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The Sun Rises
Haha, what if I wrote a fanfic over an even more obscure character?
Fandoms: Super Smash Bros., Minecraft
Summary: A lone butcher villager is all that remains of a plains village––until the fighters arrive. (A story about the butcher villager in the Minecraft World stage.)
Rating: Rated E10+ for Everyone Ten and Up
Warnings: Implications/references to death
Genres: Angst & Friendship
Word Count: ~1.2K
The butcher wakes up, ties their apron around their waist and leaves their modest house for the day. There are chores to be done: attend to the farmland, see to the livestock and clean up around the house.
Maintaining the farm area is the most strenuous chore: pulling up the weeds, digging up the carrots and potatoes and beetroot, cutting the wheat with a sickle the butcher occasionally sharpened on the old grindstone. The Sun is especially hot today, and sweat beads on their brow as they grab and cut through the wheat with a practiced hand. They can never be as good as the old farmers, but they have gone through the process enough.
A tied-up bundle of wheat in their arms, they make their way to the pens, humming softly to theirself to fill in the quiet. The baaing of sheep and mooing of cattle breaks the silence as the animals eagerly crowd the fence gate. The butcher weaves through the bunch and sets the wheat down in the middle of the pen. They allow theirself a moment to watch the livestock feed, patting those near the villager.
It is afternoon, now. The butcher pays no mind to the soot accumulating on their hands as they pick up the bones from the skeletons that burned once the sunlight shone. The bones crush easily in their calloused hands, and it doesn't take long to spread the bone meal on the crops. They leave the rotten flesh of the scorched zombies on the ground to decompose. They used to care about getting rid of it, but no longer.
They watch the Sun set through their browned glass window, fiddling with an iron nugget between their hands. Once the sky burns red, they go to bed.
They have nightmares of long-past events. They have dreams of what-ifs. They wake up, having already dreamed it all.
The Sun rises.
The undead burn as the butcher leaves their house, no longer able to be afraid, one reason or another. There is no wheat to cut––only some beetroots to uproot. After checking the animals, they cook the beetroots into a fine soup and relax on their house's stairs.
Then, there is a shout, a shout that bellows and booms across the plains to the mountains. "Kirby! Steve!"
On the worn path before the villager's house, two figures materialize: a short and pink mob the butcher has never seen before and one with dark brown skin and purple eyes. For whatever reason, the purple-eyed one is familiar to them.
"Three, two, one––go!"
The two clash, faster than the villager can process. They bob and weave, hit and slash, mine and build––until the taller one falls and the round one claps.
"Kirby wins!" The thunderous voice calls out before the two disappear just as quickly as they arrived.
The butcher drains the last of their soup and goes to bed. They are aware that they should care more about the peculiar situation they witnessed. They can't care regardless. They have a nightmare about zombies, about doors being broken down, about defenders falling.
The Sun rises.
The voice returns, announcing new names. "Captain Falcon! Lucina!" The butcher goes about their day, avoiding the area of trodden grass in front of their house as the two new ones engage in a fight. They walk closer to the old houses of the village as a result––much closer than they would prefer. The houses' cobwebs glisten from the shower during the previous night, and the butcher cannot help their gaze from wandering back to the decaying wood and crumbling stone. They remember names, one mentally attached to each and every dilapidated build. They wish they didn't.
The two are done by the time the butcher has finished their rounds, with the sword-bearer beaming victoriously before they both vanish. The villager worries the shinied iron nugget in their hands as they look to the sky. It is simmering into a deep orange, the ripe color for the undead to begin their prowl. They briefly consider staying outside, but decide against it as they head inside.
The Sun rises and rises and rises...
The fights continue, sometimes with new participants and sometimes old. The butcher gradually begins to watch the brawls, oohing at stylish moves and wincing at powerful hits. Still, they maintain their routine. They find a new path to take away from the rest of what was once a village. Life settles again into a groove the villager can follow through without much thought.
Then, it is shattered again when a fight ends, and yet the fighters don't disappear. The purple-eyed one helps their fallen combatant up, a yellow-furred and long-tailed creature, and then approaches the butcher sitting on the stairs.
The villager looks up. The purple-eyed one––Steve, the villager has been able to determine––shifts on their feet.
"Yes?" the villager ventures, their voice a croak from disuse.
