#sometimes it’s so wild I doubt if it’s canon

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

What do you think Divus was like during his student years in NRC?

Personally I think he was a mixture of Ace, Cater, and Vil. A mischievous troublemaker who was also trendy and sociable with a good fashion sense. Since he is the potion and science teacher, I think he was in Pomefiore.

Also I don’t know if this is true or not, but I heard somewhere that Divus mentioned that he was always followed by two lackeys, who I have no doubt are the twisted versions of Jasper and Horace.

We actually already know some things about Crewel's student days from canon (mainly taken from his Unified Exams voice lines and/or from Happy Beans Day):

Trein was a teacher at NRC when Crewel was a student. They didn’t get along (Crewel was not enthusiastic to see Trein still teaching at NRC), but Trein is credited with teaching Crewel to respect his elders. They continue to bicker, usually passive aggressively and cheekily from Crewel’s end.

Trein says that Beansfest got out of hand during the time Crewel was studying there, which led to there being stricter rules imposed for the current iteration of Beansfest. (It is not known if Crewel himself contributed to that aforementioned chaotic run.)

There was an incident when student!Crewel accidentally overturned a pot of mandrakes. Their screams shattered all the glass in the Alchemy workshop.

Trein says that Crewel used to get into many fights.

Crewel tells us what he wasn’t as rowdy as the kids are nowadays.

He’s still in contact with two of his “henchmen” (ie his juniors) that he met back in school. Crewel says they aren’t clever, but that he can be himself around them; he also trusts them to dogsit for him. These two men are most likely twisted versions of Cruella’s hired help, Jasper and Horace.

From what we know of the canon, here are some conclusions I've personally drawn:

Knowing Trein and Crewel's current relationship (they disagree on trivial things like whether cats or dogs are better; it gets Trein riled up), I assume that they've never really gotten along. Perhaps Crewel was a constant sore spot for Trein or was frequently reprimanded for his behavior in spite of having excellent grades.

Crewel has a voice line in which he advises the player to not wholly devote their efforts to studying and keeping their head down, or else they will become inflexible as adults. He also advises them to “go wild once in a while”, but not so wild that professors will scold you. This makes me think that Crewel had a similar attitude when he was a student himself. That is to say, he was a good student, but also had his rebellious streaks and moments of acting out. Maybe he went too far sometimes, which is why he now informs the player to not cause trouble for their teachers in the pursuit of seeking thrills or a break from their studies.

As the sender has mentioned, Crewel has good fashion sense and currently teaches science courses, meaning he must be proficient in the area. These traits make him a suitable ex-Pomefiore student, as that dorm tends to have students that enjoy aesthetics and excel in potion-making. (This is also the popular headcanon within the fandom.

Crewel has what I would call “refined” tastes and interests, such as sports cars. I feel like he also had this discerning eye for quality and trends as a student.

Crewel is strong-headed and asserts himself well. He walks into a room and just commands it. Because of this, I see him easily being kind of a “leader of the pack” kind of guy—a cool, charismatic person that others can’t help but follow or admire, even if they hate his guts or find him pretentious. I don’t know if I would call him friendly (like, I don’t see him as outgoing), but rather he’s just got a magnetic presence that attracts people to him and definitely knew how to navigate a complex social web.

He gives me the impression that lots of his classmates looked up to him or called him “aniki” (as a sign of respect) 😂 (Twisted Jasper and Horace definitely do this www)

Sometimes I feel like Crewel’s leadership capabilities weren’t used for the… best purposes? Like I’m sure he had his spats of immaturity and led his boys to pull off some stupid pranks or fights or whatever. Maybe they put Lucius in a tree so they can all get out of an exam while Trein is looking for his familiar?? But then they all get an earful about it later… That’s just one example off the top of my head!

The student!Crewel I picture is a lot like Vil in many ways, but stands on his own due to his wild side. Someone who is cool, confident, fashionable… with his own set of rules and a slight edge to him that isn’t very Vil-like.

I hope that sufficiently explained my thoughts ^^

[loveofdetail]

i want to talk about Gale's "I'm not quite sure I'd consider myself father material" line because I think a lot of the fandom brushes it off as just another manifestation of his profound negative self-image but ummmmmmm. well i simply hard disagree. i think he's RIGHT, i think this is a moment of him having an honest and accurate self-assessment: he wouldn't be a good parent.

i do not say this as hate, i say this as someone who also would make a terrible parent. i'm impatient and intense about my own wants and i won't give up the freedom to do frankly irresponsible shit from time to time. i know this about myself and i look at gale and go "same hat."

if i'm being fully honest i find the quantity of pregnancy/parenthood content in the gale dekarios tag really off-putting. yes i have filters but they simply don't catch everything. i'm not trying to rain on anyone's parade, if that's what you like go wild with it no judgment etc etc. i know it's Just One Line of dialogue and a pretty ambivalently phrased one at that and it's everybody's inalienable right to ignore canon anyway, so...

but. man. in my heart of hearts it is genuinely alienating to see a character who 1) struggles with impulsiveness 2) struggles with suicidality 3) has a tendency to dismiss people who aren't on his level 4) is in the depths of navigating his own selfish/ambitious streak 5) hyperfixates on intellectual interests to a sometimes unhealthy degree and MOST OF ALL 6) expresses real doubt toward the idea of parenthood!!! ...get fandomified into The Perfect Dad. sorry.

[snarky-magpie]

I've seen an opinion on Tiktok (shudders) that Regulus shouldn't be soft. That the only biblically accurate version of Regulus is a BAMF, and look, I get it. It's fun to read and I love OTB where he just gets to dish out his personal brand of justice (it's my favorite jegulus fic, in fact), but is a badass Regulus biblically accurate?

Somehow, I doubt it. First, Sirius literally calls him soft. "My idiot brother, soft enough to believe them." Granted, he's an unreliable narrator through the eyes of another unreliable narrator, but we can glean from the context Regulus probably joined Voldemort to impress his parents. To show them he was the 'good son', obedient and receptive to their wishes and opinions.

Canonical Regulus was a people pleaser, simple as that. It was only after a brutal reality check that he reassessed his beliefs and grew some spine to shake his upbringing and do what was right, not what he was taught.

Second, in a lot of fics, Regulus is an abused child. The degree of the abuse varies, and tbh I don't think the Blacks were physically or magically abusive toward their children (the abuse was more likely manipulative and psychological in nature).

Which can do just as much damage as physical abuse, of course. Possibly worse because it's not visible, so it's easily overlooked.

Abused children don't usually grow up to be badasses. They grow up to be a little broken, quiet, and yes, people pleasers, (and sometimes serial killers). They also need a ton of therapy to overcome their baggage.

I get that this is fanfic, and it doesn’t need to be realistic, and it's fun to explore various scenarios and what-ifs.

But claiming that a single version of a character that directly contradicts canon is the only right one seems wild to me.

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: all his life, zoro had been dragging you away from danger. but sometimes, you just slip through his fingers.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: roronoa zoro x sister!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.8k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: swearing, use of Y/N, reader is zoro's sister, fluff before the angst, canon typical violence, death, can be interpreted as both anime and live action zoro, apparently all i do is angst now 🥰

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: fine line, instrumental

For as long as Zoro could remember, he’d been the one looking after you. Day and night, he watched your every move, ensuring you didn’t do anything stupid. Doing stupid stuff just happened to your favorite hobby. It was taxing keeping you out of trouble, sure, but Zoro was all you had left, so despite only being a year your elder, he took it upon himself to care for you.

But he was so young, and you were so… unhelpful.

Reckless. Wild. Unthinking. A menace, that’s what you were. Zoro could barely even blink before he was dragging you away from a cliff’s watery edge by your ear. 

“But Zoro!” you whined. 

“But nothing,” he gritted.

You grew more restless by the hour, it seemed, always trying to tug him along on an adventure you swore would be worth his time. Zoro relented most days, if only to keep you alive (Because he’d never admit your adventures were actually fun).

Zoro supposed your habit of wandering off wasn’t so bad. You were the whole reason he’d found the dojo in Shimotsuki Village, after all, having wandered so far you reached another end of the island for him to chase you to. Besides, he was in no place to talk; he got lost just as easily, if not more.

Difficult didn’t do the feeling of trying to keep up with you justice, and it only grew harder the older the pair of you got. 

“Come on, Zoro!” you pleaded, gripping his hand.

“I’m busy,” he muttered, shrugging you off.

He spent his days studying the blade, and you were left to your own devices until an old tutor got her hands on you, teaching you mathematics and literature day in and day out. Every night before bed you complained and complained, whining that you’d much rather be running around the pastures or, better yet, training with Zoro.

But there was an ever-widening gap between you and your brother, even if you didn’t see it just yet. In your eyes, things were just the same as always, but your brother was headed on a very different path. 

He would go down in history, no doubt. Your tutor and most of the village agreed. And you… well, no one knew what to make of you. You were simply there most days. 

And as days came and went, Zoro paid less and less attention to you. It used to be easy to distract him into playing make believe, pretending to be pirates battling over treasure, but then he and Kuina made their vow, and Zoro threw himself further into his training.

And you, more interested in pretending than actually fighting, fell behind.

All you’d wanted to do was play with him and Kuina, but Zoro seemed adamant on being mean that day.

“We’re not playing,” he snarled back at you. “We’re training. Go play with someone else.”

You huffed and tried to stomp on his foot, missing by an inch. “Nobody here likes me! And I can train too!”

“Really?” Zoro scoffed. “You can barely even walk without tripping.”

Kuina stood off to the side, waiting for her friend to join her again, when she’d had enough of his sour tone. “Zoro, don’t be cruel.” Her sharp eyes roamed to you. “If you go find a training sword, we’ll let you come with us.”

Your whole face lit up, nodding quickly as you set off at a sprint to the dojo. Zoro groaned and turned to glare at her. “Why would you say that?”

“Because,” Kuina snapped, gripping his wrist and dragging him back down the path. “Now we have a head start.”

A few minutes later, you rushed back to where you’d left Kuina and Zoro, a training sword in hand, and briefly tripped over a raised stone. When you lifted your head, smiling brightly, they were gone, far off into the forest to train alone.

Some of the other kids from the dojo walked past, heading inside, when they spotted her. One leaned into the other, whispering just loud enough for you to hear: “Pathetic. Does she not have a life?”

Your lips curled into a frown and you threw down the sword, gritting your teeth.

Zoro apologized later, of course, eventually feeling bad when he came home to find you sulking in the corner. He promised he’d teach you how to wield a sword someday, which did wind up dragging a little smile out of you. Yet, that day never came. Weeks and months went by and Zoro drifted further and farther away. 

But you just couldn’t let him go, nagging and nagging and nagging.

“Can I train with you and Kuina today?” you asked, meeker than usual. You figured you knew the answer, but still, you had the nerve to hope. 

But then Zoro shifted awkwardly, hesitating to answer, and you just wanted to go back to your books. You’d gotten a new one recently, about the ocean and its mystery. 

“Listen,” he started. “I’ll play with you when we get back, okay?”

Your jaw set. Usually, you backed down pretty quick. You respected yourself enough to not chase after him all day. Today was different, though. Today was your birthday. “I don’t want to play. I want to train to be strong like you and Kuina.”

“Then I’ll train with you later.” 

He was gone the next moment, kicking up dust as he left you all alone. You wanted to hate him, since hating was usually so easy for you, but you couldn’t. 

Zoro was all you had left.

But he had someone else besides you, someone he much preferred to spend his time with: Kuina.

You found it was much easier to hate Kuina.

You weren’t at all subtle either. From little jabs to plain glaring, Kuina got the message. To your great disdain, she found it funny, cute even.

It was your obvious dislike of her that eventually brought her to give you the time of day, approaching you whilst you were reading.

“Good book?” came the voice of your arch nemesis. 

Glaring up at her, you pushed your reading glasses up your nose and shifted away from her, refusing to respond.

Her breathy laugh only spoiled your evening further. “I take that as a no…?”

“Leave me alone, Kuina.” 

Instead, she sat down beside you, leering over your shoulder to see what you were reading. “History? Sounds… fun.” You shifted away from her, and she followed. “Do those glasses really help?”

You snapped your book shut just as she reached to touch the page, nearly getting her finger. “I don’t know why Zoro likes you so much. You’re annoying.”

She grinned at you like you’d fallen right into her trap. “Is that why you don’t like me? ‘Cause Zoro won’t hang out with you anymore?”

As if she wasn’t infuriating enough, she was also very right. You jumped to your feet and glowered down at her. “You know what your problem is?”

She was standing in an instant, towering over you with that damn smile. “You gonna tell me, Roronoa?”

“Yeah!” You clenched your fists and grit your teeth. “You’re—You’re a brother stealer!”

“A brother stealer?” She had the nerve to laugh. “Please. We’re training to be the greatest swordsman or swordswoman in the world.”

You exasperated, “So?”

“So,” she said, “I’m not trying to steal your brother. But I can help you steal him back.”

Breathing heavily, you slowly lost your fire, confusion washing over your face. “What?”

Kuina shrugged. “I’ll train with you.”

Sputtering, “And why would I wanna train with you?”

“Because I’m the only one here who can beat Zoro.” She leveled her gaze with yours, something evil in that smirk of hers. “You wanna impress him? Train with me.”

“I…” She was serious. You’d seen the hard look in her eyes before; it’s how she looked right before she kicked somebody’s ass. You swallowed thickly. “Okay.”

That was how it started. An hour before Zoro was up, early before the sun, you and Kuina got to work. You were a tough student, with a spitfire attitude akin to your brother’s and all the clumsiness he lacked. 

When you tried to quit, Kuina advanced with her sword two times as fast, forcing you to block and parry like she knew you could. 

Months went by, and Zoro was all too unaware. You and Kuina had done a good job of keeping up pretenses, sharing secretive grins when Zoro’s back was turned. The one time he nearly found you out was when Kuina’s sword nicked your arm, and Zoro found you haphazardly trying to bandage it up. His line of questioning was rapid fire, panicked in every sense of the word as he did it for you.

Then, Kuina caught you by surprise; she said you were ready, and no amount of frantic head shaking would make her think otherwise. 

You didn’t have a real sword, you said, showing her your wooden practice weapon as if to prove it.

She’d simply given you that damn smirk and swapped the wood for her own sword. All breath left you as she closed your hand around her family sword. 

That was all the encouragement you needed, and she left you standing outside your little home to get ready for her training session with Zoro. The sun was barely peeking up over the horizon. You could barely hear the sound of Zoro rustling around inside the house behind you, and your fist tightened around the hilt of Kuina’s prized sword.

Zoro briefly wondered why you’d gotten out of bed so early when he noticed your blanket tossed aside, you nowhere in sight. You must be playing somewhere else, he decided, finally ready as he headed outside.

You were certainly not what he expected to find waiting for him. Your hands were held behind your back, your eyes ever like a does. A sigh dragged out of him as he approached you, meaning to walk right by you like he usually did.

“I’ll play with you later—”

In a blink, the shining edge of a blade was in his path. Stumbling back he followed the blade to that familiar hilt, now held by his little sister. The doe eyes were gone, replaced by a serious gaze he was unaccustomed to.

“What about now?” You retracted the sword and took a battle position, arcing the blade around before placing both hands on the hilt. 

He backed away from you, crossing his arms, not wanting his hands to be anywhere near the hilts of his blades. “I’m not fighting you.”

That only spurred you on. “You don’t have a choice.”

There was a wary look in his eyes before you surged forth to begin the duel. Kuina stood off to the side, eyes alight, and helped you dust off your clothes when Zoro inevitably knocked you to the dirt in a matter of minutes.

Your chest heaved as you leaned on Kuina, eyes dangerously narrow. You refused to look at Zoro.

“You’ve been training her?” Zoro guessed, not sounding angry or frustrated… just confused, and maybe sad.

Kuina nodded. “We’ve been working, yeah. She’s good, right?”

The compliment meant nothing. Humiliation coursed through your veins, the Wado Ichimonji burning through your skin. 

“Whatever,” you murmured, shoving Kuina’s sword back into her hands before stomping off into the woods.

Zoro watched you go, unable to ignore when Kuina bumped his shoulder and said, “She admires you. It’s about time you give her the time of day.”

So he trudged after you, wondering what the hell he was supposed to say.

Zoro wouldn’t say it out loud, but you were good. Far better than he remembered you being. Kuina was probably a better teacher. More patient, most likely.

But… he couldn’t help but wish it’d been him to train you up to be able to wear him out like you did. Zoro swallowed that thought and settled on finding you first, and having regrets later.

He found you sitting on a patch of grass, wiping at your damp face. Zoro made you cry. and he had the sense this wasn’t the first time.

Some brother he was.

So he ditched his hesitation and settled down on the grass beside you, testing the waters. You didn’t sprint off into the brush, so he took that as a good sign.

“What do you want?” you said first.

“I… You did well. Really well.” He pulled at some grass, ripping it apart. “I’m sorry I’ve been…”

“An asshole?” you supplied. “A major dick? A stick in the mud?” 

Zoro huffed a laugh. “All of the above?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, turning away, going serious again. “I didn’t beat you.”

“Did you expect to?” Your huffy silence was answer enough. “Y/N, I’ve been training for years.”

Your eyes found him then, all slits and sadness. “And I haven’t, yeah, I know. Why’s that, ya think?”

He ruffled slightly. “You could have joined us in the dojo.”

“Like hell I could have. I’ve said it before—those kids don’t like me. Besides, it’s your thing. You would have found some reason I should quit.” 

Did he really make you feel that way? Zoro felt it was fair, all the times he’d brushed you off coming to mind, and he grimaced. Then, he started to think. “Why do you want to learn to fight? I didn’t think that was your thing.”

You took your time to answer, tugging at your own grass and tossing it into the wind. “I hate being left behind. I thought if I could impress you, you’d… you’d play with me again.”

Hearing that made Zoro feel so much worse. The pair of you might be getting older, but at the end of the day, you just wanted to be around him. Zoro let the silence hang in space between you for a few moments, before he rolled to the side and swiped a long stick on the ground.

Your confused eyes followed him, widening when he pointed the stick at you. Zoro grinned and started to poke at you, causing you to scramble back on the grass. 

“Stand and fight, pirate!” he bellowed. 

Immediately, you jumped to your feet, an exhilarated smile popping onto your face. You dodged left and took up your own stick sword, holding it in front of your face as you circled your brother.

Who were you today? A fellow pirate? A pirate confronting a marine admiral? Perhaps you were brother and sister pirates, crossing paths after years of pursuing the other for vengeance. Whatever make believe you and Zoro were in today, you relished in it, knowing someday you’d have to accept the fate of growing up.

So for now, you fought your brother in the only way you were equals: pretending, your imagination spinning circles around his as his skill spun around yours.

Zoro had missed you, he realized. Being so caught up in being better for you, in being the one to make you proud, he forgot how fun simply existing alongside you could be. 

So he followed you deep into the woods, tripping over his own feet and grunting at your lofty laughter. You led him up hills and through brush, up trees and back down, and all around the island till Zoro couldn’t help but wonder what exactly you saw in the forest that he didn’t.

“That girl is wild,” your tutor said once. “It’s like she’s more at home in the trees.”

She said it in some kind of scornful way that mothers do, when they’re half upset and half in reluctant wonderment. He had to agree with the old woman, for if Zoro couldn’t find you, chances were he’d discover you in the forest, atop a rock or up in a tree.

Oftentimes, if it wasn’t Zoro clinging to the lower branches while you laughed at him, Kuina was with you. Neither of you had ever wanted for a sister, but neither of you were exactly complaining either. 

Zoro stood with his hands planted on his hips, head tilted back and still not exactly able to see where you and Kuina sat giggling amidst the branches of the ancient oak tree. 

“Y/N!” he shouted, hoping his voice would at least reach you. “Come down!”

“No!” you laughed back down. A few leaves trickled down, and a pang jerked Zoro’s heart around. How high up were you?

“It’s not safe!”

Kuina rolled her eyes. “Says you! We’re fine!”

He hardly believed her, his nails starting to dig into his palms. “C’mon! It’s gettin’ dark!”

You looked toward the horizon line, spotting the sun just as she dipped behind the mountains. Instantly, you were entranced, aching to join her. The wind whistled in your ears, as it often did, and you leaned forward just a bit. 

“He’s right,” Kuina huffed. “My dad will be mad if I get home after dark.” When you didn’t reply, she tried to catch your faraway gaze. “Y/N?”

Despite your hummed acknowledgment, your eyes were shut, a pleasant grin pulling at your face. Air tickled your cheeks, ruffling your hair, sending you the scent of miles away cherry blossoms.

You could have sat in that tree all night and into the next, but Kuina was tugging on your arm, dragging you out of the moment. You blinked like you were awakening from a deep slumber. “Sorry, what?”

“It’s time to go home,” said Kuina. 

“Oh. Right.”

You descended the tree without much thought, finding purchase for your feet and hands to grip as if the tree was reaching out to catch you, whereas Kuina very nearly fell to the ground more than once. Zoro awaited at the bottom of the tree, arms crossed and brows taut.

He watched as you grinned, eyes somewhere else entirely, and trotted back to the village all merry-like. Kuina plopped to the grass beside him, teetering on her feet before he caught her arm. 

“Thanks,” she sighed. “I don’t know how she does it so naturally.”

Zoro thought back to what the old tutor once told him. It’s like she’s more at home in the trees. “I dunno. It’s… cool, though.”

You were cool, he meant to say, but wouldn’t ever say it out loud. His little sister, who could catch fish with her bare hands and find four leaf clovers like they were nothing, was very much cool in his eyes.

He thought it again that night, when Kuina joined them for dinner with food her father had prepared, and you lurched forward to tuck a forget-me-not behind Kuina’s ear. 

“These don’t grow on the island,” Kuina pointed out. You simply grinned, like you had some secret nobody else could understand.

Kuina became just as important to you as she was to Zoro. Which is why her accident was such a travesty.

Out of the whole entire village, it hit Zoro the hardest. You would know his look of pure, unadulterated shock till the end of your days. Zoro was beside himself, and you were no better. With your only other friend gone, you had no one to lean on.

Zoro only thought of the blade—of his vow to Kuina—leaving you to mourn and dwell and be all alone. You tried to be bitter, you really did, even going to the lengths of hiding all his clean clothes just so he would talk to you, but you were still terrible at being angry with Zoro. (When all Zoro did was exist in his dirtier-by-the-day clothes, you didn’t know whether to be angry or just plain sorry for him. You settled on both).

You tried to confront him, talk to him, anything, but all he’d done was sigh and say, “Just… go read, or something. It’s good for you.”

Like you’d listen to a word he said… but reading was all you could do. It was how you winded up back on your tutor’s door step with a ducked chin and folded arms. She pursed her lips, setting a hand under your chin, cupping your face as she beckoned you inside. Each day you poured over texts and tomes till Shimotsuki Village was completely dry of new literature.

The old woman taught you till she died. Despite how life had fled your eyes, she called you Wild till her last day. “You can’t stay,” she said in her dying breath. “Wild things never last here.”

Like you’d ever think of leaving Zoro. 

But soon came the day when Zoro, like you, could learn no more from that village. You assumed the pair of you would set out together now that your paths led you away from home. Zoro had other plans.

Three swords rested at Zoro’s hip, one heartachingly familiar with its white hilt and glimmering blade. He was hunched over a bag, collecting supplies from your little home. 

“So that’s it?” you spoke into the tense silence. “You’re leaving?”

“I have to fulfill my promise to…” He didn’t finish, her name hanging in the air. “We always knew I’d leave one day.”

“And what about me?” you demanded, daring him to admit he was abandoning you. 

Instead, he closed his satchel and stood, back still facing you. “Sensei promised he’d look after you.”

“Even if I wasn’t already an adult,” you snarled. “I don’t want your sensei. I want my brother.”

Your eyes glistened with tears behind your readers, still sat on the bridge of your nose from where you’d been annotating the last of your tutor’s dusty books. He glanced up, catching your eye, and immediately returned his gaze to the floor. 

“I need to become the world’s greatest swordsman,” Zoro said as he walked past you, brushing shoulders with you before he stopped just at the door. “For Kuina. And I need to do it alone.”

Catching your breath, you shook your head at him. “No. All my life I’ve been so patient with you. I’ve forgotten every time you forgot me, everytime you were mean to me—I let it all go! You—You don’t get to let me go. That’s not how this works, Zoro!” 

You felt hysterical, tears streaming down your face. And all Zoro could do was stare at the ground.

“You’ll understand someday.”

Hot anger boiled beneath your skin, making you warm all over. Your cheeks burnt and your hands balled into fists. You folded your arms over your chest to keep from lashing out at him with the fury of a sister scorned. 

You would never understand. 

He breathed shakily. “I… love you, Y/N.”

It was like a bullet to your heart. You peered over your shoulder to find his back just over the threshold of the door, one hand on his three swords and the other rested on the doorframe. You hadn’t stood up to Zoro in many years, mostly because he hadn’t given you reason to. Until now.

“You really are stupid.”

“Y/N—”

“Don’t waste your breath,” you snarled, sweeping over to your desk and grabbing your ready-and-packed satchel. Wiping your nose and eyes on your sleeve, you steeled yourself and swallowed up all your cries. “Where are we headed?”

You turned, adjusting the satchel on your shoulder, and lifted your gaze to your brother, who had turned to stare at you. Faltering, you tried to gauge what Zoro was thinking, what had always been an impossible task. Zoro had never looked at you like this before, his eyes void of any hostility or pity or annoyance. For a moment, he wasn’t an apprentice or a swordsman, nor was he Kuina’s legacy.

He was Zoro, the brother who could have hung the stars with how much you believed in him. 

And for a moment, Zoro wasn’t looking at his baby sister, helpless in every sense of the word, desperate to prove herself—Zoro saw what Kuina had, once upon a time; a warrior more mind and spirit than strength, the force of a thousand soldiers behind her puffy red eyes.

It was terrifying, to say the least. You weren’t so little anymore, and he didn’t feel so big anymore. 

“First,” he grumbled. “We’re getting you a sword.”

Your eyes shined, not from tears (he was glad you still had your wonder intact). “And second?”

“We’re going after Dracule Mihawk, the greatest swordsman in the world.”

Standing at the docks a while later, preparing to depart, you nudged his shoulder to catch his fleeting attention. The silence had been tense all evening. Your grin was soft and unsure as you mumbled, “I love you too, by the way.” Zoro ruffled, nodding, and you pressed on with a smirk. “You’ve never said that to me before.”

“Sure I have,” he countered, but you shook your head.

“Nope. Never. But that’s okay.” You turned to stare at the ground, the captain of the ship taking you away starting toward the pair of you. “I’ve never said it either.”

And in the underbelly of that big merchant ship, sitting on the small cots allotted to you for the journey, you lifted your gaze to lock him in place. “Let’s make a promise.”

Zoro stilled, setting his swords beside him as he met your gaze. He wasn’t opposing the idea, so you pressed on, presenting your pinky to him. Zoro had the nerve to scoff. “Don’t laugh. This is a sacred ritual.”

Rolling his eyes, Zoro rested his arms on his knees, reaching to interlock his pinky with yours. A smile tugged at your face. “What’s our promise?”

You hummed, not having thought that far ahead, before getting excited again. “I promise to stay by your side. No matter how much of an idiot you are.”

For a while, he said nothing, staring at your hands in the space between you. He started to speak, thought better of it, before pressing on. “That’s a big promise. Sure you won’t change your mind?”

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “If I do, I’ll just break my pinky.”

He blinked, trying hard not to let his smirk through, and he laughed despite himself. “Fine. I promise I won’t abandon you. Ever. No matter how much a menace you are.”

Satisfied, you retracted your pinky, letting your eyes flutter shut. You yawned and laid on the less than comfy cot, and were out like a light in minutes. Zoro stayed awake at your side all night, hyper aware of every motion all around, threatening each thing that creeped in the dark recesses with a single glare. 

For you, this was a dream. The world was your playground, an adventure just like the ones you’d read about. On the contrary, Zoro was stressing. You had this penchant for getting into trouble, always finding danger wherever you went. 

Tiffs between you and your brother were never far away, but unlike when you were younger, these fights lacked a certain fire, almost as if neither of you cared to pick at the other anymore. That realization was odd, to say the least. It was almost like the pair of you were growing up.

Word quickly spread across the East Blue about the Pirate Hunter Zoro, so deadly they took to calling him a demon… and then there was you. People tended to ignore girls, looking over your head and not caring to lower their voices when you lurked nearby. You were Zoro’s main informant, picking up on locations and secrets before your targets had any clue they were being hunted.

And as weeks flew by, you and Zoro found a new kind of camaraderie; respect. After years, it looked like Zoro was finally respecting you as an equal. As a friend.

You had quite the temper, never backing away from a threat, mostly because you knew your big brother was behind you. You don’t like the price for those apples? The vendor isn’t willing to barter? You're cursing their mother and demanding a fair price, and just as the vendor is reaching for a knife there appears this giant of a man, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. You always get the price you want.

