#pregnant conversations

[harrywavycurly]

For Eddie x Pregnant Reader how did he tell Wayne? How does he feel about it??

Hiiii babes!! Okay so idk why this like hit me in the feels because Wayne content just hits different sooooo enjoy these conversations between Eddie and Wayne about the whole relationship/pregnancy situation💖

-find all things Eddie x Pregnant!Reader here✨

-the conversation between you, Wayne and Eddie is marked with a 🖤 andddd we have a name for this baby boy!!😭

*Wayne knows Eddie is seeing you…he just doesn’t know the whole story*

“Hey uhm do you…have a minute?” “Depends…what’s wrong?” “I mean nothing is wrong…I just uh need to tell you something…” “well shit I’m already not liking where this is going.” “You know how I’ve been seeing someone right?…met her at the record store a few weeks ago?” “Yeah yeah the one you’ve been blabbering on about none stop…what about her?” “She’s uh…well…she is-” “Jesus fucking Christ son you got her pregnant already?” “I mean she is pregnant but uhm…I didn’t…I didn’t do it…” “what?..what do you mean you didn’t do it?…she cheatin on you?” “What? No no she was already uhm…pregnant when I met her…” “oh…who’s the father?” “Well that’s the thing…I uh…I’m gonna be the…father…” “you’re gonna be the father?…you can’t even do your own laundry but you’re gonna be someone’s dad?” “Yeah…I don’t want her dealing with it alone and…the dad doesn’t want anything to do with her so…so I told her I’d step in if she wanted me to…” “and she said she wants you to?” “Yeah..yeah she did…” “so..I’m gonna be a grandpa is what you’re saying?” “Exactly…yeah you’re gonna be a grandpa old man.” “Jesus…I need a drink.”

“So…how far along is she?” “Uh about twelve weeks or so.” “And you’re sure you’re okay with this? You just met her…” “I’m sure…either way even if we breakup I told her I’d be involved in the baby’s life because I mean…I may not be the best role model but I’m better than nothing…” “That’s real mature of you…so what’s she want it to be?” “I think she wants a boy but I’m not sure…I’d like a girl…they seem cool.” “They seem cool? It’s a baby Eddie not a new car…good lord.”

“It’s a boy.” “What’s a boy? That stray cat outside?” “Stray cat? What? No..I’m uh…we are having a boy…” “who’s we? You got a mouse in your pocket? You mean she’s having a boy..you won’t be doing much besides trying not to pass out.” “Sorry…she’s having a boy…” “how you feel about that?” “Honestly I’m terrified…I don’t want to be like him…” “hey now…you’re not him okay? You’re nothing like him…you’re gonna be a good dad to that little boy.” “How do you know?” “I just do…don’t question me son.”

🖤 “so..you really picked Eddie here to do all this with huh? It’s not too late to change your mind.” “I mean…he kinda wouldn’t take no for an answer so..here we are.” “Gee thanks baby…both of you are mean.” “Oh get over yourself son…now have you thought about names?” “Uhm well…I have yeah…” “yeah? You have? Been keeping them from me sweetheart?” “No…I just wasn’t sure when to bring it up…” “well now I’m dying to hear it…what’s the name darlin?” “I think being named after his dad would be nice…so…I was thinking about James…James Munson?” “You…you wanna name him after…me?” “Well damn…that..that’s a good name…I like it…uhm excuse me for a second.” “You cryin old man?” “Oh and what you’re eyes naturally water like that? Leave me alone.” “Sorry I wasn’t trying to make you two cry…” “they are happy tears baby…you sure you wanna name him after me? You don’t have to do that…” “I know I don’t…but I want to.” “Well I can’t wait to meet my grandson…James.” “He can’t wait to meet you either.”

#eddie series #eddie fluff #eddie munson x pregnant!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie x mom!reader #dad!eddie munson #Eddie Munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie and wayne munson #wayne munson #pregnant conversations #my little dungeon master baby #pregnant convos

[uselessgaywhovian]

ngl there were a few moments in this season where i thought the twist was gonna be the next Bridgerton girl in line was gay, but then it was just she wants a small family with a guy who’s quiet.

#bridgerton #the bit where all the debutantes were talking about their dream husbands #and Francesca was just kinda spaced out #and fumbled for a simple answer #or the conversation with Penelope at the first hall #felt like something beyond being the quiet one was being said #but alas #Penelope and Colin getting into it in the carriage was a surprise #it’s gonna be awkward if they get too carried away some time #and she ends up pregnant before her married sisters #but that might be more drama than i can hope for in just 4 more episodes

[h0neyfreak]

the oddly popular take that “we’re trying for a baby” = “basically telling everyone you’re cumming in someone and is therefore TMI of the highest order” is weird for so many reasons but first and foremost has always been that yeah, adult friends do actually share information about their sex lives and birth control methods and fertility struggles. it’s actually super common idk what to tell you. most people do not actually sit there and visualize their friends having sex in graphic detail for extended periods of time upon learning this information

#this is a very niche complaint from like 5 years ago but it’s bugged me the whole time #you obviously do not have to participate in these conversations if you don’t want to #and not all friend groups share this information but a decent number of adults do #and it’s completely normal and just part of life. people fuck and they get pregnant on purpose #mine #text post #void screams

[rastro-writes]

Funny idea my brain had

Wildlight visiting Uli and Rusl in Ordon, Rusl and Twilight are out, Wild and Uli are cooking.

