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wits-writing · 1 year

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We Just Got a Letter(boxd)!: Star Wars Sundays

Back at the start of this year (as in the literal first thing I did on New Years Day) I decided to start up a weekly rewatch of all the live action Star Wars movies in release order.

Called it my “Star Wars Sundays”

It was intended to be something I did just for fun and just for myself. The further I went along into the series I found myself with more to say as my enthusiasm for this universe hit in a way it hasn’t in a long time ago in a galaxy far far away. That enthusiasm came through in what I was writing as I logged each movie into my Letterboxd profile, giving insight into whatever stood out to me (for better or worse) with each film. Mainly in the form of whatever about the movie was most immediately on my mind after watching.

Do I think anything I had to say is a particularly hot take on Star Wars? Somehow bringing something new to the discussion of one of the most thoroughly discussed film series ever made?

Not really.

But even as what I was writing about this movies got more detailed as I went along, I never lost the sense of fun I was having.

So since it’s The Day the Internet Drives a Star Wars Pun Into the Ground, I figured I may as well compile everything I wrote about those movies over those eleven weeks in one place.

Let’s get this started

Star Wars (Watched: 1/1/2023)

Starting a weekly release order rewatch of these movies, my first full look back at them in a while.

There’s an argument to be made that this original is still the weirdest of all the movies in a wonderful way!

[Note from the present: If I’d known I’d be posting these all together here, probably would’ve had more to say about this one]

The Empire Strikes Back (Watched: 1/8/2023)

The willful denial of closure by making the followup to one of the greatest crowd-pleasers of all time a story where the bad guys win and the heroes are stuck with their backs to the wall set a precedent that all "darker sequels" since have been trying to emulate.

Though the imitators often miss how character focused everything leading up to the downer ending of this movie. All the big spectacle action here is front loaded into the battle on Hoth before the scope focuses down for the rest of the movie on Luke's training with Yoda and Leia/Han's romantic back and forth.

Return of the Jedi (Watched 1/15/2023)

As a kid this one was always my favorite and the parts that made it that still hold up; escaping Jabba's clutches, the speeder bike chase, Luke's final confrontation with Vader, and plenty others.

But you can feel this one stretching out at the seams in a way the previous two did not. The narrative momentum those movie's benefited from is conspicuously absent here until the story's final third. Plus the ways Lucas was exhausted from managing these massive productions at this point shows in certain story decisions, like the hasty retcon to turn Leia into Luke's sister as a way to pay off the "No, there is another" tease from Empire. Thus closing off the original outline for the sequel trilogy, which would've focused on Luke's non-Leia twin sister.

All that said, by the time this movie is over and everyone's celebrating their victory together I can't help but feel my spirits being lifted as a smile winds up on my face.

The Phantom Menace (Watched 1/22/2023)

To say a few nice things; when the storytelling in this movie is purely done through the visuals, it's actually pretty great. That's probably the reason the Duel of the Fates sequence is so fondly remembered, no bit of story telling is stronger in this movie than the body languages of Qui Gon, Obi Wan, and Maul while the three are trapped between force fields.

The thematic groundwork this lays out for the rest of the prequels is also fairly interesting. Presenting the pristine style of the systems under the Republic in contrast to an Outer Rim territory like Tatooine. Which also speak to the misplaced confidence the Republic has in its own operation with hints laid that this is more a Gilded Age than a golden one, with corruption and greed laying just below the surface.

The problem is that everything around those elements of the story and even some of those used to communicate it are so stiffly delivered. Either through the pacing or the delivery from the actors. Plus this movie sucks at communicating its stakes, we hear so much about how Naboo is suffering under the Trade Federation's occupation but are shown no evidence of it even once. We spend so much time among aristocrats, politicians, and Jedi that this movie forgets to consider portraying the common people in any form besides the occasional line here or there.

This was the Star Wars movie I always felt like revisiting the least when I was a kid. While there are ones I dislike more now (we'll get there in the coming weeks), this rewatch made me remember why that was.

Attack of the Clones (Watched: 1/29/2023)

There's definitely something to be said for how this movie chooses to be about the birth of the Galactic Empire. Obi-Wan's plot following the machinations and conspiracies that are literally manufacturing the armed forces for both sides of the upcoming Clone War drives our view into that aspect of the story. Genuinely love the way it culminates in Dooku flatout telling Kenobi what's happening with the Republic in the lead up to this war. Whether the Jedi believes him or not, it strikes a division between the Jedi Order and those they serve regardless.

Anakin's side of the story, on the other hand, has to rest a lot of its substance on George Lucas' (self-admitted) lackluster dialogue. Since the Prequels started with Anakin so young and innocent, this movie needs to sell us on Anakin both as a noble Jedi Apprentice in his own right and as someone on the edge of falling to the Dark Side. It winds up in a place where his journey to evil feel rushed and underdeveloped as it gets left off in this entry.

Revenge of the Sith (Watched: 2/5/2023)

The Prequel Trilogy's central trio of characters is clearly meant to be Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Padme. A big problem this movie has is that one member of that trio is given no agency or story to speak of for themselves. Padme's entire character gets reduced to "worried about Anakin" and her utility in the plot down to "gives birth to Luke and Leia." I can't argue with the fact that she gets the best line in the movie with "So this is how liberty dies... with thunderous applause." But one good line does not make up for every other misstep this movie makes with her.

Those problems with the part Padme plays in this movie are in line with the problems Revenge of the Sith has in its overall plotting. It's in a rush to get everything to where the audience remembers it being at the beginning of the 1977 original film. Which gets in the way of the good things this movie does have going for it.

I enjoy the opening 20 minute long set piece's role in this narrative as a last "just for fun" adventure for Anakin and Obi-Wan. It create the necessary dramatic contrast to how they end the movie on opposite sides. This movie is also dramatically playing on what I said about Attack of the Clones, the Republic was already the Galactic Empire in all but name by the time that movie ended. What we see here are simply the last steps Palpatine has to take to make sure there are no more obstacles in his way.

Purely from a broad plotting standpoint this is a perfectly tragic finale to a trilogy that was always building to tragedy. But the rush it's in to make sure that tragedy can happen within its runtime ends up failing several key elements that could've made this a stronger movie.

The Force Awakens (Watched: 2/12/2023)

I love how effectively this movie sets up its two leads in Rey and Finn. The first chunk of this movie dedicated to setting up each of them as fundamentally lost people, but in inverse ways.

Through the village massacre by the First Order that opens the movie and helping Poe escape, we see Finn realize he wants no place in the fascist idea of "order" he's been raised/trained in. He decides to start running and that brings him right into the path of the people that are going to start changing his life for the better, Poe and Rey.

While Finn's defined by how he's running from danger, Rey's established as someone determined to stay put despite dreaming of adventures like those in the legends she's heard. A character trait acutely visualized when she takes time out from eating her dinner to put on an old Rebellion pilot helmet as she watches starships leave Jakku. Coming across BB-8 puts her on a path that winds up crossing with Finn's and winds up forcing her out of her desolate situation as a scavenger gathering scraps of tech in exchange for scraps of food. Waiting for people that are never going to come back for her.

The journey this movie takes them on together culminates when they reunite. Finn chooses to run towards the First Order for the sake of his friend after spending the whole movie determined to run away. In doing that, he winds up proving to Rey that she now has people in her life that care enough to come back for her.

Rogue One (Watched: 2/19/2023)

(Note: I haven't watched Andor yet and fully intend to at some point)

I deeply wish this entire movie was as well executed as its final act.

Up until the mission on Scarif, Rogue One is fairly scattershot in terms of how it executes on the ideas it presents. A nature reflected in the narrative structure provided by the films editing. A problem that starts early on as we quickly jump from Jyn as a child in the prologue to her as an imprisoned adult for all of thirty seconds before jumping directly into Cassian's introduction. We don't get to know how Jyn is living with her current situation and only get told about it later when she meets with Saw Gerrera.

The majority of the titular squadron don't really get much breathing room for us to get to know them. Their personalities mostly communicated through quick inferences. Ones that all make me want to know and see more of them, but still simply inferences.

One character who is incredibly well developed that I've loved since the first time I saw this movie is Ben Mendelsohn as Imperial Director Orson Krennic. A figure who wields what limited power he has in the Galactic Empire's structure with great pride and takes it incredibly personal when that power doesn't grant him more reward than his superiors are willing to deal out (or even actively deny.) A perfect balancing act between menacing and pathetic.

Which brings us back to this movie's final act on Scarif, because Krennic's position within the Empire plays in parallel to the position of the rebel soldiers that make up the unit of Rogue One. While Krennic longs for recognition at any cost short of himself, Rogue One fight to make the Galaxy a better place even if they're never recognized for it. The ideological division, mixed with some of the best on screen action in a Star Wars film makes this movie's bittersweet conclusion strong enough to make up for the messy way the movie gets there.

The Last Jedi (Watched: 2/26/2023)

Despite the hell of modern Star Wars discourse, despite what followed in this trilogy, despite everything...

This is still my absolute favorite Star Wars movie!

A movie that says hope isn't just something to believe in, but something you can create for yourself and others

A movie that says it's never too late to learn from your failures and that those failures don't define you

A movie that says our place in the world and among those we love are not preordained but the product of our choices

A movie that to this day reminds me of why I fell in love with Star Wars to begin with!

I wish I could be more elaborate and articulate about this, but in the immediate aftermath of this rewatch, the fact that it still has the effect it did on me when I first saw it in the theater is overwhelming.

All coming down to the great action, fun characters, spectacular visuals, and the perfect final shot!

Solo (Watched: 3/5/2023)

I'll take this over a hundred deep-faked Luke Skywalkers!

Alden Ehrenreich plays a character I can believe grows into the smug scoundrel we all remember from the original trilogy. Trying to act like he's not flying by the seat of his pants at any given moment, improvising his way around every new dangerous scenario.

The action set pieces here are a nice, varied series of heists across the various parts of the criminal underworld of A Galaxy Far Far Away. My absolute favorite being the chaos that gets unleashed on Kessel.

Feel like some people never gave this one a fair shot, but I still find it a pretty damn delightful space adventure.

The Rise of Skywalker (Watched: 3/12/2023)

A large part of why this movie still rubs me the wrong way is that I can tell it is trying so hard to be a satisfying, high-energy, action-adventure that also brings some form of thematic closure to the "Skywalker Saga." (A term for the nine "Episode" movies in the film series that was invented for the sake of marketing this movie.)

But I would've been fine with a movie that just brought a satisfying conclusion to this trilogy as its own thing. The only story line that does feel like it's prioritizing the weight of this trilogy's themes in this movie is Poe's character arc, picking up right from where we left him in The Last Jedi. An arc that asks whether the spark of rebellion will in fact come through to light the fire that will burn the First Order to the ground.

Culminating in a moment that I should, in theory, absolutely love, where those ordinary people gather up to join the final battle and turn the tide in The Resistance's favor. All the while the villains are baffled that the ones out maneuvering them are "just people" rather than an organized fleet.

But I can't feel what that moment's going for because it gets buried in The Palpatine of It All, which drags everything this movie could've had going for it down. The presence of the classic Star Wars' biggest Big Bad winds up being the main thing to override what the previous movies in this trilogy built up, especially with Rey. Her arc in this movie requires her to push away the very bonds she spent the previous two movies building after a life in isolation, but it feels so... forced (for lack of a better term.) To the very last minute this movie doesn't actually seem to care about those bonds, because where we could've ended on the shot of Rey, Finn, and Poe hugging in relief in celebration, we instead tack on a lazy callback to A New Hope where Rey is back where we first found her, alone on a desert planet.

Going through these movies on a weekly basis throughout the year so far, I've tried to find stuff to like in each of them no matter what my preexisting opinions of them were. Even in the ones I don't necessarily like, I managed that. But with The Rise of Skywalker, even finding those things (I genuinely think the fight between Rey and Kylo on the Death Star wreckage is the most interestingly choreographed fight in this trilogy) didn't make up for what it lacks.

If you like what you’ve read here, please like/reblog or share elsewhere online, follow me on Twitter (@WC_WIT), and consider throwing some support my way at either Ko-Fi.com or Patreon.com at the extension “/witswriting”

#star wars #movie review #wit's writing #We Just Got a Letter(boxd)#a new hope #the empire strikes back #return of the jedi #the phantom menace #attack of the clones #revenge of the sith #the force awakens #rogue one #the last jedi #solo: a star wars story #the rise of skywalker

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dickwheelie · 3 years

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sooooooo I wrote a sequel to that love entities jmart post that got pretty popular. all you really need to know is that post mag 200 jon becomes a local cryptid and listens to people's stories about encounters with the entities to help unburden them of some of their fear. please enjoy!

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Just inside the entryway of Old Fishmarket Close, hidden just out of sight of the street, there stands a shrine. It is not an old shrine of weathered stone, nor is it carefully crafted with intricate religious symbols, nor is it static, weighed down by years of collected dust. It is in many ways a living shrine; flowers bloom and wilt at its feet, while above it, against the wall of the Close, piles of paper, photographs, and keepsakes are haphazardly stacked and stuck. The shrine seems to breathe as each day passes, as innumerable and unsung hands replace its flowers and let their offerings crawl up its wall like vines.

The shrine is not marked, but everyone who looks for it, in the shadows of the entryway, knows precisely who it is for.

You arrive that day with only a piece of notebook paper in your hand. Upon it is written a short message, and not an uncommon one to see at the shrine: Thank You. A substitute, of sorts, for the flowers and other gifts that people often leave. You, like many others, are not well off, and you hope that a small note can make up for your lack of material offerings.

As you approach the shrine, a gust of wind whistles through the alleyway and rustles the pages plastered across the length of the wall. You’ve brought no adhesive, so you slip the piece of paper partially beneath a bouquet lying on the stone walkway. It’s relatively fresh, so you hope it won’t be moved anytime soon. You’ve no idea who replaces the flowers, but you suspect it’s never the same person twice. The locals all know about the shrine and the person it’s meant for, and they’ve grown protective of them both.

Dozens of other people have had the same idea before you; the ground is littered with short notes of gratitude. Thank you for listening, says one, transcribed in loving calligraphy, the i’s dotted with hearts. Thank You For Finding Me, Whoever You Are, says another. I rely lik yor hat, says one written in crayon. Another says, You’ll probably never read this, but thank you for hearing my story. There must be hundreds of them, and there are more each time you visit.

You had spent the better part of the morning trying to come up with something more eloquent to write, but you’ve never been great with words. Telling the mysterious person your story had been the only time you’d ever felt as though your words matched your thoughts, that what came out of your mouth was exactly how you felt, and that the person you were talking to understood you fully.

You suppose a thank you is better than nothing, and after one last fond look at the shrine, you turn to go.

A footstep that is not your own echoes down the alleyway. You turn, half-alarmed, but relax at once when you see who it is.

You have only ever seen him once before, about a month ago when you told him your story, but he is difficult to forget; his figure tall and thin, his posture horrendous, his features hidden entirely by a long coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He stands now at the far end of the alleyway, hands clutched before his hunched torso, giving you the distinct impression he’s staring directly at you.

“Um, hello,” you say, haltingly. You’re not quite sure how to address him, but you figure a polite greeting is universal. You gesture at the shrine. “I don’t have, uh, another story or anything. I was just leaving a note for you.”

His hat tips curiously to the side, and he shuffles forward with his cautious gait, peering closer at the shrine. The dark brim of his hat swivels towards you, as though asking a question.

“The shrine,” you say. “I just left a short note. It’s no big thing, I just—I wanted to leave something.”

The words seem to mean nothing to him. He looks at the shrine, then at you, then back at the shrine. He steps a bit closer to it, and reaches out a long-fingered, gloved hand to touch the petals from a bouquet of daffodils. After the briefest of moments, he pulls away again, hands resuming their wringing.

A thought occurs to you. “Do you . . . do you not know what this is?”

He shakes the hat once.

“This is . . . this is for you,” you say, spreading your arms to encompass the garden on the ground and the sea of pages above. “The flowers, the little trinkets, the thank-you letters—it’s for you. From . . . from all of us, who’ve told you our stories. You’ve helped us so much, we wanted to let you know how much we appreciated it. How grateful we are.”

He doesn’t react, and so you reach out and pick out a card, one that says, Talking to you about how scared I was of the dark made me less afraid of it. I sleep better at night because of what you did for me. Thank you, mysterious stranger. Much love, E.M.

“Here,” you say, handing it to him, and he takes it with a shaky glove. The brim of his hat lowers as he reads. "That’s just one of them. There are loads more just like that.” You survey the pile and pick out another. “This one’s from a kid, thanking you for helping their mom . . . And this one’s just a simple thank you note but they did cover it in glitter glue, so, there’s that . . . And this person wanted you to know that their anxiety improved after talking to you . . .”

He takes note after note from you, reading them all, silent and unexpressive as always, but there’s something in his posture that is unbearably human. Somehow it reminds you of how people stand when they hold a baby chick in their hands.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know,” you say, not unkindly. You’re both sitting on the ground now, amidst the bouquets and piles of thank-yous. “Who else would this all be for?”

As he picks up yet another note, a tremor runs through his body. He raises a gloved hand to the shadows beneath the hat, and you watch as two drops of water stain the page in his hand. His chest convulses as more tears fall, his hand moving under the hat to wipe them away, but they keep coming. Still he makes no sound.

You didn’t know he could cry. You don’t know why you’re surprised; he’s strange, certainly, and perhaps not entirely human . . . but he has heard so many horrible things, and human or not, he deserves a chance to cry.

“Are you—are you okay?” you say, not sure what to do.

The hat nods once, and then shakes.

“I . . . I know it’s probably a lot, all at once,” you say, and you reach out to touch his arm. The movement comes naturally, without much thought; you would have done the same for a friend.

He flinches at your touch, and you immediately pull away, but then he relaxes again, and nods. Tears are still falling from the shadows down onto his coat.

You touch his arm again, gently, and he doesn’t move away. “I’m sorry if it’s overwhelming. But we really are grateful, and you have a bad habit of not accepting thanks. This was one of the only ways we could think to . . . to show you.” You take a deep breath, and gaze into the shadows of where his face might be, doing your best to look him in the eye. “We don’t really know who you are, or why you came here, or why you choose to listen to us. But somehow, we know you mean well. I think everyone who’s told their story knows that, me included. That you’re trying to help us, that you want to do good. And you do. We . . . we want you to know that you’ve done good.”

His chest rises and falls shakily, and though he still makes no sound you swear you can hear a sob. He reaches out and grasps your arm in turn, and suddenly you realize what he needs.

“Can I give you a hug?” you ask.

The hat nods, again and again, and you open your arms, and he falls forward. You would have done the same for a friend.

You almost expect the hug to be gentle, but it is not; it is tight and desperate, and feels so human you do not think twice about hugging him back just as tightly. He is not terribly warm, but you can feel a heart beating beneath his coat. A few tears fall on the back of your jacket. You know that if you just looked up, you would be able to see his face beneath the hat, but you keep your eyes shut tight.

