#jedi em au

[sunlightandsuffering]

POSTING JEDI AU BC I WANT IT TO SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY BC I LOVE IT AND IT'S SO CUTE !!!

Jedi AU

Mikasa comes to Eren at sixteen, prim and shy, but ever eager to please. Eren is twenty-one, and he is not at all impressed with the assignment. 

Everyone else heralds it as an honour, what a big achievement to have your own padawan learner when he’s barely an adult himself. 

Eren on the other hand sees the ‘honour’ for what it really is: babysitting. And not just for him, but for Mikasa as well.

Because his own master had been drawn away on other assignments, missions that Eren couldn’t go on. And the Jedi Order couldn’t have their most rebellious young master running around the galaxy unsupervised. So, they’d given him Mikasa and said here, teach her. They’d successfully saddled him with more responsibility than he’d ever wanted and effectively knee-capped him from doing anything too crazy… Not that the things he did were ever really that crazy, they just weren’t so perfectly in line with the Jedi Order’s world philosophy. She’d stepped off the ship in a blaze of barely contained excitement, he could tell, even as quiet as she was that she was practically bursting with energy, but she’d been raised by the order, so what could he really expect? Orphaned at a young age and found miraculously on the burning remains of her planet, Mikasa had been taken in by a wandering Jedi and raised at the temple. 

For all intents and purposes, she was the perfect specimen, everything a Jedi should be and so not who Eren had wanted to teach. 

She’d looked up at him dutifully, waiting to be spoken to, eager to receive orders and Eren knew immediately she was going to be a problem. They were so diametrically opposed it was laughable, and he thinks the Order probably is laughing at him, payback for causing them so much trouble over the years. Eren sighs, reaching his hand out for a shake, “I’m Eren Yeager, I’ll be your new Master.” “I’m Mikasa,” she tells him sweetly, finally letting a small smile overtake her lips, “I look forward to working with you.” Oh, this was going to be a struggle of epic proportions, he can already tell.

The longer Eren spends with Mikasa, the more sure he is that the Jedi Temple moulded her to be everything he isn’t, to be his worst nightmare personified. 

Because that’s exactly what she is. 

“Well, Master I think we should follow Jedi protocol, and it says to call –” “Mikasa,” He tells her warningly, and she shuts up, her mouth pursing shut, she’s used to it at this point. 

This is how 90 percent of their discussions go these days. “The other masters will be mad,” she sing songs as Eren drags a droid away from the wreckage of the ship he’s trying to access. 

Eren sends her an unimpressed glare over his shoulder, grunting as he hefts the droid out of the way, “Yeah, well the Jedi Order can stuff it, there’s a lot of things they get mad at me about.” “Why do you insist on doing everything incorrectly? Maybe if you did things the right way like I tell you to, then you wouldn’t get in so much trouble.” “Who’s the Master here, Mikasa?” She shuts up again, huffing in irritation and Eren has to remind himself it’s him, he’s literally the master here, their very small age gap and her immense knowledge of Jedi principles blurs the line sometimes. He’s only five years older, sometimes it’s a little hard to boss her around so much, especially when to top it all off she’s almost as good of a fighter as him. He curses away to himself as he steps into the abandoned ship, because of course, he had to be paired with the most gifted Jedi of the new generation, topping even him in her midiclorian count and with the uncanny natural ability to simply kick ass. Her fighting skills are amazing, almost on par with his own, her only fatal flaw is perhaps that she’s such a rule follower. It blinds her in other aspects, makes her too trusting, too sweet. 

Something that could one day get her killed. Eren looks back sharply at the thought, his pain-in-the-ass little padawan nowhere to be found, standing guard until she’s given another order, proving his point. Eren sighs, “Mikasa, get over here brat.” He hears her make a little noise of affront at being called a brat, she gets all cute when she’s huffy, like an angry kitten, and then there are footsteps as she enters the ship. She’s hurrying so fast she runs right into him and Eren grunts as her little body collides with his at full speed, but he’s quick to steady her, firmly grasping her shoulders. 

“Mika,” he chides softly, “Be careful okay, and remember to follow me okay, what if there were still enemies out there, what if something happened to you?” There’s a pretty blush staining her cheeks, but still, she protests, “I can take care of myself!” Eren quirks an eyebrow up at her, his hands rubbing softly up and down her biceps, “And what did I say about that?” Her cheeks puff up as she repeats his words back to him, “I can’t say that until I can beat you in a spar three times in a row.” “And have you?” He questions, because yeah, sometimes being her Master is a little bit fun. “No,” she grumbles out in irritation and he smirks, giving her a playful love tap to her cheek before letting her go, and she gasps in response, “Eren!” 

“Master,” he corrects easily, already slipping further into the ship to investigate, and now he’s really pissed her off, her usually sweet, quiet presence raging behind him. She’s stomping around the ship, showcasing her rage at being spoken down to, and Eren can’t help his smile as he inspects the engine controls, trying to grasp what exactly went wrong here. He hears something fall but doesn’t look back, engrossed in attempting to revive part of the ship, maybe he can find an old flight path if he gets it going. 

His fingers fiddle with buttons and wires, all the while Mikasa seems to be making a lot of noise behind him, a lot more noise than he thinks he’s ever heard her make before. Mikasa really is the perfect padawan, or well she probably would be for any other Jedi – intelligent, kind, brilliant fighting skills, quick on her feet – all qualities necessary in a great Jedi. 

Eren would have preferred someone more flawed, an orphan with maybe a bit more emotional damage he could counsel, someone more similar to him. Not quite such a rule follower, someone he could really bond with, who might look up to him. 

Mikasa isn’t any of those things. Except for right now, it seems as Eren turns around finally after something else goes crashing to the ground. His padawan is glaring at him from where she’d very obviously knocked something over, sweet, docile Mikasa who never allows her emotions to get the better of her is evidently, very displeased with him. 

And most interestingly, demanding his attention, even more as she stares him down, those quicksilver eyes raging, purposefully knocking something else right off the shelf next to her. She’s exactly like a cat, a displeased little creature that gets what it wants. Eren can barely repress his smile, maybe there’s still hope for him yet, some fire in those pretty silver eyes of hers. 

He’s almost giddy at the thought because maybe she’s not a completely lost cause, maybe he can still corrupt her just a little, mould her into being a truly great Jedi instead of a standard foot soldier, someone who thinks for themselves, assesses the situation and decides the next course of action instead of consulting the damn Jedi temple on everything. “Miki,” Eren hums, and she perks right up at the name, it’s one she favours and something he doesn’t call her often, reserves it for special circumstances. “Are you mad at me?” “What gave you that idea?” “Miki,” he chides, beckoning her forwards, and she stomps towards him angrily. 

She stops just before him, glaring up at his tall frame, evergreen locked with silver and Eren smiles, full and genuine at the cute little expression of rage on her face, eyebrows knitted together in irritation. “Tell me what’s wrong?” “Master, you always dismiss me! And you rarely let me fight, even though I can. At the temple I was the best, I beat all the other kids, and I- I was so excited when I found out I’d be training under you, but you never let me show off, never let me fight.” She deflates towards the end of her monologue and Eren hums in acknowledgement, “It’s not because I don’t trust you Mikasa, I’d just rather watch you fight in more controlled environments first. It’s only been a few months, I don’t want to throw you head first into battle.” “But-” He tuts her, his hand slipping up into the tangles of her hair, pushing her bangs back behind her ears, he’s always had a fascination with that sleek pretty black hair of hers, how soft it is, how it feels under his fingertips, “Don’t worry I’m going to let you fight Mikasa, but once you can beat me three times in a row, which I know you will do.” He gives a soft little yank at one of the dark strands of her hair, “You’re a great fighter Mikasa, brilliant, especially with your lightsaber, but you fight predictably. Just like the Order teaches, the same spar you’ve done a hundred times. That’s not how real enemies fight, that’s not how I fight.” Eren smirks, his hand combing out her hair now, something Mikasa leans into, has always enjoyed the rare time he shows her affection.

“I fight dirty, and I always win. There’s a reason I’m so revered at the temple, that my missions are always successes, albeit with perhaps more damage than I’d usually like. It’s because my methods differ from the Jedi temple, and I think that’s something you need.” 

“Oh,” she murmurs softly, eyes now shut, like a cat, as he continues to finger his hands through her hair, his other one slipping up to join in the soft thick strands. She makes a little noise of contentment as he gathers the thick dark mop of her hair in his hands, leaning in as he styles it into a makeshift bun, using his own hair elastic to fasten it at the base of her head. He presses a soft kiss to her temple as he finishes, affection she’s never had, that Eren can’t help but give, something the Jedi Order frowns upon but Mikasa needs more than anything, such a touch-starved child. 

His hands skim down now, settling over her shoulders, “Do you understand now? It’s not because I don’t trust you, it’s because we’re already training Mikasa, and if I have my way you’ll be the best Jedi the order has ever seen.” “Even better than you?” She breathes curiously, her eyes soft and warm now, pliant, heather grey. He chuckles, “Of course, you’re my padawan after all, you’ll have to be better than me.” Mikasa smiles, such a full and beautiful smile, so bright he almost has to look away, “I have to train all those bad Jedi habits out of you though, I think they sent me the worst recruit they could find.” At this, she smacks him and Eren cackles, pinching her side. 

“At least I know how to cook.” Eren guffaws, “Barely!” “I’m better than you!” “Not by much.”

Sometimes, Mikasa wonders how Eren ever thought she wouldn’t fall in love with him. 

Force, how the Jedi Order had thought she wouldn’t fall in love with him? It’s like they were hoping for it. Even when she was younger, she could remember hearing about the trouble-making padawan that no matter how he went against the Jedi temple rules, never had an unsuccessful mission. She had been enamoured, who was this boy, this legend in the making? And then as she’d gotten older, moved up the ranks herself, set to become a padawan, she’d seen him in action and she’d been star-struck. Only once in battle before she’d been ushered away to safety, only a glimpse, but the way his hair had stuck to his forehead, slick with sweat, blood spattering his tunic, forearms pulled taut as he held his light-saber. He’d looked like a vengeful God, and for reasons unknown to her, she hadn’t been able to get him out of her head ever since. He’d appear in her dreams, always standing over her, shirtless, saving her life, the lines of his back cut like there should be wings there. 

She’d seen him only once more before she’d become his padawan, and it had only elevated him further in her mind, up high on that pedestal she could never reach, never even hope to touch. He’d been in the middle of the council, and she’d been sneakily walking by, only to hear the voices of the council. And Mikasa, ever the dutiful student, hadn’t been able to help her curiosity. What she saw had been the dressing down of a lifetime, as Eren stood in the middle of the council, being utterly ripped apart for his most recent mission. She’d been nodding her head along, agreeing, until Eren had finally defended himself, speaking of all the lives he’d saved. 

That had shut them up rather promptly, and Eren had been smirking when she’d finally disappeared down the hall, her heart beating with far more than just the adrenaline of listening in on a top-secret meeting. 

Because Eren had looked particularly handsome that day, his hair windswept against his cheeks, the long cloak the Jedi typically wore conspicuously absent to display lean muscle instead. 

And now, at sixteen, the peak age for puberty, when hormones are running high, especially in battle, the Jedi Order had thought it was a great idea to pair her off with a handsome rebellious twenty-one-year-old? It was cruel, to be honest. Everyone else she knew had older men with beards for masters, shrivelled up and half dead. And here she was with probably the best-looking boy she’d ever seen in her life, and he was around her all the time. Mikasa knew she would be a good Jedi, it was what she was born and raised for after all, she’d spent countless hours sparring, mastering her use of the force, everything to be the best she could possibly be. But lately, she finds what is thwarting her the most is the whole ‘no attachment’ part of being a Jedi. 

Because it’s becoming really hard for her not to get attached. 

Eren steps out of the bathroom, clad in only a towel, his other hand occupied in drying his long hair, water dripping down the divots of his abs. Her mouth suddenly feels very dry, and he sends her a wink as she eats her soup. Yeah, it’s becoming really, really hard for her not to get attached. He disappears down the hall to his quarters, and Mikasa spends ten minutes fanning herself, chanting the Jedi Code over and over again. 

