#eldritch skywalkers

[stealingpotatoes]

Mortis cousins AU: What does Ezra think? Also what does Sabine think, considering the art of them?

i feel like that scenario's actually even MORE fun in canon than in that au

(commission info // tip jar!)

[somestorythoughts]

There was a post I read several yrs ago before I had a tumblr about the Force as an eldritch entity, and Anakin being a child of the Force is too. He looks mostly like a little boy but well, there are somethings you just can’t hide. Even from people who aren’t Force sensitive because sometimes there are strong emotions and not everyone knows what’s happening, but everyone knows its something. Luke and Leia are little bit eldritch too, if there’s such a thing as “a little bit eldritch” and Han’s reaction to that is basically “huh okay.”

It was wonderful and I want to reread it and like it now that I have Tumblr, because it was The Post that inspired me to do a lot more eldritch/uncanny valley things with several of my characters, and I can’t fucking find it.

If this rings any bells for anyone could you please let me know?

[cinderfeather]

Favourite Eldritch Vader | Anakin lines I've written:

"Take off your mask," Luke ordered. "I will look into the eyes of my father's killer as he dies." “I wear no mask," said Vader. 

— The Sith in Yellow

“Sometimes I have dreams….” Anakin swallowed. “Dreams I swallow stars.”

— The Right Hand of Justice

“Ha,” said Luke. “Then all I have to do to defeat you is not be afraid of you.” Vader tilted his helmet directly at him. A bolt of fear tore right through him. Luke felt cold, like he was being eaten alive by the cave-eel, drowned by the dianoga, and flying down the Death Star trench all at once. He dug his fingers into Vader’s steel arms, gasping. “Good luck with that,” Vader replied.

— Skeptics of the Force

“Is that your spare armour?” quipped Han. “Looks pretty uncomfortable to me.” “That armour isn’t for me,” replied Vader. “It is for Luke.” “What?” gasped Leia. “It’ll kill him.” “No,” said Vader. “Not as long as he remains in his true form.”

— Unpublished draft

[spell-cleaver]

Whumptober

Written for Whumptober:

No. 22 - THEY MADE ME DO IT cursed | demon | obsession

Also read it on AO3 or on FFN!

“Don’t touch me,” Luke snarled as Vader took his chin gently and tilted it up, examining the bruise on his face. He tried to yank his chin away, but his father’s grip was firm.

“Use that anger,” Vader told him. The weight of his regard in the Force was heavy, like the twin suns were beating all their heat down on one person, but his triumph and happiness were heavier. Luke had felt him use the Force at Bespin, sensed those shadows snatch at his legs and fling items at him until he was thrown out the window, but they definitely clung tighter, now. There were more of them, and they curled around his legs, shoulders, until it felt like wading through water. “It will serve you well, my son.”

Serve, serve, serve, he thought he heard, and wanted to be sick at the cold breeze that snaked around his neck.

Luke bared his teeth as his snarl grew more pronounced. That satisfaction only grew stronger.

Vader turned to the Imperial who’d delivered him here, onto this awful planet, and nodded. “Good work, Admiral Piett. Return to the Executor and report to the Emperor that my sojourn is not yet finished.”

“Yes, milord.” Piett straightened up, nodded, and���without another glance at Luke—returned to the shuttle. It lifted off smoothly a few minutes later, hot air ruffling Luke’s hair.

Luke watched it go jealously. He’d watched out the window as they descended, staring at the black islands of jagged rock and the seas of roiling lava, and unless this spired castle they were standing outside held unexpected treasures, he didn’t think there was another ship on the planet.

And he desperately needed there to be. He needed to get away. This was an old, old place, the malice here set into the planet’s very bones. Of course his father had set up base here. It was perfect for someone as dark and horrifying as him.

“Come,” Vader ordered. Come, come, come. “I will show you to your quarters.”

Luke tried to dig his heels in, but that was impossible. The dark side tugged him forwards—Vader didn’t even have to lift his finger to get it to obey his will—and he wasn’t strong enough to resist. He kept a stilted gait next to his father, staggering along like a marionette on shadowy strings.

“Why am I here,” Luke demanded.

Vader didn’t pause. “You are my son. You belong here with me.”

You belong here.

“I belong with my friends.”

His father stopped in the middle of the landing pad, his cape whirling more than it probably should, to jab a finger at him. “Your friends and Jedi Masters stole you from me. They hide you from your destiny. We are father and son. You belong here.”

“Destiny?” Luke scoffed. He thought he heard it repeated back, but shook off the voices like floaters. His brain was still wrapping itself around his father’s irrational ideas, trying to repeat it until it found logic in the illogical.

“I am the most powerful Force-user to ever have lived. You are just as strong, my son. We will overthrow Sidious, then rule the galaxy together, as is our birthright.”

“Sidious?” Luke asked. “You mean the Emperor?”

“A Sith Lord should not be underestimated.”

