#you can decide who the nice senators were

[darkeyedreamer14]

So, recently, I found an old thermos of mine

The thermos in question

And when I saw it, the first thing that came to my mind was that it would be perfect for commander Fox, so I drew it

The thermos was drawn entirely from memory, so it doesn't fully resemble the original, but that's just a minor detail

[potofsoup]

Happy July 4th, everyone, and good luck to the UK voters out there!

Wow it's Year 11 of doing these!! Here's the AO3 link to the past 10 years, and here's the tumblr link.

Reminder that this is a long game -- some of the judges making decisions were appointed back in the 80s. Many of the cases that were decided this round were from Trump's term. So it's going to take long-term, consistent voting over a decade to start tipping things in the other direction. (Which I talked about in 2018 re: Trump shenanigans and 2022 re: Dobbs).

A lot has been done by the Biden administration (I'm assuming most folks have seen this post by boreal-sea with their very helpful sources), and much of that will be overturned by Trump, especially if he gets the Senate, and especially now that he would have a blank check for anything "official". So let's make sure that doesn't happen.

And even if Trump does get elected, your decisions down-ballot might effect control of the House or Senate, or might make it easier to vote next time, plus the whole plethora of state and local issues. It's Republican state attorney generals who are challenging climate regulations, for example.

Plus, when you really get down to it, only one of the candidates plans on pardoning himself and all his friends if he wins, and attacking the government if he loses. Maybe that guy shouldn't be the President.

If you're new to voting, remember to check voter registration deadlines! I'm a permanent vote-by-mail voter and it's so nice. :)

Transcript under the readmore

Page 1: Sam and Bucky meet up with Steve for a picnic. Steve: Thought you guys were still in Sudan? Bucky: I’m forcing Sam to take a break.

Sam collapses onto the picnic blanket. Sam: Oof, it just never stops, does it? Steve: Nope.

Bucky hands Sam an orange popsicle. Bucky: Eat and relax for a bit, Sam. Sam: Thanks.

Page 2: Bucky asks Steve: How are things state-side? Steve responds: HORRIBLE. Bucky: I thought you’ve been tentatively hopeful about what Biden has been able to achieve? Steve: I was! Student loans, child care, climate regulations, infrastructure, labor, trans rights … he’s quietly done a lot through regulatory improvements and congress bills. But now all people will talk about is how he’s OLD. And then there’s the Supreme Court’s decisions … Chevron and immunity… Steve puts his head in his hands, while Sam and Bucky look on with some concern.

Page 3: Bucky hands Steve a blue/raspberry popsicle: Steve, take a deep breath, and a popsicle. Sam: Sounds like we missed a lot. What’s going on? How bad is it? Steve: Pretty bad. The Supreme Court has made some decisions that give the Court and the President A LOT of discretionary power. Sam: Yikes, that doesn’t sound good. Steve: Well, the Chevron thing means that judges with life-term appointments can override policies made by government agencies. And now it’ll be harder to hold a President accountable because he will have immunity for any “official” actions.

Page 4: Sam: So if the President tries to, say, overturn a democratic election result, he’ll be allowed to as long as it’s in his job description? Steve: I don’t think threatening state electors is “official” business, but that will be decided by federal judges. Who get their jobs by approval from both the President and the Senate. Bucky: Yeesh. No wonder you’re stressed. Any good news? Steve: Well, thanks the Biden and the razor-thin Senate majority, the newer bills don’t rely on the Chevron deference. Still not great but not catastrophic. Sam, squirting ketchup on his hot dog: So what I’m hearing is that it’s now more important than ever to have a President and a Senate who you can trust to appoint fair judges, pass bills, and not commit crimes.

Page 5: Steve: Plus all of the state level offices, now that more and more deciding power has been thrown back to the states — abortion, LGBTQ rights, voting access… Bucky: Hey, at least this is a big election year so we can actually do something! Steve, with his arms crossed, looking surly: Except that all people want to talk about is how Biden is “too old” and “not doing enough,” as if that is on par with Trump’s desire to dismantle basic rights! As if the candidate who doesn’t embody ALL their ideals is not worth voting for! Bucky interrupts with a smart and a loud “PFFT.”

Page 6: Bucky: Um, Steve. YOU were like that in 1940. Sam, nudging Bucky: “Oh, this I gotta hear. Spill, Barnes.” In sepia, Steve is pacing around their apartment while Bucky is sitting and reading a newspaper. Steve: I can’t believe he’s running for a 3rd term! we need a fresh candidate to vote for! This is hardly a choice at all! AND he refuses to engage in Europe! All of Europe under fascist control and we’re just twiddling our thumbs? He’s letting millions die through his inaction! Bucky: Most people don’t want another war, Steve. If he came out for it, he would lose. Steve, indignant: But Buck, it’s your Polish relative who are in danger! Bucky, closing his newspaper and looking at Steve: Yeah, and between FDR and Willkes, I trust FDR to help if he could.

Page 7: Steve, in sepia, looking away: Should he be encouraged to do more? Maybe I should vote for Browder. The Communists have historically be Anti-Fascist.

Sam interrupts off-screen: Waitaminute! STEVE was going to PROTEST-VOTE? Steve: We were in a Blue State, Sam! Sam: But what about the down ballot races?! Steve: RELAX, I did my due diligence down-ballot. I wanted a senate that’s more progressive than the President.Voted LaGuardia for Mayor, too. Steve hesitates: Then, when I got to the President… I realized that the Best case scenario would be that my vote did nothing, versus if it actually spoiled the election. And when I asked myself who I could trust to work with my Senator… well, FDR had a good record with Labor. (sepia shot of young Steve voting) Bucky interrupts: Hold on, Steve.

Page 8: Bucky, eating a cookie, arching an eyebrow: You didn’t vote for Browder? Why didn’t you tell me? Steve: And have you say “I told you so” for the next century? Bucky: Heh.

Steve, with hand on his chin: What’s weird was that, despite everything, I still felt HORRIBLE when I ticked that box. Sam: Sounds like you built up the meaning of that vote far too much in your head. Logically, we know that a single box can’t represent all of the complexity of a whole system, but the desperately WANT it to. Just look at how people have built up so much around the term “Zionis” that it’s made productive conversations difficult.

Page 9: Sam and Steve speak in the background while Bucky reaches into the cooler and pulls out a box. Steve: Sigh. And that’s something that goes beyond the election. Sam: Which is why we need to vote, AND do other things. Bucky, looking at Steve and Sam: Like how Steve works to push organizations on the local level? Or like all the work you do as Captain America? Sam: Exactly. Vote AND.

Sam looks at Bucky fondly: Like how you vote AND make me and Steve take breaks. Bucky, looking stern because he can’t handle compliments: Shush, Sam.

Bucky holds up a cake that has the number “107” on it: It’s time for cake. Happy Birthday, Steve.

[beauty-funny-trippy]

Reasons why we know there's something wrong with Grandpa:

• believes immigrants are eating their neighbors pets because he heard someone say it on TV (without any evidence) • thinks injecting disinfectant into our veins might be a good idea. (It's definitely not, don't try it.) • claims America's F35 fighter jet is completely invisible, even if you're right next to it (like Wonder Woman's plane)

• praises white supremacists and KKK members who were chanting antisemitic hate speech, calling them "very fine people" • focuses on imaginary issues like preventing children from changing gender while at school, but ignores real problems like school shootings • thought it was a good idea to give away our desperately needed Covid test machines to our adversary ("Grandpa, what have you done?" — he can't be left alone for a minute) • decided to believe Putin's lies, but dismiss findings from America's intelligence agencies • claims America had airplanes during the Revolutionary War

• believes in the Nazi ideology that immigrants are "poisoning the blood of our country," and says some migrants are actually subhuman "animals" • insisted that the U.S. would have fewer coronavirus cases if it conducted less testing (yes, a U.S. president in charge of controlling the crisis, actually said something this inept, repeatedly) • due to his incompetence and lies during the Covid crisis, the U.S. had one of the highest rates of Covid deaths in the world • thinks windmills cause cancer and kill whales • speaks endlessly about his concerns re: dying by electrocution from a boat battery or being eaten by a shark

• thinks he's above the law and, as president, should be able to commit as many crimes as he wants • is a billionaire who whines about how badly he's been treated, then he's chauffeured to his private jet • likes to discuss Arnold Palmer's penis • after NINE years of repeatedly promising to unveil his Healthcare Plan "very soon," he admits he still has no real plan —only "concepts of a plan" • has a bizarre attraction to the fictional cannibal and serial killer, Hannibal Lector (why? no one knows —and everyone's afraid to ask)

• advocates dangerous plots, like using the military against Americans who disagree with him, or using the DOJ to arrest them, or just telling people to "beat the crap out of them" and he'll pay their legal fees • thinks having a national day of violence is a good idea (we should never have let Grandpa watch "The Purge") • wants to be the "law and order president," yet this 34 time convicted felon incites people to riot and to commit criminal acts of violence • unable to take the loss of an election like a man, he had a temper tantrum like a toddler, that culminated in a treasonous insurrection

⠀This guy is so delusional, he claims he's a genius because he often speaks incoherently in something he calls "the Weave." Here are two examples: • "How disgusted were all when we see all of us are when we see three days ago when we viewed their parade." Asheboro, NC, 8/21/24 • When asked, "What specific legislation will you commit to, to make child care affordable?" He responded, “Well, I would do that, and we’re sitting down, you know; I was, somebody, we had Senator Marco Rubio and my daughter, Ivanka, who was so impactful on that issue. ...But I think when you talk about the kind of numbers that I’m talking about that because the childcare is childcare, couldn’t, you know, there’s something you have to have it, in this country you have to have it.” New York, NY, 9/5/24 ⠀If this was anybody else's Grandpa, the family would be having discussions about who's going to go with Grandpa to the doctor to find out what's wrong with him, and who's going to be in charge of finding him a nice convalescent home to live in. ⠀My suggestion is that it might be a good idea to elect a president who has no cognitive impairment and can tell the difference between reality and delusions. Personally, I think that's a rather important quality in a president.

[saphronethaleph]

Niman, the Way of the Rancor

Jango muttered a curse, closing his commlink.

You just couldn’t get the informants these days. Jango had bribed people in the Kaminoan facility to be informed if anyone showed up asking after him, but he hadn’t managed to get them to realize that the arrival of a starship not long after he’d returned from Coruscant might be important.

And now he’d only found out that a Jedi was present when they’d actually asked to see the template for the clones.

“Boba,” he said. “We might have an unexpected guest. And we might need to leave – soon.”

“Got it, dad,” his son replied. “Now?”

“No, the Jedi’s coming this way,” Jango replied. “I’ll try and trick them, then we leave as soon as they’re not here. Is all my armour hidden?”

The attendance chime went, and Jango rolled his head back and forth slightly as Boba went to answer it.

“Boba?” he heard Taun We ask. “Is your father here?”

“Don’t worry about little old me,” a calm voice added. “Just here to visit.”

“May we see him?” Taun We added.

“...sure,” Boba said, after several seconds of silence. “Uh. Dad! Taun We’s here!”

Jango moved around the corner of the apartment, to look at the visiting Jedi, and nearly swallowed his tongue.

There was a kriffing Rancor standing behind Taun We. A Rancor wearing a utility belt, attached to which were two lightsabers – one about the size of a small claw, the other big enough that Taun We could have used it as a neck splint.

“Welcome back, Jango,” Taun We said. “Was your trip productive?”

Jango blinked several times.

“...why is there a Rancor behind you?” he asked.

“Hello,” the Rancor said, in that same calm voice. “My name is Knight Tosh. Can I come in?”

Jango was still staring.

“Isn’t it ‘may’?” Boba asked, in the tones of a child who was trying to notice something he could process.

“I’m not sure how big the hallway is,” Tosh explained. “If there’s a problem with my fitting in, that’s fine, I can sit out here and we can talk.”

Putting actions to words, she sat down.

Jango wasn’t sure exactly how he’d decided that the Rancor was a ‘she’, but he supposed they probably did have genders.

“...you’re a Rancor?” he said, still trying to get past that essential point.

“Yes,” Tosh agreed. “A proud daughter of Dathomir. I’m told I’m named for my grandmother, who was the first of us to learn to read and write.”

She steepled the fingers on her enormous clawed hands.

“Aide We,” she said, a little more formally. “I must inform you that I’m here for a number of reasons, not just one. You see, I’ve been looking into a recent assassination attempt on that nice Senator Amidala.”

“Oh, goodness!” Taun We said. “That is most worrying.”

“It is,” Tosh agreed, with a surprisingly kindly smile given that it was a Rancor smiling, something that Jango’s brain kept circling around to. “The assassin is dead, which is fortunate, and I believe that Jango here did us the favour of eliminating her. So I wanted to thank him personally, and also ask if he had any idea why that might have happened… why he might have been hired to kill that particular shapeshifter, that is.”

Then she frowned. “Oh – but where are my manners? We should really start with how it is that you came to be the template for the clone army! It must be a fascinating story. I assume your young son there is involved, somehow?”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, taking the mug from Cliegg Lars. “I think that’ll be enough for us for now.”

“Not a problem,” Cliegg replied. “You and the other Jedi are the one who rescued Anakin from his old life, that’d be enough to make you kin here, even before all you’ve done for us so far.”

“We do our best,” Obi-Wan smiled, taking a sip of the drink. “Very nice. Thank you again, Cliegg.”

“I don’t know what I expected,” Anakin admitted. “I never really imagined what it would be like to have my mom actually marry someone, but… I think he’s nice.”

“It’s not something the Jedi have much experience with,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m just as lost as you are, Anakin.”

“Are you sure this is a good place to hide out, Obi-Wan? Ani?” Padme asked.

She frowned, and waved her hand. “I don’t mean… that it’s a bad idea to be here. We’ve only been here two days and we’ve already rescued your mother, Ani. But if someone comes looking for us… we’re hiding with the only relatives Anakin has in the entire galaxy.”

“I’m quite sure that nobody will find us,” Obi-Wan replied.

“Yeah, I agree with Master Kenobi,” Anakin nodded. “If I was looking for where a Jedi was hiding, I’d never even think of looking for their family. Jedi just don’t think about family. It’s not something we do.”

“But the people who are trying to hunt me down… they do think about family, don’t they?” Padme said. “Or they might, anyway…”

“In which case, fortunately, we are in a very large desert,” Obi-Wan said. “Mos Espa would have been a suitable enough place to hide out, but now we’re off in the desert. A planet is a very big place to hide someone, Senator – and if there’s anyone in the galaxy who wouldn’t try to betray us, it’s Anakin’s close family. Even before we rescued his mother.”

Padme looked conflicted.

“I suppose you’re right,” she said. “I just worry that we’re too easy to find here. I don’t know how rational that is, but the extent of the resources available to our enemies…”

“Where would you have preferred?” Obi-Wan asked. “If this isn’t where you’d have thought to hide, where would you have hidden?”

“I’d have gone to Naboo,” Padme replied. “Relatives of my family have a house up in the lakes, in the mountains. It’s wonderful and calm and nobody ever goes there.”

“Actually, I like the sound of that, Master,” Anakin said. “Are you sure we can’t change plans and go there, now? There’s a lake there.”

“We brought a lake with us, Anakin,” Obi-Wan replied, tossing his head to indicate the beaten-up old freighter they’d used to get to Tatooine. “Or a large swimming pool, at least.”

Beru Lars chuckled.

“You three are terrible at this,” she said, from over in the corner. “We’re grateful for your arrival, but… none of you know the first thing about hiding.”

“We don’t?” Anakin asked. “What do you mean?”

“ Tatooine is a planet with slavery, which means a planet with crime,” Beru told them. “If you’re going into hiding, you want to get a good balance between the support network and being impossible to trace back to your owners.”

“Of course,” Padme murmured. “It’s a shame the Republic hasn’t been able to do anything about the slavery out here.”

“That’s your department, isn’t it” Beru asked. “With your being a senator, that is.”

“Padme’s brought it up in the Senate a few times,” Anakin said, defending her. “It’s never gone far, though.”

“Part of the problem is that the Republic doesn’t have the ability to do much about it,” Padme admitted. “We have a navy, but no real army – and bombarding Tatooine to help end slavery seems like a bad idea.”

Beru inclined her head.

“That’s fair,” she conceded. “It’s easy enough to forget that, out here. And I’d bet it seems hard to remember there are people in chains, when you’re on glittering Coruscant.”

“We could be doing more than we are,” Padme allowed. “Once this is over, I’ll see what I can do.”

Darth Tyrannus looked at Jango, his gaze calm. Calm, in the way that the ground was calm, under a descending meteor.

He was extremely unimpressed.

“You told her everything?” he asked, his fingers drumming on his belt next to the handle of his lightsaber.

“Not everything, but… more than I think I should have,” Jango replied, somewhat embarrassed. “You weren’t there. It was… I’d like to see you concentrate on what your story is when there’s a Rancor staring at you. Complimenting you. Offering you tips on how to make tea.”

He shook his head. “Saying that she could smell Coruscant on your clothes. And that’s before the fact that she’s a Jedi.”

Dooku sniffed.

“I think that if I were confronted with a Rancor, and it pulled out a lightsaber, I would be relieved,” he said.

There was a sort of soft thump behind him, and Jango glanced up before going pale and holding up his hands.

“Good afternoon,” a pleasant voice said. “Dooku, it’s nice to meet you at last. Should I call you Count? Or do you prefer the name Darth Tyrannus?”

Dooku knew what he was going to see behind him.

He knew it.

But he had to turn around and look anyway, and so he did.

“Tosh,” he said, and this time he did take his lightsaber off his belt – though he didn’t light it. “How did you get here?”

“A tracking beacon, of course,” Tosh replied. “Well, actually two, one of them was in the fidget spinner I gave young Boba, but I didn’t want him to feel embarrassed so I stuck one to Mr. Fett’s ship as well. I must say, I do like the climate here. Pleasantly dry.”

She smiled, in a way that was somehow disarming until you refocused and remembered what the smile was attached to. “You know, we’re actually somewhat related! In the Jedi sense, at least. I’m not sure how you’ve kept up with master-student relationships in the Temple since you left, but that nice dear Yoda trained me for a few years.”

Dooku did his very best to contain a nervous swallow.

“I have surpassed my old Master,” he said. “I doubt even he could defeat me now.”

