I BELIEVE IN YOU!

DEPENDENT RP BLOG ⚝ ⚝ ⚝ i love with my throat exposed ⚝ ⚝ ⚝ padmé naberrie amidala skywalker written by kila ⚝ ⚝ ⚝ It’s been very rare to have known you, very strange and wonderful.

[padawanlost]

What if home is a person who isn’t here anymore? [x]

[nabcrry-blog]

@blnced

[dovingmemes]

send a ‘👄 + character name’ and my muse will talk about that character

[imperialshq]

littlelovelymemes‌:

 ✰   —  —  —  BUZZFEED UNSOLVED SENTENCE STARTERS

Keep reading

[nabcrry-blog]

⚝    ･ ﾟ   *    HANNAH!

It was a rare sight to see Hanna in the upper levels of the city. They reminded her too much of Taris, of watching those god-awful white gleaming towers, heavily guarded and full of fine food, finer clothing, and rich assholes who didn’t give a thought to the swamps below. But try as she might, she couldn’t completely avoid the nicer side of Coruscant. It had things she couldn’t get on the lower levels- better food, mostly, but parts too. So there she was, doing her best to get what she needed and get out, and then she was colliding with someone and her tools were flying everywhere. “Hey! Watch where you’re going you son of a…” the woman’s face was too regal even for Coruscant, and it flickered in the back of Hanna’s mind. “Hang on do I know you from somewhere?”

          padmé was not lost, she was simply on her way. she was not lost, she was simply... sight seeing. on her way... somewhere. a destination that she would know when she arrived. no matter what the usually-practical voice in her head said. obviously. padmé made another turn, looking through the vaguely-familiar shops and buildings that scattered the upper levels. there's only so far architect can really transform. these were streamlined designs to be sure, sleeker and nicer to look at, but at the base it was so coruscant that it made her heart ache. she would love to spend some time here one day when she was more settled, taking in the—

                                                                      CRACK   !

          ❝ mother — kriffing —— ❞   padmé had to take a couple deep breaths before the pain from her forehead began to fade and she could focus. what met her sight made her wince. she'd apparently collided with someone going about her business—guilt and shame colored her face.

          ❝ i'm terribly sorry about that—i wasn't watching where my feet were taking me close enough, i suppose. ❞   padmé glanced around to where the woman's tools had scattered, and quickly knelt to begin gathering them up. it was her fault she'd lost them, after all—padmé might have holed herself up since being revived, but she knew that the state they were in was perilous, and she didn't wish to hold up any repair or matinence work or new creation that would be needed.

          ❝ i.. don't believe i know you? ❞   padmé said, in response to her earlier question. she took a closer look at the woman, but didn't find any familiar features in her face.   ❝ i used to be a senator, a long time ago. perhaps you know me from what's left of that? ❞   the things around her gathered, padmé stood and extended her hand.

          ❝ padmé amidala, at your service. ❞

[nabcrry-blog]

⚝    ･ ﾟ   *    LUKE!

Some people have been giving him looks.

Over his few months back from death, Luke has learned to pick up on when Resistance members are trying their very best, bless their souls, to not tell him something. Most of them are smart enough to not whisper, and if there is such a thing as thinking quietly, some of them are attempting it. So he goes looking, not quite invasive but merely trying to locate the focal point of their discomfort.

(Admittedly, if it was that simple, Luke would probably have ignored it in favor of the many, many other problems plaguing the Resistance. But the Force is persistent, nudging his attention away from everything he should be focusing on as they try to recover from the loss of their previous base. There is so much to do, so much to be done, and yet.

And yet.)

Luke had no memory of his mother. He went searching, though, after the war was done. The Empire did their best to expunge records. So what he did manage to recover was fractured - old holovid recordings of the Senate, the footage grainy and distant, the implication of Padme Amidala’s existence more than the certainty of it. The ghost of her is something he could feel everywhere, an absence rather than a presence.

