#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.

[sunsailsandmoonwalks]

i want to write but corporate world says NO

[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 .

[archivewriter1ont]

Unveiling the Saved at the Citadel: Fives Lives And Joins the Batch AU

I have been working on this in my brain for a WHILE and I'm so happy to finally share it! The plan is to begin posting a few fics in this AU during May (following the Months of the Bad Batch, Fives May, as that would be 5555-05).

There are many, many, many details I can't wait to explore in some more in-depth writing but here is the bullet-pointed gist of the AU ⬇️⬇️

Intro to the Saved at the Citadel AU

Instead of the heartbreaking mess that was the ending of the Citadel arc, we see the welcome arrival of Rex and Company's unexpected rescuers -- the Bad Batch! Clone Force 99 was on a separate mission in nearby space and received a broken-up distress call from the party on Lola Sayu. The batchers realize that it's Big Brother Cody and some dude named Rex, Big Bro's other favorite brother, and show up with a shock-and-awe response that would make the trigger-happy Alpha-17 beam with pride.

Echo is not presumed dead at the Citadel or taken to Skakko and Fives does not have his chip arc or die.

The Domino ARC Twins and Rex are sent immediately on a different mission with the Batchers, destination unknown, after a specific target. During the assignment, Rex comes to respect the Batchers just as he did in their TCW arc, and the Dominos find themselves becoming attached to these four defects who are simultaneously rough around the edges and extremely welcoming.

After everything is said and done, Echo and Fives decide to transfer to the Bad Batch. Rex lets them go, just as he did with Echo in Unfinished Business, and continues to check in regularly.

The newly expanded Bad Batch goes on a variety of exciting adventures as a six-man squad, becoming an even more deadly machine as the twins integrate into their new family. On a return trip to Kamino, Tech comes across some strange rumors of a clone who lost it on the battlefield and was transferred back to their home planet for evaluation. Fives volunteers to snoop around with the genius once they get planet side, and that's how the Batch finds out about the inhibitor chips.

While Tech and Fives are rescuing Tup and gathering evidence to take before the Jedi and the Senate regarding the chips (because while the Batch may be wary, the twins know a few Jedi and politicians who will not be happy about this info) Hunter and the others are trying to cover for them...and stumble across a blonde-haired little lab assistant who calls them by their names.

With Tup and Omega in tow, the Batch heads to Coruscant to inform the Jedi and confront the Senate. Secrets are revealed, from the origins of the Clone Wars to Anidala to the existence of a Second Sith, and new allies must be found, made, or blackmailed to uncover the entire, widespread plot to overthrow the Republic.

The Batch calls up all their favors and old contacts, including Fox, Quinlan, and even a certain lady pirate that Tech and Echo accidentally met on a recent undercover mission (and a rather annoying Weequay they wish they didn't know at all) to help pull off the counter-overthrow.

The Jedi gladly go along with the scheme and confront the Senate. In the madness, Hunter ends up just a little too close to the Chancellor and...

Hunter: "Cody...is the Chancellor a Jedi?" Cody: "No." Hunter: "Ok then he's the Sith." Cody: "What?" Hunter: "Unless the Jedi just give out those laser swords like party favors." Obi-Wan: "How exactly do you know that he has one?" Hunter: "Felt it. All your sabers give off a weird EM pulse. They're different flavors but they all make me want to sneeze."

Now all the Jedi are royally pissed -- 1. that they didn't see this before and 2. that all the suffering brought by the war has happened due to Palpatine's greed. It doesn't take very long for every available Jedi in the system to converge at the Temple to help take down the Chancellor.

But they end up just being the decoy squad. As Mace Windu and Yoda cause a distraction by confronting Palps directly, sabers drawn, Crosshair uses a slugthrower to snipe the Chancellor through a window. He wishes he could undo this as he is forevermore dubbed by Fives "The Mighty SithSlayer."

The Jedi hide the Batch in the Temple for a few days until they can set the record straight to the public, giving the six saviors of the Galaxy plenty of time to rest after their crazy saving-the-universe ordeal and play with the younglings who are ecstatic to meet real-life heroes. This also gives Tech and Echo time to go over the records from Kamino and find the location of a certain Mount Tantiss, where a certain Hemlock was centralizing medical equipment and personnel for Project Necromancer and other unsavory programs.

Phee decides that after all the ruckus on Coruscant, Tech needs an extended vacation on this really nice, beachy planet she knows about. She graciously allows the other five to tag along with their newly discovered baby (older?) sister.

