#in the epilogue he is deeply sad about not being able to be around monsters anymore

[andsotheuniverseended]

Laios is otherkin

[ga-yuu]

Ikemen Genjiden ‘Holding the shaken up him’ Story Event- Yoritomo Epilogue

After solving the chaos that happened due to possessed items and getting rid of the monsters who caused the disturbance, Lord Yoritomo, who is still under the influence of the special incense, held me tightly from behind.

MC: “Mm......”

He kissed me on the back of my neck while removing my obi sash with one hand. Halfway through, his hand starts to sneak in while undressing me. 

MC: “Mm........ah.......”

He started fondling my breasts with his rough hands which made me moan uncontrollably. I started squirming in arms while he lightly bit me earlobe.

(not good......)

MC: “Haa........”

I couldn’t hold in my moans when his hands work so roughly.

Y: “If you moan like that, I might not be able to hold back.”

Yoritomo kissed my forehead as if to calm me down. 

(I know he is trying to be gentle even though he is under the influence of that incense.....After all, he always cares about me)

My body becomes numb from pleasure, which makes me difficult to stand still.

MC: “Lord Yoritomo, please wait”

Y: “What is it?”

I turned around to face Lord Yoritomo. I reached out hold his cheeks, stood on my tiptoes and kissed him on the lips.

Y:(surprised) “...............”

MC: “Please don’t hold back....”

I could feel Lord Yoritomo’s body getting heated up. I know I did something I don’t usually do, but same as Yoritomo, I can’t hold back either.

MC: “I want to know everything about you.”

(For tonight let’s try to be honest with each other. I want you all to myself)

Y: “......Be ready, because I’m going to take you now?”

He picked me up and laid me down on the bed. Then he took off his own kimono and put his hand on the side of my face.

MC: “Ah.......”

 He kissed me deeply and slowly the tip of his tongue entered inside my mouth. He slowly started to stroke my thigh while still kissing me passionately. I held onto him when he released his lips.

Y: “I’m about to move in.”

MC: “ah....”

He pushed inside of me immediately and started filling me up with himself. He held my hot body while he kept on plunging his warmth in my wetness.

(.......)

I slightly open my eyes to look up at Yoritomo who is moistened by heat and desire burning in his eyes.

Y: "It's a pain when I'm the only one tolerating this. But you don’t seem know how much I want you.”

(Seeing those pair of eyes that is showing me all of his desire, amazes me)

I kept on fully absorbing the deeply engraved heat while filling my heart with all of him.

......................

(Hm..........?)

(I hear the chirping of birds and also I can feel someone patting my head)

(Same dream?.....no, it’s not a dream)

(I’m fully awake now and there was still a warm hands gently stroking my head)

When I strolled with my eyes closed, the hand that was stroking my head suddenly stopped.

Y: “are you awake?”

(Yoritomo.....let’s pretend to sleep a little more)

After a moment, Yoritomo kept stroking my hair again. Slowly he started stroking my cheeks.

(Feeling his gentle arms spoiling me again and again, I couldn’t help myself)

MC: “......Hehe”

Y: “I see you’re awake, don’t pretend to sleep again.”

I instantly opened my eyes when he pinched my cheek.

(I wanted more of that...)

MC: “Do you always do that when I’m sleeping?”

Y: “What’s wrong with loving your woman’s sleeping face?”

Yoritomo tightly hugged me in the bed.

Y: “You look different when you sleep.”

MC: “What......do I look weird?”

Y: “Idiot, it looks cute.”

(Man.....I can’t beat you)

I am filled with sweet excitement and almost forgot my breathing.

Y: “Is your body okay?”

MC: “Yeah, I’m fine.”

I was remembering the last night’s events, a hand gently rubs my back. On one side, it was embarrassing that makes me want to hide inside a hole and never come out, but on the other hand there is a gentle and satisfied feeling.

MC: “Ah......Lord Yoritomo.”

Y: “Hm?what?

(I’ll tell you how I feel again)

Opened my mouth with slight embarrassment.

MC: “I’m really happy when you told me your true feelings.”

Y: “Heh, so you really like being bullied?”

MC: “That’s not what I meant!”

Just I was about to get caught up with one of Yoritomo’s usual teasing, I stopped for a while.

MC: “I was little sad because I felt like I’m the only one who is in love.”

Y: “what?”

Yoritomo’s eyes opened wide.

MC: “I feel like I always get embarrassed easily when you tease me. But it’s better now, I realized that Yoritomo’s usual relaxed attitude is because he values me very much.”

I smiled at him and he kissed me on the lips.

Y: “You were too late to notice that.”

MC: “you’re right”

(Something sweet spread through my heart...It seems the more you know about Yoritomo, the deeper you love him.)

(I’m sure there will be no end to this feeling.)

I hugged Yoritomo in my bed and enjoyed every part of this happy morning.

