so slightly.
“Impossible!” he spat. “I killed him!”
Obi-Wan blinked, cocking his head to the slide, and then glanced at Qui-Gon who stood at his shoulder, an amused smiling curling the corners of his lips.
“Killed him? Wait, what?” The younger Master huffed in exaggerated frustration. “Qui-Gon, love, we’ve talked about this. You really must tell me these sorts of things!”
”Who in the fuck is that?” Maul shouted, surprised and extremely offended.
“You, apparently,” Qui-Gon retorted dryly. “Nice legs.”
“It fucking is not,” Maul snarled, but the resemblance was highly disturbing. Kenobi, half-blinded by reawakened grief and horror at Maul’s ‘resurrection’, would never even notice the subtle differences between him and his rather well-manufactured clone. Not that they’d had a chance to get that well acquainted the first time they’d met. Damn Sidious, but his work with clones was entirely too good. Had he trained this one as well? As cruelly as he’d done with Maul?
Qui-Gon’s ghostly hand reached out and squeezed his elbow briefly, which, in spite of everything, turned out to be just the slightest bit reassuring.
“I like your new legs,” Kenobi was saying, “they make you look taller.”
Oh, of course he would, the little shit. He was Qui-Gon’s Padawan through and through. Maul groaned, twice cursing the latter as the Jedi stood chuckling beside him.But IMAGINE: How it begins:
SANER SANER SANER HOLY FUCKING FUCK
WRITE MORE PLEASE YOU NEED TO WRITE MORE OF THIS IDEA ITS AMAZING AND I /NEED/ IT PLEASEEEE!!!
SITHFUCK
THAT WASN’T –
fuck
I also owe you for the University Professors AU, don’t I? XD@obaewankenope if u can help me with this, if it stirs absolutely anything in you, please help.
Oh holy shit I am so down for this jfc.
.
ow ow ow ow ow owwww
but good
very good
do they at some point figure out how to look in on the living?Yes. Omg yes.
They figure out by accident.
Maul makes fire when he and Qui-Gon are ‘fighting’ and they both go “oh right the Force, DUH!” and start making shit.
Maul’s first thing is a lightstaff (I call them saber-staff wtf Kathryn) while Qui-Gon’s is a light saber AND a new cloak.
They make other stuff after having an all out fight because, well it seemed like the thing to do.
Maul actually fucking lost and he doesn’t know HOWEventually Qui-Gon makes a mirror and stares at it, for a long fucking time. Completely silent. Unmoving no matter what Maul says to him.
When Maul joins him Qui-Gon doesn’t even pretend to hide the mirror, just tilts it and shows Maul.
War.
So much war.
Sidious’ plan is working and Maul realises that, oh shit, this was Sidious’ plan all along.
He knew Maul wouldn’t make it out of Naboo alive.
He planned for it.
Fuck. Maul’s gonna kill him.
… @sanerontheinside …………..
AND YOU TRIED TO GET ME NOT TO COAX YOU INTO WRITING IT
YOU’RE WRITING IT NOW, MOST DEFINITELY
I really want a science fiction story where aliens come to invade earth and effortlessly wipe out humanity, only to be fought off by the wildlife.
They were expecting military resistance. They weren’t counting on bears.
Imagine coming to a hostile alien world and being attacked by a horde of creatures that can weigh up to 3 tons, run at 30 km/h (19 mph), and bite with a force of 8,100 newtons (1,800 lbf).
By the time you realise that they can traverse water, it’s too late. The surviving members of your unit manage to make it back by shedding their excess gear and running for their lives; the slower ones were crushed to death within minutes.
You later describe the creature to one of the humans you captured, wanting to know the name of the monstrosity that will haunt your nightmares for cycles to come.
The human smiles as it speaks a single word, slowly and distinctly, in its barbaric tongue.
“Hippopotamus.”
This is giving me the biggest, creepiest grin I might have ever grinned
Imagine being the next crew to go down to earth and thinking “it’s fine, we got this. We have the weapons and equipment necessary to deal with bears and *shudders* hippopotamuses. We’ll be fine.”
And at first you are, you’ve learned how to dodge. You’ve learned where their territories are. You know how to defend yourself.
But then one night you are sleeping in your shelter. You’re in a tree covered temperate part of earth. It seems benign. There are been no sightings of the dreaded “hippos” around. Not even any bears. But there is a slight rustle of the undergrowth. You try and ignore it telling yourself it is just the wind.
Then you hear the rustle again. closer this time.
You peer out into the darkness but see nothing amongst the trees.
The rustle again and now you realise you can smell something. It’s musky and slightly foul. It’s the smell of an omen, a warning. But what of? Where is this smell coming from.
