The_Unoriginal_Sinner
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Your son just started school at Sky High, and tonight you're meeting his favorite Teacher. One problem, you never expected him to be a certified #zaddy.
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"Looking back over his life, it seemed like there was one train of thought that Dean had never let travel, a missing puzzle piece he hadn’t bothered to search for–a sentence that he just wouldn’t finish."
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This is a brief story about reconciling who you wanted to be, with who you are.
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Picture Perfect by The_Unoriginal_Sinner
Fandoms: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars - All Media Types
31 Oct 2019
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Finn looked down at the photo in his hands and nearly swallowed his tongue. Poe Dameron was staring back up at him and he looked absolutely filthy. And not just because he was covered in engine grease. Poe’s flight suit was unzipped and hanging very very low around his waist, leaving him completely bare chested but for a jacket flung over his back shoulder.
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Black Squadron decides to make a naughty calendar; shenanigans ensue. -
Love on the Brain by The_Unoriginal_Sinner
Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
21 Oct 2019
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A series of moments where Poe and Finn let their imaginations run wild. Oh the things the mind can do.
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Penetrating Questions by The_Unoriginal_Sinner
Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
08 Sep 2019
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“Cock!!” Poe uncovered his mouth and yelled much louder than he had intended. He tensed and looked around the unfortunately not empty hangar. The various occupants scattered about had frozen in their tracks and were staring fish eyed at Poe and Finn. “YEAH I SAID COCK.” Poe growled over his shoulder. That seemed to placate them, or at least confirm their suspicions that Poe Dameron was losing his nut. Or requesting to bust one.
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"I had a dream," Robby says. "About you."
"Should I be worried?" Dennis aims for levity, lands somewhere closer to anticipation.
"You were—" Robby pauses, brow furrowing as he searches for the words. Trying to translate something felt—dreamed—into something spoken. "You were somewhere cold. Under a bridge. And I found you. But you didn't know me yet."
Dennis feels something shiver down his spine. "That doesn't sound like a dream. That sounds like a nightmare."
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Bookmarked by The_Unoriginal_Sinner
02 Sep 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Vignettes of finding each other. Lovely
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Robby makes a choice on his last day before sabbatical that is maybe unwise.
Or
Robby adopts a baby
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The box looks out of place.
Maybe it belongs somewhere else.
Dennis picks it up, inside there are two faux-leather brown journals.
Dennis just looks at them for a moment before picking one up, they’re pretty.
Before thinking about it, he opens it, and the chicken scratch handwriting that he has associated with Robby welcomes him on the first page.
September 26th, 2025.
I haven’t hand-written anything that isn’t a prescription or residence reports in a long time-
Dennis snaps it close.
Those are Robby’s journals. Personal journals.
Those are Robby’s diaries.
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Robby's mental health journey, from pittfest throughout his sabbatical, told from the perspective of Robby's journals... -
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Just minutes after leaving the hospital, Whitaker remembers one last question about house-sitting and calls Robby from the car. A quick phone call from the car seems harmless enough... until his battered-up phone fails to hang up.
By the time Whitaker notices, Robby has already heard the one thing Whitaker never wanted him to: that three months apart won't be nearly enough to get over the feelings he has for him.
Three months later, Robby comes home to a spotless apartment, an anxious house-sitter, and a conversation that's been waiting to happen. Whitaker has no idea whether Robby knows or not. Robby has no idea how to tell him that he does. Inevitably, the truth they've both been carefully avoiding finally comes to light.
Bookmarked by The_Unoriginal_Sinner
20 Aug 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Overheard on the phone. Kicking my feet AND flooding my basement
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“I’m fine.” Whitaker’s mouth turns downward. “I just – just didn’t really think you were coming back.”
The scoop slips out of Robby’s slackening grip and bounces off the counter, coffee grounds spilling everywhere. “Fuck,” he curses shakily, casts around for a cloth, a paper towel, anything to try and clean up the mess. Anything to give him an excuse not to look Whitaker in the face.
“Sorry,” Whitaker says, unhappily, and Robby has to glance up after all. “Sorry,” Whitaker says again, “I shouldn’t have – “
“I wasn’t sure I was going to come back either,” Robby says, feels himself trembling with the weight of the confession, and Whitaker’s shoulders drop even lower than they already are.