“Oh, that’s quite possible,” Tosh agreed, nodding. “Yoda’s always been sentimental, you know. He finds it so hard to fight seriously. It’s not something I’d call a character flaw, but it is what it is.”

She shrugged. “I’d very much appreciate it if we didn’t have to fight today, you know. Since I know you’re a Sith, what about if you give me information on your Master? I know that betrayal is the kind of thing the Sith like to do, and that way we don’t have to fight.”

Dooku evaluated his options.

All it would take for his plans to hold together would be for him to be confident in his ability to defeat this Jedi Knight. This mere… Jedi Knight.

This mere… Rancor… Jedi Knight…

The other option was looking appealing. It was difficult to deny that.

“It’s hard to believe,” Mace Windu admitted, leaning back in his chair.

It was a common posture in the Jedi Council whenever this particular Knight was reporting to them, and Mace felt a most un-Jedi-like pang of jealousy for Yarael Poof. Long-necked and calm, the Quermian Master was the only one able to look Tosh in the eye without either leaning back or standing up.

“Hmm,” Yoda mused. “Mistaken you are not, I assume?”

“Being mistaken is always a possibility, Master,” Tosh answered. “But the plan that Dooku told me does seem to make a good deal of sense… it’s one of those plans where the Sith would win no matter which side of the war was triumphant.”

She spread her massive hands. “It could all be a lie… but it does explain a few things, which leads me to think it might be true. I’d recommend at least testing it.”

“A good approach,” Ki-Adi-Mundi said, to nods from Plo Koon and Sasee Tiin.

“It ties into what Master Gallia has been discovering recently as well,” the latter said. “The Trade Federation’s involvement in this is unsurprising, but the Techno Union, Intergalactic Bank Clan… again, investigation is needed.”

A ripple of agreement ran around the Council.

“And what of the clone army?” Yoda asked. “Commissioned by us, the Kaminoans were told.”

“Oh, I thought the best thing to do was to send them to make sure that nice Senator Amidala was safe,” Tosh replied, with a pleasant smile.

Windu frowned, then looked over at Yoda.

“When was the last time we got an update from Kenobi and Skywalker?” he asked.

“It’s been… a while,” Yarael Poof said, doing his neck exercises. “Last contact was shortly after they reached Tatooine. They were going to avoid broadcasting to make sure they weren’t tracked down.”

Mace Windu activated a holocommunicator.

“Old Folks Home to Guiding Light,” he said. “Knight Kenobi. What is your situation?”

“Guiding Light copies,” a hazy image of Obi-Wan Kenobi replied. “Master Windu, I think we just liberated Tatooine by accident.”

“By accident?” Ki-Adi-Mundi replied. “How exactly did you-”

He stopped, remembering the missions that Kenobi and his Padawan had been on.

“Never mind, carry on,” he requested. “What happened?”

“Someone sent us an army,” Obi-Wan said. “We didn’t actually order them to do anything, but Senator Amidala gave some speeches and I think things sort of escalated from there…”

[cyarikaplease]

wreck my plans, that’s my man

din djarin x f!reader

summary: You’re the daughter of a senator on Coruscant and you’ve been set up in an arranged marriage to another senator’s son for both your father and his father’s political gain. Your father hires Din Djarin to transport you to Naboo where you’re supposed to meet your fiancé’s family and prepare for the wedding. On the trip to Naboo you form a relationship together in secret but after you arrive on Naboo he’s hired to be your bodyguard up until the wedding. But will you actually go though with the wedding? That’s for you and Din to decide.

You gaze down at the sea of speeders beneath you as you stand on your balcony on Coruscant. The industrialized planet is a far cry from your home, Savareen. You never thought in your wildest dreams you would miss the deserts and the oceans of your home planet but now that you moved to Coruscant you’re missing it now more than ever. Your father decided he wanted a career in politics so he moved your family to Coruscant. You definitely could live on your own back home but your father wanted everyone together for his “political image” or whatever. 

You hear your father calling your name behind you so you look over your shoulder to find him and an unknown man standing across the room. 

“I want to introduce you to Senator Lokato,” he says. 

You turn to walk over to them, and notice that Senator Lokato is wearing the typical senator “uniform”; dark colored robes that go all the way down to the floor. Senator Lokato’s are a dark gray and your father’s are navy blue. It’s weird seeing your father trying to fit in with these types of people. 

“Hello. Nice to meet you,” you say awkwardly, not really understanding what your business was with him.

“I know you’ve been struggling to make friends and meet others your age here so we thought you’d like to meet his son.”

“...Okay,” you say hesitantly, following them down the hallway and into your parent’s living room. 

There’s a man sitting on the couch who you can only assume is Senator Lokato’s son. He’s about your age, maybe a few years older. He rises when he sees you and walks to meet you in the middle of the room. 

“I’m Valsi. Pleased to meet a lovely lady like yourself,” he says, giving you a suggestive smirk. 

Maybe you would be flattered by his forward nature if he weren’t so… plain looking. He’s a little taller than you, a tad muscular and just so… plain. He’s got the kind of eyes that are just soulless and he bares a striking resemblance to his father. 

“Nice to meet you, too,” you offer politely. 

“Well, we’ll let you two get to know each other,” Senator Lokato says, clapping his hands together.

“Yes, have fun you two!” your father says a bit too cheerily before leaving with Lokato.

“Please, sit,” Valsi says… in your own home. 

You sit on the couch, keeping your body language tight and uninviting. The more you see of this guy the more you realize you’re not gonna want anything to do with him.

“I’m not sure what your father has told you but I have family on Naboo. We could raise the children there, of course. We can bring them to visit Savareen, too. But… a more civilized place like Naboo is better. And Coruscant is too busy for small children. Maybe we could relocate here when they’re older? But-”

“Excuse me?” you ask. You were zoning out at the sound of his monotone voice until he started mentioning children. 

“Well of course we’re going to have children?” he says, in a tone that makes it sound like you’re the stupid one.

“Of course we’re going to have children? We don’t know each other. I literally just met you today,” you snap back.

“Oh, I see. Your father didn’t tell you. We’re getting married.”

“You’re funny if you think I’m getting married to you,” you laugh.

“You can laugh all you want but our fathers already made a deal. We get married in a month,” he says, folding his arms.

The realization is settling in. Your father was trying to get you to “make friends” alright. He’s trying to sell you off to some man for his own political game. You should’ve seen this coming. Ever since your father has become a member of the Senate he’s been obsessed with perfecting his image and gaining more public approval.

“You might be okay being a puppet for your father but I’m certainly not,” you snap, getting up and storming over to the door. 

As you enter the hallway you see your father and Lokato who were clearly listening in on your interaction. You scoff at them both and stomp off your bedroom.

“She’ll come around,” you hear your father say softly before closing the sliding door behind you. 

You fall into your bed and start crying; the weight of everything hitting you all at once. Between being forced to leave your home planet, moving to a strange new place and now all of a sudden being shoved into an arranged marriage you’re feeling completely hopeless. 

Eventually you drift off to sleep, your own tears aiding you in the process. Your dreams are filled with your home planet and of travels all on your own, with no one forcing you to go anywhere or do anything. It almost feels too real because when you wake up you forget the horrors of reality for a moment. 

You get changed into a silky pale blue dress before returning to the living room. That was another thing about your father’s new found political life; your wardrobe was completely different. Gone were the days of flowy pants, boots and earth tones. Now your wardrobe consists of extravagant gowns, robes and jewelry. It’s all very beautiful and maybe just maybe you could enjoy your new look if it wasn’t being forced upon you. 

You find your father sitting on the couch, reading something on his holo-pad. When he notices your presence he looks up and shoots you a faux sympathetic glance. You sit on the opposite end of the couch silently, not even knowing what to say to the man who’s trying to strip you of your bodily autonomy. 

“I’m sorry, my dear. I just think this is what’s best for us. The Lokatos are very well off. You’ll be set for life,” he says, setting the holo-pad down on the table in front of him.

“You’re forcing me to marry someone I don’t know… let alone even love! I really don’t care how rich they are,” you say, folding your arms. 

“It’s for the best. Especially if you want to maintain this new lifestyle that you’ve become accustomed to.”

“You mean the one that you forced upon us? If I were up to me I would be home right now,” you fight back.

He sighs, not looking to listen to any more of your protests. 

“Look, Valsi left today to go visit his family on Naboo. After he gets some business sorted there you’re going to meet him. You’ll be leaving tomorrow. I’ve hired someone to take you there, some Mandalorian. You leave tomorrow.”

You scoff and get up, retreating to your room where you go to bed again, wallowing in your own sadness until you decide to pack for the next day. Your parents call you for dinner but you decline, not wanting to see them but also too upset to eat. You go to bed that night and have a dream that this Mandalorian takes you anywhere else but Naboo. It’s a shame really. You’ve heard how beautiful Naboo is and under any other circumstances you’d be jumping at the chance to go. But when you’re going under the pretense of meeting your arranged husband and his family, you can think of a million other places you’d rather be. 

You wake up the next morning and get ready for your journey, the nerves brewing in your stomach. You meet your father in the living room again without saying a word to him. He sends for a servant to collect your bag before leading you to the docking bay. You don’t say a word to him the whole way there. He makes attempts at small talk, telling you how much you’re going to love Naboo and how you’re going to have such a good time. But you can’t be bothered to entertain him. 

You reach the docking bay and in front of you is a large ship; a Razor Crest your father tells you. The exit ramp opens and that’s when you see him walking towards you; a Mandalorian in full beskar, silver and shiny. He has a sort of confidence about him when he walks that commands the attention of anyone nearby. 

“Mando!” your father says happily as he stops in front of the both of you, “Thanks for agreeing to do this.”

“Half the credits, the other half after the job is done, right?” he says, making no time for pleasantries. His modulated voice scratches an itch in your brain you didn’t know was there. 

“O-of course,” your father stutters, pulling out a small bag from his robes. 

The Mandalorian takes it and nods with a slight tip of his helmet. 

“Let’s go,” he says curtly, turning and walking back towards the Razor Crest. 

He seems… unpleasant. And you’re going to have to spend several days with him alone holed up in this ship. Great. 

Your father goes for a hug but you rebuff him, walking to the ship without looking back. The servant follows with your bags and drops them off before leaving. The Mandalorian closes the exit ramp and retreats to the cockpit without saying a word. You follow him and sit in the passenger seat. You watch him prepare the ship for takeoff while he doesn’t say a single word to you. So offer some conversation.

“So… Do you always do stuff like this?” you ask.

“Stuff like what?” he replies, not looking at you.

“Transporting people around.”

“No. I’m a bounty hunter.”

“Really? How’d you get roped into this?”

“Credits,” he says plainly.

“Hope that it was worth it…” you grumble under your breath.

He turns his seat around and the T-shaped visor practically burns a hole into you. You can’t see his face but you can feel his stone cold gaze and it sends shivers through you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You’re taken aback. Is he actually offended by your snide little comment?

“You’re bringing me to Naboo to meet my soon-to-be husband. The whole thing is a forced, arranged marriage. Did you know that?” you say defensively, folding your arms across your chest.

“No, I don’t ask questions like that. All I need to know is that I’m bringing a princess to Naboo and how much I’ll be paid.”

“I’m not a princess,” you scoff.

“Whatever you say, princess,” he says, turning to face the control panel again.

You let out an exasperated sigh and he finishes preparing the ship for takeoff. He straps himself in and asks if you’re strapped in, too. 

“You buckled up, princess?” 

“Yup.”

He takes off and you look at Coruscant below as you leave, pretending you’re going anywhere you want and not with some grumpy Mandalorian. 

Once you’ve left the atmosphere you ask, “So how long is it going to be until we get to Naboo?”

“About seven standard days,” he says nonchalantly.

Great. Seven days of being holed up in this cramped ship with him. 

He makes the jump to lightspeed and you’re enveloped in a cool blue glow.

“You can unbuckle now. I’ve set an auto pilot course for Naboo. We shouldn’t need to stop for fuel if all goes well.”

Pretty much as soon as he said the word “unbuckle” you were leaving the cockpit to go stretch your legs. You only half listened to the rest of what he’s saying. To be honest, you don’t really care for him. 

You pace up and down the storage area of the Crest for what feels like forever, wondering what kinds of weapons and gadgets he has stowed away in there. You sit on some crates and mess around on your holo-pad for a while. It’s really fucking boring and Mando isn’t one for small talk. 

He keeps to himself mostly, periodically checking in on you as you keep yourself entertained. He doesn’t really have an opinion on you just yet. He assumes you think he doesn’t like you but that’s just how he is with everyone; a little standoffish. He watches you as you pace the storage area and tries to ignore the way your hips sway when you walk; or the way your brows furrow when you read something on your holo-pad. You’re just so… cute to him, in your pretty dress that hugs your figure perfectly. In all honesty, he feels bad for you, too. Once he learned you were set to be in an arranged marriage his apathy towards you started shifting into something else. 

Eventually it’s the end of the first day cycle and he realizes you should probably get to bed soon. He sits beside you on a crate you’re reading your holo-pad on and says gently, “You need to sleep.”

He half expected a snarky response or some form of protest from you but you just yawn and let out a soft, “Okay.”

He leads you to the cot across the room in a little cubby. 

“It’s a little small but it should be alright for you,” he says.

“What about you? Where are you going to sleep?” you ask. 

His chest gets tight over your concern for him. 

“Don’t worry about me.”

“But where are you going to sleep?” you ask, not letting it go.

“...The floor? Or maybe in one of the seats in the cockpit,” he says reluctantly. 

“That’s ridiculous. Just sleep in here with me.”

His mind is spinning at the thought of sleeping on the cot with you. But he also wants to respect your personal space. You’re engaged to someone else whether it’s arranged or not.

As if you could read his mind you say, “We’re both adults here. I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t comfortable with it.”

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath. 

You excuse yourself to the refresher to change into your pajamas; a soft oversized shirt and a pair of sleep shorts. He removes his armor and weapons in the meantime, leaving only his flight suit and his helmet on. You crawl into the cot with him and it’s a tight squeeze. You figure out the most comfortable position is him spooning you, his large arm draped over your side. You get a glimpse of his gloveless hand and make a mental note of his skin tone; the only indication you have of what he looks like underneath all the beskar. It’s large and calloused, most likely from years of working with his hands. 

“So… Do you ever take the helmet off?” you ask. 

“Only when I’m alone.”

“So if I wasn’t here right now, you could take it off,” you say, feeling guilty. 

He doesn’t say anything. If he answers with a yes you’re just going to feel bad. And it isn’t your fault. He chose to follow the creed. 

“I should sleep somewhere else. Just so you can take that thing off and have a chance to really breathe,” you say, starting to get up.

His arm around you tightens. He doesn’t want you to leave. It’s nice having someone else to lay with; to sleep with, regardless of the fact you’re engaged to someone else. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” he says softly, “I’m used to it.”

“...Are you sure?”

“Yes, mesh’la. Go to sleep.”

Mesh’la? What does that mean? You feel sleep overtaking you so you decide to ask in the morning. You drift off to sleep with the sounds of his modulated breathing soothing you.

He wakes up before you and admires how peaceful you look, eyes closed and lashes fanned out against your face. He could stay there for a while, taking in all of your beauty but he needs to get up and check on the autopilot. He gets out of the cot; careful to not disturb you. He replaces his armor and his weapons before retreating to the cockpit. He checks to make sure the Crest is still on course and tries to ignore the excitement brewing in his stomach.

You wake up in the morning and he’s gone. You’re shocked for a moment but then you remember he’s probably just in the cockpit. You get up and stretch before going to meet him in the cockpit. The blue light whizzing by around you makes it feel like it’s not morning; like no time has passed. You sit in one of the passenger seats, not saying a word to him. 

“How did you sleep?” he asks softly. 

“Good… How did you sleep?”

“Good,” he says awkwardly. 

“Okay well… I think I’m gonna use the refresher?” you say, more so in an asking tone. 

“Go right ahead,” he says, turning his seat to face you. 

You catch a glimpse of your reflection in his helmet and notice your bedhead. Feeling embarrassed you retreat to the refresher and spend a while in there, letting the warm water soothe you. You change into a new dress when you’re done, this one lower cut than the one from yesterday. You step out of the refresher and back into the storage area, almost bumping right into him. 

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize. 

But he doesn’t say a word, admiring your beauty once again; fresh faced with wet hair… and of course the hint of cleavage peeking out from your dress. 

Why isn’t he saying anything? you wonder, Did I do something to upset him?

“Y-you should eat,” he says, tripping on his words ever so slightly.

“Okay…You should, too.”

“Okay,” he says, turning to grab some rations for both of you.

“We just have to eat separately,” he says.

“Of course! Where do you want me?”

Against me, under me, he thinks to himself.

“You stay out here. I’ll go on the cot and shut the door,” he says.

You nod and he hands you your ration before going into the cubby and closing the door. You sit on the floor and lean back against it, wanting to feel close to him for some strange reason… And then you realize your own apathy towards him is melting away and changing into something else, too. But you can’t put your finger on what.

He sits on his cot and removes his helmet. You can hear the hiss of the modulator through the door and your mind races with ideas of what he looks like. 

“I’m against the door… I just wanted it to feel like we were eating together.”

His heart flutters. “That’s okay, mesh’la,” he says, using the nickname subconsciously. 

“No more princess, huh?” you tease, but also listen carefully to his helmetless, unmodulated voice. 

He almost chokes on his food at your boldness. “Well uh, you said you weren’t a princess…”

“That’s right. I’m not. But what does mesh’la mean?”

He has two options. He could tell you the truth… or he could lie. What are the chances of you meeting another Mandalorian anyway? But he doesn’t want to lie to you of all people. You deserve someone who’s honest and good to you.

“It’s… Mando’a for beautiful,” he says, wincing at your response. At least, you can’t see how flustered he’s getting. 

“Oh… thank you, Mando,” you respond. That’s the first time you’ve used any sort of nickname to address him. And he takes note of that.

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” he asks.

“No! Not at all. You’re very sweet.”