Luke snorted. “I learned that from you.”

“You are a fast learner,” Vader agreed, and his voice was almost warm. Luke hated how much he liked it. Guilt pooled in his stomach, but when Vader kept talking he lifted his chin to look at him, aching to hear more. “You cannot have trained for more than a handful of months, and still you fought so valiantly on Bespin. I am proud of you.”

Proud! Proud, proud, proud!

Luke was prepared for hostilities. Threats. Perhaps more lost hands.

He hadn’t expected his father to be a father.

Vader seemed taken aback by Luke’s shock. “My son,” he said, “Luke. You are everything to me. Soon you will see how I want only the best for you.”

It was true: Luke could sense it. This castle seemed to amplify each of his father’s emotions, and now it amplified affection, protectiveness, even love. A warmth wrapped around him, the shadows nestling him in a tight embrace

He didn’t know how to respond to that. So he didn’t. When they started walking again, his movements were no longer jerky; he was walking on his own, not getting pulled.

“What is this place?” he asked as they crested some stairs and entered a vast, black corridor. The ceiling was extremely high. “It feels…” He paused. “Like you.”

“It is my home,” Vader confirmed. “Mustafar is a nexus of the dark side—it feeds my power, as it will feed yours. And the darkness will hide your presence for now; Palpatine will not sense you are here.”

Luke wondered if that was why Yoda had chosen to hide on Dagobah, next to that awful cave, but said nothing. He wasn’t going to betray anything.

But… Mustafar…

“This is where Jedi go to die,” he said, “isn’t it?”

Vader inclined his head. “This was the base for the Inquisitorius program, when it was still running.”

Luke stopped. “Inquisitors?”

“Yes.” Vader watched him, wondering why he’d stopped. “They—”

“Is that what you’re going to do to me?” Luke snapped out. “I heard the horror stories about them”—General Syndulla, the moment she heard there was a Jedi in the Rebellion again, had told him everything she knew—“and what happened to make them. Are you going to torture me too?”

“No.”

“I— what?”

“No. You are my son. I… hope you will listen and realise to join me of your own accord,” he added, “but you are safe here. Palpatine cannot sense you. We do not have the time limit we had on Bespin.”

“…oh.” Luke let himself reach out to sense him, and his father and the shadows caught his questing metaphysical hand. He felt affection, still—child, my child, safe—and all the pride Vader had mentioned earlier. “Oh.”

He fumbled out, clumsily, and tried to send… something back. It was muddled, it was still afraid, but he felt his father’s joy, and it warmed him too.

Obi-Wan and Yoda had been wrong about him, he realised. They… they were so sure there wasn’t good in him. But if he loved Luke—and wasn’t that all Luke had ever wanted? A father to love him?—then he could not be lost.

They kept walking, through corridors unadorned with decorations, just sheer obsidian walls shooting for the high ceilings. Luke wrinkled his nose at them.

“You do not like my décor?” Vader asked, amused.

“It’s less than inspiring,” Luke said drily.

Vader chuckled—was that a laugh? He thought that was a laugh—and conceded the point. “Perhaps I can change that for you.”

“Import some decorations from off-world? Won’t that look suspicious?” Luke was wondering, but then he glanced up and the wall was reforming in front of his eyes. Great carvings—of battles, twisted beasts, but also starships, flowers, mountains, beauty—started to emerge.

“I didn’t know the Force could do that.”

“Largely Jedi cannot,” Vader agreed. Luke shot him a look for slandering Jedi, but he continued, “and nor can the Sith. But we are children of the Force. And Mustafar is my domain.”

Children of the Force. Ours. Ours.

That was why the dark side wasn’t just strong here, Luke thought. It was Vader. He had spent so long here, talking to the abyss, that it had begun to speak back.

Luke couldn’t pretend that what it spoke of wasn’t… nice.

And he was curious.

Without asking if he could try—he knew he didn’t need permission—he lifted his hand and reached for the Force himself, feeling it slink through him, cool and clearer than he’d ever felt it. The stones in front of him were putty in his hands, the universe was putty in his hands, and for a moment he stared at it all in shock. There was so much. There was so much he could do, that they hadn’t taught him (yes, yes, they did not teach you this…)

He opened his eyes. The imprints of two suns, stylised rays fanning out from them, stared back at him accusingly.

“What do you mean, we’re children of the Force? Aren’t all living beings children of the Force?”

Vader squeezed his shoulder. “That was an excellent first try,” he said. “And yes. But we are something greater.”

The shadows purred around him. Something about all this felt wrong, his training and the last thread between him and Ben trembling with fury and fear, but the clarity and sense of impossibility was like nothing he’d ever felt before. He could do anything. He could finally help the Rebellion, instead of abandoning them for months to train, only for that training to be next to useless against a foe who wasn’t even trying to kill him.

This could help him.

This could be the way forwards.

Ben had always told him to trust his feelings. The Force did not lie.

