dankmyfarrik
Get In Bitches, We’re Hyperfixating
1K posts
✨ Fanfics | Aesthetics | 18+ | She/Her | Taglist | AO3 ✨
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
dankmyfarrik · 2 months ago
Text
[StarWars] [DinLuke]
The Forced Apostate
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Din Djarin / (Dark) Luke Skywalker
The dark Luke is using his Force to…🫣
Don’t get me wrong, even though my first attempt at drawing Dinluke involved a Dark-Luke for Din, I also really enjoy Din/Nice-Luke. It’s just that there aren’t enough works in the fandom depicting Din in a more vulnerable and less aggressive role, with Luke in a position of absolute power showcasing his justified masculinity (he’s a Jedi Master who slaughtered a whole ship of robot killers all by himself! I want to see him overpower Din!!!) And there aren’t enough Bottom(or sub or omega)-Din / Top(or dom or alpha)-Luke dynamics as well, so I chose to draw this to convey my point...
(Or maybe it‘s just me loving to whump my fav character, as I often do 🤭)
246 notes · View notes
dankmyfarrik · 3 months ago
Text
is THIS your man? [shows an image of a malnourished injured exhausted man with big sad eyes looking up at the camera with blood smeared all over his face and mouth. and he is visibly trembling]
70K notes · View notes
dankmyfarrik · 3 months ago
Text
Ok hear me out.
Order 66 but the Jedi all magically become Sith and the clones are unchanged. What happens.
2 notes · View notes
dankmyfarrik · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Eternal Sunshine | Chapter 9: Know Hope
Masterlist | Previous Chapter
Summary: An alternate universe where the only thing that happens differently is... well, the Emperor wins. And Luke wakes up with a mysterious scar on his temple.
Read it here:
AO3
Welcome back! Sorry about the delay! This took way longer than I was expecting to finish. But here we are - enjoy!
Chapter warnings: Cannon typical violence, Grogu is put in a dangerous situation but is completely fine.
Word Count: ~7k
*~*~*~*~*~*
A few things happen when a Star Destroyer enters lower atmosphere. 
First, because there are other ships that serve similar purposes more eloquently, a Star Destroyer needing to leave the vastness of the galaxy, and stoop so low is considered a rarity and thus a necessity. A docking Star Destroyer is not an everyday occurrence. 
It begins as dark omen cutting through the sky—small at first, eventually growing to eclipse the suns. Large enough the beast ever so slightly captures the curvature of the planet, it dwarfs whatever landmark of civilization or nature lies below it.
Second is what happens in the mind. 
It's a humbling sight that freezes the blood of the non-imperial. 
Then, the wind begins sweeping the land like a beckoning storm. And that's when the roar of the engines, deep and resonant, echo through the valleys, cities, mountains - whatever is in the way, sending shivers down to the marrow.
The only sensible action then becomes surrender. But most of the galaxy, Din had found, was not sensible. Star Destroyers, more often than not, served as the beginnings of glorious tales, a demon descending to find itself unwelcome.
So when the Descant slowly clambered its way through the docking procedures, the shadow cast on the ground growing larger and larger it was a rarity that the planet below it offered no fight. The fight had been beaten out of it years ago, now it had succumb to the great galactic Empire. 
It was an odd sight, Din thought. The world was beautiful: pristine grassy hills, a bright blue-purple sky, soft tufts of cherry blossoms. Yet the planet was swarmed by the Empire; it was a hive home to parasites. Two worlds of freedom and order.
As a passenger, Din was not permitted to land with the Descant. The Crest, forced to depart with a grumble from underpaid and overworked imps, left the Descant and Natus behind. He would have stayed as long as he could have, even against the beckoning draw of the beeping fob in his hand—seeking the bounty, calling him on. Everything in Din's beingknew it was wrong to leave Natus alone and vulnerable. And Leia. Maybe even the Maker didn't know what they were doing to her. But her orders were clear—say his name. Get through to him. Leave if you must.
A glance behind the departing Crest revealed the Descant was exchanging large creates, and to his horror chained people between the Imperial facility. 
The Crest lurched into hyperspace. 
Stars encompassed the viewport.
It wasn't long before Din was circling Tatooine and preparing his own docking procedures. As he got closer, a black dot, a silhouette of a ship against the pale gold marble, slowly slid into focus. His gloved hands paused on the controls.
The silence in the cockpit was palpable, broken only by the hum of the ship's engines and the faint, rhythmic beeping of the navigational systems. Tatooine sprawled beneath him, a desert planet of endless dunes and scorching suns, a placewhere survival was as harsh and unyielding as the landscape itself—an old, familiar pain. The ship in the distance, stark against the golden sands, seemed almost a mirage, a specter born of heat and light. One of the suns eclipsed the planet just behind the Crest, eliminating the shadows.
The familiar husky voice sparked over the com. 
"If you're looking for the trandoshan, I've just bagged him." Slave One drifted closer. The monitor thrummed and beeped innocently. 
Boba broke the silence again, something abnormal lacing his usually jolly tone. "Djarin… I have something you need to see."
"Fett," Din started, believing this to be the reason, "how we left things—"
Solo. We fought. I left you behind. I think you got hurt. 
All unsaid.
"I know." His brother recognized his tone. "This isn't a trick. I respect you. If I ever come to my senses and choose to finally fight you, it will be with honor."
Slave One latched onto the Crest from where they circled high above the desert hell. 
Din entered Boba's ship still aware of the weight of the blaster at his hip, but his hands didn't itch for it like he normallydid seeking through the scum pits. Din trusted him. 
But nothing could have prepared him for the sight when the latch door hissed open. 
A small human girl, her hair tight in braids clung to Boba's leg nervously. At the sight of Din she jolted behind Fett further, only leaving room for her wide eyes to peek over, head as high as his knee pad. Awkwardly but with a demonstrated practice, the burly man placed a comforting and familiar hand on her back. She couldn't have been older than four. 
"Now my kar'ta, it's alright. Din is a friend. He has a little one he watches over too."
Din's chest tightened, a sharp pain piercing through at the thought of leaving the kid with the imps for so long. His only solace was knowing there was a protector on the inside.
Instinctively, he dropped to one knee, trying to make himself as small as possible. Even then, he still towered over her.
"Hi kid."
The attempt was pitiful, even to him. But the act seemed good enough to her. Her eyes looking through him, into his soul and he thought he met her eyes through the visor for a split moment but maybe it was just his imagination. She seemed to see what she was looking for and hesitantly stepped out from Boba's shadow. She reached a hand up, and Fett instinctually held his arm out. They locked pinky fingers as she guided herself and Fett closer to Din. She needed to take three steps for every one of Boba's.
"They must have kept her in one of the most secure places in the whole kirffing galaxy." It was too late to fix his language so both the men just winced. "Yet she got out. They had glowing wristbands on her–maybe something for a shock? This little thing. Can you believe those monsters? And she still got out. An'edee!"
She paused, seeing herself in the reflection of the polished beskar. She reached a tentative hand, the pad of her finger brushing Din's chestplate and for a moment, with her small hands on them both, she linked them together, and whatever hurt and unspoken words he and Boba had harbored dissipated into the universe. 
She had a firm face and stern eyes despite her age–a childhood cut too short. She, at four, may already know of danger and death, and her place in all of it. In a flash, Din saw a small boy hidden in a red hood looking back at him—reaching out—screaming for his mother. And with an unheard clang on an anvil working beskar he was back, looking at this freckled, fair girl with hurt soulful eyes. 
And a small scar in the same exact place Natus had his. 
"I'm Rey," she said—proud of every word, "It's nice to meet you."
"They sent me after her." Anger shook his voice as he bit out three words Boba prayed to the Maker she wouldn't understand. 
"Hot or cold."
At these words Din's jaw clenched, drawing blood from his cheek. Boba's fists balled so tightly Din could hear the leather creaking from where he stood. "So she stays with me now."
Fett obviously skipped a lot in between, but enough went without saying.
She will never go back.
"I said the oath," He was full of warmth and pride. "She's my ad'ika."
"I'm happy for you." 
"You're looking at it," Rey piped up softly. Her hand moved some of the hair blocking Din's view of her scar. Now he saw it wasn't red and angry like Natus' cut, it had scabbed and healed over rotations ago—losing a time war and fading into her skin as a small ice-like sliver. "You want to know."
"Yes. Someone I care about a lot has a similar mark."
Boba's helm turned a sliver of a degree, he must now understand the depths of Din's affection for the Sith but he didn't comment.
"They hurt my mommy and daddy," her voice a broken whimper. "I got mad. They wanted me to not remember anymore." Her small, childlike hand touched her scar again.
"There was a nice man in a black mask. He held my hand and told them: no more!"
"Wait," Boba breathed, "Nice man in a black mask? Karking Darth Vader??" The men winced at Boba's language again.
Rey nodded happily. 
"But your scratch, they wanted you to forget?" 
"Yes. Then my head hurt bad. But he helped me."
Din had the start of an answer.
"Thank you," he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She smiled up at him, a tooth missing.
Mission now set, Din quickly turned to leave, Fett caught his arm at the elbow. 
His voice a hiss, "Wait. If you go now while they are docked or anywhere near that hub—it's a death trap Din. They would never give him up easy. You will get swarmed and will lose any trust you ever gained."
Din knew he was right. But he had a thought of those Imps hurting him like they hurt her, with maybe less reservation because he wasn't child—maybe they didn't think that way. No matter, it clawed at him, seared in his mind, urging action. He knew he didn't have long. 
"You heard her about forgetting. Natus—Luke—How many times do you think…"
Fett looked down at Rey.
"I can't leave him. Like you can't leave her. He knows something is wrong. I can't let him forget. Not now." Not when Leia is there too.
"I'm not going to put her back in danger."
"I would never ask that of you."
"I know."
Din stepped through the latch separating the ships. Boba continued, "Reach me if you need a quick escape."
Din nodded, the door between them slid shut, and the ships separated.
—-
Leia had felt the Descant dock with a low rumble and a jolt so subtle it would have gone unnoticed if she weren't trapped in a bright, blank cell. The rumble and the jolt, however minor, were a disruption in the otherwise unchanging monotony, a reminder that the galaxy outside still moved and shifted; she could only pray that the pawns she put in place were strong enough to shift the tide in her direction. It was what she excelled at, after all.
Her intricate braids were held up by a sharp blade that, at a moment's notice, she could brandish or slowly use the tool to chip away through the backside of the door's control panel. She could knock out a trooper, commandeer a pod, and be in lightspeed minutes before an alarm would even sound. Leia knew she would neither fight nor flee, and the opportunity, the ability, and the willingness to do so were more torturous than anything the cell itself could muster.
She mediated some, always keeping her brother and his whereabouts in a quiet corner in her mind. Before everything fell apart that day an eternity ago, he had been a steady constant to her–-and she knew it went both ways. In some way she always had known of their shared blood, drawing to him like a magnet in her head. Now, Leia knew she also still had a home in that quiet part of his mind, but it felt like that home had been boarded up, or the path to the home eroded away.She still felt him. Kept him close.
Thus Leia knew when the Mandalorian executed his part of the plan. Neither of them had been clear on specifics, just–say his name. Get through to him. Find a way. 
Well, the hunter certainly found a way. A blush found its way to her face, the tips of her ears turning a shade of red. Leia was, thankfully, able to tune out their connection momentarily, choosing to focus on… literally anything else. Even her dull box. 
She didn't fail to notice, before tunning him out, his feelings of dread soften and even turn to bright comfort she hadn't felt in a long time. How rare, she thought, love in a place like this.
Leia froze the instant she felt him again. With her absence, he had gotten close; a plume of worry and fear surrounded his movements—that's what snapped her attention to him. Maybe the Mandalorian got through to her brother a bit too well…
The seamless panels of durasteel parted with a light mechanical whirl. The corridor beyond was bathed in more of the cool, sterile light casting sharp shadows on the metal floor. A breeze, carrying the faint scent of recycled air and machinery flooded inwards as her brother stood in the doorway panting, looking like he was living through a nightmare.
"Leia," he paused and sucked in more air, he had been running, "what do I do?"
She jumped to her feet from where she had been failing to meditate. An impending dread was closing in on them both. It was nameless but in the air nonetheless, as real as them both but nowhere to be found. But he was there, seeking her like all the other times before.
"Leave this awful place with me. I have help–lots of it–they are coming soon, we just need to leave and get outside."
"I cannot abandon my father and Master. Or are you suggesting I leave and be with rebel scum?"
He wasn't as far long as she had hoped. Leia pushed down her own panic to speak, needing to be heard more than she needed water or to breathe.
"You've called out to me before. We've met like this briefly, a few times. I need you to remember. Remember me now Luke. You know something is not right."
"I don't know!"
"Focus on what you feel." Her eyes were wide.
"I don't know you!" He pointed a wicked finger at her, his body quivering.
Leia clamped her mouth shut, absorbing the hurt. She took a step forward so that his quivering crooked finger poked her straight in the heart. She could feel his pain seeping through his anger and confusion.
"You came to me just now," she whispered, "why."
His voice made more of a choking sound than actual words. "The Empire is good. I know it to be true. We need order to the chaos. But there are deep and painful secrets being kept from me. Everyone knows but me. And then you show up."
He growled and she didn't dare to stop his flow of words.
"I can't write you off as a fool like my officers would like me to believe. I spoke to a scientist---they are manipulating force users with an operation—I. They are doing something terrible to me, and I don't even know what it is."
"It's true. They are doing something to you, I'm not sure what. But over and over again they make you forget when you remember—when you remember me. They are hurting you." 
Even still, he shook his head like he couldn't fully believe her, "How have I known you all of my life when I've never met you before?"
"I am your sister, Luke."
He dropped his accusing hand with a soft gasp. He knew very few things about this universe and much less about himself, but he knew this to be true.
"And we haven't known each other for very long. Not a lifetime. But I…I feel the same."
Family. 
More than just him and Father. 
"Leia," his voice broken, "help me."
She rushed to him, grasping his face in her hands with gentle urgency and pressed their foreheads together. Energy of the Force bloomed from her, amplifying the beauty of the planet that lay beyond the walls of the Descant. Through this, he tangled his hands into her hair, holding onto her with all his might, a plea for permanence, he would never let go, not when she was this close. Never again. He loved her. 
The floodgates opened, and memories rushed in. The ones with comfort. Feelings of friendship—closeness with faceless people he knew so well. Flashes of family, Leia was there, but so were other people. A home, a stove, cinnamon, nutmeg, warm bluemilk. An old man and woman's faces etched with lines and crinkled eyes—the woman's simile. 
The smile was contagious, it bloomed on his lips, a simple joy. Leia felt it too and she shared her warmth with him in the Force. He wrapped her into a hug, squeezing her somehow even harder. 
More memories followed, a cascade lightheartedness. Laughter—oh, the sound of it was like music, so pure and rare. Someone's laugh, bright and unrestrained, resonated through his mind. It spoke of simpler times, of shared jokes and carefree moments with friends and a droid. He laughed, very light with the memories.
Another laugh, no a cackle, shattered this world–cutting through his mind like the jagged lines on his skin. This wasn't a memory. 
The walls of Leia's cell reeled open with a mechanical hiss. Palpatie—glowing eyes peering from his hood—his clawed hands outstretched at his sides undoing the illusion of the cell. The larger room was lined with data pads, testing tubes, an operating table with restraints cipped open, waiting. 
An interodroid buzzed next to him, and behind that was Pershing, the man didn't look up, he just pushed up his glasses from his hardened stare at the floor. 
Despite the bile, he fell on one knee. Leia stayed tall—lips morphing to a scowl, defiant as the day she was born. They were still so close, he could feel her warmth next to him in his bow.
The soulless cackle continued, and more memories hit him. Bad ones. Sadness, fear. The old couple lay burned, home on fire, the smell of their flesh. Father struck down a cloaked figure, and a horrified scream escaped his own lips.
"Natus, my boy," Palpatine spoke, a squeaky gravely wine, "I came all the way here because I felt your pain."
Natus wouldn't have felt this pain. These memories didn't belong to him, these memories belonged to the other one, the one ripping him in two. The one Leia reached. Luke.
Yet, he still felt the wave of shame and embarrassment that not only was his weakness palpable to his Master, but it was strong enough that it compelled Palpatine to check on him. And to see that he was failing. 
"I'm sorry, Master," he whispered, casting his eyes to the ground. 
Then, Luke reminded him about those memories. Did those memories feel like he was a failure? Certainly not.
"It is my sincerest apologies you had to find out this way, but the princess, manipulative as ever, forced our hand."
"Liar!" Leia cried.
Palpatine continued diplomatically, ignoring the outburst of the girl beside him. "You were sick. Your mind hemorrhaging from a concussion. I had my best scientists save your life. We need to check your mind often…for your saftey. Only the Empire has the technological resources and the facilities for such unprecedented advancements." 
His yellow-bagged eyes grew, "Without me you will surely…" he paused a crawling, tingling feeling, as he placed extra emphasis on every syllable, "...parish."
"Then why not just tell me?" His voice not as strong as he intended. Still on his knees. 
Why didn't you tell me? You told me that Darth Vader betrayed and murdered my father. 
Your father... was seduced by the Dark Side of the Force. He ceased to be the Jedi and "became" the Sith Darth Vader.
His head throbbed.
"The scientists thought that would hurt you more." As his Master continued Pershing didn't budge, didn't look up. Locked, frozen. "But I am telling you now."
A cold washed over him in the Force.
"You know it's not true, trust your feelings."
Search your feelings. You know it to be true. 
Impossible!
"Nonsense. I have loved you, boy, and cared for you for as long as you can remember. I want what is best for you. Come with me now."
The interrodoid buzzed closer. But it wasn't going for him.
It was after Leia.  
"NO!!!"
Then he was falling. Falling. Falling through the clouds.
He searched the Force, frantic for something not bolted to the ground to throw–to collapse the Descant into itself as to how he had done with the Profundity. In half a breath, he scanned the room, sensing every detail: the muscles and veins of windpipes, Pershing's abnormally fast heartbeat, and his shaking hands on a remote button.
There was a slight hiss; he felt a single drop fall a short distance—the sound soft through his own screaming as the drop mixed with a solution. 
Before his breath could be finished, the Force stopped slowing his perception of time as the sound of screaming durasteelpropelled itself at them, followed by a wall of fire. He felt himself thrown to the floor—reaching out to block debris with the Force. 
With an unidentifiable wail, Pershing and Palpatine vanished into the sea of flames. The chemicals ignited along the walls, shattering—pops and bangs—spitting their glass and spilling onto the floor.
Leia's hand found his, yanking him up and pulling him through the chaos. Flames licked at his feet, his cape singeing, smoldering black firey holes into his pristine uniform. The smoke swirled around them, shifting to shades of green and magenta, as they struggled to breathe, sprinting through the demolished opening.
With one glance back into the room, he saw the operating table, restraints still open, reaching out to them. The broken interrogation droid lay amidst melted, warped surgical tools and scattered syringes, vanishing into the thick smoke.