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Shigehira route- epilogue

Yoritomo route

Benkei route- Epilogue

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

[theorynexus]

Fudge, I already did 57/ Now I have to do 58/ 13 over 12, man / I guess we’re doing human stuff instead of trolling, today.

Coincidentally via some sort of textual wonder possibly related to authorial intent and/or miracles, we now have to focus on Roxy, now. Somewhat ironic, considering Terezi just said she and John wouldn’t work out. ...

***shift eyes, something about knowing the unknowable and the vagueries thereof, possible interference by the new Narrator, et cetera*** Hmmm~

What, so black holes cause suck up all the voidiness into themselves via proximity?!   Noooo~      Who’d have thought!     (In all seriousness, that gives some interesting resonance mechanic relation, here. I want to know whether it’s just Alt!Calliope that can sense said thoughts, if it’s just Roxy being over-emotional, or if any other observer would be able to pick such thoughts up and it’s just a mater of proxy-imity.)

Okay, then. I thought the point of this was to look like a completely passive observer and not tip people off other than via the black eyes, but you do you, I guess-- if that’s intentional.  Nice gazing out through the fourth wall, though. I’m sure Jade would be/is vaguely proud, knowing the narrative resonance, here, given her own fourth wall breaking shenanigans. 

I blame time and void interactions. Also Dave being an insufferable prick. Good to know, regarding Roxy and their feelings toward Dave, though.

Is Dirk going to literally shoot him in the arse?   That would be horribly ironic, and probably quite crippling to Joke Jake’s reputation and/or the power of his endorsement, if so.   Semi-related:   I do sortof understand Dave’s belief/concern with regards to the importance of this event.    What I want to know is why there are not thousands of Daves running around, all helping the campaign and being available to deal with other important tasks.

“Iced” cream is the best fricking thing, Dirk, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.

This really reminds me of Equius and Nepeta, and that is sortof cute. I almost can’t stand it.  Honestly, this relationship is actually quite similar, except Alt!Calliope is much more dominant in the relationship than Nepeta was. Also Dirk probably has more potential to damage things than Equius did (other than way out of the temporal frame of that moirallegiance, as part of Lord English--- and even then, Nepeta ironically acted as a counter to his muscle-bound rage, albeit way after much of the damage had already been done [thanks, Davesprite {albeit, unrelated to the matter at hand, this relationship was probably why Davepettasprite^2 was destined in such a way to handle Lord English, in addition to the prophesies surrounding Dave dealing with him, Davesprite being the first one to get Caledfwlch, and the flying off into the sun prophesy (which was aided greatly by Seppucrow, the true hero of the story)}]).    I guess that makes this relationship relatively more important, maybe.

So fricking wonderful and adorable.   I do wonder why there are not that many consorts, though. Maybe they are just too distracted and hyperactive to have much in the way of drive to participate in politics.  The humans I sortof vaguely understand, albeit I’d have thought that more might show up specifically for Jake’s speech, assuming that it was announced beforehand.

Dirk feels predictably antagonized, and is lashing out. I have a feeling that he’d intended to do something major before all this control was taken from him, but this will probably make it worse. Hmm.

Heh.   I don’t think that he means to “pump her full of daylight,” at the moment, so this is still funny instead of terrifying.

Huh. Dave already knew about Calliope’s gender and is chill with it. Neat.

Oh. Umm... while I’m sure that he does not need that in order to target Jade’s body if he intends to do so, that is quite foreboding. He is indeed quite capable of tricking people into doing things, at times, isn’t he?

HAH!   That is horrible, you self-obsessed weirdo! XD

More serious than being mind controlled by a space witch with bad intentions who has mind powers stolen from all the major players of her species, huh?  (I seriously still wonder how the fight against her went so relatively-seemingly easily, and what happened with her curse.  Maybe it only transfers in LE’s proximity, or something. )      ... Also, it wasn’t entirely just a joke, Roxy, geeze.

Thaaat’s what happens when your world is under a corrupting influence that is twisting the fabric of reality to their whim.  (The question is: Is this Dirk or Calliope?  Does she really have the right to judge him for his actions, if he really is expressing free will in doing so?   Yes, yes she does, because he is strongly subverting the will of others, and justice in Paradox Space demands some sort of counterbalancing force.  If his excess relevance as the Narrator is the only cost he faces, rather than dying a Just Death, he should feel lucky.)

***peals of cherubic laughter peal out in the background***    Random reminder:  Angels (in Homestuck) are terrifying demons that should be taken as harbringers of the apocalypse. Alt!Calliope has already played this job once along with Lord English. Is her presence outside canon an ill omen by definition?  (I am not sure Calliope the younger entirely counts, given her special circumstances, by the way. Hard to say.)

Beautiful. It’s almost like he’s an open PAGE of Hope, waiting to be written! 

