#then he had me give leia her pill

[kakashihasibs]

Had a little mental breakdown bc i, a genius, spent the last 3 days laying in bed thinking i could just sleep my way through recovery 🙃

[luke-shywalker]

he’s still a baby to me

I thought only girls did this sort of thing, Leia thought to herself as she navigated Han’s electric clippers around Ben’s head. Her fourteen-year-old son sat there, stone-faced, his knuckles gripping the edges of the kitchen chair.

Leia was currently performing damage control on a self-inflicted haircut. Ben had grown out his hair long enough to brush his shoulders, and he’d worn it like that for a few years, irritating Han to no end—but Leia knew Ben hadn’t cut it to please his father.

“Is everything going alright at school?” Leia asked carefully, sweetly, the same way she would on any other Friday night. But she knew that Ben saw right through that in an instant.

“Yes,” he muttered curtly.

“Are you feeling all right, sweetie?”

“I’m great.”

Leia paused, considering her next move like it was a game of dejarik. Honestly, sometimes it kind of was. Teenage boys were an unfathomable mystery.

Ah—she had it.

“I cut my own hair, once, too,” she said lightly. “When I was about your age. Women on Alderaan would always grow their hair so long—because of the traditional braids. I chopped all my hair off one day, just to give my attendants a heart attack, and had to wear hairpieces whenever I was out in public for the next five years.” She chuckled at the memory.

No response.

Gee, tough crowd, Leia thought.

Ben tugged at his long sleeves. These were the last days of summer, when school had already started but the air was still hot—not like the cool autumns of Alderaan, which had always seemed to come early as if to usher in the winter festivities as quickly as possible. But all summer long, Ben had been living in that same disgusting sweater, oversized and pilling—she had to force him out of it once a week to get it into the wash, and yet it still wasn’t enough to keep that old hand-me-down of Han’s from smelling distinctly of boy—

But a new thought had occurred suddenly to Leia, and her motherly instincts kicked into overdrive—teen angst—haircuts—scissors—blades?—and she found herself seizing his arm and rolling up his sleeve in one quick motion. “Mom!” he yelled.

But there was nothing to find. Only a pale, skinny wrist that hadn’t seen a single ray of sun all summer. She relaxed.

Kind of.

“I was…checking your eczema,” Leia fibbed. “Do you still put your cream on every night?”

“Yeeees.”

“Good boy.”

Nothing.

I wish I knew what went on in his head, Leia thought.

And then: …No. No, I don’t.

She remembered having her own share of teen angst, at his age—but, it had been quickly replaced by some very real trauma that had turned her forty years old at nineteen.

She had had some wild thoughts in her time. Scary thoughts. Dangerous thoughts. Did everyone, she wondered? Or, was it just her…?

Anyway…she had to trust that Ben would turn out okay. Just like she had.

…Force, she thought to herself as she turned off the clippers and dusted off her kid’s shoulders. Did I turn out okay?

She stood there a moment, staring at nothing, trying to figure out whether or not she had turned out okay, whether or not she was raising her son okay—but Ben interrupted her racing thoughts.

“Mom, can I go now?”

Leia blinked rapidly. “Yes, yes, of course, sweetie. Come back downstairs for dinner around six, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Ben, even though both of them knew he wouldn’t be coming down until twenty-seven “Ben, dinner”s after six-thirty. “Can I play hologames with Poe?”

“Are they appropriate?”

“You’ve literally killed people, Mom,” said Ben, and bounded upstairs, nearly tripping himself over his too-long legs. “You don’t get to tell me what’s appropriate.”

“Ben Solo, where did you pick up that attitude of yours?” Leia yelled up the stairs.

But that, of course, was a ridiculous question in this household, and one that didn’t necessarily require a response.

Leia sighed and stooped to sweep up the hair trimmings by hand. Her knees ached a little. The short locks of black reminded her of the thin wisps of hair she had saved, in a little traditional chest she had received from another Alderaanian ex-pat at her baby shower. She stood up again, and remembered how it had felt to carry him.

He’s still a baby to me, she thought, fingering the strands.

[thatseventiesbitch]

Fictober 5 - "It's a new day, let's go"

"Come on, Leia. We're gonna be late to homeroom again." Nikki impatiently shoved at Leia's backpack, as if she could move her along faster.

But the smaller girl's chunky Doc Martens dragged along the sidewalk, resistant. Nikki dropped her arms, exasperated, and headed off to the upperclassmen entrance. The others gathered around Leia.

"I can't go in there again," Leia moaned. She nodded at Point Place High School, looming ahead of them. "Not after what happened yesterday."

Ozzie sucked on his upper teeth. "It was pretty embarrassing," he agreed.

"I slipped on a banana peel in front of the entire cafeteria. A banana peel. What am I, a cartoon?"

"You sound like a cartoon," Ozzie muttered under his breath.

"Oh, gee willikers!" Leia exclaimed. They'd reached the entrance way of the school, and a large insect scuttled away from their feet. "That's the biggest roach I've ever seen!"

“The biggest roach you’ve seen yet,” Gwen pointed out. “There are some pretty gnarly ones in the locker rooms. Welcome to public school, Leia!”Gwen grinned, and threw her arm around Leia's shoulders.

Leia shuddered. There weren't many things she missed about the private, Catholic school her parents sent her to in Chicago - not the nuns, or the uniforms, or the daily mass. But she did miss being in a place she understood, a place where she knew the rules of the game. This was a world where everything was new to her. At least she had her friends here to show her the ropes.

"Leia!"

She perked up when she heard his voice. That was one other, important thing that was here. Her boyfriend.

Jay bounded up to the gang, knocking Gwen's arm off Leia's shoulder so he could hold her instead. Gwen threw him a nasty glare.

"Wanna walk to homeroom with our hands in each other's back pockets?"

Leia gazed at Jay dreamily. Hearts were practically popping from her eyes. They both missed Gwen's eye roll.

"Yeah," she breathed.

They wrapped their arms around each other and started to walk towards Mrs. Buchinski's room, but a horde of jocks swarmed them before they got too far.

"Hey look," one laughed. He was pointing at Leia. "It's banana split!" The other boys all roared in approval. Leia blushed.

"Oh, get killed Greg." Gwen slammed into Greg, shoulder checking him easily into a locker. His cronies chuckled nervously. "It would do us all a favor," she snarled.

Greg fixed his preppy clothing, popping his shirt collar pointedly at Gwen. Then he jerked his chin at Jay.

"She's dating you?" Greg smirked. "Can't say I'm surprised." He nodded to one of his cronies. "How many times has Klumsy Kelso fallen off the water tower, again?"

"Gotta be at least a dozen."

"Actually, it's sixteen times." Jay responded just as coldly, his jaw set. "That's a Point Place record."

"Jay - " Leia tugged at his arm. "Let's just go."

"Try not to trip on anything on your way to class!" Greg called after them. The other students in the hallway snickered.

"Try not to cry too much about your mom's pill addiction, Greg!" Gwen retaliated, causing an 'oooooh' to ripple through the hallway. They tore away.

"You can't show them any weakness, Leia," Gwen coached. "It's a dog-eat-dog world out here." Jay and Ozzie nodded along.

Leia's face contorted in fear. "Don't show my weakness? Gwen, I'm all weakness!"

"Like a little bunny," Ozzie agreed, shaking his head sympathetically.

They'd reached the door to Leia and Jay's homeroom. Gwen grabbed Leia by the shoulders assertively.

"Oh, no you're not." She shook Leia roughly. "Show me the Leia who blackmailed Mama into giving us the tap."

Jay joined in. "Yeah. Show me the Leia who intimidated Party Animal into signing Nate's belt."

Gwen tapped the center of Leia's forehead. "Show me the Leia who convinced her mom to let her stay here. Twice."

Her friends' words were working. Leia felt her self-confidence growing. "You really think I can do this?" she checked, her eyes flickering hopefully to Gwen's. "You really think it will be okay, that they won't laugh at me?"

Gwen returned her eager look with a smirk.

"Oh, I didn't say they're not going to laugh at you." She patted her best friend's shoulder. "I just said you can handle it."

Leia wavered. "B-but yesterday - "

"It's a new day, Leia. Let's go."

Jay's hand slid through hers, and somehow, she felt ready for anything.

[andydrysdalerogers]

Cross-Checked ~ Chapter 22

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!. 

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world., 

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again? 

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; handsome goalies, evil exes...

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Banners by me!

Previous: Chapter 21 It's the Playoffs, Baby!

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 22 - This Is MY Family

Andy 

You ever had a dream you couldn’t wake up from? It starts like a normal dream but then it turns into a nightmare. I feel like that’s where I am right now. Why? Why can’t these fuckers just go away. I take a deep breath, remembering that my girls are in the house, and I don’t want to scare them.  

“Why are you here?” 

Monica scoffed. “Since when do you talk to me like that?” 

“Since you won’t leave my family alone. I’ll ask again, why are you here?” 

“Your family?” Bret growls. “No, you’re playing pretend with my family. They are mine!” 

“Like fuck they are.” I narrow my eyes at them. “Tell me what you want and then get the fuck off my property, or I am calling the cops for trespassing.  You both were already told you’re not welcome here.”  

Monica smirks. “Fine, I’ll be blunt. I want you to leave my daughter and granddaughter. I’ll give you $2 million to walk away.”  

“And why the fuck would I do that?” I laugh.  

“And,” she continues as if I didn’t speak, “I won’t release these.” She has an envelope in her hand. “You can have these; I have more copies.”  

I open them to see photos of myself, passed out, with pill scattered around. Another of me, looking higher than a kite. “What the fuck? These photos are a lie.”  

“The press won’t know that,” Bret snarks. “At least not in time. Who knows when these photos were taken as well.  You could have been stepping out on your pregnant girlfriend.” He shrugs with a sinister smile. “Hate for Leia to find out.”  

“You motherfucker!” I get ready to lunge but Monica steps in front of him. “You might want to rethink that action. I’ll give you until Friday to make the correct choice.”  

Friday. Three days from now.  I have a game right in the middle of that. Avery has a check up on Friday. I’m starting to spiral. No, they won’t take them away from me, my girls are mine. “You can all get fucked.” I start to walk away but the next words stop me in my tracks.  

“Fiona sends her regards.”  

Don’t turn around. Don’t give them what they want, I chant in my head. I keep walking until I get to the front door. I make sure to watch as they drive away before I activate the camera. “Sweetheart, let me in.”  

Twenty seconds later, the door flies open and she’s in my arms. “Andy,” she whimpers. She presses her face against my chest. She’s trembling.  

“I’ve got you, my queen. Don’t worry.” I kiss the top of her head. “Everything is alright.” I hold her to me, relaxing into her warmth.  

“What happened?” She looks up at me and I see her beautiful eyes.  

“Nothing. Nothing is going to happen.  Promise.”  

“Tell me,” she presses.  

I dodge her request.  “Where is Avery?” 

“Asleep in her crib. Andy, just tell me.”  

“Not right now, love.” I pull her into a kiss which I deepen immediately. I haven’t been able to have her since the doctor cleared her.  We immediately were on the road and rules are rules: the team sleeps alone. I let my hands drift down to her ass and squeeze, causing her to moan. I lick into her deeper. Fuck I need to have her.  I pull back enough to breathe and grasp her under her thighs.  

“Andy, what are you doing?” 

“I need you, Leia. I need you so fucking bad.” I sit on our couch with her in my lap. God I can feel her hot pussy on my ever-growing cock, and she squeals as I rock her back and forth. “Can I have you?” 

“Yes,” she gasps. I want you too. She starts to kiss my neck as I run my hands up her legs. She has her dress still on and all I can feel miles of smooth skin. Once I reach the apex of her thighs, I feel her tremble in anticipation. “Andy, please.”  

Oh fuck.  I love when she begs for me. “You like that, pretty girl?” I feel her nod. “Be a good girl and use your words.” I smell her neck and I can still smell my favorite perfume on her skin. I grow harder and she gasps, feeling my length against her heat.  

“Andy, please, fuck me.”  

I would be an asshole to refuse a beautiful woman. I pick her up and lay her down onto the couch. She giggles and I brush a lock of her hair away from her face.  “Do you know how beautiful you are?” She shakes her head and I growl. “You are the most gorgeous creature in the world. Minus our daughter,” I add as an afterthought. I kiss her slow and soft.  

“Stop teasing Barber. She’ll be awake in like 30 minutes.” Leia nips at my bottom lip and I growl at the pain. “Move your ass.”  

“Oh, that’s how it is?” She gives me a cheeky smile and I’m done. I sit up and pull off my hoodie and t-shirt in one go. I lift Leia up enough to pull off her dress, leaving her in just panties. And not just any panties. They are the cotton and lace ones I had picked out for her. I bite my lip to stifle a groan. I lean back down and take one of her nipples in my mouth, sucking gently. I know she is sensitive because of her milk but I also know that it drives her wild. Her hand is in my hair, holding me to her as I lick and play with her.  

“Fuck Andy, I need to feel you,” she groans out.  

“I’m right here, love. Tell me what you need.”  

“I need to feel your tongue on my pussy.”  

“Good girl.” I slide down her body and take her panties with me. She’s already wet for me, the fabric damp with her arousal. “Such a pretty pussy, baby. I love the way you taste.” I lick up her folds and moan at her taste. I lick her until I move to her clit and gently suck on it. Her body arches up and I hold her hip to bring her down. As I work her, I can feel her body trembling.  

“I’m gonna cum. Shit, Andy, I’m-” I feel her release go through her body. I take everything that she gives me. I feel like I could die a happy man from her release. I bring her down slowly and release her sensitive clit. I come off of her to undo my pants, but she scrambles up and pushes me to sit. She leans over and whispers in my ear, “I’m going to swallow you whole.”  

Oh, dear god, I think I might die.  

She yanks off my jeans and boxers, letting my cock spring out, hard and leaking for her. She licks me from the base to the tip like a fucking ice cream cone. I moan, loudly because, fuck is it good. She suckles the tip before taking me all the way down her throat. I put my hand in her hair, but I don’t push. I don’t need to push. She works me and its fucking perfect.  She reaches for my balls and starts rolling them in her finders. “Ah, fuck, Leia, baby, I’m going to cum.” But she doesn’t stop.  

I grab her by the throat gently and push her back. “Stop being a brat. I don’t want to cum in your mouth, my queen. I want my cum in your cunt.”  

“The doctor put in the IUD at the last appointment,” she tells me, a glint in her eye.  

“And you’re just telling me now? Naughty girl.” I pick her up and throw her onto her stomach on the couch. “Ass up, my queen. Looks like you need a spanking.” I haul up her hips and rub her soft skin before dipping in between her folds.  

She whines and I laugh before I spank her. “Fuck, Andy!” 

“Yes, my queen.” I smack her other cheek and dip my finger into her, feeling her squeeze my fingers. “You like it, don’t you?” I smack her again and I can feel her arousal drip down my hand. She nods and I grin, I smack her one more time before I remove my fingers and guide my cock into her. She sucks in a breath as she takes me in. We’ve only had sex a couple of times, but I already know that she likes this position the best.  

I slowly pump into her, holding onto her hips. “Fuck baby, you feel so good. Nice and tight and warm. Wanna live here in you.”  

“Andy, that cock is stretching me out so good. So big,” she pants. “Harder, please. I won’t break, I promise. Please.” I slowly pull out of her, letting her feel every vein and ridge of my cock before I slam back into her.  Her resulting cry sounds so good. I do this a few times before I hear, “dammit Barber just fuck me.”  

Whatever my queen wants, she gets.  

I start to fuck her hard and quick. I start to feel that familiar spark in my spine. I want to explode in her but not until she reaches her peak first. I reach down to stroke her clit. “Come on, my queen. Let go. Tell me you’re there.”  

“Andy, Andy, yes!” Her body squeezed my cock so hard I can’t move as she reached her climax. As I start to feel her loosen, I thrust a few more times before I moan my release and collapse on top of her.  Our breathing starts to even out and she begins to giggle. “Best welcome home ever.”  

I start to laugh as I roll us so I’m spooning her in my arms. I kiss her and feel her start to relax and her breathing slow. The reality of earlier starts to come back and my anxiety starts to rise. What was I going to do? I needed to make this right. The fact that Fiona is somehow involved made my blood boil. I had one ace up my sleeve, and I knew I needed to use it.  

A small whimper came from the baby monitor. Leia began to stir but I whispered to her, “I’ll get her.” I gently climbed over her and went up to my daughter’s room. I found her about to start wailing. “Oh, princess, are we messy? Are we hungry?” I picked her up and cradled her. She immediately started to relax and open her big, beautiful eyes at me. “There she is; my princess.”  As I walked over to her change table, I knew what my next step was.  As I put her down, I grabbed my phone. 

Andy: I need to meet with you 

After I changed Avery, I picked her up and to calm her soft cries. “Papa will always take care of you, my sweet princess. Everything is going to be ok. I love you and your mama so much. I promise, nothing will happen to my family.” 

The morning before the game, I went into the city to an old cafe that we used to frequent as teenagers. I looked over at Luke, who I’d clued into what was going on. His face was neutral. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” 

“This needs to end.  We lost our mother the day we lost dad. I won’t allow Leia to be bothered by this anymore.” I pulled up to the diner and took a breath. “Never thought I would have to see this asshole again.”   

“Me neither.” We walked and walked into the back corner both.  The man sitting there took the lollipop out of his mouth and smiled.  

“Hey cupcake. Long time. “ 

NEXT

Taglist:

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[thestupidhelmet]

A(nother) Difference Between That '70s Show and That '90s Show.

I've written about depth of characterization before, but I realized today by looking at the T7S circle .gifs by @tht70sblog that the life issues the T9S kids face (save Oz) are nowhere on the same level as those from T7S (S1-S5, at least). This might add to the Disney show feeling people have expressed about T9S.

T7S has very realistic parental neglect and abuse issues and the emotional effects of that childhood wounding. Parents who don't set proper boundaries with their kid, which creates a different cluster of emotional wounding that affects the kid's worldview and behavior. And gives specific details (or the whys) to make all this characterization abundantly clear.

The threat of homelessness at seventeen (several times) and fears of a bleak future. Significant betrayal in teen relationships. A son whose more sensitive nature doesn't fit with his father's idea of masculinity, which has a breadth of consequences (some good, some damaging). A pregnancy scare for a high school sophomore. Teen girls whose gender expression and interests don't fit stereotypes.

The list goes on.

This depth, seriousness, and kind of issues facing the characters of T7S resonates very much with my time as a teenager in high school (long after the '70s 😅). For instance: a friend with an emotionally and physically abusive mother who kicked her out of home in the middle of the night (not for the first time), and that friend showing up at my home for shelter.

That's only one specific example with the most basic of details (because privacy 😁), but T7S reflects so much of my serious teen experiences in its stories (not necessarily autobiographically but in spirit). Also the fun and great times (and burns, which we didn't call burns) during those years, too -- just like the T7S characters. It was a mixture. Both harrowing in a lot of ways and fulfilling.

T9S isn't there. Maybe it won't ever be because it's not the same show as T7S and isn't intended to go that deeply or realistically into teen life.

But T7S does while still capturing the humor that exists during all the crap teens have to go through or get themselves into.

That being said, the T9S teens are a little younger than the T7S teens (talking about the characters, not actors). Leia fretting over having a first kiss with Jay is sweet, and it's definitely a dilemma fifteen-year-olds have.

But when I was fifteen, friends were often fretting about a lot more than a kiss. Jackie and Kelso's sexual relationship when she's a sophomore and he's a junior is closer to my specific experience (with a few first kisses sprinkled in).

I find myself and parts of my life in T7S. I connect to the characters, their connections to one another, and what they go through.

I love Red and Kitty in T9S and enjoy the teens' antics and personalities. Even if the show remains more surface with its depiction of teen life in the '90s, I hope it goes deeper with the characters and builds the connections / friendships among them so we understand*why* they care about one another and hang out (with Leia and Gwen's friendship as the exception since that gets good development in S1).

Give me a "Class Picture" (T7S, S4) type of flashback like how Fez became part of the group that shows why Oz chose the other T9S kids as friends and vice versa. Right now, I have no idea.

Gwen's brother, Nate, is Jay's best friend. Nate is dating Nikki, and Leia is Gwen and Nate's neighbor during the summer. That explains the *why* of their interactions. It doesn't explain or illustrate the deeper connections among them, however. With sixteen episodes for S2, I hope the writers use that space for episodes like T7S's "Hyde Moves In," "Sleepover," "Cat Fight Club," "Grandma's Dead," "Eric's False Alarm," "The Pill," and so on that showcase and develop the relationships among the characters.

