#𝙰𝙼𝙸𝙳𝙻𝙰. private, low activity, independent roleplaying blog for padmé amidala naberrie from the star wars franchise. canon divergent, headcanon and legends based, takes inspiration from various other written works such as shakespeare’s hamlet and poetry. as written by tammy! 21, gmt, she/her. do not follow if you’re under 18.
google docs, including rules, bio & mains.
hi again
i’m still here kinda. just busy with uni. i’ll see u all soon. anyway free Palestine and rb every single post on ur dash it takes literally 5 seconds
hi all, palestine’s going through a mass genocide right now and really needs help, here are a few ways you can do that
feel free to add on in the notes, notify me if any of the fundraisers listed arent necessary/actually helpful to donate to, and let me know if anything needs added on/modified
as always, if you cant donate then please share and spread awareness
UPDATE: this post has been edited to remove an organization by the UN (details in notes by @petite-elf @forensicfilez )
eid mubarak to my fellow muslims 💖 during this eid, im asking my mutuals to donate here to the Palestinian Children Relief Fund. (click directly donate now). many Palestinians have asked that we donate directly to them, so here’s a link to further fundraisers . [ EDIT: threads are continuously being deleted by social media, please make sure to check for donations verified by Palestinians! ] if you can send me a receipt of your donation my friends and i are going to try and match each donation. if you can’t donate money — here are some video links ( x and x ) where you can watch videos that will donate to Palestine, please don’t skip the video or use ad blockers. keep talking about palestine. thank you in advance and may Allah swt protect the people of Palestine 💖
YOUR HEADER HAS SO MANY FEELS
ah!! thank you!! it’s one of my favourite panels by far and i thought it went well with my description, so if it gave you feels then i did something right :,) ily sm i hope you’re okay!
❝ thank you but i’ll be fine, dr. ziegler, ❞ she knew it was everything but fine: a blaster had caught her between the shoulder, had it been a few inches this or that way, her life surely would have been taken but with a firm tone and a smile that could power the cosmos, she continues. ❝ it’s nothing more than a scratch, i can assure you. ❞
@invctus, for markus.
“ i miss moments like this more than anything. ”
❝ then perhaps allowing yourself to have more breaks may do you some good, obi - wan, and i don’t mean just meditating ——— tea? ❞
dcdpool,
❝ FROM MY MOUTH . ❞ he replied , hands on his chips , chin raised . HE WASN’T STUPID , RIGHT ? ‘ sometimes . ‘ a shake of his head . ❝ am I wrong ? ❞
❝ well, sir, ❞ there’s an awkward pause between the two. on her list of things to deal with today, this certainly was not one of them and yet, a tiny part of her was amused. how the other came to such conclusions was beyond her and she was eager to find out. ❝ i’m curious to know as to what … piqued this interest of yours —- given that i am not married. ❞
❝ mr. rogers, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. please, take a seat — ❞ a smile accompanies her greeting as palms flatten the front of her dress before she sits at her desk, her form basking in the afternoon’s sunlight as she spoke. ❝ i wanted to take a moment to talk to you about damage control, specifically regarding the incident that occurred on may 4th 2012 which, i presume by reading your file, you helped to command alongside director fury, did you not? ❞
@amerishield.
“ i think that i should forward you the information we have – everything that we’ve been working on. perhaps split it between you and mon so that they can’t get a hold of all of it at once , should one of you come under observation. ” there are a thousand things he wants to say to her , and not enough time to get through them. “ and i – in the event that something happens , i want to thank you , padme , for everything. ”
with the delivery of his words, there is an ache in her chest she cannot describe, it was something more than heartbreak but not quite death: a nestling that is clinging onto her ribcage because it isn’t sure if it wants to grieve or morph into a forbidding anger. right now it sat awkwardly at denial, as it does when one is presented with news they didn’t want to face and more so when it came from family. ❝ you don’t need to thank me, bail. there’s a lot that wouldn’t have happened if it were not for you but you needn’t think of that for now. send whatever information you have, and we will come up with a plan for you & your family. we are not giving up. ❞
› @carasyntha sent: ❛ go. run. don’t look behind you. ❜
her breath came in small spurts, hot and nervous. at her side, pale fingers curled into sweaty fists, but her feet remained exactly where they are. behind her, she could hear the baying howls and jeering laughter of those who wanted their heads on sticks; their moves are calculated, swift, and mud smears the helmets of sweaty troopers as they parroted orders from left to right. padmé knows the other isn’t going to like her answer, she also knows a lot of people would have a few choice words for her should this be a path she chooses to go down but against all odds, she stays firmly by cara’s side with only a blaster in hand, her hair matted from the running they had done previously. ❝ i’m not leaving you behind —— ❞
❝ —— not this time. ❞
deathless: not accepting.
