Thinking about Stannis being born a generation earlier and being the light of Grandpa Maekar's life. Gets fostered at Summerhall. Every time he unhorses Robert in the lists Grandpa Lyonel loses a year off his lifespan but then remembers to celebrate because Stannis is his grandson too.
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For real, are we meant to think the Second Republic just... kept that particular prison system. Or that they decided lifelong slave labour was okay if you were Truly Bad. And, if so, doesn't that defeat the point of the season 1 Narkina arc. Where I at least THINK the point is that Cruel and Unusual punishment is wrong in all cases, hence why we're not told the crimes or non-crimes of the men who aren't Cassian? Like... that we simply shouldn't have a society that thinks torture and slave labour is okay EVER?
I have a chronic case of Seeing Where People Are Coming From even when they're wrong, so I have some thoughts on this:
Sometimes I don't think Dedra's imprisonment was supposed to be interpreted as "justice." I think it was supposed to be like, "see, there is no justice under the Empire because even its most faithful servant got eaten by the system, and not even for her actual crimes." But because all we see is one short scene of her breaking down in Narkina, it comes across as "she got what she deserved," therefore undermining Cassian's Narkina arc like Maria said.
My headcanon is that the New Republic did in fact get rid of the Narkina prison system, but canonically the Empire didn't fall until 5 ABY, about six years after Dedra is locked up. And again, we have no confirmation of that happening or Dedra living that long (though I prefer to think she did). We can't prove her fate totally contradicted the show's anti-carceral message, but we can't prove it didn't, and Gilroy should have thought of that.
So rarely do people who conduct genocide go to prison in real life that I wonder if Dedra's ending was meant to be wish fulfillment, kind of like how Law & Order: SVU provides wish fulfillment for people who want to see sexual predators face legal consequences, which is also way too rare. But of course, that's not an excuse for Syril and Krennic both being physically aggressive with Dedra (and that being portrayed as an okay consequence for lying to your partner or breaking the rules at work is just... yucky). Also, Luthen did a genocide, and even though him "burning his decency" was the thesis statement of his arc, he had a say in how his story ended.
This has already been discussed at length by the Dedra corner of Andor fandom, but it bears repeating that she's the only Imperial character we know of who was indoctrinated into fascism as a child, in a system that was probably very similar to the kinderblock. So for her to be the one who gets subjected to cruel and unusual punishment when she had way less agency than other Imperials from day one doesn't sit right.
I think Dedra's ending could have gone down more smoothly if:
she hadn't been a victim of gender-based violence (and if the difference in her and Bix's reactions to such violence didn't have a "you don't deserve to defend yourself if you're evil" vibe)
there was any confirmation that the New Republic got rid of the Narkina prisons
her lifelong lack of agency was fleshed out with actual backstory instead of just a few sentences she told Eedy in 2x03
we actually got to see her hunting for Axis for a year before she found him
we got any indication that prison ironically gave her more of a support system than she'd ever had apart from Syril, which is possible because in Narkina you have to be a team player to avoid being tortured
This isn't necessarily a defense of Dedra's ending because I don't think there was a "most correct" ending for her. Obviously one of the show's goals was to have all the Imperials get their faces eaten by leopards, and Krennic's death in Rogue One set that precedent years before Andor even started.
I'm not sure if that means Dedra should have just been killed off like the rest of them instead of being sentenced to an unknown period of suffering (which I'm sure was supposed to be karmic payback for enjoying Bix's suffering in season 1). I have a feeling Gilroy thought her death would have been too close to a "happy ending" for the show's most devout fascist, because death technically would have reunited her with Syril.
I think a lot of storytelling choices in season 2 beyond just Dedra's arc would have been alleviated by at least one more season. The hyper-condensed timeline led to lazy plot choices that disproportionately impacted female characters. That's the only thing I can say with 100% certainty.
Hi, I just want to give my two cents here.
I think that the concept of Justice in SW was made to emulate our own system through the ages just like Lucas first envisioned - and here I'm not just talking about the original trilogy, but the prequel too for its touches of economics and political making.
So, the prisional system wasn't made to be fair, but to be controlling. Foucault used to say that already in the 70's I wouldn't be surprised if some of it migrated to Lucas' storytelling since most of his plot was a way to denounce fascism.
About SW, specifically, we see through the movies AND the series a strong similarity between the Empire and many empires/kingdoms through our History that suffered from the same problem - supplies.
We dealt through slavery, mass production, technology and the usage of prison labor. Does that sound familiar? Narkina wasn't just a way to show us that the Empire was "evil". It was a not so subtle pointing to our own History.
I discussed with @nymphl about Dedra, and we both agree that Dedra being incarcerated for life was mistake. Being a traitor, she should have being sent to the death squad instead - but Gilroy and many others had already shown us how the Empire was reluctante to kill anyone who could be useful.