When you move apart, a few moments later, he seems a little more composed, and no more tears fall from beneath the hat. He straightens his back a bit, growing taller even in a sitting position, and you can see just the barest hint of a mouth, which is smiling a delicate, wobbly sort of smile. He brings a gloved hand up to his chin, placing his fingertips against it, and moves them towards you, once, twice.

You are by no means fluent in sign language, but you recognize the sign for Thank you when you see it.

You smile back at him. “You’re welcome,” you say.

He looks back at the shrine, at the piles and piles of notes he has yet to read. You watch as he picks up a handful more, seemingly at random, shuffling them in his hands and pressing them close to his chest. After a pause, he reaches out and slowly picks up one of the bouquets, overflowing with small blue flowers. You’re not entirely sure, but you think they might be forget-me-nots. He pulls a single flower from the bunch and tucks it, carefully, into the collar of his coat, as though for safekeeping.

He nods once, satisfactorily, and stands slowly, giving a small bow in your direction before he turns and shuffles back down the alleyway, the bushel of blue flowers peeking over his shoulder, rustling in the breeze.

Just before he is swallowed by the shadows at the far end of the Close, you call out, “Thank you! Again. For . . . for everything.”

It’s certainly just a trick of the light, but when he turns back to look at you, just before the shadows overtake him, you swear you can see the light catch on a single, twinkling eye, crinkled in one corner by what must be a smile.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #gwyneth writes

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dakotadelacour · 2 years

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Laying the Foundation

Recently, I decided to remove my work from AO3 because writing, as a hobby, isn’t benefiting me as well as it used to. I made an author’s note to inform readers of my decision, and some of them reached out to ask for a summary of how I would have finished my WIP series had I continued to write it. I’m happy to oblige, but I need to start by sharing a lot of background information. That’s why this post is titled Part 1 of 3: Laying the Foundation. In it, I’ll explain what made me want to write Dramione fanfiction in the first place and what my original intentions were for my most popular story, Between the Lines. I promise the relevancy of Part 1 will become clearer in Part 2: Framing the House, where I’ll describe exactly how my story went awry and in Part 3: Installing the Windows, where I’ll give readers a detailed look at how the sequel to Between the Lines might have ended.

I was late to the Harry Potter fandom. As a middle schooler, I read the first three books, but each time I considered tackling the Goblet of Fire I decided against it. I thought, “Why would I read that giant book when I could read two or three smaller ones in the same amount of time?” Additionally, I saw all the films as they came out, but I just wasn’t that invested in them. Basically, I was not a proper fan. Until — Well, until Half Blood Prince, the film, was released. That’s when things started to change for me. I was surprised to learn the seemingly inconsequential bully character, Draco Malfoy, had a larger, more important role to play than I had anticipated. His arc intrigued me enough that I went back and read the books from start to finish, hoping to learn more about him. But the books didn’t say as much about Draco as I had hoped. So I thought to myself, “Fanfiction is a thing, right?” In other words, I initially dipped my toes into this hobby not because I was interested in a ship, but because I wanted to explore Draco's life after the war, what he learned from his experiences, how he managed to cope — all that delightful angsty redemption arc stuff! Of course, I quickly came across Dramione stories. And almost as quickly, I realized, "Yeah, Draco getting a redemption arc and falling in love with a Muggle-born intertwines perfectly, doesn't it?" So there I was, reading fanfiction, looking at fanart, and just having a jolly ol’ time. And then —

I came across a Pinterest post one day and it planted a seed in my mind which would eventually become Between the Lines. The Pinterest post said JKR shared in an interview that Draco fancied Hermione when they were at Hogwarts, but he had to hide his feelings because of his pureblood parents and because of Lord Voldemort. [Sidebar! I’ve never been able to confirm JKR actually said this, but the seed was planted regardless. If anyone can confirm and has a link to the interview, I’d love to see it!] So I saw that on Pinterest and as much as I liked the idea, I thought, “Really? Draco had feelings for Hermione but was horrible to her anyway? That’s a lame detail to throw at the readers after the fact, JKR!” [Second sidebar! She does that a lot of that, right? I ignore her these days so I’m not sure, but I’m told that’s kind of her M.O.] Feeling skeptical, I read the books again, wondering if the dynamic between Draco and Hermione would come across any differently this time. And you know what? It actually did. This second start-to-finish read through, which I will refer to for several upcoming paragraphs, was ages ago now. As such, please forgive me if I get some details wrong. But what follows is a summary of the canon patterns I noticed, as best as I can remember them. Throughout the first three books, Draco and Hermione have very few direct interactions with one another. In fact, in Philosopher's Stone and Chamber of Secrets, they exchange words only once. That’s the memorable scene in which Hermione says, "At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent." And Draco says, "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood." There are additional moments in these two books in which Draco makes fun of Hermione or is otherwise hateful towards her, but they happen either 1) behind her back or 2) when she’s around but Draco, even though he’s talking about her, isn’t talking to her. So that was the first thing I found interesting in my read through: Draco is horrible to plenty of other people, but when it comes to Hermione, at least early on, it's almost as if he's too nervous to interact with her directly. Hmmm. Interesting. That certainly got the ol’ hamster wheel a-turnin’. In Prisoner of Azkaban, the order of events are a bit different from book to film. In both, Hermione doesn't smack/punch Draco until pretty late in the school year. But in the book, it’s the same day she misses Charms (because she forgets to use her time-turner). Then, Harry and Ron find her in the common room sleeping on her Arithmancy book and she says "I was thinking about Draco and lost track of time.” It’s also the same day that, after waking her in the common room, they go to Divination and Hermione freaks out on Trelawney and storms out of the classroom. It’s all set up in a way that makes us, the readers, believe that she was on edge because she’d been juggling so many classes. But what if there was more to it than that?

Headcanon developed! Those who have read Between the Lines already know how I played with this scene. I like to think Draco took Arithmancy too, and he felt so guilty about upsetting Hermione (to a degree that she smacked him!) that he apologized to her after class. It makes that line of hers, “I was thinking about Draco,” and her being flustered in Divination so much more interesting. An apology that Harry knows nothing about? That’s the first headcanon that really stuck with me.

Anyway, other than that popular smack scene, Prisoner of Azkaban continues to show Draco and Hermione interacting with one another far less often than Draco and Harry or Draco and Ron. However, Draco's behavior towards her takes an obvious turn in Goblet of Fire, starting with the Quidditch World Cup. I know some Dramione fans like to say Draco “warned” Hermione about Death Eaters so that she’d be safe. I like that idea a lot, but what I find more interesting are the patterns which emerge (or become more obvious) throughout the rest of the book. For example, Draco starts addressing Hermione directly more often, and he starts calling her a Mudblood more consistently. I don’t know the exact numbers, but I think he says Mudblood like, twice in the first three books and then like, a a zillion times in Goblet of Fire. Which is awful. Totally awful. I’m not excusing slurs. But why the change? Sure, it’s easy to say it’s because Hermione hit him the previous term so now she’s on his radar. Except she was definitely on his radar before, right? We know this because of the filthy little Mudblood comment and the other rude things he says about her to Harry. So maybe it’s because he’s compensating for something? Hmmm. interesting. Yes, very interesting. Additionally, two other patterns emerge (or, again, become more obvious) in Goblet of Fire. One is a Draco pattern, the other is a Hermione pattern. Both are best explained using examples. On the train ride to Hogwarts, Draco alludes to knowing something about the Triwizard Tournament. But he's secretive and pompous about it, like, "Weasley, don't you know why we need dress robes this year? No? Even though your father works at the Ministry?" And Harry and his friends basically respond with, "You're a jerk, Malfoy. Go away." But it's not until Hermione chimes in, telling Draco to knock it off, that he’s finally listens. He’s like, "Okay, okay, I’ll stop. See you wankers later.” That’s a direct quote.

Now, I don't remember any other examples off the top of my head, but in my read through, I noticed this sort of thing happening a lot. Draco doesn't quit with his antics until Hermione is the one who tells him to do so. Got that? Great. Now, for the Hermione pattern. It’s basically the flip side of Draco’s. He actually listens when she tells him to sod off, and maybe that’s because he’s afraid she’ll hit him again she’s consistently more patient with him than her friends are. While Harry and Ron are quick to assume the worst and fire off hexes and jinxes, Hermione is more likely to roll her eyes or find a funny way to deal with Draco. Take this example. …You're joking, Weasley!" said Malfoy, behind them. "You're not telling me someone's asked that to the ball? Not the long-molared Mudblood?" Harry and Ron both whipped around, but Hermione said loudly, waving to somebody over Malfoy's shoulder, "Hello, Professor Moody!" Malfoy went pale and jumped backward, looking wildly around for Moody, but he was still up at the staff table, finishing his stew. "Twitchy little ferret, aren't you, Malfoy?” said Hermione scathingly, and she, Harry, and Ron went up the marble staircase laughing heartily…

It's a great demonstration of how, in canon, Draco and Hermione are more enemies than not, it’s true. But generally speaking, she finds Draco more tiring than infuriating. Hmmm. Why might that be? Well, maybe it’s because Hermione’s clever enough to know that Draco’s bullying stems from his insecurities more than he realizes. Or, maybe it’s because they’ve shared a few private moments in which he’s shown her his better qualities. Apology after Arithmancy, right? Or, maybe — just maybe — she’s noticed all of Draco’s patterns, the ones I noticed while reading, and she’s drawn some conclusions. That’s right, folks. I not only headcanon that Draco had conflicted and reluctant romantic feelings for Hermione during their years at Hogwarts, but that Hermione suspected as much. As far as I’m concerned, she didn’t like him back but she was flattered that he liked her. She enjoyed feeling desirable enough that Draco Malfoy, despite his upbringing, couldn’t help but fall for her. At least a little. In this way, her reactions to Harry’s suspicions during Half-Blood Prince aren’t all that surprising, are they? It’s Ron who is surprising in that book and film. He’s normally right there with Harry, ready to hate Draco completely. But even he can’t fathom a sixteen year old becoming a Death Eater. Anyway, did I leap straight over Order of the Phoenix? Oops, I sure did. It’s actually my favorite of the books, but by that point in my read through, there wasn’t much left to notice about canon Dramione. Well, other than the previously mentioned patterns continuing within those pages. But really, if you buy into the headcanons I’ve shared thus far, all the interactions between them in the later books start to feel like they have a double meaning. Sure, Draco keeps being a jerk, but a lot of it seems almost playful. (“Who blackened your eye, Granger? I want to send them flowers.”) It's as they have an unspoken understanding where Hermione’s like, "I know you're not as bad as you'd like everyone to think you are," and Draco’s like, "I know you've noticed these subtleties about me, but I'll never admit to them out loud.” In other words, there’s something going on Between the Lines.

Now that I’ve explained all that, let me circle back and drive home a point that’s particularly important to me. The smack scene is THE! PIVOTAL! SCENE! If the Pinterest post I mentioned earlier was the seed which eventually became Between the Lines, noticing how Draco’s behavior changed after that is the soil and the sun that made the seed grow. [Another sidebar! Maybe I should have gone with a plant metaphor for this three part Tumblr series. But, alas, my dad builds houses for a living and, as such, construction metaphors have always spoken to my heart.] Okay, moving on. Remember when I said I first started reading fanfiction not for Dramione but for Draco’s redemption arc? Well, after my canon read through, I was desperate for stories that weaved in mentions of all that I’d noticed. But, sadly, I couldn’t find those mentions anywhere. All I was finding was, like, “They hated each other in school! She doesn’t know if she can forgive him, even though Harry and Ron already have.” Or, on the other end of the spectrum, I saw a lot of Hermione being the one to pine for Draco. She wanted him so much because *reasons!* Listen, you know the kind. They involve Draco being handsome and having a big — Mwahaha. What I’m getting at is that I read a lot of stories that didn’t give me what I was craving most. [Another other sidebar: I’ve since gotten better at finding fics that are more in line with what I want to read. I’ve also gotten better at enjoying fics for what they are, regardless of how they fit with my headcanons. LIke, if it helps the plot, then by all means, make Draco and Hermione full-fledged enemies. Make her hate his stinking guts. You do you, boo boo.] I just wish more Dramione stories would explore the nuances that are right there in canon, waiting to inspire us! With that in mind, I transitioned from being a Dramione fanfiction reader to a Dramione fanfiction reader and writer. I was like, “Let me write the things I want to read but can’t seem to find anywhere.” In other words, the initial goal was to shine a light on what I’d noticed during my read though and to have fun with some headcanons. Pause. *Refers to her notes.* I’m dangerously close to stepping into Part 2: Framing the House territory. I’ll come back to my initial goal more in that upcoming post. For now, let me tell me about a wordsmith who typed a perfect sentence on Dramione reddit one day last summer. I was about halfway done writing Between the Lines when this happened. There was a post about redemption arc, with people sharing what they like and don’t like to see in them. And somewhere in the back and forth there was also talk about Draco having feelings for Hermione during their Hogwarts years. This is the wordsmith’s perfect sentence: “I have yet to read a fic in which [Draco’s] Hogwarts-era behavior juxtaposed with some secret romantic affection feels justified or reasonable.”

Merlin’s pants! I realized that was exactly what I was attempting to do with Between the Lines. I wanted to be the one to pull it off! I wanted to be the Queen of Juxtaposition! If I’m being totally honest, though, I think I failed at that. Yikes. Bummer. If you feel the urge to respond to this post, please don’t focus too heavily on that part. I’m not crying about it or anything. But, hey, now I truly have ventured into Part 2. Let’s step away for a few days and let it simmer. Next time, I’ll share how Graham Montague, that charming bloke, is to blame for everything that went wrong. He spilled the beans on a headcanon that was never supposed to make it into Between the Lines and it all unraveled from there. Ha! Unraveled. See what I did there, dear readers? As always, thanks for coming on this journey with me, especially now that it has taken such a strange turn. See you again soon.

#dramione #headcanons #the writing process #between the lines

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andypantsx3 · 3 years

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say the word and you know i’ll follow

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

status: complete

length: 3,262 words

summary: While moving in with Shouto, you get caught up reliving the scene of his confession. Quite literally.

(A smutty oneshot sequel to my fic if i could keep cool.)

tags: romance, reader-insert, fluff, smut

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, cunnilingus, light bondage

notes: Also cross-posted on my AO3! The manga really has me all in my Todo feels rn but I don't wanna write a whole other fic before I finish the Hawks one, so please have this fluffy smutty one shot as a compromise. It likely won’t make sense unless you’ve read if i could keep cool first, so please check it out if you have the time!

It was sweltering when you stepped outside to make your way to Shouto’s apartment.

A thin film of sweat immediately began to build wherever your skin pressed against the box you carried, and the sun beat down furiously on the crown of your head. You instantly started to second guess your choice to take the train, wondering how dumb of a move it had been to decline an alternative means of transit. It was going to be like being packed into a sardine can and roasted over a hot stove.

Shouto had offered to send an agency car, but there were only so many more times you were going to make the trip from your crumbling student apartment to his place, and you had wanted to make the most of it. You didn’t even really need to bring boxes over just yet--as Shouto had hired a moving company to take care of everything next week--but you didn’t want to lose anything that was inside this one. This one held all your most treasured items--keepsakes from your friends, a pressed white tulip, and all the gifts Shouto had ever given you (minus, of course, the vegetables).

Steeling yourself for an uncomfortable twenty minutes, you set off towards the station, weaving through the tired crowds of people who looked just as sun-weary as you. Thankfully, with a hat over your face and a box you could shift to obscure your features, very few people seemed to recognize you as you did so.

A lot of the media attention surrounding your mishap a year ago had died down, and you had been good about keeping your relationship mostly private, so you weren’t exactly a household name to most people. But there were enough twitter-savvy teens and meme-literate college students that you were sometimes recognized as you went about your daily life.

This time, you were only eyed curiously by one pair of teenage girls as they bundled into the train car across from you, but they didn’t say anything to you, didn’t ask you to reenact the most embarrassing five seconds of your entire life into their phones, as many often did. The box hid you from the rest of the train car, and no one else seemed to take interest in your presence.

After exiting the train at downtown, you made it to Shouto’s building in record time, all but rocket-fueled by your desire to get out of the hot sun. The security team in the lobby of his building gave you friendly nods as you passed, one of them graciously pressing the button for the elevator so you didn’t have to fumble around your box.

You thanked her, making your way into the elevator and elbowing the button for Shouto’s floor. The elevator was even cooler than the lobby, and you shivered in delight as the frigid chill of air conditioning washed over you. God, this building was so fucking nice compared to yours. You were going to be spoiled as fuck once you lived here.

You made it to Shouto’s floor without incident, though digging in your bag for your keys was impossible at the moment, so you knocked on his door as firmly as you could manage with the box still balanced in your arms.

There were a few seconds of silence. Then, the door swung open and Shouto stood there, grinning at you.

His hair still looked a little damp from a recent shower, and he was wearing a dark button up over a soft tee shirt and a pair of dark jeans. He looked unbearably good, as boyishly handsome as ever, and your heart gave an embarrassing little stutter, like it always did whenever you saw him. You suspected it was always going to be like that, no matter how long the two of you had been dating.

Shouto’s eyebrows went up as he considered the box in your arms. That heterochromatic gaze picked over you curiously, expression going carefully blank, like it typically did when he was up to some mischief. And then, after a long moment, he spoke.

“You’re not wearing the scarf,” he said, sounding upset.

You stared up at him, feeling your brow wrinkle. The scarf? It was fucking summer, and the scarf was neatly tucked away in the box you were holding. It was literally boiling hot just outside the well-air conditioned hallways of his building. Why on earth did he think you would be wearing--

You inhaled a little sharply when the answer hit you.

The scarf.

The scarf was the first thing he had mentioned the day he had finally confessed to you. Well, after you had confessed first, really, on national television earlier that week, that you were thirsty as hell for him and were also really bad at picking up subtle clues. Or overt clues. Or any clues, honestly.

But now you were standing in his hallway with a box again, and he was clearly remembering what had happened the last time you had done so.

You wracked your brain for what you had said to him in reply that day, trying to hone in on the words past the sudden swell of embarrassment.

“Uh, it’s in here,” you finally replied, gesturing to the box.

That grey and blue gaze dropped to the parcel in your arms, then flickered up to your face. You pushed the box at him, the way you had the day he’d confessed, feeling just as squirmish as you had then.

What else had you said to him? Something very watery and over dramatic, likely. Something like...

“It’s all, um, there--if you wanted to check,” you said. “Except for the vegetables obviously. But I can pay you back, if you give me a couple months.”

Shouto was clearly suppressing a smirk as he feigned curiosity. “Pay me….what?”

You suppressed your own absurd laugh, wondering how far down mortifying memory lane he wanted to go.

“I also wrote down a recommendation for a new cleaning lady, if you want,” you said, patting the top of the box. “It’s in there. Her name’s Mika, she’s super nice. And I can message you or your manager when I have the money. Just let me know which one you’d prefer. Or I can have Mika drop it off.”

Shouto gripped the box, then, long, elegant fingers pulling back the flaps for him to peer inside. He looked absolutely delighted to find the scarf actually within. In one fluid movement, he pulled the scarf out, depositing the box behind him, and turned back to grab your sleeve, pulling you quickly into the apartment with him.

“Okay, what are you doing with the scarf this time?” you laughed, breaking character.

