Star Wars Fic Recs Feat. Time Travel

Saving this for tomorrow

LEGO: Monkie Kid - Forged Faith

Chapter 1: Regroup & Rebound

After escaping the clutches of Lady Bone Demon's attack, the Monkie Crew strategize on how to handle their Journey to the West...!

|| Previous Chapter Start || Begin Chapter 1 ||

DP x DC Writing Prompt #5

Damian does not glance back at Bruce when he knocks on the door. Instead they both wait in silence.

After a moment, the door opens.

"Hello," Jasmine, Jazz, Fenton greets politely, unsurprised to find the Waynes on her doorstep. Damian's expression grows ever darker at this revelation.

"Hello Ms. Fenton, are your parents home?" Bruce asks, placing a firm hand on Damian's shoulder, to ground as much as to restrain. To his credit he does not shake it off.

"No, they're out of town for a conference," the eighteen year-old says, opening the door wider. "But I think you'd better come in."

Bruce would normally decline, but Ms. Fenton is a legal adult and he has already, even unknowingly, waited 16 years. Damian makes the choice for him, striding past the threshold.

"Please take a seat," Jazz says as she leads them to the living room. She ignores Damian's swinging head as he takes in the home. It is deceptively large, a 90s style house filled with modern furniture. The walls are bright, with purple and green accents that would normally feel garish but somehow work. The stairs leading to the second floor are lined with family photos that Bruce yearns to take a closer look at. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"No, that's alright, thank you," Bruce says, taking a seat on the long plush couch. A men's windbreaker lies haphazardly thrown across one of the arms. A closed container of Oreo cookies sit on the coffee table next to a physics textbook open to chapter 16, half covered in highlighter and filled with sticky notes. There's a child's painting framed next to the tv, a handprint made to look like a thanksgiving turkey in bright blue.

For the home of experimental scientists, it is cozy and well lived-in.

Damian repeatedly glances at the stairs through the doorway.

Bruce clears his throat. "We were hoping to--"

"I've texted--oh, I'm sorry," Jazz says, having spoken at the same time. Bruce gestures for her to go on.

"I've contacted Danny, he should be here soon. He was out with some friends." Jazz explains. As she hadn't pulled out a phone in their presence, Bruce can only deduce they have some sort of camera at their front door. This also explains Ms. Fenton's complete lack of surprise at their appearance.

"So you know who we are." Damian says, the first words he's spoken since they arrived at the house and the longest sentence he's spoken since they arrived in Amity Park.

"I do," Jazz says, calm in the face of Damian's clearly simmering anger. Bruce trusts him not to attack Ms. Fenton, but he still watches him carefully.

"He told you about me," Damian says. It is the same question, but it is also not.

"He did," Jazz says.

Damian swallows. "I see," he grits out.

Jazz's neutrality slips and her face softens in sympathy. "Damian," she starts hesitantly, but before she can say anything else the front door opens.

A moment later Bruce's son walks through the doorway, and Damian is on him.

This is what Bruce hoped to prevent, but despite his numerous checks of Damian's luggage his son has still managed to smuggle a small dagger, which he now produces and swings in a calculated arc at Daniel Fenton's jugular.

Danny dodges cleanly, and dodges every swipe thereafter in a manner that speaks to continued practice long after his time at the League. Damian is a perfect product of his training, but it is up against Danny his flaws come to light. He is just as good as he always was, but Danny is better.

In a matter of seconds Damian grows frustrated and sloppy in his attacks, completely atypical for him. Danny takes Damian out at the knees and pins him down with one arm, pressing his face into the carpet.

"Calm down," he orders. His voice is deeper than Damian's at sixteen to his twelve, the accent that still traces Damian's words completely gone from his speech. Damian growls and thrusts his head back into Danny's face, meeting it with a sharp thunk. He rolls up as Danny recoils, putting distance between them. Danny glares at him from several steps away, hand to his forehead. Damian tosses the dagger into his other hand as he charges, and to Bruce's surprise Danny does nothing more than turn his face to the side, allowing Damian to draw a sharp line down his cheek.

