He dueled him for many a long minute, and then trapping him at the end of a gantry, removed his hand from his wrist. Luke was surprised, but said not a word beyond his cry of pain. After a silence of several minutes, Vader came towards him in an agitated manner, and thus began,

oh my god I just read a post that was like “fuck this nonsense send MACE WINDU back in time to unfuck the prequels!!” and now I will never, ever be satisfied until I find the 300k version of that fic, ever. I NEED THIS FIC LIKE I NEED AIR. WHY IS THIS FIC NOT ALREADY IN MY HANDS??

Me and my husband, watching a martial arts film] Me: See, now this is how the Jedi should have recruited their Padawans: you find some dude and then challenge him to a fight, and if he kicks your ass you then have to beg him to teach you.

After much deliberation, careful study, and scientific analysis, Wes Janson decides that the Fate Of The Galaxy is entirely dependent on the state of Senator-Princess Leia Organa's hair.

Absurdity, what if the people in the Qui-gon Jinn Hate Squad from ArianaDeralte's How a Romance Novel Saved the Galaxy decided to send Qui-gon a glitter-bomb card?

In one galaxy, the novel was never read. In another, it starts a landslide. Or what happens when the Mandalorians learn that the Jedi are exactly what most of them look for in a partner.

“I can’t believe you ruined my boots,” Leia says, outraged, and pushes Dooku’s face further into the mud.

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.

The Jedi do the utmost to support the clone troopers who fight alongside them. Even the ones who like to cause problems on purpose. (In which Sergeant No of the 91st Mobile Reconnaissance Corps has a funky alien gender and tests Commander Neyo's patience.)

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.

“Is the kid in trouble?” “No, of course not—I was just, uh, wondering, Mr. Djarin, if you could tell me about Grogu’s typical diet—I only have limited experience with his species, and I have reason to be... concerned that he’s not getting the enough nutrients here,” said Master Skywalker carefully, the kid sitting beside him, not looking particularly remorseful. Dank farrik, not again, Din thought.

“How’d you get stuck with babysitting duty anyway?” Boba asked one day during dinner. “Oh, I volunteered for this,” Fox told him. “Why the kark would you do that?” “Language,” Fox admonished. “Well, I was just living my normal boring life and I thought to myself, ‘I don’t get called an ugly piece of banthashit often enough.’ So I decided to adopt you.” Boba snorted. “You’re a psychopath,” he told Fox. “I’ve been called worse,” Fox replied breezily.

Trapper sat down, datapad in hand. “Ok, ready to transcribe.” Wooley smoothed the scarf down one more time, then started inspecting the stitches.

Cody doesn't write the mission briefs for his health, you know.

The door slams closed again the second Fox clears the threshold. The street crowd has largely fallen back into its normal rhythm, everyone moved on from the disruption. Which just leaves Fox, and the kid. Great.