Trial 3.C—
Trial 14.A stim–
Leia!!! I'm here—
No this is wrong—
Trial 21.D—
Trial 27.B, stimulating superimposed inhibitor chip…Pain. 
He was limping badly. The onslaught of memories couldn't be stifled, and everything and anything was a trigger. He was vaguely aware of the smoldering patches burning in rings into his body as they ran. 
The old couple told him to run. That woman after him. He was smaller then, his legs carrying him as fast as he could through the desert. Sand kicking up as he ran and ran.
Was he crying? He was aware that Leia had taken his communication device and was giving commands into it, but her words didn't register in his mind. 
Bleeding and broken. Alarm shrieking and echoing through the red-flashing halls. 
"Initiate evacuation protocol. Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or captured."
"We just need to make it out of the Descant!" Leia cried above the jolt of the speaker.
"Initiate evacuation protocol. Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or captured. Initiate evacuation protocol. Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or captured. Initiate evacuation protocol. Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or captured. Initiate—"
They turned a corner, then another, and another. He kept a strong enough posture to pretend to be in possession of Leia. It worked; troopers practically leaped out of his way—just as they had done every other time he had made the same path with crazed eyes and blood-stained clothes. Because Natus is a monster. 
Horrors he committed came to him. He gasped, and a tear fell. 
They pasted another dozen soldiers all of then running paying them little mind. But it only took one to put two and two together. One com-in and they would all descend upon him.
"Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or—"
A horrible screeching sound ripped through the air, and they followed—leading them to the outside world lit by starlight and burning ships. Hundreds of ties rocketed past them, in the disarray hitting each other, causing multiple collisions in the sky as the tie-fighters desperately returned to their designations, incapable of making a lightspeed retreat by themselves, like cockroaches in the light as rebel fighters loomed down from the heavens. 
An attack of this scale must have taken months to plan. How had he let this happen under his nose? He was thankful.
"Watch out! Go. Go!"
Dazed, he felt as though he were watching himself in a holo--removed from the situation and scenes providing him information seconds behind as he tried to filter through the onslaught of memories.
Leia seized his hand again, jerking him down as a ship hurled itself just above them, slamming into the Descants' hold. Fire and steel tumbled down on them, forcing them to jump blindly, limbs flailing in the air, hitting the ground hard. Tumbling, rolling, damp grass and foliage clinging to him. 
Leia hauled him up once again. 
"Hurry, to the landing spot! We can't slow now—I have you. We are so close!"
Then out of the corner of her eye she spotted the Descant behind them. Troopers were all but running—loading equipment and prisoners back on board. The red lights still flickering, illuminating them in the hellish light, revealing their chains. 
—-
The Crest fell from the sky with a roar.
Din only had seconds after completing the jump to discover the firefight he had been dropped into. By that point, the Crest was already spiraling downwards with a cracked thruster. 
Din's arms strained with the might of pulling up on the controls. He aimed for a patch of trees; it was the best he could do. If he survived and found the siblings, they would have to steal a ship or make that call to Boba. He wished he had told Leia he would come back for them. He would just need to survive this… controlled crash.
It was the beskar that had saved him. 
When he awoke, ears ringing, approximately ten minuets after the impact. Muscles protesting, he dragged himself out of the shards of transparisteel, treelimbs, and smoldering rubble of what used to be his home. 
No time for sentiment now. 
Once his feet were comfortably on the aborial floor Din toggled through the settings on the visor. He ignored the chaos in the sky with swarming X-wings, ties, and the Star Destroyers beginning the slow ground-quaking take-off process. It remindied him of tired banthas trying to stand as they were swarmed by flies. Maybe his humor wasn't fully gone. And somehow he knew Leia was responsible for all of it.
He instead opted to scan the chaos on the ground. No signs of the twins. Maybe they were still trapped inside. Din's heart dropped. He could see the Executor beginning lift off and the Descant's ion engines in the distance—behind three other Star Destroyers—slowly flicking to life. 
Platoons of troopers, plastasteel armor that reflected red lights, marched to their respective ships. Some set up cannons to fire into the sky, while others brandished jetpacks and launched into the air.
Perfect.
A squad of four flew overhead, keeping a fair distance from each other. Timing was crucial. Din reached out, targeting the lagging trooper with his grappling hook. As the trooper flew just above the trees, Din pulled the trigger. The rope shot out, wrapping around the airborne soldier. Despite digging his feet into the ground, Din was flung into the air. 
"What the?!"
They began tumbling and spinning out of control, going higher and higher. Din managed to unclip the pack from the man's chestplate. The engine cut immediately, and they both dropped. With strength he managed to clip the plastasteel to his back, and the engine roared back to life pulling Din skyward while the trooper kept falling into the darkness of the forest below.
Using the pack's momentum, Din navigated the battle, staying low enough to avoid the dogfight above but high enough to evade ground troops. 
Dawn began to creep over the battlefield, the beginnings of light threatening to rise through the forested mountains on the horizon.
Then he saw him. Gideon holding the kid.
Nothing else mattered. He pushed the jetpack to its limit, rocketing towards the fighter where Gideon was forcing the struggling child inside. The kid spotted Din first, using the Force to slip from Gideon's grip. 
Gideon turned just as Din collided with him, both crashing to the ground, a blur of punches and kicks. Pain shot through Din's back as he hit the fighter.
Gideon clawed to his feet, an awful black beam igniting in his hand. Unlike Luke's crimson lightsaber, this blade seemed to devour the light around it, a void of death. The blade pressed to Din's throat—Gideon chose this moment to monologue.
"Hello Din," his voice cold, a cruel twitch of his lips as he revealed to know his name, "I want to do a favor for you," he flashed his teeth, "Assume I know everything. Your bond to Grogu, your blossoming feelings for that little angsty twat, your deal with Princess Leia Organa…You see, I want to help you Din—"
That wasn't a good sign.
"I don't like Natus either. Force users and their obsessive entitlement stand in the way of the true potential of the Galactic Empire. I will be at the center—"
Din whipped around, kicking Gideons leggs out from under him, sending him to the ground with a thud. 
The man reeled, eyes crazed, slamming the black saber into Din's despairing attempts to block. He dodged and intercepted another blow, Din was forced to be defensive in this fight, taking him out of his element as he possessed more technique than Gideon displayed. 
With a particularly hard swing aimed at his neck, Din dropped himself to the floor, sprang back up, kicking the other man down on the chest, the saber retreated to its hilt clattering across the rough gravel and roots. 
Din scrambled, grasping onto the blade to take away Gideon's advantage, swiftly clipping the hilt to his belt, secure. His. When Din whirled, bracing himself from an inevitable kick from the man who was a tad too slow to beat him to the deathly weapon, a blow never came. Instead, Gideon had the kid, his ears down, in one hand and blaster in the other. 
There was a soft "Patu." The man slowly took a step backward.
Something cold and dark paulsed in Dins blood. He thought he had seen some of the worst things the galaxy had offered in these years since his parents and constantly searching through scum pits. But this was the first time he had ever been too terrified to move. 
With all of his concentration, Din slowly raised his hands, dropping his blaster. 
Gideon spat out a tooth, blood dripping from his lips, and limped another step backward, his cape hitting the entrance of the ship. The engines rumbled, the door closed and began to lift into the air. 
Anger raged in his core. 
One. Din breathed, trying to claw himself back together.
The wind from take-off whipped his cape with the long grass that had been trampled from their fight.
Two.
He felt the rough but tattered texture of the glove face brush against the hilt now clipped to his hip.
Three.
The pack shot a plume of smoke and fire. Din was hidden in the clouds in an instant, following like a hawk above the slowly rising fighter carrying his kid. 
The pack's engine cut as the saber ignited. His stomach plummeted, and with an awful sound, the screeching metal and burning chemicals, the top was sliced off of the fighter, sending it spinning. Going down down down.
He heard the child's delighted giggles.
Din turned to see the kid floating (falling) next to him in the air, ears flapping in the wind, almost like a miniature parachutes. 
"Hang on," he grumbled, placing the kid on his shoulders. 
A hand thrust out of the tumbling wreckage clining to Din's cape for purchase but he jetted off—Gideons hand slipped past the cloth. The burning ship continued to fall, finally exploding in the distance.
No one would be able to survive that. Din thought.
Staying in the air, he turned his attention to the fight below.
—-
"Luke NO!!" Leia screamed feeling helpless to her bones.
After all of the tears, months of planning, years of holding out hope, all for just the smallest glimpse—any semblance of his past self—returned to her. And now she was about to lose him because he was being himself.
He held in his straining hand three Star Destroyers. They jerked and lagged in the air, and their ion engines, with nowhere else to place their energy, began crackling storms, rolling in the clouds. 
Splinters of trees and leaves littered the artificial clearing as the forest had been stripped to its roots—the Force releasing itself in the might it took to keep the ships from leaving. 
A tear of blood fell from her brother's eye, it splattered on his white cloak with the dropps of blood from his nose. 
"I know what will happen to them when the Empire is done with them," he whispered. 
The Executor groaned and there was a sound of thunder. The ships shuttered. 
"Luke! Please this will hurt you."
It was Din. He ran up to them, the child clinging to his shoulder. Din held out his arms as if he were speaking to a rabid, wounded animal. 
Luke looked back to them both, his cape smoldering and burning in places as it lashed around behind him. 
"You above others should know," he strained back a scream of pain, stumbling, "they were loading the lab equipment and people. How many others could there be like me? It's too dangerous! They will just keep hurting."
"They lost their leadership and most of their artillery today," Leia tried to reason, "This attack is a massive blow. We will have secured dozens of those ships; we can let three leave. It will take them a while to regroup. We can take them then. But we need you alive."
Luke shook his head, another tear of blood, "No. I more than deserve this."
He opened himself to the Force, beiging to relax in its presence despite the pain. He was aware that like during the battle with the Profundity his feet were no longer on the ground. His arms stretched open—he may have been screaming but he wasn't sure. 
The ships began to move backwards through the sky. His vision formed foggy and white but he knew he could do this.His energy continued when he was no longer aware of a physical world. 
He heard the pleading voice of the Mandalorian. He felt his connection with Leia. Her love and compassion had never left him despite all this time and all the awful things. He felt clarity. 
Names began to come to him. How fitting he would remember them now.
Aunt Brue. Uncle Owen. 
Tatooine.
Obi-wan--Ben.
Anakin.
"My son, come back to me." 
Father?
Luke's grip slipped for a moment, and he plunged back into the physical world. The ships screamed and shook. 
He turned his head slightly, and sure enough, Vader was there.
"Father, I don't want to fight you. But I cannot let them get away."
"I know," Vader didn't move. Both the Mandalorian and Leia had blasters pinned on him. "You are my son, not a lab rat."
Vader lifted his arm, grasping onto the ships. A breath escaped Luke in relief simultaneously to the choking sound of his father's mechanics. The ships began to pull back further and faster. 
They could do it. Together. 
It was a moment, perfect for a breath but spoiled, when he saw Leia and the Mandalorian thrown backward, clawing at their throats. 
Then there was a cackle. 
"I was there for you in your worst moments. I raised you. This is the thanks I recive? You traitor and stain."
Purple lightning escaped Palpatine's pale hand and long yellow fingernails. 
Then Luke remembered Endor.
A sickly smell of ozone and burnt metal, flashes of sharp purple light. Luke dropped his grasp on the Star Destoyers. Panic seeped into his bones—his heart beating faster than if he received adrenaline to the neck. The blank mask peered down on him. Palpatine's obsessive laughter. And the pain that crisscrossed his body, scaring every surface. His biggest mystery. The secret shrouded in darkness the pain. He couldn't breathe. It was as if he were locked in a Force chokehold—trapped.
His father's mechanics sparked, and he could feel his pain. His father still held onto the ships despite everything. There was a strangled, modulated cry. Lighting traveled the tension in the Force like a current, zipping through his father as a conduit and a massive bolt rung outwards. Hitting one of the battleships. Vader fell to his knees. The energy from the ion engines built with the lighting traveled back to his father, striking Palpatine and expanding outwards. 
Two Destroyers slipped his father's grip, disappearing into hyperspace--the third burst.
More lives called out in the Force. 
Luke whipped his head to see Palpatine's pained face one last time as the figure turned to ashes, blown in the wind. Only the cloak remained.
The last pieces of the Descant sparkled in the sky like a meteor shower. 
He was free.
There was a strangled mechanical breath, and Luke rushed to his dying father.
Leia helped Din to his feet; they had all seen much better days. The kid crawled back onto his shoulder, sleep threatening his movements. 
The three of them waited quietly from the dim treeline as Luke held his father in his arms, the dark mask cast on the ground next to them, watching the sunrise together. The Descant's falling particles caught the dawn, reflecting hues ofgold, pink, and lavender over the landscape before blinking out. She saw them exchange a few words, but Leia stayed back—Vader was never her father. 
Anakin disappeared into the Force. 
Luke tried to stand twice, relenting. He fell on his knees—his face to the rising sun, letting the warmth hit him and the memories flood in. There was a joy to it, remembering himself. But each contrasted painfully, a twisting dagger, with a memory of what he had done. 
"What was he like?" Din whispered just above the vocabulator. 
"Kind."
"He was kind before." She gave him a distrustful look. But he continued, "He was. It was buried sometimes, but he was."
"I guess it was something they couldn't take away."
—-
"So I guess this is it." 
The day was bright, too happy for a goodbye. A cargo freighter blazing the resistance insignia took off nearby, blowing the blond's hair. Dozens of ships were now filled to the brim with whatever the Imps couldn't take with them. Leia said it was the largest victory since the desctruction of the Death Star.
The noise was so loud it cut off what he was going to say to Din, so he stopped. They just looked at each other. The words weren't needed anyway. 
Din knew what he needed to do—to say goodbye. Din's hands shook in such an uncontrolled way that it was almost embarrassing as they locked onto the rim of his helmet and lifted upwards, above his jaw. But just before he could look at Luke in the afternoon sun without a screen in the way, his wrists were gently caught. Despite Luke's hands in cuffs, the visor fell back into place.
'No,' he mouthed, shaking his head under the noise of the freighters taking off and landing. 
Don't waste that on me. It was unspoken but heard. Clearly. Like a voice in his mind.
Two guards came and escorted him away up the ramp, and Luke was gone.
END OF PART I
*~*~*~*~*~
Did I just attempt to wrap up the OT, Mando s1 and s2 in 7k words? Yes. I did.
Also what does END OF PART I mean? Absolutely nothing! It makes the most sense in my brain to mark this as the rough halfway point. Yay we made it this far!
27 notes · View notes
dankmyfarrik · 3 months ago
Text
Obi-Wan and Satine were made to dance to Hozier
Approximately 300 frames, many many tears, and 60 hours of my life later; I finally have the finished product. This Obitine animatic has been a dream project of mine and I’m so glad it’s finally done and I can share it with you all.
Of course Ahsoka has the receipts for the council
710 notes · View notes
dankmyfarrik · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Eternal Sunshine | Chapter 9: Know Hope
Masterlist | Previous Chapter
Summary: An alternate universe where the only thing that happens differently is... well, the Emperor wins. And Luke wakes up with a mysterious scar on his temple.
Read it here:
AO3
Welcome back! Sorry about the delay! This took way longer than I was expecting to finish. But here we are - enjoy!
Chapter warnings: Cannon typical violence, Grogu is put in a dangerous situation but is completely fine.
Word Count: ~7k
*~*~*~*~*~*
A few things happen when a Star Destroyer enters lower atmosphere. 
First, because there are other ships that serve similar purposes more eloquently, a Star Destroyer needing to leave the vastness of the galaxy, and stoop so low is considered a rarity and thus a necessity. A docking Star Destroyer is not an everyday occurrence. 
It begins as dark omen cutting through the sky—small at first, eventually growing to eclipse the suns. Large enough the beast ever so slightly captures the curvature of the planet, it dwarfs whatever landmark of civilization or nature lies below it.
Second is what happens in the mind. 
It's a humbling sight that freezes the blood of the non-imperial. 
Then, the wind begins sweeping the land like a beckoning storm. And that's when the roar of the engines, deep and resonant, echo through the valleys, cities, mountains - whatever is in the way, sending shivers down to the marrow.
The only sensible action then becomes surrender. But most of the galaxy, Din had found, was not sensible. Star Destroyers, more often than not, served as the beginnings of glorious tales, a demon descending to find itself unwelcome.
So when the Descant slowly clambered its way through the docking procedures, the shadow cast on the ground growing larger and larger it was a rarity that the planet below it offered no fight. The fight had been beaten out of it years ago, now it had succumb to the great galactic Empire. 
It was an odd sight, Din thought. The world was beautiful: pristine grassy hills, a bright blue-purple sky, soft tufts of cherry blossoms. Yet the planet was swarmed by the Empire; it was a hive home to parasites. Two worlds of freedom and order.
As a passenger, Din was not permitted to land with the Descant. The Crest, forced to depart with a grumble from underpaid and overworked imps, left the Descant and Natus behind. He would have stayed as long as he could have, even against the beckoning draw of the beeping fob in his hand—seeking the bounty, calling him on. Everything in Din's beingknew it was wrong to leave Natus alone and vulnerable. And Leia. Maybe even the Maker didn't know what they were doing to her. But her orders were clear—say his name. Get through to him. Leave if you must.
A glance behind the departing Crest revealed the Descant was exchanging large creates, and to his horror chained people between the Imperial facility. 
The Crest lurched into hyperspace. 
Stars encompassed the viewport.
It wasn't long before Din was circling Tatooine and preparing his own docking procedures. As he got closer, a black dot, a silhouette of a ship against the pale gold marble, slowly slid into focus. His gloved hands paused on the controls.
The silence in the cockpit was palpable, broken only by the hum of the ship's engines and the faint, rhythmic beeping of the navigational systems. Tatooine sprawled beneath him, a desert planet of endless dunes and scorching suns, a placewhere survival was as harsh and unyielding as the landscape itself—an old, familiar pain. The ship in the distance, stark against the golden sands, seemed almost a mirage, a specter born of heat and light. One of the suns eclipsed the planet just behind the Crest, eliminating the shadows.
The familiar husky voice sparked over the com. 
"If you're looking for the trandoshan, I've just bagged him." Slave One drifted closer. The monitor thrummed and beeped innocently. 
Boba broke the silence again, something abnormal lacing his usually jolly tone. "Djarin… I have something you need to see."
"Fett," Din started, believing this to be the reason, "how we left things—"
Solo. We fought. I left you behind. I think you got hurt. 
All unsaid.
"I know." His brother recognized his tone. "This isn't a trick. I respect you. If I ever come to my senses and choose to finally fight you, it will be with honor."
Slave One latched onto the Crest from where they circled high above the desert hell. 
Din entered Boba's ship still aware of the weight of the blaster at his hip, but his hands didn't itch for it like he normallydid seeking through the scum pits. Din trusted him. 
But nothing could have prepared him for the sight when the latch door hissed open. 
A small human girl, her hair tight in braids clung to Boba's leg nervously. At the sight of Din she jolted behind Fett further, only leaving room for her wide eyes to peek over, head as high as his knee pad. Awkwardly but with a demonstrated practice, the burly man placed a comforting and familiar hand on her back. She couldn't have been older than four. 
