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harmonysanreads · 19 days

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sunday with a singer! darling, one who had escaped from him almost seven years ago, and disappeared off the face of the galaxy. imagine his reaction when he gets word of a famous belobogian band on the radio soon after it’s connections to the IPC were restored, comprised of a woman named serval landau, and a *very* familiar young woman, with an even more familiar voice.

- (…could i be ✨ anon?)

Curtain Call

yandere!sunday x reader

cw(s) : yandere, written before 2.2

wc : 2.6k

You have the power of democracy by your side ✨ anon and I have no choice but to adhere to public demand :] Even though you mentioned a female!reader, the direction of the narrative didn't necessitate that specification, so the reader is gender-neutral! But they have been called ‘babygirl’ once.

“How can the bird that is born for joy

Sit in a cage and sing?”

— William Blake

You've avoided all shades of white and blue since the dawn of this day.

Serval regarded your pertinacity with a voiceless breadth of intrigue, before yielding with little to no resistance. A smidgen of guilt had briefly permeated your consciousness upon the vague shadow of a pout on her face, you recalled her enthusiasm passed through plans of matching outfits on your debutante from days now labeled as the near past. She picked herself up quickly though, her free-spirited ideals would not be compromised by some mere color choice.

It was difficult to not admire her. Lamentably, it is much easier to cradle the preachings of an unrestrained life than to actually act upon them — and by doing so, shouldering the frigid reality that came with such a life. As a child of frozen terrains although, frigidity must be Serval's playground, you eventually conclude. That is hardly the case for you, but you'd rather swallow whole chunks of ice than pin the blame on yourself alone for that apparent incapability.

You aren't at fault for your paranoia in embracing freedom, but you are resolved enough to try breaking away from its clutches. But just as tattoos sink deep beneath skin, that anxiety stubbornly clings to your psyche and the memories of the past nurture and allow it to fester. Which is why, you must avoid any shades of white and blue, at least until the dawn of tomorrow graces Belobog. Be it a superstition with no rational ground or scientific explanation, you decide to believe firmly in your gut.

The walls of the makeshift back-room muffle the chorus of the crowd outside, but it is enough to comfort you that your long held wish did come true. The single light bulb hanging beyond the door of the room serves as the sole source of luminescence, although it is barely helpful, the light bounces off from your back and reflects a scarcely tangible silhouette in the mirror of the dressing table. Glitters of dust floating around are illuminated by that light, abandoned furniture peek beneath their veils from your peripheral — they exclaim what this room's previous purpose had been.

Neither the modest setting nor the small trinkets spread across the dressing table come close to what you had a taste of ; glimmering surfaces, brands of beauty products worth a man's life savings and silks of no contender would mock this shack, if they could. But your heart soaks in solace whenever that irritatingly bright light flickers and mellowed cheers of the crowd permeate the room's thin walls, not because you lack taste in life, but because you recognize the futility of vanity.

“You did amazing there, babygirl!”

Your vision stutters at the impact of firm touch, you feel arms rest atop your decolletage, a shadow cloaks your reflection in the mirror. The cool touch of metal upon your left shoulder and a distinct streak of blue masquerading among blond locks of hair draw out a breath of relief from your lungs. But a faint twist engulfs your gut the very next second, you recall asking for a moment of quietude vividly.

“I don't think my performance was as great as you say, Serval. And whatever I achieved, it wouldn't have been possible without you guys.” your fingers twiddle with your sleeves, your eyes find interest in an abandoned nail polish.

You peek up in time to meet the rockstar's stare through the mirror, with some wrestling with the light, her disapproval shines through to your eyes.

“Nonsense, you were the star of today's show. Give yourself some credit, would ya?” your cheek soaks in the pinch before your brain can decode her words, you muffle a whine in protest.

“Okay, okay! I'm sorry.” your hand quickly soothes over the tempered skin when her fingers retreat, that's the extent of ‘retaliation’ you offer Serval, having accustomed yourself to her spontaneity in the interim of your stay under her care.

“I saw you look... pretty unnerved after the performance, so I came to check.” you scratch your cheek, eyes darting upwards to find her face shielded by your hair. You cannot pinpoint why, but for a second it seemed like she struggled to find footing with her phrasing of words. You've never heard her falter, at least in speech, but the waves of conversation swallow that momentary observation just as quickly.

Instead of being candid, you take a different turn, “You know, I wasn't lying about being grateful to you all. To perform on a stage without any rules was a long held dream of mine,” you feel gooseflesh bloom across your arms as tip-toeing touch descends to your sides, something within tempts you to curl in on yourself but you force your breath to finish. “If it hadn't been for your help, I would never succeed in fulfilling it.”

Serval hums in understanding, the timbres of it traverses from your skull and extends to your nerves. Her arms rest snuggly around your waist and you swallow dryly. Serval always wrapped her arms around your shoulders whenever she felt the need to and the fact that it made your head nearly spiral with questions didn't require to be stated. Only now do you reckon the slumbering atmosphere, without the jeer and cheer of the audience, you felt Belobog's cold biting into the tips of your fingers. You told everyone to not disturb you — your mind echoes without clarification.

“Is it because of that husband of yours?”

Your shoulders tense and for a litany of reasons, most obscure enough to be dismissed as misnomers produced by your instincts, none but one potent enough to be addressed. “Well yes… I told you about a man, but I don't remember specifying that it was a ‘husband’ responsible for my situation.”

Your words materialize as half confused and half laden with caution, you'd told Serval a few things about your predicament — nothing groundbreakingly detailed, just enough to earn a portion of her empathy. It kills you to follow tactics that enticed you to your doom, but what is life, if not a series of trial and error? It's best to apply the teachings of a manipulator than to continue being manipulated for eternity. But of course, you'll admit, such carefully taken steps still don't lessen the likelihood of meeting a dead-end to zero. How unfortunate.

It's Serval's turn to tense, but it's so quick you're left questioning whether it really happened. “Ah, but there was a ring on your right ring finger when you first came here! And the ‘man’ in your stories didn't seem to be different persons. So, I took a guess…”

An awkward chuckle leaves the rockstar's lips and you blink. She's right, you were still wearing your wedding ring when you came here ; an amateur mistake, you should've left it at some abstruse corner of the Dewlight Pavilion. You glance up at your reflections on the mirror, Serval was now mimicking your previous antics, a painted nail against her cheek albeit, the opposing light veiled her expression from recognition. One of her arms was still around your waist, loosely this time.

“I didn't say anything offending, did I?” the mechanic mutters tentatively. You take a deep breath and exhale, vacillating between the multitude of scenarios conjured by your lingering paranoia. But if it's Serval, you give it more thought, there was no tangible reason as to why she of all people would bring this up with malicious intent — or at least, none that you could come up with. She was likely merely concerned for your well-being, a big sister's instincts perhaps.

“Not at all,” the three words are uttered with more difficulty than needed but the effort is proved worth it when she relaxes and returns to embrace you with gusto.

This time you can feel her touch vividly across the bare skin of your midriff, a reminder of your present dress up automatically causes blood to rush to your face. The matching crop-top with Serval was hardly the most revealing thing someone had worn in this universe, but it was the boldest you'd been with your attire. You think you saw her gaze tilting at the sight but the only way to affirm it would make things further awkward. As you melt upon recalling that you'd sung your lungs out with this on in front of a crowd, the rockstar chimes in again.

“Ah right, I almost forgot why I actually came here. I have a gift for you!” you blink out of your stupor to hear shuffles, a bottle of hairspray is knocked to the ground due to her movements. The object clamors down and rolls a few feet away but Serval pays it no attention, you quirk a brow at her sudden briskness. “Close your eyes.” she lulls sweetly, you obey despite your state of disorientation.

You feel the faint brushes of her fingers first, then a noticeable weight around your neck, fastened a little too tightly. After she beckons you to open your eyes, you scrutinize the object through your reflection on the mirror and recognize it to be… a choker. It's heavier than what you recall chokers to be, its body is painted in baby blue and when you turn your head the light bounces off its surface to reveal golden outlinings. Three small wings curl around the white tassel hanging from the middle, you find the wings to be unnervingly soft when your fingers brush across them.

The choker looked expensive, despite its somewhat gaudy appearance and it didn't seem like something aligning with Serval's tastes. But most importantly, there's blue and white in it — the two colors you'd been stubbornly avoiding. Your mind spirals, you clearly remember telling Serval that you didn't want to see those two colors today — or, did you? Perhaps it was your mind weaving its own narratives in the flurry of adrenaline? A chill rears its grotesque head, a panic you can't quite push down despite your mind adapting to give her the benefit of the doubt, your breaths lapse unevenly.

“For being such a darling member of Mechanical Fever, a token of our friendship. I didn't know how else to thank you, so I got this instead.” Serval's voice yanks you from the edge of a panic attack, you force yourself to breathe deeply. You turn around when you notice the absence of her shadow, finding her retreating into the shadow of the half ajar door.

You remain seated on the juncture between light and shadow, returning to face the mirror after the rockstar settles on a stool. “I should be the one saying that and… you didn't have to give me this, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless.” your thumb and index fingers twiddle with the pure white tassel.

Her words seem to make you forget about your earlier paranoia, nostalgia cascades down your soul as you recall the fond memories inherent to Belobog. Destiny's game is truly difficult to comprehend, to think you'd find an actual home so far from your supposed one.

You add without waiting for her reply, “When I first came here, I was so scared and paranoid. I couldn't sleep the first night and I wanted nothing more than to flee the next morning. I really mean it when I say I couldn't make it without your and the others' help.”

Your palm cradles the beat of your existence, the thin fabric of the crop top does little to muffle your heart's clamorous prance.

“Thank you, thank you so much for everything.” your pour as much gratitude from the river coursing through the recesses of your soul in those words. Your chest constricts as you sigh, you remember all the faces that are now known as familiar and random instances buried deep in your memories. Perhaps it's the naturally cold weather of this planet that plays a part, but you furrow your brows as inexplicable sorrow engulfs your heart.

