#did this inbetween comms

[fluttershyes]

this was suposed to just be a warmup

[mango-shpango]

BEDROCK BRO DOODLE

[kryobug]

hello Guys ❤️ happy new year

been busy playing games and finishing up commissions (I might post them in batches later) but I like these little things enough to post them So? Guess who likes IdV but for 5 month old babies. Sigh

Ilove goldfish🤤🤤🤤 or mirrowbowl🤤🤤🤤🤤 I wanna draw them forreal soon. Also I might change my Poppy fandesign but eyup thats all

[unexpectedbrickattack]

heehee

very bad and messy comic based off a silly convo; apologies for the chicken scratch lmao

feat @beefy-the-stronk's human!vigi heehee :) trying to get love and relationship advice from crude old men may not be the most sound idea hes had, but its definitely not the Worst. at least theyre honest lol

[isatartdump]

Things I made inbetween comms, seeing how well I did in my super important life changing test (it just says if I can get into uni or not) and my never ending tries to learn godot

From my most recent file :p I will be adding more when it isn't 4am

[basketobread]

i'm still working on commissions so blog art is still at a halt but have a few lunara doodles i did inbetween comms huehue

[beddybites]

ill post all the prompts in a sec but you guys are rlly motivating me to write a silly little tiny 21 trio au fic in my free time / inbetween comms help. i dont think ill do a giant storyline thing like i did with baby hashira;; just a bunch of oneshots and stuff. i wish i could draw all of it and make comics of everything i just dont have the time 🧎 maybe i can write stuff and make doodles based on that. save me tiny 21 trio au save me

also. rip baby hashira. i am so sorry i couldnt finish writing u. i learned i hate writing story plotline things overtime. i have failed you

[sleepy0s]

The first part of this is quote-less, and just how they first met. Then i'll add the quotes in :)

(IMPORTANT INFO FOR THIS PLEASE READ!)

**Sun Deity Grian**

- He is the deity of the sun (Obv)

- Gold/light brown, shortish fluffy hair

- slightly tanned skin full of freckles

- amber/gold-ish eyes

- He's got pretty white wings

- Gives off that ‘warm/happy’ feeling most of the time

**Voidwalker Xisuma**

- Cant breath overworld air

- Has an ‘X’ shaped scar above his nose

- Dark, almost black hair - not long, but not short

- Dark eyes with a purplish tint

- Pale-ish skin

- Long black, devil-ish tail with a tuft of ‘void’ on the end. (LIke fur?)

- Small stubby horns on his head

(And, this is like.. Sun Deity Grian was being held captive by the Watchers due to the power he gives off- he's basically a living solar battery. And then they kidnapped Voidwalker XIsuma and threw them in the same cage and yeah

Grian is younger than Xisuma and so hes very protective of Grian.)

(Ill put the translations to the galactic in the inbetween parts)

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Xisuma stumbled as he was shoved into a cell, his tail swishing in and out of existence, they had taken his helmet, comm and any weapons he may have had access to. He was also pretty sure there was blood trickling down his face.

“⍑-⍑ᒷꖎꖎ𝙹..? ∴⍑𝙹 ᔑ∷ᒷ ||𝙹⚍?” A voice, he looked around, trying to find who spoke. Eventually he found the figure of a small.. Avian? They had dirty white wings, and hair that covered their face.

“Pardon.?”

“↸𝙹- ↸𝙹 ||𝙹⚍ リ𝙹ℸ ̣ ᓭ!¡ᒷᔑꖌ gᔑꖎᔑᓵℸ ̣ ╎ᓵ?” Xisuma sighed, unable to understand the language this person was speaking.

“Do you speak English..?” The boy hesitated, as if thinking about his words.

"╎- i uhm, ╎ ᓵᔑリ speak english. リ𝙹ℸ ̣ very ⊣𝙹𝙹�� ℸ ̣ ⍑𝙹⚍⊣⍑ sorry" He coughed, before speaking again, “I speak English.” The boy took a step forwards, his hair moved out of his face to reveal a face full of freckles and the occasional bruise. He stuck his hand out towards Xisuma.

“My name is Grian..”

Xisuma took his hand, shaking it softly, “It's nice to meet you Grian, im Xisuma.”

~~~

1. Hello? Who are you?

2. Do- Do you not speak Galactic?

3. I- I uhm, I can speak english. Not very good though sorry

(LET THE QUOTES BEGIN)

Voidwalker Xisuma: Where are your parents?

Sun deity grian: What are parents?

Voidwalker Xisuma: That’s just about the saddest thing I've ever heard.

~~~

They were sat on the floor, in the middle of their little cell, Grian was sat in front of Xisuma, his wings splayed out as Xisuma preened his wings. They had a nice conversation going on and Grian was keeping them warm.

“Suma, do you have any family?” The question was random, but understandable. If they were to be stuck together it made sense for him to want to know about him.

“Uhm, yeah. I live on a server with my brother, and our parents live in the end. What about you, Grian? Any family?”

Grian paused, thinking about his response. “I've got my twin sister Pearl.?”

“That's lovely, what about your parents?”

He didn't respond for a bit, which worried Xisuma slightly. He was about to speak, when Grian responded. “Xisuma..? What are parents?”

“That is the saddest thing I've ever heard.”

~~~

Watcher: Where’s Grian?

Voidwalker Xisuma: Around.

Watcher: Around?

Watcher: You don’t have any idea, do you?

Sun deity grian, dropping down from above: Did you know there’s a space above the ceiling?

Watcher POV

~~~

There was always a watcher standing guard at the door, and twice a day they entered the cell. For breakfast, and for dinner. - It used to be only The Sun getting two meals, something about ‘keeping the power source alive’ but The Sun refused to eat unless the Voidwalker was given two meals as well.

