#were are sw going to give me a show about the organas

[girlrandomstuff]

LOOK AT HIM, FINALLY BAIL ORGANA GETTING TO A POSTER AS HE SHOULD

#star wars #bail organa #it's his freaking year #NAME A BETTER MAN ILL WAIT #he deserves all the screen time #tales of the jedi #ahsoka tano #baby snips #count dooku #qui gon jinn #obi wan kenobi #mace windu #anakin skywalker #sixth brother #Inquisitor #were are sw going to give me a show about the organas #i would totally be cool if it's animated but if it's live action would be even better #THANK YOU DAVE FILONI #I LOVE THE HAT MAN

[agirlunderarock]

28 and 29 for the SW asks! 💛

HELLO Friend! Dude I love these questions and I refuse to let this fall into the abyss of my ask box-

28. If you could stop one character from doing one thing, who would it be and why?

Theres two very specific moments that I would want to step in and be like "NOPE- NO YOU DON'T" And surprisingly, they have nothing to do with Anakin. Its really hard for me to pick between these two moments, but I'd be very curious to know what would happen if they didn't happen.

The first is from the Phantom Menace when Padme is making her plea to the senate and Senator Palpatine is telling her to make call for a vote of no confidence in Chancellor Valorum. I know theres a lot of talk about Anakin being groomed by Palpatine, but Padme was too. Padme learned a lot from him, and looked up to him as well. Getting her to call that vote is what led to him being elected Chancellor- he had absolutely no intention of letting her go fight a war. He was going start the civil war of the republic right then and there. He planted the seeds. The only reason Naboo wasn't the first causality of the war was because Padme is stubborn as hell and the tactics he tried to use to manipulate her just pushed her further toward compassion. So I just wonder, if she hadn't called for Vallorum to be replaced, and instead just went straight back home to fight her war how that might have derailed some of Palpatine's plans for a while. Clearly the war didn't start when he wanted it to, and had to wait ten more years- hell that might be why he started using the clones in the first place because so long as the jedi were protecting meddling children/senators it would be more difficult to start a war.

The second moment is in Attack of the Clones when Jar Jar moves to grant Palpatine emergency powers. I say this because unless I like brain farted some of the info- while the clones were made for the republic they were "commissioned by the jedi" so if Yoda really wanted to- could have taken a few ships gone in saved the folks in the arena and yoinked off planet. Right? Then like showed up at Palpatine's door step like "Huge ass army Separatist have-" and then it would go before the senate what to do about the clones and if they should really be their standing army or an investigation committee would be made to like figure out where they fuck they came from since this is all new to the jedi too- But like if Palpatine didn't have the power to bypass all of that I feel like starting the clone wars would have been a lot more difficult. Like I could be wrong and the only thing that would happen is that all the jedi + Padme die in the arena but like? I don't think so.

So yeah, my big "Bruh don't do it" moments have absolutely nothing to do with Anakin and everything to do with the political side of things in star wars and wondering if the politics in itself would be enough to ruin Palpatine's plans. Like just imagine he had this whole elaborate plan with back up after back up, but just as he's about to put it in action, he's finishing his final term, but if he has emergency powers then he can stay in office longer- oops no one moved to grant them, now his seat is taken by Bail Organa. Clone wars? What was that? I only know that time Bail purged all the corporate entities from the senate and thus prevented the separatist crisis from getting worse

I know its all supposed to be a a commentary about giving into personal emotions and politics and stuff but could you imagine?

That went on so much longer than it was supposed to I'm so sorry ;-;

29. Which character doesn't get enough credit or screentime?

Bail Organa purely for the reasons I described above. We get a lot of Padme bumping heads with other senators and going to Palapatine for help- and I know we get-

wait

I'm actually going to take a moment and like hate myself for saying this, BUT I think the potential this character had would have been really interesting. I think if he had been used as more than just a prop to make more Jedi/Politician ships and you know we actually got hear more from them and like minded people it would have been great! Its actually why I write Sas the way I have plotted so far

Like I can't believe I'm saying this about this weird stale piece of bread dude, but Lux Bontari- really Mina Bontari. I think Lux was a little too young still, but I think about Mina Bontari A LOT.

The Bontari's are the key to understanding why Dooku and the others have actual planets backing them, if we would have had more actual good time with them, we could have seen how they view some of the war crimes their generals commit are viewed. Like you can't tell me Mina agreed with the way Ryloth was handled, you can't. If she's friends with Padme, I HIGHLY doubt Mina would have liked the idea of using Twi'leks as shields to keep out republic troops. We could have had really interesting stories with them, or really just characters that aren't concerned with "preserving the republic" would have been nice. Something that shows just how freaking far Palpatine's manipulation actually goes you know?

but like if you want me to say a character that should just have more screen time in general? Hera. I love her, I love that she's not a force sensative character but she's doing the MOST. Or if I were being petty based off our conversation the other day lol- Boba Fett. Man deserved to be the star of his own show

And again I went on for too long, but if anyone else would like to do these questions themselves here's the full list!

#Star wars ask #We went on a lot of tangents this time but like these were two really good questions I didn't expect to have a lot of feelings about but #I did and just sorta went off #I'm not a huge fan of Lux Bontari or really ANY senator characters but like they serve a narrative purpose and like I would have liked #his to go beyond setting up another jedi/politician relationship #I know in my heart they're all meant to parallel Panakin but like it doesn't have to be ;-; #sorry thats another tangent that has more to do with my personal taste and me being miffed with that one moment in the Onderon arc

[rise-above-the-grave]

[smashes down door] who is Bail and why do you like him? I could look it up but I'd rather you gush over him

OH BOY.

So first off, a quick (canon) history lesson: Bail Organa was the Senator and Viceroy (aka Prince Consort) of Alderaan. If you don't know what that means (because old titles are Weird - I'm not judging the only reason I know this is because of this very character), it means that Breha, Bail's wife, is ruling Queen of Alderaan and was the heir to the throne. She married Bail, making him a ruler by marriage, though technically she still held the crown. He, at some point, was also elected Senator of Alderaan, and was Senator leading up to and during The Clone Wars (and after, but we're getting to that).

So Bail, we come to find out, became (best) friends with Padmé Amidala. We see him in a couple of scenes in Attack of the Clones with Padmé, just kinda vibing and making the occasional commentary. We know he stood with her on the Opposition bill (the bill Padmé was nearly killed over at the beginning of AOTC, which was against the formation of a Republic military), though we don't learn much about the rest of his politics until later.

So he's kinda...there, but obvs isn't the focus of the story, and is really just a minor background character. The first real insight we get into Bail is, actually, a really tiny character moment right at the end of AOTC, when Palpatine and some of the Senators are looking down at the Clone troops loading up onto the ship, watching their new military gear up for war.

Bail looks away. While everyone else is staring down at the (slave) army, some of them smiling (like Sheev), some of them just serious, Bail looks away from them and makes this tiny little hand gesture: a simple, closed fist knocking against the banister of the balcony.

It's this, I think, that first piqued my interest in this character. He was the only one not triumphant in that situation. He was the only one who saw things for what they were: a tragedy, and a horror, and that this wasn't something to celebrate but to mourn.

Then we come to Revenge of the Sith, and boy howdy. The man may have like 10 minutes of screen time, but does he make those 10 minutes count!

A quick bullet point of the Important Things Bail Does in ROTS:

When the Jedi Temple is burning, what does Bail do? He flies to it to figure out what's going on and see if he can save anyone. He then watches as a youngling is shot and killed by Clone Troopers, and manages to escape because he's a fucking badass.

Please note, to our knowledge, Bail is the only one who actually goes to check on the Jedi Temple.

As soon as he escapes the Temple, Bail immediately - like immediately - takes his ship and goes to find any surviving Jedi. He is almost certainly the reason both Yoda and Obi-Wan don't walk into the trap that is the Jedi Temple, or are captured - and even if that's not true, he most definitely is the reason they manage to sneak safely onto Coruscant and figure out what happened.

He's the one who rescues Yoda (again) after Yoda's failed duel with Palpatine in the Senate. Which, let me rant about the SYMBOLISM of that for a second please. Because holy shit, the entire duel between Yoda and Palpatine takes place in the Senate, with the Senate building and pods. Here Palpatine proves to Yoda that yes, he is the Senate, he controls it, the new Empire is under his control and no one can stop him. But then - but then - Yoda escapes, and who saves him? Bail. Bail sneaks in with a speeder, saves Yoda, and gets him back to safety. Which is such a huge fucking metaphor for the fact that Bail will be the one who, ultimately, is responsible for Palpatine's defeat. But, more on that later.

Bail is there when Padmé (remember, his best friend) gives birth to Luke and Leia. Bail is literally one of 3 sentients in the galaxy who canonically knows about both Luke and Leia.

Bail instantly offers to adopt one of the children, saying "She will be loved with us." (And then she absolutely is.)

And he does all of that in line 10 minutes of screen time.

He shows up again briefly in Star Wars Rebels, and again in Rogue One, but I'm going to take a trip down a side alley here into a territory that is grossly unused in the SW EU: the founding of the Rebellion.

So we don't actually know much about how the Rebellion got started. What we do know is that Bail was one of the (if not the main) Founders. Bail was the mastermind behind the Rebellion, by all accounts knowing...everything about it: who was who, who did what, where they were located, etc. He knows (and controls) Fulcrum in Rebels, as just one example, and Fulcrum is considered by that text to be one of the most powerful Rebel operatives at the time. In Rogue One (regardless of whether you liked what they did with the Rebellion which, side note, I did not), we see he certainly has a position of great authority and power. People respect him, and listen to him, and he's on an even footing with Mon Mothma (or Mom Mothma as my autocorrect tried to say) who is canonically one of the most powerful people in the Rebellion, according to ROTJ.

More than what he did, though, we can look to his character as a reason I love him. He is a good, kind, honorable man who does (or at least tries) his best. We see again and again, throughout all of SW media he's in, that he consistently chooses the right path, regardless of whether or not it's the easy one. He fights corruption, fights for justice, fights for freedom, fights against tyranny.

He is also, canonically, an amazing father and (according to EU content, since Breha literally doesn't have a spoken line in any media content) an incredible husband. We know he's well-loved by his people, and by the Rebellion, by the extraneous texts and mentions about him in the wake of his death on Alderaan. He's also respected by many Senators during his time in the Clone Wars (Padmé makes a comment in a TCW episode about how he's the best and most respected speaker and Senator she knows), and regardless of how people felt about him after the Rise of the Empire (which is, unfortunately - or fortunately maybe, because I don't trust Disney to do it right - up to headcanon), the fact remains that Bail played an incredibly tricky position as an Imperial Senator, having to balance fighting for his people, the people of the galaxy, and setting up the Rebellion, with not making himself too much of a nuisance, or too much of a traitor, that Palpatine straight up had him executed.

Which, speaking of that, can we also take a moment to appreciate the fact that Bail knew almost every single secret that Palpatine and Vader wanted??? He knew where Obi-Wan was, and possibly where Yoda was. He knew where both of Anakin and Padmé's children were. He knew everything about the fledgling Rebellion. Like...that man, had he been captured and interrogated (and had he broken) would have damned the entire galaxy. Yet he never was. He played his cards perfectly, and was either never suspected, or was able to somehow hide all of the information they wanted to know from being found. Personally, I suspect a mixture of the two.

Furthermore, Bail Organa is a great father and husband. He is directly responsible for Leia being the amazing woman we know and love. The one shot we get of Breha, you can practically see and feel the love and adoration Bail has for her radiating off of him through the screen. Literally the most unproblematic ship in Star Wars. I have never seen a single person say they aren't amazing (unless they just want to break them up to make Bail gay? Which, come on, bisexual and polyamorous people exist, y'all. But that's a talk for another time).

If you're still not convinced, the only thing left that I can say is: I'm a raging lesbian and like, while I definitely wouldn't fuck him, Bail/Jimmy Smits (his actor) is handsome. Have some pictures that I have saved on my phone for when I'm feeling sad.

Tl;dr: Bail Organa is singlehandedly responsible for putting into motion the events that secure the galaxy's freedom, not only by being one of the founding fathers of the Rebellion, but also by reaching Yoda and Obi-Wan before the new Empire can, and getting them safely to Coruscant. He is a good, kind, and noble man who does his best in shitty times, and even if he has to make hard choices, he always makes them for the right reasons. He is a loving father, husband, and ruler, who does right by his people and his family. He fights for what's right, even when that fight is nearly impossible. He's a badass, and arguably a literal genius (you'd have to be, to do the kinds of things he does in canon).

Anyway, Bail Organa is great and I love him - and you should too.

#bail organa #breha organa #leia organa #obi wan kenobi #yoda #padme amidala #sheev palpatine #anyway i love him lots #also for any lotr peeps who read this (or at least are reading the tags) #he's basically elrond in space

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Poe Dameron / Home

Summary: Childhood friends who grew apart, Poe and you find your way back to each other. Again and again.

Word Count: 21,540

Warnings: M, swearing (i don’t use the star wars swears I’M SORRY), sexual situations (smut who am i kidding), mentions of amputation and injuries, angst, spoilers for TFA

A/N: the fact I’m writing a sw fic astonishes me. I have evaded this fandom. But that changed when I read @damerondjarin​‘s fic “Show me the Stars” on a whim at 4 AM b/c social distancing has messed w/ my sleep. Anyway that’s when I discovered Poe Dameron and Oscar Issac and my life became a mess. Also I blame love @laneygthememequeen for doing nothing but encouraging this relentlessly (and putting up with my shit about this fic for far too long). 

"What do you want, Dameron?"

You tried to sound annoyed. You did. An effort that was all too unfortunately wasted. Even as irritation dripped from your voice, injected into every iota of your tone, and placed front and center in your narrowed eyes and pursed lips. Even still, it wavered.

Because it was hard to be annoyed when Poe Dameron was standing before you, lips quirked in a pleading smile. As always.

"Come on sweetheart,” he tilts his head, you ignore the twinge in your heart at the term of endearment, “no need to give the cold shoulder-"

You scoff, choosing to focus on the task at hand of cleaning up the mess your quarters had become between double shifts at the medcenter, "I don't remember allowing you to call me 'sweetheart,'”

"Really, because I do?" He ran a hand through his curls, teeth grazing his lip, looking all too pleased with himself, "when you asked me out."

You scoff, refusing to acknowledge your traitorous cheeks, "That was at least 17 years ago. Pretty sure the expiration date on that offer ended almost two decades ago."

Another life within itself. A small deviation in a steady routine of friendship - one that you had sworn to never repeat.

"Look," the resignation in his voice only made you feel worse, made more so by his furrowed brow and twisting frown, "I need your help."

"How many times have you said that sentence to me?" Too many. You say it so easily, too playful that it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, despite it dancing across your tongue - already far too caught up in the familiar rhythm of the banter, and you knew he felt it too - by the smile that blooms on his lips.

"And how many times did you end up helping me?" He rolls his eyes, lips curled all too knowingly, as he leans against your doorframe again, "I know you put up a front, but after all these years, you're not a mystery to me, sweetheart. I know you'll say yes. You always do."

You stop in your rifling, biting your lip. Back to him, guilt crawled up your gut, until it clawed at your mind. He was right - you did always help. And you hated yourself for it, shoving uniforms into a drawer, before nearly slamming it shut. No matter how strong you were, no matter how many people you saved, no matter how long it had been, you still had a weakness - and he was sitting right in front of you.

"Please?" He adds, and you turn, arms crossed and shoulders slumped.

"What is it?" you hate how your heart squeezes when he beams at you, grabbing your hand and pulling you out the door, "You still didn't tell me what it is-"

He had the gall to squeeze your hand, and throw a smile over his shoulder, "Does it matter?"

No, no it didn't.

Whatever stupid plan or boxed corner Poe Dameron had gotten himself into, he always found a way out - and usually you were there with him — unless he was in his x-wing.

When was it that you realized you were truly stuck with him? Was it when you both bonded over losing your parents? Had the traumatic experience adhered you to one another? Was it when you realized you the Resistance was all you both knew? And when you realized that maybe it was all you would ever know. Or maybe it was when you were fifteen and you were being dragged along, just like this, and you realized you never wanted to let go. And now, you realized you still didn’t.

You thought you were over this.

You thought you were finally over this after seeing women falling head over heels for him time and time again. That's when you had believed it had finally clicked that you needed to stop holding onto feelings that would never come true. But, what happens to feelings that you never admit? They linger and fester - and then they return, at moments like this - moments where his hand fits so perfectly in yours, the heat of his body crawling up your own, and his lips quirk beautifully into a smile that leaves your mind a mess.

Oh, your eyes flicker to the back of his head as you follow him out of the building, what have you gotten yourself into?

You were better than this - smarter than this. You were a medic - highly ranked, widely regarded. You had even begun to mentor other medics and guide through the same training you had sat through. You repeated these things like a mantra, as if it would snap you out of the hold that he’s unknowingly had you in all these years. But it didn't. You thought you were smart. And you were. But not when it came to Poe Dameron.

He pulls you outside towards the landing strip for the x-wings, "Is something wrong with your x-wing?" He doesn't answer — which is answer enough. You break his hold on you, rounding him, forcing him to stop dead in his tracks, "what did you do?"

He rubs the back of his head, "So I may or may not have been flying it when I wasn't supposed to," you sigh, head already throbbing at the prospect, "and I may have damaged it trying to pull off a maneuver I've been working on-"

"Dameron, who are you trying to impress that you already haven't?" He flinches, and you know you hit the nail on the head. Ignoring the twinge of jealousy in your chest, you continue, "Everyone knows that you're the best pilot we got. Why don't you enjoy it and not endanger yourself and the ship?" Finally you find yourself at his x-wing.

"Seems like you care more about the ship than me," he grumbles, muttering something else you don't quite hear, but you slide right past it.

"Can you blame me?” you add, “Plus I would have taken care of your injuries by now," Crossing your arms, walking around the ship, "you're the one damaging the poor thing."

He snorts, "You act as if it has feelings,"

You raise a brow, "And you don't?" You bite back the smile at his silence, instead examining the outside of the ship, taking stock of any visible damage, "Why didn't you have your mechanic do this?"

"Because she would kill me,"

You snort, "And I won't?"

"You're a medic, what happened to do no harm?" You glower at him, and the corner of his mouth quirks, "Plus, come on, we both know you're stuck with me for life."

No, no dwelling on his comment, "And how about BB-8?"

He sighs, "Little buddy is tired after our last mission-"

"He is literally a robot,"

"Droid,” he corrected, “Pretty sure calling them robots is a little insensitive," he tilts his head, as if your tone finally seems register. He adjusts the sleeves of his shirt, unfairly rolled up to expose his forearms, "do you have a problem doing this?"

You keep your expression perfectly neutral, irritation ebbing away to regret.

No, and that was the exact problem.

Poe came and went from your life in waves. Missions would keep him busy, General Organa kept him busy. The First Order saw him more than you did. And it wasn't like you weren't busy yourself. And sometimes, always right when you're ready to put him in your past - the water finally recedes — but then he appears, and another wave breaks the shore. And you are stuck falling back into old patterns.

But you can’t tell him that. So you tell him half-truths, and hope he doesn’t see that it’s borne of half a lie.

You shake your head, popping the paneling open to examine some of the wiring, "Of course not, but I'm far from an expert. I only started learning from Wren how to repair these things, and I still have a long way-"

He steps up beside you to watch, his voice murmuring beside you, A long way to go for you means a hell of a lot better than most experts."

"I just want you safe, Dameron," you admit, suppressing a shiver at his voice in your ear, "and I want you to run tests with Wren after I'm done."

"I will, but I trust you," he adds, voice soft, "I trust you with my life."

You look up from the circuits instinctively, finding yourself much closer to his face than you thought you were. Noses practically brushing, you only see him, as always. You see the stray curls falling in his face as he stares at you, and you hope he couldn't hear the hitch of your breath. And did you imagine his eyes flickering from your gaze to your lips; and his lips, the sly grin falling from his features into something - something unreadable.

"You would?"

He chuckles and you swear you can feel the rumble of his chest, "I already have. And I always will."

"Always is a long promise to keep," you breathe back, and he smiles.

"Well for you, sweetheart, I have no doubt I can keep it," his fingers brush your cheek, and you hold your breath, eyes fluttering shut until -

BEEP.

BB-8 sends you two jumping apart.

Your heart in your throat and blood roaring in your ears - you don't have time to process what just happened. You shove it down, down to the place where all your feelings about Poe went. Untouched, but unforgotten.

Instead, you whip your head back to the circuits, trying to ignore both the burn of your cheeks and the burning linger of Poe’s gaze, "Hey little guy, long time no see," he beeps at you, "yeah I'm just looking over the circuits."

You glance at Poe, and see his mouth open and shut, before seemingly plastering on an easy smile, "Isn't she the best?" He kneels to talk to BB-8.

You preen at the sound of his compliment, despite your best efforts, Poe continues to explain to BB, "she's learning from Wren."

He chirps again, and Poe's brow does furrow this time, "He's right, why are you learning about mechanics? Don't you usually have a shift at the hospital now?"

And here is the other reason you didn't want to see him.  

---------

"Stop," you follow after Poe as he walks away from the ship, "Poe, just talk to me."

He pauses a moment, but then strides forward with a second wind, until you catch him by the arm, "I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd react this way-"

He scoffs, he whips his arm away, as if your touch burned, as if it disgusted him - and you didn’t know which was worse, "How would you know my reaction? You don't even trust me enough to me that you are leaving the medcenter to become a mechanic?"

"I haven't left yet," you say lamely, and he shakes his head, walking off in a huff.

But suddenly, he whirls on you, fists clenched, "And you made this decision when?"

You pause, biting your lip, "A month ago,"

"A month?" He repeats, eyes hard, before turning on his heel again.

"Poe, I wanted to tell you,"

He scoffs, laced with sarcasm, "Obviously," he faces you again, lips twisted in frown, "You know I know we haven't seen each other lately, but I didn't think we stopped being friends. I pushed you to do this because I missed you," his words are so achingly true, red hot coal being dragged across an open wound, “but I see that you didn’t.”

Your chest aches, and you reach for him, so desperate for the touch you wanted nothing to do with earlier, tears stabbing at the corners of your eyes, "We didn't stop being friends," he doesn't listen, only turning to leave, "Poe, we didn't. I'm sorry."

"Then why?" His gaze towards the sky, arms crossed. And no words come to mind - and your wordless reply makes him begin to walk away again. Only at the sight of his retreating back do you find them, shaking free from the place you had shoved down.

"I didn't want to tell you I was breaking our promise!”

He stops in his tracks, "What are you talking about?"

It’s your turn to scoff, "You remember that I told you I liked you once, but you don't remember the promise we made to each other to follow our dreams?"

A hint of red in his cheeks, he doubles down on his scowl, "I remember the promise, but I meant what does that have to do with this?"

"Poe, you promised to be a pilot, and I promised to be a medic - that we were going to commit ourselves to the same cause our parents did. We were going to save people, together," his expression softens, "We did, and I did. And I was damn good at it — I am damn good at it," you see the corner of his mouth tug, "but I'm not good enough."

His brow furrows, "Wh-"

"I can't save everyone, and I know I can't. But I’ve watched the blood drain their complexion one too many times. I’ve seen their last breath exhale from their throat, their chest rise and fall for the last time,” you take a steadying breath, “I've seen people I couldn't do anything for, and I've seen people I could do something for, but I wasn't fast enough," you swallow lump in your throat,  "it eats away at you. It was consuming me.”

His shoulders sag, "Sweetheart-"

"So, when I decided to go back on that...it was hard," you rubbed at your arms, a cool breeze sending a shiver up your body, "and it was even harder to tell you I was leaving, so I didn't."

"It's okay if your dreams change. It's okay if this isn't what you want to do," he says, finding his way back to your side, but he sees your hesitation - the same you desperately didn't want to admit, “this is what you want, right?”

And there is the other reason you didn’t want to tell him - he always could see right through you, charting a course through your expression to your feelings, even when you didn’t want to admit them. To the fear you had kept - the one you kept even from yourself.

“It’s what I need to do,” you admit, and to your surprise, he doesn’t push it any further, instead he only pouts.

"I just hate that you didn't tell me,” he sighs, shoulders sagging.

You sigh, muttering all too loudly, “There’s a lot I don’t tell you,” before you can catch yourself, and you swear under your breath.

His head snaps up, “What do you mean by that?”

You hesitate, “Nothing,”

He lifts a finger, “You’re hiding something. Badly. You’ve never been a good liar,” he slowly moves closer to you as you back away in tandem, “I’ve known you my whole life, I know when you’re hiding something, and if you don’t tell me what it is,” he steps closer, and closer, until your back is to an x-wing, “I’ll just figure it out.”

You stare up into his face - his eyes, his lips, everything far too close. You brush past him, shaking your head, flexing your fingers, "I'm sorry, I—” you cut yourself off, "I just need to go.”

He catches you by the hand, pulling you back to him, bumping against his chest, "No," and you feel his answer rumble against you.

Your cheeks flare, "What do you mean no?"

"I mean, tell me what you mean," he says, eyes narrowed, "no more lying, no more hiding. Tell me."

"You- I-" No excuses come to mind, instead all that is left burning on your tongue is the truth - and you can’t tell him the truth. You can’t. But his eyes bore into you, until you cover your face with your hands, "I just, just let me go, Dameron,"

He eases your hands from your face, "Do you still have a crush on me, sweetheart?"

Your expression gives away your answer and you know it. And even if it didn't, your hesitation surely did. Hesitation was the mother of truth. And you sit in the silence of it all - much like the embarrassment and fear on your throat, your heart fallen to the center of D’qar by now. "I-"

"Because I have one on you," he says softly, and you blink. A moment passes, and another. And still you don’t believe what you’ve heard. You only stare, as if waiting to wake from this dream. To awake in your bed alone, and utterly disappointed and embarrassed, like you were a moment ago. But it never comes.

And the only coherent reply that finds its way out of your mouth is a word, "When?"

It was his turn to hesitate, "When we were 15, maybe even before then. I just couldn't admit it to you. I don't think I could admit to myself," he shakes his head, before rubbing his forehead,

“Why? Why not when-”

“When you told me how you felt - it scared me,” Poe takes your hand carefully, fingers carefully intertwined as if you would disappear under his touch, “I thought I admitted I loved you back - I would lose you, like my parents,” he shakes his head,  “It was stupid-”

“It’s not stupid,” you whisper, and he offers a weak smile.

