#Turning Point Trilogy

[triscribe]

Trials of Youth Ch1

(...so. So far my attempts to get in a good headspace to finish this book's second draft have not gone well, which means it's time to take drastic action. Hence, sharing the first handful of chapters here, and seeing if my friends having someplace to screech and ask what's next will help)

Dawn bloomed.

In the southern plains, sitting near the very top of a cottonwood tree, a girl admired how light spread across the land, transforming everything by simple use of illumination. When enough time had passed that she could see her surroundings clearly, the fourteen year old turned and looked down.

“Fren! Time to get up, lazy-bones!” A muffled grunt was the only response. Rolling her eyes, the girl started to climb downward, swiftly passing her own hammock to crouch beside the one below. With a teasing grin, she started to push at it, swinging the cloth and its inhabitant from side to side. “Frennnn.”

“Mm’up.” A hand and arm were stretched up out of the mess of blankets, before flopping back over.

“Freniden Brusan, if you don’t wake up in the next thirty seconds, I’m tipping this thing over and dumping you out of it.”

Bunched-up cloth and curly black hair were pushed aside so that her friend could direct his glare towards the girl. “You wouldn’t.”

“I most certainly would.”

“We’re twenty feet in the air, Tali!”

“Then you’ll just have to use your all-powerful wizardly talents to keep from getting injured.” She released her hold on the hammock and stood. “Now come on!”

“Alright, alright, I’m getting up,” the younger boy grumbled, kicking his blankets off and reaching for his bag, hanging from a nearby branch. “I swear, everyone in your family is a lunatic, rising at dawn and ordering other people to do the same...”

“I’m sorry, does this come as a surprise to you?” Laughing, Tali climbed back up to avoid the smelly sock Fren threw in her direction. Within a few minutes, both children had donned their outer traveling clothes and rolled up their hammocks, stuffing the bulky bundles into Fren’s enchanted satchel. Once they’d clambered back down to the ground, the wizardling pulled out some hard biscuits and dried meat for their breakfast.

“So,” he asked around a mouthful of food. “Now that we’ve successfully gotten too far from the city for your father’s search parties to find, do we have a destination in mind to start looking for this missing sister of yours?”

Tali frowned thoughtfully. “Well, much as I want to find Lillia, we could stop by your old home first, visit your family-” She stopped when Fren snorted.

“Bad idea. My relatives wouldn’t let us leave for at least the better part of a month, which I know would drive you insane.”

“It would?”

“Oh, yes. Nothing interesting ever happens in Fammon.”

“Well, fine then, if you don’t want to see your uncle and aunt and cousins, we’ll just go straight north.”

Fren raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? That’s all the great Petalia Crant can come up with?”

“That’s all we need,” Tali argued, looking ahead with a fierce expression. “We go north.”

“I’m starting to have second thoughts about running off with you...”

“Too late to change your mind now!” Tali playfully punched her friend’s shoulder, and giggled when the chubby boy pretended to stagger.

“Hey! Easy with those muscles of yours! I may have extra padding, but that doesn’t mean it won’t get bruised!”

“Oh, quit being such a whiner.”

“Bully.”

“Wimp!”

“Aquimbe!” Before Tali could blink, a spray of water caught her in the face. She spluttered, ducking away as Fren cackled. The spell ended after a moment, water spout fading back into nothing, though the girl remained very much wet.

“That,” she declared, wiping at her face with the edge of her cape, “Was so not fair.”

“Forgive me for wanting to get the upper hand just once,” Fren grinned.

The pair continued to banter as they walked on, eventually finding a road heading in the right direction. Tali checked it over for recent tracks while Fren whispered a quick scanning spell for nearby people. Neither of them found any signs of fellow travelers.

“Should we risk it?” The wizardling asked. His friend shrugged.

“May as well.”

Winding as it may have been, the road nonetheless took them north, and the pair made good time. By mid-morning, they’d covered several miles, and stopped for a water break on top of a shallow hill. When she handed back the water skin, Tali decided to climb another tree, to get a look at their new surroundings.

The girl had only gotten part way up the trunk, though, when something not too far away caught her eye.

Fren flinched as she suddenly landed beside him, fumbling the water skin and nearly dropping it. He didn’t have any time to ask what she’d seen before Tali was dashing off down the hill. Scrambling, Fren hurried after. A few minutes later, they rounded a bend in the road, and he too saw what had grabbed his friend’s attention.

A small, weather-beaten wagon was stuck, one of its front wheels trapped by a deep crack in the earth. The driver, a wrinkled old goblin, strained as she tried to pull it free without much success. Harnessed to the front of the wagon, her horse saw the two human youths first, and whinnied.

“Hello there!” Tali called, slowing her steps as she approached. “Could we offer you a hand?”

The goblin, who’d paused at her horse’s sudden warning, looked over in surprise. “I wouldn’t mind a bit if you did! I just need a tad more oomph to lift it free, I think.”

Tali immediately stepped to her side, crouching in order to get a good grip on the frame of the wagon before glancing over her shoulder. “C’mon, Fren, hurry up.”

He rolled his eyes. “Wizard student, remember? Elvitaere.” A soft yellow light sprang from the pendant tied around his left wrist, enveloping the wagon and causing it to slowly float into the air.

“Oh my,” the goblin gaped. 

Huffing at her friend’s dramatics, Tali nonetheless pushed the wagon’s side, nudging it away from the hole. As soon as all four wheels were over even ground again, Fren ended the spell, letting the wagon gently set back down. The old goblin clapped her hands in delight.

“That was wonderful!” She gushed. “Saved my poor back and everything! Thank you so much, dearies.”

“You’re very welcome,” Tali said. “Is there anything else we could help you with?”

“Well, now I feel silly, but I’d emptied out everything I could to make this old hunk lighter - I don’t suppose the two of you would mind giving me a hand putting it all back, would you?”

Blinking, Fren leaned over to look at the other side of the road. Sure enough, several blankets were spread across the ground, dozens upon dozens of books and knick-knacks and other peddler’s goods piled atop them. He gave Tali a side-eyed glance, and sighed when she glared back.