“I, too, hope that you've had a wonderful experience on this planet.”

A much younger you used to judge the victims of stories for choosing to freeze than to flee in the face of candid danger, vowing to not follow in their footsteps should you meet such a predicament one day. Your heart would shatter to incorrigible bits if it hadn't been so viciously twisted, you realize how futile promises are at the thin line separating life and death.

Your body flinches from its hunched position to meet watchful golden eyes, shielded by the door's shadow. You blink a multitude of times, as if that'd make his poised presence disappear, as if that'd affirm that you were simply in the grips of anxiety and Serval would return to reprimand you back to reality.

The warmth drains from your body when he's still there, sitting in front of you with a mocking serenity — you've never hated the vice grip he maintains on his composure more than this moment. Why, how, when and what conjoins his name to frame a myriad of questions, each being answered by none other than you the very next second. Your ears twitch when you catch voices at the end of the hallway, the actual Serval and others must be retreating. You might be a deer inches away from the tiger's jaw, but you'll not go down without a fight, at least.

“If you're planning to scream, I'd advise against that.” Sunday calmly states, your breath catches in your throat. “The choker on your neck has a shock mechanism and it can be activated in various ways. Namely, any time you raise your voice above the coded decibels and the voltage will increase the louder you scream.”

Your hand flies upwards towards the cursed choker and you wrestle a breath in disbelief, you were made a fool of and quite exquisitely. You realize you should've listened to your gut instincts when you still had the choice. Sunday raises a gloved palm when you restlessly tug at the thing, “Don’t bother, it can only be taken off with a password.”

A password only he knows, you conclude. It was not news to you that his sanity is loose from the hinges of his soul, but never would you have expected him to go this far. You glare at your husband, though it looks more like a gazelle's helpless stare as it struggles in the jaws of a predator. The voices from the hallway disappear entirely, you'd told them not to look for you so they'll not return, you feel your eyes moisten as you realize you're stuck alone with Sunday.

“Why—” you choke.

“I understand that you must have a lot of questions,” his words are half resignation and half cheap empathy. “But it is not your turn to speak, for there are more pressing matters at hand.”

Sunday stands up, brows scrunching at the dust floating around the room. “The matter of your possible unfaithfulness is one thing,” his hand grips the handle of the door and you flinch. “But performing in front of so many people without any consideration of how far it'll spread, or choice of attire,” your body erupts in shudders upon feeling his pointed stare, the expanse of your exposure finally registering.

“Truly unbefitting of my spouse.”

But it's not his judging gaze that has your nerves frayed, it's the hints of genuine disappointment that borders on anger leaking through his words that makes you feel parched, makes you want the earth split in half and take you from this situation. Your experience with Sunday has taught you that he has the patience of a saint, but none of those memories reassure you that it's boundless. You realize that you've never actually seen his face contorted in ire, no matter how defiant you'd been. Aeons, you wish it stayed that way forever.

As the shadow of the closing door engulfs your form and leaves the rest to interpretation, the last thing you see are his darkened golden eyes — you're certain that, that was the instance the last spirited part of you died.

rest in peace i guess

#requests: batch two #answered #yandere #yandere sunday #yandere sunday x reader #sunday #sunday x reader #sunday x you #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader

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short-wooloo · 1 year

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I really hate that the fucking human pet guy keeps popping up on SW tumblr

and he has some of the most irritating takes too

like how the Galaxy joining together to fight the sith in ROS shows that centralized government is unnecessary

never mind how the fleet from all over the galaxy was gathered and lead to exegol by Lando, aka was organized by a central leadership and didn't just show up on their own

And never mind how the first order rapidly conquered the galaxy precisely because they wiped out the central government, and in the absence of said central government many worlds adopted "look out for themselves" stances, which only further guaranteed the first order's successful conquest as those worlds had little chance of resisting alone

and that's just one thing, centralized government is needed in SW at the very least for dealing with common threats

threats such as...

What if the first order regroups and keeps fighting?

What if the mandalorians start conquering again?

What if we get another separatist type situation where a bunch of mega corps make a sham government that says its about democracy and self determination but really is just a corporate-military dictatorship?

What if Kanjiclub, the Guavian Death Gang, or other crime factions want to rank up from criminal organizations to actual territorial powers?

in a similar vein, what if the Hutts decide now's the time to make a comeback?

speaking of the hutts, If there’s no centralized government how do you effectively combat slavery? How do you keep slavery illegal?

What if one of the highly aggressive alien species from legends like the Ssi-ruu, the Yeventha, or the Yuuzhan-Vong get brought into canon?

what if the Chiss decide to give galactic conquest a try?

what if the Chiss start conquering worlds to harvest resources to fuel there wars against the Grysk, Vagaari, or other unknown regions powers?

what if the Yinchorri (big aggressive mind-trick immune turtles) start attacking like in legends?

which btw, was only stopped by a collective effort organized by Chancellor Valorum

Or what if stronger planets start bullying/conquering weaker planets, thus encouraging planets to create tangled webs of alliances between each other, and that in turn creates a WWI-type powder keg where a minor dispute between two planets drags their varying networks of allies into a galactic scale war?

Central government would be good for preventing that

it would also be good for enforcing a ban on superweapons and preventing the spread of that technology

very important in the post-ROS galaxy, as planet killers can now be mounted on smaller ships and mass-produced

(Not mine) The villains' plot in *The Phantom Menace* is only possible because Palpatine *takes the central government out of the picture*

and the backstory of SW is the centralized government has worked for several thousand years

so why does a few decades of it being deliberately sabotaged discount the entire concept?

Because they don't like the concept that's why

They are so obviously libertarian

I mean, their whole thesis comes down to "centralized government is unnecessary because if the collective people need some service or task done then people will just do it"

Textbook libertarian crap, the stuff that gets a town taken over by bears

And all the above is just the more dramatic exciting stuff

A central government is essential for mundane things like maintaining a universal galactic currency

Trade agreements

Consistent tax rates

saftey ratings being the same across the galaxy

Maintaining travel and communication infrastructure (eg hyperspace routes, however comms work)

exchange rates for more archaic currencies

#wooloo-writes #wooloo writes #star wars #sw #republic #the republic #republic star wars #the galactic republic #galactic republic #in defense of the republic #chiss #yuuzhan vong #grysk #yeventha #ssi ruu #vagaari

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cattlearts · 9 months

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Horus Heresy EXTREME musings: the canon traitors

STEP ONE. lorgar's journey of self-discovery and healing post-monarchia culminates in him talking to God. A God. The Laughing God, specifically. lorgar becomes clown-lorgar, the largest of all Harlequins. He absconds into the webway with like a hundred men and the rest of the world bearers are instructed to become adept at interpretive dance, and to spread the good word of cegorach.

STEP TWO. fulgrim gets kidnapped by eldrad ulthuan, who was slightly tipsy during their meeting and panicked upon noticing the evil sword. he is now in a looney tunes chase with ferrus manus (not headless).

STEP THREE. angron gets informed he has about fifty years to live. reflecting upon his life and his deeds, he resolves to improve himself in the time that remains. as such, he begins a massacre of any imperial force he comes across on his death-rampage across the stars, with the halcyon dream of killing Big E

STEP FOUR. mortarion has to attend a party with Magnus also in attendance. He pisses them off, and given they are in a particularly bad mood they whip out the sledgehammer revelation of 'youre a psyker too dipshit'. the resulting meltdown has a body count in the millions, occuring over decades and resulting in entire worlds irradiated.

STEP FIVE. konrad gets put in gay baby jail after mauling his brother. imperial jail, especially for a primarch, kinda sucks. it is not an environment conducive to mental wellness. it is, however, an environment conducive to harrowing visions! curze gets some extra insight, at the low low price of the last remaining shreds of his sanity.

STEP SIX. the magnus depression coma occurs directly after nikea, due to big E being a bit more direct in his publicity stunt. the thousand sons are left on prospero with a catatonic primarch and no supervision, hated and reviled by the imperium at large.

STEP SEVEN. perturabo snaps over something small and unbelievably petty - obviously it is just the straw that breaks the camels back, but unfortunately for perty the resulting murder meltdown makes him look unhinged and like he's blowing things way out of proportion. terrified of his own anger, and his daddy's reaction, perturabo follows his instinct, and turtles down - in fact, every iron warrior, everywhere, becomes very entrenched and very stationary.

STEP EIGHT. alpharius xeno girlfriend REAL??? primarch bachelor spotted on Epsilon-342C with giant arachnid, sharing 'romantic dinner' at waterfront. doubts regarding loyalty to imperium and biological compatibility raised by onlookers.

STEP NINE. horus gets radicalised - one of his remembrancers, or astartes, or literally fucking anyone with more than five minutes of access to him introduces him to ideas like 'unions' and 'democracy'. given that horus is incredibly gullible and has no strong personal political ideals, it is laughably easy. he now has different slogans, like 'workers of the galaxy unite', and 'equality or planetary annihilation'. despite this new outlook, he sees nothing wrong with continuing to use a slave army of brainwashed, genetically modified children.

#horus heresy EXTREME #hhe au #wh40k

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morosecloud · 9 months

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i wanna talk about this scene in queen’s shadow that perfectly mirrors padmé’s funeral

“Padmé Amidala was completely still.

The brown halo of her hair spread out around her, softened here and there by white blossoms that had blown through the air to find their rest amongst her curls. Her skin was pale and perfect. Her face was peaceful. Her eyes were closed and her hands were clasped across her stomach as she floated. Naboo carried on without her.

Even now, at the end, she was watched.