He relaxes a bit and you two talk while you eat, getting to know each other a bit more. You could sit and listen to his unmodulated voice tell you stories for hours. But eventually you’re both done eating and you hear him get up. You stand up, too and hear the hiss of the modulator once again. He opens the door and you both stare at each other for a moment, both surprised at your connection and concern for one another. He goes back up to the cockpit and sits in the pilot seat. You grab your holo-pad and follow him, sitting in one of the passenger seats in silence. Except this time, it’s a comfortable silence. And that was the start of Mando’s mysterious, protective nature breaking down the walls you put up around you. 

You fall into a routine during the rest of your traveling days. You sit in the cockpit together in comfortable silence. You sleep pressed up against each other. Your touch and gaze begin to linger. You grow more and more comfortable with each other; so comfortable that you almost forget you’re on your way to meet your fiancé and his family. 

But at night when you’re sleeping in Mando’s arms you don’t have a care in the world. You’ve grown so accustomed to sleeping with him that you know you’ll miss this when it’s over. It’s the same position every night, your back flush against his chest and his arm around your waist. And also… his hard length pressed against your butt and lower back. He wasn’t hard the first night most likely because he was so nervous. But as you both grew more comfortable you noticed the hardness more and more. You’ve never said anything about it. You didn’t want to embarrass him. 

But now it's your last night together. You’ll arrive on Naboo in the morning and your time together will be over. And you’ve come to the conclusion that you want Mando. Even if you won’t have him again after tonight. So when his cock goes hard against your back you push your butt into him, taking him by surprise. 

“...What are you doing, mesh’la?”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” you ask suggestively. 

“But you’re engaged, mesh’la,” he says quietly, defeated even.

“But I don’t want him, Mando. I don’t even know him. I was forced into this blindly. And if I have to go be with him tomorrow… I want one last good time; one last good night with you.” 

“Okay, mesh’la. Anything for you.”

And with his approval you’re pushing your butt back into him as his bare hand grabs your hip. He pulls into you, cock pressing hard against you as you ache for more touch. You rest your back on the cot and he takes the opportunity to hover over you. His hand trails up your thigh and hooks onto the waistband on your shorts. He pulls them off in one swift motion before spreading your thighs apart. His large fingers tease your entrance which was getting wetter by the second. He swept his fingers up your core, marveling how ready you were for him. He brings his thumb to your clit before moving the helmet against your face so could whisper in your ear. 

“I bet you wanted this every night, didn’t you mesh’la?”

You whimper in response, the featherlight touch of his fingers driving you insane. 

“Please. I need more.”

“What’s that?” he teases, “Are you begging for me, cyar’ika?”

You’re too horny and frustrated to retain any sort of pride now so you nod, begging even more.

“Yes. Yes, I am. Please, Mando, I need more.”

He plunges his index finger into you without warning, working your walls as your moans fill the small space.

“Look at you, cyar’ika. Already a mess just from one finger,” he purrs.

“What does that one mean? you ask. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers against your ear just as he slips in another finger eliciting a loud moan from you. 

He curls them upwards and brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing small, fast circles around it as waves of pleasure shoot through your body. You feel your muscles tense up in anticipation of relief and you know you’re close to finishing. 

“I’m close, Mando,” you whine. 

“Din,” he says. 

“Hmm?” you ask, too far gone to form a complete question. 

“My name is Din, Din Djarin. Call me by my name when you cum, cyar’ika.”

All you can do is whimper in response. But that isn’t good enough for him. He stops swirling his thumb around your clit and slows his fingers inside of you. 

“What was that, cyar’ika?” he teases, moving his fingers painstakingly slow. 

“Y-yes, Din,” you say in between labored breaths. 

“Good girl,” he praises before picking up the pace again. 

Your hands grip the edges of the cot for purchase as you roll your hips against him, desperate for his complete touch. He rests on the back of his heels and brings his hand to your abdomen, right above where his fingers are inside you and where your g-spot is. He pushes his fingers against it inside you and presses down on your abdomen ever so gently, pleasuring your g-spot internally and externally. Between the three different spots of stimulation you’re at the brink of orgasm again. And this time he lets you have it, making a mess beneath you on the cot and soaking his hand down to his wrist.

“Din, I’m coming,” you moan, arching your back up against him. 

“That’s right, cyar’ika. Cum on my fingers. Just like that,” he says, bringing his helmet by your ear once more. 

Your cunt convulses around his fingers in rhythmic waves before eventually stopping. He watches you writhe in pleasure and feels a sense of pride knowing he got you to cum hard like that. He waits until you’re finished before pulling them out of you; you whine at the sudden absence. 

“Don’t worry, mesh’la. I’m gonna take care of you,” he says before leaning back and pulling his cock out of his flight suit. 

He slicks his cock with your release and you spread your legs wider to accommodate how broad he is. He grabs your hand as he pushes into you. You gasp at his length, filling you completely. He buries his cock into you down to the hilt and showers you with praise. 

“You take my cock so good, cyar’ika,” he says as he stretches your walls.

His other hand moves to your tit, thumbing around your nipple and worrying into a stiff peak. It pulls a deep moan from prompting him to explore your body and learn just what makes you melt. His eyes are locked with yours, even though you can’t see his. He tears away his gaze for a moment to look down at your cunt and the way it grips his cock moving in and out of you. He curses at the sight, mesmerized by it before fucking you relentlessly. You feel your core tense up again before washing you over with the biggest wave of relief. You know he’s at the edge, too. He goes to pull out but you don’t want him to, not ready for the fullness you’re feeling to go away. 

“I have an implant,” you say quickly.

And with that he drives his hips into you one last time before releasing his load into you, coating your insides. He cums with a loud groan, spilling out of the helmet. He lays down, keeping you inside him and pulls you against his chest. 

“You’re amazing, cyar’ika,” he purrs, hand trailing up and down your figure. 

You sigh happily in response. He goes to pull out but you stop him, telling him you want to fall asleep like this. He relaxes and settles against you, wrapping your arm around your waist. 

“Thank you for that, Din,” you whisper. 

“Anything for you, cyar’ika.” he whispers back as sleep overtakes you both. 

You wake up to the sensation of his cock hardening inside you. You let out an involuntary moan and move your ass against him. He grinds back into you before waking up fully, hand gripping your waist tightly. You move back and forth with each other in a perfect rhythm, your ass colliding with his groin, plunging his cock into you as deep as it can go. He reaches forward and parts your legs slightly so he can rub your clit. You moan and lean back against his strong chest while he fucks you; the dual sensation taking you to the edge quickly. You cum simultaneously, pulling every last drop out of him as your cunt flutters around his cock. You’re feeling fuller than ever, between his length and having taken two of his loads. You’re going to miss this feeling so much. You’ve only had sex twice now and you’re already missing the feeling of him inside you. 

“You’re so dirty, cyar’ika,” he muses, hands roaming your body again, “Going to another man, full of my cum.”

“And wishing it was you,” you whine. 

“I know,” he whispers, “At least I got to experience this with you.” 

“Yeah…” you trail off, the realization of today settling in. 

“I guess I should go get ready,” you sigh. 

He doesn’t say anything but you can feel him exhale behind you. You lift yourself up out of the cot and strip your pajamas. He sits up on the cot and admires your naked form in front of him, fearing it’s the last time he’ll ever see it. He wishes he could just rip off the helmet and take an unobstructed mental image but he knows he can’t. You go get dressed for the day, feeling so angry and defeated about your situation that you don’t bother to shower and wash him off of you. If you’re going to walk into an arranged marriage you’re going to do it encapsulated in the scent of your lover and filled with his cum. 

Din reattaches his armor and his weapons before retreating to the cockpit. You gather your things and meet him there, sitting in the passenger seat silently. The gloom of the situation permeated the space and both of you were feeling it. This time the silence is sad and lonely instead of comfortable like it had been for the past several days. 

Naboo comes into view and you gasp at the lush planet. Why does this beautiful place have to hold such terrible implications? Din watches the way your face lights up as you admire the scenery. He received coordinates where to land prior to leaving and heads there. One the Crest is stationary and he gets up to help you with his bags, pulling you into one final hug before lowering the exit ramp. 

“Take care, ner alor’ika.”

“Hmm, what does that one mean?” you ask against his chest plate. 

“My princess,” he says softly, moving his hand to the small of your back. 

He pulls away and lowers the exit ramp. You see the unfortunately familiar face of Valsi and an older lady who can only assume is his mother. You walk down the exit ramp with Din as he carries your bags.

Valsi’s mom greets you with a cheery hello. She starts rambling on about how excited is to show you around. Din sets your bags down on the ground and Valsi calls for a servant to collect them before taking your arm. They lead you away and you look over your shoulder to get one final glimpse at him before he turns and walks to the crest, the exit ramp closing behind him. A pit forms in your stomach as you hear his engines power up. 

Valsi’s grip on your arm is tight and constricting as his mother shows you around. It really is a beautiful place; high vaulted ceilings decorated with elaborate paintings supported by strong columns. But you can’t admire the place without Valsi making a snide comment. 

“You won’t find places like this on Savareen,” he says, a dark smirk painting his face. 

“Valsi! Don’t be rude!” his mother scolds. At least she’s more polite than him. 

“Well, it’s true…” he says under his breath. 

His mother shakes her head and rolls her eyes before leading you outside. The garden is vibrant, green and full of life. Species of flowers you’ve never seen before lined up in neat rows with various sculptures arranged amongst them. Across the way there’s a shining, bright blue lake and in the distance mountains loom above casting their mystified reflection on the water’s surface. Minus the mountains, the lake reminds you of the oceans on Savareen and your heart aches. 

His mother goes to say something but she’s cut off by a blinding silver reflection walking across the garden. Your stomach lurches at the sight; Din Djarin walking towards you in a field of flowers. A giddy smile breaks out onto your face and you don’t care about Valsi or his mother’s reaction.

“You came back,” you say as he reaches you, trying to mask your excitement. 

“I’ve been hired by your father to look after you whenever Valsi is busy… up until the wedding,” he says.

“That’s ridiculous. We have plenty of guards here that can look after her,” Valsi retorts, narrowing his eyes. 

“Her father’s orders,” Din shrugs.

“Ugh, whatever.”

A servant comes out to the garden and motions for Valsi to come over to him.

“I have meetings I need to attend. See you for dinner tonight,” he says, squeezing your hand.

You pull back in disgust and he leaves to follow the servant inside.

“Feel free to explore on your own,” his mother says, “When you’re ready to be shown to your room, ask a servant and one of them will show you.”

“Thank you,” you smile. His mother really does seem like a nice woman. It’s a shame her son turned out the way he did. 

It’s just you and Din alone in the garden, standing in front of each other. You start walking towards the water and he follows you, admiring how the sun hits your face and how your hair catches the wind. You’re relieved to be with him again even if it’s only for a short time. You stop at the railing and rest your hands on it, leaning forward and looking at the rolling waves of the lake. The breeze blows your hair back and fills you senses with the scent of the flora around you. You look over at Din and wonder what it’s like for him under there. Does he ever miss the feeling of the sun on his face or the wind in his hair? Does he even have hair? You have no idea what he looks like. Can he smell things underneath the helmet?

“What are you thinking about, mesh’la?”

“What you look like… and if you can smell things through the helmet.”

His gloved hand on the railing slides towards yours, resting it on top. “Of course, I can smell, cyar’ika. I would fall asleep with you pressed up against me, smelling your sweet scent every night.”

Maker, you want him so bad right now. You inch closer towards him, barely keeping any space between you two.

“Cyar’ika…” he says nervously, “What if someone sees?”

“I don’t care,” you groan, resting your head against his chest plate, facing the water. You could stay like this forever, in his arms and surrounded by nature. 

But eventually you start to think that people might worry if you’re gone for a long time with him so you retreat back inside. You ask a servant to show you to your room. He leads you down a long hallway and stops at one of the doors. The room is beautiful, just like the rest of the mansion. You have a balcony that looks right out to the lake. Your bags are beside your bed and you turn to ask the servant about Din. 

“What about him?”

“Uh, Master Valsi never told me of any arrangements for him.”

“Well he is my bodyguard. I would like him to have a room not too far from me.”

“Very well, miss. I’ll get started on that. Dinner is in about an hour.”

“Thank you,” you smile. He closes the door behind him, leaving you and Din alone. He closes the gap between you and snakes his arm around to the small of your back. 

“Do you know how badly I want to take you right here, cyar’ika?” he whispers.

“I mean… we have an hour,” you say suggestively.

That’s all the clearance he needs. He pushes you down on the bed gently and pulls up the skirt of your dress to reveal no underwear.

“No underwear, cyar’ika? Iba’ etyc alor’ika.” What a dirty little princess. 

You moan at his words and spread your legs open for him, aching for his touch. He wastes no time bringing his fingers to your entrance and stroking it lightly, in awe of how wet you are already.

“How bad do you want it, cyar’ika?”

“So bad, Din. Please I can’t wait any longer,” you whine. 

He chuckles at your neediness and slides a finger in, curling it upwards against your walls. Barely giving you time to adjust, he pushes another in, anxious to get you cumming around his fingers. He brings his thumb to your clit and in no time he pulls an orgasm from you. You arch your hips up against him as your cunt convulses around him. He pulls his fingers from you after you’ve ridden out your high and releases his cock that was pitching a tent in his flight suit. He slicks his length with your juices and pushes into your cunt immediately, desperate for the warm, familiar feeling again. This is the first time you’ve had him during the day. And the light from the window and balcony across the room bathes him in the warm sunny glow. You’re mesmerized by the sight of him above you, inside you and in his full armor. It’s new for him, too. Not only are you also bathed in the afternoon light but you’re also in a bigger bed this time. And it allows you to sprawl out so beautifully underneath him. He leans down, effectively folding you in half and drives his hips into you harder. With this new angle you’re at the brink of orgasm and after one last forceful thrust you’re coming undone around him. Your muscles contract and release in a symphony, cunt fluttering around his cock pulling his own orgasm from him. Thick ropes of cum paint your walls as he slows his pace before pulling out of you carefully. He lays down on the bed and pulls you into him, the cold beskar a nice contrast to your warm, sweaty face. After a while of catching your breath he says, “You should probably go get ready for dinner, cyar’ika.”

“I know,” you sigh.

He rises and puts his cock away, grabbing your hand and helping you up from the plush bed. You undress and get ready to step in the refresher, making it even harder for you to leave him.

“I’m going to go retrieve some stuff from the Crest, cyar’ika,” he sighs.

“Okay,” you say softly, “See you after dinner.”

He leaves and closes the door behind him. You get in the refresher and clean yourself up, already missing him. You change into one of the dresses you packed, off the shoulder and a silky blue color before a servant comes to pick you up for dinner. He leads you to a large dining room, again with large vaulted ceilings. The table is so big and you’re sitting so far apart it’s barely like eating together. You’re sitting across from Valsi and his mother is at one end of the table.

“You’ll have to forgive Valsi’s father. He got caught up with some business on Coruscant but he’ll be here soon,” she says.

You nod and eat together in silence before asking, “What about-”

But Valsi cuts you off, “The Mandalorian? The servants will bring him his own food to his room.”

You think about Din eating alone in his room and feel sad for him, wanting nothing more than to sit against the door and talk with him while you share a meal together. Valsi raises his eyebrow at your concern for him but drops it, going back to eating his food in silence. Eventually the three of you are finished and you excuse yourself to your room.

“Thank you so much for the tour and thank you for having me in your home,” you say to his mom, looking past Valsi.

“Of course, dear. Have a good night.”

And with that you rise from your chair and walk back to your room, anxious to see Din again. You spot a servant in the entryway of the house and ask, “Where is the Mandalorian’s room?” careful not to use his name.

“The same hallway as you, miss. But all the way at the end.”

You tell him thanks and start walking a little faster, climbing up the staircase and heading towards the hallway. You reach the end and knock on his door, but you get no response. You wait a little before knocking again… but nothing. Maybe he’s already asleep? Maybe he’s still in the Crest? You wait for a sign of his presence before retreating to your room, feeling a little defeated. You get ready for bed and change into your pajamas, slipping into the soft bed and wishing Din was here with you. 

You drift off to sleep but don’t stay asleep for long because you feel someone on the other side of the room. You hear the clink of metal and the sheets rustle as the person sneaks into bed with you. You turn over to see Din getting into bed with you silently. 

“Din! What if someone comes in?”

“I won’t stay the whole night… I just couldn’t sleep without you.”

You feel a sense of relief, for you too have grown used to the feeling of him against you every night.

“Okay,” you say softly, settling yourself in the crook of his neck, “Goodnight, Din.”

“Goodnight, cyar’ika.”

You wake up early in the morning with Din still at your side. He’s still sleeping so you pull yourself away (even though it’s hard) to watch the sunrise over the mountains and the lake. The sun peeks over the mountaintops cloaking everything in a warm, amber glow. You lean over the railing of the balcony, resting your elbows on it and placing your head in your hands, admiring the stillness of it all. No one telling you where to go, no Valsi dragging you by the arm, no father that doesn’t listen to you. Just you and your lover on a peaceful morning after just spending the night together. You hear Din get up and walk behind you, hooking his hands on your hips. It’s early enough that you don’t care about anyone seeing you together. You’re probably the only ones awake. He slides your sleep shorts down and you stand on your tiptoes for him. You feel the leather of his gloves trail up and your entrance before he pulls away to take them off. You hear the them hit the floor and he replaces his hand, bare this time. His fingers tease your core, playing with you until you whine for him, getting sick of the teasing. You stand on your tiptoes even higher, arching your ass against his groin. 

“Right here, cyar’ika? What if someone sees?”

“No one will… and if someone does, oh well,” you sigh. 

“That’s my girl,” he chuckles before plunging a finger into you. 

You moan at the sensation and arch your back more, desperate for more of his touch. He slips another finger in and works your walls, preparing you for his cock. Before you could cum he pulls them out of you, whining at the empty feeling. But before you could complain anymore you feel his cock push into you slowly. You sigh at the feeling of being full once again. He grips your hips and pulls you into him, hitting your g-spot with every thrust. Your soft and hushed moans surround you as you do your best to keep quiet. With one last slam of his hips you’re coming around him, gripping his cock like a vice. He erupts his load into you, filling you with the familiar feeling of his cum soaking your cunt once again. He pulls out of you and brings you up into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. The cold feeling of his chest plate presses against your back, slick with sweat from this morning’s activities. You stay there for a moment, holding each other and watching the rest of the sunrise. 

“Ni ka'tayli gar darasuum,” he says softly.