"Now my kar'ta, it's alright. Din is a friend. He has a little one he watches over too."
Din's chest tightened, a sharp pain piercing through at the thought of leaving the kid with the imps for so long. His only solace was knowing there was a protector on the inside.
Instinctively, he dropped to one knee, trying to make himself as small as possible. Even then, he still towered over her.
"Hi kid."
The attempt was pitiful, even to him. But the act seemed good enough to her. Her eyes looking through him, into his soul and he thought he met her eyes through the visor for a split moment but maybe it was just his imagination. She seemed to see what she was looking for and hesitantly stepped out from Boba's shadow. She reached a hand up, and Fett instinctually held his arm out. They locked pinky fingers as she guided herself and Fett closer to Din. She needed to take three steps for every one of Boba's.
"They must have kept her in one of the most secure places in the whole kirffing galaxy." It was too late to fix his language so both the men just winced. "Yet she got out. They had glowing wristbands on her–maybe something for a shock? This little thing. Can you believe those monsters? And she still got out. An'edee!"
She paused, seeing herself in the reflection of the polished beskar. She reached a tentative hand, the pad of her finger brushing Din's chestplate and for a moment, with her small hands on them both, she linked them together, and whatever hurt and unspoken words he and Boba had harbored dissipated into the universe. 
She had a firm face and stern eyes despite her age–a childhood cut too short. She, at four, may already know of danger and death, and her place in all of it. In a flash, Din saw a small boy hidden in a red hood looking back at him—reaching out—screaming for his mother. And with an unheard clang on an anvil working beskar he was back, looking at this freckled, fair girl with hurt soulful eyes. 
And a small scar in the same exact place Natus had his. 
"I'm Rey," she said—proud of every word, "It's nice to meet you."
"They sent me after her." Anger shook his voice as he bit out three words Boba prayed to the Maker she wouldn't understand. 
"Hot or cold."
At these words Din's jaw clenched, drawing blood from his cheek. Boba's fists balled so tightly Din could hear the leather creaking from where he stood. "So she stays with me now."
Fett obviously skipped a lot in between, but enough went without saying.
She will never go back.
"I said the oath," He was full of warmth and pride. "She's my ad'ika."
"I'm happy for you." 
"You're looking at it," Rey piped up softly. Her hand moved some of the hair blocking Din's view of her scar. Now he saw it wasn't red and angry like Natus' cut, it had scabbed and healed over rotations ago—losing a time war and fading into her skin as a small ice-like sliver. "You want to know."
"Yes. Someone I care about a lot has a similar mark."
Boba's helm turned a sliver of a degree, he must now understand the depths of Din's affection for the Sith but he didn't comment.
"They hurt my mommy and daddy," her voice a broken whimper. "I got mad. They wanted me to not remember anymore." Her small, childlike hand touched her scar again.
"There was a nice man in a black mask. He held my hand and told them: no more!"
"Wait," Boba breathed, "Nice man in a black mask? Karking Darth Vader??" The men winced at Boba's language again.
Rey nodded happily. 
"But your scratch, they wanted you to forget?" 
"Yes. Then my head hurt bad. But he helped me."
Din had the start of an answer.
"Thank you," he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She smiled up at him, a tooth missing.
Mission now set, Din quickly turned to leave, Fett caught his arm at the elbow. 
His voice a hiss, "Wait. If you go now while they are docked or anywhere near that hub—it's a death trap Din. They would never give him up easy. You will get swarmed and will lose any trust you ever gained."
Din knew he was right. But he had a thought of those Imps hurting him like they hurt her, with maybe less reservation because he wasn't child—maybe they didn't think that way. No matter, it clawed at him, seared in his mind, urging action. He knew he didn't have long. 
"You heard her about forgetting. Natus—Luke—How many times do you think…"
Fett looked down at Rey.
"I can't leave him. Like you can't leave her. He knows something is wrong. I can't let him forget. Not now." Not when Leia is there too.
"I'm not going to put her back in danger."
"I would never ask that of you."
"I know."
Din stepped through the latch separating the ships. Boba continued, "Reach me if you need a quick escape."
Din nodded, the door between them slid shut, and the ships separated.
—-
Leia had felt the Descant dock with a low rumble and a jolt so subtle it would have gone unnoticed if she weren't trapped in a bright, blank cell. The rumble and the jolt, however minor, were a disruption in the otherwise unchanging monotony, a reminder that the galaxy outside still moved and shifted; she could only pray that the pawns she put in place were strong enough to shift the tide in her direction. It was what she excelled at, after all.
Her intricate braids were held up by a sharp blade that, at a moment's notice, she could brandish or slowly use the tool to chip away through the backside of the door's control panel. She could knock out a trooper, commandeer a pod, and be in lightspeed minutes before an alarm would even sound. Leia knew she would neither fight nor flee, and the opportunity, the ability, and the willingness to do so were more torturous than anything the cell itself could muster.
She mediated some, always keeping her brother and his whereabouts in a quiet corner in her mind. Before everything fell apart that day an eternity ago, he had been a steady constant to her–-and she knew it went both ways. In some way she always had known of their shared blood, drawing to him like a magnet in her head. Now, Leia knew she also still had a home in that quiet part of his mind, but it felt like that home had been boarded up, or the path to the home eroded away.She still felt him. Kept him close.
Thus Leia knew when the Mandalorian executed his part of the plan. Neither of them had been clear on specifics, just–say his name. Get through to him. Find a way. 
Well, the hunter certainly found a way. A blush found its way to her face, the tips of her ears turning a shade of red. Leia was, thankfully, able to tune out their connection momentarily, choosing to focus on… literally anything else. Even her dull box. 
She didn't fail to notice, before tunning him out, his feelings of dread soften and even turn to bright comfort she hadn't felt in a long time. How rare, she thought, love in a place like this.
Leia froze the instant she felt him again. With her absence, he had gotten close; a plume of worry and fear surrounded his movements—that's what snapped her attention to him. Maybe the Mandalorian got through to her brother a bit too well…
The seamless panels of durasteel parted with a light mechanical whirl. The corridor beyond was bathed in more of the cool, sterile light casting sharp shadows on the metal floor. A breeze, carrying the faint scent of recycled air and machinery flooded inwards as her brother stood in the doorway panting, looking like he was living through a nightmare.
"Leia," he paused and sucked in more air, he had been running, "what do I do?"
She jumped to her feet from where she had been failing to meditate. An impending dread was closing in on them both. It was nameless but in the air nonetheless, as real as them both but nowhere to be found. But he was there, seeking her like all the other times before.
"Leave this awful place with me. I have help–lots of it–they are coming soon, we just need to leave and get outside."
"I cannot abandon my father and Master. Or are you suggesting I leave and be with rebel scum?"
He wasn't as far long as she had hoped. Leia pushed down her own panic to speak, needing to be heard more than she needed water or to breathe.
"You've called out to me before. We've met like this briefly, a few times. I need you to remember. Remember me now Luke. You know something is not right."
"I don't know!"
"Focus on what you feel." Her eyes were wide.
"I don't know you!" He pointed a wicked finger at her, his body quivering.
Leia clamped her mouth shut, absorbing the hurt. She took a step forward so that his quivering crooked finger poked her straight in the heart. She could feel his pain seeping through his anger and confusion.
"You came to me just now," she whispered, "why."
His voice made more of a choking sound than actual words. "The Empire is good. I know it to be true. We need order to the chaos. But there are deep and painful secrets being kept from me. Everyone knows but me. And then you show up."
He growled and she didn't dare to stop his flow of words.
"I can't write you off as a fool like my officers would like me to believe. I spoke to a scientist---they are manipulating force users with an operation—I. They are doing something terrible to me, and I don't even know what it is."
"It's true. They are doing something to you, I'm not sure what. But over and over again they make you forget when you remember—when you remember me. They are hurting you." 
Even still, he shook his head like he couldn't fully believe her, "How have I known you all of my life when I've never met you before?"
"I am your sister, Luke."
He dropped his accusing hand with a soft gasp. He knew very few things about this universe and much less about himself, but he knew this to be true.
"And we haven't known each other for very long. Not a lifetime. But I…I feel the same."
Family. 
More than just him and Father. 
"Leia," his voice broken, "help me."
She rushed to him, grasping his face in her hands with gentle urgency and pressed their foreheads together. Energy of the Force bloomed from her, amplifying the beauty of the planet that lay beyond the walls of the Descant. Through this, he tangled his hands into her hair, holding onto her with all his might, a plea for permanence, he would never let go, not when she was this close. Never again. He loved her. 
The floodgates opened, and memories rushed in. The ones with comfort. Feelings of friendship—closeness with faceless people he knew so well. Flashes of family, Leia was there, but so were other people. A home, a stove, cinnamon, nutmeg, warm bluemilk. An old man and woman's faces etched with lines and crinkled eyes—the woman's simile. 
The smile was contagious, it bloomed on his lips, a simple joy. Leia felt it too and she shared her warmth with him in the Force. He wrapped her into a hug, squeezing her somehow even harder. 
More memories followed, a cascade lightheartedness. Laughter—oh, the sound of it was like music, so pure and rare. Someone's laugh, bright and unrestrained, resonated through his mind. It spoke of simpler times, of shared jokes and carefree moments with friends and a droid. He laughed, very light with the memories.
Another laugh, no a cackle, shattered this world–cutting through his mind like the jagged lines on his skin. This wasn't a memory. 
The walls of Leia's cell reeled open with a mechanical hiss. Palpatie—glowing eyes peering from his hood—his clawed hands outstretched at his sides undoing the illusion of the cell. The larger room was lined with data pads, testing tubes, an operating table with restraints cipped open, waiting. 
An interodroid buzzed next to him, and behind that was Pershing, the man didn't look up, he just pushed up his glasses from his hardened stare at the floor. 
Despite the bile, he fell on one knee. Leia stayed tall—lips morphing to a scowl, defiant as the day she was born. They were still so close, he could feel her warmth next to him in his bow.
The soulless cackle continued, and more memories hit him. Bad ones. Sadness, fear. The old couple lay burned, home on fire, the smell of their flesh. Father struck down a cloaked figure, and a horrified scream escaped his own lips.
"Natus, my boy," Palpatine spoke, a squeaky gravely wine, "I came all the way here because I felt your pain."
Natus wouldn't have felt this pain. These memories didn't belong to him, these memories belonged to the other one, the one ripping him in two. The one Leia reached. Luke.
Yet, he still felt the wave of shame and embarrassment that not only was his weakness palpable to his Master, but it was strong enough that it compelled Palpatine to check on him. And to see that he was failing. 
"I'm sorry, Master," he whispered, casting his eyes to the ground. 
Then, Luke reminded him about those memories. Did those memories feel like he was a failure? Certainly not.
"It is my sincerest apologies you had to find out this way, but the princess, manipulative as ever, forced our hand."
"Liar!" Leia cried.
Palpatine continued diplomatically, ignoring the outburst of the girl beside him. "You were sick. Your mind hemorrhaging from a concussion. I had my best scientists save your life. We need to check your mind often…for your saftey. Only the Empire has the technological resources and the facilities for such unprecedented advancements." 
His yellow-bagged eyes grew, "Without me you will surely…" he paused a crawling, tingling feeling, as he placed extra emphasis on every syllable, "...parish."
"Then why not just tell me?" His voice not as strong as he intended. Still on his knees. 
Why didn't you tell me? You told me that Darth Vader betrayed and murdered my father. 
Your father... was seduced by the Dark Side of the Force. He ceased to be the Jedi and "became" the Sith Darth Vader.
His head throbbed.
"The scientists thought that would hurt you more." As his Master continued Pershing didn't budge, didn't look up. Locked, frozen. "But I am telling you now."
A cold washed over him in the Force.
"You know it's not true, trust your feelings."
Search your feelings. You know it to be true. 
Impossible!
"Nonsense. I have loved you, boy, and cared for you for as long as you can remember. I want what is best for you. Come with me now."
The interrodoid buzzed closer. But it wasn't going for him.
It was after Leia.  
"NO!!!"
Then he was falling. Falling. Falling through the clouds.
He searched the Force, frantic for something not bolted to the ground to throw–to collapse the Descant into itself as to how he had done with the Profundity. In half a breath, he scanned the room, sensing every detail: the muscles and veins of windpipes, Pershing's abnormally fast heartbeat, and his shaking hands on a remote button.
There was a slight hiss; he felt a single drop fall a short distance—the sound soft through his own screaming as the drop mixed with a solution. 
Before his breath could be finished, the Force stopped slowing his perception of time as the sound of screaming durasteelpropelled itself at them, followed by a wall of fire. He felt himself thrown to the floor—reaching out to block debris with the Force. 
With an unidentifiable wail, Pershing and Palpatine vanished into the sea of flames. The chemicals ignited along the walls, shattering—pops and bangs—spitting their glass and spilling onto the floor.
Leia's hand found his, yanking him up and pulling him through the chaos. Flames licked at his feet, his cape singeing, smoldering black firey holes into his pristine uniform. The smoke swirled around them, shifting to shades of green and magenta, as they struggled to breathe, sprinting through the demolished opening.
With one glance back into the room, he saw the operating table, restraints still open, reaching out to them. The broken interrogation droid lay amidst melted, warped surgical tools and scattered syringes, vanishing into the thick smoke.
Trial 3.C—
Trial 14.A stim–
Leia!!! I'm here—
No this is wrong—
Trial 21.D—
Trial 27.B, stimulating superimposed inhibitor chip…Pain. 
He was limping badly. The onslaught of memories couldn't be stifled, and everything and anything was a trigger. He was vaguely aware of the smoldering patches burning in rings into his body as they ran. 
The old couple told him to run. That woman after him. He was smaller then, his legs carrying him as fast as he could through the desert. Sand kicking up as he ran and ran.
Was he crying? He was aware that Leia had taken his communication device and was giving commands into it, but her words didn't register in his mind. 
Bleeding and broken. Alarm shrieking and echoing through the red-flashing halls. 
"Initiate evacuation protocol. Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or captured."
"We just need to make it out of the Descant!" Leia cried above the jolt of the speaker.
"Initiate evacuation protocol. Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or captured. Initiate evacuation protocol. Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or captured. Initiate evacuation protocol. Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or captured. Initiate—"
They turned a corner, then another, and another. He kept a strong enough posture to pretend to be in possession of Leia. It worked; troopers practically leaped out of his way—just as they had done every other time he had made the same path with crazed eyes and blood-stained clothes. Because Natus is a monster. 
Horrors he committed came to him. He gasped, and a tear fell. 
They pasted another dozen soldiers all of then running paying them little mind. But it only took one to put two and two together. One com-in and they would all descend upon him.
"Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or—"
A horrible screeching sound ripped through the air, and they followed—leading them to the outside world lit by starlight and burning ships. Hundreds of ties rocketed past them, in the disarray hitting each other, causing multiple collisions in the sky as the tie-fighters desperately returned to their designations, incapable of making a lightspeed retreat by themselves, like cockroaches in the light as rebel fighters loomed down from the heavens. 
An attack of this scale must have taken months to plan. How had he let this happen under his nose? He was thankful.
"Watch out! Go. Go!"
Dazed, he felt as though he were watching himself in a holo--removed from the situation and scenes providing him information seconds behind as he tried to filter through the onslaught of memories.
Leia seized his hand again, jerking him down as a ship hurled itself just above them, slamming into the Descants' hold. Fire and steel tumbled down on them, forcing them to jump blindly, limbs flailing in the air, hitting the ground hard. Tumbling, rolling, damp grass and foliage clinging to him. 
Leia hauled him up once again. 
"Hurry, to the landing spot! We can't slow now—I have you. We are so close!"
Then out of the corner of her eye she spotted the Descant behind them. Troopers were all but running—loading equipment and prisoners back on board. The red lights still flickering, illuminating them in the hellish light, revealing their chains. 
—-
The Crest fell from the sky with a roar.
Din only had seconds after completing the jump to discover the firefight he had been dropped into. By that point, the Crest was already spiraling downwards with a cracked thruster. 
Din's arms strained with the might of pulling up on the controls. He aimed for a patch of trees; it was the best he could do. If he survived and found the siblings, they would have to steal a ship or make that call to Boba. He wished he had told Leia he would come back for them. He would just need to survive this… controlled crash.
It was the beskar that had saved him. 
When he awoke, ears ringing, approximately ten minuets after the impact. Muscles protesting, he dragged himself out of the shards of transparisteel, treelimbs, and smoldering rubble of what used to be his home. 
No time for sentiment now. 
Once his feet were comfortably on the aborial floor Din toggled through the settings on the visor. He ignored the chaos in the sky with swarming X-wings, ties, and the Star Destroyers beginning the slow ground-quaking take-off process. It remindied him of tired banthas trying to stand as they were swarmed by flies. Maybe his humor wasn't fully gone. And somehow he knew Leia was responsible for all of it.
He instead opted to scan the chaos on the ground. No signs of the twins. Maybe they were still trapped inside. Din's heart dropped. He could see the Executor beginning lift off and the Descant's ion engines in the distance—behind three other Star Destroyers—slowly flicking to life. 
Platoons of troopers, plastasteel armor that reflected red lights, marched to their respective ships. Some set up cannons to fire into the sky, while others brandished jetpacks and launched into the air.
Perfect.
A squad of four flew overhead, keeping a fair distance from each other. Timing was crucial. Din reached out, targeting the lagging trooper with his grappling hook. As the trooper flew just above the trees, Din pulled the trigger. The rope shot out, wrapping around the airborne soldier. Despite digging his feet into the ground, Din was flung into the air. 
"What the?!"
They began tumbling and spinning out of control, going higher and higher. Din managed to unclip the pack from the man's chestplate. The engine cut immediately, and they both dropped. With strength he managed to clip the plastasteel to his back, and the engine roared back to life pulling Din skyward while the trooper kept falling into the darkness of the forest below.
Using the pack's momentum, Din navigated the battle, staying low enough to avoid the dogfight above but high enough to evade ground troops. 
Dawn began to creep over the battlefield, the beginnings of light threatening to rise through the forested mountains on the horizon.
Then he saw him. Gideon holding the kid.
Nothing else mattered. He pushed the jetpack to its limit, rocketing towards the fighter where Gideon was forcing the struggling child inside. The kid spotted Din first, using the Force to slip from Gideon's grip. 
Gideon turned just as Din collided with him, both crashing to the ground, a blur of punches and kicks. Pain shot through Din's back as he hit the fighter.
Gideon clawed to his feet, an awful black beam igniting in his hand. Unlike Luke's crimson lightsaber, this blade seemed to devour the light around it, a void of death. The blade pressed to Din's throat—Gideon chose this moment to monologue.
"Hello Din," his voice cold, a cruel twitch of his lips as he revealed to know his name, "I want to do a favor for you," he flashed his teeth, "Assume I know everything. Your bond to Grogu, your blossoming feelings for that little angsty twat, your deal with Princess Leia Organa…You see, I want to help you Din—"
That wasn't a good sign.
