#at his presence and instruct him to stand apart‚ is deeply affecting. it makes you wonder how Karloff's own self image fared (the script

[laurore-stormwitch]

I honestly live for Genya and Nikolai’s friendship. Second part following from the fight in the war room between Nikolai and his general. Here he and Genya share a drink and some sincere words. (it’s awfully long but i love them)

we will fight for you -AO3 

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He took another long sip of brandy from the glass he was holding. He didn’t remember how many drinks he had. He just wanted it all to fade to nothing, to be able to finally rest. And yet here he was, in front of the fireplace, revisiting everything that happened in the last two days. Somehow, after the disastrous meeting, he got through the rest of the day and the day after that. Zoya made a brief appearance in the war room that morning, swallowing her pride. His heart skipped a couple of beats when she appeared: she made a quick nod of her chin at him avoiding his eyes, playing the part of the respectful general, and stayed in the room for a brief time. It was worse than not seeing her at all. She picked up her files, gave a couple of instructions to Genya and left as swiftly as she came, leaving him with scrambled thoughts for the rest of the day. Tonight, he had dinner in silence with Ehri, barely keeping up the appearance of the lovely soon-to-be-wed couple they were not. Ehri was stubborn, but smart and observant. It took her ten minutes to unravel what she was seeing in front of her.

“Still brooding over the fight with your General, my King?” She asked sweetly, with a pretence of innocence.

“I see words travel fast in the palace.” Was all he said, picking his herring apart. He didn’t feel like eating. He felt Ehri’s eyes studying him. She fell silent for a while, then managed to say something that caught him off guard.

“You should tell her you’re in love with her before it’s too late.”

A small smile curled her lips at his shocked reaction. She was having fun. He stopped picking at his food, looking at her. Frankly, he didn’t have the strength to fight this, or deny it for all that mattered. There was nobody else in the room. He was at a loss of words. He felt the pain of their confrontation coming back in waves. He was deeply ashamed, hurt and lost. Ehri got up from her seat, directed to her chambers. She stopped at his side, casting him a pensive look.

“You don’t know me and I don’t know you. But I do know what it’s like to love someone, and I do remember how it felt when I lost her. I think if you stop putting your energies into denying your feelings, and direct them into finding another solution for this situation, we would all be better off. Don’t let this go so easily. Love is the only thing worth waging a war for.”

Ehri stepped away from him, opening the door. She turned to him one last time before disappearing to her chambers, saying something that ignited a feeble spark of hope in his heart.

“If you want to discuss other plans, I’m up for it. I want my throne back, Your Highness. You need an alliance and the liberty to go after the girl you want. Maybe we can find a way to work together and get our happy endings, after all.”

“Your Highness, may I come in?”

Her words were torturing him. He didn’t reply to her at dinner, letting her leave in silence. And he knew she was just jumping at the tiniest chance to get free from this wedding. But the things she said were stuck like a worm in his brain, which was now working frantically. He didn’t think, until now, that there was another way. But maybe, just maybe…he couldn’t let go of the foolish idea that he wanted someone he loved beside him. As a wife, as a ruler, as a queen. Marrying Ehri was a pragmatic choice, securing the alliance with the Shu. But what if they could work something else out? He could help Ehri get back the throne, get his alliance, and leave his heart free to pursue whoever he truly loved. The idea of having the chance not to lose Zoya was too strong to be ignored.

Someone knocked at the door in that instant, interrupting his train of thoughts. He heard Genya’s voice gently calling him.

He took a long breath in, trying to blink away some of the brandy. He opened the door for her, welcoming her in. “Please Genya, do sit with me for a while.”

He tried a smile in her direction as she walked in the room, gesturing to the empty chair beside the one he sat in. Genya’s visit was a welcome distraction: he’d come to really appreciate her in the times they’ve worked together. She was a good friend, a glowing presence, with her sweet and soothing ways. And beneath her honey demeanour she hid the spine of a fiery warrior, always looking after the people she loved. While she graciously sat down, he pondered why she was here, having a displeasing hunch about it. The suspicion came that this was not going to be an easy conversation. His instincts were only confirmed by her behaviour: she was shifting her gaze uncomfortably from the fire to Nikolai, clearly trying to assess the best way to give voice to her thoughts. He waited without rushing her until she spoke, carefully looking at him.

“Can I talk to you as a friend, Nikolai?” There she goes, he thought, his mood already souring even more if it was possible.

“Not only you can, dear Genya, I ask that you do.” He gestured to go on, encouraging her to speak. She cleared her throat, never leaving his face, a firm look in her amber eye.

"I wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday in the war room." She sighed, taking the glass Nikolai offered her, slowly choosing the next words. Nikolai grew only more worried.

“You can’t look at your General like that, Nikolai.”

The King let out a tired breath. He didn’t need to ask who they were talking about. Even so, it was startled by how direct Genya was being and shook by the seriousness in her gaze. Not that he didn’t think the others suspected something, and if there was someone who could smell romance miles away that was Genya, but still…How did he look at her? Genya didn’t wait for him to reply, catching the question hidden in his eyes.

“You do it every time she enters a room. You look at her like she’s your saviour. Like she’s everything good and right in the world, like you just started breathing again after risking drowning. Like she’s the storm, and the first ray of light after that. I know what that feels, believe me. But still, you can’t look at her in public like that.”

He stayed silent for a bit, turning his gaze away from Genya. Like before, with Ehri, he felt there was no point in denying it. No point in having a discussion, in being bold, arrogant, and flirtatious as ever. He wasn’t even fooling himself; he clearly hadn’t fooled Ehri. He didn’t stand a single chance in fooling Genya. And yet, somehow her honest words comforted him. He let go of every pretence, feeling the weight of the world on his chest becoming slightly lighter. He chuckled, contemplating the irony of the situation, and then let out the first true laugh in what felt like an eternity.

“Am I that obvious?” Genya seemed to relax at his reaction, sliding back on her chair, with a true affection in her look. A little laugh escaped her mouth too. She shook her head.

“To anyone who’s a little observant? Yes. To anyone with a good pair of eyes? Still pretty obvious.”

He laughed again. He really was hopeless.

“I had the suspicion that the two of you were going to be the last ones to realize these feelings.” She scolded him, crossing her arms.

“I’m pretty sure the only feeling Zoya has towards me right now is homicide, Genya.”

Saying her name felt strange on his tongue; the sound of her was still accompanied by a sharp pain. He had some problems acknowledging his own feelings, talking about them felt...weird. It made them real. It forced him to face them. He sensed Genya make a face beside him, with a disbelieving click of her tongue.

“You can’t be that oblivious, Nikolai. I fully expect it from Zoya, as I expect her to get violent with me if I try to talk to her about this, which is the reason why I’m here with you. But you can’t be clueless. You’re usually quite clever.”

He turned to her, looking as if he was just struck by lightning. “Usually”, was all he managed to say. Genya let out another irritated noise, leaning towards him.

“Do you really not feel the way she looks at you? It’s the same you do with her. And you’re both pretty obvious.”

“She hasn’t so much as cast a glare at me in two weeks.” He tried to protest. She snorted.

“Just because she’s trying to be a little more subtle than you. The fact that she does it when you’re not noticing doesn’t mean that other people don’t notice.”

He really wanted to believe her; he felt the hope lying in his heart flicker. Maybe he really wasn’t alone in this. Maybe it made sense to try and find some other way. He had felt it in the Fold, as much as he tried to deny it. She is already a queen, a little voice in his head reminded him.

“Which is why you can’t be like that in public. It’s one thing if the whole palace thinks you’ve taken a mistress. It’s another if we have a full star-crossed lovers situation going on. You don't watch her with lust; you watch her with love. Ehri has enough reasons already to stop this wedding, I’m not sure you want to give her another excuse and risk the alliance.”

Genya’s tone was sweet, tender as the look in her eye. She had a sad smile on her scarred face, and she put a hand on his arm while speaking the words. She knew how hard the reality of the situation was. She knew she had to tell him, and she knew it would hurt him. He understood that she was just trying to protect them, especially Zoya, from being in more pain than they were already.

“And the fight you had didn’t help. She’s hurting, Nikolai, I can see that under her armour. I don’t know what happened between the two of you in the Fold, and I’m not going to ask. But you need to work this out. You can’t go on like that.”

The idea of hurting Zoya sent another wave of shame against him and he had to catch his breath. He knew his reaction was wrong, and that he said the worst words he could have said to her. He knew he had to make this right. And sadly, he also knew Genya was perfectly right, as much as he didn’t care what other people thought of them. Though that may not matter anymore. He took another sip of brandy and waved a hand in front of him in a dismissive way.