Tantiss is taken over by the GAR, with CF99 spearheading the operation as the special forces group. Emerie is brought over to the good guys, and she, Tech, and a myriad of scientists from across the stars use the on-world base to house their genetic research operation. Within months, after dedicated research and help from Nala Se, who was given a generous plea deal in return for her assistance, every clone trooper is given the gene therapy required to halt their accelerated aging.

Everyone lives happily ever after on Pabu and elsewhere, including Mayday. Fives becomes the island storyteller and immortalizes the Batch escapades through that.

I have so many fics I want to write for this AU it would boggle your mind. Seriously...it is not even funny.

[mcrdvcks]

okay okay abigal just listen, what about au!star wars with logan?????!!!!!! He is more like Rebel, Jedi, Sith or Mandalorian? what u think?????

okay, i went a little bit off-script, but hopefully this is okay i wrote it in like 30 minutes! <3

In my opinion, Logan would be a rebel. He’s basically Han Solo’s twin. He’s the hero that was only there for the money but stayed (for a pretty girl).

Let’s be real, no matter how much Logan tries to argue that he’s “not a hero” he does the opposite, proving he is a hero.

He doesn’t have a copilot, he’s a loner who smuggles—has probably run into Han before.

For this, let’s just say you and Leia are close. Maybe you grew up together on Alderann. So, you met Han, Chewie, and Luke when they rescued you from the Death Star.

After Luke blew up the Death Star, you and Leia are trying to arrange safe passage for a small group of refugees fleeing an occupied system. Your usual contact bails. Logan shows up in his beat-up freighter—smoking, scowling, and swearing under his breath as he looks you over.

“I’m not part of your damn Rebellion,” he mutters. “Just here for the credits.”

But something shifts when you glare at him and reply, “Then take your money and go. We’ll find someone with a soul.”

He doesn’t leave.

Him and Han don’t get along very well, again, they’re practically the same person. Han taunts and teases Leia, Logan you.

Luke gets tired of the arguing during meal time, hearing Han arguing with Leia, and Logan arguing with you makes him want to willingly spend time with Threepio.

Missions are the worst—the 5 of you stuck in a ship with Artoo and Threepio is always a disaster.

The worst part? There are only 4 seats in the cockpit, and Han and Chewie are always in the pilot and co-pilot’s seats. That means you, Luke, Leia, and Logan have to argue about who gets the two seats.

You and Leia argue you both should get the seats since you’re the only women. Luke usually shrinks and offers to stand. Logan? Crosses his arms, grunts, and refuses to budge. “You got legs, sweetheart. Use ‘em.”

You threaten to shove him out the airlock at least once a day. He starts bringing random crap into the cockpit just to take up space—like his boots, a cigar, or his coat—claiming “this seat’s taken.” Leia rolls her eyes. You plot his slow, dramatic death.

But then on longer flights, when you fall asleep in the back, you always wake up with his coat draped over you. He grunts and claims “Chewie did it.”

He says he’s only in it for the money, but he’s always volunteering for the dangerous missions.

Han tries to call him out: “You’re worse than me, old man.” Logan replies, “Least I don’t run when things get messy.”

Logan has zero patience for droids. Artoo shocks him at least twice.

He teaches you how to fight dirty. “No such thing as a fair fight in a war, darlin’.”

When someone questions Leia’s leadership, Logan is the first one to growl, “you got a problem with a woman in charge?”

He never salutes, never calls anyone “sir,” and never follows protocol—Luke finds it endlessly stressful.

The only person he half-respects is Chewbacca. They grunt at each other across the ship like war veterans.

You’re the only one who can get him to actually do anything without arguing first—but only if you call him out in front of everyone.

He has his own sleeping bunk but is rarely in it—he falls asleep in cargo holds, under tables, or sitting upright in the cockpit.

Hates flying. Claims he likes his feet on solid ground. Will gripe the entire time during takeoff.

Has a scar across his knuckles from punching a stormtrooper helmet clean off—didn’t even flinch.

Calls the Force “hocus pocus” and Jedi “laser stick weirdos”—until he sees Luke nearly die and then helps carry him back, muttering “kid’s got guts.”

Has killed at least three bounty hunters who came looking for him—on the same day.

Refuses to wear a Rebel uniform. Only ever wears his beat-up leather jacket, black shirt, and whatever boots he didn’t lose in the last skirmish.

You’re the only one allowed to patch him up. If anyone else even tries, he growls and walks off still bleeding.

One time a rookie pilot asked if he was your bodyguard. He cracked his neck and said, “Nah. She’s mine to protect.”

When you’re cold on outer rim nights, he doesn’t offer his jacket. He just mutters, “Get over here,” and opens his arms. You roll your eyes. But you always go.

