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laniemae · 7 months

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Why I believe John/Orekoto was lying about his motive in Neoplasm

Ok so double just came out and I have a lot of thoughts. When a new MV comes out I usually wait a while until I can make a proper analysis but this one is mostly going to focus on neoplasm. And in particular one thing me and my friend found particularly suspicious about John’s (Orekoto’s) testimony when it comes to the murder(s).

When Es questioned John about their murder, he responded very clearly with “Yeah it was me, I killed them off”. And after that Es questioned why he did it, only to say that he did it only because they were annoying him and it was whoever was walking by. Es goes quiet at this which might imply to me some sort of suspicion on his testimony. John goes on to say that he can’t remember how many he killed because he was just born back then and his memory is kinda fuzzy.

Instantly this set off a ton of red flags for me, it just doesn’t make any sense when you think about it. Earlier on when John fronted he started acting all violent and threatened to beat up Es, who just calmly laughed it off. Es seemed to be quickly notice something was off, as their calm demeanour enacted an also suspiciously calm demeanour from John. Es then said it was strange because they assumed him to be a monster. After hearing that John instantly went back into that violent persona that they were showing as soon as they fronted.

This scene is very telling to me. John is not violent, or evil, heartless or anything like that. He’s only acting that way to potentially come out less. And be even straight up says “if I had stayed a monster… maybe that would’ve been better.” Then instantly takes back what he said by just going “…what?”

From this it’s very clear, like I said, that John isn’t evil. But then that takes what he said about his murders into question. That he only did it because he just got annoyed and killed random passers. This clearly isn’t true when you take into account the whole interaction with Es, because otherwise he would’ve attempted to kill Es the whole time and not go docile when they weren’t acting scared.

I believe that John is trying to dip back into his monster persona he made for himself here. He probably figured out that acting evil all the time wouldn’t work, and when questioned on such a sensitive topic such as the murder he just went with the option that made him the least sympathetic, and Mikoto more sympathetic in order to lower his stress levels by not telling the full truth.

As for who committed the murder/s, I’m still pretty unsure. In double it looks like both sides are perpetrators. But this also takes into account, what about those scenes of John killing the mannequins? It seems like it matches up enough to what he said in the voice drama but I don’t think that’s the smiling gun.

Milgram is an extremely complex series, and in no way should the easiest option be assumed as the right one. Unreliable narrators are a big thing in the series, and we should look at a character’s MV with how they view themselves in mind. For example, Kazui thinks himself as a monster and this is especially prevalent in Cat, where if you’d take it at first glance you might assume that he’s evil or whatever, just as he views himself.

The same should apply to John as well. He wants to believe he’s a monster in order to protect Mikoto from more mental stress about his murder, and might end up with him fronting less. This likely subconsciously played itself into double and even MeMe, where John portrays himself as evil as that’s what he wants people to view him as.

I feel like when discussing who’s the murder and if John is evil, we should definitely take this into account otherwise our future opinions will be biased.

Ok so someone just mentioned the fact that he had a baseball bat in the first place means it was likely a premeditated murder. So him killing people just because they annoyed him would be a really weird thing to say because that would’ve been an impulsive murder, and he had a weapon at the time.

#milgram #mikoto kayano #Milgram theory #yes I am calling him john I think it’s hilarious and fitting for a little goober #This was basically a theory me and my friend came up with when we were watching neoplasm together #I could’ve gone into more depth with this but I feel like this summarises what I want to say good enough #From the start I felt like it was very clear he was lying about killing those people because they annoyed him #Im surprised so many people took that at face value #Remember prisoners can lie in their voice dramas and their view of themselves can affect the mvs #People should really take this into account otherwise it’d probably prompt even more “john/orekoto is evil” bs again #And I don’t know how to fit this in but I’m still thinking alot how #In the first trial voice trailer mikoto says “my (boku) life it wasn’t supposed to be this way…”#In the glitched out segment which is heavily implied to be when/around the prisoners committed their murders #LanieMae’s theories

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wantbytaemin · 2 months

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happy bday to my number one guy, king of my heart and the true big boss, M @linoguy 💖🤎

