Luke Skywalker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
neverjoinyou) wrote2026-04-05 02:51 pm
neverjoinyou) wrote2026-04-05 02:51 pm
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lastvoyages IC Inbox
I found someone with the Force today. I just listened for him and I was able to find him in a forest.
[And she's really, really proud of herself and you're such a good teacher Luke.]
[And she's really, really proud of herself and you're such a good teacher Luke.]
Was it someone you knew? Were you looking for him?
[After the Admiral announcement, there will be a package sitting outside your door.
In it, there are five packages of rations and two metal canisters of water, along with a handwritten note.]
One of these packets is one meal, to be eaten once a day. That's five days, if the food dries up. The green pieces are a replacement protein that's better cooked, but you can eat it uncooked. The powder is mixed with water, it becomes bread. Use a third of the water in the canister for each serving of bread, just mix the powder in and stir it a little and it does the rest.
The Admiral suggests keeping people we care about close. I don't have many. It won't be crowded. If it's clear things are going to be terrible, please come here or find Han and stay in his Falcon.
I have more rations, my version of the Falcon came stocked with enough food to last in space if something happened to the ship, but not enough for the entire barge. If there is someone you cannot bear to see suffer I can give you a share for them, but please think carefully about who that person is.
I've already given the same package to Han.
Rey.
In it, there are five packages of rations and two metal canisters of water, along with a handwritten note.]
One of these packets is one meal, to be eaten once a day. That's five days, if the food dries up. The green pieces are a replacement protein that's better cooked, but you can eat it uncooked. The powder is mixed with water, it becomes bread. Use a third of the water in the canister for each serving of bread, just mix the powder in and stir it a little and it does the rest.
The Admiral suggests keeping people we care about close. I don't have many. It won't be crowded. If it's clear things are going to be terrible, please come here or find Han and stay in his Falcon.
I have more rations, my version of the Falcon came stocked with enough food to last in space if something happened to the ship, but not enough for the entire barge. If there is someone you cannot bear to see suffer I can give you a share for them, but please think carefully about who that person is.
I've already given the same package to Han.
Rey.
Rey, that was... really thoughtful.
[Luke still doesn't know what to do with this whole thing, but he knows this must be hard for Rey. She's never said as much, but he knows, from bits and pieces, that she's gone without.]
What can I do for you?
[Luke still doesn't know what to do with this whole thing, but he knows this must be hard for Rey. She's never said as much, but he knows, from bits and pieces, that she's gone without.]
What can I do for you?
Hey, Luke. Alfie Solomons is your temporary inmate right? I had a drink with him in the pub the other day and it sounded like he's gonna actively try to sabotage the ship's engines. Just an FYI.
Edited 2016-04-20 20:57 (UTC)
Alfie is going to stay with me if things go badly. I gave him the same package and note I gave you and Han, and he came to visit after. I realized I didn't know if he would tell you, but he's your inmate so I thought you should know he'll be safe.
Thank you. Can I... may I come over and talk to him? I'd actually like to talk to you too, if that's okay.
[She doesn't really want to do this, but the alternative makes her feel a little sick to her stomach, so not long after her conversation with Han Rey reaches for her communicator and gets ready to do the whole thing over again.
She expects she might lose Luke, now. That he won't be able to forgive her, to ever see her as anything other than a woman who was fine with brutality for the sake of revenge, but all she can do is tell her side and hope.
She's never been that good at hope.]
Before you hear it from anyone else, or before you start believing things that aren't true, I want you to hear this from me.
I attacked Bull. I did it when he wasn't looking and he had no idea it was coming, and I only hit him as many times as it took to get him to stay down. After he did, I told him if he ever went after Han again, I wouldn't stop.
That was a lie. I didn't kill him and I didn't want him dead. I'm not sorry he is now after everything he's done to more than just Han, but I didn't kill him.
I wanted to. The dark side made me want to, but I didn't. I walked away, just like I did with Kylo Ren.
I'm sorry I disappointed you because I know you must be unhappy with me, but I'm not sorry I did it.
She expects she might lose Luke, now. That he won't be able to forgive her, to ever see her as anything other than a woman who was fine with brutality for the sake of revenge, but all she can do is tell her side and hope.
She's never been that good at hope.]
Before you hear it from anyone else, or before you start believing things that aren't true, I want you to hear this from me.
