#but even closer to meaning my words in greater capacity

[maya-eden]

Sixth Sense - Part 2 ~ Natasha Romanoff

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: Foul Language, Fighting

Word Count: ~3.4K

Part 1 | Part 2

"What about now?" 

"No...just no."

"Ugh, I don't get what I'm doing wrong!"

Natasha's frustrated huff was received with a chuckle by Y/N, who tried burying her face against her pillow to muffle the noise, only to be whacked in the arm by the redhead.

"This sucks, you suck! I mean, who even invented this shit? Makes no logical sense at all." Natasha refused to admit defeat so instead preferred condemning the game.

"It's a kid's game, Red."

"Yeah, a very stupid one at that. Can I put this card over this one when they aren't the same color? And what if they are the same color and the numbers don't match? Can I add a +2 after you or not? You didn't explain this well enough." Natasha let her annoyance get the best of her and babbled all her words out at a speed far greater than what Y/N could ever pick up on.

Catching up on her misstep, she opened her mouth to apologize but when her remorseful eyes met her best friend's all statements were lost.

"Why are you smiling at me like that?"

Y/N appeared to be caught off guard by the question, looking down at the bed covers under her and gulping dryly as she came up with an answer.

"I don't think you have the mental capacity to play UNO."

Natasha wasn't expecting that, she huffed out in slight annoyance and nudged the chuckling Y/N in the leg before shoving the cards to the end of her bed and also laying down beside her best friend.

"Whatever. Gosh, I'm tired." The red-head brought her arm up to cover her eyes, not noticing the dreamy gaze that had taken over Y/N's eyes as she watched her.

"I'm on the lookout tonight, you can rest."

Natasha furrowed her eyebrows and perched up, looking at the other girl with confusion, "You were on lookout duty yesterday, though. Tonight's my night."

"I was on lookout two days ago. Tonight's my night."

She quirks an eyebrow at the response, trying to backtrack her days to make sure she wasn't being fibbed to.

"Y/N/N, are you trying to gaslight a master spy slash super hot assassin?"

Y/N's lips tilted into a small smirk and she adjusted herself on the bed to be closer to Natasha.

Slowly lowering the redhead to lay on her arms, she began running her hand through Nat's curls, making her, almost immediately, sigh in relaxation. "I don't know, am I?" She whispered.

Natasha's eyelids dropped and she couldn't do anything but nod in response, enjoying the warmness that Y/N's touch brought her.

She felt as if she was laying on clouds, "You're comfy." She confided quietly against Y/N's chest, knowing the latter wouldn't be able to hear her or read her lips.

Natasha slowly slipped further and further away from this reality, a peaceful dream world impatiently waiting for her. She was almost reaching it, when the steady scratches on her scalp were suddenly halted.

Groaning in resentment, she tilted her head, looking up to catch Y/N already watching her.

"Have you ever thought of escaping?"

The unexpected question made Natasha sit up with wide eyes and a fallen mouth, scooting away from Y/N as if the latter had stung her.

"What?"

Not missing the tension that suddenly filled the room, Y/N also sat up and faced her best friend, reaching forward to grasp the redhead's hand in her own.

"I just...I wa-why don't w-" she cut off her stuttering with an annoyed sigh and played with Natasha's fingers as she thought her words through. It didn't matter how much time had passed nor how low long the two had been best friends...even nowadays at almost eighteen, Y/N would find herself nervous at Natasha's more serious gazes.

"I don't want to fight or kill anyone else, Nat. I don't wanna hear stupid Madam B talking about Animal Planet again and I definitely don't want to pretend like I don't know you when there are other people around." The desperation for something more was presented in her strained voice and furrowed eyebrows.

She clenched Natasha's hand tightly as she spoke her next words, "I like you, Natasha. Why don't we escape together and live freely? Just you and me."

Needless to say, Natasha was caught off guard by the abrupt speech, having never heard such a narrative coming from Y/N before.

She pulled her hand away from her best friend's and drew it up to feel Y/N's head, searching for bumps.

"Did you hit your head when we invaded that warehouse some hours ago?" The question was genuine and the worry was obvious in Natasha's gaze but Y/N only rolled her eyes and looked out the window of their hotel room.

Their graduating ceremony was almost here so they both had joked about this being their last chance at gathering the best possible youth memories. After that, they'd constantly be shipped around the world to accomplish mission after mission and God knows how lucky they'd have to be paired up on missions as frequently as they had been until now.

Paris didn't seem to be too bad of an option for their last night together as teens. All they had to do was infiltrate a governmental warehouse that stored several classified documents. They were in and out in an hour without being seen, experience and skill making them as smooth with the operation as possible.

Tomorrow they'd be going back to Russia and Y/N saw this as her last chance to set things straight with Natasha.

She breathed in some air and suddenly faced the redhead again, "Tell me you don't like me, Nat. Look me in the eyes and tell me that." Her tone, as well as her usually soft gaze, were suddenly more strict and tense.

"I don't lik-" Her sentence was interrupted when Y/N suddenly gripped both of her cheeks and turned her head to make her look at her.

"Look at me when you lie." She whispered, clenching her jaw in what seemed to be irritation but also pain.

Natasha could read her too well. Every little expression on Y/N's face, that had once appeared so bland and monotonous to her, was now a myriad of feelings, thoughts, and emotions.

Her gaze fell to stare at her best friend's lips and she slowly found herself leaning in.

Gosh, the countless times she had wished to just let go of her fears and take those lips into her own. Taste them. See if they were as soft as they looked.

Natasha thought about what it would be like. To run away from the organization. Find herself a normal job and live a common life without worrying about whether she'd make it out alive tomorrow or not.

And then she pictured Y/N by her side.

"Just the two of us?" She whispered out, lost in the moment and looking for Y/N to guide her through the darkness.

"You and me, Red." The latter replied with nothing but sincerity in her gaze.

Natasha couldn't help but smile at the images that filled her head, reaching forward to gently cup the back of Y/N's neck.

She was about to fully lean in and meet her best friend's lips when something poked her thumb. Y/N was too caught up in the interaction to realize what was going on, but Natasha knew fully well what she was touching. The sharp little disk at the back of the other girl's neck...a tracking device.

The one Dreykov would use to locate and capture them. He'd get them back- even if he had to use all of his Widows to do so.

He'd torture them and kill them. Parade their bodies around the Red Room as a lesson for every other girl.

'You escape, you die. This is your aquarium, trying to leave it will only result in you choking to death'

So Natasha pulled away at the last second and cleared her throat before looking away. Her gaze fell on the UNO cards at the end of the bed.

"Can't we just go back to playing cards? This is our last real night as teens so why do we need to ruin it?"

Y/N was, visibly, caught completely off guard. Her eyes were almost fully closed since she was ready to be swept off her feet with a kiss that would take her breath away, so she didn't fully catch Natasha's words.

"W-what?" She stuttered out.

Natasha suddenly huffed and stood from the bed, marching from one side of the room to the other. Conflicted emotions shone brightly on her face.

She suddenly stopped and turned to Y/N with a clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows.

"Listen, I accept whatever you are but you have no right to push your agenda on me and try to manipulate me into doing something as reckless as even thinking about escaping."

The room was bathed in silence as Y/N tried to assimilate and think Natasha's words through.

The redhead was emotional and her words came out fast, lips blurring together into an incomprehensible mess that she couldn't read.

After the secret was revealed, Natasha was pretty quick to adapt to Y/N's disability, even in an environment as unhelpful as the Red Room.

Whenever it was just the two of them, she'd articulate her words precisely, while making sure to not look like a clown like she did the first time she had tried doing that.

When they were surrounded by people and Natasha noticed the small hint of fear flashing through Y/N's eyes whenever she didn't understand something, she would sneakily and silently guide her back into clarity. Be it with little gestures, nudges, and sometimes even full-on encrypted messages.

Right now, though, unlike all of those times, Natasha seemed to be too caught up in her emotions, rolling her eyes in anger when Y/N asked her to repeat herself.

"Fucking hell, Y/N!" Natasha gripped her hair in frustration and approached the girl. She tapped Y/N's chest a bit more forcefully than she initially intended to, "You." "And me?" Natasha tapped her own chest before shaking her head, "Never gonna happen. Did you catch that?"

"Why are you treating me like I'm a fucking moron?" Y/N squinted her eyes in pure confusion and discomfort.

Natasha snickered, "Because you are acting like one! Thinking we could be a thing and then asking me to run away with you? I mean, where are we? Hollywood Boulevard? We are not in a fairy tale, Y/N. We belong to the Red Room so you better start fucking accepting that. Control your feelings and act like the damn top-class student you are. 'Cause I'm done playing pretend with you. I'm done acting like everything is alright between us when we both know you have feelings for me and can't control yourself. I. Am. Done." Natasha asserted everything in one quick breath, not caring that Y/N wouldn't have picked up on every single word she said, and collected her jacket and duffel bag from the floor.

Without looking back at her best friend, she snatched her weapons from the chair they had been set in and bolted out the door.

_________

The next time Natasha saw her friend was three weeks after their fight at the hotel.

Y/N seemed to be avoiding her like the plague but it's not like the redhead had foreseen any other reaction from her...she just hoped, deep down, they could miraculously continue being friends, despite recognizing very well how much of an asshole she had been.

Life went on for both of them.

They were both sent on two separate missions, and by the time Natasha arrived, she was rushed into the training grounds.

The test for her ceremony had begun.

Killing the man was harder than she originally thought and then fighting the super soldier was no easy task either. Natasha convinced herself that if she let go now, she could end all the suffering in her life. 

But Madam B knew her far too well to not know when she wasn't committing 100% to a fight.

Natasha won and, in the blink of an eye, found herself strapped to a gurney with numerous nurses scrambling around her as she was being transported down a lengthy hallway.

The procedure left her alone with her subconscious for some hours.

When she woke up again, this time without her reproductive organs, she found herself already wanting to give up on the new life she had just started.

"I should've taken up on your offer to run." The drugs still present in her system turned her mind foggy and made her smile sloppily at Y/N, who had been sitting on the ground beside the infirmary bed and holding onto her hand for the past three hours.

The Y/E/C eyed girl didn't want to risk being discerned by one of the guards or the nurses doing their rounds, so the best solution was just ducking out of sight and hiding whenever someone came in.

"I'm not here to talk," Y/N commented shortly and coldly.

"Yeah, why are you here then? I haven't seen you in weeks."

Natasha would have known the answer to her question if she wasn't drugged out of her mind.

They had both been fearing this procedure for a while now and swore to be there for each other when the time came. So, when Y/N arrived back from her mission, bloody and exhausted, her feet seemed to form a mind of their own and she made her way to her friend.

That didn't mean she wasn't mad or disappointed, though, so she stayed quiet, ignoring the way Natasha squeezing her hand to get her attention brought butterflies to her stomach or the way such action made her rethink the redhead's words from the other day.

"Your hair is surprisingly fluffy for the shit soap they give us here." Natasha's free hand suddenly met Y/N's head.

The girl leaned forward and buried her nose in her best friend's curly hair, loving the comforting but fresh scent Y/N always seemed to carry. The latter had been using braids for the past few days because of her mission, so it was normal for her hair to have more volume.

Natasha didn't seem to pick up on this fact, though. "Very curly hair." She commented with a surprised hum.

"And you always smell very good which is unfair to us common mortals."

"Shut it, Natasha." Y/N hissed out, not amused by the antics. If the drugged girl proceeded with her spurs, guards would be bursting through the doors any second now.

"Oh dear lord! God of fluffy hair and good smells-" the redhead was almost shouting, employing every trick in her books to get Y/N's attention.

"-Natasha shut up!" Y/N whisper-shouted, pulling on Natasha's arm.

"Please, bring back what was once mine and give me my best friend's attention back! I was an ass and deserve puni-" Natasha's loud exclamations were cut off by a hand that was suddenly clasped to her mouth, keeping her silent.

Now standing, Y/N seemed a bit more amused, rolling her eyes and looking away in an attempt to hide the growing smile on her face.

"You're such an idiot." She grumbled, peaking at the window of the room to see if Natasha had caused any commotion.

Not catching any unusual behavior in the empty hallways, Y/N turned back to Natasha and suddenly noticed the way she was already watching her with pure admiration and love in her green eyes.

Y/N let her go and tilted her head with curiosity, wanting to see what her best friend would do.

"I'm in love with you, Y/N."

This considerably dampened Y/N's mood, "What?"

"I love you with my whole being and I want to live with you and have kids and a cat and maybe a turtle an-"

Natasha was cut off by the other girl, "-No, no, no." Y/N repeatedly shook her head, a deep frown taking over her face as her posture tensed up.

"Yes, Y/-" Natasha ignored the pain that coursed through her entire body to sit up and reach forward to cup Y/N's cheek, only to have her hand slapped away.

