andiinaraethtash

[andiinaraethtash]

had some fun redrawing oli as "The Lute Player" by Frans Hals

[andiinaraethtash]

I'VE SUCCESSFULLY REVERSE ENGINEERED THE PANERA STEAK AND WHITE CHEDDAR SANDWICH THAT THEY KILLED (and now you can make it, too)

The worst day of my life was when I got in my car, drove to the nearest Panera, walked to get myself a tasty treat for lunch, and was told that they don't sell the steak and white cheddar sandwich anymore. My entire life has been gray and empty since that moment, with no joy able to break through the fog. But after about a year, I'm happy to announce that I've done it. I can once again love the feeling of the sun on my skin, secure in the knowledge that I can have this sandwich.

You might say, "Twine, what do you mean it took you a year? This is an incredibly simple and self-evident recipe." To that, I say: shut up you foul demon, I only started learning to cook three years ago. I'm trying to share my moment of joy with the masses. To the rest of you, here is how to make the best sandwich on earth:

An hour or two before you get started on everything else, make your pickled onions. These ones are a 10-15 minute endeavor. I usually add some whole peppercorns to the mix.

Cut fajita meat (or otherwise very thinly sliced steak) into little squares.

Melt about a tablespoon of butter in a pan with as much garlic, salt, pepper, paprika, and oregano as your heart desires. Toss in those bad boys and cook until they just turn brown, then take them off the heat.

Assemble your steak, sliced white cheddar, pickled onions, and bread on a baking sheet. Put it in the oven on broil until the cheese is nice and melty.

AND NOW YOU HAVE YOUR SANDWICH, BABYYYYYYYYY!!!!!! If you haven't eaten a vegetable in more than 48 hours I'd recommend making some as a side, but I'm not in charge of you, so do whatever the hell you want.

samdwinch

[andiinaraethtash]

I'VE SUCCESSFULLY REVERSE ENGINEERED THE PANERA STEAK AND WHITE CHEDDAR SANDWICH THAT THEY KILLED (and now you can make it, too)

The worst day of my life was when I got in my car, drove to the nearest Panera, walked to get myself a tasty treat for lunch, and was told that they don't sell the steak and white cheddar sandwich anymore. My entire life has been gray and empty since that moment, with no joy able to break through the fog. But after about a year, I'm happy to announce that I've done it. I can once again love the feeling of the sun on my skin, secure in the knowledge that I can have this sandwich.

You might say, "Twine, what do you mean it took you a year? This is an incredibly simple and self-evident recipe." To that, I say: shut up you foul demon, I only started learning to cook three years ago. I'm trying to share my moment of joy with the masses. To the rest of you, here is how to make the best sandwich on earth:

An hour or two before you get started on everything else, make your pickled onions. These ones are a 10-15 minute endeavor. I usually add some whole peppercorns to the mix.

Cut fajita meat (or otherwise very thinly sliced steak) into little squares.

Melt about a tablespoon of butter in a pan with as much garlic, salt, pepper, paprika, and oregano as your heart desires. Toss in those bad boys and cook until they just turn brown, then take them off the heat.

Assemble your steak, sliced white cheddar, pickled onions, and bread on a baking sheet. Put it in the oven on broil until the cheese is nice and melty.

AND NOW YOU HAVE YOUR SANDWICH, BABYYYYYYYYY!!!!!! If you haven't eaten a vegetable in more than 48 hours I'd recommend making some as a side, but I'm not in charge of you, so do whatever the hell you want.

samdwinch

[andiinaraethtash]

Historian!Sausage encounters the remains of some blood sheep in the cathedral dungeon 👀🩸

I’m really excited for Misadventures SMP!!

[andiinaraethtash]

im curious . only count weddings that you like, remember. i went to one when i was 1 year old and that doesnt count

reblog for sample size etc etc etc

[andiinaraethtash]

tips on what to say when someone says they have a seafood allergy:

if you care for them, you can say, "thank you for informing me--i won't have seafood near you"

if you hate them, you can say, "my shrimpathies"

[andiinaraethtash]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63985543

The Shadows You Leave

Summary:

Through power, my chains are broken, the Sith code says. But power has not freed Darth Vader, a slaver and a slave at the same time. But there is more than one kind of freedom, and it is past time that Vader remembers that

Notes:

Literally whipped this up in a few days. The whole concept of Vader having been Anakin having been a slave is just. *chef's kiss* so beautiful for the parallels and the angst. Disclaimer: I've never actually read any of Fialleril's works, I've just read so many things that reference it. So if I mis-quoted, or misrepresented something, oops, my bad. Thanks to WhimsicalTwine for letting me bounce ideas off of them, and Mtabby2260 for inspiring me to write again.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

There is a wall in Vader’s mind, one that he built to separate who he is know from who he was before the Empire, before he took the name Vader. He doesn’t touch it, he doesn’t let anything come through it. Even after fifteen years, after leading the Emperor’s forces, after getting rid of countless threats to the security of the galaxy, he still refuses to touch that wall.