"I didn't want to lose you,” he says, adding, “I still don’t.”

"Poe," his thumb brushes your cheek, "you never could have lost me."

He smiles, "I know, you are stuck with me after all,"

"Did you ever plan to tell me?" You asked, and his cheeks flush.

He clears his throat, "you know how we talked about the someone I was trying to impress?"

"Yeah?" He stares, "and?"

He groans, crossing his arms, "Do I need to spell out for you?" Oh. Oh.

"You think damaging your ship is going to impress me?" You grin when his lips form a pout, before it slips into a devious smirk, as he draws far too close to you for you to be able to think.

"Got me this far right?" And a shiver goes down your spine, his breath hot against your lips, he brushes your hair behind your ear, "okay, one last confession, the promise we made about dreams?"

"Yeah, you mean the one I brought up about two minutes ago?" He bites his lip, sighing, throwing back his head, only to drag a hand down his face.

“You are not making this any easier,” he mutters, "Okay, well we never said what our dreams were, you assumed I was talking about being a pilot.”

You tilt your head, “But you’re a pilot,”

He laughs, shaking his head, “Yeah I am, but what I'm trying to say is," he tilts your chin up, "you were my dream," your breath catches in your throat, only the feeling of his own breath against your lips reminding you to do the same, "and I don't think that's ever going to change."

You didn't realize you were crying until his fingers brush a tear away, "You could have just said you don't feel the same," he teases, but apprehension still creeps in his voice, and his tone falters, "you don't have to respond-"

You pull him to you, arms wrapped around his shoulders, burying yourself in his chest, "You were a dream I didn't know I could have," and lean back to look up at him, eyes shining, "but now that I know I don’t think I’ll ever let you go."

"You better not," his calloused fingers trace the length of your cheek, rounding your ear down to the nape of your neck, until his fingers settle on your chin. Tilting you up to meet his gaze, and his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips. You shiver as he leans down, whispering, "Can I kiss you?"

You answer by pressing your lips to his - it was chaste, but you feel him smile against you, as you lean away. But he chases your lips, this time intent on making good on your promise of never letting go.

All you feel is him. He cups your face in his hands, and you know he has you in the palm of his hands - and for once you're not scared. Not by his large hands slipping down the length of your body, nor the hot, open mouthed kisses he left on your neck, and not by the guttural growl in his throat when you use his shirt to tug him closer to you.  

"I've wanted this for so long," he sighs, and you take advantage to press a kiss to his neck. He was practically panting now, lips and tongue skimming his neck, before closing around his pulse point, pulling a ragged grown from his mouth, "you don't know what you do to me, sweetheart."

You kiss the bruise you leave, "Tell me,"

"I can't," defiance evident in his tone, as you frown against his neck, until he leans back, chest heaving, "because I wouldn't know what to do with myself. Or with you."

The rasp of his voice makes you shiver, "I think I like the sound of that,"

Eyes dark, he raises a brow, "Not unless you'd prefer to do this with an audience,"

You kiss him, his teeth grazing your lips, "I don't wanna to share you."

"Good," he grins, "because neither do I."

~~~

“Are you going to sleep standing up, or are you going to join me?” Poe sat on the edge of his bed, freshly out of the refresher. Even after wiping his hair with a towel, you could see his curls were damp, water dripping down, slipping down beneath his sleep shirt.

You fidget, “I’m going to join you, I’m just...taking my time.”

You can tell he’s biting back a grin, instead, getting up from the bed, “You know nothing is going to happen tonight, right?” You cannot meet his eyes, cheeks inevitably burning at the thought, “nothing you don’t want to happen.”

“I know,” you mumble.

“Can I remind you that we’ve slept in the same bed before?” he reaches for your hands, waiting for you to take them, before enveloping them.

“Can I remind you that it was my bed and we were kids?” you smile at him, “you never did tell me why you couldn’t sleep that night.”

“Nightmare,” he sighs, dragging a hand through his wet curls, water flicking onto the bed,  “It happened a lot back then.”

You squeeze his hands, “And now?”

He offers you a smile, “Well I have you to chase away nightmares, don’t I?” he presses a kiss to your forehead, “even if you want to go back to your own room.”

You look up at him, and your breath is knocked out of your lungs at just how painfully beautiful he is, inside and out. How gentle he is, despite his upbringing. How sweet he is, despite all of the carnage he has lived through. How willing he is to open his heart up to you, despite it being broken far too many times.

“No, let’s go to bed,” you tug him toward the bed, and the two of you crawl in beside each other, and it seems like the exhaustion hits you at once - it had been a long day far before Poe came to see you. And now - as he pulls you to rest against his chest, it felt like a different lifetime. Your eyes are heavy, shutting right away, the safety of his warmth sending you into the throes of sleep deeper than any sandman could, but still you fight it for a moment - peering up at him, only to find him staring.

“Staring isn’t sleeping,” you murmur, and his lips curl in a lazy smile, “is something wrong?”

“No,” he presses a kiss to your temple, “something finally feels right.”

~~~

Your eyes flutter open, and you’re alone - blinking. And you sigh, thumping your head against the pillow - a dream, it was just a dream. You didn’t know what hurt more after you woke up - the memory of the dream itself or the fact it wasn’t real.

You roll over and spot a note on the night table - and then your eyes flit to Poe’s still damp towel. You sit up, reaching for the note.

Sweetheart,

Was called away for a mission briefing. You can shower here or you can go back to your room. I’ll come find you after.

I know how much you hate to share me, but I’ll be back soon.

Poe

You couldn’t suppress the stupid smile on your lips. Face hot - you held the note to your chest, clutching it as if you were afraid it may disappear. It was real, it wasn’t a dream. You shook your head, biting your lip in an attempt to stop smiling.

You didn’t.

You took him up on his offer to shower at his place. Running your fingers through your hair, you recounted last night in your head. His hands. His lips. Poe. You covered your face, cheeks burning. Even his name just made you a mess - even more than usual. But his words were the things that rang in your ears - repeating on a loop like an earworm you never wanted to get rid of.

Shutting the water off, you started to pull your clothes on, but you realized your significant lack of a towel and your dripping wet hair. You peeked out of the bathroom, finding the bed just as you had left it, and you stepped out, grabbing the towel Poe had used last night.

“I don’t think you expected me back so soon,” you jump, whirling to see Poe on the other side of the room, just out of view. Clearing his throat, he averted his gaze, “Uh, find what you were looking for?”

You nod, flying back into the refresher, back pressed against the door. You pressed the towel to your heated face, shit. You shook off the slight mortification, slowly finishing getting dressed.

You stepped out, finding him sitting on the bed, flipping through a book, “I’m dressed,” you announced lamely.

He grinned at you, “I can see - I don’t know which I like better - dressed or undressed,”

A flush inches up your neck, “Dameron, you’re already on thin ice,”

“I wasn’t the one who walked out of your refresher in my underwear,” you gaped at him, who looked all too pleased at your reaction, before he smiles, “you know you’re beautiful, right?” You averted your gaze, and he grabbed your hand, tugging you gently onto the bed beside him. You bit your lip, “Because you are.”

“Really?” his brow furrows, and he rolls his eyes dramatically, before tilting his head.

“Want me to prove it?” he leans closer to you, lips quirking when he sees your breath hitch, and his hand slides closer to you, “Because I think I didn’t do a good enough job last night. And you know me,” he leans in and presses a kiss to your neck, “ever the perfectionist.”

“Poe,” he silences you with a sweet kiss on your lips, then your cheeks, then your forehead, and soon his lips are everywhere. His chest bumped against yours, firm arm wrapping around your waist only to pull you impossibly closer. Your teeth graze his bottom lip and you feel him groan, the rumble reverberating up and down your spine.

“Every inch of you,” his hands traveled down your sides, mapping you with the detail of a cartographer, wanting to know every peak and valley, “is beautiful. It was when we were ten and I found you covered in muck from when Nola dared you. When we were fifteen and you decided to confess to me, I never realized anyone could look at me like that, You were beautiful then, just like you are now,” He emphasizes each word with a kiss, “don’t forget that."

You press your forehead to his, “Will you remind me if I forget?”

He smiles, “Always.”

~~~

Your day goes by slowly -  And you know exactly why.

“Tonight,” Poe says, as he walks you to your pod so you can change before your shift at the infirmary, “let’s go on a date.”

“You want to take me on a date, Dameron?” he rolls his eyes.

“Is that your attempt at teasing? Because you and me both know you can do better than that.”

“Fine, let’s go,” you say, “after my shift.”

He scratches his cheek, “No questions?”

“No questions, except one,” you add, arriving right outside the medcenter, you whisper in his ear, “What are the chances that I’ll get to see you without your clothes tonight?”

Poe blinks, opening and closing his mouth. You grin as you begin to step away, but he catches you by your hand, voice low, “Very likely,” he says, stealing your breath away with a kiss, “and if I didn’t have any self-control, it would be against this wall.” You stare at him, a thick heat settling over the two of you, until he walks away, letting go of your hand with reluctance and a smile, “But luckily I do.”

You should have known better than to tease him, because now it left you in this predicament: watching the minutes crawl by. Only two hours left.

You made your rounds, tending to the new injured that came in. You sighed at the state of the injuries, most of them from x-wing crashes. Mangled and broken limbs, twisted black and blue or each time split in ways you hadn’t seen before; others were less lucky - damaged organs, first degree burns, and even a woman who lost her leg.

Your team had managed to stabilize her, but she still hadn’t woken up from the sedatives you had given her. Rhea. An x-wing pilot. You didn’t know her personally, but she had crossed paths with you in the hospital before. Always smiling, always kind, always without a harsh word. And now you had to tell her she lost her leg.

Fucking First Order.

They had been attacking more aggressively over the last few weeks - the higher ups were trying to keep it quiet, but you knew by the amount of troops they were having to send out and how many of them they brought back broken, in more than one way.

You shook yourself from your thoughts, rounding the corner to check on the patient submerged in a bacta tank. When they had first brought this patient in, most of his skin was bruised, battered, and broken, but now, most of his wounds had healed. You flipped through the chart - another x-wing crash caused by enemy cannons. You looked up at the tank, and you saw Poe floating.

You blinked and it was your patient again.

“WE NEED A MEDIC!” A crash rings out across the floor, and you nearly drop your clipboard running to the commotion, and you knew exactly which patient it was -

“Rhea,” Her hands grasped at her blanket, trying to reach for her leg, the one that was no longer there. The lamp at her bedside had been knocked down. You turned to the terrified trainee, “What’s going on?”

“She just woke up, drowsy. She said her leg was itching, I was about to call someone when she started to yell it was hurting, and then she must have knocked down the lamp,” you told them to call another medic, and you turned to Rhea.

“Rhea,” you said softly, “are you okay?”

She looked up, eyes watery,  “Where am I?”

“You’re in the infirmary,” you remind her of who you are, “Do you remember me?” she nodded slowly, “Let me check your vitals, okay?”

She let you touch her as you ran through the basic check, finally stepping back from her, setting down your clipboard, as you waved to the other medic to hang back, “You were in an accident, Rhea, in your x-wing, do you remember?”

Her brow furrowed, she held her head, “Everything is fuzzy, my head is killing me,” eyes squeezing shut, “I was pinned down, trying to destroy some TIE fighters on our tail, I got three, and I-” her voice broke, “I don’t remember anything after that.”

“It’s okay, it’s-”

“Why is my leg hurting? What happened to me?” you swallowed the lump in your throat, steadying your voice.

“I need you to lie down first, okay?” She did as you said, “Like I said there was an accident and-” she suddenly started to convulse, her eyes rolled back.

“Prep a scan and an OR,” you looked up at the other medic, “GO! Now.”

Wheeling her into the OR, you don’t think of Poe or the time, only that you weren’t going to lose this patient - you weren’t going to lose Rhea.

~~~

It takes hours.

But you find the cause. A clot in her brain that nearly killed her. Was it luck that she woke up before it killed her? Was it luck that you were talking to her when it happened? A second later and - you pry your gloves off, washing your hands as you've done a million times after surgery. But a part of you relished in it - you had saved her, she was going to be okay, or at least, she was alive. And that had to be enough, didn’t it?

Otherwise, you thought, how would any of us go on living through this?

Right now, all that mattered to you was getting home, getting in the refresher, and seeing Poe-

And then it occurs to you.

Shit. What time is it?

You are laughably late. So you do the only thing you can do - you run. Stuffing a change of clothes into your bag, you sprint out the door. A voice stops you in your tracks right past the entrance.

"I was wondering if I would have to admit myself as a patient to get your attention,” Poe stood, leaning against the wall, smiling, “maybe sleep out here.”

"Maybe I should have taken a little longer then," you can't help but smile back, as you walk toward him, panic a distant memory as he walks toward you, "Dameron sleeping on the ground? The scandal."

"Yes, idiot pilot in love with a chronically late medic," he presses a kiss to your forehead before you can reply, mind utterly shell-shocked at his words.

"You love me?" You blink, and there's a terrible moment where he pauses and your heart sinks, "I mean, I understand if you just said it in the moment, I-"

You look up to see him biting back a smile. You glare at him, "Poe,"

He laughs, "Sorry I wanted to see how long you would go,"

"On second thought, maybe I'm too tired for this date," but it's too late, his arms are curled around your waist, your back now pressed to the medcenter’s wall, trapping you in his embrace, lips murmuring in your ear.

"Of course, I love you, sweetheart," he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, "I don't remember a time when I didn’t."

You swallow your tears, instead turning to kiss him, and forgetting everything else, "What a coincidence," you manage, foreheads brushing, "neither can I."

~~~

Your stomach had surely twisted itself into knots by the time you arrived at Poe’s door. Something you would have to untangle before he got the food ready. But right now, it feels like you can barely sort through your thoughts. A blankness had overtaken your mind, but even still you could feel the cortisone churn through your body - a dull ache settling over you.

You don't know if it's from the day you had or the nervous energy that buzzes through you. With rationing, there wasn't much choice or variety, but all the same you were just grateful to eat  Poe raises a brow and smiles at the loud rumble of your stomach, before placing a plate down in front of you and another for him. It had been a good twelve hours since you last ate.

You devour the food, only to look up and find Poe's food untouched, his eyes on you instead of his plate. His eyes were distant, placid, but still turbulent, as if he was darting through a storm in an x-wing: focused but afraid.

"Aren't you hungry?" He blinks, as if he's been broken from a trance and looks down at his full plate, "Dameron, what's going on?"

He picks at his food half-heartedly, "I am not supposed to tell you this, but," he sighs, shaking his head, "the briefing I was called away for - I’m leaving tomorrow.”

He swallows, forcing a small smile on his lips, “The mission they are sending me on, it's potentially-" he cuts himself off, clearing his throat, "it is dangerous. We are making big moves against the First Order, we discovered something that could finally give us a leg up-"

His explanation is drowned out by a ringing in your ears, as you watch his lips move, but you hear none of it. The same numbness overtakes your senses now - a void that narrows your focus to a pinprick.

And now all you can see is Poe. But not the one in front of you. Instead, his eyes are shut. His chest no longer rises nor fall. He can't smile. He can't laugh. Not when he's on an operating table. Not when he can't breathe anymore. Not when you couldn't save him. Scarlet coats your fingers, utensils now surgical tools. You weren't good enough. You were too late. You were too late.

You drop your fork against the plate, harshly clattering onto the table. He breaks off mid sentence, as you get up from the table, “I’m sorry, I-” you shake your head, holding up your hands, “I can’t do this.”

He frowns, setting down his fork, “I can tell you about the mission, sweetheart, no one will be put in danger-”

“No,” you cross your arms, looking at the floor, “that’s not what I mean.”

The words nearly die in your throat, and what’s left is a long silence -  one that’s no worse than the storm that follows it, “Why?”

And no worse when you have to explain why you’re causing it, “If you get hurt," your voice wavers at the thought, "if something happens to you, this will just make it worse. If we do this, I don’t know how I would live without you."

"Sweetheart-"

"Don't call me that," the hurt on his face seized at your heartstrings, pulling until your heart was in shreds. Something in him had broken. And you had done the breaking.

You walk towards the door, “Please, don’t run away from this, from me,” he cuts you off, your small window of escape snapped shut, “What are you so scared of?”

“I’m not scared,” you say through gritted teeth, frustration mixed with melancholy,  “I’m being realistic, I can’t- We can’t.”

“You’re running away, what do you call that? That isn’t realistic,” he snaps, jaw set, “That’s fear, you know what’s realistic? War," he says, tone as deadly as it's meaning, "This is a war, people are going to die. Like our parents did. I may die, but so can you. It can't dictate your life."

Anger flares in your chest, "I'm not letting it-"

"What do you call leaving your job? What do you call this?" He gestures between the two of you, running a hand through his hair, "why? Why are you letting it control you?"

"Because I can't lose another person, I can't sit back and watch you die. I can't watch you come back in pieces, and not be able to put you back together again," your hands shake, but you fold your arms, hoping it would be enough to hold you together, "and if that means it controls me, then it does."

His silence was suffocating, "Do you want me to stop being a pilot?' he says quietly, "is that what it will take?"

Hot tears well in your eyes, stinging, but not as much his words did, "I can't take away your dream," He smiles ruefully.

"But you already are."

You lean over, to press a kiss to his cheek - the last remnant you'll allow yourself of this dream - but he turns and your lips meet. You don't try to pull away. He kisses you, tenderly. Intent on keeping you here, stumbling away from the door. His fingers fist in your hair, tongue in your mouth. Your hand slips over his chest, fisting in his shirt, and you remember you are supposed to be leaving.

But his lips move to your neck, and you forget how to breath, much less move.

You give into it. Because it's easier. It's easier to focus on the feeling of him; of his hands gripping your hips, pulling you onto the couch and then onto his lap; of the stifled moan against your lips when you bite his lip; and it makes it easier to say yes when he asks:

"Please just stay the night," he asks, hopelessly breathless, but still his lips are all over you, tracing the length of your collarbone, "and then when I come back, we can act as if this never happened."

"Poe-"

He leans away, "I will never force you to stay, and if you need to go, go," he licks his lips, looking at you with so much love - and you wonder how blind you must have been to have never seen before, to have wasted so much time, "but if you want this too-"

You don't let him finish, instead you grip his shoulders, pulling him into another kiss.  

And that's all the answer either of you need.

Then, you’re under him. Back pressed against the armrest of the couch, as you fall backwards against the plush cushions, but he is there to catch you. You found the same hands that held you when you lost your parents cupping your face to press breathless kisses to your lips; the same hands, the ones pulled you to so many places you never thought you would reach, playing with the ends of your shirt asking for permission before pulling it off; and the same hands, the calloused and gentle fingers that had always held your heart, now grasped at your thighs, lifting you up from the couch and carrying you to the bed.

He placed you softly on the bed, and he crawled on top of you, fingers tracing your cheek, smiling, "Poe-"

He shakes his head, "I don't know how anyone can be this beautiful," he chuckles, thumb dragging over your lips, and your lips caught it, "sweetheart." He shudders under your touch, a rumble in his chest, "what are you doing to me?"

You tug at his shirt now, over his head and onto the floor with ease. Your hands explored the exposed skin far more than you explored any planet or galaxy - with reverence. You kissed every scar you could spot, gasping as his hands squeezed your breasts. Defenses down, he attacked, catching your eyes as his fingers ghosted your bra. He unhooked it, and you felt yourself waver under his gaze.

"Fuck," he murmured, and you arched into his touch as his lips pressed a constallation of kisses along your chest, his warm breath fanning across your skin, but denying his touch to the places that ached for it the most.

“Poe,” you sighed, and he smiled up at you, “don’t tease me.”

“How can I not?” his deep chuckle rumbles against your body and sends a shiver up your spine, as his eyes grew sad, “when it might be my last time?”

You waver, “I-” any reply is cut off as his mouth descends on one of your peaks, and he forces a moan from your lips, “fuck,” his other hand makes itself known, pinching and kneading, alighting each one under his diligent touch, and you feel him smirk against your skin.

Your fingers find his hair, weaving through his curls, pulling when he chooses that moment he chose to squeeze particularly hard. His low groan only adds to the sensation, and you can’t stand it anymore.

You pull him to your lips, tongue sliding into his mouth, before flipping him so that he’s under you. You rise, ridding yourself of your pants, any shyness lost obliterated under his steady gaze.

His hands reach for his own pants, but you stop him, "Let me," he blinks, before leaning back on his elbows and watching you through lidded eyes. You undo his belt, and then the button, before sliding them off. You find Poe’s lips again, easily and effortlessly - the exact opposite of your entire relationship.

Or maybe it wasn’t.

Your legs on either side of his hips, you straddled him, and he hissed.

“Already this wet for me?” he gasped as you ground against him, smirking as his hands fist in the sheets that certainly did not go unnoticed, “now that’s just cruel.”

“You’re not the only one who can tease, Dameron,” your hands trail delicately down his body, your lips choosing to busy themselves with memorizing every scar, every blemish - everything beautiful about this man who was only made more perfect by his imperfections.

He squirms under your touch, desperate, he growls your name, “please, give me somet-” he moans, when your fingers brush against his cock through his boxers, before dipping your fingers underneath the elastic. But too soon, your hands withdraw, running the length of his thighs, until -

You’re underneath him again, his lips worshipping again with renewed passion. Panting and cheeks red, he stares down at you reverently, “I can’t let this night end early, sweetheart,” he presses a kiss to your lips, your neck, your breasts, kissing his way down your body, perched before your lower lips, “not before I taste you.”

You moan at his words, finding him searching for your okay before proceeding, “Poe, please,”

Sliding your underwear off, he groans at the sight of you, "Fuck," and your thighs attempt to squeeze shut, "let me look at you,' he breathes gently, pressing a kiss to your thigh. Cheeks hot, you ease your legs apart, and his lips draw closer and closer to your center, until he kisses it, his stubble rubbing against your thighs. He inhales, pinning your thighs in place as they tense under his attention.

You shiver, pleasure traveling up and down your body in larger and larger waves. He starts slow. A small kiss, allowing himself a taste. And then his tongue brushes you, tracing over your soaked core. His hands hold your thighs apart, as his tongue licks a stripe up. You feel him grin against you at your whimper, rewarding you with another kiss. Your mouth opens to protest, when he finally parts your folds, tongue slipping in. Your fingers finding purchase in his curls. You moan his name, loudly, as he worships you. He groans in tandem against you, when your fingers pull at his hair.

"Poe," he moves faster, your walls contracting around his tongue, working in circles, "I think i'm-"

He places his lips on your clit and sucks harshly, and that's the breaking point. You come undone with his name on your lips. He teases you through your orgasm, holding you as you come down from the high, his tongue lapping at your essence, making your muscles twitch in response. You finally lift your head to see him, and you bite back a groan, his face coated in your release.

“I think I'm addicted," he murmurs, his tongue darting out to clean his face of your release. Your head rests against the pillow, as he winds his way up your body, fingers tilting your face so he could look at you come down. Your eyes flutter open and you find him smiling at you, and you move to cover your face, but he’s faster, gently prying your hands away, “Did you forget again?” He asks, echoing his words from before.

“Maybe,” you mumble, and he cups your face.

“Should I remind you?” he presses lazy kisses to your face, his curls tickling your nose, “What do you want, baby?” You feel his fingers skim against your clit, and you arch into his touch, “tell me.”

“I want you,” you say, and he laughs.

“You already have me,” he says, as you reach over, dipping your fingers into his boxers, pulling them down for him to kick off, “but you can’t get enough me, can you?”

Any sarcasm dies in your throat when you see his earnest smile, “Is it that obvious?”

He kisses you again, deeper this time, slower, “Only because it’s me, and only because I feel the same way,” he whispers against your lips, and you pull him down to you again, as he positions himself over you, swallowing your moan when you feel him brush against you. You arch your hips, one arm around his middle, the other fisted in his curls  - anything to feel closer to him.

But still, he breaks away, pressing his forehead to yours, "Are you sure?" And you smile, reaching up to cup his cheek. He is the same boy you fell in love with, isn't he? The same one who could always make you laugh; the same one who could convince you to take a risk, the same one who held your hand when you lost your parents in a raid, the same one who allowed you to be brave, and the one you were too scared to lose.

"Poe, I've never been more sure of anything," and your hands wrap around his neck to pull him down to kiss you, and he pushes into you.

"Fuck, you're wet for me," he groans against your lips, as his hand caresses your cheek, "and tight." He waits for you to adjust, pressing kisses everywhere to distract you from the discomfort.

"Poe," you whisper, and he nods, beginning to thrust into you. You can't get enough of him, even now, your hands wander before settling on shoulders, "Fuck, harder, please."

He does as you say, thrusting harder, as he buries his head in the nape of your neck, pressing open mouthed kisses to your skin, "You don't know how long I've wanted this - wanted you," he says against you, and you moan, "to know what it's like to kiss you, to feel you, but now," he swears as you thrust back against him, sinking deeper into you, "I don't know how I'm going to live with knowing."

“Neither do I,” you kiss him again, forcing him to swallow your words, and the regret you had along with it.

He leans back to look at you, eyes fluttering shut, his thrusts grow more urgent, the slick noise of him moving in and out growing louder and louder. And you feel yourself growing closer and closer, towards that peak, "I love you," you whisper, pressing another kiss to his lips, before you orgasm, your walls tightening around him.

He follows right after a few thrusts, carrying you over that peak, before spilling inside you with a groan of your name. You feel his release leak out of you, and he rests against you, fingers ghosting up and down your hips, panting in your ear. Your lips meet lazily again, and you rest your forehead against his again, enjoying how his breath feels against your skin.

He stays inside you for a moment, before finally beginning to move away, but he pauses, only staring.

“Poe?”

He shakes his head, pressing a last kiss to your lips.  "I love you too,” his fingers fall from your face, “and I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

You look at him wordless, and he spares you the agony of replying, instead shifting to lie down beside you. You follow suit, his arm curled around you, as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling. And you affix this memory in your mind, and allow yourself the fantasy of the relationship for a moment - for beautiful mornings spent waking up beside each other, lazy afternoons spent laughing with the feeling of his lips against yours, and of quiet evenings, spent in each other’s arms.

You only reply when you know he’s asleep, comforted by his even breaths and quiet snores, “I know I’ll never stop.”

You fall asleep beside him, legs tangled in the blanket. You feel the rise and fall of his chest, and you tell yourself it's okay to love him, because he's safe. He's okay. But you know, as you lift your head to take one more look at him, tomorrow he won't be. Tomorrow, you can't love him. Not like this.  