"You..." Steve says, trailing off. "You seem lonely in this abandoned village."
The butcher cants their gaze down. "It wasn't abandoned."
The silence stretches. "Would you like to join us?" Steve asks. "For dinner, at least?"
The villager takes a single look across the entirety of the village: caved-in roofs, shattered windows, that still lingering scent of death. There is nothing for them here.
The villager nods and takes ahold of Steve's outstretched hand. A feeling of weightlessness overtakes the butcher, and their vision flashes into white until the colors drain back in to show a nicely decorated lobby, full of all the fighters. There is an enormous sound of chattering that fills up the entirety of the space as Steve leads them all to a dining room, and it continues on into the meal. The butcher listens to explanations, to stories, to singing, to laughing, and it is all beautifully loud. The villager laughs theirself, when they can't even recall the last time they did.
Dinner is eventually finished, and the villager is brought back to their house. "Would you want to join us tomorrow?" Steve asks as the Sun sets.
The butcher nods, a hole in their chest filling in. "Yes, I would."
The Sun rises.
The villager learns new names and new faces, all of them happy to greet the butcher when they arrive to the Smash Mansion. The villager creates grand meals for the fighters, finding the fun in cooking for others once again. They talk. They laugh. They find happiness again. They finally cry and let theirself grieve.
Eventually, they find theirself at the livestock's pen. It only takes one swing of an axe to break down the gate and let the animals out. The livestock graze as the villager takes the last of their belongings from their old house, taking care to close its door gently. They let out a breath as they look at the house one last time. Then, they turn around and grab Steve's hand as the two vanish, returning back home to the mansion.
The Sun sets.
Haha, what if I wrote a fanfic over an obscure character?
Fandom: Super Mario
Summary: Foreman Spike reflects on a past golf match with Mario.
Rating: Rated E for Everyone
Warnings: Nothing, really.
Genre: Pre-Friendship? Not really a genre, but I don't know how else to describe this.
Word Count: 641
Even though he would yap at the other workers for lollygagging, he found himself taking his foot off the gas pedal and watching the two for a bit. Although he heard of Mario and Luigi through the newspaper and TV, it had been a long while since he actually saw either of them in person. In fact, the last time had been when Mario had invited him to golf.
It had been a nice, sunny day with a cool breeze, although that had done nothing to make Spike any less annoyed as he had walked up to the plumber, who was leaning on his golf club and chatting it up with the princess of that strange Mushroom Kingdom. After the princess left his side, however, Mario noticed him fast, and turned to him with a wide smile.
"You made it!" he exclaimed.
Spike let out a mirthless bark of laugh. "Yeah. So what's your deal?"
Mario tilted his head. "'Deal?'"
Spike scowled. "Actin' all buddy-buddy with me and inviting me to go golfin'."
Mario stopped leaning on his club and stood up straight. "It's been a while since we've seen each other," he said. "And you mentioned once you like golf."
Spike grumbled as he shifted the bag of clubs on his back. He couldn't deny that. "Whatever," he settled with. "Are we startin' soon or what?"
Spike had agreed to the golf game on the belief that there was a catch––that Mario was going to get revenge on him in some way for teaming up with Bowser or all the other times Spike had tried to bring Mr. Famous down a peg. Once Mario did anything of the sort, Spike wasn't above using that dirt against him and proving to everyone that he wasn't as great as so many claimed.
Yet with each stroke and birdie, Mario just smiled and clapped and said "Way to go!" to each player. Even when all the total scores were added up and Spike was deemed winner (naturally), the red-capped fellow just patted his shoulder. "Bravo!" he congratulated.
Spike frowned. "Grazie," he returned without thinking.
"Would you want to join our next golf match?"
Spike huffed. Mario had to be toying with him (right?), and he didn't appreciate that. "No, I'm good."
There was a quick flash of disappointment in the plumber's eyes, but a smile replaced it just as fast. "It was nice to see you again!" he said as Spike left, more confused than when he had arrived.
Spike had been bitter for a long time about Mario, about how he had just joined the job Spike had been working for years, only for Mario to get so much acclaim for saving a woman from some primate. He got so riled up over it, he even took up Bowser's construction job offer just to get back at him. Yet as the years passed, it got harder to hold the grudge when Mario had been so willingly friendly to him, even after he (admittedly) went too far.
