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shygiverqueen · 7 months

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First Note: At the start of a prologue; this scene took place in a Star wars Obsession comic issue #5.

-----Prologue------

"Finish her."

The command was spoken with cold authority, and the Magna droid wasted no time in obeying. A blaster shot rang out through the air, finding its mark in Ventress's chest. As she fell to the ground, her ocean eyes fixated towards the sky, resentment coursing through her veins. She was betrayed by her Master, Count Dooku, left to die in the hands of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Asajj lay motionless on the grass, her body growing weaker by the second. Despite her countless attempts to exact vengeance upon the Stewjon Jedi, a familiar face shielded her view of the departing shuttle. Obi-Wan's compassion and leniency disgusted her, yet there was a flicker of hope in her heart as he cradled her head.

Obi-Wan kneeled beside her, offering false reassurances of impending medics, but they both knew it was too late. Blood stained her lips as she coughed weakly, wiping it away with a smirk. She saw his pity fade, replaced by sorrow, as he held her hand. A rarity in the galaxy, she thought, to find kindness in the most unexpected places.

With blurred vision, Asajj mustered the strength to speak. "The pity is gone from your eyes," she muttered, acknowledging the sadness reflected in his apprentice's gaze as well. Obi-Wan wiped away her tears, and she allowed it, knowing her time was running out.

"Yes...I know you'll be one with the Force soon, finally at peace," he replied, his voice heavy with sorrow.

Asajj tightened her grip on him, a moment of vulnerability showing through her hardened exterior. "Watch the center of the galaxy. It is the key to victory... Defend Coruscant from Dooku," she whispered. Obi-Wan nodded, understanding the weight of her final words.

"And here I thought you'd use your last breath to curse us," he snarked gently, trying to ease the heaviness of the moment.

Asajj frowned, her grip weakening within his hand. "Perhaps I have... Perhaps I just...hate Dooku more than I hate you... Or maybe..." Her voice trailed off, the light fading in her pale eyes.

"You were right about me all along," she managed to say, tears streaming down her cheeks. Obi-Wan watched with sadness as she drifted into unconsciousness.

"May the Force be with you, Asajj Ventress," he murmured softly, an acknowledgment of the battles she had fought and the pain she had endured. Anakin placed a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, offering silent support.

As the medical frigate finally arrived, it was clear that Asajj Ventress...

Was finally at peace.

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As she found herself drifting in and out of consciousness. Time seemed to lose its grip on her as she floated in a realm between dreams and reality. She could vaguely hear voices discussing her fate, debating whether she should even be alive.

"The orders are clear, take her out," a voice said, its tone filled with cold determination. It was a chilling reminder that her life was in the hands of others, and they held the power to snuff it out without a second thought.

She felt a jolt soon after, as if her body was being moved. The sensation was hazy and distant, like the flicker of a dying candle. The two shadowy figures she had seen earlier watched her passively, their purpose still unknown to her. As the ship she was on moved farther into space, it became nothing but a speck in her line of sight.

—--

As her eyelids fell, her breathing remained steady, a rhythmic lullaby in the quiet of her mind. She drifted further into a serene slumber, her senses attuned to the gentle whispers of the cosmos. Amidst the darkness, she found solace, as if floating weightlessly among the stars.

Unbeknownst to her, the ship carrying her continued its journey towards an unknown destination. Her body remained in a state of peaceful repose, unaffected by the turbulence of the outside world. The voyage held a mysterious purpose, one that only time would reveal.

—--

Moments later, her dreams were interrupted by a sudden jolt, snapping her momentarily out of her blissful haze. The gentle rocking motion and the low hum of the ship indicated a landing was imminent. Yet, she remained in a state of suspended animation, her consciousness lingering between realms.

A warning blared through the ship's speakers, its message muffled and distant.

[ Warning….Landing….is...Eminent.]

She heard the collision, the impact vibrating through her slumbering form. Despite the chaos around her, she found comfort in the realm of dreams, her breathing the only constant in her tranquil universe.

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Confusion etched itself across her face as her eyes fluttered open. The unfamiliar surroundings and mysterious circumstances stirred her from her deep slumber. She tried to gather her thoughts, her mind groggy and her senses dulled.

"What's… going on?" she muttered, her voice raspy and weak.

With a surge of remaining strength, she pushed through the haze and forced her eyes to focus. The sight before her was disorienting. She found herself in a small, enclosed space with a single round window. Panic infected her as she noticed something skittering outside, casting shadows on the glass. Fear and curiosity intertwined, fueled by her confusion.

"Where am I?" she questioned aloud, her voice trembling.

Memories from before her slumber began to resurface, fragmented and hazy. She vaguely recalled walking the streets of New York City, but the details were blurred, the moments blacked out.

Her gaze fell to her attire. What she wore was completely unfamiliar to her. Tight-fitted leather clothes and breeches clung to her figure, accentuating her body in a way that felt both foreign and uncomfortable.

"What the hell am I wearing?" she whispered, the harsh raspy tone of her voice betraying her exhaustion.

A sense of urgency overtook her, and she quickly unstrapped herself from the safety harness, rising to her feet. However, the increasing migraines pulsating through her head threatened to overwhelm her, causing her to stumble. Instinctively, she reached a hand to her now clean-shaven head, a realization striking her with disbelief.

"Mirror. I need a mirror," she muttered, searching desperately for a glimpse of her reflection.

There was nothing in the confined space except for a single round window at the front, drawing her attention. Intrigued and hopeful, she eagerly approached it, hoping it would solve the mystery of her current condition.

As she caught sight of her reflection in the window, her hand flew to cover her mouth in shock. The face staring back at her was not her own. Distinctive ocean-colored eyes met her gaze, framed by pale, chalky skin. Six lavender tattoos adorned her face, their knife-like shapes a stark contrast to her plump lips. Confusion and recognition battled within her, a faint whisper from the depths of her being hinting at a familiar connection to this woman she saw before her.

"Who the hell are you?"

Before she could process the strange reflection any further, a sudden crash against the window shattered the fragile silence. With a shriek of horror, Asajj stumbled back, landing hard on her backside. A grotesque creature with menacing mandibles desperately tried to break through the glass, its intentions clear.

