#astromech socket

[sw5w]

Nope

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:51:32 - 01:51:33

Could the unidentified symbols here be "kill marks" based on concept art of the Vulture droid starfighters? (Seen here in concept art by Doug Chiang) Maybe the N-1 was built and painted before the CGI Vulture droid design was finalized?

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

“Red Lines” pt.5

Ryio Chuchi x Commander Fox x Reader x Sergeant Hound

The air in your apartment was thick with the scent of fresh caf and polished metal. VX-7 was cataloging cargo manifests aloud, you were buried in holo-messages from your homeworld, and your youngest handmaiden, Ila, was struggling with the administrative mess of requisitions.

“I’ll just send R9 to the Archives for the Senatorial batch codes,” Ila muttered, mostly to herself. “It’s just a short run…”

You looked up briefly. “You think he’ll make it back without committing at least one act of domestic terrorism?”

Ila gave you an awkward smile and rushed off.

⸻

Sending R9 on an errand alone was a calculated risk. One that your youngest handmaiden, Ila, had made with the hopeful naivety of youth and a fondness for your temperamental astromech. All he had to do was retrieve a storage drive containing encrypted senatorial files from a private archive tucked down in the lower industrial levels. Straightforward. Simple.

But R9 was anything but simple.

The moment he rolled through the grime-slicked service streets of 1313, he began vocalizing loud, critical remarks about the state of the infrastructure, the scent of unwashed bodies, and something particularly crude about the corrosion level of nearby durasteel. He drew attention — not the good kind.

Three local thugs lounging near a loading bay watched the little droid trundle by with a mechanic’s socket extended and whirring ominously, his dome swiveling like a watchdog.

“Ey,” one muttered. “You see that paint job? That’s Senate-polished. He’s gotta be running something pricey.”

“He’s alone,” said another. “Strip him, crack him open, see what’s in the chassis.”

R9, having just pinged the encrypted server inside the archive’s access hatch, paused. He rotated slowly, gave a low-pitched bwooooop of distaste, and — lacking any real weapons — activated the most infuriating response in his database.

He began blaring alarms. Loudly. Shrieking like a siren caught in a blender.

The thugs swore and lunged.

R9 took off — fast for a dome on treads, his body bobbing wildly as he careened down a freight ramp, shouting obscenities in binary, slamming into walls, flattening garbage bins. He clipped a cart full of dead power cells and launched half of it across the street.

The thugs followed, yelling threats and trying to cut him off through alleyways.

Grizzer’s low growl was the first sign.

Hound, half-distracted reading over a datapad update, looked up as the massiff’s ears perked sharply. His hand went to his blaster as he heard the unmistakable wailing of a security alarm — not from a building, but from a droid.

“Sounds like a distressed astromech,” his second said, already pivoting.

“R9,” Hound muttered. He didn’t even need confirmation.

The chaos hit them a second later — the droid burst from a side alley with grime on his dome and scorch marks on his shell, his wheels barely clinging to traction.

“Hold formation!” Hound barked.

The thugs following R9 didn’t see the Guard until they were within blaster range.

“Down!” came the command.

Blasters were raised. A few shots cracked through the air, warning only.

The gang scattered fast, melting into the deeper shadows, but not before a sharp standoff that lasted almost a full minute — one thug pulling a vibroblade, R9 running circles around him like a demon possessed until Grizzer lunged and sent the attacker screaming into a trash pile.

⸻

When the door chimed, you didn’t expect him.

Hound stood tall in the frame, helmet clipped to his belt, armor still dusty from the underlevels. Grizzer sat calmly at his feet. And behind him, looking thoroughly dented and gleefully unapologetic, was R9.

You blinked.

“Ila,” you called over your shoulder, “I believe you owe R9 a droid polish and a formal apology.”

R9 rolled in immediately like a conquering hero, dirt trailing behind him on your marble floor. Grizzer snorted.

“He’s fine,” Hound said. “Mouthy, but fine. I found him just before he got himself stripped down for parts by a couple of gutter rats.”

“Let me guess—he insulted them?”

“Repeatedly. Then played a fire alarm at full volume until every sentient on the block wanted him dead.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. “That does sound like him.”

But your smile faded when you caught the edge in Hound’s voice. There was tension, cold and bristling. You weren’t sure if it was anger or something else.

“Thank you,” you said. “For bringing him back.”

He nodded once. “I was in the area. And I figured you’d prefer him in one piece.”

Another beat of silence.

You stepped toward him slightly. “Hound… why haven’t I seen you?”

His eyes didn’t meet yours at first. But when they did, they weren’t cruel — just tired.

“Because watching you pine for someone who can’t see you hurts more than I expected.”

Your throat went tight. You reached for something to say, but Hound was already pulling his helmet back into place.

“I’m on duty,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t be here long.”

He turned to go. Grizzer hesitated, then followed, casting one last look back before disappearing into the hall.

You stood there for a long moment.

Then R9 gave a chirp, smug and seemingly amused, before trundling past you and knocking over a vase.

⸻

Fox stood in the small debriefing chamber just off the main barracks floor, arms crossed, his expression blank—but his thoughts anything but.

He was reviewing surveillance stills from the lower levels, a routine update Hound had submitted after a patrol skirmish. Normally he’d skim, mark, and move on.

But the last few images had him still.

R9. Hound. Grizzer.

And you—Senator [Y/N], barefoot in your apartment doorway, accepting the return of your droid with what looked suspiciously like a smile. Not the tight, senatorial smirk you wore in chambers—but something gentler. Something real.

Fox exhaled sharply through his nose.

Behind him, the door hissed open.

Thorn entered, cocking a brow as he noted what was on screen. “You really need to stop watching footage of her like it’s surveillance and not a highlight reel.”

Fox didn’t answer.

Thorn leaned on the wall beside him, arms crossed. “So Hound saw her, huh?”

“Hound was returning her astromech. That’s his job.”

Thorn grinned faintly. “Sure. And it didn’t bother you at all.”

Fox’s jaw flexed. “It’s not my business.”

“You keep saying that,” Thorn said, pushing off the wall and gesturing to the monitor. “But you’re in here on your own time reviewing droid patrol footage like she’s some high-level security threat.”

Fox turned off the screen.

“She’s a senator,” he muttered.

“And you’re obsessed,” Thorn finished for him, laughing under his breath.

Before Fox could muster a retort, the door buzzed again. This time, Chuchi entered with her usual quiet grace, a wrapped package in hand. She paused slightly when she saw Thorn—though only Fox noticed the way her eyes flicked toward the screen before it went dark.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said softly.

“Not at all,” Thorn said with a little too much amusement. “I was just leaving. Commander, you might want to check in with Hound before he writes another glowing report about your senator.”

Fox shot him a look sharp enough to cut durasteel. Thorn winked at Chuchi and left.

She stepped forward and offered the package. “It’s for your men. Some spicebread from Pantora—local tradition after a successful operation.”

Fox accepted it with a nod. “Very kind of you.”

There was a silence. Chuchi’s eyes lingered a moment too long on his face.

“I heard about Hound’s incident in the lower levels,” she said, too casually. “I’m glad everyone was unharmed.”

Fox’s grip tightened on the box.

“Do you think it’s safe,” she continued, “for a senator to be sending a droid into those levels alone?”

Fox’s expression gave nothing away. “Not my place to say. Hound handled it.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “You seem…off.”

“I’m fine.”

“Mm.” She stepped a little closer. “You’ve been avoiding me. Us.”

He looked at her finally, and this time it wasn’t blank—it was confused, conflicted, and tired of trying to not be any of those things.

“There’s too much attention already on all of us,” he said. “The Jedi…”

“Yes,” Chuchi said gently. “But I think the Jedi are looking in the wrong place.”

That hung in the air a beat too long.

Fox didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Chuchi, ever patient, simply gave him a quiet smile. “I won’t press. But you’re not as unreadable as you think, Commander.”

She left.

Fox remained frozen, staring at the closed door, still holding the untouched box of spicebread.

⸻

Thorn leaned against the wall, arms folded. Hound approached from the turbolift, helmet under his arm, Grizzer trailing beside him.

“Tell me you didn’t miss that,” Thorn muttered as they passed each other.

“Miss what?”

“Love triangle’s becoming a rectangle. Fox is going to implode.”

Hound didn’t answer.

But his jaw clenched, and Grizzer gave a low, warning growl.

⸻

Fox didn’t sleep.

He hadn’t slept in days, not really—not with the nagging image of your soft voice, your hand brushing Hound’s shoulder, the droid you laughed with being returned by another man. Not with Chuchi’s careful smiles, the subtle intimacy in her glances, the scent of Pantoran spicebread still clinging to his uniform.

He wasn’t a man who acted on impulse.

But tonight…

Fox walked. Uniform on. Helmet in hand. Through the corridors. Down the levels. Past the Senate district guard post. Eyes forward. Purposeful.

He didn’t stop until he stood outside your door.

He pressed the chime.

Inside, you sat at your desk, still working. Your handmaiden Maera had just retired for the evening, and Ila was curled up near the sitting area, half-asleep with a datapad in hand.

R9 made a whirring snort from the corner, annoyed at the interruption. VX-7, ever composed, silently stood by the window, processing civic forms.

When the door buzzed, you stood slowly, raising a brow. You hadn’t ordered anything.

You opened the door.

And there he was. Fox.

You blinked. “Commander.”

He looked…tense. The usual stoicism wasn’t there. This was something different.

“I need to talk to you,” he said. His voice was low. Not unkind. Just…controlled.

You stepped aside, letting him in. “What’s wrong?”

He paced a few steps inside, as if figuring out what to say. Helmet still in hand, shoulders stiff.

“I saw Hound return your droid,” he said.

You smirked faintly. “Jealous?”

He looked at you sharply, but didn’t deny it.

“He’s a good man,” you said instead. “You warned him about me?”

“I warned him not to get attached.”

“Mm. But he already is.”

Fox’s jaw worked, his eyes finally locking onto yours. “So are you.”

The air stilled.

“And what about you?” you asked, stepping closer. “Still pretending to be the untouchable commander while two senators orbit you like moons?”

He didn’t answer.

You chuckled. “You’re a fool, Fox. Chuchi looks at you like you’re salvation. I look at you like you’re the problem. And you—you act like none of it matters.”

“It does,” he snapped.

Silence. His own words surprised him. He stared at you, as if realizing them for the first time.

You stepped closer again, close enough to feel the tension rolling off him in waves. “Then why do you act like it doesn’t?”

“I don’t know how to want anything,” he said. “Not like this. Not when it’s you. Or her. Or—stars, it’s too much.”

You softened. Just slightly.

“I never asked you to pick me,” you whispered.

“But I can’t ignore it anymore.”

Then—

Knock knock.

Another chime at the door.

You froze. Fox turned.

You opened the door.

Hound stood there. Grizzer sat loyally at his heel.

He took one look at Fox inside your apartment and stiffened.

“I was passing by,” he said coolly. “Wanted to check in after…the other day. With R9.”

