Summary: No one told Ahsoka that her Padawanship was gonna be this way. (Her job's a joke, she's broke, her love life's ... yeah, you get it.) Subtitle: "Five ways in which Anakin Skywalker is a horrible Master". Co-written with the wife.

Five Things That Shouldn't Have Happened to Ahsoka (But Did)


"Rodents give me gas." - Ahsoka Tano, "Star Wars: The Clone Wars" novelization by Karen Traviss

It was a standard, Mid-Rim mission with lots of foliage and animal life. Reconnaissance had been successful, and the 501st decided to spend the evening cocooned in its makeshift camp, to strike out against its unsuspecting enemy at dawn.

Tents were set-up; a sleep-rotation schedule was created and put into effect; and food was accumulated. The bowl of stew passed to her smelled somewhat odd, but Ahsoka had gone four days subsisting on energy bars. She wasn't about to be picky.

Her stomach began rumbling with indigestion roughly an hour later. The clone troopers had gotten rowdy, as they were wont to do in her Master's presence, so nobody noticed her sitting slightly apart at first, arms clasped around her small person. Eventually, discomfort gave way to something much more sinister.

Unfortunately, her Master noticed. "Awww, kriff, what reeks?" Anakin Skywalker queried loudly, making a show of waving his robotic hand under his nose. Drunk and loyal to their general, the clones giggled. Ahsoka kept her head down and shuddered as she emitted three or four more farts, each undeniably louder than the next.

"Ugh, someone's beefing." Anakin wasn't going to give up. He started pointing fingers. "Oddball, it's you, isn't it? It's coming from your direction," he said accusingly.

The embarrassed clone trooper squirmed. "N-not me, Sir," he gasped out, looking as uncomfortable as Ahsoka felt. "But ... definitely coming from ... over here ..." Oddball was infamous for his weak stomach; also, for being the other clones' punching bag. Ahsoka sighed as another fart squeaked out. Kark it, she couldn't let that happen to him on her account.

"It's me," she said with as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances. "Sorry." The admission was punctuated by another particularly loud emission, the smell of which made Oddball and a couple of other troopers gag. "It's not THAT bad," Ahsoka groused, eyes flashing.

Her Master guffawed. "It's lethal! We don't even need all this ammo we've stockpiled for tomorrow; we just need to point you southward and BOOM!"

"That's not funny!" Ahsoka screeched, and then farted. "This is highly embarrassing for me, Master! I'd think you of all people would ... wait." She paused, and then stood up, the inertia causing yet more gas to release from between clenched cheeks. "What was in that stew?"

Anakin snickered. "Why do you ask, Snips?" he said innocently, and all at once, Ahsoka knew who to blame for her stinky symphony.

"It was you!" she gasped out, trying to point herself away from Oddball, who looked positively green at this point. "You put rodent in the stew!"

Anakin slapped his knee. "Rex made it!" he managed between bellows of laughter.

Rex looked at Ahsoka, alarmed. "With all due respect, Ma'am, I didn't know it would have, er, this effect."

"Yes, well," Ahsoka's voice was clipped, "He did." Another bout of broken wind pushed poor Oddball over the edge, causing him to upchuck his own stomachful of stew on General Skywalker's cloak. It only made Ahsoka feel a little better. "You're a nerfherder, Master," she told him, another gaseous emission escaping with a crackling sound.

Anakin gingerly fingered the folds of his soiled cloak. "Worth it," he decided aloud. "Totally worth it."


"Well, I'm sorry, Wendy, but I just don't trust anything that bleeds for five days and doesn't die." - Mr. Garrison, "South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut"

She knew what it was, to be sure - some Jedi healer had usurped the female population of her Humanoid Anatomy & Physiology class for a day (the males had been given, assumedly, the same sort of business by Master Windu) to lecture them about "becoming a woman". And then she'd become Apprenticed to Anakin Skywalker, and the Clone Wars had gotten underway, and her burgeoning puberty slipped well to the back of her consciousness.

And then, suddenly, there it was. "Snips, hurry up!" her Master called, tapping his foot impatiently outside the ship's cramped 'fresher that they were sharing for the past two days, and at least two more. "I gotta GO."

"Um, Master?" Ahsoka's voice was tiny and anxious. "Can you, uh ... I don't know how to ... I ..."