Spike hummed, turning his attention back to the controls and pushing down on the gas. He would call Mario and see if he would be willing to catch up after so long, but for now...
He had work to do.
In Hell I'll Be In Good Company
A bit of an outdated headcanon used in this fic, but hey.
Summary: While in a Nether Fortress, Steve contemplates a Wither skeleton.
Rating: Rated T for Teens
Warnings: Some violence; Discussion of death; Death of a mob
Word Count: 623
Steve grunted as he stood up, still gazing at the creature. He found it odd how passive the mobs would become once they realized they couldn't get to him––he would even say they looked peaceful, curious, examining him like he did with them. But he also knew the moment the wall was down, the mob wouldn't hesitate to kill him.
"You gonna stay there?" he asked.
Of course, just like every other mob, even with the intelligent testificates and piglins, the Wither skeleton didn't understand him. It simply watched him.
He raised his diamond sword, making it gleam in the light of the lava source in the middle of the room. "You know I've killed thousands of you, right?"
It mindlessly opened and closed its jaw, showing off its few remaining hole-ridden teeth.
He lowered the weapon, his faraway gaze dropping to the floor. "And you've killed thousands of me."
It clattered, and Steve took it as acknowledgment of his words.
"You don't know that, though," he continued. "As far as you know, this is the first time you've ever seen me."
He paused a beat, eyeing the creature. It was a miracle it could even stand, let alone walk and run. Its bones looked brittle enough that Steve could just reach over and snap any with ease. It would be a bad idea, however; instantly, whatever had overtaken the skeleton would seep into Steve's skin and make his muscles feel like they were being chewed into. He knew how painful it was to die that way.
A pang of guilt and pity hit Steve. "I know words don't really mean much to you anymore, but I'm sorry this is what you've become. I... I really am."
It said nothing in return.
"Maybe... Maybe I can make it up to you. One day." He let out a long sigh. "Another world. Not this one. The world, not just this one, it's still so... damaged. It's recovered so much, but it still needs to heal." Steve glanced to the right hallway, which opened up to reveal hundreds of blocks of Nether wastes. A distant grumble emanated from the red fields.
He then closed his eyes, took a breath and opened them again, raising his sword once more. "Well, I have a temporary solution for now, at least."
One sideways swing was all it took for its skull to fly off, its body crumbling and breaking off into soot and ash. Surprisingly, the skull didn't turn to ash, and instead clanked against the brick flooring and rolled, stopping next to the hallway wall. Steve raised a brow as he took down the wall and made his way to the skull, bending down to look at it. As the Wither skeleton was dead, its withering effect had died with it, letting Steve pick its skull up without any pain.
Steve stared into its sockets. "It has been a while since I've defeated the Wither," he mused. "I guess you could consider that another temporary solution."
Knowing that it truly wasn't a solution at all to the world's hurt, he tucked the skull underneath his arm and began his walk out of the fortress, thinking of the past the whole while.
Monthly Minion Meeting
A fanfic I wrote a little bit ago that I decided to post here.
Fandom: Super Mario
Summary: It's time for the Monthly Minion Meeting (MMM for short) where Bowser addresses what the future plans are for the Koopa Troop––mainly, how they'll defeat Mario. This MMM, however, there are some unexpected guests...
Warnings: Gratuitous use of italics; nothing else I can think of, really
Genre: Possibly humor.
Word Count: ~1.9K
The high-pitched voice of Kamek reached Bowser's ears as he shuffled his notes and straightened them out against a nearby desk. "Yeah," he called out. He could hear the shuffle of Kamek's robe against the stone floors as he approached.
"Oh, good," Kamek said. "I was hoping to perhaps run a last-minute suggestion by you before the meeting starts?"
Bowser turned around with a quirk of the eyebrow. "Like what?"
"Well, while I realize that you're trying to maintain a certain..." Kamek twirled his hand about, "aesthetic, I truly think you should retire the lava room. That Mario uses it as a weapon against you moreso than the other way around."
Bowser huffed. "Absolutely not. When people think 'Bowser,' they also think 'lava.' If I don't have any lava, people will be disappointed!"
"I know, I know, and I'm not saying to never use lava, but maybe this time, don't have a wooden bridge over lava with an axe ready to cut the suspension?" He paused for a bit. "Or a button."