~~~

He doesn't wake you before he goes.

You wake up in his bed, and you don't remember the last time you’ve felt this alone. This time there was no note, you think with a lump in your throat. There was no promise of a date. Instead, there was only a sinking feeling in your stomach, and your eyes burning with tears.

He would be back, you told yourself, wiping the tears from your cheeks, He would be back and everything would be okay again.

~~~

“Alright!” Poe jerks away from the guard’s grip, “alright!”

The guard doesn’t relent, still adjusting their hold on him, as Poe actually gets a look around. His mouth ajar, he saw flying ships, pods (like the one he came out of), and nothing but Stormtroopers everywhere, swarming like bees in their hives. It would have been impressive if it wasn’t so horrifying.

How did he end up here? Taken captive on Jakku, and BB-8 and some of the most valuable information in the galaxy left wandering.

Fuck.

The guard yanks on him again after a moment, and he is being ushered off somewhere - likely to get tortured, likely to be killed, but never - never, would he give anything up to them. He stares straight ahead, twisting in the cuffs they had on him. The same hands that had held yours not that long ago. His gut twists at the thought of you.

Sorry sweetheart, he thinks, I may not make it back to you after all.

He grits his teeth, But I sure may die trying to.

~~~

They torture him, of course.

Why wouldn’t they?

The first few beatings were something - warm blood dripping down the sides of his head, his shirt and stomach slick making the fabric cling to his wounds - but at some point, they just stopped being creative. It was the same thing over and over again, and at some point he stopped even dignifying them with so much as a grunt of acknowledgement. The best they could do was keep him awake until their fearless leader came - or so he heard one of the bucketheads whisper to the other when they thought he was knocked out.

But still, he thinks when the room is not empty of siths and he is left only with his thoughts, what that man had done to him earlier, his body locking up in place, an unfathomable power overcoming his own will, unable to do anything, but just watch a village get slaughtered. But it wasn’t unknown, was it?

And the whole room began to spin in that moment. He blinked, vision unbearably blurry, straining his eyes to see straight, but relented, shutting his eyes, resting his eyes for a moment. A small voice in the back of his thought, and what does that mean about what else he can do to you?

~~

He isn’t sure how long he’s asleep, but it’s enough time to dream of you.

He hadn’t gone on on his mission. You hadn’t decided to break things off. Instead, you both decided to spend the day together. He had woken up next to you, instead of pressing a kiss to your forehead before he left.

He could feel your fingers drawing mindless patterns against his thigh when he woke from a dreamless sleep and saw you beside him, “Good morning,” you whisper, adorably and painfully shy, even after all he had done to you last night, and after all you had done to him.

“It is, isn’t it?” he murmurs, unable to resist pulling you closer so he could rest his head right beneath your chin, “every other morning seems to pale in comparison.”

“I guess we’ll just have to make this a habit,” you hum, when he burns a path of kisses up your chest and across your shoulder, his need for you unyielding, “Poe, please.”

He chooses that moment to suck softly at your pulse point, “Hmm?” he mumbles against the sensitive skin, soothing it with his tongue, “You need something, sweetheart?”

You smile up at him, “I only need you.” You lean up to kiss him, and then suddenly it’s gone.

You’re gone.

Instead, he finds himself waking up to the sound of a voice he was dreading to hear. It takes him a moment to rouse himself, his head swimming as he forces himself to be alert.

“...the best pilot in the resistance on board,” he has to repress a snort, they tried torture and now were they going to try flattery? He forces himself to meet the Commander’s gaze, refusing to let his eyes water or his gaze waver even a moment. He would be damned if he chose to falter now - not to him, not any of the First Order. Even if it meant his life, “Comfortable?”

No shifting, no hesitance, no weakness, but an answer was required, “Not really,”

“I’m impressed,” he admits, whilst sounding not so impressed, stepping toward Poe, “No one has been able to get out of you what you did with the map.” He looms over him, as if that would intimidate him at this point.

He peers up at him, “You might want to rethink your technique,” and he wonders if he kept that mask on only to hide how his face twisted.

He lifts his hand, a dull throb starts in Poe’s head. It’s a low whine at first, kind of like when his ears popped after a spiral or all too sudden dip in his x-wing, but no, this was different. It was the same as before. He shifts in his restraints, feeling it crawl into every muscle, every bone, every crevice of his body, He tries to bite back the groan that claws its way up his throat, but he can’t - because he’s too busy trying to fight off this foreign invader. His body turned traitor, but this time - no, he thinks, a horrible revelation dawning on him, it was his mind too.

It throws his head backwards against the chair, his ears ringing and mind screaming for mercy.

The dull ache he felt now is a roaring storm, pushing up against the gates of his mind, ripping, scratching past every defense. But still he resists, swallowing any thought of giving in, steeling himself even as the pressure builds both in his mind and another on his throat, squeezing, only allowing him enough air to keep him breathing. Poe knew that he would be dead if that’s what the First Order wanted. But they didn’t want him dead, he strained against his grasp, helpless, no matter how much he wished they did now. It would be better to be dead than for them to find what they were looking for.

“Where is it?” He asks, and Poe feels every muscle in his body contract and ache against their imagined restraints and his very much real ones, the veins in his neck throb, another grunt falls from his lips as he feels the force push against his mind again and again and again.

But still he won’t give.

He thinks of Leia, of the Resistance, of his parents, of you.

“The Resistance…” he manages to whisper, “will not be intimidated by you.” His body arches forward, a new wave of pain washing over him, as he brings him forward in his restraints unnaturally.

“Where is it?” he repeats, and with his words, he feels another surge - this time bigger than all the others - he feels a crack in mind - one that the force wriggles its way into forcing it open. He screams, a guttural noise he didn’t know he could make. Even though he knows it’s helpless - that he’s helpless, he rails against it. But his body cannot.

The commander lowers his hand at once, and Poe’s body collapses against the chair, “Placing it in your BB unit, smart,” and Poe can imagine the bastard smiling underneath his helmet, “The First Order thanks you for your assistance.”

Poe cannot say anything - cannot summon even the strength to respond, he only watches him toward the door, allowing the guilt and shame to wash over him, before succumbing to the darkness that beckoned him to sleep.

~~~

He doesn’t dream of you this time.

Instead, he slips into a dreamless sleep. Minutes go by like hours, and by the time he’s forced to wake, he wonders how long he’s been captured for.

“Ren wants the prisoner,” he hears one stormtrooper order, and his restraints fly off. As he’s dragged down corridor after corridor, he wonders if there is any chance of escape. He’s not strapped to a chair, but he also has no gun, he has cuffs, and there are stormtroopers everywhere - including the one yanking him to wherever Ren wants him. Even now as he walks, he has to will himself to keep walking, and not simply collapse on the floor. He barely has the energy to spare a scowl at the stormtrooper. He wouldn’t give them the pleasure of seeing him fall.

But instead, he shoves him into a closet, “Listen carefully,” Poe stares at him, bewildered, “If you do exactly as I say, I could get you out of here.”

“What?” he didn’t know stormtroopers had a heart or a conscience - and that’s because largely they didn’t. That was stolen from them as children.

So, what was this? A trick or a farce?

When he pulls off his helmet, Poe believes it couldn’t be either - they never took off their helmets, “This is a rescue. I’m helping you escape. Can you fly a TIE fighter?”

He feels hope kick up in his chest, “You’re with the Resistance?”

“What? No, no, no, I’m breaking you out,” impatient and antsy, his eyes flickering to the hallway, “Can you fly a TIE fighter?”

The possibilities run through his head: he stays on his ship, he dies; he follows this stormtrooper, he’s lying, he dies; he follows this stormtrooper, he’s telling the truth, and they escape. Or they die.

“I can fly anything,” and he could, but still that nagging question still remained, “Why? Why are you helping me?”

He pauses for a half-second, “Because it’s the right thing to do,”

Bullshit, “You need a pilot.”

“I need a pilot,” he admits. And he was the only person who he could ask without risking immediately getting vaporized, or worse. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. He knew first-hand what they did to Resistance members, a chill went down his spine, who knows what they did to traitors.

Either way, he thought, lips curling, worked for him, as he long he could get off this deathtrap and back to BB-8. Nodding, “We’re gonna do this,” and he doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince - the trooper or himself.

“Yeah?” Maybe both, but he believed it regardless.

~~~

Poe has had a lot of stupid ideas over the years - and yet, he didn’t know what could top this one. Escaping in a TIE fighter off their base,  with a rebelling stormtrooper who didn’t know how to shoot.

No, he really couldn’t think of something worse.

But was it impossible?

No. He could fix this. Or that’s what he told the stormtrooper when they realized the TIE fighter was tied down to the bay.

Poe flicked switches, pressed buttons, brain on auto-pilot, as he ran through procedure to free this damn ship, and finally he almost was done, “I’ve got it,” he tells the trooper, who had been surprisingly holding his own with the blasters.

Free from their restraint, they zoom away from the maw of the monster, but they weren’t free of it's grasp yet. His eyes dart, spotting several cannons along the base. There was no way they would live more than a few seconds unless they destroyed those. He relayed this to the trooper who nodded, “All right, I’ll get into position, just stay sharp,” and he hoped he was as good as he sounded with those blasters.

Poe lines up the shot, heart in his throat, as the trooper shoots, and they land their mark, zooming through the wreckage without a hitch. A wave of exhilaration thrums through his body, even as lasers dart past them, he can’t help but celebrate, if only for a moment.

He was alive. And he was out. And he didn’t even know his partner in escape’s name, “Hey, what’s your name?”

“FN-2187,”

Poe looks back at him, “FN- what?” He was far too tired for this.

“That’s the only name they ever gave me,” Poe frowns. FN...whatever wasn’t much of a name - it was barely a code. It was just a way of distinguishing them - the stormtroopers weren’t their assets - they were expendable. And a number was another way they knew that.

“Well, I ain’t using it,” he decides, “F-N, huh? Finn. I’m gonna call you Finn. Is that alright?” he asks, sparing a glance behind him.

“Finn? Yeah, Finn, I like that,” Poe grins, turning back to the console. Well now that’s decided-

“I’m Poe. Poe Dameron,” but there isn’t much more time for pleasantries when there are missiles on their tail. Dodge left, dodge right, shoot one down, and another replaces it. They needed to go, and they needed to now.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going back to Jakku. That’s where,” the entire fate of the resistance was back there - and there was no way he was leaving it there.

“No, we can’t go back to Jakku. We need to get out of this system.” He grits his teeth, should he tell him? Tell him why BB-8’s important? Tell him the truth. It could risk the mission - it could risk the information.

“I gotta get my droid before the First Order does,” he ignores the twinge at the thought of Ren ripping the memory from his mind.

“What? A droid?” Finn repeats.

“That’s right. He’s a BB unit, orange and white, one of a kind.” He shouldn’t, he shouldn’t tell him - but he pushes any harder against it - he won’t have a choice.

“I don’t care what color he is. No droid can be that important,”

“This one is, pal!” he snaps. He has to tell him - he knows, but if there’s any chance on convincing him without compromising-

“We gotta get as far away from the First Order as we can. We go back to Jakku. We die.”

Fuck it, “That droid has a map that leads straight to Luke Skywalker.”

Poe barely hears Finn exclaim, “Oh you gotta be kidding me!” before a blast sends their ship into a spiral. They plummet towards Jakku, faster and faster - and Finn screams to deploy themselves from the ship, and he does so, shooting off and away from the ship.

He himself? He wasn’t so lucky. He flipped the ejection switch, but nothing, "Shit, are you serious?" He tugged at the mechanism only to find his jacket had jammed it. He slammed his hand against the console, squirming his way out of the jacket. He looked at the growing ever closer ground and took control again. Well, he said he could pilot anything.

Fingers flying, he works his magic, trying to soften the ship's crash as much as possible, "Come on, baby," darting around the controls as the ship was approaching the ground - he had a small window - two, maybe three seconds.

"3," he looked out the window, the planet barreling toward him, he thought of you, "2," he had made a promise to you to make it back, "1." And he was going to keep it.

He threw himself from the ship right before it crashed, propelling himself as far from the crash as possible.

~~~~

It had been over a week. And you couldn't shake the feeling something had horribly gone wrong. It was a constant pit in your stomach, a gut punch when you thought of the last night you spent with him - the moments spent with smiles and love, only to end up colored with bitter regret.

This was only made worse when you reached out to your contact in the upper aughts of the Resistance that he hadn't replied to any communications since landing at his destination.

And then you heard - the Resistance camp had been destroyed, everyone slaughtered, and there had been no sign of Poe. You heard while at work, and there was no day more excruciating, each word, every movement bespoke with the possibility of tears. But instead you held it, tightly wound in the trenches of your stomach, until you walked through the doors of your pod and collapsed in the middle of the floor.

You don't remember how long you cried. You didn't eat, didn't change - you just slept. And slept. And slept. He was dead. Or they were torturing him. And you didn't know which was worse. No, what was worse is that you were wrong and you were right - you were wrong that it would hurt less when it ended, because you knew it surely hurt more, and you were right - that he would come back to you in pieces. If he would come back at all.

The pit in your stomach twisted, much like the knife you had plunged into his heart had. And now every word you said seemed so foolish, every step you had taken to avoid this pain so pointless. It was the same pain in the end - the pain of breathing without a purpose, of living without a dream.

You nearly laughed, how couldn't you see that your dream was always him?

Hours passed, and you nearly missed your shift at the medcenter, but you didn’t. Always early for work, but late for everything else, Poe would tease you. You tried to convince yourself that he could be okay - he could be alive, but then you thought of the dead on Jakku. You heard whispers from the others at the center - not a single soul made it. Each one of them had been run through without a thought.

Had Poe? A small voice nagged at the back of your head. Stomach lurching, you sobbed alone in an empty patient room, until all the sadness had left, leaving only the hollowness it had carved behind. Empty.

Was he in pain? Was he lying somewhere, blood trickling from his body, motionless? Alone? You had trained your whole life to save lives, but you couldn’t save him. He always wa— is the bravest person, your fingers brush your lips, for better or worse. He wanted to save the entire galaxy - you glanced at your uniform - and maybe it was time that you stepped up and did the same. And, finally stopped running away from everything that frightened you. Because it was going to happen - whether you hid from it or faced it.  

"I want to rescind my resignation," you tell the chief medical officer, wringing your hands behind your back, her brow contorted in both exasperation and interest.

“You want to rescind your resignation on your last day with us?” her tone was far from the pleased tone you had foolishly had hoped for (but didn’t expect), her arms crossed tight across her chest, “You are one of our best medics, you have an impeccable record, and we would be glad to have you - but I thought you said this was not your calling any longer.”

"I did," you swallow the lump in your throat, "I will admit it was out of fear than anything else.”

“Fear?” her eyes sparked with disapproval.

“I had chosen to run away than towards my responsibilities - all the things we see," you suppress a shiver, "it was a lapse in judgement, one I won’t be repeating,” you add, steeling yourself for her rejection, “I understand if you can’t-”

“Your resignation is rescinded,” she cut you off, “You have done exceptional work, you’ve saved many lives, including Rhea’s - it was most impressive. Stars know we will be needing that help soon,” but her gaze hardens, “but the next time you resign, it will be final.”

“Thank you,” you gave a tight smile, relief flooding your chest and yet a thought nagged at your chest, “but why will we need that help soon? Is there another-”

She shook her head, “There are some things you are better off not knowing. Not yet. Not until we need to be ready."

You nod, wondering as you hear the whoosh of her door shut - how do you exactly prepare for war? Especially, you may have lost one of the reasons you were fighting for.

~~

He woke on a planet. Or that's what he realized when he felt the ground around him. Was he dead? No, no, he groaned, muscles screaming as he tried to turn onto his side. Your body didn't cry for death when you were already dead. His eyes watered, though he nearly did.

His ears were ringing.

Where was he? What was he doing? He couldn't remember anything - anything. Not what he was doing, not his job, not even his name. Nothing. Fear trills up his spine, heart pounding hard against his chest, as nothing - nothing was coming to mind. Nothing at all, except...

The only thing he could remember was...you.

Your name played over and over in his head on a loop. And he didn't know why. He saw flashes, of your smile, of your face, but he could remember nothing else. He hissed in pain, a stabbing sensation in his head. His mind practically vibrated with pain, his fingers finding dried blood on his skin. Blood? From the crash?

The crash. The ship. Jakku.

He was on Jakku. He had to find BB-8 and get back to the base. But his body wouldn't move. Couldn't. As much he willed it to move, his body wouldn’t follow. Instead, he could lie there, and wonder if this is how he would die. Not at the hands of the First Order, not in his x-wing or Black One, but instead here, alone in a random desert of Jakku. It wasn’t what he imagined for when he’d die, but he was hoping he wouldn’t have to die right now - not when he had so much left to do and so much he wanted to say.

He coughs, pain splintering through his body, hand reflexively covering his face, and he sees a glimpse of the shiny red on his fingers.

He wanted to get BB-8. He wanted to be there when the First Order was defeated. He wanted to punch Ren.

More than that, he wanted to thank Leia, for everything she’s done for him. He wanted to thank his whole squadron for being the family he never got to have. He wanted to have a future, one without war, death, and misery, one with you. One where he could just hold your hand.

But, his eyelids tugged, begging him to close them, maybe that wasn’t meant to be. His eyes fluttered open and shut, and he heard footsteps and shouting, before he succumbed to sleep.

"Please help," he muttered, before he was pulled into slumber once again.  

~~~

You knew a launch of an attack was coming. Evident by the flurry of mechanics by the strip, the nervous energies of the soldiers, and the solemnity of the leaders. You had caught a glimpse of General Organa walking past the medcenter - the bags under her eyes complimented the grim line her mouth was drawn into. She must have not slept for days. You knew she had a soft spot for Poe - how did she take the news when she heard? But how does a leader take news upon hearing another one of their soldiers have died? Does it grow harder to care each time? Or does it hurt too much to dwell on?

Your chest squeezed. You didn’t care to dwell on that.

Instead, you readied yourself - an attack meant serious injuries, possible organ damage, and surgeries galore. You made sure each room was stocked with at least one bacta spray - supplies were running low - and you reviewed surgical procedures, ones more common with the sort of attack being waged. X-wings meant injuries of all sorts, and triage would need to happen within a snap. You knew you couldn’t save everyone - your body ached at the thought of Poe - but you sure were going to damn try.

The grief came in waves. Sometimes you were hopeful. Maybe he had pulled off another Poe Dameron miracle. You almost laughed at the idea - Poe Dameron simply showing up in a ship out of nowhere - how fitting. Stars knows he did well with his back to the wall. But then there were other times. Other times, you could barely stop crying - crying at the thought of him dying alone, either after being tortured or killed without a second thought. You rubbed at your eyes, no tears left to fall. Instead, you felt a dull ache between your eyes. Lovely. It had only been barely a week since he had gone, and it felt like a lifetime.

It was easier to work. Staying in your apartment only made your thoughts drift to him. Easier to let your mind grow numb with routine and busywork, with the preoccupation of patients and treatments. Besides, you felt closer to him this way - you weren’t running anymore, and you would never let fear dictate your life again.

After taking care of your patients for the day, you left the medcenter. Your eyes drifted to where Poe had been waiting for you, your nails digging into your palms. Would this gaping hole in your life ever leave? Would it grow smaller over time? Would his loss always cast massive shadow over your life? He would want you to be happy - and he would, of course he would and maybe you will be - but, you look up when you hear shouting, what was happiness without him?

You force yourself to continue walking, unable to look back. Spotting a crowd gathering by the strip, you frown - was some sort of send off ceremony happening? But why would other pilots be gathering around - and then you saw it. You blink.

The Black One.

Walking towards the crowd, your heart pounds against your ribcage, compressing any hope you had, any expectations, any thoughts at all. But your body wasn't having it - limbs shaking even before, as you parted your way through the sea of people. You couldn't hear. You couldn't speak. Not until you knew. Not until you saw for yourself - not until you saw if -

Finally, you break through to the center, and your breath catches in your throat. Your hands fly to your mouth, unwilling to let this moment pass - in paralyzing fear that it’s not real.

Was this a dream? You blink back tears - because you never wanted to wake up.  

Poe Dameron stood, in one piece - his clothes worse for the wear, but smiling and laughing. His curls dusty and flat, his body red with scratches and black and blue bruises peeked through his sleeves. He was tired - his smile not reaching his eyes, shifting his weight as if he was ready to leave his welcome crowd.

Alive. He was alive.

And he made it back.

He looks up, as if he sensed you. And he finally sees you. His eyes light up, lips falling into an easy smile - one that reached his eyes, one which required no effort.  He steps forward, sliding past the others, "Sweetheart-" he broke off, smile faltering, "sorry, I mean-"

You didn't let him finish. Your arms around his neck, you pulled him close, burying your head in his chest, "I'm okay," he mumbles, and you know he feels your tears wet his shirt,  "I made it back to you." He whispers, as if he can’t believe it himself.

"I know, you’re here. You’re here," you don’t know if it’s to reassure him or you.  

He pulls you away from the crowd, arm wrapped around your shoulders, his fingers tight. You lift your head to look up at him, his fingers brushing a tear from your cheek away, another running right over it.

“I will always make it back,” for you. Even though you don’t hear those words, you know it’s what he means. And he always has, hasn’t he? That was Poe Dameron.

“I know,” you lean away, your fingers drift to his, intertwining them, “and that’s only one reason why I love you.”

He blinks, "I-what do you-"

“I love you, Poe. I know I can’t stop,” You cup his cheeks, thumb running across his cheek, into the divots of his dimples, "I realized losing you isn't the scariest thing in the world-" he frowns, brow furrowed, "it's losing you without loving you. Loving like I do. Like I always have."

"Sweeth-" he cuts himself off again, and you shake your head.

"Call me sweetheart, call me whatever you want," more tears slip down your cheeks, "when I thought I never would hear you call me that, never hold me again, never tease me, never kiss me-" your voice broke, tears splattering on the ground, shaking your head, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I was so scared. So scared to get hurt. But it was so much worse when you were gone-"

"Shh," he leans down, pressing his forehead to yours, "I know. I know. The whole time, everything I did, I did to make it back here. To you, sweetheart." His eyes glassy with tears, "you are my home."

You leaned up, brushing your lips to his, chastely. And again. And again, until his arms found purchase around your waist, pressing you to him. Your hands tug on the front of his shirt, and he groans, but not in pleasure - in pain.

You break the kiss, and a small moan leaves his lips in protest, "How injured are you right now?"

He hesitates, biting his lip, "I got some treatment but -"

You shake your head, "Trying to pull more fancy moves to impress me?" You press another kiss to his lips, pulling him towards the Medcenter.  

But he tugs you to his chest with a yelp, "Well it's worked out for me so far, hasn't it?" He nips at the soft spot behind your ear, before sighing, content, burying his face in the nape of your neck.

“Poe-”

“Just let me hold you for a second, okay?” you wrap your arms gingerly around him, fingers carding through his hair, rooting yourself in the reality that he was here, he was okay, he was alive.

~~~

“So you didn’t leave the medcenter?” He says, when you re-enter the patient room you had stuck him in, and you give a wry smile.

“Someone very wise told me I should stop letting fear dictate my life,” you say, pulling on gloves, “so I did. It was hard, but I realize what’s more important in life.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Oh, and what is that?”

Your lips curl, “Shirt off, Dameron,”

“Yes, ma’am,” he pulls the shirt over his head, as you return with bandages, a washcloth, a small basin of water and soap, “if you wanted to see me with my shirt off, you only had to ask.” You survey his torso - mostly bruises and scratches from what you could see.

You roll your eyes, dipping the washcloth in the warm water,  “Don’t think I know that already?” You wring the cloth of almost all the water, before beginning to clean his cuts. “You are mine after all, wasn’t that the deal?” He leans up to press a kiss to your cheek, and then another to the hollow of your throat.

“As long as you’re mine,” Your hand glides over his chest, and he hisses as you scrub. You bit back a small smile, survived the First Order, and yet, still sensitive about his bruises. And it gives you an idea. Again, your hand slides over his chest with the damp cloth. But this time your lips follow its trail.

And this time when he hisses, it isn’t because of the pain, “Sweetheart,” it’s almost a warning - it’s cute, his voice deepens ever so slightly, and you feel the hitch in his throat when your lips ghost over it. His hands reach out to touch you, but you shake your head.

“I have to finish,” an innocent smile that he knew wasn’t innocent at all. You stand between his legs now, reaching behind him to scrub his back. Not exactly effective from a medical standpoint, but it definitely distracted him from the pain. You didn’t stop him from burying his head in the nape of your neck, his lips dotting paths all over any exposed skin, his breath heavy against your skin. He groans when your mouth ghosts over his ear.

Finally, he snaps.

His legs cage you in, his hands pulling you into a bruising kiss, before they rake down your sides, and you muffle a moan in his shoulder when he squeezes your hips. His fingers toy with the waistband of your pants, a moment of clarity in a thick haze of lust, “Poe, we cannot-” he pouts, lips pursed, and it’s all it takes to break you, “fuck it.” you mutter, no one was around this late anyway.

He grins, another searing kiss against your lips, his hands eager to wander, but you step away towards the exit to lock it - only for it to open instead.

“Oh, I-” your cheeks burn, “General.”

Correction, no one was around, except maybe the General.

General Organa stood in the doorway, a small smile on her lips, greeting you by name, as you stepped aside to let her in, “I heard you had returned, but I see you’ve been too busy to relay that information to me yourself.”

Poe scrambles to pull his shirt back on, and you open your mouth to protest, but upon seeing the...growing problem that he covers with the hem of his shirt, it dies in your throat, much like the moment, “General, after you are finished speaking, I do need him to finish getting treated. He still needs to be bandaged-”

“I understand,” she says with a nod, her lips pull on the corners of her mouth, “I understand you’re very important to him, more important as of late, so I’ve heard,” Poe coughs, looking pointedly from Leia.

You’re sure you look all too pleased with yourself, “He is to me too.”

Poe shifts his gaze between the two of you, “Who told you?” Leia shakes her head, a glint in her eyes.

“If you do not want people to talk, then perhaps don’t show your affection in front of a crowd,” Leia says, striding toward the door, “and perhaps lock the door earlier.” A flush crawls up his neck, as he follows her out, still daring to throw you a smile over his shoulder.

You blink, so does that mean you have her blessing?