#uhm. little cough to clear throat hope ur ready for the elaboration.#us at planet idiot is kinda funny and kinda apt i think. wasn’t going specifically for them two but it comes naturally i think #wanted a parallel of me being a wildcat on your shoulder who hisses at everyone but likes u <3 #car pic obviously me bringing you bday flowers. too many to fit in the backseat. also i choose red roses bc ❤️#one bebito one leather lino and two of your ladies! good ratio in my head #<- btw he’s certified bebito! M approved (don’t ask if i went through your engine blog to Make Sure)#ENTIRE* not engine #and middle pic is you <3 #i hope you like it if you knew how nervewrackinv this was for me for SOME reason. ANYWAY thank you so much for being my friend i really #really really appreciate you a lot and though I’m not like skilled at editing or a content creator or whatever else i wanted to give you #Something at least even if it’s small & silly 🫶🏻

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autistic-katara · 2 months

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there r fics that make u insane (so amazingly good it’s removed ur sanity) and then there’s fics that make u insane (you need to fistfight the author for how they did a specific thing that caused u to rant for hours)

#i know i just posted that other thing but ffs that is NOT how u handle someone in that situation everyone involved made everything 10x worse #yet it’s being treated like the right thing to do (which again ofc they’re cops they don’t understand harm reduction but still) like #seriously everything’s so forceful like u seriously think forcing ur friend to talk to u or forcing a patient to talk to a therapist under #the threat of being admitted to a psychiatric hospital is gonna make her feel comfortable talking to u? or anyone? she’s just gonna trust u #less and get better at hiding it and speaking of which the taking away all sharp objects thing makes sense in theory but like think abt it #for a minute she confirmed she isn’t suicidal and this is her only way of coping so do not just forcibly take away all her coping mechanism #like yes she is hurting herself but it’s a COPING MECHANISM. she’s coping with something. help her with that don’t just take away her penci #sharpers or whatever (which btw since she’s an adult she could easily buy more stuff and yk learn to hide it better) which again has to be #voluntary it isn’t gonna work if u force someone to do smthn they don’t want to like as ur friend u could’ve made it clear u care abt her #and wouldn’t judge her for anything and r here if she wants to talk don’t just say “you have to talk to me” and casually threaten #hospitalisation when she isn’t ready in the moment like seriously if this wasn’t a badly written fanfic she would completely stop trusting #bcz given that this wasn’t even done out of panic i would like ffs u are NOT doing any of this right #oops sorry ranted abt the bad fic in my tags-#it’s not where the author’ll see it and know it’s about them i don’t feel bad abt it #this was my first time even looking at stuff for this fandom so #cw self harm in tags #idk if i need to tag anything else for that 😭#fanfic #ao3 #ryan shut the fuck up

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 5 months

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so howd you like it what are your thoughts

Anon, I hope you don't mind it but I'm going to use this ask as an excuse to do my Full On Rambling post about my honest thoughts. I'll try to keep is as coherent as possible, but I can't actually guarantee it :')

Also putting it under a cut because some of it is going to sound negative (as I said, I want to exorcise any critiques I have so I can go back to Vibing asap) and I know many people (undestandibly!!) won't want to read that, and I don't want to burst anyone's happy bubble :) . And also because of s3 spoilers. Bear in mind that it's not a rant post, I still had tons of fun with the season. But since I'm going to be talking about the things I enjoyed forevermore and gonna try to keep all my 'didn't really like this :/'s contained in this post, it may come out sounding like I enjoyed it less than I truly did. Here we go, get ready for some Thoughts

-> Content

Okay, listen. This season was fun. I had a nice time watching the newest shenanigans. New characters (with one notable exception) were a joy to watch (yes, even the thing. We're in a toxic situationship) and I was greatly amused by their adventures; most of them kept me on the edge of my seat.

(ok, here's where the negativity begins. Please don't take me for someone who wanted everything to be done for Their Specific Standards or who thinks they know more than the professional and extremely skilled team that was behind the series. I'm just throwing around thoughts about how I feel, but in the end, the only thing that matters is that Luke Pearson and the team got to tell the story they wanted to. If that was achieved, I'm happy regardless)

However, I couldn't help but think that some of it felt... like it was "thrown" at us, in a way? To be fair, I think most of the negative points I'll discuss in this post are a consequence of this season being 6 epsidoes short of what the writers originally planned because, as I've mentioned before, I do think the show's writing is great and that the team puts their heart and soul into making this the best cartoon possible. Anyway, what I mean is that at times I thought the episodes seemed so worried with delivering all the information they could that a lot was left behind and some stuff didn't really tie together with the rest.

