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saphirered · 3 years

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I thought this would be an interesting twist: After the failed ritual, what if Lucien's s/o ran into Molly? Thank you!

Okay so this one came out quicker than I expected 😅. Little 'twist' at the end because I could not help myself. I hope you enjoy it! 😘

You warned him. You warned him so many times but he wouldn’t bloody listen. Too caught up in his own game for power, never satisfied. But what were you supposed to do? Stop him? No, you’d never. You loved him more than that but you were not prepared to follow him to his own death. Lucien, you idiot how could you? You tried everything but he didn’t come back. The ritual failed. You didn’t want to uphold your part of the bargain. You knew this mage had ulterior motives and after being granted a peak of those pages she wouldn’t back down.

The woman wanted it all for herself and Lucien stood between her and that power the Eyes of Nine had to offer. Knowing the Tombtakers would follow Lucien to the extremes they would also accept the risks of this ritual and would be content but disappointed should it fail. With what you had seen you knew it shouldn’t fail. You had warned Lucien of your suspicions but his own arrogance made him blind to the consequences of this all. He wouldn’t listen and you were becoming an obstacle so when the ritual was to go down you weren’t there.

Lucien has slipped away from your warm embrace in the dead of night to perform the ritual and of course Vess messed with it, assuring he wouldn’t be able to return to his body therefor as per the agreement, she’d take the book as payment. It was too late when you found him, already dead. No amount of healing or revivification could bring him back to you. You had to accept that but you could enact revenge on the bitch that took him away from you. You’ll have her wishing she was the one in a shallow grave instead.

The Tombtakers diverged, finding their own paths. Cree tried to take you with her but you wouldn’t. You had your own task to complete. After that you could rest. Making the arrangements, finding allies where you could, earning and cashing in favours from anyone of power or resources you could left you with quite the arsenal at your disposal but you couldn’t just walk into the capital of the Dwendalian Empire and murder one of the archmages of the Cerberus Assembly. You had to be patient, lay low and let everyone think you moved on.

Still you visited the grave whenever you could. There was a comfort in the hope that maybe, wherever he was he could hear you. Lucien would probably scold you for going on a revenge path against one of the most powerful magic users on the continent all by your lonesome. He’s one to talk. Nevermind, you told him about your adventures, and hoping to acquire the resources to attempt to bring him back. You won’t give up hope.

Then you returned, returned to find the grave empty. You followed the tracks but they lead you nowhere. You had to find him. You had to find Lucien before anyone else did because what might they do? What state would he be in? Does this mean he’s already ascended? Would this mean he’d truly fully become the Nonagon for once and for all? But most of all, you just want him back in your arms knowing he’d be safe. You’d scour Exandria to find him.

There you are standing in a dark alleyway, hood blocking direct view of your face as you’re quite literally in the middle of a back alley deal. You’re no stranger to the shady business and shady people can most often be found in these places. You pay your contact in exchange for the information your requested, satisfied with the results. You hear commotion on the main street. Guards. Parting from your contact you wait for the guards to pass. That’s when you notice a lavender tiefling bolt past you. A very familiar lavender tiefling.

Confusion, relief, heartache, panic, happiness, disappointment, a wave of emotion hits you in a way you’re not even sure how you’re supposed to feel at this point. Many questions accompany those feelings. What are you supposed to do? Well, go after him of course! If Lucien’s back and he’s being chased by guards, that’s not a good thing for the current situation. Sticking to the shadows you trail along. Lucien may just have lost his touch but perhaps the city is an unfamiliar one to him and alone, he doesn’t know the way. The tattoos are new, so are the rather colourful clothes but you know he never does anything without reason.

You figure out where he’s going, the direction at least and from your own past encounters here you know the side alleys. You take a path that should have you end up ahead of him. You’ll have to take a few rooftops and private yards but it’s the quickest and you’ve done it plenty of times. Once you get in place you take off your cloak, get ready. You hear the guards shouting for reinforcements. The closer he gets from around the corner you can see the smug grin filled with mischief as he runs. You’ve missed that one.

The moment comes and you grab onto him as he passes pulling him into the alley with you, wrapping your cloak around him and pulling the hood up. Hands on both sides of his face you look at him closely. There’s confusion in his eyes as they focus on you. He’s already out of breath but you pull him into a deep kiss. Lucien hits the wall behind him and readjusts the hood of the cloak to keep his face covered. The response to the kiss only comes with the sound of the guards drawing near and is very confused. The guards pass by. They glance into the alley but awkwardly turn back to following the street upon seeing the two of you together.

As soon as they’re gone Mollymauk breaks away from you. He’s breathing heavily more from the run than the kiss you shared. He’s very confused. Indifferent to being kissed by a stranger, this… unexpected to say the least. He’s got no idea who you are but you saved his ass so you’re alright in his books at the moment. That doesn’t mean he’s not wary of you. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you know him, or well whoever he used to be and with the conflicting emotions running through you he’ll have to think fast to spin his bullshit correctly.

“You have no idea how happy I am you’re alive. Does this mean it worked after all? Did you succeed?” You run your thumbs over Lucien’s cheekbones as he holds onto your wrists lightly. The pressure in your chest grows heavier as you await his answer.

“It did. I did. It didn’t go as planned but I’m here now.” Molly works his charm like his life depends on it because he entertains the thought it might. Your touch, there’s something eerily familiar about it, akin to being reminded of a distant long forgotten dream. Hazy but it feels real. He still has no idea who you are and there’s no bells ringing either. While he much rather run far away avoiding any and all connections to a past not his, he cannot help but commend whoever came before him. The one that got buried definitely had a good taste in lovers? Friends? Molly’s not going to assume even though you kissed him quite passionately.

Your chest clenches and it feels as if your breath won’t leave your body, your blood stopping in your veins, like you got hit by an extra dimensional force attempting to pull everything away from you. You listen to Lucien’s words. It looks like him but why do you feel like you hear someone else? It’s not an illusion or some trick you’re sure. If it were your enemies would have known to pick a better imposter and you’d have been dead already. Your own mind fights against this train of thought, justifying it. Lucien had been dead for weeks until you found the empty grave. Of course there were bound to be side effects or even consequences to the ritual. But then again, it had been two years since then. Two years to recover from whatever happened…

“You don’t know me, do you?” Speaking the words out loud breaks your heart. You don’t fight the pain they cause. There’s no tears. You’ve already grieved Lucien once. You’re not doing it again. This will be nothing more than a painful reminder, a cruel joke from the gods behind the divine gate. Why must the fates torture you so for nothing more than loving an ambitious man reaching for the stars and beyond?

“No. I’m sorry.” Molly can’t help but feel your pain. It’s clear you cared a great amount about his predecessor, the way you speak reveals intense heartbreak at the passing of that one. It also shows acceptance that whoever he used to be is gone and you’ve come to terms with that a while ago. That’s enough for him to recognise you won’t hurt him. Molly had never felt sorry for the death of who he used to be and he won’t start now but he does feel sorry for you. This whole situation is messed up.

You close your eyes and nod, dropping your hands and take a step back. No matter how much your heart may tell you to be close to this tiefling, your mind knows it’s not Lucien. You cannot in good conscious hang onto whatever remains. It’s not fair you him, to Lucien but most of all not fair to yourself. Do you wish it was Lucien standing here in front of you? Of course you do. You’d do anything to get him back but what would directing all your pain achieve directed at this new person in the same body? It would accomplish nothing but more pain. You can’t imagine this tiefling in front of you doesn’t have any friends, loved ones, people who care about him. You weren’t going to put you don’t know how many others through the same pain you’ve been put through.

“I am as much of a ghost of the past to you as you are to me.” You’ve come to the conclusion that based of his responses there may not be any recognition, there is an unknown familiarity to you on his end. Perhaps the final slivers of Lucien remaining but nothing more than a fleeting memory. A hand reaches out for yours. You allow him to take your hand and he rubs circles in the back of it with his thumb in an attempt to bring you some comfort. It’s a gesture out of kindness. Not out of selfish intent or with the expectancy to get something out of it, like Lucien would when faced with a stranger he clearly had the upper hand over.

“You seem to have cared for my predecessor, Lucien, quite a lot. I truly am sorry.” You offer him a saddened smile as a silent thank you. He knows Lucien’s name so he must have learned something of the past. You gather it hasn’t been much and most definitely is second hand knowledge by his lack of information on the ritual, who he used to be, everything really.

“You know his name?” The sentence is voiced somewhere in between a question and a statement.

“A blood cleric named Cree. She ran into us-me and mistook me for him. I played along but I don’t think she really bought it. She didn’t reveal much.” The name of the tabaxi alone is enough to make your blood boil. If Cree had known for however long, why hadn’t she gotten in contact with you? You know exactly why and are debating wether or not you could do with a new fur rug. You also acknowledge that Cree is a risk and this new-not Lucien will have to watch his back.

“Since you’re not Lucien nor do you seem to be using that name, what do I call you?”

“Mollymauk Tealeaf or simply Molly to my friends.” The tiefling-Mollymauk smiles at you, a genuine smile. You have to appreciate the small gestures of comfort and kindness.

“I would give you my own name but for both of our sakes I won’t. You may refer to me as an old friend. I know I have no right to but may I ask you a favour?”

Mollymauk nods. As always he leaves a place better than he found it, tries to bring joy and happiness wherever he can even if that means making a fool of himself. Very few times has he been faced with someone who needs his help as much as you do. While there’s definitely limits to what he can provide, you deserve some compassion. Especially after the shitty cards life had dealt to you. He’ll try to ease that if he can.

“May I- May I ask you to tell me about your life, Mollymauk?” Not the request he expected. Then again, to be fair he didn’t really know what to expect. A kiss maybe? Stick along for a while? Perhaps even a final goodbye so you could close this chapter once and for all? But of all the things you asked about him. Not Lucien. Him.

“It’s a long story…” Molly drifts off reminiscing the wild ride of the past two years, especially the events of the last few months upon joining the Mighty Nein and the adventures they had already gone on; were currently on but if you really wanted to hear all about that, he’d tell you.

“I have plenty of time. How about we walk and talk? Get you back to your traveling companions? Your friends? And if there’s still plenty more to tell, if you want to you can tell me over a few drinks. My treat.” You feel within yourself you’d better be able to let go knowing this Mollymauk is happy and lives content. Lucien might be gone but Mollymauk deserves a good life free of Lucien’s burdens. You’ll do what you can to assure that.

“Never tell a story for free. That sounds like a good deal.” Molly offers you his arm and when you hesitate, expects you not to take it but to his surprise you do. There’s something strangely comforting about the whole ordeal. You’re both strangers to each other but it still feels like you have known each other for years.

On your way to where Mollymauk is staying he feels no need to hold back or deceive and instead tells you what happened to him; how he woke up, dug himself out of a grave and was found by a kind man, joined the circus, became a fortune teller, made friends along the way, found a family, many tales of the mischief he was up to, leaving every place better than he found it. You had some good laughs and were able to ask some questions throughout. All in all you came to the conclusion Mollymauk’s life hasn’t been an easy one but it was a good one and he was happy.

Then he found this group of strangers in a tavern somewhere in Trostenwald. His old family was torn away in the wreckage of a devil toad but he found a new one in these strangers. The Mighty Nein. Their time together has been but a few months but they already feel like family and he’d do anything for them. They might be assholes but they’re good people.

You got to meet them. Molly- as he keeps insisting because you are his friend now, introduced you to this Mighty Nein as he thought it best you heard some of these stories from their mouths too for the sake of perspective. He introduced you to them as such; an old friend from the past. The details were left blurry but Molly’s confidence was enough to leave them at the very least accepting and not mistrusting you. They shared their stories with you. They needed him. They may have come far from the assholes they were, but they still had a ways to go. You knew you could not tear that away from him nor did you feel right to join them, even if temporarily.

It’s time for you to say goodbye. You bid your farewell to the Mighty Nein and while they would ask you to stay just a little longer, you know you cannot. You will not insert yourself into their lives based on the merits of your own lies and life. They are free so let them be free. Molly walks you out so you may have one final conversation before you leave his world behind you.

“You don’t have to go yet. They enjoy your company and honestly, they could learn a thing or two from you.” Molly offers as you stand outside of the tavern, the sky since having grown dark and the stars out. The air is cool, winter is drawing near, before you know it the frost will stick to the ground and you’ll be back in Shadycreek plotting the demise of a certain Cerberus Assembly member. You’ll have to leave this all behind.

“You know I can’t. For all of our sakes.” You offer Molly a smile. You’re happy with what you got to see, the stories you were told but this is where it ends and that’s okay. Molly knows it too. Sometimes it’s better to let go than to hang on. You have your own life just as he has his.

“So I guess this is goodbye then.” Molly takes hold of both of your hands and squeezes lightly before he pulls you in for a hug. You return the embrace. Pulling apart enough to look him in the eyes you stroke his cheek, tracing the tattoos fanning up his neck and jaw.

“I am still but a ghost of the past. A ghost I will remain. I wish you a good life, Mollymauk Tealeaf. May we one day meet again.” You kiss his cheek and despite the appearance of Lucien, it doesn’t feel the same. Despite how it may sound, you’re happy it doesn’t. You step out of Molly’s arms.

“May we meet again.” The words Molly speaks are like a breath upon the wind as you walk backwards, one final look at the lavender tiefling as you blend into the darkness, fading like a ghost.

There may be many more things Molly would like to ask you. He’d like to get to know you and the thought that maybe one day he might, sounds like a good day in his mind. You have your own business to take care of first but maybe one day you will meet again. For now a ghost of the past he doesn’t recall you will remain…

——————

But a few months later you find your way back on the road to Shadycreek Run. There you found a grave marker along the Glory Run Road… The marker held a colourful ostentatious red coat embellished to the nines. It appears to have been left to the weather for some time but you recognise it. Hit with a sense of dread you approach the grave already knowing who it belongs to. The least you can do is pay your final respects to the friend you never got to know more.

You dismount your horse guiding it the reins closer to the marker. That’s definitely Molly’s coat. There’s no denying that now. You walk further up the hill offering a silent prayer to the Moonweaver who Molly admitted to being a follower of.

Approaching the grave you see it dug up. You expect grave robbers, thieves of some kind as you brush your fingers over the fabric of the coat. You get a glance of the grave and see it empty instead. Not robbed; empty. No body, nothing but the marker and the coat. Down the other side of the hill you see a figure, a lavender tiefling, tapestry draped around him watching the skies. The back is turned to you so the tiefling doesn’t see you. A wave of both relieve and dread washes over you as you are met with your own ghost of the past.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #critical role #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #mollymauk x reader #lucien x reader

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x0401x · 3 years

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Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #26

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Opera-phile

I had a hobby that I couldn’t tell anyone about. People like me were no rare breed.

Amongst the hobbies I had heard about from my friends until now, the one that made me think “this might be a bit hard to tell someone” the most was that keeping ice cream lids when they finished eating it. They said they would write down the date on each lid and store them in one of those clear files sold at 100-yen shops. They could only eat ice cream on special days when they were little, and they still couldn’t get over the habit of that time. The face of the person who had told me about this seemed simply satisfied in some way. Regardless, this may not have been something so difficult to say because it was revealed at a drinking party.

Now. Bringing the topic back to me.

If you were living alone in a foreign land called Sri Lanka, you could do whatever you wanted. I could get up at any time, eat whatever I felt like, study the things I enjoyed and go wherever I wanted with my Three-Wheeler. I didn’t have much, but the prices were cheap. My culinary repertoire was also noticeably increasing. Even if I danced alone in my room, no one would be watching. No, my dear dog Jirou would stare at me with a bit of a strange look, but there were times when he’d eventually jump up and down and start dancing with me. Even if I listened to music at a loud volume, the same went for my neighbors.

Therefore, I was now thinking that maybe my stopper had come off a little.

I had bought the CD in Colombo, the real capital of Sri Lanka. As one would expect of the biggest shop in the country, they sold a lot of things that were unlikely to be available in Kandy.

The jacket featured a black-haired woman with a spellbound face, both of her arms outstretched. It was an opera CD with twelve songs.

I went back and forth in my room, shouting, “ah~, ah~”. What an opera was? No, I did know. It was traditional singing style – something like a musical, in which singers such as tenor, paritone, soprano and alto would perform along with a play. But something about them that diverged a bit from musicals was that the words used were old, the melodies weren’t excitable, and they were mainly either Italian or French, I believed.

I had no choice but admit it at this point. I liked opera.

Nakata Seigi had the words “I’m in love with opera” floating about in his head. I was driven by an urge to scream “gyaaah” and make said words disappear, but on the CD jacket, Maria Callas was making a spellbound face as usual, and that made me happy. I had purchased this CD after much hesitation over buying this or buying that. There was no way I wouldn’t be happy about it. Still...

Somewhere in my head, I recognized this as something embarrassing.

My dear boss was always telling me to think rationally at such times. He told me that whenever I thought my mind was moving in absurd ways, it always happened that there was some sort of timid development in me, which I either hadn’t noticed or, even if I did notice it, I’d ignore it – but once I understood it, it would stop being absurd.

Why would opera be embarrassing in the first place?

How I had come to like opera? The trigger was the radio. When I was staying at a hotel for a while back in Tokyo, I tended to feel down because I had nothing to do other than study, so I’d sometimes listen to the radio broadcast at the hotel while devoting myself to physics and English.

The singing voice I heard at that time was – how should I put it? – tremendously wonderful.

I couldn’t think that it was the voice of someone from the same world as myself. Someone was singing in a place just a few ways away, and as I listened to it, my body felt like my body was airily floating up – it was that kind of voice. I didn’t have any preferences for either male or female, and if anything, I liked both. The title of the song being streamed was written in the hotel’s guidebook, so I went to a video streaming site and searched for the same song by other singers and the songs that came before and after said piece. Faust. Madama Butterfly. Otello. Rigoletto. The Magic Flute. Don Giovanni. Whenever an opera song was used on a TV show, i became able to at least tell which prelude it was from.

And this passion hadn’t cooled down even now that some time had passed since then.

I walked around the room again, shouting, “Uuuh, uuuh”. Jirou energetically followed me from behind. It was almost as if he meant to say, “It’s fun to go a stroll even inside a room, huh, owner?”. Sorry but it’s not like I’m taking you on a walk, I thought, yet Jirou couldn’t care less, letting out a sweet voice as I held him up and rocked him, and then running off to the yard as if he had gotten excited. Just as I felt relieved, thinking about what a cute fella he was, I found myself imagining something. I could see myself at the drinking party, talking about how I liked opera. The reaction I pictured was an explosion of laughter.

“‘Opera’, you say. What’s up with that? It’s that thing where fat people raise their voices like crazy, right? You like that? Why? No way, Nakata, didn’t you just want to have a rich people hobby just ‘cause you’ve well-off these days? Like, those that feel like you’re superior. That’s exactly what opera is. Okay, I get it, but that ain’t very interesting, so how about we change the topic?”

It gave me chills.

I wasn’t creeped out by how people might talk about my hobbies. However, it was painful to have the whole genre of opera, which had saved me back when I was put in a spot like a light reaching out from the sky, be judged by people who didn’t even know the difference between Callas and Pavarotti and not be able to defend them. I had to protect what was important to me. Or else, it would get damaged. I wasn’t referring to the long-standing form of art that had been cultivated for hundreds of years. I meant my own heart. That was painful to me.