I attacked Bull. I did it when he wasn't looking and he had no idea it was coming, and I only hit him as many times as it took to get him to stay down. After he did, I told him if he ever went after Han again, I wouldn't stop.
That was a lie. I didn't kill him and I didn't want him dead. I'm not sorry he is now after everything he's done to more than just Han, but I didn't kill him.
I wanted to. The dark side made me want to, but I didn't. I walked away, just like I did with Kylo Ren.
I'm sorry I disappointed you because I know you must be unhappy with me, but I'm not sorry I did it.
[Oh, Rey. For a long moment, for actually many minutes together, Luke just sits, reading it over and over. Eventually, he leans back, eyes closing, to try to work his way through all of his emotions before sending a reply.
There are a lot of them.
Disappointment, yes. Fear--for Rey, for the future. Self-doubt, that all he touches seems to end in revenge. Anger, yes, at the universe for making revenge so very, very attractive so very, very often. A little pride, that Rey had taken the Qunari down, and then shame at that pride.
Gratitude, that Rey had stopped. Confusion, that Bull had died anyway.
Helplessness to know what to do next. All he can do, he thinks, is reply honestly, and from a place of as much calm as he can muster.]
Rey. I'm not good at writing things down, so I hope you'll understand what I'm trying to say.
First of all, thank you for telling me. I know that took a lot of courage, knowing what I'm sure you think I must be thinking. I will not lie to you. I am disappointed, because I've seen enough to think violence and revenge are seldom the answer. I'm unhappy that you're not sorry, because every act of violence feeds on the next, and I can't see the future or where this goes. Not now, anyway.
But I'm not going to judge you for giving in to something I've struggled with, too. And I'm not going to judge you when I've forgiven my father, and Ben, and even, to some extent, Bull. You acted to protect what is precious to you. I don't agree with the outcome but it's not because I don't understand. Han is precious to me too. His death hurt and angered me, too.
Can you understand that, at least? That I understand, even if I don't think it was right?
There are a lot of them.
Disappointment, yes. Fear--for Rey, for the future. Self-doubt, that all he touches seems to end in revenge. Anger, yes, at the universe for making revenge so very, very attractive so very, very often. A little pride, that Rey had taken the Qunari down, and then shame at that pride.
Gratitude, that Rey had stopped. Confusion, that Bull had died anyway.
Helplessness to know what to do next. All he can do, he thinks, is reply honestly, and from a place of as much calm as he can muster.]
Rey. I'm not good at writing things down, so I hope you'll understand what I'm trying to say.
First of all, thank you for telling me. I know that took a lot of courage, knowing what I'm sure you think I must be thinking. I will not lie to you. I am disappointed, because I've seen enough to think violence and revenge are seldom the answer. I'm unhappy that you're not sorry, because every act of violence feeds on the next, and I can't see the future or where this goes. Not now, anyway.
But I'm not going to judge you for giving in to something I've struggled with, too. And I'm not going to judge you when I've forgiven my father, and Ben, and even, to some extent, Bull. You acted to protect what is precious to you. I don't agree with the outcome but it's not because I don't understand. Han is precious to me too. His death hurt and angered me, too.
Can you understand that, at least? That I understand, even if I don't think it was right?
He admitted it? Did he give a reason? I don't mean for Tarkin--I mean why he did it.
[He'd agreed, but knowing it's the case... Luke's blood boils for a moment and it takes slightly too long to calm himself back down.]
[He'd agreed, but knowing it's the case... Luke's blood boils for a moment and it takes slightly too long to calm himself back down.]
[There's been a lot going on the last few days, and Rey knows it's probably too much, all things considered. She also knows she needs to be better about keeping up with people she cares about, to force herself into the habit of checking in on them, so here she goes.]
I'm here for you if you need to talk.
I'm here for you if you need to talk.
[This means a lot to him. You have no idea, Rey. Unless you're checking in via the Force, and then you might.]
I don't know what I'd say. Where would I start.
I don't know what I'd say. Where would I start.
ahhh omg I totally missed this because I was looking at my [tlv] tag
neverjoinyou
2017-01-25 03:52 am (UTC)(link)
I was gonna call you.
I can't feel her.
I can't feel her.
LUKE. BUDDY. I CAN'T DO THIS ANY MORE, I'M GOING TO KILL SOMEBODY.
[Bill sounds drunk, and his usual cheery voice is meandering around like a cart with a missing wheel.]