Bowser grunted, crossing his arms. "Don't worry, that's already in my plans. I'll miss the retro feel of it, but it's time we modernize."
"Yes, exactly," Kamek nodded, adjusting his glasses. "Well, that's all I wanted to discuss. Oh, actually, how are your new contacts doing?"
Bowser smirked. "Crystal clear." He had been recommended a new brand, and so far his vision had been clearer and more vivid.
"Good. I'll go take my seat now."
Bowser quickly brushed his claws through his hair. "Before you go, how does my hair look?"
"Positively spiffy, Lord Bowser." With those final words, he went down the stairs of the stage.
Bowser cleared his throat and snapped his fingers at some of the Koopa Troopa stage crew as he walked to the center of the stage. The Koopa Troopas were quick in pulling the ropes and making the red curtains open up to a round of applause and cheers from the audience. He let them celebrate his arrival for a moment before he rose his hand and ushered a wave of silence. He allowed himself a quiet laugh as he set down his notes on the podium before him and adjusted the microphone.
"Welcome, everyone, to the Monthly Minion Meeting!"
The meeting had gone smoothly thus far, and Bowser had decided to break in the middle for a question-and-answer session. "If you have hands, raise 'em, or if you don't, have someone raise their hand for you," he instructed. Many hands rose up among the crowd. Bowser scanned the audience before he pointed to a Fire Bro. "You with the red shell."
A Lakitu in the air with a mike lowered it down to the Fire Bro. The Koopa tapped on it twice before speaking, "I know you said you'd go over it in the next half, but I gotta know now: will there be lava?"
Bowser gave a toothy grin. "Absolutely."
The crowd whooped and hollered at the news. Bowser eventually brought up his hand for them to quiet before looking over the mass of troops for a new person to pick. The new lenses were really proving their worth; everything was just way more crisp, and he was able to more readily make out the people in the back––
Wait. His eyes flicked back to the rear rows. Red and green sat next to each other, which wasn't unusual considering the composition of his army, but was that a pair of mustaches he saw on the two?
With a growl, he bent his legs and jumped, soaring over the audience. Screams filled the air as people rushed out of the way, leaving a clear area for Bowser to land on––right in front of the infamous Mario brothers.
The chairs they sat on hopped into the air at the impact, falling back down shortly after. Mario's chair stayed upright, while the green one's fell backwards with him on it. "Hello!" Mario greeted with a wave as Greenie––er, Luigi––sat up, holding his head.
"What are you two doing here?!" he yelled out, making all the minions jump around him––except for the ones soundly asleep sitting next to the brothers. (Bowser would have a lot to say to those baddies after the meeting was over.) "It's not Go-Kart Saturday, or even Tennis Friday!"
Luigi stood up, worry in his eyes as he rubbed the back of his head. Still, he wasn't shaking like a Tanooki Leaf like he used to when he saw Bowser back in the day. "W-We're here for the MMM," he said, with Mario nodding along to his words.
Bowser brought his head back, taken aback. "The MMM––" he repeated to himself before shaking his head and baring his teeth again. "What do you mean the MMM?!"
Luigi raised his index finger. "You know, the MMM. It stands for Monthly Minion––"
"I know what it stands for! I mean, why are you here for the MMM!"
"W-Well," Luigi began, "every Koopa Troop member is supposed to attend the meetings, i-if able."
Bowser blinked and looked around at all the minions around him, Can you believe this? conveyed in his eyes. His attention returned to the brothers with a humph. "While that is true, you forgot the part where you aren't members!"
"Uh, but... we are," Luigi said.
Mario reached over into his pocket and pulled out a laminated card. "I have the card to prove it!"
"What?! Give me that," he snapped, swinging his arm and snatching the card from Mario's hand. There was no way it was official!
He poured over the tiny thing, mumbling under his breath. Photo, check; red Bowser stamp, check; "Mwuahahahahaha!" written on it in his handwriting, check. It even had the right amount of "ha"s! It was either an insanely good knockoff or the real deal!
"I can show you my card, too, if you want," Luigi said.
"No, I don't!" Bowser shouted, throwing the card to the ground. Mario picked it up, blew the dust off and pocketed it. "It's obviously a fake! To become part of the troop I have to say you can, and there is no way I let you two join!"