Wild: your children are so energetic and happy here.

Uli: you and Link might have your own little ones running around at some point

Wild: Twilight’s pregnant!!?

Uli: …

Wild: wait-

Uli: I meant adopting.

Wild: I-…

Uli: Also, I know too much now.

Uli: Goddesses help these boys they’re as bad as each other.

#wildlight #Rusl and Twilight had a similarl conversation #twilight is in fact not pregnant #Rusl doesn’t know what to do about his idiot son #Rusl and Uli lament their idiot boys #but they still love them

[prettyboyscollection]

(draft from my main, disclaimer for anyone who sees this: this blog is primarily a porn blog and stupid debating will be ignored or laughed at, you can try it but i dont care)

reading stuff about trans rights (especially in the south) on places like twitter is SO fucking frustrating because SO many people uncritically say "people never judge trans men for not meeting/meeting male stereotypes!!" "conservatives/republicans/gender criticals/etc don't care about trans men, they only hate trans women!" "no one cares if a trans man wants to play sports with cis men!" "trans men dont have their presentation criticized!" etc because that's not fucking true! its not!

trans men have all of that and more thrown at them, we're the forefront of a lot of anti-trans talking points (IRREVERSIBLE DAMAGE: THE TRANSGENDER CRAZE SEDUCING OUR DAUGHTERS. do you remember this? do you realize this is still one of their huge sources?) and our bodies are seen as mutilated and disgusting, often even more than trans women's, because they see us as women, as ruined women, women they dont see as sexually appealing, potential mothers/incubators, and they take it out on us especially violently. i didnt go through DIY conversion therapy from two conservative transphobes (that included straight up illegal shit) in texas/oklahoma to see people online uncritically parroting the idea that trans men/trans masculinity arent just as fucking hated by people like that. fucks sake.

#debated for a while about posting this because its angry and controversial to admit that trans men are in fact affected by transphobia #transphobia // #misogyny // #transandrophobia #conversion therapy // #anti transmasculinity #transmisandry #any more words that we use for this idk #its taken me a long time to admit that what my parents (particularly my mom) were doing to me was in fact conversion therapy #but now that ive accepted it its just made me angrier about people saying that trans men dont experience unique forms of oppression #im sorry but i dont think that people other than trans men have to deal with their mothers talking about how theyll accept being a woman #when they get pregnant and cant escape the constant reminder of their biology #this is inherently a transandrophobic statement and experience #sorry if it breaks your fragile sense of who can be a victim of oppression #z.txt #vent post

[othersidedisc]

anyway reminder to be normal about people, esp feminine people, abt hair loss. thanks!

#not to say we shouldn't have a conversation about how masculine people are treated when they loose hair which is so normal for most of them #but this one specifically is bc people were being weird about a pregnant woman who had some. and they're acting like it's the end of the #world

[daughterofyourdarklord]

What about voldedad? Where does he fall in the trio-verse???????

Oy vey. There can never be too many HCs I suppose, so here I am again going overboard:

From the moment they find out about her pregnancy Lord Voldemort despises it. Bellatrix seems so certain, so eager.. He’s unable to understand why. A baby right now? When he is so close to finally claiming his reign? He bars her from combat in the hopes that her bloodlust will outweigh this silly sentiment. It does not. He never wanted an heir, never needed one - he is very vocal about this. Yet, he allows her this child because, in the end, what choice does he have? 

The Dark Lord is very much intentionally avoiding Bellatrix when there is an attack on one of the safe houses. He is incensed, unsure how The Order was able to locate another so quickly- these vigilanties would have to be dealt with. His rage turns cold once he is informed that Bella was there. Lord Voldemort apparates without a second thought, following the feel of her magic. He orders everyone out of the room and soon she is pulled tight against him, his hands hard in her hair before drifting lower. Finally, he’s forced to acknowledge that he was worried about them both.

It’s going to be a girl. He really shouldn’t be surprised, Bellatrix has been claiming as much since the early weeks of her pregnancy - apparently she dreams about her. He’s oddly relieved, suddenly paying a bit more attention to Bella’s musings about long dark curls and deep amber eyes. “Does she tell you her name?” He asks her - it’s the first times he’s ever directly referred to their baby out loud. She smiles. 

‘Delphini’ he hisses at the growing swell of Bella’s stomach in parseltongue, too curious not to. Bella’s hand lingers at the nape of his neck watching him intently. He hisses again and at once all the dim candles lining their rooms alight. It is so sudden that both of them turn to one another refusing to believe that she did that.

The birth is much harder than the pregnancy. Bellatrix is screaming for hours and for once he feels powerless. He wants to rage at her, threaten her, order her to survive this. She pulls through, of course, Bella is not Merope. He does not enjoy babies, they remind him far too much of the Orphanage. However, he does feel oddly privileged when Delphini’s cries die in her throat the minute she is placed in his arms.