"-No, no. Natasha, I get that you're drugged but you're being mean."

"Y/N, I'm telling you the truth, let's leave this place. Let-"

Once again, Natasha was cut off.

The redhead's words seemed to be too much for Y/N. She shook her head again and backed away from the bed, "-Stop, stop it!"

She stared at the redhead with teary eyes and this appeared to be more than enough to bring Natasha back to her senses.

"I've been telling you that I like you since we were thirteen. You and I both know that I meant it romantically but you always brushed it off as a simple platonic comment. So you can't just tell me those words after the one time you royally fuck up. I understand that you may not feel the same way, but using my feelings as leverage to make me forgive you is just mean." Y/N finished her sentence with a hard glare on her face and used the sleeve of her uncomfortable spy suit to wipe away the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Y/N...I'm so sorry." A now much more serious and honest-looking Natasha spoke up, tears also filling her eyes.

She opened her mouth to continue her apology but her best friend beat her to it.

"I don't wanna hear it while you're like this. You're gonna heal and during that time you better start making up a god damn good apology inside that head of yours to make me forgive you. In the meantime, you stay quiet and go back to sleep." Y/N sniffled, once again whipping her tears with her sleeves and crouching down to sit on the floor. She silently held her hand out between them.

Natasha couldn't help the small teary smile that reached her face at the action and interlaced their fingers.

She knew she had messed up...but she also knew she could fix it. She was going to fix it.

Natasha did as told and spent the week where she was bedridden because of the vasectomy coming up with the best apology she could muster.

She was discharged on Friday and Y/N had left for a mission one day before that, leaving Natasha an apprehensive mess while she waited for her return.

Unfortunately, Natasha was dispatched on a mission a week later, on the same Monday that Y/N arrived from her mission.

The redhead cursed her luck at their misaligned schedules, reevaluating her apology over and over again as she infiltrated the building where her mission was about to take place.

Fate appeared to have different agendas for the two girls, though, because that day Natasha would find herself face to face with the one and only, Clint Barton.

The man who offered her a getaway out of the world she was imprisoned in all her life. He gave her a second chance at life, an opening to redeem herself and make up for all the wrongs she had brought about.

He assured her she wouldn't have to look back on this part of her life...that she could leave it all behind and move on to create a better future.

And Natasha accepted his propositions and surrender.

As the cuffed redhead strode inside the unfamiliar jet that would bring her to the United States and took a curious look around, Y/N opened her eyes for the first time after her vasectomy and also took a curious look around the familiar medical room she was laying in.

"Wakey, wakey, Y/N."

She anticipated a mop of red crouching beside her bed and smiling up at her but instead found Madam B and Dreykov surrounded by armed escorts.

They didn't look too pleased and readily dismissed her anguished cries, unhooking her from the machines and roughly hauling her across the Red Room towards Draykov's office.

They shackled her to an uncomfortable wooden chair and sat in front of her, letting one of the guards hold a knife to her face.

"Now...what can you tell us about Natasha Romanoff?"

/////

Taglist: @fayhar, @liladoesfanfics

[k-s-morgan]

Why do you think Alana so easily believed the worst of Will? aside from the encephalitis. She claimed to be his friend again and again but believed the best of Hannibal saying she knew him longer even though, as far as we know it was in a professional capacity, before he got involved with her. If my friend and someone I cared about was accused of what Will was framed for, I mean I would question it at least even a little! especially if said friend had an incredibly gift which he used to help so many times. I would at least stop and think “hmm Hannibal does fit the profile of the Chesapeake ripper to a T” It always bugged me about Alana. I’m rewatching the series and it she irks me all over again haha.

While Jack isn’t perfect, at least he gave Will the benefit of the doubt and did end up believing him and started investigating Hannibal further. Beverley went out on a limb for Will, too! someone who knew will for less time than Alana gave him more consideration! even Zeller later says Beverley believed in Will and that they should have as well bc if they did, she might still be alive

Thank you for an interesting question!

I think the problem is that Will and Alana were never friends, not really. We know they never even talked one on one before the start of the show. He referred to her rather impersonally and she admitted she didn't want to be alone with him because she felt intense professional curiosity toward him. That doesn't count as friendship.

They began to grow closer throughout S1, but even then, few of their interactions had depth. They flirted at times, discussed crimes, and talked about Will being unstable. Almost all of their interactions were colored by this last nuance, which had its impact. S1 starts in autumn that eventually grows into winter, so Will and Alana had just a couple of months where they talked occasionally and kissed once, with Will's jerky mental state haunting them on a constant basis.

As a contrast, Hannibal has been her mentor for over a decade, maybe more. He's always been stable and upfront; he helped numerous people and had a brilliant reputation in their circles. Since he kept beer specifically in stock for her, I think they shared a semblance of friendship for years. I also believe Alana has always been interested in him romantically. It wasn’t strong enough to encourage her to make her move, but it was simmering there and eventually culminated in the start of their ‘romance’.

Alana doesn’t know Will at all when it comes down to it, but she does know Hannibal. There was a lot of evidence against Will and nothing against Hannibal - it's logical of her to trust a well-known stable person over a basically stranger with severe problems. She knew Will's unstable from the start, she knew he’s struggling with something, but she didn’t know much of anything else. 

Alana supports Will up until the moment he gets treatment and stops playing in vulnerability. When he tries to kill Hannibal, Alana is horrified. She sees a dark and manipulative person, not a vulnerable soft man who needed help. She also starts feeling protective over Hannibal because Will hurt him. This is the only evidence she sees: Hannibal not hurting anyone, almost dying, and Will being a killer. She really has no reason to believe Will over Hannibal. 

I agree about giving Will the benefit of the doubt because of his work, but the situation was very complex: with all the evidence against Will, his abilities are exactly what potentially makes him a perfect killer. He could make up any profile and stick to it to confuse others.

I don't think Beverly went out on a limb for Will - initially, she seemed disgusted with him, but she wanted to use him for the greater good. Will blackmailed her into helping him, and once she began to see proof of his words, she got genuinely invested - not because of Will but because of justice. Will’s disappointment and loneliness in those scenes are profound. 

I can't blame any of them, to be honest, with all this evidence and the kind of personality Will had. I do wonder how come they believed Will swallowed an entire ear without chewing it, but that's probably a question for writers :D

[tyllt]

Quotes (pt. 3)

Poetry

Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep - Mary Elizabeth Frye

The Second Coming - W.B. Yeats

All the world's a stage - Jaques, As You Like It

Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius? - Hamlet, Hamlet

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird - Wallace Stevens

Set your heart at rest - Titania, A Midsummer Night's Dream

O, that this too too solid flesh would melt - Hamlet, Hamlet

Do not go gentle into that good night - Dylan Thomas

I know you all, and will awhile uphold - Hal, Henry IV

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening - Robert Frost

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance, pray - Ophelia, Hamlet

Bandersnatch Monologue - Colin Jones

Lord, we know what we are, but not what we may be. - Ophelia, Hamlet

The rest is silence. - Hamlet, Hamlet

Take pains; be perfect. Adieu. - Bottom, A Midsummer Night's Dream

Well, we were born to die. - Capulet, Romeo & Juliet

What do you read, my lord? Words, words, words. - Hamlet, Hamlet

We must not make a scarecrow of the law. - Angelo, Measure for Measure

I am now of all humors that have showed themselves humors - Hal, Henry IV

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more. - Hal, Henry IV

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow - Macbeth, Macbeth

And this same progeny of evils comes - Titania, A Midsummer Night's Dream

Praise

We owe God a death. - Hal, Henry IV

God is closer to me than I am to myself. - St. Augustine

When a man turns his face to God, he finds sunshine everywhere. - Abd'ul Baha

You have to ask God to defeat you, everyday. - Anonymous

Our loss is great, but God is greater. - Brandon Burlsworth

Every time I think of God it brings tears to my eyes. The one that holds the stars also holds my hand. - Liz's Happy Place

Then the sun smiled, and Christ smiled, and my laundry grew soft in the warm wind. There. See there. The world is good is me. - Linda Gregg

God is feeding me and what I'm praying for is an appetite. - Flannery O'Connor

Sisters, let us go mad for the love of God. - St. Theresa

When you are angry, do not sin; ponder it on your beds, and be silent. Offer righteous sacrifices, and put your trust in the Lord. - Psalm 4:4-5

Before God leaves, He clears the table, pats my head, and presses two messages into my palms. In my left, You are the bridge. In my right, you are the dust. - Paige Lewis

She would transform herself into sacred food. She would eat light, not matter; become food, not eat it. She would be consumed to become the host and consumed again as it. - Judith Van Herik

...God's incarnation in Christ is also going on in everyone, everywhere, at all times. - David Bentley Hart

Human nature is not a duality of body and soul; rather God's breath animates the dust and it becomes a single living being. - Anonymous

In early Christian hymns, hunger seems to mean human vulnerability; the implication is, therefore, that the hungry will be satisfied. In the spirituality of eleventh- and twelfth- century Europe, however, hunger began to mean a craving that can never be filled. - Caroline Walker Bynum

My fear is that much of what we call "spirituality" today is overly sanitized and sterile, far removed from the anguish of pain, the anchoredness of place. Without the tough-minded discipline of desert-mountain experience, spirituality loses its bite, its capacity to speak prophetically to its culture, its demand for justice. Avoiding pain and confrontation, it makes no demands, assumes no risk. - Belden C. Lane

Power

There are no bargains between lions and men. I will kill you and eat you raw. - Madeline Miller

I know these crowds have come from Paris to demand my head. I learned from my mother not to fear death, and I will wait for it with firmness. - Marie Antoinette

Everything had the boring residue of destiny on it. - Anonymous

There will be no further explanation. There will just be reputation. - Taylor Swift

I am the gun, the bullet, and the wound. I will not leave without you knowing I was here. - Anonymous

There is comfort in knowing the bones will win. - Anonymous

I am but mad north-north-west. - Hamlet, Hamlet

I don't have to outrun the bear, I only have to outrun you. - Anonymous

Higher, further, faster, baby! - Carol Danvers

This is the burden of the trailblazer and the solitude of the trendsetter. - Defunctland

So what a monumental achievement it is to be remembered for four. - Defunctland

If I die, I want to be born again and I want to be a footballer and I want to be Diego Armando Maradona again. I am a player who has given people joy and that is enough and I have enough. - Diego Maradona

I've got to stop getting obsessed with human beings and fall in love with a chair. Chairs have everything human beings have to offer, and less, which is obviously what I need. Less emotional feedback, less warmth, less approval, less patience, and less response. The less the merrier. Chairs it is. I must furnish my heart with feelings for furniture. - Carrie Fisher

Service

Do the good and throw it in the sea.

Life isn't about getting and having, it's about giving and being. - Kevin Kruse

What are you going to buy in your lifetime that is worth more than your humanity? - Anonymous

There are no lost causes.

Are you at peace? Can I pray for you?

Service to others it the rent you pay for your room here on earth. - Muhammad Ali

What do you want Me to do for you? - Mark 10:51

Forget not to show love unto strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. - Hebrews 13:2

Grief

A man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it in the river but then he's still left with the river. A man takes his sadness and throws it away but then he's still left with his hands. - Richard Siken

Life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. - Leonard Nimoy

This day, the next, a hundred years, it's nothing! It's a heartbeat. You'll never be ready. - Tom Hiddleston

I mean it this time: this is the last time I'm leaving without you. - firethesound

You wanted Death? This is it. Dirt and decay, nothing more. Death translates us all into earth. - Catherynne M. Valente

Dear Tree, I don't want to be sad: I just am. The explanation is just too far beyond anything. - Anonymous

Nothing is ever really over...just over there. - Carrie Fisher

Planets come and go. Stars perish. Matter disperses, coalesces, forms into other patterns, other worlds. Nothing can be eternal except GOD. - The Doctor

You will have days where you feel better, and you will have days where you want to die. Both are okay. There is no magical cure. You just need to close your eyes, and trust that the waves will pass, and soon you'll be able to breathe again. - Anonymous

Death is only the end if you assume the story is about you. - Jeffrey Cranor

I suppose in the end, the whole of life becomes an act of letting go, but what hurts the most is not taking a moment to say goodbye. - Yann Martel

To suffer together is to know love. - Anonymous

What is grief, if not love persevering? - Vision

There is no state of being healed...there is just healing. - Anonymous

To be alive at all is to have scars. - John Steinback

You have to allow the paint to break to make it beautiful. - Bob Ross

You see this cup? This is literally my favorite cup. Now it's gone forever. So it's not real and I don't care about it anymore. - Jake

The soul has to go on loving in the emptiness, or at least to go on wanting to love, though it may only be with an infinitesimal part of itself. - Anonymous

Because it's senior year, I have begun to see things as potential absences: the things I love will become the things I'll miss. - Anonymous

Love is so short, forgetting is so long. - Pablo Neruda

But then it passed, as all things do. - Anonymous

I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened. - J.R.R. Tolkien

And tomorrow will be kinder. - Secret Sisters

Everything stays, right where you left it. Everything stays, but it still changes. Ever so slightly, daily and nightly. In little ways, when everything stays. - Olivia Olson

[bestvanillaperfume29]

Thirteen Greatest Best Vanilla Perfume For Each Scent

Quite the alternative actually – Vanille Antique is so nuzzly and ambrosial, it literally beckons you to return closer. Normally when we scent one thing it’s a fleeting expertise, because the receptors in our nose swiftly erase one scent to organize for the next. But a slosh of vanilla slows down this process to really let the spice come alive in your pores and skin. “Vanilla holds other supplies and brings the depth you need in amber fragrances, which linger for longer,” explains Harris. On fragrance labels, you could run across different names such as eau de toilette, eau de parfum, or best vanilla perfume oil

Inspired by Mona Kattan's bestselling fragrance, Vanilla 28, this sultrier mix is price a spritz. It's an eclectic mixture of sweet vanilla, delicate golden rum, sugared patchouli, crème brulée, and royal oud. Founder Rose Jane designed the fragrance to really feel nostalgic and youthful — therefore the vanilla — however it's a softer, airier version than a few of its super-sweet friends.