We see planets struggling to produce and survive - even planets in the outer rim were negociating with the Empire and that was happen because after decades of political unrest and Civil War, there was no way that the Estate could keep with all the demands of such a large territory, clones, robots or not.
About the liberation of the Narkina prisioners after the ending of the Empire, supposing that Dedra was still alive - again, she wouldn't be liberated - because, genodicer - and also because after any coup (and I'm using this term since every fall of Government it is considered a coup), only the political prisioners anti-Government are liberated.
Galeano, in his papers about international interference in the making of ditatorships in Latin America discusses extensively about it. Also, published in the 70's. Are we seing a pattern here?
Oh well, all the others prisioners in real life - and maybe in SW too - remain in prision. If, and a big if here, there is a demand for free-workers, the new government will review their own laws and maybe release some prisioners under special circumstaces, such as parole, anisty, etc. It's not because they are "good".
Krennic's death was more about literacy than anything else. The Creator being killed by his Creature. There's also a paralel about the Empire being dismantled by its own internal politics of killing whoever makes a mistake - the Alliance didn't win the war, the Empire lost.
But that's another kind of discussion.
Bad Reality | A Krennic x Kleya story available on AO3
Just a silly meme for my story. Those of you who are Brazilians will certainly catch the reference immediately. For those of you who are not, this comes from a popular Brazilian soap opera called Senhora do Destino, in which the villain steals a baby from their family. Even if you never heard of the soap opera, you probably know the popular meme Math Lady or Confused Blonde.
Back to my fic, Since AlterKleya bonds quickly with Karim, @cliotris commented Kleya's def NOT Brazilian, otherwise she'd have stolen Karim from Krennic already.
Summary: The Death Star is operational. Luthen dies because of this piece of information. And Kleya wakes up in a new reality in which none of it matters, because neither of these things has happened. Sheâs married to the architect of destruction: Orson Krennic. Actually, itâs much worse: they have a son together and sheâs never been part of the Rebellion. Tethered to a reality that makes absolutely no sense, Kleya has no option except to use what she knows and her abilities to bring down the man who now shares her bed. The question is: can she? Will she?
[Krennic x Kleya | Domaystic 2026 | Alternate Reality | Told in Prompts]
Chapter V - Bad Attachment is already posted! Read here.
A porn with a smidge of plot where Krennic believes he has all the cards. A Krennic/Kleya fic, ofc.
Seven Minutes
There is something truly exciting about being subjected to Kleyaâs stare.
He is used to being desired â for his status, for his own sex appeal, it has always been easy to provoke such a response from others. Since his days in the Academy, people have tried to get him for his body or brain, especially now that his influence is no small thing.
The fact is that power is attractive, and that is what he exudes from every inch of his skin. It amuses him that they donât realize their own attractiveness to him relies entirely on the power he has over them.
Kleya is another story.
A pretty little thing that caught his eye while shopping one afternoon and that he couldnât stop himself from acquiring her too.
He supposes he was not the first to try it. But he was the one to actually get her. That should imply her happiness or, at least, tenderness.
Her prickly nature makes it impossible.
Krennic has never had a pet before Kleya. He knew that one would demand attention and time that he doesnât have.
But how can he resist when every time he holds out his hand thereâs a chance that itâll be batted away?
Thatâs surely the reason why he is here on his knees between her spread legs, caressing her thighs while watching her unbutton that stuffy undershirt.
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you're owen lars. your father has fallen in love with a woman and she's enslaved. you and your father aren't rich, but eventually you manage to free her. this one woman. one woman on a planet full of injustices.
you're owen lars. the woman you call mom had another child once. it doesn't make her love you less, but she talks about him in a way that makes it clear that she loved him, too. he's off to be a jedi now and she's very proud.
you're owen lars. your mother's been kidnapped and you have to assume the worst. a man and a woman step into your home and the man announces himself to be that kid who went off to become a jedi. he knows you less than you know him and before anything else can happen, he takes off to bring back his mother, a feat you think is impossible.
you're owen lars. anakin skywalker brings your mom's corpse to your doorstep. her funeral is interrupted by a message of utmost galactic importance.
you're owen lars. your brother is dead. you never saw him again after that first time. there is another jedi on your doorstep, with a baby in his arm and you know what it means and you can't bring yourself to face him as he hands your nephew off to your wife.
you're owen lars. obi-wan ben kenobi is a pain in the ass. he was more your brother's brother than you ever were and he doesn't understand your particular kind of grief, is drowning in his own. you don't even know the full story and kenobi will never tell you all of it. but you have a child to care for so you tell him off and get back to work.
you're owen lars. you didn't know your brother, but you know your nephew and your nephew wants out of this place as soon as possible. you know he won't be safe out there but in the end you're helpless to stop him. and you know the stories, you remember the one time you met him, the days your mother died. and you do this for her and you do this for your father and you do this for your brother and you do this for your nephew.
you're owen lars. your last act is to protect your brother's child. your child.
i like when fiction treats love as a more complicated force and not something that is inherently pure or redemptive. portray it as flawed and complex as any other human impulse. give me love as prejudice, love as possessive stasis, love as addiction, love as blindness, etc.
at that, i find it disingenuous to frame it as âif the person hurt you they could not have loved you. that is not love.â just not a productive definition of the word to me
âAnd how do you plan to deal with this delay, Lord Vader?â
tbh I really donât know how to headcanon obi-wanâs position in the empire if he was a sith.