You looked between them—Fox rigid behind you, Hound standing tall, eyes sharper than you’d ever seen.

“I see I’m late.”

Fox stepped forward. “You should go.”

“Why?” Hound said calmly. “She didn’t ask you to come here.”

“Neither did she ask you.”

You stepped in before they could start tearing chunks out of each other. “Both of you. Enough.”

But neither man budged.

Fox’s voice was lower now, quiet. “She deserves someone who won’t be swayed by charm and anger.”

“She deserves someone who doesn’t run from his own damn feelings,” Hound bit back.

You blinked. Both of them stared at you. Waiting. Wanting. Two men, so very different—one a tightly wound hurricane of order and responsibility, the other a grounded storm with loyalty that ran deeper than bone.

You exhaled slowly, heart loud in your chest.

“I need time,” you said.

Fox nodded stiffly. Hound glanced away, jaw ticking.

Fox left without another word.

Hound gave you a last look before following, Grizzer trotting after him.

You closed the door.

VX-7 muttered something about emotional inefficiency. R9 beeped threateningly.

Ila stirred from her nap. “…What did I miss?”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Just two men, three messes, and a very complicated heart.”

R9 beeped threateningly at the wall, still angry about something. VX-7 stood like a loyal monument in the corner, staring at you with polite judgment.

Ila peeked at you from her half-dozing state on the couch.

“Do you want tea?” she offered meekly.

You didn’t answer. Just wandered to the wide window, arms crossed, pulse still fluttering in your neck.

Commander Fox.

Sergeant Hound.

You weren’t supposed to care.

This was never about feelings.

This was about power. About leverage. About proving that you could make the untouchable clone commander look at you like he might burn alive from it. About winning—because Chuchi always did, and this time, you refused to be second.

You wanted to make him yours because he seemed unreachable.

You were chasing victory, not romance.

Weren’t you?

And yet…

Fox had stood in your apartment like a man on the verge of something he didn’t have the words for. Hound had looked at you like he already knew.

You didn’t ask for this.

You weren’t a schoolgirl with crushes. You were a senator who had survived warlords and assassination attempts. You had danced through political fires in stilettos and made corruption weep.

So why—why—did your chest ache as you stared out the window and thought of Hound’s eyes?

Why did the way he said “She didn’t ask you to come here” echo louder in your head than all of Fox’s arguments combined?

Why, when Hound left, did you feel like you’d just watched loyalty walk away from you?

Fox was the game.

Hound was something else.

Fox made you feel like you were fighting for the last piece of oxygen in a room slowly filling with smoke. Hound made you feel like there was still air left in the galaxy.

You sat down slowly on the armrest of the couch.

Ila brought over a cup of tea and set it down carefully. “You look… sad,” she said gently.

You let out a low breath. “I’m not sad.”

“Angry?”

“No.”

“Confused?”

You looked at her then. And said nothing.

VX-7 moved quietly to refill your data terminal with updates from the next day’s hearings. R9 rolled into the hallway to menace the janitorial droid.

And still, you sat there. Tea growing cold.

Fox was a competition.

So why did it feel like losing him might actually hurt?

And why, in all the chaos, was the one who saw you clearest still waiting—quietly, without pressure, without pride—and why hadn’t you chosen him yet?

You looked out the window again.

Maybe you weren’t afraid of choosing wrong.

Maybe… you were afraid of choosing right.

Because right meant letting someone close.

Right meant vulnerability.

Right meant Hound.

⸻

Previous Part | Next Part

[theknightofivanhoe]

The Republic naval hangar was packed with activity, alien and human maintenance crew and pilots tending to X, Y and A-wing fighters and more, astromech droids with colourful markings rolling on by, tinkering with the fighters with servo arms or fitted into the sockets of their respective spacecraft. Among all this hustle and bustle, two female aliens were walking side-by-side past workers, droids and fighter crew; Hera Syndulla and Ahsoka Tano. And right now, neither was able to resist the little glances they were sending each other.

Ahsoka just couldn’t get enough of how that fleece-collared jacket so snugly fit Hera’s lithe frame, whilst enhancing the sheer authority the tall, ravishingly gorgeous Twi’lek held over her fellow Republic military. Hera herself couldn’t keep herself from blushing at the way Ahsoka’s lips would morph into cocky little smirks, her orange face wreathed with white markings beaming with a playfulness she had never truly abandoned even after what she had gone through during conflicts against the Separatists and the Empire.

Something told both Republic pilot and force-wielder that the amount of times one had been eyeing the other as they walked on was increasing relentlessly. Not that they minded even the smallest bit. Twi’lek and Togruta were just itching to caress one another’s lekku, to pull at flight uniform and battle outfit, to kiss hungrily and possibly never part their rich, full lips. But right now, neither Ahsoka nor Hera could do any of these, not in the midst of all these people and droids around them. Boots clicking briskly across the floor, the deprivation left them simply starved for contact, yearning to sate the temptations tugging at them both physically and emotionally.

It was Ahsoka who quickly looked around herself, checking for any pilot or mechanic who might notice her and tuning into her Force sensitivity just to be sure. Now could be the right moment, so she decided to chance it.

Once they had reached a somewhat less-crowded part of the hangar, Ahsoka homed in on Hera, her round, plump derrière bulging under her orange bodysuit like a pair of ripe meilooruns clear in her sights and made her move. In one swift whoosh, Ahsoka gave Hera a quick, sharp smack on the bottom!

‘WHAP!’

The sting of Ahsoka’s hand on Hera’s buttocks made her gasp and freeze mid-walk, her face turning as hot as an overloaded power converter! She turned to Ahsoka with her mouth agape in pure shock, the Togruta gleefully smirking back at her with her eyes twinkling wickedly. After a second (or two) of this paralysis, her bum stinging from that slap, Hera felt her lips tugging at the edges. Next she and Ahsoka ended up bursting into fits of giggles, their laughter now impossible to suppress for much longer. The two looked away as they tried with all their might to compose themselves, but at this point, it was like water falling from a collapsed dam. A military hangar was by far a less-than-appropriate place to perform such intimate gestures, and Hera knew she could easily call Ahsoka out on this. But she didn’t, grinning back at the Togruta who still wore a smirk of unapologetic mischief. Even Ahsoka knew that neither she nor the Twi’lek general could deny just how much they relished the scandalousness of that slap she had dared to do. Not wanting to raise any suspicions, the two resumed their journey through the hangar even as they attempted to wrestle down their grins and sniggering. Apart from some brief turning of heads from pilots or mechanics walking past, it did seem to Ahsoka and Hera that they might have - just might have - got away with that little prank. As far as Ahsoka could see, Kanan, Force rest his soul, had always been on to something with Hera, in more ways than one…

[trblshot]

Kksssshhhh!

Vrōu, vrãu!

♫

The clash of plasma was always cause for alarm and awe. Especially when that plasma was controlled in length, and emitted from within a metal hilt. Darth Convens was aware of that when he assembled his fearsome red-bladed saber. The guest in this strange galaxy, Technician-Adjutant Nero Dakkar, only having learned the history secondhand. Being armed with a dead Jedi's green lightsaber.

"You waste your potential, explorer." hissed Convens. "Join me, and together we shall use every ship, every droid and blaster at our disposal properly. Sentient peoples worlds over shall finally have meaning in their apathetic lives!"

Nero grunted as he clashed sabers with Convens. Front-kicking him away as they dueled. Convens with one-handed swings of moderate speed and force. Nero, with heavy-handed swings that felt more appropriate for a baseball bat, as it rebounded off of the red plasma repeatedly. Nero accelerating to compensate for his lack of technique. Pressing the Dark Jedi. Trying to stave off the evil influence being exerted. The temptation for something that would exploit this galaxy, and others.

Just then, a group walked into the room.

Yes, it had to be the friends Nero had made while he was in this galaxy! They were here to support him in his time of need-- wait, no. That wasn't even remotely what was happening here:

♫

That wasn't his Ortolan chum Dex Bem-- that was Dex's sleemo brother, Ronneb! That idiot tried to get Nero to pay countless fees when he was staying on Nar Shadaa.

"Don't give into the dark side!"

And that wasn't his smuggler ally Ran Rene, but the corporate stooge-- Jan Dice! She'd once stolen a starship from Nero and his friends, leaving them to fend for themselves for a while.

"Thanks to your generosity, I could start a profitable new business using that ship you gifted me! That's the kind of galaxy we must foster!"

There was also M3-F3, a droid that kept blabbing to the nearest Stormtroopers, constantly leaving behind the more preferable astromech nicknamed Syntak. If anyone could be counted upon to give the Imperial Remnants a fighting chance, it was that idiot. And in lieu of Ecklantha, the Jedi Hermit who not only trained Nero, but gave her experienced counsel to the entire crew-- there instead stood the insulting Wini Trab, a force sensitive that was trying to start a cult around her often cheerfully wrongful interpretation of its will. These and other buffoons were now an audience to the lightsaber duel.

"I'll hack into this cruiser and set the self-destruct. Thus, we shall end this evil once and for all!"

"The Force speaks, and it says you can change everything right here, RIGHT now! A shining new golden age awaits, my student!"

♫

Nero started to grit his teeth. How dare these idiots talk like that, as if they weren't the ones impeding all that progress! Finally, Nero traded sabers with Convens. His eye sockets becoming gaunt, and his pupils embracing a sickly yellow color as he leapt to swing, cleaving M3-F3 into several pieces, and repeatedly stabbing Wini Trab in the lower back, before kicking her over the railing. A less favored smuggler was fumbling for a thermal detonator, but not before Nero threw a bout of Force Lightning that detonated the explosive pre-emptively.

At last, Nero cornered Ronneb, Jan Dice and some other stragglers that were trying to open ventilation shaft covers, or locked doors. Darth Convens cackled.

"Rise... Darth Stigate!"

The fiend laughed while the newly christened Nero let off a bloodthirsty howl, and took a swing of his master's red saber that seemed to wail as it sailed through the air towards the next mass of flesh that the former Technician-Adjutant had hated so.

And any that had not bothered to come all the way out here would be hunted down afterwards...

[techniiciian]

“how’d you get a black eye?”

Matt glances up at @galaxycrxss from where he crouches on the floor. a sheepish smile spreads onto his face causing his good eye to crinkle. oil stained fingers tap twice on the dented top of his chaotic astromech.

"he got a little too excited to see me." he eyes the droid with affection before shaking his head with a warm laugh. nothing like taking a droid to the eye socket, at least they both had marks now.though a bruised eye might take a little bit longer to heal than removing a dent.

his attentions turn back to the clone, pink embarrassment coloring his cheeks as he asks, "do you happen to have any bacta to spare? i could use a patch up."

