war on the unborn

That time when Princess Leia used the Force on her unborn son
Did Leia ever try to become a Jedi after 'Return of the Jedi?' We have the beginnings of an answer in 'Aftermath: Life Debt.'
By Chris Taylor

This was brought to my attention by @mrsariayoureakiller and here, we see Leia feeling the presence of her unborn child.

The room is white and mostly empty. The walls are padded. The windows are many, and the sunlight streaming in is bold and bright.

The only things in this room are Leia and a potted plant.

The plant is a sapling of the sanctuary trees of Endor, though some call it a serpent’s puzzle, named so after the way the dark branches weave together in a kind of organic knotwork.

She grew it from a seed—a small knobby acorn given to her by the little Ewok known as Wicket. She grew the plant in a pot of Chandrilan soil, and to her shock and delight, it took.

It has become a focus of her meditations, as suggested by Luke. She decided, after storming out of the meeting room, that it was best to come here. Best for her to focus on something that wasn’t the state of the galaxy, or the nascent New Republic, or that nagging feeling in the deep of her middle that Mon Mothma has betrayed her in some small but significant way.

She sits with it in the middle of the room, hands gently resting on her pregnant belly.

She clears her mind.

And then she tries to feel the tree.

She does this at least once a day.

Leia has never felt the tree.

Not for lack of trying! She sits here. She empties herself of breath, and then she tries to free herself of thought. Just like Luke taught her to. That part works fine most of the time. But he said it was possible to feel the lifeforce of things with the Force.

She swore to him that she just doesn’t have it. It being that mystical, intangible power that her brother possesses and (this thought comes with a set of chills grappling up her spine) that her father—her birth father—possessed, too.

Luke continues to swear that, with time, she will come to feel the Force just as he does. He explained that it was how she felt his pain back during Cloud City—him hanging there, wearied and beaten and about to fall into the roiling clouds below. He said he’d teach her.

And he did teach her. Some things, at least.

Then? He left.

Just like Han left.

Luke …

She finds her mind wandering to him now. Her thoughts reach for her wayward brother like a living thing, like branches seeking the sun. I need you here. I need your help. Luke sometimes had a farm boy’s naïveté, yes, but right now she feels she could use a little of that.

Her mind is a tangle of thoughts. The complexities of politics, the love of (and anger over) Han, the loss of Luke, and above all else the ever-persistent worry about the life she carries —

Her skin tingles. Her mind feels suddenly unmoored from the rest of her. Leia feels dizzy enough to fall over.


Oh, my!

There! There it is. Washing over her and through her — an awareness unlike any she’s ever felt before. A pulsing glow, flickering and strong.

It’s not the plant. It’s not Luke. It’s not even Han.

It’s her child.

This isn’t just a mother’s recognition of the life inside—that, she already knows. She’s already well aware of the bump and tumble of that little person she carries. (And she already knows about the heartburn, and the pre-breakfast nausea, and the post-breakfast nausea, and the post-post-breakfast hunger …)

This goes beyond all that. This is something separate from her. It isn’t a physical feeling. It is all around her. It suffuses her like the perfume from a jungle of flowers. As such, she is suddenly aware of her child’s mind and spirit: She senses pluck and wit and steel blood and a keen mind and by the blood of Alderaan is this one going to be a fighter!



It’s a boy.

It’s a boy.

Her hands fly in front of her mouth as she both laughs and cries at the same time. This, she thinks, is the light side that Luke always goes on about—the promise of light, the promise of a new life …

And then, the black edging of the dark side encircles her bliss like a noose. Because what rides swift on the heels of hope but fear — a fear that stretches out far and wide like a growing shadow. Fear of having a child in an unstable galaxy. Fear of whether or not Han is alive — or Luke, too. Will the child grow up with a father? An uncle? A mentor? What is her legacy and what will her boy’s legacy be?

Her breath catches in her chest. She has to force herself to breathe.

Clear your mind. Clear it all. Focus, Leia. Focus.

Are those her thoughts?

Or are they Luke’s?

Whoa. Okay, I’m just a tiny bit scared, mostly coz we might see Snoke in the fringes of baby Ben’s life….