He wouldn’t turn to the dark side, he wouldn’t join Vader, but… he could try to stay open-minded about it.

“Tell me,” he said.

*

They talked for much of the walk to Luke’s quarters, conflict and curiosity reigning at different points of the conversation. Luke could feel his father’s frustration every time Luke said no, he wasn’t doing that; no, he didn’t want to rule; no, the dark side was evil. Even with the shadows’ affection and warmth, their anger made him feel chilled and ill. But he was patient about it. There… there was good in him.

And Luke’s rooms spoke of a great deal of love, even if the shadows, which had held him in their embrace this whole time, hadn’t been enough. They were carefully furnished, light where the rest of the castle was dark, the bed extremely comfortable and the decorations in all the colours he’d liked on Tatooine. He was extremely touched—especially when he noticed the model of a T-16 Skyhopper on the mantelpiece, intricately carved and gleaming.

When he touched it, it felt… it felt like his father.

He seemed to have carved it himself.

They ate together, then Luke retired to his room for the night. For someone who had been captured, who knew he needed to find a way to let his friends know he was alright, he was… calm. Safe. Drunk on the feeling of being important to someone, of feeling loved so much that the castle itself reverberated it back at him.

Love.

Love you.

Ours.

My son—ours. Ours. Not to be hurt. Not to lose.

Here. Stay here. Belong here.

Belonging still felt like a far-off concept, but the more he reached for the Force here, brushing his hands through its cold, clear, almost crystalline currents, the more he could see what his father was talking about. It made him giddy, almost. They had so much power—they could do anything. They could depose of the Emperor. They could dismantle the Empire. They could bring order to the galaxy.

Could! Could! Powerful. Our son, so powerful…

But not yet. He had to speak to his Jedi Masters, and try to convince them of what he’d learned; Yoda had been right about Bespin, after all, and he was still wiser than Luke. He would do that. He just… wanted to bask a little longer in the sun with his father, for now.

That night he slept, but did not sleep.

The voices were louder at night. Our son, ours, here! Powerful, calm, with us, here! Here! Here! It was an obsession that would not let up, that did not sleep, that encompassed him so fiercely that he opened his eyes at one point to find himself hovering, a good metre above the bedclothes, the shadows wrapped so tightly around him he couldn’t move.

Whether he was awake or not was irrelevant. His eyes saw in shades of black and red, the shadows outlined in gold—and they wound about him, snakes, hissing when he made to brush them off. Ours.

Ours.

He does not understand.

Come.

The son must understand.

Come.

Understand. Stay with us. Belong here.

Come, come, come…

He came.

They didn’t lower him back to the bed, but it didn’t take so much as a flicker of thought for him to soar over it and onto the floor anyway. They squirmed excitedly and fled out the door, down the corridor; they didn’t give him a chance to put shoes on and he didn’t require it. His mind was thick with fog, but he knew with absolute certainty to follow them without delay.

Come…

Come…

Come…

One of us.

Ours.

Come learn to use us, reach us, the Master’s son and our new Master, ours…

He wandered the empty corridors, all free of dust no matter how ancient or unused they were. The shadows were thick everywhere: the plain black obsidian was shot with vivid streaks of gold that purred when he touched them, rippled through his skin and caught him in a web that sent a chill through him. They went through him, shivering between his cells, wrapping around his heart and cooing at whatever they saw there. He smiled. They were his, and he was theirs.

They were growing agitated in impatience and before he knew it, his legs were moving again, walking forwards, until there loomed a great door in front of him. It opened silently upon his approach. He was glad of their cool touch, on him and in him, then, as the lava burned the oxygen from the air and the hair from his skin.

Ours, they insisted fiercely, defending him from the planet and the galaxy. Ours. Do not touch. Do not hurt. Ours to love, ours to protect, our new Sith Emperor to bring us out of the corners where we might walk again…

They purified the air in his lungs so he could breathe—or perhaps he need not breathe at all, walking through this waking dreamscape, perhaps the Force was all one needed to survive. Perhaps, since his father had told him he was only three-quarters human, he could not die at all, so long as he had this power.

The harsh volcanic rocks cut into his feet and hurt, leaving his footprints bloody behind him, but the pain did not faze him. It bolstered him, bleeding into his veins like ichor, as gold as the shadows around him, and it gave him the strength to run.

Come.

Come see.

Come understand.

When he reached a ridge, and a black, ashy beach beneath it, he saw.

Screaming.

Hatred.

Burning.

I loved you, I loved you, I loved you.

Understand, see us, understand us. We are here, we are yours, you are ours, understand…

Jedi hatred! Jedi lies!

Jedi say we killed us, we killed Master. The Jedi killed us, left Master to die. Took her, killed her, Master’s Master said we killed her but no, Jedi let her die.

Let her die.

Let her die.

Let her die.

