Concept. Brewing.
I'm obsessed with AUs where a character dies and then comes back (often with time travel, sometimes without) as… a cat.
They have information and secrets and maybe superpowers and also no thumbs. Or speech capabilities. Or respect.
I want to do one and IDK who or when.
Easy option is "Vader dies and is trying to Fix things but the only person who knows this kitten is a reformed Sith Lord is the ghost of Qui-Gon Jinn, who is also currently invisible to everyone except sometimes Yoda."
Probably a time-travel AU just so I can toss "a Sithly kitten" into the nebulous period between TPM and AotC and have the Jedi (or someone) deal with... This random cat that does things like "Attempts to maul the chancellor" and "Bites Pong Krell" and "naps and purrs on the lap of one random tog initiate."
I do feel a little like putting Vader in the Temple gives him way too much opportunity to actually influence things.
I need to give him trouble.
I need him to face numerous obstacles.
I could toss him into Naboo but.
Consider
Rattatak
Ventress is now being bullied by a Formerly Sith Cat that is trying to push her back into being Not Sith and also trying to fix up a ship to get her off-planet because uhhhh fuck this, the Jedi need to handle this angsty teenager, Vader is NOT interested.
Though if Ky Narec is still alive that could also provide options.
Ventress: This is my… emotional support animal.
The Jedi as a whole: That is an entire-ass Sith Lord.
Anakin, yowling: [former!]
Everybody: [fails to understand him]
From @lizasweetling:
the lack of respect is so actively funny especially if he's Post-original-Trilogy, so he's been walking around being totally unreasonable as people cower at his approach for like 18 years
to- aaaw what a cute kitty!!
that thing about cats and being a supreme killing machine that unfortunately only weighs 7 pounds
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You know a concept not utilized enough?
Fantasy pet whump where Whumpee literally gets turned into an animal.
Whumper either has magic powers or a potion they force Whumpee to drink. They start out fine, then they get that sick feeling in their stomach. Their bones crack and reshape, muscles thickening and changing form, fur growing all over their body. Whumpee's screams turn to barks. The pain only gets worse until they turn into a tiny puppy. Or bunny, or cat, or ferret, or any other animal.
Whumpee's friends are looking for them obviously. They eventually stop at Whumper's isolated home. When Whumper opens the door, they accuse them of stealing Whumpee. Whumper offers to let them look around their house. Caretaker and friends find nothing, all while Whumper is holding the most adorable chocolate lab.
Whumpee barks and cries at their friends petting them. "Sorry for intruding," Caretaker says. "We're just really worried about Whumpee."
"No, no, I understand. I'll do my best to keep an eye out for them. Good luck on your search. I hope you find them." Caretaker doesn't notice the knowing smirk on Whumper's face.
Whumpee's friends leave, and so does their hope of ever being rescued.
Bonus: Whumpee slowly starts slipping into an animal mindset. They give in to their new instincts. Their memories fade away. Human who? No, they're just a little puppy dog. A happy, obedient pet.
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It was a stupid idea to take a job like this. He'd waited and waited for his eye to heal and finally got fed up with waiting. He'd taken the first offer that had come his way.
And here he was, trapped on all fours, unable to speak, and with far more problems than a mere lack of depth perception.
He tried to shout and it came out a roar.
Fuck this. Fuck Gotham. He'd only come here because he needed something to get out of his own head, to stop seeing Joey's wide, terrified eyes every time he slept. He needed to run, to flee far and fast enough that he could outrun his greatest mistake.
He shouldn't have waited. He shouldn't have convinced himself that he was invincible, he was unstoppable, he was the best killer on the planet. He shouldn't have hesitated when he saw the man holding his son prisoner.
And here he was, trapped after all.
Slade grunted and forced himself forward, awkwardly crawling on his new limbs. No one had mentioned that there was fucking magic involved and now he was seeing shit in colors that didn't exist and trying to get used to moving four legs instead of two. The eye was still gone, though.
He couldn't even get the magician to undo it, because the man was dead.
When will you get it through your thick fucking skull that murder cannot solve everything, Adeline had screamed at him. Of course, she'd then done her level best to murder him, so Slade felt justified in ignoring her opinion.