[jeynepoolelovebot]

[ID: Fanart of Star Wars: A New Hope, showing Luke Skywalker in his orange Rebel flight suit, with his helmet under his arm. He is smiling brightly. Behind him is his X-wing, with R2-D2 being transported up to the astromech socket. A Rebel mechanic is sitting at the top of the ladder next to the cockpit, and bright lights from the ship are shining all around. End ID]

first day at school 🚀

[light-the-spark-of-dawn]

Branching Paths: A CYOA Star Wars Tale

Act I: Chapter 1- The Padawan

Flashing red lights and high pitched wails jerk you awake and within half a second you are on your feet, lightsaber gripped tightly in your hand and the blazing blade ready in a defensive stance. It takes a second for your mind to catch up to your body and recognize that you're in your small personal quarters aboard The Adamant.

Three long years of war have honed your reflexes to razor sharpness, but they've also frayed your nerves. The lights and noise that awoke you are not blasterfire or the screams of the dying, merely klaxon alarms signaling that the Venator is under attack. You press the activator plate on your lightsaber to power off the blade and take a moment to collect yourself and try releasing the tension within you into the Force.

Your efforts are interrupted by the cold durasteel floor bucking wildly beneath your bare feet, sending you sprawling. As if on cue, you hear the chiming of your comm from where you'd left it on your tiny desk. When you pick up the call, a deep voice intones:

"A Separatist cruiser has just jumped into the system and is firing on us. Meet me at the main hangar as soon as you can."

A CIS attack certainly explains the alarms and tremors, but what are they doing here in the Ranagath system? It's a backwater of the Outer Rim with no strategic value. The Adamant only stopped here temporarily while its hyperdrive underwent maintenance. Could this enemy cruiser have been pursuing you?

There's no point in wondering about it right now though, not while the Separatists are trying to shoot you and the rest of the 42nd Legion out of the sky. You quickly pull on your boots and clip your lightsaber to your belt before hurrying through the hallways of The Adamant to the main hangar.

Master Kar Vanora is already there, directing clone pilots to battle stations. As usual, he cuts an impressive figure, standing a full head taller than the troopers. His voice is steady and implacably calm, but you can sense through your Force bond that he's feeling unusually stressed. He turns to face you as you approach.

"Good, you're here. Admiral Tabrij reports that our shields are holding strong for now, but we're still being swarmed with vulture droids and tri-fighters. You and I are going to thin out their numbers and run interference while Commander Oaker and his squadron take out the cruiser's turbolasers. I've already prepped your starfighter, I'll be with you as soon as mine's finished fueling."

You nod and run to where your purple Eta-2 Actis Interceptor is waiting. An astromech droid of matching color, R3-V1, whistles a greeting from where she's socketed into the wing. As you strap yourself into the cockpit and take off, you see the skies above Ranagath practically boiling with ARC-170s and Separatist droidships. It's a terrifying sight to behold, but you slam your control yoke forward and rocket into the fray.

Almost immediately, several tri-fighters lock onto you and fire their cannons. R3-V1 shrieks a warning but you're already reacting, tilting your starfighter just enough that the lances of deadly energy zip harmlessly past you. You pull back hard on the control yoke and twist, the battle whirling past the transparisteel of your cockpit canopy in a dizzying blur that most beings would find incomprehensible.

But you are not most beings. You are a Jedi, and the Force is your ally. It nudges you at just the right moment to pull out of your wild spin and fire your own cannons, right into the incoming tri-fighters so that they atomize in explosions so intense even the shrapnel is disintegrated.

"Nicely done." Master Vanora's voice sounds flattened by the starfighter's inner comms. His own Interceptor, which is painted a darker shade of purple than yours, flies past. "Oaker and his men are targeting the far turbolaser and need backup. Follow me."

You and Master Vanora weave through the tumult of battle to where Commander Oaker and a squadron of clone pilots are taking potshots at a turbolaser. Vulture droids are preventing them from doing any significant damage. Not for long though, as you and your master begin picking them off with precise cannon fire.

With the vulture droids' attention now turned away from them, the clones are able to focus their efforts on the turbolaser and destroy it. They move onto the next closest one, and Master Vanora follows after them. You are about to as well, when you notice something odd.

"Master." You say, activating the comms. "A Neimoidian shuttle just launched from the cruiser and is heading down to the surface. I think the Separatist commander is trying to escape. Also, the hangar it left from looks to be jammed open, and the surrounding guns are destroyed. We could infiltrate the command center and shut down the droids."

"Negative, it could be a trap." Master Vanora snaps. "Don't worry about the shuttle, whoever's on it won't be able to leave the system as long as we disable the cruiser."

"But we could end the battle faster by forcing a surrender." You try to argue, but your master cuts you off.

"Now is not the time to argue, Padawan! Ignore the distractions and focus on the mission!" The comms shut off with finality, leaving you to stew in your thoughts.

This isn't the first time you and Master Vanora have argued. It happens more often than is normal for master and Padawan teams, not that the two of you are a normal pair. Your first master, Feemor, died in the Battle of Geonosis when you were sixteen, far too young for Knighthood. Kar had felt obligated to complete your training, since he was Feemor's first apprentice. The two of you have tried your best with each other, and you've achieved great successes together, but where there should be harmony there is instead often chaos.

For the most part, you trust Master Vanora's instincts. But you can feel through your bond with him that he feels distracted by something right now. Beyond this however, the Force is clouded, as it has been for years now.

So this is a Choose Your Own Adventure story, but the choices will be dictated by poll results. "You" are a Jedi Padawan in the final days of the Galactic Republic, though of course you don't know that yet. The decisions "you" make will determine whether you survive Order 66 and what you do in a post-Jedi galaxy...

I did create an OC to serve as the "default" for the POV character that can be revealed, but if the majority of people want, I can also run a series of polls to decide their species, gender, lightsaber color/form, etc. Alternatively, I can try to write them with as little distinguishing details as possible to better fit the CYOA genre.

I'll leave that up to this strawpoll since Tumblr only allows one poll per post.

[outercrasis]

The Distance - Ch 9

Pairing: Din Djarin x Pilot F!Reader (reader is petite/no other descriptors)

Word Count/Rating: 2.5k / T (will become M/E in later chapters)

Warnings: none really, just some technobabble

Summary: Din has another surprise in store for you.

Previous || Series Masterlist || Next

You wake up naturally the next morning. Leaves soften the harshness of the sun's early rays, dulling the light before it reaches you. Sleep leaves easily and you feel ready to start your day. 

It’s an easy jump from your hammock to the forest floor. The morning air has a slight refreshing chill – the sun not yet fully heating up the planet’s surface.

Back at the Chimera, you grab some breakfast and find that Grogu has already woken up and snuck out of the bedroom. He patiently waits for his morning meal, sitting on a cargo box and blinking at you. You glance at the door to Din’s room. Not sure of the last time you saw him have a full night’s rest you decide to not disturb him and take Grogu outside with you. It's already beginning to warm up.

You lay a blanket out on the grass and sit, slowly enjoying the rest of your breakfast. Grogu is interested in getting your attention, but soon finds himself more than content to play with Tex instead. Cleaning all the muck out from Tex's wheels later will be well worth it.

Stomach full and content with the kid's safety, you dive into the datapad you brought out, filled to the brim with information on the Chimera and N1. You’re glad to see that there’s nothing in Tex’s diagnostic report that suggests another part affecting the flux stabilizers. They probably just need a good clean sooner than expected – additional build up from the added weight of the N1 getting hauled around. 

The Chimera has an otherwise healthy readout. There's a few parts you'll keep an eye out for at the next shop you come across, wanting to have them on hand, but it's nothing pressing.

Now you can get to what you're really excited for. The N1's schematics. You've recently been pouring over the old blueprints and documents you'd gathered on the N1 model, refreshing your memory on the intricate machinery. 

The Naboo engineers were truly innovators. The way they fit everything in like a jigsaw puzzle, streamlining the starfighter design and improving on it in nearly every way. It’s nearly perfect – a showpiece and a devastatingly effective weapon. You’re dying to see the changes Din made to the ship.

The change to the astromech socket was obvious from when you first laid eyes on the ship, but seeing the way the life support system was rerouted to the second area is another work of art. It’s a closed loop system with the main cockpit, ionic filtration keeping the air clean for both parties. The way the new ducts were added looked like they were always meant to be there.

The twin J-type engines are still intact despite the front cones being removed to expose the engine core. In addition to improved aesthetics, the streamlined look has the benefit of assisting with the ship’s speed and aerodynamics. It’s clear that speed is what Din was looking for – the cryogenic density combustion booster on the rear thruster unlike any modification you’ve ever seen before. Whatever mechanic worked on this ship knows their stuff for it to even work.

You audibly gasp when you discover the kineso-switch in the N1’s schematics. That is definitely not part of the stock model’s features. You’ve only ever seen a switch like that in the schematics of podracers or battlecruisers – the most reckless and most capable of handling that level of power. It’s hard to believe it’s even on the N1. Looking closer, you notice the cerium quantum limiter attached, which must be the only thing keeping the ship from shredding into pieces every time it’s used.

You continue to pour over the N1's readout. You make some notes here and there about some maintenance or possible improvements, but overall the ship is a beauty. Din took an already fast ship and souped it up to be one of the fastest in the galaxy – even without the hyperdrive booster ring. 

As distracted as you are, you don't notice the time slip past. At some point Tex and Grogu make their way back over to you and Grogu cuddles up beside you for a small sunny nap. You take the opportunity to bounce some ideas off Tex, trying to plan out a workable maintenance and upgrade schedule for both ships in your care.

You haven't given much thought as to where Din might be until you hear his footsteps on the Chimera's ramp. Looking in his direction, your mouth goes completely dry.

Din's at the end of the ramp completely devoid of his beskar, save for the helmet, casually rolling up the sleeves of his tight black undershirt. For a moment you think you're hallucinating.

There are days where you nearly forget that underneath all the armor he’s just a man. A broad, terrifying, warrior of a man, but a man all the same. Without the beskar he seems more real, more tangible. He isn’t just some impenetrable suit of armor this way, he’s soft and exposed. 

That's not to say he isn't still a large or intimidating figure. The beskar might add to the effect, but he's clearly still a force of his own. There's no hiding the wide set of his shoulders or strength of his arms without his usual layers to keep them covered up.

It makes sense to you now how he’s able to move so silently with his flashy second skin. All of his movements are fluid and natural – as though he’s never uncertain about what his next step will be. Watching the way his body moves is intoxicating. You hardly even realize that you’re staring until the t-visor turns to face you.

You look away quickly despite your obvious stare and clear your throat. You hope you can play it off as simple shock and not the gawking it had been. You look back to the datapad, trying to appear as engrossed as you had been a few moments before. The information on there might as well all be in Wookie now for all that you're processing it.

Din’s footsteps approach but you decide to ignore him. It might be best to not say anything until he does. 

He nudges you with his foot. “Up," he says.

You easily relent and tilt your head up towards him. He fills your vision, blocking out the sun with his broad frame. His arms are casually folded over his chest and you're overcome with two thoughts.

The first is that this is the most skin you've ever seen Din show at once. Both hands and forearms are bare and for a moment you consider asking if it's sacrilegious for him. You think better of it.

