#and if his memory is as flimsy as it's shown to be? honestly? he could have just been TOLD he did it and believed it enough to flee

[leatherbookmark]

my (probably easily solvable with just reading the necessary parts in the novel lol) problem with the post abt how it’s not that nmj doesn’t have any hobbies, it’s just wwx being unreliable, is... okay. “wwx knew this from the time my was working under nmj” -- how did he know this? was he close to them during that time? close enough to notice my’s attempts at finding nmj a hobby and nmj’s incompatibility with these? were there rumors about these that reached wwx’s ears? why would people talk about that, though? or did wwx come up with a random headcanon on the spot?

(i’m honestly puzzled by quite a number of things wrt the narration; often i can’t discern if the narration is from wwx’s pov, showing us what he knows, or if it’s omniscient narration that tells us the true state of things. in the first chapters of the novel, after wwx is brought back to life, a lot of the information feels too... informed to be wwx’s knowledge, unless he spends most of his time in inns gossiping with people, but also too flimsy/gossipy-sounding to be the Objective Truth.  that, or i’ve lost the ability to read lmao;;)

i do feel like empathy is less “a sequence of separate scenes shown by the deceased exactly as they want it” and more “the deceased sharing with wwx the state of having experienced their memories, with focus on the memories/feelings they want him to see”, though. nmj’s empathy sequence has time skips, sums up nmj’s dissastisfaction with his new deputy envoy without a concrete “scene” to illustrate it... therefore, my trying to “find nmj’s weakness/hobby” could be just something that happened between the lines that wwx/mxtx simply didn’t find important enough to describe earlier. it wouldn’t be surprising, considering other things that mxtx doesn’t consider necessary to write about.

wwx sure can misinterpret people’s activities, but i don’t see him coming up with a headcanon about something as mundane; he could have simply observed that nmj can taste “tea. that’s tea for sure, aye” regardless of the quality of the leaves, that he doesn’t care for wartime tension-relieving hookups or about the artistic properties of a calligraphy scroll. the “meng yao was trying his best to find something in nmj that he could exploit later” bit is a bit confusing again, because it talks about my’s intent that was somehow noticeable for either nmj or wwx or both. but then, i could easily imagine my trying to get nmj to relax, asking him how he unwinds and then trying to find something for him (and failing), or alternatively: nmj adding the “everything he did was to figure out my weaknesses to exploit my trust!” tint in, uh, post-production.

on the other hand, i also simply wonder if the 当年孟瑶在聂明玦手底下做事时魏无羡就见识过了 sentence has anything in the phrasing that would hint at how exactly wwx obtained the ~intel~: personally during the war or via empathy. hmm

in general though -- i don’t think that nmj having no hobbies other than practicing his saber is necessarily bad, or something a hater would say. dude seems like someone who’s busy as hell, and there’s a certain straightforwardness about him that just gives me the idea that he’d be... rather utilitarian in the things he does. he focuses on the saber training because the nie sect Does Sabers Here, sir, to the point that he doesn’t even go “okay whatever, my did is shit at the saber, let him be a diplomat instead” but constantly nags him about saber practice. practice your saber, and you’ll be a good sect leader, and you’ll be able to protect people and vanquish evil. functionality!

and if he sees a painting, well, does the painted mountain succeed at looking like a mountain? then it’s a good painting, he guesses. is the calligraphy legible? then it’s good. but are they useful? if it’s a book with lan rules, a map, a name of a pavillion or a motto for the disciples to live by -- then sure, but if it’s yet another poem about the beauty of flowers? eh, they’re fine. a character written on fancy paper solely to be beautiful? in what way is it going to influence you? it’s not? then why have it in the first place. an expensive fan painted by a master painter? you’d cool yourself down just as effectively with a blank, cheaper one. etc, etc

[amoirsetpacis]

★ --;; If the ocean that still separates Vash and his brother is vast, even after the work they've put in in this place, the gap between Vash and Legato feels infinite. A great expanse not unlike the inky blackness outside the space station's thick windows. Over a century and a half had changed both of the twins fundamentally, but there was still that bit of connection there, undying. With Legato Vash doesn't even know where to start. Doesn't know anything of the man past the suffering that had been wrought by his fingertips.

Even if it had been commanded by Knives, he had been the one to carry it out. The one to dig his talons into every facet of Vash and latch there, just to see how much he could bleed.

The worst part of all of it was that the physical part didn't even bother Vash that much. He'd bleed, and bleed, and still stand back up. Still force his way through invisible threads because he had no other choice.

He still thinks about the cobbler's wife's screams, though, sometimes. Elena. Blood seeping through flimsy brown paper and onto the bench. Monev, crucified. Livio's bleeding jugular. Viscera against concrete and metal. Wakes up sitting bolt straight in a cold sweat or screaming or both, chest and shoulders heaving.

Forgiveness isn't easy. It's a choice, every time. But it's a practiced skill, old hat, one that's easy enough to work towards. It still doesn't erase the tremor in fingers so used to being steady, the memory of the resistance of the trigger ingrained in the sinew, shoved in his pockets.

But none of that is here, Vash has to remind himself. Second chances are the name of the game, it seems, and even if the images lie over the back of his eyelids as though they were engraved there Bluesummers had at least somewhat shown his own belly, too.

There's-- honestly a bit of a frown on his face, at the mention of Knives not going with him. That nagging thought had been at the back of Vash's mind ever since his brother had told him about his and Legato's-- relationship. ( And boy did even the concept of that ever still throw Vash for a loop. Still leaves another seed of guilt for his reactions in his gut. ) The wondering of it such an imbalance could possibly be healthy. He swallows it down, though, eyes following the shift in Legato's weight and catching sight of his leg.

Answering Legato's plea takes a moment. Even then, it's still dwarfed by its follow up. "Sure, but. Uh- are-- are you still bleeding? I-- um. Have a lot of experience with patchin' stuff up."

He hadn't even been holding onto Stampede, just touching him enough to find him. The visceral reaction (coupled with the knowledge that Stampede had dealt with him enough that he knew the touch of his threads without them even digging in) was plenty reminder of his violently unhinged doppelganger that day. Of the things Knives had shown him, the abuses the Plant had put him through and his decision to fight Stampede at the end.

The hole in the Revenant's head.

Stampede still looks like he's seen a ghost, a haunt, a specter that dogs his steps. Only Legato sees it too this time. It looms over him just as surely as a guillotine, ready to drop and sever the peace he's found here. One hand slowly reaches for the flowers on his lapel, methodically drags his thumb over them to feel each stitch. Careful, precise. The textural difference calms him, a little bit. Enough.

He knows Stampede won't be likely to do anything to him. Even the Revenant, already dead and nothing more then a mockery of what he had been once, wasn't killed by his hand. Wolfwood had put that beast down, as it should have been. Stampede won't draw on him.

But there are so, so many more ways he could hurt Legato, should he choose. Things that would be far more painful long term then death would be. There's too much history between them, half of which Legato himself still doesn't know for sure, and it all makes him jittery. He's already messed up and disappointed Vash (who he's seen and heard nothing of since that day and he knows its not because he did something, knows Vash needs time, but anxiety digs sharp little claws into his ribcage and pulls anyway), already repeatedly spoiled otherwise calm and friendly interactions with Livio. How much is he going to mess up a face to face conversation with Stampede when left to muddle through on his own?

He twitches slightly, when Stampede finally speaks. His mind going ninety miles an hour in a spiral is nothing new to him but he blinks, drags his thumb over the bluebells, forces focus on the now. Takes a breath.

Pauses as Stampede asks if he's okay. Is he? He'd been edging closer to 'okay' lately hasn't he- oh, no he means physically. Of course.

".... Relatively." He shifts, glances down at a mended and still faintly bloodstained pantleg. "A little horde of them cornered me but Livio got there before they did serious damage. I am..... currently ill-suited for dealing with so many combatants." He hesitates, fidgets with the flowers more, then forces everything else out as quickly as he can. "Knives is disinclined to go out looking but I want to find Capriccio. I can't do that on my own, those things will tear me apart. I shouldn't ask because its you, but if I go back the way I came to find someone else I won't sneak past them again, they came out of the vents behind me into the corridor."

Legato scowls, shoulders inching up defensively, which is vastly more visible with this duster then his old coat. He kind of hates it, even if that had been part of the point.

"Just... get me to someone else who is a proper combatant and you'll have to think no more of me."

[curapcrsonalis-blog]

I haven’t been as alive here as I ought to be ( weird home / work things, and typically when I hit an upswing in energy I focus on Misty ) and although I haven’t written anything with or on him yet, and I’m not about to go on a whole spiel about it at like two in the morning, please note that Chester Creb is more of a danger to himself than anybody else and everything the show did with him was a complete waste.

[sheepprophet]

/rp obv and /lh for the most part!

My thinking out loud for who Ranboo could trust with the enderwalk state, in no particular order:

A. Tommy. Probably one of the most obvious choices imo. He's proven to Ranboo specifically that he can be trusted to protect him in a similar situation (the trial about George's house being griefed where Tommy took the fall for him). I think Ranboo knows that Tommy can keep a secret. And Tommy isnt really on any sides at the moment - apart from his friendship with Tubbo which would probably his one loose end that could end up being a deal breaker for Ranboo. I legit think Tommy is objectively the best choice for this job (and i wanna see akward duo reunite as much as the next guy), but we gotta keep in mind who we're dealing with. Ranboo's likely not going to be think of Tommy as someone who's divorced himself from basically all conflict and is just trying to better himself. He's so paranoid about this exact issue, he's probably going to default to thinking Tommy is essentially just between sides right now. Plus, like I said, Ranboo didn't say he needs someone who "isnt on any side", he said he needs someone who's "detached". While Tommy definitely fills the former, he definitly doesn't fill the latter.

B. A lot of chat was suggesting Techno and/or Phil? Which?? My dudes??? No???? Yeah sure they probably wouldn't care, but Ranboo has made it pretty clear that he's really cautious about telling them things like this in fear that one day, they might care. Plus, when they say they don't care, they really mean it. To be honest, I dont think c!Techno or c!Phil are good people to be that vulnerable to? Mainly because this is something that Ranboo is going to need unprompted reassurance with and I dont really think either of them would think to do that? Plus, they're very much on a side, that being their own. When Ranboo says detached, I think he means really detached (or at least as much as humanly possible on this SMP).

C. Fundy. This one is odd because I could totally see it happening, but I can just as easily see it not. Ranboo and Fundy established a pretty strong bond throughout December, but after Doomsday it completely fell through for them both. They clearly still care about each other and that bond is definitely still there, but its been damaged and they've both been afraid to be the first to make an effort to mend it. I genuinely believe if they would just talk, they'd be back to normal in like 10 minutes. But they'd need to talk first and in this case I think Ranboo would be the one to start the conversation, which he's shown discomfort in doing before. However, if they could bridge this gap, l think Fundy would be a very good choice (as long as he could take it seriously). Obviously, Ranboo can trust Fundy on an emotional level and we know Fundy can keep a secret (almost too well) because of the whole A Spy's Diary situation. Fundy also said himself that he currently has no alliances on the smp, aside from probably Ranboo and Ranboo knows this. Additionally, Fundy is one of the only people, along with Puffy, and of course Dream, who have canonically seen him in his enderwalk state. (Tommy did notice him wandering around like he was in it once, but Ranboo hasn't acknowledged that time as canon, so idk). Anyway, I think Fundy would be a pretty solid choice if they can just get their shit together and finally make up.

D. Karl? I see where y'all are coming from with this one and listen, I would also love to see these to interact and bond over their respective memory issues, bookkeeping, and disrealization problems. But, I hate to break it to you that c!Ranboo literally has no clue about any of that. No one does. Karl hasn't told anybody about his ability to time travel and atm doesnt have any plans to. Granted, Ranboo could choose him for other reasons, but I highly doubt it, honestly?

E. Wilbur? I know what i just said, but Hear Me Out. He's not revived right now and we don't know when he will be or what he'll even be like when/if he is. But, a few things we can guarantee is that when/if he is he'll be one of the most detached people on the server (both politically and probably emotionally), he'd have no qualms with helping out Ranboo even if he does turn out to be some awful war criminal, and, based on his interactions with Ghostbur, I think Ranboo might be willing to trust him. And probably my biggest argument for why i like this crack theory: If Wilbur remembers all of the shit he did, that means he'll be one of the few people who would be able to relate to Ranboo. He knows what it's like to have Dream take advantage of your poor/deteriorating mental health and talk you into commiting acts of terrorism. Wilbur also would know what it's like to feel like you can't trust anyone, including yourself, and he could relate to Ranboo's disrealization he's been experiencing. Plus, I just think getting to see these two interact like this would be neat idk. Definitely not going to happen, but I thought I'd inculde the idea here!

F. Eret. Fuck dude, I really want Ranboo to go to Eret about this. Like first of all, Eret is functionally detached from everything right now (I mean that's why Dream has put them on the throne twice now). All Eret cares about is helping those who need it, which would include Ranboo. I also think Ranboo knows he can trust Eret and we all know Eret would be such a sweetheart about comforting the kid, while also understanding the seriousness of the situation and treating it as such. Something that I also thought was interesting was Ranboo emphasizing that it would be ideal if the person has "kept a secret before". Now, Fundy has also kept a big secret before (again, A Spy's Diary), but ya know who was the one other person who knew about Fundy's spy plan and kept the secret (which was someone else's) just as well? Eret. And of course, the reason Eret was the first person who came to mind for me: Eret betrayed L'manberg all that time ago and, obviously, had to keep it a secret and did with ease, even at a time when the writing couldn't protect it for them. Point is, Eret checks this box multiple times over and gets a gold star on it. On the note of Eret's betrayal, what I said about Wilbur knowing what it's like to be used by Dream to commit terrorism/war crimes, also applies to Eret. It's often forgotten that Eret was actually the first person to be used and manipulated by Dream. Eret wanted respect and power and when Dream found out, he promised it to them in the form of a flimsy title and fancy crown in exchange for turning on their friends, Eret took it. They then regretted it almost instantly. Point is, Eret can not only help Ranboo through this with the care and respect he requires, but can also do so by being able to relate to Ranboo on a personal level, which I think Ranboo would respond to. Eret is sort of the closest Ranboo could have to having someone represent what he's afraid he could become - someone who's seen as a filthy traitor and nothing more, never able to earn back the love and respect of their friends. But, Eret could show him that, with time and a lot of effort, he's worthy of forgivess just like they were. I also really want this for Eret. Let Eret be able to use the experience that they view as their biggest mistake, followed by months of paying for it, as a way to be able to help this kid that's grappling with some pretty heavy problems. It would be so healing for the both of them.

[let-it-show]

Oh, for sure the first Frozen movie has plot issues. Agnar and Iduna handled everything about their daughters super poorly, erasing Anna’s memory and keeping her away from Elsa is a bizarre choice when in the next few minutes she’s crashing her bike into statues or whatever. I would think someone as independent as Anna who wants to go outside would sneak out sometimes (I think part of the whole closed doors also meant she couldn’t really go anywhere herself). I could go on. But to call F2′s plot logical and consistent is baffling, I’m sorry. It does not make sense. I love the inclusion of the Sami, that’s great, but they at times feel tossed in. Why did the Spirits punish the Northuldra for Runeard’s disgraceful act? Why did it trap them? Why did they trap...themselves? The earth giants are shown to be big, kind creatures before and after they were sealed away, but the scene at the camp depicts the Northuldra as afraid of them - why? I get that many mythological creatures have their own fits and disasters across different cultures that are strange to mortals, but all the spirits, once calm, are shown to be rather intelligent and kind. Why do they endanger all of Arendelle’s citizens in their wrath? Did Helena and her single life offend them? Why a fifth spirit? Who was it before Elsa? You say this story continues her freedom, but if she is “destined” to step in this role and now tied to Ahtohallan, that’s not exactly freedom. That’s not much of striking out on her own. That’s “you have to live here now for very contrived plot reasons”. She’s made into a...goddess? Immortal? Mortal but slightly higher level? What IS she? Why doesn’t Anna get to have a big moment with her mother like Elsa did? And hey...how come Elsa gets this wonderful memory journey and ANNA’S MEMORIES ARE STILL ERASED oh that irks me! The story of F2 sets up a lot of potential, and I enjoy that. I love myths, love creatures. But it doesn’t answer the multitude of questions it brings up and then separates the two because magic - which, they are absolutely separated. I am also, honestly, EXTREMELY tired of the “co-dependent” argument. It comes up in every F2 ending discussion. On the opposite side of that coin is the “Kristoff sucks cause he’s all about Anna and whines in the woods” from those that hate on the movie. I think both are flimsy cases. Anna’s magic sister she has been connecting with for 3 years is running off into a dangerous forest after their kingdom is disrupted by waking these ancient spirits, they suddenly end up in this situation they have to fix to lift the enchantment and get whammied by new information about their family - well, yea. Of course Anna is sort of freaked out and worried. She’s watched Elsa shut her out of her life, felt crushing loneliness during the death of their parents, then found out about Elsa being magic, THEN freezes to death after her new fiance leaves her to die - I wonder why she’s a little freaked out the whole movie? Then you take Kristoff, who also has to watch all this shit, and no one is really looking out for him when you think about it, because Anna is naturally very worried about Elsa. So, he goes into the woods to have a breakdown with his bestie and you know what, I totally get it. These characters have a lot of baggage and it’s going to show in their situation. I was keeping ships out of it, but if we want to go there, my Anna I mentioned is very Kristanna and very “keep Elsanna tf away from me”. They are the one who asks that we turn the movie off before the ending, because they find Elsa staying in the forest upsetting. Best friends who place more distance between them can be really crushing. As for kids, I don’t have any of my own - but on the flipside of yours, I remember a couple of BEH members saying how their kids really disliked F2 and I’m sure that part of it plays off of how the parents react. This is why I bring up the reactions of the kids I’ve seen at work and other observations. And it’s not that I think these little kids are examining F2 for the plotholes lol or anything like that. They seem to like F2. But they want Anna and Elsa. That is the joy of Frozen to them. I do still love F2. It has stellar animation and songs, I love the sweet parts, the funny parts, I love the action and I do love the magic. I will defend it, but it really does have a lot of problems. Elsa riding off alone away from those she loves so much will always make my heart sink at the end of the movie.

I get frustrated whenever I see all those BringElsahome people hating in Frozen 2. I don’t think that Frozen 2 destroyed the franchise or ruined the messenge of the original Frozen.

I would recommend blocking them and their tags. They are incredibly vile towards Jen Lee and bully other fans, love to come up with conspiracy theories about the making of F2 or Jen Lee's personal life, and some users within that group have been proven to be racists. They have taken criticism of F2 beyond the realm of opinion and have made it a toxic lifestyle. They're not worth your time.