If a mission goes wrong and you’re separated, Logan always finds you. “How?” you ask once. “I can smell you. You use too much soap.”

Hates being thanked. “Don’t get soft on me, sweetheart. Makes me itchy.”

The first time you kissed, it was after an explosion. You were yelling at him for being reckless. He grabbed your face and kissed you mid-rant. “Shut up before I start liking your voice too much,” he growled.

Refuses to use comms unless absolutely necessary. When he does use them, it’s to say something like, “I’m out. Five bodies. You good, sweetheart?”

Keeps a holopicture of you—one Han took while you were laughing and flipping Logan off. He pretends it’s not in his locker, but Chewie saw.

You once caught him fixing something on your blaster in secret. He denied it. “Must’ve been the maintenance droids.” “It was set to stun, Logan.” “Yeah. Can’t have that.”

Has a special, terrifying growl reserved only for when someone tries to flirt with you. One poor rebel tech is still recovering from the death glare Logan gave him for calling you “gorgeous.”

[solo-walker]

So, Anakin mowing down the younglings is pretty well known atp, but I randomly wondered... was it absolutely necessary to do that?? Could you not simply re-educate the young Jedi, create your own messed up little army of darkside force-wielding children?

Born from a joke during a conversation with @pjo-tvs-version, here's a star wars crack AU, laughingly dubbed...

SITH SCHOOL AU

Anakin doesn't kill the younglings, and doesn't go to Mustafar. Instead, he stays behind on Coruscant to establish a new institution, a.k.a the titular 'Sith School'. Pulpy Palpatine thinks it'll be a good idea to fortify the place and start brainwashing teaching the younglings ASAP. Catch 'em young, as they say.

Obi-Wan catches wind of the turn of affairs and, still reeling from the shock of it all, decides to not confront Anakin/Vader. He informs Padmé of what has happened and stops her from trying to go find Anakin. They leave Coruscant as fast as possible to find a safe place to regroup with the survivors, bide their time and decide upon their next move.

Flash forward a few years, Padmé is now one of the leaders of the Rebellion and raising her twin children along with 'Uncle Obi-Wan'. Anakin/Vader is running the 'Sith School' along with Palpatine while keeping an iron grip on the state of affairs. The Rebellion clashes with the Empire and he manages to sense that his kid (I'm going with the headcanon that he can only sense Luke) is alive somewhere, presumably with Padmé. How wonderfully convenient would it be, he thinks, if he could bring his kid to the Sith School!

He decides to contact Padmé while Pulpy looks on this development with growing alarm and starts to play Mind Games^TM again. Not only will this throw a potential spanner in his plans, but may also disrupt the regimented manipulation of the minds of the students of the Sith School!

Anyway, so Vader holocalls Padmé who is desperately trying to control two powerful force-wielding toddlers and is understandably furious like

"HOW DARE YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO PROPOSE THIS YOU PIECE OF BANTHA-"

"Padmé, listen to me, this is about our child's education-"

"Correction: Children. And trust me, you wouldn't last a day with them." *cuts the holocall*

Vader is miffed, distracted and shocked ("Children?? PLURAL???") while Palpatine is losing his mind in the background.

[hazbinhotei]

restless. – an alastor x gn!reader star wars au.

warnings: nothing but a very inaccurate star wars universe

word count: 2288

summary: Intrigued by the tales of a lone Force user unbound by Jedi or Sith teachings, Sith Alastor simply can't resist the challenge of unraveling your mystery.

sith!alastor x gray jedi gn!reader. let me preface this entire scenario by saying i have completely no knowledge of star wars minus the very, very surface level information i researched online to write this self-indulgent story. but fran, gray jedis aren't lore accurate!—yes, but alas, i don't care. i've just been itching to bridge together my reoccuring thoughts of adam driver kylo ren edits with our favorite charming radio host. please and thank you.

The whispers began like all rumors do—hushed voices in dimly lit cantinas, exchanged between sips of luminescent drinks and the clink of credit sticks. A Gray Jedi, they said. Someone who neither bent to the will of the Jedi Order nor surrendered to the darkness of the Sith. A ghost, a myth, a power too great and too indifferent to be real.

Alastor found the concept utterly captivating.

His sharp teeth glinted as he grinned, sipping at a drink he had no real intention of finishing. The Empire had little patience for fairy tales, but he was able to convince them otherwise. A powerful Force user outside their grasp? That was a threat!, or so he claimed.

In truth, Alastor didn’t care if this Gray Jedi posed a danger. He simply had to see for himself. If they existed, oh, what fun he would have! And if not, well, he could always create a bit of chaos before leaving.

