#if you asked this at literally any other time i could probably write a dissertation here but i’m still mad because it’s hot so 💀💀

[dem-obscure-imagines]

I Know the End | Vol. 2

I Know the End

Poe Dameron x Reader

Fandom: Star Wars

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vol 1. | Vol 2. | Vol 3. | Vol 4.

Charms in Trees

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

Sometimes you thought about taking it off of him.

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

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

So you did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re serious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Training.”

“Mmm. What time?”

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

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

“Oh yeah. Absolutely.”

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

“Go get them.”

“What, with the Force?”

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

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

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

“Could you…show me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“And you expect me to do…that?”

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

“Alright.” He nodded. “I can try.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well now you’ve got one.”

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

“How was the landing?”

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

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

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

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

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

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

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

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

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

“Great view.” You said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d love to.”

Rey nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

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

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

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

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

You smirked. “I wouldn’t complain.”

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

“Alright, alright.”

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

You hoped you all would be.

Cards on the Table

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So do you!” Rose complimented.

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

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

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

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

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

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

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

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

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

The more things changed…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you guys do this often?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

These Haunted Wounds

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want to talk about it?”

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

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

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

“Any time.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Crash

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m ready.”

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

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

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

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

“Reckless?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kylo Ren.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine. Are you?”

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

“You think the First Order has a Mariposan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/N)!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Poe…” You murmured, mouth impossibly close.

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

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

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

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

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

BB-8 beeped up at him, agitated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vintage Diplomacy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good. Meeting starts soon.”

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

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

“Cool jacket.”

“You like it?” He asked with a smirk.

“Yeah. Is it vintage?”

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

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

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

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

You wished they were right.

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

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

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

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

Chewbacca roared out his support.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe it was about time.

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

“How do I look?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This Changes Everything

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poe nodded, smiling. “I am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Artoo.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

“New pilots?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Little Rebel Spirit

Poe slept in your bed that night.

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

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

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

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

His jaw dropped. “No fucking way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does it feel good?”

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

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

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

“Just me?” He asked, absolutely enamored.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Miss what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maker, I’m so glad we found you…”

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

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

Your pilot. Your Poe.

Can’t Change the Past, Starlight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm. Sorry to hear that.” He said through a grin that he hid behind his mug. “I slept great.”

You kicked his leg under the table.

After breakfast, the group of you filed into the meeting, where you were somewhat surprised to see Lando, chatting with Leia. Once she spotted you, she motioned you over, hugging you tightly.

“I never doubted you, (Y/N), but I have to admit, I didn’t expect results like these. This changes everything.”

“I’m glad I could do my part, General.” You said, eyes glimmering. You turned to Lando. “Didn’t expect you to head here so fast.”

“How could I not? You need help. I should have been here a long time ago.” He said, slinging an arm around your shoulders. Just like old times. “I’m here for whatever you need, ladies. Just say the word.”

“Well right now, I need someone wrangling the new recruits. They need to be rounded up from outposts in the Outer Rim.” Leia said.

Lando saluted. “Just give me coordinates and a ship. I can make it happen.”

You left the two of them, turning to sit in your usual seat with the other Jedi. This meeting was a little more broad, more of the operatives from the middle ranks present in addition to the higher-ups.

Laesynda walked past, letting her hand brush on yours as she passed, a knowing smile on her face.

You avoided Poe’s gaze purposefully, but you could feel it on you from across the table. Business as usual, you supposed. He was always giving you those lovesick looks, but now there was something more in those warm brown eyes of his. You loved the feeling.

Leia started the meeting, opening with words of congratulations, the numbers from the previous night broken down in the projection on the holo in the middle of the room. The team burst into applause, several congratulative whoops and hollers sounding. Snap jostled Poe’s shoulder and he finally met your eyes, giving you that charming flyboy wink, handsome features illuminated in the teal light.

Leia moved to the next order of business, the intel Lando had been hard at work gathering. About Mariposas.

“The attack on Mariposas…I believe it was an inside job.” Lando said.

Your heart dropped into your stomach, ears ringing. You looked at Laesynda and she shared the same grim expression you were sure was on your face. You felt Poe’s eyes on you, watching as the rug was torn from beneath your feet.

“I don’t mean to impede on our celebration, I just…With three prominent Mariposans among our ranks, I think it’s a logical conclusion that…two of them were the targets of the original attack. So whoever tipped off the Empire splinter cells, if they’re still alive, could be interested in…”

“Finishing the job.” You said, suddenly exhausted.

“Yeah.” Lando nodded.

He brought up some diagnostics, a map of the planet, a breakdown of the attack. He talked those who were unfamiliar with it through what had happened. You watched as red bloomed across the Healer’s Temple, right where you were, blaster fire taking out the Refuge, where the Healers had retreated. A light attack up front to scare them, a heavy attack on their hiding spot to finish them off.

Immediately, you knew Lando was right. It was an inside job. Only someone who knew the innerworkings of the palace would have known the Healers retreated there in the case of an emergency. Someone who had grown up there, perhaps.

You bristled, watching as the attack continued, further details selling his point further. This was an attack that had been planned and executed by someone intimately familiar with your home. And someone who wanted you dead. Or at the very least, didn’t want you to wake up.

“Maddox.” The name left your mouth coated in venom. “My brother. Had to have been. Only the royal family would have known all of this, to exploit every weak spot in order.”

“Why would your brother…” Poe started, finally daring to speak up.

“He was jealous.” Laesynda said, the memories of him weighing her down, too. “Always jealous. He was the oldest, the heir to the throne. It still wasn’t enough for him. He was jealous (Y/N) was the Jedi of the family. Wanted it to be him.”

“Couldn’t have been our parents. I was asleep, Laesynda was ten. It had to have been Maddox.” You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “Maker, if he wanted me dead so bad, I don’t know why he didn’t just destroy my pod and kill me himself.”

“Because we were there.” Leia said, voice soft. “We were too late to stop the initial attack, but…Han and Lando got the shields up. I guarded your pod. Luke handled the cultists.”

You pressed your lips together, nodding. “Thank you.”

“By the time the fight was over, all of the Healers’ Pendants had been destroyed or…lost. We tried to use the Force to open your pod, but they were designed with that in mind. Only a healer could open it and they were…all gone.”

You took a long breath, nodding as she explained.

Lando looked at you, features apologetic. “And if he is indeed in the First Order, alive after all this time, it stands to reason that…he wouldn’t be happy that you’re awake again, your Highness.”

“Right. Do we have any…intel that he is? On either account, alive or currently working with the First Order?” You asked, adjusting your posture. Your wings twitched. Rey reached for your hand and you gave it to her, the touch comforting, albeit simple.

“Not yet, your Highness, but…We’re working to figure that out. I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page.” Lando said, turning the holo off with a click. “Wanted to make sure we all kept our guards up.”

Leia ran the team through a few other things, mostly preparation for new Resistance members she was anticipating. New quarters would have to be prepared, they’d have to arrange supplies and prepare to train dozens, maybe hundreds, of rookies.

After the meeting, you met Poe’s eyes for a moment. And then, you walked back to your quarters, paces brisk. Uncharacteristic of you to just leave one so early with no discussion of meal plans, no chatter with your peers, to just…disappear. Anyone who knew you would know there was something wrong. And Poe knew you.

The door slid shut behind you and you sat on the mattress, letting out a strangled yell, head in your hands, knees tucked up into your chest and wings flaring out behind you.

Your heart raced in the silence after the scream. The force of it, the Force of you had rattled the trinkets sitting on your dressers. You took a few breaths, leaning back against the wall and staring at the ceiling panel, tears streaming down your cheeks.

The door slid open again and Poe slipped inside, closing it behind him. He melted when he saw you there, looking utterly pathetic, you were sure.

“Hey, baby. You okay? That was some heavy stuff.” He crossed the room, sitting on the bed.

You shook your head and reached for him. He pulled you into his arms immediately, a large hand cradling your head, the other wrapped tight around you, legs draped over his. You buried your face in his shoulder, sobs muffled by his warmth.

He started tracing comforting patterns in your back, letting you get it all out before attempting to talk you through it.

“I feel so stupid, crying about it. It happened so long ago…” You confessed, voice soft and broken.

“Not for you.” Poe reasoned, pressing a kiss to your hairline. One gentle hand found your cheek and he used his thumb to gently wipe your tears away. “Everyone here knows it’s still fresh for you. Of course you’re torn up about it, I would be, too.”

You nodded, sniffling. “I always knew he hated me, but…I guess I just never knew how much. I thought after Endor, everything would cool off. But it doesn’t sound like that’s the case. It was quiet for a while, sure, but…I wasn’t here when things started getting bad. I wasn’t here to help when things got worse…”

He listened, empathy rooted deep in his warm brown eyes. “You’re here now.”

“Yeah, but…”

“What happened, happened. We can’t change the past, starlight.” He said, readjusting his hold, one arm cradling you while the other nestled against your cheek, still gently dabbing at your tears as they fell. “I’m just glad you’re here now. For selfish and unselfish reasons. Rey needs you. I need you. You’ve got a lot of good to do here, and you’ve already done so much.”

You nodded, absorbing his words. He was right. He always seemed to be. “What do you have going on today? Is there somewhere you need to be?”

“It can wait. I’m needed here.” He promised, pressing a kiss to your nose, gentle smile turning mischievous with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Besides, they’ll never find me in here.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. Poe never failed to bring a smile to your face, even when you were feeling like this.

“It’ll be alright, baby.” He reassured. The name still made your heart do flips in your chest. You much preferred it to your stuffy royal titles.

You sat further upright, kissing his soft pink lips. He kissed back, hand tilting your face just so with passionate precision. “I know it will. We’ll make sure of it this time.”

Rise of the Resistance

It wasn’t long before the new recruits started showing up. Lando ran what was akin to a shuttle service for a few weeks, running back and forth in a tiny transport, trying to avoid as much attention as possible. So far, it had worked.

The new folks were a bright bunch. Among them, Wedge Antilles, who had left behind his flight school, taking most of his pupils with him to help the cause.

“You know, as weird as this sounds, I missed it, Princess.” He admitted, hands on his hips, looking around the base, where soldiers ran in neat columns for their morning workout.

“Missed that Rebel air?”

He grinned. “Exactly that.”

Snap walked over, hugging him tightly and that was how you found out Wedge was Snap’s step-dad. Maker, it was a small galaxy after all. You and the other Jedi took a break from training, trying to help everyone get acclimated. You helped with giving tours, showed rookies where to get their breakfast and sleep, teaching them emergency protocol.

You set up a meditation room in an empty storage shed. It left something to be desired, but it was dimly lit, had some soft music playing, various toys and activities for Force training, cushions on the floor for those who could not float in the air while they meditated.

Aspen led some of the new recruits through while you were organizing your books.

“And this is Princess (Y/N) (L/N) of Mariposas, one of three Jedi we have on base.” She motioned to you. “If any of you think you might be Force-Sensitive, this is who you want to come to with questions.”

“We are always looking for new Jedi.” You said. “But this room is for everybody. If you need to get away for a bit, feel free to come here, do some meditation, read. It’s here for you. It gets rough out there, you need to take care of yourselves.”

Hours later, you had a tour group of your own, leading them through the comms center, then the mech workshop, droid repair, where BB-8 was getting a fresh paint job and beeped and whirred at you excitedly.

You led them past the hangar, where there were pilots milling around, about to head out on a perimeter check. Poe was there, stretching in that orange jumpsuit of his. You couldn’t fight the grin that formed when he spotted you, lighting up. He walked over, introducing himself to the group.

“Any pilots?” He asked, scanning your recruits, standing right next to you, hands on his hips, but his elbow brushing your side.

Professional. So, painfully professional.

“Reggie there.” You pointed him out and Reggie volunteered himself with a proud hand in the air.

“That’s the spirit. Welcome to the team, Reg.” He looked at you, glancing at your holo to take a peek at your schedule. “They’re not giving you too much trouble, I hope.”

“Nope, I’m all set with these guys. Bright bunch.” You replied, meeting those warm brown eyes, where mischief always seemed to sparkle.

“Right. Good. So, you don’t have anything penciled in after lunch?”

“I do not.” You confirmed.

“Alright. Well, uh, I’ve gotta hop in that X-Wing for perimeter checks. See you around, your Highness.” He promised, eyebrow quirked. He turned to Reggie. “Nice to meet you, Reggie. I’ll make sure you get acclimated.”

“Thank you, sir.” Reggie replied, starstruck.

You gave Poe a parting smile. Once the group had turned away, you glanced back. He motioned to the zipper of his jumpsuit, then looked at you with over-exaggerated expectation. Your jaw dropped and you rolled your eyes, laughing. Here in front of all of these people was not where you intended to use the Force to unzip his jumpsuit.

Still, you pinched your fingers together, focusing for a moment as you tugged it down the tiniest bit, just enough to tease him. He gasped, clearly not expecting you to actually do it. The way his eyes lit up, though, you could tell he was into it. Perhaps too into it.

The group didn’t notice, too busy buzzing about their future roles. Some of them were buzzing about other topics, like how hot your boyfriend was.

You moved them along to the next spot on the tour, but one of them pushed.

“Who was that?”

“Who, Commander Dameron?”

“He’s a Commander.” She giggled with the girl beside her. They couldn’t have been older than nineteen. It was kind of cute, admittedly. Harmless.

“Wow, he is something.” The other one agreed.

“Best pilot in the galaxy, in fact.” You chimed, heart surging with pride at your overly casual words. “I do think he’s seeing someone though, ladies.”

They both let out dramatic sighs. “Well, whoever they are, I hope they know how lucky they are.”

You chuckled, watching as his X-Wing pulled off into the air, doing a barrel roll right above the group. Now he was showing off. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t do something to you. “Oh she does.”

***

You ate lunch with Rey and Soren, welcoming a few of the new recruits to your table. Finn was busy with tours, too, training people to do various upkeep tasks around the base, keeping everything running smoothly. Poe was standing in the doorway and Rey looked up at him, then glanced at you, then back at him again.

“I think he’s trying to get your attention.” She chuckled, stabbing at the remains of her salad with a fork.

“Oh, is he?” You replied through a smile, still trying to keep up the act.

“I think he’s into you, you know. Finn and I talk about it sometimes.” She said, tone encouraging. “And he is his roommate. And his best friend.”

“Are you implying Finn has some information I should know?” You asked.

She laughed. “I very well may be. Honestly though, you should just go for it. I’ve never seen him look at anyone like that. May as well give it a shot.”

“Yeah.” You smiled at that. “Maybe I’ll go see what his deal is.”

“Good luck.” Rey said, watching as you crossed the room to where he was waiting in the doorway.

You met him with a cordial, professional smile. “Commander Dameron, is there something I can help you with?”

“Actually, yes, there is, Your Royal Highness.”

“Woah, busting out the big title? What’s the special occasion?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to take a walk down the hall with me.”

“Down the hall.” You said with a chuckle, pushing past him and leading him in that direction. Once you were out of earshot of the canteen, you muttered, “How romantic.”

“Oh I’ll show you romantic, Princess.” He replied, tugging open a closet door and grabbing your arm, pulling you inside. He locked the door with a careful click and then he was on you, calloused hands on your cheeks, lips fluid and hungry.

“Poe,” you mumbled into his lips, taken aback, heart revving like an engine.

“You wanna unzip it the rest of the way?” He asked, the rasp in his voice alone telling you he had been thinking about it all morning.

“That did something to you, huh?” You giggled into his mouth as he latched back on, his steps pushing until you hit the wall behind you.

“Sure did.” He agreed, releasing you and holding his arms open, orange jumpsuit there and ready for you, zipped nearly to the top. “Do it.”

“You sure?” You asked, raising a hand, wiggling your fingers with a coy smile on your face.

“Quit teasin’ me, baby.” He warned.

You bit back a laugh, focusing the zipper. You pinched your fingers together and pulled downwards, the zipper falling at your will without either of you touching it. He stared at it for a long moment, that  dangerous spark in his eyes again before he surged forward.

“That is…wow.” He murmured, fire behind his words. One hand cupped your cheek, the other holding your waist as he stepped closer, closer, closer, slotting himself between your legs.

You grabbed the sides of the jumpsuit, pulling it open, working it down his broad shoulders to reveal the thin white undershirt beneath. On top of it, the silver chain he always wore, a simple silver ring threaded through it. A ring you recognized as Shara’s.

“Rey and I had a…conversation…at lunch.” You said between kisses.

“Mmhmm, ‘bout what?” He asked, tilting your head and kissing down your neck. His other hand roamed lower, brushing across one of your wings, sending tingles up your arms.

You let out a shuttered breath, head tilting back against the wall. “She thinks…” another sigh escaped you as he continued to kiss the spot, jaw movements clouding your vision with stars, “you might be into me.”

His lips curled, poised over the vein on your neck. He paused for a moment. “Oh she does, does she?”

“Yeah, she has it on pretty good authority, apparently.” You said, daring to look down at him, at those dark, sultry eyes.

“Yeah, well, she’s not far off.” He breathed, going back in for your neck, determined to leave a mark in the short window of time you had before you and Soren were doing your ground perimeters. “I’m fucking obsessed with you, starlight.”

You moaned at his passioned ministrations on your neck, fingers threading through those lucious curls and giving a gentle tug. His hands hooked under your thighs and he hoisted you onto his hips, your back pressed against the wall of the tiny closet.

You met his eyes, breathless, wings fanned out behind you. “I can’t believe I get to have you, Poe Dameron.”

