#the fact that he's a broken person rather than someone more inclined to dark paths doesn't lessen his redemption

[frumfrumfroo]

I’m new here and couldn’t tell from the tone of some asks (sorry) but did you like what they did with Ben in TRoKR ? I saw the discussions abt him lacking agency in it and I 100% agree but did you personality agree w/ the passive, “things only happen to me” vibe they gave him? And second question: can u give examples of how soule’s writing was telegrsmed in TFA? Thank u for taking the time xx

Like I’ve said before, it’s exactly the kind of backstory I would have written for him/always imagined. I had expected to find out he didn’t kill the other students/fought them in self defence/it was some kind of accident or emotional overload incident in TLJ. That was where everything was pointing.

Someone this insecure and conflicted about what he’s doing, someone who prays for help to resist his loving nature and cries when he sees his dad, who is so uncomfortable with himself he is covered head to toe not even his voice unmasked, who immediately latches on to the protagonist as a kindred spirit in loneliness and needs her to know he’s not a creature and wants to help her rather than hurt her- that’s not a person who had an eyes-open, all-in fall to the dark side full of decisive action and unhindered agency.

Leia saying ‘it was Snoke’ told us from the get go we’re in a situation where he was haunted and manipulated. His subservience and rote, childish repetition of ‘the Supreme Leader is wise’ when Han tells him Snoke doesn’t care about him. The constant, ongoing contradiction of his behaviour and motives tell us he has no conviction in the cause he’s supposedly supporting. His self-harm and naked suffering in the face of his own actions, his recklessness and inability to commit to selfishness and lack of ambition tell us those aren’t qualities which drove him here. He is highly emotionally driven, there’s no tangible goal and he doesn’t have a vision of the future. So why is he on the dark side?

It’s not that things only happen to him or that he’s passive, it’s that Ben has never pursued or been comfortable with what darkness really is and that has always been obvious. He tries very, very hard and fights tooth and claw to cling to something good in the comic until all of it is in ashes- he’s not passive, but he can’t win. No one can hold out forever against that kind of relentless onslaught. That he was absolutely a victim doesn’t mean he has no agency in his later choices. He’s not absolved of responsibility. But his reluctance and victimhood only makes sense, anything else would be incongruous with TFA.

There was never pursuit of power for power’s sake from him- there’s nothing he wants that the dark side can give him, he is there literally because he felt he had nowhere else to go. I said this before TLJ even came out. He felt he could not escape it, both because of the fatalism his family unintentionally instilled in him and because Snoke convinced him none of them loved him, that he is only useful or valued as a tool. Ben is a person who doesn’t believe he has any inherent value just for himself- just Ben, he believes that he can’t be forgiven for the sin of being born a disappointment, and that everything is his fault because he’s wrong and bad no matter what he does. None of his choices feel to him like real choices, all of his options appear to have been taken from him, and he feels compelled to plunge forward on the only remaining path. The comic provided an emotionally and logically cogent explanation for exactly why he would feel that way which is completely consistent with all the implications about his past and his characterisation from the films.

As I’ve pointed out before, there’s a reason he says ‘it’s too late’ to coming home not ‘I don’t want to’. There’s a reason he says ‘what I have to do’ and ‘he (I) was weak and foolish’- there’s a reason he needs Han’s help to go through with killing his father. It’s not about what he wants (he wants to go home with his dad- he thinks he can’t), he has never felt free to make his own choices or that freedom is possible for him.

Even at his darkest he never became cruel, he never enjoyed killing or hurting people, and he totally fails to suppress his instinct to be compassionate. He has a highly developed conscience and an overflowing core of empathy he can’t seal off. That’s why he’s so miserable as he pushes himself to do things he finds abhorrent- but he thinks he has to, there’s no escape, it’s the only way. In the sequence which establishes this character, even before any layers are stripped away or the investment we naturally have in him because of who he is is revealed, one of the first things we see him do is have compassion for F/nn. Those two characters are connected and a comparison is invited- this is visual storytelling showing you that they have something in common (it will be made clear later on that Ben saw himself in F/nn and that’s why he takes his actions so personally- cognitive dissonance).

F/nn was a good person trapped in the mask of the stormtrooper by circumstances beyond his control, but he is able to reject it and reclaim his identity. Ben is a good person hounded into the mask of Kylo Ren by his family’s failure to reconcile with Vader. The crushing weight of their expectations and their total lack of faith in him combined with their lies and Snoke’s manipulation convinces him there is ‘too much Vader in him’ and that Ben Solo isn’t and never will be good enough for anyone. That his love, compassion, and selflessness are all weaknesses which will only cause both him and the galaxy further suffering.

He is the most morally sensitive person in the new gen, he is the most outward-orientated and loving. His impulse is to be selfless and helpful, but that impulse has been relentlessly punished until he mistrusts it and thinks he must repress his wrong instincts and serve a ‘greater order’ guided by someone stronger than him. He has an acute sense of the impact of his actions and he considers it (even when he loses control of his emotions, he overwhelmingly targets things rather than people and his angry threats are empty).

In contrast, Anakin (who was committed on the dark side and successfully cut himself off from his empathy for many years) was all in on the pursuit of power even when he still had good intentions. Anakin also knew that power was the foundation of the dark side and he and Palpatine would always be at odds, that some day he would overthrow him and take his place. Ben only values power out of fear, and solely primal fear not more abstract, possessive fear like Anakin’s, he wants safety. He doesn’t go to Snoke thinking he’s ever going to take his place or gain his power- he wants Snoke to give him belonging and acceptance. He’s then convinced that the ends justify the means and doing things he knows are wrong and which cause him pain are necessary because his whole life and Snoke’s machinations have set him up to believe that. He is still trying to create safety and doing what he’s convinced must be done and will be done one way or another.

Ben is a beautiful compassionate person and always has been and that is why he’s in such constant, excruciating pain trying to shut himself off from love and vulnerability. He is following Snoke’s demands and trying to kill his past to stop the pain, to kill this vulnerability and need and weakness in himself. Connection was always what he wanted most and he is trying to cut off and cauterise all of the broken, abandoned bonds of love his family has left him with. And even here, he still wants Snoke’s acceptance, Snoke’s validation and esteem. He is still pouring himself out for an other, giving everything to please someone else, the last person left who tells him it’s possible he can achieve value.

He latched on to Rey instantly when he realised they were alike and did everything possible to lift her up and spare her what he went through. He only rejected Han and Rey’s offers to come with them because he thinks their love is conditional and that small, dirty, broken Ben Solo will never be able to meet the conditions. He thinks he is a tool or an obligation to them and it’s easy to understand why he thinks that. Han couldn’t wipe away a lifetime of baggage in a few words. Rey pretends it’s about the cause, she doesn’t tell him she loves him.

He thinks he must ‘become who he was meant to be’ and that his destiny is to become a new Vader. Everyone told him that. Whether with their fear or directly with words. When he finds out the truth about his grandfather, it’s a complete confirmation of what Snoke has told him and how his parents have treated him. Luke deciding he can’t be allowed to live because it’s that inevitable is the nail in the coffin in Ben believing there’s any place for him with his family. There is nowhere for him to exist as himself, he has to be someone else, someone less weak. And in running away from himself, his legacy, and his identity he puts himself under Snoke’s thumb and Snoke can finish inculcating his worldview.

Being able to love is freedom to Ben. He is an immensely loving person who feels like he is not worthy or allowed to love people, that his love has done nothing but make things worse for everyone. The tension and repression of trying not to need or care about people is what makes him so emotionally unstable. Kylo Ren is a mask and a shield and a prison built by Ben’s hurt and anxiety but equally built by Snoke out of his boyhood fancies to control him and shape him into an instrument of pain. Ben could never have conviction in it because it is so alien to his nature. He is so fundamentally unselfish that he never coveted like Anakin eventually did, his love never became possessive or jealous, he never sold his soul for a boon, the only way he could be selfish enough to murder is out of animal fear and pain. Wanting the hurting to stop. Rationalising it post-facto with the philosophy that the ends justify the means.

He pours himself out for Snoke because there is no one else left. All he wants is the safety and acceptance that he has literally never had anywhere. Anakin received unconditional love from his mother, Obi-wan, and Padmé and was warped from giving compassion into selfishness by his fear of loss and need for control. Covetousness became his tragic flaw and thus his fall culminates in trying to kill Padmé rather than lose her. Control became so important that others ceased to matter and love became possession. Anakin (despite also being a victim of manipulation and Jedi hubris) got to make real choices, he had real options, and thus he was a villain with conviction. Ben’s attempts to take control of his life are unfocussed and mostly involve abnegation, he pushes people away instead of trying to clutch them close; his response to loss is to isolate himself not seize power to recover the lost thing by force. Ben never received unconditional love until Han’s sacrifice on the bridge and the experience immediately shatters him from his already tenuous position in the dark. The only thing keeping him from coming home after that is sunk cost and the idea that he can never be forgiven. That it was too late.

He just needed someone to show him it wasn’t.

[autumnblogs]

Day 43: Openbound

We’ll principally be doing Act 6 Intermission 3 today, so expect lots of pictures in this one!

Believe it or not, I initially didn’t like Openbound very much; I felt like it kind of dragged on my first readthrough, and generally had a pretty hard time getting myself to care about the Dancestors. They’re a pretty unsympathetic bunch.

Then again, lots of Homestuck characters are pretty unsympathetic! I’ve been really feeling that in the second half, as retrospect allows me to view a lot of secondary characters through the lens that we’re not intended to get attached to them.

That said, Openbound is actually pretty key to helping us understand the second half of the comic, I think, and makes explicit a lot of the themes that it explores, and how it builds upon the first half.

I think that the theme of Openbound as a self-contained work within Homestuck that we can use as a tool to decode Homestuck can be concisely stated like this; “Nostalgia and a desire for unity with the past causes toxic stagnation.”

So, aside from the introduction that we’ve already gotten to Meenah through the short conversation she had with the other kids, this is our first real opportunity to get to know her! Boy is she obsessed with money.

Money, like Cake, is a symbol that is associated with the Aspect of Life. As an aspect principally associated with Raw Power - the power to do what you want, unfettered by the stringent restrictions that are associated with Doom - it’s natural that Life would be associated with money.

The origin of money in history is pretty nebulous; it precedes the invention of writing, so any theory concerning its invention is ultimately conjecture. What I think is interesting about money is that the move toward a monetary economy in history mostly (but not always) happens as a result of the fact that it is way more efficient to collect taxes; the state mints standard coins, only accepts taxes in the form of standard coins, and propagates them into the economy by buying goods and services from the market.

It’s a tool of government, and even though Meenah may abrogate her inheritance, the Princess can’t escape her birthright. Money offers control, security... and power. What makes all of this extra interesting is that money is effectively worthless in the afterlife. Here, there’s actually nothing for her to really buy or spend it on; anyone can dream up whatever they want with ease.

It’s a nice bit of callback humor that Meenah has the same reaction to discovering the Thorns of Oglogoth that Rose does, but unlike Rose, Meenah actually does destroy them on the spot.

For being so headstrong and dangerous, there are ways in which Meenah is really pretty surprisingly sensible.

Lord English can destroy ghosts - this has always been a pretty disturbing thought for me. I may have said something to this effect before, but if I haven’t I’m a free-thinking Theist - raised in the Church, and largely independent in terms of beliefs, but I’m still pretty convinced that there is some kind of life after death. It doesn’t bother me nearly as much in works that have final death as a general presupposition, but it always bothers me when some kind of eternal life after death exists in a setting, and can be arbitrarily denied by evil beings with some power or another, like how some Demons and Liches can destroy or devour a soul in Dungeons and Dragons.

In Homestuck though, it fits with the themes established by the ways in which everyone God Tiers - spiritual power can be pretty arbitrary, and generally signifies very little about the moral worth of the one who has it; it does not intrinsically elevate the one who has it. It fits with its general criticism of power and the powerful, whether that’s the Mayor’s hatred of Kings, or the associating of corporatism with the worst parts of Jane’s characterization and Crockercorp in general.

Lord English has the power to destroy ghosts and end the lives of immortals not because he has attained to any kind of heightened spiritual awareness. He’s just some douchebag who through cosmic serendipity was in the right place at the right time to become basically all-powerful.

I adore Meenah’s spark. Who gives a fuck if Lord English is invincible? She knows exactly what she’s going to do when she gets her hands on him, and she’s got a plan from the outset. I think it’s also interesting the way that even though Meenah is absolutely taken by the spectacle of power, it isn’t sufficient to make her want to join up with English. Only soft power works on Meenah Peixes; emotional intimacy, friendship... keeping her entertained. All of these are the actual way to moderate her violent and dangerous personality.

While neither Rose nor Meenah is a parallel character to either Gendo or Rei from Neon Genesis Evangelion (I think, actually, that Dirk is the character who most strongly parallels both of them), this bit reminds me of the way that Ritsuko describes both of them;

Rose says of herself and Meenah, “You’re not very good at this, are you? ... talking to people.”

Ritsuko says of Gendo and Rei, “They’re not very adept (at)... living, I suppose.”

The same can really be said of a lot of characters in Homestuck, particularly the ones who primarily find their identity in some form of power-seeking. Whether it’s Rose, or Dirk, or Meenah, or even someone as innocuous as Jake, none of them is particularly adept at living.

Rose is pretty conciliatory with Meenah; given her attraction to danger and darkness, it’s probably not surprising that she makes such an obvious pass at Meenah in spite of the fact that she probably knows what their relationship was in another life.

Further evidence that Rose is the horniest Homestuck character.

“you know how it is with ancestors

they just kind of hold this inexplicable power over you”

Dave continues to progress down the path of not giving a shit, as did Sollux before him.

He’s not quite to the level of reluctance that he eventually adopts, of choosing to just not engage with English at all.

Gods are, to some extent, aware of the various narrative forces that govern their existence.

About the only thing this piece of nasty trash has in common with Karkat is the extent to which they both blabber, and he helps create contrast with the other, somewhat more likable dancestors. Kankri is pretty much openly contemptible, and really in the worst way. I’m almost inclined to call him a concern troll because of the extent to which his verbal essays exist purely to make him feel better about himself. Any time it comes time for him to listen to people who historically actually suffered from the systems they were involved in, Kankri shows his true colors, slut-shaming and misogynistic.

Unsurprisingly, The Other Thief is also the vector for English’s ideology in her session, “turning us against each other to make us stronger.” While Kurloz may be a worshipper of English, and Damara may have thrown in her lot with the demon because of her nihilistic despair, Meenah (rather like Dirk!) is clearly driven toward a life of violence, and restless action for its own sake.

Now we’re starting to get some insight into Feferi’s style of rulership, which in turn, probably gives us some insight into Jane. For Feferi, leadership means taking power away from the people you’re leading if it seems like they have the potential to hurt themselves (or to be a drain on society if left to their own devices). It represents a violation of agency, perhaps not so severe as the kind that Vriska perpetrates usually.

Feferi and Jane are the sort of people, I think, who want to create a perfect world - but it’s important to them that they’re the one who’s creating that world, and less important that the world is perfect for anyone in particular. Just perfect.

https://homestuck.com/story/5288

John’s whole self-conception, and especially his conception of himself as a man, and someone who might be growing up to take on the same roles as his Father, is tied up in the icons of dadliness and masculinity in the movies that he likes.

So we should expect that his disillusionment with his past will change the way that he thinks about his future, and what he’s going to do with it. It’s a shame that this line of questioning never goes anywhere in Homestuck proper, but I’ll use it as evidence in the “John/June Egbert is trans” folder. Reminds me of how my decisive lack of affinity for the Boy Scouts serves as a nice little retrospective bit of evidence in my own trans narrative.

Based on the number of trans Eagle Scouts I know, I feel like there’s a certain extent to which it be like, a fast-track to figuring that out about yourself, like, you tried all the boy stuff and just decided, nope! Not for me.

https://homestuck.com/story/5290

Man, especially if we continue to read this section of Homestuck as conflating the characters and the audience, this whole section reads as John not just having a meltdown about Con Air, but also generally having a meltdown about his own story so far - everything he’s done in Sburb, etc. It just all feels lame and shitty in retrospect, when it was something that was kind of exciting at the time, at least up until the point where his loved ones all dropped dead there at the end.

It turns out that there was nothing particularly edifying about John’s suffering.

https://homestuck.com/story/5300

Teens can be such monsters. It’s the anniversary of Bro’s Death too. Davesprite is probably as broken up about that as John is about Dad, but it’s hard for boys/men to talk about that kind of thing with each other.

Cronus is even more of an incel than Eridan. He may be the most singularly contemptible character in Paradox Space. Do I hate anyone more than Cronus? No, I think I do not.

I won’t have a lot to say about the middle leg of Openbound; it’s relatively empty of substance, and not much that happens in it is ever relevant again compared to the first and second legs.

I like to think that this leg of the journey is, more than anything, a chance to ruminate on some joke characters who were already parodies; parodies of parodies, a joke made at the expense of an existing joke. The kind of thing Dirk Strider would write, basically.

Hey check it out, the Year of Our Lord 2012, and Andrew was starting to show some mild sensitivity in his choice of words. Just mild enough to have the lowest character in the story show a tiny bit of sensitivity himself.

This leg of the adventure does give us some more insight into Meenah’s character. Just like Vriska, she’s all about being a hardass super-murder, until she starts causing problems for the people she actually cares about.

Being Evil Sucks.

This is a really weird sentiment for Karkat to have in light of like, everything else about the latter half of the comic. I mean, he hasn’t exactly had the epiphany yet that the ideas that he has about being a leader are kind of awful and shitty, so it’s possible that he’s talking the Condesce up to avoid thinking about that. IDK.

He also immediately claims he’ll leave behind the meteor to go and join Meenah’s army, so maybe Karkat is just in a pretty low place in general? That tracks.

Karkat’s little conversation with Terezi explains at the two thirds mark of Openbound exactly what this whole thing is about.

Almost the entire second half of the comic is about examining the character’s guardians, and their relationships with them. The Guardians - Grandpa and Bro especially - are hyped up to be these outrageous badasses, both in-and-out of universe, and their ambivalent relationship with their kids creates this ambiguity throughout the comic about whether the kids are worthy, whether they’re living up to their parents’ legacy - and it’s the kind of thing that plagues them throughout.

But the thing is, Ancestors can be lame, or even terrible. They’re not really anything to aspire to, and the image of success that they project onto the world is one of learned confidence, and usually that only if they’ve really managed to make it.

Even the best parents are flawed, and instead of trying to measure up to them, growing up healthy usually means learning what those flaws are, and committing not to reproduce them.

Parents don’t suck; they can be awesome, and generally speaking, for a long part of our life, they’re all we’ve got. It’s hard not to love them. But we shouldn’t turn them into idols.

(On another note, it’s one hundred percent fitting for Terezi’s Ancestor to be an outrageous coolgirl. Terezi is perpetually anxious about being cool enough, the sort of person who is breathlessly fun to be around, who commands the attention of everyone around her, and she’s surrounded by them wherever she goes.)

https://homestuck.com/story/5340

John’s distress leads him to dream about his dead Dad, and boy is he angry. He spends a lot of the second half of the comic seething in rage directed at whomever is responsible for all the suffering he and his friends endure, dishing out beatdowns toward those responsible, but I’ve never gotten the impression that these little outbursts of his are particularly rewarding for him.

https://homestuck.com/story/5358

That was quite a blow. He knocked out like a tenth of Jack’s health bar.

https://homestuck.com/story/5387

Depending on where you’re standing some really totally different things can matter to different people. From Vriska’s point of view, the things that happened back when she was alive totally don’t matter at all anymore - only the matter of Cosmic importance that is fighting Lord English.

But the stuff that matters to the people she left behind, and the suffering she’s responsible for - especially for putting Terezi in a position where she had to slay her - all of that still matters very much to the people who are alive, which is what makes her self-conception as someone who is on the side of the angels now really... not sit well.

She clearly hasn’t changed all that much. She just thinks, as usual, that now that things are even, now that the score is settled, things can go back to the way they were before.

https://homestuck.com/story/5388

Tavros and Vriska are really bad for each other in general. Like, it’s not good for her to be around someone as pliable as Tavros is, and it’s plain to everybody that it’s not good for him to be around her either; whenever he’s around her, he apes her bogus inflated self-esteem in all the worst ways.

https://homestuck.com/story/5397

Tavros’ explanation of what Vriska does suggests that storytelling has become kind of a ritual for her - a means by which she is attempting to connect with her Ancestor, by performing the same actions she is, miming her - still the same old Vriska.

That’ll be all for now. Cam signing off for now - join me for the thrilling conclusion to Openbound tomorrow, Same Cam Time, Same Cam Channel.

[quarterfromcanon]

1-4. For the asks

Thank you so much for sending these! <3 

Once I started to answer them, I realized there were comparatively few recent television shows appearing on the list. I seemed to keep gravitating toward older ones I remembered from years ago. I took a handful of days to mull it over in case I was forgetting something, but nothing else comes to mind. Maybe my ongoing list of Shows to Watch During Quarantine will turn up some fresh results but, for now, it looks like I’ll be taking a little trip down memory lane. :) 

This turned out to be a pretty long and rambly post, so I’ll stow it under the cut!

Top 5 TV Shows 

1. Crazy Ex-Girlfriend - I can’t imagine this surprises anyone who has been following this blog for the past two years or so. It brought fellow fans into my life, got me back into writing fic, and prompted countless tags of meta. It’s the show my mind drifts to on a weekly basis (if not daily) even a full year after the finale. Just when it seemed I’d reached an age where that level of intense fandom involvement and character attachment might be fading, it proved that quite the opposite was true. I’m very thankful to the series for that, and for the people whose paths have crossed mine as a result.   

2. Schitt’s Creek - This is my #1 Feel Good show and, though I’ve been dodging spoilers for the final season until it gets uploaded to Netflix, I get the impression that it will remain in that top spot. The world feels softer and more hopeful there. It’s healing for my soul. I’m going to have a dreadfully difficult time saying goodbye, but I’m glad there are six season to revisit whenever I want. 

3. Stranger Things - The theme song alone sends such a rush of excitement through me. I love the aesthetic and the atmosphere. I sometimes have mixed feelings about the romances but the FRIENDSHIPS sure do have a direct line to my heartstrings. I think the way they’ve combined media influences into their own story is really neat. You get something that’s new and engaging, but you can also go back and enjoy the sources of inspiration with fresh appreciation. 

4. Joan of Arcadia - I can’t help it. The snark, the jackets, the early 2000s songs, the performances -- the nostalgia for this show is so strong. It’s not without its problems, but it did have some really good things to offer as well. I remember an episode that was one of my earliest introductions to the concept of a trigger, and the effect it could have on a person if exposed to one of theirs. The series dealt a lot with grief and the many forms it can take (I STILL can’t hear Fiona Apple’s cover of “Across the Universe” without getting misty-eyed). I’m also surprised, looking back, at the somewhat positive way I recall them discussing homosexuality on the several occasions that it came up in the show. Not to give too much credit since I don’t think there were recurring canonically LGBTQIA+ characters but, for a kid who spent most days around closed-minded people of a certain religious leaning, it was meaningful along my individual journey. I’d like to provide the several examples that are most vivid in my memory:

A. A girl with short hair, short nails, little to no makeup, and a bulky leather jacket is generally assumed to be a lesbian by the bullies at school. The show directly confronts the fact that “gay” should not be used an insult, that identity should not be assumed without the person telling you so, AND makes sure that the character in question never pushes back by saying harmful things about lesbians despite not actually being one herself. 

B. A boy who is questioning is able to confide in his big brother and have a fairly calm conversation about it; the awkwardness mostly comes from neither of them being accustomed to openly discussing emotions, not from the possibility of a negative response regarding the subject matter. 

C. Another character is accidentally discovered to be gay (he only appears in the one episode, if my memory serves), and some of the leads have the opportunity to share that for personal gain. However, even though he is a popular jock who is a bit of a jerk in the hallways, the show makes it clear that the right choice is still to leave the telling of that information up to him and him alone. 

Like I mentioned, it can’t be said that representation was in abundance here - for instance, I don’t believe anything other than straight or gay was presented as a possibility - but any accepting acknowledgement in a faith-centric series was something for me to hold on to in my still-deeply-closeted days. As a final Very Important personal side note, this show brought Judith Montgomery into my life (pictured below on the left), and that feels like it merits a shoutout for being what I consider a rather significant marker in my awakening. 

THE OVERWHELMING CRUSH I HAD - and still have - is one for the books. 

5. Pushing Daisies - This is another show with an aesthetic I adore. The series has such a fun, whimsical energy. The crime-solving! The clothes! The cast! There's a lot to love. It’s the kind of world I wish I could visit... well, minus the evidently rampant murder rate. 

Top 5 Overrated TV Shows

1. Once Upon A Time - *deep sigh* I tried to stick with it for so long. I think I’ve seen five out of the seven seasons in their entirety. It just felt like everything got mired down by excessive (and increasingly convoluted) subplots, often for the purpose of tossing in as many fairytale and/or Disney characters as possible. Plus, quite honestly, there was too much emphasis on romantic love. For a show whose first season involved a curse being broken by [potential spoiler, I suppose] a mother kissing her son’s forehead, I ultimately found myself up to my ears in romantic ships. It reached such a stifling extent that, if you were not particularly attached to those pairings, there wasn’t a whole lot else to entice further viewing. 

2. Under the Dome - I don’t know for certain what the general public opinion of this series was, but it felt like the commercials always featured alleged rave reviews, so I figured I could include it here. I was vaguely interested in Season 1, mainly as a fan of Rachelle Lefevre’s work. Season 2 pulled me in with the introduction of a new townsperson and I threw WAY too much of my heart into that attachment, which backfired when that character was killed. I made quite the spectacle of my heartbreak, so much so that my family doesn’t let me mention this show around them anymore. :P Season 3 was, to phrase it delicately, not a great time. The series did introduce me to a few new-to-me actors, though, so that was cool. 

3. Bates Motel - Even the incentive of learning that the two characters I liked most share a lot of screen time later in the series hasn’t been enough to call me back to this one. I don’t know if it was the pacing that put me off or what, but the prospect of finishing the remaining seasons feels so daunting. There are evidently five seasons in total and I believe I’ve only seen two of them thus far. I will probably muddle through it someday just to see how it goes, but the fact that I am so disinclined to prioritize it made this feel like a fair addition to the list. 

4. Lost - My interest in this series unfortunately waned right before fervent fandom spiked. I don’t have any specific complaints that come to mind about what I saw; I just sort of drifted and then stayed away. Teachers I liked and peers I spent time with were starting to latch on to the show and I couldn’t find even the slightest inclination to give it a second try. However, did I still dutifully read all the latest installments in my friend’s Sawyer Ford and Kate Austen fanfiction when she passed me handwritten copies at lunch? Sure. I was glad it made her happy, even if I was no longer a viewer. 

5. Hemlock Grove - I say this as someone who still mourns the fates of some characters in this show, so I wouldn’t go so far as to claim that the series stopped being able to make me feel anything. I’m just of the opinion that, in some ways, it might’ve been better off stopping at one season. That’s where the book it was based on ends, and things just didn’t feel as cohesive after that. Season 3 especially was - borrowing from my above review of Under the Dome - not a great time. That being said, there are also certain elements from the book that I could’ve done without in the Season 1 adaptation but... well... here we are. 

Top 5 Underrated TV Shows

1. Picnic at Hanging Rock - Another one that won’t surprise followers of this blog. I have rhapsodized about it quite frequently since I found it a little over a month ago. It’s a period piece mystery miniseries with LGBTQIA+ representation, gorgeous costumes, and Samara Weaving. This felt specifically designed to wedge its way into my heart, and I’m quite content with the space it now occupies.

2. Dark - I’m so intrigued by the overlapping timelines with all of the morally gray characters. It’s possible to like one of these people in the timeline where they’re young but dislike them as adults, or vice versa. It also makes me think of Rant by Chuck Palahniuk a little tiny bit with the idea that time travel, specifically tampering with your own timeline, might make you physically and behaviorally unrecognizable to yourself. And the SONG CHOICES! I have gotten some solid new music selections from this series. 

3. Sense8 - I still need to watch the finale. I really do. But I knew it would make me sad so I’ve avoided it for... two years now? Pretty close, I think. The concept is fascinating and the cast is so strong. Plus the cinematography! They came up with some of the coolest ways to depict the link these characters share and what it’s like when they connect over distance. The planning and careful editing it all must’ve taken... I remain in awe. 

4. Penny Dreadful - There were definitely some story/writing choices I didn’t particularly like along the way, but I did get engrossed in the creepy goodness and the performances -- Eva Green’s Vanessa Ives most of all. It left me wishing for more period piece “monster mash” stories, because having all those classic characters in one place was a blast. It also helped me understand why Helen McCrory was once slated to play Bellatrix Lestrange because she can be terrifying. Oh and Sarah Greene in her Wild West outfits? Perdita Weeks with short red hair in fencing garb, and later in all leather with boots and a long jacket? I WAS NOT PREPARED AND I HAVE STILL NOT RECOVERED. I NEVER WILL.

5. Wonderfalls - There’s some cringe-inducing handling of certain representation in the series, but I have such a weak spot for quippy outcasts who become reluctant chosen ones (Joan Girardi in Joan of Arcadia, Wynonna Earp, Jaye Tyler in this series, et cetera). I also really love the sibling dynamics here. They bicker, tease one another, help each other out of trouble, and have rare but genuine heart-to-hearts. Caroline, Lee, and Katie all did such a great job blending their characters’ adult personalities with certain childhood attributes that rise to the surface in the presence of family.  

Top 5 Movies

1. Addams Family Values - I’ve rewatched this movie at least once annually since I found it in Media Play at age 13. Usually, I’ll play it around Halloween or, at the latest, Thanksgiving. It’s mouth-along-with-every-line level ingrained in my memory. I find myself leaning forward in my seat before favorite parts because I’m still that excited to relive them. Why this movie, and why this devotion to such a degree? It’s hard to explain, even to myself. I can tell you, however, that I hold up every other portrayal of the Addams characters to the versions found in this. Everybody in the cast just feels that perfect for their part. 

2. Clue - I was already pretty fond of this movie to begin with, but then my sister got older and claimed it as a favorite of her own, so now she just supplies me with further excuses to watch it repeatedly. It’s also been a bonding piece of media with a couple of close friends and such through the years. It’s incredible to think not everyone in it was the first choice for their roles; what everybody brings to the table is so top-notch that I wouldn’t have it any other way. I also LOVE knowing that it originally went to theaters with different endings depending on which showing you attended. I gather people weren’t terribly thrilled with the stunt back then, but I kinda think some moviegoers would be into that approach these days? Then again, one hit that tried something different tends to start a fad, so maybe I’d end up regretting the suggestion after a while. :P

3. The Craft - This. Movie. Yes, Act III is a major bummer even though I know it’s coming, and I’ll always wish it ended differently. Even so. This. Movie. I tend to headcanon mostly for shows and sometimes books, but The Craft is a beloved exception. I love so much about it: the magic, the music, the clothes, the settings, the dynamics within the friend group, the performances. I had no idea when I first got the DVD at 17 that it would become such a part of my life, but I’m so glad it found its way to me. 

4. Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion - The soundtrack is a glorious ’80s and ’90s treat for my ears. The colorful costumes are perfectly suited to the main characters’ version of the world. There are so many great lines and it feels like everyone is having a lot of fun in their roles. I LOVE HEATHER MOONEY SO MUCH. She’s my awful, scathingly sarcastic, little grungy grump and she fills my heart with joy. 

5. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King - I was pretty sure at least one of the three had to appear on here. I think, if I were to tally them all up, The Return of the King features most of my favorite moments, so it wins the spot. “I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you!”, ‘Edge of Night,’ Éowyn in battle, The Army of the Dead, ‘Into the West’... I end up crying during the end credits every time. So, yeah, ultimately, I would choose the third part of the trilogy if I could only watch one. 

Phew, that’s it! All the questions answered, all the shows and movies listed! Thank you to anyone who takes the time to read it all, and thanks again to @monaiargancoconutsoy for sending in the prompts! <3

[isei-silva]

The Last

Feralas.

The cave was dark and welcomed no one, but to Beurghes it was a second home. In fact he could argue he spent more time in this place of death and research than he did in his own home, and despite the eerie waft of the black nothingness in front of them he was at ease in his surroundings. He knew where to step, where to go, and there was much to do since their flight from Desolace. Much time had been lost.

Mel rolls his shoulders about, grumbling. "You sure you don't need another nap, Big Guy? Yer flying took it out of you just to get to Desolace."

Beurghes walks ahead in the cave, tall and stoic save for a slight limp he forces to hide. Illuminating the path ahead with a glow of green from his hand. There is urgency in his tone. "I slept enough. And fear more that if I fall alseep that deep again, I may not wake up. Let's get this done, so I have a certain peace of something accomplished."

The path elevated to the side and at the top opened up to a wide, open area that had been turned over the years from a pocket in the rocks to a study full of shelves, crates and vases, glass containers that peppered the place, chemical concoctions and the utilities thereof. Papers and books littered the place, piled together next to corners of bones and other discarded body parts in various stages of rot. The smell did not seem to perturb either much.

Mel nods, and stretches his arms out, fingers hooked as he cracks his digits. "I gotcha. But c'mon, you said you wanted the books set aside? All of 'em? And the equipment burned?" The Squid of an elf meanders to the bookcases, squinting.

[Beurghes]: “All of it.”

Meanwhile, outside the cave, a pair of shadows made themselves known stepping into the dim light of the thick forest. The blood elf Magister, Sortilar, and his bodyguard, Espoire, the terrible Nightborne.

"I believe this should be it," Sortilar gestures toward the cave. "All the signs match. Perhaps we'll find something of use for the work ahead of us. No time better than the present, after all."

Espoire glances at the multiple yetis wandering about, grimacing under his mask. "Seems about right. Let's hope the old bastard didn't leave a mess for us to look through."

[Sortilar]: "Oh, I presume there are traps and wards... Most likely still active. But you have your new venoms and I have recently been able to recharge, so... A few beasts and traps should not prove too much of an issue, now, should they?"

Espoire looks at him from the corner of his eye, and nods slightly. "Still, I'll go ahead. No need for you to risk it."

The Magister nods to Espoire. After all, that is a bodyguard's job. "Even with that thing of his being considered, deathsting venom should have some effect." 

Espoire disappears into the shadows without another word. 

Sortilar waits by the entrance, hands idle and folded behind his back as he waits for the signal to progress forward. 

Beurghes is near frantic but forces to breathe deep and maintain some semblance of dignity and control. Nothing was happening fast enough for his likes. Hands wildly gesture here and there at Mel. "The papers, book, and research to be set aside. Everything else, pile together!"  Then barks out "There should be oils, douse it all!”

“Gotcha, boss, " Mel salutes, and does as asked. All the books are pulled from the case, and set aside, the Void elf working quickly. He meanders about, snooping for the oils, all the misc equipment, like a snake in the grass, and with a loud...And that is a LOT of noise. Planters knocked over, delicate equipment broken to pieces...Mel's having a great time throwing everything into a heap!

Beurghes approaches, leaning heavily on a cane recently summoned and coiled by the very roots peeking through the walls of the cave. A weak spell for a druid, but a most welcomed respite from his own weight. "The bones and everything else, too."

Mel nods, nearly skipping about - His excitement is PALPABLE as he nearly dances and skips about the area. Books and written works are organized into one pile, and he makes a huge noise FLINGING equipment, bones, remains, morrowgrain, extracts, into a big awful pile. "Ha-HA! It's been a long time before I got to trash some place!" he cheers.

Suddenly Beurghes stops Mel from grabbing a choice selection of books and papers he had set aside on a crate that the void elf was going to just grab. The old druid hobbles forward, a hand out. "Give me those books. I know where to hide them, there's a deeper section, below.”  Beurghes snatches the books out of Mel's hand, giving them a quick look over at their written contents to ensure these were pieces worth hauling and hiding. He gestures to the rest of the unbecoming pile with a sharp flick of his hand. "Get -on- with it."

Once the books are in the Beurghes’ possession he starts to step back, aside. He pauses to look at the stone walls above and around them taking into consideration where the weakest points would be. "After, I'll cave it all in."

Mel grabs a particularly large pot of soil, and ssstttrrrruuuuuugles, managing to lift it over his head some, and CRASHING it into the pile! Mel cackles in delight and victory, kicking the pile and going to find more things.  "Okay yeah yeah yeah, I getcha. The books are in their own pile - lemme grab the oils." he grins, excitedly, his tendrils -bzzt-ing with electricity and excitement. He retrieves the oils, going right into dousing all the equipment and mess 

[Beurghes]: "Don't set them ablaze NOW, you git. Get the rest of the books and papers."

Espoire appear a few yards into the cave, gesturing for Sortilar to follow.

Sortilar doesn't notice for a moment, having occupied himself by retrieving the stiletto blade tucked into the sections of his false leg. Better than trying to use a staff in close quarters. He then notices Espoire beckoning, and moves forward. “Lovely decor," he says flatly, as they progress.

Espoire reappears before Sortilar, placing a hand out. He gestures slightly forward down the cave, noiselessly, with a nod of his head. The racket is echoing through the tunnel. There's someone else here.

The Magister frowns, nodding. He may be no rogue, but he's dealt with enough skullduggery to have some sense of what might be afoot. And then it's clear with the crashing noises. Yetis, perhaps? He waits for Espoire's instincts to guide the matter.

Espoire slinks back again, not stealthing this time. He beckons Sortilar to follow him, slowly and quietly. It sounds like its emanating from just above them.

Sortilar grimaces, moving slow so the metal of his leg doesn't give them away with a similar echo.

The Nightborne turns to Sortilar, and in roguespeak, signs one word: "Action? At this distance, the voices from above are quite discernable.

Sortilar considers for a moment, looking about their surroundings. It's a path up yet without much cover and Duskwhisper's instincts are good enough he will likely sense them if they simply go up it. He points toward one of the cages hanging from the ceiling. His hand swings down as a fist and then opens. It seems he's decided to make a distraction and flush them out. Perhaps even seperate them.

Espoire nods, assuming, as the long range DPS, that Sortilar will do the honors.

Another gesture from Sortilar, a finger walk then pointing forward, hoping Espoire will get the idea... An ambush. 

Above the pair Mel continues to work following Beurghes’ orders. "I getcha, books first." He hurms. The oil is on the stuff, and off he goes, bringing books to Beurghes so that the old man may sort them.

Beurghes only picks what he considers to be most important to be carried by his own person then leaves the rest for Mel to haul. "Can't you see I can barely support MYSELF?" he huffs. "Get the rest and follow me."

Espoire's already disappeared, beginning to walk towards the incline.

Sortilar steps back, counting... And then picks up one of the skulls. An enchantment to aid the impact and then he reels back, chucking it toward the ceiling and one of the cages. It might not fall, but it sure will make some noise. He then ducks down into his position of more cover, preparing if they are smart and decide to simply look over the edge.

Mel groans. "Yeah yeah, don't have a hissyfit, Farmboy. Just point out the ones that you wanna kee-" The noise RATTLES Mel, the void elf yelping like a little elflet, dropping the books down onto the floor, already crackling with electricity as he whips his head about, darting forwards

Beurghes doesn’t appear as startled and instead makes a foul noise, clicking his tongue. "Damnable beasts," he mutters, likely referring to the yeti that meander about.

Espoire takes the opportunity when Mel wanders near the edge of the elevated cavern, raising a booted foot and kicking the void-elf's rear, and off he tumbles from the edge.

Mel looks about, and looks up at the still swinging cage...then around at all the Yeti. Then down at the cracked and shattered bones. "...No, Beurghes, yeti's don't thro-" Too late, he looks behind him, and he spies the Scorpion, just as the boot kicks him RIGHT OFF. "COMPAN-" He squawks as he hits the ground, face first.

At this now Beurghes suddenly turns around to suddenly find Espoire dangerously close in front of the druid. "Scorpion."

Sortilar isn't expecting a moving target, so while he casts the dragon's breath spell he was holding -- flames roaring up past the edge -- Mel probably comes out of it singed, rather than with the melted off face that might have happened.

Espoire chuckles, giving a quick look around. “Evening, Duskwhisper. Quite the place you have here. Fitting, for a bachelor such as yourself."

Beurghes notices the sudden burst of flames and sounds none too amused. "There are OILS poured over the place," he warns to whomever else, but already he has an idea of the person.

Mel has been singed, his leathers smoking, the void elf leaping to his feet and shaking himself out, teeth bared. Well, the first strikes already been struck - Mel surveys around...and lands white eyes on the hiding Sortilar. "Ah, it's you." He growls, the sound unnatural

“Bloody --," Sortilar begins, but manages to collect himself, the years of military training showing as he pulls back down on the excess heat of the blaze he just conjured and wasted, and holds it at the ready for a more focused attack if Mel moves. "It's me," he retorts, voice sharp and eyes eerily bright.