While heat spices make the most of notes like clove and cinnamon, cool spices are more crisp because of pepper, cardamom, and ginger. If you’re in search of a spicy vanilla fragrance that feels fitting year-round, this is a wonderful selection. Plus, we love the magnetic prime on the bottle and the reality that it seems like a super high-end fragrance with out the high-end price ticket. "One of my favorite issues about best vanilla scent perfume is its unique capacity to make the wearer feel something," says Alyssa Kaplan. Juliette Has a Gun is a cult-favorite fragrance model for a reason—every certainly one of their perfumes is to die for, including their tackle vanilla.

It's so warm and spicy, because of the espresso notes, but has a touch of powdery rose that makes it odor much more sophisticated. In the preliminary spray, it's very powdery, however features the gentle espresso and coriander notes as it dries, which is prob why I love it on other individuals so much. This is the quintessential summertime fragrance, and it lasts legit all day once I spritz it on my skin (even a day filled with dipping in the pool and sipping spicy margs). Immediately my nose picks up on the creamy coconut and citrus-y bergamot notes, but as it sits on my skin, I get the warm pistachio and amber and brilliant jasmine notes too. It's definitely very sturdy, however with freshness, not in a sickly candy or cloying means. With that being said, this best vanilla scent perfume does have several layers, opening with gentle, powdery florals (think tangerine, orchid and heliotrope) that are enhanced by almond, brown sugar and coconut.

While we can completely think about the singer pulling it off, we discovered that for us, it’s somewhat too much on the candy facet. While this may be fantastic for some (preferable even), it was marginally too overpowering for our tester. Think fluffy marshmallows and orange blossoms laced with a beneficiant dose of vanilla—and you get the gist.

Our first impressions were that this scent is light, breezy and youthful—a great alternative for everyday put on, especially during spring and summer time. No perfume wardrobe is complete with out probably the greatest vanilla perfumes. Creamy and comforting with a splash of sweetness—vanilla is the final word crowd pleaser that, in the fragrance field, demands to be observed. A spicy orange, creamy caramel cake vibe – with whispers of florals and woody notes.

Meanwhile, when magnificence PR manager, Steph Easton, wrote about her lack of a sense of scent for GLAMOUR, she reported crowd-sourcing her perfumes based on their reactions from others. Juicy Couture's Viva La Juicy Gold Couture Eau De Parfum – a golden mix of honeysuckle, amber and – you guessed it – vanilla. Deanna Pai is a contract writer and editor who has been covering beauty, well being, and wellness for greater than a decade. She not solely has an extensive fragrance assortment but opinions about all of them.

The Private Blend Collection are Tom Ford’s artistic luxury fragrances – which have been created in collaboration with world famend perfumers, using tremendous high-quality elements. …The creamy honeyed-vanilla begins to heat up… and is joined with a burnt smoky woodiness – which balances the sweetness out (and stops it from changing into too sweet). This opens up bittersweet, with creamy honeyed-vanilla combined with milky coconut and black liquorice. This is unisex and for all ages (days or nights), and extra geared for the fall and winter.

The difference here is the share of perfume oil and its focus, which might affect the longevity and character of the perfume. Choosing between the three is a matter of personal desire and skin and nose sensitivity. Here, Harris breaks down the professionals and cons of every sort of fragrance. We love that Skylar makes gorgeous-smelling fragrances with elements we are in a position to truly pronounce. You'll never find animal byproducts, parabens, endangered vegetation, or pores and skin sensitizers of their products. Instead, all of Skylar's perfumes are vegan, cruelty-free, and hypoallergenic.

When it begins to dry down… the pink pepper begins to fade, and also you get a barely powdery floral… mixed with a candy boozy-vanilla and gentle tobacco vibe. We know there are tons of perfumes on the market, so we’ve carried out all the onerous work and rounded up our tried and tested prime favorite vanilla fragrances. There are even gender-neutral choices with notes of black vanilla and dried Liquorice that make for one of the best men’s cologne. Best-known for being certainly one of Rihanna's favourite perfumes, Love Don’t Be Shy is a young, flirty gourmand that consists of honeysuckle and rose, topped with sugary marshmallows and a glug of vanilla. It’s juicy, barely syrupy and but there is something tender underscoring the perfume at the identical time.

"It's funny you need to ask," she answered, adding that whenever she wears Mugler's Alien Goddess, she receives a compliment. The base of the fragrance is jojoba oil, which is tremendous moisturizing, and retains the scent in your pores and skin for longer. This might be super embarrassing, however I own every single considered one of Henry Rose's perfumes. But in relation to my go-to fragrance from Michelle Pfeiffer's beauty model, Torn reigns supreme. If I had to choose the most popular vanilla fragrance on this list, my selection can be this gem by Kayali. With a stable 139.6K favorites on sephora.com, I've also heard of its recognition among workplace conversations and within my circle of pals.

Take this genderless fragrance, which is instantly inspired by the spice route that for hundreds of years wound its means from Asia to Europe. Naturally, this international little quantity brings collectively one of the best spicy notes while still feeling contemporary and straightforward to put on. This perfume is called after considered one of Christian Dior's favourite desserts, the Diorama Gourmand (details of the actual pastry are a thriller as there are not any true information of it).

It does smell somewhat boozy whenever you first spritz it on, but finally dries down to a delicate, super-wearable spice. As expected, it's grounded within the essence of cognac, which is derived from the precise liquor and provides the fragrance its amber hue. While it does scent boozy at first spritz because of that, it transforms right into a extra spicy and gourmand scent because it dries down — think apple pie filling — due to a creamy blend of oak, cinnamon, praline, and vanilla. Together, the notes offer a memorable and appropriately intoxicating scent that's, pun meant, heavenly.

If you need a fragrance that will smell sturdy for hours and hours, you must positively opt for an eau de parfum (EDP), which has a stronger focus of perfume oils than an eau de toilette (EDT). For reference, the entire perfumes above are EDPs, whereas body sprays and light-vanilla perfumes are often EDTs. This is technically marketed for men, but fragrance has no gender, which is why I proudly put on this spicy perfume myself. But tbh, I actually gifted this to a man I was dating once because I needed my companion to smell like it too.

The perfume comes in a box that looks like a guide that opens as a lot as reveal the bottle. Also, the side of the bottle looks like the backbone of a e-book with the name of the scent. It then begins to get extra refined, but we found it to have GREAT long-lasting efficiency. And the nice news… this is super-long-lasting; up to 10 plus hours! Resinous myrrh saves the vanilla and almond components in the base from being the same old candy confection. The total effect is earthy and intoxicating with brighter hints of lavender and honey adding to its unisex appeal.

Growing up, the bottles of physique sprays, lotions, butters and eau de toilettes that lined my bathroom self-importance had been far sweeter than a dessert-filled episode of The Great British Bake Off. My rotation typically included Britney Spears's Fantasy (or Curious); a pure-sugar scent that, not surprisingly, was called Pink Sugar; and anything my assortment of shiny magazines was advertising. If it smelled like a frosted cupcake with sprinkles, I was—without a doubt—wearing it. Heretic’s delicate, sensual vanilla scent with an undercurrent of sultry sandalwood and fiery coriander is out there in sizzling. Playing up vanilla’s mostly undiscovered darkish facet, Dirty Vanilla hits immediately with a robust, spicy entrance that softens because it evolves with put on to disclose a sweet, creamy vanilla essence. While this fragrance is a lighter eau de toilette, its scent nonetheless packs a punch, Shapiro says.

Currently, each single considered one of my winter coats smells like this as a outcome of I can't cease spraying it earlier than I walk out the door. As the scent evolved on the pores and skin, we began to detect the creamy vanilla and warming woodsy base which left a lasting impression once the freshness subsided. While we preferred the opening to the dry-down, the notes do go collectively well and create a pretty, joyful scent. Scent apart, we’d likely buy this perfume for the gorgeous bottle alone—it’s center-piece worthy and be very welcome as a a present.

In reality, the notes which would possibly be included in a perfume to enhance vanilla could make a large distinction within the consequence of the scent. So when you’re shopping for a vanilla fragrance, hold your fragrance preferences in thoughts and look for complementary notes that assist them. For example, when you are most likely to get pleasure from fresh or citrusy perfumes, search for notes of orange, bergamot, cotton, or mint. If this sounds appealing to you, go for the Ellis Brooklyn SCI FI Eau de Parfum. If you want warmer, extra rich vanilla scents, search for fragrances that include other candy notes, like espresso, caramel, or chocolate.

If heat vanilla scents are your factor (or even when they're not), keep studying to find a variety of the most delectably mouth-watering scents that are sure to turn out to be your next signature scents. Don't be shy, hold scrolling to give yourself a vanilla-spiked candy treat for your senses. Inspired by Morocco, Madagascar vanilla slices via notes of bergamot and Bulgarian rose, while sandalwood, amber, and musk anchor this perfume.

Beth Gillette is the sweetness editor at Cosmopolitan with nearly 5 years of experience researching, writing, and enhancing perfume and beauty tales that vary from stretch-mark lotions to hair-removal creams. She’s an authority in all fragrance categories but an skilled in relation to vanilla perfumes after sniffing, testing, and reviewing almost every perfume launch over the last yr. Amidst the hundreds of thousands of perfumes on the market, you wish to find the one that’s playful, but not too girly; musky but nonetheless effeminate; heat however with stunning notes that maintain it recent. Most of all, you want to find a scent that feels such as you — no convincing necessary. But at the identical time as we tested this through the sunny weather, we still enjoyed the calming aroma and obtained a quantity of “you smell great” compliments on this perfume.

Here, one of the best vanilla perfumes our editors love, from cult scent classics to buzzy newcomers. Applying a few spritzes of a heat, cozy fragrance is one of our favourite methods to embrace chilly climate. Think of this one as a slightly warmer tackle a traditional vanilla. Cappuccino mixes with pure vanilla to offer it an extra dose of sweetness—but don’t be fooled by the gourmand blend, it’s not sickly sweet or overpowering. The addition of caramelized cedar offers it only a hint of woodiness that provides the proper balance. Beth Gillette is the beauty editor at Cosmopolitan with 5 years of experience researching, writing, and enhancing fragrance stories that range from Le Labo perfumes to low-cost perfumes.

[stankycowboy]

Moving On

“We are here, live at the site of a raging diesel fire caused by the demolished truck you can see behind me. Few details are known about the origin of this supposed collision, but there is little doubt that the driver is likely deceased”.

The newscaster pointedly turns her head over one shoulder to stare at the Firefighters focusing streams of suppressant chemicals and water on the blaze, keeping it moderately contained. She speaks, a calm voiced narrator, over the hectic shouting and commands of those actively addressing the chaos. She delves into what few details she has ascertained by the first responders to the scene, that the truck Jack-knifed, that they have yet to be able to gain access to the cabin, that there is no evidence of any cause for the truck to have stopped here. Vague assumptions are made, presumed suggestions offered, more in the interest of keeping viewers attention rather than elucidating the truth.

Through the craze of activity no one seems to notice the one who passes amongst them, heels of his boots meeting the asphalt with a resounding ‘clack’ like a hammer meeting a nail, driving it deep.

At least, that is what it sounds like to him.

The one going neglected, unaddressed by either the emergency workers, the semi-omniscient orator, or the tragedy hungry rubberneckers; not the lost soul they expect to find, but the last living creature confined to this flaming grave. Buried under twisted steel and flaming wreckage lies the cause of the surrounding catastrophe. A trapped immortal dying, reviving, tortured by his own overconfidence, punished by the boldness gained by a lifetime of never suffering the consequences of uninhibited actions.