As for the opinion of F2 ruining the message of Frozen, I don't agree at all. I've heavily followed the creation of Frozen and Frozen 2, up to release. I don't see anything in F2 that warrants that criticism. It is still very much a story about sisters and their connection to each other. Elsa trying to find her purpose and Anna learning to accept change does not negate this.

As for destroying the franchise...there was literally a global pandemic. F2 sales were affected by that, and fans have been leaving because of a lack of content. The same thing happened to Frozen around 2016-2018, with fans leaving because of a dry period before F2 was in full advertisement swing. Not to mention the backlash Olaf's Frozen Adventure got. Did that film ruin the franchise too? Please. Frozen will be just fine.

[jasontoddiefor]

Summary: Statement of Shmi Skywalker regarding the conception of the entity known as Anakin Skywalker, former Research Assistant of the Jedi Order. Original statement given on March 15th, 7935 C.R.C. Audio recording by Obi-Wan Kenobi, Archivist of the Jedi Order, Coruscant. AN: I listened to The Magnus Archives for 5 hours straight at work. Read on AO3!

It has been three months since Sidious' full awakening and Anakin’s subsequent disappearance. There have been no signs of either and our research into their whereabouts turns up nothing. Ahsoka has been looking through Anakin’s old notes - his handwriting atrocious as ever - but... there is nothing to be found in his terror-stricken ramblings that would explain why he went with Sidious. Why didn’t he just talk to us? I thought he knew he could trust us, I told him I lo-

It doesn’t matter. This is not what this recording is about.

...

I believe I have found evidence as to why Sidious was so keen on keeping Anakin by his side. We have known for a while that Anakin is different, the Mortis files certainly pointed us in the right direction when it came to that but I had honestly given up on finding something more concrete, but what we dug out of the archive… It’s- I don’t know what I expected. Anakin made a joke once about his mother. It was the only time I heard him speak of his early childhood and her in a way that was not filled with adoration. But he was drunk at the time and we were... occupied with other things, later. In any case. I found a recording that sheds some light on it. So here we go.

Statement of Shmi Skywalker regarding the conception of the entity known as Anakin Skywalker, former Research Assistant of the Jedi Order. Original statement given on March 15th, 7935 C.R.C. Audio recording by Obi-Wan Kenobi, Archivist of the Jedi Order, Coruscant.

I apologize for my shaky handwriting but Anakin is teething - again - and is a little fussy because of it. I’m not quite sure as to the structure of this statements or where I should begin. In my childhood perhaps where I already felt the weight of what you, Master Jinn, told me is the Force. It was always there, whispering in my ear, telling me where to go or what to do. I always thought of it as instinct, that I was reassuring myself.

I never doubted this either until I got pregnant with Anakin.

The first thing you should know is that I am well aware of what state I was in when I noticed the pregnancy. I was a slave and I know there are several ways of wiping away entire years from my mind, but this wasn’t the case. My owner at the time didn’t have the kind of technology for it. Nobody messed with my mind and I know I didn’t sleep with anybody. I was just pregnant someday. I know how incredible it sounds, my Master certainly didn’t believe me, but she also didn’t care given she’d just get another slave out of it. I was shocked when I realized I was pregnant, terrified, but… It wasn’t for myself, not really. I knew I was safe. I don’t know how well you can emphasize, but you are never safe as a slave and yet I felt as if nothing could hurt me. After a series of events of which I don’t know whether the Force influenced them or not, I was made free. I was still stuck on Tatooine, still in the slave quarters because I couldn’t find any other housing, but I was free – and so was Anakin.

The pregnancy itself was quite easy on me actually. I had no health problems, if anything, I felt better than I had in years. No, the real change were my nights. I have always dreamed, but never like this. I felt like I was stuck in a memory that was not mine, forced to watch a fate I couldn’t understand. I saw so much fire and felt…

The statement becomes illegible here. It picks up again after a few paragraphs.

I am afraid of what it will mean for Anakin’s future. He is such a bright child, even if not entirely human as you must have noticed by now. I don’t mean that he is another species, I mean that he is not mortal, he doesn’t exist on the same plain as we do. I know this sounds like the ravings of a mad woman, but I promise you, it is the truth. I mentioned before that he is teething again. It is the fourth time already. His teeth are much too sharp, like that of a predatory species and yet I have never seen him really use them on others. He… doesn’t eat. It scared me at first, I thought my baby was starving, but Anakin just kept on growing. Sometimes I thought I could see him bite into… something. I don’t know how to describe it. It was just there in the corner of my eyes, flickering. It was massive, dark and twisted. I could hear it scream in agony, an awful sound like a pitiful dying thing. When I could see Anakin bite into it, it was as if he tore out bits of flesh, leaving behind a bleeding wound and yet, whenever I turned, I saw nothing. Just Anakin, playing. There was no blood on the ground, no guts. Nothing. He's teething right now, so he isn't biting into anything and I can't show you... Not that I really think it would show up on a recording.

I know it should probably concern me more than it did, but I learned to accept this as another characteristic of my son and moved on. It wasn’t like that was the only strange thing. Anakin sometimes has more eyes than he should. The two blue ones always stay, but there also more in different colors. Gold, red, green… Sometimes he stares into nothing, but his glare is so intense that it doesn’t even look cute on a toddler. I just know that whatever he is perceiving is more than any other mortal can see. I know we are-

Statement ends. The flimsi has been ripped off here. What concerns me the most is the fact that Anakin never talked about any of this. We have lived side by side for years and until we began investigating the Ilum disappearances, Anakin had never shown any such powers or anything. He mostly talked about how loud the Force was becoming now. And then there is also that my Master apparently took Shmi Skywalker’s statement. He hadn’t behaved like he had known Anakin before we picked him up on Tatooine, Anakin hadn’t known him either. How is he involved in all of this? I wish he would have left me more than just a few notes to solve this puzzle. I can’t-

Obi-Wan, I just- Oh, you’re recording?

Yes, Ahsoka. Is there anything I can do for you?

No- nothing really. Sorry, I was just… It’s weird doing all this research without Anakin helping or pointing me in the right direction. Especially because it’s research about him. Do you think- do you think we’ll find him soon?

I hope so. And don’t beat yourself up over it, we’re doing all we can. I will finish this recording, and then I will join you.

Okay. Want a cup of tea?

That would be lovely.

…

Where was I? Right, Qui-Gon. He’s been dead for over ten years now and I still don’t know all his secrets. Shmi’s statement, however, has certainly confirmed that Anakin’s condition, whatever it actually is, hasn’t developed recently. It is something he was born with. While usually I am more skeptical about statements of such a nature… I saw him tear through the very fabric of our dimension, forcing open a doorway to nowhere. I don’t think I can afford to disregard anything when it comes to Anakin. I will attempt to track down the remainder of this statement. This one was buried deep in old research of Qui-Gon. He must have left a hint somewhere. I will find it, and we will bring Anakin back home.

Recording ends.

[winterisakillerwrites]

Love & Great Buildings - Chapter Three

Chapter: 3/19

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: Three years have passed and a chance encounter brings Tom and Rosie together again. Can time make any difference or are they doomed to repeat their mistakes.

Rating: M

Author’s Notes/Warnings:  This is part nine of Last Minutes & Lost Evenings. Many thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff​​ for listening to me ramble incessantly about  this story and being a sounding board when I needed it. You are a lifesaver, even if your stories break my heart.

Previous

CHAPTER THREE

  Rosemary took a deep breath as she walked into the crowded bistro. A quick glance at her watch told her she was a good fifteen minutes early. Perfect. She offered the woman standing behind the counter a small smile and hurried to claim the small table near the back of the room she’d noticed upon entering. It offered a modicum of privacy that she felt they would desperately need.

Her head had finally ceased its incessant pounding; thank god for paracetamol and insanely large amounts of water. But she still felt much the worse for wear. Three hours’ sleep is not at all enough.  

 The night before had dragged on far longer than she’d hoped it would; not that that should have surprised her in any way. Jules, even completely in her cups, was a force to be reckoned with and she certainly hadn’t held back, hitting Rosemary with question after question. What was Tom doing calling her? How did he have her number? Was she actually serious about meeting up with him? Was this all a reaction to how things had ended with Adam? On and on she went until Rosemary thought she’d go mad.

 Even now, hours later, her head was still spinning. Giving Jules carte blanche had been a very, very bad idea. Her own uncertainty and unease of the growing situation with Tom was in no way helped by Jules’ leading and distinctly pointed questions.

 A surprisingly sunny faced waitress approached the table, a stack of menus in her arms. She took one off the top and held it out. “What can I get you?”

 Taking the proffered menu, Rosemary ordered a glass of still water and asked for a few moments to look over her options and to wait for a friend who would be joining her. The waitress nodded flitting off in the direction of the kitchens. She returned a few minutes later, placing the glass in front of Rosemary before heading off towards another recently occupied table.

 Rosemary rubbed her temples, fearing nerves would bring back her headache with a vengeance. She wondered for the hundredth time if coming here, if agreeing to meet Tom, had been a mistake. His excuses from the previous night had been flimsy at best, though admittedly her memory of them was fuzzy. Copious amounts of wine and serious conversations are not the best of bedfellows. Was letting him back into her life, in any way, actually worth it? She honestly didn’t know. But yet here you are…

 She was tempted to simply leave. So sorely tempted. He wasn’t there yet and chances were she could probably get away before he was. Surely it would be the smarter choice to walk away now rather than allowing herself to be slowly pulled back in…But still she hesitated. Was that honestly fair to him? Or to her? She wasn’t the same person she’d been three years ago and at this point she didn’t really know if he was either. Shouldn’t she give him at least the chance to explain? Just to say that she had?

 Give him the benefit of the doubt, she reasoned with herself. See what he has to say. You can always walk away later.  

 Temporarily bolstered, Rosemary felt herself start to relax. There was no sense in working herself up over something that hadn’t happened yet. She drummed her fingers on the table as she sipped her water and watched as people filtered in and out of the bistro’s doors.

 The bistro did a fairly good lunch run, from what she could see. That was promising. Her eyes wandered over the menu, and had they seemed to have a fairly decent selection. Very nice.  If the food was any good it might be worth a repeat visit. She glanced reflexively at her watch, twelve on the dot. Any minute now.

 But by fifteen after Rosemary’s patience was beginning to run thin. She was acutely aware each time the door opened and grew more and more disgruntled when, each time, it wasn’t Tom. The waitress had been by her table twice more, and the expression she wore grew a little more pitying with each pass.

 Rosemary grimaced. She felt utterly foolish for allowing herself to think that coming here could have ever been a good idea. She glanced at the glass and judged that she had approximately two more sips of water remaining. Fine then. If he hadn’t shown by the time she finished then he could go hang for all she was concerned. She was done.

 She’d pushed it for as long as she could, holding her glass and stubbornly hoping he’d walk through the door. But he didn’t and water finished, she grabbed her coat and left. She felt like an idiot. Why did she even consider coming here let alone waiting for so long? Foolish, foolish woman, she chided herself. You always do this. Why can’t you learn?

 “Rosie?”

 She paused momentarily at the sound of Tom’s voice some several yards behind her before shaking her head and pressing onwards.

 “Rosie! Wait!”

 She could hear him scrambling after her but did not slow her pace. It was childish, she knew, but didn’t care. She’d waited enough. And if he didn’t have the decency to recognize that, then so be it.

 It took everything she had not to jump when his hand landed gently on her shoulder. She hadn’t realized he’d gotten so close and so quickly. Damn that man and his freakishly long legs.

 His touch was firm but not demanding; pleading her to turn and face him but not forcing the matter. “Rosie,” he whispered, “Please. I’m sorry. I completely lost track of time. I’m so sorry. I’m a complete ass and I know I don’t deserve it but please, please don’t walk away.”

 She whirled around, her frustration burning clearly on her features. She saw no need to try to hide it. “Why Tom? Give me a reason why I should be wasting anymore of my time waiting for you?”

 Tom flinched at her words before whispering, “Because I don’t want to make the same mistake twice. I pushed you away once and I’ve regretted it every day since. I just want a chance to make it right.”

 Rosemary stared in stunned disbelief. She shook her head, to clear it, and pushed past Tom. Arrogant son of a...

 He hastily reached out his hand, halting her progress. “Wait, please.” Relief flooded his face when she did. “I know you are angry with me and you have every right to be. And I know that I don’t have a reason that won’t sound like I’m trying to make excuses.” Rosemary narrowed her eyes but remained where she stood, waiting for him to continue. “I got caught up in a meeting with Luke and completely lost track of time. I’m an idiot and I fucked up. I’m sorry. Please just give me a chance to fix this.”

 She sighed in resignation. “You keep saying you’re sorry, Tom, but you keep doing this. You make me promises and then you turn around and break them. You ask me to trust you and go and give me reasons why I shouldn’t.” She paused and shook her head. She hadn’t meant to unload on him, and certainly not in such a public setting. “You keep asking for chances, Tom, and you keep blowing them. And I don’t know if I’m willing to waste another on you. Maybe that’s not fair, but I don’t know if I can keep doing this with you.”

 Tom smiled grimly. “You are absolutely right. And I know it’s not fair to you either. I don’t have any excuse for my behavior. I keep hurting you and I don’t mean to. Please believe that I don’t mean it. All I’m asking is you for you please just give me a half an hour of your time. Let me try to fix this, please.” He held his hands up, desperation clear in his eyes. “Just have a quick meal with me. Or a coffee if you’d prefer. Just give me thirty minutes.”

 This is a bad idea, her mind screamed. Just leave. Don’t let him pull you in again. It’s not worth it. But she stood rooted, watching the pleading look in his eyes.

 With a resigned sigh she spoke. “Thirty minutes, Tom.”

 A small, hopeful smile spread across his face, “Thank you.”

                                                        —

 They sipped their respective coffees in silence. Tom had chosen a table in the corner of the small coffee shop, hiding them away from the bustle of busy Londoner’s feeding their caffeine addictions. Rosemary watched Tom as he watched her but neither spoke. She had expected him to bombard her with reasons and excuses for his actions as soon as they had settled. He’d been so keen to get her to stay and to listen. The fact that he wasn’t talking unnerved her.

 With decision she placed her nearly empty mug onto the lacquered table and folded her hands in her lap. “You said last night you wanted to explain so explain.”

 Tom placed his own mug down and straightened the hem of his sweater before speaking. “Yes.” He quickly picked up how mug, taking another sip of his coffee. “I told you last night that I got called in for unexpected reshoots right after we talked in the shop.”

 Rosemary nodded, fussing with her own sweater. His nervousness, it appeared, was catching.

 “I should have called you straight away,” he began again in earnest.  “Let you know what was happening. But I honestly didn’t think it would take more than a few days. But things happened and before I knew it near a week had passed. The mobile reception was poor at the best of times and when all was said and done and I got home and settled it had been well past what I’d promised you. And I knew I didn’t have a good excuse for not calling. I should have called then but I didn’t.  And the longer I waited the harder it was to justify.” He shrugged helplessly. “I had fucked things up with you enough. But I couldn’t just say nothing so…”

 Rosemary took a deep breath and grabbed her coffee mug from the table, taking a large sip of her rapidly cooling latte. “If you had just called when you got home. Hell even a text. Something. I would have understood. I know I have my moments, but I’m not completely irrational…”

 “I know you’re not, Rosie. I never thought that you were,” he assured, tentatively reaching out a hand to her. She watched him cautiously but did not stop him. Tom took her hand and gently squeezed it in his. “And I should have done something, I know that. But at the time…I wasn’t thinking. I was angry with myself and I just didn’t think. It’s not an excuse but it’s all I have.”  

 “And today?”

 She watched him critically. He’d already given her his reasons for their futile lunch meeting; she refused to call it a date no matter that the only person who would know she had was her, but in light of his candor she wondered if that story would change. And if it did what she would do.

 “I really was in a meeting with Luke,” he started. He locked his gaze on hers, blue eyes shining with the need for her to believe him. To listen. And she did so, grudgingly. “Things ran over and instead of calling I just panicked and tried to run here as fast as I could. I saw you leaving and I knew I’d bollocks it up again. I’m an idiot and I am truly sorry.”

 Rosemary didn’t utter a word for several minutes, her gaze darting from Tom to the table and back again. She could hear the pleading sincerity that he’d imbued his words with, but still she could not let herself fully believe them. She had believed them so often in the past and it had never ended well, for either of them.

 Frustration warred with longing. She loved him still, wanted desperately to believe that he meant it when he told her he wanted to be there, to make an effort with her. But yet again his actions spoke of a different and at the same time all too familiar tune. He hurt her in the past and seemed to fall back into that pattern so easily. She couldn’t let herself go through that again. Not now.

 “I hear what you are saying, Tom,” she began, willing herself to remain calm, “But it’s a little bit shit. You say you want to be a part of my life but then you go and pull the same shit you’ve always pulled. I don’t think I want to go through that again. It’s tiring.” She grabbed her purse from the floor beside her chair. “You say that you’re sorry but your actions say something altogether different and right now I cannot deal with that.”

 Without waiting for his response, she walked towards the café’s door and into the weak afternoon sunlight.

                                                         ___

  “Another glass?”

 Jules held up the half empty wine bottle at Rosemary, shaking it lightly, her eyebrow raised in amused question. The living room had been overrun with various blankets, take-away bags and bottles of wine. The television was on, the movie playing all but forgotten.

 Rosemary handled her glass over without a moment’s hesitation. “Yes, please.”

 “You know,” Jules pointed out, filling Rosemary’s glass nearly to the brim and handing it back. “We are very much going to regret this come morning,”

 She accepted it with a snort, “Probably. But fuck it.”

 “Fuck it,” Jules echoed with a smirk, draining her own glass.

 Rosemary had shown up at Jules’ front door, two bottles of wine in hand, several hours before seeking a little levity to the mess her afternoon had been. After she’d left the coffee shop, Rosemary had practically ran back to the store, startling Max and subsequently Hanna, who hadn’t expected her back for another forty minutes at least. She hadn’t said much, simply thrown herself into the back office and tried to lose herself in the growing piles of paperwork. And it had worked, for a time, but soon enough her concentration began to falter. She’d snapped at Hanna when she’d popped her head into the office with a customer query. At that point Rosemary knew she needed to leave. She’d apologized profusely to Hanna and made a beeline for the nearest Tesco Metro and its wine selection.

 Jules had taken one look at Rosemary and pulled her inside with opened arms. Wine bottles were opened and food was ordered in quick succession. It had taken several glasses and half a container of shrimp lo mein for Rosemary to relax enough to let the day spill out in relatively coherent, if not stilted, bursts.