One white eyebrow went up as Shouto gripped your wrist firmly, eyeing you closely as he pulled off your baseball cap.

“Mm,” he hummed absently in his deep tone. “Something I should have done the first time.” He caught your other wrist, pressing it into the sinfully soft fabric of your favorite accessory.

You looked at him, bewildered, feeling your mouth twist into a slight frown. You rather liked the way things had gone the first time around, considering that you had ended up with a boyfriend at the end of it all. What was his bone to pick with the first time around?

“Uh, if I’m recalling correctly, the first time went great,” you said to him. “Like, really really great. Christening your countertops several different times great.”

There was a flash of white teeth as Shouto grinned.

“Ah, but I missed an opportunity,” he said. A soft sensation slid over your other wrist, and you looked down in confusion.

Then it hit you what he was up to, and your face instantly went up in flames.

A firm tug had your wrists knotted together, and Shouto smirked down at you, tugging you closer by the silky fabric of your scarf. Your stomach swooped at the intent look in his eye.

“I had been upset you weren’t wearing the scarf,” he said. “But there was an easy way to fix that.”

You swallowed heavily, your tongue feeling strangely thick. Your brain was suddenly, but predictably, very very empty.

“Y-yeah. But technically you, um. You did fix it,” you babbled helplessly, limbs growing shivery with static as Shouto pressed closer. He was so warm, and he was so stupidly handsome.

“I’ve, uh, worn it a lot since,” you managed.

Shouto considered you quietly, a familiar, wry little smile pressing at the corner of his mouth.

Before you’d started dating, you’d been confused as hell by that expression, suspecting it meant he was bewildered by your very existence but was too polite to say so. After just over a year together, however, you had learned that was just what his face did when he thought you were being unreasonably appealing. Which, mystifyingly, was mostly when the working part of your brain disconnected from your mouth.

You scrounged around for other coherent words, thoughts thick and sluggish, like you were thinking through pudding.

Shouto, however, was merciful, putting an end to your suffering by leaning down and taking your mouth with his.

All the coherent thought you’d managed to dredge up melted away like frost under the morning sun. You pressed yourself closer to him, leaning up to give him better access to your mouth. Shouto kissed you as stupid as he always did before a hot hand came up to cup your face, thumb sliding over your cheek affectionately.

“It seems I’ve got you in the scarf as I had wanted,” Shouto said quietly, once he let you up for air. “But now I find that the scarf is all I want you in.”

You opened your mouth to respond, though what you might have said was as much a mystery to you as anyone. But all that managed to come out was a choked, breathy little noise.

Shouto laughed.

Then there were large hands on your waist, and the next thing you knew, you were staring down at the wood paneling of Shouto’s floor as it moved underneath you. Shouto adjusted you over his shoulder briefly, and then he was charting a brisk course to his bedroom, depositing you like an errant pillow back onto his sheets.

Your cheeks burned as he crawled over you, gaze hot and searching.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked.

You nodded vehemently, eyes pulled to the little flat sliver of his abs where his shirt had ridden up.

“Good, yeah, I’m so good,” you managed to garble out. You were going to be so embarrassed about this later, but as usual when it came to him, you really couldn’t help it. If you’d learned anything in the year you’d been together, it was that you would always have the world’s fattest crush on Shouto Todoroki.

Strong fingers came up to grasp your chin, tipping your face up for another searing kiss. You managed to loop your bound arms over the back of Shouto’s neck, tangling your fingers in his soft hair and pulling him down to you more firmly.

Shouto flattened himself against you, so that you could feel every strong plane of his body, every hard muscle. You shuddered, and you could feel Shouto smirk against your mouth.

“Like that, do you?” he asked, hands pulling at your shirt. You wiggled so that he could pull it out from under you, sliding it up to rest just below the scarf. In the next second he’d also gotten you out of your pants, so that you were mostly bare to him in the cool apartment air.

Shouto looked you over for a moment, looking like he still couldn’t believe you existed. “Having you over the countertops was something that I wouldn’t change. Something that I won’t change, once you move in.”

Your face went hot and you squirmed underneath him.

“However,” he said softly, “I believe I would have liked to have been more deliberate with you. Taken my time with you,” he paused. “Perhaps...I might have made you come once for every photo of me on your twitter.”

The tips of your ears went hot. Jesus Christ, he couldn’t be serious.

You had deleted that twitter over a year ago, and though he’d apparently been allowed access to the contents by his manager (rude) there was absolutely no way he could remember how many pictures of him you’d retweeted. You’d been the one doing the retweeting, and even you didn’t remember, though you thought the number was probably embarrassingly high.

“There was like, one,” you squeaked out.

Shouto’s smile went dark and he leaned over you, his perfect, infuriating mouth so close he might have kissed you again.

“Thirteen,” he said, mouth brushing yours as he spoke. “There were thirteen photos of me on your twitter. All while you tried so hard to act like you didn’t want me, that you wanted to be just friends.”

“Hey, you said you wanted to be my friend,” you protested. You jerked when his hand slid up your side to cup a breast, thumb slipping under the band of your bra.

“You weren’t accepting my gifts,” he said, fingers grazing your nipple. You bit down on an embarrassing noise, letting out a sharp breath. “How else was I to make you take them?”

You opened your mouth to respond but Shouto made another pass over your nipple, and a moan escaped you instead.

“That’s right, love,” he said encouragingly. “Now I’m going to make you give me something in return. Thirteen somethings, in fact.”

He peeled down the cup of your bra, fastening his hot mouth over your breast. You whined, twitching when he flattened his tongue, dragging it slowly over the point of your nipple. A strong arm came up to press your hands down over your head.

“Shouto, thirteen is insane,” you panted.

He paid you no mind, instead swirling his tongue in a way that made your vision blur.

A tugging at your wrists made you look up, in time to see Shouto one-handedly looping the long end of the scarf through the slats on his headboard and pulling tight. Your whole body clenched up at the implication.

The slide of fabric over your breasts told you that Shouto had also managed to get your bra up, and hot mouth closed over your other nipple, long fingers carefully plucking at the other. “We have all weekend, love. Thirteen is ambitious but quite possible.”

You made a weak noise of acknowledgement, hips shifting forward against his stomach.

Shouto laughed, hot breath ghosting over your breast, and then he was crawling down your torso, hands grasping your underwear. He pulled it down slowly, torturously, until he managed to get it off you, then pulled your knee over his shoulder.

You whimpered, feeling like you might actually pass out from how hot he looked, one thigh thrown carelessly over his shoulder, gaze intent, staring down at you like a starving man looking at a hot meal.

You squirmed, trying to pull your arms down to get your hands on him, but the scarf held fast, pulling more firmly over your wrists.

“Shouto, please,” you said, though whether you were begging for him to touch you or to let you go, even you didn’t know.

Shouto seemed to take it as permission. Those two-toned eyes passed over you hotly, and then he was leaning down, biting down gently on the inside of your thigh. You jerked violently, but he held you in place, mouth trailing slowly, slowly down to where you wanted him.

You thought you might actually black out before he got where he was going.

“I can’t believe I ever told you you were unwelcome in my apartment,” he murmured, sucking a slow bruise into the skin at the crease of your thigh. “Once you move in, I’m never going to let you leave it.”

“Oh my god,” you said.

Shouto’s tongue flicked out, catching the edge of your sex, and you tried not to choke on air.

Then, finally, he moved, fastening his mouth over you, exactly where you wanted him. All reason completely left you.

After that, everything was an unbearable flurry of feeling--a soft tongue swirling over you, the tickle of his bangs on your stomach, the press of broad shoulders between your knees. There was the rasp of his sheets between your shoulder blades, the slow, deliberate press of two fingers inside of you, a firm grip on your thigh, fingers digging in tightly.

You could feel every point of connection with him, every minute movement of his mouth over you, and the sensation built up into something so horribly, terribly good. You were unable to do anything but writhe and pant underneath him, babbling something that sounded like it might be an approximation of his name.

Shouto hummed and sucked softly, those long fingers curling inside you. He finally hit a spot that made you see stars, and you practically lifted off the bed, back bowing. Shouto licked you through it, tongue curling expertly around your clit while you sobbed out his name, only slowing when your body went slack, collapsing back into his sheets.

When you could see straight once more, you realized he was staring up at you, that wry smile curling the corner of his mouth again.

You fought down a blush, feeling an embarrassed grin pull at the corner of your own mouth.

“You’re unreal,” you said. “I can’t believe I’m going to get to have you all the time.”

Shouto pressed a short kiss to the skin of your hip. “You already have me all the time.”

You flapped a hand in its bindings. “You know what I mean. I can’t believe we’re going to live together.”

His fingers slid gently over the back of your thigh. “I’d have had you in here sooner, if you hadn’t insisted on graduating first.”

You laughed. He was always so very straightforward about whatever he wanted.

He had been making very unsubtle noises about living together only a few months into your relationship, but you’d insisted that you wait at least a year. He’d grown up with more conservative mores, having been raised a rich boy, and taking things quickly once he knew he was serious about you seemed to be the style of things. But you, despite your frankly unreasonable thirst for your own boyfriend, knew the value of taking things just a little bit slower.

So you’d waited a year, just to be prudent, though you’d known all along how things would end up.

And now he finally had his way.

“I’m all yours now,” you promised, laughing. “Soon you’ll be sick of me hogging the bed, and leaving books everywhere, and getting so blackout at the farmer’s market that we don’t have room for all the vegetables.”

“Ah, you’re using me for vegetable access,” he accused, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the smile he was attempting to smother into your thigh.

“A girl’s gotta have her priorities,” you grinned.

Something lit up in Shouto’s gaze again, and he shifted up against your thigh to lean over you more fully. His fingers gripped the back of your knee tightly.

“I'll make you pay for that,” he promised darkly. “Twelve more times.”

You shivered as he took your mouth again, fingers sliding back between your thighs with obvious intent.

And then you really did. You paid for it.

Twelve more times.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shouto todoroki #bnha fanfic #bnha #smut #fluff #bnha x reader

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thepriceofbeingaroseisloneliness · 3 years

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Kaoru & Toshiya Rolling Stone Japan 18th May 2021

DIR EN GREY talks about the current unique expression method and fun.

DIR EN GREY has postponed their concert scheduled to be held at Tokyo Garden Theater on May 6th. However, if you read this interview that took place two days before the decision to postpone the live, it's easy to imagine that the band will continue to move forward no matter what.

Using the single "Oboro" released on April 28 as the reason for this interview , we asked leader Kaoru (Gt) and Toshiya (Ba),who makes his first appearance in Rolling Stone Japan, about the current state of the band.

Feel free to correct me if you spot any mistakes or any confusing parts. Links or credits to this post when the content is reposted or captured in other SNS is appreciated : ------------- Original interview: Rolling Stone Japan (includes pictures)

Text: Joe Yokomizo -First of all, please tell us the details of releasing this single at this timing. Kaoru: We've been talking about releasing a single around this time for a long time. But, we were asked by the company to release it sooner (laughs). They told us “Can’t you release it around February?”. But we said we couldn’t record it in such a hurry and pushed the release back (laughs). So, the release was decided at the time it was originally scheduled.

-Is it a song you wrote recently?

Kaoru: We chose it from the ones we had in stock.

-How do you choose a song? Like, is there a discussion among the members? Kaoru: We had a talk about if it’d be good to release a ballad or a melodious song this time. Then, we chose it from the songs we had at that time. Toshiya: That's right. We thought a melodious song or a mellow song would be good, so we chose it from the songs we had in stock. As a result of the discussions we had, we came to the conclusion that “Oboro” was the best choice. I personally thought this song might be able to become a single, but I also thought that it could be a good idea to save it for the album. I thought it could become a song that would be the core of the album even if it was just included in the album. Kaoru: We haven’t released any ballad as a single recently. We did it quite a while ago so we felt like it would be good if we tried it.

-It's true that a ballad as a single is quite fresh for DIR EN GREY, and the arrangements are ... Kaoru: Simple. Pretty simple, but it took us a while to get there. -Do you want to increase the number of notes that are being played at the same time? Kaoru: No. Rather than messing with that, it felt like the notes were gradually confronting each other. There wasn’t a big change, but it took us some time to decide the overall flow, how to do it and the final result. -DIR EN GREY has a strong image as a band that is playing lives often. Until now, you released something and toured, released something, and toured. All over again. The releases haven’t stopped yet but the tours and therefore the lives themselves have stopped because of Corona. How do you feel about the state of the band? Toshiya: Since we couldn’t play lives, I think the part of exploring as a band is big. But personally, at some point, I got over that. The band wants to move, but it’s hard to do it. Even if we think about it, we can’t do anything about the situation so, we haven’t stopped thinking about it, but I think we got over it at some point. Rather, we had no choice but to get over it. -Even if you keep thinking about it, nothing will happen.

Toshiya: That’s right. Even if we just write songs and do the pre-production all the time, if that’s all we are doing, it feels like a pie in the sky all the time. It’s a strange feeling, isn’t it? We didn’t get another answer before but, the process of getting that answer has changed. There was a series of routines like making an album, playing lives, making an album, and doing live performances after that but wasn’t that cut off entirely? Then, we are doing it as usual, but something has changed at some point. And it may just be that kind of era from now on. I think we have no choice but to adapt to this. However, even I think about how it was before, I’m starting to think that it won’t be like that again, and we may just get over it. -Did the production itself change due to the lack of lives? It is often said that a song evolves when it is being playing live, but if you make a song in a situation where it is difficult to imagine playing it live, will the image of the song, how to make it, and the depth of making it change? Kaoru: Even if we are making songs, it feels different from usual. To put it the other way around, as the situation is unique now, maybe it’s a song that can only be done at this moment. But it’s like…. wouldn't it be nice if we could create something interesting? I don't know if we are even thinking about it. I think that the fact that there was always a tour up until now had a big influence. As we always had a tour, until then we’ve limited production time. That's why there was a switch, because now we have infinite time. To be honest, if you take it easy, you’ll space out. After all, it was great to be pushed, force myself into doing it and work hard (laughs). -About making it “the right time” by themselves -Regarding the unlimited production time, how was it for you, Toshiya? Toshiya: I think I'm grateful. However, I want to use it as much as I have. As there were moments I got distracted/ was being lazy, I feel that there are good points and bad points, to be honest. -What's the good thing about this recording? Have you tried something new? Toshiya: After all, in the end time is chasing me (laughs). But this time, I felt that I had a little leeway in my heart. That's why I thought about the single in various ways.Then I wondered if I could release this or that and people would listen to it. It’s common to say this but, when you start thinking about figures, I've even thought about if it's good or bad to release something at this timing. I wondered if it’d be better when this corona situation has settled down a bit more. But well, even if you wait for that time to come, then I would wonder about when that time would come, so in the end, I thought it was unavoidable to think about it. If the right time doesn't come, I think we should make it become the “right time”. Rather than worrying about it, I thought that if such a song was completed and it felt good, we should release it. -It's certainly important to create the right timing. Toshiya: People all over the world are dealing with it now, or more like, we are waiting forever, aren’t we? Personally, I don’t think the situation will return to normal even if we wait. I think it’s more useful to think about how to proceed in a situation like this. I personally came this conclusion, or at least, I’m trying to. -Listening to what you are saying, I remembered Samuel Beckett's play "Waiting for Godot." The two main characters are waiting for Godot, but in fact, no one knows who Mr. Godot is, and I don't know if Godot actually exists. But they are waiting, believing that he will eventually come. Toshiya: Everyone, including myself, is waiting now. But what on earth are you waiting for? If you think about it, it’s like we're just waiting for "that moment”, right? But honestly, I don't think “that” will be back. I think it has changed. Then we have to move towards it. I'm a bit scared to stop waiting any longer, but I think we have to take a step forward. Kaoru: I agree with you. -DIR EN GREY Unique ideas -By the way, the new song "Oboro" is said to be a sequel to a previous song. The lyrics are done by vocalist Kyo but for you two, is it a sequel? Kaoru: I was told that but I wasn’t particularly drawn (by that song). The beats and tempo of the original song of "Oboro" are similar to that song. So maybe he was drawn by that and made the lyrics like this. After hearing that the lyrics would be like that, I've never been aware of it. Toshiya: I wasn't even aware of it at all either. I thought “is this it?”.

-By the way, in Toshiya's words, "Oboro" is a song that can be the core of the next album ... Toshiya: It’s just a song. The talks about the album are making rapid progress but now there are endless possibilities, including how to play the songs live. So, I think it's okay if there are songs that exist just as part of the album, and conversely, there may be songs that are only for playing them live. In other words, from here on, how to add value will become even more important than ever. Kaoru: It's nice to have songs that you can only play live. Toshiya: About that, if you might do that at that time, you might want to play it live? I’m thinking about how to add that value to the song. I want to do a live concert, but we can't, moreover if you even do a concert normally, I’m sure it won’t be interesting. -It looks like broadcasting a regular live is difficult, right? Kaoru: A live that it’s going to be only broadcasted is a bit tough. In that sense, hearing what Toshiya said about songs that only can be played at lives are, in other words, songs that won’t become part of an album are really interesting. Toshiya: I don’t know. I was thinking it to myself and I just said it (laughs). Kaoru: There may be quite a few….songs that are like, “Which one is this?". Moreover, no one mentions those songs in an interview (laughs). Toshiya: Ahahaha. Kaoru: Even among the fans, sometimes it’s like “which song is that one?”, and don’t even know the title. The set list doesn't even have the title of the song. Toshiya: I think it doesn't have to be just the song , but the production. I recently thought about it. In the past there used to be a lot of imaginativeness/ playfulness on the DIR EN GREY’s cds. Recently, I remembered that was pretty normal. But from now on, if we are going to put out the record ourselves, I want to make something that can be enjoyable. On the old DIR EN GREY cds, I remember I was asked to find out where the lyrics were written. When I think about it now, it's quite a prank, but that prank was surprisingly interesting. -How about the leader (laughs)? Kaoru: I put a lot of things into the sound (laughs). -The particularity/commitment in “Oboro” -The “mischievous and eccentric” idea that Toshiya mentioned is swallowed normally before one knows. I think expression itself is a struggle, but in the age of the Internet, the speed at which it is swallowed is accelerating. That’s why, even if that happens, I think it is important to keep fighting, recognizing that "I am not just like this". Kaoru: That's exactly what I do. Because I never thought I have a good taste. Even though I can’t make a song, it feels like I'm doing it just because I have a competitive spirit. -Like you don’t want to be taken into ordinary things, or do you want to do something that has never been seen before? Kaoru: I want to do that, but it takes time. Speaking of gimmicks, in “Oboro” there are a lot of them. -What kind of “gimmicks” are there? Please tell me some. Kaoru: It's not interesting if I told them (laughs). There are many sounds that you can't hear. There are lots of sounds that you can feel. I thought it would be great if you could feel it. And I'm thinking about putting a lot of that into the next album. -There is something I would like to ask about lives. I think we are in a situation where values are conflicting. If you play a live, even among fans there’ll be the conflict of the “Don’t play a live in these circumstances” versus the “Thank you for playing a concert in these circumstances” position. Kaoru: It's difficult, isn't it? Neither of these positions are wrong. However, as a band, we won’t stop. So, if the conditions allow it, the live will go on. I think there are a lot of people who says “"Oh, I'm going to live at a time like this. These people’s views have changed”. But well, I think this is happening in other bands as well. -That’s right. In any band, there is a faction that says to play lives and a faction that wants to stop. How should they come to terms with each other? Kaoru: I don’t think normal life will be back for a while here. If someone says “Yes, it’s nothing in the end”, it may change, but it’s that going to happen? The point is, I think it will be difficult unless the number of infected people goes down. Because Taiwan, where the number of infected people has decreased, there are even festivals taking place. Toshiya: We are choosing a method (against Corona virus) that doesn't work right now, but as it is the government who is doing it, isn’t the situation delicate? I think so. When it comes to what is driving people, I think it’s the number of people getting infected, as Kaoru said. The only way to reduce that number may simply cause damage. If you lock down hard like in the UK, you will suffer tremendous financial damage. I think that's why everyone can get lost on the way. However, although it is extreme, unless you have such a strong will, you will continue to do it subtlety and the number will drop again, “Oh, now it’s ok because the numbers have dropped a little” and then after a while they will surely increase again, won’t them? And then repeat the same process. If that happens, I’m worried the same process will be repeated again and again if you don’t cut it off at some point. Kaoru: Tokyo is under the state of emergency for the third time, but I would like them to stop doing lockdown so suddenly. It’s so hard if there is no warm-up/grace period.

