It is the will of the Force that you are at my side. I just want to keep you there in one piece.

Ahsoka Tano, ever so innocently:

(direct quotes once again!)

Hayden Christensen is a vegetarian.

So like, I dunno Anakin not eating a lot of meat while growing up on Tatooine made a lot of sense to me.

Which makes things interesting because Ahsoka is a carnivore.

I like to think that Anakin tried meat once he was at the temple but it's just so very heavy compared to what he is used to eating, so he just sticks to vegetarian meals.

Fish blows his mind probably.

I think Anakin's probably a flexitarian. It's basically a vegetarian who occasionally eats meat.

I headcanon that Anakin can cook meat, he just needs a recipe & meat prep tips. However, he can cook amazing vegetarian & insect dishes.

Since Ahsoka is a carnivore, imagine their first time living together and they have to navigate that. Obi-Wan's probably used to eating vegetarian as well given that he had to adjust meals for Anakin and it's just easier to make one that fits all.

For some domestic shenanigans: Anakin is away so it’s Obi-Wan and Ahsoka together in their apartment.

So Obi is responsible for dinner and can't really cook, never mind making meat of some kind.

Ahsoka design inspired by @litheian's human version of Ahsoka. Much of the idea came from her headcannon too. Check out her artwork here: [email protected]

Pairing: Anakin (23)/Ahsoka (18)

Part 1:

Anakin strolled into the old warehouse. On the other side of the wall he could hear his agent, Ben, arguing with the studio owner, Plo. He rolled his eyes and sat down. It was the same old thing. “Are you kidding me, Plo? You can’t do this to me! We’re old friends, that’s got to count for something!” Ben was saying in his whiny, overdramatic voice. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Ben. But this is an opportunity of a lifetime for me and my business. I just can’t pass it up!” Plo replied, begging him to understand.

“Well then, what are we supposed to do? I’m telling you, he has what it takes! He’s the next big thing in the model world. But he’ll never get his face out there, without a good portfolio. And a good portfolio requires a good photographer! You’re the best around, we need you!” His agent exclaimed.

“Look, I’ll tell you what. I recently hired an intern from the high school down the street, she’s got a good eye. I’ll have her take the pictures and I’ll photoshop them later. They’ll have the Plo Koon seal of approval before they leave.”

“A no-name? That’s suicide in this business, you know that!” It wouldn’t be long now before Ben was yelling. Anakin opened his eyes and looked around. Whatever his agent was negotiating, wasn’t going well. He hated politics, so he stayed out of it. Movement caught his eye and he stood up and headed in that direction. 

He watched as a young girl with reddish-brown, almost copper colored, skin, came out of the back room carrying a tripod in one hand and a light in the other. She was wearing a red crop top and cutoff jean shorts. She had bangles up and down her arms and around her ankles, and bare feet. There were white markings on her face that came down in a diamond shape, wove around her eyes in both directions and then a separate wing shape on her cheeks. She was too far away to tell if they were a tattoo or something she drew on with makeup. She had a nose ring and multiple piercings up and down her ears. The way they sparkled in the studio lights reminded him of constellations. But her most dramatic feature was her brightly colored blue and silvery-white hair, dyed in stripes that were not your common highlights. She was cute, in an eccentric kind of way, he smiled to himself. Ben may not think she’s worth much, but he wouldn’t mind working with her.

“Ahsoka!” Plo called from his office, coming out into the open area with Ben on his heels. The girl that Anakin had been watching looked up from her task almost bored. His smile deepened. Her name was unusual, but it fit her. He liked it. “I have to go across town and take pictures of Miss Amidala’s new fashion line. I need you to do model portfolio shots for this young man.” Plo said, acknowledging Anakin for the first time. Her eyes followed where he pointed, widened just slightly when she saw he’d been watching her, but then returned to the owner and nodded. “Ben here, will tell you what he wants. Good luck!” He said a little strained and grabbed a bag of equipment before disappearing out the double doors. “Oh and lock up when you’re done!” He shouted from outside. Anakin imagined he was now muttering to himself angrily. He resisted the urge to laugh. Ben had that effect on people.