 Once started, she found it difficult to stop; her anger and confusion bolstered by the alcohol that flooded her system. Was she really such a doormat that Tom felt he could walk all over her? The idea bristled. He’d all but waltzed back into her life, charming and handsome as ever, and pleaded for a place in it. And the second she’d agreed he disappeared only to come back and plead again. Wash, rinse, repeat. It was pathetic. Why couldn’t she seem to learn?

 Jules had nodded in understanding. Rosemary knew that her friend harbored little affection for Tom, she’d made it perfectly clear. But never once did she say ‘I told you so’ and for that Rosemary was profoundly grateful.

 “Fuck him,” Jules stated in a matter of fact tone as she refilled both of their glasses.

 Her glass raised in salute, Rosemary flashed a sardonic grin on her face. “That was always the problem.” She stifled a giggle as Jules snorted into her wine glass. “What? It’s true. If I hadn’t fucked him I wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.”

 “But you didn’t know that going in,” Jules indicated with a shake of her head. “Hell, I practically shoved you at him. And for that I am profoundly sorry.”

 With a wave of her hand, Rosemary dismissed Jules’ remark. “I’m pretty sure I threw myself into that one all on my own. But whatever, we could argue it for days and get nowhere.” She took a gulp of wine before continuing, gesturing vaguely. “Besides, it’s not like you didn’t warn me that this would happen.”

 Jules placed her glass onto the coffee table, smiling softly at her friend.  She reached out and rubbed Rosemary’s shoulder in affection. “Has he tried calling again?”

 Rosemary shook her head, “No, thank god. I don’t think that would have ended well at all.”

 “Oh ho now?” Jules quirked an eyebrow and grabbed her glass from the table once more, taking several sips. “Do tell.”

 Bolstering herself with another gulp of wine, Rosemary let out a soft laugh and shook her head. “Because with where my head’s been since this afternoon, I don’t think I have the ability to fake any sort of patience.”

  “Like he deserves anymore of your patience. Just call the bastard and tell him off once and for all.”  

 Rosemary shook her head violently. “No. No. No. No very, very bad idea. Anger plus alcohol plus phones equals massively stupid, terrible idea.” She’d seen enough films to know how that scenario would end. And with all that had happened between them…No, best to let that lie.

 Jules didn’t look convinced, however, the thoughts that swirled in her green eyes were nothing short of troubling. Rosemary groaned, sensing this argument was far from over. Jules with an idea was like a dog with a particularly juicy bone. Nothing good could come of it.  

 Noticing that their current bottle was long since finished, Jules stumbled, albeit gracefully, the nerve, into the kitchen for another. Rosemary leaned back against the cushioned back of the couch with a contented and closed her eyes. She felt a pleasant buzz thrumming through her, not quite drunk yet but very much on her way. Her limbs felt heavy and a tranquility that wasn’t wholly natural filled her.

 “Oh no you don’t!” Jules lectured, shoving her arm none too gently against Rosemary’s shoulder to rouse her. “If I’m going down in a blaze of hangover glory tomorrow then you’re going down with me. Now up!” She thrust a now full wine glass into Rosemary’s hand and dropped herself back into the couch, giggling.

 Rosemary drank dutifully, noting that she was definitely getting far too old for such nights and finding that she did not care a whit at the moment. She would pay for it come morning, that she knew with a startling certainty, but for the moment she would let herself bathe in the false bliss brought on by the wine.

  “You know,” Jules slurred over hour later, nearly spilling the remnants of her glass onto Rosemary’s top as she gestured wildly. “You should call him and tell him what an ass he is.” The two had polished off a further bottle and a half of wine while talking. Tom’s name had come up more and more frequency and with less and less charity.

 Rosemary blinked in confusion, trying to make sense of her friend’s words. Something about the idea seemed…off and in her, admittedly, impaired state she couldn’t quite remember why. Tom was an ass; that she firmly believed. Maybe telling him so would drive the point home to him. He kept pestering her for chances and then walked all over her. Maybe it was time she told him just where he could stick his need to fix whatever the fuck laid between them. “That,” she agreed, “Is a very good idea.”

 Her purse, however, was on the floor by the front door and that seemed so very far away. And she needed her phone to tell Tom he was an ass. With determination, Rosemary pushed herself to her feet, trying to desperately ignore the way the room seemed to tilt ever so slightly to the left. It took her several tries to dig her phone from the depths of her bag and several more to unlock it and find Tom’s number in her recent call log.

 Without a moment’s hesitation, she selected the number and hit ‘dial’.

  Next

[sasskarian]

The Mostly-Complete Rise of Skywalker semi-liveblog and reaction list that literally no one asked for

I really dig the parallels between Exegol and Korriban. The way both places felt massive and cramped at the same time, all ominous and tomb-like. Both of them are desolate, devoid of all life. They both feel barren, but not just barren. Korriban feels like history crumbling beneath your fingertips. Exegol feels like a place that’s actively trying to wound you with its desolation, like it’s sucking the life out of you to try and renew itself. (Which, given that Palpatine is there and what he does later, yeah, that tracks.)

When Palps tells Kylo to kill Rey, you can see the micro expression in his eyes. The way the muscles in his face tighten up for a second, the brows drawing down in an expression of disdain and repulsion. If we could have seen his mouth, I’d lay money down on there being a sneer flash across his face for a moment. And damn if Adam isn’t a good actor for being able to portray something that subtle.

There were definitely a few moments where Chewie bitches at Poe for the stunts he’s pulling, including a very definitive accusation of “Rey would never do this to me or the Falcon,” or something along those lines. (This is when Poe snarls, “Yeah, well, Rey’s not here right now, is she?”)

Kylo reaching out into the Force. We’re supposed to think he’s trying to reach Anakin/Vader, but I don’t think that’s what happened at all. I think that he reached for Rey specifically, possibly as a self-soothing gesture. The need to feel her alive, reassure himself. And because of Rey’s feelings and connections to his own family, he’s clearly struggling with his more monstrous acts, and with seeing Luke and Han as intrusive thoughts.

Rey failing the training course because of him makes perfect sense. Notice that this is also when she gets angry.

The Kintsugi vibe given off by Ren’s helmet repairs are fascinating.

Given the way Pryde keeps focusing on Hux during the meeting, I feel like he suspects Hux.

I find it interesting that Finn seems to be the peacekeeper in the OT3. Poe is definitely a hothead, even though he’s matured since TFA and TLJ. And Rey snaps back at him, indignant that he’s snapping at her. And Finn is the one doing the “Guys, guYS, we don’t have TIME for this” routine.

I like the quiet horror of Rey recognizing Exegol’s name. Whether it’s Force shenanigans, or from reading Luke’s books, or from the vision, whatever. The recognition followed by horror is Good Fucking Acting.

I wish that there’d been a little more of Luke or Leia reassuring Rey that a name is just a name. That the legacy is what you make it. And that as the children of Anakin Skywalker, they know that better than anyone. I feel like that would have been a good tie-in and highlight for the way the surnames are treated in the movies. Ben shunning both Organa and Solo, Rey having a last name at last but one that carries the same kind of stigma and Dark past.

I… kind of wonder if Ren surrounded himself in atrocities as a means of self-punishment. We know it’s canon that he keeps being pulled to the Light, and that every time he does, he tries something Dark. Maybe it’s his way of reminding himself how far he’s fallen and that he can’t ever go back home again (which we know is bullshit, but hey, abuse fucks your brain up, and Snoke was abusive af). Like, again, I know it’s mostly just in the comics so far, but we see him a lot saying, “I never wanted this,” “I don’t want to do this.”

The Pasaana dance in the festival seems pretty clearly modeled after tribal dances, and that makes me wonder if powerful dances like the Dha Werda and the Ancestor Dance shown in the film send ripples through the Force. And what that might be like.

I… kind of like the idea of Ben and Kylo struggling for control? I need to finish reading TLJ and read TRoS when it comes out, but there are things Kylo does—the almost-gentle banter with Rey, the way he reaches out in TLJ when she’s on Ahch-To, warning her about Palps—that doesn’t make sense from a purely Kylo perspective. I mean, I’m also an angst gremlin who enjoys the idea of Kylo losing more ground to Ben Solo, and having serious identity clashes.

The bond between Rey and Kylo has grown exponentially. Each movie, it gets bigger and more powerful. In TFA, it allowed her to look into his head. And he wasn’t able to really bring himself to hurt her. In TLJ, it bridges impossible distances of space, even so far as transporting physical objects across the distance. And in TRoS, we see that it’s gotten so strong, it literally blocks out the rest of the physical world. You could argue that the darkness in the bond is what’s overshadowing it, but I don’t count it that way. Rey’s surroundings on Pasaana are slowed down and muted, as if only Ren is her focus.

The trio is so drift compatible, it hurts.

The way the trio grabs for each other, though. It was beautiful. Disney may have decided that Poe/Finn wasn’t a thing, which we all know is a damn lie, but this movie ships the OT3 so hard. The way Poe catches Rey as she falls, the way they both turn at almost the same time to look for Finn. The casual touching.

Childish though it was, I did enjoy the “mine’s bigger” joke with Rey’s lightsaber vs Poe’s flashlight.

Rey shows an affinity for Animal Empathy. Ren has used Stasis more than once. I could even argue that there’s been some subtle Battle Meditation going on throughout the series. And I kind of? Like that we’re seeing some of the more obscure and subtle Force powers.

Also? The snakey slow-blink? I love.

Rey seems to have some psychometry abilities. And I love it.

The way Rey says “I’ll be right behind you” isn’t what it sounds like. It has a lot of layers to it. (Just like Han’s “I know” in ESB) It’s declaration of intent (“I’ll handle this”), it’s a request (“Trust me”), and it’s consolation and reassurance (“I’ll be fine.”). The way all that is conveyed with five simple words is. Ugh. My heart.

As Finn gets stronger in the Force, I’m enjoying seeing his instincts kick in. He senses Ren’s approach, which is a nice completion of the parallel to TFA when Ren sensed him as the traitor.

I don’t know who’s read the Rise of Kylo comic, but the way she slices his ship to bring him down is a direct parallel to the shot he made when he escaped the destroyed Temple. (I love all the tie-ins, honestly)

Rey was doing okay with trying to pull the transport down until Kylo stepped in to push her. The most likely scenario is less “force lightning is genetic” (because that’s crap) but more that anger clouded her mind and she already had a direct Force ability going.

When I asked my roommate why she thought Rey couldn’t sense Chewie’s life force, she gave me an interesting theory. Well, a few, but one I think makes a lot of sense. The first was that Chewie was already off-world and thus too far away (later debunked by her sensing him as the Destroyer is in orbit). Or that maybe the transports were shielded against Force Abilities, but given that they’re so rare in this era, I don’t think that’s the case. I agree with my roomie in saying that it’s more likely that Rey burnt out part of her senses and basically put herself in shock due to the feedback of casting a powerful and traditionally dark side ability for the first time.

The first couple of times I watched the movie, the entire Threepio arc bothered me. Why didn’t they just plug him into the navicomputer, the way they’d done before? Why the angst build-up? Then I remembered that they left the Falcon on Pasaana, and it’s possible that L3 is more equipped to talk to Threepio’s forbidden memory banks than a post-TCW era ship that’s almost certainly out of date.

…Zorii and Poe have A Past. I’d put money on them having banged like screen doors in a hurricane at least a few times.

“Who are you hanging out with that spEAKS SITH?!?”

I? love? Babu?

“Does she do that to us?” had me in tears.

Oh my God, the sheer #aesthetic and foreshadowing of her duel with Ren. The red fruit (cherries?) spilling across the floor, the stark color against the too-bright white. The way Vader’s helmet thunks on the ground like a sour note in a song, the way the pedestal shatters with their combined strikes. Vader falling from Ren’s worship (as the truth is revealed that it was Snoke/Palps messing with his mind and he never heard Vader), the dark glass shattering the same way the darkness in Ren dies with him.

Finn is… kind of a gossipy biddy and I love it. The way Jannah hands him the part and he just flat out abandons the work to talk, the body language as he hoists himself up to sit on the ledge. I love it. He’s precious.

I wonder if the Death Star echoes in the Force. So many brutal deaths in those halls. So many restless ghosts.

…okay, I’m not sure how to feel about the dagger lining up with the fallen DS’s architecture. Because like. There’s so many layers to that? That suggests that Palps had the dagger created after Endor/RoTJ. Which suggests that he may have had the Wayfinders created then too (though it seemed pretty comfy in the Vault, so maybe he already had them?) (Also, there was one on Mustafar. Was it planted there? Did Vader know about Exegol? I need more information than this!) And like. The Death Star is sitting in a violent sea. It’s going to degrade eventually. What if the horizon line had changed? What then? It seems flimsy, for all that it was dramatic and cool.

The sheer aesthetic in this movie, though. The symbolism is everywhere. Like Rey taking the skimmer. I love the aesthetic choices of her struggling against these giant, furious waves as a fantastic visual analogy of her struggle against the emotions churning away inside her. And how Despair and Fear and even Anger threaten to overwhelm her and drown her, but she keeps holding tight to that little skimmer the same way she’s clinging to Luke’s teachings and Leia’s love and faith in her. Their belief in her.

“You don’t know what she’s fighting.” “And you do?” I wonder if, as a Force Adept, Finn can sense the bond between Rey and Ren, and that she’s struggling against it. As well as the Palpatine name.

Theory (that may or may not have been explored in the Legends EU): Any place steeped in enough Dark emotion can become a place of visions like the Mirror Cave and Dagobah’s Cave. Rey comes face to face with her worst fear on the Death Star.

Speaking of, I wonder if some small part of Rey enjoyed the vision of her and Kylo as Emperor and Empress. I wonder if that’s where the abject horror comes from.

Speaking of more aesthetic, the on-screen contrast and history of the window where Vader and Luke dueled, and the shot of Palps’ throne over Rey’s shoulder. Sorry not sorry but I’m going to be forever in love with the cinematography in this movie.

Ren seems… almost exasperated that she’s still drawing her saber on him. That has fic potential.

That. Entire. Fucking. Duel. That entire battle. Just… oof. OOF. My heart. It blew everything in me wide open. Looking with the eyes of a writer and SW expert instead of the wide-eyed “my hEaRt!” first reaction, I saw So Much. Like Rey and Ren trading battle stances. IDK if anyone else noticed, and it’s happened before (the throne room battle in TLJ, notably, but also their duel in Ren’s quarters). But here, it’s so clear. They gave and took from each other as they fought, and that broke my heart. It threw me back to KotOR II’s echani battles, and the fight between Sun and Mun in Sense8. Here, unlike TLJ, they weren’t fighting in tandem with each other. This was back and forth. Rey starts out saber up, in what looks like shii-cho. Kylo, like always, starts out in Ataru, with heavy, powerful strikes trying to bludgeon down her defense. Rey switches to an offensive, then to fast, agile strikes holding her lightsaber Ahsoka style. Kylo then switches to shii-cho, and Rey enters Ataru, with the aggressive offensive. The way they switched between each other was fantastic.

Near the end, Rey starts giving up. You can see it. Her movements get sluggish, like she’s just going through the motions. Like she’s so tired of fighting the bond in her head, her reluctant pull to him, like she’s just. So Fucking Tired. She’s resigned.

Kylo Ren dying by his own lightsaber while Ben’s mother called to him. That symbolism. That symbolism, though.

The way he looks around, like he’s in shock. The way the battle just stops, and he’s sitting there, dying. You can see the change in him, as Ben wakes up and Kylo dies. There’s so much shell-shock and disorientation, like someone who’s been asleep for too long, waking up confused. And I’d like to believe that Rey healing him poured not just healing but maybe a little Light into him, and that, along with Leia reaching for him, is what gave Ben the strength to rise over Kylo and overpower him. (See also, my love of internal power struggles)

“I did want to take your hand. Ben’s hand.” Excuse you, I did not sign up for this feels trip.

Rey running away. I have… conflicted feelings on? Did she run away because she was grieving? To escape her own history? Did she run because she gave into the dark and struck down Kylo in anger? Or because she was tempted by Ben?

I know everyone says that Han was just a memory but I prefer to believe that Han’s just too stubborn to be a proper Force Ghost. And Disney and Lucasarts can pry Force Sensitive Han Solo out of my cold dead hands.

Luke, materializing out of the air and catching the saber. My heart screamed. Especially when he chided her (and himself) that a lightsaber deserves more respect.

“Leia didn’t tell me.” I think… I think Leia was trying to, without saying the words, “Rey, you’re a Palpatine.” She said, “Never be afraid of who you are.” And oh, God, that’s something Leia would know. In the EU she struggles with being Anakin’s daughter, with the legacy of Vader hanging over her. She struggles with it so much. And finally comes to terms with it. So if anyone knows what that’s like, it’s going to be her.

­­­"She sensed the death of her son at the end of her Jedi path." So... she had nearly thirty years to plan for it. Yoda says, “Always in motion, the future is.” I don’t believe for a single instant that Leia Organa shrugged her shoulders and said “Welp, guess my kid’s gonna die.”

Luke KNEW Ben would go to Exegol. He knew and no one will ever convince me otherwise. “Take both sabers.” She’d need one for Ben.

I wonder if Lando looks at the Falcon and sees all the little pieces of Han.

So. The arrival order at Exegol threw me for a while. Rey gets there, in Red 5. Using the toasted Wayfinder. Then the Resistance arrives, following her trail. We see Ben arrive in a TIE fighter. But… how? Rey’s trail was given to the Resistance on what I can only imagine is an encrypted wave data burst. We know it was technically given to Lando, so that the people joining the battle could find them. But Ben’s in a TIE fighter. Did he get the message from Lando? Were the coordinates already programmed into the TIE via the Final Order? Did he memorize the path from before (given that he’s a stellar pilot like Han)? Did Rey give it to him?

I hate Palps being a one-trick pony in the movies. We see him in TCW having other abilities, and mad saber skills. But in the movies, his schtick is the same every time: He seduces people to the Dark and makes them feel like they don’t have a choice, usually by dangling, “Look, you can SAVE THEM” in front of everyone. And then once he has them, he keeps them by constantly belittling them and reminding them that there’s nowhere else for them to go, because they burnt all their bridges. (Ex: Vader being reminded of what he did to Padme, and Kylo being reminded via Snoke of his own actions)

WEDGE. WEDGE ANTILLES. WEDGE.

Rey felt Ben’s approach, and you can see the change in her body language.