"How unexpected." The old druid glances at the edge of the stone floor, where the fire had burst from and where he now had heard that voice. "...Both of you."

"Indeed, we thought you'd be dead by now,” Espoire nods.

A brief grin of a sneer from Beurghes. "Eager, aren't we."

Sortilar keeps his eyes locked on the ren'dorei, trusting Espoire to handle whatever is to happen on the level above. His job is keeping Duskwhisper's cavalry distracted.

Mel makes a face. He glances up, and calls. "Eh, sorry, Lord Farmboy, looks like you ain't getting yer suicide by sentinel. " he wiggles his arms out, Mel uncaring and relaxed as he makes lots and lots of sudden, uncaring movements in Sortilars line of sight, loosening himself up, but not moving yet.

[Beurghes]: "Tell -him- this isn't what we agreed upon."

[Mel]: "What he said, Magister."

"Shut up, squid boy," Espoire calls, to the ren'dorei, eyes fixed on Beurghes. "You were supposed to be long gone by now, weren't you?"

[Sortilar]: "Pity. Neither was him diced up into puree by a Sentinel. I need that body for study... So, it looks as if I have to seek to recover my losses."

The void elf slides his boots across the floor, back, and forth, back, and forth, fidgeting in weird ways, looking ready for a scrap, but...mostly just bluster for now, it seems.

Beurghes's eyes narrow, staring over the floor's edge. "Sortilar," he calls out for the Magister tensely.

And Sortilar continues to hold his ground in this standoff, not acting. At his age, he's wise enough to know that this pairing off is less advantageous for combat than the other might have been. He's not going to waste a readied spell until he's sure. "Yes, darling?" It seems as if he's in a more energetic mood than usual.

Espoire smirks.

[Beurghes]: "Ease. Both of you. You'd be daft to think I'd try anything fast in a cave of yeti; upset the beasts and they will rampage. And it is far too narrow in here to not expect collateral."

Mel doesn't act. Not yet. But, should Sortilar pay attention...Mel is crackling, tendrils twitching in the high temperature and high humidity of the cave. But he seems to act on Beurghes word alone, so...nothing. Not yet.

"That's what she said," Sortilar mutters under his breath, already tired of Beurghes' grandstanding. Until the ren'dorei has stood down, the spell remains charged and ready to go.

Beurghes speaks through clenched teeth. "AND, need I remind of the oils poured."

"It seems there's much for us to discuss, yes..." Espoire comments, casually clasping his hands behind his back. "Call of your dog, then, I've had my fun."

"Mel!" Beurghes calls out.

Mel's stone cold facade breaks, twisting up into a gremlin, tight smile, snrking. "Pfft, okay, really, whats the call, boss? He ain't standing down - i'd rather not be roasted, thank ya."

[Sortilar]: "I dare say some roast squid sounds lovely."

Mel grunts, and shuffles about, tense. "...Aight, standing down. Cover yer ears." HE states, simply, before turning his body away, and throwing his arm out quickly, deeper into the cave. C-CRACK of thunder bolts through the cave. A small one, but probably not something you'd want to be hit with. "Okay, there you go." he loosens up. For added measure, Mel plunks himself down on his ass, legs crossed, chin in hand. Hrmph

And Sortilar slams his left hand into the stone, the right being a ruse as the energy quickly transfers to his dominant hand and discharges against the stone wall, scorching it.

Beurghes hisses a tense, angry sound of frustation at all the needless noise in a face full of beastly yeti. For the love of...!

Mel was aiming away from people, for the record, but Mel won't cause a fuss over someone flexing.

Espoire silently resheathes the venom-coated throwing knife he'd withdrawn from his belt. His eyes stay trained on the druid in front of him. "So, planning on having a bonfire then? That seems out of season."

[Beurghes]: "Oh, spare me the theatrics, Scorpion, and ask what I'm doing like a sound man."

"What? It seemed like a safe option for something not doused in oil," Sortilar mutters, popping his fingers to work the tension out of them from holding a spell for so long.

Espoire blinks, and laughs, a rumbling noise that echoes lightly off the cavern walls. "Well, then! What are you doing, Duskwhisper?"

Mel sits, jutting his chin out. "Aight. That's fair, Magister. So, what, you dropping in to rummage about the place? Look for secrets? I dunno, have some romantic tete-a-tete bullshit?”

[Sortilar]: "Correct. Someone did not properly deliver his own corpse. So much for the "betterment of the elves". Ha."

[Mel]: "Well, I -asked- him if he wanted me to snap his neck, but he wanted to die by his peoples hands. Also, he's fun to pester."

[Espoire]: "So, I figured he threw a hissy fit about not flying about due to his heart threatening to sputter out and landed in a gulch somewhere."

Beurghes hmphs and attempts to hobble around Espoire. One hand firmly gripped on his cane, the other coiling the small stack of books and papers close to his chest. "I'll tell you when I'm done."

[Mel]: "Yeah, we took a break in Desolace, yer point?"

Espoire takes a step, firmly placing a palm around the druid’s arm, roughly. "Hah... no. No you will not. You will tell me, now. What are you doing with all your 'precious' research?"

[Sortilar]: "I told him not to fly at all, because high elevations might cause his cardiovascular system to no longer work due to the lack of ability to render oxygen properly."

[Mel]: "I hear you two up there, don't make me come up there, or make the old man make me come up there, i'll do it!" he threatens, hopping to his feet. The void elf pauses, and looks at Sortilar dumbly. “We were flyin' low, fer your information."

Beurghes looks down at the hand at his arm, then up at Espoire. Unnerved and annoyed at the same time. "Research? What makes you say that? I'm sentimental over my things,” he lies.

Sortilar grimaces. "He is only intaking about half of the oxygen he could, judging by the blood sample. So, even exerting himself could cause a fatal episode. Whether it by by flying or fucking, chances were good that he ignored his dear doctor's orders and keeled over somewhere."

[Espoire]: "I see, so that's why you were planning on caving this place in with all of it inside."

Mel honks. At that. And looks up, absolutely UNCARING that there's two other people in the room. "OI! FARM BOY. IS THIS WHY YOU TOLD ME NO? BECAUSE -ACTUALLY- SCREWING ME OVER WOULD GIVE YOU A HEART ATTACK?" he calls out, asking.

Beurghes stands as proudly as he could despite his more leaning on the cane for support. "Let me do this. It is one thing."

Sortilar knows exactly what he did, content to fold his arms back into the default military casting position at ease behind his back.

The old druid deadpans at, and pointedly ignores, Mel's outburst. He's not going to dignify that with an answer.

Espoire grimaces at Mel's yell, choosing to ignore it as well. "You promised to surrender yourself and research to the Magister for 'the betterment of the elves', remember? Or have you grown forgetful in your old age?"

[Sortilar]: "Oh, and the coin, for the girl to be nicely set up for some time."

Espoire nods in the general direction of the other two. "And that."

Beurghes attempts to jerk his arm from Espoire's hold. "Am I -dead- yet? The Magister can have my corpse, when it IS one."

"The plan was fer him to be killed, buried, and I'd drag his corpse to yall. Quit getting both of yer frilly panties in a knot, yeah?" the void elf grumbles, and utterly ignoring Sorts presence, Mel moving to head up the stuff.

[Sortilar]: "Oh, so THOUGHTFUL, Duskwhisper, sending a ren'dorei to my doorstep. Excellent planning."

Espoire's grip only tightens on Beurghes' arm.

“Boo, you whore.” Mel honks over his shoulder, lower lip jutted out. Mel directs that at Sortilar. Mel wanders right away from Sortilar, then peaks over the edge. "You coming, you bastard?"

[Beurghes]: "Sortilar, perhaps some things were lost in translation."

"Truly a machiavellian plot here. I'm simply astounded. But, you sound sentile, given you are calling me by my given name, rather than my familial name as you were INSTRUCTED." Sortilar grimaces, prowling now. He is keeping his eye on the ren'dorei, making sure he does not get a chance to interrupt Espoire.

"Your body..." Espoire finally replies, having waited for the Magister to join them, "is one thing. Your -research- however.... that's quite another."

Beurghes grimaces. "...Evensong," he corrects himself.

Mel glances over and squints, peering between Sortilar, and Espoire. He keeps his eyes on Sortilar, and...inches. Closer. To Espoire. Peering and investigating.

Sortilar decides to cut to the quick of it, to throw their enemies into disarray before they can regroup. "Yes, indeed... This is about... Morrowgrain."

[Beurghes]: "My research is incomplete. It would be of no use to you in its current state."

[Espoire]: "Don't think I don't see you, ren'dorei. So keen to save the poor girl this bastard kidnapped, and so quick to return to his side after your faux 'rescue' mission."

"...And what would a Magister of Silvermoon, and the Sc- And -Espoire-" Mel flaunts knowing the name of the Nightborne, "Would want with Morrowgrain." The elf pauses, looking at Espoire

Espoire turns to the ren'dorei, brow furrowing. "Well, that's none of your business, now is it?"

[Mel]: "Oh no, I made it clear to him, if he went after Ily, i'd snap his neck. Easily. Ily's right out of his hair. She's safe. Me, call me whatever, I pity the old guy."

[Sortilar]: "I'm just curious how he expects to go see Sentinels and be oh-so-tenderly dispatched by them after that."

[Mel]: “That and he's great company when he's not grand standing and not being a fucking prick."

"Mel," Beurghes warns softly through a growl without looking at him.

[Sortilar]: "I seem to, after all, remember a certain other druid... It did take me a bit, since it has been years and the actions of the Cenarion Circle have never been of much interest or import to the Reliquary. But banned research that people have died for? Oh, I'm sure the Grand Magister would be quite interested."

Mel glances at Beurghes. He grunts, and...shuts up. He unhooks his stein, and pops it open, slurping his ale. Mel squints at the mention of the Grand Magister, glaring at Sortilar from across the way.

[Beurghes]; "Leave it banned. It is research not even known yet aside from myself. It is intended to be kept away, for it is filthy, unclean, written literally in blood, and I rather it wait a thousand years under debris for maybe then the people might understand and better it."

[Sortilar]: "Oh, isn't it? I wonder why they locked Archdruid Staghelm in a barrow, then. Was that political posturing by Whisperwind to get to where she so precariously stands now?"

[Beurghes]: "Morrowgrain is indecipherable, Evensong."

"Oh, so, void magic is perfectly a bannable offense, but poisons that can assassinate political leaders is perfectly A-Okay, eh? No fuckin' wonder Sunflare was always bitchin' to me about you guys, yer all dicks." Mel grumbles into his mug, sipping.

"Well, yes. I would presume there to be ciphers and such. You'd not write of such a thing in your coffee table book. So, why bury it in a cave where some intrepid adventurer is sure to find it? The Reliquary's depositories are secure and catalogued. Down to the tiniest scrap of fossil.” Sortilar smiles, an expression that doesn't reach his fel green eyes in the least. "I mean... Look at your company. Do you trust a creature born of using Dar'khan Drathir's research to not come dig it up later to pass it to his friends? Or perhaps... Did you intend to kill him and make sure that didn't happen?"

Beurghes reacts at the last comment, a small almost unnoticeable twitch on his face.

Mel bristles at that. "You -wot-?" he asks, a rough, Corwins Crossing type accent bleeding through more than usual, tendrils curling up at the mention of removing him.

Sortilar merely smirks.

Mel turns his eyes at Beurghes, intending to speak, then looking back around, the void elf incredulous. "Oi, fer the record, Lord Farmboy, I don't suggest giving this shit to the Horde either. Hello? Poison that can be fed to people? Potent, no signs of it killing someone till it does?"

[Beurghes]: "Let it be hidden, Evensong."

[Sortilar]: "Why would it be of interest in that regard, given plagues and the manabombs Duskwhisper was so sure to remind me of? The Banshee enjoys wholescale slaughter. Our Regent Lord, on the other hand..."

Beurghes hisses at Mel. "It is supposed to be a -remedy-."

"I bet the Banshee Queen would love the -shit- out of that. Like she had a grand old time twisting the Reagent Lord's arm fer troops and manpower." Mel scowls. He looks back to Beurghes. "That's exactly the point - yer looking into it as medicine, but, the Queen, the Magisters, they won't care. They'll use it as a weapon and not give two shits fer yer intended use of it, yeah?"

"And it has worked so well for her thus far, now hasn't it?" Sortilar merely regards Beurghes. "Unless what you are attempting to say here is you would like our aid removing this ren'dorei from the equation."

Espoire stands silently, stoically. He keeps one firm grip on Beurghes' arm, the other hanging loosely at his side, ready to act should he need to.

[Beurghes]: "I can't decipher it as a medicine. I do not have the knowledge, nor the time."

[Sortilar]: "Unsurprising. You lack the network of resources needed, especially given the stigma associated with the research. A pity."

[Beurghes]: "Your people could hardly do any better! None of us have the current knowledge or means to manipulate this herb, its nature is too strong."

[Sortilar]: "You were, at least, correct in that... I do appreciate knowledge. A waste, but there is the problem as stated: you keep company with a creature malformed by the magics of a betrayer, one who brought the Scourge upon my people. And rather than disappear, they decided to come try and take our Sunwell for the void."

[Beurghes]: “Mel is a betrayer to you, not to me."

[Sortilar]: "...So why would he not? He already did."

"...Jokes on you." Mel eases up.

[Sortilar]: "He was born of betrayal, betrayed you in Elwynn, and will assuredly do it again after your death should it get him some coin."

"I actually already told him." Mel winks, and sticks his tongue out. PTHTBBTHH

"Elwynn?" At this Beurghes narrows his eyes at Mel. This was new to hear.

[Espoire]: “Yes, so that's twice you've betrayed, isn't it, ren'dorei?"

[Sortilar]: “He was quite happy to sell you out."

[Mel]: "Nothing I haven't already told ya half way, boss. They wanted us outta the way, so, clean shot at you. I just actually wasn't expecting 'em to be so quick. but...fuck, whatever."

[Beurghes]: "And -this- is their clean shot?"

[Sortilar]: "Yes, since unlike some of our current company, the girl has not done anything wrong. You, I could care less for."

[Mel]: “Yeah, hell if I know. And that's true. If you do anything to her, I can and will snap yer necks. Leave er out of it. She's out of it. She ain't got anything to do with -any- of this anymore."

"As I stated previously," and Espoire turns to look at Mel with his cold, glowing blue eyes. "You were not supposed to be here, ren'dorei. We offer you your life and yet you're so quick to give it for a thankless old murderer."

[Sortilar]: "As I told them, a clean shot was needed since the progression of your disease will quite literally possibly overtake you like rabies. Thus, they were warned to remove themselves from your presence, before the affliction could infect them or cause you to do so."

Mel makes a face, baring his teeth. "Well, shame on me fer feeling pity for an old bastard and at least letting him commit suicide."

Sortilar regards Beurghes solidly. "I believe you already stated your desire to do so to me and I expressed no complaint. Hopefully, this behavior of his proves why I believe it is not safe for him to know where it is."

Mel scowls.

[Beurghes]: "What would -you- do with it, then?"

[Sortilar]: "Honestly, I do not much care. Burn the books here, as long as a betrayer like this can't profiteer off of it."

Espoire frowns under his mask, but says nothing.

[Sortilar]: "If your corpse is delivered in one piece in a way that will not incriminate me using this... Thing. I am patiently unbothered. Burn it, Espoire can slice your gut open, and we all go home happy."

Beurghes yanks his gripped arm again. "Let me -bury- it. Burn the rest, but bury the research."

[Sortilar]: "Duskwhisper... That is not viable, and I believe you know as much. At best it will indeed be used as a tool for murder. Scrape as you may to try and leave a mark, be it by research or a footnote in a book of illustrations of your dissected form..."

Mel just bristles, baring teeth at the further jabbing, but saying nothing. His tendrils curl.

[Beurghes]: "What do you want  in return for the research to be saved, intact?"

[Sortilar]: "Because it would be wasted knowledge, just like my medical arts in this age of healing spellery. But again, I am not particularly invested. I believe, however, I have been more candid than others here."

[Mel]"I am what I am. Maybe i'm an uncaring jerk who doesn't care fer keeping secrets from old men who're ready to die, yeah?"

"I came for my promised payment. As long as it is going to be delivered in a way that does not involve this creature, you can do whatever you like. But I do believe it foolish to leave it in a cave where this thing knows where it is. Especially given how quick it turned on you and then back when it was profitable to do so." Sortilar by this point seems almost amused. "It's laughable... Did he actually think he stood a chance with you sexually, even hale in your best of days?"

"Then you take it. You mentioned the Reliquary, no? His people can't return to Silvermoon. And it may be wasted knowledge to you, but to someone else, maybe soon, maybe-- " A sudden burst of a cough interrupted Beurghes’ words, hoarse and heaving, dropping the books to clutch at his chest as the outburst passed and his breathing returned. Albeit more ragged now.

"Fuck you." Mel states, "I still got old lists about Magisters and nobility. You still got family, I don't hold grudges but i've got half a mind to act on this if you keep pressing me."

[Sortilar]: "And, as you can see, once he is at risk of not being able to pick clean your corpse... He threatens my child."

Mel jolts, and his spite is traded out with concern, the elves wrigglers curling tightly as he takes a stance to inspect Beurghes though keeping his attention on the Magister. "Again, fuck you, that threat was fer making one of my funny outbursts an insult. Not cool."

Beurghes forces himself to stand as proud as he could muster, a quick movement of hand his thumb wiping away blood at the corner of his lip.

[Sortilar]: "So, Duskwhisper... What will it be? An eager murderer of family for no other reason than his wounded pride... Or, as you have stated, a magister who has offered you out the end you wanted and a means to make sure this book is never seen again?"

Espoire releases Beurghes' arm after the coughing fit, not seeing the need to detain him any longer.

Sortilar waits patiently, unmoving. As he expected, the time has come, if it hasn't already passed and merely been forestalled with force of will alone.

Beurghes gives a final jerk of his now freed arm just for the point of it. Hmph! "You know your answer."

Mel juts his chin out, eyes squinted, tendrils curling tightly up, long ears vibrating with irritated anger. He looks back to Beurghes, then back. "He ain't calling the order fer you two to kill me." he states.

[Sortilar]: "And how would it please you for it to be dealt with, Duskwhisper?"

Espoire walks around to the far side of Beurghes, smiling and holding out an expectant palm.

[Mel]: "I am not an -it-."

[Sortilar]: "Yes, you are. You can go skulking off now you do not have a dying old man to use. But I will make one thing painfully clear..."

Beurghes grimaces a soundless snarl and reluctantly hands over the books to Espoire.

Sortilar smiles, the look slipping to clearly murderous. "If you so much as breathe in my daughter's direction, the Scorpion and I will play volleyball with your empty little skull. Are we quite crystalline clear?"

Espoire takes them, giving a half nod, half bow in thanks. 

Mel glances to Beurghes. He's not pissed at that, flicking a long ear, and looks over to Sortilar. "Then maybe you shouldn't be a fucking prick about shit, eh? But yeah, don't have a fucking hissy fit, I'm not gonna go screwing around with family." he waves a hand, dismissively.

"No, I do TRULY believe you misunderstand," Sortilar states, upper lip curling in disgust as he pulls the stiletto from his belt.

"And what the hell do you think's gonna happen, anyways. I ain't skulking off, because I never gave much a shit about the research to begin with." Mel looks to Beurghes.

[Sortilar]: "I should kill you where you stand for even mentioning it. And nothing in this planet, beyond, or above, will stop me. I will hunt you down, splatter your pathetic little corpse in a path long enough that the carrion birds will not be able to fly from one end to another. Are. We. Clear?"

Mel lifts his chin up, baring fangs. "Crystal clear, assmunch. Now how about you, and that knife, keep away from me." he growls, evening his head out - Mel was a stony facade, body language easy and loose...but his tendrils betray his motions - he's nervous, VERY nervous about that sharp object.

[Sortilar]: "Then do take a couple of steps back and another short fall before I get quite stabby and put more holes in you than you can moan about."

"Speaking of." And with a quick movement, Espoire kicks the cane out of Beurghes' grasp, taking a fistful of his hair and pulling him forcefully to the ground.

Beurghes had been leaning most of his weight on the cane, so having it kicked out from his grasp forced his knees to the floor almost falling over were it not for the grip on his hair which the sudden yank thereof broke a loud, pained sound out of him.

"Scorpion," he says, voice sharp and authoritative. "We will deal with Duskwhisper later. Help the man up and apologize." 

Mel narrows his eyes, and glances over to the downed Beurghes, bristling, and raising his hackles, Mel like a dog ready to strike - in fact, he almost does, lunging and stepping right to Beurghes side to bare fangs up at Espoire. A hilarious sentiment since Mel is so, so much smaller than the Scorpion.

[Sortilar]: "Bloody hell, we are not ani -- and you, BACK."

Espoire looks up, surprised. "I thought we'd be making this quick. A quick slit of his throat and the problem would be done with."

[Sortilar]: "We will ask him how he wants to go, once this other problem is addressed."

Mel stares at Sortilar. "Careful, you stick a knife in me here, dunno if i'd taint the sample'r not." he bites out, and...differs to Beurghes, and POINTEDLY is the guy helping Beurghes back up, differing to the old man.

Sortilar grimaces at Espoire in annoyance, obviously displeased at the interruption.

Espoire scoffs, releasing the old man's hair, allowing Mel to help him up.

[Sortilar]: "If I simply wanted him dead, I could have stabbed him with a poisoned needle at the well."

The druid's hair is released and with that is able to be helped back up again, now leaning more on Mel to act as the cane lost somewhere on the ground.

Mel...looks about, now completely uncaring of the Magister and Scorpion, scouting about for the kicked out cane.

Espoire looks up at Sortilar, uneasy. He doesn't like the idea of keeping a target alive for more time than necessary. There's a reason he made a good Assassin. 

"Sounds like yer the one with a dog that doesn't listen. I may have been screwing Sunflare, but I never fucking acted unless he actually told me to." Mel raises a brow. "Because, you know, I respected him enough to not make a huge fuckin' fuss." he grumbles, differring to Beurghes. "Oi, gimme a sec." Mel moves off, grabs the cane that had been kicked from afar, and returns it.

Sortilar continues staring Espoire down, looking as if that blade might get turned on the nightborne instead.

Espoire actually rolls his eyes at that. "Oh, please, now the squid is lecturing me."

[Sortilar]: "Stop acting like a damn idiot. You will be dealt with later."

Espoire regards Sortilar with those same cold blue eyes, unreadable. "... very well." He turns to Beurghes, and begrudgingly nod/bows again. "My apologies."

Beurghes accepts the returned cane, easing into it as he had been before with what pride he still had after being kicked and manhandled like that.

Sortilar is all but twinging with fury at this point, between Opheria being threatened and now this. If looks could kill, the one on his face would be close to it.

"Well then, Magister," Espoire matches that look, unmoving. "What are your orders?"

"...Ooohhhhhhh, so -that's- what's up." Mel hurms, passing the cane to Beurghes. "Sounds like an issue of power - must be something less than professional. Big guy thinks he can get away acting in the name of a guy who ranks higher than him." he shakes his head, and waves a hand, making s show of dropping it, and also differs to Beurghes. "Just say the word, Lord. Make the decision yerself."

Sortilar simply pinches the bridge of his nose, silently amazed that by some freak circumstance, Beurghes is actually the one annoying him the LEAST currently.

[Beurghes]: "There is no answer I can give you, Evensong, that will change that inevitability that you will do what you already set out to do. You know of my person, my works, and my places. I have no further leverages to wedge."

[Sortilar]: "I am not particularly concerned with leverage, as I have stated before when faced with your analysis. Nor am I particularly in the business of delighting in misery as you once claimed, either. I do not take delight in the idea of slaughtering you like livestock. So."

[Beurghes]: “So what NOW."

[Sortilar]: "As I said, if I wanted you dead, you would be dead. That is simply the facts of the situation. As I asked before this battle of wits that unfolded about us...State how and when. I am not sentimental. If you want it to be now, before the pain progresses and you lose your sense of self, Scorpion will handle it eagerly, as he has proven. He even has a new venom or two for the task."

Mel folds his arms, looking up at Beurghes.

[Sortilar]: "Similarly, you can find a particularly pleasing bed and another batch of women. Or, finish up some business and choose then to die of an injection."

"Neither of us know what will happen once I breathe my last," the old druid starts, a hand to his heart. "I am not -supposed- to be, so there is no reference. Nothing could happen, I die and I'm another corpse. Alternatively, I die and the organic arcane, now without restraint, begins to break down my body far too fast."

[Sortilar]: “Yes. I have measures prepared for that circumstance, as my companion can attest to."

Both of Beurghes’ hands clasps over the top of his cane. "Would they work?"

Sortilar looks aside. "Did you even tell them properly, how far gone you are? I am surprised a mercy killing has not already happened, honestly... You must at this point be having your lungs already crystallize. But yes, the coffin would to the job plenty well. I use it for preservation of corpses I am analyzing regularly. It is a variant of Consortium stasis chambers and quite stable."

[Beurghes]: "Holding up my own body is a strain. I flew my last flight. I have stopped being able to keep food down over a week. I feel my heart beating much too hard, as though in a vice that tightens by the day."

[Sortilar]: "Hopefully now my reasoning for seeing collection of your corpse as a lost effort is apparent. Even if we had found you, it would take a pickaxe, not a scalpel."

Mel looks up at Beurghes, lips pressed together.

[Sortilar]: “You are correct in speculating without the energy of your continued life in the flesh, it could indeed rapidly crystalize. The death of your nervous system in the extremities should have hinted as much long ago."

Beurghes looks down at his hands. Behind the leather and roots, one hand feels far too stiff and almost already lifeless. That he could move his hand and arm at all was due to the ten thousand years of practice and muscle memory at this point.

[Sortilar]: "But, even murderers are offered a last supper. So, what do you select as yours? Because, Belore above... Yes, it would be easier to simply slaughter you here and be done with it, but it would traumatize that girl all the further."

The old druid scoffs at the mention of Ilyssae, still not looking up. "Why would it?"

[Sortilar]: "Because I am sure it will be related to her in lurid detail, and most likely she would also not delight in a slaughter no matter the horrible things you have assuredly done to her. I have a daughter myself, not much older, I imagine. Of course, I might be wrong. She might simply be infuriated to not turn you into a blood sieve herself. I simply speculate due to the reluctance she has previously expressed."

Mel makes a face up at Beurghes. "...Oi, Duskwhisper. You sending me off?" he asks, casual but with a certain undertone of something sad in his voice.

Beurghes does not look to Mel. "...Take care of Ilyssae."

Mel peers up at Beurghes. "...Gotcha." he states, simply, and settles for a pat on Beurghes back. Gently. "Die well, big guy." he states, casual, and eases away, making sure Burger still has his cane so he can at least stand tall.

Beurghes rolls his shoulders back, straightening up more. "I don't want to say anything, concerned they'll be my last."

Sortilar waits through these assuredly heartfelt goodbyes or... Whatever they are. At least he has enough dignity not to rush it along at this point, even if he doesn't particularly see the point. "So... What will it be then, Duskwhisper? The blade, the needle?"

Mel opts to sit and watch by a stalactite

Beurghes says nothing but nods respectfully. Espoire was the expert, after all.

[Sortilar]: "Then, set to it, Scorpion. I apologize for interrupting your earlier work."

Espoire has been standing silently, patiently. He looks at Beurghes, perhaps a bit surprised. He does not complain, however, drawing a blade from his hip. "No preference, then? Standing, sitting, on your knees...?"

The cane is tapped hard once against the floor, both druid’s hands firmly set on top. "Standing."

Sortilar looks aside, unable to help but be a bit grimly amused... If standing was the choice, he might just barely be able to reach the throat to try and make it quick. But a good, clean cut... Indeed, that's best left to Espoire.

Mel watches, calmly, arms folded, a witness to witness the affair. Lips pressed together, tendrils curled. Again, stony face, but the tendrils betray him.

Espoire nods, taking a few steps and takes position behind Beurghes, flipping the blade in his hand. "Very well. Walk in starlight, Duskwhisper, may you be given mercy in your next life." He reaches up, wrapping an arm around Beurghes's neck and pressing the blade into his throat... One quick movement. And it's done, blood pouring from the slice, staining the druid's dark skin crimson.

The cane drops out of his hand, hitting the stone floor with an audible, dry sound as instinct forced his hands to the cold of the knife across his throat and the heat of the blood pouring from it. It was not an elegant affair, the gurgling of choked blood blending with heaving gasps of breath that could no longer catch air. Eyes widen and narrow, unsure of how to feel, what to look for. It wasn't long before the old druid fell to his knees blood seeping from between the cracks of his fingers and the edges of his lips. Normally one would keel over as the body limped, but in Beurghes' case, with the rush of arcane no longer under control in his body, it cracked from his skin in long lines like an overflowing pot more crystal than organic convulsing the body that slowed to stillness.  

"...We need to get moving," Sortilar says, voice flat. He turns about, expression flat and business like, not betraying anything. His hands move to begin casting one of his temporal locks, hopefully enough to keep it at bay until the body can be moved to Silvermoon.

Espoire nods, impassive. "What do you need from me?"

Mel, uncaring that he was now 1 v 2, heads to the Oil covered equipment. And goes to snoop about for...something.

Suddenly a burst of arcane glass tore and breached at the weakest points of his body, eyes and mouth, joints and chest, the sounds of popping and cracking a sickening symphony that jerked the body around until all reactions ceased, and with it movement. A cloudy mist of blue seeped from the cracks in his body and dissipated into the air fading into nothing.

Espoire steps backwards, shielding his eyes from the burst. "Shit--"

"Just carry him. With some dignity, please. Whatever he ha --" Sortilar breaks off, cursing in Thalassian as the spell doesn't take, or else is unable to stop the sudden progression.

Mel flicks his fingers - and provides the electric spark that sets the equipment and morrowgrain ablaze. He turns about, pulling out his stein...and wanders over. Unceremoniously, he pours it out on top of the crystalline corpse...and then turns to go back to making sure the fire burns.

Sortilar lowers his hands, considering the situation. After a moment, he moves closer, hovering his hands near the structure but not touching it directly. "...Am I the only one here who wanted to give him at least SOME dignity?"

"It's what he woulda wanted." Mel lies, boldfaced.

Sortilar sighs, seeming revolted.

Espoire says nothing, looking from the crystallized corpse to Sortilar.

"I will open a portal back to Silvermoon City. It may be best to have my animus golem handle the transport." It seems the old Magister is wise enough to venture a guess that either of them coming into direct contact with something so infused with arcane is a recipe for disaster. Instead, he turns about and begins weaving to form the portal.

@hollowlaughter @jollyparaphernalia @space-chaser

[dreamttempest]

Break Reason: Prologue

What's past is prologue. -- William Shakespeare

BREAK REASON

Life taught me countless lessons. It shaped who I was, who I am, and who I will be. I can name most of my lessons off the top of my head; however, one stands out above all the others.

All men are created evil.

When I was four years old, I learned that everyone alive is inherently selfish and evil, myself included. I guess that's why I didn't fight back that hard. Why bother? They're evil. I'm evil. I was just getting what I deserved. I killed my father after all, and what could atone for that? In the mind of a child, I saw myself guilty of an ultimate evil, so I simply looked forward to the day I die... The day I won't hurt anyone ever again.

However, that all changed when I met him, my hero and redeemer. They all think he saved me from torture, captivity, and revolting evil. They couldn't be more wrong. Shota Aizawa saved me from myself. He was the first of many.

BREAK REASON

Shota Aizawa didn't believe in fate, and he would say the same if asked. Fate exists as something inherently illogical. To assume that things are meant to happen in a certain way seemed too easy. Admitting that fate exists meant he'd resign himself to the world's inclinations, and Aizawa had no intention of doing that. If he saw someone in trouble, he'd help instead of resigning it to fate. It's why he became a hero in the first place. Despite his melancholy exterior, the young man ranked helping others as his second favorite thing in life. His cats remained firmly entrenched in first place.

Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose. If he believed in fate, maybe he'd just go along with Midnight's forced job proposal. Instead of fighting criminals himself, he could train the next group of heroes at Japan's top hero academy. Of course, the help wouldn't be as direct and meant he'd be paid less, but selfishness was also illogical.

For some unexplainable reason, Midnight revealed to him that the high school U.A., hired her. While he has no idea why that principal decided to put the 18+ Only Hero: Midnight in a classroom full of impressionable youth, he even has less of a clue why she thought he'd make a good teacher. Why she recommended him anyway confounded the man.

Shota Aizawa was a few things. First, he fought for justice as Eraser Head, an underground hero. While most craved the spotlight, he preferred to work in the shadows. A less well-known face made life easier and more effective. While U.A. has a reputation for keeping the students and faculty's privacy, he still would be forced into the spotlight. Plus, none of the students will recognize him, unlike the other famous heroes employed there, meaning they may not like him. While Aizawa doesn't care about likability, he knows teachers need stable relationships with their students to be efficient.

Second, Aizawa had the personality of a soggy sponge. He didn't smile. He spoke in a constant deadpan. He guided his life using logic instead of other, unreliable methods. He also placed high expectation on other heroes, but he found that logical. He placed the highest expectations on himself, pushing his body hard enough that he slept at any opportunity. Criminals committed the most and worst crimes at night, and most heroes operated by day. With light came higher visibility, so people saw their exploits which generated more money, popularity, and other frivolous things.

The man nodded at himself, deciding he shouldn't be a teacher for U.A., at least not yet. Even though his almost perfect record as a hero would make him a prime candidate, other men and women could fulfill that role more effectively. Eraser Head operates best as an underground hero, one who mostly ambushes villains.

In fact, he now waited in an alley for that very reason. A certain drug named Trigger killed of dozens over the past month. It boosted a Quirk's power significantly for a few minutes, making a villain a supervillain during that time. Three heroes had died fighting boosted villains, and the drug proved to be addictive. He concluded that this specific alley was used for dealings. Like a disease, Aizawa wanted to attack the cause rather than the symptoms; therefore, he will apprehend the dealer.

He sat perched on a building's flat roof, occasionally checking for activity. Jumping down won't be a problem, and attacking from above was his favored option. Maybe he will wait for a few more minutes, maybe a few more days. It won't matter if the results make the world safer. Another dealer will replace the captured one, but the drug won't be available in this region for at least a week. All he must do is wait for two people to arrive and make the deal.

He heard two pairs of footsteps, but he detected something off. While one sounded normal, if a little rushed, the other sounded too light. The irregular running pattern of the latter suggested this person approached total exhaustion. In addition, the hour just passed three in the morning. The hero concluded that he most likely heard a child running away from something, probably the other set of footsteps. He knew the probability of a pursuit crossing paths with him had little chance, yet the situation happened. Logic dictates that even the near impossible can be possible if given enough time.

No, this had nothing to do with fate at all.

From the left side of the alley, a figure dashed from the shadows. While the details were obscured by the night, he noticed the individual was a child's height and her frantic running suggested she was pursued. He assumed the child was female due to her longer hair.

A few seconds later, a man emerged from the shadows wearing a mask akin to a bird's beak. Aizawa recognized it as a Yakuza gang symbol, an illogical marker. While the gang had been in decline for decades, that mask meant this person had membership in a criminal organization. In other words, he could punch first and ask questions later.

"Stop running." The young man's voice came out more as a growl, but the Yakuza member spoke loudly enough for Aizawa to hear.

The girl tripped and fell onto the dirty ground. Her dress seemed old and tattered. Perhaps she was a runaway? The bandages covering her arms and legs indicated past abuse. She curled into a ball and cried, her sobbing reaching Aizawa. The stoic man had witnessed innumerable horrors during his lifetime, so it took a great deal to make his blood boil.

His blood boiled.

It was a logical reaction for humans to protect the young.

He leapt from the roof towards the Yakuza member. The man slowed down his pace, so judging his trajectory was easy. Eraser Head swooped through the air without a sound, his black and grey clothing camouflaging him in the darkness.

The villain noticed him anyway. The enemy raised his hand to touch the plummeting hero. Not knowing the man's quirk, he assumed it had something to do with physical contact, so Aizawa did the most logical thing possible. He stared at the man and did nothing to stop that hand.

The enemy's hand touched his leg.

The girl gasped as Eraser Head's heel drove itself into the man's left shoulder. The risk of kicking his head in hopes for a knockout remained too high, but crippling an arm held high chances. The villain's eyes opened wide, not in pain but surprise. The hero's assumption about the hand were proven correct.

Shota operated underground since his Quirk worked with the element of surprise. By looking at anyone, he erased their quirk, the only caveat being they regain their power every time he blinks. That was also why he wore goggles. Dry eye proved to be a problem.

By using the villain's shoulder to take the brunt of the impact, Eraser Head landed on the ground without injury. On one side of him, he faced the Yakuza member; on the other side, the girl cried. This position provided the highest chance of protecting the civilian from further harm.

"Damn you!" In total ignorance of his pain, his dislocated shoulder and a broken collar bone, the man used his left hand to slap the ground. Since Aizawa had yet to blink and the man hadn't realized his Quirk still couldn't function, the hand slap did nothing. The villain thus vulgarly cursed with enough volume for the girl to hear.

The villain screamed in agony when Eraser Head stomped on his hand and shattered bone. Before he could wrap the villain with his capturing weapon, the hero heard the girl running away again. He didn't blame her. The body contains the fight or flight mindset, and a child's best hope resided in flight. Nevertheless, this posed a new dilemma. The girl could hypothetically slip away. Considering the bandages, she could need immediate medical attention. On the other hand, the villain would escape if he chased after the girl. After working as a hero long enough, Aizawa found that villains always escaped if left alone. Knocked out, dismembered, or handcuffed. It didn't matter. Somehow, they escaped.

Considering he incapacitated this villain almost effortlessly and the girl could be in life-threatening danger, Eraser Head made the choice without a second thought.

"I'm Overhaul! You'll regre-" Before the villain could monologue about getting revenge, he delivered a kick to the head, and the villain's unconscious body crumpled to the ground. It also let Aizawa blink. He turned around and ran down the alley, searching for the girl.

He heard a shriek quickly followed by the words "murder" and "villain". Eraser Head sprinted, something he almost never had to do. His mind concluded that the villain named Overhaul wasn't the only Yakuza in the area, and the other member found that girl in public. All heroes failed, including Eraser Head. He failed to save forty-two people during his career, and he memorized all their names. Because of his shortcomings, the youngest civilian died only four days after his fifteenth birthday. This girl wasn't older than eight.

Aizawa rushed out of the ally and saw a sobbing old man clutching a purse. Another onlooker stood frozen in terror. A woman leaned out her apartment window and continued to yell about a villain and murder. She pointed at a park, a common spot for delinquents and the reason drug dealings happened in an ally close by. A final pedestrian leaned out another window with a phone pressed to his ear, most likely calling the police. An anti-Quirk strike force should arrive within twenty minutes. A few police officers will be on the scene in minutes at most.

The hero has no time for waiting. He chased after the killer. While the old man seemed distraught, Eraser Head couldn't comfort. He fought.

The girl was still nowhere to be found.

The park was the size of a block, an idea by some well-intentioned designer. Why not give children a place to play? Unfortunately, they put the park in the slums, and the countless bushes attracted the attention of the wrong crowd. It also had a few large trees, one of which vanished instantaneously. The hero hypothesized the old man clutched the purse of his deceased wife, who disappeared in the same way as the tree.

Aizawa rushed forward. This villain had an abnormally lethal Quirk, one which apparently disintegrated objects. Those were the type of Quirks which led to mass killings and the deaths of heroes. Eraser Head and his Erasing Quirk were probably one of the few counters to this villain's Quirk.

Again, fate had nothing to do with this, just coincidence.

When he heard a child scream, he recognized the voice. It sounded like the little girl from before, but there was one difference. This time, the screaming had no semblance of sanity. It sounded as if her body sucked in all possible air before pushing it out with the sole purpose of making a bloodcurdling wail.

He followed the sound of that voice to save her from the villain, but he stopped in his tracks. Taking deep breaths, he stood in front of the girl, and they were alone. There was no other villain.

In the pale moonlight, her hair seemed like a mixture between blue and white. Her eyes were a piercing crimson. Her arms and legs not wrapped in bandages carried scars, mostly from needles. On the right side of her forehead, a horn protruded from her flesh. Her white dress had strains from filth and blood. She clutched her legs in the fetal position and screamed after every breath. By chance, her hand grazed against the bush, and it vanished in the same moment.

Eraser Head reclassified the situation. Only one villain, Overhaul, chased after the girl. She was the one who killed, most likely an old lady. Old ladies take pity on small children, and this child seems to destroy with a touch.

This little girl has an uncontrollable Quirk. Since unauthorized public use of Quirks remained illegal, the anti-Quirk task forces arrested countless children every year. While authorities wanted to rehabilitate those users and give them control over their powers, this girl killed someone. She will be incarcerated. Death sentences normally were not given to minors.