"Look, I'm going to go in the sink again if you don't let me in there," Anakin said meanly, boring holes through the permasteel door with his glare. "You know I have a very shy bladder, and-"


"... What?" Anakin blinked.

Ahsoka repeated herself more slowly.

"Your ... what?"

Ahsoka made an annoyed sound through the door. "Look, I'm bleeding and I just need some supplies."

Five minutes later, Ahsoka patted her Master awkwardly on the shoulder as he rocked back and forth in the cockpit, knees pulled up to his chest. "There, there. It'll be fine, Master," she said, vaguely irritated that her miniscule issue had become fodder for one of her Master's meltdowns. As it was, she still wasn't any closer to ascertaining the supplies she needed; rather, she'd fashioned a device to staunch the menstrual flow from running down her legs using 'fresher paper.

Anakin shuddered, his face pale, his lips trembling. "It's ... my fault," he whispered brokenly. "You're hurt and I ... I couldn't SAVE you ..."

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. "Look, Skyguy," she prompted, and he looked up at her from his slouched position with childishly wide eyes. "Can I borrow your comlink?"

"So brave ..." Anakin gasped, his eyes full of tears. Grunting, Ahsoka punched in the sequence to reach Master Kenobi. Anakin quivered, occasionally picking up words like "heavy", "cramps", and "chocolate". "I want chocolate," he murmured.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said suddenly, and his head snapped up.

"Yes, Master?" he sniffled, Obi-Wan's crossed arms and bearded frown somehow comforting in times of tragedy.

"Stop at the nearest trading post - it's a little out of the way, but you should be able to get back on course fairly quickly. Give Ahsoka some credits so she can get what she needs."

"Is she gonna ... die?" Anakin sobbed. "I never ... got to ... say ... goodbye, Master."

"I'm right here," Ahsoka chimed in, darkly.

Obi-Wan's expression remained neutral. "She'll be fine, Anakin. Just get her where she needs to go." The hologram blinked out, and Anakin and Ahsoka stared at one another silently.

Suddenly, Anakin's nose crinkled. "Ew, what's that smell?" he asked.


"Make-up and stickers and ponies and MySpace [dot] com!" - Family Guy, "Barely Legal"

Ahsoka didn't have many friends at the Temple. She'd always been a little different, after all, and then she was Apprenticed to Anakin and was therefore away on missions too often to really worry about it. So when she found out they were to have an entire week on Coruscant for the Resolute's refit, she found herself seeking out her friends.

"Master Obi-Wan is on a mission, so Master Anakin said we could all sleep at his place," she implored them. She knew a sleepover in a Master's apartment had a much bigger fun potential than the Padawan dorms. And besides, didn't she deserve to be out of the dorms by now anyway?

"Yeah, but there will still be a Master there," Ashla pointed out. "That takes all of the fun out of it!"

Ahsoka sighed - none of her friends, apparently, had ever *met* her Master. "Having Master Anakin there is almost exactly like having no supervision," she informed them. Plus, whenever they were on Coruscant, Anakin disappeared almost immediately for parts unknown. (Well, not entirely unknown - Ahsoka wasn't stupid.)

Eventually, they agreed, and the following evening saw five of them sprawled on the living room floor, propped up on pillows and surrounded by snacks. Ahsoka was humoring her friends with yet another tale of her Master's "pure awesomeness" when the door slammed open.

"Heya Snips!" Anakin said, sounding *far* too happy considering it was three in the morning. Ahsoka sighed; she'd foolishly assumed, when he still hadn't appeared when her friends had arrived, that he would stay wherever he was for the rest of the night. Wishful, foolhardy thinking, she chided herself.

"Hi Master," she said, standing, ready to herd him out of the living room and away from her friends before they could ask him any questions and he could start performing the Chosen One Show. Considering his general state of undress, she had a feeling the patrons at the Outlander had already been privy to Anakin's particular brand of entertainment.

Anakin grinned at her, seemingly oblivious to the fact there were five other fourteen-year-old girls (who were, for reasons unbeknownst to Ahsoka, only because she knew better, completely star-struck) in his living room. "Bought you a present," he told her, and Ahsoka frowned slightly.

"Oh, that's so sweet!" Ashla piped up, and Ahsoka wished the other Togruta would just shut the kriff up for once.