“Happy to be of assistance, ma’am.”

[triscribeaucollection]

New post pointing to my original book for anyone who wanders over from AO3 this month:

"Ash and ice, hang it all," Crant growled. "Mentras, I need you to hold onto this for me." She bent over to yank the folded parchment from her boot, and shoved it into the goblin's hands before he had time to protest.

"Whoa, wait, hold on! What are you going to do?" His voice went up in pitched as he watched her take several steps back.

"Something incredibly stupid."

(There are too few moments when we get to witness someone make a life-changing decision. Because, perhaps, there are too few moments when such a thing occurs...)

[triscribe]

You are very, very welcome, and I hope you enjoy the story and not just the extra goodies! But after the library book of course, I understand how the order of these things goes xD

There's something undeniably special about getting to read a book written by a friend.

Thanks @triscribe ! Looking forward to reading it!

(After I finish The Killings at Kingfisher Hill, because that book has to go back to the library, and this beauty I get to keep.)

[phoenixkaptain]

The scene of Anakin turning back to the Light and saving Luke is such a beautiful scene in so many ways, but especially from a character standpoint.

If you look at Darth Vader just in the movies, he doesn’t do things without a plan. He has a step two. Even if his step two is immensely dumb, he always seems to at least have some form of an idea where he wants to end up; he has a point B he’s trying to reach.

Part of what makes Vader a terrifying villain is that he always seems to anticipate what his opponent will do. He seems to know what they’ll do before they even think about what they’ll do. Very rarely is Darth Vader ever taken by surprise. Darth Vader is the character who proves how scary the Force can be. While Palpatine uses his Force lightning and can predict what his opponents will do, he never quite reaches the level Anakin is on, he never reaches that peak of knowing the next five steps his opponent is going to take, even as those next five steps change.

Palpatine doesn’t see Vader turning on him coming. Palpatine is not a Force user who can see the future, he uses the predictions Darth Plagueis made and he sticks to the outline provided by his former Master. He does everything he does and believes everything will be fine and has complete confidence in himself because Plagueis was just that good at predicting the future.

Darth Vader literally changes the future. He makes those predictions false. Him throwing Palpatine down a reactor shaft wasn’t in the books, him choosing his son wasn’t an option, the idea that a Sith lord as powerful as Darth Vader could turn back from the Dark Side is believed by the Jedi and Sith alike to be impossible. Darth Vader himself doesn’t even believe that he can turn back from the Dark Side. The only character who ever believes that Darth Vader can come back is Luke.

Darth Vader is fifteen steps ahead of his opponents. It’s very rare that he ever gets surprised. He always has a plan.

But when he saves Luke, he isn’t any of that. He leaps in without a plan, without any ideas of where he’s goung. He doesn’t know what will happen except that he’ll probably die. He doesn’t have a way out of this. This is the first time Anakin Skywalker ever does anything without already having a way out or immediately being able to come up with a way out.

Anakin was hotheaded and impulsive, yes, but Anakin from his introduction always has a plan B. And when he doesn’t have a plan B, he makes one. He is by far the most competent character in Star Wars, just from his ability to get himself and others out of trouble.

In the moment of turning back from the Dark, Anakin is listening to the Force. He’s listening to the Force as it tells him to save someone. The universal call to the Jedi, the inexplicable push that all Jedi feel and what ultimately led to the majority of Jedi dying, just because they couldn’t not listen when the Force told them to help. Anakin finally listens to it, finally answers it, he finally acts like a Jedi.

There’s no step two. There’s no way out. Doing this will end in his death. Darth Vader is already injured, and the only one who has the resources to put him back together is Sidious. To save Luke, Vader has to step into the lightning, which he knows all to well will ruin his suit. Choosing to save Luke is tantamount to choosing to die.

And he does it. He hesitates, but ultimately, he sacrifices himself for someone else. He goes in knowing that this won’t end with him being able to get out. He has no way out. There’s no plan B. His suit has gone from keeping him alive to being part of the reason he’s dying. He takes off his helmet accepting that he’ll die and being happy to die because he’s finally at peace, he finally feels the warmth of the Force, he finally sees his son with his own eyes, his son is finally looking at him with nothing but trust and worry for his wellbeing, he’s right where he wants to be.

He went from wanting to posess Luke to just being happy that Luke is there with him. That Luke is the one by his side when he dies, that he’s dying on the same side as Luke — Anakin is fine with this. He’s ready to die. He’s accepted it. He’s just happy that the last thing he’ll see is the product of his and Padme’s love for each other.

The scenes of Anakin in Return of the Jedi are beautiful. The title “Return of the Jedi” is so great for this movie, it’s perfect, okay, you don’t understand. It has so many meanings!! The Jedi returning could be referring to Luke, the main Jedi we follow, returning to the screen, or to Tatooine. It could be referring to the Jedi Order, since Luke takes on Yoda’s request to share his knowledge with others and, with Sidious dead, the Jedi Order has functionally returned, even if it is only one member strong. It could refer to Yoda returning, it could refer to Obi-Wan returning.

Or, Return of the Jedi could be referring to Anakin. Anakin Skywalker, the son of the Force. Anakin Skywalker, the only character powerful enough to change the future itself, the only Sith Lord powerful enough to stop being a Sith Lord. Anakin Skywalker, who has always done impossible things, who has always performed impossible feats, who is himself impossible. And he’s back. He’s returned. The Jedi returned.

[fantasy-nerdddd]

The rooftop scene(s)

Today I'll talk about the rooftop scenes. Mainly the first one, from The Hunger Games, but a bit of both. Both of them are quite passable at first, but mean a lot, each in their own way.

In Catching Fire, Chapter 11, Peeta says to Katniss while working on the plant book: "You know, I think this is the first time we've done something normal together." Well, the rooftop scene is the first time they have done anything fun together. Not drawing some plants, not staring at each other's eyelashes (cough cough KATNISS YOU THIRSTY LITTLE GIRL), two teenagers laughing and having fun together just days before they need to go into an arena and kill each other. So rebellious, having fun with your opponent and getting closer before the games, just behind using CPR in the arena. Also, it is the first insight that there's something more going on. Because for Effie to not to train Katniss on walking on heels, it means that Katniss won't need the sponsors.