"I don't like Natus either. Force users and their obsessive entitlement stand in the way of the true potential of the Galactic Empire. I will be at the center—"
Din whipped around, kicking Gideons leggs out from under him, sending him to the ground with a thud. 
The man reeled, eyes crazed, slamming the black saber into Din's despairing attempts to block. He dodged and intercepted another blow, Din was forced to be defensive in this fight, taking him out of his element as he possessed more technique than Gideon displayed. 
With a particularly hard swing aimed at his neck, Din dropped himself to the floor, sprang back up, kicking the other man down on the chest, the saber retreated to its hilt clattering across the rough gravel and roots. 
Din scrambled, grasping onto the blade to take away Gideon's advantage, swiftly clipping the hilt to his belt, secure. His. When Din whirled, bracing himself from an inevitable kick from the man who was a tad too slow to beat him to the deathly weapon, a blow never came. Instead, Gideon had the kid, his ears down, in one hand and blaster in the other. 
There was a soft "Patu." The man slowly took a step backward.
Something cold and dark paulsed in Dins blood. He thought he had seen some of the worst things the galaxy had offered in these years since his parents and constantly searching through scum pits. But this was the first time he had ever been too terrified to move. 
With all of his concentration, Din slowly raised his hands, dropping his blaster. 
Gideon spat out a tooth, blood dripping from his lips, and limped another step backward, his cape hitting the entrance of the ship. The engines rumbled, the door closed and began to lift into the air. 
Anger raged in his core. 
One. Din breathed, trying to claw himself back together.
The wind from take-off whipped his cape with the long grass that had been trampled from their fight.
Two.
He felt the rough but tattered texture of the glove face brush against the hilt now clipped to his hip.
Three.
The pack shot a plume of smoke and fire. Din was hidden in the clouds in an instant, following like a hawk above the slowly rising fighter carrying his kid. 
The pack's engine cut as the saber ignited. His stomach plummeted, and with an awful sound, the screeching metal and burning chemicals, the top was sliced off of the fighter, sending it spinning. Going down down down.
He heard the child's delighted giggles.
Din turned to see the kid floating (falling) next to him in the air, ears flapping in the wind, almost like a miniature parachutes. 
"Hang on," he grumbled, placing the kid on his shoulders. 
A hand thrust out of the tumbling wreckage clining to Din's cape for purchase but he jetted off—Gideons hand slipped past the cloth. The burning ship continued to fall, finally exploding in the distance.
No one would be able to survive that. Din thought.
Staying in the air, he turned his attention to the fight below.
—-
"Luke NO!!" Leia screamed feeling helpless to her bones.
After all of the tears, months of planning, years of holding out hope, all for just the smallest glimpse—any semblance of his past self—returned to her. And now she was about to lose him because he was being himself.
He held in his straining hand three Star Destroyers. They jerked and lagged in the air, and their ion engines, with nowhere else to place their energy, began crackling storms, rolling in the clouds. 
Splinters of trees and leaves littered the artificial clearing as the forest had been stripped to its roots—the Force releasing itself in the might it took to keep the ships from leaving. 
A tear of blood fell from her brother's eye, it splattered on his white cloak with the dropps of blood from his nose. 
"I know what will happen to them when the Empire is done with them," he whispered. 
The Executor groaned and there was a sound of thunder. The ships shuttered. 
"Luke! Please this will hurt you."
It was Din. He ran up to them, the child clinging to his shoulder. Din held out his arms as if he were speaking to a rabid, wounded animal. 
Luke looked back to them both, his cape smoldering and burning in places as it lashed around behind him. 
"You above others should know," he strained back a scream of pain, stumbling, "they were loading the lab equipment and people. How many others could there be like me? It's too dangerous! They will just keep hurting."
"They lost their leadership and most of their artillery today," Leia tried to reason, "This attack is a massive blow. We will have secured dozens of those ships; we can let three leave. It will take them a while to regroup. We can take them then. But we need you alive."
Luke shook his head, another tear of blood, "No. I more than deserve this."
He opened himself to the Force, beiging to relax in its presence despite the pain. He was aware that like during the battle with the Profundity his feet were no longer on the ground. His arms stretched open—he may have been screaming but he wasn't sure. 
The ships began to move backwards through the sky. His vision formed foggy and white but he knew he could do this.His energy continued when he was no longer aware of a physical world. 
He heard the pleading voice of the Mandalorian. He felt his connection with Leia. Her love and compassion had never left him despite all this time and all the awful things. He felt clarity. 
Names began to come to him. How fitting he would remember them now.
Aunt Brue. Uncle Owen. 
Tatooine.
Obi-wan--Ben.
Anakin.
"My son, come back to me." 
Father?
Luke's grip slipped for a moment, and he plunged back into the physical world. The ships screamed and shook. 
He turned his head slightly, and sure enough, Vader was there.
"Father, I don't want to fight you. But I cannot let them get away."
"I know," Vader didn't move. Both the Mandalorian and Leia had blasters pinned on him. "You are my son, not a lab rat."
Vader lifted his arm, grasping onto the ships. A breath escaped Luke in relief simultaneously to the choking sound of his father's mechanics. The ships began to pull back further and faster. 
They could do it. Together. 
It was a moment, perfect for a breath but spoiled, when he saw Leia and the Mandalorian thrown backward, clawing at their throats. 
Then there was a cackle. 
"I was there for you in your worst moments. I raised you. This is the thanks I recive? You traitor and stain."
Purple lightning escaped Palpatine's pale hand and long yellow fingernails. 
Then Luke remembered Endor.
A sickly smell of ozone and burnt metal, flashes of sharp purple light. Luke dropped his grasp on the Star Destoyers. Panic seeped into his bones—his heart beating faster than if he received adrenaline to the neck. The blank mask peered down on him. Palpatine's obsessive laughter. And the pain that crisscrossed his body, scaring every surface. His biggest mystery. The secret shrouded in darkness the pain. He couldn't breathe. It was as if he were locked in a Force chokehold—trapped.
His father's mechanics sparked, and he could feel his pain. His father still held onto the ships despite everything. There was a strangled, modulated cry. Lighting traveled the tension in the Force like a current, zipping through his father as a conduit and a massive bolt rung outwards. Hitting one of the battleships. Vader fell to his knees. The energy from the ion engines built with the lighting traveled back to his father, striking Palpatine and expanding outwards. 
Two Destroyers slipped his father's grip, disappearing into hyperspace--the third burst.
More lives called out in the Force. 
Luke whipped his head to see Palpatine's pained face one last time as the figure turned to ashes, blown in the wind. Only the cloak remained.
The last pieces of the Descant sparkled in the sky like a meteor shower. 
He was free.
There was a strangled mechanical breath, and Luke rushed to his dying father.
Leia helped Din to his feet; they had all seen much better days. The kid crawled back onto his shoulder, sleep threatening his movements. 
The three of them waited quietly from the dim treeline as Luke held his father in his arms, the dark mask cast on the ground next to them, watching the sunrise together. The Descant's falling particles caught the dawn, reflecting hues ofgold, pink, and lavender over the landscape before blinking out. She saw them exchange a few words, but Leia stayed back—Vader was never her father. 
Anakin disappeared into the Force. 
Luke tried to stand twice, relenting. He fell on his knees—his face to the rising sun, letting the warmth hit him and the memories flood in. There was a joy to it, remembering himself. But each contrasted painfully, a twisting dagger, with a memory of what he had done. 
"What was he like?" Din whispered just above the vocabulator. 
"Kind."
"He was kind before." She gave him a distrustful look. But he continued, "He was. It was buried sometimes, but he was."
"I guess it was something they couldn't take away."
—-
"So I guess this is it." 
The day was bright, too happy for a goodbye. A cargo freighter blazing the resistance insignia took off nearby, blowing the blond's hair. Dozens of ships were now filled to the brim with whatever the Imps couldn't take with them. Leia said it was the largest victory since the desctruction of the Death Star.
The noise was so loud it cut off what he was going to say to Din, so he stopped. They just looked at each other. The words weren't needed anyway. 
Din knew what he needed to do—to say goodbye. Din's hands shook in such an uncontrolled way that it was almost embarrassing as they locked onto the rim of his helmet and lifted upwards, above his jaw. But just before he could look at Luke in the afternoon sun without a screen in the way, his wrists were gently caught. Despite Luke's hands in cuffs, the visor fell back into place.
'No,' he mouthed, shaking his head under the noise of the freighters taking off and landing. 
Don't waste that on me. It was unspoken but heard. Clearly. Like a voice in his mind.
Two guards came and escorted him away up the ramp, and Luke was gone.
END OF PART I
*~*~*~*~*~
Did I just attempt to wrap up the OT, Mando s1 and s2 in 7k words? Yes. I did.
Also what does END OF PART I mean? Absolutely nothing! It makes the most sense in my brain to mark this as the rough halfway point. Yay we made it this far!
27 notes · View notes
dankmyfarrik · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Eternal Sunshine | Chapter 9: Know Hope
Masterlist | Previous Chapter
Summary: An alternate universe where the only thing that happens differently is... well, the Emperor wins. And Luke wakes up with a mysterious scar on his temple.
Read it here:
AO3
Welcome back! Sorry about the delay! This took way longer than I was expecting to finish. But here we are - enjoy!
Chapter warnings: Cannon typical violence, Grogu is put in a dangerous situation but is completely fine.
Word Count: ~7k
*~*~*~*~*~*
A few things happen when a Star Destroyer enters lower atmosphere. 
First, because there are other ships that serve similar purposes more eloquently, a Star Destroyer needing to leave the vastness of the galaxy, and stoop so low is considered a rarity and thus a necessity. A docking Star Destroyer is not an everyday occurrence. 
It begins as dark omen cutting through the sky—small at first, eventually growing to eclipse the suns. Large enough the beast ever so slightly captures the curvature of the planet, it dwarfs whatever landmark of civilization or nature lies below it.
Second is what happens in the mind. 
It's a humbling sight that freezes the blood of the non-imperial. 
Then, the wind begins sweeping the land like a beckoning storm. And that's when the roar of the engines, deep and resonant, echo through the valleys, cities, mountains - whatever is in the way, sending shivers down to the marrow.
The only sensible action then becomes surrender. But most of the galaxy, Din had found, was not sensible. Star Destroyers, more often than not, served as the beginnings of glorious tales, a demon descending to find itself unwelcome.
So when the Descant slowly clambered its way through the docking procedures, the shadow cast on the ground growing larger and larger it was a rarity that the planet below it offered no fight. The fight had been beaten out of it years ago, now it had succumb to the great galactic Empire. 
It was an odd sight, Din thought. The world was beautiful: pristine grassy hills, a bright blue-purple sky, soft tufts of cherry blossoms. Yet the planet was swarmed by the Empire; it was a hive home to parasites. Two worlds of freedom and order.
As a passenger, Din was not permitted to land with the Descant. The Crest, forced to depart with a grumble from underpaid and overworked imps, left the Descant and Natus behind. He would have stayed as long as he could have, even against the beckoning draw of the beeping fob in his hand—seeking the bounty, calling him on. Everything in Din's beingknew it was wrong to leave Natus alone and vulnerable. And Leia. Maybe even the Maker didn't know what they were doing to her. But her orders were clear—say his name. Get through to him. Leave if you must.
A glance behind the departing Crest revealed the Descant was exchanging large creates, and to his horror chained people between the Imperial facility. 
The Crest lurched into hyperspace. 
Stars encompassed the viewport.
It wasn't long before Din was circling Tatooine and preparing his own docking procedures. As he got closer, a black dot, a silhouette of a ship against the pale gold marble, slowly slid into focus. His gloved hands paused on the controls.
The silence in the cockpit was palpable, broken only by the hum of the ship's engines and the faint, rhythmic beeping of the navigational systems. Tatooine sprawled beneath him, a desert planet of endless dunes and scorching suns, a placewhere survival was as harsh and unyielding as the landscape itself—an old, familiar pain. The ship in the distance, stark against the golden sands, seemed almost a mirage, a specter born of heat and light. One of the suns eclipsed the planet just behind the Crest, eliminating the shadows.
The familiar husky voice sparked over the com. 
"If you're looking for the trandoshan, I've just bagged him." Slave One drifted closer. The monitor thrummed and beeped innocently. 
Boba broke the silence again, something abnormal lacing his usually jolly tone. "Djarin… I have something you need to see."
"Fett," Din started, believing this to be the reason, "how we left things—"
Solo. We fought. I left you behind. I think you got hurt. 
All unsaid.
"I know." His brother recognized his tone. "This isn't a trick. I respect you. If I ever come to my senses and choose to finally fight you, it will be with honor."
Slave One latched onto the Crest from where they circled high above the desert hell. 
Din entered Boba's ship still aware of the weight of the blaster at his hip, but his hands didn't itch for it like he normallydid seeking through the scum pits. Din trusted him. 
But nothing could have prepared him for the sight when the latch door hissed open. 
A small human girl, her hair tight in braids clung to Boba's leg nervously. At the sight of Din she jolted behind Fett further, only leaving room for her wide eyes to peek over, head as high as his knee pad. Awkwardly but with a demonstrated practice, the burly man placed a comforting and familiar hand on her back. She couldn't have been older than four. 
"Now my kar'ta, it's alright. Din is a friend. He has a little one he watches over too."
Din's chest tightened, a sharp pain piercing through at the thought of leaving the kid with the imps for so long. His only solace was knowing there was a protector on the inside.
Instinctively, he dropped to one knee, trying to make himself as small as possible. Even then, he still towered over her.
"Hi kid."
The attempt was pitiful, even to him. But the act seemed good enough to her. Her eyes looking through him, into his soul and he thought he met her eyes through the visor for a split moment but maybe it was just his imagination. She seemed to see what she was looking for and hesitantly stepped out from Boba's shadow. She reached a hand up, and Fett instinctually held his arm out. They locked pinky fingers as she guided herself and Fett closer to Din. She needed to take three steps for every one of Boba's.
"They must have kept her in one of the most secure places in the whole kirffing galaxy." It was too late to fix his language so both the men just winced. "Yet she got out. They had glowing wristbands on her–maybe something for a shock? This little thing. Can you believe those monsters? And she still got out. An'edee!"
She paused, seeing herself in the reflection of the polished beskar. She reached a tentative hand, the pad of her finger brushing Din's chestplate and for a moment, with her small hands on them both, she linked them together, and whatever hurt and unspoken words he and Boba had harbored dissipated into the universe. 
She had a firm face and stern eyes despite her age–a childhood cut too short. She, at four, may already know of danger and death, and her place in all of it. In a flash, Din saw a small boy hidden in a red hood looking back at him—reaching out—screaming for his mother. And with an unheard clang on an anvil working beskar he was back, looking at this freckled, fair girl with hurt soulful eyes. 
And a small scar in the same exact place Natus had his. 
"I'm Rey," she said—proud of every word, "It's nice to meet you."
"They sent me after her." Anger shook his voice as he bit out three words Boba prayed to the Maker she wouldn't understand. 
"Hot or cold."
At these words Din's jaw clenched, drawing blood from his cheek. Boba's fists balled so tightly Din could hear the leather creaking from where he stood. "So she stays with me now."
Fett obviously skipped a lot in between, but enough went without saying.
She will never go back.
"I said the oath," He was full of warmth and pride. "She's my ad'ika."
"I'm happy for you." 
"You're looking at it," Rey piped up softly. Her hand moved some of the hair blocking Din's view of her scar. Now he saw it wasn't red and angry like Natus' cut, it had scabbed and healed over rotations ago—losing a time war and fading into her skin as a small ice-like sliver. "You want to know."
"Yes. Someone I care about a lot has a similar mark."
Boba's helm turned a sliver of a degree, he must now understand the depths of Din's affection for the Sith but he didn't comment.
"They hurt my mommy and daddy," her voice a broken whimper. "I got mad. They wanted me to not remember anymore." Her small, childlike hand touched her scar again.
"There was a nice man in a black mask. He held my hand and told them: no more!"
"Wait," Boba breathed, "Nice man in a black mask? Karking Darth Vader??" The men winced at Boba's language again.
Rey nodded happily. 
"But your scratch, they wanted you to forget?" 
"Yes. Then my head hurt bad. But he helped me."
Din had the start of an answer.
"Thank you," he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She smiled up at him, a tooth missing.
Mission now set, Din quickly turned to leave, Fett caught his arm at the elbow. 
His voice a hiss, "Wait. If you go now while they are docked or anywhere near that hub—it's a death trap Din. They would never give him up easy. You will get swarmed and will lose any trust you ever gained."
Din knew he was right. But he had a thought of those Imps hurting him like they hurt her, with maybe less reservation because he wasn't child—maybe they didn't think that way. No matter, it clawed at him, seared in his mind, urging action. He knew he didn't have long. 
"You heard her about forgetting. Natus—Luke—How many times do you think…"
Fett looked down at Rey.
"I can't leave him. Like you can't leave her. He knows something is wrong. I can't let him forget. Not now." Not when Leia is there too.
"I'm not going to put her back in danger."
"I would never ask that of you."
"I know."
Din stepped through the latch separating the ships. Boba continued, "Reach me if you need a quick escape."
Din nodded, the door between them slid shut, and the ships separated.
—-
Leia had felt the Descant dock with a low rumble and a jolt so subtle it would have gone unnoticed if she weren't trapped in a bright, blank cell. The rumble and the jolt, however minor, were a disruption in the otherwise unchanging monotony, a reminder that the galaxy outside still moved and shifted; she could only pray that the pawns she put in place were strong enough to shift the tide in her direction. It was what she excelled at, after all.
Her intricate braids were held up by a sharp blade that, at a moment's notice, she could brandish or slowly use the tool to chip away through the backside of the door's control panel. She could knock out a trooper, commandeer a pod, and be in lightspeed minutes before an alarm would even sound. Leia knew she would neither fight nor flee, and the opportunity, the ability, and the willingness to do so were more torturous than anything the cell itself could muster.
She mediated some, always keeping her brother and his whereabouts in a quiet corner in her mind. Before everything fell apart that day an eternity ago, he had been a steady constant to her–-and she knew it went both ways. In some way she always had known of their shared blood, drawing to him like a magnet in her head. Now, Leia knew she also still had a home in that quiet part of his mind, but it felt like that home had been boarded up, or the path to the home eroded away.She still felt him. Kept him close.
Thus Leia knew when the Mandalorian executed his part of the plan. Neither of them had been clear on specifics, just–say his name. Get through to him. Find a way. 
Well, the hunter certainly found a way. A blush found its way to her face, the tips of her ears turning a shade of red. Leia was, thankfully, able to tune out their connection momentarily, choosing to focus on… literally anything else. Even her dull box. 
She didn't fail to notice, before tunning him out, his feelings of dread soften and even turn to bright comfort she hadn't felt in a long time. How rare, she thought, love in a place like this.
Leia froze the instant she felt him again. With her absence, he had gotten close; a plume of worry and fear surrounded his movements—that's what snapped her attention to him. Maybe the Mandalorian got through to her brother a bit too well…
The seamless panels of durasteel parted with a light mechanical whirl. The corridor beyond was bathed in more of the cool, sterile light casting sharp shadows on the metal floor. A breeze, carrying the faint scent of recycled air and machinery flooded inwards as her brother stood in the doorway panting, looking like he was living through a nightmare.