“Now listen here, girl…” his agent said to her. “I don’t know who you are, but I’m not happy about this arrangement. You’re going to take lots of pictures of my client in all different places and styles and hopefully in the next few days, there will be a handful that are worth keeping!”

If Ahsoka was offended or bothered by what Ben was saying, she hid it well. Anakin had seen stronger people melt under his gaze. She was probably used to demanding people. That’s the kind of people you had to deal with in this business. He admired her backbone. Ben called him over to stand in the middle of the set and then began his extensive list of demands. She nodded thoughtfully then had the gall to shoo him out. He liked her already. 

“I’ll be back in a couple hours, Anakin.” Ben said to him. “We’ll go to the gym for your daily workout. Then you’ll need to go to bed early because we have a seven am appointment with the governor. He wants you to be the poster boy for his ‘fit for life’ program!” His agent gave one last glare at the girl and was gone.

He sucked in a breath when she turned to look him up and down now that they were alone, then to his surprise, she picked up an old DustBuster and vacuumed the air around the space and him. “You’re messing up my hair!” He exclaimed trying to hold his carefully styled locks in place while she went around his head sucking up who knows what.

“It looks better that way.” She spoke at last. She stopped in front of him.

“What are you doing anyways?” He asked curiously.

“Getting rid of the negative energy around you.” She said matter of factly, as if that was the most obvious answer. Then she glanced at the door, made a face and went back to setting up the light she’d been working on. He hiked an eyebrow at her and then blew air out his mouth. So she was a little crazy… 

“Sick contacts.” He said trying to break the ice. Then cringed inwardly. There were plenty of things about her he could have complimented, why’d he start with that?

She turned and looked up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time, “I don’t wear contacts, this is my natural color.”

“Oh, well…” he was a little flustered. “They’re a very beautiful shade of blue.”

“Thank you.” She replied politely, but unimpressed. She studied his face, he squirmed internally. He couldn’t help but notice the bronze color of her lips. She was appealing, but a little over-confident for his taste.

When she finished with the light, she turned her attention to him at last. He swallowed without thinking as she looked at him. She did circles around him and he shuffled his feet. As a model, he’d gotten used to being objectified, even sexualized, but the way her eyes scanned him, he felt as though she had X-ray vision. Like she could see right through him. Her intensity made him uncomfortable, but more than that, she didn’t speak. 

Behind her cool, calm and zero-fucks-given attitude, he could see pain in her, but she was still one of the most unreadable people he’d ever met. “How’d you get the scar?” She asked stopping in front of him finally. 

“You can see it?” He asked startled. “I thought my makeup artist did an incredible job covering it.”

“They did, but wipe it off.” She handed him a wet washcloth. 

“Are you sure?” He asked. “Models are supposed to be clean. No tats, no marks, nothing.”

She peered at him. “Do you want to be just another model, or do you want to stand out?”

“Well whatever gets my career going. I confess that’s more Ben’s department.”

“He was the one that wanted you to cover it?” She asked.

“Yes.” He said. She clicked her tongue in response. 

“What do you want?”

“I want to be an actor.” He confessed with a nervous laugh, certain she’d find his dream silly. But she didn’t laugh or even make a face. 

“Then you have to move people.” She replied, pointing to the washcloth in his hands. This might be crazy, but… he wiped the makeup off without any more questions.

While he worked on his face, she went about moving lights and designing the scene. Then she took the washcloth from him and threw it to the side. “So? You never told me how you got it.” She said studying how well he cleaned it off. 

“A cat.” He replied. “Another modeling company was going to hire me, but the boss’s cat apparently didn’t like me. I had no idea that was a deal breaker.” She traced her finger down it softly. Her touch was surprisingly gentle. He watched her while she did so. Her white markings were a tattoo after all, he couldn’t see any makeup lines. She smelled sweet, like oranges. He liked it a lot. It wasn’t overpowering, but as distinctive as the rest of her. She definitely made a strong impression. 

“Ventress?” She asked with the first show of emotion since he arrived. She brushed his hair to the side just a fraction of an inch.

“You’ve heard of her?”