The first rooftop scene... Well there's two more? I think? The first one is in a garden, however the garden is still on the rooftop so I'll count it. I think these scenes played a big role later. And I also think they are proof that Snow had bugged the rooftop, too. Lavinia was only acknowledged by Peeta in two moments. One, where he covered for Katniss and said that she was Delly Cartwright. That was for just a moment, and for all Snow knows, it wasn't even a lie. And when Katniss explained to him how she knew her. That Katniss didn't protect her. And I think Peeta seeing the girl Katniss couldn't protect being brutally killed, might have helped with the hijacking later on, because it would prove in his mind that Katniss just didn't care about any life, or even worse wanted to see suffering, and that she was heartless towards everyone, not just him. He'd think that anyways, but seeing Lavinia die in the hands of the Capitol just underlined this.

And of course, the elephant in the room... The "I don't want to be another piece in their Games" rooftop scene. Firstly, even though Katniss is the unreliable narrator that she is, we can clearly see Peeta's true character in that scene, if we are not too caught up in Katniss' thoughts and can consider the possibility that Peeta isn't lying. That he values self-awareness, agency and staying true to yourself. Personally, that made me love him even more, wanting to resist the corruption. And of course, that makes his character arc even more tragic. That he became exactly what he resented. A piece in their Games, a monster he's not. And that is another reason I think Snow was watching them the entire time. Snow could have known from the Games that Peeta was against violence. That he adored Katniss. That he'd do anything to save her. But he couldn't have known that Peeta's dying wish was to stay true to himself. Not to be changed by the horrors of the Capitol. He couldn't know that Peeta would absolutely resent himself once he was lucid enough to realise what was going on. And also, yeah I am going to add that this scene might be my favourite foreshadowing of all time. I don't know if Suzanne had planned it all along, she probably didbut I like to think that she didn't, and instead her decision to hijack Peeta went like this:

Suzanne, rereading her own book: I'm stuck. What could I possibly do that will move the plot forward? But doesn't seem cheap? No, I have to reuse an idea. It'd be out of place to just invent facts about Panem. Wait a minute. I could turn a fan favourite (and Katniss favourite) character into an insane 17 y/o so that Katniss will be desperate for revenge and the story has a bit more Angst. The readers will hate me and I don't give a shit

Or maybe

Editor: The love triangle isn't working.

Suzanne: I know. I have expressed my opinion towards the love triangle

Editor: Yes, but it sells more. And you cannot just abandon the idea.

Suzanne: Who says that Katniss can't choose her own boyfriend in the middle of the book and not the end

Editor: Listen... There's still a lot people who like Gale. You can have anyone win her. In fact, I would advise you to stick with Peeta. But the idea of a romance between Gale and Katniss has to have a satisfying ending. So no one can doubt Katniss' decision. But it also needs to feel like a hard choice. Or maybe make it impossible to choose between them anytime before the end.

Suzanne: What if I make Gale kill Prim?

Editor: Wha-

Suzanne: And make him unfathomably annoying the entire book and have him become a violent b*itch because of the war.

Editor: What's preventing Katniss to choose-

Suzanne: What if I make Peeta go insane?

Editor: What!?

Suzanne: What if I make him go insane? He's already in the Capitol, it wouldn't be a hard feat

Editor: But then Katniss couldn't choose either of them!

Suzanne: Not permanently, idiot! You know I have a weakness for Peeta.

[thefairmaidenoffandom]

yes peter parker would drink fanta out of a champagne glass. yes he would do it in a fancy restaurant

[charlietheepicwriter7]

thinking about a star wars au where, when luke skywalker asks if obi-wan knew his father, obi-wan responded that he didn't, but he did know luke's mother.

[sewermageboy]

Just saw an article about how ppl would want to see the Mass Effect trilogy as a Netflix show, and.

I think I would honestly rather set myself on fire.

Have people still not understood that the only way that could go would be major disappointment for everyone involved??

[falderaletcetera]

personally I recommend going full cringe with this. NONE of these words are in the eragon trilogy.

[corellianhounds]

Amidala the Resilient

Media: Revenge of the Sith

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,942

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, pregnancy, Force-choking, blood and injuries, traumatic labor and delivery, death in childbirth, no happy ending.

Art Credit: Iain McCaig, The Art of Star Wars, Episode III: Revenge of the Sith

Summary: In a universe where Anakin gradually descended into the Dark side of his own volition from the beginning— where his ambition and love were genuine and admirable, but the temptation of power too much— his turn is something much more destructive and purposeful. Amidala’s plan for retaliation is just as much so.

Padmé Amidala can feel tension twinging in her back and thighs. The pit in her stomach has coalesced into a tight knot as she steels herself for what she must do, bringing a mattock and salt to the ground where pruning shears should have been used long ago.

Anakin had been too far gone for a long time, and the fault lay in her and everyone in his life willingly turning a blind eye too often to his myriad of faults. In the past two hours she has seen actions the result of which came from an upbringing where his temper, jealousy, and ambition were allowed to slide because those who thought him destined for some great cosmic good were willing to overlook occasional— and often objectively justified— acts of wrath and ruthlessness. He had always been so good at justifying his reasons and putting his actions in a more favorable light, showing enough willingness for correction over the years people thought he was receptive to guidance and change.

What she’d come to realize with dawning horror was that the seeds of destruction had been sown long ago, and though the vines had borne occasional good fruit, they had always grown with selfish intent, inevitably choking out everything around them in an effort to keep his own desires hidden behind the barrier of thorns.

In the next hour, she will come face to face with the monster of a man he’s become.

The Jedi master doesn’t know. Kenobi knows she has some plan but wrongfully assumes it is to appeal to whatever mistaken shred of humanity might remain in Anakin. Obi-Wan— even now, even after what they saw— cares for him as a brother and would sooner cut off his own hand than see Anakin completely lost to the Dark. Padmé however has finally seen clarity of purpose.

