#young Ezra AU

[thought-42]

Somebody has to leave first

Star Wars, 1400 words,Ezra Bridger Something something growing up something something ded parent something something Ezra Bridger in the Chiss Ascendancy. I've never heard of canon in my life.

Ezra Bridger talks to dead people.

They do not, it should be noted, talk back.

He knows all things are possible within the Force, so he's always gotta keep in mind that his monologues run the very real risk of becoming dialogues, probably at the most embarrassing or inconvenient times, but honestly if a ghost has nothing better to do than listen in on his diary entries to the beyond that says more about them than it does about him.

He doesn't talk to Kanan. It seems like the obvious assumption, follow in the shuffling footsteps of Obi-Wan Kenobi and claw out frantically for a point of stability to serve as compass in a world gone upside down. And there was a time where a smile or a few words of pride from Kanan was all Ezra needed to reinforce his foundations and stand tall and ready. But the truth of it is, he doesn't know if Kanan would be proud of him, which would be less of a problem if Ezra himself had any uncertainty about his life choices.

Besides, even ten years on every time he thinks about that last glimpse of Kanan, wreathed in flames, he wants to dig his fingers into his skin and deeper and pull and pull until the memory and the sick feeling in his stomach are gone. He cannot think about it. It is an impossibility, it is not something his mind is capable of bearing, the idea of another living person who he loves burning and burning and burning is not something that can live inside of him sustainably. He thinks of Kanan and he feels sick and sad and selfish for not being able to focus on all the good memories.

No, Ezra doesn't talk to Kanan. Ezra talks to people he has only ever known in death.

He talks to  Master Mace Windu and tells him he wishes he knew how to see shatterpoints. Ezra is good at building connections, building bridges, yeah yeah yeah, but every web has one thread at risk, one point where a quick pull will unravel the whole thing. Ezra's had his entire life shattered twice before with no warning, he would really love to know how to prevent the inevitable third round. . Shouldn't this skill just come free with the lineage?

He talks to Thrass-- "can I call you Thrass?" Everybody says Thrawn needed a brother, and yeah, ok, his older brother died and Thrawn went off the rails there for a hot eighteen years, but Ezra's here now, reporting for little brother duty twenty years late with caccoleaf; but better late than never, right? It feels right, picking up Thrass's flag in the relay of Sky Walker investigation and running hard and fast with it as far as he can go. Feels kinda like when Zeb would start a repair project on the Ghost and then leave the second half for Ezra to finish off with no need for explanation or request, just the trust that Ezra knows what to do. ...Thrawn kinda feels like one of those handed off projects, too, but Ezra doesn't even say that part to the dead, just in case they really are listening and decide to tell on him. Ezra never had an older sibling by blood, but they seem to adopt him everywhere he goes. He figures it's his turn to adopt one back, even if it is posthumous.

He talks to Master Depa, because, as his grandmaster, she's legally required to think he's doing a great job. He talks to her about being a teacher on a warship, asks how she delt with knowing every time she ruffled Caleb's hair over breakfast it could be the last.

He tells her every time he wonders if he permanently stained his soul with the dark he remembers that she came back as strong a Jedi as anybody could ask, and it really does make him trust in himself.

He thanks her for raising Caleb, although would it have killed her to teach him just a biiiit of Vaapad?

He tells her he understands, fundamentally, like a burning cole lodged in his ribcage, her desperate need to protect her student, to die so that he could live.

He tells her she would be proud of the man Caleb became, but that it probably wasn't what she expected. Caleb didn't grow up into Caleb. Caleb grew up into Kanan, and secretly Ezra always wonders if Kanan would have been someone who would have fit back in with the Jedi of his childhood.

Ezra's cabinet of entirely metaphorical ghosts all roll their eyes at this transparent attempt at obfuscation, because all the ghosts Ezra has made up to talk to are assholes.

Ok, fine. So maybe Ezra's pretty sure that the found family who gave Ezra Bridger, Jedi Padawan a home might not know what to do with Stybla'ezra'bridger, Jedi Navigator.

It had taken Ezra and sacher actual months, long nights  of sitting at Ezra's kitchen table with big sheets of paper and cheap wine, tossing potential names for their brand new program back and forth. They settled on Jedi Navigator mostly because Thrawn told them they had three days before the official paperwork had to be filed, and they hadn't come up with anything better that they could both agree on. Ezra hit submit on his part of the project proposal and that night he'd laid awake imagining a scenario where he got to tell Hera and Kanan-- "See? Jedi Navigator. Something from each of you."

He's heard the war is over. The Rebellion won and turned right back around to build another Republic. He's heard there's another Jedi --not Kanan, miraculously returned like Ezra dreams at least once a month-- and he's going to start a new order. And he's tried to imagine himself somewhere in all of that and it doesn't fit. He fit on a bunk bed in the Ghost with his family around him, doing their part to beat back the constant press of fascism. But there's no more Empire, no more family all squished together in one little ship. Even if he wanted to climb back into that bunk he knows his head would bump the top now.

The space between eighteen and twenty-eight feels like a lifetime. At eighteen Ezra had just gotten all his clay together and ready to be moulded into a person, and then he'd flung himself half way across the galaxy and wound up being moulded and fired in a different kilmn entirely. There's an Ezra somewhere out there who grew and changed right alongside that cramped little family, who moved forward in their orbit, chose his path and his place on the same game board. He probably knows how to fit in. He's probably working at the Jedi school or part of the reconstruction efforts on Lothal or a commander on a Republic ship stamping out the last remnants of the Empire.

Ezra's not jealous of this other version of himself, this what-if world he built in his own imagination specifically to hurt himself. He expected to be struck by the longing for home, by the bitterness of lost possibility. He isn't.

He can't tell Thrawn this because Thrawn spent eighteen years becoming something monstrous, shredding himself and everyone around him in an increasingly desperate dancing of 'I can fix this I can fix this I can fix this' and when he’d come back the hole his departure had left had long since healed over.

He can't tell Kanan this because--- the force of the explosion, maybe, was enough to make it quick--

Hera's a General now, apparently, and Ezra's certain it suits her just as he's certain even in a world where he'd stayed he wouldn't be asking a General for existential advice at 3:00 AM. Every thing he learns about what's happening in Lesser Space is a double-edged blade.

They aren't really supposed to know much at all-- not relevant, but Theliva keeps offering Ezra little nuggets of info about the Spectors like an awkward stepparent offering candy to win affection from a recalcitrant child. To which Ezra says, 'did you know it was actually just so easy not to join the Empire?' If Ezra's parents had been alive and he could have carried on their family legacy-- well. Isn't that what his whole life's been about, at the end of the day? Hauling around other people's legacies, trying to build something new out of the scattered pieces.

He offers himself up, everything he is on open palms to the gallery of ghosts, living and dead:

This is all I have to offer. It is enough.

[jely-bely]

Young Jedi Besties

Ezra and Leia hanging out

[jessicas-pi]

@kanerallels ask and ye shall receive

In a better future, Padawan Bridger and Lady Wren become friends after a long week of repeatedly almost dying. Meanwhile, Knight Dume calls his gf for a ride off the planet.

[violetjedisylveon]

Sackaberries and Weird Stormtroopers

Summary: Ezra has a series of run ins with this one oddly behaving stormtrooper.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: not much unless possession is an issue for you.

A/N: Sackaberries I made up, they are based on red currents, I just looked up "berries that grow in prairies" to get the name. I think "saskatoon" is where I got sacka from. Red currents is cause my family had red currents when I was a kid and I really like them.

Also Ahsoka is fucking awesome! I really wanna see a live action Loth-Wolf, it'll be epic!

Rebels Loth-Werewolf AU Masterpost

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Ezra peeked his head out around the corner. There were a lot more storm troopers around now. He felt a growl rumble in his throat as he watched them. He quickly stopped, Mom had given him very clear instructions on what to do around storm troopers, he had to follow them.

He shifted, yet again, his body was tired and achy from staying human so often. But it was what Mom said to do and he was smart enough to follow her instructions. If he was caught like this, he wouldn't get more than a second of thought. He could walk right in front of the storm troopers and they wouldn't even look at him.

His human body was safe.

He kept his head down and walked across the road, towards the alley with the tunnels he used to get around the city.

"Hey!" Someone shouted and he glanced in their direction.

A stormtrooper. Great.

"Yes Mr. Trooper?" He asked, looking up at the human curiously.

The trooper stared at him for a moment like he had forgotten what he was doing. Ezra felt a shift in the air and heard a very faint whisper coming from somewhere.

"Never mind, go about your business, citizen." The trooper ordered.

"Yes sir!" Ezra saluted the trooper.

He chuckled and tossed a couple of credits to him.

"Yeah yeah, go get yourself something, this is a restricted zone now." The trooper told him.

Ezra nodded, clutching the handful of credits tightly in his hands, and turned away. There was white Loth-cat watching him.

He quickly stuffed the credits into his pockets and made for the nearest non restricted tunnel to avoid getting robbed.

The overwhelming stench of the sewers never got better, no matter how much time he spent down here. He only ever tolerated it to get places faster, and to hunt Loth-rats.

The sewers were infested with them, Loth-Cats too. The Loth-Cats never bothered him, not like how they bothered other people who trespassed. They weren't even scared when he was down here unshifted. He had fled into the sewers after his parents had been taken, and hidden with the Loth-Cats from the searching troopers.

Loth-Cats just like Loth-Wolves I guess. He thought.