He would have more power over Vader (not necessarily by rank), thatâs for sure.
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A porn with a smidge of plot where Krennic believes he has all the cards. A Krennic/Kleya fic, ofc.
Seven Minutes
There is something truly exciting about being subjected to Kleyaâs stare.
He is used to being desired â for his status, for his own sex appeal, it has always been easy to provoke such a response from others. Since his days in the Academy, people have tried to get him for his body or brain, especially now that his influence is no small thing.
The fact is that power is attractive, and that is what he exudes from every inch of his skin. It amuses him that they donât realize their own attractiveness to him relies entirely on the power he has over them.
Kleya is another story.
A pretty little thing that caught his eye while shopping one afternoon and that he couldnât stop himself from acquiring her too.
He supposes he was not the first to try it. But he was the one to actually get her. That should imply her happiness or, at least, tenderness.
Her prickly nature makes it impossible.
Krennic has never had a pet before Kleya. He knew that one would demand attention and time that he doesnât have.
But how can he resist when every time he holds out his hand thereâs a chance that itâll be batted away?
Thatâs surely the reason why he is here on his knees between her spread legs, caressing her thighs while watching her unbutton that stuffy undershirt.
I love you weird fanfiction. I love you unpopular kink. I love you unsanitized sex scenes. I love you fics that the mean girls make fun of on twitter. I love you monster fucking. I love you daddy kinks and foot fetishes and water sports. I love you stories about complex human emotions and bad choices with no consequences and characters hurting each other. I love you threesomes or polycules. I love you rare pairs. I love you furry art. I love you dark fantasies. I love you kink thatâs so specific and self indulgent it was clearly written just for the person writing it. I love you ships that people think you shouldnât be allowed to ship. I love you anyone who has the courage to put their art into a public space when that art is weird, or dark, or taboo, or something that will be considered unacceptable by the puritanical fandom police.
âŠYou may not remember me right now. But I remember everything about you, KleyaâŠ
Bad Reality | A Krennic x Kleya story available on AO3
Summary: The Death Star is operational. Luthen dies because of this piece of information. And Kleya wakes up in a new reality in which none of it matters, because neither of these things has happened. Sheâs married to the architect of destruction: Orson Krennic. Actually, itâs much worse: they have a son together and sheâs never been part of the Rebellion. Tethered to a reality that makes absolutely no sense, Kleya has no option except to use what she knows and her abilities to bring down the man who now shares her bed. The question is: can she? Will she?
[Krennic x Kleya | Domaystic 2026 | Alternate Reality | Told in Prompts]
Chapter IV - Bad Signals is already posted! Read here. Prompt - Unspoken Message
Here is chapter 4 of Bad Reality, an Alternate Reality fic based on @domaystic prompts.
PS: Gif for the baby was taken from this Brazilian Ad here. Go watch it. You're not gonna regret it.
Feeling like shit today, but I decided to post something because everything can wait but fanfic... This is a short snippet from the fourth chapter of The Merry Widower where Krennic does what he does best.
Summary:
The rich and powerful of Coruscant have always fought for control â mostly for power, occasionally for profit, and quite often for sport.
But when the death of a prominent politician threatens to tip the balance, the not-so-quiet citizens of the capital begin to grow uneasy.
Naturally, the solution devised by Father Luthen is perfectly reasonable, entirely sensible⊠and destined to make sure a certain Director would pay for everything he had done until then.
The weather report for Coruscant had not exactly been unkind for the dayâs event, allowing that some sunlight would be filtered through the clouds and bathe the stalls in a white light akin to the artificial illumination that so many favored nowadays.
The heavy humidity was not enough to stop the speeches rolling through the lines and hordes of people, filling every space with their saturated laughter. The metallic cloth of the Chandrilan dignitaries didnât blend well with the stark white of the Imperial officer, and the resulting clash of many insignia colors was more than enough to cause a migraine.
âSir⊠is it true that you founded this charity with your own means?â
Microphones piled up.
âSir, is this your comeback to public life?â
Bodies pressed against each other in their eagerness to hear.
