#padme lives

Padme Amidala✨

I think Padme would keep her work with building the rebellion, helping Bail and Mon Mothma built an army and seeking planetary alliances around the edges of the galaxy to avoid Palpatine´s notice, fake her death saying she lost her kid, so she can raise her Luke and Leia in hidding and take every opportunity to bring "Lord Vader" to justice, quicking and screaming if she has to and she isn´t above kidnapping and using herself as bait, she wants to start putting him to nap because she is convinced the Emperor mistreats him, he isn´t as quick in battle as he used to be.

Lord Vader starts openly avoiding her and her rebel cell like the plague, like he is so happy she is alive now that it almost makes up for him falling to the darkside and joining the Empire but "You have to stop Padme, I fell to the darkside, I am evil, it´s over, I am a sith now ok? love you but get away from me. I must obey my Master.

Imperials and rebels alike are in awe of seeing a woman able to make Lord Vader leave a fight. Like, what kind of magic is this? how does she does this?

Sheev meanwhile is confused but kind of enjoying the show(teases Vader every chance he gets) but Padme is safe as long as she doesn´t turn Lord Vader back to the lightside, he is ok and he is quite interested in seeing if they make more descendants. He needs a sith army, dammit.

Obi-Wan would help in raising the kids and shake his head everytime Padme tries and fails to trap Lord Vader, like Padme, he is dead, can´t you see that? but well as long as the kids don´t get hurt and he can train Luke as a Jedi he will not argue the matter much.

Ahsoka is openly multitasking being a fun aunt, expert spy and helping Padme in her self appointed misson of "trap the sith" Skyguy won´t know what hit him when she is done beating him to a pulp for leaving his family and turning evil for the Emperor, what´s wrong with him?

excuse this silly drawing but— once upon a time i thought of a padme!survives au where she raises the twins in tatooine but she has no idea who vader is and it went a little something like this: Padmé eyed her five-year-old daughter from across the table. Leia was in a grumpier mood than usual, evidenced in the way she gripped her spoon tightly and the way she chomped on her breakfast like an angry Sarlaac. (Padmé was reminded of how her baby girl looked a lot like Anakin, especially when she was this way. Her heart clenched at the thought.)

"Leia," Padmé said when she was no longer able to take the silence. "Sweetie, what's wrong?" And where in the galaxy was Luke? Leia grumbled a reply, one that her mother could barely hear. "Use your words, sweetheart," Padmé chastised half-heartedly. "I said," Leia huffed, looking up finally, her brown eyes meeting its identical, yet older, counterpart. "Why didn't you tell me about Daddy?" The admission caught the former senator off-guard.

Padmé's brows furrowed, confused. "What do you mean, baby? Of course I've told you about Daddy." About one side of him, anyway. The one of the kind Jedi Knight, her handsome protector. Of her sweet husband, the love of her life. Of the man who was so excited to have a baby, but had fallen along with the demise of the Republic before he had gotten the chance to know that he was a father of two. "No, Mama," Leia argued. "I mean— why didn't you tell me Daddy was alive?"

Before Padmé got a chance to react, Luke bounded into their small dining area, hands clutching a piece of paper close to his chest. "Mama!" Luke exclaimed excitedly. "Look, I drew Daddy!"

He slammed the tiny piece of paper onto the table.

Padmé paled at what she saw.

She almost balked at the words "DADDY" scribbled in his childlike handwriting, underneath the sketch of the galaxy's most feared.

She took a deep breath after a moment of silence. "Luke," she whispered shakily. Her son had a smile so bright she didn't have the heart to warn him of the man — if Vader even was one? — on paper.

The Empire had little of its propaganda on the sand planet; how in the living Force was Luke able to conjure the image of Palpatine's right hand man? Worse, why was Luke suddenly calling him his father? It didn't make sense.

It was Leia who brought Padmé out of her state of shock. "It's not fair!" the little girl cried. "How come Luke gets to dream of Daddy but not me!"

Padmé was having a hard time comprehending. "You dreamt of him?" She asked Luke, who was still eyeing his work of art proudly.

"Yeah!" Luke nodded his head happily. "I dreamt of him, Mama! He had a big black suit and a glowy red sword and he said he was Daddy!"

"Luke," Padmé started again. Kriff, she didn't want to break his heart. "Are you sure, sweetie? It was only just a dream."

Dreams. Force forbid, Padmé had to deal with another one. The last important dream belonging to a certain someone ended up costing her her entire world.

"I'm sure, Mama," Luke said seriously. "He walked up to me and said, 'Luke, I am your father!' He was very tall! Do you think I can get to be as tall as Daddy, Mama?"

Padmé blinked once. Twice.

After everything she'd ever been through, she didn't think that she'd be caught off guard by anything anymore.

She didn't want to believe it. This was all simply a misunderstanding. Luke had been always wanting to meet his Daddy; maybe her baby boy was just projecting, his wishes manifesting itself in his dreams and imagination.

Not all visions by Force users turned out to be true; she was living proof of that.

Padmé watched as Luke continued to boast about his encounter with his supposed father, Leia pouting in jealousy beside him. Right. Luke was just a boy. It was only just a dream. She could already see the difficult conversation ahead with her twins.

Ahsoka didn’t pull her hand back. It trembled in the air, her palm stinging, her eyes burning with a fierce, protective rage.

"Don’t you dare," she hissed, her voice cracking. "Don't you dare sit there and tell me your life is just a political chip to be traded. Don’t you dare tell me that being my brother was just another form of slavery."

