#which is what i think makes their story so much more ... gut wrenching

[bydoves]

me: i dont ship daisybilly it's based off cheating and lies.

also me, avid rooter for eddie and camila: ......

[auroratumbles]

✧.┊SAPPHIRE EYES.

cw. comfort, gojo being gojo, little fluff blurbs <3 (and… spoilers for the manga)

gossip queen !

“and get this, jenny kissed rebecca’s boyfriend right after! the audacity, am i right?!” you say, eyes wide and mouth enunciating every word to ensure he heard and understood.

“she did WHAT?? goddamn, if i was rebecca i wouldn’t let that slide!” satoru seems to be invested in every word that slips past your lips, leaning in closer for more.

“yeah, i know right!! but she has a plan to get jenny fired. i’ll tell you how it goes later.”

he does truly act like a teenage girl sometimes.

shitty movies !

satoru gojo loves watching movies. whether they’re horrible romcoms or the most gut-wrenching, tragic story ever made, he will always watch them. especially with you. sharing a blanket and holding a bucket of popcorn, completely invested in what’s going on on the brightly coloured screen. these little ‘movie sessions’ usually end late into the night.

(it usually ends with him wailing over the ending and you consoling him, patting his head and giggling over his childish behaviour.)

taking turns !

it’s not that satoru’s bad at cooking, he just prefers not to do it. so the both of you distribute chores based on preference. you take the cooking, he takes the cleaning, you go out for the groceries every week (he’d get distracted), and he does the laundry. you’re glad that he actually knows how to run a house, considering he usually stays at motels due to his missions. sometimes the two of you do switch chores.

“[naaaaame], we’re out of laundry detergent!!”

“go and grab some from the store, then!!”

pretty eyes !

it’s no secret that satoru’s eyes are beautiful. you are lucky indeed that they are the first things you see when you wake up in the morning. he had been making an effort to come home to you more often, which you were utterly grateful for.

“[naaaame], i’m home!”

“welcome back, satoru. how was your day?”

tight hold !

if satoru could take you everywhere with him, he would. whenever he hugs you he clings onto your skin so tight that you suspect he thinks you’d disappear at any second. he suffocates you sometimes, but you don’t mind. you try to hold onto him equally as hard.

so why did he end up leaving you on that day when he swore he wouldn’t? cut into two with nothing but a letter left behind as your last memento of his? he was no longer able to come back into your arms like he said he would when he kissed you goodbye before the battle. and so you wept alone on a cold mattress which was far too big for one person.

my apolocheese 😈 uhm anyways comments and rbs are very much appreciated <3

❥ © @auroratumbles 2024. do not repost/copy.

[areislol]

it just won't be the same.

"you were a wonderful experience." "you were... everything."

ft— various genshin male x gn! reader

warning — angst with no comfort,breakup!! intended lowercase, not proofread.

a/n— just putting this out before chapter six of my series, we love that. anywho i have another lil thing on the way as well ^^

wordcount. 1.0k

truth be told, he missed you. he missed you a lot.

as the days stretched into weeks and the weeks into months, he found himself grappling with the lingering ache of heartbreak that seemed to deepen with every passing moment.

he reminisces about his connection with you, a connection which no longer existed. the apartment they once called "home" echoed with the haunting silence of memories.

he... remembers how he had grown accustomed to waking up alone. for years, the empty space beside him seemed to mirror the loneliness that lingered in his heart. but when a serendipitous twist of fate introduced him to you, he found himself waking up in bed alongside his lover who admiringly gazes at him.

for once he felt happiness, he would've never imagined himself to finally find the one, that he would always be alone—and yet here you were. ready to embrace and welcome him in your loving arms.

but of course, not everything lasted forever. and that's what hurt the most. he thought that you would be the very one to be by his side forever until you both grow old. he had faith, he trusted himself and his intuition.

oh how he was he was wrong.

he faced the harsh reality of an ending that he never saw coming. The pain, raw and unfiltered, painted his world in shades of heartache. he found himself grappling with the harsh truth that not all love stories are meant to endure.

and once again, he found himself waking up to the haunting vacancy of an empty bed. he grappled with the familiar ache of waking up alone, haunted by the fleeting happiness that had slipped through his grasp.

he wondered how something that felt so right could end so painfully wrong.

he remembered the day you sent him that very text, the very text that would have ever-lasting effects on him. the very text he dreaded since the beginning of your relationship.

he remembered how he felt when he first got a look at your message. "we should talk." oh. that sentence.

he remembered meeting up with you on a rainy day (coincidental huh?) at 2 AM, surprisingly you didn't bring an umbrella which you usually did, luckily for him he brought one for you both to share.

"there's no need, i'll make this quick."

quick? what did you mean? he was unsure of what you had meant, oh if he could only go back and try to persuade you so much more.

the rain poured from the sky in a relentless downpour, as if the very sky had opened up to release its pent-up emotions. it just had to be raining.

both your hairs were soaking wet, rain dribbling down from your head to your face, he had the urge to wipe your face dry and hold an umbrella over you but, he knew better.

he remembers feeling an undescribable gut-wrenching feeling, one he had never felt before.

he remembered how dry his throat felt, had it always been that dry?

he remembered how he seemed to have stopped breathing, his breath short and rigged.

"lets break up, i.. i just don't think this will work. you're too busy and i don't feel loved at all, you really hurt me. i'm sorry but i think this is for the best."

"break up?" his voice was barely above a whisper as his words slipped from his mouth, he inched closer to you, hand reaching out to you before he stopped himself.

he remembered seeing you crying, or maybe it was just the rain. he couldn't see properly anyway, tears were brimming his eyes.

it just couldn't be. his eyes remained focused on you, he studied your face. was this a prank? no, your face.. it was mingled with many emotions, anger? disappointment? he was unsure. brows furrowed as you stared at him, not uttering a single word.

"n—no wait, please, explain yourself. i— if i did something wrong please tell me what i did i'll fix it! what do you mean you don't feel loved? i'll give you everything you need please don't—"

it was no use. his words left no impression on you, he stumbled over his words as he continued to pour out his heart, thinking about everything he must've done to upset you.

"please, don't make this anymore complicated than it already is, you know what you did. i only wish you the best,"

he remembered you letting out a sigh before speaking again. "... you were a wonderful experience."

a wonderful experience?

he remembered everything so vividly as if it happened yesterday. he remembered standing out in the rain in the dead of night, you were long gone, leaving him in the pouring rain, the soft glowing amber streetlights illuminating the wet concrete ground

"you were... everything." he whispered, the weight of those words hanging in the air. his voice was shaky and barely audible as he let out quiet, pained choked sobs, letting his tears run freely down his cheeks.

the pain was unbearable.

the days, weeks, months and years after was like no other. he felt incomplete, he couldn't quite accept the fact that you two were over, gone, all the things you did together were gone. nothing but bittersweet memories.

he despised the gods for being so cruel, everywhere he went was just another blunt reminder of you. the cafes, the parks, museums, galleries, everything.

even the cats you both used to feed every weekend, everything reminded him of you. it was like a curse, clinging and gnawing on his heart.

regret loomed over him like a shadow as he found himself grappling with the haunting question of what could have been done differently. he traced his fingers over old photographs, the smiles frozen in time.

his fingers would linger there on your face a little bit longer unknowingly.

the truth remained: the love that had once been the foundation of their shared world had crumbled, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he had let something precious slip through his fingers.

but, if there was a chance, he would go back in time and change everything he ever did to upset you. he yearned for a time machine to undo the missteps and restore the life they had built together. please, take him back.

— (all male genshin characters)

note: erm i just wanted to yeah i wrote this in an hour so if it is rushed NO IT IS NOT (yes it is)

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

another note: NOW A (slight) ANGST WITH COMFORT FIC NEXT YAY

[toxictoad]

An Amateur and Very Biased Explanation of Stanford Pines as a Man and a Character

The Pines household is dysfunctional, there's no doubt about that. Stan is the Scapegoat and Ford is the Golden Child. The way their father treats them puts them at direct odds to each other. Except that the twins are so close that the division that most often happens in these cases isn't really there. They both more or less accept the roles that they've been given in their toxic family system. Stanley accepts the idea that he is stupid and unremarkable, and Stanford accepts the idea that he is special, and important, and everything relies on him. Ford is both bullied relentlessly by his peers and praised almost universally by authority figures. His ego is inflated constantly, and I'd bet he is very bad at taking criticism of any kind after he's used to it for so long. But that praise is solely for his intelligence. He is only worth anything if he is smart. It is the only thing that matters about him. And see how Stanley plays into this; He's the scapegoat, but he's also Ford's protector. Stan sticks by his brother in every circumstance, and uplifts his accomplishments. Stan is the only person who really acknowledges Ford for things other than his intelligence. Which enforces their already existing co-dependence. But Ford is a genius, he's special, he's the key to his family's future, etc. He has ambitions outside of adventuring, or his family, or the things that his brother wants. He is encouraged to go out and make something of himself by everyone except Stanley.

So he becomes enamored by the idea of college, and science, and money. And he doesn't give much of a thought to his brother, which is a blind spot that's probably been there for years. He's indignant and accusatory about the science project because the thing about it is that his intelligence is supposed to work for him. He's special, and things are supposed to go right for him. But Stan messed things up, and Ford is angry because the way he sees it his brother, someone he probably trusts above anyone else, messed up his life and did it on purpose. This is wrong, of course, but Ford is reacting in the moment to a perceived major betrayal. And then their father kicks his brother out. Now, I try to engage in good faith with most criticisms of Ford, but there is not a lot of credence to the idea that he was capable of standing up for Stan in this moment. He's a seventeen-year-old in an abusive household, and he's just been through an emotionally devastating experience.

I think that the perceived betrayal of Stan sabotaging his science project is an incredibly pivotal moment, because it kickstarts the beginning of Ford's trust issues

He stews in the bitterness of it, but has some connections during university that mostly keep him tethered to the world. However, when he gets to Gravity Falls it's a different story. He isolates himself in the woods with a single-minded purpose to progress his research, and probably becomes a little paranoid even anything started with the portal.

But then of course he summons Bill.

I'm not about to turn this into an essay about the Billford parallels here, but I could, okay?

Bill plays on every insecurity and weakness that Stanford has. He builds up his ego and downplays his flaws. He presents himself as a muse that only appears to special people. To people destined to make a difference- and that is exactly what Ford believes himself to be.

And of course this goes awry. Ford ultimately trusts Bill over Fiddleford, and on a larger scale chooses to see himself as special and above others instead of making human connections.

At this point the paranoia has embedded itself deep into Stanford's brain. He cannot trust anybody but Bill, and then Bill reveals his true intentions and he can't trust anyone but himself (Or, possibly, he can't even trust himself).

This is what is absolutely gut-wrenching about his decision to reach out to Stanley, of all people. Despite calling him untrustworthy- Despite still thinking that Stan sabotaged his future on purpose- Ford still reaches out to his brother. Which is both a testament to their bond, and adds yet another layer of tragedy to what happens next.

I'm ending this here, because I don't think I have anything to say about Ford after this that hasn't been said better by somebody else. In any case: Have some goddamn nuance about Ford already.

[may-jailers-version]

The untold tale - a Lara Croft fanfic

So this is supposed to evolve into a Lara Croft x (fem) reader thing but I pumped this sort of intro (in the middle of the night instead of sleeping lol) and I want to see if ppl are actually interested in knowing more about this fanfic idea I’ve been having for months. As you’ll understand it’s also a lot about Lara’s mother (bc let’s be honest this woman is so fine and deserves some fine ass story of her own) and it is set shortly after the shadow events, so don’t expect lots of adventure at least in the beginning of the story. Pardon me if there is some inaccuracies regarding the video game I watched the play through a lil while ago (yes “watched”, I don’t have the money to play the games, sorry, I’m a poor student leave me alone 😭).

Even though the following text isn’t really “mature” rated, if I continue the story there will be prob adult themes so I’ll kindly ask minors not to interact with this post :)

Enjoy now I guess, and please keep in mind that English isn’t my first language (+ I wrote this sleep deprived) ; if you notice any spelling or grammar mistake, you’re welcome to let me know in an indulgent way in the comments. Any other kind of criticism, as long as worded kindly, is also very much welcomed!

TW : mention of death and loosing a relative

Lara Croft finds out about the passionate but gut wrenching love story her mother had with another woman in her youth : in her quest for informations, she confronts herself to what remains of this love story, and what could ensue of it. 

Or

What happens when the girl who wants to know more meets the girl who wants to forget ? 

Lara pushed the wooden panel still decorated by her own mother’s hand. The intricate scrolls of vegetation were faded in some places, the colours used had lost a bit of their brightness, but the spirit of Amelia Croft’s creativity and skills was still present. In fact, the whole room Lara was about to enter was still and always impregnated with the aura of the mourned and regretted mother and artist. That is probably why it was one of the first rooms the archaeologist was inclined to check after her return to the Croft Manor. 

3 weeks ago, she was done helping the people of Paititi in the Peruvian jungle rebuild and comfort their community. After days upon days  of giving more than a hand to the Mayan inhabitants, making amend, no, begging for salvation after all the wrongs she had caused, the call to home had finally hailed her. She had found her peace, somehow, seeing as the people of Paititi weren’t as resorting towards her as she was towards her own self. It had always been a wonder, how the people around her were not absolutely despising her after all the bad omens that had followed after her person. 

How could Jonah still be an infallible friend and partner after everything he has had to face because of her ? How could Joslin still speak to her after her daughter’s dad had been killed trying to protect her ? How had Sofia not shot an arrow between her eyes after witnessing her father die and the blood of so many of her people being spilled ? How could Unuratu’s people be so subservient towards her after what she had done ? 

The only time when shit seemed to have come back at her was when she had at last been forbidden from seeing Sam. There was not a week during which she didn’t think about her, about the brightness she brought to any room she entered, about the glow that used to dance in her eyes, about the softness that would envelop her skin, about the feeling of her arms wrapped around Lara’s waist. The vivid memories of times spent with what had probably been her first love, was probably the punition Lara was seeking every moment of her cursed life. The sinfulness of her existence could be purified by the aching provoked by her lover’s souvenir, and the feeling she had lost forever a part of herself. 

But today, Lara had decided to torture herself with the souvenir of another person. As she took some steps into the sunlit room, the wood under her life long partner rider boots cracked, and the floating dust twirled around her figure. Nothing had moved since the last time she had come here. This part of the house, much like the rest in fact, had been stilled, frozen into time, not as if its objects and furniture were waiting for their users to return, much like if the whole setting constituted some sort of mausoleum to the deceased that were once owners of this place. 

In this mausoleum of the matriarch, Lara was ready to bend and bow at the relics, reminders of the past, beholders of present nostalgia. So she stepped further, and let her eyes glide over the surface of the walls, of the tables, over the dryness of the paint buckets, the stillness of the brushes neatly stacked in clear goblets, or negligently sprawled on the floor. Her heart squeezed tightly when her gaze fell onto the unfinished canvas throning on its easel. A scenery, a lavender field in the french Provence, in the middle of which the faint silhouette of a woman holding down her hat could be deciphered, had been left incomplete by Amelia. 

Lara remembered what had pushed her mother to depict this specific landscape. It was some days after her mom and dad’s dispute, to which, unbeknownst to them, she had assisted, hiding behind the door of the office. Her mother needed to decompress, and found herself in her shed to practice her art in its most meditating form. But here she had been struggling to find inspiration, the conflict with her husband clouding her mind. That is when Lara had mentioned missing the sights of the southeastern french region of Provence, to which she wished to return soon. 

After her mother’s death, Lara never returned to Provence. She never got to see once again the azur blue sky, feel the wind as it brushes under a woman’s hat, smell the lavender fields her mom had been trying to captivate in her last moments. 

After some time freezing on the spot at the sight of the canvas, Lara decided to redirect her attention towards something else. The wardrobe. The same pastel green patterns of the room’s door were adorning the wooden structure of the piece of furniture. Lara pushed the clappers open, her eyes roaming its interior ; various objects were sitting on the different shelves, mainly paint brushes in other glass goblets, boxes full of paint tubes, argile statues deprived of any polychromy, some créations little Lara had made on her own. Her eyes settled for a wooden box littered with childlike drawings made of striking colours and her hand reached for the top shelf on which it had been sitting for years. 

After sitting legs crossed on the floor in front of the wardrobe, she opened the box delicately and instantly started smiling. In there were preciously conserved sketches, simple drawings that yet held bits of the Croft family’s intimacy. Pencil drawings of a chubby baby Lara smiling ear to ear, Richard reading a book to his daughter sitting on his knees, Amelia teaching her little girl how to paint… A time in which comfort seemed granted. A time in which emptiness and longing were unknown feelings to Lara. 

As her mind and heart yet again mingled with sorrow, her ruffling stopped at the drawing of a singular person. Her hand held onto the paper displaying the traits of a woman in her early 20s, a beautiful woman at that, but that she failed to recall. She must have missed the drawing during her precedent scorching, because such beauty in a woman’s face would have easily been remembered by the archaeologist. After some more contemplating, she flipped through the rest of the drawings, stumbling in the same time upon some of her own attempts of creation that her mother had kept as treasures. She finally put everything back in the box before closing it and getting up to stack it back right where she had lifted it. 

But when trying to push it in the back of the shelf in order to ensure its safety, she felt the box bumping against something hard. Intrigued, she tried to check what was constituting the obstacle, but found herself not tall enough to get a good view. Placing the drawing box upon a nearby table, she took a chair and climbed on it. Now she could see that there was nothing else than an other box sitting in the back, one she had never seen before. 

Gliding the box over to herself, she then picked it up to get a better look at it. Upon sitting it on the table, she noticed there was a lock to it, but unfortunately, no key in sight. She quickly looked around, scanning the room for any object that would be of help in her situation. She finally settled for some sculpting tool, a steel linear object with a pointing end that could easily be inserted in the little hole. After some seconds of struggle, Lara could hear the clicking sound of the interior mechanism giving up, granting her access to the content of this mysterious box. 

The felted inside revealed itself to be full of letters, written in a style that she didn’t recognise as her mother’s or father’s handwriting. She picked up the first paper, and unfolding it, started reading. 

“My dear Amelia, 

I saw you at the bar the other night. I saw you sitting right in the middle, legs crossed, chest proud, eyes piercing but oh so charming. There was only you for me, in this room, and I like to believe there was only me, too, in your own irises. My voice that evening, I hope, carried itself to your ear in order to let it hear the whisper of affection and longing. My melody, I wish, wrapped your heart in the most tender embrace. My words, I pray, have led your soul into a waltz into which each step is the remembrance of a dead poet. 

After the show, that night, your face has filled my dreams the same way my voice had filled the room. But I did not remember the clapping, the applauding, the whistling. All I could recall was how your eyes held onto my lips like the roses hold onto that morning mist. And what a rose you are to the world, what a bloom you are to me. 

Your last letter has lingered on me like a winter fur. Warm and reassuring, it’s all that keeps me from deflating by your absence on my side. Because you are like the sun to my harsh winter, only your rays can melt away the frost that the world impend on me every day. I get weary of anything foreigner to your sensuality. 

You can join me in my dorm by 9pm this Friday, where my eyes will survey the movement of the  clock sting, waiting for time to bring your physical envelope to my arms, as you know how your heart already and forever lies in mine. 

With deep and devouring love, Gabrielle.” 

Lara stayed still, frozen for the third time in a single hour. Her brain was processing what she had just read, her psyche fighting to accept the words that had been put under her eyes. Gabrielle… who was this Gabrielle ? When had she written and sent that ? Why was there so much passion in the way she spoke to her mother ? Clearly if the letter had been kept so meticulously in such a box, it must have meant a lot for the latter. 

Lara’s heart race fastened at those thoughts, her mind racing, questions fusing. Frantically she grabbed handfuls of letters and sprawled them onto the table surface, her eyes feverishly jumping from one piece of paper to the other, not knowing which one to pick next. There must have been at least 3 dozens of letters in this box, but upon emptying it, Lara’s eyes stopped on pictures stacked at the bottom. 

The first few ones were of a woman singing in a café displaying a 1920s look, a “année folle” aesthetic. Despite the picture’s quality not being the best, Lara could clearly spot a striking resemblance with the woman in the sketching. She flipped through the other pictures, where she could observe the woman’s trait more clearly, the latter being shot in different settings, at different moments, in different lights and angles. All of those pictures were showing a beautiful woman in her 20s, a captivating look in her eyes, and an almost bewitching smile adorning her face from time to time. 

And then, a vision that made Lara’s heart skip a beat. A picture of the same woman laying on her mother’s thighs in a minimalistic bedroom, the first looking up to the other looking down at her, both holding hands, both adorning a tender full and fiery expression for the other.  

Lara spent minutes observing the picture, her brows lightly furrowed, her stomach in knots, a strange sensation in her chest. She took the chair, put it back before the table and sat on it. She rested her back onto it, flipped the glossy paper to read at its back “I wish this moment had last forever, just you and me in this room, without the struggles of the outside” which was, this time, of her mother’s writing. Lara straightened her back and starting flipping the other pictures to spot any other indications and left messages. Behind one of the pictures of the woman singing in the bar, there was written “her voice like silk, her movement like water, her body like a dancing flame. She’s my angel.” 

A tear rolled down Lara’s cheek. What was all this about ? Why hasn’t she never heard of this ? How come her mother had experienced the same thing Lara had felt so shameful of in all her teenage years ? Had her father known about this ? And who was this woman her mother had loved so fiercely ? 

The curious spirit of Lara and her palpable need to know more about her lost mother drove her to spend the rest of the day into reading more of the letters, decipher all the pictures and try to find hints of this past love story in her mother’s art laying around the shed, attempting to reconstitute a puzzle to which half of the pieces were missing… 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I need to find my ao3 password and stuff back so I can publish it on there. In the meantime, here some kind reminders :

🍉Keep getting informed on the situation in Gaza (Palestinian genocide) and share the story of unfortunate endangered families. 

🇨🇩If you can, donate to charities for Congo so that shelters can be built for families and especially women and children fleeing exploitation, mass murder, and SA.

🕊️Keep your eyes on countries which are currently suffering from imperialism such as Ukraine, Georgia, Armenia, Kanaky (New-Caledonia).