So when the absence is filled with a presence, flesh and blood and real, Luke’s world tilts just slightly on its axis. It isn’t panic. It isn’t relief either. It’s both the understanding of how wrong this is (thirty-eight years since Yavin, and her dead almost two decades prior, so: nearly sixty years since the last time she existed as anything but a dream, a memory) and the clawing desperate loss that has never quite left him.

He is staring. His presence in the Force is nothing but a blur of white noise and confusion, and he schools his expression back down into something that must be less permeated by loss. Breathe. Don’t jump to conclusions, even in total surety, with nothing but some ancient blurry recordings and some assumptions to prop him up. ❛❛ I’m… sorry for staring. You just - nevermind. Do you need something? ❞

        padmé didn't notice him, not at first. she was—more lost than she intended to be. there was this slow ache spreading somewhere behind her stomach; like a wound left too long out in the open, finally being poked and prodded and put back together. it had driven padmé to the point of distraction, causing her to lose track of the various twists and turns she'd taken through the hallways. it was only then that she noticed the familiar prickling sensation that meant someone was watching her.

        padmé turned just in time to see his expression seem to close off. her first thought was     (   obi-wan used to do the exact same thing when he knew he was in trouble   ) — but her second thought was a bit more distressing, causing that ache in her stomach to twist painfully, (   do i know him from somewhere?   )

        she couldn't help but stare herself. it wasn't just distressing looking at him, there was something about the man that made her want to tear up. she knew that he wasn't someone from her past—padmé's life as a queen, and later a senator, meant that she met many, many people. for her own peace of mind, she cared for all of them, but only really formed a close bond with a handful of them in her lifetime—she'd remember anyone who made her want to tear up, wouldn't she? this feeling almost felt like her last moments—two bundles of light taken from her body, the final breath knowing they'd be safe in obi-wan's arms, but...

                                            it couldn't be... could it?

        for a single moment, padmé's brain froze, stuttered. it catalogued the slope of his brow, the shape of his jaw, the way he held himself—there was so much of anakin in the slope of his cheekbones but... there was no recognition in his eyes—scarecly anything at all, for that matter. she may not have known many jedi's, but padmé knew enough to recognize the emotional control. but this... if this was really her luke, wouldn't he have recognized her? they may not have grown up together, but surely by the end of their war and oh, she'd have to unpack that wall of grief later they would've known about anakin, about her. there couldn't be that little of her mark left in the galaxy that they wouldn't know...

        perhaps it was her mind shielding her from the emotions the thought of her children not recognizing her evoked, but suddenly padmé's tunnel vision righted itself, and she could finally tear her gaze away from the careful scrutiny she'd been fixing the stranger with. she drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders, crossing her arms as if cold—more likely to shield herself, but no one really needed to know that but herself. that feeling in her gut only worsened, some phantom force poking at the bruise the absence of her children left, but it was easy enough to ignore. padmé had quickly accustomed herself to that particular feeling.

                  ❝ yes—if you wouldn't mind? ❞   despite all her inner turmoil, padmé's smile came easily to her face. she wandered closer, each step increasing that odd tightening in her stomach—but she wasn't thinking about that right now.   ❝ i'm new... and quite lost, at the moment actually... and was looking for someone to point me in the direction where i could be of most help. ❞

[doctormissy-archived]

Star Wars Character Edits: Padmé Amidala for @vvayneskyle

Join my summer celebration!

[nabcrry-blog]

⚝    ･ ﾟ   *    ANAKIN!

       WAR ALWAYS MEANS ADAPTABILITY—— anakin has always known this , as it was hardwired into his brain after so many years of losses and shortcomings , and once in a while , a spark of good fortune. as well as the jedi order prepared them for what conflict could bring , though , anakin’s not sure they could have ever predicted this. 

       he’s always hated death , more so after the loss of his mother. while he was often praised  for his work , strength , and courage by outsiders , anakin never felt as though he had a reason to fear what is tangible. it’s a benefit of quite literally being a product of the force; nothing is worth being afraid of. however, that only pertains to what he could stare in the face and go against himself. death isn’t one of those things. for someone who has always had the ability to beat any opponent that comes his way , knowing that there are some things that he can’t battle is torturous , and death is the worst of them all. having to cope with the death of everyone he once knew , suddenly and all at once , was difficult. 