Zoro liked to shine and sharpen and clean his swords himself, but one day he was so tired he fell asleep while doing the first one. He woke up to all three glittering up at him. You said it was no problem, and went out of your way to get to the task before he did each time. 

Your habit of climbing trees returned, and with it a newfound love for scaling buildings as well. Zoro’s not sure how he doesn’t have a head full of gray hairs, but he feels for sure it's coming.

Still, despite your insistence on remaining a menace (he’s certain it’s on purpose), Zoro was happy you’re with him. Things nearly reached a new kind of normal; he hunted the pirates, you helped him, you both got paid. 

But he saw how restless you became, always itching for the next adrenaline hit. Somewhere inside, Zoro feared the day you’d get so restless you turned back to recklessness. Mostly, he feared he wouldn’t be there to save you in time. 

Zoro’s footsteps were ghostly, not a sound coming from him as he slinked up the gangway of the little pirate ship. His bandana was tight around his head, two of his swords brandished and at the ready. On his left, a pirate stood guard and was swiftly knocked out by a blow to his skull.

A routine operation, sure to bring in enough beri to get you and Zoro to the next island over. Maybe you’d even have enough left over for some decent food, he pondered, turning and laying eyes on the door to the lower decks. 

It should have been a routine operation, but the moment he stepped into the winding halls of that ship, the pirates were all over him, coming at him left and right. They drove him back up to the main deck, landing blows against his three swords yet never getting through his defenses. 

But if he stayed on the defense, he doubted he’d actually find an opening to get the hell outta there. Zoro swiped his swords in an arc to drive the horde of them away just long enough to make a break for the docks, but a gunshot rang true, whizzing past his head before he could take a step.

He whipped around and found the man he’d intended to murder in his sleep, and drag his body back without ever alerting the crew. The captain reloaded his pistol, a maniacal grin splitting his face. 

“Roronoa Zoro,” the man drawled, stepping down from the stern of the ship. “Your reputation precedes you.”

He blinked up at him, readjusting his hold on his swords. “Sorry, who the fuck are you?”

The smile dropped instantly. “Only the man who will end your sorry life, pirate hunter.”

Zoro scoffed. “I’d like to see you try.”

He heard it, but it was so soft he tried to convince himself he was delusional; but then it got louder, till he heard the sound of feet bounding up the gangway as his blood ran cold, and there you were, shouting his name, your sword held before you.

“Zoro,” you gasped, ignoring everything else as you gazed upon him with wild eyes. “It’s—It’s a trap.”

The captain’s laugh was like a ringing in his ear. Zoro’s stare was zeroed in on you, begging you to run away, horror flooding his senses. No. No. No.

“A little too late, kid,” the captain bellowed, slinging around his pistol and eyeing you predatorily. “Here to die with the hunter?”

Zoro’s heart dropped when you spat at the ground, shooting the captain a glare. The man growled, nodding at his awaiting crew. “Take care of her. I’ll take Roronoa.”

You had lunged before Zoro could do a thing, clashing your blade against your opponents and dodging each strike with ease. Zoro made to run to you when a sword swiped through the air and caught his arm, forcing him to face the captain of the ship.

A routine. This was meant to be a routine. You were meant to be safe at the little inn, awaiting his return with a gripy comment about having woken you up, despite knowing fully well you’d been up the whole time. 

But you were here, fighting for your life against ten or so men twice your size. You could only hold them off for so long. Zoro set his jaw and set his third sword between his teeth, taking on the slimy excuse for a captain. 

“Y/N!” He shouted, muffled around the hilt of his blade. “Get out of here!”

“No!” you shouted right before wincing as you took a wrong step and twisted your ankle, attempting to walk it off as you evaded being skewered. 

His eyes followed you, spying a pirate jumping down from the stern. Zoro sprinted away from his own fight, vaulting over you and decapitating the pirate, landing on the deck in a roll. You heaved, awestruck, and giggled despite it all.

Zoro stood, eyes dark as a demon’s, and looked right at you. It was as if the sun was held captive in your eyes, even now. A spot of blood seeped into your shirt, and he parried three men’s attacks to reach you. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, your back to Zoro’s as you drove back another blow. “I’m sorry. I should’ve known something was up.”

“Don’t—” he kicked a guy to the side “—Don’t be. Just—”

He whirled on you as you let out a whimper, now clutching your shoulder. In a flash, Zoro severed the arm of the man who’d hurt you, letting you lean against him for a moment. Maybe four men were still standing, yet the captain had gone out of sight. The coward. 

His heart raced, the sound of it blaring in his ears and making it hard to gather his wits up off the ground. Zoro could barely breathe, but he managed to berate you still. “Stay down. I’ll handle this.”

You glared up at him, your eyes going wide a moment later. Your hands landed on his shoulders and pushed him down with all your might, and he keeled over, not expecting it. He rolled to the side and stood, taking out another pirate by his leg in the process, and whipped back around to yell at you.

But… something was wrong. You teetered precariously on your feet, and your face was all scrunched up, and why were you clutching your chest like that? Was there that much blood on your shirt before? 

Even when he saw the captain standing behind you with a bloodied sword, Zoro couldn’t believe what he was seeing. If anyone had seen what happened next, they would understand precisely why Roronoa Zoro was compared to a demon; the three remaining men and their captain were dead before you ever hit the deck.

Zoro fell to his knees, his swords clattering to the ground as he scooped up your head and held you to him. Your name fell from his trembling lips, his wide eyes pleading with yours to stay open. You were fading before his very eyes, the sun behind them setting fast. 

“Hey,” he stammered. “Hey, don’t go—you can’t. Remember? You don’t get to leave. That’s not how this works. That’s what you said.” You smiled up at him, and it all got infinitely worse. “Stop being—stop being stupid. You’re not dying. Get up.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered as black fuzz clouded your vision. “I’m… okay…”

You went limp in his arms. His tears didn’t make a sound, nor did he as he carried your body back to the inn, passing the innkeeper solemnly, and laid you down on the bed. He stood guard at your side till morning, and he went back for the body of the pirate captain, cashed in the bounty, and made preparations to go back home.

Your grave sat beside Kuina’s, on a nice ridge overlooking the village. The sunset in beautiful from up there.

The demon pirate hunter roamed the East Blue without an ounce of mercy, earning himself his title and reputation once and for all. No one ever dared to trap him again, not after they heard what happened to the last guys who tried. The whole crew died in twenty minutes, is what they said.

He barely spoke to anyone besides a bartender, becoming more specter than man. His eyes always had this dark tint to them, a haunting behind them that struck fear into the very soul of anyone who looked into them. 

And he liked it that way. He didn’t need anyone getting a closer look at him, not when everyone he ever cares about winds up—gone. He swore he’d never let anyone get close ever again. It was safer that way.

No one touched his swords. No one so much as brushed past them without getting an earful. Only he ever cleaned, shined, or sharpened his blades. He claimed no one ever did it right.

In truth, the demon pirate was getting sloppy, as much as he hated to admit it. He had a mission to complete, yet each day grew more difficult than the last. He took on bounties without much thought, fought anyone who spared him a glance. 

Reckless. He’d grown reckless.

It’s what led him to Shell Town. What led him to that restaurant. What led him to defending that little girl and her mother (he sees you in every child with just an ounce of wonder). It’s what brought him here, tied to this post under the blazing sun, starving and thirsty, and he felt deserving of it.

But he couldn’t die here. He’d let one promise be broken. The other would be fulfilled. He just had ten more days left, then he’d be on his way. Surely, Hawkeye Mihawk can’t hide forever. Then, after… he could rest. Only then. Only then.

“They say you’re a bad guy.”

Zoro frowned, lifting his eyes from the dirt, squinting through the blinding sun to make out who stood before him. Their outline came first, a boy, with something on his head. He blinked a few times and took in this kid who dared to step into this yard. 

He looked him up and down, took in the straw hat on his head, shielding the kid’s eyes from the sun. Yet, somehow… despite the shade being cast on his face, there was a bright glow in his complexion, but Zoro couldn’t decide where it was coming from (he refused to admit it was coming from his eyes).

This kid had the nerve to smile at Zoro, giving him the sense that maybe they had met before. Why else would that unrestrained, recklessly true smile make Zoro’s heart stop? 

(Zoro would only let himself think it some weeks later, when he’d long since accepted the offer of first mate, and long since the Straw Hat pirates found a ship of their own—Luffy reminded him of you, as terrifying as that was).

(Maybe he would let one, or two, or however many people were on that ship get close. Just maybe, it wouldn’t hurt to try).

“Zoro!” Luffy called, racing toward the afterdeck in search of the mossheaded swordsman. He jumped to a stop, finding Zoro sitting under the tangerine trees, slowly peeling one in his hand. “There you are! What’re you doing?”

He barely cast him a glance. “Trying to be alone.”

Luffy laughed at that, plopping himself down next to Zoro. “Me too.” He reached up a rubber hand and swiped a tangerine, only thinking how odd it was a moment later. “Hmm, Nami would normally skin us for eating her fruit.”

Zoro stilled before popping a slice into his mouth. “She said it’s fine. As long as I’m alone.”

The captain tilted his head, skeptical as he slowly chewed a piece of his tangerine. “Why?”

Luffy received no answer, not right away, not until Zoro finished his tangerine and set the peel in front of him to dispose of later. And Luffy waited, shredding his peel into lots of pieces just for the fun of it. 

“I had a sister,” Zoro finally confessed, causing Luffy to freeze up. “It’s her birthday.”

So many questions bubbled under the surface. Why hadn't he mentioned her? Why hadn’t Luffy met her? What’s her name? Does she have green hair too? But… Zoro’s solemn expression had Luffy falling silent, watching his face carefully.

No explanation came, but Luffy gathered the gist of it. Whoever this sister was, she wasn’t around anymore. “Do you… still want to be alone?”

Zoro hesitated, hands squeezing his knees tightly, his throat gone dry. “No.”

“Okay,” Luffy smiled softly, plucking his hat from his head and setting it on Zoro’s, slightly missing the mark and pushing it down over his eyes.

The swordsman huffed a laugh, peeking out from under the hat. “What’s that for?”

Luffy shrugged. “Dunno. The hat makes me feel better.”

Zoro shook his head, gazing softly upon his captain before adjusting the straw hat on his head and shifting to stare at the sea. “Thank you, Luffy. For everything.”

“No problem, Zoro. Hey, do you when dinner's ready?"

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @100520s @raspberrymuffings you mentioned big bro zoro A WHILE ago on my sanji's sister fic

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Bouquet of Violets (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You are happy in your marriage, even if your husband can be quite hellish. It all starts to go wrong when a secret admirer shows up.

Warnings: Angst! Fluff! All the feelings! And yeah, mature language and topics. Canon character death (Not Aemond)

A/N: Hopelessly romantic (delusional) reader! meets Aemond. Based on a song I grew up listening. The girls that get it, get it.

Aemond, unlike you, remembers the first time the two of you met. You wore your hair down, back then. It cascaded down your back in the ways girl's hair often did before they flowered, unstyled and wild.

You must have been nine, or ten years old. He was twelve and having a temper tantrum, hiding in the corners near the throne room. Your father was in an audience with King Viserys, while you and your mother explored the Red Keep. Aemond had never found out what the meeting was about, nor did he care.

Your mother was dressed in brightly colored robes, matching your father’s. You were still dressed in the frocks of childhood. Your small, bony shoulder, had hit him right on the ribs as your mother walked you down the hallway, and Aemond had been ready to give you the tongue lashing of your life. Yet, something had halted him.

When you had bumped into him, you had raised your gaze, to meet his. Back then, he didn’t wear the eye patch, the scar tissue too raised to do so. Instead of flinching back at the gruesome sight of the marred flesh, as most people did, you had offered him a kind smile.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to.” Your sweet smile lit up your whole face. You were not the prettiest girl he had ever seen, all awkward limbs and missing a tooth. But you were the kindest. As you fell back into step with your mother, clutching your doll, Aemond could not help but be charmed by you.

So many years have passed that Aemond does not recall what your mother and you were talking about. What he does recall are another two things: First, that you were sheltered. You referred to a pet of some sorts as your friend. Second, you were clearly hung up on the notion of marriage.

Later, he would realize that The Stranger had not touched your family yet. While you might have been familiar with the notion of death, as many children were, but had not fully grasped the troubles of mortality. That was why you were concerned over the thought of what would happen to your pet when you married.

Your mother replied something along the lines of them going with you, but the doubt was clear in her tone. She was uncertain about the prolonged longevity of your childhood companion.

Sometimes Aemond thinks of how much you must have wept when they passed. The idea of you being so distraught over something you loved makes his heart ache in a weird way.

Darkly, he thinks of how you will react once he is dead. He knows his chance of surviving this are low, especially now. Will he merit as many tears as your pet did?

The words your mother last spoke before the two of you disappeared down the hallway were forever etched in his memory.

“The man who loves you will respect everything you love and hold dear. Remember that.”

You came to him with no pet. But he would have taken in an entire farm if you had.

The next time the two of you had crossed paths, Aemond had liked you even more. You were beautiful. Having long left behind the styles of childhood, your hair was worn up as a proper lady. It made it easier to admire your eyes, magnetizing and intelligent.

You were fond of reading and writing. When he saw you again, your nose was buried into a book. It was not philosophy, or history, or any useful subject, really. You read love stories, fairy stories and all sorts of things. Literature and poetry and children’s tales all rolled into one.

It was your mother, who encouraged that passion of yours. Despite being married to a man who was much older than her, and less educated, she had found happiness in him. She looked at the world in a rather unique way. One you had inherited.

You had been taught to read at an early age. According to your mother, education was the greatest equalizer between men and women, even if she didn’t voice it around your father. He didn’t know his letters very well, and so, had little clue about what books you choose to bury your nose in. If he had known, he would have disapproved.

Most men would have, truly. No one wanted young maidens to get unrealistic ideas about how marriage was supposed to go. Yet, when Aemond himself had the chance to put a stop to it, he found himself unable to.

If Aemond was to be honest with himself, he would have said he enjoyed it. The way your face would get all dreamy, your sighs so sweet, as you progressed on your reading and imagined a love like the ones in your books. Perhaps it had been the reason, in some misguided attempt to appeal to that side of you, he started doing this.

Your second meeting, which you thought had been the first, had not been due to chance. When Aemond was told it was time to marry, the choice came to your family or the Baratheons. He had never been one to protest his duties, no matter how opposed he was to it. But on this, he put forth his own selfish conditions. Aemond would marry you and no one else.

His mother had had to insist to your parents, unwilling to give up their precious daughter in times of political unrest. It was no secret to anybody that upon the death of King Viserys, things could turn ugly. It made your family wary of marrying you to Aemond.

Never before had he cursed his parentage so much. By then, Aemond had not seen you in years, but he knew you were the only choice for him. Kind and unafraid at ten, you could have only grown into a wonder.

And you did. The more he gazed at you, during that second encounter, the more he discovered. Unfortunately, Aemond had not been taught how to speak with maidens, much less one he wanted so badly.

Unused as his lips were to speaking kind words or flowery speech, he found himself in absolute terror of doing or saying the wrong thing. When he had wanted something in the past, he simply commanded it. Aemond was not used to wanting to keep a woman, but he guessed it took more effort than that.

His mother berated him all the way home. In his fear of his words upsetting, he had ended up not saying anything at all.

“You picked her yourself, Aemond, and barely showed excitement over it. The poor girl must think you hate her.”

And you probably did. Aemond could tell that you felt your encounters were awkward, but you slowly started getting used to him. What charmed him the most had been that never once you were afraid.

It ended up becoming a routine. Sort of a play date, but for adults. Set up by your hopeful parents, you would meet each other weekly and sit in silence. Each time, you would walk in with a pep in your step, wearing pretty gowns and smiling.

You would try to engage him in conversation, but he felt too self-conscious for it. It didn't phase you. You suffered through exactly two rounds of awkward conversation before starting to bring books. Sometimes, they were two, one for him and one for you. But his favorite times were when you brought only one and read aloud to him.

You had a very pleasing voice. You pronounced your words carefully, and in an even tone. And you would always ask for his opinions on the chapter when you finished. It made conversation much easier.

Any other woman would feel unhappy at having to go through such efforts. Astoundingly, not you. Overall, you seemed happy, and it puzzled Aemond to no end. Asking you had not proven very enlightening either.

“Of course I am happy.” And you had given him a smile so bright, he was convinced you were not actually your parent's daughter, but rather, the daughter of some old god of the light. “We are a good match. We like books. And you are a Prince, good with the sword, and very learned. Why wouldn't I be happy?”

Practical. No matter how romantic the books you read, or how magic the stories you enjoyed, your answer had been purely practical. You deserved more. A loud love story, like the ones in your books, and not a quiet life, spent in the shadows of a man who could barely pay her a compliment.

You gave a little spin, awed at the way your skirt moved and spread. It was the softest cloth you had ever felt, in cream and gold. Queen Alicent had gifted it to you along with many other pieces for your trousseau. You were to marry a Prince, and so, no expense was spared in updating your garments and linens.

What an honor it was, to have such a caring mother-in-law. Having witnessed the poor relationship between your mother and grandmother, you were thrilled over it. You had heard Queen Alicent had asked for you specifically, believing your temper to be a good match for her son. Since the announcement of the betrothal, she had been nothing but doting, if a bit overly worried about his treatment of you.

And Prince Aemond. You truly had no complaints. He was a tad too stoic for your liking, but he was never unkind to you. Despite the rumors about his fearsome character, you had found him to be very handsome.

Your first impression of Aemond was that he was tall. He was all long vertical lines in black and white. A study in contrasts, if you wish. One that, were you an artist, would have your hands itching for some coal. The only pop of color was his eye, a pale blue that shone on his handsome face.

He lacked the boyishly handsome features most men your age had. Instead, much like art, he was divisive. The eye patch that should lessen his appearance, only contributed to his uniqueness. There was something in the way he smiled, too. Something that hinted to something darker, dormant under the surface.

It was both attractive and intimidating. His stoic, aloof nature reminded you a lot of the leading men of the books you read. Your knowledge of that sort of man, through literature and observation, hinted to you that your betrothed must be more than met the eye.

What sort of passions and secrets must be hiding under his cool facade? You could not wait to find out. You imagined growing old with him, slowly learning his secrets and tells, just like your mother had done with your father.

The story of your parents' betrothal and marriage was one you knew well. As a child, you asked to hear it every night before bed. Your mother had been engaged to him being quite young, while he was already a man. He had been patient with her, but not very affectionate. Slowly, she had worn down his defenses, and gained his trust. It had taken years, with your father being a very gruff man. But they were the most loving couple you had ever met.

You yearned for something like that. A love that was built on mutual respect and trust, something that grew with you and filled your house with children and laughter. And with Aemond, you could not help but think that it would be possible. Wasn't he, too, a cold man who treated his bride kindly but never with affection?

You smiled at your reflection. You made a lovely bride if you said so yourself. Eyes full of hopes and expectations for your future marriage and the family that you would soon start, face glowing in happiness. One day, you said to yourself, as your Lord Father came to escort you towards the Sept, I will tell this story to my daughter.

Prince Aemond waited for you at the altar. It was a small gathering, your wedding. There were his siblings, mother, and grandfather and your parents. Your stomach tightened up in nervousness and excitement. You hoped he found you as beautiful as you found him.

When his eyes met yours, he gave you a small little smile. Secret, and barely there. You felt tears starting to well up in your eyes. You were so nervous, but so happy. This was the beginning of your new life, you could feel it.

You finally reached him. Aemond seemed startled at your tears, his hands coming to clasp yours almost in instinct. You gave him a bright smile. How kind, your betrothed was. He might have trouble expressing it, but for this, no words were needed.

You could see your nerves reflected on his face. Your hands squeezed harder. Aemond mimicked the gesture. There was a sense of understatement there that had previously been absent from your encounters. During the whole ceremony, neither of you let go or stopped looking at the other. As he leaned in to kiss you, you met him halfway.

This kiss had featured in your dreams for quite a while. As a young girl, when your lessons with your Septa got particularly boring, you daydreamed about the day you would marry. In your head, it was always perfect, and the kiss felt magical. You were a bit embarrassed to admit it, but once you met Aemond, your daydreams turned a bit less innocent.

The kiss fulfilled one of your fantasies, and left the other lacking. Aemond gently cradled your face in his hands and kissed you, very tenderly. His lips felt slightly dry, but he kept his motions gentle and sweet. It was a perfect as your childhood self had imagined, with the guests even clapping at the end. Unfortunately, it was just as innocent.

Considering that, and the fact that Aemond had demanded there not to be a bedding ceremony, you had correctly guessed your wedding night would be spent on your own.

The consummation of your marriage would be a challenge in itself. Aemond didn’t seem too keen on touching you with a ten-foot pole, and you weren’t sure of how one should bring up the topic.

Despite it, you were happy. Your only task was hanging on his arm at important feasts, which were few and far in between. His father’s declining health meant there was little to celebrate.

Your days often went without even seeing your husband, but you were never lonely. There were gardens to be walked, and books to be read. There were even tiny, blonde children, that you could chase around in the gardens and tickle. They were not yours, but Princess Helaena's and Prince Aegon's, yet they shared the striking silver hair your husband had. Looking at them, tiny sticky hands and still smelling like babies, you could imagine the future with your husband.

You could spend hours playing with them, or having tea with the Queen. You enjoyed trailing after her, she was always very kind. Frequently, you wondered how she and Aemond could be so alike yet so different.

The only thing that broke your routine were the times Aemond requested your presence.

“Milady.” Your handmaid said, stepping lightly inside your chambers. “The Prince has requested that you go to him.”

Instantly, dread and excitement pooled in your stomach. As a young lady, you were both fearful of the act and excited by it. Too often, you had heard it was something hurtful, but that it marked the change into womanhood. When Aemond called, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the night he made you a woman.

You rushed to take out a nightshirt from your trousseau. You had separated them into three categories. There were ones that you wore nightly, others that were slightly bigger that were saved for an eventual pregnancy, and the ones that were for Aemond. Those were the prettier ones that your Lady Mother had purchased to help you entice your husband.

It was always one of the latter that was chosen. You hated not being prepared, so you always made sure to look pretty and be clean. Just in case. It had not happened yet, but it didn't mean it never would.

Your handmaid aided you to put your robe on, followed by your slippers and a thick cloak. The Red Keep, despite being inhabited by dragons, was always cold. Your handmaid always walked you to his chambers, and this night was not the exception.

She left you at his door, after you were announced. Aemond himself opened his door, welcoming you inside.

You had gotten better at not staring at him. Despite his state of undress, in only sleep pants and his hair down for once, he was a delight for the eyes.

“My lady.” He kissed your cheek. The door closed after you. He aided you out of your cloak. “I was hoping you would read for me tonight.”

You tried not to let your disappointment show on your face. Aemond, as if sensing your mood, merely shoved a book in your hands. He didn’t even offer you a seat, but you took one on the bed anyway. By the weight of the book, you would be here a while.

“On a far away land, whose name I am unable to recall…” Aemond settled down on the bed next to you, eye closed. You didn’t understand why he did this sort of thing, but you weren’t bothered by it either. It was a small price to pay for all the luxuries you got to enjoy.

Despite ending up with a sore throat, it was fun too. He picked the books now, in a stark contrast to the days when you had been a couple courting. And as a man, Aemond had access to many more books than you had. You had recently started making your way through some chivalry tales, with a lot more blood than you were used to.

It was enough for you. Perhaps he was not very affectionate, but he clearly enjoyed your company. Why else would he keep summoning for something as menial as reading books?

You settled into a comfortable routine, grounded by the rhythms of court life. For a while, everything was extraordinarily normal. It was not until you were three months into marriage with the Prince that things started to get weird.

It was the ninth day of the tenth moon of the year, and the date felt slightly ominous. There was a restless energy in the air, something unusual. Perhaps, it was you. As of late, you had been feeling a bit blue. The lack of letters from your family and the twins starting their lessons had left you with more spare time than you thought you would have.

Deciding to go have a bath to try to shake that restless energy from you, you headed toward your rooms. When you entered, the first thing you noticed was the smell. It was strong and floral like, permeating the surrounding air. Your maids used sweeter smells for your rooms, on the Queen’s advice. They were the sort of smells that Aemond favored, and so, she had hoped surrounding you with them would endear you to him.

Then, you saw them. It was a big bouquet of violets, laying on top of your bed. Delighted, you ran towards them. You were unable to resist the urge to smell them, breathing in their scent. This close, you noticed they were slightly bluer, closer to dark blue than purple.

You toyed with their petals, wondering where they could have come from. Perhaps your husband? Aemond was not very inclined towards romantic gestures, but there was no other explanation for it.

You were nearly bursting in excitement to see him. The flowers had been such a kind gesture, you could not help but feel a wave of affection. But no matter how much you wished for it, you had seen nor hide nor hair of Aemond.

Denying it was stupid on his part. Aemond will not protest against it. But what else could have he done? He had panicked. It's not like he meant to do so.

His mother held a weekly meal with all her children, and had taken to including you. Having often berated him about his treatment of you, it was not surprising that she had decided to take you under her wing.

Aemond did feel a bit guilty over his own coldness, but he wasn't really sure how he ought to behave. Apart from his sister and uncle, he had not seen many loving pairs during his life, and anyone would agree that Rhaenyra and Daemon should never be held up as examples of anything.

You were lonely, as of late. The twins had gotten old enough for lessons, and so, they had limited time to play with you in the gardens. You were far enough from home that the letters took a few days to reach you, too. As a young woman, almost too young to be forced to leave everything you knew behind, isolation must have been taking its toll.

Let's not forget you were not only two years his junior, but also a woman. You were of a fragile disposition, with your constant daydreaming and romantic thoughts. Aemond ought to have been paying more attention, but his mind had been busy elsewhere.

His father looked more and more close to death with each day that passed. His grandisre was constantly plotting. Without needing to be a seer, Aemond knew that things were not looking good. There would not be a peaceful reign for Rhaenyra.

He had been so caught up on his worries and duties, that Aemond had forgotten to take care of his woman. Aemond had not summoned you to his rooms that week, too wired to project the calm you would need in the days that would come. You would not do well if a war broke out.

Aemond had been quite lacking on his duty of taking care of you. Pretty little flower that you were, he could almost see you starting to wilt. You spent more time indoors, and stopped your daily walks in the gardens.

Despite fairness being regarded as a desirable trait for a lady, Aemond did not like the way your skin had lost its sun kissed glow. It just didn't fit you. Blue was more of his thing than yours, gorgeous golden woman that you were.

Hence, the flowers. Choosing the violets was an impulse. Aemond liked the colors and the smell was tolerable yet distinctive. He would know immediately when you received them, being able to smell them on your hair and clothes.

Sweet natured as you were, you had thanked him for them. The fact that you had liked them and associated them with him had been enough to warm his heart. The fact that you had decided to do so during the dinner with his siblings, enough to stomp on it.

It had not been quiet enough.

“Aemond?” Aegon frowned. “Aemond gave you flowers?”

Knowing his brother as he did, Aemond knew he was struggling hard to contain his laughter. He had been the butt of the joke too many times to confirm or deny anything. He would rather not be embarrassed in front of you.

But in truth, the idea of being weak, of being mocked, was not one that scared him. He had been humiliated many times during his childhood. What bothered him more was the thought of his feelings for you being exposed in such a manner. He was not prone to sudden bursts of affection, or doing thoughtful things for those he loved.

Aemond preferred to love in silence. There was no need for grandiloquence, or big gestures. Marriage was a sacred thing, between husband and wife. It was not something that had to be shared loudly. His love was spoken quietly, in the same way he had been taught to.

His mother loved quietly. His grandsire did, too. Their eyes spoke when their lips did not, their love a discordance with the words out of their mouths. Aemond had grown like that, loved but never told, learning it as a secret language that tied them all.

The flowers, though. The flowers had been a betrayal of their code. Something they would not understand because while everyone in the Red Keep was fluent in the art of loving and not saying a word, you were not. You were a foreigner, with your tales of romance and princess from a far away land.

This had been Aemond, clumsily speaking your language. Shy about it, as many people were when speaking one that was not theirs for the first time. It was hard. It was private, and certainly not something he wanted to be outed in front of Aegon, who would not know love for his wife if it hit him in the face.

His expression must have been deadly because Aegon had started squirming on his seat like his pants were on fire. Your face had fallen, turning into a terrible, sad thing, that made something funny to his heart.

“It wasn’t you. Of course.” Your voice was softer still. Aemond continued eating his dinner without a word. Because really, what could he say? Anything that he did now would be mocked by Aegon.

The way your face had fallen, brows pinching together in a sad little frown, had haunted him later. He wanted to fix things, but was unsure how. You were not used to his brusque manner and speech. Aemond felt it might do more harm than good, if he were to speak with you. He might end up offending you more without noticing.