The watcher entered the room, two plates of ‘food’ in its hands. It paused as it realised there was only one being in the cell, which was the voidwalker. It looked around the cell, hoping the other one was just hiding in a corner, eventually the watcher placed down the food and walked over to the voidwalker.

"∴⍑ᒷ∷ᒷ ╎ᓭ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ᓭ⚍リ?" It sighed, looking at the blank look on the voidwalkers face, “Where is the sun gone?” The voidwalker looked confused for a second.

“The sun.? oh. You mean Grian? He's around.” The voidwalker shrugged, not seeming to be concerned.

“Around..?” The watcher was confused, “You don't know where the Sun is, do you?” He cant have gone far, the cell was supposed to be indestructible.

A tile fell from the roof, and a cheerful figure popped their head down, his smile wide even as he looked at the watcher, “Did you guys know there’s a space above the ceiling?”

"ᓭ⚍リ. ⊣ᒷℸ ̣ ↸𝙹∴リ."

"⎓╎リᒷ."

~~~

1. Where is the sun?

2. Sun. Get down.

3. Fine.

Sun deity Grian: Wow. I keep stepping on a lot of crunchy twigs.

Watcher: Those are bones, Sun.

Sun deity Grian: *looks straight up* Not if I never look down.

This one is before xisuma arrived

~~~

Grian had only been in this place for a few weeks, his hopes were still high although he was extremely bored. And his wings were hurting. And he didn't like the dark. And- and. Well. It sucked.

He was currently walking back and forth the cell, a watcher stood at the top, a tray of food in its hands, it seemed to be examining his movements.

“Wow, I keep stepping on a lot of Crunchy twigs, don't i?” The noise of snapping and crunches could he heard beneath Grians feet.

“T⍑𝙹ᓭᒷ ᔑ∷ᒷ ʖ𝙹リᒷᓭ, s⚍リ.” The watcher spoke with no emotion, watching as Grian immediately snapped his head upwards, refusing to look down.