Damian stops dead in his tracks.

"Are you done?" Danny asks, blood beginning to pool at the seam of the cut.

Damian's expression is stricken, eyes stuck on the blood starting to drip down his brother's face.

"I said, are you done, Damian?" Danny asks. His voice is cold.

Damian hears him this time, and he flushes red. "I--you--"

Danny sighs. He looks at Jazz, whose expression is back to carefully controlled.

"Are you alright?" he asks her. She nods.

"You left me," Damian accuses, standing there holding his bloody dagger limply.

Danny turns back to him, raising an eyebrow.

"You left me," Damian repeats louder, rapidly blinking.

"Yes. I did." Danny provides no excuse nor any explanation. His stance is unyielding.

Damian's eyes bounce wildly, shifting to Jazz and Danny slides smoothly in front of her, protectively. He looks at Damian warily, not as if he is his brother, but as if he is a danger. Damian flinches.

Hope is the last to die, Bruce thinks, watching as that last bit of hope Damian had is extinguished, the knowledge working its way through every inch of his body like ice in his veins. His eyes darken. He turns and runs from the room, the front door slamming shut not a moment later.

Jazz stands up, pulling a few tissues from the box on the coffee table. She presses them to Danny's face, cupping his cheek until he holds it himself. "I'm going to go get the first aid kit," she says gently. It is a thinly veiled excuse to leave them alone, and Bruce is grateful for it as she heads for the stairs.

They both wait until her footsteps have faded, taking each other in. Bruce looks at his mother's eyes and the sharp turn of Talia's nose. Damian's everything, four years older.

"You shouldn't have come here," Danny says, throwing himself on the armchair Jazz has just vacated.

"You know who I am," Bruce says carefully.

Danny glares. "I've kept your secret. She nor my parents know."

"I know," Bruce says. "That's not what I meant. You know who I am. And who I pretend to be. So you know I am familiar with masks."

"And?" Danny asks, looking vaguely bored.

"And so I can recognize when someone is wearing one. Damian will too, once he's calmed down."

Danny's expression sharpens. "No, he won't. Because you are going to go to back to whatever bed and breakfast you're staying in, pack up, hop in your private jet and fly him back to Gotham immediately before the League realizes you've gone. If they haven't already," he mutters.

"This is about the League then," Bruce says. "Do you not believe I can protect you?"

"I don't need your protection," Danny snaps, and watches Bruce actively extrapolate with a dawning resignation. "So this is the World's Greatest Detective at work," he says, slumping bonelessly into his chair, the first teenager-y thing he's done.

"Damian's in danger from the League," Bruce says. Danny glares from his slump. It's almost cute. "And as long as the League doesn't know about you, he's safe."

"Draw your own conclusions," Danny says, baring his teeth. Damian often makes the same face. "As long as you leave."

"I can protect him. I can protect you both," Bruce says. "Let me help you."

Danny closes his eyes. He centers his breathing in an exercise someone has clearly walked him through in the past. Bruce would bet money on the adoptive sister waiting patiently upstairs.

"Mr. Wayne. You are not my father," he says. "My trust in you extends to the point that I left Damian in your care, but that is where it ends. And that was when it was sanctioned by the League. By coming here you have endangered those sanctions."

Bruce disregards the sting, doubling down on his analysis. Talia had left Damian with Bruce well after Danny had left the League. But Danny speaks as if the decision had been his.

Or perhaps, Bruce realizes, it is not that Danny decided upon it, but that Danny allowed it to continue.