She noticed Aizawa standing over her. She looked terrified at the sight. While his stern demeanor scared children, this girl seemed for terrified for him rather than of him.

"S-Stay away!" she pleaded. "I'll kill you too!"

He decided to classify the girl as a victim rather than a villain. The zero-tolerance policy of the government was illogical. The child held no intent to harm others; therefore, he activated his Quirk. The girl gasped, and her horn shrunk to the size of a stub.

He knelt in front of her. "Until I blink, you have no Quirk."

She shook her head. "You'll die! I didn't wanna make the lady disappear, and she was so nice! I..." She squeezed her legs and whispered, "Why can't I make myself disappear? I've tried so many times but can't."

He held her small, cold hands in his, and she quivered in fear. "I don't fear you." He said those words without passion or embellishment. It was akin to mentioning the weather or accounting how many bills he must pay this week, since he viewed it that way. For the moment, she could not harm him, so he would not fear her. He held the hands of a little girl, and little girls did not scare the man.

"W-Who are you?" Her eyes lit up, like dumping gasoline on a smoldering fire. Somehow, he awoke something in the girl that she hadn't experienced in years. Hope. "I... I'm Eri."

The telltale ring of sirens approached from the north and the east. They came to arrest an uncontrollable Quirk user and a murderer. The law doesn't care if the death resulted from an accident.

Aizawa blinked to test a theory. Since he finished blinking instead of disappearing, he proved himself correct. The girl's powers became more powerful, more uncontrollable, or both due to heightened negative emotions. In other words, she held a defense mechanism. Fight or flight, one that all humans held.

To answer her question, he took off his goggles. "I'm Eraser Head."

She titled her head to the right. "Is that a real name?"

How isolated did the Yakuza keep this girl? "That's my hero name." One of the police cars stopped. He had little time left to save this victim. "I'll protect you. Hold on." He scooped her up in his arms. She felt too light for someone her size, but he ensured he didn't grab any of her bandages.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed silently. Her tears soaked his scarf, but worrying about something like that seemed illogical. He dashed out of the park and into the shadows, detected by no one. While even the police knew little about him, his reputation for slinking away spread to most cities. The police will assume he captured the criminal, and the officers will go about their merry lives.

This girl needed medical attention, but he also wanted this girl... Eri... to be hidden from the public eye. He had a nagging feeling her parents were either dead or didn't care. It just happened that this city had a hero who ranked among the best healers in the world. That healer also happened to work at a school which trained students to use their Quirks safely. After all, U.A. wouldn't exist if its heroes couldn't control themselves. Lastly, it was just a coincidence that Midnight recently recommended him to the principal.

Fate had nothing to do with this.

"Where are we going?" Her voice came out as a whisper. Her arms squeezed tighter around his neck; however, her Quirk had yet to do anything. She felt no danger, thus she held no danger

"Somewhere safe." He carried her all the way to U.A. Even then, she refused to let go of the hero, the only person in her short life that ever showed her kindness. Not once did he consider the irony of the situation.

Shota Aizawa didn't believe in fate, but fate believed in Shota Aizawa.

[savinscripts]

❝ To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable. ❞

The cream-colored dress flowed gently around Faye’s ankles, silent and soft as she walked the now familiar path to Fane’s quarters in the heart of the Resistance’s base. Most of the living spaces had been placed towards the,interior of the mountain for safety purposes. Fane’s was no different.,Neither was Faye’s. And while they were nothing extremely decadent or,overly large, they were enough for the people that lived, worked, and,trained here to have a place to call their own. A small piece of quiet,privacy in a loud and boisterous existence.

Tonight, Fane was cooking her dinner. They’d eaten together on a fairly regular basis over the last few months, trading off here and there, and sometimes eating in the mess hall, or even taking their food outside. Since they’d shared a kiss that one evening under the forest canopy, and again a few days later, and again the week after that, they had come to the mutual agreement that such a thing was alright between them. Nothing had become awkward, or even really changed, except they, well… they kissed.

Kissing had led to other things: more confidant and curious touches, kisses in more places, Faye sitting across Fane’s lap as they explored each other, or him leaning over her as she lay on her back. All coming in their own time. But they had yet to cross that last threshold. To shed clothes and push past the last barrier of intimacy that they both wanted - a body didn’t lie, after all - but neither was brave enough to approach.

Until one evening, something had just… shifted. And Faye knew it was alright now. Alright to ask, “Do you want me?” Her fingers had traced his face, pushed his hair back out of his face, threaded through it. “Because I want you,” she told him honestly. “We could… if you like?” It was a question left up to him to answer. Because Faye knew that finally, after three years, she was ready to be with someone again. But there was only one person on her mind. Only one person that was ever on her mind: Fane.

There was no need to spell out what she meant. She just looked at him, the soft smile that was for him alone playing at the corner of her mouth. And when he’d agreed, a bit nervously - but honestly she was nervous too - she’d kissed him again. Slowly and gently. And they’d made plans.

Since then, life had gone on as usual. News came in daily about the Order and their movements, and a strike was building to take one of their smaller bases along the Outer Rim. One that housed a variety of unused equipment that the Order had yet to scrap, but wasn’t willing to leave unguarded. If they could take the base, which was well-fortified, but low on personnel, it would put the Resistance at a bit of an advantage. There were other things brewing as well. Rumors. Talk of the Order invading planets, taking children and young men and women from their families. Building a new slave army. And taking out anyone who might help the rebels at the same time. If they couldn’t drive them out, they’d breed them out. Or so the rumors went.

So tonight, Faye wore a dress. Not because she had to. But because she wanted to. Because there was so much in the galaxy that was dirty and ugly and cruel. Tonight she wanted to be everything that was the opposite. Beautiful and soft and kind. The dress was one of her own. One she liked, and that fit her well, accentuated her figure without being too tight. It was a light cream color, and fitted at the top. She wore low heels in dark grey color, and her hair was up in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. A thick braid twisted down one side, the long ends tucked into the bun, a few flying loose around her face.

Arriving at her destination, she knocked, even though she knew she could go in if she liked. She’d done so before. But tonight was different, and while she was a bit nervous, she didn’t feel awkward or ill at ease.

And when the door finally opened, all she could do was smile, and try not to blush as he regarded her.

Despite the fact he’d been given quarters in the centremost aspect of the mountain, Fane found that he preferred his ship’s quarters regardless. Perhaps it was habit or it was the fact he’d lived there for several years and grown accustomed to the small space and though he felt more at ease there he didn’t particularly have all that much room to host. Which was what he’d offered to do tonight and several times recently for Faye when they shared meals together, which as the weeks had gone on grown more commonplace either due to strategy planning or simply because they just wanted to spend some time together.

There was also the consideration of how else things had changed between them, their kiss had opened up a door that was verging on impossible to close and it was something that had lingered on his mind day and night until finally he’d caved. And now-- Fane wasn’t sure what this was between them, the relaxed coexistence still was present but there was a winding tension that had been building in each and every occasion. His curiosity, interest and confidence growing just as it seemed to with Faye until more than once they’d been left frustrated and worked up but unsure whether it would be a good idea to take that final step.

Because if Fane was being honest he wasn’t how just what would result from that, not that it changed his interest in wanting it. There was also the consideration that he struggled to think about little else than Faye in those times when he wasn’t having to focus his attention on the war efforts. How this would change things concerned him a little, but the frustration was detrimental to his work. There were two viable options; to cease whatever this was or to take that leap of faith and pray that whatever came next wouldn’t turn sour. He’d seen the consequences of that growing up, and if he was honest with himself it was one of the few things that scared him the most. Of losing people he was close and cared for not that he would ever admit that not even to himself.

So when Faye had finally posed that question to him, whether he wanted her he’d been left with a decision. One that had ultimately led to this evening. Not that he had any idea how to prepare or even how it was even going to end, all he knew was that his palms wouldn’t stop sweating much to his annoyance. He’d ended up going out into the jungle to get some things to cook for dinner tonight, hunting he’d come to find was a good way to help clear his head of nuisance thoughts of which he’d had far too many as the hour drew closer to when Faye arrived at his quarters.

One thing that had changed over the months of being on the base was his choice of style, and though it still lacked any real semblance of colour it was just a little more lax in comparison to his former sleek styles. He’d opted for a long-sleeved charcoal tee, the material pinched occasionally to give it a little flare and shaping, combat trousers and boots finished the attire which while casual still held a smart put-together tone to it. He’d just finished simmering the meat when he heard the knock and glanced at the clock, well, there was no turning back now he supposed. Leaving the food to continue cooking he walked slowly over to the door which slid open when he pressed a button and on the other side stood Faye and all words of greeting died on his tongue as he set eyes on her.

Rare was it these days to ever see anyone in anything beyond flight or jump-suits, perhaps the odd uniform if they felt inclined and though he’d seen her in a dress before almost a year ago now (Canto Bight seemed like a lifetime ago now) this was-- Fane didn’t have the words, and it explained why he stood there looking rather shocked and very much at a loss for words. Until he realised he was stood gaping and a touch of redness creeped into his features and he tried to pull himself together, “Faye-- you look--” he blinked his eyes drifting down and back up admiring the way the material flowed and highlighted her figure a small smile gracing his features as he met her gaze “beautiful.” He glanced over his shoulder and then back at her unsure how to greet her even though a warmth had settled in his veins simply at the sight of her but he didn’t wish to presume. He never would, which was why he paused before gesturing into the space “c’mon in? I um-- happened to come across a bottle of something on the Cydonia… I wasn’t sure if you um-- wanted some or--” he shrugged a bit, sheepishly scratching behind his ear.

.

By now, Faye was used to the way Fane sometimes flushed. Personally, she found it utterly endearing. And adorable. But she kept that to herself, only allowing a smile to cross her face whenever it happened. It wasn’t something she commented on often, if at all, knowing it might make him uncomfortable. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him she found him adorable. Not happening. He’d probably look at her like she’d grown another head. Which was certainly not how he was looking at her now. Now he was looking at her… like he wasn’t sure what to make of things. Whatever she had expected him to say, it certainly wasn’t what came out.

Beautiful.

No one had ever called her that. Other than her parents. No one that mattered. A warmth spread in her chest, and she found she couldn’t look away from him for the longest of moment. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly a bit unsure what to do with her hands, but still not feeling awkward. She felt… ready. Was that the right word though? Ready? More like… like her entire being had been waiting on something for the longest, and now it was finally here. So it was more like saying ‘finally’ than anything. A blessed relief. A comfort. Something that was simply good and pure and right.

“Thank you. I um… it’s really the only thing I’ve got,” she said of the casually elegant dress. She came in as he invited her, a small flurry of motion under her feet as the porg - she’d named him Cyd (pronounced ‘Sid’) - scuttled in after her. Faye just watched it go, knowing it would just find it’s preferred spot and nest for the night. It followed her a good bit when she came to Fane’s, having taken a liking to him as well. Cyd was… tolerated by Fane. Faye thought it was just another thing about him that was absolutely endearing.

She looked him over as she came in. “You look… very, very handsome,” she told him. It was the truth. He had slowly but steadily started to come out of the layers and layers of buttons he’d worn all the time when they’d first met. Faye like him either way, but she found this look, dark and elegant, yet still casual, suited him greatly. “I’d love some, yeah, thanks.” They didn’t often drink, as there wasn’t much alcohol on the base. Most of it was saved for special occasions, though now and then a scout ship would come back with a few bottles of wine or spirits, or some local ale they’d picked up. She reached out and touched his arm, smiling as she gave him a small tug.

They moved towards the kitchen and the cooking food, and Faye commented on how delicious it smelled. “You should be a chef if you ever decide not to be rebel scum,” she grinned, reaching around him for a bit of what he was cooking and popping it into her mouth. “‘S really, really good.” He pointed her in the direction of the wine, opened and breathing and chilled on ice, and she took it upon herself to pour them both a glass since he was doing all the cooking. Faye held his out for him - having slid up onto the countertop to watch - when he reached a point where he could step away for a moment. She’d already slipped her shoes off, and her feet swung back and forth idly while she watched him over the rim of her glass.

This wasn’t the first time they’d done this. Not really. He’d cooked for her before. She’d cooked for him. They took meals together in the mess hall, or out in the forest. But that was all before. Before things had shifted. For Faye, it wasn’t going to change anything. At least not in how she treated him. Well, no… that wasn’t completely true. She felt… possessive almost. Over him. Like somehow in the nearly two years they’d known each other he had become hers. Not in the sense that she wanted to control him, or own him, or tell him what to do. Gods no. But in the sense that… he was her person. Everything she did, everything she thought about - other than when she had to compartmentalize her mind for a mission or something similar, and even then it was hard - came back to him. She saw others looking at him. Watching him. Some had even approached him, but Fane had shut all of that down quickly. So Faye wondered… did he think as she did? Was she his? His person? Whatever that might mean?

She watched him as he came to take the glass. Her pulse beat just a little faster as his fingers brushed hers, and her tongue swiped out to wet her lips. “How was your day?” she asked, wanting to know since they hadn’t seen each other really. “They had us flying with the new holo-shields. If we can get them to stay functioning long enough - they’re full of glitches - we might be able to get real damn close to that base.” Talking about ‘work’ was just natural for the both of them. Faye never felt like she had to talk when they had dinner, but she liked to. And they often did. Chatting about this and that. Or about nothing. And if one didn’t feel like talking about a particular subject, they would lean the conversation towards something else. Which was fine.

No expectations. No pretenses. No pressure.

Just like this particular dinner. If what they’d planned for happened, it happened. If not, they would be happy in each other’s company. They wouldn’t force it. Even though they both knew what they wanted.

Seeing how his words caused her to raise a hand and brush her hair back out of the way caused him to wonder if he’d said something wrong, he was hardly skilled in this particular area of conversation as she no doubt knew by now. But she didn’t frown, or step away she just seemed settled by the compliment that seemed fitting for how she appeared right now. He was about to reply when the scuttle of little feet sounded and a rush of orange and brown feathers shot into the room as Cyd shot by chirping as he went and catching Fane a little off guard. Not that it registered, but whatever he might’ve been about to said was quietened as his mouth closed together and he observed the porg go and settle itself up on one of the shelves it had taken a liking to.

“Do I? I just threw it on honestly” Fane still wasn’t sure if this was fitting wear considering how elegant she looked but there was little he could do about it now. Faye stepped inside and he let her step inside before moving to slide the door closed and type in his code to lock the door with a small beep not particularly wishing for disturbances from the world beyond. For a night they could have a time where there was quiet, peace and a little bit of elegance (at least Faye brought the latter aspect) he thought.“ She caught his arm and he was soon enough letting her lead him through to the small kitchenette. “I’m not sure about a chef, I haven’t killed anyone yet but I’m not going to claim anything.” The pinwheels of meat, ham and cheese were cooking and the sauce was simmering but Fane had already prepared a small starter of fish and shellfish he’d caught earlier and made up and spiced with the few herbs available on the base. It had been a job getting and finding the ingredients, it had also involved a bit of a swim and run earlier but he’d managed to get it all together well enough. Then had come the job of preparing it all.

Had she asked Fane wasn’t sure what he would have told her into what he saw her as. A friend yes, a comrade in arms also but there were things he felt about her Fane wasn’t sure he possessed the words for. Didn’t know how to put words to. He felt protective and perhaps a slight ounce of possessiveness towards her and her well-being. Though what any of that meant was questionable and so Fane kept it to himself for the time being, until he had a better idea of what this might be.

But now that was almost done Fane walked over as she proffered the glass, taking it; fingers softly grazing her own and sipping the drink taking the time to savour the alcohol considering it was hard enough to come by a decent quality drink these days. His eyes drifted temporarily to the dart of her tongue across her lips, generally drawing his attention to them as was a general habit these days. But her question put him to rights and he set his glass back down on the counter. “Not bad, had most of the day to myself… Mostly just getting food and stuff” which had been an interesting hunt but ultimately rewarding. His interest perked at the mention of the holo-shields though “yeah? How was it? They seemed to be a bit faulty last I saw but they were saying they were trying to iron out the kinks. I’m still not convinced, but I haven’t given them a go yet so it’s hard to say for sure.”

For now, Fane wasn’t thinking about what the rest of the evening might entail. His only thoughts were on present company and conversation not wishing to get too carried out just yet.

“Mmhm,” Faye nodded as they walked. Though she always thought he looked handsome no matter what he was doing. He could have been wearing clothes straight from the training grounds and she wouldn’t have minded. She hadn’t tried to look particularly elegant. She had only wanted to look nice for him. And she supposed for herself as well. It wasn’t often that they got the chance to be in anything besides their everyday clothes. It made Faye feel like there was more besides fighting and war and flying and planning. Much like it did whenever she spent time with Fane. When he kissed her, or when they sat close to one another, sometimes reading or just enjoying the scenery.

There were reasons they were fighting, after all. And Fane had unwittingly become part of hers.

“Well, there’re worse ways to die than with a belly full of food.” She smiled at him and sipped her drink. It was good, the wine, and she held it in her mouth for a moment, trying to pick out the individual flavors before she swallowed. But she was terrible at such a thing, wine being a limited resource. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t savor it.

Though as she had come to know him better, friend and comrade seemed too small a description for who he was to her. Like him, however, Faye wasn’t sure what word was best. Or if there even was one. She pondered over it sometimes, at night when she couldn’t sleep, or when they were sat together quietly. She pondered it a bit now, while she watched him fiddle with the food before coming to take the glass of wine. “You caught those?” she asked of the fish. “You have been busy, haven’t you, Mr. Huntsman?” Faye was decidedly impressed. She hadn’t known Fane could fish. Or hunt. It didn’t surprise her as much as it might someone else; if he was going to do something he was going to do it to the best of his ability.

She hummed around her glass as he asked about the shields. “Not as bad as you’d think. They just have trouble keeping up with our agility. Flying straight, banking slow… pretty much anything that’s not a combat maneuver,” she said with a long-suffering look, “is great. The moment I move too fast the whole thing just…” She waved a hand. “- flickers all over the place. If it does that during an air attack… we’re toast.” She gazed at him, eyes taking him in for a moment. “You should. Maybe you can figure out why we’re having so much trouble.” There was a slight bit of frustration in her voice. The tentative date for taking the base was looming within the month. There were still so many things to do. So much to plan for and take into account. So many to worry over. Though Faye could say that only one person sat at the top of her list.

Which is why times like this were more important than ever.

“There’s worse ways to go,” he agreed before taking another sip of his drink and smiling a little at the thought. Really, it wasn’t the worst one he could think of and at least you’d be enjoying yourself at the end (sort of). But Fane was no real connoisseur of such artforms or even beverages. All he knew was whether something tasted good or didn’t, before the age of six he’d led a rather privileged lifestyle but beyond that Fane struggled to remember anything beyond the distant fringes of space. The exploration of new planets in search of a home and hideaway to rebuild and reclaim what had been stolen from them by the terrorists and traitors that called themselves the New Republic.

There were no such luxuries in the Unknown Regions, what they had they had scavenged and forged for themselves. Every opportunity fought tooth and nail for. They had been forged in the darkness and constructed themselves a bigger and better force to combat their enemies considering they now lacked the numbers the Empire once had. The Order was smaller by comparison but their technologies and equipment far more advanced which was how they had returned to try and take back what was once theirs. Fane had grown up in a society skewed in their beliefs and opinions, with nothing more than the military propaganda and stories of what life once was like before it had been taken away. His hatred had been imbedded at such an age where it could be crafted and controlled and moulded until he was just another weapon to be utilised to strike fear and terror into those who crossed him.

But none of that particularly mattered, five years he’d been free from those shackles and constraints and he could only hope that perhaps he was better for it. So when Faye mentioned the fish Fane gave them a cursory look, “it’s not difficult when you know how to make the right equipment” it was a passing remark, never claiming any sort of responsibility or entitlement from the achievement that catching them might entail. Gloating or gleeful wasn’t in his methodology. “I did a lot of stuff like this when I was younger, considering it was this or ration cubes and we all know how bad they taste” rare was it for Fane to talk about his life growing up. But sometimes the odd tidbit fell in every now and then, which apparently was one of those moments.

“Why not see about fixing some stabilising thrusters to them?” Fane suggested as he picked up the two plates of shell and general fish placing it down on the table which was already set up. “I’ll send one of my techs to go and have a look at them if you fancy? If there’s anyone who will have some idea it’ll be my guys.” But Fane didn’t dismiss the notion of flying one himself, he’d give it a test run and see how it went but he never was the sort to promise anything unnecessarily.

Faye’s parents had been farmers. Before they were part of the Resistance. Grain farmers. They lived a decent life. Faye had never gone hungry, had always had clean clothes, and both her parents loved her very much. They’d lived a simple, clean life. A quiet life in the countryside. Until the world had changed. Both her parents were still alive, back on their home planet. But the farm was gone. Destroyed when the Order tried to take over and they wouldn’t relent. Like most people Faye had known.

“Never could catch a damn thing anytime I’ve been fishing,” she commented, thinking back on the times she’d gone as a child. There had been no propaganda in her life then. Only a hatred for the people that sought to take what others had worked so hard for. A desire to see them driven out, destroyed, because it was what was right. The Order claimed to want peace. And Faye had no doubt that they believed what they were doing would achieve that goal. Though Faye’s idea of peace was quite different that the demonstrations she’d seen over the years. Peace through tyranny wasn’t peace. It was fear. It was humanity cowed and subjegated. Too afraid for themselves or their loved ones to fight back.

Faye wasn’t afraid. Not for herself. She would fight and die if she had to, if it helped take down the Order. Did she want to die? Of course not. Faye wanted to live. She wanted a life after the war. She wanted a place of her own, with water and greenery and maybe a family one day. A husband. Someone who loved her and she loved in return. A simple life, but one that wasn’t boring or sheltered.

So she smiled when he mentioned doing it when he was younger. Little slices of his life slipped out now and then, and Faye held onto each one. Held onto the bits and pieces of what made him who he was. What made him someone she’d grown to think of as vitally important to her own life. “Maybe you can show me sometime. I never could catch anything,” she said with a small laugh. As he picked up the plates and ushered them to the nicely set table, Faye slid down off the counter and padded over, setting the wine bottle down in the middle where they could reach it. She wasn’t sure what she might be able to help with, if anything, so she just left herself available to grab anything else that might need setting out.

“Stabilizing thrusters…” she repeated thoughtfully. “I hadn’t thought of that. Yeah… send them by anytime. I trust them more than some of these hack jobs around here. Not that they don’t mean well, but… some of them are new recruits and shouldn’t be anywhere near a ship without supervision. I’ll have my guys looking out for some smaller thruster parts in the meantime. The less weight we’re carrying the better, even if it’s only a few pounds.”

Once everything was ready, they sat and started to eat, still chatting about the fighters. The fish was absoutely amazing, and Faye made sure Fane knew it, though she didn’t keep on about it, knowing he didn’t like to be overly praised. Though she also made sure he knew how nice it all was: the dinner, the wine, the table set up. Everything. And while she didn’t truly feel the need to say ‘thank you,’ as this was for them both, she certainly wanted him to know it was all appreciated. As was he.

They drank the wine slowly, both of them savoring it and trying to make it last. Faye’s foot brushed his beneath the table at some point, and she left it there, resting gently against his boot as they finished up. Faye stood to clear their plates, telling him it was only proper since he’d been the one to do all the cooking and preparing. When she came back a few moments later, leaving a small standard issue kitchen droid to do the actual dish-washing, she stood behind him and rested her hands lightly on his shoulders, testing to make sure it was alright. Her fingers pressed into the muscles there, trying to ease out the knots that were almost ever-present.

“Always so tense,” she said quietly, though there was gentle teasing in her voice.

Once a long time ago Faye had asked him what he would do in the future, when, if the war was over and Fane had not particular answer for her because if he was being brutally honest he didn’t know where he would fit in a world without war. What use would he be in a world where there was no real need for espionage? For subterfuge and any of the other things he was trained and capable of? He’d never considered the idea or prospect of settling down, not particularly viewing himself as very worthy of such niceties (that is if he even made it that far in life). Not even now did he particularly stop to consider such things, it was only on the occasion of Faye’s prompting and discussion of such things he even attempted to try and contemplate such a future.

“Could do, though mostly I just spearfish” he explained around the occasional bites of the appetiser “we didn’t have the luxury of choice especially when we were landing on new planets-- you never knew what life forms you might encounter… More often than not it just wanted to eat you.” Not only had the lifestyle been cut throat but the environment had been too. Kill or be killed, that was all he could remember really of his own childhood exploring planets. No person was spared regardless of their age. If they were capable of learning they were put to work and duty.

“I’ll mention it to them, have them come by and take a look” Fane remarked with a small nod as Faye suggested they came by. “Issue is while the weight would perhaps compromise agility it would increase stability-- it’s a balance of finding the right amount of both hm?”

The meal was good enough in his opinion, nothing spectacular but he’d done what he could with the things available. By the time they were done with the appetiser Fane had gotten the pinwheels of meat and cheese from the cooker serving them up with a side of vegetables. Conversation flowed more freely around food and with every glass of alcohol that was slowly drained between them until Fane was feeling a little more relaxed and comfortable as he always tended to regardless with Faye. Though a part of him felt inclined to intervene he didn’t and opted instead to sit and watch knowing that Faye would insist regardless.

She arrived back behind him and where once there may have been an initial tension present under her touch he was comfortable and used enough to such things from her that he merely turned his head back enough to look up at her. Though it was hard not to let his eyes roll closed and to groan under the pressure of her fingers not realising how tight they were until she drew attention to them “that’s me,” Fane couldn’t even bring himself to disagree with the assessment.

“I never tried spearfishing. Was always with a cane pole or net. I’d love to give it a go though.” She didn’t expect him to drop everything and take her into the forest to go fishing. But it was a nice thought that maybe one day they could venture out and take the time for that. Though it would take more than an hour or two. She laughed a bit at the comment on getting eaten, not asking for specifics about where he’d been and with whom. “I’ve only ever been almost eaten a couple of times. It was not fun.”

The alcohol only served to add to the relaxation she felt. It was comfortable here, the food was good, as was the company. She didn’t drink much, as it wasn’t readily available, and she also needed to almost always be ready to jump into her fighter at a moment’s notice. So true relaxation was rare. This was probably as close as they’d both come in awhile.

Faye looked down at him as he turned his head. “Well, let’s see what we can do about it, hm?” A soft smile settled on her face as she continued to work the knots from his shoulders. Her hands were firm and steady, and she worked from the base of his neck out towards his arms. Every now and then she would comb her fingers through his hair. “Better?” she asked after a bit, though she didn’t stop what she was doing.

“It’s not easy,” Fane said thinking back to how long he’d spent earlier wading through the lake patiently waiting for just that right moment in the water. He’d always had an odd sort of sense and feeling for this sort of thing like he knew just when was the best moment to move or strike for maximum result. What it was he couldn’t say, though those who had any sort of sense would have been testing his midi-chlorian levels by now (it was standard practise to pick exceptional fighters in the Order) considering elevated levels tended to correlate with a force-sensitivity. Not that such things had ever occurred to Fane over the years, mostly attributing his results to simple luck and nothing more than that. “But sure, I’ll take you spearfishing sometime.”

Fane rarely let himself indulge in such things, and perhaps had it not been for Faye he likely wouldn’t have done so presently either. There was no point letting it go to waste, and between then they were draining it rapidly and Fane would have been lying if it wasn’t going just a little to his head. But where with others he might have worried, with Faye he felt secure in the knowledge that whatever happened it would work out in the end. They trusted one another implicitly and it was part of why whatever this was worked so well.

“Mm, indeed let’s see” he agreed a little more quietly now his shoulders sinking a little under the press and exploration of her hands and fingers. Though the occasions her fingers combed through his eyes drifted closed, relaxing into her touch having grown rather accustomed to it over the years “actually yeah. Though-- seems unfair I get special treatment and you don’t either…” he pointed out tilting his head back into her hands so he could look at her slightly upside down “hm?”

“Like I mind that. You should know me better by now.” Faye loved a good challenge. She loved learning things she didn’t know. Seeing things she’d never seen before. Experiencing new things for the first time. So if Fane said he would take her, then he would. She nodded in acceptance, hoping she wouldn’t let him down too much if she was rubbish at it. She’d noticed how keenly aware he was at times. How he seemed just… sense things before they happened. It struck Faye as an uncommon trait, though nothing that would have made her think he could be a Force-sensitive. She’d never met a Jedi in her life. They were myth in this time. Legend. All gone except for Luke Skywalker and a twenty year old girl from nowhere. But sometimes it only took one tiny ray of hope to fuel a rebellion. The Order told everyone the Jedi were wiped out. Extinct.

Or they had. They knew better now.

Which made for a whole other set of problems.

But that wasn’t for tonight.

Faye continued to rub his shoulders, growing quiet for a bit as she let herself enjoy the simple act. When she’d first met him, a lifetime ago it seemed, Faye would never had guessed they’d end up… well, as whatever they were. Friends. Companions. Trusted allies. All of the above and more. There was no one else she cared to do this with. No one else she cared to spend her precious time off with. No one else she cared about so much that she would take the time to make sure every tense knot of muscle was gone before the night was through. She cared about all her friends, her brothers and sisters in arms, loved her family. But with Fane it was… different.

And Faye for one didn’t care to put a name to it just yet, if ever. It worked. Why label it?

She grinned softly as he slowly loosened up, the wine making it’s way to both of their heads. But in a pleasant way that softened their movements and loosened that tiniest bit of inhibition that had been holding them back. Just enough that if it was meant for them to go further, they would, but with heads clear enough to know and remember. A small laugh worked it’s way out of her throat as he looked back at her. She stroked her fingers over his cheeks, smiling down at him. “You can repay the favor in a bit, hm?” Leaning down, she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “This is for you right now.”

Fane hardly minded other people failing, it was a learning process for them. He never held them to the same standard he did himself considering that would be, in his opinion, unfair. Not that it didn’t mean he wouldn’t push them to their supposed limits if he thought they could take it, Fane sometimes took recruit training depending on what his schedule entailed-- it was just another responsibility he took on and it helped him get to know some of the recruits in their ranks though not all were keen in how hard he sometimes pushed them. But ultimately, it was all for the greater good. They were at war. They needed to be able to defend themselves to the best of their capability and the pushing he did would help ensure they were ready the next time the Order descended.

Fane appreciated the time he got to spend with Faye, perhaps more than he always let on. She seemed to understand or at least appreciate the quietness he tended to keep in his life beyond work (rare as time off like this was unless she physically dragged him off). She also took the time to see that he was alright, pushing against and sometimes even past the front he tended to keep even though occasionally such advances left him feeling a bit uncertain. But never uncomfortable he found which he put down to his trust in her.

He didn’t care for drinking much, but it was nice to simply relax and unwind under the slow touch of Faye’s hands. Her laugh brought a smile to his lips as he looked up at her, “what if I’m feeling impatient?” he questioned warmth blooming under the kiss she pressed to his forehead. But he made no effort to move just yet enjoying her attentions too much to interrupt.

Faye thought that failure was really the only way to learn. Failure and determination, and trying it over and over until you got it right. Though having a good teacher helped. And Fane was an excellent teacher. Faye had watched him with the new recruits. He pushed them, but no harder than he would push himself. Which wasn’t saying much since Fane pushed himself past his own limits.

She could see the difference in them though, those young men and women. Even older recruits were given no leeway, which most appreciated. The Order wouldn’t go gentle on them, so why should Fane? No. In Faye’s mind, he was doing them a favor.

Faye did appreciate his quietness. Too many people she knew felt the need to fill such things with chatter. And while Faye would never deny being one to go on about certain things, she appreciated the stillness. The way it eased her after a long day. The way they might not say more than a few words to each other, but she always left his side feeling better. And she always made sure he was taken care of as well. That he remembered to eat, or that a wound he might have acquired wasn’t left to fester, to be ‘taken care of later.’ And she did push, just a little. Only as much as she felt she could. And it was always gentle, never overwhelming. And sometimes she made headway, sometimes not. But it was all a work in progress.

Much as her helping him to relax was.

So when he smiled at her, she couldn’t help but smile back. It changed his whole face, made his dark eyes dance, made him look years younger than his usually stern countenance did. Not that he looked old by any means, but he had the stubbornness of a man twice his age. She only pulled back a bit after the kiss. Strands of her hair tickled his face. “You? Impatient? Well, now that’s a first isn’t it?” But she leaned up just a bit and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. It was an awkward angle, so she didn’t go much further. Pulling back again, she raked her hands through his hair. “Care to move somewhere more comfortable?”

If people tended to commented on his teaching methods Fane would simply make the very same point Faye just thought of, the Order would never go easy on them. Storm-troopers had a lifetime of training and so had Fane, you couldn’t beat them with tactics that might seem fair. Underhanded motives and outmaneuvering them was the only way and chance they had to win in the long run. But none of that mattered right now, the world was beyond the door that was sealed and locked away for now. For now the extent of the world was himself and Faye. Nothing more than that and for now he could let the rest drift away. Something he’d noticed happened more and more the more time he spent with Faye.

Fane never had much reason to smile, or even to show anything more than a general neutral opinion of anything going on around him. That simply was how he had been raised and what had stuck with him over the years. The question was whether it was a good or bad trait. Whatever the case, it had helped him survive. “Apparently you seem to bring out my worser qualities,” he commented his head tilting back just a little more when she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth though it was more upside down than anything considering how his head was angled on the back of the chair. Pleasant enough, but Fane had come to learn he desired more than passing moments during the course of development whatever this was between them had taken.

A low breath left him as she raked her fingers through his hair, “depends, I might need incentive to move hm?” He was joking, but Fane had begun to grow more accustomed to letting his sense of humour show just that little more than he had before.

“Who said impatience was a bad thing?” she said as she moved to kiss the other side of his mouth. Soft and lingering, but not the true kisses either of them desired. Faye laughed, a low sound that was accompanied by more fingers in his hair. It was thick and soft, and though he normally kept it neatly combed and tended, her attentions had it curling around her fingers and looking rather disheveled. It was a look she’d come to love seeing on him. A look that was just a bit less refined, a bit less tightly bound. She liked him all the time, of course, but seeing him in a different light was always agreeable to her.

“Ah, so it’s like that, is it?” Though there was humor in her voice as well. They tended to play off one another sometimes. If the mood and moment struck. It was never forced, just always seeming to fall into place in the right way. Letting her hands drift from his hair, she touched one to the back of the chair, using it as a pivot point as she stepped slowly around him to stand beside him instead of behind. She let it drift down his arm to his hand, fingertips brushing his until they curled around each other and she had a gentle grip on him.

“Will my word be enough to sway you?” Her cheeks were flushed gently from the wine, and bits of her hair had started to fall around her neck in tiny, loose curls. Beneath the fabric of her dress, her nipples were hard despite the comfortable temperature of the room, and her eyes were dark and watchful.

“A lot of people usually, it must be especially if patience is a virtue hm?” Fane had grown accustomed to these such attentions from Faye, the curl and drag of her fingers through his hair a normal occurrence by now. Her kisses while pleasant were hardly satisfying for either one of them and he shifted feeling just a little bit more restless but he suppressed it just for the time being. He was curious to see what she had in mind after all.

“Maybe I want to be difficult,” though his smile widened into more of a grin then watching in his peripheral vision as she circled around, closer until she could drift one drown his arm and grasp his hand in her own loose but with enough intent to draw his attention entirely. A general rhythm for the both of them, where one set the pace and the other settled into it comfortably in this instance Faye happened to have taken the lead and Fane would happily let her lead. They understood that if something was wrong either one of them would voice their problems, not that he saw any if he was honest.

“I suppose it might be enough,” he agreed slowly looking at her with a considering gaze, contemplating her appearance seeming to think it over before he turned and rose from his chair, body straightening to his full height and he could look at her. Her body betrayed the things she wanted, and Fane’s generally observant nature meant it didn’t go amiss but for now he left it seemingly unrecognised letting her pull him in the direction of the bedroom that was attached. “Will this be comfortable enough for you?” he asked a teasing lilt to his tone their hands trailing between them still connected by the curl of their fingers.

“Since when do you care what people think? And virtue, like sin, is all relative, hm?” The world wasn’t black and white. Faye knew this well. So did Fane. Morality, and the things people would do, or be forced to do, were all shaded grey. Especially at times like this. But Fane wasn’t trying to get into a philisophical debate tonight she knew. Neither was Faye. They could chatter on about things unrelated to what they were doing if they chose, and sometimes they did, interspersing it between more pleasant things. But Faye didn’t care to do that either. Not tonight.

She knew her chaste kisses would be slightly frustrating, but she wanted to go slow. Find their rhythm. And maybe she sensed that restlessness in him and wanted to see how far he would let it go. Not because she was being a tease, not a cruel one at least, but because she wanted to know his limits.

He was starting to loosen up, she noticed, as he relaxed more and more. Perhaps the wine helped, or perhaps it was something else. Perhaps it was both. Either way Faye found it utterly appealing. “Do you now?” she grinned, though her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she took his hand. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Faye felt no pressure in guiding things between them. At least for now. She had more experience, after all, even though it had been a long time. But she had no doubt that no matter what happened, Fane would catch on quickly. He always did. So much that it astonished her at times. And she would be lying if she said she didn’t wonder how long it would take him to get a feel for this as well. For the inevitable. Be it tonight or some other night.

Faye’s only worry was that she would let him down. That it would happen, and he wouldn’t like it. Or he would ask what all the fuss was about once it was done. She worried that the things Jevara had done to her would sneak back up on her and she wouldn’t be able treat him like he deserved. Though so far, those thoughts of her time as a slavewife hadn’t surfaced. The slight worry about not being able to please him did, but things were going well, so she didn’t linger there.

She tugged gently on his hand as he rose, standing a head and then some taller than her without her shoes on. Faye was under no illusions that he didn’t notice every tiny detail of her responses to him. The flush of her skin, the increase of her heartbeat, the slight flutter of her breath now and then. He was observant, after all. They made their way towards his bedroom, a room Faye had seen but never truly stepped foot in, and Faye looked back over her shoulder at him. “I’m sure it’ll suit just fine.”

There was no attempt to create a discussion regarding the matter, although Fane still found himself commenting regardless “though it would depend who it’s relative to. Some people care more than others.” But soon enough such matters were set to the wayside. He had come to learn by now that Faye wasn’t generally a tease, not unless there was some deliberate goal she had in mind to achieve and even then it was rare. Things had changed a little from normal though, not massively but enough he’d noticed the passing brushes of her hand or deliberate movements she made to catch his attention and where he might once have been irked by how easily she could draw his focus he found he was, surprisingly enough, rather pleased by it.

He understood her intentions though, they both tended to understand what one or the other wanted within reason to the point sometimes words weren’t required to pass a sentiment or feeling to the other. It was a little like that now, though he had a feeling the restlessness also stemmed from the anticipation over what they had ended up discussing the other day. He felt, nervous, unsure but also that very same familiar curiosity and excitement that tended to come with new territory. Which they might perhaps end up exploring tonight.

So the curl of her fingers into his own, the sight of her flushed and already apparently interested led to his heart thumping just a little more firmly in his chest. Her tongue drew his attention to her lips almost inadvertently and Fane swallowed shallowly. But he didn’t feel deterred only his curiosity edge that little higher. Though a part of him just wanted to kiss her and savour the soft and familiar warmth he had come to associate with her pressed up against him. In due time, at least a part of him hoped so.

The room when they entered was sparsely furnished, almost spartan with everything made with a familiar military precision even the bed was made up without a single crease or fold present. A few books lined the shelves, clothes folded neatly and a few other odds and ends dotted around. Indicators of his discipline even in the space that was supposedly where he was meant to unwind and relax. He didn’t have much he kept, sentimentality not a thing that had ever been shown or encouraged and if he’d been asked to leave immediately a bag would have been completely packed in under five minutes. He wasn’t sure what Faye would make of it, it wasn’t much but it was all that he had and he glanced at her both curious and unsure as to whether she would mind how barren it almost seemed. Arriving at the edge of the bed he sat down so that he was looking up at her. “It’s more comfortable than most places I’ve had to stay across the years so-- there’s that.”

Faye looked around as they entered. It was a clean space, very tidy and well-kept. It suited him though, and Faye didn’t mind it at all. Her own room was a bit less neatly pressed. Her bed normally went unmade, and while she didn’t have all that much, she tried to keep what she had taken care of. Though her clothes tended to end up in a pile over a chair instead of hung up as they should be. She had a few books, not as many as Fane, and nothing truly sentimental either, other than Cyd. Several plants littered her shelves and a few larger ones sat in pots on the floor. Faye loved the greenery, coming from being a farmer’s daughter.