“Not if I never look down!”

~~~

1. Those are bones, sun.

(I loved writing this idea, will probably write more of sun deity grian and voidwalker xisuma)

[poe-dameron-fandom]

Chapter 5

This is a bit different. It takes place inbetween The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi. I really enjoyed writing the angst on this one. You see more of Y/N Solo and Poe Dameron dynamic. Will they make it through?

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of taking advantage. Mentions of injuries, self destuction.

Word Count: 4.8k

Its been 8 weeks since everything happened, since your dad died, since you watched your brother kill him, since you and Ben fought, since you almost died. You got released out of Medbay 3 weeks ago, but your injuries still overwhelm you with pain. The nightmares are worst, reliving that moment in your dreams every night. Rey is still in search for Luke and the resistance continues to regroup and gain as much intel as they can against the first order before Kylo Ren arises again.

You, however are grounded from missions, Leia and Poe both agreed due to your injuries and the risk of you getting to involved they said its ‘to let you heal’ but right now it doesn’t feel like it. Everyday you are sitting around the base feeling useless you can feel yourself breaking more, you can feel yourself tearing apart and you have no idea how to stop it.

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The Resistance base was quieter than usual, apart from the occasional hum of starfighters in the hangars and the constant, distant chatter on the comms. You are sat cross-legged on a crate just outside the war room, your commlink buzzing in your hand, eyes narrowed at the screen showing the outline of Poe’s current mission — unauthorized modifications, again.

“Poe, I swear if you fly any closer to that destroyer’s wake, I will personally space your engines.” You snap through the comms.

A beat of static. Then his voice — far too calm for someone seconds from being blasted into star dust.

“Relax, Princess. I know what I’m doing.”

Your jaw tightened. He always called you that. Sometimes it was affectionate. Now, it felt like mockery. “Don’t call me that when you’re being a kriffing idiot. You’ve got two rookie pilots on your wing and a freighter that looks like it’s held together with duct tape and wishful thinking.”

“You worry too much. Trust me.” He chuckles which causes more anger from you.

“I did trust you. Until you started flying like you had a death wish.” You snap back sharply.

There was silence on the other end. You regretted it the second you said it — but you didn’t take it back.

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The Resistance base was bathed in the cold blue of dusk. Ships lined the hangar, bruised from battle but alive — unlike the people inside them.

You stood with your arms crossed, your healing wounds burning beneath your jacket. Your posture was stiff, your eyes hard, fixed on the descending X-Wing like a storm waiting to strike.

The ship touched down. The hatch hissed open. Poe jumped down, running a hand through his damp curls, grinning — until he saw you. Your face was unreadable and that scared him a little.

“I’m back in one piece!” he tries to joke but he picks up the vibe from you. “Are you waiting to scold me or kiss me?”

You look coldly at Poe, “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m still deciding if I’m punching you or grounding you but I’m waiting here to ask you what the hell you were thinking Dameron?!”

Poe dropped his grin completely. Here we go, his eyes seemed to say.

“Come on, Y/N/N. The mission was a success. I got the data core. No casualties. That’s a pretty good day in the Resistance, yeah?”

You can feel the anger building up inside you, “That’s not what I asked…You nearly got Snap killed. You took rookie pilots on a suicide run without clearance. You risked three lives for what? A data spike from a half empty Star Destroyer? You could’ve died, Poe! You disobeyed orders- Once Again!”  You can feel Poe pulling away from this conversation, he hates when people tell him off and he hates it even worse when its you.

Poe’s eyes squint as you can see the rage arising in them. “You don’t get to talk about obeying orders. You nearly got yourself killed trying to take on Kylo Ren by yourself.”

The words were a blaster bolt to the chest. You flinched. “You don’t bring him into this.” You muttered quietly still realising that you are on the landing base so others can probably hear me.

Poe steps closer “Why not? That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? You’re still bleeding from that fight — not just the wounds on your back, Y/N/N. You haven’t let anyone in since.”

You can feal the tears building up in your eyes but you are fighting with everything you have to not let them fall. “I can’t. I don’t know how. I’m trying to hold it together and you — you make it impossible! You're reckless, Poe. You don’t listen. You dive into danger like it’s some kind of game—”.

Poe’s voice now becomes raised as he takes a step back “I knew what I was doing.”

This time it was your turn to walk closer, your voice is low and dangerous. “You always say that. ‘I knew what I was doing.’ Like that excuses everything. Like that means I’m not allowed to worry about you. Like that means I’m just supposed to sit here and watch you play hero until the day you don’t come back.”

“You’re acting like I’m some loose cannon. I’m a pilot. This is what I do.” Poe shouts frustration consuming him.

“No! You’re not just a pilot, Poe. You’re the best we’ve got. But lately you’ve been flying like you don’t care if you make it back. Like you’re trying to outrun something. And I should know because I’ve been doing the same damn thing!” You raise your voice at the end, you begin to shove Poe away.

“Maybe that’s the problem, Y/N. You and I — we’re both trying to carry this war on our backs like it’s some kind of penance. But you can’t even see how you’ve shut everyone out!” Poe shouts louder, he tries to grab your wrist to hold but you are quick to get out of grasp and shove him hard in return “don’t turn this on me!” you scold.

“Why not? You haven’t been the same since Han—”

Your hand clenched into a fist. That name — the sound of it from Poe’s mouth — cut deeper than any lightsaber. “D-Don’t. Finish. That sentence.” You stutter and you can feel yourself breaking.

Poe wasn’t done. Anger had overtaken both of them now, loud, raw and hurting. “You want me to stop pretending everything’s fine? Fine. Let’s be real. Your father’s dead. Your brother killed him. And you went after him alone like some martyr and nearly died. You think that makes you strong? It makes you reckless.”

You can feel the sting of tears running down your cheek, all Poe wants to do is wrap you in arms and tell you everything is going to be okay, but in this moment he is as stubborn as you. “You think I don’t know that?! Every day I wake up and remember I wasn’t strong enough to stop him. That I couldn’t save my father. That I couldn’t save Ben. That I almost died and now all I do is sit here — useless, while Rey’s out there doing what I should have done!”

“You’re not useless, Y/N.” Poe’s demeanour begins to soften.

You let out a bitter laugh. “Then why does everyone treat me like I’m broken? Mum, Rey, Finn, you… You look at me like I’m glass. Like I’ll shatter if you touch me too hard.”