---

Side note: If I knew had to add a *read more (under the cut)* on mobile, I would. 🫣

[deniigi]

hi I have something for y’all called a disaster.

I wrote an Inimitable!Spiderman/Modern Star Wars AU because no one can stop me, not even myself. it is like 47 pages long. I am handing it tenderly to y’all.

--------------

Title: impossible scenario

Summary: Peter runs into some drunk assholes arguing, calling each other Han and Luke. He lets it roll off him until he can’t anymore and eventually finds himself for the first time on the other side of someone more chaotic than himself.

------------

There was an argument happening under a fire escape. Peter knew about it because a concerned dude wearing a fuckin’ Yankees cap had flagged him down with waving arms and told him that someone needed saving, Spiderman. Some tall asshole was kidnapping a young blond dude, the guy  and his too-cool-for-him girlfriend explained. They’d heard the two scuffling.

Peter maybe stared for a beat too long at them because the gal pointed two blocks behind him and said, “That way. I think the blond guy might be drugged. He’s slurrin’ something strong.”

Peter liked her shoes. They looked like Miles’s, but blue.

“Spidey?”

Miles told Peter all the time that he wasn’t cool enough to wear Jordans. MJ and Johnny had agreed. Such sad times.

“Spidey.”

“I got it,” Peter sighed.

The gal tsked.

“Man, you’re too young to be this jaded,” she said.

Peter sighed.

“You’re the third person to say that this week,” he said. “You think I should go back to therapy?”

There was a pause.

“You know that answer, dude,” cool-gal said. “Go save the twink.”

Twink. Got it. Thank you, citizen.

“There are websites for that shit, Spidey.”

Bye now.

“Apps, even.”

Bye, bye.

“BetterHelp or Headspace or somethin’—”

“Two blocks, you said?” Peter asked.

 --

 Two blocks away, there was indeed a man with dark hair trying to lift a violently intoxicated twink up onto the first steps of a fire escape. Peter examined his options. There were many ways to ruin a potential kidnapper’s day. His favorite involved coke and mentos, although he’d received feedback that that was a waste of perfectly good food. Down the list was also the option to walk over and scream bloody murder so that the kidnapper shat themselves and dropped their target.

That was good, but Peter was tired and the thought of mustering up the energy to scream at a noticeable volume made his thighs turn to Jell-o.

That left snark and violence.

Today, he would not choose violence. Only for today.

He strode out of his dark temporary residence between two dumpsters directly towards the tall dude and his mark. The mark was a messy one. Bless his heart, he was unwittingly making himself the most noncompliant victim to have ever victim-ed. Every time the tall guy got him almost vertical, he gave up his corporeal form to become drunk slime and ooze back to the ground with various moaning sound effects.

It would have been funny if not for the kidnapping context.

The fact that Peter had been standing there under the beams of two separate side-building security lights and neither of those two had noticed yet was also objectively funny—or would have been, if Peter had the capacity for processing humor at the moment.

Alas. This was what he got for telling Tony that he’d evolved beyond the need for sleep. He got caffeine-pilled. And there would be no true rest until that shit wore off, exhausted as Peter’s body yearned to be.

“Kid, work with me here,” the tall guy said.

“I can’t, I’ll die,” the shorter one moaned.

“Luke.”

“I’ve done my time—thirty years in AZKA—”

“Keep your voice down, oh my god.”

Peter was just standing here, fellas.

“Luke.”

“Why’s it always me? Why’s it always gotta be me? The hell did I do to piss off the whole galax-galaxy? HA. My bad, my bad. The whole universe?”

God, what a mood.

The tall guy dropped his grip on the smaller one and loomed over his puddle of ooze with poison in his gaze.

“People are going to die, Luke,” he said.

“So what? They’re always dyin’. Everywhere I go, people’re dyin’ and when it’s not them dyin’, you know who is?”

“Kid.”

“ME.”

“So you’re just gonna wallow there, feelin’ sorry for yourself?” the tall dude snapped.

“Sure am,” the puddle of ooze hummed.  

This was not a kidnapping. This was a come-to-Jesus in the back alley of a bar. Peter was not needed here. He turned around on his heel and stopped when he heard a sharp intake of breath.

“Is that?” someone whispered.

“Don’t mind me, pal, just your friendly neighborhood—” he started.

“Look what you did,” Tall and Handsome hissed at Ooze-Man. “Someone went and called Spiderman on us.”

Peter lifted a brow as Ooze-man ripped its chest up from the asphalt and composed itself back into a human shape with fluffy blonde hair and huge wide eyes.

“Omigod, it’s Spiderman,” the guy said. “Wait, no. Gimme a hand. No, not that one, fuck off, nevermind, I don’t need you.”

He drew himself up to standing, only leaning slightly on his buddy there and gave Peter as lopsided smile.

“Hi, there,” he said with a twang that Peter couldn’t place. “Were you lookin’ for someone, handsome?”

Ah, they had reached the time of night when all the drunks needed to tell Peter things he already knew about his ass. He loved this time.

Not to mention that this dude looked eerily like Johnny. Scarily like Johnny. So much like Johnny that Peter almost wanted to take a picture of him to send to Sue so that she could print up some lost and found posters.

“Just lookin’ at you, babe,” he said. “This guy botherin’ you?”

The tall guy blanched and then grabbed at his face in horror. Peter swallowed his laugh.

“He sure is, hon. You got time to rescue me?” Blondie crooned.

“Luke, please. Please.”

“Because I’m in real distress,” ‘Luke’ said with a pout mighty enough to fell Thor.

“You sure seem like it,” Peter said. “C’mere. I’ll walk you home. Leave that tool, he ain’t worth your breath.”

He held out an elbow like proper gentleman and was pleased at the hand that Luke laid over his heart in response.

Peter could imagine Johnny’s face in six different expression of jealous horror at a selfie taken with this look-alike. Each was beautiful in its own special way. As payment for being referred to counseling by the public, he at least deserved to receive at least two of those faces.

“You mean that?” Luke asked him.

“He doesn’t,” his tall companion said.

“I sure do, where do you live? I’ll walk you,” Peter said.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cry, he’s gonna escort me,” Luke said, all choked up and fanning his eyes lightly.

This tall friend grabbed him before he could escape, though, and pulled him back behind his own body.

“Listen, Spidey, this is a misunderstanding,” he drawled. “I know this idiot—he is technically my idiot— and I’m the one escorting his ass home. Thanks, though. You’re a real menace. Beat it.”

MMMMMMM.

And here Peter had been planning on being jaded and miserable this fine night. How could he now when this dude was ticking every box that made him feel alive?

“What’s your name, dollface?” Peter asked across the short distance.

“None of your business,” Tall Guy answered abruptly.

“Luke,” Luke said around him. “Are you gonna save me?”

“In just a minute,” Peter said, striding forward with a hard roll in his shoulder and deep drop in his knees.

It was amazing how Tall Guy wanted to take some steps back all of the sudden. Peter couldn’t help but let a smirk widen his face as he advanced.

“Okay, hang on now,” Tall Guy said with both palms out in front of him. “You don’t know what this is about, Spidey. You don’t want to get involved with this, trust me. He’s just bein’ dramatic. No need to get testy.”

“You sure do a lot of talkin’ for your friend there,” Peter noted through his grin.

“Yeah, Han,” Luke said.

Ha.

Han. Han and Luke. Ned was gonna be enraptured when Peter told him about this later.

“Luke. Back me up.”

“Why should I?”

“Because,” ‘Han’ finally snapped. “I’m not doin’ this because I want you to suffer, alright? I don’t want nothin’ to do with it either, okay? No one does. But it’s this or—”

“Or everyone else,” Luke finished for him in a strangely toneless voice.

Han sighed.

“It’s always everyone else,” Luke said.

“Not here.”

“Why’s it always everyone el—No, no, here. Why not? We’ve got fucking Spiderman in our midst, how much more surreal can this moment get? No. You listen to me, Han—”

“I’ve been listening to you all damn evening and you know what I’m hearing?”

“—I lost my life for this. I lost my home, my aunt, my uncle, my hand—”

“I’m hearing you making this about you.”

“—everything I ever knew, and I tried to make it right, didn’t I? I made the school. I gathered the kids—”

“And it’s not just about you this time, kid. It’s not about you, it’s not about me, or Leia, or Chewie or—”

“—I lost my kid and the love of my life, and I finally get a second chance at finding them and giving them the goddamn happy ending they deserve, and the next thing I know—”

“Luke, you’re the only one,” Han said.

“I WAS NEVER. THE ONLY. ONE, HAN,” Luke roared out of absolutely nowhere, sober as a saint. “I was never the only one. EVER. Ahsoka. Go find her. She’s everything that I’m not and more. She’s the real—”

“Luke.”

“Stop saying that name. I HATE that name. I would do anything for twenty goddamn seconds where I didn’t have to be him.”

“You don’t mean that,” Han said quietly. His shoulders had rounded out and become black and heavy under the weight of their shadow. Luke’s eyes, however, looked like topaz.

“I mean it,” Luke said.

Oho.

So shit had gotten real tense, real fast, so Peter about to make a decision that was gonna make Shelley so proud of him she would weep when he finally slunk back in through her office door.

He was leaving. He was turning around and taking a wee jog. Maybe turning a corner, having a little jump over a fence, up a wall, to a place as far away from this one as superhumanly possible.

Bye, bye.

“This galaxy needs you, Luke.”

Peter stopped five paces away.

“They need you,” Han repeated. “And I need you.”

Peter slowly looked back to see that Luke’s face had twisted sharply out of the light, towards the alley wall.

“I’m sorry that we met again like this,” Han said quietly. “I’m sorry it’s always you. You don’t deserve this. No one deserves this.”

“Shut up,” Luke said.

“But if you don’t do something, then it won’t be just me and you and all these random others sliding back into that cesspit we all barely crawled out of.”

“Stop.”

“You’ll never find him if things go back the way they were.”

“You—you don’t know that. There—maybe—”

“Luke. Listen to me. Please.”

“Maybe there’s a chance—”

“Luke,” Han said reaching out and putting a hand on Luke’s shoulder and clenching it hard enough that Peter should see the bunched fabric, “Do you want Din to live through this shitshow a second time? Hasn’t he suffered enough?”

Peter shivered. The pressure at the base of his neck was building. The Spidey Sense wanted to hiss in his ears like white noise. It pinned him where he was, staring over his shoulder at those two solid shapes, one digging a hand into the flesh of the other.

His stomach turned.

Luke said something that Peter couldn’t hear. Han pulled him toward his own body by the grip he had on his shoulder. At first, Luke seemed to stagger, like he was walking on black ice. He stopped a single step away from Han’s body, still with his face angled severely away. Han said something to him.

There was a long pause, then Luke seemed to fall forward. Han caught him and crushed his head into his shoulder, lowering his own until it was almost touching Luke’s ear. They clung to each other.

Luke was crying.

The Spidey Sense started to crackle and pop in Peter’s ears.

“I gotchu, kid,” Han said in a rasp. “I gotchu. We’re gonna get through it.”

Peter blinked once and finally unlocked the muscles in his neck. He wasn’t meant to witness this. He held out a wrist and fired a line.

  --

It was weird.

It was just weird.

Something wasn’t right. And Peter couldn’t make his stomach not writhe about it.

Luke.

Han.

An offhand mention of like, characters. Character names. They were character names. Leia, Chewie.

Peter had heard of people who lived their lives honestly believing that they had been other people—fake people—in past lives, but like, damn man. Why would you put yourself in a position like that were you were moved to actual tears for some elaborate street-drama?

Maybe it had been a joke? That was the only thing he could think it could be. Maybe the universe had gazed upon his hubris at work and gone ‘ah yes, I know what this young man needs: emotional confusion at midnight on a Thursday. That’ll fix him.’

If that was the case, then yeah. Good job, universe. Good job, larpers. Y’all are equally sick.

But if not—and Peter no longer lived in a world where he could rule out any possibilities—then he had just witnessed—Dude, he’d just witnessed—

He couldn’t even think it. It was beyond him. It was so far beyond him that like he might have a real stroke taking the thought seriously.

There was only one person who could hold that kind of information unscathed.

Only one.

  --

PP: Ned. I need you to listen to me and tell me I’m not crazy.

NL: no promises but go on

PP: I think? I just saw? Luke Skywalker? And Han Solo? In an alley behind Kitty’s?????

NL: fascinating

JS: Say more

PP: who let you in here?

JS: you?

PP: SECURITY

NL: Peter say more

PP: I can’t there’s a nerd in here and it’s vibrating at the wrong decibel. SECURITY???

MJ: yeah?

PP: I’m trying to have a breakdown. Can you remove Matchstick please?

MJ: what kind of breakdown

JS: he thinks he met Luke Skywalker

PP: Security has failed me. God?

NL: Peter can you name three things you can see.

PP: I am not manic. I am in touch with reality. I’m just having anxiety because I just fucking saw two people calling each other Luke and Han fighting behind Kitty’s. Like real fighting.

JS: nicknames?

PP: I—

PP: oh my god nicknames

PP: Johnny I’m so sorry I ever doubted you. never leave my side

JS: 😊

MJ: wow that’s cringe. Imagine naming yourself after SW characters

NL: does kitty do a cosplay night now????

PP: idk it was wild. People thought that ‘Han’ was trying to kidnap ‘Luke’ but when I got over there, Luke started flirting with me and then shit got real and they started arguing over like him hating his name and not wanting to do something and losing everything or some shit

NL: that’s a lot. I’m sure it was nothing, though, peter.

PP: yeah it was. My SS has been going nuts ever since I left. You think they bugged me?

JS: yes I will come search your body imminently

MJ: my job storm, back off

JS: after MJ has finished prelim checks, I will then search your body for you out of the kindness of my heart ❤

NL: that’s weird, the SS doesn’t usually freak out about cosplayers

PP: ikr?

NL: lol imagine if they were serious

MJ: don’t say that

JS: well now we have to lean in. thanks ned

JS: they were definitely real. God they were so real. You hear that Fate? You got us. They’re definitely real.

PP: BUT WHAT IF THEY WERE?

MJ: cue breakdown

NL: that would be so fucking funny. Luke Skywalker and Han Solo trying to save the world from the hellscape of nyc. The rats alone would thwart them.

PP: ned I’m freaking out

NL: oh you mean you’re actually freaking out?

PP: deeply

NL: oh shit sorry. I’ll be over, have you slept yet?

PP: NO

MJ: on it

JS: can I join?

NL: no johnny

MJ: no johnny

PP: 😭

JS: one day our love will build a bridge, peter. In the meantime I am stroking your ear comfortingly from midtown

  --

Need and MJ’s weight pinning him to a mattress brought sleep but not necessarily comfort. They both thought that this was a sick joke someone had played on him that was now destroying his psyche. They thought that the couple pointing him back towards the cosplayers had been in on the joke.

Peter would have agreed with them if it wasn’t for the Spidey Sense. Everything else lined up perfectly.

Ned sighed in the morning and told Peter to go talk to Wade.

 --

 Wade’s hallucinations were, by far, more auditory than visual, but he stayed quiet while Peter talked his ear off over the phone in his locked office. He waited until Peter had run out of words to describe the feeling of impending doom and then huffed a bit of a laugh into the receiver.

“Them Star Wars people are unreal, Pete, you know this,” he said. “Look at Ned.”

Ned was perfect.

“Take off those rosy shades, hon. Now, look again.”

Ned had perhaps memorized the entire scripts of the first three movie and 90% of the spaceship names and the jedi lineages.

“Uh-huh. Keep going.”

Peter didn’t want to.

“We all gotta do shit we don’t want do.”

Fine.

Ned’s goal in life was to go to his wedding in a stormtrooper suit.

“Keep going.”

Every Lego project they’d built together since 13 years-old had been a Star Wars-related one. When Ned had decided to move out of his parents’ place, he’d shed actual tears over MJ and Peter mutually suggesting that he sell some of his memorabilia.

“Will this delightful buffet before our very eyes, what is the likelihood of your two pals being drunk larpers in too deep to quit?” Wade asked.

73%.

“Uh-huh.”

“Thanks, Wade.”

“No problem. Although, now I gotta see this. You said they were behind Kitty’s? You think I can get a stormtrooper costume in 8 hours?”

“They’re not still gonna be there, Wade,” Peter huffed. “It’s 10 am.”

“You ain’t know that. What if Luke Skywalker’s a useless drunk, huh? You ever think of that?”

No.

“What’d he look like?”

Peter groaned.

“He looked like Luke Skywalker,” he said. “Blond hair, blue eyes—sort of like a chipmunk that forgot its stripes.”

“I’m onto you, Skywalker.”

Peter hung up to Wade’s cackle. He slouched low and tapped his pen against his desk. Then against his fingers.

He stared at the edge of his keyboard.

“What’s the weirdest thing you could imagine, Pete?” he asked himself.

 --

 PP: sam

SC: yeah?

PP: do you like star wars?

SC: nah

PP: you’re perfect

PP: do you believe in past lives?

SC: like spiritually or culturally? I know I was a cult-kid for a min there but before that we were Buddhists and like, past lives are part of the package

PP: that’s cool. What do you think of people being reborn as themselves again like, 500000000 years later? From a galaxy far far away?

SC: I don’t think about those people

PP: okay well, hypothetically. Let’s say that you were going to imagine someone who embodied that whole spirit. Who would it be?

SC: Buddha

PP: not buddha

SC: is this a riddle? Is it Jesus?

PP: THOR. Thank you this has been helpful ily bye

  Mr. Stark asked him over a cup of viciously black coffee why Peter was seeking out the demigod of his present nightmares.

That usually meant that he and Thor had disagreed on basic physics principles again. Peter took that also to mean that the demigod was still in the building. Possibly loose.

“He’s with Banner,” Mr. Stark said scathingly.

“Thanks, you’re amazing,” Peter said as he sailed out of the room.

 --

 Thor was sitting on Dr. Banner’s lab table, despite Dr. Banner telling him to get off no fewer than two times in the five minutes that Peter was in there, schmoozing and making pleasantries. He warmed Thor up to the home-run hit by asking him all about past lives and present lives and what the soul was on Asgard. Thor was only too happy to explain a load of nonsense that made Banner roll his eyes and poke at his muscles with a thermometer.

“So, hypothetically speaking,” Peter drawled in a very casual lean, “With the infinite galaxies and universes, etcetera, there could be one where Star Wars people exist. And so hypothetically, they could get reborn into a universe like ours.”

Thor blinked at him.

“You remember the laser swords?” Dr. Banner deadpanned.

Thor lit up.

“I suppose it’s possible,” he told Peter indulgently. “But if that was the case then it would be a long tragedy, no?”

…yes…

Say more, Thor-man.

“Well,” Thor said with a big, happy smile, “The series of events that unfolded in that story seemed to me to be one of triumph and tragedy. With one would come the other—that’s how these stories work, yes?”

…yes.

“So if Master Luke Skywalker and his companions arrived into our space here, then they must experience the same in order to be themselves,” Thor said, bobbing his head in pity. “Perhaps what would look like a new start for such people would result only in terror and disappointment until the same conclusion was reached.”

Peter felt his own grin twitch.

“So it’s not impossible?” he asked.

Both Thor and Banner looked at him quizzically at the same time.

“Peter?” Dr. Banner asked. “Is this coming from somewhere?”

Peter’s grin twitched so violently, it turned into a grimace that even superstrength would not let him maintain.

“Can I borrow one of you?” he asked.

 --

 Wade was not happy to be met outside of Kitty’s in the middle of the day, especially because his stormtrooper outfit, in his words, ‘did no justice for the size of his balls.’

Peter was ignoring that. He dragged Thor past Wade’s righteous anger until he was standing on the place where the other two had stood the night before. Thor stood there gamely.

“There,” Peter said. “Any like, energy signatures?”

Thor glanced around and shrugged.

Wade scowled at him and hounded him off the spot so that he could stand there instead.

“I feel nothing,” he said, devoid of emotion.

“Same,” Thor said.

Damnit.

“Perhaps you are—”

The Spidey Sense smashed through all of Peter’s sense and screamed at him to get to the street.

Get to the street. Get to the street. Get to the—

There.

Across the way. Chipmunk, no stripes.

That was the guy from the day before. He was on the opposite sidewalk smashed in with the crowd, dragging a hand through his hair and laden with a backpack and two separate totes. He was wearing a strange set of clothes—a mash of casual and formal—and seemed to be in a hurry, the type of hurry that involved pushing past folks at a half-jog and not stopping at streetlights.

“Got ‘im,” Peter hissed.