Toshiya: Regarding this state of emergency, I will obey what they say, because I have to obey. But in order to do it, I want something that gives me hope. I feel like suddenly, time was taken from me. -Before the light can be seen, “Oboro” -I want hope. That being said, DIR EN GREY's music always sees light at the end. But in the current situation, we can't see that light. I don't think you can understand the meaning of the lyrics unless you're Kyo, but I'm wondering what "Oboro" means. Like, in this era everything is obscure in an ambiguous sense? Or is it a night with a hazy moon but, you can see the light even faintly because it’s hazy? How do you two interpret it?

*Joe is making a reference to the song title, 朧 (Oboro) means hazy,dim,faint.* Toshiya: If possible, I think I want it to be hazy before you are able to see the light. Before people lose the courage to do their best, being surrounded by fog all the time. - It's true that humans aren't that strong. If there is hope, what is it? What kind of hope are you seeing now? Toshiya: That would be ……the best would be that the Corona situation comes to an end. But before that, I'd like "Oboro" to be released properly. Some CD shops are closed due to a state of emergency, so even if you made a reservation, some people may not be able to get it on the release date. So, I hope that "Oboro" will reach everyone who made a reservation. -Which is Kaoru’s Oboro? Kaoru: I think either of them are interesting. In any situation as well, it’s something that it’s only now. It’s also an expression method that can only be done now. Of course, the band will continue, and I will be writing songs, but I think it would be great if we could express something that can only be done now, or something that is interesting. -Anyway, "Oboro" is an excellent title. Toshiya: When you think about it now, that’s right. It can be interpreted as this uncertain situation, and it can also be interpreted as a situation where a faint light is visible. Kaoru: I want you to listen to it and feel it.

#dir en grey #kaoru #toshiya #translation #toshiyatranslations

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icequeenbae · 3 years

Text

Dior Vernis | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Domestic au, husband!Baekhyun, pregnant!Reader, established relationship (obviously), slight angst, fluff, bits of humor (it’s Baek, y’all)

Rated: G

Warnings: husband!Baek’s so sweet you may need to visit your dentist after this

Word Count: ~1.5k finally

Summary: Baekhyun came home to find his pregnant wife crying. He’s ready to do what it takes to make her happy again. And it’s probably not what you think.

Author’s Note: This is just a cute little something while I work on bigger stories – those are taking forever to get edited… :( Feel free to DM me in case you want to help out with some of it (check out my beta reader post). I was trying something new in terms of structuring this, I hope it’s not too confusing. Anyways, please enjoy and let me know if you’d like more of these!! Thanks baekshoney for taking a quick look!

Baekhyun was incredibly focused.

The task at hand was not something he was used to undertaking, neither had he expected to be in this position tonight, crouched uncomfortably on the living room floor in front of you. He was pretty tired after work, and the stoop was making both his knee and his neck hurt. Not that he was going to say anything about the inconvenience anyway.

It was strangely quiet, seeing that this was your home, always boisterous. Loud with your laughter, your endless chattering, your purposefully bad singing, or even your arguments. But right now, the only sounds reverberating around the room were your residual sniffling and his concentrated breathing. You tried to take a closer look at his hands, quite unsuccessfully since your massive seven-months pregnant belly was in the way.

‘Don’t move,’ he asked, when you shifted slightly.

You nodded, effectively doing that again, so he shot you a dirty look and held you in place by the ankle, to which you muttered something apologetic.

‘Are you trying to make me mess up?’

‘Sorry,’ you mumbled, chewing on your lip to control your impatience.

You better let your husband do this – he definitely took his mission seriously. Of course, there was no way he’d mess up and make you cry the way you were when he came through the door. Simply no way.

Even if he had to crouch and do this for the next hour.

It couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes since he arrived home. At the time, Baekhyun expected you to be happy that he came early to spend some more time together, but instead found you sitting at the edge of the couch, bawling your eyes out.

At the sight of this he felt his heart skip a beat in fear. He very rarely got like this, usually the one to take a step back and look at any issue calmly and with a bit of humor. But now was a special time – you were getting ready to become parents for the very first time – which made him overly cautious and uncharacteristically fussy around you. Hence, while he stood frozen in the doorway, a million scary thoughts went through his panicked mind. His eyes searched your body frantically: there were no visible injuries, no blood, the bump was intact…

‘What’s going on? Y/N?’ He was trying so hard to cover up his terror that he instantly gave himself away by using your name like this. Too serious. ‘Are you hurt?’

He reached you in a second, kneeling in front of you and touching your wrists as you covered your face while crying.

‘Baby, tell me what’s wrong,’ he almost pleaded.

He wanted to help but had no idea what was happening. You looked fine from what he could tell and the TV was off, so it definitely wasn’t due to any tragic plot twist in your favorite series. Your shoulders shook with more sobs and he shifted his palms to rub them in calming motions. There was an unusual lump in his throat. He could barely stand seeing you, his partner and future mother of his child, like this. Sure, these past few months of your regular hormonal crying taught him some resolve, but that dreadful time was over weeks ago. He’d never even seen you this discomposed before, so the reasoning behind your state was to be determined as soon as possible.

‘Hey,’ he tried again, putting his gentle palm on your belly absentmindedly. ‘I need to know if you’re hurt, babe, so that I can help. Do you need me to call someone?’

You shook your head no, and he nodded to himself.

‘Okay. Why don’t you breathe with me for a second?’

With you getting upset during a good portion of your early pregnancy, Baekhyun had to train himself at the art of figuring out the reason and calming you down to talk about it. Breathing exercises seemed quite helpful whenever he could get through to you, and this was one of those cases. You must’ve been crying for a bit, since before he arrived even. That thought made his heart clench.

‘Breathe in with me, like this,’ he took a deep breath through his nose, ‘And exhale from your mouth.’

He guided you by example, and you subconsciously followed the suggested pattern.

A couple minutes later, your sobs were reduced to sniffling, and you lowered your palms enough for Baekhyun to see your red, watery eyes.

‘Aw sweetheart,’ he bemoaned, carefully investigating your blotched face.

He took his time wiping the tears off your cheeks while you sat there with your sweater paw pressed to your runny nose.

His touch was always so comforting in times like this. There was nothing like it. And everything about your husband gave you a sense of tranquility and security when he was near. Even Baekhyun’s breathing was doing its part in relaxing you.

He allowed you to bask in his affection, stroking your arm lingeringly and tracing the remaining wet trails on your cheeks with his fingertips. As your breathing slowly came back to normal, he could finally pay attention to the surroundings. There was a small colorful item on the floor that he’d noticed only now. Curious, he picked it up and read the label.

‘Dior Ver- vernis? Is this nail polish?’ He asked in confusion and received a feeble nod from you.

Baekhyun could barely place this item in ‘the big picture’, so he tried asking you again.

‘So… Can you tell me what happened?’

You looked away, avoiding his eyes. He examined your face and was mystified by the embarrassed look that appeared on it out of the blue.

‘Y/N?’

‘It’s- I think it’s hormones again,’ you croaked and looked away.

While this was an excellent excuse, he’d known you well enough to understand that it was one.

‘Tell me everything, honey. What got you upset?’

His palm went back to caressing your baby bump, and you instantly felt loved and cherished from the simple action. Your fidgety fingers lowered to play with his.

‘It’s- nothing serious,’ you confessed. ‘I just- my feet got hideously swollen today… And I had a pedicure appointment. Had to cancel.’

Baekhyun nodded, still unsure of what exactly caused this outburst. Your feet tended to get swollen often these days, this wasn’t news to either one of you, and it was fine, your doctor had said. It couldn’t have been some randomly cancelled appointment that got you in tears, right? Or could it?

‘I- tried doing it myself,’ you continued reluctantly, noticing his puzzlement. ‘But it’s impossible. I can’t even see anything because- because I’m so huge,’ you stifled a sob. ‘And swollen, and clumsy, and-’

‘And beautiful,’ Baekhyun interrupted your rant that was headed the wrong way already.

He could see it now. This was definitely hormone infused but there was also something else underneath. Your husband hummed, a playful expression creeping up his face.

‘Why would this upset you though? You’re only ‘huge’ because you’re carrying our healthy boy,’ Baekhyun’s tone was thick with fondness as he said that. ‘He’s going to be a big one. At this rate I’m willing to bet that he’s going to be taller than Chanyeol. All thanks to his miracle mother.’

You snorted a laugh at his non-scientific statement, finding his warm palm on your stomach. He just loved touching it at all times.

‘What if it’s a girl?’ You whispered, and your husband gasped, now pressing both hands to your belly protectively.

‘Why would you say that! She’d be a model then, and I don’t want my little girl to be one. She’s mine to look at and cherish,’ he pretend grumbled before adding a softer, ‘Just like you.’

Nudging his shoulder timidly, you giggled and bit your lip to contain your bashful smile.

‘Hm, you know what?’ He clicked his tongue, looking like he’d had a revelation. ‘I’m sure pedicure isn’t rocket science; I can do it.’

You barely reacted as he swiftly took the fluffy slipper off your right foot and rested it over his knee.

‘No!’ You tried to retract the limb but he held you by the ankle. In any case, you were way too lumpish to do it gracefully.

‘Oh, come on! You think this can scare me? Those are just feet, Y/N,’ he scolded and looked down, almost jumping. ‘Holy mother of-!’

You squirmed and hid your eyes in your sleeve as he proceeded to laugh at your reaction.

‘I’m kidding, I’m kidding!’ He said in an amicable tone before continuing, ‘I’m sure I can find your toenails in there, somewhere.’

You whined at this and shoved your mischievous husband in the side with the ball of your foot.

‘Alright, alright, calm down. I’m going to put this exquisite shade of pink onto them as neatly as I can. But you have to promise me that you won’t cry if I mess up!’

‘Don’t you dare mess up. Or else you’ll have to make it up to me with three hundred foot rubs,’ you groused, sniffing again to keep your nose from running.

‘Got it. Phew, glad you won’t be able to see it up close anyways,’ he smirked, expertly shaking the nail polish in preparation.

‘Baekhyun!’ You reproached for his shamelessness.

Your husband let out a cheeky laugh and announced:

‘My foot’s falling asleep, so let’s do this!’

He was fully concentrated on your pedicure after that.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I was blown away by the feedback I received for the Duality of Baekhyunie, so I wanted to keep you entertained while I’m working on the sequel and other stuff. I hope you weren’t disappointed ❤

P.S. Tell me in the comments how fast you realized that it’s all about nail polish 😂

#baekhyun fics #baekhyun x reader #icequeenbae fics #exowritersnet #husband!Baekhyun #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun oneshot #baekhyun #exo fanfiction #baekhyun fluff #exowriter #icequeenbae #pregnant!reader #slice of life

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blouisparadise · 3 years

Photo

We realized it’s been a while since our first canon rec list came out, so we decided to create a second part to it! We hope you enjoy these fics. If you enjoy BLP making rec lists, please be sure to reblog this post to spread the word. Happy reading!

1) That Summer Feeling | Explicit | 2093 words

"It was still a lazy summer evening, the sun was still floating in the sky and the balcony window was letting in a warm breeze. Harry thumbed at Louis’ hipbone, easing his lips off Louis’ skin just to mumble “Turn over, darling.” Louis cracked a small smile, turning over slowly and revealing the back half of his naked body. Harry’s tongue felt too big for his mouth. He swallowed as he took in the sight. He’d never get tired of this."

Louis tries to quit smoking, but none of his methods work. Harry comes up with a new idea that involves lots of sucking.

3) Spirit Meets The Bones | Explicit | 3220 words

The action shouldn’t fill his eyes with tears but it does. These small gestures mean the world to him. A steady reminder that Harry does notice all the tiny, seemingly insignificant details that make Louis him.

4) Blue Eyes, Black Jeans, Lighters, Candy | Explicit | 3629 words | Sequel

Harry is in Madrid and Louis had a hard week.

5) This Is Where I Sleep | Explicit | 3678 words

Harry and Louis go camping while on break and make some memories.

6) A Touch of Your Love | Explicit | 3856 words

Harry needs to work out. Louis wants him to pay attention to him. They find a compromise.

7) We’ve Got A Vicious Streak | Explicit | 4073 words

In the aftermath of 1DDay, Harry finds a way to help Louis relax.

8) The Sound Of Silence | Explicit | 4272 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Early the next morning, Louis had been scrolling through Twitter when he first saw the wild conspiracy.

“What if the person in the VIP box is actually Xander?”

Louis had almost choked on his coffee. Xander? Of all the people Harry had been connected to over the last few years, this person was speculating Harry was secretly in love with Xander Ritz?

9) Cherries In The Snow | Mature | 5151 words

It’s Valentine’s Day, and Harry is not in the mood. So naturally, Louis lets Harry paint his body with kiss marks to make him feel better.

10) At The End Of My Rope | Mature | 5608 words

The one where they go to Crete and Harry is definitely hiding something.

11) Just Stop Your Crying (It's a Sign of the Times) | Explicit | 5864 words

My own imagining of the inspiration for Sign of the Times. Featuring boys in love, even after all this time.

12) Maybe My Heart’s Numb | Mature | 6007 words

"Lou."

He breathes in sharply and turns to his right, the source of the voice just having sat down. "Yeah?" he asks softly, trying to get his voice to come out as evenly as possible.

Harry stares at him with an unreadable look on his face, then looks down. Louis' gaze follows.

Oh.

Harry's holding his right hand, a completely burnt out cigarette lying underneath it.

13) Singing Your Praises | Explicit | 6226 words

Prompt 86: Louis rides Harry while wearing his packer’s jersey/sweater and gets his ass ate.

14) The Window To The Soul | Explicit | 6925 words

Harry comes off stage at iHeart 2017 and really needs a bit of physical affection.

15) PDA: Public Displays of Arousal | Mature | 7281 words

"He soon ventured out on a relaxing stroll along the damp shore, pouting down at the very dainty size of the footprints he made in the wet sand. He could already picture Harry making a large footprint right next to it just to coo at their very distinct size difference, and Louis didn’t know whether to grin or grimace. He looked up from the ground to observe the colorful assortment of tents and umbrellas from the people scattered along the sand, and the people themselves were-

Well, they were all naked."

16) Cease The Day | Explicit | 8195 words

In which 1D Day takes on a whole new meaning.

Instead of a seven hour livestream, the One Direction team deem it more profitable to offer an entire day spent with any one member of the band for the highest bidder. What happens when the same buyer wins both Louis and Harry for a day?

17) Little White Lies | Explicit | 10450 words

Louis makes an off hand comment in an interview then comes home to find Harry has laid his old braces out on their bed.

18) Tomorrow You Won’t Be Mine | Explicit | 13592 words

Louis and Harry were larry, until they broke up and weren’t. Years into the hiatus Louis finds himself in Philadelphia for a music festival, completely unaware that Harry has a show that night there too until fans start to freak out online. Louis has things to get off of his chest about their break up all those years ago and turns up to Harry’s concert without notice, leaving Harry in complete shock. Feelings overwhelm them both, leading to a night where they realise just how much they missed eachother...

19) With the Certainty Of Tides | Mature | 13980 words

“Love you,” Louis whispered in the dark. He didn’t know what time it was or where the light had gone, he knew that he was in Harry’s arms, basking in the afterglow of all their love and he’d be a fool to not tell Harry that. As if Harry didn’t know.

“Love you,” was whispered back, as if Louis didn’t know. They confessed to each other as if it was their first time saying it, raw and painful, and listened to it the very same way, but they knew those words to be the only ones true.

With all the certainty of the tides, with all the light from the sun, with all the steady beats of their hearts, they were deftly in love, in secret and so loudly. They were brave and fearless and strong and hopelessly devoted in every sense of their breaths.

“We made it, baby,” Harry mumbled, bringing their lips into a final kiss, sweet and soft and the color of pink. They already knew that, didn’t fight tooth and nail and argued through every petty year and bleed their hearts into the words they sang and on their skin for them to have not made it home.

They were home.

20) Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) | Not Rated | 16683 words

The one where Harry wants a little more in the bedroom and has a habit of putting his foot in his mouth.

21) Oblivious | Explicit | 19096 words

Where Louis gets a little crush on Luke and for some reason Harry starts acting weird.

22) Late Night Devil (Put Your Hands On Me) | Explicit | 20086 words

Harry Styles has always put up with him. With every snip of attitude, every idiotic act of stubbornness, every harsh and sour word. Each time Louis thinks he's stepped too far, clung too tight, bitten too hard, Harry is there to forgive him, to protect him, to hold him. Maybe he was naive to think that, no matter how hard he pushed, Harry would never move.

Maybe he should have seen it coming.

23) England Has My Bones | Explicit | 24087 words

The next time Harry thinks about calling, it’s 4.14 in the morning on a Parisian hotel balcony.

24) Pink In The Night | Explicit | 32324 words

His finger was tapping on Louis’ chat before Harry could even think about it, eyes reading over the last text he’d sent Louis. I miss you. Do you miss me?

Harry had felt so pathetic that December night, alone in the dark room of the Japanese apartment he’d been staying at, the strong smell of alcohol clinging to his clothes.

Louis hadn’t replied, but Harry wasn’t surprised; he had texted Louis a few times before while he’d been away, but there had never been a response.

It pained him to admit that this was their new normal.

25) What’s Mine Is Yours To Make Your Own | Mature | 39919 words

Sometimes, the closest Harry ever feels to home is Louis. It’s their shared hotel rooms on tour, their shoes toed off in the doorway next to each other, jackets hung on the same post. It’s everything he doesn’t notice until it’s been taken away from him.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#fic recs #larry #bottom louis #top harry #canon #blp fic recs #blp

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blessedboo · 4 years

Text

Need [Pipe Down #2] | Oscar Diaz.