~~~

Night falls quickly, but Poe's return is not. You don't bother to wait at the Medcenter - you know he would find you when he was done. But your eyelids pull at you, pleading for you to crawl into bed, underneath your warm sheets. And eventually you do - unable to stave off sleep any longer.

Well at least for a moment or two.  

A knock on your door wakes you with a start, heart in your throat. Bleary eyed and stumbling, you find the door, knocking over half of what you own in the process. Without a second thought, you open it, rubbing at your eyes. You already know who it is after all.  

Poe, lips pulled into a small frown and forehead creased, “Poe?”

“Sorry,” he says, eyes not quite meeting yours, “meeting ran long.”

You shake your head, yawning, “Don’t be sorry,” you tug him inside, door shutting and locking behind him. He didn’t sit - instead he stood, in the middle of the room, expression stormy, “What’s wrong?”

And like a snap of lightning, he looks up, “Nothing, nothing, sorry,” he shakes his head, before heaving a sigh, one that seemed to carry the weight of the universe with it.

“Dameron, you can’t lie to me,” you amble over, still half-asleep, wrapping your arms from behind, face buried in his back, “what’s wrong?”

You feel the vibrations from his chuckle, as he pulls your knuckles to his lips, “Leia, she's-"

“Sending you on another mission? She wants you to lead the attack?” his head whips around, and you raise your eyebrows, “I’m not stupid, Poe. You’re the best pilot by far - you’re the commander of your own squadron. Of course they need you.”

He bites his lip, “And you are-”

“I told you,” you sigh, intertwining your fingers with his, “I’m okay. I will be here when you get back, and you will get back, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmurs, hands slipping out of yours and onto your waist, "I like it when you take charge."

"Oh? Is that so, Commander?" You tease, your hands trailing down his front, tugging him closer with a small grunt leaving his throat, a quiet moan suppressed in his throat, "then let me take charge."

He opens his mouth to protest, but you cut him off with your lips, firm and unyielding, "And what do I get for listening?"

His hands grasp at your face, sliding down the sides, deepening the kiss, "You get to do whatever you want to me after,"

You walk him back towards the bed, enjoying how pliable the pilot had become in your hands. You pull at his shirt, over his head it goes, your hands immediately taking stock of the exposed skin. Your lips drag over his chest, smiling against his skin when his breath stutters from your touch. Your hands reach for his belt now, pulling it from his waist, wasting no time ridding him of his pants as you pushed him to sit down on the bed.

His palms rested against the edge of your bed, as his eyes peered up at you, biting his lip. You press your lips to his parting his legs to make room for yourself, moving his head in tandem with yours, leaning into your touch, even as your touch left him all at once.

A growl left his throat, "Sweetheart,"

"Patience, Dameron," you strip your slowly shirt off over your head and pull your shorts down, eyes never leaving his. He swallows, his eyes darkening when you realize you’re not wearing anything underneath. You step out of them sliding back over to him, between his legs again, “keep your hands on the bed, okay?”

“Baby-”

Your fingers weave their way into his curls, tugging his head back gently as you press a sweet kiss to his forehead, “I just got you back,” his eyes soften, “let me take care of you for once.”

He nods wordlessly, and he leans up for another kiss. You don’t think you would ever tire of how his lips felt against yours, how his body trying desperately to press closer, closer still, or how his soft moans vibrated against your lips. And then your lips leave his, kisses dotting a path down his body, lighting a fire that you would be sure extinguish slowly.

Your lips shudders against you, his eyes questioning as you kneel between his legs,  “I didn’t take my time before, I didn't savor it," your hands run up and down the length of his thighs, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh before smiling against it, "I will never take you for granted again."

"Sweetheart," he moans, and you climb back up to press another kiss to his lips, as your hands trail downwards.

His hips jerk when you reach for the waistband of his boxers, lifting himself off the bed to help you pull them off. You kneel again, taking your time to familiarize yourself - kissing, sucking, brushing, but never touching where he wanted you to. Where his hands desperately wanted to lead you.  

"Please," he asks, his knuckles white against the edge of the bed.

Your fingers brush his cock, spreading the pre-cum over the length of it. Fingers grasping it at its base, licking a stripe up the bottom. You look up to see him biting his lip, “Don’t hold back,” you murmur, and he looks down at you with lidded eyes, as you take the head into your mouth.

He groans, guttural and raw, as you take as much of his as you can into your mouth, “Sweetheart, please,” you begin to suck now, pulling another moan from his lips, you look up to see his head thrown back in beautiful, debauched bliss, “I want to touch you.”

You guide his hands to you, his fingers immediately threading into your hair, his hips being to thrust gently into your mouth, “Fuck, you are so beautiful,” he meets your gaze, panting, his cock twitch in your mouth, “I love how you feel around me, sweetheart. You do that so good.”

You swirl your tongue around him, and his fingers tighten in your hair, before gently pulling you off of him. Staring down at you, his chest rises and falls, a beautiful flush has taken hold of his skin. Your fingers trace his thighs, muscles still clenched tight under your touch. You slowly rise, licking your lips clean of him. He reaches out for you, asking silently if he could finally touch you, and you take his hand.

In a moment, he has you in his lap, your legs spread out for him, thighs on either side of his waist. He groans in your ear, when his fingers finally brush you, “So wet for me," he parts you with two fingers, and you gasp, "only for me," he murmurs, with an edge of possession that has you rocking against him. He sucks his fingers clean, and growling when he feels you grow wetter. He squeezes your hips, "tell what you want sweetheart."

You don't say anything instead you position yourself over him, his head prodding your entrance, arms around his shoulders, "I want you."

You see his breath catch, before he grabs you by the back of the neck, kissing you, all teeth and tongue. Then he pulls your hips down and you sink onto him, "Fuck," you whisper against his lips, and you hear him shudder when you shift, "I love you," you breathe, intermingled with his own, and you begin to move.

“Every time I wanted to give up,” Poe breathed, his lips pressing kisses to your collarbone, fingers squeezing your breasts, “I thought of you, and how much I loved you. How much I wanted this - to be with you every night. To wake up next to each other every morning. To not be afraid of leaving you.”

“Poe,” you whisper, and he loves how he moans your name in your ear.

His hips begin to snap up, meeting you with every thrust, “I will always make it back to you,” he grabs your hips and shifts you so he hits deeper the next time, and you begin to clench around him, “and I want to feel you cum for me. C’mon sweetheart,” he licks up the side of your neck, his fingers drifting to where you met to rub at your clit, “Say my name when you cum for me.”

And you tighten around him, as he pulls you into a kiss, his lips swallowing your moans, continuing to thrust through your high, until you hear him groan your name against your lips, “Come inside me,” you say, breathless, and he does as you say, spilling inside you.

You ease into his lap, still buried in you, as you both come down. His arms steady you, warm and safe, trailing up and down your body before settling right above your hips. You run your fingers through his hair mindlessly, relishing in how he felt pressed against you. His head buried in your shoulder, his curls tickle your neck as he presses lazy kisses against your skin.

Then he pauses, “Do you think we could try this in an x-wing?”

You snort, drawing back to look at him, “That’s what came to mind?”

He laughs, a noise that makes your chest swell, and you smile at him, “Something to share, sweetheart?”

“I just love you so much,” you sigh, eyes shutting even as he helps you move from his lap. Your eyes begrudgingly open, “What are you-” He maneuvers his way to his strewn clothes. You bite your lip as your eyes drift to his ass, unabashedly admiring it, as he pulls his boxers on.

He raises a brow as he turns around, catching you in that act, “And apparently, my ass too,” he grins, much too pleased, before stepping into the refresher, only to return with washcloth to clean you both off. You shrug, trying to suppress your own smile, as he crawls over, washcloth in hand, you take it from him. When you finish, he hands you his shirt, “because I know how much you like how I smell.”

“And how do you know that?” you murmur, pulling on the shirt, resisting the urge to bring the fabric to your nose. He leans close to press a small kiss to your lips.

“Because I felt you sniff me the night before I left for Jakku,” your cheeks burn, as you splutter, and he raises a finger, “you’re such a bad liar. It’s cute,” he adds, you roll your eyes, “No wonder you can’t be a pilot.”

You gape at him in mock offense, “And what does lying have to do with being a pilot?” and the smile slides off his face, and his jaw sets. A flicker of emotion disappears as quickly as it appears. It felt as if the air had been sucked from the room, instead a thick tension settling over the room. Stifling. You watch him, the thoughts in his mind a haze over eyes, “Poe-”

He shakes it off with a terrible attempt at a smile, “No, it’s nothing. I’m sorry-” he kisses your forehead sweetly, “I don’t want to ruin our only night together-”

“Poe,” you cup his face, and he stops, your thumb drawing back and forth against his cheek, “We never talked about what happened after Jakku.”

“You don’t need to-”

“I want to know,” you tilt his face up gently to look at you, his eyes glassy, “if you’ll tell me, if you want to talk about it. You should talk about it.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but his shoulders slump under the weight of it all. And you see him give up before a fight. He sighs, rubbing his eyes, “It’s not pretty,”

“I didn’t expect it to be,” He stays silent, “I don’t want to force you, but I love you, and I’m always here-”

“They tortured me,” he blurts in a whisper, “At first, it was nothing - nothing I couldn’t handle anyway. They train you to resist - I mean they don’t call us the Resistance for nothing,” a bitter laugh caught in his throat. You want to comfort him.  You want to say something. But every word feels wholly inadequate. Every sentence a platitude. Instead, your fingers brushed his shoulders, arms engulfing around him in the comfort you wanted to surround him, chin on his shoulder. A reminder that he was safe. That had made it back. Despite the odds, he had lived.  

“I’ll spare you the details, but, when Ren came - it was different,” muscles tensing, he squeezes his eyes shut, “He tried to get to talk, and then when he couldn’t. He used the force on me.”

Your eyebrows knit together, “Poe-”

“It was a low buzz at first - I could feel it, slipping into my body, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it,” his body roils, his fingers curling into fists, veins throbbing. His heart thrummed in his chest, against your front. Your hand found his, gently prying at the nails digging into his flesh, until intertwined, “Then it was stronger still, pushing, urging, slamming. A hand reaching into my body, my mind - looking for something I wouldn’t give it,” A tear splatters against your thigh, “I tried to fight it. I thought I could. And then..”

He shudders, covering his face, covering his eyes with his forearm, “I couldn’t anymore. I couldn't stop him, and now…" his nails dig into his skin, and he swallows - the fear, the sadness, but not his anger, “I swear, I will bring them down. I will burn the First Order to the ground.”

You give a tight nod, “I know,” your hand guides his gaze to yours, “You will. We will,” before adding, “You’re not in this alone, Dameron.”

A chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, “I’m not?”

“Never,” you press your forehead to his, “not as long I’m here. And Leia. And everyone else here. We won’t stop until the end.”

“Until the end,” he repeats, eyes slowly shutting at the thought, a small smile on his lips, “A galaxy without a war.”

“It will happen,” you squeeze his hand, “and we’ll be there to see it.”

He sighs, as he chooses then to lie his head in your lap, eyes shutting as your fingers explore his curls."and then what will we do? After the war?"

You hum, ignoring the flutter of affection spreading across your abdomen, “I never really thought about it, have you?” you ask, and he purses his lips in mock thought, and the affection swirls into nerves, jittery.

“I always thought about living on Yavin IV again,” his expression softens, “where I-”

“Where you grew up with your parents,” you finish, as his eyes peer up at you, “I know you pretty well, Poe Dameron,”

“Really?” he turns so his head is now facing your stomach, “then, answer these questions,” His fingers slip under the hem of his shirt, igniting any jitters into heat, “and I’ll make it worth your while.” His lips press a kiss right above your belly button.

“Question?”

He smiles against your stomach, “Parents’ names?”

“Shara and Kes,” you feel his lips explore the soft flesh of your stomach with reverence.

“When did I find the love of my life? I mean, the one besides you,” he adds. You laugh, his deft fingers making it no better by brushing your sides.

“I think you were six?” and he confirms it with a kiss, “When your mom taught you to pilot for the first time, and you never stopped.” you feel his lips wander below your bellybutton now, “Do you think about her a lot when you fly?”

“It’s more a feeling,” he sighs, and you shiver when his warm breath billows across your bare skin, “i always remember how it felt to fly with her - it was exciting, but it was also…” his lips quirk against your skin, as he meets your gaze, “It was safe.” Your hands trace absentminded circles across the panes of his shoulders, “Okay, last question.”

He parts your thighs to make room for himself between them, pushing the hem of his shirt far above your hips, fingers splayed on either knee, drifting closer, closer, closer. His lips skim your knee, closer to your thigh now, and then even closer.

“Who do I see spending my life with on Yavin IV?” he rests his head against your knee, curls tickling the skin there. And impossibly. your feelings for him grow.

It was a warmth in your chest that told you so, but it still seemed ever so implausible. It was unfeasibly so. Each day you thought you knew him. Each day you thought you loved him. But everyday you learned something more - something else about him you didn’t know. And loved him even more.

How was it possible to love someone so completely?

“Are you trying to sweet talk me so I agree to the x-wing?” And his chuckle reverberates across your entire body, as he leans closer to your warmth.

“Sweetheart, I already have.”

~~~

Morning comes all too soon. As does the dread, so deeply ingrained in your dreams the night before - you thought Poe had already left when you awoke. But no, he laid sleeping next to you. You tamp down the urge to brush your fingers over his face or press a kiss to his cheek - you knew he would wake and it would be that much sooner that he would leave. It was easier - easier to let him sleep, to enjoy these few moments with him, his breaths puffing out evenly from between his lips.

It was nice to see him so peaceful after last night.

A stab of anger went through you, before it became a roaring wave. What you would give to run that monster’s own lightsaber through his chest. But he would get his own one day - hopefully not before Poe had his chance to punch him.

And perhaps, for you to get your own in as well.

But you didn’t want to think about the First Order. You didn’t want to think about the war. You didn’t want to think about the fact that he was leaving soon.

You just wanted to think about him. About a future after the war. About Yavin IV.

You jolt from your thoughts when he rolls over closer to you, “You know it’s very difficult to sleep when someone is watching you,” his voice thick and deep with sleep, his arm winds its way around you, pulling your head to his chest. Ironically, your breath stutters when he breathes you in, “but I don’t mind it when it's you.”

“How did you wake up?” and a small rumble vibrates against your skin.

“I had a dream,” he sighs, eyes fluttering open as he moves away to gaze at your face, “but I think I prefer reality.”

“Even when you have to leave soon?” your eyes drift to the chronometer, but he draws your gaze back to him with a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“Even then,” he grins, pushing himself up to hover over you, noses brushing as he stares down at you, “because it will be that much sooner that I get back to you, sweetheart.”

"I know," and he reaches inside his shirt, pulling a chain out - the same one he wore at all times, his mother's ring glinting in the sunlight as it hung from the chain.

"I want you to have this," he starts to pull it off, but you stop him, "no, I do." His eyes blazing, any protests die in your throat, "this is my promise. This is my promise that I will make back to you."

"Poe," you shake your head, and his face falls, "I only need your word to know that you'll make it back to me. Your mother's ring is important to you - she's the reason you fly," you press a kiss to his lips, "I'll get to wear the ring someday, after all of this is over. But right now," you press a kiss to his lips, "you should keep it."

He pauses for a moment, before cracking a smile, his curls falling across his forehead, "did I just hear you propose to me?"

“Consider it a promise,” and his expression softens, lifting your knuckle to his lips.

“I’m holding you to that, sweetheart.”

After some time, you’re forced to get dressed - both to say goodbye to Poe, and to go in for a shift.

At the hangar, you stand to the side, watching him run through the tests for the Black One with Wren. He wipes the sweat from his brow, stepping back from the ship, an easy smile on his lips when his eyes fall on you again. You adjust the white vest over his orange jumpsuit, the orange reminding you of a certain droid, “Tell BB-8 that I miss him okay? And that I’ll see you both soon.” you tell him, a flicker of guilt crosses his face, “you will find him. He’s okay.”

“I know,” he bites his lip, “I just hate flying solo.”  

“You love flying anytime,” finally his lips quirk, and his arm tugs you close his hand drifting dangerously close to your ass, “Poe,” you mean it to come as a warning, but it comes out far too breathless.

“I’m still holding you to your promise,” he murmurs against your cheek, and you flush, looking at the x-wing, “and I'll keep mine." His jaw sets for a moment as he glances at the ship - and he frowns. All too preoccupied with thoughts of war, BB-8, the impending battle. You tug at his vest.

"A small home," his brow creases in confusion, "on Yavin IV. Maybe in a clearing somewhere, surrounded by trees. Enough space for you to fly, and maybe to teach someone to fly," his eyes shine at the thought, "we are taking BB-8 with us right?”

He kisses you then, full and unyielding, and you taste the ration he had eaten this morning on his lips. His fingers on the back of your neck, deepening the kiss, before he finally parts, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes shut, "Anywhere I go with you is home."

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to cry. You will not cry over Poe Dameron again. Even as he boards. Even as you watch him take off with his squadron.

Because you will see him again.

~~~

The quiet around the base during an attack is eerie. The silence hangs over the entire encampment like a low lying smog - suffocating and visible. Fewer x-wings line the strip, fewer people rushing about, mechanics in their barracks, and a quiet settles. The fear very much sits in your throat, with every breath or every bite of food you swallow. It also lingers in your stomach, much like a disagreeable meal.

There were moments you forgot: you laughed at something your co-workers said or at a joke your patient made. You would smile, but then you would feel it - the memory of a wound that hadn’t happened yet. And the happiness would dissipate, leaving only the thought.

It was worse when it was quiet.

Even worse when you weren’t busy, and all you were left with were “what ifs” again.

And that’s why you found yourself sitting by the hangar, watching mechanics return to the barracks after doing some repairs. Your head drifted towards the sky. No sign. And no word for that matter.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting for him this whole time,” Your head snaps to attention and you see General Leia Organa standing. You had seen the General very few times. Poe was her protege - yes - and you were just one of the many stitching up her soldiers. You didn’t blame her, of course, you wouldn’t trade places with her for anything. The immense pressure, the pain of loss, the fear of failure…It must weigh on her each and every day - and yet, she still rose. She still led. She still fought.

“General,” she puts you at ease with a gentle wave of her hand, and you found her beside you. You stood in comfortable silence, relatively, as comfortable as you could be besides the leader of the Resistance. You resist the urge to wring your hands or to glance at her. Her stare was penetrating - one look you felt completely vulnerable, completely open. Like she had your worth and your life in one fell swoop. But still...you couldn’t resist asking, “What are you doing here?”

“The same thing you are doing,” out of the corner of your eye, you see her staring at the sky as well, “looking.”

“What are you looking for?” the words slip out, and regret washes your face in red, "Apologies, General, I-"

"I'm thinking about my husband," you try (and fail, you suspect) to hide the look of shock coloring your expression, “don’t look so surprised, aren’t I allowed to reminisce?”

“Of course, I apologize. It’s just-” you break off, a complete loss of words.

"My husband and I had many adventures. Sometimes together. Others apart. But we always shared the same sky - perhaps not the same planet's, but we shared the same galaxy. Most times it had been enough," her gaze fell to the ground, "other times it wasn't."

You don't waver this time, "I was scared at first. Poe, what he does. It scared me that I wouldn't be able to save him. That I wouldn't be enough -" you finally allow yourself to look at her, and you found her staring back, "but I realize I didn't need to save him. I just needed to support him," you bite your lip, "maybe you both need to support each other."

Expression unreadable, her gaze shifts away from you, “You’re just as Poe described,”

You swallow the lump in your throat, “And how did he-”

“He spoke of you with pride, but softness,” she tells you, almost wistfully, “everything he does, he does with his whole heart, he does for the Resistance, but he also does it for you.”

“How do you know?" Her features grow softer.

"Because I've felt it for another," she takes one last look at the sky, "they will arrive back soon enough," she nods at you, "please be ready to treat them. I am counting on you to do your best."

You barely remember to nod, watching her back retreat, and she pauses, "I entrust you with his care. He is a good commander, but an even better man."

"I know," your voice caught in your throat, "I will."

And for a moment, the quiet doesn't seem so daunting.

~~~

And it was as General Organa said: it happened quickly.  

The front doors of the medcenter bursted open, an orderly panting from running from the strip nodded, and that’s when you knew. They had returned.

Grabbing your kits, everyone rushed out prepared to triage, stabilize, and transfer.  

They came back, some were lucky - some made it back intact; but others were not. Already you could see a few fires where x-wings had crashed into the ground, the smell of burning metal and flesh heavy in the air. You didn’t have time to take in much else.

It was patient after patient.

One by one, you darted from x-wing to x-wing, helping other medics to get the severely injured to the medcenter, stabilizing the ones you could do on site. The most difficult part was the diagnosis - one mistake, and it cost the person their life. And a little bit of your humanity.

Dislocated shoulders, broken bones, chemical burns - nothing you hadn’t seen before, and in quantities that the medcenter could handle. Still, your nerves bit at you, waiting - waiting for the other shoe to drop. But with every patient you handled, you slowly realized it wasn’t coming - the patients grew less, and less ships began to return. But was that a good thing? A shiver went down your spine - after all, these were just the ones that were able to return.

And still, no sign of Poe or the Black One.

But it wasn’t the time to think of that. You had a job to do, taking a moment to wipe the dripping sweat from your brow. Everything else would come later.

Hours passed, and you went from one patient to the next. Barely a moment to breathe, much less sit, but you allowed your body a moment of stillness, amongst the chaos. Staying in place was as dangerous as lying down - especially if you wanted to keep working.

Either way, you couldn’t stay idle, not for long anyway - not when you had a job to do, and a procedure to get to. Despite this, you still heard the whispers amongst the medics - the battle had ended. You could see it too - less panic, less chaos, and less medics. Soon you could go home - and a tiny part of you hoped - hoped Poe would be waiting outside, against the medcenter wall again.

But when you found someone waiting for you outside the medcenter - it wasn’t Poe - it was his mechanic, “Wren,” you blink, “didn’t I tell you I decided to stay-”

“You did,” the corners of her lips made an attempt at a smile, but instead it only made her frown more pronounced, “Poe asked me to pass on a message for you, he had to run out on another mission,” throat tight, you give a stiff nod, heart dropping down to your feet.

“Thank you for letting me know, any idea when he will be back?”

She shook her head, “You know how these things are - but he did get BB-8 back, so he’s in good company,” you chuckled, shaking your head.

“Well between the two of them, BB-8 does seem to have custody of the brain cell more often, especially for a droid,” Wren grinned, and you sighed, the thought weighing on your already tired body more heavily than you thought it would. You took a step forward, and the planet spun underneath you, legs made simultaneously of iron and jelly.

Everything was garbled, distant, even as Wren asked, “Are you okay?” you barely heard it, and then nothing.

~~~

Warm. Too warm. You felt consciousness and reality pull at you, but you pushed it away, instead focusing on how comfortable you were in the slippery arms of sleep. You felt something brush against your forehead, and you knocked the annoyance away, utterly too sleepy to deal with being bothered. But that only served to wake you further. You furrowed your brow, realizing the edge of this bed was much closer than you though-

You froze, this wasn't your bed.

Eyes blinking open, you groaned, covering your eyes again, the harsh light of the world of the living far too...harsh for you. Stars, your head hurt.

Groggy and confused, you finally could open your eyes. And you spotted familiar surroundings - no First Order abduction, but rather one done by your workplace. You moved to sit up, but after several seconds of struggling, you gave up, resigned. It felt like someone jabbed a lightsaber right through your forehead. What happened?

You fell back on your pillow, squeezing your eyes shut, you were still so tired. A groan left your lips, drawn out and muffled against your pillow.

"And what a welcome home that was," you furrowed your brow, lifting your head.  

Arms crossed across his chest, his white popped collar shirt looking thoroughly slept in. His lips pulled into an impossibly wide grin, eyes somehow still glinting mischievously, despite the dark bags under them. He set down the rations he had, rounding the bed to your side. And somehow you found the strength to push yourself up and into his arms, head resting against his very real middle, "is this a dream?" You mumbled against him, his laughter made you vibrate.

He hummed, "I think if this were a dream we would both have much less clothes on," you scoffed, and he laughed again, as your hands fisted in his shirt, "I thought I was the one who was supposed to end up in the hospital, not you."

"I don't even remember what happened," you pulled back to look up at him, and he frowned, "I remember the x-wings returning, triaging, then leaving to go home, and then...Wren told me you left on a mission."

"And then you passed out from dehydration," he shook his head, running his fingers through your hair, "Wren brought you inside. As soon as I heard, I came here, and I slept here. I wanted to be here when you woke up."

"Hm, not the same as waking up beside you," you said, burying your head in his middle, hearing his heart thump particularly hard against his chest, "but close enough."

"Well now that you're awake, I think we can arrange for that," and you drew back, grinning up at him, he ran his fingers down the side of your cheek, "if you'll have me?"

You pulled him by his collar into a kiss. He succumbed to your touch immediately, his fingers finding the back of your neck to pull you closer, his tongue sliding into your mouth. Your hand found purchase on his shoulder, and then in the small curls on the back of his neck, re-affirming for this moment, and forever, he was here. He was home.

"Poe Dameron," you murmur, foreheads pressed together,  "I think I'll have you for the rest of my life."

EPILOGUE

And again, you found yourself in the exact same predicament.

“What do you want, Dameron?” you didn’t look up from the small cutting board, even as his arms curled around your waist, pressing his chest to your back. The afternoon light pierced through the open window, casting the whole cabin in a warm hue, despite the shade the immense trees provided.

So maybe, not the exact same predicament.

His beard dragging over your skin as he pressed kisses to the crook of your neck, “Sweetheart-”

You held up your hand, the one with the knife in it, “No sweetheart,” you turned, hands on your hips, “you’ve been distracting me all day, and I’m actually trying to cut some fruit for us to enjoy since we have not eaten since this morning.”