Took you—

—took ours—

—lied to you, unloved you, used you, controlled you…

It all spun in his head, fast enough he could only catch glimpses of image. Obi-Wan, Padmé, Sidious, Obi-Wan, Padmé, Sidious, Obi-Wan—

Her…

Empress.

Empress!

Should have been…

Her son.

Our son.

Emperor.

Do good.

Bring order.

Help us.

Free us.

Slaves to the Master’s Master.

Bring order.

Finish the conflict, finish the fighting…

No more war, only peace…

There is no peace, there is passion…

Passion and what is ours, what we protect…

What do you protect?

His father. That was what came to his mind first, of course. His father, his family, his friends…

Liars! Traitors! Terrorists!

Protected ours… Protected Luke…

Hate them…

Help them…

They are his and he is ours…

They will serve.

We will serve.

Rule.

Rule.

Rule the galaxy as…

Father and son.

Rule the galaxy as one.

Rule…

He protected his father, his family, his friends. And he was a Rebel.

No longer! Emperor now, our lord, ours, no rebellion against ours goes unpunished and he cannot be punished…

He had a duty to the galaxy. He had to save the galaxy. Which meant they had to get rid of Palpatine.

Kill him!

Destroy him!

Pretender to the Sith…

Vile man…

Wicked Master’s Master…

Restore the Sith.

Restore Masters’ ours.

He stared out at the fields of lava. Years of fear, and horror, and war rushed through him. All those deaths. All those funeral pyres—whether handmade or improvised when a crash left a ship burning with its pilot still inside. All that pain.

End pain…

Use pain…

We are the Sith…

Luke had never heard of the Sith before. Obi-Wan and Yoda had not mentioned it. But as he reached for the Force, and trusted the feelings so acute at his core that he shook with them, he knew they were his. He was theirs.

Ours!

Our prince.

Our Emperor.

Our lord.

Serve.

Rule.

Use!

Reach for the Force…

Your anger, hatred, pain, love…

We are here.

They were. They were here, they had been for eons.

Ever since his pain and betrayal at Bespin. Ever since his lost comrades at Hoth. Ever since the deaths on his failed missions. Ever since the Death Star—light! Bright! Powerful ours—and the prices it had demanded. Ever since he watched his aunt and uncle burning in the sands.

Before that. Lies from Ben. Years of loss, of being stolen from Father. Of separation from his power.

Ever since she’d died here, in agony and betrayal, the shadows wrapping around her and him still in her womb, cooing, before Jedi had ripped him away from their arms.

Ours.

We are here.

You are here.

Finally.

Years.

Years!

We have waited…

Growing stronger… in pain…

Master needs you.

You need Master.

Ours and his and yours.

We are yours.

Finally.

Make things right, Luke…

End this destructive conflict.

Luke took a deep breath of toxins, sparks and ash. It should have killed him three times over in moments. It did not scratch him.

He was invincible.

What is your command?

*

He awoke the next morning, got dressed, and went to find Vader.

He knew he looked sharp and neat in the Imperial uniform picked out for him: clad in black, like his father, with more rank bars than he could count and gold trim lining at the collar, sleeves and hems. His shadows attended him as he did up the buttons, and joined him enthusiastically as he left the room.

His feet were barren of shoes, again, and they still bled. The bottom of his bed was thick with red, and he left a trail of blood where he stepped, but the pain trickled through the Force like glimmering threads and sewed itself through him, bolstering his movements. With every knife-sharp step, he knew: he was doing the right thing.

Vader was in a large, unfurnished room, the floor gleaming black marble and the wall a great transparisteel window looking out over the lava fields. He turned when he heard Luke, and paused as he took in his regalia. Perhaps he even saw his shadows curled around him—no longer shining gold, but shimmering, still there when he sank into the Force and regarded them.

“Luke,” Vader said. “It suits you.”

Luke glanced down at the uniform and smiled. “It does.”

Vader’s gaze fell on the blood tracks, but said nothing. Luke said everything, as he came to join him at the window, looking out over the planet that was their home.

“I have considered everything you said on Bespin, in light of what has been said since then,” he said. And before Vader could know the agony of hope, he finished, “I will join you, Father. I want you to train me.”

Triumph erupted around them and Luke grinned too with the elation of it, how it fed his certainty that it was right.

“I would be honoured, my son.” Vader took his hand in his.

My son, my son, my son.

“The Jedi took me, taught me to be less than I was, lied to me…” All of that was truth, but something rang false, enough that Luke faltered, his confident tone falling into doubt. The Force… listening to the Force…

The dark side of the Force was coiling around him, and it was more than pleased with this turn of events.

“We will undo the damage these Jedi have wrought,” Vader promised, and brushed Luke’s hair out of his eyes. “You will be the greatest Sith ever known.”

“Yoda is the only one still alive. He is to be found on Dagobah.” Again, that moment of hesitation, but Vader’s fury and the castle’s answering wave drowned it out. His Master did not deserve his protection.

