She remained unmoving, the roar of sandworms growing louder. She would not relinquish her crysknife. Not ever. There was so much hidden from the Republic. The actual number of the Sevari out in the deep desert, the origin of the Spice Melange, the reason weather control and orbiting satelites were banned from the planet, and most of all the lifestyle and culture of the Sevari themselves.
Let the Republic dogs go on with their backwards thinking. Let them call the natives savages who drank the blood of their fallen. Chani knew too well the rewards offered to the miners who could bring back a crysknife and eradication the native who held one.
She knew of slavery and radical racism. She knew the corrupt nature of man and those who only sought to further themselves. She knew of loss at the hands of the Republic. Her father, the former Imperial Planetologist ( or as the newer terms of off-worlders favored: the Galactic Ecologist) was slain by order of the Republic. Yet, all the reports and those who would protect the ‘honor’ of such grand government would call it an accident.
That his death in the vast desert was the working of a falty ‘thopter and stillsuit. Not that he was tortured and dumped without a stillsuit. What else could be said? The worms left no evidence.
Revenge would sit on her tongue like a fine wine. It would be all to easy to draw the Maula Pistol ( so different from the Lazguns and Blasters. It held poison darts instead of beams. It went undetected by the worms as well as the bipeds who walked the planet. Why not? A weapon such as that had gone unused since the invention of blasters. ) and open fire on him.
How else could she prove she was as savage as they said? What better revenge than to take the life of every Republic dog who crossed her path?
“ May your blade chip and shatter.” She spoke instead, the words held every venom she felt.
The art of revenge was a grand gift, but it would not bring her father back. it would not remove the offworlders from the surface. It was not necessary and therefore unimportant. It was the Fremen way of thinking. The hardest part was letting it all go.
There was a strange satisfaction knowing that if he tried to take her knife, she would kill him or die trying. In doing that, he would not be able to transverse the surface of the planet for more than a few hours. without her help, he would die.
Chani’s endless blue-within-blue locked hard onto his eyes. Her hand grasped her blade with a firm grip. her head turned slightly, allowing his saber to singe more hairs from her head. She did not doubt his Weirding Way or his capablity to kill her. She simply doubted his moral code allowing him to.
HAD ANAKIN NOT just been a victim of Chani’s panickedviolence he would’ve been impressed by her bravery. It’s a rare kind of person who can refuse a Jedi’s request with a saber held to their neck. Or perhaps she knows enough about the Jedi to recognize the emptiness of his threat. How satisfying it would be to press his blade into her neck, to watch the flesh bubble && melt, to see the look of surprise flash across her face when she realizes that her stubbornesscouldn’t save her.
What? The thought passes over Anakin, making him feel oil-slick && foul. It’s a fire that twists through him, whispering for him to give in && fall just a little further into the shadow curling at the edges of his mind. Ultimately it’s this thought that stalls Anakin’s hand, && drives him to lower the saber from her neck. The weapon’s glow casts them both in a strange half-light that makes Anakin look as though he was carved from stone. && for a moment, he’s still enough to have been.
Her words wash him open, needling at the small part of him that parallels her. They are both children of a merciless desert, born beneath heavy && unflinching sunlight that burns away even the most resilient creatures. They’ve both suffered hardships people grown in fertile lands could never understand.
❝ Tah hhinpah doth dokahn, bacaka tee ten. ❞ The words take seem to take something out of him, dulling a man who’s always shone like the bright edge of a sharp blade. It softens him, military posture slumping ever so slightly. This only lasts until one of the sandworms behind them let loose another ear-shattering roar, biting deeply into the swollen, armored skin of the other. The wounded sandworm’s wavering screams of agony jumpstarts Anakin’s survival instincts once more.
❝ You said we needed to find shelter. Now is probably a good time. ❞ His humor is hollow, forced by the circumstances. In the end, it’s just another mask for him to wear. Anakin thumb’s off his saber, watching it shrink away.
The victorious sandworm roars again, diving back towards its dying twin to tear at a chunk of pulpy flesh.
❝ Now?!❞ Anakin repeats, not particularly willing to stick around for when the sandworm grows bored of mutilation.
Hello and welcome to my blog! Thank you for taking the time to read my rules, I'll try and make this as quick as possible.
I only roleplay with mutuals. All my opens are for mutuals unless otherwise stated. But if we're not mutuals you're welcome to ask me questions and send me memes. I'm absolutely oc-friendly. So long as you have a rules page and an about, we're good.
I'm happy to write one-liners, paras, novellas, crack, or pretty much any content so long as my writing partners discuss it with me before hand.
(I will tag anything in my writing or reblogs that I think may be triggering. If there's something that triggers you untagged on my blog just pop me an ask and I'll be sure to tag it for you.)
I'm multiship and ship-exclusive. Meaning I'll ship with multiple people but only with one version of each character.
*Padmé is an exception to this rule as her relationship with Anakin is canon and vital to his characterization.
I'm not exclusive. Not unless you ask and we've established a good writing dynamic. I'm not a big fan of auto-exclusivity and if you require this of your followers there's a good chance I'm not going to follow you.
I hope i don't actually have to say this but just in case: god-modding will not be tolerated. If we're writing a battle scene i'd rather just pre-determine the winner than get into an ic dick-battle.
