“An exciting change for the greatest pilot in the Resistance,” the General tells him, “I would hope that we have a more successful trip than last time.” “I would argue that my last mission was very successful, ma’am.” In more ways than she knows. It’s early enough that Finn is still pretending to be asleep, and Rey is curled next to him, a tiny lump in the pile of blankets. (a sequel to room of heartbeats)

Leia glided closer, brushing Luke’s hair out of his face, then leaning in. “Both of us,” she whispered, and then kissed him firmly. Han could feel Luke let go of all the tension in his body all at once. If he had stopped holding him up, Luke would have simply dropped to the floor.

Boba Fett likes to be in control. Din Djarin feels more out of control with every passing day. Giving control over to Boba would make both of them happy. Din just doesn't understand why that has to be so complicated. (Or, rebuilding an entire culture is hard. Boba helps, more or less.)

Jango Fett makes a comeback as Mand’alor during the Mandalorian Civil Wars by reviving an archaic tradition – rescuing an enemy in battle in order to wed them into one’s clan. Such was often, in the past, how the ending of feuds began. So he rescues Lady Satine Kryze and her Jedi Protector, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi. As for marrying them into his clan – well. Clan Fett is a Clan of exactly one, at the moment. He’s thought this through. Really. Not getting more than he bargained for with two catty and lovesick teenaged revolutionaries at all. It’s fine. Things are fine. He is completely in control. (Is he, though?)

It all comes down to this: the babies in his arms are just so little. “You should sit down, Sir. Let Waxer and I take the tubies for a minute,” Cody gentles. Despite the even, easy tone, despite knowing that it’s Cody and that, as the last twenty-four hours have successfully proved beyond a doubt, Cody would rather die than see any harm come to him, Obi-Wan can’t suppress his immediate reaction to the thought of putting the twins— his twins, his now, and he’ll die before he lets anything touch them—down. “Full disclosure, I don’t believe I am capable of letting go of them, at the moment.” He thinks for a beat and then adds, “Possibly ever.”

“It’s incredible how few people expect that sort of thing,” Granta says lightly. “They're so used to identifying people by their dæmons. Change the dæmon, and they expect a different person entirely.” “Yeah,” Fox says, bland. “Because a dæmon’s supposed to be your soul. The fact that your soul is wrong is your own problem.”