#cause war crimes and weapons are more important than clean air and water and land right?

[quaranmine]

😐

[elmidol]

Astra Inclinant (NSFW)

Three Blind Tooke Part Three Death is an Art Read on Ao3

Three Blind Tooke 

 Part Three: Death is an Art

 Chapter Sixty-Seven: Astra Inclinant

 I knew the many forms of peace,

I knew at long last how to be me.

 Between life and death, you were in the embrace of stars while Kylo held your hand in his. You scanned each planet that slowly emerged from the surrounding shadows. It was not too late to choose the peace offered by death; though Kylo would temporarily ache from your loss, he would not suffer endlessly. Even still, that pain was nothing you wished for him to endure. On top of that there was a fear that you knew even in the numbness of death--the numbness that wavered, threatening to give way to aches proving you were reconnecting with your physical body. 

 This fear was simple; that someone would take your story, manipulate it to fit their narrative, and discard you. For them to deny that they did so, that you were nothing more than some stepping stone for them to receive fleeting fame. Returning to life was not a foolproof method of preventing this. On the contrary, such individuals could later treat you as a charity case and thus curry favor from the greater public. To speak out against them would only harm you; you would be deemed ungrateful and emotional and toxic.

 The urge to inhale a lungful of air nagged at you. That could be the breaking point, the tipping point. It would return you to life. You looked to Kylo, whose eyes had not left you for even a moment. It mattered not that war played on.

 In the land of the living there remained much to accomplish after the Supreme Leader Armitage Hux of the First Order fell. Skirmishes played out to their completion; the dead were tallied and, where possible, collected. More joined their number before night came to the planet. The count increased still by dawn as mortal injuries claimed their victims. Likewise, the battles that had taken place in other parts of the galaxy came to their own conclusions. Where the First Order had gained victories, reinforcements arrived to defeat those battered vessels and soldiers. Countless beings peered down into the pools of water as they gathered around those bodies in the land between life and death. They observed those alive preparing to enter the new chapter of life’s story.

 Vicrul, struck by a mortal wound that had severed his right arm from his body, had been among the first to join you at the edge of such pools of water. He had been the one to slide your hand into his, to give it a squeeze. By the end of the battle, however, he no longer resided in the land between life and death, nor did he transcend into an existence beyond death. Order of Ren soldiers that had trained in the art of Force healing had worked exhaustively to revive him. They did so at a great cost--several of them traded their lives for his. Others remained alive due to the foresight of utilizing Vicrul’s scythe, which had previously torn the souls from foes. The weapon relinquished its hold on those souls, allowing Vicrul’s body to absorb them. 

 You felt him brush along you, a ghost slipping back into the realm of the living. He had thrashed in pain, swearing and cursing, wrenched from the peace that he had known and thrust into the agony of life. This discomfort and pain lessened as more healing abilities were poured into him. The bleeding stopped, though his arm remained absent.

 Kylo’s spirit remained at your side though he himself, his physical body, did not cease in its movements. The two of you were one, ever connected. Another urge to breathe at this thought alone struck you. And yet… Sometimes there was too much life in living--though you did not wish to escape, not always, it overwhelmed you. To have empathy and face possible betrayal. After you had known such peace, that was an agony that burdened you so that your knees gave out and you crumpled.

 If you breathed, would you collapse?

 You squeezed Kylo Ren’s hand just as Vicrul had done the same with you at the water’s edge. All the while you observed via reflections in starlight the world of the living continue on both with and without you.

 Time crawled. The ever-constant fighting left, which thrust many into a state of confusion, of acknowledged weariness. There were planets that had been molested less than others by the chaos of war; of those, only a number extended offers of assistance without any sort of prompting. Another portion followed suit or else agreed when there were direct requests. Few protested when the final portion rejected taking any action. They turned their eyes to Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader of the Order of Ren, leader of the final battle. What they had expected from him, one could not say with a certainty although there were obvious guesses to be made. Violence. Manipulation via the Force. Instead Kylo did not force them. He allowed them to take these actions, aware that the galaxy was observing with curiosity, with a memory that would last through the ages.

 Where were you when--? What did you do after--? They were the ones that would deal with the consequences of their negligence.