You sit up, but it’s too late. The foul smelling creature is on you. You are hit with 17kg of coarse fur and vicious bites. Long dark claws tear in to you and you are pinned down white the striped creature tries to bite your throat.
It takes some doing but you manage to wrestle free. Blood drips from your wounds and already they itch with the sign of infection. The creature has a bloodied snout, rust rad, mingling with the black and white hairs. It lets out a terrifying growl from the back of its throat and looks to attack again. It’s between you and your knife, so your only choice is to back away.
Eventually the creature gives up and snuffles off in to the undergrowth, down a hole near your shelter you hadn’t noticed before.
When you make it back to your base you once again consult the captive human.
“Badger.” they say, with a solemn nod.
One word: Moose
“Our vehicles are far superior to the local human models, in range, speed, armament, and any other metric you care to name! Nothing could possibly-”
BAMrumblerumblethumpcrash!!!
“That’s called a moose.”
It keeps getting better.
I notice none of these “superior” aliens have discovered camouflaged pit vipers yet.
The reports came in the night-cycle. The medics are screaming about quarantine, strange hissing weapons that have been littered in the trees. Blood stills in veins, nerves misfire, respiration becomes labored and halts. They do not know yet if it is contagious, airborne, or in the water.
There is no record of a human weapon capable of this level of terror and destruction.
They go to the Humans, the primitive beings they’ve come to subjugate into the Collective. Their resource-rich world ripe to be picked from the galactic orchard. The humans share a look. Someone coughs. More reports are brought in of their forces laid low.
Someone makes a whooshing noise, air blown over teeth. It simulates the sound of one of their primitive atmospheric aircraft coming towards the ground.
They laugh. They laugh so hard that tears come to their eyes.
“MOTHERFUCKING SNAKES ON THIS MOTHERFUCKING PLANET!” shrieks one, a youth. He is gasping for breath. “Oh god, quick, someone explain Australia.”
They can’t wait for them to discover spiders.
fic idea
all these posts about hot mess that is Jedi Apprentice Qui Gon Jinn reminded me of a fic idea that was stalking me for some time, and which breed one particularly amusing image:
TCW-era Anakin, having involuntarily time-traveled to past with seemingly no way back, having his mind blown by tiny Initiate Kenobi
even better, the amusing role-reversal of
Yoda: no one to train Obi-Wan, there is. to Corps, he will go.
Anakin: NO YOU CANNOT, HE MUST BE TRAINED
Anakin, with pretty much zero idea about how this mess went down originally, unknowingly tag-teaming Qui-Gon together with Yoda to pester him about taking a Padawan. only to make Qui-Gon more obstinate because imagine how he’d take to this random baby-faced Knight’s meddling when he wouldn’t listen to the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order
(also, Anakin’s attempts at subtle meddling is the most ungraceful thing you can imagine)
i imagine the final confrontation going roughly like
Qui-Gon: I won’t take Kenobi as an apprentice
Anakin: but-but-but he’s go so much potential! he’ll be a great Jedi!
Qui-Gon: well if you think so then why won’t you take him as a Padawan? hah. check and mate.
and he saunters off, leaving gobsmacked Anakin there, who’s all ‘fuck fuck i fucked up’ because as far as he knows, he’s the only different thing about the situation, so logically him being there somehow made Qui-Gon not want to apprentice Obi-Wan
so while he can stand around and continue being “QUI-GON WHAT THE FUCK”, he’s got to fix this somehow asap because Obi-Wan must be trained
and that’s why he turns around (full of indignant ‘WELL QUI-GON MAYBE I WILL’), and immediately asks Obi-Wan to be his Padawan.
hilarity ensues.
There is a very evil part of me that wants to see an Anakin-trained Obi-Wan meet canon Obi-Wan.
It could be hilarious or disastrous, depending on several factors, mainly how old is the alternate Obi-Wan. Right now, I have only vague ideas about what kind of person he’d end up being. They would blow each other’s mind either way.
Anakin’s Master is probably this mysterious, wise abstract figure to alt!Obi-Wan, bc Anakin would definitely go “MY Master used to say…” every time he had to lecture him about something, and he always looked so smug about it. Well, now he knows what was so amusing to Anakin. Sooo clever, having him lecture himself in a roundabout way.
Canon Obi-Wan would probably discover his counterpart has some very… unique ideas about Jedi philosophy, at the very least.
It so weird. And awkward. But mainly weird.
Anakin goes to lie down somewhere. That much concentrated Obi-Wan is hard to handle.
