hope you enjoyed my “Kylo does shit that makes Hux leave the FO” mini series :)
YOU ARE THE REASON
almost home

No title available
NASA

roma★
taylor price
occasionally subtle
RMH
Peter Solarz
i don't do bad sauce passes
d e v o n

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Not today Justin
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hello vonnie
tumblr dot com
trying on a metaphor

Kaledo Art

oozey mess
styofa doing anything

seen from Netherlands

seen from Malaysia
seen from Brazil

seen from Germany

seen from Germany
seen from Germany

seen from Malaysia
seen from Canada

seen from India

seen from Venezuela
seen from United States
seen from Germany

seen from Ukraine
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Brazil
seen from Belgium
seen from Türkiye
@artemisdart
hope you enjoyed my “Kylo does shit that makes Hux leave the FO” mini series :)
GP Week 2026 Roundup
Here are the entries for Gingerpilot Week 2026! We loved all the creativity on display in each and every one of these pieces. And it's not too late -- Gingerpilot Week can last all year round, so feel free to keep creating. Please tag us so we can add you to the list!
This year's theme:
The Sea
Full list under the cut:
A late entry for GingerPilot Week 2026, day 1: merfolk.
Millicent is a sea slug, sorry, nudibranch, because of @artemisdart's fic "Life in Captivity". And BB-8 is a pufferfish, for no special reason ^^.
Mixed media: copics and fineliner, and watercolour background.
the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be apart of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
The final day of Gingerpilot Week!
Prompt: 🐌 Sea Creatures 🐌
https://archiveofourown.org/works/85836506
Rated: Teen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 8,424
After the war, Hux and Poe are living together, and Hux is more depressed than he can face directly. But after Poe brings him a surprise gift, Hux might find a new reason for living.
The penultimate day of Gingerpilot Week!
Prompt: 🚢 Ships 🚢
https://archiveofourown.org/works/85546701
Rated: Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 2,242
Poe thinks he and the new defector, Armitage Hux, have been having a low-stakes sexual 'thing.'
He realizes that Hux sees it quite differently.
****
This fic was inspired by this post by @not-so-allegiant-general https://www.tumblr.com/not-so-allegiant-general/817210460830089216/i-need-poe-realizing-that-huxs-wide-eyed-stare?source=share
The red gloves from Frankenstein (2025) permanently altered my brain chemistry, and now these two must suffer the consequences
Day 5 of Gingerpilot Week is my first time writing a story that's not told in chronological order. Eeek!
Prompt: ⛈️ Storms ⛈️
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Rated: G | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 9,773
Poe, in disgrace after Crait, ditches his low-level supply run to kidnap First Order General Armitage Hux.
But then a storm intervenes, stranding the two of them in deep space. As food, water, heat, and air on board dwindle and they inch towards death, the two enemies pass the time with a deck of question cards.
She got the idea for the study while walking with her advisor at Stanford to discuss her thesis topic, and the paper she eventually published in the Journal of Experimental Psychology in 2014 is sharp enough that it should have ended the seated meeting on the day it came out.
She ran 4 experiments on 176 people. Same person tested twice. Once sitting, once walking. The creativity tasks were the standard ones psychologists have used for decades to measure how good a brain is at generating novel useful ideas.
81% of participants in the first experiment produced more creative ideas while walking than while sitting. In the second experiment, 88%. In the third, 100%. Every single person walked into a more creative version of themselves. On average, people generated 60% more novel useful ideas the moment their legs started moving.
The skeptical question is the obvious one. Maybe it was the fresh air. Maybe it was the scenery passing by. Maybe it was the change of environment doing the work, not the walking itself.
Oppezzo killed every one of those explanations with one experimental decision. She put people on a treadmill facing a blank wall. No scenery. No fresh air. No environmental change. Just legs moving in place while staring at white drywall. The 60% boost held.
Then she ran the experiment that closed the case completely. She took participants outside in two conditions. Half of them walked through a Stanford courtyard. The other half were pushed through the exact same courtyard in a wheelchair. Same outdoor stimulation. Same scenery passing at the same speed. The only difference was whether the legs were moving.
The walkers produced dramatically more novel high-quality ideas than the wheelchair group. The outdoors did almost nothing on its own. The walking did everything.
She also tested the opposite kind of thinking. Convergent thinking. The kind where there is one right answer and you have to narrow down to it. Word puzzles where 3 words share a hidden fourth word that connects them. The seated participants did slightly better on these. Walkers got slightly worse.
Walking is not a general intelligence enhancer. It does one specific thing. It opens up the divergent search inside your brain. The part that generates options. The part that produces unexpected connections. The part that takes a problem and finds five ways into it instead of one.
When you need to converge on the single right answer, sit down. When you need to find the answer in the first place, get up.
The mechanism is now well understood. Walking selectively activates what neuroscientists call the default mode network, the system inside your brain that runs when you are not consciously focused on anything. The DMN is where mind-wandering happens. Where memories cross-reference each other. Where ideas that have been sitting in separate folders inside your head finally bump into each other.
When you sit at a desk and force yourself to concentrate, you suppress the DMN. When you walk at a natural pace, the executive part of your brain gets just busy enough handling the walking that the DMN comes online and starts doing the work that focus was blocking.