This is a somewhat wise impression.  But it’s complicated, and great power means great responsibility. Especially when the nuclear genie has already been let out of the bottle on account of someone’s great ambition.  (Note: I actually find Jane’s impulse to rule over her creation to be a reasonable one to have, all things considered. I am not judging her negatively for this. I am just not 100% certain that it is the right path to go on before they get a few dozen more years to wise them up, or maybe a few centuries.   Wisdom is a very important thing for leadership, and it comes with age!   Of course, experience also helps, but it might be useful to have some sort of smaller-scale experimentation with politic--  oh, wait, wasn’t she made a mayor at some point, according to the credits?  That really hasn’t been emphasized in the epilogue at all, but probably should be more heavily considered.    It’s still not enough experience for me to feel confident in her, but it’s something. Hmm.)

I mean... I can hear you. I thought your awareness was still there. I guess maybe having your position of control taken away from you might have sapped that as well, maybe.   And yes, it is very interesting, indeed. Now, please put down the gun and try to negotiate more reasonably and in a more civilized fashion than the mistaken cowboy diplomacy idea you’re now engaging in. I will give Dirk some slack insofar as he is still getting used to her identifying as such, but he is sortof making a fool of himself by lashing out at Alt!Callie like that. It’s rather irrational, and doesn’t reflect very well on his character. It makes him out as being rather petulant and inflexible when it comes to identity matters.

Yeeeeep.

This is true (regarding the last part).  It is also really sad to see them fighting like this. >:

Dave, you are being a dummy. You should really stop.

Aww. That is a very cute reaction. :3 Also, that is somewhat dishonest, Alt!Calliope.  You should say “seemingly” nothing.  ***harrumphs and wags my finger at them!***

It is somewhat rude of him to laugh, but I am almost tempted to laugh too, specifically at the fact that this is Alt!Calliope confirming emphatically the beauty of their other version in Roxy’s eyes. It has a sort of ironic tension and silliness to it. Possibly some pride.        I therefore cannot entirely blame him for his laughter, for I do not know whether that is what he is laughing at, or if he’s laughing at the idea of finding an alien skull monster beautiful (which she really is).

It is sortof nice to see this encouragement from Dirk, albeit it is probably laced with irony and sarcasm.  Knowing one’s self and admitting/accepting the things one feels is incredibly important to a person’s health! It feels brotherly of him.

I wonder if Roxy actually feels that way (that it is none of her business), or if it’s Alt!Calliope’s somewhat cold (and sarcastically-directed) interpretation of things. Hmm.

A very important question to ask for someone who is dealing with their own identity issues and/or worries about their friends judging them for them. This is really all there is to say on the matter.

That is a complicated question.  The answer is this:  Identity is only partially self-deterministic.  You can certainly struggle and hope and wish for certain things, indulge in certain behaviors, and see what rubs off on you, or what you feel right about, but in all honesty, you are who you are.    This CAN change over time, and that is something that most people don’t think about. To say you “change your mind” about “the person you wanna be” is not an accurate statement: you don’t necessarily choose anything at all, other than whether you want to actually embrace who you are and/or are becoming, and if you will actually tell anyone about it.  In that sense: whether it is too late to change your mind about who you say and outwardly project you are?---  no, it is not too late.  However, it can potentially be pretty fricking confusing to people, and some friends may not be able to handle it, especially if they have pretty deeply imbedded themselves in your own journey/identity, and/or anchored themselves in it as part of their own.   This can cause them to be pretty put off, and potentially to have difficulty maintaining their relationship with you. As such, in summary:   one should be careful and always very much self-reflective about identity issues.  The choice to come out with any sort of change or difference is not an easy one, and someone should not be blamed for either side they fall upon--- whether they want to keep who they are a secret and/or for how long, or if they want to project it to the world (unless they are really violent about it and/or attempt to shame someone/force themselves upon another person as a “necessary” thing to do for their own growth/impulses or whathaveyou: that is just abusive and wrong).

No. While there is some degree of social capital involved and thus you should attempt to time things properly and take the needs of others into account (which means you have no right to get upset at them if they don’t react a certain way and/or are too involved with whatever is going on in their life right then to grapple with your assuredly stunning revelation), one does not owe their friends any sort of bombshell moment, and any sort of desire for one and/or push on someone else’s part for identity-related drama and/or revelation is actually what is greedy.

***shrug***     I guess it’s funny insofar as it has psychological humor wrapped into it and it makes the phraseology more cutesy (thus more approachable, I guess), but it’s not mind-blowing or anything.

And that’s okay. Someone can be casual about these things and not make it a federal fricking issue if they don’t want to.  It’s also okay to have repeated revelations and/or constantly wrestle with who you actually are. It’s not something to be embarrassed about or paranoid with in a social respect, especially in a world with numerous different species of alien humanoids that have different and somewhat conflicting types of identities and drives.  Almost indisputably, that should make identity issues less of a socially big deal.