“No shit?” Wade asked over his shoulder.

Thor made a sound of interest.

“I see him, too,” he said. “What incredible energy, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Wh—

Peter whirled on him.

“Don’t you fucking say that,” he warned. “I’m gonna go distract. You two, on my six.”

 --

 Peter broke four traffic laws on his way around the block. He swung himself around a corner and fucked up the collar on his labcoat and counted to four before stepping out right into ‘Luke’s path.

They collided. Luke stumbled back and dropped one of his totes.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Peter blustered. “Are you okay?”

Luke swore and dropped down without answering, collecting the odd ends of metal that had clattered out from his bag and now rolled loose over the pavement. Peter stooped to join, gathering rings and pipes of all sorts of sizes in his hands. Oncoming folks gave them a wide berth.

It took a moment for Luke to realize what Peter was doing, but when he did, his shoulders went stiff as a board.

“DON’T TOUCH THOSE,” he snapped, just as Peter made to pick up a little plastic bag with a wad of tissue inside it.

Peter froze.

“Oh. Sorry,” he said.

This time, Luke finally met his eye.

“Oh, Jesus. No. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Luke blustered, “Thank you. I’ll—I’ve got them. Thank you, though. It’s okay.”

He took the metal out of Peter’s hands and stuffed them back into his bag. He snatched the plastic bag before Peter could touch it and put that on top.

“Excuse me,” he said as he stood. “Thanks again.”

And just like that, he hurried off past Peter down the pavement.

Peter watched him go.

“Catch?” Wade asked softly from the corner.

“Negative,” Peter said, reaching into his sleeve and holding up the thin aluminum tube he’d hidden up there by the edge of his shirt-sleeve.

It was shiny and longer than he’d expect for any plumbing project. The inside appeared to be coated with some sort of heavy, non-reactive material, and half of the outside had grooved bands carved into it.

“Someone’s building something,” he said.

“Mid-century sink?” Wade asked, taking the tube.

“Nope,” Peter said.

 --

 NL: That is a lightsaber hilt

NL: where did you get that? It’s like mega accurate. Was it etsy?

PP: I stole it

NL: give it back

PP: I can’t I stole it from Luke Skywalker.

NL: Peter.

NL: we talked about this.

PP: He’s Luke Skywalker. I swear on the grave of my mother

MJ: this is a problem. This is now an intervention.

PP: I will prove it. If he’s Luke Skywalker, then he will do ANYTHING to get this thing back.

NL: and if not?

PP: then I will wait two days before politely tracking down his home address and then I will return it via wall crawling

JS: UM

JS: SORRY

JS: PETER CAN YOU CALL ME?

PP: no

NL: no

MJ: no

JS: are

JS: are you sure??? Because there’s a guy in Reed’s lab right now talking to him and Sue, asking SUPER politely for access to—I shit you not—the crystals we picked up from that space trip the other day???

NL: …

PP: …

MJ: …

PP: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

MJ: fake

NL: no way

PP: WHAT’S HIS NAME, JOHNNY BOY????

JS: I can’t

PP: nope you gotta

JS: I can’t I’m gonna cry I didn’t ask for this

MJ: out with it

NL: please say it’s obi-wan

JS: HHHHHHHHHHH

JS: nope

JS: just a guy named Ben 🙃

PP: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

PP: I told you motherfuckers

JS: right. So like. Awkward. But you uh, know that hilt thing you have?

PP: …is Obi-Wan Kenobi about to beat my ass, Johnny?

 --

 There was something about putting the hilt into the palm of someone more famous than Captain America that made Peter’s knees weak.

It did not help that Luke Skywalker had flirted with him the other night.

It did not help that Luke Skywalker didn’t recognize him as Spiderman.

Nothing helped, really, especially when those big topaz eyes lifted and Peter could see that their rims were red and raw.

“Thanks,” Luke Skywalker—the embodiment of hope itself—said in a soft, defeated rasp.

Every alarm in Peter’s head said to save him. Save him from what? How? Who knew.

Ned and MJ seemed to feel the same way, if the pressure on each of his arms was anything to go by.

“Well, that’s all cleared up, then. Thank you so much for your help; it is deeply appreciated,” a stupidly pleasant gentleman with a perfectly combed beard and lovingly coifed light hair said to the room at large.

Obi-Wan Kenobi—pardon, Ben Kennedi—was far more handsome than any movie could ever dream to make him. What they’d done to him in the 1970s, Peter saw now, was a fucking crime. He watched as this beautiful human being set a warm hand on Luke Skywalker’s—pardon, Luke Naberry’s—shoulder and used it to steer him towards the Baxter Building’s front entrance.

He watched as the two of them, like true Master and Padawan, stepped out onto the landing and opted for the stairs. For one fleeting, unbelievable second, Luke looked back over his shoulder at all of them before taking the next step after his Master.

He was right the other night.

He wasn’t the only jedi. Not anymore.

“So that just happened,” Sue acknowledged for everyone after the door had clicked closed and the sound of footsteps had faded off to nothing.

“I’m going to cry,” Reed announced.

“This is single-handedly the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Ned said.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi walked into our kitchen,” Reed told Sue like she hadn’t been there right next to him.

“The empire is trying to establish itself under our very feet,” Sue said back a little viciously.

“The real empire,” Reed whimpered.

Wait.

No, go back.

“For real?” Peter asked.

Sue and Reed looked back at the rest of them and then exchanged a look.

 --

 Peter was sad now. Depressed and laid out on his side staring back at Valeria’s huge eyes on the floor while Ned and MJ and Johnny asked Reed and Sue two hundred clarifying questions.

Peter didn’t need the specifics. He was thinking back on the conversation that he’d witnessed between Luke and Han Solo—Han Solo who was tall with dark hair and dark eyes and an accent straight out of New Jersey. Solo who had probably been charged with forcing Luke to face the facts in front of all of them because he was the one who Luke trusted most.

But it had shattered them—both of them.

The New Hope had given up everything. He was tired. His heart was torn. He was jaded just like Peter had been that same night. He’d been avoiding the tightrope that Peter had already started crossing, though, probably looking for every possible way to not have to set the first foot on that wobbly line.

He’d walked it before.

Valeria reached out with a chubby, round hand and touched the side of Peter’s face.

“Spiderman,��� she said with terrifying understanding, “Someone needs help.”

He wriggled in close enough to bonk heads with her.

“Baby Storm,” he whispered, “I think you’re right.”

  --

MJ thought that Peter needed to leave things alone. She pointed out that he had plenty of problems without getting involved in universe-saving. She gestured to Johnny and volunteered him for the job.

Johnny refused on account of needing to be the prettiest blond in any room. He claimed that if he wasn’t, he had to fight for dominance.

Ned was on the other end of the spectrum. He had 43 reasons why Peter should get involved with things, and 40 of them ended up in the same place which was ‘it would be cool.’

One of Ned’s better reasons, however, involved pointing out that Peter had already stolen half of a lightsaber. He was good and involved now, whether he wanted to be or not. And that was enough for Peter to decide to go on a hunt to give a formal apology.

He recruited Ned to help him locate Luke Skywalker.

That didn’t work.

They tried Luke Naberry.

That didn’t work either.

They ended up going through every possible iteration of every Star Wars name they knew and then filtered out the people who’d been named by exuberant parents and then filtered out anyone who didn’t live in New York and they ended up with fat lot of still nothing.

It was like Luke Skywalker didn’t truly exist in this world.

Until MJ found his Instagram by typing in ‘guys who look weirdly like Luke Skywalker.’

She held the phone aloft in triumph and they all gathered round to gape in awe at her intelligence and research skills.

Luke’s Instagram was nothing but pictures of coffee.

He had one selfie and this selfie was enough to have gotten him onto a BuzzFeed article. In it he was holding—you guessed it—coffee. Iced coffee. One in each hand.

He was shaking them, and one had been labeled with his name—hence the public connection made.

“Someone needs to tell him that coffee is not a food group,” Johnny observed.

“Maybe he works nights,” MJ said.

Ned lifted an eyebrow.

“Maybe this is his job,” he said.

There was a pause.

Some snooping revealed that Luke was an honest to god food website editor. He was a cameraman.

Repeat. Luke Skywalker, cameraman. He filmed all the food hosts for his company’s Youtube channel. He edited videos. He more or less blended into the background of everything, while having his finger prints on damn near everything.

This was a man after Peter’s own soul. They were kindred spirits in hidden identities, content creation, and suffering under a boulder of responsibility too great to cope with.

He had to find him now.

And after they had his Instagram it wasn’t too hard. He seemed to hang out in various parts of the Bronx and Peter just so happened to know some folks out that way.

 --

 Louis told Peter that he would never speak to him again if he found, befriended, and then didn’t share Luke Skywalker (the man, the real man, I’m not fucking with you, Louis). But he also recognized a place on Luke’s instagram that he seemed to be working his way through the menu of. He sent along an address and told Peter not to forget his promises.

Angel asked why he was looking for Johnny Storm in the Bronx.

Peter left Louis to rattle sense into her.

He took a walk on Saturday morning. A long walk. A long train ride, then a walk, then a half hour of squinting, and then, lo and behold, he found a blond guy banging his head into the center of an out door metal table across from a woman with heavy braids trailing down the sides of her neck. She was much older than him and drummed white-painted fingernails across her cheek as she thought.

Peter hid and called Ned and MJ for an ID. He peeked the phone’s camera out enough for them to see the other two and then snatched it back.

Ned was about to flip a table.

“That’s clearly Ahsoka Tano,” he said. “She—the braids, dude. Dead give-away. And she put ribbons in them, like what even is discretion?”

Peter didn’t know that person. He continued not to know this person, even as Ned dragged him through a trainwreck of Star Wars lore.

“So she’s a friend,” he said.

“She’s like a jedi, but not like a jedi, she was a jedi, but then she said ‘fuck the order’ and—”

Great. Peter was approaching.

Ned held his face in his hands. MJ told Peter to report back on his findings. Peter ended the call and inched closer, weaving through the crowd and slipping into the coffee joint to see what nonsense they were selling.

It was nonsense with lots of syrup. He could never say no to syrup.

He watched the two outside while waiting for his order. Luke gesticulated to his friend and she spoke, giving reasonable gestures back. He stopped her and dug out his phone and that little plastic baggy full of fluffy material. He answered his phone. His friend took the little bag and held it up to the light.

She frowned at it.

Luke pushed away from the table and walked away to take his call. Peter’s order was called. He grabbed it and swerved out towards the patio.

“Hello,” he said at the edge of Luke and his friend’s table. “Is this seat taken?”

Luke’s friend stared at him.

“It is,” she said. “Move along, hon, you’re ten years too young.”

Wow.

“For your friend?” Peter tried. “Could I leave my number?”

He had this lady’s attention now. She was looking him up and down, appraising. Peter tried not to flex. He stayed cool. Matt-levels of cool. He smiled winningly.

“Alright, why not?” she said, digging through her bag for a receipt and a pen. Peter beamed as he leaned down to scrawl his number down on the back. He got halfway through before he heard a step stop nearby.

“Look alive, kid,” Luke’s friend said. “Hey, Luke, this guy was just—”

“You again?” Luke said.

Peter lifted his head and brows.

“Hi,” he said. “I just wanted to apologize.”

There was a long silence.

Luke’s friend looked between them and then gave Luke a long, judgmental stare.

“You don’t have to,” Luke said. “Thanks, though. How did you find me here?”

Mmm. Beginner’s luck.

“Here,” Peter said, offering his number on the receipt. “If you ever need someone to talk to who gets it.”

Luke’s friend bit her lip and looked away in secondhand embarrassment. Peter ignored her for now.

“Thanks,” Luke said. “You don’t and you won’t. But you’re very pretty.”

Nice.

“You’d be surprised,” Peter told him. “Gimme a text. I’ll leave y’all alone now. Enjoy your coffee.”

He left. But not before hearing, “but that ass, Luke.”

 --

 Ned told him that there was no way that Luke was ever going to text him and he was disappointed in Peter’s hostage-taking skills.

But he was proved wrong two hours later and, for his crimes, had to admit Peter’s brilliance publicly.

 LS: hi sorry. This is Luke. This morning when you stopped by our table, did you happen to see a little plastic bag on it?

 Why yes. The one in Peter’s pocket right now? That bag?

 PP: hi!! I did, actually. You guys aren’t very subtle 😏

LS: it’s not coke

PP: I’m not judging

LS: no, it’s not coke, I swear. It’s something INFINITELY more important. Did you happen to see if it had fallen on the ground?

PP: ah, no, sorry. I didn’t see it

PP: OH NO

PP: oh my god I’m so sorry, I think I took it with me when I accidentally took your friend’s pen.

LS: I

LS: what’s your name?

PP: Peter ❤

LS: Peter, you have a fucking problem

LS: I’m starting to think that you want something from me. And listen, you’re a handsome guy, but I’m not available and my type isn’t kleptomaniac. What do you want for it?

PP: well you got me

PP: to talk

LS: about what?

PP: mostly about why you look like you’re a wet phonebook in a bad gutter

LS: a phonebook???? What era are you even from????

PP: I could say the same to you, sir.

LS: I

LS: wh

LS: alright touche. The point is that I’m not going to talk to you. I just need that bag back. It’s a life and death situation.

PP: what are they? They aren’t coke crystals.

LS: how would you know?

PP: what are you, a cop?

LS: NO. This is going nowhere. What. Do. You. Want?

PP: To. Talk.

LS: I’m not going to talk to you.

PP: then why did you ask me to rescue you?

 He held his breath.

 LS: I didn’t

PP: you did

LS: I didn’t ask you for shit. This is it. What’s your last name.

PP: Man 😊

LS: Man what

PP: That’s my last name.

LS: Peter Man.

PP: oop, nope, sorry. That’s someone else.

LS: …so I’m calling the police, now. That’s what we’re saying?

PP: depends. Do you still need to be rescued?

 Come on, Skywalker. Come on, remember.

 LS: I never asked you to rescue me.

PP: You did. Think back.

LS: I didn’t

LS: I just made a joke to

LS: WHAT AFAJSDFA DTTH E FUCK

 Peter cackled and let himself fall onto his back.

 PP: Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii ❤

LS: YOU’RE

PP: Just your friendly neighborhood guy ❤

LS: YOU

LS: you

PP: me

LS: THAT’s how the storms knew you

PP: yep 💋

LS: I don’t even know what to say

PP: it’s okay, you don’t have to say shit. The main thing I wanted you to know was that I hear you. And if you need it, I’ve got you.

LS: You’re literally trying to rescue me??

PP: it’s my job

LS: IT ISN’T. How have you never been arrested? how did you find me? Did you track my phone? Is it some kind of spider thing???

PP: yes

LS: I am legally obligated to kill you with the force now

PP: harder daddy

LS: ADaaSDASFSDFSdd

LS: oh my god Han is going to lose his gourd

LS: I’m sorry I just I can’t believe you of all people stole my damn hilt

PP: I’ve got……………………..sticky fingers

LS: go die

LS: no I didn’t mean that sorry that’s a thing with me and my sister. I mean, okay. You got me. Hero of NYC.

 Peter’s cheeks were starting to hurt.

 PP: I’ll bring them back to you.

LS: Please do, Ben’s about to have a stroke.

PP: you mean obi-wan?

LS: he’s convinced his cat ate them. There’s a staring contest happening. No one has blinked in two minutes and I don’t want to be here for the internal investigation.

PP: where do you live?

 Luke sent an address. Peter held his phone high and walked it into the living room where Ned was bitchily composing an Instagram post. He and MJ looked up at the same time.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Peter said. “Luke Skywalker and Co. live in a cemetery.”

 --

 It wasn’t a cemetery. It was a funeral home, but close enough.

Luke was waiting outside on the stoop in a cardigan about four sizes too big for him. It was there probably to protect him from the equally large ragdoll cat in his arms.

Peter smiled. Luke stared at him and then shook his head and went through the screen door. Ned gave Peter a biting look.

“Made friends, I see,” he said.

“We’re doin’ great,” Peter told him, hopping up the stairs. “Look at us, totally—”

“Insidious.”

Peter stopped and turned nervously to see through the screen door where Obi-Wan Kenobi had seized both of the cat’s cheeks. Luke continued to hold it with maximum doneness levels.

“Where have you been?” Obi-Wan asked the cat seriously.

“We have guests,” Luke said. “Take your beast.”

Obi-Wan snatched the cat out of Luke’s arms with contempt all over his face.

“You are a villain of the highest order,” he told it.

“Ben. Guests. Please evacuate. I am hosting negotiations,” Luke said.

“We should have named you ‘Sith.’”

“Ben.”

Peter was not going to laugh at Obi-Wan Kenobi. That was too surreal.

“Come in,” Luke said, returning to hold open the screen. “I hope you’re not allergic. There are two of them.”

T-two?

“The other one is Junior.”

Peter stepped over the threshold and found himself in a room that looked like a human birdhouse. It was full of surfaces that were almost completely empty, as though an enrichment object had once lived there but had been removed as punishment. Luke waved Ned and MJ in and accepted their apologies on Peter’s behalf.

Peter ignored them to lock eyes with a creature more stunning than any he had ever encountered. It sat on the kitchen counter by a single clear jar labelled ‘Not Spice.’ It blinked grumpy green eyes.

“Oh, it’s these people again?”

They all looked behind them to see Obi-Wan peering around a doorframe with the first cat draped over his shoulders.

“Kleptomaniac,” Luke said, pointing at Peter. Peter waved.

“Huh,” Obi-Wan said simply. “I will distract Ahsoka.”

He vanished. Luke grimaced after him.

“Let’s go talk in the back,” he said. “There are no bodies, I promise.”

 --

 The funeral home had a little deck and a yard small even for this far out in Queens. It was crammed full of plants that appeared to be in a competition to bloom. Luke invited them to sit and then left to make coffee.

Coffee, yes, how had Peter forgotten.

He peeked over the side of the deck down where there was a large stone set in the center of the garden.

“A seeing stone,” Ned whispered to him.

“Oh, how did you know?”

They all jumped.

Peter swore that Obi-Wan hadn’t opened that sliding door. How had—what—

Ned was at a loss for words in the face of one of his greatest heroes.

“I—uh. M-movie? I mean, sorry. It was in The Mandalorian, second season, with the—”

“Yet more television,” Obi-Wan said derisively.

They all stared.

“Can you teleport?” MJ asked him.

“I thought you were bothering Ahsoka?” Luke asked, from inside. He squeezed past the man and his cat with three glass mugs in hand. He set them down on the little square table off to the side of the desk railing.

“I was, but then I got curious,” Obi-Wan said. “And I lost Junior.”

Luke stared at him.

“I’m going to lock you in the basement,” he said.

“Try, try, and try again,” Obi-Wan told him, petting his beloved cat’s head.

“Do you even know who Spiderman is, old man?”

“More television.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Peter had to keep a conscious watch on his jaw, lest it fall open in the face of the most handsome, clueless man on the planet. He watched as Obi-Wan, disgusted with all this ‘television’ nonsense skulked back off into the guts of the home. Luke shut the door behind him.

“So,” he said, holding out his hand. “We’re talking. Fork ‘em.”

Ah.

Fair was fair.

Peter produced the plastic bag from his pocket and handed it over. There was a shout somewhere inside followed by someone going ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

“Ben keeps our home ghost free. He terrifies all the wannabee haunters,” Luke said simply. “Thank you for these. I imagine it’s somewhat of a shock to learn that it’s all real.”

It was, but it wasn’t the weirdest thing Peter had encountered by far.

“How long have you lived in New York?” he asked conversationally.

Luke gave him a weird brow.

He seemed smaller than before in that enormous cardigan. Certainly smaller than the movies made him seem. His face was a little thinner too, and his lips seemed to slope into an almost permanent pout.

“About twenty years,” he said. “We were born in California, but Anakin moved us here when we were eight.”

Anakin? Like, Darth Vader, Anakin?

“’Luke, I am your father’—yeah, that guy,” Luke said with a scoff. “Except, you know, he ain’t dead. And he’s the only one who can make Ben remember that tea isn’t a meal, so we keep him around for that and to scream back at Leia.”

Peter was already completely lost to the dynamics of this household. It wasn’t like the books and movies—Ned’s twitching for his phone to take notes was proof enough of that.

“That’s awkward,” MJ said. “So did y’all do like, collective counselling for the past life shit?”

Luke deflated and moaned into his hands.

“It’s not past life shit if your damn name is the same,” he said. “It’s complicated.”

It sounded like it.

Imagine growing up with your apparently-Star War-obsessed father and uncle who’d built a home and a business (presumably) around that shit, only to find out later that they’d done it because it was literally their religion.