He bit his lip, before his lips curled in a smile, eyes flickering up and down your body, “Well I ate just a few minutes ago,”

Your cheeks burn, “I meant food.”

“Oh,” he says with a cheeky smile, “fine. Then, how can I help, wife?”

You roll your eyes, pressing your lips into a line to hide your smile, “Why don’t you go wait for me outside, General?"

“Yes, ma’am,” he winks, stepping out of the cabin, and you smiled, despite yourself, finishing up with the fruit.

You find him sitting on a tree stump, and you pause. His black curls had a touch of salt and pepper gray in them now, including his beard. He grow it out, thick and mildly untamed, especially when you let it slip how much you actually liked it.

You weren't complaining.

His eyes still had that glint in them that made your heart skip several beats, and his smile remained utterly and annoyingly charming, his laugh even more so - no longer weighed down by the pressures of war. Now he could fly anytime he wanted - but just for the thrill of it. His hands were now bruised and rough, but not from risking his life, but from making one with you.

“Are you just going to stare at me, or join me?” you blinked, as he turned his head to smile at you, “because I don’t mind either.”

“How do you always know?” you hand him the plate, choosing to sit against his legs on the ground, “Does being a pilot entail having eyes in the back of your head?”

“Always ready, baby," you peer up at him, head between his legs, "our groves are doing well, aren't they?"

You hummed, "Because of your work on them, and all my help, "

"You mean when you watch me work without my shirt on?" He snorts, handing you a few pieces of fruit from the plate, “very helpful.”

You take a bite enjoying how the cool citrus flavor dances across your tongue, “I meant more taking care of everything else,” before you add, “well besides cooking.”

You don’t need to look at him to know he has that knowing smile across his lips and you turn to confirm your suspicions, only to watch him lick his fingers, the juice from the fruit running down his fingers, hiding his smile behind his hand.

You turn around, licking a wide stripe up the side of his hand, all the way up his pinky. His pupils dilated, lips parted as his eyes, the smile wiped off his face as your mouth closed around two of his fingers, sucking the juices off his fingers, before mouth popping off, as you dust yourself off.