"Leia," he paused and sucked in more air, he had been running, "what do I do?"
She jumped to her feet from where she had been failing to meditate. An impending dread was closing in on them both. It was nameless but in the air nonetheless, as real as them both but nowhere to be found. But he was there, seeking her like all the other times before.
"Leave this awful place with me. I have help–lots of it–they are coming soon, we just need to leave and get outside."
"I cannot abandon my father and Master. Or are you suggesting I leave and be with rebel scum?"
He wasn't as far long as she had hoped. Leia pushed down her own panic to speak, needing to be heard more than she needed water or to breathe.
"You've called out to me before. We've met like this briefly, a few times. I need you to remember. Remember me now Luke. You know something is not right."
"I don't know!"
"Focus on what you feel." Her eyes were wide.
"I don't know you!" He pointed a wicked finger at her, his body quivering.
Leia clamped her mouth shut, absorbing the hurt. She took a step forward so that his quivering crooked finger poked her straight in the heart. She could feel his pain seeping through his anger and confusion.
"You came to me just now," she whispered, "why."
His voice made more of a choking sound than actual words. "The Empire is good. I know it to be true. We need order to the chaos. But there are deep and painful secrets being kept from me. Everyone knows but me. And then you show up."
He growled and she didn't dare to stop his flow of words.
"I can't write you off as a fool like my officers would like me to believe. I spoke to a scientist---they are manipulating force users with an operation—I. They are doing something terrible to me, and I don't even know what it is."
"It's true. They are doing something to you, I'm not sure what. But over and over again they make you forget when you remember—when you remember me. They are hurting you." 
Even still, he shook his head like he couldn't fully believe her, "How have I known you all of my life when I've never met you before?"
"I am your sister, Luke."
He dropped his accusing hand with a soft gasp. He knew very few things about this universe and much less about himself, but he knew this to be true.
"And we haven't known each other for very long. Not a lifetime. But I…I feel the same."
Family. 
More than just him and Father. 
"Leia," his voice broken, "help me."
She rushed to him, grasping his face in her hands with gentle urgency and pressed their foreheads together. Energy of the Force bloomed from her, amplifying the beauty of the planet that lay beyond the walls of the Descant. Through this, he tangled his hands into her hair, holding onto her with all his might, a plea for permanence, he would never let go, not when she was this close. Never again. He loved her. 
The floodgates opened, and memories rushed in. The ones with comfort. Feelings of friendship—closeness with faceless people he knew so well. Flashes of family, Leia was there, but so were other people. A home, a stove, cinnamon, nutmeg, warm bluemilk. An old man and woman's faces etched with lines and crinkled eyes—the woman's simile. 
The smile was contagious, it bloomed on his lips, a simple joy. Leia felt it too and she shared her warmth with him in the Force. He wrapped her into a hug, squeezing her somehow even harder. 
More memories followed, a cascade lightheartedness. Laughter—oh, the sound of it was like music, so pure and rare. Someone's laugh, bright and unrestrained, resonated through his mind. It spoke of simpler times, of shared jokes and carefree moments with friends and a droid. He laughed, very light with the memories.
Another laugh, no a cackle, shattered this world–cutting through his mind like the jagged lines on his skin. This wasn't a memory. 
The walls of Leia's cell reeled open with a mechanical hiss. Palpatie—glowing eyes peering from his hood—his clawed hands outstretched at his sides undoing the illusion of the cell. The larger room was lined with data pads, testing tubes, an operating table with restraints cipped open, waiting. 
An interodroid buzzed next to him, and behind that was Pershing, the man didn't look up, he just pushed up his glasses from his hardened stare at the floor. 
Despite the bile, he fell on one knee. Leia stayed tall—lips morphing to a scowl, defiant as the day she was born. They were still so close, he could feel her warmth next to him in his bow.
The soulless cackle continued, and more memories hit him. Bad ones. Sadness, fear. The old couple lay burned, home on fire, the smell of their flesh. Father struck down a cloaked figure, and a horrified scream escaped his own lips.
"Natus, my boy," Palpatine spoke, a squeaky gravely wine, "I came all the way here because I felt your pain."
Natus wouldn't have felt this pain. These memories didn't belong to him, these memories belonged to the other one, the one ripping him in two. The one Leia reached. Luke.
Yet, he still felt the wave of shame and embarrassment that not only was his weakness palpable to his Master, but it was strong enough that it compelled Palpatine to check on him. And to see that he was failing. 
"I'm sorry, Master," he whispered, casting his eyes to the ground. 
Then, Luke reminded him about those memories. Did those memories feel like he was a failure? Certainly not.
"It is my sincerest apologies you had to find out this way, but the princess, manipulative as ever, forced our hand."
"Liar!" Leia cried.
Palpatine continued diplomatically, ignoring the outburst of the girl beside him. "You were sick. Your mind hemorrhaging from a concussion. I had my best scientists save your life. We need to check your mind often…for your saftey. Only the Empire has the technological resources and the facilities for such unprecedented advancements." 
His yellow-bagged eyes grew, "Without me you will surely…" he paused a crawling, tingling feeling, as he placed extra emphasis on every syllable, "...parish."
"Then why not just tell me?" His voice not as strong as he intended. Still on his knees. 
Why didn't you tell me? You told me that Darth Vader betrayed and murdered my father. 
Your father... was seduced by the Dark Side of the Force. He ceased to be the Jedi and "became" the Sith Darth Vader.
His head throbbed.
"The scientists thought that would hurt you more." As his Master continued Pershing didn't budge, didn't look up. Locked, frozen. "But I am telling you now."
A cold washed over him in the Force.
"You know it's not true, trust your feelings."
Search your feelings. You know it to be true. 
Impossible!
"Nonsense. I have loved you, boy, and cared for you for as long as you can remember. I want what is best for you. Come with me now."
The interrodoid buzzed closer. But it wasn't going for him.
It was after Leia.  
"NO!!!"
Then he was falling. Falling. Falling through the clouds.
He searched the Force, frantic for something not bolted to the ground to throw–to collapse the Descant into itself as to how he had done with the Profundity. In half a breath, he scanned the room, sensing every detail: the muscles and veins of windpipes, Pershing's abnormally fast heartbeat, and his shaking hands on a remote button.
There was a slight hiss; he felt a single drop fall a short distance—the sound soft through his own screaming as the drop mixed with a solution. 
Before his breath could be finished, the Force stopped slowing his perception of time as the sound of screaming durasteelpropelled itself at them, followed by a wall of fire. He felt himself thrown to the floor—reaching out to block debris with the Force. 
With an unidentifiable wail, Pershing and Palpatine vanished into the sea of flames. The chemicals ignited along the walls, shattering—pops and bangs—spitting their glass and spilling onto the floor.
Leia's hand found his, yanking him up and pulling him through the chaos. Flames licked at his feet, his cape singeing, smoldering black firey holes into his pristine uniform. The smoke swirled around them, shifting to shades of green and magenta, as they struggled to breathe, sprinting through the demolished opening.
With one glance back into the room, he saw the operating table, restraints still open, reaching out to them. The broken interrogation droid lay amidst melted, warped surgical tools and scattered syringes, vanishing into the thick smoke.
Trial 3.C—
Trial 14.A stim–
Leia!!! I'm here—
No this is wrong—
Trial 21.D—
Trial 27.B, stimulating superimposed inhibitor chip…Pain. 
He was limping badly. The onslaught of memories couldn't be stifled, and everything and anything was a trigger. He was vaguely aware of the smoldering patches burning in rings into his body as they ran. 
The old couple told him to run. That woman after him. He was smaller then, his legs carrying him as fast as he could through the desert. Sand kicking up as he ran and ran.
Was he crying? He was aware that Leia had taken his communication device and was giving commands into it, but her words didn't register in his mind. 
Bleeding and broken. Alarm shrieking and echoing through the red-flashing halls. 
"Initiate evacuation protocol. Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or captured."
"We just need to make it out of the Descant!" Leia cried above the jolt of the speaker.
"Initiate evacuation protocol. Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or captured. Initiate evacuation protocol. Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or captured. Initiate evacuation protocol. Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or captured. Initiate—"
They turned a corner, then another, and another. He kept a strong enough posture to pretend to be in possession of Leia. It worked; troopers practically leaped out of his way—just as they had done every other time he had made the same path with crazed eyes and blood-stained clothes. Because Natus is a monster. 
Horrors he committed came to him. He gasped, and a tear fell. 
They pasted another dozen soldiers all of then running paying them little mind. But it only took one to put two and two together. One com-in and they would all descend upon him.
"Rebel forces inbound. Anyone left within the hour will be dead or—"
A horrible screeching sound ripped through the air, and they followed—leading them to the outside world lit by starlight and burning ships. Hundreds of ties rocketed past them, in the disarray hitting each other, causing multiple collisions in the sky as the tie-fighters desperately returned to their designations, incapable of making a lightspeed retreat by themselves, like cockroaches in the light as rebel fighters loomed down from the heavens. 
An attack of this scale must have taken months to plan. How had he let this happen under his nose? He was thankful.
"Watch out! Go. Go!"
Dazed, he felt as though he were watching himself in a holo--removed from the situation and scenes providing him information seconds behind as he tried to filter through the onslaught of memories.
Leia seized his hand again, jerking him down as a ship hurled itself just above them, slamming into the Descants' hold. Fire and steel tumbled down on them, forcing them to jump blindly, limbs flailing in the air, hitting the ground hard. Tumbling, rolling, damp grass and foliage clinging to him. 
Leia hauled him up once again. 
"Hurry, to the landing spot! We can't slow now—I have you. We are so close!"
Then out of the corner of her eye she spotted the Descant behind them. Troopers were all but running—loading equipment and prisoners back on board. The red lights still flickering, illuminating them in the hellish light, revealing their chains. 
—-
The Crest fell from the sky with a roar.
Din only had seconds after completing the jump to discover the firefight he had been dropped into. By that point, the Crest was already spiraling downwards with a cracked thruster. 
Din's arms strained with the might of pulling up on the controls. He aimed for a patch of trees; it was the best he could do. If he survived and found the siblings, they would have to steal a ship or make that call to Boba. He wished he had told Leia he would come back for them. He would just need to survive this… controlled crash.
It was the beskar that had saved him. 
When he awoke, ears ringing, approximately ten minuets after the impact. Muscles protesting, he dragged himself out of the shards of transparisteel, treelimbs, and smoldering rubble of what used to be his home. 
No time for sentiment now. 
Once his feet were comfortably on the aborial floor Din toggled through the settings on the visor. He ignored the chaos in the sky with swarming X-wings, ties, and the Star Destroyers beginning the slow ground-quaking take-off process. It remindied him of tired banthas trying to stand as they were swarmed by flies. Maybe his humor wasn't fully gone. And somehow he knew Leia was responsible for all of it.
He instead opted to scan the chaos on the ground. No signs of the twins. Maybe they were still trapped inside. Din's heart dropped. He could see the Executor beginning lift off and the Descant's ion engines in the distance—behind three other Star Destroyers—slowly flicking to life. 
Platoons of troopers, plastasteel armor that reflected red lights, marched to their respective ships. Some set up cannons to fire into the sky, while others brandished jetpacks and launched into the air.
Perfect.
A squad of four flew overhead, keeping a fair distance from each other. Timing was crucial. Din reached out, targeting the lagging trooper with his grappling hook. As the trooper flew just above the trees, Din pulled the trigger. The rope shot out, wrapping around the airborne soldier. Despite digging his feet into the ground, Din was flung into the air. 
"What the?!"
They began tumbling and spinning out of control, going higher and higher. Din managed to unclip the pack from the man's chestplate. The engine cut immediately, and they both dropped. With strength he managed to clip the plastasteel to his back, and the engine roared back to life pulling Din skyward while the trooper kept falling into the darkness of the forest below.
Using the pack's momentum, Din navigated the battle, staying low enough to avoid the dogfight above but high enough to evade ground troops. 
Dawn began to creep over the battlefield, the beginnings of light threatening to rise through the forested mountains on the horizon.
Then he saw him. Gideon holding the kid.
Nothing else mattered. He pushed the jetpack to its limit, rocketing towards the fighter where Gideon was forcing the struggling child inside. The kid spotted Din first, using the Force to slip from Gideon's grip. 
Gideon turned just as Din collided with him, both crashing to the ground, a blur of punches and kicks. Pain shot through Din's back as he hit the fighter.
Gideon clawed to his feet, an awful black beam igniting in his hand. Unlike Luke's crimson lightsaber, this blade seemed to devour the light around it, a void of death. The blade pressed to Din's throat—Gideon chose this moment to monologue.
"Hello Din," his voice cold, a cruel twitch of his lips as he revealed to know his name, "I want to do a favor for you," he flashed his teeth, "Assume I know everything. Your bond to Grogu, your blossoming feelings for that little angsty twat, your deal with Princess Leia Organa…You see, I want to help you Din—"
That wasn't a good sign.
"I don't like Natus either. Force users and their obsessive entitlement stand in the way of the true potential of the Galactic Empire. I will be at the center—"
Din whipped around, kicking Gideons leggs out from under him, sending him to the ground with a thud. 
The man reeled, eyes crazed, slamming the black saber into Din's despairing attempts to block. He dodged and intercepted another blow, Din was forced to be defensive in this fight, taking him out of his element as he possessed more technique than Gideon displayed. 
With a particularly hard swing aimed at his neck, Din dropped himself to the floor, sprang back up, kicking the other man down on the chest, the saber retreated to its hilt clattering across the rough gravel and roots. 
Din scrambled, grasping onto the blade to take away Gideon's advantage, swiftly clipping the hilt to his belt, secure. His. When Din whirled, bracing himself from an inevitable kick from the man who was a tad too slow to beat him to the deathly weapon, a blow never came. Instead, Gideon had the kid, his ears down, in one hand and blaster in the other. 
There was a soft "Patu." The man slowly took a step backward.
Something cold and dark paulsed in Dins blood. He thought he had seen some of the worst things the galaxy had offered in these years since his parents and constantly searching through scum pits. But this was the first time he had ever been too terrified to move. 
With all of his concentration, Din slowly raised his hands, dropping his blaster. 
Gideon spat out a tooth, blood dripping from his lips, and limped another step backward, his cape hitting the entrance of the ship. The engines rumbled, the door closed and began to lift into the air. 
Anger raged in his core. 
One. Din breathed, trying to claw himself back together.
The wind from take-off whipped his cape with the long grass that had been trampled from their fight.
Two.
He felt the rough but tattered texture of the glove face brush against the hilt now clipped to his hip.
Three.
The pack shot a plume of smoke and fire. Din was hidden in the clouds in an instant, following like a hawk above the slowly rising fighter carrying his kid. 
The pack's engine cut as the saber ignited. His stomach plummeted, and with an awful sound, the screeching metal and burning chemicals, the top was sliced off of the fighter, sending it spinning. Going down down down.
He heard the child's delighted giggles.
Din turned to see the kid floating (falling) next to him in the air, ears flapping in the wind, almost like a miniature parachutes. 
"Hang on," he grumbled, placing the kid on his shoulders. 
A hand thrust out of the tumbling wreckage clining to Din's cape for purchase but he jetted off—Gideons hand slipped past the cloth. The burning ship continued to fall, finally exploding in the distance.
No one would be able to survive that. Din thought.
Staying in the air, he turned his attention to the fight below.
—-
"Luke NO!!" Leia screamed feeling helpless to her bones.
After all of the tears, months of planning, years of holding out hope, all for just the smallest glimpse—any semblance of his past self—returned to her. And now she was about to lose him because he was being himself.
He held in his straining hand three Star Destroyers. They jerked and lagged in the air, and their ion engines, with nowhere else to place their energy, began crackling storms, rolling in the clouds. 
Splinters of trees and leaves littered the artificial clearing as the forest had been stripped to its roots—the Force releasing itself in the might it took to keep the ships from leaving. 
A tear of blood fell from her brother's eye, it splattered on his white cloak with the dropps of blood from his nose. 
"I know what will happen to them when the Empire is done with them," he whispered. 
The Executor groaned and there was a sound of thunder. The ships shuttered. 
"Luke! Please this will hurt you."
It was Din. He ran up to them, the child clinging to his shoulder. Din held out his arms as if he were speaking to a rabid, wounded animal. 
Luke looked back to them both, his cape smoldering and burning in places as it lashed around behind him. 
"You above others should know," he strained back a scream of pain, stumbling, "they were loading the lab equipment and people. How many others could there be like me? It's too dangerous! They will just keep hurting."
"They lost their leadership and most of their artillery today," Leia tried to reason, "This attack is a massive blow. We will have secured dozens of those ships; we can let three leave. It will take them a while to regroup. We can take them then. But we need you alive."
Luke shook his head, another tear of blood, "No. I more than deserve this."
He opened himself to the Force, beiging to relax in its presence despite the pain. He was aware that like during the battle with the Profundity his feet were no longer on the ground. His arms stretched open—he may have been screaming but he wasn't sure. 
The ships began to move backwards through the sky. His vision formed foggy and white but he knew he could do this.His energy continued when he was no longer aware of a physical world. 
He heard the pleading voice of the Mandalorian. He felt his connection with Leia. Her love and compassion had never left him despite all this time and all the awful things. He felt clarity. 
Names began to come to him. How fitting he would remember them now.
Aunt Brue. Uncle Owen. 
Tatooine.
Obi-wan--Ben.
Anakin.
"My son, come back to me." 
Father?
Luke's grip slipped for a moment, and he plunged back into the physical world. The ships screamed and shook. 
He turned his head slightly, and sure enough, Vader was there.
"Father, I don't want to fight you. But I cannot let them get away."
"I know," Vader didn't move. Both the Mandalorian and Leia had blasters pinned on him. "You are my son, not a lab rat."
Vader lifted his arm, grasping onto the ships. A breath escaped Luke in relief simultaneously to the choking sound of his father's mechanics. The ships began to pull back further and faster. 
They could do it. Together. 
It was a moment, perfect for a breath but spoiled, when he saw Leia and the Mandalorian thrown backward, clawing at their throats. 
Then there was a cackle. 
"I was there for you in your worst moments. I raised you. This is the thanks I recive? You traitor and stain."
Purple lightning escaped Palpatine's pale hand and long yellow fingernails. 
Then Luke remembered Endor.
A sickly smell of ozone and burnt metal, flashes of sharp purple light. Luke dropped his grasp on the Star Destoyers. Panic seeped into his bones—his heart beating faster than if he received adrenaline to the neck. The blank mask peered down on him. Palpatine's obsessive laughter. And the pain that crisscrossed his body, scaring every surface. His biggest mystery. The secret shrouded in darkness the pain. He couldn't breathe. It was as if he were locked in a Force chokehold—trapped.
His father's mechanics sparked, and he could feel his pain. His father still held onto the ships despite everything. There was a strangled, modulated cry. Lighting traveled the tension in the Force like a current, zipping through his father as a conduit and a massive bolt rung outwards. Hitting one of the battleships. Vader fell to his knees. The energy from the ion engines built with the lighting traveled back to his father, striking Palpatine and expanding outwards. 