The second is the realization that Din has tattoos. You didn't notice them from a distance, but they're entirely impossible to miss now.

Heavy black ink decorates both arms and runs up underneath where his shirt still covers. The designs are symmetrical, feeling reminiscent of the appearance of his armor. Heavy, bold, and sharp lines with carefully designed curves. You want to reach out and trace them with your finger.

"Trying out a new look, big guy?" you tease, doing your best to distract from the multitude of thoughts currently racing through your mind. 

“Beskar seemed like a bad idea for what I have planned for you today.” That peaks your interest.

“What's that?"

It can't be blaster practice again. He'd left the armor on for that – a smart move all things considered. A stray blaster bolt wasn’t likely with the range he set up, but there’s always the possibility. 

“You’ll see, come on.”

You get the sense Din is enjoying being cryptic with you. He did it yesterday with the blasters and now today with whatever he has planned. It’s cute – there’s a lightness to it that you’ve never seen from him before. You refrain from telling him I told you so about this little break.

About a hundred yards from the Chimera, Din suddenly stops. Turning around, he slides his suspenders off his shoulders and asks, “Are you ready, can'gal?”

You have no idea what he’s talking about. And why is he getting further undressed? The two of you standing in a random part of the field – no range set up, no objects nearby in the grass, just you, an almost completely beskar-less Din, and the dirt beneath your feet. 

“Ready for what?”

Din taps his chest. “Hit me.”

You can’t help but laugh. He has to be joking. “What?” you manage to wheeze out.

He doesn’t seem bothered by your laughter, but he does seem a bit more serious than before. Din taps his chest again. “Hit me.”

You stop laughing, narrowing your eyes at him. His helmet gives away nothing, but he must mean it. Din wants you to punch him for some reason. You move slowly, just in case, and square up. You pull back your dominant hand and punch him as hard as you can, right in the center of his chest. He doesn’t even move and now your hand hurts. 

“Is that it?” he asks, his voice calm and even.

“What's that supposed to mean?” you ask, shaking out your hand.

“It means you’re going to have to try harder.”

You set your jaw and square up again. You throw another punch with the same results. For a chest that looks soft under his tight undershirt, it’s shockingly solid. It’s annoying how unphased he is by your attempts.

You start to square up again when Din reaches out and takes your hand. The unexpected touch makes you freeze for just a moment. His hand easily engulfs yours, but his hold is gentle.

“Your fist is too loose,” he tells you. Carefully, he repositions your fist, bringing your thumb in tight over your fingers. “Now, try again.”

You steel yourself, keeping your hand how Din positioned it. You punch him again. He still doesn’t move, but this one at least forces a grunt of air out of his lungs. 

“Better.”

Din has you keep using him as a personal punching bag. You'd worry if it seemed like your punches had any affect on him at all. There's the occasional grunt, but that's about all the feedback you get. He's a statue. An annoyingly large, beefy, and warm statue.

After a while, he must decide you have the basic form down because he begins to lightly spar. Din throws out simple punches here and there, forcing you to block and making note of what you do to fight back. None of your punches are landing anymore – his are. 

He’s obviously holding back, only using a fraction of his strength, but the punches still hurt. As he slowly tears you down physically, he critiques you verbally, telling you when you’re too slow, too obvious, and too open. He takes advantage of these flaws, attacking you until you fall backwards, tripping over your own feet.

Your chest heaves as you look up at him. He barely glances at your miserable shape and says, “Get up.”

“Maker, give me a second,” you spit back. You hate this. He’s not even being mean about it, just distanced and calculating. You want to scream in frustration. There's none of the elation you felt at yesterday's target practice. 

You slowly get back up from the dirt and it starts all over again. Din makes small adjustments to your form, capitalizes on your weak spots, remains unaffected by any lucky shots you manage to land, and before you know it your backside is hitting the ground again. You stay there for a moment, reveling in your misery.

“K’atini!" Din shouts at you. "I don’t know how you even made it off Rishi."

You don’t recognize the first word he said, but you don’t like the tone in which he said it, and the reminder of your fight on Rishi just feels like a low blow. He’s not the kind, patient teacher you had while shooting yesterday. With hand-to-hand combat Din has become testy and you aren’t even sure why because you haven’t landed a punch in what seems like forever.

You force yourself back up to your feet and face him again. This time as you fight, Din stops his constant critique. Instead, he just aims for your weak spots, taking advantage of all the ways in which you leave yourself open.

“Cut it out!” you yell, barely blocking another punch.

“Nar dralshy’a, can’gal!” Din shouts back. You don’t think he notices that he isn’t speaking Basic.

You continue your attempts to land a single punch, anything, to no avail. It’s maddening. You’re trying your hardest, your absolute best, and it’s useless against him. You can hardly figure out what you’re doing wrong as you try to prevent further hits from landing. 

He isn’t going easy on you anymore. You know his punches still aren’t as hard as they could be, but they’re faster now, more complex, and barely giving you time to react to one before the other is flying at you. 

The final straw comes when a punch comes too close to knocking the air clean out of your lungs. No one can call this sparring or teaching anymore. You’ve had enough. You barely manage a block, turn on your heel, and march in the direction of the Chimera.

“We’re not done,” Din calls after you, his voice not leaving room for argument. You don’t look back. He's stupid if he thinks that'll work on you. His hand wraps around your wrist, not too hard, but enough to pull you back towards him. 

“I said, we aren’t done.” He drops your wrist as you turn back around. At least he isn’t willing to give you a totally unfair fight.

“Fuck off! I’m done, alright? I’m tired and my body hurts and I am done,” you shout.

Stepping forward, Din moves quickly to block your path. You stop short, staring angrily into his helmet where you assume behind it he’s staring right back. 

In a pattern that seems to be repeating itself over and over today, Din is unrelenting. You try to pass him again only for him to block you once more. You've never hated his brick wall of a body more.

You can feel the rage in every fiber of your being. Blood pounds in your ears and your muscles tense. A scream is welling in your throat – a demand for him to let you pass. Before you unleash your fury, Din suddenly grunts and collapses to one knee.

Looking down, you see Tex sitting right behind Mando with one of his arms out, the end still sparking blue. Under normal circumstances you'd admonish Tex and check to see if Din is okay but this isn't that. You take the opportunity Tex has given and run back to the Chimera.

Back in your room, you throw yourself onto your unmade bed and stare at the ceiling wondering what the fuck just happened.

Don't be too mad at Din, we'll get an explanation sooner rather than later here...

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The Distance: 

@girlofchaos @elinedjarin @fennccshand @balekanemohafe @jazzelsaur @jessiceezy  @daddydindjarin

[wolfnanaki]

The new trailer for The Mandalorian Season 3 just dropped and I have a feeling they’re about to expand on R5-D4′s backstory in a big way. Let me tell you why.

But first, I gotta talk about the N-1 starfighter. And its astromech droid socket.

It’s introduced in The Phantom Menace as the official ship of the Royal Naboo Security Forces, the corps responsible for protecting the Naboo monarchy. You’ll notice that unlike other well-known starships with droid sockets, this one seems to be too narrow for for an astromech droid to fit inside comfortably. Where’s the rest of its body?

The answer: they’re loaded in from underneath.

First they go in from beneath the ship, their body and legs are clamped in place, and then their head is extended to the top of the ship. Their head and body are still connected thanks to special next extension parts between the droid’s head and body.

But here’s the thing.

The neck extension is not a standard part. It’s a specialized part designed specifically for droids that are assigned to N-1 ships. In other words, an astromech droid that has that neck extension isn’t just a regular droid, but a droid that served one of the most important monarchies in the galaxy.

So that begs the question...

Why does R5-D4 have it?

[sw5w]

Typho Rushes to the Wreckage

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:03:37

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Star Wars Wednesday

(This one is actually part of a fic that's roughly 48% complete and will be posted when closer to finished)

Star Wars 

EPISODE V:

Reign of Vader 

The Emperor is dead! The stability of Imperial Center is crumbling as the entire Empire reels from the news. There are rumors that EMPEROR PALPATINE was assassinated, not by THE REBELLION, but by his own allies!

In a stunning betrayal, the galaxy has now learned that it was EMPEROR PALPATINE himself who ordered the genocide of ALDERAAN, and that further massacres had been planned long in advance! Now, his former apprentice DARTH VADER has ascended to the throne, and the galaxy trembles at the birth of a new regime!

Unbeknownst to the Empire and the Rebellion alike, DARTH VADER is eager to continue his search for the pilot who destroyed the DEATH STAR. Now emperor, he has recalled ships from all over the galaxy for one purpose: to find LUKE SKYWALKER and bring him to Coruscant to face DARTH VADER once and for all...

[[MORE]]

Jomark hung quietly in the cosmos of the Outer Rim Territories. Blue, and serene, and barely large enough to qualify as a planet at all. It would have been perfectly beneath the notice of the galaxy at large, had it not been so close to the Galidraan system. Getting into Jomark wasn’t so difficult, really. But with all the Imperial outposts in the Galidraan system, getting back out without attracting attention from patrols was another matter entirely.

A single X-Wing fighter was no match for a Destroyer even under the best of circumstances. Not without a wingman at least. But the plans for a full-blown extraction mission had fallen through, and Luke Skywalker was once again on his own.

Luke dropped the craft to slide between two TIE fighters, both of whom seemed to be bent on a collision course. Artoo screamed insults at them from his socket as they course-corrected and resumed pursuit. Colorful though they were, Luke couldn’t help agreeing with most of them.

“So much for regrouping,” he groaned. “Artoo, can you get a message to base? I think we’re going to have to take some detours before we get home.”

That was providing they managed to get away at all, but Luke didn’t let himself think of such things.

SLACK-BOLTED SCRAPHEAP DERIVATIVE-OF-A-STREET-SWEEPER! Artoo whistled as they turned the X-Wing 180 degrees to fire on the closer TIE.

YOUR PRIMARY TEMPLATE WAS A GARBAGE SCOW! 

“Artoo? The message?” Luke gritted his teeth and fired again. 

The TIE was keeping just out of range. That seemed unusual for an Imperial squadron.

AFFIRMATIVE, LITTLE PILOT. KEEP YOUR PLATING ON. I AM CAPABLE OF MULTITASKING.

Some pilots would have taken offense at the astromech’s attitude. But Luke had always liked the way Artoo treated him. It kind of felt, in a strange way, like he was flying with Biggs again. He’d never particularly cared for the way most people treated droids like disposable objects. Just because someone programmed their personalities to tend towards certain things didn’t mean they didn’t have feelings, right? 

“Oh stars, here comes the rest of the gang,” Luke sighed.

There was a twinge of warning in the Force and he pulled the X-Wing to the left. “Bad timing, boys.”

THEY DO SEEM TO HAVE INCREASED THEIR EFFORTS.

“No kidding!” 

Luke twisted out of the way of three more TIE fighters. They were surrounding him, occasionally diving at him, but no shots had been fired. “Oh kriff, I hope this isn’t because of the bounty.”