The planet his findings led him to was Kordanis—a rather dull, dusty world with jagged cliffs and markets stuffed between towering rock formations, illuminated by neon signs struggling to outshine the twin moons. It reeked of desperate traders and cutthroats who made their fortunes on the fringes of war. Alastor had sauntered through the crowded streets after his ship landed, his crimson eyes gleaming as he found a significantly crowded bar with several particularly interesting groups of bounty hunters littering the tables and counters of the establishment.

And so here he was, drink in hand, waiting patiently with his upturned ears until he heard it: the first mumblings of your existence since his arrival on Kordanis.

“You didn’t hear? Some old man swears he saw ‘em,” a Rodian murmured to his companion, voice low but not low enough. “Out past the dunes, where no one goes. Says they just… exist out there. Not helpin’, not hurtin’. Just livin’.”

“Sounds like nonsense,” the other—a human—scoffed, but there was a tremor of unease in his tone nonetheless.

Alastor’s smile widened. Oh, how he loved an audience.

With a snap of his fingers, the lights in the cantina flickered, and an unnatural hush fell over the crowd. The temperature seemed to drop, a shadow stretching unnaturally long behind him. He tilted his head, stepping forward, savoring the way the Rodian’s breath hitched.

“Well, well, well! Isn’t that just fascinating!” Alastor practically sang, his voice honeyed with mock intrigue. “A Gray Jedi, you say? Living a quiet, little life? How absolutely… pitiful.” His grin sharpened. “Tell me more.”

The bartender of the establishment, a green-skinned Twi’lek, interrupted before the two bounty hunters could reply, grunting at Alastor. He placed the mug he was drying down on the counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “This planet’s neutral space, Sith. Take your war somewhere else.”

Alastor sighed dramatically, shoulders slumping. "Oh, how utterly boring," he lamented, rolling his eyes. "I was hoping for a bit of hospitality. Alas! If words won’t do, perhaps a little… persuasion?"

With a flick of his wrist, the air itself seemed to tremble. The lights dimmed further, an eerie pressure filling the room. Glasses rattled against the bartop, and a faint whisper, something just at the edge of hearing, slithered through the minds of the patrons. It was not words, not exactly—just the sensation of something watching from the shadows, ready to pounce at any second.

The bartender’s jaw tightened, but his bravado wavered. “Fine,” he muttered. “But don’t bring trouble back here.”

The two hunters, now thoroughly unsettled, swallowed thickly as Alastor turned his gaze back to them. "Now then! If you fine gentlemen don’t mind, once more, from the top," he said, his grin stretching wide once more. "Tell me everything."

One of them, the Rodian’s human companion, licked his lips hesitantly. "We've… we've seen signs. Supplies vanishing from traders' routes, strange footprints near the mountains. Some say they hear whispers in the wind, but no one's actually seen 'em."

Alastor scoffed, tapping a sharp nail against the bar. "Oh dear, a ghost story? How absolutely riveting!” His voice was thick with sarcasm, his tone sickeningly condescending as he rolled his eyes. “What makes you think this little Gray Jedi exists?”

The Rodian shifted uncomfortably, glancing at his companion before replying. “I-I never said they were Jedi! Just… something else. Something powerful.”

The human, more gruff but equally wary, grunted. “Yeah, we’ve never seen ‘em, but we aren’t necessarily the kind of folks who go out searching for a guaranteed death wish. We’ve seen dozens of creatures go after ‘em, but no one’s ever caught ‘em in the act…”

The Rodian finished his buddy’s sentence, nodding his head eagerly to try and avoid Alastor’s wrath just in case he decided their information wasn’t worthy of his time. “People always disappear when they go looking.”

Alastor scoffed, amusement dancing in his gaze. “Oh, how mysterious!” He leaned in, flashing a toothy grin. “And where, my good gentlemen, do these unfortunate seekers vanish?”

The Rodian from before, still looking shaken, spoke up. "There’s a desolate mountain range to the north. Difficult to navigate. That’s where the sightings lead."

Alastor hummed in thought, intrigued. "Now that is interesting. A puzzle wrapped in isolation…”—Alastor paused for a second, gazing over the two bounty hunters before replying dismissively—”You two seem smarter than you look."

Without so much as a thank-you, he spun on his heel, striding toward the exit. The patrons exhaled in relief as the shadows lining the walls vanished, slipping back under Alastor’s long red cape, though no one dared to move until he was fully gone.

You stirred the stew slowly with a wooden spoon, watching as it bubbled. The aroma of simmering herbs filled your modest home, the only sounds being the quiet crackle of the fire and the occasional whistle of the wind outside. Life was simple here. You preferred it that way.