There is suddenly a break in the cycle of cacophonous pain and agonizing anguish, a relief from feeling his every organ try to heal then simultaneously die, the continual punishment of experiencing one’s skeleton re-knitting itself as it reduced to ash in the insufferable heat.

His personal hell finally abating. For a moment he wondered if he had truly died.

A life run hard, taking every risk possible, now slipping from his grasp loosing him into the ether of whatever else waited beyond. Yet, if that were so he doubted he would have been able to deduce any sensory input, even what he hears— those coffin nail heels approaching— a strange revelation, what would deign to grant him peace? How could they know where to find him, and why they were coming?

It was a perplexing mystery— none more so than how he could possibly be hearing them at all, resonating not in his ears nor his mind, but in the very core of him— one he did not have the capacity to untangle at the moment. All he could comprehend was that whatever was coming was coming to him; this was intrinsic knowledge. He could only hope it was to release him from these confines; whatever the price, whatever the conditions.

“My boy you sure found yourself in it”.

The voice carried surprisingly well, straight to him; perhaps only to him. Even though he could not see the speaker—he was pretty sure one of his eyes was still absent, and the other was most assuredly damaged— through the smoke and debris an image was painted in his mind—the devious expression most notable.

“Don’t you worry about seeing me, I see you, see you very well”. The words carried a power, a meaning that was hidden from outright perception, rather radiated a reverence, one that came from another land.

Somewhere above and beside him, Severen felt the figure draw closer, could sense them kneeling down, leaning over, as if their shadow carried a weight all its own.

“You are meant for greater things, better things than these I warrant”. Severen was caught somewhere between offense, having never felt the life he lived was lesser by any means, and the innate curiosity by what possible “greatness” he could be destined for. Unable to speak, he still pushed vitriolic thoughts forward, a comeback formed even in his misfiring brain.

Laughter from above, cold, humorless.

“Yes, I thought as much”.

There was a shift, a weight now on his chest, perhaps another part of the undercarriage had broken off and decided to rid the world of the rest of him; crush out what life remained. In that place deep in the amphitheater of his mind he thought he could see the man, dressed in black, braced upon him, hands at either side of his face.

“I can’t ask one such as yourself to serve, so I won’t”, he could feel the other one’s smile like an imperceptible force pressing against him as it spoke poisonous words he felt himself hungering for without volition.

“Instead I will tell you the truth, whether you believe or not, that you will come when I call”.

Again Severen’s innate temper flared at being commanded, despite the inner temptation being compelled. The beast would be harnessed by no master, but the wounded animal still sought reprieve by any means. The man did not ask permission, did not hesitate further, a stream of arcane utterances pouring forth from between grinning lips.

Whether imagined or real, Severen could feel beads of cold spittle scalding across the skin of his face, blistering burns like acid, though he felt an invigorating rejuvenation coursing through newly repaired veins.

“Find me at the Tower, Gunslinger”.

Were the last resounding words that echoed throughout, a seal on a contract Severen was not sure he understood the fine print of, and yet knew he would have signed voluntarily if given the chance. A man that knew only eternal hunger, would seek all sources of satisfaction, this was no different. With a test of his newly restored body, Severen grabbed what he had deemed to be the mysterious, benevolent stranger, and thrusted the obstacle up and off of him.

It turned out to be debris, nothing difficult for him previously, now taking even less effort, little more than upward motion was needed to free himself.

In tatters, held together by naught but sinew and twisted leather scrap, he stood, a heaving, dripping mess of confusing assemblage. Slowly he was coming back to a whole, an escalating consciousness filling the body once sundered, reviving it into something determinedly living; to the ruination of all present. Severen burst through the remaining wreckage that blockaded him, a risen revenant back to haunt the mortals that scattered back to avoid the litter of heated metal that hurtled past them.

To the Tower, the man had said, and even just returned he could feel its call in the core of him; an ever present whisper. What it was that was drawing him, why he should bother to heed it, was not a question he could form.

It simply was.

And this he could understand.

Before he started on this new journey, this new path to guide him—a creature with no home—he would allow himself a reprieve from the machinations of others; an indulgence all his own.

One of those that had been attempting to rescue what they thought might be a survivor in need was rewarded for their efforts by being wrapped into Severen’s flaming arms; his still loosely ajar mouth finding its way around their throat, serrated teeth tearing at the protective cloth keeping him from the firefighter’s flesh.

He could hear their screams, muffled by either his still recovering ear canals, or their helmet—perhaps both— they only encouraged his hunger. Just as he felt something impact his body, his teeth clamped onto sweat slicked skin. Blood entered his mouth, leaking out of the unsealed portions of his cheeks, spattering down his throat as he widened the tear. This would not be his only victim, especially as they desperately sought to free their companion.

As he complied with their requests, dropping the limp form of the human into their clawing hands, Severen noticed that the diminishing fire was not the only source of light, the sun had risen over the few standing buildings lining the street as he had lain prone; a new day begun. He would have expected to flinch, to react through instinct to the burn he should be feeling, but all he could manage was to stare, the brilliant sun he had not seen as anything other than a blight upon his existence was an intoxicating sight. He stood in reverence, knowing now for certain what he had been granted and that the payment would be steep, still he could feel nothing but the thrill of his power returning to him in full.

Senses refocusing, Severen turned to address the panicked prey, prying out the axe that had been embedded into his back, burying it back home into the nearest bystander. Any who had remained to play hero and slay the monster among them, or had not realized that what had come free was an inhuman terror, were now made aware of what their fates were to be—a horror recorded live for all to see thanks to the vigilant cameraman too invested to flee.

The revived creature rent through those assembled like a plague amongst man. None but those that had made their escape early were likely to survive, and even that was not guaranteed. He was determined to set upon his way fulfilled— if that was a state he could ever reach again.

What was slowly becoming apparent was that there was nothing more for him here, but the horizon was not yet reached, journey not truly begun, as it so happened, there were other worlds than these.

[tangleweave]

🙋 How would Vis define the following words: kindness, compassion, gentility, charity, patience? Does he see the virtues as that, or are they weaknesses of logic? How does he process emotion, or does he?

[ Headcanons / Accepting ]

Vision has a particular quirk of programming when working to process questions that require more than factual recitation. For matters that require meaningful thought and interpretation, his means of delaying his own verbal response is a quick tilt of his head. That is, in itself, an imitation of an android on a television program from thirty years ago, more than it is a quirk of his own development... but it grants him a moment's reprieve as he takes the questions into consideration from the young woman nursing her mug of tea.

"By my interpretation, the terms you put forth are inextricably interwoven with one another," he replies. His tone is not chiding, but matter-of-fact. "I would argue that kindness, gentility, and charity are all born from a spirit of compassion... so I shall begin with that term. Compassion is, at its core, a concern for the suffering of others, in whatever form such suffering may take, and a wish for mercy from it."

He folds his hands and shifts in place to turn more fully towards her. "Kindness is a child of compassion insofar as it is an attempt to uplift one another from the burdens of tribulation... and failing that, a mission to refrain from adding to those burdens. Gentility... a soft touch, in word and in deed, a demonstration of awareness that not every experience requires solid impact and full contact to be meaningful. Charity... is the very act of compassion, made manifest, through the unconditional offering of one's own resources to ease the difficulties of those without them."

He tilts his head once more and offers a small smile. "And patience, of course, is the capacity to tolerate inconvenience, difficulty, even failure, without succumbing to frustration, anger, or despair."

He releases his hands from clasping one another and spreads his fingers. "I am afraid I don't know how to properly demonstrate that I understand these as more than just fallacies of biological thought. but I do know that more species than just humanity operate by codes of mercy, sometimes to no discernible benefit to the whole... and that is hardly the point. The point, rather, is that there may yet be some purpose, some utility to be offered by, for example, the infirm, the unfortunate, even the foolish. And it is more demonstrably to the benefit of the whole to cherish such values, even if greater resources must be expended to nurture them." His brow descends closer to his eyes, his equivalent of a thoughtful frown. "I do not believe it to be flawed logic. Even machines understand the necessity of devoting greater-than-nominal resources to underperforming structures or programs. Whether that, itself, is a feature of our own programming or a takeaway from the ingenuity of our creators... I couldn't say."

The final question gives him a longer pause than did any of those previous, and he ponders for several long moments before putting forward his reply. "I suppose... I experience emotion in a much more clinical, analytical, and segmented manner than you. As emotion is reactive, I am able to, in the moments I experience them, quantify the assortment of emotions by percentage. For instance, as I analyze your question, I am registering 23% surprise, 47% curiosity, 6% doubt, 18% hope, and 6% frustration. I can explain what inspires each of these subsets of my emotional output with clarity. For every emotional response I experience, a logical thought process is applied before action is undertaken."

A faint smile appears on his features. "It must all sound very... dry, to you. And I will not deny a desire to experience emotions far more as you do. To know the... the mess, I suppose one could call it. To live in the moment and simply have all of those feelings wash across me and through me. It might lead me closer to understanding rash decision-making... from people other than Mr. Stark, of course."

[cinnamonest]

Lupophobia

Yandere "Escape Attempt" prompt - Razor

-------------------- Words: 8,944 Warnings:-fem reader, attempted noncon beastiality (none actually happens), yandere/captivity, noncon, biting, breeding, brief gendered themes/tones involving animal mating. Heavily inspired by my degrees of lewdity "deviant"/beastiality playthrough. I applied things I learned in college linguistics for this. Truly putting my education to a good purpose. --------------------- The fortunate thing about animals, and their adjacents, was that they were very easy to deceive, and no matter what, they would fall for the same trick, time and time again. "You see it girl? You want it?" You grimaced at the slimy texture on your fingers, wiggling the fatty slab in your grip and swallowing the sickness that came from looking at it. Out of, you supposed, ingrained social habits, you gave an awkward smile as you wiggled the meat. In contrast, the wolf had the opposite reaction, her ears immediately perked up, and she leaped into a playful position, front half low to the ground as her tail stuck up, and a low whine escaped her throat, eyes fixated on the meat. Yes, unlike with people, who had a greater capacity for pattern recognition and learning, who followed the fool me once, fool me twice mantra, you could count on animals to be easily deceived over and over without having to change the way you deceived them. This was far from the first time you had pulled this exact move, nor was it difficult to do -- you merely waited for a spare moment to rip out a chunk of the meat and hid it away for a little while while the rest of the pack was not looking, too absorbed in their own gorging to even cast a glance in your direction. "You want it...?" You repeated, wiggling the slab again in front of the wolf's eyes. Drool spilled out of the side of her mouth between her sharp, glistening teeth, and she let out another whine.

This was not the first time this trick had worked. This was not the first time you'd managed to steal and hide a hunk of meat away while the animals gorged themselves on the remains of whatever poor creature fell victim to them. Hell, this wasn't even the first time that this specific trick had worked on this specific individual wolf. You'd come to recognize each of them with time, even assigned them little names in your head by identifiers. She was a mother, one of the wolves that remained behind at the little den while the others went out for hunting, leaving only the nursing females, the smallest pups, and, well, yourself. Albeit in a weakened state in nursing, they were still easily capable of overpowering you, and, through means you honestly did not understand, they somehow knew they were supposed to prevent you from leaving. Even when you stood up, one or more of them would immediately pick their heads up, ears falling flat and even letting out the softest of warning growls.

She whined in front of you, eyes fixated on the slab. You wiggled it again. It was an easy deceit to pull off. "You want it... then go... get it!"

You hurled the hunk of red flesh as far as your arms could manage, and, exactly per plan, the she-wolf immediately bolted in the direction of the throw. And likewise, you turned on your heel and began the now-routine dash in the opposite direction -- the direction of human civilization. That had been the easy part.

