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who: finn and OPEN
what: tdm prompts (dreamshare, big robits)! canon updates! and a general february catchall.
when: backdated late january through all of february. various.
where: idk, dreams. big robits. generally around.
warnings: violence towards Big Beetles, nightmare content (which includes death, more violence, and maybe vague body horror idk). spoilers for the last jedi. will add as things crop up.

[ splitting starters off into the comments below to save on wall-of-text properties! can be reached by PM or at

comatoseroses for plotting! ]

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[ Name a more iconic and emotionally savvy duo. I dare you. They're having a great time.

It's more personal. When it goes both ways, when it's someone you really know already. Poe's anger lifts, gets filtered into something different but still familiar. Something a little easier to source, to work around.

Will Finn ever turn down a hug in his life? Who knows. If he does, it's not happening today. Even, you know, thirty seconds after the first one. It's nice. Less bone-breaking. ]

I'm good. You know, just. [ Sort of a shrug? Just uh. It's a wild morning. He's not 100% sure how he was planning on finishing that one.

Finn is starting to suspect that they're both gonna keep saying they're okay for the foreseeable future. Because he's not sure he has it in him not to ask when it's his first impulse, and he's not sure Poe has it in him either, and they're both pretty package-dealed into being worried together. ]

Probably better not to think about it too much.

[ Poe snorts. ] Easier said.

[ He's pretty sure it's all either one of them is going to be able to think about, and he's also pretty sure there's gonna be no hiding the fact that it's all either one of them is thinking about.

He tries to calm down, tries to get that sense of helplessness under control. It's so much easier to just be angry. It's so much easier to just drive against things until they break.

Lights in the sky. Lights in the sky, seen throughout the galaxy. Lights he can't think about when he lands on D'Qar, lights he can't think about as he leads Finn down into the base to find Leia, lights he can't think about while they plan the assault on Starkiller.

Lights he can't think about, can't think about, because they'll be all he can think about if he starts.

It isn't until after, when he's changed out of his jumpsuit and into his uniform to address his pilots about the Starkiller casualties. It isn't until they see Rey off and the evacuation starts.

Then he can think about them. And he can't stop.

The faces play out in his mind, squadmates and rivals, Academy friends. Bantu, the Abednedo restaurant owner who'd given him and his Academy squaddies their meals for free. Leneera, the weapons shop and range owner who let them try her newest blasters in exchange for a promise to tell their commanders about them. Kor Sella, Leia's devoted right hand. How many of them were there? How many of them saw death coming?

Their faces play out in his mind during the evacuation and after, as he and BB-8 taunt Hux and draw the fire of the First Order's fighters, blasting their surface cannons and clearing the way for retribution. For every escort shot down, every bomber destroyed, Poe's rage builds into something wild and untamable, a beast that wants blood no matter the cost. A monster that wants the First Order to suffer for every murdered innocent of the system they annihilated.

A monster that only weakens when it sees the bombs drop on the dreadnaught, only comes back into his control as he sees Paige Tico's bomber go down. As he sees Paige die.

It's the First Order's doing. It's the First Order's fault. (It's his, it's his fault, he murdered their bombing fleet and lost half the fleet's guard.)

Helplessness and rage unbridled. That's all he is, all he has, and he wants the First Order to pay. ]

[ A flash, the foreign feeling of what he knows isn't quite his, all the pieces Finn's already coming to-- expect, at least, to brace himself for, despite never knowing exactly when it's going to happen again. Being on edge isn't new. Adapting on the fly is part of getting by.

But the rest of it, the content, there's no bracing for. Can't be ready for what you don't know.

It's like stepping into a puddle and finding that it has no bottom. Like stumbling onto the edge of a ragged hole in the universe where something was, and it doesn't make sense, and at first that's all that it really is. The same numb-but-not sting that comes first after taking a solid hit to the face; a senselessness that makes Finn think of the skirmish on Jakku, the feeling of reaching out for something that should be there-- and the edge of that hole caves in, and the almost-numbness dies out, and loss blooms out it--

And he's blindly fumbling for Poe's hand, not sure if it's for him or for Poe or maybe both of them at once, holding a breath in. A barely-registered anchor while loss folds into something white-hot and far more familiar. Something that hasn't left, just been tempered by necessity in this place, sitting idle.