���Boycott fast fashion brands like Shein (just one example) to protest against the exploitation of endangered ethnic groups in China. 🌧️Last but not least, stay HYDRATED, the world needs healthy activists ! ♥️

Happy pride to all also :)

[lemonhemlock]

It’s very amusing that Condal clearly wants to adapt AFFC, and how people eat it up despite it not being earned. AFFC was the fourth book of the series, after the beheading of Ned, Winterfell falling, Jaime losing his hand, the Red Wedding, the Purple Wedding. All the reasons for why the War of the Five Kings is over, all those people are either dead or scattered to the wind, and yet the war rages on. It’s a pointless war that characters we have grown to know and love undergo intense changes in, notably Jaime and Brienne as they wander through the Riverlands, Arya in Braavos, Sam on the edge of despair as he journeys south. Frankly? Considering that the Dance hasn’t even properly started yet and no one cares about the deaths that have occurs (Luke, Jaehaerys, Rhaenys) the sheer fatalism feels unearned bc no one has gone through gut wrenching tragedy yet. “War is pointless.” Great, but we got another two seasons of this and if the characters think this story is dumb and pointless and are just going through the motions, why should we watch? It’s frankly just too early for everyone to lose their shit bc they haven’t even begin to truly lose everything yet. The characters themselves thinking it’s pointless robs them of motivations bc we still got more than half the story to go! Criston’s monologue in the finale is good but that’s because it’s directly cribbed from Jaime’s “honor is mist” speech but it’s not nearly as earned bc we don’t have any idea how or why he started sleeping with Alicent or even why he became a kingsguard in the first place! Daemon’s Harrenhal arc ended with him somehow obsessed with a prophecy and connecting it back to Rhaenyra without him coming to terms with Viserys not trusting him with the prophecy which is what he was mad about in the first place!

We never actually see anyone react to anything, and the limping plodding along of character development happening off screen so we never see how or why anyone changes is not good! Episode 7 actually gave me some hope bc Rhaenyra seemed to be embracing her role as a leader of there’s dragonriders the gods have given her, but in the next episode she’s literally saying the exact same lines “what would you have me do” and “who will pay the price” which she said at the start of the season! Even Alicent’s about face is unearned bc we don’t actually see her truly fight with her children about anything, really. She just lets them talk in her face and then limps away to camp in a scene that’s “all about rebirth bc baptism and water” without ever getting to the core of anything. It’s a beautiful show full of empty symbolism without a narrative actually underpinning it, borrowing from a better story without understanding what makes that story so good.

You said it more eloquently than I could at the moment. It's not just one or two badly executed points, nothing gets built up, nothing gets resolved or even discussed, we just skip past A TON of vital characterisational changes and are expected to "fill in the gaps". No, they're just bad at writing. You wouldn't be reading a book or watching a show that is so bad at these elements - people are watching because it's ASOIAF.

Why is Alicent so mad? Aegon has barely done anything as king, he's actually tried to help the smallfolk in his audiences! Aemond dismissed her from the Council, sure, which I found a dumb political plot hole, but she hasn't done much to address it? And what exactly has Criston Cole done all season that he is the most reprehensible male character on the show? He didn't vote for Alicent and called her by her name. Does he deserve to die for that? Has Alicent ever been portrayed as the type of character who would react so disproportionately? That's Aemond-level writing. Is Alicent = Aemond now? (She isn't even shown being mad at Criston for sending Arryk after Rhaenyra!)

What Alicent is shown to have a problem with is Aemond burning Aegon. But then again why abandon Aegon to be executed by Rhaenyra? Just overdose him on milk of the poppy and let him die, ffs. Alicent also suspects Criston is not telling her about Aemond's crime, but they part on okay terms? She gives him her favour? How do you go from that to dooming him by revealing his coordinates?

I would really like to pile on-to the AFFC copycat accusations* with Succession rip-offs (my followers are probably tired of hearing me mention it, but it's truly what prestige television should be and it's what we should be comparing HotD to!). First it was teenage!Aegon wanking in the window à la Roman Roy, then Alicent suddenly gets water symbolism this season like Kendall and "I do not wish to hear it"? Do they think they're being cute here?

*not just with Criston, but with Rhaena, too, although you could at least argue there that GRRM himself is also mirroring Jaime and Sansa there

[lemonwood31]

Some thoughts on the new evil ending lines for Halsin in patch 7.

Just a quick disclaimer to start: this is a critical opinion. His romanced ending line in the evil ending really didn't work for me for reasons that are in part subjective. I’m not trying to argue anyone who it did work for out of liking it!

Okay, so Halsin’s dying words when the PC chooses to kiss him and then stab him to death as part of the ending ('Thaniel... goodbye…’)

This didn’t work for me for a number of reasons. My initial reaction was to find it melodramatic in a way that was offputting rather than satisfying. Dave Jones does a pretty good job with the line, I think, but even he couldn’t save it for me. A character whispering goodbye to a loved one as they die is such a cliché that I find it really hard to take it seriously. And it’s not helped by the fact that the entire Thaniel and Halsin relationship fundamentally doesn’t work for me for a bunch of reasons I won’t complicate this post with (and which are largely subjective). If I were more invested in their relationship then it would probably have been more affecting.

But then I watched the equivalent ending for Gale, and his line (‘you made me want to live’) I did find very affecting. Despite the fact that while I’m fond of most of the companions, Gale included, if you asked me to rank them in order of preference he wouldn’t make the top half of the list. But that line ties so well into his story, and really drives home in a pretty gut-wrenching way the sheer cruelty of going through his whole romance arc, talking him out of blowing himself up, helping him start to see his self-worth and feel like he has something to live for, only to turn around and kill him just as he’s learning how to feel hope.

I think the reason I find that satisfying, in a way that Halsin’s line isn’t, is because it’s specific rather than generic. It highlights the PC’s actions as a betrayal and a cruelty. It’s a commentary on the relationship. It’s a commentary on the choices you’ve made throughout the game.

Whereas Halsin’s line is something he could have said while he was dying in any circumstances at all. And yes, it’s sad that you’ve killed him and taken him away from Thaniel (I assume... not sure how the Faerûn afterlife is supposed to work vis-a-vis nature spirits), but it’s not a specific cruelty. His line comments on neither your relationship with him nor the ultimate betrayal you’ve just subjected him to. It’s only specific to his own character insofar as they’ve inserted the name of his most significant loved one.

Fundamentally, what I want out of that line is for it to be its own little twist of the knife that the romanced companion is inflicting on you, the PC. A line that conveys the enormity and the specificity of the betrayal that your choices represent. Gale’s line is that, for me. Halsin’s isn’t.

And it’s particularly frustrating to me because they had plenty of other options. Even Halsin’s lines before this one, reacting to your decision to control the brain rather than kill it, touch on aspects of his arc that I think they could have leaned into for his dying words to much greater effect. His anger and sorrow that he’s stood by your side in service to a greater purpose, and now you’re throwing that purpose away, not only choosing an evil path but rendering Halsin’s own actions worthless and futile and all for naught. His blaming of himself for his role in bringing you to this point. Hell, if they’d wanted to keep the reference to Thaniel, there are ways that could have been made more specific, too: highlighting the fact that you helped him remove the Shadow Curse and then killed him before he ever got to see the land restored.

It just feels phoned in, to me. Like this should have been the first draft of the line that they then workshopped into being better by considering both Halsin’s character, and the story purpose of those dying words, in much more depth.

[magiccath]

Endings

tenth doctor x GN!reader

Summary: In which the Doctor hates endings. Especially when it comes to you

CW: Major character death

A/N: sorry not sorry again for this one

The Doctor hated endings. Books, movies, life. Everything had to end. It could be bittersweet, happy, or even ambivalent. Eventually, everything found its end. 

If the Doctor controlled the story, nothing would ever end. Not happily, and certainly not tragically. 

He ripped the last page out of books, casting the singular piece of paper away without a second thought. He turned the TV off before the last scene of a movie, not even bothering with the credits. The few times you went to see the original Shakespeare with him, he left before the last act. He never wanted to say goodbye to anyone, especially you. 

It took you a while to figure this out. You’d watched him lose Rose, and Donna too; you’d helped him pick up the pieces afterward. Each of those events heart-shattering in its own way. 

But even after things ended, he continued on like they hadn’t. He didn’t put Rose’s things away, you did. He left Donna’s tea in the TARDIS kitchen. 

You feared if your story ended, for whatever reason, you would hang around him forever. A cruel reminder of a painful past. 

But you knew it would happen. Maybe he’d kick you out of the TARDIS.  Maybe you’d forget like Donna, or get lost like Rose. Or maybe you’d die like River. 

You certainly didn’t think it would happen like this. You didn’t want it to happen like this. 

You had fought that morning. You couldn’t even really remember why, it was that silly. You just remembered being furious with the Doctor. Maybe he had been reckless, that was usually the reason you got mad at the Time Lord. 

You’d agreed to table the fight and deal with it later. You had just assumed there would be a later, there had always been one before.

When it finally happened, it happened in slow motion, almost as if time stopped for you. It wasn’t quick or easy. It was slow and painful, the realization that this was it. The end for you. 

Your eyes darted between the Dalek that had shot you and the Doctor, your eyes dripping with apologies. The blow was quick, but the pain wasn’t. It coursed through your body, a gut-wrenching torment. You gritted your teeth through it, trying your best to power your way through. 

As much pain as you were in, the Doctor was in more. You could see it in his eyes. They were always more expressive than the rest of him. He could think he had the best poker face in the world, but his eyes would always give him away. 

The Doctor was by your side in an instant, cradling your body against his. His fingers desperately clutched your clothes, clawing to keep you close to him. He couldn’t lose you. Not now, not like this. 

“Stay with me,” he pleaded, tears already staining his face. He pushed a stray hair off of your forehead, his touch lingering on your face. You were always so beautiful, even in death. He cursed himself for not telling you more often. 

“It’s ok,” you choked out. You smiled sadly, the action excruciating. Even as the pain overtook you there was one thing on your mind - making sure he was ok. The Doctor had lost so much, you didn’t want to be another thing to haunt him at night. 

He shook his head and held you tighter, clearly not ready to let you go. You used the rest of your strength to lift your hand to his face for the last time, tracing the lines of his jaw. 

“I love you,” you uttered, hardly a whisper. The Doctor’s tears fell from his face and onto your shirt, small droplets of pain decorating the fabric. 

If he could, he would have torn the universe apart from you. But he couldn't. All he could do was sit and watch you die. What good was he if he couldn’t take care of you? 

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, guilt clouding his eyes. He had promised to keep you safe. To keep you alive. 

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered, smiling sadly. It truly wasn’t his fault, he had to know that.

You stared upwards at his painstaking face as the rest of your life drained from your body, leaving you limp. One second you were there, the next you were gone. It was as simple as that. 

The Doctor broke, pained sobs forcing their way from his mouth as he clutched your lifeless body. It wasn’t pretty, pain rarely was. Tears and all the nasty things that came with it streamed down his face. He felt as if his hearts had been ripped out of his chest. He had felt pain before, too many times to count, but it never felt like this. 

He didn’t care that there was still a war raging on around him. He didn’t care that he could be shot by a Dalek at any minute. All he could focus on was you. He’d loved you, more than he had ever loved anything in his long life. He had sworn to look after you, to protect you. In the end, he couldn’t do either of those things. Instead, he was left desperately clutching your body.

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 41: Technoscience

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev || Next

Leo still doesn't know how he managed to wriggle himself away from Raph's mother hen-ing, but here he is now -- wandering the halls alone, looking for that Honey-doctor-whoever.

Maybe he should have stayed with Mikey.... he can't help but worry about him. Yes, he has his ninpo back, but still... This place is a bad place. Leo's not sure how to explain it beyond that. It's like being inside a house you know is the location for a horror movie. It reeks of evil.

Besides, he still has the 'epipen' Mikey handed him tucked safely away in his fanny pack.

Leo wonders what Mikey will do with it. After their whole conversation concerning how Mikey is changed now, and how Leo has been adamant that they've accepted him no matter what... he wonders what Mikey's decision will be. He could still take it and change back into his old self. Get back to 'normal'. Become the person he used to be, become the version of himself he's been fighting so hard to get back to.

Or, he could refuse it. Stay like this, with claws and a giant tail and fangs.

What would life be like after that?

Honestly, Leo hadn't even considered that option until the morning when Donnie said he couldn't figure out a retro-mutagen on his own. He said it was impossible. It was a blow to the stomach back then, a dagger in the heart to think of that. To think of Mikey forever trapped in a body that could barely speak and not yet walk upright, a body tormented by thoughts from another voice, a body broken and pieced back together crudely. At the time, it felt like giving up. But now...?

Now, Mikey can convey himself perfectly and speak clearly. Now, Mikey can walk on two legs with very little assistance. Now, Mikey's head is clear of torment.

Now, Mikey is Mikey again.

So what exactly is his choice?

Leo thinks he might know what his brother's choice will be. But he's not sure if it's the right one...

In any case, now's not the time to worry over it. He's on a search and rescue mission. Leo hobbles his way up the stairs until he feels something in his gut. It's soft, small, gentle. A light pulling sensation he can only describe as a knowing, a connection, or maybe even a reconnection, if that makes sense.

Ninpo.

A few minutes later, he gets a message from Donnie that he's found their weapons.

"Ah, so that's what that was," Leo sighs to himself.

He wishes he had his swords with him now. He usually doesn't mind searching the old fashioned way, but with the injuries he has and the time they're losing... Every extra minute in this place makes him more and more nervous.

Leo starts to heave and pant as he climbs yet another flight of stairs. He figures he's almost at the top of the whole place by now...

He gasps for breath as he leans against a door in the stairwell, which leads to yet another floor.

"Oh... Pizza supreme... I need to work out more... or not get electrocuted so much..."

Leo notices the door he's leaning against has a keypad by the handle. Huh. That's strange, none of the other doors have that...

It's either a really good sign or a really bad sign.

Leo wishes yet again that he had his portal swords... it would make things so much easier...

He glances to the side and notes the stairwell railing. Oh well. He'll have to improvise...

He grips the railing and starts shaking it, testing it for weak points. Raph would be better at this next part, but Leo can manage on his own. He pulls on one end and kicks at the other, yanking as hard as he can. It starts to come loose.

"Almost there... almost... come on, baby...!" Leo groans, wrenching the metal bar as hard as he can.

Finally, it starts to break apart! Leo just needs one good shove... He grips the thing as tightly as he can and pushes it as far as it can go. He hears a crunch of metal. One more go ought to do it! Leo revs up, takes a few steps back, rushes forwards and grips the rail with all his might before jumping over and yanking it down with him. The bar snaps off the rail and falls along with the slider turtle.

Leo concentrates, gripping the rail close to his chest as he falls down the center of the stairwell. The metal bar glows blue, and transforms into a sword.

"Man oh man, do I love my ninpo," Leo chuckles to himself, before slicing a hole in space beneath him.

He ends up tumbling right in front of the door at the top floor again, skidding to a halt as he pants for breath again. He may love his ninpo, but transforming random objects into swords like that takes it out of him. Especially when he already has his own swords... made from garden spades....

The sword flickers softly. Leo has to hurry before he exhausts his ninpo... He remembers what happened the last time he did this -- he portalled himself and Mikey out of their bedroom and into Dee's lab after having a nightmare and promptly passed out from the exertion of transforming a metal ruler into a sword. Not his best moment...

Leo holds the sword steady and prays he doesn't pass out this time...

The runes and markings on the blade shimmer before he slices the air once again. Leo limps and lumbers through the portal, tripping slightly before landing on his hands and knees at the other side of the door. The sword fizzles under his palms and reverts to its former state.

"Well... at least I didn't... faint..." he chuckles airily to himself. "....Yet."

Leonardo stumbles through the hallway, placing all his weight on the walls to support him. He's awfully dizzy, and the pins-and-needles numbing pains that occupy his chest hasn't left either. Leo makes a mental note to get revenge on all tasers and cattle prods in the future...

Maybe he should have had Raph come along with him after all.

But he said he was fine, and he saw how badly Raph wanted to stay with Mikey this time around. He knows that Mikey forgave Raph and absolved him of any mistakes from the past, but even so. This mission hits a little too close to home....... for all of them.

Leo starts to notice that the walls are beginning to have doors. Was that always happening? How long has he been zoned out? Okay, he needs to find Dr. Honeycomb as fast as he can and get back to the guys as soon as possible. The adrenaline rush he got from having his ninpo restored and escaping is beginning to wear off.

Door after door after door... name after name after name. Leo isn't sure if it's the dyslexia acting up, or the injuries he sustained, but with every door he passes, it's getting harder to distinguish the words...

Vitcro Flaco... Rublolhp Crobato... Tlyod O'Foole... Ztayon Hnoyectut...

Wait, what was that last one?

Leo does a double take and stares at the nameplate on the door. Despite his headache flaring up the dyslexia, he deciphers the strange code as Zayton Honeycutt.

"Bingo," he chuckles to himself before kicking the door down with all the might he can manage. He secretly makes yet another mental note to thank Draxum for whatever he put in the ooze that made him and his brothers so freaking strong...

There's a loud yipe from inside as the door falls to the ground. Leo rushes in and finds a fidgety, nervous old man sitting on a pathetic cot in the middle of what looks like a mini lab or workspace. It's even smaller than Dee's traincar bedroom... The man on the bed has a long and frizzy white beard, accompanied by even frizzier white tufts of hair on his balding head. There are deep circles under his eyes, and his thin frame shakes terribly.

"W-who are -- what are --" he stammers, adjusting the glasses perched on his nose.

"No time," Leo grunts, tripping slightly as he runs up to the old guy. "You're Honeycutt, right? Friend of Casey Jones Jr. and Agent Bishop?"

"Bishop?" Honeycutt whimpers, standing to his feet immediately. "Is he okay? And C-Casey, the boy, did the EPF find him or --"

"Casey's fine, he's here actually," Leo says, grabbing the old man's hand. "We're getting you guys out of here."

Honeycutt nods softly before eyeing the rest of the teenager.

"You look terrible."

"How shocking," Leo jokes.

"That sounds like a very poignant joke..." Honeycutt trembles, quickly inspecting the marks on Leo's plastron. "I'm guessing the wordplay has some truth to it?"

"I'll be fine. C'mon, we're heading to the roof --"

"Wait!" Honeycutt interjects, pulling away quickly and running to the other side of the room. "I need to get some things first..."

"What--?! We're kind of on a deadline here!" Leo gripes.

"I know, I understand, but I have to take SAL with me."

"Who's Sal?" Leo asks, glancing around the room carefully. "A pet goldfish or something?"

"No, SAL is my life's work," Honeycutt chuckles. "You see, I've been working to create artificial intelligence -- an artificial lifeform, if you will. A mechanical body with a genuine mind... and maybe even a soul. But that's for the philosophers to work out, I'm interested in seeing if it's possible to create consciousness within a machine!"

"Wait, you mean AI?" Leo clarifies, somewhat taken aback. "Doesn't that usually result in like... killer robots that destroy humanity?"

"Well... Yes," Honeycutt sighs. "My last attempt was quite... violent, to be truthful. I assume you've met Ms. Campbell by now?"

"Not yet, who's she?" Leo asks, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one is in the hall. He thought he heard something...

"Well, she was my last attempt at creating artificial intelligence," Honeycutt explains, as he packs up several irreplaceable-looking tools and gadgets. "But I got impatient with the code and morality matrixes, and I may have borrowed some data from... unfriendly sources."

"Sounds riveting," Leo says impatiently as he goes to push the old man and his oversized tin toy through the door, "You and Donnie should schedule a brunch meetup or something. But we got to go, NOW."

Honeycutt gasps and freezes as Leo tries to shove him again. He hears a click.

Leo looks up and sees a woman standing in the doorway, holding what Leo pathetically hopes is a toy blaster, and not the real thing.

"A-Abigail," Honeycutt gasps, smiling nervously as his entire body starts trembling with fear. "W-what a surprise!"

"Yeah," the woman says, sounding almost as nervous as him. "It really is. What are you doing, Zayton?"

"W-well, there was an evacuation going on, wasn't there--?"

"Don't play dumb with me, we both know you're too smart for that to work," Abigail growls. She slowly trains the blaster at the two of them, eyes darting back and forth, unsure of who to glare at. "...How could you betray us like this?!"

"B-betray?" Honeycutt stutters.

"Look, maybe we can continue this confrontation at a later date, or maybe never --" Leo attempts.

"You were going to sell us out!" Abigail yells, stomping forward and forcing Professor Honeycutt to take several steps back, along with Leo behind him. "Chaplin told us EVERYTHING! You and that rogue agent were going to go to the police?! With all our work?! All of MY work, Zayton?!"

"I-I'm sorry, Abigail," Honeycutt stammers. "But it was getting out of hand..."

"You don't even understand the meaning of the word!" she screams in his face. "OUT OF HAND?! You were right alongside us, performing your own experiments on the monster! You were using the funding, just like we were! You got your share, and you thought you could just run away?!"

Leo takes several steps to distance himself from Honeycutt, staring in shock. He knew that he worked here, knew he was involved, but... is what she saying true? Did he do things to Mikey??

Honeycutt flinches when he feels Leo move away. He glances back at him, trying to study his expression. Leo figures he must look terrified, because when the old man sees him, he looks remorseful, guilty, and hurt.

"I... I never wanted to... I didn't know what they were..."

Abigail laughs haughtily, tears in her eyes as her hands shake with pure burning rage.

"You didn't know?!" she sneers. "You were the one building the mechs, the training simulators, the ice gun, the extra-strength cattle prods and tasers, the robots -- you built us killing machines, and you DIDN'T KNOW?!"

Honeycutt trembles, shrinking under her accusations.

"And then you have the audacity to switch sides?! Turn Benedict Arnold on us and sell out your associates and friends?!" she screams, bringing the tricked-out laser gun closer to her face and pointing it at the two of them. "You... you traitor. I trusted you. Believe it or not, I trusted you. More than Chaplin, more than Timothy. I always pegged you as the level-headed one, the one person here I could count on not to lose his mind --"

"That's what I'm trying to say!" Honeycutt cries out, throwing his hands in the air. "I joined the EPF because I had a dream! Like you! Probably like most of the people who got sucked into the corporation! But it's not a corporation, it's a #%?!&@$ CULT! It's an insane asylum where the patients are running the show and the only people who have any real thoughts left are the ones in a cage!! Do you have any idea what my existence was like after Chaplin got here?! I was a prisoner loooong before he locked me in my room! And yes, I did what I was told -- because I saw what happened to people who stepped out of line! You know exactly what I'm talking about!! Remember that one guard who assaulted Mikey with the taser?! Do you know, do you remember what happened to him?!"