Yeah, I was somewhat aware that this wasn’t an “embarrassment”. But I was scared.

I was low-key terrified of having people pointing their fingers at me from behind with words such as “eccentric”, “weirdo” or “pretentious” for having a preference that was different from other people’s – and something that I seriously liked, no less.

With a deep breath, I took the CD’s vinyl cover. Unlike Japanese CDs, there was none of those convenient little ears that made the cover come off when you pulled it. I slowly cut it with a pair of scissors, set it on a nostalgic stereo radio and played it while referring to the table of track numbers on the backside.

Just from the intro, I already knew who was singing and what song it was.

Maria Callas’s “Casta Diva”. It was a song from an opera called “Norma”, and the meaning of it was “chaste goddess”.

What it made me reminisce to was a seriously horrible time, when I had to prepare for my death to a certain extent. Whenever this song played in the hotel’s radio program, which repeated itself over and over, this song would connect me with paradise, telling me that I didn’t need to worry about trivial matters, so I was able to leave it all aside and relax. It was that kind of song. Without a doubt, my biggest and best saver was that beautiful jeweler, but from the sidelines, opera had definitely helped me keep my sanity.

That was amazing.

I was grateful from the bottom of my heart that this form of art, which couldn’t be classified as mainstream at all in Japan and probably overseas as well, had maintained its thread of life across the centuries. It had saved me. Would the CD sales be of any help to it? Thankfully, I had some money to spend and was probably able to buy a set of all-track CDs per month. Would that be a form of repayment of any kind? It would be great if so, I thought wholeheartedly.

“Casta Diva” wasn’t too long a piece. With a voice that sounded like it was vanishing, the song ended. For whatever reason, it made me feel like crying, no matter how many times I had listened to it. It was too beautiful. It was an impossible speculation, but if Richard turned into a song, I felt that his form would change into something very close to this one.

Once I finished listening to the track, the “aaah”s and “uuuh”s had disappeared from my head. I liked opera. Opera turned into my strength. So I wanted to cherish it.

Even if someone ridiculed me for it, the problem was with the person, not with me or with opera. And my precious, beautiful shopkeeper had stated that “no discriminating other people based on their preferences” was one of the main principles of Etranger. What was I going to do by discriminating myself?

I was going to keep buying opera CDs from now on too, I swore proudly to my heart, yet secretly decided not to write about it in my blog or talk to Richard about it. Not because it was embarrassing. But rather because I had the gut feeling that I couldn’t predict what would happen in the end if I told him.

On that day, I was busy with preparations for cooking. First Saul-san, and then Richard would come to Kandy to hear the reports about the progress of my studies. It was also like a test. But I hadn’t studied half-assedly enough to chicken out at that. Above all, thanks to the negotiations in Ratnapura, I was conscious that my eyes were well-trained, if I could say so myself.

If it didn’t go well even with this, that was fine. I was happy to find new challenges. Lots of things became easier once I started feeling that studying was fun.

And since they were coming over, they wouldn’t get angry if I prepared a bit of a feast. More than anything, being able to cook a few people’s share in this house had me overjoyed. After all, I was basically living alone, so just how many times had I found delicious-looking and cheap food but had to tearfully give up because I wasn’t sure if I could eat it all by myself?

Being surrounded by things that made you happy was extremely good for the heart.

Deciding to go for an additional blow, I set the CD in the radio. A long aria began at the end of the first opus of all songs. It was a French opera called “La Fille du Régiment”, and being fond of this one had greatly helped me when I was studying French.

The man who started to sing that he was going to marry the army was a world-renowned tenor.

In the beginning, the man sang that he was going to do meritorious deeds in the army, cheered on by his companions. Since I had been listening to the words ever since back when I could only hear them as katakana spelling, my mouth moved without any reference. Of course, my voice didn’t sound like that of a tenor, but it had the same gist as somehow trying to sing in the range of a singer from some music show. Just that was fun enough.

A fish pie was baking in the oven. There were three types of curry in the smaller pots. My Nakata-style sliced veggies pickled in soy sauce, which were a mixture of chopped coconut sambal and dried fruits, were lined up on a cutting board, and the fresh fruits that I planned to make into mixed juice were all completely ready. The only thing I had left to do was preparing watalappan for dessert. It had to chill in the fridge for a while, so it was necessary to make it in advance. However, since it was my third time making it, I had the procedure memorized. No worries.

The tenor raised his voice amidst joy. The man who sang, “Ah, I’m going, I’m going to marry the army” didn’t like the army in particular, he was just in love with the abandoned girl that all the men from the regiment he was enlisted in were raising together.

The key switched to waltz. The true value of the tenor would ensue from that point onward.

The oven beeped, indicating that the pie had finished baking. With light steps, put on my gloves, took out the whole iron plate with the pie on it and gently slid it into a white porcelain plate.

A series of splendid high Cs. This referred to when the tenor raised their voice a great deal. If the composer was wonderful in reproducing the feelings of happiness into the music so keenly, then so was the singer who sang them so faithfully, I believed. The feeling of excitement turned into the melody just the way it was.

I arranged the dishes on the table and peeled the fruits. The high Cs continued one after another. I opened a can of coconut milk and mixed the contents with nut paste. The song was approaching the end. “What a fate, what a fate,” he sang, sounding merry. The highest note was near.

The song was coming to a close while celebrating happiness with the highest note. The feelings of the singer weren’t recorded in the CD, but I could hear them as comfortably as could be.

It wasn’t nearly high enough, but I sang along at a fairly loud volume.

At the same time as the song finished with a flashy grace note, I lightly kicked the open lid of the oven. It closed up neatly. With this, everything was all set. I was going to put away the CD set before the guests arrived.

Or so I had planned.

After the peak of my excitement, I noticed that someone was standing outside the window. He hadn’t come in from the front door. Hence the chime didn’t ring.

“Bravo, bravissimo.” A beautiful man wearing a white shirt and sunglasses, said glasses charmingly pushed up above his forehead, was smiling while applauding at my stiffened self.

The test was terrible that day. I didn’t think there was any issue with the contents of my answers. However, since I was stuttering so much, Saul, my mentor who was so picky about manner of speech as well as the contents of it, pointed out that I should “act more dignified”. I knew that better than anyone. There was too much noise interference in my head with things such as, “Why did I put opera on in such high spirits? What did he think of me now? As I thought, does he think that this hobby doesn’t suit me? No, that’s definitely impossible when it comes to my teacher, so I have to take control of my self-consciousness”.

And so, this is a story that happened more than half a year after that. Something that took place in Sri Lanka in May.

“Eh?”

“Happy birthday, Seigi. Here is a little present.”

“A bank deposit transfer certificate?”

“Good job reading it. That is from the USA.”

“USA...”

“There was a seat that you would probably like, so I purchased a year’s worth of it.”

“A year”? This wasn’t potato chips or cup noodles. What kind of seat was that? Was there a truck coming to deliver it? While thinking about such things, I continued reading the A4 paper, and when I got to half of it, I roared loudly. I let out a voice that sounded like a crushed frog, I believed.

The seat that Richard had given me was indeed a seat. But at a music theatre in America, which was likely the world’s most famous. It was a one-year membership card.

This was proof that “a seat will be reserved for you”. A seat just for me, for any performance, that I could use whenever I went there.

I felt lightheaded. Just how much had this “seat” cost him? What was he trying to do by giving something like this to someone who sat in swivel chairs sold at mass retailers? I did have such rational retorts in my head, but above that, I was so, so happy that I started jumping up and down. I could go to a theatre that I only knew about from CDs. Anytime, as long as I had the plane tickets. No matter who was singing.

“Can I really have this?!”

“Do you think I’m some sort of boorish lad who’d take back the treasure after making the other person happy?”

“No way! Uoooh, I’m too excited; that’s bad!”

“You are reacting like a dog again...”

“I’m gonna run in the yard for a bit!”

As I, with a messy katakana pronunciation, sang to myself the chorus part of the aria that had just finished while rolling around in the yard, Jirou ran over and mounted on me without restraint. “Owner, we’re going to play here, right? We’re going to play here, right? Come, let’s play,” he seemed to say, energetically wagging his tail. I was so happy that I hugged him and rolled about, but then I could see Richard laughing. The yard was on a slightly lower level than the house, so the house was wholly visible, so I didn’t think I was mistaken. He really was making a happy-looking face. This might have been my first time seeing that man laugh with such a child-like expression.

At that moment, something suddenly came to mind.

When Richard told me for the first time that he “likes pudding”, did he also think for a bit that it was embarrassing or wonder about what I was going to say? This man had thorough knowledge about the so-called “society”. There was no way that he hadn’t considered the possibility.

But he had told me about it.

Did I not say anything weird to him back then? “A man, liking pudding?” or “Why would a foreigner like a Japanese dessert?” It gave me the creeps. Back then, I didn’t have as much care as now regarding how to handle such circumstances. I just had words jumping out of my mouth like knives. This still applies even now, but I wanted to think it had gotten better, even if just a little.

Had I not said anything to him? Had I not hurt him? I didn’t have any way to confirm that now. If I apologized without knowing what I had said, it wouldn’t be a sincere apology.

But right now, Richard was looking at my happy self and smiling.

So I decided to stop thinking about these things. And from now on too, I would keep making heaps upon heaps of the things he liked.

I had to protect what was important to me by myself. But if I happened to notice something that mattered to someone who was dear to me, I wanted to cherish it too. I had no other choice.

After stroking Jirou, I went back to where Richard was and bowed to him again. He reciprocated the bow with a “you are welcome” and seemed about to start laughing again.

“That’s right, I was gonna make pudding. Wait just a bit more.”

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“You already got me a seat at the MET; I can’t go along with that flattery even as a joke. I’d be happy if you played with Jirou, though.”

“Then, I will take you up on those words.”

Rubbing my chest in relief, I went back to my room, patting my whole body to remove the dirt and dog hairs, and after washing my hands with soap, I returned to the kitchen.

By the looks of it, I was going to be able to listen to an opera in person one of these days – at least within a year’s time. Once I watched it live, all the curtains would close, right? For real? Was such a thing possible? Apparently yes. Hard to believe but it was true.

That man who was like an incarnation of the worldwide definition of “beauty”, and above that, who was a genius at pleasing me, was fooling around with my hybrid brown dog in the yard, illuminated by tropical sunshine. It seemed that the preparations for our feast would still take a while.

“What a wonderful day,” I hummed tentatively in French. A gorgeous tenor voice wouldn’t come out of my throat, but the things I liked would firmly support my heart nevertheless. Almost like a backbone for it. And there was someone supporting this backbone. Honestly, what a wonderful day. For now, I’d be making pudding. And share at least a little bit of this feeling.

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #housekishou richard #jeweler richard #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #richard ranashinghe de vulpian #richard ranashinha de vulpian #jr short story collection #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #my translation #richard

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nalu4emily · 3 years

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Nure-Onna

Hello!

So I wanted to write a story based on chapter 74 of FT 100YQ. Mostly, I was happy with it, but I wanted to make it even more Nalu, and this was the result.

Yes, I am aware that this wouldn't actually happen, but it's fun to write up something that diverges from canon just a little, that's what fanfiction is for, so indulge me.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and if not, you can always read the real thing. :)

Summary: With Lucy as the newly created Yokai - Nure-Onna - How is Natsu going to handle her snake like form and find a way to bring her back to him in one piece?

"It… hurts… But it feels so good…" He was being crushed between Lucy's sizeable chest, wrapped up in a crushing hold by her tail… "Hold on! You… Your legs! What's wrong with your body?!" He freaked, catching sight of the scaly snake like tail that held a vice-like grip around his body, making it hard for him to breathe.

As he stared into her eyes, he could no longer see those beautiful big brown orbs that once held so much love and care for others, now they were slitted and golden, almost predatory and followed his every move. Her face held nothing of the Lucy that once was, only the monster that she had become—what those witches had turned her into. He squirmed, tried to wriggle free which only made her coil tighter, a sickening smile adorning her cheeks. She was enjoying his struggle.

"Dammit! How's she so strong?!" He grunted, trying his hardest to fight against her bone breaking grip.

The nure-onna chuckled lightly, bringing her face slowly closer to the man in her hold, "Natsu." She called, her voice taunting, laced with darkness. Natsu could do nothing but stare, sweat dripping down his face as the sexy, snake girls lips were practically on top of him, gliding smoothly over his skin. "I'm gonna eat you up." She growled, licking her lips, the heat of her mouth fanned across his, giving him goosebumps. She opened it further, allowing her slippery tongue to glide over his cheek, causing a gasp and yelp to escape him.

This wasn't like Lucy; she would never be so… snaky, "Hey! You gotta change back, Lucy!" He was desperate now; he didn't want to see any more of this.

"Could you not talk so loudly into my chest?" Her tail unravelled from around the boys body and stuck the end of it straight into his mouth and down his throat, choking him. Without warning, she grabbed him around the middle and threw his body up into the air, before slamming him down onto the ground.

"Aargh! Damn, Lucy, that hurt!" He grunted, straightening himself back up, balling his hands into fists, brows furrowing as if battling his own internal conflict.

"But I thought you said it felt good when it hurt?" She chuckled lowly, licking her lips once again as she circled the boy, waiting for the right moment to strike. "Maybe I'll show you just how much I'd like to hurt you!"

"This isn't like you! Snap out of it!" He raised his voice, like he was trying to call to the other Lucy—his Lucy. "I don't wanna have to fight you, but I will if I gotta…" He lowered his voice, adorning a battle stance as he challenged the Lucy looking monster before him.

"Bad choice, Natsu... Now, you're mine!" She launched forward before the boy could even see what was happening and shoved him down into the ground again, coiling the end of her tail around his neck and dragged him up into the air. She approached the gasping young man, another small laugh rumbling through her chest. "You look tasty." Using her strong appendage she brought him back to her face, an evil glint in her golden irises that told him she'd won this before it even began.

He felt trapped, he didn't want to fight her but also felt like he had no choice, if he waited much longer, he'd be a goner for sure. Whilst she was distracted, he lifted his fist to the top of her tail and raised the temperature in it. She gasped and looked down, a fiery hand sizzling her scales, enough to scare her off and retreat but not enough to burn her.

Natsu dropped to the floor, coughing and spluttering, trying to refill his lungs of lost breath. He managed to stand up once again, a pained expression with hands encased in fire, ready and waiting.

"I'm mad now snake-Lucy." He leapt at her, fist drawn back about to strike her head on when he stopped.

"Natsu! Stop! It's me!" Lucy held up her arms in front of her face, tears forming in the corners of her eyes, "Natsu!"

His own eyes widened. A moment of hesitation; a moment of hope.

Had she returned to him?

Giving her the opening she needed, she used the water to swirl around him, trapping him in her spell. She cackled, "You fell for it!" Slithering over to the boy, she forced him against the rock and used her newly found strength to hold him there, nearly breaking his back in the process. He groaned in pain. "What part should I devour first?"

Stuck in place, partially submerged under the water and unable to use his magic, he simply watched her ogle his body, using her hands to squeeze his muscular form, salivating by the feel of his muscles in her palms.

"Lucy… Please… I don't want to hurt you!" He grunted through the stinging of his skin scraping against the sharp rock behind him.

"Hurt me? Oh, Natsu... Do you not see yourself? With you as my opponent, I'd already won." She licked across his jaw and down to the scar on his neck, sucking on it harshly enough to bruise. "You're my prey and I'm going to savour every last inch of your hot body."

Sweat began beading across his face again, gritting his teeth through the discomfort of Lucy's mouth pulling and tugging on areas he hadn't known were so sensitive until now. In any other circumstance, this would have been quite the turn on. Nights had gone by where he'd dreamt of Lucy doing this to him, to feel her sweet mouth on his...

His eyes grew wide as an idea slowly formed in his head. That was it! The perfect way to win! To use her new found dominance against her. And he'd be lying if the thought wasn't a little exciting, even in her snake form. He just hoped she wouldn't remember when she finally returned to normal, for her own sake.

As she grazed over his nipple, a small hum of satisfaction rumbled through his chest, catching the snakes attention. "Hmm… You seem to like my touch." She said, gripping hold of the erect bud once again and twisting it this time. "How about that? You like that, too?"

He winced and hissed as she continued her sweet torture on his now sore nipple, but remained quiet nonetheless. As hard as it was not to moan from the pleasurable soreness, he needed to see if she'd take the bait and let down her guard.

Just as planned, the man eating serpent did just that. Pressing her mouth to the sore area and grazing it with her teeth. She eyed the boy above her, revelling in the contorted expressions he pulled, all the while becoming more and more distracted from her main goal—which he assumed was to devour him.

As he endured Lucy's heavenly mouth bite and suck his skin, Natsu held down his small victory as her grip began to slacken, giving him more and more freedom to move. Just as her tongue was about to lick over his lips, his teeth unexpectedly snapped at the wet muscle and bit down on it, causing her to yelp and jerk backwards, freeing him. He smirked, bringing his newly liberated hands up and encased the back of her head with them, holding her in place.

"You've had your fun, Snake-Lucy, but now it's my turn!" He growled, raising the temperature around them, slowly evaporating the water she'd created.

Hissing at the boy, the snake attempted to escape, yanking and pulling at his arms but his grip was unyielding. Stinging her scales with his heat, she struggled, not liking how the tables had turned in his favour.

"Natsu! It's burning! Natsu, please, you wouldn't hurt me, not your Lucy!" She screamed in a panic, writhing under the intense heat of his body.

He feigned sympathy, a worried look luring her into a false sense of security. He pulled her close, his hands cupping her clammy cheeks, "You think I'd fall for that again?" He smirked, brushing his lips up against hers.

He could hear the voice of one of Selene's minions, giving away just which of those bitches did this to Lucy, "Huh… I was sure she'd beat him! No matter, she was one of the weakest Yokai in my arsenal anyway."

"Weakest, you say?" Natsu may have been looking into Lucy's eyes as he spoke, but he was addressing the one he'd just made his next target, "If you knew Lucy, then you'd realise she's not weak."

"Of course she is! My Yokai would never humiliate me by losing!" Youko's voice was laced with disgust for the nure-onna she had created. "How pathetic!"

"Why you-"

"It seems it's true…" Lucy's voice cut through, a soft whimper as she stopped her struggle, her forlorn expression pulling at Natsu's heartstrings. It was the face of a girl who was giving up. Her eyes shone with the water droplets that were yet to fall, her irises flittering between golden and brown.

"Nothin' that thing says is true, Lucy, don't listen to her!" Natsu tried to make her see reason; to talk some sense into the girl who'd been turned into a monster.

"Even as a Yokai with all the magic power of Elentir, I'm still so weak." A lone tear fell from her eyes and Natsu knew with a little push, Lucy—human Lucy—just might come back to him. "Do what you must, I've no place as a human or Yokai…"

Natsu stared in shock; she was just going to except her fate? To give up? This wasn't like her—this wasn't her and there lay the problem. "Lucy, don't you dare give up, you're stronger than this… Than them up there. What they've done to you is unforgivable, and I'mma be sure to make 'em all pay, but first you gotta come back to me." In the deepest depths of those golden slits, he could see that his best friend was still in there trying to reach out to him. He knew she was, all she needed was that extra bit of encouragement.

"See! I told you, worthless! I should have just killed her and saved everyone the trouble." Youko laughed maniacally, spurring her comrades to cheer and laugh too.

