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STAR WARS HOT TAKE // THE MONSTER SHE BECAME
A Blacksite Literature™ Transmission (Because sometimes the chosen one burns the temple down.)
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You want to know what would've saved Star Wars?
Rey turning into a Sith. No redemption. No apology. No narrative backflip to avoid bruising her image. Just evil. Cold. Inevitable. Tragic.
She didn’t get there because she was weak -- she got there because the darkness made more sense.
Let me put it in the bluntest terms I can: She should’ve become the fucking monster. Not Kylo. Not some grey-area anti-hero. Not a conflicted girl with a lightsaber fetish. A monster. Just like her grandpapi.
But no. Instead, we got the most sterilized, agenda-drenched narrative in sci-fi history. A trilogy so frightened of letting a woman be flawed, powerful, and damned that it neutered its own potential. You want to know why that upcoming Rey trilogy will be DOA? Because they already wasted the only ending that could’ve saved her arc:
Her fall.
Not a stumble. Not a moment of “oops, dark side temptations.” I mean a complete possession. A willing descent. A new Empress. Palpatine 2.0 -- but better.
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Back in the day, we told stories to scar the soul in a good way. Greek tragedy. Shakespearean collapse. Anakin’s scream. > “I HATE YOU!” Burning, legless, crying in the ash of everything he once was. That wasn’t just cinema. That was myth.
And you know what made it powerful? It wasn’t safe.
Now? Disney thinks danger is offensive. That tragedy is too problematic. That every female protagonist must somehow double as a PR mascot for a toothpaste commercial.
The Force is female? Cool. Then let her fall. Let her fail. Let her choose evil, like any other real character might when backed into a moral corner and seduced by the very blood running through her veins.
But no. Rey had to stay pure. She had to redeem him. Because her ovaries wrote the script, apparently.
Let me ask you: If the dark side can’t take anyone… Then what is it? A glorified emo phase?
Seriously. If you have to already be broody, edgy, or half-insane to fall to the dark side, then the dark side is neutered. Defanged. Just an aesthetic.
But what if it wasn’t? What if the dark side could seduce anyone? Even the girl who smiled. Who loved. Who gave a damn. What if it made sense for her? What if it gave her power that felt natural — like breathing?
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Here’s the thing they never dared write:
Rey has every reason to fall.
She’s a nobody. Her parents abandoned her. She was manipulated, hunted, deceived, isolated. Her identity stolen, retconned, and twisted — first by lineage, then by narrative.
And when she finally learns she’s a Palpatine?
They should’ve made it hurt.
Not a five-minute lightsaber therapy session followed by “I choose the light, teehee.”
No.
Let it destroy her.
Let the name Palpatine sink in like venom. Let it pull her apart. And then?
Let her put herself back together -- not as Rey the Jedi… …but as Rey the Sith.
Let her accept it. Let her say, out loud, “I am what I am.” Let her choose it.
> “You wanted balance? I’ll give you symmetry. > You got your Skywalker that fell to darkness, now you’ll get a Palpatine that never climbs out.”
Imagine the scene: Finn, standing across from her. Lightsaber drawn. She’s wearing black. Her eyes like twin eclipses. No hate. Just serenity. The kind of calm that only a godless tyrant can possess.
And he begs her: > “Come back.”
But she laughs. Like it’s a joke. Because to her, there’s no coming back from truth.
> “You still don’t get it, do you?” > “There was nothing to come back to.”
And that’s when he realizes: She’s gone. Not possessed. Not confused. Gone.
She isn’t drowning in the dark.
She’s breathing in it.
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You want to know what would’ve shaken Hollywood? A love story inverted into a execution.
Finn trains. Finn ascends. Finn becomes Jedi not because of fate, prophecy, or birthright But because he has to kill the woman he loves. Because she became something worse than even Palpatine dreamed of.
And when the moment comes She screams in rage as he drives his saber through her heart. Not in fear. Not in regret.
> In hatred. > Like Anakin. > “I HATE YOU!” > “I WOULD’VE KILLED THE GALAXY FOR YOU AND YOU CHOSE THEM.”
Her last words are not a redemption arc. They’re a final, unrepentant, curse.
And Finn? Finn whispers: > “I loved you anyway.”
That’s cinema. That’s fucking Star Wars.
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But no. We got a PowerPoint deck on empowerment. We got “I’m all the Jedi” and hugs and Skywalker cosplay. We got the girlboss ending that no one asked for And everyone forgot the monster she was born to be.
Disney was so afraid of letting a woman be evil that they stripped her of being interesting.
Newsflash: Flawed female characters are compelling. Villainous women are iconic. Tragedy is beautiful.
> You want to put butts in seats for that next Rey trilogy? > Have the balls to make her the villain.
Start the first scene with the galaxy on fire. The Jedi temples smoldering. Children missing. Acolytes chanting her name.
Not Empress Rey. Not Supreme Leader Rey.
No. Just Rey. One name. One legend. A goddess of wrath forged from legacy and betrayal. The shadow that even Palpatine never cast.
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And Finn? He’s the myth now. The one who loved a monster and still raised a generation of incorruptible Jedi. Not because he was chosen. But because he had to end her.
Because she never came back.
Because she didn’t want to.
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Reblog if you're tired of fake stakes in storytelling Follow for mythic alt-timelines and weaponized narrative Tag someone who thinks Star Wars is too “sacred” to critique
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