What a trip.

“When did you find out?” Peter asked gently.

“Oh, you know. Last week,” Luke said with a bitter grin. “Quit my fulltime job. Dumped my ex. Broke my lease and now here I am. Once again. Back at this place.”

“Do you want a hug?” Ned asked into the awkward silence.

“You’re very sweet,” Luke said. “If I touch another human, I will start crying and never stop.”

Yikes.

Barely holdin’ on by a thread there, buddy? How’s the hyperawareness going?

“Why does it matter, is my question. For you, I mean,” Luke said with a suspicious squint. “You fought a goblin guy, didn’t you? With a hover board?”

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh, yeah.

Yeah, Peter sure had done that.

“And like, the bird dude? Didn’t you down a plane?”

Perhaps.

But Luke had blown up the Deathstar, no?

“These things are not equivalent,” Luke said flatly. “I joined a rebel alliance. There were loads of us.”

Mmm. Perhaps so.

“God, how old are you even? You look 22.”

Peter gawked.

“I’m 27,” he said.

Luke did a double-take.

“That’s a lie,” he accused. “Tell the truth or be compelled.”

“By the Force?” Ned asked hopefully.

Luke blinked at him. He pointed at the glass sliding door which revealed Obi-Wan holding Junior the cat above his head by the kitchen sink.

“The Force,” he said.

Ned’s face fell.

“Do we not have the Force, here?” he asked.

Luke flinched.

“Listen,” he said abruptly, “We’re workin’ on it. This isn’t our original galaxy. The rules are all different. The only one who’s managed to make even a spark happen is Obi-Wan so far, but as soon as we find Master Yoda, it’s over. We’ll already have won.”

“You lost Yoda,” MJ mused.

Luke stammered and caught himself.

“We lost a lot of people,” he snapped. “It happens when you shift galaxies. Anyways, that’s what the stone is for.”

MJ glanced back at the stone and then leaned her forearms onto the small table.

“So, let me get this straight,” she said. “You jedi folks all popped up over here by some cosmic accident. You don’t have the Force. Most of you don’t even remember who you are. You lost your most experienced Master, and you’re going to fight the Sith?”

Peter stirred his coffee nervously.

Luke’s eye twitched.

“We don’t need the others,” he said. “We only need the Force. To fight the Sith. Yes.”

MJ frowned deep and held her chin with both hands.

“So you need the thing you for sure don’t have the most,” she said.

Luke opened his mouth, but not before the window by the door snapped open and Obi-Wan leaned out to say, “We always have the Force.”

Luke covered his face in despair.

“I was listening from the kitchen window,” Obi-Wan told him lovingly.

“GO FIND CODY ALREADY,” Luke roared at him.

“I did, he’s right here,” Obi-Wan said soothingly, stroking his angry cat.

“The other Cody.”

“Oh, I am trying, don’t you worry.”

“Ben, so help me God—”

“Force.”

“SO HELP ME FORCE—”

Star Wars had really left out the part about Luke’s explosive temper. Peter winced, but Ned laughed and the sound seemed to have a calming effect on Jedi-on-Jedi crime about to take place in the kitchen. Obi-Wan appeared pleased with this development and emboldened. He wove past Luke out onto the desk and came over, cat and all, to point down to the seeing stone in the middle of the garden.

“Others who feel the Force’s energy will be drawn to it,” he told Ned fondly. “It’s how we got Luke back home.”

“It’s not,” Luke said. “You called me.”

“And so others will also come,” Obi-Wan said with confidence. “The most important thing is that we believe in the Force. And from that, we will find guidance and power and—”

“He means Yoda,” Luke translated. “He’s been putting frogs on it as an offering, even though me, Ahsoka, and Anakin told him that this is a human’s world. A human’s world, Ben. Even if he did eat them, he’s not eating them raw.”

“Don’t be discouraged by Luke’s attitude, he is very stressed,” Obi-Wan told Ned and Ned only affectionately. “I told him not to be, you see there are four of us here already, and the Chosen One is among us.”

“Anakin told you to stop calling him that,” Luke moaned, massaging his temples.

“He was the first to be aware of our present situation,” Obi-Wan said.

“He took a hallucinogen and had a paranoid breakdown,” Luke pleaded. “Ben, please. Go inside. Think of your blood pressure.”

“Perhaps, but it was a useful breakdown, was it not?”

“I am so sorry for him, he’s getting senile,” Luke said to the rest of them.

“Your energy is different,” Obi-Wan informed Peter out of absolutely nowhere. “Are you also Force-sensitive? Were you drawn to the stone?”

Er.

No.

Sorry?

“He’s Spiderman,” Luke said, gesturing pointedly. “Remember Spiderman?”

Obi-Wan did not. Peter suspected, actually, that Obi-Wan still used phonebooks, if he used phones at all, that was.

Luke took a deep breath and let it out.

“Okay, let me just lay it out,” he said. “We’re doing the best we can with what we have. You don’t have to get involved with this. We appreciate your help, but what would help us even more is if you stay out of it, alright?”

Yeah, okay. Sure. Peter could respect that.

“Amazing. And don’t tell other people.”

Understood.

“Unless they’re Force-sensitive,” Obi-Wan said. “In which case, ask them how they feel about rocks.”

Luke just stared at him coldly this time.

“You didn’t used to be like this,” he said dangerously.

“No, I used to be stressed,” Obi-Wan told him. “But you and Ani are doing that for me, so I have resolved to be a free spirit. Nice to meet all of you. Have more coffee. I don’t like this one; I will have it out of the house by sundown.”

He left, and possibly for good this time. No one knew what to say in his absence.

“So,” Peter tried, desperate for something to break up the tension. “You said a few days ago that you were looking for someone?”

Luke finally stopped making growling faces towards the sliding door. He lit up like a bulb.

“I am, actually,” he said.

 --

 Luke was looking for a very particular person named ‘Din.’ He described him as ‘six feet tall and covered in armor.’ He asked if they knew of such a person.

Peter had to shove a hand against his mouth in case he made an unwanted connection between this description and Obi-Wan behavior.

“Haven’t,” MJ said. “Who is he?”

“My husband,” Luke said.

Ned choked.

Peter choked.

MJ tilted her head.

“You have a husband?” she asked. “I would have remembered a husband in that series.”

Luke leaned his chin on his palm and gazed sideways over the city. He seemed to sigh.

“I don’t know why he isn’t connected to me in the media created here,” he said. “It’s probably because he’s always been very shy.”

Oh, aw. Peter loved that. The contrast between them was heart-warming.

“We had a son together,” Luke said. “His child. He brought him to me. One of my students, at first.”

Hang on a minute here.

Peter exchanged a glance with Ned. Ned tried very hard to pick a way to approach this sensitively. He landed on asking, “What was his name again?”

“Din,” Luke said. “Din Djarin.”

Ned cringed.

“He was a Mandalorian,” Luke explained. “Very, very, very shy. Like, he would rather chew off his own leg than make small talk with a stranger. I think, before I knew all this, I was still subconsciously looking for him. All my exes are the same type.”

That—

Okay, so like.

Did these people own a TV?

“Do we look like we own a TV?” Luke deadpanned. “No. If Ben senses anything bigger than a datapad happening in this place, he’s driven to madness and breaks it.”

UH?

“He doesn’t actually break it,” Luke sighed. “He just finds a way to make it unusable—putting clothes on it, disconnecting the monitor, that kind of thing. He thinks they waste electricity.”

What a guy. Peter wanted to put him and May in a room and see what conspiracies they could spin together.

“Why do you ask?” Luke asked.

Ned cleared his throat.

“Do you have a, uh, datapad, then?” he asked.

 --

 “DIN. That’s DIN. He’s got his own show. Oh my god, that’s—stay right there. Don’t move.”

Bless this man. Peter wanted to hug him so bad. They’d lost him to the staircase leading up from the second floor to the attic. Peter wondered who he was showing the tablet to.

Maybe Obi-Wan?

“I told you this already,” a voice up there said.

“LOOK AT HIM.”

“You’re killin’ me, smalls. We had this exact conversation last week. Did you forget?”

“You knew where he was.”

“Alright, alright. Downward march.”

Anakin fucking Skywalker came down the stairs with a handful of Luke’s shirt in one hand and the tablet shoved under his other arm. He paused and frowned at the three of them in the kitchen frozen in shock, and then apparently decided that that didn’t matter. He carried on dragging Luke with him towards the kitchen counter. He dropped the tablet onto it and Peter realized that the lower half of his sleeve on that side was empty.

He watched as the guy let go of Luke and chased the not-angry cat off the counter, cursing.

“Alright, this?” he said, tapping on the tablet. “Is the link I put here.” He rapped the same finger on what Peter now saw was a whiteboard covered in rows upon rows of symbols that he’d never seen before.

“Din here? Din here. You see?” Vader told Luke with untold patience.

“I can’t read that,” Luke moaned. “You lied to me.”

“It’s up in the kitchen, Luke.”

“You’re a liar and a cad. Do it in Basic.”

“This is Basic.”

Oh, dear. All that fanfic about Luke meeting Darth Vader and having a breakdown was looking real embarrassed now, wasn’t it?

“If it’s Basic, why can’t I read it?” Luke demanded.

“Because, like I told you last night, the night before, and the night before that,” Vader said painstakingly, “It doesn’t all come back at once. It’s going to take time.”

“We don’t have time,” Luke snapped.

Vader leaned his head back with half-lidded eyes. Luke didn’t look even remotely like his kid, even with him looking all pre-quels-like now.

“We talked about this, too, remember?” Vader asked.

Obviously not. Luke was distressed. He had eyes only for the tablet now.

“No, of course not, silly me,” Vader said. “Why are humans here?”

“Ahsoka went home,” Luke said.

“Thank you, that was not my question.”

“What was your question?”

“Why are non-order humans here?”

“I told you, Ahsoka went—”

“Son, I will kill you if you continue to act like Obi-Wan,” Vader said without missing a beat.

“You can try,” Luke said offhandedly. “But only one of us has two handed grip.”

There was a long stare.

“It’s Obi-Wan,” Vader told him. “Why do we have living guests?”

He gestured back to Peter, Ned, and MJ like they were flies on a set of blinds.

“Oh, because that’s Spiderman and he stole your kyber crystals,” Luke said.

Vader rounded on Peter, and Peter actually felt fear.

Vader blinked once.

“This may as well happen,” he decided somehow placidly. “I’m going back upstairs. Where did your grand-master go?”

“Into the mist,” Luke said. “Can you feel Din?”

“Negative, ghostrider.”

“When the Force chooses you first out of favoritism, can you feel for Din?”

“Ah yes, can I feel for your Force-repellant life partner with all of the Force energy that I do not have? Yes, I sure can.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime, primary monstrosity of my loins.”

UM?

This felt a little hostile for Peter’s tastes. Not that it wasn’t earned. Clearly it was earned. It was just horrifying.

“Guests, you are dismissed,” Vader said in their direction. “Unless you’re drawn to the rock outside, in which case, you may stay. Otherwise, do not darken this doorstep again, or else we will leave you with the other dead in the morgue.”

“Thanks for bringing the crystals,” Luke said from behind him. “And for talking. I do feel better, actually.”

 --

 They left the funeral home. Obi-Wan was outside by the mailbox as though waiting for them. Peter wasn’t sure he had any emotional energy left to approach him with.

“Thank you for speaking to Luke,” he said as the three of them attempted to pass unnoticed. “It’s good for him to talk to others his own age.”

Uh-huh. Good night, sir?

“Good night, Peter, Ned, and Michelle.”

They hadn’t given their names.

They definitely hadn’t given their names.

 --

 Ned wasn’t sleeping for two years. He made this clear with a lot of clapping gestures and then rolled around on the floor, talking about all kinds of shit that Peter couldn’t decipher. MJ watched him and flicked her eyes up to Peter with concern on her forehead.

“That family is cinematically dysfunctional,” she said.

Correct.

“They’re barely their own characters.”

Correct.

“What now?”

Peter wasn’t sure. The best he could think of was to just keep an eye on the situation. Maybe check in every couple of weeks?

“If you say so,” MJ said. “I think you made Ned’s life, by the way. Good job.”

 --

 Peter tried checking in every two weeks. It started because he happened to hear of a tunnel collapsing in Queens nearby the funeral home. He texted Luke to ask if he needed a save and all he got back was a ‘well, not anymore.’

After that, Peter kept a close eye on happenstances occurring around the city. There were more than he bargained for. And when he glanced at Luke’s Instagram after the first week after the tunnel collapse, he noted that two of the nails on the hand Luke held his coffee to the camera with had gone completely black.

That was worrying.

Peter was used to be the danger-prone asshole in his friendgroup. He did not like this role-reversal. MJ asked him sarcastically what the problem was.

He texted Luke again.

 PP: how many nails do you have left bro?

LS: we put a hole in one to release the pressure

PP: that don’t sound great bro.

LS: it’s fine. Oh, but good news

PP: oh?

LS: the most predictable thing ever has happened. The Vader has regained force power

PP: that’s worrying

LS: ? why?

PP: won’t he go dark?

LS: ah, no. He fucked up and raised me and Leia with Ben this time after our mom died. He had his chance to go dark and traded it for 8 consecutive hours of sleep instead.

PP: I truly don’t know what to say

LS: It’s fine we did 12 years of family therapy after the accident so we are no longer on the DSS watchlist

PP: I know less what to say

LS: he won’t find din :/

PP: is that your priority right now?

LS: aren’t you supposed to be spiderman or something? Don’t you have chaotic things to say?

PP: you know normally I do, this is literally out of character for me. but I think you also might be absorbing my chaos.

LS: that’s fair. I have that effect on people. Hey, is your buddy Ned available to chat? He knows more than I can remember about my old life. Can I borrow him?

 That sounded like a horrendous decision.

 PP: yeah let me get you his number.

LS: thanksssss

  --

Ned reported a few days later that his services were needed at the funeral home. He was leaving them all now to befriend Luke Skywalker as was his true destiny.

He came back a few hours later and reported that his services had been helpful and he was pleased to say that Darth Vader was now the official herder of ‘wans’ in the house. This included all Obi-Wans and padawans.

He seemed to be the only guy there who could like, retain information given to him for some reason. He accepted this as his lot in life and went around repeating the same things to the others ad nauseum until they finally stuck for them.

Peter wondered if that was his personal hell.

Ned didn’t think so. He thought the guy was pretty chill about it and had probably been doing it for a while now. He did it more for Ahsoka Tano and Luke than he did for Obi-Wan. Although that was probably because Obi-Wan appeared to be on a hunt that made all non-relevant information given to him slip off his back like water.

 --

 Another two weeks. Another text.

 PP: hey luke, I saw you drowning on the news. You okay?

LS: GOD my ex-workplace keeps calling welfare checks on our house. We’ve had more cops here then flies these last few days.

PP: ex-workplace is one way to refer to your old job. Sounds like they cared about you. What did you do?

LS: preschool teacher.

 Peter was going to lose his shit right here on this bed.

 PP: was that your calling?

LS: that was Luke Naberry’s calling. Luke Skywalker’s calling is to make the lightsaber go vrrrrrrm

PP: you honestly terrify me

LS: thanks han says the same thing. OH. HE FOUND CHEWIE.

PP: no shit??

LS: yeah I told Ned, not you. But yeah. He found him lugging boxes for a bodega. And now they both work at the same bodega. Which like, objectively, is a bad thing because Han was a UN translator.

PP: I’m

PP: sorry

PP: what?

LS: I know he was all respectable and shit. It was awful. I can look at him again without feeling like I’ve failed in every part of my life.

PP: dare I ask what your sister does?

LS: lawyer

PP: not senator?

LS: we’re not old enough to be senators.

PP: every moment becomes more concerning than the next. You fascinate me. This is why they put you in like, all the films.

LS: because I’m sexy yeah

PP: that too

LS: not to you. I’m off-limits bub. I’m married.

PP: how’s that going for you?

LS: Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

PP: I see. So no Din yet?

LS: I will find him if it kills me

PP: that’s so romantic. Hey you should watch that series. They gave him a little green yoda in it. Really cute.

LS: that’s my son you piece of shit

 There was no winning here.

 --

 MJ asked him a few weeks later if he was still keeping up with the Jedi drama since the whole city had recently decided that Peter was a snack.

Obviously he hadn’t.

She told him not to worry, Ned had. She told him to talk to Ned, so he went and talked to Ned with a heatpad in one hand and a coldpack in the other.

Ned patted at him sympathetically and informed him that Luke had reunited with the Force. It was going poorly for him, mostly because the Force wasn’t used to people being in touch with it in these parts of the universe. It kept telling each of the jedi that there was a disturbance and then luring them to each other to fight to the death.

Luke described it as the Force-equivalent of an auto-immune disease.  

They’d taken to gathering in the living room of the funeral home to meditate in a circle, as though to calm the Force’s anxiety while scenting each other for protection.

It had a 40% success rate. Everyone was sleeping in locked rooms for the time being, just in case someone got compelled to do something rash.

Peter asked Ned if he’d finally lost his crown as King Chaos of NYC.

Ned patted him on the knee more firmly than before and said that he could regain his crown by introducing a calming element into the jedi household.

Peter had his pride to defend, so he asked what that element ought to be.

  --

Din Djarin, the Mandalorian, the leader of all Mandalorians, was bound to have a name that looked nothing like the one they had for him. Luke nearly exploded when Peter approached him to asked him (and his taped fingers) more about who Din Djarin was outside the name.

They proceeded with caution, however. So far, Peter and Ned had discovered only dissonance between Luke’s account of his life partner (his ‘heart, stars, sun, and sand’) and the guy on the screen for the tv show. That was to be expected, given that they had met Luke now and learned of his somewhat explosive personality.

But even still, Luke’s description of Din Djarin as ‘kind, compassionate, tender, shy, emotionally stable, dependable, sweet, caring, and hunky’ seemed slightly biased.

Peter just wanted to know how tall this guy was. Hair color. Eye color. Skin color. Blood type. That kind of shit.

Luke said that Din had brown hair, brown eyes, Type Who Knows What blood, and was about six feet tall. He had no idea how much he weighed. He’d never had need for that information. He knew that Din was human, which was probably helpful in a galaxy far, far away. He knew that he spoke Mando’a as his first language, then Basic, then a whopping fifteen others. And he knew that Din was probably looking after their son.

Vader asked Peter over a mug of coffee (also labeled in the funeral home’s cabinet as ‘not spice.’) if Spidersenses could overcome a dearth of information. It took Peter a few moments to realize that he was sympathizing with him.

“You’re not going to find Din,” Vader told Luke. “You need to look for the kid. You’ll find the kid first, you always have.”

Luke took his coffee and poured it down the drain.

Peter decided that he didn’t want to get in between that burgeoning battle. He told Luke to text him if he remembered anything else.

  --

Wade was pissed that Peter had been meeting and ‘cavorting’ with Luke Skywalker without him. He claimed ownership of the Din Djarin mystery in order to cram himself into Luke’s good graces. But quickly, he ran into the same stumbling blocks as Peter.

Din Djarin was six feet tall with brown eyes and brown hair.

That was what they currently had to go on.

Wade would have torn out his hair if he had any, but he stopped himself and accepted the challenge. Peter watched over his shoulder as he chicken-pecked his way into a list of social security numbers held by the NYC State ID issuing department and started methodically filtering names that did not sound like ‘Din.’

He started broad with all ‘D’s and then narrowed it down further and further and further until he was left with a shitload of Daniels.

He stared at the screen before him and vibrated.

Peter massaged his shoulders before he cracked.

It helped. Wade started filtering by height, then by eye color. Then by hair, and only ended up with several hundred people.

He vibrated again, but this time, Peter couldn’t help him.

He sighed. Wade said that there had to be a better way to do this. He got up.

  --

Wade made about four thousand missing posters with the name Din Djarin on them which he recruited the whole team to plaster up around NYC. This was not a request.

Miles asked him why they were doing this for a tv character and had to be let in on the gig.

He lost his shit.

Louis tried to retain his shit.

Angel still didn’t know how the whole jedi thing worked.

Dave hummed and haw’ed and took his time in calling bullshit. Wade asked him to look deep into his eyes and ask if he was entertaining bullshit that fine evening.

Dave changed his opinion and took a stack.

  --

There was no way that shit was supposed to work. There was just no way. A) because Wade had the worst ideas of all mankind and B) because Peter had the worst luck of all mankind. So the two of them together should have destroyed all the prospects of success for that job.