 Kylo Ren issued other orders to set up a body of galactic law enforcement similar to what the New Republic had utilized and at which Poe Dameron had worked prior to joining the Resistance. Its focus was on the sorts of scum and scavengers that threatened to take advantage of the war-ravaged galaxy. Included in this were First Order officers and other personnel that had managed escape along with its silent partners. Pirates and crime syndicates likewise desired to tackle easy prey. Poe was given a lead position on the force, and there were volunteers from the former Resistance along with Order of Ren pilots that were not ready to settle down.

 Rey and Rose each went to the planets of their birth. Hays Minor required much cleaning due to the pollution caused by the First Order. Many people that had fought alongside her accompanied Rose. There were some that had known her sister, Paige, and so journeyed to Hays Minor in her honor. As for Rey, her journey was of a more personal nature thus her company was more limited. Finn naturally volunteered the moment that he learned of her intentions. She did not reject him, her expression soft and one of relief. She was not alone--after so many years on Jakku alone, she now had a family and friends that would not abandon her.

 For Force sensitive beings, Kylo Ren’s vision of normalizing their capabilities by simultaneously rejecting and embracing Sith and Jedi ideology--taking the inclusive teachings while tossing aside those that created biases--there were changes being made. One of those changes was the elimination of any programs that grabbed children from their parents such as the stormtrooper program that Brendol Hux had created and that Armitage had furthered. It had been a practice of the Jedi as well, had perhaps what allowed Han and Leia to feel content with sending Kylo to Luke when they had failed to understand or accept him as a child.

 The next step was to--Finn’s idea, which had its importance emphasized by Rey’s personal mission--reunite the stormtroopers with their families. Lando was swift to volunteer to assist. He had the means and willingness to travel for an extended period. Lando was not fully familiar working with children, however young adults were another story. He connected with them, listened to them. He had enough real world experience outside of war that there were minimal protests. Most that did exist came from Order of Ren officers that had conflicted feelings regarding the new changes arising now that the First Order was defeated. They were not fond of the former Rebellion heroes.

 Many of those former heroes resided in the land of the dead. Chewbacca was not among that number. He returned to Kashyyk to his family, albeit not until after he had a proper reunion with Kylo Ren. They had sat together, shared a meal. Chewbacca stood at Kylo’s side when the dead were announced. Joined him in medbay where the injured were being tended to. It was here that Kylo first beheld the state in which Vicrul had been left. Within two weeks of the final battle, though, Chewbacca said his temporary farewell to the man that was the equivalent of his nephew.

 Ushar, who had been left behind on the Star Destroyer and given instructions via commlink, had survived the final battle with no further injury other than a blow to his pride. He sat with Vicrul, who barely spoke, in medbay prior to locating Trudgen, who had been placed into a medically induced coma due to the extent of his injuries. Trudgen’s bed sat near the bacta tank in which Cardo had been placed to heal the wounds that threatened to cause nerve damage and deep scars.

 Vicrul, still silent, was nevertheless more interactive with Millicent when Ap’lek brought the feline to medbay for a visit. Kuruk alternated between secluding himself from the world to spending time with his fellow Knights of Ren. Each of them broken yet unbent. Within two weeks of the war’s end, Kuruk managed to convince Vicrul to move forward with his prosthetic arm. The pair tended to the plants from Naboo, which had grown in number as other planets and pilots of ships contributed to the collection for breeding purposes.

 In these small ways, the land of the living moved forward--and these small things, each of them, had been the motivation for you taking that breath.

 There are times that you forget you are in the land of the living, and it is during such occurrences that you realize you know peace--have known peace--between periods of strife. Now there was a simultaneous acceptance of and aversion towards death. You were not afraid to be welcomed into its embrace, however you wanted to live. The chaos of the galaxy did threaten to overwhelm you, prompting you to retreat into solitude that only he could intrude upon. His footsteps, growing in volume, signified that he meant to do just that. You opened your eyes, focus wavering between the tingling running along the back of your neck and the awareness that there were blankets draped across your lap.

 The previous threats to your body--him--and to your mind--you--no longer burned you. This absence of suspense and ulterior motivations instilled a sense of awe that had not yet failed to emerge by way of a smile when he entered your line of vision.