Slade continued to drag himself to the warehouse door--and then paused. Where was he planning to go? His gear had been blown up by magic and his safehouse was blocks away. He couldn't unlock his security without opposable thumbs, or pick up a phone to call Wintergreen, or communicate with anyone. There wasn't a convenient sign hanging over his head that said 'actually a human!'.
He had, he realized chillingly, no idea if it could even be undone.
The sound of footsteps broke his horrified reverie and Slade immediately searched for a place to hide. He was a large animal, a predator judging by the sharp teeth and claws, and he did not want to meet whatever passed for Animal Control in this fucked-up city.
Unfortunately, he ended up cornered by animals of a different kind.
"Holy zoo jailbreak, Batman, is that a tiger?" a brightly colored kid exclaimed, peering from between a dark, forbidding shadow. Slade cast a glance at himself--he could only see white fur but he supposed it was possible. "How did it get here?"
Slade made a threatening growl as the vigilantes sidled forward and they froze. Well, Batman froze and Robin ducked around him.
"Robin!" Batman said sharply, but the kid ignored his orders. Of course he did, he was a kid, and Slade felt his ire grow--he had never meant to put Joey in danger and now his son was mute. What the fuck was Batman thinking, dressing his son as a brightly colored target and taking him out crimefighting.
"He's hurt, B," Robin said, still creeping forward. Slade snarled as loudly as he got, sending Batman rocking forward, but Robin ignored it. "See, he's bleeding!"
There was something wet and irritating in the crook of Slade's neck, and he kept having to fight the insane urge to lick it, but he held his ground, roaring furiously as Robin got closer.
"Robin!" Batman called out, now sounding distinctly worried, but the kid was barely a yard away from Slade now.
"It's okay," Robin murmured to Slade, holding out his empty hands. "I'm just trying to help you."
Jesus fucking Christ. Did this kid have no self-preservation or what? He was close enough to touch now, and while Slade wanted to lash out and test the sharpness of his claws, he also wasn't a monster. No matter what Adeline said.
He wasn't going to maul some kid barely older than Joey. Not when he kept seeing skin split open by a sharp knife, blood welling up almost as fast as the panic.
"It's okay," Robin soothed, gently placing a hand on Slade's head. Slade's ears flicked irritably. "I'm going to check if you're okay." Slade was not happy, but he let Robin examine the wound area on his blind side, keeping his eye fixed on Batman.
He growled low and deep when he caught the man creeping forward.
"Robin," Batman said tightly, "leave it. They can check on it when they take it to the zoo."
Slade snarled, loud and furious. He wasn't going to go meekly into some cage.
"But what about the evidence of magic?" Robin pointed out sensibly. He was a smart kid. "I don't think Gotham Zoo's equipped to take care of a magical tiger."
Very smart kid. Slade managed to figure out how to fold his legs and leaned heavily on the kid, half-pinning him in place as he glared down Batman.
Batman sighed, loud and put-upon. "Robin," he said, somewhere between firm and exasperated. "That's a tiger, not a pet. We're not putting it in the Batcave."
"He needs help," Robin said, voice wavering. "You said our job was to help whoever needed it."
Slade got to watch Batman, Dark Knight of Gotham, dreaded terror of criminals and vagabonds, fold like a bad hand.
"You're telling Alfred," Batman growled as Robin cheered in victory.
Slade decided to go along with the nudging. Batman and Robin were the only ones who knew about the magic, which meant they were his best chance at getting a solution.
It had absolutely nothing to do with the ear scritches. Nothing at all.
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Distraction (affectionate)
“General.”
“General, please.”
“I need you to focus. I know that’s probably difficult right now, but please try. This is clearly Force-nonsense, so we need you to fix it.”
“Because as much as you’re enjoying yourself, we do require our General back with his silver tongue. And opposable thumbs.”
Cody glares at the ginger tooka purring vigorously and enthusiastically kneading the blacks of his lap. It stops, only to swap to climbing his chest to headbutt his chin.
“General…”
He sighs and scratches a spot that melts Obi-wan into a blissed-out puddle.
“I guess it can wait a little longer.”
---
Also on AO3
For:
@codywanweek - day 4: "this isn't what I signed up for"
@clonefandomevents - 212th Bingo: magical mishaps
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