Her screams pierced the air as the monstrous creature pressed against the glass, its mandibles clawing and scraping, desperate to break through. Her eyes widened in terror as she watched it scan her compartment from the outside, its bulbous form twisted and grotesque. The sight of such an enormous spider-like creature filled her with dread and disbelief. This was far from normal.

Frozen in fear, she could only watch as the creature sprayed a corrosive substance onto the alloy, its intention to breach her fragile sanctuary. A chill ran down her spine as the acid melted through the metal, creating a hole for the arachnid to enter. Panic overcame her as she stumbled backward, her heart racing in her chest.

"Use the Force," a voice echoed in the depths of her mind, surprising her and momentarily distracting her from the impending danger.

The creature's jaws tore through the walls on either side, its aggression evident as it pinned her with its beady eyes. It hisses loudly, ready to devour her as its prey.

Summoning her courage, she heeded the voice's advice. With an intense focus, she pushed against the creature, using the Force to repel it. In a flash, she expelled her energy, propelling the spider-like beast out of the compartment. She gasped in disbelief, staring at her trembling hands, unable to comprehend her newfound ability.

Her heart still pounding, she quickly scrambled out of the ruptured entrance, reveling in the sensation of fresh air filling her lungs. As she took in her surroundings, she realized she was far from home. "Where am I?"

A swirling red mist enveloped the area, distorting her vision. Crooked trees stood like sentinels, and the starless sky sent shivers down her spine.

Questions swirled in her mind, but one prevailed:

---I did that?!

She watched with a mix of satisfaction and unease as the giant arachnid writhed in agony, entangled in the spindly branches of the crooked trees. Blood, tainted with venom, oozed from its wounds, staining the surrounding foliage. The creature's clawed hand flailed in desperation, a testament to its pain.

Suddenly, a loud creak resonated through the air. Her eyes widened as she realized the pod of her ship was slowly sinking. Without a moment's hesitation, she leaped from the vessel and into the murky water, creating a loud splash.

She resurfaced, gasping for air and struggling to stay afloat. Her arms flailed and her lungs burned as she fought her way to the surface, finally sputtering onto the nearest supporting log. She clung to it, allowing her breathing to steady as she surveyed her surroundings.

The pod sank deeper into the swirling abyss below, bubbles rising to mark its descent. Asajj knew she had to find a way out of this perilous situation. With no clear path in sight and a dangerous swamp lying before her, she felt a surge of frustration.

Silently groaning, she hatched a plan. Carefully, she submerged herself once again, moving stealthily through the water, and slipped into the lush foliage, hiding herself from any potential threats lurking in the distance.

"Great, just great," she muttered to herself, her annoyance seeping into her voice.

///

Cold and weary, Asajj emerged from the surface of the water, dragging herself onto solid ground. Exhausted, she flopped down on the field, rolled over, and took a moment to catch her breath. Looking up at the sky, void of any stars, she couldn't help but feel a sense of displacement.

Her gaze was drawn to a colossal planet reclining amidst the crimson atmosphere. The sight alone was enough to astonish her, and she buried her head in the damp ground, her leathered clothing sticking to her skin uncomfortably. The earthy scent filled her nostrils as she let out a faint sigh.

However, the nagging thought of her presence in this unfamiliar world persisted, plaguing her mind.

---How did I get here?

Confusion gnawed at her, but she resolved not to dwell on the unknown.

Instead, completely unaware of her surroundings, her eyes widening in panic as a spear was pointed directly at her. Her gaze met the piercing stare of a man with honey-yellow skin adorned in intricate black tattoos. The spear trembled dangerously in his hands, its tip aimed at her.

"Wait! Wait! D-don't kill me, please," She pleaded, her voice trembling. She never imagined that she would encounter the natives of this unknown planet. But what caught her attention most was the man's crown of horns, adding an air of mystique to his appearance. She stumbled back until her back pressed against a nearby crooked tree.

Her heart raced as the man glared at her, his brow furrowing in concentration. He continued to point the spear menacingly until, suddenly, recognition dawned upon him, and he lowered himself onto one knee, bowing in submission.

"Night Sister," he said, his voice filled with panic.

Asajj's jaw hung open in bewilderment, struggling to process the man's words. Night Sisters? What on earth was he talking about?

"Night sisters?" she muttered incredulously, barely registering her own words. "What in the nine hells is a Night sister?"

Briefly pausing, she blinked dumbfoundedly, her mind racing with confusion.

"Wait. Night sisters?" she exclaimed, her voice rising in disbelief.

Her outburst elicited a startled gasp, which she quickly stifled with her palm.

—Hell, no.

"I'm a…Night sister?"

The man looked up at her, fear glimmering in his molasses eyes.

He confirmed her suspicions with a hesitant nod.

"Uhm..." Asajj nervously scanned her surroundings, then returned her gaze to the man. "Where am I exactly?"

"You're on the far side of the Goldolan region," he replied.

She shook her head, her confusion deepening. "No, no, no. What I mean is, what planet did I come from?"

His tattooed brows furrowed in puzzlement. "Pardon?"

Rubbing the back of her neck, she took a deep breath, attempting to compose herself. "I'm sorry, I'm not really from around here. What's your name?"

He inhaled sharply, his eyes avoiding direct contact. "Goran."

"Goran," she repeated, letting the name roll off her tongue. "Hey, uhm, Goran? Do you know what the name of this planet is? The thing is..." Asajj clenched her fists to calm her mounting anxiety. "My pod ship crash-landed in this... swamp. I don't know where exactly I'm supposed to go. Can you help me?"

Goran nodded sheepishly, rising to his feet. "You're on Dathomir."

Asajj's eyes widened in disbelief.

—Holy cow! I'm really inside the fictional universe!

She let out a squeak of disbelief upon hearing the name of the planet, Dathomir. Goran looked at her with a raised eyebrow, clearly perplexed by her reaction. She quickly cleared her throat, trying to compose herself.

"Dathomir. That's... woah," she muttered, her eyes searching vacantly.

Goran tilted his head skeptically. "Woah?"

Realizing her slip-up, she quickly shook her head. "Nothing, just nothing." She wrapped her arms around her chest, feeling a sudden wave of confusion and uncertainty.

"Are you alright, sister?" Goran asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Don't call me that," She scowled, noting how Goran flinched at her sharp tone. Her shoulders sagging in realization. "I'm sorry. I'm just... confused. And lost."