Oscar Diaz x Reader

Summary: You were supposed to get out of your post-breakup blues, but a certain someone clouded your mind all day. You decided to do something about it.

Requested: Yes (Thank you, my loves!)

Warnings: Cursing. Angst to fluff - fluff to smut (18+ Content) and then some more fluff.

Word Count: 4.6K

A/N: The reactions to Pipe Down were incredible. Y’all are so supportive, and fucking hilarious as well. This is my first time writing smut, so I apologize if it’s not that great; feedback is always appreciated. I hope you enjoy reading this sequel, it’s dedicated to all of you. Love ya!

You and Izzy were walking arm in arm back to her car, chatting, laughing. Times like these made you feel grateful to have her in your life, someone you could always count on to be there for you and lift your spirits. Honestly, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself without your homegirl.

The laughter died down as you both sighed and continued walking in comfortable silence. You felt her eyes on you as she turned her head to face yours. She waited a few seconds before saying something, almost as if she was trying to read your thoughts.

“Alright, love. Be real with me now, are you sure you’re okay?”

You turned to face her and gave her a reassuring smile. “Of course, why?”

“You just seemed a little off back there. You’re usually downing mimosas with me by the minute, but instead you were staring off into space.” She paused for a second after saying that, abruptly stopping both of you in your tracks.

Her eyes widened as she side-eyed you, “Shiiit, you aren’t pregnant, are you?”

Your jaw dropped for a moment, shortly turning into a laugh as your head tipped back, shocked by her assumption.

“Girl, no. I do not have a baby in me. And if I did, trust me, you’d be the first one to know.”

“Well, my bad then,” she giggled.

After eventually getting in the car, Izzy thought it’d be nice to put the roof down, convertible style. Today’s light breeze and warm sun did you favors as your skin glowed and your hair flowed. You raised your arm up in the air, the brisk wind gently dancing around it as you jammed out to Brent Faiyaz, H.E.R and other R&B favorites.

You and Izzy sang simultaneously, screeching at the top of your lungs when it came to those high notes. It didn’t matter if it was good, it was a vibe.

Soon enough, the car began to approach your neighborhood. Izzy turned to you, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.

“Wellll, where am I dropping you off to?”

”Where else? Home, babes,” you let out a small laugh and nudged her elbow for asking you that question.

“Mm, I know. But which one? Yours or your baby daddy’s?” She bit her lip and winked at you. “If you get what I mean ...”

Izzy knowingly wiggled her brows up and down, tongue in cheek. Your brows furrowed slightly as you shook your head at her, unsure of what she was implying.

It took you a good three seconds but Izzy knew you got the message when your eyes widened, rolling to the back of your head. She cheekily snickered at you as you did.

You gave her an unamused look and pinched the bridge of your nose, realizing she was referring to Oscar. And not just ‘Oscar,’ she referred to him as your “baby daddy”. Oh please, as if you’d ever let his fine ass him knock you up.

Would I?

You knew she was only teasing, but what she said started getting to you. It made you overthink and you didn’t like it.

“You know damn well he is not my baby daddy, nor will he ever be. We’re over, Iz - we have been for two weeks, you know that.”

She kissed her teeth and raised an eyebrow at you, dismissing your comment, or what she knew as your lies. She always saw right through you, you couldn’t fake anything with her even if you tried.

“Bitch,” she retorted with an annoyed inflection in her tone, “you can’t fool me. I put two and two together when I saw how you acted at brunch. No wonder, Spooky got you all in your feelings, and I’m sure it has something to do with whatever happened between you two this morning.”

“I-“

You were immediately cut off by her. Yeah, she definitely wasn’t done scolding you.

“You’re lucky I saved your ass from saying something stupid.”

You had a mini-flashback to the moment you and Oscar shared right before she picked you up. You remembered how vulnerable you got in his arms, ready to spill all the pain you’d been feeling. You didn’t notice you started to slouch, or the frown that appeared on your face just then. But Izzy did.

She looked away to gather her thoughts before turning back to you, lips pulled to one side as she gave you an empathetic look. She grabbed your hand and clasped her fingers over it to comfort you.

“You miss him, huh?”

You couldn’t lie to her or yourself anymore. You sighed, “I’m angry at him. I’m upset with him—“

“But ...” Izzy added.

“—But I do miss him.” You groaned as you tipped your head back into the seat. You really missed him, and that longing feeling to be close to Oscar again was eating you up inside.

Longing for him to eat me up instead.

“Told ya,” Izzy smirked triumphantly, you scowled back at her in return.

“Not now, dumb ass.”

She chuckled before continuing the drive to your block.

—

“Alright, we’re here.”

The rest of the drive was silent, so deep in your daydream that you completely shut yourself off from your surroundings.

You looked at the house she parked at, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Iz, you’re a good couple of houses away from mine. We aren’t even on the right side of the street, this is Osca-“

You blinked once.

Twice.

Thrice.

“Izzy.”

She was looking down to avoid eye contact, but still smiling ever so mischievously.

“Okay, don’t be mad, but—“

“IZ-“

“—BUT! I really think you should talk to him. You clearly aren’t over him, he probably isn’t over you. Both of you should stop being so stubborn, keep pride out of this, and have yourselves some bomb ass makeup sex.”

You whipped your head towards her, eyes bulging at the last remark.

“What? No sex? That’s cool too, that’s cool too. Maybe that’s just me then.”

You tried your best to stay annoyed at her, but you couldn’t help it. Your lips pulled into a smile as you admired your best friend. You let out a small chuckle before undoing your seat belt.

“I hate you.”

She grinned, “I know, I love you too.”

Izzy pulled you into a hug before you opened the car door and got out. You walked around, but she called out from behind as soon as you approached the lawn.

“Hey, wait!”

You spun your head around to look at her, forehead wrinkled as a questioning gesture.

“Go get ‘em, tiger!” She exclaimed as she pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth, closed her fists, and did a back-and-forth pumping gesture with both arms at her sides to signal fucking.

Cheeks turning red, you palmed your face embarrassedly, “Oh God, please stop.”

Man, you really loved her.

You waved her off as she laughed, hurriedly making your way to Oscar’s front door before anyone saw that atrocity.

Here you were again for the second time today. Damn, he got you fucked up.

All that readiness you had a minute ago washed away, now being encompassed by anxiousness and self-doubt. Great, your favorite duo of terror.

Am I being too desperate?

This is a bad idea.

No, I love him. Just do it, coward.

At last, you raised your hand to the dreaded large plank of wood you stood in front of. “It’s now or never.”

One knock. Two knocks. And a third.

He’s fucking that blonde chick.

Abort mission.

Mayday! Mayda-

“Y/N ... Back so soon?” A shirtless Oscar leaned up against the doorframe, bright-eyed and flashing that sexy smirk.

In any other instance, you’d retort with a witty remark, fire back with some sass.

But this wasn’t any other instance.

You were hurting, and you were tired. You were tired of the lonely nights, tired of these mind games, tired of bottling it all up. Oscar took notice of your silence and the blank, but sad, expression on your face. He sensed something was wrong. He knew because he felt that way too. Regretting what he said, his features softened. His eyes drooped whilst muscles relaxed as he reached his arms out to you.

There were a million reasons to turn back around and run for the hills. Could you trust him not to break your heart again? Could you guarantee that everything will work out from that point on?

The truth is, you didn’t know.

But if there was anything you did know, it’s that if you ran now, you may never get this chance again.

You were hesitant, but you stepped forward and gently placed a hand on his upper arm; a silent invite for him to embrace you. The corner of his lips curved into a small, sad smile. Neither of you had to speak to be able to empathize with each other. You felt each other’s everything.

Pain. Frustration. Happiness. And everything in between.

That was the beauty of your relationship.

He lead you inside before wrapping his strong arms around you, pulling you into a tight, but tender, hug. The warmth of his bare body engulfed your entire being. Your hands followed suit as you moved them under his arms and clasped them onto each shoulder, your face tilted to fit like a puzzle piece in the crook of his tattooed neck.

You basked in each other’s silence as the comfort washed over you. It was dead-quiet in the house, and all you could hear were Oscar’s gentle breaths as he inhaled and exhaled on the tops of your cheeks. Along with the soft thumping of his heartbeat as he relaxed into you more and more as the moment went by.

As much as you appreciated the embrace, there were still probing thoughts that lingered in the back of your mind. You had questions and you needed answers.

“Oscar?”

“Hm?”

“Couch.”

“Okay.”

Removing yourselves from each other, you made your way into his living room. You sat side-by-side, not as close as a few seconds ago, but close enough to reach out for him just in case you needed to beat his ass.

You took a deep breath in before letting out a sigh that sounded like it was hidden in the depths of your body.

“You told me you were too busy to be with me. That you needed space. That it wasn’t the best time to be in a relationship, and that we weren’t right for each other anyway. Too different.”

“I know, I-“

“But earlier you tell me you miss me. A lot, might I add. How do you think that makes me feel? That’s frustrating and confusing as fuck, Oscar!”

“Y/N, I know. I fucked up. I fucked up big time. I knew I fucked up on that first night I spent without you. I was wrong, so goddamn wrong, and I hated myself for it.”

“So then why say it? Why, Oscar? We were doing so well, and then you drop the breakup bomb out of nowhere. And if you regretted it so much, why not talk to me the day after instead of ignoring me?”

“Because—“ He paused as he looked away. His open, expressive hands closing into a fist as he rubbed his thumb against the side of his index finger. This was a habit of his whenever he was anxious, annoyed, or anything of the sort. His nostrils flared as his eyebrows knitted together, lips curving downwards into a frown. You watched his actions intently, the battle he had with himself, his internal conflict, playing out in front of your eyes.

He sighed, “because I knew you’d be better off without me - in more ways than one. I’m a liability, nena. I bring more harm than good, to you and to Cesar.”

“—And with all that shit that went down with Cuchillos, I didn’t want you standing in the middle of the crossfire. I couldn’t risk anything happening to you, so I pushed you away. So yes, I did need my space to handle my shit without you, and yes, I was too busy … too busy to give you the attention we both needed. But I never stopped loving you, I just wanted to protect you.”

Oscar’s breathing was heavy as he closed his eyes, lids tucking in tightly after the release of this built-up resentment.

My baby was protecting me, and he was hurting in the process.

Lightning struck you at the center of your heart and made it shatter into a million broken fragments. Or at least that’s what it felt like. You ached for him. You always did knowing the life he was living, but now more than ever. Your eyes welled up with tears, your head dropping down.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I know it doesn’t fix what I did, but I pro-“

You cut him off by clasping one hand over his nape, and another on the side of his face as you pulled him into a soft, sweet kiss. You didn’t do it out of pity. You didn’t do it to shut him up. You did it to reassure him, to calm his mind, to ease his blessed heart.

Prior to the two weeks of isolation, you were Oscar’s peace, and he yours. In a time he needed it most, he lost his peace, his only form of solace.

To say you felt bad was an understatement.

Your plump lips danced against his own. It was a tango of love and war. Longing, yet laced in suffering. The kiss was slow and sensual as the two lovers rekindled the flame that never truly died out. Beneath all that tenderness, both of your lips still fought for dominance.

To claim the upper hand, he grabbed onto your waist and propped you onto his lap. With the close proximity of your rhythmically moving bodies, you inhaled deeply as the aroma of beer, cologne and cigarettes tickled your nose. The smell was intoxicating, pure bliss, and only he could pull it off.

There were other things only he could pull off, like my clothes perhaps.

You could sense Oscar’s patience quickly dissipating with each taste of your soft, moist kisses. He couldn’t get enough of them, and two weeks away from them were two weeks too long. He lolled helplessly with his eyes clenched shut, in a trance of tongue.

As the kiss got more heated, a sweet moan erupted from your throat. You were soaking up every ounce of loving he was giving you, hypnotized by the way he held you, felt you, caressed you. Oscar smiled against your lips as a result, bringing his hand up to the back of your head as his fingers tangled and intertwined with your locks to deepen his motions.

You started to feel overwhelmed—in the best way possible—but he was, quite literally, taking your breath away. You unlatched your lips from his, both of you gasping for air simultaneously. You stared into each other’s eyes that glistened with lust and adoration. From the way you two were moving, you would’ve thought you had been away from each other for months. But that only seemed to prove the immense need and want for one another.

You stared at his now swollen, red, wet lips and giggled. He joined, chuckling as he saw your own, clearly enthusiastic at what he’d done to you. As he did, he brought a thumb up to wipe over your tear-stained cheeks.

“So ... does that mean I’m forgiven?” He asked sporting a cheeky, lopsided grin.

You licked your lips as you sat up on your knees, his thigh in between your legs whilst towering over him. Mindlessly, he ran his hands up your waist and down your hips, groping your thighs here and there ever so slightly.

“Hm,” you bit your fingernail pensively. Your eyes darkened with mischief as you thought of other ways he’d be able to make it up to you. You glared at him, biting your lip, “how badly do you miss me, baby?”

He smirked at your sudden burst of sexual prowess. “Badly, mamí.”

“Mm, what are you willing to do?”

“Anything.”

“Prove it. Prove that you missed me.” You coaxed, lust and desire laced your soft spoken voice.

And that was all he needed for him to unzip your shorts at a tantalizing pace, never breaking eye contact with you as he did. Maybe you deserved a little bit of teasing for the petty ‘mission’ you pulled earlier. You shimmied out of them impatiently, and he laughed at your attempt to hurry.

“What are you in a rush for, mamas? I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you,” he reassured you as he cupped your face before placing a small, chaste kiss on your lips.

You sighed, nodding your head. Your body relaxed as you lowered yourself onto his lap again.

“You’re right. Do your thing, my love.”

He pecked your cheek, your nose, the corner of your mouth and peppered light kisses along your jawline. You loved how romantic he was before devouring you or fucking you senseless - such a deliciously dynamic man.

He lifted your chin up to tilt your head back, giving him more access to the soft skin of your neck. Needless to say, you weren’t expecting his lips to brush up against the sensitive area below your ear as he licked you with a long, single swipe of his tongue.

Goodbye, Mr. Romantic and hello, Daddy.

He nipped and sucked, and nipped and sucked. Hot, open-mouthed kisses trailing all around your neck and down to your collarbone as one hand was wrapped gently, yet firmly, around your throat, right under your chin to hold it up. Your breaths were shaky, light moans rolled off your lips naturally, and a very apparent pool formed in your black lace panties.

Oscar unwrapped the knot of your top, letting the sleeves fall down your arms. His fingers slid on your smooth skin as he took it off completely.

“Damn, baby,” he whispered as he wishfully gazed at your breasts, passion shadowing over him. You placed your hands on his chest, nails lightly scratching the bare skin as you dragged them down. His lips parted in response, his excited heartbeats could be felt under your fingertips. From the heavy breathing to the glossy beads of sweat that glistened on his tanned skin, the atmosphere of the room got dense - air heavy, sexual tension thick.

With an expert flick of his fingers, your bra was on the floor in a matter of seconds. Oscar’s big hands were on your waist and back, ensuring there was no way to escape. Not that you wanted to be anywhere else anyway.

He wasted no time latching onto your right nipple, cupping your plump assets as he groped and squeezed teasingly. His tongue danced fluently over the swell of your breast, evoking a porn-worthy moan that reverberated against the four walls of the small room. The wet sensation combined with the tantalizingly sensual circular motions were heavenly.

“Oh God,” you whimpered breathlessly. Though, it would be best if you kept God out of your sexual endeavours.

Oscar didn’t forget about your left nipple as he alternated between pinching, tugging and rolling it in between his index and thumb. He brought his hand to his mouth, licking his two digits and then continuing his actions.

How considerate of him, you thought. He wanted to give both of your eager breasts the same type of attention, cute.

As you ground your hips against his thigh, subtly getting off from the pressure hitting your core, he felt the moistness that started to coat the thin fabric and your inner thighs. Your nipple left the warmth of his mouth and was now encompassed by the cool air. You shivered at the new sensation, instantly missing the feel of his lips as you pouted.

Smirking, he looked down, catching you in the act of your mini joyride.

“Naughty.”

You giggled, “Maybe a little.”

He hummed amusingly before gently pushing your chest backwards so that you could lay down flat on the couch. He crawled to hover over you, letting out a groan as he bit his lip and took in your current state. The woman he cherished was sprawled half-naked on the couch, swollen breasts rising up and down, looking up at him with big love-hazed eyes and plump pouty lips as you waited for him to please you.

In his eyes, it was the most angelic sight. You loved the way he looked at you as if you were the center of his universe. You smiled at him, following with a wink.

His face inched closer to yours as he gave you a sweet kiss before planting many of them on a trail from your neck, to the valley in between your breasts, and finally to the awaited destination.

He looked up at you through his gorgeous, long lashes. He kept that hungry glare pointed on you as he hooked his fingers into your waistband, dragging them down swiftly. Your stomach fluttered in anticipation. If it was even possible, your arousal got more wet at the thought of his mouth on your pussy. You wanted him so bad, it was painful.

“Please,” you pleaded. “I need you.”

That breathy whimper set him off. He didn't bother teasing the surrounding area as usual. He was starving, and he was gon’ feast like his life depended on it.

As he lowered himself, the cold metal of his cross grazed your lips. You jumped at the stinging chill, a sensation that amplified tenfold due to the already aching area.

He ran two fingers up and down your soaking slit, spreading the two lips, then rubbing them closer together, and repeating. As his fingers occasionally brushed along your swollen clit, your thighs would involuntarily clench at the sensitivity. He followed your body’s requests by rubbing the bud in gentle circles, applying just enough pressure to stimulate you. He would press down on it every now and then, which would really get you going.

At this point, you were already a whimpering mess for him and he loved it.

“You want more, nena?”

Unable to comprehend any words, you simply nodded. Now tugging and rolling at your throbbing bundle of nerves, “No no, I want you to tell me. Let me hear that voice.”

“Yes,” you whispered, “… M-more,” was all you managed to get out in a broken moan.

Oscar gripped your thighs as he dropped his head down to your core. You were immediately met with a long lick that flattened against your entrance, from bottom to top. You gasped at the moist feeling of his velvet tongue combined with the warm breaths that lingered on your skin.

He spread your legs wider and pushed your thighs back, allowing more access for him to hit all the right spots. His lips smothered your pussy with sloppy, deep kisses.

He was french-kissing the fuck out of your core, and your endless cries only encouraged him to keep going.

His tongue curled up to flick your clit rapidly before easing your pleasure with soft circular motions. Not wanting to lose his rhythm, he closed in on your pearl, sucking on it tenderly as his fingers wandered in between your folds.

“Oh Daddy… Fuck yeah,” you hissed.

“Mm, you like that?” He groaned.

“Yes! Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” were only some of the obscenities that rolled off your tongue.

Well, his tongue was doing most of the rolling.

Your pussy was throbbing, aching for release. Breathless, you propped yourself up on one arm to get a glimpse of the action. Your fluids flowed out of you - it was ‘The Y/N River’ down there. They coated your walls, Oscar’s beard and definitely drenched the couch material under you.

But he didn’t mind one bit. In fact, it drove him wild. He lapped up your juices in quick, yet deliberate, movements of his tongue.