It was no more than was to be expected. Ever since she'd entered the arena of planetary politics, her audience had been unceasing. First they had commented on her interests and ideals, then later on her election to queen. Many had doubted her strength in the face of an invasion, when the lives and well-being of her people would be held ransom against her-hers to save if only she would give up her signature-and she had proven them all wrong. She had ruled well. She had grown in wisdom and experience, and had done both rapidly. She had faced the trials of her position unflinching and unafraid. And now, her time was ended.

A small disturbance, the barest movement through the otherwise peaceful water, was Padmé's only warning before her attacker struck.

An arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her down into the clear shallows, holding her there just long enough to let her know that she had been bested.

The Queen of Naboo surfaced, sputtering water in the sunlight as her handmaidens—her friends—laughed around her.”

so clearly there’s a connection between the ends of an era, both for the world/galaxy as a whole and for padmé herself. this scene takes place on padmé’s last day as queen of naboo.

in this scene she’s peaceful by choice; she’s relaxing and waiting for the election results. but then why compare it to her death?

padmé’s funeral is like a marker for the end of the republic as a whole. by the end of the clone wars i’m pretty sure she was one of the only people who still had unwavering faith in the republic that she refused to give up, despite what she’d seen. the jedi were wary, most coruscant citizens were wary, and even though the separatists were losing they had a lot of systems on their side. several clones had either uncovered secrets or deserted, etc etc. so padmé’s funeral is like symbolism for the death of democracy.

and this is especially interesting because after padmé’s term as queen ends, the next queen is someone padmé and all of her friends and bodyguards did NOT vote for and were not happy to see on the throne.

it’s also the death of one version of padmé—the queen— and the birth of the senator. queen’s shadow goes on and on about how different and confusing the senate is and how much padmé has to change and all the political turmoil she gets involved in. the most interesting to me is how upon becoming senator, she was ridiculed by news outlets, ridiculed by fellow senators, mistrusted by bail organs and mon mothma, and made out to be a little, foolish girl under someone else’s control. much of the same as when she was queen! but as we see in clone wars, padmé builds a reputation for herself and is among the most trusted of all senators.

so why was this change represented with a parallel to her death?

i’m guessing it can be interpreted two ways. upon dying, padmé was laid to rest with recall to the most peaceful she’d ever been; no longer a queen, and not yet a senator; just at peace, with the people she trusted most. the scene abruptly ends with one of her handmaidens pulling her under. it’s calling us out of the connection and reminding us she still has a long way to go before she can really have peace. the other is that taking on the role of senator, of joining the republic when it was so clearly dying, was a way of killing padmé in and of itself. to fight for something that will fall in the end would slowly kill her.

anyways. i love padmé and i believe she made the right choices again and again, but she, just like everyone else, was doomed from the beginning

#i haven’t read queen’s peril or queen’s hope so no spoilers pls #but idk. is this anything? maybe there’s another way to look at it #queen’s shadow #naboo handmaidens #star wars #padmé amidala

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thinkingboy101 · 1 year

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I said i was gonna talk about Primordial lore, and i shall talk about Primordial lore

Let's start with the 1st of 4 major factions:

The Stellar Commonwealth

The Stellar Commonwealth is a union of 4 gorvenments: the Republic of United Nations (R.U.N), Solar Roman Empire (S.R.E), Holy Mortal Kingdom (H.M.K) and the United Republics of Kilenios(U.R.K), we'll talk about them later.

The Stellar Commonwealth was formed by the Solar Emperor Maximus and was built upon a core belief: Synthesism.

Synthesism states that every single belief has it's opposite, the anti-belief and by combining the "good ideas" of both would result in the true one, the only that works not only for mankind but for every single sentient species in the Milky Way galaxy and beyond.

The Commonwealth is capitalist, it is socialist, it is democratic and also authoritarian. It is everything and is damn proud of it.

Now let's talk about the members of the Commonwealth.

Humanity is split into two: those who consider themselves to be part of colonies or of the renmants of 21st century Earthling nations and those who consider themselves to be the sucessors of ancient empires. The R.U.N is for the former and the S.R.E is for the latter.

R.U.N fights for Mankind's greatest creation: Democracy. Their objective is to spread such gift across the stars using the Commonwealth’s military might and diplomacy, sometimes. Their soldiers wear various types of camouflage and their vehicles and guns are inspired by those from the 1980's to the 2000's but with futuristic elements added such as holographic sights, wrist-mounted computers and railguns.

While the S.R.E has "Roman" in its name, it isn’t entirely Roman, they have Persians, Byzantines, Greeks and even Samurais figthing for Earth, the Dux and for their civilized, alien friends. The S.R.E believes that everyone should follow the "True Belief" and is willing to use force to do so. Their soldiers wear ancient armor and mettalic masks with glowing visors, the armor was also upgraded to feature mordern stuff like life support systems, ammo pouches, radios and etc. While they use the same vehicles as the R.U.N they add a bunch of golden ornaments, shields and banners to them. Also they like melee.

Then comes Humanity's greatest ally: The Civiti, an alien species who resemble an anthropomorphic version of several species of Earth's insects. They blindly follow the H.M.K's current monarch as their gods have been long gone, stuck or dead in their homeworld's, Mortalis, core. Sacrificing themselves to stop the advance of an unstoppable parasite called the Seed. They are partly inspired by some aspects from Hollow Knight. Basically, they are a bunch of alien bugs in Renaissance-like armor using the magical tears of their missing gods to power their technology, on an eternal crusade agaisnt the parasite that ruined their homes and the ones who awakened it: themselves (More on that later)

Then we have Humanity second best (and unwillingly) ally: the Khileni. An alien species native to the radioactive world of Kilenios. They are anthropomorphic and resemble Earth's mammals, primarily wolves, foxes and red pandas. Sadly though, they are always wearing a gas mask alongside hazmat suits or military uniforms. Their homeworld is a gigantic wasteland covered in the ruins of old battles and forts-turned-to-cities. They have been conquered by the Commonwealth a long time ago and has been loyal to it since then, although it is mostly because they need the Commonwealth to survive the other, bigger, threats on the Milky Way. They have a dieselpunk aesthetic and their uniforms are inspired by Earth's armies from the late 19th century to the mid 20th century (1850's to 1950's). And the only reason they exist is because i thought that furry stuff needed a little more edgyness.

The R.U.N and the Khileni are for the "average joe", their soldiers aren't that strong and rely on their gear and weapons to do the job, but whereas the R.U.N uses special forces and combined arms assault to win their wars, the Khileni like to dig trenches and charge at a bunch of active bunkers.

The H.M.K and S.R.E are for the "Cool guys", they look cool, they prefer melee and are EXTREMELLY zealous, fighting for their rulers and their species. Whereas the S.R.E combines mordern weapons and tactics with old ones, the H.M.K combines magic with technology.

#sci fantasy #scifiseries #original writing #original creation #original concept #new writter #writers on tumblr #writer

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xasha777 · 1 month

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In the year 2424, the Salian dynasty ruled over the United Sectors of the galaxy, a regime known for its advanced technology and formidable warriors. Among them was Commander Lyria Sol, a decorated officer of the Salian fleet. She was the epitome of the dynasty's might, wearing the iconic red exo-armor that was both a symbol of rank and a highly advanced combat suit.

Commander Sol was the head of the elite unit known as the Red Sentinels, protectors of the dynasty's sovereignty and enforcers of its edicts. Her suit, a marvel of engineering, was equipped with an AI co-pilot named Ares, who was not only her tactical advisor but also her most trusted confidant.

The Salian dynasty had long been at peace, but whispers of rebellion had begun to spread across the sectors. A group known as the Celestial Alliance challenged the dynasty's authority, seeking to end its rule and establish a new order. The Red Sentinels were deployed to quash these insurgents, but during the conflicts, Commander Sol encountered a rebel leader who shared the truth about the Salian rule — it was not the benevolent governance that she had been led to believe, but an oppressive regime that had risen to power through manipulation and force.

Torn between her loyalty to the dynasty and the unsettling truths revealed by the rebels, Commander Sol embarked on a clandestine mission. Ares, her AI, had been quietly gathering information, and together they uncovered a hidden archive that chronicled the Salian rise to power — and the dark secrets they had buried.

The revelations shook Commander Sol to her core, but she was a warrior of honor. She knew what she had to do. In a bold move, she allied with the Celestial Alliance, providing them with the evidence they needed to expose the Salian dynasty's corruption to the galaxy.

The tide of battle shifted as sectors began to rise in support of the Alliance. With Commander Sol's strategic genius and the indomitable spirit of the rebels, the Salian dynasty's hold on the galaxy began to waver. Battles raged, stars dimmed, and the future of the United Sectors hung in the balance.

It was during the final confrontation, the Battle of Orion's Rift, that Commander Sol faced off against the Salian's supreme ruler. Her red exo-armor, once a symbol of her allegiance to the dynasty, now stood as a beacon of rebellion. The battle was fierce, but in the end, the commander's resolve and the righteousness of her cause prevailed.

The Salian dynasty fell, and from its ashes rose a new era of freedom and democracy. Commander Sol, once the dynasty's most loyal soldier, became the guardian of the new Alliance, her red armor a reminder of the price of peace and the importance of vigilance against tyranny.

And so, the legacy of the Red Sentinels lived on, not as enforcers of oppression, but as defenders of liberty, with Commander Lyria Sol leading them into a hopeful future.

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dolllikelove · 3 months

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Helldivers 2’s Armor Types And Stats Demystified

Third-person co-op shooter Helldivers 2 not only wants you to spread democracy across the galaxy, it also wants you to protect it. And having the right armor is necessary to protect yourself, so you’re not just saving yourself by equipping the right armor for your needs, you’re saving Super Earth. Read more... http://dlvr.it/T3Kmqf

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gamersguide · 3 months

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HELLDIVERS 2 | WORTH THE HYPE?