"Yes I do," Dr. Finn snarls. "His brain is in a jar in my lab."

Honeycutt goes pale.

"Oh. Well, last I heard, he had been mutated and caged... um, but it still proves my point! Anyone who goes against Chaplin or the TCRI --"

"That's different!" Abigail Finn defends. "He attacked the subject and almost damaged the brain --"

"And that justifies experimentation and execution?!" Honeycutt shouts back. "Chaplin is not the law, he's neither judge nor jury! He has no right to do the things he's been doing!! Can't you see how insane this is?!"

Honeycutt sighs and lowers his arms, hanging his head.

"Please... Abigail... You have to see this for what it is. I never wanted to betray anyone, but this has gone on long enough. People are getting hurt. I just... I wanted to leave."

Honeycutt slowly looks back up at her. Her hands shake softly, her eyes burn red with tears. She grits her teeth and grips the gun tighter.

"...Why do you think I came up here?" she growls. "I came to get you out."

Honeycutt's eyes go wide.

"Wait, what? Really? Then what are we even doing here; put the gun down and let's get --"

"NO," Abigail Finn growls, readjusting her stance. "Not yet."

Leo suddenly realizes that the gun isn't pointed at Prof. Honeycutt. It was never pointed at the professor. It was pointed at him.

Leo's hands slowly raise up, and he takes another step back. Dr. Finn takes one step forward.

"Abigail, what are you..?" Honeycutt asks, head bouncing back and forth as he looks between the two of them. "Abby... Abigail, s-stop!"

"You're coming with me, Honeycutt," she growls low. "We're getting out of here. But him?" Her face contorts into a snarl. "He's not going anywhere."

"You're not actually gonna shoot me, are you?" Leo laughs nervously. "You wouldn't -- I'm unarmed!"

"But we both know that you're still a living weapon," Abigail sneers. "Just like Chaplin always said about your brother..."

"Abby, stop! Please! What would you have to gain from this?!" Honeycutt pleads.

"I have everything to lose," she says, voice cracking as she steps closer. "Those turtles will destroy everything I've ever worked for. I'm not about to lose my life's work over a few sewer monsters!"

She points the gun straight at Leo, staring him point-blank in the face. He knows he can't escape, not with the condition he's in. There's no way out of here. Abigail's finger traces over the trigger...

"Just stay out of my way..."

Honeycutt steps in between the two.

"No."

Abigail's brow furrows as she glares at her former coworker.

"Zayton? What are you... get out of my way! This doesn't concern you --"

"Yes it does," Honeycutt says defiantly. "You can't hurt him."

"Watch me."

"No," he says again, guarding Leo.

Leo, who happens to find this whole scenario ironic. Shouldn't he be the one guarding Honeycutt?? But Here he is, watching in fear as a frail old man protects his life from this nutty lady.

"No, I won't move. I'm done being afraid, I'm done pretending like my absence of a choice isn't a choice in and of itself. I've been hiding for too long, letting you get away with everything. No more. I'm taking a stand for once in my life. I can't let you do this, Abby."

"Stay out of this," she seethes, gripping the magazine and handle of the blaster with all her might.

Honeycutt shakes his head.

"I'm done staying out of it."

Bang!

Leo instinctively ducks as soon as he hears the blast, before looking up in shock as the old man defending him doubles over in pain, gripping his chest as Abigail Finn panics and runs away in terror.

"What... no... No! No, no, no!" Leo screams, grabbing the old man by the shoulders and trying desperately to help him. "S-stay with me, okay?! Stay, stay here, I-I'll..."

Honeycutt gasps and gags, choking on his own blood. There's a small but deep hole where a lung is located. Leo guesses that Dr. Finn meant to shoot through the doctor and hit him... but it doesn't even matter now; Leo has to act fast. His hands are already stained red as he attempts to apply pressure to the wound...

Honeycutt grips Leo's fingers with his own, pulling him close as he gasps and fights for air.

"P-please... there's not much time," he wheezes hoarsely. "You... you n-need to get out of h-here. F-find Bishop, g-g-get the... the proof... get it out, s-so n-nothing will ha-happen t-to... to your.... y-your brother... I-I'm sorry for the p-part I played in... in it all..... but... h-hopef-fully this m-makes up for... for everything...... g..go, now......"

"No, I'm not leaving you here!" Leo growls, gritting his teeth. "I'm saving you, I'm getting you out of this mess!"

"I'm already dead," Honeycutt chuckles, before choking and hacking up blood. "I'm lost, kid... just... just go, qu-quick..."

"NO, there's gotta be someway I can save you!"

Leo glances around the room frantically, searching for something, anything he can use --

His eyes fall on the robot laying on the floor by his side. SAL.

"...You said you were trying to put consciousness into a robot, right?" Leo tries, tears streaking down his face in desperation as he runs out of options. "How??"

"The... the port..." Honeycutt manages, his voice fading as he struggles to keep his eyes open. "The... there's a cable... o-on the t...table..... blue ssssstripes..."

Leo sets him down carefully and grabs the large blue cord from the table. The end of said cable has several metal prongs connected inside of it, matching a port opening. Leo finally sticks it in after three tries, then turns to the doctor.

"O-okay, what now?!" he begs. "What do I do?!"

"The... the hel.... th'helmet..." Honeycutt exhales, his finger weakly lifting, falling, and shaking as he attempts to point to a corner cabinet.

Leo jumps into action, practically pouncing on the cabinet and shoveling supplies out as he frantically searches for the device. He eventually finds what looks like a metal bike helmet, complete with blinky lights and switches.

"Okay, okay, I think I've got it, now what?"

Honeycutt doesn't respond. Leo whirls around to look at him. His chest is starting to fall.

"No... No! No, not yet! Not when I can -- NO!"

Leo moves. Fast, desperate, swift, and with very little thinking involved.

"Really wish Donnie was here!" he gripes as he snatches the cable from the desk and shoves it into the helmet. A three-pronged needle sticks out from the other side where the porthole would be. Leo grimaces as he thinks of the pain that will follow. "Sorry, doc, but this is probably gonna sting..."

Leo drops to his knees by the professor and drives the helmet onto his head. The needles click into the nape of the neck. The lights flash, and the old man suddenly screams, his body convulsing on the ground as the device does its work.

Leo has to force himself to keep from covering his mouth at the screams; his hands are still bloody and he doesn't want to get the Professor's blood anywhere it shouldn't be. The professor shrieks in pain as the cable brightens up and blue light flows from the helmet to the little robot laying on the floor beside them. His body jerks, back and forth, the robot begins to tremble and jerk as well. A garbled, staticy shriek starts to emanate from the speakers where its mouth would be.

Suddenly, both bodies freeze and fall limp. The professor goes silent, his skin pale and shirt soaked with blood. His chest falls, his breathing ceases.

He's dead.

"...D-doc?" Leo whimpers. "Hello? Did... did it work? Please, tell me I didn't just --"

Leo hears groaning. It's robotic, staticy, almost like autotune. It slowly starts to refocus, becoming clearer and easier to understand. It sounds like... like...

"...Professor?" Leo whispers, hovering over the metal body with baited breath.

The robot -- SAL -- stirs, before slowly sitting up and placing a mechanical hand to its head.

"ᴜɢʜʜ… ᴡᴇʟʟ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀɴ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴀᴛ."

Leo reels backwards from the robot half his size, as it slowly starts to stand.

"ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅɪᴅ… ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴅᴏ…?" it asks, in Honeycutt's voice. "ᴡʜʏ ɪꜱ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴛᴀʟʟᴇʀ? ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜʏ ᴅᴏ ɪ --"

The robot Honeycutt halts, staring down at the new body it he has acquired.

"ᴏʜ. ᴏʜ. ᴏʜʜʜʜ -- ᴏʜ ��ʏ ɢᴏᴅ, ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴᴇ?! ɪ -- ɪ --"

"You're welcome?" Leo tries, slowly getting off the floor and to his feet as he watches the Professor come to terms with his new form. "If that really is you... Right? Doc?"

"ɪᴛ… ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴍᴇ, ɪ… ᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏʜ ᴅᴇᴀʀ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴜꜱᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ…"

"Can you walk?" Leo asks nervously.

"ɪ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ꜱᴏ," he replies slowly. "ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴀ ᴜꜱᴇʀ ᴍᴀɴᴜᴀʟ ᴅᴏᴡɴʟᴏᴀᴅᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ…"

"Well, read it on the way, okay?" Leo sighs with relief, taking the robot's hand and dragging him away. "We got to GO."

Prev || Next

[comicaurora]

Hi Red! I was curious if you've watched the new Yu Yu Hakusho live action, and if so, what your thoughts were on its pacing and handling of various plots. Personally I thought it did some very clever things and it genuinely pleasantly surprised me at a couple points, but at the same time the fact that it's only 5 episodes hurt its ability to do the story justice a bit.

Also I was rewatching the Dark Tournament arc of the anime today and wondering what it must've been like to watch when it originally aired, considering all the multi episode fights. Do you remember any of your thoughts at the time?

On an unrelated note, I'm really excited for arc 2 of Aurora!!!! Also sorry this is so ramble-y

I have watched it! For the most part, I really enjoyed it, although in pursuit of compressing everything down to five episodes it did a couple things I think definitely harmed the overall impact and characterization.

Spoilers below!

The first episode is I think nearly pitch-perfect. The visual design on the Spirit World is top-tier, and the choice to make everything that was a sacred artifact move like ferrofluid was a very clever bit of visual design. It's absolutely weird and original and I think it was a very fun way to spice up Fluffy Cloud Heaven.

Of all the things they sped through, I'm very glad they did not speed through the crucial characterization of Yusuke initially choosing to stay dead on the assumption that everyone is better off without him, and the show subsequently taking its time to show the wake, let Yusuke's mom and Keiko really feel their feelings, etcetera. The adaptation of the wake was, to my memory, almost 100% true to the anime version, including the gut-wrenching moments like Kuwabara starting off angry and then breaking down, and the toddler Yusuke saved not really understanding that he's dead. And I had no complaints about the parts of this arc that they did speed up - a lot of the timeline of the original show is training arcs and Yusuke having to prove himself, and I had almost no problem with them skipping over that. Yusuke not having to do any tasks before coming back to life is A-OK with me.

I also entirely lost my shit at The Dropkick.

And then the last bit of episode 1, where they have to deal with the possessed kid, was absolutely top tier. The way they make demonic possession look and feel in this show is truly horrific, and I loved the way they played it like a one-man zombie apocalypse. The fight choreography was also very impressive and I liked how much they used the environment. Also, letting Kuwabara fight this guy first was a very good way of making the power-scaling clear and establishing that Kuwabara is a fundamentally very decent person willing to punch above his weight class to try and help.

However, this episode did get me excited for something they ended up not doing, which was a bummer. The first thing we see in the show is a Makai insect, which in the anime are the tools of the villains in the Four Saint Beasts arc - at the climax of that storyline, Makai-insect-possessed students and faculty corner Keiko and Botan in the human world while Yusuke fights an increasingly desperate battle against Suzaku to try and stop him. If the full-on body horror zombie thing was what makai insect possession looked like, that scenario immediately seemed like it was going to be butt-clenchingly terrifying.

Of course, they ended up entirely sidestepping the Saint Beasts arc, which is understandable - narratively speaking its only real function is to let the four protagonists team-build after their contentious first meetings. It became clear pretty quickly that with the time they had, it wouldn't be worth it to go there. That said, I think they really could've used a little more team-building time - more on that later.

The first episode also pretty solidly established the tone they'd be taking for the rest of the show - much more dark, almost no comedy. Normally I find those sorts of adaptations pretty dour and joyless, but in this case I thought it helped make the stakes feel solid, and if anything it lined up better with the original premise of "the demon world is a truly horrifying place and its incursion into reality would be an absolute nightmarish apocalypse." I didn't mind that it felt like the stakes were real and the heroes fighting demons was really necessary.

The second episode made it pretty clear where they were going with the series adaptation. While it speeds through the intro of Goki, Kurama and Hiei, it also lets Yusuke's fight with Goki feel - again - extremely well-choreographed and tense. The choreography in this show is consistently very impressive, especially considering how often our heroes have to fight fully CGI bad guys - and this fight doesn't even have any dialogue in it, but it still makes it entirely clear what Yusuke is thinking at every point, which is very impressive, especially since he goes through an entire arc from "I don't need to figure out how to use the Spirit Gun" to "I desperately need the spirit gun to start working right the fuck now". They also handle Kurama's intro very well, making it very clear that he's cunning and kind of inscrutable but not necessarily malicious, and in the scene where Yusuke's tailing him it's pretty clear from the choreography that Kurama knows he's there and is very carefully waiting long enough for him to follow him without feeling like he's being lured, which is entirely in-character, and again a very impressive way to show characterization without any dialogue required. And of course the reveal that Kurama is in fact a Nice Boy who is trying to sacrifice himself to save his mom is real good, and letting Yusuke's past experience with seeing how his mom reacted to his death make him immediately ride or die for Kurama was a very solid bit of characterization - and adding Kuwabara to this subplot where he wasn't originally there helped balance out the characterization a little bit with an entirely justified naysayer pointing out "dude he's a demon maybe don't trust him immediately." It also helps get Kuwabara involved in the main story nice and quick, where he originally is a bit of a late arrival.

The part I was getting a little worried about at this point, and an element of the adaptation that I legitimately think is a detriment, was how they were handling Hiei. A huge part of what makes Hiei fun in the original series is that he is legitimately a huge bastard, and in his introduction is a full-blown bad guy who Yusuke very nearly dies fighting. Classic Hiei kidnapped Keiko and nearly turned her into a demon just to fuck with Yusuke. And what makes their relationship great is the team-building that happens in the Four Saint Beasts arc the adaptation is evidently skipping over, where Hiei is so baffled - and so touched - by Yusuke's completely unearned trust in him that he immediately becomes 100% ride or die for Yusuke and only Yusuke.

He's a vicious little asshole who takes himself very seriously and legitimately has the power to back up his grandstanding 90% of the time, and that's what makes him so fun to watch - those little slivers of characterization where he's goofy or baffled or vulnerable or lets himself be visibly impressed with one of his teammates, mixed with the moments where he's like "okay this has been fun but it's time to die now" and just one-shots the bad guy with another dangerous forbidden technique he picked up for shits and giggles.

So I was getting a little worried that the adaptation wasn't gonna let Hiei be, like. An actual asshole. Because what makes him fun as a character is that he is an asshole, he just also has a handful of sympathetic motivations and nice qualities that he usually doesn't own up to. And I ended up being right about that, which was a bummer, but again, the way they did it was a bit of extremely efficient streamlining. In the anime, Hiei's introduction is just him being a dick for no reason - then everyone has a team-building bonding arc with the Four Saint Beasts, and then Hiei is revealed to have a real heroic motivation hiding somewhere in there: rescuing his secret twin sister Yukina from a nasty human holding her prisoner.

So the adaptation basically just streamlined the entire rest of the show into that arc. Hiei's intro stealing the fancy knife? He's using it to get the Jagan Eye to look for Yukina. Hiei storming this compound full of humans? They're the ones holding Yukina prisoner. It's 100% sympathetic, he's just not willing to own up to that to anybody. Everything he does that's dubiously moral or kind of a dick move? It's actually fine, or he's being framed (like in the shot they perfectly remake from the anime where he kidnaps Keiko, except just kidding it's a shapeshifting bad guy framing him), or Yusuke's the one who attacks him in the first place.

And that's extremely efficient storytelling! It just makes Hiei kind of an antisocial dick and not even slightly a villain, which I think dramatically reduces how fun his character is - it just flattens him into a very standard-issue lancer archetype who refuses to express any sort of emotional or physical vulnerability to anyone, which is a fine character trope, it's just kind of more boring than the dickhead outdoor cat I was hoping for.

The same thing also happens to Genkai, who in the original series has dozens of episodes of screentime to show off how she is the best kind of mentor ever written - a dickhead mentor.

She's rude and snarky and a full-blown asshole, and she and Yusuke have a truly hilarious mentor-stydent dynamic because they're both assholes. And it's not until a good way into the Dark Tournament that we see them in a dynamic that's not just being assholes to each other - when Genkai consolidates all her power into a sporb for Yusuke to absorb, and he spends several episodes nearly dying about it. The fact that Genkai truly cares about him as her student - and the fact that he truly cares about her as his master - only comes out in this subplot, when she honestly believes she's fucked up and killed him and he goes beyond his limits to absorb the power she's given him. It's a beautiful moment of payoff after dozens of episodes of planting, and right after that happens, Genkai is killed.

So when the live-action show introduced Genkai, and after a good solid montage of training and anime-accurate fight scenes and some really good Kuwabara moments, she told Yusuke she had one final technique to give him, I said out loud "oh my god please don't speedrun this." And then they did. She gave Yusuke the sporb and he absorbed it immediately and painlessly, and then they left, and then she immediately gets killed.

My notes on that part were just

So I didn't like that part. Like Hiei, Genkai is such an effective character because her moments of vulnerability and non-assholeness are so rare, and the rest of the time she's an absolute goblin nightmare. Getting rid of that reduces her to another, much flatter trope, and killing her in the same episode she's introduced almost entirely removes the impact of the moment and just makes her another dead mentor. But again, this is episode 3 of 5. This isn't the writer's fault, this is the writers making a very hard decision on what they need to get into the plot if they're planning on speedrunning the entire Dark Tournament arc - which they are. The primary rule they seemed to use when adapting Yu Yu Hakusho is "if the heroes fought this bad guy more than once, no they didn't." So the first fight with the Toguro brothers is going to become the only fight with the Toguro brothers, and they need to speedrun the entire core plot of the Dark Tournament arc within the confines of Toguro's introduction in the Rescue Yukina arc.

And the thing is, hot take? I'm not mad about that. The Dark Tournament is an iconic moment in Shonen anime history, but like. it's a tournament arc. Like all tournament arcs, it goes on a very long time, a lot of it is extremely repetitive, and it eventually arrives at the foregone conclusion end state of "team protagonist vs team final boss". In a five-episode adaptation, you pick the smallest number of good fights with real stakes and you just use those. And that's what they do here. Kurama and Hiei both get little bottle-episode fights with their respective most plot-relevant opponents from the Dark Tournament, and they both get to show off their dangerous forbidden techniques.

And it slaps. It could've used more buildup for maximum punch, but again, five episodes. And frankly in the original they didn't get much buildup either, just "this is a thing I've been working on, hopefully I don't die about it."

And consistently, the fight choreography continues to be really good. The physicality of the actors is very solid and the way CGI attacks and opponents get worked into the choreography is so fluid it's sometimes hard to tell where the CGI ends. And considering the final boss is two full-CGI photorealistic bad guys, I think they do an incredibly good job making the fights feel real and solid.

Characterization-wise, since so much of the final episode is just a lot of fighting against a big damage sponge, there's not a ton of time for talking, but the choreography is, again, a standout. Even outside combat, the secondary characters get a lot of little moments to shine - even Damsel In Distress Du Jour Keiko gets to pull the "oh no, I, your valuable prisoner, am sick, please come into my cell within easy throttling range" trick and breaks herself and Yukina out, which slaps and makes the whole breakout feel like much more of a team effort, and it also lets Keiko and Yukina share some brief but extremely tender moments of characterization that does a lot to make them feel like well-rounded characters. And back in the main fight zone, the characters don't have much dialogue but show where they're at through how they move. Everyone is exhausted and beaten down and has already used their finishing moves, but Yusuke's in trouble, so it's time to scramble back up and tackle the bad guy. It's just such good choreo and such good acting that it makes me forgive a lot of the pacing struggles they're dealing with from boiling everything down to 5 episodes, and without dialogue - just through fight choreography - they manage to make me buy the teamwork dynamic they've thus far failed to establish due to speedrunning past all the stuff that's supposed to help them bond. This is the first part of the show that makes me believe that Hiei has any affection for the gang and any reason to fight alongside them beyond coincidence.

And they continued the trend of hitting all the major plot beats from the stuff they were speedrunning, which led to me counting down the minutes to the Kuwabara Fake-Dies To Motivate Yusuke moment.

The rest of the fight is pretty much just a shot-for-shot adaptation of the final stage of the Toguro bossfight, plus the added fun that it's the first time in the show Yusuke has actually yelled "spirit gun" out loud, which is neat. And it took every second of those five episodes, but in the closing scene they finally reached the group dynamic I was hoping for.

All things considered, given the parameters they had to work in, I think this is the best we could've possibly gotten in only five episodes. I would've probably preferred one where instead of cramming the entire dark tournament into three episodes they just left it alone and just did Rescue Yukina plus maybe the Saint Beasts, but if this is what we were getting, this was a very solid way to do it. I, at least, had an overall very good time, and have been thinking about rewatching it, which is wild since it's only been like three weeks since I watched it the first time. But yea, overall the pacing is wild but I think there was a lot of love and thought put into it, and it really shows.

[viridian-house]

Do you have any favorite naruto fics you’d recommend? Any pairing, complete or not, on-hiatus, gen, oneshots, anything is fine lol

I was legitimately just pruning my bookmarks the other day!! thank you so much for asking.

I don't read too much fanfic these days, and I'm picky when I do--only about grammar/punctuation and immersion though. I ship a LOT of stuff (I guess The Youth would call me a proshipper) and although I never read darkfic, I don't shy away from weirder kinks and unhealthy relationship stuff.

categorizing by pairing, if applicable. some of them are smutty, and please note that the first 3 come from FFN which doesn't have a tagging system, but there is some SA CW I'll give in advance.

KAKASAKU | my first OTP! formative fics that totally reshaped my understanding of what fanfiction could be, and how well-written chemistry can make it or break it

HOUSE OF CROWS is the quintessential kakasaku fanfic. it was written during shippuden and so is canon divergent because of that, but also tells a comprehensive story of its own right that is intriguing and well planned. excellent characterization and world building. leaves me gutted in the best way on my yearly reread.

DUTY BEFORE HONOR is another silvershine classic. I don't reread is as often as House of Crows but they are just about equal in quality. again, the chemistry between them is off the charts, and the world feels so alive.

WILL OF FIRE for me is up there with House of Crows in being essential kakasaku reading. cynchick is a multisaku champion and a wonderful storyteller. the stakes in this one are stressful, the romance tense and believable, and we once again get lovely world building and great chemistry.