âAre you taking over the charity previously overseen by Senator Mothma?â
That granted a few seconds of silence, as nothing else could have drawn so much attention â except, perhaps, the sympathetic smile of a widower lowering his voice so the holocameras would tighten on his face.
 âMy late wife was a paragon of compassion for the destitute,â blue eyes flashed against the light â âand I willâ a finger shook in tandem â ânotâ â shoulders thrown back â âallow such work to be wasted.â â A gloved fist clenched in front of his chest. âThat was my last promise to her.â
She couldnât shake off Luthenâs wordsâcouldnât shake how they messed with her.
The Rebellion was her entire lifeâshe denied herself love, affection, intimacy for it.
She didnât care. She didnât need any of It.
She needed the Empire to fall. That was all that mattered.
And now Luthen took it away from her. Like he took her parents from her once.
He was, once more, sweeping everything she knew from under her feet.
And she was supposed to what? Thank him?
Because she had Krennic? Because she was a mother?
Sheâd never asked for thatâfor them.
And yet, as she turned off the hair dryer the sound of happy giggles and water being played with dragged her to the refresher in the nursery before she could control herself.
She expected to find Karim giving the nanny droid a hard time.
She didnât expect to find Krennic soaked from head to toe as Karim hit the water with his chubby hands, making a mess of the refresher and his father.
When the child spotted her, he hit his tiny fists one final time in the water with all his might, before raising his arms and letting out the happiest of the squeals.
âMama!â
Water flew across Krennicâs face and he coughed a little, spitting on the floor. He shook his head and looked at her over his shoulder.
The expression that stared back at her made her purse her lips into a thin line to avoid laughing.
Karim continued to move his arms excitedly, begging to be taken in her arms. Krennic shifted his attention back to him and took him out of the tub. He kicked his legs, wetting everyone further. Droplets of water hit her cheek.
Kleya got a towel nearby and wrapped it around him, drying his little face carefully as he continued to babble. The nanny droid beeped just outside the refresher, ready to get him into its many arms. He fussed a little, but settled when the nanny droid started humming, its voice eerily similar to hers.
She and Krennic reached for another towel at the same time. He let his fingers slide away as she grabbed the fabric. She didnât think, she just actedâbringing it to dry his face.
His intense blue eyes bore into hers, and his hand came up to covers hers, before she could move away.
She didnât.
Not this time.
Bad Reality | A Krennic x Kleya story is available on AO3.
Itâs WIP Wednesday babe!!! And here am with yet another snippet for my lil alternate reality written for the domaystic challenge.
Because Iâm having too much fun with it and Karim is a cutie obsessed with his Mama. And why not throw a scene with Krennic all wet while weâre at it? As long as Karim is having the time of his life I donât think he minds⊠much.
For those wondering about BH, Iâve the chapter outlined, but I didnât sit down to write it. Between work and getting sick yet again, I didnât do much these days. Iâm not even past episode 1 in my Andor rewatch.
If anyone is interested in @domaystic 2026, if you go to their profile you can see the list of prompts.
Chapter IV - Bad Signals will be updated this Friday. You can read the first three chapters here.
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Anya is LIVE right now
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Feeling like shit today, but I decided to post something because everything can wait but fanfic... This is a short snippet from the fourth chapter of The Merry Widower where Krennic does what he does best.
Summary:
The rich and powerful of Coruscant have always fought for control â mostly for power, occasionally for profit, and quite often for sport.
But when the death of a prominent politician threatens to tip the balance, the not-so-quiet citizens of the capital begin to grow uneasy.
Naturally, the solution devised by Father Luthen is perfectly reasonable, entirely sensible⊠and destined to make sure a certain Director would pay for everything he had done until then.
The weather report for Coruscant had not exactly been unkind for the dayâs event, allowing that some sunlight would be filtered through the clouds and bathe the stalls in a white light akin to the artificial illumination that so many favored nowadays.
The heavy humidity was not enough to stop the speeches rolling through the lines and hordes of people, filling every space with their saturated laughter. The metallic cloth of the Chandrilan dignitaries didnât blend well with the stark white of the Imperial officer, and the resulting clash of many insignia colors was more than enough to cause a migraine.
âSir⊠is it true that you founded this charity with your own means?â
Microphones piled up.
âSir, is this your comeback to public life?â
Bodies pressed against each other in their eagerness to hear.
âAre you taking over the charity previously overseen by Senator Mothma?â
That granted a few seconds of silence, as nothing else could have drawn so much attention â except, perhaps, the sympathetic smile of a widower lowering his voice so the holocameras would tighten on his face.
 âMy late wife was a paragon of compassion for the destitute,â blue eyes flashed against the light â âand I willâ a finger shook in tandem â ânotâ â shoulders thrown back â âallow such work to be wasted.â â A gloved fist clenched in front of his chest. âThat was my last promise to her.â