But instead, while they were hatching a new plot involving setting up a sham sociological study for people who responded to Star Wars names, Wade’s phone went off.

He grabbed it and opened the message and lo and behold right there was a note that read,

“I hope you are not a reporting body because this is going to sound certifiably insane, but I think I might be the guy you’re looking for?”

Wade screamed.

Peter scolded him not to get too excited too soon. They had to see the man first.

Wade texted furiously, asking for a picture and got a message back that said, “please do not dox me.”

They got no answer until Wade promised not to dox the guy.

And then they got an image of a man with brown hair and brown eyes with olive skin. His face was remarkably square. The picture wasn’t just him, though, he had in his arms a little boy with a head covered in tight ringlets. His eyes were so dark they were nearly black and he was maybe two years old.

The caption said, “apologies, my son needed to be in the picture.”

Wade cooed and entered Dad Mode to ask how old the baby was and what he liked to do and Peter lost the fathers to that small talk for a while before Wade oh-so-casually asked, “So you feel like you’re from outer space?”

“It sounds strange,” the guy on the other said wrote back, “But I do. Like every day I wake up and look in the mirror and something is wrong. I feel like I’m always forgetting something when I leave the house. I watched the tv show of the guy who’s name was on your fliers and the kid in it reminds me so much of my son. It’s eerie. They make the same sounds. He made the same sounds before we even watched that show.”

Wade whistled.

“I think this is him, Pete,” he said. “He called Baby Yoda a ‘kid’ not a yoda.”

Peter stared. He hadn’t even caught that. That was smart as hell.

“So what now?” he asked.

Wade sniffed.

“Get Skywalker to send you a selfie,” he said.

  --

PP: Luke are you pretty right now?

LS: My face is intact

PP: take a selfie and send it to me

LS: cannot do that. Face is intact is a baseline situation. Let me find an old one. Oh, they all have my ex in them. This is awkward.

PP: it doesn’t matter I can crop it.

LS: no I have to be cute or I’ll perish hold on

PP: are you sure you’re not Johnny Storm?

LS: yes, he’s got loads of muscles. Sent.

 Selfie acquired.

Luke looked very smiley in it. His eyes were blown out from the lighting, but it showed his sloping smile and his low, back-set dimples. Peter sent it to Wade. Wade sent it to his new friend.

They waited.

They waited five minutes.

Then ten.

Then half an hour.

Then nearly two.

And finally, Wade’s phone rang. He picked it up and set it on speaker so that Peter could hear.

“Hello?” Wade said.

There was a long pause.

“Where did you get that picture?” a low, almost smoky voice demanded on the other side.

“A friend,” Wade said sleazily. “You know him? He’s a cute little thing, ain’t he?”

It took the dude on the other side of the line worryingly long to respond.

“What do you want?” he finally asked.

Wade brought his head down in interest.

“What’re you willing do to?” he asked.

They waited. Peter didn’t know what was taking this guy so long to—

“Anything.”

Ah.

Okay. That.

That sounded about right.

Wade cackled.

“You know his name?” he asked.

“I do,” the man said.

“What’s his name then, pal?” Wade asked.

“It’s none of your fucking business.”

Holy shit. Holy shit. Peter clutched the back of the couch. Wade was grinning so hard, Peter could see it through his mask.

“You want him, you need to show me that you know who he is,” Wade said. “I ain’t got ‘im here, but I know where he is. Come on, big boy. Who is he?”

Peter could hear the man take in a deep, shaky breath.

“His name is Luke,” Din fucking Djarin, the Mandalorian himself, said.

  --

Din fucking Djarin’s name at the moment was Danny Jabaran. He stood six feet tall with a medium build and that baby of his in his arms.

He was not afraid of Wade.

He was not afraid of Peter.

The suits didn’t scare him; this man was a space warrior. The leader of the space warriors. Peter was humbled to stand in his presence, old jeans and tattoos and all.

“Vigilantes,” he acknowledged.

“Deadpool,” Wade said, offering a hand. “And this is?”

“Grogu,” Djarin said.

Baby Yoda lifted his big liquid eyes up to Wade and blinked twice. Then he wriggled around and hid in Djarin’s neck. Djarin put a hand on his back and didn’t drop eye contact.

“Tell me everything,” Djarin said.

  --

Ned screamed. Michelle screamed. Peter reminded them that he had neighbors and invited Mr. Mand’alor to sit on the couch for a bit while he called Luke.

Michelle claimed the spot next to Djarin and asked Baby Yoda Grogu for his little hand. He studied her and hid again, making a prolonged sound of distress that Djarin cut off by saying, “Hey. Manners.”

This somehow made baby Grogu turn back to Michelle to stare at her offered hand.

He took it. She shook with him and then took hers away.

Grogu perked up and reached for it again.

“You’re the Mandalorian,” Ned said.  

Djarin looked right at him.

“A Mandalorian,” he corrected.

Ned blinked back tears.

“You’re so cool,” he creaked.

Djarin frowned.

“You...are too?” he tried.

Ned wept into a fist.

Peter left them to call Luke in his bedroom. Luke picked up on the third ring with the start of an ingrained greeting that sounded a whole lot like a customer service recording. He caught himself, though.

“I have someone I’d like you to talk to,” Peter said. “I think you might want to sit down.”

Luke’s unusual quiet on the other side made Peter grin.

“Are you sitting?” he asked.

“I’m sitting.”

“Alright, one moment,” Peter said, walking out into the living room. Djarin had edged far, far away from Ned, as far as he possibly could without being rude. He looked up when Peter came over and sat down on the arm next to him.

“Say hi,” Peter said.

Djarin frowned at him and then the phone.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

Peter waited. Djarin lifted his head over to see the phone’s screen.

“Hello?” he tried.

“Din?”

The Spidey Sense crashed through Peter like a tidal wave.

Djarin had gone completely still.

“Din? Is that you? Can you hear me?”

“Shit,” Djarin said, lifting a hand to cover his eyes. “Goddamnit. Jesus.”

“DIN.”

“Dank Fucking Farrik.”

“Oh my god.”  

Baby Grogu’s face snapped toward the phone with huge eyes. He grabbed at Djarin’s collar, then his jaw and started bouncing a little in his arms.

“Bu?” he asked.

Djarin couldn’t make himself move.

“Grogu?” Luke asked. “Hey, baby, is that you, bubba?”

Grogu grabbed Djarin’s face urgently, so that he couldn’t hide his raw eyes anymore.

He pointed at the phone.

“Yeah, I hear ‘im, kid,” Djarin said.

“MMMMM. Gib.”

“Ah. That’s not ours. We don’t grab. We ask,” Djarin reminded as Grogu pleaded for the phone. Peter snickered and gave it to him. He just held it, staring.

“Do you wanna see him?” Peter asked. “Luke, can we maybe video chat?”

“Y-yeah,” Luke said. “Hold on. Oh god, my face. Uh, hey Din are you still near-sighted, hon?”

Djarin huffed a laugh that turned into a whole-body tremor.

“I got contacts,” he said a little hysterically.

“You got WHAT?” Luke yipped, “Okay, no. No, I gotta. Be still, this heart. Okay let me just take off the butterflies. On moment, Grogu, Daddy’s just gotta dunk his face in the damn sink.”

MJ bounced her eyebrows at Peter as he gently took the phone back from Grogu and tapped on the camera. He offered it back the kid and received a deep gaze of wonder in return. Djarin turned the screen right-side up in his hands.

Luke finally turned his camera on and revealed himself to be very swollen in the jaw with damp hair and a cut very close to the rim of his left eye.

Grogu screeched.

Luke laughed.

“Look at you,” he said, “I’m gonna cry. Oh my god. Where’re your ears, pal?”

Grogu analyzed this reaction for 2 full seconds and then shoved the camera right into his dad’s forehead. Djarin took it from him and liberated himself so that he could see Luke who was clutching at his face, absolutely already sobbing, bless him.

He looked up to see Grogu and instead got Djarin and finally just broke right in half.

Peter swallowed back the growing lump in his throat. His eyes were starting to warm a little.

Djarin found a watery smile in himself.

“I know you’re not cryin’ because of me,” he said gently.

“Where’s your helmet?” Luke sobbed, wiping viciously at his eyes. “People are watching, you harlot.”

“I know,” Djarin said. “I lost it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Luke.”

“This is all my fault. I should’ve—I should’ve—”

“Luke,” Djarin said again, full of warmth, “You died for us.”

Luke shook harder than ever.

“There is no greater sacrifice a warrior can make,” Djarin told him. “I was honored for you to have made it for me and our son. This has always been the Way.”

“This is the Way,” Luke stammered.

“I missed you,” Djarin said. “Where in God’s name have you been?”

“I was a preschool teacher in the Bronx, man, I dunno what happened,” Luke said tipping his face up to force the tears back in.

“In the Bronx? Where?”

“Uh, off Allerton and Lurting?”

Djarin started shaking with laugher.

“I work off Laconia and Mace,” he said.

“You what?”

“We’ve been blocks apart this whole time.”

Awwwwww.

“I’m going to stab myself,” Luke moaned. “I’m going to stab myself in the arm. I was right there and I sold out for my part-time gig barely weeks ago. Oh my god. I’m going to—move, old man, I’m suffering—Wait. Din, did you find your parents?”

Djarin stood up and held the phone out straight.

“Where are you right now?” he asked.

  --

Look at all these people hugging each other.

Look at them crying all over. There was a baby in there, wailing because he was so happy to be back in the arms of his other dad.

Aww. AWWWW. Peter was getting emotional again, he was going to see himself out.

“Wait. Peter.”

He looked up to find Luke holding a hand to him.

“Thank you,” he said. “You really are a superhero, you know that?”

Yeah.

Sometimes, he did.

 --

 The city had plenty of problems as it was, yeah, more now with a bunch of jedi running around, linking up with each other and spreading memory like mushroom spores. But it didn’t feel that much different.

What it felt like now was Ned showing Grogu how to hold his hand at the seeing stone in the funeral home’s back yard to make the Force happen while Obi-Wan reported cheerfully that the cat perched on it was still not levitating.

It also felt like watching Luke freak out over text to Ned and Michelle about his ex losing their mind at him dumping them after two years to marry this random mechanic within a week of getting together.

Peter got to see this from new angles, too, one of which was the bottom of the funeral home’s attic stairs, which Anakin Skywalker liked to sit on while his grandkids—both Grogu and Han Solo and Leia Organa (pardon, Leia Naberry)’s son—came over to show him things that he was very well aware of. These were stolen from him by Auntie Ahsoka and her friends who Ned knew and Peter did not.

And there was something warming about how even these folks—people from a galaxy far, far away, occasionally needed a Spiderman.

   --

[gospelofme]

The Violinist

Crosshair x female reader

No warnings

Part 1

Crosshair was thankful for the helmet securely covering his features. Still, he had a feeling Admiral Tarkin could feel the hard glare he was giving him. A bodyguard?! Him?! No kriffing way. He was an elite soldier. Not some petty butler with a blaster. Did he upset Tarkin at all? Crosshair thought back, he didn’t think so.

“You’ll be escorting me to the concert hall tonight Commander.” was all Tarkin had ordered. Crosshair almost asked why, but he bit his tongue and nodded. Hunter had occasionally complained about command, so this was likely normal. Crosshair didn’t know the first thing about concerts or what would be shown there. Thankfully Tarkin was the one actually attending the performance, all Crosshair had to do was stand in the shadows and make sure no one tried to snipe the Admiral. Easy enough.

That evening, Crosshair largely ignored the idle chit chat that was happening behind him in the luxury speeder. Admiral Tarkin and Admiral Rampart were discussing some performer at the concert they were about to see.

“She’s quite the little talent. She’ll be performing some cello pieces tonight as well as violin.” Rampart informed.

“Yes, her father told me she taught herself cello this past year.” Tarkin replied. Of course he dropped a hint that he knew this performer’s family personally. Crosshair rolled his eyes.

Coruscant’s grand concert hall was quite the architectural marvel. It had a more artistic vibe than the other buildings around it. Operas and galas were held here as well. Tarkin’s driver pulled around to the back of the facility, to the VIP entrance. Crosshair exited the speeder and waited as the driver opened the door for the Admirals. Both men were dressed in their military dress uniforms, shiny medals clinking with every movement. There were stares from civilians and concert hall employees alike, Crosshair startled to see more of them focused on him than the decorated admirals. He didn’t like the eyes.

The Admirals led the way, all the elite soldier had to do was follow a couple paces behind. The two men made a b-line for a couple who was chatting with some members of the press.

“Yes, we are most proud of her. She’s worked so hard for this and has spent many nights practicing for hours.” The woman gushed.

“We’ve been told she’s the youngest instrumentalist to be appointed to the Grand Coruscant Philharmonic, how exciting is that?” The reporter asked. Crosshair rolled his eyes at the question.

“It feels pretty exciting to be sure. At least for us. You’ll have to ask our daughter after the performance.” The man replied. The couple excused themselves from the press and began to make small talk with the Admirals.

The constant buzzing of people talking and the clinking of medals and glasses, the irritating high-pitched laughter of a woman in the crowd, made Crosshair grind his teeth. His head throbbed painfully, the pain pill he had taken before wasn’t kicking in fast enough. Thankfully he was largely ignored by the masses, except for the few stares and whispers he received from attendees.

“Commander, we’re going to our seats now.” Tarkin’s voice cut through the other noises. Crosshair gave a nod and followed, apparently the Admirals were sitting with this performer’s parents. Wonderful, Crosshair thought sarcastically.

“Why the security Admiral?” The man asked.

“Emperor Palpatine considered it a wise idea to have some security when I’m in a crowded place.” Tarkin explained. Crosshair eyed every person they passed, whether it was an attendant or an usher. Once the Admirals were seated in the large box that overlooked the performance hall, Crosshair allowed himself to fade into the shadows.

This box would be perfect for a sniper. Especially when it got dark. Of course he’d have to mask the muzzle flash somehow. He could see everything from this angle. The entrance to the large gallery down below, sound and lighting crew a few feet above them. The main stage and backstage were obscured by an ornate, heavy curtain but that was no matter. They’d raise it soon and he suspected he’d have a good view of that as well. The icing on the cake was that everyone was distracted and not looking up towards his location.

Tag list

@leias-left-hair-bun @escapedthesarlacc @halzore @eyecandyeoz @thatonegreyghost

[ariainstars]

Thank You, Disney Lucasfilm… For Destroying My Dreams

Warning: longer post.

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

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

Sigh.

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

  The Fantasy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chekov’s Gun

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

(Anton Chekov, 1860 - 1904)

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

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

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

  The Skywalker Family Is Obliterated. Why?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Star Wars and Morality

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

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

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

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

Kylo Ren / Ben Solo

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

Rey

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

In General

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  And What Now?

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

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

Still no Balance in the Force?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We’re Not Blind, You Know…

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

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

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

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

Bonus: What Made The Rise of Skywalker a Farce

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

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

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

[nettlestonenell]

Armie Hammer wants a sequel to The Man From U.N.C.L.E.—shouldn’t you?

This post is a long time in coming, Gentle Readers and @jammeke​, but now, though it might be here, before your very eyes, to think it will be well-laid out would be a mistake. It’s set to be just about as messy as Ilya’s misplaced loyalties and murky motivations.

How dare!

I probably first watched this film well over a year ago (courtesy @jammeke​ posting things about it). I used Sling OnDemand (I think on TNT). In the ensuing viewings I also watched it in that way, but as I was sitting down for a fourth(?) viewing, it kept coming to me that I was tired of watching it with commercials I couldn’t skip, and I had a sneaking suspicion that it had been edited for time and I was missing out on scenes. [pointless aside: I was also watching the film in chunks, and never as a whole]

Where is she now? What’s the time stamp? How far along did she get? Are you shagging the hotel hostess yet?

So, I, uh, set out to buy it on DVD—without any luck! In the sense that copies I could find cost more (w/ shipping) than buying it to stream. So, I bought it to stream on Amazon. Do I regret my choice, Gentle Readers? No, no I don’t. I do regret burden of knowledge in learning that TNT was already playing the entirety of the film. That was a hard pill to swallow.

Nope, I’ve looked. That’s absolutely everything. Nothing additional lurking around here...

So here it is, as it is, @jammeke, “My Notes on The Man from U.N.C.L.E.”

Look, I don’t know what this film is. I probably can’t fully articulate its appeal. Or maybe I can--certainly after transcribing four page I’ve tried. Number One thing to know about me and fiction/films is that a top draw for me is seeing something out of the ordinary, such as beautiful locations, a historical era, delicious costumes. There are times, frankly, this can trump weak story and undefined character for me. (The best films, of course, combine all three) Certainly, The Man... delivers in the delight of the eyes. Additionally, I must confess that growing up as a person older than @reblogginhood​ but younger than Miss Fisher, so much of what was on TV was essentially reruns of this film’s iconic Look(tm). So, when I see women dressed like Gaby I am just another three-to-seven-year-old overcome with the drop dead glamour of it all.

Darling, tell me how you really feel...

Some questions I have:

·         IS Armie Hammer a hulk of a man? Everyone in this film seems to think so, yet he always tracks to me as trim (rather than hulking)

·         Why translate via captions some Russian speaking, but not all?

·         IS Napoleon’s backstory directly cribbed from USA’s White Collar?

·         DOES Gaby have a German accent?

·         Does Ilya get preternaturally attached to all the people he’s ordered to look after? Also, what is his bonding rate with kittens?

Sorry, wrong iteration. 

 ·         If Lady Villain knows the lens is wrong—if her technical understanding is that in-depth--does she really need Gaby’s dad to make the bomb?

·         How old was Gaby during the war?

·         What happens when Ilya gets a NEW puppy assigned to him? (please let this be addressed in film #2)

Hooray for:

·         That bathroom fight! *all the Burn Notice feels!

·         Gaby is her own lady, and chooses sides as necessary—not always unilateral in her support for either male character. Case in point: she sides with Ilya over the clothes, and Napoleon over the incident of the wallet.

·         That delicious (speaking as Rusty, here) Ocean’s 11-stylized action. It’s pretty, so I’m not bored with it. Sometimes a sandwiched montage gets shown, so I’m REALLY not bored. I’ve got 18 tiny moving boxes of things to look at!

·         Pinkie rings. There, you’ve told me everything I need to know about that character.

·         Solo in a beret. English has not yet found a word for the feeling it evoked in this viewer. Somewhere between ‘precious’ and ‘oh, no’.

See, there? Now you’ve felt it too.

·         Goggles! All the accessories! Dune Buggies! (I mean, that’s what I’m calling Napoleon’s chase-scene ride)

Things I adore:

·         It seems (after some research) that more than a few folks view Gaby as a third wheel, and though she’s not exactly a Princess Leia commandeering her own rescue and exuding competence and a deserved take-charge-attitude at every corner, she IS a foci for both male characters (though romantically it would seem only for one), just as Ilya is a foci for both her and Napoleon [no one seems to worry about Napoleon, though they should--film #2, anyone?]

·         Mechanic Gaby not needing a beauty makeover, or being dragged into one. She gets some nice clothes, but it’s never suggested that she’s not attractive or acceptable before putting them on, and I respect, nay, embrace it.

Oh, my heart. She’s still not as tall as them!

·         Ilya, drab pigeon Ilya, knowing fashion

·         Oh man, don’t even get me started on the power of the statement, “it doesn’t have to match”

·         You knew it was coming on this sublist: the wrestle-fight. I mean, c’mon. Poor little Gaby, locked behind the Iron Curtain, living a life of always being watched. She’s in the swankest hotel (I mean, Napoleon chose it, so we can be sure it’s swank with an E). She’s trying to celebrate her freedom, her liberation. She’s playing verboten music, she’s drinking to excess. Girl wants—and deserves—a party. And Ilya is…not built for that (that he knows of). For some fun, just imagine if she had been given Napoleon to room with instead.

                            o   I will say that this scene, and some of their other interactions have what I would call early (non-sibling) Luke and Leia energy. Ilya seems to have moments of being struck by Gaby in a way Luke is struck by Leia in the early part of the trilogy. When Leia takes charge, and Luke accepts it. When Leia does something incredible, and Luke is left open-mouthed. *no, I don’t see OT Star Wars in everything. Shut up.

·         “He fixed the glitch.”

·         Again, shout-out to the non-action action.

·         “I left my jacket in there.”

·         The whole race to rescue Gaby I am in love with beyond words. [I have noted it as “Crazy Jeep Drive with Warhead!”] Probably b/c it comes across as totally egalitarian. Both men want her rescued. They’re no longer in competition. It’s just as important to Napoleon as it is to Ilya to catch up to her. Also, it is bonkers, like some sort of X-games version of a commercial for the vehicles they’re driving. And screaming Willie Scott does not make an appearance.