He made sure to give a few of the friendlier ones pats when they meowed at him for it as he passed through. He carefully watched the ground for any tails or paws in his way and was out of the sewers and heading to his "den" shortly.

The old tower was far enough from the city that the stench and sound didn't bother his sensitive senses, but not too noticeable, to the Empire it was just an old building reclaimed by nature, a bunch of animals and plants had claimed it as their home, as he had done back when Tseebo betrayed him.

He quickly dropped the credits the trooper had given him into his small funds box, cleverly hidden under the floorboards and disguised as a childs stash of knick knacks. Then he emptied his pockets and sifted through what he had managed to steal today.

He had a few stale baked goods that had just so happened to be left out where orphans could easily reach them, and some slightly mushy fruit that had also been left by those citizens who fancied themselves having a heart. He had pickpocketed a decent amount of credits and useful scraps he could sell or tinker with.

All in all, it was a pretty good haul, the money from the trooper would definitely come in handy for his worse days, he might be able to buy some non-perishable rations packs soon. He grabbed a slightly stale piece of bread and began to munch on it.

Trooper seemed odd though. They don't give credits to street rats, they chase us off. He frowned as he ate. It was certainly uncharacteristic.

Well not my problem. He shrugged.

He didn't really have the time to think about things like that, he just took what he was given and was mildly grateful for the kindness some people showed him.

He stored the least perishable foods in the small cupboard he had and finished the rest of the fruit. It was mushy and somewhat slimey, but still worth eating. Mom had taught him not to be picky. His stomach still grumbled at him, even if the edge had been taken off his hunger, he still wanted something more filling, more substantial. His body was growing and demanded proper fuel.

Good protein was hard for him to acquire, unless he got lucky with a Loth-Rat, he didn't eat much meat. He couldn't easily hunt on his own, and stealing from farmers was tricky.

With a soft whimper, he allowed his body to shift back. Relief flooded his tired body at being in its natural state. He flopped onto his small bed and made himself comfortable under the one blanket he had. It was a fairly decent size and kept him warm most nights. He mostly got comfort from it because it smelled like his mom, and that made him feel safe.

He was only safe here in this little den, with his mother's scent covering him.

XXX

Ezra recognized the trooper waving him down.

It was the same man who had given him credits a few days ago.

The trooper had recognized him and approached him, on duty. Troopers never did that. Again, he got a weird feeling about this trooper, something about the man seemed odd.

"Hey, you're that kid from the restricted zone, right?" The trooper asked him.

"Yes sir!" Ezra saluted the man.

"Do you need something?" He asked, glancing around for an adult to pin this trooper on.

The Mirialan baker was out of the question, she always left out good food for him, and would let him take shelter in the back of her shop. She didn't seem to mind that he was a wolf, and he found dark fur around her shop so he easily assumed she was one too.

"Just checking in, the safety and security of our citizens is important." The trooper said.

It sounded forced and unsure. Ezra didn't trust this man. Something was very wrong with him. He smelled off, but if he gave him money again, he wouldn't say no.

"Oh, well I'm doing alright sir." Ezra told the man, swaying on his heels.

"Good. Good." The trooper nodded and glanced around, suddenly very confused or self conscious of something.

Ezra tilted his head to the side.

The trooper suddenly walked away, into the bakery. He ordered something, came back out, and dropped a fresh Sackaberry pastry into his hand, with another handful of credits.

"Well, take care, citizen." The trooper told him before walking off like nothing had happened.

Ezra stared after the misbehaving trooper. He wasn't acting like a trooper, the others were confused by him too, but Enzo wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth and he went on his way.

He saw that white Loth-cat again, lounging in the sun on the baker's window, the critter's blue eyes followed him until he rounded the corner.

Stashing his credits, he took a bite out of the sweet treat he'd been given. His mom loved baking with these berries, and they used to go on all day trips out of the city to collect big batches of them. The sour sweet flavor popped in his mouth. He hadn't had anything this fresh in a while.

It tasted really good.

He went about the rest of his day fairly uneventfully.

XXX

Okay, maybe straight up possession was a bit extreme, but when Kuniya had seen the trooper approach the pup, xe knew xe had to intervene. And it gave xyr a chance to learn about the pup and aid him in subtle ways. Keeping xyr distance was important at this stage, xe couldn't exactly waltz in and make casual conversation to a very distrusting child.

He still senses you. Xe reminded xyrself.

The pup was clever and rightfully wary of the trooper. She didn't want to give him any positive inclination towards the Empire, but troopers were so easy to possess. Practically blank slates.

Xe had no qualms about puppeting the living droids around, but xe did have to trick the others into not noticing the odd behavior.

The Sackaberries weren't exactly subtle, Mira had a certain fondness for them, she loved to eat them and bake with them. They were a bit of a staple for Loth-Wolves, and easy to harvest by the settlers and became a bit of a staple in making cheap, tasty baked goods. Xe hoped the pup was smart enough to know what xe had meant.

Sackaberries were given as a sign of peace and aid. It was a sign that someone was watching out for you.

Kuniya wanted the pup to know xe was looking out for him.

Máni hopped up onto xyr shoulder and nudged xyr cheek, snapping xyr out of xyr thoughts. Kuniya gave the white Loth-cat a couple of chin scratches. Xyr familiar had done well today, Kuniya wanted the pup to associate Máni with good things, and thus, xyrself with good things and hopefully trust xyr when xe revealed xyrself.

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Space Magic go brrr!

Don't mind Kuniya just casually possessing some trooper. They won't get hurt, much, but he'll definitely have one hell of a hangover.

Ahsoka is super fucking epic! I can't wait to see what they do and what I can do with that!

This is the fic where I get to do whatever bs I want and it's super fun cause I get to have characters do sick space magic!

I hope you all have a good day, whatever that is for you!

VJS Out!

[insomniamamma]

Nightswimming: Young!Ezra x F!ShipCaptain!Reader

A/N: this took me WAY longer to finish than i thought it would. Egret AU. Takes place after “Fairy Tale of Puggart Bench” This is as close to multi-chapter fic as I can get, so if you have not read “Greenhorn” and “Fairy Tale of Puggart Bench” you might want to. Glowing algae is absolutely a thing that happens. I have witnessed it on the east as west coasts. We learn a little about Captain!Reader’s past. The song Captain!Reader sings is “The Fields of Athenry.”

Warnings: lots of food mentions, eating, alcohol consumption, language. Angst. Kissing. Soft, non-descript smut.

           "I don't feel so good." Ezra twists his head away from the rolling waves, the vast expanse of blue-green water stretching around the curve of the world. He staggers and Del catches him, hands on his shoulders.           "Hey, man, just breathe--" Ezra grabs onto Del's forearms like a man drowning and Del shoots you a desperate and exasperated look. You nudge Del out of the way and kneel in the damp sand so you are looking up at Ezra. He grabs your hands hard. It hurts a little.           "Ezra, I need you to open your eyes and look at me, yeah?" Your thumbs smooth the backs of his hands, "Don't look at the ocean, just look at me." He takes a deep, ragged breath, but opens his eyes. His pupils are wide despite the bright sun of local noon.           "Okay," he says, more to himself than you,"Okay."           "I've got you," you say--           "They don't have oceans where you come from?" Says Big Pete.           "No, Peter, we did not have oceans on my homeworld," he says, "What we had on Salis was a series of gritty puddles that could generously be called ponds--" Ezra is the only one who can call Big Pete by his given name without risking a throat-punch. "Most of our moisture came from the succulents that sprang out of that ugly, uncooperative ground--" You relax some, you know that a talking Ezra is a more or less okay Ezra. You tug at his hands.           "Take a look, Ez. Keep your eyes on the horizon. It's okay. Oceans are crazy if you've never seen one." He lets go of your hands, and you feel the shift in his body. He's looking out over the breaking waves, really seeing the ocean of Ursula's World for the first time. You haul yourself up out of the sand and brush your palms on your pants. The four of you stand in the damp sand and stare out over the sun-glittered blue water for a beat. Open water is a rare thing out in the black, whole oceans of it are rarer still. Even the seas of Puggart's world are a pale shadow of Old Terra's oceans, but not Ursula's World, a half-grav planet with an elongate orbit, a summer that spans stand-months and a winter that ices over for the rest, brief transitions between seasons that bring hurricanes unscalable by the standards of Old Terra, only reason this world doesn't have a station orbiting and shiny white hotels lining the beach-fronts. Ezra stands a little straighter, stops curling in on himself. You know by his body language that he is transfixed.           "It's so big," he says, his voice small for a change and Del claps him on the back.           "Greenie," Del chides, but not unkindly. You've all been here. You are station-born, and for cycles the vast sweep of sky made you want to hide, still does, but you control it better now. Del sprang out of one of the slum archologies of Central, mistrusting any luxury as a bribe or a trap, and Big Pete? You'll never know his story because he won't say, but his manner suggests some backwater. An actual ocean, a strip of pristine beach is something of a miracle, and the four of you stand and stare for a moment.

          "Hey, Cap?"           "Yeah, Ez?"           "What's with this manifest? We got a lot of perishable goods for a quick jaunt downworld,"           "So?"           "So, it seems odd," His dark eyes bore into yours, "Most drops we live on Bitz-Bars and faith. Also, you've loosened the weight regs some. Is there something I should know about?" You try hard not to smile. Ezra is the dictionary definition of Too Smart For  His Own Good.           "Now, Ezra, are you questioning your commanding officer?"  He straightens and squares his shoulders, puts on a serious face, but those big eyes dance with mischief.           "No, Ma'am, I would never be so presumptuous. I am curious about the nature of this job, however, and our crew mates seem equally tight lipped. I expect that of Big Pete, but Del will usually respond to my queries so he doesn't have to listen to me."           "You ever hear the phrase 'let the mystery be?'"           "Can't say as I have, Captain," says Ezra. He's crept up into your personal space, a hand on your hip, "Care to enlighten me?" You lay your hand on his chest and give him a little shove.           "It means do your job and get us buttoned up for drop," you say, "That list'll make sense once we're down world."           "Fine. But I get the distinct impression that you are hiding something from me."           "Live with it."