But she didn’t judge Fane’s choice of how to keep his living quarters. They were his, after all. And a neatly made bed came unmade just as easily as anything else. “I like it,” she told him. “It’s peaceful. No distractions.” He sat, and Faye didn’t let go of his hand. Instead she stepped between his knees, his own height and that of the bed giving him a full view of her breasts at near eye level. When she did drop his hand, it was only to raise her own to his face again. Her face turned a bit more serious, though there was still lightness in her eyes. “I’m glad you’re here… that you stayed. I think I’d miss you if you weren’t.”

Faye didn’t let her sentiment find a voice very often. She was the sort of person who liked to show things, not being good with words. So the statement - fueled a bit by the wine that had gone slightly to her head - held more weight than it would coming from someone else. So much said in just a few words. Things that Faye didn’t even realize she was saying, even as she only spoke the truth.

Her thumb brushed the corner of his mouth. “Would you miss me? If I was gone?” What prompted her to ask such a thing, she didn’t know. It simply felt… right.

“No distractions ‘cept you,” he amended with a little grin as he looked up at her from where he was now perched on the edge of the bed his fingers still lightly toying with her own, legs splaying just enough to accommodate her standing between them. Despite everything they had trialled and experimented between them Fane still did his best to show her a certain level of respect and though he found his eyes drawn away from her face he tried never to gawk or stare like some immature teen. They were adults after all. He sat back just a little enough that he could comfortably look up at her without needing to arch his neck too much into the act.

Seeing her face grow more serious he wondered what was on her mind, though she soon voiced it and it left him again, a little surprised and a little unsure how to respond. But he found himself moving a little, his hands raising to bracket her hips as he gazed up at her his eyes unfathomable but something akin to pleasure and a genuine enjoyment at hearing her say this. To show him an attention he’d long since been starved of. “Really?” he wasn’t sure why he found it so hard to believe that someone cared enough to say they’d miss him but it was hard to truly comprehend after the life he’d grown so accustomed to living.

What also surprised him was that she even took the time to verbalise this, and if he’d been clearer in his mind he might’ve questioned why she felt so inclined to say this to him instead of just showing him as she’d been inclined before. Her thumb grazed the corner of his mouth and his head turned, pressing a small kiss to her hand before it smoothed back over the dark scruff lining his jaw. “I would-- but you aren’t going anywhere, you’re here… with me.” Which had to mean something didn’t it?

Faye hummed a small laugh, finding his humor pleasant and warm. They’d kissed often in the last few months, even worked up to a few searching touches here and there. Caresses over clothes that served to both intice and frustrate them both. But Fane was always respectful. And Faye tried to be too. Though her mind often wandered, and she sometimes wished he didn’t ask for permission quite so often. But she understood why he did, and she appreciated it every time, even if she grew slightly frustrated at times. Not with him, but with her body’s own responses that she could do nothing about. At least not with him present.

“Yeah, really.” Her hands moved to his shoulders as his moved to her waist. They were warm, like twin points of flame, even through the fabric of her dress, and Faye let out a tiny breath of air. Why had she chose to speak out loud now? The wine had made her feel relaxed yes, languid even, but it hadn’t taken over her faculties completely. Perhaps it was because she didn’t want him to think what they were doing - or might be doing - was offered out of pity on her part. Or that it didn’t meant anything to her. Because it did. It meant more than she could say. So she said it as best she could, in a way that made sense at the time.

When he spoke, saying that yes, he would miss her, but that she was here, with him, in such a matter of fact way, Faye couldn’t help but smile. And it wasn’t a grin, but something smaller, softer. Something private. Just between them. At the same time, something warm flared in Faye’s chest, and she felt her heart speed up in time with the sudden rush of… affection? No, that didn’t seem right. It was bigger than that.

“Yeah…” she said quietly. “Yeah… I am.” Faye leaned down and kissed him then. Slow and soft like they always started with. To find what worked. To find the right pace. The right way of things. But as much as she wanted to go slow for him, a tiny part of her trembled with anticipation. It had been a long, long time after all.

Fane tended to stand on circumstance, and though it was almost two years ago now that they had met the circumstances under which they had met were fraught with things that concerned him for her well-being. Not that it was perhaps his domain to worry but it didn’t change the fact that a part of him did, because he wasn’t sure what would or wouldn’t potentially upset her and that was why he felt so inclined to check. After all, once he had and knew he didn’t need to do it again.

His fingers pressed small divots into her dress through the soft material of her loose dress feeling the warmth of her body beneath. He’d grown more comfortable in touching her like this over the time they’d gotten to know one another rather more intimately but he still never liked to stand on ceremony and assume something he did would be something she in turn would enjoy. He was clear-headed enough to be sure in what they were doing, and also in thinking of what it might mean in turn down the line but he didn’t want to consider those things just yet. Not when this was still so new between them.

Her smile flooded him with warmth, something he noticed happened more and more whenever he was graced with her smiles. And Fane found himself smiling in turn giving another small squeeze his eyes filled with a softness that was only ever reserved for when he gazed at her. And for those that knew they might have called it love.

Nothing more needed to be said, not when she was leaning down and he was supporting her so they didn’t entirely topple over onto the mattress. Though his arms slipped further around her pulling her in and tilting his head up mouth opening to the slow and deliberate pressure of her mouth against his own.

Little steps here and there was how they worked a lot of the time. A brush of hand that turned to a more confident touch when given the go ahead. A subject touched on that wasn’t diverted. Push and pull, give and take. It was simply what worked, and neither had a mind to question it. Not when they didn’t have to. Not when it brought them both happiness.

Faye had never been in love before. She loved people, of course. Her parents, friends, her comrades. But being in love was different. It snuck up on you. One day you looked at someone you’d known for what seemed like forever, and something shifted. And then you realize, that from this friendship has grown something - someone - that you can’t imagine yourself without. So if all that held true, then perhaps she was in love with Fane. Though what she was required to do with that feeling, should she ever realize what it was, Faye had no idea.

Right now, she was kissing him, and his hands were on her waist. He was pulling her in, his mouth already opening to hers. Before they could topple over, Faye slowed her movements. Pulling back slightly, her hands fell to her sides, and her fingers caught her dress on either side. Slowly, the fabric crept up her thighs, until it was high enough that it didn’t keep her from settling across his lap. She did so slowly, letting him see the rise of the material that exposed the long expanse of her legs. And when she placed one knee on either side of him, letting the fabric fall back down to pool in his lap, she waited, making sure it was alright and not too fast, before she resumed her slow exploration of his mouth.

They had a rhythm that worked between them, some days that consisted of them taking their time to find it. To push or edge back depending on what each other wanted but Fane had grown to notice there was more push of late than anything else. A push towards a boundary they’d been dancing around rather a lot but if tonight ended as had been suggested things would likely change entirely. Though what that meant Fane wasn’t entirely sure yet or what it would mean for either one of them.

Just as Faye would tell him if things were too fast for her he would tell her likewise, it was an act they’d gotten rather good at over the last two years whether it was in work or anything else besides that. Though these moments they had begun to share recently were entirely different to the ones they shared when they had jobs to do and roles to play.

So, as Faye rose breaking the kiss momentarily to move closer and take the time to hitch the skirt of her dress up enough that she could straddle his lap Fane’s hands rose just a fraction higher rubbing her waist through the material of her dress. He still acted to support her so they didn’t fall just yet explaining why one hand; fingers splayed over her ribs stayed put but he took the opportunity presented to him to lean in and press a kiss on the slope of where her neck met her shoulder. His lips ghosted a trail of peppered affections down the line of her clavicle before he backtracked until his head rested just under her chin breathing more shallow as his hand drifted down, fingers softly tracing the bare skin of her newly exposed thigh. Curious but slow in their explorations, wanting to see how she reacted before his head tilted back and he met her kiss slowly.

Things would change after tonight. Faye knew they would. Just like she’d known they would change after she’d kissed him that first time. It was nothing drastic, but a slow change that had happened over time. The loosening of a tight muscle here, a low rumble of a laugh there. Small steps, each just as important as the next, with little pushes along the way the get them over an obstacle that stood in their path. Never crashing through it without thinking, but always observing, adjusting, taking another path if the first one didn’t work. All because they cared. They wanted what was best for each other, even if they never said it out loud.

She settled over him, the play of his mouth over her skin pulling a small, shuddering breath from her lips. He trailed fire over the arch of her collarbone, his breath warm and shallow as he came to rest against her. Her hands, shaking slightly, rose back to his shoulders, and she breathed him in, trying not to roll her hips as his fingers brushed the bare skin of her thigh for the first time.

Faye’s own breathing grew more shallow, and she hummed her approval in his ear, giving him permission to explore. It had been… god it had been years since someone had touched her so gently and with such reverence. To say it didn’t make her feel slightly heady, and a bit powerful, would be a lie. Their mouths met again, and it was slow, but deeper than before. Faye flicked her tongue against his, and her fingers drifted, dancing slowly down his chest to tug just so on the hem of his shirt, seeking permission to pull it free. To touch skin that had yet to be explored.

The hum of her approval in his ear served as encouragement for him to continue, and where it was once just the pads of his fingers pressing into her skin his hands flattened, palms pressing into the warm and firm curve of muscle typically hidden by the flight-suit Faye often wore around base. Considering they always had to be ready to fight at any point it was understandable even if it did little to flatter her figure. Not that such suits were designed to be the epitome of fashion, but if the dress she wore tonight highlighted anything, it was the fact he could certainly grow used to appreciating her figure along with several other things he could name that had nothing to do with her physicality.

It just so happened today, this was the thing he noticed most prominently and a part of him could only hope he would be able to learn how to help her enjoy whatever the rest of the evening entailed. Because if what had come to pass so far was anything to go by-- Fane was almost certain he’d be pleased by the outcome. But he wasn’t about to get ahead of himself, for now savouring the softness of her skin as he smoothed slowly up and down her thighs hands occupied with this act as she pulled him in for another kiss.

He’d grown used to kissing her like this, the slight battle for dominance something he’d grown rather fond of and when her tongue retreated he took the opportunity to nip at her lip knowing well enough by now she enjoyed this. And then her hands were tugging at his shirt and he made a low noise but created just enough space that she could do as she silently sought. To remove it and pass yet another new barrier between them.

His hands flattened over her thighs, smoothing up higher towards her hips and back down. Faye hummed in approval once more. She was toned from years of flying and fighting, and the softness that she’d put on during her time as a captive was nearly all gone, replaced by well-used muscle. The bolder he grew, the more Faye took it as a sign to push just a little more. To go just a little bit further. He would let her know if it was too much.

She gasped, a tiny breath of a sound, as he nipped her lip, but pressed back into him, grinning against his mouth as she tugged on his shirt. When he gave his permission, and gave her ample room, she pulled the fabric free, but didn’t pull it up and over his head just yet. Her mouth broke from his, and she rested her forehead against his temple as her fingers found warm skin. Faye knew a bit of what to expect from seeing him training, but to feel it, the softness over lean muscle that moved slightly with is breath and as she touched him, that was another thing entirely.

Her fingers curved around his waist, dragging back up over his stomach, over his ribs, over the roughness of his nipples, until all he had to do was raise his arms and the shirt would be gone. It was a slow progression as she took the time to touch him, to feel the contours of his body that she was getting to know for the first time. Finally, she pulled back and looked at him, hands splayed over his bare chest under the shirt that still remained for now. Seeking permission. Seeking approval. Seeking whatever made him happy.

The small bite to her lip made him grin a little against her lips, always pleased when he was capable of drawing out responses such as these from her. He found it was rather exciting in a way and it only made him wish to strive to gain more like this, more recently he’d found himself wondering what else he could draw forth from her almost a general challenge to himself. He’d felt more confident in testing boundaries and every new encounter resulted in his curiosity and anticipation notching ever higher. So, this and the curl of her fingers in the thin material of his shirt felt like a blessed relief he didn’t even realise he’d needed up until now.

So, as she pressed closer the movement anchoring her hips more firmly into his own a low breath of warm air left him, which was just as quickly inhaled as her fingers sought out the skin that was always kept hidden beneath. Fane very rarely let people touch him, let alone linger in their affections so this was-- again, entirely new and heat rushed through him her fingers leaving hot scalding trails over his skin.

She seemed to grow more confident, gripping and touching his body with more assurance that he wasn’t about to stop her but he found his heart thudding and breath growing more shallow the further her hands slid under his shirt. Faye looked up at him then, her hands pressed to his chest which rose and fell with every breath he took and there was barely a moments hesitation as he finished the job off for her. Gripping the material where it had raised and pulling it up and over his head to discard it (for once) without any real consideration about keeping it tidy. The air of the room was warm, though only light this deep in the base was from the lighting present on the walls. Nothing natural but enough to cast his athletic frame; sculpted by a lifetime of hard graft and training, littered with scrapes and scars of all manner of variety into view. His hands drifted back to her thighs, gripping them once more and meeting her eyes a general sense of confidence in him as he sat there despite his state of undress hoping she liked what she saw.

From the moment they’d first kissed under that tree at the edge of the base, Faye had told herself that she would be as honest in this as she had always been with him. So her responses to him, to the way he touched her, kissed her, looked at her even, were nothing but pure and real. She didn’t hold them back, allowing him to see and hear what he did to her, even though it flushed her cheeks more often than not. But why hide it? Why hide the fact that she like what he did? That she enjoyed his hands on her, gently exploring? His mouth doing the same? Why deny what they’d both agreed to?

There was no missing the way his own body responded as Faye ventured into new territory, slipping her fingers across the taut skin of his stomach before exploring further. Was she the first one to touch him this way? Yes. Yes, she was. He’d as much as told her so those long weeks ago now. The thought gave her a rush, and her own breath stuttered for a moment as she waited on his permission. She didn’t have to wait long, and he was doing the work for her, pulling the fabric over his head and discarding it in the shadows. That alone would have let Faye know he was utterly here with her, in the moment. But the look on his face, the sharp, shallow rise and fall of his chest beneath her hands, and his own growing more confident over the curve of her thigh… all that let her know as well.

Another barrier gone, Faye sat back just a bit, unable to take her eyes from the sheer madness of seeing so much of his skin all at once. She was captivated. So much so that she could only trail her hands, fingers dancing feather-light, down over him. Over every ridge and scar, every dip and curve gained and refined by the life he led. “Beautiful…” she found herself whispering. Her eyes rose back to his, searching, one hand over the pounding of his heart, the other touching his face again. “Lay back?” Faye asked, her face holding a question as well. ‘Is that alright?’ it asked. ‘I want to see you…’ it said.

There was no controlling how his body responded to her, Fane had begun to realise that when it came to Faye he had very little say in much of anything especially if there was something she wanted. Whether that was somewhere else or here and now. Such as her silent suggestion for his shirt to be discarded leaving him a little rumpled much like how she’d ended up dislodging his hair from its typical neat comb; replacing it instead with wild waves and odd angles. Rare was it for anyone to be capable of driving him to a point of not caring how he might appear, but Faye was capable of getting him to do many odd things by his typical standards.

And he was with her, entirely. Whether it was his curiosity or genuine enjoyment was irrelevant because what truly mattered was the fact he wanted to be here. He wanted to kiss her, to touch her and whatever else he was allowed to do because nothing else felt quite so exhilarating as this.

She sat back and it left him looking at her, his chin tipping just enough to gaze at her; his ebony hues dark and primal as they admired her in kind while his fingers gripped just a little harder having settled at the apex of her thighs. His fingers lightly traced the juncture of her thigh ghosting down but not quite venturing further considering when he was debating doing just that she had conducted her own explorations of his body. Calling him beautiful, and the word and the way in which she said it might’ve been enough to steal all the air from his lungs. So her follow-up request was met with a glance at the bed which they were just on the edge of for the moment. “Come with me?” he gave a small nod further up the bed figuring it would be more comfortable though he had to consider the fact she was currently (and very distractingly) pinning his hips down.

Faye admired how he looked anytime. His tightly buttoned every day appearance, though that had started to shift slightly towards items like he was wearing now, or the rumpled state he was often left in after their encounters. It was especially thrilling for Faye, as she thought such a state was quite pleasing. Especially as she was the one who caused it. Her own state was usually less well-polished, tonight being the exception. She wasn’t sure if Fane preferred either look, but figured it didn’t really matter. He liked her. That was what mattered.

And to see him loosening up, not being quite so stressed about so much, made Faye happy. Especially as it was his own choice to do so. No one had forced him, or coerced him. He had done it all on his own. Something as small as leaving his shirt on the floor was a big step from a year ago. There hadn’t been anything wrong with how he chose to function in his daily life, and Faye liked him regardless. But it seemed to weigh less on him, which was good.

Her own body responded in kind to the reactions of his own. To the touch of his hands, the brush of his thumbs over soft, warm skin that hadn’t felt a kind touch in years. Faye exhaled as he squeezed just so, and couldn’t help the rock of her hips against his own. But then she was admiring him, and her head was growing muzzy with the feeling of touching him and vice versa. The world narrowing to just him and her and the gentle, searching play of fingers and mouths over warm skin. So when he bid her to come too, she nodded. Unsure what he wanted just yet, Faye kissed him once more, softly, and then (reluctantly, and with a small mewl of disappointment) slid from his lap and moved on her knees to lay against his pillows. She reclined comfortably, propped on her side, her dress still riding high on her thighs, and held out a hand to him, silently beckoning him to join her.

Once again they were a study of opposites, where Faye had opted to dress up tonight Fane had reverted to the opposing end of the spectrum in simple verging on casual choice of clothing. And had she asked, just as he’d told her earlier he thought she looked incredible not that it mattered either way what she looked like at the end of the day so long as he had the pleasure of her company. That was in itself enough for him.

He was keenly aware of how she was reacting, paying close attention to inform the things he did. It was a learning experience after all, not that this was why he was even interested in what might come next there was curiosity there yes, but mostly there was an enjoyment he never truly realised up until it had practically kicked down the door and barged into his life. It was such a difference to the things he was used to that he found himself anticipating everything with bated breath. The rock of her hips into his own caused his breath to catch low in his throat, heat rushing south and settling in his belly his cock already half-hard in the confines of his trousers.

But then she drew away and Fane was forced to take a moment to try and regain his bearings considering the dizziness that had overcome him. Though it wasn’t long before he was crawling up to relax beside her; hands sliding up the outside of her thighs to where her dress had bunched high on her legs as he sank down to immediately capture her lips as the mattress sank a little under them.

Faye could feel the press of him between her legs. It set a fire in her own belly. One that rolled higher with every touch of his hands, every press of his mouth. Every rock of his hips and breath of sound. She wanted to touch him so badly. And she would. But not just yet. There were things she wanted to do first. Things she wanted him to do. Wanted him to experience before she took him in hand.

Her own head was swimming with wine and sensation, and she was glad that he didn’t wait too long to join her. She hummed into his mouth as his hands slid over her thighs,rucking the dress back up. She wore panties beneath, something delicate and soft, and already they were damp with want. Faye pushed up onto her hip after a moment, her hands trailing down his side, butterfly touches that barely brushed skin. Her mouth followed. Slowly down his neck, taking her time over his collarbones, down the center of his chest. She paused over one nipple, and after looking up at him to make sure he was still alright, she gently closed her mouth over it, sucking it gently into a hard peak. Her thumb flicked over the other one, and she made soft humming noises as she worked.

If he could get drunk off of feeling anything he was sure whatever was flooding his system right now would be it, every nerve felt like it was aflame and wherever her hands tracked felt like trails of flame were left in their wake. Every touch, sound and feeling rousing him to things he’d done his very best to ignore up until now and considering ignoring this would be a serious effort in itself Fane felt any of his will or any doubts that may have been lingering in the back of his mind crumble away.

By now her dress was over her hips and a glance down made him wet his lips in anticipation and suddenly he wanted to see, to touch more of her all while a part of him wondered what the softness of her skin would taste like. His hand smoothed over the curve of her hip fingers lightly catching in the material of her panties but not quite sure enough to make any move to take them off right then. And any such thought was gone from his mind when she was sliding down his body, the warm wetness of her lips closing over the dark peak of his nipple causing him to suck in a short huff of air groaning and arching a little under her ministrations. “Fuck--” his own hands had shifted to her ribcage on the material of her dress and suddenly he wanted it gone. Curling his fingers into the fabric he tugged insistently making his wish clear “lemme feel you-- please. I want to touch you.”

Faye was slowly getting lost in the feel of him beneath her hands. In the way his own moved over her. The drag of his fingers over the material of her panties made her hum appreciatively, and she worked her way down his chest with slow precision. He tasted divine, clean and soft and warm. When his back arched as she laved at his nipple, she grinned, feeling her belly tighten along with his hands over her ribs.

His wishes were made clear, and Faye stopped what she was doing to look up at him. He hardly ever asked for anything, always waiting for permission or easing into things. She smiled at him, a soft expression that was a bit nervous. Settling to her knees beside him, she watched him for a moment before reaching up and pushing one strap off her shoulder. It fell loose down her arm, the material catching on the curve of her breast. She did the same with the other, the fabric rising and falling with her breathing.

She let it be for a moment, letting him look at her, before she let it fall away completely. Reaching up, she pulled the pins from her hair, letting it fall around her, and the dress was soon lost to the shadows. She settled back against him, nosing along his jaw. “‘S okay?”

He was genuinely surprised at how something so simple as another person’s lips could make him feel this incredible, it was mind-altering and breathtaking simultaneously and Fane was struggling to keep his thoughts on any single coherent track. If he was honest he was struggling to imagine how anything could feel as good as this while wondering why he’d denied himself this for so long. But would it be the same with any other person? Would he trust them as implicitly as he did Faye to be capable of laying himself bare and exposed as he had.

Rare was it for him to feel inclined to ask anything of her, not wishing to seem presumptive or as though he expected to be given anything. He didn’t expect her to do anything she didn’t want and it was just one of the many reasons why this, whatever this was between them worked. But he knew right then that he wanted to see her, to admire her just as she was admiring him in kind; laid out bare for her to explore as she chose. Which prompted him to ask, which in itself was his own way of asking permission she didn’t have to do this after all, not if she didn’t want to. But she was moving shortly after her asked, sitting back and letting the dress slip from her shoulders and if he hadn’t forgotten how to breath before he did then.

He couldn’t stop how his eyes were drawn, to the rise and fall of her chest and the gradual slip of material until it was gone and almost instinctively his hand lifted gently brushing her shoulder, arm and back again before his questing touch moved lower until he grazed the curve of her breast savouring the softness of her skin under his touch. He was transfixed, and it was only when she was climbing back above him and nosing at his jaw that he let out a breath he barely realised he’d been holding. “Yeah-- S’just--” his head tilted back to look up at her affectionately “you’re beautiful.”

Faye’s eyes never left his face as she slipped out of her dress, baring her whole self to him. Even when his hands found the supple flesh of her breast, touching lightly, she looked only at him. Though she made a small sound of encouragement, that he should feel free to touch more of her if he wanted. Because god she wanted him to. It took everything she had to hold back, to go slow, to let things ease in instead of just devouring him where he lay. It would be easy, she thought, to have him moaning under her in second, but she didn’t want that. She wanted to savor this. She wanted this first time, his first time, to be something he never forgot. To be something he cherished.

Like she wanted him to cherish her. Even though she didn’t realize it yet.

“That’s the second time you’ve said that.” Faye smiled softly down at him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath her own. Her bare leg curved over his, still clad in his trousers, and she took a moment to trace her fingers down his chest. They curved over his hip, dipping beneath his waistband as they drew back across the soft skin of his stomach. She wanted to see all of him, to touch and taste him, but she wanted to give him the opportunity first. To touch her like he wanted. To take that next step.

He’d come to learn the sounds of encouragement she made when he did something she liked, they served as a quiet guider for him to understand what she enjoyed in comparison to what she didn’t so much. But the encouragement as he traced the firm curve of her chest only served to give him the confidence to touch her more insistently, more curious about what it would mean or result in. Just as she did for him earlier his fingers flicked over the dark straining buds firm and sensitive followed up by a soothing squeeze his eyes and features entirely engrossed in the act of learning and drinking down every response he could draw from her. But all the while he paid attention to her, his eyes occasionally drifting back up to glance at her. And suddenly he felt hungry, to taste more of her just as she had started on him earlier.

He’d just started to sink a little lower, towards the spot where his fingers toyed, gripped and teased when she spoke and when her own hands began to resume their own attentions. The weight of her leg settling over his made him stop long enough to look up at her while his fingers idly circled one of the firm buds. “Must be true then,” he said quietly though he noted himself how his voice had roughened to a throatier rasp when he spoke.

There was no controlling the arch and lift of his hips as she let her fingers pass under the waistband of his trousers a rumble echoing low in his chest. Wanting, needing more of her touch but all the while wanting to taste her himself. “Can I taste you?” he asked after using a moment to try and compose his shallow breaths and sucking at the juncture of her neck and shoulder his tongue dragging a short line over her skin before nosing in affectionately. Whether he was doing this right he wasn’t sure, but he was going on gut instinct, about what his body was screaming at him to do and what it wanted.

His fingers and mouth were already like hot coals being traced over her skin. When his fingers flicked over the straining buds of her nipples, Faye sucked in a sharp breath. The ache in her belly eased lower, and she knew when he finally touched her where she wanted it most, he would find her panties soaked through with her desire for him. A desire that had pushed everything else from her mind. The war, the Resistance, the impending battle for the Order’s base… everything but him and the way his hands seemed to already know her. The way her own couldn’t get enough of him.... The way they wanted more, wanted all of him. Her mouth watered at the thought of tasting him, and she vowed that before the night was through she would. She would taste every inch of him. Every cord of muscle and ridge of bone.

“Must be…” she sighed, too taken with him to think about protesting. And to her, he was beautiful too. So beautiful. And she would give him anything he asked for. Anything at all. So it was a resounding, “Yes…” when he asked to taste her. “Please, yes…” His mouth on her neck was divine, the pressure hard enough to leave bruises, but soft enough to still be gentle. Faye was quickly coming to the conclusion that she didn’t want gentle. She wanted to be possessed. Taken. She wanted to be the only person that ever saw him like this. The only person that she ever allowed to see her like this. That fact slammed hard into her consciousness, and it was such a powerful thing that Faye was forced to open her eyes.

They were blown dark, and then and there she realized that this was something more than quiet affection or even close friendship between them. She wouldn’t name it yet, because it scared her to death. And she had to be sure. More sure than she had ever been about anything in her life. The press of his hips pulled her back in, and she pulled her hand back a bit before letting it drift lightly down the front of him. A wanton sound worked its way up her throat as she slipped her fingers over the hardness pressing against the dark fabric. She wanted him so badly, it was all she could do to keep herself in control. This was for both of them, yes, but she cared more about him than herself right now. So she took the time to keep touching him, letting him get used to the feel of her hands over the hardness of his cock, confined as it still was. Her breath came shorter and faster the more his mouth moved over her skin. And he grew more confidant with each passing minute.

“I’m yours… taste what you want. Touch what you want… I’m yours. Only yours…”

“Mm, must be,” he echoed softly against her skin where he rested for the time being nosing and tasting. Satiating his curiosity and desires to learn and chart every inch of her skin because the more that was unveiled the deeper his hunger grew. He wanted to kiss every inch of her, and his question was the precursor to that end so her affirmative made him grin against her skin pressing a softer kiss to shoulder then before he shifted lower. Oblivious to the realisation that was sinking in while he began to explore with curious enthusiasm.

Her fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin of his abdomen and the front of his hardness confined yet making its presence entirely known made him moan. Unable to control how his hips pressed forwards needily, wanting more than just the pressure she was applying that brought a lusty haze over his mind. And then she took him in hand and his head pressed into her chest suddenly struggling to remember how to breathe with the soft strokes of her fingers. But he nosed against her, sweat already beading at his brow as he shifted lower until he could suck a straining bud into his warm and wet mouth, his tongue swirling in a lazy circle around the firm bud before drawing away his teeth scraping gently over the peak silently hoping she wouldn’t mind the attention. He was testing, trialing out things she’d done to him that he could only hope would feel just as good to her as they did him.

Moving over to lave and attend her other breast he eventually pulled off with a slick pop. “Where do you want me?” he asked throatily, “tell me what you like-- what you want” because he wanted it all, wanted to learn everything she could ever enjoy though he was struggling to focus under the attentions of her hand which drew occasional wanton sounds from his mouth.

The feel of him in her hand, even through the layers of fabric that still separated them, was enough to make the last of Faye’s already tenuous hold on herself fall away. He pressed into her hand, making wanton, needful sounds that went straight to her center. Her fingers gripped at his hair, holding him against her as he panted for breath. She could feel the slickness of the sweat on his brow, and she made a sound of her own - slightly bereft - as he slipped lower and her hand slid a bit away from him.

But as his warm mouth closed over the hard bud of her nipple, the sound turned to a hiss of pleasure, and her head fell back. She cursed to herself at the drag of his teeth, squeezing her thighs together to give herself some sort of relief from the ache between her legs. He moved on to her other breast, and Faye let the movement push her onto her back. Her eyes were dark and hooded as she reached for him again, drawing her hand more insistently over him and hooking her fingers in his belt.

She was so far gone, so far over the edge of reason, and wanted him so badly, that she could no longer control what she said. Which is why when he asked her where she wanted him, the only thing she could say was, “Inside me… now…” Faye pulled his belt loose more roughly than she had planned to. “I want you… just you…” Finally her fingers found warm skin, velvety soft and hard as bone, and she let out a breath, utterly pleased at what had been waiting for her. “Do you want me? Do you wanna touch me first? See what do to me?” Her panties were soaked through, and she knew once he touched her, once they crossed that threshold, that she wouldn’t last long. But they had all night, after all.

The hiss of pleasure made a pleasured warmth swell in his chest, along with perhaps a touch of smugness over the fact that it was him who had been able to draw these sounds from her. To be able to reduce her to this panting and wanton mess who wanted him so much she was practically marking him with her grip not that he minded, finding that he actually rather liked the firm grasp of her fingers and nails as they dug into his body. Her head was thrown back and she was pushed back under him and a thrill shot through him at the fact.

But he wanted to learn everything she enjoyed, and anything he could do to bring more of this apparent pleasure to her. And when she gave her breathless insistence of wanting him inside of her his nostrils flared a little, his desirous gaze dark and wanting just as much as his hips were jerked by the sharp tug of his belt from its loops. He wasn’t sure whether her words were simply lust-driven, but regardless they made him smile against her chest though his breath caught in his throat as she took him in hand and he groaned against her skin. “Yes-- yes, I want it all” he rumbled struggling to focus on anything beyond the grip of her hand and the sensitivity he felt to her touch.

Emboldened by her own exploration his hands moved to hook in the edge of her panties, pulling them down perhaps a touch too sharply in his need before they were discarded. His fingers dragging up her thighs to grip her hip and pin her down before his hand tentatively dipped between her legs and he let out a breath at the slick slide of his fingers which stroked her gently. “You’re so wet--” he half-laughed feeling dizzy and light headed all at once “all for me?”

Faye had tried her best to retain some form of control over herself. To go slow and make sure this lasted. To make sure he enjoyed it just as she was certain she would. She had no idea that he would affect her like this. Turning her into a trembling, gasping mess so quickly. Faye was quite aware she was attracted to him. Very much so. But this was something else. If he had been anyone else, she would have called him out as a liar for never having done this before. It came so naturally, so easily, and he caught on so quickly that Faye would never have pegged him a virgin.

Her nails drug over his skin, through his hair and down his shoulders and back. There would be marks, she knew, in the morning. Though he didn’t seem to mind. Every action of hers caused a reaction on his part, and she was fascinated by each and every one. By the sounds of his breath, the way it stuttered and huffed over her chest; the insistent press of his hips into her hand as she sought out the hard warmth of his cock; the groan that followed.

There was lust in her words, but she was yet to be completely blinded by it, though the haze was closing in fast. But no matter what, everything she said was the complete truth. She wanted him. Only him. And no one else. She wanted him in all the ways a woman could want a man. His response as she cupped him in her hand was enough to drive the breath out of her, and she wrapped her hand around him a bit more firmly, but still gently, and gave his cock a few experimental strokes. Including tracing her thumb around the head, slicking it with the precum already leaking down his shaft. “You feel so good…” Faye groaned, letting her fingers search out the soft skin of his balls. She cupped them gently, just as he tugged her panties loose. The air of the room hit her overheated flesh, and the drag of his own fingers up her thigh, followed by the firm pressing of her hips into the bed, had her opening her eyes to look up at him.

She wanted to see his face when he touched her for the first time. Her mouth was lax and swollen, her own eyes dark and hooded, and as his long fingers dipped between her slick folds, Faye sucked in a breath. Her hips pressed up towards his touch. Or tried to. He still held her fast. The way he seemed so joyously suprised, so astonished, that she wanted him like this, warmed a spot in Faye’s chest. She raised a hand to his face, turning him towards her.

“All for you… it’s always been for you…”

He was surprised but also pleased that he learned this evening what he could be capable of when he put his mind to it, affection had never been a particular interest of his. Why would it be when for so long it had very rarely been shown to him? His only experience was seeing other people and watching the stupid actions it resulted in them doing all in service of that other person, for the sake of love. It seemed, silly and trivial that someone else could mean that much to you at least in his mind.

They seemed to move and work in tandem, for every give there was also a take for action there was a reaction and the drag of Faye’s fingers had him arching up ever so slightly into the rake of her nails, his breath huffing out in response. The groans and arch of his spine serving as proof that he was thoroughly enjoying this and that was before she even sought out further aspects of his body.

There was a struggle, between trying to breathe and making noise when she held him and when she started to stroke and pull he shivered molten heat pooling in his belly and the drag of her thumb resulted in him squeezing his eyes shut tightly and a needy gasp escaping him that was muffled by where his face was pressed into her heated skin. “That’s-- fuck” he wouldn’t last long, not like this and as her fingers continued to explore he felt his belly tighten in response to her words and the cup of her fingers around the heavy hang of his balls. It spurred him on, needy and far more desperate in his act to remove the barriers between them. But he soon found himself transfixed, by how hot and wet she was and he repeated the drag of his fingers to check he wasn’t imagining this, wasn’t imagining how she writhed and twisted under him.

He was gazing down at her body, curious and entirely taken at the same time. But his head turned under her guidance, his dark eyes locking with her own and another soft laugh wanted to bubble up from his chest. He wasn’t entirely sure whether there was anything else she wanted him to do, though she’d made her wants quite clear and figuring it best not to deny her or himself what they both wanted he eased his weight more properly above her until his hips were flush with her own and the press of his cock settled between them. But as much as he wanted it he felt that inclination to check, to make sure she was okay and that she was comfortable. His hand brushed her face gently his face hovering close enough he could feel the warmth of her breath “you okay?”

There was nothing for it. The more he reacted to the touch of her hands, the more such needful sounds escaped him, the more his own fingers continued to drag over her sensitive flesh, the more lost she became. Her own struggle was between holding back and surging forward. Between staying here beneath him and letting him guide how fast he wanted to go, to rolling him onto his back and taking him herself.

But she didn’t want to move, she didn’t want to stop touching him. Didn’t want him to have to stop touching her for even one second. He looked at her when she bid him do so, and her hands moved as he shifted, settling on his waist. It felt good, his weight against her, solid and warm, like the hardness pressing between her legs. Her thighs cradled him, as she looked up at him, her gaze soft and affectionate.

“I’m okay,” she said quietly. She lifted her head just a bit, brushing her nose along his. “Are you?” Her hands roamed up his back, rubbing gently while her foot moved over his calf. She couldn’t help but press up into him slightly, her body’s response to him being so close to where she wanted him to be.

If she had given into her whims he would never have complained, in fact he was almost certain he would have enjoyed such an act though he couldn’t say for sure. But right now he didn���t want to move, from the cradle of her arms or legs as he settled above her so close to what they both wanted. But he felt inclined to check just to be sure. And with her answer he felt something inside of him settle, comforted to know that she wanted this too though the evidence was readily apparent regardless.

“Mm, I am” he said quietly taking the time to enjoy the brush of her hands and the stroke of her foot along his calf. He shivered against her, already breathless and his eyes wide with anticipation. His hips had began to slowly rock against her, but it was too much to hold back now and he shifted a hand to help guide the way not quite confident enough to do this without. But once he’d lined the slick tip against her it was a matter of pressing forwards and into her, a moan ripping its way from his mouth wanton and desperate along with a string of various curses. “You’re so wet, fuck me--” not only that she was hot, wet and tight around him. And it felt no less than divine a sweet delirium that was washing him away until with a few rocks of his hips he was seated deep, hips flush with her own and panting harshly against her neck where his face had hidden itself away.

Perhaps the next time - for Faye was fairly certain (she hoped) that this wouldn’t be the only time this happened - she would take over. And it would be him on his back beneath her. But for now she was utterly content with how things were going. It felt right. It felt like they’d done this hundreds of times before, even though this was their first.

“Good.” Her hands played their slow melody over his skin as he started to move. The press of him between her thighs was gentle yet insistent, and she wrapped her legs loosely around him as he guided himself inside her. Her hands had moved to his shoulders, and as he slid home they gripped him tightly. Faye’s head fell back and a sound that was just as desperate and wanton as his own slipped from her mouth. Each movement of his hips made her tighten around him, and her entire body thrummed with desire. Overheated and oversensitive, she tightened her legs around him and gripped his hair. Her chest rose and fell beneath him as she panted, her willpower ebbing away in the face of something that felt like the sweetest bliss she had ever known. Something that felt like she could die right now and be happy.

Her hips rolled beneath him, and she tightened around him, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his neck and shoulder. “More…” she panted, dragging her nails up his back. “I want more…”

For the moment, all Fane could think about was the present. There were no thoughts of the resistance or the impending missions or anything else. There was only the warmth of Faye’s skin, the press of her fingers and familiarity of her presence he’d come to notice relaxed him almost more than anything else he tried to achieve such an end. And this, there was nothing to describe it beyond incredible and perhaps the best experience he’d ever been given.

Because this sort of attention, affection after so long of nothing of the sort felt like rain after the longest drought and he was almost sure that once he got a taste there would be no getting enough of it. Later, once they both settled he was sure that there would be contemplations and considerations of more because if the act itself was anything like the prelude then he was already sold. He was sure there would be more to learn also, and Fane was nothing but the most diligent of students.

He settled and her legs and body gripped him close, keeping him flush against her and for a moment he simply lost himself in the warmth of her but there was another overriding urge. More base and primal that urged him on not to mention her own encouragement, the rake of her nails that caused him to draw his hips back instantly feeling bereft as he left her before he thrust back in. Slow to begin with but with further encouragement he began to pick up a slightly faster pace as so many things raced through his mind. “You’re so beautiful-- so, so beautiful” it was the only thing he could think to utter right now because she did and a few harder kisses to her neck interspersed his words.

It was a crime of the highest order that no one had thought Fane important enough to be shown love or affection. That until now he hadn’t known the feeling of an intimate touch, or even a kiss until a few months ago. What kind of people had his parents been, what kind of life had he lived before she’d met him, when he’d been with the Order, to know nothing but duty? To know nothing of this?

Because this was more than she had ever imagined. More and everything all at once. All her other experiences fell away in the face of the feel of him inside her, in the readiness of his body against hers, the way he grew so still even as he trembled. She trembled too, and they both lingered there for a long moment, in that first breach of shared intimacy, pressed so close they might have been one person, savoring the feeling before other things took over.

And it wasn’t long after that the urge to move became too great, and when he did, Faye could only encourage him. The slow drag of him as he pulled nearly all the way out, leaving her feeling empty and barren until he pushed back to the hilt. She held tight against him as he started to move faster, one arm wrapped around him, fingers twisting in his hair while she buried her face in his neck. The other leaving red marks along his back and the curve of his ass as she tried to pull him closer, pull him deeper into her.

Every cant of his hips pushed a short, desperate sound up from her throat, as she was soon breathing hard, her body dotted with sweat. Her cries grew louder, more ragged, and more frequent - some sounding near painful - as he seemed to find a rhythm that suited them both. She could only press her own kisses to whatever skin her mouth could find as he called her beautiful again. Her own words, both affectionate and wanton, were lost in between the slide of their skin and the press of their mouths when she was finally able to capture his lips again.

To him this wasn’t a crime, it wasn’t anything other than a general fact that he’d thought typical for any in his position. There was no time for affection and showing care when you were quite literally reconstructing your lives from the ruin and shambles that had been made of them when everything was taken from you. It was a rather hypocritical mindset considering what the Empire had done prior to its destruction but it was all he’d known, he’d only been six when everything in his life had been uprooted. Everything he’d known snatched away. It bred anger and resentment; both of which had been swayed and influenced by the Order to their own end. To keep him in check and toeing the line to their own end. One day he might tell her, and if she asked he likely would also but she had yet to inquire and as such he kept such matters to himself.