Father is not a concept he is well acquainted with but ‘dada’ and ‘papa’ he is slowly getting used to. 

Her magic is very much intentional. Bella tells him this is not normal, that most children have no control over their magic in the first few years of life. Delphini is not most children. She is His - a Gaunt and a Black - the blood of Salazar and of the stars flow through her veins. He has no doubt she’ll be exceptional and a part of him is almost proud. 

He doesn’t entirely hate it - when the little witch sleeps between them at night. Her hands are so small still that she holds just one of his fingers in her mighty grip. He allows her this.

The Ministry orders a search of Lestrange Estates. They were not warned, and only get word partway through the strategy meeting. He and Bellatrix are off in an instant, no words needed between them. They burst into the nursery and he sees her propped up in some strange wizard's hold. Rage rips through him so viciously he doesn’t even think. The wizard’s body hits the floor and Bellatrix is already sweeping their little girl back into safe arms. The other two witches also sent by the Auror Department are imperiused, ushered back to the atrium to report their minimal findings. The dead wizard will be a problem, one that he’ll drop off the ramparts of White Tower later. ‘We need to be more careful.' He thinks, in Bellatrix's arms the little witch is shaking. 

#voldedad is a NEW ONE #im strangely okay with it #sorry I am also slightly starting to contradict myself in these #listen im still working things out too okay #first one is putting it so lightly #let's just say I don't think there conversations were so forgiving in the beginning #dademort was certainly not dadding at that point #was going to through something in here about the potters and prophecy and all that but liike #look how long this is already #no #delphini #delphi #lord voldemort #dademort #VOLDEDAD #bellatrix lestrange #pregnant bellatrix #you get it

[tyrannosaurus-trainwreck]

Me when I'm talking to someone I speak with at least once a week and know reasonably well: I don't think my conversational skills have suffered since the pandemic. I mean, I get out, I do things, I talk to people! I routinely have to justify shit to superiors and explain stuff to new hires, I've been taking on a lot of new responsibilities and am frequently having conversations about stuff well outside my wheelhouse and everyone seems to understand me okay?

Me when I'm talking to someone I haven't seen in three months: Tell me, Will--

#out here having some c. auguste dupin-ass conversations i tell you what #see an absolute unit of a squirrel #'fascinating how squirrel mothers leave the natal den to their juveniles and build a new one when it's time to have another litter' #did i remember to point out the heavily pregnant squirrel before saying that? #no

[harrywavycurly]

Hi :) sorry if this has been asked previously but I’m just wondering how Eddie and pregnant reader are doing? Has she had the baby or is she nearly due? 🥰

Hiii babes!! Eddie and pregnant reader are good!! She hasn’t had the baby yet but it’s almost time so enjoy these conversations between her and Eddie as they prepare for their son to get here🥹💖

-find all things Eddie and Pregnant Reader here✨

*Eddie is ready to meet his son but he’s also scared shitless*

“God is he really going to be this tiny when he’s born?” “Probably…look how cute he’s gonna look in these little overalls.” “Oh no put the overalls down baby before you start crying.” “I can’t help it he’s just gonna be so cute in all these little outfits.” “Which outfit did you want me to put into the hospital bag?” “The black onesie that says rock and roll all over it and those little black pants.” “Okay…got it…oh did we need to pack uh…diapers and all that stuff?” “Yes Eddie…we need diapers and all that stuff.” “Got it I’ll go grab some then.”

“I just want to make sure it’s…safe that’s all sweetheart.” “Eddie you’ve checked the car seat five times already…it’s safe.” “One more time won’t hurt…oh we should check the crib too make sure it’s ready for him.” “Wayne put the crib together I think it’s fine.” “I’m gonna check on it anyway…don’t tell him though he’ll get all upset.” “What else are you gonna check?” “Uh well the crib was the last one on my list…” “good because I’m hungry so can we get dinner when you’re done triple checking everything?” “Sure baby..I’m gonna go check the crib.”

“Holy shit.” “What’s wrong Eddie?” “Your…your due date is uhm…in two weeks.” “Yeah?…and?” “And we are gonna have a fucking baby in two weeks.” “It’s going to be okay Eddie we are prepared…you’ve checked the car seat and the crib…and we’ve been to all the birthing classes Hawkins has.” “But that’s different than…actually being in the moment and having him.” “You’re going to be a great dad Eddie…if that’s what you’re secretly freaking out about.” “You think so?…I mean I know you’re going to be the best mom but I just…never thought I’d be someone’s dad.” “We both will probably mess up here and there but that’s okay because…we will love him and do our best.” “I do..I do love him…already.” “Same…but don’t start getting all mushy with me or I won’t be able to stop crying.” “Okay okay…yeah let’s not get your waterworks started.” “I love you..and he’s also going to love you Eddie.” “Thanks baby…I love you too.”

#pregnant conversations #eddie munson series #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x pregnant!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x mom!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie x mom!reader #dad!eddie munson #Eddie Munson #my little dungeon master baby

[night-minstrel]

Today, when I was messing around with my friends at the tram stop, some guy (introduced himself as a homeless alcoholic) randomly asked us what ideology were we talking about. We weren't talking about any ideology, just making fun of Greek mythology, but I had my jacket on (and I have quite a lot of pins and patches on it, including a pride flag, which is quite often considered ideology around here), so I went like, "which one?"

