Poe’s heard it for years. It’s a joke he hears in the barracks, in the war rooms; it’s the first joke they tell the new recruits: Don’t worry, buddy, stormtroopers can’t shoot. Stormtroopers couldn’t hit the Death Star if they were in its orbit. Stormtroopers couldn’t hit a rancour in a closet. We’ll come back safe and sound, his friends say as a farewell, we’ll be fine: You know that stormtroopers can’t shoot.
Stormtroopers can’t shoot, they say, but Poe knows it’s not true, because he’s standing here with Finn’s hand on his arm and Finn is looking at him with such goodness in his eyes and saying he’s here to rescue him, Poe Dameron, and Poe knows in that instant that everything everyone’s ever said about stormtroopers is wrong, all wrong, because here is Finn, wearing his goodness shining all over him like shining armour, and it hits Poe right in the heart.
They say stormtroopers can’t shoot, but here is Finn in the copilot’s seat of their TIE, his back pressed against Poe’s, and they are working in tandem like they’ve done this for years, like they’ve trained together and fought together and sweated together, felt each other’s fear and tasted glory together, like they have been fighting on the same side all along. Here is Finn, aiming to kill, taking a shot at the institution that told him he was nothing but a number and a pair of arms meant for holding guns. He’s a good shot, someone you’d want by your side in a furball. Someone you’d want by your side, through thick and thin.
They say stormtroopers can’t shoot, but here is Finn, fighting for what he believes in, rushing to save the ones he loves, and when he sees Finn, ready to race after his friend no matter where it will take him, it is then that Poe knows he wants it for himself: Finn’s devotion, his loyalty, his love. This is it. This is all he wants. He wants Finn fighting for him.
Here is Finn, doing what he believes to be right, and Poe’s always had a type, anyone could tell you; he has fallen in love with stories of knights and warriors, the ones who fight for justice and peace, and here is Poe, still reeling from Finn’s dark eyes and careful hands, and he never had a chance, he’s a standing target, and Finn’s aim is true.
Here is Finn, smiling right at him, and It hits Poe right in the heart.
It’s instant, it’s fatal, and they say stormtroopers can’t shoot.
what i want from the finn/poe, finn/rey and finn/rey/poe side of star wars fandom
less weirdly sugary fluff pieces
more working with the fact that its poe is a mouthy risk taker who will throw himself into danger
that finn is quick and clever and willing to do hard things for the right thing, even when it terrifies him
that rey has eaten a dude. i mean, ok no, but she’s so fucking scrappy and vicious and kind. She’s a lot of things all the time.
I don’t know I just want more variety in the stories told about them
and that, as @sharpestrose said, all three of these people would steal a car with the littlest of provocations. don’t just slot them into ‘innocent fluffy bunnies with sad backstories’
all three of them are scrappy as hell, and its delightful
They pretty much do all steal cars in the course of the film. Finn steals two.
Like they had good cause and all but still.
Finn breaks, as far as he has been taught all his life, a terrorist out of military prison. They steal the fastest car they can find and blow up as much shit as they can on their way out. They total the car immediately. He starts several fights in a local marketplace, meets a girl in those fights and they immediately steal her bosses antique car. They meet a con man while he is stealing what he claims is his antique car from them. They sick killer monsters on his justifiably angry customers and hitch a ride with him. He knows someone who can hook them up with another stolen car. Things don’t quite work out when Finn turns down a job offer and they are only saved from Finns old boss by the old dude’s old lady who seems to be running a chop shop come revolutionary army. Finns first friend is a hoon in his shiny black muscle car. They blow up pretty much everywhere they go after that.
Rebellion, resistance, violent revolution, baby! Bring it on!
