No offense but if Star Wars Episode VIII was nothing more than 3 hours of Poe flying around to different planets and showing Rey and Finn all the wonders of the universe, all the food and drink and fun they missed out on, with BB-8 and Chewie makig noises in the background, and an occasional cut to a shot of Captain Phasma with her helmet off lifting weights, I would be perfectly happy
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.”
But what if Anakin isn’t ignoring Kylo Ren? What if that great pull Kylo feels towards the Light is Anakin Skywalker desperately trying to save his grandson from his own fate, the way his wife and son tried to save him?
what if Anakin is literally constantly standing behind Kylo Ren, sputtering with ghostly frustration, going, “No! No! No! Do not do that! Do NOT do that! oh for fuck’s sake.”
This is almost certainly what is actually happening.
“Ben if you skewer my son-in-law with that lightsaber then SO HELP ME”
“Ben Solo your mother is blaming me for this, get your ass home and apologize now or I swear-”
And Yoda and Obi-wan are watching, shaking their heads. “Now you know how we felt,” Obi-wan says.
Yoda agrees: “A bitch, karma is.”
I love this. So many people can just totally see Anakin trying to strangle Ben from the afterlife.
I didn’t even like Star Wars before TFA and even I can say that this is the ONLY truly feasible option.
i am super embarrassingly heartbreakingly invested in poe being canonically gay and i am also legitimately so glad that for ONCE EVER fandom has not just decided to unilaterally ignore a black man having an extremely slashable relationship and have, instead, rallied behind it
but i really wish it would do that without being gross and dismissive about finn and rey’s relationship in ways that literally just mimics the exact same language and rationale always used to exclude black men as romantic interests in both fanon and canon
the fact that you’re shipping poe/finn doesn’t actually make ignoring the obvious romantic setup of finn/rey by discussing how there’s ~no chemistry~ and finn’s so much more like a brother to rey and she so obviously doesn’t return his feelings any less hurtful
like here’s the thing: with john boyega and daisy ridley as leads, with rey and finn written as they were, their relationship being the huge focus that it was, their caring for each other being the emotional throughline for the film that it was, they set up a fucking star wars trilogy to revolve around a black leading man in an interracial relationship with a white woman which is still such a huge taboo it’s straight up fucking embarrassing
and yes it would be a magical occurrence of wonder and delights if finn/poe was actually canon, but it’s already pretty fucking wonderful that finn/rey is so idk maybe don’t casually shit on that bcs it’s kinda important