Goran frowned, contemplating the situation as he grabbed his spear. "Do you want me to escort you to the Night Sisters' clan? There's a village up ahead. The road may be treacherous, but if you take the cave, it's an easier route. They may be able to help you with your troubles."

"No!" Her voice startled Goran again. "I-I can't go there. Can I go with you instead?" She locked her eyes onto the Dathomirian man, desperate for an alternative.

Goran seemed taken aback by the request, searching for a solution to help her. "I... but sister-"

She interrupted him, grabbing his hand. " Please . I just need somewhere else, and you're the only person I could... you know, trust?"

Concern etched onto Goran's tattooed features as he looked away, deep in thought. He adjusted the collar of his outer tunic, straightening his shoulders before finally giving his response.

"Come with me." He extended his hand towards her. "But first, may I know the woman I'm speaking to?"

She swallowed nervously and shrugged her arms. "Julia."

"No. Your real name," Goran insisted firmly.

She furrowed her brows, confused by his request. "That's my real name."

His lips pressed into a tight line, but the determination in his eyes softened. Slowly, Julia gently touched his hand.

"I will take you to my village, on the far side. My brothers may expect visitors from a Night sister, but if you're looking for sanctuary, they are willing to accommodate you, and the trials they are willing to commit to whoever mate you choose." Goran said pensively.

Julia's reaction halted abruptly. "Tri-trials? No!" Goran gave her a bewildered glare in response.

Her voice held a hint of panic. "I'm not looking for a mate, just... no trials, please. Like I said, I need somewhere else."

Goran breathed out a sigh of relief, choosing not to pursue the matter. "Alright. Follow me." And so, Julia began to follow the broad man through the forest, the thick layer of fog adding an eerie atmosphere. She clung to his hand for a sense of safety.

"Quickly, the creatures of the forest are active, so be aware of your surroundings," Goran warned in a low tone.

Julia nodded ambivalently, realizing that he seemed to know his way around this eerie place. She trusted him and ventured onward, following the winding road.

"It's strange that you don't even remember the birthplace of your people," Goran remarked in a low voice.

Before Julia could respond, Goran's attention abruptly perked up. Both of them found themselves enveloped in a haze that obscured their vision, preventing them from seeing anything ahead.

End note: If ya'll interested for more copy this link below to my A03:

#modern girl in star wars #star wars legends #ao3 fanfic #reincarnation #self insert #commander wolffe #asajj ventress #star wars clone troopers #star wars clone wars

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starbeltconstellation · 8 months

Text

Rewrite the Stars

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Modern Girl! OC

Prologue

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You cannot swim for new horizons until you have courage to lose sight of the shore.

—William Faulkner

˚・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.｡˚

"Isn't it sad how his life will turn out?" Linda Bains sighs, bottom lip pulling out in a pout as she leans back into the white pillow of the hospital bed.

The portable dvd screen on Linda Bain's lap flashes by with Anakin Skywalker's face on it, taking in his baffled and serious face as he mutters an, "We lost something", before flashing on to Obi-Wan Kenobi's sarcastic response.

"Mom, he is literally space Hitler." Melanie Bains mumbles into her mother's shoulder, body tucked into her side as she lays with her on the hospital bed. Her words have no heat to them though. She just sounds simply amused.

"Oooh, but that hair though." Her mother says, fanning herself. "You know, if I were healthy and twenty years younger—"

"Mom!" Melanie cuts in with a squeal of embarrassment, and Ms. Bains simply laughs.

"Gosh, you're so serious, honey," Ms. Bains chuckles. "You gotta lighten up a li—"

Her mother suddenly chokes off into a series of hacking coughs, and Melanie scrambles from the bed to get a glass of water.

Ms. Bains tries to wave her away, but Melanie will have none of it, wrapping her mother's fingers around the cool glass and lifting it to her lips.

"Drink slow." Melanie warns.

Ms. Bains gives her daughter a roll of her eyes, but says nothing as she takes a slow gulp of the water. She hands it back over to her daughter and Melanie sits it off to the side table before she perches carefully on the bed again.

"Better?" Melanie asks, eyeing her mother carefully.

"Yes, honey." Her mother stresses, looking a little miffed. "Gosh, it was just a little cough. There was no need for you to get up from the bed." Her mother suddenly sighs, looking morose. "I didn't mean to ruin our Star Wars marathon."

"Mom, you didn't ruin anything." Melanie reassures. "You can't help being sick."

"I could help with being in this dang bed or not." Ms. Bains mutters under her breath, crossing her arms and gazing to one side, looking petulant.

"Mom..." Melanie warns, voice tinging with something like pain. "You promised."

The bright hospital room has a moment full of stubborn silence.

Then Ms. Bains sighs, head hanging in resignation.

"I did." Ms. Bains acknowledges, gazing back over at her daughter. "One chemo treatment. But that's all," she stresses, face serious.

Melanie frowns. "But—"

"No buts."

"Mom, this is ridiculous! Why can't you just try—" she starts again, frustration bubbling through.

"I said no, Melanie!" Ms. Bains snaps. "And that's final. I am not going to kid myself with thinking that I'm going to get some miracle cure by doing this when I already have stage four lu—"

Ms. Bains freezes, cutting herself off just short of saying the full dreaded sentence; the one that had been like the dull ringing of an alarm bell in Melanie's ears since she had first heard it from her mother's doctor so long ago now.

Melanie's breath hitches at the reminder. At the clock that seemed to be counting down over her mother's head whenever she looked at her.

Her knees buckle, and she just barely manages to collapse into the chair at her mother's bedside, before she leans over, palms pressing against the growing tears burning behind her eyes.

Silence eats up the room again. And it's stifling, the way the chasm seems to split between the two of them in this moment.

Finally, her mother finds the courage to break it.

"Mel, honey..." Ms. Bains's voice trembles with emotion, clearly affected by her daughter's pain, "I'm not going to get any better. You know that."

Melanie sniffles, lifting her head to gaze up at her mother's eyes.

"Y-You don't kn-know that." she says, bottom lip wobbling at she holds in her tears.

Her mom's hand reaches out and clutches Melanie's shaking shoulder, thumb rubbing up and down soothingly.

"The doctors already told us about the life expectancy rate," Ms. Bains reminds her gently, watching as Melanie's eyes squeeze shut in an effort to block the words out. "It... it just doesn't look good for be, baby." she says, a sad chuckle spilling out from her lips as her face twists into a pained grimace.