"Uh... but you did."
Bowser growled and narrowed his eyes. "When could I have possibly done that?"
"Um, well, in Mario's case, it was when you two joined to fight, uh, who was it, Smitty?"
"Smithy," Mario corrected.
"Right, right, Smithy. Y-You see, I wouldn't know, because I wasn't there," Luigi explained as he glanced sideways at Mario.
"I was too busy to get you!" Mario protested.
Luigi waved his hand at Mario in a dismissive but playful manner before he continued. "And, uh, well, you kinda chased me and forced me to join when Peach's voice got stolen."
Bowser opened his mouth only to slowly and hesitantly close it as the memories came flowing. He did remember saying that Mario could join the Koopa Troop so that they could get his castle back, and he did go after Luigi to add him to the troop before he learned he was Mario's brother...
Wait a moment. "That was a long time ago! How long have you been going to these meetings?!"
"Uh..." Luigi trailed off, scratching his head as Mario began to wordlessly count off his fingers. Bowser's heart dropped a little when Mario continued on to his second hand and then went back to the first. "L-Let's just go with a while," Luigi interjected, making Mario stop.
"How often have you gone to 'em?!" Bowser asked, his horror rising.
"Oh, we try to attend each month, and sometimes to the surprise meetings, although we can't always because of a plumbing job. And there was one time Mario got sick, and I didn't wanna leave him alone at the house, so I didn't––"
"Sh-Shut it!" Bowser exclaimed, losing his composure. He scanned over the crowd. "Who's the one who cards people?"
A blue stub raised in the air, barely above the Koopa Troopas around it. The crowd split to show the blue Shy Guy raising her hand.
"Why would you let them in?!" he yelled.
She dropped her hand. "I was told to let anyone in who had an official card. Yeah, they're the Mario Bros., and they kinda suck because of that, but their cards are legit."
Bowser was absolutely floored. It would have been one thing had they been sneaking in, but they had been walking in! Leisurely!
Bowser flared his nostrils. "Alright, that's it!" He pointed at the two. "Get them!"
Instead of the pile of Goombas jumping onto them like he had expected, he was instead met with a lot of hesitation and looking at each other. Oh, he could feel a huge anger-induced headache setting in... "What is your problem?!" he asked, utterly exasperated.
"Lord Bowser," a Goomba––wasn't he the one Bowser had stripped of captain rank?––began, "a Koopa Troop member isn't supposed to hurt their fellow minions! But they are the Mario Bros..." Strain was obvious on his face. "I-I've never been so conflicted in all my life!" he exclaimed. The red Shy Guy beside him gently patted his head.
"I'm not conflicted," Private Goomp said. When the two brothers faced him after those words, he took a step back. "And by that I of course mean that I'm also very conflicted."
Bowser growled, holding onto his head and scrunching his eyes shut. Everyone turned to him expectedly, thinking he was about to face the two himself out of sheer frustration. Instead, he stopped growling, let out a long breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. Bowser did not feel like fighting. Junior had woken him up in the middle of the night over a nightmare, so he hadn't slept so well, and soon after the meeting, Bowser was supposed to attend one of Lemmy's performances. If he missed it because he was battling it out with the brothers, then Lemmy would be sad, and nobody liked it when Lemmy was sad. Oh, and there was also that headache throbbing at his temples.
"Just... could you just leave?" Bowser asked.
Luigi frowned, a little upset. "Aw, but what about the goodie bag at the end of the meetings?"
Bowser grunted. "Lakilee!" he barked out. Said Lakitu flew over to him, dropped one of the goodie bags into his outstretched hand and flew off.
He shoved the bag into Luigi's hands. "Now go. Just go! Leave."
The two brothers looked at each other before Mario stood up from his chair and the two began the slow trek out of the auditorium. Bowser watched them go until the big doors shut behind them with a loud creak. The sound made one of the sleeping minions awake with a start, frantically looking about and trying to figure out what was going on.
Bowser heaved out a sigh before he turned and walked back to the stage, feeling too worn out mentally to jump back to the stage. Once he was back to his podium, he spoke slowly into the mike, "Does anybody else have a question?"
No one moved or made a noise.
"Good. Moving on..."