What’s New:

Remember the grueling top-down battles of the original Helldivers, where friendly fire was a constant hazard and alien hordes threatened the very fabric of democracy? Bring that, Helldivers 2 has arrived, blasting onto the scene with a third-person perspective and enough explosions to make Michael Bay blush.

Prepare to ditch the bird’s-eye view and go headfirst into the action with a fresh third-person perspective. This shift offers increased spatial awareness and more precise aiming, letting you rain down democracy with newfound accuracy (though friendly fire remains a delightful possibility). But the evolution doesn’t stop there, here are some notable points:

From demolition specialists wielding rocket launchers to nimble scouts with cloaking tech, you’ll find a playstyle to suit your tactical preference.

Deploy drones for recon, call in devastating artillery strikes, or unleash tactical nukes (remember, collateral damage is just a minor setback in the fight for freedom).

Explore sprawling planets with diverse environments, tackle intricate missions from rescuing civilians to eradicating entire bug nests, and feel the weight of defending a galaxy on your shoulders.

As you rank up, unlock new weapons, perks, and customization options to personalize your Helldiver and become an even more effective agent of democracy (and explosions).

Though, this isn’t a walk in the park (or, rather, a stroll across an alien-infested jungle planet). Be prepared for:

The brutal difficulty: Friendly fire? Check. Unforgiving enemies? Check. Missions that test your teamwork and tactical prowess? Triple check but the challenge is part of the thrill.

Teamwork above all else: Communication and coordination are your weapons against overwhelming odds. Lone wolves need not apply, unless they fancy being vaporized by friendly fire.

Satirical humor: The tongue-in-cheek narrative and over-the-top announcements poke fun at military jargon and bureaucracy, adding a layer of dark humor to the intense action. Remember, even democracy needs a laugh now and then.

So, is Helldivers 2 your ticket to explosive, satirical adventures across the galaxy? If you crave a challenging, cooperative shooter with strategic depth and a dash of humor, then democracy (and friendly fire) awaits!

Theme:

The sequel to the beloved co-op shooter elevates the experience to a third-person perspective, throwing you headfirst into the fight for galactic democracy. But fear not, citizen! While the explosions, friendly fire, and humor remain (darker than ever), the thematic core and gameplay loop have evolved, offering a deeper dive into the satirical lens while demanding more strategic nuance.

Helldivers 2 amplifies the original’s satirical take on bureaucracy and blind patriotism. You’re a Helldiver, a cog in the machine of the “Super Earth” megacorporation, spreading their brand of “democracy” across the galaxy. The narrative winks at military jargon and propaganda, highlighting the absurdity of war and blind obedience. However, beneath the humor lies a genuine critique of authoritarianism and the cost of maintaining order.

Gameplay:

The shift to third-person changes the game. You feel the heat of battle closer, aiming becomes more intuitive, and tactical options expand. Gone are the days of pixel-perfect grenades; now, you lob them with satisfying heft, aiming for maximum strategic impact. Each of the five new classes plays differently, demanding mastery of unique weapons and abilities.

Speaking of strategy, it’s more crucial than ever. Larger maps and intricate missions require careful planning and coordination. Deploy drones for recon, unleash tactical nukes with caution (friendly fire, remember?), and call in artillery strikes to clear the way. Every action has consequences, forcing you to think not just of firepower, but of positioning, cover, and objective completion.

The difficulty hasn’t softened – in fact, it might have gotten sharper. Helldivers 2 is a test of teamwork and skill. One wrong move can spell disaster for your squad, and friendly fire remains a hilarious (and sometimes frustrating) reality. But within the challenge lies immense satisfaction. Mastering the mechanics, coordinating with your squad, and achieving victory against overwhelming odds feels deeply rewarding.

Know More

Originally published at GamersGuide

#helldivers #helldivers 2 #game guide #game review

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megatome · 4 months

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twitch_live

Playin' HELLDIVERS 2 and spreading MANAGED DEMOCRACY across the galaxy in the name of SUPER EARTH. come on, there's room in the superdreadnought for everyone!

#video games #streaming #livestreaming #twitch #small streamer #trans #helldivers #furry #signal boost

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gaeilgeoirgay · 3 years

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Posadh Eagraithe

This was one of the most popular oneshots of my Pride series so I hope you enjoy it :)

Ao3 Link

Summary- Din's Council want him to get married. Except Din is aromantic and he's not interested. Enter Boba Fett.

Din sighs as he settles himself in the council chambers. The throne is surprisingly comfortable, which he appreciates when the meetings drag on. The meeting today is about an offer they’ve received from the New Republic- namely, whether or not Mandalore as a whole will join them. He knows that they joined the Old Republic when the dar’manda New Mandalorians were in charge, but he doesn’t personally think it would be a good idea for the new Mandalore they are building. He serves his people though, and it will be their decision.

The Clan and House alor’e file into the room and take their designated places. Din had learned the hard way that seating had to be assigned carefully after the alor’e of Clan Onyo and Rau had started a fist fight with each other. Twice. In ten minutes.

Din straightens and waits for everyone to take their seats. The Armourer is at his right and he bows his head slightly. He may be Mand’alor but she is an Armourer. More importantly, she is the leader of his tribe. “Su cuy. I have given you a week to speak with your aliit about the New Republics offer. Today, we will decide what to do based on their answers. Alor be Skirata. What have you decided?” Din says, wasting no time. “Clan Skirata votes to not join them.” Kal Skirata says. Din nods and moves on to the next clan.

It appears his people share Din’s opinions. They’re overwhelmingly in favour of staying out of the New Republic. “Alright, we’re not joining the New Republic. What do you propose we do about them?”Ketsu Onyo asks and Din sighs again. He likes Ketsu but she has a knack for asking questions he doesn’t have an answer for. “I’m not sure yet, but we definitely shouldn’t slam the door in their faces. I’m open to ideas.” He replies anyways. “Like you said, Mand’alor, we should keep our options open. How about an alliance? As narudar, until the Empire is completely rooted out. Or for things like hyperspace lanes or goods we don’t already have access too.” Sabine Wren suggests. Din definitely likes Sabine. She’s whipsmart and always has good ideas that are actually relevant to the conversation. Unlike some people.

“The Republic is worth nothing to us! We have allies already- the Tattooinian lanes are open to us, Sorgan, Nevarro and Stewjon supply us with food and we can take care of the Empire ourselves.” Bo-Katan snaps. There it is. “Yes, we do, However, the New Republic is currently the largest political alliance in the galaxy. We have our own political alliance but it’s easier if they aren’t our enemies. There’s no point in making them turn against us, when they don’t generally affect us.” Din says patiently. He doesn’t know how he hasn’t started his own fistfight with Bo-Katan Kryze. He admires his self-restraint sometimes.

A gleam enters Bo-Katan’s eyes and Din pales beneath his helmet. She’s stopped trying to challenge him physically for the throne but he knows its only because the rest of the Mando’ade have sworn to him. “Well, how will the Republic trust us? Our Council isn’t elected and we technically live under an oligarchy. The Republic practices democracy and as far as they’re concerned, you’re ruling alone without any other Mando’ade having the same social and political power that you do.” She says smugly. Oh no.

The only person with the same status as the Mand’alor is the Rid’alor. Din is aromantic. He has never planned on finding a riddur, maybe just finding someone who would raise ade with him, but without a romantic relationship. If Bo-Katan suggests herself as rid’alor, then dignified king or not, Din will throw himself out the window.

Fenn Rau picks up on the implications too and traditional bastard that he is, decides it’s a great idea. Sabine and Retsu seem sympathetic but they’re outvoted. “Alor’e, I understand that we must appear balanced to the Republic but I am sol’karta. I have no need for a riddur.” Din says, a final objection. That softens a few alor’e but Bo-Katan remains unremoved. “You’ve got a week to pick someone, Djarin. Then the Council will choose. They have to be Mando’ade- we’re trying to show them we’re united.” She says, voice hard. Din ignores the technical disrespect and finally just agrees. If he can pick, maybe he can ask another sol’karta Mandalorian.

Suddenly he gets an idea and grins. He has the perfect person in mind.

Boba yawns behind his helmet as court finishes up. Ruling Tattooine is exhausting. His comm buzzes and he discreetly checks it. It’s Din so he motions Fennec to take the throne for a few minutes and leaves to answer it. “Hey Din. How’s ruling Manda’yaim going?” He asks. Din also seems exhausted. “Meh. How’s Tattooine?” Din replies in turn. “Same old. What’s the comm for?” Din and him chat often but this wasn’t expected. “You’re aromantic, right? Same as me.” Din asks and Boba blinks, taken aback. First of all, he didn’t know Din was aromantic and second of all, why ask?

“Yeah, I am. Why do you ask?” Boba says, genuinely curious. The smile spreading across Din’s uncovered face is downright wicked. “The Council, more specifically Kryze, want me to marry another Mandalorian to show a united front to the Republic. Pretty sure that Kryze is gunning for Rid’Alor if she can’t get Mand’alor. I’ve got a week to pick someone or else the Council chooses.” Din says, the smile turning slightly maniacal. “And you thought of me?” Boba double checks.

“Yep. You don’t have to agree but I thought it over. They cant disagree on the basis you’re not Mandalorian, because you are and the Republic knows that. You’re also a fellow king/ruler so it strengthens our alliances. Your buir and ba’buir were both Mand’alor at some point so it shows that I have the support of my predecessors allit. You’re also aro so I don’t have to worry about my spouse wanting a romantic relationship. We’re already good friends so it won’t change much and my son loves you. We actually like each other so its not an unhappy arranged marriage.” Din hesitates in his list before he quickly adds his next pro.

“If we want to add sex into it, I think you’re hot and I wouldn’t mind. That part depends on your opinion though. And possibly the best part- Bo-Katan is going to have a heart attack and Han Solo will have to pretend he doesn’t hate you at diplomatic functions because the Republic doesn’t want to make Mandalore mad.” He finishes. Boba’s surprise has turned to genuine mirth. Din has clearly thought this out, and it makes sense. Boba isn’t exactly averse to sleeping with Din either- he can admit that the beroya is very attractive. "I'll set my course for Manda'yaim then. See you soon, cyare.”