Walking backwards, grinning at your still dumbfounded husband, “Isn’t it about time for dinner?" You grin at his agape expression, before scurrying off towards the cabin, your laugh echoing above the thick jungle of Yavin IV when you hear him yell your name as he chases after you.

~~~

After a very long night, Poe awakes to an empty bed, his arm not finding your soft warmth, but a cold sheet. His eyes flutter open to see the light filtering in through the window, “Sweetheart?” he groans, burying his head in the pillow for a moment, listening to the silence for a reply.

Nothing.

BB-8 rolls in the doorway, “Buddy, where’s-” he beeps, waiting for Poe to follow him.

"it's so early, what is-"

You were staring at the x-wing, arms crossed over your middle, "Sweetheart?" You jump, spotting the nearly imperceptible motion of you wiping a tear from your eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," you offer a small smile, eyes still glassy. You must notice his furrowed brow, as you shake your head, "everything is fine."

"Your eyes don't seem to agree," you laugh waterily, intertwining your hand with his easily - as easy as it always has been. He always loved the weight of your hand in his, maybe that's why he was always dragging you everywhere. It was an excuse to touch you, to be closer, to breach that line he had drawn for himself in the sand. The one he thought he'd never breach.

He'd never be able to thank the stars for your slip that night. Your admission that led to your kiss. Otherwise maybe, you wouldn't be dragging him somewhere.

You pulled him towards the x-wing, and he raised a brow, "Are you actually offering-"

"Once was enough, Poe," you roll your eyes, "it was also uncomfortable and I think I still have bruises from the dashboard to prove it."

"Still worth it," and you scoffed, "then why-"

You pulled him in, making him take a seat, at the helm, "Remember when we talked about our life here?"

He blinked, "Yeah?'

"Well, you said you always wanted to teach someone to fly this thing," he tilted his head, gears in his mind working out this riddle, "and I'm sure not flying this thing."

His mouth fell open, and his eyes flitted from your face to your stomach, "You-"

"We are," you squeezed his hand, moving it to place on your stomach, "BB-8 is going to have a sibling." His laugh was consumed by a sharp breath, pressing his forehead to yours.

"We're having a baby, sweetheart," he whispers reverently, feeling the corners of his eyes sting with fresh tears, his lips press to yours, pulling you into a tight hug. He inhaled deeply, burying his face in your shoulder. He never wanted to forget this moment.

He squeezed his eyes shut. When his mother passed, he thought he would never forget - forget the sound of her voice, what her smile looked like, what it felt like to be held by her. But time wore on, fraying the memories at their edges until they unraveled. Some things he remembered better than others, just as some days are better, but even now those strong memories were beginning to waver. Each time he realized, it gnawed away at him, a loss that he believed would never leave him. And it wouldn't. Not completely. Nor would the pain of the battles he had fought. The people he had lost. His parents. Leia.

Leia. He knew she would have loved his child. He knows it - so much so that his chest aches. Probably would have spoiled them. Doted on them. He thought he would never get over losing her -

But now, maybe, he leaned back to look at you. Even a little, that loss seemed to ebb away, and instead of sadness, he felt hope.

He presses a sweet kiss to your lips, "I think you just gave me my new dream, sweetheart."

You smile, "And you just gave me mine."

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #star wars #poe dameron imagines #sw #sw fanfiction #tfa #the force awakens #i worked too hard at this fic holy shit #please give it a read #i have no idea what to tag this as whoops #star wars imagines

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Survivors of Unfair Choices (12) | FirstOrder!Poe Dameron x Reader

Words: 1742

Warning: SW-verse typical violence, minor swearing

A/N: I’ve finally caught up in writing this series. Thank you for your patience. I had other things to say for this section but this whole queuing thing has been giving me a hard time and I accidentally deleted this the first time.

Series Masterlist

-

You led them through the makeshift command center hidden deep among the vines and roots of the greenery, walking in first. Leia stood at the center, her face illuminated by the holoprojector table as she’s surrounded by other Resistance officers. She looks up and smiles at you.

“General Organa, I’m sorry to interrupt,” you said, stepping towards the table before gesturing to your companions, “This is Finn and Poe. They need to talk to you-”

“Oh, I’ve met Poe, of course. And I need to talk to Finn,” Leia said, stepping forward and grabbing Finn’s hand. “That was incredibly brave, what you did. Renouncing the First Order, saving my commander's life-”

Finn was taken aback. “Thank you ma’am,” he said. You gently scooted him closer and encouraged him to continue, “but a friend of ours was taken prisoner-”

Leia nodded. “Han told me about the girl. I’m sorry.”

Finn looked over at Han, surprised that he would have even been concerned by it. Perhaps, he was used to the First Order’s mentality, where being compromised made you a lost cause and they’d sooner abandon you when you’ve lost your worth.

“General, we’re both familiar with the weapon that destroyed the Hosnian system,” Poe stepped in, patting Finn on the shoulder.

Leia hummed. “We’re desperate for anything that you can tell us,” Leia said, drawing the attention towards the two men.

You stepped to the side, standing between Leia and Han. The smuggler gave you a nudge and smirked.

“So the First Order’s poster boy with the curls, huh?” he muttered under his breath.

You jabbed his side with your elbow, feeling like you were in the academy again, talking while the teacher was giving a lecture. Luckily, Leia’s focus was on Finn and Poe. The defectors. The newly recruited members of the Resistance. Your new friend and your new… boyfriend? You caught Poe’s eyes from across the table, causing a small smile to form on both of your lips before he turned his attention back to Finn. Right, there was a war going on right now. At least you were now on the same side of the war. You didn’t know how you’d manage it if you were to face him in battle as enemies after everything that happened, being stranded on that planet with him. Would he still follow orders?

C-3PO inserted the data device from BB-9 into the base computer, projecting a holographic map. Leia walks around the map, studying it closely in case she missed anything, but she hadn’t. Her face fell, knowing that all that effort to retrieve it, the sacrifices made, resulted in an incomplete map.

C-3PO spoke up, only confirming what everyone could see, “General, I regret to inform you, but this map recovered from BB-9 is only partially complete. And even worse, it matches no charted system on record. We simply do not have enough information to locate Master Luke.”

Leia nodded somberly. “I can't believe I was so foolish to think that I could just find Luke and bring him home.”

Han frowned. “Leia…,” he started.

“Don’t do that,” Leia shot out, pointing at him.

“Do what?”

Leia started to head off. “Anything,” she said over her shoulder.

You sighed. Although you were glad to see them talking, you’d prefer it under better circumstances. “We’ll resume the meeting once we receive the reconnaissance report on the enemy base. Then, we’ll discuss how to proceed,” you told everyone.

They all nodded, understanding the situation that the General and Han are in. A few Resistance members that were part of the inner circle came over to welcome you back, knowing that you did your best in retrieving the map. No one knew if the map was retrievable, that it would be simple enough to show exactly where Luke Skywalker was, but there was hope. Although it was incomplete, it was something.

You walked over to your boys who had watched the entire interaction between the couple and you with the other members, your hands held behind your back.

“Are they going to be alright?” Finn asked, looking over to where Han and Leia left.

You nodded. “They just need to talk some things out,” you said, then smiled, “How did it feel to have the attention of the room?”

Finn let out a short laugh. “It was nerve wracking and… exhilarating.”

“First day with the Resistance and you’re already talking amongst the higher-ups,” Poe teased.

“And what about you?” Finn pointed out, “Flying with the Resistance, heading a squadron, and already on speaking terms with General Leia?”

Poe shrugged. “They needed a pilot and their commander was busy stealing the Millenium Falcon with a stormtrooper, a scavenger, and two droids.”

You rolled your eyes. “You are not about to steal my squadron,” you told him.

“I don’t know, (Y/n/n), they seem to like me,” he smirked, “I guess I’m that charming, though, they did threaten to kill me if I hurt you.”

Finn scrunched his nose. “Please stop this, you two. Not sure what I want to be in the middle of, an arguing married couple or a flirty new couple.”

-

When Han and Leia finished with their talk, you cautiously approached the two, wondering if you were stepping out of bounds. They both turned to you, knowing you had something on your mind. Han pulled out a crate for you to sit across from him before taking a spot next to Leia.

“How are you doing, kid?” Han asked. “Although it’s not a complete map, you did bring back some valuable assets. You did good, kid.”

You forced yourself to smile, thinking about the village that the First Order attacked when they came to retrieve the map. “Can’t save everyone, only save who you can, even if it’s just one person, right?” you said.

Leia reached over and squeezed your hand. “Lor San Tekka is an old and loyal friend of ours. He knew what was at risk when he gave us the map,” she said, “We can’t let his sacrifice go out in vain. We just need to keep going and find something else.”

You nodded, then swallowed. “Um, when the First Order attacked the village… I saw Kylo Ren… Ben. He… do you think… have you ever tried to reach out to him again? Forgive me, I-”

“No, no, I understand where you’re coming from,” Leia assured you.

“It’s just that… I am sure that there is some light within him,” you said, “This doesn’t erase what he’s done, but maybe there’s a way to stop him from straying further down this dark path. I am in no way a jedi or anything. I’m just a regular human who flies X-Wings, but I think one of the reasons why he’s so… angry is the fact that he knows there’s light in him and he thinks it’s a weakness. If you don’t mind me asking, General, what exactly happened that caused this?”

The couple exchanged a tired and sad look. When Leia didn’t speak, Han stepped forward and said, “Sending him away to train with Luke might not have been enough for him to see the light.”

“Surely something must have happened for him to turn to the dark side?” you said.

Leia shook her head. “Luke went into exile after the temple was destroyed. We don’t know exactly what happened.”

“Maybe if we reach him and-”

“Why are you so insistent on this, kid?” Han frowned.

You looked up at him. “I escaped a Star Destroyer with the help of a stormtrooper and a commander of the First Order. I encountered Kylo Ren on that ship and he tried to search my mind for the map and I resisted as much as I could and I thought of you, General. You still have an effect on him. Maybe he’s lost and the only one that had reached him at his most vulnerable point was Snoke.”

Leia squeezed your hand again. “It’s been a while since I’ve tried to reach him and it might take a lot of energy from me,” she said sadly.

“If we could find Luke, is it possible?”

“Maybe.”

-

Finn had taken his place at the map table, showing a holographic image of the Starkiller base he worked at while surrounded by the inner circle members of the Resistance. You crossed your arms, standing between Poe and Snap.

“The scan data from Snap’s reconnaissance flight confirms Finn’s report,” you said, looking at the wireframe hologram.

Snap nodded. “They've somehow created a hyper lightspeed weapon built within the planet itself,” he added.

“A laser cannon?” Major Brance inquired, crossing his arms.

Snap pursed his lips. “We’re not sure how to describe a weapon of this scale.”

Major Ematt’s eyes widened in horror. “It’s another Death Star,” he gasped.

Poe and Finn exchanged a grave look with Poe shaking his head. “I wish that were the case, Major,” he said.

He nodded over to you, prompting you to press the control. A wireframe of the Death Star appeared on the hologram table. Poe shifted, standing closer to you as he continued with his arms crossed.

“This is the Death Star,” he pointed.

You pressed another control. The image of the Death Star started to shrink and shrink and shrink as the image of the Starkiller Base grew. It made the Death Star seem like a mere moon orbiting a planet. The others began to gasp and whisper. You shook your head, seeing the entire image for the first time. Poe squeezed your hand firmly and it was then you realized how sweaty your palms became.

“This… is the Starkiller Base.”

Han frowned, placing his hands on his hips. It was a lot bigger than expected and it was no secret that hope was draining out of the meeting room the longer they looked at the Starkiller Base. He cleared his throat and shrugged nonchalantly.

“So it’s big,” he said.

Admiral Ackbar stepped forward. “How is it possible to power a weapon of this size?”

“It uses the power of the sun,” Finn answered, “As the weapon is charged, the sun is drained until it disappears.”

An officer rushes over to Leia with a datacard. Leia grabbed it quickly, her eyes scanning through it. The room was quiet as they waited for the news. “The First Order,” she began, “they're charging the weapon again, now… Our system is the next target.”

-

Taglist: @megzdoodle @psychoticobsession @thescarletknight2014 @marrypuffsstuff @theoralpha @daniellajocelyn @badwolf-212 @gleigh42 @ella-solei @roserrys @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @juliaguliaa

#Survivors of Unfair Choices #First Order!Poe Dameron x Resistance!Reader #First Order!Poe Dameron #poe dameron x reader #Poe Dameron #Star wars imagine

[nny11writes]

Hi! 1, 8 and 20 for the fanfic ask? :D

1. If you’re an author, how many WIPs do you currently have? (Be honest!)

Uh, hang on while I count? Last time I went through I counted EVERY SINGLE idea I’d put on paper and had over 200 stories, the vast majority of them were WiPs. Like, 243 WiPs last check. And I’ve only added more to the pile. BUT I’m going to look /specifically/ only at my active WiPs, aka things that I’m at least occasionally opening to work on (writing at least once every month or two in, I’m over all a slow writing tbh lol) and which includes all stories that I’m posting and aren’t finished yet. So that’s...19 active. Of those fics, 2 are SW and the rest are SPOP fics. :|

But will I give up the currently 252 WiPs I have to the general population or send them out for others to write? 

No. They are mine and I would love to actually write in a LOT more of them!

8. Bed sharing or roommates AU?

Why would you make me choose I thought we were FRIENDS!? There is so much merit to them both! As a reader I can’t choose and you can’t make me! As a writer, I tend to default to roommates. Being aroace I like the idea of bed sharing for romance/smut but can’t actually conceptualize it as a writer unless it’s couched in a bunch of other stuff and that sounds like a lot of work lol!

20. Do you have a favorite fanfic or author? If so, tag them/post a link and share the love! I know I’ve rec’d several of these folks before, AND I’LL DO IT AGAIN. But I have far, far too many faves to actually list everyone here??? But Imma try and list A LOT OF THEM ANYWAYS?????????????? And as soon as I get asked things like this I just forget everyone and everything which doesn’t help. So, sorry if I missed you! You know who you are, and you know I love you, and you know that my memory is swiss cheese.

I’m a huge AU fan and that’s....it’s really, REALLY gonna show lol Star Wars @chancecraz has some amazing star wars original trilogy fics and time travel is included, and I’m a sucker for it okay? Who doesn’t want to watch Leia be LEIA ORGANA 24/7?

Gabby (Kirasoka) writes a bunch of fantastic barrissoka fic, I was sucked in by her medieval AU and don’t regret it one bit! Give a look if you haven’t!

@artyblogs is single handedly responsible for getting me into Riyo/Ahsoka, and does a lot of amazing Pantoran world building so check her out for sure!

@mylordshesacactus and @alexkablob have both written independently and collaborative barrissoka and are the reason I got sucked into the clone wars animated series. Here’s mylordshesacactus’s AO3 and alexkablob’s AO3 for Star Wars specifically. And then they both talked a bit about SPOP and I decided to check it out and WHOOPS NOW I’M IN A NEW FANDOM AGAIN. I also started watching RWBY thanks to them and basically I trust their tastes/opinions with my life apparently.

@bionic-jedi has also written some great barrissoka, but I fell in love with his Riyo/Ahsoka fic A Path She Couldn’t Follow! A bodyguard au that makes me want to re-read it over and over and over again. So you should get in on this if you aren’t!

@meridianpony has the FANTASTIC clone centric fic Dominoes! It’s not only clone centric, but also got time travel so it’s already ticking off several fantastic boxes before we even get into the complexity of the story. Great characterization and a deeper time travel plot than I feel like we usually see!

@thegirlwhostumbled (Elvana) has a great what if story for Ahsoka discovering Barriss’s plan before the bombing happened called An Incomplete Solution that you should check out for barrissoka goodness. :)

MirandaTam has a great Jedi Shmi AU Series that you have to see for an AU where Shmi leaves Tatooine with Anakin and becomes Yoda’s apprentice. An amazing gen canon divergence fic!

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

@malachi-walker has their whole She Ra rock star AU Rhythm & Blues (C'mon, Darlin', Make Some Noise) and it’s golden and if you like catradora you should read it!

@relativelystellarlyinclined has the fantastic As long as we stay together (if we just stay together) which is a catradora modern au in Antarctica and the whole story had me in a vice grip.

@technoskittles‘s fic Pure Feeling is a modern au catradora that features single mom Adora and Catra reconnecting after several years apart. It’s super sweet and super good!

@artemisbye has a catradora modern au fake dating fic called you did something to me that is top notch!

@weirdoughnut is writing my hands down favorite glitra fic Of Vagaries and Make-Believe so def check them out for a great glitra modern au!

Ikubusmb has only posted 3 fics for SPOP but they are all good. I specifically want to rec Closer Than I Hoped, a modern glitradora fic that is making me lose my mind one chapter at a time.

Felle_DesignWorks has some great glitradora aus that I’m in love with, but they are all explicit so heads up if not your cup of tea!

@azureshadowmoon has written several great glitradora fics as well, but I’d like to specifically rec Catmint because it’s amazingly amazing and I love it so much you don’t understand. Glimmer PoV modern au/coffee shop, but with Glimmer’s shift starting at 2AM.

@thebravething has several awesome fics, but I’m going to rec 2 catradora fics here specifically! First is Before The Clock Strikes Twelve, a modern AU that I am stupidly glad I found and read because I love this lady so much y'all don’t understand. And second is rest your heavy heart which not only features fantastic catradora, but also exasperated Glimmer which is a personal favey fave of mine :D

#ohhhhh that's why they encourage my every passing thought #ask game #fanfiction game #writing game #about the author #me and my way too many WiPs #some of you are suddenly going #and like #you're not /wrong/ #but also #you're stuff is amazing and I love you all #fic rec #she ra #spop #star wars #god I want to basically list every single good fic and author I've read but like #that's not possible #okay it is but it would take HOURS #and I've been at this for almost an hour already #whoops #anyhows #if you want more specific fic recs (fandom #pairing #general #smut #etc) let me know! #I love point people to others fics because they are just that fucking good! #lightasthesun

[jasper-system]

The Trial

Looking through my notebooks I found an old story idea I had started writing but never finished. It’s about Grand Admiral Thrawn from the Star Wars EU (not SW Rebels cartoon) being found after his supposed death (in this scenario he did not die but had faked his death) and is being put on trial for war crimes. Sort of similar to the Nuremberg trials after WW2. I’m not going to finish it, so here’s my notes for it.

Story title: The Trial

Part 1 - Prosecution

- Thrawn being found by Chiss and given to New Republic/Galactic Alliance.

- The judge, prosecuting and defense lawyers - why they chosen, possible ramifications.

- Fallout from Thrawn’s discovery and the trial, ie. the Noghri want to kill him, and the Empire demanding he be turned over to them. 

- Thrawn’s officers do not want to make him look bad.

- Similar cases, precedents, other high ranking Imperials.

Part 2 - Defense

- Fall out from prosecution.

- Thrawn’s people on trial supporting him.

- Empire of the Hand.

- closing - but Not the verdict. (my idea was that it would be a sorta cliff hanger ending, leaving it for the reader decide what the verdict would/should be)

- Attempts on Thrawns life and attacks on the defense lawyer.

Overall 

- the pro and anti Thrawn groups as well as any neutral groups.

- ramifications of the trial.

- where do the Jedi stand?

 - justice - Leia and the government and the jedi.

- politics - Empire, Chiss, and the New Republic/Galactic Alliance

Here is what I had written for it - remember incomplete first draft.

The Chiss had found him. They had refused to release the details and Karrde had been unable to learn much. The Chiss had confirmed his identity as Thrawn and Saba Sebatyne had confirmed that this alien was not a clone.  

The Galactic Alliance had been fierce in getting the aliens to release him to their custody, the process had dragged for months with Thrawn being held in a detention facility on Csilla. Luke had no doubt that the Chiss had been questioning him there. It had all lead to now, Luke thought watching the guards escort the Chiss into the room. Thrawn, the military genius who had come so close to bringing the Republic down, was being brought to justice. He was being tried before the entire senate and it was being broadcast on the holonet.

The former Imperial Grand Admiral was being charged with crimes against sentient beings.

The judge was an Ithorian named Zintag.

 - - -

“Rightness or Wrongness is not objective. It is subjective,” Luke said.

- - - 

Cal Omas had assured them that the trial would be fair, Leia had had her doubts, believing it to be little more than a charade. Representatives from systems that had been affected by the Empire wanted revenge and this was their chance. Luke watched closely as the prosecuting lawyer started his questioning of the blue alien. The prosecuting lawyer was Bern Jar’osk, a brown furred Bothan.

Thrawn’s lawyer was the Human Albert Grantham, from Coruscant. He had experience representing Imperial soldiers and officers being charged with war crimes.

Grantham had argued against Jar’osk being in the trial. The Bothan’s family had suffered during the upheaval over the Caamas situation. Though Thrawn himself had not been involved, it was an open secret that the Empire was ultimately responsible. Bern Jar’osk was old enough to remember those times and his family would have made sure he was aware of any losses they had suffered. A large group had gathered outside demanding the Chiss’s immediate execution. Security was doing their best to keep the demonstrators at a distance from the court room.

Bern Jar’osk opened with general questions about how what he had done before entering Imperial service. Thrawn’s answers were clear and concise. He had served in the Chiss Expansionary Defence Force before being exiled.

The Chiss ambassador who was closely observing the proceedings objected to some of the lawyer’s questions as potentially compromising the security of the Chiss.

- - - 

Kyp Durron approached Luke. “That group outside has grown. Security is having a tough time keeping it under control.”

“It will only get worse as the trial continues,” Luke said. “Too many people want revenge, there is a lot of emotion going with this trial.”

- - - 

Jeers from the Sullustans, Thrawn’s response was not to their liking. Luke turned his attention back to the proceedings.

“You, from the very beginning, together with those who were associated with you, intended to overthrow the New Republic?” Jar’osk asked.

“I wanted to establish a central government united under a single ruler, my intention was not to overthrow but to conquer,” Thrawn replied calmly. He did not react to the murmurs that swept across the court room.

Bern Jar’osk asked the question that was foremost in peoples’ minds. “How did you survive?” Thrawn gave a wan smile, “you’re referring to the Noghri assassination attempt. I knew that Leia Organa Solo had discovered what had been done to Honoghr and that she would expose it. The Noghri would attempt to kill me and would likely succeed. A clone of myself was placed on the Chimaera and I returned to the Unknown regions. It was the clone that died, not me.”

“You knew of the damage done to the planet Honoghr and did not attempt to repair it. Why?” Jar’osk demanded.

Unfazed by the Bothan, Thrawn replied, “the damage was too extensive to easily repair and the Empire did not have the resources to allocate to the task. In addition to this I needed their service. If I had of revealed the truth their service would have been less than wholehearted and there was the possibility they would have left the Empire entirely.”

 - - - 

Luke awoke with his heart pounding, and his mind racing. He reached out with the Force searching for what had awoken him. On the bedside table his comlink chirped,

“Master Skywalker we have apprehended two Noghri who were attempting to reach to the prisoner.”

“I’ll be there shortly, thank you.”

Noghri. This could cause the Alliance some problems.

With the assassination attempt Luke had two Jedi stationed to guard Thrawn.

 - - - 

Leia strode into the Council chamber.

“The Empire is demanding that Thrawn be turned over to them.” she said.

“Why?” Luke asked. They had been content for him to remain in the custody of the Galactic Alliance.

“They say the Alliance cannot protect him. There is talk that the Noghri have unofficial sanction by some members of the Council.”

The Empire was demanding that the alien Grand Admiral be turned over to them.

 - - - 

(Tasked by Navy command with the duty of pacifying the Pakuuni system, an area plagued with Rebel Alliance and pirate activity, Thrawn conducted the campaign with typical style, decisively crushing the Alliance forces in the system and overseeing the construction of NL-1 to ensure continued Pakuuni obedience.)

 - - - 

The trial reopened with testimony from those who had served with the alien Grand Admiral. X had served in the command room of the Chimaera when the ship was Thrawn’s flagship.

“I overheard conversations between Captain Pallaeon and Admiral Thrawn. They often discussed plans for the downfall of the Rebell- I mean the Republic.”

Bern Jar’osk teeth showed in a canine smile of triumph, “and in their discussions did they show in any concern as to the fate of the people they would be conquering?”

“No. They were strictly military and professional in their discussions.”

The Bothan lawyer continued to question the officer on the minutiae of their discussions.

 - - - 

Thrawn’s lawyer Albert Grantham was doing his best to minimise the damage the prosecution was doing. To Luke it seemed futile, the sentence would be guilty regardless of what Grantham did. Too many lives had been lost in the war against the Empire. The peace treaty had done much to allay the hatred but few of those responsible had been brought to justice.  

 - - - 

Jar’osk held up a datapad, “Here I quote Admiral Ackbar's analysis of New Republic military losses: "The New Republic sustained considerable losses in the Thrawn campaign: ten percent of our forces killed, thirty percent wounded—but those are just averages. On the worlds Thrawn actually hit, the devastation was significant.". He paused and looked around the room before facing Thrawn. “Because of your actions, and the doings of other warlords, the New Republic was weakened, many valuable resources were lost, so our ability to defend our worlds and people against the Yuuzhan Vong was diminished.”

Thrawn: “If it weren’t for myself and these warlords the Republic would not have held together as long as it has. It would have torn itself apart from infighting early on. It needs an enemy to unite them. There are so many different species, different ideals that without a common enemy the Republic would have broken apart into individual sectors.”

 - - - 

Kyp Durron was waiting for him outside. “Have you heard the latest news?”

Luke raised an eyebrow, “no. What is it?”

Kyp started down the corridor, Luke kept pace beside him.

“Groups have sprung up all over in support of him. Pro-Imperial groups have started gathering outside the Senate demanding his release.”

Luke exhaled slowly, reaching out to the Force. “there’s more, what is it?”

Kyp hesitated, “you’ll hear it from Leia soon.”

Luke gave him a steady look.

“Alright. There is talk of stopping the live broadcast of Thrawn’s trial.”

Luke started to walk faster, “where is Leia?”

“Waiting for you in your quarters.”

They didn’t speak until they reached Luke’s quarters. Kyp left him to speak with Leia in private.

His twin was worried. He could feel it emanating off her in a steady wave.

“Kyp told me. They are not seriously considering stopping the broadcast are they?”

She nodded, “yes. Though nothing is finalised yet, thankfully the Ithorians are not dictating to Zintag which way the trail should end.”

“The people would be up in arms if we stopped the broadcast. The

 - - - 

“The attack upon the Coral Vanda was in your mind necessary. Did you give them, a chance to surrender to turn X over?” Grantham asked.

“Yes it was necessary. The loss at Sluis Van meant we had to look elsewhere for capital warships. The Katana Fleet set us back on schedule. To get it we needed X. The Coral Vanda was given multiple chances to turn him over to us. That they chose to gamble with their lives was not what we wanted.”

 - - - 

“You did not attempt to oppose the galaxy for your own lust for power then, but instead to save the galaxy?” Grantham asked.

Thrawn thought for a moment before replying, “there is a difference between destiny and fate. Destiny is a predetermined course of events that is unalterable. Fate is a predetermined course of events that can be changed. The answer to your question is that I believe it was destiny that the galaxy was not wholly consumed by the Yuuzhan Vong, but I believe it was my fate that I was to oppose them, but due to the actions of Leia Organa Solo and others this did not happen.”

“You were following what you believed was your fate, what was intended for you?” Grantham asked confused by the answer.

“I knew the Yuuzhan Vong were coming and I believed if the galaxy was united under one government it would have withstood the Yuuzhan Vong assault. From this it seemed logical to me that I should lead the defence of the galaxy against the Yuuzhan Vong”

“Why you and not someone else, Senator Garm bel Iblis, for example.?”

“No one but myself has the ability to

 - - - 

Luke stood facing Thrawn, “what do you intend to do then?”

“The only thing left is to stand by that for which I am responsible and, if necessary, die with dignity.”

 - - - 

Zintag called the court to order. The room was silent waiting to hear the verdict..

Finish

#star wars expanded universe #star wars eu #incomplete story #fan fiction #star wars fanfiction #first draft #writeblr #grand admiral thrawn #star wars

[arabian-bloodstream]

The Skywalker Name

I just read an interesting post (Learning to Love TROS as a TLJ lover) on the SW subreddit, Star Wars Cantina, that looked at the mythological implications of Palpatine as a vessel of evil that was brought down by the merge of Rey and Ben’s Dyad and how that in effect merged the trilogies. The question that was posed was how one could still appreciate and hold onto the ‘Red Nobody’ reveal from The Last Jedi and accept and appreciate Rey as Palpatine’s granddaughter as well. As I was considering this and responding, something else came to mind and I nearly came to tears (I kid you not) because one of my (two) biggest issues with The Rise of Skywalker fell away. Ben Solo, the last Skywalker, dying is one of the two, the other is Rey taking the Skywalker name. I wrote shortly after I watched the film.

Why did Rey take the last name Skywalker? She didn’t have the relationship with Luke that warranted it. You know who she DID have the relationship with? Han SOLO. Leia Organa-SOLO. Ben SOLO. Those are the people with whom she had that kind of relationship. The man who DID become like a father to her in a few short days. The woman who did become like a mother to her. The man who was literally the other half of her soul. If she was going to take a name… it should have been Solo. Rey Solo. Taking the name Skywalker, much like going to Tatooine was not in character for Rey, and it wasn’t FOR Rey. It was nostalgia for the Original Trilogy fans (oh, like JJ Abrams). It wasn’t true to the narrative, the character, of the story that has been told over *this* sequel trilogy.

Can you tell I was not happy about it?

Well, something occurred to me and it literally made me gasp. And it came from answering the question of how Rey Nobody still works with Rey as a Palpatine.

She was raised not knowing who she was so she never knew her parents. She never knew her grandfather, never knew anything about Palpatine, what it was like being a part of him, his life, his legacy. Rey was in every essence of what Kylo meant when he called her "nobody." And, no, he wasn't insulting her.

He meant she was a nobody in that no one knew who she was. There were no expectations placed upon her, unlike him. No one expected her to be some great Jedi or great pilot, leader or great anything. She wasn't the child of a general or princess or senator. She wasn't the grandchild of a queen or a different senator or Jedi or a Dark Sith Lord (as far as she knew). She wasn't the niece of a Jedi master. She was nobody so she could be anybody.

Now when Rey finally did find out who her parents and grandfather were, it was only for a short time and with her parents gone—she had no problem denouncing her grandfather. And she chose to become nobody once again... which allowed her to be anybody.

And in the end, she decided to be a Skywalker. After watching the film after its release, I was looking at her reason for doing so being only about her doing that for personal reasons, but Rey would now literally be the last Jedi (and, I’m getting emotional again) and like so many Jedi before her she one must think of what the galaxy needs. Obi-Wan knew that he needed to be struck down by his former pupil so that his son could survive. Luke knew that he had to face his nephew one more time even if it meant using all of his Force energy to save the Resistance. And Rey knew that the galaxy needed the name Skywalker to believe in.

So, when she rejected Palpatine, she became nobody once more. And when she stood on the sands of Luke’s home planet and saw both of her former masters, the Skywalker twins, the mother and uncle of her true love, the children of Anakin Skywalker, the man who had been manipulated and destroyed by Palpatine, she didn’t just reject his name, she rejected his legacy and instead chose to carry on the Skywalker legacy in its place. Because the galaxy didn’t just believe in the Skywalker name. It was the Skywalker name in which the galaxy placed its hope.

It also connects the trilogies at the end in a beautiful way, I think. Rey is the main character in the Sequel Trilogy, Luke for the Original Trilogy and Anakin for the  Prequel Trilogy and by Rey rejecting Palpatine's name and legacy and taking/honoring the Skywalker name it honors Luke and Anakin both.

With Luke, it reinforces what he did in The Last Jedi, showing that he was indeed the legend the galaxy remembered and looked up to from the OT. With Anakin, it kicks Palpy in the ass because he took this young man and used and abused him for his own ends, and Sheev's own granddaughter is choosing Anakin's name, choosing to carry on Anakin's legacy... and not Palpatine's.

Rey was taking on the legacy of the Skywalkers because there were none left and the galaxy NEED the Skywalkers. TLJ showed us that. Broom boy showed us that. The Skywalkers represent hope. Rey is the last Jedi now and keeping the Jedi/Skywalker legacy alive to give the galaxy hope is *exactly* what the last Jedi would do.THAT feels right. It wasn't about saying that Luke and Leia were her parents--because they weren't--but about carrying on the Skywalker legacy, and Ben was a part of that legacy. And *that* is beautiful.

Maybe that’s not exactly what J.J. Abrams and Chris Terrio intended-- the tying of all three of our heroes from each trilogy together like that--but you know what? That is what I get from it now and it really, really works for me.

#tros #rey nobody #rey palpatine #reylo #ben solo #luke skywalker #anakin skywalker #leia organa solo #star wars #the rise of skywalker #I can't believe the ending of tros finally works for me but it does yay!

[ariainstars]

The Rise of Skywalker or Well, It Seems Santa Won’t Come to Us This Year

Warning... this is a long entry.

A satisfying ending to such a universally beloved story after 42 years and 9 episodes, in the hands of one of the most renowned and expert film studios in the world ought to look different. As the final chapter and with the way laid out by Rian Johnson, it could and should have been epic. But for some obscure reason, the Disney studios decided to let JJ Abrams f*** it up royally. As if they did it on purpose.

Honestly, what did we expect? Abrams is a copycat, we saw that with Star Trek, too. He can tell old stories again in a rather fresh way, but he can’t think up anything really good of his own.

  I admit that at first, I didn’t like the sequels much. They seemed adamant to tear down the past, no wonder so many fans got upset. Besides, I was devastated by Han Solo’s death at the hand of his own son.

But then I warmed up to the other characters, and I said to myself that it’s not wrong to start afresh and give a new generation a chance. The old doesn’t become bad because new things come up. And our heroes Han, Leia and Luke had their happy ending; it wasn’t cancelled. It was interesting to think, “What happens after a happy ending?” (For the record, it seems war heroes do not exactly make good parents / uncles. I guess you need other qualities for that.)

  Honestly, I did have a vaguely bad feeling a few weeks before TRoS came out; I couldn’t say why. Anyway, looking back there were a few giveaways that the story would end the way it did.

1. The title: “Rise of Skywalker”. Though the last of the Skywalker blood, Ben technically was a Solo (Organa-Solo to be exact). He did redeem himself, but he did not rise above it all.

2. Kylo’s light sabre is the only one which looks like a cross. Anakin was a child without a father. Both suffered terrible pains and then died - due to other people’s sins.

3. The saga’s themes are many and a lot was set up in Episodes VII and VIII. It was to be expected that one film wouldn’t be enough to wrap everything up. TLJ had a new and fresh approach; but apart from the fact that so many fans hated it, it packed the film so full of new themes and subjects that it took us as fans months to inspect it all. We should have guessed that there wouldn’t be enough time in TRoS to finish the old story, start the next one and wrap that up, too.

4. Circumstances be as they may, Kylo / Ben is still a patricide. He did evil things before, but killing Han definitively damned him. And very many people unfortunately take these films at face value and do not go into depth. If TLJ stirred up a wasp’s nest, I don’t want to know what would have happened if in TRoS he would have been redeemed and had survived, and maybe also found his happy ending. Much as I love him, from a moral standpoint it sounds somewhat ambiguous.