I HATE THIS PLACE! I HATE EVERYONE THAT LIVES HERE. IF YOU WANT ME TO KEEP BEHAVING I HAVE SOME GREAT PLAAAA~NS...
[Bill sounds drunk, and his usual cheery voice is meandering around like a cart with a missing wheel.]
I HATE THIS PLACE! I HATE EVERYONE THAT LIVES HERE. IF YOU WANT ME TO KEEP BEHAVING I HAVE SOME GREAT PLAAAA~NS...
[Luke isn't sure if it's this exact thing he's been dreading, but it soon feels inevitable that Bill would finally break and Luke would be forced to learn on the job.
Nothing about this feels good--except, he realizes suddenly, the fact that Bill is calling him.]
Who do you want to kill, Bill? Can we talk about that?
[Where is he? Luke strains to hear anything that will give him a clue.]
So, uh, Bill tells me he has plastic explosives?
This seems like a bad thing.
This seems like a bad thing.
What?
He told you this. Any idea what he plans to do with them, if it's true?
He told you this. Any idea what he plans to do with them, if it's true?
I won't. It might help me to know why, at least a little. As in, are we talking information about your whereabouts? Or whether I even know you?
[You know what? forget dancing around and waiting for the other boot to drop. Hux knows Luke Skywalker is here. Instead of waiting around to run into him casually, he straight up contacts him over the network, pinging him]
Are you Luke Skywalker?
Are you Luke Skywalker?
[Voice] - shh pretend this was private the whole time
worstweasley
- 2018-04-20 21:27 (UTC) - ExpandSure.
What's going on? Do I need to come fine you?
What's going on? Do I need to come fine you?
text (yo it's all good <3 as much of this as you like can get handwaved)
mothmansplaining
- 2018-05-11 02:53 (UTC) - ExpandLeia's here?
You're not doing anything to her, are you?
You're not doing anything to her, are you?
I KNOW YOU HELPED IMPRISON THE OTHER BILL GUY, BUT WE GOT BIGGER FISH TO FRY. AND BY FISH I MEAN RATS, BECAUSE I SMELL ONE.
I'M NOT GOING. HE'S TRYING NOT TO GET FIRED, AND I'M NOT GONNA BE A PART OF IT.
THERE'S ANOTHER SHIP. YOUR SISTER'S THERE, COME WITH ME.
I'M NOT GOING. HE'S TRYING NOT TO GET FIRED, AND I'M NOT GONNA BE A PART OF IT.
THERE'S ANOTHER SHIP. YOUR SISTER'S THERE, COME WITH ME.
Re: end of may. i know we have two inbox threads going already but this should be brief
neverjoinyou
2018-05-29 11:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Yes.
Who did it?
Who did it?
[To his credit, Luke merely shuts his eyes momentarily to recover from his start, and finishes pulling on his shirt. Privacy is not anywhere near the top of the list of things he'd like Bill to try to understand. Still, he's somewhat glad he'd managed the underwear after his shower, before Bill showed up.]
I already know 'gullible' isn't written on the ceiling.
I already know 'gullible' isn't written on the ceiling.
Tread Softly event, dreamed on January 19th, Barge-time
mothmansplaining
2019-01-20 01:29 am (UTC)(link)
You're in a cavernous underground room. You understand that it is the basement of your lab in Oregon, even though when you wake up you will realize that your basement looked different.
Near the wall is an enormous inert machine. It is a great big ring thirty feet across, propped up vertically by a supporting stand, but it's unfinished: its wiring is still exposed. You're getting close, though, you know it. You stand before it, looking at your work, and your six-fingered hand strokes your chin -- clean-shaven.
Then, a seamless change occurs. You don't know when the walls stopped being stone, but they're gone now: the space stretches out into a star-field, like being inside the night sky. The larger objects in the room transform into shapes rendered in blue criss-crossed lines, and vanish; the small ones simply float in the air. Pens, paper, journals, a tea set, a tape player, chess pieces. The portal remains, suspended in the air, but the parts that are incomplete are filled in, outlined in those same blue grid-lines, like a model or a hologram. It's going to be so impressive when it's finished.
"SURE IT IS! AFTER ALL, YOU AND I MADE IT! RIGHT, PAL?"
You feel yourself smile. It's him.