“I’m afraid you’re too late with that problem. Ehri already knows. She told me at dinner, and as you predicted she also offered her help in concocting a plan to avoid marrying me and getting her throne back to secure the alliance.”

Genya’s eyes widened in surprise. She crossed her arms again with an amused chuckle.

“I knew she was smart. Well, you and Zoya haven’t been, to be fair. But she still is pretty smart.”

They stayed silent for a while. For the first time in days, Nikolai felt a little better. He didn’t know if it was the brandy or Genya soothing ways but keeping this secret hidden had been tiring. He could share the burden now. Genya turned serious again, a resolute look in her eye.

“If that’s the case, then I’m afraid you have a choice to make, Your Highness.”

“I do?”

She mustered the courage to speak, carefully pondering every word. “I don’t believe Ravka needs a queen that doesn’t love this country, as sweet as Ehri can be. This is a broken place. It needs mending. It needs someone caring, ready to give this wretched place everything to see it flourish. It needs someone strong, ruthless, and brave. Someone who could lead it to be whole again.”

Nikolai looked at her, feeling the pride reverberate through her words. “All my life, all I’ve wanted was to feel protected. To feel safe. Can you imagine what a Grisha ruler can mean for this country? I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, or that it’s the perfect choice. But can you see it? Grisha from everywhere in the world are going to know this is home. We can rebuild the Second Army, unite it with the First. We can bring this divided country together.”

She took a long breath in. “And we both know that for all her pettiness, her rude ways, and icy words, Zoya is already the queen our home needs. She would fend for Ravka until her dying breath.”

He took every word in, waves of feelings towering over him. He thought of the Fold, of the letter he gave Zoya naming her the protector of Ravka. Of the first time he envisioned her as a Queen. As his Queen. He thought of following his heart, of things he usually didn’t let himself linger on: Zoya in his arms, Zoya in his rumpled sheets in the morning, on his lips, his hand in her hair, the smell of wildflowers around them. Zoya holding his hand. Zoya bleeding in the snow, protecting the cubs. Zoya with a silver crown at his side. He felt his heart full of yearning for these visions, full of warmth and desire. He thought of losing her, the pain like a sword through his chest, like a mountain on his shoulders.

“And I want to see her happy, Nikolai. She deserves happiness.” She touched his hand kindly. “You deserve happiness. You deserve someone who loves you as fiercely as she does. She deserves your kindness; you deserve her proud heart. We would want nothing more than to see you build a life together. Build the future together."

He didn’t miss it. He emerged from his thoughts, trying to steady his breathing at the ferocity of the truth that lay behind his friend’s speech. “We?” She curled her lips in a devious smile.

“As I told you, we all expected you two to be the last to acknowledge this. You’re both pretty funny to gossip about. If you can believe it, Tolya was the first to notice. Months ago. I had to explain it to David of course, but the others were all pretty quick to catch up.”

The thought of their friends whispering about them sent affection and amusement through him. He still couldn’t quite believe he managed to surround himself with this little strange family. He smiled back. Genya caught his hand, tightening her grip.

“We will fight for you. If you decide this is the course you want to take, we will fight for the both of you. We will stand at your side, defending Ravka and your right at happiness and peace. Just think about it.”

He nodded, staying silent at the enormity of this revelation, deeply moved by Genya's sincere words. He felt a warmth he didn't remember was possible to feel, the chance of a joy so intense it caught him off guard. It still seemed like a fragile hope; but it was a spark he was going to protect at all cost. His confidence was building up again. A decision: that’s something he was good at. He could already see the roads taking form, he could see where they led, what he would have to do. He could do this. His brain was already working around a plan. He would need to talk to Ehri and see what she had in mind. Maybe they really could save themselves from this. But there was something else he needed to do first, something that’s still scared him a little, and it most certainly was going involve an unpleasant and hard confrontation with a raven haired harpy who was likely to burn him on the spot.

"Why do you think she's so mad at me? Avoiding me and everything? I’m sure you’ve noticed that too."

Genya waved a sarcastic glare in his direction, furrowing her brows at him and lightening the mood a little.

"I'm going to take a wild guess here, but maybe the fact you announced your marriage right after whatever happened between the two of you? Maybe?"

"Very funny." He huffed, throwing his arm in the air. “Nothing happened, by the way. Nothing...explicit.” Unfortunately, he thought grimly, images of Zoya clouding his mind again. He shook them away, trying to regain his focus. "What am I supposed to do?"

"All Saints Nikolai, I didn't think you were such an idiot when it came to relationships. You tend to be so charming."

"Not helping."

She laughed. Saints, she was enjoying this. "Maybe talk to her? That would be a nice first step."

Great, like it's easy. He groaned, pressing his hands on his eyes. Genya was totally right: what was happening to him? He was indeed charming. He was used to charm his way out of every situation. Unfortunately, the one person who always seemed to be immune to his ways was the one he desperately needed forgiveness from. Honesty might have been the only plausible course of action.

“Talk to her about what? My feelings?”

Genya burst out laughing again. His pride hurt a little bit. Maybe Zoya wasn’t easy, but it was not like he was a boy anymore.

“Sure, if you want her to punch you in the face and run away as fast as she can. Do you know Zoya, Nikolai?”

Never mind, I am a fool. His friend was of course right, again. What he thought he would do, show up and ask her to marry him after everything that happened? Run to Zoya and tell her you love her after you insulted her, great way to gain a quick death, Nikolai. He sighed at the redhead in front of him.

“I’m hopeless, fine, would you please help me my dear friend?”

She huffed her hair theatrically. “Ease her in a little bit before the whole feelings talk. Say you're sorry. Show you care. Mend the rift in your relationship, draw her close again. Make her believe that she wasn't wrong in trusting you and open her heart to you. Just a couple of suggestions. Start with this, and see where it goes.”

Okay, he could try this. See where it went from there. He brought up the glass of brandy, looking at the liquid inside. On second thought, he put it on the table again; he needed a clear mind for this. He took a deep breath, feeling some sort of calm wash over him. He was tired. But he felt good, he felt in control again.

The heart is an arrow. It demands aim to lend true.

His heart found its aim. He had lost himself, but he found purpose again. He saw a way, some twisted hard way to give his eager country what it needed and not lose the most important person in his life in the process. He looked at the girl still sitting patiently beside him: he owed her a lot. Hadn’t she come to talk to him, hadn’t she been brave enough to speak these words...he didn’t want to think how much more time it would’ve taken him to see the truth, o how much he could have lost. The gratitude he felt in this instant was immense. He held her hand pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Genya.”

“Thank me by not being an ass anymore, Nikolai." She hadn't lost the light tone, but he could see she was only half-joking. "And come ask me for whatever help you need, all right? It can’t have been easy to keep everything for yourself.”

No, it hadn’t been. Gentle as always, she got up with a fond smile.

“And please let me tailor those dark circles under your eyes. We need you at your best.” She winked at him, moving towards the doorway.

“You are a good friend, you know. Not just to me. To Zoya, also. We’re lucky to have you.”

“I’m also great at concocting plans and I thrive around secrets at court, remember that. I’ll be glad to be of use. With your terrible relationship skills, also.”

“I’m far from terrible, my dear friend. Just a little rusty.”

“Sure, whatever you say. And Nikolai, not that I want to rush you, but don’t lose too much time on your decision. We still need to move quickly."

This time, he was the one shooting a sarcastic glare.

“Like you didn’t know the second you walked through that door what choice I was going to take.”

Another wicked smile flashed through her features.

“You know, I’ll even avoid killing you for all the time I spent on organizing the wedding. Mainly because there’s still time to change the bride and have it anyway.”

He chuckled. “She still has to forgive me, first. Then there’s the matter of talking about feelings. And from that to accepting a proposal...well, I’m afraid we’re a long way from a royal wedding.”

Genya seemed unfazed by all of these trivial matters. She shook her shoulders.

“Never say never. Zoya often has a way of surprising people.” That much is true, he thought.

“Do tell me how it goes. In the meanwhile, goodnight, Your Highness.” Genya nodded in his direction, taking a step out and leaving his chambers.

“Goodnight, Genya.”

He stood up, walking around his room for a while. As exhausted as he was, he was also too lost in thought to actually sleep. He opened the window, resting his elbows on the balcony, leaning towards the dark night sky lit up by stars. It was too late to go to her, and yet she was everything he could think of. The desire burning in him was almost unbearable. He couldn’t stand the thought of her angry at him, alone in her room. Or worse, not alone in her room. He shook his head, inhaling the cold breeze, trying to ignore the useless jealous thought. She really was driving him insane. He needed to think, to set a plan and get things in motion. She could sulk in the idea of killing him for one more night; just another thing he would need to ask forgiveness for. He wouldn’t give up, this time. If he was going to do this, he was going do this right. No matter how hard it was going to be to convince her, or how many times she was going push him away. He wouldn’t give up on her. Let’s see who was more stubborn.