No attachment, absolutely none, not allowed!

But really in hindsight how did they expect her not to fall in love? 

Eren is passionate, almost to a fault, and since she’s joined him on his missions as his padawan she’s realized that he’s particularly passionate about her safety. 

In a way, it’s kind of flattering, and in other ways, it makes her heart almost beat out of her chest. 

He’s always saving her, even when she doesn’t need saving, he’s always there. And afterwards, he’s scolding her for ever being in danger in the first place, as if it isn’t part of both of their jobs. 

But it’s afterwards, that’s the part she adores the most, after the lecture and the yelling when he’s tucking her into his chest and whispering into her hair how much she scared him, that she shouldn’t go out and be so reckless. To which she always replies cheekily, “Isn’t that what you trained me to do?” He always pinches her side for that particular comment, but it never gets old, being wrapped in the warmth and safety of his arms, it feels like coming home, like safety in a way the Jedi temple never has. 

“Mikasa,” Eren chastises her from the head of the ship where he’s piloting them off towards some faraway planet for their next mission, ready to shoot them into hyperdrive, “What are you doing?” He can tell she’s up to no good just by the sound of her footsteps, how she tries to soften them just slightly, her breathing clipped as she tries not to let him hear her. He spins in his chair to find her slipping out of his room, and he quirks an eyebrow curiously, repeating his question, “What are you doing?” She winces as she’s found out, slumping in place. She’s cute, adorably messy all dolled up in her pyjamas, hair tucked up behind her in a messy bun that he aches to pull into a proper one. Always her damn hair. 

“I had a nightmare,” she murmurs, “I was gonna go sleep in your bed.” “C’mere,” he beckons her, his hands just itching to properly tie up that silky hair of hers and almost as soon as she’s within reach he’s dragging her to his lap, turning her around. She shuts her eyes blissfully as she leans back into him, her head tilted against his shoulder as he massages her scalp, gathering the sleek strands into a soft bun at the base of her skull, one that won’t come out so easily like hers did. “What was the nightmare about?” He murmurs as he ties it up with her pretty red ribbon. “Losing my parents.” She doesn’t miss a beat, and Eren sighs as he turns her in his lap, her hair now secured properly. “Are you scared?” She shakes her head, grey eyes tearing up, “I just miss them.” And before she can stop herself, the tears are rushing down her cheeks in hot streaks, more than Eren is equipped to deal with. He sighs, rough hands coming up to wipe at her tears tenderly, “I’m not going to bed anytime soon I have to pilot us to the next planet, but why don’t you sit with me? You can keep me company.” “Okay,” she murmurs through her tears and Eren settles her in the chair next to him, piling her up high with a soft fuzzy blanket as he tucks her into the large swivel chair. “Better?” He asks, and she nods, wiping the rest of her tears into the blanket and Eren smiles, his hand finding her knee to lovingly stroke, “You’ve got me now, I’m here, and I’ll never leave you.” “What about,” she sniffles slightly, “What about when I become a master in my own right?” Eren chuckles, “We’ve got a few more years but even then I think I’ll keep you around Miki, you’re not so bad.” She smiles through her tears, resting her head on her knees as she looks at him, “Would you have stayed with your master if you could?” 

Eren shrugs, his hand still resting on her knee comfortingly, and Mikasa shivers as he strokes over sensitive skin not covered by her blanket, his hands so big and warm. 

“Probably if I could have, but you know the council wanted me doing my own thing, cause less chaos that way, you know how it is.” It’s quiet for a moment and Eren smiles at her softly, squeezing her knee, “But I’m happy how things turned out, I got you instead and that’s not bad at all.” Her breath hitches and she feels like she can’t breathe, her eyes drawn towards his lips and the chiselled cut of his jaw, so brutally beautiful, the harsh angles of his face contrasted with the soft length of his eyelashes, those brilliant green eyes. He’s stunning, and she just wants to lean across the controls and kiss him, has to grip the arms of her chair just to stop herself. 

That night she falls asleep encased in his arms, even better than his bed, warm and protected. She’s only mildly upset the next morning when she wakes up in her own bed, devoid of her master, no evidence it had ever happened at all. Except when she glimpses her reflection in her bedroom mirror and where she expects to find bedhead sticking up at all angles, she finds only perfectly smooth plaits, meticulously woven and expertly banded together. 

Mikasa is not oblivious to the fact that Eren has needs, more carnal needs, it’s something she’d discovered a few months into her apprenticeship. She’d seen a pretty girl leaving his rooms as she reported, bright and early, ready to start the day. Eren hadn’t exactly been thrilled to see her, looking a little worse for wear. He’d grumpily told her to come back in an hour. 

She’d left wondering what this awful feeling in her gut was, this painful sorrow she didn’t understand. 

The feeling had only grown with every subsequent girl she saw him with, how he’d pick them up in different worlds between missions, shooing her off to her quarters and telling her not to knock on his door that night. The deep selfish part of her always wondered what he’d do if she did knock, if she claimed to have a nightmare, would he drop everything for her, push the girl out the door to tuck her into his arms instead? The only thing stopping her from testing the theory was her Jedi training, and her strict promise to herself not to get attached. 

She’s not attached already, she’s absolutely not! Well… maybe she is, just a little bit. 

And as she teeters on the edge of seventeen, a few months until her eighteenth birthday, her attachment becomes more and more apparent. She’s been with Eren for almost two years now, watching him, learning from him. She’s intimately familiar with him, his every quirk, every preference, how he likes his breakfast, how to beat him in a spar. 

It’s becoming dangerous, just how well she knows him, because she’s starting to notice things… things she has no business noticing.

Like his obsession with her hair, how he can never seem to pass up the opportunity to touch the long sleek strands, or how he fusses when she leaves it loose sometimes. He always claims it’s unacceptable for battle, too much of a liability, but Mikasa thinks he just likes to touch it, and she won’t complain. She’s grown to love it, the feeling of his hands in her hair, battle-calloused hands working at her scalp so gently, plaiting her hair with expert precision. 

Mikasa absolutely refuses to admit that she ruffles her bedhead up a little more than she should, that she enjoys how he fusses over her in the morning when it’s particularly wild. Mikasa has noticed this obsession with her hair also seems to extend to his overnight guest preferences. At first, it had pained her to see all these beautiful women slip from Eren’s quarters, long sleek dark hair, always a shade of dark brown or raven as her own, and always long and silky. Temptresses, Mikasa thought of them, beautiful women with perfect bodies, and long flowing hair, styled in a way Eren would never allow her to even think of. To leave her hair loose was to be killed in battle, and it was something her master adamantly refused, always pulled the pretty dark strands taut against the back of her head in some sort of twist. 

She tugs on her long strands self-consciously as she sips her morning tea, awaiting the exit of Eren’s visitor from last night. She’s thought about cutting the strands short, but she thinks Master would have even more of a conniption about that, and if nothing else she loves how he touches her, can’t help but finger the strands, comb his hands through the silky locks. 

Mikasa prides herself on how perfectly taken care of it is, always smelling of lavender and sage, preening when Eren notices the scent. There is the click of a door and Mikasa’s head snaps up, torn from her daydreams and she spots her, a blonde today, the golden colour more bronze, so dark it almost borders on brunette. And as they lock eyes, Mikasa’s mouth twists up in disgust, because she’s discovered another preference of her master’s, one she hadn’t been sure of, but today confirms it. 

He prefers Jedi women, to anyone else. 

She’s not sure when he picked up this proclivity, probably only in the last few months, but recently it feels like every girl she sees exiting his room she’s also seen around Jedi headquarters. 

It’s awkward, but at least they don’t linger. 

Because Jedi don’t form attachments… Thus, Mikasa cannot be forming an attachment. And there is, therefore, zero reason for her to be excited about the prospect of Eren preferring Jedi women, hopeful even. Why should she be excited about that? Why would she? She’s not attached, not at all. 

She’s also not jealous of the pretty blonde Jedi she’s seen around Jedi headquarters, that she’s seen Eren talk to more than she’d like. Mikasa does not fume silently as she watches the woman slip out of Eren’s bedroom, Jedi robes askew and with a slightly guilty look on her face. “Mikasa,” She whispers, shocked as she stands in the main lobby, a stand-off as she notices Mikasa seated at the ship’s helm, glaring miserably at Eren’s door. “Misha,” Mikasa responds coldly. 

Internally, she chastises herself, the ever-present voice of the order in her ear, urging her to call this woman ‘master’, to give her the respect she is owed. Mikasa takes a cue from Eren for once and continues to simply glare at the woman instead, the petty part of her refusing to even stand to greet her. “What are you doing up dear? I umm I hope we didn’t wake you –” “You didn’t,” Mikasa retorts, cutting her off, “But you should head out, Master and I have to leave soon.”

“Oh,” Misha mumbles, looking slightly put out, “Well could you pass along a message for me?” No, no she will not, but Misha doesn’t have to know that. “Tell him I’m around here a lot if he ever wants to…” Misha trails off and Mikasa wants to growl at her, how inappropriate the request is. The Jedi Order trained part of her kicking and screaming in her head about propriety and attachments and the fact that this is her fucking superior, asking her to proposition her own master on her behalf. But instead of saying anything, Mikasa forces a smile, just the smallest twitch of her lips, snuggling further back into her chair, “I’ll be sure to relay the message.” Misha smiles, “Thanks Mikasa, you’re a promising padawan I know you’ll do great things.” Yes, yes she will, but she doesn’t need this woman to tell her that. “Goodbye Misha,” Is Mikasa’s only response, a dismissal, and she can’t resist the cruel smile of triumph at how Misha deflates. The woman linger for another moment, glances back towards Eren’s door one more time as she leaves, looking slightly put out by the entire interaction. 

It is a small consolation to Mikasa, especially when Eren asks about her a few hours later, looking glum.  “Did you see Misha when she left this morning?”

“No,” Mikasa tells him primly, “But when we were fuelling up I saw her laughing with Master Reiner, they seem quite close.”

“Oh,” Eren replies, looking slightly put out, “I umm didn’t realize they knew each other so well.”

“Neither did I,” Mikasa comments casually, beginning to steer the ship out of the port, a responsibility Eren has finally allowed her again after the meteor incident.

“But they must be quite close,” She continues nonchalantly, “She was touching his arm, they seemed so comfortable together.”

Eren says nothing and Mikasa presses her lips together to repress her pleased smile as Eren drops down into the seat next to her, a hand slipping up to affectionately tug at her bangs, “Don’t crash the ship again please.”

She beams at him, “I’m only as good as my teacher, Master.”

“That’s it, give me the wheel, brat.”

Life is good.

[sayitan]

the young scout was silent as he moved through the wilds of pandora, ears pinned flat against his skull and his fingers curled tightly around the notched arrow upon his bow. neteyam watched the slow patrol of the rda's escort as they picked their way over the hacked remnants of what had once been a wellspring visited by many a creature until the rda's arrival. now it was a toxic cesspool, polluted by their machines and waste.

neteyam's upper lip curled back into a soundless snarl. the patrol was small, smaller than it should have been so far from the rda's base of operations. a single mobility unit, two infantrymen and a lone figure clad in earthen browns. it felt like a trap . . . a lure, and yet neteyam's fingers itched to take action. he straightened, pulling his arrow taught and took aim.

in that moment, the air shifted. a gentle caress of a warm breeze traced up the length of the young warrior's arm and neteyam hesitated. a split second of doubt was long enough as neteyam watched the infantrymen turn their weapons on their robed guest and neteyam let his arrow fly. it slammed into one of the armed soldiers with expert precision, slicing right through him and pinning the man to a far tree by the sheer force. // @sorehsu ♡'d for a starter .

[toska-writes]

✩Masterlist✩

Welcome to my blog I’m Toska! There is hardly enough fics about clones being the best big brothers so I’m here to change that!