Poe grabs your hand, not caring if you retaliate. “I look at you like you’re everything.” Silence fell between you, heavy and unbearable.

“Then why does it feel like we’re falling apart?” Poe hesitates at your question, his jaw clenched.

“Because maybe we are… Y/N/N  I love you. I’m just trying to—”

“You can’t fix me, Poe. I’m not something you fly in and save. I’m broken. And you… you deserve someone who isn’t pulling the pin on their own thermal detonator every day.”

“No. Don’t do this.” Poe begs, his tears now visible. You wipe his tear that he rolling down his cheek. He is rubbing your ring on your finger, the one he put on there promising he would marry you.

“It’s already done.” You stepped past him, each movement slow and deliberate, the weight of your decision anchoring your steps.

You turn and look over your shoulder at Poe, both of you a reflection of eachother, both with tears running down your face. “This isn’t about love. It’s about survival. For both of us. You will end up hating me and I would rather you miss me then hate me.”

You turned, walking off into the depths of the hangar, leaving behind silence — and a man who loved you more than he knew how to fight for. And Poe, for once, didn’t chase after.

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It started with one drink. Then two. Then… you stopped counting.

The ache in your chest never faded, so you drowned it in Corellian whiskey — the same brand your father used to sneak into the Falcon's storage hold when mum wasn’t looking. That memory should’ve hurt less. It didn’t.

Y/N Solo, daughter of legends, Jedi-in-training, hero of the Resistance — now slurring her way through half-empty bottles, eyes hollow, breath heavy. The medics whispered. Your squadmates avoided eye contact. And when you stumbled out of the mess hall late at night, even BB-8 looked worried. You didn’t care because caring meant feeling. And feeling meant remembering and remembering meant pain.

You was halfway through another drink when your feet — or maybe your heart — led you toward Poe’s quarters.

The hallways blurred around her. Lights too bright. The base too quiet. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. I just want to feel something. You thought.

The door chime buzzed once. Then again. Then a thud. Poe sighed from inside his quarters. He already knew who it was.

“Flyboy… open up. I missed you.”

The door slid open to reveal Poe — jaw tight, eyes heavy with concern, and pain behind them. He didn't move to let her in. “Kriff Y/N...You shouldn’t be here like this” he says sternly.  Your shoulders hunched, face flushed, hair a mess, swaying slightly in the corridor light. You reek of alcohol and heartbreak.

“I should be wherever the hell I want to be. You gonna stop me?” You slightly slur. “I needed you. Missed you. Thought maybe…”  You reach your fingers out and brush them seductively down his chest. “You missed me too.”

He gently caught your wrist, steadying you. Not pulling you in but not letting you fall.

“Your drunk” Poe states.

You gasp and dramatically put your hand over your mouth to exaggerate the gasp. “Wow. Sharp as ever. What gave it away?”.

Poe sighs loudly “Y/N go back to your quarters and sleep it off. You don’t want to do this. Not like this.”.

You were bored of talking and pushed Poe out the way strongly to allow yourself access to the room. He tried to stop you, but you was quicker than expected for someone who could barely stand straight. That was the moment everything shattered. There — sitting comfortably on the edge of his bed — was a young woman. Tech uniform, perfectly styled hair, a datapad in her lap. She looked up as Y/N stumbled in, blinking with wide, too-pretty eyes.

“Y-You moved on?” you turn to Poe, you can feel your heart shattering.

“Well, can you blame him? Maybe Poe just likes women who aren’t a complete mess. At least he could fuck me without the extra baggage” she smirks, your attention turns from her back to Poe, you can feel your heart beating through your chest.

Time froze. Poe’s head snapped toward the girl, shock and anger flaring in his eyes. “Oh I see” you say flatly. You lifted the bottle and without breaking eye contact, downed the rest in one long, burning pull. Then you staggered forward, voice venomous.

“How long’s this been going on? Since I walked out? Before? Did you wait until I was broken enough for you to slide inside another girl?”

Poe rushes to you “Y/N, no. That’s not—nothing happened. Nothing was going to happen. She came to drop off crew assignments, that’s it—”

You cut him off, laughing bitterly “Sure. Just like I came here to say hi.” You then threw the bottle to the floor. It shattered, glass spraying in all directions, echoing like a thermal detonator in the confined room. You took your ring- your engagement ring that Poe gave you all that time ago- off the necklace you were still wearing it on and dropped it to the floor, surrounded by the glass.

Poe lunged forward. “Y/N, stop! Nothing happened!” He begged

You turn your attention to the girl, still sitting on his bed smirking “Don’t worry. He’s all yours now.” You turned, eyes glassy with rage and betrayal, and stormed out, slamming the door behind you so hard it nearly bounced back open.

Silence is all that is left. Poe stood in the middle of the room, fists clenched, heart pounding. “Get out!” he snaps with a dangerously quiet tone.

“What?! I didn’t do anything-“ she asked confused and defensive.

Poe shoots her a look, “Why did you say that? What the hell was that? Nothing was going to happen, and now you’ve made it ten thousand times worse.” His tone is sharper.

“She’s a mess, Poe. I was just trying to—”

“Get out.” He snaps

“Excuse me?”

“Get out! Right now.” He is now yelling at her.

She stared at him, stunned, then huffed and walked out, boots crunching on broken glass.

Poe stood there alone, breathing hard. Then he grabbed his comm and keyed it to Leia’s frequency. “General… we need to talk about Y/N.”

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The bottle hadn’t done its job. Not fully. Your hands still trembled as you pushed open the doors to the mess hall, the harsh lights stabbing at your already-blurred vision. It was late, quiet, just a few night-shift soldiers, a couple of mechanics, and one too-eager bartender droid still functioning behind the long metal counter. You slid onto a stool and slapped your empty flask on the bar.

“Something stronger. Don’t stop pouring.” The droid gave a hesitant beep, then filled a new glass with something amber and cruel. You drank and drank again. You wasn’t crying, not anymore. The pain was somewhere behind your eyes now, dull and endless, like the vacuum of space. That’s when he showed up. A voice beside you, warm and laced with that certain kind of charm she'd seen Poe use far too many times.

“You look like someone who’s either had a really bad day… or a really good one she’s trying to forget.”. You turned your head slowly. He was tall, well-built, dark-eyed. A hotshot pilot from Black Squadron — younger than Poe, cockier. The pilot's name was Rix Varo, you had seen him around base a couple of times. He was charming, a little too confident. The kind of man who lived for war stories and dying young. The kind of man you never would’ve looked at twice if you weren’t drowning in grief, rage, and three drinks too many. However he was the kind who never asked too many questions. He was Perfect.

“What if it’s both?” You give him a half crocked smile. He laughed. You hated that it didn’t sound like Poe’s laugh.