For example; I still cannot understand why aunt Astrid and Anders had to be these big surprises that had never been mentioned before if Hilda, the character who we see this world through, already knew about them? Don't misunderstand me, I am well aware that these nitpicks of mine are subjective and only my personal opinions that may very well simply be a consequence of not understanding what the writers were trying to achieve. I just feel like Johanna's family and Hilda's father are topics that have been discussed so at lenght in the fandom, precisely because they'd been so carefully skirted around in the previous seasons, that the reveal that nothing really dramatic had happened (between Johanna/Astrid and Johanna/Anders, at least) feels anticlimatic to me. It just feels (again, to me, personal opinion) that if this was going to be the case all along they could have mentioned these characters before, and it would have made the narrative make a little more sense.

(This is especially true to me in Anders' case. Bc it felt to me like they had been trying to highlight how irrelevant Hilda's dad was to the story in the first seasons by not bringing him up at all, by not even pointing out his abscence. But I can't really see the point in that if you're gonna bring out the man either way)

Ironically, at the same time I felt like some of the arcs were a tad overachieving, especially the Johanna's parents one. I just felt like it was Too Much Too Quickly, which once again is likely because of the season having been shortened. I feel like if they really wanted to do that arc, and that way, it would have been helpful to cut some other storylines so they could begin fleshing out this one earlier. They way it was done I just personally (can you tell I'm terrified of being taken as a hater?) felt like there was no time at all to get either used to the idea of Johanna being half faerie nor to get attatched to her parents. Like. I know the episode was the season's emotional peak, but it just didn't hit me the way I know it should.

Not sure if this was a me problem, but I felt like the audience wasn't given enough time to process what had even happened when they got stuck in the fairie island, nor to even consider that they'd truly be stuck there forever, much less to fully process the sacrifice Johanna was making when she left it with Hilda. I didn't get to get attached to Johanna's parents or to the dynamic they have with their daughter. I didn't suffer the way I wanted to when I saw them having to part ways, because I couldn't become invested in their bond when I was still trying to wrap my head around what their backstory even was and pay attention to the action heavy scenes that were to come.

What I'm gonna say here is way meaner than the people behind the show's writing deserve and I know, I can absolutely tell it isn't the case because you can see some of the foreshadowing once you have the benefit of hindsight, but it felt to me like some of Johanna's backstory was written for shock value alone. Which, considering the previous components of the season that I have already mentioned felt underwhelming, was even more jarring.

Another thing is that I feel like a lot was sacrificed in order to do these overachieving arcs. This maaay just be the side character lover and change hater in me, but I do feel like in order to present to us all these new concepts that would be necessary for the backstory to make sense, we were deprived of some elements in Hilda The Series that are arguably what the show does best. It felt like they all but scratched all of their previous stories, characters and components to switch them up for new ones. Pikablob has said it better than me, tbh.

However. I do feel like saying that none of the fears I had for the season came true. No character feels ooc, no one was left with an incomplete arc, and though I can't see how Anders contributes to the story, if he had to be there I feel like the way that was it done was the right one.

-> Pacing

Frenetic. Run for the hills kind of thing sometimes. Which, once again, I can't bring myself to believe was the writers' fault, not when they had other 6 episodes planned that they didn't get to do. I absolutely understand that they had to condense everything they wanted to show us into half the runtime. But it did become an issue (to me) when instead of the trademark Hilda Idyllic Tranquility I usually feel while watching (even plot and action heavy content like TMK), I felt like I was watching a completely different cartoon. Carmen Sandiego, or something like that (please note that I do also love Carmen Sandiego). Many times it just felt like there was no breathing space, which isn't necessarily bad when done well, but I hadn't gone into the season prepared for that.