“a sharp-edged presence, restless, charged with some half-concealed wistful desire—”
— Denise Levertov, from Life in the Forest; “Part III—April”
dcdpool,
❝ YEAH , YOUR HUSBAND IS HOT … but I still wouldn’t ignore all the RED FLAGS he basically radiates whenever you two inteact . ❞
there’s a pause that lingers somewhere between baffling & awkward, and padmé wasn’t sure which one she felt more. ❝ i’m sorry, my husband? where is this coming from? ❞
iswound,
❝peace —— i’m tired of pulling your teeth, senator. ❞ when her ghost lies with your concussed demons awake, dull eyed and ravenous, every incision her reach carves and wounds her tongue soothes becomes a vicious, hungry mouth.
peace, she vindicates, dismembering the tattered loins of your disjointed rib cage, sinew by sinew, until all the intent her once sun - lined fingers sows, deep into the seeping mulberry of your exposed muscles, becomes a surrogate for each corrupt beat of your fickle, sordid heart.
do you see it now, wound? her knife practices something cleansing, something holy. dismemberment, however, poses its advantage : god gets to see all the dirty parts as she slices your sins lose for all to see, until you’re forced to look at yourself and see that all there is is the hope she’s forcing down your throat.and the look in her eyes, like sunlight through the window, makes you want it too but fuck,your father’s doing something bloody and murderous in the broken flesh of your mouth and he swears that between your first and second fang that i’ll always there, girl, always in you, and you know that as long as he’s hungry you’ll never be good enough for her or the peace she promises you’ll choke on.
GOD SCREAMS AS YOUR SENATOR, LIKE A TREMOUR OF PURE SUNLIGHT, HOLDS YOUR LIVER FOR ALL TO SEE: can’t you see that you want it too, just like the decayed corpse of your father’s ghost? he sees what you see, darling. he knows what you know in ways you don’t know yourself. (you can’t hide from your daddy’s crowbar hands forever, girl. )
❝offering peace alludes to an indication that there’s something you need to atone for too, senator.❞ and in ways too, you want to scream at her : senator, in ways neither of us can ever understand, we have come home. i did this to you in ways you will never understand. lay your liver down at the altar of god and wipe the blood off her trembling hands. whisper into her dying corpse as you coddle her ghost in your tired, wilted arms. wound, try not to wet her with the blood oozing from the wound on your jugular : how did it feel when you died, senator? did you feel me there, too? ask for the purifying cross and your mother’s knife as you plead to her so : senator,senator, we are singing now while naboo burns.
( the cold Force of the jedi temple succumbs to silence under the old sole of your used, tattered boot. the Force molds itself, devouring whatever’s left of your being as you venture closer into it’s old bones. you wonder if it feels her, too. now, you feel it as it shifts and knows what you did. it hungers for vengeance. you welcome it home. ) ❝ i’ll admit to mine if you admit he was yours. ❞
admit it. go on, padmé naberrie, admit it. these are the voices of kingdom come, of the devils who dwell in your heart & mind first. under the bludgeonings of chance, her head is blood but unbowed. how is she to pray when the shattered remains of general skywalker still reached under her clothes and around her throat? what forgiveness is there in a love that still lingers no matter how much one tries to purge it?
a voice whispers in her ear: all things are cleansed with blood, my dearest padmé. this is how you atone for his sins. do as she says. admit it, admit it, admit it.
nausea would creep up on her now if she were alive. his actions were not hers and yet, because of their vows and the red string he refused to cut when he went astray, she became associated with them by proxy —– the senator would always be remembered as the reason why he fell, but rarely as the face of the rebellion that she so wholeheartedly believed in though her words were happily used as teachings. this is what the other believed; this is what people’s souls screamed to padmé in the dead of night.
—– as the silence between them dawdled, she began believing them too: perhaps there was a chance, a slight domino effect, that she could have stopped this. maybe in another life she never fell in love with anakin skywalker or maybe she did, and discouraged any engagement immediately. perhaps then her death would not have sparked a rise in an empire that knew no mercy but then her children ——— shiraya give her strength, please. she does not know if she is brave enough for this.
it is the moons turn to talk to her now: your blood was not his to spill, my child. there is nothing to confess; you are safe with me. come. take my hand. let us leave.
she is stuck in the chorus of a hymn, unsure as to whether or not she should pray or beg.
❝ my admission will not give you peace but ——– yes, he was mine. ❞ she edges closer, echoing a notion of trying to coax the other out, her arms are waiting for a hug, the holding of hands, whatever her companion needed. she speaks with an invocation of ancient naboo. she has listened. ❝ though he is not me, and i am … so, so sorry. ❞
there it is, twelve, your apology laced with atonement, yells shiraya & the gods. padmé cradles the japor snippet between her breast: she is ready to get on her knees and beg, she has decided, if it meant the the cosmos would give her the other’s pain to shoulder for the next millennia.
Natalie Portman as Padmé Amidala Star Wars: Episode III – Revenge of the Sith (2005) dir. George Lucas