Yes. Just like you helped him before.   Oh wait, what was that? You had years to figure it out, but did nothing?    Ah, well. Couldn’t be helped, I guess.   Brothers do have their own separate matters to consider, after all.

***snickers***      Honestly, he’s probably right, but for different reasons than he’s expressing.    

***cough time travel, cough***       Note:  I actually don’t want to read that. It would feel like a really awkward sort of waste of narrative time.  I’m just annoyed at the very ironic lack of time manipulation he’s been doing. Though in this case it sortof does suit him, insofar as he is using time concerns that he obviously could get around as if they were a suit of armor and/or armaments for him to verbally exploit.  Very knight-y. Aaand this feels like about the right time to end this post.

[demicorpse]

My qualms with the Animorphs ending. (Spoilers, duh)

So. Around a week ago I finished all 54 of the core Animorphs books, and like many, I was pretty disappointed by the ending. I’d even go as far as to say I was angry about it. Not angry enough to write a rant tweet at the main author, but angry enough to rant about it on a tumblr post where 10 people might see it and agree with me. I’m going to list some of the main issues regarding the last few books, as well as the final book itself. Let’s take it from the top.

The Auxiliary Animorphs.

On paper? This doesn’t seem like a bad idea. Writing in a bunch of handicapped kids and giving them cool powers, while also slowly developing them and not focusing on just their disabilities? Sounds great! Only Applegate didn’t exactly understand what that meant. The Aux. Animorphs are introduced in book 50, The Ultimate, and after a big battle, they’re almost immediately moved to the sidelines. They’re mentioned in passing as ‘James and his group’ when they’re needed to provide a distraction or maybe fight some kind of battle, but other than that, and maybe some characterization of the kids in book 50, we don’t learn a whole lot about ‘James and his group’. I get it. Balancing so many new faces is hard, especially when your series in ending in 4 books, but maybe you could’ve... I don’t know... lessened the scope of the group? Or maybe you could’ve introduced them earlier, so that we can, at the very least, gain a glimpse towards what they’re like? We know so much about the main Animorphs, but when it comes down to the Aux. Animorphs, all I remember is that James wanted Pedro, his best friend forever, to get a morph of his own (which never really developed into anything? Or maybe Applegate forgot to explicitly state he’s part of the group, but, whatever.), and that in the end, they all die namelessly. Again, as part of a distraction tactic. A bunch of handicapped kids who were told the world is being taken over by aliens are introduced, and all they do is die at the end. No mention of them whatsoever in the ending book, after the war was ended. Not even a single page regarding how brave they were, to just trust the Animorphs despite how crazy they sound, and fight by their side, even LOSE one of their own before they all die a book later.

It’s stupid. The Aux. Animorphs could’ve been so much cooler had Applegate wasn’t so deeply invested in her ‘these books tell a war story!’ thing. They had potential to be memorable, and yet, I don’t even remember the names of the main kids that were intro’d in their book. Just James. By the way, James was a way better leader than Jake by the end. Actually, let’s talk about Jake.

Jake’s character was brutally murdered and replaced with an evil clone. So was Rachel’s.

Reading the last few books was, honestly, a festival of awkward and head-shaking moments for me. You mean to tell me that this is where Jake breaks? Jake, the leader of the Animorphs, the one who’s kept the alive, the one who’s brought them together when they thought they wouldn’t be able to make it, Jake, Marco’s best friend, Cassie’s boyfriend, Rachel’s cousin, JAKE, breaks at the end and sacrifices everything. His cousin? A sacrifice. The Aux. Animorphs and one of the only military officials willing to listen to him and his men? A sacrifice. 

I can’t put it into words how disappointed I am over both Jake and Rachel. Jake turned into a monster. He turned into someone he vowed he never would turn into. Remember when he said, like, two books before the end: “Defeat the Yeerks. Don’t become them.” What the hell happened to that when you flushed down 17 thousand Yeerks into space and let them freeze to death? 

Don’t get me started on his hatred towards Cassie by the end (which is 100% totally fixed when she has a mental breakdown don’t worry guys ahahaha fuck I fucked up their relationship and now I can’t really fix it well enough ok they hugged and they’re ok now). Like, I get it. I get it, Jake. You lost the morphing cube and Tom because Cassie thought she’d do something good. But is he seriously daft enough to just disregard any reasoning for what she did and go around acting like a child who got his toy taken away? Isn’t he the one that’s supposed to move on from things quickly? Just... Jake isn’t the same character by the end, but it’s not even a fluid change. It’s so drastic that when you’re reading it, it’s like a completely different character was introduced into the Animorphs with no explanation whatsoever. Yeah, war changes people, but Marco stayed the same. Tobias, more or less, stayed the same. Ax changed, but that was after the war, and it was for the better. Cassie stayed the same. 

Jake should’ve been written better. Because if he was, he wouldn’t have gotten so many people killed, including himself right at the end. 