You had heard the stories of the Jedi and the Sith. Of empires rising and falling, of heroes and tyrants waging wars in the name of balance and power. But you had never cared for any of it. The Force was a tool, nothing more. It did not demand your loyalty, nor did it shape your destiny. You existed beyond the petty squabbles of the galaxy, and you intended to keep it that way. 

Just as you were about to stop stirring, you felt him. You felt him before any of your other senses were alerted to his presence—a shift in the air, a singular drop of grain in the Force making you pause.

You did not turn immediately. Instead, you reached with your free hand for a ladle hanging on the kitchen rack above you, dipping it in the broth and lifting it to your mouth for a taste. Still a bit longer, you hummed to yourself as the flames under the cooking stew flickered.

The wind outside had changed. 

Someone was here. 

Someone powerful. 

You exhaled through your nose, setting the ladle aside on the counter. “Knocking is customary,” you said, your voice calm, even as your grip tightened slightly around the wooden spoon.

There was no response for a beat, until laughter echoed around your home. A rich, unsettling chuckle that seemed to dance through the air. Then, a voice, far too joyous for the circumstances:

“My, my! You are a hard one to find indeed!”

You turned. And there he was—tall, dressed in dark red robes that clashed with the night. His yellow smile was too wide, his blood red eyes too bright. He did not carry himself like other Sith. He was not weighed down by anger, nor was he wrapped in the suffocating rigidity of the Jedi. No, he was something else entirely. Something that only craved control.

“Alastor,” he introduced himself with a grandiose bow, as if this were some cordial affair. “A pleasure to meet you, truly!”

You did not return the sentiment, pursing your lips slightly at the intruder in your home. “You’re Sith.”

“Oh, let’s not put labels on things so soon! I’ve come such a long way, after all.” He took a step closer, hands behind his back, his voice laced with something almost playful as he observed you. “You’re quite the elusive one! And my, my, what rumors they tell. A being completely one with the Force, all alone in the wastelands, wielding great power yet doing absolutely… nothing with it! What an interesting tale.”

You met his gaze, unshaken. “And?”

His grin did not waver, but there was something sharp beneath it now. “And… I simply had to see it for myself.”

The fire flickered, casting long shadows across the walls. Outside, the wind howled, as if the very planet was holding its breath. You studied him, this Sith who did not act like a Sith. His energy crackled in the Force—wild, erratic, almost musical in its chaos. It was clear he was not here for conquest, not here for a fight. He was here because he was curious. Because he wanted to see what happened next.

And perhaps, so did you.

Alastor hummed, taking in the space around him with an exaggerated tilt of his head. “I must say, I was expecting… well, more. A fortress, perhaps? A hidden temple? Not a humble little kitchen.” His eyes flickered to the pot. “Ah, but what is this? Stew? Surely not what a being of your power concerns themselves with.”

You turn to face the stove once more, stirring the pot absently. “I eat. It keeps me alive.”

He watched as you turned your back to him, his grin practically taking the entirety of his lower face as he narrowed his eyes to watch your silhouette. You were so disinterested, so bored, it made his mind light up with pure fascination. “Ah, a pragmatic answer! But tell me, truly—do you not find it dull? The quiet? The solitude? All that power, and yet here you are, toiling over dinner.”

You met his gaze as you glanced behind, your voice flat. “I guess that means you’re not here to try my stew.”

Laughter bubbled from him, a melodic, almost manic sound. “Oh! I do like you! So astute! No, no, I’m afraid my palate requires a different sort of indulgence.” He leaned forward, his red eyes glinting. “You know, don’t you? That I bear no true malice.”

“I know.”

He paused, momentarily intrigued by your certainty. “And yet, you still fail to grasp my purpose here.”

You sighed, setting the spoon down to face him once more. “I don’t concern myself with politics. You’re here out of curiosity, I know that much. But I don’t know why someone like you would waste your time trying to find someone like me.”

Alastor placed a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “Oh, but curiosity is reason enough! You are the only one of your kind! A force user, a Gray Jedi, powerful enough to remain untouched by both light and dark. And yet you do… nothing with it?”

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head. “You speak as though power is a thing that demands to be used.”

“Doesn’t it?” He tilted his head. “Every wielder of the Force I have encountered has sought something. Purpose. Power. Control. Even the Jedi, in their self-righteousness, are bound by their own dogma. But you…” He leaned in, eyes gleaming. “You are indifferent. You’re practically a blank slate, my dear.”

(You didn't feel the need to explain to him that your lack of interest in seeking something higher wasn’t born from indifference, but rather from isolation—from being seen not as a person, but as something irreverently powerful. A force to be studied, feared, or sought after, never simply understood.)