“Hmm?” you ask, still feeling blissed out.

“I love you, alor’ika. And I know that’s unfair to you because you’re engaged to someone else but… I can’t help how I feel.”

You turn and face him, gazing up into his visor and shocked that you just got a confession of love from him. But deep down… you feel the same way. And it hurts so bad because you know in a month you’ll be married to someone else.

“I love you, too, Din,” you say. 

He pulls you into him and strokes your back gently. You close your eyes and relax but you’re interrupted when you hear a knock on the door.

“Breakfast is in thirty minutes, miss,” you hear a servant say.

“Kriff, they’re probably going to your room next,” you say, pulling away and looking up at Din. 

“It’s okay, cyar’ika. I can just say I was sleeping before when they bring my food.”

You sigh and nod before going to get ready, changing into another dress. Din hugs you from behind one last time before returning to his room. You leave and walk to the dining room for breakfast to find Valsi and his mom sitting, talking about wedding preparations.

“Well, Valsi,” his mom sighs, “You’re already giving barely enough time to plan this wedding and now you want to move it up?” 

“Mhm. As soon as possible. Next week.”

She sighs again, “Fine, let me go alert the help of my son’s rash behavior.”

She gets up and leaves. You look at Valsi with a confused expression on your face.

“We’re moving up the wedding?”

“Mhm,” he says, rising from his chair and walking over to you. He looks down at you with a truly sinister look in his eye. 

“One of the servants alerted me of your little activity with the Mandalorian this morning. Can’t say I’m surprised. You two can’t keep your hands off each other.”

Your mouth falls open and a pit forms in your stomach. 

He continues speaking and grabs your chin, “So you can mess around with your little Mandalorian play thing for now. But once we’re married, you’re mine. Do I make myself clear?”

“Mhm.”

“Good. Don’t really want this getting out to the public, do you? Think of your father’s reputation once everyone finds out you’re cheating on another senator’s son with a Mandalorian of all people.”

He releases his grip on your chin. “Alright, go run to him and tell him the news. But later today you’re looking for a wedding dress,” he sighs, returning to his chair. 

You push out your chair and leave the dining room at once, tears forming in your eyes. You don’t stop until you reach Din’s room, knocking on the door and calling for him. You hear the hiss of the modulator through the door; he must’ve been eating. He opens the door and you collapse into him, letting the tears flow.

“What happened, cyar’ika?” he says, rubbing your back.

“Someone found out about us and told Valsi… he moved up the wedding to next week,” you sob. 

You feel him tense up against you. “I’m sorry, cyar’ika. I wish there was something I could do.”

“Take me away from here,” you say softly.

“I… can’t. I’m sorry, cyar’ika. They’re members of the Senate. They’ll have everyone in the galaxy after us.”

You sob even harder, feeling completely hopeless. Not even Din can save you from this. You pull away, just wanting to wallow in your sadness alone.

“I think… I need to be alone.”

“Cyar’ika-”

But you don’t listen. You turn on your heel and walk back to your room, collapsing into bed and letting your tears overtake you. You drift off to sleep but your nap is interrupted by a servant waking you up, telling you it’s time to go pick out your dress. 

You leave with the servant and Din, who says nothing to you. They take you into the city and drop you off at a dress shop with enough credits. They wait for you out front while you make your selections. You couldn’t care less about your wedding dress and what it looks like since the marriage is a sham anyway. You pick the first one you see, pay and leave. You meet Din and the servant outside, ready to be done with being in public so you can go back to your room and wallow in sadness. You return back to the mansion and make a beeline for your room, tossing your dress on the dresser before falling into bed. You cry yourself to sleep and miss dinner, waking up the next morning with puffy eyes and an upset stomach.

The next several days feel monotonous, an endless cycle of pretending to care about wedding preparations and crying in your room. Valsi’s father and your family arrive on Naboo a few days before the wedding. Surprisingly, your parents invite the few friends you had on Savareen before you moved away; the best thing to happen to you in days. You’re happy to see them again but you wish it was under different circumstances. Din still hangs around, checking in on you in your room occasionally but you still hold some animosity for him for not being willing to get you out of here. 

It’s the night before the wedding and you hear a soft knock on your door. You open to see Din and despite your disdain for him you let him in. He sits on the bed gingerly, seeming nervous. You fold your arms, getting ready to speak first. But surprisingly he does.

“I just wanted to see you one last time.”

You sigh. In all honesty you wanted this, too. 

“Me, too,” you admit, sitting down next to him and looking down at your hands. 

He reaches over and palms your thigh. You pull off your dress before laying down on the bed and opening your legs for him. The dim glow on the lamps reflects off his beskar as he moves to your underwear, hooking the fabric with his fingers and pulling it off. He brings his finger to your cunt, teasing you lightly, taking his time with you on your final night together. You whine at his delicate touch, aching for more. He pulls off his gloves and feels just how wet you are for him, wanting to hear you beg for him again. 

“Please, Din. I need you,” you moan. 

On command he slides his finger in, pumping it and out of you slowly. “Anything for you, cyar’ika.”

It’s been days since you last had him and you missed him so much. You writhe under his touch; just from one finger. He marvels at your body, the plush skin of your thighs and how you arch your back in pleasure. Aching for more he pushes another finger in and brings his thumb to your clit. He rubs small, quick circles around it and curls his fingers, pulling an orgasm from you in no time. You soak his hand down to his wrist as your cunt grips his fingers. He waits until you’re done riding out your high before removing them from you and pulling his cock out of his flight suit. He lubricates his length with your release and aligns himself with your entrance, taking your hand one last time as he enters you slowly. You gasp at the sensation of him filling you up completely, burying his cock into you balls deep and grazing your cervix. His hands move to your waist pulling you into him as he thrusts into you. Your moans fill the bedroom and you couldn’t care less about anyone hearing you right now. He looks down at you in complete adoration as you take him. Din feels his cock tense up and his balls tighten. He’s at the brink of orgasm but he wants you to cum with him. He slams his hips into you harder and faster, sending you over the edge. Your cunt flutters around, pulling every last drop of cum from him as he fucks you through your release. He slows and pulls out of you, laying on the bed next to you. You place yourself in the crook of his neck one last time, inhaling his scent and trying to memorize every last detail about him before you never see him again. 

“Yooba solus mesh’la,” he whispers. 

You sigh against him, never wanting this moment to end. But it’s getting late and you have to wake up early tomorrow. Reluctantly, you pull away from him and he gets up. You lead him to the door and give him one final hug. 

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, alor’ika,” he whispers against your hair.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back. 

After one final look at each other he leaves, returning to back his room. You put on your pajamas and crawl into bed, silently crying before you fall asleep. 

You wake up the next morning with puffy eyes and an ache in your heart. Din’s surely gone by now. What reason would he have to stick around for the wedding?

Servants knock on the door and tell you they’re here to help you get ready. You get up to let them in and they begin to work on your hair and makeup. You put on your dress and look in the mirror. You look beautiful but you don’t feel beautiful; getting ready to marry a man you don’t love while you’re full with the seed of another. 

The servants escort you down the stairs and you see your parents. They tell you how beautiful you look and how happy they are for you. You give them a faux smile, trying to fake any ounce of happiness you can muster.

Soon, it’s time for the ceremony and you look out into the garden from the house at all the guests. It has to be a large wedding of course, filled with some of the most important people in the New Republic. You see Valsi at the end of the aisle, looking annoyed like he’s just waiting for this to be over. You walk down the aisle with your father and start to feel sick to your stomach at all of the eyes on you. He hands you off to Valsi who takes your hand, a little too tight. The officiant begins reading the wedding passage and your ears start ringing. You don’t even listen to what he and Valsi are saying, missing your cues to speak several times. You can sense Valsi getting annoyed with you, his brow furrowing at you as you trip up on your vows again. Before you can finish you hear a loud, “Stop!”

You rip your gaze from Valsi to see Din standing in the aisle. He doesn’t even have to continue calling for you. You immediately run towards him and into his arms, ignoring the protests of Valsi and your family and the gasps from the guests. You hear Valsi call for the guards and Din draws his blaster. He places one hand on the small of your back and begins firing once the guards do. 

“Run, cyar’ika! To the docking yard!”

You turn and bolt. You hear Valsi shout, “Don’t let her get away!”

Din follows you, shooting his blaster at anyone chasing after you. Between the adrenaline rush of escaping and being fired at you push yourself harder, desperate to get away. You reach the docking yard and run straight to the Razor Crest. Din opens the exit ramp and ushers you inside, firing his blaster a few more times at the guards before following you inside. He closes the ramp behind him and rushes up the ladder and into the pilot seat, preparing the Crest for takeoff hastily. Not before long you’re taking off, staring at the beautiful planet beneath you but feeling so grateful to be leaving. Once you left the atmosphere Din jumps to lightspeed. He turns to you and grabs your hands. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt, cyar’ika?”

You shake your head no, still panting from the chase and replaying it in your head. 

“How are we going to do this, Din? They’re going to send everyone after us.”

“Don’t worry. I have a plan. We’re going to Nevarro where I have some people who’ve agreed to hide us. But there’s one thing… you have to become my riduur.”

“Your what?”

“My wife; my spouse.”

Without hesitation you tell him yes and he sighs in relief, worried that you didn’t want to escape one marriage by entering a new one. He lets go of your hands and brings them to the edge of his helmet. You immediately throw your hands over your eyes and ask, “What are you doing?!”

“Don’t you want to see the face of the man you’re marrying, cyar’ika?”

“...I can do that?”

“Yes, cyar’ika,” he chuckles but his heart swells at the idea of you agreeing to marry him without seeing his face; at your devotion to him. 

He pulls off the helmet and you hear the hiss of the modulator. You slowly remove your hands from your face and see Din, staring back at you. Brown, curly hair, a little matted from the helmet, a strong, prominent nose, two frown lines perched between his eyebrows, slightly patchy facial hair, and warm brown eyes scanning your face for any sign of approval. He’s beautiful; more beautiful than you ever could’ve imagined.

You crash your lips against his and entangle your hands in his hair, reveling in the feeling of his bare face pressed against yours. You break the kiss and rest your forehead against his. 

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“You don’t have to thank me, cyar’ika. I’d do anything for you… I love you.”

“I love you, too, Din,” you say, kissing him again. 

He rests his hand on the back of your neck, continuing the kiss until he pulls away to check the coordinates on the control panel. You can’t tear your eyes away from him, watching him in the blue glow from hyperspace. He turns his face towards you again and smiles, the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. That’s your man. 

[sharenadraculea]

Fem!Primarch Au Ideas

Lion El‘Jonson: Is sligthly better at social stuff. Which might just be that it‘s more socially more acceptable on Caliban for a unmarried woman to refuse to speak to men. Officially spends most of her time telling Luther what to say and letting him do the social things. Unofficially has a crossdressing knight-persona to go out and do stuff. It took E like three days to figure out that that knight and Lion are in fact the same person. Might keep the knight-persona even after beeing found. Also she had a habit of sending all suitors on impossible quests in Caliban‘s forests where they would painfully die.

Fulgrim: Chemos has little to no genders. Either you can work or you are dead, what‘s in your pants doesn‘t really matter. Anyways, then Fulgrim get‘s discovered, introduced to the concept of gender and is now very anxious about performing gender expectations correctly. It isn‘t working very well. Guess who might not actually be a woman

Perturabo: Kind of got attic-daugthered by Dammekos, because of course all of that were his ideas, not the ones of a little girl. Perty is not amused by this. She later is in possesion of at least half the warcrime‘s squad braincells (the warcrime squad is a found family thing Angron, Sang, Perty and Konrad have going on), provides all the artillery support for them and is the main Konrad-handler (after Fulgrim of course). I haven‘t yet decided how much they are kissing.

Jaghatai Khan: Something, something crossdressing. Might kiss Morty. That‘s all my notes so far.

Leman Russ: I‘m really not yet sure what to do with Leman, because I could just do some purely cosmetic changes and it would be fine enough. But also I could do some really drastic changes… for example if I remember correctly in viking culture (which is what I‘m going off for Leman) magic was seen as a womens thing so you know ice-witch Leman would be fun

Konrad Curze: Still wondering if gender is something you can eat. Mostly cosmetic changes, but they are a bit more mentally stable due to the support of the warcrime-squad. I‘m considering giving Konrad a decently bad case of has-the-voice-of-a-little-kid, because that would be pretty creepy.

Sanguinius: I‘m going with the „Sanguinus was a slave as a child“-headcanon I‘ve seen in multiple fics and really like. So Sang had some pretty dark stuff happen to her and overall ends up beeing much less nice and more angry, the vibe is „Vampire warlord collecting the heads of her enemies“ and I love it a lot.

Angron: Is still Angron, no big changes here except she and Sang are kind of a couple

Roboute Guilliman: Had to spend a significant of time arguing over beeing allowed into politics directly (instead of doing the proper thing of marrying some old guy, puppeting him from behind the scenes and cashing in on the inheritence). Also Konor is still alive in this au, since Rob happend to be in the senate that day and carrying a hidden sword for entierly non nefarious reasons.

Mortarion: So Calas Typhon‘s mother was drowned for having a child with a overlord (presumably not voluntarely). If people start to suspect something similar happend to Morty, it‘s gonna be very good that Primarchs are very hard to kill. Especially if people don‘t take „there never was a child“ for a answer for where the nonexistent kid is, and start spreading rumors that Morty killed or abandoned it.

And I don‘t yet really have much or anything at all for the rest, so Rogal Dorn, Ferrus Manus, Magnus, Horus, Lorgar, Vulkan, Corvus and Alpharius Omegon, but feel free to give me some ideas

[burntblueberrywaffles]

the desperate anidala bitches shall rejoice, because i come offering a second rec list 😌 /lh

My Anidala/Vaderdala rec list! (part 2)

You can find the first rec list here!

sorry I took so long this got buried way down in my drafts but it's finally out 🫡

some of these are not complete so do check chapter count and pls dont yell at me asdfhgkjfh

Modern AUs

The Bet

Anakin's had a crush on Padmé since fourth grade, and after putting up with his pining for seven years, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka are finally stepping in and making a bet that he can't ask her to junior prom in the spring. Meanwhile, Padmé is realizing that Anakin isn't as annoying as she'd always thought. In fact, her feelings towards him are starting to go in quite the opposite direction...

Snow Place Like Home

For genre-typical convoluted reasons involving ill-timed blizzards, Padmé is forced to spend the holidays at Anakin's house. Anakin isn't as upset about his boss staying with him for Christmas as he probably should be.

Second Chances

When Luke Amidala and Leia Skywalker meet at summer camp, they're shocked to discover that they're long-lost twins. The logical next step? Getting their estranged parents back together.

I usually avoid Parent traps AU just because I dislike it as a setup, but when it comes to Anidala a bitch is desperate, and this was a cute and fun one, I really enjoyed it!

Lemon

“What other secret fantasies do I have that are glaring neon signs for you?” Anakin asks. “You’re conflicted,” Padmé says, “because on one hand you want to be a very good boy for me, but on the other you want to misbehave so I have a reason to punish you.” He blows out a plume of smoke and taps the ash off his cigarette. “You know, I really thought you were a nerd. I thought I'd have to be like, ‘Hey, how about you tie me up sometime.' Get you into this stuff little by little. But no, you’re diving right in like we met on a BDSM subreddit or something.” Or: Padmé has car problems. Thankfully she knows a good mechanic.

normally, I probably never would have checked out this fic, (mommy kink is just not my thing) but as previously stated, A BITCH WAS DESPERATE and you know what it actually slapped 😌

Rebound

Padmé Naberrie has just been broken up with. She wasn't prepared for a night out with her girls to find her a rebound. She certainly wasn't prepared for Anakin Skywalker.

Sith-Raised Anakin

the inevitable end of dancing with the devil

"Maybe it was too crass to compare the devil to such a creature—Lord Vader wasn’t the devil, he was worse." Senator Amidala was undoubtedly one of the most respected and adored public servants to walk the galaxy. Lord Vader was not. Vaderdala AU. Arranged Marriage AU

A Worthy Sacrifice

Chancellor Palpatine has dropped the act and decided to rule the galaxy openly as Darth Sidious. His reign wouldn’t be half as successful without his unhinged attack dog Darth Vader, a much rumoured warbringer who appears in black robes with a saber red as blood and brings even the strongest revolutionaries to their knees. Padmé is not only fighting for her home country but the freedom of the known regions and she is desperate to turn the tides of this war which is why she agrees to the deal Sidious offers her: A child with this favourite Sith Lord in exchange for her home: Naboo.

This is one of my favourite fics with this trope!

Pearl in My Head

Padmé's just starting her career as a Senator when she attracts some unwanted attention from the Emperor, who has decided on a very different role for her in the Empire. [empire already exists, arranged marriage/forced proximity au! loosely follows some aotc/rots events]

What Was I Made For?

Darth Vader was not a man made for love, but this was not love. Or, Basically, Padme and Vader are friends with benefits, but she's so nice to him that it makes him question his entire existence.

FOR YOUR LOVE (i’ll do whatever you want)

𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰? 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰? 𝐢'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐢’𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 He gave her that devilish smirk of his. The one that had gotten her into this mess in the first place. “I’ll give you what you want.” OR, A rare moment of intimacy happens for Padmé and Anakin – whose relationship is strictly carnal.

I have yet to read the second chapter (will get on that when I get out of the snowbaird hole lol) but I really enjoyed the first one!

