The Republic sends a combat photographer to be attached to the 212th until further notice, citing the need for a morale boost. The clones make up a fake clone, citing the absolute fact that it is very funny. Somehow, these two things save the galaxy.

“What?” Rex's voice shades towards alarm. “Cody, that’s a bad idea—” “You can't go,” Cody says reasonably. “You have to monitor communications and make sure the generals have an extraction ready if they need it. Ghost Company’s down half its men right now, so I have the chance.” “That’s exactly the tone you used when you explained why you were overcome with the urge to punch General Grievous in the metal face,” Rex informs him. “Cody, no.”

Not even two days later, Fox revised his opinion. This wasn’t a disaster. This was a Grade-A, first order, fresh off the hot plate fuckfest. Fox’s day had gone something like this: lay in bed. Get up. Knock back some of the sludge in the mess masquerading as caf. Go through forms. Fill out forms. Bust open a closet in which the Senators for Uyter and Kinyen had both managed to get “stuck” in. Go through more forms. Fill out more forms. Get called up to the Senate dome to tell a Senator that no, the Guard did not address noise complaints. Find that the stack of datapads on his desk had somehow tripled over the last two hours. Despair at the state of his inbox. Etcetera, etcetera. And then.

A CPS agent gets sent to investigate a tip that Tim Drake has been abandoned by his parents and is living with the Red Hood. The CPS agent leaves with no Tim Drake, a date with Red Hood's lieutenant, and an intern who's promising to fix the IT systems at his office. It's a weird day for Theo.

When Obi-Wan Kenobi and Mace Windu get a rather insistent Force-vision directing their attention to the Rishi base, the last thing they expect is to find a Force-sensitive clone who may very well change the course of the war. Or: Ghost Company gets five new shinies, Obi-Wan gets a padawan, Cody gets a new perspective on things, and Mace gets a (many) headache.

King's Landing swallows Dornish princesses and chokes on their bones.

Now that he finally has a moment to reflect on what Todoroki told him during the Sports Festival, Izuku realizes there's only one way to take down Endeavor. “Midoriya? It’s half past four in the morning, what the hell do you want?” “Oh, is it really? I hadn’t noticed. Anyway, if I told you I had a way to majorly fuck up your dad in the public eye, would you be okay with it?” He paused in shock that Izuku had sworn. “...Yeah, sure, whatever. Go nuts.” Todoroki hung up.

There’s a hollow thud, a sound like a gong, a war-cry that makes Alpha-17 freeze in his tracks, and Priest goes flying back into the window.

One month after @hawks_unofficial's initial viral post, the blog titled "Quirk Analysis Blog for the Future", otherwise known as "Q. A. B.", has gone from an average of 10 views per post to an average of 20,000 views per post. Midoriya Izuku does not know how to view the impressions analysis for his suddenly popular blog, and only notices that sometimes, people actually comment on his posts now. He does not google himself or his moniker and thus does not see the rise in online articles and speculation. He is unaware that the "kyuu-ei-bee" he begins to hear about in passing refers to his own blog. He does not have a Twitter account. At the time, Midoriya Izuku is 15 years old. Izuku (accidentally) starts a cult.

Aizawa refuses to let his Problem Child travel back in time alone, even to fix a future where All for One was the victor. They go back with a plan that's more of a list, spend a year technically missing, and become rather effective vigilantes that fix some rather serious problems. And then it's time to be found, which seems to primarily result in lots of support and many hugs. Neither Izuku or Aizawa complain very much.

Kaminari walks up to Todoroki in the hallway after class and says, “Dude, I need your help.” Todoroki checks over his shoulder, twice, to verify that Kaminari is indeed talking to him. “Why?” “Yesterday you asked Shinsou-kun if he was Aizawa-sensei’s son,” Kaminari says, as though that explains anything at all. “...yes?” “Make a hero conspiracy YouTube channel with me.”