Turns out he didn't hear exactly what were we talking about and was convinced we were talking about an ideology according to which kids grow on the trees

#he told us to call the friend who thought so an idiot #the friend bc if who this conversation started was standing right there and was really embarrassed #also the guy made a big fuss about how the kids get to the world 'from us' #we're quite sure he meant we're the ones to get pregnant and deliver them #one of us is a cis guy so its even funnier #its the funniest thing that happened to me today

[corellianhounds]

Amidala the Resilient

Media: Revenge of the Sith

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,942

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, pregnancy, Force-choking, blood and injuries, traumatic labor and delivery, death in childbirth, no happy ending.

Art Credit: Iain McCaig, The Art of Star Wars, Episode III: Revenge of the Sith

Summary: In a universe where Anakin gradually descended into the Dark side of his own volition from the beginning— where his ambition and love were genuine and admirable, but the temptation of power too much— his turn is something much more destructive and purposeful. Amidala’s plan for retaliation is just as much so.

Padmé Amidala can feel tension twinging in her back and thighs. The pit in her stomach has coalesced into a tight knot as she steels herself for what she must do; she’s bringing a mattock and salt to the ground where pruning shears should have been used long ago.

Anakin had been too far gone for a long time, and the fault lay in her and everyone in his life willingly turning a blind eye too often to his myriad of faults. In the past two hours she has seen actions the result of which came from an upbringing where his temper, jealousy, and ambition were allowed to slide because those who thought him destined for some great cosmic good were willing to overlook occasional— and often objectively justified— acts of wrath and ruthlessness. He had always been so good at justifying his reasons and putting his actions in a more favorable light, showing enough willingness for correction over the years people thought he was receptive to guidance and change.

What she’d come to realize with dawning horror was that the seeds of destruction had been sown long ago, and though the vines had borne occasional good fruit, they had always grown with selfish intent, inevitably choking out everything around them in an effort to keep his own desires hidden behind the barrier of thorns.

In the next hour, she will come face to face with the monster of a man he’s become.

The Jedi master doesn’t know. Kenobi knows she has some plan but wrongfully assumes it is to appeal to whatever mistaken shred of humanity might remain in Anakin. Obi-Wan— even now, even after what they saw— cares for him as a brother and would sooner cut off his own hand than see Anakin completely lost to the Dark. Padmé however has finally seen clarity of purpose.

For Anakin to be stopped, he must be killed.

The ship arrives on Mustafar. Padmé wrenches herself away from the viewport as Obi-Wan lands and she gingerly lowers herself to the cargo hold, donning a cloak. Obi-Wan hurriedly finishes the landing cycle, calling her name as she gathers her strength, but she’s hardly listening to him at this point and she knows she must conceal herself from him so he has no chance of stopping her.

A hand on her shoulder makes her flinch, and the Jedi lets go almost in surprise. “Padmé, you don’t have to do this. I will talk to him.”

“No,” she says, keeping her left hand secured across her waist beneath the voluminous sleeve as she cleared a path to the lowering gangway. “He’s made it very clear he’s past the point of reasoning with the Jedi. I will speak with him, and if I cannot convince him to come with us calmly, or I cannot ascertain his next move, I expect you to do what’s necessary to end this treasonous rebellion. That is an order.”

It was all false diplomacy, of course, for his sake. Padmé had no intention of believing Anakin was anywhere close to the realm of negotiation. They were far past that.

But she needed assurance that she could get close enough to Anakin to act decisively. She couldn’t have Kenobi interfering, not at this juncture.

Oppressive heat surrounded her as she swept down the ramp to the barren ground. Magma roiled and churned, flames flickering at the edge of the peninsula as Padmé approached the figure so cloaked in darkness an aura of blackened energy almost seemed to emanate from his form. The grip of the hidden dagger dug into her hand, grounding her as she approached.

Padmé’s eyes burned with a ferocity to match her husband’s. It was time for this to end.

When Obi-Wan had seen her determination in the hold of the ship he had never for a moment anticipated what it would lead to.

Padmé steadily approached Anakin, cloak and hood protecting her from the blaze. He could see her speaking forcefully with him, her face hidden from view but Anakin’s darkening by the moment in response. His right hand, devoid of glove, clenched the hilt of an already ignited saber, the bloodshine blade standing in stark contrast to his own cloak. Its presence alone was alarming, but Obi-Wan had been subject to so many tragedies that night already, he merely assumed Anakin had readied it in the expectation of facing his master.

What Obi-Wan hadn’t known was what Padmé concealed until she tried to close the distance between them, her own blade in hand. What followed happened in the span of a heartbeat.

Anakin’s saber blocked it on instinct, easily halting the approach of Padmé’s dagger, his eyes widening in surprise. In the following moment his left hand raised and with it, so did Padmé.