THAT IS THE MOST HAN SOLO THING I HAVE EVER SEEN AND IT’S NOT EVEN HAN SOLO. Watching the changes in Ben (vs Kylo) is so fucking great. He’s lighter, he’s faster. He skids (Han/Death Star), shoots behind him (Han/TFA), and the Solo Shrug. Ugh. Seeing Leia and Han blended in Ben with the Solo swagger, and Leia’s grace is fantastic.

Also: he looks so Soft. And so much younger.

I wonder if they’re communicating through the bond? He knows she can see him, because he nods at her to give him the saber. And unless I didn’t see correctly, she mouthed/whispered his name. And again, we see the connections between them in the fighting style. They’re still acting and reacting like extensions of each other.

The way they meet, the relief on their faces. Relief that melts into stubbornness and determination. Also, the way they take up their sabers in the same stance, the same expression. It’s delicious.

We were ROBBED of seeing the Jedi around Rey. ROBBED.

I’m STILL SALTY that they weren’t there for Ben (that we can see anyway).

Ben proceeded to completely shatter my heart. When he pulls Rey into his lap, he looks around like he’s waiting for someone to tell him what to do. He’s actively seeking guidance and help. And because we don’t have an in to Ben’s head, we don’t know if someone told him what to do or how to do it, or if anyone comforted him. But we do see his face go from disbelief to despair to acceptance.

The face touch. Stop breaking my damn heart.

When the Core ships arrive, I’m almost positive I saw The Razorcrest and the Ghost. I need to check the disc where I can pause it, but I’d put money on it that I saw them.

The way the trio grabs for each other at the end is more movie-shipping-OT3. Finn holding the two people he loves most in the world, right where he can see them. Poe taking Rey’s hand. They don’t know what happened in the Citadel, but I’m pretty sure Finn can feel how tired Rey is, how wounded she is. And they’re There For Her.

Rey burying the sabers on Tatooine has so many emotions attached to it. Tatooine, where Anakin Skywalker was born of the Force, where Luke spent his formative years. Luke and Leia resting together in the Force, as their student moves on and tries to find her way in the galaxy. And the parallels and tie ins from TFA to now, like Rey building a dual saber from parts of her quarterstaff, the sand sliding, and the OT callback to the protag being silhouetted by the twin suns, were satisfying.

Rey’s saber being yellow is something I find… interesting. If you look at the newer movies, whenever a blue or green saber crosses with a red one, the light sparks and blending of the plasma fields look yellow. And Kyber crystals (in the new canon) aren’t colored. They take on a color when the jedi awakes the force in them. So for her color to resonate yellow as someone balanced in light and dark makes a lot of sense.

I have… Opinions on the surname controversy that I’m still trying to sort through. And I definitely have Opinions on Ben sacrificing himself (mostly that the entire sequel trilogy spent two and a half movies harping on about balance only to kill off half the balance and leave a Force Wound in their protag)

***

Was Rise of Skywalker a good movie? Eh. That depends a lot on your criteria.

Was it a successful Star Wars movie? That also depends on your criteria.

But for me, it felt like Star Wars. It felt like an ending to the Skywalker saga. Did I get everything I wanted? No. Am I salty about parts of it? Absolutely. Are there plot holes I could drive a Death Star through? You betcha. Were we robbed of a better, more cohesive movie based on the leaks from JJ’s crew? YUP.

But I found things to enjoy. I got things I wanted (OT3! Force Sensitive Finn! Bendemption! Lando! Hope for the galaxy!), didn’t know I wanted (Master Leia! D-O the anxiety droid! Generals Finn and Poe!), and things I definitely didn’t want.

[pengiesama]

I Wanna Be Yours (Fic, TGCF, HC/XL, Modern AU)

Title: I Wanna Be Yours Series: Heavenly Official’s Blessing (Tian Guan Ci Fu) Pairing: Hua Cheng/Xie Lian

Summary:

Xie Lian wants to make Hua Cheng's birthday a special one. Luckily, this is achievable as a simple four-step plan:

Step the first: go to his place. Step the second: take off your clothes. Step the third: you're wearing lingerie under your clothes. Step the fourth: tell the birthday boy to unwrap his present.

Link: AO3

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What was he doing. What was he doing. Oh, this was so foolish. Oh, this was going so wrong already.

Xie Lian was currently undergoing a crisis in the bathroom of Hua Cheng’s apartment. He’d had crises in much worse settings, certainly – at least here there was a lovely view of the city skyline from the window, and a nice big bathtub to sit in and reflect on one’s actions. But the – setting of it all only reminded Xie Lian of why he was having this crisis.

Xie Lian again caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror, and let out a miserable groan. He retreated to the tub for some of that aforementioned reflection time.

--

 It was Hua Cheng’s birthday, and Xie Lian had been at a loss. What do you get the man who has everything, especially when you’re a man who emphatically does not? He’d asked him, of course, what he wanted, and Hua Cheng had assured him that the pleasure of Xie Lian’s company would be a precious gift to last him through the year. And Xie Lian had flushed, and Hua Cheng had smiled, and kissed his knuckles, and – satisfied that he had properly flustered Xie Lian enough for the day – had walked Xie Lian back to his apartment. And.

And.

And that had been it.

Hua Cheng was charming. He was smooth, and suave, and a complete gentleman. This much had remained the same over the years. They’d had…well, there was something there between them, when they were attending university together. Something big and mysterious and so, so tempting and so, so scary – something they’d never had the nerve to act on, back then. They’d lost touch after Xie Lian dropped out, though not through any fault of Hua Cheng’s. Xie Lian had packed a bag and walked out of the dorms without so much as a goodbye to anyone – too ashamed of everything that had led to this to give even the slightest courtesy to the few people who still gave a shit about him. It wasn’t a proud time in his life. But years later, years later, he’d found himself staring at a familiar figure at his apartment doorstep, and welcoming him in for tea.

It was a second chance that Xie Lian didn’t think he deserved. But Hua Cheng still wanted to give it to him – still felt the same about him as he did when he was a silly, lovestruck kid barely out of his teens. And oh, Xie Lian could relate, could relate to the way his skin burned when Hua Cheng offered his hand to help him out of his seat, could relate to the way his heart felt as though it would burst from his chest when Hua Cheng kissed him goodnight at his apartment door. Could relate to the way his spirits soared whenever Hua Cheng caught a glimpse of him and smiled, smiled so warm and wide no matter what they were doing. Could relate to the frustration he surely felt when they were kissing on the couch and Xie Lian’s body froze up whenever hands began to wander too far.

He wanted to give Hua Cheng more than just – handholding and forehead kisses. He himself wanted more than that. But here was the thing: he was a thirty-year-old virgin with a whole lotta baggage to unpack about intimacy. What was a lovestruck idiot such as he to do?

His first mistake was seeking the advice of Shi Qing Xuan.

“You are in the presence of a gift-giving guru,” Shi Qing Xuan assured him. “Remember what I got Ming-Xiong at our joint party last year?”

“I do,” Xie Lian said politely, hoping that Shi Qing Xuan wouldn’t force him to re-live the memories of an evening that had traumatized everyone witnessing it.

  A giant cake, being wheeled out of the kitchen. Ming Yi’s eyes going glassy and dark at the sight of it; the eyes of a shark, overcome by the smell of blood. Shi Qing Xuan, popping out of the cake in a sexy bunny-suit, only managing to sing a few notes of his birthday serenade before Ming Yi lunged in and—

And—

Overcome, overcome by the smell of blood and fondant, and the terrible sounds of screams—

  Xie Lian shivered and tried to bring himself back to the present. He’d survived that night, as most other restaurant patrons had, and that was all that mattered in the end.

Shi Qing Xuan leaned in, giving Xie Lian a too-bright, too-manic smile. Xie Lian had half a mind to excuse himself and escape out the nearest window, but found his wrists seized before he could put that plan into action.

“We’re going lin-ger-ie shoppiiiing,” Shi Qing Xuan trilled in a sing-song voice.

 --

 And that was how Xie Lian wound up in the tub, dressed in something vaguely resembling underwear.

The plan, as Shi Qing Xuan had outlined it (on pink, perfumed stationery), had been so simple on paper.

 Step one: go to your San Lang’s place.

Step two: excuse yourself to the bathroom!

Step three: take off your clothes!!

Step four: you’re secretly wearing your sexy new lingerie under your clothes!!!

Step five: strut your whole self out of that bathroom!!!! Pose also!!!!!

Step six: tell your birthday boy to unwrap his present!!!!!!

 Step one had been simple. Hua Cheng had welcomed him warmly at the door; pressing a kiss to his forehead, the tip of his nose, and finishing with a sweet, chaste kiss to his mouth. At the sight of the love in his expression, at the curve of his lips as he pulled back and rested his forehead against Xie Lian’s…Xie Lian immediately initiated step two and ran off to the bathroom, locking himself in.

Hua Cheng had immediately called after him, concerned, and Xie Lian had begged his pardon, his patience – he’d just – he’d eaten some bad yogurt, that was all, and he needed a few minutes. He’d be out soon.

Step three (which was also step four, honestly; Shi Qing Xuan got a little too excited to pay attention to numbers when plotting was afoot) was simple enough. It was easy to hide the…birthday surprise…under the oversized sweaters and shapeless thrift-store jeans that made up the majority of his wardrobe. The lingerie was gauzy, lacey; gleaming pearl-white and nearly translucent against his skin, such a contrast with the ever-present black choker around his neck. He slid his jeans off easily, and tried to adjust his garter belt the way Shi Qing Xuan had shown him, without ripping his thigh-high stockings in the process. He gave up after a few attempts, snapping one of the straps against his thigh irritably.

This was the point where he had first glimpsed himself in the mirror, and noticed that his panties – the ones that Shi Qing Xuan had spotted in the store and instantly insisted he wear – had a heart-shaped cutout in the back, framed with a big silky bow, showcasing his butt for the world to see. The lace was so thin, the fabric so sheer, that touching him here would hardly be any different than touching bare skin. This began the crisis that drove Xie Lian into the bathtub, preventing all hope of going through with step five in the foreseeable future. He would remain in this tub, in what passed as underwear by some bizarre standard, and proceed to ruin Hua Cheng’s birthday; just as he always knew he would.

Xie Lian heard whimpering at the bathroom door, and the sounds of pawing. This proved to be catalyst enough to prod him out of the tub. He bustled over to the door and bent down, peering under the gap between the door and the floor. A single, blood-red eye stared intently back at him. There came more whimpering, and then a pink, slobbery tongue questing under the door to swipe Xie Lian’s face.

“It’s alright,” Xie Lian soothed. “Good boy, E-ming. I’m fine, I’ll be out to pet you soon.”

The thought of having to wait a moment longer for Xie Lian to pet him seemed to only upset E-ming more, and the whimpering and crying redoubled in force and volume. Xie Lian moved away before that tongue got him again, and took a deep breath. He really had to come out, now – E-ming was the size of a direwolf and had the emotional neediness of a toddler, and Xie Lian doubted Hua Cheng’s bathroom door would be able to withstand much more pawing.

Xie Lian spotted a red silk robe hanging on a hook and took it down to shrug it on over his not-really-clothes. Hua Cheng probably wore this when he was fresh out of the shower. He was probably usually naked under it, considering the shower thing. Wet and naked. Xie Lian needed to stop thinking about this.

The moment he opened the door, E-ming’s long black snout poked through the crack, and he was able to project the sounds of his crying directly into Xie Lian’s face. Quite literally, considering he was a very big and tall boy. Xie Lian made comforting noises, and scooped him up, cradling his massive body in his arms as if he was a wee puppy.

“I kinda wanted to get you some like, lacy opera gloves to wear,” Shi Qing Xuan had said, squeezing Xie Lian’s bicep. “But I don’t think anything’s gonna fit over this gun show you’ve got going on.”

Xie Lian would pass on the opera gloves and keep his muscles, thank you very much. They were hard-won, and far more useful than some flimsy decorative gloves – for example, he would not be able to carry around three hundred pounds of crying dog otherwise.

“Gege? Are you alright?”

He heard Hua Cheng shifting around in the living room, and swallowed hard.

“I’m—I’m fine! Don’t come in here, just…go sit on the couch and close your eyes. Don’t peek.”

There was a pause as Hua Cheng processed the request, but he made no protest.

“Of course.”

Shy and awkward and completely unappealing as he felt, Xie Lian still didn’t want to spoil the surprise. And if Hua Cheng saw him wearing his silk robes, carrying his giant half-wolf-half-bear-half-horse-half-shadowbeast-probably-a-dog around like a baby, well…well, that would probably spoil the surprise? Maybe.

Xie Lian settled E-ming onto his dog bed, and stroked his head a few times before bidding him to stay put for a while. Exhausted from his emotions, E-ming sighed and settled his enormous head onto his front paws, and was asleep in seconds. Xie Lian patted him once more, smiling. Such a good, sweet boy. He couldn’t understand why more people didn’t see past his exterior – his exterior being an enormous black dog with blood-red eyes and a booming bark that could shatter glass, but still.

With E-ming tended to, there was to be no more dawdling. Xie Lian clutched at the breast of his borrowed robes and breathed deeply. Even if – even if Hua Cheng didn’t like this “present”, maybe they could at least have a good laugh about it, and Hua Cheng could tell him what he really wanted. Xie Lian could try to bake him a cake, maybe.

Hua Cheng’s penthouse apartment was large, but comparatively little of it was lived in. Hua Cheng scoffed at the idea of entertaining any guests other than Xie Lian (and occasionally Shi Qing Xuan and Ming Yi, when the former insisted on dropping in and the latter was bodily dragged along), and any guest receiving rooms seemed to be decorated with this disdain in mind: stylishly decorated with the most obnoxiously expensive and outrageously uncomfortable furniture, with unnerving and aggressively surreal artwork lining the walls. It seemed to serve less as a home, and more as a symbol of Hua Cheng’s self-made business empire.

When he and Xie Lian had first reconnected, the only room in the house that had any signs of life was his own bedroom – as if he’d never really felt the need to grow out of the art-student-in-a-rundown-studio-apartment mindset. It evoked a sort of warm nostalgia in Xie Lian, but still – he did feel the urge to suggest some…expansion. Hua Cheng’s art supplies and the fumes that accompanied them were moved to a proper studio room, his gaming equipment was hooked up in the living room, facing the couch, so Xie Lian could sit next to him and watch in polite confusion while he talked to Ming Yi over his headset and engaged in relentless trolling campaigns against foulmouthed players who had the same lack of maturity and emotional control that Xie Lian associated with his cousin. It already felt like a more comfortable place to live – and Hua Cheng deserved a comfortable, welcoming home.  

Shyly, Xie Lian peeked into the living room. True to his promise about waiting patiently, Hua Cheng was seated on the couch, hands folded politely in his lap. True to his promise about not peeking, he had swapped his eyepatch over to the other eye. Xie Lian felt a laugh bubble up from his chest, relieving some of his tension.

“San Lang.”

Hua Cheng tilted his head and twiddled his thumbs. “Hmm? I hear a lovely voice calling for me.”

Xie Lian stepped into the room properly.

“You—you can look now.”

Hua Cheng moved his eyepatch back over, opening his good eye just in time to see Xie Lian slide the robe off his shoulders; letting it pool on the ground around his feet.

“H-happy birthday.”

He’d never really noticed how chilly Hua Cheng kept his apartment. He supposed it was usually because he was dressed in more layers than…this. He shivered, and wrapped one arm around himself. Hua Cheng wasn’t saying anything, and Xie Lian couldn’t bear to look at him. He really should’ve just tried making a cake.

“It’s…it’s okay if you don’t like it, or if you don’t want to—”

“No! No, I…gege. This is…”

Xie Lian nearly jumped out of his skin at Hua Cheng’s exclamation, and finally looked over at him. His face was so, so red. He was staring at Xie Lian, jaw tense and lips just slightly parted. He looked – embarrassed, and eager. And like he was only seconds away from swooping in and pinning Xie Lian to the nearest wall.

It was encouragement enough to walk forward, and sit next to him on the couch. Hua Cheng’s molten gaze didn’t leave him for a moment. Xie Lian might be a thirty-year-old virgin, but he knew Hua Cheng, and he wasn’t stupid.

“…Shi Qing Xuan helped me pick it out,” Xie Lian quietly said, breaking the silence. He continued, trying to figure out a topic of conversation – what did you even talk about when you were about to…do this kind of thing? “And helped me figure out how to put it on. The stockings kept rolling down my legs, so we had to buy the rest of the…architecture…to keep them up. These garter things are a pain, so fiddly to get hooked up…”

Xie Lian snapped one of the garter straps against his thigh again to demonstrate, making an audible noise as the strap connected with his skin – pa! Hua Cheng swayed, glassy-eyed, and briefly looked like he was going to pass out on the spot. Xie Lian grabbed onto his shoulder to steady him, and they locked gazes for a long moment.

That was all it took. They both started laughing, helplessly, melting into each other’s arms for support, for warmth, for no reason at all other than that the other person was there to be held.

“So gege has been plotting with others!” Hua Cheng swooned dramatically backwards, sprawling on the couch with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead. “A plot most devious!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Xie Lian said. He’d allowed himself to be pulled along with Hua Cheng as he toppled himself over, and was laying across his chest. He wasn’t in any mood to move – this was a wonderful way to warm up from the chilly apartment. “There was no way I would’ve been able to figure this out on my own. Shi Qing Xuan buckled me in before I came over, and…”

Hua Cheng peeked his eye open. “…you came wearing that underneath your clothes?” he managed, after a moment or two. “You took the bus like that?”

“Well, yeah. It wasn’t very comfortable, but it wasn’t such a big deal. I might just go without underwear on the way home.”

Hua Cheng’s expression was unreadable. “…tomorrow morning, I’ll call a cab to get you home instead.”

Xie Lian instantly started to protest this generosity. “San Lang, there’s no need, I have a bus pass, I can just…”

The rest of the sentence died in his throat. Tomorrow morning, Hua Cheng had said. Xie Lian supposed that meant he’d just been invited to stay the night. Xie Lian supposed he knew what Hua Cheng wanted to do, tonight. Xie Lian certainly knew what he wanted to do. He squirmed, and buried his reddening face into Hua Cheng’s broad shoulder.

“Gege.”

He felt Hua Cheng’s hand on his back, felt that hand and its long elegant fingers trace down, down his spine. Xie Lian’s face only burned hotter when Hua Cheng’s fingers reached the hem of his panties, and that big ridiculous silk ribbon atop his rear end.

“There’s a bow,” Hua Cheng said aloud, high-pitched and almost hysterical. “Gege, at this rate I won’t make it until my next birthday.”

Xie Lian squirmed and reached back to grab Hua Cheng’s wrist, guiding it even lower until his fingers could brush the outline of that silly heart-shaped cutout, until the palm of his hand was properly settled on the curve of his backside. He could keenly feel the heat of his touch through the gauzy material.