Bruce takes a second to review what Oracle had gone over with him before they left for Amity. Daniel Fenton had by all accounts, since leaving the League, lived a fairly normal life. His adoptive parents were eccentric scientists dabbling in the occult but their findings that bordered pseudoscience circulated a very niche community of like-minded eccentrics. The bulk of their income came from alternative energy, a more viable source of study that they'd veered harder into in the past year or so, a government contract with the EPA currently in the works. This had in part funded a vacation to an all-inclusive resort the family had taken that past summer.

Danny received average grades in school, above average in science and mathematics, declining sharply in his freshman year and sophomore year before evening out around the second semester. He had gotten into fights repeatedly with one student in particular, suspended for two weeks following an incident that resulted in a the student receiving a black eye. Teachers reported him to be highly intelligent but distracted and removed. They had recommended he be evaluated for an attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. He had no social media. He had missed multiple picture days. The ones he had attended he was sneezing, or a blur of movement, even going so far as to fall off his stool, legs flailing. Bruce had drank up every last one as Barbara had waited patiently.

A normal life. A family vacation to Bermuda. Average grades.

His freshman year, distracted and removed. The same year Damian had arrived at Bruce's home. Masks upon masks.

"You have informants within the League," Bruce says. Danny, to his credit, has no discernible tell. But there is no other explanation. "What will you do, if they find out you are alive?"

"That is none of your concern," Danny says, but he might as well be saying whatever I have to.

He never stopped practicing, after all.

"If they go after Damian, it is my concern."

"And that is why you need to take Damian back to Gotham before they do." Danny says. "I will take care of it."

Damian had barely spoken since he had realized Danyal was alive. But Bruce had seen the reverence in his eyes as he looked at the file.

"الوريث الصحيح" he had murmured. The rightful heir.

"You are proposing going after the entirety of the League with no backup," Bruce says. "Even if you think they won't kill you, you won't win either."

"Maybe they will," Danny says lightly. "Kill me. That would also work."

Bruce inhales sharply. "Danny," he starts.

"Go home, Mr. Wayne," Danny says, pushing himself up with one hand. The other still clutches the wad of tissue to his cheek, partially soaked with blood. "Go take care of your son."

"I'll go," Bruce says, "I'll take him to the Watchtower. And then I'll come back."

"Mr. Wayne-"

"I should've come for you," Bruce interrupts. "Sixteen years ago. I should've come for you."

Danny's brow furrows. "You had no idea I existed."

"But if I had. I would've come. I never would've left you there. And now that I know, I am not leaving you now."

For the first time Bruce watches Danny be completely caught off guard. He openly gapes at Bruce.

"You would've died," Danny lands on, voice thin. "They would've killed you."

"Unlike you, I would've brought backup." Bruce says, mimicking Danny's lightness.

He's lying. Sixteen years ago he would've thrown himself at the League to save his newborn son without a plan, without a thought beyond rescuing his baby.

Danny barks out a laugh. "You would've laid siege to Nanda Parbat with The Big Blue Boy Scout?" he looks wistful. "That would've been rad."

Bruce sees his opening. "Danny," he stands, eye to eye with his son. "Let me help you."

Danny evaluates him. "The Batman," he says softly. "I didn't want you to come, then. I didn't need one more person I had to prove myself to. All I wanted was to live amongst the stars, in the quiet of the cosmos."

"You want to be an astronaut," Bruce says. At Danny's cocked head, he says without shame, "I read your essay on personal heroes. You wrote about Edward White. Ad Astra Per Aspera."

Danny smiles slightly, sadly. "It is a rough road."

"You can be whatever you want to be," Bruce says. "I won't stand in your way."

"Even if I want to be Danny Fenton?" he asks.

"Even then."

Danny sighs. "I don't need your help Bruce," he says. "No," he says as Bruce opens his mouth. He pulls the wad of tissues away from his cheek. Underneath the splotches of dried blood the gash in his face has cleanly knit itself together, a faint white line now all that remains.

"I don't need your help," he says clearly. He holds a palm forward, and a green fire grows from its center, until the flames are licking delicately up his fingers.