“Believe it.” He asserted, nose brushing against yours on the way to your lips. You cupped his cheeks with your hands, kissing all over his face before returning. “Kriff, I still wake up every day in disbelief that I get to do this in a closet with a Jedi Princess.”

“We won’t be in closets forever.” You whispered, eyes locking on his. It was a promise. Someday, everyone would know. It wouldn’t have to be a secret anymore.

He nodded, grinned. “Yeah, but…it is kinda thrilling, right?”

“Can’t argue with that.”

His eyes drifted down to your neck and he pulled a plush pink lip between his teeth, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Hey, uhhh…you have a turtleneck you can wear, right?”

Your jaw fell open. “You did not.”

“I might’ve.”

“You might’ve?” You shook your head. “Poe Dameron, what am I going to do with you?”

He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes half-lidded, lips ghosting across yours as he whispered, “More of this, I hope.”

***

Another week came and went. More recruits arrived, but things had hit something of a plateau. Still, your numbers were excellent, a far cry from the shell of a Resistance that had been left after Crait.

Poe was giving the new pilots a walk around the base, all of them suited up in their bright orange jumpsuits, having been fitted for them for the first time. You and Soren were out and about, dressed in your Jedi robes, lightsabers clipped to your belts. You must have just finished some training, he rationalized.

He noticed how some of the pilots in his group stared, watching the two of you with interest. He figured many of them had probably never seen a Jedi before. Hell, he hadn’t until Rey had moved those rocks from the mouth of the tunnel they’d all been trapped inside on that blasted salt planet.

“Is that one the Jedi Princess or the other Jedi?” one of the new pilots asked, voice hushed, as though you could hear his very thoughts at that distance.

“That one is the princess. You can tell by the wings.” Snap explained. “Poe’s good friends with her.”

Good friends. He thought to himself with a chuckle. Just like you and Karé are “good friends.”

“Is she single? Could you put in the good word?” another asked, earning elbows and enthusiastic hollers from his teammates.

Snap laughed out loud, glancing over at Poe, who could feel his ears burn. Cheeks, too.

“Oh, uhhh, Jedi actually aren’t allowed to fall in love.” He lied through a charming smile. “Believe me, I asked her myself. Breaks some ancient Jedi code or something. Sorry, fellas.”

The rookie pilots let out noises of disappointment and Poe couldn’t help but laugh to himself. There. That’d keep them off of you.

“They’re not, huh?” Snap asked, voice quiet enough that the others couldn’t hear. He motioned to you with his head. “Might want to tell her that.”

Snap was right. Poe glanced over and you were looking at him with that starry-eyed gaze. So lovesick he lost track of his footing, tripping right over BB-8, who had been rolling in front of him.

“Poe!”

Bee let out a series of disgruntled beeps and buzzes and he chuckled, embarrassed. He scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry, Bee. You okay, buddy?”

Bee beeped up at you, seemingly unharmed. He was a sturdy little guy, after all.

“I agree, he needs to watch where he’s going.” You said, hands on your hips. You offered one, helping him to his feet. “You hear that, Dameron?”

“Loud and clear, your Highness.” He chuckled, brushing himself off.

“No serious damage?”

“Not that I can find.” Poe blew the hair from his eyes.

You reached up and plucked a single leaf from his curls, handing it to him. “There. For your collection.”

“Thanks, I’ll put it with the rest of ‘em.” He said with a smirk. Poe turned to the assembled rookies, who were murmuring amongst themselves. “Pilots, Princess (Y/N), Princess (Y/N), our new crop of pilots. Get acquainted with her. If you crash in the middle of a fight, she’s the one that’s gonna catch your X-Wing.”

“If it doesn’t blow up before that.” Snap added, earning a few unsettled laughs from the group.

It was a dangerous job. You’d always known that. You liked to think that you helped protect them when you could. When it was possible to. But Poe was always taking a risk when he climbed into that cockpit, even for something as simple as checking perimeters. He knew it, too, which is what made him so damn brave.

“Right. That.” Poe agreed with a bitter chuckle. “How was training?”

“Good. Making progress.” You said, shrugging. You and Soren hadn’t done anything groundbreaking, just sparring. But still, it felt good, like you were both making habits, challenging each other and learning little quirks of battle.

“Good. Good. Well, see ya around.” He gave your arm an awkward little touch.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you returned to Soren, who had a knowing look on his face. You knew then that he knew. That that Jedi intuition had finally clocked what was going on. But he didn’t say anything. Saved you the trouble of explaining yourself, why you were hiding it. 

The Resistance had enough going on. They didn’t need the drama of one of the Jedi entangled with their ace pilot. Especially if something went wrong.

Tags: @cap-lu20

[peachjagiya]

https://www.tumblr.com/peachjagiya/747638524276293632/i-feel-like-all-these-anons-writing-dissertations?source=share

I don't know if this is in response to the ask i sent you yesterday but if it is, please understand that i wasn't trying to tell you to stop believing in ur ship. That is your prerogative and you have a right to believe in what you want to believe in. It's not like my "essays" are going to change your mind anyway.

I was only pointing out what is think is a flaw in your logic especially because i saw u complaining of jikookers talking about a pic being deleted and i was pointing out that if you think Jk posting a pic only with Tae on his instagram is "special" then couldn't the other group of shippers say the same thing about Jk only having a selfie with Jimin on his WV ? What is the difference? I don't think who Jk chooses to post and not post on his socials is what determines who is most special to him and i'm sure in real life, most of you know this. If he takes a picture which he thinks is cool, he would most probably post it regardless of who it is. I am married and have been for over 5 years but i only have one picture of my s/o on my socials but i have tons of pics with friends and acquaintances. Do u think i posted more people than my s/o because they mean more to me? absolutely not lol. I even rarely take photos with my s/o at all so if someone had to judge how special my s/o is to me by looking at things like socmed posts they would probably think i hate him lol.

You created a blog to talk about and appreciate the bond of two people u believe could be in a relationship and it is normal to like seeing only or mostly people who agree with you but please don't think that anyone who disagrees with or questions your logic on certain things is out to disprove your ship or make you stop believing in them. Look at my ask again, not once did i ask you to stop believing in your ship. i only asked that you stop making big deals out of things that could literally apply to any other pair. Some of u talk about those things and see them as decisive proof that these boys have to be together but the truth is that, it really isn't mainly because those things aren't exclusive to the two you ship, that's the point i am trying to make.

So please stop coming out with your pitchforks and knives whenever someone challenges your logic because we all know the excuses and excess copium that will follow, the moment Jk wakes up and does something "special' for some other member especially if it is Jimin.

Plus if you had an answer to the question that i asked (which imo is a fair question) you would have provided it but you don't and deep down you probably see some sense in what i am saying and that is why you responded the way you did.

sorry about the "many words". I am just passionate i guess.

So please stop coming out with your pitchforks and knives whenever someone challenges your logic

It's less pitchforks and knives and more... tired of being condescended to.

I really don't mind my logic being challenged. I've answered plenty of questions about my logic. But I think you must see how condescending it is to assume that I'm absolutely blind to logic so it's your moral duty to correct my brain. It's my brain! It's not your brain! You really don't need to worry what I'm doing with it!

That's why I am kind of dubious when it's a lot of words because I feel like one question would be challenging my logic and I'm happy to get into it. Paragraph after paragraph is like being hauled in front of the headmaster at school and told I'm stupid. I wouldn't waste my time if I didn't have valid reasons for finding Taekook a bit more than friends.

because we all know the excuses and excess copium that will follow, the moment Jk wakes up and does something "special' for some other member especially if it is Jimin.

Especially if it's Jimin? Huh? I don't differentiate between Jimin and the other five? I don't know what experiences you've had with other TKKrs but I don't have the same grudge against Jimin you've experienced. If he comes out and posts a bathroom picture with Jimin at an OT7 dinner, I will be like "Oh look, a selca of JK and Jimin" and probably some thirsty comment about one or both of them being hot tbh.

Plus if you had an answer to the question that i asked (which imo is a fair question) you would have provided it but you don't and deep down you probably see some sense in what i am saying and that is why you responded the way you did.

It was 5am. 5am Peach wasn't up for it but I'm more alive now.

I think the mistake a lot of people, TKKr and JKKr alike, make is that they hinge their entire argument on individual moments. Atomix becomes this huge thing and the second it gets challenged, everyone melts down gloating or getting defensive.

So often, one will come at the other with "Here's why this particular 0.6 seconds in time was NOT special." Ok? Great? You got me? I try to look at them as more of a whole picture and that's how I end up thinking it's different.

So there's a picture of Jimin and JK on Weverse. I don't know the context of it, I have to admit. Was it at an OT7 event? Were they just together? (I don't think your point about deleting instagram applies here because I don't think he can delete Weverse when BTS are entwined with it really.)

But let's take it as it is: A selca of Tae and JK in 2021, a selca of JK and Jimin in 2019.

The reason I find one of them special and one of them less so is not because it's a selca but it's a selca alongside all the other stuff I believe to be true. Does that make sense? Its not just a selca. It's a selca and seeing each other in their hiatus a decent amount and touching and closeness and some suspicious instances and a history of interaction that feels different to me. The selca is just a part of a wider picture.

And this applies to any one piece of the jigsaw. I'm sure you could find JK snuggling Hobi or Jin too. You could find examples of JK spending time at Jimin's house. Does the REST of the picture apply though? I don't personally find that the wider picture of his relationship with any other member rings out as romantic to me. I do find Taekook to be romantic based on a lot of different things, not just individual pieces. That's what I'm saying.

I've now said selca so many times that it doesn't look like a real word anymore. 😂

Ultimately, this is a Taekook blog. I don't want to live in an echo chamber but I didn't really start it to feel like I'm being told off by people I don't know. I don't think you should leave as such but is this the space for you?

Please don't worry about my logic. I'm either wrong and we'll all survive...

Or I'm right. And we'll all survive.

[carefulfears]

As someone fascinated by David Duchovny’s movie filmography from a distance, I have to ask what it’s like for you in the trenches. What’s been your favorite and least favorite movies he’s been in? Did you watch the secret? Were there any movies you thought were bad that he was inexplicably good in? You’re gods bravest soldier.

OMG this is like my favorite question i've ever gotten, thank you so much for asking me this. i was just saying privately that i feel kinda bad coming back on tumblr rn when i've spent so so much time and energy studying duchovny's work (i could write a literal dissertation. might.) that it's really the lens i see everything through right now and all i wanna talk about lol...so y'all please feel free if there's anything you're ever curious about or want me to expand on, to ask.

i started this little project after receiving a difficult medical diagnosis, when i really needed a project in the midst of doctor appointments and painful, traumatizing life changes. i didn't tell anyone what i was going through for 4 months, so i couldn't really talk about what my days were like, and really just needed something else...i started watching californication 3 days after finding out, and just really loved it. that show means so much to me, in so many ways, and i didn't expect it to.

and it just kind of went from there, i loved seeing him work in cali. it was something so crazy and brilliant and almost electrifying to see this performer really in it, and plugged in, and interested, and invested, in a way that you can see on the x-files but not at the same consistency and intensity. everywhere that he was sometimes indifferent or bored or inexperienced as mulder, he's doubly hitting every mark as hank moody. it's more than a series-defining performance and it's just great to watch someone excel at what they do like that.

and as i kept watching his work i became really fascinated with this dynamic i was seeing where he could either be hitting it that hard, one of the best you've ever seen, transcending the material....or he could just kind of be there....and it seemed to depend on very little more than his mood. or whether he was interested. or whether he was well-cast? i ran into this phenomenon eventually where it seemed like directors/producers were casting him for the name without really utilizing or playing to his strengths, or even understanding what those were.

i have rankings of his films on my letterboxd: you can check my lists for my ultra specific ones, but this is my general ranking. my favorite is still and forever the rapture, which i wrote an essay about last summer. as far as the worst...full frontal and new years day suck ass. phantom is just boring, and odd in a dull way. you people is netflix's most unfunny and uncomfortable original. and house of d...is what it is.

i adore the secret. i've seen it 3 times and have it on DVD. i don't expect any person alive other than me to like it, but i'm just obsessed with it. i've tried to write about it so many times and never make it past the obvious discomfort, i just feel like i've lost every reader before i even say anything. but i find it to be a really interesting look into family and self and marriage and actualization and, yes, sex, and i love it.

movies that are bad but he's good in them.....probably louder than words. that movie is insufferable to watch, i'm sorry. i did write about it once for a newsletter that i never published. it's like this pseudo-hallmark feel-good philanthropic dead kid movie (based on a real dead kid and family which is why i'm sorry for trashing it) but it's so cheaply made and flat. duchovny plays the grieving dad, the character that the story revolves around, because he's the person that the family revolves around. including the three older children that his wife (played beautifully by hope davis, this movie really should be better than it is) had before they were married.

after the loss of his only biological child to a rare case of rabies, "dad" goes from strong and silent to "a zombie." and the family really struggles without both their "glue" of a baby sister, and dad.

he's great in it!! hope davis is great in it!! and it has a lot of really interesting roots about grief and blended families and fatherhood. one letterboxd review pointed out that "duchovny has always been great at playing fathers," and the movie really plays on that. it just isn't a good movie, the editing and the script aren't there.

otherwise, some of my favorite performances, in films that i love:

/ julia has two lovers

i love this movie so much but i'll keep it to the point and say that if they'd made 5, 10, or 20 movies like this- david duchovny would have been a movie star. i have this joke, that i've seen a lot of david duchovny movies and never once been like "you know who was great in that movie? david duchovny."

julia has two lovers is my "you know who was great in that movie?" movie.

he is so delicious in that film and it isn't just sexuality, it's vulnerability and gentleness and suavity.

the entire first hour, that's just the 2 characters on the phone, feels so special to me and is one of my favorite moments in film ever...but the scene that i always go back to in terms of his performance is when daphna kastner's julia has been assaulted by her fiancé and she's in the bath crying- still on the phone with duchovny's daniel. and he wants to cheer her up, and he looks like a nervous little boy trying to (as he describes) make his mother feel better. but he tells her this story from his childhood until she starts laughing and the tension breaks, and i just love this quiet hesitation in both that scene and that character. there is a vulnerability to it, with them both in various states of undress, both sharing pieces of themselves with a wrong number phone call stranger, and it plays out beautifully.

the film was sexual in a way that was extreme at the time, and very focused on women's sexuality. it was so low-budget (cost less to make than a tv commercial), and it was never released on DVD or digital. and it plays to his strengths, in a way that's rare to see in a lot of these films. i see a lot in julia has two lovers of what would go on to sky-rocket the x-files, and ground californication.

/ connie and carla

this movie is a riottttt it is literally never not fun and entertaining but there is one ultra quick and specific moment that stands out to me.

connie and carla revolves largely around a gay community in los angeles (specifically the drag community), and peripherally a performer named robert's struggles to reconnect with his brother, david duchovny's jeff, after the estrangement and homophobia in their family.

duchovny is great in this movie, it's the kind of comedic work that he excels in, and it literally has me howling every time. i have videos somewhere from the first time i watched it of me just falling apart hysterically laughing at some of his scenes.

but the emotional peak is when jeff goes to robert's apartment to tell his brother that he's sorry. that he should have stood up for him, he should have accepted him, he should have just loved him. and they discuss their parents, and the truth of what happened in their family.

there's this moment afterwards where he goes to leave and robert thinks that he's walking out, but he kind of doubles back and leans down to hug him quickly, very awkwardly.

i just loved that and i think it's dd at some of his best, this kind of uncomfortable effort.

it also always reminds me of californication's slow happy boys, the episode where hank moody's high school best friend comes to visit and he's a total fucking nightmare. there's a similar moment in the end where hank drops his friend off at the airport and hugs him clumsily while stammering "i love you. i love you."

again, connie and carla plays to his strengths!! i've written about before how duchovny is at his best playing men with good intentions. with their heart in the right place, and a lot complicating that. and i think that movie is a great wacky comedy that lends to it.

/ the tv set

this movie is like cocomelon to me i love it. and i honestly won't talk about it much because there isn't a lot to discuss, you kind of just have to see it. it's very funny, with a great cast (justine bateman!! judy greer!! two californication guest stars that i would've loved to see him work with a million times) and i always just enjoy watching it.

duchovny really grounds this movie in a way that i find to be so subtle and compelling, he carries the comedy as far as it can go but also holds 100% of the dramatic burden. everything serious or weighted in it you have to get just from watching his face and body language, and you can.

the look on his face in the last scene, with television set by joel plaskett playing over him, is exceptional!! one of those moments where i feel that he's just on the top of his game, understanding a character and what is happening to him, and following through. that final moment changes the tone of the film and it's all in the look on his face.

/ the joneses

another movie that i love that i also find to be a prime example of smart casting...i've intended for a long time to write at length about this one (and i still might) but in simple terms, the joneses wants to sell you something. the family that it's about, the joneses, want to sell you something. and it's the only film that i feel took advantage of one thing i mentioned earlier: casting for the name. while also playing to the strengths of each performer.

the joneses positions demi moore, david duchovny, amber heard, and benjamin hollingsworth as walking and talking advertisements. influencers before a truly digital age. i won't go too far into it, because there are several twists that you just have to see for yourself, but it positions itself on the premise that everyone wants what these 4 people have.

and it wants to sell you david duchovny, just as much as every movie poster does. as demi moore's character says: "when you want to, you can be quite handsome. and extremely charming."

the movie depends on that, just as much as the characters do. the movie is relying on the fact that you will go see a david duchovny picture, just as much as the characters rely on those around them buying david duchovny's life.

i think it's perfectly cast, well acted, and extremely meta in a way that's wildly culturally relevant. but it also exploits a factor that i feel had previously held him back: the idea that you will just want whatever this person has.

there is so much that could be said on this topic because i find it to be so rich, and have loved exploring it, but there's a bit of what i've learned!! thanks again for the question, love u!!