Besides, how did one even start to explain that he had denied tacitly to gifting you flowers fearing not being understood and mocked? He would sound like a fool.

Instead, he had penned you a note. Instead of apologizing, Aemond had hoped to butter you up with a few compliments. You must have realized it, then, because you had walked the whole day as if floating in a cloud.

Come the ninth day of the next moon, you had nearly forgotten all about the incident. You had thrown away the flowers before they even had a chance to wilt, and the note had been burned to a crisp in your fireplace. You had convinced yourself having a secret admirer was improper for a married woman, and refused to give it more thought.

It was a bit strange, that your husband was not angered by it. Yet, at the same time, you supposed he was thankful for your discretion over the entire affair. Aemond was very sensible and smart, so it was logical he wouldn't blame you.

Aemond had kept summoning you to his chambers, be either for you to read to him or just to sit in silence. Your happiness persisted. Until your breakfast’s tray was set on your vanity.

You noticed it when you were sipping at your tea. Groggily, and confused, you found a piece of paper under your napkin. On a neat handwriting, there was a quote from one of the poetry books you favored.

You gave a tiny gasp. Your hands clenched on the paper, your cheeks heating up. The penmanship was not one you recognized, but the words made your knees nearly buckle. No one had written you sonnets before.

Ninth day, you realize. Same as the flowers. If not your husband, then who? The idea of the secret admirer came back, stronger this time. The dates could not be a coincidence, this had to be the same person. Ninth day of the ninth moon, then ninth day of the ten.

You started over analyzing each interaction you had with men. When the knights opened the doors for you, your eyes would linger on theirs. When a Lord would greet you, you would try to remind if he had something to do with violets.

You found yourself daydreaming of this man. Would he be an older man? Would he be prone to smiling, or would he share the stoic nature of your Prince? How would his hands feel on your skin? All the daydreaming made you feel guilty, for fantasizing about a man who was not your husband. Yet, at the same time, you knew that you would not act on it. You loved Aemond too much.

It was flattering, to be wanted in such a manner. You liked the idea of it because it was different from the love you were used to. But you would rather not meet the admirer, knowing you would have to reject him. You enjoyed the attention, not the person it came from.

There was only one person in Westeros that you wished would lavish you with attention and love. And you knew already he was not your secret admirer.

Secretly, sometimes, you thought of telling Aemond. What would his reaction be? The thought made butterflies flutter in your stomach. Would he get jealous? Would he turn more affectionate? You imagined he would want to claim you in some way.

Alone, at night, you pictured his eye, narrowed in anger. Those hands, gripping harshly at your hips, leaving bruises. His body over yours, his lips on your throat, your chest, your stomach. Your hands would follow the path that the imaginary Aemond's hands would take, caressing and groping until they reached their destination. You would arouse and tease yourself until you reached your peak, a scream of his name dying in your throat.

The wondering does not last to meet a third moon. No, because King Viserys passes away and Prince Aegon is crowned King. The whole Red Keep is in a state of disarray, and you feel oddly fearful, watching the constant movement the family seems to be in.

Even Queen Alicent, usually so kind and calm, is on edge. She seems on the verge of a neurotic episode, pacing frantically around the halls, muttering to herself. You can't help but feel something bad is about to happen.

Your husband is in a terrible mood. He seems to have a constant headache, and so, you have taken to being even more kind to him. Some nights, he will summon you to his chambers. He keeps asking you to read to him, but you can tell his mind is far away.

You try grounding him, placing your hand on his thigh or shoulder every chance you get. If you were more confident, you would try something more bold. Aemond seems to enjoy your touch, but he doesn't encourage you to do it. His face remains unmoved, and he keeps telling you to keep reading.

His only tell is that he always reciprocates. If your hand is on his shoulder, his goes to your hip. If you touch his back, Aemond caresses your hair.

It leaves you feeling a bit out of balance. It's entirely innocent, as if you were two children discovering love. Yet at the same time, you can't help but feel like you are burning up in your need for him.

He starts requesting for you to stay the night with him. Aemond never touches you beyond holding you to him, body pressed close to yours in a long, vertical line. Sometimes, you wake up to his manhood prodding you from behind, but he promptly excuses himself out of the bed you share. It makes your thighs clench up in need.

It's unbearable. You feel like you are going insane, your center pulsating in need each time you are near him. The simplest touches can set you on fire. You decide to be bolder, soon. You can't keep this state of affairs.

Before you can explore this new side of your connection, Aemond is pulled away. A mission for the King, he explains. You stay behind, feeling restless. Not having been told what his mission involved, nor where he was going, you can't help but worry. Aemond had taken Vhagar, and that, at least, gives you a slight sense of safety. You were familiar enough with his mount to know she could be his fiercest protector if she felt someone was threatening.

You spend your hours praying for his safe return, along with the Queen. While not part of the Small Council formed around Aegon, but you imagine quite well what they discussed. Alicent is as scared as you are.

You go to bed late that night. With Aemond away, you can't sleep, already used to his body pressing against yours. You had hoped exhaustion would help you overcome that problem.

It's even later when heavy footsteps and the slamming of a door rise you. In the dark, you can barely make out a silhouette. A tall man, holding a dagger.

You scream. The man grabs you roughly by the shoulders and pushes you to lay down on the bed. This close, you can feel that his clothes are strangely humid, as if dried in a rush. You had not considered it before, but the letters and violets do not seem so romantic anymore. Instead, they scare you. You find yourself faced with the possibility that this man might this be your secret admirer. Has he felt encouraged by your happiness? Is he dangerous?

There is a heavy candleholder on your nightstand. You reach for it in the dark, and swing at his head. The man yelps. You start to struggle against him. His tone is familiar to you.

“Seven Hells.” He curses. It's then that it hits you. This is Aemond. Aemond is back. You don't get to rejoice on it, or pull him to you, though. He keeps speaking, in a confused tone. “You… I… I made a mistake.”

Aemond gets up and away from you. His clothes still reek of humidity and sadness. You remain there, laying on your stomach, as you feel an uncontrollable urge to cry. There is something inside you that has been rattled until it broke, something that tells you that this Aemond is not your Aemond.

The next morning, you find out he has killed Lucerys Velaryon. Instead of going to his mother or grandsire, he had come straight for you. Aemond had been trying to forget on your skin, lose himself in you.

When you see the violets covering every inch of your room, bouquets over your bed, on your vanity and even the windowsill, your eyes sting. It's bittersweet to realize that, now that you look at them, their color is surprisingly close to a sapphire.

.

.

.

.

.

.

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Dividers by yours truly. Por supuesto que la canción era Ramito de Violetas. Grande Zalo Reyes.

[tsams-and-co-memes]

Frank is Pisces

I made a thread for this theory on TSBS Discord server and it blew up (it blew up so much more than I ever thought it would, like Jesus Christ. I'm super happy about it though). I figured that since I moved all my canon info stuff over here from the server, I might as well move my theory stuff over too

Long post warning, since there's a lot here. A lot of this exists because I was possessed by my adhd demon one night, noticed something about Frank, and then ran wild with it

(Last two pictures are part of a chart that SqarletGecko made for this theory. If Sqarlet sees this at any point, hi, hello! I appreciate you for feeding into this, Sqarlet)

There will be more images tacked on later. I'd add them now, but unfortunately, there's a 10 picture limit to posts. As stupid as that is. ANYWAY

Frank’s strong enough to kill two different witherstorms. Although him outright killing them was never verified, it was one of the only ways he could’ve come back so soon. The only other way would’ve been to wait by the portal, but assuming Moon would’ve closed it off due to the dimensions that Frank was in housing witherstorms, Frank would’ve had to find another way out

His name is neither Frank nor Forkface, so it’s entirely possible that it could be Pisces

Sqarlet pointed out that Castor said “Pisces is probably off doing his own thing”, which could be anything, and it certainly doesn’t preclude Pisces being on earth as Frank, doing whatever he’s been doing

In the “Lunar Gets Friendzoned” vrchat episode, Castor mentions Pisces again, this time saying (in reference to how Lunar’s “final test” would go, and how someone would be sent to judge his ability to control his powers) “Could be Nebula, could be Libra. Could be Pisces, but I doubt that. Hell, it could even be Taurus.” This is the second time Castor’s mentioned Pisces, as if he doesn’t have a whopping 10 other signs he could pull names from (minus Gemini and Pisces, obviously). This could be a case of simply sticking to a smaller pool out of the 12 names, but still

Castor has mentioned Pisces offhandedly two different times. Yeah, there could be a really simple explanation for that, but it sticks out to me, and I can't pinpoint why

During an Uno video, they did a “one breath for yes, two for no” thing with Frank, and he confirmed that he had a bad past. Given some of the things that Castor has said about Taurus, it’s a possibility that Frank/Pisces was trying to get away from him. Some other Pisces traits are that they’re supposed to be super empathetic and deeply emotional. If Taurus said or did something that impacted Frank/Pisces enough, he could’ve chosen to leave

For a while, Frank didn’t seem to react much when people acted scared of him, but as he’s spent more time with the channels, he’s developing more emotionally, which would make sense if he was younger. According to a google search I ran, “Pisces emotional sensitivity is high, helping them to remain in tune with others also leaving them vulnerable to criticism, worrying about about the effects that their actions might have on others,” which could explain why he acted so sad when he briefly appeared in the lobby in an FFFS episode and everyone acted scared of him

Pisces has a heightened emotional sensitivity, they're very in tune with the emotions of those around them, and this in turn makes them worry about how others might react to them

In another Uno video, Foxy made a lighthearted comment to Frank about how he reminded him of his son, since he has a habit of inserting himself into situations and things. There are other characters who do this too, meaning that Foxy could’ve compared Frank to literally anyone, and yet, he chose a character that’s a child. If Frank is Pisces, he’d be the youngest of the astral bodies

If you watch him, Frank does have some childlike mannerisms and behaviors. The first thing is the way he sometimes wants to show someone something, but then gets upset when they touch it. It’s like when a kid gets a new toy and shows their friend, but then gets upset when their friends tries playing with it because it’s theirs. The second thing is him apparently drawing on the wall underneath Earth’s bed. Drawing on walls is something that kids do. The third thing is him trying to feed Earth a piece of pizza. Kids will sometimes try to feed people too, though it’s typically only with people they’re close with, that they know pretty well

If Frank is Pisces and therefore the youngest of the astral bodies, there’s a chance that he chose to show up in the daycare because he knows it’s a safe place for kids, and that there are good caretakers there (Sun, Moon, Earth, and Lunar). He could’ve chosen a daycare attendant-esque form to blend in better with the daycare environment, or he could’ve copied what he saw of the caretakers there, much like how kids copy the adults they see

Pisces is the youngest of the astral bodies, so everything that Frank does that seems like something a kid might do,, could sort of tie in with that. Frank has seemed to somewhat mature and "grow up" in a sense as of recently though, so these childlike habits and behaviors have begun to become rarer and rarer

Pisces has ties to illusions, dreams, and the subconscious. This could explain the times when Frank appeared in both Monty and Earth’s dreams, and then dragged the Stitchwraith into his own mind. In the case of Monty’s dream, Frank knew that they’d had problems with their dad and he’d even offered to be their listening ear, so seeing the shape Monty was in emotionally and mentally after their dad died, Frank may have guided them to an image of their dad to try to promote a form of closure and emotional healing and recovery before Monty woke up (did I mention that being a healer is also a Pisces trait?). He was silent in the dream, so Monty’s mind couldn't have heard his signature heavy breathing and did something funky with that. In Earth’s case, Frank somehow knew that she was having a nightmare and he came to wake her up, repeatedly saying “no fear”, as if he was telling her not to be afraid. With the Stitchwraith, the Stitchwraith wasn’t aware that he’d been pulled into his own mind. Frank didn’t confirm that he was until he told the Stitchwraith that “It’s just a bad dream, a nightmare”, and told him to wake up

More Pisces traits are wanting to help people and being a healer. Adding in the ties to illusions, dreams, and the subconscious, I feel like creating dreams to help people recover from things wouldn't be too farfetched. In the case of Earth, Frank knew she was having a nightmare and wanted to wake her up so that she wouldn't be scared anymore. To this day, I have no way to explain how he could've possibly known about her having a nightmare, aside from sensing her distress and/or having some kind of connection to her subconscious

I found a snippet of an article that said “When we meet Pisces, we are taken aback by their remote coldness; they often act like confused geniuses or oddballs who have trouble interacting with others.” It’s confirmed that Frank is highly intelligent; he somehow knew how to get into Moon’s computer and registered himself as the primary user, and he somehow swiped Foxy’s voicebox and installed it in himself, then took it back out and reinstalled it in Foxy. Frank is also an oddball, but I don’t really need to explain that one

Frank has made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t like Ruin. He’s had many opportunities to take him out or even just attack him, but he hasn’t. Castor has stated that astral bodies typically don’t get involved with things or associate with people unless they really need to. If Frank is Pisces, he may have avoided going after Ruin because it’d go against the rules

There are some mixed messages on whether or not Pisces is a rule follower, but a couple things I found that stuck out to me implied that sometimes they follow the rules, and sometimes they do whatever they want as long as they’re satisfied. We were given a glimpse of this with Frank when Lunar tried to run him over with a car in a vrchat episode. Frank didn’t seem to care as much about the fact that he was nearly run over, and instead, became agitated with Lunar for parking incorrectly. He also made Lunar get in his car, and then proceeded to move it out of the alley and to the drive thru, where Lunar was supposed to be anyways. He might’ve also reacted poorly to Monty and Earth bringing a goose into the restaurant they were in, since animals don’t belong there. Beyond that, Frank’s also gotten upset with Sun and tried to menacingly follow him around the room when Sun cheated during a game of Uno, showing that he doesn’t like cheaters

Frank seems to have a knack for interrupting people’s dates. Most of the time, he’s trying to help but doesn’t seem to grasp that his behavior might be making people uncomfortable, BUT according to google, the Pisces sign is known for being jealous of other people’s love lives. After the death of Ruined Monty, Frank may have started to feel a little jealous of others

According to google, “most Pisceans are very good at earning a stable living,” and “they are usually very effective in any career that needs collaboration with others or inventiveness.” It’s been stated before that Frank works in at least three different restaurants, and a restaurant type environment would require collaboration with others to keep everything running smoothly. He’d be earning good money from those three restaurant jobs, and another Pisces trait is wanting to help people, so working in a restaurant would be a way for him to do that

Strengths of Pisces would include being selfless and thoughtful, passionate and creative, gratitude and self-sacrifice, tolerance and a keen understanding, and being kind and sympathetic. Weaknesses of Pisces include being influenced by their surroundings, being careless, rash, and ill-disciplined, having an inability to confront reality due to an absence of confidence, being insecure, sentimentalism, indecisiveness, and a lack of foresight. These are all from a chart I found, and although I don’t think we’ve seen too many of these weaknesses in Frank yet, we’ve definitely seen a lot of the strengths

We have no idea where Frank was before he first showed up at the daycare. Fazbear apparently had him shipped in to replace Moon, but with how easily he got into Moon’s computer, it wouldn’t be too farfetched to assume that he could’ve possibly also hopped onto a different device and sent a fake email, posing as Fazbears to keep people from asking too many questions about why he’s there

Like Sqarlet has said, we’ve noticed a pattern of astral signs following the usual astrological descriptions, but it’s not necessarily a rule, nor is it to a T. It’s very possible that Frank mostly follows the general tendencies of Pisces, but still has individual quirks and such that are different. It could be a case where perfectionism or a preference for rule-following/organization is just a lil personal thing of his, unrelated to astrology

Another thing suggested by Sqarlet is that the Pisces dealio might explain why Frank’s general choice of appearance is generally uncanny/unsettling. Astral bodies don’t necessarily have a spectacular grasp on how to Aesthetic effectively, at least from an earthling’s perspective

Eclipse once used star power to get into Puppet’s dreamscape, when Puppet was on his way to get Lunar. If star power is what makes dreamscape stuff possible, then Frank would need access to it in order to do the same (see: all the dream stuff he did with Monty and him showing up in Stitchwraith’s dreamscape)

Whenever Frank appears, whoever he appears around is usually experiencing a negative emotion of some sort. Some instances of this can be seen when he showed up and tried to talk to Monty after Monty had a fight with their dad and was frustrated, when Earth and Sun were worrying about Lunar when Lunar lost his voice, when Sun got turned into a dragon and was panicking, and when Earth had a nightmare and was freaking out over it

Foxy’s implied that Frank was probably trying his best to be helpful, during all the dates that he unintentionally ruined. Which… means that although Frank is trying his best to be helpful, he might not understand what “normal” behavior looks like, then he messes up, and then he gets upset when people misunderstand him and his intentions, or when whatever he’s doing ends up backfiring in some way. Pisces’ loves to help others and can’t stand being misunderstood, so this lines up beautifully

During a podcast episode, Frank breathed heavier when Castor and Pollux were mentioned, implying that he may know them. Given how he even attempted to speak again, he likely had some kind of thoughts or feelings toward them, too

The astral bodies are typically aware of almost everything that happens. This might explain how Frank (if he’s Pisces) knew that Foxy would be alone on Christmas. It was only Foxy, Freddy, and Francine present when the Stitchwraith took FC, so unless Frank was spying on everyone or has taken to watching the channels like Ruin apparently does, he shouldn’t know what happened

If the Foxy’s Intervention episode is anything to go by, no one ever knows where Frank is, and yet, he still knows where he’s needed and goes there to help

With the way that Pisces deals with illusions just as much as dreams and the subconscious, it’s possible that the Frank that the Stitchwaith saw was just an illusion. This could explain why Frank wasn’t hit by Stitchwraith’s weird chest laser thing (unless he quickly teleported out of the way), and why we never saw him go up to the Stithwraith and try pushing him around or anything, despite how Frank was acting toward him. We’ve seen Frank physically interact with people before, so we know he can, but if he was an illusion, that wouldn’t be possible

Something else to consider that I haven't shared with the theory thread yet (that I can remember) is that when Pisces feels hurt or betrayed in any way, they can be incredibly vengeful. Their vengeance, according to a search I ran, could be intense enough to break trust and damage relationships, if they're not careful. In killing ruined Monty, Bloodmoon may have unknowingly made Frank feel so deeply hurt that Frank has now decided that he needs to get revenge on him. He kept saying things during their encounter that made it feel like he may be entertaining the idea of getting rid of one of the twins, which... follows a very "you took away someone who meant the world to me, let's see what happens when I do it to you" sort of logic

[tobiasdrake]

Can you elaborate on the broly cheelai leemo dynamic? I could see what they were going for but thought it seemed a little underdeveloped

It's definitely underdeveloped but for what we get in the film, it works for me.

On their own, what makes Cheelai and Lemo interesting is that we rarely get to see rank-and-file Planet Trade forces. We've gotten to know Saiyans and their mutant elites, but ordinary Frieza Force troops are rarely in focus.

So far as the writing goes, Lemo is basically a purse for Cheelai; He goes where she goes. She's the one that drives the plot of DBS: Broly. An irreverent car thief who stole a cop car and then got ID'd by the police. She didn't really join the Frieza Force; She's using Frieza as a shield.

This woman gives zero fucks.

She's right, too. As Jaco: The Galactic Patrolman clearly established, there's a limit to how much Galactic Patrol can interfere with Frieza's operations. Capitalism is far more powerful than law enforcement.

In any case, this makes Cheelai an interesting figure in the whole conflict. She's not so much with Frieza as she is a wild card in the mix. She's scrappy; She goes where she will, does what she wants, and problem-solves her way out of the trouble she lands herself in through whatever means are available, even if they're unconventional. That's a good setup for a protagonist.

And make no mistake: Cheelai, Lemo, and Broly are the protagonists of this film. In much the same way that Infinity War is more Thanos's film than anyone else's, this is their movie, without a doubt.

For his part, Lemo's an old-timer with the organization. One thing I really like that this movie does is acknowledge that an organization like the Planet Trade requires the existence of staff beyond the direct military. We even see it with the Saiyans, as this same film introduces us to the Saiyan mechanic Beets.

Like Goku's chef of a mom Gine, Beets exists to demonstrate the existence of Saiyan infrastructure. Saiyans may be the most powerful race in the universe but even a warrior race needs bread-making Saiyans and mechanic Saiyans and stuff.

The same is true of Lemo. By his own admission, he's been with the Frieza Force for a long time but he is not a soldier. And, y'know, neither is Cheelai; She's a car thief in hiding.

Leemo's main job is to be Cheelai's sounding board, and to Me Too Me Too every choice she makes with Broly. This serves the purpose of keeping Broly and Cheelai's dynamic from seeming romantic. They're certainly shippable, of course, but the film never crosses that line of making them a canon ship.

This is good because actively trying to thrust Broly into a romantic relationship with the first non-parent person he ever met would seem unbelievably predatory and kill the sweet vibe of their dynamic. Cheelai is not here to be a Love Interest, so the film uses Leemo as a chaperone to keep their scenes from coming across like she is.

They're out here scouting the universe for recruits to join the Frieza Force but having difficulty finding people who can meet the standard requirements for enlisting in the main army. Until they go to pick up Paragus's distress signal and stumble upon the jackpot of their lives.

Once we get the Dragon Ball Minus portion of the film out of the way, so much of the first act is just setting up and developing the chemistry between Broly and Cheelai.

This is the first conversation Broly has ever had with someone who wasn't his abusive father in his entire life.

When they introduce Broly to Frieza and we get an explanation of his tendencies, the animation on Broly is so good.

Paragus explains that he cut off Broly's tail because Broly would lose his mind whenever he became the Oozaru, and lets slip that Broly still sometimes loses his mind and becomes wild and unstable. When Frieza naturally takes issue with such a person being on his ship, Paragus quickly clarifies that he has Broly under control.

As he removes the controller to Broly's shock collar from his pouch, we get to see Broly's eyes go wide with fear, and then he starts grasping at the collar and pulling at it in panic. Pure Pavlovian terror just at the sight of the remote.

With the scene calling attention then to Cheelai and Lemo, horrified by what they're both seeing and hearing.

"It is not a strong current," Paragus assures Frieza while Broly is having a full-blown panic attack behind him.

Lemo and Cheelai collect a very generous payment for finding Broly. We have no idea how galactic currency works but they both react like "OH MY GOD SO MUCH CASH" so we can assume this is a lot of, uh, cosmic cigar cases or whatever.

Admittedly, the "Lady asked you to leave her alone" cliche where the likable male protagonist beats up an asshole harassing the likable female protagonist at the bar is pretty old and tired at this point. But I will note two things I like about this scene:

1 - That Broly isn't the one who escalates. He's not the one who started this fight. Lemo tries to intervene first, attempting de-escalation by offering to buy the thug a drink. It's only after the thug gets violent and decks Lemo that Broly then steps in.

2 - And also, the main point of development that Cheelai, Lemo, and Broly have isn't "Broly stepped up to defend Cheelai". This is just a mechanism for bridging the gap between the important stuff. That is, Cheelai seeing how controlling Paragus is....

And Cheelai getting to see for herself what the "mild current" of Broly's collar looks like in action.

God, if the visuals of Broly writhing around in pure agony don't make you feel for the guy, the sound of him screaming bloody murder for like fifteen seconds straight sure will.

Paragus declares that he had to do it because Broly would have killed that guy if he hadn't. Cheelai retorts by calling Paragus's parenting into question which. Like. Yeah.

We tend to just kinda take Paragus's word for it that Broly's a raging uncontrollable beast purely by nature and it has nothing to do with his failings as a dad. "That's just how the boy is, nothing to be done about it, gotta torture my kid," says the father who tortures his kid while also weaponizing him for personal gain. Why are we trusting him?

The thing this movie did for Broly that makes it so fascinating is that it asks those kinds of questions. It dares to ask, "What if the abusive father's interpretation of his child is actually full of shit?" It reinvents Broly as a character by condemning Paragus, but doesn't have to condemn Paragus any more than the original Z film already did. All it really does is take away the meta-narrative's vindication of his abuse.

The domineering Paragus barks at Cheelai to stay the hell away from his boy. He doesn't even notice Cop Carjacker Cheelai solving this problem herself.

Fun fact: In this moment, Cheelai kills Paragus.

It's a bit of a walk from here to Paragus's death, when Frieza hysterically murders him in order to motivate Broly to become a Super Saiyan.

But this only occurs because the fight between Broly, Goku, and Vegeta has continued to escalate beyond the point when Paragus would have stopped it. His fate is sealed when he reaches for the remote to stop Broly's fight and finds it missing.

The highlight of their relationship-building is, of course, Broly telling the story of Ba's ear after Leemo introduces him to water for the first time. The heartbreaking tale of the first and only friend he had before these two.

Broly wears Ba's severed ear so that he'll always remember what it felt like when he had a friend. Oh my god. Are you shitting me with this. That is the most heartbreaking thing. How dare you make me want to wrap Broly the Legendary Super Saiyan up in blankets and give him hugs and chocolates.

Broly doesn't even like fighting; His dad forces him to train. Which sure makes it really fucking interesting when Paragus turns around and goes, "I have to use a shock collar because my violent and uncontrollable child is violent and uncontrollable!"

Then, as the fight goes on, we keep checking back in with Cheelai and Leemo to get Cheelai's assessment of what's happening. Cheelai sets the tone for how we should be feeling about Broly's fight with Goku and Vegeta.

I love how, when she says Paragus raised Broly to be "the kind of warrior that he wants him to be," the shot isn't of Broly looking fierce or menacing, or beating down Goku or Vegeta. It's the shock collar. This is the visual expression of what Paragus wanted Broly to be.

And that, in turn, is the tone of Broly's fight with Goku and Vegeta. This isn't awesome, it's tragic. They don't even know. They legit have no idea who this guy is. Frieza showed up with a super cool warrior and went "FIGHT THIS STRONG GUY" and so they're doing that.

They have no idea who he is.

And they're probably going to kill him in this fight.

All of this context is what makes the finale of this movie work so hard. Because this is Cheelai, Leemo, and Broly's movie. Cheelai by this point has been firmly established as an irreverent thief who does whatever she feels like. She has no loyalties to anyone but herself and whoever she cares about, she makes dangerous choices, she's young and impulsive, and she's emotionally invested in the wellbeing of this abused boy who deserves better.

Consequently, the triumphant climax of this film isn't when Gogeta defeats Broly, but when Cheelai fucking robs Frieza to save Broly.

This is the emotional climax of the film, offset against the tragic action climax where Gogeta is utterly destroying our boy in a predictable but heartbreaking fashion. The magic of this movie is that by the end of it, it has you rooting against Goku and Vegeta, and utterly distraught when they pull ahead and find the answer in the third act.

This character relationship is underdeveloped. It could have used a lot more fleshing out, and honestly I would never say no to more of these characters.

But for what we got, I love it. Cheelai and Broly are the best characters that DBS ever came up with, and Leemo's cool too.

[tikvin]

Durge girlies infodump ✨

Eshra

Bard+vengeance paladin (I call it "got her powers out of sheer hate". Also dialogs of those classes are most fitting for her. She's also not classic Bard tho, doesn't have instrument either)

Is one of the most uncanny looking durges, but you only notice if you look at her for more than a moment and think about it more than a minute. The more you look at her the more strange things you start to notice. The streaks on corners of her mouth with time will reveal to be a wide mouth, unhinging jaw. Hair color and eyes that are not natural for drow. Slightly longer limbs, all that.

However she's a very charismatic person and averts the attention from the details easily enough. She's cunning, knows when to observe silently and when to speak. She's not a prying type, but very perceptive of emotions of others.

Eshra is in romance w/ Astarion, and Eshra detected his lies very soon, but kept quiet about it, playing along and waiting to see where it goes.

Eshra doesn't have anything against killing, however the real joy she gets is from killing those who think they are the shit. Bringing down prideful and strong chars to pathetic death (favourably in most dishonouroful way) is quite the delight of her life. She tries to avert her urges from the unreasonable (to anyone sane) targets to someone strong. She's also smart enough to dig for reasons to kill, Kahga being the best example. Eshra had an urge to just watch the little girl die.Fotr the fist time such urge concerned her, the itch of the urge would not stop if she just ignores it, so she redirects it to someone "bad" in the room, that being Kahga. She digs for reasons to kill and does so, without even trying to make Kahga change her mind.

Eshra also at first "saved" Lae'zel only to wait and dig for a reason to kill her. Eshra attacks Minthara almost instantly, because Minthara is smart and quickly notices something isn't right with her, and Eshra feels thretened by Minthara's prying. She would prefer her to stay silent, silent for eternity.

Jericho

Wild magic sorcerer

I headcanon her to be a very masterful before the amnesia and losing the control after, requiring help of Gale to try and control it (and that's how they get married lmao). She actually might have turned a bit dumber after amnesia.

