Ooooo he in trouble nooooowwwwww
Comic from Doodbog.tumblr
Get him Leia!
leia organa
Guys. GUYS. Can we talk about how Poe’s idol CANONICALLY is Leia? Like, I think Poe has too much self-awareness as an irreverent shithead to ever scribble Mr. General Leia Organa all over his schoolbooks but I will bet you every last cent I have that there was a time in Poe’s adolescence when he had these super-intense heroic fantasies about taking down an entire fleet of Star Destroyers at Leia’s command and, like, dying in her arms or something.
Of course by the time TFA rolls around, he has long let go of the dream of General Organa touching his hair and telling him that was the best Skywalker Swoop she’d ever seen – because lbr that’s not a fantasy that will survive Leia’s withering stare – but he was probably 200% more thrilled than he ought to be at being sent on a mission to Jakku.
… I really want a fic of Poe getting into fights as a kid over arguments on who was the best Rebel Alliance hero with his father sighing in the background and going, well I guess falling for badass women runs in the family.
(Also at a meta level I just find it really awesome that Poe Dameron as a character could’ve easily been conceptualised as idolising Wedge Antilles or Luke Skywalker, but nope, it’s Leia Organa.)
It’s rather chilling to consider that one of the most indelible images in the Star Wars saga is its heroine silenced, stripped down, and in chains. I know a lot of men have positive feelings about this particular costume — in fact there’s an entire episode of the popular sitcom Friends that’s devoted to it — which is why it’s kind of hilariously ironic that Han Solo was blind during these scenes. That is, the one man who is romantically attached to Leia is the one man who never saw her in the golden bikini. Which means Han Solo is more attracted to a mouthy space age shield maiden than he is to a tight female body on display. In fact, if I could be so bold, I would suggest that Han Solo would be more turned on hearing about how Leia strangled Jabba the Hutt to death — using nothing but the chain that enslaved her — than he would be hearing about how his sworn enemy turned the woman he loved into a tawdry plaything.
Okay so I’m not entirely sure why it just struck me so hard, but after seeing siths-pretentious‘s most recent art (with Bail and Leia and Vader), I very suddenly (and very horribly) realized just how absolutely terrifying it would have been for Bail to raise Leia.
Here is this little girl, innocent and bright and kind and loving, and yet he knows better than almost anyone in the entire galaxy the potential for darkness that she has–the poison in her blood that, with only one wrong move on his part (or hers)–one misstep, one accident–could devour her and the galaxy both. (And he can probably see it, sometimes–see the anger flashing in her eyes, hear the fire in her words, feel the power in her presence–and he knows what lurks beneath, what coiling serpents of temptation bite at her heels, even if she herself does not (cannot) understand them.)
But even more, Bail (and Breha, and even all of Alderaan) were living on a knife’s edge. One wrong move, one misstep, one accident, and everything would come unraveled. Bail Organa would have known full well the consequences if it was ever discovered that he had harbored and kept hidden a child of Anakin Skywalker–or, at least, he would know full well that the consequences would almost certainly be agonizing, and most definitely fatal. And not only for him, but for his wife as well, and for his planet (because that would be all the excuse the Empire would need to remove the Royal Family and institute Imperial rule on Alderaan). And as for Leia, were that to ever happen…
Yet Bail takes her without hesitation, saying, “She will be loved with us.” And she is. She is loved, and she is cherished; she is Bail’s daughter in every regard but blood. And I don’t think he ever regretted that choice.
Bail Organa was a man who danced with demons. He danced with demons, and paid homage to their dark lord, but all the while held close a secret that would prove the damnation of one or the other–himself, if the secret was discovered; the dark lord on his dark throne, if all he hoped for came to fruition. (And yet, that was not why he skirted torment and death–he did so for the child he protected; for the little girl he loved; for his daughter.)
It was finally Solo—of all people—who opened his mouth to speak for the group. For the Alliance.
“Tell [the Ewoks] this, Goldenrod—’ he smiled at [C-3PO], with conscious affection for the first time. ‘Tell them it’s hard to translate a rebellion, so maybe a translator shouldn’t tell the story. So I’ll tell ‘em.
“They shouldn’t help us ’cause we’re asking ’em to. They shouldn’t even help us ’cause it’s in their own interest to—even though it is, you know—just for one example, the Empire’s tappin’ a lot of energy out of this moon to generate its deflector shield, and that’s a lot of energy you guys are gonna be without come winter, and I mean you’re gonna be hurtin’…but never mind that. Tell ‘em. Threepio.”
Threepio told them. Han went on.
“But that’s not why they should help us. That’s why I used to do stuff, because it was in my interest. But not anymore. Well, not so much, anyway. Mostly I do things for my friends, now—’cause what else is so important? Money? Power? Jabba had that, and you know what happened to him. Okay, okay, the point is
— your friends are…your friends. You know?”
This was one of the most inarticulate pleas Leia had ever heard, but it made her eyes fill with tears.
— Return of the Jedi, Chapter VI
He put his hands on her shoulders, and thirty years fell away in an instant. “Leia, there’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you for a long time.” Fighting to hold back tears, she put a finger to his lips. “Tell me when you get back.” He started to object, caught himself. There’d been too much arguing over the years, he knew.
This time he really might not come back; the last thing he wanted was to part on even a semblance of a spat. Instead, he took her into his arms, which really was much better than arguing, or even talking. They stood like that for a long moment, holding tightly to each other.
The Force Awakens (novel) by Alan Dean Foster