Two Destroyers slipped his father's grip, disappearing into hyperspace--the third burst.
More lives called out in the Force. 
Luke whipped his head to see Palpatine's pained face one last time as the figure turned to ashes, blown in the wind. Only the cloak remained.
The last pieces of the Descant sparkled in the sky like a meteor shower. 
He was free.
There was a strangled mechanical breath, and Luke rushed to his dying father.
Leia helped Din to his feet; they had all seen much better days. The kid crawled back onto his shoulder, sleep threatening his movements. 
The three of them waited quietly from the dim treeline as Luke held his father in his arms, the dark mask cast on the ground next to them, watching the sunrise together. The Descant's falling particles caught the dawn, reflecting hues ofgold, pink, and lavender over the landscape before blinking out. She saw them exchange a few words, but Leia stayed back—Vader was never her father. 
Anakin disappeared into the Force. 
Luke tried to stand twice, relenting. He fell on his knees—his face to the rising sun, letting the warmth hit him and the memories flood in. There was a joy to it, remembering himself. But each contrasted painfully, a twisting dagger, with a memory of what he had done. 
"What was he like?" Din whispered just above the vocabulator. 
"Kind."
"He was kind before." She gave him a distrustful look. But he continued, "He was. It was buried sometimes, but he was."
"I guess it was something they couldn't take away."
—-
"So I guess this is it." 
The day was bright, too happy for a goodbye. A cargo freighter blazing the resistance insignia took off nearby, blowing the blond's hair. Dozens of ships were now filled to the brim with whatever the Imps couldn't take with them. Leia said it was the largest victory since the desctruction of the Death Star.
The noise was so loud it cut off what he was going to say to Din, so he stopped. They just looked at each other. The words weren't needed anyway. 
Din knew what he needed to do—to say goodbye. Din's hands shook in such an uncontrolled way that it was almost embarrassing as they locked onto the rim of his helmet and lifted upwards, above his jaw. But just before he could look at Luke in the afternoon sun without a screen in the way, his wrists were gently caught. Despite Luke's hands in cuffs, the visor fell back into place.
'No,' he mouthed, shaking his head under the noise of the freighters taking off and landing. 
Don't waste that on me. It was unspoken but heard. Clearly. Like a voice in his mind.
Two guards came and escorted him away up the ramp, and Luke was gone.
END OF PART I
*~*~*~*~*~
Did I just attempt to wrap up the OT, Mando s1 and s2 in 7k words? Yes. I did.
Also what does END OF PART I mean? Absolutely nothing! It makes the most sense in my brain to mark this as the rough halfway point. Yay we made it this far!
27 notes · View notes
dankmyfarrik · 3 months ago
Text
Chapter delay!
Sorry everyone—it’s the longest chapter yet and I need to make sure I get it right. Expect the chapter around Wednesday (if not sooner).
Eternal Sunshine | Chapter 9
8/4/24 at 5:30pm EST
Summary: An alternate universe where the only thing that happens differently is… well, the Emperor wins. And Luke wakes up with a mysterious scar on his temple.
Read it here: Tumblr | AO3
2 notes · View notes
dankmyfarrik · 3 months ago
Text
Eternal Sunshine | Chapter 9
8/4/24 at 5:30pm EST
Summary: An alternate universe where the only thing that happens differently is… well, the Emperor wins. And Luke wakes up with a mysterious scar on his temple.
Read it here: Tumblr | AO3
2 notes · View notes
dankmyfarrik · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
In case Etsy takes their new puritanist cause seriously and indeed removes/bans all adult art on July 29th...so long! All my zines are 25% off this weekend 🫡
40 notes · View notes
dankmyfarrik · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind | Chapter 8: Happy Is The Blameless
Masterlist | Previous Chapter
Summary: An alternate universe where the only thing that happens differently is... well, the Emperor wins. And Luke wakes up with a mysterious scar on his temple.
Read it here:
AO3
Chapter Warnings: Surgical torture, (very brief) thoughts of past self-harm.
Welp, I finally went overboard. This chapter contains the longest spice scene I have dared to write (as of yet). Please 18+!!
Word count: ~5.5k
-----
Darkness all around empty, black soulless. Finally, his senses are returning to him. Not another misplaced dream. He looked down at his hands, no sand, only black. But then he could just about make out the shadow of his hand in the darkness. A dim light shone from off in the distance and against his will or maybe just his best judgment—he followed. The world tipped upside down. In an instant, it felt as though the blackness was chasing him.
Dragging him down. 
Pulling him under. 
Drowning. 
Fear. 
"Yes, use the fear," Father had said. "Channel your anger. Let it flow through you." But it all felt wrong now. 
It's all so terribly wrong.
"Help!"
He screamed towards the light. Voice cracking, turning into a life or death panic. "Help, help me please! Don't let me stay here!" His voice was shaking and cracking as he ran towards the light as fast as his feet would carry him. He tripped and scrambled back. Desperate. 
"Take me away from here!" 
"Luke!?" It was that woman. Leia. 
"Luke, take my hand." She was there just in front of him. Kind eyes. A face he had always known as if it were his own. He reached out, straining, but something twisted around his ankle, dragging him back. 
"Leia!" The pads of their fingers scrapped against each other but not enough to gain purchase. He was pulled further away.
"Help me! Save me! It's all wrong, don't forget me please!"
No no no. 
He jolted up, eyes bloodshot, hair stuck to sweat on his forehead, chest hammering. 
"Leia!!" He screamed into the blinding light. 
"Don't let me forget again!! Not again! Please!!"
Bright light shone directly into his eyes and behind it eclipsed a black soulless droid. A droid holding a spinning surgical blade inches from his forehead. He reached out in a panic to swat it away, but his hands were restrained. Feet restrainedaround his ankle to an operation table. Luke kicked and thrashed, hyperventilating.
"Leia! Leia! Help me!" He force-slammed the droid to bits against the wall with a buck of his head. Another entered the room, and he lifted his hand but was stopped by the restraint. Stupid move. That split-second delay was all that was needed for someone. A human. To press a mask to his face, gas flooded his nostrils and his eyes drooped before he could even resist.
It was forgotten.
Natus woke in his bed, head pounding, eyes felt like they were sunk into his skull. A smeared drop of blood on his temple. An empty space noticeable next to him on the bed. The Mandalorian won't be back with the bounty for at least another week. He felt the loneliness like a hole in his heart. Natus ran to the fresher to vomit up nothing. 
------
The Crest landed softly on a bed of wildflowers. The Naboo sunrise lightened the sky with streaks of pinks and oranges, and clouds lit from the bottom with a warm, fiery glow. The colors lightly reflected off of Din's armor, and even with the visor, he knew it was quite a vision. He missed the feeling—when the sun first kisses the skin—seeping deep into his pores. The leather strapped tight to his body was all the more suffocating. 
The fob beeped in his hand, and Din began the trek to the top of the sloped hill. The petals around him turned to open to the morning, dew catching on their leaves, popping with color with every inch the sun rose.
Despite the beautiful scene encompassing him, unease remained present within him, as he knew, or maybe it was that he didn't know what awaited him when he got to the top.
Din saw her white robes first. But it was undeniable in a moment she was indeed the woman from the broken, dusty holo.
At last.
Hope.
Like Luke, time had not been kind to her, but despite it all she stood tall, strong, courageous, wind adrift in the few strands of hair allowed to be free from her intricate braids. 
"Hunter, why do you hesitate?"
Din had vowed to not repeat the mistake he had made with Solo. But now that he finally had her, he didn't know what he could say. She filled the silence for him.
"This is where my mother grew up and fell in love. I know so little about my mother. An old friend told me to look here. I thought I should visit at least once, young love, the beginnings of a family. I can feel it. Can't you?"
He could.
"Given that my brother is the reason why you are here, this dream in the flowers didn't end so well."
Brother. 
Din jolted a pause, waiting for his thoughts to catch up to his racing blood. It made perfect sense; he could see it within them both now. They were part of each other.
She just stared intently at him. The only other person who could see straight past the visor and into his eyes. How was that even possible?
"You care about him," she whispered, the sound disappearing into the wind like a secret for them both.
Din shifted nervously, the flowers brushing against his leg. 
He decided there was no better time than now to jump off the metaphorical ledge, the one he had been inching closer and closer to, subtly with questions to Natus, but now it was time for action. He had no true loyalty to the Empire.
"Leia, I need your help."
The flowers lightly fluttered around them. The horizon was much brighter now. A warm light.
"And it seems I am in need of yours as well. What remains of my family I will fight fiercely for. Luke was the last person in the galaxy I ever thought would turn…" She bit off her words and glanced down. Silence broken only by the light breeze filled them both. When she started again, her tone changed.
"You recently captured Han Solo."
Din held his breath, this could be his only shot. They needed to trust each other, and how could she ever trust him now? He was a villain to her. 
"Is Han still alive?" But the words were not aquisitory; she was just stating a fact, that she knew. She didn't hold malice against him. Even though she should.
"I don't know," he swallowed hard, regret filling him up and flooding him, suffocating him. "I'm so sorry."
She nodded quickly, "Thank you."
"Don't—"
"No," she said, "I mean it," Leia worked to compose herself. She morphed subtly, straightening her posture, holding her head higher. 
"Now, enough chit-chat. You won't need those," she gestured to the binders dangling at his hip, "Comon', hurry up." And she strode straight past the fumbling Din to the Crest. "We have a galaxy to save."
Deep, somewhere in the heart of the galaxy, the Crest's ramp lowered, the ship—his home—consumed within the belly of the Descant. Two figures, instantly recognizable, stood on the other side, like demons, greeting their guests to hell. 
The first, Natus, as expected. Dressed as stiffly and blindingly white as the lights reflecting off of the troopers' armor. 
The second rivaled the vacuum of space itself. 
It took everything within Din to keep his pose, to not outwardly twitch a muscle. But Leia, in all of her courage, marched straight past him once more without a glance behind her, leading the way to whatever nightmare was before her. 
Her boots clicked against the ramp, changing in sound when she made it onto the polished, barren floor. She marched straight through the middle of Natus and the tall, evil figure next to him. 
"Out of my way," she hissed at the first imp who dared to stand in her path. The trooper before her looked as though he genuinely considered following the order of their new prisoner. 
"Not so fast, Princess." The sound, as deep as the thrumming and groaning of tectonic plates, shook the very ship in its orbit to the bottom of the universe.
"Lord Vader," she sounded exasperated, "as much as this routine, as with our conversations, amuse me, I would rather just get to the heart of the matter now. And you wouldn't risk doing that in such a public location."
"We are happy to accommodate," Vader said, tilting his visor to Natus. His sparkling golden eyes transfixed to Leia,without taking his gaze from her face, he clipped binders around her wrists. 
Din stood helplessly at the edge of the Crest's ramp, watching as the troopers parted like a sea. Leia, flanked by Natus and Vader, marched onward, her head held high with unwavering will. The three moved through the sterile, jagged halls, disappearing from sight. A bravery akin to the old heroes his mother spoke of in bedtime stories long ago. Tales that had filled his dreams with fearlessness and a call to the stars. That spirit hadn't died in her. And he wondered if it hadn't died in him either.
"Boys," she huffed, "don't you think this is overkill?" Leia knew they could have sent any trooper to sentence her to a cell, sure if it was just two she could have escaped, she could even handle around five before hesitating at a small battalion, but nevertheless they proved they had the resources. This special escort was more than a power play. But why?
Her last real conversation with her brother before all hell broke loose was just the two of them with bugs chirping and fireflies swirling around them on Endor, Luke told her Vader was their father.
Although a fact, it could never be true. Bail would always be her real father. But as she looked at the two robed figures, one in all black and the other white, she knew, however twisted, this special treatment whether conscious or not, was a familial one and possibly the first time they were all in the same place in this way.  
She thought back to the whispering flower field on Naboo, how could this, more machine than man—a creature next to her, be the one who fell in love with her mother all those years ago. 
But for now, she had to focus on the matter at hand. Leia eyed daggers into Vader as they stopped outside of a cell. The entry slid open to a small and simple room, just like all the others she had been temporarily held captive in over the years. 
She stepped in without looking back, and the door closed behind her with a snap and hiss. 
Natus looked up to his father as they shared a moment of quiet behind the other side of the cell door. 
"My son, you know what to do. Search your feelings."
And Vader kept walking down the hall, leaving Natus alone with this beautiful, familiar and mysterious woman on the other side of the door. 
"Search your feelings," he whispered to himself. It sounded so simple but there was a war behind his eyes, so much shrieking and crashing, burning and confusion. Hallways that twisted around each other, leading to nowhere, and nowhere had answers. 
"Search your feelings. I know what to do." He said louder this time, but there was no confidence in his cadence. 
Everything was so loud. He balled his fists, gloves creaking. He could do exactly what happened with Solo, after Father had helped him, he wouldn't make more mistakes, he would feel enlightened by doing what is right for the Empire. He could do that again with her.
"I know what to do." He rocked on his heels, back and forth ever so slightly, gaining momentum, pushing forward to a step. Natus pressed a button on the panel, and the cell door slid open. 
She turned to face him, their eyes met. Her brown eyes were so full of care seeing into his soul and he felt all the gold drain from his own eyes. All the malice and revenge left him like a kick to the gut. He could double over and gasp raggedly for air but he just stood motionless, unable to move a muscle. 
"Is Vader gone?" She also seemed stunned and breathless.
"Why would I ever tell you that?" His lips barely moved to form the words. His voice foreign and distant. Embarrassingly quiet. 
Yes.
"Luke."
Natus shook his head vigorously, bangs whipping back and forth. He was physically unable to bring words past his throat. He stepped back, the will to escape this shrinking box clawing at him, but the will to stay, be with this woman just a second longer, rung through every fiber of his being. 
"You called out to me," she said in a rush to get all the words out before he disappeared, either from the room or from his mind. "Don't you remember? It was through the force. A dream. You asked for my help?"
A pause, he yanked his eyes away from the door back to her.
"I'm here Luke. Just like you said. I'm here."
"You—" his voice was so dry and it cracked heavily, barely making a sound. She stepped closer, they were nearly touching. In the calm, he searched his feelings. "You have kind eyes."
She put a hand on his lifelessly pale cheek. The world stopped spinning. Her hand was so soft. A tear fell against his will. He pressed a white-gloved hand to his face, and it came back damp from the single tear. Silently, he looked back to her.
Shocked from the display of emotion, his blue eyes wide, he ran from the room. 
As soon as Natus was a fair distance away from her, his emotions screamed around him, turning to chaos, slamming into his ears. Even if he ran back to his room with the door closed behind him, the fresher shower on, beating into his back, scalding hot or frozen cold, meditating for hours and hours, bringing himself to the brink of death, Natus knew nothing would be able to drown out the noise this time.
I'm here. Search your feelings. Through passion I gain strength. Just like you said. Through strength I gain power. You know what to do. Through power I gain victory. A dream. Through victory my chains are broken.
Just like you said.
I'm here. 
Though the medical droids have pieced him back together again and again, there is only one other being who he feels comfortable being vulnerable to. Only one place he could go, even if it was against his better judgment. Troopers marched, and ships took off around him, sweeping his cape as he made his way through the hanger, focusing on a signature that had not yet left his consciousness. The screaming noise of the ships were dull in comparison to the chaos in his mind.
"Mandalorian." Natus spoke formally, knowing his voice carried. 
Sure enough, his helmeted head appeared from where he was working on a panel of the ship—an unnecessary fix to fly—his hunter was stalling. And Natus couldn't be more relieved. He could focus on this. The voices in his head quieted to a background hum.  
The Mandalorian jumped to the floor from atop the ship with a grace that revealed decades of practice. 
"I have an urgent matter in which I need to inspect your ship." Natus coughed slightly; on top of all of the other emotions, he felt like a fool. 
"If it's urgent." The hunter towered over him, helm tilted down, grazing over Natus before turning. "Then follow me."
Natus realized despite being in the ship's proximity countless times, he had never actually stepped inside, and for a moment, he worried he had crossed a boundary. But the moment couldn't linger because the second they were bothshielded from outside eyes and security cams, the Mandalorian crossed several feet in a flash to be closer to him, scanning him for injury. 
"Are you alright? What happened."
Natus released a shaky breath, relaxing to the proximity. He was here. He was safe.
"I'm fine."
The helmet titled and stared.
"It was that woman, she just had one look at me and told me things I don't believe, and I fell apart. I'm a weak fool. Who lets their prisoners interrogate them! Father would be so disappointed."
"Why?" Din gently pushed. Not sure of what he was hoping to uncover. 
"He told me to search my feelings. But I don't have feelings, only voices crying out in my head. I can never extrapolate anything that makes sense. It's clouded."
In a single movement, Din scooped the Sith into his arms, resting his head atop the other man, applying a pressure and comfort that he knew was so rare. 
"Now that can't be all true," his deep voice rumbled; every one of Natus' senses filled with the man before him. Smoke and woodchips. A surprising softness despite the armor. He focused on this, letting the waves wash over him, taking him far away from the Descant, far away from this damned galaxy. He wanted to be closer to this strange source of dependability, companionship, and comfort. To feel him more. And he knew the other man wanted that as well. What an odd pair they are, indeed. "You can feel this and the floor beneath our feet," Natus released a shaky exhale in his arms, "you can feel me."
Din leaned backward, resting against a wall, bringing Natus with him, letting the weight of the man fall even more on him. Natus nestled into him, slotting their arms and legs together and burying his face in Din's neck just so that he could feel the warmth of his breath through the cowl. Din's hand followed random paths and circles along the blond's back, feeling him relax even more. Natus responded in turn, moving his hands all across Dins' body, his back, his shoulders, arms. Through all of this, Din's pelvis was in a wonderfully close position to the other man's in between his legs where they half stood half lay, learning each other once again but with so many layers of clothing and armor in the way. 
Din didn't dare move or initiate despite the uncontrolled feeling his pants were beginning to feel too tight. Natus was in a very vulnerable state, and Din wanted to help him, which meant letting the blond lead in whatever action he was comfortable with. 
Sure enough, as if Natus read his mind, he guided Din's hand to the swell of his ass. Din gripped the skin and clothes with a wide grasp and earned a whimper in his ear. Understanding the message, Din lifted the man up, lightly dragging him along the bulge in his pants, feeling the other man was just as hard as he was. Din started a slow rhythm. The friction dueto the clothes catching between them in all of the right places.
"Mh, this okay?" Din asked, dazed already by just a few lifts.
"s'Yes please."
Din could already tell this was going to be ragged and desperate...and leave a mess. Despite knowing it would also be mind-blowing and cataclysmic, that's not what he wanted with this man right now. 
With a particularly drawn out thrust he asked, "Do you want me to take you to my room?"
The other man, now clinging to him for purchase, nose having wriggled it's was through Din's cowl, hot breath on Din's neck, their only skin touching, "Please." 
"So polite."
In a flash Din turned them around, wrapping his arms around the other man's waist, and walked them only a few feet to the side, where he strung open the cloth revealing the small dim bunk with hardly enough room for them both to fit.