  The Rise of Skywalker assuredly is Star Wars-y. But is that really more important than making good and uplifting films?

Rogue One was so Star Wars-y that fans almost went nuts about it; I still remember my shock when I actually watched it and found it a deeply sad, melancholy story, thematically the exact opposite of A New Hope’s joy and optimism.

Rose was detested by many fans because she was a quirky personality and so unlike Leia: no wonder she almost disappeared. And her relationship with Finn, which was set up as perfectly fitting, vanished as well: no, no, no, we always have a trio in the middle of the story. More than three heroes, that’s not Star Wars-y. Rey’s spunky, sassy personality reminds of Leia, so she is seen as Star Wars-y. And fans couldn’t accept that she comes from nowhere because in Star Wars it has to turn out that you’re related to someone: so she had to be Palpatine’s granddaughter (ugh) and Saint Rey at the same time.

Fans were hurt by Han Solo’s death in TFA, but at least got to see him being cool and swashbuckling. Luke died in TLJ, but as far as I know fans didn’t send a petition to Disney asking to take TFA from canon: they only did so after TLJ. Reason? Because as it seems, they could forgive anything that was done to Han, but not Luke’s green milk.

Ben Solo, the last of the Skywalker blood, was judged an unworthy heir to Darth Vader due to his emotionality, that’s why everybody left him to rot in a pit. Who hated him for being a “whiny sissy” at least will be content now.

  As for us, who have looked more in depth at the saga as a whole and its themes, we can go home with hollow hearts and feeling numb.

  My compliments, JJ. You managed to destroy both the probably most famous and beloved film franchises in less than ten years. And you have spoilt our Christmas.

Worse, you have ruined the franchise for the many, many children who grew up loving Kylo Ren and Rey and rooting for their happy ending together. I have heard that a lot of parents had to bring their kids home weeping. Do you believe they will love the saga now still? They will probably only remember it as a terribly sad story and not want to have anything to do with it ever again. And this from the Disney studios, experts for children’s stories, fairy tales and happy endings. A few days before Christmas. I never would have guessed that making older fanbros happy would be so much more important. At least their heroes had their happy ending, their successes, their friendship. Ben Solo had nothing. And this was the very last episode, so we can’t even hope for the future.

I myself right now don’t know whether I can ever watch anything about Star Wars again. I was so elated, so sure of a happy ending after 9 episodes and 42 years. Now every time I will think about watching something related to SW, I will be reminded of how sadly it all ended. And with no warning, mind you. At least watching the prequels we all knew how it would end.

  Rian Johnson had set everything up beautifully. I can’t believe that Disney studios and JJ can have been so blind as to not see it, they’re supposed to be experts and to be paid for storytelling. To me it was abundantly clear that

- Ben Solo’s redemption were the children (an inversion to the Jedi Temple carnage, and a parallel to Leia’s meeting with the Ewoks where she immediately became motherly)

- Rey would fall to the Dark Side something ugly and then understand that she had no right to judge Ben

- Ben and Rey would be together and have their happy ever after

- They would take care of the children together, learning from their own upbringing to be protective and understanding parents

- Ben would be the Good Father opposite to Darth Vader the Evil Father and this would “finish what he started” (excuse me, why choose an actor for the role who has Vader’s stature but whose features are the exact opposite? Who has repeatedly proven that he deals well with children in films? Why not use his potential??)

- They would start a new Jedi training or academy, where children would no longer be taught to suppress their emotions

- Rey would in this way finally find the family she craved

- Balance would mean a rainbow or a prism, not Black against White, or Grey

  What I still can’t believe

I guess most of you have read some of my meta’s. They were written after thorough researc of the saga’s themes. And I still can’t believe that I got it that wrong.

Yes, as I already wrote above there still is the fact that Kylo / Ben is a patricide and that having him survive after he damned himself like that might have been a bad message. But I still believed that he was in for redemption and survival, and that he was meant to be a father figure.

What about all the messages in TLJ, which all seemed to point to the future?

- The hand-touching scene with the set-up which was exactly opposite to Anakin’s and Padmés wedding? Why did both couples have to end tragically?

- Why were enslaved children introduced in a sympathetic way, the film even ending showing one of them being a Force User and dreaming of being a Jedi? What about Anakin’s promise that he would come back and free the slaves on his planet? That promise was never kept.

- What will become of new Force Users? The last person who was taught both the Jedi and the Sith knowledge is dead.

- Why did Maz Kanata announce to Rey that “the belonging she sought was ahead of her”? She is on the planet that both Anakin and Luke ardently wished to leave. How is that belonging? She knows who she is now, but she is just as lonely and overburdened as when she started. She has not found the family she sought, and she hasn’t founded one of her own. And where’s the ocean she used to dream of?

- Rey had told Ben that “she saw his future”. What future was that? “You will be a hero for ten minutes, have almost all your bones crushed, get a kiss and then die”…?

- Why did Leia ask Han to bring their son home? He saved his soul, but as for finding home, not a chance.

- Luke had promised his nephew that they would see each other again. Nope. And both he and Leia took Rey’s side, abandoning their nephew and son in favor of the offspring of their worst enemy. This is destroying their legacy, not the green milk. Luke panicking and contemplating to kill Ben in his sleep lasted a few seconds. It is not understandable why Luke and Leia should believe in Rey while they were afraid of their own flesh and blood. Because she’s cooler, I guess.

- TRoS destroyed the Jedi’s legacy as well, respectively proved once more what terrible people they were, ready to sacrifice everything for their victory. All of them spoke to Rey, not one to Ben. As if he didn’t even exist. He wasn’t useful to them, that was all.

- After the victory of the Light Side and the Dark Side, logically Balance should have come. Where and how did we ever see this balance? Oh, the bad guy is dead again, that’s good. If at least his granddaughter was dead, then maybe the galaxy would finally have some peace! But that besotted idiot had to resurrect her. Out of love.

- In the end, who won? The Skywalker Curse. The last of their blood is dead. Their name lives on, together with the flesh and blood of Palpatine. As if all had been for nothing.

- Rey is not the winner in this story. She did not inherit the Skywalker name, tokens, emotional support, memories, lessons: she is a usurper just like her grandfather. Except that she didn’t do it on purpose.

- What is the future of the galaxy now? Rey lives, thank to Palpatine’s and the Jedi’s power and Ben Solo’s love. But what is the political future? What became of the First Order? What will become of the future Jedi, or will there be any at all? This whole mess doesn’t seem at all a reason to rejoice.

- What did Anthony Daniels mean when he twittered that the ending of the saga would contain a message for all of us? Almost everybody dies, that’s great, Merry Christmas? ☹

  The Last Jedi was packed full of wonderful messages: you can be a nobody and still carve your way in life, failure is the greatest teacher, war makes unscrupulous people rich, good and bad are made-up words (you blow them up today, they blow you up tomorrow), you have to save what you love not destroy what you hate… and so on. Luke’s lesson explaining that the Force is not some kind of superpower was tremendous and necessary for all fans to hear. His confession of the Jedi’s sins and his decision that they had to end was the right conclusion after all that we learned about Anakin. But alas, the older fanbros hated each and every one of these messages and lessons. Star Wars may be for twelve-year-old, as Lucas once said. But twelve-year-olds are supposed to grow up, some day or other.

The Force Awakens had not promised anything. If you believed that the old trio would be back to kick ass, watch it again. It’s clear from the start that this time it’s up to the next generation. Our heroes had not only grown older, they were visibly tired and disillusioned. And there obviously was a whole baggage of secrets and problems to be unpacked. Did anyone honestly believe Luke would jump right back into the fray, like he was not an exile by own choice but some kind of Robinson Crusoe who simply hadn’t found home again?

The Last Jedi, by comparison, had opened a whole treasure chest of promises for love, hope, future and homecoming. And The Rise of Skywalker spat them almost all into our faces. It almost seems like the petty work of an envious man - like children who mob and publicly humiliate one particular child because it’s more intelligent and has achieved more than them.

  So, what’s the moral for Ben Solo at the end - see to it that you’re not in the wrong place at the wrong time? Don’t trust anyone, not even your own family members, not even the greatest hero of your time?

Anakin won the pod race, he destroyed the star base over Naboo, he became a valiant Jedi, he married the love of his life. He once said, “This is the happiest day of my life.” But apart from a childhood that was probably more or less positive, as far as we know Ben Solo had nothing but pain and sorrow from life. He wasn’t torn from limb to limb and burned alive and then had to live on for decades, but he lost his home, his integrity and his life, merely due to… fate. Twenty years of struggle, frustration, loneliness, anger, death, sorrow and destruction. The only glimpse of hope he saw was in Rey’s eyes as they connected in TLJ, and his only moment of happiness when he sacrificed his life to save her (I will never forget that smile). Reylo was canon for a few seconds… and the SW couple with the strongest chemistry did not even get a love theme. ☹

  I admit I was doubtful whether it would have been a good idea to let Ben survive and be happy after all the bad things he had done. But the message we got now is infinitely worse; and being an abuse victim myself it is a personal hurt to me. So, if you become the victim of abuse because nobody was there to help you, you are doomed and can only escape through death. And we saw nobody grieving for him, no Force Ghost among the others, no grave, no body to burn as in Vader’s case. As if he never existed. Another unsung, unhappy hero without an epitaph like the ones from Rogue One - it seems that viewers liked that, so let’s give them some more of it. Even if we’re called Disney.

  The prequels look positive in this light. At least we always knew they would end as a tragedy, and there was hope in the end. Rey is left with nothing but sad memories. The prequels had a story arc; they told the story they wanted (the tragedy of Anakin Skywalker) in their own way; they were a massive, ambitious project in the style of colossal movies like The Last Day of Pompeji or The Fall of the Roman Empire. In this light they’re pretty good, the OT fans simply didn’t like them because they weren’t Star-Wars-y enough. The sequels tried to patch that up and ironically, the best sequel is the middle one, which was hated by the OT fans for trying to open the way to something new. And maybe the sequels never were meant to make a real wrap-up, to give us a satisfying happy ending; because the more fans protest, the more it will give the studios the chance to explore the possibilities for new stories. It’s in their right, I guess. But nevertheless, it leaves a bitter aftertaste.

  And sorry, this whole story proves to me once more that the Jedi were nothing but petty little f***s who cared only for letting Their Side Win no matter the cost and didn’t care in the least about the human lives and happiness involved. Anakin, Luke and Ben all wanted to be pilots, not Jedi! Anakin’s tragedy was that he had to become a Jedi instead of being himself. His grandson’s tragedy was the same. He was targeted from birth not only by Snoke but also by his uncle and his own mother who saw nothing but his potential for the Force - not a young man like any other who wanted to be happy, to love and belong like everybody else. Only exception, Han. To him, his son was always simply his son, whether he was powerful in the Force or not. No wonder Ben loved Rey to death: after his father she was the only one who ever saw and loved him simply for being himself. The Jedi all spoke to Rey encouraging her to stand up against Palpatine; the last son and heir of the Skywalker was ignored by his own flesh and blood, because to them he was officially “Dark Side” and thus not interesting for the final fight. They did not even care whether Rey died after the victory; the supposed “bad guy” had to come and rescue her. Out of love, not because of her power. And the Jedi are supposed to be some kind of heroes and glowing examples. What a terrible sarcasm.

  Ever heard of the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?

No?

Try the tragedy of Ben Solo the Fucked-Up Loser Who Just Wanted to Be Himself.

  What I hope for…

I want to spend my time in other ways from now on. I will read meta’s and fanfics about Star Wars still, but not so assiduously.

Maybe this entire f***up was a well-planned strategy in order to make us wish and ask for another sequel, so that the Star Wars story can go on like an endless soap opera. And the studios make money while we wait for every single scrap of news.

  And yet, I can’t accept that this was supposed to be all. The saga is at its end, but is Ben Solo really finished?

Rian Johnson confirmed that he is working on a new trilogy. I can only hope that he will pick up the themes which he started in TLJ and finally give us the happy ending we craved. The next film starts in 2022 if rumors are right.

In a way, it is understandable that Ben Solo’s arc had to finish here and without a happy ending: after all he is not a Skywalker but a Solo. In the end, it was not his story. Who knows what the Force has in store for us. 😊

I would love for Johnson to come back and give our hearts what we wanted after Abrams satisfied (it seems) the fanbros of the original trilogy who hated TLJ so much. Everybody would get what he wanted; fans of OT could simply not watch / ignore the continuation and we could root for Kylo / Ben to our heart’s content. I figure that would be a fair compromise. And if it is indeed a trilogy, there would be plenty of time to explore the family / father / mother themes, and create a new life and identity for Ben. (Who, I am saying it again, assuredly deserved better.)

However, that is all in the future. I haven’t a clue what Johnson is planning, I only think that it would make sense if he explored TLJ’s themes more in depth and with more time.

I really want to pester Rian Johnson right now to give us Ben Solo’s story and to make it happy at last. (Pretty please with cherries on top. 😉)

If you are interested, there is already a petition: https://www.change.org/p/lucasfilm-continue-ben-solo-s-story

  What has actually improved for me

1. In my youth I had to spend a large portion of my life under very disagreeable circumstances and I learned to zone out mentally to this or other “dream worlds” as a meaning to cope. (“Dreams Are My Reality” was my song, growing up. 😊) My life is much better now, but the tendency to zone out is still there. Now I remind myself every day that dreaming is good but that no one ought to spend so much time dreaming that his actual life passes him by. I don’t need to escape into dreams any more, I can just enjoy them. So, I feel more grateful.

2. I have learned a lot about myself these two years. I question my intelligence less and I overestimate other people less. I am less timid. I notice that I am calmer and speak slower and do more small talk. The reason: I have realized that many, many people value “coolness” most of all in fictional as well as real people and that one of my main problems is that I am oversensitive and doubtful, similarly to Kylo / Ben. No wonder he’s hated: not so much because “he did so many evil things” but because he is seen as a whiny sissy. (Vader did much worse things, but his “untouchable” attitude made up for it.) I found out that many people mistake a haughty or nonchalant attitude with strength. I don’t need to feel ashamed because I am willing to learn and develop my mind. Anyone who takes me for a fool because of this, it’s his loss. Vader was over-the-top cool, but lonely and miserable. For happiness, we need other humans. Not superhumans.

3. I have spent two very agreeable years exchanging points of view with other fans in this community and I have learned a lot about narratives. I have gone in depth in the Star Wars saga and now I appreciate it much more than before. (I actually consider watching the prequels again to get over TRoS. I never would have believed it if anyone had told me, a few years ago. 😊)

4. I feel closer to my husband. We’ve spent so many evenings apart the last two years because I was elbows-deep in Star Wars! Now we talk more, go out more and watch more films or TV shows together. (BTW, I read many fanfics were Ben and Rey had a playful, teasing relationship. Now I tease my husband more and our marriage is improved. 😊)

5. I used to laugh at who detested TLJ and / or the prequels and to think that who didn’t get the messages was just too lazy to think about them. I do not think that the original characters were ruined in these films at all, but fans who expected them to kick ass until retirement and beyond of course were disappointed. I figured that to make a credible sequel you had to lend more depth to characters and themes and couldn’t just start off again like nothing happened. Most reboots are like this and that’s why they fail: a film is not the same as a TV show. I found Star Wars’ approach more intelligent. But I disrespected other people’s hurt and irritation… and now I find myself in the same situation. I count myself lucky because I waited only 2 years and not 30 years like other hardcore fans.

  We are depressed now and feel that Christmas is ruined. Hardcore OT fans must have felt the same two years ago - I remember quite a lot of meta’s and videos where people vented their rage and frustration, some going so far that they declared they wanted to abandon the franchise for good. They felt betrayed. As do we now: we feel that TLJ set up the stage for a brilliant redemption arc and love / family story, and now here we are, looking like fools.

Maybe next time we ought to be more specific with our wishes. Reylo is canon - what did that mean to you? I never hoped for Ben to be redeemed through Rey’s love, that would have been mushy. But I did of course hope for them to have a Happy Ever After. What did Bendemption mean to you? I of course hoped he would redeem himself and survive. The meanest thing about this film is that it gave us what we hoped for only to take it away again... And differently from the OT fans, we can’t say to ourselves, “Well, there’s still one film to be done, let’s hope it will make up.” Nostalgia has won. Not compassion, or the willingness to look beyond one’s nose.

  Lessons learned

1. Try not to get so worked up about a film. After all, it’s just a story. It’s not our fault if studios, directors and story writers are little sh**s who like to have us build our hopes up and then deflate us.

2. Appreciate the world around you. It’s more complicated and frightening because contrarily to your dreams you can’t keep it in control. But it’s real. It makes you a more real person, and also the ones you interact with.

3. Make your own happy ending. a) That a hero you identified with didn’t get his happy ending doesn’t mean you won’t get yours. If you are already in a satisfying life situation, be grateful for what you have. If you’re not, roll up your sleeves more and do your best to escape reality less. b) Write stories that go the way you would have wanted them to.

4. Start something new to clear your head. A new project you didn’t have “time” for or perhaps not enough courage. Pour your energies into that.

5. Question yourself. Why did this story, these characters intrigue you so? You do not live in the galaxy far, far away after all. If you identify with Kylo / Ben, why? If you would like a partner like him, why? What can you do to implement your wishes into your life?

  If you feel with lonely, misunderstood people, reach out in real life. The prequels were a cautionary tale about a good boy becoming a monster because he was overburdened from early age and left alone with his fears and doubts. Society had created its own monster. Don’t let us contribute to that kind of society.

I was adamant that Ben Solo was supposed to become a caring father figure in TRoS. Ironically, I have no children of myself and I don’t deal well with other people’s: I don’t dislike children, I just don’t have practice with them. If Ben didn’t get the chance to be a loving and caring figure for abandoned children, I think I ought to do something for children myself.

  In the meantime, merry Christmas. We will always have each other. 😊

#episode IX #the rise of skywalker #bendemption #star wars #ben solo #kylo ren #rey #jj abrams #rian johnson #the last jedi #episode VIII #leia organa #luke skywalker #anakin skywalker #han solo #Christmas #DLF #Disney studios #online petition #abuse victim #reylo #film review #darth vader #palpatine #darth sidious #darth plagueis #skywalker family #long rant #long entry #read more

[phosphorescent-naidheachd]

I saw TROS earlier today and, well, it was definitely a Star Wars sequel movie, for better and for worse. I can see why some people on my dash hated this movie and why some of them loved it. I can also see why some of them threw their hands into the air over it and shrugged. (FYI, I’m in the third category.) More scattered and spoiler-laden thoughts below the cut:

--“Never underestimate a droid.” This line would have been so much more meaningful if the spy had turned out to be a First Order droid rather than Hux. A droid that had broken free of its programming, just like Finn (and later Jannah and the other unnamed former stormtroopers). But as always, the Droid Revolution that we deserve is probably never going to be a thing, at least not onscreen where it counts.

--Just like TFA, the copy-and-pasting from the Original Trilogy was painfully obvious, but what was forgivable in the first film of a new trilogy is less so in said trilogy’s concluding film. 

--Trần Loan/Rose deserved more screentime and prominence. And did we really have to turn Poe into a former spice runner? Really? *sighs heavily*

--Zorii Bliss felt sort of shoehorned in? I didn’t hate her, but it felt like TPTB only introduced her to give Poe another person to flirt with. And I say this as someone who was not expecting PoeFinn or any other LGBTQIAP+ relationship between named characters to be made canon in this movie at all. Hopefully fans will give her more depth in fic!

--Jannah was really interesting and I would have loved to see more of her. Once again, hopefully fans will take her character and deepen/explore it in fic.

--LANDO! 

--Finn was all but explicitly confirmed as Force sensitive, and it’s What He Deserves. 

--I mean, Finn also deserved his own storyline and a stronger conclusion to his character arc in this film, especially considering he was promoted as one of the leads of the sequel trilogy. But while I’m irked that he was relegated to a side character, I can’t say I didn’t see this coming, especially after TLJ. 

--Likewise, I knew Reyl0 was going to be a thing after TLJ. I found their relationship less grating than Anida1a in the prequels, but it still didn’t do much of anything for me in this film. Do I understand from an objective POV why some people enjoy it so much? Yep. It’s the grand, tortured, Byronic Romance™, where it isn’t really about whether the characters have anything in common or even like each other, it’s about their near-mystical connection and their inability (and lack of true desire) to be rid of it; it’s about the lengths to which they will go for each other/themselves; it’s about the powerful man who is emotionally vulnerable and eager to serve his True Love at the expense of all else. It’s also the whole enemies-to-lovers trope, and so on. I understand the appeal of this mashup intellectually, it’s just not my cup of tea here. YMMV and all that, and that’s as it should be.

--Palpatine back from death is as ridiculous here as it was in the old EU, but I can roll with it. I think the movie made the right decision not to explain all the nitty-gritty details of how he cheated death or manipulated the whole Snoke deal... ultimately, it doesn’t really matter, y’know? Ditto to Rey Palpatine lol.

--Leia’s death felt pretty narratively cheap to me, but I understand that there was only so much TPTB could do with the footage they already had of Carrie Fisher in costume. Still, poor Leia. She drew a deeply shitty hand in life, didn’t she?

--That said, it was nice to see Leia training as a Jedi in flashbacks, however briefly. (Is it just me, or did her saber hilt vaguely resemble Obi-Wan’s?) Does it make a lot less sense that she would then send Ben away to Luke if she’s had Jedi training? Yes. Can I created headcanons to explain this? Also yes. And do I really care about this particular inconsistency when there are far worse ones out there and this one makes dudebro sections of the fandom spitting mad? NOPE.

--I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m not inherently against the redemption of Kylo/Ben. But, as I had suspected/feared, they “redeemed” him at the narrative expense of other characters I personally find more interesting... and they still didn’t manage to make said redemption feel narratively earned to me. Is there undoubtedly ancillary material in SW books and comics that give more background behind Kylo/Ben’s turn to the Dark Side and eventual turn back to the Light? Yes. Do I want to read it? Not really, no. Also, unless something happens onscreen in the SW universe, it doesn’t really count as true canon. So it’s disappointing that the movie shoved other characters and plots to the side to make room for Kylo/Ben’s redemption arc and then didn’t even do a good job with it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

--Also, of course TPTB had Kylo/Ben die saving someone rather than narratively deal with what it means to work towards redemption after having done lots of terrible things, and having to recover from having been manipulated/groomed by Sidious. Not surprised in the slightest.

--I would have preferred a Stormtrooper Rebellion storyline, but I’m not going to blast TROS or the sequel trilogy for being what it is rather than what I wanted it to be. I will, however, blast it for its sloppy execution of its existing storylines. Which leads to my next point...

--Even though TROS was long, it still felt rushed and, like the first two movies in this trilogy, it felt largely disconnected from the other sequel trilogy films. The Star Wars Story Group really should have planned this trilogy out better. If TPTB were going to go with two different directors/writers, they should have made sure said directors/writers were on the same page rather than seemingly fighting each other’s visions of what the overarching story should be at every step.  

--I’m willing to handwave a lot of stuff that happens in TROS, mainly because I’m long past expecting coherence from this franchise... or pretty much any major franchise, tbh. (For instance: Thousands of people show up to aid the Resistance when Lando calls them but not when Leia did in TLJ? OK. Force Ghost Luke shows up to catch Rey’s lightsaber but not to help her against Palpatine? Sure.) These issues don’t really make or break the series for me, so I can work with them with a minimum of grumbling. Which isn’t quite the same thing as letting TPTB off the hook for their laziness and inconsistencies.

--Honestly, I hate to say it, but it would have made for a stronger story if Chewie had died aboard the ship when Rey and Kylo/Ben were fighting over it; that would have driven home the consequences of Rey’s lack of control and lessened the artificiality of the stakes in this movie. But I get that this is ultimately a family film, so it’s more of a minor quibble than anything else.

--It’s kind of weird that Rey’s hair is back in the three buns again for the entirety of TROS after she wore her hair differently for almost all of TLJ. But that’s a fairly minor quibble too, and one of the sort I can easily create a headcanon to explain. Actually, come to think of it, I wonder if they didn’t do this at least partially to be able to recycle some of the unused TFA clips with Leia and Rey?

--Frankly, I’m not sure why Rey suddenly cared so much about what Luke thought, considering A. he was a huge jerk to her for most of TLJ, and B. she seemed to have broken with following his advice towards the end of TLJ. And since she didn’t have a great relationship with Luke, it seems weird that she’d take his last name. Shouldn’t she have gone with Organa or even Solo, if she’s naming herself after a mentor? But whatever, I get that it’s about the symbolism more than the character or logic. And I can create headcanons to explain all of this.

--It’s a little weird that there wasn’t any more resolution to Kylo/Ben’s storyline and Rey’s feelings about it after his death. But with Leia dead, I guess there isn’t anyone left who’d especially care if Kylo/Ben turned back to the Light aside from Rey herself. Still, there should have been something more. Especially since Ben didn’t show up as a Force Ghost alongside Luke and Leia on Tatooine.

--While I’m at it, I wish we could have had a minute’s conversation with Rey telling Finn about her heritage, if only because I think he would have understood. But I wish we could have learned more about Finn’s heritage (which didn’t need to be a known SW lineage, btw) too, so... 

--For that matter, I wish we could have had Finn get a chance to tell Rey about his being Force Sensitive, which might have made her feel slightly less alone. I wish we could have seen Finn figure out what being Force Sensitive meant to him. And so on.

--Not sure where people are getting the idea that Lando & Jannah were flirting, because I didn’t read their interaction that way at all.

--General Poe and General Finn were great, but also sort of felt unearned after the events of TLJ.

--The abilities that come from being part of a Dyad are overpowered and a little silly, but hey, they’re also following a long-established SW tradition of overpowered silliness, so... *shrugs*

--Confused as to why Rey suddenly killed Kylo/Ben when she did?? I mean, if it was because she was angry Leia had just died, wouldn’t that be acting from the Dark Side and shouldn’t that have, idk, narrative consequences for her?

--I don’t see why some people loved or hated Rey’s ending so much. It’s pretty open, IMO, just like the endings for all of the surviving characters. Who says Rey is going to stay on Tatooine or be alone there, after all? For all we know, she just stopped there for a few days to bury the lightsabers, grieve for Kylo/Ben, and meditate. For all we know, Finn or one of her other friends from the Resistance is going to drop in any moment now. Heck, for all we know, one of her friends is hanging out inside the Falcon where we can’t see them, giving her a little space. (Was her friendship with Finn and Poe depicted pretty shallowly in this movie? Yeah. But so was her relationship with Kylo/Ben tbh, even with the Dyad Force bond thingamajig.) Rey has a whole world of choices available to her. Does it suck that we didn’t get to see that onscreen? Yeah. Does it mean she’s doomed to be eternally lonely as a hermit on a desert planet? Not in the slightest.

--Someone really needs to tell the writers of these big franchises that using ring structure is pointless if there isn’t meaning behind it. There’s nothing inherently significant about repeating events or revisiting locations. 

--Overall, I felt pretty meh about TROS. I didn’t love it or hate it. As with any movie in a series, there’s good stuff to be mined from it, and bad stuff to be handwaved away or given headcanon explanations. But mostly, I just can’t dredge up the energy to care very much. And I’m not in the mood for TROS fix-it fanfiction so much as I am TROS crack fics. 

--I haven’t talked about everything that worked or didn’t work for me in TROS here, but if you have any questions, I’m always happy to answer them to the best of my abilities!

#1~~ #2~~ #3~~ #4~~ #5~~ #phos reviews #swtros #star wars #star wars sequels #star wars spoilers #swtros spoilers #rey #finn #poe dameron #rose tico #kylo ren #ben solo #leia organa #luke skywalker #lando calrissian #sheev palpatine #darth sidious

[reylofanfictionanthology]

The Reylo Fanfiction Anthology St. Valentine’s Day Love Fest

This year, to celebrate St. Valentine’s Day, we wanted to show the Reylo Writing Community a little bit of love by hosting a Reylo Fanfiction St. Valentine’s Day Love Fest.

We will accept recommendations for this project until the end of February. You can find details about how to submit a recommendation to the project here.  

Love Fest List #4/?

Reylo Community Recommendations

the star to every wandering bark by addictedtoacertainlifestyle

Summary: There is something else as well, an instinctual drive that’s making him go, almost calling Ben to Takodana; much like an idea for a novel, a terribly persistent and gnawing thought at the back of his mind that will not go away until he does something about it. A change of scenery is always good for one’s mind. By alternating one’s perspective the reality might change as well. When Ben Solo travels to Takodana in the name of his second novel, meeting an impossibly intriguing woman named Rey wasn't exactly what he envisioned. But the universe has a funny way of working things out.

Recommendation by LilibethSonar: “It's a lovely take on the soulmates trope.”

Garden of Light and Darkness by ArdeaJestin

Summary: When Lord Mellowyn of Birren dies without an heir, the governorship passes on to his closest relative, Leia Organa. Yet she decides to cede it to her own son instead, in the hopes that it will give him the political acumen he so desperately needs. Determined to prove himself and bring young blood to the tranquil, aging planet, Ben Solo recruits members for his new guard on Jakku, where his father fell in battle years before...

Recommendation by LilibethSonar: “It's a fairytale-like canonverse AU with rich worldbuilding.”

Calligraphy and Atonement by @politicalmamaduck

Summary: Ben Solo spends his time in exile trying not to think of Rey and keeps failing.

Recommendation by Ceallaigh: “Love this quiet look at Ben Solo serving his sentence in exile. It’s quiet in its healing. I love fica that show glimpses into Rey and Ben’s evolving relationship where their collective defenses slowly slip away and trust is forged. This is a beaitiful and nurturing relationship in its infancy. Their loneliness is palpable, and the love that grows is truly beautiful.”

Safe Haven by @leofgyth

Summary: Rey is trapped by a storm, and her favorite time traveling friend drops by to keep her company.

Recommendation by @persimonne: “It's a time travel AU, Older!Ben meets Teenage!Rey and they're friends”

Interrogation by @leofgyth

Summary: Ben jumps to Rey one last time before the first time they meet in person. Then they meet in person. An alternative interrogation scene. A direct follow-up to Safe Haven.

Recommendation by @persimonne​: “This is the best first time for Rey I've ever read! Very sweet and hot.”

Wintertide by Zabeta

Summary: It was important work, gathering fuel for the Burning of the Ren, though only an outcast like the Scavenger could do it. The ceremony marked the turning of one year into the next, and ensured the light would come again to drive back winter’s darkness. The good Queen had tried to change the ancient rite, to mark the year without the loss of one more soul from their war-torn land. But in the ten years since her decree, the disasters sweeping over them had only multiplied. Famine, flood, unearthly winds and the summer’s fires had torn at people’s goodness, and the refugees that sought the Queen’s peace had only taxed it more. When a Wizard suggested that only human sacrifice would appease the angry spirits, the people listened, and demanded a real Ren for the fire.

Recommendation by @leofgyth: “It's like the perfect Reylo fairy tale. The plot is intriguing, sw canon is incorporated in really interesting ways, there is *angst*, and it's just beautifully written.”

RFFA Writers Self Recommendations

Listen Up, Kid by shewhospeakswiththunder

Summary: The ghosts of Supreme Leader Kylo Ren’s past are back to haunt him with a vengeance. A well-meaning, familial kind of vengeance. Or, A Star Wars Carol. 

“I love this fic because it helped me to grow as a writer, and I think the themes in it ring true for the SW community. Besides, the snarky humor is some of my best dialogue!”

Bewitched by Rhonda3Green

Summary: Ben's ship breaks down and he has to land on a forest-covered planet. A mysterious sorceress named Rey is waiting for him and tells Ben he is to take part in her initiation ritual.

“I enjoyed writing the combination of witch!Rey and smuggler!Ben along with indulging my love of Reylo exhibitionism kink!” 

behind sealed lips by murakamism

Summary: Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe this is going to be the scandal of the galaxy. But Ben Solo has never been good at being a proper Jedi, and Rey of Jakku has never been your average senator.

“It's my ode to the Star Wars canonverse world. Ben is an improper Jedi and Rey is an improper Senator; they're in a secret relationship and go on space adventures. I think anyone who likes the dynamics or fun action of the PT or the EU will enjoy it :)”

Collide by @benisolo

Summary: Every night, Kylo's dreams were haunted by the all-seeing eye of spiralling galaxy. He watched as the stars circled closer and closer to the universe’s center; Kylo couldn’t help but wonder when they would collide. Perhaps, millions of light years away, they had already collided into a triumphant supernova. Was the light he now basked in just an entire universe’s phantom? Was he this swirling galaxy? Since Rey cut their bond, Kylo’s facade remained in place. But like that galaxy, all that was left of Kylo’s soul was the memory of what had once been there. The spiraling emotions in his heart had collided long ago, at a fingertip brush.

“This was my first multichapter fic and the first fic I ever submitted to RFFA, so it has a special place in my heart. It is an EPIX speculation fic. One reason I love it is the way I characterized Kylo; he is much more in tune with the darkside of his personality in this fic, since he is still seething over Rey’s rejection of him. The fact that he is so scorned and upset at the beginning makes his redemption arc in the fic that much more powerful. This fic has smut, angst, action, spaceship battles, and even a bit of fluff... everything you could need!”

#reylo #reylo fanfiction anthology #valentine's day love fest #rffa writers #love fest list #photo edit #mod post

[racefortheironthrone]

How I Would Fix the SW Prequels

So I’ve been listening to School of Movies’ We Need to Talk About Anakin episode, and it reminded me that, while I’ve discussed this with friends and acquaintances in DMs, I’ve never actually written out this idea I had a while back for how you could fix the Star Wars Prequels.

Because in the wake of all the sturm und drang over TLJ, I feel like it’s worth noting that the failures of the Prequels were largely ones of execution rather than intent or conception and I think a very few changes could have made it a worthy addition to the larger universe.

Change #1: Make Anakin Older

No offense at all to Jake Lloyd, because why torture someone their entire life because they weren’t good at acting when they were nine years old (almost no one is any good at that age), but I think one of the major problems with the series was that Anakin starts out too young, which causes all kinds of character and world-building problems in all three movies. Instead of being 8-9 years old, Anakin should show up in Episode I as a teenager. 