I love all of this, but also let me beam with pride and love and say that I am
guys someone talk to me about poe dameron - best pilot in the resistance, top dog, guns-blazing male protagonist - and how he was so kind. how he took an ex storm trooper at face value and with unconditional, immediate trust and even a fierce kind of joy- yeah, you go buddy! fight the darkness. i’m here to help you. i’m here to work with you. i’m not here to take control- we won’t get out of this unless we work together.
how he didn’t treat him with suspicion or macho posturing despite the fact that he’s a top tier pilot and has probably been at war with people like FN 2187 for years. how the first thing he does once they’re out of immediate danger is give him a name, treating him like a person worthy of respect and not like another faceless white mask. how he is patient with a panicking Finn even under the incredible stress of a life or death situation, ensuring he knows what to do and being endlessly positive and encouraging instead of berating him when he falls short.
how he gets out of his jet at the end of the big firefight and sees BB8 and his whole face just lights up. how he unselfconsciously runs to BB8 like a kid, automatically lowering himself to BB8′s level.
how he doesn’t need to be the spotlight, the center of attention. when they gather around the hologram to strategize, star pilot and battle veteran poe dameron shuts up and listens.
how he never has a Trek-reboot Jim Kirk-style playboy sequence, no endless string of girls. not even a hint, and you know they could have stuck it in there if they wanted to. how we never see him treat another being, human or otherwise, with anything less than respect, optimism and good nature. i’m just. i mean. do you realize how significant this is?
you guys, if poe dameron is the future of male protagonists in big action movies, sign me the fuck up.
forreal though also: can we talk about the fact that finn spends so much of the movie being scared. he wants people to tell him what’s going on, he wants help, and at one point, he nearly runs away. but the movie really shows us him deciding to come back, to be brave. where poe shows incredible kindness and goofiness and joy (!), finn gives us an incredible amount of vulnerability and emotional open-ness.
this star wars is extraordinary because of the way it gives us such vivid and such different ways to access masculinity, and they are both established as valid and interesting and good.
As with any organization, the Resistance found it necessary to produce training holovids on a variety of topics, from basic demonstrations of the use of important equipment to more nuanced vids on cultural or personnel issues. They were a small force, but tended to be somewhat geographically scattered by necessity, and it saved a lot of time to have a small collection of introductory holovids to show new recruits to get them quickly up to speed.
The most entertaining holovid, however, was widely held to be this one.
DEALING WITH YOUR INEVITABLE CRUSH ON POE DAMERON
The title music swells, epic and orchestral, over a black screen. Fade in: a photo, taken outdoors, head and shoulders, of Poe Dameron, squinting slightly into the sun, jaw set in determination. His hair is tousled and he is in a flight suit and leather jacket, ruggedly attractive.
Another flourish of music, and the title pops bright white text over a black screen:
DEALING WITH YOUR INEVITABLE CRUSH ON POE DAMERON
Fade to footage of Poe Dameron, in a sleeveless tight undershirt smudged with grease and worn-thin trousers that fit very flatteringly behind, bending over to demonstrate how to use a new system of tie-downs to secure equipment such as small spacecraft in inclement weather. His hair is a little too long and falls across his forehead; he habitually shakes his head a little to keep it away from his eyes, in a charming gesture, and he frequently looks to the camera for guidance, which gives him an appealing, almost supplicant aspect, especially since he frequently smiles at the cameraman.
Voiceover (male, smooth, cultured, the same one who narrates most of the rest of the instructional holovids the Resistance produces): “It’s not a question of if, but when. It’s a natural part of joining the Resistance. Everyone says, oh, it won’t happen to me, I’m immune to that sort of thing. But everyone in the Resistance eventually ends up with a crush on Poe Dameron.”
Cut to head-and-shoulders shot of a middle-aged mechanic, female, in work attire, clearly in a spacecraft hangar, holding a wrench in one hand. There’s a label at the bottom of the screen: Yana, Mechanic. Below that it says, He Remembers Her Name. “You may think you’re immune to his looks,” she says, “but then he remembers your name after only having met you once, and claps you on the shoulder, and calls you ‘buddy’ and smiles at you.” She sighed. “And it only gets worse from there.”
Quick cut to a shot, zoomed in from a distance, of Poe Dameron standing on the ladder to the cockpit of his X-Wing. It is a video; he is watching someone offscreen do something, the wind gently ruffling his tousled hair and his helmet under one arm. His mouth is slightly open; after a moment he licks his lower lip, then grins, like he’s about to speak.
Meanwhile, voiceover:
“Don’t be alarmed. These are natural feelings. Take comfort in the fact that you aren’t alone. And you can console yourself in the knowledge that he has this effect on everyone.”