Jericho is the most determined to stop the urges and most disgusted by her deeds among my durges. She's also a bit cowardly when it comes to her past, so she doesn't pry too much into it, afraid of what she might find. She also the one to believe Emperor. She's a bit wary, but doesn't see Orpheus helping them (the mountain pass was skipped on account of lore reasons, absence of Lae'zel, cuz after reading the discs of Orpheus there's just no reason keep Emperor alive. I will be playing again with Lae'Zel present, so Jericho would free Orpheus, cuz she'd trust Lae'Zel. Which one is canon I will decide after)

After the game events she recognizes her cowardice, and now feeling much more secure in loving and peaceful environment, she does her best to research bhaalspawn and everything about it to help prevent tragedies. Also the only girlie who is a bit bummed that she must avoid having biological children, but she's dutiful enough to recognize that responsibility.

Also the softest among durges, maybe because she got hit in the head the hardest lol, the one who truly starts a completely new and different life after the incident.

Oh, and she's 100% sure Tara doesn't like her, if not hate her

Thalissa

Assasin rogue+fighter.

Very much not a real githyanki and avoids actual githyanki, while simultaneously pretending to be one when it's convenient. With her I'm planning multiple play throughs btw, current one is without Lae'Zel, other will be with her and another with her being Tav.

She's also not concerned much with her urges, or her memories ("eh, I'm a rogue, I doubt I had much to care about anyway"). Obnoxiously smart mouthed, nonchalant, sometimes unintentionally rude. "Heh, yea, I'm a swamp elf". She hides her face usually, pretending to be whatever other race people might mistake her for.

Much like Eshra, Thalissa enjoys killing those who are oh so full of themselves

But she also actually enjoys being around "goodie two shoes" characters, because she likes to poke fun and make them just a bit annoyed, also secretly hoping their "goodiness" will rub off on her a bit, to quiet down the bloodlust.

Thalissa as a Tav is still the "chill and easy going gith". A githyanki who escaped strict military life and lives in material plane, because she enjoys it way more, even if often faced with prejudice.

Thana

Monk

Very temperamental, openly rude, but not in an elegant way like drows are usually, more barbarian like actually. She might have a bit of a anger issues and it's relatively easy to set her off.

Not the smartest one, not book wise at least.

Not very concerned for cultural things either. "Blah blah blah, balance, rules, boooring, are we fighting or what?"

She is also the one who gets concerned only when her urges start targeting children, but brush them off to kid being annoying and the urge being an intrusive thought. She genuinely tries to be "the friendly drow", but the moment she hears something rude with "you're a drow" reasoning she just can't keep her tongue back, which then doesn't help her making her case lol. You get approximately 3 sentences to make her like you, cus that how long it takes for her to decide (however, in certain cases she might get mad that you don't like her and make it her mission to make you her friend)

She's also not too concerned about memory loss, she undermines her "condition" until it takes grave turn, then she's scared, but too prideful to admit it, until, yet again, it gets in dangerous area (act 2)

That would be it for now, just a bit of general info about the girlies. If you have your favorite, feel free to ask about them, I'd love to answer, I've been keeping the lore for a long time

[waffletheorist]

So, in Part 2 of Masks, if you translate the Sheikah text from the Slate, it says "Someone will die." So, what does this mean? If we go by loophole logic or what I sometimes call PJO logic for prophecies, it has been fulfilled by Twilight's experience, or can be fulfilled by someone dying, and then being revived by other means, such as a doll, fairy, Mipha's Grace, or a different revival method.

The problem arises when we consider that we don't know on which logic this prophecy runs on. Can it be escaped by a loophole? Or is it infallible? Does the death have to be permanent?

If the death does have to be permanent, then it's most likely to be a side character, because, most of the chain has some reason to survive. The issue with prophecies like this is you never know when they've been fulfilled.

Time: Twilight is living proof he lives for a bit longer after this.

Hyrule: According to the guidebook, he has the "gift of tongues", and is destined to be a great king. So, he could potentially die of the guidebook isn't considered canon. It would also add the blood curse plot point.

Wild: TotK.

Legend: If we go by game logic, there are actually two Legends, and one is the descendant of the other, although they've been combined into one character for the sake of the comic. There's also the possibility Hyrule is his descendant. So, overall, like Hyrule, he has a reason to live, but it depends on what Jojo considers canon.

Sky: The whole royal bloodline.

Four: Temple of the Four Sword in ALttP. It's a sad ending, and although it could potentially occur on this adventure, it's highly unlikely.

Wind: Founding of the second Kingdom of Hyrule with Tetra, and it's doubtful that out of all of them, the kid will die, one of the adults is more likely.

Twilight: I saw somebody consider that the wolf in Hyrule Warriors ridden by Midna is an older Twilight, although it's not canon, if it was it would provide reason for him to live. For actual reasons though, there's also the "Wild is Twilight's descendant" theory, and he's already got the near-death trauma, so it's unlikely for him to be killed off again after he just survived this.

Warriors: I haven't played much of Hyrule Warriors, so I can't say much about him, so anyone more knowledgable than me can help with this one. I'd say that with him and Legend's sort of rivalry though, it is likely that he may have a near-death experience so that they get a moment, and make up after that, and then he tells Legend about Marin, because she appears in his game, which would be nice in my opinion.

So, all of them have reasons to survive (although some are less credible than others, and I haven't found Warriors yet). So, who could die, if not any of them? Dink. What if Dink was the one prophesied to die? If they defeat him, he'll probably die, and the Sheikah Slate just says "someone", not someone in the group. (Loophole logic). What if the whole thing was a red herring to scare us, and it's just letting us know the big bad will die in the end?

Although, that could potentially be anticlimactic, and a bit boring. So, let's say it isn't Dink. We don't really have anyone else except the postman, and Epona. And Epona better not die. The postman doesn't really seem like a likely candidate for death either. So, I'd say Dink will die, there'll be a temporary death and then a revival, or another character will be introduced and killed off.

[harryissuchalittleshit]

The next gen kids and...

- who they look like the most (which parent)?

- who are they like the most when it comes to personality (which parent)?

- who (except their parents) are they simillar to?

Victoire

Victoire looks a lot like Fleur when she’s younger and grows to look like her Tante Gabrielle, especially after having children. She’s tall and beautiful, and she grows into her curves and figure.

I would say her personality is a lot like Bill’s and he hates it lol. She’s a rebel with a cause and also a mother hen to her siblings. She does come off as a bit standoffish like Fleur can, but she means well in the end.

I would say she is the most like Ginny, headstrong and stubborn and not afraid to fight for her own rights and happiness.

Dominique

She looks so much like Fleur, just throw on some freckles and a wild mass of red curls she likes to call her lion mane. She is tiny and is often mistaken for being the premee baby of her siblings, not the one that was over ten pounds.

She is just like Bill, a Weasley through and through. She makes fast and rash decisions and it does bite her in the ass, but she grows from it

Speaking of which, I would say she is most like Percy. When it comes down to it, he is defined by his two biggest moments in canon, leaving and coming back. Dominique is made of the same stuff, fitting for the godfather/goddaughter duo

Louis

If you held up a photo of Louis and Bill at sixteen, even Molly would have trouble telling who was who.

He is quiet and calm and delicate, Fleur’s baby through and through. He loves art and to dance and to live his life the way he wants to, even if he has to burn some bridges

Not only is he named after Charlie, they are great friends and pen pals. Louis takes after Charlie like a duck to water and they both enjoy it

Molly

She looks like Audrey, but with those Weasley freckles and brown eyes and that unmistakable shade of gingery-orange hair. Really she and Lucy are the perfect mix of their parents

Molly is so bright and happy and hopeful, very much like her mother and the Hufflepuffs she finds kinship with. She has had so much pain and sadness thrown on her that she needs some happiness and lightness in her life

She’s like George, they both have this warmth and happiness they can bring out of themselves while also holding onto a deep trauma

Lucy

She looks like Percy the same way Molly looks like Audrey. She does have Audrey’s blue eyes but Percy’s eyesight and she does tend to walk a little taller than she really is, but sometimes she needs that extra confidence

Lucy is very emotional, she’ll cry at the drop of a pin and her moods change so quickly from happy to sad to confused to happy to angry, she tends to just let everything out because for so long Molly didn’t or couldn’t

Lucy takes after her “Uncle” Oliver Wood, one of her dad’s closest friends and quite the emotional man (when it comes to his Quidditch team lol)

Freddie

He looks like George, a bit tanner and a little taller, but he looks just like George.

Freddie is a bit troublesome, but not as bad as his dad. He’s playful and silly, but has a tendency to doubt himself at times. He loves deeply and fiercely and will fight for those he does love. He’s a good son to his parents even if he made them grandparents much too young

He takes after Ron really, his confidence goes up and down and he can crack a good joke while being in love with the smartest girl he knows

Roxanne

She looks like her Aunt Roxie, but with some dark red curls she loves to braid and play with

Like her brother she is a bit troublesome and does have some confidence issues. Her issues manifest into a horrible eating disorder and an abusive relationship, but through a lot of work and love she comes out on top

I really feel like she takes after Hermione, she’s stubborn and headstrong and used to being listened to as the smartest person in the room, but her insecurities do hold her back at times

Rose

She looks like Ron, red hair and blue eyes, freckles and that playful smile, but Hermione’s curls and her short stature

Her personality is a great mix of her parents, the good and the bad. She also tends to mother hen her cousins, which they jump on and take advantage of at times

She takes after Harry, he’s her godfather and uncle and in many ways her third parent. She learns so much from him and he’s a great source of comfort to her

Hugo

He looks like Hermione, but he does have the Weasley red hair and he’s sooo tall, the tallest of the Weasley grandsons with only Louis within inches of him

He’s happy, he’s hyper, he loves to have fun and joke around but come exam times, his head is in the books and won’t come out until it’s all over. He is very competitive, but who can blame him when he wants to be the smartest person despite his set backs

He’s like Fred, funny and sweet but sometimes with a mean streak that he hates and a hyperness that holds him back until he overcomes it

James

James is the perfect mix of Harry and Ginny, he has the messy red hair and tan skin and brown eyes and freckles and lanky limbs that are both Potter and Weasley

He is definitely a goof ball, but also has a heart of gold. He is protective and loving and often doesn’t think before he talks, but it doesn’t matter because he’s so good and honest to those he loves. He has made his mistakes, but he honors them and lives up to his names and the men his mother named him after

He is very much like Bill, taking the weight of all the family in his shoulders with pride and love even if he sometimes puts his foot in his mouth

Al

He looks just like Harry, but he had freckles on his nose and cheeks and it reminds Ginny of Fred. She will never compare her second son’s looks to Harry, always her brothers

Al is dramatic and moody and always rolling his eyes, but he loves his family and gets along with everyone despite his dramatics. Rose is his ride or die and she is the reason he made it to adulthood and he knows it

Honestly, I want to say he’s most like Ginny, but if I can’t pick a parent I would say Percy. He is a bit high strung and prideful, he’s ambitious and wanting from the world, but his family comes first over and over and over again

Lily

Merlin she looks like Ginny, she has hazel eyes like her grandfather James and can’t see anything closer than her outstretched hand without her glasses, but honestly she and Ginny could be twins if they were the same age

She is a bit of a brat, being the only girl in her immediate family and then the youngest granddaughter, she takes full advantage of being the baby. But she does grow up and levels out and becomes more than just her wants. She ends up finding a peacefulness in being unknown and called out on her more selfish behavior, and it’s good for her to see reality a bit

He takes after her Grandad Arthur, taking interest in something small but oh so important to her and finding her own ways to be brave and just in front of not only herself and others. She also takes a bit of happiness in hiding away at times, even if she’s always watching

Bonus:

Scorpius

He looks like Draco, but Astoria’s features have made there way in. It’s in the slight tan of his skin tone and the curls of his white blond hair, but otherwise he is all Malfoy

He is literally the kindest and sweetest person, sure he’s also ambitious and cunning, but people notice his presence through his polite and kind demeanor

He takes after Theodore Nott, who has proven himself to be kind and wholesome and a great father. He loves every lost child that comes into his home and has made his home open and accessible to anyone that needs a place to stay, but especially his children’s friends

[fadelion]

As much as I want to have Duke Thomas take the Jason Todd/Red Hood slot in a Reverse Robins type story, it feels like it'd be easier to put him in the Barbara Gordon Batgirl/Oracle position. Seeing Batman going about and doing his thing, and then being like, "Yeah, sure, I can pull that off," then having absolutely no quit when it comes to digging into dangerous problems that need to get solved and solving them with smarts and grit. I can also more easily see him catching a few in the spine as collateral damage to psychologically get at his mother more than I can see him getting exploded because he decided to dig into his family history. Imagine Duke's first interaction with Batman is when his parents find the Bat injured and bring him inside to patch him up, much like in canon. I don't doubt that Bruce Wayne would repay the favor, and suddenly Elaine Thomas is a person that Batman sends people to for help while getting all the funding and assistance she could ever ask for (and a lot more that she didn't, but she's not letting it go to waste), while Doug Thomas is brought into a construction labor union on a recommendation nobody can quite place the origin of and begins to work his way up the ranks, being an effective advocate for the rights of the city's workers. Actually, maybe Duke's gunshot wounds are a consequence of the mafia trying to get at Doug Thomas on union business. (MLK got popped speaking at a rally for sanitation workers in Menphis, so it's not like it couldn't happen.) Not even strictly villian related, but a product of the general Gotham environment and how almost every system seems to be corrupt on multiple levels. (Duke: "Do you think one bad day would stop me? It's Gotham, Bruce. Sometimes you just have bad days. Then tomorrow happens and you try again.") He's in a wheelchair for awhile, but slowly starts to heal over time for what seems like no apparent reason. At least until the metagene kicks in fully, anyway.

Then again, Jason Todd's death happened in Ethiopia, and he and Batman were in the country for different reasons. Maybe it'd be easier to get the Thomas Family killed if Duke stayed in Gotham (Jason was supposed to be on the bench if i remember right) and Gnomon popped up to try to claim his son. Things get wild, there's a spike in Metahumans for a week or two as it seems like almost everybody gets to be one, the Justice League on Batman watch to make sure he doesnt kill the Iranian Ambassador (the Joker, somehow), and while it's written off as an issue with the water supply, some get to keep their powers at the cost of being continually shunned and end up being treated somewhere between a like a leper snd like a living bomb.

The "No metas in Gotham" thing (that I'm honestly not sure ever was canon) isn't a Batman rule as much as a "I'm not trying to get hate crime'd so I'm gonna avoid the city like the plague" thing.

Either way, Gnomon ends up beaten and Thomas family ends up dead at the hands of an angry mob while trying to defend innocent metas from the nonsense of some villian. Only, Duke ends up coming back because Superboy Prime's Source Wall punch decides to reactivate Duke's body and metagene. After coming back and recovering in a city that's still, well, Gotham, he decides that that whole Batman thing didn't work and comes at the problem from the other side, making it his personal mission to get at Gotham's crime problem by putting himself in a position where he can fight for people pressured into bad situations, even more so if Gnomon comes back around, wondering why his son would debase himself by spending time among these fragile humans instead of ruling over them. The Omen becomes the feared figure among the mobs and gangs of Gotham, especially when some wake up to a golden hooded figure standing over their bed, before he whispers a warning and fades into the rooms shadows before the light of day fully peeks through the windows. Stories circulate about certain people being protected, like good teachers, preachers, priests, nuns, soup kitchen runners, respected public defenders, certain cops, generally "good" people or people making a positive difference in a way that earns them the animosity of the corrupt. Perhaps the worst of them wake up badly beaten in a jail cell that's permanently darkened by shadow, the only light coming from a small window on the cell door and the glowing eye painted on the ceiling, evidence of their crimes on their chest or on a trusted officer's desk.

Though honestly, I think I just need to learn more about Jason Todd and Barbara Gordon to make either work.

Or maybe just go to sleep.

[nunalastor]

Alastor tastes bad

Recently (2 minutes ago) I had to explain to my beloveds friend why Alastors dick would taste absolutely disgusting and I thought I should remind everyone

Generally when I start talking about the taste of meat in general I always bring up how Herbivore meat tastes better to humans because a lot of factors. One obvious one is that we got used to them since they were the most resourceful kind available (Imagine raising a carnivore for it's meat, more meat would be used to raise and fatten it up than you'd get at the end) but it's also because the differing levels of fat on carnivores vs herbivores.

Now, Alastor is a cannibal, we know this. This alone would make him and his dick taste gross, but the people he eats most likely have eaten meat before too, which makes his own flesh double disgusting.

The reason meat tastes bad sometimes is because of its contents right? like how piss would taste disgusting because its contents are shit our body doesn't need anymore. Logically, the healthier you eat, the healthier your body will be, which means better muscle tissues and allat, right? I translate this into it's taste too. A healthy flesh is less likely to carry disease (which I think is part of why herbivores are preferred too) and the nutrients and stuff that goes into your body would also be better quality.

The opposite I imagine is true too, the less healthy stuff you eat, the less tasty your body will be. Considering Alastor has probably eaten meat of people who've also eaten meat before, there's two levels of gross passing down to his flesh.

But it doesn't end there, no. The thing about Alastor is also that he's part deer. depending on the human-to-deer ratio, we could get an absolutely horrid combination of disgusting human meat mixed with even worse venison tastes. The (maybe) only saving his taste would be the fact that deer are herbivores, but I highly doubt he goes around chewing on grass.

And we're still not done yet. Still on the topic of his deer side, the age of venison can effect it's taste and texture. Generally, older deer tend to have tougher meat and a stronger, more pronounced and distinctly wild flavor. This is because as deer age, their muscles develop more connective tissue, making the meat tougher. So he tastes thrice as horrid as a regular wild animals meat.

I am tired and 100% talking out of my ass but do with this information what you will

I also had to google plural of deer for this

canon.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

I Know the End | Vol. 3

Poe Dameron x Reader

Fandom: Star Wars

Summary: You were one of the Rebellion’s greatest weapons in the Galactic Civil War, a Princess from a distant planet, a Jedi with wings. Now, you’ve found yourself in a new world, a new war, your old friends long gone.

When Poe Dameron was sent on a wild goose chase of a reconnaissance mission four systems out, he never expected to find the key to his heart…

Note: At long last, here it is. Thank you for your patience. I love you all. I honestly wrote this as a long-winded attempt to make Poe Dameron’s dumbest line “Somehow, Palpatine returned” into a gut-wrenching and emotional moment and it got way out of hand. I am no Star Wars expert, but I did a lot of research for this and consider myself waaaaaaay more of a SW nerd now than I was a mere two months ago. Could probably write a dissertation on it at this point (I say as I literally churned out a novel). It is my first time writing for the fandom, though, so, here goes nothing. I did make up a fair bit of stuff and a good handful of OCs for this. Let me know what you think!

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, lightsaber and blaster wounds, alcohol consumption, war and the implications of it, gets a little steamy but no smut, reader has nightmares, misuse of the Force, Rewriting the Rise of Skywalker a lil bit…

Word Count: 82.7k total (Split into four approximately 20k chunks)Reader Is: 24, a Jedi, a Princess, has butterfly wings

Vol 1. | Vol 2. | Vol 3. | Vol 4.

Sentimental or Superstitious

You could tell when Poe walked into your meditation room that he didn’t exactly have good news. Your eyes were closed. You were floating in the back of the room, a few wooden balls floating in rings around you, like moons in orbit. You felt him in the doorway, watching, a certain warmth swirling in his chest.

“You can say hi, you know.” You told him, eyes still closed.

“Didn’t want to scare you.” He admitted, walking inside, steps slow.

“You couldn’t. I always feel when you’re here.” You finally opened them, letting in the light, dim though it was. “Your energy is pretty hard to ignore.”

“I’m flattered, your Highness.” He put a hand to his chest, his smile hiding something. You could tell. Maybe it was the Force, or maybe it was something else entirely, but you were always able to read him like a book.

You walked closer, using the Force to close the door behind him, then the curtains, granting you some privacy. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Mission. Black Squadron. Outer Rim. We’re gonna be gone for three days.” He said, taking your hand. He fiddled with your fingers absently, waiting for your response.

“Oh. Yeah, alright.” You nodded, that bittersweet feeling sinking in. It was familiar, in a way. That was how the Rebellion had been, too. People left sometimes for days at a time. Sometimes, they wouldn’t come back. It was a war. That was the nature of those sorts of things. “Be safe.”

“That’s…it? You’re not gonna try to stop me?” He asked, almost sad about it.

“I know I couldn’t if I tried.” You said, slipping your hand further into his. “You’re nothing if not stubborn. I happen to love that about you. And this…isn’t my first war. I know how these things go.”

He nodded, eyes locked on the way your fingers looked together. Yours in his. His wrapped around yours. You’d held his hands so many times, and yet, he still got chills from the feeling. Everything about the two of you together felt so right. He couldn’t remember a part of his life without you in it anymore. It both thrilled and scared him.

“I just…I need you to know that every time you climb into that cockpit, you’re taking my heart with you.” You said, taking a step closer, raising your hand to rest against his cheek. “Be careful with it.”

He’d shaved a few days before, but now he had some decent stubble growing back already. It suited him.

Poe closed his eyes, let out a long breath, letting your touch soothe away the cresting doubts in his mind. He reached up and held your hand against his cheek, eyes big and sad and brown. “(Y/N), you can’t just say that and still expect me to leave.”

You chuckled. “I know. I mean it, though. You…” You’re the love of my life, Poe Dameron. “You mean a lot to me, you know. I need you and that droid of yours to get back to me in one piece.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your thumb.

“What time are you wheels-up?”

“About an hour from now. Hour and a half maybe.”

“Great. Then meet me in my quarters in five.” You told him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. With a flourish of your wrists, the curtains opened again. You used the Force to push the door back open, into its welcoming, propped position.

BB-8, who was sitting just outside it, whirred in greeting, promising to help the mission go smoothly.

“Oh I know you will, Bee.” You reassured him, glancing back at Poe as you left him standing there, your heart in his hand. “You’re one of our best.”

***

You sat on your bunk, fingers fiddling with the Mariposan Healer’s Pendant, which you had strung from a leather cord. It was the same cord your kyber crystal had been strung on, repurposed. When the door slid open, you set it on your nightstand, looking up to find Poe, still in his leather jacket and a soft shirt.

He shed the jacket almost immediately, depositing it on the chair at your desk. He walked over to the bed, hands finding your waist quickly as he kissed you. It was different this time, slower, more passionate, deliberate and careful. He brought one hand up to the back of your neck, guiding it into your hair.

Poe leaned forward, urging you onto your back, movements hardly domineering, but steadfast and sure. Guiding, not demanding. A request, not an order.

You laid back, a hand on his cheek, the other guiding him down on top of you.

He rested his head on your chest, letting out a long breath as you started playing with his hair, his arms looped around your waist. His breathing was slow, relaxed. He knew if he closed his eyes, he was at risk of falling asleep to the lulling forces of your warmth on his cheek and the smell of your sweet perfume wafting through his nostrils.

“Is this an okay position for you?” He asked. “I just…your wings. I don’t wanna crush you, baby.”

“They’re flexible like that. They’ll be fine.” You reassured him, fingers still buried in his soft curls. “It’s like falling asleep on your arm. Cuts off circulation for a little while, but no real harm done.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, the vibrations gentle against you.

“I’ve never seen you scared like this.” You told him. “Is it a bad one?”

“Pretty routine.” He shrugged. “Nothing particularly dangerous. It’s…well, it’s all dangerous on some level, but you know what I mean. I just…I’ve always flown with nothing to lose. That’s not really the case anymore.”

Your heart just about melted. You kissed the crown of his head.

“You know, Rose says that…this Resistance…it’s not about fighting what you hate, it’s about protecting what you love.” You said. “That’s how it was for us, too. You can’t think about the what ifs too hard. You have to think about the celebration after. You picture all your friends there. Alive. Happy. Safe. And you fight for those victories, the ones where everyone gets to celebrate.”

He smiled, tilting his face up to kiss your cheek, then your lips. He hovered above you for a moment, admiring you, that flyboy smile returning to that handsome face. “You’re wiser than your years, you know.”

“I’ve been told that, yeah.” You chuckled, leaning up to kiss him. “I, uh, have something for you.”

“Oh yeah?”

You sat up as he sat back and reached for the necklace on your nightstand, pressing it into his palm. He stared at it for a long moment, He thought about this rock a lot, the one he’d used to wake you up, the one he’d journeyed across several planets to find. He couldn’t fathom why you were giving it back to him now,

“Baby, this is yours.”

“You used it to save me once. It’ll bring you back to me in one piece.” You said, curling his fingers around it. “Call me sentimental or superstitious…”

“Thank you.” He said, grasping it tight. He slipped the cord over his neck, the metal clinking against the ring there. His mother’s ring. “I’ll get it back to you. I promise.”

You pressed one final kiss to his pillow-soft lips before murmuring, “You better, flyboy.”

History Echoes

You saw the Squadron off from your spot on the hill at the edge of camp, watching as their X-Wings took off into the air, getting into formation before blasting away at lightspeed. Your hair blew in the breeze. Artoo beeped beside you, comforting.

“Oh I know, Artoo. He’s the best there is. And BB-8 will take care of him.” You said.

He beeped out a message, basically calling you out for being too emotionally invested in a pilot.

You laughed. “I know that, too. But this flyboy is different.”

Artoo agreed and the two of you returned to camp.

In the afternoon, you stood in the patch of dirt outside the kitchens, fenced in loosely. You’d been saving food scraps, propagating the ends of heads of lettuce, producing sprouts from fruit pits, collecting seeds. With so many troops, fresh food was a luxury you could not take for granted. Being able to grow more food would be crucial.

“I knew it was a matter of time before I found you out here with your hands in the dirt.” Laesynda said, gliding through the gate. Posture straight, eyes warm.

“Took me a while to get things to sprout.” You confessed. “And I recently stumbled into some free time.”

“Mind if I help you?”

“If you don’t mind getting dirty, Admiral.” You said, a glint of mischief in your eye as she knelt in the dirt beside you, despite her long, flowing Mariposan garb. You used a trowel to create little holes in the dirt, carefully placing sprouts roots-down in the moist soil. You covered them carefully, sweeping the dirt into place with your hands, patting them down flat.

Laesynda helped, very obviously trained by the few Mariposans that remained. Gardening and plants had always been important to your people. You were glad that your sister had learned that, despite the circumstances.

“I heard Black Squadron shipped out.” She said, voice even. “You doing okay?”

“Oh yeah. I’m fine.”

“So this isn’t stress gardening?”

“No. Well, maybe a little.”

“How are things with you and him?” She asked. “I heard him lying to some of the rookies that Jedi aren’t allowed to fall in love.”

You burst into laughter, able to picture it so easily. “He would say that, wouldn’t he? Well, it’s good. We’re good.”

“I noticed you two touching less. In public, that is. I figured that either meant your little gala went very well, or very wrong.” She said with a laugh.

“I think you and Soren are the only two that have it figured out.”

“Not Rey?”

“She doesn’t pry, which is nice. And if we tell one person, we’ll have to tell everyone, and we’re definitely not ready for that.” You admitted. “I do plan on telling Leia, though. She’d want to know.”

“She’s been rooting for you two since the beginning.” Laesynda confessed. “She and I talked about it one night over a bottle of Mariposan wine.”

You missed those days, gossiping with Leia. It was…weird, being in different age groups. You hoped it was something you would grow back into, being friends with her again. Now, whether she meant to or not, she treated you as something of a niece. A child of hers, even, which only made sense, given the circumstances on her end. But still.

Chewie stood at the fence and let out a curious roar.

“We’re starting a garden. Growing some fresh fruits and veggies for the food supply.” You told him. “Do you want to help?”

He agreed, walking over and setting to work with you, helping move heavy piles of soil, and once things were planted, he helped move some stepping stones into place. You set out large barrels to collect rainwater. It rained a decent bit on Ajan Kloss, but it was also pretty warm. It would be nice to have some water saved in case you hit a dry patch.

The three of you worked out there for hours, a few other volunteers helping until you had several neat little rows of plants, as well as paths through and around them, the fence reinforced to keep out the native species of animals that lived on the planet. Most of them were friendly, at least as far as you knew, but you were sure they were more than likely to end up nibbling on your veggies.

Laesynda wrapped an arm around you, Chewie standing on your other side as you looked down at the literal fruits of your labor. If you all lived on this base long enough, you could only imagine the kinds of things that would start to take root.

***

In the canteen, after dinner, the room was filled with various recruits, passing their idle time before bed. Some played cards, some read quietly by themselves. Some were sharing drinks, telling stories from home.

You were sitting in there, getting some reading done yourself. Luke had left you some notes he’d taken during his studies. Experiments he had done, learning new tricks and abilities with the Force. He’d written about a Force-sensitive tree that he and Poe’s parents had planted on Yavin IV. He’d written about a young Yoda-like student he’d had, a baby who was fifty years old, raised by a Mandalorian. He’d written about Force healing, that is, how to use your life force to heal most injuries. Extreme ones were risky, supposedly, but minor injuries could be patched up mostly harmlessly.