For Anakin to be stopped, he must be killed.

The ship arrives on Mustafar. Padmé wrenches herself away from the viewport as Obi-Wan lands and she gingerly lowers herself to the cargo hold, donning a cloak. Obi-Wan hurriedly finishes the landing cycle, calling her name as she gathers her strength, but she’s hardly listening to him at this point and she knows she must conceal herself from him so he has no chance of stopping her.

A hand on her shoulder makes her flinch, and the Jedi lets go almost in surprise. “Padmé, you don’t have to do this. I will talk to him.”

“No,” she says, keeping her left hand secured across her waist beneath the voluminous sleeve as she cleared a path to the lowering gangway. “He’s made it very clear he’s past the point of reasoning with the Jedi. I will speak with him, and if I cannot convince him to come with us calmly, or I cannot ascertain his next move, I expect you to do what’s necessary to end this treason. That is an order.”

It was all false diplomacy, of course, for his sake. Padmé had no intention of believing Anakin was anywhere close to the realm of negotiation. They were far past that.

But she needed assurance that she could get close enough to Anakin to act decisively. She couldn’t have Kenobi interfering, not at this juncture.

Oppressive heat surrounded her as she swept down the ramp to the barren ground. Magma roiled and churned, flames flickering at the edge of the peninsula as Padmé approached the figure so cloaked in darkness an aura of blackened energy almost seemed to emanate from his form. The grip of the hidden dagger dug into her hand, grounding her as she approached.

Padmé’s eyes burned with a ferocity to match her husband’s. It was time for this to end.

When Obi-Wan had seen her determination in the hold of the ship he had never for a moment anticipated what it would lead to.

Padmé steadily approached Anakin, cloak and hood protecting her from the blaze. He could see her speaking forcefully with him, her face hidden from view but Anakin’s darkening by the moment in response. His right hand, devoid of glove, clenched the hilt of an already ignited saber, the bloodshine blade standing in stark contrast to his own cloak. Its presence alone was alarming, but Obi-Wan had been subject to so many tragedies that night already, he merely assumed Anakin had readied it in the expectation of facing himself.

What Obi-Wan hadn’t known was what Padmé concealed until she tried to close the distance between them, her own blade in hand. What followed happened in the span of a heartbeat.

Anakin’s saber blocked it on instinct, easily halting the approach of Padmé’s dagger, his eyes widening in surprise. In the following moment his left hand raised and with it, so did Padmé.

Obi-Wan’s astonishment lasted only a fraction of a second as he yelled “NO!” Padmé’s feet left the ground as an invisible force clutched her neck in a crushing, intangible grip, and in the breadth of time Padmé scrabbled at her throat, Obi-Wan acted.

Anakin stumbled back from the force of the bolt hitting his shoulder, releasing his hold on Padmé. Padmé crumpled to the ground in a heap, and Anakin’s sights zeroed in on Kenobi, standing at the mouth of the ship with both blaster and lightsaber in hand. Snarling, Anakin stalked towards his old master and brought his lightsaber down, red clashing against blue.

Padmé Amidala, heartbroken and dying, drags herself bleeding to the communication console.

Kenobi can hear her movement in the bay and yells her name, telling her not to move, that he’ll come to help her as soon as the ship breaches the atmosphere, and she stalwartly ignores him, cradling the underside of her belly with one hand and using the other to support herself on the railing around the sparse artillery deck. Her broken ankle protests at every movement, sending lightning arcing up the leg where she puts her unsteady weight. The cramps in her abdomen spread like bone-coral, sharp and hot and agonizing in her pelvis, sides, back— Every tendon and muscle in her body screams at its owner to relent, to succumb to the creeping darkness pressing around her vision, but she cannot allow herself peace until she finishes what she started.

Padmé staggers at the ship’s turbulent acceleration, her forearm slamming out against the bulkhead as the lights flicker, and she curses the unsteady pilot she thought was her friend. Perhaps if she’d been accompanied by someone more decisive, someone whose fatal flaw wasn’t a love too great for a brother that no longer existed, Anakin would have been dealt with and she’d have the wherewithal to fight against the added pain of a labor she was sure would tear her in two.

Sweat pours from her brow and forces her already shaking, slippery hands to scrabble for purchase on the blasted polished finery of a spoiled noble’s ship. Her muscles spasm and she gasps in abject terror as she feels something inside her snap; the membrane within her had ruptured.

Gravity pulls on her bones as her muscles betray her, and she collapses against the bench. Fingernails scrape vinyl and she chokes out a guttural, rending cry of pain in the effort it takes to haul herself upward into the seat.

Obi-Wan is yelling again. Traitorous coward.

Padmé punches in the covert frequency on the transmitter. Her other hand rests on her stomach, her infants moving restlessly under her touch. She forces the hot flashes of pain back, shoving down every instinctive response to curl in on herself.

“Sabé—,” she says into the comm, gritting her teeth and tasting blood once more; the contractions were stronger and with a strangled grunt she yanks the comm closer, ignoring the frantic waves of worry rolling off of the useless Jedi in the pilot’s seat.

“Sabé, if you find the man who was my husband,” she chokes, the creeping black at the edges of her vision beginning to overtake her.

“Kill him.”

Obi-Wan sat listlessly on a bench in the hold, what bloodied clothing he still wore sticking to him like a second skin. His hand rested on the makeshift bassinet, a gun locker repurposed into a cradle.

He could only imagine what directive she’d felt necessary enough to strain herself to get across the sublight waves; he could only imagine because the message was encrypted and the recipient unknown, and her mind had been shielded from his probing. He didn’t know whether to blame his failed use of the Force on the heartbroken, distracted nature of his psyche being pulled in a thousand directions as he’d manually flown from Mustafar’s orbital pull in order to make the jump to lightspeed, or to blame some unknown energy stalwartly blocking him from Padmé’s mind. Reaching out to her had felt like hitting a steel wall.