ITAKISA | a pairing near and dear to me, because men who do everything wrong are so deeply relatable. they both know they don't deserve anything good ever again but they found each other!!!! ARE YOU GUYS SEEING THIS--

A SHARK HIDDEN INN THE LEAVES doesn't have my favorite version of Kisame, but he's plenty close enough. it's a lengthy oneshot that got me into certain *ahem* kinks. it is a very fun and wild fic that is entirely self-aware of how absurd it's being, and manages to have nothing but sincerity at the same time (and I highly recommend the author's other stories as well)

AN ORCHESTRA PLAYING ON, INSANE is a modern AU (extremely rare in my bookmarks) that absolutely tore my heart out. god is it SO much to ask for these losers to be happy?! yes, it is, and I love every moment of it

MADAMITO | a rarepair I am SUCH a sucker for that has some of the most talented authors writing for it. lots of them have ot3 elements between them and hashirama, often angsty, but stuff like that is part of the appeal for me, lol

A HANDFUL OF SKY is an unfinished fic that I genuinely think about like once a week. if it ever updates then I will be over the moon. technically hashimadamito but it hadn't quite gotten there yet

LIKE ALTARS is just such a beautiful piece of writing, mostly on madara. it is everything, that is all

BLOOD AND RIVER WATER is more mito-centric but has one of my favorite madaras of all time

YOURS ARE RATTLED BONES is another short, mito-centric but gut-wrenching piece featuring the opposite type of madara from the last one

OTHER | character-centric stuff that isn't necessarily shippy but also doesn't have a very "gen" vibe either?

A SERPENT IN THE RICE is a little series about orochimaru that makes me feel so so so many things. highly recommended

HERETIC is such a love letter to kushina, and kurama too. cannot stress enough how much I adore this one

there's a few others that I probably won't link on tumblr, mostly unhealthy and/or "problematic" smut hhfhdj but maybe I'll make a public rec list on ao3 for these different categories and stuff like that.

but yeah that's pretty much it!!! I know it's not a huge list with a lot of variety but it's what I've enjoyed over the last 15+ years in the naruto fandom.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

I Know the End | Vol. 2

I Know the End

Poe Dameron x Reader

Fandom: Star Wars

Summary: You were one of the Rebellion’s greatest weapons in the Galactic Civil War, a Princess from a distant planet, a Jedi with wings. Now, you’ve found yourself in a new world, a new war, your old friends long gone.

When Poe Dameron was sent on a wild goose chase of a reconnaissance mission four systems out, he never expected to find the key to his heart…

Note: At long last, here it is. Thank you for your patience. I love you all. I honestly wrote this as a long-winded attempt to make Poe Dameron’s dumbest line “Somehow, Palpatine returned” into a gut-wrenching and emotional moment and it got way out of hand. I am no Star Wars expert, but I did a lot of research for this and consider myself waaaaaaay more of a SW nerd now than I was a mere two months ago. Could probably write a dissertation on it at this point (I say as I literally churned out a novel). It is my first time writing for the fandom, though, so, here goes nothing. I did make up a fair bit of stuff and a good handful of OCs for this. Let me know what you think!

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, lightsaber and blaster wounds, alcohol consumption, war and the implications of it, gets a little steamy but no smut, reader has nightmares, misuse of the Force, Rewriting the Rise of Skywalker a lil bit…

Word Count: 82.7k total (Split into four approximately 20k chunks)

Reader Is: 24, a Jedi, a Princess, has butterfly wings

Vol 1. | Vol 2. | Vol 3. | Vol 4.

Charms in Trees

A few small battles came and went. It was pilot stuff, mostly. They’d go, blow up a First Order transport, and be back in time for dinner. You always offered your help, but it was never needed. Still, you’d take any excuse to go see Poe, especially in that orange jumpsuit. You weren’t sure what it was about it, but you couldn’t get enough of it.

Sometimes you thought about taking it off of him.

It was a growing problem, your little unspoken thing. You’d forgotten just how all-encompassing a crush could be, especially when it was as attainable as the one sitting in front of you right now. You shared a base, lived just down the hall from him. Maker, you could feel that he felt the same way about you, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to shatter the normalcy.

Part of you wanted him to do it, finally take that leap of faith. You were patient. You could wait.

So you did.

Supplies began to dwindle, so you put on a utility uniform and went with some of the others to get more, lifting boxes with your arms instead of your mind. You helped Aspen and some of the other mechs with repairs. You spent time with Soren, both training and not. He was fun to hang out with, a funny guy. Had your sense of humor.

He told you that Laesynda had taken him out to Mariposas a few times when he was growing up. They’d leave flowers outside your pod, light a candle for a while and tell stories. It was haunting, almost, the funerals people held for you despite the fact that you weren’t dead.

Poe had been refurbishing an old X-Wing in his free time, which wasn’t very much to begin with. Leia had been upping his responsibilities, clearly bracing for something. Whether it was an attack or a defensive move, you couldn’t tell, but it had him stressed out.

On a beautiful afternoon, you looked for him in the hangar, armed with some baked goods. BB-8 chirped to welcome you and Poe kicked a shelf in shock, a toolbox teetering for a moment before it started its descent straight on top of him. You caught it in mid-air. The tools floated out of the box, your arm outstretched, heart racing. You set them all down gently, safely away from that pretty face of his.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, Dameron. Came here with a peace offering.”

“Peace offering?” He asked, rolling himself out from under the X-Wing. He peeled his work gloves off, dusting himself off as best as he could.

It looked pretty close to finished, you noted, looking it over. It would need a paint job, of course, but all of the major parts seemed to be accounted for.

“Finn said you’ve been in a mood lately…” You admitted. “Figured I’d bring you something to take your mind off it.”

He grinned, looking at the gift and then up at you. There it was, that infamous flyboy grin of his. “Sunshine, you’re all I need to take my mind off of it. But these are appreciated, too.”

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, handing him the container of sweets. “How’s it going in here? It looks good.”

“Thanks. Should be done soon.” He reported, busting into the box and biting into the sweet, berry-filled tart. “And then we’ll really be in business.”

“I’m sorry about your other one, by the way. I feel partially responsible for that.”

“It wasn’t my first. I knew it wouldn’t be my last.” He chuckled. “At least it got to go out with a bang.”

“And some flames, as well. It was on fire, last I saw it.”

“I am glad I got to take you for a spin in it, though. Think I could get you into this new one sometime?”

“I’m always down for a joyride.” You told him, eyes sparkling, words sincere. “Let me know when it’s done and I can try to fit you into my busy Jedi princess schedule.”

“You’re serious.”

“Always.” You nodded. “I’ve been wanting to spend more time with you.”

He pouted, gazing at you through those dark lashes, a little bit of fruit filling stuck to the corner of his stupidly pink lips. His tongue poked out to get it, but failed. “Wish I’d known that a week ago, I would have carved out more time.”

“Don’t worry about it, Commander.” You said, resting a hand against his chest. You reached up with the other hand, gently wiping corner of his lips. “I know you’re busy, too.”

He held your hand against his cheek, meeting your eyes. “Not too busy for you, your Highness.”

“Good.” You replied, thumb gently stroking his stubble.

He turned his face, pressing a soft kiss to the pad of your thumb. He met your eyes, gaze all innocent despite the way your cheeks were flushing. “Did you get it?”

“I did.” You nodded, making a speedy recovery. “Couldn’t let the best pilot in the Resistance walk around with jam on his face, could I?”

“Well, thank you, for the treats, for sparing my reputation, all of it.” His eyes scanned down your face as you finally removed your hand from the side of his. “You got anything going on today, (Y/N)?”

“Training.”

“Mmm. What time?”

“Soon.” You said, glancing at the watch around your wrist. It had been Luke’s, Leia had given it to you. “About fifteen minutes.”

“Could you move that panel for me real quick?” He asked, pointing up at the wing of his X-Wing, where a patch of machinery was exposed, a heavy piece of sheet metal leaning up against it.

“Oh yeah. Absolutely.”

He set his box of tarts on the workbench and rolled a ladder over to the X-Wing while you lifted the wing cover into place, arms out in front of you, the heavy piece floating in mid-air. He stopped and watched for a second, chuckling to himself.

“What?”

“Still getting used to it, is all.” He confessed, gently pushing the piece into place, where you held it until he started bolting it into place. “This thing weighs like two hundred pounds, and you just…You’re amazing. You know that?”

“You think that’s cool, you should see what I can do with some pretty hefty rocks.”

He glanced over his shoulder at you, the whir of his wrench stopping. “Oh I’m sure it’s phenomenal.”

“Anything else you need while I’m here?”

He shook his head. “I’m all set. Good luck with training. I hope you…you know, move things good.”

“I’ll certainly try.” You chuckled, turning and leaving the hangar.

Over and over in your head, you watched him turn his face and press the gentlest kiss to your thumb. You may have been the one with wings, but he was always the one that gave you butterflies.

***

Your final bits of training that day just so happened to be wing-centric. That morning, you’d flitted from tree to tree, hanging metal charms in the branches with lengths of twine. Rey had been given some other independent activities to work on, but it was clear you and Soren had some ground to cover, or…not cover, flight being the main objective here.

The two of you stared up at them. He looked at you for instructions, but you simply repeated what you’d already said.

“Go get them.”

“What, with the Force?”

“Nope. We’ve been using the Force for hours. Time to stretch those wings, little prince.”

He laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been up that high before.”

“That’s why I need you to be comfortable with it. If you go about it the right way, you can get some serious height. More, if you strengthen your wings with practice and exercise, and more yet if you use the Force for a little boost.”

“Could you…show me?”

You chuckled, hands on your hips, looking up, up, up at the charms. Yeah, that would definitely be a bit daunting if it was your first time flying. “Sure. I’m not gonna cut them down, though, because I’ll have to go up there and hang them all again.”

You spread your wings, shaking the accumulated dust and humidity collected on them from Ajan Kloss’ temperate ecosystem. And then you took off, running at a stump on the ground and using it as a springboard, wings carrying you to the first branch, where you hit the hanging charm sending it swinging.

You flipped from the first branch to the next, a few feet higher, touching that charm before heading to the next, and the next. You were like a dancer, graceful, fluid, gliding from branch to branch, using your limited flight to climb until you were near the top of the highest tree in your training grounds. You took a moment to look out at the camp, admire the Resistance crew bustling from building to building, doing their daily tasks to keep your movement up and running.

And then, doing one last somersault, you dove down, catching yourself with your wings and a burst of air, kicking up the leaves scattered on the forest floor.

Soren stared with wide eyes, Rey having joined him on the ground.

“And you expect me to do…that?”

“Not all of it.” You assured him. “That last jump is definitely something you’ll have to build towards. It’s a leap of faith. But that’s why I’m here, to catch you if the landing isn’t going so smooth.”

“Alright.” He nodded. “I can try.”

“Do or do not. There is no try.” You said, the words familiar, even if they weren’t yours. Sometimes the Force spoke through you; you could feel that this was one of those times. “Aim for five charms today. Any more than that and I’ll be impressed.”

Soren looked up at the first charm, on a low, sturdy branch, deceptively close to the ground. Like you did, he took off at a run, using his wings to get some height and land–somewhat shakily–on the branch, but he did it, youthful face breaking into a grin.

“There you go!” You encouraged, Rey smiling as she watched.

“It’s really great, what you’re doing with him.” Rey said, voice sincere. She reached for your hand and you gave it to her, just as you had that very first day you met. Long ago, you and Leia had shared a sisterhood, and now you shared that with Rey.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

“I hope so. He’s…well, he’s my first Padawan. After you, of course, but you had a head start.”

“I wish you had been here when all of this started,” she confessed, squeezing your hand. “It would have been…nice to know I wasn’t alone in this.”

“You’re not alone.” You told her. “A long time ago…I was meditating, trying to find other Jedi out there. Luke and I thought we were alone, too. I found someone, another Jedi, a young woman. The Force works in mysterious ways, of course, because…it was you. You wouldn’t be born for another, what, eleven years? But I know it was you. We were meant to be here. I was meant to help you and…I plan on doing that. No matter what.”

Rey smiled, words failing her. She pulled you into her arms instead, resting her head against yours. You hugged her back, rubbing comforting circles in her shoulders.

“You know, I’ve always wanted a sister.” She admitted with a laugh, tears in her eyes.

“Well now you’ve got one.”

“I got seven charms, Aunt (Y/N).” Soren said, dangling them from their strings when you turned to look.

“How was the landing?”

“A little shaky, but…” He shrugged and then looked back up at the next charm, even higher than the last. “I think I could get another one.”

“Go ahead. Round two.” You encouraged, motioning him up into the tree.

Finn and Poe walked over not long after, chatting animatedly about something, BB-8 rolling alongside them. It was clear, even from that distance, that Finn was teasing him.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“She getting you up there next, Rey?” Finn asked, pointing up at the trees, where Soren had very clearly already gotten the hang of it, throwing a few flips and flourishes into his movements. You grinned, proud.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so.” Rey shook her head. “I will after you do.”

“Fair enough.” Finn chuckled. “How’s it going, ladies?”

“Good. Really good. Good, productive day today.” You said.

“Good view up there?” Poe asked, shielding his eyes as he glanced up at the highest branch, a glittering charm still hanging from a thread.

“Great view.” You said.

“I thought you said you could only cover short distances, that looks like quite a height.”

“You have to build up to it.” You told him, pointing to all the shorter branches on the way up to that point. “I can’t just fly straight up there. Maybe with some strength training, but these things aren’t what they used to be.” You gave them a flutter, noting the way his eyes caught on them yet again.

“Well, it looked great, from what I could see.”

“That’s high praise coming from you, flyboy.”

“Well, from one flyer to another…you’re a natural. Literally. You were born to be up there, doing that.”

You smiled, voice soft and sincere when you said, “So were you.”

“That means a lot, (Y/N).” He said, head turning downwards for a moment while he thought. “Anyway, uh, Finn and I were wondering if the two of you would join us at the cantina later? Rose’ll be there, too. Things have been so tense lately, we thought we could all blow off some steam.”

“I’d love to.”

Rey nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

“Just let me get changed into something more casual.” You said, flourishing the skirts of your Jedi robes.

“What, the robes aren’t fit for a night on the town?”

“The robes aren’t fit for…much other than looking solemn and kicking ass.” You said with a chuckle. “Unlike your flight suit, which is fit for any occasion.”

“Back to that, huh?” Poe grinned, letting out a laugh. “If you really like that thing so much, maybe I’ll wear it more often.”

You smirked. “I wouldn’t complain.”

“I would.” Finn chuckled. “It needs a good wash, buddy.”

“Alright, alright.”

You watched as Soren landed once again, wings powerful, stance strong. You gave him a nod, pride blossoming in your chest. He was getting there after all. Your training was working. You just hoped that, when danger came, he’d be ready for it.

You hoped you all would be.

Cards on the Table

You sat in your quarters with Rose and Rey, getting ready for your night out with the boys. You braided a few strands of your hair, tying them off with small gold rings at the end.

“This one?” Rey asked, holding the dress up against her frame, a sage green color. It was one of the ones you’d given her.

You nodded. “That color suits you. Brings out your eyes.”

Rey considered your words for a moment before beginning to change. Rose sat at your desk, looking through the accessories you’d pulled out. You plucked a pair of earrings from the collection, setting them in her palm.

“Are you sure? I’ve never worn a princess’ earrings before.” Rose said, staring at them. They were a pair of gold, dangling leaves. They’d go with the blouse she was wearing, a natural pattern on them.

“First time for everything.” You said with a shrug, turning your attention to your own outfit. A wine-colored top with a corset front, the back swooping just low enough for your wings. With it, you’d paired some dark brown pants with flared legs, a decorative gold belt made of metal hoops. You tucked your lightsaber into your bag, instead of displaying it at your hip.

“Oh this…” Rey struggled with the back of her dress. “I can’t get it to stay closed.”

“Here, let me.” You walked over and pulled ribbons from the sides of the dress, tying it closed above the large divot for where your wings went when you had worn it. “I sewed these in for Leia. She and I shared a closet during the Rebellion, more or less.”

Rey’s eyes scanned down her reflection, hands smoothing out the green fabric. “Thank you.”

“You look great.” You told her, words warm and reassuring. “You both do.”

“So do you!” Rose complimented.

A few minutes later, you decided you were ready, not that there was any pressure to be. This was just Finn and Poe you were talking about after all. But you had a feeling quite a few other members of the Resistance crew would be there.

The three of you arrived and it felt like time stopped. Poe and Finn were in a round booth in the corner and they both looked up, faces lit with anticipation at the sight of you. It felt good to be wearing something other than your robes or your standard Resistance gear, a luxury you did not take lightly.

They stood up and crossed the room, meeting you somewhere in the middle. Poe was wearing that leather jacket of his, the one you’d mistaken him for Han Solo in. Beneath it, a button-up that seemed to be missing a few buttons. You swore he was doing it on purpose.

“Hey, Princess.” He grinned. “Glad you made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Several Resistance folks milled about, dancing, playing games. A few droids manned the bar, where there were paper lanterns strung from the support beams, casting the room in warm, ambient light.

The five of you shimmied back into the booth, Poe going almost out of his way to make sure he got the seat next to yours, right on the end. His arm settled on the seat behind you, that strong sandalwood scent drifting from his pulse point. Maker, you could get lost in it.

When the droid taking drink orders came around, you each requested something, settling in for a nice, casual night.

A song you recognized came over the speakers in the corners of the room and you smiled. It was familiar. A place like this, people like these.

The more things changed…

“I requested some oldies for you.” Poe confessed, just about causing your heart to melt. “Thought it’d remind you of the good old days.”

“He put ten whole credits in the jukebox.” Finn tattled, earning a pointed look from the pilot. “Stood there forever picking out songs.”

“Well that was very sweet.” You said, leaning a little closer to him subconsciously. “Not to sound incredibly old, but the new music is still…growing on me, we’ll say.”

“How old were you?” Finn asked. “I’m sorry if that’s rude. I don’t think we’ve ever asked.”

“I’m twenty-four. I’ll be twenty-five in…well, I don’t know when my birthday falls now. Four months? Three months? Something like that. Give or take thirty years, of course.”

“You’re younger than me.” Poe murmured, almost in shock of the fact.

He’d taken it for granted, he guessed, just how young you were when they’d put you in that pod. But you’d existed his entire life, etched into legends and stories told by anyone who remembered the war. To him, you’d existed forever. But he was older than you, by eight years.

“Were you…alive when I was?” You asked, running the numbers in your mind.

“I’m thirty-two.” He said, meeting your eyes. There was an odd look in them, like he was asking permission for something. He chuckled, covering the flash of insecurity with a smirk and a quip. “I know I hardly look it.”

“You would have been really young, then.” You bit your lip, letting out a little laugh at the new information. The whole situation was ridiculous. You doubted your paths had ever crossed, so it didn’t matter, ultimately, but still. “That is a little weird.”

“It is.” Poe agreed, eyes still ever-searching yours for some sign that it was still okay, the feelings floating around his heart.

“That means you really are the Han of the group.” You said, in an attempt to diffuse the tension that had blossomed in his chest. It worked. You could feel it instantly. “He was like thirty and the rest of us were in our twenties.”

“Does that make you Leia this time?” Rey asked, catching your eyes, a spark of mischief in her gaze. She knew exactly what she was implying.

“I think it does. Which means you get to be me this time. Congratulations, you are now a princess. Use the title well.” You joked, sitting back against the cushioned bench, also, coincidentally, against Poe’s arm, which was still there, perched on the leather. Warmth emanated from him, both literally and figuratively.

Eventually, the drinks came and you took a few sips of yours, loosening up. You all chatted and joked and laughed. Eventually, Rey and Rose got up to dance with the mechs over on the dance floor. Finn followed behind them.

Jessika spotted you and motioned you over, a broad grin on her face. Beside her was Aspen. Snap was there, too. They were hanging out near the holodart board mounted to the wall.

“Wanna play some darts?” Poe smirked, following your eyeline.

“If you’re ready to get your ass kicked, sure.” You teased, getting out of the booth after him and walking over to where his friends were waiting.

“You look great, girl!” Jessika said. “Give us a spin.”

You did a little twirl, showing off the top, the pants, the accessories. Your wings fluttered behind you like a cape, folded down and out of the way, as they always were.

“Dameron said he was gonna try to get you out here tonight.” Snap said, jostling his buddy’s shoulder. “Glad you joined us.”

“Do you guys do this often?”

“Not often enough.” Aspen said with a laugh, perched criss-cross on a barstool. “But our schedules have us all wound up tighter than a drum. I think we all needed to let off some steam.”

“How have things been for you guys? Missions running smoothly?”

“As ever.” Jessika said. “Thanks, of course, to our fearless commander.”

“Stop, stop, you’re too kind.” Poe said, playfully brushing off his shoulder. “It helps that I have the best team in the galaxy at my disposal.”

Snap motioned you closer, handing you a glowing dart. “Alright, enough chitchat. I want the Jedi on my team.”

“That is not fair.” Poe protested immediately. “It’s only fair if she’s on my team.”

“Sorry, Poe, I’ve been spoken for.” You shrugged, throwing the dart and landing in the outer ring of the bullseye.

Snap’s face lit up and he high-fived you.

“That’s gotta be cheating.” Jessika said, looking to Aspen, who was serving, apparently, as the referee. Pilots took their holodarts very seriously, after all. “Ref, tell her she’s cheating.”

“No, if I was cheating, it would look like this.” You took a second dart from Snap, covered your eyes with one hand, and threw the dart, using the Force to pull it through an exaggerated loop-de-loop on its way to the board, where it hit dead on in the center. You lowered your hand and shrugged innocently. “I just genuinely have pretty decent aim, as hard as it is to believe.”

“She’s pretty and she’s got a sense of humor. You’re a goner, Dameron.” Snap said, elbowing him while you were distracted, laughing with Aspen and Jessika.

Poe chuckled, crossing his arms, eyes teeming with tenderness. “Believe me, pal, I know.”

***

The night went on. You had a few more drinks, toeing the line between tipsy and drunk, but not quite getting all the way there. You and Poe continued to dance around each other, but he didn’t make a move. Well, any further than he already had. But after watching him interact with some of his friends, you’d come to realize that he was a touchy guy. It was definitely his love language.

You sang some songs at the karaoke machine in the corner of the room, sharing the stage with Rose, who had a really good voice, as it turned out.

At the end of the evening, when the crowd began to dwindle, Poe walked you back to your quarters. You, somewhat clumsily, punched in your code, the doors sliding open smoothly. You lingered in the doorway, turning to look at him.

“Thanks for taking me out, Dameron.” You said, breaking the warm silence that threatened to swallow your moment. “I had a great time.”