         Someone says “winkle” out.

·         Look! Another note about the screen divisions and how I love it, shout-outs to the original Steve McQueen The Thomas Crown Affair (a contemporary of when this movie is meant to be set), and TV’s 24.

Things that get a great, big NOPE:

·         Jerrod Harris: you’ve been in so much streamable content in the last decade I can’t hate you, but frankly, you’re terrible here—unless you’re supposed to be giving a mannered, not-campy-enough-to-be-enjoyable performance here. Your American English puts me in the mind of Alex Hawaii 5-0′Loughlin where it feels you’re concentrating so hard on your accent that you fail to convince anyone that you’re a harried, over-worked and exasperated spy handler. Your performance is at odds with every bit of dialogue you’re given to say.

·         That awful, mishandled title that doesn’t even connect to the film until the final moments (a sequel set-up, for sure)

·         Look, you don’t introduce Hugh Grant casually mid-way through your film in a throwaway appearance. I mean, he’s HUGH GRANT we all know something’s up now.

·         This is not exactly a great big NOPE, b/c I love a flat cap, Tommy Shelby—but I feel like a less tall man with a far rounder face in a flat cap would track more as Russian to me that AH does. To me, he just looks like he’s about to go golfing.

Over par? Unacceptable!

·         Is Victoria a British-accented Italian? A British woman who married—what? Gaby’s uncle isn’t Italian!? An Italian who went to school in Britain? My head hurts. Also, is her hair meant to be unconvincingly bleached?

Other commentary:

·         Napoleon’s adult ne’er-do-well backstory is so far from being emotionally equivalent to Ilya’s childhood trauma [and his enslavement to the USSR] it seems bestial when he calls it out on multiple occasions. Badly done, Solo.

·         Gaby is the film’s key (sorry, Buffy fans). Everyone is connected to her. Yes, she could have been given a bit more on the character front, but I don’t see her as as much of a flaw in the film as some others/reviewers seem to.

·         Look, essentially (and not very nuanced-ly), Ilya is a stalker. I think the film goes a certain distance in establishing that his early behavior toward Gaby is not normal, but concurrently it does not truly call him out on it. He’s essentially viewed as an odd-duck, sure, but not a true threat to her (should she not reciprocate or tolerate his intensity toward her). I think I might be able to cite his behavior when Gaby comes on to him (that he doesn’t jump at a chance with her) that maybe he’s given a little more nuance than a straight-on stalker, and it helps that he and Napoleon never get into a pissing match over Gaby’s person, only over her new clothes. But overall the film has to walk a fine line (and the jury is still out on how successful it is, I’d say) between playing Ilya’s laser-like attention to Gaby for its humor, and calling it out for the unsettling, threatening behavior it is.

·         Honestly, it wasn’t until I engaged the Closed Captioning that I understood Napoleon was calling Ilya the ‘Red Peril’. So, that was nearly three viewings in.

·         I give the screen credits A+, on both ends. Not to mention the end credits are actually INTERESTING with lots to see and learn! (Certainly we learn more about HG in them than we do at any time during the film)

Things I would have liked:

·         More of fish-out-of-the-Iron-Curtain Gaby moments

·         A better dichotomy shown of East vs. West Berlin/Germany. There’s nothing easy either visually or otherwise to distinguish the two.

·         HC being given a more specific American accent (from an actual locality). This, for an American viewer, works better than the flat, unlocated American accent many a British actor will bust out. *Mind you, HC does a generally good job, but he fails utterly on both “Immediate” which he pronounces at least twice as “immeedeejt” [rather than imm-E-deeot] and “Nazi” as “NAHT-zee” [rather than “NOT-zee”]. And let’s not get started on that late in the film use of ‘earnt’, a word that—well, it’s just not in the American English twentieth century lexicon.

·         C’mon. You gotta tease the Hugh Grant more.

·         Solo is a blank before the war. I’ve read thoughts on the film calling out Gaby as the blank character, but they’re wrong. Solo is the blank. He’s the ‘made’ man, his identity seemingly assembled during the war and after. For example, he doesn’t go into the war a thief, nor (it would seem) a particularly educated or urbane individual. Now THAT’s a juicy backstory I’d love to learn about, perhaps in film #2--or #3? What creates a Napoleon Solo? What would he be doing if he weren’t on the government’s leash/incarcerated? Is anyone left caring about him back wherever he calls home? I mean, who doesn’t love a gender-flipped 60s-era Holly Golightly backstory? [And yes, I would love there to be an ex-wife or even a current wife mixed up in his origins as well—Guy Ritchie, call me!]

Notes I have that I’m not sure if they still make sense to me:

·         Only mom calls me Napoleon (do he say it ‘mum’?) Is he a secret Canadian?

·         Solo’s torture, 1st view recall Napoleon’s childhood? *I think this means that after watching the first time I somehow erroneously believed that during the torture Napoleon’s childhood was a topic gone over. This was wrong. HOWEVER, this would have made far more story-sense than the backstory we’re given on an easily disposeable villain.

·         “Even the average Russian agent. You’re special.” ?

·         Uncle is Baddie (*so glad I made this note to myself)

·         Ilya’s dad IS an embarrassment. I’m not sure what genius commentary I had in my mind, here. Perhaps that Ilya himself is embarrassed of him? Not just Ilya’s handler’s? [Also, aside: Napoleon totally slut-shames Ilya’s mom, which is the doublest of double standards from ‘I got myself the biggest and most ornate suite b/c I-wanted-plenty-of-space-for-my-random-seductions’ and I really wish Ilya had thrown that back in his face] *yes, of course I know that Ilya and Napoleon would not likely equate a wife/mother’s sexual exploits with that of Solo’s, but let’s be honest, this film tweaks the nose of (I won’t say reverses, it doesn’t go that far) plenty of tropes and gender expectations, and this certainly seems like a missed opportunity to call Solo on the carpet (which I hope film #2 does far more)

Things I wrote down so long ago I don’t recall what they mean:

·         CC-save

In conclusion:

What does film #2 look like? What title does it get? Will the Peter/Neil White Collar dynamic continue to grow? *note that I have no confidence a second film will ever come to pass...

In the end, all I know is, “It didn't help when American Tom Cruise, who was slated to play U.S. spy Napoleon Solo, dropped out, prompting the casting of Cavill (who had previously read for the Russian role).“ I would not have watched that film.

[gabriel4sam]

Not special, a little Star Wars fic

Hey @jubblesbubbles, remember when you told me I should write a Dex/Obi-Wan, when I was doing the extra rair pairing writing stuff? And I didn’t write it, because there already are Dex/Obi-Wan stories, it wasn’t inexistant?

It’s very very light on romance to be honest I’m not happy with it, but Padme invited herself and then refused to leave!

Also, I totally forgot you wanted Rebellion in this and I killed Palpy, my bad.

Not all loves are planet-burning fires. Not all love are life-changing, taking everything else with them when finished.

Not all love can push someone to burn the Republic down and to put a hand in genocide, just to be sure a certain Senator who may or may not die in childbirth wouldn’t.

Or perhaps, simply, a love for which you would murder children, change good men into automaton and destroy democracy was not really a love, simply a twisted, gnarled thing.

Anakin Skywalker was more in love with the idea of Padme Amidala than with Padme herself, and as the world is slowly rebuilding itself, it’s a hard pill to swallow for poor Padme. She is very, very, very aware of what a close call it was.

Hundreds of Jedi are dead, a lot of clones put a blaster in their mouths once they were free of the chip, the entire political system will have to be remade from scratch to be sure nothing like Palpatine rise to power is possible again, and the consequences of the war pushed billions of people into exile, poverty and other horrors.

Padme herself is facing the possibility of jail-time: stripped of her rank, she’s in deep trouble on Naboo, between the people thinking she was in collusion with Palpatine, the people thinking she was too busy frolicking around with her Jedi to do her job and stop Palpatine, the people thinking she was in collusion with Anakin herself…. Her friends are throwing their weight around trying to help, and her parents found her a very good lawyer, but she will be happy if she escape that only with community service. She probably will have to thank the Jedi in general for that, who refused the numerous solicitations from the throne of Naboo to pursue Padme from marrying Anakin when he was a minor, and Obi-Wan in particular, who bore witness of Anakin’s attack of Padme and stood firm in his defence of the young woman.

It’s making Padme deeply uncomfortable. She thinks of Obi-Wan as a friend, a friend she lied to for years, again and again, and who saved her life on Mustafar when he killed Anakin, while Master Yoda saved the Republic when he killed Palpatine.

He even found her a place to stay, when she didn’t want to stay with any of her political friends, not ready to burn their careers by her simple contact as she had burned her own, and didn’t want to go back to Naboo.

It’s a very small apartment, right above a dinner, in a part of Coruscant she never would have visited when she was a Senator. The diner’s owner is male Besalik, who cooks in the dinner and live in the other small apartment above the dinner. He’s very friendly, always ready to babysit the twin when she has an errand to run.

He’s also the lover of Obi-Wan, who she sometimes meet in the stairs late in the night or very early in the morning. He always look drained when he arrives: Yoda succumbed to his wounds after the fight with Sidious and there are not enough Jedi left, all of them, the survivors of the few days Order 66 was implemented, exhausted, working themselves to the bone, trying to heal a galaxy which in their time of need didn’t come to their help. Trying to rebuild for people who let them, with a few exceptions like Bail Organa, be gunned down.

She wanted to tear the Jedi Master’s eyes out, in the beginning. If he had told Anakin…how dare he, when Anakin was dead, worse than dead, dead and his name spat on all across the galaxy.

One day, as she is thanking Dex for another afternoon of kid-sitting, it’s the Besalik who address the issue.

“Anakin knew.”

“But-He would have told me!”

“Told you what? That his former Master had a lover? Someone Obi-Wan would leave for months, years, if necessary, to do his duty.” The Besalik had sadly shaken his massive head.

“Anakin never thought Obi-Wan loved me. It didn’t count, in his eyes.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not a pretty young woman like you? Because Obi-Wan would let me die if he had a choice between me and an innocent life? Because Obi-Wan will only give me the morsels he can, and keep his duty in his heart? Who knew what Anakin thought? He saw Obi-Wan wouldn’t break every rule for me, would love me without keeping me, and for Anakin, it wasn’t love. Not burning enough. Not big enough. Obi-Wan loves me as Jedi should, without possessing, and for Anakin, that’s not love. ”

He pats her shoulder, his hand dwarfing it.

“You have two tadpoles, now. You can’t stay thinking of what was, what could have been.”

“You sound like Master Yoda.”

She bit her lips. For years, she had nodded and believed Anakin when the younger man presented Yoda as an obstacle to overcome. Now that the little Jedi had died saving what could be, she felt guilty, and angry, and quite possibly very lost.

“It’s not good for you, to stay in your apartment reviewing your case and thinking of the past,” he continued, “and I won’t advise you to meditate, like Obi-Wan probably would if you stopped evading each other like two tookas who share the same territory but are not ready to fight it out.”

“What will you advice, then?”

“Come to the dinner. I can’t offer a big salary, just an honest one. It won’t change the world, but people will be feed and it will give you a stepping stone to rebuild. Probably won’t buy a Naboo pretty palace with it, but you will feed your kids with your own money, not something from Senator Amidala than the Naboo Queen can freeze or seize, with the trial, or something that your family give you. And the people…It’s good, to see people happy after a good meal.”

He shrugs, and it’s like an earthquake on his abundant flesh.

She takes the job.

Years later, after Obi-Wan has been killed on mission, Dex retires to his home world and leave the dinner to Padme. She looks around, suddenly realizing how many years have passed.

And they were peaceful and not at all an encompassing fire of burning passion, and her children are happy and, more or less, well-adjusted. Not the powerful people Anakin would have wanted them to be, capable of changing the galaxy, just a professor in the lower levels, working in one of the programmes against illiteracy created by Chancellor Organa, for Luke, and a cargo pilot for Leia.

It’s not special.

Anakin would hate that.

Padme shrugs and go back to the ledgers of the dinner.

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 64

Warning, PLEASE CHECK TAGS IF YOU SEE SOMETHING YOU DON’T WANT TO READ THEN DON’T READ. | Tag lists are closed | INBOX OPEN

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Will tag as I go along, Will update tags, Slow Burn, Influenced by Star Trek and other Sci-Fi themes, References to We Happy Few, Tons of References and quotes to George Orwells 1984 see if you can find them all, The First Order is the new Big Brother,  but who is really surprised, Blatant Nazi Symbolism, Interrogation Themes, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Really just drawn out Slow Burn, Don’t repost without permission, Torture themes, Suggestive Themes, Execution themes, Disturbing Themes, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Controlling Kylo Ren, Physical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Possessive Kylo Ren, A character shamelessly based on Zelda

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 64: Empty

You felt the weight of his presence in your mind leave you, slowly dissipating like smoke in a room. “I shall leave for now, but if the pills don’t work, and she is too weak to guard herself it will leave me no choice but to protect her.” His hand came to your crown, almost as if he was trying to physically caress your mind with his own hand.

Your head felt rather empty without him there. The rational part of your brain, the one that always had its own personality, the fire that kept you going, was now reduced down to not much more than a lamp flame. Your wildfire was almost completely snuffed. Your spark was almost gone.

“How do you feel, m’lady,” asked Dr. Dabrini. Kylo remained silent. He removed his hand from you.

You lifted your head, trying to avoid meeting Kylo’s direct piercing gaze, your sight still blurry from your tears. You tried to focus on the doctor, trying to meet his analyzing but gentle gaze. “I don’t know. Better I guess, but I don’t feel the same as before,” your lips trembled as you spoke, afraid to know the truth of what was happening to your mind. You felt the hollowness of your own mind and the heaviness of your heart.  

The doctor came to kneel next to you; you knew that he would be able to see into your mind as Kylo could. He could ask questions, but that was only so good. He couldn’t feel what you were feeling. “What do you feel, m’lady? Can you describe it?” His voice quieter than before, like he wasn’t wanting to scare you off.

“I feel… empty, like what was there before isn’t now. It isn’t completely gone, but it is mostly gone. My heart is heavy and my head is light, but not in a good way? I don’t know how else to describe it.” Because in truth, you couldn’t—not really. How would you explain that a part of yourself was now gone?

You felt the bed shift as Kylo stood up, his back to the both of you.

The doctor glanced at him before he spoke to you again, “I cannot guarantee that the missing pieces of you will ever return m’lady. I do know that you should spend some time reflecting on what is still there, the memories, emotions, thoughts, and figure out how to move on with them. I know that it might not be ideal and that it may scare you, but there is nothing that I can do to bring them back. What I can do is give you dreamless sleep tonight.” You could hear the sincerity in the doctor’s voice. You could tell that he wasn’t happy, that he couldn’t do more for you. His face was full of grief and sympathy.

You nodded and looked at Kylo, whose back was still turned to you, with clenched fists. You wondered what he was thinking. How he felt about taking so much from you? How did he feel knowing he hurt you again? He broke his promise, but with good intentions. He was trying to protect you after all, wasn’t he?

The doctor glanced between you two before standing, “You know all that I can offer you. Tonight I will have a sleeping pill delivered, and tomorrow we can discuss its effectiveness. But for now, this is all that I can offer, and I shall leave you two alone to discuss our findings.” Dr. Dabrini then stepped out of the room.

Kylo had yet to move a muscle, his hard rigid back creating a wall between you. You didn’t know if it was protecting you or if it was keeping you out.

Your voice was small and broken, “Kylo?”

He turned to you, “He’s right. I must speed up my plans, our plans.” He then glanced down the hall, to where you did not know. “I will do what I must to protect you. They will be eliminated and soon. I do not want to take over you, but I will if it means keeping you by my side. Do you understand?” His voice became hard, his cauldron eyes ablaze with cascading emotions. Currents of dark painful water that you knew you could not swim against.

You did not want to lose yourself, but neither did he. Leia did not want to hurt you, she just wanted him home, Ben home not Kylo. But Rey, Rey would harm you to get Ben to come home, to leave you so he could be with her. Ben not Kylo. Ben the weaker half. “Yes.” You looked up to his face, and attempted to get up to meet him,

He moved to meet you on the bed. He drew you into his arms. “I will be fully yours then. Won’t I?” You searched his face for an answer.

“Yes, if I complete my task, you will be mine alone. Ben Solo will no longer exist. But you will be stuck with a broken monster.” His hand came up to move your hair behind your ear. You were a mess after this whole ordeal but there were more important things to worry about.

“So if you do this there will be no more you or him?” You didn’t know if that scared you or thrilled you. You thought all the gentle moments you two shared may not have been him, but you couldn’t be sure.

He brought your wrist up to his lips, and kissed his name gently, for the first time in weeks. “Yes, if that is what you want.”

Your heart pounded at the gentleness of it all. You were two equally broken people clinging to each other, to mend yourselves whole. Two souls that were chosen from the galaxy to intertwine. Where one couldn’t survive without the other?

“I don’t want to be hurt by this tug-of-war anymore. I want you Kylo, just you. Ben Solo betrayed me, by not protecting me, by leaving me defenseless to attacks, but you have tried to protect me. You only harm me when you fight him, so the fight needs to end.” It was partially true, he was a monster, but he was fighting against himself and his slashes were hitting you in the process. You needed to figure out who the monster was, so you could fix him. Train him to be your hound. Once you were Empress. A monster only you could understand, a monster that you were created to love.

“Then I will have to leave you, to kill him. To kill them. You are MINE,” the monster growled. “I will not let them have you, I will not let him win.” His lips crashed harshly against yours, biting your lip as they did. Teeth scraping and rough, this was him, this was Kylo. “And when I win, you shall be Empress,” he snarled into the kiss. A rough lover, one with intense passion, that ignited heat within you.

His sharp teeth nipped, and he sucked down your neck, marking you as his and his alone. His nose guided his lips back up to your ear, “As much as I would like to play with you Kitten, we have a meeting to get to, one that will help us accomplish our goal,” he gave you one last harsh nips to your lips as you broke apart. His arms sliding under you as he stood, carrying you to your dressing room where Adlez and Olivia-Rose were waiting to fix you.

“You have ten minutes to make her presentable,” he then set you down in front of your vanity. A harsh bruising possessive kiss to your lips before he left you into their care.

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror. You looked like and felt like hell. Your appearance made it seem as if you just got out of an active war zone, out of a fight for your life. Adlez and Olivia-Rose buzzed around you with such a speed you hadn’t witnessed before. Adlez carefully but quickly put your hair back into place and started assisting Olivia-Rose in covering the dark circles under your eyes, and the fresh love bites along your neck. You were then pulled to the armoire where your dress was practically ripped off you and then promptly replaced. Almost as soon as you were placed for inspection in front of the full-length mirror, there was a loud knock on the door. Time was up.

If you hadn’t started to move you were sure that Adlez would have ripped the door out from its pocket in the wall and screamed at Kylo. But you made it to the door before she did. Your body moving on a sort of autopilot. Once the door opened an arm pulled you out into the hall and started walking you out of your chambers. He was moving with a purpose and taking you with him.

You walked down the halls until you reached the familiar conference room from the day before. Kylo sat you down in your seat as he stalked to the head of the table. You could see that it wasn’t just a few members of the High Command present like Hux had said before, it was everyone. Well, some were holocommuting in, but still all members were present in some form.

Everyone seemed to be on edge. Kylo’s mood resonating to each individual person. Hux was the first to speak, “You called for this meeting Supreme Leader? Have things changed?” You could hear the uneasiness in his usually confident voice. His eyes reflected that same fear as he gazed upon the black monster in front of him.

“Yes, the plans have changed. Things have changed. The need to kill the scavenger and General Organa has become more important, more immediate. It needs my full attention. I shall leave sometime tomorrow to complete the task.” His voice through his mask is more menacing than ever.

“But we do not know where they are,” said Pryde. Apparently that was the wrong thing to say as Kylo shadowed towards him. His dark threatening black form seemed impossibly large.

He brought his face to be level with Pryde’s holo one. “Do you doubt my abilities, General Pryde?” You could hear the taunt, like a hyena’s laugh, only more deadly.

You watched the general swallow, to what you could only assume to be a dry mouth. His lips trembled in fear as his hologram eyes met the chrome of Kylo’s mask. “No, Supreme Leader, I do not.”

Kylo’s mask was less than an inch from the projection before he said, “Good.” He then stood back up to his full ominous form as he tracked back to the head of the table, “we wouldn’t want tradition to doubt authority and the ability of the Force.” You could hear the direct jab at Pryde’s pride. “After all, I am my grandfather’s heir apparent. Am I not,” his head whipped around to meet Pryde’s gaze.