Din is completely right. Kryze looks like she's just eaten several lemons at their riddurok and her face lands itself a spot in Boba's cherished memories. Din is also very experienced when it comes to the bedroom and Boba enjoys himself thoroughly. The best part to their marriage, however, is at the Republic's ball to celebrate their new alliance with Mandalore.

Han Solo does a doubletake when he sees Boba and he spits out his drink. Leia Organa comes over to talk to Din and Solo looks like he’s barely restraining himself from shooting Boba in front of half the galaxy’s politicians. Boba makes sure to be a perfect gentleman, the very picture of a Rid’Alor and Solo’s veins nearly explode.

All in all, he thinks he likes this friends-with-benefits things. The benefits just happen to include pissing off Han Solo, pissing off Bo-Katan Kryze and most importantly, his and Din’s respective Court’s will never nag them about spouses again. Manda, Din is a genius. Even if marrying him means Boba occasionally has to coax a toddler off the ceiling.

#aromantic din djarin #aromantic boba fett #bobadin #the mandalorian #anti bo katan kryze #sort of #din definitely doesn't like her

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untilenglandisnomore · 3 years

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PadMay 2021 – Day 2: How should Padmé be remembered?

(rocks up a week late with a chai latte) Played fast and loose with the word “should” here and ended up thinking a lot about Imperial propaganda.

Summary: Imperial Supreme Commander Darth Vader is sent to investigate accusations of a university lecturer spreading treasonous Rebel propaganda. A class on the life and work of Naboo’s former Queen Amidala brings back painful memories.

As far as punishments go, it would appear on the face of it that Darth Vader had lucked out. Being sent to assist the ISB might be painfully boring but at least it wasn’t painful. It seemed almost incongruous to the Emperor’s rage at his apprentice, once again, letting the Rebels slip through his fingers.

Vader knew better. Pain, he was used to. Pain, he could tolerate. Wasting his skills and time on pointless political suppression, investigating academics for spreading Rebel lies irked him immensely. The Emperor’s way of reminding him that he was replaceable, disposable.

And to rub salt in his wounds, he was commanded to investigate the faculty at the University of Theed. To be mere clicks away from his beloved’s final resting place was a pointed twist of the knife.

The quicker he got it over with, the quicker he could get back to hunting down the Rebels, so the Sith pushed all thoughts of her out of his mind.

Or at least, that was his intention. Begrudgingly, he followed the ISB Agent into the lecture hall. The Agent was to lead the interrogation, Vader was there to provide leverage.

The class had already started. Fifty pairs of eyes turned on them and the lecturer stopped abruptly.

“Can I help you?” she asked, a strong voice despite the fear spiking through her blood at the sight of Vader.

The Agent gave her shark-tooth smile. “Agent Elliot, ISB. We’ll just be sitting in your lecture today. Making sure everything is up the standards of our great Emperor.”

The way he cocked his head towards Vader made it clear it was not a request.

The lecturer stiffened. “What does education have to do with security?” she asked.

“Sedition,” said the Agent, “is a crime.”

She gave them a flat look. “Fine. Take a seat. Be sure to let us know when the truth runs up against the Emperor’s delicate sensibilities,” she snarked.

Vader felt a brief bit of surprise at her insolence and then almost amused. He really did not like Agent Elliot. There was something about the steel in her eye that made him wonder if all the Naboo were just like that.

They stood at the back of the hall, Elliot pointedly taking notes on his datapad, and Vader glowering, and the lecturer got back to her class.

“Okay hopefully you’ve all read chapters five, nine and ten on the Invasion of Naboo and the Clone Wars.”

There was some half-hearted murmuring across the room. The lecturer rolled her eyes.

“Come on guys. Fine. Does anyone in this room not know who Queen Amidala was?”

There was a smattering of laughter and snorts of disbelief.

Darth Vader didn’t hear the lecturer’s reply because what was left of his body went numb and a distant ringing filled up his ears. He stood frozen as the lecturer set up a holoprojector and suddenly it was her. Her face, lit up and larger than life before his eyes. Her voice breaking through the ringing in his ears and bouncing around his skull.

“Like so many of the people that we tell ourselves we're here to serve, Teckla lives in a district that rarely has electricity and running water as a result of the war.”

Vader could feel his heart stop in his chest. His mind went completely blank. He watched, as if from a very far distance, as the holoprojector floated up off the desk, crumpled up like a piece of flimsi, and then shattered into dust.

Stillness fell over the room as all the students and the lecturer stared at the spot where the holoprojector had sat seconds prior.

The lecturer seemed to recover first, giving herself a little shake and pointedly not looking at Vader.

“Well,” she said, “I’ve got printed copies of this speech on flimsi,” she handed out sheets for students to pass around while they started to whisper to each other, furtive glances in Vader’s direction.“So everyone take a couple of minutes to read the speech and take some notes.”

The students followed their instructions as the lecturer awkwardly scooped up the remains of her holoprojector and deposited them into a bin.

“Okay,” she said at last, “what does this speech tell us about the Clone Wars?”

A handful of students raised their hands, the lecturer pointed to a bothan girl, one of the few non-humans in the class.

“The war was causing lots of suffering and the Senate weren’t doing a good job stopping it. This is why the Emperor had to take over, to ensure peace.”

The lecturer glanced over at where Agent Elliot was standing and didn’t try to hide the roll of her eyes.

“I suppose it could be interpreted that way. Senator Amidala spoke out against corruption in the Senate many times.”

“She didn’t support the war,” said another student, a human boy, “doesn’t that make her a Separatist?”

“And she signed the bill asking the Emperor to hand power back to the Senate. Isn’t that treason?” added his friend.

Another disdainful eye roll in the ISB Agent’s direction as the lecturer trotted out the party line through gritted teeth.

“Senator Amidala was a close, personal friend of the Emperor. The Emperor supports democracy and free speech, but order had to be restored after the war. Senator Amidala was a great leader and surely would have supported the Empire had she lived long enough to see the excellent things it has achieved.”

“Professor?” another student put up her hand. “I was going to do my paper on Senator Amidala and the days around the rise of the Empire but there’s hardly any sources? Should I pick another topic? Do you know how she died?”

Genuine curiosity broke through the lecturer’s stony façade but as she opened her mouth to answer, she yelped and jumped back as her entire desk broke in half.

She stared at the desk. She stared at the rows of students gaping in shock. She stared at Vader.

Her eyes narrowed minutely at the Sith and then, apparently throwing all caution and good sense to the wind, she continued her answer.

“It’s a matter of some… contention,” she started slowly. “Senator Amidala was last seen at her home on Coruscant several hours after the formation of the Empire. She took her personal ship, and left Coruscant. There’s no further sources on where she was or what happened to her.”

The lecture hall felt very cold all of a sudden. Despite the ominous feeling in her gut, the lecturer continued.

“Official Imperial sources reported her death as an act of terrorism by a Jedi. They claim she died a martyr for the Empire.”

“And you don’t think that’s true?” asked a student. It was a fair question. The disbelief was clear in her tone.

The lecturer glanced over again to Vader and the Agent. She shrugged.

“Without any evidence to the contrary, it might as well be true. I think her actions as Queen and as Senator tell us exactly what Amidala would have thought of the Empire.” She ignored the twitch of the Agent’s brow at her tone, and pointed to a student. “Yes, Ilya.”

The class continued, moving on to discuss the boring, political, parts of the Clone Wars which Vader, for one, had no desire to relive.

None of it was new to him anyway, so he allowed himself to zone out the class, gingerly picking through the whirlwind of his thoughts.

Her. Somehow of all the days, of all the classes, they were discussing her.

He briefly mused on whether it was the Force, or his own cursed bad luck. Or, more cynically, if this was engineered by his Master, as part of his punishment.

They remembered her, quoted her speeches and still respected her as a leader, as Queen and as Senator. And yet they knew nothing about her.

They didn’t know that her laughter was musical when she was happy, and a graceless snigger when he made a particularly lewd joke. They didn’t know how the air in a room seemed to change when she walked into it, like all the atoms had ceased moving. Or how it changed again, when she spoke, always uncompromising and direct, like static electricity crackled between her sentences. They didn’t know all the good she could have done. Would have done.

He had robbed the galaxy of her blinding, beautiful presence. She was the only good thing left and he killed her and it was all his fault.

A blaring alarm shook him out of his reverie as students started to pack up their bags and awkwardly file out the door past him, shooting him apprehensive glances as they went.

The girl from before, who had asked… who had asked about that, was loitering behind to approach her teacher.

“Um,” she started, “so what should I do my paper on? So many of the books in the library have been taken out by the new censorship laws, it’s so hard to find good sources.”

The lecturer flashed her student a smile. “It just so happens that the Senator Amidala’s father used to work at this university, he’s an old friend and he dropped off some of the Senator’s old memoirs.”

She went to her bag and pulled out a datapad. “It’s all been copied to the holonet, and,” she rolled her eyes in Vader’s direction, once again demonstrating a remarkable lack of fear for her life, “edited to remove anything that could be interpreted as anti-Imperial. There’s lots of good anecdotes from her time as Senator, and a fair few political essays.”

They started to talk further about the student’s paper but Vader wasn’t listening, his legs moving before he was fully conscious of it, coming to a stop in front of the lecturer and snatching the datapad from her hand. She gave him an unimpressed glare and he was suddenly overcome with a need to explain himself.

“The ISB will need to review this,” he said stiffly, “for evidence.” He abruptly turned on his heel and walked out the room, nearly running over Agent Elliot in the corridor.