“Thanks for coming. I, uh…” He reached for your hand and you gave it to him, letting him fiddle with your fingers. It was comforting, his touch. You doubted you’d ever tire of the feeling of those calloused palms against yours. “If you were serious about that joyride…I’m taking it up tomorrow. Little test-drive, checking perimeters. Two porgs, one stone, you know. It’ll still be a tight fit, if that’s alright.”

“Well we both know I have no problem with getting close to you, Dameron.” You teased, giving his hand a squeeze. “What time are you picking me up?”

“After breakfast? Or…well, whenever works. I know you’re busy.”

You nodded, eyes glimmering. “After breakfast works.”

You could feel it again, that warmth sweltering in Poe’s chest. That desire laced deep in his eyes. He was thinking about kissing you. The fantasy playing out in your mind, you weren’t sure if it was yours or his, at this point.

Him, grabbing you by the hip, burying a hand in your hair, kissing you fiercely, passionately, lips exploring every inch of your own. Hungrily. Like he’d been waiting for it. You heard the way his breath hitched, felt his large, warm hand wander further up your back, towards the base of your wings as he kissed you. Cards on the table, heart on his sleeve.

But he didn’t. Didn’t move, aside from giving your hand another squeeze.

You smiled at him, still reeling from the images that had just flashed through your mind, but doing your best to hide the way your heart was racing. “It’s a date.”

These Haunted Wounds

You woke with a start not long after you drifted off. An hour or two at most. Nightmares. Figured.

This time, it was about a different saber. A red one, two little offshoots on the side of the hilt. It looked dangerous. Poorly constructed, if you were honest. One wrong move and the wielder would slice their own hand off by mistake.

No, the scary part was the guy wielding it. Long, foreboding figure, black cloak that drifted in the wind. He wore a mask over his face, voice deepened by a modulator of some kind. It brought back memories in all the wrong ways.

Despite the fact that you hadn’t seen him yet, didn’t know what he looked like, you could just tell. This was Kylo Ren. Had to be. That type of energy could only come from someone who was trying his damndest to stand in the shadow of Darth Vader, an entity you were still all too familiar with.

Luke had made his peace with the guy. You had never gotten that opportunity.

Kylo swished his cape and from his shadow came Insidia, still haunting you after all these years. She plunged her saber into your heart, the pain scorching and real, a scream tearing itself from your throat, and that was when you woke in a cold sweat.

You sat there, hands shaking, heart racing, collecting yourself before trying to lay down to sleep again. Just as you were about to lay back down, there was a knock on your door. Eyebrows furrowing, you swung your legs out of the bed, crossing the room and opening the door with a click of a button on the wall panel.

Poe was standing there in his sweatpants, panting, armed with a piece of a pipe. It was clear he’d run there. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Huh?” You asked, rubbing at your bleary eyes. You stopped, staring at his bare, toned chest for maybe too long before meeting his gaze. “I’m fine.”

He lowered the pipe. “Oh. I heard screaming.”

Had you screamed out loud? Maybe you had. Maybe you’d projected it on accident, through the Force.

“It was just a nightmare.” You reassured him. You chuckled when you looked at the pipe hanging from his grip. “Nice.”

“Hey, I could do some real damage with this thing.” He defended, giving it a test swing to demonstrate.

“Oh I bet.” You gave a tired smile, let out a sigh, that spot in your chest burning, where Insidia had stabbed you in this dream.

She’s dead. You reminded yourself. She can’t hurt me anymore because she’s dead.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Same old.” You shrugged. “Stabbed with a lightsaber this time. Right through the chest.”

He frowned, nodding. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I’ll be okay.” You promised him. “But thank you for rushing to my rescue. Very daring of you, Commander.”

“Any time.” 

You could feel that he wanted to stay. But you could tell he wasn’t going to ask. Ever the gentleman in the presence of a princess. It was kind of refreshing. You smiled at him. “Get some sleep, flyboy. See you in the morning.”

“You too. Goodnight.” He smiled. He held up the pipe in his hand. “I better go put this back.”

You laughed, watching as he walked back down the hallway. He glanced back at you, meeting your eyes before returning to the room he shared with Finn.

A soft smile pulled at your lips and you lingered in the hallway for a moment before closing your door and walking back to your bunk. You sat there, wondering what it would have been like if you asked him to stay. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to, but…maybe there was a reason he was waiting.

Maybe he was waiting until after the war to get attached. That would be smart. You knew so many during the Rebellion who did just that. 

Some hashed everything out in the heat of the war, sure. It was hard to get comfortable. It was hard to know which base would be your last, which fight would end it all. Some people chased comfort, wanting to get close to each other while they had the chance.

But others wanted to wait, to make sure they were going to make it to see the peace after the war, and whatever relationship, whatever life awaited them after.

You rolled onto your side, staring at the wall. You wonder if he knew the way he had his hand wrapped around your heart, a little X-Wing orbiting it around and around.

Tomorrow, you promised yourself. Tomorrow you’d say something, up in the X-Wing with him. Arms around you, chest pressed against your back, legs tangled in the cockpit. And one way or the other, you’d finally have your answer.

This time, when you fell asleep, the only thing you dreamt of were his lips.

The Crash

The next morning, Poe met you and the others for breakfast, already dressed in his orange jumpsuit, the collar flipped open. You could not keep the smile off your face at the sight.

“I can’t believe this is really what does it for you.” He laughed, drunk off the look in your eyes.

“It suits you.” You said, eyes lingering on the collar, fighting the urge to reach out and fix it. You rummaged around your mind for some quip to fire back, but came up empty. He’d stolen the words right from your mouth.

The group of you finished eating and Poe cleared your plate, leading you towards the hangar. 

“I don’t have it painted yet, but the mechs checked over it yesterday and gave me the okay.” Poe explained.

“So we’re not going to crash, is what you’re saying.”

“Not with a Jedi on board.” He said, eyes meeting yours. “I still think about that transport you caught. I didn’t know you could just…do that.”

“Took a while to get to that point. Ships are heavy. It helps if I’m not fighting the trajectory. Laesynda’s ship was on its way down, I just…cushioned the fall.” You explained.

“You’re real humble for a Jedi, you know.”

“You think so?”

“More humble than I would be if I could lift spacecrafts with my mind.”

“Oh I’m aware, flyboy. If you were out here with a lightsaber, none of us would ever hear the end of it.” You teased, looking over his flightsuit, still enamored. “You’re already an ace pilot, you can’t possibly have all the skills.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by the harsh blare of a distress signal. The two of you looked at each other before booking it to the strategy table, where Leia was, hand still over the button.

“It’s one of our settlements. First Order troops on the ground, TIE fighters.” She made eye contact with you, Rey running into the room right after. “Kylo is with them.”

She dispatched groups of fighters, sent you and Rey and sent out the Black Squadron. Poe marched through the hangar, yelling orders, getting his team ready for battle. You forced your eyes away from him as he loaded BB-8 into his X-Wing, strapped your saber to your belt, and loaded onto a transport with Rey and Finn.

Soren walked over, saber at the ready. You stopped him with a shake of your head, something akin to a maternal look in your eye. “I need you here. It’s just Kylo. Rey and I can handle him.”

“I’m ready.”

“I know you are.” You said, hands on his shoulders. “That’s why I need you here. Someone’s gotta protect the base.”

He nodded, understanding. He took a few steps back, standing with the others as they saw you all off.

You made eye contact with Poe, one last lingering glance before he climbed into the cockpit and took off into the sky, blasting off at lightspeed with the rest of his squadron to clear way for your transport.

The ramp of the transport closed and Finn looked at you. “He’s like you. Soren.”

“Reckless?” You asked.

He shook his head, eyes serious and warm. “Brave.”

You smiled at the thought and put a hand on Finn’s arm. “So are you.”

The ride was short, but shaky. You didn’t like turbulence, especially in a craft that only had thin, tiny windows. It left you uneasy. But eventually, you touched down, saber in hand, leading the charge with Rey.

There were dozens of Stormtroopers, opening fire on not only the scattered Resistance members, but any civilians they could get their hands on. You put yourself between them, deflecting their shots with a few swings of the saber. The fighters that had come with you ran out of the ship, assessing the situation and adjusting as quickly as possible.

In the air, a battle had broken out as well, X-Wings and TIE fighters firing at each other, as well as the ground below them. You tried to identify which ship was Poe’s. You could feel him up there, but it was hard to get a lock. All you knew was that it was a black ship, an orange stripe painted down the side. Black Squadron.

Another trooper shot at you you and you shifted into battle mode. You used the Force to mow over a row of troopers, pushing them onto their backs in the dirt and leaving them scrambling to get back to their feet. One came at you with a melee weapon, electrified, but you did away with it quickly, using the Force to throw him at a tank, the force of it taking out the canon with a loud explosion.

More troopers focused their aim on you and quickly met the same fate.

Overhead, an X-Wing twirled around, almost drifting through the air and taking out one, two, three TIE fighters in quick succession, firing at a cluster of troopers on the ground immediately after. That had to be Poe.

Another turret fired near the civilians and you ran towards it, using your wings to get some height and jumping up the length of it, burying your saber in the metal paneling on the side and riding it back down to the ground as it was destroyed in a cloud of fire and smoke.

Finn ushered civilians to safety, taking out any troopers that got close with a well-placed blast. Rey worked with you to take out the remaining turrets, keeping the troopers at bay as more of them unloaded from landing transports.

You heard a boom overhead and looked, hoping to see a TIE fighter on its way down, but instead catching sight of an X-Wing, black and orange, one of its engines engulfed in flames.

You reached up and caught it with the Force, directing it away from the thick trees it was aimed towards and turning the nose, bringing it down gently in a clearing of grass and dirt, away from the immediate violence on the sprawling battlefield. You didn’t have time to worry if it might be Poe climbing out of it. Didn’t even have time to think before you saw him.

Kylo Ren.

His saber glowed red, contrasting against the lush green of the planet you were standing on, his kyber crystal obviously damaged, the way its blade was flared. He’d forced it too hard, been too rough with it. Maybe that was why the offshoots were there, to redirect the excess energy.

He was dressed like a shadow, long and sleek, all in black, face covered up by that helmet. It was better that way. You were afraid of finding too much of your friends in his broken gaze. Leia. Han. In another life, you may have been something like an aunt to him. Now he stood in front of you, a monster. 

And he was headed right towards you, strides long and elegant.

“Mothim said you were awake, your Highness. It’s time to see if you really are the thing of legends.” He twirled his saber, voice distorted beyond anything human. An intimidation tactic, no doubt, in addition to the obvious imitation of one Darth Vader.

“Ah yes, my best friend’s biggest disappointment. I keep hearing about you, and I have to admit. You’re a lot taller than I expected.”

He raised his hand attempting to use the Force to…you weren’t sure. Grab you, choke you, but you had your shields up, always did, blocking out his attempt. “You’re good.”

“I have to be.” You replied, readying your saber, stretching out your neck.

He swung at you and you deflected, angling carefully to avoid the reach of the flares near the hilt of his saber. So that’s what they were for. One wrong move and it would be your hand he was slicing off. You countered, using your wings to spin into position, leveraging an attack that he dodged, his saber clashing loudly with your own.

“Tell me, did you really face Vader by yourself, or did you have Skywalker to help you?” He locked his saber with your own, mask uncomfortably close to your face. “Skywalker is dead now. I saw to that myself. I finished the work that Vader could not.”

You let out a cold laugh at that. “You’re not Vader. You’re not even close.”

That definitely pissed him off. He let out a strangled yell, running at you with full force. You dodged with a leap, spinning out of the way. He took the opportunity to take a swing at your wings, which flared in reply, flattening themselves out of his reach. Your foot swept through the dirt as you landed, breaking your somewhat clumsy fall.

That had been a targeted attack. Straight for the wings. Not your arm. Not your saber. Your wings.

Rey came over next, putting herself between the two of you, battling him with a rage you knew had to be personal. You could feel that they were connected. Always had been. There were layers here that you did not quite understand yet. But she still fought him, moves quick and deliberate and instinctual.

You jumped back in alongside her, red clashing against blue and pink, sparks flying. Some of the brush caught fire, but never fully ignited, instead filling the ground between you with smoke, partially obstructing the rest of the fight.

You landed a hit on his leg, slashing into the skin. Rey got him on the opposite arm and he let out a burst of Force energy that sent you both flying. You used your wings to recover, repositioning mid-air, an outstretched hand slowing Rey’s trajectory as well, just before the back of her head hit a tree.

“RETREAT!” Kylo screeched, his voice echoing through the trees, birds scattering at the loud, distorted cry.

You’d hurt him. Bad. You could see the blood pooling in the dirt as he stalked away.

The Stormtroopers and other forces retreated into the transports that hadn’t already been blown up. The remaining TIE fighters, few though there were, hopped to lightspeed. One of the X-Wings shot a few transports on their way into the atmosphere, but other than that, the fight was over.

You found Finn among the crowd, making sure he was uninjured. He was fine. There had been some injuries, but no casualties, even among the civilians, who were cheering and embracing, celebrating their safety for the moment.

You looked over at the crashed X-Wing, smoking at the edge of the field and ran over to it, wings carrying you farther and faster than you’d flown in years, just a handful of feet above the grass. You landed on one of the wings and used the Force to pop open the cockpit, the windshield cracked, the pilot still inside.

She tugged off her helmet, long brown hair cascading down her shoulders. Jessika. Not Poe.

You offered her a hand, helping her out. She looked up at you, awe in her eyes, her hand wrapping around yours. You used your wings to lower the both of you gently to the ground.

“Are you alright?”

“I swore I was going to crash. You…you saved my life.” She rushed into your arms and you held her, rocking her comfortingly. “How do I even begin to repay you for that?”

“You don’t. We’re all in this together.” You assured her, wiping some of the soot from her face with a gentle hand. “Now let’s get you back to base. I’m sure there’s lots of room for you on the transport.”

One of the Resistance members from the planet rushed over, putting out her smoking X-Wing engine with a fire extinguisher. “We’ll take care of this. Get it repaired as soon as possible.”

Jessika exchanged some words with the mech, arranging something of a plan to come get it before following you and the others back onto the transport.

“Are you alright?” You asked Rey, checking all your bases, counting faces and heads.

“I’m fine. Are you?”

“I’m good. He…I don’t know what he knows about Mariposans, but he was locked in on my wings.” You said, shivering at the thought. “Someone must have told him to aim there.”

“You think the First Order has a Mariposan?”

“Maybe.” You said. “He…he mentioned someone named Mothim. That’s…vaguely Mariposan-sounding.”

You watched the sky, the X-Wings rounding up. Jessika had her helmet tucked under her arm, which started talking, Poe’s voice coming through the headset. You could have cried with relief that he was alright.

“Pava, come in. Are you alive out there? We don’t have eyes on your X-Wing.”

“I’m alive, Black Leader. Boarding one of the transports on the ground. They hit me in the right wing, but one of the Jedi caught me on the way down.”

He chuckled and you could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “That is great news. We’ll see you back at base.”

You watched as the X-Wings took off, hitting lightspeed in rapid succession. Your own transport followed suit not long after, once everyone was accounted for and all the systems had been checked for damage. You breathed, focusing on the quiet until finally, the ship landed and the ramp lowered.

You walked out, surveying the crowd of celebrating rebels when you spotted BB-8 whirring at you at full speed, beeping a mile a minute. He looked you up and down and then sped away, straight to Poe, who looked down at him. His little head swivelled to you and back.

“(Y/N)!”

Poe sprinted over, pulling you into his arms the second he was close enough. He let out a long breath, his gloved hand cradling the back of your head as he held you. You wrapped your arms around him, resting your head against his shoulder, wings twitching before relaxing completely.

“You…you’re alright? I saw him go after you. I wanted to shoot, but I couldn’t get a clean shot.” He said, regret in his voice, guilt on his brow.

“I’m okay, Poe. Really.” You told him, pulling away for a moment to get a glimpse at his face, check him over for injuries. There was sweat dotted on his forehead, wetting the curls at the edge of his hairline. “I thought it was your ship coming down. I was so scared.”

He shook his head, taking a moment to peel off his gloves so he could touch your cheek with his hand, skin impossibly warm. He rested his forehead against yours, the movement familiar and comfortable. “You saved one of my pilots. I…just when I think you can’t possibly impress me more…”

You wanted to kiss him so badly. So, so badly. Just surge forward and collect his lips as he uttered his sweet, flattering words. You could tell he wanted it, too. That victory kiss.

“Poe…” You murmured, mouth impossibly close.

“I’m right here, baby.” He whispered in response, voice gentle, eyes soft. Sparkling with anticipation. “We’re okay.”

Your breath hitched at the petname, heart racing faster than his X-Wing. You repeated his words. “We’re okay.”

He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. He took a long breath and then hooked an arm around your waist again, pulling you close as he pressed a long kiss to your cheek. He buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling what was left of your perfume, diluted, you were sure, by the smoke from the battle.

Mood lightening considerably once he’d processed that you were actually okay, that you’d won, that you and Rey had fought off Kylo Ren, he chuckled to himself, remembering your original  plans for the day.

“Sorry about our date, but…she’s probably gonna need some repairs before I take her up again.” He looked back at his X-Wing, untangling himself from you, but keeping an arm anchored around your waist, just beneath the base of your wings. It tickled, where his orange sleeve touched the soft tissue, but you didn’t dare move him.

BB-8 beeped up at him, agitated.

“I was careful, Bee, why do you think we’re standing here?”

He beeped something complimentary of your performance out in the battle.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” He grinned, proud. “Really, you were awesome out there.”

“So were you, flyboy. I lost count of how many TIE fighters you took down. Are you sure you’re not Force sensitive?”

He smiled that prettyboy smile, reaching over to wipe some soot from your face, thumb moving deliberately, focused on one spot. “Pretty sure. I’ve just had a lot of practice.”

You saw Soren, ready to approach you, but giving you a minute with your pilot. You nodded at him, a promise that you’d be over there soon.

“I better check on my team. Make sure everyone’s in one piece.” Poe said, looking back towards the hangar where the pilots and mechs were conversing, figure out what all needed to be fixed after the skirmish. “Will, uh…would you grab dinner with me later? You know, since our date got rained out and all…”

You nodded, smiled at him. You put a hand on his cheek and guided him closer, pressing a kiss just beneath his scar. “Dinner sounds great. But when that ship is fixed, I better be first in line for that joyride you promised me.”

He laughed, nodding. “Absolutely, your Highness.”

You went your separate ways, his hand lingering on yours until the last possible second until you were finally pulled apart. And yet, as you met with the other members of the Resistance, talking over the battle, taking stock of everything, he was the only thing you could think of, the feeling of his lips still lingering against your cheek.

Vintage Diplomacy

After the battle, you spent the coming days doing strength training for your wings. Your flight across the ground had opened your eyes. If you could cover ground like that regularly, it could be lifesaving.

You’d spend mornings up in the clearing on the hill. Artoo found you up there once and asked what you were doing as you hovered, wings fluttering impossibly fast. You started with five second bursts, then ten, then twenty.

Artoo timed you, let you know when to stop. And that was how Poe found you one morning before a strategy meeting with the General, as well as her Admirals and Commanders. You’d been hovering for nearly a full minute, kicking up a small breeze in your wake.

You touched down when you saw him approaching, wings folding down with record speed as Artoo gave you the breakdown. Your longest yet. With more training, who knew? Maybe you could be the first Mariposan to rediscover the power of true flight. You could certainly hope.

You stretched out your back, hands on your hips stretching both ways. You hoped the soreness meant you were building muscle, if that was how that worked.

“Hey, Princess. Thought I might find you up here. You eat breakfast yet?”

“Yeah, I had something before I came out here.” You replied.

“Good. Meeting starts soon.”

“Thought so.” You glanced at your watch. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way.” He motioned. He was wearing a leather jacket you hadn’t seen on him yet. It was brown, a rebel patch on the shoulder. Definitely vintage.

“Cool jacket.”

“You like it?” He asked with a smirk.

“Yeah. Is it vintage?”

“It is, actually. Good eye.” He rested his hands on his belt buckle. “Not as vintage as you, of course, your Highness.”

“Hey!” You elbowed him and he elbowed you back, both of you laughing as you strode into the meeting together.

A few eyes caught you, knowing looks exchanged between the other assembled people. You said some hellos, exchanged the necessary pleasantries. You greeted your sister, who smiled warmly when she saw you and Poe walk in together.

You were sure after your little, uh, victory celebration out in the middle of the base, that everyone there must have thought you were dating behind closed doors.

You wished they were right.

Poe sat with the pilots, but you could feel his eyes on you as you mingled with the folks filing into the seats around you. Rey, as always, took the seat next to yours. On your other side, Soren. There was always a certain energy to the room when the Jedi were all together. People paid attention.

Before long, General Organa started the meeting. The main topic of interest: Resistance allies, or the lack thereof.

Since the battle at Crait, Leia had been trying to get in contact with anyone she could think of, friends new and old, anyone the Resistance had helped, but responses were few and far between. The First Order had done their best to silence or…eliminate anyone who wasn’t loyal to them.

“What we’re running low on is hope.” Leia said. “The people don’t think we stand a chance against the First Order. They’d rather hide in fear than stand up and fight. And if we don’t find some allies soon…it’s a matter of time before they take us out. We’re already running on scraps here.”

Chewbacca roared out his support.

“More outreach.” Another Admiral suggested. “The people saw what we did for them in the Endor system, that we stand up for them when it matters. Hell, we got twenty new recruits from that battle alone. When people see the difference we make, they want to fight with us.”

“I think our next move needs to be diplomacy, General. It’s been a while since we’ve had representatives at any events raising awareness.” Your sister reasoned. “How are they supposed to know we’re still here if they never see us?”

“But who would go?” Leia asked, scanning the room. “Diplomatic training hasn’t been very high on our regimen, I’m afraid.”

“I can go.” You volunteered. The eyes in the room fell on you quickly, like they’d been expecting you to say it. “The First Order already knows I’m alive, our allies should, too. They think we have one Jedi, we have three. I think that would spark quite a bit of hope, General. Besides, I have the diplomatic training and I never get to use it.”

She smiled, eyes sparkling. “I was hoping you’d say that. I did catch wind of a gala. It’s…mostly safe. Former Rebel sympathizers, a formal event. It would be as good a place as ever to make a debut. You’ll need a pilot of course, to–”

“I’ll go, General.” Poe volunteered before anyone else even had the chance. “I’ll escort the princess. It would be my honor.”