Part of what makes Fury Road so compelling compared to the other [Mad Max films] is the thing that’s being fought over is not Stuff, like gas and cars, but personhood. For the first half-hour, not only is Max stripped of all of his Stuff, but also of all agency, strapped to the front of a car as a blood-bank… But the real brilliance of Fury Road is the way it thematically examines its own predecessors, especially in regards to characters being motivated by Stuff. In Fury Road, the “Stuff” is people. Human objectification is a huge theme- the Wives are Joe’s property; the War Boys are Joe’s disposable war-fodder; their unborn children are Joe’s property; and Max himself, basically an organ and blood donor, is also property. So while Fury Road is awesome and fun as hell to watch, it’s also a fascinating re-examination on the themes of the previous three. Max was never an ideal, more of a fall-from-grace sort than an honest-to-God anti-hero, but the first three films are more thematically complex than idealizing Max’s either running away or ‘violence is the solution to everything’ approach to masculinity. I don’t think it’s any coincidence that Nux bears a strong narrative resemblance to  the young, brainwashed Johnny who Max killed in cold blood in the first movie. Modern Max has zero interest in vengeance or even comeuppance, just survival, and as a result we have the highest stakes ever seen in a Mad Max movie.
—  Lindsay Ellis, Mad Max Fury Road- Mini Canon
NATO expansionists have won the day, but they have scheduled a series of clashes that will mean a humiliating back-down by either Russia or the United States–or war. We have committed American children yet unborn to fight Russians yet unborn over land no president has ever considered vital. This hubristic attempt to impose a U.S. protectorate over Europe will one day be challenged. That day we will awaken to find that a new generation is not willing to send its sons to fight in places they have never heard of, simply because this generation pledged they would go. NATO expansion is a rash and provocative act, unrelated to our true security interests and rooted in an ignorance of American history and traditions.
—  Patrick J. Buchanan, A Republic, Not an Empire, pp.23-24 (1999)

“The Spinner’s Wife” - Digital Oil Painting

An AU where Belle is Rumple’s wife from the beginning. They live a simple life, but they love each other and are happy. On the night Rumple tells Belle he’s been drafted into the army, a beggar comes to their door, with a story in exchange for shelter, about how the Duke controls the Dark One. Rumple takes on the curse of the dagger in order to end the war and stay with his wife and his unborn child.

This is NOT a Photoshop filter, every stroke is painted by me.

Her eyes light up when she hears the wooden door to their small hut open and she turns to see her husband enter. In her happiness, she doesn’t see the worry in his expression.

“Rumple, I have news!” she says, coming to him.

“So have I,” he says, grimly. He holds up a small scroll of paper. “I’ve been conscripted into the Duke’s army. He’s sending me to the front lines.”

Her eyes widen in understanding, her face draining of color. “No…” she whispers, visions of bloodthirsty ogres flashing through her mind. “Not you, not now… I’m… We’re…” She places her hands protectively over her abdomen and this time, her husband’s eyes widen.

“You’re not–”

She nods, miserably. The news she’d been burning to tell him all day now turned to ash on her tongue. “I saw the wise woman today. She thinks I’m a few weeks along. We’re going to have a child, Rum.” Her cerulean eyes brimmed with tears. “And now… you might never get to see…” Her throat closed, preventing her from saying more.

He moves to take her into his arms, though he knows he has little comfort to offer, but a knock on the door interrupts their sad exchange. He squeezes her arm wordlessly and she nods, indicating that he should see who it was.

A stooped, hooded traveler stands shivering in the dimming light of day when Rumple answers the knock. Then he sees the small wooden bowl in his hand.

“Alms for the poor?” the man asks in a wheezing, broken voice. Not a traveler then, but a beggar.

“Of course,” Rumple says, opening the door wider. He reaches into his rough woolen trouser pocket and retrieves a few coins, which he places in the man’s bowl. “But come in and join us for the night, my friend. It is getting dark and our fire will warm you. We don’t have much food, but what we have, you are welcome to share.”

“You’re too kind. Perhaps you would allow me to repay you with a story?”

Belle looks up from tending the fire. “A story?”

“My wife loves a good story, sir,” says Rumple, leading their guest to the table.

“Then listen well,” says the old man. “For it may aid you in some way…”

Imagine T’Challa, overwhelmed at the sudden influx of complications and tensions that come with being a leader, visiting Bucky’s cryo tank just to vent.

Like, he’ll bounce ideas off Bucky and of course Bucky will respond all “…” bc, you know, he’s currently a Bucksicle, and T’Challa will just mutter, “No, you’re right, that would never work, but what if…” and he just finds that it’s a surprisingly good strategy for getting his personal hang-ups off his chest and out of the way, and it enables him to be a 100% better leader.

Just…Bucky keeping T’Challa company. T’Challa keeping Bucky company. T’Challa talking about his problems to the cryo tank.

S/C Fic

So, this started in one direction, then took a left turn up a winding road and off a freakin’ cliff. There is smut, because, well that’s what I do. But it is something different than just the pure lust I typically go for. I have no title for this one. It just happened to take over.

Sam stroked the side of his chin, trying to not let anything show on his face.

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