          Ezra makes you think of when you were just as green as him and full of questions. For a time you were crew on a rust-bucket called The Polly Jean. To say The Polly Jean was a piece of shit would be a gross understatement and an insult to actual shit. You look back at your time aboard her and internally shudder. She would never have been allowed to fly in Central space.  The Polly Jean was captained by a sallow, long-faced man named Virgil, who differed from other captains you'd worked under in that he would say more to you than "shut up, Greenhorn," when you came to him with questions. You'd come to him with concerns like Ezra's. A cargo manifest that just seemed weird, a job much lower paying that what you'd been doing.           "Pay ain't everything," he'd said, "You gotta mix it up some. You'll never get a decent crew to stick if all you give them is gritty suit-work. People gotta get some sunshine and fresh air on occasion without worrying about getting poisoned or eaten by the local fauna." Virgil poked you in the chest, a hard, bony finger pressed into your sternum. He did that to everybody. It was his way of emphasizing a point. "This is good advice I'm giving you, kiddo. If you ever get your own ship you'll thank me." And when you dropped, the world you landed on was all snow-capped mountains and clear lakes so cold that swimming in them felt like being cut. You sometimes wonder if Virgil's still kicking about the black somewhere, but you doubt it. He was old when you were his juniormost and the Polly Jean was like the ship of Theseus, repairs over top of repairs held together with shoddy welds, patch sealant and the constant muttered prayer of C'mon babygirl, be good for me, while Virgil piloted her through atmo. You'd like to imagine he bought some little plot of land on a quiet planet, maybe by one of those frigid, crystalline lakes, you'd like to imagine a future like that for yourself, it could happen, the right convergence of timing and luck, the right pull at the right time and you could sell The Egret and find some calm, untouched patch of land on a decent world, not some barely habitable dustball out in the fringe. And maybe not alone, maybe Ezra with you--           You've got to stop this. Letting your thoughts drift like this on a drop, even a gentle one like this could get you killed. Virgil, Kevva bless him, is probably a smear of bone-ash in whatever crater The Polly Jean left when it finally fell out of the sky.           Trines are foolishly easy to harvest and plentiful, not the kind of pull you're likely to get shot over, but you and Big Pete keep the rails close at hand just in case.  Summer on Ursula's world is brief but kind, the long stretch of beach is dotted with drop-ships and pods, some are harvesters like you, some are luxury cruisers, drop-yachts with party tents, music that leaks up the beach to where you are. Ursula's world is a middling thing, profit enough from the pearls to get you to the next drop, but not so much that someone is likely to kill you for it. This is the kind of world where fringelings and rich folk might rub elbows for a minute, might forget caste and station.           Trines themselves are trivalve molluscs. Ursula's world is the kind of planet affectionately termed a "dumb Terra", life a-plenty but nothing to rival the biodiversity of Old Terra before the Last Extinction. There are some large, deep ocean predators, but that’s where the higher forms stalled out. Land-life is limited to fractal-trees and the few critters that hang out in the littoral zone where land and sea touch. Trines spray a dark, inky substance as self defense. Vibrations scare them. Stomp on the wet sand as the wave recedes and you see the ink trails and thats where you dig.           "The pearls are in the big ones, right?" asks Ezra.           "Just grab what you can," says Del, "We'll do the grading and shucking later."           "If the pearls are in the hand-sized ones, why we bothering with the little ones?"           "The little ones taste better," says Del.           "That is your opinion, Del," says Big Pete.           "Pete's crazy," says Del, "Any trine longer than a hand-width tastes like dead-hooker flavored rubber bands."           "And how, exactly, do you know what a dead hooker tastes like, Del?" says Ezra, "You got some weird proclivities we should know about?"           "Fuck you, Greenhorn," says Del.           "The big trines are best slow roasted," says Big Pete, "Don't let this kip tell you different. Good for you. Puts hair on your ass."           "Just what everyone needs," says Del, "A hairy ass."           "It's good to have goals, Del," says Big Pete. Ezra laughs and Del just shakes his head.

          The four of you drag buckets of trines up the beach to camp, pack damp sand around them to keep them cool.           "Now what?" Says Ezra.           "How bout a game of ships and kings?" Says Del, "They play that on your backwater homeworld or do I have to teach you?"           "Mmmm," says Ezra, "Didn't realize there was such culture in Central's sewer systems. Now you're inviting me to the game, but as a gesture of good will I will forfeit my right to chose colors." Del's already setting up the board, placing the neutral fleets.           "We flip for the colors. Like civilized men."

          "Hey boss," says Big Pete, "Let's go get some firewood while these two kips fight their fake-ass war--"           "You're just jealous because you don't understand the game--" says Del.           "Oh, I understand ships and kings," says Big Pete, "I just think it's boring. Like watching paint dry."           "--the fuck? Kevva's teeth--"           "Sit down, you asshole," says Ezra, flapping a hand at you and Big Pete, "Ignore the cries of these plebeians and make your move."           "C'mon, boss,--" says Big Pete. His hand rests lightly on your forearm, and your neck hairs prickle up. Big Pete does not like to be touched, nor does he tend to touch people.           "Petey-bird could beat both of you dipshits at ships and kings in an Ephrate minute," you call back to camp, and  Big Pete chuckles at Ezra's muttered curses. You let Big Pete lead you into the trees. You point to your ear-piece and draw a finger across your throat. Even on a world as gentle as this you wear your mic-rigs, even loose slung around your neck so you can hear a transmission. Your mute your mic and so does Big Pete. The two of you gather dry wood for a beat, you need it to roast the trines later, to get the fire going.           "Can I speak freely?"           "Kevva, you really need to ask?" And Big Pete looks genuinely worried and that unsettles you. They don't call him Big Pete as a joke. There is precious little this wall of a man is nervous about.           "Del's been actin weird," says Big Pete.           "How do you mean?"           "You know he plays ships and kings through the drop-net,"           "Yeah, so?"           "So he's been weird about it lately," says Big Pete, "He'll usually let me watch--"           "Thought you hated ships and kings,"           "I do," says Big Pete, "But beating Del at it would be a unique kind of joy. He ain't playing against his usual bunch. Lyta H. Emory. Those guys." You draw in a breath. People tend to underestimate Big Pete because of his size. He looks like a large dumb bruiser and lets people think that's exactly what he is. He says little and sees a lot.           "He's been playing someone called DawnsPlunderer..."           "So?"           "So you don't know latin?" Big Pete grins at you, a rare one that touches his eyes.           "Kevva. Of course I don't know latin. I grew up on Sogo station. You think we had Terran root language studies?"           "I don't know latin either, boss, but I can search the net and DawnsPlunderer is the translation of 'Eoraptor', you know, Marko's new ride."           "Hell. You're sure?"           "Del never agreed with you cutting Marko loose."           "And you say he's been acting shady," You reach for Big Pete and touch his arm like he did to you earlier, "I cut Marko loose for a good reason. You know what happened between him and the stationmaster's girl. You really think Del is okay with that?"           "Shit, boss, I don't know. I don't even know for sure it's Marko Del's playin ships and kings with. I do know that Del's been off since you brought Ezra aboard. High strung. Antsy. You don't see it. You've been distracted lately." He's right and you know it.           "By Ezra," Pete's eyes flick to the side. He doesn't have to say it. "You think I'm losing my edge."           "I think you're in love, Captain, and love makes people stupid."           "Fuck." You gnaw at your lower lip. "What should I do?"           "I don't want to speak above my station--"           "I'm not asking as your commanding officer, Pete, I'm asking as your friend."           "I don't know," says Big Pete.           "You think I should cut Ezra loose? If he's a liability--"           "I like Ezra," says Big Pete, "I think you and him are good together. I like seeing you happy. I don't want to see you get hurt. You need to keep your eyes open, boss, that's all."           "We both keep our eyes open, clear?"           "Clear," says Big Pete.           "We should probably actually gather some firewood. Before they get suspicious." Big Pete huffs.           "They're probably so wrapped up in that dumb game that time's lost all meaning for them." You reach for your mic-rig to unmute it, and pause.           "Thanks for telling me. Thanks for having my back."           "I've always got your back, boss."

          Sure enough, Ezra and Del are too embroiled in their game of ships and kings to even look up when you and Big Pete start piling up dry wood. They look a bit like angry cats facing off over the pentagonal board, each with a nest of captured pieces.           "Alright, fellas, it's time to start shucking these bad boys if we want to eat before we lose the light."           "I've almost got the little rat-bastard," says Del.           "Oh, in twenty moves or is it thirty?"           "I can see into the future, Greenhorn," says Del, "I can see your whole superficially clever strategy collapse under its own weight."           "Make your move if you're so certain." Del uses his cruiser to take out one of Ezra's point defense stations.           "Roll for collateral damage," says Ezra and Del gives him a dark look, as if he would forget that very basic bit of game mechanics. Del rolls the dice.           "Fuck! Shit! Fuck!"           "I take it you pissed off one of the neutral fleets?"           "Go fuck yourself, Pete," says Del "You talk an awful lot of bullshit for someone who won't even play."           "Oi!" You say, "Get to a stopping point. It's time to work. Or did you soft bellies forget what that is?"           "Okay okay," says Del, "Nobody touch this board! I got him right where I want him--"           "Keep telling yourself that--"           "You best get moving or I'll upend the table," says Big Pete. "You'll never find all those little pieces. Not in all this sand."           "Fucker," says Del. Ezra just narrows his eyes.

