Even Stars Burn Out

Vaderdala enthusiast

[calamitousvader]

Hello! My name is J and I’ve been in the Star Wars fandom for a while now. I’m trying to be more present in the fandom and actually take fic writing/ metas more seriously! My main ship is anidala but I also love arcane, life is strange, avatar, Buffy, twin peaks, and the x files… big fan of 90s tv and sci fi in general

You can also find me on Twitter at sundragonheartt

[spagottti]

Little Ani ;—;

[yanna-writes]

Stranded on a frozen world, Anakin and Padmé find that sharing body heat becomes nothing if not necessary.

You can read ‘Just Need Your Skin Next To Mine’ on AO3 here! Written for the @anidalaweeks collection — specifically the Anidala Yuletide Event 2025 Prompt: Winter Morning.

[yanna-writes]

You can read Ch. 2 (🔞) of ‘Just Need Your Skin Next To Mine’ on AO3 here! I decided to add a smutty little continuation because why not? Also because several of you sent me messages about it and I’m nothing if not a people pleaser tee-hee — no, for real, it is THAT easy to make me write / continue any of my fics ☠️ they might not always come in the next immediate update… but trust that I definitely keep our chats in mind! Please, enjoy ❤️🔥

[calamitousvader]

If you like sapphic anidala:

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

I come bearing another offering.

Featuring:

-a lot of angst

-messy trans girl anakin (with bpd and a disability)

-uhaul lesbianism, and

- healing sex

[calamitousvader]

“What are you doing over there?” Padmé says. Despite how much shorter than Anakin she is, she attempts to wrap her body around Anakin.

“That’s my job,” Anakin says, and rolls back over, wrapping her in arm. Only one arm, which means she clings tighter so Padmé doesn’t feel the loss of a second.

And maybe there’s such a thing, as being crushed in a good way. Like there’s no other weight but Padmé’s.

Anakin texts Shmi's old number; Padme answers.

Sapphic anidala.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[t9909-g]

[calamitousvader]

“Liberal gf x maga bf”

I’m going to stop you right there. Anakin became a fascist under very unique specific circumstances that he wouldn’t experience in our world. If Vader had even a smidge more agency he wouldn’t have chosen to be a fascist. There are comics where he is shown lamenting the fact that the Empire enslaves races. He was an instrument of fascism but not necessarily a subscriber to it. His political beliefs are rather incoherent and can be described as “whatever someone tells me is correct.” He is conditioned to blindly follow whatever ideology is fed to him from an early age- whether that’s the Order’s tenets, or Palpatine’s teachings. Anakin is not a blind follower of authority because he wants to be- he is one of it of necessity. As a slave he was punished for disobeying and that consequence loomed over him for the rest of his life. On top of that he was brainwashed by various institutions/ people and never allowed to freely think or develop his own thoughts on things. In a modern setting, where he is not raised under the tyranny of slavery, or in the cult like conditions of the Jedi and not actively being groomed- when we remove that combination of factors I firmly believe he would not have chosen or gone down the path of being a fascist.

In addition, we also see him engaging in political discussion in the movies with Padmé. There is no way they’re on completely different pages. In a maga bf liberal gf situation, most partners avoid talking about politics with their SOs. This isn’t the case. Ultimately what Anakin wants for both himself and others is liberation. He and Padmé might disagree on approaches and policy, but at the end of the day he supports a righteous cause. She wouldn’t have stayed married to him otherwise.

[calamitousvader]

[mikusyua]

i’m not against sabé/dala but even if you ship them you need to understand that sabé did not know padmé better than anakin. she only knew amidala, which is not padmé at all. even amidala is not her real surname (last name??)

[cowboysanddragons23]

Padme herself has to outright tell Sabé: "I am more than Amidala, you know?" Padme is so tired of being constantly dehumanized and being treated as a symbol but never a person. Anakin was the first one to actually treat her like a person and not as an icon.

[calamitousvader]

I only come on this site to tell @yanna-writes my ideas 😭😭

[lesbosexual]

PADMÉ AMIDALA & LUKE SKYWALKER | THE GOD ABANDONS ANTONY (1911) by Constantine P. Cavafy

inspired by @ozvezdja

[calamitousvader]

came across these on Pinterest and started thinking about Vader after she transitions getting a costume that is evocative of the sun dragon but still kind of terrifying

[wlwanakin]

ANIDALA x NOSFERATU

i love you - fontaines dc

[galactic-rhea]

Talking with @ozvezdja the other day, we just ended with this ridiculous idea. Their bdsm is extremely educative.

Transcription of the dialogue on alt text!

[tip jar!]

[calamitousvader]

Padmé singing anakin the same song that shmi sang to him when he was young to soothe him from nightmares. That is all

[vinxlers]

Medieval au ⚔️ sapphic anidala

Merry Christmas!! Art for @anidalaweeks‘s Yuletide 2025 Secret Santa event,

my secret santa partner is @calamitousvader! :3 I hope you enjoy it.

[calamitousvader]

My take on Zygerria, and how Anakin got his eye scar:

It’s short enough to post on tumblr, so I thought I’d just post the whole fic here.

“There is no mirror that has ever loved Anakin Skywalker. And the mirror in the Medbay bathroom is no exception.

That glass always shows him exactly what he doesn’t want to see. Most of the time, it shows him his mother. It shows him the youth she never got to live as a free woman.