It’s not just that he wants to forget he ever was Anakin Skywalker, though that is part of it. It’s also that, as flawed and weak as Skywalker was, the only happiness he’s ever experienced was when he had that name, and he will not let the emptiness of now seep into the memories of then.

The emptiness is necessary, he tells himself. The Empire is secure, there is real justice now.

Usually, that is enough.

Right now, though, he is too angry to dwell on that necessity, because the rebel group he is hunting right now is scrambling to get away, a few transports already taking off. They will be shot down, he knows, the stormtroopers and officers aboard his ship aren’t that incompetent, but every moment this farce of a resistance stands in his way the more his blood boils, the colder he feels.

The rebels are running out of room to retreat in the cave system they’ve found themselves in, the last few scrambling up a flight of rough-hewn stairs toward what must be some sort of exit. He stalks after them. The dark grey stone walls reflect the red of his lightsaber, throwing shadows that warp and waver as the fear of the rebels pulses through their veins.

They reach a platform, some sort of landing pad, empty and slick with rain, and they turn, looking to escape back down the stairs, but Vader stands in the entrance, and four rebels’ fear spikes—but the fifth, an older, worn woman who has something familiar about her, something that scratches at the wall between now and then, she stands tall, throwing her arms out to hold the others back behind her.

She not protecting them, he realizes, tilting his head slightly. She’s stopping them from running, pointless as it would be.

He takes a few slow strides forward ready to cut through them if necessary, or take them in for questioning. If they know more about the broader rebel movement, they could be of use, but the woman meets his eyes through his mask, and he knows she knows what he plans.

Something in the Force stills, a long moment that feels like the universe holding it’s breath before the plunge, and the woman straightens, straightens like soldier correcting an officer, like a servant standing up to their master—like his mother stood up to Watto, to Gardulla, and—

And she shoves the others off the edge of the landing platform, their screams of shock and betrayal echoing for a moment before their presences in the Force blink out.

In front of him, the woman moves as if to follow them, and Vader has the presence of mind to pin her in place with the Force. He strides forward, aware of the stormtroopers fanning out behind him as they finally reach the platform.

Stopping in front of her, he grabs her jaw, forcing her to look at him. “Brave,” he says. “But foolish, and pointless. You could have spared yourself pain if you had not done that.”

She smiles—except it’s not a smile. It’s a baring of teeth, a display of some of the only weapons a slave is allowed—and there is a vindictive light in her eye. “They will never know the cruelty of a slaver. That is worth whatever happens next.”

He growls, letting go of her face, but before he can turn away, the woman grabs her own arm, and spits three words.

“Dukra ba dukra.”

And she presses a button on a gauntlet he’d barely noticed.

The explosion is small, the chip in her body not large enough to do much more damage than to kill her, but he’s close enough that scraps of flesh and bone hit him, enough to make him stagger. Vader falls to one knee, mind stuttering as he tries to comprehend what just happened.

Distantly, a part of him is frustrated at the loss of potential intel, but he can’t focus on that, too busy replaying the words over in his head. Dukra ba dukra, her voice echoes in his mind. Dukra ba dukra, the old women in the slave quarters murmur as they bury their children.

Dukra ba dukra, his mother breathes in his memory. There is more than one kind of freedom.

He’s vaguely aware of standing and marching back where he came from, but everything around him is a red haze, more so than usual. Blood spatters, he’s fairly sure. His respirator keeps the stench of blood and burning flesh out of his nose, but he would still swear he can smell it.

Without a word he makes his way onto his ship, not for the first time grateful that no one else is ever in his ship, because it means he doesn’t have to try to think enough to issue orders.

Freedom or death. There are few things that could make the wall between then and now crumble, but it is crumbling now, because he can see it now. He can see what he has become, and it isn’t just the hand of the Emperor, it isn’t a feared commander. It’s the epitome of everything he has sworn to destroy since he was old enough to now what depur meant.

The memory of countless slaughters flashes through his mind, every planet he’s decimated, every species exterminated, every people enslaved to do the Emperor’s bidding—

No. Not the Emperor’s. His. Vader’s. He is depur , he is the reason the woman would rather kill her friends and herself than submit to capture. She knew slavery before, she had her chip in still, and she refused to do it again, because that’s what it would have been.

The flight back to the Star Destroyer is quick, and Vader strides out, ignoring the salutes and stiff posture from every trooper and officer he passes. They are afraid of him, and for the first time that doesn’t make him feel powerful. It makes the hollow feeling in his chest deepen, the void where his soul should be expand, pulling more of his crumbling will into it. It will keep expanding and pulling, he knows, until he is an empty shell, a puppet for the Emperor.

A slave to his Master.

Was he ever free? He wonders. First the slavers on Tatooine, then the Jedi Masters, always controlling him, putting him in charge of an army of slaves and taking and taking and taking until he has nothing left there, and now it is the Emperor, who is taking things he didn’t know he could lose.