“…look at me.”

Face tucked into the join of his neck and shoulder, Xie Lian felt the rumble of Hua Cheng’s request more than he heard it. Slowly, he picked himself up, and managed to look Hua Cheng in the eye. It…wasn’t as difficult as he thought. Xie Lian was nervous, of course, and unsure, and shy, and completely out of his element. But he was with Hua Cheng, and there was nothing but love and adoration and care in his expression.

Hua Cheng cupped Xie Lian’s face in his hand, and Xie Lian nuzzled into his palm without even so much as a second thought.

“You don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable.” Hua Cheng’s hand slid back into his hair, and tilted his head down just so, enough for Hua Cheng to press another kiss to his forehead, his brow, his cheek. “Do you want this?”

He wanted. He wanted, and Hua Cheng made him feel like he deserved to have it and so much more. He made him feel like he was something precious, something worth treating gently, something that belonged here, in Hua Cheng’s arms. It was a difficult sentiment to put into words.

(Though, honestly, he thought he’d made himself clear when he marched out of the bathroom in lingerie and put Hua Cheng’s hand on his butt. Maybe he wasn’t being the shy one here.)

“I do,” Xie Lian breathed, turning his face so those roaming lips properly met his own. “San Lang…San Lang!”

The squeak of Hua Cheng’s name that came out of Xie Lian’s mouth sounded almost affronted. Hua Cheng had scooped him up and clambered to his feet with him in tow without so much as a warning – they were having a Moment and they were kissing and now they were not. Xie Lian pouted at Hua Cheng, expecting an explanation for this. As always, Hua Cheng thought his pouty face was just the funniest thing, and he leaned in to press a loud, wet, smacking kiss to his cheek.

“My prince. This San Lang begs your forgiveness for his presumption. Being as I am a hopeless and completely irredeemable romantic, I wish to unwrap my present in the privacy of our bedroom.”

Xie Lian eyes went wide, and his cheeks beet red. He tucked his face against Hua Cheng’s shoulder. Hua Cheng made a low noise that reverberated and shivered its way into Xie Lian’s bones.

“Does my prince accept such a proposal? May I carry you off? Throw you onto my sheets? Put my hands and mouth all over you?”

“San Lang,” Xie Lian whined desperately. The apartment definitely wasn’t chilly anymore. His whole body felt like it was prickling to life with a thousand tiny embers. “Please. Please.”

Hua Cheng was a man who kept his promises.

Alas, a bit too well.

“San—ah!” Xie Lian gasped and clutched at Hua Cheng’s thick, silky hair. This did nothing but encourage him to keep mouthing Xie Lian’s erection through the lace of his panties. The thin fabric was damp from his tongue, and clung to Xie Lian’s skin uncomfortably. “I…oh, please…please, i-it’s your birthday, I should be…I should be…”

Hua Cheng made a savoring noise, and pressed his face more insistently into Xie Lian’s crotch. He breathed in deeply, then cracked open one eye to stare at Xie Lian; his gaze wild and blazing under the mussed fall of his bangs. It made Xie Lian want to cover his face, want to hide in the red silk sheets, want to melt away into Hua Cheng’s mouth. But it was so rude of him! So rude! It was Hua Cheng’s birthday, and he was the one – p-providing service, taking care of Xie Lian. Xie Lian should be the one with his mouth on Hua Cheng; should be the one touching him and making him feel good.

Hua Cheng’s grip was relentless on his thighs; his fingers tangled under the garter straps and under the flimsy stocking fabric. His mouth climbed higher until his lips were pressed to the line of Xie Lian’s hipbone. And oh, those were his teeth –

“Gege. So beautiful, gege. I’m—” Hua Cheng shuddered into silence, and his hips jerked against the mattress. His hands twisted in the straps and lace covering Xie Lian’s body, clutching hard enough to bruise. Xie Lian’s mind raced at the thought. “—I’m sorry. I’m sorry, you deserve more, I wanted…I wanted to—”

“San Lang.” Xie Lian stroked that lovely head of his, and waited until he looked up at him again. “Lay on your back? Against the pillows.”

Stiffly, as if he could hardly control his limbs, Hua Cheng clambered into position as requested. Xie Lian crawled to him, slowly, taking in the sight before him. Pale skin, midnight-black hair, muscles shifting under Xie Lian’s touches. He was just so lovely, his San Lang. Xie Lian reached out to trace up his long legs, bidding him to bring his knees up and apart. He’d managed to get Hua Cheng’s shirt up and off his head before Hua Cheng had dove in between his legs, but hadn’t gotten the chance to free him from his trousers quite yet. Xie Lian eyed the – rather large tent in the fabric. He thought of Hua Cheng flipping him on his stomach, yanking his panties to the side, and sliding that big thing into him. His thighs shifted against each other, seeking friction to relieve the rush of want.

Hua Cheng made a small, desperate noise when Xie Lian went for his belt and zipper, carefully and gently tugging the fabric down until he could get a good hold on his erection. It was…well, it was intimidating, sure, but it was also just so cute. Xie Lian brushed his fingers against the tip, experimentally, and Hua Cheng gasped aloud and scrabbled for purchase on the sheets. Cool on the outside, but just as cute as can be on the inside. Just like all of Hua Cheng.

Xie Lian didn’t really know exactly what to do next, but, well, he was creative, and he thought it would be rather nice to have a taste of Hua Cheng. He smiled up at Hua Cheng, stuck out his tongue at him, and before Hua Cheng could try to be a gentleman and tell him he didn’t have to, he dove in and swiped his tongue across the tip of his cock.

“Gege!”

That didn’t sound like a shout of pain, so Xie Lian figured he wasn’t doing too badly so far. He looked up at Hua Cheng, trying to carefully judge his reactions as he put his mouth more properly on his cock. Hua Cheng looked like he was – about to ascend to the heavens, about to die. About to cry, even. Xie Lian made a concerned noise, and stroked his free hand against the back of Hua Cheng’s own, where it fisted white-knuckled into the sheets. It was nice to know that he wasn’t the only one nervous, here. Xie Lian smiled up at him, lips curling around the tip of Hua Cheng’s cock—

Hua Cheng gasped, and one hand flew up to grab at Xie Lian’s hair and yank him back. Something hot and salty flooded his mouth and spilled over his lips as Hua Cheng’s cock slipped out, dribbling down his chin and onto the red sheets. Xie Lian lifted a hand to catch any further mess, only belatedly realizing that he could probably swallow instead of drooling all over himself. He gulped down the remainder of the stuff, feeling it slide thickly down his throat and into his belly. Not bad. He knew his palette was…questionable, but he didn’t hate the taste of it, not at all.

Xie Lian swiped his thumb across his chin and lower lip to try and clean himself, and was turning over the idea of licking his fingers clean before Hua Cheng lurched forward and collided into him, knocking him onto his back on the bed.

“You are going to kill me,” Hua Cheng croaked out, sounding half-dead already.

“Hmm?” Xie Lian tilted his head to the side. “Did I not manage? Should I try again?”

“Oh, please, let’s,” Hua Cheng purred in his ear. “Though I think I’d like to return the favor.”

Xie Lian had always thought his San Lang had lovely hands. Long and elegant fingers, a strong and warm grip to hold Xie Lian’s hand in turn. Those long pretty fingers proved to be talented and gentle and relentless, sliding into Xie Lian and working him open until he was ready for him, so ready, so ready, please, San Lang, put it in me, I need you.

Once he was fully seated inside him, Hua Cheng heaved a sigh that was at least partially a sob and rested his forehead against Xie Lian’s. He was such a gentleman, so kind to Xie Lian, so kind and patient, waiting until Xie Lian adjusted to that thick, hard cock of his instead of just grabbing onto his hips and fucking him inside-out.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian breathed into his ear. He squeezed down on him, and tilted his hips up, insistent. “San Lang.”

Such a gentleman, such a gentleman. He tried so hard, his sweet San Lang, to go slow, afraid of hurting him. Xie Lian kept squeezing on him, kept tugging his hair, kept crying out his praises until Hua Cheng’s patience and remaining composure finally broke. He was such a gentleman, until he wasn’t. Xie Lian found himself being nearly bent in two; his legs over Hua Cheng’s shoulders, in the perfect position for Hua Cheng to fuck him deep and hard and desperate.

His San Lang was so pretty. Xie Lian couldn’t imagine a lovelier sight than this: Hua Cheng’s furrowed brow, his eyes wild and intense and fixated directly on Xie Lian, his mouth open and wet and panting out praises, exhalations, panting Xie Lian’s name. It didn’t take long for Xie Lian to reach his own release, with the feeling of Hua Cheng’s body on his, in him. Distantly, as he was riding on the last waves of it, he felt Hua Cheng’s warmth spread inside of him, filling him up. Ah. No matter what hole he took his San Lang into, the results were so wonderfully sweet. He could get used to this.

Xie Lian cradled Hua Cheng’s head against his chest, stroking his hair and allowing him to gather his senses. After a moment or two to catch his own breath, Xie Lian turned his head to the side, frowning at the nagging sense that someone was watching.

E-ming stood at the side of the bed, waiting patiently, holding his favorite butterfly toy in his massive jaws. His tail began to wag once Xie Lian’s attention was on him, stirring up a small tornado in the room. He delicately put a paw on the bed, indicating his intent.

“E-ming,” Xie Lian said firmly. “Wait.”

E-ming began to shake and whimper, putting more weight onto his paw, pushing the issue.

“Not right now. No cuddle time. No bedtime yet.”

Hua Cheng grumbled and tried to get up. “I’ll take care of him, gege. It’s my cuddle time.”

Xie Lian cunningly distracted him with a kiss, and slipped out from under him and off the bed to escort E-ming out of the room and back to his dog bed. He heard the shower start up on the way back, and was intercepted and stripped of the lingerie that had survived the bedroom before being bustled into the shower alongside Hua Cheng to clean up.

“Was this…was this enough?”

Hua Cheng hummed happily. “The loveliest and most precious gift I have ever received. The heavens themselves could not bless me more.”

Xie Lian’s cheeks reddened, even after everything. Honestly, he’d hoped he was going to be less easy to fluster after this.

“I thought—I thought I could bake you a cake, maybe? A birthday cake.”

“That sounds delicious, gege. Did you have a recipe in mind?”

Xie Lian squirmed off the couch, straightening out the oversized shirt he was wearing that he’d borrowed from Hua Cheng to keep himself decent. “I did! You can just – you can stay in here so it’s a surprise?”

Hua Cheng smiled sweetly at him, and folded his hands on his lap like a patient schoolboy. “Of course. I can’t wait to see what gege bakes for me.”

And he had a broom closet full of fire extinguishers, just in case.

--

[winterisakiller]

Love & Great Buildings - Chapter Three

Chapter: 3/19

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: Three years have passed and a chance encounter brings Tom and Rosie together again. Can time make any difference or are they doomed to repeat their mistakes.

Rating: T (for now)

Author’s Notes/Warnings: This is part nine of Last Minutes and Lost Evenings. Many thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff​ for listening to me ramble incessantly about  this story and being a sounding board when I needed it. You are a lifesaver, even if your stories break my heart.

This story and its preceding one-shots can be also be found on AO3 under the username: winterisakiller (sparkinside)

Tag List: @tinchentitri @noplacelikehome77

Previous Chapter

CHAPTER THREE

Rosemary took a deep breath as she walked into the crowded bistro. A quick glance at her watch told her she was a good fifteen minutes early. Perfect. She offered the woman standing behind the counter a small smile and hurried to claim the small table near the back of the room she’d noticed upon entering. It offered a modicum of privacy that she felt they would desperately need.

Her head had finally ceased its incessant pounding; thank god for paracetamol and insanely large amounts of water. But she still felt much the worse for wear. Three hours’ sleep is not at all enough.   

The night before had dragged on far longer than she’d hoped it would; not that that should have surprised her in any way. Jules, even completely in her cups, was a force to be reckoned with and she certainly hadn’t held back, hitting Rosemary with question after question. What was Tom doing calling her? How did he have her number? Was she actually serious about meeting up with him? Was this all a reaction to how things had ended with Adam? On and on she went until Rosemary thought she’d go mad. 

Even now, hours later, her head was still spinning. Giving Jules carte blanche had been a very, very bad idea. Her own uncertainty and unease of the growing situation with Tom was in no way helped by Jules’ leading and distinctly pointed questions.

A surprisingly sunny faced waitress approached the table, a stack of menus in her arms. She took one off the top and held it out. “What can I get you?”

Taking the proffered menu, Rosemary ordered a glass of still water and asked for a few moments to look over her options and to wait for a friend who would be joining her. The waitress nodded flitting off in the direction of the kitchens. She returned a few minutes later, placing the glass in front of Rosemary before heading off towards another recently occupied table.

Rosemary rubbed her temples, fearing nerves would bring back her headache with a vengeance. She wondered for the hundredth time if coming here, if agreeing to meet Tom, had been a mistake. His excuses from the previous night had been flimsy at best, though admittedly her memory of them was fuzzy. Copious amounts of wine and serious conversations are not the best of bedfellows. Was letting him back into her life, in any way, actually worth it? She honestly didn’t know. But yet here you are…

She was tempted to simply leave. So sorely tempted. He wasn’t there yet and chances were she could probably get away before he was. Surely it would be the smarter choice to walk away now rather than allowing herself to be slowly pulled back in…But still she hesitated. Was that honestly fair to him? Or to her? She wasn’t the same person she’d been three years ago and at this point she didn’t really know if he was either. Shouldn’t she give him at least the chance to explain? Just to say that she had?

Give him the benefit of the doubt, she reasoned with herself. See what he has to say. You can always walk away later.  

Temporarily bolstered, Rosemary felt herself start to relax. There was no sense in working herself up over something that hadn’t happened yet. She drummed her fingers on the table as she sipped her water and watched as people filtered in and out of the bistro’s doors. 

The bistro did a fairly good lunch run, from what she could see. That was promising. Her eyes wandered over the menu, and had they seemed to have a fairly decent selection. Very nice.  If the food was any good it might be worth a repeat visit. She glanced reflexively at her watch, twelve on the dot. Any minute now. 

But by fifteen after Rosemary’s patience was beginning to run thin. She was acutely aware each time the door opened and grew more and more disgruntled when, each time, it wasn’t Tom. The waitress had been by her table twice more, and the expression she wore grew a little more pitying with each pass. 

Rosemary grimaced. She felt utterly foolish for allowing herself to think that coming here could have ever been a good idea. She glanced at the glass and judged that she had approximately two more sips of water remaining. Fine then. If he hadn’t shown by the time she finished then he could go hang for all she was concerned. She was done. 

She’d pushed it for as long as she could, holding her glass and stubbornly hoping he’d walk through the door. But he didn’t and water finished, she grabbed her coat and left. She felt like an idiot. Why did she even consider coming here let alone waiting for so long? Foolish, foolish woman, she chided herself. You always do this. Why can’t you learn? 

“Rosie?” 

She paused momentarily at the sound of Tom’s voice some several yards behind her before shaking her head and pressing onwards. 

“Rosie! Wait!” 

She could hear him scrambling after her but did not slow her pace. It was childish, she knew, but didn’t care. She’d waited enough. And if he didn’t have the decency to recognize that, then so be it. 

It took everything she had not to jump when his hand landed gently on her shoulder. She hadn’t realized he’d gotten so close and so quickly. Damn that man and his freakishly long legs. 

His touch was firm but not demanding; pleading her to turn and face him but not forcing the matter. “Rosie,” he whispered, “Please. I’m sorry. I completely lost track of time. I’m so sorry. I’m a complete ass and I know I don’t deserve it but please, please don’t walk away.” 

She whirled around, her frustration burning clearly on her features. She saw no need to try to hide it. “Why Tom? Give me a reason why I should be wasting anymore of my time waiting for you?” 

Tom flinched at her words before whispering, “Because I don’t want to make the same mistake twice. I pushed you away once and I’ve regretted it every day since. I just want a chance to make it right.” 

Rosemary stared in stunned disbelief. She shook her head, to clear it, and pushed past Tom. Arrogant son of a... 

He hastily reached out his hand, halting her progress. “Wait, please.” Relief flooded his face when she did. “I know you are angry with me and you have every right to be. And I know that I don’t have a reason that won’t sound like I’m trying to make excuses.” Rosemary narrowed her eyes but remained where she stood, waiting for him to continue. “I got caught up in a meeting with Luke and completely lost track of time. I’m an idiot and I fucked up. I’m sorry. Please just give me a chance to fix this.” 

She sighed in resignation. “You keep saying you’re sorry, Tom, but you keep doing this. You make me promises and then you turn around and break them. You ask me to trust you and go and give me reasons why I shouldn’t.” She paused and shook her head. She hadn’t meant to unload on him, and certainly not in such a public setting. “You keep asking for chances, Tom, and you keep blowing them. And I don’t know if I’m willing to waste another on you. Maybe that’s not fair, but I don’t know if I can keep doing this with you.” 

Tom smiled grimly. “You are absolutely right. And I know it’s not fair to you either. I don’t have any excuse for my behavior. I keep hurting you and I don’t mean to. Please believe that I don’t mean it. All I’m asking is you for you please just give me a half an hour of your time. Let me try to fix this, please.” He held his hands up, desperation clear in his eyes. “Just have a quick meal with me. Or a coffee if you’d prefer. Just give me thirty minutes.” 

This is a bad idea, her mind screamed. Just leave. Don’t let him pull you in again. It’s not worth it. But she stood rooted, watching the pleading look in his eyes. 

With a resigned sigh she spoke. “Thirty minutes, Tom.” 

A small, hopeful smile spread across his face, “Thank you.” 

                                                       —

They sipped their respective coffees in silence. Tom had chosen a table in the corner of the small coffee shop, hiding them away from the bustle of busy Londoner’s feeding their caffeine addictions. Rosemary watched Tom as he watched her but neither spoke. She had expected him to bombard her with reasons and excuses for his actions as soon as they had settled. He’d been so keen to get her to stay and to listen. The fact that he wasn’t talking unnerved her. 

With decision she placed her nearly empty mug onto the lacquered table and folded her hands in her lap. “You said last night you wanted to explain so explain.” 

Tom placed his own mug down and straightened the hem of his sweater before speaking. “Yes.” He quickly picked up how mug, taking another sip of his coffee. “I told you last night that I got called in for unexpected reshoots right after we talked in the shop.” 

Rosemary nodded, fussing with her own sweater. His nervousness, it appeared, was catching. 