Obi-Wan’s astonishment lasted only a fraction of a second as he yelled “NO!” Padmé’s feet left the ground as an invisible force clutched her neck in a crushing, intangible grip, and in the breadth of time Padmé scrabbled at her throat, Obi-Wan acted.

Anakin stumbled back from the force of the bolt hitting his shoulder, releasing his hold on Padmé. Padmé crumpled to the ground in a heap, and Anakin’s sights zeroed in on Kenobi, standing at the mouth of the ship with both blaster and lightsaber in hand. Snarling, Anakin stalked towards his old master and brought his lightsaber down, red clashing against blue.

Padmé Amidala, heartbroken and dying, drags herself bleeding to the communication console.

Kenobi can hear her movement in the bay and yells her name, telling her not to move, that he’ll come to help her as soon as the ship breaches the atmosphere, and she stalwartly ignores him, cradling the underside of her belly with one hand and using the other to support herself on the railing around the sparse artillery deck. Her broken ankle protests at every movement, sending lightning arcing up the leg where she puts her unsteady weight. The cramps in her abdomen spread like bone-coral, sharp and hot and agonizing in her pelvis, sides, back— Every tendon and muscle in her body screams at their owner to relent, to succumb to the creeping darkness pressing around her vision, but she cannot allow herself peace until she finishes what she started.

Padmé staggers at the ship’s turbulent acceleration, her forearm slamming out against the bulkhead as the lights flicker, and she curses the unsteady pilot she thought was her friend. Perhaps if she’d been accompanied by someone more decisive, someone whose fatal flaw wasn’t a love too great for a brother that no longer existed, Anakin would have been dealt with and she’d have the wherewithal to fight against the added pain of a labor she was sure would tear her in two.

Sweat pours from her brow and forces her already shaking, slippery hands to scrabble for purchase on the blasted polished finery of a spoiled noble’s ship. Her muscles spasm and she gasps in abject terror as she feels something inside her snap; the membrane within her had ruptured.

Gravity pulls on her bones as her muscles betray her, and she collapses against the bench. Fingernails scrape vinyl and she chokes out a guttural, rending cry of pain in the effort it takes to haul herself upward into the seat.

Obi-Wan is yelling again. Traitorous coward.

Padmé punches in the covert frequency on the transmitter. Her other hand rests on her stomach, her infants moving restlessly under her touch. She forces the hot flashes of pain back, shoving down every instinctive response to curl in on herself.

“Sabé—,” she says into the comm, gritting her teeth and tasting blood once more; the contractions were stronger and with a strangled grunt she yanks the comm closer, ignoring the frantic waves of worry rolling off of the useless Jedi in the pilot’s seat.

“Sabé, if you find the man who was my husband,” she chokes, the creeping black at the edges of her vision beginning to overtake her.

“Kill him.”

Obi-Wan sat listlessly on a bench in the hold, what bloodied clothing he still wore sticking to him like a second skin. His hand rested on the makeshift bassinet, a gun locker repurposed into a cradle.

He could only imagine what directive she’d felt necessary enough to strain herself to get across the sublight waves; he could only imagine because the message was encrypted and the recipient unknown, and her mind had been shielded from his probing. He didn’t know whether to blame his failed use of the Force on the heartbroken, distracted nature of his psyche being pulled in a thousand directions as he’d manually flown from Mustafar’s orbital pull in order to make the jump to lightspeed, or to blame some unknown energy stalwartly blocking him from Padmé’s mind. Reaching out to her had felt like hitting a steel wall.

The tumult of their departure had preoccupied him until he was sure he’d escaped whatever enemy fighters Anakin’s new master had sent after them, the maneuvering less of a dogfight and more of a half-cocked evasive prayer for the hull to remain intact long enough for them to break atmo. Klaxons blared and the astronav’s interface barked orders, warning him of too many systems he already knew were damaged enough that if they took even one more hit to the hull they would be obliterated; shields were failing, exterior panelling being shorn off, the pursuing fighters gaining on them— Until by some stroke of luck he’d found a slip in space to pull through and immediately jump to lightspeed.

Lightspeed jumps themselves were already hazardous to expecting parents’ health. He was terrified of the condition she had been in when he’d finally gotten her onboard, and the fact he could sense her moving with purpose somewhere below decks while he tried to shake the fighters had sent his heart rate skyrocketing.

Piloting had never been his forte. As soon as they’d hit hyperspace he’d slammed a hand against the autopilot controls and bolted from the dash, scrambling down to the hold below.

He swore under his breath, calling her name and skidding to a halt beside her. Her face twisted in agony, her hands clutching the underside of her abdomen. Obi-Wan knelt beside her, hesitant to move her and instead ran a quick check over her vitals, astonished at what he found.

Broken bones in her leg, fractured ribs, internal bleeding, damaged trachea— how had she even moved?! By all rights she should be dead and yet something had propped her up long enough for her to drag herself to the terminal and send a message.

And now she was in labor.

“Kenobi—” she spat derisively, grabbing his tunic. “Get— up—“

“Padmé, hold still, let me—”

He was cut off as a violent shudder wracked her body, her limbs curling in on herself with a gurgling cry. Panicked desperation lanced through him as he reached out and grasped tendrils of the Force, gingerly cradling her neck and attempting to delicately, swiftly mend ligaments he couldn’t see. If he was even a millimeter incorrect, she would die.