"Oh," the blond let out a small light chuckle, a warm smile crossing his features—possibly the rarest sight in the galaxy. He leaned his head back on Din's breastplate, admiring the view before him. "My room is slightly bigger. But I like yours more." 
The room was small, yes, but it was warm, and quiet. It didn't show the vastness of space or have magically always pressed flat sheets that were blinding white and vast empty spaces that faintly smelled like disinfectant. No, it was rough and it was home. 
"I'm glad," Din rasped, leading the other man in and closing the curtain behind them. The room became dark, but Din could just about make out the features on the man's face before him. Soft relaxed smile, pupils blown. 
He felt hands on his belt and heard a click, his holster and all fell to the floor. Followed by Din's pauldrons, and chestplate. Din started working on unclipping the Sith's cape, unpinning the black flap over his heart, revealing the plain white jumper. Until, of course, he took that off too. After a sufficient amount of clothing and armor had been removed, Din laid the blond on his bed, then crawled his way on top of the other man. 
Their hands drawing over each other, the blond sucking marks into Din's skin as Din rolled his cock into the man's upper thigh, hand below messaging an opening, earning small hums and gasps from the lips occasionally pausing their endeavors. 
When it was time, Din sat up, bringing the blond with him, and turned him around so that the Sith's back was to his chest, Din's cock twitched next to his ass earning a small grind backwards. An arm went below the bed, patting around a few times before grasping the small bottle and bringing it up to them, Din flipped the lid open. Then, he reached in front of him to grab Natus' neglected member, and began stroking him, spreading the wetness so that his hand ran smoothly along him. Din's forearm and bicep, as his arm worked, locked the man in place as he wriggled on his lap. Din aligned his member to the other man's opening and ever so slightly putting his tip into him. 
With his free hand, Din reached upwards, heart pounding with nerves, but once again, he thought to Leia and her courage and unclipped the latch on his visor, releasing a hiss.
Natus gasped, his stomach filling with butterflies and fear—" But!" Din tightened his grip on his cock while his hand worked. The helm dropped on the bed with a dull thud. 
"Keep looking forwards Mesh'la. I trust you." And he slid the rest of the way into the tight warmth and wetness.
They both released a gasp. And oh, how Din should have done this ages ago. This was… hardly bending the rules of the creed. A mere oversight really. He breathed in fully the other man's scent, dragging his tongue hot across the man's neck as he set a slow, brutal pace. 
I trust you. 
Everything swirled, senses maxed out. All six inches of him buried deep, his hand working his cock, but stars, his voice—his real voice—without the visor. So pure and soft and he stored it in a secret place in his mind and heart that could never be forgotten. And oh, he has scruff. Natus didn't try to think about what his lover looked like below the helm—an invasion of privacy—he knew he would never be given the opportunity. Besides, after their first encounter, his curiosity surrendered to a fierce respect. But the light scratching along his shoulder and then neck indicating a bit of facial hair suited the man he knew well. Above all, what dizzied him the most—trust. This was the Mandalorians' most sacred religious tradition, yet his helm lay hollow on the bed. For him. He trusted him. Those lips glided along him, leaving marks he would cherish for rotations to come. Soft gasps and moans that were otherwise lost to the vocabulator. Natus kept it all, storing it in a secret place in his mind that could never be touched. The galaxy long forgotten in the best of ways---
"Luke."
An unfiltered voice—a low pleased grown. It was barely above a whisper. A secret. A confession of a sin. Natus' whole body tensed. Was that word a mistake? He couldn't be thinking of another lover...was it intentional? Why did it make him feel such a way? Why did it feel like a child learning to use a naughty word for the first time without knowing what it meant, just that it was wrong.
But Din purposefully ignored the other mans reeling mind and pressed open-mouthed kisses and licks to his neck, grasping his cock slightly harder.
"Say—," Natus' jaw painfully clamped shut, a desperate attempt to stop himself. Hellfire and holy water—the temptation too great.
"Say it again," He got out through gritted teeth. 
He felt the small bite on his neck morph into a smile.
"Luke." A faint voice, hot breath, the subtle scratch followed by teeth, then a kiss. A particularly deep thrust.
A darkest secret. Fit for a shadowed, tucked away room such as this. No one could ever know... particularly Father and Master. And, as far as Natus was concerned, if no one ever found out, maybe, just maybe, they could both lose their religions—at least for as long as they could hold each other. 
His heart kicking against his chest, all wrong in all the right ways.
"Again."
A hard thrust, nearing pain.
"Luke."
Natus cried out, barely forming the words, choppy and broken from the rhythm. "A-gain."
Instead of immediately obliging, the Mandalorian scooped the sith up once more, releasing his grip around his member, leaving him with an obscene noise—a feeling of emptiness and cold—and pinning him flat on his stomach. The blond lay sprawled. Tight lean muscles, small waist, taking up what little space there was on the mattress, slick and waiting for him. 
"Please." Natus whimpered softly, blowing hair that was sticking to his forehead. How could Din refuse?
The Mandalorian crawled on top of him, grabbed a fistful of the blond's hair not to pull hard but to guide away from accidentally getting a glimpse of his face, and nuzzled back to that space on Natus' marked neck. 
It was during that moment when six inches were sliding back into him without a single hitch or helpful guide when Natus, dazed and with rolled back eyes, registered the discarded helm laying immediately next to him on the mattress. It took everything in him not to cum then and there.
"Luke." The voice rasped, grabbing his hair even more firmly. With the new angle, despite Natus not being able to do more than wiggle and prop his ass higher for easier access, his hunter certainly had considerably more leverage. And he knew how to use it.
He pounded again and again, "Luke–Luke–Luke…"
Natus clung to the sheets below him, eyes squeezed shut.
"Ah! A-gain!"
His hunter slid all the way out only to slam back in, jolting him forward on the mattress. 
"L-uke!"
Natus came with a cry, and the Mandalorian wasn't far behind, pumping out his release before collapsing all his weight onto the man below him. In contrast to his last touches, he gently found Natus' ear, nibbling the lobe and whispering one last time before the word could be demonized again.
"My Mesh'la Luke."
They lay together for what could be an eternity, neither of them speaking, because speaking required asking questions and finding answers, and it was better if they pretended Din didn't just do the most forbidden thing in the galaxy. For as long as they stayed in the safety of the dim light, Din could keep his helmet off and could keep licking, and kissing, biting, and using his mouth to feel and live and pleasure for the first time in his life.
He treasured every texture and wanted more and more. He nipped and kissed and licked downwards, following a trail, heheard the blond moan above him. He had never done this before but stars, has he always wanted to try. To return the favor. To enjoy and pleasure his partner in a new way. He slid to the edge of the bed, pinning the blond from looking up with a strong, muscular arm.
He continued downwards, licking the last of the release, enjoying the taste and the smell of these new sensations. Din was pleasantly surprised how easy it was to coax the man back to full hardness. He slipped his swollen lips over the head of the cock, slowly bobbing, swirling, and tugging with his free hand. 
The Sith, out of instinct, reached out, placing a gentle hand in Din's hair. Like a burn, the Sith recoiled, feeling Din's curls, regretting learning more about what lay behind the helm. But Din reached up, finding the man's hand, placing it back in his hair, letting him guide, enjoying the tug and pull of his hair like a drop of water in a desert.
When the man came in his mouth, he licked up everything and made his way back up, to continue to worship the other man's body with his mouth. His chest, arms, neck, face, near his lips, but a spike of nerves hit him, and he opted to kiss his nose, going higher…
Until finally, Din dragged his tongue along the small slice of a scar over Natus' temple.
The sheets moved as Natus abruptly sat up, careful not to see the other man's head.
"I have to leave. There is something I need to take care of."
And as quickly as they were able to reassemble themselves, he was past the curtain, running down the ramp into the shiphold and gone.
—-
By the time Natus reached Pershing's office, he was already fuming, the force vibrating through every tendon and nerve, setting his skin alight. 
The door flung open and he burst inside. 
"Alright Pershing," he said as a entered, "I'm suddenly very curious about your research. Please, tell me more."
Testing vials and data pads lined the walls and the room rank of disinfectant. The man at the center of it all jumped, turning straight as a board mid-air, then scrambled to adjust his glasses, pushing them upwards on the bridge of his nose.  
"Lord Natus! It's an honor. Really, it is! But—I um, but I." Natus gave him a look that inspired motivation. "As you know, we have been collecting force users for sampling and trials. I specifically oversee the physical manipulation, as you know with the binders test." A long pause, some piece of equipment let out a harmless beep, "I don't want to bore you with the nuances…"
"Are there any other forms of…persuasion? Like mental instead of physical?" 
"Well, Moff Gideon is rather adamant that I don't share about…"
Natus stressed every syllable, fire sparking in his eyes. "I implore you to reconsider."
"Sir, you don't have the clearance to—"
"TELL ME!" The lights in the room flickered and beakers shook with their liquids on the shelf.
"We. We. Well. There is a procedure," Natus' eyes widened in disbelief as Pershing ran a finger along his temple in the exact spot as his scar. When he said "procedure," the other man's eyes wildly searched his own, praying he understood. 
His goggled eyes darted around with the caution of a man whose every word was monitored. "It has shown to be successful. With results better than I had anticipated, so there is no concern there… for force users no matter where they fall on the Metaclorian Scale or spectrum from light to dark." 
Their eyes met again, "Incorporating the latest neuro-synergistic feedback inhibition," he went on fluent and sophisticated, his words bleeding into the soft hum of the machinery. But everything that needed to be said had already been spoken, now the scientist drowned on, trying to dilute his treason in jargon.
Thank you Pershing, you are a good man. 
ADVANCED SCIENCE DIVISION
REPORT #912577-B3
}}
<CHIEF SCIENTIST = {REDACTED}
ISSUE: "UPDATE"
SPECIMEN ID: 000002
NAME: "NATUS">
ULTERIOR: "LK SKYWLKR">
}}
<LOCATION: IMPERIAL RESEARCH CENTER 23-B>
<NATUS has once again reached STAGE THREE under directive: diverging from suggestive protocol: A392D. Resembling self-awareness.> 
<RESPONDENT CONNECTING>
<MESSAGE LOADING>
<This is the fifth time STAGE THREE has been reached. Do you believe it is of any concern?>
<I believe extra precautions are warranted. It is my recommendation that the specimen should not continue to interact with Princess Leia Organa. That has been the primary cause of reaching STAGE 4 previously.>
<MESSAGE LOADING>
<Lord Vader has permitted their interactions on the account of strengthening loyalty to the Empire.>
<With respect, it is my and my team's belief that continued proximity is unwise. Even with this goal in mind.>
<MESSAGE LOADING>
<Without loyalty, your research is meaningless. Treat the specimen's fate as your own. Progress will resume as normal.>
<RESPONDENT DISCONNECTED>
-----
Chapter 9 will be out in 2 weeks.
Reblogs help my story grow 🌱 <3
19 notes · View notes
dankmyfarrik · 4 months ago
Text
This man.
Tumblr media
I’m back on my bullshit
164 notes · View notes
dankmyfarrik · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind | Chapter 8: Happy Is The Blameless
Masterlist | Previous Chapter
Summary: An alternate universe where the only thing that happens differently is... well, the Emperor wins. And Luke wakes up with a mysterious scar on his temple.
Read it here:
AO3
Chapter Warnings: Surgical torture, (very brief) thoughts of past self-harm.
Welp, I finally went overboard. This chapter contains the longest spice scene I have dared to write (as of yet). Please 18+!!
Word count: ~5.5k
-----
Darkness all around empty, black soulless. Finally, his senses are returning to him. Not another misplaced dream. He looked down at his hands, no sand, only black. But then he could just about make out the shadow of his hand in the darkness. A dim light shone from off in the distance and against his will or maybe just his best judgment—he followed. The world tipped upside down. In an instant, it felt as though the blackness was chasing him.
Dragging him down. 
Pulling him under. 
Drowning. 
Fear. 
"Yes, use the fear," Father had said. "Channel your anger. Let it flow through you." But it all felt wrong now. 
It's all so terribly wrong.
"Help!"
He screamed towards the light. Voice cracking, turning into a life or death panic. "Help, help me please! Don't let me stay here!" His voice was shaking and cracking as he ran towards the light as fast as his feet would carry him. He tripped and scrambled back. Desperate. 
"Take me away from here!" 
"Luke!?" It was that woman. Leia. 
"Luke, take my hand." She was there just in front of him. Kind eyes. A face he had always known as if it were his own. He reached out, straining, but something twisted around his ankle, dragging him back. 
"Leia!" The pads of their fingers scrapped against each other but not enough to gain purchase. He was pulled further away.
"Help me! Save me! It's all wrong, don't forget me please!"
No no no. 
He jolted up, eyes bloodshot, hair stuck to sweat on his forehead, chest hammering. 
"Leia!!" He screamed into the blinding light. 
"Don't let me forget again!! Not again! Please!!"
Bright light shone directly into his eyes and behind it eclipsed a black soulless droid. A droid holding a spinning surgical blade inches from his forehead. He reached out in a panic to swat it away, but his hands were restrained. Feet restrainedaround his ankle to an operation table. Luke kicked and thrashed, hyperventilating.
"Leia! Leia! Help me!" He force-slammed the droid to bits against the wall with a buck of his head. Another entered the room, and he lifted his hand but was stopped by the restraint. Stupid move. That split-second delay was all that was needed for someone. A human. To press a mask to his face, gas flooded his nostrils and his eyes drooped before he could even resist.
It was forgotten.
Natus woke in his bed, head pounding, eyes felt like they were sunk into his skull. A smeared drop of blood on his temple. An empty space noticeable next to him on the bed. The Mandalorian won't be back with the bounty for at least another week. He felt the loneliness like a hole in his heart. Natus ran to the fresher to vomit up nothing. 
------
The Crest landed softly on a bed of wildflowers. The Naboo sunrise lightened the sky with streaks of pinks and oranges, and clouds lit from the bottom with a warm, fiery glow. The colors lightly reflected off of Din's armor, and even with the visor, he knew it was quite a vision. He missed the feeling—when the sun first kisses the skin—seeping deep into his pores. The leather strapped tight to his body was all the more suffocating. 
The fob beeped in his hand, and Din began the trek to the top of the sloped hill. The petals around him turned to open to the morning, dew catching on their leaves, popping with color with every inch the sun rose.
Despite the beautiful scene encompassing him, unease remained present within him, as he knew, or maybe it was that he didn't know what awaited him when he got to the top.
Din saw her white robes first. But it was undeniable in a moment she was indeed the woman from the broken, dusty holo.
At last.
Hope.
Like Luke, time had not been kind to her, but despite it all she stood tall, strong, courageous, wind adrift in the few strands of hair allowed to be free from her intricate braids. 
"Hunter, why do you hesitate?"
Din had vowed to not repeat the mistake he had made with Solo. But now that he finally had her, he didn't know what he could say. She filled the silence for him.
"This is where my mother grew up and fell in love. I know so little about my mother. An old friend told me to look here. I thought I should visit at least once, young love, the beginnings of a family. I can feel it. Can't you?"
He could.
"Given that my brother is the reason why you are here, this dream in the flowers didn't end so well."
Brother. 
Din jolted a pause, waiting for his thoughts to catch up to his racing blood. It made perfect sense; he could see it within them both now. They were part of each other.
She just stared intently at him. The only other person who could see straight past the visor and into his eyes. How was that even possible?
"You care about him," she whispered, the sound disappearing into the wind like a secret for them both.
Din shifted nervously, the flowers brushing against his leg. 
He decided there was no better time than now to jump off the metaphorical ledge, the one he had been inching closer and closer to, subtly with questions to Natus, but now it was time for action. He had no true loyalty to the Empire.
"Leia, I need your help."
The flowers lightly fluttered around them. The horizon was much brighter now. A warm light.
"And it seems I am in need of yours as well. What remains of my family I will fight fiercely for. Luke was the last person in the galaxy I ever thought would turn…" She bit off her words and glanced down. Silence broken only by the light breeze filled them both. When she started again, her tone changed.
"You recently captured Han Solo."
Din held his breath, this could be his only shot. They needed to trust each other, and how could she ever trust him now? He was a villain to her. 
"Is Han still alive?" But the words were not aquisitory; she was just stating a fact, that she knew. She didn't hold malice against him. Even though she should.
"I don't know," he swallowed hard, regret filling him up and flooding him, suffocating him. "I'm so sorry."
She nodded quickly, "Thank you."
"Don't—"
"No," she said, "I mean it," Leia worked to compose herself. She morphed subtly, straightening her posture, holding her head higher. 
"Now, enough chit-chat. You won't need those," she gestured to the binders dangling at his hip, "Comon', hurry up." And she strode straight past the fumbling Din to the Crest. "We have a galaxy to save."
Deep, somewhere in the heart of the galaxy, the Crest's ramp lowered, the ship—his home—consumed within the belly of the Descant. Two figures, instantly recognizable, stood on the other side, like demons, greeting their guests to hell. 
The first, Natus, as expected. Dressed as stiffly and blindingly white as the lights reflecting off of the troopers' armor. 
The second rivaled the vacuum of space itself. 
It took everything within Din to keep his pose, to not outwardly twitch a muscle. But Leia, in all of her courage, marched straight past him once more without a glance behind her, leading the way to whatever nightmare was before her. 
Her boots clicked against the ramp, changing in sound when she made it onto the polished, barren floor. She marched straight through the middle of Natus and the tall, evil figure next to him. 
"Out of my way," she hissed at the first imp who dared to stand in her path. The trooper before her looked as though he genuinely considered following the order of their new prisoner. 
"Not so fast, Princess." The sound, as deep as the thrumming and groaning of tectonic plates, shook the very ship in its orbit to the bottom of the universe.
"Lord Vader," she sounded exasperated, "as much as this routine, as with our conversations, amuse me, I would rather just get to the heart of the matter now. And you wouldn't risk doing that in such a public location."
"We are happy to accommodate," Vader said, tilting his visor to Natus. His sparkling golden eyes transfixed to Leia,without taking his gaze from her face, he clipped binders around her wrists. 
Din stood helplessly at the edge of the Crest's ramp, watching as the troopers parted like a sea. Leia, flanked by Natus and Vader, marched onward, her head held high with unwavering will. The three moved through the sterile, jagged halls, disappearing from sight. A bravery akin to the old heroes his mother spoke of in bedtime stories long ago. Tales that had filled his dreams with fearlessness and a call to the stars. That spirit hadn't died in her. And he wondered if it hadn't died in him either.
"Boys," she huffed, "don't you think this is overkill?" Leia knew they could have sent any trooper to sentence her to a cell, sure if it was just two she could have escaped, she could even handle around five before hesitating at a small battalion, but nevertheless they proved they had the resources. This special escort was more than a power play. But why?
Her last real conversation with her brother before all hell broke loose was just the two of them with bugs chirping and fireflies swirling around them on Endor, Luke told her Vader was their father.