"She's right, I'm just a burden not worth your time, just end this already, I'm tired of waiting." Snake-Lucy let more tears fall in her frustration, her thoughts conflicted and her heart in pieces.

"Fine, I'll end this." Natsu grabbed a hold of her cheeks and brought her face to his, welding their lips together in a fierce and heated embrace.

At first the nure-onna fought against it, but the longer he held on, the less she resisted until she all but melted into it, eventually responding to his inexperienced but determined ministrations. Their mouths danced in a steady rhythm with their tongues interloping, albeit, a little awkwardly.

Natsu fought to show just how much she mattered to him, to show her place in his heart and how deeply he cared for the Lucy that'd always been by his side. He loved her, there was no doubt about that and when they finally pulled apart, he looked deep into her eyes and smiled at what he saw. Those beautiful big brown orbs that shone with the love and care she had for everybody, even her enemies, had returned.

There she was—his Lucy—in all her two legged, naked, glory.

"But that's impossible! I turned her into a Yokai; how did she manage to change back so easily?!" Youko shouted, but neither Natsu nor Lucy took any notice, too entranced in each other.

"Natsu…" The blonde whispered, bringing her hand up to his face to caress his cheek, a small smile adorning her features, "Thank you."

And with that, her eyes closed shut; her body falling limp in his arms. Totally exhausted and her magic spent, the relieved slayer laid her on the ground, hidden from view trying to cover as much of her nakedness as possible. Once satisfied nothing would run into her whilst she slept, he stood back up, his eyes covered by his hair and spoke now directly to the women on top of the mountain.

"I hope you realise now, attacking my friends was a big mistake! Not only are they strong but we share a bond that'll never be broken by the likes of you." Natsu ignited his entire body, his eyes grew serious and angry.

Youko, still shocked by what'd just happened, felt a little fearful of the boy surrounded by flames; maybe they'd underestimated their opponents?

"I hope you're ready, 'cause I'm coming for ya and I won't stop until I see you all burn!"

#Nalu #fairy tail nalu #nalu fanfic #nalu fanfiction #Natsu and Lucy #natsu x lucy #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #natsu lucy #fairy tail #fairytail #fairy tail fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction writing #fairy tail 100 year quest #fairy tail 100 years quest

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ljblueteak · 3 years

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Throwing my hat into the “Why did Paul and Jane break up?” ring. There have been fantastic posts on this already, but looking at the McCartney bios by Sounes and Salewicz back-to-back has given me a slightly different perspective (this could all need to be tossed out if anything else about them comes to light/there’s other material I’m not aware of, which is more than possible, but here’s what I’ve got for now!)

The short version: I think they split up because of a lack of long-term compatibility that they both recognized as they got older. They also grew to prefer different lifestyles and possibly also had different ideas about whether/when to start trying to have children. By the time they split up, Paul had already realized, according to the joint interview with Jane described in Hunter Davies’ 1968 bio, that it was “silly” of him to have expected Jane to do what the other Beatles’ partners had done and give up her career after marriage (Paul describing his expectation as having been “silly” is in Davies 308-309. The observation that all the other women who had “married in to the band” had given up their careers because that was “expected by men of [the Beatles’ background]” is in Sounes 189). Jane having a career she wanted to continue after marriage seems to have been resolved as a possible impediment before the split. The Salewicz bio suggests that what *may* have been a factor was the question of children, with Jane not wanting them to interfere with her career. However, it’s not clear from that bio when this question came up for them--whether it was closer to the time of the split or whether it had been discussed and resolved prior to their engagement. I think these are the main reasons they split. I don’t think his many, many, many affairs helped at all, but I think the above reasons are the main ones.

Jane and Paul got together when they were quite young (Jane was 17 and Paul was 20) and their interests diverged in a few ways that really mattered as they got older. As the bios have suggested, Jane wasn’t really into rock ‘n’roll and really wasn’t into the drug scene. Paul was into both (understatement!). This likely contributed to the tension that people like Marianne Faithful witnessed between them. In addition to that, they both seemed to realize that they didn’t ultimately “click.” For bio excerpts and more, please see below!

In terms of not actually “clicking,”which would be enough reason to end a relationship on its own, imo, here’s what Jane Asher had to say (sourced from the amazing @thecoleopterawithana via @amoralto:

“No, it wasn’t love at first sight on my side. It was several months before I felt at all certain. And of course, I was young. Only seventeen. Inevitably, one changes. After all, Paul himself was only twenty when we met.

“I knew in my bones that the break must inevitably come a long time before it actually happened. Although we had this emotional thing for each other, we found it difficult to be really happy together....”

Jane Asher, interview w/ Godfrey Winn for The Australian Women’s Weekly: Girl with a broken love affair. (April 23rd, 1969)

And here’s Paul in Many Years From Now:

“During that period with Jane Asher I learned a lot and she introduced me to a lot of things, but I think inevitably when I moved to Cavendish Avenue, I realized that she and I weren’t really going to be the thing we’d always thought we might be. Once or twice we talked about getting married, and plans were afoot but I don’t know, something really made me nervous about the whole thing. It just never settled with me, and as that’s very important for me, things must feel comfortable for me, I think it’s a pretty good gauge if you’re lucky enough. You’re not always lucky enough, but if you can feel comfortable then there’s something very special about that feeling. I hadn’t quite managed to be able to get it with Jane....She was a very intelligent and interesting person, but I just never clicked. One of those indefinable things about love is some people you click with and some people who you should maybe click with, you don’t” (264, 452-453).

In addition to their own words, there are differing takes from observers about Paul and Jane’s compatibility and reasons for the split. Artists like Jann Howarth, who along with Peter Blake made the Sergeant Pepper art and had known the Beatles for “four years” before that observes in the Sounes bio that:

“I thought [Paul and Jane] were adorable together. She was wonderful. She was a very calm person and, in the middle of all this, you felt she was a wonderful balance for him, and you felt she was his equal for sure. It didn’t feel to me as though Paul was the big deal and she was trembling along behind, whereas you felt that a bit with Pattie Boyd and some of the other gals. I mean Cynthia was left standing still, basically, by John. Whereas you felt Jane was an absolute equal to Paul and had a very supple mind” (131).

Howarth sees them as “adorable” together and says that Jane’s “Paul’s equal for sure” and doesn’t suggest that this is a source of tension in any way.

Marianne Faithful, who frequently visited Cavendish with Mick Jagger, seems to imply in her autobiography that a major cause for the tensions she observed between Paul and Jane were related to Jane’s career aspirations and that Paul had wanted “an old-fashioned Liverpool wife,” which is what he got with Linda. However, I think it’s worth noting that while there had been tensions about Jane’s career, as detailed in the Davies bio (though Paul had also been really excited about and supportive of Jane’s career), Paul had already recognized that he had been being “silly.” Of course, there may have been continuing tensions related to it, but it sounds like Paul realized he’d been wrong on the whole. In addition to that, Marianne and Mick were part of the rock ‘n’ roll drug crowd Jane disapproved of, so these tensions between Paul and Jane that Faithfull observed may very well also have been related to Jane not being thrilled about more drug-using rock ‘n’rollers taking over her house.

Here’s the bit from Marianne Faithfull’s book via The Guardian:

Visits to Paul and Jane Asher weren't quite as relaxed. They were a bit uptight, and there were constant little frictions, but that's what happens when couples start to come apart. In any case, I was in a very different position from the one that Jane found herself in. I'd done what Paul wanted Jane to do, and given up my career. I wasn't going on tour with the Old Vic; I wasn't taking any more movie roles and very few parts in plays. Jane was a serious actress and wanted to continue her career, but Paul had other ideas. That's why Linda was so perfect for Paul; she was just what he wanted, an old-fashioned Liverpool wife who was devoted to her husband. Whatever we thought of Linda - and she didn't make that great an impression on me - I think it was a credit to Paul that he didn't marry a model. Because that's what all the others have ended up doing, they've married these models. And they have children who also become models.

The Guardian, 6 October 2007.

In his bio of Paul (which doesn’t directly address Faithfull’s comments), Sounes doesn’t suggest that the perception that Paul would be happy to be with someone who was prepared to let their own career take the backseat, at least for a time, is wrong (I do think it’s important to mention that in addition to her Wings career and solo/with Paul songwriting work, Linda also did work that didn’t involve Paul’s career at all down the line, like working on her cookbooks and frozen food line). But Sounes does say that it was much more than that that drew Paul and Linda together:

“Anything Paul wanted to do seemed possible with Linda, or Lin as he called her affectionately. She had bucket-loads of American confidence, which he liked. Both were relaxed and open about sex...Lin dug rock ‘n’ roll in a way Jane never had and unlike Jane, this American girl wasn’t uptight about drugs. Although a modern, liberated woman in some ways, Lin wasn’t a committed careerist. She was already tired of scratching a living as a rock ‘n’roll photographer, more than ready to settle down with a man who could look after her and Heather” Fab (215).

Paul was also ready to start a family. Indeed, John Lennon suggested that part of what drew Paul to Linda was the “ready-made family.” In the same interview where John pointed out that Linda could provide a “ready-made family,” he claimed that Jane was not ready for children: “If Jane was to have a career, then that’s not a cozy family, is it?” Chris Salewicz’s Paul bio also addresses this, saying:

“A source of considerable contention between Paul and Jane--perhaps the cause of those adverse remarks about the theatre to Joe Orton--was her insistence that having children would interfere with her acting career. Yet, now that Paul had everything he could possibly ever want, all that remained to fulfill his life was the presence of children, something he had always desired far more than the other Beatles” (199).

While we (or at least I!) don’t know whether Paul and Jane had discussed the issue of children before they got engaged, disagreements over whether or when to have kids contribute to a fair number of breakups to this day--and they had plenty of good reasons, from just not “clicking” in the right way to disagreements over drugs, to break up anyway.

#Paul McCartney #Jane Asher #Linda McCartney #Paul and Jane #Paul and Linda #long post #really really really long post #and I have thoughts about Linda being a traditional Liverpool wife too #but that was already too long #I just edited to mention all the cheating #and could have talked about it more #but I really don't think it was a primary factor #down to discuss though!

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blondebooklion · 3 years

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why it drives me crazy when people say c!ranboo has no morals but think c!wilbur and c!ranboo could still have potential to be narrative foils

morals:

loyalty to family/friends: in both his normal functioning and his enderwalk stage ranboo is incredibly defensive of his loved ones. this is 100% the center of his moral compass. he doesn't do certain things he fears will upset others (thus succumbing to peer pressure yes) but i deeply disagree with people argument that that is proof he has no moral backbone. particularly due to a couple of instances:

ranboo visiting tommy in exile: while not directly breaking the rules there was a general expectation, especially the people ranboo spent his time with, of not really visiting tommy. it wasnt really a set rule or anything but ranboo was definitely putting himself at risk by doing so.

protectiveness over michael: when sam and puffy showed up to prank ranboo, he was incredibly defensive over his son. he was ready to kill to protect his son if it came down to it.

rescuing tommy+tubbo: while we have it confirmed this instance was in their enderwalk stage, ranboo going both proves ranboos values in the enderwalk are the same (or i'd argue strengthened even) ranboo moved protectedly in front of tubbo when he and tommy had separated

forgiveness: he is willing to give people more than one chance, he is incredibly quick to judgements but for the most part he does not rely on other peoples opinions of each other to dictate the way he feels about them, he does take it into account in his overall image of them, but like with revivebur, he is willing to offer him a chance.

reciporcity to kindness: when people are kind to him, he is kind back. y'all let this slide as a moral with techno. it counts here. no im not counting it as necessarily loyalty because he is polite and kind even to those he isn't close to.

self-reliance: for better or worse ranboo does not think he needs other people to survive, in many instances he has displayed thinking he and everyone else would be better off if he were isolated. he does not want to depend too much in anyone, which can especially be seen in his desire for wealth. i think it has always been more about i dont have to rely on others, if things go south i can still survive (obviously part or it is needed something to do on stream, im applying other characteristics of ranboo to infer) but we can also see this in him retreating to himself (panic room, not telling anyone about his book being missing) when he is threatened because he believes the best way to handle it is himself

security: ranboo is incredibly driven bu his desire for safety and stability for both himself and for his loved ones. he thrives on consistency. he struggles the most when things begin to change.

difference between foil and antagonist (just for clarity cause some people have been switching up the definitions)

"an antagonist is a character who is in direct opposition to the protagonist. their actions deliberately hinder the protagonist from achieving her goal. this relationship helps build conflict and propels a story forward."

"a foil exists simply to shine the spotlight on certain traits of another character, without necessarily creating opposition or conflict."

credit: masterclass

the opposing traits/beliefs that i think will cause the most conflict between the two (ranboos will be written like this and wilburs like this to differentiate)

leader vs follower

probably the most obvious contention point, pointed out on 5/05 stream by wilbur pressing ranboo on what he stands for. wilbur wants to be in charge. but i think ranboo is how wilbur wanted people to value him. wilbur wanted to be the guy that everyone liked because he believed being liked comes with power. ranboo does not necessarily want to be well liked by everyone, but he wants to at least be neutral so he does do things in order to keep them on his side

conflict driven vs conflict averse

wilbur thrives on chaos and conflict, much like dream he is willing to manipulate situations. rqnboo does everything he possibly can to avoid it

cockiness vs insecurity

wilbur is obviously bold and arrogant. he thinks extremely highly of himself and the postions he does and could potentially hold. he is ruled by this factor and often does not think about the consquences of his rashly made decisions(thats not to say he isn't calculated or intelligent, he is, he just focuses on how things affect him rather than others)

means to an end vs no ulterior motives

all of ranboos bonds are strong because when he cares about people he does what he needs to to take care of them, they usually initiate out of instances of kindness, but he does not seem to expect anything in return. he cares about people because he loves them, nothing more nothing less. wilbur however while some of his relationships were initially based on care the motives became corrupted and its hard to say whether there are any relationships he has at this point that aren't ruled by some kind of benefit for him (my only guess for that would be phil)

similaries: paranoia, trust issues, secretiveness

ranboo and wilbur really are two sides of the same coin, yes they are opposites in a lot of aspects but despite the differences in their values orginate from the same place they jutted of in two completely different directions, they tried to solve the same issue in vastly different ways. ranboos paranoia was attempted to be solved by isolationism, while wilburs mainly tried to solve it through manipulation. ranboo pushed people away and wil tried to force them to be around. both backfired for them and caused them to retreat further into the paranoid states demonstrated by wilbur blowing up l'manburg and ranboo catastrophizing with hearing dreams voice.

I think wilbur's main contenion with ranboo resides in wilbur thinking ranboo glazes through life easily, and that they disagree on what morals means. being more confrontational does not mean you are more or less moral than another person. wilbur does not understand that differing morals does not equal none at all.

I don't think their relationship is going to act as an antagonist because while ranboo is actively keeping an eye on wilbur it wouldn't really make sense for ranboo to suddenly be more confrontational. I know a lot of people are citing the Burr vs Hamilton relationship as parallels in their dynamicI want to remind you that narrative foils are not conflicting in nature. conflict can happen. but the point of them is to highlight the differences in character traits.

likening to burr vs hamilton

burr wanted power but he wanted it to come to him vs hamilton wanting power and actively chasing it

yes this makes sense for wilbur, but it doesnt for ranboo. ranboo doesn't want power. he never has. the reason burr waits on the sidelinesnis cause he is waiting for the chance to act, but ranboo is not waiting for something to happen, in fact he would rather have the exact opposite, for things to be as uneventful as possible.

"Hamilton’s success at the expense of his personal life is countered by Burr’s relative lack of success and his happy family life. Both of these are directly due to the two’s differing goals and approaches to life. Burr and Hamilton are two side of the same coin, opposite results with the same starting conditions."

source

this is exactly what I referenced earlier between the two. ranboo cares about family, wilbur about career. while a lot of their behavior originated from a similar place, their paths rapidly diverged.

hamilton's downfall at burr's hand

i'm gonna be honest i find it extremely hard to believe that a situation will exist where wilbur waits and ranboo acts. however, if one does i still firmly believe it will be revolving around (likely in defense of) the people ranboo loves and cares about, specifically michael, tommy, tubbo. it would be where he is cementing his views of choosing people. but wilbur being hesitant is still difficult for me to think of a scenario on which he would that hesitant? for it to be his downfall?

important to note: ghostbur did also akin ranboo to burr so it is definitely possible that this dynamic is going to countinue to playout in the future

I will shut up now thank you for reading. reminder that this is just my interpretation and analysis, obviously looking at different details could lead to different conclusions. i'm super willing to discuss as long as we are both going to be respectful of each others opinions and courteous <3

#ranboo #wilbur soot #revivebur #long post #also let me know if i need to tw anything else #tw paranoia #tw anxiety #tw death mention

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clonecaptains · 4 years

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SHOW ME THE STARS - a poe dameron x f!reader fic

rating: m - for some smut, but this is like 95% fluff

word count: 16k

summary: you’re a mechanic that just got a new assignment - working on your crush poe dameron’s ship.

a/n: this is completely canon divergent. it’s very loosely following the story line of the films so just toss out what you know of canon reading this!! i want to give a huge shout out to @pascalispedro for listening to me blab about this fic and the support, and to @damndamer0n for all your poe advice!!! this is one of the longest fics i’ve written and i worked so hard!! this is my first poe fic ever so feedback would be much appreciated!! thank you!!

Show Me the Stars

You’re scared to fly. You prefer your feet to be on the ground. That’s the natural order of things. There’s never been a time where you’ve been on a ship where you weren’t apprehensive or scared. You thought maybe it would help if you understood more about how things worked with flying, but when that didn’t click for you, the next step was learning about the machines themselves. So that’s what you do. You know just about everything there is to know about how ships work, but you have no desire to fly one on your own, and you still don’t like being out in space.

As a kid, this wasn’t much of an issue. You stayed grounded. But when the First Order came in and took your family from you, you joined the Resistance. Offering your services as a mechanic and maintenance worker.

Your job has its challenges, but there are days when it’s rather easy. Luckily a good portion of the pilots know as much if not more than you, and they take good care of their equipment. Some days your job is as simple as giving the ships a once over and maybe cleaning up some of the carbon scoring that’s gunked up.

You work with a team, and you’ve just been given a new assignment. The war is ending. At first it seems strange to get a new assignment so close to the end, but it’s an assignment you’ve been wanting for a long time.

Your group has been assigned to the X-Wing squadron. When you were given these orders, you felt your stomach drop and your heart leap at the same time.

That’s where he is.

Poe Dameron.

The absolute love of your life that you’ve spoken to maybe twice in your time with the Resistance.

He has a reputation of being a playboy, but that’s not something you’ve ever paid much attention to. All you see in him is the warmth of his smile. The passion in his eyes. You’ve heard him when he gets riled up about something, he cares so much about the Resistance. He won’t back down.

You’ve also noticed his wonderful curls, and the dark stubble covered jaw. The way his smile catches in the sunlight. His thick thighs and you blush when you catch yourself staring at his ass.

You know most people are in love with him. You’re one in a crowd. And despite his reputation, you’ve never actually seen what people are talking about? Maybe you’re just not around him enough to see the lovers he takes, but maybe you’ll get that chance to see, or to be one.

You know you don’t want to just be a notch in his belt, another lover that passes by to someone new. But you’re not ready to see him flirt with other members of your team.