          Soon you are all seated in the cool sand, armed with trine-knives, a double sided tool, one end being a bladed hook, the other a wide rounded blade for levering the meat from the shells.           "Remember," says Del, "Don't shuck anything smaller than your hand is wide. Those go in this bucket here. You find pearls they go in this tub." There's a shallow plastic tub filled with a chemical cocktail that helps harden the pearls and preserve their luster. The leftovers from those go in the chum-bucket--"           "They sure as hell do not," says Big Pete. "Strip those big boys out and put em right here." Big Pete rattles a bucket half full of seawater. He has a pile of broad leaves the size of a station viewing port cut and sitting beside him.           "Rinse the sand off em, brine em a little, then wrap them up like a present and cook them in the coals. That is some fine dining."           "You are out of your fucking mind," says Del.           "What're we gonna do with the little ones?"           "Steam them open," says Del, "Manifest says we dropped with two pounds of butter, from actual cows."           "That true, Cap?" Real butter from real cows is absurdly pricey in this part of the Great Arm.           "Get shucking and you'll find out."

          "Son of a bitch," mutters Ezra, tucking a finger into his mouth. Shucking trines is tricky if you've never done it. Slide the hooked end through the narrow bit where the shells meet, scrape and pull and then the rest will relax open. Real easy to stab yourself in the finger when the hook slides through.           "Build us a fire, Ez," you say, "We gotta roast this whole mess. Best to get the coals going now. 'Round front so we can look at the ocean."           "Kid can't shuck for shit," says Big Pete.           "Trines're finicky," says Del, "The man can cut a carom blister without hardly thinking about it, but can't handle a trine-hook to save his life. Funny how that works, huh?"           "Yeah," says Big Pete. You look for tension, you look for any sign that Del is off somehow. Del just seems like Del. A bit prickly but he always is. You find yourself wondering if Big Pete is reading too much into things. The three of you sit, sort and shuck in silence. The tray of pearls is about what you expected. Most of them are irregular ovoids, all of them are varying shades of pink ranging from something the color of a cat's nose to absolute screaming fuchsia. A few of them are faceted, the little bit of grit they formed around caught close enough the where the three shells come together in a point to give them rounded, natural facets. Those dozen or so faceted pearls are going to make this drop profitable. Big Pete starts piling his spoils, shucked trines that look a little too much like boogers for your liking, into leaves and wrapping them into neat packets. The advantage of steaming trines in the shell is that they look significantly less like snot when they are fully cooked.           By the time the three of you are done shucking and grading, Ezra's got a good fire built. Del digs a narrow trench around the fire pours sea water into it to firm up the sides, dumps the small trines into the trench.           "Now what?" Says Ezra.           "We let them steam open." Pete lays his leaf-wrapped packets in the coals, prodding them with a long stick until they are positioned to his liking.

          Later the four of you sit close around a battered pan full of melted butter and a heap of steamed trines piled on a big leaf.           "Don't fill up on these little ones too much," says Big Pete, "Gotta save room for the main event." Del rolls his eyes. The shells have opened like three-petalled flowers. Ezra looks at you uncertainly.           "Here," you say, "Like this." You peel two of the three shells away from the little knot of muscle inside, dip the remaining shell into the butter and strip it with your teeth. The taste is salty, sweet and a hint musky at the same time. Like the ocean. Like sex.           "Oh Kevva that's good," says Ezra.           Later you all try some of Big Pete's roasted trines, mostly to be polite.           "I don't know how you can eat these," says Del, "I've been chewing this for a good sixteenth."           "I like the taste," says Ezra, "The texture leaves something to be desired."           "What do you think, boss?"           "I've had worse things in my mouth." Del snorts and Ezra swats his arm. If there is tension here other than the usual push-pull between crew members you don't see it. The two of them seem at ease. Maybe Big Pete is seeing things that aren't there. Maybe.           You all sit around the dying fire for a beat, gorged on buttered trines, passing a bottle of hooch. Something Petey picked up at the last station and now shares. Strong stuff. Enough to loose tongues and hearts. Big Pete produces a guitar. Not a real one, one with strings and pickups and a built in amplifier, packs flat, but the sound is still sweet when he plays and for a time the four of you sit passing the bottle and trading songs. There's a song in Vayok about a luckless pirate with a leaky suit trying to fix a balky airlock before he passes out, each attempt getting more desperate. Pete sings and Del translates the lyrics in the thickest, most ham-fisted Vayok accent you've ever heard. You've seen this act before, but Ezra hasn't and buy the second verse he is red faced and howling, leans bonelessly against you. Even with a belly full of trines and hooch you are still trying to suss out the tension in Del. And you just can't see it.  He just seems like Del as usual.           "That is the worst Vayok accent I have ever heard in my life--"           "You know Vayok only from holofilms, young man," says Del, "You do not speak Vayok, Vayok speaks you!"           "You ever try that bit with a Vayok girl?" asks Big Pete.           "Are you insane? I like my testicles right where they are thank you," says Del. You shake your head and Ezra presses Pete's guitar into your hands.           "You've got to know some songs, Cap,"           "I can't play for shit, and all of you know it except for this kip,"           "Yeah, but we've all heard you sing," says Ezra, "The dropper's not that big. Sing something you want to, and not just whatever you've got stuck in your head while you're running the checklist."           "I hate you, you fucking menace," you say and Ez just smiles, a self assured smirk that will probably land him in the brig again sooner rather than later. You hand the guitar back to Pete. Ezra has put you on the spot, and now Big Pete and Del are looking at you expectantly. Fine.           "I don't know the chords or any of that shit--"           "S'okay boss, you get it started and I'll catch up." You close your eyes and center yourself, your mom and her mom sang these words, some long forgotten time where your people lived down a well, planted crops, when sailing meant traveling over water and not throwing yourself out into the black in a pressurized can.           "'By lonely prison walls           I heard a young girl calling           Michael they are taking you away           For you stole Trevelyan's corn           So our child might see the morn           Now the prison ships lay waiting in the bay...'"

          Later, the coals are low, slow shifting embers, you and Ezra pass the last of Big Pete's bottle back and forth. Del and Big Pete struck out down the beach towards the party tents and the thumping music that leaks out of them.           "You sure you don't want to go with?"           "I've got no interest in all that noise," says Ezra, "Seems like a good way to wake up with your pockets turned out." You laugh.           "Awfully cynical for someone who's barely been out in the black."           "Learned from the best--hey look, the waves!" He points out over the starlit strip of beach and the waves break crested in shimmering blue, glowing foam spat across dark wet sand. You stand and shuck out of your clothes and start running for the surf.           "C'mon Ez,"           "What if someone sees?"           "Who gives a shit?" The water curling around your calves churns electric blue. Ezra strips down and runs towards you, only to get distracted by the way the sand lights up beneath his feet.           "What in Kevva's backroom?" You smile, watching him puzzle it out for himself. Ezra stomps his feet and the wet sand lights up blue.           "It's algae," you say, swirling the water around yourself in luminous curtains, "What? Are you scared, Greenhorn?" And with that Ezra strips down and pelts into the surf, silly in the way men running naked always are, less so when he wraps himself around you and kisses you hard enough to make you whimper, cradles you against him, all hot mouth and seeking hands until a big waves tumbles the both of you into the sand. He lurches up, spluttering, hauling you up, an arm hooked around your waist, pulls you flush against him.           "You knew that would happen."           "I didn't make you get in the water," you say. The waves suck at your ankles, swirls of bioluminescent blue trailing in and out with the tide, "As for the wave? Maybe that was Kevva testing your resolve."           "Hmmph," Ezra says, his breath warm against your sea-chilled lips, his eyes shining with starlight, "If she is testing me, than I am surely failing."           "Ezra?" He nuzzles his nose against yours, his arms vined around you, his hands splayed warm over your skin, and when his lips find yours they taste like salt, breaks away and then nips at your throat where your pulse beats hard and fast and you shiver, arch into him and you feel him hard against your thigh. You step away from him and take his hands, leading him out past the breaking surf.           "Captain?"           "It'll be easier out here," you say, press your lips to the shell of his ear, "Trust me."

          The water is warmer than the air, the breeze blowing over it raises gooseflesh on your exposed skin, but the places where your bodies press together burn hot, Ezra's hands gripping as he slides inside you, smooth roll of his hips with the rhythm  of the waves. He cradles you against him one hand on your hip to guide your movements, the other splayed warm between your shoulder blades, and this gentle ocean holds you both, making you buoyant, glowing algae flaring with your movements, sparkling on your skins like a mirror for the stars. You come with a strangled cry, swallowed by the low roar of the surf, and Ezra follows, head thrown back, cords of his neck painted in star shine, blooming hot inside you. You cling to each other, panting, you feel his chest heaving against yours, and the wind blows cold over the water. Ezra kisses your forehead, soft touch of his lips that never fails to undo you, to make your heart squeeze and stutter inside.           "Lets go get warm," says Ezra.