“Well, either way… I’m guessing you don’t want to drink alone.” You shrugged and waved the droid for another two.

“You know who I am?” You lean in towards him, breathing on his neck.

“I’d have to be blind not to. Princess of the Resistance, war hero, Solo's daughter…”  He tilts his head “You’re kind of a legend.”

“Well what can I say?! I guess I am” You shoot him a warm smile, you can feel yourself flirting. You hate it but right now you need something to dull the pain you are feeling. He raised his glass to yours. They clinked. You drank more and more until you could barely stand straight.

The conversation blurred and time slipped sideways. You knew exactly what you was doing. Every glance, every joke, every touch of your hand to his arm — it was calculated. You knew Poe would lose his mind if he found out. And some part of you — the twisted, broken part — wanted him to hurt like you was hurting.

As the alcohol kept coming, your control faded and the lines blurred. The pain got louder again and you didn’t stop him when he leaned in close. You didn’t stop him when his hand slid to your thigh. You didn’t stop yourself when you stumbled out of the mess hall, laughing too loudly.

They stumbled through the corridor toward his quarters, your laughter brittle, breath thick with liquor and something more dangerous. The moment the door closed behind you, he turned to face you.

“You sure you want this?”

A beat. You looked up at him, eyes heavy-lidded but sharp — desperate.

“I don’t want to think.” You muttered. That was all the permission he needed. Your mouths met, fast and clumsy. It wasn’t romance. It wasn’t even lust. It was escape. Your fingers tugged at his shirt. He backed you into the wall, hands skating over your arms and sides. You kissed harder, messier, as if intensity could overwrite memory.

“Don’t stop.” You panted. He didn’t. He kissed your neck, your jaw, hands pulling at layers of fabric like you was something to be unwrapped, not someone unravelling. You let him. You wanted to disappear. Just for one night. One hour. One second.

He pulled you toward the bed, and you collapsed in a tangle of sheets, clothes, half-removed and forgotten. But even as he touched you, you wasn’t there. Your mind flickered — not to pleasure, not to the moment — but to Poe.

The way he used to kiss you like you mattered. The way he never made you feel like you had to beg to be held. Rix wasn’t Poe. That was the whole point.

You closed her eyes tighter and bit your lip to stay silent. Tried to pretend your heart wasn’t screaming. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he whispered. You couldn’t answer because the last person who told you that meant it and this time, it felt like a lie.

When it was over, Rix dozed off easily, like this was just another night. Another girl. Another story to boast about tomorrow in the hangar but you lay still, eyes open, staring at the ceiling like it might collapse and finally bury you. Your skin felt cold and your chest felt hollow. You didn’t feel powerful or desired, you felt worse than before. You sat up slowly, clutching the sheet to your chest, staring at the man beside you — not with regret, but with numbness. All you could think was: I traded the only man who ever truly saw me… for this?

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The hallway was dim and quiet at this hour — save for the hiss of vent systems and the low hum of ships parked on the outer deck. You emerged from Rix Varo’s quarters barefoot, hair tangled, boots in one hand. Your face was pale, dark circles under her eyes, lips pressed tight like you was trying not to feel anything. Your head is pounding as the alcohol has started to wear off. You didn’t expect anyone to be out here. Certainly not your mum.

Your mum/The General stood at the end of the corridor, arms folded, dressed in simple command fatigues, but somehow still regal, still commanding. Her eyes met yours. Her expression wasn’t anger, it was disappointment which in your mind was so much worse.

“What the hell have you done?” she asks coldly. You froze.

“I… It’s none of your—” you begin but she cuts you off.

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” She buts in sharply. Leia took a step forward, not yelling — but her voice carried the kind of power that could stop wars, or start them. “You think I don’t know pain? That I haven’t felt what you’re feeling? I lost my son. I lost your father. I might lose the Resistance. But I didn’t throw myself into the arms of the first man who made me forget for five minutes.” You looked away, ashamed. Her voice becomes quieter now “You’re better than this, Y/N. You are your father’s daughter… but he would be heartbroken if he saw you like this.”

You can feel the tears rolling down your face that you have been holding back “I didn’t know where else to put it… All the pain. All the love. I couldn’t— I couldn’t carry it anymore.”

“Then let me carry some of it with you. But not like this. Not like this.” She didn’t say more she just turned and walked away, cloak fluttering behind her. You are left standing alone in the corridor, wearing nothing but the weight of your choices.

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Its only been an hour, the news travelled fast. Rix Varo was bragging in the hangar, unaware that what to him was a notch on the bedpost was, to others, a slow-motion implosion. Poe heard it from Jessika Pava. He was halfway across the base before Jess could finish saying your name.

When Poe arrived at the hangar, Rix was laughing with two other pilots, polishing his gloves, still blissfully unaware of the storm heading toward him. “I mean, yeah — she came to me. Y/N Solo. Not exactly the quiet type either. Pretty sure the whole hallway heard my name.” he grinned bragging about your night together.

Poe hears it. He’s behind Rix before the second recruit can even process it — jaw tight, breath shallow, rage barely restrained. “VARO!!” he growls.

Rix turns, eyebrows lifting — still cocky. “Dameron. Relax, man. We all need a little relief once in a while, right?”

Poe doesn’t hesitate. His fist crashes into Rix’s face. Blood sprays. Rix stumbles back against the X-Wing, stunned. Poe is now shouting “You touched her?!”

Rix wipes his mouth, laughing through blood “Touched her? Mate, she was into it. Practically screamed my name.”

Poe snaps and tackles Rix to the ground. The hangar explodes in movement — shouts from techs, boots scuffing on metal, but no one moves fast enough to stop the storm.

“You don’t get to talk about her like that!” “She was hurting!” “You used her!” Poe screamed in between punches.

Rix now spits out the blood in his mouth “She used me. Looked me dead in the eye and begged me not to stop. She was gagging for it mate.”

Poe lifts him by the collar, slams him against a stack of cargo crates. “She was broken. You saw that. And you took what you could get.”

Rix is smiling through the blood “You mean what you lost.” Poe slams him back again, fury blinding now — until two security officers finally grab his arms and pull him away.

“POE! That’s enough!” Jessika yells across the hangar.

Rix collapses to the floor, coughing, blood dripping from his mouth. He smirks up at Poe through split lips. “Guess she’s not yours anymore, huh?”

Poe’s voice breaks, eyes still locked on Rix “She was never yours. She never will be yours.”