Shouta’s plan had been ill-defined and desperate from the start, but he figures the important shit boiled down to, “Change as little as possible, make sure Midoriya doesn’t get himself killed, and stock up on lychee jelly pouches because that flavor got discontinued three years from now.” Keeping it simple’s always better, and he’s normally good at improvising. Somewhere along the way, he must’ve fucked up since now he has: A quirkless problem child hanging off of his every word His best friend going through a sexuality crisis thanks to said problem child’s mom His other best friend clinging to him like a security blanket Some two-bit mob boss threatening him with bouquets of daffodils To wring the number one hero’s fucking neck for not telling him anything useful before sending him decades into the past All he did was walk Izuku Midoriya home. It wasn’t meant to turn into whatever mess this is.

For most people, dying and waking up in your eight-year-old body is a second chance at life. For Dabi, it is a chance to make his shitty father’s life a living hell. Or: Dabi sucks at this whole time travelling thing. In his defence though, there’s really not much a kid can do in the grand scheme of things… or so he thought.

Satoru only has two eyes but it feels like he's got six. The doctor says he's blessed to have a one in a billion quirk, but there's a part of Satoru that knows he's only got a fifth of a whole. or The Prison Realm drops Gojo Satoru into the BNHA-verse and that changes things.

If the gods were going to take him away from Cersei and everything he’d known, bind him to a boy half his age, Jaime almost would have preferred it if Robb Stark had been a fool, had been as dull and self-righteous as his father. Seven hells, he could at least have been ugly.

“Can't kriffing believe he sent a Naboo to kriffing Tatooine,” Owen says, too loud, but—they're in the middle of the wilderness. There's no one who’s going to hear him except the Force, and if it does hear him, he hopes it turns around and beats some light-bedamned sense into Obi-Wan Kenobi’s skull. In his lap, fully entranced by the corner of the blanket Owen has him bundled in, Luke coos, beams, and flips his tail. The fancy, flowing, colorful fins slap Owen’s thigh, and he sighs, tugs the bottom of the wrap down to hide as much as he can.

An uncomfortable family supper takes a turn for the worse after a secret is exposed. The King believes a hasty marriage can hold the family together, but how can that sustain peace when one of the grooms hates the other? “When were you going to announce that your second son is an omega?”

Stone was a solid weight, a shield for the Guard as much as he was able, built from the stone that he was named after. And if he didn’t have that, what did he have, in the end?

Sometime between the end of the war and when Fox got shot, Coruscant Guard CMO Basher got their hands on the good drugs. That was the only explanation, really. Someone (Thorn) also made the mistake of giving Fox a datapad.

Waking up two years before their adventure even began was a surprise. The Straw Hats have to find each other again and make their way back to the New World and their dreams. Dealing with younger, weaker bodies and the weight of future knowledge they will find it's not as easy as a simple do-over. Every change has an effect on themselves and on the world. This story will quickly diverge from cannon. It will mix up, move around and ignore entire arcs. These guys are not looking for a boring adventure when they already have answers. What's the point in doing it all the same?

It all comes down to this: the babies in his arms are just so little. “You should sit down, Sir. Let Waxer and I take the tubies for a minute,” Cody gentles. Despite the even, easy tone, despite knowing that it’s Cody and that, as the last twenty-four hours have successfully proved beyond a doubt, Cody would rather die than see any harm come to him, Obi-Wan can’t suppress his immediate reaction to the thought of putting the twins— his twins, his now, and he’ll die before he lets anything touch them—down. “Full disclosure, I don’t believe I am capable of letting go of them, at the moment.” He thinks for a beat and then adds, “Possibly ever.”

“You let me go, I will find a ship and sail away,” Aegon pleaded. “Never to be found.”

Buggy stops at a bar in East Blue and there’s this angry looking kid asking about the Captain. Asking what would have happened if the Captain had a kid. And everyone starts laughing like the idea is ridiculous. Like Roger hadn’t taken in two street rats and given them a home.

Sabo and Koala visit Amestris and take back a souvenir which is fortunate because Ace really needs all the help he can get after his brush with Akainu. Or Ace becomes a merman because of reasons.

Who is the best big brother? Of course it's Ace! (Also: Another day aboard Moby Dick.)