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✩- My Favorites

-The Clone Wars-

“Random clone Headcannons P.1”

“Random clone Headcannons P.2”

“Sleeping/Cuddling Headcannons”

“Sleeping/Cuddling Headcannons P.2”

“Padawans” -Shaak Ti and Colt

“Jedi Maul AU” -Maul x Padawan!reader

“Clones and my quotes”

-𝐑𝐞𝐱-

“The Entire Galaxy”

“Can’t beat ‘em, Join em” ✩

“That’s all I ask”

“The Blues”

“Loyalty”

-𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐄𝐜𝐡𝐨-

“Snowfall”

“Seppie Tag”

“Ad’ika”

“Keep Your Head Up”

“Darken Worlds”✩

-𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞-

“Tranquility… sort of”

“Rain Rain Go Away”✩ art for this fic

-𝐊𝐢𝐱-

“Through the thick of battle”

“Stickers”

“Smiley Faces” (p.2 of Stickers)

-𝐂𝐨𝐝𝐲-

“Shiny”

“Adaptable”

“Dinner Party”

“Sunshine”✩

“Dead of Night”

-𝐖𝐚𝐱𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐢𝐥-

“Inconspicuous”

-𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟𝐟𝐞-

“Braids”

“Back into Place”

“Heartbeat”✩

“Jokers”

“Endure” ✩

“Survive” pt.2 of Endure

“What?”

-𝐅𝐨𝐱-

“Snack Buddies”

“You lost this”

-𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧-

“Unlikely pair”

-Delta Squad-

“The Wager”

“A buggy mission”

“Got your Back”

-The Bad Batch-

“Dog Days”

“Surprise!”

“Where the Stars can Shine”

-𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫-

“Safety in Numbers”✩

“Escape”

“Vision”

-𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐡-

“Rematch”✩

“Soar”

-𝐖𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫-

“Nightmare”

-𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫-

“Sniper”

“They’re.. Adopted”

“Foggy Memories”

“Concussion Protocol”

-𝐎𝐜𝐡𝐨 (𝐌𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐜)-

“Outcast”

“Strays”

“Anon story”

-Art-

“Ocho Headcannons and redraw”

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[kedsandtubesocks]

Happy ‘bakugou birthday party’ day to all of us celebrating 💥♡ Katsuki Bakugou you absolute gremlin thanks for taking over my life lmaooo mainly this is my thank you gift to the shining stars in my life @the-wild-wolves-around-you @ofmermaidstories @willowser for letting me ramble on and on about this ridiculously obscure but near and dear to my heart mandalorian AU

(oh mandalorian bakugou how I love to hurt you)

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚‧͙⁺˚*･༓☽ ☾ ༓･*˚⁺‧͙ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

“When did you realize you were in love with the Jedi?” Yui Kodai is a quiet woman.

Kirishima had joked on the day the arranged marriage was announced she would be the perfect opposite to mellow him out. Instead Bakugou found he couldn't warn up to her icy tempered distance. Hell, he even forgot Kodai was in the training class opposite to his when they were kids. Damn Kirishima had to remind him.

Now in her sleek almost pristine bright crimson and white mandalorian armor, Kodai is the prime example of a mandalorian’s dream. But she’s not his.

Bakugou is the quiet one now and doesn’t respond to her. The truth, the answer, to Kodai’s questions feels so heavy even after everything that’s happened these past few days.

“You can’t deny it.” Kodai presses firmer and he knows she is right.

After all, Bakugou had ran off in front of her to you.

“I’m being relocated back to Coruscant.” You had told him two days before. “I…so I originally wasn’t suppose to be here. I had switched my first assignment location with a friend of mine and apparently the council found out. Guess it finally caught up to me.” You weakly laughed but it did nothing to lighten the awful thickness suffocating the air.

“I’m sure you’re excited that I won’t be bothering you anymore.” Even with the heavy revelation, you still had continued to tease but it was hollow as hell.

He had so many questions, wanted to say so much, needed to.

“.…yeah whatever.” But that was the only thing, the last thing, he said to you. Nothing else.

You returned to Coruscant without another word or even goodbye to him.

So Bakugou accepted that was the end. Your return back was the final sign for him to extinguish the fire roaring inside for you.

Then the damn Jedi temple gets attacked.

Bakugou, as a decorated war hero, as a mandalorian warrior, is a man forged and consecrated in victory. He scoffs at fear because he has faced it numerous times in bloodstained beskar and won. But when the data pad projected a fiery chaos erupting at the temple, pure terror consumed him. Bakugou simply moved like a man possessed. He even snarled to fight any of his comrades who dared stand in his way. He could not lose you.

So Bakuguo flew to you with no hesitation. And Yui Kodai, his intended, simply watched in silent judgment.

Now in the stillness of his home Bakugou feels the weight of this reality settling between them. He still hasn’t even answer Kodai’s question and he knows he needs to. She deserves the truth.

“Guess I can’t pin point when.” Bakugou finally admits, can’t even fully turn his helmet towards her. “Felt like maybe it was always just there. Just took me too long to catch up.”

He tried ignoring the aggravating frustration he felt towards you. He bared his teeth at it and tried to fight with his whole might. But that aggravation was simply tender adoration, a blooming love. It has always been there. You have always been there and will always be there. You are now apart of him, just as integral as his beskar armor. You might even be the strongest piece of him.

“I can’t go through with this, with us.” Bakugou tells Kodai. “I’m sorry, about all of it.”

He would take any penalties or punishments his people deem fit. He would accept ‘em with honor because for you, he’d do it all. He’d hold the weight of his love for you and bare it without waver. This whole situation is still shit though. It’s why he does mean his apology. Kodai is a good warrior, doesn’t deserve any disgrace.

She remains quiet and Bakugou fucking fidgets uncomfortable as hell under her damn composed silent stare.

“Well?” He snaps anxious at her lack of anger. “You gonna fucking yell at me? Call me a damn bastard or some other awful shit? Cause you can.”

Kodai again takes a moment and allows no words to fill his home.

“I am not going to yell at you or call you any names.” Her collected voice is chilling as it snaps his spine straight.

“We both went into this arrangement for the benefit of the other clans. I held no true affection for you and I figured you held none for me either.” Her dull direct tone slices through him sharp.

“I know many will disapprove of this. But I am not upset. I’ll hold no bitterness towards you or your Jedi. I am and always will be Mandalorian. That is all that matters.”

This is the most he’s ever heard her talk. Shit she didn’t even say this much when they got engaged. And for the first time he finally catches it - her true emotion, her quiet dignified conviction evident in her voice.

Bakugou can only nod but the underlying truth is there. She just told him ‘I was strong before you and I will be strong after you.’

Kodai moves to leave before he can even respond. Bakugou rises to see her out until Kodai’s sleek helmet whips back at him. He freezes. Won’t admit it but he is spooked when her helmet turns towards him.

“Be well Bakugou.” She bids him a simple, even kind, farewell. The door slides open and Kodai leaves with her words lingering behind her.

Bakugou sighs exhausted and thinks it rattles his bones. “Fucking hell.”

Yeah he still has so much to deal with, especially with the elders and other clans. But this with Kodai? He’s grateful it’s officially done. He’s also grateful to her. Kodai handled the situation way better than he would have and it’s why she earned his respect tenfold. Because if he saw you running off to someone else-

A wave of jealousy, so sticky and bitter, leaks into his heart at just the damn thought of a hypothetical rival and Bakugou wants to slam his bare face into a wall. This is what you have done to him - shaved him down to a lovesick man who would rip open a planet’s core for you.

With a final sigh, Bakugou heads to his bedroom. Quietly he slides past the door’s cover.

There in the comfort of his bed you continue to sleep soundly.

The medical bacta patches on your arm and shoulder are thankfully healing swiftly. Your face however still hasn’t regained its full bright energy back. He knew the medication would keep you asleep for a few days and as long as it takes, he will wait. He would wait decades for you because he already has been. But stars, he just wants you to open your eyes.

In the soft carved out space of his room, Bakugou slips off his helmet. He removes it off so easy and without reservation. It surprises him how certain he feels without it on.

The lanterns built in his room’s walls cast a gentle amber glow. As he finally stares at you without his helmet, a damn new star, a new galaxy, is born bursting right in his chest. You’re beautiful, so damn amazing, and he can’t believe he almost lost you.

Bakugou ran screaming your name into the chaos of the temple. He searched and searched without waver until he was victorious. Until there you were, lightsaber in hand landing a final swing to a trooper. Your shoulder was soaked in blood. When your face flipped towards him, your eyes wide and alive, air filled his lungs.

He doesn’t know who ran first. All that mattered was the beautiful collision of you and him meeting in the middle. His hands and your hands clutched and grasped desperate to solidify the other was real.

“What are you doing here?!” Your voice cracked as you yelled exhausted and on the edge of tears.

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. In the heat of battle, with destruction swirling, all Bakugou could do was clutch your face in his hands. You, his fierce fighter, his ridiculous shitty Jedi, were alive.

“Had to make sure you were safe.” He told you so surprisingly low in the middle of the destruction. He hoped you maybe had not hear him or the terror in him that was barely settling down now.

“You shouldn’t be here!” You instead screamed at him with more desperation and fear.

“No way! ‘m not fucking leaving!” Bakugou barked back loud. “I’m staying right here! By your side!”

His voice snapped convicted and your face fell.

Before you could yell anything back at him, Bakugou rapidly pressed his helmet covered forehead against yours.

It only took you a moment to realize what he had done. Because just as fast your hand flew to the side of his helmet. Then the pressure, the weight, of your forehead pressed back firmly against his.

A sacred kiss shared between his kind was shared between you and him right in the halls of the Jedi temple under siege.

If this was his way to a warrior’s death, then he would gladly greet it by your side protecting you ‘till the end.

Now with soft steps Bakugou leaves the memory and arrives to the side of his bed. He starts to lean his forehead down towards yours. But, he stops, swallowing back something thick. He wants to. Shit, he’s done this before with his helmet on.

But once his eyes flicker to your sleeping face, your voice suddenly chimes into his mind.

“Not yet…just be a bit more patient okay? Wait for me.”

You speak so clearly, as if you had suddenly opened your eyes, woke up, and started talking. He hears your smile, even clearly pictures the way it warmly crinkles your eyes.

Bakugou fully doesn’t believe in the force, definitely doesn’t believe in any other mystical type shit. He just believes in you.

So Bakugou slips his helmet back on. Without hesitation he presses his forehead delicate and light against the top of your head. His eyes squeeze close tight as the tears string.

For a split moment, he thinks about Kodai. He knows that even if he had gotten to know her, maybe even witnessed more of the fierce composed dignity he saw earlier, she would never be you.

You are the only one he wants to speak the sacred vows with.

That’s why he knows. Bakugou knows it will be worth it when he fully gets to experience you and you freely see him.

The next time he removes his helmet Bakugou knows it will be at the wedding ceremony when he ties his existence to yours.

“Yeah alright I’ll wait, you hear me? I’ll wait as long as you need. Just… just please, wake up soon my damn shitty Jedi.” Bakugou whispers and it is the closest thing to a prayer he will ever say.

[buggstuff]

CODYWAN WEEK DAY 1!!

Aha. I just woke up!

@codywanweek

Day 1, writing prompt: Rebel AU/Cody with a lightsaber. It also can be found here on my ao3!

    "Cody!" Obi-Wan calls out as he slips in the fight, hilt flying out of his hand. 

    Cody quickly grabs the saber and activates it, slashing the attacker quickly, then spins around and grabs Obi-Wan by his robes, holding him carefully over the edge. He brings Obi-Wan back up, slowly.

    "You really need to stop dropping this," Cody scolds, clipping the hilt onto his own belt.

    "I'm aware, but, I do need that back-"

    "I'm aware," Cody echoes, teasingly. "You'll get it back when we're done."

    Obi-Wan stifles a laugh, following Cody through the dark canyons. They walk quietly, the dirt and pebbles crunching under their boots.