Feeling him do it was pleasurable enough, but watching his determination play out on your sex was a whole new level of sexy, and eventually brought you closer to release. Your back arched, your hips bucked and you were a moaning disaster.

“Fuck! Fuuuck! Baby … I- … Ah, shit! … I’m g-gonna come. Just like that, yes. Yes!”

Your orgasm was bubbling at the pit of your stomach. You were so close.

“Fuck. Come. Come for me, mamí.”

His mouth attacked your pussy greedily, fingers doing quick work of rubbing your folds in ‘figure eights’. He used two of his digits to spread your folds as he tongue-fucked you. One of your hands held onto the back of his scalp, while the nails of the other dug into his broad shoulder so deeply you were scared to puncture skin.

Him egging you on and praising you nonstop was the last straw. He grumbled against your soaked core as your thighs clenched together. His name left your lips in a cry, over and over.

Like a chant, or more so a prayer.

You shook and shuddered uncontrollably during your throes of passion, your back landing onto the couch from the euphoric exhaustion. Your head tipped back in ecstasy as he cupped your core gently, hushing you into a state of ease.

Your breaths became less heavy as seconds passed by. You sighed before slightly turning your head upwards, only to catch your man staring at you intently. A big ol’ cheesy grin plastered on his gorgeous face.

“Beautiful,” he hummed.

You shook your head, laughing at his cuteness.

When your legs somewhat regained their strength, you sat up and clung onto his torso. The both of you laid back upright on the couch. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder to bring you closer. Placing a hand on his chest, the beats of his heart drummed for you.

You smiled, and as if you communicated telepathically, you both looked at each other like lovestruck puppies.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Oscar.”

“Pase lo que pase?”

“Pase lo que pase.”

You cupped his cheek as your two lips connected. A sweet kiss to seal the deal.

“So what are we going to do about this?” He asked, gesturing towards the obvious tent in his pants. You rolled your eyes, not being able to resist a small laugh. “You always have to ruin the mood, hm?”

“What? I’ve got needs too, Y/N.”

“Nuh-uh, I’m not letting you get off that easy. You’ve gotta work for it.” If looks could kill; he death-stared you down as his brows knitted together. “Eating you out ain’t enough?”

“Oh baby, no. That makes up for at least a week's worth. Cook me breakfast tomorrow, and you’ll be on the right path.”

He squinted at you unamusedly, along with slightly flared nostrils and lips pulled a straight line. “Seriously?”

“Very serious,” you raised your brow at him, sporting a cheeky smirk.

He groaned while running a palm over his face, an eye roll on display right after. “Fine. So spoilt.”

“Keep that attitude up, boy. I’ll have you sleeping on the couch too.”

He scoffed as his forehead wrinkled in disbelief. He bit down on his bottom lip as he shook his head at you. It wasn’t long before he was towering over you, grabbing you by the waist and lifting you over his shoulder - ass out, facing skyward.

You gasped before squealing as you smacked your hands against his back.

“What are you doing?! Let me down!”

“Nah. I make you come, and all of a sudden you’re bossing me around in my own house,” he retorted while sending a nice slap against your ass. “Must be out yo’ damn mind.”

Your bickering continued all the way into the bedroom. It was an evening of love and laughter, and there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

____________________________________________

Spanish translations - [Correct me if I’m wrong]

Pase lo que pase - No matter what / Whatever happens

#oscar diaz #spooky diaz #oscar diaz x reader #spooky diaz x reader #oscar diaz imagine #spooky diaz imagine #on my block #omb #omb imagine #omb fanfic #oscar diaz fanfic #julio macias #x reader #x black!reader #x poc!reader #spooky diaz smut #oscar diaz smut

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westwingwolf · 3 years

Text

Title: Single Line Chapter 2

Archive: AO3

Summary: Will Sergeant Grey's prepared relationship paperwork for Tim & Lucy finally prove necessary?

Notes: Y'all asked for a sequel; and not long after posting the first part, I did happen to have an idea for a continuation.

"Chen!"

Lucy and Jackson looked up from where they were chatting about their latest arrest to see Tim coming toward them with a scowl on his face.

It had been a few months since Lucy and Tim had had their last shift together. From that time, they had transitioned into more an equal status as coworkers and become even better friends. Hanging out more off duty than they had while she was his rookie. Jackson had even recently pointed out that Lucy spent more off duty time with Tim than she did with Jackson, and they were the ones who lived together. She reminded him that since Jackson and her were now partners, they needed more off duty hours apart or risk ruining their friendship. He had asked her if she felt that way when she was riding with Tim, and she had chosen not to respond. But she definitely thought about it on her own; and realized that if given the choice, she would have spent as many hours with Tim as possible. Though she still refused to think too much about what that really meant.

All the same, she thought Tim had enjoyed the change in their friendship as well. He hadn't called her Chen in months. Not unless he was addressing her professionally with other officers around. And he certainly wouldn't have yelled at her in the middle of the precinct.

When Tim finally reached her and Jackson, he lowered his voice but the rigidness still remained. "You told my rookie we're married?"

"What?" That was not what she was expecting.

"WHAT?!" Beside her Jackson exclaimed more loudly.

Tim was temporarily distracted by Jackson's outburst which gave Lucy more time to think and realize what had happened. "Okay, this is all an honest misunderstanding. Yesterday, when you took that call for the bar fight, got slammed into a wall, and had to go to the hospital for a possible concussion; I heard about it and wanted to know what happened. But Jackson and I were guarding evidence so I couldn't leave the scene. So I radioed your rookie for an update. But your new rookie follows the rules more than you do. He is even more anal about the rules than Jackson was when we first started as rookies."

"Hey!" Tim and Lucy both turned to look at Jackson. Tim was clearly annoyed by his presence while Lucy silently pleaded with him to not make this worse. As much as Jackson wanted to watch this play out, preferably with some popcorn, he decided now was probably a good time to bail. He'd get the rest of the story from Lucy later. "I think I just heard Smitty call for me. So I'm gonna go be anywhere but here."

After Jackson quickly left, Tim turned his attention back to Lucy. "How does my rookie following the rules lead to us being married?"

"He wouldn't give me an update on your condition even after I told him I was your former rookie, and I'm your friend." She looked down as she quietly stated the rest. "So I might have insinuated that we were more than that."

When Tim hadn't said anything yet, Lucy looked back into his eyes. "I'm sorry. I was worried, and I didn't think about the repercussions. But it's going to be fine. He's not going to tell anyone else."

As if right on cue by fate, Tim and Lucy heard the booming voice of Sergeant Grey. "Bradford! Chen! My office! Now!"

Making haste, the pair filed into Grey's office. Both fearful of what he might say, but not wanting to give anything away in case they were wrong.

In almost stark contrast to his demeanor only seconds ago, Grey sat calmly at his desk while Tim and Lucy stood before him. "Officer Chen. Officer Bradford. Or should I say Officers Bradford, is there anything you wish to inform me about?"

Tim remained silent, and Lucy couldn't blame him. This was her fault entirely. "Sir, I'm to blame. Tim..." Tim shot her a quick look as if to say now was not the time to be informal. "Officer Bradford had no knowledge of my conversation with Officer Coleman, and I did not mean for that miscommunication to go as far as it did. I will, of course, inform Officer Coleman of the truth immediately."

To Lucy it felt like forever as Grey studied both her and Tim for some answer he seemed to be looking for in their body language. Finally, he spoke, "So I won't be needing this paperwork." He pointed to a folder sitting squarely in the middle of his desk.

"Paperwork?" She asked. Oh God, had he planned to write up an official reprimand over this? Was she still in trouble? She looked over at Tim who briefly met her eyes. He appeared worried for her as well.

"Paperwork informing the higher ups that two of my officers are in a romantic relationship and requesting that they remain in the same department provided they are capable of maintaining professionalism." Grey informed them with that classic lilt of his voice and a hint of a smile implying that he knew something they didn't.

"That's possible?" Lucy couldn't hide her surprise. She looked at Tim. "Did you know that was possible?"

He only looked at her briefly to shake his head before returning his gaze back to Grey. His stoic manner once again in place, but for a moment she thought she saw something in his eyes. A brief mixture of both hope and regret.

She turned back to Grey who began speaking as if he was waiting calmly for their attention. Not something he would do often. "It's rare, but it is allowed in special circumstances. However, since I won't be needing to file the paperwork today, I'll just put it back in my desk for later." He returned the folder to his bottom desk drawer. Taking notice that both Tim's and Lucy's eyes stayed on that very drawer until they snapped forward upon his sharp "You're both dismissed."

Just as they reached the door, he called back to them. "Tim. Lucy." They both turned to look at him. "The next time I'm informed of your marriage it better be because I was invited to your wedding." He smiled briefly before turning back toward his regular paperwork. Having silently dismissed them again.

Neither sure how to respond to that, they both quickly left his office. They could barely look each other in the eye before silently choosing not address the situation any further. Instead they both returned to their duties to finish out their shift.

By the time shift was over, the awkwardness still remained but walking to their cars together had become an end of shift ritual. Neither was eager to forego it so they walked in silence before reaching Tim's truck. Lucy managed an awkward goodbye and got only a few feet before she turned back around. They had never ended a shift without talking through their problems. Not since those early days. She couldn't leave it this way.

"I'm sorry," Lucy said before she could change her mind.

Tim looked back at her. "You already apologized. I'm not mad. There's nothing for you to worry about."

Lucy moved closer to him. "But there is. I didn't think it through when I let Coleman think we were married. I mean, I knew what I was saying. I knew what I wanted him to think. Because I wanted to know you were okay. But I didn't think about how you would react when he told you. And I realized later that when he spoke about your wife, you must have thought about Isabel. And I'm sorry for any pain that must have caused."

"I didn't," Tim stated. When Lucy looked at him curiously, he continued. "I didn't think about Isabel. In fact, Coleman's exact words to me when he first got in the shop today were 'I'm sorry I didn't tell Officer Chen about your condition immediately when she asked. I didn't know that she's your wife.' So after the initial shock, my only thought was 'I wish she was."

Lucy stood stunned. She watched Tim carefully for any signs that he was teasing her. That this was a trick. Like the one she played on him on their last shift. She regretted her false confession almost immediately. And for months now she had played back those words to him over and over in her head. Wondering just how false any of it really was. But in Tim's eyes she saw absolute sincerity. He meant it completely.

And suddenly that magnetic pull that had always been between them hit them with a full force. Moving toward each other quickly, they met with eager kissing. Lucy wasn't sure how, but at some point Tim had turned them around so her back was pressed against his truck. Only after they broke apart for air did it register to her that they had been standing in the parking garage kissing like they didn't care who might walk by at any moment. And it in truth, it didn't matter. Because Tim was leaning over her with his forehead resting against hers, as if he didn't want any space between them. Neither did she. Not when he was looking at her with so much love in his eyes.

When she finally caught her breath she asked, "Do you think Sergeant Grey will be annoyed with us if we tell him we need the relationship paperwork already?"

She was rewarded with a rare Tim Bradford smile and more kissing.

#Chenford #Chenford fanfic #Tim Bradford #Lucy Chen #Lucy x Tim #The Rookie fanfic #The Rookie #westwingwolf

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slippinmickeys · 3 years

Text

Five Seconds (1/8)

This is the sequel to “Of the Eight Winds,” which began from a small simple prompt from Sunflowerdeedsandscience: “Mulder is unhappily married when Scully is partnered with him, and while he doesn't cheat (because sorry that's not romantic), he falls for her so hard that he finally gets the courage to end the marriage and start fresh.” That prompt took on a life of its own that became ‘Of the Eight Winds.’ This fic immediately follows the events of that piece — I would encourage reading it first if you haven’t.

This is not written in the same Rashomon structure as the original — it is absolutely linear. Hope that doesn’t throw anyone.

I’ll be posting the first two chapters today, and then one chapter a day until next Monday. You can also find it on AO3 here.

PROLOGUE

They say in the heat of the moment, you have five seconds to make a decision. Five seconds between right and wrong. Five seconds between life and death. As Mulder stood watching one gun pointed at his children and another pointed at an immensely pregnant Scully, five seconds seemed an eternity.

XxXxXxXxXxX

6 Months Earlier

She watched the house from the shadows. Occasionally from her car. It was harder to follow the woman as she worked at a secure government facility, but the man was easy. He had a small private psychology practice in a townhouse in Old Town. He usually ate lunch at a Panera near the office or brown bagged it from home.

The kids both attended a private prep school out in McLean. The girl drove herself and her brother most days. The boy would often stay late for sports practice (ice hockey, if the equipment was any indication) and the man would usually pick him up. Their lives were pretty routine.

After two weeks, she finally made an appointment with the man’s scheduling service and waited nervously in the outer office. Right on time, he opened the door.

“Olivia?” Dr. Mulder smiled at her, “come on back.”

She passed him through the doorway and settled into a plush leather couch.

He sat down in a chair across from her and crossed his leg, looking relaxed. Up close, she noticed that his hair was starting to grey at the temples, but he still looked fit, and conveyed an easy manner.

“Thank you for seeing me,” she said, trying to calm her nerves.

“Of course,” he said, looking down at his notebook, “I see you were referred to me by Dr. Heitz Werber?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself,” he said.

She took a breath.

“I grew up here in DC. After grad school… My father worked for the State Department and I, uh, went into the family business.”

Dr. Mulder nodded, his expression neutral.

“I can imagine that’s pretty stressful work,” he said.

“It was,” she said, “I don’t do it anymore.”

He nodded again, waiting for her to fill the silence. She went on.

“The work I did… it hurt people. And I’m… I’m trying to make amends.”

His expression gave nothing away. She steeled herself, took a deep breath.

“Dr. Mulder, my name is Olivia Kurtzweil. Our fathers knew each other a long time ago. I’m here to warn you. You and your family are in danger. Your wife and her baby…”

His nostrils flared, but he maintained his composure.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out several pictures.

“I can prove it,” she said, “This is me and my father, this is me and your sister Samantha. And this is our fathers together.”

“I think you need to leave,” he said, his voice tight for the first time. He was not looking at the pictures.

She rose.

“There’s not a lot of time.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper with a phone number on it, set it next to the pictures, which she left on the office’s small coffee table. “Call me at this number. Soon. I’ll tell you all I can.”

With that she left, her heart hammering in her chest.

CHAPTER ONE

Arlington Cemetery May 2nd, 2018

Mulder descended the stairs quickly, the leather bottoms of his dress shoes scraping loudly on the dusty grit of the steps. The occupants of the underground lair were the perfect people to call when you needed information, but good housekeepers they were not.

He entered the code on the security box at the door at the bottom of the staircase, and the door swung open.

“Guys?” he called into the cavernous space once the door sealed shut behind him.

“In here!” he heard a muffled call from near the back.

He stepped around gunmetal shelves awash in circuitry and computer parts and turned right into the sanctum sanctorum of the place: the desktop on which sat the AMD Threadripper 3000. Two men were hunched over the screen, one sitting, one standing just behind him.

Grease-stained napkins were wadded up next to the keyboard and crinkled butcher paper sat nearby, sporting the red-splotched remains of marinara sauce and a few errant banana peppers.

“You want a meatball sub, Mulder?” came the nasally voice of the man standing, “We got extra.”

“I don’t relish the thought of being up all night with heartburn, Langly, but thanks,” Mulder said, and Frohike turned from the chair, his wispy hair now more white than grey.

“They’re from Gino’s,” he said around a mouthful, “you’re missing out.”

“Tell that to Gino,” Mulder said, “didn’t he die of a heart attack in ‘04?”

“His wife is still running the place, bursting with health,” Frohike said, and reached for a styrofoam cup.

“But she doesn’t eat the subs,” said Mulder, and swung into a nearby chair. “Where’s Byers?”

“Staying with Suzanne for the weekend,” Langly said, like he couldn’t imagine why.

“Is that safe?” Mulder asked. The Gunmen had been hiding out in a government-built safehouse under their own graves in Arlington Cemetery for more than a decade.

Langly shrugged.

The three men looked at each other for a moment. Finally, Mulder spoke again.

“What did you find?”

“Enough,” said Frohike, turning back to the screen. Mulder stood and walked up behind him.

Frohike tapped a picture on the screen.

“Olivia Kurtzweil,” he said, “born December 4th, 1963, daughter of Dr. Alvin Kurtzweil and Ruth O’Brien Kurtzweil. Graduated from Sidwell Friends School in Washington DC in 1981, got a PhD in both Biology and Virology from Boston University in 1987. Employment records get kind of muddled after that, but it would make sense if she worked for the State Department, though what a Biologist/Virologist would be doing for State is troubling.”

Mulder leaned back. It was the same woman who’d been in his office earlier that day.

“And the pictures?” he asked, “of our fathers together? Of her and Samantha?”

“The real McCoy,” Langly said, “they don’t appear to be altered in any way. Sent them to Chuck Burks, too. He concurs.”

Mulder sighed heavily.

“What’s going on, Mulder?” Frohike asked, his tone serious.

“She came to my office today, Olivia Kurtzweil,” he said, nodding at the screen, “she told me that Scully is in danger.”

“In danger?” Langly said, puzzled, “how?”

“Scully is…” Mulder paused, “she’s pregnant,” he said, and he saw both men’s eyebrows go up. “This woman told me that our family... that Scully and the baby are in danger.”

Frohike and Langly traded looks.

“We haven’t told anyone about the pregnancy,” Mulder went on, “and Scully’s OB is an old friend from med school that she trusts implicitly. This Kurtzweil woman knows about the baby and insists it’s in danger. I need to know what’s going on.”

“Firstly,” said Frohike, who stood and put a hand on Mulder’s shoulder, “Mazel tov.” Mulder smiled at him. “Secondly,” he went on, “it appears as though this woman is telling the truth -- at least about who she is -- I would talk to her. See what you can find out.”

“How’s Scully taking this?” Langly asked.

“I haven’t told her yet,” Mulder said, and the boys traded another look. “I didn’t want to scare her without knowing more.”

Frohike squeezed his shoulder again and then let his arm fall.

“Let us know, huh?” he said, “However we can help.”

Mulder nodded and drifted back toward the door, a ball of worry sitting heavy in his gut.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“Where are the kids?” he asked as soon as he walked in the kitchen. He hadn’t even taken off his coat.

“I had a good day, thanks for asking,” said Scully with a grin. She was loading the dishwasher and turned to look at him. Her face fell, turning serious. “The kids are upstairs. What’s wrong?”

“I had a patient come in today…” he started, and her features softened. She probably thought it was just empathy for one of his patients, a tough case. “Scully, she showed me a picture of herself as a kid. With Samantha.”

“What?” Scully said, standing up straight, “how?”

“I don’t know,” he said, and moved past her and into the living room, making for the bookshelf that held old family photo albums. He pulled one out and skimmed through it. Pulled out another. Halfway through, something caught his eye and he flipped back a couple of pages until he saw it. A picture from the same 70’s-era party at his childhood home on the Vineyard that Olivia had shown him. There was his father standing next to Alvin Kurtzweil, and down in the corner, both wearing swimsuits and gap-toothed smiles, pigtails frizzy and wet, sat Samantha and a 7 year-old Olivia Kurtzweil.