They had finally crossed the line that up until now they had been precariously dancing along the edge of, never quite daring to cross due to the uncertainty of what lay on the other side. Or well, uncertainty on his behalf because a part of him worried that he might disappoint her and disappointment did not bode well for him. He could only hope she would understand if things didn’t go quite as smoothly as she might’ve been used to, she had been patient so far but kissing and this were worlds apart. But there was also no helping the thoughts coming to mind, the wonderment when he pictured what it might be like to be under her, behind her and any other way they might be able to do this because if it was as incredible as this was then he wanted it all. Wanted her.

The haze had settled over him, wanton desire and lust fuelling his determination to meet her request of more. She could have everything he had for all he cared, so long as it meant that this didn’t end any time soon. Not the rake of her nails; scrabbling for purchase at his back urging him on for more, to move deeper or the other wound tight in his dark hair.

His breathing was short and harsh and when the tug of her hand brought him up to kiss her again and he let her tug at him willingly, noting what she wanted in the hopes of memorising for future use. Typically, the sounds she was making would have made him slow at least to check on her but he was lost in the press of their skin and the fierce devotion melting into every press of their lips. It wasn’t perfect, it was messy and real and that in itself made it all the better in his mind but he wanted all of her. Wanted so much more and on one harder stroke he accented it with a sharp bite of his teeth into her lip, tugging away and unable to help the smirk on his features as crimson began to flow and his hand moved, the rough pad of his thumb dragging over her swollen lips.

He could never disappoint her. He hadn’t so far, and Faye had no idea how he could possibly do so in the future. Perhaps it was optimistic of her. Or perhaps it was something deeper than that. Something neither of them could put a name to yet. Just like the feeling that washed over Faye as she held him close, turned his mouth to hers, pulled his body deeper into her own inside the welcoming circle of her thighs. It was unnameable, but it felt right. Felt like coming back to a place you didn’t know you missed.

Her own mind wandered too. But only to the same places as Fane’s. Wondering what it would be like for him to flip her on her belly, or set her on the counter. Or even what it would feel like for him to taste her like he’d wanted. She shivered at the thought, and hoped to be able to find out. If not tonight, then at a later date. Right now, the sharp pant of his breath called her back to the here and now. As did the way he started to move faster and with more determination. It wasn’t perfect, but Faye didn’t expect it to be. Just as she didn’t expect anything between them - whatever their relationship might become after tonight - to be perfect. Far from it. They were two imperfect, emotionally scarred people living in the middle of a war. Each with their own jobs - important ones - outside of this room and away from each other. It would be the opposite of easy no matter how they chose to more forward.

The way they kissed stole Faye’s breath. Even if it hadn’t rushed out of her lungs with each thrust of his hips, the way his mouth moved over hers was enough on it’s own to make her forget how to breathe. She was so focused there, on how he was trying to give her what she asked for, that the bite to her lip took her by surprise. Faye gasped, her hands tightening against him. She opened her eyes where they’d been closed. Warm blood ran down her chin, and she watched him closely as he brought his thumb up to brush over the wound. Something deep inside Faye stirred to life, and she captured his thumb in her mouth, sucking the blood from the pad. When she released him, she leaned up to capture his mouth again, hands stroking over his face, trying to pull him closer. She felt like she’d been marked. Marked as his. And that gave her a heady feeling, that only the press of his body inside of her and against her could match.

They were two separate people, but with time and some graft on their respective parts they would be able to learn how to help the other shoulder or even offload some of their respective burdens. It was a learning curve, at least it was for him to trust someone enough to even let them in enough to permit them to help. But perhaps Faye and this and everything else she gave to him would be a turning point. After all, the night was barely even beginning, and if their minds were already drifting along similar tangents it didn’t mean there wouldn’t be time for further explorations. After all, Fane was already certain this was not nearly enough to sate him.

He couldn’t help but grin just a little smugly as he drew back enough to look at her, to admire the red trail from her lip and down her jaw that he pressed with the pad of his thumb. Their eyes met and something sparked, some instant and deep-rooted connection that stirred something in him he didn’t quite know how to name. There wasn’t enough time to contemplate it anyway, not as she took his thumb into her mouth and sucked it clean the sight and swipe of her tongue surprisingly pleasing to him. He felt inclined to praise her then, to tell her how good she was but she was pulling him in again for another desperate kiss the taste of crimson fresh on her lips and he flicked his tongue out to swipe it away the intensity notching up to the point his nose bumped against her own and their teeth occasionally knocked leading to a muffled bit of laughter.

And though he was enjoying this, he felt compelled to try something new and in an instant had gripped her tight and rolled them over the sheets tangling under them as he settled on his back. He was settled just as she sank down on the stiff length of his cock and the new angle caused him to groan audibly back arching up slightly hands moving to grab her breasts and squeeze them more roughly.

Between the two of them, they had most always gone with what felt right. With what seemed the correct course for whatever the situation might be. And so far it had worked well. So why change things? Go with what felt right. And for Faye, this felt very, very right. She would never do anything that didn’t. And while some things may have required a slight push, or a step outside comfort zones, it always held that sense of being okay.

Faye wasn’t sure where her limits were. It had been a long, long time for her, after all, and while she was ready and willing to give him whatever he wanted, and to use up every moment of time they had before tomorrow, she wasn’t certain about herself. Though right now she never wanted this to end. She wanted more. And he was certainly giving it to her in the sting of his teeth against her lip. Flushed and panting, their eyes met as she swiped the blood from his thumb, and something inside her shook loose, rose to met that part of him that she saw rising behind the dark pools of his eyes. It stirred in her chest, rumbling and purring and when he flipped them over and she sank back down onto him, their positions reversed, she let out a moan as her head fell back.

Her body adjusted quickly to the new angle, to the deeper press of him inside her, and she didn’t bother to worry about the sheets as she followed every instinct her body was screaming at her and started to move. His hands rose to cover her breasts as she rolled her hips. The sensation was a fullness she’d never felt before, and not just physically, as the length of him slid nearly all the way out and back in with a controlled sway of her body. “Fuck…” Faye breathed, covering his hands with her own over her chest. She was starting to sweat, and her hair stuck to her neck and shoulders in wavy ringlets. Blood still ran in a thin trail down her chin, and droplets dotted her chest as her head fell back again.

The new position let him rake his eyes over her body, appreciating every inch of skin on display and the sight of her made his mouth water while he looked at her like she was the most luxurious feast for a starving man. His dark eyes bright and attentive despite the way his pupils were blown. Her hands raised to cover his own which by now were fondling her breasts as they bounced with every sharp ruck of their hips and sway of her body over his, rubbing them and teasing the dark buds of her nipples with his every and entirely undivided attention.

He swallowed thickly, finding himself wanting to suck on her skin, to taste her again and nose in her warmth. But he was lost in the feeling of surrender. Of allowing her to set the pace, having given over control entirely considering how she was riding him. Occasionally the pace changed, switching and shifting from hard and fast to slow and soft and more than once she rode him until his cock almost slipped out of her slick cunt. Every act made his abdomen tighten and one hand finally slipped to grip her hip pulling her down to grind and swivel her hips, this particular act making his own head tip, eyes rolling back into his head as a string of curses and moans fell from his lips.

The molten heat that was flooding through his veins was starting to build and settle, and his nails dug half-moons into her warm flesh. “You look so good like that--” he gasped lowly when his eyes managed to open, his brow and hair damp with sweat “Gods you look so divine...” Another firm sway of her body had his mouth gaping and his body tensing again, the shaft of his cock throbbing “that’s it-- fuck-- that’s it darling.”

The way he looked at her was nearly as enthralling as the way he felt beneath her. Never in her life had anyone ever looked at Faye like Fane was gazing up at her now. There wasn’t a word that came to mind, though she was admitedly distracted at the moment. It was almost… powerful, in a way. Especially as she watched his face, watched the response of his body to her own. She could feel the tremble and tighten of his muscles, the way his hands would squeeze her breasts just a bit harder when she moved in a way he particularly liked.

He looked resplendant spread out beneath her. His control, his tightly knit persona, and his quiet demeanor had been replaced by something else. Something that was almost feral. Something that was made of instinct and need and the wildness that lived inside everyone, but was buried too deep for most to find. His wildness was there, in the darkness of his eyes and the stain of her blood on his lips. In the shudder of his breath and the sudden grip of his hands against her hips, holding her against him while his cock throbbed inside her.

Faye reached out as he stretched beneath her, stroking her hand along the line of his neck. She wanted to taste him again, but he held her fast. So Faye could only move her hips against him. Huffing a breath as his nails dug into her soft skin. When he turned back, flushed and damp and singing her praises, Faye smiled down at him. “Tell me what you want…” she breathed, taking his encouragement moments later to continue exactly what she was doing. Slowly, she moved over him, her belly tightening as her clit brushed against him with every roll of her hips. “Tell me what you need…”

Faye wanted to see him cum. She needed to see it. And while her own climax wasn’t all that far away, she wanted him to go first. She wanted to see him come undone, feel him inside her as it rolled over him, and know that she had brought him there. She had given that to him. Then they could worry about her.

There wasn’t anything she was doing he didn’t like, though idly he noted this wasn’t the greatest spot to taste her but he could settle for the sight of her rising above him. The sight of her taking her pleasure just as much as he gained his own from this act. His hands smoothed down over the curves of her hips, curling into her body and gripping with such a force there would certainly be marks left afterwards. He was learning certain things he hadn’t entirely realised about himself this evening it seemed, namely, that he rather enjoyed something a little less simple and something that perhaps toed darker urges.

His neck was a long line, the muscles and tendons taut and sinewy in his attempt to breathe combined with how he was stretched out under her. If his words weren’t encouragement enough for her the way his hips actively rolled and rocked to meet her own certainly would be. He was breathing hard now, chest rising and falling between the praises leaving his lips but the coil was winding ever tighter and he felt him fast approaching an end. “You-- all I need is you, all I want is you” he managed to get out voice strained as his body started to tense.

It wasn’t much longer before he finally gave in to the overwhelming urge to let go, he’d wanted to try and make this last for as long as he could. Eventually his cock throbbed and his muscles banded taut as he came with a cry, pulsing deep inside her and shivering pleasantly at the boneless feeling starting to wash over him as he sagged down; dark hair damp with sweat and sticking up at odd angles from where it had been tousled by the act of rolling them along with her own hands. His eyes were closed for a time as he tried to regain a control over his breathing, his hands still holding her hips but more loosely now as his movements began to slow. An arm wiped over his brow, dropping overhead as he looked up at her a breathless laugh leaving him the act serving to soften his typically stern features considerably. “I never knew-- it was that good.”

Let him mark her. Let him leave bruises and handprints and teeth marks over every inch of her body. Let others look at her and know they came from him. That of all the people on the base, all the people he’d met in his lifetime, Fane had chosen to let his guard down with her. To be vulnerable with her. To give his body to her. And Faye had done the same. She had done the same, and she didn’t care who knew it.

There was a point where Faye knew they were nearing the end. At least for right now. His movements came faster and his breathing turned rapid and uneven. She braced herself against his chest with her hands, the overheated flesh slick with sweat as she watched his face as her body moved against him. His words held a weight all their own, and as much as Faye wanted to capture his mouth right then, she couldn’t. Because he was right there, and if she stopped now it would be lost. So she kept up the relentless roll of her hips, taking him in as deep as she could and feeling her own release growing closer.

And when he finally came, if was with a cry that Faye felt deep inside herself. Stirring that same place that had been brought to life by the sight of her blood on his lips. “That’s it… god, that’s it…” she crooned as she felt the warmth pulse inside her as his hands gripped hard against her. Faye kept moving, drawing out every last ounce of the orgasm, every last tremor, every last moan and gasp. When it finally subsided, and she could feel the warmth leaking out of her, Faye hummed in contentment, even though she was still left wanting. But she slipped forwards onto his chest, panting and sweating and grinning back at him. “I love it when you laugh,” she said against his neck. “And I’d forgotten how good it could be.” Her voice was sleepy now, despite still being near the edge of her own release. “I guess… that means you liked it though?”

Unlike Faye, he still felt the need to maintain certain boundaries outside of the confines of their quarters. There were too many prying eyes and as she had generally come to realise, PDA wasn’t something he was still entirely comfortable with. Not unless he was the one who chose to initiate it. Not that he cared so much as who knew, it was more than he cared about who saw. He didn’t like people knowing his vulnerabilities and Faye was fast becoming one of those he was starting to realise.

Her encouragement caused him to try and push on for as long as he could, until he quite literally sank under her his eyes rolled shut until his mind eventually came back to him. Feeling the weight of her leaning down and settling against him their bodies flushed and warm and Fane flashed his teeth in a lazy grin of his own. “Guess it’s another thing you tend to provoke,” his fingers dragged gently up the curve of her spine before his palm pressed flat into the small of her back smoothing her skin.

“Are you okay?” he asked after a moment of quietness between them, looking at her with a curious and slightly concerned expression especially when he let his hand press over the marks he’d dug into her hips. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything you want me to do?” he asked wanting to ensure that this had been just as good for her as it had been for him, and if he was honest despite the sated bonelessness he couldn’t help his curiosity over what else he might be able to do for her.

Faye knew he didn’t care for displays of affection around others. She tried to respect that, and keep the professional boundaries in place when they were anywhere that wasn’t private. But sometimes she couldn’t help it. Sometimes she just wanted to touch him. It was never anything over the top, but she might brush his hand when they were stood close together, and she had even stolen a kiss once when they were alone in a corridor. But for the most part she kept to herself, knowing how he felt about it.

But they weren’t out in public right now. They were here. And there was no one else. There was nothing between them but skin and sweat and the desire to bring each other pleasure. And as Fane found his own, holding out as long as he possibly could before he was spent, Faye smiled contentedly. Laying against him, she could feel him smiling. “I think it might be my favorite,” she said of his smiling. “Though this is hard to beat.” She pressed a kiss to his sweat-slick neck as his hands smoothed down her back.

“I’m okay,” she assured him. “I liked it.” He asked what he could do for her, and Faye pushed up just a bit. She still felt the tightness in her belly that had yet to find release. Her body still wanted him. So after a moment, she slid down beside him, taking his hand in her own. Bringing it to her mouth, she kissed his knuckles before spreading their palms over her belly. “Touch me?” she breathed, leaning in to nose along his jaw. “Touch me like you did before…”

With time he would grow more used to and comfortable with the concept and act of affection. It was just that currently the topic was still something he struggled to openly broach. Though what they had done, and shared tonight was certainly paving the way for him to realise that it wasn’t the end of the world to enjoy himself every now and again. Though actually getting him to go through with it was another thing entirely.

Feeling her nuzzle against his neck he stretched out, lifting an arm overhead while the other stayed wrapped arouund her grumbling a little in a contented fashion as his back clicked and he settled again. His head turned, the rough stubble of his jaw pressing into her damp curls breathing her in quietly. “This is very hard to beat,” he agreed voice a low rumble as he stifled another chuckle in the press of his mouth to her head.

“Yeah?” she propped herself up and Fane’s head tilted as he gazed up at her trying to figure out what she wanted. He wasn’t sure what else he could do for her and he felt a little-- embarrassed that he hadn’t been able to pleasure her as she had him. He let Faye take his hand, the warmth of her lips pressing to the hard ridges of his knuckles before sliding it down her belly and Fane pushed himself up onto his side, nudging her to lie back as his hand slipped between her legs; the apex of which shone with evidence of what they’d just done. Leaning over he dipped his head pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, trailing down her neck and collarbone until he could suck a nipple into his mouth while his fingers set about slowly stroking over her leaking entrance. He did this for a little time before an earlier thought came to him and his chin lifted along with his hand which he brought to his mouth to lick them off.

The taste of her made him groan around his fingers and if he hadn’t just come he was sure this would’ve done him in alone. A thought came to him and he looked at her, unsure but curious “can I-- taste you?”

Now that they had crossed this particular threshold, Faye hoped he would see that not only could it be fun and feel good, but it could take away some of the stress he carried on his shoulders constantly. Because he did. He carried so much weight, and she did too, but they were different in that Faye seemed to find relaxing easier than Fane. Though he was slowly coming around. And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to do this again. That it didn’t make her feel things she couldn’t explain, things she didn’t want to put a name to just yet. Things that scared her just a little, but things she wasn’t about to give up.

Faye closed her eyes as his warm breath moved over her temple. It felt good, despite the ache in her belly that had yet to be fully satisfied. This was just as intimate to Faye. Or very nearly so. This gentle aftermath of soft words and touches. It was something she’d rarely shared, and Fane had never shared. “It is,” she smiled.

He asked his question, and Faye knew he might think he hadn’t done a good job. “Yeah… it was…” She shook her head, her smile turning shy. “Never felt anything like it.” And that was the truth. She had never felt that sense of… connection, that she felt with Fane. And he had pleasured her, very much. She just hadn’t quite reached her peak yet. So as he acquiesced, she lay back, drawing a short breath as his fingers slipped back over her sensitive flesh. He kissed her gently, and she turned her face towards him, her lips parting as he moved down to take her breast in his mouth. Her hands carded in his hair, and she hummed her approval at how he touched her. It felt… god it felt good.

When he pulled his hand away, Faye opened her eyes to watch as he sucked the shine from his fingers. Her bottom lip worked it’s way between her teeth as he asked his second question. Her heart fluttered in her chest. No one had ever done that to her before. “Yeah,” she nodded, feeling a bit nervous but not about to tell him no.

He was still doing his best to learn, but for that he sometimes needed her prompting or guidance. Not to say he was entirely clueless, he could tell when she was enjoying something but there were things he wanted to learn that took time and patience to understand. Such as this, because while she’d given him the chance to experience something he’d never felt before he wanted to do the same for her. So her instruction to touch her as he’d done earlier was closely heeded, but then he remembered kissing her neck and tasting her skin and wondering what she truly tasted like.

So his fingers took their time, lazy and deliberate while she caressed his hair and stroked his face while humming her approval. But it didn’t change the stirring urge that was creeping up. Something had been unlocked earlier and had been present in his mind ever since it had even come up. But as she bit her limp he looked at her, eyes growing a little more serious despite how he continued to suck and toy the sensitive bud of her nipple as his fingers slipped over her to circle her clit slowly “definitely?” He was giving her a choice, it was something he would always actively make an effort to do; give her a chance to say no if she wasn’t sure or entirely comfortable.

It didn’t matter what he wanted in the end, only that she enjoyed it and wanted what he had in mind.

Fane caught on to everything he did with a quickness that never failed to surprise Faye. And this was no exception. Since the first time she’d kissed him, he’d become aware of the way she responded to things she liked, and to things she didn’t. Though he was adept at knowing what she liked as well. Faye tried to do the same, following the responses of his body to figure out what he liked and didn’t. Tonight was a first for them both, and while the things that had been obviously pleasurable for him would never leaves Faye’s mind, there was still much to explore.

Things neither of them knew they wanted. Things neither knew they enjoyed yet. But Faye was more than willing to travel that path with him. There was no interest in anyone else. Faye doubted she could ever get so close to another man. Or another person in general. Fane just seemed to… know her. Understand her. She didn’t question it. Because she didn’t want to lose it.

“Definitely,” she assured him with a smile. Now that the subject had been broached, Faye felt an urge to know what it was like. To know what it felt like to have his mouth on her, where they’d been joined so closely only a few moments before.

He couldn’t think of doing this or even experiencing this with anyone else, and why would he want to let his mind drift to such things anyway? To let that happen would not only be rude, inconsiderate but a generally dick move especially considering it was Faye he was here with right now. It was Faye that he was sharing these experiences with and frankly only her he wanted to continue experiencing these things with and not only because it felt incredible but because she seemed to understand. Not everything, considering he hadn’t told her all there was to know about his life, but enough that she was willing to be patient as much as they could be.

With her assurance given with a smile this time Fane felt a little happier, how she’d worried at her lip had made him slightly concerned he might’ve suggested something she wouldn’t or didn’t like. Which was part of the reason he gave her an option to backtrack if she so wished. But she made her mind up and Fane pushed himself up from where he rested, stealing a kiss from her before he slid down the bed kissing over the softness of her belly and occasionally pausing to suck marks into her skin more confident regarding this now and working to build her back to the edge she’d been on.

His mouth gradually moved lower, nudging her legs apart to accommodate for more room and now that he was knelt he could see the evidence of what they’d done coating her thighs and making them shine. “You look so good,” he uttered after taking a short breath his ravenous eyes meeting her own before he let his body flatten, hands rubbing her thighs affectionately before he pressed a kiss to the apex of one and then the other. “Tell me how it feels? If you like it?” he murmured after the small tender pieces of affection and only when he was sure she was comfortable and settled did he lean in, tongue flicking out and dragging a long stripe against her entrance, cautious at first and barely a brush to see how she was but wicking a little their combined arousal from her and making him groan as the taste filled his mouth and he paused glancing up at her before repeating the act again a little more firmly this time.

Faye watched him as he made his way down her body, missing the taste of his mouth but unable to help herself when it came to wanting more. Her belly flexed as he pressed a kiss to it, and she opened as he asked her to, feeling slightly shy as he reached his destination. She blushed at what he said, and it eased her nerves just a bit as their eyes met and she saw the way he wanted her. Even now, after he had already reached his own climax.

Faye nodded, legs shaking slightly as she lay back on the pillows. She watched him though, unable to tear her eyes away. At least until he flicked his tongue across her slick flesh. She sucked in a sharp breath, and her back arched a bit as her hands twisted in the sheets. And then he did it again, and Faye moaned. “That feels… it feels amazing… don’t stop…” she breathed.

His breathing had grown shallow, struggling to focus on anything beyond the overwhelming and mouth-watering taste of her one taste had been all it took. Emboldened by her words and the sounds she was making he opened his mouth just a little more, using his fingers to part her while he tended to her rather diligently, the rough scrape of his short beard rubbing against her sensitive skin when he pressed in against her more insistently. Her moans filling the room told him she was building again as did the way her legs clamped tighter.

Occasionally he dragged his tongue in a lazy zig-zag motion, before he sucked at the swollen sensitive bud of her clit curious and testing different things to see what she liked. But all he knew was that “I want to hear you,” he murmured in an almost sing-song fashion before diving straight back in with a new sense of gusto and confidence that hadn’t caused him to be quite so been earlier. But this, having her like this made him feel-- He felt incredible. Powerful that he was capable of doing this and his nose nudged her clit as his tongue flicked out again but instead of dragging across her he pushed inside her fucking her with his tongue and alternating this with little lazier sucks before he would shift and kiss her thigh leaving wet, sticky marks that shone in the low light of the cabin.

Now and then he bit down on her thighs, leaving red marks in his wake but always returning to that spot between her legs he found he enjoyed rather a lot. His fingers slid down then stroking the wet mess he’d made, not a moment later two slipped almost effortlessly deep inside of her while his head bowed and he sucked on her throbbing clit. “Gods-- I want to hear you, I want to taste you-- I want everything,” he muttered his breath hot and wet where he panted nosing the soft curls as he kissed her belly which flexed and jumped much like her body under each drag and crook of his fingers.

Faye’s mind was losing the capacity for coherent thought. If she didn’t know better, she would have called Fane a liar for saying he’d never done this before. Of course, she never had either, at least the part where his face was buried between her legs. Dear Lord where had this been all her life? Her hands tightened in the sheets as she felt the slid of his fingers that preceded the warmth of his mouth. The rough scrape of his stubble only added sensation to her already overwhelmed body. So much that she couldn’t help the way her thighs tried to close around him, to trap him there and never let him leave. She had no control over her reactions, over the way her body rose up from the bed, back arching as he explored her more deeply.

“Fuck…” Even the low, gravelly rumble of his voice made her moan. Faye could probably have gotten off on that alone, depending on what he was saying. Perhaps they could try it at some point in the future. Though right now, Faye’s mind was here. On the press of his tongue and the bite of his teeth. The pressure of his fingers as they - gods above - pushed inside her. If anyone had been walking by outside his door, they might have heard her. But Faye didn’t care. Let them. Let them know she was in here with him and he was pulling such sounds from her. Let them know she was his. Because she was. Completely. Even if she didn’t realize it yet. Whether or not he felt the same, she didn’t know either. But there was no one else. How could there be? Who else could know her so well? Who else could put up with her chattiness, her quirks, her moods that ranged from childlike giddiness to dark and sour, and her pig-headed stubborness?

No one, that’s who. Except Fane. And while none of this crossed her mind right now, with his fingers deep inside her and his wicked mouth around the hot spot of her clit, it would hit her one day soon. And there would be no going back.

But right now, she was close again, so close, and as he nosed along her belly, she slid a hand into his hair and did as he asked. Faye doubted she’d ever made such sounds in her life. Needy sounds; sounds that were lewd and almost painful in their desperation. She was a quivering mess beneath him, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care one bit. Not as she begged him for release, not as she murmured how good it was and how good he made her feel… and when she finally crested, bright white and searing behind her closed eyes, it was his name she cried out as her body arched beneath him. Her entire being tensed, and her thighs clamped tight around him as her head fell back and her fingers gripped like a vice in his hair and in the sheets.

And when she came down, she was boneless and panting, covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and only had eyes for him. “Kiss me…” she said in a release of breath, reaching for him with trembling hands.

He was thankful for the broad width and strength of his shoulders which kept her thighs from entirely crushing him against her, not that he would have minded he found himself thinking as he took his time to pleasure her. Finding he rather greatly enjoyed how this simple act seemed to make her writhe and squirm, just for him and a flare of possessiveness overcame him. He found right there that he didn’t want to share this, share her with anyone else. Not that he felt inclined to tell her this unsure how that would be received all things considered.

They were in a war after all, there was no time for feeling or behaving like this. Selfishly. Even if for once in his life Fane felt inclined to do and just that. His thoughts caused him to slow a little, but the arch of her back and pressure of her legs trying to draw and keep him close brought him out of them.

But that was a matter for another time, all he wanted right now was to give her the same pleasure she’d given to him not all that long ago. She obliged his request and he smiled against her, resuming his affections easily his mouth and fingers working in tandem to build her until she reached that edge before pushing her over. He worked her through the high, grunting a little against her as her thighs tightened again but his fingers slipped out replaced by the hungry lave of his tongue as he drank down every ounce she had to give wanting everything she had just as she had done to him.

The grip of her fingers in his hair were painful, not that he found he minded. In fact, he rather liked it and her request caused him to finally lift his head, mouth, beard and chin glistening wetly while he breathed shallowly. Her request didn’t need to be repeated before he was crawling up the bed, shifting to brush her face with his hand and catch her mouth with his own in a firm and slower kiss.

Faye didn’t know what was going to happen tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that. Soon she would get in her fighter and put their current home at her back as they tried to take the Order base. Would they succeed? Faye didn’t know that either. But what she did know, what sat so firmly in her chest that she wondered if it hadn’t always been there, was that she would come back to him. She would always come back to him.

He was the only person she wanted to come back to.

What that meant, Faye didn’t know that either, but she let it sink it. She let it take her over, the warmth spreading out and consuming her. And as he rose from the cradle of her thighs - to touch her so gently and then press his mouth against hers - Faye knew this was something more than friendship. She kissed him back, reveling in the heavy weight of him resting against her, and when they pulled apart, Faye rested her forehead against his.

“That was… amazing…” she breathed, snuggling against him more firmly.

Right now all that mattered to Fane was the fact that she was here, and that for the time being they were safe and the world outside the door for a time wouldn’t intrude. For now it was simply them, and they had taken the time to share something that Fane didn’t truly know how to put words to or even if he wanted to put words to it. He knew the world would break through eventually but for now he was willing to ignore it and cherish this time for what it was worth.

So he broke loose from the cradle of her thighs, as much as he wanted to stay right there, and moved back up his weight settling down against her comfortably. When their foreheads pressed together Fane could only smile his nose lightly brushing her own.

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly feeling content and pleasantly sated after everything “I never knew it was that-- Incredible.” Another kiss was pressed to the corner of her mouth as his arm shifted to slip under her back and keep her close though there was barely an inch between them anyway with how he had come to rest against her. There was no wiping the smile from his lips as he settled against her, the warmth of their bodies causing him to hum low in his throat. “Is it always like that?”

Faye let herself be pulled in, and they twined around each other like serpents, warming themselves in the other’s presence. Her body ached, but it was the good kind of ache. The kind of ache that left you sated and wanting to do it all over again. But not just yet. Right now, Faye was perfectly content. She shifted, making herself comfortable against him as he asked his question.

Though for a moment it made Faye uneasy. Not because of anything he had done. But because of what the answer was. “Not always, no. Sometimes it’s… awful. Like with… with someone you don’t…” She paused, not sure of the word she should use. “With someone you don’t care about. Someone who doesn’t care about you.” It was obvious she was talking about her time in captivity. “But other times it’s good. When it’s with someone you like. But… like this? I’ve never felt anything like this.” Her voice was still soft, and sounded a bit awestruck. She stroked a hand down his arm, over the fine hairs there, over the dip of muscle that was his bicep. Faye truly thought she could look at him all day and never get tired.

For a moment it had slipped his mind, and the tension that jolted through her body was something he could feel almost immediately and he immediately knew his mistake. But she didn’t push him away, for which he was thankful but if she had he would have moved as she wished. He grew quiet as she spoke, dipping his head to press a few more soft kisses to the underside of her jaw; deliberately affectionate to hopefully put her at ease despite the topic she was talking about. Though when she mentioned never having felt like this--

He didn’t know what to say, and her hand stroking down his arm drew him out of his surprise. “Really? Not with… anyone?” he wasn’t sure if the sentiment pleased or terrified him simultaneously. It was probably a bit of both if he was being honest though pride stopped that from happening. He shifted a little, arm tightening just a little more securely around her. “Does that mean we can do this again?” he asked with the barest hint of cheekiness in his tone as he nosed against her warm and damp skin.

Talking about it wasn’t as hard as it used to be. Most people on the base knew what had happened to her, but not the details. Only Fane knew that. And so talking about it with him was fairly easy, though she couldn’t help the bad memories it dredged up. Memories of losing her autonomy. Losing any choice over her body. What she wore. What she ate. What she consented to sexually. Which was nothing. Never once did she consent when it came to Jevara. She’d merely borne it.

But here… here she was safe. Here she had choice. Here she had respect. Here Fane wanted her absolute consent, just as she wanted his. The affection was welcome, and she tilted her head a bit, humming her approval. “Really,” she said to his question. “I’ve never…” Now it was Faye who was at a loss for words. They stuck on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t know what they were. She felt what she wanted to say, but expressing it was more than she could do right now. “No one’s ever made me feel like you do.” It was honest enough, and seemed to suit.

Though she laughed a bit as his arm tightened around her. “It means we can definitely do this again…”

Typically, Fane tried not to bring up Jevara it was simply easier for the both of them though mostly for Faye’s sake rather than his own. Jevara was a slimy git and just one of the many scumbags trying to capitalise their gains off of the suffering of innocents elsewhere. The only thing Fane might have thanked him for was the opportunity to be introduced to Faye, which had led to their friendship and in turn led them here.

Which was partly why he asked her so many times whether she was okay, or what she enjoyed. Not to mention the most important being what she wanted. After all, having no consent before or the last time she’d been in a situation like this Fane didn’t wish for her to slip back into those times or those feelings. Again, when she tried to explain what she felt Fane wasn’t sure what to say about it and he settled for pressing little displays of affection into her skin; branding her with kisses. “Well I’ve never felt like this with anyone else either so…” he didn’t know what that meant, but it was just as much the truth as what she had said to him.

“Mm, good because I really, really want to do this over and over again” he grinned into her neck glad to hear her laugh after everything.

Faye wasn’t one to believe in Fate or Destiny, or any of those things. But… she did believe that she was meant to be on Canto that day. She believed that she was meant to be there, and she was meant to meet Fane. He had been her savior, for lack of a better word. And while she hadn’t trusted him at first - or only trusted him marginally more than Jevara - it hadn’t taken long for him to earn it. Not that he had been trying. Fane wasn’t the type of person that really cared if others trusted him or not. It wasn’t up to him to sway them. But the people that did trust him did so unfailingly. Fane gave them no reason not to. Just as he had Faye.

“I guess we can… figure things out together then?” she asked. It was a bit hesitant, the lingering feeling of not knowing what this was hanging on the edges of her words. But it wasn’t hesitant in a way that said she didn’t want this. Because she did. She wanted this. Wanted him. And whatever came with it.

His stubble on her neck tickled, and she snorted another laugh. “Me too… and we have all night, hm?”

Fane would never claim to be anyone’s saviour, there was far too much blood on his hands for him to ever feel comfortable in taking that particular title for himself. No, Fane was simply a man that was trying to do his best with the hand he’d been dealt in life. To do better than what he’d been raised for and encouraged to pursue in life, because there had to be more to life than the order and formality he’d been taught and drilled to observe. Which was precisely what Faye, and even his crew on occasion had presented to him.

The hesitance was something he understood, because honestly it was something he felt too. Right now there were too many unknowns and things he wasn’t sure how to put into words that he could well and truly make sense of them. But so far they had made sense of things together and it made the most sense for them to continue doing so. Together. So as she suggested exactly that Fane gave her a smile, fingers curling lightly under her jaw and pulling her in for a softer kiss before murmuring “yeah, sounds good.”

Her laugh made him smile more broadly against her lips “mm, and I have full intent to make the absolute most of it.”

Faye knew a bit about where Fane had come from. Not many specifics, but she knew that he had wanted something better. Something more. And that was part of the reason she tried to show him that life was about more than duty and fighting and war. Because what was all that for? If not what came after? Faye didn’t want to fight for the rest of her life. She wanted a home one day. A family. Someone to spend her life with; a peaceful, fulfilling life.

She wondered what Fane wanted after all this. She’d asked him, and he’d said he didn’t know. That he’d never considered it. Perhaps she would ask him again later, when the war was won (because they would win this) and they no longer needed to live every day waiting for the next battle or surprise attack. Perhaps when that wasn’t in front of him anymore he would know. Or at least be able to think about it.

But right now they were here, and he was smiling against her mouth. “Careful there, you might end up smilin’ in public, and then what would we do?” she teased lightly. They kissed slowly, and her hand traced down his ribs, feeling the ridges of bone beneath as she made her way to his hips. The skin there was soft, and she spent a while just playing over the crest of his hipbone, down the outside of his thigh and back up. She wanted to memorize what he felt like, in case it was a while before they could do this again.

Had she asked the answer would have been just as uncertain as it was before. Fane didn’t know what he wanted, or even where he wanted to take his life after this was all over. He’d been born and raised for war. To fight. To live and breathe the task that he was trained to do, whether that was infiltrating foreign nations or destabilising planetary systems. He could do it. But life after it all was said and done for? There only existed a large question mark there.

For now though he was content to make do with what they had here, and Fane settled into the warmth of her embrace and the stroke of her hands down his back and rubs. His breathing was shallow as he traced her jaw with his fingers soft and gently affectionate strokes between their slow kisses. He could grow used to this, the slow and gentle affections such a change from their typical fast pace lifestyles.

“No one would believe it… They’d think they were imagining it… Because I obviously never smile.” Eventually, Fane shifted from above her not wanting to crush her entirely under his weight and opted to shift beside her though an arm remained lazily looped around her waist. His eyes closed, though Fane wasn’t asleep simply settled in the comfortable post-coital warmth of the tangle of their bodies beside one another.

Faye would never deny that she loved the thrill of going fast. It was one of the reasons she’d become a pilot. She loved flying, and racing speeders, and jumping off high cliffs into the water… she liked adrenaline and adventure and everything that came with it. But this, this quiet solitude of just them, was fast becoming her new favorite pastime. Being a pilot was her job. Being a soldier was her job. And she wanted that. For now.

But this… being here with Fane… this was something that she quite suddenly realized she could want after all that was done. That he could very easily be a part of her ‘after.’ The thought took her breath a bit, and as he shifted she settled a bit more securely against him, her hold tightening ever so gently. What if… what if he didn’t want this after it was all over? What if he wanted to go back out there? Go back to the life he’d led before? A thousand ‘what if’s’ ran through Faye’s head, but she pushed them away as best she could. It was all hypothetical anyway. The war could last for years. Decades. They could die tomorrow.

She pushed that away too, not wanting to ruin this night with anything but good thoughts. “You never smile for them,” Faye said quietly, enjoying the weight of his arm around her. Her own eyes fell closed, not sleeping either, but merely absorbing the way he felt, the way his heart sounded in his chest, the way his breath moved so softly over her hair. Memorizing it.

And Faye found herself thinking - despite all efforts to the contrary - that if they did die tomorrow, at least they had had tonight.

Growing up there had never been the luxury of time for anything that might be considered fun. Unless perhaps you included flying simulations but even then they were drilled and done in such a sequential order that all the original fun was sapped away and it was just another part of the duty. The rush of adrenaline came in those moments when they landed on a new planet, unsure of what they would find and whether it would even be possible to settle there. Not to mention the near-death encounters on those very same planets they ventured onto to explore further.

He felt how her grasp suddenly tightened just a fraction more as he moved, and his head tilted looking at her curiously and wondering not for the first time tonight what was on her mind. Though he would have felt rather unsure had he known the truth. Mostly because he didn’t know what sort of life he might end up wanting if this all ever came to an end. Not that there was a guarantee of seeing it. They might all die in the next raid or the one after that. It was partly why he never tried to think of anything beyond that. There was no point dying with regrets of things that might’ve been at least if he didn’t think about them he didn’t have to technically regret them.

“They never give me a reason to smile,” he shrugged his shoulders slightly as they both settled more comfortably against one another; Faye with her head pillowed on his chest and him with his arm about her. After a while of silence Fane’s fingers trailed over her waist “tell me about the first time you flew a fighter hm? Where did you learn?”

Faye’s childhood had been filled with laughter and the wide-open spaces of the wheat fields of her home planet. Nothing sky above and earth below. Green and growing and alive. Her parents were farmers, but they were also part of their planet’s defense forces. Part time as they got older and started a family, but they still drilled on the regular and came to the defense of their home when things got hairy.

As for now, or what came after, Faye had always known what she wanted one day when she grew up. Home was green fields and fresh air, cold winters and warmer summers, mountains and trees and life. At least that’s how she had felt then, that home had to be a place. And she still felt that way for the most part. Though perhaps one day, home might come to mean something different.

But right now the base was home. And the future was uncertain. They would cross that bridge when they got there. Though Faye did know one thing: she wanted Fane in her life. In whatever for or fashion she could get him.

She smiled as he spoke again. “And I guess I do? I’ve seen you smile more tonight than the entire time I’ve known you. I must’ve done something right.”

She settled down, rubbing her foot lightly over the top of his as he held her close. His heart beat under her ear, slowing a bit as they lay still. “The very first time? I was… man, I was… eighteen? Nineteen maybe? Just old enough to join. My dad taught me how to fly speeders and a couple of smaller transports when I was younger, but an X-Wing is… something else entirely. We had an amazing instructor. Fought during the first war.”

“What about you? When did you first fly? I mean, you’re almost as good as me,” she grinned, the subject being one of constant light-hearted debate between them.

For a time Fane’s childhood had been grey steel and city streets and a sky that existed somewhere beyond the the constant wash of city fog. He saw his mother occasionally, whenever she happened to be on world. For the most part he’d been raised in his father’s charge and vaguely he could recall times in their home where his father was working in his office (a space he was never permitted to enter without first being summoned). He could remember having toy figurines of stormtroopers and battleships between lessons about historic and key military figures.

But that all vanished when the Empire collapsed. What Fane could recall of that day was how he’d just finished school and gotten in to sit down and start his homework when one of his father’s agents had rushed in. An occasion that never happened. He’d been told to pack a bag and that they would be leaving in five. Fane and the few possessions he’d had when he was six years old was ready in four. He could recall the agent ripping his uniform logo off his jacket before the pair of them had fled through back streets as the city imploded around them. People yelling, families screaming as they were torn apart as the order that had been instilled in the city that had never seen a single rebellion since the time of its conception fell apart.

Fane recalled the last sight of what he thought of as his beautiful homeworld being just before the lid was shoved atop the cargo crate he was loaded into; barely able to breathe before the ship took off. How he’d spilled onto the deck when they’d reached the rendezvous point with the few others who had managed to escape with their lives. He’d felt so much anger and resentment at the time and the Order had taken it, shaped it into making him a better soldier under his father’s careful guidance. Family was a very different concept in Fane’s eyes to what Faye likely knew but it was all he had.

“I guess you do,” he agreed quietly not saying anything more on the topic. She could take it how she wanted, but the fact he’d agreed spoke volumes. Still, he wanted t know more about her. Explaining his question into where she’d learned and once she started to speak he stretched an arm to fold behind his head out of the way while she rubbed her foot against his own. His eyes were closed against the light of the room and it gave him the opportunity to imagine a younger Faye, flying about on speeders.