It took at least two days for news from the Core to get all the way to the Outer Rim Territories. By the time word had reached the Alliance that the worst-case scenario had come to pass and Darth Vader had become the emperor, he’d already been on the throne long enough to make several conspicuous changes in tactics. All ships currently engaged in combat had been reassigned to one particular mission: find the pilot who destroyed the Death Star.

General Rieekan had planned an extraction mission to get his lieutenant safely off of Jomark. But with the Fleet out in force through the entire Outer Rim, it had become extremely dangerous. Ships in regular lanes of travel were frequently being stopped and searched. They just couldn’t risk it. Luke more than understood that. He would have hated to be the reason any of his friends were put in danger. But at least some backup would’ve been nice.

Six more fighters joined the circle. In what seemed to be an oversight, they’d left a way out directly above them. “Okay,” Luke muttered, “This is going to be a tight squeeze.”

WHAT. 

“Hang on, Artoo,” Luke warned. He sighed. “This is where the fun begins.”

UNDER ORDINARY CIRCUMSTANCES I WOULD ENCOURAGE EMULATION OF YOUR PRIMARY TEMPLATE BUT NOT TODAY! FOCUS BEFORE I GET SHOT LIKE THE DEATH STAR! THAT WAS AN EXTREMELY SUBOPTIMAL SITUATION!

That caught Luke off-guard. He almost clipped a TIE with the nose of his craft as he pulled up. “What do you mean my primary template? You didn’t know my parents. Wait, did you know my parents?! And you never said anything?!”

FLY NOW! GOSSIP ABOUT MY AGE LATER! Artoo shrieked.

[tlcwrites]

Worth It

Summary:

Poe would never, ever forget how his mom had squeezed him ever so slightly tighter, dropped a kiss to his messy curls, and sighed, almost to herself, “This is what makes it all worth it.”

Now, on the other side of his own war, his own child snuggled securely on his lap, Poe gets it.

Word Count: 1226

Tags/Warnings: Dad!Poe; Poe Dameron/Fem Reader; pregnancy; Family Dameron adorableness out the wazoo; sooooo much fluff. 

Author’s Note: So this happened because my 3-year-old son’s favorite thing to do is ‘play’ Minecraft with his dad. He will snuggle with my husband, both of them staring at that stupid computer for hours, and my husband loves it just as much as our son. Today was no exception. They got ‘creepered’ and I’m telling you, there is nothing like the sound of a toddler belly laughing to make your day better. Of course, because #me, I couldn’t stop thinking about Poe sharing his favorite hobby with his own kid. So here you go. I apologize for the typos because I wrote this in about thirty minutes, but I make no apologies for the cavities that may or may not result from consuming this fluff.

*I know there’s something about Poe’s earliest memory of flying with Shara in the Flight Log, but my copy isn’t getting here until Sunday and I was too impatient to get this done to wait for the details, so any discrepancies with canon are my fault and tbh IDGAF.

Poe’s not entirely certain what his earliest memory of his mom is; he’s pretty sure it was the first time Shara took him past atmo into space, but it’s hard to trust a toddler’s memory. Regardless, he knows his favorite.

He was four, and Shara had taken him up in her beloved RZ-1 A-wing interceptor. It wasn’t anywhere near the first time he’d flown with her, perched on her lap, her helmet completely swallowing his head but loving every second of ‘piloting’ the fighter. They flew together most days. Just keeping an eye on the neighborhood, Shara would say, with a wink for her son and a laugh as she pressed a kiss to Kes’ cheek as they clomped back into the house, breathless and euphoric from being airborne.

But that time was special. That time, Shara had woken him up before the dawn and bundled him in her worn green flight jacket, whispering that she had a surprise for him. He remembers waving to his dad, silhouetted by the porch light as the A-wing took flight, rising into the pre-dawn sky.

That was the first morning Poe had ever watched the sun rise from the air. He remembers every detail; from the condensation on the canopy of the ship, to the way the sunlight had slowly filtered over the mountains surrounding the Dameron homestead. It was breathtaking. To a four-year-old, it was life altering. And Poe would never, ever forget how his mom had squeezed him ever so slightly tighter, dropped a kiss to his messy curls, and sighed, almost to herself, “This is what makes it all worth it.”

Now, on the other side of his own war, his own child snuggled securely on his lap, Poe gets it.

Beka Dameron squeals with delight as the X-Wing bursts through the cloud cover, those same mountains still steadfast guardians around her grandfather’s ranch. Poe can’t help his grin. His daughter’s glee is infectious.

“What do you think, babygirl?” he asks the two-year-old, leaning forward and blowing a raspberry on her cheek. She giggles and he beams. “Should we chase the sunrise and bring it home to Mama?”

“Woop, Daddy!” Beka smacks the flight stick with a chubby fist. “Go woop-woop!”

“Alright, princess, one loop-loop comin’ right up.” Poe flicks a switch and drops a kiss on Beka’s curly mop. “Beebee, you heard the lady!”

From the astromech socket, BB-8 chirps their approval of this plan. Granted, there’s very little the droid wouldn’t do for any of the Damerons, but Beka’s wishes are BB’s commands.

It’s a split second, as his daughter laughs and the sunrise hits the mountain ridge just right, in the stillness before he spins the fighter into motion, that Poe is struck by the strongest sense of deja vu. His throat is suddenly tight and he has to blink rapidly because his eyes are abruptly watery.

This is what makes it all worth it.

Yeah, he definitely gets it.

Tightening his arm around his daughter, Poe whoops. Beka echoes his joyful cry, and the fighter leaps towards the dawn.

__

On the ground, you watch the X-wing formerly known as Black One as it dips in and out of view through the clouds. You’re positive you can hear your daughter’s giggles from where you stand, as well as her father’s throaty laugh.

Behind you, the kitchen door opens.

“How long have they been up there?” Kes asks, joining you on the porch.

“Not long.” You smile at your father-in-law. “Poe wanted to see the sunrise.”

“He’s his mother’s son, that’s for sure,” he says with an affectionate chuckle, handing you a steaming cup of nysillim tea. “Always in a better mood after starting the day in the air.”

You accept the mug with murmured thanks, both of you watching contentedly as the fighter appears once more below the morning haze.

It’s barely a moment before Poe is expertly landing the fighter in the clearing behind the house. Kes takes your mug before he helps you off the porch, and you both stroll to the makeshift flight pad. The first streams of morning light start to break through the clouds as the ship powers down.

“Mama!” Beka hollers the second the canopy lifts. “Mama, Bee bwaught you sunshine!”

“Yeah, Mama,” Poe echos, carefully tossing the toddler down into Kes’ waiting arms. Beka’s joyful shriek makes everyone smile even bigger. “Had to chase some of those clouds off.”

You laugh as Beka flops backwards in Kes’ arms, her curls dangling as she hangs upside down. You bend to kiss her forehead. “You did great, honey. Did you fly Daddy’s ship for him?”

“Yeah!” Beka giggles. “We did woop-woops!”

You turn to your husband as he scrambles down the flight ladder. “Is that so?”

“Princess, we talked about this.” Poe tickles Beka with one hand, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders. “What happens in the cockpit stays in the cockpit.”

“Oh really?” you murmur quietly.

Poe winks at you. “All woop-woops were conducted under the strictest of safety procedures, Lieutenant. General’s honor.”

BB-8, now freed from the fighter, whistles knowingly.

You raise an eyebrow.

Poe glares at the droid. “Traitor.”

“How about some Iktotch toast for breakfast?” Kes asks Beka, smoothly changing the topic before you and Poe can get going. “Pop’s got zoochberry syrup!”

Beka nearly leaps out of her grandfather’s arms. “ZOOBURYS.”

Laughing, Kes leads the way back to the farmhouse, BB-8 trailing the pair of them like a puppy. As you go to follow, Poe tugs gently on your hand, holding you back.  

“You know I’d never put her in danger, right?” he asks quietly.

“Oh, Poe.” You bring a hand up to card your fingers through his hair, and he leans into your palm with a contented sigh. “Of course I know that.”

“Just making sure.” He smiles, that half smirk that is your absolute favorite. “How are you feeling?”

You take his hand and position it carefully on the swollen rise of your belly. “She’s been dancing this morning.”

“Yeah?” It only takes a moment before his eyes widen and he lets out a bark of laughter as a foot connects soundly with his palm. “She’s so strong!”

“I’m aware,” you intone wryly. “This one’s got your sass already.”

He laughs again, wisely not arguing (because it’s not like you’re wrong), instead pulling you into his arms and kissing you soundly. You stand as the sky glows from pink to blue, wrapped in each other in the early morning air, until something small hits your legs.

“DADDY. MAMA.” Beka makes the universal toddler sign for ‘up’. “Eye-tot toast! Papa says now!”

“Okay, okay, princess!” Releasing you with one last kiss to your temple, Poe scoops up your daughter, tossing her into the air before settling her on his shoulders. Grinning at you, he wraps his arm back around your shoulders, tugging you securely into his side. “Team Dameron is on the move.”

Beka’s giggles echo through the clearing as you make your way up the gentle rise towards the house. And with his wife and his daughter in his arms, and another kid on the way, Poe can’t help that tightness in his throat again. He’s not even aware of the smile on his face.

This is what makes it all worth it.

Boy, if that’s not the truth.

[lexl52]

Every character in Lego Star Wars the Skywalker Saga should have voice lines and dialogue.

Also, some characters should have personal upgrades.

And they should make Echo able to use protocol droid and astromech droid sockets and consoles.

[msfangirlgonewild]

Prescence (post-TROS fanfiction/Post Canon)

Before I’m posting on Archives, this is my first DamereyDaily2020 during pandemic week, and this is the second after Healing or ‘possibly the third’ series of ‘It's Like Poetry, Sort Of. They Rhymes.’

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Rey Skywalker

Word count: 4,650

Prompt: ’Two hearts and one home.’ Plus a bonus from late March ‘If You Lived to Be A Hundred’

Summary: Three months later...Poe had faith that his dauntless ally, his best friend, his ray of sunshine, his beloved Jedi...had returned for him.

Once the Death Star’s latest target and the site of the Rebel base during the final battle. Yavin 4 was a vast and most affluent planet of the Outer Rim Territories, and its large and sprawling tropical jungles teemed with an abundance of exotic beauty.

Following a long hyperspeed, T-70 X-wing Black One had reached Yavin 4. Similar to Ajan Kloss, this tropical moon planet was where Poe Dameron was born. He was glad, relieved to have finally returned from Coruscant and the third meeting of the Galactic Senate’s restoration.

Poe thought about the peace that had ensued after the war, and the friends that he had made along the way. He missed them so much out there, but it was time to come home, take a breath, and rejoin his father. Nonetheless, he was reflected on Finn and the journey with his fellow former stormtrooper Jannah, along with Rose Tico, Chewbacca and Lando Carlissian in search of their families. Larma D’Acy was now in the Senate’s seat while Beaumont Kim as her aide. Caluan Ematt had retired and returned to his home planet with his family. Kaydel Ko Connix had been promoted to Major and continued to serve in the military. And Jessika Pava, the fearless sole member of the Black Squadron was taking over Poe’s command.