Leia gave a small, professional smile that you could tell she was all she could do to keep from laughing at the sheer speed with which he offered himself up for the mission. She thought about making him fight for it, and she knew he would. Poe Dameron was nothing if not stubborn, ambitious. It was why she respected him so much.

And at the same time, she knew exactly what would happen if she sent the two of you there, together. Alone.

Maybe it was about time.

“Great. Get packed. It’s tonight, three systems out. Take the Falcon.”

***

After the meeting, you went straight to your quarters, shuffling through your closet for anything…formal. You had a lot of Jedi robes, that was for sure, which might have suited an event like this in the olden days, before even your time, but now…all it would ensure was that you would stick out more than you already did.

“Thought I’d find you here.” Laesynda said, standing in the doorway. “I might have something that’ll work.”

You followed her to her quarters. She opened her wardrobe and pushed aside some clothes, reaching for something specific. She pulled it out with a flourish. A long, midnight blue gown. Off the shoulder. It glittered like stars and truly did look fit for a princess to wear. With it, she had a silver circlet, some silver Mariposan cuff bracelets.

“Mom’s…” You remembered, a hand drifting down the sparkling fabric.

Laesynda nodded. “I’ve been saving it for a special occasion. Maybe I knew you’d need it someday.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Now, let’s get you dressed. Sounds like you have a flight to catch.”

Laesynda helped you into the gown, adjusting the flowing fabric so it sat just so, helping to slip your wings through the slot sewn in specifically for them. It was nice, wearing Mariposan garb again, something you didn’t have to adjust in order to wear comfortably.

She put your hair in a simple style, braiding the front pieces back, setting the circlet on your head. You put on the cuffs, put on a silver belt and strapped your saber to it, the final piece of the puzzle. The metal tones clashed, but maybe that was okay. It would stand out, at the very least.

“How do I look?”

“Like a princess.” She replied, a hand reaching out to touch your face. “And like Mom.”

You couldn’t help but tear up a little bit when she said it. She carefully tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, giving a final nod. You were ready.

You stopped back into your room, packed a bag with some essentials. Among your things, you found your wooden box of Rebel memorabilia. Pins, cuff links, a pair of dangling silver earrings. You tucked it into the bag as well, along with another change of clothes for after the party. As gorgeous as the gown was, you doubted you’d want to be in it all night. You knew how these kinds of parties went. They were long and socially exhausting. You’d be longing for those Resistance standard sweatpants at the end of it.

There was a knock on the doorframe, your door still open. You expected it to be Laesyndra, having forgotten something. Instead, it was Poe, holding a garment bag that you assumed contained his formal wear.

“Tried to get the General let me take my flight suit out for ya, but she wasn’t having it. You ready for–” He stared, voice dropping off once he spotted you, dressed in a dazzling, midnight gown. “Oh. Wow…”

“Ready for…?” You raised an eyebrow, walking closer with slow strides.

“For takeoff?” He asked, Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes half-lidded. “Chewie warmed up the Falcon for us.”

You smiled warmly, nodding. “All packed, Commander. Ready when you are.”

“Perfect. Right. Well, let’s…” He offered his arm and you took it, slipping your arm through his, your bag slung over the other shoulder.

You gave his bicep a playful squeeze, laughter bubbling out of your painted lips. “Loth-cat got your tongue, Dameron? It’s just me.”

He let out a chuckle, meeting your eyes. “That’s the problem, your Highness.”

This Changes Everything

Your friends saw you off, complimenting you endlessly. Rey and Rose demanded you twirl around, showing off the look, which you gladly did.

“You look dazzling, Princess.” Threepio complimented, giving a little bow, arms poised at their odd angles.

“Thank you, Threepio. It was my mother’s.” You said, a sad, proud glimmer in your eye. Poe caught it immediately.

Artoo came with, but otherwise, it was just you and Poe in that big ship. He put in the coordinates, lifted off the planet, and put it into hyperdrive, with you in the passenger seat. Once it was on autopilot, you were free to move around the cabin.

Poe took his garment bag from one of the other seats and moved towards one of the Falcon’s tiny bed cabins to change. In the meantime, you found a mirror and put in a pair of earrings from your box of Rebel trinkets. They were the Rebellion’s symbol, silver and dangling from tiny chains. They completed the look.

Poe emerged a few minutes later, wearing a dark blue formal tunic, dramatic diagonal trim highlighting his shoulders. It was paired with matching navy pants, some black loafers with silver buckles.

“There was a hat, too, but I thought it would be too much.” He said, standing stiff while you looked him over, eyes roving his figure.

“Covering hair like that would be a crime, I think.” You told him, earning a chuckle and that dashing smile.

Your eyes lingered on the ends of his sleeves and you dug around in your box until you found a pair of cufflinks. You walked over to him, grabbing his hand and inserting one of the cufflinks into the end of his sleeve.

“Where’d you get this stuff?” He asked, watching your careful movements as you switched sleeves, putting the other one in as well.

“I’ve had it. Held onto it after the war. Figured we’d wear them to…charity events or something.” You shrugged. You rummaged around the box for a lapel pin, focused as you pinned it to one side of his tunic, straightening it with a quick movement. “Never thought we’d need them for war fundraising, but here we are…”

“My parents were Rebels, you know.” He confessed, voice soft, eyes softer. He’d been holding onto it, unsure why he’d never found the opportunity to tell you until now. Maybe he was afraid the information would shift your already teetering dynamic.

“Hence the jacket.” You noted, meeting his gaze, fingers still lingering on the pin. The wheels turned in your head and your jaw dropped, finally seeing it in his face. Those brows. That nose. Those eyes. “You’re…you’re Kes Dameron’s kid.”

He chuckled and nodded, eyes sparkling. “Yeah. I am. You knew him?”

“I did know him.” You laughed to yourself shaking your head. “Maker, I can’t believe I didn’t put those pieces together. He worked with Han and the pathfinders. I worked with Leia. It was kind of inevitable that our paths crossed. He was a great guy.”

“Is a great guy.” He said. “He still lives on Yavin. That’s where I grew up.”

You hummed, nodding. “That’s really good news, Poe. I’d…I’d love to see him sometime.”

“I’m sure he’d love to see you when all of this is over.” He said, eyes softening when he spoke of home, of family. “Mom was a pilot. Maybe you knew her. Her name was Shara.”

You gasped softly. “You’re…you’re Shara’s son? Shara Bey?”

Poe nodded, smiling. “I am.”

“Poe…I…” You teared up, studying him, dividing his features in your head, which had come from Shara, from Kes. You touched his face, laughed sadly, happy memories bubbling to the surface. “Shara was…so special. She was my bunkmate on Hoth. She and I kept watch together twice a week. We ate lunch together almost every day. We shared wine bottles at parties. I…I always thought there was something going on between her and Kes, but they kept it very professional. Didn’t know they were engaged until after the war.”

Poe got a little misty, nostalgia swirled in his warm brown eyes.

“We don’t have to talk about it, I’m sorry…”

He shook his head, taking your hand and kissing the back of it. “You were there. I always forget you were there. I can’t believe you knew them…”

“Maker, I could tell you so many stories…”

“I want you to. I want to hear all about them when we get home.”

“Okay.” You nodded, shedding a single tear that he was quick to wipe away, pulling you into a hug instead.

He pressed a long kiss to the crown of your head, arms tight around your shoulders, yours wrapped around his middle. You listened to his heart, hammering away beneath his tunic. You felt his lips on your forehead again, lingering for longer this time before he rested his head against yours, swaying slightly with you in his hold.

Eventually, Artoo rolled into the room, beeping to let you know you were getting close.

“Thank you, Artoo.”

He complimented Poe’s pin with a series of beeps and Poe grinned and thanked him.

“Here, I’ve probably got a magnet in here you can wear.” You said, rummaging through your box until you found one. You knelt down and he rolled forward, letting you stick it to one of his panels.

He beeped and whirred in approval, asking how he looked.

“You look very sharp.” You assured him. “You fit right in, now.”

Poe wandered into the cockpit, standing between the back row of seats, watching as the stars flew by at lightspeed. You stepped in after him and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders without a second thought.

He was your pilot, you were his princess. That was all that mattered. You rested your head against him, watching the stars.

***

The gala was being held at a nice hotel, chandeliers glimmering above, painted portraits hanging on the wall and abstract sculptures sitting on pedestals. It reminded you of home, in a way, if Mariposas had been colorless and stiff. There was soft music playing, a band tucked into the corner of the room. Poe took your arm, escorting you through the room of senators and leaders, former Rebellion members.

It was clear that this gala was pretending to be something it was not. On the outside, it had been bolstered as an academy class reunion, probably to drive off any First Order loyalists, keep them off the trail, inside was a completely different story.

You knew these people. A lot of them, wrinkled and graying though they were. Pathfinders, pilots, ground fighters, comm techs…these had been your brothers and sisters on base, and a decent amount of them, seemingly, had bloomed into important people in their own right.

What was holding them back from helping, you wondered, scanning the room. Maybe it was just the fear of the First Order, of making themselves vulnerable just to be eliminated without a second thought. But as the eyes in the room found you, the whispers picked up, speculating how it was you were there, standing there, living and breathing after all this time.

“How’s that for a first impression…” Poe murmured, just loud enough for you to hear, watching the way these legends reacted to seeing you.

“Time to finally use these stares and whispers to our advantage.” You said, leading him over to a corner where some former fighters were standing. You picked one from the crowd, calling his name to your mind. After all, it had only been two years since you’d seen him.

“Y-your Highness?” He asked, looking you up and down. He glanced at the others, as if to make sure you weren’t some Force Ghost standing there in front of him, that they were seeing it too. “I thought you were…”

“Dead? Lots of folks seem to think so.” You replied, offering your hand, which he shook vigorously. “It’s good to see you, Lieutenant. How’s Marsha?”

That was how it started. You navigated through the room, a walking myth.

Once you made your rounds, Poe at your side, chatting with the people gathered there, you felt a tap on your arm and turned to find him. Lando Calrissian in the flesh.

“I was wondering if I might steal a dance, Princess. If you’re not too busy with the Commander here.” Lando motioned to Poe, whose mouth fell open at his sudden appearance.

“Lando!” You all but jumped into his arms, captured quickly in a tight hug. He swayed back and forth, laughing.

“Maker, Leia was right. You really haven’t aged a day.” He said, taking a moment to look at you. He spun you around. “Can’t say the same for the rest of us.”

“You look great Lando. I was wondering when I’d finally get to see you. How have you been?”

“Oh, same old. Leia tipped me off about this…reunion. Thought I could help finally win these stuffy old guys over.”

“No such luck, I’m guessing.” Poe said, scanning the room.

“Not yet.” Lando winked at you. “That’s why she sent her secret weapon.”

“Not so secret anymore.” You said, trying to ignore all the eyes in your peripheral vision.

Lando introduced and reintroduced you to a handful of old colleagues. One of them, a senator now, stiffened at the sight of you, looking you up and down.

“Leia…dressed you up just like her. It would be convincing, if not for the fake wings.” He said with a sneer. “Almost had me there for a second.”

You chuckled softly, malice creeping into your eyes. “Fake wings?” You repeated, raising them slightly.

“I’ve seen them in action, Senator. I assure you, these things are the real deal.” Poe said, expression guarded, tone painfully casual.

Artoo beeped something at him, agitated, but the senator batted a hand. “I don’t speak droid.”

“I can’t translate what he said anyway, it’s hardly appropriate for an event like this.” You said with a laugh. “Do you need another drink?”

“That’s not–” He started to argue, but you held out a hand, using the Force to pull a champagne flute from across the room. It glided smoothly through the air and hovered in front of him. He stared at it, dropping the empty glass in his own hand. He looked up at you in horror as Poe laughed. “You’re her.”

“Obviously.” You replied, plucking the drink from the air and handing it to him. “I know it’s hard to believe. It’s a long story, but I was saved by one very daring pilot, a Jedi, and a fighter after a long time asleep. Imagine my surprise at waking up to another war.”

He shook his head, brows furrowed. “What war?”

“The First Order. The Resistance. Are you unaware of the conflicts, or just too callous to care this time, elevated position and all?” You asked.

“The need for fighting is over.” He said, shaking his head. “I had my war, I’m sure we can all just live in peace.”

“Senator, I don’t know if you’ve been out there, but it’s bad.” Poe said, eyes serious. “What they did to the New Republic…”

“Was a horrible incident, I’m sure, but that doesn’t mean we can all just…hop in an X-Wing and blow things up.”

You laughed at that. “You didn’t even do that the first time. You failed your flight test, if I remember correctly, Senator. Was it two times, or three?”

He scoffed, clearly offended. “Well, I–”

Poe’s eyes lit up, watching as you warmed up to take your shot.

“Don’t you remember what things were like? Under the Empire? Maybe it’s been too long for you. I know thirty years is a long time to hold onto memories, but…it’s only been two years for me. Two years since the Battle of Endor. Two years of quiet after. I remember how bad it was and this is worse. The weapons they have, the forces, the numbers. They have a Sith trying to outshine Darth Vader and Maker knows what else hidden on those Star Destroyers. They are taking children and ruining lives. One of our best friends is a former trooper. I wish he was here to tell you himself the horrors he’s seen aboard those vessels. They can destroy planets with a few button presses. Maybe you feel safe right now. Maybe you’re playing into their pocket, who knows, but someday, they’ll turn on you, too, and there will be no one left to protect you because you didn’t help the Resistance fight back.”

The room fell silent, every ear tuning into your fiery words. Lando let out a proud little laugh.

Someone across the room stepped forward, meeting your eyes. Wedge. Wedge Antilles. One of the best Rebel pilots there was. He’d been great friends with Luke, so you’d known him pretty well. It was good to see he was still around.

“Well, your Highness, where do we sign up?”

***

After a few more hours of networking, of Poe handing out tokens for further communication, taking pledges and handing out contact information for any people they knew who’d like to enlist in the Rebellion, the three of you–you, Poe and Artoo, that is–said your goodbyes and headed back to the ship.

As soon as the ramp was closed, Poe’s face broke into a victorious smile and he took you in his arms, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. Laughter bubbled from your lips.

“That was insane!” A triumphant laugh escaped him. “You flipped that whole room in less than a minute! I…I…” He set you down, unable to wipe the smile from his face. “I can’t believe that just happened. This changes…everything. We’re gonna have so many new recruits. We’re gonna be able to get so many supplies…”

“New pilots?” You asked.

“New X-Wings. New ships. New blasters. Kriff, new uniforms, even.” He smiled, grabbing onto your arms, just above the flowing, off-the-shoulder sleeves. “Wow, I dunno, I had my doubts when Leia sent me four systems out for a shiny rock, but…I don’t know what we’d do without you here.” He met your eyes, took a step closer, dipped his head down. “I don’t know what I’d do without you here…”

You couldn’t do it anymore. You couldn’t dance around him and pretend your heart wasn’t on fire just looking at him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him closer, lips capturing his easily, as you had in your fantasies so many times. He gasped into your mouth, arms winding around your waist and pulling you against him, lips passionate and experienced. Poe held you there with one arm, the other traveling up into your hair.

Your nose brushed against his as he twisted, getting an even better angle, teeth nipping at your lip. You reached up and cupped his cheek, thumb brushing through the stubble accumulated there.

He pulled back, forehead against yours, breaths ragged as his eyes searched your face, looking for some evidence that that had happened, that it was real this time.

“Say something,” you whispered, hand still anchored against his cheek, eyes sparkling with insecurity. “Please.”

“Give me a second. I’ve never kissed a princess before.” He murmured, kissing your forehead, then your cheeks, pressing another long one to your lips. Soft, but filled with so much passion. He let out a breathy chuckle, meeting your eyes. “Maker, you have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed of doing that.”

You bit your lip, a guilty little smile twisting your mouth. “Actually, about that…”

Poe’s eyes widened, jaw dropping before the shock melted into an embarrassed grin. “You…you could feel it, huh? The whole time?”

“More or less.” You confessed. You pulled him back into you and he didn’t resist, nose brushing yours as you whispered, “I couldn’t tell if they were your fantasies or mine, to be honest.”

He stepped forward, cupping your cheek as he captured your lips again, hungrier this time, lit up by your words, by your confession, that you had felt this way about him for just as long as he’d been drawn to you.

Another step forward and your exposed back touched the cold metal of a wall panel, one of Poe’s hands taking yours, fingers interlacing as he held it up against the wall. His other hand tugged your waist closer, closer, closer, like he was trying to fuse the two of you into one person.

You crooned, hooking your arm around his neck, keeping him there.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped, lips trailing down your neck before crushing against yours again. “Use one of your Jedi Mind Tricks or something.”

“I can’t.” You laughed against him. “They wouldn’t work on you anyway and…I don’t want you to stop.”

“Well good, because I don’t think I can…” He said with a chuckle, nose smushed against yours. He kissed you again, movements tender and slow, smiling against you when he heard your breath hitch. “I thought Jedi weren’t allowed to fall in love. I would have done this so much sooner…”

You laughed. “That’s what was stopping you? I thought you weren’t afraid of bending the rules, Commander.”

Poe let out a breath, smirking. “Well yeah, but…you’re a princess. I thought you might not be so keen on rulebreaking.”

“Well the good news is, there aren’t any rules against Jedi falling in love anymore.” You murmured, resting your forehead against his, hands tugging on the trim of his tunic. “But if there were…I would break them for you, Poe Dameron.”

He grinned that flyboy grin, going in for one last kiss, then another, then one final, lingering kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs, the butterflies in your stomach flying loop-de-loops that rivaled any maneuver he could pull off with his X-Wing.

Soon, you knew you’d have to fly back to base, update Leia on the progress you’d made, return to your schedules and duties.

But now, you shared your breaths with him, heart racing as he cupped your cheeks, whispering sweet words against your lips, promises to steal away more time together as soon as the Maker would allow.

A Little Rebel Spirit

Poe slept in your bed that night.

Your mattress was hardly big enough for one of you let alone both of you, but he didn’t mind, changing out of his formal tunic, carefully returning your Rebellion trinkets to their special little box, and laying in your bed, watching you, hands folded on his toned tan chest, the chain around his neck glimmering against his skin.

You’d changed into some sleep shorts and a tanktop you’d modified for your wings. When you turned to face him again in the dim bedroom, he gasped, eyes falling on your thigh. More specifically, the large tattoo piece stretched across your skin.

“You have a tattoo?” He asked, almost scandalized. “Princess, I knew you were a Rebel, but I didn’t know you were so rebellious.”

“You wanna know what’s rebellious…Leia did this.” You said, fingers skimming over the artwork.

His jaw dropped. “No fucking way.”

“Yes way.” You nodded, walking over to the bed and sat beside him, propping your leg atop his so he could see better.

He ran a large hand over the tattoo, the sheer warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine. “When?”

“Three years ago.” You answered, before correcting “Thirty-three years ago. We were on some planet, there was a market and she got a tattoo gun for like…twelve credits, which should have been the first red flag.”

“And you let her do that?” He asked, laughing.

“Well yeah. She’s my best friend. I knew it would drive my parents nuts, their second in line for the throne defiling her skin, but…I didn’t really expect to survive the war, to be honest. Besides, I was the spare, what were they gonna do about it? I knew I was never going to be queen.” You said with a shrug. “It’s not half bad anyways. She’s a talented artist.”

“This is…that tree, isn’t it. The one on Mariposas.” He said, studying the lines, the shading. It was a large, sprawling tree, branches thick, covered in flowers. Roots twisted down your thigh, headed towards your knee, and in the roots, were a few stray butterflies. Above it, three moons, their shaded crescents in various stages of their cycles.

You nodded. “The Monarch Tree. From which, all life on Mariposas bloomed, or so the legends go.” You guided his hand further down the art, to where the roots curled into a subtle version of the symbol of the Rebellion. “This was by special request.”

His features glowed with recognition and he met your eyes, reaching up to smooth the hair out of your face. “Wow, that’s…that’s really hot, I’ll be honest.”

You giggled, shifting your body towards him. “Yeah? A little Rebel spirit is what does it for you?”

“You’re one to talk. You’re into that silly orange jumpsuit of mine.” He teased, hand hooking your knee and tugging your leg to the other side of his hips, so you were straddling him, hovering inches from his face.

Your wings twitched behind you as you cupped his face with both hands, nose pressed to his. Tenderly, slowly, you inched in, grinning when he got impatient and chased your lips, hands wandering up to your waist to tug you closer.

“You know, honestly Poe, it’s not so much the jumpsuit as it is the thought of…taking it off of you. How easy it would be to just…reach out and unzip it a little.” Mischief glimmered in your eyes. “With the Force.”

He let out a broken groan at that, throwing his head back towards the wall. “You can’t just say that when I’m not wearing it.”

You smiled, coy. “Next time, perhaps.”

“Oh, there’s no question about that, sweetheart.” He had fire in his eyes when he pulled you towards him, crushing his lips to yours, tongue teasing at the seam between your mouths. You let him in, the taste of him rolling across your tongue, minty fresh from his toothpaste.

You threaded your fingers through his curls, letting out a whine when his lips left yours and started trailing down your neck, stubble rough against the sensitive skin. His hand ghosted up your back, finding the base of your wings, calloused fingertips brushing against the spot between them.

Tingles shot through your limbs like firecrackers and you crumbled against him.

He froze, the panic setting in. “Woahhh, sorry, sorry, is that not an okay spot?”

You took a deep breath, reaching up to cup his cheek, turning his face towards you as best you could from your spot tucked into his shoulder. You laughed sheepishly, cheeks flushed. “S’fine, Poe. I’m okay.”

“No, if it’s not fine, you need to tell me. Baby, I’ve never…touched a Mariposan before, I don’t know what I’m doing.” He confessed.

“It’s…that spot is the most sensitive spot on my whole body.” You said through laughs, pulling his face down to meet yours. “So we just went zero to a thousand all at once.”

“Oh.” He laughed. “So it’s a no-go zone.”

“It’s a ‘we have to work up to that’ zone.” You amended, pressing a kiss to his lips, adjusting yourself so you were a little more upright. “You can touch it, but…it has to be featherlight. Unless we’ve gotten there.”

“Okay.” He nodded, nose brushing against yours. “So, do they…have feeling in them?” He asked, hand hovering just above the crest of one of your wings, still a little afraid to outright touch them, despite the fact that he already had, that night in the kitchens.

“Mmhmm.” You spread one out for him, an invitation. “You can touch them. Just be gentle. Like before.”

Poe reached out, running the palm of his hand down the length of one wing, tingles running down your back as he did.