I’m gonna find a way to do this. He gazed at the Little Palace, its roof shining dimly under the moonlight. I promise you I’m gonna find a way. I’m not gonna lose you. I’ll keep fighting for you.

Sleep finally caught up to him after a few hours. That night, like so many others, he dreamed of her. But she wasn’t far and untouchable like in the other dreams. She was next to him. She was brushing her fingers on his cheek, waving a hand through his golden curls, her blue eyes full of light. She was smiling softly, calling his name, holding him close.

In the morning, for the first time, he awoke with the slight and impalpable sense that these dreams may had a chance of coming true.

[kidney9-9]

Underwater Chapter 1 (Kylo x Reader x Poe)

I do not own this gif, credit goes to the creator.

Hi, this is the first chapter of a new series! Also my first time writing for Poe and Kylo, please enjoy. Taglist is open! Asks/Requests are also open. I will be putting warnings on each chapter. 

Full Masterlist  Series Masterlist

Kylo Ren x Reader x Poe Dameron (Fluff/Angst) Warnings: cursing, descriptions of kissing/sexual activities but not in depth, cocky!Poe, and angry!Ren. Word Count: 1.7K  In future chapters I might be adding actual smut, please let me know what you guys think. I love hearing from y’all :)

The Book

Fucking Poe Dameron was the only thing you desired in life at this point. You already had everything you could ask for, expect for the pilot. You’ve met him before, and it only left you wanting and lusting for him. But what caught your eye now was his lips; they were pulled up into a smirk, watching you drift yourself along the room with such elegance.

You were greeting yourself to other elites in the casino. The job was boring and tiresome to you, and he was the only thing here that deemed your curiosity. His eyes were watching you like a hawk, and it pulled you into his presence fast. The gaze shimmered its way down your dress, eyeing you with more lust now. It pulled you from your duties, and just as you arrived at the corner he was leaning against, he looked back to your eyes.

“And why are you here?” You questioned, arms crossing, not in defense but in interest. Poe tilted his head to the side, still looking at your face, before he pushed himself up from the wall and again eyed you down. His gaze was making you feel warmer now, compared to when you were buttering up the disgusting customers. Poe’s smirk never faltered at your arrival, but instead deepened, and you could tell wherever his thoughts were heading, you would shiver at the slightest mention of it.

Poe never answered your question, but his gaze lingered on you for a few seconds longer and an arm of his drifted up along your exposed back. “You look divine.” He spoke up with confidence. His statement wasn’t wrong. Your sparkling black dress fitted perfectly around your body, pronouncing your curves, dropping low to show some cleavage and it pulled around your feet. Your hair was pulled into a delightful and elegant style, presenting you almost as a princess.

Your facial expression feigned boredom, but inside you felt the small building of hotness pull around in your body. Poe’s hand softly shifted random shapes along your backside, slowly drifting lower. “I’m sure you taste divine too.” He whispered, glancing back to your face, as if to see what you were feeling. You shivered at that moment, your eyes dropping suddenly as you breathed out deeply. You didn’t even know you were holding your breathe.

“What do you want?” You asked, closing your eyes softly memorizing his touch. Something wasn’t sitting right at the back of your head. You knew what he was, and who he aligned with, but it wasn’t bothering you for some reason. Maybe it was because he was fucking hot, but you should have known better. Poe Dameron, the best Resistant pilot, shouldn’t be in your family’s casino. The extravagant place was filled to the brim with First Order representatives, informants, and officers; but it looked like none of them noticed him.

Those sick old fucks were wasting their money away at the tables and machines, not even noticing the exchange between you and the pilot. “You know what I want.” Poe finally answered you, voice low and wavering on desire but you could hear the slight authority in it.

You opened your eyes and copied his actions with tilting your head and leaning away from his hand. The loss of his touch barely bothered you at this point, with the building sexual tension between you too. “I don’t know what you want exactly, why don’t you tell me?” You feigned innocence, lips drooping down into a small pout. Poe grunted back at you, irritated at the game you were trying to play.

“Give me information.” Poe whispered, tugging at your shoulders now pulling you closer to him. No fun. You pouted even more, now pushing your hand up to catch his face. He sighed out as you pressed a soft hand up on the side of his face. “You know what I want.” You mimicked, turning his head to the side as you leaned in and kissed into his neck.

The pilot now tensing up at your gesture of affection, now trying to push his arousal for you away. It wasn’t working though, with the feeling of you breathing on his neck and leaving sloppy kisses. You pulled away, face full of your intentions, as you pulled his face closer to yours. He leaned down fully and captured your lips at once, as you sighed out at the feeling. His lips were rough on yours, and he pushed into your mouth with his tongue, and in an instant, he pulled back.

Groaning at the lost of his lips, you opened your eyes again to see he was staring at you intensely. “Give me the information, and I’ll give you what you want.” He demanded, pushing you back harder, making you stumble slightly on your heels.

You rolled your eyes in response to him. That information he wanted was about every single one of your clients. Most of them were in debt with your family, from losing millions of credits by playing the odds here. Your family sometimes forgave their debts, only to get information of the First Order, or anything that is worth knowing. People end up selling out big secrets, just to get their money back, even though it risked their lives against your family and the First Order. But fuck, were you willing to hand it over to Poe. It didn’t even matter to you; you just wanted him so much. But even then, you really liked playing games and if Poe was so desperate for the information, he should be willing to play.

You walked away slowly, pulling Poe’s arm along with you, as you smirked to the customers who now looked your way. Poe yanked his arm back, but followed right behind you, hiding his face behind the jacket he brought along. If Poe was caught here, there would be no way out of this mess. Taking this mission was a big risk for Poe, but if it meant a win for the Resistance, he would do it.

You walked through a few hallways, as Poe struggled to hide his face away from the drifting eyes in the casino. You led him into your office and watched as he took a seat on the couch, as you closed the door. You hummed out as you sat next to him, glancing as he sighed out loudly.

“Who goes first?” Poe questioned, gazing back to you. The way you kissed his neck flashed back in his mind, as you leaned forward and lightly touched his shoulder again. Your hand crept forward onto his chest, as you spoke out, “I do.”, and the moment you answered, Poe leaned towards you.

He aimed to kiss your lips as your hands drifted lower. When his lips met yours, he breathed out deeply, tugging on your dress to pull you closer to him. You resisted his actions as you placed a hand on his thigh, slowly travelling upwards to his belt.

“Poe,” you sighed out softly, bringing his attention to hear you speak. “If you want information, you’re going to have to earn it.” You said, now grasping his belt and unclipping it roughly. Poe blinked back at you, now understanding your words with a small “Oh.”

Poe Dameron was a player, but you were the fucking creator of this game. You knew exactly how to get what you wanted, or rather needed now, and you were going to enjoy it. Pulling the belt apart, you stand back on your legs and walk to your desk, while Poe sat breathless watching you.

“I didn’t realize sex was all it took to take down the First Order.” Poe replied, now grinning at you as you pulled out a book. You rolled your eyes back to him, it seemed like he was being a little cocky now and sure you liked it but at the same time, you wanted to remind him you were in control.

“Sex, Poe? This isn’t sex.” You spoke out, not looking at him but instead just looking through the small book in your hands. It contained some information of the officers of the First Order, but it was completely useless information. You had many more booklets of this containing actual useful evidence, but you weren’t ready to give it up.

The pilot felt confused at your words, now unsure what to do. He stayed seated on the couch, eyeing the book in your hand as you sat yourself on your knees in front of him. You handed him the book with instructions, “Read aloud, and don’t stop till I’m done.” You placed your hands back onto his thighs, now griping at his pants and tugging.

His breath stalled as you pulled his pants down to his feet, now leaving only his boxers to cover his lower body. You grinned at the nervous expression on his face, now laughing as he started to read. The words were very boring to hear, but his sighs and the way his voice trembled pleased you. Poe felt himself shift around in the seat as you ran a finger under his belly button, underneath his shirt. With one gentle hand, you began to pull at his boxers, slowly teasing him.

And then you heard the gunshots. Immediately, Dameron pulled himself up, trembling as he buckled up his pants again and staring at you. “Next time?” He questioned, now pushing the book into a pocket inside his jacket as you stood up to go view the monitors that observed the casino.

You didn’t bother to answer him, just continued to look at your screens in shock. It was the First Order attacking, and you had a very good reason to suspect why. Groaning out in annoyance, you pointed to your door and Poe gave you a final smirk before running off. It seemed that he escaped already, when you started to leave your office.