    It had been 3 years. 3 years since Obi-Wan left the Jedi Order. He hadn't known how persistent Cody would be. It was quite impressive, actually, how well the trooper had hid from Obi-Wan and put up mental barriers. The only reason Obi-Wan found out Cody had followed him was because Cody let his guard down, and the rogue Jedi sensed him. Why did Obi-Wan leave?

    That was indeed a question.

    <em>"Why did you leave?" Cody prompts, voice quiet in the dark cave, lit dimly by their lantern.

    "Why did you follow me?" Obi-Wan retorts back, seeming amused.

    "Obi-Wan.."

    The older sighs and gives in.

    "The order... It wasn't for me. It had just taken too much. My family, so many of my friends, any chance of.. Well, a romantic relationship. And the last straw was..."

    Obi-Wan shudders at the memory. Of Ahsoka, facing charges for something she never would have done.

    Anakin and Obi-Wan both left the order that day. The trio kept contact, but travelled the galaxy separately.

    Obi-Wan was glad he had Cody.</em>

    Obi-Wan takes deep breaths as they walk, calming his body after the sudden attack. The breeze is gentle, a bit chilly, as you would expect in the dead of night. Three moons shine brightly in the sky, passing ships visible where they are. Creatures call out, making a natural melodic sound of the forest. The ground was dirt and pebbles, brown, meanwhile the trees had a dull, dark brown wood and round, glowing cyan spores in place of leaves. It was quite beautiful.

    It would be, if the two weren't constantly being attacked by robbers, rogue pirates and predatory animals out here.

    Obi-Wan caught Cody's blaster and began firing, the forest lighting up at the green blasts, clashing with the blue saber in such a lively way. The sounds of chaos ensued as they ran, Cody hitting anything away from the front while Obi-Wan aims back to shoot there. They were hostile animals of this planet, a 'kill-on-sight' sort of thing. A whole pack of them.

    Cody and Obi-Wan share a glance before going back to back, keeping away the predators with ease now. They moved fluidly and they moved together, fighting the animals off. Obi-Wan turns and shoots one far away that was approaching quickly, while Cody blocks off attacks on Obi-Wan's side. They spin back around and continue.

    "Cody, dear, we may not be able to win this one!" Obi-Wan shouts to his partner, it seemed like the animals didn't stop coming.

    "I gotta agree with you there!" Cody shouts back.

    The two share a nod then begin running, fast through the forest, making sure the other doesn't get left behind. Their weapons now tucked away, they moved easily between the trees and vines, dodging and weaving- The animals don't have that balance and fluidity. They eventually reach a cliff, seeing dirt and a river at the bottom.

    Obi-Wan looks at Cody.

    "Don't hate me," He says.

    "I don't think I'm able to do that."

    Cody smiles.

    Obi-Wan launches Cody up and to the side, dangling over the ravine, before he jumps down and releases the force-hold on Cody.

    They fall and fall, Obi-Wan landing safely thanks to a common force-trick, but as he rolled to land, his hands scratch on the sharp pebbles. He hisses quietly through his teeth, but quickly lifts his hands to begin catching Cody. His speed slowly declines until Obi-Wan places him on the ground. He looks unamused. 

    "I may take back my statement," Cody deadpans, swinging the saber once before deactivating it and clipping it to his belt again.

    "Oh, you would never," Obi-Wan grins.

    "Sure," Is all Cody says.

    They start walking once more, the river flowing fast next to them. Obi-Wan looks at his callused, dusty and scratched hands, then tugs his sleeves up a little. He turns direction, striding to the side of the river now. He lets out a soft exhale as the cold, almost freezing, water washes away the dirt and blood on his hands. He hears Cody's soft footsteps, then his saber igniting. He sees the blue glow and brings his hands out of the water, standing as he shakes them off.

    He turns to see Cody in an opening stance of Ataru. It was a bit sloppy, but good for someone not trained well. He takes in the form before approaching Cody, standing at a close diagonal to him, gently adjusting the form.

    "This is.. Form IV?" Cody questions, turning his head to look at the former Jedi.

    Obi-Wan smiles and nods, hands gentle as he makes minor adjustments, then gently moves Cody's head by his chin to face forward.

    He'd never forget the sight- Cody using his lightsaber, learning everything he could before the sun rose and they could peacefully continue their journey. The way the sun rose, it lit up Cody's body, making his dark skin so vibrant, his eyes sparkle, his mix of old armour and tan robes looking slightly younger than they actually were.

    He just couldn't believe Cody was truly his.

[triscribeaucollection]

History Reversed

Yet another Time Travel AU. I ought to be famous for ‘em by now, right?

---

Wolffe kept a hand close to his blaster.

He didn’t know what was going on, who the Togruta hugging his general really was, because like kriff could that actually be Tano. A couple of discrete hand signals to the troopers behind him got them to separate, spread out, just in case the need arose for stun shots. After a moment’s hesitation, he also pressed a button on his wrist comm to summon a medical squad.

The Togruta looked pretty singed, after all. And they’d scanned further lifeforms aboard the damaged ship, too. Potential mindtrick plot or not, it wouldn’t hurt to have some stretchers nearby, just in case.

And speaking of other lifeforms...

A male Human cautiously scooted down the ramp next, maybe thirty, thirty-five standard. He looked a little better dressed than the Togruta, but with even more mud caked up to his knees, and a much more wary expression on his scarred face. Wolffe could see a holster hanging from his belt - two compartments, one holding a blaster, the other a lightsaber.

“Ahsoka?” The man asked. Wolffe’s fingers twitched.

The Togruta pulled back from his general, smiling through her tears. “Ezra. This- this is Jedi Master Plo Koon. He found me, when I was little. Brought me to the Jedi Temple.”

“Wait- Wolffe’s Plo Koon?” Even as he asked, the man looked up and around, scanning the clone troopers until his gaze landed on- “Commander Wolffe?”

And the fun times just kept on rolling. Reluctant in the extreme, Wolffe reached up to tug his bucket off, and came a few steps closer. From the better angle, he could make out more of the Togruta’s facial markings, and- they did look like Tano’s. Just. Bigger. Stretched, a bit, like when a clone cadet snuck a tattoo onto their skin, only for it to distort when they kept growing and packing on more muscle. Wolffe eyed her, and then eyed the Human, arching a single brow.

The second stranger made a stunned noise. “Holy kriff, that is Wolffe.”

“Wait until you see Rex,” his companion laughed, and-

Well.

Jedi did get into all sorts of bantha-shit with the Force. He’d heard more than enough stories from brothers serving with generals far less careful than his own. Maybe, maybe, Wolffe could believe this was, somehow, an older Ahsoka Tano.

She introduced her friend as Ezra Bridger, Jedi Knight, and then the three kids who tumbled down next as Jacen, Alora, and Pypey, Padawan Learners. And after them- “This is Luke, and his daughter Jaina. She needs serious medical attention.”

A Master and Initiate. A Master, who looked haggard, and exhausted, moving slowly as if the whole galaxy had just come crashing down onto his shoulders, and the only thing keeping him moving at all was the child cradled against his chest. A child, practically a baby Jedi, who bore the wounds of a battlefield and was missing most of an entire limb. Wolffe nearly growled at the sight, double tapping the button on his comm to get the medical team to hurry the hell up.

To their credit, his men spilled into the hangar not thirty seconds later, moving at a brisk jog and not hesitating to come straight up to the group of unknown Jedi. The Ithorian kid and older Human girl were situated on one stretcher, pressed together as their blaster wounds with hastily-affixed bacta patches were looked over. Little Jaina was placed more carefully on the other, the Wolfpack’s CMO muttering furiously to himself as he checked over her worst injury.

Wolffe knew damn well what lightsaber damage looked like.

To his credit, the girl’s father managed to hold himself together after setting her down, and stayed standing through the initial examination. But the very instant the medical team wheeled his daughter and the other kids out, Ezra going with them, Luke dropped to his knees without so much as a flicker of warning.

He didn’t make a sound. Sure looked like he wanted to, though, judging by the painful mix of grief and despair on his face. Ahsoka folded herself down beside him, wrapping an arm around the man’s shoulders, and Wolffe’s general wound up kneeling as well.

“She-” Luke’s jaw spasmed trying to get the words out. “She ran- ran to Ben. Before I- I couldn’t-” A broken sob clawed its way out, and he lifted a hand to press to his face. A prosthetic hand, Wolffe noted with a flinch of surprise. No cover or synth-skin molding, just bare metal.

“Who is Ben?” General Plo asked softly.

“Luke’s padawan,” Ahsoka answered, at the same time Luke himself said, “My nephew.”

Karking hells. That didn’t sound like the start of a fun story.

[ivvmell]

Do you have any headcanons for the Jedi!clones au

One of mine is that before a big battle everyone has group meditation, which helps a lot with nerves as well as group bonding.

Also, if the clones are actually force sensitive, I think they would go to ilum for their crystals with their batch + Jedi younglings after they leave kamino. So not only are they excited for deployment but also to get their Kyler crystals.

jegi clones au! i almost forget that i have this x)

yes, wheres a banch of heds i still dont know how to make look as normal ones, but:

theres no 'force' for clones, because for em it's called 'ka'ra' (like an ashla for zeb's people)

i also think that each clone will be not the true light jedi, they are still mandos( and/or mostly traumatized guys from kamino). the question is in who the most dark

also id like to hc that design of syber's really important for clones, so rex's, for example, is similar to cody, and cody's to fox, wollfe and Alpha17s'. its like a way to show your clan or relationships in more sentimental case(also what about sybers/crystals which go to new gen? my fast carbs)

most of forcesensetive mandos(and accordingly clones) use force less as way for know future but mostly as energy drink and simple metod to boost ur strength/etc. its not bc no mandos get the predictions, but bc they are enougth stubborn to ignore it and drown out :D

but for(and rex) is one who has a lot of predictions. cody and wolffe havent even a one in all of their life

(the mandos style of syberfighting more similar to siths'. its for the lore fans)

cody isnt good of using force bc he has all chances to be the first clone who will fall. his case is codependent

(an important add) in my au clones dont from kamino, they are from mandalor and kir'tsad, and so they dont clones but ordinary kids/orphans in jedi setting. but i love the kamino clones as jedis too

i think its all i find in my notes, but i still love this au so much that, if you wanna, i could discuss about its face to face in discors, lol

[sunlightandsuffering]

Also for the pple who ARE wondering about Jedi AU!!!

I started it! It's very cute, I will give u the intro lol!!! I would love to see it, see the light of day!! :D :D

Mikasa comes to Eren at sixteen, prim and shy, but ever eager to please. Eren is twenty-one and he is not at all impressed with the assignment. 

Everyone else heralds it as an honour, what a big achievement to have your own padawan learner when he’s barely an adult himself. 

Eren on the other hand sees the ‘honour’ for what it really is: babysitting. And not just for him, but for Mikasa as well.

Because his own master had been drawn away on other assignments, missions that Eren couldn’t go on. And the Jedi Order couldn’t have their most rebellious young master running around the galaxy unsupervised. So, they’d given him Mikasa and said here, teach her. They’d successfully saddled him with more responsibility than he’d ever wanted and effectively knee-capped him from doing anything too crazy… Not that the things he did were ever really that crazy, they just weren’t so perfectly in line with the Jedi Order’s world philosophy. She’d stepped off the ship in a blaze of barely contained excitement, he could tell, even as quiet as she was that she was practically bursting with energy, but she’d been raised by the order, so what could he really expect? Orphaned at a young age and found miraculously on the burning remains of her planet, Mikasa had been taken in by a wandering Jedi and raised at the temple. 

For all intents and purposes, she was the perfect specimen, everything a Jedi should be and so not who Eren had wanted to teach. 

She’d looked up at him dutifully, waiting to be spoken to, eager to receive orders and Eren knew immediately she was going to be a problem. They were so diametrically opposed it was laughable, and he thinks the Order probably is laughing at him, payback for causing them so much trouble over the years. Eren sighs, reaching his hand out for a shake, “I’m Eren Yeager, I’ll be your new Master.” “I’m Mikasa,” she tells him sweetly, finally letting a small smile overtake her lips, “I look forward to working with you.” Oh, this was going to be a struggle of epic proportions, he can already tell.