You let out a contented sigh, lulling against his chest as your muscles relaxed.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yeah.” You kissed his cheek, then the corner of his lips, hand resting against his chest. “It’s like…having your hair played with.”

He smiled at that, continuing the gentle movements while you were curled up in his arms. He kissed you again, lips impossibly soft, like silk, the fine royal satins your sheets on Mariposas had been made of.

“You’re the only one allowed to touch them, though.” You told him.

“Just me?” He asked, absolutely enamored.

“Just you.” You punctuated it with a kiss that he readily reciprocated. “It’s…seen as a romantic thing, on Mariposas. Wing-touching is…very personal.”

“So when you let me touch them that night…”

“I was making a move, more or less. I knew you wouldn’t take it that way, though. It doesn’t mean much to outsiders.”

“It meant everything to me, Princess.” He whispered, kissing your forehead. He basked in the proximity, of the feeling of you in his arms, the way you slotted perfectly against him, like you were made for him. “Should have done my research. Would have saved us both some time.”

You laughed. “I doubt Laesynda would have told you that.”

“True.” He went quiet for a while, thinking over something before asking, “Do you…miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“Just…the way things were, before you went to sleep.” He asked. 

You could tell it had been weighing on him. If you missed people from before. If you missed the relationships you’d had. If you missed Luke.

“Sometimes. I miss Mariposas a lot. I miss my family. I didn’t even get the privilege of losing them, really, I just woke up and…they were gone. Had been gone for decades. I miss Han. I miss Luke…but…He left me there. He just…left me there to sleep for thirty years, so…” You let out a breath. “I try not to miss him more than he missed me.”

He nodded, listening quietly, hand still gently passing over your wing, the sensation soothing in indescribable ways. It had been so long since someone had touched you like that. If he kept at it, he would lull you right to sleep.

“But I like this life, too. I like training with Rey and Soren. I like making a difference again, fighting for something important. And someday, when the war is over, I’ll get to figure out what that peace looks like for me again.” You reached up, thumb gently grazing the skin beneath that tiny scar on his cheekbone. You pulled him to you, locking in a slow, sensual kiss. “I like you most of all, Poe Dameron.”

He smirked. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not.” You shook your head, eyes earnest. “You saved my life. You found that pendant. You woke me up. And every day since then, you’ve been finding little pieces of my heart I thought I’d lost decades ago.”

His lips captured yours again, breathing into it. They wandered, down your cheek, past your jaw, down to your neck again. You laced your fingers through his curls, relishing in the burn of his stubble against your skin.

“Maker, I’m so glad we found you…”

He whispered against the sensitive spot he’d found on your neck, the words echoing off the caverns of your mind. That voice. Those words.

It was him. Obviously it was, but the realization still struck you to your core. You’d dreamed of this, dreamed of him for years, and now he was finally yours.

Your pilot. Your Poe.

Can’t Change the Past, Starlight

You and Poe walked down to breakfast separately the next morning. He slipped out of your room carefully, watching for any techs that might be walking by, and hurrying from your room to his to change into some real clothes, as all he had in your room was the formal tunic Leia had loaned him. 

You timed your exit about fifteen minutes after, and ran into Rey and Finn in the hallway.

“How did it go?” Finn asked. “I was kind of worried. I never heard Poe come into the room last night.”

“Oh it was great. I’m sure we’ll hash it all out in the meeting later. Lots of new pledges, hopefully lots of new recruits, too. Ran into Lando Calrissian. He’s…an old friend.”

Rey’s jaw dropped. “The Lando Calrissian. Is he joining the Resistance?”

“He’s thinking about it.” You said with a smirk. “He’s always been hard to pin down, but I have a good feeling he’ll come around. Maker knows we could use his help.”

The canteen was bustling with folks, starting their day. Poe was sitting at the usual table with Rose. You grabbed some breakfast and slid into the seat across from him. A calculated move. He slid you a cup of caf, just the way you liked it.

“There you are. I was worried you’d gotten lost on the way to our room.” Finn said, searching Poe’s face. “Where’d you end up last night?”

“I…slept on the couch down in the lounge. Didn’t wanna wake you, we got back really late.” Poe lied.

Alright, you were officially doing this. You were officially hiding your relationship. It was kind of thrilling, you had to admit.

“Mmm.” Finn nodded, not buying it in the slightest. “Well, how’d it go?”

“Fantastic. (Y/N) has a real way with words.” Poe said, eyes sparkling. “Flipped the whole room, had everyone all fired up. We got so many new pledges and allies. It’s gonna take the droids forever to get all the files sorted.”

“Like I said, diplomatic training I never use.” You said with a shrug, taking a sip of caf.

“How’d you sleep?” Poe asked, meeting your eyes.

“Slept alright. Like you said, we got back late, so I didn’t get much of it.”

“Mmm. Sorry to hear that.” He said through a grin that he hid behind his mug. “I slept great.”

You kicked his leg under the table.

After breakfast, the group of you filed into the meeting, where you were somewhat surprised to see Lando, chatting with Leia. Once she spotted you, she motioned you over, hugging you tightly.

“I never doubted you, (Y/N), but I have to admit, I didn’t expect results like these. This changes everything.”

“I’m glad I could do my part, General.” You said, eyes glimmering. You turned to Lando. “Didn’t expect you to head here so fast.”

“How could I not? You need help. I should have been here a long time ago.” He said, slinging an arm around your shoulders. Just like old times. “I’m here for whatever you need, ladies. Just say the word.”

“Well right now, I need someone wrangling the new recruits. They need to be rounded up from outposts in the Outer Rim.” Leia said.

Lando saluted. “Just give me coordinates and a ship. I can make it happen.”

You left the two of them, turning to sit in your usual seat with the other Jedi. This meeting was a little more broad, more of the operatives from the middle ranks present in addition to the higher-ups.

Laesynda walked past, letting her hand brush on yours as she passed, a knowing smile on her face.

You avoided Poe’s gaze purposefully, but you could feel it on you from across the table. Business as usual, you supposed. He was always giving you those lovesick looks, but now there was something more in those warm brown eyes of his. You loved the feeling.

Leia started the meeting, opening with words of congratulations, the numbers from the previous night broken down in the projection on the holo in the middle of the room. The team burst into applause, several congratulative whoops and hollers sounding. Snap jostled Poe’s shoulder and he finally met your eyes, giving you that charming flyboy wink, handsome features illuminated in the teal light.

Leia moved to the next order of business, the intel Lando had been hard at work gathering. About Mariposas.

“The attack on Mariposas…I believe it was an inside job.” Lando said.

Your heart dropped into your stomach, ears ringing. You looked at Laesynda and she shared the same grim expression you were sure was on your face. You felt Poe’s eyes on you, watching as the rug was torn from beneath your feet.

“I don’t mean to impede on our celebration, I just…With three prominent Mariposans among our ranks, I think it’s a logical conclusion that…two of them were the targets of the original attack. So whoever tipped off the Empire splinter cells, if they’re still alive, could be interested in…”

“Finishing the job.” You said, suddenly exhausted.

“Yeah.” Lando nodded.

He brought up some diagnostics, a map of the planet, a breakdown of the attack. He talked those who were unfamiliar with it through what had happened. You watched as red bloomed across the Healer’s Temple, right where you were, blaster fire taking out the Refuge, where the Healers had retreated. A light attack up front to scare them, a heavy attack on their hiding spot to finish them off.

Immediately, you knew Lando was right. It was an inside job. Only someone who knew the innerworkings of the palace would have known the Healers retreated there in the case of an emergency. Someone who had grown up there, perhaps.

You bristled, watching as the attack continued, further details selling his point further. This was an attack that had been planned and executed by someone intimately familiar with your home. And someone who wanted you dead. Or at the very least, didn’t want you to wake up.

“Maddox.” The name left your mouth coated in venom. “My brother. Had to have been. Only the royal family would have known all of this, to exploit every weak spot in order.”

“Why would your brother…” Poe started, finally daring to speak up.

“He was jealous.” Laesynda said, the memories of him weighing her down, too. “Always jealous. He was the oldest, the heir to the throne. It still wasn’t enough for him. He was jealous (Y/N) was the Jedi of the family. Wanted it to be him.”

“Couldn’t have been our parents. I was asleep, Laesynda was ten. It had to have been Maddox.” You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “Maker, if he wanted me dead so bad, I don’t know why he didn’t just destroy my pod and kill me himself.”

“Because we were there.” Leia said, voice soft. “We were too late to stop the initial attack, but…Han and Lando got the shields up. I guarded your pod. Luke handled the cultists.”

You pressed your lips together, nodding. “Thank you.”

“By the time the fight was over, all of the Healers’ Pendants had been destroyed or…lost. We tried to use the Force to open your pod, but they were designed with that in mind. Only a healer could open it and they were…all gone.”

You took a long breath, nodding as she explained.

Lando looked at you, features apologetic. “And if he is indeed in the First Order, alive after all this time, it stands to reason that…he wouldn’t be happy that you’re awake again, your Highness.”

“Right. Do we have any…intel that he is? On either account, alive or currently working with the First Order?” You asked, adjusting your posture. Your wings twitched. Rey reached for your hand and you gave it to her, the touch comforting, albeit simple.

“Not yet, your Highness, but…We’re working to figure that out. I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page.” Lando said, turning the holo off with a click. “Wanted to make sure we all kept our guards up.”

Leia ran the team through a few other things, mostly preparation for new Resistance members she was anticipating. New quarters would have to be prepared, they’d have to arrange supplies and prepare to train dozens, maybe hundreds, of rookies.

After the meeting, you met Poe’s eyes for a moment. And then, you walked back to your quarters, paces brisk. Uncharacteristic of you to just leave one so early with no discussion of meal plans, no chatter with your peers, to just…disappear. Anyone who knew you would know there was something wrong. And Poe knew you.

The door slid shut behind you and you sat on the mattress, letting out a strangled yell, head in your hands, knees tucked up into your chest and wings flaring out behind you.

Your heart raced in the silence after the scream. The force of it, the Force of you had rattled the trinkets sitting on your dressers. You took a few breaths, leaning back against the wall and staring at the ceiling panel, tears streaming down your cheeks.

The door slid open again and Poe slipped inside, closing it behind him. He melted when he saw you there, looking utterly pathetic, you were sure.

“Hey, baby. You okay? That was some heavy stuff.” He crossed the room, sitting on the bed.

You shook your head and reached for him. He pulled you into his arms immediately, a large hand cradling your head, the other wrapped tight around you, legs draped over his. You buried your face in his shoulder, sobs muffled by his warmth.

He started tracing comforting patterns in your back, letting you get it all out before attempting to talk you through it.

“I feel so stupid, crying about it. It happened so long ago…” You confessed, voice soft and broken.

“Not for you.” Poe reasoned, pressing a kiss to your hairline. One gentle hand found your cheek and he used his thumb to gently wipe your tears away. “Everyone here knows it’s still fresh for you. Of course you’re torn up about it, I would be, too.”

You nodded, sniffling. “I always knew he hated me, but…I guess I just never knew how much. I thought after Endor, everything would cool off. But it doesn’t sound like that’s the case. It was quiet for a while, sure, but…I wasn’t here when things started getting bad. I wasn’t here to help when things got worse…”

He listened, empathy rooted deep in his warm brown eyes. “You’re here now.”

“Yeah, but…”

“What happened, happened. We can’t change the past, starlight.” He said, readjusting his hold, one arm cradling you while the other nestled against your cheek, still gently dabbing at your tears as they fell. “I’m just glad you’re here now. For selfish and unselfish reasons. Rey needs you. I need you. You’ve got a lot of good to do here, and you’ve already done so much.”

You nodded, absorbing his words. He was right. He always seemed to be. “What do you have going on today? Is there somewhere you need to be?”

“It can wait. I’m needed here.” He promised, pressing a kiss to your nose, gentle smile turning mischievous with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Besides, they’ll never find me in here.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. Poe never failed to bring a smile to your face, even when you were feeling like this.

“It’ll be alright, baby.” He reassured. The name still made your heart do flips in your chest. You much preferred it to your stuffy royal titles.

You sat further upright, kissing his soft pink lips. He kissed back, hand tilting your face just so with passionate precision. “I know it will. We’ll make sure of it this time.”

Rise of the Resistance

It wasn’t long before the new recruits started showing up. Lando ran what was akin to a shuttle service for a few weeks, running back and forth in a tiny transport, trying to avoid as much attention as possible. So far, it had worked.

The new folks were a bright bunch. Among them, Wedge Antilles, who had left behind his flight school, taking most of his pupils with him to help the cause.

“You know, as weird as this sounds, I missed it, Princess.” He admitted, hands on his hips, looking around the base, where soldiers ran in neat columns for their morning workout.

“Missed that Rebel air?”

He grinned. “Exactly that.”

Snap walked over, hugging him tightly and that was how you found out Wedge was Snap’s step-dad. Maker, it was a small galaxy after all. You and the other Jedi took a break from training, trying to help everyone get acclimated. You helped with giving tours, showed rookies where to get their breakfast and sleep, teaching them emergency protocol.

You set up a meditation room in an empty storage shed. It left something to be desired, but it was dimly lit, had some soft music playing, various toys and activities for Force training, cushions on the floor for those who could not float in the air while they meditated.

Aspen led some of the new recruits through while you were organizing your books.

“And this is Princess (Y/N) (L/N) of Mariposas, one of three Jedi we have on base.” She motioned to you. “If any of you think you might be Force-Sensitive, this is who you want to come to with questions.”

“We are always looking for new Jedi.” You said. “But this room is for everybody. If you need to get away for a bit, feel free to come here, do some meditation, read. It’s here for you. It gets rough out there, you need to take care of yourselves.”

Hours later, you had a tour group of your own, leading them through the comms center, then the mech workshop, droid repair, where BB-8 was getting a fresh paint job and beeped and whirred at you excitedly.

You led them past the hangar, where there were pilots milling around, about to head out on a perimeter check. Poe was there, stretching in that orange jumpsuit of his. You couldn’t fight the grin that formed when he spotted you, lighting up. He walked over, introducing himself to the group.

“Any pilots?” He asked, scanning your recruits, standing right next to you, hands on his hips, but his elbow brushing your side.

Professional. So, painfully professional.

“Reggie there.” You pointed him out and Reggie volunteered himself with a proud hand in the air.

“That’s the spirit. Welcome to the team, Reg.” He looked at you, glancing at your holo to take a peek at your schedule. “They’re not giving you too much trouble, I hope.”

“Nope, I’m all set with these guys. Bright bunch.” You replied, meeting those warm brown eyes, where mischief always seemed to sparkle.

“Right. Good. So, you don’t have anything penciled in after lunch?”

“I do not.” You confirmed.

“Alright. Well, uh, I’ve gotta hop in that X-Wing for perimeter checks. See you around, your Highness.” He promised, eyebrow quirked. He turned to Reggie. “Nice to meet you, Reggie. I’ll make sure you get acclimated.”

“Thank you, sir.” Reggie replied, starstruck.

You gave Poe a parting smile. Once the group had turned away, you glanced back. He motioned to the zipper of his jumpsuit, then looked at you with over-exaggerated expectation. Your jaw dropped and you rolled your eyes, laughing. Here in front of all of these people was not where you intended to use the Force to unzip his jumpsuit.

Still, you pinched your fingers together, focusing for a moment as you tugged it down the tiniest bit, just enough to tease him. He gasped, clearly not expecting you to actually do it. The way his eyes lit up, though, you could tell he was into it. Perhaps too into it.

The group didn’t notice, too busy buzzing about their future roles. Some of them were buzzing about other topics, like how hot your boyfriend was.

You moved them along to the next spot on the tour, but one of them pushed.

“Who was that?”

“Who, Commander Dameron?”

“He’s a Commander.” She giggled with the girl beside her. They couldn’t have been older than nineteen. It was kind of cute, admittedly. Harmless.

“Wow, he is something.” The other one agreed.

“Best pilot in the galaxy, in fact.” You chimed, heart surging with pride at your overly casual words. “I do think he’s seeing someone though, ladies.”

They both let out dramatic sighs. “Well, whoever they are, I hope they know how lucky they are.”

You chuckled, watching as his X-Wing pulled off into the air, doing a barrel roll right above the group. Now he was showing off. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t do something to you. “Oh she does.”

***

You ate lunch with Rey and Soren, welcoming a few of the new recruits to your table. Finn was busy with tours, too, training people to do various upkeep tasks around the base, keeping everything running smoothly. Poe was standing in the doorway and Rey looked up at him, then glanced at you, then back at him again.

“I think he’s trying to get your attention.” She chuckled, stabbing at the remains of her salad with a fork.

“Oh, is he?” You replied through a smile, still trying to keep up the act.

“I think he’s into you, you know. Finn and I talk about it sometimes.” She said, tone encouraging. “And he is his roommate. And his best friend.”

“Are you implying Finn has some information I should know?” You asked.

She laughed. “I very well may be. Honestly though, you should just go for it. I’ve never seen him look at anyone like that. May as well give it a shot.”

“Yeah.” You smiled at that. “Maybe I’ll go see what his deal is.”

“Good luck.” Rey said, watching as you crossed the room to where he was waiting in the doorway.

You met him with a cordial, professional smile. “Commander Dameron, is there something I can help you with?”

“Actually, yes, there is, Your Royal Highness.”

“Woah, busting out the big title? What’s the special occasion?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to take a walk down the hall with me.”

“Down the hall.” You said with a chuckle, pushing past him and leading him in that direction. Once you were out of earshot of the canteen, you muttered, “How romantic.”

“Oh I’ll show you romantic, Princess.” He replied, tugging open a closet door and grabbing your arm, pulling you inside. He locked the door with a careful click and then he was on you, calloused hands on your cheeks, lips fluid and hungry.

“Poe,” you mumbled into his lips, taken aback, heart revving like an engine.

“You wanna unzip it the rest of the way?” He asked, the rasp in his voice alone telling you he had been thinking about it all morning.

“That did something to you, huh?” You giggled into his mouth as he latched back on, his steps pushing until you hit the wall behind you.

“Sure did.” He agreed, releasing you and holding his arms open, orange jumpsuit there and ready for you, zipped nearly to the top. “Do it.”

“You sure?” You asked, raising a hand, wiggling your fingers with a coy smile on your face.

“Quit teasin’ me, baby.” He warned.

You bit back a laugh, focusing the zipper. You pinched your fingers together and pulled downwards, the zipper falling at your will without either of you touching it. He stared at it for a long moment, that  dangerous spark in his eyes again before he surged forward.

“That is…wow.” He murmured, fire behind his words. One hand cupped your cheek, the other holding your waist as he stepped closer, closer, closer, slotting himself between your legs.

You grabbed the sides of the jumpsuit, pulling it open, working it down his broad shoulders to reveal the thin white undershirt beneath. On top of it, the silver chain he always wore, a simple silver ring threaded through it. A ring you recognized as Shara’s.

“Rey and I had a…conversation…at lunch.” You said between kisses.

“Mmhmm, ‘bout what?” He asked, tilting your head and kissing down your neck. His other hand roamed lower, brushing across one of your wings, sending tingles up your arms.

You let out a shuttered breath, head tilting back against the wall. “She thinks…” another sigh escaped you as he continued to kiss the spot, jaw movements clouding your vision with stars, “you might be into me.”

His lips curled, poised over the vein on your neck. He paused for a moment. “Oh she does, does she?”

“Yeah, she has it on pretty good authority, apparently.” You said, daring to look down at him, at those dark, sultry eyes.

“Yeah, well, she’s not far off.” He breathed, going back in for your neck, determined to leave a mark in the short window of time you had before you and Soren were doing your ground perimeters. “I’m fucking obsessed with you, starlight.”

You moaned at his passioned ministrations on your neck, fingers threading through those lucious curls and giving a gentle tug. His hands hooked under your thighs and he hoisted you onto his hips, your back pressed against the wall of the tiny closet.

You met his eyes, breathless, wings fanned out behind you. “I can’t believe I get to have you, Poe Dameron.”

“Believe it.” He asserted, nose brushing against yours on the way to your lips. You cupped his cheeks with your hands, kissing all over his face before returning. “Kriff, I still wake up every day in disbelief that I get to do this in a closet with a Jedi Princess.”

“We won’t be in closets forever.” You whispered, eyes locking on his. It was a promise. Someday, everyone would know. It wouldn’t have to be a secret anymore.

He nodded, grinned. “Yeah, but…it is kinda thrilling, right?”

“Can’t argue with that.”

His eyes drifted down to your neck and he pulled a plush pink lip between his teeth, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Hey, uhhh…you have a turtleneck you can wear, right?”

Your jaw fell open. “You did not.”

“I might’ve.”

“You might’ve?” You shook your head. “Poe Dameron, what am I going to do with you?”

He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes half-lidded, lips ghosting across yours as he whispered, “More of this, I hope.”

***

Another week came and went. More recruits arrived, but things had hit something of a plateau. Still, your numbers were excellent, a far cry from the shell of a Resistance that had been left after Crait.

Poe was giving the new pilots a walk around the base, all of them suited up in their bright orange jumpsuits, having been fitted for them for the first time. You and Soren were out and about, dressed in your Jedi robes, lightsabers clipped to your belts. You must have just finished some training, he rationalized.

He noticed how some of the pilots in his group stared, watching the two of you with interest. He figured many of them had probably never seen a Jedi before. Hell, he hadn’t until Rey had moved those rocks from the mouth of the tunnel they’d all been trapped inside on that blasted salt planet.

“Is that one the Jedi Princess or the other Jedi?” one of the new pilots asked, voice hushed, as though you could hear his very thoughts at that distance.

“That one is the princess. You can tell by the wings.” Snap explained. “Poe’s good friends with her.”

Good friends. He thought to himself with a chuckle. Just like you and Karé are “good friends.”

“Is she single? Could you put in the good word?” another asked, earning elbows and enthusiastic hollers from his teammates.

Snap laughed out loud, glancing over at Poe, who could feel his ears burn. Cheeks, too.

“Oh, uhhh, Jedi actually aren’t allowed to fall in love.” He lied through a charming smile. “Believe me, I asked her myself. Breaks some ancient Jedi code or something. Sorry, fellas.”

The rookie pilots let out noises of disappointment and Poe couldn’t help but laugh to himself. There. That’d keep them off of you.

“They’re not, huh?” Snap asked, voice quiet enough that the others couldn’t hear. He motioned to you with his head. “Might want to tell her that.”