"Bu-But... the chemo treatments could—"

"I am not about to leave my daughter with an insane amount of medical bills, just because I couldn't accept what was right in front of me." Ms. Bains interrupts sternly.

Melanie frowns, hand reaching up to clutch at her mothers own that had been rubbing at her shoulder soothingly. "But I don't mind helping you! I could take more rock climbing guide shifts and—"

"—I know you don't mind helping me, Mel." Her mother interrupts. "The point is that I do mind. I mind a lot, actually." she smiles, expression proud. "I'm not going to let you waste your money on me, because you are going to need that money to help build your business—"

"—Mom." Melanie's voice has grown to carry an exasperated edge to it. "Please, be serious—"

"—Oh, but I am being serious." Ms. Bains has a genuine twinkle in her eyes now. "I expect you to finish that poetry manuscript before I'm dead, you know—"

"Mom!" Melanie snaps, expression pained. "Please, can we just... look, maybe you're right, but can we just please not talk about that right now?"

That thing, as in her mother's death.

Her mother's hand comes up to wipe the tear tracks that rolled down Melanie's cheeks without her knowledge.

Melanie's eyes squeeze shut in pain at the next words that are spoken.

"We'll have to talk about it eventually, baby." Ms. Bains says, as gently as she can with Melanie's fragile mental state.

Silence. Then—

"I know." Melanie murmurs, voice cracking.

Melanie sniffles again, and Ms. Bains's face seems to break open.

Ms. Bains opens her arms wide. "Hey, come here."

Melanie crawls again into her mother's hospital bed, clutching to her tightly.

She doesn't know why, in this moment, it finally occurs to her that she only has a limited amount of time left each day to hug her mom.

A dark, haunting fear seems to slide over her, swallowing her up.

How is she supposed to live without her?

A wounded sound escapes her, and then she starts to sob like a child, face burrowing into her mom's shoulder like she could bury herself there.

She feels as fingers curl through her hair, stroking the back of her head in a calming gesture.

"Mel."

Nothing. She is inconsolable.

"Mel, honey, look at me."

Melanie continues to sob, squeezing her mom tightly to her.

Finally, the body she has been leaning against starts to sit up, and Melanie is forced to move along with it as her mother pushes both herself and her daughter up.

"Melanie." Ms. Bains's voice echoes around the room firmly, commanding attention now.

"W-What?" she hiccups, voice full of tears as she raises her head up.

She watches as her mom reaches forward to wrap her fingers around the golden heart locket that lays against the column of Melanie's pale throat.

"Do you remember when I gave this to you?" Ms. Bains asks quietly.

Melanie's brows furrow in confusion as she raises a hand to scrub at the tears clouding her vision. Her chest still rises and falls erratically as she tries to get her breathing back under control.

"It... it was for my birthday," she says, reaching up as she fiddles with the chain of the necklace.

"Do you remember why I gave it to you?" Her mother asks again, expression serious.

A beat.

She swallows, lip wobbling as she tells her in a quiet voice, "Y-You gave it to me a few weeks after... after we learned about—"

The cancer.

She can't make herself say the words yet, because it feels like admitting something, like giving into something inevitable if she does. As if she is giving into a doomed fate she cannot escape.

But she does remember what her mother is talking about. A few weeks after learning the devastating truth of her mom's condition, Melanie's birthday had been just around the corner, and embarrassingly enough, she hadn't even remembered until her mom had informed her of it, asking where she wanted to go.

Melanie had already been paranoid about her mom's condition, insisting that it would be perfectly fine to just stay at home for her birthday; maybe get a cake or something later.

And so, that's what they did.

Melanie, in a show of complete ineptitude, had actually assumed that her mom would drop the subject after that.

It wasn't until Melanie had came home, nearly dead on her feet as a tour guide for another rock climbing expedition, that she had been surprised to near tears to see how her house had been transformed into basically a one woman surprise party by her mother, balloons and streamers everywhere.

After a good hug and cry, her mother had sat her down to give her a present.

And, inside a black velvet box, had been the gold heart locket that laid around her neck now.

Melanie's mother fiddles more with the necklace now as they both sit sprawled out on the hospital bed.

"I told you that the locket had an inscription in it." Ms. Bains murmurs, still staring down at it, her eyes somewhere far away.

Melanie swallows again, a lump building in her throat at the reminder.

"I told you..." Her mother says, "...that the inscription would be something to keep with you. Something to remind you of me, even after..."

Even after I'm gone.

Her mom pauses, looking down, before she purses her lips in determination, lifting her face back to look at Melanie's. "You asked me what good it would do to have an inscription in it that you wouldn't even be able to see after you had put in a picture, and I told you that the inscription wasn't meant to be seen all the time."

She feels the clink of metal as her mom lets go and the necklace falls firmly back into place over the top of her collarbone.

She feels it again as her mom taps the locket with her finger in emphasis of her next words.

"The inscription; the words, are meant to be felt. Because even if you can't see them, you still know they're there with you."

Melanie stares, eyes burning with tears again, as her mom's lips twist into a sad smile.

"Just a little bit away." Ms. Bains finishes, voice shaking with emotion.

Slowly, the wide, gaping chasm of dark fear that had been swallowing Melanie started to pull back. She gazed at her mom, green eyes slowly unclouding, the dull ache in her chest easing with every moment.

Melanie's fingers slid down the chain, down to the locket that lays around her neck, fingers sliding over the cool metal gently.

The locket; the inscription inside it, was her anchor keeping her to the shore.

Melanie realizes, slowly, in this moment, that she has to let her mom go.

She could beg and plead for her mom to continue with the chemotherapy, and maybe, if she cried hard enough, her mom would give in.

But it wouldn't be right.

Her mom wouldn't be happy. She already wasn't happy, hooked up to as many machines as she was now, when all she wanted to do was be at home and live what was left of the rest of her life.

She finds herself finally acknowledging something that she had refused to consider before.

This; all of this�� the months Melanie had spent working overtime to raise enough money to convince her mother to get a round of chemotherapy, had been about her.

She hadn't wanted to let go. And, even though she knew her mom hadn't wanted to, she had convinced her to come anyways.

This, it wouldn't cure her.

It was just delaying the inevitable.

Melanie lets out a breath, finally accepting it.

"You'll always be here." she says quietly, voice weak as her fingers slowly wrap around her mom's pale hand.