“Other than her having an attitude problem, there’s not much to go on here, she’s not distributing illegal material as far as we can see,” said the Agent. “What’s that?” He asked, pointing to the datapad in Vader’s hand.

“Nothing that concerns you,” replied Vader, and stalked away in a flurry of black fabric and disdain.

It wasn’t until he was back in his chambers aboard the Executor that he dared take out the datapad again, too often surrounded by nosy Imperial officials and gossipy stormtroopers.

He flicked it to a random page and at the first line he read, let out a snort of amusement, the sound odd and distorted through his vocoder.

“In a democracy, citizens have a duty to stand up against tyranny. In order to benefit from the rights and freedoms that democracy brings, citizens have an obligation to be vigilant against the rise of authoritarianism.”

This, thought Vader, was definitely not Imperial approved material. Distantly, he wondered if he should report it, this incendiary material was on the holonet, anyone could read it.

People would know what she thought. More would remember her as a traitor.

He preferred to imagine that he could have convinced her, that she would have come to see that the Empire was necessary. But. He quietly knew the truth. She was stalwart in her beliefs and a hell of a lot more stubborn than he was.

She would have been proud to be labelled a traitor by this Empire. She would hate to be remembered as a martyr for it.

She always did have the last word, Vader thought dryly, resolving to conveniently forget about the memoirs being on the holonet, and settled onto a chair to read every word she had written.

#padmay #padmay2021 #Darth Vader #padmé amidala #vaderdala #just some fresh nonsense from my brain prison #I definitely think some of my uni lecturers would have been totally unphased #by a robot breaking their desk in half with psychic powers #Anakin skywalker #anidala #sort of

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niqhtlord01 · 4 years

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Humans are weird: Death of an empire is the birth of a hundred more

The skies were burning. Dift watched the skies of the human homeworld in awe. Though the sky was covered with dense cloud cover and blotted out the rays of the nearby sun the sky was nonetheless bright with reds and oranges as if it was a summer evening on his own homeworld.

The streaks of burning human ships finally losing their battle to the planets gravity fell like fireballs racing across the sky leaving a trail of burning wreckage in their wake that gave the clouds their coloring. From atop the massive imperial palace which was located in the city Dift believed was once called “Cairo” he could not picture a more welcoming sight to mark the end of tyranny. The Terran Reformation had been the bane of the galaxy for decades. Ever since humans obtained faster than light travel they had spread like a plague across a hundred worlds and carved themselves and empire. Their leader, emperor Asher Galvoc had forged humanity into a single engine of conquest with dedication placed towards military service with the result being numerous border conflicts with the surrounding galactic governments. After several years of human aggression several systems banded together and forged the Union of Stars to counteract the human aggression. They combined all of their forces into a single massive strike force and used cloaking technology to sneak past the borders of the human domain until they had arrived at the very heart of the retched empire. They struck like lightning on a clear summer day and wiped away what orbital defense and ships guarded the planet before launching a full invasion force. Dift had led his Kavaran brothers into battle against the imperial palace that he now stood upon with the mission to secure the emperor himself. The stories of humanities fanaticism do not even compare to the madness he had witnessed. Countless humans, soldier and civilian, threw themselves at Dift and his brothers as they fought their way into the palace. At every hallway laid a barricade of blank faced royal guards, in every room a servant armed with a knife or pistol ready to take as many of his brothers as they could, he had even witnessed a human child no older than five solar cycles walk up to one of his brothers with a hand grenade and detonate it taking its own life and the life of three of his brothers. With each conflict Dift became increasingly worried as time was working against them. He had received reports from commanders in orbit that human forces were being recalled from all fronts to defend their emperor and that if they did not obtain him within hours then all would be lost. Several barricades later Dift and his brothers had finally stormed the throne room at the very top of the palace. The room was massive in size with high ceilings vaulting upwards and a long red carpet leading to the throne itself. Standing at the base of the throne flanked by the last remnants of his royal guard stood the emperor himself. He made no attempt to hide or cower but clutched a sword in his right hand. Before the two sides could attack each other the room exploded inwards as a shot down human fighter crashed into the outer palace walls. Whatever weapons the fighter had been carrying went off upon impact triggering a massive explosion that caused nearly half of the ceiling to collapse on to the emperor. As the dust settled Dift had his brothers begin sifting through the rubble until finally finding their prize. Dift knelt down to human leader, his once imposing visage now gone leaving a broken dying man. “Die knowing that your empire dies with you.” Dift had spoken as he saw the last embers behind Asher’ s eyes begin to fade. Reaching out and grabbing Dift Asher pulled him close and whispered back. “You...will...wish...I...had lived...” then took his final breath and passed on. Dift shook off the dead man’s arm and took a step back. From the gaping hole he could see transports slowly descending to retrieve the Union’s soldiers now that their task was complete. He should have felt a sense of victory, of righteousness, something noble in toppling the greatest threat to peace among the stars. But as Dift ascended the boarding ramp all he could think of was the dying words of the once emperor and if they were those of a last act of defiance, or a premonition of things to come... -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(4 years later) Dift shuffled in place, his honor guard uniform uncomfortable and itchy as he waited to appear before the broadcast. An attendant motioned for him and he stepped out from behind the curtain and on to the stage as the studio crowd began clapping and cheering. The camera drones circled around him as he smiled and waved to the crowd, his picture being broadcast not only across his homeworld but to several other Union planets.

As the applause died down Dift took a seat next to the shows host. This appearance along with several others were part of the propaganda tour he had been assigned to for the last few months meant to boost morale and encourage recruitment. He had been taken from the frontlines to perform this duty given his previous actions years earlier at the human palace. “Thanks for joining us commander Dift,” the host began outstretching an arm which Dift shook, ”it’s a real honor to have you on the show.” “Well I am a huge fan.” “Really now?” “Actually, not even a bit.” Dift smiled as he looked at the shocked host. “I will just use any excuse to come home and sleep on a real bed again.” That drew a round of laughter from the crowd and he smiled again. The two then began talking about the general state of affairs in the galaxy, pop-culture, and so on.

Despite the seemingly fluid nature of the discussion it was all a sham. A carefully laid out script made up by military command meant to show a sense of stability and calmness when the reality of the situation was far from it. The truth was the Union was on its last legs, desperately holding on to what territory it had left. Dift couldn’t help but let his mind wander as the host broke into a long story about how things could have gone so wrong. He wagered it was right after the human emperor died things began turning for the worst. The Union’ s forces were able to safely escape the encroaching human forces and return back to their respective territories. The Union’s leaders expected humanity would send a delegation to discuss terms of surrender or at the very least a ceasefire to the ongoing conflict. Months had passed without a single word from the Terran Reformation and the news their informants were brining back made no sense at all. Several members of Asher’ s inner circle had gathered after his death to elect a new emperor. Many of the Union suspected that the former emperor’s favorite general, general Qwint Javal, would be chosen without delay. Unexpectedly several other figures rose to challenge the general’ s claim to the throne.

General David Holden was one of the first to challenge Qwint’s claim. Holden was described as the new generation of generals that had now joined the old guard. He had gathered them into a strong faction and began motioning that the empire should be turned into a democracy. The industrialist Heather Windwall was the second challenger. Controlling nearly 75% of the empire’s industrial capacity she had been kept in check by Galvoc’ s political maneuvering to ensure she was too busy with her corporations internal matters to concentrate her power base. With Galvoc‘s passing Windwall had stabilized her holdings and solidified her power base across several dozen worlds whose entire population was employed by her companies. A surprising third faction was the remnants of the royal guard under their commander Jacob Hashmall. Many had assumed that the royal guard would stand with Qwint’s claim and were rightly surprised when their commander denounced Qwint as a traitor. Hashmall argued that the general had let their emperor die by leaving their homeworld so undefended and deemed him unfit to carry the same mantle. It was not long after before more claimants began appearing from the human leadership until where there had been one now there were dozens. The debates seemed like they would go on forever until General Qwint attempted to seize power by force by having several squads of troopers surround the gathering. The move backfired as each party had come prepared for betrayal. Hashmall had a private security force waiting nearby that rushed in and extracted her, several members of the troopers defected to Holden’s side and aided him escape the palace and back to his ship in orbit, and Hashmall’s guards were well enough equipped that they simply fought their way out. The result of the action was Qwint securing claim to the throne and homeworld of the Terran Reformation along with several surrounding systems. He made public broadcasts denouncing the other inner circle members as traitors and to be hunted down and brought before him. Things fell into chaos soon after the proclamation. From her headquarters and surrounded by her own private military Windfall declared herself the true empress and formed the Terran Conglomerate. Holden rallied several bands of Reformations armies and fleets to his side and declared the formation of the Terran Republic. His popularity ensure himself to be named the first president and his vows of fairness and equality captivated millions. As for Hashmall he took control of the former emperor’s flagship the Midnight Vail and set off into unknown space vowing revenge against all traitors and enemies of the true empire. That had all been three years ago and since then madness had ensued. The Terran Reformation split into dozens of pocket empires each fighting with each other. Where once the Union leaders had been able to predict humanities intensions under the leadership of Galvoc now they were confounded as they were hit by a hundred different threats.

The Terran Conglomerate had turned to increasing their workforce by enslaving surrounding alien species for their factories. Raider fleets prowled between stars as entire colonies and worlds would go dark with their passing. Without limitations now of the Reformation Conglomerate scientists have been conducting horrific experiments on not only aliens but on humans as well as they seek to push the bounds of their knowledge what ever the cost. No method has been deemed restricted to their expansion and Union worlds that did not submit to their rule quickly found themselves being bombed with various gas and nerve agents slaughtering millions.

The Terran Republic was at war with several other human factions along with dealing with intense internal struggles. President Holden had attempted to form a coalition of different parties for his government but found that they quickly became roadblocked and corrupted ensuring that nothing was ever done. Increasingly Holden has been giving himself more executive power in an attempt to bypass the congress which has resulted in a civil war within a civil war as his enemies now proclaim him to be making a crown of his own.