You regarded him for a moment before replying, raising a brow hesitantly at him. “Indifference isn’t a lack of power.”

Alastor let that thought settle, a slow, appreciative chuckle slipping past his lips. “No, I suppose it isn’t. Perhaps that is what makes you so dangerous. Or…” He leaned in close, his red eyes glowing as he stared intensely into your own. You bristled slightly, feeling him trying to read your mind, yet you unsurprisingly didn’t budge, “so restless.”

He pulled away, his grin never fading. “Ah, but I shan’t overstay my welcome! I have what I came for.”

Your already raised brow lifted even more, frowning as you crossed your arms defensively. “And what’s that?”

“Why, the answer to my question, of course! You are exactly as they say—a force of your own, untethered, unshaken.” He took a dramatic step backward, offering another bow. “Delightful! Simply delightful.”

You watched him, unmoved. “You’re leaving, then?”

“For now!” His laughter echoed once more, rich and theatrical. “But I do hope you don’t mind a repeat visit. I have a feeling you’re quite good company!”

And with that, he was gone, slipping into the night like a specter, leaving nothing behind but the lingering echo of his amusement and the faintest whisper of something else. Something you couldn’t quite name.

You repeated the word he used to describe you in your head: Restless. Were you restless? You hadn't thought of it before, simply living day to day with the mundane tasks you conjured up for yourself. The closest thing to excitement was fending off the occasional hunter foolish enough to track you down—that is, until Alastor showed up.

You slowly turned back to your stew, watching as the flames returned to their usual flicker once Alastor's presence fully left your premises. You watched the bubbles rise and pop quietly, your stomach churning in worried confusion. You sighed deeply to yourself: what did you just get yourself into?

[ragnarlothcat]

Some intriguing choices here but I think I'll go with I Got It Bad?

Ooh so this is my omegaverse noir AU where alpha Obi-Wan is a jaded private eye and retired Jedi (which are like the space cops here) who gets hired by omega Anakin, the beautiful and mysterious trophy husband of Senator Palpatine.

Several things have happened so far, mostly Obi-Wan being immediately in love with this random omega he met like a day ago, but also plot which I will spoil beneath the cut.

Okay, so Palpatine was found murdered last chapter and Anakin was obviously questioned by the Jedi (Mace and Quinlan) and now Obi-Wan and Quinlan are searching Palpatine's house for clues while Anakin is off identifying the body.

Also, Ventress is head of Palpatine's personal security.

---

Quinlan watches as Ventress turns the corner out of sight, her heels still clicking a Lindy Hop across the hardwood.

“What a dame,” Quinlan says, an appreciative gleam in his eyes. “Do you think she’d step on me if I asked?”

“For fuck’s sake, Quinlan.” Obi-Wan scolds. “Do try and show some class.”

“Oh, so I'm being uncouth, but you’re allowed to spend the afternoon sniffing the young widow’s bedlinens?”

“I wasn’t—”

“Why are you still here anyway?” Quinlan interrupts. “Your client was murdered. Nice job with that, by the way.”

“Anakin is my client. And I serve at his pleasure.”

Quinlan snorts. “You wish.”

Obi-Wan really ought to start bringing his flask bourbon with him at all times. “Did you find anything interesting in Palpatine’s files?”

“Nothing I’d share with a civilian,” Quinlan says, as though he’s ever followed the rules a day in his life. “How about you?”

Not yet, since his intense search of Anakin’s bedroom yielded mostly sexual frustration and unhelpful sympathy for the poor boy. “Nothing I’d share with a Jedi,” he says snottily.

“Very mature. Also: a crime.”

“Quinlan, be reasonable,” Obi-Wan tries, despite knowing he’s asking the impossible. “I am fully within my rights to look through Senator Palpatine’s possessions—”

“You asked him, did you? Was this before or after he got choked out on your watch?”

“—as they aren’t his possessions any more. All Palpatine’s files would have passed to his husband upon his death. Anakin, the new master of the house, has asked me to find his former husband’s murderer, and has afforded me every liberty to do so.”

“Come off it,” Quinlan scoffs. “I don’t care what liberties your extremely recently widowed boyfriend has allowed. Your affairs are, well, your—”

“There hasn’t been anything like that.”

“—but you know perfectly well that this poking and prying isn’t how crime scenes work. If you wanted unfettered access to a dead man’s files and husband, maybe you shouldn’t have quit the Jedi.”