          The music still thumps loud and ugly from down the strand. Ezra sleeps sprawled on a blanket by what's left of the fire. You set your data pad aside and look at him. He is lovely in the starlight, the arc of the Great Arm spread across the sky. You know you'll get cold sooner rather than later, know you should head back to the tent and wake him up so he can do the same, but instead you shake the sand off a blanket and drape it over him, tuck yourself into his side, the warm weight of his arm enfolding you, pulling you into his chest. You will have to address this rift in your crew, this strain between Del and Big Pete, but for now it is enough to sleep in your lover's arms.

[minimomoe]

Love Bites

You gave Toji Fushiguro a sweet tooth he doesn't want to get rid of.

Baker Fem Reader x Toji Fushiguro (mafia/yakuza au)

word ct: 15.1k, 11 Chapters

Chapters: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI.

Preview: Down the street Toji finally gets in his car and closes himself off from the nipping cold. He glances at the boxes of treats in the passenger seat and wonders what he would do with them. He doubts that Megumi would like them when they meet later today, so he would have to drop them off to the white haired freak he works with. He sighs and looks down at the scalding cup in his hand. He takes a sip and grimaces from the taste. 

“This is liquid fucking sugar,” he grumbles, but he doesn’t stop drinking it slowly through his drive. Toji figures he can continue to go to the bakery until he finally gets something that he likes. 

A/N: Fluff, grumpy x sunshine, found family, a little angsty but nothing too bad, marriage proposal, established relationship, (last chapter only: kitchen sex, creampie, oral- fem receiving)

Keeping my promise and slowly trying to bring my longer fics from ao3 over here. This was a short story that I wrote over the holidays. It's v fluffy and sweet, please enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter One: Apple Cinnamon Spice

“Thanks for stopping by. Tell your mom I said hey, okay?” You watch the young man leave with a box of cookies and wipe your hand clean. You turn away to tend to the oven beeping in the kitchen, placing the hot racks of muffins on the top of the cooling tray to drag out in the front, then grabbing the bottom trays to put in the out on display. Your glasses constantly slip down your nose and you make a mental note to get them tightened 

You move diligently in and out of the kitchen, the door constantly swinging from your movements, and you don't even notice the brooding man who has been watching you on the other side of the counter for at least a minute now. It isn’t until he moves and blocks the sunlight that is pouring in that you notice his presence and jump. 

“Oh my goodness I didn't even hear you come in! Welcome to our bakery! I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” you start, putting on your friendliest smile you can muster up. You push your glasses up again and get a better look at the man. He doesn’t speak, but you notice his sharp features and  the side of his lip that has a scar running through it twitches ever so slightly. 

“I could start you off with our classic double fudge brownies?”

He stares passively at you, making you falter. “Okay, how about our seasonal treats? We have caramel pumpkin cookies! Or how about our maple pecan mini pies?” 

“‘We… Our’,” he says, finally speaking up as you nervously grip the counter. “It’s just you.”

“Is that a question?”

“An observation.”

“Oh.” You take a closer look at the man and see that his hands have scars on them as well. He was dressed in a suit, no tie and had his jacket on, but that didn’t help your imagination to stay rational. Is he a gangster? you think. My god, Ezra, what did you do?

“How about a drink? We have normal coffees, but right now our apple cinnamon spice is the talk of the town!” 

“I’ll take one of each,” he grunts. 

“What?”

“Make it two of each,” his finger points at the display rack and the display at his knees. “Give me everything.” 

“Oh. O-okay. Do you want a drink with that?”

“The one that you mentioned.”

“The apple cinnamon spice latte?” You ask incredulously. 

He grunts again and that’s all the confirmation you were going to get. “Can I have a name for this order?”

“…Toji.”

“Thank you Mr. Toji,” you beam at him and his lip twitches again. “I’ll get your order out soon enough.” 

You quickly gather all his food, making sure to pick the best cookies and sweets you can find but still feel like it wasn’t good enough. You had filled up three boxes with treats before you finally completed his order, and then rushed over to make his drink. 

“Make it real hot for me,” he grumbles behind you. You look over her shoulder and nod, but it doesn’t get another response out of him. You ring up his order, absently pushing up your glasses, waiting patiently for him to pay. He hands you a roll of cash and your eyes widen in surprise. 

“That’s way too much, sir. You only owe me 61.75.”

“Share it between you and whoever is supposed to be here with you.”

“It’s just me,” you grimace. “I can’t accept this. However, I can take $61.75.”

Toji stares you down and you can feel your resolve crumbling beneath his gaze. Despite having green eyes, Toji’s were dark and unwavering. You weren’t sure how long you were stuck in his staring contest but he finally relents and hands you a single one hundred dollar bill from the roll. 

“Can you break this then?”

“Yes! Yes, I can do that,” you grin and hand Toji back his change, your fingers slightly brushing over his own. 

“So cold,” he murmurs and his eyes flicks to yours. Toji takes in the roundness of your face, your big brown eyes that seemed even bigger through the lenses, your full dusty pink lips. Your hair was held in a low bun under a hair net, but he would see a few curls springing through the holes, vying for escape. 

“Hmm?”

“My order?” He juts his chin out to the boxes and you scramble to get them for him. 

“Right. Sorry! Please, come back soon!” You wave him goodbye as he leaves, watching his broad frame disappear into the street. When you can no longer see him you release a deep breath, deflating behind the counter, all the stress from the interaction leaking out of you. 

“I really hope he doesn’t come back again,” you whisper to yourself, but you only have a moment before somebody else walks into the store and your smile stitches itself back on your face. 

Down the street Toji finally gets in his car and closes himself off from the nipping cold. He glances at the boxes of treats in the passenger seat and wonders what he would do with them. He doubts that Megumi would like them when they meet later today, so he would have to drop them off to the white haired freak he works with. He sighs and looks down at the scalding cup in his hand. He takes a sip and grimaces from the taste. 

“This is liquid fucking sugar,” he grumbles, but he doesn’t stop drinking it slowly through his drive. Toji figures he can continue to go to the bakery until he finally gets something that he likes.

Chapters: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI.

[worgjen]

Dark Side AU

Imperial inquisitor Cal Kestis tracked down young Jedi apprentice Ezra Bridger. There was only one thing he didn't expect: Ezra was now a Sith apprentice.

[tobytost]

reading new dawn gave me a new perspective on all of those "Kanan finds Ezra early" AUs

disfunctional grumpy scared of commitment young adult Kanan & scared angry clingy 7 year old Ezra now THAT is an AU

[twinsunstars]

What if the Imperials Were the Rebels?

So I was thinking about if Star Wars had a “What If?” series like Marvel does, and I starting thinking about how some characters part of the Empire would be the rebels in another universe. I found it pretty interesting (and Star Wars should really do a “What If?” series), so here are my own versions of what roles I think the Imperials would play if they were the ones fighting in the Rebellion (and Palpatine is still Palpatine). (I didn’t include Kallus because he did defect to be a rebel in canon, so in my AU he would possibly remain an Imperial, as this focuses more on people who never defected and stayed loyal in the canon universe.) I’ll discuss just a few characters below and my thoughts on them.

Feel free to let me know your own thoughts and ask about any Imperial characters I didn’t discuss! I'll write small fics for them one day!!

Darth Vader: He would remain Anakin Skywalker in my AU, helping to lead the rebellion. Also being one of the Jedi part of the Rebellion, he helps to fight against the Inquisitors and lead the Rebellion towards the right path. The Empire had taken his master, padawan, son, and daughter away from him years ago and had assassinated the love of his life; he would do anything to bring them down. Is also one of the strongest pilot fighters the rebellion has.

Wilhuff Tarkin: I imagined Tarkin as like an individual similar to Commander Sato from Rebels and General Dodonna from the original trilogy/Rebels. He leads one of the main rebellion fleets and is highly respected as a commander. Was offered a position in the Empire but had immediately refused in its early days, not wishing to serve under this new regime. Has led many of the rebel attacks against the Empire with many success rates.

Thrawn: As a general and a pilot fighter in the rebellion, Thrawn leads one of the powerful squadrons in the rebellion. Often comes up with many of the attack strategies when preparing for an ambush, and is ready to command and attack when the Empire gets a level up on them. Often feuds with Hera Syndulla, one of the most powerful admirals and TIE fighter pilot in the Empire.

Orson Krennic: An engineer and a rebel commander, Krennic has helped design many of the weapons and starfighters the rebellion uses against the Empire. Has led many rebel fleet attacks while stationed in the base, helping to direct the fleet to their target.

Inquisitors: I viewed them as the Jedi of the Rebellion, as characters like Ezra, Kanan, Cal, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, and other Jedi alive during this time would be the Inquisitors. They would be spread around in the galaxy, continuing to help keep up the fight against the Empire and protect young Force-sensitives from the hands of the Inquisitors. Have all met Anakin Skywalker and would follow him into battle any day.

Morgan Elsbeth: I felt like thinking about her and how she would potentially fit into this AU, as she did basically design those TIE fighters that Thrawn adores so much while she worked inside the Empire, as seen in Tales of the Empire. Morgan would be an engineer like Krennic, focusing her designs primarily on the starfighters for the rebellion to help them succeed. Has worked with Thrawn and designed the fighters for his squadron, watching the fight from the ground. The Republic was responsible for the execution of her native people, and now that it had become the tyrannical Empire, her only wish was to destroy it.

Edmon Rampart: I based this off some of the theories I would read about Rampart potentially becoming like Kallus and turning around to become a rebel, but we saw where that went lol. I see Rampart as one of the rebels part of the Alliance who had escaped the Empire after being caught by Hera Syndulla, conveying a lot of important information to the rebellion while remaining in an Imperial position. He has helped lead many rebel attacks and add successful strategies in the fight.