Vaderdala

love me, love me (like you used to do) 

In which Vader fails to capture his son, but gains a daughter, his wife, another pair of twins... and the past.

this fic was SO GOOD holy shit literally made me feral when i fiorst read it

Love Like Ghosts

There are very few people who know the location of the Rebel Alliance’s base on Naboo. Even fewer who know the names of any of the people who work there. So when Padmé gets up on a cold morning, the windows frosted and harsh wind rattling the doors of the large house that’s been the headquarters of the Alliance for nearly two decades, to see a package with her name on it sitting on the doorstep, her heart stops in her chest.

loved this fic but as a heads up it doesn't provide "they get back together" closure so be ready for that

news of old by @ineedausernamel829

Padme is a member of the rebel alliance. During a mission, her past relationships with darth Vader comes to light

No vaderdala interactions, but exploration of the relationship through Padme talking about it - It’s so so good

Sad Vaderdala hours

Imperial Socialite

In a timeline where Darth Vader doesn't face immolation and Padmé Amidala lives, their marriage continues in a form that is at once far more honest and deeply dysfunctional. Though Padmé tries to remain within the Imperial Senate, the trauma of her husband's betrayal--and the apparent deaths of her children--force her into early retirement. Too much of a liability to aid the emerging Rebel cause directly, Padmé seeks out new avenues of defying the Empire: by leveraging her connection to Vader to mess with the Imperial Elites of Coruscant.

it could be sweet

an interconnected collection of stories based on the idea of what would have happened if Padmé had lived. (aka me finally writing down my self-indulgent vaderdala daydreams aka me living my best life)

This series is so good in a "rip my heart out of my chest and steps on it" way

all joy sucked dry

Her husband had fallen, her life’s work had crumbled, and her own babies were strangers to her. But she didn’t even care, and that was the worst part. Or: Padme deals with postpartum depression, and Vader is ill-equipped to help her

Others

Across the Seas

Padmé Amidala - the daughter of the royal governor of Jamaica - never expected her life to be much more than it already was. Her routine is to dress in her finest clothes, put on a pretty face, and ensure she is presentable to not only the people but to the many men attempting to court her. However, Padmé's world is flipped around when pirates attack, and the young woman finds herself in the company of their fearsome, brash, (dashing) Captain. Initially sickened by the roughish man, Padmé will quickly learn there is so much more to the mysterious Captain Skywalker. A pirate's life for me

The pirate AU I didn’t know I needed. So good

Right & Wrong

After they watch a holoshow that portrays reprehensible content, Anakin unwittingly reveals the concerning way Chancellor Palpatine acts towards him. Padmé will not let anyone harm her husband — and she’ll make this Obi-Wan, the Jedi Council, and even the whole galaxy’s problem if she needs to.

when the grooming is actually adressed >>

cestrum nocturnum

Summer on Naboo, the Clone Wars have yet to begin, and Anakin is tasked with protecting Senator Amidala after an attempt is made on her life. It's too bad that every moment with her has him in agony, and every moment apart is even worse—especially after that night in the courtyard ... Or: Anakin spends a torturous time on Naboo in the company of the person he loves because he doesn't know how to tell her his true feelings.

Naboo smut 🤭

And that's it! if anyone has recommendations for a fic that isn't in either of my rec lists, please let me know! I am so so desperate I need my anidala fix

Since I was deep into the Star Wars hole and desperate, I’ve also been reading non-Anidala/non-Anidala centric fics about Darth Vader/Anakin/the Skywalker family, so I will be posting a rec list for that soon! (When i say soon it can mean anything from a day to months, my brain is not always great at tasks, if anyone wants to be notified when I do post it lmk and I’ll tag you ❤️)

[gffa]

I've been seeing a lot of people accusing the Jedi of being arrogant which led to their fall. Was this always the case or is this something new?

If you mean that there are accusations from fandom that the Jedi were arrogant which led to their fall? No, that's been going on for years and years. If you mean that you think that's what's being shown in new content (the Jedi's arrogance leading to their fall), well, hard disagree on that, because first of all I don't think anything can "lead to" a genocide, other than the people who commit it decide to do it. As for the question, "Were the Jedi arrogant?" I mean, a little? Jocasta was kind of full of herself about her archive (in an incredibly sweet way, she's so nice in AOTC!), Yoda points out that Obi-Wan's kind of too sure of himself in AOTC, the Jedi don't immediately magically know Qui-Gon is right about the Sith returning and it takes a little longer for things to get moving because of that, but like. You could make similar arguments about Bail or Padme, like Padme never tells anyone about the Tusken massacre, she's willing to let the Gungans fight for her but doesn't want to risk her own people going to war, she never brings up that the clones are people and instead of saying they should free them, instead she says to the Senate "buying clones is making us poor ):", she doesn't even give Teckla a raise despite that she's in poverty on Naboo, she breaks the laws when her friends are in danger because she's angry enough to want to just about shoot someone, she's willing to run away with Anakin even after he killed more children, etc. These things are not meant to vilify her or say "Well, she deserved what she got, she lead to her own death because she just kept quiet about all those baby murders!" They're normal flaws for a good-hearted character or they're things that the narrative never really intended, because the point of the story was something else or they're about telling the broad strokes of an arc, etc. In that sense, yeah, the Jedi might be a little full of themselves sometimes, a little too self-sure (and let's be clear: Qui-Gon was the WORST OF THEM and I say that with love, because it makes me love him more, let him be a real character who was a good man but got his own desires in the way of what might have been a more gentle tack), but if we're tarring and feathering them for it, well, we better stock up on supplies, because literally EVERYONE in Star Wars has something we can put ALL OF THEM in the stocks and throw rotten fruit at them.

[cosmicobubisi]

Cosmic's Malleyuu Whump vs Flufftober: Day 22

BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES tourniquet | reopening wounds | "oh, that's not good" / Heirloom

Yuu watched Malleus's hand shake, as an ashy pallor overtook his face.

It was remarkable to see such a thing happen- not just the unraveling of a high-and-mighty prince, but the drastic desaturation of an already very pale man.

His pupils had shrank to minuscule pips drowning in an ocean of bright green, the outline of his knuckles visible in his leather gloves as he tightened his hands.

Yuu stared at him for a bit, a slow, steady smile spreading across their face as Ace and Deuce slumbered deeply in the chairs next to their bed.

They stared at each other for a bit, Malleus frozen to the floor.

Yuu kind of expected him to come to them. They were the ones practically chained to the medical bed.

"H-hello," said Malleus finally. "How... how you feeling?"

"Better than before, I suppose," they said, unable to stop one of the corners of their mouth from lifting in a slight tease.

They tried to stamp down the little voice that wanted them to poke fun at him. There was something sickeningly thrilling, to not only know that they had so much power over a powerful man, but that it was currently on such display.

"That is not saying much," said Malleus, glancing off to the side.

"Yeah," they replied, a bit hoarse with the memories. "I know."

He stepped forward then, plucking the pitcher and a glass off their nightstand, which he quickly filled with water. He summoned a straw out of thin air and placed it in the glass, which he quickly offered to Yuu's lips.

They drank gratefully, appreciating the gesture more than the water but relishing the refreshening of their mouth.

As nice as it was to have Malleus here, seemingly at their mercy, Yuu wondered what he was actually here for. Ace and Deuce had already made their impassioned apologies for getting them into the precarious situation that had caused Yuu to become so injured.

It was Malleus, in the end, who had taken the charge on Yuu's necessary medical attention. Under the direction of Ace, he elevated their arm, applied pressure to the wound, and even tied a tourniquet to their arm when the situation became worse until help arrived.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked, setting the mostly-empty glass down on the nightstand.

"Not really," they replied, "except for maybe some company. Unless you have something else to do."

With a flash of magic, Malleus was sitting next to Yuu in his own chair, spine straightened and shoulders stiff as he folded his hands in his lap.

"What would you lie to discuss?" he asked, primed for a conversation.

Yuu giggled. So eager.

"I dunno. You start. Anything you want."

Malleus's head ducked. "I hadn't realized how helpless I was without my magic."

This sounded like it was gonna be a very roundabout apology.

"Don't be like that," they cut in. "First aid is tricky, and it was a tough situation."

"Still," he said regretfully. "This experience has identified large gaps in my knowledge. I must endeavor to fill them expediently, so that I can be a good ruler."

Yuu shook his head. "We could all use a first aid refresher anyway."

"It would have been impractical to expect for you to perform first aid on yourself."

"Can we talk about something else, please?" insisted Yuu.

Malleus shook his head. "Of course. I would not expect you to relive traumatic memories for my sake. Can I... perhaps interest you in a story from my homeland?"

Yuu smiled and nodded. This sounded like it was going to be a lot more entertaining.

"Well... ah, yes," said Malleus, before clearing his throat. "When my mother was young, and still courting my father, he desired to propose to her in private, to seek her consent before he asked the Senate and my grandmother for permission. But he had few means, and so instead of purchasing something, he decided to make her something."

"Aww," cooed Yuu.

"He ventured out into the forest to find fibers in which to weave together, and eventually settled on making a ring made of wood, with the centerpiece being a flower."

"Oh!" said Yuu, trying to picture the ring in their mind.

"However, once he plucked the flower he wanted, a flaower fairy appeared, and scolded him for taking her spare dress. He apologized, and gave her his hankerchief so she could make another, as by plucking it, my father had spoiled the flower."

"Oh," sighed Yuu.

"Of course, this meant the flower would not last for the ring. He asked for help, and so she instead told him to take the flower-dress and press it, and return to her when it was done. He did so, returning two days later to ensure the flower was properly pressed, and she rearranged the flower into a beautiful arrangement for the ring, and he thanked her. However, before he left, she had a request."

"Oh?" inquired Yuu.

"She asked for an invitation to the wedding, and, seeing that as a good sign, he agreed. A few weeks later, he would invite her on a date in the solarium to propose, but as fate would have it, she proposed before he could."

"Oh." Yuu gasped at the turn the story had taken.

"She, of course, gave him her permission to formally ask for her hand, and they exchanged rings. They got more official, ornate rings for their wedding day, and wore both on their fingers together. My mother, of course, was buried with her wedding ring, but the one she gave to my father for their pre-engagement was lost to time."

"Oh..." trailed off Yuu, blindsided by the tragic end, though they knew about Malleus's parents ultimate fate.

"The ring he made her was removed by my grandmother, and she is saving it for me to propose one day. It's quite beautiful, and the tiny stitches are still intact. I would hope that it would serve as my mother's approval of my future spouse, even beyond the grave."

"Oh!" exclaimed Yuu, unable to restrain themselves at the swell of emotion that rose within them.

"Anyways, I hope that has lifted your spirits somewhat."

Yuu nodded enthusiastically. "It did, it really did! That's so romantic!"

Malleus smiled. "I am glad, to have provided you even a temporary relief."

Yuu huffed and pushed themselves up. "Come here, and give me a hug. When I say I'm fine, I'm fine."

"But-" Malleus was cut off as Yuu yanked them into a hug, and he eventually melted into it."

"Ow!"

Malleus immediately pulled himself away to see red spread through their white bandages.

"Oh," he uttered airily, "oh no, no, no, that is not good."

"U-uh," stuttered Yuu, because they had realized that was kind of a bad idea, "maybe-"

But Malleus had already vanished and returned with a dazed-looking doctor, shoving them towards Yuu's bed.

[split-spectrum]

Water and Rock

Chapter 17 - Finale

Pairings: Obi Wan/FemReader

Warnings/Tags: Angst, Major Character Death, Mild Violence

Description: There are only so many excuses a master and padawan can make to kiss under "extenuating circumstances" before circumstances stop arising and start being created. You are an expert at your craft - a Jedi knight in service as a spy for the Republic. When your former master Obi Wan joins you on a mission, it's clear things aren't the same as they once were. The trials you face together may break your bond, or turn it into something else entirely.

A/N: The previous chapter was posted yesterday, so this is it - the final part and epilogue rolled into one. I hope it isn't a let-down after all this time!

Special thanks to everyone who has sent me nice messages, comments, etc. It means the world. It feels great to mark this story complete, and I can't say enough thanks to those of you who have been reading along with each of the updates. Your comments really did help me reach the finish. <3

☆☆☆

Obi Wan takes a breath, letting the Force send out the words calmly and clearly from within him as he steps into the most powerful room in the galaxy.

"Chancellor Palpatine, In the name of the Galactic Senate of the Republic, you are under arrest."

Anakin stands at his side, silent.

"Are you threatening me, Master Jedi?" Palpatine responds, lacking the proper measure of shock or fear that should be present in his voice.

Obi Wan keeps his eyes steadily on the man before him. "The senate will decide your fate."

A lightsaber emerges from Palpatine's sleeve, and he feels Anakin tense beside him. The wisened man before them lifts his eyebrows mildly. "It's treason, then."

A red blade bursts forth.

With a speed and accuracy that defies logic, Palpatine launches himself across the room at Obi Wan, who meets the attack with equal ferocity. Knocking his blade wide, Obi Wan feels his teeth rattle from the power of the blow.

Despite the strength behind his strike, Palpatine sends a worried glance at Anakin afterward. He backs off, leaving an opening for Obi Wan to parry.

"Anakin!" he cries out, swiftly and easily dodging Obi Wan's attack. "I told you it would come to this!"

Obi Wan can't stop to look behind himself; can't measure Anakin's reaction. He needs to stay focused, allowing the Force to guide his movements. "Don't speak to him. Your fight is with me."

Palpatine ignores the words, meeting his strikes backhanded and allowing himself to be pressed into a corner, sidling along the long stretch of the window. "The Jedi are taking over!"

"Be silent, Sith." Obi Wan allows himself a fleeting spark of anger, spitting the word at the man responsible for his own master's death. He quickly recollects himself, circling around the chancellor and saying his next words more slowly and clearly. "The oppression of your rule will never return. You have lost."

A flash of hateful, yellow glee oozes from Palpatine's eyes. "No," he says simply, as Obi Wan presses in. "No. No, you will die!"

"Obi Wan!" Anakin cries out at last, lunging for Palpatine just as lightning rockets from the tips of his fingers, sending Obi Wan sprawling across the room. He'd managed to catch the brunt of the blast with his lightsaber, but it was too powerful for him to contain.

He groans against the pain as he stands up, Anakin holding his lightsaber between them, mouth clenched hard and eyes full of fear. "I will not let you kill him."

"Anakin," Palpatine moans, skin scorched from the energy Obi Wan had managed to redirect back at him. "He came here to kill me. Without me, Padmé will die. You must choose."

"Don't listen to him, Anakin," Obi Wan says, frightened by the emotion he sees in Anakin's stare. There should be no doubt behind his eyes, and yet it's all he sees. "He's a traitor."

"I have the power to save the one you love," Palpatine insists, pressing himself helplessly against the window.

Obi Wan's lip curls. "I am going to end this, once and for all."

He swings his blade, only to find it crossed in a shower of blue sparks.

"Anakin, what are you doing?"

When he turns to face him directly, Obi Wan can now see the desperation in his friend's gaze. "He must stand trial."

"He's too dangerous to be left alive."

"I need him."

"Do you truly believe that he will help you?"

A brief flash of uncertainty crosses Anakin's face. Then it's replaced with anger. "Do you truly believe the Jedi seizing power will bring peace?"

Obi Wan hesitates.

"Without a trial, it would be chaos. If you want to save Democracy, he must live!"

Obi Wan clenches his fist around the hilt of his lightsaber, willing the Force to show him the way. But at every turn, all he can see is darkness.

--

"This is what you have prepared for."

The voice is steady, calm. And yet it stokes the fire in your chest even higher.

The deflectors on your ship scream through your hot landing in front of the executive building. Leaping out of the bay doors before the engine cooldown procedure has even begun, you scramble up the stairs to reach the chancellor's office before it's too late.

"You are a conduit of the Force. Let it work through you. Let your feelings guide you."

The disembodied voice accompanies you in the repulsorlift ride to the building's top floor.

"Be quiet" you wish you could tell him. You need to focus. But you know it would be dangerous to push him away this close to the critical moment.

In the rushing stream of your mind, you can hear faint echoes of laughter. You squeeze your eyes shut, then blink them back open when the doors slide apart.

Outside the chancellor's suite, you come to a careful stop. Inside, there is shouting.

For just a moment, you hesitate.

Are you making the right choice?

Maybe you're not as strong as you think you are. Your connection to the Force is more powerful than ever. But maybe you're still as weak as you've always been.

"I have shown you what will become of your master if you choose to do nothing" whispers the voice. "Before you stands the man responsible for all of it. I have foretold this Sith lord's coming, and the pain and suffering he will cause. Fulfill your destiny and bring his defeat."

"If you want to save democracy, he must live!"

You hear Anakin's voice, hoarse and pleading. You cross the threshold, drawn to it. You pull the Force tight around you, like armor. It surges through your veins like a drug.

"You don't believe that," Obi Wan answers, quieter and sharper. "This isn't about democracy. This is about Padmé. This is about your child."

Anakin looks like he's been slapped. "How do you-"

"See how the Jedi lie to you, Anakin," Palpatine crows. "He has known of your secret long before I have. And yet he does nothing to help. Because he cannot help. Only through me can you gain the power to save her."

"He is deceiving you, Anakin. Listen to me- Ahh!"

His entreaty is cut short by a snaking blast of electricity. He falls, gasping, to the floor while Anakin stands motionless.

Too late, he seems to regain his sense long enough to shout, "Stop! Don't hurt him!"

Palpatine's hands lower, the attack ceasing just as you run in front of them. He turns to Anakin while you fall to your knees.

"Obi Wan!"

At the sight of you, his eyes fill with frustration and sadness. "I told you not to come here."

"I told you that I can help."

"Do you see, now?" Palpatine asks, while Anakin stares in surprise at your presence. "The Jedi have planned this. They've come to kill me. You must help me."

"We didn't plan anything," you argue, helping Obi Wan to his feet. "He's the traitor. He's a Sith lord!"

"How do you know that?" Anakin asks, his red-rimmed gaze turning on you.

"We... we've been spying on him for some time," you admit. "It's only now that we've heard the truth."

Obi Wan says your name, low, beneath his breath.

"He's been lying about everything - working to undermine the Jedi all along," you go on, trying to convince Anakin to see the obvious truth. Yet his eyes are fixed on Obi Wan, as if he can't even hear you.

"How..." he asks, forming the word slowly, "...did you know about Padmé? About our child?"

There's an eternity of silence.

You hear the creak of stiff leather bending as Anakin's glove flexes around his mechanical fist.

"You weren't just spying on the chancellor, were you?"

Obi Wan's hand goes out, palm open. "Anakin, I-"

Blue lightning arcs across the room once again, crackling so loudly that Palpatine has to shout to be heard over it. "He admits his betrayal! Kill him! Do it, now!"

"No!" Obi Wan grimaces, his lightsaber catching the flashing strike this time before it can reach his body. His jaw juts forward as he presses hard into the Force, every ounce of his strength keeping the bolt from overwhelming him. If he slips, it will mean death.

There is no more time for reason. There is no more room for Anakin's feelings, or the fate of the Republic, or right, or wrong, or restraint or control.