The floor was starting to shake now too, as you walked calmly through the halls watching as your employees buzzed about, searching for the exits. Stormtroopers lined the halls, blasters ready in their arms as you walked into the main part of the casino. A tall figure walked into the casino, dressed in all black, and stopped once he saw you.

Igniting his lightsaber, Kylo Ren held it up pointed to you, as you slowly raised your hands in surrender. “Traitor.” He spat out, and even though he was covered by a mask, you knew his face held a certain mixture of venom and disgust.

[fragmentedshards]

The Final Curtain, Chapter Eight

The New Case

-

The next morning began - as, presumably, all mornings would now begin - with Matilda's singing voice echoing through the whole of the servants' quarters. It seemed the new maid was an earlier riser than the rest.

Her singing voice was unremarkable but by no means unpleasant, and she seemed to have a full repertoire of lyrics at her disposal to accompany her morning activities. Matilda had risen early, washed, dressed, and begun her chores while the rest of the Phantomhive staff was still shaking cobwebs from their brains. When Sebastian - who, as per the usual, had not slept that night - entered the kitchen to begin preparing breakfast for the earl, he found Matilda adding the finishing touches to the young master's meal, and that she had taken the liberty of making a plain but substantial breakfast for all of the servants.

"Good morning, Mr. Sebastian," she piped cheerily as the astonished butler entered the kitchen. "Help yourself to breakfast." she gestured at the corner of the table, where Sebastian found nine plates of crispy bacon, fried eggs, and a slice of toast each, as well as a large teapot and nine steaming cups of tea. His jaw dropped momentarily in his surprise.

"We all need our strength to serve the young master as best we can, yes?" she asked the butler, seeming to read his surprise as insulting. "It's hard work, keeping up an estate like this.

Don't worry though, I didn't lose any time over making us breakfast. I grew up on a farm, remember? I can do this in no time, even in my sleep. Oh, and I brought my own teapot and cups when I came here; I didn't use the master's set."

The rest of the servants, including Paula and Agni, began walking through the door to the kitchens, their eyes lighting up at the sight of the meal prepared for them. They ate hungrily from their respective plates, thanking Matilda for preparing the food, Tanaka even embracing his granddaughter as he complimented her skill. Sebastian recovered from his initial shock, taking several bites from his plate for the sake of manners and taste, then inquired, "I see there are two untouched plates of food. One is obviously yours; for whom is the other?"

"The Phantomhive footman, of course," Matilda replied, garnishing the breakfast trays she was preparing for the earl and his guests with a different flower for each person. "I met him this morning in the greenhouse; I daresay he's a new addition?" she picked up a tray with a white rose; apparently, the young master's breakfast tray. "Should I take this to the earl myself, or is that your job?" she asked Sebastian.

The butler came unacceptably close to stuttering before answering that he would take it up to the earl, Agni would take Prince Soma's tray, Paula would take Lady Elizabeth's tray, and Matilda could take the two trays to Lau and Ran Mao. Footman?, he thought to himself, his mind racing momentarily until he remembered Snake. The young master rarely made use of his

footman, having only taken him on in the first place out of a fiercely-denied sense of guilt. The entire Phantonhive household had all but forgotten about Snake.

Sebastian quickly recovered and looked at the different flowers on each tray. "A white rose for the master, a pink peony for Lady Elizabeth, a marigold for Prince Soma, an orchid for Lau, and a camellia for Ran Mao. How very clever of you, Matilda. I must compliment you on your creativity."

Matilda beamed at him as she hurriedly consumed half of her breakfast and picked up Lau and Ran Mao's breakfast trays, and all but skipped out of the kitchens. Sebastian watched her and listened absently to the other servants babbling about how fortunate they were to have Matilda working alongside them. He himself was not quite convinced. There was something off about the new maid; he could smell it in her blood. The butler took a deep breath and made his way to the earl's bedroom. He could further investigate the Matilda situation later, but right now he had to remind the young master about Snake.

~

When Sebastian entered the earl's bedroom, the earl himself was already awake and pacing back and forth in his nightclothes. This was unusual for the boy earl, who ordinarily slept as late as he could before Sebastian would wake him and remind him of the day's responsibilities. Ciel hardly regarded the butler as he entered, placed the breakfast tray on the nightstand, and began making the bed while explaining the food on the tray, as per his usual behavior. The boy was too preoccupied with last night's letter from the Queen. He read it and reread it, searching for some type of hidden message or clue that would bring more understanding to the matter, but had found nothing when Sebastian finally caught his attention.

"I beg your pardon, Young Master," the butler spoke with a slightly irregular tone. "But I am afraid we have forgotten about Snake."

"What, the footman from the circus?" Ciel asked, though he knew the answer perfectly well. He furrowed his brows in a momentary grimace. "I haven't forgotten about him, I simply have no practical use for him. At least not while he is always covered in snakes. Why are you telling me this?"

"It seems Matilda met him this morning," Sebastian explained. "I thought it best to remind you of the young man's presence here at the estate."

"Yes, well," the earl brushed off his butler's words. "That is irrelevant. I have too much to think about regarding this letter from the Queen to bother with a circus freak."

Sebastian took a few steps closer to Ciel. "If I may," he began. "What about this letter is so puzzling?"

"Everything," Ciel answered. "She gives me very explicit instructions, but they are simultaneously vague. She warns of threats she cannot describe." he shook his head and placed the letter on the bed. "Dress me, Sebastian. It is time I address my guests again."

~

Lau, Ran Mao, Prince Soma, and Lady Elizabeth conversed in low voices in the drawing room, awaiting Ciel's arrival. When the door opened and the young earl entered, everyone fell silent and merely stared at him. He glowered back at them.

"Stop that. You look like you are gawking at a menagerie attraction." he barked at them. Inhaling deeply and standing so that everyone could view him easily, Ciel began to elucidate the

Queen's letter to the best of his ability.

"Last night you witnessed me receive this letter from our queen," he began. "I confess I am somewhat vexed by it, given its paradoxical nature. Queen Victoria first tells me that I must continue to house all of you here. According to her, there has been an attack on the Midford estate-" he paused as Elizabeth gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth, "As well as what she calls racially-motivated crimes throughout London. Apparently this is primarily affecting people such as Lau and Soma, so it appears I continue to suffer you lot to stay here."

Ciel paused again and glanced around the room. Apart from Elizabeth's surprise, there was no visible reaction from the rest of the guests, so the earl continued as Sebastian and Matilda entered with a tea tray. "She further expresses her concern regarding a certain ballet troupe in London, and its connection to a rival toy company. She does not elaborate on the nature of this concern at all, merely entreating us to attend the ballet and keep our eyes peeled for unusual activity." He held up a handful of tickets. "As such, it appears we will be attending a ballet tonight. Prepare accordingly; we will make the journey into London as soon as possible so we may investigate before the show as well."

Matilda gave Lady Elizabeth a cup of tea and gently patted her shoulder, a gesture for which the fourteen-year-old girl was visibly grateful. "Are the Queen's concerns potentially related to the attack on my home?" she asked worriedly.

"It is unclear from the letter, although she does mention in the postscript that the attack was unsuccessful and your family remains safe," Ciel answered his cousin. "I expect I ought to have mentioned that before. Are there any more questions?"

Instantly there was a clamor of voices from each of the guests, and Ciel did his best to decipher the separate questions. At last he held his hand up, an action the guests correctly assumed to mean silence, and took a teacup from Sebastian.

"The prima ballerina with this troupe is a woman named Bryony Redruth," Ciel informed them, taking a sip of his tea with a scowl on his face. He furrowed his eyebrows once more. "A common, disgustingly rural name, if you ask me. She is most likely the suspect in this case, though of course we have no way of knowing. It may be best for some of us to watch her closely during the ballet, while the others observe other possible suspects." he took another sip of his tea. "As for my supposed rival toy company, my guess is that the Queen is referring to Kurios Toy Emporium. I have actually been meaning to meet with the two sisters who run the company to see how they would feel about collaborating on a new product. They create miniature steam- powered mechanical toys - they branded them curios - made so that children can take them apart and rebuild them in different ways. Frankly, I think their ideas are ingenious. I cannot understand why the Queen has involved them in this case, but I expect we shall find that out soon enough. Now then, it is time we finished our preparations and departed." He added under his breath; “I hope this isn’t like that stupid circus.”

With that, the earl set his teacup down on the nearest table and left the room. His guests, after several bewildered glances at each other, followed suit, leaving only Sebastian and Matilda in the drawing room collecting cups. Noticing the odd look on the maid's face, the demon butler inquired as to what was wrong.