It wasn't a problem that was all around present, though. I do want to point out that imo "The Giant Slayer", "The Laughing Merman", "Strange Frequencies" and even "The Forgotten Lake" still felt like Hilda to me. Which is where I realize what the main issue I had with the season was. That a lot of it just felt like a different show.

-> ~ vibes ~

I am bringing back the disclaimer that if the team told the story they wanted to, then good for them, I'm pleased as can be. I do enjoy that the series played with some different concepts. The musicality and colours in The Laughing Merman, for example, were absolutely delightful to me. Seriously, I want an entire Hilda musical now.

But some things I just couldn't help but feel were so disconnected from the previous feel of the show that it felt to me like they didn't belong. You can sum the rest of this post up by saying that season 3 would have been one of my favourite ever cartoons if it had been its own thing. But it's not, so I can't help but compare it and try to understand how all of the installments work when together.

The faeries, for example. I was so excited when I saw the trailer and knew it was going to be one of the plots, because I thought it was going to be another adventure of the day type of thing that would span over three episodes max. And listen, I've talked about how much I love Celtic folklore, and maybe this is just my consistency loving brain being annoying, but it felt a bit... clashing? that this season was based on tales and creatures and treaditions that weren't the scandinavian ones that inspired the rest of the series. It just felt like a major shift in tone that I don't really understand (once again, me problem, may very well be a skill issue on my part & I'm not saying they shouldn't have ventured so far just bc I didn't quite vibe with it). It just feels a bit off to me, knowing that Johanna's backstory was likely planned from the start, that there wasn't any celtic lore at all in previous seasons to make this sudden detachment from nordic folklore feel less out of the blue.

You know that joke that Disney movies like Aladdin and Raya take concepts from different cultures and smash them together like they're not completely different? I felt to some extent (bc OF COURSE Hilda is much better researched and has a lot better quality than that /gen) like they did that this season. But with white people. Which, fair, I can appreciate the irony.

Back to the topic of bold storylines, I understand what the Hilda team did with all the Johanna backstory. I understand that it's something that everyone wanted to see soo bad and they wanted it to be great (and it was). The thing I got stuck on is just that it ended up changing the vibe of the show to me. Whereas previous seasons feel like "slice of life in a magical place", I felt like this time I was watching a magic centered fantasy. Especially when they got into trying to explain the origin of magic and everything. Which is ironic, because I enjoyed the concept a lot and will explore it in the future, but it still felt like something that I wouldn't have expected Hilda the Series to tackle. Like there was a giant shift from folkloric to fantastic that isn't bad, but it is different and I hadn't been prepared for that lol.

God, I feel like I just wrote all of that and just to be A Bitch. I just wanted to get these thoughts out but I don't expect you guys to agree or anything. I genuinely liked watching this season, and I will continue to reiterate this in the future. And even if it doesn't beat s1 or s2 in my heart, I'm still grateful we got a final season at all, and everyone who was involved in it deserves all the praise <3

#me while writing this: dont say retcon dont say retcon #retcon is the word toxic 'fans' use when something doesnt go exactly the way they want and they can't interpret media DONT SAY RETCON #(<- friend just brought to my attention that I wasn’t clear on this - I don’t mean to say that retcons don’t exist #or that bad writing isn’t a problem!! I just mean I’ve seen so many discussions where the word was used badly #that now I can’t take it seriously nor use it anymore #)#I don't mean to say no one can critique the writing or that it's wrong to not enjoy what was done #I just don't trust myself to do it right KJSHDFKJHDS #& I don't want to soundl like a whiny and entitled jerk :(#kinda traumatized about it after that One ao3 commenter #hilda spoilers #hilda s3 spoilers #hilda critical #I cannot BELIEVE I just used that tag #should I tag for negativity?? I will just to be safe #negativity #hilda netflix #hilda season 3

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palfriendpatine66 · 11 months

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Favorite obikin smutty fan fic tropes ask

(Long winded ask. Bear with me) SO. A million bajillion years back I had the idea for a creative writing obikin modern au in which Anakin is a little shit college student who writes increasingly erotic self insert fictions staring Jedi Adrian Starkiller and his illicit romance with his mentor, a thinly veiled stand in for Professor Kenobi that is fooling absolutely nobody.