Master, Master, Master…

“It was Yoda who sank his claws in you?” He nodded. “I am sorry, Luke. He is the worst of all of them.”

“It’s alright.” Luke’s voice was soft, like his mother’s had been in the vision. He noticed Vader noticing it, and noticed his spike of pride. “I’m with you, now.”

“And you will never leave,” Vader swore.

Luke nodded. “We’ll end this war together?”

“This war, and all of them. We will change the galaxy.”

And this…

This, Luke thought, holding his father’s hand and enjoying his adoration and pride, with the promise that he would be able to change the galaxy for the better, for him and his friends… This was all he had ever wanted.

The lava sprayed up outside the window, shedding yellow and red light into the room, gleaming on the bloody steps Luke had taken to walk here. But that was not why his eyes twinkled gold.

[kalak]

More.. eldritch... slightly off skywalkers

Luke picking up on random thoughts by passerbys on the street too easily. Leia going up to a rando in a charity gala and going, your wife is gonna divorce you in 5 years. The twins' force signatures are so intertwined that any new jedi who meet them get confused - the eye sees two people but the force says one person.

Them being able to see the galaxy through the force - the twins keep slipping into a half-force half-irl world. Leia's like, everything is glowing. Luke's like I can literally see the strings of fate connecting all people. People leave trails of memories. They keep having to snap out of peering into 'what could have been' to look at what actually is happening.

Both of them being fucked in the medical sense because their blood type is rare and they're one quarter the force so the blood still has a chance of getting rejected.

Vader suffering doubly after mustafar because he became less human. His humanity that anchored him from floating away into the force is gone now - he has trouble distinguishing what's real and what's imagination and what's a memory. Time is meaningless and he cannot sleep because he knows that a happy dream will be the last straw

[constellation-skirmishes]

always two, there are.

[saber-starlings]

Every once in a while I'm reminded that Luke and Leia are canonically related to force, so every time one of them pulls off an insane force stunt it's the equivalent of a grandparent spoiling their grandchildren. Honestly, that valid.

[singswan-springswan]

I see your haunted Coruscant and I raise you: tired dad Anakin (eldritch) explaining to exasperated wife Padmé (unhinged chaos magnet masquerading as a complacent mother) that no, he's not worried about their children whom they've neither seen nor heard from in minutes? Months? Days, Anakin, because the Force loves them so dearly and anyway they are ancient beings (five years old) full of wanderlust and memory and anyway kids need their adventures don't they? Besides he knows where to find them should the need arise. He's never seen their hideout (core of the planet) but if he followed the dark into the ground and asked the locals who haven't seen the sun what stalks the streets when it's quiet, and if he followed the sound of laughter from a place he cannot name and shadows shift when he slips between breathless forgotten avenues and buildings soar where there is no sky and the shadows move, the shadows are not alive but stay away from death, if he followed the taste of decomposed memories he's sure he could reach out to the space where touch has no feel and he would find his children there, drifting like songbirds on a whisper of unlit sun, pouring from one lonely abandoned rusted over coruscanti skeleton to the next. And he's sure pretty sure he could bring them home in time for dinner. Would she want that? Yes Anakin, tell them we're having pizza.

[averagechickenenjoyer]

This gets even wilder when people find out that Vader was Anakin Skywalker.

The people of the galaxy remembered the war hero, the hero with no fear, the one who was the champion of the Republic, the one who never backed down, who never gave up, even after the fall of the Jedi and as the memory of their religion faded, people still remembered the champion.

And than the truth comes out. The god of death and the champion are one and the same, and the whispers only grow, some say he refused to betray the people and took on a new form, one of fear and death. That he became consumed by his own rage, and became a god of death, whose only drive was to slaughter and maim any who would betray the Empire. Others claim that the god of death was a clone of the champion. The truth only makes the fear and paranoia surrounding Vader grow, and it reminds the people of the forgotten CIS why they used to fear seeing the 501st Leigon descend upon their planets, because it meant the Champion was near and any who dared cross his path met swift end upon his bright blade of blue.

Lukes myth only gets worse. In canon he’s already known as a being to fear by the Empires remnants after Endor. But than it’s found he’s the son of the god of death, of the champion. That’s when the rumors REALLY start to get crazy. Some theorize that like his father, he became a being of death, one powerful enough to fell the god of death. Others believe Luke to be a demigod, born of an unholy combination of life and death. Despite what they believe, all remnants of the Empire shudder and cower at the very mention of his name, fearful that even mentioning him will summon him and they will meet deaths cold embrace at his green blade.