"Bryony Redruth," Matilda repeated the name. "I may be mistaken, but I think I know this girl."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at the maid, but said nothing more.

[dfroza]

Today’s reading from the ancient book of Proverbs and book of Psalms

for September 15 of 2021 with Proverbs 15 and Psalm 15, accompanied by Psalm 88 for the 88th day of Astronomical Summer and Psalm 108 for day 258 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 15]

[Wisdom Far Better than Wickedness]

Respond gently when you are confronted

and you’ll defuse the rage of another.

Responding with sharp, cutting words will only make it worse.

Don’t you know that being angry

can ruin the testimony of even the wisest of men?

When wisdom speaks, understanding becomes attractive.

But the words of the fool make their ignorance look laughable.

The eyes of the Lord are everywhere

and he takes note of everything that happens.

He watches over his lovers,

and he also sees the wickedness of the wicked.

When you speak healing words,

you offer others fruit from the tree of life.

But unhealthy, negative words do nothing but crush their hopes.

You’re stupid to mock the instruction of a father,

but welcoming correction will make you brilliant.

There is prosperity in the house of the righteous,

but the house of the wicked is filled with trouble,

no matter how much money they have.

When wisdom speaks, revelation-knowledge is released,

but finding true wisdom in the word of a fool is futile.

It is despicable to the Lord

when people use the worship of the Almighty

as a cloak for their sin,

but every prayer of the righteous is pleasing to his heart.

The Lord detests the lifestyle of the wicked,

but he loves those who pursue purity.

Severe punishment awaits the one

who turns away from the truth,

and those who rebel against correction will die.

Even hell itself holds no secrets from the Lord God,

for before his eyes, all is exposed—

and so much more the heart of every human being.

The know-it-all never esteems the one who tries to correct him.

He refuses to seek good advice from the wise.

[Living an Ascended Life]

A cheerful heart puts a smile on your face,

but a broken heart leads to depression.

Lovers of God hunger after truth,

but those without understanding

feast on foolishness and don’t even realize it.

Everything seems to go wrong

when you feel weak and depressed.

But when you choose to be cheerful,

every day will bring you more and more joy and fullness.

It’s much better to live simply,

surrounded in holy awe and worship of God,

than to have great wealth with a home full of trouble.

It’s much better to have a meal of vegetables surrounded with love and grace

than a steak where there is hate.

A touchy, hot-tempered man picks a fight,

but the calm, patient man knows how to silence strife.

Nothing seems to work right for the lazy man,

but life seems smooth and easy when your heart is virtuous.

When a son learns wisdom,

a father’s heart is glad.

But the man who shames his mother is a foolish son.

The senseless fool treats life like a joke,

but the one with living-understanding makes good choices.

Your plans will fall apart right in front of you

if you fail to get good advice.

But if you first seek out multiple counselors,

you’ll watch your plans succeed.

Everyone enjoys giving great advice.

But how delightful it is to say the right thing at the right time!

The life-paths of the prudent lift them progressively heavenward,

delivering them from the death spirals

that keep tugging them downward.

The Lord champions the widow’s cause,

but watch him as he smashes down the houses of the haughty!

The Lord detests wicked ways of thinking,

but he enjoys lovely and delightful words.

The one who puts earning money above his family

will have trouble at home,

but those who refuse to exploit others

will live in peace.

Lovers of God think before they speak,

but the careless blurt out wicked words meant to cause harm.

The Lord doesn’t respond to the wicked,

but he’s moved to answer the prayers of the righteous.

Eyes that focus on what is beautiful bring joy to the heart,

and hearing a good report

refreshes and strengthens the inner being.

Accepting constructive criticism

opens your heart to the path of life,

making you right at home among the wise.

Refusing constructive criticism shows

you have no interest in improving your life,

for revelation-insight only comes as you accept correction

and the wisdom that it brings.

The source of revelation-knowledge is found

as you fall down in surrender before the Lord.

Don’t expect to see Shekinah glory

until the Lord sees your sincere humility.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 15

[Psalm 15]

A song of David.

Eternal One, who is invited to stay in Your dwelling?

Who is granted passage to Your holy mountain?

Here is the answer: The one who lives with integrity, does what is right,

and speaks honestly with truth from the heart.

The one who doesn’t speak evil against others

or wrong his neighbor,

or slander his friends.

The one who loathes the loathsome,

honors those who fear the Eternal,

And keeps all promises no matter the cost.

The one who does not lend money with gain in mind

and cannot be bought to harm an innocent name.

If you live this way, you will not be shaken and will live together with the Lord.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 15 (The Voice)

[Psalm 88]

For the worship leader. A song of the sons of Korah accompanied by dance. A contemplative song of Heman the Ezrahite.

O Eternal One! O True God my Savior!

I cry out to You all the time, under the sun and the moon.

Let my voice reach You!

Please listen to my prayers!

My soul is deeply troubled,

and my heart can’t bear the weight of this sorrow. I feel so close to death.

I’m like the poor and helpless who die alone,

left for dead, as good as the unknowable sea of souls lying under our feet,

Forsaken by Him and cut off from His hand,

abandoned among the dead who rest in their graves.

And You have sent me to be forgotten with them,

in the lowest pits of the earth,

in the darkest canyons of the ocean.

You crush me with Your anger.

You crash against me like the relentless, angry sea.

[pause]

Those whom I have known, who have been with me,

You have gathered like sheaves and cast to the four winds.

They can’t bear to look me in the eye, and they are horrified when they think of me.

I am in a trap and cannot be free.

My eyes grow dim, weakened by this sickness;

it is taking my strength from me.

Like a worn cloth, my hands are unfolded before You daily, O Eternal One.

Are You the miracle-worker for the dead?

Will they rise from the dark shadows to worship You again?

[pause]

Will Your great love be proclaimed in the grave

or Your faithfulness be remembered in whispers like mists throughout the place of ruin?

Are Your wonders known in the dominion of darkness,

or is Your righteousness recognized in a land where all is forgotten?

But I am calling out to You, Eternal One.

My prayers rise before You with every new sun!

Why do You turn Your head

and brush me aside, O Eternal One?

Why are You avoiding me?

Since the days of my youth, I have been sick and close to death.

My helpless soul has suffered Your silent horrors;

now I am desperate.

Your rage spills over me like rivers of fire;

Your assaults have all but destroyed me.

They surround me like a flood, rising throughout the day,

closing in from every direction.

You have taken from me the one I love and my friend;

even the light of my acquaintances are darkness.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 88

[Psalm 108]

A song of David.

My heart is committed, O God:

I will sing;

I will sing praises with great affection

and pledge my whole soul to the singing.

Wake up the harp and lyre, and strum the strings;

I will stir the sleepy dawn from slumber!

I will stand and offer You my thanks, Eternal One, in the presence of others;

I will sing of Your greatness among the nations no matter where I am.

For Your amazing love soars overhead far into the heavens;

Your truth rises up to the clouds

where passing light bends.

O God, that You would be lifted up above the heavens in the hearts of Your people

until the whole earth knows Your glory.

Reach down and rescue those whom You love;

pull us to safety by Your mighty right hand, and answer me.

God’s voice has been heard in His holy sanctuary:

“I will celebrate.

I will allocate Shechem and the Succoth Valley to My people.

Gilead belongs to Me, and so does Manasseh;

Ephraim is the helmet that protects My head;

Judah is the scepter through which I rule;

Moab is the washpot in which I clean Myself;

I will throw My shoe over Edom in conquest;

Philistia will soon hear My victory shout.”

But who will take me into the fortified city?

Who will lead me into Edom?

Have You not turned Your back on us, O God?

Will You stay away and not accompany our armies, O God?

Help us against our enemy; we need Your help!

It’s useless to trust in the hand of man for liberation.

Only through God can we be successful.

It is God alone who will defeat our enemies and bring us victory!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 108 (The Voice)

[heyymonkey2]

First Night Back in Fuuga Chapter 18: Comfort in His Arms

AO3 Link to Chapter 18

Summary: Yona is at the center of a bittersweet bromance

Warning: Mature content

“And take this,” Jae-Ha hands Hak a small canteen, “...to ease her pain.”

“I’m not gonna encourage the princess to drink when she’s upset.”

“It’s not for that, Little Brother,” Jae-Ha lifts his brows into a telling expression that Hak immediately understands.

Swiping the object from his friend’s hand, “Right. Thanks.”

Jae-Ha watches Hak walk to her tent in the woods, open the cloth door, spilling light into the night, then disappear inside.

To Yun and the dragons close by, “You guys should move your tent a ways over. Give them some privacy. I’ll keep watch that no one’s coming.”