He had visited some time with Maz Kanata at her restored castle at Takodana where she had her new cantina, and with Zorii Bliss and Babu Frik who were still running spices like in the days when Poe had worked them long ago. Zorii would keep in touch with him until if she needed hand otherwise.

The giant red planet was covered in clouds as Black One dropped from the atmosphere and flew over the grassy fields to landed perfectly just as near from his father’s homestead.

He pulled off his flight helmet and climbed down from the cockpit. As General Dameron’s temporary side droid while Beebee-Ate was away with Rey, Artoo-Detoo popped up from the astromech socket behind the cockpit, and maneuvered himself with his two small rockets to land slowly onto the ground. Finally, the droid and his maker-pilot were strolling toward the stable next to the farmhouse.

They walked past his mother’s A-wing interceptor, parked next to an old X-wing model, and Poe was suddenly curious. He looked towards the craft as Artoo was suddenly became excited with blipping and whistles.

Poe turned to the diminutive droid, as he arched his brow. “What?” he asked unexpectedly. “What do you mean—“

“Is that you, son?” His father shouted from the nearby stable while fixing his tractor. “And I could hear Artoo’s droidspeak.”

He nodded to himself. “Yeah, Dad,” he said, still focusing on the ship as Artoo rolled closer. “I’m home!”

“How’s my old mates at Coruscant?”

“Er...they all missed you,” he looked closer at the craft: one had the red stripe on two of its wings and on the body. It was sleek, like the T-70 X-wing or his original Black One that had been destroyed inside the Raddus’ hangar.

Poe abruptly realized that this was the T-65B starfighter, the one that Uncle Luke had piloted to destroy the first Death Star at Yavin 4, and then thirty three years later the same craft that had flown to Exegol with the guide of a Sith Wayfinder, with Poe along with Finn and the rest of the Resistance following its track.

Red Five––here? Poe thought. No kriffing way!

“They’re coming to visit you the next seasons,” added Poe, sighed in relief. “And they’ll bring some of that Corellian cognac that you wanted!”

“Sounds good, Poe!” Kes Dameron answered enthusiastically.

That’s Master Jedi-Luke’s X-wing and I recognize this ship, Maker-Poe, the droid beeped to Poe. And I think there is someone here?

“Who?” asked Poe.

“Oh, there’s a visitor for you, kid,” Kes added. “And she’s with our Beebee.”

“Really?” His heart leaped to find out Rey was already there.

“Of course, you Space Porg! Did you see that old X-wing she’s flying?” Kes chucked as Poe got annoyed at his ridiculous teasing. “She’s at our old place. Do invite with your Jedi friend for a dinner tonight.”

“Ah…no problem, Dad. And I’ll tell her!” Poe wore a satisfied grin as he turned to giddy Artoo. ”Will you take it easy, bud?”

Sorry, sir. Artoo beeped. Never can help it.

He shook himself as he walked and the droid followed. “You know what, you’re a lot more cheekier like Beebee-Ate.” he observed. “And a bit naive.”

Why thank you very much, Master-Poe. You have to add that I’m a stubborn little droid as well. Jedi Master-Luke calls me that, by the way.

“Ah, I almost forgot that.” he chuckled lightly as they move along the path through the woods where his new home was, where his family was, and where the Uneti tree was located. “Does Uncle Luke cross your mind?”

Yes, Master-Poe. We had a lot of adventures when I was with him from time to time. But I can’t say much about what happened after he had gone.

“I know, Artoo,” he sighed sadly.

Until a sound of jubilant beeps and chirps approached as a spherical looking droid followed by a tiny cone shaped, rolled towards Poe.

“Beebee-Ate! Welcome back!” Poe exclaimed, dropping to his knees. He rubbed the droid’s body back as Beebee’s dome head jiggled excitedly like a child has returned from a long trip. “I really missed you, Buddy?”

Same to you, Master-Poe! Beebee beeps and chirps happily. It’s good to be home! What’s up, Artoo and you’ve been spending time with him!

Incredibly much, Beebee-Ate. Artoo replied. Master-Poe is happy you’ve come back.

“And how d’you enjoy crossing the galaxy with your Jedi Mistress-Rey?” he asked with a smile at Beebee. “Have you stuck with her?”

Yes, sir. She’s been keeping my antenna straight in case I get into trouble. We’ve traveled around to all the places, especially Tatooine.

“You mean Luke’s old homestead?”

Yes, sir.

Dio rolled closer to Poe. “Welcome back, Master-Poe.” he said calmly. He had been living there permanently as Poe’s second familiar. “How was the Senate meeting at Coruscant?”

Poe groaned as he nuzzled the droid’s cone head like a house pet. “Lot’s of reconstruction and other headaches, Little Buddy.” he smiled lightly. “Thanks for asking.”

He brought himself back to his feet as he was looked in the direction where he was going. “Is she there?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.” Dio replied.

Jedi Mistress-Rey has been at the tree in about an hour, Master-Poe. Beebee beeped in reply.

“What’s she doing?” asked Poe, looking at Beebee.

Meditating. Beebee double-beeped.

Poe looked over in the direction of the tree. He took a deep breath, glad of see Rey again. They had shared intimately at the forest of Ajan Kloss during an evening celebration. And it felt rewarding to him, as it was so very uncommon.

“Why don’t you guys go with Artoo and charge yourselves alright?” he said at the two. “I just need to speak alone with her.”

Beebee and Dio responded in the affirmative as they joining with Artoo and proceeded to the charging area. Poe resumes up the path, which finally opened into a clearing where he could almost feel her presence.

The ancient Force-sensitive Uneti tree stood there near the lake and his family’s old home, remodeled now as his own. Like The Great Tree at Coruscant, colorful fan-shaped leaves of gold and brown were attached to the coiled branches and stems of the large, twisted trunk.

Then Poe saw  the enchanted tree, and near it a beautiful floating figure sat crossed-legged in the air with small boulders and rocks hovering slowly around her as the Force flowed through her. Her eyes were closed peacefully as she concentrated in a meditative trance that flowed between her and the tree.

Poe was silently impressed; he sat down on the grass, placing his flight helmet beside him. Then he stripped off his flight vest and placed it on top of the helmet as he watched the floating and reposed Rey. She had more beautiful since their first encounter on Crait where she had used her power to lift rocks. Looking at her now, Poe thought her once again of how she resembled an ancient Yavinesque goddess with her celestial objects surrounding her.  

He’d never fallen in love with any woman in the galaxy before he found her. He had wanted her from the beginning when they first met at the Falcon, and now he loved having her in his life. Time was specifically a good thing when it came to General Dameron, who was gladly reunited with the lone scavenger from Jakku, now a fiercely independent Jedi after the tides of galactic war.

And it was something that he had faith in the ideal of his dauntless ally, his space goddess, his ray of sunshine, his beguiling sweetheart, and his beloved Jedi. She had returned for him.

Then a minute later, Rey had finally completed her meditation. She lowered herself neatly on the ground as the rocks fell around her.

Poe stood up and walked to her. “Hey, Sunshine,” he said to her.

Rey was aware of the familiar voice as she slowly opened her eyes and blinked. “Hey, Flyboy,” she replied breathlessly with a bright smile.

Poe took a quick step forward as Rey approached him and then wrapped her arms around him. At once all his aching memories of three unbearable months had finally lifted, and his eyes closed in bliss that as was back in his beloved Jedi’s arms. He tightened his hold around her waist and leaned against her chest as he inhaled the scent of her.

"I missed you,” she sighed softly.

“Same to you,” he murmured, his face buried in the crook between her neck and shoulder. “I’m surprised that you’re here.”

“Oh, I know. That’s why I came to see you, Poe,” she sniffed. “It’s been a long time since I was away.”

“I was worried while you were still out there.”

“More than your Force-sensitivity of tracking me?”

“Indubitably.” Poe lifted his head, raising his brows in a cocky manner and looked at her teary eyes. “I don’t want to spoil it too much, and it takes time,” he said meticulously, wiping her tears with his thumb.

“To be sure,” assured Rey.

He chuckled as his eyes mirroring hers while he stood in silence. It had been months since he and Rey had parted after leaving Ajan Kloss. There had been a lot of opportunities in their separate ways during the restoration of the New Republic, and some perks.

And he could see the truth in her eyes. Rey had missed him all these months since their fight against the Final Order, Emperor Palpatine, and his Sith Eternal, and she had come back to see him once again.

After disowning herself her Palpatine bloodline and adopting the Skywalker’s surname, Rey had made plans for the restoration and reorganization of the New Jedi Order––or maybe a search for the kybel crystal to build her own lightsaber from the parts of her staff.

She had returned to see Poe after her final trip to Tatooine. And either way, Poe was happy that Rey had come.

He began to move closer again until Rey spoke. “I hope you’re surprised I’m here with Beebee-Ate,” she noted. “He missed you.”

“Did he?”

She nodded slowly. “Uh-huh.”

“That’s my buddy,” he shrugged his shoulders with a sardonic grin as they gently pulled away. “And you’ve been flying Uncle Luke’s Red Five. What happened to your Falcon?”

“Lando asked me to borrow it for a while with Chewie,” she answered. “He told me the whole story about how his ship before he was beaten by Han in a card game.”

“That’s him, alright. He’ll never change a bit,” he sighed with a scoff, scratching the back of his head. “Are you going to stay for a while?”

“If you want me to,” she assured playfully, “then, I’m staying.”

“Good, I’m glad you’re welcome here, and you can stay as long as you like,” he said with a smirk. “Also, my Dad made some dinner for us tonight.”

“That’s sound’s wonderful,” she said in an optimistically.

Poe led her on a simple tour of the Force-sensitive tree. Despite growing up in the desert, Rey had already visited so many greens planets in the galaxy like Takodana and Ajan Kloss. But she was amazed at the exotic fields of Yavin 4 with its fresh breezes blowing through the Massassi trees, the scented fresh fruits of Koyo trees that Kes had planted, the bioluminescence of fresh flowers and lush green grasses, and the gleams of the late afternoon sun on the crystal-clear lake that shone with a lustrous and rare beauty.

As they strolled around under the tree in conversation, Rey noticed the renovated house nearby. “I can see the new home that you’ve to built over there. Is that the house where your parents lived?”

“Yup, I’m still restoring it,” he answered, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his fight uniform.

“Perhaps you need a hand. I’ve fixed a lot of stuff besides ships,” Rey glanced at him. “How about it, General Dameron?”

“Why not, Jedi Mistress Skywalker.” he was amused at the tone of her new surname. “A carpenter would be nicer to have around than a scavenger, a mechanic, or even a Jedi. But you only have a new lightsaber rather than a laser saw. Or maybe the Force would do–”

Instinctively, Rey quickly slapped his arm while Poe laughed with a cocky humor as they strolled. She ignored him as she is looked up to watch the gentle breeze moves through the branches of the Force-sensitive Uneti tree.