You’re getting ahead of yourself. You’ve only just been given this assignment.

You are to report to the X-Wing hanger of the base first thing in the morning. This is guaranteed a chance to see Poe on a more regular basis, that’s one thing that’s certain. Whether or not you’ll talk to him is another story.

“What are you thinking about over there Ms. Deep in Thought?” your roommate, Corelle’s voice interrupts your thinking. You’ve been lying on your bed looking up at the ceiling for too long.

“Oh, nothing,” you laugh sheepishly, sitting up. You sit up too fast and the blood goes to your head, you feel a slight twinge of a headache. That’s not what you need right now.

“I know that look,” Corelle laughs. “When are you gonna tell me who he is?”

You bite your lower lip. Corelle has the biggest mouth on this base. She’s a wonderful friend, but you cannot tell her about your crush on Poe. Or she’ll tell him for you.

Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad idea, but if he doesn’t like you back then it would be embarrassing.

“I won’t tell!” you laugh brushing her off. You know she means no harm, but you’ve gotten good at avoiding her questions. You’d played all the games; she’s named everyone on this base. But since you were laughing the whole time anyways, you were able to play off when she asked if it was Poe. That was ages ago now. You’re in it deeper than you were then. If she asked again you might not be able to hide it.

You haven’t felt like this since you were a young girl with a crush back on your home world, before all this began.

“Seriously, though what’s wrong?” she asks. “You look stressed.”

“Well you know we got that new assignment?” you’re choosing your words carefully.

“Is he gonna be there?” she sits up on her bed asking excitedly.

“I didn’t say that!” you laugh, feeling flustered. This is too close to comfort. “It’s just jitters I think before a new job. There’s talk the war is almost over and I don’t want to mess this up so close to the end.”

“He’s there. And I’m gonna find out who he is,” she points and smiles. You roll your eyes and flop back down on your bed to hide under your covers.

“I’ll never tell,” you laugh.

“Hey,” she says, her voice serious. “I understand the jitters. It’ll be fine. Hopefully this will all be over soon, and you can settle down with this mystery man.”

You’re not lying, it is jitters for working in a new part of the base. Every piece of the puzzle in the Resistance is important for the cause. You don’t want to be a reason for any losses. Not now, so close to the end.

Those jitters keep you up most of the night. You lay awake staring at the ceiling. Your roommate sound asleep, not a care in the world. You admire her strength, she’d say the same about you, but you don’t feel strong right now.

Your previous assignment was a part of the Y-Wing squadron. Each mechanic was assigned to a group of Y-Wings. You know how this works. You pray to be assigned to Poe’s ship; you just have to be assigned to him! You got to be close with the pilots in the Y-Wing squadron. There’s not as many of them now. That’s why you’re being transferred to the X-Wings. Which is another thing on your mind. No one prepared you for the grief that would come with losing pilots, your friends. You’re not a solider. You joined the cause to fight back for what you lost, who you lost. You didn’t think about losing anyone else. And that thought haunts you. Poe is the best pilot out there, he’s brave. Maybe too brave. He gets himself in dangerous situations, and you worry about him. He’s not yours to worry about, but you worry about them all every time they go up.

You hate flying.

But it certainly won’t stop you from doing your job and making sure those who fly are safe. You’re known among your team to take the longest to do routine checks. Everything needs to run right so the pilot can be as safe as possible.

Luckily for you, your attention to detail and care for ships gets you what you want.

That morning in the main hangar, your team leader is handing out assignments. He calls your last name, and simply says, “You get Dameron,” and he points over in the direction of Poe’s black X-Wing.

You try not to react in front of your team, you just nod and say, “Yes, sir.” But inside your blood is pounding and your ears are ringing. You’re exhausted from your lack of sleep, and now you feel dizzy with excitement over this assignment. You smile inwardly at hearing some buzz through the team when Poe’s ship is assigned to you. But with it comes a weight, you know you have a job to do and it’s not one you take lightly. Poe is the best, and he deserves the best from you, and that’s what you’re gonna give.

And just hope he notices you in the process. Is that so wrong?

When the team disperses, you head straight for Poe’s X-Wing. It feels like an extension of him, and there’s almost a thrill when you approach. You place a hand on the cool metal with reverence. You don’t know how someone could willingly get inside this thing. Never mind being shot at. And you see blaster marks covering this ship. Scarring on an old worn machine. Some are old, some are new.

You begin to familiarize yourself with the ship and the equipment. Structurally it’s different than the Y-Wings, but it’s similar enough you can figure it out. You would like to talk to Poe about his ship though and get any specifics you need to know.

From the looks of things, he keeps things tidy. Other than the blaster burns and some carbon scoring from a recent flight, it’s clean. All that’s left for you to do is tighten some bolts and scrub out some of carbon scoring.

Your work for the day is pretty much done, but you haven’t seen Poe yet. Looking around you’ve seen most of the other pilots’ trickle in and checking things over. When there’s not a battle going on, it’s always encouraged to act as though one could happen any moment. Maintenance and routine checks are common. Keeps people busy during the in between moments.

Since Poe is nowhere to be found, you’re making yourself at home on his X-Wing. You’re on top of it now, cleaning the window. From your perch, you can see when he walks in. Your stomach drops and your heart starts to pound in your ears. What do you do? Do you just keep scrubbing and act cool? Or should you get down to greet him??

Instead you do none of those things and freeze, staring at him as he walks in the main hanger door. BB-8 is rolling along at his heels. Poe has an easy smile on his face, and he waves a greeting at some fellow pilots he passes. As he gets closer, he sees you, and you make quick to get back to work. You don’t want to look like you were staring.

“Hey!” you hear a voice call down to you. He’s talking to you, you’re panicking.

You lean over a little to see him standing on the ground below. His brows are knitted together, but he’s not angry.

“You didn’t have to do that!” he points up to you cleaning the window. BB-8 beeps beside him. Poe looks down and says something, but you don’t catch it. You’re focusing on climbing down and not falling on your face.

You manage to hop down the ladder with relative ease, even though he was watching. You inwardly groan because this jumpsuit of yours is not exactly flattering.

When you finally are face to face with him, it’s like a gut punch. His eyes are so big and gentle. His curls are a wonderful mess. You have to speak before he suspects something.

“It’s my job,” you tell him, “to clean the windows. And do maintenance.” You slap the rag over your shoulder, and in the process, water drops fling from it and land on his face, and the rag hits your shoulder with a loud wet slop. This is not going well. “I’m so sorry!” you gasp watching him blink rapidly from the shock of water in his eye. You can feel your face get hot, but he only smiles, a little chuckle escapes his lips.

“It’s just water,” he shrugs and wipes his face dry with his sleeve. “Thank you,” he says then, “for cleaning the window.” Then he says your name, which you weren’t sure if he even remembered. “That is your name, right?” he winces afraid to be wrong.

“Yeah,” you smile, “it is.”

“I’m Poe,” he sticks out his hand and you shake it even though your hands are wet and greasy.

“I know,” you smile back. “I’m your new mechanic. I’ve been assigned to help you work maintenance on your ship.”

He nods a quick nod; he’s listening while he reaches for the ladder to climb in the cockpit. He doesn’t seem to notice that his hand is now covered in some black grease.

“I’m glad to have the help!” he calls down to you. “I know my ship, but I’m not a great mechanic. There’s always more to learn.” You watch him nervously as he inspects his ship. “Wow, these windows look fantastic!” he calls down to you. “What else did you do??” he leans over the edge of the cockpit, looking down at you. You smile when you see his smile in your direction. He runs a hand through his curls, grinning.

You tell him, and then ask him some more detailed questions about the ship. For being this hotshot pilot, everyone talks about - he’s very gracious about your helping him. He even apologizes for arriving late and not helping you with some of the work himself.

That night you go back to your room with a smile on your face that you couldn’t hide if you tried.

“So,” Corelle grins, seeing you walk in. “I should’ve known it was Poe.” She shakes her head, but she’s smiling.

“It’s not- I didn’t-” you start but she stops you by holding her hand up.

“Don’t deny it, I saw you today at his X-Wing. You were positively glowing.”

“That bad?” you whine and flop down on your bed. You realize now how exhausted you are from the day. You got very little sleep last night, and today with all the Poe excitement, you’re beat.

“Ohh yeah,” she laughs. “But I wouldn’t call it bad? It was sweet. He was responding to you. I saw his smile too.”

“Yeah?” you ask lifting your head up from your bed to look her way. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you? He smiles at everyone.”

“Not like he did at you today,” she says in a singsong voice. “I saw the way he raked his hand through those beautiful curls! And how lucky are you that you got assigned to his ship huh?? Destiny wants you together.”

“Promise me that you won’t say anything, please?”

“Don’t worry!”

From anyone else, that would do little to ease worry, but from her, you know you’re safe. She’s not who you have to worry about now, it’s yourself. You’re not even sure what to do now.

There’s no time for love in this fight.

“What did you say?”

“There isn’t time for love in this fight,” you sigh. “What chance do I have here?”

“Stop right there. You’re wrong. This is exactly the time for love. That’s what we’re fighting for isn’t it? We all need something good, a reason to fight for. If you’re worried about him being too reckless up there, give him a reason to want to come back home.”

“Well then what do I do?”

“You have to tell him.”

You don’t tell him. You like things the way they are. You like greeting him in the mornings and helping him with the ship. You like hearing him tell stories and making you laugh. You like the way his dimples pop when he laughs at BB-8. He’s nice to you, warm. You don’t want to lose it.

You like this attention.

“Yes, but it could be better,” you can hear Corelle say. “You like the attention but you’re not happy.”

And you hate to admit that she’s right. You’re full of an ache. He’s not yours. Yes, you have formed quite a friendship. You even have a couple inside jokes, and he smiles at you from across the room. But you’re not his.

When he touches your arm or your shoulder, your insides quiver. When he gives you a little wink, you feel a rush of warmth to you face.

But when you’ve seen him flirt with others, you feel a pang of jealousy. You go back to your room and your roommate has to console your aching heart.

“Promise me you’ll say something the next time you see him. You’ve been like this for weeks now. When will you see him again?”

“Tomorrow.”

He’s going on a recon mission. He’d been chosen because of his stealth flying skills. In and out is what he said.

You ran diagnostics most of the day, making sure the tank was full of fuel and every little nut and bolt is screwed down tight. Everything is clean and ready. You’re there early before he is, giving everything a once over just to be sure.

“There she is!” you hear Poe’s voice loud and clear through the hanger. Of course, he’s a morning person. “Everything ready to go?”

You turn to see him in his orange flight suit, black helmet in his hand. BB-8 is close behind.

“All ready! Are you ready?” you ask him. He puts on his helmet and gives you a confident nod, he scrunches his nose up with the smile he gives. He starts to climb the ladder into the cockpit, but you stop him. “Poe?”

His head whips around at the sound of concern in your voice.

“Be careful?”

He gives a little wink in response and calls down, “I will!”

And before you know it, he’s off. All you can do now is stand back and watch the ship roar to life and take off. Your eyes follow it up into the sky as best you can, and soon he’s nothing more than a twinkle disappearing into the far reaches of space.

Thanks to lightspeed, if everything goes well, he’ll be back in a couple hours. So, you busy yourself with other work in the meantime. For now, that’s making sure everything is ready for his return.

You’re working up a sweat moving around making sure everything is perfect. Your nerves have your stomach in knots, you don’t even realize how hungry you are.

“Take a break,” your supervisor calls in your direction, “I wouldn’t worry about him. He’s the best pilot there is.”

For a beat you think, does your supervisor know about your crush?

“I know you’ve lost pilots before, none of it was your fault. You’re the best at what you do. That’s why we put you with Dameron. Go get something to eat.”

You nod, wiping your greasy hands on your jumpsuit. Food would be good, something to settle your stomach.

It’s not regular eating hours, but the cantina still has people getting meals. Not everyone gets to keep normal hours under these circumstances.

Feeling hungry now, you don’t care what it is you eat. You just go for the first meal option and take your seat.

It’s not til you take a bite do you remember this was a meal you’d shared with Poe before. It was a couple weeks back, and you’d been working hard on the ship. There was a part of the wing that wasn’t working the way it should. It was a tedious task and the two of you spent most of the day working on it. Really it was just Poe handing you tools and holding things steady for you and asking questions of what it was exactly you were doing so he could learn.

At one point he’d taken a break to get you both food, and he brought it back to you. You’d shared the meal together while sitting on top of the X-Wing.

“I’m sorry this tastes terrible,” he had laughed, “I just grabbed the first thing I saw.”

“I didn’t want to say anything but no this isn’t good,” you had laughed back.

You’ll never forget his smile after you laughed. But somehow you forgot this food didn’t taste good and you got it again, but the memory was sweet enough to compensate.

You finish the meal quickly, not wanting to miss him coming back. You can tell pilots from the mission are returning, because you see a group of people heading in the direction of the main hangar. Taking that as your cue, you toss your trash and exit the cantina.

You spot Poe’s X-Wing in the hangar right away, and relief washes over you. He’s safe. From a distance, you can see him climbing out of the ship. You can see him looking around, he’s looking for someone. Other pilots pass him by and give him a pat on the back, he smiles politely, but then that look of concern is back on his brow while he’s scanning the crowd.

He’s looking for you.

You only know because when he makes eye contact with you, his face lights up, and he starts to jog in your direction. He calls your name and pulls you into his arms for a massive hug. It’s so sudden it jostles you. His vest is pressing hard into your chest and he smears sweat from his face onto your cheek. His arms squeeze you so tight it almost hurts, but this is the best moment of your life, what is pain??

Burying your face in the crook of his neck, you breathe deeply. His flight suit is bunching up in your fists as you squeeze him back.

“You really are my good luck charm,” he says pulling away, smile still on his face. “I don’t know what it is that you’ve done but she flies better than she has in a long time.”

“It’s just a machine,” you shrug, “I think it has everything to do with the pilot.” You lightly bump his chest with your fist. “I’m glad you’re back safe.”

You don’t know at the time, but what you said hit Poe in the gut like a speeder crashing into a wall.

“I think it has everything to do with you,” his voice is quiet, uncharacteristically so. He holds your gaze for a moment.

“I’m happy to help!” you reply, not sure what he’s talking about. He blinks rapidly when you speak, as if you just pulled him out of a deep thought.

“I have to go to a debriefing, but later there’s something we need to fix,” he nods his head towards the ship. You nod in agreement. You’ve gotten more comfortable around him, but your insides still jump at the thought of getting to be with him again. And your head is still reeling from that hug.

Right now, there is nothing for you to do until he gets done. It will have to be later, because the ship is too hot to work on. You can already see some places that need to be patched up. No matter how good a pilot he is, small debris can cause big damage.

“Just come find me when you’re done!” you tell him.

Heading back to your room, a friend passes by with a smile. It’s a knowing smile that stops you in your tracks. She tugs on your sleeve of your work jumpsuit.

“What did you say to him?” she asks with a whisper.

“What?” you’re confused, “Nothing out of the ordinary? Why?”

“He gave you the look as you were walking away.”

“What look?” you feel your face heating up, and your voice shakes a little.

“He wanted you to turn around and look at him,” she pats you on the back and walks on by. Your knees feel weak and you feel lightheaded. Pilots and mechanics and all sorts of people are bustling past you, celebrating the success over the mission and getting ready for the next one. Your feet are frozen to the ground, as your friend walks on by.

You turn around, but Poe is already gone. Headed towards the command center to give his debriefing of the information during his recon flight.

The walk back to your quarters has your mind replaying the hug over and over. His sweat has dried now on your cheek, but it’s a memory you’ll cling to forever. He wanted to see you; he was looking for you. You haven’t been hugged like that in a long time. Now you know what it feels like to be in his arms, if not for just a brief moment in time.

Reaching your room, you punch in the keycode on the door and it opens with a hiss. Much to your disappointment, Corelle isn’t in. You have so much to tell her, but you guess it can wait.

You feel an anxious energy, you wish you had something to occupy your mind. On base, there is always something to be done. Therefore, people’s quarters are relatively bare. Some clothes and essentials and a bed. That’s all you need. If something happens, you have to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

With a sigh you sit on your bed, propping your leg up on your knee, you start to untie your boot when you hear a gentle knock on the door.

“Corelle,” you laugh, “the code number never changes!” you get up and push the door open expecting your roommate. Only to be greeted with your favorite pair of brown eyes in the galaxy.

“Hi.”

“Hi!” you answer back, a little surprised to see his face.

“You ready to go? I can come back?” he jerks his thumb over his shoulder.

“No, no! I’m ready just give me one second!” Walking back over to your bed you sit down to retie your boot while trying to remain calm that Poe Dameron is standing in your room. “Did the briefing go ok?” you ask trying to make conversation.

“General wants me to go back tomorrow. First thing.”

“Go back?” you ask standing up. No, no. “You just got back!”

“Today was recon. Tomorrow is a course of action. It’s simple enough.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“It’s always dangerous,” he shrugs with one shoulder. There’s a glint in his eye, he seems to like the thrill. “You ready?”

“Ready,” you nod and follow him out of your room. As you’re leaving, Corelle walks by and gives you a look. You shake your head ‘no’ signaling her not to do anything.

“Who’s that?” Poe asks after you’re out of earshot.

“My roommate,” you huff out a laugh. “Seriously Poe, should I be worried about you?”

“About me and your roommate?” he’s teasing, “nah. She’s not my type.”

“Poe, I mean it.”

“So do I,” he shrugs again.

“Poe!” you grab his arm and stop him in the hall. “I’m serious. How dangerous is this? I can’t- “

“Can’t what?” his hand reaches for your hand on his sleeve. The touch of his skin is warm.

“I can’t lose another one, I just can’t. Not you.” A small tear falls down your cheek, and with a gentle finger he sweeps it away.

“You’re not going to lose me.”

By now you’ve reached the hangar, and the ship has cooled enough to work on it. Immediately can see a hole on one of the wings. It’s an easy fix but you’ll have to rewire some things.

“That’s why I need you,” he points to the hole. “I don’t know how to rewire that. I’m here to help however you need.”

“I’ll need BB-8 to help me on this one. And some caf. Lots of caf.”

Poe nods and whistles. You hear BB-8 beep and roll in your direction.

“You help her, ok? Do whatever she says. I’ll be right back.”

BB-8 looks from Poe to you, then rolls up towards you. BB-8 makes a little beep, and you assume that means it’s alright. You grab your tools and BB-8 shines a light on the hole so you both can see the damage.

Poe comes back from the cantina with two metal cups of caf in his hands.

“It’s not very hot I’m afraid,” he says handing you a cup. Your fingers touch his and the warmth from his skin will always send shivers down your spine.

“It’s alright, I just need the caffeine.”

Poe takes a sip of his, and he frowns in distaste. He likes it hot. He smacks his lips and without a word, he holds the caf cup over to BB-8. To which then BB-8 sticks out an arm with a little flame on the it under Poe’s cup. You smile to see them so in sync. At the same time the flame extinguishes, and Poe brings the mug back to his lips. That’s not the first time they have done that.

“I could never do what you do,” Poe remarks leaning against the wing. He sips his caf watching you and BB-8 reconnect and meld wires together. “I know a little, just enough to get by. But not like that.” He motions towards the hole.

“It just takes practice. I could never do what you do,” you mimic him and nod your head in the direction of the ship’s cabin.

“Takes practice for that too. I grew up flying with my mom. I think I was 6 years old when I started learning?”