“She has quite the reputation. We get a lot of their cast offs. Bad for them, good for us.” She shrugged. Then to his surprise, she moved behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, then moved up to his chest. She then took a pen out of one of the two buns she had in her hair and marked two places on her arms. Was she measuring him? He’d never had a photographer do anything like this before. “When was the last time you had a decent meal?” She asked. 

“I had a good breakfast!” He said defensively.

“The only one in a month?” She asked.

“Of course not!” Why was she prying? She was supposed to just take pictures, why did she need to know all this personal stuff?

As if knowing exactly what he was thinking, she commented, “to photograph someone and do them justice, you have to know them.”

“Well maybe I don’t want you to know me, I just want you to take a damn picture!” He said harshly. He was getting tired of these games. Here he was feeling naked while he knew nothing at all about her.

She stopped and looked at him. It felt almost like she was daring him to say it again. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t dare. “Take your shirt off.” She said and patted the backwards chair she’d put in the middle of a black back drop. She went around adjusting the lights. Until it was relatively dark in the studio. 

He sat on the chair, one leg on each side, with just his jeans on, facing the camera. She moved around using her fingers as a frame and then stopped suddenly in one spot and moved the camera tripod there. He clearly didn’t understand artists, because he had no idea what she was doing. Once she was in position with the camera ready, he waited for her to take it, but she didn’t. “Put your left hand on your right shoulder, your right hand on your left shoulder and rest your elbows on the back of the chair.” He did what she said, wondering why she made him take his shirt off just to cover up exactly what removing it would show. “What’s the saddest thing that’s ever happened to you?" 

He looked up at her as though she punched him in the gut and heard the camera click. He stood up suddenly annoyed. "What are you playing at?” He demanded. “Are you enjoying this?” She looked at him blankly as though she had no idea what he was talking about. Which only served to increase his anger. 

He was just about to grab his shirt and storm out when she said quietly, “I’m sorry about your mother.” He stopped in his tracks. 

“How?” He was so shocked he couldn’t move. 

“Eyes talk, I listen.” She said. Then turned around and sat down in the chair he’d just vacated. He looked at her trying to decide if she was being serious. “I was taken from my parents as a child. Enrolled in a school for gifted children. Which as you probably know, is the politically correct term for mentally ill.” She sighed and dropped her head in her hands. “People don’t like me, people don’t understand me. And I don’t really care. But… I was tired of feeling like I was the only one that carried pain no one could see. I started going to the park and watching them, trying to draw out their pain. Seeing their pain, healed my own. I didn’t feel so alone.”

He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt sorry for her. Except that in a way, she was right; seeing someone else’s pain makes your own hurt less. And though he was still angry for how she’d gone about drawing his out, he did feel lighter sharing it with someone else. At least knowing someone else saw it.

Part of him wanted to reach out and take her hand, but before he made up his mind to do it, she stood up. “Come look,” she said and took the memory card out of the camera and popped it in the laptop. Then opened the picture to show him. His jaw dropped. He’d never paid much attention to what made a good photograph but he’d never been so rocked by one before. She’d taken a single black and white picture that showed only his bare skin. Everything else blended into the background. Your eyes snapped right to his elbows and then followed his arms up to the most intense eyes. The emotion showing was so raw that you’re instantly captivated by the depth of the person sitting there. And even though she’d invoked such deep pain in him, he almost didn’t recognize himself. “What do you think?” She asked, looking up at him expectantly. 

His mouth worked for a few moments before words came to him. “You moved me.” He said at last. She grinned at him and he sighed. She was weird, there was no question. But she was onto something. This portfolio was going to be unique. He shouldn’t have been surprised that in this picture, his scar being visible, didn’t bother him at all. Here he’d been going around ashamed of it, feeling as though it would always be a disability in his career, but in one shot, she had made it a statement of who he was as a person. Dramatically emphasizing it as part of what made him. And no matter how strange she’d gone about doing it, he knew he could trust her completely.