“Yes, Supreme Leader, you are. You shall exceed Lord Vader’s legacy,” you could practically smell the fear through the hologram. You could certainly see the sweat forming on his brow, anyway.

Kylo lifted his head in a mock approval before he haunted around your side of the table before stopping next to you, “Once I return, Lady Ren will assume the position of Empress. And you will all be prepared for this. All preparations will need to be prepared. As neither of us will wait.” His hand rested on your shoulder.

“Preparations will begin immediately,” responded Hux.

“Would you like for the ceremony to take place back on Earth? Or shall it be somewhere else,” asked General Parnadee.

“Where would you like the ceremony to be held,” asked Kylo. He was speaking to you and you alone. The rest of the room waiting on your answer.

“How about somewhere new, somewhere important to you maybe? There is no use going back to my planet, is there?”

“As you wish,” responded Kylo.

“There is your grandfather’s castle on Mustafar m’lord,” said Hux.

“Yes, send preparations there. We are finished here.” With that, he guided you back up, escorting you back down the halls to your chambers. To be alone with him once again. To see the monster behind the mask, to learn about him. To love him, to mend him.

[prettybuckybaby]

felt your heartbeat and thought i am free; chapter three

peter gets sick and the avengers help babysit

part four of single parent peter parker

masterlist

read on ao3 here

Peter collapses on their couch as soon as he is in Steve and Bucky’s living room the following morning.

“Okay,” Peter can hear Tony rolling his eyes as he speaks to Steve. The other super soldier isn’t in the room yet. “Harley and I figured out it’s mainly babysitting Pete as this point. Leia is an angel, aren’t you, sweetness?” Leia giggles and Peter smiles into the couch. He scowls when Tony continues talking. “Daddy, however, is a brat,” Leia tugs on the fabric of Steve’s pants, smiling when he bends down and picks her up.

“Morning, honey,” He smiles as he settles her on his hip.

“So,” Tony continues. “He spent basically all day yesterday sleeping, so if you could keep him awake as long as possible, that would be wonderful,” He sighs when he hears Peter whimper, muffled by the couch. “No, Pete. You’ve gotta stay awake,”

“Mean,”

“I see what Sam means,” Bucky sighs as he sits down on the couch by Peter’s head. Peter jumps slightly, not having realised he’s entered the room. “He is a right baby when he’s sick,”

“Yeah,” Tony laughs lightly. “We put two IVs in yesterday. The first one came out when he threw himself off the couch, and he pulled the second one out after 5 minutes. I don’t know whether he was aware,” Tony pauses slightly. “When he did it, but he’s definitely more awake today and I don’t want to force him to have another one when he might be capable of eating himself. However, with him being more awake he’s also more aware of the pain he’s in,”

“And is he likely to eat himself?” Steve asks.

“Not sure.” He frowns when Tony shrugs. “I’ve told FRIDAY to let you up to our floor if you need to, in case you need to get anything for Leia or anything. Harley made some soup and there’s some in the fridge if he doesn’t eat anything solid,”

“Thanks, Tony,”

“And if you need anything else, just ask FRIDAY. Or call me, if you fancy getting me out of my meetings I will not complain,”

“Yeah,” Bucky snorts. “And make Pepper mad at us? I don’t think so, Stark,”

“Scary,”

“Yeah, buddy,” Bucky coos, stroking Peter’s head. When Peter’s eyes start to droop, he moves his hand and pokes his cheek instead. “Sorry, pal, you gotta stay awake for a bit,”

“You’ll be good, Pete, yeah?” When Peter doesn’t respond, Tony rolls his eyes fondly. “Leia, Harley will come and see you when he gets home from school, okay? You’ll be okay with Steve and Bucky until then?” He smiles at Leia, who has climbed so she’s sitting on Steve’s shoulder. She rests her hands on his cheeks and smiles back at Tony.

“Yeah, Uncle Tony,” Tony grins at her, fiddling with his shirt cuffs. He looks up at Steve.

“If you need anything-”

“We’ll be fine, Tony.” Steve smiles, lifting Leia off his shoulders and settling her back against his hip. He walks with Tony towards the lift. “We’ll contact you if we need anything. Go to your meetings,”

“Have fun!” Bucky calls through.

“I’ll try my hardest,” He snorts. Steve rolls his eyes when he hears Bucky snickering. “Don’t be a pain, Peter! See you later, darling,” Leia giggles when Tony kisses her cheek, waving at him until the lift is long gone. Steve rocks her gently as he walks back into the living room.

“You fancy doing some painting, Leia?” She nods and claps her hands together. Bucky groans.

“What? So you’re going to go and hide away in your studio and I’m stuck here watching this little shi-” He groans when Peter untangles an arm from under the blanket and blindly punches. “Ow, Jesus, pal. Even sick you have one hell of a punch,”

“Shit!” Leia laughs happily. Peter punches again.

“I didn’t say it!” Peter frowns as he lifts his head up, looking up at where Bucky is rubbing his thigh. He groans as he puts his face back into the couch.

“I’m going to kill Harley,” Steve laughs, placing Leia down. She runs straight over to Bucky, who immediately lifts her onto his knees.

“If you don’t want to be left alone with Peter, we’ll bring the painting stuff our here.” Steve reasons. “It’s you that complains that I might get paint everywhere, which I never have, by the way,” Leia tugs lightly on Bucky’s hair.

“Juice, Buck?”

“Sure thing, doll,” He smiles, standing up. “I’ll take her up to get some juice and stuff. If there is even one drop of paint on this floor, you’re sleeping on the couch,” He smiles when Steve rolls his eyes and heads into his studio. “Pete, I want you sitting up by the time we’re back down. If you’re not, I’m going to tell Pepper you were being a pain,”

Peter rolls his eyes at Bucky, letting them fall shut when the lift closes and starts to whirl as it moves. He doesn’t know if he falls asleep, but the next thing he knows, Steve is shaking his shoulder.

“How you doing, Queens?” Peter blinks up at him, before he buries his face back into the couch and groans loudly. Steve laughs. “I know, bud. You’ll feel better if you sit up for a bit,” When Peter does nothing more than groan again, Steve rolls his eyes and drags Peter into a sitting position, hands under Peter’s armpits, propping him up with the pillows. “You wanna watch Star Wars?” He asks as he tucks Peter’s blanket around him.

“When I die, will you let Tony know that he and May have joint custody over Leia? It’s written in my will,”

“You’re seventeen, Pete, why do you have a will?” Steve asks, before closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Actually, I don’t want to know. You’re not dying, Peter, you’re just a little bit sick. You got sick before the bite and you never died then,” Peter moans and closes his eyes. “No, come on, kid. You can nap when Leia does,” He bargains as he taps Peter’s cheek until he opens his eyes again. He nods when he does and goes back to setting up his art supplies.

Bucky and Leia come back a few minutes later, Leia sitting on his shoulders and drinking a capri sun.

“Good, you’re up,” Bucky says. He’s carrying a box of Leia’s drinks and snacks in his arm, with a small pot on the top.

“Hi, Daddy!” Leia says around the straw of her drink, waving at Peter as Bucky walks towards the kitchen. He crouches down in front of the couch before he gets there, and she slides off his shoulders.

“Hey, princess,” Peter smiles softly.

“Okay, pumpkin. You ready?” She beams up at Steve. He grins back and holds up one of his t-shirts. “You’re wearing a very pretty dress, and I’m sure Daddy would be upset with me if I let you get paint on it, so this is going over your dress,” Bucky laughs lightly at the confused look on Leia’s face.

“It means you can get paint on it. You can get all messy without worrying about your dress,” Leia looks confused for a few moments longer before her face clears and she holds her hands up above her head for Steve to slip the shirt on. It fits over the dress completely, the short sleeves over her elbows and the bottom of the shirt touching her shins.

“I’m serious, Rogers,” Bucky comments as he sits back on the couch. He drops the pot that he brought in with Leia’s stuff on Peter’s bent knees. “One spot on the floor-”

“Yes, yes, the couch, I know, Buck,”

“Good. That’s ice cream, by the way.” He tells Peter and nods to the pot. “Leia and Harley got it for you yesterday. Get some sugar in your system,”

Peter eats the ice cream slowly as he watches Leia painting, a nature documentary series that he and Bucky had started watching playing in the background. His eyes drift shut every so often, and every time Bucky stretches his foot out to kick his side, making sure he’s awake. They get through three episodes of the documentaries before a sudden wave of pain hits him, stronger than the other ones he’s been feeling, and causes him to whimper softly. The two super soldiers’ heads snap up to him.

“You want some painkillers, kid?” Bucky asks. Peter opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a strangled moan. “Okay, just give me a few minutes,”

Bucky comes back ten minutes later, packet of painkillers in one hand and a bowl of Mrs Keener’s soup in the other. “You finish the soup, you can have the drugs,” He says, handing Peter the bowl and sitting on the table in front of him.

“You can’t blackmail the kid into eating, Bucky,” Steve sighs. Bucky rolls his eyes at the disappointed look on his face.

“Sure I can. It used to work with you in Brooklyn,” Steve is quiet for a few moments before he nods his head and turns back to his paintings.

“Fair enough. You should eat, Peter. He won’t leave you alone until you do,” Peter rolls his eyes before lifting the spoon up to his mouth. Bucky nods when he swallows. He hands the bowl to Bucky when it’s halfway empty and runs out the room.

It’s only Steve left in the room when he drags himself back into the living room thirty minutes later. As soon as he’s through the door he drops to the floor in front of Steve.

“Put me out of my misery, Mr Steve,” He begs. “End me. Take away the pain, please,” He grabs the packet of painkillers off the table and swallows two dry.

“No, kid,” Steve sighs, taking the box away before he can take a third and fourth pill. “I’m not killing you. It’s a bug, you’ll be fine in a day or two,” Peter moans, crawling around the room until he settles in the corner above the door. Steve sighs again.

“You’re sighing a lot,” Bucky says as he comes back into the room. “Where’s Pete? I heard you talking to him,” Steve just looks back up to the ceiling. “Ah. Whatcha doing up there, Peter?”

“Sleep,” Peter mumbles, curling up on himself and closing his eyes.

“Okay,” He nods easily. “Leia, you ready for your nap?” She shakes her head from where she’s falling asleep in Bucky’s arms. Steve chuckles.

“Can we watch Fr’zen?” She murmurs into Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky nods again and carries her over to the couch. Steve follows, sets the film up, and sits down next to Bucky. Leia shifts so she can see the film, wiggling until her head is in Bucky’s lap and her legs across Steve’s and Bucky tangles his fingers through her hair.

---------------

“How long has she been napping?” Is the first thing that Harley says when he comes into the room. Steve looks up from the screen.

“Since about five minutes into Frozen,” He answers.

“And what? This is the sequel?”

“Buck was enjoying it,” Steve sighs. He rolls his eyes when Harley raises an eyebrow. Harley sits down on one of the seats.

“Where’s Peter?” He asks. Bucky doesn’t look away from the screen as he points to the corner where Peter is still sleeping. “Oh,” He laughs. “How’s he been?”

“Did you know he has a will written?” Steve asks instead of answering. Harley raises an eyebrow. “He mentioned it. He said he was dying,”

“Ah,” They sit in a comfortable silence, film still playing in the background, until Leia starts to stir. She blinks a few times before her eyes clear, and she slides off Bucky and Steve and stumbles over to Harley. He laughs when she crawls into his lap. “You’ve got paint in your hair, darlin’,”

“Was paintin’ ducks, Harls,” She mumbles sleepily.

“I can see that,” He teases, looking over at the collection of paintings that are still drying by the windows. “Let’s get you in the bath before we have dinner, sweets,” He stands up and starts walking towards the lift when Steve calls to him.

“The others are coming down here for food in a bit. You’re welcome to join us. Pep and Tony, too, if they’re finished with their meetings,”

“Thanks, Cap,” Harley smiles and Leia waves as they step into the lift and go up to their floor.

---------------

Harley and Leia come back down to Steve and Bucky’s floor a little over an hour and a half later. Leia’s hair is fluffy from where Harley has dried it, and she’s dressed in her Iron Man pyjamas. He’d spent a good fifteen minutes looking for her Spider-man ones, hoping to cheer her up a bit after she got upset about not spending time with her father, but FRIDAY informed him that they were currently being washed. She reluctantly settles for the Iron Man ones.

Everyone else, minus Tony and Pepper, is on the floor now, gathered around the table that was covered in cartons from different take outs. Peter is still curled up on the ceiling. When they see Leia follow Harley into the room, they all light up. She makes her way over to Natasha.

“Hey, honey,” The spy crouches down and hugs Leia tightly. “What have you been doing today?”

“Painted ducks, Tash,”

“No way!” She gasps. “Can you show me them?” Leia grins and drags Natasha over to her paintings. Nat looks at each of them carefully, before crouching down again. “Don’t tell him I said this,” She whispers to her, just loud enough for the others to hear her. “But you’re better at painting than Steve is,” She hugs Leia again as the toddler giggles, picking her up and spinning her around gently. Tony and Pepper come out of the lift then, offering greetings to everyone.

“Hi, princess,” Tony smiles as he plants a kiss on Leia’s head. “Very nice Pyjamas. Where’s wonder boy?” He looks confused when Leia points to the ceiling, but he snorts when he looks up and sees the boy rolled into a ball. He turns to Steve. “Has he been sleeping all day?”

“No,” Steve shakes his head. “He managed to stay awake until about two. Then Bucky blackmailed him into eating soup and he threw up. He climbed up there and hasn’t moved since,” Tony snorts again and looks down at his watch before making a decision.

“That’s long enough. He needs to eat,” He sighs. He leaves the room into the kitchen and comes back moments later with a broom in his hand. He pokes Peter’s back with the handle. It takes a couple of pokes before Peter reacts, bringing a hand up to push the brush away from him. “Come on, kid,”

“Go ‘way,” Peter mumbles before he just pulls the brush from Tony’s hand and webs it to the ceiling. Leia giggles.

“You got a spray bottle?” Tony turns to Bucky, who nods and asks if he wants it filling. “Water, please,” Bucky is back with the bottle within moments, and hands it over to Tony.

“What’s he doing?” Leia asks Natasha from where they’re sat together on the floor with Clint.

“Tony’s just getting Daddy down so he can get something to eat, babe,” He explains patiently. Leia frowns.

“Going to hurt him?”

“No, sweetie. Steve’ll catch him,” Leia nods her head and Tony smiles at her reassuringly before he turns back to Peter. It only takes two sprays of water before Peter is scrambling to keep a grip on the ceiling. One more spray and he falls straight into Steve’s arms, groaning. As soon as Steve places Peter, now groaning dramatically, on the couch, Leia jumps up and runs towards him.

Tony scoops her up before she gets too close, shushing her softly when she whines.

“Don’t want you getting sick as well, buttercup,” He shushes her again when she whimpers, her eyes filling with tears. “I know, princess, but if you get sick, it means that you’ll have to wait even longer to cuddle Daddy because we don’t want him getting sick again. And that would make Daddy terribly upset because he misses cuddles just as much as you do,” Leia looks up at him, her lip wobbling. “And we don’t want you feeling all icky. And Harley’s here! And we’re keeping him forever so you can hang out and annoy him as much as you want!” She giggles, but it’s a wet sound.

“Come on, Princess,” Harley smiles, coming over and taking Leia from Tony’s arms. A tear falls from her eye. “Okay, I know I’m not as pretty as Daddy is, but you don’t need to cry about it,” Harley misses the eyebrow that Tony raises. Leia calms down slightly, but when Peter moans quietly she bursts into tears. Harley bounces her gently, cooing. “Come on. Let’s go and find Bearbear, you can give him all the hugs you wanna give Daddy,” Tony ruffles her hair when Harley walks past him and sends her a sad smile. When the lift doors have closed behind them, he turns to Peter.

“Up,” He says, kicking Peter’s foot. He groans and tries to kick him away. “You’re eating something. You’re getting better, I am not having a crying child in my tower,” He kicks him a few more times until Peter falls to the floor. The teen rolls over and glares at him.

“Kids cry, Mr Stark. It was going to happen at some point,” He coughs harshly before he flops back onto the floor. Sam and Bucky come up from behind him and pull him to his feet, sit him down and hand him a plate of food.

“Eat.” Tony tells him, staring at him until he lifts a spring roll to his mouth and eats it whole.

“He looks better than he did this morning,” Pepper comments quietly, placing an arm around Tony’s waist. “He looks more aware. Less pale,” Tony hums softly. He watches Peter from the side of the room, giving him space to eat what he wants and not put too much pressure on him. He walks over and crouches in front of him when Peter stops eating, a little more than half of the plate gone.

“How are you feeling, kid?” He takes the plate from him and places it on the table. “You think you’re gonna keep that down?”

“Yeah,” He clears his throat, wincing slightly at the roughness of his voice. “Yeah, I think,”

“Good. We’re gonna watch a movie,” Tony comments as he stands up. “Do you feel up for joining us?” Peter closes his eyes for a few seconds, thinking.

“Yeah. Sure. Can I go and shower first?”

“Course you can.” Tony smiles when Peter stands up and wraps the blanket around his shoulders. “Take your time, we’ll wait for you,”

Peter smiles before he makes his way out the room. He takes his time showering, scrubbing his skin of two days’ worth of sweat. He doesn’t bother drying his hair properly after he’s washed it and he’s out the shower, just leaves it to dry and curl naturally. He feels better, cleaner but still tired, when he stumbles back onto Steve and Bucky’s floor. Tony looks up as soon as he enters, patting the spare space on the couch between him and Pepper. Leia is sat on Harley, wrapped around him like a koala, on the floor leaning against the couch to the side of Pepper. Leia grins up at him as he sits down, holding up one of her teddies.

“You can cuddle Mr Bubbles,” She tells him, holding the teddy up until Peter takes it from her hands.

“Thank you, baby,” He smiles tiredly, blowing her a kiss. She giggles as she pretends to catch it. She turns back to Harley, not seeing Peter wipe the tears out of his eyes. “I love you, Princess,”

“Love you, Daddy,” She mumbles back, trying her hardest to keep her eyes open. Peter isn’t much better, settling down with his head on Tony’s shoulder, Mr Bubbles grasped tightly in his hand. His grip doesn’t loosen, even when he falls asleep.