As the two brothers walked down the long hallway with red carpet, Luigi had a frown on his face. Eventually, he asked, "Do you think we shouldn't go to Lemmy's circus act after all of that?"
Mario hummed in thought for a moment. "It would be rude if we didn't go," he surmised. "We told Lemmy we would."
"Yeah, you're right. Hey, do you mind going to the gift shop? We haven't gone there in a while."
Mario smiled. "Let's-a go!" he agreed, following Luigi into the nearby store.
feel whole but i rip at the seams, if i can't get you away from meflowerfemme
author notes: i...don't have an ao3 account anymore and frankly i don't feel like making one right now but i DID angrily write medicore fic about That One Part in ROS and i want to shove it somewhere for catharsis or something i dunno. I'M MAD! I'M BIG MAD! anyway. here we go i guess. if there are any MAJOR mistakes i apologize i tried to edit this as much as i could but fireworks are happening and UGH.
warnings: abuse, trauma, manipulation, reylo bullshit, and--i cannot stress this enough---ROS spoilers
She still had no idea why she went and did that. Relief. Adrenaline. Some weird form of thanks. A million different excuses ran through her mind but each one felt hollow as the last.
The same stream of thoughts went through her head on an endless loop. The worst part was she didn't have anyone to talk about it with. Normally she'd have talked about something like this with Leia, but the general was dead. She was too afraid of anyone else judging her for it. She wouldn't have even blamed them. She was judging herself on a daily basis. She hated herself, really.
So she sat with the guilt and confusion alone in her quarters for the time being. She knew the others had to have noticed she was a bit off, especially Finn now that she knew he was also Force sensitive. Apparently that had been his burning secret he'd wanted to tell her when they thought they were dying.
Sure enough, she could feel Finn's aura outside her room when he knocked. She sighed and debated telling him to leave. That wouldn't help, but she wasn't sure what would at that point. How long was she going to keep the charade up of being fine? Of just being tired? Of just being stressed from the post war politics and rebuilding? To most people, she figured she would've been able to keep it up forever. To her best friend? Not so much.
“Come in.” she ended up saying, her voice wavering. She hoped Finn hadn't noticed, but the man noticed everything about her, it seemed. Sure enough, he was looking at her with such concern and adoration she thought she would burst into tears right then and there. Her eyes darted to the floor as the remorse and shame rose up in her. How could she look him in the eye knowing what she'd done? She bit her lip and clenched her fists, trembling.
Finn sat beside her and didn't say anything. He simply pulled her close and allowed her to curl up on his chest. She couldn't stop the hot tears from rolling down her cheeks when her face hit his shirt. Her whole body shook as she sobbed, the guilt, the rage, the sorrow, and confusion all boiling over in that moment. She briefly felt bad for crying all over his shirt of all things, but he didn't seem to care. She didn't think she could've stopped if he did. He didn't ask questions at first, just rubbed her back in soothing circles.
The dreaded question was eventually asked, though, when she calmed down to the point that she was only sniffling every now and again.
“What's been up since that last day aside from the obvious? The others might not be able to see there's something else, but...I just have a feeling.”
Her blood ran cold. She didn't know what to say, didn't know where to even begin. The words were on the tip of her tongue but she didn't want them to come out, didn't want the judgement or the anger.
This was Finn, though. Kind, caring, fierce, and soft Finn who'd do anything for Rey. Finn who always looked for her after a hard battle. Finn who always made sure she was taking care of herself when she was stressed and would forget to do so. Finn who also had the Force and could maybe grasp the idea of the connection she had with Kylo Ren, then later with Ben. She gulped and looked up at him.
“Promise you won't hate me?” she asked. Her voice was so small, so weak.
Finn's eyes widened. “Rey, you know I could never hate you. Why would you even say that?” he replied, appalled. That was promising, but she knew he wasn't prepared for this. For a few seconds she wasn't sure she'd be able to do it.
It's got to happen eventually, she told herself.
“I had a...connection of sorts with Kylo Ren through the Force.” she started out. She took a peek up at him to test his reaction so far. He didn't seem upset, only interested. He nodded as a cue for her to carry on. “We could talk to each other through it. At first Snoke was the one making it happen. We could never see each other's surroundings, only each other--and we'd talk a lot.”
She felt him tense up at that, but at least he wasn't running. Yet.