“So, you weren’t ever scared?” you put down the tool and lift your safety goggles to look at him.

“If I was, I don’t remember. But I’ll tell you a secret, I’m always a little scared before I go up.”

“Every time?”

“Every time,” he nods.

“That’s why I don’t want to fly. I’m too scared,” you admit. “I prefer to be on the ground.”

“Don’t you want to see the stars?” he asks, leaning forward a little. There’s no scoff in his tone, he isn’t bothered you don’t like to fly. “I’d like to show you the stars sometime.”

“I don’t mind looking from here,” you blush, his flirting is becoming a little more direct. Is this really happening?

“You know, you’d be in good hands. I’ll take care of you,” he sips his caf again. Is he talking about actual flight or something else?

“Are you making fun of me?” you laugh.

“I’m not I swear!” he laughs back. “If you want me to take you up there sometime, I’d be happy to that’s all. I could ease some of that fear you carry.”

“Ok,” you let out a shuddery breath, “when you come back from this next mission, I’ll let you take me up.”

His grin starts small and grows wide. “Alright!”

You shake your head with a laugh and put your goggles back on. You’re attaching the last wire when it shocks your fingertip. You hiss and pull your hand back and examine it. There’s a big red welp on the tip of your pointer finger. It stings. Wincing, you shake your hand, but then pull it back to your body to put pressure on it.

“Here,” Poe puts down his cup. “Let me see.”

You wince again sticking your hand out to his. He gingerly takes your hand in his and rubs his thumb over the welp.

“Ow!” you jerk back, but he only tightens his grip. His skin is so smooth, and you want to be mad at him, but you can’t because he’s holding your hand.

“Sorry,” he whispers back. He’s looking intently at your fingertip; his lashes look so beautiful, and you see a long crease run up the length of his forehead. Then in an unexpected move, he brings your hand to his mouth and he closes his lips around your finger. He soothes the burn with his tongue and the way he’s looking at you sends a jolt to your belly.

He pulls your finger from his lips with a slight pop, and you’re completely stunned. His grin is slight, but devilish.

“I want you down here tomorrow before we leave. I need to see my good luck charm before I go,” there’s that smile again. One hand is still holding your injured one, his spit is beginning to dry in the cool night air on your finger. His other hand reaches up and tucks a fallen lock of hair back behind your ear. If you didn’t know any better, he was about to kiss you. You teeter backwards when you feel his thumb press on your pulse point on your wrist, and you bump your caf cup onto the floor. It falls with a loud clang, and the caf gets everywhere.

You pull from his grasp, the caf cup offering you an out. Not that you want to be out of his touch, but the way he’s looking at you is making your head spin. Surely your face must be on fire and he can see that he sparked the flame. His gaze is only further stoking the fire.

The caffeine and the adrenaline in your system has your head spinning and you barely remember the walk back to your room.

He’d casually winked and gave you a goodnight, acting as though he didn’t just suck on your finger and give you ideas of where else you’d like to feel his mouth.

“He’s just nervous before the mission tomorrow,” you tell Corelle. You’re still in shock, that has to be it right? He’s just nervous because he said he got nervous to fly and maybe he just flirts when he’s nervous? Right?

“Whoa,” Corelle laughs, “calm down!”

“I can’t calm down,” you sigh, pacing the floor of your small shared room.

“He obviously likes you. I mean come on, it’s right there plain as day! You have to tell him how you feel tomorrow.”

“Is this really happening?”

“He might be nervous before the mission, but did you ever think he’s trying to tell you how he feels before he leaves?”

“He sure has a funny way of doing it,” you flush, your finger still burns – not from the actual burn, but the burn from his lips.

“You’re not doing any better! Just go up to him and give him a big wet kiss before he leaves.”

“Oh, I am not doing that!”

“Why not? It’ll send the message loud and clear!”

“That’s not exactly how I want my first kiss to go…” you admit.

“It’s the perfect time- wait you mean your first one ever?” she asks. You shrug, you’re embarrassed. “Well then that’s absolutely the perfect time!!”

You bury your face in your hands with a sigh. This is not happening.

It’s another night of little sleep. Most of it’s due to caffeine, it’s been an exciting and overwhelming day to say the least.

When your eyes open in the morning, anxiety is pulling at your mind. Your stomach turns and your hands feel clammy. All throughout the night when you should’ve been asleep, you thought about what you’d like to say to him. You’re not sure you’ll have the guts to. You went over and over the argument in your mind, that he’s risking his life for the cause, and you can barely get out a few simple words.

The hallways to the hangar are already bustling this early. They all have a job to do. Your pulse is pounding in your ears, the energy is high on days like today, multiple emotions fill everyone’s minds. You have an added stress and you don’t know what to do about it. Well, you know what to do, but you’re afraid to do it.

You’re early, earlier than Poe. You assume he’s getting his orders; you don’t see any other pilots around yet in the hangar either.

You feel like you’re going to be sick, a cold sweat makes your skin feel clammy. You jump sky high when Corelle comes up behind you.

“Well??” she asks.

“Well what?” you shake your head and try to calm yourself down. You run your diagnostics while she follows you around. You already double checked everything last night, so this morning is just to run through one more time.

“Did you tell him???”

“No, he’s not even here yet. And what am I supposed to say? ‘Hi Poe, I’m in love with you! Be safe on your mission!’”

No sooner had the words left your lips did you hear the familiar rolling sound of BB-8. You glance down in horror to see the droid, he turns his little head, he obviously heard you.

“BB-8, please don’t- “you panic.

“’BB-8 please don’t’ what?” you hear Poe’s voice clear through all the chaos.

“Don’t- let anything happen to you!” you manage to get out. BB-8 beeps up at Poe, you don’t understand what the droid says. Poe’s eyebrows crease, he only nods at his droid companion.

“I’ll be fine,” he touches your arm. “Everything looking good?”

“You’re all ready to go!” you give him the confirmation. With that he starts to climb up the ladder to the cockpit. Your heart is beating so loud in your ears, you gotta tell him now. You could tell him when he comes back, but what if he doesn’t come back? “Poe, I-“ you have to yell now because the engines are powering up, and it’s loud. “Be careful!” you shout, and he gives you a little salute before the hatch slides closed.

It was all so loud, then comes the quiet after the ships all make the jump to lightspeed. There’s ringing in your ears from regret in the deafening silence. Tears begin to fall, and you cover your face with your hand.

“What’s wrong?” you hear a kind voice behind you. You sniffle and turn to see General Organa standing behind you, she places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You swallow, trying to collect yourself. You’ve only spoken with her a few times, it’s always an honor.

“I’m in love with him,” your voice breaks. “And I didn’t even get to tell him. I had every opportunity.”

“He knows,” she pats your back with a smile, she speaks from experience. “I saw the way he looked at you. I know him well, and I know that look.”

You sniffle again, hoping she’s right.

“He’s also told me a lot about you. Says you’re the best mechanic he’s ever seen.”

“He told you about me?” your cheeks warm and she chuckles softly.

“You’ll have your hands full with that one, but he’s a good man. One of the best.” She knows more than she says, but you can tell from her tone that he cares for you too.

“How do you love someone who risks his life? Did you not worry?”

“I always worried. You must know why he’s in this fight. What he’s fighting for.”

Feeling comforted by her words, you thank her and take your leave. Going to the cantina, you meet up with other mechanics and others who must wait now for the pilots and ground fighters to return. There’s light chit-chat throughout the cantina, some people find it easier to talk and laugh to push past their obvious nerves. It’s a strange feeling, knowing you’re in the fight but you’re here, not out there doing it. You have no control over what happens, but you’ve done the best you can, and your role is still important.

You think back to when you first met Poe officially. It felt like ages ago when you were a new recruit. Your emotions still raw from losing your family to the First Order. You were among an early group in the Resistance. Poe and General Organa were there to greet everyone. You remember shaking Poe’s hand, and from then on, your crush had blossomed.

It seems like a lifetime ago, when you were just meeting him. Now you’re almost on the verge of tears again at the thought of losing him.

The rest of the day and the next are agony. Waiting for him and everyone to come back, just hoping everyone is safe – and knowing not everyone will return home.

Since your job is mechanics and maintenance, you’re not involved with a lot of the intel being shared. You only hear through others what’s going on. Normally you don’t particularly care, you have your job and that’s that. But right now, you’d do anything to know what’s going on and if Poe is safe. If this mission is as dangerous as you’ve heard, you want your anxieties eased.

The command center is in contact with the pilots, but you don’t have the clearance to go in. And your reasons are personal, not professional.

It’s been a few days now, and you find yourself in the cantina often. It’s the best place to glean information. Poe’s name has come up a few times, which you’ll take – it’s an indication he’s alive.

From what you’ve gathered, they will be returning to base this afternoon.

The last few days have gone by so slowly, especially with nothing to do. Then that afternoon comes, and things seem more accelerated. X-Wing and Y-Wing squadrons come in, then the ground troop transports. It’s an obvious victory because everyone is celebrating.

But in the chaos, you still haven’t seen Poe. You don’t see his X-Wing anywhere in the hangar. There’s a considerable number of them gone, killed in action. You feel tears prick up in your eyes, where is he?? There’s cheering and laughing all around you, but you won’t join in until you find him.

Through the hangar you can see outside the base, and several ships have landed there. Through the crowd of people and ships, you can see the familiar orange painted X-Wing you know like the back of your hand.

Running outside, you can see Poe climbing out of the ship down the ladder. Tears fall down your cheeks freely now, he’s back. You haven’t missed your chance.

He’s still a bit of a distance away, but through the crowd he sees you. His smile splits his face and he takes off in a run towards you. The tears keep falling and your vision is blurry, but it’s enough to see him run to you.

When he reaches you, he cups your face in his hands and kisses you deeply. One hand holds your face, then he wraps his other arm around cupping the back of your head. His chest his heaving as his lips move with yours. You’re still crying hugging him to you. Your fingers weave into his sweaty curls and he pulls back for air.

“Hi,” he whispers, chest still heaving.

“Hi,” you sniffle, still running your fingers through his hair. “Poe, listen I need to tell you-“

“I know,” he smiles, then laughs, “I know.” He presses a few more kisses to your lips then to your cheek. “BB-8 told me.”

You shake your head and look down at the little droid who is ‘hiding’ behind Poe’s leg.

“And I heard you,” his thumb rubs across your cheek.

Your cheeks warm and you avert your gaze.

“Hey,” he ducks his head, so you’ll look at him. “I feel the same about you, ya know.”

“You love me?” the words are caught in your throat.

“I do,” he laughs as if he can’t believe he’s finally getting to say it out loud, “I love you. I have for awhile now,” he smiles and averts his gaze for a beat, raking his hand through his curls. Is that shyness in his smile you see?

You don’t waste the opportunity to kiss him again. Your hands find his cheeks and you could die from finally getting to feel his stubble under your fingertips.

“I’m so glad you’re back safe,” you sigh, hugging him to you after the kiss. You’re not sure how long you’ve been in each other’s embrace, but you don’t care.

“It’s all because of you,” he murmurs in your ear, there’s a smile in his voice.

“I didn’t do anything different with the ship?”

“It has nothing to do with the ship,” he says pulling back to look at you, “it has everything to do with you. I needed to get back here to you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he kisses your cheek. “I need to go to the briefing, but I’ll be right back ok? Wait, how about you just come with me?”

“I thought I didn’t have the clearance for that?”

“Who said that?” his eyebrows crease, “you’re coming with.” He sticks out his hand and you take it. His fingers interlock with yours, and he pulls his hand up to kiss the back of your hand. “I need my good luck charm with me.”

He leads you by the hand to the command center. You’ve only been in here once or twice, you can’t remember. The leaders of the Resistance are standing around the circle in the middle of the room. General Organa is nearby, and when she sees your hand in Poe’s, she gives you a little wink.

It overwhelms you in the best way that Poe has just decided he wants to be seen with you. He doesn’t make a show of it, but he doesn’t hide when he presses a kiss to your cheek before leaving you to join the others in the middle of the room. You sit down not far behind him and listen.

You don’t understand most of what he says as far as technical battle things are concerned, but it doesn’t matter to you now. Your lips are tingling from the many kisses he’s already given you. And you have never liked the color orange as much as you do right now. His shoulders look so broad, and even though not many people look good in those orange flight suits, it cannot hide that he has a wonderful ass.

After the meeting is over and the crowd begins to mingle, Poe turns to find you. You’re quick to grab his hand again and lean onto his shoulder.

“Wanna get something to eat?” he asks, his voice low through the buzz of the crowd.

“Yes please, just don’t blindly pick something this time?” you tease elbowing him.

“Absolutely not!” he laughs, walking with you down to the cantina. Most people are heading there now, and you like being seen holding hands with him. As his mechanic, you’d been seen with him plenty, but not like this.

You get your food and sit down together in the crowded cantina. His right hand is busy with a fork, guiding food to his mouth, his left hand is gently resting on your thigh. He’s not teasing or squeezing. It’s just gently resting, he rubs his hand up and down a little, these small affectionate touches are going to kill you, you think.

It makes so much sense he’s like this. He goes all in, headfirst into everything. It makes sense now that you’re his – he’s showing it to you.

He is teasing you a little, if accidentally. But you suspect he knows. Because when his hand nears your upper thigh, it sends a shiver in between your legs and down to your toes. He sees the shiver out of the corner of his eye, and he smirks to himself.

“I knew it!” you hear a voice nearby, it’s a friend of Poe’s. A couple others stand nearby and exchange credits.

“Knew what?” you ask.

“How long it’d be before-“ he motions between the two of you. “We were waiting for Dameron to get his head out of the sky and do something,” he claps Poe on his shoulder. You flush, and Poe shakes his head with a shy smile.

You finish eating before him, he’s been busy chatting with you and friends who came to sit down with you. So, after you’re done and he’s finishing, you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Tired?” he murmurs, so only you can hear.

“A little. Not as tired as you are, I imagine!”

“Don’t fall asleep on me yet, sweetheart. I’ve got a surprise for you.” The pet name and the promise of surprise send a jolt right to your heart.

Just then, across the room, you see Corelle. Her eyes widen seeing your head on his shoulder, she gives you a look like “am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”

You smile, and she gives you a big thumbs up. You can’t help but laugh.

“What is it?” Poe smiles hearing you laugh.

“My roommate, she’s been pushing me towards you since she knew about my crush.”

“You have a crush on me?” he teases and takes a bite of food, “that’s news to me.”

“Poe,” you laugh and sit up, playfully shoving his shoulder. He only chuckles fondly. He holds your gaze for a moment, his eyes soft. There’s that ever-present glint of the thrill, but his gaze is gentle. This is how he’s always looked at you. How are you just now seeing that this was a look of love? Were you so blind by your love for him that you didn’t realize he felt the same way back?

“You ready for your surprise now?” he pulls you from your thoughts, and you see his plate is clean.

“I don’t know, am I?” you raise an eyebrow in question.

“I guess we’ll see,” he grins and stands. He says goodbye to the people still eating and chatting. He takes your tray and stacks it on top of his to throw it out.

“You know,” he says taking your hand again. “I really do owe you.”

“For what?”

“Hearing that you love me, that was what was in my mind during the course of the mission. I had to get back to you. It was so strong. I’m only sorry I didn’t tell you how I felt before I left.”

“I suppose I knew too,” you lean into him, “Leia might have mentioned a few things.”

“She did?” he shakes his head.

“And well, your uh ‘remedy’ for my burnt finger was pretty telling.” His laugh is so loud it echoes down the hall. You’ve never seen him this happy before, and it’s all because of you. “Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see!”

The path is familiar and it’s clear soon enough that he’s taking you out to the X-Wing.

“How is this a surprise? I’m too tired to check anything.”

“I am offended you would think that’s why I brought you out here,” he feigns being shocked. “I want to give you a flying lesson. You said when I got back,” he grins and grabs both of your hands pulling you towards the ship. His shoulders sway and he flows like he’s dancing.

“Poe, I don’t know.”

“We’re not going to actually fly right now. You have my word,” he touches his hand over his heart. “I’m only going to show you the controls inside. I’m not even going to power it up.”

“Ok,” you sigh, nodding.

“It’s ok to be scared,” he offers. “It’s a dangerous machine, you know that. It’s not a toy. I only want to ease your mind a little, if you’ll let me?”

“I trust you.”

“Good.” He turns and starts to climb into the cockpit. “You coming?” He calls once he’s down inside.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” you ask him climbing up the ladder and looking down at him in the cockpit. It’s such a small space.

“My lap,” he says so casually as if that’s the most obvious answer, he pats his thighs and you can’t deny yourself. His thighs have been something you’ve thought of often.

It takes some maneuvering, but you get settled on his lap. He’s sitting forward a little with you balancing on his legs. His arms reach around you to show you the controls. He picks up one of your hands and places it on top of his, “like this,” he tells you, his voice right behind your ear. His breath moves your hair by your ear, it tickles.

“Every ship is different, but they each run in a similar way. You just have to figure out what way works best.”

“Just like people,” you think.

“That’s right,” he smiles, “that’s right.”

“Do you really want me to learn how to fly?” you ask him. You know he said he wants to ease your mind, but you wonder if this is important to him somehow.

“I would never make you, not ever. Besides, with me around you’ll never have to fly,” he pinches your side making you giggle. “and you know what? The stars are just as beautiful right here,” he points up to the night sky.

He leans back a little, and your body goes with his. Your back resting against his chest. The air feels thicker now inside, there’s an electricity and it hits you hard. The way his hands feel have a heated feeling; it reminds you of how he touched your finger when it was burnt.

“You know,” he purrs in your ear, his hands moving up to clasp the zipper of your jumpsuit. “There are other ways I can show you the stars.”

Your breath and pulse begin to quicken as he lowers the zipper. Once it’s lowered enough, he slips his hand in and cups your breast through your undershirt inside the suit. You let out a choked groan and shudder against him, laying your head back on his shoulder. His hand burns through your shirt and you can feel him hardening against your ass.

“Poe,” you gasp out. His hand is kneading your flesh, and his other hand is blazing a trail to where you can only guess is between your legs. But you stop him. “Wait,” you sit upright.

“Too fast?” his voice is quiet in your ear.

All you can do is nod your head yes. It’s all happened so fast today. You hadn’t registered until this moment that being official with him now means the physical bonds would be forming soon. You’re not even sure how to tell him he’s going to be your first.

Thunder rumbles overhead, causing you both to look up to see clouds rolling in, covering the stars.

“Alright let’s go,” he starts to guide you up and out. “We don’t need to be in this thing and get struck by lightning.”

He pushes a button and the cockpit cover slides over to seal off the cabin from the rain once you’re both on the ground

It starts to rain heavily, and you can’t help but smile at the feeling.

“You’re beautiful,” Poe looks at you smiling in the rain.

“I could say the same to you.” His curls are starting to tighten from the water. They look perfect.

“Let’s get inside yeah? This thing is starting to itch,” he tugs at the collar of his flight suit. You wonder if that has anything to do with you.

Once inside the main hangar, you start your walk down to your rooms.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” you start.

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have moved so fast.”

“I liked it,” you flush, “it’s just, I’ve never done this.” Your voice gets small. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I was embarrassed to tell you,” you say sheepishly. “Today when you kissed me-“

“That was your first kiss?” he groans and buries his face in his hands. “I’m an idiot,” he laughs.