[ptersparkers]

scenes from a diner (three)

summary: a small diner off of a freeway exit becomes a sacred meeting place for you and aaron hotchner.

notes: at this point, this lil series is just me living in my own head. some of you asked to be tagged so i hope you enjoy! x

warnings: typical criminal minds violence and typos, probably. 

series masterlist

***

“No way,” comes Betty’s voice from the other end of the line. 

You’re sitting in your office on campus, waiting for your next meeting with a student. Betty’s also a PhD candidate (albeit in a different department), but she’s not on campus today. It’s one in the afternoon and you know she gets off of her shift in an hour. It mustn't be busy if she’s able to hold a conversation with you. If there’s one thing you hate about Betty, it’s that she doesn’t have any classes on Friday. 

“Yes way,” you reply, putting your head between your hands. 

While you didn’t end up dreaming of Aaron when you fell asleep, he was your first thought when you woke up and you were sure you were going crazy. You remembered the way he looked in his button up, the way he loosened his tie, and the way he walked you to your car when the night ended. You could see him through your rearview mirror as you drove out of the parking lot and it took everything inside of you to keep driving. 

“He’s such a gentleman,” Betty says through the phone. She sighs for dramatic effect and you can hear faint chatter and the bar music in the background. “God, your life is literally a Nicholas Sparks book.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining. I’m seeing him again today.”

“Shut up,” Betty squeals. “Like, are you guys going on a date?”

“We’re meeting back at the diner,” you explain. “We haven’t even exchanged phone numbers, Betty. I don’t think we know each other well enough to go on a date.”

“That’s what dates are for,” she emphasizes. “To get to know each other. You know, like dating.”

It’s easy to lose yourself in your daydreams, particularly when Aaron’s involved. This is all so new to you; the idea of a perfect gentleman entering your life seemed like it would happen to anyone but you. Your ideas of romance from your childhood bring themselves to the forefront of your memory and you find your mind wondering about what could be. 

Even with Betty’s encouraging comments and Aaron seemingly interested in you, you’re a bit shocked that this seemingly fairytale-like chance encounter happened to you. You’ve never felt quite in your own skin when it comes to relationships and have had your fair share of moments where you’ve quietly stepped off to the side because people have approached your friends. The awkward high school days of watching your friends experience their first dates, kisses, and romances have never been lost on you. People chalked it up to being a late bloomer, but a small voice in the back of your head told you otherwise. Aaron wanting to spend time with you just as much as you wanted to spend time with him is a strange feeling, but it’s not unwelcomed.

You hum. “I guess. But it was really late and we were both tired. At least one of us said something.”

“I will beat your ass if you don’t get his number this time,” Betty says. “I’m serious, Y/N. This could very well be the start of something great. Magical, even.”

Oh, Betty. She’s a romantic. 

“We’ll see,” is all you offer. “Sometimes I feel so awkward around him. Did I mention that he works for the Behavioral Analysis Unit?” 

“No way! Isn’t that what you’re studying for?”

“Close,” you chide. “I don’t think I want to work for the FBI but they use a lot of analytical tools that I’m writing about for my dissertation.”

“If that isn’t reason enough to jump his bones, then I don’t know what is,” Betty replies. “It’s like the universe pushed you two together for a reason. He catches bad guys and you can pick his brain.”

“I don’t know about that. We spent most of last night working anyway.”

“At the same table,” Betty points out. 

“We somewhat got to know each other. He told me he's from Seattle and moved to D.C. to escape the rain.”

“I don’t blame him,” Betty says. From the way she tuts, you can tell she’s grimacing on the other end. Betty’s not a fan of heavy downpour. 

“He asked about my family,” you say quietly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

 “It’s okay,” you reply with a shrug. “I mean, he didn’t know.”

“Yeah, but after years of hearing you talk about people asking you about your family out of the blue, I can imagine it gets hard.” 

“You’re not wrong.” 

You hear a knock at the door and see your next appointment pop their head in and you motion for them to come inside. 

“I’ll call you later,” you say, hanging up the phone when she makes a point to tease you about Aaron once more. 

You push your feelings aside for now. 

***

By the time it’s three o’clock, you’re walking into the diner. It’s a bit more packed than usual for a Friday afternoon, but you pay for a cup of coffee (Jade, your least favorite former coworker, is working the register and she makes you pay for all of the coffee you consume) before taking a seat at the next available booth. Another waiter you don’t recognize brings you your coffee and you politely thank him.

You decide not to pull out the stack of papers you have left to grade. While waiting for Aaron, you absentmindedly scroll through your phone (Instagram is your favorite way to pass the time) and make a mental note of things you need to buy from Target when the weekend approaches. It’s a long list and you grimace when you think about how much money you’ll eventually be spending. 

It’s fifteen minutes past three and you’re starting to worry. You figure he’s running late from a meeting or something else of equal importance, but you sit anxiously in your seat that has become warm. 

You curse yourself for not asking for his phone number last night. You rationalize that Aaron had been the one to ask to see you again, and that has to mean he genuinely wanted to see you again, right? Another ten minutes goes by and you’ve become a little annoyed at his lack of appearance and stare at everything between the kitchen and the people sitting in the booths. You look ahead at the entrance with every chime of the doorbell and you’re constantly disappointed when you don’t see a pristine suit-wearing gentleman walk through the doors. 

You try not to let your insecurities get the better of you, but your mind flashes back to every instance where you felt like you were short from being the girl people wanted to get to know. It’s hard to think otherwise when it seems like everyone meets the love of their life while you’re forced to watch from the sidelines.  

Rudy walks by your table a minute later and he shoots back to you when he passes your spot. 

“Hey, kiddo!” Rudy greets. You give him a closed-mouth smile and try not to let your disappointment show. He’s holding a few dirty plates in one hand and fishes inside of his shirt pocket for a small white card and hands it to you. 

“What’s this?” you ask. 

“Aaron stopped by the diner a little bit ago and said he had to leave town,” Rudy explains. “He told me to give that to you when you came.” 

Rudy leaves after you take the card from him and you sit back in your seat with a small frown. This must be the intense workload Aaron talked about. 

You see the FBI’s insignia on the card, as well as his office’s phone and extension. You’re apprehensive about whether or not to give him a call because you don’t want to bother him while he’s at work, but if Aaron told Rudy to give you his business card, it must mean he wants to. That’s what you rationalize to yourself. 

Frankly, you sit with the card in your hands for a few minutes, trying to come up with the best plan of action (which you realize is useless, considering nothing bad will come out of calling the number). Would it be rude of you to call him while he’s at work? Is he expecting you to call him? What if he gave Rudy his card so he’d never have to face you again?

You realize the last thought is just your fear of rejection talking, so you dial his number and his extension. It goes to voicemail. 

You wonder if you’re bothering him by calling him. Maybe he declined the call because he was busy. Or maybe he didn’t have his phone on him. Maybe he didn’t want to talk to you at all. You try to push self-deprecating thoughts out of your head. 

His email sits below his phone number and you pull out your laptop and craft a message before you can think about it.

‘Aaron,

I hope you’re well. I’m sure receiving this email from me is going to come off as a bit strange, but I figured you might expect one from me since you told Rudy to give me your business card. I tried calling your office extension but it went to voicemail. So email it is. 

Anyway, hi! I’m currently sitting in the diner and it’s a bit more crowded than I anticipated. The coffee’s burnt, but I suppose that’s what diner coffee is. 

I’m not sure where you are but I’m going to assume you’re in a meeting or working, and you can’t step away from your office. It’s okay, though. I’ll have enough coffee for the both of us. 

Best, Y/N’

You reread the email and change the structure of each sentence before ultimately deciding that there’s no “perfect” message you could send him. It reads decent enough, less formal but more formal than familiar. You type his email, double check that you typed it currently, and send it. 

You choose not to obsess over your inbox to see if he emailed you back. Instead, you get to work and keep your promise about drinking coffee for him and for yourself.

***

Betty’s on her way to your apartment after a brief agreement to go out on a Friday night. 

Before she arrives, you check your email once last time. It’s been gnawing at you all afternoon and you’re pleasantly surprised that you made it two hours without checking your inbox. The anticipation gets to you as you sit on your couch with your phone in your hand, and your heart leaps out of your chest when you see his name.

‘Y/N,

I’m well, thank you for asking. I’m sorry about standing you up today - my team and I had to travel out of state for a case we got called into. Part of the job intensity. Sorry again.

As for your email, I don’t think it’s strange. Happy to hear from you, especially since I left you stranded at the diner (again, I apologize). I hope the coffee was as good as can be and that you got some work done. 

I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I’d love to get a cup of coffee with you soon.

All the best, Aaron’

You feel your cheeks heat up. You’re slightly disappointed that you didn’t see Aaron today but your worries are put to rest when you realize he was preoccupied with work. You know it’s presumptuous of you to think he might be blowing you off (considering neither of you know each other that well), but it makes you feel better nonetheless. 

You type out a response.

‘Aaron,

All is forgiven. I hope you and your team make it back safely. No need to apologize. 

Phew! Glad to hear that you’re not weirded out. I typed out a million drafts before deciding to just send you an email…I think Rudy could tell I was overthinking it. I don’t mean to bother you at all. 

As for coffee, I’d love to. 

Looking forward to it, Y/N’ 

You send the email and close your phone when Betty texts you that she’s on her way up. Feeling bold, you unlock your phone and reply to your previous email with your phone number and tell him to give you a call or text you when he has the time. 

Betty’s knocking on your door and you can already smell the scent of Thai food from behind it. Aaron’s email is long forgotten when you dig into the meal and the both of you decide that, after this long and strange week, it’s the perfect opportunity to pretend you have the energy to party like undergrads again.  

It’s nightfall when you and Betty find yourselves in a familiar bar near your apartment. The bartender, Mike, seems a little too interested in Betty and keeps supplying the both of you with free drinks. It’s enough to make your head spin in the best way and Betty’s not exactly denying the attention either. 

You’re on your third drink (not including the shots you took at your apartment) when your phone rings. The both of you are sitting in a relatively quiet part of the bar, so you don’t make the effort to walk outside to take the phone call. When you look at the contact, you don’t recognize it.

“Hello?” you say into the phone. 

“Y/N?” 

It’s Aaron.

Oh God, it’s Aaron. 

You aren’t sobering up any time soon, that much you know for sure. You’re still dizzy, even though you’re sitting on a stool and your back is against the wall. Betty’s at the bar, flirting with Mike and trying to get the next round for free (again) as you’re finishing your drink from the little plastic straw. You know you’d spill on yourself otherwise. 

“Hi,” is what you offer. Your inebriated brain can’t handle your awkwardness. “Oh my God, hi Aaron.”

Did your voice go up two octaves?

Aaron chuckles from the other side. 

“Hi, Y/N.” God. The way he says your name makes you swoon. “I wanted to call and apologize for standing you up.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you say a little too quickly. “It’s fine, really.”

“I feel bad that I wasn’t able to tell you before I left. It got a little crazy at work.”

“I’ll bet,” you reply. You finish your drink and can hear the slurping of the ice.

“Are you out?” Aaron asks, amused. You’re sure you can hear the teasing tone in his voice and you know you’re going to hate yourself for being drunk while talking to Aaron on the phone when you wake up.

“Me and Betty are at a bar near my place,” you say, slurring your words. “I had two drinks, no three? Plus a lot of alcohol at home.”

Aaron’s laugh is deep and it sends you into a wave of pleasure. 

“Betty?” he asks.

“My best friend,” you explain. “Since I moved to D.C.”

“I hope you and Betty are having a great night,” he muses. “Can’t say the same for me, though.”

You pout. “Why not?”

“Too much stress,” he says. “Nothing I can talk about right now, but let’s just say I’ll have my fair share of paperwork when I get back.”

“All the more reason to see you at the diner, Aaron.” 

Oh God, were you flirting? 

You hear Aaron chuckle. His laugh is so attractive, but you don’t tell him that. 

“Sure is,” says Aaron. “I anticipate being home in a few days. Maybe we can meet at the diner when I’m back?”

“I would love that, Aaron.” 

You don’t know what you hate more, the fact that you can’t stop saying his name or the fact that he clearly knows you want to see him. Your drunk-mindedness doesn’t let you linger on it for too long. 

“I’d love that too.” 

You see Betty approach the table with two glasses in hand. 

“Who’s that?” she asks. 

“Betty, I presume?” Aaron asks from the other line. 

“Yes,” you say as Betty raises her eyebrow in confusion. You turn to her. “It’s Aaron.”

“Like, hot Aaron?” she squeals. You pull the phone away from her and your cheeks redden. You pray that Aaron didn’t hear that. 

“Betty, please shut up,” you plead. Betty just laughs and takes another sip of her drink, pushing yours in your direction. You put your phone back to your ear. “I’m sorry, Betty’s a chatterbox when she’s drunk.”

“You’re one to talk!” Betty exclaims from beside you. 

“It’s okay,” Aaron laughs. He doesn’t let you know that he heard her comment to save you from embarrassment. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Aaron,” you hiccup. 

“Get home safely, Y/N. I’ll see you soon.” 

***

taglist: @darkenwolfie @ssamorganhotchner @realdirectionx​ <3

[swamp-gremlin]

My Old Nick hc's, interpretation, analysis, and other odd bits PT.2

Part 1

I really did not expect to have this much to say about him but I'm also not surprised

Read the previous part because I'll be building off the first one here

Only TW is broken bones and lightish body horror but then again its just kinda bleak

Playing off the hc that Nick its literally just slowly rotting away, thats why i typically draw him with like frost bite wounds, and for a reason why his physical condition fluctuates every time i draw him is that his physical condition and power is directly related to how popular/ feared/ believed in (yes i am aware of the irony of having his power be tied to popularity considering that no-one besides me and like 2 other people give a shit about him, i think its funny)

I'll flesh the whole popularity=power thing later as per usual

Nick is physically very weak and frail and if it weren't for his magic coughing on him could probably kill him tbh

His bones are just disturbingly frail and I imagine as a bit of a twist on like the question of "how would Santa get in if you didn't have a chimney?" And I was like what if Nicks just broke his own bones to get into places, like horribly twisting and and breaking his body to get to you (Kinda played around with this idea in Kidnapping PSA, but would love to go harder with it in the future)

Nick is also severely underweight for his height of 7ft, and not for his own doing he just can't put on much weight. He hates how skinny and physically weak he is without magic.

His clothes work to make him look much larger and imposing than he is, like how prey a animals stance up to make themselves scarier to predators

He has an abnormally low body temperature, he is physically cold to the touch, he's very temperature sensitive and will pass out if it goes above 60°

You just know his skins dry as hell....

Imperceptibly shivers, very minor and you can't really see it if he's moving around but if he's just sitting down reading you can see it; he really hates it because it makes doing anything with very fine detail very hard

Cannot image Nick many- if any friends

and his ex-husband doesn't count, like he might have business partners but those aren't people you see outside of a meeting or a business dinner. Like the only person who really tolerates him like that is Merasmus.

There divorce was honestly pretty amicable, don't mean Nick doesn't regret it, because i don't think he's gonna find another person who tolerates him like that again

He's probably like super lonely but will never ever emit to that, but like with most things you can tell...

Nick does not shut the fuck up- like at all. He will have nothing to say, but he sure will just keep saying words.

Very much overshares like so often, you could just be taking his order at the register and he will be on about how much he misses his ex for like 30 minutes and you just have to awkwardly cut him off and ask if he wants ketchup or not

Oh speaking of ordering food, Nick totally heckles any poor waiter or cashier that have the misfortune of encountering him. He wants to speak to your manger right now.

He is just so inconceivably petty... The slightest disrespect to him and he's doing some ludicrous shit to you. Scuff his shoes? he's signing you up for the military. Spill your drink on him? He's ruining your credit score.

I image the lay out and construction of his mansion is just strange, a majority of it is under ground to avoid the arctic winds and prevent damage. But the internal lay out is this Winchester like maze, halls that lead to nothing, tall narrow stares into darkness, no windows, empty useless rooms that no-one has entered in over century- maybe even forgotten. I think even he gets lost some times, know one really knows why he just keeps building and adding on, but he keeps just doing it.

Someone smarter than me can probably write up some dissertation/ comparison about how Sarah Winchester kept building out of guilt and fear of the spirits of the people who where killed by her family's weapons.

He can play piano quite well but he just hasn't played in a while...

He has the vibe of that horribly toxic theater kid you knew from high-school who makes that time they got lead role in a play there whole personality

Gets super red in the face for like any reason, angry? red. embarrassed? red. Bashful? red. Drunk? red. its so funny and he probably gets so embarrassed about it

Im going to assume you read through this and the first part so thank you for reading my stupid ramblings, here have this as a reward.

-> Playlist

have some old silly doodles i don't think ive posted here

[artemissaggezza]

To my Darling Tumblrinas. Friends, foes, and frenemies alike,

I reach out to you now to do one of the hardest and most terrifying things I have ever done: ask for help. Doing so has never been easy for me (if I explained all the reasons why I could literally write you a TLDR dissertation 😂).

Right now, my wife (@starlghtstarbrite) and I need it more than we ever have. Life is hard for everyone. It has been hard for us too. But she and I have always found a way through. We have survived so much together.