This is amazing and I want it so bad.
i wish this was a thing, it would be epic and awesome
i would also love to see Qui-Gon watching this wet-behind-the-ears-powerhouse-with-no-rudder-Knight flail with a tiny-stubborn-angry-talented-Padawan, then meddling because he just can’t help himself and they’re both what could be termed ‘pathetic life forms’ especially when they’re both drenched and looking forlorn after a supposedly easy mission goes belly up
A little bit down the line and Qui-Gon has realised he’s somehow ended up with not only one pseudo-Padawan but two of them
Yoda is quietly laughing his ass off and not even bothering to hide it
Okay but canon!Obi-Wan getting thrown back as well, meeting them all and he’s just wtf-ing it all over the place because “WHAT THE HELL ANAKIN! I WAS BAD ENOUGH AS A PADAWAN TO QUI-GON! WHAT THE FUCKS!” and Anakin is like “WELL I FUCKED UP AND I HAD TO FIX IT IT’S NOT MY FAULT OKAY!”
Qui-Gon is just “wait what? I did teach you” and Canon!Obi-Wan is like “uh yeah” while alt!Obi-Wan just straight up WRECKS SHIT because omfg Obi-Wan trained by Qui-Gon is sneaky and destructive and reckless but dressed up in sophistication. Obi-Wan trained by Anakin however is sheer, unadulterated chaos.
Chaos I tell you.
Mace legit considers retiring via lightsaber to the chest because “fucking hells NO” while Yoda just lets them run wild because it’s fucking hilarious to him the little bastard
Palpatine get skewered by two Obi-Wan’s, an Anakin and a Qui-Gon for good measure and wtf-ing it into an explosion of goop and evil
Anakin who sneakily freed himself and his mom in this alt!verse with alt!Obi-Wan actually fucking giving him advice and tips and “I would not recommend you do that, killing him won’t free your- uh- them”
Gods the galaxy would never be the same.
no, and neither would the Council – they’d be just about used to the shenanigans caused by this hell team of Knight Skywalker and Padawan Kenobe, they’ve realised that these two are basically loose canon that you point in the general direction of the problem and pray (and probably take note of where Jinn is standing, because he’s at the point he always knows where to get the best seat to supervise/pass remarks/point-and-laugh without getting caught in the crossfire)
Orig!Obi rocks up, they (ok, mainly Mace) think, ok, fine, we can deal with another blunt instrument…
But no, they have a civilised, courtly, polite gentleman Knight on their hands, he’s at ease and respectful at Council meetings and in teaching classes, he’s modest and calm, he even manages to temper the excesses that Jinn and Skywalker specialise in. This baffles them but they don’t look a gift eopie in the mouth.
On review, Mace regrets that choice.
This older Kenobi manages to herd cats, and gets not only Skywalker and mini!Kenobi to go where he wants them to, but also Jinn, and it is like watching a ambulatory avalanche of destruction. The resulting paperwork is horrific, and taller than Yoda, who claims that he can’t read because he’s hurt his stomach muscles laughing so much. The Senate keeps trying to pin the Intergalactic-Brat-Pack down, but they get dazzled by the Negotiator who somehow manages to walk away without any penalty for the destruction they can’t quite pin on him, but also has the Trade Federation paying for it. Also, that Senator from Naboo disappeared in suspicious circumstances, and nobody can prove anything… Generals don’t only plot large battles, they also need to know how to cut an enemy off at the source.
Alt!Obi is taking notes, he kinda likes the idea of being a sophisticated space pirate that pretends to be a space monk, and that’s what Orig!Obi kinda looks like
Shmi rolls her eyes at her boys and insists on regular visits (yes, Ani, especially if she’s on Tattooine). Older Qui-Gon is quite taken by this self possessed and elegant Master who has managed to beat every record of upending the Council that Jinn was proud of, and look self effacing while he does it, and he’d like to see more. However, since Skywalker and Orig!Obi talked about the original timeline, Skywalker is trying to burn a hole in Jinn’s head in retaliation for sins that haven’t happened in this ‘verse, and he’s been a pretty amazing cockblock. Orig!Obi has yet to notice
Anakin is sure he’s lost control of this mess, but still can’t pinpoint where. he will take a nap
I’m fucking screaming holy shitting hells *smushes face in pillow and screams*
.
“What did you do?”
Mace’s voice echoes the sheer horror the entire Council is exuding – except Yoda, there’s just mirth there – as they stare at Obi-Wan and he can’t help but raise an eyebrow, face perfectly serene.
“As I was instructed,” Obi-Wan replies, voice level and so very polite it instantly has half the Council on edge. They’ve learned not to be idle, or busy being horrified, when the level of politeness from Master Kenobi ramps up.