Anakin reached into his cloak, pulled out a bright red dildo, and tossed it at her. "Master!" Ahsoka screeched as Anakin chuckled and her friends squealed as the kriffing thing started *vibrating* and moving across the floor like a diagnoa. The other girls squealed and Anakin smirked, turning towards the door.

"S'okay guys, you can come in," he called, and if Ahsoka had wanted to die of embarrassment before, the feeling only intensified when two male Twi'Leks sauntered in, making a show of rubbing their hands all over her Master, who didn't seem at all bothered by the fact he had an audience.

"Guys, say hello to my apprentice and her little friends," Anakin instructed his companions, stumbling towards the sofa. "Snips, little friends, these are the guys." He giggled, and Ahsoka sighed as her friends began to shift uncomfortably.

"Do 'the guys' have names?" Ahsoka asked pointedly, trying very hard to ignore her Master's erection.

Anakin blinked at her, licking his lips. "Um, no," he replied. "I... no. They don't."

"My name's Todd," one of the Twi'Leks offered, half to Ahsoka and half to Anakin.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes and took a steadying breath. "How's it going, Todd?" she responded, realizing that this was something she was getting a little too used to.

Todd shrugged and unzipped Anakin's pants. "Fine."

"That present," Anakin added, giggling anew, "that present was up Todd's ass all night."

With a flurry of disgusted noises and eyerolls, her friends scattered, gathering up their belongings and heading, as one, for the door. "Master!" Ahsoka wailed as Anakin collapsed onto the sofa in a fit of laughter, the Twi'Leks continuing their ministrations, stoned enough to be completely focused on that particular task. "Master, my *friends*!"

"You don't need friends," Anakin informed her, wiping tears of amusement from his eyes. "You've got me." He snarled and grabbed Todd's lekku. "No teeth, for kriff's sake!"

None of her *real* friends could look her in the eye, after that. And not one of them ever asked her about her Master again. That part didn't bother her one bit.


"Something, something, something, Dark Side. Something, something, something, complete." - Emperor Palpatine (allegedly)

Anakin Skywalker was really annoying. Ahsoka hadn't known this back when she idolized him as a youngling; and she'd been far too star-struck to care when he'd first taken her on as his Padawan. And yet, the inevitable truth was that her Master was easily the most irritating being on Coruscant, and quite possibly the known galaxy.

Like a good apprentice, Ahsoka tried to be patient with her Master. She smiled blithely when he gave her the first of many stupid nicknames; she waved it off when he called her a youngling in front of his men, and tried not to take it too personally when he ran all of her clothes up the flagpole in the center of the Temple, "as a joke", he told her.

And then the war dragged on, and suddenly even the smallest transgressions got under Ahsoka's skin. She'd suspected for a while that her Master was functionally retarded, but did he have to sing to his food? Was it absolutely necessary for him to take three hours to use the 'fresher? And was it completely abominable for him NOT to pass out in all manners of undress and sobriety (or lack thereof) in her bed, under the flimsy excuse of, "Master Obi-Wan's gonna get angry if I barf in his shoe again"?

"Respect your Master, you must," Master Yoda told Ahsoka sagely, when she requested a meeting with the Council. "Knows best, he does." She couldn't help but notice that the other members, Master Obi-Wan included, either averted their eyes or took to clearing their throats at this dispensed "wisdom".

Ahsoka did her best to do right by the Council, but soon found her patience wearing thin anew. They were on a diplomatic mission to a posh Mid-Rim planet when she suddenly couldn't take it anymore. "Master, will you please stop popping your gum?" she asked.

It seemed like a reasonable request to her ears, but Anakin did not seem to think so. "Silly Snips," he sing-songed, tousling her head-tails and cracking said gum loudly. Across the lengthy table, the officials of Chommell Minor stared quizzically at the exchange. They'd been told the Jedi were a cultured bunch, but the increasingly agitated state of one of its representatives - not to mention, the debauched state of the other - made them wonder if they might not be better off joining the Separatists.

"Aaahh, stop it!" Ahsoka shrieked, after Anakin leaned down and smacked his gum in her ear. "Spit it out," she ordered him, feeling strange at the role-reversal. "Spit it out, now."

Anakin did. "Ew, Master, you ... it's all slimy, and it's going down my top! You're so disgusting!"

"Ha," Anakin snorted, "You've been Skyguy'd."