Left with only three other crew mates, it’s a ready expectation that Sanji will start fawning all over Robin in his usual obnoxious way. However, that’s not what happens. Instead, looking wild around the eyes in a way only someone who knows him well would recognize, the cook doesn’t break stride until he’s firmly within Zoro’s orbit and can wrap both hands around his upper arm, clinging tight. “Hi, darling,” he chirps, his expression desperately conveying that Zoro needs to play along under pain of death. “Did you miss me?”

"I'm not paranoid!" Haruta hisses, eyes darting everywhere. "Ace is either the best liar I've ever met, or--well, he's not, because if he was I wouldn't suspect anything, but I do, I suspect he's a spy!" The Life and Times Of Portgas D Ace, Totally A Marine Spy

Anakin wasn’t sure how to ask, so he didn't. Instead, he waited until Master Kenobi fell asleep and stayed up to tinker in the dark, building his own scanner out of parts stolen from the trash. The chip was in his right thigh.

When Obi-Wan Kenobi closes his eyes and lets himself fade into the force, he thinks he'll finally rejoin his fellow Jedi. Instead he wakes up on Stewjon, barely a Padawan's age. Certain he's been sent back to end Sidious, he steals a ship and begins his journey towards becoming capable of killing a Sith Master. It just so happens the ship he steals is Jango's. (Or: Obi-Wan would like to kill the sith and save his people. The Mandalorians are just trying to keep up.)

“Commander,” High General Windu says, brows raised in suspicion. “This is the Chancellor’s office holo, is it not? May I speak with him?” Fox stares at the general, and then down at the black smudge on the floor where Palpatine’s body used to be. Slowly, subtly, he shifts so he’s standing on top of it. “Uh,” he says. “…No.”

“Are you all the Council sent, then?” Bo-Katan asks, swinging one leg over the speeder’s seat. Her voice is raspy, and Cody wonders if it’s from smoke inhalation. “Considering they wouldn’t help with the first Sith, I guess I should be glad for any help at all with the second.” It's the first time he's heard someone use that word to describe Kenobi, and he bristles. “We’re not here on behalf of the Council, Miss Kryze. We're here for our general.” Or: Everyone has a breaking point. That includes Obi-Wan. That includes Cody.

The clones were supposed to be identical soldiers, flawless and efficient products. Instead, they were friction, disorientation, nonconformity. Or, As Kafer writes, ‘Disability too often serves as the agreed upon limit to our projected futures.’ This is me imagining different.

Fox has seen many things seized during raids. Illegal weapons, Spice and other assorted of banned drugs, slaves, carnivorous beasts trained for the fighting rings, the list goes on. Nothing prepared him for finding beskar among the crates of contraband and bad life choices.

Mando’ade were personally offended by their existence on all fronts, and it didn’t matter what faction. Kyr’tsad hated Jango, the Haat Mando’ade hated what the clones meant for them, and the New Mandalorians hated war and all its pieces. The last thing Fox needed was another shipment of empty, bloody plastoid delivered to the bricks. There really was no telling which one sent the package. A whole squad. Gone. Fox hoped they were dead. Anything else was too painful to think about. Or; Fox finds a huge cache of beskar. The potential ramifications of this do not escape him. And then a new faction of Mandalorians arrives on Coruscant. Fox decides he's too tired to deal with this shit anymore.

“It’s not a quirk,” Izuku tells the poor sod, who looks like he needs to catch up on four years of sleep and has been combating that fact with caffeine pills and spite alone. “It’s breathing. I’m literally just breathing. Do you want me to stop breathing?” he demands. When Eraserhead glares at him like he’s murdered someone (which he has, technically, but what is someone, really), Izuku sniffs righteously and says, “Stop glaring at me!” Eraserhead takes a deep breath. “Breathing, yes, like that,” Izuku says eagerly. “Want to see me do it too?” “No,” says Eraserhead. Midoriya Izuku's family tree may or may not include one Kamado Tanjirou.

Anakin wasn’t sure how to ask, so he didn't. Instead, he waited until Master Kenobi fell asleep and stayed up to tinker in the dark, building his own scanner out of parts stolen from the trash. The chip was in his right thigh.