Which Poe probably understands better than anyone, he realizes, since Poe's been pretty much doing the same thing.

For a moment, he starts to think that this one just isn't gonna end. The loss and the anger and the helplessness and the lingering image of ships going down. Too big a hole to climb back out of. That's a pretty wild moment. It's followed with unquestionable relief when he blinks and is, in fact, still standing in their completely necessarily chic apartment. And concern still, that steady baseline they seem to keep circling back to.

He should maybe try to say something about it. Or cut to the chase and trade out the hand grab for another hug, or add to their pile of "are you okay"s when they both know they're not, or something. Because the flash is over but it leaves bits and pieces in its wake, sort of an aftertaste that's hard to shake off, and something would be a very good thing to have in his arsenal right now.

Or, consider. Blurting out the first words that manage to pop into his head and not trading the hand grab out at all. Sometimes the best solution to not knowing what to do with yourself is to sound offended and a little salty about the situation at large. ]

When this is over, we're not telling each other what we think about anything for a week.

[ A bold strategy. (A blatant untruth.)

It's gonna be okay, and it's gonna end just like the other times, and they can do this and it's fine. It's fine. ]

I'm holding you to that, and I'm going to cook the worst food I can think of the entire time.

[ It's a weak joke, but he's scared. He's scared of what Finn could have seen, he's scared of the mix of emotions he can feel coming from his friend. He hates being scared. He's afraid of hating being scared now, if everything he feels can set off some new shared memory.

Poe squeezes Finn's hand. He almost asks again: What do we do? ]

Maybe that jog?

[ Maybe they can tire themselves out, to the point of not feeling anything. Maybe that will help somehow. It's worth trying something. ]

[ A weak joke is better than none. Finn doesn't have the resources to allocate for a laugh; he dredges up a snort. He could say bad food doesn't count, but if Poe goes through on that once for goofing, Poe surely knows he's just opening himself up for the roast. And if he doesn't, he'll get a fun surprise. Of opinions. ]

Yeah. Yeah. I'm gonna get my shoes.

[ Which he does go to do! In a way, that's a success. Finn sort of wishes he knew how to feel something reassuring on demand, because that would be very handy right about now. He doesn't know what to do with fear and a whole other package of significantly more than fear that's not his, from someone who doesn't handle things the same way he does. What he knows is it's hard to operate when they're both circling the edges of the same emotional drain. And what he knows is that when it's just himself he has to deal with, sometimes if he thinks at himself hard enough and finds something else to do, things get easier.

Jogs are good. Something to focus on. Somewhere to start. Poe is, as always, a pretty smart person.

He takes a minute. Definitely to the point of longer than necessary. There's no genuine privacy between them right now, with this, but going through the motions of taking that minute is worth doing. And he thinks very hard at himself. And with even something as simple as a run to focus on, with a few breaths, he can almost settle. Reel himself in, try to be mindful of circling back to anything within the past ten minutes or so. No time for fear when you're doing something. No time for it when you're the one who knows more about what's happening.

It's restraint. Restraint is in his wheelhouse. If you can't control what you're feeling, which no one can, you can still control what you think.

Basically he needs this minute to give himself a pep-talk and to try to shove a lot of things under a lot of rugs before he's stepping back out for jog nation. Because even if they're not doing great and they're both painfully aware of how not-great they are, he's got a better chance of being okay if he acts like he is. It's foolproof. Han Solo would be proud. ]

Good?

[ And basically if you want some space for Poe to do his own rug-shoving and introspection, I feel that and go for it, then in my tag after that I'm probably gonna just make a jog Happen. ]

[ Poe, also, takes a minute.

He goes into his room, shuts the door, and then braces both hands against the foot of the bed he barely ever uses. Poe closes his eyes. He's flying with a crippled wing, here, fighting a tailspin inside his own head.