If Obi-Wan was still been a Jedi, he knows what he’d be expected to do now. Comb through Palpatine’s business dealings, interrogate his friends and family and, of course, treat the terrified, grieving young widow with a cool, professional detachment. It’s what he had to force himself to endure after Qui-Gon. After Satine.

There’s a reason Obi-Wan left the Jedi, after all.

Obi-Wan tightens his jaw against the flood of memories. “Fine, waste my time.” It hardly matters if Quinlan won’t share his find. Obi-Wan plans on examining Palpatine’s papers himself as soon as he’s on his own. “But I will remind you that in the end, we both want the same thing.”

“Hardly.” Quinlan slips his notepad into his breast pocket. “I want to solve this murder and be home by dinner. You, however, want to tear that dishonest little omega right out of his mourning clothes before his husband’s body has even cooled.”

“Anakin isn’t dishonest,” Obi-Wan objects, banishing thoughts of Anakin either in or out of his pretty black ensemble from his mind.

“Hey, I don’t judge. You know I like ‘em with a little fire myself. Just—” Quinlan pauses and sighs heavily. “Be careful, all right?”

“I told you, Anakin hired me—”

“I know, I know, you showed up at pretty boy’s mansion at the crack of dawn for purely altruistic reasons. But that’s not exactly what I meant.” Quinlan’s hand goes to his pants pocket this time and he pulls out a small scrap of flimsi. “Okay. I’m telling you this only because you are—or were, at least—my friend.”

“I still consider you a friend, Quinlan, it’s the Jedi that—”

“And because I think you’re going to find it out, with or without me.” Quinlan steps closer, presses the flimsi into Obi-Wan’s palm. “I found this slipped between two pages. It could be nothing, but I thought you ought to know.”

Obi-Wan looks down and clutched loose in his hand, he sees a comm number scribbled in flowing, heavy handwriting and beneath it:

If more needed, call Mr. Opress

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

Making a separate post for the Tahny pin up!

Text Reads: Catch 'Em With Their Pants Down

Tahny would have no idea this was out there Some random Jedi general snuck a recording of The Crown's opening floor show to his battalion and they became smitten with the young brothel madam.

In the Young and Stupid AU Crosshair would see this and have a karken conniption fit.

From @vimse 's art tag challenge suggestion thing.

[allianettemie5]

Random PR1 Headcanons/Ideas Pt. 10

Master Post

A.k.a. The Musical Episode

AppleBurger

Lucky by Jason Mraz & Colbie Caillat

(Set in the 1990s, because it's my favourite time period in the movies about NYC)

Apple and Larry are the official faces in the business deals between their respective companies. They talk over e-mail, and not always about work. Talking about pastry, and cats, and books they like, they become friends. Apple comes to the US on a business trip and finally meets Larry in person. Over lunches and dinners and evening dates in Central Park in the next month they fall in love. Apple has to leave eventually, and their parting is really sad. But then one day, a few months later, she hears a doorbell, and sees him standing outside her apartment.

ZeRoyalChaos

Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own by U2

(Vigilante-verse, looking at the DC AU I did in some rb)

Glacier wasn't always a vigilante. He was Chaos, a long time ago. Him and Viking, against the criminal underworld of Salem City, not knowing who else to trust. He was Cryous once too, insane enough to hurt anyone who dared get close. After gaining his mind back going out was out of the question for him, too afraid that he'd lose control and kill again. That's when Viking (now Phoenix) comes into picture. The one who fought injustice beside him in the past, and who Chilled almost killed in his insanity. The same old Ze, who was by his side then and got hurt, soft and understanding, but fierce and stubborn — still trying to help. And Chilled has to learn to trust Ze — and to trust himself.

AxialFawkes

Home By The Sea by Genesis

(Takes place in the 1980s. More of a music video)

Follows Matt. He's asked by his friends to clean up a house they bought. That house is old and still has the previous owner's things, laying around under a thick layer of dust. It feels haunted by the ghost of the last owner, because here's his whole life, in photos, books, and clothes. Matt, interested, picks up one of the photos. There's a boy there in glasses, holding onto a giant dog. The next is the same boy, a little older, building some sophisticated model, with his tongue out and absolutely (cutely) concentrated. Then this guy's graduation photo, next to a dog collar. There's this guy's journals and books, and more photos. Matt learns about this Tom through the mementos of his life left behind. He learns about this guy's fate later, and for a long time feels haunted by a ghost from those photos and diaries.

StarryChaos

Across the Stars by John Williams

(More of a ballet than a musical)

About two Jedi knights, separated by the war; they lead their battalions in the opposite sides of the Galaxy. The two of them are the main figures on stage, right next to each other, looking in each other's direction, but never catching the sight of their lover behind the backs of the soldiers and the droids. Their dance moves mirror each other, they move in tact, but there's an invisible wall between them. The ballet ends with a tragedy of Order 66, where it's the first time in months (and their last time ever) when they really see each other, feel each other.