And, oh God, Rachel... what have they done to you? Rachel went from someone who likes the thrill of the fight (admittedly, maybe a little too much) and is capable of making smart decisions, to someone who’s willing to drive over a military general even though he’s simply asking her to stop (in a truck full of EXPLOSIVES no less), as well attempt to hit Cassie in anger (good thing Tobias is her moral compass) after she confesses that she let Tom go on purpose. Hey, while we’re at it, let’s talk about her death.

Rachel’s death is stupid.

Let’s get one thing out of the way: Rachel is my favourite character in Animorphs, second close being Ax. I’m obviously upset about her death, so I’m sorry if I sound a little biased. 

Rachel’s death is plain dumb and stupid and shouldn’t have happened. It wouldn’t have happened had Applegate not convinced herself that all of her character deserve to suffer and die by the end, leaving a hopeless pit in my stomach after I closed the .PDF to the final book. You’re telling me that one of the most fierce human warriors I’ve read about in my entire life just gives up at the end. She spits out Tom’s body, demorphs, and that’s it. She gives up. Doesn’t even attempt to go down fighting. She just says some cliche line to Tobias and dies. I will give Applegate credit for creating one of the best post-death scenes I’ve ever read (”You mattered.” is so good), but that doesn’t redeem her death in my eyes. She’s killed off because Applegate claims Animorphs is a ‘war story’. A war story in which kids turn into animals, alien slugs crawl into people’s ears and control them, time travel happens on more than one occasion, and Ax is Tobias’ uncle. Sure. War story. Since it’s a war story, there’s no hope for any of the characters. But I’ll get to that at the end.

Anyway, Rachel shouldn’t have died. No amount of convincing will have me think otherwise. I don’t care how reckless she was described as, she’s not reckless enough to go on a suicide mission and die to make the reader feel upset. Plus, if Jake was SO hellbent on winning, why couldn’t he have sent James up there to deal with Tom? It’s not like he cared about the fates of the Aux. Animorphs by that point, so why not have one less trauma on your head and send in someone you see as disposable? At least let Jake retain some of his intelligence, Applegate.

Oh, yeah, the ending.

The ending is hopeless, and if you thought your characters’ struggles will pay off, fuck you.

“Ram the Blade Ship”, Jake says with Rachel’s smile, and seconds later, he and his friends die in a horrible explosion in space, limbs either blown apart or frozen. Oh, and Ax has been assimilated into some omnipotent entity that comes quite literally out of nowhere, so it’s safe to say that he’s classified as ‘dead’. The only one left on Earth is Cassie, who has to live with the fact that she’s the last Animorph left alive. Thinking about it, it’s pretty funny that the only one who lives in the end is Cassie, who always advocated for a more peaceful approach, if possible. Great irony, Applegate. 10/10.

Anyway, this whole thing stinks. Applegate claims the ending is up to interpretation (I think, from what I’ve read in her epilogue it certainly seems that way), but I think it’s bullshit. She claims there’s no happy endings in war. That’s bullshit. I can’t express how... just bullshit the ending is.

These kids who have fought for 3 years, these kids who have shed blood, sweat, and multiple tears across 54 books and several spin-offs, these kids who went through so much and where a ‘win’ barely counted as that, these kids get... nothing. No one is happy. Even Marco, who was relatively happy with his post-war life is dragged into Jake’s suicide mission, only to die alongside him, because poor Jake couldn’t get over the fact that he didn’t think of a better plan to save both his cousin and his brother.

No, thinking on it, they DO get something! They get death and an ‘open’ ending, which is just as open as Chick-fil-A on a Sunday. When you make a reader constantly read through HEAPS of books about how depressed these kids are, about their struggles and their failures and how they never really win anything, they mostly react to their enemies’ movements, it just makes the reader feel hopeless. And so by the end, when you just kill off everyone but a single character that knew better, the reader feels sad, and angry, and upset. And maybe Applegate wanted to go for that. 

Conclusion. Jesus Christ, Applegate.

The job of a writer is to string words together well enough to make people feel an emotion, whether negative or positive. And admittedly, she achieved that. But in my opinion, I’d rather close Animorphs knowing that these kids know at least some form of peace. That Jake rescues his brother and he can live out his life alongside him. That Rachel survives and that she can attend high-end fashion shows. That Tobias and his mother (who isn’t mentioned at all at the end, by the way? Guess she wasn’t important enough to the plot!) make up all the time they’ve lost when Tobias didn’t know she actually cared about him. That Marco does his thing, being a comedian, in peace, and visits Jake and his friends whenever he wants to. That Cassie pursues her own career and yeah, maybe she’s not together with Jake anymore, but at the very least, they’re happy to see one another. That Ax avenges his brother by killing Visser Three/One, and becomes a War Hero in his world, as well as a very good War Prince, and that he doesn’t forget to visit his second home.