Normally, thinking about Finn is what puts him back on solid ground. What would Finn do, what would Finn think, keep it together for Finn. This time, though, all it does is remind him of the presence in his head that isn't his. It reminds him of what Finn can feel in him right now, the fear and the anger and all the things he tries and succeeds at hiding more often than people might think.

Poe bows his head until it touches the bed's baseboard and tries to breathe. Course-correct. Guide himself out of the spin. His hands fist against the sheets. ]

Easy, Dameron.

[ In the corner of the room, there's a quiet boop and BB-8 powers up, out of charge mode. Poe straightens.

If he can't think of Finn without dwelling on what's happening, he can at least think of BB-8. He can focus on being okay for . the droid, not worrying him, not falling apart over this.

Deep breath. Exhale. ]

Hey, buddy. You're just in time for a jog.

[ He's mostly put himself together when he comes out of the room to find Finn waiting, BB-8 at his heels. A shaky smile. ]

Oh yeah. I'm great.

[ There's solidarity in this mutual unspoken consensus. In this joint effort to scrape themselves together as much as they can, to move instead of freezing up. The hope that if they both manage to pull away right, they can find some kind of a balance.

He feels it. Maybe not balance, maybe not any sense of real peace and calm, but the effort. And that has to count for something. Because if it doesn't, they're pretty much doomed to spend the next day or so trying to be unconscious. Not ideal.

They're very not great but Finn is more than willing to keep hacking away at this faux-equilibrium.

So they do. A Jog. Possibly in the form of a montage with those wavy about-to-reminisce video effects that people use for Scooby Doo cartoons sometimes. And this jog is largely, thankfully, uneventful. Maybe the occasional problem with switching points of view for a few seconds at a time, presumably the odd flash of nondescript memory here or there. BB-8 probably does a lot of very good work herding them away from accidentally running off of bridges or into traffic. Because BB-8 is the best droid in the world. We've known this.

They're coming to a stop for a much-needed breather when the next memory rolls in from Finn's end. It's here to prove that they have good memories. It's here because. As of this general date in the log, it's actually a relatively recent memory and I think the event said recent ones are also likely to crop up. But it's also here because I stan Cassian Andor OOC, and so do Finn and Poe, and this is vital content for both of them.

(I'm about 80% sure this tag made sense, but I'm also tired so if I'm wrong you can definitely lmk.) ]

[ This is the cutest shit Poe has seen since BB-8 got in that beep-barking match with the little fuzzy dog thing they met in the park the other day, and in fact it might have the battle beat in terms of Purity and Wholesomeness.

Finn gets a flood of warmth from Poe's end, tangled up in relief that what he felt coming turned into something... nice. He'd been starting to wonder if they were allowed nice, with all of this.

Cassian laughed. Cassian laughed, and Poe can't help but make it his mission to hear that for himself some day. It's too good a sound to stay locked up.

The memory--the good memory--uncoils something ugly and afraid in Poe and scorches it away, for now. It's like the universe saying see? It's not all bad. See? You've both made good things in the world, too. ]

Next time, me and Jyn versus you an Cassian. [ Wait-- ] Racing, I mean. I saw the sleds. The two of you.

[ It takes him a second to follow that thought track to the oh right point. Mostly because he was caught up feeling relieved to feel relieved, more or less.

Finn knows more than well enough that no one is perfect, and Poe is as human as anyone, and that covers a broad, broad span of emotional and mental hangups. It's just how things are. But he doesn't think of ill-concealed terror and barely scraping by when he thinks of Poe. All the human flaws in the world can't keep him from associating Poe with this kind of warmth, with even the most tenuous of hopefulness.

There's still a piece of that to touch base on, in some way. Even now.

Shoutout to the dumb mental connection conspiracy thing going on today for giving them that much. ]

Yeah? [ Good. Excellent. A memory that didn't make Poe get mad and then hug him. If he had it his way and had any kind of control in this, those would be the kinds of memories he picked.

Plus yeah. That race sounds pretty fun. If anything, it's too bad they didn't do it during Hygge. Next time sort of relies on being around this place for a year. ] If she starts throwing snow, I will throw back. You've got time to get your ground rules figured out.