“Your father showed me this tree, and I can’t believe it’s so beautiful and mythical,” she said. “But it much seems so huge and different, unlike the one at Ahch-To.”

“It’s pretty awesome, huh? And it’s matured and more than I expected.” He walked to the trunk, but did not get close. “My mom helped Uncle Luke to cut two clippings a long time ago. So he gave her one as a thank you present.”

“So Luke has the other one at Ahch-To,” Poe continued. “and you’ve said there was a library underneath the trunk of the tree where the sacred Jedi texts kept.”

“That’s right, Poe.” she answered. “I returned the day on exile as when I saw the tree, it was burned down.”

Later, she stopped as Poe kept strolling. “Have you ever touched the tree?”

“Huh?” he blinked as he halted and turned back toward her.

“Did you?” she asked curiously.

“When I was thirteen, I was supposed to be close to the tree, but I’m afraid that was because I was being sensitive about staying away.” Then he swiftly glanced at her. “Later, I did at this point that I sat under the tree, and when I did, I felt the inside of me for the first time while I was napping.”

“Was it scary?” she asked.

Poe moved shyly away from her. “Nope, it’s childish. But sentimental.”

“Can you tell me, Poe?” Rey giggled, teasing him. “Come on.”

He turned back toward her again and looked down at the necklace that held his mother’s wedding ring around Rey’s neck. His expression was earnest as he moved towards her, and his fingers fiddling with the ring.

He took a patient breath and began. “I can only I remember what I felt about my mother and me. She was very close to me when I was a little boy. She would take me outside at night when my father was fast asleep. We went to the lake near the growing Force tree, we’d lie down on the grass and stared at the night sky.” Poe released the ring from his hand as he looked up at the afternoon sky. “Once, she pointed to the brightest star –– Caeli, the Bird Star of the galaxy. And it was a good sign; my mother promised me that I’d become the best pilot when I grew up, just like her.”

Poe missed his mom so much when he was with her. She had taught him advising and caring across the galaxy and over until he found himself in a place where the eyes of Shara Bey could not reach him.

“That was very touching, Poe,” she observed. “You missed your mom a lot?”

He sighed as he looked down at the surface roots between his feet, and he felt something like life, a presence, like the air through him. He cocked his head at her. “What about you, Sunshine?”

“What?” she puzzled.

“Have you touched or meditated through the tree?” he asked simply.

She took her breath with ease. “I felt it,” she replied with a simple nod.

“Was it scary or something?”

She shuddered slightly as Poe moved at her.  “Hey, it’s alright I’m here with you.” he reassured her.

“It’s like a magnet pulling me, Poe,” she answered, and her eyes rose and met his. “It’s not scary. It replenishes me inside––the Force––through the way of the world, through my parents, Han, Luke and Leia, and Ben. I had cherished them as my faithfully as long as I wished for them. They’re in peace now, and I shall never regret it. The bond between Ben and me has been reconciled and purpose. I was very fond of him and remember him as a friend rather than an adversary. I embraced him with gratitude when he brought me back to life after I was defeated Palpatine and the Sith.”

Poe moved closer to her, brought her hand to his lips and softly kissed her knuckle. “Finn and I thought that you were gone there at Exegol.” he murmured with his breath hitched. “I…I’m––“

“I know, Poe,” she answered softly in a brittle tone. “But I live.”

He watched her in silence for a while, and before he could kiss Rey began to talk about something else.

“I was there in Coruscant,” she said. “At the service.”

He understood. He hadn’t seen her at the Monument Plaza during the service. “Finn told me that you’d left early,” he said.

“I wish I could’ve stayed for a while, but I had something to settle.” she nodded slowly. “That was a good speech, Poe. It was very...”

“Solacing,” he admits, cutting off Rey’s sentence.

Rey clasped both hands. “I’m sorry.”

He heaved a sigh and swallowed, looking more comforted than grieving. “I know, sweetheart. I don’t want to affect myself of having an ordeal like this. I miss everyone, especially Snap and Aunt Leia.”

She bowed her head sadly. “I understand.”

“Leia was your master after Uncle Luke, Rey,” he said.

“Yes,” she said calmly. “Master Leia taught me everything while I was at Ajan Kloss. She watched me what I’m doing, and it was with a patience between peace and calm. She told me about all the moments she treasure with Luke as he taught her every day. I miss her, and especially Master Luke, Poe.”

Rey recollected the motherly relationship with the master who trained her apprentice to refocus and free her mind from fear through the Force. She understood entirely that patience was the key of the Force.

Poe walked and stood beside her as he gazed at the fields. “Before we left on a mission in search of the Wayfinder, Leia said she was passing her torch to me to bring the Final Order down. And while I was at Exegol that I nearly failed or retreated, until the spark which had become a fire finally arrived with Lando and the entire fleet from the whole galaxy. They had done it, and Leia was right about what she’d said about new hope. I believe in her, Rey.”

Then a single tear fell from his eye, and he wiped it away. “Anyway, that was then before the war was over and it was time to move on. But i’m here now with my dad to start a new life, right from the start.”

He took a breath like he’s relaxed from bereavement as he runs his hand through his hair. “So, um…how’s Tatooine?” he asked. “Beebee-Ate told me.”

“Hot during the day, and cold at night,” she said, walking over and staring out at the lake as she felt the gentle wind behind her. “It looks fairly different than Jakku. And it’s not to be lightly traveled, that desert planet.”

“Did you find what you’ve looking for at Uncle Luke’s place?” he asked, watching the most beautiful Jedi he had ever seen standing on the very edge of the lake.

After exploring across the galaxy, and revisiting Ahch-To, her final stop had been the Lars homestead in the Great Chott flat on Tatooine. The moisture farm had remained abandoned, it was there where she buried Anakin and Leia's lightsabers. She stayed there for a while in peace and tranquility, staring at the striking blue and gold sunrise of the twin suns.

“Nothing special,” answered Rey after took a long breath. She picked up a small stone and threw and skipped it across the water. “But, there’s one who came and visited me before I left.”

“Luke?”

“No, it was Leia,” she said, turning her back to him. “She told me everything about Ben, about the pain he’d suffered, that there was still good inside of him, and she could feel it before she died.”

After a moment, Poe sighed as Rey went on. “Leia told me about you, Poe. Not so feisty as you’d think since when you were with her.”

“Oh, please,” he said like he’s was fooling around. “What was our second mom saying?”

“She wanted to know how you felt to be without guidance. Your instinct as a leader was genuinely unsurpassable, and it was such a difficult situation with what you did out there. She was pleased with you, Poe.”

Poe missed having Aunt Leia by his side during the war after Shara’s passing. He was just amazed by the miracles in the galaxy.

“When if she comes as a ghost to see you,” said Poe with a light smile. “tell her to say thank you, will you?”

“There’s more,” she said, this time sincerely. “Leia told me that I was her last wish for you—it’s because I’m your gift, Poe. I hadn’t noticed this before we met––”

Poe moved closer to her and felt the way her body relaxed against his. He placed his finger gently on her lips to silence her. “Enough, sweetheart. You’ve talked too much, and I know the exact words that she said to me.”

“Oh, there is something else,” she added with a sigh, leaning her forehead to his, and held her hands on his chest, clutching her fingers against the fabric of Poe’s flight uniform. “While I was still meditating with the tree, and I felt a presence that was unforgettable.”

They stood looking at each other in serenity and longing as the sunlight gleamed on the surface of the Yavinesque lake around them.

“It’s about us, Poe.” she whispered as her breath hitches. She closed her eyes like she was praying.

His heartbeat skipped a beat, and his eyes blinked as though he couldn’t believe what she was saying. “Tell me,” he murmured, as his eyes closed with hers.

“I remember at Crait when you were bewildering me while I used the Force to lift rocks and help you, Finn, and the rest of the Resistance to escape. Then we met at the Falcon, and as we shared about our pain by Ben and then Snoke, we were truly connected. Then we bickered with each other like feral Loth-cats about the Falcon being on fire because of your habit on lightspeed skipping,” Poe snorted at that as Rey lightly chuckled before continuing. “We fought alongside with Finn against the First Order from time to time. And while on a mission, you protected me that I fought my Palpatine bloodline against turning to the Dark Lord’s throne and falling to the Dark Side. And when I was ready for heading to Exegol to face my grandfather, were still arguing that I didn’t need you to safeguard or watch over me anymore. But you  still protected me because you were deeply in love from the beginning without telling me.”

And Poe moved to hold her gently, then ran his hands smoothly along her arms and between her neck and her face. His head moved up as his lips brushed softly against her forehead. Rey flutters her eyes blissfully as she let her saying the words to flow. He whispered with kisses, from one of her eyelids to her cheek, and then that close to her mouth. Rey sighed with bliss and felt the feathery touch of his breath against her skin.

She went on: “Then the other day during the victory celebration, the night we shared each other in the deep of the forest when we made love...as the Force enlivened inside of our deepest emotions we shared, and preserved this moment forever. And when we left Ajan Kloss at dawn in our separate ways, I felt that my presence was inside still  in your heart and soul, and that you would be waiting for me when I returned from across the galaxy. And now…” she paused for a second with her eyes opened, and Poe instantly stopped kissing her while his eyes stared lovingly at hers. “Poe?”

“What?” he asked, his expression beguiling.

“Why did you stop?” she asked, begging him to continue in his dawdling manner.

“Why did you stop,” he asked. “I wouldn’t know until you allow me to say so.”

Her breath hitched, then she choked up like she was almost crying, and they were both quiet for a moment until her face rested on his shoulder and Poe moved his hand to gently fondle her head.

“I came for you, Poe,” she declared softly at last with her eyes closed. “And I’m here…right here.”

He smiled peacefully, pressing his lips against the crown of her head. “Well, you’re here right now, my Lady Jedi,” he replies. “And I love you.”

With hindsight, she took his hand from her head and placed it gently on her abdomen.

Poe‘s eyes were stunned and surprised, and his mouth parted in wonder. Rey cocked her head to face him and smiled at him.

“No way,” he stammered, furrowing his brows. “Rey, you’re––”

“Does it surprise you, General?”

As their heartbeats touched each other’s chest, Poe’s permission was written into the desperation of with which his mouth met hers, something like a sense of contentment that he shared with her. He wanted more than anything is to be with her eternally.

Two hearts and one home. Poe discerned in thought.

“So you’re staying with me, Rey,” Poe said as his eyes gleamed and smirked. “And if you live to be a hundred?”

Rey laughed joyfully. Tears flowed down on her cheeks, and he gently wiped them away with his thumb. “I hope to live to be a hundred minus a day.” she sniffed in jest.

He chuckled thoughtfully with one brow widened. He nodded and caressed Rey’s face as she looked at him. “So that I never have to live a day without you.”

She leaned her forehead against his. The Force inspirited their emotions because of love, and the heart of the galaxy was forever changed.

“I love you, Space Porg.” she murmured.

Instead of calling her ‘Desert Rat,’ he decided to call her from now on.