It was the rest of the way that would be difficult. This time of day was the only opportunity you had to pull this whole thing off, but the sun was quickly setting, and unlike the wolves, you were not exactly gifted with night vision. You likened the route to an obstacle course, a puzzle -- repeated actions that became muscle memory. The first few times, you'd merely stumbled around in the woods for a few minutes. With each successive attempt, you retained more knowledge of the path, could clear a longer distance in increasingly shorter times, memorized landmarks, remembered little helpful actions and hindrances, and with each successive attempt, you found yourself making it closer and closer to the end of the woods than the time before. There wasn't much else to go by, so you used trees that stood out to you. The huge tree with the hollowed out hole in the center was the first landmark -- go right. The tree that had an oddly-angled branch came next. So on and so on. You measured success by how many of said landmarks you could pass in time, striving to make each a longer and longer venture every time. Just when despair had been finally getting the better of you, the last attempt had had you finding a footpath used by the Springvale hunters, and that meant you were close. If you could just find that again -- there. To say flat ground was a welcome feeling to your bare feet was an understatement. The slimy dirt texture of the forest floor and prickly leaves and pine needles was not a pleasant sensation. Nonetheless, there was no time to savor it or anything, soon, soon, you'd walk on paved streets, and floors, and, and... You stopped for a mere moment, panting, desperately taking in deep breaths to soothe the exhaustion burning in your chest. You darted your head from side to side. There was no sign of anything coming your way. No footsteps or growls in the distance behind you. You felt your heart pounding in your chest, as much from physical exertion as it was from a blooming, disbelieving excitement. I might actually make it.  Your legs felt weak at the prospect, and you steadied your stumbling against a tree. You were certain you'd never made it this far before. It was difficult to process, almost surreal. After so, so, so many times, over the course of months and months, you were so used to being stopped by this point that your brain half-expected it at any moment. You'd really reached a point at which the escape attempts were almost done with a knowing futility, you no longer really had much hope when setting out, merely running on principle and the faint chance that was now so real. You could be stopped any moment. And yet, after a few more breaths, nothing happened. You shook your head to clear the dizziness, taking a deep breath and squinting forward in the twilight. You nearly felt your heart stop when you processed a shape in the distance -- a building. Springvale. It was distant and downhill, but visible. Right there within your reach, and all you had to do was go to it, so you steadied your breath and took off as fast as-- The world suddenly spun around you as something snatched at your ankle. Your shriek echoed off the trees, reverberating until it grew silent. A clanging of metallic sounds accompanied it, rattling hollowed objects triggered into motion. Everything began to settle, the sudden flooding of stimuli to your eyes and the feeling of sudden movement both slowing to a gentle sway. You were unbreathing, unblinking, heart pounding as your vision spun and, in a panicked haze, you desperately darted your eyes and head each way, struggling to process your senses. Your head felt suddenly tight and tense, your upper half heavy, and a burning pain wrapped around your ankle. Everything was... upside down. You looked down -- no, up -- at your feet. One was bent at the knee, falling in the direction of gravity towards your head, the other was extended perfectly straight, tense and unable to move. A cord was snagged around your ankle, a perfect tightened knot that wrapped around the flesh. You looked up -- no, again, down -- at the ground. Nausea lurched in your stomach as you did, seeing the forest floor a good drop below. You took a moment to process. You followed the trail of the rope from where it tugged painfully at your ankle, followed it to the branch it looped over, and down the trunk to the base of the tree, where it was securely tied around a knotted root. The metallic sound had come from what appeared to be collected garbage, metal scraps, a glass bottle or two, and some metal tools and cans all tied up in a net and secured to the spot where the rope met the branch, an alert that the trap had been set off. Your mouth hung open, you blinked over and over, before finally, bitter anger burst in your chest. "Ghhhhh!" You let out a frustrated, furious cry, thrashing wildly and pulling at your scalp. You kicked and struggled, but only succeeded in making yourself swing, making the nausea and dizziness worse. A trap. Of course. The furthest you've ever gotten, and you were stopped by a fucking hunting trap. Damn those Springvale hunters for coming this far out into the woods. It could be worse, you tried to console yourself. It could have been a bear trap, which would have more or less destroyed your leg, possibly taken it clean off. But nonetheless, misery and frustration bubbled up in your chest as you swung back and forth, slowing down to stillness. You'd never made it this close to town before. You could see the road as well, albeit just barely, a few hundred yards in the distance. You could make out where the dirt path became gravel in the distance, upside-down in the last light of the quickly-setting sun, and, as tears filled your eyes, you reached a hand out to it, miserably grasping your hand shut before letting your arm fall. It was so, so close! Now you were trapped, stuck here in this miserable, humiliating predicament, and you'd have to wait to be saved, and inevitably dragged back the way you'd come. You thrashed again, trying and failing to curl your body up and reach your foot. Your fingers just barely grazed the knot of the rope, but even if you could reach it, it was designed for your body weight to hold the knot in place to begin with. You let out a shaky sigh and a small sob, tears dripping directly out of your eyes and falling downward with gravity. You wiped your eyes, and a thought made a bit of nervous, daring hope light up in your chest. You were close to Springvale, right? Maybe you could be heard. This trap was set by the Springvale hunters themselves, right? You'd seen these types before, a snare that, when tripped, released on one side and whipped around the center of the force that tripped the rope, forming a perfect, tight knot around the ankle of the prey before hauling it upwards by use of weight. You took a deep breath and cupped your hands around your mouth. "Help!" You called out, straining out the vowel as long as you could, before inhaling a ragged breath and repeating the action. As the echoes quieted, you waited, but nothing happened. You wriggled and writhed, but only succeeded in making the net of metal rattle. You supposed it helped the hunters hear animals struggling, and led them to the source. But the hunters wouldn't be back out until tomorrow, you couldn't afford to wait for them to come rescue you on their own. You waited a moment, trying again and again to yell. The Springvale hunters, a traveler on the road, hell, you'd accept help from treasure hoarders if they hung out in this part of the wilderness. Anyone, anyone human. Well, except one, preferably, but still. Any other human being. You couldn't even remember the last human interaction you'd had. At least, a fully human interaction, without any licks or whines or growls or other canid behaviors you'd become far too accustomed to. But nobody came. You waited. Tried again. And again. And again. No response. Your head was beginning to pound and throb. You'd black out if you stayed like this much longer, and you were pretty certain it could even kill you. But nothing was responding to your cries for help. You wracked your brain in panic for a solution. An idea popped into your head. You'd seen Razor do it before, and the wolves responded to him even though he produced the sound with a human voice, so maybe you too could... It was embarrassing, but worth a try. You didn't exactly have many options. You jerked your bodyweight in the other direction, making yourself turn to face the woods in the direction you'd come from instead of Springvale. You reached your quickly-numbing arms up and cupped your hands around your mouth, forming your lips into an "o" shape, and, well, swallowed your pride. You didn't have any better ideas. "Awooooo--" You tried to mimic the howls you'd heard so many times as accurately as you could manage, but it came out a bit strained and comical. You waited a moment, and, receiving no response, whimpered in your desperation and tried a second time. Your voice echoed throughout the trees. You weren't certain exactly how it worked, you were pretty certain they had different tones they used, some for aggression, some as a cry of distress, but you weren't capable of telling them apart. You could only hope for the best. It wasn't really as if they could help you, but at the very least, they would probably go find Razor for you. They'd done so before, after another humiliating failure when you'd fallen into a hole in the earth during a past attempt. You'd learned they were far more intelligent than you once thought, and they understood things like that, at least. But gods, did this make you feel dumb. Your face heated with embarrassment with each attempt. You inhaled to try a third time, but as you did, a shrill howl pierced the air from a distance. A response. Your heartrate picked up as a little spark of relief and hope -- albeit dread that lurked in the back of your head -- made you shudder. You howled again, and received a second response. It carried on for a few minutes that way, sounding back and forth, and it sounded like the other was getting closer. Finally, you heard steps, and anticipation swelled in your chest. You were pretty sure that the response howls had been that of an actual wolf -- even you, in your time in these woods, had learned to tell the difference between Razor's vocalizations and that of the wolves. There were simply some aspects of the canid sounds that human vocal chords could only mimic, but not recreate to a perfect likeness, and thus his vocalizations were a bit distinct. Still, you could be wrong, or, even better, perhaps the footsteps coming close to you weren't an animal at all, but perhaps a different figure, maybe a hunter...? No, that was definitely a four-legged gait. That, too, was something you had learned to tell apart, a two-legged gait versus a four-legged one. It kind of came in handy when you were trying to to hide or run and needed to gauge exactly what was hunting you down. You craned your neck to the best of your ability in the direction of the sound. A creature emerged from the trees. You took a sharp breath. ...It was merely a very large, brownish-greyish wolf. It gazed up at you with big black eyes and ears perked up in alertness. You squinted. You'd never seen this wolf before. You were fairly certain of this much; during your time in the woods, you'd learned to distinguish between them pretty well. You learned the little differences -- this one was bigger, this one had a scratch on its ear, this one had a scar on its hip, this one was more brown and this one was more grey, and so on it went. This one was different from all the wolves you'd become familiar with. The wolf sat down, tilting its head at you, tongue lolling out as it panted. It was huge, muscular looking. "Help," you whimpered. As aware as you were that it obviously did not understand, you couldn't think of anything else to do. You flailed a bit in your desperation, and pointed towards the spot where the rope was tied to the tree. "Help me... Come on, please..." The wolf actually followed the line of your pointing, eyes settling on the base of the trap. And, miraculously, moved towards it. Your heart pounded. Did it actually understand? Would it help? It walked over and bit at the rope, shaking its head rapidly in the same way you'd witnessed the wolves kill small prey, or how dogs played with toys. It was helping! You shuddered again, hope burning in your chest, and a tear of relief dripping from your eyes upside-down to the ground below. And if this wolf wasn't from the pack, it wouldn't take you back, right? How, you weren't certain, but the other wolves seemed to understand the... arrangement going on. Many of your escape attempts had been thwarted not by your captor himself, but by the pack -- surrounding you in a circle, barking and growling and snapping at you until you were forced to turn back, even tackling you as you ran, biting your clothes and arms to drag you back. But this wolf would let you go, right? .... Wait a second. Cold dread suddenly made your stomach lurch. This wolf had no reason to help you, and no reason to drag you back. It had every reason to see you as easy prey. Any relief or hope you'd felt was immediately replaced with a chilling rush of panic. Yes, you would be easy prey, right there for the taking. You thrashed about, trying again to reach up and loosen the knot on your foot, but failing. Fuck. You were trapped between two unpleasant options. There was a chance the wolf was just helping, but in the end, it was an animal, not a person, with instincts of goodwill or benevolence. It would follow its instincts. Once you hit the ground, you'd have to run. That was the only solution. But... it also occurred to you only then that you were hanging a good fifteen feet or so in the air. Upside down. What if the fall knocked you out? Hell, what if it broke your legs? What if it broke your spine? If it were Razor himself, he'd lower you down slowly, but the wolf lacked the sense  or ability to do so. You'd just drop. Fuck, fuck, fuck. There was a thick coating of leaves on the ground, which would hopefully help, and this part of the forest had soft, clay-like ground rather than hard rock, but nonetheless, it was a long drop. Dammit! Your body wracked with a sob of frustration, anger, and panic. Why did all of this have to happen to you? You'd asked yourself that that plenty of times. You didn't do anything to deserve-- There was a snapping sound. You shrieked as gravity immediately sent you crashing down, world spinning around you, and you collided with the earth with crash that took the breath from your lungs; the sound flooded your ears, echoed as your head went numb. You landed directly on your back, eyes looking up at the trees and the sky beyond then as the world spun around you and your vision darkened. Pain ran through your body on impact, a rough, blunt sort of pain that ached through your flesh and meat and bones. You groaned in pain, teeth clenched as it flooded your senses, trembling as it slowly began to ebb away after the initial blow. The wolf's face popping into your vision sent you jolting back to awareness. It was startling, it's cold wet nose pressing against your own, and after a moment, it lapped its tongue against your face. Panic seized your entire body, and you were frozen, unable to move, not even breathing, eyes wide in terror. And then it licked you again, letting out a soft, tender whine. It was being friendly. You let out a shuddering sigh as relief washed over you again, and you thanked whatever god was looking out for you for granting you your life. "Th-thank you," you murmured, reaching a trembling hand up to pat the wolf's head, wincing at the soreness in your arm. It whined again, bumping its head against yours. Wolves were far, far larger than you were certain most people realized. Back home, you'd always thought that the howls you heard at night from within the safety of Mondstadt's walls were from creatures no bigger than the large hunting dogs you'd seen in Springvale. In reality, that was not the case. Even the smallest of the wolves were massive in comparison to those dogs, their heads easily twice the size of your own. You'd been utterly terrified of them in the beginning, bursting into frightened tears whenever one made its way over to sniff you in their curiosity, or dump an offering of a small creature's carcass at your feet in a show of friendliness (an unsettling experience, no matter how many time you were told it's good, 'cause they like (y/n)), or lick your face in an attempt to show affection. You'd grown used to it with time. But this wolf was even larger than the majority you'd seen, easily thrice your size in every capacity. Likely a loner separated from its pack. You were aware there were sometimes conflicts between the larger, stronger pack males that ultimately ended in the loser leaving the pack and heading off on its own, although it seemed nearly incomprehensible that a wolf of this size would lose to anything. Had it chosen the route of violence, you wouldn't have stood a chance. You laid there for a moment, head spinning as you took deep, shaky breaths, trying to calm yourself down and regain your sense of control over your body. You curled your fingers and toes, flexed the muscles in your arms and legs. You were a bit scraped up and your entire body still ached from the impact, but miraculously, nothing seemed broken. You closed your eyes, feeling the cool evening breeze and the wet tongue that was repeatedly lapping at your face. Finally, after a moment, with a groan at the ache in your body, you pushed yourself upward with your elbows, flipping over to your hands and knees, pulling your leg forward to stand-- The breath was knocked out of you yet again as a massive weight crashed down onto your body. You clawed at the ground, gasping to regain oxygen, body going tense. "Wh-what-" The creature let his bodyweight fall down on your frame, and you grunted as your upper half slammed into the ground. It rendered you entirely immobile, this wolf was both massive and heavy, you could barely breathe under the sheer mass of its body. You struggled to push yourself back up onto your elbows. "H-hey, what are you--" With a whine, it rutted its hips forward. Oh, fuck. "N-no!" You tried to rear up, pushing your upper half upward on your elbows as hard as you could, to no avail. Its weight was crushing. "B-bad! Bad dog! Stop!" You clawed at the dirt, gasping as it thrust again. "Get off!" It only let out the same high, throaty whine, thrusting its hips several times in quick succession, humping your ass with desperation. You could feel its blunt-ended cock digging into the flesh, making your blood run cold. When it rutted forward, the motion hiked your ragged little dress up, bunching up the fabric and exposing your cunt. You whimpered with fear, desperately trying to drag yourself forward. "Stop, stop, get off!" You thrashed again, achieving nothing by the action. The worst part, the dread that was quickly overtaking your thoughts, was that you knew it was futile. You'd learned a long time ago that your resistance would mean nothing, not by the brutal laws of the world outside of the fragile sense of safety human society provided. It was expected. It happened among the wolves themselves all the time -- the mates were not something that were chosen in the same way humans did. Too many times you'd witnessed the ritual -- the males would fight, snarling and growling and lunging at each other until one would give up and run scurrying away, tail tucked between its legs. Growing up with all the knowledge you'd learned from books and what humans generally observed of the animals, you'd always assumed that from that point, the she-wolves would then gladly and willingly copulate with the victor, but, you'd quickly learned, that was not the case. It had shocked you the first few times, your eyes widening and your mouth dropping open as you witnessed the poor females get tackled, mounted, their whimpers as teeth sank into their shoulders and kept them in place. It was brutal, and yet, you'd come to understand and accept it was simply the way things were. Perhaps the part that had shocked you the most was how accepted it was -- the other wolves would simply look on, adjusted to what was normal among them, and the brutalized female would, from that point on, act as a normal mate to what more or less was originally her assailant -- licking and grooming each other, sleeping next to one another, spending time with each other, all as if such a thing made sense. Given the acceptant, compliant state you sometimes found yourself slipping into, you supposed you weren't too different in that way. Because they're strong, you'd been told. Beating the other male and forcibly mating the female herself signified strength. They were supposed to try to run and fight, and the male was supposed to forcibly overpower them, a display of strength, of suitableness as a partner. That was why fighting back didn't matter -- it was supposed to be that way, in the minds of the animals, and thus they were content with that setup. The present moment was anything but content. Another rut of the wolf's hips brought you snapping out of your brief thought, back to the moment at hand. The forest was quiet aside from your own struggling, the last rays of light were fading from the sky, the moon hanging high in place of their light. You let out a shrill, squeaking cry, thrashing with renewed effort, but, predictably, not even budging. "Get off! Get off me! Stop it, bad dog!" No matter how you tried, you couldn't move your body in the slightest, perfectly pinned still. "Fuck..." It let out another whine, not even seeming to notice your struggles, grasping at your shoulder with its teeth, and you feared that if it bit down, it might shatter your shoulder. It rutted forward, and this time you froze, entire body going tense as the blunt head of its cock pressed firmly against your exposed slit. You finally managed to claw at the leaf-covered ground enough to pull yourself forward, if but just an inch -- and the wolf, snarling, thrust its own body forward to push you back into the same position. One of its front paws reached forward and clawed onto your shoulder, and you squealed as it pulled you back, forming a tiny cut in the flesh of your jugular. Your began to nearly hyperventilate, trembling, breaths shallow and quick. "S-stop..." Your plea was defeatedly quiet, realizing that further protest would only hurt you. Tears gathered in your eyes. Your back was bent at an angle under the sheer weight of the furry mass that kept you pinned, and it felt like your very lungs were crushed, breathing quickly becoming difficult. You began to feel your body tingling with numbness. It was so heavy and difficult to breathe you weren't certain you'd even survive if it fucked you. Panic seized your brain, overriding any coherent