You’re laughing now, feeling relieved. Seeing him flustered looks good on him, you think.

“You’re not,” you rub his shoulder, “that was the best first kiss I think I could have ever gotten.”

“Ok tell you what, go get some clothes to sleep in and come to my quarters tonight. To sleep.” He tacks on the last sentence when he sees a slight change in your expression.

“Oh,” you laugh just now seeing that you’re in front of the doorway to your room. You push the code and see Corelle sitting on her bed. When she sees Poe in the door, and you rifling through your drawer to get some sleep clothes, she has the biggest grin on her face.

“Sleepover huh?”

You turn to look at her, biting your lip.

“I want to hear everything!!” she whispers.

“You know I can hear you right?” Poe laughs, leaning now on the doorframe.

She only shrugs and gives you a wave when you head out.

“So, will we bother your roommate?”

“Don’t have one,” he replies punching his digit code when you reach his room. It makes sense you think, he’s a high-ranking member of the Resistance. He would have seniority with things of this nature. “BB-8 is my roommate,” he chuckles pointing to the droid in the corner. He’s powered down and charging.

“Make yourself at home, I’m going to get cleaned up, I’ll be quick.”

You sit down in a chair in front of a small desk. He opens a drawer and pulls out his own sleep clothes.

“Be right back,” he gives you a nod. His curls still wet, bounce as his head moves.

The refresher door in his room hisses behind him, and soon you hear running water. While he’s getting cleaned up, you get undressed quickly and put on your sleep clothes. It’s a standard issue pair of pants and comfortable shirt. It’s precautionary. The material while comfortable is durable in case of a quick evac.

Once you’ve changed, you sit down on the chair again and look around his room. His favorite leather jacket is draped over the back of the chair, and there’s a holopad on the desk. There’s a couple metal caf cups on the desk, one has caf still in it. There’s a shirt on the floor, and his helmet is near BB-8.

There’s something about being in his room that feels surreal but calming all at once.

Knowing he’s just on the other side of that door (naked) and wants you here with him.

You try not to think too much about him being naked in there because the reality of intimacy has your stomach flipping.

Then you hear something, pulling you from your thoughts. It’s his voice. At first you wonder if he’s talking to you, but then you realize he’s singing. He’s singing loudly, and voice is clear and beautiful. There’s almost a melancholy tone to it, but you can tell he’s happy. You are not familiar with the song, but it’s your new favorite one. You think you could listen to him sing forever.

The water shuts off, and he still hums. You can hear him moving around, what you guess is drying off and putting on his clothes.

The refresher door hisses loudly, and you jump a little, being in his room has you feeling all sorts of good jitters.

“Cold?” he asks, he’d seen you jump, mistaking it for a chill.

You try not to stare; you really do try. But he’s damp and shirtless and this is the most skin you’ve seen from him other than his shirts exposing his neck to you. He’s wearing the same sleep pants you are, but they look so much better on him. His skin is tan, his build is strong. There’s a small chain around his neck with a ring on it, and he has a towel draped over his shoulder to dry his hair. The curls are dripping water onto his back and shoulders. You’re staring.

“No,” you blush, “I was thinking about something and the door startled me.”

“You’re a bit skittish, aren’t you?” He smiles and grabs your head gently, planting a loud kiss on the top of your head. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I know I come on strong.”

You wave your hand, “don’t worry about it.” You like it.

He flops down casually on his bed. He looks like an absolute dream laying there. He’s propped up on his elbow looking at you.

“What’s the necklace?” you nod towards him. Immediately his fingers reach for it and he flips the ring over and over.

“My mother’s ring. She died when I was very young, I don’t remember much. One of the memories I do remember is when she gave me this. She told me to give it to someone who deserved it, deserved my love.”

“It’s beautiful,” you notice the shine of it, it looks new.

“It is,” he looks down at it, then drops it from his fingers, the chain catching it and it bounces against his chest. “c’mere,” he whispers and nods his head. He reaches his hand out for you and gets you situated in the bed next to him. You lay on your back while he’s propped up next to you.

“I’m nervous,” you whisper up at him.

“I can tell,” he smiles, but there’s concern on his face, “and I don’t want you to be. I want to make you feel good sweetheart. We’ll take one step at a time, just like the flying lesson. Sound good?”

“Yes,” you grin up at him and pull him down for a kiss. At first, it’s sweet kisses, but then you feel Poe’s tongue teasing your lips. Guessing what he wants, you part your lips for him and sigh at the new feeling. His tongue touches yours and you can’t help the giggle that bubbles up.

“You’re adorable,” Poe muses, your lips parting.

Feeling flustered, again, you cover your face with your hands, and you groan, “you’re making me blush.”

“Mm, sweetheart,” he laughs, “it’s not hard to do that. I’ve been making you blush since day one. Don’t think I haven’t seen. Even when you tried to hide it from me,” he whispers in your ear, kissing it then. “Still adorable.”

He’s positioned himself on top of you now, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck. You wrap your arms around him and bury your fingers into his drying curls. He’s quiet, just breathing slowly. His breath fans against your skin.

“Is this real?” you whisper. “I’m afraid it’s a dream and I’m going to wake up.”

“Oh, I’m very real,” he murmurs into your neck. He shimmies down a little so that his head is resting on your chest, his ear over your heart. He can hear your pulse quicken, and he smiles to himself.

“Don’t say it,” you roll your eyes laughing, fully aware that your body is betraying you.

“Say what? That I just felt your heart rate spike?” He lifts his head and rests his chin on your sternum looking up at you. Your hands haven’t left his curls, you bring a hand down to cradle his face. He leans into your touch, and you rub your thumb along his stubbly cheek. You feel his dimple under your palm when he smiles up at you. “I think something…has you excited…” he trails off licking his lips. “or maybe a someone.”

“I wonder who it is?” you tease back. Now your thumb is rubbing along his bottom lip. Playfully growling, he play bites your thumb making you laugh.

He lets go of your thumb and closes his eyes; he loves the feeling of your fingers in his hair. He’s practically purring as your fingers scratch his scalp.

“It’s just,” you start to say, but you can’t find the words. His eyes open at the sound of your voice.

“What? We’ll wait as long as you need sweetheart.” He finishes the sentence with kissing your thumb.

“It’s not that. What if I’m not any good? You know? In bed?”

“Nonsense,” he lays his head back down on your chest, wrapping his arms around your body and squeezing.

“What if you’ve had better?”

“Well I’m not with them right, now am I? Don’t compare yourself. Don’t. Whatever we have is between you and me. No one else.”

“I’m still nervous for you to see me.”

“And I cannot wait to see you, but sweetheart, I’m happy to hold you right now. I’ve found a nice pillow.”

You snort out a laugh.

“Give me your hand,” you tell him.

He shifts sitting upright, “ok which one?”

“Right,” you tell him. And he extends his wrist towards you. His hand limp and his palm facing upwards. His eyebrow is raised in question wondering what you’re doing.

You turn his palm over and bring his hand down to your left breast. He cups the flesh in his hand, but he doesn’t move. He wants to so bad, but he’s waiting for you.

“Ok now give me your other hand.”

He repeats the same action and gives you his left. You put his hand on your right breast.

“Baby what are you doing? I said we don’t-“

“They may not be perfect, but I like how your hands feel.”

He gives an experimental squeeze, gauging your reaction. You gasp when he squeezes and the corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. He starts to knead your breasts, digging his fingers in and massaging them. He can feel your nipples poke through your shirt into his palms.

“See, I think they are perfect.” He continues his ministrations. “Know why?” he questions, making sure you see his face.

“Why?” you whimper, it feels so good.

“Because when I do this-“ he pauses and pinches your nipples between his forefingers and thumbs. When he does, you arch your back and cry out. His chuckle is dark but playful, “you’ll do that.”

You’re feeling breathless, but you need more. You want the shirt off, you need to know what his hands feel like on bare skin.

“Poe,” your voice quivers, he’s still teasing your nipples through your shirt.

“Too much?” He pulls back, he doesn’t want to overdo it.

“Not enough,” you writhe a little under him. “If I take off my shirt, will you turn off the light?” you blush hard under his gaze. His smile is so fond, he lets out a soft laugh and lays his forehead down on your chest to hide his laugh. “Don’t laugh!” you laugh yourself knowing he means no harm.

“I can’t help it,” he lifts his head, his smile is huge, “you’re just so damn sweet. It’s killing me.” He gives you a quick kiss with a little hum before getting up to turn off the overhead light.

“You sure it’s not silly?” you look up at him walking back towards the bed in the dark. Your eyes are already starting to adjust.

“I can’t get enough,” he grins sitting upright beside you on the bed. “Who wouldn’t love this?”

“You’re so calm though, and I’m not.”

“Oh yeah?” He raises a brow and takes your hand in his. He puts your hand over his heart, and it’s beating as fast as yours. “I told you I always get the jitters before I fly.” He winks, the euphemism not lost on you.

You’re still laying on your back, his hands reach for the hem of your shirt. When his fingertips brush against the skin of your stomach, you start to giggle.

“Uh-oh, are you ticklish?” his voice is playful in the dark.

“Poe, no!” you squeal as he starts to shove his hands under your shirt and tickle your sides and tummy. He has you laughing so hard you forget you’re nervous and he pulls your shirt off quickly.

“Oh, you think you’re smooth, don’t you?”

“Hey that was pretty slick if I do say so myself sweetheart.”

Even in the dark you can see his eyes drink you in. Your heart pounds and your head pushes back into the pillow when he cups your breasts again, this time skin to skin.

“That feels so much better doesn’t it?” he asks kneading your flesh.

“So much,” you gasp. His hands do feel amazing. You’ve always loved his hands. They’re big and warm, smooth yet a little rough. But his touch is never aggressive. Now though that he’s squeezing you, his touch is firm.

“Can I try something?” he looks at you for an answer.

You nod, still whimpering under his touch. Your whimpers turn into a soft cry when he lowers his head to your breast and closes his lips around your nipple. He sucks gently and teases you with his tongue. You feel slick between your thighs, you have for a while now, but you’re soaked through.

“Poe,” you whine and start to rub yourself along his thigh nestled between your legs, “touch me please. Oh. OH. Please!” you’re gasp trying to find relief of the building pressure.

Without removing his mouth, he lowers a hand down the waistband of your pants and underwear. His middle finger touches your clit and you cry out, finally feeling a wave of relief. He circles your clit with his finger in time with how his tongue tweaks your nipple, his other finger teasing your other nipple. Your cries let him know you’re close and he quickens the pace of his fingers. You let out a ragged gasp when you come, and you become silent as your chest heaves. You’re probably pulling on his hair too harshly, but he hasn’t complained.

“Good girl,” he praises, pulling away from your breast. His mouth goes to your neck to kiss. “You did so good.”

“Poe, I-“

“Breathe baby,” he smiles, “breathe.”

“You feel so good,” you sigh, your body limp.

“Hmm, thank you,” he teases, kissing your cheek. “Funny, I was going to say the same about you.”

You wriggle around under him, the sticky between your legs is starting to feel uncomfortable. Sensing this, Poe sits up.

“Go get cleaned up,” he smooths your hair out of your face. “Normally I’d do that for you.” But he’s going to let you have your privacy in this moment. “There’s clean rags in the closest.”

Blushing hard, you disappear into the refresher to clean yourself up with the rag. You don’t take long because you feel like you should make him feel good too, even though you have no idea what to do.

The refresher light seems so bright and seeing yourself topless in his mirror has you flushing again. Your lips are swollen from his kisses, your hair is a mess.

Once you’re clean, you’re feeling all giddy from your high. You’re about to jump back into bed when you hear a soft snoring. At first you think he’s faking; he’s got such a funny sense of humor it seems like him.

“Poe?” you whisper.

“Hmm?” he mumbles out, his eyes twitching. He’s laying on his stomach.

“I’m getting back in bed,” you tell him.

“Ok,” he smacks his lips and nods his head.

You do your best and slide under the covers. You’re on your back, and you grab his arm, placing it across your middle. His arm wraps around you, his forearm just under your breasts. In his sleepy state, he nuzzles his face into your neck. You rub your hands along his skin, feeling the hair on his arm.

The poor thing, you think. He’s had a long couple of days. You’re not even sure when he last slept after that long mission. It warms your heart he stayed up with you as late as he did tonight.

You finally have a restful sleep. You’re not worried for his safety, because he’s in your arms right now, you can feel his body move with each breath. There’s no more worrying about admitting how you feel because if there was, you wouldn’t be in this bed. It is a restful sleep, finally. Finally.

Until the next morning when you both wake to an alarm blaring. Poe bolts upright and you jump – you’d forgotten where you were. He leaps out of bed and wakes BB-8.

“Get dressed,” he tells you and throws you your clothes. You barely register that you’re half naked and exposed to him in the light, but you’re panicking from this alarm.

“What’s going on?” you’re scared.

“That’s the evacuation alarm,” he says while he pulls on his pants. He grabs that shirt off the floor and tugs it on. Then he goes for his flight suit, pulling it on over his clothes. “here,” he takes his leather jacket off the back of the chair and hands it to you. “Hold onto this for me will ya?”

Once you’re dressed, you put his jacket on over your work jumpsuit. It makes you feel safer somehow, it smells like him.

He opens his door, and there’s already people running to their stations to evacuate. Poe motions for BB-8, they’ll head to the X-Wing.

“Where do I go?” you know the protocol, but in the moment your mind is muddled, and panic has set in.

“Hey,” he cups your face in his hands, “breathe baby. Go find Leia. Get on a transport out of here. I gotta go do my thing, but I will find you. I will find you.” He kisses your lips and then your forehead.

At least you can be with him until you get to the hangar. But then you have to split up. You fight back tears, you just got him and now you have to leave him again. You just want this all to be over.

You get on the transport and anxiety floods your veins. You don’t want to be off the ground. You know you have to do this, but there’s still that fear that always comes with being in a ship out in space. You don’t feel safe. You want nothing more than for Poe to be here with you, to help you through this. You think back to what he said that he’s always nervous before he goes up, you just never found out what it is that calms him.

Wait.

Of course, you know what it is that makes him calm. It’s you.

You’re the good luck charm, and he’s yours. Your fingers touch the worn leather of the jacket you’re wearing, you know now why he gave it to you to wear. To remind you he’s still with you. Tightening the jacket around yourself when the ship takes off into the atmosphere keeps you calm.

There’s a battle of enemy ships outside the window. Soon you’re far enough away they are too small to make out what’s happening, but you know he’s in the thick of it. There’s nothing for you to do now except watch out the window. No assignments have been given, and most people who have jobs to do are doing it. There’s nothing you can do but watch and hope that he stays safe.

When the short-lived battle ends, you watch for that familiar X-Wing to fly into the hangar of the transport. You make your way towards that hangar to greet him. You see Corelle nearby and a few other mechanics in the area waiting for their respective pilots to return.

As soon as Poe lands, he jumps out of the ship, BB-8 right behind him. He runs to greet you at the doorway, but a First Order ship fires into the hangar, setting off an explosion. The force of the blast sends Poe and BB-8 forward, Poe’s body knocks you backwards. Everyone that was inside the hangar was lost, including Corelle.

Poe groans getting off you, apologizing profusely and checking your face to see if you’re alright.

“Corelle was in there,” you cry, looking through the doorway and seeing the wreckage. You start to try to get up, Poe stops you. Smoke billows and flames are everywhere. Even Poe’s X-Wing has been completely destroyed. “Your ship!” shock taking over.

“Hey, look at me,” he cups your face, “I don’t care about the ship, are you alright?”

You feel a pain in your side, then you feel dizzy. Poe calls your name, but he sounds far away and looks blurry. The last thing you see before you blackout is Poe’s face, panic written all over his expression.

For the next few days, you slip in and out of consciousness. There are moments you can remember in little flashes.

You remember Poe coming to check on you. His voice a gentle whisper asking if you’re alright. Another time, his voice cracks asking for an update.

You remember feeling Poe’s hand holding yours, feeling the press of his lips to your forehead.

You remember hearing someone say, “the war is almost over, it’ll be over soon.”

And they would be right. The war is almost over. While you’ve been out the past couple days, the Resistance has found allies across the galaxy to gather for one last battle. Poe hated to leave you, but he knew you were in safe hands and he has a duty to fulfill. He had to fight for you out there, while you fought for your life here at the new base.

When you finally came to after a few days under, Poe is sitting next to you in med bay. He’s asleep. His leather jacket draping over his torso as a makeshift blanket. He’s resting his cheek on his fist; his other hand is holding yours.

“Poe,” you whisper. You have no idea what time it is, and you feel disoriented. But one thing’s for sure is he looks so cute when he’s asleep. It feels like a lifetime ago when you were cuddled up with him in his bed, when really it was only just last week. “Poe?”

“I’m awake!” he jerks up with a sniff and a grunt. When his tired eyes land on you, he blinks softly as a soft grin turns into a full-blown smile, “hi sweetheart.”

“Hi,” you answer back. As you get your bearings, you feel a soreness in your side. You wince when you sit up, and Poe is quick to help you adjust in the bed.

“Easy, you got hit pretty bad.”

“What happened?” you try to remember but all you remember is the explosion, Poe falling on top of you and Corelle.

Corelle.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes. You think of the other friends you lost that day, that it could have been Poe if he hadn’t gotten out when he did.

“Hey, shhh,” he dries your tears and kisses your forehead, “you’re safe. You got hit with some debris. Knocked you out for a couple days.”

“General?” you hear a nurse approach you and Poe when she sees you’re awake. “Sorry to interrupt but I’d like to check her vitals now that she’s awake.”

“Of course,” Poe nods and stands, moving out of her way.

“How are you feeling?” she asks you, but you’re trying to process what you think you just heard. General? What did you miss?

“I’m a little tender still, I feel a little out of it.”

“Those are common side effects from the bacta spray. With some rest you’ll be good as new very soon,” she smiles and enters something in her holopad. “I’ll be back later to check on you alright?”

She nods at you and then Poe thanks her again.

“General?” is the first word out of your mouth as soon as she’s gone. “What?”

“I was…. promoted,” he nods his head, his eyes look sad. “We lost Leia. She named me general before she-“ his shoulders slump.

Rank has always been important to Poe. He wants to succeed. But in reaching the top, it meant sacrifice. And this was a loss he wasn’t ready to lose.

“Are you okay?” you ask sitting up, his hand hasn’t left yours and you squeeze.

“I’ll be alright,” he nods. You’re safe and that’s what matters now to him. “Especially now that it’s over.”

“It’s over? Like over, over?” your frown turns to a bright smile. Can it really be over?

“It’s over,” he grins.

“I can’t believe it!” you laugh sitting up slowly. When you pull your hand from his, you see a familiar ring on your finger. “Is this what I think it is?” you ask holding your hand up to look at the ring.

“It is,” he clears his throat, his fingers running through his hair.

“Don’t tell me I missed the wedding too?”

Poe throws his head back laughing, “no, no. I thought I’d wait for you to be awake for that one.”

Over the next few days while you heal, Poe wraps things up on the new base. Now that the fight is over, life will begin to trickle back to the new normal without the First Order. Poe oversees the transitions as general. He appointed Finn co-general so the weight can be distributed.

Now is the perfect time for it, because Poe has other things on his mind.

There’s a buzz all over the base now, people wondering when your wedding will be. There’s already been 4 in the last week. The relief of the war is getting to everyone in such a positive manner.