His chambers are empty and cold, and for the first time he can’t bring himself to hate it, because it feels just like he does, and he can’t add more hate to the endless quagmire of self-loathing he is neck-deep in, not without suffocating, not without everything that is Vader, that was Anakin, that will never be free, dying.

His comm blinks, and on autopilot he answers, kneeling as the hologram of his Master blinks into existence.

“Lord Vader,” the Emperor rasps. “How goes the attack?”

“The rebels refused to surrender,” he says, his lips numb at the words. “They chose death of capture.”

And a part of Vader, the part that he still labels Anakin, screams that it would have been better if he had done the same.

_________

There are footsteps, rapid and panicked, echoing through the hanger as his son—his beautiful, amazing son—drags him toward a shuttle. He doesn’t fight it, but he doesn’t help either, hurting too much to try to move.

But it doesn’t matter. His son is alive. His son is escaping, and his son is the one who has broken depur’s chains.

It seemed impossible for so long. Twenty-three years. Half his life. But his chains have truly been broken.

The Sith claimed that the Dark Side is the path to breaking your chains, but he knows that this isn’t true, because for the first time he couldn’t ignore the call of the Light, the call of his son, and that is when his shackles broke, and for the first time, he is truly free.

The chain has not been made that can never be broken, his mother whispers in his mind, and for the first time since her death, he smiles at the memory of her voice. He loves her so much, even all these years later, and he knows she would have been so proud of Luke.

Luke, who stumbles to a halt, breathing heavily, and Vader reaches out through the Force, marveling at the warmth he feels. It has been so long since he felt it, but it welcomes him, bathing him in gentle light and rebuilding the crumbling remains of his soul that had fallen into the void of the Dark Side. Luke answers, a wave of soft reassurance and steely determination, but Vader—No. No, he is not Vader.

Anakin tugs on the faint bond between the two of them. “Luke,” he manages, his lungs spasming. “Help me take this mask off.”

His mask, his suit, the prison he has been trapped in by his own foolishness. He will not die in this cage. Not until he can truly see his son for the man he has become.

“But you’ll die,” Luke protests, something in his eyes telling him that he knows what Anakin is about to say next.

“Nothing can stop that now.”

Dukra ba dukra, he thinks. This death will be freedom, however sad he is that he will not be able to watch Luke grow older. But there is the Force, even in death. And through the Force, he is truly free.

Notes:

Comments feed an author's soul!

[andiinaraethtash]

Uuuuh fun fact after watching the GIGGS crew's Phasmo streams I started saying "sorry" like I'm Canadian. I'm not.

@itsybitsybatsyspider @chaoticdumbassrogue @winterwolfmiraculous

(screw it what's a fun fact about yourself also @ people I'll go first I'm allergic to myself

@escapetheslaughter

@ugly-astral-taurus

@bees-official

@gremlininthedark

@bloodmoon-da-idiot

@multifandomcutie13 )

[andiinaraethtash]

Ough, yes, that would be awesome

it's not fairrrrr that I don't have empires cosplayer friends to take pictures irl with

[andiinaraethtash]

[andiinaraethtash]

“The average person thinks about the Roman Empire every day” factoid is a statistical error. Tumblr users in March -

[andiinaraethtash]

random poll just to learn more about all of you lovely people (please reblog with your answer + how you take your coffee/tea)!

[andiinaraethtash]

Also: fWhip has stated, multiple times in multiple streams, that they are NOT doing an Empires s3 anytime in the foreseeable future. Whatever project is coming out next, IT IS NOT EMPIRES S3.

Obviously no one can keep you from getting your hopes up, but do NOT, under any circumstances, take out the inevitable disappointment on the CCs. Period.

They put so much love and time and effort into their work; tearing them down for not doing what you want is more likely going to make them quit than it is going to make them comply. Yes, this is their job, and yes they do this to get paid, but they do the things they do because they want to, not just to make us happy.

So seriously. Chill the f out and don't take any emotions out on people who are sharing something that they love with you FOR FREE. Put yourself in their shoes. Would you want a bunch of people on the internet throwing that kind of stuff at you when you share something you love?

If it’s NOT empires s3 we’re going to be nice about it and NOT SEND HATE AGAIN okay? okay.

[andiinaraethtash]

Words of Affirmation

—

We here at the Permit Office understand that this is a potentially challenging time for you. As such, we have provided a complimentary Comfort Room™ that will ease your anxieties. We hope you find your time here educational and productive.

The board thanks you for your cooperation.

[andiinaraethtash]

you know i truly think one of my favorite zombiecleo character traits is that like. so she's always neck-deep in whatever nonsense is going on in the server at any given moment. like FULLY involved in the chaos. probably causing a great deal of it, also. and the WHOLE TIME she acts judgemental that other people are doing this nonsense. she's like. man, look at these guys. don't they look stupid? i mean i'm involving myself in the exact same things what do you take me for a square. but still, what fools--

[andiinaraethtash]

born to make my blorbos go through unimaginable pain so that we can work for our happy ending forced to prepare myself to beat my terrifying foe (study for an exam)