thought. There was a snarling, growling sort of noise that cut through the surrounding stillness. It wasn't coming from the creature mounted on your body. It didn't sound canid. It was human. Much like the howls, you had learned, with time, how to distinguish between the real and the imitation, those sounds that, no matter how long of a lifetime of practice one had, could simply not match the vocals of another species. The wolf stopped its motions, turning its head, and likewise immediately transitioned its entire demeanor, tensing up and returning the sound, a low snarl, baring its teeth as its snout wrinkled up. It dismounted your body and lowered itself to the ground, hips and shoulders raised as its core sank low, a preparatory stance ready to lunge. You fell forward, face crashing into the leaves, before scrambling upwards and falling back on your ass, propped up with your hands behind you and your knees bent as you froze, unable to move a muscle, eyes open wide and gasping for breath as air burned in your lungs. You could see red-orange eyes glaring in the moonlight from a short distance, and for once, the face of the wolf-boy made a wave of relief come crashing down, rather than panic at being found. He made another low sound in his throat, a snarling growl. His shoulders hunched up in a similar motion to the wolf, baring his teeth, glare locked on the transgressor. He didn't have a weapon on him, so his hands clenched into fists at his side. You'd witnessed this plenty of times in the past by now, but never before with him as one of the participants. The other male wolves within the pack hadn't exactly taken an interest in you, rather, simultaneously accepted you as one of their own, while seeming to recognize you as something of an "other," as they did him. Among them, though, these conflicts were regularly occurring, a constantly shifting hierarchal dynamic that was weighted in blood and pure brute strength. Your heartrate picked up anew. Strong as Razor may be, this thing was massive. And he didn't have his claymore, you remembered he'd left it near the den earlier, before going on his daily routine to check the various animal traps. This wolf could kill him. And given that it wasn't a pack member, it wouldn't hesitate to do so. The wolf took a few heavy steps forward, growling all the while, and the wolf-boy reciprocated the action, a deep low growl in his throat as he stomped forward, fingers curling into a claw-like shape, not exhibiting so much as the slightest hesitation to show aggression against the massive creature. You tried to stand on your shaking legs, but fell on your ass again. "W-wait, no, r-run," you stammered, words spewing out of your mouth before you could process them, "he'll hurt you--" Your vision went white, bright light exploded all around, a crashing, booming sort of sound cutting off your words. There was a heat to it that you could feel on your skin, but it blinded your vision, leaving you blinking as, in a mere moment, the electric energy faded to a purplish glow that sparked with a buzz in the palm of his hand. The wolf leaped back in terrified shock, immediately flattening its ears, turning and tucking its tail between its legs, scrambling with fear into the darkness of the trees. And just like that, the threat was gone. You were left slack-jawed, mouth hanging open, trembling and panting as you watched it disappear, footsteps growing quieter and quieter until they could no longer be heard. Instead, the leaves to your side crunched in a two-legged pattern as the figure drew closer, and then dropped down to his knees to get on a face-to-face level. You turned your head and your eyes met. His eyes were wide and pupils blown even wider, mouth slightly open, looking you over. His eyes had always had a softness to them, full of light. After a moment, he reached up, slowly, and wiped the tears from your eyes, a soft, unthinking gesture, and leaned forward. He nuzzled his face against yours, and, after a moment, licked a few quick, short laps up the side of your face. It was nothing you weren't very well used to, and you merely sat numbly as he did so. His eyes trailed downward, widening as they met the gash that had been created on your neck by the massive wolf's claws, and he leaned forward again, lapping at your skin. You inhaled a sharp breath at the sting of his tongue on the wound, but you knew it actually was helpful in terms of clotting, so you didn't resist. You sat like that for a moment, silent, still, letting him clean up the wound, saliva naturally helping the healing process. It was bizarrely intimate in its own way, but it certainly wasn't the first time he'd helped in that way with a wound. It stopped stinging after a moment, blood clotting under the wet warmth. He pulled his head back, looking over you again as if to ascertain your unharmed state, eyes wide and expression flat, looking directly at your face - your weary face, trembling lip, expression still uneasy from the remaining shock. "You... Okay?" There was a softness to his face, a wide-eyed look of innocent concern. You did your best to nod. Any hope you'd had left had been crushed at some point in the adrenaline of the encounter, and thus, all chances of escaping gone, defeat and weariness washed over your body, and you slumped forward in exhaustion. Of course, he was unaware of and most likely did not even consider why you suddenly fell against him, he tended to take any action you made at face value and accepted it as simply what it was, and likewise, every action he made was easily interpreted the same way. It was, you sometimes consoled yourself, a rather welcome simplicity in contrast to the hidden and subtle meanings that humans often portrayed through their actions, and you never had to worry about an innocent action being misinterpreted maliciously, nor did you worry that your emotions were too transparent in your actions. Instead, he merely seemed pleased by the gesture, eagerly wrapping his arms around your frame and pulling your closer, rubbing his head up and down so the sides of your faces nuzzled together, squeezing you tightly. "I heard you," he said, a cheerful sort of pride in his voice. "Came to help." You swallowed. "Th-thank you..." As much as his sudden appearance crushed any chance you had of reaching Springvale, you couldn't help but feel a genuine relief, even gratitude, for saving you from what would have undoubted been a highly painful and traumatizing experience, if you'd survived the lack of oxygen. Not that you weren't already getting your fair share of traumatizing experiences out here, but, well, none quite like what your experience would have been had he not shown up. After a still, silent moment of embrace, he released you, shifted and stood up, but then suddenly tensed, and his eyes widened with what seemed like surprise, or perhaps realization, mouth opening slightly. His eyes were cast downward, settled on the cord that was still tightly tied around your ankle, and reached down to loosen the knot, slipping it off and tossing the remaining cord to the side. You made a small sound as if to start speaking, but cut off and fell silent, shutting your mouth. And then, as he came back up, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and processing, mouth slightly open as he looked a bit to one side, then the other, to you, and up to the tree from which you'd hung. The wheels were turning. Finally, after a moment, it seemed to click, his eyes went wide with realization for a split second before he turned his head back towards you and narrowed his eyes in a glare. His "angry" face had always been a bit difficult to take seriously, he had maintained a baby face despite his age, big eyes and soft features making it look like more of a pout than anything, but in time you'd learned the rightful amount of fear to have at seeing it. Your heart sank in your chest. "You ran away again." His voice was a bitter, grumpy mumble. You'd feared that when you noticed the surprising lack of anger up until a few moments ago. That it hadn't yet clicked with him, until now, exactly why you were out here, how you got out here, in the first place. He might have thought the larger wolf had dragged you out here, or, perhaps more likely, it had not crossed his mind at all in the intensity of the previous moments, too focused on conflict and comfort. "I..." You trailed off, trembling. There was a moment of silence. You couldn't exactly argue against it. It was true that he was rather gullible, and would often believe rather ridiculous excuses or explanations that anyone else would never buy, but there were limits to that, and at the present moment, you couldn't think of any excuse that even he would believe. Even if the wolf had come in to drag you away, the she-wolf set to guard you would have made a noise to alert the others, and he knew that. There was a moment of silence, and, not receiving any objection to his claim, he exhaled a frustrated huff through his nostrils. "I'm mad." As nice as it was that you didn't have to worry about being misinterpreted, another pro to your situation was that your captor was easily the most transparent person you'd ever met, bluntly honest, so much so it sometimes worked against him. You were pretty sure he couldn't be indirect or subtle with his words if he tried. Passive-aggressiveness or anything of the sort was foreign. "I'm sorry," you murmured, hoping to ease his anger, but you knew by now those words didn't really hold any meaning to him. He opened his mouth, that same pout on his face, and took a breath as if to speak, but no words came out. He closed his mouth, looking at the ground for a moment, opened again, repeated the process, and again, before roughly shaking his head, head hanging and expression falling to something like irritation and disappointment. With other people, you'd feel more intimidated by silence, silence meant someone was angry and trying to get under your skin. And while he made no attempt to hide being angry, you knew the silence wasn't an intentional passive-aggressive act, but rather, just lacking the proper words. It was a process you went through frequently, and to some degree, you felt bad for him. Having feelings, having complex thoughts, but lacking the knowledge or ability to articulate them, being unable to adequately express what you thought and felt, limited to such simple terms as sad and mad, words that could only convey incredibly simple feelings... you could only imagine how frustrating that would be. He knew that those words weren't enough, but didn't have any other ones to use. You understood why, then, he grunted in frustration, kicking at the ground, sending a few leaves scattering. But you also knew that if he could not express himself with words, actions would have to suffice. You knew better than to expect any different. This routine, despite its variances in the specifics of how the events went down, went like clockwork from this point onward, the moment of defeat. They say humans are, after all, creatures of habit. You nonetheless let out a little surprised sound at the suddenness with which you were lifted by the armpits, quickly moved a few steps to the side and unceremoniously pushed forward, facing one of the many boulders that dotted the forest floor. Instinctively, releasing an exhale of defeat and acceptance, braced yourself against it, hands pressed into the rock. You were technically standing, but leaning far forward, bodyweight resting mostly onto the rock you were bending over on. His front pressed against you, hand pushing your back down into an arch, latching arms around your waist. There was no hesitation, no preparation, merely pulling the fabric of your dress up with one swift motion, and the waist of his pants down in another, all in a matter of a single moment, and rutting against you, once, twice, cock slipping against your folds, and on the third thrust, it actually slid in, pushing about halfway in with harsh force with no warning. You gasped at the sting, clawing at the rock as your face twisted with the slight pain, but his hand gripped hard on your shoulder. "Stay... Still." It was honestly impressive, you sometimes thought, to manage to get a cock inside you so easily with hip angling alone. He'd never thought to use his hands to do so, you guessed due to merely mimicking what he observed, as all humans did. Nonetheless, you let out a mewl at the feeling of friction against your walls as it dragged, pulling out a bit before slamming back in. Then again, faster. And again, faster still. And finally, setting into a rhythm, quick and harsh, your body lurching forward at the force. Defeat and despond had fully set in, and you made no movement to fight back, instead attempting to ease the discomfort by pushing back with the thrusts. And then, after a moment, it stopped. It often did -- again, a set pattern, a routine. Increasingly often these days, he changed his mind at this point, initially going with the instinctive, natural option, but it would take a moment to remember that there was an alternative. You shuddered at the sliding feeling and emptiness as he pulled back out, but even though you braced yourself, the air was knocked out of you as you were flipped over, back hitting the rock -- and this time aching as the bruising flesh from the earlier fall was hit again -- now leaning your weight onto the rock on your back, facing forward. The roughness with which you were tossed about and maneuvered was, you knew, not intentional, nor out of malice, but it always left you disoriented as your vision spun a bit. And it was only a single second before you were filled again, gasping a deep breath and reaching your hands out to claw at his back as you felt yourself stretched apart all in one motion, and your legs fell into the routine position of hooking over his arms. He liked it this way. The human way, he called it, with you on your back in some form rather than on your hands and knees, facing him rather than turning away, which had been the only way you'd done it -- you supposed the only way he had been familiar with -- for a good while. You'd introduced the position once when your arms and legs were exhausted from strain, and, perhaps to your relief, it became the most common way that the routine went down. You supposed that, deep down, no matter the way in which a person was raised, there were certain innate needs and instincts that could not be overridden, woven into the very biology of a person. For humans, intimacy, the feeling of affection, and you supposed that that itch was met for him more adequately this way. And he liked to mimic normal behaviors in that regard. You recalled a time ago, back before you were brought out here for good, the wide-eyed fascination with which he'd watch passing couples of people on the road and streets, would make an attempt to imitate the same actions, albeit lacking in the same gentleness, technique, or appropriate timing. Reaching out to grab and hold your hand (with a crushing grip) as you walked, awkwardly pressing your mouths together (so firmly that your teeth clacked and your jaw hurt). That, at least, had gotten better. Now, it was somewhat gentle, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours. Gentle, but still very awkward, lacking in the rhythmic motions with which you'd expect, more like holding still but pressing firmly against you, but lapping a quick lick to your lips. You could taste blood on his lips and tongue, a permanent coppery taste that never went away. That didn't last long. It was hard to maintain the mouth contact when he started rutting into you, causing your body to rock in jerking motions up and down on the surface, and his face buried itself into your shoulder, panting shallow breaths that were warm against your flesh. And again, like clockwork, you knew how the issue of your body rocking back and forth, disrupting the rhythm, would be solved, and you inhaled as you braced yourself, first for the tightening grip of arms around your waist, and then-- You gasped a sharp breath despite your mental preparation as teeth sunk into your jugular, opposite the one with the injury, further locking your bodies together. He growled, a low throaty sound. Teeth gnawed at your shoulder before releasing and sinking down in a different spot, digging into the flesh just short of the force it would take to break it. You cursed whichever god thought it would be funny to give him abnormally sharp canines. Even with your weight leaning against the rock, a good portion of it was still being supported by his arms, which, with any normal human being, you would hope would cause enough strain to perhaps slow down the actual thrusting, but you knew better by now. Nor did you expect any kind of buildup or anything, no, you gritted your teeth at the immediate fast pace that dragged against your insides, raw and with little fluid to lessen the friction. The quickness and suddenness always left you sore, your internal parts not having enough time or stimulation to expand or prepare, so each thrust that slammed into the top of your insides sparked a shock of pain and pleasure sensation so strong your entire body jolted with the feeling. The bruising soreness of the recent abuse to the same spot -- how many times earlier today, three, four? -- heightened the sensitivity. And, as with the rest of the routine, you didn't expect words. You couldn't blame him -- talking was hard enough when he was focused, you imagined it was much harder when preoccupied with sensation, and with less blood in the brain. It also made sense that he didn't seem to process anything you said either -- any slow down or wait fell on deaf ears, or rather, non-comprehending ears. Eventually you, too, fell into the same state- "I-- hah, ah, w-wait, mnn-" -- unable to form words, unable to take in anything around you, pure sensation clouding your brain of any and all thoughts. You heard your own little cries ring out and echo through the empty forest, and soft, pleasured whines in your ear, hot breath from panting that grew faster and faster as the thrusts became more erratic and harder, slamming in and out, the wet, slapping sound ringing out with your own voice. It pushed against all the right spots, stretching you incomprehensibly full, overloading your brain with the feeling, and the harder your nails sank into his back, the harder his teeth bit down into your neck. The sparks of pain from the feeling felt small, distant, erased by the overwhelming good feeling created by adrenaline and pleasure, and the thought of how badly it would hurt later was the furthest thing from your mind in the moment. And because you knew words meant nothing in the heat of these moments, you had learned that announcing or warning for orgasm didn't matter. Neither of you needed words -- as with many things, you could communicate it without them just fine. He could still sense it, the way you clenched and your hands grasped at his hair and raked down his spine, and in response, the thrusting somehow grew harder and faster still. A perfect and clearly understood communication as clear as any verbal exchange. The squealing you made, the way your body spasmed and your back arched, was better than anything you could have said, really. You weren't... actually fully certain he understood the action as anything other than communication, like a message indicating "cum now." You assumed that was what it meant to him, since, as always, you felt the movement stop, panting as he pushed into your one more time, holding your hips as close as possible as you felt a twitching inside. It was always perfectly coordinated like that. The peak was always too short, always that same burst of feeling that you wished could last just a moment longer, leaving you panting. Heavy breaths in and out, shuddering, sweaty flesh clinging to each other. You could feel the arms that held your legs up shaking with aftershock, forehead falling to rest against the spot between the mounds of your chest. Then, after a moment, a nuzzle, slowly rubbing a cheek against your collarbones. As soon as that stopped, his head popped up again, looking up at your face with those same wide amber eyes, soft and somehow, despite everything, they always seemed so innocent and bright. A curious, but fairly neutral, content sort of wide-eyed gaze. Anger resolved. Sometimes you were grateful it was that easy. "Ok. You're... good, now." You understood without needing it explained. "Good" indicated something along the lines of fixed or resolved, the phrase "you're good" indicating, in this context, resolution. You assumed it had originated from listening to others in some context or another. You swallowed, and nodded. There was no point in fighting now. A sort of numbing aftershock had set in, and your head was spinning so much that even if you ran, you might fall over on your own without the inevitable tackling. It was a struggle for another day... the same conclusion this always, always resulted in, a conclusion you reached more and more quickly each time, but you tried to put the concern that thought sparked away, merely standing on trembling legs. "...Stupid hunting trap," you muttered, giving the remains of cord a kick into the leaves. He tilted his head and made a soft hm? of confusion. "Th-the trap," your voice was raspy. "They laid out traps for - for catching animals, the hunters, you know." He blinked for a moment as he processed your words, then shook his head, but smiled, beaming with pride. "Mm-nn, I made it. Put lots of them around here." You squinted, head jerking up to scan the treeline - sure enough, now that you looked closer, you could see several treetops dotted with similar nets full of scraps set to make a sound when triggered and struggled against. In fact, the more you gazed around, you realized there were easily dozens and dozens of similar traps, some of different styles and shapes, all perfectly lining the edge of the woods before the road. "...You won't catch things like that," you muttered. "It's too close to the end of the woods." Another slightly confused stare. He shook his head. "Traps are... for you." You could always count on him for two things. Undying loyalty, and obtuse honesty. You blinked at him, expression flat in blunt surprise, then, with a crooked smile, you let out a single huff of bitter, tired laughter. You were numbed to the point that you were, at the very least, able to recognize the humor of it all. Another way of coping, perhaps. It only occurred to you then, as your thoughts cleared, how relief had washed over you when the lone wolf had run out into the night, but your mind had not been focused on your own violation. You remembered your words. Run, he'll hurt you. Your only concern in that moment had been his safety. The thought set off some sort of alarm bell in your head, but the utter exhaustion made it difficult to place much concern in anything.