You spend a day or two extra recovering. Since the piece of metal that hit you had nicked a couple organs, you had major surgery. You had to have time to heal. You were given strict orders for ‘no strenuous activity’ for a couple weeks at least. Poe found this very amusing, but also disappointing.

You’re just as disappointed as him. You have his ring on your finger, all that’s left is to seal the deal officially.

While you heal and Poe gets affairs in order, you spend a lot of time in his quarters now on this new base. In his bed and in his arms is your favorite place to be.

It’s harder on you than him to wait a few days more before you can be intimate. The press of his body against yours at night has you aching in your heart and between your legs. But you can’t complain, his arms and his kisses sustain you plenty.

You spend hours in each other’s arms, kissing until you’re sleepy. He’s a skilled kisser. Skilled as in, he’s quick to figure out what you like and what you don’t.

How he’s this patient with you, you’ll never know. But he would never forgive himself if you were hurt because he couldn’t wait a couple days for sex. He already feels guilt from not protecting you from the hunk of metal hitting your body. His body was blocking yours but still managed to hit you and not him.

He’s currently kissing your neck, with you under him. They aren’t heated kisses, they’re soft and tender. Dragging his lips along the column of your neck, throwing in little nibbles.

“How are you feeling?” he murmurs been kisses. “Answer me honestly.”

“I feel good. Tomorrow is when they said it would be ok for ‘activity.’”

“Let’s get married tomorrow then,” he whispers kissing under your ear.

“Okay,” you giggle wrapping your arms around him tight.

So, you do. You get one last approval from med bay that you’re safe for ‘activities.’ Poe leaves you to that and he disappears, he tells you before he leaves to meet him in hangar 4.

Your time as a mechanic meant that you didn’t have pretty clothes. Everything you owned was either for working or sleeping. But now that there is more order, you managed to get your hands on a dress to wear. You can’t even remember the last time you wore a dress. Poe certainly hasn’t seen you one in your months of being together.

So, before you meet him, you put on your dress. It’s flowy and elegant and accentuates all your curves in the right places. You do the final touches of your hair looking in his mirror. You know he’ll be so surprised to see you like this.

You walk alone to the hangar, and it’s noticeably quiet. There’s a tremor in your hands, and your knees quake with each step as you walk closer. This is really happening. You only wish Corelle was here to see it.

When you reach the hangar and walk inside, you gasp. The entire base is here. Cheers erupt when you walk in, and you flush under the attention. Poe is standing at the opposite end; the crowd has to part so you can walk down to him.

He looks so handsome, the smile on his face is pouring out of him. His eyes are bright. His hair is somewhat tame, which makes you smile, meaning he had to put effort into taming it. He’s wearing a nice jacket you’ve never seen before, it’s black and clean. He looks wonderful.

He’s thinking the same about you, your smile is radiant, and it knocked the breath out of him to see you in that dress.

When you get closer to him, he reaches his hand out for you to take. There’s a slight shake to his hand too.

“You ready?” he whispers, thumb rubbing over the back of your hand.

Your smile is so big that tears begin to well up in your eyes, “yes,” you whisper back.

The ceremony is very short, and you leap into his arms to kiss him. His hand is strong on your back, and his fist shoots up in the air in a celebration. The audience cheers, and BB-8 nearby beeps happily.

“Happy beeps, that’s right buddy,” Poe laughs hearing his droid over the crowd. “Happy beeps,” he says to you, that smile still in his eyes.

Poe sets you down and the party begins. But the two of you make your exit for his – your quarters.

Taking your hand, you’re both giggling making your ‘escape’ to your quarters. The moment the door opens, he’s on you. His hands on your hips, and his lips on yours. His tamed hair has your hands in it now, messing it up and setting the curls loose. You push his jacket off as he pushes you up against a wall.

His hands are quick, he’s careful to pull on your dress to take it off without damaging it. You all but yank his shirt off his body. Your dress is pooled now at your feet, the only thing keeping you from total nudity is a pair of underwear.

You reach for Poe’s belt, but your hands start to shake a little. His hands clutch yours, and he glances up at you.

“Hey,” he leans in and steals a quick kiss, “it’s ok. It’s just me.” He unbuckles his belt and tugs his own pants off, leaving him in shorts that are tightening around his bulge. You look down at him, and back up to his face quickly, your eyes wide and face hot. His smirk is playful, he likes seeing you check out his body.

Grabbing your hips, he starts to back you up against the bed. His hand cradles the back of your neck as he lays you down. He looks down at you and grins, and his feet slip, and he almost falls on top of you, making you both laugh. He cups your face and kisses you all over, you haven’t stopped laughing.

“Hey, I remember these,” he muses when he reaches down to cup your breasts. You cry out and he only laughs, he’s proud of himself.

“Poe, I swear,” you groan when he thumbs over your nipples.

“You’ll what?” he challenges, raising his eyebrow. He tweaks your nipples and your cry is weak escaping your lips.

With some sense in your head, you reach down in between you and cup his length through his shorts. He lets out a choked groan, “ok well played,” he rasps out and pushes your hand away.

His hands wander down to your stomach, and he finds that scar above your hip. He traces over it with his thumb, looking up at you – you know what that look means. He’s glad you’re alive. That scar will always be a reminder.

He doesn’t linger on the thought, instead he fingers dance along your underwear.

“Can I?” he asks hooking his fingers in the band. He waits for you to nod before he pulls them down your legs exposing you to him. You wriggle a little unnerved at him seeing you, his hands steady your hips and he looks up at your face. “It’s ok,” he smiles again. “I’ve already been down here remember?” he winks.

You’re slick already from the excitement, so when he teases a finger at your entrance it slides in easily. His thumb teases your clit until you’re ready to take another finger. His thumb brushes back and forth, while his fingers pump in and out. Quick precise pilot hands are working you over and that thought alone brings you close to the edge.

“One more,” he coos and adds a third finger. It’s a tight squeeze but his thumb is getting you to relax. When he curls his fingers deep inside, you groan louder than you had before. “There it is,” he grins and leans down to kiss your cheek. “You’re doing so good sweetheart, so so good.”

When your orgasm hits you, your mouth falls open and no sound comes but ragged breaths.

“Come on,” he coos working you through the last few waves of it. You groan loudly when you come down, and he’s pleased, “that’s it baby. Let me hear you.”

While you catch your breath, he stands to slip off his shorts that are uncomfortable now. You glance down to see him, he’s hard. His hand lazily pumps himself a couple times, and you swallow down a gulp of nerves. He’s bigger than you anticipated.

Crawling back on the bed, he hovers over you. He wears the chain around his neck still even though there’s no ring on it, and this chain while dangling, touches along your chest. He situates himself between your legs, pulling your legs up and around his waist. You can feel his tip at your entrance, and he waits for you to breathe before he guides himself inside.

He moves slowly, it’s a pinch at first. It’s a snug fit but the feeling of being full feels wonderful. He breathes out himself, trying to stay still. One little thrust from his hips could hurt if you’re not ready. When he feels you relax, he starts to move.

His thrusts are quick and precise at first, his kisses are hot, and his mouth drags along your skin. Your fingers never leave his curls. His mouth focuses on a nipple for awhile as he thrusts, only adding to your pleasure. His body rubs along your clit perfectly, bringing on another orgasm.

That’s when his thrusts become sloppy. He grunts and sits up, bringing you with him. You’re sitting on his thighs and he buries his face in your breasts. His stubble scrapes along sensitive skin. The new position pushes him deeper inside, and another orgasm follows close behind the one you just had. You hold his head to your breast and throw your head back while his body moves. He stops suddenly and groans when his cock jumps inside you, spilling himself in you.

“Oh,” is all you can say, whimpering as you still pulse around him as he softens inside of you.

“Mhmm,” he hums, his eyes heavy from the intense pleasure.

“Just like flying right?” you laugh.

“Oh yeah,” he laughs back, “ push some buttons, toggle some controls, move the stick around…just like flying.”

“Stop,” you laugh at his terrible analogy.

“You saw some stars, though didn’t you?” he winks.

He’s not wrong there.

“Tomorrow,” you tell him.

“Tomorrow what?” he replies, slipping out of your heat.

“I’ll let you take me up flying, for real. Just not in the X-Wing.”

“Really?” he’s excited now. He jumps up and goes in the refresher to get a rag to clean you. You stare at his bare ass as he moves, and it’s even more perfect than you had imagined.

“Yes really,” you laugh when he comes back.

He turns around and looks behind him when he gets back on the bed, “is there something behind me?”

When your cheeks darken, he tuts.

“Checkin’ out my ass huh?”

“Poe, honestly,” you laugh shoving his chest while he starts to clean your thighs, “how can you be so sweet but such an-“

“Ass?”

“I really hate you,” you laugh, “and all your bad jokes.”

“That’s hurtful.”

You spent the rest of the night laughing at more bad jokes and tangled up in his arms. And he took you flying that next morning.

It’s a small spacecraft, room enough for the both of you to sit comfortably. It takes a lot of coaxing and kisses before you’re comfortable going in the ship, but he never leaves your side. His jacket is around your shoulders, and his hand is in yours.

He sits in the pilot seat and flicks on all the controls, makes some jokes, and soon you are up in the air and going into space.

He tells you what to do to make the jump to light speed, and you follow his instructions perfectly.

“I don’t want to look out the window,” you say suddenly. The bright blue streaks of stars fill the view from the window, and it makes you feel dizzy.

“C’mere,” he pats his lap. Facing him, you straddle his lap and curl into his arms. At first you thought, hoped, he wanted you to ride his thigh (which you will later) but for now you enjoy the comfort of your husband’s arms and chest.

-FIVE YEARS LATER-

The Resistance has faded into a normal better life in the galaxy. Poe still holds the title of General. You’re not actually 100% about that? But you plan on calling him that for the rest of your lives. He likes it when you use it bed.

You’ve made a home for yourselves back on Poe’s home world of Yavin IV. You still work as a mechanic, and Poe flies when he can.

But now that you have the new baby, your lives have been turned upside down.

“When do you think I’ll be able to take her up to fly with me?” Poe’s carrying her in his arms, walking towards you. You’re outside oiling the X-Wing.

“Poe, she’s three months old!” you shake your head and pull him in for a kiss. Your fingers pet his beard and he kisses you once more.

“My mom took me up when I was 6!” he argues and starts to press kisses on his baby’s face.

“I’m just not comfortable with you taking little Corelle up yet. But I am going to let you teach her to fly.”

“I’ll teach her on this old thing,” he pats on his X-Wing. “It’s were you were conceived!” he tells her.

“Poe!” you smack his thigh with your work rag.

“Well she was, if you recall.”

“Oh, I recall,” you feel your neck flush. “When you teach her to fly just don’t tell her that, please.”

You kiss your daughters little head and then Poe’s bristly cheek. Then you kneel to get back to work.

“You’ll teach her mechanics too,” Poe muses watching you, “she’ll be able to build her own ships and then fly ‘em!” He bounces her on his hip. He starts to hum a song; one you’ve not heard in years.

“That song!” you gasp. The memory comes flooding back. “I don’t think I’ve heard you sing that since…”

“Since?” Poe stops his humming to look up at you.

“I remember you singing it in the refresher that night, the first night I stayed with you.”

“I can’t believe you remember that!” his smile is fond.

“Of course, I do, I remember everything about that night! One of the best nights of my life.”

“Yeah, I was pretty great wasn’t I?” He laughs earning him another smack on his leg. You turn away from him then ‘ignoring him’ but it’s not working, because he won’t be ignored, and you’re not really mad. Poe clears his throat, he’s checking out your ass as you work, “do you think BB-8 can babysit?”

You turn around and lower your goggles, looking at him.

“What are you going to tell him exactly?”

“The truth? What? It’s not like he doesn’t know.”

“Well I don’t want him to know that’s what we’re doing out here!” you’re standing now, laughing. Poe’s right next to you kissing your neck. He nuzzles his beard against your skin.

“I’ll tell him…. we’re going on a flight. See some stars.”

“Ok fine, General Dameron. Show me the stars.”

tagging: @pajamasecrets, @huliabitch, @egertonunwin, @writefightandflightclub, @coredrive, @swimmingbyrd, @maciiiofficial, @mrpascals, @vintagemichelle91, @thescarletknight2014, @captinbisexuality, @tarrevizslas, @a-heavenly-way-to-die, @artemiseamoon, @poedameronflyboy, @mostly-megan, @takenbyfandoms, @islandcrow, @dreamgirl-67, @omg-so-many-fandoms, @pinkiemme, @ccordiform, @frvstratixn, @ginger-swag-rapunzel, @zombiedixon89, @loki-098, @flower-petal-blooming, @thy-enchanted-cookie, @theindiealto, @jigglemiwa, @smolpeachees, @breashlyn2000

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #dameron #star wars #my writing #my gifs #mine #I'M SO GLAD TO BE ABLE TO FINALLY POST THIS!!!!!!!!!!#I HOPE YALL LIKE IT

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lizallanosborn · 2 years

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YES let's hear the puzzlersverse goblin lore, take this ask as an open invitation to share as much about your goblin ideas as you please

Thank you:]] also sorry this is so long, posting on mobile so resd more isn't an option

I have a couple of different verses, the main ones being my own version of sm, from the ground up and the other that sticks a bit closer to the comics in terms of certain stuff. In most of them, how the goblin works is usually the same/similar.

In the sm puzzleverse, Norman ends up having the same accident like the comics in terms of the goblin formula exploding in his face, and slowly after that gaining the benefits (super strength, healing etc) and the cons (insanity, even more of a dickhead then before).

Like in the comics as well, Norman spent a few weeks in the hospital recovering, a little while after that however, Norman starts to get more obsessive over the formula and what it's done to him, coming to the conclusion that it isn't truly complete/is unstable in some way. It's up in the air if that was really the case but that's what Norman thought. Around the same time the idea of 'being the goblin' and becoming a costumed criminal starts consuming his mind and he begins entertaining thoughts about it. The reason why he ends up settled on goblins is partly from a bad childhood memory and his secret love for whimsy and such.

Eventually, he creates the newest, complete version of the goblin formula, which was significantly altered, somewhat unconsciously on Noman's part, leading to the end product. He tested it on himself and the result was a physical transformation but resembling the classic goblin look.

As for Harry, I haven't fully decided on if Gwen actually dies in this au but I think either way, Norman ends up getting impaled and (temporarily) dying, leaving Harry to find him and see the green goblin turn into his dad. Unlike in the comics, harry doesn't strip Norman of his clothes and instead freaks out and drags his dad's body away to hide or keep safe or leave there. Harry isn't really thinking about it in that moment and ends up on a very panicky autopilot. Stashes his dad's body someplace safe and flees back home.

Eventually getting himself more together, he finds noman's body is gone, harry comes to the conclusion that spider man may have stolen his fathers body, instead of the truth, which is that Norman healed enough to wake up and crawl off to one of his hide outs to fully recover, assuming peter hid his body for some reason. Harry, blaming spider man for his dad's 'death' and feelings of anger and betrayal at Norman, causes him to look for his dad's goblin stuff and all his secrets. Eventually finding it, including the 'complete goblin formula' and Normans notes, in the end, after a few mental breakdowns, he takes it. It should be noted that Norman does not fake his death and instead lies low for a bit and is just assumed to be missing. In this au, Peter ends up having to deal with being tag teamed by the world's worst father-son duo.

As for my other verse, it follows a lot of the comics, including that Norman and/or Harry, wear a mask as the goblin but it eventually diverges, as at some point Norman snaps which leads to him creating a new version of the formula, that does just make him a full on goblin. Harry is accidentally exposed to it at some point in the future. This verse is a lot less fleshed out rn

Side effects wise, the complete formula ends up changing harry and normans eye colour from blue to green and despite the transformation working as a 'transformation at will', occasionally stray patches of their skin will turn green or features look sharper then they should etc.

This is usually dealt with by using clothes to hide it,make up or just avoiding people all together. The tails in their goblin forms are also prehensile for added fun and awful cursed fact, they do keep their hair in their goblin forms but the costume hides it.

#i have more but this is so goddamn long already #thsk you for the ask i like talking about my verses snd ideas a lot #asks #puzzling posts #marvel #norman osborn #harry osborn #green goblin

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mc-critical · 3 years

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How similar did you find Mihrimah to her mother as a character? I’ll be completely honest I found it a bit comical how other characters in the show or even fans of the franchise would consider Mihrimah very much her mother’s daughter while I personally feel they contrasted in a very important way: Mihrimah was born into privilege that Hürrem never truly had, or at the very least never had the full extent of. Mihrimah was considered “one of the dynasty” and was treated and accomodated to as such from day one, and I feel she got used to having pretty much everything at her fingertips for the most part and it showed in her interactions and the way she processed the events that would take place around her. Hürrem on the other hand would have elitism applied to her through all stages of her life and spent her entire life either climbing the social ladder in the harem or fighting to maintain her spot. I won’t deny that Mihrimah certainly posseses strength and intelligence in her own right but a spitting image of her mother? I wouldn’t think so. What do you think?

Truly, I've also always wondered why Mihrimah is often considered solely "her mother's daughter" and nothing else. I get why the characters of the show do so, because there are certainly times she behaves similarly or absorbs her mother's assessments completely - Mahidevran calling her as tenacious as Hürrem when she found out she organized a secret meeting with Taslicalı, Mustafa comparing her to her after she was blindly unwilling to understand his point of view in E121 and especially, Şah Sultan telling her outright that she's like Hürrem, when in the season 3 finale Mihrimah took it upon herself to go in her mother's footsteps when she was considered fully gone. These points of view I understand, because they had one particular reason, one particular event that triggered their reaction. What I don't understand is the fandom taking these at face value, even when they have the full picture of her character, because in spite of these moments, Mihrimah is very different from her mother.

The contrast you brought up is very important, because Mihrimah indeed has something that Hürrem doesn't and Hürrem herself relies and capitalizes on that, expecting from Mihrimah to achieve what she couldn't. That's why when Hatice used elitism on her in the beginning of season 2, Hürrem turned to Mihrimah specifically and it was also why it was she Hürrem was sharing her dreams and ambitions with from early on. It makes Hürrem lean on her and Mihrimah acts accordingly. She not only takes her position for granted just like her aunts, that same position becomes utilized for her mother's goals. This contrast reflects on her narrative role and arc, as well.

Ironically, Mihrimah seemed closer to her mother when she was little than when she grew older. When she was a child, we could definetly say she was set to succeed Hürrem, exceed her even. The way she professed she isn't like the other princesses (paralleled with Hürrem's: "Don't compare me to anyone else."), the way she wore the crown for a bit, which was her character establishing moment, the way she thought of strategic intrigues that gave Hürrem a run for her money when Mahidevran ruled the harem... We could easily think she was her mother's replica, but worse, similar to grown MCK Dilruba, only more simplified, spoiled and brash without a truly overlying motive. Little Mihrimah was supposed to be like that simply because of it, but it looked like we had to take the hint she was the dynastic version of Hürrem's most over the top relation to the power she already had. (which, by the wedding, wasn't little at all.) This didn't end up being the case at. all.