The longer Eren spends with Mikasa, the more sure he is that the Jedi Temple moulded her to be everything he isn’t, to be his worst nightmare personified. 

Because that’s exactly what she is. 

“Well, Master I think we should follow Jedi protocol and it says to call –” “Mikasa,” He tells her warningly and she shuts up, her mouth pursing shut, she’s used to it at this point. 

This is how 90 percent of their discussions go these days. “The other masters will be mad,” she sing songs as Eren drags a dead droid away from the wreckage of the ship he’s trying to access. 

Eren sends her an unimpressed glare over his shoulder, grunting as he hefts the droid out of the way, “Yeah, well the Jedi Order can stuff it, there’s a lot of things they get mad at me about.” “Why do you insist on doing everything incorrectly? Maybe if you did things the right way like I tell you to, then you wouldn’t get in so much trouble.” “Who’s the Master here, Mikasa?” She shuts up again, huffing in irritation and Eren has to remind himself it’s him, he’s literally the master here, their very small age gap and her immense knowledge of Jedi principles blurs the line sometimes. He’s only five years older, sometimes it’s a little hard to boss her around so much, especially when to top it all off she’s almost as good of a fighter as him. He curses away to himself as he steps into the abandoned ship, because of course, he had to be paired with the most gifted Jedi of the new generation, topping even him in her midiclorian count and with the uncanny natural ability to simply kick ass. Her fighting skills are amazing, almost on par with his own, her only fatal flaw is perhaps that she’s such a rule follower. It blinds her in other aspects, makes her too trusting, too sweet. 

Something that could one day get her killed. Eren looks back sharply at the thought, his pain-in-the-ass little padawan nowhere to be found, standing guard until she’s given another order, proving his point. Eren sighs, “Mikasa get over here brat.” He hears her make a little noise of affront at being called a brat, she gets all cute when she’s huffy, like an angry kitten, and then there are footsteps as she enters the ship. She’s hurrying so fast she runs right into him and Eren grunts as her little body collides with his at full speed, but he’s quick to steady her, firmly grasping her shoulders. 

“Mika,” he chides softly, “Be careful okay, and remember to follow me okay, what if there were still enemies out there, what if something happened to you?” There’s a pretty blush staining her cheeks, but still, she protests, “I can take care of myself!” Eren quirks an eyebrow up at her, his hands rubbing softly up and down her biceps, “And what did I say about that?” Her cheeks puff up as she repeats his words back to him, “I can’t say that until I can beat you in a spar three times in a row.” “And have you?” He questions, because yeah, sometimes being her Master is a little bit fun. “No,” she grumbles out in irritation and he smirks, giving her a playful love tap to her cheek before letting her go and she gasps in response, “Eren!” 

“Master,” he corrects easily, already slipping further into the ship to investigate and now he’s really pissed her off, her usually sweet, quiet presence raging behind him. She’s stomping around the ship, showcasing her rage at being spoken down to, and Eren can’t help his smile as he inspects the engine controls, trying to grasp what exactly went wrong here. He hears something fall but doesn’t look back, engrossed in attempting to revive part of the ship, maybe he can find an old flight path if he gets it going. 

His fingers fiddle with buttons and wires, all the while Mikasa seems to be making a lot of noise behind him, a lot more noise than he thinks he’s ever heard her make before. Mikasa really is the perfect padawan, or well she probably would be for any other Jedi, intelligent, kind, brilliant fighting skills, quick on her feet, all qualities necessary in a great Jedi. 

Eren would have preferred someone more flawed, an orphan with maybe a bit more emotional damage he could counsel, someone more similar to him. Not quite such a rule follower, someone who he could really bond with, who might look up to him. 

Mikasa isn’t any of those things. Except for right now it seems as Eren turns around finally after something else goes crashing to the ground. His padawan is glaring at him from where she’d very obviously knocked something over, sweet, docile Mikasa who never allows her emotions to get the better of her is evidently, very displeased with him. 

And most interestingly, demanding his attention, even more as she stares him down, those quicksilver eyes raging, purposefully knocking something else right off the shelf next to her. She’s exactly like a cat, a displeased little creature that gets what it wants. Eren can barely repress his smile, maybe there’s still hope for him yet, some fire in those pretty silver eyes of hers. 

He’s almost giddy at the thought because maybe she’s not a completely lost cause, maybe he can still corrupt her just a little, mould her into being a truly great Jedi instead of a standard foot soldier, someone who thinks for themselves, assesses the situation and decides the next course of action instead of consulting the damn Jedi temple on everything. “Miki,” Eren hums and she perks right up at the name, it’s one she favours and something he doesn’t call her often, reserves it for special circumstances. “Are you mad at me?” “What gave you that idea?” “Miki,” he chides, beckoning her forwards and she stomps towards him angrily. 

She stops just before him, glaring up at his tall frame, evergreen locked with silver and Eren smiles, full and genuine at the cute little expression of rage on her face, eyebrows knit together in irritation. “Tell me what’s wrong?” “Master, you always dismiss me! And you rarely let me fight, even though I can. At the temple I was the best, I beat all the other kids, and I- I was so excited when I found out I’d be training under you, but you never let me show off, never let me fight.” She deflates towards the end of her monologue and Eren hums in acknowledgement, “It’s not because I don’t trust you Mikasa, I’d just rather watch you fight in more controlled environments first. It’s only been a few months, I don’t want to throw you head first into battle.” “But-” He tuts her, his hand slipping up into the tangles of her hair, pushing her bangs back behind her ears, he’s always had a fascination with that sleek pretty black hair of hers, how soft it is, how it feels under his fingertips, “Don’t worry I’m going to let you fight Mikasa, but once you can beat me three times in a row, which I know you will do.” He gives a soft little yank at one of the dark strands of her hair, “You’re a great fighter Mikasa, brilliant, especially with your lightsaber, but you fight predictably. Just like the Order teaches, the same spar you’ve done a hundred times. That’s not how real enemies fight, that’s not how I fight.” Eren smirks, his hand combing out her hair now, something Mikasa leans into, has always enjoyed the rare time he shows her affection.

“I fight dirty, and I always win. There’s a reason I’m so revered at the temple, that my missions are always successes, albeit with perhaps more damage than I’d usually like. It’s because my methods differ from the Jedi temple, and I think that’s something you need.” 

“Oh,” she murmurs softly, eyes now shut, like a cat, as he continues to finger his hands through her hair, his other one slipping up to join in the soft thick strands. She makes a little noise of contentment as he gathers the thick dark mop of her hair in his hands, leaning in as he styles it into a makeshift bun, using his own hair elastic to fasten it at the base of her head. He presses a soft kiss to her temple as he finishes, affection she’s never had, that Eren can’t help but give, something the Jedi Order frowns upon but Mikasa needs more than anything, such a touch-starved child. 

His hands skim down now, settling over her shoulders, “Do you understand now? It’s not because I don’t trust you, it’s because we’re already training Mikasa, and if I have my way you’ll be the best Jedi the order has ever seen.” “Even better than you?” She breathes curiously, her eyes soft and warm now, pliant, heather grey. He chuckles, “Of course, you’re my padawan after all, you’ll have to be better than me.” Mikasa smiles, such a full and beautiful smile, so bright he almost has to look away, “I have to train all those bad Jedi habits out of you though, I think they sent me the worst recruit they could find.” At this, she smacks him and Eren cackles, pinching her side. 

“At least I know how to cook.” Eren guffaws, “Barely!” “I’m better than you!” “Not by much.”

Sometimes, Mikasa wonders how Eren ever thought she wouldn’t fall in love with him. 

Force, how the Jedi Order had thought she wouldn’t fall in love with him? It’s like they were hoping for it. Even when she was little, she could remember hearing about the trouble-making padawan that no matter how he went against the Jedi temple rules, never had an unsuccessful mission. She had been enamoured, who was this boy, this legend in the making? And then as she’d gotten older, moved up the ranks herself, set to become a padawan, she’d seen him in action and she’d been star-struck. Only once in battle before she’d been ushered away to safety, only a glimpse, but the way his hair had stuck to his forehead, slick with sweat, blood spattering his tunic, forearms pulled taut as he held his light-saber. He’d looked like a vengeful God, and for reasons unknown to her, she hadn’t been able to get him out of her head ever since. He’d appear in her dreams, always standing over her, shirtless, saving her life, the lines of his back cut like there should be wings there. 

She’d seen him only once more before she’d become his padawan and it had only elevated him further in her mind, up high on that pedestal she could never reach, never even hope to touch. He’d been in the middle of the council, and she’d been sneakily walking by only to hear the voices of the council. And Mikasa, ever the dutiful student, hadn’t been able to help her curiosity. What she saw had been the dressing down of a lifetime as Eren stood in the middle of the council, being utterly ripped apart for his most recent mission. She’d been nodding her head along, agreeing, until Eren had finally defended himself, speaking of all the lives he’d saved. 

That had shut them up rather promptly and Eren had been smirking when she’d finally disappeared down the hall, her heart beating with far more than just the adrenaline of listening in on a top secret meeting. 

Because Eren had looked particularly handsome that day, his hair windswept against his cheeks, the long cloak the Jedi typically wore conspicuously absent to display lean muscle instead. 

And now, at sixteen, the peak age for puberty, when hormones are running high, especially in battle, the Jedi Order had thought it was a great idea to pair her off with a handsome rebellious twenty-one-year-old? It was cruel, to be honest. Everyone else she knew had older men with beards for masters, shrivelled up and half dead. And here she was with probably the best-looking boy she’d ever seen in her life, and he was around her all the time. Mikasa knew she would be a good Jedi, it was what she was born and raised for after all, she’d spent countless hours sparring, mastering her use of the force, everything to be the best she could possibly be. But lately, she finds what is thwarting her the most is the whole ‘no attachment’ part of being a Jedi. 

Because it’s becoming really hard for her not to get attached. 

Eren steps out of the bathroom, clad in only a towel, his other hand occupied in drying his long hair, water dripping down the divots of his abs. Her mouth suddenly feels very dry and he sends her a wink as she eats her soup. Yeah, it’s becoming really, really hard for her not to get attached. He disappears down the hall to his quarters and Mikasa spends ten minutes fanning herself, chanting the Jedi Code over and over again. 

No attachment, absolutely none, not allowed!

But really in hindsight how did they expect her not to fall in love? 

Eren is passionate, almost to a fault, and since she’s joined him on his missions as his padawan she’s realized that he’s particularly passionate about her safety. 

In a way, it’s kind of flattering, and in other ways, it makes her heart almost beat out of chest. 

He’s always saving her, even when she doesn’t need saving, he’s always there. And afterwards, he’s scolding her for ever being in danger in the first place, as if it isn’t part of both of their jobs. 

But it’s afterwards, that’s the part she adores the most, after the lecture and the yelling when he’s tucking her into his chest and whispering into her hair how much she scared him, that she shouldn’t go out and be so reckless. To which she always replies cheekily, “Isn’t that what you trained me to do?” He always pinches her side for that particular comment but it never gets old, being wrapped in the warmth and safety of his arms, it feels like coming home, like safety in a way the Jedi temple never has. 

“Mikasa,” Eren chastises her from the head of the ship where he’s piloting them off towards some faraway planet for their next mission, ready to shoot them into hyperdrive, “What are you doing?” He can tell she’s up to no good just by the sound of her footsteps, how she tries to soften them just slightly, her breathing clipped as she tries not to let him hear her. He spins in his chair to find her slipping out of his room and he quirks an eyebrow curiously, repeating his question, “What are you doing?” She winces as she’s found out, slumping in place. She’s cute, adorably messy all dolled up in her pyjamas, hair tucked up behind her in a messy bun that he aches to pull into a proper one. Always her damn hair. 