You let the Force tear through you, the very molecules around you bending to let you pass quicker, warping to allow your hand to find your saber, your saber to find the truest path through the air, and your blade to find the neck of the Sith lord, closing the distance before the blink of an eye.

When Palpatine sends his own waves rippling through the Force, blasting you backward and bringing the fiery edge of his weapon crashing over you, it feels... good.

The most powerful being in the galaxy. And you are meeting him, blow for blow.

You parry, dodge, and whirl as he grunts with the effort of his attacks. Your arms burn, every muscle straining to keep up with the energy racing through you.

When Anakin realizes what's happening, he leaps in your direction, only to be held back by Obi Wan's arm. "Anakin, no!"

"She's going to kill him!"

Palpatine growls, lifting one hand from his saber and using it to drive a fork of energy deep into your body, wracking every muscle until you slam backward against the wall, then stabs at you, boxing you in, controlling your every response.

You can keep up, but just barely. And Obi Wan sees that. He leaps to your aid, only bringing a moment's distraction when Palpatine shocks him to his knees.

You try to gasp his name, but you can hardly breathe, sweat stinging your eyes, teeth gritted in effort. You can't win, you realize. Not like this, anyway. You're managing to stay alive, but not for long.

There has to be a way. You call out to the Force, to the stars, to whatever it will take to win this fight.

And you get an answer.

"You are still holding on. You must open yourself to the true nature of the Force. Let your passion guide you. Let go of all you have been taught and feel what must be done."

Shutting out the battle, letting your body do the work of crossing and uncrossing blades while you look deep inside yourself, you finally see it: You've never been the greatest warrior. It's the mind of your enemy that you know best. That is where your greatest strength lies.

You can sense Palpatine's mind beside your own. You feel his darkness, all the way to its greatest depth. You hear his thoughts, his desires, and even his fears. You begin to move through them, peeling back the layers of his thoughts and wrapping them around your hands like string, winding and winding as you work your way to the core of his being. And when you are deep enough, you begin to tear them apart.

As you slowly feel the strength and speed behind Palpatine's attacks diminish, you hear nothing but the rush of blood, energy, and power. Eventually, his attacks stop altogether, and you're able to concentrate fully on bending his mind to the point of breaking. Palpatine's face contorts as you feel his mind rending from his body, like a form of suffocation. His gaze is blank, looking more shocked than pained. But there is pain. He's overflowing with it.

You stare at him as you watch the sprawling, innumerable folds of his psyche collapse in on themselves, burning to nothing under the weight of your power. As he struggles against you, it's hard not to let up. It hurts, boiling a person's mind under the pressure of your own. His presence in the Force is so great that you can practically see his aura filling the air as it drains away.

When you finally bring your concentration back to the room in which you're standing, it dawns on you that he's been screaming. It only occurs to you when the noises come to an end. His limp body crumples to the floor, and you bring your gaze back to your fellow Jedi.

Anakin's eyes are solely on Obi Wan, who's standing as a barrier between you. They've been fighting. Blood trails from your master's nose and lip. He wipes it with one hand, holding his lightsaber aloft in the other, watching Anakin's movements.

"Anakin, it's done!" You call out, your voice sounding strange and far away as you try to get his attention. "It's over. Palpatine is dead."

But when Anakin looks away from Obi Wan, it's not at you. It's at the body on the floor. He's silent, eyes wide and chest heaving with every breath.

"I don't..." His voice comes out broken, and he doesn't finish the thought. Your heart aches for him, despite your immense relief. You don't know what he will be, after this.

"I have shown you what he will be."

You look around, as if to find the source of the voice, though you know you won't.

"Your job is not yet finished."

"What-"

Before you can speak, you see flashes of images. You've seen them before, but this time, the details are clear.

The person fighting your master. The one surrounded by light and flame. The image of the hand around Obi Wan's throat is suddenly clear. It belongs to Anakin.

You look at him, and within his expression you see the fire, the lava, the seething hatred. Of course, it's Anakin.

"There is one last problem to be dealt with. Your master will never be safe, as long as he lives."

"I won't let you hurt him," you say out loud. How could you not have seen it before? Anakin has fallen. As soon as he made his commitment to Padmé, he was against the Jedi. Against everything Obi Wan stood for.

"I'm alright," Obi Wan says, arm going up in a gesture to calm you, his eyes shifting to you briefly while his body stays firmly set toward Anakin. "It's alright."

"You shouldn't have killed him," Anakin grinds out, staring darkly at you. Tears are beginning to well in his eyes as he seems to fully register what you've done.

"You made the wrong choice," you answer, unafraid of the malice in his voice. "And I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Anakin... but you can't be allowed to live, either."

Obi Wan suddenly turns to you. "What are you-"

You're already rushing past him, hand outstretched to form an invisible clenched fist around Anakin's throat. This time it will be easier. You weren't prepared for some of the ways Palpatine's mind struggled against yours, but as Anakin pushes back, you know exactly where to meet him.

You let the Force completely consume you, pushing your focus away from Anakin and any feelings of doubt. You acknowledge that what you're doing is terrible, in the same way that you acknowledge the weather; it is a fact. It can't be helped.

The alternative is unacceptable.

You begin to press into Anakin's mind, but this time, something is different. You were wrong - this isn't easier. It's more difficult. You're suddenly straining to keep the upper hand. Probably because he knows what to expect. Palpatine hadn't anticipated your sudden overwhelming power. Anakin has seen what you're capable of, and he's ready to fight.

You can feel him using the Force to hold back your hand, and you waver, arm shaking with effort. You grit your teeth, breaking through his mental barriers and feeling the anger beneath.

"I... I see what you are," you pant, dropping the deactivated hilt of your lightsaber on the floor to use both hands to try to choke him at a distance.

"Stop this!" Obi Wan's voice cuts through the cacophony in your mind. "Let him go!"

"You have to trust me," you answer, too short of words to give a proper response. "He's turned to the dark side."

"He made a mistake!"

His distraction is allowing Anakin the opening he needs to fight you, and you can see his hand go for his lightsaber. He's building up the strength to lunge at you. You need to end this.

Obi Wan yells your name, deep in his chest. You hear the anger behind it; the despair. But you can't care about that right now.

"Let him go!"

You ignore him, Anakin starting to slip free of your grasp. Behind you, you can sense Obi Wan swinging his arms up, ready to bring the durasteel hilt of his lightsaber to the back of your head.

It hurts you, to send shooting sparks of pain through the Force and into his mind, but you have no other choice. He doesn't know what he's doing.

He gasps your name, still trying to fight back. "Please-"

You twist your wrist to snap your lightsaber back up from the floor, readying yourself for Anakin's attack. You have to keep him from physically fighting you long enough to break his mind. Either he will die by your hand, or he'll kill you. But as long as you're breathing, you won't let him go.

"Do not do this, I beg you!"

Anakin's neck begins to strain under the pressure of your grip as he writhes against you. He's going to overpower you. Through his thoughts, you can feel him turning his saber, getting it ready. He's pushing back, wrenching you out. You tighten the vice in his head and Anakin cries out sharply, even as the power feels like it's draining from you faster by the second.

You press harder, harder, harder...

Suddenly, a burst of light erupts from the center of your chest, hot and clean and absolute.

It stays there as Anakin stumbles forward, dropped from your hold. For a moment, it doesn't register that the light isn't red. Your mind allows you the mercy of ignorance, imagining that Palpatine must have somehow taken you by surprise. But the thought dissipates as quickly as it had appeared.

Because Palpatine is dead.

And the light is blue.

And the universe stops.

As the blade slides back, you fall to your knees, collapsing back into Obi Wan's arms and looking up into the face of your killer. His blue eyes are wide.

You look into them, searching for an answer.

But all you see is pain.

You're so stunned you can't even speak, silently falling to the floor as he eases you down. How could he do this? Why? After everything...

You hear sudden laughter filling the air around you, and the pain of your injury starts to fade into the background. No, that's not quite right - the pain is still there, but you're... leaving it behind.

You feel yourself floating outside your own body, staring at the man who calls himself brother as he shakes his head, spreading his arms in celebration. The world suddenly goes dim.

"Oh, beautiful. Truly, beautiful."

He's here with you, and yet he's not. You're surrounded by nothingness, but still you can see, or perhaps sense, reality.

"To be put down like an animal by the hand of your own master?" Laughter ripples from him again, as time stands still around you. "You have done your duty more perfectly than I had ever dreamed."

You can't bring yourself to respond to him. You just silently gaze at yourself, held in Obi Wan's arms, too numb to say anything.

It was always meant to end like this." He glances down. "Well, not quite like this. This was... unexpectedly amusing."

Your silence is finally broken as impotent rage sears through you. "You... you never meant to help either of us. You wanted us both dead all along."

He gives a derisive shake of his head. "You are looking too closely. You can't see the broader picture. Shall I tell you, before you die, what your part was, in all of this?"

You leave him an indignant silence. It's clear that he has every intention of telling you, no matter what you say. It's why time has stopped - for him to gloat. For you to suffer.

"I have known you for much longer than you realize, my pet."

You seethe, but say nothing in return. Your head is still spinning, still trying to catch up.

"I first came to you as a youngling, as you were brought to the Jedi temple. There were many younglings to choose from, but your strength in the Force surpassed all the others. I believed Kenobi would certainly take you on, but he chose no one, and you were taken by another."

You want to argue - to correct him. You didn't surpass anyone. You've always had a weak connection; unsteady, unsure.

"I was forced to suppress your strength, so that you could not advance. With each new master, I further imbalanced your physical connection to the Force until there was almost nothing left. By the time you were finally placed with the right master, you were lacking in every aspect of the Force except mental."

You feel weak. It can't be true. Your entire existence, shaped by this sadistic creature?

"But... why? What for?"

He looks pleased that you've asked. "To protect my own apprentice. The Chosen One: Anakin Skywalker."

He pauses as you look at him in shock and dread.

Then he shakes his head, looking irritated as he goes on. "But chosen by whom? Soon enough, he would be chosen by a narrow-minded Sith lord who would bring about his own apprentice's downfall. Anakin Skywalker could be the greatest force of darkness to ever exist. His empire would reign for generations, and no longer would I be relegated to the meager corners of the galaxy. But I foresaw the future that awaited him. Would you like to know what you have prevented?"

Fear pulls at you. It would probably ease your spirit not to know. But you can't look away. You can't give yourself that undeserved mercy. He reaches out to touch you, and the knowledge pours in.

"I will do what I must." ... "You will try." ... "You were the chosen one! It was said that you would bring balance to the Force. Not leave it in darkness!" ... "It seems, in your anger, you killed her." ... "I was once a Jedi Knight, the same as your father." ...

"I am a Jedi. Like my father before me."

You see it all play out in what feels like years, and only an instant. The duel on Mustafar. Anakin's great loss. His son. Palpatine controlling every aspect of his life until Obi Wan's eventual triumph through Luke. Freedom, and death.

The galaxy would have been saved, had you not killed Palpatine before his time. Now, the brother's vision for the future is set in stone.

"So you see, my child, what needed to be done was clear: Skywalker's defeat on Mustafar must never happen, and Palpatine must die. You were chosen for this purpose, and you accomplished more than I'd ever imagined."

You try to speak a full sentence, but your voice is lost. All you can manage is, "How...?"

He gives a delighted smirk. "It was quite simple, really. I could never have convinced Kenobi to stay on Coruscant rather than pursue his pointless war on Utapau, eventually leading to Mustafar. He is too cunning for tricks, too devoted to his duty to give way to fear. But, if his trusted padawan were to beg him not to go..."

The horror of what you've done washes over you.

"There would be no fooling Kenobi through his mind. His heart was another matter."

His words seep into you, turning your insides. Your relationship - everything you'd done together; everything you'd experienced, has all been a lie. You're nothing more than a tool. A weapon. You were manufactured, and so were your feelings. All a product of your hidden purpose.

You look down at your own shocked expression as your body lays dying in Obi Wan's arms. It can't be. It just can't be.

Eventually, you look back up, needing to have all the answers, whether they're true or not.

"And... what about Palpatine? How did you know I could win?"

He smiles again. "I have told you, my child - the Force has always been strong with you. Can you imagine what an entire lifetime of struggling against my suppression has done for you? You were trained by Kenobi in spite of your limitations. Without them, you were nearly a match for Palpatine's strength. Not to mention, you had my assistance." He quirks a brow. "It was not difficult for me to hide your true power from him until it was too late."

You stare back at the scene in front of you - at Anakin's crumpled form. "And Anakin?"

"I needed only to fool you into fighting him, then bring you back under my thumb long enough for him to end your life. Kenobi would soon follow, too distraught to be a match for him, and Anakin would finally take his rightful place in the seat of power."

He turns to look where your gaze is trained. "However, this development has advantages as well. Perhaps he's outsmarted even me, in siding with Skywalker. In betraying you, your master has saved himself." His voice takes on a satisfied quality, becoming even more condescending as he looks back at you. "So you see, we all got what we wanted, in the end."

As you stare into the souless depths of his burning eyes, a thought emerges. You suddenly realize: He does not have the power that you thought he did.

He is not all-knowing. And it hasn't all been fabricated - not all of it.

Because he doesn't know Obi Wan.

And the tiniest spark of hope flickers back to life.

"Except that's... not true," you tell him.

"In what way?" he asks, unperturbed. He seems almost bored that you're still talking.

No matter what he has planned next to complete Anakin's fall to the dark side, it doesn't matter. As long as Obi Wan lives, so will the light. Palpatine wasn't his greatest enemy. And if he believed that, then his entire plan was flawed from the start.

But you don't tell him that. There's only one mistake that you're willing to share with him. Because it isn't over. Not yet. Not until you take your last breath.

You stare hard into the face of the being who has made you into an instrument for evil, corruption and death. "You said that my master betrayed me. But that isn't true. I see that now."

He huffs a laugh as time begins to crawl to a slow start again, your consciousness pulling back to your dying body. "You can frame it however you like. It's over now."

A sad, yet certain smile comes out as you freely tell the truth to a being who doesn't care to hear it.

"You think Obi Wan betrayed me to save himself?"

He gives a disinterested shrug. "Perhaps not himself, but Anakin certainly."

"He didn't betray anyone. I betrayed myself. He did exactly what I should have done. What he had the strength to do, and I never did."

He isn't listening anymore, and you can hear your own voice fading. But it's alright. You aren't speaking to him anymore.

"He let me go."

As all the pain of a mortal body envelops you again, you find yourself glowing with a light soul and a new mission. The shroud that has followed you your entire life is gone, and it wasn't until your death that you could finally see things clearly.

Obi Wan is silently kissing your forehead as he cradles your limp form, eyes shining bright with unshed tears.

You smile, lifting a hand to place it at his cheek. "Obi Wan, don't worry. I'm okay."

He chokes out your name, stunned and questioning. He can recognize the difference immediately. You've been so far beyond yourself that he can't believe you've come back.

You want to tell him all of it. You want to apologize until the last of your strength leaves you. You want to lie here in his arms, just feeling his warmth for the last moments you have together. But that isn't what needs to be done.

"Please," you manage. "I need to get to Palpatine."

He looks down at you in confusion, and you glance up at Anakin, who's still on his knees where you left him. He stares at you with a mix of anger, distrust, and pity. You try again. "Please, help me. I have to save him."

Obi Wan hesitates, looking behind you, then back at your face. "I don't understand," he murmurs tight in his throat. "Why?"

"There's..." You wince as you try to speak. "...no time. Please."

Gently pulling away, Obi Wan does as you ask, while Anakin watches with uncertainty. He helps you struggle to move a few feet across the floor until you're kneeling over Palpatine's body.

You place a hand on his chest and concentrate all your will on him. You know what it is to have the Force fill you completely, and you hang onto that feeling, allowing it to flow through you without holding anything back.

One advantage of being trained in all the Jedi arts, despite not being  in any of them: You know how to heal. And at your full potential, you're able to pull someone back from the brink of death.

Slowly, all three of you watch as Palpatine's chest starts to rise and fall again, taking shallow breaths. You pour everything you have into it, letting the last of your life drain away into this Sith lord who represents everything you hate; everything you stand against.

But you're no longer filled with hatred, or fear. You no longer have apprehensions about allowing Obi Wan to face whatever comes next. You realize now that any control you thought you had was an illusion. And more importantly, you realize the depth of your betrayal in putting your master's life before the lives he fought to protect.

When you can feel Palpatine's life force stabilize, you reach out and touch the most critical part - his mind. It is intact, but barely. He will never recover what you have destroyed. You can feel him rising back to consciousness, confused, lost and grasping for direction.

You let go of his mind, collapsing again to the floor as you reach the end of your strength. Obi Wan catches you, holding you gently, his hand behind your head. He gazes down at you. "I don't understand. Why have you done this?"

You give him a smile, the warmest one you can manage. You try to find the words, and eventually settle on, "Anakin was right. He must live."

He's silent, looking up and down your body as if there was something he could do. But he isn't a healer. And you're too gravely wounded, anyway. His eyes fix on the hole in your chest, then he blinks and looks away, pulling you closer in his arms. "I'm sorry. If there had been any other way..."

He fades off as you use the exhausted muscles in your neck to slowly shake your head. "There was no other way."

He looks as if you've pierced his heart by saying it, absolving him at the same time as he condemns himself. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes tightly shut. "I have failed you. This... darkness within you... I never realized..."

You wish you could wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into the warmth of your body, but you're too weak to move, and the room is growing dim. Instead, you speak so softly you can hardly hear yourself.

"I wish there was more time. Wish I could tell you... how wrong you are."

He pulls back to look into your eyes, head leaning to the side, face pinched with anguish. He shakes his head, whispering, "No."

You don't know if he's not allowing you to forgive him, or fighting with the reality of your death as it closes in, but you need to tell him. You need him to understand.

Soft, fuzzy blackness spreads from the corners of your vision. You push through it, willing your mouth to form the words as his hand clutches yours.

"All my life has been darkness, Obi Wan. And... and I never knew why. But because of you... the light never left me."

--

Epilogue...

It's quiet, for a time. And then, everything is so, so loud.

You can hear it, feel it, see it all. The entire universe is humming through you. You blink into the light.

And you realize, you have eyes.

That shouldn't be.

You are a part of the living Force. You shouldn't be able to feel, or move, or think.