The most useful finding in the entire paper is the one almost nobody quotes. The boost did not turn off the moment people stopped walking. Participants who walked first and then sat back down stayed elevated. Their next round of seated creativity work was still significantly better than people who had been sitting the whole time. The rest lingered for at least several minutes after the legs stopped moving.
You do not need to do creative work while walking. You need to walk before the creative work. The brain holds the state.
Edited down a long tweet. (x)
Gingerpilot Week Day 4!
Prompt: 🐙 Tentacles 🐙
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Rating: Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,759
As of right now, the number of works in the Gingerpilot tag is "leet"!
Day 3 of Gingerpilot Week 2026!
Prompt: 🪸 Beach, Sand, Coral Reef 🪸
https://archiveofourown.org/works/85187016
Rating: G | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 6,744
Armitage's father, Brendol, insists that he undergo a fate worse than death — learning to drive a jetski, out on the open water of the Indian Ocean. He knows about Armitage's irrational fear of water, and has decided to subject him to a concentrated dose, perhaps 'to make a man out of him.'
But Armitage might not panic quite so much, if he can learn from a handsome resort attendant named Poe.
Day 2 of Gingerpilot Week!
Prompt: 🏊 Swimming 🏊
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 5,140
Poe needs a tutor in trigonometry. Armitage needs something that can credibly be called 'volunteer work' for his college essays.
Both of them might need a little bit more than just that.
@gingerpilotbay
GINGERPILOT WEEK, DAY 1 - MERFOLK
Poe Dameron sat alone at a large round table littered with half-empty flutes and plates stained with icing and crumbs. The laughter and music of couples in love surrounded and suffocated him.
Ben danced with his bride, Rey. Finn swayed with his girlfriend, Rose. Even Ben's ancient Uncle Chewie and Aunt Maz took a turn around the floor, defying their ages.
Han and Leia, Kaydel and Jannah, Snap and Jessika, Luke and Din. Everybody under the tent overlooking the oceanfront had somebody, except Poe.
Poe had a table full of champagne glasses, abandoned when the DJ called out all the couples to dance.
He picked three at random, drained them, and stood.
"If anybody asks, I'm getting some air," he told a server in passing. Nobody would ask, of course. This night wasn't about him, and had Ben not asked Poe to be his best man he'd have avoided it altogether.
The restaurant hosting the reception opened out to a narrow fishing dock ending several yards into the sea. It was closed to the public tonight because of the wedding, but Poe saw no harm in walking out to admire the view. Slow steps in tight dress shoes brought him to calm, dark waters layered in waving moonlight. The view stretched out forever, with only two lampposts on either side of the dock to guide his vision.
He saw sharp shadows in the distance and guessed dolphins. Even they traveled in pairs.
"Everybody's got somebody," Poe said, and sighed. Sitting on the edge of the dock, he swung his feet and grazed one patent leather toe across the water's surface. Yeah, forget about losing this borrowed pair of Louboutins in the event of a shoelace mishap.
He removed the shoes and socks, set them aside, and felt the insides of his suit coat pockets for Ben's cigarettes. He didn't smoke, but it was late and he was alone and miserable so why not match a new hobby to his mood?
No lighter, he realized after jamming a wrinkled filter between his lips. "Fuck," he muttered around the cigarette, and stared down at his bare feet. That's when he saw it.
Rather, him.
A pale face crowned in ginger hair turned gold by the lamppost, looked up at him from the water. Smooth and unblinking, lips pursed as though to speak, eyes glowing and turning a curious stare.
Cute, and obviously a bit weird to be night swimming.
Poe waved the cigarette at him. "I don't suppose you have a lighter on you?" he asked.
Ginger shook his head. Behind him, something wide and flat broke the surface and Poe scooted back, thinking at first a large hungry fish had come to claim his new friend. The giant fin rose high above the young man, showing off a bit of iridescent orange and red in its connected body.
Poe's eyes hurt from how they widened. He dropped the cigarette and it floated for two seconds before disappearing into the dark.
"Is that..." He looked at the man. "Are you?"
The fin lowered as Ginger shot his arms high above his head. He sprang for the edge of the deck and hoisted himself upward, allowing Poe to see him in full. A merman. An honest to Force, ginger-gold merman was flopping onto the deck beside him like it was a common occurrence.
Poe looked back at the restaurant, where couples danced and laughed and didn't acknowledge his absence. He locked gazes with the merman, whose expression appeared friendly. Poe couldn't be certain. Merfolk, sirens, lead people to their deaths.
"Nice to meet you, buddy," he said, reaching for the shoes, "but I just remembered I have to drive my pal home. He's... drunk." Maybe I am, too. Poe decided it safer to be drunk further inland.
He backed further away, unaware he'd shifted direction to get away from the merman. He reached behind him and felt air, then tilted downward.
He was falling into the ocean.
Saw The Mandalorian and Grogu yesterday, and am already thinking of a 10k gritty psychological manipulation / mind break fic where Colonel Ward interrogates Lord Janu Coin.
Someone needs to make this happen!
Gingerpilot Week 2026 Day 1: merfolk, sirens, pirates🏴☠️
Pirate! Poe & siren! Hux! Hux might want to eat Poe, but gets caught in Poe's net😱
He is a very fierce siren! (I think Poe still often sends him flowers from the land)
My contribution for Day 1 of Gingerpilot Week!
Prompt: 🧜 Sirens, merfolk, pirates, etc. 🧜
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 3,790
Armitage Hux lived, despite all odds.
But how?
No matter the answer, Poe won't let it bother him. Not when he finally has the chance to turn all their past defeats into a shining new victory.