Ms. Bains lips twitch into a sad smile, murmuring:

"Just a little bit away."

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Melanie's hand slams against the jagged edge of rock that sticks out from around the mountain she is strapped to with her rock climbing gear, blonde strands of hair sticking to her neck as sweat seeps down her face.

She hisses, almost yanking her hand back at the sharp sensation that hits the top part of her palm.

Shit.

She cut herself.

She had been careless, her mind elsewhere as she worries, even now, over her mom's condition.

She curses outwardly, gritting her teeth, upper muscles straining as she struggles to pull herself the last bit of climbing rope and to the top of the mountain.

She growls lowly in frustration as her muscles start to shake. She knows this is dangerous. She should stop and take a break. But there was some stubborn part of her that refused to give into that temptation at the moment. It was almost as if she was trying to prove something to herself in this moment, now that she had finally decided to let her mom go, when the time came.

It was almost as if, if she made it up this mountain, she could make it through anything, even with her mother one day no longer by her side.

"Fuck, come on," she groans, shoes digging into the flattest edges of the mountain as she struggles to lift the rest of her body up.

Finally, her head just barely managed to peek over the top part of the mountain. She blinked, green eyes squinting against the bright light that suddenly burned over the top of the mountain.

While still holding onto the climbing rope, her other hand, which had still been digging into the rock wall under her head, blindly reached up to push against the flat surface of ground now near her.

Her upper body screamed in protest, but Melanie would not quit, face all but flattened into the dirt of the ground as she heaved her body over the last bit of rock wall.

"Fuck. Fuuuuck." she says, chest heaving as she lays there for a moment, face still smushed into the ground.

She groans slowly rolling over onto her back, peering up at the blue sky that is filled with swirling clouds.

A sound bubbles from out of her chest; a burst of breathless giggles.

"I did it." she whispers to herself.

A few minutes pass like that, with Melanie just lying there on the top of the mountain, her feet still dangling off the edge, when she finally starts to pull herself to her feet.

She scoots backwards, ignoring the dirt all over her black tank top and cargo pants, as she unhooks her harness from the climbing rope. Then, she slowly pulls herself to her feet, wobbling for a moment before regaining her balance.

The view is stunning.

No matter how many times she rock climbs, she can never grow tired of this. Of the view. The pure serenity and beauty of nature.

It reminds her of a piece of poetry she had read a while ago, by—what was his name?—oh, yes, E.F. Hayward—while waiting in the hospital waiting rooms for her mother to come back from one of her many checkups.

I love to dwell in forest wild, Where giant pine trees pierce the sky; A beauty spot where Nature smiled—

"A fitting place to live and die," she murmurs, reverently as she gazes out over the horizon as the sun washes over everything down below.

Melanie's hand lifts to shade her face from the blinding sunlight that gleams out over the horizon, just barely peeking out from behind the clouds. Her green eyes gaze with wonder over the wide expanse of greenery and the blue sky that meets it down the middle. And, there, in the background, she can just barely make out the expanse of shining metal towers and buildings, which would lead her back to civilization; to California, when she was finally done with this expedition for the day.

She hadn't been planning to come out here today. She had no rock climbing tours planned today, but her mom's parting words from yesterday must have gotten stuck in her head somehow, without Melanie even realizing it.

Before she left the hospital room last night, she had fussed over her mom a little bit more, almost as if she were a mother hen herself.

"Okay, so you have your blankets—"

"Yes." Her mom had sounded exasperatingly amused.

"The TV is on, your clothes are in the closet whenever you'll need them—"

"Mel—"

"Oh! A drink! Do you need a drink? I'll get you a drink."

"Melanie—" Her mom had just been plain exasperated by that point.

"And don't forget to tell them that you need to take your blood pressure medicine twice a day!"

"Melanie!"

She still remembers how her mouth had snapped shut at that point, in pure shock at her mom's sharp voice ringing throughout the room.

But she had had no reason to be worried. Her mom had only done it to gain her attention.

When Melanie's gaze had finally locked with her mom's, her mother's lips had started to twitch upward into a fond smile.

"Melanie," Ms. Bains had began, speaking slowly and clearly as if to emphasize her point. "I. Will. Be. Fine." She shook her head then, still fondly exasperated. "You worry too much, honey. Live a little!" She grinned, splaying her arms out. "Go on an adventure! But stop sitting here worrying about someone who will be right here when you get back."

Melanie's lips quirk up into a smile, still thinking about those words, even now.

Her mom had always been a free spirit.

She had been an artist to the end, painting to her heart's content, even though the art had never really made her much money.

Melanie wonders sometimes if that's why her mom is so focused on Melanie's own poetry succeeding, where her mom's art had 'failed' at making a living.

It was a nice thought.

But naive, as far as Melanie was concerned.

Melanie had tried, at one point. Had been planning on going to college, getting an art degree. But it just hadn't been in the cards. College was too expensive, and the arts, no matter what kind they were, paintings or poetry or otherwise, just didn't make enough for it to be worth it.

She still wrote her own poetry in her spare time, but it was—was—

A hobby.

Nothing more.

Melanie had worked as a secretary, originally, before all of this. It had paid alright, but after learning of her mother's condition, she had scrambled to get some type of job that would pay even the slightest bit more.

Rock climbing had been a surprise.

If you had told her, two years ago, that she would be climbing even ten feet off the ground, she would have laughed in your face.

But she had done it. Had taken the job, from an old high school friend that had suggested it to her, and while it would never be what her true happiness was—

She... enjoyed it. To an extent.

She liked the thrill of the climb; of the ache in her muscles.

But, most of all, she loved the view she had once she made her way to the top.

It was her artist eye, as her mother called it.

Whatever it was, she was glad she decided to come up here today, before visiting her mother in the hospital; was glad that she had taken this little adventure.

Her mom had never gotten to have that.

It was at that moment, that Melanie had the strangest thought.

Why not bring some of the adventure to her?

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

She had passed by this shop before, one too many times, as she had walked around the hospital building to get back to her car that would be parked down the road.

She remembers the first time ever laying eyes on it.

She had been in a rush to park her car and race down to the hospital after dropping her mom off at the front door.

The bright lights surrounding the small display window drew her eye, and her gaze had flickered over quickly to read the sign that had been perched precariously in the window.

Come inside and go on an adventure!