It was good to know. You had never tried it. Though you hadn’t had all that much training before going to sleep for thirty years. But that was what the notes were for, you supposed. To fill in those blanks.

“This seat taken?” One of the new recruits asked. He was a pilot, that much you knew. Not Reggie. This guy was tall, covered in lean muscle. He had something of a mullet, hair a dark brown color.

“Not at all.”

“You’re the princess, right? The Jedi?”

“That would be me.”

“I’m Foxx. I’m with Blue Squadron.”

“Cool. Nice to meet you. Welcome to the Resistance.” You said, turning back to your studies. You could feel his eyes on you, though. 

“Commander Dameron was spreading a rumor, I thought I’d find out if it was true.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“He said Jedi aren’t allowed to fall in love. Thought I’d ask you out. See if I could change your mind.” He asked.

You thought he was joking. Wanted him to be joking. But when you looked up, his eyes were dead serious. You laughed.

“Is this that? This is the…asking me out part?” You laughed again and the cocky look on his face flickered. “Listen, kid, I’m flattered. But…Commander Dameron never lies. I don’t date. Especially not flyboys like you.”

You packed up your book and gave him a friendly shoulder pat, chuckling at the irony of it all before moving towards your room to read there instead.

“You don’t date, huh?” Leia asked, walking somewhere. “You and Luke must have changed your minds on that, then.”

You laughed. “Yeah something like that. That or it keeps these ogling rookies off my back.”

“You can’t blame them, you know. I remember when we were the elusive young princesses on base.” She chuckled. “You alone get to share that burden now.”

“The weight of the galaxy on these shoulders.” You said, reminiscent. “How have you been, Leia?”

She offered her hand. “Why don’t we have a talk? It’s been a while.”

“I was going to say the same thing.” You agreed, taking it. The two of you walked back to her quarters and sat in the chairs she had by the window, overlooking, ironically enough, your garden. A flowering tree was growing just beyond the window’s edge, purple and pink hues framing the sight perfectly.

You looked around. There were a few projected holos of her and Han, their wedding, and a boy you could only assume was Ben, or more accurately, Kylo. You shivered.

“How has your training been going?” She asked first.

“Really well. Soren is coming along nicely. He’s a little unsure at first, but once he’s done something a few times, he really gets the hang of it. And Rey, as I’m sure you know, is a natural. I haven’t seen the Force this strong in anyone since…well, since Luke.”

“I barely believed it myself when Han brought her along for the first time. He really warmed up to her. You know how hard that was to pull off.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” You replied, letting out a breath.

“And no one around here has been giving you trouble?”

“Oh, no. Everyone’s been nice.”

“Even Poe?”

“Especially Poe.” You said, lips curling around his name with warmth. 

You met her eyes and…you could tell she knew. She was your best friend, had been since you were girls. Your dads had been friends growing up. Well, her adoptive father, but Bail Organa had been nothing but good to her, whereas Vader had a muddier track record.

“He’s a little reckless,” she said, tone indicating this was the beginning of a list. “Headstrong. He’s got a bit of a rebellious streak. But…he’s incredibly loyal. Brave. I…well, I see a lot of Han in him.”

“I can see why.” You nodded. You saw it too. Hell, you’d thought he was Han, that first time you’d laid eyes on him, your vision blurred.

“Did he tell you about his attempted mutiny?”

“His what?” You asked, sitting more comfortably.

She explained to you what had really happened just before the battle of Crait. The dreadnought incident, Admiral Holdo, and Poe’s attempted mutiny against her before he got stunned. You couldn’t help but chuckle a little, imagining where you’d have fallen in all that. It would have been tricky. Especially if you’d have had higher clearance than Poe, which you would have with his demotion. 

But at the time, Luke was still alive. Part of you was pretty sure you would have been off with him, untangling whatever web was still hanging between you, training Rey together.

“He’s learned a lot since then, I think. It taught him to take a step back, to look at the bigger picture before getting too trigger-happy.” Leia said softly. “I think if we need him, he’d be a great leader. A great general.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” You said, layering your hand over hers. “And you make a great general too, if I do say so myself.”

Her eyes twinkled. “It means worlds to hear you say that.”

“Leia…Poe and I…we’re…”

“Oh, I know.” She laughed. “You’ve never been able to hide things like that from me. I could feel it coming since the two of you first stepped off the Falcon together. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. I knew then that I’d sent him for a reason. And I think you’re good together, for the record.”

“Thanks.” You chuckled. “So you knew…when we went to that gala…”

“I was hoping you would. Figured it would help get both of your minds back to where they needed to be, instead of dancing around each other like Han and I.”

“We’re still keeping it kind of quiet, though.” You told her. “Just for now. We haven’t talked about…telling people.”

“I know.” She winked. “Take your time. We have a war to win, after all. There are stranger things we have to face than a princess and a pilot falling in love.”

It was like history was echoing, in a lot of ways. You could feel the way it bounced against the caverns, threads interlocking into something new, but familiar. This life, your new life, was made of the same cloth as the old one, after all. But this parallel meant something else to you. Leia and Han, though not forever, got their life together.

You could only hope to get to that point with Poe. A life after the war, a home to settle down in. A wedding. And you hoped Leia would be there, too. You hoped all of them would.

***

In the morning, the second day of Poe’s three-day mission, you laid in bed alone. You hadn’t really dreamt, aside from murmurs of him. His voice, his soft hair between your fingers, his lips. It felt different than your other dreams, the ones you’d had of him in your life before.

They weren’t prophecies anymore. They were real. He was yours.

But it still hurt when you opened your eyes and saw the empty pillow in front of you, didn’t even feel his presence down the hall in his shared room with Finn.

You hoped he was okay out there.

After a quick breakfast, you set out into the forest for more flight training with Soren. You’d set up a few variations on courses, training yourself as much as him, challenging the both of you to fly higher, further, faster. Covering distance would make you indispensable in a fight. Like an X-Wing on the ground, but with a lightsaber instead of a giant blaster. It would also make it easier to get away from a fight, if you needed a quick escape. There weren’t many enemies that could counter that kind of maneuver.

After that, you went into your meditation room to find Finn there, sitting on one of the cushions. Eyes closed, breaths slow and even. Ribbons of sunlight danced across his skin, through the billowing curtains that hung in the window. In front of him, one of your wooden balls wiggled once, twice, before lifting, very slowly, a few inches into the air.

Your eyes widened, staring. You weren’t doing it. Rey and Soren weren’t even there. No, it was Finn, moving it with his mind. With the Force.

“Finn.” You whispered.

His eyes opened and the ball fell. He met your eyes, confused almost, as to why you looked so shocked. “What?”

“You just…You’re Force Sensitive!” You pointed to the ball.

He stared up at you.

“What?”

“You were lifting the ball! I saw it!” You insisted, heart racing with excitement. You’d always known there was something about him. That spark of potential, waiting to be honed.

“I wasn’t trying to. I’ve…been stressed, so I thought I’d try meditation, like you and Rey do.”

You crossed the room, taking both of his hands in yours. “I always knew it. I could feel there was something there. This is…you’re one of us. I don’t want to spring all of this on you at once, but…if you want to, if you’re ready, you can start joining the rest of us for training. See if this is something you want to pursue.”

“You’re being serious.”

“Of course I am.” You nodded, wings fluttering a bit behind you. “We’d have to find you a saber, but…”

“What’s going on?” Rey asked, walking into the room with her staff slung over her shoulder.

You beamed at her. “Finn is Force Sensitive!”

“I knew it!” Her face lit up and she raced into the room, hugging him tightly. “This is incredible! I can’t wait to tell Poe!”

“Me either.” He grinned, opening up the hug to let you in. You hugged them gladly. This was the beginnings of it, you could feel it. These two and Soren. Your class of Jedi.

You were finally setting out to finish the work you had started some thirty years ago.

And you couldn’t wait to tell Poe either, when he finally got back.

***

After dinner, some of the mech crew had a bonfire outside. A small one. Roasted some ronto sausages that were in danger of going bad, cracked open a few saved bottles of liquor. You sat next to Finn, warming in the flickering light.

“He named me, you know. Poe.” He said, voice soft. You could barely hear him above the chirps of the crickets out in the grass.

“I didn’t know that.”

“He and I…when I escaped the First Order, we stole a TIE fighter and blasted our way out. Crashlanded on Jakku. That’s where I met Rey. But during that flight, he asked my name. I didn’t have one. They don’t give Stormtroopers those, just…numbers. An identification code.”

“Mmm…” You hummed, listening. In all your years, Finn was the first defected Stormtrooper you had met, had talked to. You were so glad he’d gotten out.

“And he wasn’t having it. Took the first two letters, F-N, and named me Finn.” He said, a smile pulling at his lips. “I…thought he was dead for a while. Didn’t see him after the crash. But, he’s nothing if not a fighter.”

“Definitely.” You agreed. Your eyebrows furrowed. “Do you…have a last name?”

“No. I don’t even know if I have a family out there, somewhere.” He admitted. “The First Order takes kids from all over. I doubt they keep track of which kids come from where.”

“I’m really sorry, Finn. That must be hard.”

“It was. Is sometimes, if I’m being honest. But Poe, Rey, you…you’ve all made it easier. You’re the closest thing to family I’ve ever had.”

“We are family.” You assured him, reaching over and putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re more than a brother to me at this point. And someday, wherever we all end up after this war, you’ll always have a place in my home. I mean that.”

He let out a long breath, smiling warmly at you. “Thank you, (Y/N). Would, um…would you mind if I joined you tomorrow morning? For training?”

“I’d be honored if you would.”

Rugged Good Looks

Finn did indeed join the three of you for training, armed, as Soren had once been, with a large stick. You ran him through some basic techniques, since he already had experience with a saber, that seemed like a good place to start. The Force stuff would come in time, but it was clear he already had it, you’d just have to get him to build on it from there.

You sparred with Rey a bit after. She was really good. Her experience with a staff was evident with each flourish and move. You wondered absently if a double-bladed saber would suit her, or where you’d get the kyber crystals for that. Soren would soon be getting to the point where he should be building his own anyway, but you’d have to take a trip for that. A trip you weren’t sure the Resistance could afford, as things were currently.

But Finn would need a saber soon, too…

Soren and Finn ran some drills, Finn watching as your nephew did the first few, the sound of your legacy saber familiar. You were proud that he was wielding it. Proud of him, really. He’d come so far in such a short amount of time. You were sure he’d be ready for field work soon. Couldn’t imagine his mother would be thrilled about it, but you knew he was itching to get out there, to see the galaxy and make a difference in the fight against the First Order.

Just before you and Soren were set to switch to flight training, the sound of several X-Wings coming in for a landing breached the atmosphere. Black Squadron. They were home. A quick headcount of the incoming ships confirmed what you already knew to be true. Poe was fine. He was here. Your heart raced at the thought of it.

“Black Squadron is back!” Rey said, smiling.

“Let’s…call it a day today.” You said, reaching for your water canister and taking a long drink. “Good work today, everyone. We’ll pick up there tomorrow.”

Rey and Finn exchanged a knowing look, but didn’t call you out on it.

“What about flight training, Aunt (Y/N)?” Soren laughed with a chuckle.

“Uhhhhhh I mean, I think we’re both doing pretty good at that, actually. One day off isn’t gonna hurt.” You said, heat blossoming across your cheeks.

The four of you began the long walk back to camp. You were a lot deeper in the woods than when you’d started training with just Rey all those months ago. More Force users meant it was a little more dangerous, the kinds of things you were doing. You didn’t want any unsuspecting comms technicians to stumble on your exercises out there and get seriously hurt.

You were maybe a quarter of the way when you spotted him,  BB-8, barreling towards you at top speed. At first, you thought he was just excited to be back, to see all of you, but then you caught wind of his beeps telling you that Poe was injured. That they’d taken him to the infirmary.

It was like time stopped.

Before you could say anything to the others, make any kind of plan, your wings flexed to their full span and you took off, racing through trees, about seven feet higher than you’d ever flown, soaring right past the mechs and engineers running through camp to take stock of the X-Wings that had just landed. Your speed alone would give a pod-racer pause.

You hung a right, never touching the ground once until you were at the front entrance of the infirmary, dodging through nurses and droids to find where they had him. You were breathless, wings burning. A nurse spotted you and ushered you towards Poe’s room.

From the doorway, you could see his battered orange flight suit. You stepped closer, breaths still heavy, scanning him over for damages as best you could while the nurse took his vitals. It was mostly concentrated to his face, it seemed. Two swollen, purpled black eyes, a broken nose.

“(Y/N)? How did you get here so fast?” Snap asked, standing on the other side of the cot.

You shook your head. “Not important. What happened? Is he okay?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart. Does it look that bad?”

“Can you see?” You asked, taking a few steps closer. It didn’t look like it, the way his eyes were nearly covered by the bruised flesh.

“We’re gettin’ there. Doc said these meds should help with the swelling.” He said, reaching for you, following your voice.

“Does it hurt?”

“Again, lots of meds.”

You chuckled, tears welling in your eyes at the sight of him. Maker, you were glad he was okay. “That wasn’t a no.”

He heard the crack in your voice and the sarcasm immediately melted away. His hand finally met its target: your own, fastening quickly around yours. “I’m fine, baby. It’s okay. Hey, look at me.”

Finn, Rey, and Soren walked in, BB-8 rolling in just after. He beeped out a long string, incredulous.

“You flew here?!” Snap asked, clearly impressed.

“You WHAT?!” Poe asked, wincing after, the enthusiasm of it hurting. “I didn’t know you’d worked up to that already!”

“She didn’t.” Soren said with a laugh. “Just flew. Straight over camp. Didn’t touch down once.”

“Heard you were injured and took off.” Rey added, walking over to stand with you. “Didn’t stay long enough to hear BB-8 say you were okay.”

He let out a lovesick sigh, squeezing your hand as Finn joined the two of you beside his cot. You could tell he wanted to say something else, but held it in with your friends all congregated there. “You should see the other guy.”

“What happened?” You asked.

“Fight with some spice runners in the Outer Rim. They intercepted one of our shipments, so we went to get it back.”

“Poe fought a guy three times his size.” Snap recalled. “Knocked him out, but not before…that.”

“Wow. Sounds like you’re a hero, Commander Dameron.” Finn chuckled.

“Feelin’ real heroic.”

“Looking real heroic.” Rey said, earning laughs from the rest of you.

“Take a scan. Might last you longer. They’re gonna have me back to normal in no time.” He assured, thumb tracing circles in the back of your hand. “What else is goin’ on around here? I was gone three days, I can’t have missed that much.”

“Actually, I just started my Jedi training.” Finn said.

Poe laughed. “Good one.”

“Poe.” You said, trying to meet his eyes. It was hard, with the swelling.

“Wait, what?! Are you serious?” Poe looked from you to Finn, who smiled nervously. “You’re Force Sensitive too? Finn, that’s great! That’s…wow. Maybe I should go on missions more often if you guys are so productive while I’m gone.”

“We need you here, too.” Rey said, smiling softly. “Glad you’re back. Glad you’re okay.”

Finn, Rey, Soren and Snap finished saying their well-wishes to Poe and then got out of there just as the nurse finished up, giving you some time alone with him.

He scooted to the far end of the cot, patting the space he’d left there.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Poe.”

“Don’t care. Come here. I’ve been waiting three days to hold you, I’m not letting some flesh wound get in the way of that.”

You chuckled, sitting on the edge of the cot, facing him. He reached up and took your face in both hands, his touch careful, but definitely more or less affected by the heavy meds they had him on. He pulled your face closer until your nose was touching the end of his and winced when your skin made the lightest contact.

“Careful.” You warned.

“I am being careful.” He insisted.

“Uh-huh. Sure you are. You are known for that.”

He grinned, ignoring the comment. “So tell me again about this flying over the whole base to get here?” He looked down at BB-8, who was still in the room, watching the two of you. “Did you get it? Can you show me?”

BB-8 beeped in affirmation and projected into the air, his memory of you getting the news, eyes zoning out as your wings spread to their full span, and then you took off towards the infirmary at top speed, leaves blown apart by the gust of wind you stirred up behind you.

Poe gasped. “Play it again. Slow it down fifty percent.” He said and BB-8 did just that, playing the clip again, showing the two of you your first full flight ever. You were the first Mariposan in generations to do so. “Wow, baby, you were worried about me, huh?”

“Can you blame me?” You said, turning to look at him, his eyes locked on you, gaze as soft as it could be despite the circumstances.

“I don’t think I could, showing up looking like this.” He chuckled. “I’ve still got my rugged good looks, though, right?”

“Always, hotshot.” You smiled softly. “You’d look badass if you weren’t in so much pain.”

His hand slipped into yours, fingers intertwining. He reached up and tilted your face, doing everything in his power to keep his very broken nose from brushing against yours on the way to your lips, but jolted when it did anyway, letting out a frustrated sigh. “This is gonna be really hard…”

You frowned, looking at his pathetic, pained state. And then Luke’s notes came to mind. Maybe your ex-boyfriend was good for something after all.

“Let me try something.”

“Are you gonna Jedi Mind Trick me into forgetting it hurts every time I try to kiss you? Because that could work…”

Laughter bubbled from your lips. “It would not work, actually. Those wouldn’t work on you.”

“Why is that? I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“Because they only work on idiots.”

He smirked. “Well, like I said, I’m on a lot of meds, so now is the time to experiment with that.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “I’d hit you if you weren’t already injured.”

“What were you thinking instead?”

“Permission to use the Force on you?”

“Uh, sure. I trust you.” He said, sitting up a little straighter, wincing at the effort it took.

Your hand tightened on his and you zoned in, taking a deep breath and focusing your energy. Your Force. You reached out with the other hand, holding it in front of his injured face. You closed your eyes, fingers splaying as you transferred energy from you to him.

He let out a little breath of astonishment, vision clearing as his swelling went down, bruises clearing to nothing. With a twitch, his nose set back into place. His mouth fell open, realizing what had happened. You’d healed him. You’d used the Force to heal him. Maker, the things that did to him…

You opened your eyes to find him staring back at you, eyes wide, mouth still hanging open. There he was, your Poe, his injuries from moments ago a mere memory. You lowered your hand, waiting for him to say something.

“What the actual fuck. How did you…do that?” He asked, reaching up to touch his face, experimental. When it didn’t hurt, he looked even more surprised.

“Luke left me some notes.” You admitted. “Finally read them. Apparently this is a thing you can do with the Force, transferring your energy to someone or something else. I didn’t know it would work until now.”

“Mmm…” He nodded, unable to fight the smile spreading across his newly healed face. “The nurses are about to be very confused.”

You laughed, leaning towards him, your nose brushing against his. His hands settled on your hips, pulling you a little closer as he finally kissed you, melting when his lips found yours. He reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, tilting your head as he deepened the kiss.

Part of you worried about someone walking in, seeing the two of you. Part of you didn’t care. You’d waited so long to kiss him again.

He let out a sigh, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes drifting shut for a moment. His lips grazed yours as he whispered, “Three days without you in that cockpit was driving me crazy, starlight. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too.”

“Let’s get outta here. Go back to yours. Make up for lost time.” He said, eyes half lidded as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, tugging your waist closer. “Before we get caught in here recreating all the fantasies that have been haunting me.”

You gasped, playfully scandalized. “In front of BB-8?”

He glanced over, as if reminded his droid was sitting there. “Oh. Right. Bee, you wanna go recharge? It’s been a long few days.”

He agreed with a series of beeps, rolling out through the curtained doorway towards his charger in Finn and Poe’s room.

You stood from the bed and helped Poe up after. Once you were both upright, he couldn’t fight the urge any longer, an arm hooking around your back, just beneath your wings, sweeping you into a dip and connecting his lips with yours.

A wistful hum pulled itself from your throat, eyes fluttering shut at the passion in his movements. He really had been thinking through this for three days.

Poe stood you on your feet again, punctuating it with a kiss to your nose, then a kiss to your cheek, and then finally to your lips again. Then, he straightened himself out, leading you out of the room and into the bustling heart of the infirmary.

“Hey, uh, Nurse, am I good to go?” Poe asked, grinning when she looked him up and down, eyes widened at his suddenly healed face.

“Y-you…your face.”

“Don’t compliment him, it’ll just go to his head. Trust me.” You advised.

“Those meds really must have been something. I feel great. I’ve got some work to get back to, though, if you could clear me.”

“Uh, s-sure. Yeah, you look…yeah, that’s fine. Let us know if anything changes.”

“Will do.” Poe saluted, a hand settling on the middle of your back, a painfully neutral position as he guided you through the camp that you’d flown over not twenty minutes earlier.

Some of the recruits watched you, whispering to each other. You weren’t sure if it was about you and Poe, being seen together once again nearly as soon as he’d touched down, Poe’s injuries miraculously vaporizing, or your little flight. Maker, you really had given them a lot to whisper about lately.

You walked back to your quarters, waving amicably at friends of yours. A few stopped for smalltalk, but Poe was on a new mission, continuously guiding you back to the bedrooms. You punched in your code, ushering him in first while no one was watching.

As soon as you were both through the door, he closed it with his palm on the control panel, grabbing you by the hips and pulling you into him, crushing his lips against yours. You let out a gentle moan, hand wandering up into his curls, the other settling against the fabric of his jumpsuit.

You reached for his zipper, fingers fastening around the metal and tugging it down, earning a groan from him, a rasped breath.

“You know, I love it when you do it with the Force, but the other way is great, too.” He said, backing up towards the bed before pulling you down with him, wriggling his shoulders out of the restrictive suit.

He pulled it off, leaving him in an undershirt and boxers, laying on your bed, an orange heap on the floor. You hovered over him, a leg on either side, straddling his hips. One large hand ghosted over your thigh tattoo before they both found new spots, one against your cheek, keeping your face close to his, the other massaging circles on your lower back, edging closer and closer to your wings, but not daring to brush against the spot between them. Not yet, anyways.

The two of you made out for a while, eventually settling into a comfortable cuddling position, you slotted to his side, a leg thrown over his. His arm was wrapped around your waist, your wing spread like a blanket across him while his other hand gently ran down its silken surface.

“I can’t believe you flew to me, baby.” He whispered, still in disbelief. “Flew right over camp. No Mariposan has flown in…what, four generations? Five?”

“You would have too, if you had wings.” You smiled warmly, fingers wandering across his broad chest, stopping to linger on the healing amulet. It had done its job. It had brought him back to you, although a little more injured than you would have liked. But that hardly mattered now. He didn’t even have a scar to show for it. “You’ve been doing your research.”

“‘Course I have. I’m dating the Mariposan princess, after all. I take the responsibility very seriously. Someday, when everyone knows, they’re gonna ask me all the questions, and I’m gonna need to have all the answers.”

“Leia knows. She…figured it out a while ago, I think.”

He chuckled. “That checks out. Snap’ll probably figure it out if he hasn’t already. He heard me call you ‘baby’ today, and he knows I don’t just throw that word around. We can blame it on the meds, though.”

“You think he’ll buy it?”

Poe grinned. “No.”

You laughed, tilting your head up to press a kiss to his cheek, then the corner of his lips.

“Will you grab my jumpsuit?”

You nodded, extending a hand and using the Force to raise the jumpsuit off the floor. He plucked it from the air, digging into the pocket to pull something out. A thin strap of braided leather, light and dark brown woven together. Carefully, he wrapped it around your wrist, clasping the ends so it fit comfortably against your skin.

“Got this for you. At a little market. I read something, maybe it’s not true, about…Mariposans and bracelets. That you’re supposed to give them one to tell them you’d like to…court. I know it’s old-fashioned, but…”

“It’s true.” You smiled, lacing your fingers through his. “So we’re super official, then.”

“I was hoping so.” He murmured, pulling your arm up over his shoulder, drawing you closer and pressing his lips to yours, moving slow, savoring every taste of you. “I’m yours, (Y/N). Always have been. Since the moment you opened those beautiful eyes in that pod. Said you liked my hair and thought I was Han Solo.”

“Is that the way to your heart?” You asked, reaching up to play with the curls in question.

He smiled, taking your hand and kissing up your arm, past your shoulder, up to your lips. “One of ‘em.”

You murmured sweet nothings against his lips, finding them again and again, over and over, his hand gently sweeping down the length of your wing.

Eventually, the two of you would have to go back out there, figure out what came next. What the next move was, both for the war and your relationship. But for now, it was you and him.

Your pilot. Your Poe. And maybe someday, your prince.

Downpour and a Bottle of Wine

A few days later, Leia called another strategy meeting. This one was smaller, essential folks only. This, of course, meant your boyfriend and almost your entire friend group, thankfully, as well as your sister and the rest of the Admirals.

“Our recruitment numbers are at an all-time high, which is…really great. Our new recruits have been training and fitting into life on the base very well, and despite our new garden, courtesy of our Mariposan royals, our supplies are…dwindling. We’ll need to get our hands on more ships, more weapons, more raw materials, more food.”

One of the analysts spoke up about some allies at farms a few systems out that were willing to provide animals, food, crops. The gardens would have to be expanded for the longterm as well. Chewbacca offered to reach out to some of his friends to secure even more resources to keep everyone fed.

“The Hoth base. Is that still there?” You asked, fiddling with the braided leather bracelet on your wrist. “We didn’t clear the place before we left it. In theory, there’d still be stuff there. Weapons. Potentially ships.”

“Definitely ships. If they haven’t been stolen, scrapped for parts.” Wedge spoke up. “We had four X-Wings we had to abandon because they needed repairs. A few transports, too. Plus plenty of building materials we could mine from the structures, if we aren’t planning on going back there in a permanent capacity.”

“It’s cold.” Leia said, unable to hide her smirk. “The team we’ll send will have to bundle up.”

Chewbacca volunteered himself, being more than equipped for the cold. Artoo would go, Threepio.

“Black Squadron can go to recover those ships, General.” Poe volunteered. “We’ll need some mechs to help us fix them up.”

“And some Jedi to dig them out of the snow.” Leia looked to the three, now four, of you, seated all in a row.

“Absolutely, General. Whatever you need.” You agreed, Poe’s eyes flicking to you and then away, a small smile all but concealed on those plush pink lips.

Leia finalized the team. Soren smiled when his name was thrown into the ring and agreed gladly to go. His first mission. But you knew he was ready for it. He’d trained for so long. He was confident with a saber, he was good at using his wings, and the Force was strong with him. He’d be fine. More than fine, if everything went smoothly. It would just be on you to make sure he didn’t freeze to death.

The higher-ups would notify the rest of their teams of their upcoming mission so they could pack warm enough clothes. Undershirts on undershirts, all the jackets that could be spared. Thick socks and scarves and knitted masks.

You left the meeting and started packing immediately, grabbing some warmer clothes from storage.

“Will you help me pack?” Rey asked, walking in there right after you.

“Absolutely. You’re a desert girl. The key to not dying on Hoth is layers and layers and layers. Heavy layers. The opposite of what you’re used to, I’m sure.” You said, and she nodded. 

Out in the heat, light layers that covered your skin were necessary to keep the sun off your back. On Hoth, the air itself was trying to kill you.

You helped her pick a few undershirts, warm leggings and snow pants and snow jackets. Gloves and hats and goggles, and then the two of them hauled it all back to your room to lay it all out for the morning.

“Would you mind terribly if I spent the night in here? We’re leaving so early tomorrow, I thought…” Rey asked. She looked around. “I can sleep on the floor.”

“Oh no, here.” You reached up above your bed and pulled the second bunk out of the wall, the bunk you never used.

Her face lit up. “Oh! I didn’t know they did that!”

“They never gave me a roommate, I’m assuming because they wanted me to adjust to…being alive again. But the bed has always been here. Ideal for sleepovers, one might say.”

“Excellent.” Her arms were wrapped around herself. “There’s…there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you about.”

“Yeah, sure, what’s on your mind?” You asked. You fully expected it to be about you and Poe. Compared to what it actually was, you kind of wished it was about Poe. It would have been easier.

Instead, she said, “I’ve…been connecting to Kylo Ren a lot. I keep having dreams about him and…sometimes when we’re awake, I can see him and he can see me. Never where we are, but…we’ve been connected for some time. I’m not sure why. I was wondering if it was normal, or…how to stop it if it’s not.”

“I’ve never heard of something like that before.” You admitted, very serious. “Luke and I were definitely connected, but not like that. Is he…mean to you? You get nightmares about him?”

“They’re not really nightmares, they’re just…we talk. He’s wanted me to join him. I obviously wouldn’t. He’s…”

“Right.”

She took a breath, thinking. “Do you ever…feel the pull to the dark side?”

There it was. Leia had told you, a long time ago, that this was something Rey struggled with. And obviously, Ben had as well, but he’d lost his fight.

“I think we all do, Rey. There’s nothing wrong with you. The Force isn’t just light or dark, it’s both. When we use the Force, we all open ourselves up to the temptation of the dark side, abilities locked to us, the secrets it promises to share. No person is completely good or completely evil. I think Luke was pretentious about that. But he had to be, his dad was Vader, you know? He and Palpatine were constantly trying to get in his head.” You said, letting her think for a moment before saying. “You’re my friend, Rey. I see the light in you, I always have. You’ve been through so much pain, but still cling to hope. That’s all we can do. One fight at a time, one morning at a time, letting the Force guide us.”