We managed to leave an abusive situation (albeit with a stab wound, nerve damage, concussions and horrible cases of PTSD). The physical trauma from this has left permanent scars for both me and my wife. Every day since then I have lived in severe, sometimes incapacitating pain. Being 12 years sober (😁) this is really hard to manage. My wife has nerve damage she will never recover from and phantom pain on a daily basis. I don't even know how much debt we're in because of this. Honestly, we are both terrified to check.

Beyond the physical shit, the emotional trauma from this has led to at least $10,000 in mental health treatment. Sometimes it was just therapy. But most of the time it was specialized treatment for Bipolar disorder, PTSD, and atypical anorexia leading me to be away from home and out of work for months at a time.

I started treatment for my eating disorder (for the 5th time) a year ago at this time. While I was in treatment my wife lost her job after the company realized they didn't need to pay someone to do her job when AI could do it for free. Bullshit, right?

If you can believe it, I lost my job in the beginning of December for even shittier reasons. Background: I used to work for the largest academic/licensure examination company in the world. I will probably get in trouble if I say their actual name, so I'll give you a hint. If you have ever needed to get licensed for your job, you'll know them as the intimidating people who watch you while you take exams and do "security checks" that make you feel like you're being arrested. For any students out there, they're probably the publisher of some of your most expensive text books and study guides. It rhymes with "ShmEARSON" 😂.

I literally got fired for accidentally LETTING A TOOTHPICK into the testing room. I was accused of "intentionally defying" my boss's "orders" by not following protocol exactly (this was after my male coworker had been accused of sexual harassment four times and still had a job).

Because of this, my wife and I are facing eviction in three days. And have nowhere to go. My parents are emotionally abusive and my wife's mother still introduces me as her "roommate". We've been living off of black beans and rice for a month because we don't have money for food. Nevermind our meds, that even with insurance (which I no longer have) cost hundreds of dollars a month.

Over the years we have struggled and been dealt a lot of bad hands of poker. But we've always managed to bluff our way out of it. We put our faith in each other and pretend there is a light at the end of the endless tunnel, at the top of the bottomless pit. Every now and then we've even been able to run two damp sticks together and make our own light.

But this time our bluff has been called. We've run out of sticks to rub together. Without help and support we won't be able to light the torch that leads us through the abyss and into hope.

So, here I am. Embracing vulnerability and asking for help. I know times are tough all around. So even knowing that my story has been read and validated is a great comfort to me.

If you're moved by our story, relate to it, or see yourself in it and would like to help out my CashApp is below.

I would also like to offer you the chance to get something in return, if you want. I have a lot of random skills I'm more than willing to offer.

I'm an artist (think Jackson Pollock style), an academic writer (specialization: psychology, criminal justice, sociology, statistical analysis and all the associated citation styles), an editor/proofreader, and a poet. Among a host of other bizarre things lol.

I know this was long AF and I do apologize. Mostly though, if you had the drive, compassion and attention span to get all the way down here I AM DAMN IMPRESSED. And more grateful than you could ever imagine.

Thank you, each and every one of you. For hearing my words and seeing me.

CashApp: $ArtemisSaggezza

[sailoryooons]

Please R and U for the ask game 😊

Hiiii!

I already answered R but I will copy and paste here without re-tagging!

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

Yes - some of my favorite published authors are Fonda Lee, R.F. Kuang, Samantha Shannon, Pierce Brown, and Christopher Paolini. Kuang and Brown have shaped the way I liked to write loyalties and betrayals and the consequences of violence in my fics. Paolini, Shannon and Lee I attribute a ton of my world-building drive to. Some fanfic authors I have recently have been super inspired by are @/gimmethatagustd @/eoieopda and @/vyduan. Jai and I legit brainstorm ideas almost every day - they get so many of my offshoots and problem-solving and they come to me for the same stuff, so I am always inspired by them. I just beta-read something for Jade the other day and it was so fucking well written that I have been thinking about it for days and it was to the point that now I want to write a similar aesthetic/genre because I was so insane about it. Virginia is literally mechanically and narratively one of the best writers I've ever seen here and her ability to like.. inject feeling and wordplay into her fics makes me want to eat her style like Kirby and make it mine.

U: Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

This one is really tough because there are literally so many people that I want to recognize and like write a dissertation on why they are my favorite. I hate to limit to three but off the top of my head, it's probably @ladyartemesia who I read before I started writing and who wrote The Mark of Yun-Ki aka one of my favorite fics in the world and her worldbuilding is just utterly fantastic. @gimmethatagustd I'm gonna go with Jai here again because they write fantasy so well and I think that Jai could do a master glass in character study, they have some of the best characterizations/character motivations that I've ever read. They also very predominantly write fantasy and supernatural adjacent fics, which is my preference. I've said this time and time again but @here2bbtstrash is one of my favorite writers, not only for the style in which they write, but for the content. They write a lot of content that makes me feel very scene and that as a lot of amazing emotional undertones that I find very rewarding to read. M also writes uniquely queer experiences in their fics which I appreciate.

Fanfic Ask Game

[stormyoceans]

Thoughts on talay's character arc? Thoughts on Puen's character arc? Thoughts on the development of their relationship? Thoughts on any part of this wonderful gift of a show??

ANON YOU'RE PLAYING A VERY DANGEROUS GAME HERE I COULD LITERALLY WRITE A WHOLE DISSERTION ABOUT VICE VERSA YOU GOTTA GIVE ME SOME LIMITATION IF WE BOTH WANT TO GET OUT OF THIS WITH OUR SANITY INTACT. it's probably a good thing that it's been a constant 48 hours goat screaming up in my head since the show ended and that im still nowhere near coherent enough to articulate my thoughts properly........

talay's character journey is actually one of my favorite things about the show (and this says quite a lot, considering i adore pretty much everything about it) and i think it's also one of the best i've ever seen depicted in a BL. i do feel like im lacking the right english words to explain myself rn, but there's been something so.. charming and heartening about watching this boy who didn't believe in love, who has always prioritized his dream career to the point he never allowed himself to even consider a romantic relationship, slowly opening up to the possibility of it

the way they handled it was also incredibly refreshing to me, because talay’s choice of putting work before love is never shown in a negative light, it’s simply a part of his character that helps the viewers build a sense of who talay is: someone driven, meticulous, logical…. but talay is also warm and caring and kind. he doesn’t need to change or put his dream aside to love and be loved, he just needs to leave some space for it and let himself feel. if in the end puen is asked to choose between work and love (and in his case that choice feels like a blessing, because he never had an option before), talay’s journey is all about learning that he doesn’t necessarily have to pick one or the other, but that the two can coexist

another thing i really appreciated is that the writers never rushed talay into realizing and accepting his feelings for puen, but they made him experience all these new and different emotions (both good and bad) and then actually gave him have the time to figure out what they meant. it was a slow process, but it felt incredibly natural, and drawing a parallel with the color pink was such a clever way to show the progress in talay's feelings

puen’s character journey is probably less evident, compared to talay’s, but it’s honestly just as good. i feel like we focus a lot on how the alternate universe gave puen the chance to learn about all the different kinds of love and affection he never got to experience in his life (not only romance, but friendship and family too), however i think a big part of his journey is also rediscovering himself and letting himself be puen

it probably sounds a bit of a contradiction, since he spent most of the series going by ‘tun’, but i’ve rewatched some scenes from the first few episodes and it’s really startling how much more contrived puen feels compared to the second half of the show. this isn’t to say he was being fake or insincere, but you can see he used to hide a lot behind the cool actor persona he had to build for himself, and it made me realize that i didn’t fully understand just how true puen’s words are when he tells talay “not many people see this side of me. you’re one of them” and “i’m like this with you only. when i’m with you i don’t act.” being with talay and travelling to the alternate universe helped puen reconnect with who he is, and it’s beautiful to see his real self coming out more and more throughout the episodes and have him realize that maybe being puen is not that bad

i think im gonna stop here because this is already too long and if i start on all the reasons why puentalay is the best couple with the best development ever i will be on my deathbed and still not done with it, but i said it before and im gonna say it again: puen and talay's journey of going from strangers to friends to lovers felt believable and realistic in a way few others ever did, not only in BLs but in other shows too. it was about two very different people who didn't know what love was helping each other grow and choosing each other over and over again. they fell in love, and it felt real

[diluc33rpm]

Do you believe in true love? (2/2)

yeah for example the love between me and this fucking AC rn (it’s raining but it’s 32 degrees i want to fight an eagle with my bare hands)

[dangermousie]

Hello !

I was wondering whether you could rate and tell us of your top 5 favourite webnovels/cnovels of all time ?! (Sorry if this has already been answered lol😅)

Thank you, stay safe and have a nice day🖤

Awww, thank you and that is such a lovely ask!!!

From n1 to n5, here they are (they happen to be all danmei.)

1. The Husky and His White Cat Shizun (2ha) - my n1 forever and ever.

Taxian Jun, the horrific cultivation emperor of the world who razed cities and destroyed sects, is surrounded on his mountain. The righteous sects are terrified to confront him but tired of living, Taxian Jun consumes poison and dies by suicide at the age of 32. And opens his eyes as 16 year old Mo Ran, Mo Ran long before he became Taxian Jun, Mo Ran who is excited at a chance to save the one person he loved and lost. Oh, and to deal with his loathed shizun, the unapproachable and strict Chu Wanning, his past life’s biggest enemy.

I have no idea if it’s objectively the best on this list but it hits every trope I love, its bleak worldview (the world will change only incrementally but that’s enough, average person will not appreciate the sacrifice but it’s still worthwhile, and love is worth everything) mirrors mine, and the sheer complexity of the plot and cascade of plot twists each of which is insane and yet completely logical, is amazing (this is a rare novel where it’s even more fun to reread than read for the first time because you keep seeing all the hints and trail crumbs laid out that you did not see the first time.)

And the characters!!! I mean, this novel has multiple universes/timelines, a side trip to the Underworld AND the demon realm, a plot more twisted than a store’s worth of pretzels and yet the thing that hits me the most are the characters. Mo Ran is my favorite web novel character of all time and I love Chu Wanning so. All the secondary characters are wonderfully written (and some of them made me bawl) and they are all complex. My opinion of all of them changed many times over; the novel doesn’t make it easy to love some of them but then you do and it’s so worthwhile! That slow change is one of the delights of the novel - I started out disliking the unpleasant, superior Chu Wanning and cruel, callow Mo Ran and then I loved them so so hard and cried for them so so hard and was in awe of their heroism and sacrifice and selflessness and capacity to love.

Oh, and the fact that this novel does something almost impossible - it has its protagonist start out as so clearly irredeemable and then slowly and painfully and thoroughly redeems him (without ever letting the reader forget what it is he needs redemption for.)

Also, for a novel that made me cry so hard I felt ill, this book is just so damn funny with the most sarcastic sense of humor imaginable (the serious angst doesn’t even kick in until 90+ chapters!)

Anyway I should stop or I will write a dissertation. But this is the one web novel that I would put in my top 5 not just web novels but any novels in any shape or form. The plentiful trigger warnings are there for a reason so stay away if they are an issue, but if not, if anyone hasn’t read it yet, what are you doing with your life?!

2. Stains of Filth (Yuwu) - another novel by the author of 2ha. Clearly she just pushes all my buttons every time. This one is much shorter and has a plot that is twisty but less twisty than 2ha. Still, all that means is that intensity and the pain are more concentrated.

Aristocratic Mo Xi and former slave Gu Mang were both legendary generals of the empire and lovers. But Gu Mang betrayed the country and switched to the enemy. Now he is back as a peace offering by that country and Mo Xi has to deal with the fact that his feelings are as strong as ever.

This novel!!! So much pain and intensity!!! So many amazing plot twists and supporting characters. The same bleak world view, the same unjust society, the same protagonists doing right things despite the cost. Mo Xi’s intensity and inability to let go (he’s imprinted on Gu Mang and that’s it) is romantic, bone-shakingly intense, and tragic all at once. And oh Gu Mang! So many times I just wanted to reach into the book physically to protect him. The novel deals with unjust societies, memory versus personality, what it’s like to be good in a bad universe etc. And it both made me sob and giggle, repeatedly, and sold me on literally death-defying (but not honor-defying!) love.

Oh, and special shout out to the fact that like 2ha, you may start out hating some characters and end up a rabid fangirl (cough Murong Lian!)

3. Qiang Jin Jiu - a dense political tome that takes a while to get going but then it’s a runaway train.

In a fictional dynasty, Shen Zechuan, the only remaining son of a disgraced aristocratic family and Xiao Chiye, the younger son of a family of generals guarding the border join forces (and then something else) to get power and pull down the dysfunctional system.

This is so elegant and smart (a rare web novel I’d recommend to anyone who just loves solid period fiction) and you probably need a notebook to keep track of the politics and military strategy. These characters are very very smart not just because the author says so.

As to the characters, there is a large cast and I love many of them, but for me the novel is made by Shen Zechuan and Xiao Chiye. SZC is gorgeous and delicate and icy and can kill you before you have time to blink. Saddled with the sins of the family he had no pleasant interaction with, he claws his way out of hell (seeing the sinkhole he was trapped in, literally as well) to take down those who wronged him but also to amass power so all the tragedy and corruption won’t happen again and the whole rotten system comes crashing down. XCY is a military genius who is trapped as a hostage in the capital because the court doesn’t trust his family. He longs to return to the plains of home and to take his rightful place. The two men start out as bitter enemies, then reluctant and sniping allies, then as friends and eventually as one of the most gorgeous, tender, swoony OTPs.

Anyway this is one is a bona fide masterpiece, equal parts smart and emotionally intense.

4. Wu Chang Jie - are you an emotional vampire? I am and this novel is a banquet.

In a highly fantastical setting, we meet our protagonists - the sunny Xie Bian and the intense and surly Fan Wushe. Xie Bian is a human who assists his master in conveying souls to the underworld and making sure no mishaps happen. Bian is concentrated sunshine in human form and to meet him is to love him. When the novel opens, his drunk master brings back another human to be his shidi and assist with duties - said human is uncommunicative, intense and surly Wushe. Bian is excited to have a shidi but little does he know that a story dealing with the horrors of past lifetime is about to start.

Anyway, why WCJ? So many reasons. It has such a dark bleak worldview - this world is a horrifying system where powerful cannibalize each other’s cores for an impossible chance to ascend, where gods have sealed off their realm and all that’s left is neverending human misery and hell (the only way you’d see a deity is if they’d been sent down to suffer over and over and over), where even reincarnation doesn’t fix things and bad acts are often unpunished. And the novel then asks - is it worth being a good person in such a world? More, is it worth being a good person in such a world when nothing good has ever happened to you and you have been repeatedly betrayed due to your goodness? And the answer, on Bian’s part, is an uncompromising yes.

Ah yes, the other reason to love this novel - the protagonists and their fucked up fucked up relationship. Bian (who was Prince Ziheng in the past life) is so genuinely good. But he is that rare thing - good but not saintly, noble but not cloying. So much of the novel is his getting taken apart over and over and barely able to put himself back together every time but his soul is still as amazing as ever.

And then there is Wushe (who was Prince Zixiao in past life, Ziheng’s not-bio-related brother.) Wushe is not a good person. He is a monster. And he loves Bian/Ziheng more than his life and his soul and the entire world but he’s also the one who hurt him more than anyone else ever could and did it over and over. His love survived a literal century of torture in the worst kind of hell and refused the usual memory loss of new life. But it also humiliated and broke Ziheng down to his constituent parts.

One of the things that is so fascinating to me about this novel is the question of what can be forgiven/what should be forgiven/what kind of expiation is enough/can you ever love someone who you loved so much and then he hurt you so badly and is now repentant? And it never sweeps trauma under the rug or hand waves it away but deals with it head on.

If you want healthy relationships, you should stay far away from this novel but if intense insane ones with a feral barely human one capable of destroying the world leashed by love and guilt to the sane deeply good one is your bag, come right in.

There is also the world building and the fact that yes, the big fall out between Ziheng x Zixiao is based on not knowing all the facts but it’s not “why can’t you talk?! This is dumb!” But is totally in keeping with both events and their characters. It’s reasonable for Ziheng to do what he does and for Zixiao to misunderstand and decide Ziheng is now his biggest enemy (but still one he’s fixated on) and for Ziheng to never be able to clarify.

Anyway, once again this is trigger warning central so please heed those, but if they are no issue, this one is wonderful.

5. OK, this is hard and switches between Sha Po Lang, Heaven Official’s Blessing and The Golden Stage depending on my mood. So what the hell, I am gonna write about all of them.

Sha Po Lang - so smart and so much clever world building. There is enough politicking to satisfy a Qiang Jin Jiu fan, it’s steampunk, and our two protagonists - Gu Yun, the empire’s most powerful general, who’s loyal to the empire despite being badly wronged by it, and Chang Geng, a cursed prince with barbarian blood and horrifying childhood - are wonderful separately and together. This is a huge slow burn but it’s totally worth it! They fall in love with each other’s hearts and brains and ability as much as anything. (Yes, this is the one with the yifu thing. Gu Yun is made Chang Geng’s foster father when he rescues him and brings him back to the capital as a way to keep CG safe in imperial strife. They are 12 and 19 at the time so clearly it’s never a parental relationship.)

Heaven Official’s Blessing (TCGF) - I love it’s sprawling narrative and cast, I love its inventive setting and picaresque story. It’s hilarious and can make me cry. But the novel’s place on this list is due to Xie Lian who is part Kenshin part drama WWX part pure goodness wrapped in heartbreak and trauma wrapped in sunshine.

The Golden Stage - two smart and principled (yes, they both have principles different though they may be) men navigate their arranged marriage, their past friendship and their past break up, become a super couple (one of the healthiest danmei couples I’ve ever read and proves healthy doesn’t have to be boring), save the country and bring down the emperor or two and just generally this is my rainy day book.