And then she had been off again, the words and the shop sent to the back of her mind.

Until now.

Melanie takes in the swirling carving designs that have been engraved into the wood of the entrance door of the shop.

It was—what would her mom have called it?

Vintage. That was a good word.

The antique shop was small, the building almost seeming to have been squeezed between the hulking masses of the two fancier stores next to it; almost as if it had been placed there as an afterthought, and not something that had been there beforehand.

Melanie sighs, turning her mind back to the task at hand.

While most people would be more than happy with a stuffed animal or flowers for a get well present, Melanie knows her mother is different.

Her mother had always much preferred things that were old and had seen the passage of time go by.

Hopefully I'll be able to find something in here that she likes. Melanie thinks, pushing open the swirl engraved wooden door and stepping into the antique shop.

The ding of the bell above the door registers dimly in her ears as she looks around the small store.

It was actually a little bigger than she was anticipating.

The ceiling was fairly high up, with rows of strange, sparkling crystals hanging from thick wire attached to the roof.

The shop was spread out; most of the rows of nicknacks and old-timey relics moved to the side walls.

Not a speck of hardwood floor could be seen. The floor of the shop was filled with dozens of carpets and rugs strewn about the building.

The middle area of the building was empty, left clear for customers to roam about and to go up to the front desk ahead to check out items or to ask questions.

Speaking of—where was the person at the front desk?

She frowns, growing confused.

The sign did say open until 7:00pm, right? She thinks to herself, growing worried. It would be disappointing to have to leave. She knows her mom would love this place.

Melanie clears her throat, before awkwardly saying, rather loudly, "Hello?"

She stops. Waits. But there is nothing. All that can be heard in the eerie silence of the shop is the slow tick, tick of a pendulum clock that hangs near the right wall behind the front desk.

She thinks, in this moment, about leaving and maybe coming back tomorrow.

And yet, for some inexplicable reason she cannot name, Melanie decides to stay.

She walks forward, taking in the rows of shelves near the left wall. Two are filled to the brim with leather books that look to be falling apart at the edges.

She lifts a hand and takes one off the shelf, coughing and waving her hand in disgust at the cloud of dust that flies off the shelf at that moment.

"Doesn't anyone clean in here?" Melanie says out loud, quite aware she is speaking to no one.

She opens the book to check what the story is about, what with the cover having been worn off ages ago with overuse.

Alice in Wonderland, the front page shows, and Melanie sighs in disappointment.

"Ah, Mom already has this one." she mutters, putting the old book back on the shelf.

She walks around to look at the other two shelves behind the books, briefly glancing over at old-timey looking figurines and jewelry, but nothing seems to catch her eye to something her mom might be interested in.

Minutes fly by like this, with Melanie wandering around the shop and glancing from shelf to shelf, but nothing seems to be the perfect thing she is hoping to find.

What is she even searching for?

She supposes that she doesn't really know.

Something that says, I love you. That I care. That I pay attention to the things you enjoy.

Something that feels like a piece of an unknown story has been brought before her, awaiting to be revealed.

Well, she supposes that is a bit of a tall order.

Still, there has to be something— she continues to think, green eyes furrowing in frustration as she glances around, before suddenly freezing as something that glints in the sunlight that pierces through the curtains of the display window catches her eye.

It's a beautifully designed and painted music box. It sits perched inside the display of a large curio cabinet that stands near the corner of the shop, right by the front desk.

But, what's so astounding is that it isn't just any type of music box.

No. It can't be...

But it is.

The Music box that lays trapped inside the glass is a stunningly detailed Star Wars themed music box.

But it was more than just a box. It was a replica. A beautiful handcrafted replica of the characters Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker, both of their blue lightsabers crossed in the throes of battle.

Both of the figures stood above the flattened red of the bottom of the music box, which was painted with red and carved into simmering waves of lava that raged around them; a clear reference to the battle between the two men at Mustafar.

But, see, that—that isn't what's so strange.

What's strange is how—how ancient it looks.

It doesn't look like something that had been made with the material from the modern era. It looks as if it was something that was made centuries ago. It was in wonderful condition, but it still had a type of antique look to it that could not be hidden.

And it was so—

So detailed! Melanie thinks, her eyes widening in pure amazement as she leans forward to look at the music box, squinting to get a better look past the glass that continues to gleam from the sun pouring in from the main window.

She huffs in frustration at the stupid light, looking around again for a moment, and, when she still sees no one, carefully opens the curio cabinet's glass door to get a better look.

Carefully, she picks up the music box with gentle fingers, mindful of the top of the figurines accidentally hitting against the top of the cabinet as she pulls it out to get a better look.

"Wow..." she whispers in awe, trailing off as her fingers run over the smooth surface of the material. She wonders what it could be made out of that gave it this ancient look, while still allowing the colors to shine through as well as it does.

Up close, the details are even better than she imagined. Anakin and Obi-Wan's figures were painted and carved with the most painstaking care. The curves and lines of each point of their Jedi attire were taken into account when making the design for each of them. The lightsabers they grip in their hands are no different, the hard plaines of metal that went into the design of each lightsaber was shown in the finest detail as Melanie squinted at them.

But what was really astonishing was the level of detail in each of the men's faces. Both were scrunched up in rage and pain, but, if one looks close enough, you can still see the higher level of rage that must have been engraved and painted into Anakin's eyes.

She grins widely.

This is perfect! Her mom will love it!

As gentle as a feather, she slowly moves one hand down to the bottom of the music box to slowly twist the nob that would wind it up—

"Enjoying yourself?"

Fuck!

Melanie jumps, heart thudding in her chest at the unexpected sound.

She turns, guiltily, while still holding the music box, to see the smirking form of an older dark-haired woman behind her, who was dressed in a curious purple themed outfit.

Melanie supposes this is the shopkeeper she had been waiting for before she became distracted looking around.

The nameless woman casually leans one elbow against the front desk as she stands there, seemingly amused with Melanie's discomfort.

Melanie stutters in embarrassment at having been caught taking the music box from its glass case. "I—I am so sorry, I was just—"

"Well, now don't stop on my account, hun," The Shopkeeper says, lips pulling upwards into a full grin. She raises a hand, gesturing for Melanie to continue.

A beat. They stare at each other.

The Shopkeeper raises an eyebrow.

Melanie finally manages to snap out of it and look back towards the object in her hand.