"Hello, Bill," you say, and your voice is deep -- of course it is, it has been since it broke. You're thrilled he's here: you're always eager for him to visit. (Are you? You feel like you've had some bad dreams about him, but they feel fuzzy and far away.) The usual warmth breaks over your mind like rays of sunlight, and you let it. You have nothing to hide, not from him. You're partners. He is a being of infinite knowledge, older than you can imagine, and he picked you. He makes you, a freak, feel extraordinary. Together, you're going to change the world.
(Wait. Something about that feels off. Why, when you think about changing the world, do flashes of smoke and destruction rise in your mind?)
He puts a small black hand on your shoulder, and your half-formed doubts disappear. It's extended to rest on your opposite shoulder -- his arm is around your back. You try not to think about it. "THAT'S RIGHT! THE SCIENTIFIC COMMUNITY WON'T KNOW WHAT HIT 'EM."
You know. You have dreams. You're going to rub elbows with scientific leaders, politicians, celebrities, childhood idols. You're going to know why the world is so weird, and you're going to show everyone the truth. You'll be....maybe not a hero, but a scientific pioneer. A Prometheus.
Bill hands you a blocky, very heavy laptop that says PROPERTY OF F across the top. "THIS IS WHERE THE ANSWERS ARE." On the screen is a rotating shadow of a four-dimensional shape, what might be an extrapolation of a sphere. Information about it seeps from Bill's mind into yours, without him having to tell you: it is a weird and wild place where anything is possible, where mind controls matter, where everything came from.
"DON'T YOU WANT TO KNOW?"
Of course you do. This is important. This project is going to change your life. You feel a little bit unaccountably sad. You feel like you're going to lose something, someone, if you go through with this. But Bill is here with you, shining into your mind, always a reflective surface of cheer and determination and relentless energy. You can't see any deeper into his mind, and you feel it might be rude to try. You are happy to let him look at yours: if he is a mirror, you are a window, letting the light in. He's still holding your shoulder. You can feel the warmth through your shirt. You hope he didn't see you noticing. The dream fades out. The last things to disappear are the sensation of touch and the rotating image on the laptop, and then it's gone.
Near the wall is an enormous inert machine. It is a great big ring thirty feet across, propped up vertically by a supporting stand, but it's unfinished: its wiring is still exposed. You're getting close, though, you know it. You stand before it, looking at your work, and your six-fingered hand strokes your chin -- clean-shaven.
Then, a seamless change occurs. You don't know when the walls stopped being stone, but they're gone now: the space stretches out into a star-field, like being inside the night sky. The larger objects in the room transform into shapes rendered in blue criss-crossed lines, and vanish; the small ones simply float in the air. Pens, paper, journals, a tea set, a tape player, chess pieces. The portal remains, suspended in the air, but the parts that are incomplete are filled in, outlined in those same blue grid-lines, like a model or a hologram. It's going to be so impressive when it's finished.
"SURE IT IS! AFTER ALL, YOU AND I MADE IT! RIGHT, PAL?"
You feel yourself smile. It's him.
"Hello, Bill," you say, and your voice is deep -- of course it is, it has been since it broke. You're thrilled he's here: you're always eager for him to visit. (Are you? You feel like you've had some bad dreams about him, but they feel fuzzy and far away.) The usual warmth breaks over your mind like rays of sunlight, and you let it. You have nothing to hide, not from him. You're partners. He is a being of infinite knowledge, older than you can imagine, and he picked you. He makes you, a freak, feel extraordinary. Together, you're going to change the world.
(Wait. Something about that feels off. Why, when you think about changing the world, do flashes of smoke and destruction rise in your mind?)
He puts a small black hand on your shoulder, and your half-formed doubts disappear. It's extended to rest on your opposite shoulder -- his arm is around your back. You try not to think about it. "THAT'S RIGHT! THE SCIENTIFIC COMMUNITY WON'T KNOW WHAT HIT 'EM."
You know. You have dreams. You're going to rub elbows with scientific leaders, politicians, celebrities, childhood idols. You're going to know why the world is so weird, and you're going to show everyone the truth. You'll be....maybe not a hero, but a scientific pioneer. A Prometheus.
Bill hands you a blocky, very heavy laptop that says PROPERTY OF F across the top. "THIS IS WHERE THE ANSWERS ARE." On the screen is a rotating shadow of a four-dimensional shape, what might be an extrapolation of a sphere. Information about it seeps from Bill's mind into yours, without him having to tell you: it is a weird and wild place where anything is possible, where mind controls matter, where everything came from.
"DON'T YOU WANT TO KNOW?"