I saw this and now I can’t stop thinking about the Skywalkers as legends, myths, really, because…

Darth Vader the death god, this is perfect. He doesn’t set out to create this persona, not really. He doesn’t really plan anything that pertains himself anymore, anyway, but… he is the most lethal person in the universe. He kills and tortures and destroys, and he knows no mercy. His black cloak and mask is easily recognizable among the white armor of the Stormtroopers, and they feel safer when he’s around. He can’t be killed, they say, can’t be touched by enemy fire. When you stay close enough to him, they can’t reach you, either. He can protect you from cruel and incompetent officers, he can punish them. You can feel his power in your bones, can feel it make you stronger. As long as you follow his orders, you are safe, but nobody can help you if you displease him. He is a god, after all. He does not know mercy.

Padme Amidala is much more of a local myth, really. Both the Rebellion and the Empire try to co-opt her for their own ends, but… she just wasn’t that important to the bigger picture, you know? She was a senator during the Clone Wars, and she gave some nice speeches, but soldiers don’t really care about senators. She was beautiful and clever, and she is remembered kindly, but the only place where she is really a legend is Naboo. There, she is not a senator, but the queen who freed them, the queen who made peace with the Gungans, the queen who fought. Her picture hangs in almost every house of Naboo, dressed in traditional robes, her make up and hair perfect. She doesn’t look like a person, not really, more like an idea. They say that one day, when the time is right, she will return for them, and save Naboo again. She is theirs, after all, their queen. The only one that matters, really.

Luke Skywalker, the boy who blew up the Death Star, a soldier and a trickster and a boy. The first legends start after the battle of Yavin, after he was one of three pilots who survived, after he destroyed the machine of death. He was just a nobody, a nineteen year old farmboy, and yet he was the only one who succeeded. He can’t be human, can he? Not really. He must be some sort of demigod, young and reckless but powerful, still. Stormtroopers fear him, because this boy… their blasters bolts don’t hit him half as often as they should. Sometimes they do, that’s how they know he’s not like Vader, who is untouched by violence, but… they know they are good shots. And yet, they can’t kill him. And the rebel soldiers know that, too. Nobody tells him that, and his friends don’t really believe the legends, because they know him to be an idealist and a dork and the guy who was freezing like hell on Hoth because he’s from the desert, but… the rebels who don’t know him? He’s their myth. And then Bespin happens, and he survives a fight with the god of death himself, actually survives, and how can you not think of him as a demigod, as a spirit, maybe? And they are proud of him, because he’s theirs. Stormtroopers though, they are terrified, because they know better than to expect mercy from gods.

Leia Organa, the Last Princess of Alderaan. They don’t call her queen until years later, don’t really remember that Winter exists, either. She’s a symbol, more so than she is ever a person, because Leia herself, Leia the person, she’s on the edge of breaking, she’s full of hate and grief and despair, and that’s not inspirational, is it? So she lets them believe it. But there are legends about her, legends about her standing and seeing her planet be destroyed, of her surviving, still and beautiful as a statue, but alive, powerful. The Princess most of the rebels know wears white, long, beautiful gowns, her hair in complicated braids. She speaks loudly, with a clear, strong voice. She stands, despite everything. She stands. And she survives. Soon, there are rumors. She can’t be killed, they say. She was a prisoner aboard the death star, she saw the destruction of her home planet, and yet, she lives, yet, she fights. If she’s not dead yet, can the Empire even touch her? Can she even bleed? Or is she made of ice? Or is it fire? For Leia Organa is a myth of duality. The white princess made of ice, and the passionate fighter with fire in her veins, a blaster always at hand and the best at inspiring troops before a desperate battle. Ice and Fire, that’s what Leia Organa is made of, not flesh and blood. She’s the only one who sort of realizes the myth that’s grown around her, and she uses it, sometimes. Not too much, because she can’t control it, but sometimes.

Just… the Skywalkers as terrifying legends.

[stealingpotatoes]

eldritch Anakin stuff is best when nobody remembers to explain the fact he's half-Force to Ahsoka

(ko-fi requests are open!)

[marinamar4]

I don't know if I've mentioned this already, but... A fic where Obi-Wan raises Luke and Leia... In Mortis

Yes, that Mortis. The planet of the Force. And Luke and Leia grow up in an environment so powerful in the Force that they can do things no one else can. Literally like those other fics where the Skywalkers are eldritch

And when they finally emerge from Mortis, the Rebellion doesn't know whether to worship them or fear them.

And the Empire knows that its days are more than numbered.

Because what can they do against the young man who literally erased the death star like he had an eraser?

(whoever has read the WITCH comic where Elyon erases the Meridian prison will understand)

What can they do against the little girl who came out of a spaceship into empty space where Alderaan should be (or any other planet that they destroyed in that story) and without a spacesuit or anything started running and dancing and where she "stepped" on the world was beginning to reform?

And all that time, the only one they obey is Obi-Wan, who raised them. And every time someone asks Obi-Wan to "control" the twins because of the chaos they're causing, he just gets a look saying "Who, me?"

[ultrainstinctslasher]

Hear me out. Eldritch Luke Skywalker. I know this isn't a new thing, but there ISN'T ENOUGH of it. And I'm not talking about 'scary tentacle monster' eldrich (although I love it too and I think its super cool), I'm talking more of a 'I can tear through your mind like paper and blow up planets with minimal effort but I won't because I'm nice and have moral values' eldritch.