The tumult of their departure had preoccupied him until he was sure he’d escaped whatever enemy fighters Anakin’s new master had sent after them, the maneuvering less of a dogfight and more of a half-cocked evasive prayer for the hull to remain intact long enough for them to break atmo. Klaxons blared and the astronav’s interface barked orders, warning him of too many systems he already knew were damaged enough that if they took even one more hit to the hull they would be obliterated; shields were failing, exterior panelling being shorn off, the pursuing fighters gaining on them— Until by some stroke of luck he’d found a slip in space to pull through and immediately jump to lightspeed.

Lightspeed jumps themselves were already hazardous to expecting parents’ health. He was terrified of the condition she had been in when he’d finally gotten her onboard, and the fact he could sense her moving with purpose somewhere below decks while he tried to shake the fighters had sent his heart rate skyrocketing.

Piloting had never been his forte. As soon as they’d hit hyperspace he’d slammed a hand against the autopilot controls and bolted from the dash, scrambling down to the hold below.

He swore under his breath, calling her name and skidding to a halt beside her. Her face twisted in agony, her hands clutching the underside of her abdomen. Obi-Wan knelt beside her, hesitant to move her and instead ran a quick check over her vitals, astonished at what he found.

Broken bones in her leg, fractured ribs, internal bleeding, damaged trachea— how had she even moved?! By all rights she should be dead and yet something had propped her up long enough for her to drag herself to the terminal and send a message.

And now she was in labor.

“Kenobi—” she spat derisively, grabbing his tunic. “Get— up—”

“Padmé, hold still, let me—”

He was cut off as a violent shudder wracked her body, her limbs curling in on herself with a gurgling cry. Panicked desperation lanced through him as he reached out and grasped tendrils of the Force, gingerly cradling her neck and attempting to delicately, swiftly mend ligaments he couldn’t see. If he was even a millimeter incorrect, she would die.

A misaligned vertebrae shifted back into place, and Padmé screamed.

Obi-Wan bit back a sob, carefully tracing his fingers on either side of the back of her neck with as much force as he dared in an attempt to still her and provide what pain relief he could as his own energy was leached from him. Padmé gasped, her eyes flying open, her expression stricken as she looked up at the ceiling. Her iron grip loosened as the tension dissipated, if only in one area. She gulped air as if coming up from the bottom of a lake, and Obi-Wan settled as he felt his strength wane. A concrete task was better than guesswork at unknown variables.

The reprieve didn’t last long; Padmé grunted in pain, convulsing as a contraction rippled through her torso again. Further assessment revealed her leggings and the floor beneath her to be drenched, and Obi-Wan’s panic flared again.

“I have to get you up—”

“If you move me I will kill you,” she spat harshly. She trembled despite the ferocity of her glare, her hand still twisted in his robe. “There is no time— Here and now, Kenobi. Make do.”

“Padmé—”

“Look around you,” she seethed. “There’s no level surface in this blasted ship big enough to work. There are no other choices. There is no one else to help. Sleeves up. Now.”

Kenobi’s brow remained twisted as he stripped off his outer tunic, knowing it was laden with silicate and volcanic dust. Padmé propped herself up on her elbows as he raced to scour his hands and forearms, coming back to remove her boots so he could work her outer garments free. Whether the blood seeping between her teeth was due to the injuries she’d sustained or because she was gritting them hard enough one had cracked, he didn’t know.

Padmé gasped again as the fracture in her shin shifted— He wanted to settle her, to fix this, but the contractions were coming more quickly and closer together. They were running out of time.

He finally seated himself before her, kneeling and shaking in just his undershirt and trousers, feeling acutely unprepared for what was to come. Battlefield triage and casualty care were the extent of his healing knowledge, and though he was adept at relieving or numbing acute nociceptive responses, it was usually with soldiers whose minds were open for him to assess areas of injury. A commander with a blaster burn would be focused on the point where his plastoid hadn’t covered. A civilian’s attention after suffering a fall would be turned to the joints and bones that took the brunt of the effects of gravity.

Labor and delivery were far too different from his experience in the medical field.

And Padmé was still blocking him out.

Her knuckles gripped bone-white to a ridge of floor plating, one knee bent and her foot planted flat. The other lay weakly to the side, and Obi-Wan grit his teeth as he raised it up to rest over his thigh despite the lancing pain he felt radiating from her, tucking a blanket beneath her and readying his hands for whatever instruction he prayed she could give. With him gathering his wits and her gathering her strength, they set to work.

The whole ordeal couldn’t have lasted longer than ten minutes, and it was the longest and most arduous process of their lives. Between her strangled cries, his intuition, and the muscle spasms that told him everything about this was wrong, Kenobi’s concern grew with the pool of blood beneath her, and she forced him to focus on the children, refusing to allow him any modicum of time spent healing her injuries between her screams. Untended bone cracked further as she thrashed, her screams echoing back in the cargo hold.

By the time Kenobi had swaddled the two squalling— living!— infants in what sterile dressing he could find from the field kit, Padmé had gone a sickly pale. Her skin was waxy under the recessed halogen lighting, her hair sticking to her forehead. Dark circles rimmed her eyes and different muscle groups continued twitching of their own accord as if sparked by electricity. Obi-Wan was torn between ensuring the infants had been properly cared for, and wanting to drag Padmé to the captain’s berth to fully assess her wounds and heal her: Padmé kept stubbornly shoving him away, tears tracking unnoticed down her face as she continued to choke out instructions for the care and keeping of her children.

He’d finally been forced to stop when that iron grip returned in full force— Padmé grabbed his arm and yanked him down to where she had propped herself up against the wall. Kenobi lurched forward, her ashen face now level with his. She forced her voice to obey despite the strain in her throat, rasping the words she needed to say.

“Keep them away from him.” The venom in her tone was undeniable. “You keep them safe, Kenobi, get— get them as far away as you can—”

Kenobi grunted, refusing to let her continue her orders. He pressed a palm to her chest, willing those wisps of energy to sustain her just a few moments longer as he tried to haul her up into his lap, coax her arm around him so he could lift her— If he could just get her somewhere comfortable, somewhere clean, if he could focus—

Padmé shrieked in pain, clawing at his chest and arms, and the sum of their separate fights came crashing down on him as the Force dissipated from his mind’s grasp. His knees gave out, his strength sapped from the energy he had poured into her, and they lay heavily back against the terminal yet again. The children cried distantly behind them.