Whether you liked the ending or not, this is the kind of ending I was hoping for. Something to ease me at the end. Something that would make me feel good after reading so much about the lives of 4 human kids, a half-bird half-boy, and an alien. But no. I get despair. I get death and I get sadness and I get an empty feeling in my heart that will always remain so as long as I remember Animorphs. Because no matter how much I’ll try and rewrite the ending, it’ll always stick with me, this one thought: Everybody dies and no one is happy. 

Animorphs has war, but it’s not a war story. Animorphs has tactics, strategy, guerilla warfare, espionage, but it’s not a war story. And even if I’m wrong, even if it is a war story, why can’t the characters be happy? Why can’t the characters get the one bit of compensation for their struggles?

Maybe I’m just too much of an optimist, and none of this matters. Maybe I should get used to bad endings, because let’s face it, this isn’t a good ending, or even a neutral one. This is as bad as it gets. Maybe I should suck it up and grow some thick skin.

But God damn, the ending to Animorphs sucked. 

[postedbygaslight]

You’ll Be the One to Turn - Part 44: Lux Aeterna

These chapters have taken a lot out of me. I don’t know if there’ll be a proper chapter 45. I’ll probably write three epilogues. But I’m not even going to begin to think about that right now. I’m emotionally blasted, and I’m taking a rest.

He’s dead. He’s supposed to be. And yet, his eyes open. Only, are they really his eyes? Are these eyelids? Is this his face? Is what he’s feeling a feeling at all? Or just the dream of a feeling?

Or the feeling of a dream.

Or nothing.

Everything.

It’s dark, but, yet, not. It’s light so bright it’s blinding. It’s endless gray that never actually begins. And yet it always has been. Where did this start? He’s unable to grasp what he’s meant to do. Or see. If doing or seeing are actual things in this place he’s found himself. If this is a place at all.

Rey.

He can see her.

He can’t remember her face. He can’t forget it.

The future she showed him haunts him. It sustains him. He hasn’t had time to understand it. He’s known it so long, he no longer knows anything else.

Time, it seems, has no power here. One second is a lifetime. One lifetime, a second.

And the warp and weft of Force’s endless loom spools our before him, offering numberless causeways to travel, threads to follow. But he can’t see the one thread he’s looking for.

This shouldn’t be happening, he thinks. And then he falls into a rhetorical trap, debating whether he can think anything at all, and whether anything at all can happen to someone who’s already been torn away from the Living Force.

But has he been torn away? What actually happened?

He bled to death in Rey’s arms on Naboo.

He was killed by Rey in a duel on Starkiller Base.

He was incinerated on the deck of his Star Destroyer when the stormtroopers rebelled.

He died, a lightsaber scorching through his heart, at the hands of his uncle, while he slept.

How many futures have already been spent? How many pasts never were?

And all at once, he’s himself again. Whatever that means. He’s standing on the salt flats of Crait as the sun sets. The wind is high, sweeping across the barren landscape. There’s no battle here. No rebel base. No wounded hatred. No desperate need to burn away the weak parts of himself. Just the salt and the sun, and an endless cloud streaked sky.

“Ben,” a voice resonates across the distances, sage and knowing.

Ben turns to see him, much as he looked that day, walking toward him, a being of dim light tinged with an aura of gentle blue.

“Luke.”

Luke, dressed in his simple Jedi robes, comes to a halt a few paces from Ben. His face is tired and careworn, but peaceful.

“You already know what I’m going to say,” Luke says, a deeply mournful tone in his soft voice.

“You said it once already.”

“And I’ll never be able to say it enough.”

Ben can’t see the point of this. His life is over. Whatever place or time they’ve come to, whether Luke is truly sorry, and whether Ben accepts that, the time has come and gone for that to have any meaning.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Luke says, walking a step closer to him. “It matters more now than ever.”

Ben remembers the night in his room at the temple. It’s a memory he’d nurtured and protected, returning to it again and again to fuel his terror, his fury, his abject hatred, and to let the cold of the cruel darkness take root in his heart. He remembers it so vividly that it strikes him now that he doesn’t have a single memory of Luke other than that one that seems to hold any meaning anymore.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” Ben says, an angry tremor stirring in his voice, even as he feels nothing of the rage that he once held in his heart toward Luke.

“You don’t have to forgive me, and I’m not asking for forgiveness,” Luke says, sitting on a large rock that Ben hadn’t noticed before.  “I only want you to know that I know I wronged you. I didn’t trust you or myself, and I gave in to fear. I failed you. And I’m sorry.”

They’re words he’s wanted to hear. They’re words that remind him of happiness and a home he’s never sure he’s actually had, even as they stir vicious swirls of hatred deep within him. But there’s something in the way Luke said them, a note of revelation, that draws Ben in. He can suddenly sense the eddies and flows of the Force around them, and appreciates what this is.