“I should have called you straight away,” he began again in earnest.  “Let you know what was happening. But I honestly didn’t think it would take more than a few days. But things happened and before I knew it near a week had passed. The mobile reception was poor at the best of times and when all was said and done and I got home and settled it had been well past what I’d promised you. And I knew I didn’t have a good excuse for not calling. I should have called then but I didn’t.  And the longer I waited the harder it was to justify.” He shrugged helplessly. “I had fucked things up with you enough. But I couldn’t just say nothing so…” 

Rosemary took a deep breath and grabbed her coffee mug from the table, taking a large sip of her rapidly cooling latte. “If you had just called when you got home. Hell even a text. Something. I would have understood. I know I have my moments, but I’m not completely irrational…” 

“I know you’re not, Rosie. I never thought that you were,” he assured, tentatively reaching out a hand to her. She watched him cautiously but did not stop him. Tom took her hand and gently squeezed it in his. “And I should have done something, I know that. But at the time…I wasn’t thinking. I was angry with myself and I just didn’t think. It’s not an excuse but it’s all I have.”   

“And today?” 

She watched him critically. He’d already given her his reasons for their futile lunch meeting; she refused to call it a date no matter that the only person who would know she had was her, but in light of his candor she wondered if that story would change. And if it did what she would do. 

“I really was in a meeting with Luke,” he started. He locked his gaze on hers, blue eyes shining with the need for her to believe him. To listen. And she did so, grudgingly. “Things ran over and instead of calling I just panicked and tried to run here as fast as I could. I saw you leaving and I knew I’d bollocks it up again. I’m an idiot and I am truly sorry.” 

Rosemary didn’t utter a word for several minutes, her gaze darting from Tom to the table and back again. She could hear the pleading sincerity that he’d imbued his words with, but still she could not let herself fully believe them. She had believed them so often in the past and it had never ended well, for either of them. 

Frustration warred with longing. She loved him still, wanted desperately to believe that he meant it when he told her he wanted to be there, to make an effort with her. But yet again his actions spoke of a different and at the same time all too familiar tune. He hurt her in the past and seemed to fall back into that pattern so easily. She couldn’t let herself go through that again. Not now. 

“I hear what you are saying, Tom,” she began, willing herself to remain calm, “But it’s a little bit shit. You say you want to be a part of my life but then you go and pull the same shit you’ve always pulled. I don’t think I want to go through that again. It’s tiring.” She grabbed her purse from the floor beside her chair. “You say that you’re sorry but your actions say something altogether different and right now I cannot deal with that.” 

Without waiting for his response, she walked towards the café’s door and into the weak afternoon sunlight. 

                                                           __

 “Another glass?”

Jules held up the half empty wine bottle at Rosemary, shaking it lightly, her eyebrow raised in amused question. The living room had been overrun with various blankets, take-away bags and bottles of wine. The television was on, the movie playing all but forgotten. 

Rosemary handled her glass over without a moment’s hesitation. “Yes, please.” 

“You know,” Jules pointed out, filling Rosemary’s glass nearly to the brim and handing it back. “We are very much going to regret this come morning,” 

She accepted it with a snort, “Probably. But fuck it.” 

“Fuck it,” Jules echoed with a smirk, draining her own glass. 

Rosemary had shown up at Jules’ front door, two bottles of wine in hand, several hours before seeking a little levity to the mess her afternoon had been. After she’d left the coffee shop, Rosemary had practically ran back to the store, startling Max and subsequently Hanna, who hadn’t expected her back for another forty minutes at least. She hadn’t said much, simply thrown herself into the back office and tried to lose herself in the growing piles of paperwork. And it had worked, for a time, but soon enough her concentration began to falter. She’d snapped at Hanna when she’d popped her head into the office with a customer query. At that point Rosemary knew she needed to leave. She’d apologized profusely to Hanna and made a beeline for the nearest Tesco Metro and its wine selection. 

Jules had taken one look at Rosemary and pulled her inside with opened arms. Wine bottles were opened and food was ordered in quick succession. It had taken several glasses and half a container of shrimp lo mein for Rosemary to relax enough to let the day spill out in relatively coherent, if not stilted, bursts. 

Once started, she found it difficult to stop; her anger and confusion bolstered by the alcohol that flooded her system. Was she really such a doormat that Tom felt he could walk all over her? The idea bristled. He’d all but waltzed back into her life, charming and handsome as ever, and pleaded for a place in it. And the second she’d agreed he disappeared only to come back and plead again. Wash, rinse, repeat. It was pathetic. Why couldn’t she seem to learn? 

Jules had nodded in understanding. Rosemary knew that her friend harbored little affection for Tom, she’d made it perfectly clear. But never once did she say ‘I told you so’ and for that Rosemary was profoundly grateful. 

“Fuck him,” Jules stated in a matter of fact tone as she refilled both of their glasses. 

Her glass raised in salute, Rosemary flashed a sardonic grin on her face. “That was always the problem.” She stifled a giggle as Jules snorted into her wine glass. “What? It’s true. If I hadn’t fucked him I wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.” 

“But you didn’t know that going in,” Jules indicated with a shake of her head. “Hell, I practically shoved you at him. And for that I am profoundly sorry.” 

With a wave of her hand, Rosemary dismissed Jules’ remark. “I’m pretty sure I threw myself into that one all on my own. But whatever, we could argue it for days and get nowhere.” She took a gulp of wine before continuing, gesturing vaguely. “Besides, it’s not like you didn’t warn me that this would happen.” 

Jules placed her glass onto the coffee table, smiling softly at her friend.  She reached out and rubbed Rosemary’s shoulder in affection. “Has he tried calling again?” 

Rosemary shook her head, “No, thank god. I don’t think that would have ended well at all.” 

“Oh ho now?” Jules quirked an eyebrow and grabbed her glass from the table once more, taking several sips. “Do tell.” 

Bolstering herself with another gulp of wine, Rosemary let out a soft laugh and shook her head. “Because with where my head’s been since this afternoon, I don’t think I have the ability to fake any sort of patience.” 

“Like he deserves anymore of your patience. Just call the bastard and tell him off once and for all.”   

Rosemary shook her head violently. “No. No. No. No very, very bad idea. Anger plus alcohol plus phones equals massively stupid, terrible idea.” She’d seen enough films to know how that scenario would end. And with all that had happened between them…No, best to let that lie. 

Jules didn’t look convinced, however, the thoughts that swirled in her green eyes were nothing short of troubling. Rosemary groaned, sensing this argument was far from over. Jules with an idea was like a dog with a particularly juicy bone. Nothing good could come of it.   

Noticing that their current bottle was long since finished, Jules stumbled, albeit gracefully, the nerve, into the kitchen for another. Rosemary leaned back against the cushioned back of the couch with a contented and closed her eyes. She felt a pleasant buzz thrumming through her, not quite drunk yet but very much on her way. Her limbs felt heavy and a tranquility that wasn’t wholly natural filled her. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Jules lectured, shoving her arm none too gently against Rosemary’s shoulder to rouse her. “If I’m going down in a blaze of hangover glory tomorrow then you’re going down with me. Now up!” She thrust a now full wine glass into Rosemary’s hand and dropped herself back into the couch, giggling. 

Rosemary drank dutifully, noting that she was definitely getting far too old for such nights and finding that she did not care a whit at the moment. She would pay for it come morning, that she knew with a startling certainty, but for the moment she would let herself bathe in the false bliss brought on by the wine.

 “You know,” Jules slurred over hour later, nearly spilling the remnants of her glass onto Rosemary’s top as she gestured wildly. “You should call him and tell him what an ass he is.” The two had polished off a further bottle and a half of wine while talking. Tom’s name had come up more and more frequency and with less and less charity.

Rosemary blinked in confusion, trying to make sense of her friend’s words. Something about the idea seemed…off and in her, admittedly, impaired state she couldn’t quite remember why. Tom was an ass; that she firmly believed. Maybe telling him so would drive the point home to him. He kept pestering her for chances and then walked all over her. Maybe it was time she told him just where he could stick his need to fix whatever the fuck laid between them. “That,” she agreed, “Is a very good idea.”

Her purse, however, was on the floor by the front door and that seemed so very far away. And she needed her phone to tell Tom he was an ass. With determination, Rosemary pushed herself to her feet, trying to desperately ignore the way the room seemed to tilt ever so slightly to the left. It took her several tries to dig her phone from the depths of her bag and several more to unlock it and find Tom’s number in her recent call log. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, she selected the number and hit ‘dial’.

Next Chapter

[aethersea]

Must Have Caught A Good Look At You

Part two! @yw84fun your tags on part one have kept me going and are the reason I finished at all, thank you so much and I’m sorry for the wait

part one | on ao3

Tori knew who it was long before the knock sounded at the door, but he jumped anyway. He’d honestly been expecting her to float through the wall, or just appear behind him and give him a heart attack. But she knocked, and Tori jumped, and when he stood and answered the door it was as a man walks to the gallows, back straight and chest hollow.

She was the wrong age. He’d been too out of it to notice before, but it was the first thing he noticed now. He’d figured they’d still be twins, since she clearly wasn’t eight anymore, but she looked barely seventeen. She was thin, too, almost rangy, her cheekbones razor-sharp under her silver eyes. Tori wondered if this was what she’d looked like when she died – if she’d somehow survived when their father threw her out in the middle of that unholy storm, and then lived for years and years on the road, alone.

Tori had been fifteen when he fled in the dark of night and caught the first Greyhound out of the latest nameless town. He’d been so convinced she was dead already. He could have found her, helped her, but he hadn’t even thought to search.

“Hello, Tori,” she said softly. Her expression was shuttered in the way that meant, Tori remembered without meaning to, that she was hurt, and hiding it.

“Hello,” Tori said. He was pleased to note his voice didn’t shake. “Would you like to come inside?”

She blinked in surprise, but when Tori stepped aside to let her pass, she drifted into his apartment without a word.

Tori shut the door behind her and realized he didn’t know what to do next. He was suddenly conscious of the mess – papers strewn across the kitchen table, yesterday’s takeout cartons scattered in front of the television, blankets and cushions in a sprawl across the floor – and at the same time, of the sort of luxury they had only dreamed of as kids. The TV was a flatscreen, with two separate gaming consoles underneath it – they were his flatmates’, not his, but she wouldn’t know that. He had an actual kitchen, a soft couch flanked by huge armchairs, curtains on the windows and plants along the windowsills. No damp stains on the ceiling, no mold growing by the sink, no weird smells – well, apart from the faint aroma of peanut butter chicken drifting over from the takeout cartons. As children, this was what they’d thought paradise looked like. For the first time in years, Tori was embarrassed by how spoiled he’d let himself get.

She stopped by the sofa, black-gloved fingers reaching out but not quite touching the blanket thrown across the back of it, and turned, taking in the apartment. She’d lost that permanent jut to her jaw she’d had as a kid, like she was challenging the world to a fistfight at all times; now she was wary, distant, with all the coiled strength and thoughtless grace of a mountain cat. Tori couldn’t take his eyes off her. His heart was twisting in his chest at the painful familiarity of her face, for all she was nine years too old and nine years too young all at once. It was the same face he saw in the mirror – slimmer, whether from youth or hunger or death or just genetics, and of course bare of the stubble he’d neglected to shave in these past few weeks of denying his dreams, but still his echo, down to the hunted, haunted look that lurked in the back of both their eyes. There was some part of him that looked at that face and wanted to cry, or maybe throw his arms around her and never let go.

When she finally met his gaze, her silver eyes were filled with some emotion Tori couldn’t name. “It’s been a long time,” she said softly.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, not knowing what else to do with them. “You died.” His voice broke on the words, and Tori didn’t know if they were an apology or an excuse.

She flinched, as if startled, and her face shuttered. She smiled, and it didn’t reach her eyes. “Guess it didn’t take.”

He smiled back at her, painfully. There was a knot of grief climbing up his throat, devouring any words he might have thought to say in return.

It mixed sourly with the fear that already thrummed with every breath. He’d hunted enough ghosts to know that they never came back unless they had a goal, one so all-consuming that they would claw their way out of the afterlife for it. It was pretty much always revenge.

Twice, he’d let her die – once when they were eight and she’d vanished into the storm, and again when they were fifteen and he’d walked away from Ganth without looking back, not even to look for her. She had ample cause to come for his head. Could he kill her again, with his own hands this time, and still live with himself?

Assuming, of course, that he even had a shot. Tori hadn’t hunted in years, and he’d left his rock-salt gun on the kitchen table, hidden under the mess of papers, like an absolute idiot. Maybe this time she’d be the one who killed him. It was almost, though not quite, a comforting thought.

She stepped forward, one hand reaching out as if to touch him. He still didn’t dare try to name the look on her face. “Tori, I—”

A single alien word cracked through the room, filled with such loathing that Tori was on the balls of his feet with his arms half raised to fight before he realized that it had only sounded in his head.

She dropped into a crouch, a knife appearing in one hand, whirling to face the empty apartment. One arm was flung out, almost as if to keep him back, out of danger. The voice muttered blackly in Tori’s ear, a wave of harsh, rolling syllables that tickled at his understanding. He knew without thinking to wonder how that the voice was talking about her.

Tori saw the moment when she realized that there was no threat, that there was nothing for Tori to flinch at but her. Her shoulders sagged, minutely, and her head dipped forward. He heard the soft huff of breath she let out, something between a sigh and a laugh. The muttering voice mimicked it, mocking.

She drew herself up slowly, the knife vanishing to wherever it had come from, and carefully squared her shoulders before turning to face him once more. This time her eyes were empty of emotion. She fixed her gaze on his left shoulder and said in a flat voice, “I came to tell you that our father’s dead. I figured you should hear it from me.”

Tori blinked, and struggled with the sentence. It didn’t seem to fit inside his head all at once. Ganth, dead – it was an impossibility, like gravity deciding to take a day off. Their father had always seemed an unquestionable fact of the universe, as immortal as the sun. He was just a man, Tori knew that intellectually, but at the same time it had never occurred to him that this meant he would someday die – sooner rather than later, probably, considering his chosen line of work.

“That’s…not all,” she continued, and now a tremor crept into her voice. “Winter’s dead, too. Her bar is—I had to—to burn them, I—”

Everything went strangely still. Brittle whispers rose in Tori’s ears. Winter’s dead. If Ganth’s death was an impossibility, Winter’s was an abomination. Winter, who had snuck them candy and taught them Latin, who had shown Tori how to garrote a man three times his size and patiently explained the concept of baseball. Winter, dead? It couldn’t happen, in no just world would it happen.

His sister stood in his apartment, the ghost of everything he had tried to leave behind, too old and too young because Tori had let her die so he could build this weak new life for himself. He had long since known that the world was not just.

The whispers were in no language Tori had ever heard, and he remained convinced he had no chance of understanding them even if he’d wanted to. But for a moment that conviction faltered, and he heard their meaning clear as day: She will burn down everything your life has touched, and you will watch it all screaming from the grave she puts you in.

Ice shivered down his spine. She didn’t seem to notice, looking down at her feet rather than at him. “There were twenty-three people in the bar,” she said after a steadying breath, with the air of someone delivering a report, “all of them dead. I made a list.” She pulled a small notebook out of her back pocket and laid it gently on the table, atop the mess of papers. “I didn’t know some of them, but I’ve been trying to draw their faces from memory in case you do.”

Tori stared at the notebook. It was thin, flimsy even, clearly a cheap thing that she’d picked up at a gas station somewhere. It was a drab lime green, the sort of color you don’t choose unless the other options are worse. And it was resting solidly on top of a precariously interleaved stack of half-graded exams. Tori was nearly sure he’d seen the papers sag slightly under its weight.

For all a ghost could kill you, no ghost could do that. Alien voices rustled in his ears, telling him that she was something more, something worse, but Tori fixed his eyes on the notebook and convinced himself once more that he couldn’t understand them.

She shoved her hands in her pockets, awkwardly, and Tori’s attention flicked back to her at the movement. She peeked up at his face, and whatever she saw there made her set her jaw. She turned in a slow circle, looking over his apartment. Tori watched her, silent, unwilling to put words to the dilemma swirling in his gut. Then with one last quick, sad glance at Tori, she strode briskly to the door.

Panic rose in Tori’s throat, sharper than the hissing whispers. He had let her die twice already. “Jame,” he said, a strangled cry, and it was like a dam breaking. Tori took a half-step toward her, one hand reaching out unbidden. The voices in his head screamed, furious and afraid.

Jame turned to look at him, a disbelieving frown creasing that painfully familiar face. One hand rested lightly on the doorknob – she was already so close to being gone, and this time, Tori knew, she would not come back.

Then, eyes wide and liquid with something unnameable, she stepped forward, closing the distance between them.

Tori skated his fingers across her cheek and she was real, solid and warm, alive and impossible and here. “Jame,” he said again, his soul breaking on the word. “I’ve missed you.”

[minaminokyoko]

A ‘Justice League’ Rant

Foreword

Alright, DC fans. Before you light your torches and grab your Aquaman pitchforks and set off a rousing chorus of "Kill the Beast" when you read my review/rant, I am going to attempt to set the mood and explain myself. Some of you won't care. Some of you won't even read the whole thing before you jump onto your keyboards and proclaim that I'm just a stupid girl who doesn't understand comic books and comic book movies and that the Justice League movie is great and it's better than all the Marvel movies.

Let me stop you right there. 

This ain't about the Marvel movies.

This is about DC and Warner Bros and filmmaking in general.

I don't have it out for DC/WB. I don't have it out for the DCEU. This anger and disappointment is not a result of the 20+ Marvel Cinematic Universe's successful run. This anger and disappointment comes from deep inside a little girl who at the tender age of six or seven first realized what kind of person she wanted to be when she saw Batman: Mask of the Phantasm for the first time. One of my earliest memories was seeing the pain and torment that Bruce Wayne went through after he fell in love with Andrea and he wanted so desperately for it to be okay that he loved her and that he didn't want to keep his promise anymore. I have loved DC since I was old enough to love anything. I love Batman so much that I have his symbol tattooed on my right shoulder. Dead serious. He is my guiding light and he has been since I was six years old.

So, once more, I want you to understand that the reason I hate the Justice League movie is not because I dislike DC.

The reason I hate the Justice League movie is that the Justice League movie hates me.

This movie is hollow. It is a hollow farce. It took six of the most beloved characters in fictional history and stripped them of all the reasons why they have been beacons of entertainment since their inception and plastered them on a cheap ass green screen and shoved it out into the world to make a quick buck. There was no passion, no heart, and no creativity in this film. It doesn't have an original thought in its damn head. Not one. Everything I saw was something I've seen before elsewhere, and it was done better elsewhere. If you don't believe me, fine. Let's go point-by-point. I will fully explain every reason why I almost demanded my money back after sitting through this poisonous flick.