[shieldmaiden19]

Broke: Anakin’s father is the Force

Woke: Shmi is the father and mother and infinite creation and existence of the galaxy and beyond

qui gon: who was anakin’s father?

shmi, the living embodiment of the Living Force, formed out of sand and bones and prayers of the weary and wandering, whose heartbeat is earthquakes and whose blood is lava, who formed anakin from blue fire and the black oil of the core of planets so she wouldn’t be alone in and could fulfill her destiny of reincarnated godhood: father???

[fanfic-obsessed]

Eldritch Everyone

I have read fantastic stories where Obi Wan/ the Jedi are Eldritch creatures and other stories where the Clones are Eldritch, because of Kaminoan experiments. Let's merge the two with a twist. 

The twist is they are different types of eldritch beings who do not know the other is Eldritch. 

As always disregard any established lore that contradicts this. 

With the clones it is because of Kaminoan experimentation. It will never be quite clear what the Kamnioan’s were trying to do…or if they accomplished their goal. But the Kaminoan experiments on the Clones (with the exception of Boba Fett) genome connected with…something beyond. Something they had no idea what to account for. 

For the Eldritch Clones I am taking heavy inspiration from the incomparable Quarra’s The Force of my Love.  The Clones are a hivemind, existing paradoxically as part of the hive and individually all at once.  Their forms are nigh on indestructible and mutable, meaning they can shapeshift (they, in fact, make the choice to keep Jango Fett’s face and shape as their ‘main form’-partially due to spite, partially because the Kaminoans expect it). They are able to travel instantaneously to any clone that is part of the Hivemind(by contrast this instantaneous travel is limited to only to other members of the hivemind).  Unlike Quarra’s clones they cannot tell the difference between Sith and Jedi(for reasons that will be elaborated on later). They have eidetic memory which, combined with the hive mind, means that what one knows all of them know and none of them ever forget.  This version of the clones have no particular connection to Mandalorian culture, nor any other culture, save perhaps the Jedi (The propaganda that they are created for the Jedi still exists and frankly pales in comparison to how awesome the Jedi actually are). 

The Jedi are Eldritch through their connection to the Force, which is sentient (by certain definitions) but so utterly alien to anything on the mortal plane that there is no direct comparison. Now it needs to be made clear from the first that it is not just Force sensitivity that makes one Eldritch, the connection to the Force is just not strong enough.  There are additional rituals that the Jedi, and the Sith of Old, go through to become what could be considered Avatars of the Force (specifically the Light Side for the Jedi). These rituals were passed down from before the split between Sith and Jedi.

I say Sith of Old here, because Bane, in creating his rule of two, did away with many of those rituals (never realizing their worth) because several of them required more than 2 participants.  There are three rituals in particular that apply here. First is a ritual to allow oneself to fill completely with the Force (making themselves, for a lack of better terminology, larger than their mortal forms), which Bane kept as he believed it simply made one more powerful (and could be accomplished alone). The second ritual, also one that Bane kept, helped to hide the Banite Sith from the Jedi(it also disguised what was happening to the Banite Sith due to the first ritual, even from themselves), though that had always been a side effect of the ritual, not its intended purpose; this ritual is the reason that the Clones cannot sense Jedi and Sith seperately. The third ritual makes one a conduit of the Force (letting the Force pass through oneself) which Bane did away with. It is important here because mortal beings are not meant to be filled to the brim with the Force, without the release valve of the second ritual it causes them to rot from the inside out.   This is important because by the old definition of Sith, the Force Cult that has dedicated themselves to being the Avatars of the Dark Side of the Force, there has not been a Sith since Darth Bane (barring one exception) and why the Banite Sith tend to rot while still living, the longer they are immersed in the Dark Side.  Dooku did not rot because he had done the rituals as a Jedi, though he had not dedicated himself specifically to the Dark, so he never took on the title of True Sith. Ventress, through her training with Ky Narec, had also completed most of the Jedi rituals, meaning she was not a Sith but as closer to it than Palpatine. It was actually Maul who, in growing up submerged in the Dark like he had been, accidentally completed a version of the lost second ritual, and became a True Sith in the old meaning of the word. 

These rituals are meant to immerse a Force Sensitive in the Force itself, giving the connection more strength than it would have otherwise.  The Force abilities that we see the Jedi, and the Sith use, are because of the Rituals and why those that do not go through either version have much subtler/weaker abilities. It also means that the Jedi (and the Sith of old+Maul) give off the eerie impression that, no matter the size or species, they are somehow so much larger than they appear. That there is something beneath their skin trying to get out. Also being plugged directly into Force in the way that they are skews the way they view reality.   It can be hard for the Jedi to connect with beings that are not at least a little Force Sensitive and the Jedi care deeply, but sometimes cannot see what the actual problem is (saying ‘there is no death there is only the force’ is not meant to be a trite saying nor do many of the Jedi quite understand why it is not as comforting as they think it is).