“I had a nightmare,” she murmurs, “I was gonna go sleep in your bed.” “C’mere,” he beckons her, his hands just itching to properly tie up that silky hair of hers and almost as soon as she’s within reach he’s dragging her to his lap, turning her around. She shuts her eyes blissfully as she leans back into him, her head tilted against his shoulder as he massages her scalp, gathering the sleek strands into a soft bun at the base of her skull, one that won’t come out so easily like hers did. “What was the nightmare about?” He murmurs as he ties it up with her pretty red ribbon. “Losing my parents.” She doesn’t miss a beat, and Eren sighs as he turns her in his lap, her hair now secured properly. “Are you scared?” She shakes her head, grey eyes tearing up, “I just miss them.” And before she can stop herself the tears are rushing down her cheeks in hot streaks, more than Eren is equipped to deal with. He sighs, rough hands coming up to wipe at her tears tenderly, “I’m not going to bed anytime soon I have to pilot us to the next planet, but why don’t you sit with me? You can keep me company.” “Okay,” she murmurs through her tears and Eren settles her in the chair next to him, piling her up high with a soft fuzzy blanket as he tucks her into the large swivel chair. “Better?” He asks and she nods, wiping the rest of her tears into the blanket and Eren smiles, his hand finding her knee to lovingly stroke, “You’ve got me now, I’m here and I’ll never leave you.” “What about,” she sniffles slightly, “What about when I become a master in my own right?” Eren chuckles, “We’ve got a few more years but even then I think I’ll keep you around Miki, you’re not so bad.” She smiles through her tears, resting her head on her knees as she looks at him, “Would you have stayed with your master if you could?” 

Eren shrugs, his hand still resting on her knee comfortingly, and Mikasa shivers as he strokes over sensitive skin not covered by her blanket, his hands so big and warm.  “Probably if I could have, but you know the council wanted me doing my own thing, cause less chaos that way, you know how it is.”

It’s quiet for a moment and Eren smiles at her softly, squeezing her knee, “But I’m happy how things turned out, I got you instead and that’s not bad at all.”

Her breath hitches and she feels like she can’t breathe, her eyes drawn towards his lips and the chiselled cut of his jaw, so brutally beautiful, the harsh angles of his face contrasted with the soft length of his eyelashes, those brilliant green eyes.

He’s stunning, and she just wants to lean across the controls and kiss him, has to grip the arms of her chair just to stop herself.

[rotzaprachim]

The thing about writing a post apocalyptic sw au (station eleven and TLOU) is that it helps anúnciate the reality that the sequel trilogy is a post apocalyptic narrative. Like, the sequel trilogy is really, really bad, and one of the places it’s so bad it becomes fascinating is in the gap between the Light Action Adventure corporatized media Pew Pew Pew series it Thinks it is with all its product tie ins and Lego sets and the knock em out balls to the walls Hopeless post apocalyptic narrative it actually is. Never is it convinced that anything in the galaxy improved or rebuilt after the return of the Jedi. Because it is not a Series Smart enough to come up with it’s own plot lines it simply regurgitates the original trilogy plot lines without the intelligence to make a nuanced commentary about intergenerational trauma or way survivors of fascism must continue to fight new forms. The sequel trilogy is a hamster wheel. The war never ended. Everything is the same. The Death Star is the same. The rebellion is now the resistance, a far more splintered, shatter shell that can fit into and out the back of a single hangars. The weapon that killed a planet now destroys a planetary system. And what gets me is the individual stories. These are the children of an apocalypse. Finn was taken from his family as a child to become the next round of stormtrooper canon fodder. Rey scrabbled for survival by physically tearing sustenance from the carcasses of a war. Poe was born during the last war and lives to see his adult live suited up into the same conflict his parents fought. Rose is a refugee of a planet destroyed like alderaan and kenari. Every one of them is born on this hamster wheel without a way off. It’s why I have a hard time reconciling rogue one and andor as existing in the same universe as the sequel trilogy, because I think RO and Andor are both so much more cuttingly brutal and so much more hopeful that what the ST provides. Finn and Rey and Rose and Poe are way some substantiation of Andor’s worst nightmares. They’re literally each living the lives Cassian and so many others died to prevent from happening.

[strscrossed]

not sure if this has been asked before but what’s ur em star wars au about?

no one ever asked so you’re good! basically it’s enemies to lovers with mikasa being a force sensitive royal (also senator) whose abilities have been hush hush thanks to some strings pulled by kiyomi so she’s privately given lessons by levi. eren meanwhile had it rough growing up and his parents were murdered so he was seduced to the dark side super young. so you got sith eren and jedi princess mikasa.

[tennessoui]

tear out my heart why don't you just because we know obikin can't be anything but together doesn't make it any less painful to listen to obiwan think about what it will be like if anakin leaves the order 😭 how many people are going to get blindsided when they realize how tied up they are with each other padme is at least one of them

yes!!! i feel like the council sorta knows something's up (they're basically only inviting obi-wan to these meetings rn just to give him shit for ~30 minutes to let off tension)

for the jedis' relationship with obi-wan and anakin, i feel like the couples counseling au is really set in a golden time where everyone is either too busy or feeling overly lenient and indulgent because the war is over and they almost lost everything. they can overlook two jedi who are incredibly tied up in knots about each other because, well. they earned it. they've done enough for the republic. let em be fucked up, sure, they can go to counseling on the Temple's dime. whatever makes them happy.

this is not really the mindset that, say, padmé would have. if she were confronted by how tangled up in each other they are. and i think she's in an interesting place in this fic (and has an interesting characterization imo) because she both is starting to really udnerstand the insanity of obikin's relationship, but she's stubborn and maybe even a bit woefully blind and wants to keep looking the other way because she truly loves anakin so much.

and that's really sad.

(but also you're 1000% correct this is a kit fic and in a kit fic, obikin can't be anything but together)

[deniigi]

Heya Matt! For your author questions thing: 1, 47 (referencing the fic for question 1), 25, 4 (referencing your favorite fic), and 15 (but specifically for Star Wars)

Heya Em!

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

Definitely "Inimitable." Or "In Technicolor". I need people to know that, regardless of what Fandom I am in, I am dead serious about my various "crack" premises and will turn them into full narratives that will make you laugh and cry chapter by chapter.

47. If [insert fic] was a pair of shoes, what kind would it be? Describe the shoes.

Inimitable would be a pair of fucked up Van's. High tops. multicolored. Shoelaces are broken and tied into knots. There is a puncture from a nail in one.

In Technicolor would be a loafer. Black and peeling because it's not actually leather.

4. What detail in [insert fic] are you really proud of?

I am really proud of how I handled the archeological dilemma of owning a family heirloom which is also an invaluable cultural object in "center stage." I think I did a fairly good job showing the tension between the academic institution, family pressures, and the memory of the once-owner of an object. I am also really in love with the cyclical story telling I did in the chapter about jedi cloaks in that story.

25. What other websites or resources do you use most often when you write?

For Star wars I use wookiepedia but for "center stage" I tend to draw on the historical recreation side of YouTube, on my own experiences as someone who uses experimental archeology as a methodology in academic work, a really good podcast called Articles of Interest, and the various debates/trials/experiences that I see my academic colleagues going through.

15. What’s your favorite AU that you’ve written?

God it's hard because "center stage" is so me, but "Inimitable" is narratively solid and inspires so much creativity. But I think "Pigeon and Crow" has a special place in my heart because it's just like. It draws on the insecurities that I have and experienced and it represents a Peter Parker who is truly existing as an ordinary person who is distant and ever tinged by loneliness and fear of ostraization. And that makes him a little silly and messy and I like how he works through that in that series. It is really poignant to me.

[violetjedisylveon]

Amnesia Chapter 14 - Change On The Way

Omega centric bad batch AU

Summary: The Bad Batch decide to move on their fresh lead. Meanwhile Omega is hanging out with her new big sister.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Hunter is extremely sleep deprived and guilty about this whole situation so he is still not making the best decisions, also sleep deprivation can cause aggression so keep that in mind

A/N: Happy New Year's Eve! Remember Cid isn't the asshole she is in canon, she's your shrewd prickly business woman aunt and she will tell you when you are being an idiot because she has no time nor patience for your bs.

Also art of Freyu's armor/Freyu pissed off

Bad Batch Amnesia AU Masterpost

________________________________________________________________________________

Cid scowled as she sat down at her desk, large claws tapping on Tech's datapad, hooked up to the holo projector.

"So you think you've found Tiny, eh?" She asked dryly.

"Yes, I believe so." Goggles said.

"Uh huh, and you think this kid, who's an entirely different species, is your kid?" She gestured to the projection.

"Yes." Goggles said again.

Dark and Moody glared at her, she rolled her eyes. That clone is extremely obsessed with this, it's making him a bigger headache than normal.

"We're going. Do you know anything about that planet or that Pantoran she's with?" He demanded rudely.

"Ask nicely and I might remember something." Cid growled.

In the corner of the room, Scomp sighed in annoyance at his brother.

"Please, I want this over already." Scomp groaned.

Cid huffed and glanced at the photos provided, Goggles had done a bit more digging and discovered they were taken on Massanii. She knew someone on that planet, but Cid liked having both her arms and they liked their privacy.

"I've heard of it, an old acquaintance settled down there, pretty nice planet. Good people there, it's the capital of its sector and never been a part of any larger galactic government." Cid said.

"Do you know who that is?" Muscles asked, pointing to the other person.

"Nope, and if I did, these are bad angles or it's been a while since I've seen 'em. Sector's known for lots of Jedi, maybe it has something to do with that." She shrugged.

"So you don't have anything useful?" Dark and Moody growled.

"I know that attitude won't get you anywhere, especially on that planet, those people are stubborn as fuck, shoving only gets you a harder shove back. Act civil." Cid warned.

"We're going to a very defensive sector filled with very defensive people who definitely don't want clones fucking around in their business, great." Scomp sighed.

Moody turned on his brother.

"Got a problem with that?" He snarled.

Scomp pinched the bridge of his nose and gave Moody an unimpressed look.

"Yes. It's a very big risk with very little chance of working out the way you want, and even if, in the infinitesimally small chance, that is Omega, why should we bother? Look at that kid and tell me she doesn't have everything she needs right there." Scomp ordered, pointing to the happy, satisfied child in the image.

"We made a promise. We won't leave her behind." Moody insisted, his hands were shaking.

"So you'll take her from something better?" Scomp challenged.

Evidently, Moody was done talking. That possibility wasn't one he was willing to confront yet.

"We leave tomorrow." Moody growled.

Scomp stared down at the younger clone, sighed, then shook his head.

"Whatever, you are the sergeant, you know best." He said with just a hint of pcondescension in his tired voice.

"What can you give us?" Moody asked, not even turning around to face her.

I hope Scomp knocks him down a few pegs. Cid thought as she rummaged through her desk for a blaster.

"I'll get what you need sorted out with Goggles, it'll cost you though." She said.

She set the blaster to stun. Moody must have been really tired if he didn't notice that.

"Your usual rate?" He asked dryly.

"Nope. Take a nap." Cid stunned the over exhausted clone before he could react.

Scomp caught him before he hit the ground. The two other clones looked mildly amused and concerned at the same time.

"I suppose it would be beneficial that he rests before a mission like this." Goggles said.

"You think?" Cid remarked.

Muscles took Moody out to rest, and Cid did her job and told Goggles almost everything she knew about Massanii. She left a few details that were far from hers to share out, they weren't too important.

Unless these boys really fucked around and find out.

XXX

Something shifted.

Freyu sensed it.

It was as if a hefty decision had been made.

Hefty decisions got made all the time, if she was sensing this one… then it had the possibility to affect her, and Omega.

The younger girl had been acting q bit off since she got back, she couldn't quite put her finger on why.

Freyu hummed to herself as she worked on her medicine orders, she had been doing better than before that imperial interrogation bullshit over a week ago. She suspected some of the locals had overheard her conversation.