                             but jedi are meant to adapt. 

       being told of padmé’s return lifted a lot of weight off of his shoulders. he doesn’t know when she died , or how , but all he can hope for is that she didn’t suffer a terrible death. part of him feels she didn’t , because anakin was always one step behind her. for him to allow her any way other than peacefully doesn’t make sense , but with the belief that he died during the clone wars burning his mind , he thinks padmé was without him after that. ( she would have been better off if she really had been , but he doesn’t know that. ) 

       he’s only just been told about a certain senator’s return when he finds her. her back is to him , and he doesn’t recognize the cloak that she bears , but somehow , he knows. “ padmé? ” he asks , his voice struggling to remain neutral. it feels as though it’s been both years and seconds since he last saw her , but it doesn’t matter. all he needs to know is that she’s here , really here , and she’s okay. that’s all he ever wanted for her , but guilt still manages to weight down on him because he thinks she had to lose him during the clone wars.

                      she did lose him , but not in the way he thinks. he’d break if he knew.

                                        —— her breath   f  r  o  z  e.                                                                                             padmé knew, she knew that she would come face to face with someone that she knew—someone that she loved. sabé, obi-wan, senator bail, even (  hopefully  ) luke and leia. the thought of anakin returning to her filled her with too many conflicting emotions to really untangle. of course, she loved him with everything she had, and there was so much hope inside of her that he would return to her the man he was, but the chance of him returning to her in a black mask was just as likely to happen. that... was not the anakin she knew.

          (  ❝  you're wrong—how could you even say that?  ❞  )   part of her still couldn't even believe that darth vadar and her ani were one in the same, but there was so much history that she hadn't been apart of, she couldn't be sure. padmé's lack of conviction in her husband had frightened her. there was a large ache in her chest every time she thought about her ani, that seemed to pulse opposite of her heartbeat, never giving her any rest—she had no doubt she still loved him, but... — but padmé was still afraid.

          (  ❝  the thought of not being with you —— i can't breathe  ❞  )   the feeling of her throat closing in on itself chased padmé into her dreams. that look in his eyes, so close after the crushing weight of the knowledge that he had killed younglings, had broken something inside of her. padmé was at fault there. she hadn't been what anakin needed, and so he'd fallen to the machinations of a sick, twisted man that turned one of the brightest lights in the galaxy into something slick and oily, to use as a puppet. the look in anakin's eyes as he screamed at her, lost faith in her, and ultimately tossed her aside haunted her in her dreams, and for a split second she wondered if they'd followed her into her waking hours as well. but the voice—it was all wrong. no, that wasn't quite correct, it was...

          (  ❝  love won't save you ——  ❞  )

                    ❝  —— padmé?  ❞  

          ❝ ... anakin? ❞ — it felt like there were sharp, pointed iciles stabbing straight through her chest as she turned, and for one, faithless second, padmé thought that vader was back to kill her again. they dug deeper when she finally laid eyes on him and her heart seemed to stop in her chest all together. that was—that was her anakin, wasn't it? they wouldn't be so cruel as to—the first order hadn't—padmé couldn't get in a breath for all her efforts, her palm coming up to press against her chest. bail's voice came out of nowhere, her anchor in the senate when there was none, and told her to be calm, really look.