Royce Hemlock: You may be thinking, how does someone like Hemlock become a rebel? When I was thinking about this AU based off his skills and use to the Empire, I thought of him as being a lead medical doctor in the rebellion and partly an engineer, using his skills for healing and designing useful assets and weapons for the rebellion to take advantage of. Had not gotten expelled from the Republic Science Corps in this AU, but was forcefully kept in a secret facility for Palpatine’s wants after the fall of the Republic, and managed to escape. Not much of a direct fighter but knows how to handle a blaster, would rather stick to the base instead of being up with the pilots, but would do anything to make sure the Empire meets its demise.

Eli Vanto: A commander of another rebel fleet, and Thrawn’s partner in many of the rebel attacks and strategy meetings, Eli is respected for being the one to find out many of the Empire’s secrets through his spies scattered around the galaxy and his own aspirations to perform deep research into the Empire’s hidden goals. Used to only be a minor commander in the rebellion until Thrawn took note of his skills and Tarkin found him worthy of promotion to do more for the rebellion’s military.

let me know your thoughts and hopefully you found this interesting!

[halofaxu]

my pseudoHTTE/imperial AU— thrawn adopts a young, orphaned ezra and enlists him as his personal skywalker boy. he gives ezra his orders and lessons, teaching him true patriotism, and the lothal son of man is groomed to sit at the right hand of power.

as an adult, ezra obediently serves thrawn, now emperor, commanding his army and establishing a Pax Romana of glory & culture in the galaxy. although thrawn is icy and manipulative, he is kind and beautiful (to everyone except ezra, look, listen, but don’t touch sexuality)

[flyndragon]

I really want to write an AU where Ezra travels back in time - specifically de-aged and sent back to Obi-wan's time on Melida/Daan.

Because even though this is a super shitty situation Ezra's kinda... thriving? Like all of this is so firmly in his wheelhouse its funny.

Ezra's been living on his own starving and stealing since he was 7. He's being doing guerilla warfare for most of his adolescence. As soon as this boy joins the cause it's hell. Every adult is getting mind-tricked. The young are now stealing everything that is not nailed down. Ezra's connecting with any local megafauna to cause distractions. He's teaching 'child soldier 101 classes'.

And emotional support too! Comforting kids mourning their dead parents? That was just his own character arc! Comforting kids whose parents are warmongering assholes? That's just Sabine's thing! A jedi that doesn't believe he's worthy of being a jedi? Kanan.

idk if obi-wan would be a little scared of this war kid or think he's the fucking coolest padawan obi-wan's ever met in his life. Lets say the latter because its funny to me if they're both kinda obsessed with each other. Ezra definitely hears the whole story of how Obi got to the planet and is 2000% on His Side immediately. Ezra is complimenting Obi-wan constantly cause he canonically can't shut up and obi-wan is blushing so hard All of the Time.

Anyway, when the war ends Obi-wan and Qui-gon bring him back to coruscant with them to present him to the council, ect. ect.

Ezra is conflicted about whether he even wants to join the order officially as a padawan. On one hand, it would be really nice to have actual traditional jedi training. On the other hand he really is going to have to do several high profile murders sometime in the next decade? two decades?, and doesn't know if the jedi should be connected to him lol.

[erodasfishtacos]

Always Have Your Back

prompt: YN is struggling with her self-image and Harry reassures her she’s perfect ❣️

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-

YN hadn’t been feeling good lately, well really for quite a few months now about herself, her body image, and that’s something she struggles with on and off but not like this.

After giving birth to four very healthy big babies, her body has changed and has been slow to bounce back each time - luckily she’s young and it may be easy than women older than her but still.

It was really her stomach and breasts that had her self-conscious, a bit of plush around her lower tummy where she carried during her pregnancy, and her breasts weren’t as perky from feeding four children.

Ezra was almost a year and while YN was close to her pre-pregnancy weight, she wasn’t quite there, and the pudge around her midsection wasn’t budging either from where the babies sat for so long.

It was difficult because there were always eyes on her, even though she herself wasn’t necessarily famous, she was famous through association because her husband was the best player in the major leagues.

She was photographed when she went to the grocery store, the nail salon, out for lunch with Anne and Gemma and she hated seeing herself in paparazzi pictures on Instagram lately.

Harry, who is undyingly attracted to her, makes it clear nearly daily that he’s in love with her plush, her stretch marks, her breasts, and every other inch of her.

YN has no doubt that Harry loves her no matter what her body looks like but she also can’t help but have negative thoughts about not being perfect like other women she sees on social media.

Especially when her husband was a professional athlete, his body was always in prime shape, with barely any fat on his body - he was always lean and muscular, never had an issue with working out sometimes twice every day.

It gets really out of hand one day.

YN is out to lunch with about eight other baseball wives at a fancy little restaurant in the heart of Manhattan for lunch.

As she’d gotten in her dress this morning, after Anne came over to watch the kids, and she felt devastated when it didn’t look as good as she thought it would on her.

She hated the way the material hugs at her hips and accentuated her midsection, and she hates to admit that she looked in the mirror and cried because she felt so unhappy with herself.

At lunch, all the wives were dressed meticulously in designer outfits that fit every inch of their body like a custom glove, hair, and makeup professionally done.

These women were different from YN, most of them had kids but just one or two, and a lot of them used surggates because they didn’t want to ‘ruin’ their body.

They also had full time nannies and au paires to watch their children while they spent time with self-care, working out.

It’s not that she’s jealous, hell, her husband is the highest paid player in the league - she could easily afford nannies, chefs, maids, but that’s not what she wanted for her children or herself as a mother.

It didn’t mean it wasn’t hard when she sits down with all of them, trying not to focus on the way her stomach looks when she sits down, and constantly adjusts her nursing bra - she was full from not nursing Briar since before she left.

The lunch was fine at first but then one of the wives, who was notoriously bitchy to YN and has tried multiple times to hit on Harry, and become enraged when he didn’t give her the time of day - started focusing her energy on YN.

“I know a really good personal trainer to help you get rid of the baby weight,” Kelsey tells her in front of everyone, a wide fake smile on her face as she blinks her lashes, “After four kids, it doesn’t seem to be coming off as easy, huh?”

YN blinks harshly for a second, trying to reign back the tears, and hoping another woman will come to her defense.

Tiffany speaks up but it’s only to add, “Yeah or if you want a recommendation to a plastic surgeon. There’s a great one that does mommy makeovers.”

YN can’t help it, she feels her vision becoming blurry with tears as they keep chatting about working out and mommy fucking makeovers like they didn’t just viciously insult her.

When her salad arrived in front of her, she didn’t feel hungry anymore, and just wanted to leave - this is the part she hates about her husband’s career and it’s not even his fault.

The jealous vapid bitches.

YN makes up an excuse that one of her kids isn’t feeling well and so she has to leave, paying quickly and getting into her car as fast as possible.

She hates that she cries the whole way home because she loves her babies so much, she would give her body up again and again for them but sometimes it just hurt.

She was still human who cared what other people thought, worried about being judged, it was part of the human experience.

YN tries to pull herself together before she goes inside, wiping her mascara off her cheeks, and brushing through her hair with her fingers.

She doesn’t feel like being a parent today, she wants to lay in bed and just be sad but she has four little humans who need her every second of the day and they’re more important than her moping.

Anne’s face gives away her concern when YN comes in, kissing each one of her children before disappearing upstairs to take off her makeup, change into a baggy shirt and cotton shorts before throwing her hair into a bun.

She holds her dress, in anger, she throws the expensive dress straight into the trash bin in their bathroom - it didn’t matter that it cost thousands, she never wanted to see it again.

Anne insists that she can stay to help but YN kindly declines, stating that she was okay, and didn’t need anything but appreciated it.

YN doesn’t know that Anne calls Harry, just to let him know that his wife seemed upset and wasn’t her usually bubbly self.

He automatically calls his wife, relieved when she answers but her tone is dull and hiding something, “Hi mama, you feeling okay? How was the lunch?”

“It was…uh, it was good,” YN hesitates and Harry can tell she’s not being truthful but doesn’t know why, “I’m just a bit tired, I guess.”

He didn’t have enough time to confront her because one of the coaches was calling him back into the field to continue.

“I’ll be home as soon as practice ends. I love you,” He reassures her, “The best mama and wife. You know that?”

YN’s voice sounds shaky when she responds, “I know.”

💗

When Harry gets home from practice, all the kids are settled in the living room watching a movie while YN cooked dinner - Briar was in his little swing in the kitchen with her, sleeping soundly.

“Hi mama, smells delicious,” Harry hums as he enters, after greeting all of his babies, and stepping over to stroke Briar’s cheek, “I was craving spaghetti, s’like you read my mind. I hate having weightlifting and practice in the same day. M’craving carbs.”

“Yeah, haven’t had it in a while,” YN replies a bit blandly, stirring the homemade sauce and not making an effort to look back at him.

“You cross with me? Have I done something?” Harry asks as he walks up behind her, kissing her shoulder and nuzzling at her neck - she wasn’t usually this distant unless he’d made a mistake.

“No,” She sighs, trying not to be frustrated but when she turns around he’s just in his shorts, his muscles rippled over his front, his abs twitching when she touches them and she was just so, “I was just thinking, will you help me work out?”

Harry’s brow furrows in confusion, his hands coming to cup hers and being them up to kiss them, “What like train you?”