“I know, Buttercup,” he answers softly, pulling her gently and returning his lips to hers. “I know.”

[jimclassicstoycollection]

Thrift store haul

Green tank:

I honestly have no idea what line this tank is for; I couldn’t find a copyright date or a toy manufacturer, ut it looks like G.I. Joe characters can fit inside it, so maybe I’ll hold on to it. 

I think this tank looks pretty cool. It’s just a basic, fictional armored personal tank with the tracks and a large wheel in the back. It looks pretty neat for what it is.

The tank is obviously missing a gun I’m pretty sure I can scrounge up a random, loose cannon to wedge into the top side turret. Over the years I’ve acquired quite a few large guns which might fit.

Star Wars

Action Fleet

X-Wing fighter

Back in the 90′s Star Wars the Action Fleet were part of the Micro Machines line of Star Wars ships, and this was a random X-Wing fight which didn’t come with the pilot, or the heavy wing blasters. 

The astromech droid seems to be part of the mold, I couldn’t remove it from the socket.

The X-Wing is in good condition; I’m very happy to see all three of the landing skids are intact 

Street Sharks

Dr. Piranoid

I barely remember Street Sharks, it was a Mattel toyline meant to compete with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles back in the 90′s. It didn’t last.

Dr. Piranoid was the main villain, and I’m not sure which version this one is but his gun arm is made of a soft, rubber and I think it’s a water squirter.

For what this toy is it’s solid, and surprisingly heavy too. It looks fun as a toy, and I probably would have loved it as a kid if I was into this line. I might just add him to my TMNT toys.

I really like the Piranoid design of the scuba suit. The plastic cord are broken off at the base of the air tanks, and that stinks, maybe I’ll glue them on, or just out right remove them... 

The canopy opens up to reveal his head, and wowsers what a head sculp! I think his eye patch has a skull on it.

The head sculpt is intense and insane. I love it.

[threadsketchier]

Whumptober #17 - “Stay with me”

Some of y’all may remember my old Melodramatic Space Trash™, I’ll Come With You.  I took it down a few years back after getting epically stuck and then growing displeased with it overall.  It’s in Princess Bride “mostly dead” territory, but...only mostly dead.  After I wrote “A Hard Question” I decided that if ICWY were to keep existing I stubbornly wanted to connect them by having AHQ become the prologue of ICWY, and just bridge everything with my Zahn 2.0 series.  But I digress.

For those of you thinking WTF is this story, ICWY is a “I LOL’ed & then I srs’ed” take on “Shattered Ties” by Jedi_Lover.  AKA, Mara suffers irreversible amnesia of the events of Vison of the Future and is stuck with a dubious Force bond that’s not all rainbows and sunshine to deal with.  Because, taken seriously, this plot is arguably a disservice to Mara in saddling her with more mental issues for sake of Luke’s manpain, I wanted to take more consideration on the consequences for her in any future revision.  BUT I DIGRESS.  This is the opening of Chapter 1, which has only had minor tweaks from its original version to make it fit with the new prologue.  The first several paragraphs consisted of direct quotes from VotF in order to dovetail the story from there, so there’s a bit of that snipped here.  Note the difference in Luke’s catchphrase for attempting to wake Mara carried over from AHQ.

He was standing in a pool just off the edge of the last of the underground rivers he and Mara had passed during their trip through the caverns.  Five meters to his left, the torrent that had brought them here had vanished, leaving only the river rippling its sedate way along.

And two meters to his right, bobbing gently in the pool as she floated beside the craggy rock, was Mara.  Her eyes closed, her arms and legs limp.  As if in death.  The precise image he'd seen of her in that Jedi vision on Tierfon.

And then he was at her side, raising her head out of the water, gazing at her face in sudden fear.  If the trance hadn't kept her alive – if she'd struck something hard enough to kill her after he'd lost his grip on her –

Behind him, R2 whistled impatiently.  “Right,” Luke agreed, cutting off his sudden panic.  All he had to do to bring her out of it was speak the key phrase she'd chosen, the phrase she'd wondered aloud if he could handle.  Almost as if she was afraid he couldn't…

He took a deep breath.  “Come with me.”

There was no response.

A sickening dread began to clench his gut.  Forcing calm into his voice, he repeated himself, a tremor still escaping him as he enunciated each word more clearly.  “Come with me, Mara.”  An almost manic hope that perhaps this was just a fiendish little trick of hers skittered across the back of his mind.  Perhaps she had heard him all along and was only pretending, trying to scare the wits out of him for old times' sake.  But he knew it wasn't true even as the thought crossed; however brief it was, the disorientation upon emergence from a trance wouldn't have allowed her to pull it off.

Only the quiet rush of the river answered him.  Mara lay still and flaccid, eyes closed and mouth slack, a blue tinge to her lips.

“No.”  The denial left him in a moan.  “Mara, no. Please.”  Echoing slightly off the cavern walls, R2's anxious fluting joined his exclamations and went ignored.  Despair made his grasp on the Force as slippery as the sodden rock around him, and he crushed it down until it coalesced into a near-physical pain deep within his chest.  He needed his senses now more than ever, to find if–

Instantly Luke was hefting her up and struggling his way out of the pool toward the nearest surface where he could lay her flat.  She was not gone.  Not yet.  But she was near the edge and fading fast, her heart locked in either v-fib or a faint spasm of pulseless electrical activity.  He didn't know if her lungs were waterlogged, but it was irrelevant at the moment. How many minutes had she already been in this state?

As it had been with the sentinel droids, his entire focus was narrowed to this one desperate task: to revive her, somehow.  Fear, fury, and even expectations had to be cast aside as he began vigorous compressions.  He could not fight the will of the Force, but he would fight as long as he still had her, even if only by a thread.

“Artoo!” he shouted, splitting his concentration just long enough to seize him in a mental grip and lift him over the water and terrain.  “Get your arc welder out. I'm gonna need a charge.”  More elaborate ideas were quickly dismissed in favor of the simplest solution. With the extra power packs, R2 likely still carried enough energy to spare at least one, possibly two, jolts strong enough to attempt defibrillation, although the effort would drain it significantly.  A monophasic electrical impulse was not ideal, requiring more power and risking serious burns, but there was no other choice.  The fact that they were all drenched just made it that much more dangerous.  There were so many factors that he could not control without having a medpac's auto-defib for diagnostic measurements and adjustments.

All he could do was listen for the songbirds, to tell him how much and when.

“You ready?”  At R2's affirmative chirp and the whir of his arc welder extending, Luke paused compressions for only a moment to gather a fistful of the charred fabric around Mara's shoulder and tear it violently to expose enough bare skin for the tip of the appendage to rest near her heart.  The incurable gallantry within him, in a bittersweet way, was relieved that there was no need to fully expose her.  Despite her usual crassness and pragmatism, this was not the way he would have ever wanted to see her, the last of her dignity literally ripped away.

“You need to press down hard, Artoo.  Now juice it up, and I'll tell you when to shoot, okay?”

Beneath his hands he felt something give way with a soft pop, and strangled down sharp regret at having either broken cartilage or bone.  It was almost inevitable with crude manual resuscitation.

Be careful.

Always, Farmboy.

But he hadn’t been careful enough.  He’d come here to protect her, hoping to save her.  But the harder he tried to prevent his visions, the more inevitable they seemed.

R2 blurted readiness, and Luke plunged into the Force, pleading for that precious guidance. Electrons gathered until…

“Now!” He pushed himself backwards, completely away from Mara and any residual water around her, and the astromech shot current straight into her.  He watched her body twitch from the shock.  Wheeping urgent queries, R2 leaned back to lift the welder off of her.  Luke reached for her neck, but the tension had not cleared from his mind; it hadn't worked. To his horror, he noticed her arms starting to curl up and her fingers gnarling in decorticate posturing, an ominous sign of brain damage.

Gritting his teeth, he resumed compressions.  “Again, Artoo.  We have to try again.  Same thing.”  The droid's reply was blatantly nervous; it certainly wasn't accustomed to delivering what, in any other situation, would be harmful toward a non-hostile organic being. Astromechs weren't medical droids, no matter how heavily modified.

If it failed a second time, other options were far less viable.  His bionic hand wouldn't contain enough power for that kind of discharge, and releasing energy from the few other electronic items they had left would either be inadequate or potentially deadly.  Even after years of study, he knew he did not quite have the same deep, fine biological control that an instinctive healer such as Cilghal possessed.  His own body was a living battery, but he had never attempted a Force technique for making any use of it that wouldn't involve Sith lightning, not to mention that he stood the chance of killing himself with such a wild endeavor.  After everything they'd been through and divulged to one another, Mara would sooner prefer to die than see him call upon the darkness as a solution to save her.

He would have to let her go.

You've defeated my clone, you've slain a mad Dark Jedi, you've braved vornskrs, you've prevented Thrawn's rebirth, you've spat in the face of death a dozen, a hundred times. Fight back, Mara. Fight back for us.

Again R2's welder came down on Mara's chest.  “Go!” he cried, and held his breath.

She convulsed a little harder than before.  This time R2 rolled backwards, knowing a third try was beyond its capacity.  Electrons dispersed haphazardly, depolarizing wayward cells, and for a split second her heart and his world were still.

Then he felt nerves fire in return, and it might as well have been the ignition of a new star.

Springing forward, Luke sealed his lips against hers and sighed out his pent-up conviction into her lungs, half the battle won.  That's it, Mara. Come on. You're almost there.  He breathed for her until he felt her diaphragm hitch, and sour water suddenly shot into his own mouth before he could detach; he rolled her onto her side as she gagged and coughed weakly.  Her pulse was rapid and thready at first, but gaining strength.  Hot pressure built up behind his eyes and a sob of relief escaped him.

“You did it, Artoo.”  There had been many times, Luke mused, when his faithful droid had been worth double its weight in platinum, and this was one more of them.  No, truly, R2 had no price.

Mara was breathing but not regaining consciousness; her eyes remained half-lidded and rolled back in their sockets.  Luke refocused his senses on her to try to discern any injuries she might have suffered from their brutal journey through the lake's drainage that had caused the hibernation trance to fail.  He shuddered to consider that it was his fault, that he had not done a thorough job in slowing down her functions and she had nearly drowned from his own hasty negligence.  He'd been so certain that it was effective when she'd gone to sleep in his arms.

Across her head, however, he picked up a glaring area of inflammation, and it soon became clear that she had indeed collided with something on the way.  It didn't lessen the pangs of guilt.  If only he'd managed to hang onto her the entire way…

He would have needed a greater level of consciousness, enough that he would have run out of oxygen sooner and drowned himself.  Or even slammed into the same spot she had, and neither of them would have survived.  He could perfectly picture her chiding him once more about uncontrollable factors.

“Mara,” Luke whispered, still afraid but now suffused with hope, “we're getting out of here. Hang on.”  The words were more for his own encouragement, for he knew she couldn't hear him.  He bent and brushed his lips against hers before carefully lifting her again, and set his concentration on healing her as he began to follow the river's path out of the caverns.