Alask kept delivering her plants. Some were utterly useless for what she was trying to do and had the clear hallmarks of young, untrained hands plucking them, likely children who thought they were helping by picking random plants, but a lot of the others were useful to her in some way.

She was thankful for the help, it took the stress of foraging off her back for the moment. Tesi was handling inventory and helping process new plants, which the droid insisted was only so she could get back on training.

With the feeling she had deep in her gut, she just might have to do that. Tesi had moved her armor chest from storage in the house's former forge and into the basement so she'd see it whenever she trained. Tesi kept telling her she should start refamiliarizing herself with how it felt to fight in armor.

An armorless Mandalorian was a dead Mandalorian afterall.

She definitely would do that. Better be safe than sorry, that's why she always had a protective plate under her clothes, even at home.

Her alarm went off, Freyu finished the last steps of this particular ointment and left it to sit for a bit. Then, she left her workshop and headed upstairs to find Omega.

She grabbed a Mandalorian children's book on her way up.

"Meg'ika! It's time to read." She told her vod'ika.

Omega immediately jumped up with excitement and rushed to her side. She had been teaching the younger girl how to read Mando'a, she was a very quick learner and already had some level of understanding of the language.

"What are we reading today?" Omega asked, peering at the book.

"Ade version of How To Train Your Mythosaur." Freyu answered, showing the book to her.

"Dragon!" Omega squealed.

"Mythosaur, but close enough." Freyu shrugged.

She set the book down at the edge of the counter so Omega could read while she worked on dinner.

"What's for dinner?" Omega asked as she peered over the counter.

"Hetikleyc kai'tome(spicy food)." Freyu flashed her a grin.

"Uh… food?" Omega guessed.

"Nadala(hot)." Freyu said.

"Nadala? What's that mean again?" Omega asked.

Freyu shook her head and started prepping the ingredients.

"Hot! Hot! Nadala is hot!" Omega shouted proudly.

"Very good Meg'ika, hetikleyc comes from hettir, that's burn." She told her.

"I overheard Xillyn talking with Moshee about Celimine, Quacey, Sommyur and Vettel getting to see dragons, do you have dragons here?" Omega asked.

"Yes, Pahyyd Dragons, they're the oldest species on Massanii, and they live deep in the Mother Forests, they're very important to Massii, and they make a visit to specific dragons once they reach the age, usually groups of siblings or cousins somewhat close in age to each other go on the journey together." Freyu explained.

"Xillyn will go with Silen and Moshee, Sydel will still be too young by the time she goes." She added.

"You get to go see dragons?! That's the coolest!" Omega cheered.

"I guess it's pretty cool." Freyu shrugged as she sliced the peppers.

"Did you ever go on a dragon journey?" Omega questioned.

Freyu nearly cut the tip of her finger off, her foresight had her moving her finger out of the way just in time. She cleared her throat and avoided Omega's eagerly curious gaze.

She had gone on that journey, she had been thirteen at the time and Maatsu had gone with her, he'd never done it himself so it was a rite of passage for both of them, and a bonding experience since they really didn't know each other that well. But there were several things she couldn't tell Omega about that journey, for security reasons.

"Yes, I went with Maatsu. He hadn't done it before either… admittedly I was doing it a little early. Guess I really needed it." She said with a smile.

"Why didn't you go with Ikurrece?" Omega wondered.

Freyy jolted at the question and nearly burned her whole hand on the stove trying to balance herself.

"Xillyn told me about him, she says Cai taught him and you to hunt with birds." Omega said.

"Ah." Freyu nodded.

"Well, Ikurrece had already gone on it, so he couldn't go with me." Freyu said.

"Why did Maatsu go then? Isn't he older than both of you?"

"He hadn't gone on it, cause of the whole Jedi thing, so he could go with me." Freyu answered.

Omega opened her mouth to ask another question, Freyu held out her hand to stop her.

"Ah, no more questions, get reading." She pointed down to the still unopened book.

Omega pouted but dutifully opened the book up.

"Wer'cuy… maan… Mand'alor… olaror… Manda'yaim…(direct translation: it was long ago, first sole ruler came to Mandalore) uh… first sole ruler… came? Mandalore?" Omega read, then looked up at her uncertainly.

"Wer'cuy, it was long ago." Freyu told her.

"It was long ago, when the first sole ruler came to Mandalore!" Omega said.

Freyu ruffled her vod'ika's curly hair.

"Good job." She praised.

Omega beamed up at her.

"Mand'alor… may'eyir… dral ulik… kot… werlaara…(sole ruler found beast/animal with strength of myths)..."

It was a very calm, peaceful evening. They read some more once dinner was over then watched a few holovids after Freyu did her nightly check of the house and security systems.

Yet even as she put Omega to bed in her room, which the girl had a blast decorating and setting up with all sorts of fun things, Freyu still felt a lingering sense of unease in her gut.

She waited until she was sure Omega was asleep before she went to the basement.

The armor chest sat innocently against the wall, the intricate patterns and details that had been painstakingly applied with the utmost attention to detail and care glinted softly in the low light.

Her mom had carved and built the chest with Wroshyr wood, and her Buir(mom) had forged the armor inside. As the head of their family, clan and house, her Buir was given the task of an armorer as well. It was a bit of an older clan structure, but having the head and main protector of the family be the one to forge their armor that protected them in battle made sense.

The person who forged your armor cared about you and your survival deeply.

Buir had been quite good at it, her foresight certainly helped.

Freyu ran her fingers along the lines of a flower carved into the lid. The carvings were a mix of symbols significant to Mandalorian and Pantoran culture. She opened the armor chest.

The helmet was neatly wrapped and nestled on top of the rest of her armor, also wrapped with careful precision.

She carefully unwrapped the helmet and stared into the dark visor, her own reflection stared back at her.

Maker, sometimes she hated looking at it.

She often hated how her eyes were so much like her Buir's, though hers were "brighter, more vibrant with more contrast between the yellows and oranges." in Maatsu's words. Her mothers used to say her eyes were twin suns. Sometimes she really hated those suns.

She more closely resembled her mother in all other ways, down to what neither of her mothers hoped she would inherit.

Lucky her.

She traced the petal pattern on the helmet; the teal flowers were an iconic part of her clan's aliik(sigil).

Gently, she set the helmet aside and unpacked the rest of her armor, laying it out so she could see it all at once and remember which pieces went where.

Her family's armor style differed from the more modern design, it was more like the full body armor of the crusader days, adapted of course for maximum flexibility and protection.

It also differed from modern design in the way it was colored. Most Mandalorians now painted their armor various colors to signify their clan and allegiances, while the metal of her armor had been dyed varying shades of red while it was in the liquid phase. It was a long standing tradition in her clan.

It was one of the first things her Buir showed her how to do.

The aliik was dyed separately and welded onto the chest plate and helmet. Her gaze was inevitably drawn to the center of the aliik, a wide open two toned yellow eye with the red kar'ta(heart) as the pupil.

It was a little on the nose, but only if one knew what it meant. The last time she had checked most Mandalorians, even in the former new Mandalorian society, knew and revered the iconic aliik.

Over four thousand years of history tended to have that effect.

She took in a deep breath and armored up. She was slow this time, she'd have to practice getting it on faster, just in case.

The armor was heavy but it didn't feel like it was weighing her down, it felt oddly natural for something she hadn't worn before, and it fit her perfectly.

Buir's foresight sure was something. She chuckled to herself.

She grabbed Maatsu's lightsaber from its resting place, she looked into the empty visor one last time before pulling the helmet over her head and waking up Tesi.

The droid looked her up and down for a moment before her mouth lit up with a smile.

"Now that looks right on you." Tesi said.

Freyu couldn't stop herself from smiling or speaking.

"It feels right too."

________________________________________________________________________________

Happy New Year!

VJS Out!

[shadowmaat]

Star Wars/Old Guard AU where Jango Fett is an immortal. He didn't think it would pass on to his clones, but it did. This has its good points and bad. On the plus side all your fave clones live. On the downside there's situations like the Malevolence. Sure, all of Plo's troopers survive, but they go through indescribable agony before they're rescued so a lot of 'em are still out of commission from trauma.

Palps is of course furious: it's hard to demoralize Jedi and make them feel responsible for the deaths of their troopers when the troopers get back up. He also wants what Jango has, but while cloning seems to pass on the trait, transfusions and grafts don't. Jango may have survived Geonosis, but he's now locked in one of Palpy's labs, being tortured for fun and profit. Boba manages to escape, but instead of targeting the Jedi for revenge he's on a mission to find and rescue his father from whatever bastards took him. Maybe this time he works with the Jedi.

Would this also affect the chips? Good question.

[supersaiyanjedi14]

SABEZRA WEEK: Day 5 (Nov 18): AU/Free Day

*My AU: A morning in the life of the Wren-Bridger family*

(putting this one under the cut because it's much longer than my other entries. Appropriate, seeing as this is the last day and we might as well go out with a technicolor bang!)

“Ezra.  Come on, up and at em.”

Jedi Master Ezra Bridger groaned as he managed to wake from his slumber.  Light from the windows shone straight into his eyes, forcing him to blink a few times before getting to his senses.  Finally reaching a sitting position, he began to stretch himself awake.  At 59 standard years of age, Ezra was far from the energetic youth he had once been, the scars around his face and torso serving as mementos of what his body had endured over decades of service.  Still, age had not slowed him down to the point where even the most sarcastic padawan could denigrate him as an “old man”.  The Force did wonders for a Jedi, as he had become increasingly aware of over his career.  Breathing deeply, he allowed its currents to wash over him, filling him with awareness of every corner of the bedroom.

Finally in a state of proper alertness, Ezra turned to see a pair of beautiful brown eyes framed by green and yellow dyed locks.  The galaxy had many names for the woman beside him; Mandalore the Defender, Countess of Clan Wren, the Crusader of Krownest, the Painted Warrior.  But for Ezra, the only name that mattered was Sabine Wren-Bridger.  The years had taken a toll on her as well, but to Ezra, she was just as beautiful as she had been when he first laid eyes on her.  Even devoid of her colorful armor, Sabine commanded a figure that exhibited strength and fortitude, worthy of the finest of warriors, yet he and a select few knew the gentleness that she could just as easily embody.

“Time to get up, huh?”

“What clued you in?” Sabine replied with a light laugh, leaning over to peck her husband on the cheek.  “Frankly, I’m surprised Brycan didn’t wake you up first with all that slashing.”

Ezra rolled his eyes as he threw back the bedclothes and made his way over to the refresher.  True enough, his ears picked up the unmistakable hum of a lightsaber being swung in the courtyard below.

“After twenty years, you tend to grow numb to the noise in the morning.”

A few minutes later, the pair were cleaned and dressed for their days.  Sabine’s armor was just as vibrant as ever, the bright painted colors further supported by the purple shoulder cape and half kilt strung over her left side.  Even after she had officially stepped down as Mand’alor, passing the title to the reluctant yet worthy Din Djarin, people still regarded her by her former position.  Unsurprising given all she had accomplished during her tenure and what she had led her people through.  Even now she was still being called upon to aid the Mandalorian Union and advise its leadership.  Sabine often joked about how she was now in a perpetual state of “semi-retirement”.  For his part, Ezra was a far cry from the street rat he had once been, even beyond his prominent position on the Jedi Council.  The robes of the Jedi Order had been his choice of wardroom for a long time now, though he still stood out in his own ways.  Aside from the earthy browns, oranges and reds he preferred, what truly distinguished him was the flowing black cape that hung from his shoulders, a gift from Tristan for the wedding.  Though seemingly ostentatious for a Jedi, even the less standardized kind that had cropped up in Luke’s earliest classes of students, Ezra never flaunted this decoration, wearing it only as a symbol of the world he had joined upon marrying Sabine.  Even then, Ezra thought it made him look quite dashing, though Sabine preferred the word “dork” on occasion.