“That's why I thought I could turn him the first time around. He wanted to turn me, I wanted to turn him. When I went there and fought with him, we fought so incredibly together, moved together in a way I still can't describe.” She hated how wistfully she described it, but she couldn't help herself. “He was the one to kill Snoke. He offered me his hand after the fight and I--” She gulped down a lump in her throat. “--I wanted to take it. Ben's hand, not Kylo Ren's. But then he went on about how he was going to rule the galaxy now and I could with him on the dark side, and it shattered me.”
Finn wasn't speaking, but he had relaxed a bit. She still couldn't look at him so she continued on.
“After that it didn't happen for a while, but--it started happening again naturally. Like we had some sort of bond through the Force without Snoke, which Palpatine later said was true. Ren told me so much, put so many wild ideas in my head about what I could be, what he could be, what we could be together.” Her heart ached remembering those talks. “And all the while I kept trying to turn him, kept trying to get him to change because I could see there was conflict and light in him and--” Her voice broke and she worried she was going to, again, burst into tears. Finn still hadn't interrupted her, which she appreciated. She realized she couldn't stop now that she'd started. It was all or nothing.
“It ended up working. We fought together and were amazing together. He--he saved my life. And we were so connected, and it felt so wonderful, more wonderful than anything I'd ever felt and I--I didn't know what else to do so I--” She whimpered and held back a cry. “He was holding me and everything felt so right for once and I was so relieved at being alive and Palpatine being dead and everything being over and him turning to the light that I--” Force, I can't say it.
“I kissed him. I kissed him and he died. He died holding me. And I've felt guilty about it since it happened, and what's worse is I miss him. I miss him and I miss our connection and I can't fathom why I miss him so much when he was so horrible, even if he did manage to help in the end.” she said, the tears bubbling over. She shook while Finn continued to comfort her, then took a few steadying breaths to calm herself down. She tried to focus on his calloused hands on her back.
“That's. That's it. That's what's been wrong.” She still wasn't looking at him. She didn't want to know what she'd see. He wasn't running, which was a plus, but she also had no idea how he felt about this. For what felt like an age, he was silent. She tried not to feel anxious about that. She imagined it was a lot of information to take in at once. The longer he didn't speak, though, the more anxious she became that she'd made a horrible mistake in finally opening up about this.
“Well, I definitely don't hate you for that. I can't imagine what that was like, having that kinda guy inside your head and having that weird Force bond or whatever. I don't blame you for being confused about it.” he said at last. A massive weight lifted from her chest and she felt like she could breathe properly.
“I miss some people from my days as a stormtrooper sometimes. They treated me horribly looking back. We all treated each other horribly cause that's what was being drilled into us. That's all we were. At the time, I thought that's what love was when in reality I was being manipulated, lied to, and coereced. None of that was love. It wasn't exactly the same I'm sure, but, ya know...” He became distant and his grip on her tightened. She managed to wrap her head around the gist of what he was saying. To an extent, he understood. He related. It helped too to explain the range of emotions she'd been feeling towards Ben. She was the one trying to soothe some of his anxiety now by rubbing circles with her thumb on his shoulder. While she wasn't glad he'd also gone through such confusion and pain, she was happy she had someone who could even slightly grasp where she was coming from.
“I don't think I loved him either. I don't think he loved me. Not until the end anyway on his part.” she said. At last, she brought herself to look up at him, and was relieved that his gaze was soft rather than full of contempt. Even though he'd said he didn't hate her, it was nice to see the proof on his face, feel it in the air around them. His grip on her loosened and he seemed less anxious.
“It's hard to know what love is supposed to be when you don't have anything to compare it to, or if the only examples you do have are also really bad.” he said with a huff of a bitter laugh. That struck a deep nerve in her. While she'd never been romantic with anyone before being dragged into the war, she'd certainly had her fair share of messed up friendships and partnerships. Finn was the first friend she'd had that actually loved and cared about her as a friend was meant to do.
Force only knew how she would've dealt with a romantic relationship. A sudden question popped into her mind.
“What made you realize it wasn't real love with the others? The ones before?” she asked.
He smiled shyly and bit his lip.
“Poe, honestly. The way he loves me and I love him is so incredible and feels so genuinely good, I can't imagine that anything in the past even came close to it.” he said, wonder in his eyes she couldn't help but smile at.