He felt his breath leave him.

Scully had come up quietly behind him, put her hand on his arm.

“Mulder?” she said.

“I need to make a call,” he said.

He pulled the note Olivia had left with him out of his pocket. She picked up on the first ring.

“Olivia, this is Dr. Mulder,” he said. “We need to talk.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

The next morning at 9:00am, they found themselves sitting across their kitchen table from Olivia Kurtzweil, Special Agent Monica Reyes, ASAC John Doggett and Assistant Director Walter Skinner.

Scully was sitting, arms crossed in front of her defensively, at the head of the table. Reyes sat next to her, looking at Kurtzweil with an equal amount of curiosity and distrust. Doggett was too amped up to sit and paced through their kitchen. Skinner sat, quiet and still, looking as menacing as ever at the far end of the table.

Mulder felt a certain odd protectiveness toward Olivia, and couldn’t help but treat her a bit like a patient.

“Olivia,” he said calmly, “why don’t you start at the beginning.”

The tale she spun was as fantastic as anything they’d ever heard in their years on the X-Files. Olivia had been groomed from childhood to work on what she called “The Project.” When Samantha Mulder had been abducted, The Project had used her DNA to create alien-human hybrids. Throughout the years, these hybrids had been used by different factions of The Project to further their agendas in relation to a colonization project that Olivia said once threatened the world. She had fought with others to bring it down and now, The Project’s last ditch effort to resurrect itself lay in the cells of the child Scully was carrying.

“How was my father involved?” Mulder said, his voice like ice.

“Your father did everything he could to protect you and your sister,” Olivia said after a pause. “He was the person I initially approached when I became disenchanted. He and I worked together for years dismantling everything we could.”

Mulder narrowed his eyes at her.

“You were at my father’s funeral a couple years ago,” he said, recognition dawning on him, “I saw you at his wake.”

Olivia nodded.

“He couldn’t save your sister,” she said, “but he saved you. And in the end, he saved me.”

“My sister,” Mulder said, his stomach feeling as though it were in his feet, “is she alive?”

“No,” Olivia said, “I’m so sorry. And that’s the problem. Your sister’s DNA was the only one that was able to create viable hybrids. Her DNA was the key. And the last living hybrid sacrificed herself before a rogue faction could get her. That rogue faction is after Scully and your baby for the DNA markers particular to your family.”

“Then why aren’t they after me?”

“The particular markers they’re looking for are rendered dormant after a baby is born. The genetic material they can use is only found in--”

Scully spoke for the first time, finishing Olivia’s explanation. “Embryonic stem cells from our baby.”

Olivia looked pained and nodded. “It’s their last, best hope for restarting the program,” she said.

“How do they even know about the pregnancy? We haven’t told a soul.”

“A hack on your medical records is my guess. HIPAA means nothing to these people.”

“I’m less concerned with the how and more concerned with the why,” Mulder said. “You say embryonic cells. That means they’re on a clock, right? Once the baby is born...”

“Destroy the umbilical cord. The placenta. Those cells are only found in a few places. Destroy anything they might be able to use. After that… you and your baby will be safe.”

“So no one else in our family is in danger?” Scully asked. Her eyes darted unconsciously to a family picture that was framed on the wall above Olivia. It was a candid photo, taken the year before when they had hired a photographer to take Lily’s senior portraits. In it, Mulder and Scully were holding hands, looking at their two kids who were laughing about something Will had said. They were all smiling and carefree. In the moment, it felt like a world away.

“I know the technology and the biology it draws from,” Olivia said, “I helped design it. Their only hope is getting their hands on the embryonic stem cells from your baby. If you were planning on getting an amniocentesis test -- don’t.”

“Why not?” Skinner asked, “why not just give them what they want?”

“Because they’ll never stop,” Reyes said.

Olivia shook her head sadly. “She’s right. They take and they take, and they don’t care who gets hurt or what is lost.” She looked to Mulder. “Your father and I worked for years to shut it down. Finish it. Hide your wife. Protect your baby. Once it’s born, you should all be out of danger.”

“Tell me about this rogue faction,” Doggett’s voice coming from the corner of the kitchen startled everyone.

“Mercs for hire,” Olivia said, “Only one of them that I know of is familiar with the working pieces of The Project. I don’t know him well. I only ever saw him in the periphery.”

“Do you have a name?” Doggett asked.

“I doubt it’s his real one,” Olivia said.

“We’ll take whatever you can give us,” said Reyes, who shot a look to Doggett.

“I only ever heard him called ‘Krycek,’” she said.

Mulder felt his gut drop.

XxX

“What do you think?” Mulder asked Scully, as they sat together around their empty dining room table. Doggett, Reyes and Skinner had left and it was nearly noon, the sun bright outside their windows. Nevertheless, the room felt cold. Mulder could feel anxiety press on him from all sides as though he were under water.

“I don’t know what to think,” Scully said, a hand resting unconsciously on her stomach, which had just started to push out. “Mulder, for almost fifteen years our lives have been ordinary, calm. After all this time…? It strains credulity.”

“Scully I would agree with you. But… some of the things we saw when we were on the X-Files… We know credible threats. This feels like a credible threat.”

“Do you really believe everything she said? About your sister?” He could see her skeptical reserve crumbling.

Mulder let that question sit in the air for several long moments. “Just tell me if the science checks out,” he finally said.

Scully huffed an almost amused sigh. “I couldn’t even begin to-” she started.

“Scully, you yourself were filling in the blanks of Olivia’s story. If what she says is true, does the science check out?”

Scully gave him a long look. “Yes,” she finally said.

He held her gaze, a feeling of overwhelming affection coming over him. “Scully,” he said quietly, “we have to get you somewhere safe.”

She looked down, added another hand to her abdomen so she was cradling it with both. On the countertop, there was a half drunk bottle of Deer Park and a single yellowing banana. Someone had left their iPhone headphones sitting in a semi-coiled loop, and there were crumbs in front of the toaster, dishes in the sink. They sat in the middle of a half-lived life.

“I won’t leave without you,” she finally said, “without you and the kids. We all do this together. If the threat is really what Kurtzweil says it is, I couldn’t bear the thought of them trying to use you or the kids to get to me.”

Mulder nodded curtly.

“I’ll go to the guys,” he said, “see what they can do for us. Skinner and Doggett and Reyes will do what they can to protect us, but I think given everything we’ve heard, it’s best to avoid… governmental oversight.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Scully said.

“We need to leave soon. We can’t wait.”

Apgar jumped on the table then, looking for affection. Scully, who normally wouldn’t tolerate a cat on any eating surface, reached out and pet the cat absently, her eyes far away.

“Where are we even going to go?” she asked.

#MSR #AU #Sequel #Of the Eight Winds #My fic #Fanfic

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ariainstars · 4 years

Text

Thank You, Disney Lucasfilm… For Destroying My Dreams

Warning: longer post.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So… I watched The Rise of Skywalker on Disney+ a few weeks ago. Again.

Sigh.

I guess it has its good sides. But professional critics tend to dislike it and even the general audience doesn’t go crazy for it. I wonder why?

The Fantasy

When his saga became a groundbreaking pop phenomenon in the 1970es, George Lucas reportedly said that he wanted to tell fairy tales again in world that no longer seemed to offer young people a chance to grow up with them. The fact that his saga was met with such unabashed, international enthusiasm proves that he was right: people long for fairy tales no matter how old they are and what culture they belong to.

“Young people today don’t have a fantasy life anymore, not the way we did… All they’ve got is Kojak and Dirty Harry. All the films they see are movies of disasters and insecurity and realistic violence.” (George Lucas)

I’ve been a Star Wars fan for more than thirty years. I love the Original Trilogy but honestly it did not make me dream much, perhaps because when I saw it the trilogy was already complete. The Prequel Trilogy also did not inspire my fantasy.

The Last Jedi accomplished something that no TV show, book or film had managed in years: it made me dream. The richness of colorful characters, multifaceted themes, unexpected developments, intriguing relationships was something I had not come across in a long time: it fascinated me. I felt like a giddy teenager reading up meta’s, writing my own and imagining all sorts of beautiful endings for the saga for almost two years.

So if there’s something The Rise of Skywalker can pride itself on for me, it’s that it crushed almost every dream I had about it. The few things I had figured out – Rey’s fall to the Dark, Ben Solo’s redemption, the connection between them - did not even make me happy because they were tainted by the flatness of the storytelling reducing the Force to a superpower again (like the general audience seems to believe it is), and its deliberate ignoring of almost all messages of The Last Jedi.

Many fans of the Original Trilogy also were disillusioned by the saga over the decades and ranted at the studios for “destroying their childhood”. Now we, the fans of the sequels and in particular of The Last Jedi, are in the same situation… but the thought doesn’t make the pill much easier to swallow. What grates on my nerves is the feeling that someone trampled on my just newly found dreams like a naughty child kicking a doll’s house apart. Why give us something to dream of in the first place, then? To a certain extent I can understand that many fans would angrily assume that Disney Lucasfilm made the Sequel Trilogy for the purpose of destroying their idea of the saga. The point is that they had their happy ending, while every dream the fans of the Sequel Trilogy may have had was shattered with this unexpectedly flat and hollow final note.

I know many fans who dislike the Prequel Trilogy heartily. I also prefer the Original Trilogy, but I find the prequels all right in their own way, also since I gave them some thought. However, it can’t be denied that they lack the magic spark which made the Original Trilogy so special. Which makes sense since they are not a fairy tale but ultimately a tragedy, but in my opinion it’s the one of the main reasons why the Prequel Trilogy never was quite so successful, or so beloved.

Same goes for Rogue One, Solo, or Clone Wars. They’re ok in their way, but not magical.

The sequel trilogy started quite satisfyingly with The Force Awakens, but for me, the actual bomb dropped with The Last Jedi. Reason? It was a magical story. It had the spark again that I had missed in the new Star Wars stories for decades! And it was packed full of beautiful messages and promises.

The Force is not a superpower belonging solely to the Jedi Anyone can be a hero. Even the greatest heroes can fail, but they will still be heroes. Hope is like the sun: if you only believe in it when you see it you’ll never make it through the night. Failure is the greatest teacher. It’s more important to save the light than to seem a hero. No one is never truly gone. War is only a machine. Dark Side and Light Side can be unbeatable if they are allies. Save what you love instead of destroying what you hate.

Naively, I assumed the trilogy would continue and end in that same magical way. And then came The Rise of Skywalker… which looks and feels like a Marvel superhero story at best and an over-long videogame at worst.

Chekov’s Gun

“Remove everything that has no relevance to the story. If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it absolutely must go off. If it’s not going to be fired, it shouldn’t be hanging there.”

(Anton Chekov, 1860 - 1904)

If you show an important looking prop and don’t put it to use, it leaves the audience feeling baffled. There is a huge difference between a story’s setup, and the audience’s feeling of entitlement. E.g. many viewers expected Luke to jump right back into the fray in Episode VIII, because that’s what a hero does, isn’t it? The cavalry comes and saves the day. And instead, we met a disillusioned elderly hermit who is tired of the ways of the Jedi. But there was no actual reason for disappointment: in Episode VII it was very clearly said (through Han, his best friend) that Luke had gone into exile on purpose, feeling responsible for his failure in teaching a new generation of Jedi. It would have been more than stupid to show him as an all-powerful and all-knowing man who kills the bad guys. Sorry but who expected that was a victim to his own prejudice.

A promise left unfulfilled is a different story. The Last Jedi set up a lot of promises that didn’t come true in The Rise of Skywalker: Balance as announced by the Jedi temple mosaic, a new Jedi Order hinted at by Luke on Crait, a good ending for Ben and Rey set up by the hand-touching scene which was opposite to Anakin’s and Padmés wedding scene. Many fans were annoyed about the Canto Bight sequence. I liked it because it felt like the set-up for a lot of important stuff: partnership between Finn and Rose whom we see working together excellently, freedom for the enslaved children (one of whom is Force-sensitive), DJ and Rose expressing what makes wars in general foolish and beside the point. So if we, the fans of Episode VIII, now feel angry and let down, I daresay it’s not due to entitlement. We were announced magical outcomes and not just pew-pew.

The Star Wars saga never repeated itself but always developed and enlarged its themes, so it was to be expected that delving deeper, uncomfortable truths would come out: wars don’t start out of nowhere, and they don’t flare up and continue for decades for the same reason. In order to find Balance, the Jedi’s and the Skywalker family’s myths needed to be dismantled. Which is not necessarily bad as long it is explained how things came to this, and a better alternative is offered. The prequels explained the old political order and the beginnings of the Skywalker family, and announced that the next generation would do better. The sequels hardly explained anything about the 30 years that passed since our heroes won the battle against the Empire, and while The Last Jedi hinted at the future a lot, The Rise of Skywalker seemed to make a point of ignoring all of it.

The Skywalker Family Is Obliterated. Why?

Luke was proven right that his nephew would mean the end of everything he loved. The lineage of the Chosen One is gone. His grandson had begun where Vader had ended - tormented, pale and with sad eyes - and he met the same fate. Luke, Han, Leia, all sacrificed themselves to bring Ben Solo back for nothing. Him being the reincarnation of the Chosen One and getting a new chance should have been meaningful for all of them; instead, he literally left the scepter to Rey who did nothing to deserve it: merely because she killed the Bad Guy does not mean she will do a better job than the family whose name and legacy she proudly takes over.

I do hope there was a good reason if the sequels did not tell “The New Adventures of Luke, Leia and Han” and instead showed us a broken family on the eve of its wipeout. It would have been much easier, and more fun for the audience, to bring the trio back again after a few years and pick up where they had left. Instead we had to watch their son, nephew and heir go his grandfather’s way - born with huge power, branded as Meant to Be Dangerous from the start, tried his best to be a Jedi although he wanted to be a pilot, never felt accepted, abandoned in the moment of his greatest need, went to his abuser because he was the only one to turn to, became a criminal, his own family (in Anakin’s case: Obi-Wan and Yoda) trained the person who was closest to him to kill him, sacrificed himself for this person and died. And in his case, it’s particularly frustrating because Kylo Ren wasn’t half as impressive a villain as Vader, and Ben Solo had a very limited time of heroism and personal fulfilment, contrarily to Anakin when he was young.

The impact of The Rise of Skywalker was traumatic for some viewers. I know of adolescents and adults, victims of family abandonment and abuse, who identified with Ben: they were told that you can never be more than the sum of your abuse and abandonment, and that they’re replaceable if they’re not “good”. Children identifying with Rey were told that their parents might sell them away for “protection”. Rey was not conflicted, she had a few doubts but overall, she was cool about everything she did, so she got everything on a silver platter; that’s why as a viewer, after a while you stopped caring for her. Her antagonist was doomed from birth because he dared to question the choices other people made for him. It seems that in the Star Wars universe, you can only “rise” if you’re either a criminal but cool because you’ve always got a bucket over your head (Vader / the Mandalorian) or are a saint-like figure (Luke / Rey).

One of Obi-Wan’s first actions in A New Hope is cutting off someone’s arm who was only annoying him; Han Solo, ditto. These were no acts of self-defense. The Mandalorian is an outlaw. Yet they are highly popular. Why? Because they always keep their cool, so anything they do seems justified. Young Anakin was hated, Jake Lloyd and Hayden Christensen attacked for his portrayal. For the same reason many fans feel that Luke is the least important of the original trio although basically the Original Trilogy is his story: it seems the general audience hates nothing more than emotionality in a guy. They want James Bond, Batman or Indiana Jones as the lead. Padmé loved Anakin because she always saw the good little boy he once was in him; his attempts at impressing her with his flirting or his masculinity failed. Kylo tried to impress Rey with his knowledge and power, but she fled from him - she wanted the gentle, emphatic young man who had listened to her when she felt alone. Good message. But both died miserably, and Ben didn’t even get anything but a kiss. Realizing that his “not being as strong as Darth Vader” might actually be a strength of its own would have meant much more.

The heroes of the Original Trilogy had their adventures together and their happy ending; the heroes of the Prequel Trilogy also had good times and accomplishments in their youth, before everything went awry. Rey, Finn and Poe feel like their friendship hardly got started; Rose was almost obliterated from the narrative; and Ben Solo seems to have had only one happy moment in his entire life. Of course it’s terrible that he committed patricide (even if it was under coercion), but Anakin / Vader himself had two happy endings in the Prequel Trilogy before he became the monster we know so well. Not to mention Clone Wars, where he has heroic moments unnumbered.

The Skywalker family is obliterated without Balance in the Force, and the young woman who inherited all doesn’t seem to have learned any lesson from all this. The Original Trilogy became a part of pop culture among other things because its ending was satisfying. We can hardly be expected to be satisfied with an ending where our heroes are all dead and the heir of their worst enemy takes over. What good was the happy ending of the Original Trilogy for if they didn’t learn enough from their misadventures to learn how to protect one single person - their son and nephew, their future?

For a long time, I also thought that the saga was about Good vs. Evil. Watching the prequels again, I came to the conclusion that it is rather about Love vs. War. And now, considering as a whole, I believe it to be essentially Jedi against Skywalker. The ending, as it is now, says that both fractions lost: they annihilated one another, leaving a third party in charge, who believes to be both but actually knows very little about them.

Star Wars and Morality

After 9 films and 42 years, it still is not possible to make the general audience accept that it is wrong to divide people between Good and Evil in the first place. The massive rejection of both prequels and sequels, which have moral grey zones galore, shows it.

It is also not possible without being accused of actual blasphemy in the same fandom, to say the plain truth that no Skywalker ever was a Jedi at heart. As their name says, they’re pilots. Luke was the last and strongest of all Jedi because he always was first and foremost himself. Anakin was crushed by the Jedi’s attempts to stifle his feelings. His grandson, too. A Force-sensitive person ought to have the choice whether they want to be a Jedi or not; they ought not to be taught to suppress their emotions and live only on duty, without really caring for other people; and they ought to grow up feeling in a safe and loving environment, not torn away from their families in infancy, indoctrinated and provided with a light sabre (a deadly weapon) while they’re still small. A Jedi order composed of child soldiers or know-it-all’s does not really help anybody.

The original Star Wars saga was about love and friendship; although many viewers did not want to understand that message. The prequels portrayed the Jedi as detached and arrogant and Anakin Skywalker sympathetically, a huge disappointment for who only accepts stories of the “lonesome cowboy” kind. The Last Jedi was so hated that The Rise of Skywalker backpedaled: sorry, of course you’re right, here you have your “hero who knows everything better and fixes everything for you on a silver platter”. The embarrassing antihero, who saves the girl who was the only person showing him some human compassion, can die miserably in the process and is not even mourned.

Honestly: I was doubtful whether it would be adequate to give Ben Solo a happy ending after the patricide. I guess letting him die was the easiest way out for the authors to escape censorship. (I even wrote this in a review on amazon about The Last Jedi, before I delved deeper into the saga’s themes.) The messages we got now are even worse.

Kylo Ren / Ben Solo

A parent can replace a child if they’re not the way they expect them to be. A victim of lifelong psychical and physical abuse can only find escape in death, whether he damns or redeems himself. An introspective, sensitive young man is a loser no matter how hard he tries either way. A whole family can sacrifice itself to save their heir, he dies anyway.