Although a fact, it could never be true. Bail would always be her real father. But as she looked at the two robed figures, one in all black and the other white, she knew, however twisted, this special treatment whether conscious or not, was a familial one and possibly the first time they were all in the same place in this way.  
She thought back to the whispering flower field on Naboo, how could this, more machine than man—a creature next to her, be the one who fell in love with her mother all those years ago. 
But for now, she had to focus on the matter at hand. Leia eyed daggers into Vader as they stopped outside of a cell. The entry slid open to a small and simple room, just like all the others she had been temporarily held captive in over the years. 
She stepped in without looking back, and the door closed behind her with a snap and hiss. 
Natus looked up to his father as they shared a moment of quiet behind the other side of the cell door. 
"My son, you know what to do. Search your feelings."
And Vader kept walking down the hall, leaving Natus alone with this beautiful, familiar and mysterious woman on the other side of the door. 
"Search your feelings," he whispered to himself. It sounded so simple but there was a war behind his eyes, so much shrieking and crashing, burning and confusion. Hallways that twisted around each other, leading to nowhere, and nowhere had answers. 
"Search your feelings. I know what to do." He said louder this time, but there was no confidence in his cadence. 
Everything was so loud. He balled his fists, gloves creaking. He could do exactly what happened with Solo, after Father had helped him, he wouldn't make more mistakes, he would feel enlightened by doing what is right for the Empire. He could do that again with her.
"I know what to do." He rocked on his heels, back and forth ever so slightly, gaining momentum, pushing forward to a step. Natus pressed a button on the panel, and the cell door slid open. 
She turned to face him, their eyes met. Her brown eyes were so full of care seeing into his soul and he felt all the gold drain from his own eyes. All the malice and revenge left him like a kick to the gut. He could double over and gasp raggedly for air but he just stood motionless, unable to move a muscle. 
"Is Vader gone?" She also seemed stunned and breathless.
"Why would I ever tell you that?" His lips barely moved to form the words. His voice foreign and distant. Embarrassingly quiet. 
Yes.
"Luke."
Natus shook his head vigorously, bangs whipping back and forth. He was physically unable to bring words past his throat. He stepped back, the will to escape this shrinking box clawing at him, but the will to stay, be with this woman just a second longer, rung through every fiber of his being. 
"You called out to me," she said in a rush to get all the words out before he disappeared, either from the room or from his mind. "Don't you remember? It was through the force. A dream. You asked for my help?"
A pause, he yanked his eyes away from the door back to her.
"I'm here Luke. Just like you said. I'm here."
"You—" his voice was so dry and it cracked heavily, barely making a sound. She stepped closer, they were nearly touching. In the calm, he searched his feelings. "You have kind eyes."
She put a hand on his lifelessly pale cheek. The world stopped spinning. Her hand was so soft. A tear fell against his will. He pressed a white-gloved hand to his face, and it came back damp from the single tear. Silently, he looked back to her.
Shocked from the display of emotion, his blue eyes wide, he ran from the room. 
As soon as Natus was a fair distance away from her, his emotions screamed around him, turning to chaos, slamming into his ears. Even if he ran back to his room with the door closed behind him, the fresher shower on, beating into his back, scalding hot or frozen cold, meditating for hours and hours, bringing himself to the brink of death, Natus knew nothing would be able to drown out the noise this time.
I'm here. Search your feelings. Through passion I gain strength. Just like you said. Through strength I gain power. You know what to do. Through power I gain victory. A dream. Through victory my chains are broken.
Just like you said.
I'm here. 
Though the medical droids have pieced him back together again and again, there is only one other being who he feels comfortable being vulnerable to. Only one place he could go, even if it was against his better judgment. Troopers marched, and ships took off around him, sweeping his cape as he made his way through the hanger, focusing on a signature that had not yet left his consciousness. The screaming noise of the ships were dull in comparison to the chaos in his mind.
"Mandalorian." Natus spoke formally, knowing his voice carried. 
Sure enough, his helmeted head appeared from where he was working on a panel of the ship—an unnecessary fix to fly—his hunter was stalling. And Natus couldn't be more relieved. He could focus on this. The voices in his head quieted to a background hum.  
The Mandalorian jumped to the floor from atop the ship with a grace that revealed decades of practice. 
"I have an urgent matter in which I need to inspect your ship." Natus coughed slightly; on top of all of the other emotions, he felt like a fool. 
"If it's urgent." The hunter towered over him, helm tilted down, grazing over Natus before turning. "Then follow me."
Natus realized despite being in the ship's proximity countless times, he had never actually stepped inside, and for a moment, he worried he had crossed a boundary. But the moment couldn't linger because the second they were bothshielded from outside eyes and security cams, the Mandalorian crossed several feet in a flash to be closer to him, scanning him for injury. 
"Are you alright? What happened."
Natus released a shaky breath, relaxing to the proximity. He was here. He was safe.
"I'm fine."
The helmet titled and stared.
"It was that woman, she just had one look at me and told me things I don't believe, and I fell apart. I'm a weak fool. Who lets their prisoners interrogate them! Father would be so disappointed."
"Why?" Din gently pushed. Not sure of what he was hoping to uncover. 
"He told me to search my feelings. But I don't have feelings, only voices crying out in my head. I can never extrapolate anything that makes sense. It's clouded."
In a single movement, Din scooped the Sith into his arms, resting his head atop the other man, applying a pressure and comfort that he knew was so rare. 
"Now that can't be all true," his deep voice rumbled; every one of Natus' senses filled with the man before him. Smoke and woodchips. A surprising softness despite the armor. He focused on this, letting the waves wash over him, taking him far away from the Descant, far away from this damned galaxy. He wanted to be closer to this strange source of dependability, companionship, and comfort. To feel him more. And he knew the other man wanted that as well. What an odd pair they are, indeed. "You can feel this and the floor beneath our feet," Natus released a shaky exhale in his arms, "you can feel me."
Din leaned backward, resting against a wall, bringing Natus with him, letting the weight of the man fall even more on him. Natus nestled into him, slotting their arms and legs together and burying his face in Din's neck just so that he could feel the warmth of his breath through the cowl. Din's hand followed random paths and circles along the blond's back, feeling him relax even more. Natus responded in turn, moving his hands all across Dins' body, his back, his shoulders, arms. Through all of this, Din's pelvis was in a wonderfully close position to the other man's in between his legs where they half stood half lay, learning each other once again but with so many layers of clothing and armor in the way. 
Din didn't dare move or initiate despite the uncontrolled feeling his pants were beginning to feel too tight. Natus was in a very vulnerable state, and Din wanted to help him, which meant letting the blond lead in whatever action he was comfortable with. 
Sure enough, as if Natus read his mind, he guided Din's hand to the swell of his ass. Din gripped the skin and clothes with a wide grasp and earned a whimper in his ear. Understanding the message, Din lifted the man up, lightly dragging him along the bulge in his pants, feeling the other man was just as hard as he was. Din started a slow rhythm. The friction dueto the clothes catching between them in all of the right places.
"Mh, this okay?" Din asked, dazed already by just a few lifts.
"s'Yes please."
Din could already tell this was going to be ragged and desperate...and leave a mess. Despite knowing it would also be mind-blowing and cataclysmic, that's not what he wanted with this man right now. 
With a particularly drawn out thrust he asked, "Do you want me to take you to my room?"
The other man, now clinging to him for purchase, nose having wriggled it's was through Din's cowl, hot breath on Din's neck, their only skin touching, "Please." 
"So polite."
In a flash Din turned them around, wrapping his arms around the other man's waist, and walked them only a few feet to the side, where he strung open the cloth revealing the small dim bunk with hardly enough room for them both to fit.
"Oh," the blond let out a small light chuckle, a warm smile crossing his features—possibly the rarest sight in the galaxy. He leaned his head back on Din's breastplate, admiring the view before him. "My room is slightly bigger. But I like yours more." 
The room was small, yes, but it was warm, and quiet. It didn't show the vastness of space or have magically always pressed flat sheets that were blinding white and vast empty spaces that faintly smelled like disinfectant. No, it was rough and it was home. 
"I'm glad," Din rasped, leading the other man in and closing the curtain behind them. The room became dark, but Din could just about make out the features on the man's face before him. Soft relaxed smile, pupils blown. 
He felt hands on his belt and heard a click, his holster and all fell to the floor. Followed by Din's pauldrons, and chestplate. Din started working on unclipping the Sith's cape, unpinning the black flap over his heart, revealing the plain white jumper. Until, of course, he took that off too. After a sufficient amount of clothing and armor had been removed, Din laid the blond on his bed, then crawled his way on top of the other man. 
Their hands drawing over each other, the blond sucking marks into Din's skin as Din rolled his cock into the man's upper thigh, hand below messaging an opening, earning small hums and gasps from the lips occasionally pausing their endeavors. 
When it was time, Din sat up, bringing the blond with him, and turned him around so that the Sith's back was to his chest, Din's cock twitched next to his ass earning a small grind backwards. An arm went below the bed, patting around a few times before grasping the small bottle and bringing it up to them, Din flipped the lid open. Then, he reached in front of him to grab Natus' neglected member, and began stroking him, spreading the wetness so that his hand ran smoothly along him. Din's forearm and bicep, as his arm worked, locked the man in place as he wriggled on his lap. Din aligned his member to the other man's opening and ever so slightly putting his tip into him. 
With his free hand, Din reached upwards, heart pounding with nerves, but once again, he thought to Leia and her courage and unclipped the latch on his visor, releasing a hiss.
Natus gasped, his stomach filling with butterflies and fear—" But!" Din tightened his grip on his cock while his hand worked. The helm dropped on the bed with a dull thud. 
"Keep looking forwards Mesh'la. I trust you." And he slid the rest of the way into the tight warmth and wetness.
They both released a gasp. And oh, how Din should have done this ages ago. This was… hardly bending the rules of the creed. A mere oversight really. He breathed in fully the other man's scent, dragging his tongue hot across the man's neck as he set a slow, brutal pace. 
I trust you. 
Everything swirled, senses maxed out. All six inches of him buried deep, his hand working his cock, but stars, his voice—his real voice—without the visor. So pure and soft and he stored it in a secret place in his mind and heart that could never be forgotten. And oh, he has scruff. Natus didn't try to think about what his lover looked like below the helm—an invasion of privacy—he knew he would never be given the opportunity. Besides, after their first encounter, his curiosity surrendered to a fierce respect. But the light scratching along his shoulder and then neck indicating a bit of facial hair suited the man he knew well. Above all, what dizzied him the most—trust. This was the Mandalorians' most sacred religious tradition, yet his helm lay hollow on the bed. For him. He trusted him. Those lips glided along him, leaving marks he would cherish for rotations to come. Soft gasps and moans that were otherwise lost to the vocabulator. Natus kept it all, storing it in a secret place in his mind that could never be touched. The galaxy long forgotten in the best of ways---
"Luke."
An unfiltered voice—a low pleased grown. It was barely above a whisper. A secret. A confession of a sin. Natus' whole body tensed. Was that word a mistake? He couldn't be thinking of another lover...was it intentional? Why did it make him feel such a way? Why did it feel like a child learning to use a naughty word for the first time without knowing what it meant, just that it was wrong.
But Din purposefully ignored the other mans reeling mind and pressed open-mouthed kisses and licks to his neck, grasping his cock slightly harder.
"Say—," Natus' jaw painfully clamped shut, a desperate attempt to stop himself. Hellfire and holy water—the temptation too great.
"Say it again," He got out through gritted teeth. 
He felt the small bite on his neck morph into a smile.
"Luke." A faint voice, hot breath, the subtle scratch followed by teeth, then a kiss. A particularly deep thrust.
A darkest secret. Fit for a shadowed, tucked away room such as this. No one could ever know... particularly Father and Master. And, as far as Natus was concerned, if no one ever found out, maybe, just maybe, they could both lose their religions—at least for as long as they could hold each other. 
His heart kicking against his chest, all wrong in all the right ways.
"Again."
A hard thrust, nearing pain.
"Luke."
Natus cried out, barely forming the words, choppy and broken from the rhythm. "A-gain."
Instead of immediately obliging, the Mandalorian scooped the sith up once more, releasing his grip around his member, leaving him with an obscene noise—a feeling of emptiness and cold—and pinning him flat on his stomach. The blond lay sprawled. Tight lean muscles, small waist, taking up what little space there was on the mattress, slick and waiting for him. 
"Please." Natus whimpered softly, blowing hair that was sticking to his forehead. How could Din refuse?
The Mandalorian crawled on top of him, grabbed a fistful of the blond's hair not to pull hard but to guide away from accidentally getting a glimpse of his face, and nuzzled back to that space on Natus' marked neck. 
It was during that moment when six inches were sliding back into him without a single hitch or helpful guide when Natus, dazed and with rolled back eyes, registered the discarded helm laying immediately next to him on the mattress. It took everything in him not to cum then and there.
"Luke." The voice rasped, grabbing his hair even more firmly. With the new angle, despite Natus not being able to do more than wiggle and prop his ass higher for easier access, his hunter certainly had considerably more leverage. And he knew how to use it.
He pounded again and again, "Luke–Luke–Luke…"
Natus clung to the sheets below him, eyes squeezed shut.
"Ah! A-gain!"
His hunter slid all the way out only to slam back in, jolting him forward on the mattress. 
"L-uke!"
Natus came with a cry, and the Mandalorian wasn't far behind, pumping out his release before collapsing all his weight onto the man below him. In contrast to his last touches, he gently found Natus' ear, nibbling the lobe and whispering one last time before the word could be demonized again.
"My Mesh'la Luke."
They lay together for what could be an eternity, neither of them speaking, because speaking required asking questions and finding answers, and it was better if they pretended Din didn't just do the most forbidden thing in the galaxy. For as long as they stayed in the safety of the dim light, Din could keep his helmet off and could keep licking, and kissing, biting, and using his mouth to feel and live and pleasure for the first time in his life.
He treasured every texture and wanted more and more. He nipped and kissed and licked downwards, following a trail, heheard the blond moan above him. He had never done this before but stars, has he always wanted to try. To return the favor. To enjoy and pleasure his partner in a new way. He slid to the edge of the bed, pinning the blond from looking up with a strong, muscular arm.
He continued downwards, licking the last of the release, enjoying the taste and the smell of these new sensations. Din was pleasantly surprised how easy it was to coax the man back to full hardness. He slipped his swollen lips over the head of the cock, slowly bobbing, swirling, and tugging with his free hand. 
The Sith, out of instinct, reached out, placing a gentle hand in Din's hair. Like a burn, the Sith recoiled, feeling Din's curls, regretting learning more about what lay behind the helm. But Din reached up, finding the man's hand, placing it back in his hair, letting him guide, enjoying the tug and pull of his hair like a drop of water in a desert.
When the man came in his mouth, he licked up everything and made his way back up, to continue to worship the other man's body with his mouth. His chest, arms, neck, face, near his lips, but a spike of nerves hit him, and he opted to kiss his nose, going higher…
Until finally, Din dragged his tongue along the small slice of a scar over Natus' temple.
The sheets moved as Natus abruptly sat up, careful not to see the other man's head.
"I have to leave. There is something I need to take care of."
And as quickly as they were able to reassemble themselves, he was past the curtain, running down the ramp into the shiphold and gone.
—-
By the time Natus reached Pershing's office, he was already fuming, the force vibrating through every tendon and nerve, setting his skin alight. 
The door flung open and he burst inside. 
"Alright Pershing," he said as a entered, "I'm suddenly very curious about your research. Please, tell me more."
Testing vials and data pads lined the walls and the room rank of disinfectant. The man at the center of it all jumped, turning straight as a board mid-air, then scrambled to adjust his glasses, pushing them upwards on the bridge of his nose.  
"Lord Natus! It's an honor. Really, it is! But—I um, but I." Natus gave him a look that inspired motivation. "As you know, we have been collecting force users for sampling and trials. I specifically oversee the physical manipulation, as you know with the binders test." A long pause, some piece of equipment let out a harmless beep, "I don't want to bore you with the nuances…"
"Are there any other forms of…persuasion? Like mental instead of physical?" 
"Well, Moff Gideon is rather adamant that I don't share about…"
Natus stressed every syllable, fire sparking in his eyes. "I implore you to reconsider."
"Sir, you don't have the clearance to—"
"TELL ME!" The lights in the room flickered and beakers shook with their liquids on the shelf.
"We. We. Well. There is a procedure," Natus' eyes widened in disbelief as Pershing ran a finger along his temple in the exact spot as his scar. When he said "procedure," the other man's eyes wildly searched his own, praying he understood. 
His goggled eyes darted around with the caution of a man whose every word was monitored. "It has shown to be successful. With results better than I had anticipated, so there is no concern there… for force users no matter where they fall on the Metaclorian Scale or spectrum from light to dark." 
Their eyes met again, "Incorporating the latest neuro-synergistic feedback inhibition," he went on fluent and sophisticated, his words bleeding into the soft hum of the machinery. But everything that needed to be said had already been spoken, now the scientist drowned on, trying to dilute his treason in jargon.
Thank you Pershing, you are a good man. 
ADVANCED SCIENCE DIVISION
REPORT #912577-B3
}}
<CHIEF SCIENTIST = {REDACTED}
ISSUE: "UPDATE"
SPECIMEN ID: 000002
NAME: "NATUS">
ULTERIOR: "LK SKYWLKR">
}}
<LOCATION: IMPERIAL RESEARCH CENTER 23-B>
<NATUS has once again reached STAGE THREE under directive: diverging from suggestive protocol: A392D. Resembling self-awareness.> 
<RESPONDENT CONNECTING>
<MESSAGE LOADING>
<This is the fifth time STAGE THREE has been reached. Do you believe it is of any concern?>
<I believe extra precautions are warranted. It is my recommendation that the specimen should not continue to interact with Princess Leia Organa. That has been the primary cause of reaching STAGE 4 previously.>
<MESSAGE LOADING>
<Lord Vader has permitted their interactions on the account of strengthening loyalty to the Empire.>
<With respect, it is my and my team's belief that continued proximity is unwise. Even with this goal in mind.>
<MESSAGE LOADING>
<Without loyalty, your research is meaningless. Treat the specimen's fate as your own. Progress will resume as normal.>
<RESPONDENT DISCONNECTED>
-----
Chapter 9 will be out in 2 weeks.
Reblogs help my story grow 🌱 <3
19 notes · View notes
dankmyfarrik · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Sith Luke Skywalker (02)
22 notes · View notes
dankmyfarrik · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Star Wars; The Clone Wars
Some of the funniest moments!!!
57 notes · View notes
dankmyfarrik · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Eternal Sunshine | Chapter 8: Happy Is The Blameless
7/21/24 at 5:30pm EST
Summary: An alternate universe where the only thing that happens differently is… well, the Emperor wins. And Luke wakes up with a mysterious scar on his temple.
Read it here: Tumblr | AO3
46 notes · View notes
dankmyfarrik · 4 months ago
Text
okay guys but in all seriousness the trump attempted assassination is going to rally the right like crazy. voter turnout will be going up. it is more crucial than ever that you SHOW UP AND VOTE IN THIS YEARS PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION.
49K notes · View notes