I guess I didn’t write as much for the three n5 candidates as I did for 1-4 but my brain is beginning to curdle so...

[wickedpact]

dear tumblr user crim wickedpact pls write the essay/dissertation about nicky being shakespeare's fair youth (if you have time, ofc!!)

Not To Imply Nicky Was Shakespeare’s Fair Youth But Ive Read The Fair Youth Sonnets & Nicky Was Definitely Shakespeare’s Fair Youth, an essay by me, tumblr user crim wickedpact

background knowledge: our man shakespeare wrote some 120 sonnets about a young man referred to as the Fair Youth during the mid 1590s; there has been some debate among shakespeare enthusiasts whether shakespeare’s interest in the Fair Youth was platonic or romantic (but like. they were definitely romantic). no one knows for sure who the Fair Youth was, but it was definitely nicky and my first and most important piece of evidence regarding this hypothesis is the ‘lmao babe do you remember that guy who had a crush on me?’/ ‘i try not to remember the guy who had a crush on you’ look joe and nicky exchange when Merrick brings up shakespeare during the movie. especially since gina confirmed in a tweet that joe and nicky canonly did know shakespeare

my second piece of evidence is that it just Works (except for a couple small facts like.. the Fair Youth was prolly closer to his 20s than his 30s. and the fact that shakespeare implies that the Fair Youth slept with his mistress at one point. but he doesnt know what hes talking about shhh we IGNORE)

long post under cut

A. The Description Matches

when describing the Fair Youth (who I’ll call the FY from now on), shakespeare says he has a ‘gold complexion’ and ‘beautiful eyes’ and compares him to a ‘summer’s day’. He says the FY has “A woman’s gentle heart" and “An eye more bright than [women’s are], (...) Gilding the object whereupon [they] gazeth”

As much as shakespeare’s perceptions of sexuality and gender are very........  late 1500′s (whoo boy sonnet #20 is a wild ride) ...... the description does match, and also:

  B. The Fair Youth Refused to Get Married

it’s never really said why one way or another (shakespeare assumes it’s because the FY is selfish) but the FY didn’t/wouldn’t take on a wife and have a kid, and this was something that was a real sticker for our man Willy S. because, as he says in his sonnets a million times: beauty doesn’t last forever, but having a child not only passes down the FY’s beauty, but also blesses the woman the FY would have a child with (im not saying shakespeare wanted to bear the FY’s children, but he definitely did)

Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother. For where is she so fair whose uneared womb Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?

(ie. If you don’t renew yourself/ have children, you deprive the world and deprive a woman from having your child, since what woman out there is so beautiful that she wouldn’t want to bear your child?)

Like.

1.) if nicky is the FY then so many of these poems center around the idea of nicky growing old sometime soon and that must have been pretty funny to Nicky and

2.)  the fact that shakespeare would have been So Desperate for nicky to find a wife must have been the opposite of funny to joe. considering the ease of his and nicky’s relationship and the fact that being gay in late 1500s england was probably not a walk in the park, it is very likely shakespeare wouldn’t have known they were in a committed relationship-- or at least not known how close they actually were. Thus:

  C. The Rival (aka. Joe)

shakespeare mentions having a poetic rival in regards to the FY in several sonnets. In sonnet #21 he talks about how he’s not like Those Other Writers who use grand metaphors to talk about their muses

So is it not with me as with that Muse, Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven itself for ornament doth use And every fair with his fair doth rehearse, Making a couplement of proud compare With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems, With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare,

(ie. I’m not like other poets who, when inspired by a ‘painted beauty’ use heaven and every other beautiful thing on the planet to make a grand comparison to their muse: he specifically lists the sun and moon as examples as well as other beautiful things)

He then goes on to say

And then believe me, my love is as fair As any mother's child, though not so bright As those gold candles fixed in heaven's air:

(ie. my love [the FY] is as beautiful as any other beautiful person, though I wouldn’t compare them to the stars/heavens (which is what he means by the 'gold candles’. those are stars.))

So shakespeare insults poets who compare their subjects to the sun, moon, and stars (amongst other things) and in the comics, Joe does literally exactly that

That man is the stars in my sky, and the sun that lights my days. That man is the moon when I'm lost in darkness, and warmth when I shiver in cold.

shakespeare also goes on to say in the same sonnet “Let them say more that like of hearsay well / I will not praise that purpose not to sell” which is to say ‘let people who like that kind of language use it, I wont because I don’t want anyone else to have the subject of my affections (the FY)’.

(which is a bit of a contradiction regarding his feelings abt the FY getting married, but these sonnets are full of contradictions. shakespeare was a confused dude; man spent the first 100 or so sonnets convinced the FY loved him back only for him to start wondering if the FY ever loved him near the end)

(not to mention Marriage For Love wasnt really.. much of a thing in Ye Olden Times but thats a different conversation. so shakespeare prolly didnt associate marriage with love/competition? anyways)

Shakesy-boo goes on to complain about this rival several times. In #79, he says

Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent He robs thee of, and pays it thee again. He lends thee virtue, and he stole that word From thy behaviour; beauty doth he give, And found it in thy cheek: he can afford No praise to thee, but what in thee doth live.

(ie. everything ‘your poet’ (as the FY apparently favored this unnamed rival) says about you, he takes it from you in the first place. he talks about your virtue, but learned the word from watching your behavior. he calls you beautiful but only discovered beauty by looking at your face. every compliment he gives you he took from you in the first place)

[and, as a smaller example, he also bemoans the fact that people want to paint the FY in #67, saying, “Why should false painting imitate his cheek, / And steal dead seeming of his living hue?”. and yknow. Joe’s an artist.]

And then another example in #86

Was it the proud full sail of [the rival’s] great verse, Bound for the prize of all too precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?

Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?

(ie. he’s talking about how he’s having difficulty writing abt the FY and is rhetorically asking if ‘the proud sail’ of the rival’s verses was the reason his ‘ripe thoughts’ were killed in their ‘womb’. He then asks (again rhetorically) if it was the rival’s ‘spirit’ (or creativity, maybe) ‘’’‘by spirits taught to write’’’’ that killed his own drive to write. none of the analyses I’ve read really explain what shakespeare means by ‘spirits taught to write’, other than maybe being a joke or reference to something we dont know, but... ‘taught by dead people to write in a way mortal people can’t’ very much sounds like a description of an immortal poet, eh?)

Which brings me to,

  D. Willy Boy Thinks There Are 500 Year Old Writings About the Fair Youth

shakespeare talks about people having written about the FY ‘500 years ago’ from the late 1500s in #59 which......................... would have been around 1100 AD. :thinking face:

Oh that record could with a backward look, Even of five hundred courses of the sun, Show me your image in some antique book, Since mind at first in character was done, That I might see what the old world could say To this composed wonder of your frame;

(ie. Oh if I could look back 500 years and see how you were described in some old books so I could see/reference what people used to write about you)

Which again brings me to,

  E. I’m Not Saying shakespeare Stole From Joe, But:

1.) In #22, shakespeare says this,

For all that beauty that doth cover thee, Is but the seemly raiment of my heart, Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me: 

(ie, your beauty is due to the ‘clothes’ my heart gives you-- probably means something like ‘you’re beautiful because i love you’. goes on to say his heart lives in the FY’s chest, and the FY’s heart lives in shakespeare’s chest)

so: shakespeare tells the FY he has shakespeare’s heart. in comparison, Joe calls nicky ‘my heart’ in the comics...... :thinking face x2:

2.) In #109, shakespeare tells the FY ‘thou art my all’,

For nothing this wide universe I call, Save thou, my rose, in it thou art my all.

which rings similar to Joe’s ‘he’s all and he’s more’ as well as (from the comics) ‘he is my everything’

and just saying. joe looks pretty #done the mention of shakespeare.

  F. The last One

Despite shakespeare writing 30+ poems about the FY eventually growing old, the very last poem he writes about/for the FY says,

O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle hour; Who hast by waning grown, and therein showest Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self growest. 

(ie. you [the FY] have power over the ‘mirror’ (fickle glass) of time as well as time’s ‘harvesting’ ability (sickle hour) and as you grow older, you remain beautiful while your lovers [shakespeare] wither and grow old)

The transition from ‘get married and have a baby before you get old!!!!’ in #1-20 to talking about the FY’s presence in 500 y/o books in #59 to admitting the FY isn’t growing old in #126 kinda seems to imply shakespeare learning of/about nicky’s immortality at some point, and this last poem is him accepting it.

TLDR: not only does it make perfect sense if nicky was the Fair Youth from the FY sonnets, but it also makes perfect sense if joe was the Rival from the FY sonnets. its canon nothing will convince me otherwise

[sortasirius]

what makes you think the writers want deancas? not trying to be an asshole, i'm just genuinely curious as to why you think that. i know berens' episodes are pretty heavy with subtext so i can see why you'd say that he wants it, but i'm not so sure about the rest of the writers/dabb. it seems like meghan isn't a huge fan either, given her "they twisted it so fast" tweet :/ of course she's a very new writer (think she's only writing one ep this season?) but still

OKAY this is a great question, welcome to my dissertation.

I’m going to address the end of your question first. Meghan is actually DeanCas positive, she has been for quite a long time. She actually, a few years back, posted a picture of her reading a literal book about Destiel and captioned it “writing reading” or something like that.

This whole thing just comes out of a boiling over of tensions because of how nasty fandom twitter can be. Like I said here, I think this has just gotten blown out of proportion, they shouldn’t have posted all this randomly disparaging stuff, but also like...can you blame them? The fandom is a lot, we always have been, and they’re probably also under a gag order not to talk about the finale, and are annoyed that people keep asking.

So nah, Meg is not anti Destiel.

To the first part!! So let’s take a look at the show runners since Cas has been around.

Seasons 4 and 5: Kripke

Seasons 6 and 7: Gamble

Seasons 8-11ish: Carver

Seasons 11ish-15: Dabb

So starting with Kripke. Okay, yes, I will be the first to admit that we have some pretty incredible Destiel moments in these seasons, but it’s less directly written into the plot and much more from Misha and Jensen’s uhhhh ~chemistry~. The only times it was directly written into the script was when the episode was handled by someone like Edlund (“On The Head Of A Pin,” “The End,” “My Bloody Valentine”). And you have to remember, if in season 5, there are moments here and there where you’re like huh that’s suspiciously romantic dialogue, remember that Cas took Anna’s place. Anna was supposed to be endgame for Dean, but due to a myriad of issues and Misha’s general greatness, Anna was replaced with Cas.

Onto 6 and 7. Hmmm. Gamble. 6 and 7 are my two least favorite seasons and that’s no secret, and that’s not only due to the plain old weird shit in the overall storyline, but also that homegirl killed off Cas in s7 and then Bobby like four episodes later. (Also it ALWAYS rubbed me the wrong way they couldn’t have Baby in that season lol). We still had some great DeanCas moments, but again, it wasn’t really written into the overall arc (until they had to change the end of season 7 because of tanking ratings and bring Misha back lol, anyone remember the fact that Dean kept Cas’ jacket and would randomly dream of him? Yeah.). But we still had those moments, those distinctly romantic moments, probably the best example in these two seasons is from Edlund again, specifically “The Man Who Would be King,” I wrote a little about that here.

We move onto Carver, who gave us, at this point, the most overt DeanCas season with season 8 (season gr8 is a better name imo), and this is the first time Dean and Cas’ relationship is directly written as an arc of the season.  I mean, you have everything in Purgatory, Dean “seeing” Cas everywhere, the fact that he felt so guilty that Cas stayed in Purgatory that he manipulated his own memories to think that he was the one that failed Cas, because he couldn’t comprehend that Cas would want to leave him, and let’s not forget Dean snapping Cas out of Naomi’s hold on him in “Goodbye Stranger.”  It was a very obvious shift, not enough to alert the general audience, but more than enough for most of us in fandom.

It’s also important to note that this is when Andrew stopped co writing with Loflin and started writing his own episodes (”Hunter Heroici” anyone?)  I like Loflin fine, but Dabb was able to stretch his legs a little bit more once he stopped co-writing, and we also began to see some DeanCas themes in his solo episodes.

In any case, them and their issues being a big part of the seasons continued with Carver, and Berens entered the scene, his first episode (”Heaven Can’t Wait”) is one of my favorites, with human Cas and the fanfiction gap and Dean and Cas just generally being awkward and funny and sweet.  This is Bobo’s FIRST episode, remember that.  He comes right out of the gate with it.

Also in Season 9, this is when Dean takes the Mark of Cain, and the Cas/Colette mirror is born, so obviously, Dean and Cas are the fabric of the season once again.  This is also the season where Metatron says Cas is “in love with humanity,” and then immediately refers to Dean as Humanity so uhhhh yeah.

Onto season 10, Dabb and Berens continue with their greatness (I could write pages on the DeanCas date in “The Things We Left Behind” alone).  And then we have one of the best scenes in the entire show in “The Prisoner” where the Cas/Colette mirror continues and Dean, driven by grief and pain and rage and the Mark, still doesn’t kill Cas.  He still can’t kill Cas.

Season 11 is important because it takes choice away from both Cas and Dean, and shows us, as the audience, how much losing each other takes out of them. We saw in season 10 how much losing Dean takes from Cas, but what about Cas losing Dean?  Dean loses his choice with his connection to Amara this season, and loses even more when Lucifer reveals he’s been possessing Cas, and plays on Dean’s connection to Cas like a mockery.  It’s also worth noting that, similarly to season 8, Dean breaks out of the connection with Amara when he’s worried about Cas, and that’s something that even SHE is surprised by.

But then season 12, the beginning to the Renaissance.  This is when we get the writer’s that become important for what Dean and Cas are today, and, truly, why I believe they want canon Destiel as much as we do.

This is the first season with Dabb’s writers: Davy Perez, Meredith Glynn, Steve Yockey, and of course Bobo all come in with their incredible talents and gave us episode after episode of good content.  “Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets” is probably my favorite, probably the best example of what I’m saying.  An episode where Dean is called out by an enemy directly, told to “roll the dice” on Cas’ life.  And Dean won’t, it’s not even really a hesitation.  And this comes from a character that has known Dean for ten seconds.  I also wrote more in depth about this episode here.  There are also some.....distinctly domestic details we get this season, specifically in “The Future” (written by Berens and Glynn) with the mixtape.  The most tropey of tropes mixtape.  Yeah, I’ll just leave that one here.

And then season 12 ends with Cas’ death, but also with the parallel between Sam and Dean with Jess and Cas.  Sam literally has to drag Dean away from Cas, just like Dean had to drag Sam out of his burning apartment in the pilot.  The episode drives it home in every way that it can: Dean is the one left kneeling by Cas’ body, while Sam goes to find out what is upstairs.  Dean is the one who stares at the sky, finally broken.  This isn’t a random thing, this is Dean’s whole arc, it’s the entirety of the beginning of 13.  Dean’s pain, his anguish, his anger.

Season 13 starts with them burning Cas, with Dean, who has begged God to bring him back, who has split his knuckles punching a door, standing, staring at Cas’ pyre with brokenness on his face.

I mean.....

Anyway, season 13 is where it gets interesting (well, I think all of this is interesting but I’m a writer nerd so).  So Cas comes back from the Empty in “Advanced Thanatology” written by Steve Yockey, and then a wombo combo of “Tombstone” by Davy Perez next (”Brokebacknatural” as the PR said at the time).  Listen.  This is the part that SPN crossed a line that they couldn’t come back from.  With Cas being Dean’s “big win,” the fact that Dean and Cas watch movies together, “I told you, he’s an angry sleeper.  Like a bear.” Talked about it here.

This is where, in my opinion, the network stepped in, but the damage was already done.  They had already established that Cas was Dean’s big win, that Dean’s poor coping was not due to Mary’s disappearance, but solely due to Cas, and that Dean and Cas have more married energy than anyone else.  The network had nixed blatant canon at this point, and they writing room had been pushing the boundaries of what the network would allow. 

After these episodes, we see a marked drop off of DeanCas heavy scenes.  They’re still there, still a part of the fabric of the season, but not as...obvious as it had been in early season 13.

And this continued through season 14, we’re back to scraps of Destiel scenes here and there, but to me it always felt like there was something bubbling under the surface, something distinctly unsaid in the themes of the season, even after the walk back of obvious “Dean and Cas are in love” scenes.

And then we get to season 15, which, y’all know I talk about all the time.  What’s important here is that Bobo and Glynn are both executive producers, calling more of the shots than ever before.  Additionally, it’s important to note that, though they only co write occasionally, Glynn and Berens refer to each other as “work husband” and “work wife.”  Each episode has just turned up the volume, and, not for the first time, but certainly the most obvious, Dean and Cas ARE the season.  Sure, they’re trying to beat God, they’re trying to finally find peace, defeat the final big bad, but really?  This season has been about Dean, and Dean’s relationship to Cas.

And not only do we have obvious and clear Destiel in nearly every episode, but we have episodes like “Last Call” which canonize bi!Dean (wrote about that here).

And, maybe most importantly so far, we have “The Rupture,” the breakup, and “The Trap,” Dean’s confession (both written by Berens).  And here’s the thing.  These episodes feel connected, but also feel like they’re missing something.  Beren’s last episode is 15x18, “The Truth.”  We’ve all spec’ed about what could happen in this episode, and I think *I* know what it’s leading to.  But for it to be leading to that, it means that the network has to have approved what we’ve all been waiting for years for.