“Padmé, please…” Obi-Wan pleaded, tears streaking down his face, but she shook her head yet again.

“Keep them safe,” she coughed, begging for the first time. “Get them away f-from—”

“He’s gone, Padmé, Anakin is gone—”

She shook her head fiercely, squeezing her eyes shut. “No. He’s there. I can feel him.”

“Listen to me— Anakin is dead, I saw him—”

“You’re wrong,” Padmé said. Her breath rattled. Tears dripped from her chin. “If— If you won’t k-kill him then t-take care o-of them. Wh-Whatever it takes.”

Her chest hitched as she gasped around the liquid filling her lungs. Her bloody hand trembled against his neck. She hiccuped, her eyes went glassy, and her hand fell away.

And in the stillness of hyperspace, Padmé Amidala Naberrie passed from one life to the next.

It had been an hour since then. Only an hour since Obi-Wan had had to keep himself from buckling under the weight of his grief, an hour since he’d sobbed on the floor of a ship as one of his oldest and dearest friends died in his arms. The former queen of Naboo, dying in the bloody cargo hold of a stolen ship, her own life stolen from her by the one person the two of them had trusted beyond measure while her infant children cried out for comfort he felt wholly incapable of providing. Obi-Wan wept alongside them, digging his fingers into the cold, unfeeling floor, wanting to scream as the agony of heartbreak threatened to overwhelm him.

So many dead, or lost. There was no solace even in the Force.

But as Obi-Wan Kenobi found himself doing so often in his life, he shoved his feelings down into the furthest recesses of his broken heart, let go of another loved one returned to the Force, and turned himself back to the task at hand.

The infants were asleep now. He’d shakily scrubbed at his face and arms with cold water and spared only enough time under the sanisteam to ensure he was clean enough to handle them before finding a spare undershirt for himself. He fed them, cleaned them up, and held both of them together against his chest as they squirmed, dissatisfied at their situation before accepting their present accommodations and falling asleep. By the ship’s chrono he had roughly two standard hours before the ship was due to drop out of hyperspace.

He sat unseeing in the captain’s berth with the ad hoc bassinet nearby. Padmé was still in the hold; he couldn’t be two places at once, and he couldn’t stay down there with the children.

Something bothered him about the infants in his arms, though. Once the girl had passed from Padmé’s body, it almost seemed like the barrier keeping him from sensing Padmé’s thoughts had broken. He was too drained and scattered to dwell on it as his last moments with her had been focused on her well-being, but despite his utter exhaustion he had a suspicion that had already begun to crystallize under the sheer openness of the twins’ young presences within hyperspace.

It troubled him.

Whatever message she’d sent was evidently received by the people she’d needed it to. Bail Organa met him at the hastily assembled but covert rendezvous, his ensuing shock and horror upon entering the ship’s docking ramp turning to commanding resolve as he followed the trail of destruction to Kenobi’s station. Organa had to shake him from his stupor before Obi-Wan could tell him of Mustafar, of the newly appointed Sith and Padmé’s scheme, and of Padmé’s last words. The senator’s brow furrowed. He knelt next to the Jedi, looking over the sleeping children.

“What of Anakin?”

Obi-Wan shook his head tiredly. “I cannot sense him. I don’t believe Anakin is alive.”

“… Who else did she contact?” Bail asked.

Tears dripped onto Obi-Wan’s shirt. “I don’t know.”

Bail sighed, bringing one hand up to rest on his shoulder. “I am truly sorry, Obi-Wan. For everything.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t respond.

Bail’s team, handpicked and vetted by the senator himself, worked below decks as the men weighed their options. The aftermath of the despotic coup was rippling out and changing by the minute; the Jedi had been slaughtered and scattered, the clones had broken all communication, and the Senate had reached a fever pitch of chaos. Anything that needed to be done had to be done now.

The feeling of loss that bordered on consuming him was one he’d rarely felt in his lifetime as acutely as he did now. The comfort he found in the Force was absent. He’d felt like a ship unmoored when his master was killed. Now it was as though he’d been dropped into the middle of a hurricane.

Bail’s hands were clasped loosely together against his forehead, elbows resting on his knees as he bowed his head in thought. Kenobi could have been a corpse for how still and gaunt he was.

“Obi-Wan…” Bail began. “Are you certain Skywalker is dead?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “I cannot sense him at all.”

Bail was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. “… But you, of all people, couldn’t sense what must have been growing within him. Is it at all possible the body of Anakin remains, but the reason you cannot find him is because the man we knew is entirely lost to the Dark?”

A chilling fissure of clarity cut through Obi-Wan’s senses. His reaction told Bail everything he needed to know.

Even if it was only a suspicion, they could not afford to waste time figuring out the emperor’s next move. Anything that could be used to motivate Vader had to be hidden from public knowledge. They couldn’t leave a trace of his past behind.

Bail mulled over his thoughts, then stood, gesturing for Kenobi as his resolve hardened to steel. “Come. We have work to do. We will mourn when we are done.”

Sabé trembled with the effort it took to control her breathing. She stowed her bag behind the seat of the starship and brought the engine to life, moving with purpose as tears streamed unbidden down her face.

The ship rose, coordinates locked in place to meet the others of her gathering retinue. These weren’t the orders of former nobility, of a governing senator— This was the last request of a dying friend, someone whose very existence was woven into her bones. Padmé Amidala’s death would not be in vain.

Sabé looked out beyond the stars, her breathing finding stasis despite the ocean of grief beneath it.

“My hands are yours, Padmé,” she said to herself. “For as long duty compels them.”

She wasn’t going to kill Anakin. Not until he felt every bit of the pain and suffering he deserved.