As they all go, Yun eyes Jae-Ha, “Pervert.”

Jae-Ha sighs. It was easier to simply be a pervert before I knew I really loved her.

Hak climbs down next to where Yona sits and pulls her against his broad chest. Yona’s eyes are wide, wet orbs. She closes them in relief. He’s here. She wraps her arms around him. Her man. Don’t go.

They hold and hold, pressed tightly against one another, the smell of the day on them both -- the floral scent of Saika’s garden, the masculine radiance of Jae-Ha’s jacket still on her shoulders, and the fresh presence of Yona’s tears. Hak buries his face into her hair and she lets him. He feels one of her hands creep up to his necklaces, as to verify they’re both still there. He moves a hand over hers and gives it a squeeze. Of course they’re still there.

He pulls back and brushes her crimson locks behind her ears so he can look at her, “Want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head, “Not yet... I miss you.”

He smiles encouragingly, “I’m right here.”

“I know…” that’s not it.

He knows what she means. This sucks. They’re together but apart. All the time. That little distance between them feels like miles.

“Stay?”

He’s not sure how long is ok, given their proximity to so many prying eyes. People who’d take any excuse to kill him or even them both. But in his heart... there’s nowhere he’d rather be. He’s waited to be able to be this close to her at a time like this for over half his life.

“For just a little bit longer?” she pleads, separation anxiety rising, “I need you,” both hands cling onto his robe, desperate not to let him go.

I need you. He plays her words over and over in his head as pulls her into his arms, “Are you kidding, Princess? I’m not leaving until you send me away.”

She nuzzles her face against his perfectly-muscled pecks, then lifts her face up and kisses his neck, “How could I ever do that?”

He runs his hands through her hair, his eyes heavy with affection, “After seeing another man down on his knees for you today, I do like reassurance.”

“Oh, Hak,” she runs a hand up to his cheek and pulls his face down to hers, grabbing his lips in a sweet kiss, offering herself to him -- he surprises her with the immediate strength of his return, taking her mouth with a possessiveness that weakens her under him as it kindles an incredible fire in her core. He’s never kissed her quite like this before. Not needy -- telling. His arms wrap around her gently but firm, muscles flexed, she cocooned in his intoxicating jealousy.

She moans and realizes she’s losing herself already -- she pulls away to catch her breath, and make clear, before the topic is completely lost in the night, “You have nothing to worry about.”

Oh but the way he looks at her, “I worry every day,” not taking his eyes off her, he lifts the canteen he brought and slips it into her hands, “Every day since I met you… how troublesome.”

As she looks down at the canteen and tries to calm the heat rising in her cheeks, “I heard. I threw off that nap schedule of yours.”

“Completely ruined it,” he loosens the cap on the canteen for her and nudges her hands to bring it to her lips, “Drink. It’ll soothe some of the pain.”

They’re both practically panting for one another now, but they’re trying to communicate before giving in to their wants.

Pain. Yona eyes where now she's allowed to because she’s his wife -- that incredible place between his legs. Her mouth opens ever so slightly as she begins to think about this powerful, headstrong man helplessly aroused for her...

Hak tries to slow what’s becoming inevitable, encourages her to drink more, distracts, “What happened tonight? ...I’m your husband now, I need to know.”

Ooo that possessiveness again. Yona breathes deeply to steady. That’s right, no longer just her bodyguard and friend. Though he would’ve wanted to know back then, too. But now… all the more, everything that happens to her happens to him, as well. They are entwined. Yona tips back more of the strong liquid, her attitude tonight completely reactionless to the burn on her throat. She’ll take it. There are things that hurt far worse right now.

“We encountered a lost family from Kai, fleeing the war.”

Hak immediately knows what that would have meant to her. He’s a former war general, after all -- a master of the chessboard of Kouka. And, to the same level of skill, the princess’ heart for her people.

“Are they OK?”

She drinks again, “Zeno took them to Tae-Jun.”

Hak pushes air out of his nostrils as he looks to the side in an “of course” sorta way. Yona squeezes his hand, changing the subject, “You didn’t sleep well last night?”

He doesn’t want to get into that, “Did you?”

She shakes her head, “Even if I try not to think about it… every second I’m anxious about this war.”

He puts a hand on the canteen to stop her, “That’s enough,” he sets it to the side, “I know you. You’re going, no matter what anyone says. But whatever happens there, it is not your fault.”

Her face creases in self-anger at her inability to believe that.

He sighs and pulls her fully onto his lap, “What can I do--” he traces fingers over the creases on her forehead, “--to keep my wife from getting more wrinkles?”

Yona, totally surprised and semi-offended, breaks into a laugh while smacking his arm, “You always--!”

“I’ve gotta take care of you! I’ve swore to too many times at this point,” he smiles down at her, she beaming love back up at him, “Imagine how much trouble I’d be in if anything happened to you?” he starts counting the liabilities, “The old man would kill me, King Il would meet me with an axe in the afterlife and he doesn’t even touch weapons, the gods would--”

She grabs the collar of his robe and pulls his mouth down onto hers, Jae-Ha’s liquid taking full effect in easing her body… and chasing away every last inhibition. She’s going to have this man -- now.

Jae-Ha stands against a tree in the moonlight, a good distance from Yona’s tent, but not far enough away to miss the sound of her laughter emanating from within it.

How does he do it? Jae-Ha is amazed. She was in such a state just minutes before. He had tried to cheer her up himself, but every attempt returned only silence. She wasn’t trying to be mean, he was sure, she simply was in a stupor. Hak, somehow, can pull her out of those every time.

Then he starts to hear her moaning. Oh. Well, that makes sense. After he’s cheered her up... and I gave them that alcohol for a reason. More moaning. Jae-Ha sighs and looks up at the moon, suddenly trying to distract himself with memories of his own previous escapades. If he can just think about some other woman…

He smiles sadly. This isn't working.

“Princess!” Hak is both thrilled and worried by her intensity. She has him completely disrobed on top and is working her hands to free the rest of him. He’s helping her, but barely keeping up.

“Yona…” she instructs as she licks his abs.

What the hell did Jae-Ha have in that thing? Hak isn’t exactly complaining as he wonders and watches in awe. Yona is now masterfully removing her own clothing. Hak was going to mention that she didn’t need to do this for him, but he picked up along the way here that this clearly was not just for him. And as far as he’s concerned, if she needs something from him… this sort of something… it’s hers.

Her breasts now exposed, he instinctively reaches a hand forward to cup one. She looks down at his erection like a cup of water after a marathon through the desert. Seriously, Jae-Ha, what the hell was that?! Her mouth is on it and she’s sucking. He gasps and starts focusing on breathing, trying not to come quickly. This is amazing. For all the years he’s wanted to make love to her, he never once guessed she’d be this eager about sex.

Yona moans with him in her mouth. She’s quickly fallen in love with this part of him. Not only that it visually fascinates and draws her in, or that it fits inside her so perfectly and hits such elusive places, but most of all because of what it does to him. She can feel him feeling from there. And there are so many times she’s wanted to comfort Hak.

She licks all the way from the base to the tip and takes it from the head into of her mouth once more.

Hak has his hands on her shoulders now, “Wow-whoa... slow down.”

She looks up at him in question with innocent eyes, her mouth glistening wet and his cock gripped in her hands.

“It’s too good... I’ll come,” he’s trying to slow his heart, but her beauty and curiosity aren’t helping.

She smiles mischievously, “What is it you were saying earlier?”

Uh oh. He watches her climb onto him with a naughty little fire in her eyes. She places her hands on his great shoulders, looks down as though assessing a challenge, then slowly lowers herself onto him, letting out a little cry as his cock penetrates her.

Inch by inch she slowly slides down, filling herself with him. He holds his hands on her hips and momentarily loses his mind into his own pleasure. She leans against his hard chest, gasping.

“If it hurts…”

She smiles against him, “You’re so predictable, Hak.”

He twitches inside of her and she moans. He praises into her ear, “All the unpredictability was taken by someone else… Yona.”

With a deep blush, she wraps her arms around his neck further and uses her knees to life her vagina off of him a ways and then to fall back down, pushing him in deeper yet. They both gasp amazement. She giggles despite the pain. Fucking with Hak while fucking trumps everything else.

She begins bouncing more and more on him and he helps with his strong hands on her hips. She watches his arm and ab muscles flex and is wildly turned on. Her moaning is loud and passionate. Hak can’t even keep his own audible pleasure in check. Incredible.

Then their eyes meet and suddenly all the playfulness melts into something more. He grabs her mouth in a wordless I love you, then looks into her eyes again, expressing the deepest I’m yours she’s ever seen, felt, or heard.