And the lights go out.

Private Recording 1

Closing Time by Semisonic

(Set in the late 1990s and has Friends/HIMYM feeling to it)

A few seasons of the sitcom have passed. Larry, who always flirted with all the boys, and Apple, who moved from the UK a year ago, finally started dating. Ze and Chilled are about to move to Minnesota together. Kara and Skadj moved out of their parents' house. It's Tay's last shift this evening. Em and Pasta finally got their late radio show approved. Side and Speedy gonna have a vacation to the beach for the next few weeks. Bryce and Heck made it through a rough financial patch, and can finally take a few days to themselves. Court's Minnie has had her first school project in the middle of the night yesterday, so Court has her deserved Saturday night. Matt and Tom have finally figured out their situationship, and have their first date here. Jeremy is on his way to pick Platy up after he closes up the bar, as it's nearing 2am. As they leave, one by one, or in pairs, Platy leaves last, turning off the light, flipping the sign and locking the door. This marks the last episode of the show.

[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.

[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.

[pixelfun20]

Tagged by @vivianquill

Original Post Rules (from @fallen-knight ): "WIP Tag Game: Rules: In a new post, list the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs."

Okay time to go through my folders, let's see...

For the sake of things I'll post the WIPs that I actually like (aka the ones that I haven't abandoned out of dislike for them) and could perhaps return to one day.

In my defense, Vivi, I warned you.

Star Wars:

The Grand Chase (Jedi Survivor/Kenobi crossover/AU)

The Jedi, The Padawan, and the Great Heist (Jedi Survivor/Rebels crossover)

Weltschmerz (Post-Order 66 AU)

ASOIAF:

To Shift a Sail (my only actively updating WIP)

Angel of God, My Guardian Dear

A Walk in the Wolfswood

The Crossing

"DragonEgg AU" (Never came up with a real title)

Percy Jackson:

Jason POV (Broken Veil oneshot)

Dragon Ball Z:

My Honor, My Throne (based off of the first fanfic idea I ever conceived at the ripe age of 11, actually quite fond of it)

Little Lion Man

The Mute

Hermitcraft/Life Series/etc:

L'Appel Du Vide (3rd Life/S8)

A Sky of Stars and Dust v4 (I've had this title for YEARS and have tried to write WIPs with it multiple times. They've never lasted more than a chapter. I think this is cursed. Anyways this one is a Secret Life AU)

And Maybe I Did Come Back Wrong (Hermitcraft s6, inspired by definitelynotshouting's Hunger AU)

The Price of Dying Stars (Hermitcraft/Hunger Games AU)

Hetalia:

Larchwood and Ash (Harry Potter crossover)

Nations in an Unholy Land (Attack on Titan crossover)

The Tewodros Plot

Miscellaneous:

The Fire and Tiger Series (Warriors)

The Hunt (Ranger's Apprentice)

The Control (Mass Effect)

"Mass Effect fic" (...what it says on the tin)

----

I don't have enough friends for all these WIPs lmao, so here's a few. No pressure tags, idk if you even have any WIPs but if you do I'd like to see 'em!

@phosphorus-noodles @lindentree @sharpjay217

How do I even tag this?

[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!

[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.

[sunsailsandmoonwalks]

well hello main slayers welcome to my world (my blog)

hi! im ems and i like to write! this is kind of a master list of my fics because i can and some people seem to have found me on AO3! Come be friends!

‘Don’t Worry, I Love You’ Verse (Skybridger Modern AU)

‘Safe and Warm’ Canon Skybridger with our boys dealing with trauma

‘Would You Kill To Save A Life’ Fulcrum trio AU

‘Angel In The Stars’ First instalment of stories dedicated to each Spectre and their lives

‘Vetus Amicus’ Fix it AU centred around Ahsoka and her dealing with her own trauma as well as readjusting to being a Jedi after Palpatines defeat.

‘Truly Wonderful The Mind of a Child Is’ Fix it fic with happy Skywalker Family, and their youngest member Belle.

‘For Now, We Can Be a Family’ Set in the Clone Wars and Ahsoka is the victim of the Seperatists new weapon, a de-ager, which forces Anakin and Padmé to become parents.

‘She Still Loved Her’ Padmé finding out about Satine’s death, hints of Satidala if thats your cup of tea.

‘Over The Dead Sea, Keeping You Company’ Modern AU focusing on Hera and Omega’s friendship