-The plot is so unbelievably thin you couldn't stretch it farther than a couple of inches. Forgetting the fact that Batman vs. Superman was one of the worst films ever, picking up where it left off somehow just made it hurt even worse since we had to acknowledge the fact that it exists and then have to build another plot from the resulting shitstorm. So we begin with Crazy Steve (Note: I refuse to call him Batman or Bruce Wayne, because BatAffleck is neither. He in no way represents any Batman other than Linkara's epithet Crazy Steve from his reviews.) catching a  burglar (with a literal sack of stolen shit on his back, like he's a fucking crook from the 1950's or something) and then a parademon appears and he kills it. So...first of all, was Crazy Steve there for the crook and the parademon just happened to be there? Or was Crazy Steve there for the parademon and he just used the crook? That makes absolutely no sense. Those two things didn't need to be there together. It's a plot contrivance of the highest order.  It was also unnecessary as fuck. You could have just had Crazy Steve on patrol and he saw the demon, caught it, and then it died. After seeing this, the jump from 'hey, a weird alien’ to 'ZOMG WE GOTTA GET THE BAND BACK TOGETHER' is liable to give you fucking whiplash. Crazy Steve immediately jumps to "putting a team together" when he has such little evidence of the calamity, and it's even more absurd since Crazy Steve has NO experience working with a team. At most, Jason Todd existed at some point, but that's it. He doesn't know anything about metahumans aside from maybe what Amanda Waller mentioned to him at the end of the equally abysmal Suicide Squad. Further more, he just starts trying to collect these people without explaining why they should just arbitrarily trust a man they just fucking met who dresses up like a giant fucking bat. I mean, would you? Really? Especially knowing that he tried to kill Superman on incredibly flimsy reasoning? How do you know he won't immediately turn on you if you turn your head and cough and seem like a threat to him? Crazy Steve had no way of knowing aside from Diana that any of these people were stable enough to form a team and try to fight an unknown enemy. It was so rushed. He just whisks them away and doesn't blink at revealing his secret identity to four perfect fucking strangers (though Diana arguably doesn't count; she's much more level-headed and hasn't shown a propensity for losing it at the slightest provocation.)

-There is no team dynamic. At all. It's just a room full of superpowered people. The closest thing to a relationship is between Crazy Steve and Wondy, and even then, they maybe have three whole fucking conversations, and none of them are beyond superficial. It's like the movie was afraid of making an actual development, so it just kept throwing inane quips around in the hopes of distracting you from the fact that there are no characters. The whole reason the Justice League itself as a concept excites me is because you have this room full of colorful personalities with different backgrounds who come together for the common good and want to help mankind and protect the innocent. We don't know barely anyone's motivations because this movie is running off the fumes of a bad sequel. We know Wonder Woman's motivations for the most part, but having the JLA movie before her sequels still leaves a large piece of the mythos missing because we don't know how she adjusted to modern life. We don't know if she lost faith in humanity again or where she stands because we were still in the 1940's when we last saw her. Cyborg's backstory is mentioned, but his motivations are also non-existent. We get the whole "I'm a monster" thing but they immediately move on from any possible origin or explanation of what he's going through and what he wants to do since he's got these abilities but could be seen as a freak to normal people. The Flash also got a driveby explanation, but again, without prior films or history, we basically have to guess what motivates him. I know Barry Allen because I'm a comic book fan, but your average person may not. It's completely unfair to them that you just jump from place to place without explaining how Barry got his speed, why his father's in jail, and why he just jumped at the chance to fight crime despite the fact that he doesn't know how to fucking fight apparently. It's so discourteous to the character to slap him in there and not tell us why. Why does he want to help anyone if he's scared? Why isn't he insanely rich by now from the various ways he could use his speed? And then, fuck me, Aquaman is the worst of the bunch. They make no attempts to explain anything about his background. Who is the red-haired lady? I know it's Mera because again, I am a comic book fan, but the chances that your average moviegoer knows are astronomical, and so they get to sit there completely confused about who she is and what she can do and what she means to Arthur. We don't know why Arthur was just chilling out around that one village and why he gave a single shit about humanity or how he got his powers or just...anything! Anything at all! Other than he's really mouthy and has a nice chest. Look, I might be able to overlook the depressing lack of explanation, but none of these characters bond with each other or have any reasons to care about one another. There are no human aspects to them because the only one so far who has been fully explored as a character aside from Wonder Woman is Crazy Steve. Crazy Steve got some development in BvS, but certainly not enough for you to emotionally connect with him because he was a revenge hungry psychopath in the previous film. The entire fucking point of the League is to see these interesting people butt heads, but then laugh and get along with each other and get ready to protect their home from threats. Here, they're just doing what Crazy Steve tells them to do because...reasons.

-Superman's resurrection. Holy fucking shit. I just spent the last twenty minutes ranting about this to one of my friends. Where do I even start with how goddamn stupid this shit is? It comes out of fucking nowhere. After this hastily slapped together team fights Steppenwolf one time, Crazy Steve in true Crazy Steve fashion decides that we should disgrace the dead and bring Superman back. Crazy Steve has no fucking idea how the Motherbox works. None. He has done no research, he has no knowledge of Kryptonian technology, nor is he at all aware of Darkseid and the New Gods' technology. But he's like, "Nah, bruh, we all suck and we need Superman." As an aside, I am really angry at how this movie is sucking that Kryptonian cock too. How dare you. How dare you imply that these badass heroes who were doing just fine on their own in the comics and animated shows need Superman like he's their fucking babysitter. Maybe if you had established the team dynamic and established the characters, they'd be able to fight better. Crazy Steve took one fucking look at the team that had been together a grand total of like four fucking hours and decided they were all gonna die without Superman's help. It's not only reckless and poorly thought out, it's honestly insulting. It's insulting that Crazy Steve would drag Kal El from heaven (because, for real, it's entirely possible he was in literal paradise and you sorry motherfuckers took him away from his parents and his loved ones of Krypton for your selfish asses) just on the assumption that the team wasn't strong enough. My God. I am just floored by this development in the movie. It pisses me off that the movie just shrugs and acts like it was for the best to spit in the face of God and drag Kal back to earth. Maybe you shouldn't have killed him in the first fucking place, you shitlords. And it's more frustrating to me since in the comics, after DC panicked and wrote in the "regenerative coma" that they didn't just use that instead. I'd be less angry if they introduced the idea that he was never dead to begin with, but in the death-like coma. It's a cop out, but it's better than literally Frankensteining Superman from heaven to fight your fucking battle for you.

-The dialogue is painful. So painful. It is so tacked on. I went to the theater tonight at 3:50pm and I'd say there was maybe 20-25 people in there and they laughed twice. You heard me. Twice. That was an almost two hour movie, and the audience only laughed twice. Hell, I only laughed once, and it was at the end credits scene where Superman jokes that The Flash is off the team if he loses. That was the only genuine line that I heard out of this movie. It's so apparent that the studio was trying to course correct the film away from the drab, hopeless "vision" of Zack Snyder. It doesn't work. The humor misses by a mile because it's just so awkward. These versions of the heroes take themselves way too seriously, or the quips are directed at the wrong characters. Aquaman is introduced pretty much as a dumb dudebro with a devil-may-care attitude. His snarky dialogue is fine, but when you try to have Crazy Steve the focus of a joke, it falls flat since he's a killer and an asshole and the levity doesn't feel right. There's a little tingle on the back of your neck from how awkward it is when someone makes a joke and then there's this awkward silence afterward because the movie assumes you need a minute to laugh. No, movie. No. If you want a joke to land, you need either timing or context. Pointing out the fact that Crazy Steve wears a batsuit isn't inherently funny. You need context. The "I'm rich" line is a better example of a joke that should have landed, but didn't because it was in the trailer. That has context. That is humor. Just having The Flash say things out loud that he sees isn't funny. Having him be awkward around Crazy Steve isn't funny because the two of them don't know each other and Crazy Steve is mostly straight-faced and so the lines slide off of him like dung. Diana is a better example, as she gives off a very warm presence. For example, Cyborg remarking that Diana needed to keep the merman off him almost landed because the two of them have at least held a conversation and so it feels natural that he might finally make a joke around her. It also landed better because Diana is definitely the only one who appears to have a heart. Everything else is just a vain attempt to lighten the mood, but it just clashes with the deadly serious tone everything else is shot with.

-Not explaining the mythology. Jesus Christ. I'm one of those people who believes that you cannot make a film and just sneer at your audience and go, "Oh, just read the comics if you want to know what's going on!" No. You are not allowed to do that. Film is not an add on. In a film, you are charged with telling a comprehensive story with characters who develop and change over the course of their adventure. That is storytelling 101, and this movie utterly fails. It does just like Suicide Squad where it just starts throwing names at you and not telling you who anyone is with the assumption that "only comic book nerds are watching this anyway" or "well, there are only children watching and they don't care to know who everyone is, they just want to see things get smashed." Wrong. You are wrong. We don't know Steppenwolf, we don't know Darkseid, we don't Apocalypse, we don't know Lanterns, we don't know Atlantis, we don't know jackshit as an audience! And yet they just jam all these names down your throat and expect you to be able to pay attention when you have about ninety thousand questions in your head during the course of the fucking movie. Films should find common ground with the audience. Some mystery is good. Throwing in small cameos or references can feel like a nice garnish to the mythology, but this movie just glosses over everything and thinks it's fine. None of this stuff has been established aside from Krypton and Kryptonian technology. You're doing everyone a disservice by refusing to lay the foundation for the villain and the premise of the plot.

-The effects are mostly atrocious. Out of everything I've cited here, this makes the least amount of sense to me. This is WB, for God's sake. Time Warner. You have all the money in the fucking world and this is the best you can do? I mean, the Dark Knight trilogy alone should have you funded for every superhero movie for the next ten years, and yet we get Henry Cavill's Uncanny Valley mouth as a result of the childish fucking dispute over his mustache, we get CGI that looks like it's from the goddamn Spawn movie at times, and then every single thing is shot from an obvious green/blue room that it feels like the fucking Phantom Menace all over again. I never felt like anything they were doing was real. I mean, to me, it felt like the only set in the whole fucking movie was the Batcave. They are so obviously on a soundstage the entire time and none of the backgrounds blend, and they don't even bother with smaller things like having the wind blow or the colors change or the shadows move to trick your brain into accepting the CGI. Oh, and why Digi-Bat? I'm flabbergasted as to why 80% of Crazy Steve's scenes are digital. He's the non-powered team member. Why wasn't it just a stunt guy? Was Ben Affleck really that fat and lazy that he didn't want to do any fight scenes? It was like watching a freaking PlayStation 1 game whenever he fought someone. My guess is that this project got rushed after shooting and reshoots and so instead of going over the effects with a fine toothed comb and adding layers onto them so that the scenes felt real, they just gave up and only touched them up. Now, I'm not talking about things like Cyborg where it was a front and center integrated effect. Even though I still hate his design (to me, he looks like a Black Ken doll head on a Terminator body), I believed he was there and moving around. Aside from him, though? Nah, bruh. I didn't believe anyone was doing anything.

-The fight scenes were worthless. Again, I'm confused as to how this was even logistically possible. Let's recap: we've got a guy who can run faster than the speed of sound,  a dude who can swim on top of Great White Sharks and punch craters into the ocean floor, a kid who has rocket boots and an arm cannon, a woman who can deflect bullets and shoot sonic blasts with her bracelets, a guy who can shoot lasers, fly, use ice breath, run faster than a speeding bullet, and is stronger than anything ever, and lastly a man who knows every martial arts style known to man on top of having a belt with endless nifty gadgets on it. Put that all together. You should be shitting amazing fight scenes, and yet everything last one of them was bland and forgettable. The true lack of passion in the film is what is on display with these boring fight scenes. It's so repetitive. Aquaman throws his pitchfork. Wondy swings her sword or hits her bracelets together. Batman swings. Flash runs and pushes. Superman punches. That's it. Are you fucking kidding me? I can name about a thousand different cool scenarios that we could have seen with these unique powers, and yet we saw the same moves with no creativity to them. Want an example? I personally thought the Wonder Woman movie was just okay, but I at least commend them for using her agility and her invulnerability properly to create excellent visuals for how powerful and capable she is. She smashes. She grabs and throws and uses combat techniques that a warrior race would know. It is very clear when she fights that someone gave a shit and wanted to make you feel like you were a part of the action and to give you something stunning to look at. Granted, I wasn't stunned because I've seen better, but if Wonder Woman had come out in the 90's before I had seen better, then it would have blown my socks off. The JLA movie's fight scenes are tired as hell and like the movie itself, it feels like they are just checking shit off a list. It's an afterthought. There's so little effort involved, and it matches the overall tired tone I was getting out of it all. I want to believe in these heroes. I want to be dazzled by them. I want to be inspired by them. I want the feeling I used to get when I watched the Nolan trilogy--where I knew Bruce Wayne as a character and as a person and I knew his limitations and his passion and his drive, but I also know how and when he was gonna kick some ass and that I was going to be able to enjoy the different creative ways I got to watch him kick some ass. Justice League does not have any of that vigor or wonder or splendor to its fight scenes. They are as thoughtless and calculated as the rest of the movie felt. You want examples? Pop in the first few episodes of the Justice League animated series. I implore you to sit down and watch the way that the team came together, even though we had the history of Batman and Superman previously. Then I want you to move forward to Justice League Unlimited. Watch those. Watch how they use their powers and personalities to not only provide fun, colorful, exciting fight sequences, but how the chemistry between the team members enhances the urgency of the fight and the overall enjoyment of the fight. That's what this movie is missing.

I can write another five pages' worth of criticism, but when I boil everything down to a single point it is this--the Justice League movie is a rushed, soulless attempt to cash in by manipulating the fans into accepting the massive lowering of their standards in our post-Dark Knight Trilogy years of DC/WB.

And I am begging the fans who have done this, accepted this movie and put on blinders to its problems simply because you love DC and you want to say that they made a good movie, please stop it.

I'm not saying you're wrong for enjoying it. If you did, good for you. But what I want you to do is stop letting them play you in this fashion. Because that's what they're doing. They know your heart. They know you have characters that you love that you want to see on the silver screen because they are important to you for whatever reason, and so you are purposely ignoring massive flaws so that you can enjoy what they are sloppily slapping into your eyeballs. I'm saying that you deserve the effort. You are worth the effort of making a movie worthy of these heroes we all love so much. I just want you to know that. You deserve a movie where everyone has a storyline and is developed. You deserve a storyline where the plot makes sense and the team has chemistry and a reason to be a team in the first place. Don't lower your standards so that this movie glides above them. Hold it to the right standards and demand that they do better next time. Don't give them a passing grade. You do have other options. You have the animated films, you have the television shows, you have comic books by the bucketload, and you can make a difference and demand that the filmmakers do these characters justice (cue rimshot) by telling them that this movie is a disappointment and refraining from going to see it again or from buying the DVD. Money talks. Hollywood will laugh off reviews, but that box office shock gets them every time. After all, even though the jokes were last second and tacked on, the fact that we all hated BvS made them change something to try to course correct. You did that. You made a difference. And you can do it again. You can help force them to give you the movie you deserve. You should want that. You should want that for yourself and I want that for you as well.

So if you gotta fight me, fight me. Fine. I'll rebutt you to the ends of the earth if you feel the need to go that far. I'm not trying to trash a thing you love. I love it too and I want them to put some fucking effort into these films and make them as amazing as they should be.

Until that time...I guess come at me, bro.

[keepersreprise]

“ANNABELLE” REVIEW

31 Days of Tarot Halloween - Day 3

Card: XIII Union

For Day Three of my horror/thriller movie marathon, I decided on a film that I had never seen, but had heard quite a bit about. I in fact, incidentally procured a movie poster of it several years ago, after being locked out of the theater, and let back in by an attendant (who gave me the poster). So I felt obligated to add this one to my list.

…and I regret it.

When Annabelle was first announced to an eager audience that had visions of a modern day Child’s Play, I was as excited as I was apprehensive.

And, as it turns out, for good reason.

Child’s Play this movie is most certainly not. It lacks the grittiness and dark atmosphere that the posters and trailers promised us. The movie receives some merit for being based off a legend of a doll of the same name, that is currently sealed behind a glass box at the Warrens Occult Museum in Monroe, Connecticut; owned by demonologists Ed and Lorraine Warren.

The doll came into the possession of a nurse in the 70s, who felt malicious intent seeping from it like a festering wound. A psychic proclaimed it was possessed by a woman named Annabelle Higgins. Of course, this has been met with much skepticism for the popularized possessed doll trope. Which I think possibly stems from the strange, almost haunting appearance of antique porcelain dolls.

The film is a prequel to the Conjuring series, which I was unaware of (despite the movie cover smacking me in the face with it). It was produced by Peter Safran, directed by John R. Leonetti (I’m sure these names mean something to someone), and distributed by Warner Bros. Pictures.

OVERVIEW

Annabelle begins as most horror flicks do (disappointingly un-Child’s Play like) with a peaceful introduction to the characters. It opens with a married couple sitting in a church, listening to the priest’s sermon. Now admittedly, I should have known that this movie would follow the same hard-beaten path of possession-based movies that is their foundation.

Doll is possessed, the Devil is involved, there’s something creepy and evil lurking about, a priest gets involved but the priest fails, and people die before everyone is saved.

Till the next time of course.

It’s a very standard formula this film sticks to like a fly in a honey trap. And that’s fine. That’s not the major problem I have with Annabelle.

My major problem was that it brought nothing new to the table. And I could never figure out where the Rated R scenes were located. Was I too distracted by the sunny smiles of John and Mia Form’s (Ward Horton and Annabelle Wallis; I’m not making that up. The main character is played by an actress named Annabelle) perfect little lives and ideal, gouge-out-your-heart marriage?

Till that is, their home is broken into by their neighbors’ missing daughter, and she and her “estranged” boyfriend attempt to murder the Forms. The girl - one Annabelle Higgins - commits suicide while holding Mia’s doll, in a most cliche ritualistic fashion.

Naturally traumatized after having been stabbed and almost losing her baby, Mia attempts to rid herself of the doll. But after an incident at their home and the couple move, with newborn baby Leah in tow, the doll reappears amongst their things.

Mia’s decision to keep the doll and face her fears (note I say face, not overcome) is just one of the many flimsy ways that Annabelle tries to sideline the cheap plastic box of tropes this disc came in, while still being pressed right up against it.

THEMES

POSSESSION

I feel obligated to talk about the central theme of the movie first, since it’s most definitely what captured everyone’s intention.

Now, the possessed doll trope is a familiar one. Which isn’t bad. In fact, it’s good. It gives us watchers something to relate to, to get excited for, to compare to. And then…that’s where you run into problems.