Here’s where the ask comes in: I would LOVE for Anakin’s stories (which we will read/experience mostly through Prof. Kenobi’s reactions to reading) to be an amalgamation of all kinds of super common fanfic tropes. He’s going to start off a little less obvious and end up writing over the top, gratuitous smut in an attempt to seduce/get a reaction from Professor Kenobi.

Have a favorite way one of them is described during sex? Super common thing that comes up every time that wouldn’t feel right without it? Ridiculous thing that they *must* say? I would LOVE to hear, and will have So Much Fun trying to include your faves in some kind of ridiculous Anakin Skywalker original.

Comment, ask anon, message, whateves floats your boat!! I’ll be collecting these ongoing for a while! Send them along anytime!

I foresee me doing this for fun when I need a break from some of my more angstier ideas in the works 😉 thanks in advance 💕

#sort of an ask game #collecting your ideas to be included in a fic #this is going to be crack if that wasn’t clear #help me obikin friends of tumblr you're my only hope #obikin #creative writing au

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cancerian-woman · 2 months

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I just finished my rewrite of one the ending scenes of TVD. I feel like a boss ass bitch.

#just so we clear I AM that bitch.#that scene wasn’t friend-ship ish enough for me #I’m so proud of myself lol.

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priestfrommidnightmass · 27 days

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DON’T READ IF YOU’RE NOT DOWN WITH MORALLY GRAY DIRTBAGGISH DILEMMAS IN REAL LIFE! but okay. so his girlfriend leaves for the summer for like three months in aboutttt 2-3 weeks? and i graduate soon so i’m kind of debating partnering with one of my friends to throw another party so i can get him wasted again and see how he acts when he’s drunk around me and she’s not around. because if that’s how he was acting with her standing Right beside us i can’t imagine otherwise….

#i’m so SCARED FOR THIS SUMMER!!!#because he was playing hardcore Last summer when she wasn’t around #and now we’re like. significantly closer. and going to be together every second of every day #i mean we’re working significantly closer than before Plus our stuff outside of work #but anyway.#i’m not sure if i’ll act on this desire the next time i see my friends i’ll bring it up #honestly at the rate we’re going this probably doesn’t even need to happen. but boy do i want it to #I’M NOT TRYING TO GET HIM TO CHEAT. LET ME MAKE THAT CLEAR #i have the self control to where. if something ever happens i’ll stop it. i’m more just gathering evidence #doing my research considering my options. i’m not a total scumfuck but i dabble

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goldensunset · 4 months

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i cannot stand those quirky overly-friendly-to-the-point-of-crossing-boundaries teachers and professors who make you do icebreakers or fun facts about yourself at the beginning of the semester bc their questions are always the exact sort of stuff that you never wanna answer. but they just keep asking bc they think you’re just being shy and cute. ‘what are your hobbies? what kind of music do you like? what’s a topic very personal and important to you?’ MAN i am not subjecting myself to public humiliation like that for being very far removed from the norm nor am i opening up about my deep-seated personal problems. i don’t know you i don’t respect you you are not entitled to anything outside of my graded work. i’m just trying to prevent everybody in the room including you and i from becoming incredibly uncomfortable. just take the hint when i deflect your questions and pretend to be boring

#my sociology professor was asking us all for our current favorite song to add to the class playlist that he plays a bit from every morning #even if i had a single favorite song i wouldn’t tell him #even if he wasn’t gonna play it in front of others i wouldn’t tell him #he was like ‘ahhh what a diverse and fascinating sample of different genres we’ve collected here from your responses!’#three taylor swift songs. some respectable rock and rap stuff. basically it #i am not about to submit my japanese robots singing about the most unhinged and frightening topics known to man #some of us actually got bullied as children and learned to never be honest ever again especially not when we don’t have friends with us #i could explain to him why i like the things i like #but i’m not about to be that vulnerable?? hello???? i already know he wouldn’t understand or care even if he didn’t say anything mean #ok hot take but i actually kinda don’t like the discourse surrounding infodumping #like ‘it’s ok to just talk at me about the things you like! :)’ ok but if i don’t have clear confirmation that you like it too #then it feels like you’re just listening to me out of pity #you could be as nice as possible but if you don’t ask followup questions or express any sort of favorite part or interesting detail #i will feel awful and be like ok never doing that again #maybe that’s just my personal flavor of mental illness #i never got like. told to shut up or anything when talking #but i did get the awkward silence or ‘light-hearted’ mockery #so i figured shutting myself up was for the best #peach rambles