The difference in Mihrimah's arc can be underlined best when we compare it to the arcs similar to Hürrem's - the arcs of each sultana from the Sultanate of Women. Hürrem is presented as the unwarranted beginner of the Sultanate of Women in the show and the characters in it followed the same patterns of their respective arcs, even when it was showed in a different order. (we saw Safiye's gradual fall, instead of her gradual rise) Now, historically Mihrimah is a part of the Sultanate of Women and at first, she was set to be it in the show, too, as I described. When she grew up, and especially in season 4, however, we saw quite a difference in her role and arc that diverged from everyone else's. Not to mention that she got the crown only briefly until she broke it, she didn't get the thematic ring the others got, either, the ring that became key for all these sultanas, which is telling in a symbolic way. If she were a spitting image of her mother, wouldn't she get all that? But let's ignore these technicalities. Every character of MC's Sultanate Of Women has a primary motive that is survival and rise and keep of power that is most thoroughly shown to us through Nigar Kalfa's advice to Hürrem in the first episode. Mihrimah not only lacks this particular motive, by most of season 3, she has yet to find her own. Mihrimah's character didn't have any solid foundation for a long period of time: at first she was brash and spoiled, because she was and because she could, then she didn't do that much in the script aside from her love stories, she had room to breathe before it all became more serious. She had the chance to discover herself. To venture into her love adventures with Taşlicalı and Bali Bey. Neither Hürrem, nor the other sultanas of the SOW had that chance. They are put into the environment right from the beginning, while Mihrimah had to be put into it much, much later, so the foundation of her character came only then and only by some of the second half of season 3 and the whole season 4 it came to the surface.

And when her motivation and foundation finally appeared clearly, they were nowhere near Hürrem's. The main thematic exploration of the Sultanate of Women was their growing relation to power and the way it evolved from Hürrem to Turhan. Mihrimah's relation to power wasn't at the core of her thematic arc. Mihrimah's character is about familial protection. Throughout the series, she was pushed to do what is necessary to protect her family. Anytime Hürrem or Rustem beg her to do something, they use the well-being of her brothers as an argument, which she believes in wholeheartedly. Even the moments where she was defending her mother, like episode 84, was not because it was powerful for the sake of being powerful, but was rather a reaction of hers to try to defend the threatened. She is taught to value family most of all and doing everything for them she considers right. The turning point for her character was marrying Rustem where her monologue highlighted that realization of hers - she did something she was strongly against, but she had to do it for her and her brothers' own good, despite of the wedding being like a funeral. That could be paralleled with the culmination of her overall arc - her stealing Mustafa's seal that was also supposed to be for her family, but had more dire consequences she had to come to terms with. (and arguably didn't, because protecting family and legacy is way too engrained in her now.)

For a while, Mihrimah had an allegedly idealistic perspective, which is why there were times where she tried to act as a peacekeeper in such a system. That made her quite a bit more perceptive than her own mother - she predicted the possibility of an eventual fallout between Selim and Bayezid, calling them, not Mustafa their biggest problem. Coupled with her idealism, she wanted Mustafa safe and sound for very long and was in a good relation with him. Her character is about familial protection, but isn't Mustafa also part of the family, of Mihrimah's own blood? It's what she thought, too. That perceptiveness and perspective were muted by Hürrem and Rustem more often than they weren't, of course, but they existed and they brought them into conflicting situations. Would that be the case if Mihrimah were a spitting image of her mother?

One more thing important to note is that Hürrem (along with the SOW of the show) is guided by what became her own feelings and desires, Mihrimah learned to let go of them. I feel what Mihrimah wanted most in her life were true love and piece. Hürrem had found her love in Süleiman, but Mihrimah's journey in finding it has always been stopped by something or someone else time and time again and when someone (Dr. Pedro) finally offered her a way out, she decided to stay on her own terms. (I don't think she would've gone with him, even if Rustem didn't threaten to kill him) She has been told that piece is impossible in this period (Rustem: "Life isn't a fairy tale, Mihrimah.") and she had to use her own power when she didn't want to at all. She didn't want to think of the consequences her actions would cause right until reality ensued.

The necessity put upon her and her feelings and desires were clashing constantly with each other, while with Hürrem they were in near perfect accordance and when they weren't, she made them to be soon enough. With Mihrimah the times where she chose to act with her feelings and the ones where she acted in necessity were always taking turns narratively, leaving us to wonder which one would prevail in what moment. And the more time passes, the more the necessity prevails, because she accepted it.

#magnificent century #mihrimah sultan #ask #stuffandthangs

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danganronpasurvivoraskblog · 3 years

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Mod, who are your top 10 favorite characters and top 10 least favorite?

//I have actually been wanting to discuss something like this, so I’m glad someone brought it up to me.

//I’ll go through with this, but I won’t be discussing my least favorites, since I don’t want to bring any negativity, and to be honest, I enjoy writing pretty much everyone in this blog. I also fear if I share who my least favorites are in the main series, said characters won’t get as many asks, and I don’t want any unfair bias. I can definitely admit to hating Haiji though, because...well...he obviously won't be receiving any questions anymore. Besides, I doubt many people will disagree with me.

Honorable Mentions:

Makoto Naegi

Mahiru Koizumi

Kirumi Tojo

Kaede Akamatsu

Tsumugi Shirogane

Shuichi Saihara

Iroha Nijiue

Mikihiko Koyasunaga

Yoruko Kabuya

Tsurugi Kinjo

Uchui Porosen

Kibin Hatsudoki

//Though to be honest, everyone may as well be an honorable mention because I love writing every single one of these guys. Also, like I just said, don’t let this top 10 affect your asks. I love every character in this blog and I’m happy to make asks for each and every one of them. It was really hard to narrow it down to 10

#10: Tenko Chabashira

This might seem a little surprising, given that Tenko hasn't had a whole lot of screen time and story relevance so far. She's only been prominent in two arcs, Deadly Harmony and Novoselic Revolution, both of which she didn't have as much screen time as most of the other characters. However, not to spoil anything major, I have big plans for her, and what I've pulled out of her so far is something I'm proud of. My main goal is mainly to give her a bit of development, and tone down on the sexism element of her character. Not remove it entirely, mind you, because let's be real, Tenko unfortunately isn't Tenko without it, but basically to not do what the DR dev team did and make it the forefront of her character, while her other exceedingly good traits are just at the back until later on in the story.

#09: Kokichi Ouma

Kokichi is one of, if not, my favorite character in the original DR series. My main goal of him in this series is trying to grapple with his constantly changing attitude, mainly towards the DRV3 cast besides himself. At first he's glad to see them, then he turns spiteful towards Shuichi and Kaede when they try to fight him, then he straight up just abandons them and attempts to cut off contact. As he is right now, he's conflicted about how to feel about everyone. Sure, they all still hate him, but during Cabaret Kyojin's they came to his defense when he most needed it. That whole arc might've seemed pretty pointless and acted as needless filler, but my true intention of it was to flesh out the characters involved, mainly Kokichi and Kuripa. Speaking of which, that's another plot point that I'm looking forward to branching upon: the little companionship those two have going on right now.

#08: Monaca Towa

Monaca is a character I actually tend to struggle with in the grand scheme of things. The reason being that, arguably, she in canon is the second biggest antagonist in the series behind Junko. What I tried to do with Survivor though, is not make her an antagonist, but make her slowly become more and more redeemable, despite her actions. The reason why I went with this approach is mainly due to Monaca's last appearance in the series, where she states to Toko and Komaru that she's kind of just done with everything to do with Junko and Despair. I don't think it would be easy to bring her back as an antagonist because of THAT fiasco, and that is legitimately one of favorite scenes of her...which is funny because it's from DR3 and I kinda hate the anime. Her whole presence in Survivor is based around the idea of trying to seek redemption, but she doesn't outwardly want to admit this, nor does she really think she's worthy or deserving of said redemption. She's an adult now, and she grew a conscience. A guilty one that weighs her down and makes her come back to earth to basically settle things and make peace, and though it's been difficult, I love how she's turned out so far.

#07: Akira Tsuchiya

I understand many have their reservations about Akira after what he did this arc, but he's still legitimately one of my favorite villains in this blog because despite the fact that he's a psychopath who kills and ruins people all just for causing Despair, he's just kinda super relatable. He constantly lives with the attitude of just being done with everyone's shit, and I know a lot of DR fans can relate to that. He's also the kind of guy who marches to the beat of his own drum, which is obviously a very slow beat. He rarely ever does what Tsumugi tells him to do, unless the plan interests him or gives him something to do, and his character in general is based around the idea of "Shut-in NEET who just so happens to have a power complex." Overall, what makes him unique to me is just how normal he is, especially when he's compared to the chaotic sea that is the Danganronpa Villains.

#06: Mikan Tsumiki

Novoselic Revolution had the very important role in the story of mending Mikan. Without her efforts and the sacrifices she made in that arc, there's a high chance that the group would have failed to retake the kingdom from Angie and Mikihiko. It goes without saying that the screentime Mikan got in this arc was some of my absolute favorite moments on this blog from a writers perspective. A lot of people in DR dislike Mikan for her actions and character change in the third case of the second game, which I really don't think is fair. Mikan was just the character chosen to be afflicted with the Despair Disease. Nothing else would have been changed had it been a different character, so her role early on in Survivor is mainly her trying to come to terms with her actions, as well as things like making things right with Hiyoko (and Ibuki by extrension) and reevaluating whether or not she's a good person. Mikan is an emotionally and mentally broken child, and it's my full intent in my writing of her to heal her wounds like she does for so many other people.

#05: Narumi Osone

Easily my favorite Zetsubou villain in the blog. During Novoselic Revolution, I really buttered up how much I enjoyed writing Mikihiko, but in reality, I was just waiting for the Rebirth Duo (her and Akira) to burst onto the scene. She didn't make for as great a twist villain in Life and Lies of Akeru Yozora as I would've liked her to be, but even now, I still feel like she left an impact. I mean, she committed quite the number of atrocities. The main reason why I like Narumi though, is how she diverges from the rest of the Zetsubou group. While most of them are doing their evil things for reasons that constitute to causing as much Despair as possible, she does it for almost the complete opposite reason. She absolutely despises Despair, and the only reason she's with Organization Zetsubou, is so that she can patiently await and watch as the Hope that stems from the people fighting back. It's also plays into her ideal. Narumi is so obsessed with Hope that she believes that anyone and everyone who is without hope, and gives into Despair, doesn't deserve to live (and ideal that also allows her to easily hit it off with Nagito). To name the best example: The UUV. Their revenge fantasy is based around the Despair they feel post Ayumu and Marin's deaths, and not around the Hope of their goal of reforming society, even if by force. When Narumi notices this, is angers her so much she murders all of them in cold blood, believing them to be beyond redemption. As a final note, Narumi's violent nature and lust for bloodshed (and lest not forget her weird obsession with Makoto) is also made all the more tragic when you remember she's literally just a 14 year old kid with not a lot of life experience. For someone to be this far gone at such a young age is pretty depressing, but it also provides me with a lot of great writing opportunities, and god damn it she isn't a fun character to write.

#04: Mukuro Ikusaba.

I could pretty much just copy/paste the basic things I said about Monaca's personal conflict for Mukuro, but on a much more extreme level. This is something that I plan on actually branching on later down the line, but Mukuro's backstory and reason why she has a presence here is briefly mentioned by Sayaka in one post. To sum up what she said, when the Foundation were first starting to use the machines to bring back the victims of the first killing game, Makoto was the one who suggested possibly bringing Mukuro back, something that understandably, his classmates initially were against. However, at the time, Kyoko was still new to being the Foundation Chairwoman, and Makoto very much pressed the issue with her. Kyoko eventually agreed to the resurrection, but in exchange, any and all actions committed by the soldier, most notably any treacherous or bad ones, would subsequently be Makoto's responsibility. Of course, as you can imagine, Makoto accepted these terms, and Mukuro was resurrected. For a while afterwards, many were very wary of her presence, and most didn't outright accept her as a member of the Foundation, even when the Remnants of Despair officially signed up. What you have to remember is that Mukuro wasn't really brainwashed into helping Junko, at least not in the same way that the Remnants were. Most of what she did for Junko is what she did willingly, but Makoto felt that in reality, Mukuro was just another one of Junko's victims and she'd never known Hope in her life, which is why she turned out so chaotic, so his whole intention of reviving her was to redeem her honor, of which he was pretty much successful. The main trait of Mukuro's though that I tend to focus on, is arguably her most serious: her PTSD. Of all the characters who could have been hit hard with PTSD, it makes the most sense for it to be a soldier, and since the beginning of her revival, Mukuro has been cursed by the lingering ghost of her dead Despair sister. Junko's presence in her mind less drives Mukuro insane though, and simply makes her doubt herself and her presence, wondering if it was worth being revived, or whether or not she truly deserves to live. But regardless of how she feels, she's duty bound to the end, and still supports everyone unquestionably, especially towards those in her own branch being Makoto, her boss, the man who saved her, and of course her undeniable love interest, and Kuripa to whom she disciplines, but also acts as a mother/big sister figure to.

#03: Hajime Hinata.

It might just be me, but I feel like Hajime in particular is the fan fav in this blog. I feel he's shown up in more posts than any other character, which is fine by me given he's also one of my personal favorite characters, and is probably my favorite protagonist (it really changes depending on my mood, honestly, I think they're all as great as each other). The remnants of Despair's conflict is an obvious one that you commonly see in post-game fics such as this one, and in Survivor, and my personal opinion, Hajime is undoubtedly the one who has it the hardest. However, out of all of the characters in the series who HAVE trauma (and let's be real, that's undoubtedly a LOT of characters in both DR canon, and this blog) he's also undoubtedly the one who handles it the best. However, there is a limit to how much pressure he can take, and that causes him to lash out (like he did with Mahiru during Misfortune's Revenge, which I know we don't like to talk about but its the most notable example). He's been through a whole load of shit and the pressure is constantly crushing him like a gigantic boulder, yet he still forces himself to carry it. Outside of my own writing, Hajime has so many conflicting thoughts and trauma in other fics, and in Survivor, I don't intend to flat out copy them, but I do desire to live up to them. The reason why Hajime has so many burdens placed upon him, and as of Misfortune's Revenge now has double as many, yet is still able to keep going strong, is because he's no longer allowing himself to be weighed down by events that are in the past and out of his control. What makes his ideal unique, is that he has power, almost limitless amounts of it, but instead of focusing on what he can do with it, he's more conflicted and focused on what he CAN'T do, and changing the past is one thing he can't, and as of such doesn't focus on it. He only ever focuses on the present, and the future, and worries about that. And you've got to hand it to the guy, while it's definitely been better, his life is actually super good right now. He has at least 15 really great friends/found family members, a home on an island resort, an AI companion in his phone who will always help him out and support him, a smoking-hot red-haired girlfriend, a pretty good job and a lot more. For him, it's not simply a matter of abiding by the Foundation and fixing the chaos that he indirectly caused. It's also about the fear of losing what he has, and wanting to protect it.

#02: Ayumu Fujimori.

I've said this one or two times before, but I think Ayumu turned out spectacular, and when I eventually had to kill him off, I felt really bad about doing so. The main reason why I removed him, and why I currently don't have any plans to bring him back, is due to my future plans, having him around would make little to no sense. He serves mainly as a catalyst for the new phase of the story, a much darker one, and with his death, we enter that phase. I know many people are worried about it, but it's not just Ayumu's reason for being in the story that makes him great. While it isn't obvious right away, the main character that I was trying to portray with him, is that he's basically the darker side of Hajime. The two of them share very similar traits in character, personality and backstory. Some notable points would be

Both of them are incredibly self-doubtful, and that self-doubt caused them to become Ultimate Hopes.

Both of them once held huge admiration for a powerful group of people. For Hajime it was Hope's Peak and for Ayumu it was the Japanese Government

Said power called them useless, which led to their transformation

Both have pretty sad backstories, which involve two different types of cruel parents and family's.

They both have a best friend who likes to sleep.

Said best friend ended up dying horribly right in front of them, with them both unable to do anything about it, which eventually leads them both to go insane and make some bad decisions.

Though their methods differ, ultimately, they both want the same thing: a brighter future for their friends and the people they love

Ayumu might be a threat, and an antagonist, but he doesn't really count as a "villain" per se. At the core, he's basically just a misguided young man, who the world treated like shit, so he just wants to get back at it. He's also an influential figure, pulling many people into his fight, and gaining many supporters outside of his friends in the UUV. For the short time he was on the blog, he was an absolute BLAST to write, and you can damn sure bet I'm going to miss him.

#01: Kuripa Kurafto.

This is undoubtedly the riskiest part of this list, especially since we're talking about an OC here, but I also think a lot of you guys saw this coming. I can understand why some of you might disagree with me on this placement, but I'll tell you now, if you're unimpressed, trust me, I am barely scratching the surface of Kuripa's character. As of such, I have to go on this based off of what's already known about him. His whole character I feel comes full circle at the end of the Ultra Despair Gang arc, in which the first monumental event in the blog actually happens: him killing Haiji Towa by stabbing him in the gut and sending him falling to his death. This is then followed by a speech to Makoto, Komaru, Toko and Byakuya, which basically lays out the key part of Kuripa's character, being his ideals. Every protagonist in Danganronpa goes by a certain ideal that contrasts that of their enemies. For Makoto, it's Hope, for Hajime, it's Future, and for Shuichi it's truth. Kuripa is the complete reverse, being a protagonist that represents Despair. He's not outright a villain, or even a generally bad guy, but he definitely has some apparent darkness to him, and is also incredibly violent when at the peak of rage. Of course, it all stems from a huge event in his life, the murder of his little sister Kotoko by the hands of Matta Gyalusetsu, which has led to his over-arcing conflict: his desire to find Matta and kill him as revenge. I tend to hate characters in stories who have the "My Sister is Dead" archetype or trope, but the main reason is because most characters who have that JUST have that, and for Kuripa that's something I'm trying to avoid. One of the most important parts of Kuripa's character is the contrast between his dark, almost psychopathic side that believes murder is a suitable way to indefinitely solve a problem, and his regular self, who to put simply, is a complete and total clown. He's like a walking meme, and makes a total fool out of himself, either through just being a mindless tomfool, a playful perv, or a loveable idiotic otaku. Still, his presence is indeed important to everyone around him, especially seen through his interactions with Makoto, Kibin, Mukuro, Uchui, Kokichi, The Kyojin's and the High Roller staff. This is another thing in regards to Kuripa's conflict that is quite saddening to. Similar to Hajime, as things currently stand, Kuripa has an excellent life. He's a successful animator who makes a lot of money from his work, he enjoys his time at the Future Foundation and really looks up to both Makoto and Mukuro who both treat him with a reciprocated amount of respect, he gets to work in tangent with his best friend, he has many pals, some of which are part of an anime club, and on top of it all, he has a cute girlfriend who playfully flirts back and forth with him all the time. He has everything a guy could possibly ever want, but due to his one track mind, he can never be satisfied knowing Kotoko's killer is still out there, and he will do whatever it takes to avenge her...even if he needs to cut a few people down to get it...

//Doing this kind of self-reflective character analysis is pretty refreshing and fun to be honest, although, doing it makes it sound like I have a big head, and am complementary of my own writing where I know many might disagree with my techniques and opinions. You're free to, believe me, but please keep any criticism constructive.

-Mod

#tenko chabashira #kokichi ouma #monaca towa #akira tsuchiya #mikan tsumiki #narumi osone #mukuro ikusaba #hajime hinata #ayumu fujimori #kuripa kurafto #self reflection

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