Snap was right. Poe glanced over and you were looking at him with that starry-eyed gaze. So lovesick he lost track of his footing, tripping right over BB-8, who had been rolling in front of him.

“Poe!”

Bee let out a series of disgruntled beeps and buzzes and he chuckled, embarrassed. He scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry, Bee. You okay, buddy?”

Bee beeped up at you, seemingly unharmed. He was a sturdy little guy, after all.

“I agree, he needs to watch where he’s going.” You said, hands on your hips. You offered one, helping him to his feet. “You hear that, Dameron?”

“Loud and clear, your Highness.” He chuckled, brushing himself off.

“No serious damage?”

“Not that I can find.” Poe blew the hair from his eyes.

You reached up and plucked a single leaf from his curls, handing it to him. “There. For your collection.”

“Thanks, I’ll put it with the rest of ‘em.” He said with a smirk. Poe turned to the assembled rookies, who were murmuring amongst themselves. “Pilots, Princess (Y/N), Princess (Y/N), our new crop of pilots. Get acquainted with her. If you crash in the middle of a fight, she’s the one that’s gonna catch your X-Wing.”

“If it doesn’t blow up before that.” Snap added, earning a few unsettled laughs from the group.

It was a dangerous job. You’d always known that. You liked to think that you helped protect them when you could. When it was possible to. But Poe was always taking a risk when he climbed into that cockpit, even for something as simple as checking perimeters. He knew it, too, which is what made him so damn brave.

“Right. That.” Poe agreed with a bitter chuckle. “How was training?”

“Good. Making progress.” You said, shrugging. You and Soren hadn’t done anything groundbreaking, just sparring. But still, it felt good, like you were both making habits, challenging each other and learning little quirks of battle.

“Good. Good. Well, see ya around.” He gave your arm an awkward little touch.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you returned to Soren, who had a knowing look on his face. You knew then that he knew. That that Jedi intuition had finally clocked what was going on. But he didn’t say anything. Saved you the trouble of explaining yourself, why you were hiding it. 

The Resistance had enough going on. They didn’t need the drama of one of the Jedi entangled with their ace pilot. Especially if something went wrong.

Tags: @cap-lu20

[avelera]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. spread the self-love ���

Ooh, thank you for this! As for tagging onward, I'm terrible at picking people and I hate to impose, so if you see this and want to fill it out just say I sent you ^^;;;

Giving Sanctuary: The Sandman, Dream/Hob, Canon Divergence AU. Basically, "What if Dream and Hob got together in 1689 when Hob was at his lowest and they bonded over the fact both of them have lost their sons?" Probably one of my most emotionally mature works, I poured a lot of my own meditations on life and grief into it, and it has some of the best dialogue I think I've written to date. I'm also quite proud that it's complete, lol, a running theme in this list.

The Only Way Out is Down: Pacific Rim, Newt/Hermann, post-Uprising but in an attempt to make sense of Uprising and add some depth and poetry to the years Newt and Hermann spent apart. Newt is trapped in a coma after the Precursors are destroyed and Hermann Drifts with him to try to wake him up. In the meantime, they pass through a mindscape inspired by Dante's Inferno, in which each of the 9 years they spent apart take on an aspect inspired by the Circles of Hell that they have to disrupt in order to move on to the next one. Basically a Newt Recovery fic that flips the script and explores how gut-wrenching and traumatizing those years would have been for both of them, but with a lot of humor and healing, this is not meant to be an angsty slog and some of my best comedy is in it too I think. Quite proud of how I interwove Dante's "Inferno" into the structure of the story, quite proud of the fact it's finished and novel-length, and I think I grew at writing character voices and sustaining them throughout a massively long fic with this one. I still jump to read any comments I get for this one because I'm so proud of it, you would not believe how much work went into it.

Prayers to Broken Stone: The Hobbit, Thorin/Bilbo, BotFA fixit in a way but we take the long way 'round. Dragon Sickness literally turns Thorin into a dragon and he and Bilbo need to survive being locked up alone inside Erebor long enough to find a cure for him, or else. The story is much more psychological than it may sound, it's much more about exploring Thorin's trauma through the lens of him turning into the creature he fears and loathes most in the world. Very proud of this fic since it's the first long fic I ever finished, it's the one that made me actually attend some highly competitive writing workshops since I finally felt like I had become a competent enough writer to be able to actually complete a novel. Also quite proud of the characterization, voices, and mythology created for this one.

Shanghaied: Pacific Rim, Newt/Hermann, post-Uprising again. Post-recovery fic, Newt returns to Shanghai where he was held captive by the Precursors for ten years and slowly spirals mentally when forced to confront the physical location of his torment once more, all while trying to put on a brave face for Hermann that only grows more manic as the night goes on. Still perhaps one of my most emotionally... sincere? works? It's the most based on personal experience during a bad time in my life but translated into a flavor of angst I don't see as much of in fic, it's probably one of my more literary pieces in that respect? Anyway, I'm very proud of the maturity of emotion in this one so I always race to see any comments that get left on it.

5. Come live with me and be my love: The Sandman, Dream/Hob, alternate 1789 hookup. Dream loses a bet to Desire and must live for one year as a normal human, in this specific case, one year as the husband or wife of a human of his choosing, without almost any of his powers, in order to better understand how humans live. Dream chooses Hob as his spouse, naturally, since Hob is the least unbearable of humans and not mortal and therefore not in danger from him. Hob is only too glad to oblige but unfortunately, this means Dream has to pretend to be a woman in order for them to blend in, so shenanigans ensue. While this is still a WIP I do intend to return to it and I am massively proud of it. I think it's one of the works I've done the most worldbuilding for from scratch, in the sense that I had to quickly familiarize myself to a reasonable degree with early 1800s England, a period I'm not actually all that fond of in history (I'm not really an Austen or Bridgerton fan, to say the least). I think it has some of my most ambitious writing in terms of scope and scale and some of the more clever writing in terms of building tension and crafting original characters who lend realism to the setting without overwhelming the central, more important characters of Dream/Hob and their story.

[sweetiereads]

dreamlike letters / 2023

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⁘ february bts fic recs ⁘

𝐋 𝐄 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃

[ f ] 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 ; [ a ] 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 ; [ s ] 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 ; [ 𝖼 ] 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄

(𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫) 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 ; ��𝐣𝐤 @angelguk ❥ oneshot, { a }

maybe if you’d reached out a little further, held his hand a little tighter, it wouldn’t hurt this bad to let go. except it would - it always would. because the one person you’ll never be able to let go is jeongguk. 

+ highlights: I love angst for a particular reason and your writing is another testiment as to why. What makes it so painful is in the way it's written--so beautifully, it hurts.

Every word you wrote was intentional with its placement which really pulls us in as readers. It's so easy to be immersed into your stories.

Your writing comes across soft and gentle, with witty remarks that make it lively and sweet. I just live for the poetic moments you've written in.

❥full review

𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 ; 𝐣𝐣𝐤 @vsualitae ❥ oneshot, { s }

Your days off finally matched up and after waking up later than usual, Jungkook is feeling well rested and quite amorous.

+ highlights: I am in love with the way you set the scene here. It made it so easy to be immersed and feel like we were really there in bed under the duvet with jk 🥺 There are tiny details like the description of the cold weather too and it made the entire thing more cozy. I loved the use of contrast in that way!

I live for reader and Jungkook’s dynamic! Their relationship seemed so authentic, just what I envision a fwb relationship would be like with him. One with lots of teasing and of course, it wouldn’t be jk without mentioning his competitive streak.

❥ full review

𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝 ; 𝐤𝐧𝐣 @ahundredtimesover ❥ oneshot, { a + s }

For years as a sculptor, you felt detached from your own work - unable to title them, describe them, name the most basic emotions that artists should be in tune with. A chance encounter with a man one winter night finds you in a journey of finding your own meaning. And as you slowly discover what it means to create and to feel, you find out that this might also be what pulls both of you far apart.

+ highlights: I am feeling so many things all at once and strongly at that, that it is almost painful. you captured everything I love and admire about Namjoon and formulated it into something so beauful and introspective. The themes of love and intimacy are some of my favouite to read about. You've executed it so beautifully. The story is gut wrenching in all the right ways. There wasn't a moment where my heart wasn't in my throat, I feel so much for this couple.

❥ full review - to be posted !

+ misc // non - bts // k-pop

𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐞 ; 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐠 @dark-muse-iris ❥ oneshot, { a + s } On the last night before you break up with your girlfriend of two years, you say goodbye the only way you know how.

+ highlights: I don’t think I’ve ever felt so much pain in my life omg.

I feel so much for Reader and Handong. The dramatic irony here is what makes everything so painful. Reader spending this night with her knowing it’ll be the last while Handong remains none the wiser (I am ill).

Your writing was so beautiful and that is what makes it more painful. The contrast of Handong’s pleasure, and what lies ahead just beyond the threshold of their relationship. How reader can’t help herself and continues to fuel the fire.

❥ full review

[geuwon]

pairing: zoro x sanji / zosan (one piece)

genre: fluff, idiocy, getting together, mutual pining

warnings: none, just headache inducing dumbassery from the two of them

ao3

sanji never liked books. he thinks they're too unrealistic to entertain him. the only ones he can stand are those with recipes.

that was until robin introduced him to a "stupid" romance novel, one that he liked quite a lot.

since then, he's become a bookworm and bonds more with robin over their shared interests. he has also been comparing a certain marimo to the books he enjoys.

about how unpredictable the novels that robin recommended to him are, just like the seaweed. how he enjoys watching zoro's day-to-day routine, just like how the books entertain him. how he thinks he knows where the story is going but then it takes a huge turn- just like zoro, who surprises him with every move he does.

a plot twist, an enigma, that's what zoro is. zoro is like a book to sanji, maybe that's what got him hooked to books in the first place- which he never liked from the start, zoro, yes that's it. he likes books like how he likes zoro.

but of course, the marimo doesn't need to know that.

just like in books, he's gonna be watching from afar, silently watching zoro until he gets his own lover and reaches a happy ending. then that's where his cue to stop is going to come.

books are entertaining and this should be as well, right? he's gonna stay as an outsider from zoro's romance story, like how he reads books. he's gonna root for zoro, the main lead, and his love interest, he would want them to get together, for his own enjoyment as well.

so why the hell does it hurt?

guess that's the difference between books and reality.

the other gives you little pangs of pain whenever the main couple have misunderstandings, the other.. well, makes you suffer in silence. much worse that being kicked by blackleg sanji himself, the very own sanji bets.

'whatever', the blonde brushes it off. these stupid feelings will go away soon anyway. he's too busy to fall inlove, it won't do him any good in finding the All Blue. 'it's just a little crush because zoro is so cool and hot- nothing serious.'

is what he'd like to say if this "stupid little crush" hasn't been here for the past 6 months already.

okay- so he might be slightly inlove with the marimo BUT it's sure to go away soon. he swears.

while he was having an internal conflict about his dumbass feelings, zoro casted him a look, and gave a gut-wrenching (positive) smile that made him want to rip out his beating heart in an instant.

it's times like these that sanji falls harder for the goddamn marimo. a smile so so small while he's working out and the blonde relaxing a few inches away, a pat on the head after zoro finishes his dinner as a praise for sanji's (usual) great food, zoro hearing him out when a sudden depressive episode hits him while they're on night watch, god fucking damn it.

he IS head over heels for zoro, fine. fuck you if you somehow get the balls to mention all of this information to the dumbass.

he has no clue about sanji's feelings, and it shall stay that way because he's not kidding when he says he's gonna throw himself out of the ship, in the middle of this huge ass sea, if god forbid his feelings reached the ears of the seaweed.

zoro suddenly stopped lifting his weights and looked at sanji for a second and said, "hey cook, the dessert earlier was amazing. you remembered that i don't like sweets, thanks."

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.

A RARE COMPLIMENT FROM ZORO HE'S GOING TO ACTUALLY DIE.

"ah.. it's nothing. what kind if cook am i if i don't please my customers, yeah?" sanji managed to reply normally despite malfunctioning like crazy on the inside.

he fucking hates this side of zoro.

the rare, soft, gentle, zoro who you might mistake for the man of your dreams if it weren't for the fact that this side of him is the complete opposite of the real zoro who is a brute, stupid, no-table-manners, swordsman.

the soft zoro who always manages to catch sanji off-guard and makes him wanna throw himself to outer space and never come back because of how much his heart was beating for the marimo.

he is exaggerating but he can't help it he's head over heels for the swordsman- not that he actually wants to admit to it.

despite sanji's brain going into ruins he failed to miss the smile that zoro- again- gave him.

this is the worst.

he only wanted to relax in this fine afternoon after the exhaustion of which feeding the bottomless pit that is luffy's stomach gave him, not fall inlove harder with this crewmate!

it doesn't help that their other friends are out enjoying themselves and left only the two of them to guard the ship.

yes, that's right, guard the ship AND NOT UNDRESS THE MARIMO WITH HIS EYES.

this is the worst, oh god- this is the first time he turned to the guy above whom everyone worships and it is shameless to ask but- sanji wishes for a sea king to just appear and swallow him, never to be found, never to come back aboard on the ship with the man he loves.

well apparently god hates non-worshippers because the marimo just had to talk to him again- now with a slight blush on his face.

huh? a blush? what? why-

"cook, are you dating someone?" zoro asked with a voice so quiet it makes it seem like he didn't want to speak in the first place.

sanji, confused, and quite frankly tired of running around in his own mind just because his crush did something cute, replied with a raised voice, "HUH?" which seem to have startled zoro a bit, he's used with the cook yelling all the damn time but he didn't really expect that the blonde would take offense from the question.

zoro slightly panicking, took his question back "shit. should i have not asked? sorry cook, i was curious and robin told me to ju-" but he was cut off when sanji gave a reply.

"no no no just wait you goddamn marimo- i'm not dating someone. and what do you mean you were curious?!" sanji replied with a blush that you can never miss, even if you were the dumbest seaweed on earth.

zoro returned the blush, equally flustered as the other because his motive was just exposed to the chef, "yeah- uh- i was curious, it's like i know everything about you but not if you have a lover or something.. i asked robin and she told me to just ask you directly and i did. is that weird?"

shit. zoro's actions makes it seem like he likes him back.

wait.

like.. him.. back?

"w-why were you curious in the first place anyway? i'm pretty sure you don't have a single romantic bone in you... the question isn't weird but now it is because it came from you!" sanji asked- more like demanded to know to be honest- the blush still not going away from his face.

zoro gave him a dumbfounded look, like sanji was THE dumb one, "why would you ask that? i thought you knew...?" he said with genuine confusion.

before sanji could ask- yell 'what the hell does that mean marimo?!' zoro spoke again, the most unbelievable sentence so far.

"i like you, cook."

for the love of everything holy.

sanji bursted out laughing, though not genuine, "no- haha, i must be dreaming! i read too many romance novels and now i'm projecting on my dreams that the stupid marimo actually likes me back! yeah that's it- that's what's happening here. this isn't real." he nervously laughed it off, after all it's impossible that the roronoa zoro has romantic feelings for someone, let anyone sanji himself.

the chef was proven wrong when zoro's reaction turned into one of concern, "the hell do you mean cook? this is real life. i'm being genuine here and you just laughed it off, just say so if you feel the same way, i can actually take rejections you know." after he uttered the last bit, zoro's expression turned into just genuine sadness, definitely a reaction you wouldn't expect from the man himself.

"no, god no, it's not like that you dumbass marimo! didn't you hear what i just said? i said i like you but i never expected for you to return the feelings- hell, i didn't even expect you to know your own feelings! it just feels like a dream, you know? i've been fighting my feelings for 6 months already and i swore to never let you know but here you are, confessing. i even compared you to the romance novels that robin gave me- said i would've been okay with just watching you from afar getting all happy and soft with your lover even if i knew it was a lie but then you went ahead and said all this. of course i wouldn't believe it!" sanji was practically rambling but he didn't really care, as long as the message gets through zoro's thick skull.

"what? 6 months? i never noticed!"

sanji lit up a cigarette to hide his embarrassment, "told ya' you're stupid." then he blew out a smoke.

zoro frowned at his response, "i could say the same thing to you shit cook. i've been flirting with you for 9 months already and you never noticed."

the chef choked on his own smoke, "what the hell?! how long have you liked me!?" sanji yelled while coughing slightly and zoro replied with the same volume, "since arlong park you dumbass!"

"then why the fuck did you not tell me!?"

"you're always flirting with women, who would?"

sanji looked over at zoro who he didn't notice scooted near him and stopped working out completely, and if he wasn't observant enough he would've missed the pout-y expression that zoro was making, though he was amazing at hiding it.

"yeah, my bad. we're just both idiots huh?" the cook extinguished his cigarette and grinned, zoro shortly returned the face, "yeah. you're worse though. dense as hell love cook."

"even the most intelligent person wouldn't know if you're flirting you idiot! you're always glaring at me and picking a fight, how the hell would i catch the hint? it's not like i can rea-"

"shut up and kiss me, shit cook."

they spent the whole afternoon making out (gross) and cuddling, when the crew came back they sneakily went back to doing their own thing as if nothing romantic happened in the first place.

the crew could tell though. the first fight that broke out between them after the others arrived back from their little trip was practically filled with hearts and flowers all over the both of them.

oh and a certain someone was definitely spying on them, congratulating sanji for making the scenes in his favorite romance novels come to life, albeit not as romantic.

though it is quite obvious that the cook wouldn't have his own romance any other way.

[theboogierat]

blaire is peak and why rusty can't write truly evil women

If you've found this post, I don't need to introduce Leasebound to you.

Instead, we're going to talk about the fandom.

Leasebound's fandom has a sort of Lemony-Snicket-esque schism, with Rusty's intended audience and (hilariously) the exact opposite. I've seen both sides of the Leasebound audience, and I've noticed something interesting.

...nobody hates Blaire.

Okay, that's a HELL of a sentence to make, and very exaggerated. I've seen 'Blaire unenjoyers' and other people treating Blaire like the Eric Cartman of Leasebound, it's an eye-catching statement that makes people read more of the text post.

But I wouldn't call it wrong, I'd give it a 'hyperbolic.'

Even on the side of Rusty's intended audience, Blaire isn't loathed. I've seen many enjoyers of Blaire who either talk about how much they went her to talk gender to them, so to say. On the flipside, the worst interpretation of Blaire is a misogynist who pushes her activism on other people, which is more or less her canon intent.

But if Blaire was as bad as Rusty Hearts portrayed her, I don't think we'd see so much art of Blaire. In fact, I put down a poll, and Blaire pretty much took the #1 spot for the 'character with the most fanart' almost instantly, beating out characters such as Jaden (who took silver), Riley, and Violet. And it pretty much sticks!

I've seen a lot of Blaire fanart from the Leasebound tag on both sides! I've seen a lot of Blaire discussion and discourse on both sides, either about the possibility of a redemption arc, a rewrite, thirsting over her, etc.

So...we can pretty much say Blaire is a bad strawman.

Strawmen are supposed to be one-note characters the main cast is supposed to be more interesting than and can fight with no pushback. Blaire is massively popular across the board in the Leasebound fandom, has discussions about her that are multi-layered, and has wonderful fanart from people that really like her.

Done. That's all.

But we're not done. We need to keep talking.

Rusty Leasebound is very good at some things. Her chapter focusing on Shez had emotional, gut-wrenching art, and there is a definite appealing quality to the way she draws things.

Some things, atleast.

But Rusty is not a great writer. There's tons of other essays and an entire discord server that can point all the flaws in her story out enough to write an epic worthy of the Mahabharata. Leasebound has largely forgotten what it is to be a mouthpiece for her political opinions, its characters are one-note and one-dimensional, she focuses on the wrong things at the wrong time, and many more that will make my fingers cry as I type this. But I want to focus of Rusty's tendencies to tell, not show.

Blaire is not evil. She's not even Maleficent or Ursula or Cruella evil. And she's no Makima either. Blaire is just a woman passionate about her beliefs, and makes the mistake of pushing them on other people. That's not evil, that's a flaw. Women cannot be perfect all the time.

But we're meant to believe she is evil. In this panel of the Actor!AU, we are TOLD by Rusty that Blaire is meant to be evil.

Blaire isn't evil! Come back to me when she puts a living creature in a blender, or something!

While the statement is understandable, you're using it in the wrong way! Because there is no reason for the casual Leasebound reader to ever believe Blaire is evil, the way you portray her!

(Yes, casual Leasebound readers exist. Quinty's one.)

And there's multiple occasions of this 'tell, don't show' narrative Rusty keeps pushing.

For example: Meriam.

Meriam is told to be the protective, strong mother, but I'm not sure that's entirely the case.

Meriam has serious flaws in her parenting that is never acknowledged. Shez was made to basically worry for her siblings at a young age, which sounds horrible for a young girl.

(side note: criticism of the comic has often lead to more interesting, and realistic plotlines for leasebound to include.)

She's obviously traumatised, and it shows in her parenting. When she shuns out Rissa and her boyfriend; that's not good! If Rissa wants her family by her side, she won't get it because she's marrying a man. Meriam always keeps Shez on the pedestal like she's Luisa from Encanto.

Nobody asks how's Shez. Someone help Shez.

And there's so much more!

We get snippets of Riley, a MAIN CHARACTER'S backstory from one-off panels and dialouges, but we heard the majority of it from Rusty in the comment section, Rusty confirming fan speculation, the cast page, non-canon panels, etc. Nothing in the main story!

And that just makes Riley...really boring. The most interesting part of Riley is Blaire right now, and that's REALLY bad, considering we're supposed to dislike Blaire.

Here are some more examples of Rusty telling, not showing:

Muddles:

Riley:

Various statuses of offscreen characters:

Blaire and many others of Rusty's characters have fallen into one of her biggest writing flaws' clutches, but it's interesting as to how fan perception and works have essentially made one of the most three-dimensional characters of the comic, aside from Jaden. And that's one of the main problems with Leasebound.

I want to end this with an open letter. I don't know if she'll read it, but if you do:

Listen to criticism, and find out what's wrong with your comic. Tune in to different parts of the fandom, even when you don't agree with them. At the heart of the war, we all share one thing: reading your comic. Don't take that for granted; many amazing, better written comics would love to have the attention you have. Your art is good. I enjoy reading Leasebound when it's about the characters, not how we're supposed to percieve them. You have something; harness it before it goes away! And at the rate Leasebound is going- it might go away really fast.

Thank you for reading. I don't have anything else to say.

...

Hey, remember when a radfem accidentally reblogged a post by a non-radfem-