The first time she wakes up and doesn’t immediately want the world to go back to sleep with her, Fox is on the other side of the tiny room, bouncing Leia on his knee, with Luke asleep against his shoulder.

“If you're not very careful right now,” Obi-Wan says pleasantly, “I'm going to push you into the lava.”

Jon finds himself wandering. His feet carry him to one of the battlements, snow coming down in soft-feathered waves that dust the rooftops. Winterfell is alive with light, windows glowing and chimneys smoking, and Jon can't remember the last time he saw it so full of life, walls still standing tall. This Winterfell has never seen a Bolton occupation, has never witnessed the march of the dead, the wrath of dragon fire. It is eight years before the fall of the Wall, and it feels like a dream. Jon still can't bring himself to completely believe it. Mance Rayder is not yet King Beyond The Wall, the Free Folk have not yet begun to gather, and what stories there are of White Walkers and the dead that walk are still only that, just stories. It has not yet begun, Jon thinks, dread sinking in his stomach. And then- It has not yet begun, Jon thinks again, the thought taking on a new turn in his mind. - Jon has been given a second chance, a chance to change everything.

Bringing the dead back to life never seems to go quite the way it should, and when Granta's dragged back into existence by his father, he's no different. Something is wrong, and something terrible is going to happen, but Xanatos refuses to acknowledge any flaws in his grand plan to seize power. The only ones who will listen are the clone troopers, who know a thing or two about being dead. But Granta's being torn between the father he's worshipped his whole life and the clone troopers who keep twisting him up into knots, and the only thing that can give is him.

You can lose your home and spend your whole life looking for it, sometimes you may even find bits of it again. But sometimes home goes out searching and finds you first. ~ The day he loses his father and his pack, Stiles is transported to a parallel world where his counterpart is nine years old and seemingly small changes have had a huge impact on the course of events in Beacon Hills. At first sticking to the shadows as a vigilante to protect his otherworld father and younger self, Stiles is soon drawn out into the light and onto a path that forces him to confront the traumas of his past so that he can make a place for himself in this new world.

It wasn't solely Jango Fett's DNA that went into making Domino Squad. Palpatine had other plans for them. Thankfully, so does their second genetic donor, and he has just as few qualms about murder as a Sith Lord.

Granta Omega fully intended to die on Korriban, and he did. Then he woke up again. It's getting to be an unfortunate theme.

this is what it looks like when your grandfather loves you but your whole family's emotionally constipated. (except for your uncle, but that might just be all the tea he drinks.)

The Darksaber was always meant for Jedi hands, not the Sith's. When Maul takes possession of it, it fixes things the only way it knows how: by pulling its very first wielder out of the past and throwing him headlong into the Clone Wars. Tarre was expecting his retirement to be quiet and boring. This is anything but.

There's a Jedi standing on the landing platform, entirely unmoving, and he’s been there for almost ten minutes now.

Neil Josten jerked awake, his cigarette falling from his fingers as he did. The frigid air bit at his arms, his neck, his face, but he didn't notice, too busy looking around. "What the fuck." or Neil and Andrew wake up back in Millport, and get the chance to start over.

in which Ned doesn't die but wargs into one pigeon instead. Incidentally, it doesn't stop him from preventing a war and saving both his family and the entirety of Westeros.

He’d been pacing across the deck, considering in which direction to search next, when a great beam of light suddenly shot up into the sky far ahead; a beacon, a herald, a return. Surely, such a powerful thing could only come from one source, one which had to be- Zuko collapsed to the deck before he even had a chance to demand if Uncle Iroh knew what it meant.

The news that Timothy Drake, Gotham’s cryptid millionaire, has shot the Joker dead during a public live-stream hits the world like a freight train—and that is just the opening salvo of his bugfuck plan. Maybe there exists, in the multiverse, a configuration of Jason Todd who will weather this with decorum, dignity and self-respect. This version of Jason Todd decides that the life of an academic is not, really, all that rewarding. In contrast, the life of Timothy Drake’s live-in house-husband is looking more appealing by the second.