"I know The Batman does not kill. But I am not a Robin. I am something else entirely," Danny says, his eyes reflecting the green of the flames. Or not, as he looks up at Bruce, his eyes green all on their own. They are sad. This is why he stayed away, Bruce realizes. Not out of fear. Danny is not afraid. Danny is tired.

But for his brother, Danny will wake up.

"And If the League takes one step towards Damian, I will raze them to the ground."

I want to read more fics that address his time in Robin training with Bruce and Dick, Jason, and/or Damian find out.

Like, they're all sitting around talking about fun or silly things that happened in training or on patrol with Batman. And Tim is just doing his thing, reminiscing about pictures he took of Dick’s and Jason's Robin, wondering if he could take time off somewhere to get some of Damian's Robin when the others get his attention and ask about funny stories from his time as Robin. He blanks, because nothing with Batman was fun, that was why he was Robin. So he says Lady Shiva getting him ice cream once and leaves.

Or they're going over protocols for Robin to follow with Damian and Tim is just sitting there confused, because it's all stuff he got in trouble for with Batman. And when Dick or Jason tell him that “you can jump in anytime, baby bird”, Tim gets up, leaves, and returns with a surprisingly worn binder he puts down.

Then he opens it, flips to a point about a third of the way through, and turns it to face them. He points at a chart and says, “I made this when the results of your advice weren't what you said they'd be. I didn't know you were supposed to wait 3 days after fear gas exposure to go back out. Bruce didn't wait and if I didn't follow, petty thieves ended up in the ER.”Dick is horrified, Jason and Damian confused. Tim continues. “This binder has the protocols and methods I followed as Robin. I wasn't Robin to contrast Batman's shadow. I was Robin to remind Batman of his morals. I have no advice to offer Damian that is relevant to his Robin. You were offered Robin, one way or another. I had to take Robin before Batman did something he'd regret.”

Someone tries it with Robin and later Nightwing makes an account. The one who tried to make one with Robin is hanging over a rooftop held up only by Hoods mercy with the caption. ‘Baby Bat is a BABY!!!!’ Red Robin is very OBVIOUSLY threatening the guy and Tobin is scowling. Nightwing looks PISSED. Batman is very pointedly looking away from the scene when Red Hood lets the videoer slip slightly.

I feel like there’s a lot of untapped potential with the citizens of Gotham just being completely unbothered by whatever terrible thing is going on in their lives.

Like during a lockdown someone starts jokingly making thirst edits of the local vigilantes running around on the roofs and IMMEDIATELY there’s like a hundred shitty iPhone quality thirst edits circulating social media.

Someone strings together a bunch of clips of Nightwing screaming in frustration, Red Robin face down on the roof of a residential building, and Red Hood slipping on something in an alleyway and eating shit and puts a cover of a really peppy kpop song over it and it goes viral in an hour.

Someone ELSE decides to take a clip of Red Hood literally HUNTING a goon down in an alley (like the goon is literally tripping over their feet and screaming, Red Hood is just walking slowly like a goddamn PREDATOR) and puts “Love Me Like You Do” over it with the caption “how the music makes a difference…” and THAT dominates the news cycle for a week straight.

🔄

Lol I think imma try and write this but IDK

I made another post about Danny and about how the justice league believes that something exists in the ghost zone then that makes it exist, but I had an idea since then.

So as a joke, John and Danny claim to be related. (Jazz, Dan, and Dani get in on it too.)

Batman: ...you have a family.

John: what? You think you're the only one with kids?

Batman: that *points at Dan* is a grown ass man.

Dan: hey dad, Jazz wants to know if you'll pick up some milk from the store, she says we're out.

John: sure, she want anything else?

Dan: nah but Dani wants you to grab some pizza while you're there.

Batman:....

And at some point, they start coming to him with their problems.

Dan needs a place to stay? Johns couch is free.

Danny needs help with schoolwork? John might not know what the answer is, but he'll try and help.