“Almost as good as you… Pah. But the first time I flew? Oh-- well,” his eyes opened as he looked at the ceiling thinking and counting the years. “As soon as I could read I had an interest in fighters, it was one of the few things my father encouraged me to take an interest in.... Had I gone on to the Imperial Academy I would have received a formal flight education… But… after the uh--- rebellion on Vardos… We didn’t have anything really… Everything we did have, all our technology was gone…” everything was gone. “So um, I continued to study and some of our lab technicians who escaped with us managed to scrap together some simulators that started my lessons, most of my experience came from that… That was the first opportunity I got for the most part. My first experience in a proper ship?” Fane shrugged his shoulders a little “thirteen maybe fourteen? We managed to take over a pirate convoy to take their supply… But the pilot on our crew got injured so I had to take over in steering the ship back to rejoin our fleer… After that the ship became mine until we finally got our hands on some proper fighters…” When you were living the way Fane was, scavenging for survival waiting on the tech team to develop some revolutionary piece of equipment that might make it a little easier to survive the next day there was no age limit to what you could do. No capable hands would be spared if they could work and this was entirely normal for Fane.

Faye couldn’t fathom having a child and not wanting to be with them. To see them grow and learn and accomplish things. So she wouldn’t have understood how Fane’s mother could have left him like she did. Duty or not. There was no duty that was more important than one’s family. One’s children. And while children grew up and had lives of their own, and sometimes parents had to leave them for various reasons, they were supposed to come back. Parents were supposed to come back. Especially mothers.

Though Faye had known nothing but love and nurturing from her own family, so she was perhaps a bit naive. She knew not all families were like hers, and that children grew up differently all around the galaxy. But she still found it hard to fathom.

She hummed at his answer, smiling to herself that she could seemingly make the impossible happen. So she tucked the information away, saving it and the memory of his own smile for a time when she would need something happy to look back on.

Though her smiled faded as he went on, telling her the story of how he learned to fly, which was decidedly less happy than her own. “Vardos?” This was the first time Fane had mentioned his home planet. A planet Faye knew from reading about the first war. A fairly peaceful Imperial planet destroyed by the Republic. She pushed up on her elbow and looked at him. Not with pity or anything of the sort, but with something along the lines of an apology. “I’m sorry that happened to your planet. Not everything the rebels do is warranted.” She watched him for a moment longer before taking her place back. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you made it out.” Faye left off the fact that if he had gone to the Academy, they would’ve been enemies instead of… whatever they were to each other. She would have been shooting at him instead of kissing him.

Small mercies, right?

He went on, and Faye listened quietly. “You piloted a ship when you were fourteen?” There was a bit of amazement in her voice, and a great deal of respect. “Show off.”

“When I was fourteen I was planting wheat. So exciting, right?” Again, Faye knew everyone grew up differently. Fane’s childhood had been much different than her own. There was nothing wrong with it, and she wouldn’t judge him or think any less of him for it, but she did think he had perhaps missed out on a few things. “You said you were with you dad, right? Where was your mum?” Realizing that the question might not be appropriate - because what if his mum was dead? Or had been killed? - Faye sighed, feeling terrible.

“I’m sorry. That was… you don’t have to answer that.”

“You don’t need to apologise for it, it was a long time ago now...” Fane said as she commented on the Republic’s actions a small frown appearing on his features. Thirty odd years in fact. A long time by most standards and the same length of time the galaxy had known peace. Not that he’d known the same. Only the burning anger of wish for retribution that came with having something you cared for violently ripped away at such a young age. Not even Faye’s comment to say she was glad he made it out eased the latent anger the topic brought about in him. Knowing better than to open his mouth and say something he might regret he simply opted to say nothing.

“Fourteen thereabouts… Can’t remember exactly, it all blends into one between the flying and exploring” he shrugged his shoulders slightly never inclined to make a big deal of something that might be construed as impressive by any feat. He didn’t like to brag and therefore he tried not to, at least not directly. Still her mention of wheat brought a faint smile to his lips “well, wheat sure beats an entire landscape made entirely of transparisteel or duracrete so… I guess you got the better deal on that front.”

Vardos was the place he was born, though few happy memories truly existed there some but not many. He had better memories of his days at school than those he had made in his home. He recalled fragments of a comfortable life in a high-rising apartment where he’d lain awake at night, covers pulled up and the coloured illumination from the Kestro traffic trickling into the room despite the tint of the windows and attempt at soundproofing. He remembered the nights where the hum of the traffic was replaced by the sound of his parents arguing and bickering or making snide remarks about some trivial topic or another. They took their frustrations out on one another and he had merely been a side point in their consideration. They loved him, at least-- his mother loved him. What Fane’s father felt was a mystery to him beyond the disappointed look that plagued his childhood and drove him to develop an almost insatiable need to prove himself.

Any smile that might’ve existed prior had faded by the time she asked about his mother and in that moment the years fell away. He wasn’t here with Faye, he was four standing on the launch pad just outside the central military district of Kestro city beside his father. He’d just kissed his mother goodbye before she boarded the shuttle, set to head off on an advertising campaign for the Empire (of which it seemed more and more happened to be coming up as the arguments at home continued to grow worse Fane noticed). Not that he commented. He knew better than to speak out about things that weren’t his place. He was stood silently, watching as the shuttle lifted off bearing his mother to some distant system where he wouldn’t see her again for years and never again on his homeworld.

It’s best for everyone she’s gone. She’s a Alois in name only. We-- you and I are the true Alois, and Alois don’t cry do they?

No, sir Fane could recall a younger version of himself answering in a voice thick with unuttered cries of grief. A mantra that had followed him through the years, battle-hardened and forged himself in the towering shadow those words cast.

Feeling unbidden and rather unwanted emotion rising in him Fane merely shook his head not particularly wanting Faye to see the wash of emotion the topic brought about. But he’d spent long enough learning how to mask these things and so any tears that might’ve welled up were pushed back until he was left staring at the ceiling intensely. “She’s gone,” two words spoken with such finality that it said in itself that he wasn’t going to say any more than that. Though what gone meant was vague, and the word deliberately chosen for that exact reason. His mother was long since dead but at least this way, this way it left the potential for her to perhaps be out there somewhere amongst the stars. Living her life. Alive. Well. Happy.

“Still,” Faye said quietly. “I know not all Imperials were bad people. Even now. Just like all citizens of the Republic aren’t necessarily good people. I hate that bad things like that happen.” But she said nothing else on the matter. Faye knew that in war there was hardly ever black and white. There was good, and there was evil. And there were many shades in between. So many outcomes. So many different paths. Like when the notorious Sith Lord Darth Vader had turned on his Master at the end of the first war. He had been a good man in the end, deep in his heart, despite what the world - and his own anger and hatred - had done to him. Fane was a good man too. Though Faye suspected there was darkness in him too. Just as there was everyone. What that darkness might be… well, that was for another night.

Faye smiled. “I loved to explore when I was younger. All around my parent’s farm. Around the flight school. Around the bases. Even here I’ve been exploring. There’s a waterfall about a mile from here. Huge pool of crystal clear water at the bottom. We should go sometime. Swimming that is.” Faye had never heard Fane brag about anything. Though she would have told him that acknowledging his accomplishments wasn’t the same thing. People that had to brag about their deeds were seeking attention and praise. Fane never wanted either. A fact that Faye found appealing.

She laughed a bit as he gave her the better end of the landscape deal. “I guess so, yeah. Horizon of blue and green for as far as you could see in one direction. Mountains in the other. Sunsets… fireflies… all kinds of wildlife. It’s beautiful.” Her fingers stroked along his stomach. “Maybe you can come see it some day. When all this is over.”

The moment the question had come out of her mouth, Faye regretted it. It had just… happened. She was curious. And he was talking about his father, so why not ask about his mother? There was a subtle shift in his body beneath her, and while nothing drastically changed, she could tell the question affected him. Faye had never asked a lot of truly personal questions. She had never felt the need. Besides, it worked better to allow Fane to divulge things about himself as he saw fit and was comfortable with. Like his true name. Which Faye didn’t know. She had no reason to think that the man she knew was someone else altogether. Though if she’d thought hard on it she might have been unable to recall a Savin that had been, or was, a high-ranking Imperial officer. There were lists in the control room, of the ones they knew about, their stations and regular movements. And Faye wouldn’t find the name Savin even if she went back and double-checked.

So as the question about his mother was met with a long silence, and then a simple, short answer, Faye knew she’d erred. She didn’t raise up to look at him, allowing him the privacy of whatever emotions were playing across his face in combination with his words. She only blinked back her own tears at causing him pain, and pressed herself closer against him. Her hand found his around her waist, and she threaded her fingers through his. “I’m sorry,” she said once more, even softer than the last time.

The sort of exploration he spoke of wasn’t the kind that Faye described. He meant landing on abandoned planets with no idea of what the fuck was down there or around the next corner. More than once he’d almost lost his life on one of those expeditions before he was anything close to being considered an adult. But not wanting to sour the light-heartedness of what she described he merely made a low sound in his chest. “We’ll see, I’ve still got a new set of dispatches that need overseeing.” Not to mention the mission that was upcoming to take an Order base. If Faye wanted Fane to do anything of the sort with her she was going to have to drag him away to it which she probably would at some time or another.

He shivered a little under the stroke of her fingers over the sensitive expanse of skin but made no move to shift away from her touch in fact, he rather welcomed it finding the sensation of something so simple surprisingly comforting. His chest rose and fell with the rhythm of his breathing, a steady sync between the two. “It sounds it,” he could imagine such a sight though to the suggestion of seeing it one day he merely shrugged. They would just have to see whether they lived long enough for that.

One day, Fane would tell her the truth. Just as one day he would tell her more about his life and his childhood but finding a moment that felt right and a moment where he was comfortable enough to speak about such things were few and far between. That didn’t mean to say he never would. Just that-- for now it suited him better to not have to worry about such matters. He’d survived angry trade lords and space pirates, he’d survived the Order, storms, poisoning, monsters that defied explanation and so many more things besides all of those that it was no surprise he’d changed his name. Created and crafted a brand new identity to separate himself from that of his old life. He couldn’t very well go around calling himself Alois without bringing the might of the Order sniffing in this direction.

There was a reason he’d survived for so long.

He didn’t say anything more on the topic, not even as Faye pressed closer and apologised. She hadn’t meant to. He knew but it didn’t make it any easier for him to broach when he really wasn’t mentally prepared for it and after everything they’d done together tonight he wasn’t in any state to do anything other than turn over and rest now. But instead of doing as his body wished he stayed still, arm folded under his head while the other let her smaller fingers lace with his own. “S’late,” he finally said any earlier inclination towards spending the rest of the night exploring and experimenting well and truly killed in the aftermath of that particular topic “should probably get some sleep…”

Faye wasn’t one to shy away from the unknown or the dangerous. Flying into a firefight was both of those things. She’d never had the chance to do many on-planet missions that didn’t involve her unit providing air cover to the people on the ground. But that was what she did: she flew. She flew, and she protected her army’s soldiers by stopping airborne and land borne threats before they could reach them. Many times Faye had had close calls, but never anything that had caused her to fear for her life. Not anymore than she did every time she got into her X-wing. It was all a game of chance.

She hummed when he didn’t turn down her offer. She meant it. And she knew it might never happen. A lot of things might never happen. Though they couldn’t live their lives as if they were already over, could they? Otherwise what were they fighting for? “I know,” Faye said quietly. How could she forget about the upcoming mission? Especially when she would be the one leading the first wave of fighters?

Her mouth turned up into a gentle smile as he shivered beneath her fingers. She felt like she could lay here for hours just running her hands over him and never grow tired of it. “Just something for later. And it is. I miss it,” she said after a bit, her voice soft. She hadn’t been home in years. There was an ache in her chest for those green fields and the mountains that Faye couldn’t put words to. She realized after a moment that the ache also included Fane. But she tucked that away for much, much later.

Faye didn’t expect him to tell her his secrets. Or the reasons behind the things he did. If he wanted to he would. If he didn’t… well, Faye was hardly in a position to ask such things of him. They would go day by day, and take things as they came. Faye could wait. Because it was worth it to her. He was worth it.

Faye knew him well enough by now to know that the subject had touched a nerve. How deeply rooted and raw it was she had no idea. But enough to change the mood of the evening. There was a distance there that hadn’t been there before. Not between them really, but between anything personal that might be shared. At least for now. And for that Faye was ashamed of herself. The last thing she wanted was for him to equate tonight with a bad memory. To equate her with a bad memory. That thought hurt almost as much as the thought that she had caused him pain.

She squeezed his hand in agreement as he said they should sleep, and shifted against him. Faye wouldn’t ask about his mother again. Not for a long time. Because she didn’t want to ever hurt him. Even accidentally. Because this wasn’t just some one night stand to her. This was… so much more. So much more, and even now, when she couldn’t put a name to it, the thought of losing it already scared her to death.

The key to getting the truth from him, no doubt something Faye had already learned by now, was to give him time which meant patience was required along with the trust that he would speak when he felt ready and willing to do so. The information he gave about himself was few and far between but when he felt ready and willingly inclined to share it then he did. It was quiet moments like this, which would likely occur more in the future which helped in breaking down the barrier that stopped him from talking so much about the things that truly bothered him.

Faye had inadvertently stepped on a landmine with her question, and though Fane didn’t blame her for it. How could he when she didn’t know what and how that question made him feel? He knew that the resulting effect of the memories not to mention the guilt it dredged up would kill his mood for the rest of the night. Not that he pushed her away, not in the physical capacity at least considering he was too comfortable with her pressed up against him to even want that but there was an emotionally present distance there. A step apart in terms of what he felt inclined and capable of sharing with her currently.

Fane didn’t equate Faye with a bad memory, in fact some of the best he’d had were with her in the last few years they had taken to get to know one another. Nor did he think that the topic had anything really to do with what they had done and shared tonight either. All he knew was that he didn’t feel quite so inclined to be as exploratory as he had earlier, the guilt lingering in the back of his mind with whatever he chose to do now. It would fade if not by the morning in a few days, but for the time being it was what it was but Fane had dealt with worse. This was a guilt that had lingered with him for years by now that it really didn’t faze him all that much anymore.

The squeeze to his hand let him know she’d heard him, and he let her shift to find a position in which she felt comfortable his arm remaining wrapped around her. He’d trained himself to fall asleep almost on command when he wanted and he could sleep almost anywhere by now but he wanted to make sure she was comfortable first. Much like Faye he didn’t know what this was, all he knew was that despite the slight shift in mood was that this mattered to him. When she was finally settled he breathed quietly his eyes falling shut and a few moments later he was already beginning to drift off.

[craft-rose]

up and down

Title: up and down

Pairing: Reader/Hoseok

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Sexy things. 

A/N: I wrote this in one sitting and it probably shows lmao. 

You climb out of your tent to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. The quiet zip of your tent flaps fills the silence in the clearing as you step into your hiking boots. It’s only as you glance up, shrugging your coat on to shield yourself from the frigid winds, that you spot Hoseok by the campfire, by himself.

Startled by sight of him, you quickly back pedal, crunching a twig under the weight of your boot.

The sound of it cuts through the silence like a knife through butter, catching the dancer’s attention as he lifts his head up to look at you.

Your lips twitch apart as if you mean to greet him, but no words come out.

Truthfully, you’ve always felt a little awkward around Hoseok. You have many of the same friends as him, and you see each other at random social gatherings all the time, but you’ve never really interacted with each other beyond that. It’s always a polite nod, followed by an excuse to go over there.

In that moment, however, there is no over there to run off to.

“Going somewhere?” Hoseok asks, calmly nodding to the flashlight in your hand.

You glance down at it, forgetting for a moment that you have to pee. “Uh …” Usually, you have no shame talking about your bodily functions. In fact you had an in-depth discussion about your menstrual cycle with Seokjin just a few hours ago at dinner. He was curious to know how tampons worked and how often you had to change them.

Suffice to say you’re nowhere near as comfortable around Hoseok.

The second you think to make up an excuse as to where you’re going, the toilet paper that you shoved into your coat pocket earlier, falls out, and unravels at your feet.

Cheeks burning with heat, you drop to your knees to collect the mess of paper, bundling it up into a fat wad as Hoseok casually comes over to help.

Your insides jumble up in response.

Get it together, ________. He’s just a normal guy.

“Is that the same flashlight that Jimin was using last night?” he asks, kneeling down beside you.

You nod, tentatively. “Uh … I think so. Why?”

“He left it on all day,” the idol explains. “The batteries are probably drained by now.”

Curiously, you shift your attention to the flashlight, flicking the switch, but to no avail.

“Shit,” You mutter to yourself, smacking the side of it a couple of times before you finally give up, coming to your feet.

Hoseok straightens with ease, brushing the dirt from his knees. “Do you know the way to the rock?” he asks, referring to the large rock in the middle of the woods where you’ve all been going to the bathroom for the past two nights and three days.

Bouncing a look at the trees beyond the clearing, you feel your stomach tense up. “I think so …” You say, quite unconvincingly.

“It’s pretty dark out there,” he asserts, rubbing the side of his neck. “I can walk with you if you want.”

Your stomach lurches at the idea of that. “Oh. No, no. That’s okay. I-I can manage on my own.”

“Are you sure?”

Quickly nodding, you stumble off into the woods without another word as if to prove some sort of point. To him and to yourself. You’ve always loved camping, and the outdoors, and you certainly don’t need a guy to walk you anywhere.

Especially not Jung Hoseok.

Regardless, you glance back a second later to see if he’s there, dutifully walking you to the rock against your wishes the way Yoongi or Seokjin would have in this situation, but he’s not.

He stays back at camp as you carry on, breaking various twigs and tripping over various rocks and protruding tree roots as you hike deeper into the dark, winding forest.

For whatever reason you’re annoyed he’s not chasing after you, and you’ve no idea why.

Shoving it all aside, you make your way to the rock, squatting a few feet away from the hole that you dug earlier with a wad of toilet paper in your grasp. You normally use leaves to do the job but Seokjin went ahead and bought a pack of biodegradable toilet paper before the trip and insisted that you take a roll.

Within seconds the pressure in your bladder dies down, and you let out a breathless sigh, unquestionably relieved that Hoseok isn’t there to witness this.

Once you’re done, you clean up, securing your pyjama bottoms before turning around to retrace your steps back to camp. You’ve done this at least five or six times in the past few days. More than enough to have memorized the way. Granted you normally have another person to walk with you, or the sun to light your path … but you made it there just fine, so you should have no trouble finding your way back.

You hug your coat as a brisk, positively glacial gust of wind howls through the trees. It’s so cold, in fact, you lose your sense of direction, bouncing a look over your shoulder as you try to remember the way.

“Shit …” You mutter for the second time that night, turning on the spot, trying to identify the markers that you had noted earlier.

There’s meant to be a lopsided tree stump somewhere close, after which you’re meant to turn left and continue in that direction until you arrive back at camp. But as you look back, and to both sides, you find no such tree stump. Only the tallest, dizzying trees and a thick, ugly root that you swear came out of nowhere.

You trip over it as you stumble backwards, quickly losing your footing and falling down to the ground with a swift, heart-stopping snap.

For a split second you’re worried you’ve broken a bone, but the only thing that’s broken is the twig under your ass. Even so, you slowly come to your feet, aching in places you didn’t know existed.

If it weren’t so cold, you’d have stayed and waited until sunrise, but you had no immediate desire to freeze to death in the wilderness. Scrunching your face in pain, you place a hand on your side, where it hurts the most, and forge onward.

Somehow you find your way back to the same thick, ugly root, and the same twig that you snapped in half with the lower left side of your ass.

Wheeling a look around, everything begins to blend together into one dark, blurry haze.

You shift your gaze in all directions, slowly and then quickly as the panic begins to set in.

I’m lost, You realize. I’m actually fucking lost.

Forgetting the camp, you turn back in the direction of the rock to give this another go, but your efforts bring you nowhere. Somehow you reach an incline, meaning you’ve traveled far too deep in what is absolutely and unquestionably, the wrong direction.

You squint hard, trying to find the familiar glow of the campsite, but it’s too dark. So dark you can barely see your hands and feet in front of you.

“Hello?” You call out, weakly. “Guys? Is … is anyone there?”

There’s no response.

Not a sound apart the rustling of branches nearby. Maybe five or ten feet away at the most.

“H-hello? Seokjin? Y-Yoongi? Is — is that you?”

Again, there’s no response. Just more rustling.

The fear and unease of what could potentially happen, slowly but steadily crawls the length of your spine. It grows louder with each second, consuming you as you stand there frozen.

Whatever’s there, it’s not who — or what — you think it is.

Run.

Louder.

I need to run.

And louder.

I need to fucking run!

So loud you can already feel the beast sink its teeth into your throat and rip it out with one sharp tug.

RUN! RUN! RUN!

You whip around, dashing off as fast as you can, and with no sense of where you’re going, only the deepest, most powerful surge of adrenaline you’ve ever felt.

“_________?” Someone suddenly asks, maybe half a second before you run straight into them.

Smacking your skull directly against theirs, you fall to the ground with a loud, resounding clunk, the ground shaking beside you as the other person falls down immediately after you do.

Suddenly everything goes blurry, and you forget there’s a beast chasing after you.  

“Holy … fucking … shit …” You groan, grasping your skull. “Fuck me … in the … fucking … ass.”

Your head is aching so badly, you barely take notice of the other person.

“Are you blind or something?” they ask you accusingly, the sound of their voice coming to you swiftly like a kick in the gut.

You blink your eyes open, startled as they adjust to the familiar outline of the guy before you. “H-Hoseok?”

“Yes, it’s me,” the idol grumbles, massaging the part of his head that you had accidentally smacked against yours. “I-I went out looking for you when you didn’t come back.”

Eyebrows twitching up, you utter the first words that come to mind. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“Why the hell wouldn’t I?” he counters, rather defensively at that.

“Well, for one …” You grunt, slowly coming upright. “We’re barely friends.”

He looks at you as if you’ve gone mad. “What, you think I would let you wander the woods alone just because I don’t know you that well?”

“Uh …” Hearing it back like that, you quickly realize how ridiculous you sound. “I-I don’t know, okay? Let’s just go back. Before we run into a bear or something.”

Slowly coming to his feet, he mutters something that sounds an awful lot like, “You could always head-butt it if we do,” under his breath.

You scrunch your lips into a frown, ignoring the hand he extends to you as you get up.

In the moments that follow, he takes the lead, creating a path through the trees and all the jutting branches as you trail behind. To your knowledge, he’s one of those people who’s afraid of everything, especially things you’d find in the outdoors. You’re surprised he even agreed to go camping, let alone that he was able to find you in the dark, and that he didn’t simply wake up one of the other guys and make them do it.

“Okay …” he says, coming to halt roughly two minutes later, a twitch of uncertainty along his bottom lip as he glances back. “I-I think this is the way.”

Your face screws. “I’m sorry, did you just say you think this is the way?”

“Well, I can’t say precisely. You veered so far from the actual path, I-I don’t know where we are anymore.”

Clapping both hands over your face, you groan loudly. “We’re fucked. We’re so fucked.”

“In the ass, apparently.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“You shut up,” he fires back, facing you. “This wouldn’t have happened if you’d just come back like you were supposed to.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” You snort.

He makes a face at you. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe if you had walked me to the rock like a proper gentleman, I wouldn’t have tripped over that root and lost my bearings, and we’d both be safely back at camp by now!”

“I offered and you said no!”

“Oh, barely …” You say in a mocking tone, wiggling your arms around as you mimic the way he had offered earlier. “I cAn waLk wiTh yOu iF yoU wAnt.”

Hoseok narrows his eyes at you, glaring deeply. “That’s not how I said it.”

“Whatever. Did you at least bring a flashlight?”

“Do you think we’d be standing here in the dark if I had one?”

You exhale loudly, plopping down to the ground after with your arms folded. “Fuck this. I’m not moving until the sun comes up.”

“You’ll freeze to death.”

“I’d rather freeze than go stumbling around in the wrong direction.”

“Fine!” he shouts, turning his back to you as if to walk off.

Your mouth falls open. “Are you seriously leaving me here al — ?!”

He takes his backpack off, hanging it up on a tree nearby, and then unzipping it to extract what looks like a blanket from within the largest compartment.

You lift an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

“What?”

“You brought a blanket but not a flashlight?”

Frowning, he settles down about a foot away, opening and extending part of the blanket to you as if to share.

There’s a soft tug in your chest, but you ignore it, hugging your coat tighter. “I’m fine like this.”

“Suit yourself,” he shrugs, gladly taking the blanket up all to himself.

You force your eyes closed, leaning back against the base of a tree and turning your head to the side so you don’t have to look at him. There’s no way you’re going to fall asleep in the cold like this, but you try to anyway. You pull out all the usual tricks — sheep, math, Taylor Swift’s entire discography —  but none of it works.

In fact the longer you sit there, bundled up in nothing but your pyjamas and your coat, the harder it is to breathe, and to stop your teeth from chattering.

Before you know it, you feel a pair of warm, toned arms wrap around you, sealing whatever body heat you have left in a blanket.

You struggle to open your eyes, only then realizing how numb you feel all over, and that every inch of the ground, including the part where you’re sitting, is covered in frost.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Hoseok tells you, rubbing your arms up and down under the blanket.

If you had the energy, you’d have rolled your eyes just then. Instead you settle for the only words you can manage. “Th-that’s impossible.”

“What’s impossible?”

“Wh-whatever it is you’re implying.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, he simply continues rubbing your arms until the feeling in them slowly returns.

You close your eyes again, breathing in and then out, and then gradually coming to notice how close in proximity the two of you are. For one, you’re under the same blanket, and his arms are wrapped loosely, but warmly, almost protectively, around your body. And on top of that, you’re not sure you hate it.

Perhaps it’s the cold playing tricks on you.

Perhaps it’s the residual fear of nearly having your throat torn out by a beast.

Perhaps it’s the fact that you’d once had a slight a crush on a certain someone for reasons that are still unknown to you.

Or perhaps it’s all three bundled up into one Hoseok-shaped package.

Whatever it is, you swallow it down, every inch of your body suddenly prickling with heat as Hoseok stops rubbing. Slowly you feel a different sort of adrenaline settle in. His hands are warm and motionless, cupping the backs of yours in a way that’s almost affectionate …but you’re not totally sure that’s aware of it.

For a split second you convince yourself that he’s fallen asleep.

As you glance back to check, however, you find that his eyes are wide open, alert as if he’s concentrating hard on something, but you have no idea what.

It’s only as you silence your thoughts that you hear it.

The growling in the distance.

“D-do you hear that?” Hoseok asks you in a whisper, his voice breaking slightly.

You swallow hard, trying not to make any sudden movements. “Be quiet. Don’t move.”

“Wh-what if it charges at — ?”

Without warning, you clap a hand over his mouth, both of you shaking under the blanket as the sounds grow louder. Growling followed closely by the rustling of branches, and the twist,  snap and crunch of a slow, but steady approach.

Whatever it is, it sounds big and heavy.

Hoseok’s breathing intensifies.

On instinct, you drop your hand from his mouth to his forearm, slowly sliding it down and lacing your fingers between his. You’re afraid, yes, but the way he’s shaking, he’s terrified. And you’re not in any rush to letting him get devoured by whatever beast is lurking in the distance.

Closing your eyes at the same time he does, the two of you stay like that for what feels like an eternity, but is probably closer to a couple of minutes.

Whatever it is, it goes away.

A sense of quiet sweeps over the area, and the only sound that you hear now is the wind.

You release the breath that you were holding in, along with the death grip that you have on Hoseok’s hand. Perhaps you were a little more afraid than you had thought.

Shifting away a few inches, you tilt your head back, sighing in relief. “That was close.”

“I’m never going camping again.”

You can’t help but laugh. “It’s not always so bad.”

“I take it you do this a lot?”

“Sometimes,” You shrug. “Let’s just say I prefer daylight hours.”

This time he laughs, sharply glancing back as he hears more rustling in the distance, even though it’s clearly just wind. “Are we really going to stay here like this until sunrise?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“I guess not …”

You chew your bottom lip, trying to think of some way to distract him. If he’s going to stay on edge like this, it’s just going to be a long night for both of you.

“I have a question,” You begin.

“What is it?”

“Why didn’t you just wake up one of the other guys when you realized I was lost?”

There’s a slight twitch in his face as he thinks. “I-I don’t know. I guess I felt responsible.”

“Responsible?” You repeat, quietly taken aback. “I wasn’t serious when I said it was your fault for letting me wander off alone. You know that, right?”

He glances down a moment. “Yeah, but if I’d just gone with you, none of this would have happened.”

“That’s not true. Look at us now,” You say. “We’re both here, and we’re still lost.”

“I guess …”

“Also, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea or anything, but … it was really nice of you to come looking for me,” You further, in no particular way. “I wasn’t expecting that at all.”

“What were you expecting?” he asks.

You’re not entirely sure. “I don’t know. I’m just glad that we didn’t get eaten by whatever that was earlier.”

He snorts. “Don’t speak too soon. We still have a long night ahead of us.”

For whatever reason you feel a smile tug at your lips, one that you’d probably let happen if you weren’t so cold. Teeth chattering, you bring your knees to your chest, the innermost part of which gently quickens as Hoseok comes a little bit closer.

The warmth of the blanket spreads through every inch of your body, and you slowly begin to lean into it, the feeling of him.

Whatever it is that’s prompting this, you don’t care for the details.

On that same wavelength he tilts his head down, giving you enough time to make a choice, and you do. Chest hitching inside your shirt, you ignore the voice in the back of your head that’s telling you to think about this before you proceed.

You have thought about it.

In fact you’ve thought about more times than you can count.

And going by the way Hoseok looks at you in those last few seconds, he’s thought about it, too.

You close your eyes, turning your body towards him as he leans in, and kisses you.

The air is frigid, and the earth beneath you is hard and icy, but your cheeks are ablaze, and you quickly come to realize how badly you’ve wanted this. Within seconds of contact, you weave your fingers through his hair and he wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you closer, and kissing you deeper.

Honestly, it’s the best kiss you’ve had in a long time.

It might even be the best you’ve had, ever.

Without a doubt, it’s the hottest, and most random.

Sinking to the ground together, and yanking at various parts of each other’s clothing as if to tear them clean off, you almost miss when one of your friends calls out to you.

“Hoseok-ah! _________-ah!” Yoongi shouts, from not that far away.

Your movements screech to an abrupt, and frustratingly reluctant halt, and you suddenly glance to each other in a panic as you realize you’re about three seconds away from getting caught.

The two of you quickly separate, hurriedly scrambling to your feet and righting your coats as a beam of light shines down you from about ten or fifteen feet away.

Yoongi and Taehyung soon follow, a flashlight in the older boy’s grasp.

“Why are you two all the way out here?” he asks. “We’ve been looking everywhere. Jimin woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t find you guys.”

Both you and Hoseok bounce a look at each other, stringing together whatever you could in that moment without saying too much.

“I went out to use the bathroom,” You explain. “And I took too long, so Hoseok went out to look for me, and …”

“And then we lost track of how to get back,” he adds. “Also, we were nearly eaten alive by some sort of bear.”

Yoongi and Taehyung exchange a look, briefly, a hint of a smirk on both their faces before they glance back at the both of you.

Clearly they don’t believe that’s all that happened but they neglect to question you further. Instead the four of you walk back to camp, arriving in about five minutes — much to your embarrassment — and then waiting for the other guys to come back before breaking off to your separate tents.

You climb inside yours, zipping it up and curling up inside your sleeping bag, as you think for a long time about what happened out there and how badly you wish it would have lasted longer.

Part of you wonders if he’s thinking about it, too.

I guess I’ll find out tomorrow, you decide, allowing your eyes to fall shut as the exhaustion washes over you.

[enygmass]

As the former collections manager of an Edgar Allan Poe museum, I can't resist. "Berenice," with dealer's choice of characters.

Me @ myself: damn

[Um ok this got a bit long, like 1941 words long, but it’s Scriddler and I hope you’re ok w that bc I gotta get back to writing my boys. Well. I guess you can say mentions of Scriddler, but nothing solid. Also a bit dark on the relationship part.]

Berenice: loss, fixation, memory.

[ But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born. ]

                                                                1              

Often when one enters a career that binds them to work until the early hours of the morning, when the sun is tentatively peering its head up from the horizon and the city lights are fading away as an indicator to the people to wake up, they know better than to get expectations. When this career further includes activities that many would deem dangerous, or immoral, these expectations are further to be limited. The only expectation a criminal can have is the expectation that they will be inevitably caught. They cannot even anticipate success; if you do, you gain a large ego, and this is how you collapse.

Jonathan knew of a man who had begun to anticipate his success. Yes, he knew of this man quite intimately; he had spoken through bars to him and had been forced to share showers. Often when you share showers with someone that’s about the time you stop trying to be shy around each-other. There is nothing sacred when you’re both inmates at the exact same institution. Even when you try to hold your tongue from others, the walls whispered for you.

His first memory of this man was their initial encounter, not in Arkham, but crossing paths at a bookstore long before they became what they were now. He had been vibrant but irritable, turning the corners without looking and practically causing Jonathan to lose the stack of important novels that he intended to take home and hunch over for the evening. He had offered no apology and nor had Jonathan. They had exchanged a mutual blank stare as Jonathan readjusted the stack and pushed his glasses up, before they moved past each other and to their intended locations. He had failed to see him coming, but what he had not failed was to note the novel the man held in his hand as he passed; ‘The Fall of the Human Intellect’ by A. Parthasarathy. Both controversial and conceptual. A unique taste.

The second memory of the man was quite a time later, long after Jonathan had grown settled into the routine of chemicals and testing versus educating and grading. Late evening hours had become his equivalent of day time, and he had found himself frequenting renown locations of Underworld dwellers to generate some sort of interest in funding what he desired to create. He had a name by then; The Scarecrow was no longer associated with the figure in the cornfield. By now, people were thinking of gaseous substances and their rooted terror when the name was uttered. This was how he had found himself located at the Iceberg Lounge. If there was one man who liked things that could benefit him, it was Oswald Cobblepot.

Oswald Cobblepot, however, was preoccupied with another client and Jonathan had been subsequently forced to sit outside on some excuse of a chair to wait. He had discarded his now typical attire for something more casual, but a briefcase was gripped in his hand. Some things never change when you move from Professor to Rogue. The sound of the door opening, followed by the chatter of two men of which one he knew, had broken away the train of thought in return for attentiveness. There had been no anticipation, however, of seeing who he saw with Cobblepot that night. In fact, the last time Jonathan had recalled seeing him, they had nearly collided with one another at a dingy bookstore on the corner of Cherry Street. The man had recognized him as well, given the sly smile that had broken upon his face mere seconds after exiting the room.  

The approach had been long and tedious, and when he had finally stopped in front of Jonathan, he had extended a hand as if it were a right.

“I don’t think we ever formally said hello. I’m Edward Nygma, but you might know me as The Riddler.”

Jonathan had stared at the hand for a moment before taking it. Edward had spoken with a self-confidence that was admirable, but perhaps a bit too obvious. If anything to Jonathan – a trained psychologist – it had felt superficial.

“Jonathan Crane, but you might know me as The Scarecrow.”

That had been the instigator of what was to become one of the tensest affairs Jonathan had ever had to formally deal with. He and Edward clashed personality-wise. Edward was extroverted, excitable, egotistical, and exhausting. Jonathan felt more inclined as an introverted, impassive, indecipherable individual. They had shared similar traits, however. Both were passionate about their work, both knew intellect served above all else, both were masterful at complex plans, and both hated the bat enough that they could tolerate working with one another for more than one evening. Perhaps that was where a majority of their toxicity began to form.

Jonathan had become fixated on the way Edward Nygma’s mind worked, and he had acknowledged this to himself. He had become fixated on his thought process, on what drove him, on what set Edward Nygma off to become The Riddler. Jonathan had known for a fact he was always fated to become The Scarecorw; childhood neglect and rejection from peers created a perfect recipe for a psychotic break. Edward Nygma, on the other hand, seemed far too composed for him to become The Riddler. This had made him something of a fascination; like a regular citizen listening to a convicted killer recount in grotesque detail their crimes, Jonathan had felt himself becoming more and more interested each time Edward opening his mouth to speak. When they had worked together in close confinement, within the cells of Arkham, Edward had opened his mouth a lot.

“Jeremiah can’t properly grasp the concept of what I’m telling him. I, personally, prefer Leland; at least she made an active effort to solve my riddles rather than telling me over and over how ‘this is unhealthy behavior’.”

They had been eating lunch, in their usual spot located away from most of the inmates. Often, they were joined by a few stragglers; Hatter, on occasion Harley although she spent the most time in her cell, and once in a while Harvey when he had nowhere else to be. This time they had been alone, however.

“It is unhealthy. It’s compulsive, and most of the time it’s the reason you end up here.” Jonathan had only been half minding the conversation, deterring the rest of his attention to the two guards who had been staring them down from the entrance. Each time they had leaned close to whisper to one another, Jonathan had been sure to look directly at them.

“I’m aware of that, Jonathan, and if I could control it I would. Jeremiah Arkham will last one more session with me before he ships me off to Young, or Thompkins, and I know this.” Jonathan had drawn one slender finger across the corner of his mouth, all while staring down the two guards still.

“How do you know so confidently?” He had still only half been listening at that point.

“Because I always know. I always know the outcome of these things. These Doctors, they’re like clockwork – they like their set systems, and when you twist one bolt just out of place, they send you over to the next Doctor instead. They don’t like to feel like they’re out of control.” Now he had looked to Edward, only to be met with a stern expression and a self-assured gaze. Edward had been hunched over his plate at that point, and Jonathan had known that Edward Nygma was exactly the mind he wanted to pry at.  

Those moments had felt like eons ago.

Time changed, as did life along with it, and many years had passed since Jonathan had looked at those two guards in Arkham. They hadn’t done what he thought they would that evening, something he was relieved about. Men in positions of power could be ruthless; there were experiments to prove such things.

Time had also changed his standpoint with Edward. Although he had continued to study the man, falsifying their friendship to gain insight into his workings like some lab rat under scrutiny, becoming too involved with a subject often led to things getting far too personal. Yes, he had come to know this man quite intimately, surpassing the boundaries of physical contact to something even he was uncomfortable with. Perhaps this had been what had created the rift between them, the toxicity that had begun to form those years before. The toxicity that had eventually overflowed and created burns that would likely not heal for a long time now.

Edward had left two years ago, likely to catch bigger fish than what was lurking in Gotham City.

Too many people in this city now, all stealing or creating their own gimmicks. It isn’t as it should be.

His logic was sound, his thought process clear, but Jonathan had offered no insight. He had sat quietly with his back facing Edward as he spoke, only half listening as he had in Arkham, and using the rest of his attention to focus at the task at hand. Their conversations no longer held the interest they once did.

Metropolis is pointless, and I don’t feel like getting massacred by some Demi-God. Maybe there’s some other town nearby.

Edward had always talked, even when Jonathan had wanted him not to. The Iceberg Lounge, on heists, at dinner, in the bedroom, always talking, always saying what was on his mind.

What I’m trying to say here, Jonathan, is that we should go. Everyone else is moving on and we’re practically the last ones left. Are you even listening to me?

Jonathan had offered a sound of half-acknowledgment. Recollection of what had occurred next was vague, but he recalled a few other phrases being thrown about, before the sound of Edwards boots moving up the basement steps echoed out and faded to obscurity. Then there was sound no more. Sound no more, except for what was made by the beakers and the chemicals bubbling away.

After that, he had not seen Edward. Fall faded to winter – a peaceful one without the disruption -  and winter to spring, which also passed with no disruption. Spring faded to summer, and to fall once more until a full year had passed since that discussion in the basement. Still no Edward. No letters, no messages, an absolute dead-air.

Jonathan had not minded. He had been accustomed to this for many years and had decided it was for the better. Research could be accomplished more successfully without the interruption of hands on your back, or lips on your neck, or fierce yelling in your ear about the stupidity of some vigilante. Although he did find himself reminiscing perhaps a bit too longingly on his relationship with Edward, memories he promptly pulled himself out of, the one thing that couldn’t be argued was that he could finally complete his work.  

The only expectation a criminal can have is the expectation that they will be inevitably caught. A criminal should not expect to be able to maintain successful relationships especially if they are in the same career as you. They should not expect joy or a feeling of completion to be gained from such relationships. They should not expect success, they should not expect fame, and above all, they should not expect for happiness to be derived from the immoral path they elected to follow.

They cannot even anticipate success. But Jonathan had known a man who had anticipated his success – and wondered if he had achieved it yet.

[forcedapotheosis-blog]

Servant of Fate (Part 2)

As promised, one part every day. Here’s the second one. This one’s a little longer than the first, too :D

An hour passed and he couldn’t do anything but smoke and stare at the open sea, a sight that usually had a soothing effect on him. It meant freedom and adventure, it reminded him of times past, old and new friends, of his dream, of his true family. The open sea eased the pain of all the wounds he had sustained throughout his life, even throughout the last weeks. A miraculous cure for just about anything.