Anakin didn’t look at her. He stared at the floor, the red mark beginning to bloom on his pale, scarred cheek. "Ahsoka—"

"No!" she cut him off, leaning in close, ignoring the way he flinched. "You want to talk about logic? The logic of the 'monster'? Fine. A monster doesn't feel guilt, Anakin. A monster doesn't sit in a cell and beg for death because it can’t live with what it’s done. The man who tried to kill me on Malachor... that was the machine Sidious built. But the man sitting in front of me right now? That’s my big brother. And I am not letting you go again."

Padmé stepped forward then. She didn't try to touch him this time, sensing the invisible wall of lightning and trauma that surrounded him, but she knelt so she was at his eye level.

"You think death is freedom, Ani?" she asked softly. Her voice was the only thing that could still pierce through the static of his conditioning. "Death isn't freedom. It’s an escape. You’ve spent your whole life being used by people who wanted your power. If we execute you, we’re just the last ones to use you. We’re not the Empire. We don't discard people when they're broken."

Rex, who had been standing like a statue near the door, finally spoke. His voice was gruff, heavy with the weight of a thousand battles. "I watched my brothers turn, General. I watched them become things they weren't, because of chips in their heads and orders they couldn't refuse. I didn't execute them for being victims of a war they didn't ask for. I tried to save them."

Rex took a step closer, his boots clicking on the metal floor. "You were the Asset for a long time, sir. But the war is different now. We’re not fighting for the Republic or the Empire. We’re fighting for people. And you’re one of them."

Anakin finally looked up, his blue eyes bloodshot and brimming with a bottomless agony. "You don't understand," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Every time I close my eyes, I see the Jedi Temple. I see the younglings. I see the worlds I burned. I can still hear the screams... they're part of me now. I am those screams."

He looked at his hands, locked in high-tensile binders. "If you let me live, you’re keeping a ghost alive. I'm already dead. Anakin died the day I knelt to him."

"Then we'll haunt the galaxy together," Ahsoka said, her voice softening as she sat down on the floor of the cell, refusing to leave him in his isolation. "Because I'm not leaving. And neither is Padmé. And neither is Rex."

Anakin shook his head, a sob finally breaking through his chest, racking his entire frame. The restraints rattled as he collapsed inward, the weight of his sins crushing him. "Why? Why won't you just let me go?"

Padmé reached out, and this time, though he shivered, he didn't pull away when her fingers brushed his forehead.

"Because we remember the boy who gave a queen a carved japor snippet," she whispered. "We remember the hero who never gave up on his friends. And we know that as long as you're breathing, there is a chance to do something you've never been allowed to do, Anakin."

He looked at her, terrified. "What?"

"To choose," she said firmly. "For the first time in your life, you are going to choose who you are. Not a slave, not a Jedi, not a Sith. Just Anakin. And we’re going to stay right here until you’re ready to start."

Anakin leaned his head back against the cold wall, closing his eyes. The darkness was still there, Darth vader’s programming still humming in the back of his mind like a dormant virus. But for the first time in decades, the silence in the room wasn't cold. It was warm. It was heavy. It was home.

He didn't believe in redemption. He didn't believe he deserved their love. But as he sat there, flanked by the three people he had hurt the most, he realized they weren't going to give him the easy way out. They were going to make him live.

Hi tumblr fam. I need your help. I’ve haven’t been an AU-seeker of Anidala fan fics in 20 years.

But I guess my machoism finally reached its peak today. During my theatrical showing of Revenge of the Sith, I SCREAMED (in my head) at Padmé to Please please please don’t get off the ship on Mustafar. I come to you now a blubbering mess, needing your best recommendations of ROTS AUs.

I don’t even know where to start my quest. The archives on AO3 and FFN are massive. Help me, Anidala community. You’re my only hope.

The only plots I’m not interested in are time travel fics, especially ones where Luke and Leia are sent back in time.

I need Padmé to live and eventually be reunited with Anakin/her kids. Beyond that— Anakin still falling to the dark side/Anakin never falling to the dark side, Padme going into hiding/Padme openly leading the rebellion, Vader in a suit/Vader NOT in a suit, Padme faking her death, anything—all up for grabs.

Just plz recommend me a great AU Anidala story, with as faithful character depiction as possible (meaning Dark Padmé/Lady Vader is probably out, but if you REALLY think I should check it out, I will), and an eventual happy ending. 

Cause rn, I’m kinda like this:

“I am here with you, my son,” said those gentle tones, and Piett’s entire body clenched in horrified anticipation.

The monster was gentle before it sank its terrible teeth into his flesh, rending his muscle from his bones…

It would remove its mask and there would be that hideous mouth, teeth ready to maul him to death.

He fought his chains, and ended up throwing himself against the bars of the cage.

The cage.

It was all too familiar.

Surely his lungs were going to explode from his exertions as his chest heaved with panic.

Over and over he had faced this, and always the laughter had echoed in the background…

“Firmus.”

“No!” he sobbed, burying his face into his knees.

He knew it was futile. Every time he tried not to look, he was forced to.

A sigh.

Well that was different.

The monster had never sighed before. It had just surged forward, spittle flying from its wide jaws…

He heard rustling.

Robes.

“I will sit here and wait until you are ready to look at me, my son,” said the monster. “But I will never force you. This I promise you, dear one.”

This too was different.

Choice had been stripped from him.

Somewhere in the recesses of his shredded mind and soul, a tiny spark flickered.

No matter how hard he’d tried to kill it himself, he had been unable to.

Hope was a stubborn bastard.