She smiled at that, reaching for your hand. You gave it to her. “Thank you.”

“Any time.” You nodded. “We have to get you a new saber soon. Finn, too. I was thinking about asking Leia after the Hoth trip. Seeing if there’s any way we could get our hands on one. Or some kyber crystals. Unfortunately, those things are not just lying around.”

“A new saber?”

“It’s a coming of age thing. Traditionally, you start training with an heirloom saber, but eventually, you should build your own, unique to you and your journey. There’s no rush to do so, but I feel like you’re ready. Soren, too.”

She nodded. “That would be nice.”

Your door slid open and Poe came in, staring at the two of you wide-eyed. You were just lucky he didn’t hit you with the standard greeting of, “hey, baby, I got a cut, can you kiss it better?” Would have been a little harder to explain away.

“Oh. Hi, ladies.” He said, looking back and forth between you.

“Poe, do you know my code?” You asked him, eyes narrowing.

“Might have picked it up at some point…” He admitted.

“You’re looking awful recovered for someone who had an estimated three weeks of recovery ahead of them.” Rey said, arms crossed. “How did that happen, anyway?”

“Don’t look at me, look at her.” Poe said, pointing at you.

“Turns out, I’ve got some stuff to teach you, actually.” You told her. “Luke left us some notes.”

She pointed to his face, looking at you, impressed. “You did that?”

“Can’t take credit for all of it, but yeah. The rest is just good genetics.”

“Heh, thanks, Princess. Anyways, the guys were thinking of having a little thing out at the cantina if our Jedi would like to make an appearance.” Poe said, which explained the patterned button-down he was wearing, top buttons unbuttoned just far enough to reveal the Mariposan healer’s amulet underneath. “Before we all go freeze our asses off on Hoth.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” You chuckled, looking to Rey. “You coming?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” She smiled. “We’ll see you down there.”

***

You and Poe made your appearance at the party, separated from each other, which was…odd to anyone who knew you. You made your rounds, having a drink or two, joking and laughing and catching up. You talked about the mission, figuring out who all was going. Aspen was, as it turned out. It would be one of her first field missions. Rose was going too, to help get the heating system working so you didn’t all freeze to death spending the night there. Chewbacca was going, too, which brought back memories to say the very least.

You played a few rounds of Space Pong, danced with Rey, and then caught Poe’s eyes. He was holding a bottle of wine, standing by the door, eyes saying everything his mouth could not from that distance.

You got the hint.

He slipped out the door first and you followed after a few minutes, claiming to want to get to sleep earlier for the busy day ahead. You gave Rey your room code and then left, walking out towards the clearing.

You looked around for any sign of him, out in the dark, but you didn’t see him. Just before you reached out to see if the Force could guide you to him instead, he jumped out from behind a tree, grabbing you around the waist and spinning you around.

A surprised squeal fell from your mouth and he kissed up your neck, shushing you.

“Gotta be quiet if you don’t wanna get caught, your Highness.” He murmured, kissing behind your ear, voice soft and sultry.

“Been a while since you’ve hit me with the your Highness, Commander.” You chuckled as he set you down. You turned to face him, one hand tugging him in for a kiss.

“I can use it more often, if you want.”

You shook your head. “No thank you. I much prefer the other names you call me.”

He grinned. “Like Princess?”

You laughed, giving his chest a playful push, nose scrunched. “I don’t like that one either.”

He perked up. “Wait, you seriously don’t like your titles?”

“Not particularly.” You admitted with a shrug.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” He asked, fingers sliding into their natural place, intertwined with your own.

“Well, it’s just…I mean, they’re practical when people are slinging titles around, I guess. General this and Admiral that. A ‘your Highness’ is fine there. But I like when people just call me (Y/N). And I like when you call me all sorts of things.” You said, wrapping an arm around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips. “You can call me whatever you want, Poe. It always sounds right when you do it.”

His arm tentatively wrapped around your waist, still holding onto the wine bottle he’d snagged. “Well then, (Y/N), might I steal you away for the rest of the evening?”

“I’d be honored.”

The two of you walked up to the clearing together, hand in hand, swinging them between you as you stood beneath the stars. No wonder Poe loved flying so much. It looked like this all the time up there.

You sat on the grass, Poe beside you, leg against yours. He popped open the wine bottle and offered you the first sip. You almost giggled, tilting it back. You couldn’t count the times you’d been sitting just like that, sharing bottles with his mother. You had the same taste in wine, after all.

He took a drink from it next, setting it in the grass, twisting it a few times into the soft soil so it stood upright. He wrapped an arm around your waist, the other hand turning your face towards his, searching your eyes as though they held the keys to the universe.

He exhaled, staring at you like you were a painting in a museum and he was committing every detail to memory. “I’ve been fighting hard to keep the new recruits off of you.”

You giggled. “I heard about that. Apparently Jedi aren’t allowed to fall in love, huh?”

“Well, we’ll just have to hope that is a vicious rumor someone started.”

“Someone!” You laughed, pushing against his chest.

“Yeah, they must have gotten it wrong.” He said through a smile, arms grasping onto yours. “Because…this feels like that to me.”

He left the door open then, for you to say it in words. For him to say it back. And you did love him. Had for longer than you’d known. But saying it outright still felt wrong.

Instead, you replied, “I think we both know it is.”

He melted against you like a wave on the shore, sweet with the taste of the wine you were sharing, sip by sip. The two of you watched the sky for a while, sharing the wine until the bottle was nearly empty and the two of you were tipsy on the warm feelings swirling between you.

You barely noticed when the first raindrop fell. Nearly missed the second and third. But the downpour after was pretty hard to ignore.

“Maker, this came out of nowhere.” You said, wings flaring as you got to your feet. Poe stood beside you, eyes following a drop of water that trailed down your nose. “We should get back.”

“Wait,” Poe grabbed your arm, turning you towards him as he kissed you, his lips warm in the rain that was steadily soaking both of your clothes, your hair.

Your arms wandered up, hands linking around his neck as his wrapped around your waist, head tilting as a raindrop ran down the slope of his nose, onto your lips. You reached into his rain-soaked curls, grasping the collar of his jacket with the other hand. It was breathless, reckless, your heart racing in your chest flush with his as the lights of camp glowed in the distance.

Tomorrow, you’d be on a planet covered in feet of snow, but tonight, you stood in the warm rain, kissing Poe Dameron. There was no other place in the entire galaxy you’d rather be.

Eventually, you wandered back, held each other’s hands until you got close enough to get caught by whoever was on first watch. You nodded at acquaintances and coworkers, walking back to the housing quarters. Finn, Rey, and Rose were sitting in the front lounge when you came in, both absolutely soaked, head to toe.

“I thought you two came back here an hour ago.” Finn said, eyes narrowing.

“(Y/N) heard something outside. Concerning noises. I offered to go check it out with her, but we got caught in this kriffin’ downpour.” Poe said, taking off his jacket and shaking the water from it. He’d thought about letting you wear it for the walk back, but you were both already soaked. And you showing up in his jacket would only be more incriminating.

You shook our your wings in the same manner, water splattering across the floor. A cleaner droid powered up automatically, its brushes swirling to dry up the rain you’d tracked in. “Thanks for the help, Dameron.”

“No problem, yo–” he caught himself. “(Y/N). Glad to be of assistance. Have a good night.”

“You, too. See you tomorrow.” You said, walking back towards your quarters, Rey trailing after you, that knowing glimmer in her eye.

The two of you got dressed for bed, brushed your teeth, and got into your bunks, you on the bottom, Rey on the top. It was kind of comforting, the sound of her breathing. You’d missed having a roommate. Maybe after the trip, it wouldn’t hurt to open your door to a bunkmate again. But then that would severely limit your cuddling time with Poe, given that he also shared a room…

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and willing yourself to sleep, lulled by the warmth in Poe’s chest across the hallway as he thought of you while he drifted off.

Hoth

The next morning, you and Rey got out of bed pretty early, throwing on the layers and layers of your cold weather uniforms. Jedi robes simply would not cut it on that planet. You’d learned that lesson once before.

You strapped your saber to your belt, a blaster to the other side, and set a pair of goggles on your head to protect your eyes once you got there. You met the others in the canteen to grab meals for the road, and then headed out to the transports, where the rest of the crew was slowly but surely assembling.

Soren was all smiles, helping Poe and Finn load up some boxes of supplies. Food, mostly. There was nearly nothing edible on that planet, aside from the wildlife, that was. But that would only be an option if the weather was nice enough to not immediately kill anyone brave enough to hunt out there. Nice being a relative term, of course.

“Ready for your first mission?”

“Yeah.” He replied, a boyish grin on his face. “Is it really that cold there?”

“Freezing cold. Constant blizzards. Trust me, you’d rather have too many layers than too few.” You advised. “Morning Finn! Poe.”

“You are looking rather…” Poe’s eyes scanned down your figure, obscured by the puffy jacket you were wearing. “Warm.”

“That’s one way to put it.” You chuckled. “You are not looking warm enough. Get those ears covered, Dameron.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave a nod, winking when he thought no one was looking.

Rose was coming along, Aspen, Black Squadron along with some of the new pilots. It would be a good mission for them, a relatively straightforward one. Well, in theory. Nothing was ever as simple as it seemed.

Chewbacca roared in greeting, his hand patting your head before he pulled you into a bear hug. You laughed, nodding.

“No, you’re right, I never thought I’d ever go back there either.”

Leia stood at the edge of the depot, smiling softly. She waved and you saluted, promising silently to get them all back to her in one piece, hopefully with endless bounties that would serve the Resistance well.

You and Soren said a quick, heartfelt goodbye to Laesynda and then loaded up into the transport with the others, watching as the planet got smaller and smaller.

You sat beside Rey and Soren on one side of the transport, Finn and Poe across the aisle with Snap. Chewbacca was driving, Threepio in the passenger seat up in front with him. You bent over and laced up your boots extra well, making sure your gloves were on tight enough, even though it was quite a ways out. Your wings twitched every so often, nerves building.

Suddenly, you weren’t so sure why would had suggested this place to begin with. You didn’t have many great memories of Hoth. Specifically, the outside stuff. Inside the base was fine, when the heaters were working as intended, that was. But the creatures outside were terrifying, and the weather had almost killed you. Literally.

Maybe you hadn’t prepared them well enough.

You felt Poe poking around your energy across the aisle, or trying to. Thinking very loudly. Reaching, watching. You met his eyes, giving him a pointed look.

He chuckled out loud, caught in the act, cheeks flushing red. Finn and Rey both turned to find out what was so funny. You focused your attention elsewhere and he blamed his chuckles on just how kriffing ridiculous you all looked, bundled up like marshmallows. It got a good laugh out of everyone.

Dread settled into your stomach as Chewie brought the transport out of lightspeed and into the planet’s atmosphere, the white globe familiar in the sickest of ways. He landed as close to the abandoned base as possible, but it would still be a bit of a walk.

You stood, taking a small canister from your pack while everyone bundled the rest of the way up. It was a specialty gel coating for your wings. You took a glob, gently rubbing between your fingers before spreading it carefully from the base of your wings outward. Soren did the same, making quick work of it.

“Can I help?” Poe asked, voice gentle, quiet, in case the answer was no because there were people around.

You nodded, handing the canister to him, showing him how to portion it and he helped, fingers gentle and careful, but thorough, grazing over the pink and purple extensions of your soul.

“What does this stuff do?” He asked, curious. He was always so curious about your wings. It was sweet, really.

“Protects them from the cold. Otherwise, they’d freeze.” You explained. “They’re delicate things, after all.”

“Beautiful, though.” He said, eyes warm, voice warmer.

“I happen to think they’re my best feature.” You said with a smirk, lost in him for a moment. His fingers gently finished up, fully sealing them from the harsh winds. You were ready.

You assembled the essential team. You, Rey, and Soren to move big chunks out of the way, and a handful of mechs to get the heating started as soon as possible. Plus, Chewbacca and a few fighters in case some scavengers were in the wreckage and didn’t take kindly to strangers.

“We’ll hold down the fort here.” Finn said, sticking an earpiece in his ear, same as the others.

“Good. Stay together. No one wanders off alone. Keep bundled up. Cover your skin. Even a few minutes out there can give you frostbite.” You instructed everyone. They nodded, listening intently.

“Good luck out there.” Snap said. He smiled a little, watching as you took control of the situation. Despite your appearance, you were wise and experienced beyond your years. “And may the Force be with you.”

You met his eyes. “And with us all.”

You led the others through the snow and blistering winds, face shielded by your mask, hood, and goggles.

The doors were sealed shut, thankfully. You held up a hand, working in tandem with Rey and Soren to pop it open without too much trouble. Three Jedi were far better than one. You could only imagine the things you’d be able to accomplish when Finn was with you, too.

Inside, a ceiling panel had collapsed, a great rush of snow covering a stairwell and one of the hallways leading to the bedrooms. You led the mechs to the utility room, where the controls for the heaters were while Rey and Soren worked to seal off the hole, holding the metal in place so it could be sautered shut, at least temporarily.

Chewbacca did a sweep of the perimeter, as quickly as he could, blocking off a decent chunk so you could get settled at least for now. You didn’t want to leave the rest of the team in the transport for too long.

With a triumphant thrum, the power kicked on, lights in the hallways flickering before illuminating the place in the stark, fluorescent lights. The team cheered, signaling to the others that it was safe to come in. And they did, marching up the hill in their snow boots. They’d have to try to move the transport closer later, you figured. Otherwise, loading the place up was going to be nearly impossible.

You walked down the hallway with the bedroom quarters, taking note of their state. Most of them looked fine. Dusty, but fine otherwise. You kept walking until you found the one you were looking for. Seventh room on the left. You punched in your code, still committed to muscle memory after three months spent sleeping there.

You stepped inside, careful, and looked around the room. It wasn’t terribly small, one of the perks of having a base dug into the inside of a mountain. Two bunks rested against the right side of the room, a small desk on the left, a wardrobe standing beside it. A few pairs of boots were sitting beside the door, under the floor-length mirror that was slowly defrosting as the temperature raised.

A book of notes sat open on the desk, a frozen inkwell perched on the corner in front of a few dust-covered books.

“This is quite the place.” Poe noted, stepping into the tiny room after you. “Bigger than I thought it would be.”

“Took the crew three years to dig it out.” You remembered, fingers lingering on the cold desk. “I only lived here for three months.”

“Is this…?”

“Our room.” You said, turning to look at him. “Shara and I.”

He’d taken off his goggles, the headband around his head. You dared to take off a glove. It was definitely warming up, slowly but surely. You shed your goggles too, threading the band through your belt.

He stared at the bottom bunk, where his mother’s name was painted in blue, the Aurebesh crisp and neat. His fingers slid across the letters.

You turned back to the desk, flipping through the journal. They were notes, mostly. Your notes, from your Jedi training. “I forgot about this book. It would have helped after Luke left.”

“Luke left you? Another time?”

“He went off to Dagobah to train with Yoda. I stayed with the Resistance–sorry, Rebels. They needed me. Or one of us, at the very least. Han and Leia were off dealing with…all sorts of stuff. I didn’t catch up with them until it was too late.” You said, continuing to flip through it until you found what you were looking for. Tucked between the pages was a scrap of paper Shara had scribbled on.

(Y/N),

Thanks for letting me borrow your earrings. Please get some sleep after that crazy night. I’ll save you some bacon before the pathfinders get to it.

-Shara

In the note, there were two small holes, where she’d punctured the earrings to make sure they got back to you in one piece.

You handed it to Poe, letting him read it. He smiled, eyes swirled with nostalgia and sadness. He forgot sometimes, but this was all the confirmation he needed. You had been friends with her. Passed notes back and forth like schoolgirls.

“Can I keep this?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

He reached for you, pulling you to his chest and resting his head against yours. It healed something in him, he was sure. Part of him, growing up without her, always mourned the fact that he would never get to introduce his future partner to her, the woman who had inspired him to fly in the first place, the woman whose ring he wore around his neck. But you’d already met her. And it was clear she’d been fond of you. It felt like fate, to him.

“Was Dad here, too?”

“Down the hall.” You nodded. “Three doors down on the left.”

“You two taking this one?” Finn asked, poking into the room. “We’re all picking quarters for the night.”

“Yeah, we’ll take this one.” Poe said, pointing to your name painted across the top bunk. “I’d say she’s probably got dibs.”

Finn smiled. “Fair.” His eyes wandered to the bottom bunk. “Who’s that?”

“My mom was her roommate.” Poe explained, eyes twinkling.

“I didn’t know your parents were Resistance.”

“They were Rebels.” Poe corrected gently. He nudged you with his arm, pride absolutely radiating off of him. “So was she.”

***

After hours of harvesting materials and packing up supplies into crates, Chewie had taken some of the others to hunt, most of them crazy thrillseekers that were desperate to experience the cold out there and see if it was really that bad. Rookies, in other words.

They were successful. They’d found a mammal of some kind. Nothing you recognized. Definitely not a Wampa. And everyone seemed to be okay, more or less.

“It’s kriffing cold as shit out there!” One of the rookies exclaimed, taking off their gloves.

“Nooooo, I never would have guessed.” You said quietly, nursing a cup of tea near the firepit in one of the lounges. There was a furnace that ran up through the mountain to vent the smoke.

Chewie got the beast ready, showing the rookies how to prepare the meat, how to cook it properly. You watched fondly. It brought back memories, it all did.

You’d finally taken off your jacket, just wearing a pair of sweats with a layer of leggings underneath, a sweater with a hole stitched in the back for your wings. You were working on another top by the fire, pulling the needle through, hemming the hole so it wouldn’t fray.

“What are you doing?” Finn asked, watching as you worked.

“Most of my clothes have to be modified like this for these things.” You waved a wing around aimlessly. “If I don’t, the fabric will fray and it’ll ruin the garment. I usually hem it as best as I can to reinforce it.”

“They don’t really make clothes for us anymore.” Soren said, familiar with the process, you were sure, having a pair of wings of his own. “Mom said there were seamstresses on Mariposas who made the most beautiful things we could wear with our wings. She still has some of them.”

“They were the coolest ladies ever. They’re the ones who taught me to do this. Knew I was gonna run off with the Rebellion and that most of their uniforms wouldn’t work for me.” You said, tying off the stitches with a little knot. You showed your work to Poe, who was sitting just too far, a few scooches to your right. You’d sewn a little X-Wing near the base of the slot, orange stitches on black fabric.

He smiled into his mug of warm caf, eyebrow quirking up the tiniest bit. You were his girl, after all. His chest swelled with pride at any reminder.

You set the garment to the side, following the others once Chewie was dishing out servings of food. Everyone settled in with a hot meal, like old times.

“What was it like out here back then?” Snap asked, everyone watching you and Chewie for answers. “What did you guys do out here for those months?”

“Hiding, mostly. It was the perfect base for that. The Empire never thought they’d find us on an oversized ice cube. It’s mostly uninhabitable, as many of you just learned. Signal was iffy out here, but we worked with what we had. We used to make what we called Hoth Ice Cream. We’d mix the cream from our milk batches with sugar and crushed berries and stick it outside for a few minutes until it froze.”

Chewie roared, explaining just how little you had to work with. How far your scraps had to stretch.

“Oh we were always scrappy. Had to be, we had so little. These days, we’ve got some support. Back then…no one wanted to stand up to Vader. Rebels were few and far between and we had a pretty bad reputation. I believe the word ‘Scum’ got thrown around a lot.”

Chewie laughed, nodding. He told a few stories about the tauntauns, about Luke’s encounter with the Wompa, wondering if there were more of them.

“I nearly froze to death out there.” You confessed, feeling the way Poe’s eyes jumped to you. “One of our communication dishes got caked in ice, so I flew up there to try to dig it out. Wind blew me off the roof and Chewie found me out in the snow, half dead. Carried me back, cuddled me to warmth. Saved my life.”

He roared affectionately, tilting his head.

“Of course I would have done the same for you, but I’m not nearly as warm as you. I don’t think my body temperature alone would have done much.” You chuckled.

He joked about you using your wings as a fan the next time he was really hot, and you agreed to that.

You told them about the music. At some point, you’d let it slip to the Rebels that music was a very important part of Mariposan culture, so the team had improvised instruments out of scraps. Drums made from scrapped ship parts and pieces of leather Chewie tanned, flutes carved from thick pine tree branches. You got up and dug around a box in the corner of the room, pulling one out. Hand-carved.

“One of the pathfinders made this for me.” You said, walking back to your spot and sitting down, dusting it off, brushing the mouthpiece with your sleeve before giving it a cursory test. It worked, making a gentle note when you blew into it. You tested some of the finger holes, trying out different combinations and building a clumsy little melody from home.

The room was quiet, listening as you played. You smiled, bashful beneath their combined gazes, and tucked the flute away.

Artoo beeped and rolled into the middle of the room, BB-8 watching from his corner. Into the air, he projected a video, Rebels singing and dancing to folk songs from their various home planets. Drums banging, someone hitting spoons against pots and pans. Flutes and improvised fiddles. Light and laughter.

In the back corner of the room, you and Luke danced, lost in each other. He spun you around, pulling you back to him. He looked so young there.

Shara was sitting next to Kes, who was drumming on one of the drums. He got boisterous with it, making Shara laugh, a melody in itself. Glimmering around her finger was the ring Poe wore around his neck.

He reached for your hand and you gave it to him, watching this piece of your life Artoo had been holding onto for all this time. You wondered what else he had stored in that seemingly endless memory of his. 

Poe’s thumb brushed over yours, and he used his foot to tug your chair closer to his, unwilling to be apart from you any longer, despite what the others would think. It seemed none of them noticed, or maybe they thought it was par for the course at that point. Poe had never been shy about touching you, or anybody, really, even before you had been dating in secret.

He smiled at you, eyes soft. And for a moment, you were glad you’d come. You were glad he was there with you.

Eventually, the guys found the alcohol that hadn’t exploded after thirty years frozen and the room cheered up significantly.

Rose motioned you over and you sat on the floor in front of her while she braided your hair. Rey shared a cup of something strong with you and you took a few sips, leaning back against Rose’s legs.

“Hey, when did you get this?” Rey asked, touching the woven leather bracelet on your wrist. “Is it new? I’ve never seen it before.”

“Oh! Yeah, uh…Poe got it for me.” You smiled.

“Poe got it for you, huh?” Rose asked. “That was nice of him. I didn’t realize you two were so close.”

“Yeah, we’ve really bonded since I woke up.” You said with a smile and a shrug, glancing over at him. “We keep…finding each other.”

He was knelt on the floor in front of Artoo, talking to him about something. You assumed he was probably trying to get a copy of that footage. You didn’t blame him. Droids, though pretty common, were still not something everyone had, especially back then. Artoo was probably one of the only droids with footage of his parents.

The other pilots started up a game of Truth or Dare, and it worked around and around the circle. You giggled at the antics, at the spicy secrets people spilled with their resolve weakened by liquid courage. Yours was dwindling, too. You were one well-placed dare away from kissing Poe Dameron hot on the mouth, right in front of everyone.

You supposed it was good luck, then, that he was the one asking you that fateful question.

“Truth.” You replied, knees tucked into your chest, hair braided down your shoulders like you were a teen at a sleepover. In some ways, you guessed you were.

“Why don’t you like it when people use your royal titles?” He asked, eyebrow quirking up in that signature expression of his. That Dameron smolder. He had used it to get the upper hand on many unsuspecting maidens, you were sure. It always did something to you.

“Mmmm, alright.” You thought, chuckling. “Poe, you can ask me any question in the galaxy right now, are you sure you want to waste it on that?”

“Yep. I want to know.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, sitting across the circle from you, painfully far away. This drunk, you wanted him next to you. Another drink and you’d be sprawled all over him, didn’t matter who was watching. “Why do you squirm every time someone calls you Princess?”

“Princess isn’t the worst. I don’t mind that one so much.” You said. “I don’t like the ‘your Highnesses.’ They just…maybe it’s stupid, I don’t know, but…everyone on base earned their titles. Everyone. Every general and admiral and captain and commander, all of ‘em. They all earned those fancy words and I did not. I was born a special person and got my titles handed to me on a silver platter. It feels like stolen valor. Even Leia’s a general now, and…yeah, that’s kind of it. Just feels icky sometimes.”

“You’ve earned them.” Finn said, eyes serious. “You’ve more than earned them.”

“You’re too kind, Finnley.” You replied, a hand on your heart.

“Finnley…” Finn chuckled to himself at the elongated name.

“No, he’s right. That first day I saw you in action, I knew you were the real deal.” Snap said, sounding impressed. Really, genuinely impressed. “All the stories started to make sense, the way you flipped through the air.”

“A Jedi of old…” Jessika agreed, Rey nodding along.

“And you wear those little crowns sometimes. Princesses usually wear those.” Aspen added, sitting beneath one of Chewbacca’s fur-covered arms, cuddled against his side.

You laughed at that one. “Valid point. I don’t know, I’m warming up to them. But you all can call me (Y/N), also. We’re friends.”

“Mom wanted to work titles out with you after the war.” Soren said. “She’s…well, she’s acting queen now, but technically–”

“Oh no I do not want to be queen.” You shut that down, holding up your hand. “That’s where the line is drawn. I was second-born. I was never supposed to be queen in the first place and then I died. Your mother earned that title. She’s been here, boots on the ground, helping the remaining Mariposans. She’s the queen and I’ll tell her that myself, Prince Soren.”

He grinned. “Why did I have a feeling you’d say something like that?”

“Because you know me so well, dearest nephew. Now, where were we…ah, yes, Rey, truth or dare?”

She smiled. “It’s going to have to be dare.”

The game continued until the group began to dwindle, retiring for bed one by one. Chewbacca put out the fire and the heaters were turned down slightly to conserve power overnight. If you guys blew a fuse, you were fucked. Heat was a commodity that could not be wasted on a planet like Hoth.

You walked back to the room before Poe did, tossing an extra blanket up to your top bunk. The beds here were smaller than your bunk back home. If you and Poe had a tight fit in the other bed, this would be near impossible. For that reason, you’d probably sleep separate.

You climbed up top, as you had done so many times, and sat up there, scrolling through your holo, making plans for the next day. It was a big one. X-Wing repair was the big ticket thing, unburying them from the snow that had drifted into the hangar. Everyone else would be working on packing up everything that wasn’t nailed down, and, well, some of the stuff that was nailed down.

The door slid open and Poe walked in, kicking off his boots while BB-8 rolled onto his charging mat. Finn peeked in after them.

“Goodnight, (Y/N)!”

“Night, Finn! See you tomorrow.” You said with a smile.

“Bright and early.” Poe added with a grin.

The door slid shut and he walked right over to the bunk bed, standing in front of you, expectant. Poe was not an overly tall individual, so his head cleared the top, but nothing else.

You raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you with something?”

“You want me up top or are you coming down here?”

“I don’t know if you’ve seen these beds with your eyes, but…they are pretty small, flyboy.”

“We’ve managed worse.” He grinned, resting his arms on the railing, looking up at you with those pretty brown eyes, eyelashes oh so dark and beautiful. “Won’t you get cold up there all by yourself?”

You laughed. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“Well in that case, goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.” He leaned forward.

You took his face in your hands, kissing him deeply. He crooned at your touch, standing on his toes to chase your lips before finally pulling away and tucking into his mother’s bunk on the bottom.

***

About an hour later, the lack of heat really started to make itself evident. You weren’t sure what Rose had set it to for the night, but whatever it was had your toes freezing and teeth chattering.

Wordlessly, Poe got out of his bed, the fabric rustling in the bunk beneath you, and stood, his head clearing the top so you were nearly face to face. He waited expectantly for you to break the silence, to admit he was right.

“Alright, get in here.” You relented, lifting the covers.

He tossed his blanket up first and then climbed in after you, the tight quarters causing every piece of his body to be touching every part of yours. Talk about cozy. It made the X-Wing cockpit look like a five-star hotel room.

He laughed softly. “You were right. It is gonna be a tight fit.”

“And you were right about it being too cold.” You said, voice rasped with sleep.

“Here, let me…” He wiggled the two of you into a better position, him almost entirely beneath you, broad shoulders still boxed into the narrow bunk. He wrapped a warm arm around your waist, legs intertwined.

You adjusted the third blanket atop the two of you, wings tucked under, and then settled back on top of him, letting out a long, contented sigh at the warmth. “You comfortable?”

“Mmhmm.” He hummed, unable to stop smiling at you, oh so close to him. “Can you imagine if we really weren’t seeing each other and the others found us like this?”

“We’d never hear the end of it.” You laughed at the thought. “You guys, seriously, we were both just cold.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I really thought I could hold out. Not say anything until after the war was over. Find you in the crowd after whatever final battle, confess it all then and there. All romantic and heroic. And we’d kiss and the crowd would cheer and we’d fly in my X-Wing, off into the sunset with BB-8 in the back seat.”