They’ll be lucky to leave the room sane even with their increased wariness.
Qui-Gon stands by his side, safely exempt from the horrified questioning from the Council. Anakin is stood behind him and padawan Obi-Wan is beside him, staring at the older version of him, eyes drinking in everything.
The Council is more terrified of that sharp-eyed attentiveness in padawan Kenobi’s gaze than they are the master staring at them calmly.
They can barely handle this devastating blend of Jinn’s maverick tendencies, Kenobi’s born tenacity and this ruthless negotiating ability. Mace would consider Kenobi the best Jedi they’ve ever had were it not for the fact that he wants to throw himself from the tower in sheer dumb-struck frustration.
“You were instructed to obtain the intelligence for the Senate on the matter of the Trade Federation blockade.” Mace near bites out, staring hard at Obi-Wan who just – gods be damned – raises that eyebrow a smidge higher. “You were not instructed to dismantle the Federation’s primary droid control ship and detain two members of the senate!”
“The intelligence was obtained and relayed back to the Temple by Anakin,” Obi-Wan says casually, as though he were commenting on the weather. “We cannot be held accountable for the actions of the Trade Federation upon discovery of Jedi aboard the control ship. I believe the phrase ‘they started it’ is an accurate summary of our necessarily, defensive actions.”
Anakin shifts on the spot, fighting a grin. His master is such a fucking shit. His padawan looks at him, eyebrow raised in perfect mimicry of his elder self and- fucking hells, did Obi-Wan perfect that at birth?
“Defensive?” Master Yoda near fucking cackles, eyes bright with glee. Obi-Wan’s gaze switches to the small master. So does everyone else’s. “Necessary it was to destroy a whole ship mmm?”
Obi-Wan’s eyes are sharp with something that has always made Anakin incredibly cautious. The last time he saw that gleam in his master’s gaze he spent weeks on a ground campaign while Obi-Wan did some of the most reckless shit in their entire master-padawanship.
Qui-Gon’s amusement, carefully obscured to all but the four of them in the centre of the room, tells Anakin that the older master has quickly come to recognise the same… danger associated with that look.
“Well it certainly removed the blockade. Detaining Nute Gunray prevented the Trade Federation from calling for backup. And there was no loss of life; that’s always nice,” Obi-Wan responds.
Anakin swears he can hear the vessels in Mace’s head popping.
He’s kinda proud of the level of incredulity and frustration his master produces. And so politely as well.
The way the eyes of the Obi-Wan by his side are gleaming however gives Anakin pause. Shit.
Qui-Gon dealt with Obi-Wan the first time when he developed this unique skill. And now Anakin was going to be dealing with two of his master: one of whom was infinitely more like Anakin than was strictly safe.
Obi-Wan as a Jedi Master was devastating.
But Anakin clearly recalled how downright terrifying it had been watching his padawan with his master, working together: one knowing everything about the other, even though there were differences.
Master Obi-Wan working with himself as a padawan was literally an apocalypse for their opposition.
With Anakin and Qui-Gon added into the mix… well, the ‘four horsemen of the apocalypse’ from that quaint storybook his padawan had picked up on a mission came to mind.
Anakin kinda felt sorry of the Council as he watched Obi-Wan play them like instruments, to the point where he was honestly considering stepping in just so Mace wouldn’t actually throw himself from the tower.
Yoda kicked them out before he could however, declaring they needed to go to the healer’s and get checked out before retiring to their quarters.
“Cause more property damage you will not hmm?” Yoda says, giving Obi-Wan a look that Obi-Wan returned.
“Not unless it’s necessary Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan says, bowing. The Council relaxes but Obi-Wan’s not done yet “There’s so much paperwork to fill out for each individual act, it’s less effort to remove the property all together.”
Anakin grins, Jedi rules be damned.
look at this gem, look at this beauty, while I try to disentangle my hand from inside my mouth where it was keeping the laughs in to not scare the new roomie in the middle of the night
When Dori asks Nori how the first day or primary school was he did not expect for his little sibling to have found an arch enemy, nor that Nori would be happy about that.
Nori’s first day of school. Dori knew his little brother was as excited as he had been. He was glad that Nori had the afternoon kindergarten so their parents had decided he could walk home with Dori. It was a great responsibility. And it meant he got to hear all about Nori’s day first.
He went down to the kindergarten wing, a ten year old among parents, and Nori flew into his arms. They held hands as they walked home, Nori swinging their arms as high as he could reach and laughing as he skipped to try and go higher. Dori laughed as well, pulling all the way up and dangling Nori’s feet off the ground.
“How did you like it?” he asked.