The remnants of the Terran Reformation under emperor Javal have remained the military autocracy it was before. Dissent is stamped out without hesitation and much of the populace lives in the shadow of enforcers weapons. Though not as popular as his predecessor Javal is still an ample military tactician and began making up for territory lost by other factions by conquering new star systems. With Union forces stretched thin to combat numerous threats the Terran Reformation was easily able to invade several systems before meeting stiff resistance which has now turned into a grinding war of attrition.

From his flagship Hasmall has formed the “Sons of Galvoc”. Much less a state the Sons of Galvoc operate more as a terrorist faction with fanatical loyalty to their former leader. The sons attracted a considerable following among the Galvoc loyalists who now worship him as a god of humanity. The group strikes seemingly at random targets of every faction. Devastating bombings of military and civilian installations have been claimed by the group as they appeared to only value the body count of their actions. With all that had happened Dift could not help but lay awake and think back to the dying emperor’s words. Humanity under him had been united and though a terrible force in the galaxy had at least not committed the heinous crimes its successors have. As the host stopped his story and looked to Dift for a response he saw the war hero smiling. Not a smile from the story that had just been told nor even a smile of happiness, but at the realization that as absurd as the man had been he had been right. Dift was wishing that he was still alive.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story #civil war

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headtothecoast · 4 years

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jedi!geraskier au

*i am taking lots of liberties with the world of star wars

geralt learned early that he was force sensitive and was taken from his family and placed into kaher morhen - a jedi temple in the beginnings of the foundation of the republic (not the empire and vader this is set way the hell in the past). the training there was rough and force sensitivity was rare. while some were good pilots and others good at combat, geralt preferred combat. he was taught to distance himself emotionally and that by closing himself off from emotions he wouldn’t become a sith.

because the republic was just starting out but kaher morhen has been around for a long time, geralt was often sent on missions across the galaxy to settle disputes. usually, a side would approach the jedi offering why they believed they were right and the jedi would take in the scene and offe aid to those who did the least harm. they made judgements of good and evil amongst men of all species but did not seek power. (like, qui-gon was supposed to protect a princess from invaders, but also made decisions about judging other species and freeing slaves and backed up a slave over a trader so i’m making the jedi like arbiters).

one of geralt first assignments goes poorly to say the least. it was a shitshow. blaviken was a small outpost that had been the center of trade for a region. the locals had had a sort of royalty that had recently seen a conflict and geralt had been asked to go because another jedi was involved and should things come to blows geralt was a skilled fighter. when he arrived he met renfri and liked her, met irion and liked him less by tried to stay impartial. both sides disagreed with the other and geralt was unsure how to choose. before taking his leave one night renfri agreed to surrender the next day, saying she would follow the lead of a neighboring port tridam and not force a jedi to make an ultimatum she could fix. it took geralt several hours to remember that tridam had been an interplanetary incident where a sith had killed the people of a town until a jedi had surrendered. geralt rushed back to town to stop renfri from killing innocents and took out her followers and geralt realized that irion was not a jedi but a sith - his experimentations and obsession had given him away and so even though he was forced to kill renfri he chose to kill stregobor (sith name) and was stoned while leaving the outpost of blaviken. when he returned to explain himself jedi master vesemir wasn’t happy that a sith had been able to exist so long undetected and told geralt what he told many past apprentices, that right and wrong were difficult choices and that geralt needed to trust in the force.

skip forward a while. the republic is slowly building itself and democracy is spreading throughout the inner planets. there are many species of many worlds all that live very different lifetimes. war broke out on geralts home planet rivia. the royal family of oxenfurt was forced to flee and a puppet government took its place, subjugating a lot of the planets people and overall not a good thing.

while geralt was on a mission in posada, seeking the rumors of someone force sensitive to bring them to be trained or killed if sith. what geralt found was jaskier, a bard by the look of him who had an uncanny ability to sing and effect people’s emotions, leading them foot his bills. while geralt contemplated how best to approach the bard he found himself sitting across from him. jaskier tried to put as much force charm into his voice as he could but geralt was uneffected and drew his lightsaber, thinking jaskier to be a sith. jaskier asked him what the hell a sith was and said he was only trying to make his intentions as obvious as possible and be friendly to a newcomer he meant no offense. jaskier, not as in tune with the more physical aspects of the force, had instead found ways to read people’s emotional states and manipulate them to an extent. he hadn’t exactly known he was doing that but geralt could feel his honest intentions through the force and told him he had the force and that he had been sent to collect him and bring him before the jedi at kaher morhen. jaskier thought that sounded amazing and he could get off the godforsaken planet but geralt made him promise not to use his “jedi mind tricks” again until they got to the temple.

so geralt and jaskier traveled back to a space port where jaskier was invited to sing for a gathering of local nobility and he asked geralt to come with him to keep him safe from other men and geralt kinda had to go because he didn’t want to cause a problem but he ends up stepping in and it’s a clusterfuck that ends with the local law of surprise and a headache. (not entirely sure how to describe all the players and role of the force in this without magic so sadly moving on)

all the way back to the temple jaskier annoys geralt and sings about him and isn’t scared of him, he was called the butcher of blaviken and was not a highly respected jedi for a long time but jaskier didn’t seem to care.

when they returned vesemir made geralt a jedi master and jaskier got to make a decision about his training. geralt was chosen to take him as an apprentice and after training him in combat (which he sucked at and was much better at talking himself out of situations) the two set out on a mission to go find jaskier a kyber crystal to build him a lightsaber.

cue montage of geralt being exasperated and jaskier writing songs about him and geralt proclaiming that jedi don’t feel emotions and jaskier raising hell about that because he clearly felt as geralt did, they were from the same planet and surely geralt couldn’t mean that with how much he cared about helping people.

when they finally reach the remote place it is a cave that jaskier insists geralt come with him to help him pick out a crystal. he had questioned geralt about the colors and given that geralts lightsaber was yellow, like his eyes, and the only golden yellow saber he had seen at the temple he questioned him even more.

geralt explained that the gold came from his skill in combat and his strength that he used to protect others (i am going off a lot of interpretations of color none of which are accurate bear with me). bright yellow belonged to the sentinels, but his was almost an orange or brown, which spoke to his strength.

when jaskier went into the cave he came out with a light green almost yellow blade. the sort of blade forged through intrigue and belonged with someone who had skills in the force more than in combat.

but when jaskier was picking his crystal, being surrounded by the force in a way he never had been was overwhelming, he did not have proper restraint of his emotions and could almost taste geralts restraint and frustration and hurt over blaviken and so many pent up emotions. jaskier looked into the force and asked geralt if he wanted peace.

the physical backlash that jaskier faced through pulling the thorn of blaviken out of his mind and preventing it from festering knocked him out cold for several weeks. geralt wanted to be upset but whatever jaskier had done had lifted a burden, he felt more in tune with the force and more in tune with others. the healer, yennifer, noticed this sense of peace in geralt and asked him about it while jaskier slept. the two grew close and yennifer admitted to her own desires over children and inability to find peace like her master wanted.

when jaskier woke he found the two were friends and he tried to apologize to geralt about the whole crystal incident but geralt didn’t seem to mind. he felt a sense of balance and thanked jaskier for it.

meanwhile vesemir heard about the whole thing and decided to take geralts charge and teach him proper control. jaskier wasn’t thrilled but he endured. 2 years he was gone and geralt slowly realized that he had been coasting off the waves of calm and peace jaskier had left him and he had never properly said how thankful he was to not carry that pain with him every day. it felt like being healed.

when jaskier returned he was quieter. geralt didn’t like it one bit. vesemir gave the two an assignment to test jaskiers newfound resolve and slowly, geralt was able to coax out remenants of the man he knew. one day when geralt made jaskier laugh so loud he startled roach (their ride that geralt insisted on using and taking care of and jaskier swears he saw geralt sneaking her treats) jaskier froze and apologized and said he needed time to himself and left camp for a couple hours.

when jaskier didn’t return after a couple hours geralt found him sitting on a rock crying while making another rock float above his hand. it sounded like he was trying and failing to control his breathing and when geralt startled him jaskier dropped the rock but didn’t retract his hand and geralt force caught it but it was a near thing. geralt asked what the hell he thought he was doing and jaskier explained vesemir’s training.

in the cave, what jaskier did could have killed geralt. geralt who vesemir valued and loved like a son and so he taught jaskier control. vesemir would take a fish in water and hold its shape, passing it off to jaskier who would have to hold the shape of the water because if he let go the fish would die. jaskier are fish like other animals out of necessity but he wasn’t cruel. vesemir names every fish geralt until jaskier could keep the shape for hours. he would push through the crying and the shame and make sure the fish stayed alive. then they moved to other animals but jaskier couldn’t bring himself to risk hurting something so he put the rock above his hands so that if he lost control he would be the only one harmed and he had been trying so hard to do as vesemir had instructed to maintain control and balance but jaskier felt miserable and unbalanced and it made geralts heart hurt.

geralt doesn’t mind if jaskier feels everything, every emotion through the force because he doesn’t try to focus on the good or the bad, he feels it all. sith seek pleasure or pain but jaskier laughs and cries in equal measure and above all tries to help so geralt can’t see that as a fault even if vesemir thought what he did was best.

geralt says as much to jaskier and says he will never let someone else hurt him and that he’d missed him because yennifer might be one of the few jedi he’s comfortable talking to since his newfound peace but jaskier had chosen to endure his festering and pain regardless and if geralt had to choose between peace and jaskier he would choose jaskier.

jaskier allows himself to feel true happiness and he and geralt get on and when the mission comes to an end they have found a rhythm. when they return to the temple the jedi can sense their in-tune-ness, their peace and resolve and trust. they take assignments together and occasionally apart and sometimes yennifer joins them but when they work together they feel more connected and alive than ever.