Cut to head and shoulders shot of a young pilot, female, dark-haired; she is attractively dressed and made-up, but wearing her flight suit. The label at the bottom of the screen says Jessika Pava, Pilot, and is subtitled, He Has Saved Her Life About 100 Times. “It’s not his fault,” she says. “That’s the thing you have to keep in mind. He’s really like that. He’s really actually nice to people. He’s completely sincere.”
A still shot fills the screen: Poe Dameron, very young, aged perhaps sixteen or seventeen. He is standing on a table, possibly dancing, shirtless, wearing New Republic Academy uniform trousers and suspenders. The suspenders are slipping down his shoulders, and he has his head tipped back and is provocatively mock-fellating a bottle clearly labeled “Corellian Death Rum” while staring seductively into the camera. He is clearly intoxicated.
Meanwhile, voiceover:
“Methods of coping with this affliction vary by individual. Some people pretend they don’t feel it. Others give themselves over to it. A few daring individuals have tried to actually go for it. But it seems that despite a wild youth, Poe has settled into a reasonably responsible adulthood. It is not recommended that you pursue him aggressively.”
Cut, footage of a very attractive blonde woman in her early thirties, in a New Republican Starfleet uniform. She is labeled Garella Unaeron, and subtitled Shared Single, Memorable Wild Night Of Passion. “I just broke into his quarters and got naked and lay in his bed until he showed up,” she says, looking smug. “It went well for me, but I mean, we were also like eighteen. So. I don’t imagine that’d go as well now he’s defected to the Resistance.” She tosses her hair, clearly taking a moment to remember. “But I mean, if you go for it,” she went on, “much as I loathe his politics, I gotta say, he’s really great in the sack. I don’t imagine he’s lost the knack, it’s not the kind of thing you get worse at with practice.” Suddenly her expression changes, twisting into suspicion. “Wait, who did you say you were again?” The camera jerks and the footage ends abruptly.
The next shot is a craggily-handsome man in his late thirties, with a scar down one cheekbone that speaks of a life of action. He is labeled Naeher Adamant, and subtitled Had Actual Grown-Up Sexual Relationship. “A gentleman never kisses and tells,” he says, unsmiling, but he looks pleased nonetheless, or perhaps fond. “I can tell you, though, that Dameron is never other than entirely genuine. There’s no need to play games.”
Another cut, another interview subject, head and shoulders of a shiny-polished droid. Titled CR-31T, Mechanic, and subtitled He Is Really That Nice All The Time. “I’ve never worked with any other human who went so out of his way to make sure I understood that he considered me a person, on par with a biological organism,” the droid said, a little shyly. “It’s not— I don’t mind, you know, I know what I am, but he’s just— he’s so nice.”
Cut to footage of Poe Dameron, dressed in his flight suit, clearly training footage of some kind as he is watching someone offscreen and gesturing a little hesitantly to parts of his gear, as if in demonstration. He is apparently a little bored with making training videos, however, and is making amusing faces at the offscreen person, exaggerated expressions of wide-eyed wonder and grimacing trepidation.
Meanwhile, voiceover:
“So when you find yourself suffused with inappropriate feelings for this particular individual, just remember, you’re not alone. Speak to your counselor about what coping method is best for you. And above all, don’t make it weird: we’re relying on him, and his possibly-unholy combination of dashing charm and uncanny good luck. Try to use your misplaced erotic energy wisely.”
The music swells again, and the scene cuts to another video of Poe, zoomed in on him from quite a distance; he is outdoors, watching something at a distance with a vacant half-smile. The wind, again, ruffles his hair slightly, attractively, and he laughs silently, eyes crinkling up fetchingly. The title rolls up the screen again:
DEALING WITH YOUR INEVITABLE CRUSH ON POE DAMERON
As the scene fades to black, the title is the last thing visible, then winks out as well.
____
This is part of a longer thing that’s not really coming together yet but I promise it will. @artgroves and I are working together on it and I am more excited than I can even express.
I am crying. Try to use your misplaced erotic energy wisely.