"I—I really am sorry," she starts again, leaning over to gently put the music box back in its rightful place in the curio cabinet. "It's just so beautiful—"

"—Nothing to apologize for." The Shopkeeper croons, leaning up to slowly stroll towards her, and Melanie has no idea why, but she suddenly feels as if she is in the clutches of a predator. "It calls out to most people." she murmurs, coming to a stop beside Melanie's form as she gazes beyond the glass to look at the music box herself.

Still, Melanie was lucky she hadn't broken it. Who knows how expensive the damn thing is.

Speaking of which—

"By the way," Melanie begins, "I w-was just—wondering, I suppose—how much something like this is?"

The Shopkeeper turns to her, arms crossing over her chest as she stares into Melanie's face, as if she is looking at something beyond her physical form, and is judging it accordingly.

Silence.

"You know, like to buy." she clarifies, thinking perhaps the woman had misunderstood her.

A moment, as the nameless woman's dark and empty eyes gaze at her own.

Then, there is a blink, and it's as if the yawning emptiness had never been there at all.

"To buy?" The Shopkeeper chuckles, placing a hand on her chest, sounding very amused. "Oh, no, no, no, honey; I'm afraid this just isn't for sale."

Melanie blinks, gaping, as the rug is seemingly pulled out from under her.

She watches as The Shopkeeper struts by her and back around to the other side of the front desk.

"B-But!" Melanie stutters, turning and all but chasing after the woman, "But I don't understand. It's in the shop. Why would it be here if it isn't for sale?"

The Shopkeeper seems unbothered by her plight, simply grinning and shrugging her shoulders.

"I like to keep around the objects of my ire." The Shopkeeper says, confusing Melanie even more. "It reminds me to stay on my toes."

And Melanie, she should really let this go, she doesn't really understand why she is continuing to push this so much, but—

But it's perfect. Melanie thinks, eyeing the music box despairingly as it sits locked behind glass once again.

She'll never find anything else that her mom will love so much. And she wants to do this—now that she has excepted the inevitable—she wants to get something that her mom will remember forever, because Star Wars had been something her mom has loved since she was a child.

"Look, I can't pay an ungodly amount, but I do have some savings saved up—" she says, leaning against the glass of the front desk, but her mouth snaps shut as The Shopkeeper raises her hand in a zip it gesture.

"Ah, ah, ah!" The woman says, raising a finger and pointing it at Melanie chidingly, "Not. For..."

The Shopkeeper leans across the desk, poking Melanie on her nose like a child.

"Sale!" The Shopkeeper finishes, smiling brightly at Melanie's befuddled expression.

Melanie blinks once, and then sighs, deflating like a balloon as she accepts defeat.

"Okay. Fine," she accepts, giving in as she struggles to move on from the stunning music box, "I'm trying to get a present for my mom who's been in the hospital. She's always really been into the arts and old antique collections like this place," she says, gesturing around at the building.

"Ah! Wanting to bring a bit of the adventure to her, huh?" The Shopkeeper says, eyebrows wiggling a little as she references the sign outside.

Melanie gives a half-hearted smile. "Something like that."

The Shopkeeper hums, tapping a finger to her chin, a small smirk appearing on her lips. "You know... I don't usually do this, but I could get you an adventure book from one of my personal collections. For the right price, of course."

Melanie's lips dip downwards just the slightest bit. "Of course."

Maybe this was a mistake.

"Would you like me to bring a stack out for you to choose from?" The Shopkeeper asks.

"You have them here?" Melanie questions, face confused.

"Why, of course I do, dear!" The Shopkeeper exclaims, chuckling at her expression. "What do you think I was doing while you were bumbling around in here?"

Melanie's face turns pink as she ducks her head, mumbling embarrassingly to herself as The Shopkeeper laughs again in amusement.

"Just wait right here for a moment!" The Shopkeeper tells her with a smirk, before turning and walking down the dark hallway to the back of the store where employees would usually go.

Melanie sighs, standing there for a moment as she waits.

Seconds tick by, and, slowly, her gaze turns back to the curio cabinet with the music box locked inside it.

She isn't pouting.

Okay, so maybe she is just a little bit.

She turns and slowly makes her way back over to the glass cabinet, staring at the music box forlornly, when she has a thought pass over her.

Maybe she can't buy the music box, but she can still take a picture of it to show her mom, at least.

Melanie perks up a little, feeling better about the situation.

She takes her phone out of her pocket, pulling up the camera on her phone and pointing it towards the music box.

But, as she goes to take the picture, the camera won't focus. The glare of the sunlight continues to gleam off the glass cabinet in front of the music box, ruining the picture.

Melanie grumbles under her breath in frustration.

She glances over her shoulder to where the Shopkeeper had gone a moment ago, biting her lower lip in thought.

It'll just take a second.

Carefully, she opens the glass door of the cabinet again. As she pulls her phone out now, the camera focuses easily on the beautifully crafted music box.

Click.

The flash goes off as she takes the picture, and Melanie grins.

There. Perfect.

But then, before she can put her phone down, the picture starts to move.

Except, it's not the picture, Melanie realizes, as she slowly lowers her phone to gaze into the glass cabinet.

It's the music box. Somehow, without her even touching it, the thing has started to wind itself up without Melanie even realizing it.

Another click.

Soft, gentle beats of twinkling music start to emit from the music box. It—It almost sounds like—

Star Wars, she thinks wildly, heart thudding.

And then, the two figurines of Anakin and Obi-Wan begin to move, the engraved circular red lava they are on moving with them as they start to spin in circles; the slow, mechanical movements of their arms going back and forth, back and forth as they bang their lightsabers together in a battle of wills.

There is a dull ringing in her ears, and she feels, somehow, again, that she is on the precipice of something that she cannot escape.

A loud crack echoes through the room.

The figures of Anakin and Obi-Wan start to spin faster and faster.

Another ear splitting crack. Then another and another, when Melanie finally sees that it is the music box itself that is cracking, and not anything else around it.

The red ceramic lava that the spinning figures are fighting on has started to break.

Small, glowing fractures start to appear more and more as the music box seems to start rupturing in on itself.

Her hand lowers. She hears a thud as something falls to the ground.

She continues to stare, with an almost morbid fascination, as the music box starts to shake, an eerie green glow starting to gleam through the chinks in its armor.