Who got this change to happen?  Who got the network to change their minds?  It wasn’t us.  It was them.  I am fully convinced that Dabb and Berens quite literally put their careers on the line for Dean and Cas.  They believe in them, they’ve shown that from the beginning, but the only thing standing in the way was the network, never allowing them to take the final step. 

So, to answer your question: I think the writers want canon DeanCas because they’ve already shown us that they do.  Take a look at their episodes, at Dabb’s, at Beren’s, at Glynn’s, at Perez’s, at Yockey’s.  They’ve been telling us what’s going on with Dean and Cas for years.

Sure, I’m not in their heads, I guess I don’t know for *sure* that this has been their thought process, but if we put it all together, from the marked shift when Dabb fully took over in s12, to the change right after “Tombstone,” to the new shift, the blatantly romantic shift in season 15, what else is there?

I’ve said for a long time that we, the SPN fandom, are beyond lucky to have the writer’s that we do.  They’re all going to go on to have prolific careers and we were lucky to get them at the end of our little show.  I give them a lot of credit for what we have in the show today.

Just remember, they’ve been telling us in all of s15 who Chuck is.  He says he’s the writer, right?  But a writer who doesn’t have control of his characters?  A writer who wants to do the same ending over and over because it “works”?  That doesn’t sound like a writer, it sounds like a network exec.

They’ve been showing us what they want for years, and the way s15 is going?  I think they may have convinced the network to let us have it.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Colour Prompt :)

#22 - purple: bruise, pain, mystery

For Scott & John (& Gordon?)

A Little Ruthlessness

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Gordon, John, Scott

First thing I've written in a good week and a half, and the longest thing I've written in... a while (thank you, rl, for hitting me hard enough to wreck my muses when I was planning on celebrating finishing my dissertation by writing lots). Also highly self-indulgent because why not.

So we have some Scott&Gordon&John, which is a highly entertaining combination and I loved writing this. I think I actually hit all three of those prompts with this...

Colour Symbol Prompts

“He’s late,” Gordon huffed, fog erupting from his mouth as he rubbed his arms to stave off the winter chill. “What’s taking him so long?”

Leaning against a nearby wall nonchalantly, bundled up in so many layers Gordon had laughed when he’d first seen him and poking at his tablet, John shrugged. If Gordon didn’t know his brother as well as he did, he’d think the ginger wasn’t worried at all.

There was an urgency to the way he was poking at the screen, though. John didn’t do big, flashy, displays of emotion, but when you knew what to look for, the deliberate placement of each digit as he manipulated whatever was on the screen screamed unease, and even a little bit of frustration.

Their brother was supposed to have met up with them an hour ago, as soon as he escaped the social gathering he’d been coerced into by what Gordon could only assume was an old flame from high school. For all that Scott was naturally charismatic and popular, it was an open secret in their family that he hadn’t managed to keep any of his old high school friendships. Teenagers were fickle things, and he’d been too busy raising four younger brothers to fill the social quota they’d expected of him at the time, let alone after they lost Dad as well.

Still, the high school reunion had called, and for some reason, Scott had answered.

He wasn’t supposed to stay there so long, though. Gordon and John had both determined that there was a high chance Scott would be leaving the reunion reminded of all the reasons why he hadn’t been able to keep those friendships and decided to make their own arrangements for the evening. Nothing outlandish – not when John was involved – but a trio of brothers hanging out without the stress of their otherwise busy lives hanging over them.

Not the usual trio of brothers that might be expected to hang out, but as much as Virgil would always jump to help Scott, where they had planned really wasn’t for their softer brother – and Alan was underage anyway.

Beating casinos at their own money-laundering game required just a touch of ruthlessness, and that was very much John’s area of expertise. Gordon found it fun, and Scott always enjoyed taking selfish rich snobs a peg or several. It also required enough strategic thinking and brainpower to cut off any unwelcome dwelling their big brother might otherwise land himself in.

That meant nothing if Scott wasn’t even showing up in the first place.

“Have you called him?” Gordon shot over at John, who was still poking away deliberately at his tablet.

“No answer,” the ginger replied, breath fogging in front of his own face. He didn’t even seem to notice – then again, all those ridiculous layers were probably doing their job to keep him warm. Gordon’s had failed him about half an hour ago. In his defence, he hadn’t exactly planned to be hanging around in the cold this long. “He’s not read any messages, either.”

If they’d gone to all this trouble to plan a pick-me-up for Scott after an expected downer of an evening, their big brother had better not have managed to find some entertainment and forgotten to let them know.

But that wasn’t like Scott at all – even if he had initially forgotten, a call or message from John would have reminded him instantly.

Gordon shivered again. Something didn’t seem right.

“So now what?” he asked instead, not because he didn’t have any ideas – crashing the reunion was an obvious one that sprung to mind – but because John was probably already enacting a plan or several of his own already.

“His phone’s location transmitter’s off,” John said by way of answer. “Actually, his phone seems to be dead in general.” The same phone John and Scott had both checked was fully charged on the way here so he didn’t lose contact with them?

Gordon’s eyes narrowed.

“So what have you got?” There was no way John hadn’t got something by now.

“His watch isn’t transmitting, either,” his brother reported. “But…” He trailed off, staring intently at something Gordon couldn’t see on the screen.

The temptation was there to prod him – verbally or literally – but unlike when John was a mere hologram that may or may not be transmitting, this time Gordon could see that he was mid-thought, still working, still doing something to figure out why their big brother had gone dark, and held back.

It didn’t take John long to finish whatever he was doing.

“I’ve got a location.” The astronaut kicked off from the wall he was leaning against and started striding forwards, long legs uncaring that Gordon’s were much shorter. It took a second or two to jog to catch up.

“What have you got?” he repeated.

A map of the area flashed up above the tablet; orange and yellow highlighted their own position, moving quickly down the street, while a flickering blue icon blinked in and out of existence unsteadily down a side alley four blocks away.

“You said it wasn’t transmitting?”

“It’s not,” John said shortly. “I triangulated all the signals within the appropriate parameters until I picked up traces of its electronic residue.”

Residue didn’t sound promising. Gordon resumed his jog, knowing that John was fully capable of keeping up with him, and mentally mapped out the shortest route to the weakly flickering blue dot. It was staying in the exact same location, not even a slight waver in position, and that, Gordon really didn’t like.

Scott wasn’t one for staying still.

Unconsciously, his pace hastened further. By the time the alley loomed ahead, visible in person and not just lines on a hologram, he was all but sprinting. John was a little way behind him, but that was fine.

Gordon’s instincts screamed for him to keep going, to charge straight into the alley and find out what was going on, but he reined them in, forcing his legs to slow to a walk, and then a stop at the entrance to the alley.

They had no idea what they were walking into, and despite all the signs pointing to not, Gordon really didn’t want to interrupt if Scott had simply found entertainment and forgotten about them. More realistically, he also didn’t want to charge into a hostile situation unaware.

There were no sounds coming from the alley. Nothing to tell him what was going on, but also enough to tell him what wasn’t. With one glance back to see how far behind John was – not far, only seconds out – Gordon slipped around the corner.

Alleys were always somehow gloomier than the surrounding streets. Lighting never seemed to work quite so well; John could no doubt explain it, but an explanation wasn’t important right then.

What was important was that, in the resultant gloom, something was slumped over on the ground. Something that Gordon approached carefully, glancing around to make sure nothing else was laying in wait with a nasty surprise.

Nothing appeared, even as he took the last few steps, and his rigid restraint snapped.

“Scott!” His knee protested as it hit the street sharply but that was insignificant in the face of the ragdoll impersonation his eldest brother was doing spectacularly well. “Hey, Scott?”

His cold fingers found his brother’s throat, pressing up against the pulse point. Scott’s skin was almost as cold as his own, but the steady thrum of his heartbeat beat reassuringly against his fingertips.

Hurried footsteps behind him announced John’s arrival.

“Give me some light,” Gordon ordered, not looking up at him. A blink later and a pale, holographic blue washed over the pair of them. Tablets didn’t have the best torches in the world, but it did the job.

Scott’s eyes were closed, although the lack of response had already implied their brother was out cold. One had a spectacular ring of colour around it, matching the blotches that covered every visible section of skin. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth in a way that had Gordon fearfully inspecting his lip in the hopes that it was just a cut.

The light quivered a little as John knelt down on Scott’s other side.

“His watch is smashed,” the ginger reported. It made sense, considering how difficult it had been to track, but their watches were IR standard. They didn’t smash easily. “Broken wrist, too. How’s his head?”

“Bruised, like the rest of him,” Gordon replied. “Looks like he cut his lip on his tooth, and he’s going to have a fantastic shiner.” He gingerly felt around. “Splitting headache, too. His head’s not bleeding but it’s taken a hard knock.”

“Try and get a response while I deal with his wrist,” John ordered. The tablet light moved away from Scott’s face, leaving it shadowed by alley-gloom, but Gordon could still see well enough to lightly tap a less-colourful portion of his cheek.

“Hey, Scott,” he coaxed. “This isn’t a great place for a nap, you know, bro.” Rustling indicated that John was deploying something medical. Gordon wasn’t even surprised he had something on him, although it was probably brought along just in case gravity got the better of him, and not because he was expecting to patch up their brother when they’d left home earlier. “C’mon, Scotty.”

The faint groan he got was music to his ears.

“That’s right,” he encouraged. “Really not a good place to nap.”

In the gloom, he couldn’t make out the exact moment familiar blue eyes edged open, but he heard the second, louder, groan, followed almost immediately by a sharp inhale that could only be pain.

“G’don?”

“Right here,” he confirmed, resting his hands lightly on Scott’s shoulders in case his idiot of a brother thought attempting to sit up was a good idea. “John’s here, too.”

He got a pain-smothered grunt in response. Muscles twitched under his palms, and then he was predictably forced to keep Scott still.

“Nope,” he chirped. “No moving for you just yet. How’s his wrist, John?”

“Strapped up,” the ginger answered. “How aware is he?”

“’nuff,” Scott rasped weakly before Gordon could reply. “W’ah-ow.”

“Hospital or home?” Gordon looked away from Scott to glance at where John was once again poking at his tablet, somewhat awkwardly as he was also holding Scott’s arm still with one hand.

“’ome,” Scott interjected.

“We’re closer to Thunderbird One than the hospital,” John agreed. “Once we reach her we can run a scan.”

And if the scan showed up something they couldn’t handle at home, Thunderbird One could get Scott to a hospital faster than an ambulance. Gordon nodded.

“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed, looking back down at Scott. “I’ll need a hand picking him up.”

“Ic’n-”

“Nope.” He overrode Scott’s protest. “I doubt you can even see straight right now. You’re not walking.”

The wordless noise he got in response told him he was right, and that Scott didn’t want to admit it.

John’s tablet vanished somewhere in amongst the multitude of layers he was wearing as the ginger left Scott’s wrist to kneel opposite Gordon instead. “How do you want to do this?”

Gordon considered his options, quickly realising that the one that would hurt Scott the least was also the one his brother would hate the most. With no idea what damage he’d taken to the ribs, putting any substantial pressure on his abdomen could spell disaster.

He drew Scott’s unbroken wrist up, to renewed protest, and looped it around the back of his own neck. “It’s not far,” he said. “Bridal’s safest.” Not the easiest, but Gordon was always up for a challenge.

“No,” Scott huffed, but John nodded, like he’d come to the same conclusion. He probably had.

Between them it took no time at all to get Scott loosely in position, broken wrist cradled limply on his stomach as Gordon and John slipped their arms beneath him and prepared to shift.

“Whenever you’re ready,” John said, and Gordon’s mouth twisted into a wry grin.

“On three. One, two, three.”

Scott wasn’t light by any means, but despite his protests he didn’t resist as between the two of them they got him into the air, suspended between them for a moment before John carefully shifted his grip until the battered body of their big brother slipped neatly into Gordon’s arms.

His shoulders protested at the weight, but Gordon ignored them in favour of immediately starting to move. He wasn’t Virgil; he couldn’t carry Scott around as though he weighed nothing, and there was a definite, short, time limit before his muscles gave out.

Scott gave a pained huff, the air brushing past Gordon’s jaw. “Ic’n walk,” he muttered again. Gordon appreciated that he wasn’t trying to prove it, because if Scott actually tried, he’d almost certainly end up dropping him and probably injure them both in the process. At least Scott was mentally aware enough to recognise that.

“Not until we know how badly injured you are,” John told him firmly. “One’s not far from here.” Gordon let him lead the way, trusting him to pick out the shortest route to where the Thunderbird was secured. They left the gloom of the alley for the better-lit streets, and Gordon almost wished they hadn’t. The bruising had been bad enough in the half-light conjured by the tablet; under the powerful street lighting, Scott looked even worse.

When Gordon found out who did this to his brother, they were going to regret it.

Blue eyes, one barely able to open, were regarding him worriedly, as though Gordon was the one that needed fretting over. The hand slung over his shoulder squeezed shakily when something made him stumble, and Gordon grinned down at him thinly once he regained his footing.

“Nearly there,” he promised, both his brother and his protesting muscles. In front of him, John had reproduced his tablet from the volume of clothing he was wearing and was tapping away even as he led Gordon around another corner.

Thunderbird One glittered in the darkness of the park, tucked away mostly out of sight. The stealth coating Scott rarely bothered to use since the Zero-X had done its job at preventing gawkers gathering around, although now John had turned it off it was only a matter of time before late night crowds gathered.

Gordon stumbled again as he approached, muscles burning, and Scott let out an almost silent hiss. A hum of a hover stretcher murmured its way into earshot, guided by John, and Gordon gratefully let it take Scott’s weight, slipping his screaming arms out from underneath him and ducking away from the arm slung around his shoulder.

True to form, Scott immediately started to sit up, but John was there with a gentle but firm touch. In his other hand, the medscanner flickered yellow.

Rubbing at his protesting shoulders, Gordon was reluctantly relieved to hand over responsibility to his older brother as John somehow managed to keep Scott laying down long enough to get the stretcher inside Thunderbird One. Gordon followed, just in time to hear John sigh.

“-broken foot, so no, you couldn’t walk, Scott.”

“So,” he interrupted before Scott found a reason why that wouldn’t stop him. “What’s the verdict, Johnny?”

“Don’t call me that,” John snapped back automatically. “Nothing’s flagging up as beyond our facilities, but I’ve sent the results to Grandma for final verdict.”

Grandma, Virgil, and their arsenal of medical equipment could handle a lot, so that by itself wasn’t completely reassuring, but it went a little way towards it.

“Do we know what happened?” he asked, rather than dwell on that for long. “Scott?”

“N’dea,” his brother mumbled. “D’n r’mber ‘thing ‘fter th’arty.” He sounded put-out enough for it to be the truth.

Gordon caught John’s eye and the ginger’s lips thinned. They’d find out who did it, one way or another. No-one messed with their family and got away with it, no matter how much that contradicted with International Rescue’s philosophies.

Sometimes, a little ruthlessness was necessary.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 127

Annnnd a-one, and a-two, and a queue-queue-queue!

This chapter has one of my favorite things in the world to write - Interpersonal relationships (if you are surprised, I’m going to assume you are new here....).

Specifically, one of my biggest pet-peeves is when friends or siblings are written in a way that shows that the author doesn’t actually have any friends or siblings they are close enough to that all rules of societal politeness go whizzing into some far-off dimension as soon as they are in proximity.

When I get to write a chapter with such close friends/ersatz-siblings and also have @baelpenrose cackling and egging me on, it literally makes my whole day.

P.S: If anyone has wondered about the ages of the characters, several are clearly lined out in this chapter......

EDIT: Fixed some insane formatting issues.

“The food festival, Sophia? Really?” an incredulous voice asked before the door to my office even opened all the way.

I resisted the urge to scream, but did surrender to pinching the bridge of my nose and breathing slowly. “Hello, Arthur. Do come in. Long time no see.  Of course I’m not busy…” My one day each week to have a few hours to myself - no mentees, no assistant, even Tyche was off work….

“We saw each other last night when I came over for dinner after sparring with Conor, and  you’re never busy on Saturdays, Alistair makes sure of it.” He dragged a chair in front of my desk for what I felt was the sole purpose of putting his boots on my desk instead of the conference table.

“I thought you two didn’t even like each other, how did you - “

He waved a hand dismissively. “Enemy of my best friend’s enemy is my friend, that sort of thing. Anyway - “

“Did you just call me my own worst - “

“You are, let’s not pretend otherwise. Anyway.” Arthur arched an eyebrow at me and waited for any further objections, but I couldn’t think of any. “The Food Festival. It’s my one favorite tradition on this ship until armed combat becomes a spectator sport, and you are putting Parvati and Hannah in charge of it?”

After a beat pause to make sure he was done, I glared at him. “Everyone has asked me that, and I don’t understand the issue.  They’ve both helped in the past, even before they started training to replace me.  I’ve handed more and more off to them each time, and they did great! Plus, they have three months, it will be fi - Wait, why do you even care, Arthur?”

He held up one finger with the authority of a deity who would have smited me if he could. “One, Parvati Fletcher does not like mapo tofu. You do. Specifically, you like it from that one vendor who grows her own Sichuan peppercorns and uses them like they are an infinite resource. Two, I spend entirely too much time working with Zach Khan, and he won’t shut up about how stressed Hannah is. Three - “ I was seriously starting to get concerned he actually could smite me at this point - “As much as I love you in the most platonic way possible, you are an obsessive, compulsive perfectionist who insists on doing everything herself and running herself into the ground so that everyone else has the time of their lives. So why are you trusting this, the largest and oldest event on the Ark, entirely to other people?” Dropping his boots from the desk, he leaned forward, palms down until we were nearly nose to nose.