Comparison.

I grew up with the Chucky franchise (which admittedly, most of the later ones are pretty bad; looking at you Seed of Chucky), and I’ve seen Dead Silence (which in my opinion, didn’t get enough praise as it should have). And I’ve watched plenty of devil or demon or ghost possessed movies, and so for so popular a movie, I had high expectations for Annabelle. Too high.

The possession element is pretty mundane. The ghost of the mysterious girl Annabelle Higgins haunts both the doll and our too-happy family; subtly at first, and then more forcefully as the film progresses.

The doll moves, doors open and close, furniture is knocked around, people are hurt. Honestly, I don’t have much to say about any of this. If you’ve seen any other possession-based movie than you’ve seen Annabelle.

CULT

What’s a possession movie without the aspect of the Devil and demons for a God-worshipping couple to face?

When I heard a news report of the Manson Family in the background at the film’s start, I thought: “Yeah, okay, it’s been done, but let’s see how they handle it.”

Well, film writer Gary Dauberman (who doesn’t even have a Wikipedia page of his own), didn’t handle it. Not really. We hear a tidbit of the news report, we are told Annabelle Higgins and her boyfriend were members of a cult, but all references to Charles Manson end there. They’re not involved.

Even why or how Annabelle Higgins came to possess the doll isn’t touched upon. There was a small ritual that summoned some weird creature that only appears twice in the film. In reality, the threat isn’t this Devil or demon, it’s Annabelle.

I will give praise where praise is do. Those brief flashes of Annabelle are a nice touch. Not scary, but ominous. The moment when she appears to Mia as a child, then grows into an adult as she attacks her, was intriguing. I can only wish that the ghost of Annabelle could do more. Tease Mia, play upon her motherly instincts, chide her, beguile her, just oh my god, something!

But there’s no depth here. We never learn how Annabelle joined the cult (or even if she was a part of the Manson Family for sure), or what her motives were. Why she murdered her family.

Yep, pretty soon the movie Annabelle is just going to be the ghost of a memory itself.

WHAT IT PROMISES, BUT NEVER DELIVERS

I feel like this deserved to have a category as a theme, because this movie does this quite a bit. A good example is the one I stated above. The mention of the Manson Family and a cult’s devious intentions are never expanded upon.

And it’s not only these two aspects. One of my biggest gripes was the revelation that it was Mia’s soul promised to this Devil/demon (which just looked like a slightly malformed, burned man), and yet I don’t recall a point in the movie this happened.

When its first thought to be the baby Leah’s soul promised, I concluded that the father John must be involved with the cult. Throughout the movie he always seemed a little…off. His smiles a bit too thin, his eyes a bit too bright, even as he’s trying to assure his wife that they can beat this possessed doll. It was awkward. Weird. Suspenseful.

But it wasn’t meant to be. John Form really is the sickeningly understanding, hard-working guy we’re presented with. Nothing nefarious about him. How truly disappointing.

Now let’s talk about the Devil/demon that briefly chases Mia. We see it in two scenes. Two very brief scenes. When she’s in the basement and it lures her with a moving baby carriage, then chases her up the stairs. And then when it’s climbing on her ceiling, and thrusts do-good Evelyn out of the apartment.

And then…it disappears. Our secondary antagonist is nothing but a bully that pushes little kids around on the playground, before getting bored.

The last thing I will discuss in this section (before actually moving on to the theme I’m really supposed to be detailing) is the horror aspect. Possibly the only part I would consider that makes this movie Rated R is when Annabelle and BF (or the Better Forgotten as I’ve dubbed him) attack John and Mia in their home. There’s a little blood, a little violence, and that’s. Really. It.

No mutilated bodies. No nudity. Hell, the scene isn’t even really interesting till we see Annabelle’s blood seeping into the doll’s eye socket. And that’s still rather meh.

“UNION"

Okay at last! I can discuss something positive in this movie!

(And if you truly believed that, you haven’t been entirely paying attention)

There are many examples of Union in Annabelle. Foremost, is the united strength of John and Mia’s love in the face of this new threat to their very ordinary lives. And as can be expected - of course - John is an unbeliever at the beginning (that heathen!). But faced with a hysterical wife and underwhelming evidence (he never really sees anything peculiar himself till the end), he stands vigilant in the face of Annabelle’s ghost. It is through the power of their marriage and the strength of their love…!

Aaaannndddd…I just can’t do this.

While John and Mia’s marriage is a central focal point of the movie, and it is in fact their love that gives them strength to oppose the evil forces working against them, it frankly sickens me. It is the same tale told again, made somewhat eerie by John’s dismissive personality.

Instead I’ll talk about the most obvious case of Union in the film, which is that of Annabelle’s soul and the doll.

I really do wish that the movie had expanded upon this more. Told or - better yet - shown, how Annabelle Higgins knew the ritual necessary for this. Though I suppose that’s what Annabelle: Creation is about (yes…?…please…?). The doll - which was already eerie to begin with - takes on a more sinister appearance as the film progresses.

The skin turns more grey, the blush in its cheeks more pronounced, the smile thinner and more malevolent, the eyes more frightening. We never really see the doll move, not even it’s eyes, which makes it somehow creepier than if we had. While in a way I wish the movie had given a reason for this transformation, I think we’re better off without it.

The last aspect of Union I want to discuss, is that of mother and child. The bond of love that is undeniable.

This connection is very paramount in the movie. It’s Sharon’s Higgins’ daughter that returns home and commits suicide in anticlimactic ritualistic fashion. It’s Mia and her unborn child that the watchers are most concerned for. It’s the memory of her daughter that drives Evelyn to commit suicide in order to save the Form family.

In the start of the film, John worries about what an unborn Leah is exposed to, convinced the outside does in fact, have an effect on his baby. He wants her to come born innocent and carefree. And Mia chooses to uproot her life in thought of her daughter, and to keep the doll (in a moment of eerie behavior I really mistakenly thought was leading somewhere) as a reminder that they must face their fears head on.

There are difficulties, of course. Mia seems detached from her child at times. When Priest Ferez asks for a picture of Leah to welcome the newest member to their church, Mia doesn’t want to be a part of the photo. The priest convinces her, but she remains reluctant.

The why of this is never clearly stated. During an argument with his wife, John suggests she is suffering postpartum depression. An accusation that Mia quickly denies.

And yet there are signs of it. Mia is depressed, craves adult conversation, and yet rarely seeks it. Instead she at one point turns her attention to two children living in the building. At times, when she holds her baby, it is almost as if she is holding a doll (which I wish they had played upon this more).

Yet when Mia fears the summoned creature is after her baby, that almost casual dismissiveness disappears, and we see the true depth of the bond that is between a mother and child.

Mia is completely prepared to leap to her death, to give up her soul, to save her child. And she even does it. But her husband grabs her and tries to reason with her.

And then the watcher sees the revelation that comes over friend Evelyn’s face. She who had lost her daughter Ruby in a car accident. Ruby, who had visited her mother in a dream, saying there was something yet Evelyn had to do.

And with the heart-shaped locket holding the baby picture of Ruby in her hand, she leaps.

To me, Annabelle was less a horror movie, and more so the tale of a conflicted mother and wife, confronted with the diabolical and the unknown. A woman, who has led a happy and ordinary life, is now faced with the most difficult of situations.

The murder of friends, the assault on herself and unborn baby, the deterioration of her marriage, the challenge to her faith, and the test of her love for her child. For the promise of a life greater than her own.

[sonfaro]

Problems I had with Star Wars: The Last Jedi...

So, first: Merry Christmas!   Second...  Saw Star Wars again... SPOILERS, obviously. After second viewing, I still like it, but it's now below the Force Awakens for me in terms of how much I liked it.  This is a complicated metric though, as I think it's a better written movie in some ways than Force Awakens.  It certainly takes more risks, and leaves us in a fresher state story wise than ever before in Star Wars.  However, I still have problems, and this time I wasn't as glossed over by the stuff I hadn't seen before to ignore them.  To be fair, Some of the problems I had with it (Super Leia for example) WERE better the second time, but some things got worse.  This will largely be a rant of the things I didn't like, just because I want to get the negativity out.

Most people are complaining about Canto Bight, and it's understandable - not much of consequence happens there.  However, I think a lot of the Rey/Luke island stuff drags on and doesn't really fit together well either.  Rey repeats some version of "Kylo Ren is evil and we need you to come back" three or four times to Luke.  One of them after Luke has agreed to train her already.  It seemed like a ham fisted means of getting her to talk about the Force as a power for Lukes lesson, but if so there are better ways than repeating information both the audience and Luke know already.  I think that section needed reworking.  The first lesson should have been the one in the cave - how the Jedi order were hypocrites and what not.  Then move from there.  Also, Luke should have commented on/helped improve her sabre technique so she's not just proficient after having used it only once.  Him watching her suddenly become a ninja and doing nothing just illustrated that Rey again didn't have to work at being super skilled at something and just sort of was.

While we're on the subject of Rey - in TFA and in TLJ (though much less in the latter thank you Rian) Rey is OP.  Flat out.  The explanation we're given in this movie is that as Kylo get's stronger in the force so does she... despite this notion being nowhere in canon prior (Sidious is the most powerful being on the dark side and Vader is second to him.  Neither Obi-Wan nor Yoda could hold a candle to either, and honestly neither could Luke (well, he could have dealt with Vader towards the end maybe, but definitely not Palpatine).  The force produces no light side equivalent in the 20 years the two run roughshod across the galaxy.  But it does now?

Snokes death is still a supreme waste.  And no it's not similar to Palpatine.  Palps got NO real hype until return of the Jedi, and his death wasn't treated as a joke.  Cut Luke milking the pokemon down and add in twenty seconds of Luke telling Rey in that cave "Snoke made that hole at the bottom of the island.  I fought him there.  I thought I killed him but he escaped and has haunted my family ever since".  <- takes ten-twenty seconds.  You can easily trim 10-20 seconds of this behemoth for enough so that I at least know where he came from.  I shouldn't HAVE to read an EU book to have a little character backstory on the evil counterpart to Luke in this series.  

Also, Rey and Kylo's story arc made less sense to me upon second viewing, because Kylo never seems to show her any conflict within himself before they force touch.  He barks a command at her the first time they link up.  The second he taunts her about the look she gave him in the forest and hints that Luke did something to him.  Third time was the creepy shirtless scene where we get his side of things.  Then Rey jumps into the dark side hole and suddenly she thinks Kylo is okay to have at a fireside chat - and that there's good in him... When he's displayed NO good to her the entire time?    What?  If their link allowed them to see memories - like Rey sees him decide not to shoot Leia - then it's justified, because that moment would have given her a sliver of doubt.  As it is, it just doesn't make sense, and makes Rey come off as an idiot (which, if you wanna make that her flaw - that she's a naive idiot sometimes, that's at least a step in the right direction.)

Also, one of my major problems that the second viewing crystalized for me is - ALL of the characters hold the idiot ball way too long.

Poe is probably the most egregious, but his idiocy I like, because it's a bit more character than the last time we saw him and it gave Oscar Isaac something to do.  I like that he'll be leading the charge next film.

Admiral Holdo though?  Oh, she came off much worse in the second viewing.  She tells no one... NO ONE about her plan?  I could agree with the think pieces I've read about fighting mansplaining and toxic masculinity if it were clear she'd told some people and was keeping Poe and his crew out of the loop as a lesson, but while I agree Poe was out of line - some sort of plan should be relayed to the rest of the crew while they're running for their lives.  She's literally told no one, and her excuse is some random quote that Leia says about "hope being pointless if you can see it (<a paraphrase, sure - but that's her reasoning)" which inadvertently hands Leia an idiot ball.  That's a flimsy as heck contrivance for unneeded tension that doesn't make logical sense, and is directly responsible for literally everything bad that happens to the resistance.

...I still love that character though.  Best death in Star Wars bar none.  Also, Laura Dern played her really well.  I WOULD be willing to read EU books about her and Leia complaining about politics and blasters and dudes and whatever they wanted to talk about while murdering Stormtroopers

On to my favorite new trilogy character, Finn, and his new buddy Rose.  It's still better than I expected from the trailers... but not by much.  I've read a few articles trying to pass his storyline off as character building, including one from Rian Johnson.  In no way do I believe them.  Finn's character is right where he was at the beginning of the movie, only now he's in an apparent love triangle (ugh.)  Some one wrote that the point of his story was to have him grow from someone who ran to someone proud to be in the rebellion... except a.) that was his story arc in The Force Awakens, and b.) he was 100% already working with the rebellion and happy to do it when the film began!  After his initial "where's Rey" he works with and asks questions of Leia about the Resistance's next step - He's all in when the movie begins.  Him running away isn't cowardice, he just literally puts his relationship with Rey over the resistance.  Which makes sense, because she's his first friend.  And also because HOLDO TOLD NO ONE HER PLAN SO FINN THOUGHT REY WOULD DIE!!!  Another option I read for his arc was that Finn learns the lesson not to run into danger... but that wasn't Finn's problem in the film, that was Poe.  Finn was super cautious, trying to escape the ship in secret to protect Rey, and not wanting to ride the horse-rabbit.  And then even after Roses' sacrifice he still thinks he needs to run in to help Luke, so that's not a lesson he learned.  That situation should have been reversed.  Rose should have wanted to make the sacrifice, but Finn should have stopped her.  Just kill the arbitrary "save the things we L.O.V.E.", because that still wouldn't be earned though.  -_-

That said, Rose remains adorable, and fares better on second viewing.  I'm pretty sure she caught on to Finn sneaking off before she let on, and if so, that's cool on her, she's super observant.  My only problem with her character wise was... why was she, a mechanic, flying with Poe and the remnants of Black squadron?  I can sort of see Finn, because he's a soldier, but her being in her own cockpit seemed contrived for her weird rescue attempt that didn't make sense.  (Those things were old, and safety couldn't be great on them, running into Finn COULD HAVE KILLED HIM.  There's her idiot ball).  Apparently there's a bunch of shippy scenes between the two that build up her crush on Finn that were left on the cutting room floor.  But so much was cut that it just feels unearned.

I'm still eternally grateful that Finn finally got a win of some sort after getting kicked around all of TFA.  The fight with Phasma was 100% more awesome on the second viewing because I saw so much more going on.  I now really need a Star Wars fighting game, no lie.  (Also, lets be honest.  Phasma isn't dead.  They showed blaster fire ricocheting off her armor for a reason.  She'll come back and if we see her face there'll be a massive scare over her eye... Or... OH WOW, I LITERALLY JUST THOUGHT ABOUT THIS AS I TYPED IT!!!  EYE-PATCH GWENDOLINE CHRISTIE!  Someone who fanarts DO THAT PLEASE!

BB-8 played deus ex machine one too many times in this movie.

I paid more attention to Hux this go around, and I actually liked him much more as the sniveling weasel who thinks he's more powerful than he actually is.  Domnell Gleeson is so good in that smarmy role.  I can't wait for the inevitable Kylo/Hux infighting.

Why is Chewie getting orders barked at him from Rey?  Shouldn't it be the other way around?  Or could she ask?  It's the difference between "Chewie, swing us around!" and "Chewie, CAN YOU swing us around?"  Minor point but bugged me.

Kylo Ren is my favorite Star Wars villain of all time.  Adam Driver is awesome.  He's essentially a school shooter who has been rewarded with power and nothing can be more despicable.  I really don't want him redeemed.  "Star Wars is all about redemption!"  you might cry.  Yeah, if one wants it.  But kids need to be shown what happens if you reject it too.  Food for thought.

You couldn't have given Benecio Del Torro a name IN the movie?  Finn and Rose wouldn't have asked him?  Huh?

Also, that war profiteering storyline seems flawed to me.  Of course a weapons dealer will eventually sell X-Wings.  If the rebellion beats back the empire in your sector, what are you gonna do?  Sell them cheap but unsafe TIE's?  The logic of that scene didn't work for me, and the storyline seemed discarded as soon as Benecio Del Torro left, unresolved.

There is no reason Lando Calrissian couldn't be in Canto Bight.  Heck, he should have been the dude with the pendant, and he missed Leia's call because he was gambling and not paying attention.  Rose and Finn could have missed him before they saw him... or just not known who he was because they were young when the first rebellion was a thing.

This is the best acting from Mark Hamill in a star wars movie ever.  It's a shame they veered so far away from his original characterization.  I disagree with him on the notion that Jedi don't give up.  But that's because I think that trait is Luke's.  LUKE doesn't give up, even when he should.  So derpy depressed Skywalker doesn't really gel with the rest of the Saga to me.

Carrie Fisher was a gem and will be missed.  She was perfect.

 A lot of my friend who have issues with it say that they think it's a good movie, just not a Star Wars movie, or something along those veins.  I will say now, that having watched it a second time, I don't quite agree, though I see where they’re coming from.  This one felt more like a prequel Star Wars though.  Not in terms of quality though, as I'd say it was much better than the prequels.  Certainly Attack of the Clones anyway, which is still my least favorite live action movie (the Clone Wars Movie is worse).  I don't think it's a great SAGA movie, because Rian seemed determined to throw away most of the promises and intrigues from TFA and ignore basic lore stuff to make this one. It felt like he hated much of the Force Awakens and wanted a mini do-over, which I would argue was a dumb idea. But despite that, it's definitely a Star Wars movie.  Just not a great one for the saga.

Here's the big issue though - the REASON it's not a great Saga movie, is because this story team Disney's cooked up haven't been much of a story team.  When they got the property and decided to do a trilogy, they should have written out a skeleton for the three movies, just so everyone who writes and directs has an idea of where they're going.  Rian had free reign on this one, and it almost felt like he was making both the first and second movie of his own personal trilogy.  I am looking forward to his actual trilogy, because his ideas were interesting to me and I feel like he does love the franchise.  But it did a disservice to this film.

And finally, just because it irritates him so - Reylo is a terrible garbage ship.  I hate shipping in general - but not since SasuSaku have I truly loathed the idea of two characters hooking up.  Shoot, Reylo is worse.  In no way should it happen.  Honestly, it shouldn't even be promoted, and should be looked on the way Sansa and Joffery's relationship as looked at.  The fact that SO MANY media outlets are romanticizing the damaged white boy (and sorry to make it racial, but it really does feel like there's some of that in there) and thinking it would be totally hot for the first truly prominent female protagonist in Star Wars history to boink him makes me fear for society.  Literally any other ship is preferable to this...

Star Wars is my favorite franchise of all time and holds a special place in my heart, and this movie does bring that love back.  But the people who are confused as to why it’s not as liked as ESB should take a more critical eye to it.  It’s great, but not that great.

...And again merry Christmas!