Jae-Ha hears their climax, both of them, loud and clear. Newlyweds, he sighs. Hearing them almost makes him want to get married. He’s had his share of great sex. But to anyone who could have beheld the succession of events tonight would know, what just happened between those two was something far more. Soul-moving?

Yona climbs off Hak, a portion of his semen slipping out from inside her and traveling down her thighs. He sees that and thinks about that pregnancy talk again… but tonight is not the night.

He grabs one more kiss from her lips before starting to put his clothes back on. She watches bittersweetly, “You have to go, right?”

As he pulls his pants up, “I promised not until you send me away. But… I’m asking you to.”

She pouts, knowing it’s the right thing, “Jae-Ha keeps telling me it’s only for a little while. Things being like this.”

Hak finishes pulling his outer robe on, “I won’t let this go on much longer.”

“Just touching you… it calms me so much. Just being near… you’ve always kept my nightmares away.”

“I’m never far. And I know that’s not good enough. As your husband, that’s really not good enough.”

She hands him Jae-Ha’s overcoat, “I’m sure he’s cold out there.”

Hak remembers.. Jae-Ha… probably standing right out there.

Yona leans forward and pecks Hak on the lips, “I’m sending you away. Go warm up my Jae-Ha and send him back to me. I’ll be dressed in just a moment.”

“I need to talk with him about something, so I’ll leave Kija outside for a short while. Jae-Ha will be at your side before you know it,” he looks bittersweetly back at her, “You know, he can keep nightmares away, too. If you let him.”

When Hak arrives at Jae-Ha and hands him his overcoat, the green dragon has an impressed smile on his face and is nearly at a loss for words, “...well done.”

“Pervert,” Hak sighs, then, “Come with me.”

Jae-Ha has no idea what’s going on but follows. They swing by the Bunch and send Kija to watch over Yona’s tent. Then Hak walks and walks, leading Jae-Ha much further away from their camp then he would have thought necessary.

“You’re starting to worry me…”

“You can stop worrying. I’m not leading you out into the middle of nowhere to kill you.”

“But the thought crossed your mind, right?”

Hak smiles thoughtfully, sadly, “Kind of the opposite.”

Now Jae-Ha’s really fascinated. Hak stops at a promontory over a lake reflecting the moon and takes a seat on the end. Jae-Ha sits next to him. It’s silent, beautiful.

“Wow, finding a place like this in the middle of the night… is there anywhere you haven’t been, Hak?”

“I’m well-studied more than well-traveled. Remember, I’ve had a impossible princess to look after for a long, long time.”

“I’m guessing she’s why you brought me all the way out here?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Always.”

Hak is silent for a while, unsure how to start. Then finally, without looking at Jae-Ha, “This is gonna sound strange at first, but I’m serious.”

Somehow, Jae-Ha doesn’t need Hak to say another word. A foreboding feeling is creeping.

“I have a favor to ask. You can consider it the most important thing I’ll ever ask of you.”

Why are tears already in my eyes? Jae-Ha wants Hak to stop.

Hak looks down over the lake, then up at the moon. Finally he turns his face, looking Jae-Ha directly in the eyes, “If something happens to me… no, think of it as… if one day the princess cannot stand, please... let her to fall on you.”

“What…” Jae-Ha’s breathing is labored, “...kind of metaphor is that?”

Hak remains serious, “It has to be you.”

Jae-Ha looks around in frustration, then stands. Hak rises, watching him.

“What the hell, Hak. What the HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!!?”

Hak doesn’t respond, waits for him to calm down.

“What are you planning?! This is insane… completely insane!”

“There’s something I need to take care of.”

“Oh, don’t talk to me like I don’t know what THAT is!”

“You only know a portion of how deep this goes. It has to end now.”

The way Hak finished that sentence silences Jae-Ha for a moment. The depth of pain and hatred there… but--

“Do you love her at all?”

“How can you ask me that?!” now Hak is incredulous.

“You are talking about going off and dying!”

“FOR HER!”

“That’s not what she wants!”

“It's to get her what she needs!”

“Is this the kind of man you are?! You marry a girl, have her fall madly in love with you, then disappear -- but only after making arrangements to pass her to a friend?!”

Hak’s eyes flash but there’s a sadness there so strong that any anger dies on the spot.

Jae-Ha lunges and punches -- smashing Hak across the face, knocking him to the ground. He looks down at his dear friend as he shakes his hand in pain. The sight of him taking the hit like he deserved it… that troubles Jae-Ha very deeply. He extends a hand down to Hak, who takes it. Once up, Jae-Ha pulls him into a hug, embracing him tightly, desperately as if to stop him.

“Don’t you know how much she needs you?”

Hak is almost in tears himself, “She thinks she'll die without me.”

Jae-Ha trembles as he realizes that may be true.

“That’s why I’m asking you… if worst comes to worst, save her.”

Jae-Ha steps back, looking his friend in the eyes seriously, “It’s not up to me, Hak.”

“I know her better than anyone. It has to be you.”

“There are other men who could step in and provide for her far better. Tae-Jun--”

“She doesn’t love him. She cares for him, she does not love him.”

Hak and Jae-Ha hold eyes, the magnitude of that sentence transferring between them. Then Hak finishes it, “Only someone she loves could possibly save her spirit.”

Jae-Ha’s eyes are wide, he’s so mixed up, but all he can manage is what his heart is screaming, “...don’t do it, Hak.”

Hak only looks sad. Regretful. Resolved. Jae-Ha watches him walk away. His dear friend. Little brother. The conversation has ended. He closes his eyes to think. But he can't. There's only pain. Doesn’t that beast know how much he loves him, too?

[hrk4]

The year that was...

Dear Friends:

Season’s Greetings!

Standing between the two armies eager for battle, Krishna’s exhortation to his friend in dismay was, in essence, this: Why do you hesitate to do what is most natural to you? Why are you so afraid to be yourself? Why are you combating your own temperament, making a mockery of your hard-earned proficiency, and behaving in a manner singularly ill-suited to what you hold dear? Arjuna’s despondency was a consequence of his own sentimentality and hence Krishna inspires him to return to himself, reminding him constantly of his true nature as a warrior. A twenty-first century Krishna would have most certainly appended a proviso to his famous utterance – “Try to excel in the work and path aligned to your nature, even if it is flawed or less glamorous. It is better than following the way of others. You will never feel guilty if you follow your inherent nature.” In that rider, he might well have illustrated the various machinations of society that detracts from the individual the opportunity to stay true to the Self. At every turn in the road of life, people—even with the noblest of intentions—await the slightest of chances to misguide the traveller, gently nudging him away from the inner path. He is expected to tread the beaten track; he is directed to follow the well-known route.

For someone who has relentlessly strayed from the banal passageways leading to predictable endpoints, I faced a profusion of advice and admonition this year from family and friends, badgering me to recognize, nay embrace, the multi-hued, dazzling avenues that would lead me to some goal or achievement or outcome of their choice, which in turn would be hailed by the people of the world as something that perhaps justifies my existence. I’m glad to place on record that all such attempts have failed miserably and I continue to be myself, treading the inward path wholly aligned to my nature. What is particularly memorable is that I did not react to the advice and admonition with anger or arrogance (I must admit that at times I was tempted to flash the middle finger but such murderous thoughts didn’t last long); instead, I quietly accepted it as a gift that is useless to me but given with warmth nevertheless. I smiled at them, not condescendingly, nor artlessly, but with the awareness that nobody is in a better position than I am to evaluate my mind, and therefore any such attempt is bound to fall short – at least in my eyes. Of course, the dark side of this whole business is that my instincts have driven me—often unconsciously—to be more careful around such people – the unsolicited advisors and admonishers; this has translated into the unfortunate measuring of utterances and the calculation of gestures – clearly a deviation from the natural flow of the self. Therefore the informal tête-à-têtes with such people are bound to decline albeit gradually and in not-so-obvious ways.

In my view, friends are those exceptional individuals with whom you can be yourself, in addition to the unmistakable emotional connection. This is both a function of the attitude of the friends—whether they continually judge you or not—and of your own preoccupation with what the world is thinking of you. The less they judge you and the less you agonize over what others’ think, the more comfortable the relationship. As a silent witness I observed some of my close friends moving far away from me and some of my casual acquaintances moving closer, becoming friends. Through this transitory phase, I tried to remain calm and accept the changing reality, which is inevitable. In such instances, I find solace in recollecting memories with old friends of mine whom I hardly get to meet but every time I do, we start from where we left off, even if that was months or years ago.