This isn’t death. Or the netherworld. Or another plane of existence. He’s still right where he was before, cradled in Rey’s arms as he lies dying on the floor of the focusing chamber on Naboo. And he sees again his furious attempt to break the crystal’s will. His last entreaty to the phantasm of Anakin Skywalker— Darth Vader— to aid him. To bring him enough power through the darkness. And he feels again the totality of his failure, and the silence of the mask on the altar.

“I saw his memories,” Ben says, knowing Luke can sense his thoughts. “Your father’s. I saw him turn to the Dark Side.”

“Then you saw more than I did,” Luke responds, his worn expression filled with old hurt, struck through with loss and longing. “And understand more than I ever will.”

“I understand he was cruel,” Ben says, remembering Anakin’s exhilaration as he killed the Separatists, and his sense of righteousness and dark justice as he forced Padmé to submit. “And he wanted to hurt people.”

“And he loved my mother. And his fear destroyed him.”

Ben wants to refute Luke immediately. He wants to say that Anakin didn’t love Padmé. That he couldn’t have. That he wanted only to possess and control her. But Ben knows it isn’t entirely true. He could feel the warmth of their love, a peculiar feeling when compared to the bond he and Rey built together. And he knows now that the possessive rage, the desperate, urgent desire to protect what he loved— Ben recognizes the same in himself. Recognizes it, and knows how close he’d been to losing Rey to his own murderous impulses.

“Did he really turn back to the Light? At the end.”

“Ben, I’ve talked about it so much in those simple terms, and it took me years to really understand my father’s conflict. When I confronted him, I was younger than you. I was still a boy myself in many ways,” Luke looks off into the limitless gray horizon, the burden of his destiny still hanging on him like a shroud of chains. “The Jedi and the Sith have always talked about turning. It’s not about being on one side or the other. It’s about where you’re headed. Did my father reject the Emperor’s teachings? Yes. For a moment. But it was the right moment.”

He can see it as Luke looks up at him. Luke, a young man, his face clean shaven, his sandy hair swept aside. Dressed all in black, as though he mourned for someone he’d never known. Vader, a tower of metal and plastene, a clotted wound in the Force, bleeding decades of anger and hatred. And he senses what Luke sensed. Something so familiar.

The spark. A tiny, flickering light deep within the soul of Anakin Skywalker. Ben sees the child, crouching in the inky blackness. He is nine or ten. Blond hair. White and cream colored clothing— like Rey’s when she lived on Jakku. His face is sad and frightened, and his eyes betray the loss and sadness of a hundred lifetimes. He clings to the ember, racked with shivers, and cannot even bring himself to weep. There are no more tears that can be shed.

I feel the good in you. Let go of your hate.

And the shadow conceals the desert boy from view, as Vader’s black storm cloud cloak folds in around him like a predator protecting its young.

It is... too late for me... son.

Ben shudders away from the cold shroud of Vader’s presence. He looks to Luke, and then around at the stark, endless horizon.

“What happens now?”

“What do you want to happen?” Luke asks, standing.

“I’ve never had anything I’ve wanted,” Ben responds. “Not really.”

Luke slowly closes the distance between them, holding his gaze, his eyes deep with knowledge and understanding.

“She loves you.”

Even though it’s something he knows, something so fundamental and essential to his reckoning of who he is, hearing Luke say it takes him aback. And he realizes that he never truly believed Rey loved him. Not as he is now. Or as he was.

“She loves someone who I might have been,” Ben says, shaking his head, the grief of it too raw and near for him to fully grasp. “Someone who won’t ever be.”

“No,” Luke says, and the emphatic way he pronounces it shakes Ben to his core. “Loving someone for who they could be— for what they have the potential to become— is hope. And hope is the purest form of love.”

Luke’s gaze cuts deep into him, and he thinks of the ember shielded from the dark by young Anakin. Ben thinks of the blast of light that released from his own spirit when he bled the crystal in the cargo hold of the Finalizer. He remembers its power. And he knows now where he’s felt it before. The blinding light at the heart of the bond. Within the bloom of warmth, that blaze of starfire. A light that cannot be doused or diminished.

Hope.

“It’s a rare gift,” Luke continues. “And one not lightly given.”

Ben can see her. She’s holding him in her arms. She won’t let go of his body. He can feel her despair, and her acceptance of the finality of what is to be.

“It’s too late now.”

Luke takes another step toward him. He’s only a pace away now.

“It’s never too late.”

“How did you do it?” Ben asks, reaching for some way to understand. To accept. “How did you save your father?”

“I didn’t save him. He saved himself. I only reminded him that he could.”

Ben sees it through Luke’s eyes. The Emperor standing over him, his cruel yellow eyes thrilling in the pain he’s able to inflict, cords of lighting streaming from his fingertips, lashing Luke with violent blasts. Only now, at the end, do you understand. Gray teeth bared in a twisted, corpse-like scowl. And Vader. Standing there. Watching.