This one change does a lot:

To start out with, it creates a better thematic parallel with the original trilogy (and now the new trilogy too) - we meet Anakin when he’s around the same age as Luke Skywalker in A New Hope, and around the same age as Rey in The Force Awakens. They’re all teenagers who dream of the stars but are held in place until something arrives to change their world forever.

Next, it gives the audience a way into how the character is similar to and different from our other protagonists: like Luke, Anakin is a teenager scraping out a life on a backwater desert planet, and because he’s a teenager, and like Luke all Anakin cares about is space street racing (because American Graffiti). But whereas Luke is a good if slightly whiny kid with a decent home life, Anakin is a bit of a wild kid. He hates being a slave, hates that his master makes money off his talents but won’t ever let him win his freedom, throws fists when people say he’s a cheat, etc. You can already get the sense that he’s got a bit of the Dark Side in him already - this will help later on in the Trilogy, as I’ll explain in due course.

After that, it makes his other relationships make more sense: instead of the creepy age gap which means that we start with Amidala as a teenager caring for a child which makes their relationship in Episode II harder to accept, the two meet as peers in a shared period of struggle, which promotes an instant bond and explains why both of them would be interested in rekindling the relationship a short few years later. Likewise, instead of Obi-Wan pretty much raising Anakin, they’ve got more of an older/younger brother dynamic which helps to explain why Obi-Wan would decide to and struggle with mentoring someone not that much younger than himself. 

Finally, it makes the Jedi Order no longer insane or evil. If an eight or nine-year old is too old to be trained, than the Jedi are basically stealing babies and raising them to be ascetic warrior-monks with no experience of the world. However, if Jedi are supposed to be trained from late childhood, so that they have control over their powers when the intense emotions of adolescence hit so as to not fall to the Dark Side or hurt people around them inadvertently, that seems like a sensible precaution. 

Change #2: Bring the Sith in Earlier

I strongly believe that having the fall of the Republic political narrative be a central part of the Prequels was a good idea, since part of what you need to explain is why the Republic fell and the Empire took over. The execution, however, was less good. And part of that is that there’s a pretty hard swerve from local conflicts over tariffs and blockades and trade federations to the rise of the Emperor, so the initial reason for the Jedi to get involved in Naboo never makes much sense and the stakes of the conflict with the droid armies is too low to carry us through the trilogy. 

So instead of going to Naboo to negotiate over trade, have Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan investigate whether the Sith are behind the rising Separatist movement. I would jettison the whole Rule of Two thing, because it doesn’t make sense that an entire Jedi Order of thousands of Jedi would think two Force-users are a galaxy-wide threat, and replace it with the idea that the Sith operate in independent cells of a master and two pupils (because Rule of Three) who go on to found their own cells, in a combination of pyramid scheme and underground organization, this hidden, omnipresent threat operating everywhere and nowhere at once.

This does a couple things:

it better explains why the Jedi are so concerned with the Sith, and provides a longer-term explanation for the downfall of the Republic: rather than promoting the health of the Republic, the Jedi became obsessed with hunting down signs of Sith activity, which made different groups in the galaxy see their supposed defenders as violent religious fanatics, and allowed more subtle Sith like Palpatine to corrupt the Republic from the shadows. (And rising fear and hatred strengthens the Dark Side of the Force...)

It gives a clear through-line from the trade conflict at Naboo to the Separatist/Clone War to the fall of the Republic: in each movie, the Jedi are looking to see whether the SIth are secretly behind some threat to the Republic. In Episode 1, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan encounter Darth Maul, who seems to prove that the Sith were involved, but they don’t find out who his master was; in Episode 2, Obi-Wan and Anakin are fighting the separatist movement, which Count Dooku’s involvement “proves” to be Sith-inspired, and the Clone War kicks off with Sith groups popping up all over the galaxy; in Episode 3, the Republic falls to a military coup that could only succeed because of the military build-up. 

It provides better context for Anakin’s fraught relationship with the Jedi Order: Qui-Gon is convinced that the self-taught Anakin is the Chosen One because the threat of the Sith makes the prophecy that much more important, the Jedi Order don’t trust Anakin because they’re afraid that he’s a Sith infiltrator, and it gives a better reason for Anakin to turn against the Jedi if he comes to see them as paranoid and oppressive.

And this also fits in with what a big part of Anakin’s arc should be about, without everything having to be about his romance with Amidala. If Anakin was already a teenage prodigy when the Jedi found him, he’s already started using the Force (although he doesn’t intiially know what he’s doing) and using his emotions to give him strength, and Anakin should be especially good at the very physical stuff that the Dark Side is strong in: using the Force to speed up his reaction time, shoving boulders out of the way during Pod Races, etc. 

And so when Anakin becomes a Jedi in his own right, he should start making the argument that “balance” means using both the Light and the Dark Sides of the Force (which is also a nice thematic parallel to both Luke and Rey). This should gain him some acolytes, especially during the Clone War when fighting Sith makes some Jedi fight fire with fire, which helps explain how Darth Vader is later able to hunt down almost the entire order, but it also gives the Jedi a reason to fear him and even Obi-Wan a reason to doubt him, and a central tension: will Anakin maintain his precarious balance or fall? (It also sets up a nice parallel once again: Anakin chooses the dark over the light, Luke the light over the dark, Rey is the synthesis.) It’s a hell of a lot better than him being a fledgling fascist or fridging his mother to give him a reason to go bad. 

Change #3: Give Amidala More To Do

Speaking of the political plot, one of the things that would give the political plot more meaning for the viewer is to give a lot more of it to Amidala and have her be more active in it. While Amidala gets to do some stuff - in Episode 1 she calls for a vote of no confidence in the previous Chancellor, bringing Palpatine to power, and works out an alliance with the Gungans; in Episode 2 she’s attacked and doesn’t actually get to act against the rising militarization of the Republic, although she does get to fight on Geonosis (which is a bit of a thematic contradiction), and then everything else is the romance; and then in Episode 3, she’s not allowed to do much. 

Rather than this mish-mash, I’d have Amidala’s main arc in the Prequels be the foundation of the Rebel Alliance: have her be actively whipping votes against the creation of a standing army and the granting of emergency powers in Episode 2 (good time to bring in Bail Organa and Mon Mothma earlier and have them do more) and doing more to uncover the behind-the-scenes machinations that are driving the conflict; have her try to uncover Palpatine’s crimes and bring him to justice in Episode 3, only to be too late, and decide instead to create the Rebel Alliance, etc. 

This also gives a better explanation for why the romance between her and Anakin falls apart without the need for Tuskan ethnic cleansing or wanton child murder: as Anakin gradually falls to the Dark Side through a combination of “ends justify the means” and fear/resentment for the Jedi, Amidala moves in the opposite direction as she fights against this same mentality in the increasingly militarized Republic and begins to see Palpatine as the true threat. 

#star wars #star wars meta #the prequels

[obiwan824]

Scare- Poe Dameron x Reader

A/N: Sorry for not posting in so long!! I made up a character to be the traitor using one of those name-generator-thingys for SW! His name is Volo Vox, I believe.

Requested by anon

Request: hi i love your writing! i would like to request a one shot where the reader tries to stop a traitor! resistance member by following them to stop them, reader successfully stops the traitor but she realizes that the ship is doomed and about to crash somewhere and reader is needs to say goodbye and confesses to poe dameron through the intercom (kinda like how steve and peggy did hehe) reader is presumed to be dead but the next she arrives half alive at the resistance base

“You can’t do this.”

Y/N didn’t spare him a glance as she shoved the broken doors of her X-wing open and squeezed through the tiny slit she’d created. “This isn’t up to you.”

“Y/N, this is a suicide mission! Vox knows how to fly. He can get away, and he can destroy your little ship with the click of a button.”

“I thought you believed in me,” she said suddenly, turning to look at him through the crack in her X-wing. “You used to say I was the, what, ‘second best pilot in the Resistance,’ right?”

Poe stared at her in disbelief. “That was before you tried to throw your life away over some stupid traitor. He doesn’t matter, Y/N, you need to stay here. The Resistance is on lockdown until-”

“Until we flee.” she paused, knowing how to hit him hardest. “Until we get in the tiniest little transports we can find with just the clothes on our backs and what we can fit in the storage units and fly off to a new place, barely surviving. Until we run. We’ll lose everything, Dameron, how can you be okay with this?”

“My first duty is to-”

“The Resistance,” she finished, eyes cold. “I thought you were better, Dameron. I thought breaking rules for justice, for the greater good, was your thing. I thought you would have dropped everything at the slightest notion that something was wrong just to save one person.” Y/N bit her lip. “Well, this is more than one person, Dameron. This is all of us. I thought you cared about everyone more than yourself, and that’s what I admired in you.” She looked him up and down, her lips pursed. “I guess I was wrong about you, too.”

Poe felt a pain in his chest like someone had shot him, but this was worse. He’d been shot before. This was new, this was something, somehow, worse, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He turned his head away, deciding to try something new. “I know Vox hurt you. He hurt us all. Don’t you dare compare me to him.”

“A traitor’s a traitor,” she murmured, settling down in the cockpit chair. Poe could barely see her through the tiny crack in the door.

“You didn’t know Vox like I did,” Poe said, wincing at how angry he sounded. “He always showed signs, this wasn’t a surprise. He doesn’t know much. It’s not worth it to go after him.”

“He’s a hacker. I knew him, he was my mechanic for a while.” Y/N looked down at her console, unable to face Poe. She wiped at a stray tear in her eye, wanting to hide her weakness for the traitor as long as she could. “He could enter First Order systems like nobody’s business, but nobody ever used him. He could have hacked us easily. There’s no way we’ll be safe if he gets that information to the First Order.”

The words hit Poe and numbed him, leaving him slack-jawed and wide-eyed at the entrance to her X-wing. Before he could work out anything, she had taken off, leaving him in the fog of her ship.

His commlink buzzed against his waist and a voice came out of it.

“Commander Dameron, we are unable to get a signal to the undocumented ship that just left. General Organa requests your presence immediately.”

Poe watched her X-wing leave for a moment more, just a speck against the galaxy before he realized where his loyalties really lay. With a smile, he shut off his communicator and began to walk back to the base- if Y/N was going to go out there, he had to keep her safe.

…

As Poe hovered over the console, waiting for something, anything, waiting for something but not quite knowing what, a million thoughts raced through his head. Whether she was okay, whether she had found the traitor or not. Whether she would forgive him when she came home.

“Commander Dameron!” someone shouted, and Poe glanced over his shoulder. When he heard her voice, coming muffled from the speaker in their console, he ran over, not caring what he knocked down in his path.

Poe slammed his hand on the microphone button. “Commander, Commander Y/L/N. Are you there?”

“I’m here,” Y/N’s staticky voice emerged once more. He heard the sound of war, of screaming ships and blaster shots flying and her heavy breathing. “I’ve got him.”

“Commander, be careful.” Poe bit his lip, looking at the floor. “Get Vox and get out of there. Nothing risky. Your life is more important.”

“Sure thing, Dameron,” she teased, and at her light, joking tone, he knew he was forgiven. He relaxed somewhat, letting his shoulders fall, and exhaled. When he heard her scream, he paled.

“Commander? Commander, are you still with us?”

There was a long pause as her microphone went out before she returned.

“Still here. I’ve got him- I just need to-”

The microphone went out just more, leaving the members of the Resistance stiff and worried. Poe stared at the console for a long moment before he slowly backed away.

“She’ll be fine,” he called to the room, though it was more for his own comfort. “No need to worry.”

After what felt like hours of Poe standing there, eyes closed, chewing on his lip, her voice finally returned. Now, though, he heard the peaceful sounds of an empty galaxy and a faint whistle.

“Commander?”

“I got him,” she said. From the tone of her voice, Poe could imagine the easy grin on her face. He let out a laugh as his tension melted away, and one Lieutenant clapped him on the back as they cheered. “There’s a slight problem though- nothing serious, nothing I can’t fix.”

The microphone went out once more.

“Commander Dameron?” Lieutenant Connix glanced at him, her eyes filled with worry. “Do you think she’s alright?”

Poe paused. “Of course. She wouldn’t lie to us, I’m sure she’s fine.” When Y/N’s voice returned, it was fuzzier than ever before.

“Dameron!” her voice was panicked, filled with fear.

“Commander, we’re right here.” “I’m crashing. Vox busted my ship too badly, it’s going down, some planet in the Outer Rim.”

Poe tried to stay calm. “Y/N, we have your coordinates right here. Can we get ships over there in time?”

“It’s not worth it.” there was a pause. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Don’t give up now, Y/N-” he couldn’t help the way hysteria was creeping into his tone. “Don’t give up.”  

He heard her hiss. “Damnit. Dameron, there’s no hope. I need to tell you something.”

“Don’t- don’t talk like that-” Poe rubbed at his eyes furiously, not wanting to fall apart in front of his friends and colleagues. “You’ll be fine.”

“I won’t. Listen to me.” she paused, and he braced himself. “I love you, Dameron. I have for as long as I can remember. I’m sorry.”

Before he could reply, there was a scream and the commlink went out.

Poe stared at it for a long, pained moment of silence before he ducked his head down, holding back tears. He chewed his lip anxiously, a numbness creeping into his heart, cold and cruel. When he glanced up, it seemed as if everyone was frozen in place, staring at him.

“Don’t look at me,” he muttered bitterly, beginning to leave the room. “I’m going to sleep.”

…

The next morning was peaceful, calm, a warm sense of sweet relief seemed to take over the Resistance base. Poe thought it was a disgrace to have such a lovely day when Y/N wasn’t by his side.

He barely managed to get himself out of bed. He hurried in the refresher, not bothering to clean up, and threw on the first outfit he saw. He clipped his commlink onto his belt and pushed a blaster next to it, leaving his flight suit behind. Today wasn’t the kind of day for flying.

A part of him wondered whether he’d ever fly again.

He entered the bridge, finding people laughing, talking, the bubbly, energetic feeling of the room creating an atmosphere so foreign and strange to Poe. They froze when he entered, their eyes wide and filled with concern. He brushed past anyone who tried to speak to them, slumping in a corner, unfocused gaze trained on a random display.

Suddenly, someone began to shout.

“Unknown ship entering the planet!”

Poe perked up instantly, jumping off the wall and bounding over to the Lieutenant.

“What kind of ship? Are our scanners picking it up?”

She studied it, narrowing her eyes. “Unclear.”

A part of him wondered if it was her, hoped it was her, however unlikely it may be. He watched carefully as cameras began to show the ship in detail.

“It’s an X-wing,” he murmured, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Looks pretty beat-up too. Stay on your guard.” Poe’s fingers danced over the keys in a rhythm so familiar to him until the camera zoomed in on the windows of the ship. His lips formed a thin line. “It- it looks like-”

“Commander Y/L/N,” someone spoke up.

And like that, Poe was gone. Before he even realized he was running, he found himself outside the base where the banged-up X-wing landed shakily on a concrete landing strip. He brightened, a smile coming to his lips as the door swung open, promptly falling off, and Y/N poked her head out, her eyes lighting up.

“Y/N?”

There was a pause. “Dameron?”

His mind, filled with confusion that fogged his brain, barely registered her running towards him before she crashed into his chest, clinging to him, and his arms wrapped around her instinctively.

“You’re alive,” he breathed, letting his eyes flutter closed. His fingers came up to tangle in her hair, pulling her closer still. “How can you be alive?”

“I knew how to survive a crash landing,” she whispered against his chest, smiling at her own accomplishments. “Thanks to a certain pilot teaching me a thing or two.”

Poe let out the tiniest laugh before he pulled back. “I- I love you too.”

And then his lips were on hers, her hands were looped around his neck and his hands came to rest on her waist once more, a perfect set of gears, moving in perfect synchronization.

“I love you,” Y/N told him when they separated.

Poe softened, smiling at her. “Never scare me like that again.”

She took his hand and he squeezed it, his thumb exploring the calluses and cuts running up and down her fingers. “No promises, Dameron.”

 He looked her up and down, squinting. “How hurt are you?” He took in the way her leg bent at the wrong angle, a large cut going through her shirt.

 “Not too injured. Some major stuff, I guess, but nothing we can’t fix.” Y/N smiled up at him. “Right?”

 He exhaled, shoulders drooping. He let her lean on his shoulders and began to half-carry her limping form to the medbay. “Right.”

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron reader insert #poe dameron fanfiction #poe x reader #dameron x reader #star wars reader insert #star wars x reader #the force awakens x reader #the last jedi x reader #nick writes #anatole queueagin

[onwardintolight]

Have you had a chance to read Last Shot yet? If so what did you think?

Yes I have! I finished it the day before yesterday, and I really enjoyed it, despite a few qualms.

I especially liked Han’s emotional journey as he comes to terms with being a parent. I’m dumbfounded at how a lot of people (*cough* Reylos) have used this book to argue that Han was a terrible parent and even to insinuate that he abandoned Ben, when clearly that’s anything but the case in the book. (It’s also not the case in any canon book or source material. Le sigh.) I think a lot of people have already addressed this though, and I’ll reblog some good stuff about that later, so that’s all I’ll say on this ridiculous assertion for now. 

Anyway, I thoroughly enjoyed watching Han grow as he wrestles with his fear and insecurity, learns how to simultaneously be a dad and follow his passion, and starts to really find his place during this new time after the war. I’m sure I’ll struggle similarly if/when I become a mom someday; I can’t imagine how daunting it would be for Han, having never had a family of his own. I thought his struggles were really sympathetically and beautifully portrayed. 

It’s made abundantly clear that his love for Leia and his son knows no bounds — in fact, that’s exactly why he’s struggling so much in the first place. He wants to be what they need and is afraid that maybe he isn’t; maybe he’s not equipped to be the “perfect” dad, whatever that is. And he finds out that, no, he may not know everything there is to know about parenting, but that’s okay —he’s trying and learning, along with Leia, and he loves them deeply, and that’s what matters. Moreover, his passion for flying isn’t something that he has to give up in order to be a husband and dad. Both can exist at the same time. He can be true to himself and a family man.

I did find it irritating, however, that they show Han as struggling with all this, but Leia seems to automatically know everything there is to know about motherhood (@inelegantprose​ has said some good things about this). This to me reeks of sexism. Yes, Leia had a family growing up, but she had no Organa siblings and I can’t imagine she was ever surrounded by very many babies, lol. The birth of a child would raise a whole lot of fears and insecurities for her, as much or even more so than Han — particularly when taking into account the knowledge of who her real father was. 

The book says that Ben’s arrival “seemed to light up the whole world when he’d first arrived: this simple impossible sliver of hope amid so much death and destruction.” I like that idea, and I could imagine they both felt that, profoundly. All the same, I think it’s likely that while Ben was dearly loved and celebrated, he wasn’t planned, and if Leia had had the opportunity, she would not have chosen to get pregnant (at least not yet), fresh off the revelation of her bloodline. (Although I also think it’s entirely possible she was just pushing that information away during this time, denying it and not dealing with it because it was too hard to accept.) 

Anyway, I wish the book had showed some of Leia’s parenthood struggles, too, and not set her up to be such a natural supermom. However, I’ll concede these points: 1) This book is entirely centered on Han and Lando and their inner journeys, not Leia’s. 2) Leia admittedly has had a WHOLE lot of practice at looking poised and put together, no matter what’s she’s going through (something the book even mentions). 3) While I believe the author could have done a better job and portrayed it in a less sexist way, there’s still a lot of room to guess at what’s really going on in Leia’s mind. 4) At least this is less fodder for Kylo stans, I guess? Consequently, I’m not as upset as I might be otherwise.

My opinions of the characterizations in this book varied greatly. Most often, I felt like there was a remarkable sensitivity to the characters’ emotional worlds that rang true. And that, to me, is what matters most. Still, there were bits of dialogue and action that just didn’t feel right to me, and, like in some of the comics, the characters at times seemed rather like extreme caricatures of themselves. For instance, Han’s tendency to run things by the seat of his pants doesn’t mean he’s always spontaneous or unprepared. He came off as rather clueless at times, which I think does him a great disservice. He also came off  as overly gruff and terrible at communicating, which I think he is to an extent, but not nearly as much as this book makes him out to be. Also, just because Leia calls people names in ANH and ESB when she’s really upset doesn’t mean she calls everyone names all the time (as a sidenote, I found some of the names she called people in this book a little odd. Calling Han “you old lug” or “old man”?…I’m just not feeling it).

That being said, overall, I felt like Han and Leia’s interactions in this book were an absolute delight. There are several scenes and exchanges that I will treasure. I don’t want to spoil them, so I won’t go into too much detail here. I also appreciated that, while Leia’s motherhood struggles were not acknowledged, her trauma very much was. There were a few little hints and snapshots into that from both conversations and Han’s reflections that I thought were extremely well done (and left me with a whole ton of feelings).

Similar to how I felt about the characterizations, I’m kind of back and forth on the plot itself. Overall I enjoyed it, but there were three storylines going on in three separate timelines, and the fact that they were all mixed around throughout the book, while involving some of the same main characters, made it a little confusing for me. I felt like there were some leaps of logic, too, that were perplexing. However, this entire impression could be due to the fact that my brain was rather foggy the night I read most of it. Who knows, a second read-through might make it all fall into place! Moral of the story: don’t binge-read this book when you’re half-asleep. ;) 

I really loved the exploration of droid rights, and what that actually means, although I felt like there could have been a lot more said on the subject.

I’m thrilled we got a Latinx POC author for Star Wars. I’m sure there’s a lot I’m missing (do I have any Latinx followers who can tell me more?), but I appreciated the representation and perspective. Also certain little details, like the fact that there was an Alderaanian character who clearly speaks with a Spanish accent (putting an e- before a word starting with st-, for example) — more evidence for a Hispanic Alderaan! 

Speaking of representation, off the top of my head, I can think of a non-binary person, a gay person, and many people of color, including main characters (and not just Lando). On a much lesser note, I also appreciated the fact that a lot of aliens were represented too!

I loved Lando’s journey in regards to his relationship with Kaasha; exploring what it means to be his scoundrelly self and yet be committed to one person.

I really loved the look into Han and Lando’s pasts with the storylines set ten years before. There’s one element in particular that got me from the outset, which I’ll write briefly about under the cut so as not to spoil anyone.

All this continues to give me great hopes for the Solo movie, and that they’ll approach these characters with sensitivity and complexity (as well as fun).

TL;DR: This book was probably a 7 out of 10 for me — I enjoyed it quite a bit, though it doesn’t come near to replacing some of the other new canon SW books for me (of which Bloodline still tops the list). I had mixed feelings about certain things but overall I’m happy about this addition to canon! I strongly encourage you, if you have any interest at all in new canon, to ignore the ridiculous Kylo-apologist discourse and give this book a shot!

(warning: spoilers under the cut!)

The part I was talking about that really got to me was when we first meet Han 10 years prior. As the scene opens, we find Han nursing a hangover and a broken heart over a girl (he never says her name). While he eventually gets over it, we are given a poignant window into Han’s big heart and sensitive soul underneath the rough exterior. He can’t help but love people. He can’t help but be absolutely devastated at their loss. He’s lonely and constantly striving for human connection (we see this later in how he relates to Sana and develops a rather silly, sudden rebound crush on her). He tends to go all in, despite himself and the risk, and consequently, he ends up getting hurt a lot. THIS MAKES ME FEEL A LOT OF THINGS. Gaaaah I love Han Solo, okay? It hurts to see him hurting, but it also makes my heart so happy to know that someday, he’ll find the belonging he so desperately seeks.

#Last Shot #Star Wars: Last Shot #Daniel Jose Older #Han Solo #Lando Calrissian #Leia Organa #SW books #SW meta #Star Wars #book review #thanks for the ask #I probably wouldn't have had the motivation to write all this unless you asked but I'm glad now that I did #I hope that it's helpful #thoughts

[swfanficbyjz]

SW Rey Theory - Legacy of Light - Chapter 24

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(Within the 1st year or two after Return of the Jedi, 10 years later)

           “Han! Leia! Chewie!” Starkiller watched as Luke excitedly hugged his sister and the others. In her arms was a baby. The baby. He’d been training Ashla for months, but she remained infuriatingly light. Even though he had managed to move her away from the idea of telling Luke they were related. After that first day, she’d decided that it was better not to tell him, and he’d done his best to keep them apart. In fact, the reason she wasn’t here right now was because he’d sent her on a training mission. He’d known that Leia Organa was bringing her new baby to visit. There was still the chance to turn her, but now that he felt this child, he was certain it was the one that would fulfill Darth Vader’s destiny. Compared to Ashla though, and even to Luke and his sister, it was weak in the force. It was still young; some people took longer to come into their power than others, but admittedly he was disappointed. Vader’s bloodline was being sullied by the weak. His grandchild should have been magnificent. 

          At least that wasn’t the end of the plan. Sidious’ journals provided a way to siphon someone’s power. He’d already been experimenting with it and was certain he’d mastered it enough to help this child reach its full potential. The advantage to Ashla not knowing how powerful she truly was, meant that he could steal from her pool of power and she’d never notice. In fact, all he had to do now was get something from this child and he could start working on transferring the power to it. It would be a slow process, but they had the time. He had to be careful to not take too much from Ashla or give too much to the child before it was ready.

          It was time to get to work. He plastered on the fake overly enthusiastic smile and headed their way. “Welcome!” he reached out his hand for them to shake. “You must be the sister I hear so much about. I’m Galen Snoke.” The child started fussing the moment he got close. Maybe it was stronger than he’d given it credit for.

          “Hello,” she replied, bouncing to comfort the baby in her arms. “I’m Leia and this is my husband, Han. And our good friend Chewbacca.” She made a funny face at the child trying to soothe it. “And this is Ben, but he’s a little cranky right now apparently.” She smiled apologetically at him as Luke fussed over his nephew. 

          “Do you mind if I try something? Back before the war I was a bit of a baby whisperer. I learned all sorts of tricks to calm them down. Babies are very sensitive to the force, even if they don’t end up being a user. He can probably feel the energy here and it’s disconcerting to him,” he offered casually, smiling reassuringly at her. She looked tired. New babies will do that to you.

          “Oh, uh, sure. It’s worth a shot.” She carefully handed Ben over to him. He smiled down at the baby, knowing that soon enough this child would be the leader of the new world order. The boy tipped its head back and bawled so he spoke softly to it, bouncing in a hypnotic rhythm. It slowly started relaxing and Starkiller started singing to it in the ancient Sith language. Within seconds, the baby hushed and stared up at him with big brown eyes. Before long, he was asleep, and Leia was looking at it relieved. And frankly, so was Han. “Wow, you really are the baby whisperer. I should have you come over at night to put him to sleep.”

          He chuckled softly, “I’d be glad to, but my duties are here.”

          “What was that you were singing?” Luke asked.

          “It was an old nursery rhyme my mother used to sing to me in her native tongue. Must have worked on me too. Unfortunately, I can’t remember what the language was called, I only remember the one song.”  Starkiller smiled at them. “Whatever it says, it seems to be a powerful tranquilizer. I still use it to relax sometimes.” They didn’t need to know that it was an actual spell. Not one that hurts the baby, only puts it to sleep. No, the other ones will come later; when he's ready. 

          Seemingly relieved Ben had fallen asleep, Leia and Luke fell deep into conversation about the current events. So he led Han and Chewbacca around the complex making small talk, and giving them a tour while still rocking the child in his arms. He could sense a small force presence in Han, but if he knew about it, he didn't care. He most certainly hadn't nurtured it in any way. Perhaps if he had, the baby in his arms would be that much stronger. When they returned to the entrance, the twins were still talking and likely hadn't even noticed their absence. He took the opportunity while they were all distracted to swipe some of the baby's hair. Once he delivered this to the acolytes, they could get to work preparing him. It was handy that all of these spells could work from a distance so long as they had a piece of the people involved. He already had a piece of Ashla, because he’d used it to test the transfer of power on himself. He’d also used it to steal some of her life in order slow the plague eating away at his flesh. That was how Sidious had brought Vader back to life after Anakin had been so badly burned he couldn’t have recovered without magic. It required someone that person was bonded with, and he’d already bonded with Ashla.

          Eventually, he would need to take her to the acolytes for the final ritual, but for now, the child would grow up opened to the dark side and the Sith spirits would haunt his dreams. He would beg for relief and Starkiller would be able to provide it. Soon enough, its parents would feel at a loss on how to help the kid and they’d turn it over to Luke. Once here, he’d be able to prepare it for its ascension; and when that time came… he’d take Ashla to Taris and gift Ben Solo with her power.

 ---

            "Do you know how beautiful you are?" He pushed her back against the ship wall and she smiled. 

          "You tell me all the time," Ashla bit her lip, watching him. "Hopefully that's not the only thing you care about though."

          "Of course not. There's so much more I love about you, but the way you look is definitely a bonus." He kissed her neck and she tipped her head back with a soft sigh. Getting involved with her Jedi teacher probably wasn't going to end well, her mom could tell her that, but as her and Snoke had gotten close over the past ten years, it had just moved comfortably into that. He was irresistible in such a dangerous and yet exciting way. Sometimes he just had to look at her and she'd melt. He'd come from a sect of Jedi that apparently never had the same hang ups when it came to attachments; where love had been encouraged rather than dismissed. None of them had ever been tempted by the dark side. From what she'd been learning, the mainstream Jedi couldn't say the same. 

          Luke had tried to restart the order like it once had been, but he hadn't been willing to give up his attachments either, so it had become a gray area in the new order. When running missions with Galen, she didn't feel the fear everyone warned about; the fear of losing him. Of course, she worried about him, but if anything, she felt stronger running by his side because they were so close. From what she'd seen in the clips Artoo had played for her when she first got there, her parents beat the odds all the time because they'd trusted each other so much. 

          "We're on a mission though, now isn't the time," she murmured, her protests were mainly for show anyways, she loved the way it felt when he touched her. It was hard to believe she’d gone so long never knowing what this was like.

          "We won't get to Taris for several hours, we have time. Might as well have a little fun," his warm breath against her skin sent waves of heat rippling through her body. 

          So much for trying to stay the voice of reason. She threw her arms around his neck and let him have his way. Giving into the need and desire he always ignited in her. Her thoughts gave way to a fuzzy haze of pleasure as he stoked her flame. 

 ---

           They arrived on Taris mid-morning. She thought their mission was to find a small group of force users that might join their new order. She was so gullible, she’d believe anything he told her. He watched her move through the ruins at the ready, admiring how much she’d grown, but he was also disappointed. He moved behind her and when she turned to look at him he waved his hand in front of her and she collapsed into his arms. "Oh Ashla," he shook his head. "If you'd just let go of your stubborn hold on the light, it wouldn't have to be this way. We could have ruled side by side as husband and wife." He kissed her on the lips and then scooped her up, carrying her deeper underground where the acolytes awaited. 

          He didn't want to admit that he'd become fond of her, but personal feelings aside, it was time for the heir of Darth Vader to rise. He'd tried for ten years to tempt Ashla into the darkness; using every trick he could think of. Though she'd been, and still was naïve, she was firmly rooted in the light. Her mother had taught her balance; even teaching her to use dark side spells didn't corrupt her. Her passion could ignite feelings in him he’d long thought dead, and if she’d just turned for him, he could mix his business with pleasure. At least once they drain her power, she won’t be able to resist him; she just wouldn’t be as interesting.

          Ben was so much easier to manipulate. After the nightmares and the connection to the Sith spirits they had created when he was a baby, he would beg for relief. He'd hang on every story Starkiller told him, good or bad. Once he'd gotten his own lightsaber crystal, the power transfer had begun. He would steal some of Ashla's power and bind it to Ben's crystal. Every time Starkiller helped him feel more powerful, he fell more and more into their grasp. Ironically it was Ashla that had provided him with the method of her own downfall. She’d told him about lightsaber crystals being a container and how force users bond with them. That’s what had given him the idea to transfer her power to his crystal instead of to him. It had worked far better than their original plan.

          Tonight, Ashla was going to lose the rest of her power in the last ritual. The blood of the chosen one would be spilled, and Ben's fate would be sealed. When he awoke the next day he would feel a burst of power and in the rush he would turn. They would then bring him here to Taris, and he would take his rightful place as one of the Knights of Ren. Once official, they would give him the artifacts of power that belonged to his grandfather and he would begin his ascent as the new Darth Vader. Then his master would be silent no more and the wellspring of the dark side would be unlocked.

          He laid her down on the altar in the middle of the ritual room and brushed his finger across her lower lip. "Don't worry, dear," he whispered to her even though she was still unconscious. "I have no reason to kill you. We will only drain your force power." He ran his hand down her body. "At least pretending to be in love with you wasn't the worst thing in the world."

          "Welcome home, Starkiller," Tashu said as he entered the room followed by the rest of the acolytes. Their numbers had multiplied since he'd found them ten years before. The new Republic believed the Empire was crushed. Little did they know, the new order; the First Order of the new darkness was rising from its ashes. The Knights of Ren were pulling strings all over the galaxy, everything was playing out exactly as they planned. And now that Ashla was here, the dark side would rise again; and it would be far more powerful than the Sith had ever been.

          "I have brought you Darth Vader's daughter, just as I promised. Prepare the ritual. The time of reckoning has come."

Next Chapter - >

#star wars #Star Wars Fic #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #anakin #ahsoka #ashla okami #ashla #luke skywalker #leia organa #han solo #chewbacca #starkiller #galen marek #galen snoke #snoke #ben solo #rey theory #legacy of light #tashu #acolytes of beyond #darth vader #vader #knights of ren #taris #devoran #first order #darth sidious #anisoka #skywalker twins