Descending the stairs, Ezra and Sabine were greeted by the smell of fresh nuna sausage wafting from the kitchen.  Seated at the counter was a young woman of fifteen years with vivid green and red hair garbed in a green tunic and black leggings.  She was pouring over a datapad in one hand while a half-eaten sausage hovered in the other.  A suitcase sat on the ground at her feet, packed and ready to go at a moment’s notice.  While Ezra and Sabine had not made much noise coming down, the girl, her Force sense every bit as potent as her father’s, perked up anyway and turned, revealing her coppery face and her mother’s eyes.

“Nice of you guys to join us.” Mazal Wren-Bridger said with mock annoyance.  She gestured to her plate.  “There’s more on the stove.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Ezra gave his daughter a light kiss on the top of her head before making his way to the food.  “Has your brother eaten yet?”

Mazal snorted.  “He’d have to leave that yard, first.”

Looking out the window, Ezra saw the source of the humming beforehand.  Beyond his lighter tanned complexion, the young man was almost the spitting image of his father, with a black buzz cut and blue eyes.  Priding himself as a Mandalorian Jedi, Brycan Wren-Bridger never went a single morning without going through his drills.  Clad only in sweatpants and an undershirt, Brycan moved his weapon with a flawless fusion of power, speed, and precision, everything one would expect from one of the most talented swordsmen of his generation.  Brycan’s feet moved just as readily as his lightsaber, transitioning from various stances and postures with the fluidity of a dancer.  He had clearly been at this for hours, a visible sheen of sweat covering his face and arms.  Ezra had a distinct feeling that if the shining blue blade came any closer to Brycan’s skin, he would hear the unmistakable sizzle of evaporating moisture.  In contrast to his master, the large domesticated Loth-wolf also out in the yard was lazily spread out on the grass, letting the rising Coruscant sun warm its steely fur.

With a final exertion, Brycan leapt into the air, threw out his leg in a powerful kick, then regained his stance to finish the sequence with an overhead chop that would have split a boulder down the middle as if it were made of flimsi.  Giving his son a moment to properly bring himself to a stop, Ezra entered the courtyard himself.  The grasses and flowers that made up the bulk of the yard reflected both Sabine’s colorful expression and the prairies Ezra had known all his life, though the real hallmark was the pair of saplings planted at either end.  One a Lothalian spine tree, the other a Mandalorian galek, both had been planted upon the re-establishment of the Galactic Alliance on Coruscant.  While Ezra and Sabine each had their preferences of residence on their respective homeworlds, these small details made the Coruscant penthouse feel that much more like home for the both of them.

Ezra reached Brycan just as he came out of his stance and reached for a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow.  Letting out a breathy laugh, Brycan clipped his deactivated lightsaber to his belt.  “So, you’re finally up and about,” he remarked, proudly displaying the sarcasm that was just as much his heritage as the Force and Resol’nare were.

“Funny,” Ezra rolled his eyes, “your sister just told us the same thing.  as well as the fact that you’re training on an empty stomach.”

“The Force gives me all I need.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I just gave all these,” he held out a small plate of sausages he and pilfered from the kitchen, “to Beskad over there?”

At the sound of his name, the Loth-wolf sprang from its prone position and patted over, attracted to the smell of grilled meat.

“Oh, no you don’t, you lazy furball!” Brycan got in the way of his pet before his breakfast could disappear.  “You know the rules” he continued as he collected the plate from Ezra, “he who does not train does not eat.”

Beskad whimpered, giving his master the same eyes he had used to score table scraps as a pup.  Mandalorian warrior discipline was no match for Loth-wolf pouting, as the family had learned quite well over the years.  Letting out a sigh, Brycan relented and tossed a link in the air.  With a snap, it vanished into Beskad’s waiting maw.

Brycan shook his head and made his way towards the house.  “So much for the mighty Lothal predator.”

“You reap what you sow, my son.” Ezra replied with amusement.  Patting Beskad on the snout, he followed Brycan back into the house, where Sabine had just finished depositing hastily-prepared fried eggs and a bowl of sliced jogan on the table.

“Thanks, Mom,” said Brycan as he sat down and started inhaling his food.  Not exactly the most comprehensive family meal, but everyone had work to get to, including three transports leaving the planet by the end of the day.  Mazal was still pouring over her datapad, absentmindedly pushing a piece of egg into her cheek.

Sabine, chuckled slightly at her daughter’s predicament.  “Mazal, that report’s not going to disappear if you look away for five minutes.”

“Captain Rekross wanted us to know the dossier inside and out before we even got on the ship.  The planet’s already got a ridiculous amount of climate factors besides the groundquakes that just happened.  Getting relief to the people planetside isn’t going to do much good if we get swept up in a storm we weren’t prepared for.”

“Well,” Brycan chimed in, “considering you have the memory of a droid, you should be able to recite that thing by heart after all the time you stare at it.”

Mazal groaned at her brother’s comment.  “Contrary to what you may think, planetary humanitarian efforts are not as simple as just swinging a lightsaber at something.”

“Simple?” asked Brycan incredulously, “You call this simple?  I’ve been practicing those techniques for months-“

“Alright, alright,” Ezra held up his hands between his children, “No need to tear up the kitchen.”

“No, no, no,” the elder sibling said with a cocky smile on his face, “I wasn’t gonna break anything.  Just help my baby sister appreciate the art of lightsaber combat more.  Help me out, Dad?  It’s been a while since we’ve had a go.”

Ezra caught Sabine shaking her head at the antics.  Freshly knighted, Ezra would have jumped at the chance to give his son the chance to hone his skills.  Not to toot his own horn, but Ezra knew he was quite the proficient swordsman himself.  Now, however, was not the time.

“Much as I’d love to show you what your old man’s still capable of,” Ezra said with a light chuckle, patting the weapons at his belt for good measure, “I’ve got a day full of meetings with the Council and I doubt they’ll appreciate one of their fellows sweating like a bantha.”

“Luke’s seen you worse.” Sabine added her own snark to the mix.

“Don’t worry, bro,” Mazal chimed in, “you’ll have time to show me your ‘special art’” she added the other with a hint of faux wonderment that caused Brycan to roll his eyes, “some other time.  Who knows?  Those pirates you’re off to hunt down might show up where I’m going.”

“yeah, I guess that’s-“

Brycan stopped.  His smile faded as he looked to the chrono on the wall.  “Karabast!” he shoved what remained of his breakfast into his mouth.  “Briefing’s at 0900, I’m gonna be late!”

“You haven’t cleaned up yet.” Sabine called after Brycan as he bolted upstairs.

“I’ll shower on the ship!”  Less than a minute after he left the room, he returned in his usual travel garb, his travel bag clanking with the additional pieces of his armor.  His eyes darted all over as he struggled to get his jacket on.  “Helmet, helmet…where’s my helmet?”

“Here!”  Mazal reached out her hand and the blue and red headgear flew from the caf table.  The helmet, adorned with Nite Owl eyes and Loth-wolf ridges, barely spent a second in her hands before she tossed it to her brother.

“Thanks, Maz.” Brycan leaned to place a light kiss on her head before giving his mother a one-armed hug.  Next he turned to Ezra.  “Oh, Dad, before I forget, the stuff for the exhibition-“

“Don’t worry,” Ezra reassured, placing his hand on Brycan’s shoulder to help him relax.  “I’ll be in a conference room with Kyle all day and your mother’s going to see Kad this week.  We’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Brycan let out a sigh of relief.  “Thanks, Dad.”  Checking the chrono once more, he wheeled around to the door.

“Be careful,” called Sabine, “And don’t fly too fast!”

“I’ll be fine, Mom!”  Brycan called back.  “Love you!”

“I better get going, too.” Mazal scraped what was uneaten into the disposal and reached for her belt and cloak.  “Ship leaves at 1100.”

“Call us once you jump to hyperspace.”  Ezra said as he collected what remained of the breakfast plates.

“Don’t worry, I will.”  Mazal reassured her parents as she finally switched off her datapad and slid it into her suitcase.  Checking to make sure her lightsaber was properly secured, Mazal hugged Sabine then Ezra.  “Say hi to Uncle Tristan for me!”

With everything squared away, Ezra and Sabine were soon out the door themselves.  Brycan was just firing up the engines for his speeder as Mazal took a moment to scratch a waiting Beskad behind the ear, her own speeder bike waiting just beyond.  Only one vehicle remained, a 4-seater adorned with a large Starbird on the hood.  Ezra started to make his way over before turning back to face his wife.

“You sure you don’t want me to drop you off at the spaceport?  I mean, we have our own ship.  It’ll save Tristan some speeder fuel.”

Sabine shook her head.  “This is a formal council for the Union.  Korkie insists there be some semblance of formality, even for an ex-Mand’alor.”

“Never thought the Mandalorians would be caught up in administrations.”

“If any other Mando heard you say that…”

“Good thing I’m only talking to this one, then.”

Sabine couldn’t help but laugh.  It was a sound Ezra regarded as one of the most wonderful in the galaxy, one that had never gotten old even after nearly fifty years together.  As Sabine’s laughter died down, Ezra took a long look at the house behind her.  The simple yet homy two story complex, the spacious courtyard with its varied plant life and the slothful Loth-wolf returning to his slumber.  He though of the building’s counterparts on Lothal and Krownest, similar in design yet more articulated to the planets in question.  Most of all, he thought of the four people who called all three of those structures home.  One of whom was standing right before him.

Sabine finally noticed Ezra’s wandering gaze.  She approached her husband.  “What is it?”

“Oh, nothing,” he said, looking into those warm brown eyes.  “Just thinking about how I’m probably the luckiest guy in the galaxy.”

Sabine smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck and gazing into his deep blues.

“Funny.  I was about to say I was the luckiest girl in the galaxy.”

“Not bad for a Loth-rat, huh?”

Sabine didn’t answer.  She didn’t need to.  From the deep kiss she gave him, right there on that beautiful sun-lit platform, even without the Force whispering in his ear, Ezra knew exactly what she was thinking.

[oh-three]

Ahsoka Ep2:

Oooh, meditation.

thank fucking god, she's alive.

Can Ahsoka sense Sabine's dreams????

"You've done enough." Is that an insult or because she's injured? Probably both tbh.

Ahhhhhhh, Ahsoka's got psychometry. Should've known.

Lmaooo, that droid tried too hard. Jedi are smarter than that.

tech!Sabine

Talk about things happening last second.

Also, Corellia? Lmao. (Ifkyk).

"You're both difficult." That's the Disaster Lineage for you.

Morgan gives off such ominous vibes. But that's an evil Nightsister for you.

Okay, the expanded map looks pretty sick, lets be honest here.

"Banished."

Baylan putting faith in an Inquisitor is so memeable after how easy we've seen 'em die in the past.

GREAT QUESTION.

Nice clouds, Corellia.

Who plays Weaver?

Speaking of ex-Imps, are we gonna see Kallus at all??? Please?

Hera giving off mom-vibes trying to convince Ahsoka to take Sabine back as her apprentice.

"Your lightsaber"????????????????? I agree with Sabine.

Sabine, she does want you back. She just doesn't know how to say it, especially now you've gotten hurt.

Omg, the way Huyang holds out the ligthsaber and Sabine takes it. It's Wrong Jedi, but she agreed AU. Except it's Sabine.

"Classified." Lmao. Fuck this dude.

HA. GET RATTED OUT BY THE PROTOCOL DROID.

"For the Empire!" Yeah, these dudes were not subtle at all.

Marrok! What's up?

He's got moves.

CHOPPER!!!!!!!!

The characterization is amazing all around so far.

Omg, if you pay attention, you can hear Chopper talking.

Yay, Marrok didn't die. He deserves an award for that.

Sabine, you're gonna regret getting back up so soon.

THE ARMOR IS BACK.

THE NOSTALGIA

The Kanan parallel

"I'm ready." Yeah, that's it, they're back.

Hey, now we're actually overlapping with Rebels.

Oooh, the camera craft here, god, I love it. The way we got to see the ship fly away without the camera moving.

Yeah, Baylan, you should be troubled by Ahsoka.

Nothing can prevent their journey, sure, but nothing can prevent Ahsoka from coming after them, either.