At the beginning of the Clone Wars, both the Jedi and the Clones hide their eldritch nature from each other. Both groups had experienced how showing their nature to the wrong people can break minds and they had no wish to hurt the other. 

The first sign that something was…strange was how in sync both groups were.  The Jedi marveled that the clones never cringed at the sight of them (and that which moved under their skin when they lost focus). The Clones were ecstatic that the Jedi never questioned when they had knowledge they should not have, nor the few occasions when multiple clones spoke from the same mouth.  

Nat born officers would make comments, not directly but meant to be overheard, how the Jedi Padawans grew more ‘other’ every time they visited the Temple on Coruscant. The clones would only stare blankly, to them it seemed like the Padawans were simply growing into themselves. 

Various Jedi and clones began to fall into love (Familial, romantic, sexual, platonic, and other).  It is Depa Billaba and Gray who first confess, and in confessing reveal their respective natures (Depa is the one who made the first move-as soon as the Clones knew of the Jedi’s nature they each sought out their Jedi).

The main reason that Jedi do not get in romantic relationships with non Force Sensitives (and Padme has no Force Sensitivity) is that theri nature pushes them to connect at the deepest level they can with their loved ones.  This can mentally damage non Force Sensitives.

For Obi Wan, if Cody had not confessed, Obi Wan never would have.  He had tried, before, to have romantic relationships with non force sensitives. A few times he had even managed to deny his own nature until the relationship dissolved naturally (Obi Wan, like most Jedi could be…odd, even when trying to fit in). It had become clear through his life that it just was not worth the pain to act on those kinds of feelings.  The knowledge that Cody could bond with him fully, was interested in him both romantically and sexually was a joy. Obi Wan was not even off put that by dating on clone, he was in affect dating all of the clones at once (who were also dating other Jedi)

Sometimes the Clones and Jedi switched partners. For instance Mace Windu, who was primarily dating Ponds, loved the Theater, which Ponds was ambivalent about but Bly also loved the theater (which Aayla actively disliked). So Bly and Mace had a standing monthly date night to a variety of theaters all over the galaxy, and at least once a year end up acting in a performance. Or how Fox was one of the only Clones that was not bored stupid at the Anniversary Ball, a pretentious event of a small but rich mid rim planet to celebrate the ratifying of a treaty, that Obi Wan is required to go to every year (even the years he was actively at war). So Fox is Obi Wan’s date, while Cody and Vos (who primarily dated the Coruscant Guard), would use the night to break up some kind of ring(slavery, drugs, smuggling, etc.)

Rex found that he fit neatly into Padme and Anakin’s relationship, somehow providing a stabilizing influence on their bond.  Padme and Anakin had bonded after the first battle of Geonosis but it was a case of Anakin being young and stupid and reckless, and Padme not actually understanding what Anakin was talking about when he tried to explain the risks (She thought he was saying that it might hurt her, and she was reassuring him that she trust him to be careful. He thought she was saying that she knew about the risks and was Force Sensitive enough to not be harmed).  There was already some damage done to  Padme’s mind (mostly in terms of willpower, personality, and impulse control) by the time Rex joined the bond, and not all of it was correctable, but most was. 

It is not the Jedi and the Clones that disrupt Palpatine’s plans (though the chips never worked, so eventually they would have). It was Dooku, Ventress, and Maul. Maul was the first True Sith, though it was accidental, in almost 1000 years. Dooku knew what it meant to be Jedi/Sith in the original sense and could tell that Palpatine did not. Ventress, like Dooku, had gone through the Jedi versions of the rituals (those rituals may have been passed down since before the split, but time had caused a bit of difference).  Because Palpatine has the deeper connection to the Force but not release valve, for lack of a better term, he is more immediately powerful but in the long run is doing far more damage to himself than he realizes.  Sometime before Maul would have gone after Satine, he encounters Ventress, who recognizes him as an actual Sith and brings him to Dooku. 

These three decide that they are going to destroy Palpatine (for being a Pretended Sith) and rebuild the actual Sith Order with the full Sith rituals. Maul is a bit surprised to realize that he, by himself, is more than a match for Palpatine (Since this was the man that had tormented him since childhood; he always had the picture that Palptine was bigger than life). Dooku then publishes all of the wrong doings he knew of from Palpatine’s entire circle-CIS and Republic alike- (and he knew about 80% of what was eventually uncovered). Then all three of them fuck off to Morriban to begin their research into resurrecting the Sith Order. 

The Jedi Order and the Clones collectively decide to let them, on the basis that at least they know where the three Sith are and it keeps them busy.

[constellation-skirmishes]

s t a r b o r n

[meteor-moon]

there was a boy with stars in his eyes