All the while, Obi-Wan and Anakin spin faster and faster.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!"

Melanie's head snaps over.

And for a moment, The dark-haired Shopkeeper is there, face twisting into a snarl as she leers behind the front desk.

And then, a flicker, and in the Shopkeeper's place is a snarling creature with large claw-like hands and a maw with a row of sharp teeth that stretches from ear to ear.

Melanie opens her mouth to scream, but she never gets the chance.

Reality bends around her.

And then everything explodes.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Aaaannnd... cue Star Wars Theme! Lol.

Mel: Can I touch the music box?

The Shopkeeper: Of course! :)

Mel: Can I have it?

The Shopkeeper: No! 😡 Not for sale!

Mel: Why the fuck would you show it to me if I can’t have it?!! 😭😑

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #sw fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x oc #anakin skywalker/reader #anakin skywalker/oc #anakin x reader #anakin x oc #pro jedi #in defense of the jedi #in defense of the jedi order #jedi #in defense of the jedi council #pro jedi council #pro jedi order #jedi culture respected #isekai #modern girl in star wars

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onewomancitadel · 2 years

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The kidult genre in fandom reception

I'm going to be a bit polemic and say that I think the emergence of kidult entertainment (or the idea of the kidult genre in fandom reception) might be a mistake, for a few reasons I'll outline in this post, most of which is that I think children's media analysis and adult media analysis is incompatible. I'm wondering now how much of a relationship there is between kidult entertainment and flattened media discourse ('if you consume bad thing you are/do bad thing'). Because I think it's undisputed that what types of stories children grow up on really does matter, and parent/guardian-led exposure is really important (and more complicated because there's so much you can watch just at your fingertips; I used to have to sneak into my brother's room late at night where he had a TV to watch South Park) - conflating that with adult experience is unrealistic at best, though, because helping children become discerning adults is part of growing up, but by the time you're grown up, you should be a discerning adult.

The kidult genre is in a really weird position where it can't lean into the innocence of children's media and it can't lean into the nuance of adult media. It means you end up with this kind of sterile brightly-coloured farce, which is trying to be serious and unserious at the same time - a spoonfeeding narrative message is expected, but it should be of the adult type. It's what makes Steven Universe's narrative resolution - I haven't seen the show, but it was impossible to not be subjected to the controversy as a Tumblr user - make little sense to the audience that didn't like it, because there was an expectation of a kidult resolution addressing the themes and characters in a way they think it ought to have. Redemption of all of the villains is unrealistic and offensive to the kidult palate, because of the way direct (adult) allegory is read into the evil committed by the villains in the story, and there needs to be a realistic moral system to address that.

I believe that Steven Universe was a children's show, but it attracted a major teenage/adult audience who cultivated very different expectations from what I think the show was trying to be - and I think this is an Internet phenomenon only really possible through the way fandom works now, coinciding with a major shift in the way we conceive of fandom not just as a hobby but as political activity. I don't think it's inappropriate to be a fan of children's media as an adult at all - it's just expecting it to be adult is a problem.

I think it's obvious media meant for children does have adult resonance - but I really think that's more from the angle that there are ways of writing things for children that are smart, timeless, and emotional, and make you think about a different perspective (a child's especially). The Little Prince is one of the best examples that come to mind, but things like Beatrix Potter, fairytales in general meant for children, any Studio Ghibli film etc. are all obviously things that touch the heart in adults. However, if you apply the wrong lens of interpretation (why is this thing not nuanced in the way an adult property ought to be) - up to and including misinterpreting how children interpret metaphor - you're going to be very disappointed, but also flatten the purpose of storytelling for kids.

I don't mean to sound like I'm stating the obvious, but storytelling is really important for kids, and so I think it is actually quite a serious matter. What types of shows they watch and stories they read impact their early schooling (it can supplement preschool education), reading itself is necessary for developing literacy (and reading to children is really important), what sorts of lessons they derive are really important, and learning to consider things from how a child sees something versus how you as an adult see something is an exercise in empathy for the most vulnerable people population we're responsible for. That's part of my issue with kidult fandom reception/analysis, because it wants to erase a different perspective, whilst wanting to preserve a superficial aesthetic.

The point I was working towards is that kidult entertainment is where you get to preserve moral simplicity, where things feel safe and in control, but introduce an adult expectation of nuance and in some cases realistic literalism. It's something that I feel is untenable - I mean, look at the explosion online after Steven Universe - because moral simplicity and nuance don't really go together by nature. I don't think it's surprising the kidult genre has emerged (and to me, it feels like something that largely exists on fandom spaces, though one may argue about Voltron because that did really blur the boundary) because it addresses the emergent political and emotional needs at hand.

Children need to see things that reflect the strengths they need to get through life, through loneliness, through being bullied at school or having a hard family life, that sometimes they might do bad things and need help to do good things, and they need to learn how to encounter new things and deal with them. It's really just a completely different genre and necessary media analysis. It's something I'm less familiar with as I'm not certified in any childhood development, but I can't emphasise enough it really is a different beast from normal narrative criticism. Even then, I don't think the issue is as simplistic as people make it out to be online, even for adult consumption - but for kids, hopefully a responsible parent/guardian is involved, not someone fingerwagging behind a social media account.

Identifying where adult consumption of children's media - the kidult genre - crosses over with recent shifts in Internet discourse is really interesting, though. Maybe it's as simplistic as the Internet flattening nuance and contrarian opinions going wild. Maybe it's the need for moral certainty when things seem uncertain. I can't be certain myself.

I still think the kidult genre (that, again, I think exists more in fandom reception than necessarily in production) is ultimately untenable, and I might go so far as to say is a product of moral discourse and bad media analysis in fandom.

#stirring the pot #a post I ended up writing before posting another thing #because I was thinking about parents sharing that their children cried at the end of TROS because Ben was dead #and they couldn't understand why that when he became a good boy he had to die #when I read those I was like #wow Star Wars isn't about me at all #and the Original Trilogy was meant to be a fairytale for kids #who got to see a father do what he needed to do for his son #even when the son was a hero who cared #and was powerful #he still got looked after #and for all of the mythic discourse surrounding SW and the death of myth with the ending of the ST #it wasn't about any of us and it wasn't about useless idiots with YouTube accounts #who were offended Rey was a girl or Kylo Ren cried too much or that Rey was no one #it was about the children who needed a modern fairytale :(

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