not a republic
A Rebellion's Heart: Ch 20/?
A Star Wars: The Old Republic story, set during the KotFE era
By Organization for Transformative Works

She took a deep breath before marching into her office, diving from one politically delicate situation to the next without even catching a break in between. Hopefully this one went somewhat smoother than the meeting with Zakuul and the Iridonians. Her guest was already seated, his back to the door; she was used to seeing him in military fatigues, or at least an officer’s uniform, but he was instead dressed in an almost gaudily red tunic, unembellished.

His ears flicked briefly at the sound of her entrance, acknowledging her arrival, and he rose to his feet. “Colonel,” he said, as he turned to greet her.

She clasped the outstretched hand in her own. “Fleet Admiral,” she said, far more gently than she might normally have greeted him. “Thank you so much for coming in today.”

Fleet Admiral Bey’wan Aygo looked like he’d aged a decade since the last time she’d seen him, his eyes wan and his fur lacking the usual lustre she knew to expect from her furred colleagues thanks to her marriage to Aric. He smiled weakly at her, as if even such a small gesture exhausted him. “You’ve got my thanks for keeping the invitation open,” he said, taking his hand back and folding both behind his back. “To be quite frank, colonel, I needed the distraction.”

Given the bright red of his outfit, the colour of mourning in Bothan culture, she couldn’t even begin to imagine. “Are you holding up okay?” she asked carefully, gesturing for him to take a seat at the desk again.

How The Younglings Sticked It To Palpatine

So, I just got a pretty weird idea about a fic I’m never going to write. Though, I present the prompt to your collective insanity to crackify it even more. 

@forcearama @albaparthenicevelut @lurkingcrow @resistancepilots @tygermama @asokatanos 

Imagine Knight Anakin Skywalker who was put on probation (something about blowing up a building, Obi-Wan, making things go boom is a legitimate strategy!). A part of his punishment is to teach a few lessons in the Créche. Anakin awaited a horribly booooring afternoon with a bunch of kiddies.

Well, it showed up that the lessons were on galactic politics and kid version about “Why the hell do we even fight a war.”

The thing is, that the only way Anakin knew anything about the legal side of politics was Obi-Wan’s unorthodox style of teaching via presenting his Padawan with completely surreal situations which he had had to analyse with laws.

Surreal situations such as seceding the Republic.

“Imagine, kids, that you really, really don’t like a thing. Like tubers for lunch.”


“Tubers, yuck!”

“We hate tubers!”

“We want ice-cream.”

“But they won’t give us any.”

“Exactly. Now, your caretakers won’t do anything about it despite your protests. So, you declare that you don’t find their authority beneficial anymore, and you write it down. That means that you don’t have to listen to them anymore, and you can do whatever you want. Well, at least what is legal in your new state.”

“How do you write the paper?”

“Well, everything that you need to know is in the Planetary Membership Act.” Anakin was proud he remembered the exact law. A couple of younglings rushed to the datapads. Aw, youth! Look at their enthusiastic lil’ faces!

When he came back the next day with Ahsoka for another lesson, the younglings surprised him when they locked the door behind. And barricaded it with the furniture.

He looked around the tiny forms, all of them beaming with self-satisfactory smiles. One of them, a little Twi’lek girl beamed with pride when she stepped to him, a piece of flimsy in her hands.

“Oh, no….” Ahsoka sighed. Anakin had no idea what was going on.

“Yes, little one?”

“We have declared a new state!” the girl said, handing him the flimsy. “Welcome to Créchestan, President Skywalker!”

“What the…” He eyed the flimsy. Oh force. Oh force.

“Well… At least you know how to write legally binding documents, don’t you,” he gulped.

Obi-Wan’s going to kill me.