You huffed a laugh. “Had it all planned out, huh?”

“This is better, though.” He admitted, thumb circling your hipbone.

“It’s a good thing I didn’t let you make the first move, like I was planning.” You said, tilting your head up to kiss the corner of his lips. “Saved us both a lot of pining and heartache.”

“To be fair, I was going to make a move during our little joyride that never happened.” Poe said. “I know it was kind of a joke, that it was a date, but it was real to me.”

“It was real to me, too.” You murmured, nose pressed against his cheek. “I could feel it coming. I knew you had feelings for me. But, of course, Kylo Ren has the worst timing in the galaxy.”

“Seriously. Fuck that guy.”

“Agreed.” Your fingers curled against his chest, his heartbeat steady and strong. You leaned up and pressed a soft, sleepy kiss to his lips, eyelids growing heavy, aided by the gentle lulling of his warmth. He was always warm. You had never been more grateful for it than now.

He smiled, skin moving beneath your lips. He rocked you gently, voice sleepy and playful. “You driftin’?”

“Mmm…” You nodded against him. “Getting there.”

“Good. Get some sleep, baby. Maker knows we’ll need it. Someone’s gotta use the Force to dig out those X-Wings tomorrow and it’s not gonna be me.”

Looking Forward, Looking Back

BB-8’s chirping alarm woke the two of you in the absence of sunlight. There were no windows in your room, being carved into a mountain and all. Your face was pressed into the crook of Poe’s neck, warmth encasing you, his dark curls tousled and fluffy.

He groaned softly, skin vibrating against yours. You kissed his cheek, long and gentle, a silent greeting. The groan melted into something else, then, as if he remembered you were perched there on top of him, like a wonky weighted blanket.

“Maker, what a way to wake up.” He murmured, nose brushing against yours on the way to your lips. “Can we do this every morning?”

“You’d have to break the news to Finn that you don’t want to be roommates anymore.” You reasoned, finding his hand and threading your fingers through his.

He hummed, thinking it over. “Well, you could come stay in our room.”

You laughed out loud. “Three is company. Might get a little too cozy in there.”

“Yeah…Well…we can negotiate.”

“Sure, I’ll let you pitch that one to him. And Bee can have my room all to himself.”

BB-8 chirped in approval, which made you laugh.

“How the hell are we going to get out of this bed?” Poe wondered, taking stock of the two of you, packed in like sardines.

“Carefully.” You giggled, trying to sit up. “Your specialty, flyboy.”

Poe used the railing to tug himself upright and you reached into his messy curls, gently combing them with your fingers into some sense of order. He grinned at you, eyes twinkling in the dim room, leaning forward and capturing your lips, like you were his first meal of the day.

Eventually, you pulled apart, peppering kisses across his cheeks. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Never could, but especially when you had moments alone like this.

“Poe.” You said, giggling as he reconnected his lips to yours, rhythm smooth and slow, but steady.

“What?”

“We’ve gotta go.” You murmured against him as the kisses continued.

“Mmhmm.” He nipped at your bottom lip, hand framing your cheek, keeping your face close to his. “Give me a minute. I’m busy.”

You laughed, hands resting on his chest as he deepened the kiss. Warmth tumbled from him onto you. Someday, you’d get a real vacation. A getaway. Once the galaxy was at peace again, and the First Order had been destroyed.

But now, you had work to do. A lot of it, before you could head back to base.

“Come on, hotshot. The sooner we get this done, the more time we can spend doing this in a bed that doesn’t completely box in those shoulders of yours.”

“Now that’s a good point.” He grinned, brushing the hair out of your eyes while pulling you in for one last kiss.

You flexed your wings as best you could in the limited space and flipped down over the railing, giving him room to get down.

You swapped out your layers, bundling up all over again. Undershirts, shirt, jacket, coat, plus your headwear, gloves tucked into your pockets. You laced up your boots and followed Poe out to the mess hall, where Chewbacca was serving leftovers from the day before for breakfast.

After, you, Soren, and Rey followed the pilots and mechs out to the hangar, assessing the damage. Wedge had been right. Four X-Wings. Unfortunately, the hangar doors had been left open, letting in thirty years of snow and ice.

First order of business, you did a sweep to make sure there weren’t any scavengers or creatures hiding out inside. Then you reached up, using the Force to pull the massive hangar door shut. The metal creaked and rumbled, dust falling from the mechanism as it lowered into place, enclosing the space in total darkness.

Rey reached for her saber, the blue lighting up the dark. Soren lit his after, and then you, Poe’s face awash in the pink hue, wonder in his eyes. Someone found the lightswitch and the overheads flickered a few times before kicking on. You powered down your saber and approached the nearest X-Wing, not nearly as buried as the ones closer to the opening.

“What’s your professional opinion, Commander?” You asked, arms crossed, looking it over. “Where do you want me to start?”

“Well, the wings would be a good spot, probably. The engines. We’re gonna have to pop her open to see if her parts still work.”

“Alright. Everybody stand back.” You advised, taking a few steps further from it yourself. You focused on the ice, using the Force to crack it into smaller pieces that could be pulled off of it. Then, you lifted the X-Wing into the air, straining to do so from the sheer weight of it alone. Rey joined, taking some of the pressure off, and you two set it atop the layer of snow on the ground, so they could get to it easier.

You all repeated this process for the following three X-Wings, getting them uncovered in record time. The pilots and mechs set to work, trying to see what all was in working order, what needed to be fixed or replaced. Wedge had given them the records he had from the olden days, but it was hard to tell what was still accurate.

In the meantime, you turned your attention to helping the demo crew scrap some of the internal walls and structures that were not lodebearing. Shelves, furniture, cabinets, that kind of thing.

Chewie led the crew, pointing things out, directing the rookies where they needed to be. Threepio translated for him as necessary and you used the Force to take some pieces down.

You fluttered higher, using your wings to help empty some of the higher shelves, taking them down one screw at a time.

Snap and Chewie went out into the snow to move the Transport closer. It would help, no doubt, as you all started to move things.

You and Rey went through the closets of each room to see if there were any stray blasters sitting around, uniforms that weren’t too outdated, even decent walking boots, taking anything that was useful and putting it in a wagon.

It was a productive day. At the end of it, you all had another dinner. It would be your last night there, if everything went to plan. The X-Wings seemed to be in working order. They’d run a brief test, and then take off first, escorting the transports to safety. There’d been one in the hangar as well, that some of the mechs had fixed up without too much trouble.

Weather seemed good for it, too. Any longer than that and you all risked getting stranded in a blizzard. Well, more of a blizzard than what was already raging outside those doors.

The evening was quiet. Everyone was tired from a long day of work. Carrying things, moving cargo, packing, and loading things until it was all ready to go. You sat on the floor in the mess hall, head leaned on Rey’s shoulder, Rose’s legs spread over yours.

You fiddled with the bracelet around your wrist, a small smile tugging at your lips when Poe made eye contact from across the room. His eyes wandered to the bracelet and he grinned, proud. He was sitting with Soren and Finn, talking about something with some of the other pilots.

Jessika came over and sat with you. In the corner of the room, Snap and Karé were talking, awfully close to each other. Touches lingering. Jess traced your gaze and said, “Oh, did you not know? Snap and Karé are married.”

“Huh? I did not know that. Wow.” You processed the information. It was like learning Wedge was Snap’s step-dad all over again. There was more to Snap then you thought, perhaps. Maybe a nice long conversation with him was in order. “They’re good together.”

Poe walked over, taking a seat beside you. He elbowed you lightly, smiling. You could tell he was starting to wind down, looking a little tired. “What are we talking about, ladies?”

“I just learned that Snap and Karé are married.”

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, they’re great together.” Poe grinned.

Jessika chuckled. “Yeah, they are. You ever…dated someone on base?”

“Yeah.” You admitted. “I’m no stranger to wartime romance.”

“She and Luke were…” Rey began to explain, letting Jessika fill in the blanks. “You know.”

“I did not know.” Jessika said, eyes wide. “Wow…that’s really…”

“Yeah, I know.” You shrugged. You felt Poe’s eyes on you, the way his chest began to burn. A twinge of jealousy hidden behind that famed Dameron smirk. “But, uh, I’m not completely closed off to dating this time around. I’m fifty-four, not eighty.”

“You look great for your age, Princess.” Poe complimented, eyes sparkling. He raised an eyebrow, voice dipping into mischief territory. “That mean I’ve got a shot?”

You laughed, heart racing at the look in his eye. “I dunno. Trigger-happy flyboys are not my usual type, but…never say never.”

“Keeping your options open?” Rose asked. “I know about twelve rookies who would die for the chance.”

“Oh I know. Been fighting them off with this saber of mine.” You chuckled. “They’re determined, I’ll give ‘em, that, but…”

“She’s already got a crush on someone.” Poe said, forcing his tone to be casual. “Doesn’t want to hurt their feelings.”

“We’ll go with that, yeah.” You agreed, letting out a yawn that Poe mirrored not long after.

The two of you decided to head to bed, exhausted. You bid the others goodbye and led him down the winding hallways, back to your shared room. The door opened with a whir and you stepped inside, BB-8 rolling into his corner.

Poe turned you to face him, hand tilting your face up towards his and kissing you, slowly. Sensually. Every movement was deliberate and careful. His tongue swiped at the edge of your lip, the other hand tugging your waist impossibly close, chest flush to his.

“Trigger-happy flyboy, eh?” He asked between kisses, teeth nipping at your lip as your arms latched around him, fingers toying with the curls at the base of his neck.

“Yeah. Might even have a crush on him.” You murmured, echoing his words.

“You drive me crazy.” Poe rasped, movements picking up speed, momentum, like an X-Wing headed towards a crash. Inevitable.

You smiled against him, meeting his gaze with starlit eyes. “I know.”

“Go to sleep, Bee. I don’t want you to see this.” He said, a rasp at the edge of his voice, sending a shot of electricity straight through you.

You heard BB-8 power down for the night. Poe wasted no time hooking your knees with his strong hands, tugging your legs up onto his hips and carrying you to the top bunk. You tore your boots off, chucking them across the room with a noisy thud as he climbed up the ladder, throwing his shoes off after. He pulled you on top of him, as you had been the night before, but this time, his hands were everywhere, lips exploring yours. He tugged your knee higher, moaning into your mouth as you played with his hair, giving his thick curls a gentle tug.

He kissed you eagerly, like he’d been waiting for it all day. You knew that was the case. You slotted a leg between his, leaning on his chest. Your other hand stayed anchored to his jaw, thumb brushing through the scruff on his cheek, a little longer than he usually let it get. It suited him, though. All of it did.

You let yourself imagine him a little older. Some gray in his hair, in his beard. Curls a little longer. Maybe he’d need reading glasses. You smiled at the thought, kissing him again, deeper, cherishing the little chuckle he let out when you did.

It sank in then that you wanted to grow old with him, and you were struck by the thought, movements slowing.

Life after the war was already a fantasy to you, but you never let yourself see the life you wanted. Those years of peace after. You’d had two of them, only to have it all ripped away from you, to be frozen at twenty-four for thirty years. But this time, you knew it was different. This time, you would get to stay.

So you let your mind wander. Guided by the Force or your own desires, you weren’t sure. But you saw him there, in casual wear, a few more years on that handsome face. A wedding ring on his finger. Lines that crinkled around those warm eyes. He laughed at something, the sound like music to you. You loved it. Loved him.

Poe could feel it when you slipped. Always could. That lull that hit you when you were zoned in, or zoned out rather. He held you, kisses slowing to a stop, watching, waiting for you to come back to him, for the Force to set you back in his arms.

It was strange, loving a Jedi. But he loved every second. Loved you.

“You’re having some big thoughts tonight.” He finally murmured, voice impossibly soft, like said thoughts were made of glass. You were back now, thumb stroking his cheek again. Breaths back to their regular cadence.

“Yeah.” Your voice broke, tears welling in your eyes.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Oh, hey, it’s okay. What’s goin’ on in that pretty head?”

“Nothing.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “I just…I…”

“You don’t have to tell me.” He handed you a boundary if you so wanted it.

“I just saw…you. After the war. Older and happy. And it just…got to me, I guess.” You admitted, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“A vision?”

“I hope so.” You shrugged, hand resting on his chest, smoothing out the fabric of his undershirt. Back home, he didn’t wear one to sleep, usually. On Hoth, the extra layer was necessary.

He wiped at your tears with his gentle thumbs, pulling you in for a long kiss. “I want that, too. But only if you’re there with me. A little gray in this pretty hair of yours. Not as much as me, of course. I am eight whole years older than you.”

You laughed through tears, surging forward to kiss him again.

“You want kids? We’ve never talked about it.” He asked, playing with your hair with one hand, the other brushing down the length of your wing. You rested your head on his chest, ear pressed to his heart.

“I do. Some little Jedi. One little pilot.”

He kissed your forehead, lips curled into a smile. “They’ll get my curls and your eyes. Big, beautiful wings like their mother.”

“I hope so.” You smiled, staring at him, eyes memorizing his face, just like this. You nuzzled your nose against his, melting against his lips. “I want it, Poe. So bad. I want to…get to live my life this time.”

“You will.” He promised, eyes serious, twinkling like stars. He took your hand and kissed each of your knuckles, lingering just a little longer on the ring finger, where someday, he’d slide his mother’s ring.

***

The next morning, last checks were performed. Threepio went over inventory, and Chewbacca did a final sweep, making sure everything and everyone was accounted for before you all started loading up into the transports and the four repaired X-Wings.

Poe walked over to you, both of you bundled up, though him less than you. You were headed to the same place, would be in ships side by side, but it was still a loaded goodbye building between the two of you, especially after the conversation you’d had the night before.

“You good to go, Commander?”

“All set, your Highness.” He replied, voice cradling the word so carefully. You didn’t mind it so much when he said it. “See you on the other side.”

You took a step closer. “See you at home.”

His face broke out into that flyboy grin, like he’d just won the lottery.

You walked through the base with the others who would be taking the transport out front, the one you’d arrived in. But before you got onto the ramp, you saw them. First Order soldiers on the ground, a shrouded figure leading them.

Your instinct said Kylo, but your heart knew it wasn’t.

TIE fighters flew overhead.

“Poe, we’ve got First Order fighters in the air. Troops on the ground.” Finn said into his earpiece.

You stared ahead as they approached, reaching for your saber, Soren beside you. Neither of you had coated your wings. Hadn’t expected to be outside for longer than a minute. There was no time to do it now.

You launched yourself forward, igniting your saber mid-air as giant snowflakes fell. Stormtrooper fire resounded, beams of red bouncing towards the handful of Resistance members there. You used your saber to take out as many as you could before confronting the man in the hood.

It wasn’t Kylo Ren. He was wearing a mask, but it was different. He raised a hand, trying to disarm your saber and failing.

“After all these years, I was hoping you’d died in that pod, dear princess.” The voice that came out of him said. Muffled, distorted like Kylo’s, but not Kylo.

“You’re gonna wish I did.” You breathed, giving your saber a twirl.

He unveiled his own, a dual bladed red saber, the blade unstable like Kylo’s, but familiar to you. You knew this saber. This saber knew you.

A chill ran up your spine and you launched into attack, deflecting hits from both ends of the staff-like weapon. Soren joined you, his movements careful. Scared. This was his first fight with anyone who intended to harm him.

The X-Wings cruised around the mountain, taking out a handful of TIEs in their sweep through the air. The second transport came around as well, Rey emerging from within, saber at the ready.

The hooded man took note of Soren’s posture, his nervous energy, and targeted him instead, leaving you the task of not only fighting whoever this was, but protecting your nephew. You used the Force to push Soren back, just out of the range of the glowing red saber, a swipe that would have taken his life.

The edge of the blade sliced your upper arm. You tried to flex your wings, to use them as landing gear as you had so many times, but the cold had rendered them nearly useless, hanging down prone, getting number by the second. But the numbness was giving way to prickling pain. You weren’t sure which was worse.

You yelled out, grasping at the smoking wound, the saber’s heat cauterizing the blood.

“(Y/N)!” Rey yelled out.

You stood, bracing yourself on a snowbank, fire in your eyes despite the raging blizzard.

The man went for Soren again, but this time you put yourself between the two, your saber sparking against the aggressive red of his.

“Lord Mothim, we’re taking heavy losses!” One of the Stormtroopers relayed, giving him pause, but not halting his attack.

Lord Mothim. The one Kylo had mentioned on the one occasion you’d met him.

“We will fight until they are dead. No surrender.” He said, countering a move, twirling the saber with grace.

He lunged at your nephew, but you reached forward, using the Force to pull back his cape, throwing him off balance and revealing what you already knew. This Mothim was Maddox. You would recognize your brother’s wings anywhere. Orange with a tinge of red at the ends. Fitting colors for a Sith.

You threw your saber, calling it back to you, straight through the exposed wings, slicing them off and watching as they fluttered to the ground. The cruelest thing you could do to a Mariposan. The thing that the very saber in his hand had done to your own, you realized, finally putting the pieces together. The saber was made of Insidia’s blades, merged together.

He let out a cry, collapsing to his knees, the shockwave of Force energy knocking everyone, including yourself, back in a wave. You soared through the air, unable to control your momentum.

The back of your head hit against a snow-covered pine and everything went blurry.

You watched, nearly out of body, as the First Order retreated, a pair of Stormtroopers grabbing Mothim and leaving. Soren ran over to where you were laying, fear flashing over his features.

“Aunt (Y/N)? Are you okay?”

“Mmhmm.” You gave a thumbs-up, pushing yourself upright. The last First Order transport pulled out of orbit. The X-Wings shot, but it was already gone.

Rey ran over, giving you her arm and pulling you to your feet. “Who was that?”

“My brother.” You exhaled, breaths ragged. “Maddox. Lando was right.”

You stared at the pieces of his wings you’d severed off, being steadily buried by the snow. Your stomach sank with the weight of what you’d done. Exploited his greatest weakness, hurt him in the way that had ended your life all those years ago. Yet, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to feel bad about it.

The X-Wings swooped in for a landing and Poe sprinted across the field, nearly tripping over his own feet on his way to get to you. His gloved hand reached out, stopping short of the blackened, burned slash through your jacket, across your arm.

“You okay? We alright? What’s the move?” He asked, counting heads while reaching out for your hand.

You gave it to him, squeezing his.

“We need to get back before the weather gets worse.” You said, laser-focused on getting off the planet. “Get everyone back in the transports and get the hell out of here.”

Finn nodded, turning to start corralling people back into the transports. You started walking towards one with the others, but Poe didn’t let go of your hand, eyes meeting yours, his energy…fraught.

“I’m going with Poe.” You told Rey, not even stopping to think about the logistics of it, how it would look to the others. You didn’t care. That look on his face…whatever was going on in his head, he needed you.

She nodded, not fighting you on the matter. Poe climbed up into his X-Wing, helping you in behind him. It was a smaller cockpit than the newer models, but the controls looked nearly the same. To you, anyway, from what you could remember about your one other time inside one.

He pulled a lever and the hatch closed, sealing with a hiss and a click.

“Bee, blast the heat.” He instructed, pulling the goggles off of your head, smoothing your hair back, his touch quick and clinical. He stared at the scorched mark on your jacket. “Can you…?”

“Yeah.” You unzipped it, tugging it down your shoulders, exposing the wound. You hissed as the fabric rubbed against it, still red and agitated and hot hot hot.

“Hey, hey, you okay?” He asked, tucking your jacket into a small cargo cabinet near his feet.

“Think so.” You nodded, shedding another layer, and then rolling up the sleeve, exposing the burn. “Yeah, he definitely got me.”

“Here.” Poe pulled a bacta patch out of a small first aid kit, carefully laying it over the wound.

A cooling sensation spread from the spot, the relief instant. You leaned back against him, head resting on his shoulder as you let out a long breath. “Thanks.”

“Mmhmm.” He hummed, flipping a few switches. His arms wrapped around your waist and he pressed his face into your neck, letting out a long, warm breath against your skin. “You had me so worried, baby.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“I know.” He nodded, curls tickling you with the movement. He pressed a long kiss there, then another, arms tightening as he inhaled your scent like it was oxygen. Eventually, he lifted his head, nose rubbing against yours as your face turned towards him.

You kissed him, lips soft, tender. You could tell his mind was elsewhere.

“Your wings…are they okay? You were out there for so long…”

“They’re okay.” You raised one to demonstrate. Its movements were still a little stilted, but they would be okay. You held his face in your hand, firm, forcing him to look at you. “I’m okay, Poe. Promise. I’m not made of glass. We have to get off this planet before we get stuck here, alright? The snow’s gonna get worse.”

“Okay.” He nodded, closing his eyes and inhaling a long breath. “Okay, yeah, alright.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips and then pulled his helmet on, putting a wall between the two of you. “Yep, just adjusting the co-pilot in here. Wheels up, fellas. Let’s get outta here.”

The X-Wings lifted off, escorting the transports out of the atmosphere and into hyperdrive.

BB-8 took the wheel for the most part. Poe was quiet, an arm around your waist, the other on the control rod. Your back was completely flush against his chest, wings tucked under, still prickling as the feeling came back, little by little.

And it was so…quiet. He was so quiet.

“You alright, Commander?”

“Gettin’ there.” He replied, arm tightening around you. He pressed an awkward kiss to your neck, as best as he could under the helmet.

You laughed softly at the awkward position.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized suddenly, voice sounding heavy.

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?” You asked, turning to look at him, attempting to meet his eyes through the glass of his helmet visor.

He pressed a button on the dash, muting himself so the other pilots couldn’t hear. “I just…sometimes it’s so easy to forget that you’re…I mean…you’ve done this before. You’ve been through so much. But I see you out there in the field, face to face with a kriffing Sith, and it all just melts away. (Y/N)...I know you can handle yourself, but I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

The words sat there in the open for a few moments that felt like minutes. You let out a breath, turning to look at him for a long moment, his eyes locked out the windshield.

“You’re a Jedi. You’re…you’re a legend, Princess. I know that, but…”

“Everyone treats me like I’m invincible.” You confessed. “Everyone. Even after my accident. It’s…nice to have someone worry about me. I just don’t want to be a liability to you. I need you to be safe too, Poe.”

He nodded, determination brewing behind those warm eyes of his. “We’ll just have to look out for each other, then.”

“Til the end of this war, and every day after.” You promised, turning your head at an odd angle to kiss the stubble on his cheek.

He chuckled a little. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you up here sooner, baby.”

“Hey, at least we finally got our joyride.” You chuckled. “Our date.”

Poe pressed another kiss to your neck, the plasteel of his helmet brushing against the side of your face, drawing another laugh out of you. “I’ll pick a more romantic spot for the next one.”

The Illusion of Safety

After the Hoth debrief, the cantina was packed. Everyone wanted to hear about it. About the new Sith lord and how you’d sliced his wings clean off, the sheer cold of the planet. The rookies talked about nearly freezing their toes off.

You nursed a cup of Jet Juice, feeling tired, but relieved it was over. Relieved everyone was home safe with new X-Wings, new building materials, blasters, boots and uniforms. In the meantime, there had been some food deliveries as well, and Laesynda told you your garden was beginning to sprout.

Things were looking up, in other words.

The crew was caught in another game of Never Have I Ever, with updated experiences and ideas to throw at each other. Snap met your eyes, Poe seated beside you, his hand on your thigh under the table, impossibly warm, even through the fabric of your trousers.

“Never have I ever kissed a pilot.” Rose said.

You cursed under your breath, along with a handful of other people. Snap and Karé namely. You took a sip of Jet Juice, watching the wicked gleam in Poe’s eyes, the smirk that pulled at his lips.

Snap was next. He knew as well as you did that Luke Skywalker was known for his flying abilities, among many other things, of course. But just to be extra sure, he locked eyes with Poe, raising an eyebrow as he said, “Never have I ever kissed a Jedi.”

You took your sip, for Luke.

Poe’s tongue curled briefly over his lip, meeting your eyes for a moment, asking permission.

You flicked your eyes from his down to his cup and back. “What are you waiting for, Dameron? Take your sip.”

“I mean, it’s more like a hundred sips at this point, but…” Poe grinned into his cup.

Rey’s mouth fell open, everyone watching with bated breath as he chugged the rest of it. The table erupted in cheers.

“I knew it!” Finn exclaimed, pointing. “I knew it!”

Poe shook his head, all smiles. “No you did not!”

“How long?” Snap asked. “I’ve got a couple bets I need to cash in on.”

“The gala.” Poe admitted, the arm that had been resting on your thigh coming up around your waist instead.

“Really? Only since then?” Snap asked. “Maker, I thought it was longer than that, even. Saw you in the hangar one afternoon, kissing her hand.”

“Oh, that was step one of my grand plan.” Poe grinned, flyboy confidence plastered on his handsome face. “We then completely rerouted from said plan, but it worked out.”

You laughed, leaning against his shoulder. “He’s good at improvising.”

Finn deadpanned. “The morning after the gala. When you…?”

“Did the walk of shame? Yeah, sure did.” Poe admitted, earning laughs from the rest of the group. He leaned closer, breath sharp with the smell of alcohol, laced with whatever juice had been laying around the kitchens when the mechs whipped it all together. His nose brushed against your skin, lips aimed for your cheek, but you turned your head, kissing him full on the lips, heart racing at the way his mouth curled into a smile, proud.

The group cheered, offering their congratulations, saying how happy they were for you. You were happy, too. It was serious. Had been since your conversation on Hoth, but long before that, too. Poe was holding your heart in both of his warm, calloused hands. He knew that. And now they all did, too.

Tomorrow, you two would be the talk of the Resistance, the gossip of the day. But tonight, you were surrounded by your friends, laughter and warmth. Your family.

Poe pinched your side, arms curling around your waist. He pressed a long kiss to your cheek and then remembered the game. “Right, my turn. Uhhh, never have I ever been in a pod race.”

***

That night, you dreamt of a void. Empty and dark. Endless. A red saber ignited and then he was standing there. Mothim. Your brother.

He took off the mask, a wrinkled face beneath, eyes golden and gleaming in the shadows. A pair of jagged wings trailed behind him, their edges singed, glowing like embers. “You thought you could hide from me, you insolent girl.”

“Wasn’t hiding, actually. I was sleeping. Sorry if that’s confusing.” You retorted, voice echoing into the distance. “Maybe you’re losing it in your old age, Mads.”

“QUIET!!!” His voice echoed, pounding in your ears. You recoiled. “I’m in your head now, you insolent girl. You cannot escape me. You and that pilot of yours are done for. It’s only a matter of time before I find you and snuff out your precious little Resistance, like I should have so long ago.”

“You can’t. The fire’s been lit. You’re on borrowed time.”

He laughed, the sound spine-chilling.

He was suddenly right in front of you, long, clawed fingers grasping your chin and squeezing. Hard. You tried to run away, but you were frozen. You couldn’t move.

“It’s ironic, really. That you would say that.” He hissed, words sharp as blades. “You gave your life to kill Insidia, to stop her, but your sacrifice was in vain. You’ll see that soon.”

He lit the other end of the saber, its light piercing right through your chest, the pain real and burning.

You jolted awake, eyes shooting open. Your heart raced as you stared at the empty room, curtains blowing slightly in the breeze. You could hear the leaves rustling gently outside. You took some deep breaths.

Poe’s arm was curled tight around your waist, knees tucked up into yours, his nose pressed to the back of your neck. He felt you wake, humming softly and kissing behind your ear. “You alright?”

“Nightmare.” You said, voice shaking. 

You couldn’t get Maddox’s words out of your ears. He had threatened Poe. Maybe he knew somehow. Maybe he really was in your head. He had to be mad after you’d sliced his wings off. Seething. It was the worst pain a Mariposan could experience. Thousands of nerve endings severed all at once, white-hot. You knew that firsthand.

Maybe you should have saved a blow like that for a better moment.

“Mmm.” His voice rumbled against you, the vibrations comforting. His lips pressed against your neck, soft and gentle in the dark. “Mothim?”

“He…He said some stuff. About Insidia…” You confessed, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I…It’s…He threatened you.”

“We can tell Leia in the morning, starlight.” He said, brushing your hair back out of your face. “It’s alright.”

You nodded, but Poe could tell you weren’t convinced. He turned you over, pressing his nose to yours, eyes searching your tearstained face.

“Come here.” He pulled you into his arms, a hand skimming over your wing, the other cradling your head. “We’re fine, baby. We both are, alright? He’s not gonna touch me and if he sets foot near you again, I’ll kill him myself. All I need is a clean shot.”

You smiled softly, heart warming at the fire in his chest, in his eyes. Your Poe was a fighter. You didn’t know how likely that scenario was, but you knew he meant every word. He’d do anything to protect you, fight anyone, no matter the odds.

“You mean that, don’t you?”