[ Mercifully, Poe isn't thinking about what "next time" actually means. He's not thinking about the fact that they would have to be here a year for that to happen. He's caught up in the thrill Finn felt, how familiar and freeing it is.

How much it feels like safety and home. ]

Ground rule number one: whatever Jyn wants to do, Jyn gets to do.

[ You come at me with these good and gentle memories. Into my own home, personally.

It's good to get the firsthand proof that, yes, good things exist both ways and have happened to them. Knowing it logically only got either of them so far and all. There's relief there, in place of the old dread, and all the leftover echoes of how it felt, a feedback loop of piecemeal joy and exhiliration. Some of that fond nostalgia. You can definitely be fondly nostalgic of a month-old memory on his part. He doesn't make the rules. What he gets from Poe right now only corroborates that.

But there is a sort of fleeting-- out-of-placeness that winds its way in. It's like he walked into Canto Bight and someone handed him a very fancy fragile vase to hold for them and walked off. There he is. Positive he's not qualified to be holding it, even if it's objectively a very beautiful, good thing to behold.

It feels weirdly more intrusive to have witnessed than any of the old angers, or Poe's distant private melancholy with his father.

Explains a lot about Poe, though. That's the easiest thing about it. ]

I said ground rules. Not city laws.

[ As we all know, Jyn does what she wants is in fact a city-wide law. ]

[ He actually grins, as much at Finn's response as at the fact that he feels like smiling. He's not built to exist in a world without jokes, without friendship and good memories. Without hope. Even though they're connected, even though Poe has a hard time telling where what Finn feels ends and where he begins, at least he trusts who he's sharing with.

It might be forced, but at least they're in it together, and they've got something good to show for it, too. ]

You want to get something to eat? Before we head back? I'll even let you get broccoli on it without complaining.

[ You put broccoli on pizza one (or two or three) times and suddenly broccoli becomes an expected topping for everything. ]

You shouldn't anyway! [ Poe can literally feel in realtime as Finn's 1/2 inch deep offense rises to greet him. For the whole two seconds that it registers in Finn's expression, full-blast, it turns out it has all the weight and potency of a spider web. It's very important to detail this, the emotional equivalent of that time BB-8 did his little offended backwards roll, obviously. It's basically the dumbest emotion of them all. ]

You know you don't have to eat it. I know you know you don't have to eat it. You're losing ground every time you try.

[ It adds! Nutritional value! He likes to eat things that are good for something! It tastes good! One day he'll whip out the 10,000 word defense thesis and immediately get told that "I just like it" was equally valid. There's a whole thesis on Finn's eating habits in general probably. The important thing here is: Poe clearly really is the true villain of Star Wars. Gosh.

There isn't a cool segue into the great Phasma yeeting interpretation of promised days past, except that it was a thing Finn was thinking about a lot with January being what it was. And maybe in the raw charisma of his broccoli related passion. The "you and I both know the truth" energy.

Energy which obviously vegetables provided him? Checkmate. ]

[ The adrenaline and anger hits Poe in a rush. His surroundings all but vanish into the memory. He's breathless with hope at the reaction of the stormtroopers, breathless in the rush of the fight, taken enough to grab Finn's arm to keep himself grounded.

In the wake of Finn's memory comes pride, and a fierce renewed hope that Poe didn't know he was missing. A feeling that's been largely eclipsed by sorrow at the loss of friends and comrades, burning through to the surface once again.

The stormtroopers listened. The stormtroopers listened. He looks into Finn's eyes, his own bright. ]

I know you don't like being called a hero, Finn, but you're more than just a soldier. You're going to be a leader. I know you are.

[ What does this have to do with broccoli? Fucking nothing at all, but Poe doesn't care right now. He couldn't be more proud. ]

[ There's a solid half a second where, despite all the very obvious signs that memory lane is back at it again, Finn really is straight-up confused about how being salty over broccoli connected to inspirational leadership? It's easily within the top five most wild moments of this day so far.