Their ship malfunctions, the mission goes south, and the royal guards catch them trying to steal parts and get the hell out of orbit. Poe is clapped in irons and thrown into the royal dungeon without incident, but the droid who processes Finn starts beeping dramatically, and in short order Finn is surrounded by excited doctors who take his blood, print his feet, and gape wildly at each other before apologizing, profusely. One of them starts weeping as she bandages the little puncture on his arm, where she’d drawn blood.
“Um, that’s all right,” Finn says, uncomfortable, trying to pull his arm away. She weeps harder, and mutters something about twenty-three years and eight pounds, eleven ounces. “You don’t have to–do whatever it is you’re doing. You could let us go, though, if you want,” he adds optimistically.
They do not let him go.
Instead, they sweep him into the nicest room Finn has ever seen–all gold and marble with real silk curtains and a forcefield glittering over the windows. Two humans are waiting for him–one very old woman, and one man maybe a little younger than the General. The man lets out a little involuntary sound when he sees Finn, and the woman visibly pales, gripping the man’s arm tight enough that Finn can see her knuckles whiten.
The man recovers himself first, although he can’t stop himself from staring at Finn, as though some private secret is laid bare by Finn’s face. “What’s your name?” he asks Finn, hoarsely.
“Finn Dameron,” Finn tells them, and begins uncertainly to give them the cover identity he and Poe came up with a while back. “I’m a pilot on the New Destiny, on my way to Yavin 4. My ship crash-landed just outside the capital, and–it was all a misunderstanding, but you’ve got my copilot in your dungeon, ma’am. Sir.”
“Your name is not Finn Dameron,” the old woman says, brushing off the man, and Finn feels a brief flicker of panic–does she know? How could she know? They’re not in First Order territory–when she steps forward until she’s standing just in front of him. She’s just as tall as he is, and her eyes are dark and glittering. She takes both of his hands in hers, and Finn feels his mouth go dry, a strange dread welling up in him for whatever she’s about to say next. “Your name is Orion Nox D’elian,” she says in a clear, merciless voice. “Your father was Lesser-Prince Isa Nox D’elian. You are my grandson.”
*
Finn tries to explain that it’s not possible, he was a Stormtrooper, he doesn’t have a family, but everyone keeps chiming in to explain how it is possible. Lesser-Prince Isa was killed on a hospital-ship raid. All the children who didn’t die were taken by the First Order, including Lesser-Prince Orion. He was three months old. They’ve been looking for him ever since.
Looking for Prince Orion, Finn reminds himself, staving back the panic and shaking his head wildly at the servant who tries offering him a platter of unfamiliar sweet-smelling fruit. Not FN-1287, and definitely not Finn Dameron, Resistance soldier.
“Your mother has been notified,” the man says, who turns out to be High-Prince Mada Nox D’elian, and keeps telling Finn that he’s his uncle. He can’t seem to stop smiling, and it’s not helping Finn’s nerves.“She’s on a diplomatic mission to Titian 3, but she’s already on her way back. It shouldn’t take more than a day.”
But Finn doesn’t have a mother–has never had a mother–and the thought of this strange woman appearing and claiming the title makes him suddenly sick. “I want to see Poe Dameron,” he says loudly, interrupting the High-Prince, who is showing him a holo of Lesser-Prince Isa, who looks horrifically like the face Finn knows from the mirror. “He’s my friend. My copilot. In your dungeon. Can you–I want to see him. Please.”
When they bring Poe up, he’s clearly been run under a sonic, because the sweat and grime they’d both accumulated on the journey from the crash site is gone. He’s also been bundled into a raw silk robe, and someone’s spritzed tea-tree oil into his hair, as Finn discovers when he races to hug Poe and get his grip on reality back.
“Hey, hey, buddy,” Poe says cautiously into Finn’s hair, hugging back just as tightly. His body is tense against Finn’s, but he doesn’t seem like he’s about to bolt, as much as Finn might welcome the idea.“You okay?”
“I’m okay,” Finn confirms, still inhaling tea-tree oil. “They, um. They think I’m their missing prince.”
“Wow,” Poe says slowly, hands slipping away as Finn reluctantly detaches himself. “I mean. Wow. That explains why they keep calling me princess-consort, anyway.”