Anything but a broken heart.

No amount of cigarettes would be able to numb the pain of a broken heart, no hours on end of watching the black sea at night, not even the timeless beauty of all the stars in the sky.

Just when he was about to put another cigarette between his lips, his Kenbunshoku Haki awoke and raised the alarm, enabling him to grab on to Sunny’s rail a split second before the tempest arrived. The storm wind’s advent was short and brutal, like the powerful beat of a gigantic wing, but other than taking the smoke from his lips, it did not do any damage to the ship or his still bruised body. Sanji had only raised one arm to cover his face while he used to other to cling to the rail, thus, if only for a moment, he wasn’t able to see what was happening on deck.

It sure did surprise him when he finally realised what the wind had brought onto the ship.

An ambush? A devil fruit-user!

Only a moment later he had both his hands stowed within his pockets and, ignoring the pain of his most recent wounds, raised his right leg to defend his crew and himself.

Surprisingly enough, that seemed to be a waste of time, as the unexpected guest was neither armed nor seemed to be hostile. He simply raised a hand to greet him, a weary smile on his lips.

“She’s got an adamantine will, hasn’t she?”, his voice was deep, pleasant to listen to and didn’t carry even the slightest threat.

“Eavesdropping is considered incredibly impolite throughout this world. Who the hell are you?!”, Sanji was unconsciously raising his voice to gloss over the fact that this stranger, as mundane and unthreatening as he seemed, scared the living guts out of him.

When a person uses Kenbunshoku or, as it is sometimes called, Observation Haki, a lot of changes happen within the perception of said person. First and foremost, all of their senses are sharpened to overcome basic human limits, some people are even able to enhance and refine this type of Haki so much that they are enabled to look a few seconds into the future. One shared trait of all users of it, though, was that they were able to literally see and feel a person’s aura, to sense their strength. If you looked at a living legend, like the Red-haired Shanks, for example, it would be like gazing right into the sun, while a normal human being would have an aura that was rather easy to look at.

The stranger was different, though. No matter how much Sanji tried, there was nothing to see or feel about him, the second sight that his Haki granted him wasn’t able to get the slightest grasp about who or what he was facing. Considering that even their undead bard Brook did possess, even though a slightly altered, aura, this was a very real reason to be concerned.

“I'm just a humble servant, wishing you no harm.”, was the answer he received, but considering the lack of something he could work with, it was a little hard to believe. Watching this man with his normal eyes, he still didn’t seem like much of a threat. A little smaller than himself, with a clean-shaven face and brown eyes, there was nothing of particular note about him. He was clad in a dark suit and wore a tie of the colour of a ruby, had brown eyes and a rather distinct chin. Only his long, dark hair, which he wore untied, and that reached even over his hips was something that was even slightly out of the orderly.  

“A servant of whom?! And you still didn’t answer on why you were eavesdropping.”, Sanji’s leg was still raised, just out of caution. Not being able to read him was a stressful situation in and of itself.

“You will understand in time, my friend. For now, the only thing you have to know is that the incredibly strong will of your navigator, even though admirable, is a great obstacle.”, he slowly walked towards Sanji, brushing his shoulder as he passed. Strangely enough, it sounded somewhat like the rustling of feathers.  

“So you’re here to break her will?! I won’t let that happen, you bastar-..”, he breathed in sharply when he turned around to follow the stranger, only to see that the stranger was no more, someone different had taken his place.

An okama?!, the thought didn’t occur by chance. Were just a minute ago the stranger was a man, there stood a woman in his place. A beautiful woman nonetheless, at least one could think that when seeing her, absolutely stunning, back. It was adorned with a small tattoo on her left shoulder, depicting a black bird, possibly a raven. When she turned around to look at him, his heart made a small leap. Contrary to all the other okama he had met (too many, at least for his taste) throughout his life, this woman looked exactly like a woman should look. She wore a black dress that exposed much of her back and had eyes that were of the clearest emerald green, a face in the shape of a heart, the perfect mixture of youthfulness and maturity, dark hair that was pinned up to provide an excellent look onto her flawless neck. In another time, another place and another story, he would have been swooning all over her within a moment’s thought.

“I’ve had my fair share of okama for one lifetime, you won’t blindside me.”, even though the words left his mouth, his right leg was lowered.

“Oh, that wasn’t my intent. And I’m not an okama, my friend. I’m neither one nor the other, but more than the sum of their parts. I just thought that you’d prefer this form of mine.”, she smiled to support her smoky, seductive voice, but his will was unwavering for once, at least when it came to physical attraction.

“I still don’t know what you want from me.”, by now, his right foot had reached the ground and the tension within his body was mostly gone. She smiled again.

“Your captain wants to be the King of Pirates, my friend. And he won’t be able to achieve that if even one piece of the confusing and strange puzzle that you call ‘crew’ is missing, but with all the pieces together, it is possible.”, she took a small break and watched the sky.

“Unfortunately, you wanting to ask her to marry you has set a different chain of events in motion.”, she sighed, facing him.

“Everything in this world exists and will continue to exist until a sufficient force acts against it. This force, my friend, is her iron will. No, it’s not that she doesn’t want to be with you. It’s that she does not want to see you die, even less so after a commitment of such gravity. As you know, her whole life was a tragic story of love and loss, of purest joy and deepest sorrow. The whole of you are walking down a dangerous path. Death could take anyone of you within the blink of an eye, and after losing so much, she is sure that losing you would destroy her. Even more so when the both of you are committed to each other as lovers.”, all of a sudden, the woman looked and sounded rather weary and tired, while Sanji appalled from hearing these words.

“Does .. does that mean that she’s feeling the same as I do?!”, well, he was optimistic to a fault. The woman sighed another time.

“Yes, she indeed reciprocates your feelings. And that will invariably lead to either you or her leaving the crew, which will, in turn, make it impossible for your captain to become the new king.”, his optimism vanished in the blink of an eye, these words felt like a sucker punch right into his stomach. Their feelings would destroy Luffy's dreams?!

“How’s that possible?!”, he didn’t care about the fact that he was shouting.

“Don’t you understand? It’s of no matter if it’s the sniper or the swordsman, you or her, the little doctor, the archaeologist, the cyborg and the bard or the bunny. All of you have been a part of his beating heart from the moment you joined his crew, even from the moment he laid eyes on you. A heart that cannot go on if a part of it is missing.”

“I .. this cannot be! Just me being an idiot right now changes this course?!”, sometimes, all it took was a snowball to start an avalanche.

“I promise you that you’re not the only one who’s annoyed by that. I’ve been specifically watching over the both of you for some time and misfortune does seem to follow.”, a sad smile accompanied her words.

“Could .. could I make things right by taking back my proposal?”, Sanji asked, his voice on the verge of breaking.

“Unfortunately not, no. The chain of events has already been set in motion.”

“Then why the hell are you here?! Is it some kind of sick enjoyment of our pain?!”, to that, she just let out a short, dry laugh.

“Absolutely not. I’m here to ensure the order of things. Tell me, my friend, what is it that you wish for the most?”, the woman inclined her head to the side, now looking interested again.

“I wish for them to be happy, what else?! I .. I wish for Nami to have a happy, wonderful and fulfilled life, even if it is without me .. and I wish for Luffy to become the King of Pirates, I wish that all of them can fulfil their dearest wishes and dreams, even that green-haired punk shall become the greatest swordsman in the world ..”

“Since I’m feeling generous today, you will have the chance to prove what your words are worth.”, she simply said, touching his forehead with the tip of her finger. In the corner of his eye, he caught the glimpse of the spreading of tremendous black wings, engulfing the both of them in a soft embrace. After that, only darkness remained.

[sasukeuchiha-eternalmangekyou]

~Curse Mark~

(Part 7) - (Part 8) - (Part 9)

Contents: -Bitter Rivals and Broken Bonds (Sasuke Vs Naruto) (Kakashi’s Lecture)

Bitter Rivals and Broken Bonds

The aftermath of Sasuke’s struggle against Itachi results with him once again in the hospital. His injuries were healed by Tsunade, but the mental strain continues to rotate his unattended thoughts. His anger masks how upset he is rather well, concealed to any watching eyes. His loss is on repeat, followed by the effects of the mangekyou’s Tsukuyomi. Through the genjutsu, all those painful memories are resurfaced, those intricate details long forgotten by age return full force, kindling a spark of irritation that’s been covered until now. Despite the proof of being no match against his brother in strength, the severity in taunts Itachi delivered burrow into his mind worse than any source of his own berating faults. His fears were brutally brought forward, shoving his self-confidence off the edge.

Regardless of the needed time alone to fight off the vexation of such a defeat, Sasuke endures visits from his teammates who only have good intentions, but even those inclinations get treated as hostile. All of his gained amiability (small portions being shown over time) get drowned out. As we’ve seen, when Sasuke finds out Itachi is back and is after Naruto, his instinctual focus was his friend’s safety, not revenge, which speaks volumes about his progress. However, after seeing Itachi caused no harm, his agenda falls back to vengeance with exceedingly poor results.

When Sakura is there visiting, Sasuke is detached from the world, outside voices and sounds are all muffled, and any form of communication is distant. It nearly appears as if neither Naruto nor Sakura take into account or recognize how deeply affected Sasuke truly is due to this derailing event that only added to his tragedy. Although they have the best intentions by providing company, a lack of empathy on either end is considerably provoking to the Uchiha who would prefer silence to their interference even though it’s not what’s best for him.

“You’re still too weak. You don’t have enough hate. And you know something? You never will.” – Itachi (flashback in Episode 107: The Battle Begins: Naruto vs Sasuke)

Those words Itachi spoke, aligned with Sasuke’s already deprecating mindset, add fuel to the fire of his aggravation. With those thoughts plaguing his mind, it’s an easy feat to target Naruto as an outlet. His predetermined irritation towards his friend’s fast progress allow room for Sasuke to think if he could still prove he was more powerful than someone who was dead last, then at least he wasn’t falling too far behind, that there was room for recovery. It may seem selfish and a tad theatrical in the melodramatic department, but fighting is his defense mechanism to regain self-worth.

During this time, Orochimaru sends the Sound Four to escort Sasuke to the Hidden Sound. He’s aware, due to the connection the curse mark serves, that Sasuke’s mind is beginning to fully succumb to his own anger, revitalized by his defeat. The original goal was to have the Sound Four convince Sasuke to come in terms of trading power for his life, but Orochimaru intended to take Sasuke’s body for his new vessel immediately to release himself of the inflicted pain his arms caused. If he didn’t transfer soon, all he’s done thus far would be wasted. His immortality and objectives were on the line and despite original plans, he was being hasty.

Sasuke challenges Naruto to a fight, to which the other agrees thinking the terms were equal in their inventive desire to battle. But there was more at stake for Sasuke, something he didn’t convey in words, simply brash behavior to ignite their rivalry and bestow a sense of confidence once more.

Sakura’s focus immediately shift towards the curse mark as she watched him walk away. Recalling the scene displayed in the Forest of Death and an identical look in Sasuke’s eyes that he had when fighting against Zaku, warning bells go off. She has yet to tell Naruto due to him asking her not to, but her instincts ridicule the thought of allowing them to fight against one another for no purpose. Not only is she familiar with his nonconstructive actions when enveloped by that power, and hatred in addition, but her worry flares, not wanting to witness Sasuke lose himself again.

Sasuke is ruthless in their fight, not holding back any punches. He keeps a solid lead, only faltering once Naruto relies on the rasengan to combat his teammates speed and quick paced attacks. The equivalence in their abilities are not matched yet. Where Naruto sought a friendly fight, Sasuke didn’t share the idealistic means anymore. Now when seeing the rasengan for the first time, Sasuke didn’t know how to counter it, bringing the chidori forward. Neither aware of the explosive/deadly means a collision could cause. Then as Sakura runs out to stop them, Kakashi timely appears and pushes the two apart before Sakura could get hurt.

His attention then falls to Sasuke, assumedly correct in thinking the fight was provoked by the isolated incident concerning Itachi.

“What were you thinking? Were you really going to kill him, Sasuke? You’ve really got to watch this sense of superiority you have. That chidori, it was not the size you’d aim at a comrade from the Leaf village. When are you finally going to grow up, Sasuke?” ‘Did meeting up with Itachi cause this?’ – Kakashi (Episode 108: Bitter Rivals and Broken Bonds)

His words reveal clear disappointment, but also worry that Itachi unraveled all the improvement in Sasuke’s attitude towards teamwork, his friends, and general outlook. He finally got Sasuke to the point of seeing beyond revenge, but the carefully crafted progress was undone with ease, all conveyed in the simple glance they shared before Sasuke took it upon himself to leave with no reply.

Upon seeing the external damage Naruto’s rasengan caused to the water tower, Sasuke once again felt the stab of weakness burning its course through him. This was the unyielding evidence he took to his flaws and with his mental stability at an all-time low, he reverted back to anger, fist slammed against the wall before he ran off. His mind was already devoured by the adrenaline rush the curse mark provided in the past, but didn’t rely on it in this fight either. But using the chidori against Naruto wasn’t much better.

Kakashi notes Sasuke’s superiority/inferiority complex. It’s visible to him, but also a shared trait he had in the past. Being a Jounin squad leader wasn’t his choice, but Hiruzen moved him from ANBU to this position for several reasons. The reflective traits his former team held, keeping an eye on Naruto if the Nine Tails ever became a threat to his safety, and to keep Sasuke from walking a dark path.

“To Naruto, Sasuke is a comrade and a rival at the same time. In fact, it’s the competition between them that keeps him going. That’s why he won’t stand for it when Sasuke tries to belittle him. He’s been dogging Sasuke’s steps every inch of the way since their first days at the Academy. As far as Naruto is concerned what you and I think doesn’t matter. There’s only one person’s approval he really cares about. Sasuke. On the other hand, it’s hard for Sasuke to watch Naruto’s strength and skills develop at such an astonishing rate. He’s come along so fast. Sasuke must feel like he’s standing still. Naruto has something powerful driving him on and so does Sasuke.” “You mean revenge. His hatred of Itachi may be driving him on too fast.” “Sasuke can’t acknowledge Naruto’s abilities. He’s afraid that if he does acknowledge them, he somehow diminishes his own. It can be hard work maintaining a rivalry.” “Well, it’s not a very healthy rivalry.” – Kakashi and Jiraiya (Episode 108: Bitter Rivals and Broken Bonds)

The mentioned acknowledgement of Naruto’s abilities causing Sasuke to diminish his own is a huge key factor. It debilities Sasuke to accept it after all the training and drive he accumulated over those stressful, lonely days spent harboring a faulty future determined by one thing. Kakashi knows he and Sasuke shelter a past of calamity, scorning themselves for the consequences of seclusion it offered afterwards. Upon being mindful of the relatable pain, Kakashi never took to voicing it before. Much to the understanding of his formed rut, he hasn’t moved on from losing his team. Yet he can see it manifesting in Sasuke, especially if he walked the path of revenge. He knows the future damage that was only further blinding by the curse mark’s effective manipulation qualities.

Kakashi heads of to find his student instead of sticking around, only to reassure Sakura for a brief moment. Sasuke in the meantime offers himself seclusion to think, believing it would calm his torrent of thoughts. Questioning what he’s been doing, what it’s all been for if the outcome proves he’s nowhere near ready to face Itachi. After all, his whole life has been spent preparing to kill his brother, and this significant realization ruthlessly discourages him as he dejectedly searches to locate a blame, unwilling to simply accept he’s just not ready yet.

After tracking Sasuke, he pins his student down. Kakashi then looks to the curse mark, much like Sakura had done previously. Sasuke’s will pertaining to suppressing the curse mark is exposed to be a fragile, and faintly maintained notion Kakashi can’t put faith into any longer. Not that his confidence relied on it much from the beginning, but it aided in the denied obligation of involving himself. Despite trying to ease Sakura’s worry beforehand, he finally realizes it wasn’t going to work, leaving Sauske to figure out the issue at hand on his own. His mind is too cluttered with fighting against himself, pinning his want for revenge, and his need for a life surrounded by care, at odds.

Orochimaru mentioned to Kakashi that he’d take advantage of Sasuke’s goals. It’s not as if he is unware of how tempting the curse mark’s powers can be to someone captivated in the nonsensical logic and determination vengeance adds to Sasuke’s wavering priorities, but it presses him to speak his following lecture. By telling Sasuke to give up revenge, he hopes to protect him from that fate, one that tampers with a false happiness that’s not found at the end of that specific road.

Changing his life, living simply with what he gained in positive light, was a clear possibility he hesitated to accept. And with the curse mark’s ability to bring his weakness to the forefront of his mind at any given time, he faltered his steps. And being left alone to combat this, he wasn’t mature enough to identify or distinguish the gifts in living, too ingrained in seeking the negative aspects. That chide Kakashi gave earlier about growing up also referred to Sasuke looking at things from different angles, breaking his tunnel vision because the world is full of people that suffer on many inequitable levels. He’s young, which makes his problems seem centered and cruelly overwhelming to the point that he’s unable to distinguish those around him who are similar. The repercussions aren’t drilled into his brain, be that lack of voices to remind him or purely the hollow structure of his life, but he’s so easily taken advantage of that it’s a daunting concept.

“Let it go. You’ve got to forget about revenge. Believe me, in this work, I’ve met a lot of guys who feel the way you do. Trust me, for those who follow the path of revenge, it never ends well. You’ll only tear yourself apart. And even if you succeed and you get your revenge, what will you have then? Nothing. Emptiness.” “Shut up! What makes you think you know anything about it? It’s easy for you to talk. You have no idea!” “Easy. Just try to calm down.” “Maybe if I was to kill the most important people in your life, anyone who has ever meant anything, maybe then I’d listen to you. Because maybe then you’d have some idea how I feel!” “Hm, it’s an interesting theory. But I’m afraid you’re a little late to put it to the test. Everyone you’re talking about has already been killed. I’ve been around longer than you have, Kid. I’ve seen my share of troubles. You’re not the only one who knows what it’s like to lose somebody. So, it looks like neither of us have led a charmed life exactly, have we? Still, we’re not all that bad off. At least you and I have been lucky enough to find new comrades to help fill the void. Anyway, I do know how you feel. With the chidori you’ve been granted a gift of awesome power. It’s not a power to be used against your comrades, or to seek vengeance. I think, in your heart of hearts, you know what it’s for. Okay. End of lecture. You decide whether what I’m saying hits the mark or not.” – Kakashi and Sasuke (Episode 108: Bitter Rivals and Broken Bonds)

Right here is a crucial moment. Sasuke loses his naturally displayed calmness, drops his shields, and yells at Kakashi, even threatens him. Never being one to shoot his transgressions, let alone openly express and verbally identify the specific part of the past that hurts him the most, he allows himself to be particularly vulnerable which is a rarity. Although Kakashi doesn’t state it, a crack was made in his student’s walls as he confesses that he too knows what it’s like to lose others.

A moment of realization is shown, a true instant of Sasuke understanding that his narrow-mindedness was getting the better of him. Perhaps if this was known sooner, I’d think a more solid comprehension would’ve had time to settle and Sasuke’s reliance on Kakashi wouldn’t be as roundabout as it is portrayed. His confusion begins to reappear once the lecture comes to an end.

Sasuke’s lack of clarity sets in, the scale of priorities already beginning to sway. Is giving up revenge really worth it in order to find happiness? Or is killing Itachi to avenge his family more important than bonds regardless of the cost? Seeking a better life, for peace, has never been an option before now. It almost felt counterfeit, forged on lies, to think acceptance in a recreated life was possible when his innocence to the world’s vindictive nature wasn’t instilled in him any more.

In no regards is the curse mark ignored since it sparked the lecture to come to fruition, but Sasuke reacting in an elusively fashion, thinking with a free mind. It’s not pulling him in or bending his will, reducing his ability to think clearly. He can shove it aside, but the second the pressure gets to him, all that restraint is lost. And a perfect example of that is the opportune arrival of the Sound Four.

[minniekirra]

That’s My Girl

This is first attempt at fan fiction so I’m sorry in advance. I’m also sorry for how evil Finn seems in this, I don’t hate him that much I swear. 

The premise is the delinquents at college! And beating up Finn for being a horrible person. And Bellarke cuddling.

The bus pulled up to my university and my stomach swirled into one big knot. I hopped off, grabbed my bags, and headed into my second year at Vermont University. The sweet warm air did nothing to dissipate the anxiety rumbling through my chest. I knew I would see him as soon as I met up with the rest of my friends.

He said he still wanted to be friends. I’d never heard a lie so blatant as that. He was, in fact, the first thing I saw when I stepped into the room. The rush of sweet air blowing in from the window, through Octavia’s room, and out the door ruffled his hair. I stepped blindly over to give Octavia a tight squeeze.

“Clarke! I missed you!” She cried.

I smiled brightly. “I missed you too, Octavia.” I looped around the room hugging my friends who I hadn’t seen in three months. Jasper, Monty, Harper, and Raven. I stopped by Raven’s side and inclined my head. “Hey, Finn.” I said to the rustling brown hair. He just inclined his head and looked away.

A sudden burst of anger welled in my chest. Like he couldn’t even talk to me? At my side Raven tapped on my clenched fist then wound her fingers through mine.

“Yeah, he’s a dick,” she said. “And don’t forget I’ve know it longer than you.” She grinned and before I knew it a hiccup of laughter escaped my mouth. Finn be damned, he wasn’t going to get in the way of my year!

“Thanks Raven.” Raven and Finn had been together in high school but had broken up before coming to college. She would know all about that.

We fell into easy conversation with our friends. Teasing Jasper and Monty about their summer spent at a winery and their new haircuts, and asking Harper how she liked hiking the Appalachian Trail with Octavia.

“I swear it was like hiking with both Octavia and Bellamy!” Harper said with smiling exasperation. “Whenever we could get signal Octavia just had to call to check in with Bellamy and then I would hear about everything he did - several times over - until they talked again. Then I would hear all new things about Bellamy - several times over!”

“Oh, boo. You know it wasn’t that bad.” Octavia said without heat. “Especially when he drove up to deliver some chocolate we were both craving!” Laughter bounded off the walls and out the window. Of course Octavia and Bellamy would have a hard time being apart. They had spent their entire childhood practically attached at the hip and even now attended the same university.

“Where is Bellamy?” I asked. “Shouldn’t he be hovering by now?”

Octavia snorted. Then stopped in her tracks with a brightness glowing in her eyes. “Bellamy!” The call reverberated around the room. “Bellamy!” “Bellamy!” “Bellamy!” “Bellamy!” “Bellamy!” “Bellamy!” A pause, then we all chorused “Bellamy!”

He just chuckled and said, “Well I guess I was expected.” And made the round of hugs. When he reached me, I hugged him tight and made the surprising discovery that his arms had gotten stronger over the summer.

I told him so with a glint in my eye. He just shook his inky head and punched me in the shoulder. He moved over to hug Raven who raised a brow at me over his broad shoulders. For some reason I felt a knot in my stomach. Not the angry, nervous, Finn type of knot, but a warm and rather disbelieving confused type of knot.

The moment passed and Bellamy moved on to fist bump Finn. For some reason those two had never been very close. Upon closer reflection it was probably because Finn was an asshole. If only I had seen it sooner.

We all settled into our comfortable chatter once again. Everyone jumped on Bellamy to learn how his summer had been. He had spent it lifeguarding at a local pool. Nothing glamorous, but it paid for some alcohol.

Pretty soon Octavia started yelling at everyone to get out because she couldn’t unpack her things with everyone sitting on the bed, chairs, and dresser. Jasper was even fooling around in the closet. Exasperated she yelled, “Get the hell out!” and pushed us all through the door. “Go take up space in someone else’s room!”

Everyone seemed to think that was a good idea. As we milled about in the hallway debating which room was closest, Jasper piped up. “Hey, Finn! Isn’t your room supposed to be the biggest one in the dorm with a spectacular view?”

Finn smirked. “Yup.” Both Raven and I rolled our eyes. I would rather drown in hot lava than go to Finn’s room to see his ‘spectacular view’ and hear everyone groan about how lucky he was. Fuck that.

So, while everyone filed after Finn, Raven and I hung back and turned off into our own room. Octavia was lucky enough to have her own room - as was stupid Finn - but Raven and I bunked together. It worked though. I kept my side clean and orderly. Raven kept her mess mostly on her side.

I shut the door and she threw herself on the pile of clothes blanketing her bed. Raven hadn’t put them away yet and it didn’t look like it would happen anytime in the near future. I sighed and flopped down on my own thick comforter.

“Why did I ever think it was a good idea to date someone in our friend group?” I asked forlornly.

Raven huffed a laugh. “Just be sure you don’t make the same mistake twice.”

“Ew. Bellamy is just, like, my best friend.” I whined.

Raven’s smile turned wicked. “But you knew who I was talking about.”

I groaned and put my hands over my face. “You’re the worst.”

“Why is Raven the worst?” Asked an intriguing deep voice. I rolled over and came face to face with Bellamy. This close I could see every single freckle.

I hardly missed a beat. “Raven wants me to take tequila shots with her tonight to celebrate the new year.”

He grinned, lifted my feet, sat beneath them, then placed them in his lap. “You might want those tequila shots is Finn is going to be around.” He quirked his eyebrows and another warm knot formed in my chest.

“Ugh, true enough.” I grumbled. “By the way, why aren’t you off admiring his room?”

Bellamy hummed. “Honestly, I always kind of thought he was a dick.” Raven and I snorted with laughter.

“Where were you three years ago?” Raven asked.

“I  tried to warn you, but nobody ever wants a man’s advice anymore.” Bellamy quipped.

“True,” I squirmed. “Men are only good for manual labour. Now massage my feet you pleb.” Surprisingly, he did as told.

He raised an eyebrow. “So, are you really going to be ok with Finn around all the time?”

I sighed. I didn’t think I would ever stop sighing. “I mean he’s a dick and a cheater, but I’m not going to crumble.” Both Raven and Bellamy looked dubious. “Oh fuck you both!” They grinned. Assholes.

That night I may not have crumbled, but I certainly didn’t want to be sober while we all jammed into Monty and Jasper’s common room. By the third tequila shot, I felt much better about pretty much everything. I made sure to stay close to Raven and Bellamy as we played beer pong though. I could see Finn’s hair rustling softly in the corner and sometimes I still couldn’t get it out of my head how much he had hurt me.

Eventually I had to break the seal and tripped lightly out to the hall and into the bathroom. Peeing never felt so good. On my way back to the room, I caught a flash of soft brown just as Finn stepped in my path.

“Excuse me,” I mumbled. Finn simply stepped closer and rested his hand on the wall beside my head, effectively boxing me in.

“Finn, I want to go play beer pong.”

“But not with me.” His brown eyes turned sad.

I sighed. “You cheated on me, Finn.” I held back from saying some other rather choice words as a hard pit of annoyance formed in my chest.

“But I still love you.” Somehow Finn had managed to lean even closer to me. Then Jasper and Monty’s door swung open and Bellamy tumbled out. He looked confused for a second and then his face turned livid when he saw that Finn had me pinned against the wall.

I turned back to Finn. “You’ve obviously moved on, you should let me do the same.” Finn’s face took on the look of a stubborn pony who won’t move no matter how many times you kick him.

“You’re probably already fucking Bellamy.” He growled. Before Bellamy could more down an assuredly more violent path, I knocked Finn’s arm away and shouldered past him. He grabbed my arm with bruising strength as I tried to breeze away. My patience as well as my good judgement being truly and completely exhausted, I half turned into Finn and placed my knee squarely into his balls.

Finn fell over with no small grunt of pain. He started rolling from side to side as I walked over to Bellamy. His freckles were stretched with the widest grin I had ever seen. “That’s my girl.”

I smiled and lazily punched him in the arm. “I’m nobody’s girl.”  We left Finn on the floor and sauntered back into the room. I should have done that sooner.

When Raven caught sight of me around the side of a very attractive and tall engineering major she screamed, “another tequila shot!”

I laughed. I could definitely use more than one. Bellamy put his arm on my back and guided me over to Raven. “Here we go.” He said softly into my ear, rustling my hair. I grinned at him, feeling a flush reach the tips of my ears.

The tequila went down like fire and the rest of the night passed in a happy haze. Soon Raven left with the cute engineer. Jasper tried some cheesy pick up lines on Octavia until her boyfriend put a heavily muscled and tattooed arm between them. Finn talked to a tall brunette in a corner. Somewhere in there Bellamy and I were separated. About the time Jasper and Monty started to sing Taylor Swift at the top of their lungs, I decided it was time for me to go home.

Immediately after I unlocked and stumbled into my dark room, I heard moans and a sharp “get out, Clarke!” from Raven.

My drunken feet had never moved faster. Great. My first night back and I didn’t even have a place to sleep for the night. I could try Octavia’s room, but the situation would probably be the same. Harper and Monty had looked like they were getting pretty chummy too. Great.

I sighed and stumbled down the hallway then up the stairs until I stood in front of Bellamy’s door. I hoped he wasn’t similarly occupied as the warm knot in my stomach made its presence known once again. I knocked and was rewarded by the door opening almost immediately. An upbeat “Clarke!” accompanied a gleaming smile greeted me.

He was obviously still drunk. I surprised myself by practically jumping into his arms and nuzzling his chest.

“I missed you,” I slurred. “Please don’t kick me out. Raven’s in our room with the engineer and I have nowhere to go.”

“Aw, it’s ok Clarke.” He comforted, patting my head. I wanted to stay in his arms a little longer, but I stepped back and glanced around. His bed was rumpled with a worn paperback on top of it. Scoffing I said, “Seriously, Bellamy? You’re reading while you’re drunk?” Then fondly, “You nerd.”

He didn’t even look embarrassed. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

Bellamy made me smile. “OK.” We settled down to talk for a bit, but soon enough we both were yawning.

“Bellamy,” I whined. “I’m so uncomfortable. Can I borrow some pajamas?”

“You’re so needy.” He teased. Nevertheless, he moved to his dresser and pulled out a worn shirt, many sizes too big for me, and a loose pair of shorts. I ditched my tight clothes and the shorts then hopped into his bed.

“Hey! That’s my bed!” He cried, indignant.

“Oh, come on,” I cajoled then patted the sheets. “There’s room for two.” It was only when he lay down next to that I realized there was not, in fact, enough room for two.

Drunk me decided she should make the best out of it and snuggled into Bellamy’s side. He stiffened. Then relaxed and put an arm around my waist.

“I still can’t believe you kicked Finn in the balls.” He chuckled.

I grumbled. “Well he deserved it.”

“Never said he didn’t. Especially after what he said and did to you.” Bellamy’s large hand stroked my arm where Finn had left a mottled purple bruise. The skin underneath his fingers prickled. But that was just because I was a little cold. I squirmed even closer to his warm side.

Bellamy hummed. “You know, I came out there looking for you.” He paused.

“Why?” I prompted.

“I was worried when I saw Finn go out after you. I can’t believe what he said to you.”

“Yeah, well after he cheated I can almost believe anything of him. I honestly just want him to go away.” I tried very hard not to think about what Finn had said of Bellamy and me.

“Well he’s not here now.” Bellamy said. This line of conversation was not helping my resolution to not think about Finn’s unfair claim.

I decided to laugh instead. “Yeah, no room.” As I felt the vibrations of Bellamy’s chuckle in my bones, I realized that my chest was flush against his. My ears heated. But I had no intention of moving.

Bellamy’s neck was a little flushed under his freckles. I moved my head up on his shoulder to get a better view of the entrancing patterns.

“Mmmmm,” I hummed. “You smell like flannel, wood, and something sweet.” I trailed my fingertips along his neck, making the flush more prominent.

Bellamy huffed another laugh, but tightened his grip on my waist and buried his nose in my hair. “Goodnight, Clarke.” His voice was a little strained.

“Goodnight, Bellamy.” I drifted off to sleep with a faint smile on my lips and a comforted, if not racing, heart.

I woke before him and snuck back to my own room. However, not before I folded up the borrowed pajamas and left a hastily scrawled note on top of them.

Thanks for sharing your bed, bestie. See you at brunch! :)

When I cautiously opened my door, Raven was at her desk clacking away at her laptop. “So, I see I wasn’t the only one to share a bed last night.” She said by way of greeting.

“Oh, please. It’s hardly my fault. It’s not like I could sleep in my own!” I smiled. “How was your engineering major by the way?”

Raven smirked. “Quite good. I think he might be back for a visit sometime soon.”

“Ew, gross!” I squealed. I was glad Raven seemed to like him though. I knew it had taken her a long time to get over Finn. Then I sighed, remembering last night.

“What?” Raven asked not ungently.

I put a hand to my forehead. “I might have kneed Finn in the balls last night.” Raven laughed long and hard, but I couldn’t. We were supposed to stay friends.

“Oh, don’t look so guilty. I’m sure he deserved it.” She paused. “What did he do to deserve it by the way? Not that he didn’t deserve it to begin with, but with you, there would have been a more pressing reason.”

My face turned red with anger. “Well, first, he said he still loved me, then he said that Bellamy and I were probably fucking.” Raven spouted even more laughter than the first time while I glared.

She took a break from laughing to ask, “Well did you? Fuck him that is?” My face turned an even brighter shade of red.

“No!”

“Who did you sleep with Clarke?”

“I didn’t sleep with anyone!” Raven just waited. “Ugh, fine! I slept in his bed with him but nothing happened!” Raven positively cackled.

“Whatever,” she said. “Stay in denial if you want.” Then, more earnestly, “But would you consider Bellamy, Clarke?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” I smiled as the warm knot settled in my chest.

[thoughtfullywingedwhispers-blog]

Only God’s Love Is Real

Xiaodong Sichuan Province

God said, “The Chinese nation which has been corrupted for thousands of years has continued on until today. All sorts of viruses continue to expand and are spreading everywhere like the plague; just looking at people’s relationships is enough to see how many viruses are in people. It’s extremely difficult for God to develop His work in such a tightly closed and virus-infected area. People’s personalities, habits, the way they do things, everything they express in their lives and their interpersonal relationships are all broken beyond belief …” (“The Path … (6)” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). The revelation in God’s words made me see how Satan’s corruption makes all relationships between people abnormal, because all are based on Satan’s philosophy of life, without containing even a shred of truth. Without God’s salvation, my eyes would still be covered and my emotions entrapped, but experiencing the work of God made me understand the essence of what it means to “help one another” and showed me the truth of friendship, love, and familial affection. I saw that only God’s words are the truth, and that only by living by God’s words could we escape the influence of Satan, and that only by comporting oneself according to the truth could one live out a meaningful life.

My parents were both Christians, and at the time our faith in Jesus brought us a great deal of grace. Especially in business, God blessed us with much in the way of material comforts. Most of my relatives weren’t as well off as our family, and my parents took good care of them financially and materially. My relatives had a great deal of respect for my parents, and naturally they looked at me with the same eye. That was the kind of advantageous environment I grew up in. I thought my friends and relatives were wonderful, and no matter what our family needed, they would be willing to help.

In 1998, my entire family accepted Almighty God’s work, and because of our desire for gaining blessings as well as because it was a difficult field, we stopped our family business. Some of our friends and relatives tried to persuade us otherwise, saying, “It’s such a shame to stop a business you spent so many years building.” There were others who mocked us behind our back, saying we’d earned enough to not need any more. Hearing these things made us sad, but we still decided to stop the business. Even though I had accepted Almighty God’s work, I still understood nothing about the corruption in mankind, so my heart still yearned for this world. I spent my days eating, drinking, and carousing with my close friends and relatives, and because I spent generously, I got more and more friends, and more and more classmate reunions, parties, classmates’ and friends’ birthdays and weddings, and other occasions couldn’t be held without inviting me, because I was too “important.” Beyond that, every Sunday I had to pick up and see off my girlfriend, and we often went out together. At that time, even though I never missed one of my three meetings a week at the church, I still had absolutely no understanding of God’s words, my heart still wandered in the world outside, and my belief in God felt like a yoke of rules. But God used environments to make me understand the truth. He showed me that relationships between people are based on nothing but mutual interest, and that there is no such thing as true feeling or love in them.

dark and evil world After the business stopped, my parents repaired our house and had to pay tuition for my sister and me, such that our family’s savings were almost gone after a few years, and because I depended on them for my income, there was a reduction in my own spending. I avoided weddings and gatherings, large or small, whenever I could, so my circle of friends began to shrink, and my status in the eyes of my friends became lower and lower. As the fortunes of my poorer friends and relatives improved, they associated less with us as well. This period was refining for me, because I felt I had no status in the hearts of others. Especially my girlfriend, who became more distant because I didn’t spend money as generously as I had in the past, and finally left me for someone else in 2001. When I learned of it, I couldn’t accept that it was real. I didn’t show it on the outside, but the knowledge was like a knife in my heart. I was loyal to her, my efforts for her were sincere, so why did I get her betrayal in return? That’s how our five-year relationship ended. I didn’t know how to forget her, so all I could do was bury the pain deep in my heart. After that, I hated it when others mentioned the incident. I couldn’t understand how something like this could happen to me. Then one day, I saw this passage of God’s word, “Most people live in the foul place of Satan, and suffer its derision; it teases them this way and that till they are half alive, enduring every vicissitude, every hardship in the human world. After toying with them, Satan puts an end to their destiny. And so people go through their whole lives in a daze of confusion, never once enjoying the good things that God has prepared for them, but instead being damaged by Satan and left in tatters. Today they have become so enervated and listless that they simply have no inclination to take notice of God’s work” (“Work and Entry (1)” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). The revelation in God’s words is a true portrayal of human life. Thinking back on how I spent my days drowning in lovesickness, living in an imaginary world of “romantic love.” I was inextricably trapped, and I had no idea at all that these things were Satan’s tricks to fool people, ruses designed to trap people and make them live without any goals and without inclination to take notice of God’s work. Although I called myself a believer in God, I spent my days worrying and laboring over friendship and love, and if circumstances hadn’t changed for me, I would still believe in those “pledges of eternal love” and “loyal friends,” and I would never have escaped it. Because of the breakup with my girlfriend, I cut off all my relationships with my classmates; without such a noisy environment I could still my heart and devote myself to my faith in God. At meetings, I fellowshiped with my brothers and sisters, and slowly, my wounded heart began to heal. I felt the long-forgotten joy, no longer lost or living in my pain. Because there were no interruptions from the outside world, I was able to still my mind and focus on meetings. I became more and more interested in faith in God, and from then on I began fulfilling my duties.

When my relatives learned I believed in God, there was no end to their disturbances. They thought I had no business believing in God at such a young age. My maternal aunt often asked me for favors, my paternal aunt asked me to do business with her, even my foster mother pushed me to get married, saying she would take care of my child after it was born (because she had no son of her own), and my grandmother cried, saying, “I have absolutely no objection to your parents believing in God, because they worked half their lifetimes and gave all they have to pave the way for you, so it’s time to let them rest. You should focus on starting a family and a career.” She then went on to describe how my father grew up in poverty, how he started from nothing, how much he suffered, how hard he worked, and said that I was in such a good environment, and that I had no ideals. Their sudden “concern” for me was very flattering. I was confused, because it seemed like what every one of them was saying was right, they all wanted the best for me, and since they were my closest relatives, of course they wouldn’t hurt me. If I didn’t do something when I was young, what would happen to me when I’m older? I was living in refinement, and even though I knew this was a spiritual battle, I didn’t have the strength to fight anymore. At a meeting, a leader showed me this passage from God’s word, “For thousands of years, the Chinese people have led the life of slaves, and this has so constrained their thoughts, concepts, life, language, behavior, and actions that they have been left without the slightest freedom. Several thousand years of history have taken vital people possessed of a spirit and worn them down into something akin to corpses bereft of a spirit. Many are those who live under the butcher’s knife of Satan…. On the outside, human beings appear to be higher ‘animals’; in fact, they live and reside with filthy demons. Without anyone to tend to them, people live inside Satan’s ambuscade, caught in its toils with no way of escape. Rather than saying that they gather with their loved ones in cozy homes, living happy and fulfilling lives, one should say that human beings live in Hades, dealing with demons and associating with devils” (“Work and Entry (5)” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). Through the revelation in God’s word and fellowship with my brothers and sisters, I realized that while they appear to be my relatives from the outside, and their words are in accord with the needs of my flesh, their thoughts, concepts, life, language, behavior, and actions are constrained because of Satan’s corruption. They are all unbelievers, all of their viewpoints and all they discuss come from Satan, and what they pursue are all the evil desires of the flesh, none of which are in accord with the truth, and because I have none of the truth and no discernment, further contact with them would only make me more degenerate. I would gain nothing from it, they could only bring me to ruination. At that time, I had some understanding of the saying “All unbelievers are the devil,” about which my brothers and sisters often fellowshiped, but I still didn’t fully grasp it. Later, God arranged circumstances that showed me the true essence of family ties.