I'm not going to send in passwords on rules. It's an anxiety thing. rest assured i will read your rules. don't worry.
If a blog is inactive for 2+ months without a hiatus notice I'm going to likely unfollow you. Again, this is an anxiety thing and cleaning out my following helps me feel a bit more organized. But if you become active on that blog again I will definitely follow you back.
The art used in my background can be found here and here . The gif used in my header can be found here.
Finally, my name is scout, I'm 20, a sophomore in college, and a loser. Replies and activity is going to be spotty on this blog because of that. If we're mutuals i encourage you asking for my discord, I'll send you memes.
verses
CANON.
AU.
PRIVATE.
TAKE THE LIGHT INSIDE YOU.
Freed from slavery on Tatooine and freshly initiated into the Jedi Order, Padawan Skywalker works tirelessly to prove himself to the meticulous Council and earn his Knighthood. But with age comes uncertainty, and the beginning of a series of terrible nightmares featuring his mother's death. Every day the bright, enthusiastic child Qui-Gon Jinn brought to the Temple grows more and more distant from himself and others.
WEAPON OF WAR.
The galaxy is at war but Anakin Skywalker is fighting more than just external battles. Suspended between his loyalty to the Order and his loyalty to his wife, Anakin struggles to find a guiding light in the increasing darkness. And now that the nightmares have returned with his wife as their new feature, Anakin has begun to grow more and more desperate for a method to save Padmé from what he believes to be her doom.
THE WORST PARTS OF HIMSELF.
Anakin Skywalker died with the Republic, and in their place rose the Empire and its right hand: Darth Vader. Who will stop at nothing to rid the galaxy of every lingering memory of the life he had before his fall.
WHAT A MESS I LEAVE
Redeemed in the eyes of the Force, Anakin Skywalker has been granted sentience beyond death, allowing him to reach out to his descendents and warn them against repeating his mistakes.
FILTH TEACHES FILTH. stranger things Before 008, before 011, there was subject 001. Anakin Skywalker, the first of an entire generation veined with strange, incomprehensible powers. Disappeared at sixteen after his mother's mysteriously unreported murder at the hands of a local gang. His escape preceded 11's only by a few years, && now he's back in Hawkins on the trail of Brenner's prodigy.
SPANDEX & STEEL. marvel/dc
Born and raised in Tatooine, New Mexico, Anakin didn't think himself any different from the rest of the lonely souls living in the desert. That is, until his mother was killed by local gang members, jumpstarting a series of strange murders that forced him to go on the run. He's a metahuman, a mutant; with strange powers he can't control and the blood of several seriel murderers on his hands. Sometimes he owns a small car shop just outside of town, and sometimes he doesn't have a home at all.
WHEN THE WAR WINS. modern
Anakin, a war vet secluded in a no-name town in the middle of New Mexico, works to overcome his ptsd by becoming a hermit && buying the house his mother died in. His progress has been shaky, for obvious reasons.
DON'T CALL THIS REDEMPTION alternate ending
Believing himself to have died after passing out at the end of ROTJ, Vader, or Anakin now, awakens to a post-war galaxy to discover the eternal peace he sought is still far out of reach. Now a prisoner of the New Republic, Vader works alongside the Rebellion in secret as they dismantle the last vestiges of the Empire.
A DIFFERENT KIND OF LEGACY.
A private verse tied into ahphra's Sith verse and shadcwpreacher's alternate background. In this verse, after being rebuffed by his son, Vader looks to train Doctor Chelli Aphra as his apprentice.
The dark is generous, and it is patient. It is the dark that seeds cruelty into justice, that drips contempt into compassion, that poisons love with grains of doubt. The dark can be patient, because the slightest drop of rain will cause those seeds to sprout. The rain will come, and the seeds will sprout, for the dark is the soil in which they grow, and it is the clouds above them, and it waits behind the star that gives them light. The dark’s patience is infinite. Eventually, even stars burn out.
AND WE ASK OURSELVES
Are monsters born, or made?
Let me tell you the story that's been scored into the stars. The family that turned the galaxy upside down. There was a man, with the weight of a prophecy lining his shoulders, and a thermonuclear furnace in his heart. He loved a woman, a proud, strong, kind woman who loved him equally, despite the anger, and the Darkness that grew in him. And the man watched her die every night in his dreams.
That man told himself if he can carry a prophecy, he can prevent a dream from becoming reality. Whatever it takes.
Whoever it takes.
SO WHAT HAPPENED
The man exchanged his loyalty for her life, and killed the people who raised him. He ended a war in one night, the fire of the gods burning behind him on a metal moutaintop.
The woman he loved was no fool, she could sight a fire started in her name. A queen knows when someone is bowing.
She meets him on a molten planet, begs him to stray from the Darkness. But there is a shadow in the place of the man she loved, a monster.
He takes her breath to silence her, doomed to paranoia on the arrival of his brother, who is too, in some ways, a shadow. Forced to kill the man meant to save them all.
So the man dies, and is reborn. Baptized by fire. The woman he loved dies too. And eventually, even the brother dies.
astramessiah reblogged this from essenceofhispenance
essenceofhispenance reblogged this from astramessiah