You look down, and you see your own arms, your own legs. You feel different, but the same. You are still yourself. But you are whole. You feel a peace you've never felt before. And then you hear a voice.

"Well done, young one."

He's sort of shimmering, like a mirage or a vision. But he's most certainly real.

"Master Qui Gon?"

Standing in his robes, just as you remember him from every holo you'd seen, he gives you a muted smile. "Welcome."

You look around, still surprised at your ability to look at anything. It's as if there's a film between reality and where you are now. You can see everything, but it's distant and blurred. Everything is surrounded by a soft glow.

"Where am I? I... I thought I died. Have I not joined the living Force?"

"Indeed you have, padawan. And you have been given a great honor. You may remain as yourself, if you so choose."

You can only stare, questioning. You nearly correct him, to tell him you're a Jedi Knight, but you realize there's no purpose for such a title here.

He seems to read your thoughts. "There is much you have still to learn, my young friend. I am here to guide you."

You're at a loss, but ready for whatever may come next. "What... what will you teach me?"

He smiles again. "Whatever you wish to know."

Immediately, your attention turns to where Obi Wan and Anakin remain, behind the veil. You have only one question, and it's more important than anything you've ever asked.

"Did I make the right choice?"

"A relative question."

You try again, more honest this time. "Will they live? Will the Republic... and the galaxy..." You shake your head, turning back to him. "Will everything be alright?"

Qui Gon places his hand, or the idea of his hand, gently on your shoulder, turning you away from the scene and into a white abyss. "That answer would depend upon your point of view. But before you decide, let us see the outcome that you have prevented."

Before you, a future that will never be plays out.

"Execute Order 66."

Obi Wan, shot down by... clone troopers. His own men?

Falling to his death - the vision is already burned into your mind.

But... it wasn't his death. You'd been deceived in every way imaginable. Obi Wan swims to the surface, to escape.

He is one of very few survivors.

Ki Adi Mundi. Shaak Ti. Plo Koon. Jedi after Jedi is cut down, murdered in cold blood by the Grand Army of the Republic. So many lives, lost. Even the younglings.

Mace Windu loses his life, too, but at the hand of Palpatine himself. The images look eerily familiar.

Anakin falls to the dark side. The temple burns.

Scenes are speeding up now - there is so much death. Jedi. Clones. Innocent bystanders.

Padmé.

The creation of the Death Star. Entire worlds destroyed in the blink of an eye.

And Obi Wan... alive, but alone. Watching over Anakin's son. Betrayed by those he cared for most.

The Jedi Order is gone, and the galaxy will never be the same.

When the vision ends, Qui Gon pulls back his hand and looks at you curiously. "Do you recall your teachings by Master Yoda, regarding the future?"

You nod, letting go of what you've seen. "The future is always in motion."

A light shines behind Qui Gon's eyes. "I seem to remember him phrasing it differently, yet the sentiment is there."

You brighten along with him, but it's still impossible to smile in the center of all your grief. "Then... the future that will happen now...?"

He's quiet for a moment, letting you find the answer yourself. You realize what he means. You'll have to watch it unfold for yourself.

"We will wait and see, padawan. Your work is done. It is time to rest."

And as you slowly let go of your anxieties, your doubts, and your fears, knowing there is nothing more you can do to change things, you feel your soul grow lighter.

It's then that you realize it - the weight you'd carried for so long has finally been lifted.

With time, and with teaching, you are able to find peace. The brother - the Son, as you come to know him through Qui Gon's knowledge is not able to reach you here. When you give yourself over to the Force, it's no longer a violent wave threatening to carry you away from yourself. Connecting to the Force and letting it flow through you makes you feel more yourself than you ever have.

Throughout your time with Obi Wan, you had always thought of him as your steady rock, keeping you from being swept away in the stream of the Force. But at long last, you understand - you've been the rock, stubbornly holding onto your anxieties. Forced to live in fear and limiting yourself as the darkness pressed in, holding you captive, too afraid to let go. Obi Wan has only ever been trying to teach you to become like water and flow into the rest of the universe.

If only you could tell him.

But you let that thought go, and eventually, you fade into the energy that surrounds the galaxy, to experience beauty like never before.

You travel from planet to planet, observing, listening and learning. You see your friends as they live their lives. You let yourself be carried away by time and space, watching everything happen through the lens of the Force.

Palpatine is taken into custody by the Jedi council. By leaving him alive, yet in a catatonic state, you made it possible for him to be questioned, and to uncover the depth of his lies and manipulation. Many months pass as his secrets are untangled, giving the council all the proof they need to negotiate the many, many treaties required. Senator Bail Organa, rather than meeting his end on Alderaan, has a long and successful career working alongside the Jedi to broker peace across the galaxy.

Mace Windu returns from Utapau, successful in his mission to defeat Grievous. The Separatist threat is over. Or, never truly existed.

The road is long and arduous, but with the help of Master Yoda and the rest of the council, arrests are made, compromises are found, and civilizations are rebuilt after the war.

The council, however, is one member short, soon after the fighting ends.

Obi Wan stays true to his word, leaving the Jedi Order to find a solitary existence on Saleucami.

You watch as he creates an idyllic homestead, filled with crops well tended and animals well cared for. It's a quiet life. One he deserves. And his leaving the order gives Anakin the courage to do the same.

Anakin and Padmé welcome the twins together on Naboo, surrounded by friends and family. Obi Wan even visits, occasionally.

Padmé's death, like Obi Wan's, was a deception; a lie fed to Anakin by Palpatine, just as the son lied to you. Anakin will struggle with his connection to the Force for the rest of his life. But with the help of Jedi mind healers, he learns to let go of his fears. No longer under Palpatine's influence, he finally manages to find peace.

Meanwhile, throughout Obi Wan's time on Saleucami, while his days are filled with light, they are equally filled with doubt. And his nights are filled with regret.

You can feel his pain radiating through the Force, calling out to you, and you can't help but come to his side. With only a few feet, and yet all of time and space between you, you listen as he whispers his thoughts aloud.

"Please, Master... if you hear me... please..."

He stays like this for minutes, sometimes hours, just watching the emptiness. It isn't just meditation. It's something more broken than that. A call in the darkness. A plea for help.

"Master Yoda has told me that you've appeared to him. That I am to learn from you once again. If that is true, you must help me. I need your guidance."

Silence answers.

"I... I don't know how to... move forward. If what I have done is unforgivable. If there was truly no way to save her."

You find yourself whispering back, knowing he can't hear you but trying anyway. "You did save me. You saved everyone."

But it's no use. And after the silence drags on, he puts himself to bed, no closer to acceptance. No closer to hope.

You spend so many nights at his side, telling him the truths he'll never hear.

"If only it had been me." / "No, Obi Wan. Don't say that."

"There must have been another way." / "There wasn't. There never was."

"I could have used reason. I could have tried harder to reach her." / "I was too far gone. Nothing would have brought me back."

One night, he blinks back tears as he listens to the darkness for the hundredth time. Then he whispers your name.

"Forgive me," He sighs, taking in a shuddering breath. "I've made so many mistakes, and I can never set things right."

You close your eyes, remembering the words he'd told you long ago.

"You do not need my forgiveness, my master. But you have it."

As you watch him, heart tearing apart at your inability to reach him, you feel a familiar hand on your shoulder. You turn to look up at Qui Gon. You want to ask him why he doesn't answer Obi Wan. Why he won't bring him the the relief that he needs.

But you already know the answer.

Qui Gon watches him with a solemn gaze.

"He will not hear until he is ready."

--

It's a beautiful day in artifical Spring on Coruscant when that time finally comes.

It's been over a year since Obi Wan has created a life for himself on Saleucami. If one could call what he's doing living. Part of him died the moment his blade touched you. He'll never be the same, and he knows it.

But there are still reasons to go on living. And visiting the temple is one of those reasons.

Over a cup of tea in Mace Windu's quarters, the truth emerges, and drives straight through Obi Wan's heart.

"Wh- what are you saying? She never said these things to me."

It had been a long discussion, catching up on internal government politics, friends and acquaintances, and temple life, when the topic had turned to you, and Obi Wan's coping with your loss. In recounting your final conversation, Mace had divulged a long and intricate list of details. Ones you had never shared with Obi Wan. Ones that would have almost certainly led to Mace's failure to capture Grievous, and possibly, to his own death.

"That cannot be," Obi Wan whispers to himself. None of the things you'd told Mace line up with any of the few details you'd given him.

"The instructions the commander provided would have led us straight into a trap. Thankfully, we had the necessary recon to avoid it. But that is exactly what she told me. She swore she'd told you as well. I would have questioned you, but your resignation was so soon afterward..."

He trails off, and Obi Wan is left speechless.

Your fall to the dark side hadn't happened suddenly. It had been a long time coming. You had been willing to send an innocent man to his death.

How long had you been planning this? How long had you suffered in the dark? 

It wouldn't have stopped with Anakin. You would have killed anyone who you perceived as a threat. Anyone who stood in your way. Your fear and anger had turned you long before you killed Palpatine.

Whatever had twisted your mind, you'd kept it hidden from him for a long time.

He remembers your words: "All my life has been darkness..."

He begins to understand you may have had more to tell him. Words you never had a chance to say. That he may not have been wholly responsible for what happened.

When he meditates upon what you said about the light, he makes the first step in deciding the rest of his life: Whether he believes he made the right choice or the wrong one, whether he is Jedi or not, whether he made mistakes... he has a responsibility. He must always turn back to the light.

And that night, back in his bed, for the first time since you've been gone, he can swear he feels your presence beside him.

--

 

Ten Years Later

"It is good to have you here, Master Kenobi."

He grins, winding his arm in a slow circle with his hand on his shoulder, loosening up from the long ride to Courkrus. "Happy to be here, Master Luminara. I hear the pirate hoardes are lovely this time of year."

She gives a half-roll of her eyes at his familiar irreverence, but she smiles, too.

"The main front has moved to the West side of the mountains, here." She indicates a broad swath of land on the holomap as they begin their hike toward the village. "We have a perimeter set up throughout most of the Southern hills, but there will still be a lot of work to do in the coming days if we expect to push back in time for the harvest."

It had taken Obi Wan some time to return to his seat on the council. Another year had passed on Saleucami after his conversation with Mace Windu. But it had been the missing piece he'd needed to let go of blame, let go of regret, and reconnect with himself and the Force. Eventually, he found himself strong enough to start to live again.

And one fateful night, long after he had stopped calling out for his master, he finally heard the voice of Qui Gon calling out to him.

Before he could stop himself, your name left his lips. He needed to know; Qui Gon had to tell him. Everything. Anything.

But his old master had simply smiled and told him there was much he still needed to learn.

Qui Gon instructed him in following a new path - one that would help him retain his consciousness, even after death. A privilege reserved for those powerful and humble enough to attain it.

His training continues, even now, as he feels the familiar pulse of the Force flowing through him, heading into battle yet again, to defend a small farming village from a gang of pirates terrorizing the local star system.

It feels good to be of use, Obi Wan is thinking, just as a spike of warning jolts through the Force and he turns to see a child toddling outside the village gates.

Luminara is fast at his side as he leaps forward, slicing his lightsaber through the air and blocking a rocket missile barreling toward the gate. It explodes in front of them, knocking the child backward as Obi Wan bears the brunt of the heat, pushing it back with an outstretched hand.

"Get the child inside!" he shouts, knowing Luminara is already moving to do so, but absolving her of any hesitation in waiting for him. "Go!"

The village gate slams shut behind them, and Obi Wan is just about to gracefully leap over the wall when something catches his eye in the distance.

It's a pulse cannon. These are no ordinary ruffians. This is an organized invasion.

He hesitates before getting inside the walls of the village. They won't stand a chance against this kind of firepower at close range. He has to take it out before it can make it over the hill.

He's not a young man anymore, but he's fairly certain he can outpace the slow artillery unit as it crawls its way closer. Darting in a zig-zag pattern across the open plain, he's already closing in before they've even realized they're a target. Raising his lightsaber, he nears the enemy, and all at once he realizes why the view port hasn't been turned in his direction.

Outside the gates behind the opposite side of the village, a small militia has been gathered by the pirates and are standing, disarmed, awaiting their execution by blaster. Obi Wan glances back at the cannon.

He can save the villagers, but he would never have time to close the distance back to the cannon. He would be an easy target.

Luminara would see the cannon in time to save the rest of the village. He knew that much. But she couldn't help the ones in front of him, now. There's only one choice to make.

He dashes in front of the line of pirates, severing the ends of their readied blasters all in one fell swoop. As they stare at him in bewilderment, he frees the villagers from their restraints with another flick of his lightsaber and turns to run, knowing that the pulse cannon has already locked onto him.

The light is blinding, his body wracked with shock as his muscles freeze mid-step, and it's over in an instant.

In the end, it didn't hurt as much as he'd expected.

The legendary Obi Wan Kenobi meets his fate at the hands of a backwater gang of pirates. It's almost enough to make him laugh, as he fades away into the cosmos.

--

 

For ten years, or none, you've been a part of the Force. It seems like eons and no time at all.

Your own death was a moment ago and so long ago it was the beginning of the universe. You've experienced wonderful things and grown so much since then, and yet it's all passed in the blink of an eye.

And suddenly, at long last, you feel it: A new soul has joined the light.

Across time and space, you recognize it.

And you run to it. Of course you do. You are the Force. And the Force has always loved Obi Wan.

When you see him, he's carrying the soft smile he's only ever held for you. He's filled with light, and you know he's succeeded in his training, to remain as himself, the same as you. Qui Gon will be so proud.

Everything you need to tell him - that you will tell him, fades away. The past has no bearing now that you are both finally free. There is no time at all, and you have all the time you could ever want.

Your eyes are filled with tears as you cross the distance, and when he catches you, it feels like everything's changed, and yet nothing has. As you fall into his arms, he sighs with pure, uncomplicated joy. The only difference is that his voice is a little deeper, a little softer in your ear.

"Hello, my love."

The End.

--

Masterlist

Tag List: @cosmicsierra @projectdreamwalker @guacam011y @thriving-n-jiving @reverieisaway @cursedfaechild @honeymoon7770 @hedvighedvig @cool-ontherun-world @ladytano420 @eddythewitch @immajustvibehere @thegreatwicked @marrily @millercontracting @littleredwolf @b0xerdancer-writes

[kotemf]

(Un)wanted visitors

  Fox was replying to a senator's complaint about service of one of their newest shinies when he heard the door open. He didn't even have to look up to know who just walked it, he recognized the clapping of heels. "You shouldn't be here."

  "Why not?"

  Fox didn't bother answering. This wouldn't be the first time they had this conversation. He grumbled unhappily when a blue hand snatched his data pad away. "Riyo!"

  "What? You've been staring at that thing for hours."

  "How do you know?"

  Riyo gave him an unimpressed look. "Fox. You can't work twnty four hours seven days in a week. You need to take a break."

  "Get out of my office."

  "Now that's pretty rude."

  "I'm just trying to save your reputation. What would your colleagues in the senate say if they found out you were alone in an office, behind closed doors, with a clone commander? If it was just business, surely you would just send a message or meet up in the senate, not the barracks."

  "Maybe it would help them see clones as sentient, if they knew about us, you know?"

  "We both know it would more likely get me decommissioned."

  Fox shouldn't have said that. He made Riyo sad. "I know. But sometimes I think that maybe if others saw what I see, things would change. That maybe if we just showed everyone that you have feelings just like everyone else."

  "Why are you so intent on proving that today?"

  Riyo hesitated. "The Republic had to raise taxes because of the war. There are many protests, even more than before."

  "I know."

  "I heard an aide of one of the senators address a clone as 'meat can'."

  Fox almost laughed. That wasn't by far the worst insult nat-borns were calling them. "That's not too bad. Just forget about it. It's not your problem."

  "I know, I just- I hate it when they call you that. They don't know anything. They treat you all worse than droids, as if you were emotionless and meanwhile you named your tooka after me because you are sentimental."

  "I'm not sentimental."

  "Fox, you are about as sentimental as a person can get."

  "I'm not sentimental!"

  "You are sentimental and I love it," Riyo declared. Apparently, she decided she was done teasing Fox and that it was time to get him away from his work for good. She walked over and sat down on Fox's lap.

  "I was working, you know?"

  "Come on, Fox'ika, you are glad to see me."

  "Of course I am." Fox kissed the top of Riyo's head. Even sitting on his lap, she was smaller than him. He loved how tiny she was. He didn't really get her need to wear heels, he found their difference in height nice.

  "Do you want to come to my apartment and maybe have a lunch?"

  "You aren't going to let me work, are you?" Fox asked even if he already knew the answer.

  "No, I'm not." Riyo grinned at him.

  "Seems like I don't have a choice."

  "You don't."

  Now this was the type of getting choices taken away that Fox liked.

[driftsart]

tell us more abt ur shockwave!!!!! pretty please. I saw the previous tags on the eepy post and u said he's the nicest ever. now im even more inclined to give him hugs

Sure! ⬇️⬇️

Here's some pre-war Shockwave lore:

Shockwave was originally a senator (I'm still figuring out in what city), but his mind was rarely focused on his job. His dream was to be a scientist, not a senator (since jobs were chosen for Cybertronians). He would often skip work just to work on his experiments that only Soundwave and later on, Orion Pax knew about. His works and experiments all had the same goal, making Cybertron a better/equal place to live in. And since he worked with/close to Cybertron's government, he knew about most conflicts/issues on Cybertron.

Early years of war Shockwave lore:

During the begining of the war, Shockwave's experiments were exposed to the public after autobots finding out he was allies with the newly formed group which were nameless at the time (the deceptions). With his experiments out in the open, many autobots were angered and thought of them as dark science since Shockwave kept them hidden. Ever since, he was considered a mad scientist that had to be captured. He was hunted down by bounty hunter Lockdown, which at the time, was an autobot. He was found in a burning down factory carrying a newly forged cybertronian who was abandoned. Because of this, the autobots accused him of stealing sparklings just to experiment on them. He was then given the punishment of empurata, with extra weapons and parts just so that he would have to "carry the weight of his crimes".

After Empurata lore:

After the punishment, Shockwave, with his newly formed emotionless mind, k!lled the group of bots who performed the punishment on him. He later on escaped and hid in the wastelands where he worked tirelessly day and night trying to find any way of restoring his memories and emotions. He wasn't seen for years after that.