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no1ryomafan · 5 months

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The struggle of talking about your favorite fictional characters depth because no one in the tiny ass fandom that exists gives him the proper analysis he deserves and you rotated him enough in your head that you have detailed opinions about his character arc but making essays are REALLY fucking hard so the only thing you can shove to peoples faces is random incoherent rambles about one very specific scene or just pointing to your ao3 where you’ve written in depth character fics about him but aren’t canon complaint whatsoever since it’s “what if he actually addressed his trauma, got help and it lead to a happier ending for him than canon?” which feels like it contradicts aspect of why him getting doomed by the narrative is so appealing to begin with but you cry like a bitch remembering what happens to him that you need to cope like every other fandom.

…My conclusion is I fucking hate Ryoma Nagare for ruining my life. /s

#meg text #getter robo #ryoma nagare #me and my friends are likely gonna finish new tomorrow and mentally I’m preparing to weep #nobody but me is gonna be emotional about the ending bc it’s not that sad but GRAAAH #I’m not fucking normal about this idiot #I want to go into the void and recuse him myself then BEAT HIM UP for making me feel this way #<I already brought him back in fic but shhhh that’s sadly not canon #I really wanna write essays about him though I just can’t WORD #I struggle to write fucking fics but something where I have to be clear to argue a subject??? Guess I’ll die #somebody come down from the heavens and make getter essays that wasn’t that one retrospective PLEASE #NEW NEEDS TO BE TALKED ABOUT MORE FFS

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saturnsuv · 1 year

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“cuffing your jeans is bisexual” “all bisexuals have clear phone cases” “this is the bisexual hairstyle” i am going to kill you with hammers. violently

#my friend was just telling me about how when she was at the lake with some friends + her friends friends this one girl handed her her phone #when she dropped it then suddenly asked if she was bisexual to which my friend awkwardly said yes and the girl was like clear phone cases #are a good sign of that #i laughed it off when my friend told me but i genuinely think we as a society have become too comfortable just asking people we do not know #for personal details like that as if we’re entitled to know #also like. what if my friend wasn’t out or had been with her family who she isn’t out to #maybe im just on my soap box again or whatever i just dont think it should be considered okay to ask random people that #sam speaks

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corellianhounds · 4 days

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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; she’s 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 treasonous rebellion. 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 his master.

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 their 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 thirty 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 decided needed 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

#Revenge of the Sith #Star Wars fanfiction #Padme Amidala #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Bail Organa #Sabé #Heed the tags #prequel trilogy #The Force works in mysterious ways #my writing #If you’re aiming to write a tragedy. make it tragic ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#I think Amidala and Kenobi should have known there was no reasoning with Anakin given everything they find out prior to Mustafar #I think Kenobi’s lack of action at seeing his best friend strangle his pregnant wife is utterly baffling #Like that should have been the point Obi-Wan realized ‘‘OH’’ and pulled a glock on him #I also think it’s dumb to reduce Padme’s death down to just a broken heart because Anakin DID strangle her #(In case it isn’t clear here. Padme tried to stand and fight Anakin again after Kenobi started fighting too.)#I was nooooooot going to write out the literal longest swordfight in cinema history. It simply wasn’t going to happen 😆#The prequels needed more of a sense of urgency at every turn. Just from like a storytelling standpoint there were—#— way too many calm conversations being had about events or topics that needed to be paired with active choices and danger/deadlines #ANYWAY my point is #I only wanted to write this epilogue to revised prequel trilogy #not the whole thing #I’m already revising other stuff. Prequels would be too much work #TLDR: Anakin would have been better served as a character if he were the one driving the action instead of the story happening to him #He needed to be more impressive. more powerful. more loved by a multitude of characters.#More dangerous. and actively seeking out the power himself. He is otherwise uncompelling to me.#If he were written more like Boromir these movies would have been more of a tragedy #AO3 link in reblog

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