Jazz needs someone to rant to? She'll call John.

Dani needs help dismantling a cult? John will be right there in an hour.

They don't acknowledge it outloud, but if they have a problem John is the first person they think of to call for help.

The ghost zone and it's inhabitants also accept John as the ghost kids parent, like if they say it's true then it must be true.

Then they start changing just a bit.

Their hair gets lighter (closer to blonde) their eyes change by a couple shades, and unknown to them, their DNA changes.

And they don't really notice it...

Until they start developing magic.

And Jazz nearly kills someone with that magic when her breakfast attacks her.

saving for when ao3 returns.

Newscapepro SCP Rewrite, Llama of Love

“Cory!” Dr. Patience said in his incredibly high pitched voice that Cory did not want to hear at 9AM on a Tuesday. “You’re late for your training!”

“Ugh… I’ve been a Private for like a month now, why do I still need to do training?” Cory complained as he leaned on one of the lab tables near a metal safe.

“Because you know basically nothing about Skips after a whole month of being here!” Patience scolded. “Thankfully for both of us this next one is-”

Nikole suddenly barged into the room. “It’s me I’m here, chaperoning again cause Triana’s on a… meeting,” Nikole cleared her throat. “What are we lookin’ at this time, Doc?”

“That’s… what I was getting to,” The Doctor sighed as he opened up the crate, shoved his hands in and placed the two person, sneaker wearing Llama costume on the ground.

“It’s… a Llama costume,” Cory deadpanned. “I think I know why this one isn’t dangerous,”

Doc pinched his glasses. “It’s a lot more than that, anyone who enters the costume will believe that they are Larry the Loving Llama,”

“Oh I guess that’s-

“To the point where they die of dehydration in the suit,” Nikole smirked, having successfully annoyed the Scientist. “Probably should’ve told him that too,”

“I was getting to that!”

“Oh… that’s a lot less cool,”

Dr. Patience sighed again. “Admittedly, yes; we’re still gonna have a couple of D Class demonstrate it,”

“We really don’t treat D Class well here, huh?”

“Eh, they’re all murderers, or arsonists, or forum trolls,” Nikole shrugged. “They get fed better in The Foundation than they woulda in prison anyway,”

Cory looked down and puffed out his lips. “I guess…”

The two D Class walked in, neither was exactly the most scrupulous looking man; in fact one looked like he had just exited a knife fight like 15 minutes ago.

“Alright, for this test I need you two to enter this Llama costume,” Patience smiled. “That is all,”

“This is humiliating,” Mr. Knife Face said as he put on the legs.

“Yeah well, you beat your wife to death with a 2 by 4,” Nikole stared at the D Class.

“Alright, fair,”

Eventually, the two D Class entered the two person’d costume… it sat limp for a short moment and then instantly shot to life; standing up on all fours like a real Llama!

“Well hey there y’all; I’m Larry, Larry the looooooooooooving Llama!” It cheered.

A big smile grew on Cory’s face, no one else’s though. “Wow! I changed my mind this is really cool!”

“I haven’t,” Nikole leaned on one of the tables as she took a swig from her flask.

The Llama jumped in front of Nikole, the shock caused her to drop her flask and spill the contents in the floor “Woah there pal, don’tcha know that drinking is bad for you?” He looked at the multicoloured puddle produced from the flask. “Especially whatever that is…”

“What I do with my time doesn’t concern ya!” She grumbled as she picked up the flask.

Dr. Patience cleared his throat, interrupted the possible argument. “What can you do, Larry?”

“I’m glad you asked random old man! I can dance, I can sing, and I can play all kinds of pranks!”

“Pranks!?” Cory yelped in excitement. “Wait… what if we pranked called Triana right now?”

“Now that sounds like fun!”

“That doesn’t seem like a-”

“Hell yeah!” Nikole cheered as she tossed her phone to Larry. “Do it now, c’mon!”