A misaligned vertebrae shifted back into place, and Padmé screamed.

Obi-Wan bit back a sob, carefully tracing his fingers on either side of the back of her neck with as much force as he dared in an attempt to still her and provide what pain relief he could as his own energy was leached from him. Padmé gasped, her eyes flying open, her expression stricken as she looked up at the ceiling. Her iron grip loosened as the tension dissipated, if only in one area. She gulped air as if coming up from the bottom of a lake, and Obi-Wan settled as he felt his strength wane. A concrete task was better than guesswork at unknown variables.

The reprieve didn’t last long; Padmé grunted in pain, convulsing as a contraction rippled through her torso again. Further assessment revealed her leggings and the floor beneath her to be drenched, and Obi-Wan’s panic flared again.

“I have to get you up—”

“If you move me I will kill you,” she spat harshly. She trembled despite the ferocity of her glare, her hand still twisted in his robe. “There is no time— Here and now, Kenobi. Make do.”

“Padmé—”

“Look around you,” she seethed. “There’s no level surface in this blasted ship big enough to work. There are no other choices. There is no one else to help. Sleeves up. Now.”

Kenobi’s brow remained twisted as he stripped off his outer tunic, knowing it was laden with silicate and volcanic dust. Padmé propped herself up on her elbows as he raced to scour his hands and forearms, coming back to remove her boots so he could work her outer garments free. Whether the blood seeping between her teeth was due to the injuries she’d sustained or because she was gritting them hard enough one had cracked, he didn’t know.

Padmé gasped again as the fracture in her shin shifted— He wanted to settle her, to fix this, but the contractions were coming more quickly and closer together. They were running out of time.

He finally seated himself before her, kneeling and shaking in just his undershirt and trousers, feeling acutely unprepared for what was to come. Battlefield triage and casualty care were the extent of his healing knowledge, and though he was adept at relieving or numbing acute nociceptive responses, it was usually with soldiers whose minds were open for him to assess areas of injury. A commander with a blaster burn would be focused on the point where his plastoid hadn’t covered. A civilian’s attention after suffering a fall would be turned to the joints and bones that took the brunt of the effects of gravity.

Labor and delivery were far too different from his experience in the medical field.

And Padmé was still blocking him out.

Her knuckles gripped bone-white to a ridge of floor plating, one knee bent and her foot planted flat. The other lay weakly to the side, and Obi-Wan grit his teeth as he raised it up to rest over his thigh despite the lancing pain he felt radiating from her, tucking a blanket beneath her and readying his hands for whatever instruction he prayed she could give. With him gathering his wits and her gathering her strength, they set to work.

The whole ordeal couldn’t have lasted longer than thirty minutes, and it was the longest and most arduous process of their lives. Between her strangled cries, his intuition, and the muscle spasms that told him everything about this was wrong, Kenobi’s concern grew with the pool of blood beneath her, and she forced him to focus on the children, refusing to allow him any modicum of time spent healing her injuries between her screams. Untended bone cracked further as she thrashed, her screams echoing back in the cargo hold.

By the time Kenobi had swaddled the two squalling— living!— infants in what sterile dressing he could find from the field kit, Padmé had gone a sickly pale. Her skin was waxy under the recessed halogen lighting, her hair sticking to her forehead. Dark circles rimmed her eyes and different muscle groups continued twitching of their own accord as if sparked by electricity. Obi-Wan was torn between ensuring the infants had been properly cared for, and wanting to drag Padmé to the captain’s berth to fully assess her wounds and heal her: Padmé kept stubbornly shoving him away, tears tracking unnoticed down her face as she continued to choke out instructions for the care and keeping of her children.

He’d finally been forced to stop when that iron grip returned in full force— Padmé grabbed his arm and yanked him down to where she had propped herself up against the wall. Kenobi lurched forward, her ashen face now level with his. She forced her voice to obey despite the strain in her throat, rasping the words she needed to say.

“Keep them away from him.” The venom in her tone was undeniable. “You keep them safe, Kenobi, get— get them as far away as you can—”

Kenobi grunted, refusing to let her continue her orders. He pressed a palm to her chest, willing those wisps of energy to sustain her just a few moments longer as he tried to haul her up into his lap, coax her arm around him so he could lift her— If he could just get her somewhere comfortable, somewhere clean, if he could focus—

Padmé shrieked in pain, clawing at his chest and arms, and the sum of their separate fights came crashing down on him as the Force dissipated from his mind’s grasp. His knees gave out, his strength sapped from the energy he had poured into her, and they lay heavily back against the terminal yet again. The children cried distantly behind them.

“Padmé, please…” Obi-Wan pleaded, tears streaking down his face, but she shook her head yet again.

“Keep them safe,” she coughed, begging for the first time. “Get them away f-from—”

“He’s gone, Padmé, Anakin is gone—”

She shook her head fiercely, squeezing her eyes shut. “No. He’s there. I can feel him.”