Your legs were trembling in aftershock, numb and heavy, but it wasn't as if that mattered. Even as you briefly put a hand to the stone beside you to lean your weight onto in an effort to stand, you knew you wouldn't be walking anyway, that wasn't part of the routine. And sure enough, as you got about halfway upward, arms wrapped around your waist instead, and you were roughly maneuvered, tossed like a ragdoll, knocking the breath out of you as you were tossed over his shoulder. "Okay, we're going home, now." He started taking a few heavy steps forward, not even struggling in the slightest to carry your full bodyweight, instead walking as if you were light as air. You didn't protest. You slumped over defeatedly, merely casting your gaze all around, trying desperately to memorize the locations of at least a few of the traps in the dark, but knowing full well in the back of your mind you'd never get past them all. No matter how you may outsmart them, you could never win. It occurred to you that, in a way, you were the one falling for the same trick over and over, continuously placing a ridiculous hope in escape and falling for your own foolishness time and time again. Perhaps that made you a bit more like the animals than you liked to admit.

[loveofafangirl]

A Different Path

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

Baron Zemo & OFC

*No pairing in this fic, however, this is a prequel to Reader A stories. The events here help Zemo do The Right Thing which starts Reader A’s relationship with him.

Synopsis: Zemo had always justified his actions as a means to an end. He never regretted for a moment what he did to make the Avengers feel the pain he suffered, that is, until he learns about the unintended cost of his actions.

*Set during The Falcon and the Winter Soldier around episode 4/5*

*Hurt, no comfort * Angst *

Rating/Content Warning: Teen: mild language, mentions of adult and child deaths, bombing the UN, miscarriage (no graphic descriptions)

Word Count: ~1,500

Talk of their movements spread quickly. Her body tensed at the news. Nothing good ever happened with the Avengers being nearby. Even if they weren't in her country, she wanted no part of them. She tried walking past the people discussing them on the street until she heard his name. Her stomach dropped, and her breath caught in her throat. The color drained from her face, and her fists clenched as memories flooded back. She reached for the side of the building for support. He was supposed to be in prison.

"Are you alright?" Someone questioned, hurrying to her.

She swallowed hard, looking down. "I'm okay." She waved off their concern, though silent tears slid down her cheeks.

There wasn't a day when she hadn't thought about that afternoon. Her ears still rang, and she could feel the heat of the explosion. It was the day that changed everything—the day that had taken everything from her.

Waves of sorrow, pain, fear, and anger crashed over her the more she thought about it. He couldn't be allowed to walk free, not after what he had done, not after what she had lost.

She played with the gold chain around her neck, slowly turning her husband's wedding ring in contemplation. They had only been married a year, but they were supposed to have forever. It all felt like yesterday. She closed her eyes and listened for his voice.

The memory of his lips brushing over hers as joy-filled tears covered their faces that morning elicited a fractured smile. It was supposed to be a day of celebration, a day just the three of them. She tried to hold on to that moment before it all went wrong, but it fluttered away, leaving only the pain he had left her with.

The following day was a blur. The next thing she knew, she was in the car heading to Latvia. Her gaze shifted to her purse. The weight of her decision pressed down on her as a sliver of the dark metal grip peaked out. She tucked it deeper away. She still had many miles to go.

The trip seemed longer—like a lifetime had passed as she rehearsed her plan over and over. Her vision darkened as she recalled that fateful day and the memories of all she had lost. Nothing could ever bring them back. Nothing would ever fill the void left by his actions.

Forward, she thought to herself. Every day, she reminded herself to keep moving forward, yet the past always seemed to follow.