“Sophia Reid, I swear on any god I can kill if you are dying…”

“WHAT!?” I squawked, jerking back and standing so fast I knocked my chair over. “For the love of little fish, I’m not dying! I haven’t had a near death experience in four years, thank you.”

“Three, not counting the fact that there is a reason Alistair makes you drink anything through a straw anymore.”

“How did - Nevermind.” I shook my head and tried to focus on the topic at hand. “No, I’m not dying. Nor am I injured, having a midlife crisis, rethinking my life choices any more than I ever do, or so much as in possession of a stuffy nose.” Taking a deep breath, I rolled my eyes and started counting off before I could stop myself. “Conor and Maverick and I are fine. No, I’m not arguing with Tyche again. Yes, I’m still going to therapy. Else is fine. No new sentient plagues or rogue cult leaders that I’m aware of. Nor have I become immortal, queen of the universe, savior of humanity, pregnant by Noah, or possessed.” Carefully, I picked my chair back up and sat down.

“Good...to… know?” He gave me a funny look. “Who asked the most disturbing one?”

“Immortal or Savior of Humanity?” I asked for clarification. “Those were Maverick and Derek, respectively.”

The look only got worse. “I meant ‘pregnant by Noah’, but fascinating to see where your priorities lie….?”

“Oh. That was Charly.”

“Dammit,” he swore softly. “I had her pegged for ‘possessed’.”

“I’m pretty sure she is, but the suggestion that I am came from Tyche, on no fewer than 3 occasions, by 4 different entities. She seemed pretty hopeful that Else was potentially mind-controlling me in an effort to make me take a nap,” I admitted.

“That tracks.” A nod of approval prefaced the question I had been avoiding - successfully, thus far, I might add. “Now that you’ve ruled out every possible plausible reason that you would entrust this to literally anyone other than a clone of yourself, why?”

“Why what?” My face was composed in an expression of innocence so convincing that I probably deserved an Oscar.

“I can and will convince Charly to turn all your coffee to decaf, so help me, Sophia.”

Realizing that he was, legitimately, worried about me and at the limits of his usually-impressive patience, I held up my hands in surrender. “Fine. You get the scoop.  Please record this and send me the loop, so I can just flick it at people who ask, please?” When he nodded, I exhaled slowly.  “It is no secret to anyone that I never wanted this job. I made the mistake of establishing the Food Festival, which as you point out is the largest event of the cycle on the Ark - the last three years, literally everyone attended in some capacity.” When he opened his mouth to argue, I held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t get me wrong. I love the Festival. What basically started out as a potluck because we were homesick and needed to meet - you know, the rest of humanity - is a huge, three day holiday.  It’s amazing!” I spun in my chair, arms flung wide for emphasis, before stopping to face him. 

“It also consumes my life, for months, to prepare for.  And that’s just implementing changes to make it more accessible so people don’t miss out! That doesn’t include adding things to make it more interesting or keep it from getting boring, or whatever. I literally don’t have time to do any of that!”

“So, you’re inflicting this on them instead?”

“Inflicting?” I snorted.  “Hardly. This is their final exam, their capstone project, their dissertation.  If they pull this off, I will gladly hand the entire office over to whoever is elected, cheerfully and knowing the Ark is in good hands.  But, they have to pull this off.  It’s the only major part of being Councilor of Resources and Relations that they haven’t done yet by themselves.”

He rubbed his face, looking somewhat impressed. “That’s honestly not what I was expecting.”

“I don’t think it ever is, honestly.” I shrugged at the question he glanced towards me. “For Evan, it was coordinating the weapons exhibitions.  Charly managed to pre-empt her own by designing more efficient aqueducts and filtration for when we reach Von - you know, the ones that also produce light?”

“Of course she would invent glow-in-the-dark plumbing. Who else?” Something caught up with him. “Evania Josue got away with planning an event? Seriously?”

“Oh, that’s right… you weren’t on Level One…” I murmured. When he only looked more confused, I clarified. “She was Maverick’s co-pilot when we needed people to pilot the Ark, which was not designed to pilot manually, via dead reckoning, using cameras pointed out the few viewports we have, for several weeks after the sensors were sabotaged.”

“She was whose co-pilot?”

“You really never heard this story? You practically live with seven people who were there…”

“Usually I get the bits about ‘Sophia nearly got her brains bashed out’ and ‘that traitorous bitch’, then start tuning out while I try to decide what it would take to get Charly to teach me necromancy… If Evan was the co-pilot, then why is Maverick….”

“Not in line to replace any Councilors? Arthur, we know that would be a disaster for him.”

He nodded reluctantly. “Your younger partner is a nice boy.”

“For fuck’s sake, he’s thirty seven!” I groaned.

“Nice man, whatever,” he waved off. “Which is exactly what I would like for you as a partner. You need nice partners, and blunt siblings. But I see what you mean about him being a Councilor… he’d be miserable.”

“What was yours?” I asked mischievously, dropping my chin onto my hands.

That earned me a flat stare, until he finally surrendered when I didn’t flinch. “The Twentieth/Early Twenty First History curriculum.”

“Seriously?” That had literally been the first thing he had done when Eino tapped him as a possible successor.

“I didn’t budge on points even he admitted he would have, out of fear of offending people.”

“Which is a fear you very much lack,” I pointed out.

“The truth is the truth. Coating it in sugar only makes it taste worse.” He shrugged nonchalantly before suddenly looking dangerously like he was thinking again. “There’s two of them.”

“Yes, Arthur. Hanna and Paravati are, in fact, two distinct and separate women-type-lady-people.”

“Thank you, Fee, I was well aware.” I suppressed a growl at the nickname - he knew I hated it. “I meant, only one can win the election, smartass.”

“Better to be a smartass than a dumbass,” I muttered.

“Sophia, you are forty five. Please grow up just a hair?”

“Tyche doesn’t want to be HR forever, you know.”

That brought his mind to a visibly screeching halt. “Wait, what?”

“What what?” I asked. “She does it because she is phenomenal at it, but it isn’t her passion.  She only stuck around as long as she did to make sure I didn’t trip over a chair and brain myself while I was at work.  When I’m gone, she’s gone, loser take the spoils.”

He whistled softly before shaking his head. “It’s bizarre to think of you two retiring around the same time I’m just starting the position.”

“I’ll have been a Councilor for a decade when I step down,” I pointed out.  I almost included unless I die first, but that never seemed to be as funny as I thought it was.

“But you aren’t that much older than me,” he sighed dramatically. “Anti-aging technology is frustrating.”

“Annnnd this is a natural extension of your career, with a ten year break thereabouts the middle.”  My grin was so bright it made him scowl before I finally got a begrudging smile.  “Think of it as getting elected head of the school board.”

The groan he let out probably echoed for several levels throughout the ship. I had basically just pointed out that he was becoming that which he most hated.

Or not. He seemed to recover with a gleam in his eye. “Pfft. Dean of Students, at the very least.”

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[bitter-sweet-coffee]

Henlo! I'm curious what your fave Sonic character(s) is ^^ and do you have any headcanons for them?

oh boy! okay i'm going to do my best to answer this but i have been in this fandom forever and could write a dissertation on just like,,, one character. so instead i'll sparknote some cute things about my top 4 and if you want to hear a more elaborate response i can do separate posts for each of them! it was hard enough to pick a couple characters since i love them all 😊

1) espio the chameleon

i love this little purple man so much oh my god. for starters, i'd like to think he isn't as serious as a lot of people make him out to be. yeah he seems chill but let's be real, he's arrogant and i love every second of it! he definitely radiates hot topic vibes but we're talking ronnie radke, hollywood undead vibes. definitely an e-boy but not in the fake alt way, he just radiates soft-grunge vibes? he's bisexual with a male lean and definitely dated mighty at some point, but i personally ship him with wave (more on that in a second!) his best friend is silver (i ship them too tbh) but his friends are rouge and shadow for the most part. he's the character closest to shadow (personality wise, not emotional proximity) and i adore their interactions in shadow's game so i sorta ship them too...? ahhh this is supposed to be about headcanons! anyways, i think he's fun to be around and has a thing for people with good stories to tell: wave about the past, silver about the future, and rouge/shadow with the present as agents. i think the cooperation between the chaotix detective agency and GUN is something people should write more often! oh, and he likes green tea boba ✨

2) wave the swallow

god, she made me realize i like girls and i still absolutely adore her. it was taken down but at one point years ago, her birthday was listed as november 11th which makes her a scorpio, and as a fellow scorpio i stand by it! she's also definitely bi but with a female lean, and her best friend/occasional partner is rouge. they remind me of maddy and cassie from euphoria, but wave isn't as bitter as maddy ofc. i feel like people forget that storm and jet are pretty damn incompetent without her, she literally does everything for them and that's a big nod to her people pleasing. yeah she's arrogant, but she's not wrong in being self absorbed because she keeps things running! she radiates hayley kiyoko, p!nk, 100gecs, and paramore vibes. she's a baddie but a softie! i think her and espio would be amazing together (even platonically) because he loves learning and debates, and she has a lot to say and needs someone to respond, as opposed to zoning out. i feel like she could be a famous rollerskater on tiktok or something, and would have her own line of custom gear! she might be cold and competitive, but she's really sweet and just has no way of expressing it... poor girl. i think her and sonic could be amazing friends, and i'd love to see more art of them being pals and going on adventures together!

3. shadow the hedgehog

hehehehehe oh boy, as the current love interest of my fixation character, shadow is getting more attention than usual these days! i always liked him but my fave boy and girl were espio and wave for the longest time, so finally getting to fixate on shadow is great for me! shadow is neurodivergent, basically in canon. his memory issues are both trauma related and just a part of his programming. something that i admire about espio and shadow being friends is that the former loves authority and doesn't need it, but the latter despises it but needs it. shadow was created to obey, and so even if GUN wrongs him a thousand times, he needs them. it's why he keeps going back to eggman, and helps sonic when asked. shadow might not admit it, but he has a saviour complex! although i agree that with modern music he'd listen to like mcr and pierce the veil etc, i think he'd also resonate with sex pistols and other music from the decades he missed while in stasis (footloose is probably one of his fave movies just because of the killer soundtrack!) he loves flowers and does his best to take care of plants, has nervous tics, and the reason his quills turn upwards is because of all the chaos energy he has! super sonic's quills turn up when transformed, and shadow is constantly tapped into that energy: even with inhibitors it's a lot to manage. shadow also loves reading, and i think his favourite book would be The Wars by Timothy Findley (amazing read, please check it out because it reminds me so much of Shadow oh my god)

4. INFINITE!!!

okay i have to keep this one short but he is currently my favourite character, and i could talk about him forever. i know SEGA claims his real name is Infinite, but i headcanon that in the village he came from he wasn't given a name because he was considered a burden and a curse (due to his heterochromia and other reasons). for me he was called araperi or ara (nothing/no in Georgian) because they only referred to him via negative reinforcement. the scar on his eye is because either he or another jackal tried to claw it out when he was little because it made him an outcast and he wanted to belong. he only started school when he was in highschool and never really learned how to read english (i base a lot of his village lore around Georgia and my experiences with Georgian culture- even though my culture was erased when i got adopted lol). he only learned english through musical theatre, and is fluent but not very literate in english (can't read or write very well). he radiates younger sibling vibes so i headcanon that he has 4 older sisters who all treated him pretty bad on varying levels. after a year or two of highschool he ran away with some friends and after meeting more nomads, squad jackal was eventually formed! infinite (or finn as i sometimes call him) was definitely into theatre (his favourite musical being sweeney todd) and he's an AMAZING singer, acting too (which is sorta canon because he adopted shadow's personality and fighting style after their first encounter and rehearsed a whole monologue lmao). his singing voice sounds like clem turner's but with a bit more rasp, probably because i feel like he'd listen to bring me the horizon and kim dracula! infinite is actually a big puppy once he likes you, he's just secretly awkward and insecure as hell (maybe the last part isn't a secret, haha)

wow, this was longer than expected and i feel like i hardly said anything, but this is sorta where i'm at with these four! i could talk about them forever though, so feel free to ask follow ups or request a full post for them, any ships i mentioned (or didn't) or if you want a post about anyone else!

[welllpthisishappening]

Catching the Highlights

It wasn’t like she was nervous, not really. Or jealous, even. Honestly, the entire story was more than a little hysterical and very nearly distracted Belle from the obviously frustrated way Will kept moving his hands at the end of the second period. Still, there was something about sitting in the stands that felt different and maybe hearing about how her maybe-boyfriend made out with Anna Vankald one time was just the push she needed. To make things a bit more real.

———

Word Count: Nearly 4.5K AN: This is a thing I do now, apparently. Write Blue Line! Will and Belle. And poorly photoshop eights into sixes on jerseys. Although I draw the line at making the girl that same photo wear a skirt. Anyway, this continues to be real fun, I hope the five people enjoying it continue to enjoy it and I think I’ve got at least one more idea for these dweebs. So, that’ll probably happen sooner rather than later. Possibly with more badly executed photoshops.

———

It had something to do with his eyes. 

With the way they narrowed ever so slightly, able to thin without causing any sort of furrow between his brow or lines of frustration on his forehead. They’d pinch. His eyes, that was. Make it so it was difficult for Belle to see the brown there or the bits of gold that she was at least ninety-six percent positive she wasn’t imagining and only slightly less confident had something to do with her. 

She’d never really been one for details, like that. 

Strange as it might have been. 

Details were the lifeblood of research. Tiny bits of information that could sway a doctoral defense or prove an argument, but Belle had always been far more interested in the sweeping potential of a very good story, and research had that too, she supposed. To some degree, at least. Although, that was getting existential. Her work was good. She was good. Fine, even. Definitely fine. Nothing to see here. Nothing to worry about. No reason to compare the strange and not entirely unfamiliar sensation of fluttering in the pit of her stomach whenever Will glanced her way to the decidedly still nature of all her internal organs while she spent eight to ten hours uptown five days a week. 

Sitting at her desk, she regularly tried to fit into the mold, everything everyone expected her to be with the title she had, and that required her to think less about the bigger picture. That sounded negative. It wasn’t. Probably. Hopefully. Just required further research. More details and specific examples.

All of them regarding the nature of Will’s eyes.

Even so, she—

Part of her missed it. The sweep. The really good stories. Ones that were less clinical and more fantastical. And the deep breath that always came just seconds before being overwhelmed. By the current and the wave and those were rather similar, as far as analogies went, but all the best stories always left her a little overwhelmed, and Belle’s cheeks were starting to ache as something bubbled out of her. Laughter, in its purest form. Bouncing and bounding and echoing off otherwise abandoned walls, the pair of them tucked into a corner of the Garden concourse because they hadn’t actually decided this was a secret, but Anna Vankald was apparently living her life under some sort of blood oath, all sworn secrecy, and poorly executed winks in the second period.

Like this was hidden. A tiny detail tucked away. Never debated. Never highlighted in the opening paragraphs of a twenty-six-page dissertation. With Chicago-style formatting. 

No one ever knew how to property do Chicago-style formatting. 

Belle might have hated Chicago-style formatting. 

She’d never been to Chicago.

Had never been—

Will’s eyes were barely slits on his face. 

Twisted lips loomed above her, not quite frustration, but inching closer the longer she kept laughing, and she refused to linger on what that meant. The laughing. The happiness. Joy, maybe. She looked up, instead. Let her head bump the wall her shoulders already had, appreciating the soft scrape of what might have been concrete against her hair, like that would ground her or slow her overactive imagination, and his hair was still wet. 

“She wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” Belle bit the side of her tongue. Didn’t help, really. With her laughter problem. “Keeping state secrets?” “It happened once.” “Yes, she mentioned that, too.” He might have growled. Some strange part of her wanted him to, relished whatever the technical term was for the sound that eked out between his bared teeth, rolling his whole head in the process. Their noses nearly collided. 

Belle pushed up on her toes. 

To kiss the tip of Will’s nose. 

“That’s distracting,” he grumbled, but his hand had inched under the hem of her shirt, and that meant he’d managed to get the hem of her shirt out of the skirt she was wearing. 

“Should I have worn your jersey or something?”

His eyes snapped. Open. Brown and gold, and that wasn’t a particularly swoon-like combination in any of the stories Belle had memorized while she was growing up. Heroes with royal titles and broadswords quite literally made to challenge dragons and hordes of villains always came with blonde hair and a slight curl, flashing blue eyes that twinkled in sunlight and starlight, and Belle’s hand didn’t shake. When she brushed the few drops of water clinging to Will’s temple away. 

Her calves were starting to ache, too. Made sense. She was still pushed up on her toes. 

And the Rangers had lost. Not—well, not badly. By two goals, and one of those was an empty-net goal, which was a term Belle figured out all on her own. Well before Anna mumbled explanations under her breath, glaring daggers any time the Islanders fan two rows in front of them dared to open his mouth. 

Honestly, that was part of the problem. He kept yelling, and Anna looked dangerously close to staging some sort of public execution in section 204 and Belle had asked. For details. Wanted a good story, or possibly a distraction because she’d noticed the way Will’s hands moved at the end of the second period, staging a rather enthusiastic conversation with a man she’d never met, but his jersey said LOCKSLEY, and she didn’t think the jersey would lie to her. 

She was going to blame the Islanders fan. 

“If you did that,” Will mumbled, in response to a question she’d legitimately almost forgotten about, “I’m not sure I would have been able to get out on the ice.” “Oh, compliment or—” “Definite compliment. Was that not obvious?” “Well, you’re making out with so many other girls.”