Today it shows him beauty. It shows him that his hair, as messy as it is, is still voluminous. As weary as he is from the mission, he still has that smoldering expression, a fierceness in his eyes that could rival stars. He has always been grateful for his beauty; Padmé remarks on it frequently, as do people on the Holonet. He’s always seen it as an advantage.

Now he hates every inch of his beautiful skin, because she loved it. If only his face had been scarred. If only his hair hadn’t been long enough for her to tug.

If only you weren’t so beautiful, the dragon chides, maybe she wouldn’t have looked into your eyes.

If only.

The mirror has to pay, because somebody does. His knuckles collide with it; he sees himself splinter. Sees silver and rainbows and blood.

“General?” He hears one of the clones outside say. “Are you alright in there? We heard a loud noise.”

“Fine,” he says, though it comes out almost a wail. Fuck, he can’t throw up- they’ll hear it. He tries to swallow the vomit rising up into his throat, unsuccessfully. It spews out of him. It’s all wet and slimy, like the inside of her. He wishes Mom was here, to clean him up. Or Padme.

Padme….

Even her forgiveness has its limits, the dragon hisses.

Even through the cracked mirror, he can still see himself. He is split into pieces. But the mirror is vengeful; even broken, it still reflects.

Too much beauty. Too sharp.

There’s one way to make it go away, forever. He has to get rid of these eyes that she complimented, these eyes that looked into hers.

He rakes his nails over his eye socket. And then ah, blissful black-

There’s a frenzied knock. “Sir! What’s going on in there, Sir?”

Gods, Can’t anyone just leave him the fuck alone?

“I told you, I’m fine,” he snaps. But he’d be a lot better if they’d just let him finish what he’d started. And his eye hurts now.

When it hurt, Mom used to sing to him. Back then the only beautiful thing he used to know was the sound of her voice.

“Mom-” he almost calls.

Troopers shuffle around outside.

“Are you hurt, Sir?” Says one of the clone troopers.

“I’m…fine…” he says, though he feels faint. Is all that blood on the floor his?

He is hurt, but he hates the fucking doctors. They can’t look at him, not in this state.

So he just slumps against the countertop and groans. “I’ll be just a moment.”

On the floor, blood and mirror shards have all mixed together. His reflection is stained crimson now. Where he dragged his nails there is a trail of blood. He thinks of the battlefield, of all the lightsaber wounds that don’t bleed. It is a blessing, he thinks, to bleed. Bleeding is not beautiful.

“We just want to know if you’re alright,” one of the troopers repeats quietly. Funny, how the Council never said that. They never asked if he was alright with this mission. In fact he practically begged them not to send him to Zygerria, please, I’ll do anything but that…

But we need you on this, Skywalker.

This had to happen. It was meant to happen. Because that’s what it means, to be needed. It means: you have a purpose. And his is to be sent to Hell, because no one else will go.

He feels bad, keeping the men waiting. He makes himself stand up and open the door. The Troopers look at him with caring, but also with the kind of concern he has always resented.

“Yeah, I know, I’ll go see a fucking Medic,” he huffs, before they can pester him about it.

—-

The next few hours are a painkiller induced haze as they fix him up.

They do not fix him like he is a droid. There is no restart button on the human body; skin remembers every touch. They can fix the external damage; they can restore his functionality. But there’s no doctor in the world who knows how to make the remembering stop.

—-

Anakin doesn’t understand why the doctors recommended he be put on medical leave. He is perfectly capable of returning to battle like this. His eye is healing, and his men need him.

He wasn’t going to take the leave. But when he called Padme up and told her what happened to his eye, she’d threatened him with a litany of violent acts if he didn’t.

So he finds himself back home. Padmé isn’t there when he arrives at her place, but he has a key. He wants to collapse in their shared bed, which he knows smells like her, but when he sees it, all he can think about is how plush it had been.

Her skin, the sheets.

He plops himself down onto the sofa, without a blanket- he wouldn’t be able to stand the softness- feeling ill again. The queasiness has lasted for days now. Obi Wan would tell him to meditate; that was the Jedi cure for most illnesses.

Despite how sick he feels, how bone dead weary he is, he does not sleep. In his sleep, she comes, sharp as a reflection, as the score of a whip.

—-

When Padmé finds him later that night, he is staring blankly at a wall. She sits down beside him and strokes his hair. This is not the first time she has helped him through an injury.

“Does it hurt?” She asks.

He stopped noticing whether it did or not. All he can offer her is, “I think so.”

She furrows her brows a little at that. An odd answer, he knows.

“A mirror… did this?” That was the story he was going with, the one he told the doctors. The mirror had been broken already, he’d said, and when he went to use the sink a shard had cut him.

“No.” he admits.

Padmé looks at him questioningly, but doesn’t push him. “Then what happened?”

Anakin’s only answer is to sob. Padmé just lets him, doesn’t rush him.

“I didn’t want to see anymore,” he answers finally. “Not her face or…or myself. I can’t stand it. After what I’ve done…She made me break my vow to you.”

Understanding crosses Padmé’s face. “What was done to you,” she corrects. She places a light kiss on Anakin’s bandaged eye.

He is glad he can see her. She looks like Mom’s voice. He remembers that beautiful is not a bad thing.”