Rey

Self-righteousness is acceptable as long as you find a scapegoat for your own failings. Overconfidence justifies anything you do. You can’t carve your way as a female child of “nobodies”, you have to descend from someone male and powerful even if that someone is the devil incarnate. You are a “strong female” if you choose to be lonely; you need neither a partner nor friends.

In General

Star Wars is not about individual choices, loyalty, friendship and love, it is a classic Western story with a lonesome cowboy (in this case: cowgirl) at its centre. Satisfied?

The father-son-relationship between Vader and Luke mirrors the Biblical story of Cain and Abel, saying that whoever we may want to kill is, in truth, our kin, which makes a clear separation in Good and Evil impossible. The “I am your father” scene is so infamous by now that even non-fans are aware of it; but this relationship between evil guy and good guy, as well as the plot turns where the villain saves the hero and that the hero discards his weapon are looked upon rather as weird narrative quirks instead of a moral.

In an action movie fan, things are simple: good guy vs. bad guy, the good guy (e.g. James Bond may be a murderer and a misogynist, but that’s ok because he’s cool about it) kills the bad guy, ka-boom, end of story. But Star Wars is a parable, an ambitious project told over decades of cinema, and a multilayered story with recurring themes.

A fairy tale ought to have a moral. The moral of both Original Trilogy and Prequel Trilogy was compassionate love - choose it and you can end a raging conflict, reject it and you will cause it. What was the moral of the Sequel Trilogy? You can be the offspring of the galaxy’s worst terror and display a similar attitude, but pose as a Jedi and kill unnecessarily, and it’s all right; descend from Darth Vader (who himself was a victim long before he became a culprit) and whether you try to become a Jedi trained by Luke Skywalker or a Sith trained by his worst enemy, you will end badly?

Both original and prequel trilogy often showed “good” people making bad choices and the “bad ones” making the right choices. To ensure lasting peace, no Force user ought to be believe that he must choose one side and then stick to it for the rest of his life: both sides need one another. The prequels took 3 films to convey this message, though not saying so openly. The Last Jedi said it out clearly - and the authors almost had their heads ripped off by affronted fans, resulting in The Rise of Skywalker’s fan service. It’s not like Luke, Han and Leia were less heroic in the Sequel Trilogy, on the contrary, they gave everything they had to their respective cause. They were not united, and they were more human than they had once been. Apparently, that’s an affront.

The Jedi are no perfect heroes and know-it-all’s and they never were, the facts are there for everyone to see. Padmé went alone and pregnant to get her husband out of Mustafar - and she almost succeeded - although she knew what he had done and that he was perfectly capable of it (he had told her of the Tusken village massacre himself) because she still saw the good little boy he had been in him; Obi-Wan left him amputated and burning in the lava, although he had raised Anakin like a small brother and the latter had repeatedly saved his life. But Padmé was not a Jedi, so I guess she still had some human decency. Neither Obi-Wan nor Yoda lifted a finger for the oppressed populations of the galaxy during the Empire, waiting instead for Anakin’s son to grow up so they could trick him into committing patricide. Neither Luke nor Leia did anything for their own son and nephew while he became the scourge of the galaxy, damning his soul by committing crime after crime. On Exegol, Rey heard the voices of all Jedi encouraging her to fight Palpatine to death. After that, they left her to die alone, and the alleged “bad guy”, who had already saved her soul from giving in to Palpatine’s lures, had to save her life by giving her his own. The Jedi merely know that “their side” has to win, no matter the cost for anyone’s life, sanity, integrity or happiness.

Excuse me, these are simple facts. How anyone can still believe that the Jedi were super-powerful heroes who always win or all-knowing wizards who are always right is beyond me. Luke, the last and strongest of them, like a bright flickering of light before the ultimate end, showed us that the best of men can fail. There is nothing wrong with that in itself. But it is wrong and utterly frustrating when all of the failure never leads to anything better. If Rey means to rebuild the Jedi order to something better than it was, there was no hint at that whatsoever.

And What Now?

The Last Jedi hit theatres only 2 years before The Rise of Skywalker, and I can’t imagine that the responsible authors all have forgotten how to make competent work in the meantime; more so considering that Solo or The Mandalorian are solid work. Episode IX is thematically so painfully flat it seems like they wanted us to give up on the saga on purpose. The last instalment of a 42-year-old saga ought to have been the best and most meaningful. I had heard already decades ago that the saga was supposed to have 9 chapters, so I was not among who protested against the sequels thinking that they had been thought up to make what had come before invalid. I naively assumed a larger purpose. But Episode IX only seems to prove these critics perfectly right.

The last of the flesh and blood of the Chosen One is dead without having “finished what his grandfather started”?

Still no Balance in the Force?

And worst of all, Palpatine’s granddaughter taking over, having proven repeatedly that she is not suited for the task?

Sorry, this “ending” is absurd. I have read fanfiction that was better written and more interesting. And, most of all, less depressing. I was counting on a conclusion that showed that the Force has all colours and nuances, and that it’s not limited to the black-and-white view “we against them”. That’s the ending all of us fans would have deserved, instead of catering the daddy issues of the part of the audience who doesn’t want stories other than those of the “lonesome cowboy” kind. I myself grew up on Japanese anime, maybe that’s one of the reasons why I can’t stand guys like James Bond or Batman and why I think you don’t need “a great hero who fixes the situation” but that group spirit and communication are way more important.

It was absolutely unexpected that Disney, the production company whose trademark are happy endings and family stories, would end this beloved and successful saga after almost half a century on such a hollow note. Why tell first a beautiful fairy tale and then leave the audience on a hook for 35 years to continue first with a tragedy (which at least was expected) and then with another (unexpected one)? And this story is supposed to be for children? Like children would understand all of the subtext, and love sad, cautionary tales. Children, as well as the general audience, first of all want to be entertained! No one wants to watch the legendary Skywalker family be obliterated and a Palpatine take over. The sequels were no fun anymore; we’ve been left with another open ending and hardly an explanation about what happened in the 30 years in between. If you want to tell a cautionary tale, you should better warn the general audience beforehand.

The Original Trilogy is so good because it’s entertaining and offers room for thought for who wants to think about its deeper themes, and also leaves enough space for dreams. Same goes for the first two films of the Sequel Trilogy; but precisely the last, which should have wrapped up the saga, leaves us with a bitter aftertaste and dozens of questions marks.

We as the audience believe that a story, despite the tragic things that happen, must go somewhere; we get invested into the characters, we root for them, we want to see them happy in the end. (The authors of series like Girls, How I Met Your Mother or Game of Thrones ought to be reminded of that, too.) I was in contact with children and teenagers saying that the Sequel Trilogy are “boring”; and many, children or adults, who were devastated by its concluson. There is a difference between wanting to tell a cautionary tale and playing the audience for fools. This trilogy could have become legendary like the Original Trilogy, had it fulfilled its promises instead of “keeping it low” with its last chapter. Who watches a family or fantasy story or a romantic / comedic sitcom wants to escape into another world, not to be hit over his head with a mirror to his own failings, and the ones of the society he’s living in. Messages are all right, but they ought not to go at the cost of the audience’s satisfaction about the about the people and narrative threads they have invested in for years.

This isn’t a family story: but children probably didn’t pester the studios with angry e-mails and twitter messages etc. They simply counted on a redemption arc and happy ending, and they were right, because they’re not as stupid as adults are. I have read and watched many a comment from fans who hate The Last Jedi. Many of these fans couldn’t even pinpoint what their rage was all about, they only proved to be stuck with the original trilogy and unwilling to widen their horizon. But at least their heroes had had their happy ending: The Rise of Skywalker obliterated the successes of all three generations of Skywalkers.

If the film studios wanted to tease us, they’ve excelled. If they expect the general audience to break their heads over the sequels’ metaphysics, they have not learned from the reactions to the prequels that most viewers take these films at face value. Not everybody is elbows-deep in the saga, or willing to research about it for months, and / or insightful enough to see the story’s connections. Which is why many viewers frown at the narrative and believe the Sequel Trilogy was just badly written. This trilogy could have become legendary like the Original Trilogy, had it fulfilled its promises instead of “keeping it low” with its last chapter. As it is now, the whole trilogy is hanging somewhere in the air, with neither a past nor a future to be tied in with.

The prequels already had the flaw of remaining too obscure: most fans are not aware that Anakin had unwillingly killed his wife during the terrible operation that turned him into Darth Vader, sucking her life out of her through the Force: most go by “she died of a broken heart”. So although one scene mirrors the other, it is not likely that most viewers will understand what Rey’s resurrection meant. And: Why did Darth Maul kill Qui-Gon Jinn? What did the Sith want revenge for? Who was behind Shmi’s abduction and torture? Who had placed the order for the production of the clones, and to what purpose? We can imagine or try to reconstruct the answers, but nothing is confirmed by the story itself.

The sequels remained even more in the dark, obfuscating what little explanation we got in The Rise of Skywalker with quick pacing and mind-numbing effects.

Kylo Ren had promised his grandfather that “he would finish what he started”: he did not. Whatever one can say of this last film, it did not bring Balance in the Force. What’s worse, the subject was not even breached. It was hinted at by the mosaic on the floor of the Prime Jedi Temple on Ahch-To, but although Luke and Rey were sitting on its border, they never seemed to see what was right under their noses. It remains inexplicable why it was there for everyone to see in the first place.

We might argue that Ben finished what his grandfather started by killing (or better, causing the death of) the last Jedi, who this one couldn’t kill because he was his own son; but leaving Rey in charge, he helped her finish what her grandfather had started. The irony could hardly be worse.

Episode IX looks like J.J. Abrams simply completed what they started with Episode VII, largely ignoring the next film as if it was always planned to do so. We, the angry and disappointed fans of The Last Jedi, may believe it was due to some of the general audience’s angry backlash, but honestly: the studios aren’t that dumb. They had to know that Episode VIII would be controversial and that many fans would hate it. The furious reactions were largely a disgrace, but no one can make me believe that they were totally unexpected. Nor can anyone convince me that The Rise of Skywalker was merely an answer to the small but very loud part of the audience who hated The Last Jedi: a company with the power and the returns of Disney Lucasfilm does not need to buckle down before some fan’s entitlement and narrowmindedness out of fear of losing money. And if they do, it was foolish to make Rey so perfect that she becomes almost odious, and to let the last of the Skywalker blood die a meaningless death. (Had he saved the Canto Bight children and left them with Rey, at least he would have died with honor; and she, the child left behind by her parents, would have had a task to dedicate herself to.)

The only reason I can find for this odd ending is that it’s meant to prepare the way for Rian Johnson’s new trilogy, which - hopefully - will finally be about Balance. We as the audience don’t know what’s going on behind the doors. Filmmaking is a business like any other, i.e. based on contracts; and I first heard that Rian Johnson had negotiated a trilogy of his own since before Episode VIII hit theatres. Maybe he kept all the rights of intellectual property to his own film, including that he would finish the threads he picked up and close the narrative circles he opened, and only he; and that his alleged working on “something completely different” is deliberately misleading.

Some viewers love the original trilogy, some love the prequels, some like both; but I hardly expect anyone to love the sequel trilogy as a whole. What with the first instalment “letting the past die, killing it if they had to”, the second hinting at a promising future and the third patched on at the very last like some sort of band-aid, it was not coherent. I heard the responsible team for Game of Thrones even dropped their work, producing a dissatisfying, quickly sewn together last season, for this new Star Wars project and thereby disappointing millions of GoT fans; I hope they are aware of the expectations they have loaded upon them. George Lucas’ original trilogy had its faults, but but though there was no social media yet in his time, at least he was still close enough to the audience to give them what they needed, if not necessarily wanted. (Some fans can’t accept that Luke and Leia are siblings to this day, even if honestly, it was the very best plot twist to finish their story in a satisfying way.)

I’m hoping for now that The Last Jedi was not some love bombing directed at the more sentimental viewers but a promise that will be fulfilled. “Wrapping up” a saga by keeping the flattest, least convincing chapter for last is bad form. Star Wars did not become a pop phenomenon by accident, but because the original story was convincing and satisfying. Endings like these will hardly make anyone remember a story fondly, on the contrary, the audience will move to another fandom to forget their disappointment.

On a side note, I like The Mandalorian, exactly for the reason that that is a magical story; not as much as the original trilogy, but at least a little. Of course, I’m glad it was produced. But it’s a small consolation prize after the mess that supposedly wrapped up the original saga after 9 films.

We’re Not Blind, You Know…

- Though Kylo Ren (Ben Solo) has Darth Vader’s stature, his facial features are practically opposite to Vader’s creepy mask. This should have foreshadowed that his life should have gone the other way, instead of more or less repeating itself. - As a villain Kylo was often unconvincing; by all logic he should have been a good father figure. (Besides, Star Wars films or series never work unless there is a strong father or father figure at their center.)

- Like Vader, Kylo Ren was redeemed, but not rehabilitated. Who knows who may find his broken mask somewhere now and, not knowing the truth, promise “I will finish what you started”. - The hand-touching scene on Ahch-To which was visually opposite to Anakin’s and Padmé’s should not have predicted another tragedy but a happy ending for them. - The Canto Bight sequence was announcing reckoning for the weapon industry and freedom for the enslaved children. It also showed how well Finn and Rose fit together. - Rey was a good girl before she started on her adventures. Like Anakin or Luke, she did not need to become a Jedi to be strong or generous or heroic. - Rey summons Palpatine after one year of training. Kylo practically begged for his grandfather’s assistance for years, to no avail. Her potential for darkness is obviously much stronger. - Dark Rey’s light sabre looked like a fork, Kylo’s like a cross. - The last time all Jedi and Sith were obliterated leaving only Luke in charge, things went awry. Now we have a Palpatine masquerading as a Skywalker and believing she’s a Jedi. Rey is a usurper and universally cheered after years of war, like her grandfather. - The broom boy of Canto Bight looked like he was sweeping a stage and announcing “Free the stage, it’s time for us, the children.”

Rey failed in all instances where Luke had proved himself (so much for feminism and her being a Mary Sue): - Luke had forgiven his father despite all the pain he had inflicted on him. She stabbed the „bad guy”, who had repeatedly protected and comforted her, to death. - Luke never asked Vader to help the Rebellion or to turn to the Light Side, he only wanted him back as his father. She assumed that you could make Ben Solo turn, give up the First Order and join the Resistance for her. She thought of her friends and of her own validation, not of him. - Luke had made peace by choosing peace. Rey fought until the bitter end. - Luke had thrown his weapon away before Palpatine. Rey picked up a second weapon. (And both of them weren’t even her own.) - Luke had mourned his dead father. Rey didn’t shed a tear for the man she is bonded to by the Force. - Luke went back to his friends to celebrate the new peace with them. Rey went back letting everyone celebrate her like the one who saved the galaxy on her own, she who were tempted to become the new evil ruler of the galaxy and had to rely on the alleged Bad Guy to save both her soul and her body. - Luke had embodied compassion when Palpatine was all about hatred. Where he chose love and faith in his father, she chose violence and fear. - Luke had briefly fallen prey to the Dark Side but it made him realize that he had no right to judge his father. Rey’s fall to the Dark Side did not make her wiser. - Rey has no change of mind on finding out that she’s Palpatine’s flesh and blood, nor after she has stabbed Kylo. Luke had to face himself on learning that he had almost become a patricide. Rey does not have to face herself: the revelation of her ancestry is cushioned by Luke’s and Leia’s support. Rey is and remains an uncompromising person who hardly learns from her faults.

This is cheating on the audience. And it's not due to feminism or Rey being some sort of “Mary Sue” the way many affronted fans claim. Kylo never was truly a villain, Rey is not a heroine, and this is not a happy ending. The Jedi, with their stuck-up conviction “only we must win”, have failed all over again. The Skywalker family was obliterated leaving their worst enemy in charge. Rey is supposed to be a “modern” heroine which young girls can take as an example? No, thank you. Not after this last film has made of her. Padmé was a much better role model, combining intelligence with strength and goodness and also female grace. The world does not need entitled female brats.

Bonus: What Made The Rise of Skywalker a Farce

- The Force Awakens was an ok film and The Last Jedi (almost) a masterpiece. The Rise of Skywalker was a cartoon. No wonder a lot of the acting felt and looked wooden. - “I will earn your brother’s light sabre.” She’s holding his father’s sabre. - Kylo in The Last Jedi: “Let the past die. Kill it if, you have to.” Beginning with me? - Rey ends up on Tatooine. - The planet both Anakin and Luke ardently wanted to leave. - Luke had promised his nephew that he would be around for him. - Nope. - Rey had told Ben that she had seen his future. What future was that - “you will be a hero for ten minutes, get a kiss and then die? (And they didn’t even get a love theme.) - “The belonging you seek is not behind you, it is ahead.” On a desert planet with a few ghosts. What of the ocean she used to dream about? - Ben and Rey were both introduced as two intensely lonely people searching for belonging. We learn they are a Force dyad, and then they are torn apart again. - Why was Ben named for Obi-Wan Kenobi in the first place, if they have absolutely nothing in common? - The Throne Room battle scene in The Last Jedi was clearly showing that when they are in balance, Light Side and Dark Side are unbeatable. Why did the so-called “Light Side” have to win again, in The Rise of Skywalker, instead of finding balance? - Luke’s scene on Ahch-To was so ridiculously opposite to his attitude in The Last Jedi that by now I believe he was a fantasy conjectured by her. (Like Ben’s vision of his father.) - Anakin’s voice among the other Jedi’s. - He was a renegade, for Force’s sake. - The kiss between two females. - More fan service, to appease those who pretended that not making Poe and Finn a couple was a sign of homophobia. - We see the Knights of Ren, but we learn absolutely nothing about them or Kylo’s connection with them. - Rose Tico’s invalidation. - A shame after what the actress had gone through because for the fans she was “not Star-Wars-y” (chubby and lively instead of wiry and spitfire). - Finn’s and Rose’s relationship. - Ignored without any explanation. - Finn may or may not be Force-sensitive. - If he is: did he abandon the First Order not due to his own free will but because of some higher willpower? Great. - General Hux was simply obliterated. - In The Force Awakens he was an excellent foil to Kylo Ren; no background story, no humanization for him. - Chewie’s and 3PO’s faked deaths. - Useless additional drama. - The Force Awakens was a bow before the classic trilogy. The Rise of Skywalker kicked its remainders to pieces. - The Prequel Trilogy ended with hope, the Original Trilogy with love. The Sequel Trilogy ends on a blank slate. - “We are what they grow beyond.” The characters of the Sequel Trilogy did not grow beyond the heroes of the Original Trilogy. - The Jedi did not learn from their mistakes and were obliterated. The Skywalker family understood the mistakes they had made too late. Now they’re gone, too.

P.S. While I was watching The Rise of Skywalker my husband came in asked me since when I like Marvel movies. I said “That’s not a Marvel movie, it’s Star Wars.” I guess that says enough.

P.P.S. For the next trilogy, please at least let the movies hit theatres in May again instead of December. a) It’s tradition for Star Wars films, b) Whatever happens, at least you won’t ruin anyone’s Christmases. Thank you.

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