“Listen to me— Anakin is dead, I saw him—”

“You’re wrong,” Padmé said. Her breath rattled. Tears dripped from her chin. “If— If you won’t k-kill him then t-take care o-of them. Wh-Whatever it takes.”

Her chest hitched as she gasped around the liquid filling her lungs. Her bloody hand trembled against his neck. She hiccuped, her eyes went glassy, and her hand fell away.

And in the stillness of hyperspace, Padmé Amidala Naberrie passed from one life to the next.

It had been an hour since then. Only an hour since Obi-Wan had had to keep himself from buckling under the weight of his grief, an hour since he’d sobbed on the floor of a ship as one of his oldest and dearest friends died in his arms. The former queen of Naboo, dying in the bloody cargo hold of a stolen ship, her own life stolen from her by the one person the two of them had trusted beyond measure while her infant children cried out for comfort he felt wholly incapable of providing. Obi-Wan wept alongside them, digging his fingers into the cold, unfeeling floor, wanting to scream as the agony of heartbreak threatened to overwhelm him.

So many dead, or lost. There was no solace even in the Force.

But as Obi-Wan Kenobi found himself doing so often in his life, he shoved his feelings down into the furthest recesses of his broken heart, let go of another loved one returned to the Force, and turned himself back to the task at hand.

The infants were asleep now. He’d shakily scrubbed at his face and arms with cold water and spared only enough time under the sanisteam to ensure he was clean enough to handle them before finding a spare undershirt for himself. He fed them, cleaned them up, and held both of them together against his chest as they squirmed, dissatisfied at their situation before accepting their present accommodations and falling asleep. By the ship’s chrono he had roughly two standard hours before the ship was due to drop out of hyperspace.

He sat unseeing in the captain’s berth with the ad hoc bassinet nearby. Padmé was still in the hold; he couldn’t be two places at once, and he couldn’t stay down there with the children.

Something bothered him about the infants in his arms, though. Once the girl had passed from Padmé’s body, it almost seemed like the barrier keeping him from sensing Padmé’s thoughts had broken. He was too drained and scattered to dwell on it as his last moments with her had been focused on her well-being, but despite his utter exhaustion he had a suspicion that had already begun to crystallize under the sheer openness of the twins’ young presences within hyperspace.

It troubled him.

Whatever message she’d sent was evidently received by the people she’d needed it to. Bail Organa met him at the hastily assembled but covert rendezvous, his ensuing shock and horror upon entering the ship’s docking ramp turning to commanding resolve as he followed the trail of destruction to Kenobi’s station. Organa had to shake him from his stupor before Obi-Wan could tell him of Mustafar, of the newly appointed Sith and Padmé’s scheme, and of Padmé’s last words. The senator’s brow furrowed. He knelt next to the Jedi, looking over the sleeping children.

“What of Anakin?”

Obi-Wan shook his head tiredly. “I cannot sense him. I don’t believe Anakin is alive.”

“… Who else did she contact?” Bail asked.

Tears dripped onto Obi-Wan’s shirt. “I don’t know.”

Bail sighed, bringing one hand up to rest on his shoulder. “I am truly sorry, Obi-Wan. For everything.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t respond.

Bail’s team, handpicked and vetted by the senator himself, worked below decks as the men weighed their options. The aftermath of the despotic coup was rippling out and changing by the minute; the Jedi had been slaughtered and scattered, the clones had broken all communication, and the Senate had reached a fever pitch of chaos. Anything that needed to be decided needed to be done now.

The feeling of loss that bordered on consuming him was one he’d rarely felt in his lifetime as acutely as he did now. The comfort he found in the Force was absent. He’d felt like a ship unmoored when his master was killed. Now it was as though he’d been dropped into the middle of a hurricane.

Bail’s hands were clasped loosely together against his forehead, elbows resting on his knees as he bowed his head in thought. Kenobi could have been a corpse for how still and gaunt he was.

“Obi-Wan…” Bail began. “Are you certain Skywalker is dead?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “I cannot sense him at all.”

Bail was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. “… But you, of all people, couldn’t sense what must have been growing within him. Is it at all possible the body of Anakin remains, but the reason you cannot find him is because the man we knew is entirely lost to the Dark?”

A chilling fissure of clarity cut through Obi-Wan’s senses. His reaction told Bail everything he needed to know.

Even if it was only a suspicion, they could not afford to waste time figuring out the emperor’s next move. Anything that could be used to motivate Vader had to be hidden from public knowledge. They couldn’t leave a trace of his past behind.

Bail mulled over his thoughts, then stood, gesturing for Kenobi as his resolve hardened to steel. “Come. We have work to do. We will mourn when we are done.”

Sabé trembled with the effort it took to control her breathing. She stowed her bag behind the seat of the starship and brought the engine to life, moving with purpose as tears streamed unbidden down her face.

The ship rose, coordinates locked in place to meet the others of her gathering retinue. These weren’t the orders of former nobility, of a governing senator— This was the last request of a dying friend, someone whose very existence was woven into her bones. Padmé Amidala’s death would not be in vain.

Sabé looked out beyond the stars, her breathing finding stasis despite the ocean of grief beneath it.

“My hands are yours, Padmé,” she said to herself. “For as long duty compels them.”