He dropped his shirt again and gave her permission to keep going. She didn’t talk much, but worked much the same process throughout the session. She’d position him, find the right angle and snap a single picture after invoking a certain emotion. He didn’t really notice the passage of time, because he enjoyed watching her work. She often had a pen or lens cap, or sometimes her tongue, sticking out the side of her mouth as she concentrated on finding those perfect shots. The more he watched, the more fascinating she became. He found an odd comfort in the soft jingling sound her bangles made. He admired the lightness of her steps, the deliberate positioning, even the way she studied him. He was falling in love with that moment she found the perfect shot, because her blue eyes would light up and sparkle. But his favorite part was when her hands would brush his bare skin as she positioned him, leaving a trail of citrus teasing his senses. He was realizing it wasn’t just his sense of smell that was reacting. It was like he could feel her in the air around him. She radiated warmth, a kind of energy that left his skin buzzing long after the touch faded. It was like she was electric. He’d never met anyone quite like her before. He wasn’t here to fall in love… but… he just might be falling.

“Time for a break!” She exclaimed out of the blue. He hadn’t realized how tired he was just modeling. It was probably the emotional rollercoaster she’d put him on since they started. He glanced at the clock, Ben would be back in half an hour. He wished he didn’t have to leave. “There’s food in the kitchen that way,” she pointed past his nose. “And bathrooms are out the door and around the building to your right.” He felt a little like he’d been dismissed.

He pulled his shirt back on and headed towards the kitchen, but then decided he wanted a smoke before his agent returned and lectured him. He also thought it might calm the rush of feelings she’d ignited this afternoon. By far, this was the weirdest modeling session ever, but one he’d definitely never forget. He stopped a few feet away from the door and lit his cigarette. Then he wandered back behind the old warehouse and stared at the water. Across the river was Manhattan, a constant buzz of activity. This was a more run-down part of town, but from what he’d heard, Plo was a renowned photographer, so maybe he just liked the space. Space was hard to come by in New York, that was for sure. 

He absentmindedly puffed his cigarette while watching the boats go by and then he started heading back to the door. He wished he knew why Ahsoka was so appealing to him. She wasn’t his type at all. He’d always gone for girls with fairer skin and brown hair. Ones that were classy and rich. But there was something about this one, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

He looked up and saw her walking towards him. He forgot about his smoke for a moment as he watched her. She was graceful. Every movement had a purpose. She seemed to have a gait as distinctive as the rest of her. She reminded him of a cat… and as he thought about it… like one stalking prey. 

In one movement, she reached up and plucked the cigarette out of his mouth, took a puff of it, blew it back in his face and then dropped it on the ground and stamped it out with her bare foot. “Hey!” He said, recovering from the initial shock of what she’d just done. “I was going to finish that!” He pulled out another and stuck it in his mouth. She made a face at him, scrunching up the white markings. 

“Smoking is bad for you.” She said simply and turned to walk inside. He stared after her, eyes lingering in that direction long after she disappeared, unlit cigarette, still in his mouth. He brought his lighter up and ignited it, but then clicked it off and threw the cigarette away. What was wrong with him? For a girl of so few words, she had him wrapped around her finger already. 

He went inside not feeling much calmer. But he’d pretty much decided that would be the state of affairs when she was around. She was sitting in front of the laptop studying the pictures she’d taken. He walked over to her and put his hands on the back of the chair; looking over her at the screen. Before he could stop himself, he rested his chin on the top of her head and inhaled. Were they close enough to do that already? She seemed to know every in and out of him, but she was a mystery. If she didn’t like him that close, she didn’t say anything. He was surprised by the softness of her hair. He’d expected it to be rougher and more wiry since she had darker skin. He ran his fingers through the back of it, loving the silky feel and the way it would spring back up in curls when he let go. 

“What are you?” He asked, feeling like an idiot. There was nothing normal about her, but that was a dumb way to ask for more information.

“I don’t know.” She said, and at first, he felt as though she was trying to end that line of questioning. But then he remembered what she’d said earlier about being taken from her parents. So how would she know? He had endless questions, but he stood up straight and let go of her when he heard the door to the studio open. He spun around to see his agent walk inside. 

“I guess we’re done today,” he whispered.

“Yep,” was all she said. She hadn’t even looked up. 

“Please tell me there might be a shot or two we can use?” Ben said joining them at the computer. Ahsoka snapped the laptop shut so he couldn’t see the pictures. 

“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” Anakin replied stepping between them. 

"Always with the criticism, Master. Never really believing in me, trusting me."

At it again, are they?