When I sat down to gather my thoughts on what the year 2017 has meant to me, more than what my ‘achievements’ were, or even what my ‘learning’ was, my mind was forcibly drawn towards where I stand as an individual; my focus was primarily on how I transformed through the course of these twelve months. ‘Achievements’ implies ego; ‘learning’ suggests an unfinished process; but ‘transformed’ connotes a newer, perhaps better, state of being that has already been effected. That said, to record some of the completed tasks and learnt lessons might be valuable for future improvements, and hence I have found it appropriate to archive them here.

My activities in 2017 were largely confined to the following domains: i. Writing, ii. Music, iii. Research, iv. Design, v. Publishing, and vi. Monkey Business (what my friends at Infy would call ‘इत्यादि-इत्यादि’).

I. I wrote some articles/essays and did a fair bit of translation/editing for Prekshaa Journal as well as for my upcoming books. Apart from having two short stories published (in Indian Review and Cha), I also spent some time writing a detailed outline of my first novel. I taught two courses at Bangalore Writers Workshop and was also a judge at the annual Deccan Herald short story competition. (Lesson learned: Working without constant expectations is both pleasurable and profitable; fretting over deadlines and unfinished projects is counterproductive.)

II. I formally dived into the amateur circuit of Carnatic classical music with an hour-long solo violin concert at Chowdiah Memorial Hall in November. Earlier in the year, I played a couple of chamber concerts. (Lesson learned: If playing in your room is tiring and playing in front of your guru is sweat-inducing, playing in front of an audience is in a different league altogether.)

III. This has mostly involved reading some of the important texts of the Hindu tradition, both primary and secondary sources. This has also meant my taking baby steps into the worlds of Sanskrit poetry, ancient Indian polity and law, history, Kannada literature, and the Epics.

IV. I designed close to fifteen books and four album covers, the highlight being the Prekshaa calendar. I also explored a bit in the area of Indic fonts and hopefully will have a breakthrough soon.

V. For all practical purposes, I didn’t write any book in 2017; I only published books (through W.I.S.E. Words Inc., the Indie publishing setup I run along with Dr. Koti Sreekrishna); eight in all: Stories Behind Verses (by Arjun Bharadwaj and Shashi Kiran B N; in collaboration with Prekshaa Pratishtana), பகவத்கீதை தற்காலத் தமிழில் (by Sripriya Srinivasan), The Song in Pictures (in association with my photographer-friends Anirudh, Anshuman, Divya, Frank, Navneeth, Prathigna, and Skanda), and five anthologies of essays by Prof. M Hiriyanna (a republication of otherwise unavailable classics).

VI. Apart from getting addicted to cryptic crosswords and card magic, I did some voice-acting on stage and voice-over work in the studio. Two short videos produced for Shaale stand testimony to what they’re worth. I signed out of Twitter and LinkedIn. I also spent a few extra hours sorting out my finances. Plus, I started cooking regularly. (Lesson learned: Without all this monkey business, my life will be meaningless.)

It is impossible to write down all the wonderful things I learnt in 2017 but it might be instructive—to my future self, if not anyone else—to document some learnings from my gurus as well as the wonderful artists I had the good fortune of meeting this year:

A. Ever since I was getting ready to perform on stage, my guru Dr. L Subramaniam has been consistently pushing me to improve my art; his focus has entirely shifted from the technical aspect of violin-playing (which was the mainstay during the early years of my lessons with him) and moved to the aesthetic and emotional aspects of music. To give life to every note, to add emotion to every phrase, and to make every performance unique has been his refrain. LS sir has often said: Even if you play for five minutes, it should be something sublime.

B. My entry into Sanskrit poetry and literature has been a direct result of the single-minded prodding, encouragement, and support given to me by Śatāvadhāni Dr. R Ganesh. His emphasis on the importance of familiarity with Sanskrit literature and classical art forms of India—particularly dance—for any student of Indian culture has influenced me deeply. Time and again I have felt that any student of Hindu heritage will benefit by embracing the holistic approach as advocated by Dr. Ganesh as opposed to the numerous other approaches, far more seductive in appeal but piecemeal all the same.

C. Dr. S L Bhyrappa made the astute observation that as a novelist and philosopher, instead of getting affected by a certain individual’s actions (often antagonistic in nature), he tends to go deeper into the psyche of that individual—regarding him/her as a character in a story—and analyzes the more fundamental reason that makes him/her behave in the said manner. In another instance, when Dr. Ganesh asked him during an interview, “What in your opinion keeps a relationship going? What truly sustains love?” he replied with a single word: Mārdava (tenderness, gentleness, compassion).

D. Every visit to Dr. S R Ramaswamy’s office room—rather karmabhūmi—in Chamarajpet is equivalent to reading a pile of books; he teaches us so much, not only by his eloquent speech but also by the force of his personality. When a friend of mine inquired about his fragile health condition, he merely said, “From my twentieth year, I realized that I’m just an āgantuka (stranger, guest, visitor) here in this world.” One seldom finds that sort of awareness—not merely in word, but in action as well. The wonderful paradox in SRR’s worldview is that although he feels like a visitor, he toils with the gusto of a landowner!

E. I have learnt so much just by observing Prof. L V Shanthakumari, an epitome of tranquillity. It baffles me how a person can transcend such pain and yet not make any bones about it. Her presence itself is calming and reassuring but not without a healthy dose of humour and wide-ranging discussion. If only our society had more elderly sages like her.

F. During a conversation I had with Mantap Prabhakar Upadhya, he spoke a great deal about the mind of an artiste during performance. He underscored the importance of art leading to self-forgetfulness; unless the artist can become one with the art, the connoisseurs will not get the ultimate experience. He then told me that when he dances, he doesn’t do it for the applause or for appreciation but as a means of washing off his ego.

G. In my interactions with Nirupama and Rajendra, I found unmatched zest for innovation and a relentless pursuit of self-betterment, not just as dancers but also as human beings. I am reminded of an old saying—One can accomplish almost anything for which one has unlimited enthusiasm—whenever I meet them. When there is absolutely no need to do anything different, when the formula works, and when things are going smoothly, and yet you choose to innovate, that is when you become a pioneer.

H. The continual learning from the extended Prekshaa family—it would be gross injustice to use a term like ‘team’ or ‘crew’—is something that I cannot fully put in writing. I have never seen a more selfless bunch of people, always putting the needs of the organization over their own, making mock of their own travails, and creating an atmosphere of riotous fun without ever subtracting from the tasks to be accomplished. To me, this is nothing less than lokasaṅgraha in action.

2017 started off with a celebration of my mother’s sixtieth birthday (in February) with a small get-together and large doses of music. On the occasion, we brought out her book Sixty Years, Sixty Episodes, a collection of interesting anecdotes from various dimensions of her life. By mid-year, our family was going through a terrible phase with the sudden deaths of members of the immediate and extended family. My grandmother, Smt. Malathi Rangaswamy passed away in July at the age of eighty-five. She was perfectly normal even the previous evening—afflicted by neither a fever nor a cold—and the next afternoon, she was gone. To live according to your terms is rare but rarer still is to die according to your terms. Those who knew her surely felt that with her passing, an era had ended. An old school orthodoxy that had its own warmth and beauty in spite of its obvious limitations. A life of rigorous economy and wise investments. A determination that always placed principles before passions; a firmness, even rigidity, that put faith above joys and comforts; motherly love that knew no discrimination; and benevolence that knew no bounds. The end of 2017 brings with it my father’s semi-retirement from his erstwhile semi-retirement. After a few successful consultancy assignments, he is setting out to write a book chronicling his twenty-year journey of social service in the area of Avoidable Blindness; quite aptly, he has chosen to call the book Eye-opener.

My travels this year were mostly limited to South India—south of the Vindhyas, to be precise,—a place that is my home and that satisfies me more than anywhere else on the planet, with the sole exception of the Himalayas.

The more I read international news and the more I talk to friends living in the US and Europe, the more I’m convinced that as on date, India is—in addition to being so vibrant and diverse—among the safest and sanest places to live in the world; doubtless, we have our own problems but when a population of over a billion is governed by less than a hundred thousand police stations and yet able to maintain peace by and large, then it has definitely something to do with our ‘civilizational maturity,’ as one of my friends put it.

Speaking at the launch of his most recent book, Dr. S R Ramaswamy recalled a wonderful remark by his guru D V Gundappa: “If we were to think that the Supreme [or Destiny or the universe; call it what you wish] bestows upon us those things that we deserve—ex officio—then we would have absolutely nothing. It is because of His immense kindness that He grants us—ex gratia—all the things that we have.” In sum, we don’t get merely what we deserve, but far more than that. And I shall leave you with that thought.

Here’s wishing you and your loved ones a great 2018!

Cheers, Hari