Once he catches up to that half second, he takes a sudden track change to whatever the closest emotional equivalent of "character in a studio Ghibli movie is surprised, so their hair responds and fluffs up somehow like a sentient creature" is. A bold mix of still slightly confused, flattered, and the hint of alarm with no specific target in mind. He can't believe he's legitimately tapped in live to Poe's emotions and old memories and he still doesn't get what the guy's about half the time. ]

Thanks.

[ It's too late to make that come out like less of a question.

He has the vote of confidence, now what does he do with it. It's practically a whole responsibility now. Poe's always had different standards for heroism and leadership, though. Finn thinks he'll try not to really read into this. There are a lot of different little emotional pieces pinging around and they're not easy to pinpoint. Maybe he'll come to a stop at being glad he apparently did something good enough to get Poe to light up like a bonfire in retrospect. He's not above being pleased about that.

Finn sort of pats Poe on the forearm. ]

You good?

[ Poe laughs. Of course Finn is confused. God, this whole thing is ridiculous, viewed a certain way. He slings his arm around Finn's shoulders in response. ]

I am.

[ A pause. ]

Phasma isn't.

[ There is a certain and unavoidable sadistic glee at that. ]

[ Finn takes his requisite oh moment. Because the logic does naturally fall into place at that, as far as Poe's whole emotional journey and fresh wave of "Finn can do good things" energy goes.

You know, makes more sense than broccoli. How can he be chill about this. ]

Right. That. Yeah.

[ He can't say how much of that satisfaction is coming from him off the top of his head, how much of the pride. The "we can't just fight what we hate, we have to save what we love too" sentiment still rattles around in his brain now and again, but, well.

The things he loves weren't exactly on his mind for most of that. More the anger. Even if it wasn't solely on his own behalf, he knows what it was. Anger, and that familiar old thread of fear after he hit her properly the first time, after he fired. That whole two seconds of daring to hope, even for something as small as turning an enemy into the enemy of the other enemy. She had an awful lot of traitor talk to throw around for someone in her position. For a second, he really thought--

And a little guilt trickles in, then; it's a hard map of logic to parse. If he hadn't called her out, if they hadn't believed him, she wouldn't have put them down. And it feels worse than just shooting someone before they manage to shoot him first, somehow. He feels weirdly more responsible for it. But if he hadn't, he'd be dead. But it's not like he's worth more. But it's not like he's worth less. Just a big set of pointless thought circles.

Maybe someday he'll hold up the mirror and there won't be anyone to stop a handful of troopers from having a thought. ]

Turns out people do get what they have coming once in a while.

[ Boy, he would absolutely fight her again. ]

[ Poe tries to work through the swirl of guilt and confusion, that ghostly sense of wheels spinning against each other. It's not hard to figure out where it comes from--those troopers, caught in hesitation for just a moment too long, executed for a moment of doubt.

Poe can't help thinking of his own people, the bombers and escorts destroyed, the guilt he carries with him and will probably carry for the rest of his life. It's a swirl of empathy and sorrow. He gives Finn's shoulders a little squeeze. ]

We'll make sure it happens again. And again. Until everyone who leads the First Order is dead and your people have a chance to decide who they want to be for themselves.

[ His people.

He hasn't thought of them that way. Not in a while, that is. Since he used to think he had a chance of being one of them, if he just tried hard enough.

But the fact is, if they break the First Order down one piece at a time, if most of the soldiers somehow, miraculously, choose to leave once the door is opened-- how many of them have someone or somewhere left to return to? How many of them would have even the potential of something left to find? How many of them would want to try to go back to what they don't remember, never learned to care about?

Even Finn's written off a home planet and a birth family as something he'll never touch. It doesn't hurt. It's just something that's there. Simple fact. He wouldn't trade what he's found for what he doesn't remember losing. Somehow, he doesn't feel like he'd be in the minority with that particular thought process. If it gets to it.

His people.

Maybe they could be.

Poe is such a great friend. Gross. ]

I've heard more impossible things. Might as well add it to the list.

[ Just save the galaxy, make sure Rey becomes the best kickass Jedi in history (already done probably), free all the stormtroopers, grind the bones of the First Order into dust. They'll get home and have that done by dinnertime. ]

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