 A single large window claimed two-thirds the expanse of the wall directly across from the room’s entrance. Stars shone through it, illuminating the sky along with the moon that peered down upon the trees that stretched towards the heavens. Shades of blues and greens were dotted with deep purples and dark pinks. There might never be an equivalent, however this was the closest you had come to feeling as though you were on Naboo. Your mother had secured the arrangements for you to rest on the planet while she and Kylo Ren delved into politics. 

 This system was war weary, quite ready to welcome a sovereign that permitted its local governments to remain in place with minor adjustments. This willingness did not, you suspected, equate to complacency nor a lack of ambition in terms of setting up proper trade routes. Kylo Ren’s fatigue showed on his face; shadows darkened the flesh under his eyes, and his brows were creases despite the absence of a scowl. His expression brightened as yours did when his gaze met yours.

 “I thought about the offer,” you said in a hushed voice, aware that he might have a headache after the day’s business had concluded. Kylo shook his head. You knew that he was holding himself back from chastising you; the proposal that you had received in regards to a career--one of many, in fact--had been one that he had hoped you would store away for a different time. Each person that you had met, every individual that knew you well, were in agreement that you required time for rest. To truly rest. “I haven’t made a decision.”

 That elicited a hum of curiosity from his chest, a sort of rumble that you felt roll throughout your body in turn. The muscles in your abdomen tightened. Breath hitching, you shuddered and drew your legs towards one another. Kylo’s hum turned into a single quiet purr of pleasure. He stalked towards the bed. Used two fingers, twitching them, to close the door. The existence of the large window and its current absence of a shade or curtain meant that any passersby--of which there were presently none--could see the activities within the room. This fact did not cause Kylo pause, nor did it dissuade you from tilting back your head to expose your throat to him. Starlight streaming through the transparisteel created streaks of light upon your flesh and his.

 The mattress dipped underneath his weight. You rocked backwards, let yourself roll and collapse upon the pillow, and stared up at him as he crawled over you. Your eyes were wide, your heart racing. You were not afraid. It had simply hit you again--this was real. You were alive, your body could be touched, you could experience pain and pleasure. Tears brimmed in the corners of your eyes. They spilled along with the first sob. You threw yourself at him, thrusting your body upwards and practically catapulting off the bed so that your chest slammed into his. Your arms wound around his neck. Your legs crossed, trapping one of his between them. He had pulled you out of death’s embrace when you had decided that you wanted to live. Kylo was your anchor and your sails, he was everything you needed whether you required a moment to remain still or else were ready to sail forward.

 Hands cupped either side of your face and tilted back your head until it met the pillow. You arched your body in response to prevent contact from being broken. Kylo drew his limbs down along the materials of your clothing. He worked to eliminate all barriers. First yours. His touch a phantom, skimming along surfaces without making full contact. The gloves that he wore did not diminish the intimacy with which he handled you. His eyes, ever expressive, were all that you stared at. All that you needed to peer into. Their bottomless depths, so filled with emotions and secrets.

 There was a dampness to them, unformed tears creating a new layer to the pool in which you were willingly drowning. You knew this expression, the look. It was painted across your own face, albeit with the inclusive of tears. It was how you had stared down at him when he had died in your arms--don’t leave, don’t leave me alone--and you knew that a single word could make him crumple. It would shatter him like glass. Your mouth dropped open once more, a new, strangled sound erupting.

 Kylo lifted one hand from you in order to begin removing the layers of his own clothing. Those leather gloves released noises that caused you to swallow repeatedly. Gulping down air and saliva in alteration. Starlight amplified by the window dotted his flesh, reminding you of the cloak he had worn. Glancing down at long last, you noticed similar creations on your own skin, no different than the gown that had once adorned your body. Kylo lifted his arms, rose up to a greater height above you as he knelt on the bed. The mattress shifted under each movement. Leather slipped away to reveal those hands you so loved, the ones that aided in molding you.

 They met your shoulders and you realized that you were more than a damaged body, more than a vessel for death. Your abdominal muscles tensed, pulled towards your spine as you sucked in air then temporarily refused to breathe. You were not Death; your barren body was not an instrument of destruction. You were more than that. A creator, an artist, one who used the available tools to design on canvases woven with hope.