[chikkou]

I'd ask this on your Lisa sideblog but you don't have anon on and I'm shy lol, but do you have any headcanons relating to Lisa the First? Like Lisa's views on religion, her relationship with her mother, if any of the various worlds we see mean anything?

hoh man i didnt even know anon wasnt on LMAO... ill turn it on after i post this!

also fuck YEAH i do holy shit i fucking LOVE lisa the first!! i know its sort of the black sheep of the lisa series, since it is a completely different type of game and was clearly austins first game, but i fucking ADORE it dude. the music - which he made ENTIRELY IN THE FREE TRIAL OF FL STUDIO BY THE WAY - is FANTASTIC, the art direction is actually pretty fucking incredible for an rpgmaker game that uses a good deal of basic assets, and the gameplay.... ok yeah that part is a bit lacking but its a yume nikki-style game be nice it was his first time LMAO

ANYWAY back to ur question. first and foremost, i think this is not even a headcanon so much as straight up canon, but lisa DESPISES christianity. marty is christian, probably catholic given the golden crosses everywhere, and he is a fucking scumbag hypocrite. lisa likely associates all of christianity with this line of thinking, as there is one room in the bile area where the melted martys (although i suppose we can just call them joy mutants now LMAO) simply stand in a circle surrounding one big cross. the role of the melted martys is up for interpretation of course, as is everything, but after playing the painful and seeing them described as “mindless sheep,” i think this is how lisa viewed them. so they likely represent other people that, to lisa, are probably just as sick and disgusting as marty

lisas relationship with her mother... i go back and forth on this one a lot. i can never decide if i prefer the headcanon that lisas mom died in childbirth, and so lisa never met her, or if i prefer that lisas mom was around for a very short time and then either left or died. the fact that she says “i didnt want to leave” at the end of the first leads me to believe that she most likely died. in either case, the memory of her mother was clearly important to lisa, as she wears her pendant through the entire game and its explicitly noted as being a gift from her. in either case, i think that the death/absence of the mother is heavily implied to be the primary cause behind martys descent into alcoholism and lisas abuse, since the white room strongly implies that marty did at one time sincerely love and care for her as a father properly should 

as for the meaning of each of the rooms, i think most of them are fairly self explanatory, but some of them are a bit more vague, so ill break it down in terms of how i see it (and ill put them under the cut because its long as hell):

martys house - this is the most literal one. pretty self-explanatory. the dark, yet vibrant colors and the ear-bleedingly loud tv are pure sensory overload, something lisa probably deals with on a regular basis. when lisa goes outside and it turns into a sky of marty faces, i think this is the transition into the psychological part of the game

the lobby - this is honestly just pure yume nikki ripoff LMAO... but if i had to ascribe a symbolic meaning to it, i think its probably a quiet and safe area for lisa to retreat to in her mind when she needs it, but even that eventually gets sullied as tricky rick makes his way there, too (and tells her hes “just waiting” when she talks to him). the majority of gameplay is lisa searching for items with which to kill tricky rick, who always abuses and disparages her whenever she talks to him, telling her she’ll never forget. as for the reason why... well, take one look at him and its pretty clear whats going on there. (the name is also a reference to richard nixon, whose nickname was... well, you can figure it out!)

the town - the bar area is 100% my favorite from this world; lisa clearly hates alcohol and anyone who drinks it, associating them all with marty, and that music... all i can say is YUCK. the entire section also consists of lisa having to give up something in exchange for what she needs to move on, and usually getting the raw end of the deal out of it (she gives one marty a banana, he gives her a banana peel in return). she does all that while avoiding a marty following her outside who repeatedly tells her “you cant escape,” and upon reaching tricky rick (who is atop a narrow, columnar, PINK mountain), it becomes pretty clear whats happening to her. 

the sea room - fucking marty spiders man. im assuming they represent the sickly feeling of crawling skin she gets when she looks at him or is anywhere near him, but holy GOD they are annoying to deal with. she kills tricky rick with pills here - we dont know what kind of pills these are, but i interpret them as sleeping pills, and given the rumbling music and the rapid cycling marty background, i wonder if he forced her to take these. marty is everywhere here, but the only one she can speak to is seen chilling on a raft of some kind. marty likely spent much of his time recreationally, i.e. drinking, so it makes sense why this would be here

the rope room - theres no symbolism here this is just pure comedy (LMAO). if i HAD to assign some meaning to this area, it would be that lisa likely is so despondent at this point that putting in effort to do anything feels utterly pointless, much like climbing this long-ass rope was

the white room - as i mentioned earlier, i personally believe that this area depicts the previous relationship between marty and lisa (and also has one of my favorite songs in the game). he is shown doing traditional fatherly things - he is no longer wearing sunglasses and is wearing a suit, meaning he was likely employed, and is actually smiling. he also spends time with her in a completely platonic, familial way. when she interacts with him, there is a little heart over his head. after lisa walks through the golden statues (which will reappear later), the entire world becomes filled with bile, and martys appearance returns to that of the other martys, but with an extremely warped, grotesque face. the item she needs in this area to kill tricky rick is found between two golden crosses.

notice that all of the items she kills tricky rick with - a razor, pills, and now a plastic bag - are things that a child could plausibly get their hands on; none of them are explicitly weapons. i think this shows both her age and how often she must have considered using those things against him. 

the bile room - probably my favorite area in the game, and also features what i consider the quintessential lisa song. this area really drives home lisas disgust with marty and with christianity as a whole - it almost certainly has the highest concentration of crosses, and it is also quite literally covered in wall-to-wall bile, dirty water, and disgusting houses. a lot of the most graphic sights, like the melting martys and the pond martys (no idea what to call them LMAO) are here, so i think this is pretty much the lowest circle of hell for lisa. marty gives lisa a freshly cut finger in exchange for a napkin here; im not necessarily sure what that represents, but i think the napkin was used by marty to masturbate (as he says “i needed that” after he takes it), so perhaps the finger is martys?

lisa kills tricky rick here in a cave that is not-so-subtly shaped like a penis, and gets a vhs tape in which he pretty explicitly states what is going on in the game; he even pretends like he doesnt know who lisa is at first, which somehow makes it even more disgusting. the fact that vhs tapes play a role here sort of makes me wonder if marty really WAS filming some of what he was doing, and given that lisa the joyful confirms that brad was forced to somehow participate in lisas abuse, that is.... horrific to think about, honestly

the marty tape - this tape just has the player (as marty) walk up to lisa and suited marty, who are having a tea party with a plastic tea set. they both get hearts over their heads if you talk to them. i think this drives home that he and lisa did once have a normal relationship, and perhaps theres some part of marty who misses that? theres a LOT of ways you can interpret this; having the player become marty really calls a lot into question.

the mansion - the room leading here has a marty staring directly at the player who informs lisa that she needs a sword to progress. unsubtly, the sword must be placed into the crotch of a womans statue. the mansion inside is beautiful and ornate, and easily the most gorgeous area in the game - and it all leads to what appears to be a proto-joy mutant marty, sort of looking like jabba the hutt. i dont doubt that this is intentional, given that jabba the hutt is associated with slave leia, and its not at all a far leap to call lisa martys slave. the golden statues of women, as well as many golden crosses, are everywhere in this area. its actually quite a large space with a lot of thought put into it, so im really upset that i cant figure out more of what it represents LMAO

the final area - lisa seems to go back to her actual house, but upon leaving her room and entering whether the living room would be, the whole area changes. she encounters herself in a blood red room, but when she talks to the other lisa, she turns into marty. i think this represents a clear question - who is lisa without him? IS she anyone? or is she just a vessel for him to do with what he pleases? she encounters a naked marty telling her to give up shortly after, and flees from him, but is followed by voices repeatedly telling her that she must accept her fate. i think this clearly show the mental state of lisas last days. she was tormented, eternally. she truly felt there was no escape from marty. even the background becomes nothing but martys face, over and over again, as the end screen flashes.

at the end text, she finds a video tape, and in the tape sees someone who is ostensibly her mother from behind. she apologizes for not being there for her, but when that figure turns out, its martys face that she sees. the sky turns into marty. the music becomes corrupted and overrun with pretty fucked up laughter. she tries to run, but marty is already everywhere. theres nowhere for her to run. and then the game is over.

note that the video tape comes AFTER the games end screen, which stops not long after the appearance of the naked marty. so i personally believe that the “game over” represents her deciding to take her own life, rather than just give up and accept her fate. by running from him into the blackness, she got away from marty the only way she could have. it is sad and horrible, but that is honestly the best ending that she could have gotten in this game.

the first is definitely not as good as the painful in terms of gameplay, that much i can agree on, but i really think people miss out on a lot by not playing it. i think its really crucial to see lisas life from her own perspective before you can see it from brads - after all, brad may have known more than anyone else about what was going on, but he did not experience it like lisa did. for brad, lisa is a symbol of his own regrets and failures, but lisa was a PERSON (well, in-universe anyway LMAO). she suffered on her own, with pretty much no one to help her, and then she suffered so much that she couldnt take another second of it. 

[sw-daydreamer]

Ben’s life Force

TROS told us that Rey was reborn thanks to Ben's life Force which is not only making it impossible for him to be a Force Ghost, but also  grants her the right to feel connected to Leia and Luke and call herself Skywalker, because he gave it all to HER, out of LOVE.

He gave  her his life, and his soul, everything he had. SO yes they are ONE now.

This should feel so romantic to me  and to all of us. So why is it not? Why are  we mourning Ben and almost reluctantly celebrating Reylo?

First the entire movie up to the duel does not take the time to assert the connection as truly romantic in the first place, it’s only relying on minimal references to the 2 previous movies, and even avoiding to create new emotions or lines that carry the weight of their deep connection. It’s all good VS bad again... the inner turmoil felt by Ben, and voiced by Rey,  is there, but muffled on purpose, behind the mask and the sheer lack of scenes. They’re not allowed to grow, as characters, only the bond but in a technical way, like a bigger super power.

Second,  when Ben turns, Adam’s portrayal is truly amazing, his demeanour changes completely and channels his fathers cockiness and self assurance , which added to his yielding of the Force,  is truly compelling to watch.  No words are further said, maybe to let us take in that change on the physical level, but also to limit the use of canon text to a minimum. The absence of the words, the text, is almost unbearable and unforgivable when he finally bring her back to life. No romantic vows, or promesses but only gestures, a nod, a smile, a hand taken, a life given, and one name BEN. It is actually beautiful if you take time to look at it properly... and  savour it... but you can’t because the pacing is fast, too fast to let you take it in, and MAKE IT MATTER. Besides, gestures are left to the interpretation of the viewer, making these acts subtle on the grounds of “their inner connection needs no words”  which is also likely to  make it less visible and powerful to the eyes of the general audience.

Third, the dyad, as a way to evoke their connection. When you look at a love story you call it a romance, you say it’s romantic, you speak of soulmates. The technical term, dyad,  is presented as being one in the Force, by Kylo before his turn and like life itself by Palpatine, the ultimate villain of the Saga. This throws a shadow of uncertainty as to the nature of this connection, of why it has come to be and remains only explained by Snoke in TLJ, when he reveals himself as the creator... yet we are told he was Palpatine’s puppet. In other terms, Snoke was probably lying. I do see  Reylo as soulmates connected by the Force, but what do others see in this fog of over complicated and murky explanations? Even then, Reylos are left with this irritating doubt around the core theme of their story, the thematic words are missing.

Fourth, Rey did not fade, Ben did, but did not reappear later as  a ghost. 

According to Kylo they are one in the Force, an idea vaguely borrowed to the concept of the Prime Jedi but without its profound implication that they both matter, that balance matters. When Rey dies she can not go, she is held by the other part that makes her : Ben, he acts as a tether to the the physical world.  She can’t fade away, because part of her is still alive, her other half. When he comes to her, he gives away all his LIFE Force to breathe in life back in her body. This  is given to Rey, he is not just USING the Force, it’s like a life force transfusion. This was even explained by REY early in the movie (copying Rian’s technique of explaining a Force projection  as deadly early in TLJ) when she heals the creature’s injury, and explained what she had done. So Ben is not his own entity anymore whether in the physical or spiritual world. Even though the idea of having a soulmate is extremely romantic at heart, it is meant as a metaphor, and not to be taken literally. We’re left with the sensation of emptiness because there is nothing left of Ben to mourn, no place to seek him or think of him as a presence, unless we accept TROS’s view that he is now a part of Rey, and this also is where the hurt continues!

fifth, Rey does not mourn, the loss of Ben, probably because she still feels him within her, but she does not tell anyone he is a part of her, unless we take the “ I am Rey Skywalker” as THE acknowledgement. Yet again it is up to interpretation, and anything which carries emotional weight in the movie is treated this way, gestures, hints, subtleties that drive the ones  who care crazy with uncertainty, and flies over the head of the casual audience. 

Sixth, the impossibility to be a couple for more than 2 seconds takes away the necessity to reason the moral integrity of their relationship. Toxic or not toxic, that is NOT the question anymore, it’s simply not. And yet, his death, or transference into her, leaves the sour taste in our mouth that he was not redeemed enough or worthy to carry on living. Death is a punishment and when all of Ben Solo’s background story of abuse and victimisation, pushed towards the dark side, rather than chosen, is only made CLEAR in canon novels and comics, then the pill becomes hard to swallow. 

Finally, Adam Driver said about his character, “What does he have to be redeemed for?” Indeed, the character is described in canon material as abused  and as a victim, so our hearts swell when Ben is finding the strength to be his true self, break the protective shell of Kylo Ren, he was hiding within and runs to save his love. SO  why does he need to be punished? Why is the sacrifice of his life and soul made to appear as a fleeting moment?

I am mourning Ben Solo on a personal level that I did not think could be possible and it is truly painful. I want it to stop.

The idea of Rey and Ben being ONE within Rey is not the payoff I wanted, because all the lights are on Rey and Ben remains in the shadow, once again. I wanted balance, two equals in the Force.

 I think Reylos are a strong, fun and compassionate eclectic band of romantic star wars fans... we can do this... continue the story, fill in the gaps, bring back Ben Solo, because really, with these awesome new Force super powers, there has to be a resurrection one... Palpatine did it... and Rey is...

Give Ben Solo his voice back.... 

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

have some hopper x reader fluff! i’m working away on fic, so come chat! :)

“Can’t believe you were so stupid,” Hopper grins, teasing lilt to his voice. He holds open the front door and you step under his arm and into the cabin, scowling all the while. “Not my fault,” you mutter, words a little slurred by the good meds the ER doctor gave you. You lean one shoulder against the wall and kick off your sneakers, sending them flying. One lands on the couch and the other goes sailing down the hallway.

Hopper whistles. “That was at least a 50 yard kick, babe.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, frowning in his direction. “S’not my fault.” “Kinda is,” he retorts. “Don’t remember anybody else tellin’ ya to try out Max Mayfield’s skateboard.” You can’t actually disagree with him - attempting to ride the skateboard had been entirely your idea. But, “I want the kids to like me! I was trying to fit in.” Jim grins - the audacity! - and strides forward to grip your upper arms. He looks down at you and says seriously, “Face the music, sweetheart, y’ain’t cool to the kids anymore. Now you’re just a boring old adult.” “Who you calling ‘old’, Jim Hopper?” you jab your index finger into his chest, pouting. “The 28-year-old woman who busted her arm tryin’ to ride a skateboard to impress a pack of teens,” he retorts with a smirk. You drop your forehead to his chest. “I’m old,” you moan into the fabric, entirely too dramatic thanks to the pain pills. Jim’s arms come up around your back and hug you close. You lean into the embrace. “It ain’t so bad, gettin’ old,” he mutters into your hair. “Nobody minds when dinner’s at 4 or if you nod off into your mashed potatoes.” He laughs, loud and deep, and you pull away from his arms, smacking his arm with your good hand. “You bastard!” you yelp, a smile threatening to overtake your face. “I will not be eating dinner at 4 or falling asleep into my potatoes.” Ducking away from your abuse, Hopper laughs again and it’s a wonderful sound. “We’ll see, babe. They gave ya the good shit at the hospital.” Even as he talks, you can feel your head getting heavier and fuzzier. You hum a response. “I’m definitely feeling it.” “Why don’t I help you into pajamas and you can get some rest?” he suggests, brushing a hand over your good arm. You nod, going to rub your eye and almost smacking yourself in the head with your brand new arm cast. “Shit,” you mutter, glaring at the plaster. “That’s going to be a pain in the ass.” “Don’t go givin’ yourself a black eye too,” Hopper teases, blue eyes twinkling with mirth. “Glad you’re amused, Hop,” you roll your eyes and follow him into the bedroom. You stop in your tracks abruptly, realizing something. “Oh shit!” “What happened?” Hopper turns quickly, worry written across his face. “I gotta shower!” you exclaim, a little slurred. “I wanna wash all the gross hospital feeling offa me.” Even as you speak, your head feels like it’s getting heavier and it’s harder to keep your eyes open. You blink at him slowly. “I needa wash my hair, Hop.” He snorts. “Okay, babe. We’ll wrap your cast up and you can jump in the tub.” He’s already shuffling you off towards the kitchen to grab the saran wrap. You lean against the counter as he wraps the plastic cling film around the cast, checking to make sure that it’s a decently tight seal. Once he’s satisfied, Jim pats your cheek and nudges you in the direction of the bathroom. “Go on, sweetheart. I’ll get you a snack to eat before you go to bed.” You nod, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his stubbly cheek. “Thanks, Nurse Jim.” “Yeah, let’s not make that a thing,” Jim says drily, rolling his eyes. But he kisses your forehead anyway and swats your ass gently as you walk off. “What now?” he asks a moment later when you stop in the middle of the the hallway. You turn, “I don’t think I can wash my hair with one hand? Can you do it for me?” A pout forms on your face and Hopper’s incapable of saying no. He sighs and nods his head towards the bathroom, “Go on, I’m right behind ya.” And true to his word, he is. His hands find your hips and he’s pushing you along, fingers gently digging into your skin. You smile at his closeness, the feeling of his bulk at your back. He dips his head forward and kisses the skin at the nape of your neck, exposed by your high, sloppy ponytail. You undress quickly, while Hopper fills the tub with scalding hot water and an obscene amount of bubble bath - just the way you like it. He holds onto your good hand as you carefully climb into the tub. “Ohhhh,” you sigh happily, sinking into the water up to your shoulders. “Watch the cast, babe,” Hopper warns, smiling slightly at the look of pure bliss that’s spreading across your face. “Stupid cast,” you mutter, but keep the plastic wrapped plaster well above the water line. Hopper shakes his head. “Still can’t believe you tried the ride the skateboard.” He pauses, smile evident in his voice even though your eyes are closed. “And fell off before you even got two feet down the sidewalk.” Splashing a little water outside of the tub, you gesture wildly, “The sidewalk was uneven! I would’ve gone further if I didn’t hit that curb!” “Sure, sweetheart,” Hopper agrees, shit-eating grin on his face. He grabs the shampoo off of the shower ledge and squeezes some into his hands. “Lean back.” You oblige and close your eyes, sighing in bliss as Hopper’s fingers begin to scrub the shampoo into your hair. He chats quietly, telling you about the stupid things he’s seen people get arrested for. Slowly, but surely, the sound of his voice, coupled with the hot water and pain pills lulls you to sleep. Before you know it, a large, warm hand straying over your breast wakes you up. “Huh?” you ease awake, blinking and looking around in a daze. Your bleary eyes land on Hopper and you grin lazily. “Copping a feel when I’m in a weakened condition?” “Yeah,” Hopper drawls sarcastically, his hand still working over your breast. “Fell asleep, you were so turned on.” The bath is lukewarm now and your hair feels squeaky clean. You smile. “I’m wide awake now, baby.” Hopper raises an eyebrow. You beam toothily at him. “What if I promise not to hit you in the head with my cast?” you giggle. “I wouldn’t believe ya,” Hopper’s moustache twitches. “Once I get ya goin’, you’re not in control of your body.” Wrinkling your nose at him, you stick out your tongue like a child and splash a little water in his face. He rears back, frowning and shaking his head like a dog. “That any way to treat the guy that kneeled on the floor for twenty minutes to wash your hair?” he teases. “I’ll make it up to you,” you wink. “Aw,” Hopper smirks a little, “you drive a hard bargain, sweetheart. Lucky you’re so cute.” He stands, groaning a little, and grabs a towel. He holds it open and you stand up carefully, letting him warm you in the worn terrycloth. Hopper wraps the towel around you and gently lifts you up, settling you on your feet outside the tub. He rubs his hands up and down your arms, warming you completely. You lean into his embrace and Hopper kisses the crown of your head. “That wasn’t quite the sexy kiss I was hoping for,” you mumble. pouting again. “Yeah?” he asks, leading you back into the bedroom. You sit down on the bed while he looks for a pair of old sweats that you like to sleep in. “Sleep the pain pills off and I’ll give ya any kinda kiss you want.” He turns around and you’re fast asleep, sprawled flat on your back, towel threatening to slip open and expose you. With an affectionate eye roll, Hopper quickly changes you into one of his oversized shirts and tucks you in. “Sleep tight, sweetheart,” he murmurs, brushing a large hand over your head.

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[padawanlost]

"I have been noticing how characters who refuse to forgive their antagonists for the wrongs committed against them are being painted on a negative light" - This exactly is what annoys me the most about the whole issue, especially when these takes come from so-called "villain fans" who can't fathom the fact that several, possibly even many people do not want to forgive, and in turn associate or accept their precious uwu redeemed villains. Forgiveness is not a requirement that must be granted, 1/2

2/2 not even if the character in question indeed did change and is remorseful. The horrible deeds were still done and the trauma, pain and consequences of them are still a thing. Characters who were personally hurt too much by said character do have every right to reject associating with them in any form and not forgive. That is not a negative thing despite some third parties apparently thinking they're allowed to pass judgement on every case.            

This happens a lot, especially if the character who is being redeemed is a fan favorite. Many narratives confuse someone redemption with their victim’s forgives. The fact a character realized the wrong of their away and/or took even the slightest step in the right direction is *different* than their victims forgiving them. Luke and Obi-wan forgave Anakin, the rest of the galaxy didn’t. It might be a hard pill to swallow, a lot of people would always considered him as the bad guy, and rightfully so, considering all the pain and misery he caused. This doesn’t make Luke and Obi-wan better than everyone else, it simply shows they heal a different way. That this is how they found peace. Look at Leia, she suffered A LOT at Anakin’s hands and it took her a long time to forgive Anakin and accept him as her biological father but that doesn’t make her a better person than Luke. They are different people, with different upbringing, who had different experiences and thus handled the trauma their father inflicted on them differently. Forgiveness is not something you HAVE to give automatically, it’s something you CHOOSE to give when you feel ready to do so.