Triana, the soon to be prankee was sitting inside of a relatively nice cafe across from her girlfriend, wearing the nicest clothes she had (Consisting of an old leather jacket, an old band shirt that she borrowed from Lara and some slacks) as her phone rang.

“Hello?” She exited her lovey dovey conversation with Lara as she put her phone to her ear. “Nikole, you there?”

“Hey, is your refrigerator running?” The Llama asked.

“Wh- Who is this? Who the-”

“Is your refrigerator running,”

“I should kick your fucking ass right now,” Triana gritted her teeth. “Who is this?”

“...Well then you better catch it!” The Llama, along with Cory and Nikole laughed as he hung up.

“Nikole? Nikole you little… ughh…” Triana sighed as Lara walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

“You good, Tri?”

The Lieutenant Sighed. “Yeah, just a prank call,”

“Ugh… coworkers amirite?” Lara shrugged, Triana sighed again; more of a joyful sigh as she looked at her hoodie wearing girlfriend, probably also the nicest thing she had.

“Difference is that my coworker’s lives are in my hands,”

“I’m mission control, Tri, how do you think I feel?” The two women chuckled as Lara went back to sitting; a waiter walked up to the two of them. She had long black hair and brown eyes with somewhat large bags. “Hey, what do you want?”

“Uh… fucken er…”

“Two burgers, one side of fries,” Triana interrupted, then smirked at Lara as the waiter wrote down their order and left.

Lara crossed her arms and pouted. “I would’ve gotten it eventually,”

“Suuure,” Triana rolled her eyes.

“Kinda sucks that we gotta go straight back to work after this,” Lara complained. “I mean shit, we need a vacation at some point!”

“We only get one vacation and it’s-

“Retirement, yeah…” Lara rolled her eyes and chuckled. “God, you sound like The General, dude,”

“I’m back, here’s your food, bye” The waitress placed the plates on the table then left as Triana handed her the money.

“Speaking of The General,” Lara said, a mouthful of fries in her mouth so Triana could barely understand her. “When do you think he’s gonna make us do another mission?”

“Tomorrow, it’s one of the less dangerous ones thankfully,” Triana gave a thumbs up. “Didn’t give me much more information though,”

“Well that’s helpful…” Lara looked down. “Also speaking of uh… not giving information when are we gonna tell everyone else about… us?”

Triana looked Lara in the eyes, the first time she had looked this serious in awhile. The Lieutenant cleared her throat as she finished chewing her food. “S-Soon, I promise this time,”

“Please do, I-I suck at lying you know that more than anyone,”

“Yeah, I just don’t want it to get in the way of any missions, honey,” Triana mumbled.

Lara sighed. “Fair, fair; I just think they deserve to know, Tri,”

“I do to…” Triana stood up and tiptoed over to her girlfriend; planting a quick peck on her cheek. “Love you,”

“Eh, l-love you too,” Lara turned beet red. “I suddenly c-can’t wait to go back to base now… heh,”

“Oh, you dirty little,”

Obi-Wan Kenobi and Jon Antilles are best friends.

We've accidentally met in the room of the Thousands Fountains as children and instantly hit it off.

Obi would get very accurate visions about Jon, so he knows his friend is alright and Jon would sent messages when he could.

That also share an unlikely bond that allows them to see each other and talk, if both of them meditate at the same time.

They make it work. They're very close. Jon is the only one who knows everything about Obi-Wan’s Padawanship and Obi is the one Jon comes to when everything feels too much.

But here lies the problem.

Jon never comes to the Temple.

Ever.

He's just not comfortable.

And when someone asks Obi-Wan who's his best friend and gets 'Jon Antilles' as an answer they don't believe him.

Quinlan thinks Obi-Wan’s joking.

Ahsoka thinks her Grandmaster is just private and is not comfortable with sharing personal information.

Anakin thinks Obi-Wan is just trying to annoy him because obviously he is Obi-Wan’s best friend.