Her laugh clung to the letters, pulling her lips behind her teeth to keep from smiling like a total idiot. Something was happening. With the flutters and the overall ability of her nasal passages to get oxygen back to her lungs, and it must have been a trick of the light. The way Will’s eyes flashed, gaze flicking up beneath eyelashes and just above the half curve of his mouth, and Belle’s knees felt a little unsteady beneath her. Fighting against the force of a wholly imaginary, even more staggering wave. 

“One time,” he said, straining on every letter, “it happened one time, and—seriously, why was she talking about this with you?” “Asked for a fun and interesting story about her.” Will’s eyes bugged, another shift in his voice that was much more like a crack as he nearly shouted, “And that’s what she came up with?”

“Said anything she had to tell me about her childhood was boring. Mostly because a lot of it would focus on KJ, because—”

“That’s Cap.” Belle clicked her tongue. “Wow, thank you for that. What would I do without you?” “If you wore my jersey, I think my head would explode.” “Not the compliment you think it is, either. That’d be a lot of blood. Who would even clean that up? Couldn’t make someone here do it; that’d be mean. Cruel and unusual, probably.” “I like your skirt.” “Better,” Belle laughed, in spite of her best efforts. Which were really lackluster, quite frankly. “Anyway, the childhood was apparently super boring, and there were shenanigans of rookie season to discuss.”

“She grew up in a mansion!” “Yeah, we got to that part eventually, although technically, I think it was just a brownstone.” “Rich kid description.” “You can tell her that if you want, I’m sure,” Belle reasoned, but his lips were back to twisted, and she was already on her toes. Made sense to use that to her advantage. Pressing kisses against the edges of his mouth, alternating back and forth until it felt a little like a rhythm she could time the rest of her vaguely unsteady breathing to, and she certainly did try. Didn’t work, but something about effort and attempts and those were—

Details, really. 

“I like her,” Belle added lightly, mouth moving across a stubble-covered cheek. Part of her felt ridiculous. Always did with things like this. She wasn’t the story. Will wasn’t the hero. He and his teammate had gotten into a fight at the end of the second period, for God’s sake. And this wasn’t—well, it wasn’t a fairy tale. No matter how much sweeping there might have been. With its butterfly wings and salt-filled waves, all of which existed solely in Belle’s subconscious. 

But there was this other part. 

Part of her that didn’t always linger behind her desk. Flitted through imaginary scenarios and stories stored in the back corner of her brain, the same one that could still smell salt air with startling clarity, and remembered the precise taste of freshly-made taffy from that one restaurant on the beach. Details. She remembered those details. Held them fast, afraid they’d disappear otherwise, and made sure they played prominent roles in every daydream. 

For fear of what would happen if she didn’t. 

How they’d fade. Grow grey and thin, and it was a contradiction. Right in the middle of her. And that scared her just a little bit, because whatever was happening now, right at that moment, with a hand flat on the curve of her hip and her heart doing its abject best to beat its way out of her chest, she felt the same exact way. Sweeping and detailed and not the least bit jealous. 

There was no need to be, really. Not when she was fairly certain she could drown in the golden flecks of Will’s eyes. Constantly staring at her as they were apt to do. 

“Do you want to hear the gist of the story?”

Will’s lips pursed. Stayed that way even as Belle’s lips continued their path across his face, spending at least two seconds at the side of his left eye and the still slightly damp area surrounding his right temple. She started picking up speed. Quick kisses that she could only hope felt as strongly as the prickle of her lips suggested. But then Will’s fingers tightened. Not much. Just enough to be obvious, and Belle grinned against his cheek. 

“I lived it,” Will argued, but there wasn’t much fight in it. He’d done that already, anyway. They’d get to that part, eventually. 

“As the story goes, though, there was some less than savory libations involved, and—” “I’m still not convinced that vodka was legal in the continental United States.” “Suggests it’d be fair game in Hawaii and Alaska, though. Possibly Puerto Rico. I’m not sure what the rules on that are. Maybe the US Virgin Islands. What about Guam? You think your alcohol would be fair game in Guam?” “I’d have to check the label.” “You still have it?” Belle balked, almost fully and entirely prepared for the flash of amusement and the precise angle of eyebrow jump. Almost being the key word, there. Another burst of laughter tumbled out of her, lips on her cheeks that time, all blazing and prickling, and that one wasn’t inherently positive, but she was slightly worried her hair was going to get caught in the concrete of the wall and she could not possibly be expected to think when Will’s hand kept doing whatever it was it was doing. 

“No, no, we did a very good job of drinking that entire thing, but I’d know that bottle anywhere.” “Where were you buying illegal alcohol? Also, how did you not die drinking hundred-proof vodka?” “Pure force of will.”

“And bad hockey games.” “Those too,” Will admitted grudgingly. An edge crept into his voice. Likely born in the second period of this game. She kissed the bridge of his nose. The tip. Between his eyebrows. Waiting for some of the tension to leave his shoulder blades, and that was all she got. Some. It was enough, for now. 

“You want to talk about that?” “Losing a playoff game my rookie season? That happened a bunch of times, babe, this was just—” “Don’t be an idiot,” Belle interrupted. 

He grinned. Tension kept pulling taut between his shoulders and the slope of his cheekbones, the second of which was really starting to offend Belle on an almost fundamental level, but his smile looked legitimate, and that was enough. 

“Should I go defend your honor in the locker room, darling?” The grin widened. “Trying to get a rise out of me, but gender is a social construct, so I don’t think it affects nicknames, and I’m a real big fan of that one, actually.” “No rise,” Belle promised, fingers hovering above his shoulders, and they both flinched when he winced. “Going to be honest, the hitting sort of freaked me out.” “Locksley wasn’t going to hit me.” “Well, yeah, then I’d have to punch him in the locker room.” “Keep your thumb inside your fist,” Will suggested, “that way you won’t break it.” “Right, right, naturally,” Belle mumbled, and she didn’t know how they managed it. Stayed upright while his hand shifted further up the back of her shirt and her teeth grazed the curve of his jaw. She was on something of a mission, now. To cover every inch of his face. With her lips. “Anyway, as Anna told this wholly fascinating story, there was a lot of vodka involved, a very bad loss, some card game—” “—Kings.” “That’s a drinking game.” “Well, now you’re getting into unnecessary specifics.” Her body shook. Against Will’s. Who almost immediately groaned. Presumably at the location and exact angle of her hips. “Ok, so there were cards involved in your drinking game. Pizza was eaten, alcohol was downed in alarmingly large gulps.” “Editorializing a bit, mon bonheur.”

“What’s that one?” “Happiness.” “Oh, that one’s nice.” Will huffed. “They’re all super nice; I have a very large crush on you; I don’t want to talk about making out with Anna Vanklad anymore.”

He said it quickly, rushing over the words. Some might even say sweepingly. Where Belle was the some. In that instance, specifically. Someone, more like. She didn’t care. Was not spending even a second on proper sentence structure or appropriate internal grammar, was far too preoccupied with the circumference of Will’s eyes. And that one muscle in his jaw. Jumping with startling regularity, really. Totally different from her heart and her pulse and it was difficult to catch her breath. 

Felt a bit like she’d played a hockey game. 

A walking contradiction. 

Where she also wasn’t walking anywhere. At all. Had absolutely no intention of walking away. From this.

“Was it not a good make-out?” “I honestly don’t remember a lot of it,” Will sighed, another roll of his neck. Something cracked. “That’s not game-related,” he added, and she could only imagine it had to do with the look on her face, “anyway, it was just...there was that vodka involved, and Vankald spent a ton of time at our apartment. She wasn’t Cap’s sister-in-law yet, but they’d grown up together, was my friend, and he’d fallen asleep, so…” “Figured you just make out?” “Not a lot of thought involved in it. She was a fixture, y’know? Shit, that sounds shitty. Does that sound super shitty?

“Drifting toward shitty, yeah.”

“Anna came to visit a lot because no matter what she may claim, she worries about Cap as much as anyone. Even El and Leader, and that’s—” “Wait, you have an Alien Leader you all report to?” “You’re ruining this story.” Her laugh got caught. Directly between them, all mouths and that goddamn hand, Belle’s neck tilting back on what might have been instinct and need, and she’d gasped more in the last four hours than she had in her entire life. “Tell me more about your Alien Leader, please.” “He only acts like an alien.” “Huh, that cleared up absolutely nothing.” “You should keep kissing me.” “Compare and contrast, huh?” Will groaned. Again. Part two. Let his mouth drag down the side of her throat, and Belle couldn’t stop laughing. Happiness poured out of her, new and a little strange in its quantity. As if she was made of the stuff, even worried as she was through all three periods. She’d kept wringing her fingers together. At one point, Anna had to hold her hand. 

“Ruining,” another kiss, “this,” teeth on her collar bone, “baby girl.”

Suggesting that she lit up in a way that reminded her of a Christmas tree was—

Farcical, maybe. 

Nothing inhuman happened. There were no bells. No whistles. No flashing neon lights suggesting this was the moment and a conversation regarding the man with his hand currently inching towards her right boob drunkenly making out with someone who wasn’t Belle should not have been so—

Fun. 

God, it was fun. She was having fun. With him and because of him. Hockey nonsense aside. 

Because, since coming to New York with her invisible tail tucked between her legs and the near-desperate desire to get away from that seaside town with its ghosts and its demands and its plan for a future that simply did not fit her anymore, Belle had tried. Really. To shed that persona. To be someone new. Hard as she tried, though, there were ties. Those lingering memories. Ones that dug in their heels, while she gripped others with both hands. She was, and she wasn’t. Small town and big town, a librarian who couldn’t care less about details while focusing on  specifics with everything in her. 

And none of it ever really made much sense. 

Hurt her head to think about, everything she tried to contain and the worry that ate away at her sometimes. That she’d messed up, ruined all of it and—

She didn’t kiss Will’s mouth. 

Peppered his face, instead. With her lips and the feelings behind them, mapping the space until she was certain she knew it as well as her own, and she wanted to. Wanted to learn everything about this guy who felt as jagged as she did, made up of right and wrong and mistakes and possibility and she knew it was only a matter of time before he got impatient. 

She liked that about him. 

That he didn’t always wait for her to catch up. Just knew that she would. 

Plus, his tongue in her mouth was really something Belle was starting to appreciate. In an obsessive sort of way. 

She might have groaned that time. 

Fingers scrambled against the front of his shirt — team-branded, again, and that shouldn’t have been charming, but it was and likely would continue to be, and there were goosebumps on her skin. They were really very good at kissing. Each other, specifically. 

“I like you, too,” Belle said, and it was a strange thing not to be embarrassed by the breathless nature of her voice. 

Will’s chest was practically heaving, though. So that put them on even ground. Common ground, at least. 

“You’re not mad?” “Give me some credit, sweetheart.” He chuckled, warm air against the top of her shoulder. “Was a very long time ago, for whatever that might be worth.” “Twelve galleons.” “I don’t know the conversion rate of that.” “No one does, so I think we’re all in the same boat.” “You don’t think Jo knows the conversion rate of her own fictional monetary system?” Belle shook her head. “I absolutely do not, because she was a shit world-builder and also a fairly terrible person now, so—” She shrugged. Will beamed. Some joke about a Christmas tree.

“So,” he echoed, “the thought of making out with Little Vankald has never once again crossed my mind.”

Someone scoffed. With entirely false indignation.

Using Will’s shoulder as leverage — the non-bruised one, naturally — Belle got enough height beneath her toes to see Anna cross her arms. And scowl at the pair of them. Badly. The scowl lasted all of five seconds before it evolved into its own rather uproarious laughter, another echo that filled the empty space of a concourse Belle could not imagine they were supposed to be standing on. Only a matter of time until someone else found them. 

She wasn’t sure that was a bad thing, actually. 

“That’s super rude, Scarlet,” Anna hissed, muffled footsteps that only lost their volume because of the overall status of Belle’s heart. Still trying to fly out of her. “But I want it noted, for the record and all that, that I don’t want to make out with you ever again, either.”

“Do you remember it being way wetter than it should have been?” “You problem, absolutely.” “I haven’t had that issue,” Belle argued, mostly to guarantee the quirk of Will’s lips. Worked like a charm. Or something less lame sounding. In her head. Most of this commentary was in her head. 

“Lucky you,” Anna drawled. 

“C’mon,” Will whined, “no one told you to start with this story.” “Start with, huh?” His eyes. Were becoming a serious problem and a growing majority in the basis for most of Belle’s heart-related issues, but she forced herself to meet his gaze and tilt her chin up and she didn’t think she imagined the way his tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek. In an appraising sort of way. 

“I really would have told you. Eventually” “I know.” “I’m serious.” “I know,” Belle repeated, “and I’m really not threatened by someone who you still regularly refer to as Little Vankald.” Anna flipped him off. Or them, maybe. As a collective unit. Belle wanted them to be a collective unit. “I could order a jersey online, right?” “Nah, I know people, don’t waste your money.” “Could probably get Kris to help,” Anna added, “as the physical form of my apology.” Belle waved her off. “It was a good story. Highs, lows, drama, does your—do we call him your brother-in-law? He’s not the Alien Leader, right?” “You mean Liam?” Will’s laugh was more like a barely-contained snort of humor and shoulders that were tight for a reason that did not involve pessimistic emotions. Belle’s lips twitched. “Just knew that off the top of your head, did you?” she asked. 

“If you knew Liam, you’d understand. Was Scarlet suggesting we’re all aliens?” “Nah, just him.” “I did no such thing,” Will objected, another glance in Anna’s direction, “Cap looking for us?” She nodded. “Locksley too. Should I be worried Mom and Dad are getting a divorce?” “You’re the most dramatic person alive.” “Lots of hand moving between the two of you, your girlfriend was worried.”

It was Belle’s turn to tense. With what, she wasn’t entirely sure. Some sort of emotion, she assumed. Adrenaline, maybe. Hope, possibly. And it wasn’t like she was waiting for labels, but she’d come to pretty good terms with her ability to counter herself in the midst of her own silent monologue, and Will was staring again. Straight through her, it seemed. 

Or maybe directly into her. 

That was sentimental, though. 

“Does Killian know that you two made out once?” Anna hissed. “If you tell KJ about this, I will actually have to strangle you, no matter how much I like you and how much Scarlet wants to date you.” “Aren’t we dating already?” Anna opened her mouth, what Belle knew would be more sarcasm and the teasing nature of her and Will’s relationship, but she had more pressing issues, and he answered, anyway. “Yeah, we totally are, plus I like you way more than I hate Ariel’s inevitable victory lap, so I mean, that’s—” Cutting him off was rude. Not nice. Inevitable. 

Based solely on the size of his eyes and their gold-like nature. 

“I, uh—” Belle started, “I know we’re not supposed to accept the set-up, and Ariel’s going to be so annoying, but maybe we could…” She shrugged. Tried to stay focused. And upright. Continued standing seemed important in a moment like this. “We’re both kinda messed up, don’t you think?” “Little,” Will murmured. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, and I know that we’re...I mean, this is good, and I’m mostly good with it, but also, I was super nervous during the game, and what were you guys fighting about?” “Fighting is a strong word. More like discussing how Locksley should learn to keep his stick on the ice so he can get that tip from my slap.” “Weird turn of phrase.” “Slap shot.” “No time for full terminology, huh?” “How goes the understanding icing battle?” She was going to sprain her cheeks. Maybe Ariel could help with that. After gloating. Ariel was absolutely going to gloat. “Getting there,” Belle promised, and it was not about hockey, “don’t you think?” “Mmhm.” “So, uh—I don’t know what you do after games, but…” “Little Vankald is totally here to drag us uptown because Cap regularly challenges her in the dramatics, and I bet he’s hungry.” “You eat after games?” “Ariel’s husband owns that restaurant.” “Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s how I met her actually. Good onion rings. Weird we didn’t ever see each other there at the same time, though.” Will hummed. Stuck out his lower lip. Challenged her without saying anything, and Anna was still standing there, and security had to be aware of them, but Belle was in the middle of something, and it was good and great and made absolutely no sense because she was not a pro sports girlfriend, but the labels really weren’t important, and it was all—

She gasped. For, like, the four-thousandth time that night. 

Saved the best for last, though. 

Will’s mouth found hers in a crashing sort of way that altered the cosmos, or at least Belle’s perception of the world around her. Particularly when her hands were suddenly more like barnacles, gripping his shirt as if she was afraid he’d disappear otherwise. Knuckles cracked and breath caught, everything spinning and staying frustratingly still, and one of her heels popped out of her shoe. Pressing back up on her toes didn’t do her calves any favors, but she wasn’t bruised and they were both a disaster, and the tongue thing really was pretty fantastic. 

Tracing the inside of her mouth and the seam of her lips, Will’s rumble of pleasure echoed between her ribs, enough to spur Belle’s arm up as she slung it around his neck. Her fingers found skin and short hair, nails scratching so she could hear that sound again. 

She closed her eyes. 

Let the details seep in, and settle into her soul. 

Until Anna coughed, and there was a security guard standing next to her, and Will’s head dropped to Belle’s collar bone again. He kissed there, too. Before spinning on his sandals, all confidence, and bravado, a reasonable excuse that someone, somewhere, would probably believe. Not this security guard, but that probably wasn’t important, and Belle had helped Will make an Instagram account. 

So, something about a cat and a bag and—

His fingers laced through hers. 

“Wanna challenge Locksley to a fight for my honor?” She scrunched her nose. Pretended to grimace when his lips pressed against her cheek. Anna gagged. “Yeah,” Belle said, “that’s exactly what I want to do.”