He wrenches out of the officers’ grips, storming toward the exit. He’s shaking, bruised, bleeding, but none of the injuries will compare to his broken heart.

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

Leia stands near a small comm table, arms folded, calm but stern. Poe stands in front of her, his cracked knuckles and still bleeding, cheek bruised. BB-8 waits outside the room silently, sensing this is not his place.

“You know why I have called you in don’t you?” Poe nods timidly “You know I have to officially reprimand you for that fight.”

Poe doesn’t look at her — just stares at the floor, breathing hard, ashamed. Leia takes a harsher tone “You’re a squadron leader, Poe. You’re Rix’s commanding officer. You should know better.”

Poe finally looks up — eyes raw, shaking and hurt “She was hurting. And he used her.”

“She used him, Poe. As much as he used her.” Leia states with authority. That one hits Poe. He opens his mouth, then closes it and runs a hand down his face, frustrated.

“I know. I know that. But I can’t— I can’t hurt her. Even if I want to scream. Even if it’s tearing me apart… I could never lay that on her.”

“So you beat someone else to a pulp instead? That’s not love, Poe. That’s self-destruction.” Leia speaks coldly. He doesn’t reply. The silence is thick between them. Poe steps forward, voice rising as emotion overtakes him.

“Just… why him, Leia? Of all the people. It had to be Rix bloody Varo. The most arrogant pilot on this base. He was bragging. Like it was a mission he won. Like she was some kind of prize.” His voice breaks. “He said she screamed his name.” Poe spits out bitterly.

Leia winces. Not at the vulgarity — at the pain behind it. Poe’s fists clench. “She’s not like that. She’s not. And he made her sound like some notch on a locker door. I lost it. I didn’t care about the rules. I just— I saw red.”

Leia’s demeanour softens “She wanted someone easy, Poe.” Poe’s head jerks up, eyes flashing with protest. “Someone who didn’t come with memories. Who wouldn’t look at her with history or heartbreak. Come on — you know the truth. No one on this base would dare look at her like that. She’s my daughter. And your girl. Or… she was.” Poe’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t interrupt. “She knew Rix wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t see her as broken. He wouldn’t ask questions. He wouldn’t see her at all. That’s what she wanted.”

Poe lets out a hollow laugh. It sounds like it hurts to breathe. “I would’ve taken her broken.”

“You did.” They both stand in silence, Leia continues “But now it’s up to her to decide if she wants to be whole again.”

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

Poe’s knuckles were bruised, swollen, and streaked with dried blood by the time he returned to his quarters. He hadn’t spoken to anyone since the fight, he doesn’t want to talk. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall. Silent. Seething. Hurting. He heard the door hissed open behind him. He didn’t have to turn around, he knew it was you.

“I heard.” You say quietly trying to gauge the atmosphere. Poe stayed silent. “You broke Rix’s nose.” Still nothing. She stepped inside, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Her voice held that edge — the one Poe recognized too well. The one she used when her walls were high and her heart was breaking underneath. Your vibe now turns cold “You got with someone… so what if I did?”

That got his attention. He turned, jaw tight, eyes burning. “I didn’t get with anyone.” He growled, defeated.

“Could’ve fooled me. She looked real comfortable on your bed.” You laughed sarcastically.

“Nothing happened. Nothing was going to happen.” He defends

“Well… it did with me.” You snap bitterly. Silence is retuned. He stared at her, as if those words were a punch to the gut. “And just so you know… he was pretty good actually.” You lied.

It was meant to hurt, you knew it the second you said it. Poe’s eyes dropped, and you saw something flicker in him. Pain. Disgust. Not just at you — at what they’d both become. You instantly regretted it. “Poe… I didn’t— I just wanted…”

“Wanted me to hurt like you did. Congratulations.” He snaps cutting you off.

They stood in silence for a long beat. Her anger cracked first. “I didn’t do it because I wanted him. I did it because I didn’t want to feel anything. Because I couldn’t look at myself anymore… and I definitely couldn’t look at you.”

You looked down at his hand, saw how he winced when he flexed it. “Let me see that.” He hesitated then extended his cut and bloody hand. You crossed to him, pulled a medkit from the wall, and knelt in front of him. As you cleaned the dried blood from his knuckles, your touch was gentle — a contradiction to all the hurt swirling between them.

“You shouldn’t have hit him.”

“I wanted to hit you.” Poe murmured. You didn’t flinch but nodded in return. “Yeah. I probably deserve it.” You wrapped the gauze around his hand slowly, carefully. Your eyes met — raw, stripped bare.

“You don’t need to destroy yourself just to prove you’re in pain.” Poe’s tone is quiet.

“Neither do you.” When you finished patching his hand, you let it rest in yours for a moment longer than necessary.

“Poe… I’m not okay.” You barely whispered

“I know. Neither am I.” He stood slowly, his hand still in yours. He didn’t pull you into an embrace and you didn’t step closer. There was still too much distance between you — but now, finally, you were facing it together.

[abluishhue]

✨🇵🇸FREE PALESTINE 🇵🇸 ✨

✨🌈COMMS OPEN🌈✨🫂Searching for friends🫂✨

Yo! My name is G! I’m the current host of my DID sys, we have Audhd, BPD, POTs and a few other things.

We’re currently inbetween hyperfixs (and suffering lmao/hj/lh but that’s okay!!)

We’re married to our wonderful partner 💚💛

We draw mostly!!! Check it out if you like :)

[teardew]

-

im thinking about making a patreon because i .. uh .. i cant justify drawing for myself anymore and its killing me lmao

it takes me really long to draw so any time i hav should be spent on comms... iv been trying to fight off burnout by drawing things i like inbetween commissions like that sv anatomy practice and vampire/werewolf mngling was just for me but it still ended up setting me behind schedule because i had to rest my eyes and wrist afterward. but not only that i also wanna like. make a lot more things ...

like i wanna do animal, insect, architectural, jewelry studies and fashion and character design explorations and try designing icon packs and branch out trying embroidery with mixed media and clothes making and get into making like 3d things with clay and soft sculptures. i wanna make historical fashion coloring books with việt phục and fashion zines ...

also theres a lot of stuff i dont post bc im not sure if anyone would be interested in all the design concepts and notes i had for example the homestuck dreamer outfits or the various sha hualing designs and sketches i had before getting to the thing i posted? like i hav a bunch of different sqh outfit and hair designs but theyr more clothing based and not detailed character/face art ...

idk !! it sounds like an excuse. its like, who cares just post it ! i know i shouldnt value my art by the amount of numbers i get from posting on social media and i dont mostly but its kinda unavoidable ? to me ? i know i only post fanart and ppl follow me for that and its not a bad thing ! being realistic i just dont think anybody but me would be interested in it ??