“It was great!” Nori crowed in response. "We got to color and we played musical chairs and we got a snack and did show and tell and got to play on our own playground with no bigger kids to steal the swings!“ His smile slipped. "Not much bigger kids.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Dwalin Durin. He’s the biggest kid in class. He said I couldn’t have a swing the whole time ‘cause other kids wanted them too.”
“He’s right, Nori,” Dori pointed out. "You have to share.“
“But I never get the swings at home! So I should get them more at school! I told him and he pushed me off the swing.”
“He did what!”
“So I kicked him in the face. And then he said he was gonna get me and he’d never let me get away with anything.”
Dori fumed. "He has a brother or a cousin in my class. I’ll talk to him and–“
"No, Dori!” Nori’s eyes were huge. "He’s my nemesis! You have to let me take care of him.“
"Nori, if he’s bullying you…”
Nori shook his head. "I need a nemesis if I want to be a super villain when I grow up. Every super villain has one.“
Dori wasn’t sure what to do with his little brother….
okay times are Trying at the moment and I could use a stress detox, so who wants to talk about Padmé and Anakin unexpectedly switching bodies because the Force? you? me? everyone? AWESOME, let’s go:
Here, have a random crack fic
So my writing group does this exercise where we play reverse Cards Against Humanity: you have a hand of black cards and you win the white cards. We go until everyone has three white cards, and then you have to write a story using those three cards.
My cards were:
three consecutive seconds
of happiness, a piñata full of scorpions, and power.Of course when I hear “power” I can only think of one person…
Power, Emperor Palpatine had discovered, wasn’t nearly as
fun when you weren’t actively taking it from someone.Oh, you could always lord it over your minions, of course.
And he did. Frequently. But it just wasn’t the same without someone to gloat at. Truly, victory was a bittersweet
morsel to swallow.He’d been truly happy once, the Emperor thought, though the
feeling was difficult to remember now. But there’d been that one brief,
glorious moment – perhaps only a few seconds really – when his plans had come
to perfect fruition and the galaxy had fallen at his feet.But those sweet, golden seconds were gone, fled beyond
recall. Now, Palpatine ruled the known universe all but uncontested.And he was bored.
He’d already filled his daily schedule of torturing the
underlings. He’d even electrocuted Vader twice, for old times’ sake really, but
it just wasn’t the same.Palpatine slumped back in his throne with a sigh. He
couldn’t even blow up a planet to release some steam. The Death Star project,
twenty years in the making, was behind schedule again. Something about a screw
shortage, of all ridiculous things.He was just beginning to seriously consider ordering the
firebombing of a Naboo orphanage, despite how unsatisfying that had proved last
weekend, when one of his nameless and faceless guards approached the throne,
trembling, and prostrated himself on the floor at the Emperor’s feet. In his
hands, he was holding some dreadful concoction of papier-mâché, glitter, and
string.“What is the meaning of this?” the supreme ruler of the
galaxy snapped.“For-forgive me, Your Highness,” the guard gabbled. “It’s –
it’s a gift, Your Highness. From Representative Binks, Your Highness. To – to
celebrate the anniversary of your ascension as Emperor, Your Highness.”Palpatine was already bored. He shot a few rounds of
lightning at the hapless guard, though without much hope. Soon enough the man
was writhing on the floor, and the Emperor sank back into his throne with a
despairing sigh. Nope, still bored.As the man picked himself up to leave, his clothing still
smoking faintly, Palpatine waved a languid hand and said, “Hang it from that
rafter on your way out.”Watching the guard struggle and groan as he moved his aching
body to position the ladder was only mildly amusing, but finally it was done
and the fool left, bowing pitifully. Palpatine waited until the door swished
closed behind him before going to inspect the piñata.It was in the shape of a particularly squashed looking Opee
Sea Killer. The teeth were lovingly sculpted from what appeared to be toilet
paper tubes.Representative Binks. Representative Binks. Now why did that
name sound familiar?Oh yes. That ridiculous Gungan. Well, it couldn’t hurt. It
would probably be dreadfully boring, but everything was, so really, why not?With another enormous sigh, Palpatine raised one hand
listlessly and shot a round of lightning at the piñata.It burst. A hoard of furious scorpions poured out. Several
of them poured out directly onto the Emperor’s face.*
“Should we go in there?” Gerald hissed, straightening his
red mask. The thing was damned difficult to see out of.“Are you kidding?” Herbert whispered back. “I’m not going in
there while His Highness is…interrogating someone. I’m staying right here and
guarding this door, exactly as ordered.”A brief silence followed, liberally interspersed with
screams.“So,” said Gerald. “Heard about the new XP-38?”
There's a Mirror on the Wall 