"Um, if I could interrupt for just one moment-" a Chommell Minor diplomat offered, but Ahsoka stood up and cut it off.

"I've been putting up with your crap for months, now," she hissed loudly at Anakin. "I really wanted to be a Jedi Knight, and I really wanted you to help me get there. I figure I've got a 50/50 shot of living or dying either way during this war," she continued. "So I might as well try to stay alive around someone who doesn't wake me up by farting the Corellian alphabet in my face."

"Backwards, even!" Anakin said proudly.

Ahsoka tugged hard at the delicate beaded chain serving as her Padawan braid; it broke and scattered across the decadent room. "Kark this," she bleated, "I quit. Being a Dark Side flunkee's got to be better than this."

"He~ey," Anakin intoned, finally seeming to catch on that she was serious. "Can I come?"

"No!" Ahsoka shrieked, and stomped off. Preoccupied with watching her leave, a servant carrying an armload of desserts lost his footing on an errant bead. Collectively covered in pie filling, the entire table stared at Anakin, who shrugged nonchalantly and propped his booted feet on the table.

"S'okay," he said brightly, "Let's get this treaty signed already and have some fun."


"Death is a natural part of life. Rejoice for those around you who transform into the Force. Mourn them do not. Miss them do not. Attachment leads to jealously. The shadow of greed, that is." - Master Yoda, "Revenge of the Sith"

She'd often considered just how she would die. Perhaps she'd go in a battle, valiantly fighting the good fight alongside her Master. Maybe General Grievous would catch her by surprise, or Asajj Ventress, or several of the other creatures who seemed particularly interested in taking out Jedi, with an especially keen emphasis on Anakin Skywalker. She could even be felled by friendly fire.

Death didn't frighten her; death only meant she'd ascend eternally, blissfully into the Force. It was what she'd been taught since Master Plo had whisked her off to the Temple, and she believed it wholeheartedly. She only hoped it would be for a good cause.

So it was to Ahsoka's great chagrin when her death came not only early, but under completely useless and avoidable circumstances. She was in the kitchen in her Master's and Master Kenobi's shared quarters, chopping up vegetables for a salad. Popping a wedge into her mouth, she inhaled too quickly, and suddenly found herself grappling for air. The knife she had been using clattered noisily to the tiled floor; her hands flew to her throat.

"Mas ... ter, Ma-" she called out, but to no avail. Clutching her neck, Ahsoka trotted into the sitting area, where her Master lay splayed across Obi-Wan's favorite armchair, drinking a beer and staring at the holotube. "Mas ... Mas," she tried again weakly.

Anakin just waved his hand. "Can't it wait, Snips?" he said, irritation tingeing his voice. His eyes never strayed from the screen. He burped.

"Can't ... I, Mas ..."

"Kark it, Ahsoka, I'm busy right now!" Unsuccessfully, Ahsoka threw herself against the low-slung table upon which her Master's feet were propped, achieving only a couple of broken ribs. Then she collapsed, unconscious, and Anakin stepped over her two hours later to stagger drunkenly to the 'fresher.

Ahsoka had a traditional Jedi funeral two days later. Anakin blinked a lot as her small frame was devoured by fire, and frowned when both Obi-Wan and Padme gave him dirty looks, and wished not just once for more beer. Then he spent the week getting shit-canned at the Outlander, and collapsed into bed well after the sun rose, possibly on top of urine-stained blankets.

It was here that the hallucinations started. He wasn't particularly bothered at first - Qui-Gon had started 'revealing' himself to Anakin as a ghost almost immediately, and he assumed his Chosen One rank made it all square with the Force. Where Qui-Gon usually spoke softly to him, however, Ahsoka was pissed. The first few times she appeared to him, she did nothing except cross her arms and glare.

"You're gonna get tired of doing that," Anakin slurred, his bed hair sticking up at all angles.
Ahsoka didn't start talking to him for two more weeks, give or take, usually while he was on the battlefield. "You're a douche bag," her small voice whispered accusingly. "It wasn't even a new episode of 'Rogue Jedi'. It was a re-run! A re-run!"

"Hey, it wasn't my fault," Anakin protested aloud, earning him several concerned/puzzled/annoyed looks from his men. Then Ahsoka figured out how to junk-punch him across dimensional planes, and he began wearing a cup.