i dont know. god. i dont know what this post is about. ''i dont think anybody would be interested in the things i really wanna make'' but im thinking about making a patreon for things i really wanna make anyway because thats the only way i can justify it is if i can profit off it in some way. i dont really want to, but with my financial circumstances i dont know. i never wanted to make my livelihood off my art. i dont even consider or call myself an ''artist'' really, i just want to MAKE art

i dont know why i still cant find a steady job after 5 months applying to everything and its making me miserable. its embarassing, they say to be persistent with jobs but calling and even walking in to check on applications and watching employers awkwardly try to turn me away without just flat out telling me no even though none of them hire me is an exercise in public humiliation. how bad do you want a job? bad enough to make a fool of myself with nothing to show for it. and i want to make art for myself to cope but it takes too much time and time is money

maybe this post is about my art anxiety under capitalism. i dont know

i think im safe enough now to admit my friends gofundme i was posting about months ago about helping their friend escape their abusive household was actually my gofundme because i was worried about them finding out and preventing me from leaving or internet stalking me afterwards. i did hav a scare when i got a phone call i thought was from my brother but ended up being a police officer, whos my mother's friend ...

but anyways. me admitting this is just to give context that. i ran hundreds of miles away from financial security and everything i ever knew and im still struggling to find steady income nearly half a year later. i just dont understand what im doing wrong. is it my name? is it because im not from here? iv been working continuously ever since i could legally my resume isnt BAD. am i just stupid? should i have just tried to make peace with my lot in life?

i thought getting away from my family would let me be in a better place to create more art, thats one of the things i was so excited about but this feels just as stressful as when i was the only earner supporting my family during covid. i just want a stable job so i can make art. i dont want making art to be my Job. i dont want to be a ''starving artist'' begging for people to care about my art i just want to make art. but fuck i dont know how to sustain any of this

sorry for this mess. insurance is different out here and i havnt been able to find a psych either so its not like i can talk about this in therapy instead of venting on my art blog. all my life i wanted to make things without the fear of it all being destroyed. the main reason i havnt branched out from illustrations is because its entirety can be saved digitally even if its physically ruined. my sketchbooks were thrown away or ripped apart by my family either from carelessness or anger to hurt me but now that im finally enough safe to have them again or make something i can hold in my hands without the fear that someone will come in break it and make me clean up its corpse i cant afford it

i dont know what to do. is it worth it? is making art worth it? i mean. its worth the rent this month. and i still love drawing god this is probably bad for business because i dont want people to feel bad for commissioning me or anything but not to be dramatic why does it feel like im fucking dying

[wolf-among-mechs]

Well, now I got a few questions for you in return. Merc to merc, Clanner to... well, maybe someone twice removed from the Clan family tree.

🟡💛💳🌼🎵

Something along those lines yeah. It's... Complicated. Have a seat. I got a lot of stuff to talk about.

🟡 Where do I currently live. Where I have lived. I grew up on Hephaestus station. Lived a six months on the planet Milton in Lyran space in a dingy little apartment. Then... Dropships and barracks ever since. Had an RV to have my own space for a while. But then our company managed to acquire an Overlord to serve as our base and by our Steiner noble friend and lancemate we made it a lot more habitable with proper living quarters. The most of a home I have had so far.

💛What do I currently pilot. (OOC: It gets a little time fucky wucky here since Asuka here is part of an RPG campaign that hasn't gotten to the Clan Invasion yet. But this blog is an AU where she obviously got that far. Bear with me.)

I hate that my answer is that I am currently inbetween rides currently. My old clan ride got messed up so they are refitting a new one. So let me tell you about one of my favourites. My Marauder II. Designated MAD-5Xc formerly b. Nicknamed "Direwolf" by the crowds at the time. This was somewhat before the Daishis made an entrance in the inner sphere you see. You won't find it on any technical readout. Most our company refit mechs to suit our doctrines. The b model was built by Blackwell as part of a sponsored entry on Solaris in order to build the 'brand' as they were in negotiations with opening up sales to other clients than the dragoons at the time. It was built for me in particular to pilot which is why it has Triple Strength Myomers, a supercharger and a Guardian ECM system. Armed with an ERPPC and small pulse laser in each arm. Backed up by two SRM 6 launchers on the shoulders which always annoyed me slightly. I have always been adept at fighting things up close... Despite the fact that I have tried very hard to work from range.

It was refitted to have two LRM launchers instead but fitted slightly differently along with an Artemis IV system. Because the SRMs never really did really offer much when I had the ability to just run force and snap somebody's legs off by bullrushing them. Maybe you have seen an old holovid of what they called my glorykill on Solaris. Where I barrel into a highlander, snap its legs. Hammer the torso with the barrels furiously before rearing up and bringing the right barrel into the cockpit and fire the PPC as my voice echoes out over the comms and arena "AND STAY DOWN!" I was... A little bit upset at that man at the time.

I loved that mech. I wish I still had it.

My new ride is going to be a Kodiak. Though... Heavily customized. It is being refitted as I mentioned. It brings along a lot of what I enjoyed about the Marauder by removing the Autocannon and missile launchers for PPCs. A new myomer system, an active probe and jump jets. It will be designated Crinos... The reason it is taking so long is that it has a different headshape. More... Wolfish.

💳 Who is/was your most and least favourite client?

Hmm.... Tough. I had to think about my most favourite client. Probably Rasalhagians. They did not like us much when we first started, having bad experiences with mercenaries to start with but it mellowed out fairly quickly after they figured out that we were not a rowdy bunch

As for least favourite. I going to be weird and say probably Federated suns. Their lords have betrayed us four out of six times but at least people above them made steps to repair the relationship. We had one Baron I think he was who decided to turn on us and me specifically because I beat the snot out of his favourite officer in a perfectly legal martial arts tournament. He cheated first though.

🌼What do I think of the clans.