Father! Please!

And Ben feels Anakin Skywalker emerge from behind the mask as he regards the monster at his side. This man. My tormentor. My jailer. My master. He asked for my freedom, and I gave it. He asked for my name and my life as I’d known it, and I gave those, too. He will not have my son.

Ben sees Luke’s memory. Of a dark throne room. Of pain and electric smoke. Of sudden shock as Anakin Skywalker, imprisoned in the shell of Darth Vader, lifts the ghoul at his side into the air, summoning the last strength he has in his powerful frame, heaving the Emperor into the reactor shaft as lethal ropes of lightning snap through his metal body.

Ben steps back, shaken.

“B— but, how— how can I—“

“You already have,” Luke says, reaching up to touch Ben’s face. Ben can’t stop the tears, if there really are tears in this place, from spilling down his cheeks, and he shakes his head.

“After what I’ve done—“

“Reach out with your feelings. What do they tell you?”

Ben looks into his uncle’s sad, hopeful eyes. And he does reach out. And he feels it. His mother. Not the memory of her, but her. Bright and shimmering in the Force. And his father, joined with her there, his strength and love blended in with hers as they exist still, together, beyond the reach of pain or sorrow.

He meets Luke’s eyes, and he breaks. Whatever enmity he felt for his uncle strips away, and all he can feel now is a deep and lasting gratitude.

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Luke says, stepping back from him and letting his hand drop to his side. “This is the lesson. My last lesson. The same one I tried to show you here. Those you’ve loved, and those who’ve loved you, they’re never really gone. They’ll always be with you. Just as I’ll always be with you. And your father will always be with you. And your mother will always be with you.”

Luke motions to the horizon, stepping back again. Ben can sense this place starting to bleed away into the Force around them.

“The past doesn’t ever die. Just as the future never actually is. What lies between the two is hope. And, hope, Ben, is accepting that you can’t make the future what you want. And recognizing that fear will drive you to destroy what you love even as you try to save it,” Luke says, shimmering with flashes of blue and white as he and the apparition of Crait blink away. “You have to trust. You have to trust enough to let go.”

And he does. He lets go of his hate. And the anger that fueled so much of his misery washes away like streaks from a windowpane. He feels the brilliant light of his mother’s love, and the earnest fierceness of his father’s. He feels Luke’s love, too: yielding, distant, but resolute and unchanging.

He finally understands. And accepts. And knows. The future spreads out before him in limitless causeways and paths, and he finally sees that he can’t make any one of them come to be. He has to walk a path, and let the future come as it will. He sees now, at last, that the only thing that can destroy the future that he wants is his own fear, his own inability to let be what will be, to try to take control and bend destiny to his command. He has to let go of that fear. He has to hope.

And as he is enveloped in the warmth and light of Rey’s love for him, he closes his eyes, and takes the first step forward on a new path, trusting to the Force that it will guide him home.

***

She’s still holding to him, even as his body is limp and lifeless. She clings to him so tightly it’s as though she hopes the ache of emptiness in her will somehow be comforted by press of his skin against hers.

Even as he’s gone. Even as he’ll never return.

The sobs coming from her now are so broken and violent that she doesn’t know how she’ll ever be able to breathe again. And part of her wants to stay here with him, to sink into death, to go to the darkness to find him, because if this is what living will be, she doesn’t know how she can do it.

Perhaps that’s why, when the cold in her starts to blaze with warmth, she thinks for a moment that she has actually died. That she willed herself into the Force. That she could not go on alone.

But it’s not death. And it’s not comfort. It’s the familiar warmth of the bond. And she can see it again, the thread. It’s shining so brilliantly, it overcomes everything else around it. And confusion gives way to disbelief as she feels Ben take in a sharp breath and his hands close around her arms as though he’s been drowning and somehow reached the shore.

She pulls back to see him staring up at her, his eyes filled with wonder and gratitude, and she can’t stop the tears from flowing as her heart overflows, spellbound with a joy so pure and unencumbered that she doesn’t care at all how any of this is possible.

His arms are closing around her as he sits up and their eyes are locked in the shared awe of this new embrace. The warmth and fire shared between them blazes outward and crashes back in, the Force blooming and collapsing in rushes, a crackling blend of ecstatic energies all around them.

She sees it in his eyes, and she knows he sees it, too. The future she showed him returns in a thousand different paths, brilliant and shining with color, a slowly tilting prism of perfect crystal. For the first time since she’s known him, Ben Solo’s face is filled with hope, and as she kisses him, the Force swirls and keens around them in a balance of shadow and light so strong it carries their spirits aloft as though they’d never been parted at all.

They kiss, and kiss again, and hold each other, parting only in brief instances, their names on each other’s breaths as they embrace in the soft white glow of the kyber heart, finally together in the Light.