YN shrugs, struggling to make eye contact, “Yeah, I can wake up in the morning with you and work out before the kids get up.”

He doesn’t seem sold by the idea, the playfulness in his tone dropping, “I get up so days at four am to work out. You need all the sleep you can with these four wild ones. Sleep is more important. Where’s this coming from?”

YN knows she’s being irrationally mad at him when she snaps, “If you won’t help me then I’ll just hire a personal trainer.”

Harry’s shoulders straighten up, understanding that something’s is definitely going on with his wife today and he needs to get to the bottom of it.

Very rarely did they fight. Very rarely did she snap like that so it was sending off alarm signals that something was very off.

“Why do you need to work out all the sudden?” Harry responds calmly, he didn’t get why she was so dead set on it.

“Harry, why are you acting like you don’t know?” YN raises her voice which was a rare occurrence usually saved for when Harry really fucked up - her jaw actually clenched.

“Because I don’t know what the bloody hell you’re talking about,” He chuckles in disbelief as he leans against the island countertop, “If you want to do that then we can but you’ll feel burnt out if you try to work out on top of having the babies all day and having to breastfeed Briar.”

YN ignores how her eyes prickle with frustration because she’s embarrassed to tell him what really happened today and how she’s been feeling.

He keeps talking, moving closer to her and trying to comfort her, “Plus, you just gave birth. The doctor said it takes nearly eighteen months for your body to fully heal.”

“Drain the pasta, please,” She says instead, looking away from him as she shuts off the knobs on the stove and takes the sauce off the heat with her back turned.

“Will you please tell me what’s going on?” Harry insists as he obliges, pouring the steaming pasta into the strainer in the sink, “I feel like I’m in the dark right now. And I can’t help if you don’t talk to me, mama.”

Just as YN begins to speak, Briar whimpers from her swing before it turns into a full blown wail - YN knows the infant is hungry.

“I have to feed her, will you get them settled with dinner?” She says instead of what she originally was going to but is already walking to unstrap the infant, scoop her up, and disappear out of the room.

Harry stares after her for a moment, he really really doesn’t understand what’s going on because it seems like more than just a bad day which his wife usually doesn’t even have.

And when she does, she typically doesn’t have a problem venting to him about what’s bothering her and letting him help her.

He doesn’t know whether it’s something he did or what was the cause of it and it breaks his fucking heart to see her struggling on her own.

That was his wife and it was his duty to take care of her above anything else.

Harry sits the other three down for dinner, serving and cutting up all their little plates of spaghetti and garlic bread.

“Where’s mama?” Ezra squeaks as he looks towards the kitchen expecting her to come out, she was never not at the dinner table.

“She’s busy with Briar, bubba,” Harry simpers as he cuts his pasta into more bite-sized mouthfuls before doing the same for the other two.

“I want mama to sit next t’me,” Cash announces as he anxiously waits to, barely focused on his food but more so wondering when his mom will come in.

When YN reappears a few minutes into dinner, Briar is calm and just looking around from where she’s nestled in a sling on her chest - suckling a binkie as she blinks heavily.

Harry notices that she doesn’t eat her dinner, just pushing the pasta around her plate without every really consuming any.

“Not hungry?” Harry asks softly as the kids giggle with spaghetti sauce smattered all over their cheeks and lips.

YN just shrugs and doesn’t answer him directly, distracts herself by taking a napkin and wiping of Ezra’s face as he tries to whine and wriggle away.

The rest of the night goes by quickly, only an hour and a half after dinner the kids are all getting their baths and getting tucked into bed - even Briar is in her nursery, fast asleep.

After making sure all the lights are turned off downstairs, Harry enters the bedroom to see YN closing the bathroom door - a clear sign that says don’t bother me.

Usually, the door is open so Harry knows that he can join in and share the shower with her before they wind down for bed.

That’s the typical routine every night.

He throat feels tight, a bit of anxiety settling in his chest because everything just feels off tonight, and he wants his wife to be happy and she just isn’t right now.

While he’s waiting on the bed, he decides to snag the laptop off the side table, and answer some business emails because he is letting anxiety build up enough in his chest it feels tight.

When he pulls up the browser, his brow furrows at the websites that are already pulled up and he does not like what he sees.

*‘Dr. Regallee - Mommy Makeovers Manhattan*’

‘What is a Mommy Makeover? Boobs, Butt, and Belly. All You Need To Know’

‘How To Lose Weight Post-Partum - 15 Calories Burning Tricks for New Moms!’

‘Recovery Time for The New Trend - Mommy Makeovers’

Now it makes sense.

The request to start working out, the personal trainer, the “Harry, why are you acting like you don’t know?”

He doesn’t know because every time he looks at his wife, he’s so fucking enamored and so fucking attracted to her that he goes stupid.

Her body is a fucking masterpiece that he would worship every second of the day, he loves it for a milllion different reason.

The body that housed all of his chunky babies that she’s grown to eight and nine pounds each time, coming out healthy and ready to thrive because her womb helped them develop so perfectly.

He doesn’t know what triggered this.

Occasionally, she’ll need a bit of reassurance that she looks good in an outfit or that she’s beautiful which he does everyday anyways.

She doesn’t get a minute to doubt Harry is attracted to her because he’s constantly trying to get in her pants.

It takes him half a second flat to get hard for her which she even will tease him about how easy he is for her.

Harry knew she must see herself differently because her body really didn’t look that different from before she had any babies back in college.

Sure, her chest was bigger right now because she was breastfeeding and her belly had a bit of skin from the amount it stretch during pregnancy but Harry would still be head over heels with her even if her body looked completely different after babies.

Harry can’t stand to think of her left alone in that shower without support, he tries the knob, and thankfully it’s not locked.

His brow furrows when he notices a pretty dress bunched up and shoved into a small waste basket - something YN typically wouldn’t ever do.

He’s shucking off his clothes and stepping into the shower, YN knows he’s there but she doesn’t move or react - her head is down and letting the hot water pour over her.

“Mama,” Harry murmurs carefully, turning her around and tugging her straight into his chest with firmness.

It makes his own eyes prick with tears when she begins sobbing into his chest, shoulders shaking, and she lets herself lean on him.

“I’m s-sorry,” She stutters out against his damp skin, “I shouldn’t have treated you like that earlier and it wasn’t fair.”

“Ssh,” Harry titters because that���s the last thing he cares about, “Mama, why on earth would you be looking up plastic surgery? You’ve never mentioned that before.”

YN shakes her head, keeping her face nuzzled into him, and telling him, “I still have a pouch of skin on my stomach, my tits aren’t as perky from the kids.”

“Has this been bothering you for a while?” He asks, wondering if he missed earlier signs she was struggling.

YN blinks up at him, sniffling and saying, “No, I-it really hasn’t. You always make me feel attractive. It’s, well, today just wasn’t good.”

Harry’s hand wanders down to palm at said pouch of skin and YN watches his facial expression carefully as he pets her.

“I don’t want you to regret the babies,” Harry whispers sadly, “I know you’ve sacrificed your body to give us kids and I have so much respect-“

“Hey, look at me,” YN moves her hand to his chin until he’s gazing a her, “Never ever do I regret having our children. I would destroy my entire body to make sure we had all of them. I-I normally love my body, what it has done, and how strong it is.”

“Then what brought this on the ?” He continues to caress her skin, her belly, the curve of her breasts, her sides, everywhere.

“It’s-I know it shouldn’t bother me,” YN’s sighs but it’s shakily with tears, getting upset again as she explains, “I went to lunch, you know? With the other wives and Kelsey made a comment about knowing a good personal trainer to get the baby weight off and then others added in about me looking into getting a mommy makeover.”

“Mama,” Harry huffs, trying too reign in his absolute fucking rage, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry that happened to you today. Those women are jealous miserable twats.”

“They said you’ll turn me in for a younger one,” YN tries to joke but Harry can see right past it as her cups her jaw and kisses her lips once, twice.

“Sweetheart,” Harry murmurs sweetly, “Sometimes I feel like you forget that you’re my person and that I’m only solely attracted to you. Literally not another person on this earth.”

YN giggles because it’s not that she forgets but she still feels normally insecurity.

“Even though my love for you isn’t reliant on your physical appearance, I’m fucking weak at the knees because of it. That little extra belly? I dream of biting it and sucking hickies into it. Your tits? I’ve never seen anything prettier in m’life except for your face.”

“I wasn’t going to really think about getting the surgery,” YN manages to finally crack a genuine smile as Harry’s cock brushes against her hip, hard and wet at the tip.

“If that’s something you really wanted, I would always support you with what you do to your body but I really hope you don’t think I’d ever want you to do that for me,” Harry‘s words end with a hiss when her hand comes to wrap around his length and give him a few tight strokes.

”I’m not sure what I did to deserve such a good husband, hm? The most amazing husband and dad to our bubs,” YN praises against his lips as he leans forward to kiss her but ends up moaning in her mouth when she thumbs over his slit.

”S’you, my love,” Harry slurs, horny and distracted as he kneels down to bite at her belly, sucking in deep bruises where she’s most self-conscious as his fingers dancing around her folds.

”Touch me, H,” YN whines as she slumps against the back wall, his index finger teasing her clit but no friction or pleasure, “Want you in me.”

”Mm, want to taste your pretty cunt first,” He responds, gripping her left leg and tugging it over his shoulder so she’s exposed, his fingers coming to part his folds to show where she’s puffy and wet for him, “Look at her, so fucking sexy.”

YN weaves her hand into his hair, pushing him towards her center and he goes willingly, lapping wide stripes from her back entrance to her clit, nipping at the hood before repeating it over and over again.