 You traced the contours of his countenance with the very tips of your fingers. Every smooth surface, every scar, each mole. You knew it as well as you knew your own features. It mattered not if you were dead or alive, if you were in the dark or the light. This was your soul, your being, you. You were complete in yourself, content with yourself. He was a part of that.

 “I’m alive,” you said in what could barely pass as a whisper. Your voice caught in your throat, cracking. Kylo pressed his forehead to yours. Strands of his hair tickled your cheeks. He moved between your legs without attempting to enter you. The pair of you were breathing one another in. Grounded, anchored, together.

 Kylo was the first to shift. His nose ran along yours, caressed your lips, ghosted down your throat--you tilted back your head and stared with wide eyes at the ceiling--moved from your breasts all the way to directly below your navel. He parted your folds with his nose then his tongue, which flicked back and forth, side to side, spreading you. You shuddered. Wetness flowed from you, your slick gathering on the tongue that prodded, that traced lazy designs upon your sensitive flesh. You entangled your fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp without pushing him against you. He was taking lead in this dance, in this union.

 He slipped one finger into you along with his tongue, moving limb and organ in opposite directions. Even as your eyelids fluttered closed, you could see the stars. The planets, sun and moon. Warmth enveloped you, wrapping around you as his tongue curled, as his mouth sealed around your cunt in a wet kiss. He moaned into the kiss. The vibrations made you throb, caused you to clench around his finger and tongue. Kylo inserted a second digit, scissoring you and rolling his tongue between the two fingers so that he could toy with a sensitive bundle of nerves situated near your entrance. You clenched again, stomach fluttering.

 More tears spilled from your eyes, these ones for a different reason. You were alive and you were happy with that. There was peace here with him, within yourself. You cupped your breasts. This body that had been injured in the war, that had taken months to heal--that would take more time to fully heal--it was beautiful to you. It was yours. You were comfortable within your own skin, and Kylo made you feel worthy of affection, of adoration, of the attention he was paying you. I am complete within myself. His nose nudged your clit, sending a new spark of pleasure coursing through your veins.

 Three sides--you, him, the whole self. To reject one was to blind them all.

 “Little tooke,” Kylo purred. For the first time, you repeated those words back to him. He paused, having been shifting to resume touching you, to fuck you with his tongue. “Not a rancor?”

 You watched him draw back, Kylo shifting up onto his knees and you moving along with him so that you were able to straddle him. He held onto your hips, his eyes locked with yours. That same expression--he could break if you said something hurtful. If you rejected him, which you would never do. “I think we can be both. But… I used to be afraid to be vulnerable.” You reached down, stroked his cock, which twitched in your hand. Stroking the underside, you traced the prominent vein. “I could reveal parts of myself and not break. I can use the parts I am proud of without fear. There were the other parts I tried to hide away.” You lined him up with you, sank down onto him. You took a shuddered breath, eyelids fluttering, and you were temporarily unable to speak.

 Kylo released a grunt. He helped to guide you down, holding back from thrusting into you with abandon. You licked your lips. “There are tooke trap plants...they eat tooke. A natural order. Death is part of the cycle, but--people view rancors as monsters. So, with that in mind,” you lifted yourself, sank down again. Moaned. Felt his length spearing you open. “I… I’m toxic to monsters. They may try to destroy me, and if they do...they’ll fall as well. But I’m not inherently toxic. I’m not worthless. Whether I’m scared or small or large or brave, I’m not a monster that doesn’t belong in the world. When I’m a rancor, at my ugliest, I belong. And you as well. You know, I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you.

 “At one point I lived to kill you--anything could have destroyed me along the way. I was on a path of self-destruction. Only by colliding with you did I come alive again. I was so lost. Just some lost girl running away from myself, from life. Avoiding the darkness but also straying away from the light.” You kissed him. Kylo cupped your neck in one hand, a breast in another. He squeezed, massaging, with both. You tightened yourself around him with each undulation of his hands.