So y'all might be wondering, how did he join the 'cons?

The deceptions at this time we're trying to build ships to escape cybertron and hopefully find a better place to regroup and start their own Cybertron. Luckily, Megatron stumbled across the place Shockwave was hiding in. At first, he didn't recognize Shockwave due to the massive change in appearence because of the empurata. Shockwave had just invented a cure for his memory loss and it was just kicking in so he still didn't remember much so he attacked Megatron. During the battle, the cure finally kicked in and his memories came back to him. After some apologies and etc. Megatron asked him to join his team as the scientist. Shockwave agreed.

Shockwave now:

Shockwave usually spends his time in his lab inside the Nemesis. He's a really nice guy since he has his memories/emotions back. He's found ways of making the empurata punishment more bearable for him, as well as finding out how he can remove parts and rebuild his body. But with the lack of materials, he can't do much. Lockdown's a decepticon now, and he's apologized for what he did in the past. Shockwave isn't entirely sure wether to trust him or not though, so he keeps his distance.

He is a big hugger though, careful he doesn't break you. :)

Some additional info:

-He's around 70-75 in robot years. (I've been adjusting their ages)

-His alt most is kinda like the TFP one

-Blitzwing hates him (since he's had some trauma w/ scientists before)

-Pronouns: he/him

-The little sparkling he rescued was Thrust, and after joining the decepticons, he decided to take care of her (yeah Thrust's a she :]) so that someday he can prove to the autobots that he only meant good intentions that day.

That's kinda what I'm brainstorming so far lmao 💀

(I'm also thinking of maybe during the Empurata, Soundwave and Megatron try to save him but he attacks them too before he runs off idk lmao)

[utilitycaster]

…so I decided to check out Polygon’s D20 coverage, and frankly I think you were entirely too kind to them. Good. GOD, some of that stuff read like they’ve never watched AP that *wasn’t* CR, D20 or the first season of TAZ. And have somehow made it thru the 2010s without encountering urban fantasy…

Anyway, to further nudge you towards your destiny of AP journalism (and with the understanding that you have a Real Job and a life outside TTRPGs and the internet); can you please expand on what you think D20 brings to the table?(pun unintended, but I stand by it) Because speaking as someone who has watched a handful of eps and enjoys the concepts, the praise PG were offering was damningly faint.

Hi! Thank you, and for what it's worth I don't think most of them have listened to the first season of TAZ either, given the way they talk about WBN as inventing the actual play longform podcast. I do want to note: I like writing longform stuff about actual play but I am adamantly not a journalist. I am not investigating or interviewing or reporting; I'm doing analysis and editorial. Amateur critic is the most I can claim to and that's a stretch (and even there I have a particular privilege in that I'm writing all this for free, anonymously, by choice, and don't need be be nice or maintain relationships with actual play performers within the space because I could burn every bridge and still make rent.)

Anyway. I think a major flaw of Polygon is that it's so focused on novelty and subversion that it forgets a well-worn concept, executed with skill, is actually great and for many people, preferable. Brennan, from everything I have heard him say and from how he actually runs games, has a deep respect for fantasy as a genre, and the stories he tells in D20 are ones he is clearly familiar with and loves. I also think to subvert things you must be a fan, and when D20 does successfully subvert or twist a genre, it's coming from a place of respect and understanding.

Anyway, just covering a few Intrepid Heroes seasons: I think Fantasy High (and I haven't gotten to the latest episode of Junior Year) is actually increasingly a brilliant deconstruction of D&D as a game by making the world aware that it's in a D&D game. What does it mean to be in a D&D party and be an adventurer and have that be a significant part of who you are? What does it mean to be a commoner in this world? What do you do when you're sort of a broke teen in generic suburbia but also you need the loot that an adventurer would theoretically get from dragon hoards? Why do you have to know what your life's calling will be when you're 14? One of my personal favorite things, as a lover of mechanics and TTRPGs as a system of storytelling and more generally as someone who believes that your medium of choice should be informing the story you tell, is when people engage with character roles and classes instead of treating them as just a set of cool things you can do, and Fantasy High very much pushes the players to do this. I also mentioned elsewhere that the downtime stress mechanics are a brilliant addition to one of the genuine gaps in D&D, namely, while downtime is a time for open RP, there's not a good way to handle things like stress or crafting or prioritizing well.

The Unsleeping City is one I like, honestly, just because I lived in New York for a few years and Brennan lived there far longer (as did much of the cast, though not all) and his love for it is apparent. I don't think it's groundbreaking; I just think it's really good. The characters are excellent and the story is fun. It's true that, for example, it allows you the satisfaction of making Amazon's and its attempted move into Long Island City the BBEG and smiting its ass instead of having to harangue your senators and councilpeople (as I did, and I wasn't even living in Queens) but really it's just a good story. It doesn't need to be more than that. It did not invent urban fantasy or the idea of a secret magical version of a real city or "most myths are real"; it's just a good story!

I think A Crown of Candy is also just a fun setting and, by making everyone food, emphasizes how petty and arbitrary the alliances in a Game of Thrones-esque milieu can be. It casts a scathing eye on religious interpretation as a tool for conquest without clumsily proclaiming the mere concept of religion is the problem. It has one of the best explorations of character death I've seen and Brennan's acting as Caramelinda remains a tour de force for him. Bringing the entire story of succession and war down to a final choice between two half-sisters remains a brilliant decision, the setting is supported by the mechanical limits Brennan imposed upon character creation, and it's overall beautifully done.

Even Neverafter, which I think have openly said didn't live up to its initial promise, had that promise with the fantastic handling of the TPK; I have a love for metanarrative and honestly my issue is that it was the wrong place to do metanarrative, but it was a bold choice to do in the unpredictable medium of actual play.

That's really only covering a fraction - I think some other standouts are Mentopolis, A Court of Fey and Flowers, Coffin Run, and Escape from the Bloodkeep, and while Shriek Week is just not a genre I'm personally super drawn to, I think the Mythic system is a great system for the story being told and Hicks does a great job running it.

Really what it comes down to is that D20 falls in between what a lot of shows are. It doesn't have the freedom but also the burden of a very long-running campaign (indeed, WBN exists because its performers, all of whom have featured in D20, wanted to be able to do longform actual play), nor is it quite as rushed as an all-miniseries or one-shot show. It has space to explore one or two things really well without having to carry a thousand different threads (and believe me, Brennan tries to put in as many as he can in that space - I actually wonder if the reason Fantasy High Junior Year feels a little more streamlined to me is that WBN was by that time in full swing). But it's not the first edited actual play, it mostly uses very widespread systems, the production values are high but not unheard of elsewhere (and I think that production values in AP beyond the basic 'can you hear and, if relevant, see things clearly and does the set look nice' are overrated though that's a personal preference), the cast is strong but not the first group of professionals or even comedians, and they didn't invent the concept of filming remotely or scrims or having an anticapitalist message.

My issue with the journalists, to reiterate that, is that they're not really doing much journalism, actually; and that their bias is horribly apparent. There's little analysis - just shallow reviews that show little understanding of actual play as a medium, fantasy as a genre, or TTRPGs as a system. And while being entirely free of bias is unavoidable - we are people, and we will bring our own interpretations and experiences in, and there are people who will love D20 and dislike Critical Role without doing so in bad faith - the fact that several of the journalists have openly crowed and preened about their special access to the D20 cast really makes it apparent that they like D20 because Dropout gives them early access and says nice things about them. And it's a feedback loop; Critical Role is going to keep saying "well, you constantly shit on us, so no, you don't get early access" and they'll keep writing bad reviews because they don't get early access.

But to return to the point, D20 is legitimately great and yeah the bias in my mind is only hurting them because, speaking only for myself, if there's two things I like and people heap fawning and inaccurate praise on one and nitpick the other? I'm going to start looking into that praise and find more flaws, and I'm going to start defending the nitpicked one. I really love Fantasy High Junior Year but the Polygon article is so bad I have to remind myself that it's just because the person who wrote it is an idiot. I probably would have gone into Kollok much more neutrally if people didn't act like it was the fucking invention of television. Do give D20 a try if you can! Don't read the articles.

[walnutbun]

Just want to say, @ all of you self-proclaimed "leftists" and "progressives" who refused to vote for Harris, whatever your reasoning:

FUCK YOU.

This is on YOU.

You knew what was at stake here, and you STILL did this shit to us. You decided that strategic voting was somehow above you, that your perceived moral superiority was more important than the rights of women, LGBTQ+ people, minorities, and basically everyone who isn't a cishet white Christian male.

Trump won because of you, and now he's got the Senate - and quite possibly the House, too. You know what that means? Even more far-right "justices". Say goodbye to gay marriage - it was nice while it lasted. Oh, and don't kid yourself - there's no chance in hell he's keeping his promise to veto a national abortion ban. Even if he does, though, the Supreme Court will make it law for him.

Speaking of kidding yourselves, don't even try the "it's only four years" shit. The Supreme Court already took care of that - he's got total immunity for anything he does that's related to the "core powers of the office". I'm sure that he and his buddies can think of a way to ensure that, even if he can't stay President, we never see another Democratic POTUS.

Oh, and by the way: HE'S WORSE ON ISRAEL, YOU FUCKING MORONS. With Harris there was at least a chance to talk her out of supporting the genocide - with Trump, Gaza will be lucky not to be nuked. Say goodbye to Ukraine, too, since everyone knows Trump is in bed with Putin. Hell, Putin's probably already preparing a "justification" for continuing to march the Russian army westward.

I'd say that I hope the lower grocery prices was worth it, but he won't even do that - his tariffs will drive prices of everything through the fucking roof (on top of the greedy corporations who - spoiler alert - were the ones driving the recession in the first place, trying to recoup lost profits from COVID).

All of you. You all decided it was OK to gamble with other people's lives. Even if the gamble had worked out, you'd still have been horrible people for risking it - but it didn't work out, did it?

On behalf of those of us who will suffer because of your selfish choices, fucking thanks. I hope the ability to pat yourself on the back and say "well at least I didn't vote for someone who supports Israel" was worth the death, destruction, and suffering that he'll inevitably cause.

[saphronethaleph]

Clickbait

“Okay, there we go,” Birka Mars said, finishing with her keypad and pushing it away. “Piece finished.”

Her boss looked at her.

“What?” Birka asked. “Like I said. Piece. Finished.”

“Is it properly finished, this time?” Hemarr said. “You remember what happened last time we ran a story you hadn’t finished.”

“I’d finished the writing,” Birka defended herself. “I just hadn’t got all the sources quite lined up. And it was true anyway, right?”

Hemarr rubbed his temples.

“Yes, eventually,” he said. “After a five month court case and a visit from the Coruscant Guard. We’ve been over this, Birka – your gossip pieces earn you big bucks but they have to be weighed against the risks.”

“Right, right, I get the point,” Birka muttered. “Okay, okay. So send it over to Legal. What kind of issues could there be, anyway?”

Hemarr opened up the file on his own datapad, and scrolled through it.

“Senator Amidala’s baby bump,” he said. “Well, at least you’re not accusing anyone of… you didn’t, did you?”

“Not at all,” Birka said. “I made sure I only ever insinuated without ever actually asserting.”

“It’ll probably do,” Hemarr muttered, scanning down the page. “Experts say… they did, right?”

“Geetwo said there was a ninety-four percent probability,” Birka replied. “And he is an expert, he’s got the programming for it.”

“That droid needs recalibrating,” Hemarr said. “But his ninety-four is probably good enough for us to be covered… all right, there’s only one thing you missed for us to be sure.”

“I thought I caught everything,” Birka protested.

“Almost,” Hemarr replied. “But you said ‘out of wedlock’. That’s an actionable claim.”

“Oh, come on!” Birka said. “Senator Amidala isn’t married.”

“Then make sure we can prove it,” Hemarr told her. “Look, I know gossip pieces are time sensitive, but but they’re not that time sensitive. Go to Naboo, confirm it, get some interviews with her family and we can roll them in as soundbites if they’re particularly good.”

Birka Mars was still smarting two days later.

“Really,” she muttered, flicking through paper files of all things. “Naboo could do with being a damn sight more… up to date. Let’s see… Amaryllis… Amecorian… Amidala, let’s do an exhaustive check…”

Her grumbles trailed off, as she held the one document with that name on it up to the light.

Then checked again.

“Padme Amidala, daughter of Ruwee and Jobal Naberrie,” she said, frowning. “That checks… Naberrie is her birth name, since Amidala is a regnal name. But…”

Birka put the paper down, slowly and reverently.

“Oh,” she said, and hugged herself. “This is… this is so much better! I have an article to rewrite!”

Some days later, two matched Jedi Starfighters landed on one of the temple landing pads.

Anakin was out first, and he jogged over to Obi-Wan’s starfighter as the cockpit opened.

“So?” he asked. “Willing to accept that you’re actually an all right pilot, yet?”

“Believe it or not, Anakin, I can accept that I’m reasonable at something without at any point deciding that I like it,” Obi-Wan replied, with a sigh. “Which is where I currently sit with regard to flying a spaceship. It’s not something I get on with well.”

He lifted himself out of the seat, and clambered down. “Well… now we need to report in.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Anakin conceded. “What do we know, anyway?”

“We know – for sure – that the Sith were involved with the clones,” Obi-Wan said. “That’s useful and potentially vital information, for the Republic and for the war. But we still have questions.”

He shook his head. “And it may be that sharing this information will simply lead the Senate to dislike the clones, or… we don’t know, that’s the truth of it.”

Then he looked up, as someone came running up – Bant Eerin, a Mon Cal Jedi who was one of his oldest friends.

“Bant!” he said. “It’s nice to see you!”

“It’s nice to see you, too, Obi,” Ban replied, but her attention was mostly on Anakin. “Is it true?”

“...is what true?” Anakin asked. “We fought Dooku, but he got away.”

“You did what?” Bant said, then shook her head. “No – not that, I mean… you know!”

“I’m afraid he doesn’t,” Obi-Wan noted. “And nor do I, I fear. We’ve been out of touch recently.”

“Oh, yeah, the mission you were on,” Bant realized. “Oba Diah, right? I guess it must have been serious – but – are you really married to Senator Amidala?”

Anakin froze. Completely.

Obi-Wan shot a sideways glance at his former Padawan, and decided that his good friend’s brain was probably in the process of trying unsuccessfully to recover from a boot loop.

“...people are asking about that?” Obi-Wan asked. “I assume they must be, if you assumed that we must have heard it.”

“There was this gossip column that published a scoop thirty hours ago,” Bant explained. “Said that they’d analyzed the Senator and found she was pregnant, and that she’d been married to Skywalker a couple of years ago.”

“But – what?” Anakin said, finally breaking out of his paralysis. “I – it was a secret marriage!”

“Yeah, they said it was filed as paperwork of all things,” Bant said, with a laugh. “Guess Naboo really is old fashioned about some things, right?”

“There was paperwork?” Anakin asked. “But… secret. Marriage…? Secret?”

“You know, Anakin, perhaps it would help to meditate on what a marriage actually is?” Obi-Wan suggested. “It’s a legal contract. That’s what separates it from having a girlfriend, after all – in many ways a marriage without a legal contract simply doesn’t exist. So the contract has to be there if someone looks for it.”

He folded his arms. “No, Anakin, I’m very disappointed in you. Because the other thing about a marriage is that it’s meant to involve your closest friends. If you were going to elope you could at least have told me about it – I’ve had the robes to wear as your best man picked out for two years now.”

Anakin turned utterly frazzled eyes on Obi-Wan.

“You knew!?” he asked.

“Anakin, when you came into the arena you were kissing,” Obi-Wan said. “I assumed she was your girlfriend, and that you were going to get married and quit the Order when the war was over. The Code forbids marriage, because it’s a formal statement that you prioritize the other person over the Jedi Order and the Code respects that, but it merely looks down on love.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, shall I?” Bant asked. “Also, uh. Fair warning? Don’t leave the temple, or you’ll get swarmed by reporters.”

[eelfuneral]

Things That The Jedi Could Have Done For The Clones

If you’ve been following me for long enough, then you will know that I have some, shall we say, concerns about how people discuss the relationship between the Jedi and the Clones and the thorny ethical issues that it entails. A lot of folks figure that because the Jedi are meant to be the “good guys” and because they are “nice” to the Clones, they are basically absolved of any responsibility or complacency in the Clones’ enslavement. I disagree. Yes, the Jedi couldn’t free every Clone overnight in the middle of a war and no, they weren’t the ones who decided to create and enslaved them, but I still feel like there are actions that they could have taken to establish that they wanted to help the Clones beyond a kind word or two. So in no particular order, here is a list of things that the Jedi could have done.

On an institutional level, they could have:

1. Advocated for Clone citizenship. The Jedi were more enmeshed with the Senate than they would ever admitted, and they could have discussed drafting a bill with senators to legally give the Clones citizenship.

2. Advocated for Clones to be paid a living wage. See number one.

3. Set up vocational and life-skills courses for Clones to help them prepare for life after the war.

4. Punished and investigated Jedi like Pong Krell who dehumanized and/or abused clones. The fact that an unusually high number of Clones were dying wherever Krell went and the Jedi didn’t even think to look at why that was kind of blows my mind and makes me think that they were being negligent.

5. Given Clones like Slick (who would have been rare due to the Kaminoan’s indoctrination of the Clones before the Jedi even came into the picture) the option of doing things other than being soldiers.

6. Pushed the Kaminoans and Trainers to cease any and all abuse and dehumanization of Clones in Tipoca City. The “you can’t outright kill disabled clones, but you can give them Janitorial Duty of Shame™️” and the “when trainers abuse Clones, we’ll just look the other way” approaches that they adopted in canon were not ideal.

As Individuals, they could have:

1. Personally advocated for Clones who came to them with complaints of abuse and sentient rights violations.

2. Refused to participate in the enslavement of the Clones, left the Order, and became an advocates for their rights outside of the confines of the Jedi Code.

3. Secretly helped Clones who expressed that they did not want to be part of the GAR to escape and find happiness, no questions asked.

4. Kept their Clone colleagues in the loop about advocacy work being done on their behalf.

5. Allowed Clones serving under them who expressed interest in doing so to make suggestions about and/or participate in said advocacy work.

6. Really taken a moment to sit down and talk to Clones about how they were living and what they wanted.