”Oh, I-fuck, m’coming,” YN tries to warn as he legs begin to shake but her words make him pull back and stand up, “Wha-“

”You’re gonna come on my cock,” Harry leaves no room for agreement as he lifts that leg again but now around his waist, his tip bumping at her entrance, ”You want me in? Want my cock? Tell me, sweetheart.“

”Harry,” She groans in frustration as the smooth tip teases her bud, “You know I want it. Want you to fuck me, c’mon.”

”Impatient,” He scolds but he’s guiding himself on, moaning loudly when he slides all the way into her warm heat, ”love the way you squeeze me. Give me it to me.“

YN doesn’t have to do much work, Harry’s thrusting into her at a harsh pace off the start, honestly they’re fucking like they’re still newly dating when they’re married with kids.

They know they’re on a limited time because one kid will need them and Harry is wasting no time in getting them both to topple off the edge.

-

As they’re drying off, the baby monitor begins to go off - signaling the Briar’s beginning to cry, she’s most likely hungry.

”I’ll go get her,” Harry says with a kiss to her cheek, ”Go get in bed and get comfortable. I’ll be back after I feed her.”

YN does change into her pajamas and crawls into bed but after a while, she doesn’t know where Harry is and starts to worry.

She slips out of bed and pads down to the nursery where the rooms empty, then down the stairs to the kitchen - empty, then she hears his voice echoing quietly through the hallway.

YN follows it until she’s at their office, the door crack, and she peeks in - Harry’s just in a pair of shorts, Briar cradled in the his arms - she’s suckling hungrily at the bottle he’s holding to her lips.

He has his cellphone tucked between his shoulder and ear, his face stoney and annoyed, “No. I am not calling to discuss the game tomorrow. I’m calling to discuss that your wife was completely out of line at lunch this afternoon.”

YN listen as Harry chews out his teammate for how his wife acted at dinner and how it was absolutely unacceptable and he better make sure nothing like that ever happens again.

YN can hear the man profusely apologizing for the embarrassing behavior of his wife but Harry doesn’t entertain it, only reminds him to talk to his wife and hangs up.

Harry is then looking down at his daughter, blinking up at him as she pats his face, and he coos, “Briar Anne, always going to stand up for your mama. Always going to show you how someone should treat their partner. “

YN turns around to go back upstairs, smile on her face, and tears in her eyes - it made her silly for feeling self conscious.

He always had her back.

[jely-bely]

Baby Luke and Baby Ezra

[jessicas-pi]

📓📓📓

So originally I was gonna do 3, but this one got REALLY long, sooo....

May I present the Jedi Get Hitched AU?

I posted about it once before here (and it got FANART!!!!) but other than that I haven't said much of anything else, soooo... here's more! and it's ENORMOUSLY self-indulgent.

The basic premise of the AU is that the clone wars end happily except the clones don't have rights but the Jedi find a loophole that will make them recognized as sentient citizens if one of them marries a Jedi, cue Aayla kicking open the door to the jedi council with bly in tow like I VOLUNTEER

ANYWAY. bly and aayla get married (they both freak out about it and Fox and Quinlan respectively have to give them pep talks before the wedding.) All seems well... and then Anakin saunters into the Jedi Council room one day and brings up that now that they're getting married (it was a one time thing, skywalker--) NOW THAT THEY'RE GETTING MARRIED, maybe they should consider that perhaps it would lower political tensions if a Jedi married, like, a senator or a planetary ruler or something. and the council is all like 🙄 skywalker we know this is just about you and senator amidala and he's like what??? haha no, i was talking about obi-wan and duchess satine. but while we're on the topic, i could definitely marry senator amidala too. she just adopted those twins and i could help raise them. they're force-sensitive, what a crazy coincidence amiright?? and plo and shaak are just lowkey planning their wedding and subsequent adoption of All Their Sons and mace. mace wants a break. please.

fast forward in time. Several more jedi have gotten married. Mace has retired from the council, citing "an excess of tomfoolery and nuptials" as his reason. Anakin married Padme, Obi-Wan married Satine and they officially adopted Korkie as their son, and Quinlan Vos and Asajj Ventress got married. Vostress is also currently running a jedi-nightsister exchange student program...

...which is how Merrin, 16 and slightly awkward but eager to learn more, ends up in the Jedi Temple, with a few other Nightsisters, though they're all a few years younger than her. Cal is assigned to give them the tour.

"Welcome to the Jedi Temple!" he says, holding one hand out to her and the other hand waving around them, indicating basically the whole jedi temple. it's supposed to be just a gesture, but then Merrin puts her hand in his. Completely seriously. Cal is like "...okay" and they hold hands for the rest of the tour.

Five years later, there is a second jedi-nightsister wedding.

Jocasta is delighted at the number of records being set within her lifetime.

(Jocasta is also officiating all the weddings, btw.)

A couple years after Mace resigns from the council, he decides to plan a shatterpoint lineage family vacation. So Mace, Depa, Grey (who is an unofficial part of their family), Caleb, and Caleb's brand-new Padawan, 11-year-old Ezra (who is pretty young to be a padawan, but he was following caleb around all the time anyway so caleb figured he might as well just make the apprenticeship official), all pack up... and go to Ryloth.

Caleb, who twenty-five at this point, promptly gets his first crush.

Mace Regrets This Vacation. He's actually started seeing marriage Shatterpoints. Depa and Grey, meanwhile, think it's really really funny that Caleb gets flustered around Hera, and Ezra has made more than a few insinuations about political alliances via marriage. Depa warns him that Caleb will get his revenge, but Ezra dismisses it. (Said revenge does come about, several years later, in the form of Caleb asking if Madame Nu needs to prepare to officiate the second Jedi-Mandalorian marriage in recorded history. Ezra kicks him in the shin. smh padawans these days just have NO respect for their masters.)

Ezra highly encourages Caleb to marry Hera.

It does not take much convincing.

[violetjedisylveon]

Smol Ezra Werewolf AU

New AU! Well, it's part of my whole Loth-Werewolf AU, I just really wanted to start writing the bit with a little puppy Ezra, so, I did that. This takes place ~10 before rebels.

Ao3 link, About The AU

Chapters:

A Secret Guardian (chap 1/prologue maybe?)

Sackaberries and Weird Stormtroopers (chap 2)

Trouble (chap 3)

Art:

Coming eventually...

Character Designs:

Wolf Ezra, coming eventually

Kuniya(oc), coming eventually (I'm a busy person alright, got lots of stuff to draw)

[fandom-friday]

Thank you so much to everyone that submitted recommendations this week! A comprehensive list of this week’s submissions can be found under the cut! Recommendations are organized by show/media, and any main pairings will be listed after the title.

🌿 = 18+ content 🟢 = contains spoilers of a currently running show

Fics:

The Clone Wars: 🌿 In Command (Captain Rex x OC Senna Aven) by @wild-karrde Vacation (Hawk x gn!Reader) by @rinwritesfics The Chase by @kimiheartblade (art by @mire-draws-things) The Ties That Bind Us by @saggitary

The Bad Batch: 🟢 (TBB S3) The Plant Prowler of Pabu (Crosshair x gn!Reader) by @dystopicjumpsuit 🟢 (TBB S3) The Phee Fall Manuever (Tech x Phee Genoa) by @eclec-tech The Only Exception (Captain Howzer x OC June Kiore) by @starqueensthings Magnetic Pull by The_Absent_Minded_One (AO3) Art of War by moxibustion (AO3)

The Book of Boba Fett: 🌿 Biscuits and Beskar (Boba Fett x OC Kaylee Manu) by @marierg

Star Wars Original Trilogy: Endless Blue Skies by SquidWonder (AO3) Stretching Out Your Arms to Something That's Just Not There by SquidWonder (AO3)

Batman: Butler, Father, Assassin, Spy by cabezas_de_vaca (AO3) The Birds: Hatching Family by @oceanera12 Come One, Come All by @incogneat-oh

Young Justice: A Collision of Masks by movaz (AO3)

My Hero Academia: By Any Other Name (Dabi x Hawks) by @satelliteblue

Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Matchmaker of Your Dreams (Miranda Gardiner x Sherman Yang) by TheAmazingMaddy (AO3) Longing to Linger (Clovis x Pollux) by hehkhatea (AO3) It Feels Like We Have the Same Wounds by lingeringlucidity (AO3) The Clew Chronicles! by IzzyInk13 (AO3) Weezl's Riordanverse Drabbles by WeezlBot (AO3)

Art:

The Clone Wars: Frog-O-First Battalion by @mwolf0epsilon Commander Fox Art by @nikscribbles 🌿 Jesse Art by @for-the-sake-of-color Captain Rex in Casual Clothing by @saga-ordsmed Aayla Secura Art by @ddeck Girls Night by @cobaltbeam

The Bad Batch: The Bad Batch Art by @eso-terrors Tech Art by @local-cryptid 🟢 (TBB S3) Behind the Mask by @gorlicberd Crosshair Art by @clonemedickix 🟢 (TBB S3) Hunter and Crosshair Art by @queddadraw Hunter Art by @corukant

Rebels: Rebels Comic by @tyquu

The High Republic Series: Avar Kriss Art by @nataliabdraws

A Court of Thorns and Roses Series: Modern Day Elain and Azriel Art by dudledudlesss (Instagram)

Critical Role: Space Pirate AU Fjord Art by @phi-guy

GIF Sets:

Rebels: Ezra Bridger Beowulf GIF Set by @gizkalord