Our family has always been a host family, and one day in 2005, thanks to an evildoer’s report, my parents and several brothers and sisters were arrested by the great red dragon. My birth sister fortunately survived a near-drowning as she fled, only escaping with her life because God protected her. My parents and the brothers and sisters at my family’s house were detained and fined, and all were tortured, all came out with injuries. When I heard the news, I couldn’t control my emotions. I didn’t have the heart to fulfill my duties. I thought, “At a time like this I should go home no matter what. My parents raised me, and now that they’re in trouble, even if I can’t do anything, I should at least be there to check up on them and comfort them.” So, I took the train home and went straight to my paternal aunt’s house (who also believes in God) to see my parents. At that time I saw their wounds had not healed, I felt horrible inside, and tears burst from my eyes. It felt like my parents had been humiliated. That’s when my parents told me: During the escape from the great red dragon, my birth sister dove into the river (this happened in December, after dark). The water was up to her neck, and the river currents were strong, wild plants were found caught on her pant leg, her shoes were stuck in the mud, and she didn’t know how to swim, so it was an utter mystery how she got to the other side. God must have miraculously protected her, or the results would have been too terrible to contemplate (the deep water and strong currents had taken the life of a man in his 40’s several days before). Later, my birth sister hid at the house of an older sister who gave my sister a change of clothes while crying as she dried her wet clothes over the fire, and otherwise took very good care of her. Several days after that she learned that this older sister’s house was no longer safe, so my birth sister went to hide at my maternal aunt’s home. She came out during the day to bring a letter to our church informing our leader of my family’s situation, but when she returned, my maternal aunt’s younger daughter said to her, “Hey cousin, why did you come back? I thought you left. We’ve already folded up the bed.” My sister realized my maternal aunt was afraid of getting involved and didn’t want to let her stay there, so crying, she left their home, and risked arrest to come home because she had nowhere else to go. After my parents were released, when they learned about my sister’s near-drowning and how she was kicked out by my maternal aunt, they were very angry, but my maternal aunt, in a tone convinced she was right, answered with, “That’s right, we are afraid of getting involved. You brought these arrests on yourselves. You had a perfectly good life, but you had to go and screw it up, and now you almost got someone killed!” I never imagined that my closest relatives, the people closest to me in the past, at a time when the great red dragon was arresting my family and their lives were in danger, at a time when comfort is needed most of all, would actually say such inhumane words or do such cruel things. To know that they could made me very sad. None of the people we helped most in the past came to check in on us or comfort us. Those who had the best relationships with us not only didn’t speak to my parents when they met on the street, they moved out of my parents’ path. Some who used to nod and say hello to us now turned their backs to us and gossiped. Only our brothers and sisters came to visit us and fellowship in the evenings. I never believed our family could come to such an abject state. I was again trapped in refinement, with thoughts of betraying God forming in my heart. Later, after receiving a revelation from God, I experienced what my brothers and sisters had fellowshiped about, “Relationships between people are based on nothing but mutual interest, family and friends merely help one another, being relationships built on a foundation of mutual use.” I also thought back to my parents’ talk about what they gained from their experience of being arrested by the great red dragon, for example: When the great red dragon used a leather whip to beat my father, he said he didn’t feel too much pain, and that the belt broke into three pieces as they hit him. My sister said she didn’t feel any fear at all during her experience, and even though it was December, she said she never felt cold coming out of the water. God gave her extra strength and confidence. Arrest by the great red dragon had actually made their faith more steadfast. It had made them stronger. My father said that he hadn’t believed God’s words in the past, and that he was an admirer of the great red dragon, but this incident had shown him the great red dragon was merely a gang of thugs, bandits who would take away anything in our house worth money and would rather arrest law-abiding believers in God than murderers and arsonists. I was ashamed when I understood that we all live under God’s leadership, everything we experience is part of God’s sovereignty and arrangement, no person has the power to help another, familial affection will only drive us away from God, and that the things people can help each other with only accord with the flesh, not with the truth. Thoughts like “not wanting my parents’ flesh to suffer” not only bring no benefit to their life, they bring no benefit to their salvation. Only God knows what man needs, and God loves man the most. I saw a passage of God’s word that said, “From when He created the world, God has done much work involving the vitality of life, has done much work that brings life to man, and has paid a great price so that man might gain life, for God Himself is eternal life, and God Himself is the way by which man is resurrected. God is never absent from the heart of man, and lives among man at all times. He has been the driving force of man’s living, the fundament of man’s existence, and a rich deposit for man’s existence after birth. He causes man to be reborn, and enables him to tenaciously live in his every role. Thanks to His power, and His inextinguishable life force, man has lived for generation after generation, throughout which the power of God’s life has been the mainstay of man’s existence, and for which God has paid a price that no ordinary man has ever paid. God’s life force can prevail over any power; moreover, it exceeds any power. His life is eternal, His power extraordinary, and His life force not easily overwhelmed by any created being or enemy force. The life force of God exists, and shines its brilliant radiance, regardless of time or place. God’s life remains forever unchanged throughout the upheavals of heaven and earth. All things pass away, but God’s life still remains, for God is the source of the existence of all things, and the root of their existence. Man’s life originates from God, the existence of the heaven is because of God, and the existence of the earth stems from the power of God’s life. No object possessed of vitality can transcend the sovereignty of God, and no thing with vigor can break away from the ambit of God’s authority. In this way, regardless of who they are, everyone must submit under the dominion of God, everyone must live under God’s command, and no one can escape from His control” (“Only Christ of the Last Days Can Give Man the Way of Eternal Life” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). Through God’s words and reality, I experienced the extraordinariness and greatness of God’s life force, that He lives among man at all times, at all times guides mankind and displays His power, and that every person lives in arrangements masterminded by God. Facing God’s word, I saw how tiny I was and how insignificant emotional ties are. What could I have done against the difficulties my family faced? Wasn’t God the one who protected them, cared for them, and led them through the crisis? Can man’s love of another man be greater than God’s love for man? At the same time, God’s words judged me, “Who among you can truly expend wholly for Me and offer up their all for Me? You are all half-hearted, your thoughts go round and round, thinking of home, the outside world, food and clothing. Despite the fact that you are before Me doing things for Me, in your heart you still think of your wife, children and parents at home—are all these your property? Why don’t you commit them into My hands? Do you not believe in Me enough? Or is it that you’re afraid I will make inappropriate arrangements for you? Why do you always miss your home? And miss other people! Do I occupy a certain position in your heart? And you still talk about letting Me have dominion within you and occupy your whole being—these are all deceptive lies! How many of you are for the church with all your hearts? And who among you think not of yourselves, but are for the kingdom of today? Think very carefully about this” (“The Fifty-ninth Utterance” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). I saw that what I cared for in my heart was still my family, because I didn’t have true faith in God, I still couldn’t entrust them completely to God’s hands; I saw that I did not live in the truth, and even though I was performing my duties in God’s house, I often worried about my family, and did not let God occupy my heart. I could not respect God above all others and faithfully perform my duties. I had been fooled and afflicted by Satan. If not for these “unfortunate” things happening to me, I never would have seen things clearly. It’s just as this hymn of God’s word says, “When it comes to the state of man’s life, man has yet to find the real life, he still hasn’t seen through to the desolation and miserable conditions of the world; were it not for the advent of disaster, people would still embrace Mother Nature, and would still engross themselves in the flavor of ‘life.’ Is this not the voice of salvation that God speaks forth to man? Why, among mankind, has no one ever truly loved God? Why does man love God only in the midst of chastisement, yet no one loves God under His protection?” (“Mankind Does Not Know God’s Salvation” in Follow the Lamb and Sing New Songs). If not for what these circumstances revealed to me, I never would have truly understood the relationships between people, and I would still be controlled by family ties, love, and friendship, inextricably trapped in the pursuit of these things, deceived and made to suffer by them, happy in my ignorance; if not for the “disaster” that befell me, I would still be pursuing evil worldly trends, unable to see my own lowliness; if not for the chastisement and judgment , I never would have received the truth, never would have taken the correct path of life, and it was God’s salvation that allowed me to never taste the flavor of “life” again. When I understood all this, I decided that I would wholeheartedly believe in God and pursue the truth to repay God’s love for me.

In 2007, when I returned to my hometown to perform my duties, I learned that a brother who joined the faith with me, because he couldn’t see through the darkness and evil in society, surrendered to the temptations of the world, betrayed God, and left God’s family. His parents and the brothers and sisters repeatedly fellowshiped with him to convince him to stay, but he stubbornly turned his head and refused to look back, choosing instead to return to the world. Before long his entrapment in these worldly trends became deeper. He was a handsome man and had made quite a lot of money, so he started involving himself with many women. Eventually he was murdered, and we heard his organs were sold. His parents never saw his body. I felt sorry for him when I heard the story, but I also saw the tragic result of pursuing worldly trends, and even more so I saw how God used my parents’ urging to stop my return to the world, which made me experience God’s care and protection of me, and made me understand that having money in this world is a downhill path that ends in ruination of the self. God said, “Poor mankind—how could they know that the land upon which they were raised is the land of the devil, that the one who raised them is actually an enemy who hurts them. Yet man does not awaken at all; having sated his hunger and thirst, he prepares to repay the ‘kindness’ of his parents in bringing him up. That is how man is. Today, he still doesn’t know that the ‘king’ who raised him is his enemy. The earth is littered with the bones of the dead, the devil makes manic merry without cease, and carries on devouring the flesh of man in the ‘netherworld,’ sharing a grave with human skeletons and vainly attempting to consume the last remnants of the tattered body of man. Yet man is ever ignorant, and has never treated the devil as his enemy, but instead serves it with all his heart” (“Work and Entry (9)” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). Through God’s words I saw the truth, that this is how Satan corrupts mankind, I saw that its malicious essence will eventually swallow men, and that without God’s timely salvation, I too would have been swallowed by this evil worldly trend and been buried with it. Upon understanding this, I offered my sincerest thanks and praise to God! It was God’s mercy, grace, and protection that carried me to this day.

Only God's love is real I have now performed my duties in God’s family for several years, and in God’s family I have experienced God’s love. No matter where I perform my duties, God is always there to take care of me. I get along with my brothers and sisters as if they were family, we don’t use each other, and there is no exchange of benefits. My brothers and sisters are so sincere that even if our corruption shows through to each other at times, through opening our hearts and communicating about our understanding of ourselves, there are no grudges or guardedness. We help each other and offer one another love, everyone is viewed equally, and no one is treated differently because they are poor or rich. I have health problems, so I often get sick, but my brothers and sisters are very considerate and take very good care of me, which made me experience that even without blood ties among my brothers and sisters, they can be even closer than relatives. I get along well with my brothers and sisters, and with God’s guidance, we all pursue the truth and strive to perform our duties.

My experiences throughout these years have also helped me gradually come to understand God’s will, as well as to see that the work God has done upon me is the work of salvation and love, the words expressed by God are the truth, but more so that they are the words which save our lives. These truths have become God’s best care and protection for me. If I departed from these words or did not view things from the basis these words provide, I would ruin myself. I was deeply corrupted by Satan and unable to directly grasp the meaning of God’s words, so God arranged many different circumstances, people, matters, and things, designed for my needs, to benefit and perfect me, to help me understand His words. Amid my hardships and trials, I unwittingly came to see that these words expressed by God are all truth, that they are things that mankind needs. Not only do they grant mankind life and allow him to live out the life of a normal man, they also point out the correct path in life, because God is the truth, the way, and the life. As the word of God says, “I do not need man to do anything but accept the reality of My words and the original meaning of My words. Though My words are simple, in substance they are complex, for you are too small, and have grown too numb. When I reveal My mysteries directly and make plain My will in the flesh, you take no notice; you listen to My voice, but do not understand the meaning. I am overcome with sadness. Although I am in the flesh, I am unable to do the work of the ministry of the flesh” (“The Ninth Utterance” of God’s Utterances to the Entire Universe in The Word Appears in the Flesh). In God’s word I saw both the urgency and sadness in God’s heart. All the words God expresses are the truth, but mankind is too small in stature and too numb, and so pays no notice of God’s will, which fills God with melancholy. I want to comfort God and cooperate with Him, and even though there is much of the truth I don’t understand, through my continuing pursuit of the truth and fulfilling my duties, God will provide me enlightenment and illumination so that I may understand His words. There is still much corruption in me that must be purified, and I need to experience much more of God’s work as well as God’s judgment and chastisement and the accompanying hardships and refinements, but God’s demands of man are not high. He asks only that I accept the reality of His words.

In the past, when I had just started believing in God, I did not love and treasure these words of His, but the circumstances God arranged for me and years of refinement made me see these words of God as riches, but without those circumstances I never would have gained a true understanding of God’s words. I offer my praise and thanks to God! It was God who saved me, and it was the words of life from God that awakened me and rescued me from a life of being deceived under Satan’s influence. In God’s words, I came to know the true meaning of life, etc. I came to know that God has always cared for mankind, and has always watched over and protected mankind, understand that mankind cannot leave the supply, nourishment, watering, and support of God’s words, that only God is the truth, the way, and the life, and know that there is no salvation but through Him. God’s words carried me to today, and I want to make God’s words my motto, my marker on the path forward, and a guide for my conduct. Oh God! You saved me, Your words awakened me, keeping me from going astray. I want to follow You along this path all my life and never leave You, and no matter what trouble or difficulties my decision may bring me, in any situation, I wish to follow in Your footsteps to accompany You and comfort You, and I will follow You to the end of the road, always and forever!

[writeanapocalae]

The Tower of Purity

The World of Gray | The Sleeping World | The World of Gray | The World of Gray| The Falling Plane of Loss | The Falling Plane of Loss | The Falling Plane of Loss | The Sleeping World | The Sleeping World | The Sleeping World | The Sleeping World | The Falling Plane of Loss | The Falling Plane of Loss | The Falling Plane of Loss | The Tower of Purity | The Tower of Purity | The Tower of Purity | The Tower of Purity | The Tower of Purity

Casteval did the fighting for them, screaming and bucking, trying to escape the hands that held him. He felt a pulse of heat come from them, but didn’t care, he kept pulling. “You don’t want them! You want me! I’m the one who will fight back, who will do whatever he can to stop you!” it was all bating, he knew that, they knew that. He couldn’t hurt any of them, not when they were together.

He looked at the chair, at the man in the stool. He couldn’t do anything. If he was the one in it, he wouldn’t be able to fight. It was only when someone else was in danger that he could do anything. It would have been smarter for them to take him first.

Erimot was dropped into the chair callously, though they did nothing to stop it, nothing to make themself more comfortable against the cushion. Casteval was still shouting, begging and threatening, but Erimot just gave him a small look, his blue eye hurting and tired.

Casteval deflated. This was the next step in their rebirth. It wasn’t the right next step, they were supposed to go to that place of flesh, like Carmilla had told them, not here. Perhaps, they didn’t want to leave this place, perhaps they wanted to lose all of themself. They were the Living Vessel and that fact didn’t seem to sit well with them.

Still, Casteval couldn’t let it go. He wanted to stop this. There was no reason for them to lose who they were.

Erimot closed their eye.

It looked so much like surrender. They did nothing as the cuffs closed around their wrists. They did nothing as the small man drew near, picking up the best tool for the job. He was tutting to himself, about Erimot’s hard crest, how best to crack it.

Erimot opened their eye.

The blue was gone, as was the red. All that there was was black. A few of the people, and they were people, Casteval could now tell, all deformed and horrific, gasped and stepped back. None of them stood against them.

The black shot out of Erimot’s eye then, thick tendrils splitting and multiplying, a massive network of limbs spreading out, pushing the old man away, pushing through all of the barriers in the room. Reaching and cloying and gathering Casteval.

And Casteval knew. This was what was in the sword. This was the swords connection to Casteval. Erimot had swallowed it as if it were a god, let it permeate and grow within them, and now was using it.

Casteval was free from the grip of the burned man, was free of all of it, aside from Casteval’s sword and Erimot’s care. He searched his person. The moment he was released, he’d have to do something. He had the sword still and the veins around them were encircling it, more than they were connecting with Casteval, shooting up his sleeves and pantlegs, trying to become one with him. He couldn’t use the sword against all of them. There were too many.

There were too many black limbs as well. He could hardly see through them. He knew he was getting closer to Erimot, but that was it. He could feel the slithering veins around his neck, going down his collar, stretch and pull at his limbs, try to find a way to connect, though his body, his mind more likely, was still fighting them off.

Amongst the darkness he could see the purple glow of the bottle at his side, still wrapped securely in the net. He didn’t know what it was, but it was bright, and it had to hold something important. Everything in that pit had been important. He’d given away something, something very important, and it had glowed in the same way as the bottle, though he didn’t remember why.

Memories. Remembering things was impure, was wrong, was something that these things would despise beyond all else.

“Erimot!” Casteval shouted as loudly as he could, hoping that his voice would be heard through the walls of darkness. “Erimot! I know what to do! Let me go, I’m going to get you out of here!”

Erimot’s face, half submerged in the darkness seeping from them, came through the veins. The limbs parted around their face and they were shaking so terribly, were even more pale and shaky than Casteval had ever seen them. They were so weak. All of this, whatever good Casteval had done, this had undone.

“You are Casteval,” Erimot whined. “Why didn’t you tell me you were Casteval?”

There was so much hurt in their voice. It was almost as if Casteval had betrayed them. He hadn’t, he didn’t want to, he would never want to. Erimot, for as short a time as they’d known each other, was his friend. He didn’t want to hurt them.

“I’m not Casteval,” Casteval wanted to scream, forced himself to speak calmly. He would never be done saying those words, “People keep saying that I am, but I’m not. I just have the same name as him.”

“This wouldn’t be happening if you weren’t Casteval.” Erimot meant the vines, not their circumstances, and glanced around as best they could with such things taking up their eye.

“People want me to become Casteval. I’m afraid the sword, that, wants me to be him too. I don’t want to be him, Erimot. I want to be me. I have always just wanted to be me.”

“And you think you, not the hero, just you yourself, can get us out of here?”

Casteval nodded.

“I hate this.”

Erimot shuddered and closed their eye, the lids severing the branches. They stilled, hardening around them, around all of them, before becoming brittle and shattering, becoming nothing more than dust. Casteval was slightly aware of falling, but it was short lived, and he was on his feet when he landed, only falling a few extra inches to right himself.

The darkness fell into piles of dust around them and the others, those things that were human once but now something much much worse, were pinned to the walls, having been shoved away. The injuries looked bad, bruises and blood on so many of them, a few bones twisted the wrong way.

“You’re going to let us go now,” Casteval ordered, hand untying the rope around his waist. “If that wasn’t a good enough reason for you, perhaps this is.”

A few eyes flickered down to his waist as he grabbed the bottle, holding it out promptly. “I’m sure you all know what this is.” He didn’t, he wasn’t sure anyway, but the way that they flinched, feared him and his bottle, was enough to give him confidence. “You will release my friend and we will leave this place, go along our way unmolested, or I will use this.”

He didn’t know how to use it. They didn’t have to know that.

All of them glanced at one another, none of them sure as to what they were supposed to do. Casteval had the upper hand, but they had a job to do. The red woman trembled, looking over the others, the most powerful of them all. She nodded though and the battered, bruised, and broken of them backed away from the door.

One of them, almost normal looking although so thin that the bones were poking through gray skin in places, undid the bindings on Erimot’s wrists. Another helped them into Casteval’s arms. It was all rather cordial, comparatively. Casteval almost felt inclined to thank them but he swallowed that urge.

No one tried to get in their way as they went through the door, as they walked through the somber halls. The path was easier now, almost lit up, as if the building itself wanted them out.

While there were a million doors, and none of them were locked, Casteval didn’t bother with any of them. They just led to other rooms, other people who were here because they wanted to be but perhaps had forgotten that fact. Casteval didn’t look back, even though he wanted to know if those in charge here were following them.

At the end of the path, it was easy to tell where to go. While there were a few rooms, a few doors, there was only one set of double doors, only one entrance that had a bar over the door. Casteval shifted his hold on Erimot so that he could use one of his hands, and pushed the bar to the side.

There was nothing out there. The door was open but out there there was just a gray beach. It looked almost like that gray place that Casteval had started in, so much water and fog, but they were on a small island. Casteval was certain, as well, that the water was far deeper. Still, he could see the outline of a door out in the fog, and there were the bones of boats sitting amongst the sand, half buried in places.

Casteval squinted, tried to see, and did see a figure out there, near the door, who was peering back at them, one hand raised. There was something off about the figure, not like those they’d left behind, but something else, closer to have Carmilla and Erimot were, altered by people’s perceptions of them.

The figure was standing on something and was holding what looked like a long staff. Casteval could only guess that it was the last remaining boat and the figure was the ferryman from the door to the island itself.

Casteval did not want to go through the door. Erimot would not survive another encounter like the last and they didn’t need to. They deserved to rest.

Now safe, Casteval put the bottle back into the net around his waist. He didn’t need it right now. Now that he had some idea of what it was, he was curious, but he would save it until he truly needed it.

Casteval stepped out, into the water, feeling the cold of it wrap around his legs like the skeletal hands of the dead, icy cold and wrong in so many ways. At his touch lights formed, in all different colors, swimming around him, bioluminescent. The figure just watched. The lights weren’t algae though, nor were they fish, but the impurities from within the building, the memories that were more instinct than memory.

Casteval took another step, focusing on what he needed to focus on, what Ranvert had told him to focus on. Home, bed, comfort and warmth and a good meal. He was going home.

He took a third step and on this one the water went on forever and he was stepping as if he was rounding a corner, until the world was a different one than he’d been in before.

@kly-writes, @mynameis3-14, @anhathaway, @writing-at-dusk, @itskassidywrites, @ghost-possum, @blank-nova-trash, @paladin-andric

[dmmowers]

No Condemnation

No Condemnation A sermon for Trinity Episcopal Church, Baraboo, Wis. Sixth Sunday After Pentecost | Year A, Track 2 | July 16, 2017 Isaiah 55:10-13 | Psalm 65 | Romans 8:1-11 | Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

My father died six years ago next month. He had a brain aneurysm at age 57 and lived three weeks after that, but never made it out of ICU. That episode, in the middle of 2011, is a significant milestone along the path to finding myself here as your Rector. That's another story. The reason I bring this up this morning is that in the aftermath of his death, I carried his work cell phone around for a couple of days. It was the old kind of flip phone. Raise the antenna, flip it open, tiny screen. I remember my surprise the first time I opened his phone and turned it on. There was space on the top of the screen for a short line of text that my dad had customized, and it said "Romans 8:1". I didn't know what Romans 8:1 was. I had loved the Bible for a number of years, and at times had posted Bible verses around in prominent places where I could see them. Romans 8:1, though, was not one of those verses. So I went and looked it up: "There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus."

My father was a good man, but a sinner like the rest of us. He took his failings hard, maybe harder than most people - a trait that I am certain I have inherited from him. More than once growing up my dad would lose his temper, or be short or curt with someone in our family, and then he would go away and come back later and apologize, and I could tell -- even as a teenager who was maybe not so inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt -- that he felt badly about whatever it was he was apologizing for. As a pastor, now, with a lot of experience with this sort of thing, I can look back and guess that the time between when he would walk away and when he would come back and apologize was filled with a lot of voices in his head, berating him for not being good enough as a parent, as a spouse, as a Christian.

And so, when we began to attend the Pentecostal Church where I was formed in high school, the place where I and my dad both learned to love Scripture, I can only imagine the joy that overtook him when he first ran across our passage from Paul's Letter to the Romans this morning. "There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." I. This is the good news that we have from God: even though we on our own were unable to cope with the power of Sin and death, God has been faithful to set us free from slavery to sin. We've heard a lot over the last five weeks about the Power of Sin - how it was at work in the world to destroy us, to condemn us, how it came into the world through the disobedience of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. As a response, God chose Abraham to be the father of a chosen people, Israel, who would receive the Law and live according to it so that they would be a blessing to all nations. But Israel failed over and over to live according to the Law, because the Law was used by the Power of Sin to exploit the weakness of human beings. When you tell a toddler not to touch a stove, the first thing they think is that they should see about touching the stove. That is the same weakness that prevented the Law from achieving its purpose and setting people free from the Power of Sin.  

All of this provokes theological questions for some people. If choosing Abraham and his descendants as his people was God's response to sin, doesn't Israel's disobedience mean that God's plan has failed? In other words, if God's solution for the sin that entered the world through humanity was to call Israel and give them the Law, didn't that solution fail? And do we really want to follow a God whose solutions fail?

Other people wonder about Jesus' death. Questions like, "Why did Jesus have to die, anyway? Couldn't God have just gotten out his magic wand and made sin go away some other way? Why did Jesus have to offer himself on the cross in order to condemn sin? If Jesus' death really did conquer sin, then why is the world such a cruel place? Wouldn't it have made more of a difference if Jesus had actually dealt with sin in the flesh?

II. 

And finally, if Jesus' death really means that there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, why do we still experience so much condemnation? We have a political culture that no longer debates ideas but rather throws around personal insults as if that is the best way to ensure that the government continues to function. Baraboo and Sauk County are not immune from this political culture: go read the comments in the News Republic about the county board chairman, or about investigations into the highway department, or the roundabout in front of St. Vinny's, or a dozen other things, and you will see that we are so often a people who do not debate ideas, but rather who call people names and condemn each other. 

I'm sorry to say that in my experience Christians fare little better on condemning other people than the general population. This week, Religion News Service ran an interview with the famous pastor and writer Eugene Peterson. Peterson is best known for The Message paraphrase of the Bible, but he was a pastor to a church in Bel Air, Maryland for 50 years prior to his retirement a few years ago. He has recently published When Kingfishers Catch Fire, which he has said will be his final book. I have a number of his books on my shelves and have found him to be a wise pastor to me, as well as a faithful, interesting reader of Scripture. Now, at age 84, he is retiring from public life and will no longer write or speak, and so agreed to be interviewed by RNS. At the end of the interview, Peterson was asked if he was still pastoring today, and a couple of the same sex came to him to ask him to marry them, whether he would do it. He answered, Yes. The next day, the internet exploded. Headlines blared about this famous pastor's change of heart. People who support the Church's recognition of same sex marriage fell all over themselves to praise Peterson. On the other side, blogs pulsed with rage over Peterson's thin reasoning and abandonment of biblical principles. The following day, Peterson published a retraction, stating that he had been taken off guard by the question and that he had been confused. He now said that he supported the church only recognizing marriage between men and women, but that he loved the gay people he pastored and that they had been and would always be welcome at his table. The internet exploded again. Headlines blared that Peterson had been pressured into retracting his change of mind. Blogs raged over how Peterson couldn't give a clear answer and so could no longer be trusted. The people who had rushed to praise him yesterday now condemned him.

This is what happens when we treat people as collections of positions, as a set of viewpoints. When we fail to attribute the best motives towards those whom we disagree with, when we fail to give our opponents on hard issues the benefit of the doubt, we are often doing so because we need to be right more than we need to care about the person with whom we're talking. We want to win arguments, to be heard without having to listen, to convince others without having to do the hard work of understanding what they are saying. We fail to give grace to others, and that leads us to fail to give grace to ourselves. If you're anything like me, the loudest voices of condemnation you hear come from inside your own head. Maybe you think about what others think of you. Maybe you think about your unemployment, or how small your paycheck is, or that you got too sick to work and had to retire, and the voice in your head is there to tell you, "You're worthless. Your life is over. Give up." 

Condemnation is rampant in our world, and in our own community. How can we, Trinity Church, make a difference for people in our community who only hear voices of condemnation? As I have lived among you as your Rector for these last four months, I know many of us care deeply about these people. My hope for this community is that we would become known as a place that does not let people sit in the darkness of condemnation, a people that goes out to the hurting so that they might be comforted. God would have us be a presence in this community that would tell the brokenhearted that in Jesus Christ, there is no condemnation, that the Power of Sin no longer has the final word, that they can be set free by the Spirit of Life. 

III.

But that doesn't stop us from wrestling with hard theological questions. In fact, the amount of condemnation in our world propels us to ask hard questions. If Jesus' death conquered the realm of the flesh and the power of sin, why is there so much condemnation in the world and inside our own heads? Why did Jesus have to die? Did God fail when he gave the Law to Israel? Why couldn't God have done something about sin without the crucifixion?

God's plan didn't fail. From the creation of the world, he knew that the command to Adam and Eve would be broken, that the Law would be misused by the power of sin. He knew that people would be bound up by the power of Sin, that the people of Israel would never keep the Law, and what's more, especially when they DID manage to keep the Law, it was not enough to deal with the power of Sin. God was at war, engaged in a cosmic struggle against the Power of Sin and Death, against Satan. Something decisive would need to be done to break them of their power. Sin had latched onto the creation God loved, onto the people God loved like an infectious disease sickening everything and everyone it touched. Such a strong illness required strong medicine.

So God came to Earth as a human being, Jesus Christ, to do something about sin. He was the person from outside, apart from the universal force of sin, who could do something about sin in the flesh. In coming to Earth as a human being, submitting to the most degrading death imaginable, Jesus conquered the Power of Sin. He became the Lord over sin. In conquering death, Jesus has submitted himself to the judgment that the Power of Sin rightfully deserved. He has heard the Father pronounce the death sentence over the Power of Sin and he offered himself as Jewish Messiah and Suffering Servant to take that sentence in his own body, and then the Spirit of life raised him from the dead, opening for us a new way of living and the hope that at the end of time, we will be raised from the dead just as he was. Because Jesus Christ invaded Earth, there is now a new possibility is open to us, a possibility that is without condemnation: living life in the power of the Spirit.

Everything depends on the pardon that God has extended to us through Jesus Christ. Everything depends on whether that word of no condemnation is spoken to each of us and that we also hear it. If that word of no condemnation is addressed to us and we hear it, we know that there is no longer a judgment to be feared - not from God, not from anyone else - because Jesus has taken the judgment onto himself. (Barth, CD II/1, 403)

The Father sent the Son as Messiah to offer himself to conquer sin, so that his death could defeat death and offer to us eternal life. IV.

That eternal life begins right now. For those of us who struggle with the voices in our own heads, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. You lose a job and don't find another one immediately and tell yourself that you are a failure? There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. Your house is messy and your lawn isn't mowed, and you just know that your mother would be flipping in her grave if she could see your house now? There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. You missed a payment on a bill and it feels like your life is just a pile of second notices? There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. You don't make it to church very much and you feel guilty every time you do for all the times that you're not here? There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. The life that Jesus offers us is a life where we are free to be ourselves without fear of being condemned by others, a life where we admit to God and to each other that we are broken, that we need help, that we need the Spirit of Life to transform us, to make us new, to undo the effects of the Power of Sin in our lives. 

I yearn for us here at Trinity to be sharing our lives together deeply so that we can experience the faithfulness of Jesus through each other. I yearn for us to be able to share our faults, our struggles, our real-life problems with each other, and for our community to be a place where we can do that without fear of condemnation. I yearn for us to study the Scriptures together, to pray together, to eat together so that our life as a community following Jesus will be deeply compelling to those who observe it. May Baraboo know that we are Christians, not because of our rush to condemn people who disagree with us, but because of the ways in which we love each other. And remember, as I like to say from time to time: love is an action verb, not a feeling. Jesus' death has made this kind of community life possible because we are not in the flesh, we are not bound to the law of sin and death any longer. If Christ is in us, we have life because of his righteousness. 

Thanks be to God. Amen.

[echoesofmyfootsteps]

Gotta include the tags from this fantastic meta on Ben Solo’s characterization by @frumfrumfroo; READ TO THE END:

#he is a good boy though okay #the fact that he's a broken person rather than someone more inclined to dark paths doesn't lessen his redemption #he still did Very Bad Things and being convinced it was necessary or inevitable doesn't make it okay when a part of you knows it's not true #healing is the thing everyone has trouble beleiving in #and it's just as difficult to heal from misguidedness you were traumatised into as willful shittiness #maybe more so #because it feels less like a bad decision and more like you're just fucked up and can't help being fucked up #he'd still be just as redeemable if he were far more evil #but he is baby and I LOVE that about him #because there's nothing I love more than characters who are not what they appear to be #anyway reason 487389750783 he needed to live #it's not that he 'deserves' it more it's that you have to show you can recover #that you're not worthless if you can't be the perfect victim and pull yourself up by your bootstraps

I’m new here and couldn’t tell from the tone of some asks (sorry) but did you like what they did with Ben in TRoKR ? I saw the discussions abt him lacking agency in it and I 100% agree but did you personality agree w/ the passive, “things only happen to me” vibe they gave him? And second question: can u give examples of how soule’s writing was telegrsmed in TFA? Thank u for taking the time xx

Like I’ve said before, it’s exactly the kind of backstory I would have written for him/always imagined. I had expected to find out he didn’t kill the other students/fought them in self defence/it was some kind of accident or emotional overload incident in TLJ. That was where everything was pointing.

Someone this insecure and conflicted about what he’s doing, someone who prays for help to resist his loving nature and cries when he sees his dad, who is so uncomfortable with himself he is covered head to toe not even his voice unmasked, who immediately latches on to the protagonist as a kindred spirit in loneliness and needs her to know he’s not a creature and wants to help her rather than hurt her- that’s not a person who had an eyes-open, all-in fall to the dark side full of decisive action and unhindered agency.

Leia saying ‘it was Snoke’ told us from the get go we’re in a situation where he was haunted and manipulated. His subservience and rote, childish repetition of ‘the Supreme Leader is wise’ when Han tells him Snoke doesn’t care about him. The constant, ongoing contradiction of his behaviour and motives tell us he has no conviction in the cause he’s supposedly supporting. His self-harm and naked suffering in the face of his own actions, his recklessness and inability to commit to selfishness and lack of ambition tell us those aren’t qualities which drove him here. He is highly emotionally driven, there’s no tangible goal and he doesn’t have a vision of the future. So why is he on the dark side?

It’s not that things only happen to him or that he’s passive, it’s that Ben has never pursued or been comfortable with what darkness really is and that has always been obvious. He tries very, very hard and fights tooth and claw to cling to something good in the comic until all of it is in ashes- he’s not passive, but he can’t win. No one can hold out forever against that kind of relentless onslaught. That he was absolutely a victim doesn’t mean he has no agency in his later choices. He’s not absolved of responsibility. But his reluctance and victimhood only makes sense, anything else would be incongruous with TFA.

There was never pursuit of power for power’s sake from him- there’s nothing he wants that the dark side can give him, he is there literally because he felt he had nowhere else to go. I said this before TLJ even came out. He felt he could not escape it, both because of the fatalism his family unintentionally instilled in him and because Snoke convinced him none of them loved him, that he is only useful or valued as a tool. Ben is a person who doesn’t believe he has any inherent value just for himself- just Ben, he believes that he can’t be forgiven for the sin of being born a disappointment, and that everything is his fault because he’s wrong and bad no matter what he does. None of his choices feel to him like real choices, all of his options appear to have been taken from him, and he feels compelled to plunge forward on the only remaining path. The comic provided an emotionally and logically cogent explanation for exactly why he would feel that way which is completely consistent with all the implications about his past and his characterisation from the films.

As I’ve pointed out before, there’s a reason he says ‘it’s too late’ to coming home not ‘I don’t want to’. There’s a reason he says ‘what I have to do’ and ‘he (I) was weak and foolish’- there’s a reason he needs Han’s help to go through with killing his father. It’s not about what he wants (he wants to go home with his dad- he thinks he can’t), he has never felt free to make his own choices or that freedom is possible for him.

Even at his darkest he never became cruel, he never enjoyed killing or hurting people, and he totally fails to suppress his instinct to be compassionate. He has a highly developed conscience and an overflowing core of empathy he can’t seal off. That’s why he’s so miserable as he pushes himself to do things he finds abhorrent- but he thinks he has to, there’s no escape, it’s the only way. In the sequence which establishes this character, even before any layers are stripped away or the investment we naturally have in him because of who he is is revealed, one of the first things we see him do is have compassion for F/nn. Those two characters are connected and a comparison is invited- this is visual storytelling showing you that they have something in common (it will be made clear later on that Ben saw himself in F/nn and that’s why he takes his actions so personally- cognitive dissonance).

F/nn was a good person trapped in the mask of the stormtrooper by circumstances beyond his control, but he is able to reject it and reclaim his identity. Ben is a good person hounded into the mask of Kylo Ren by his family’s failure to reconcile with Vader. The crushing weight of their expectations and their total lack of faith in him combined with their lies and Snoke’s manipulation convinces him there is ‘too much Vader in him’ and that Ben Solo isn’t and never will be good enough for anyone. That his love, compassion, and selflessness are all weaknesses which will only cause both him and the galaxy further suffering.

He is the most morally sensitive person in the new gen, he is the most outward-orientated and loving. His impulse is to be selfless and helpful, but that impulse has been relentlessly punished until he mistrusts it and thinks he must repress his wrong instincts and serve a ‘greater order’ guided by someone stronger than him. He has an acute sense of the impact of his actions and he considers it (even when he loses control of his emotions, he overwhelmingly targets things rather than people and his angry threats are empty).

In contrast, Anakin (who was committed on the dark side and successfully cut himself off from his empathy for many years) was all in on the pursuit of power even when he still had good intentions. Anakin also knew that power was the foundation of the dark side and he and Palpatine would always be at odds, that some day he would overthrow him and take his place. Ben only values power out of fear, and solely primal fear not more abstract, possessive fear like Anakin’s, he wants safety. He doesn’t go to Snoke thinking he’s ever going to take his place or gain his power- he wants Snoke to give him belonging and acceptance. He’s then convinced that the ends justify the means and doing things he knows are wrong and which cause him pain are necessary because his whole life and Snoke’s machinations have set him up to believe that. He is still trying to create safety and doing what he’s convinced must be done and will be done one way or another.

Ben is a beautiful compassionate person and always has been and that is why he’s in such constant, excruciating pain trying to shut himself off from love and vulnerability. He is following Snoke’s demands and trying to kill his past to stop the pain, to kill this vulnerability and need and weakness in himself. Connection was always what he wanted most and he is trying to cut off and cauterise all of the broken, abandoned bonds of love his family has left him with. And even here, he still wants Snoke’s acceptance, Snoke’s validation and esteem. He is still pouring himself out for an other, giving everything to please someone else, the last person left who tells him it’s possible he can achieve value.

He latched on to Rey instantly when he realised they were alike and did everything possible to lift her up and spare her what he went through. He only rejected Han and Rey’s offers to come with them because he thinks their love is conditional and that small, dirty, broken Ben Solo will never be able to meet the conditions. He thinks he is a tool or an obligation to them and it’s easy to understand why he thinks that. Han couldn’t wipe away a lifetime of baggage in a few words. Rey pretends it’s about the cause, she doesn’t tell him she loves him.

He thinks he must ‘become who he was meant to be’ and that his destiny is to become a new Vader. Everyone told him that. Whether with their fear or directly with words. When he finds out the truth about his grandfather, it’s a complete confirmation of what Snoke has told him and how his parents have treated him. Luke deciding he can’t be allowed to live because it’s that inevitable is the nail in the coffin in Ben believing there’s any place for him with his family. There is nowhere for him to exist as himself, he has to be someone else, someone less weak. And in running away from himself, his legacy, and his identity he puts himself under Snoke’s thumb and Snoke can finish inculcating his worldview.

Being able to love is freedom to Ben. He is an immensely loving person who feels like he is not worthy or allowed to love people, that his love has done nothing but make things worse for everyone. The tension and repression of trying not to need or care about people is what makes him so emotionally unstable. Kylo Ren is a mask and a shield and a prison built by Ben’s hurt and anxiety but equally built by Snoke out of his boyhood fancies to control him and shape him into an instrument of pain. Ben could never have conviction in it because it is so alien to his nature. He is so fundamentally unselfish that he never coveted like Anakin eventually did, his love never became possessive or jealous, he never sold his soul for a boon, the only way he could be selfish enough to murder is out of animal fear and pain. Wanting the hurting to stop. Rationalising it post-facto with the philosophy that the ends justify the means.

He pours himself out for Snoke because there is no one else left. All he wants is the safety and acceptance that he has literally never had anywhere. Anakin received unconditional love from his mother, Obi-wan, and Padmé and was warped from giving compassion into selfishness by his fear of loss and need for control. Covetousness became his tragic flaw and thus his fall culminates in trying to kill Padmé rather than lose her. Control became so important that others ceased to matter and love became possession. Anakin (despite also being a victim of manipulation and Jedi hubris) got to make real choices, he had real options, and thus he was a villain with conviction. Ben’s attempts to take control of his life are unfocussed and mostly involve abnegation, he pushes people away instead of trying to clutch them close; his response to loss is to isolate himself not seize power to recover the lost thing by force. Ben never received unconditional love until Han’s sacrifice on the bridge and the experience immediately shatters him from his already tenuous position in the dark. The only thing keeping him from coming home after that is sunk cost and the idea that he can never be forgiven. That it was too late.

He just needed someone to show him it wasn’t.