“‘Course I do. I’d fight the fucking stars for you.” He pressed his lips to yours, soft and slow. “Let’s go back to sleep, alright? We both need it.”

You nodded, curling into him, leg hooking over his. You tucked your face into his shoulder, inhaling his scent, that warm mix of sandalwood and leather and his rain-scented soap. You felt so safe in his arms, like nothing and no one could touch you. You knew that wasn’t true, but it felt like it was. Like as long as the two of you were together, you’d be fine, that he could stop anyone from the cockpit of that X-Wing, neutralize any threat with only his blaster, before you could even so much as power up your saber.

You held onto that thought as you drifted off again, the illusion of safety. You and Poe, riding in his X-Wing off into the sunset, BB-8 buckled into the back seat.

The Weight of the Galaxy

You found Leia after breakfast, walked straight into her office and sat with her, told her about your nightmare.

“It might have…just been a dream.” You concluded, after giving her the details. What Maddox had said. His threat that Insidia’s plan had succeeded. That your sacrifice meant nothing.

“Did it feel like just a dream?”

“No.” You admitted, arms wrapped around yourself. “It felt…real. Or, like there was some truth to it, at the very least. I’ve dreamt about Insidia loads of times, but…never Maddox.”

Leia nodded and you could feel her, reaching with the Force. She had that look in her eye, like she was a million planets away, but right next to you. The frown that tugged at her lips gave you all the answer you needed. You’d been right. Something big was coming. Something bad.

“We need to…up the Jedi training regimen. A lot. I need all three of you ready.”

“Four.” You said. “But we’ll need a saber for Finn. I think he’s ready for it.”

“I can get one.” Leia nodded. “It’ll take some time.”

“I’ll get them as ready as I can in the meantime.” You promised.

You walked out of her office and out into the camp, feeling sick. Something in you fluttered, and not in a good way. Rey walked up to you, touching your arm, shaking you from the funk. Soren was with her, both of them waiting for the news.

“What did she say?”

“We’re on for training. As much as possible.” You said, letting out a shaking breath. “Leia’s intuition has always been…better than mine. If she thinks there was some truth to…what I saw…”

“Then we’ll just have to get ready for it. Whatever it is.”

Your stomach sank, thinking about it. “More like who.”

***

So you trained. All three of you and Finn. Soren and Rey sparred together nonstop, running agility courses, using a training remote, learning to deflect blasts faster. Faster. Faster yet.

You worked with Finn, handing him your saber, a trusting look in your eye.

“Oh, I couldn’t.” He shook his head.

“It’s just a loan, Finn. We’re still figuring out where to find you one. In the meantime, I need you to get comfortable with the weight of it, the movement. They’re a little different than the training rods you’ve been working with.”

He nodded, testing the weight of it in his hand. You set him on the training course, flitting from tree to tree, watching his progress from a safe distance, trying to stay out of his line of sight as much as possible. You spotted Poe, down at base, eyes tracking you while he stood with Leia and Chewbacca, flicking back down to the conversation every few moments. You ran through the branches, wings carrying you.

The blade of the saber caught on a thin tree and you used the Force to lower it to the ground, gently, out of Finn’s way. He was…hesitant, like Soren had been, but he had the raw talent. He moved like Luke, you reminisced, every move thought through, intentional.

You landed at the end of the course as he powered down the saber. He waited for your evaluation, shoulders stiff. It was moments like this when you were reminded of his upbringing. Didn’t come out often anymore, but when faced with people he saw as authority, it did tend to peek out from those kind eyes. The fear of correction. Of the punishment that followed.

You put a hand on his arm, dispelling the tension that bloomed in his chest. “That was great, Finn. You’re doing great.”

“I missed a few.”

“You’re using a borrowed saber. They’re not always easy to use when they’re not bonded to you. We’ll get you one of your own soon. Besides. I lied. That wasn’t the novice course, it was apprentice level. The work you’ve been doing, even with a stick, it all counts. You’re one of us, Finn.” You told him, hand curling around your saber as he handed it back to you. “I’m not your Jedi Master, I’m your friend. I’m here to offer advice and guidance. What you do with it is up to you. We’re all in this together.”

He smiled at that, nodding. “I like that.”

“I thought you would.”

“How’d it go?” Rey asked, walking over with Soren.

Finn let out a breath, tension rolling out of his shoulders, replaced instead with confidence, with strength from the Force. “We’re getting there.”

***

A week passed. Then two. Nonstop training. Meditating in the morning, breakfast, a trip through the training course, lunch, more meditation and some lightsaber sparring, dinner. After, you’d hit the books, curling up with Luke’s notes, with your own, studying every word like there was something you were missing. There had to be something you were missing.

Poe watched, your spark kindling a fire in his chest, but an ache in his heart. He’d never seen you so stressed. So driven. Like you were carrying the weight of the galaxy with those wings of yours. In some ways, you were.

“Baby…” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your neck, hands following the curve of your waist.

You were hunched over a book, sitting in the lounge. You curled into his touch, his warmth, crooning. “Mmm?”

“It’s late. Come to bed.”

“I’m fine.” You insisted. “I got thirty years of sleep, remember? I think it evens out if I cash in on some of that now.”

He exhaled, shaking his head. “You sound like me.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?” You chuckled, flipping the page.

“Alright, well, you give me no choice.” He said, closing the book with a firm hand, your eyes widening up at him. “Come on. Sleep time.”

“Poe.”

“I will carry you.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You asked, a bit of a bite to your words.

“Both. Come on.” He pulled you by your hands, up from the table, and hoisted you right over his shoulder.

“Hey! I feel like there are more graceful ways to be handling a princess, you know.” You protested, kicking your legs.

“Yeah, but none of them give me the chance to do this.” He gave your ass a not-so-gentle pat.

You gasped, thanking the Maker that the hallway was completely empty, otherwise, the whole crew would be talking about you and him for new reasons, since the initial buzz of your relationship coming to light had finally dwindled. “Poe Dameron!”

“Scold me later, Princess, you know you need it.” He said, setting you upright in front of the door to your quarters. He rested his hands on his hips, looking you over.

His tired, overworked little Jedi Princess. Your wings were drooping more than usual. You kept them folded away typically, for practical reasons, but they looked more like fabric than tissue at this point. He frowned.

“Why the long face, flyboy?”

“I just don’t like seeing you like this.” He admitted, reaching out for your hand. He fiddled with your fingers. “You need sleep. You need to be drinking more water. Mariposans need it to perk up their wings. Look at ‘em, starlight, I’ve never seen them so droopy.”

“Yeah, I’ve been…distracted, I guess.” You relented, nodding. “I’ll drink some before bed.”

“Oh I know you will. I’m staying.” He said, pushing past you into the room. He pulled you inside, closing the door with a press of the panel. He plucked your drinking glass from your desk, rinsing it out in your bathroom sink before bringing it back with clean water and pressing it into your hand. “Drink.”

“Yes, Commander.” You replied, tipping it back and taking several long sips. He was right. You’d needed it.

He took your face in his hand, fingers gentle, but firm. He wiped a droplet of water from the corner of your lip with his thumb. “Good girl.”

You’d be lying if you said that didn’t do something to you. And you would have done something to him, if it wasn’t so late, if the initial point of his little wellness check hadn’t been sleep, or, more accurately, your lack thereof.

You brushed your teeth, put some lotion on your wings, aided by his careful touch, and then you both climbed into bed. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat, steady and strong. He played with your hair, pressing kisses to your forehead.

“Thank you.” You finally said, voice quiet.

His lips curled into a smile against your hairline. “What kind of a boyfriend would I be if I didn’t gently bully you into taking care of yourself?”

You chuckled. “Probably not a very good one.”

“Mmhmm.” He hummed. “Now, do me a favor and close those pretty eyes of yours. I’m thinking at least seven hours. Maybe eight if we’re lucky.”

You leaned up and pressed your lips to his, movements slow, loving. “Won’t Leia…”

“She and I both know we need you at your best. All of us, really, but…especially you.” Poe kissed you, gazing at you through those thick dark, thick eyelashes. He pulled you back down, kissing your temple, a hand grazing your wing, which was starting to flex to its former shape again.

You let out a long breath, his touches lulling you with expert precision. You mumbled into the crook of his neck, eyelids growing heavy at his warmth. “This is not fair.”

“There it is. Sleep, baby. I’ll see you in the morning.” Poe reassured, voice soft.

He listened as your breaths slowed, felt as you slipped off to sleep, the tension leaving your face, your body, your wings.

And then, once he was absolutely sure you were asleep, he pressed a final kiss to your forehead and whispered, “I love you.”

***

Sometimes, when Poe woke up before you, if whatever position the two of you awoke in allowed, he’d slip his mother’s ring onto your finger, just to see. Even with it still on the chain, it did something to him, the way it looked on your hand, that braided leather bracelet on your wrist, the one that meant that you were his.

It looked right. Felt right.

He felt you stir, so he pulled it off, gently, kissing each of your eyelids as you blinked awake. Refreshed and well-rested for the first time in weeks.

Poe wasn’t Force Sensitive, but he could tell there was something big coming. You all could. It made him cherish these little moments between you even more.

Leia got word from a scout named Boolio. There was some info he had on a hard drive, a potential spy in the First Order. Someone would have to rendezvous, download the files in person. Poe put himself forward. Finn, too. Chewbacca.

Poe tried to get at least one of the other Jedi to come along, but the three of you were staying behind to train.

“More training. Figures. I should have known you’d say that.” Poe said, deflated.

Your resolve softened. “Poe.”

“No, it’s fine, I get it, it’s just…”

You took a step closer, taking his hand, the other smoothing out the fabric of his button-up shirt, the one he claimed made him look like a sexy space pirate. He wasn’t wrong about that. “If you need me, I’m there.”

He thought about it, meeting your eyes. He knew you meant it. You always did. He shook his head, relenting, and pressed a long kiss to the back of your hand, stubble tickling against your skin. “They need you here. Finn and I will be alright. I just feel…better with you on board. Call me superstitious, or…”

“Sentimental?” You smiled softly, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. “May the Force be with you, Commander.”

He touched the Mariposan healer’s pendant, still hanging around his neck from its leather cord, right beside his mother’s ring. “It always is.”

You watched the Falcon take off, unrest taking root in your heart. You didn’t know exactly why, but you knew this was the mission that would change everything. That once the boys got back, everything would be different.

You let out a long breath, watching the ship until it shrank away into the sky, zapped away at lightspeed. There was no going back now.

Tags: @cap-lu20

[kranagok0]

Oh boy, this Is a complete love square....

Guys, I don't know what I have about polyamorous romances but it's like a strange feeling of 'look at that, no one is sad and everyone loves each other.'

That just crossed my mind when I saw the new member of the trio of strange friends (now it's a quartet).

Louise is a breath of fresh air among the extroverts that make up the group.

Louise is practically an introvert. Someone closed who was even the last to be chosen on the boat trip (if we leave aside the trio of protagonists). Louise mentions that she has been in the Sparrow Scouts for some time now but has made almost no friends (or so I think).

I understand what it's like to be an introvert, more or less. I am the type of person who acts with a lot of concern, nervousness and gets serious so as not to say something stupid the first time they meet him... However, when I gain the necessary confidence I transform into someone different. I go from being 'a mouse thinking carefully about its next move' to becoming 'a monkey with a shotgun'. I hope I'm not the only one to have that strange way of being....

My life aside, I'd say Louise is kind of like that too. At first she tries to fit in by being normal with the team, but then she begins to get to know them and identify what things the trio of friends think are right or wrong and that is when Louise begins to show more of her personality. It emerges from the cocoon like a butterfly to show its true colors.

And in short: it is perfect for the trio of friends. It's so weird and different that I feel like it's necessary for the group, and I'm speaking in a positive way when I say weird. A good time.Now the main topic..... Romance.

I've seen a lot of Frida X David, Hilda X Frida, David X Frida fanfics and blogs, there's literally everything. But with the arrival of Louise the combinations are doubled. Now it could be Louise X David, Louise X Hilda, Louise

*Music from a 80's TV game show plays*

Hello ladies, gentlemen and other magical creatures who visualize us! I want to welcome you to this little head-canon idea I had of what each character in the trio of friends would be like if they were Louise's partner!

To do this, we will see the qualities of each suitor and what their dynamic with the character would be like:

Let's start with the one who represents better than anyone the shyness and courage that exists within us, he died twice to try to demonstrate it. Here we have David.

David may be a scary guy, but he will definitely come to save you if you are in danger. This kid would literally show what he's made of on a battlefield if he feels like he needs to prove something.... Don't tell me no, we've all seen the Vikings episode.

Our next contestant is not only smart in school but also in witchcraft. If you ask him about a certain topic, rest assured that when he finishes his talk you will at least have knowledge of the entire topic and its related subtopics. She is willing to do anything for her friends, she would even open a portal to the unknown and create non-existent spells just for you. Let's give a big, fervent wave of applause to the young city witch: FRIDA!

Frida may have been a bit of a perfectionist in the past, but after meeting Hilda and experiencing several events she went from being miss perfect to becoming the smartest friend you can count on. To be honest, sometimes Frida can be a bit boring, but that doesn't stop her from reaching your heart by showing great gifts of her intellect and the magic she possesses means that any topic can arise from a conversation. So, if by 'boring' we mean a lot of context and extremely long topics that she explains to you with excitement and great happiness, then boring is pretty good.

Finally we have the icing on the cake, or in this case the blueberry. Coming from the wild and with more extroverted energy than any of the other candidates mentioned above, we have a young woman with blue hair as long as she could grow it (I don't doubt that she would have let it grow longer if it didn't bother her in her adventures). This girl can literally make friends with almost anything and her circle of friends is huge, ranging from elf scribes to giants who are no longer on this planet. She would be the one to always take the first step in battle with her sword if I see it necessary and— Wait, where did he get that sword?

With you, Hilda!

Seriously, where do I get it from?

Hilda is by far the most outgoing and curious person I have ever seen. Don't you remember what Tofoten was triggered by his curiosity? Dude, it was literally the end of the series. And if you hadn't already noticed, this girl would fight barehanded against a king to save her loved ones. She would be the first to take up weapons to save her friends, she is capable of moving every rock in the entire city to find her pet, she is even capable of doing an act of terrorism just because the bells were bothering her friends.

Oh my god, I'd be afraid of this girl if I were someone who played some practical joke on David in the past or something. I would be locked up at home for what might happen to me. Better confinement than meeting Hilda on the street and having her recognize me.

So.... In a little while we will see Louise's possible choices about who she would like to be with, why I think they would be a good couple and also about what their relationship would be like. And it wouldn't just be from my point of view. Indeed, dear reader, you can also have your opinion. Comment what you think a relationship between Louise and any of our favorite trio of friends would be like.I retire to write incorrect quotes and more about this romance because I am burning with emotion. See you later

[yumecel]

the slowest death 💙

yandere!dabi/reader | 1.6k

summary: you didn’t even think the PLF would bother tracking you down. one member proves you wrong

character specifics: slightly ooc for fic purposes i suppose

reader specifics: gn reader

world specifics: probably a far longer gap from dabis video to the war arc than is canon? sorry for any inaccuracies of living under the PLF i wasnt paying attention

tws: stalking, mention of murder via burning, dabi being a creep

a/n: christening this blog with the man thats been driving me wild recently. im so rusty! please forgive me

——💙——

i promise i’m 18+, i promise i’m okay with seeing dark content, i know this will haunt me in the world to come should i lie [yes⬇️] [no↩️]

You can’t stop seeing him.

Skulking into street corners, under flickering lamps, your peripheral vision, all permeated with the silhouette of a man you only expect to see on screens. When you close your eyes, he persists as an afterimage. Blue eyes burn into yours.

You’ve been having trouble sleeping.

Sometimes you lock yourself in your bathroom to watch that video of him, Dabi- now confirmed as Touya Todoroki. You drag your laptop with you and you search up information about him, trying to keep track of his current movements to confirm your suspicions. It feels like there’s eyes everywhere. It feels like he’s everywhere.

It’s not like you haven’t seen him up close before. You think that’s why this is probably happening. Months prior, under the direction of the Paranormal Liberation Front, you’d used your quirk on him- you’d cupped his cheek gently and allowed the soothing water to roll over it, clearing away a minor burn that was nothing compared to the rest of his scars. You remember it vividly because he closed his eyes. That’s not the issue, many people do, but you almost couldn’t believe the expression of tranquility that crossed his face. On the screens, in leaked footage, Dabi often presents himself with a chilling calmness or a maniacal grin. The total relaxation of his features and the removal of defences was foreign. And when it happened, you’d observed closely. Every piercing, every staple, every mark. You just happen to like observing the effects of your quirk on other people, and Dabi was no exception. When it was over, he’d murmured something barely discernible as a “thanks” and walked off. You thought his back would be the last you’d see of him in person, save for a few brief appearances with other PLF members. But he kept coming back to you, minor burn after minor burn, cut, scrape, bruise. He hardly ever talked, but he was so bold. He laid his head in your lap and there was an unspoken understanding that taking advantage of this vulnerability would result in dire consequences for you. Dabi always ensured his absolute privacy before settling down, and you believe you became something of a refuge for him. But you didn’t think there was anything special about you save for convenience, and you certainly had more “regulars” than just him. Dabi didn’t appear to be particularly attached to you as a person so much as your quirk.

Your clientele eventually died, perhaps literally, perhaps they just stopped coming after finding another healer, leaving only Dabi asking for your services. To make money and a future, you had to move, and you did so quickly and without fanfare. You were planning to leave that chapter of your life behind entirely.

But Dabi keeps haunting you.

You think you’re wrong. You should be wrong. You don’t know if you’re wrong.

It’s true that you’re technically on the run from the PLF, but you didn’t believe they would be particularly keen to expend effort on tracking you down. You are after all, only a healer, and have no specific abilities to boost other quirks. Quirks that soothe others can be found everywhere and you doubt they’d struggle tracking down more like them, and there’s already an abundance of regular doctors at their fingertips. Your ability to both soothe and heal is something that can be replaced easily enough.

Put simply, the costs of capturing you far outweigh the costs of letting you run free. The PLF knows they manage secrecy fairly well. They have nothing to worry about.

So when Dabi started lurking around the edges of your vision, you thought-

“They’re going to make an example of me.”

That could be the only reason. Being killed by Dabi is complete overkill. Your quirk may involve water but you don’t stand a chance against quelling his flames. There would be no epic fight, and you’re fully aware that engaging with him would lead to your death within five minutes. That’s if he grants you the mercy of a quick death. There’s nothing holding him back from prolonging your suffering for hours, even days. You shudder every time you think about it, a million ways he could kill you flashing before your eyes.

He doesn’t kill you quite yet. He’s toying with you.

The inside of your shabby apartment starts looking substantially shabbier. He must be letting himself in regularly. Somehow, somehow he has obtained a key, and now he’s snooping around. You accept that death awaits… for the first week, at least. Perhaps he’ll find you have nothing of interest to the PLF and leave. All you do is keep living as normal, praying some great distraction for him will arise and this will pass. Every day, you show up to work- a small, urban spa where you’re free to offer your services of pain relief under the guise of massage, never disclosing openly that you’re using your quirk. It’s custom to do so if you don’t want to draw attention to yourself, but clients generally know through word-of-mouth that quirks are used. The additional layer of protection was meant to shield you from the PLF, but it all seems useless now.

You can hear your phone buzz as you massage a client’s back. You try to pretend it never happened, and she seems undisturbed. You wonder what it could be, since after clearing your phone very few people have your new contact details. You manage to check it once the client shuffles out the door, thanking you airily.

It’s an email. The subject matter reads, “Hi Sweetheart!”

Spam.

But you still open it.

——————

Subject: Hi Sweetheart!

I really couldn’t resist digging around your laptop today. Imagine how flattered I felt when I saw all your previous searches had to do with me. Curious, are we? I can just imagine your scared little face as you scroll through videos of me, wondering when you’ll see me again. I guess what I found cute is that you have my confession video bookmarked. Did you save it for… personal reasons? You had plenty of time to look at me without a shirt on when you were working. I guess you can’t get enough of me.

But I can’t act like I wouldn’t do the same if you were someone I could just look up online- but I’m a good researcher without the internet. I tracked you down without a lot of effort. And I’ve been learning so much about you recently. So much that I’ve reached a dead end. There are things I need to know about you that wouldn’t be found on your laptop or in your apartment…

Maybe I’ll see you when you get home.

You know who I am.

——————

Feeling sick to your stomach, you scroll up, thumb trembling.

It’s sent from your own email address.

——💙——

You don’t have anywhere to go but your apartment, yet returning to it feels like such a stupid move. The police, let alone pro heroes, hardly go to that part of town. You stay an hour longer at the spa. You hope this will throw off Dabi, allowing you to dive in, grab your stuff, and equip yourself to leave forever. The passiveness that came with being a sitting duck has left your body. Confronted with death, you know it’s time to fight for survival.

Your phone buzzes again.

Another email.

——————

Subject: I won’t hurt you

You think I don’t know where you work? I can just as easily come to you and torch the place. I’m willing to play nice, so don’t insist on being difficult.

——————

A coworker remarks that you look sickly and insists you go home. You nod slowly, not saying much as you start to get ready to leave. When you stumble out of the door, the bell above you sounds like it’s ringing several rooms away. Nothing feels real.

Buzz.

——————

Subject: You can email me too

You know that right?

Still holing yourself up in that spa? Need me to walk you home? Coming home?

——————

You send one to yourself.

——————

Subject: Im on my way

[No body text]

——————

Buzz.

——————

Subject: Good.

[No body text]

——————

——💙——

You don’t bother putting your keys in the door. It opens regardless. With a dry mouth, you swallow, looking around and taking tentative steps further into your apartment.

He deliberately approaches from behind, which you were expecting, but you still yelp out when his warm presence meets your back, arms wrapping around you.

“No ‘Honey, I’m home’?” He snickers. You don’t struggle. You freeze, breath caught in your throat. When he holds you a little tighter, it’s like he pushes you over the edge.

“I’m sorry,” You begin. “I can come back. Are you going to kill me? Please don’t kill me. I can tell you anything you need. I don’t know what I can offer you, if, if you want to stay here, I can-“

He squeezes tighter, making a gentle shushing sound. Your body starts to feel like dead weight. You look down, eyeing the scars on his hands and counting staples in an attempt to ground yourself back in reality.

“It’s not about leaving the PLF, doll. Y’understand?”

You nod frantically, shoulders raising, even if you don’t fully understand. He loosens his hold on you on a little, before coming so close to your ear that you can feel his hot breath.

“It’s about leaving me.”

“Leaving you?” You say, voice barely managing to come out.

“You think I wouldn’t miss my favourite healer?” He croons.

“I…” You begin. “… everyone left. I couldn’t make money and I didn’t have prospects.”

“You’re welcome,” He says, inhaling slightly. “I took care of everyone else.”

“That’s…”

Ominous.

“But you just had to leave, right? Before I snapped you up for myself permanently? Before I got to know you better?”

“I’m- I’m not-“

“Shh, doll. I don’t want those hands on anyone but me from now on. Start packing your necessities and get ready to come home.”

He releases you, causing you to fall to your knees with a dull thud. You were at the mercy of the man behind you.

This, you realised, was the slowest death you could die.

[millenniumfae]

Alastor's Whitewashing And Appropriation (Hazbin Hotel Discourse)

Now that Hazbin Hotel is entering mainstream consciousness, it's a good opportunity to bring attention towards some issues that need addressing.

Indie queer productions have an unfortunate trend of propagating racism, sexism, transphobia, ableism, etc. That's nothing new, and we all have to come to terms with it. A good way to do that? Just get the conversation going. Put the word out there that, 'hey, I have sincere complaints about ___.'

Alastor is, without a doubt, one of the most popular characters of the main cast. We can celebrate the victory of Alastor being a beloved canonical aroace character, while also criticizing his flaws.

Mainly - his race, his cultural appropriation, and his strong link towards racialized violence.

(1) Alastor is canonically mixed race Creole. His skin is medium-toned, but fanartists are sometimes drawing him as light-toned.

Although we don't know his full ethnic makeup, Alastor is canonically portrayed with a darker skintone than some fanartists choose to depict him as, whether in his current demon form, or a fanon-popularized mortal form.

'Creole' isn't a race, it's an ethnicity, and Creole people can have any array of complexions. But that doesn't excuse the trend of literally bleaching his canonical skin hue.

As many people have pointed out, it'd make a lot of sense if Alastor was specifically mixed black, thanks to his association with voodoo, and also according to Depression-era racial census of New Orleans. We know that mixed race black people can look like Pete Wentz, Vin Diesel, and Wentworth Miller. Him being relatively pale, with a pointy nose and straight hair, it wouldn't contradict a black identity.

In the show proper, there's been a wild array of lighting effects, and they also put a shallow gradient burn over the bottom half of the screen at most times, which can complicate accurate skintone shade picking. But you can clearly see that Alastor is darker than many other characters, and is more similar to characters voiced by people of color - Niffty, Vaggie, Carmilla. In fact, his skincolor value is on par with Vaggie's, just with more saturation, giving it the illusion that it's brighter.

(2) Haitian Voudo/Louisiana Voodoo is a closed and heavily marginalized practice. Cannibalism and violence have been long-standing smear campaigns made against it.

A 'closed practice' means that you need to be initiated into it, not just choose to practice it. New Orleans Voodoo has been couched in political prosecution since its inception, and continues to be marginalized. According to the historian Carolyn Morrow Long, "Voodoo, as an organized religion, had been thoroughly suppressed by the legal system, public opinion, and Christianity." Because of its association with free black people (and the country of Haiti), you can imagine the hate crimes it's faced for decades.

Some of its most infamous fearmongering included reports of human sacrifices, cannibalism, and animalistic orgies. "{...} the Westerns’ view on Vodou was proof that the “black republic ‘’ cannot claim to be civilized."

So of course, a mixed-race cannibalistic serial killer using 'evil' magic couched in floating vevè symbols can leave a bad taste in the mouth. Just because the symbols are accurate ones doesn't mean the misappropriation isn't there.

It has never been blatantly stated that Alastor is a Voodoo practitioner, or has any real history in Louisiana Voodoo, aside from in the pilot where Charlie briefly says the word 'voodoo' in reference to Alastor's magic. But the inclusion of actual vevè symbols is a solid enough connection. And it's an unfortunate one.

Compare with Disney's Princess And The Frog, where the directors made an effort to include Mama Odie as a more accurate depiction of a manbo, while the antagonist Dr. Facilier is hinted as not being able to practice real voodoo at all. There are more delicate and considerate ways to approach Alastor's association with Hollywood 'voodoo', and hopefully, we will get to see them as the show goes on.

(3) Wendigos are specifically from Algonquin folklore. Many pop culture interpretations of Wendigos are inappropriately abstracted from its cultural context.

Canonically, Alastor's demon form resembles a deer because he was mistaken for a deer by a hunter, and shot square in the forehead. We've seen him let out elk bugle sounds, and also his antlers growing in conjunction with his power. When he puts his game face on, his entire body gets spindly, his teeth grow sharper and longer, his hands turn into huge claws, and he sometimes eats his victims alive.

This, of course, is making some viewers ring comparisons to 'wendios', thanks to Alastor's large appetite and preference for human flesh.

Similar to his 'voodoo' connection, the show has never gone on record to say Alastor is supposed to be a Wendigo, or that his history and appearance was meant to invoke a Wendigo. The connection here is a bit weaker than his Hollywood voodoo, and it's mostly an audience reaction that I find questionable.

For those who don't know, a Wendigo is specifically from Algonquian folklore. a malevolent spirit who eats people and is never sated. English-speaking audiences owe their awareness of Wendigos to Stephen King, The X-Files, Supernatural, Until Dawn, and more. Very few of these depictions were respectful towards indigenous culture. Most of the time, 'wendigos' have been almost entirely divorced from its indigenous American contexts.

It's a classic example of appropriation. They take some cultural facet from a marginalized people, do minimal research, and depict it with little owe towards its creators. That's insulting no matter who you are. It's a form of violence when the culture is a persecuted one.

A character can be a skinny deer demon that eats people without trying to cash in on the whole 'wendigo' thing. This might be what Alastor is supposed to be, but the audience is using the word 'wendigo' inappropriately.

So. In one single character, we've got the whitewashing, the Voodoo and Wendigo appropriation, the anti-Blackness, and an overall racism.

It's no surprise that Alastor remains one of the most divisive characters of the show.

This would be like, if Niffty (voiced by Japanese-American Kimiko Glenn) kept being drawn as a pale woman with bulbous blue eyes, had weird radioactive atomic powers thanks to her method of death back in the '40's, and was obsessed with spearing people through their stomach with long blades. It's not super great.

So far, Hazbin Hotel's canon material has avoided many of the overtly bigoted humor and hijinks so common in adult TV, and that's something of a victory. But what's not problematic doesn't cancel out what is.

The more a reasonable criticism is circulated amongst its audience, the more driven the creative team is to pay attention.