No one thinks Obi-Wan tells the truth.

Because Jon Antilles is such a common name.

There are literally thousands Jons only on Coruscant.

But Obi-Wan doesn't realize they don't believe him. So he just joins in when Anakin jokes about it, let's the clones laugh it up once in a while. He doesn't think anything about it.

And so, one day, Bones comes to the medbay, to check on the General only to find him wrapped around some random guy, sleeping.

Bones stops, his thoughts are something like "Holy hell, there the kark this guy came from? Who the hell is that? And why does the General cuddle him like a favorite plush tooka?" Which he doesn't voice, carefully not to wake the General who's finally sleeping!

The guy, however, is awake and gives Bones an annoyed look. "That's what happends when you give him Kireffon." He says and Obi-Wan swats at his chest in his sleep and mumbles that pillows do not talk.

And Bones is slowly backing away from the room while comming Commander Cody because he is not going to deal with this crap.

And when Cody arrives and before he even opens his mouth the guy goes "Ah, you must be Cody. Obi-Wan talks a lot about you."

Cody doesn't have a clue how to respond to that, and he doesn't have a chance to find out, because Obi-Wan's waking up and looking around sleepily.

"Cody! You're alright!" Obi-Wan cheers with a bright smile. Then frowns. "Who else is alright?"

"Everyone is alright, sir. The only injured one is you." Bones chimes in.

Obi-Wan nods into the guy's chest. "Good."

Cody raises the eyebrow of judgement. "Good? You almost got yourself killed! What were you thinking, opening yourself like that?"

"A rock was going to fall on Crys." Obi-Wan replies slowly. "Crys can't survive a rock that size falling on him. And I like Crys! I can survive a stray blaster bolt. I did it before, Jon, tell them!" He tugs at the guy - Jon's - sleeve and holy hell, is that really who Cody thinks it is?

Jon nods seriously, looking up at Cody. "He did." And Obi-Wan is so happy to get a confirmation, he just beams and then snuggles back to get more sleep because he is comfy.

Jon dissappears the next morning and no one says anything to Obi-Wan once the drugs are out of his system.

But after that Jon just starts randomly dropping by to chat or to give Obi-Wan some new tea he found. He eventually makes friends with the Ghost Company and most of the 212th. He even joins them on some campaigns.

And still no one believes he is real.

Obi-Wan is still oblivious of it but the whole 212th thinks it's hilarious.

They just keep mentioning Jon to their brothers and other Jedi, to see their reaction.

It escalates to the point where Anakin gets fed up with all this Jon-thing and barges into Obi-Wan’s office to tell him to stop.

To find Obi-Wan, Cody and some guy having tea.

"Oh Anakin, come in. I believe you haven't met yet - Jon Antilles, my dear fri-"

"WHAT"

Another day with the 501st

[Anakin underneath his ship doing some maintenance as he hears the distant sounds of chaos]

Anakin: Huh. Maybe I should help with that… nah, Rex usually has it handled. They fear him more than me anyway.

[Rex charges into the hangar, spots Anakin, and wrenches him out from under his ship]

Rex: Help me wrangle our kids or so help me I will get a transfer.

Anakin: … yes, sir.

Fic Prompts: Star Wars Wednesday

Most of the bunker was still standing when the storm finally passed. Rogue Squadron picked themselves up, groaning and cursing and generally despairing of finding their ships, and took stock of the situation. They still had the stolen list of Black Sun’s contacts, and they still had the informant, so that was alright.

Wedge pried open the door and took a deep breath of rain-cleansed air. The clouds had passed, the sun was shining, and….there was a super star destroyer hovering over the city. Wedge grimaced and turned back to the Squadron.

“Luke, your dad’s here,” he sighed.

Everyone groaned.

“Is it too late to feign death until he goes away?” Wes asked.

Luke squinted, then nodded. “Yep. Sorry, guys. I’ll meet you at the rendezvous point.”