Of course you do. This is important. This project is going to change your life. You feel a little bit unaccountably sad. You feel like you're going to lose something, someone, if you go through with this. But Bill is here with you, shining into your mind, always a reflective surface of cheer and determination and relentless energy. You can't see any deeper into his mind, and you feel it might be rude to try. You are happy to let him look at yours: if he is a mirror, you are a window, letting the light in. He's still holding your shoulder. You can feel the warmth through your shirt. You hope he didn't see you noticing. The dream fades out. The last things to disappear are the sensation of touch and the rotating image on the laptop, and then it's gone.
[Luke awakes in the middle of the night, disoriented, partly because it takes him awhile to realize it's not his dream. He knows Bill, after all, could very well have dreamed about him himself, so in his hazy mind he wonders briefly if there's something he's forgotten, something he needs to address about their relationship.
But though some details fade, others come into focus, and Luke realizes it's Ford. And he feels a pang of borrowed betrayal. And mostly, sadness. For both of them.
But waits until morning to make the call, scrubs his eyes free from sleep and tries to hail Ford. He offers a slight, reassuring smile but doesn't beat around the bush.]
Ford. Hey. I think I ... borrowed one of your dreams, last night. I wanted to let you know that.
But though some details fade, others come into focus, and Luke realizes it's Ford. And he feels a pang of borrowed betrayal. And mostly, sadness. For both of them.
But waits until morning to make the call, scrubs his eyes free from sleep and tries to hail Ford. He offers a slight, reassuring smile but doesn't beat around the bush.]
Ford. Hey. I think I ... borrowed one of your dreams, last night. I wanted to let you know that.
I don't care, just make sure you tell me which is which.
[Luke's long been used to being awake and aware at a moment's notice, so he's there in less than a minute, pulling on a jacket with pockets. His lightsaber swings from his belt. His expression is tight, but, he notes--none of them are in Zero.]
Yeah?
Yeah?
After the Spellmans' announcement and the spell breaks; voice
mothmansplaining
2019-03-29 06:21 pm (UTC)(link)
What's happening out there? Do you have him?
[A few minutes later.]
Luke?
[Another few minutes.]
Damn it, kid, answer me, we're running out of time!
[A few minutes later.]
Luke?
[Another few minutes.]
Damn it, kid, answer me, we're running out of time!
Luke is alive, desperately trying to protect Bill from Erskine -
And then he's in a place, soft and vague and rhythmic, like standing in ocean shallows, waves lapping at his knees. (Or he's in an office, with a cat rubbing against him, purring. Or he's perched in a tree that sways in the wind. Or - Luke being Luke - perhaps its a desert, with drifting dunes and swirling dust. The exact image doesn't quite settle. It isn't important.) There's a defuse light, that comes to a sharp edge of a glare that makes it impossible to see the face of the figure in front of him, although the silhouette of the hat and the crisp voice are familiar.
"Well, Mister Skywalker. What am I going to do with you?"
And then he's in a place, soft and vague and rhythmic, like standing in ocean shallows, waves lapping at his knees. (Or he's in an office, with a cat rubbing against him, purring. Or he's perched in a tree that sways in the wind. Or - Luke being Luke - perhaps its a desert, with drifting dunes and swirling dust. The exact image doesn't quite settle. It isn't important.) There's a defuse light, that comes to a sharp edge of a glare that makes it impossible to see the face of the figure in front of him, although the silhouette of the hat and the crisp voice are familiar.
"Well, Mister Skywalker. What am I going to do with you?"
Luke squints against the light and the changing landscape, trying to focus after the disorientation. Trying to parse why he's being asked this question, here, and where here is, and why he's not--
Oh.
He's oddly calm, all things considered. But that doesn't mean he's content.
"I suppose," he says slowly, lowering the hand that's doing nothing to shield his vision or clarify the figure, "that's up to you. I take it Erskine's plan worked." He frowns. "Where's Bill? Did he survive?"
If he did, then maybe, just maybe, all this will have been worth something. He's not sure what, yet.
Oh.
He's oddly calm, all things considered. But that doesn't mean he's content.
"I suppose," he says slowly, lowering the hand that's doing nothing to shield his vision or clarify the figure, "that's up to you. I take it Erskine's plan worked." He frowns. "Where's Bill? Did he survive?"
If he did, then maybe, just maybe, all this will have been worth something. He's not sure what, yet.
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