While Rey was happy for her friends, she couldn't help but feel a deep pang of loneliness for herself. The only “romantic” love she'd ever had wasn't healthy, wasn't even real. Her smile faded and she stared at the ground again. She tried to never get lost in her loneliness. Being alone was natural to her. She was used to it.
Was she really anymore, though? She had friends now and family and that awful yet wonderful bond with Ben. She would've been lying to herself to say it was still natural to feel so alone. Plus, there was a vast difference between being alone and being lonely she'd come to realize. Right then she was so achingly lonely. She felt it down to her bones and she didn't know what to do with it. She'd been feeling it since Ben died and she hated everything about it.
She hated that he'd become so important to her without her even realizing until he left, until she could no longer feel the full effect of that bond. He was still there in the Force, as all things were, but not as strongly. Not in the same way.
“I don't think you two would've ever become anything if it makes you feel any better. If he hadn't died, I mean. You would've never been able to forgive him enough.” he pointed out. He was right. She knew he was right and yet she still felt so empty. Even though she was well aware she'd never forget about the horrors he'd committed, the ways he'd tortured and killed her and the people closest to her, would've never fully been able to trust him, she still felt such emptiness.
“You think I'll ever come to my senses and get over him?” she asked Finn in a whisper. Her friend raised his hand up to run softly through her hair.
“Yeah, I do. You're one of the strongest people I've ever met. You can get through anything. You'll get through this and be better for it. And when you do find the right person for yourself, you'll see how great it's supposed to be.” he assured her and kissed the side of her head. Warmth spread through her whole body at that. She admired his optimism so much and his faith in her. He always thought so highly of her, even when she didn't think anything of herself. She needed that.
He sighed then and took his hand out of her hair. He gently nudged her as a signal to sit up. “Speaking of Poe, he's, uh, gonna be getting back soon and I'd, uh, like to go see him if you're okay. I can totally stay if not, but I uh, I missed him, and well he said we were gonna go on like a, uh, date thing, and I--” He was babbling. It was incredibly adorable.
She cut him off by sitting up and putting a finger over his lips.
“Of course.” she replied and leaned over to give Finn one last hug. “Thank you.” she said with as much love and sincerity she could muster up in just those two words. She didn't know what else she could say.
He hugged her tight as he could for a moment, long enough to assure her that he still loved her more than anything, then pulled away and got serious.
“Any time, and Rey? Don't ever feel afraid to tell me anything. I mean it. Anything. I'll never judge you or hate you. Unless you, like, go full dark side or something. But even then I'd have trouble.” he said and laughed. She rolled her eyes and waved a hand at him.
“Oh, go on your date or whatever with Poe.” she said affectionately. With a bashful grin, he got up and left the room after giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
Her giddiness for him faded as soon as she was completely alone again. The emptiness still clawed at her insides, and she still missed Ben with a fierceness she didn't understand. She wondered if she'd ever fully understand the complexities of her feelings for him. She wondered if she'd ever grow to hate him like she knew she should. Some of the weight involved with keeping the turmoil a secret was lifted, though, and she was comforted by the fact that Finn didn't think less of her for it.
There was still a long road ahead of her, though, of all of them in terms of recovering from the war. None of them would probably ever fully recover. They'd all picked up deep wounds, scars, and parts of them were going to be forever left scattered across the galaxy's battlefields. It was going to be difficult to sort out what could heal and what would simply have to be dealt with for the rest of their lives. If they stuck together, though, and took it one day at a time, she had hope they'd pick up some of the pieces at least. She also was starting to piece together some hope that she'd move past her strange feelings for Ben and leave him, or maybe the idea of what he could've been, in the past.
Popple and Fawful: Fragmentary Eclipse - Chapter 1 - TKitten16 - Super Mario & Related Fandoms [Archive of Our Own]
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Popple & Fawful: Fragmentary Eclipse
hey i posted the first part of my NaNoWriMo fanfic thing i did this year, this is my first time ever fully doing this so i apologize for the clunky-ness of it.
imma post the next part of the prologue later, once i made some more progress with chapter 1 because i want a small backlog/it needs to be edited more than those two.
(but that kinda comes from the territory of making things as you go along i guess heck)