          it looked like her ani, in the prime of his life — of course, padmé's ideal version of anakin would always be the person he'd been on their wedding day, but there were so many merits to the man he'd grown to become. he still had the scar, the one that always drew her gaze and brought with it the desire to rub her thumb over it, in a futile attempt to rub away anything that would hurt him. there was a solidness to his chest that wasn't there on their wedding day, a more confident stance to his shoulders — though that was nowhere in sight at the current moment. most importantly, there wasn't the weight of his fall dragging his feet down, there wasn't the blood-red stain of bags beneath his eyes, there wasn't a near-translucent pallor to his face — the ache in her chest was filled —

        her feet seemed to move on their own — or at least, padmé couldn't recall the moment that she'd decided to run to him, even though she so desperately wanted to. she couldn't see anakin that clearly anymore, but that was more due to the tears than anything. all the fear and confusion padmé had been feeling since her revival seemed to bundle itself in a tight knot in her chest, squeezing her tighter and tighter until she hit the solid wall of her husband's chest, and then she could breathe again. a sob ripped its way out of padmé's chest as she clung to him, her world attempting to reshape itself around the fact that her husband was here—that he was okay—

                    ❝  ani ——  ❞  

[fifty-moons]

e.e. cummings

[nabcrry-blog]

                                              her hand kept s h a k i n g.

          padme watched them with a distant look in her eyes. ever since she woke up, ever since they brought her here—the few times she'd attempted to leave had only met her with deep confusion. there was so much. she'd thought she left the world a better place. padme refused to put all her faith in written word—though she had no doubt there were kernels of truth, it was all too easy to edit history to serve the victor's purpose. but whatever truth there was in the text was... alarming. the republic, turned empire. palpatine, not even the end of the sith lords—the jedi, destroyed. and an—

                                  (   at least it's difficult to smudge white.   )   the thought didn't do much to restore padme's spirits, but it did prompt her to move.

          — the truth was, padme was tired of being lost and confused. the world had gone through a difficult time since she died—was even still trying to claw it's way back from them. she could either sit in here and mope about her personal loss, about what she was greiving for, or she could get off her ass and help. and to do that, she needed a starting point.

          padme quickly capped her nail polish. she hadn't recovered much in the way of fashion, but when "reviving" someone, she couldn't blame them for thinking about something as simple as clothing. what simple cloak she had on would have to do. now that she'd found some wind to put beneath her sails, she was half-afriad that lingering would only let despair sink its dinky little claws into her again. she only took the time to pull her hair up into a tight bun before striding out of her room, hands folded in front of her.

          the fact that she didn't have a destination in mind didn't deter her. she'd find someone to explain this mess, and then she'd find someone she can assist in fixing this mess.

[nabcrry-blog]

✕ … natalie portman … padme naberrie amidala: now arriving in coruscant. she stands with the resistance and is 27 years old according to their chart. past records show that they are known to be selfless and strong-willed, so tread with caution since they are still a politician from naboo …

 ✕ … always wanted to be a politician, though she never dreamed of being queen. as a child, she thought she'd spend her days helping refugee's build big structures that would eventually become their home. she doesn't regret the path in life she's taken; she managed to make sure that steps were in place for every person who wishes to call naboo home in her queenship.

    ✕ … hardcore bisexual, equal opprotunity lover.

    ✕ … went through many smaller pets before her family moved to theed—admittedly they were mostly taken care of by sola, though she did her part. she never had the time or the chance to have another pet, one of her few regrets.

    ✕ … values many of her things, but her true treasures can always be found either on her or in a small, ornate jewelry box she keeps locked and usually slipped in her nightstand. she was buried with most of them. she doesn't find it particularly hard to leave anything else but these objects behind.

    ✕ … despite being a politician for most of her life, has a number of scars that she keeps hidden with either clothes or make-up at any given time.

    ✕ … force sensitive: never enough to ping on any radars as a child, though her connection to the force only grew with her pregnancy. it mainly manifests in empathetic abilities.

    ✕ … felt e v e r y t h i n g that happened, revived with full memories.

    updates below:

[runakvaed-deactivated20210131]

“The Force runs strong in my family.”

[graciekane]

I’m doing it for you.