Notes:

The line “clarity of purpose” comes from Saw Gerrera in the Andor TV show

I wrote Sabé’s line before seeing that one similar was used in one of the books. Good to know I was on the right track with a character I know very little about lol

[marmot-bee-person]

zuko and anakin would get along in a ‘you fucking get it’ type of way

you have to look at the tags and the comment i left I put so much work into them PLEASE LOOK

[triscribe]

Tri's first attempt at a personality quiz

So I made a Thing

Very much an on the fly sort of Thing, so we'll see if it turned out well or ends up going on the scrap pile for take two.

(Brief reminder that you can order an autographed copy of my book off Ko-fi, or read the first chapter for free on Patreon)

[triscribeaucollection]

Trials of Youth Ch 8

(A centaur, minotaur, and kitsune walk into an ambush... except it's the Goddess of Fate who wants a quick word. And to provide them with snacks)

(Aka I'm trying to trick my brain into working on the next chapter of my second book, and it is. Proving Uncooperative. So here, have some teenage shenanigans and tell me what y'all think)

---

“You can’t be serious.”

Lepl winced, and tried to give his best friend a discouraging poke in the ribs. But Mifu just batted his hand away, scowling at their third companion.

Sana, in return, folded her arms and glared back up at him. “I’m perfectly serious. As long as it’s here, why not use the road?”

“Because it’s an Arriv road! As in, Arriv use it! And if we try to do the same, we’ll almost certainly get caught!”

“Almost,” Sana pointed out, “Is not the same as absolute. Besides, I can smell any Arriv coming half a mile away! We’ll have plenty of time to vanish up into the long grass-”

Before he could second guess himself, Lepl coughed. “Uh, no. You can vanish into the grass, sure. Me and Mifu? Not so much.”

To her credit, the kitsune actually paused to consider his point. “...fine. Maybe we won’t use the road, then, but we can still travel alongside it. Or is that also too risky for your tastes?”

Mifu’s scowl deepened, his tail swishing with annoyance at Sana’s tone. But he didn’t protest further, and soon enough the three of them set off, winding through the low sloped hills that lined the stone causeway.

Lepl was used to temporary hoof-paths through grass, or the odd track worn down to bare dirt, and part of him felt sorely tempted to go take a look at how the road was crafted. But the rest of him knew good and well Mifu would pitch the all-mightiest of fits if he tried, so that was out. Instead, to keep himself occupied, the minotaur reached into one of the packs slung across Mifu’s lower back and dug around for his thread kit.

While the boys maintained a steady gait, Sana kept periodically darting up the hills around them, nose raised to the sky, ears twitching as she turned in place to scan their surroundings. It took a few back and forth passes for her to notice the frame in Lepl’s hands. “What are you doing?”

“Weaving,” he answered.

Face scrunching up, she drifted closer for a better look. “That little thing is a loom?”

“Sure is.” Lepl briefly paused running his needle through the vertical strands, and held it out for her to see. “My grandmother notched and put the bones together for the frame ages ago, when bad storms kept us inside the entire cold season and I was bored. My hands are bigger now, but I still like to use this one instead of something larger.”

“For what? You can’t possibly make any useful sized cloth on that.”

Mifu snorted. “He gives everything he makes to my father. Sew enough small squares together and they become a blanket just fine; an extra warm one, too, if you double layer it and stuff the inside with dry grass.”

Sana’s head stayed tipped to one side as she watched Lepl resume his work. “...I’ll take your word for it.”

But she didn’t go on ahead of them again. Instead, the kitsune stayed by Lepl’s side, paying attention to how he switched between dark and light shades of blue yarn, gradually adding more layers to his small bit of cloth. Apparently it proved so interesting for her that the woodsmoke ahead never registered.

The three of them came around the edge of a particularly wide hill, and walked right into a small campsite.

Lepl tripped and nearly fell flat on his face. Mifu froze with a front leg still raised off the ground. Sana’s hands leapt towards her weaponry. And the little old Arriv - drab green skin, with long hair wrapped up in a scarf, but did that mean a goblin or orc - just kept on turning the odd contraption set up over her fire. The scent of roasting sweet nuts filled the air.

“Don’t fret yourselves, now,” the Arriv called, without looking over her shoulder. “You don’t cause me any trouble, I won’t cause you any either.”

Sana promptly snarled, leaping to place herself in front of the boys, but didn’t draw either of her blades. “You’re trespassing, goblin.”

“Oh? This is the Borderlands territory, child. I believe that means you must be trespassing as well.”

Another snarl made Lepl slowly reach forward, and curl his hand around Sana’s shoulder. “No trouble intended, uh, ma’am. We’ll just go around, now.”

The goblin hummed. She picked up an empty cloth pouch, and used a thin metal rod and hook to tip over her spinning pot contraption, pouring roasted nuts into the bag. “You’ll hit the town of Plaimik in another day or so, if you keep following the road. They’re rather famous around these parts, if you didn’t know.”

Lepl exchanged a wary glance with Mifu, who asked, “Famous for, what, exactly?”

“Biggest gladiator arena of any slave town in the Borderlands. If you aren’t trying to go there, I’d suggest heading at least half a day north in order to go around.”

She’d been trembling faintly when Lepl first touched her, but at that, Sana went completely still beneath his hand. “...what’s it matter to you?”

“Oh, very much or very little, depending on your choices.” The goblin plucked a nut back out of the pouch, and popped it into her mouth.

“That is not an answer.”

“Would you prefer I stay silent and not say anything at all?” Chuckling lightly, the goblin pulled the pouch’s drawstring closed, and then- then tossed it to Mifu, who caught the thing with a startled yelp. “A parting gift, as thanks for not attacking my little old self. Go to Plaimik or sneak around, as you will, but I won’t let anyone claim Shan let them leave without some token or other.”

“Uhh... thank you?” Mifu poked the pouch cautiously. Lepl leaned a little closer and breathed deeply through his nose, mouth already watering. The goblin only chuckled again, turning back to her fire and picking up a larger sack to pour more nuts into the pot contraption. Lepl backed up first, pulling Sana along with Mifu right behind them, and they went around the hill to continue onward. “...are we going north?”