I was born into Wolf's Dragoons. Both mother and father were of the clans. Mechtechs both of them. I was probably going to become one too but I showed great aptitude with mech piloting. And fighting just in general. Probably owing to the fact I have inherited elemental genes from my fathers side. When they invaded the inner sphere I ended up among them. Not by my own will. I ended up prisoner and they after a while figured out that technically I was related to clan Wolf. I had to try for a bit to become a full member. I fought tooth and nail for that and got a trial of position and even managed to earn a blood name. I do not carry it though. During their invasion I came to understand myself through elementals and the clan. The severe mismanagement of operation REVIVAL made opinion of the clans thusly:

Eugenicists with little thought or preparation made for the totality of war. Admittedly I am also very annoyed at having been called freebirth over and over and over and being overruled time and time again despite the fact that I had more experience with the war in the inner sphere they were actually trying to fight. I also find their commitment to honour lacking. Rescinding it when they deem an enemy to be less than human or simply a problem and in the way. That is not to say all warriors of the clans are such nor do I treat them thusly.

I simply believe that they are flawed much like the inner sphere. There are heroes and villains under every banner in the Galaxy. The Clans, the houses of the inner sphere and mercenaries.

🎵 What is a piece of music you enjoy, that you would play in combat on a loop?

I was really hoping somebody would ask me this. I really was. Allow me to send a few sound files your way.

In the cockpit:

It keeps my heart pumping in the midst of combat. It has a really nice melody to me.

In my head:

(OOC: Warning for a bit gore. It is Doom 2k16 after all)

This feels a lot how it feels inside my during a battle.

But. Also an honourable mention to kuritan holovids, they based a villain on me. Well me and my old Black Knight. It sounded a bit like this.

I think after all of that. I owe you at least a few drinks.

[crayolacolor]

hey guys!! i did this once before and it didn't work out because i immediately lost motivation (lol) but i'm gonna take a few art requests as practice for when i (hopefully) start taking comms.

i'd rather it not be anything hyper-specific, just give me a character to draw and i'll draw them! i will accept ocs, but make sure you send me a visual reference!

you can send these to me via my askbox. i'm probably only going to do somewhere inbetween one and five of these at the moment (depending on how long my motivation holds out.)

but if i get more than i can handle rn i'll hold onto them and consider doing them later!

[vivalavili]

Today, Ruhn decides to keep the lunch a secret until noon comes around again. He sits down with Vader in his office after a morning of conference calls and board meetings, giving the man a big grin.

“What is it, Ruhn?” Vader asks curiously.

He grabs the box for Vader and reaches over the desk, gently setting it down in front of him. “Sssso this is from my mama. She packed us both a lunch today.”

“Wait- what?” Vader blinks. “Are you serious?”

“Mhm! So I’ll show you, these boxes are super nifty.” He grabs his own and takes out each stacked container, showing him the contents. “They stack and it’s super easy to store stuff!”

Vader’s breath hitches and he quickly takes out all his containers as well, staring at the food in pure shock even as Ruhn starts to eat.

All it takes is a few bites of the steak and potatoes before he groans at the flavor and grabs his comm, sending you a message of his own. This time, he does it in Huttese, hoping that’s easier for you to read.

Ms. Ekkreth,

Thank you so much for the delicious food you packed me. You did not have to do that but it was a lovely surprise. A lovely surprise and a nice, warm reminder of home. I will savor every single bite.

I smile as I read the message inbetween making loaves of bread and respond quickly,

Emperor Vader,

Thank you. I am proud of my cooking always. I hope you enjoy it and let me know if you like the pies, I haven’t put sugar on top before but I think it’s good.

[scummy-writes]

I will elaborate for a small aside.

-> people who create fanworks are not obligated to cater to an audience at every moment. It is very nice when they do cater to others, in the forms of requests, gifts, etc. However, when someone is sharing something they created for their own personal happiness, keep in mind the sharing aspect. They shared this with you, they did not make it for you.

-> this is not me saying fuck xyz hcs/reader inserts. I am just saying if I walk into a wendys, I am not demanding the service akin of a five star restaurant. If you would like people to create Y content instead of X, politely ask them if they have reqs or comms open and go from there. This is not smth that should be an obligation, is what im trying to say. Most of everything I create are daydreams I had that are catered to my own likes, tastes, etc. I may change a couple of things inbetween posting, and I am willing to do my best to tag everything appropriately, but my god is it infuriating getting shit like "i don't see him as submissive, that doesnt fit his character at all, i-" like ok? Go read shit that has him dominant and leave me alone. I'm a random nerd on the internet workin 40 hrs a week writing shit in my freetime, don't scold me as if I'm a major bestselling author or some shit, just move on.

-> fan creations are for exploring what canon has not/did not explore, as well as expanding on what was established in canon. I want to drill this into peoples heads. Its for exploring. It does not, and never will be, 100% canon compliant as we are not creators for the media this is based off of. Its for havin fun!!!! Treat it as such!!!!!!

I think fandoms as a whole, not singular specific fandoms, have ramped up this odd entitlement with people who create. Vaguely I am aware that this is an issue that has been around for years and years, but I think it's gotten worse with more and more people getting involved with reading fanfiction and eying fanart.

The entitlement is the age old issue of assuming that those who are creating, must create what you want to see. Must create how you view the characters or media, rather than the reality of fan creations being for the people who make them.

It turns into those who create getting odd criticisms. "We didn't see this in canon", "you like viewing him like X when I view him as Y, X is wrong", "I wish you didn't write scenarios with this type of reader insert, this isn't fair to me"

Why do we spit back at people who spent their free time creating! I think it's so stupid to see a piece someone spent hours on, only to go and comment "this doesn't suit my tastes so... :/ you should think about others more when you create for yourself."

And because of this, it's led to people more and more scared to explore ideas. To create ocs. To just TALK about what they've been musing about. Our blogs are not supposed to be consumable to everyone in the fandoms, its supposed to be an archive of OUR thoughts, ideas, fun ramblings, and what we have created. Why are people treating fan creations on the same level as triple A studio creations. We're just fucking nerds having fun about our current interests, what is the damn point in the demand that it must be widely consumable to Everyone and Everyone Elses ideas. God.

* This is not about when fandoms discuss legitimate criticisms/concerns about homophobia, racism, sexism, etc etc. being prevalent in fanworks.

[ositia]

tenma siblings!