 “I am one when I’m with you. I am not hatred any longer.” Another kiss. “And I am not afraid. I am love. A small creature in this large galaxy. A little tooke for you, with you. You’re my tooke as well.” You released a heavy breath, lifted your body. Felt his cock starting to slip from you--slammed yourself back down and discovered that he had been thinking the same thing, that he needed to be within you. His body collided with yours. “If I consume you, I’ll die as well. So I am the rancor to your tooke, you are the rancor to mine.”

 You were unsure if you were making any sense, however Kylo nodded. He knew you. Knew what you meant--you were the same as one another, the entire cycle of life and death, of soul, of being. In public he would not allow himself to be a tooke, to be vulnerable. Yet there he was in your arms, buried in you, and you knew it to be true. You wound your arms around his neck.

 “My tooke.” He crossed his arms behind your back, holding onto your shoulders as though you were life itself. You would not crush him.

 The calloused pads of his fingertips traced down the length of your torso. You shuddered at his touch, gasped and gulped in air. As he touched you, you regained each piece of yourself that had begun to shatter while you had slept; while you had dreamed of losing all that you had left, of lost love and of betrayal, and of isolation rather than solace. Kylo cupped your breasts with his hands, sealed his mouth over your nipple and rolled the bud with his tongue, causing it to harden and perk up. Your body tightened around his cock. He shoved you onto your back, his hips rocking with more force as he began to fuck you in earnest. There was no absence of affection despite the seemingly harsher movements. It was a mutual need, a shared desire.

 “Oh,” you gasped out, tears springing into the corners of your eyes as warmth began to build inside of you. A dam of pleasure, hot and pulsing, a thrumming that made your jaw drop as an explosion rippled throughout your body.

 Wrapped up in his body, there were no lingering questions of what next now that the war had ended. There was a present. Only the now, which was an embrace that you clung to and never wished to be released from. Your orgasm shattered you without breaking you. You screamed Kylo’s name, heard him grunt in reply. Felt his body pistoning into yours, his cock stretching your pulsing walls. He plunged into your cunt after drawing almost completely out of your body. Kylo groaned your name as he came inside of you, his cum filling you, leaking from you when he pulled away.

 You set the heels of your hands against your eyes, worked to regulate your breathing. Teeth nipped upwards from your inner thigh to your cunt to your breast, where Kylo paused to leave marks. His fingers plunged back into you, fucking you. You swallowed down saliva before letting yourself simply drool as he turned you into an incoherent mess. The mattress squeaked obnoxiously. Your cunt released lewd, wet noises as your cum and his mingled, his fingers driving in and out, thumb swirling on your clit until you were cumming again. This time your screams had no volume; they were too loud, a mixture of pleasure and pain--ecstasy--as he bit down on your breast, bruising you.

 I’m alive, you thought for what seemed like the millionth time. Tears rolled down from the corners of your eyes onto the blankets underneath your head. Kylo climbed up, his mouth hungrily claiming yours. You returned the kiss, your tongue joining his in a dance that he had taught you. His body enveloped yours, completed yours. You felt safe.

 “Will you see them?” His question broke through. You winced, sucked your lips into your mouth. Why were you so afraid of seeing the others? The Knights of Ren. Rey. Finn. These people who had known you before death, before you had become complete. These people who loved you even when you felt unlovable. When you lashed out in anger because it was easier to be angry than it was to be hurt. Because he understood this, Kylo would not push beyond asking that question.

 You breathed again. It was such a foreign feeling when you were conscious of the act. The heavy weight on your chest. The burning sensation if you held in the breath or did not drag enough air inside.

 Lifting your hands, you entangled your fingers in his hair and traced each of his features with your eyes. Whether you left this room to visit the others, life went on the same as it would have had you chosen death. But I did not choose death, I chose life. Your eyes widened. Life came in far too many forms to count. To number them was to number the stars; the endless possibilities and choices available altered the paths one took, the sights they saw. That was strange to you in some ways, realizing that you had a choice. Where before you had been a captive of circumstance, now you actively chose.

 I can choose to move forward now, or I can stay here for a little while longer. You licked your lips. “Kylo.” Your first choice. You had, as you had told him, thought about the offer that had been extended to you regarding your future. To answer it in either the positive or the negative, first you would need to see the others. Am I ready? “Kylo.” His name was a prayer, a mantra, a comfort. He said yours in return, and you felt your soul thrum with joy.