“Of course not,” Sana snapped, shoulders still clearly tense even after she shrugged off Lepl’s hand. “I can’t afford to lose that much time. And we are not eating those!”

“Why not?” Lepl asked. “They smell good. And she ate one, so they can’t be poisoned.”

“Like there aren’t herbs that don’t affect Arriv but will kill Amkyn!”

Mifu rolled his eyes and let Lepl snag the still-warm pouch from his hands. “I think you’ve got that backwards. There’s only a few things bad for Amkyn across the board, but plenty of stuff that won’t bother our stomachs while doing awful things to Arriv who try to eat them.”

Sana muttered something rude, but at least didn’t try to stop Lepl from tossing a couple of nuts in his mouth and crunching down. “Ooh - these are tasty! Mifu, try some!”

The two of them managed to work through most of the pouch by the time Sana relented, and stole the remaining nuts for herself.

[super-antelope]

After finishing Disco Elysium a couple of months ago, I’ve been feeling that no game will ever be this good again and excite me and make me that emotional. And now I’m almost done playing the first Ace Attorney trilogy and I’ve realised that there are probably MANY games that I haven’t played yet that are THAT good. And that was a very pleasant thing

[autizta]

I am playing Spyro: Ripto's Rage for the first time and I'm not the biggest fan of the story

I don't know, it feels weak and rushed which works with the simpler objectives and lore given to us in the game before it, but not with this one, it's got such a big world with so much going on but the plot does not keep up with what it wants to be

I totally understand why this happened and it is a shame, but I think it can be easily fixed by fleshing out the characters around him and introducing a clearer objective for Spyro, that makes sense for his character and is also more fleshed out. Such as oh I don't know, proving himself and riling up people against an empire.

I wrote a conceptual introduction for this plot in Read More, enjoy

It's a normal day in the Dragonlands, where Spyro is organizing a pile of gems

Cameras: So, Spyro, you are very well off after your last adventure, what are you gonna do with all those gems?

Spyro: Isn't it obvious? I'm spending it on my vacation to Avalar

Cameras: Isn't that outside the Dragonlands?

Spyro: Yeah but it's full of awesome different creatures, including my two radical friends who invited me there, Hunter the Cheetah and Elora the Faun

Camera: Then... that means you'll be the first dragon to tour Avalar?

Spyro: Yeah I'm sure the locals will be crazy about me, it's gonna be epic

Meanwhile, on Ripto's castle in Avalar...Ripto is throwing a tantrum while watching the TV

He is paranoid and angry, first Spyro, then what's next? His grand, beautiful and orderly kingdom ruled by the beastly, ugly and unruly dragons? Spyro represented everything he hated, and every second of peace he took from him Ripto swore to take it from Spyro as well

Ripto: PROFESSOR!!!!!!!

The small creature skittered as fast as he could to his ruler, nervous and clumsy

Professor: Y-yes my lord?

Ripto: LOOK! *he points at the TV* there's a DRAGON coming to my kingdom!! How long until he gets here????

The professor takes out a notepad and writes some things down, while Ripto watches him intently

Professor: about...15 minutes I'd say?

Ripto: NO! I must hurry while there's still time!

He pushes the scientist to the side and rushes to open the door, where his minions pretend to not have been listening in this whole time

Ripto: ALL GUARDS ON ALERT, A THREAT IS COMING AND WE HAVE WORK TO DO!

Meanwhile, Spyro is on his flight to Avalar, it seems he is arriving, but not too long after he lands he is surrounded, he fights with all his might until the locals seem to start trapping him, when things seem too tough he is finally saved by his friends!

Hunter is quick while Elora is strong, they're quite the duo together and take out the enemies successfully, Spyro is still confused though.

Spyro: Well THAT just happened

Elora: I'm so sorry Spyro, I know that wasn't the reception you expected, it wasn't what I expected either

Hunter: We should have though, this is all my fault, I knew we should have just gone to the Dragonlands, I was gonna suggest it but-

Elora: Hunter, stop searching for ways to blame yourself okay? The only one to blame here is Ripto

Spyro: Hold on you two I'm completely lost, what's going on here, who's Ripto, what's he got to do with all this and where is he so I can flame him on his face?

Elora: I'll explain, Ripto is the jackass currently in charge of the Avalar kingdoms

Hunter: GASP Elora!!!

Elora: What??? It's true okay! I don't care if a Dragon ate his grandma or anything, not a single other faun is as much of an annoying dick about it as he is. He's seen you on TV Spyro, and he hates you

Hunter: So now out of nowhere he enforced a bunch of security measures in all of the Summer Forests, and put a bounty on your head *he shows Spyro a badly drawn sign that reads "DRAGON: Dead or Alive 10000 gems"*

Spyro: That looks nothing like me! Oh when I see that Ripto guy he's TOAST

Elora: Now hold on Spyro you are NOT facing Ripto alone

Hunter: Yeah, I will

Elora: NO ONE will face Ripto alone

They both seem slightly annoyed at Elora

Elora: Look, we are not the only ones dissatisfied, I for one can tell the other faun don't like these brutish guards ordering us around, despite being afraid of dragons because of Ripto they are much, much more afraid of Ripto himself. If we can show to them you are on our side we can start a revolution!

Hunter: WHAT?

Elora: I'm serious!!

Hunter and Elora start to argue, Spyro tries to get their attention to no avail, suddenly a burning ship flies above their heads and they finally look to the dragon

Spyro: So, I came here to chill and find out fame has its consequences, there is a bounty on my head, it's a lot to take in at once

Hunter: Sorry, Spyro

Elora: You're right, Spyro

Spyro: Which is why Elora is right, this revolution is going to be FIRE! LET'S GOOO WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR COME ON!!!

And he rushes ahead of them giving them 0 time to think or say anything, and they both rush after him.

[twinkpoll]

No Timothee Chalamet but what do you say about every character played by him ? Expect a lot of submissions when I have some free time, dear mod :)

We've already gotten three noms for Paul Atreides. But only three.

I feel like he's an honorary Victor-type twink. He's running around a worm-infested desert about to keel over. Truly the selective god-breeding didn't work.