then, cintra falls.

jaskier had taken a solo assignment on a planet geralt can’t remember so he turns to yennifer and the two go and rescue ciri, geralt’s child surprise from the invading army. technically, she is supposed to remain with geralt and under his care but he can feel the force that flows between ciri and yennifer is as strong if not stronger than the force that flows through him and ciri and while he would do anything for her, jaskier hadn’t finished his last mission on time and geralt is worried. yennifer pushes him to go after him and promises to take care of ciri and he believes her. that is when the temple gets news that a member of the royal family of rivia has been found and is being brought for execution. war is stirring on rivia and geralt is sent to stop it, he tried to keep his eyes peeled for jaskier but he knows that he will have to put the lives of millions above the one.

the execution is a public affair and geralt weaves his way through the crowd to get a good look at the member of the royal family that hasn’t been seen in decades. when the doors open and release a woman clothed in rags geralt comes alive not of his own volition, but because he can feel jaskiers presence in the crowd. the woman he realizes seems to be searching the crowd for something and when she sees it bows her head and smiles. it is then that geralt spots jaskier - slicing off the head of the puppet king. jaskier does not look happy so much as determined. geralt springs in to action, preventing the beast from slaying the women and he and the woman have make their way to the top of the stadium to join jaskier.

jaskier announces to the crowd that the queen and prince of rivia are home and that effective immediately all those who had been enslaved under the new regime are to be freed or face the jedi prince jaskier themselves.

geralt is stunned and jaskier leads him and his mother away from the stadium and back to the old palace where jaskier remembered growing up. there he finds people who remember him and his mother and will take care of her until he has dealt with the other dissidents in his kingdom and leads geralt somewhere private.

geralt has been silent the whole time and jaskier forces himself not to ramble but for geralt to please say something anything. and geralt asks why he didn’t tell him. jaskier says it was to protect his mother. shortly after leaving the planet his father had been killed and it was just him and his mom fending for themselves and when geralt had spotted him in posada it was because he was trying to throw puppet government goons off his moms trail and lure them away. it worked but not forever.

geralt asked him how it was possible to hide such a thing from him in the force and jaskier holds geralts hand and lets the entirety of the force flow through the both of them. geralt can feel the strength of it and is staggered. jaskier explains that he had some measure of control because if he didn’t he would have torn the world apart in grief only to reassemble it in euphoria and his mom had taught him how to shelter certain thoughts but the experience in the cave had heightened everything, including his ability to shield the single secret in the force. his mom shielded herself and jaskier promised he would do the same.

jaskier apologizes and tells geralt that it wasn’t his intention to hurt him but he couldn’t expose his mom and suddenly geralt is holding jaskier and jaskier is crying. geralt tells him that it’ll be okay and that he was hurt but he understands and geralt, after having felt the strength of jaskiers emotions tried to project his own emotions through the force to him, of calm and protection and jaskier gasps and pushed back and suddenly geralt is kissing him because jaskier was absolutely radiating love through the force and it was the freest he’d ever felt.

sure they would have to explain some things to the jedi council, and when jaskiers mother passed and left him the thrown there would be more problems than solutions on their plate, but geralt promised he would protect jaskier at all costs and he’d fight the whole galaxy if he had to to keep this man in his arms.

*okay so i haven’t seen the new star wars movies and do i really know how the force works? no. do i care? no. i know that jedi have a weird relationship to emotions, and that sith use the force for personal gain and that strong emotions *cough* anakin *cough* are said to lead to the dark side but like,,, i don’t care.

**yennifer has a purple lightsaber for moral ambiguity and ciri is blue for justice and protection. i chose gold for geralt because it was strength and skill and while i believe he has qualities of blue, it also matched his eyes which was a good benefit. jaskier felt like a mix of colors also so i chose green and feel free to disagree because again, i don’t know a whole lot about star wars cannon because it is almost as confusing as witcher cannon (timeline anyone?)

***i couldn’t think of a solid characterization for yennifer or world building place for roach, sorry they’re shaky. also - i don’t hate vesemir or anything i just think he would be over protective and i needed a way to show jaskier change i love all the witchers and if i really wanted to make thing l o n g e r i could have included eskel and lambert and everything but it already felt long so like, they are missing (from this head cannon/almost fic) but not forgotten.

finally, if you want to write this as a fic or run with the idea or just like, i really don’t care please do! tag me in anything you think would be related or something idk this got really long and i don’t know how to end it but it was fun writing it.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #yennifer #cirilla of cintra #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #jedi!geraskier #jedi au

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politicalmamaduck · 4 years

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Mother of the Rebellion

Padme Amidala survives Mustafar, and goes on the run with her babies. With the help of her four dearest friends, they sow the seeds of rebellion across the galaxy. Read it on AO3 here.

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Padmé felt relief when they arrived at their destination several hours later.

Stewjon’s climate was colder than Naboo, and there were fewer trees and water features, though it did possess wide, flat grassy plains through which creatures that reminded Padmé of the shaak roamed. It was inhabited mostly by humans, in small cities spread across the planet.

It was a peaceful place, far from Coruscant or the Ring of Kafrene’s hustle and bustle.

It was also Obi-Wan’s homeworld, and thus, the perfect place for them to hide, for Anakin or the Emperor’s other enforcers would never look there. His family was long gone, but memories slowly returned to Obi-Wan like shadows in the corner of his eye. Unlike Anakin, he’d been taken from his family as a little one, and thus had little to regret.

They settled into a quiet, small house on the edge of a town by one of the planet’s few lakes. Obi-Wan was thoughtful in choosing a home near water, both for Padmé’s sake and his own, for he sorely missed easily accessible water while hiding on Tatooine. The calm waters would also serve him well for meditation.

The twins would learn how to swim at a young age, a valuable skill, one valued by both Padmé and Obi-Wan.

It seemed an ideal place to raise two precocious, Force sensitive children, far from prying eyes, and whatever the Empire planned to do with Force sensitive children across the galaxy.

Both Padmé and Obi-Wan put that out of mind for the time being, yet kept bags packed under their beds and performed maintenance on the ship nearly every day, just to be certain they could flee at a moment’s notice.

If Padmé awakened in the middle of the night crying nearly as often as her children, Obi-Wan did not mention it. Grief was multi-layered and complex, as he learned from a young age, holding his dead Master in his arms. It was indeed possible to grieve someone who still lived, though twisted and evil beyond recognition, as he had learned recently. As much as he had always been quiet, stoic, a dutiful Jedi pupil, he appreciated and understood the value of emotion, of putting a name and a voice to one’s feelings. Grief was an old friend, one whose appearance in his life he would rather not have occurred so often or so young.

He grieved Qui-Gon, Satine, and Anakin in very different ways befitting their statuses as Master, lover, Padawan, and learned different lessons from each.

He grieved his many fallen Clone comrades, and the many Jedi, some of whom he had never even met, who fell in one cruel stroke that horrible day some months prior, thanks to the Emperor and his machinations.

Their deaths impacted him in many different ways, from unexplained chest pains and headaches to tears whose presence he did not mind in Tatooine’s parched atmosphere.

He thought himself mostly healed in solitude on Tatooine, until presented with a woman to whom grief and melancholy were a stranger, one with a hole in her heart that would never be filled.

Together they mourned, nodding at each other over their morning tea before the children cried out once more to be fed.

When their mourning and exile were over, they would rebuild not just their own lives, but an organization devoted to representative democracy and fighting for what remained of the Galactic Republic. As long as a single ray of hope lived on in the galaxy, and Obi-Wan was certain that it did, he would fight to keep that light alive.

Until then, he helped Padmé find pleasure in the small things, from a beautiful blossom in their garden, to the weekly calls with Sabé that they now shared. It was reassuring to see Padmé smile at her best friend, the sister of her soul. In turn, Sabé’s smiles too brought great joy to his soul, one he could not entirely explain or put a name to, but he appreciated the feeling nonetheless. There was so little in the greater galaxy to give them joy. He would savor what he could, and he hoped Padme would continue to heal and do the same as well.

Despite their perilous situation, it was incredible to watch two small babies grow and develop each day. The ancient Jedi philosophers started debates across the centuries and wrote treatises about the many different types of love, but Obi-Wan found nothing to compare to raising children as if they were one’s own. He knew that his early influence in their lives would make his relationship with them drastically different from that of a typical Master and Padawan. It was a challenge both thrilling and terrifying. He vowed that he would not fail these precious children the way he had their father.

He knew that Padmé would not be able to handle yet another heartbreak. And so he waited and watched, learning how each liked to be held and soothed to sleep. Leia kept her eyes open more often than Luke, but Luke did not kick as often as his sister. They often fell asleep at opposite ends of their cribs, but drifted towards each other during the night. The twins clearly had a unique bond, one developed in the womb and unlikely to be easily broken. Their feelings would do them credit, as long as one would never be turned against the other.

Padmé and Obi-Wan were both grateful that the twins seemed not to be affected by their grief. Slowly, their downturned faces began to rise like the sun each morning, and they began to smile more often than merely once a week on Sabé’s comms. An ancient proverb stated that time would heal all wounds, and perhaps, for a former Senator and Jedi, it would.

In addition to mental and emotional healing, they continued to train their bodies physically. Both always boasted toned physiques; lifting small children and their paraphernalia each day lent itself easily to developing a strong upper body, but could also easily cause back and neck strains. Obi Wan taught Padme a variety of stretches and poses akin to a Jedi’s forms, and she gratefully joined him for laps in the lake when the children were sleeping. Though Padme was well trained during her days in public service on Naboo, they also practiced a variety of self-defense techniques and close combat skills.

It was a simple life, and one they would not take for granted, for it would be time to emerge from their hiding soon enough.

#padme amidala #obi wan kenobi #padme lives au #star wars #fan fiction #my writing #my moodboards

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