She wasn’t going to kill Anakin. Not until he felt every bit of the pain and suffering he deserved.

Notes:

The line “clarity of purpose” comes from Saw Gerrera in the Andor TV show

I wrote Sabé’s line before seeing that one similar was used in one of the books. Good to know I was on the right track with a character I know very little about lol

#Revenge of the Sith #Star Wars fanfiction #Padme Amidala #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Bail Organa #Sabé #Heed the tags #prequel trilogy #The Force works in mysterious ways #my writing #If you’re aiming to write a tragedy. make it tragic ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #I think Amidala and Kenobi should have known there was no reasoning with Anakin given everything they find out prior to Mustafar #I think Kenobi’s lack of action at seeing his best friend strangle his pregnant wife is utterly baffling #Like that should have been the point Obi-Wan realized ‘‘OH’’ and pulled a glock on him #I also think it’s dumb to reduce Padme’s death down to just a broken heart because Anakin DID strangle her #(In case it isn’t clear here. Padme tried to stand and fight Anakin again after Kenobi started fighting too.) #I was nooooooot going to write out the literal longest swordfight in cinema history. It simply wasn’t going to happen 😆 #The prequels needed more of a sense of urgency at every turn. Just from like a storytelling standpoint there were— #— way too many calm conversations being had about events or topics that needed to be paired with active choices and danger/deadlines #ANYWAY my point is #I only wanted to write this epilogue to revised prequel trilogy #not the whole thing #I’m already revising other stuff. Prequels would be too much work #TLDR: Anakin would have been better served as a character if he were the one driving the action instead of the story happening to him #He needed to be more impressive. more powerful. more loved by a multitude of characters. #More dangerous. and actively seeking out the power himself. He is otherwise uncompelling to me. #If he were written more like Boromir these movies would have been more of a tragedy #AO3 link in reblog

[elidee-art]

When the cis gay guy you're hooking up with keeps actively forgetting you're trans and panics a little

In his defense, he's never had to grapple with the possibility of his partners being a pregnancy risk before. He spent a solid 30 seconds thinking he might be a dad and not know it

#tiefling #tiefling oc #dnd #dnd oc #dnd comic #fortune backstory #fortune the pirate #carlin the pirate #the kilcairn expedition #carlin just. constantly forgetting that Fortune is trans #not in the 'i think you're cis' way but in a 'why would that change anything about us hooking up/the way your body works' way #he's never had to think about a body that could get pregnant in relation to his and it leads to a lot of conversations like this #'what do u MEAN it doesn't shut off when you realize you're a guy thats not FAIR?'

[agentsnickers]

coworker looked at me this morning and said "i don't know how to put this delicately, but i have never seen you look worse than this"

#it came from a place of concern/care it just made me chuckle that he said it like this #(he also asked me very delicately if I might be pregnant which i am not but was an understandable guess based on my symptoms lol) #finn talks #since this conversation i have been sent home from work early

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

Awful news: I am now reaching the point I need to know what happens in the middle of chapter 11 so that I can organize the order of things and lead into The Meat Of The Events

#personal #fic: sins of the father #i know ella talks with shireen before alicent (bc shireen is her emotional support for dealing with Pregnant Bestie) #and i know there's an awkward talk with rhaenyra #and that aunt rina is there #and that i can establish more of the royces & the baratheons & hint at some other houses there #and the strongs are there (bc the meat of the chapter is them helping rhea contain this girl) #but MY GOD i have no idea for major events or conversations or the order of operations

[yuridovewing]

yeah you would say that, leafstar, wouldnt you.

#i was literally abt to make a joke like ‘’man leafstar is awfully quiet in this conversation abt terrorizing a pregnant woman’’ #sqh liveread

[harrywavycurly]

What would Eddies reaction be to seeing his sons ultrasound for the first time? I feel like he would ask the Doc, now are you absolutely positive it’s a boy😂

Hiii lovey!!! This kills me because dad to be Eddie just turns me to mush so enjoy this little conversation!💖

*Eddie hasn’t seen his son during an ultrasound until today…and he just wants to double check a few things*

“That’s him?…like right there that’s…that’s him?” “Yes Eddie that’s our son…right there.” “Are they like…sure it’s a boy?…can they like uhm…double check?” “Double check? Eddie…it’s very clear that he’s a boy…” “it doesn’t hurt to ask…just to make sure…uh Ma’am…you’re like positive it’s a boy right?” “Yes sir…you’re having a son…is this your first one?” “Oh uh yeah yeah it’s our…first one…” “Look Eddie he’s moving…he likes the sound of your voice.” “Wayne wanted to see if we could get him a few photos? Is that…possible?” “Sure we can make some copies…I’ll leave you two alone for a moment I’ll be right back.” “You can breathe now Eddie.” “Holy shit…look at him…he’s so big…it feels like…real now.” “Yeah? Like I’m really going to have a baby in three months?” “Yeah like..holy fuck.” “Edward…language.” “Sorry baby…”

#eddie munson ask night #eddie munson x pregnant!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson x you fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie Munson #my little dungeon master baby #boyfriend eddie munson #pregnant conversations #pregnant convos