It wasn't difficult finding them. They were the talk of the town, so their movements were easy to track; getting him alone, on the other hand, took patience. She followed them, waiting for her moment.

As his two companions argued mindlessly in front of him, she made her way closer. As they passed a small alleyway, she stumbled forward, bumping into him and knocking them both off the street. Her hand was already on the gun before Zemo had time to react. The cold barrel of her weapon was trained on him, begging him to move.

He held his hands up defensively and took a step back. He had made so many enemies he couldn't be sure what she wanted. He watched the slight tremble in her hand, realizing he could disarm her with little effort, but he was curious as to what she wanted. "Perhaps we can come to an understanding?"

Her darkened eyes bared down on him. She swallowed hard, her finger on the trigger. This was the moment she had waited for. She studied him carefully. He didn't look like the monster she had created in her head. He was just a man. He was human, but she knew that was enough. Humanity had the capacity to be the greatest monsters of all.

"I was there that day—in Vienna." Her voice wavered as she continued, "that day seven years ago, outside the U.N."

His face fell somberly in understanding. "It was a means to an end." He offered, his head tilting as he shrugged. "The Super Soldier program had to be ended before more lives were lost. The loss is regrettable, but it was for the greater good."

"That's absolute bullshit," she scoffed, stepping forward, her gun hovering in front of his face. "You blame Super Soldiers and the Avengers for what you lost, but you are no better. No fancy weaponized suit. No serum. No gods, aliens, magic, or whatever else there are these days. It was just you. You took the lives of innocent people without prejudice. They have their blame, but you did the exact same thing to me. I lost my husband."

"My sincerest apologies." His genuine tone surprised her. "I am sorry. I regret the twelve lives lost; however, more were lost in the Battle of Sokovia, and many more would be at risk had the Winter Soldier program been allowed to continue."

"Thirteen."

"What?"

"There were thirteen deaths that day."

His head quirked to the side, not understanding. The news had always reported twelve, and he knew each one of them by name.

"I lost—" Tears fell as she tried to find the words. One hand left the gun and ghosted over her stomach. She couldn't bring herself to touch it. Her whole body trembled as a burning fire rushed through her. "I lost everything." Her voice broke as memories of that moment crashed over her again. The only reason they had even been in Vienna was for her check-up and to find out what they were having. "She would have been our first. We had just decided on her name moments before—Alina."

His eyes closed as he nodded in understanding at the depth of her loss. He had waited to make sure there were no children. He had timed it for when the street was the least crowded. He didn't enjoy taking the lives of innocents, but he needed the Winter Soldier. That was the only way. He tried to remember that day. If he had seen her, he never would have pressed the detonator. Nothing was worth the death of a child. When he opened his eyes again, he cradled her quivering hands around the gun’s grip. "Go ahead. It's okay."

Her lips pressed together, and her head shook to the sides, trying to reconcile what she was about to do. Her pulse raced in her head as the ringing from the explosion returned. She focused her breathing. She had come too far to stop now.

"I understand what you must do. I hold no resentment for it. If I could have had swift judgment like this I would—"

"I'm not you," she cut him off sharply. Her face etched with pain, but her eyes somewhat lighter, having shared her grief.

Zemo's brow turned in as he looked at her curiously.

"I can't hold on to this hate any longer. I won't let vengeance consume me. I won't become what you are."

He exhaled noisily through his pursed lips, his eyes closing, not with relief but disappointment. At least in death, he would be with his family, and that was the only thing he had ever truly wanted.

"I forgive you." It took all her strength, but she said the three words she had practiced during the sixteen-hour drive there. She had never intended to harm him; she just needed his attention. She had carried the burden long enough, and it was time to let it go.  

"Why?" He questioned softly; his eyes misted over.

"I am choosing a different path. Your death will not bring my family back. It won't bring me peace. It is something I will always have to live with, and now, you will too."

He leaned into the gun that she still held in her now steady hands. "Please."

"No. This is life. We don't always get what we want. We don't get to choose how our story ends, or when. We live with the pain and the heartbreak. We go on in spite of it. We move forward. All we can do is try and do better...so, do better. Don't waste this."

She breathed deeply, the pressure in her head subsiding. The gun felt lighter as she tucked it back into her bag. She turned away, tears streaming as she held her stomach, finally able to truly grieve the loss of Alina without the haze of bitterness and vengeance clouding it. She looked back once more to him. He seemed smaller somehow. She wasn't sure why she had ever been afraid of him. "Do better," she reminded him and hurried on her way.

He blinked back the tears in his eyes as thoughts of being reunited with Carl and his wife abandoned him, leaving him alone once more. He pulled out a small black notebook, turning to the page about that day, and added her name to the list of the lost. He wouldn't forget her; she would live on, even in death. Her loss was the heaviest on his long list. He sketched a cross next to her name and whispered a silent prayer, although he would never forgive himself. "Alina," his thumb traced her name as her mother's words echoed in his head. "Do better."

[phantompearlsalt]

Sour Cherry, Chapter 10

My sincerest apologies for the delay on this one folks! As you know, things have been a bit challenging but we’re chugging along and I can finally give you the hurt/comfort & more soft!Kuvira we’ve been craving. Thank you to the anon who requested this — it was so interesting to write a first, major fight between Reader and Kuvira. Like always, feel free to check it out on AO3 as well. Thank you for your continued support everyone — I promise I’ll get to your replies / more asks tomorrow 💖

This time something is different. You ponder the word fractured: the act or process of breaking or the state of being broken. Devastated: emotionally shattered or distraught. Empty: lacking reality, substance, meaning, or value. The words dance across your thoughts in an almost insulting manner. None of them mean anything right now.

None of them are enough.

You watch the brilliant orange hues of dusk bleed into your room and recall how lovely they appeared when they bathed the otherwise sterile furnishings of the quarters you normally share with Kuvira.

This time, however, when the rays filter through your window and fill the chamber with vivid golden light, you cannot detect any change in your demeanor. The refreshing glow does little to alleviate the harrowing emptiness that consumes your chest. Over the course of the week, you have grown relatively numb to it but when you pay close attention, it becomes harder to breathe.

Right now, you find yourself choking on each minute inhalation.

You haven’t slept alone in months, not since Kuvira formally converted her room into your shared quarters soon after making your relationship public knowledge. Your fingertips have memorized the smoothness of her naked back, the delicate arch of her lips that part when she sleeps, the ridges of her spine, her collarbones, her elbows. Your lips know exactly when to kiss her bare shoulder just as she starts to stir awake because even when she feels the warmth of your body near hers, she likes to know you are still there.

For the past six days, you have fallen asleep to the excruciating silence of isolation. When you awaken, it is to the pitiful sight of poorly stationed furniture against cold grey walls.

You have returned to your old room because for the first time since meeting her, the thought of being near Kuvira in any capacity hurts more than it brings joy.

It would be foolish to say you never expected to argue with Kuvira. It’s inevitable. Though you know her mind like the back of your hand, there have already been numerous occasions when your personalities clashed and the resulting tension produced a short period of mutual silence.

Nevertheless, the pattern is generally the same: you both express your anger, you seethe for a day or two, you acknowledge it, and you move forward. Sometimes it doesn’t feel that simple but at the end of the day it usually is. You haven’t argued over anything major so there is no reason to believe you would fall out of this sequence.

As you move away from the window and tuck your feet into the frigid bedsheets of your tiny mattress, alone in your bedroom for the sixth night in a row, you struggle to suppress the ache that throbs inside your ribcage.

---

“Kuvira, we are losing traction in the southeast,” Commander Guan declares. Knowing better than to raise his voice before her, the statement is delivered with little emotion but there is a distinct quality of distress to it.

“If we do not exercise a greater degree of force, we will lose what tenuous control we have and we’ll be back at square one. You have the resources to escalate and now is not the time to second guess any more,” he continues.

You record your notes wordlessly, gazing across the room at the other commanders and sergeants. Across the table, Commander Zhen nods along to each of Guan’s words. Bolin is pursing his lips but slowly nods every other second. To Kuvira’s right, Baatar watches Guan intently with his fingers steepled at his chin before nodding in assent.

“Commander Guan is right, Kuvira,” he responds. “Governor Hongshen was a major boost to our reunification efforts but his influence can only go so far. We need to act soon in the south before we start regressing and losing the trust of the world leaders.”

Kuvira’s face carries that same characteristic aloofness but as the conversation unfolds, her expression gradually grows troubled. Commander Zhen jumps in soon after Baatar and though Kuvira angles her body to face the woman more directly, you notice her gaze shift towards you.

You look back and hope you convey the sense of concern brewing in your gut but she looks away before you are convinced it works.

---

The next morning you prepare for the day slowly, dragging out the time it takes to complete your morning routine and slip into your uniform. You look over at your bedside clock wearily, knowing that everyone is probably still wrapping up breakfast before heading to the morning assembly. You have managed to avoid the meetings for the past few days but it’s no longer feasible.

You take advantage of the remaining minutes to obscure any lingering evidence of your restless night. Looking into your tabletop mirror, you let your finger drag over the somber dark circles that frame your eyes. A humorless laugh erupts from your mouth as you knock the mirror down where it eventually collapses to the ground. By some miracle it doesn’t shatter but there’s a ferocious hunger that wishes it had.

You are very nearly tempted to crush the glass beneath your boot but you are halted by the realization that it’s time to walk over to the meeting chamber. The relief is only temporary when you are met with the understanding that you must face Kuvira in person again.

The walk to the hall is brief and you happen to find Varrick and Zhu Li along the way. As one would anticipate, Varrick shouts your name and launches into some mindless chatter about his latest developments on a weapon he’s building for Kuvira. Zhu Li remains impassive, only nodding when needed, and though you would normally find the conversation bothersome you are somewhat grateful to have other people to enter the room with. It helps to assuage the encroaching anxiety squirming into every part of you.

When you arrive, Kuvira is already there with Baatar. The sight of them together when you have been apart from her for so long instantly incites a white-hot fury that envelops your thoughts and extinguishes whatever distress you felt seconds ago. But it doesn’t last long.

Upon hearing Varrick’s voice, Kuvira looks up from her conversation to welcome him and Zhu Li. She pointedly avoids looking in your direction. While you are fully cognizant of how worn out you must appear, you are stunned to see Kuvira still looks completely unaffected by the week’s events. The ire you felt moments ago is quickly superseded with crushing disappointment.

Perhaps it’s best she doesn’t look at you as you dread the thought of her seeing you so openly debilitated.

The meeting transpires uneventfully. You are only addressed by the other commanders and Kuvira doesn’t look at you once, even on the few occasions when you speak. No one seems to catch onto the cold air between you both or if they do, they are very good at disregarding it.

When Kuvira adjourns the assembly, you are quick to gather your belongings. Being so close but unable to really look at her produces an anguish that is nearly physical but you still find yourself pausing. You look up from your papers, gazing to the head of the table where Kuvira silently observes the map of the present Earth Kingdom.

A profound need to approach her and satisfy your craving to be seen and touched by your lover overwhelms you. As far as you’re aware, you are still technically together but with the way things are going, you can’t help but question how long that will last.

You inhale quickly and deeply, sliding your foot across the floor just enough to put you an inch closer to her. Within the blink of an eye, Kuvira turns on her heel and joins Commanders Guan and Zhen as they make their way towards the hallway, leaving you alone in the room. As she leaves, you only catch a blurry glimpse of her profile before her footsteps eventually retreat into the distance.

Your eyes can’t move away from the area where she stood moments ago, and though your mind tells you to leave, to ignore the way your palm suddenly twinges with the absence of Kuvira’s touch, a hot stream of moisture cascades down your cheek instead.

---

Evening falls with a palpable feeling of tension. Though you follow your routines as usual, and even press Kuvira tight against your chest before you yield to the temptation of sleep, there is an uncomfortable feeling that heightens with each passing minute.

“You’ve been pretty quiet since this morning,” you note, dancing your fingers through Kuvira’s hair in that manner she’s grown quite fond of. It calms her down when she’s distressed and you have an inkling she could use that comfort right now. Tonight she stays still, her hard breathing the only indication that she’s still awake.

“I know it’s not my place to say but...I think it would be best to take some time to think about Guan’s proposal,” you continue. That instantly provokes a reaction from Kuvira, who carefully pulls away from your hand and stares at you coldly. “Why is that? You’re aware of what’s on the line if we respond ineffectively, right?” she counters.

You sigh and push yourself onto your elbows. “Of course I know, Kuvira,” you remind her. “I’m not doubting the potential consequences but I’m also not going to ignore the potential fallout if we respond too violently.” To this Kuvira’s eyes narrow and an air of displeasure flashes across her face but she makes no move to respond.

You sit in awkward silence for another five seconds before she pulls the bedsheets over her shoulders and turns away from you. Your heart seems to dip into your stomach and you restrain an exhausted sigh. Carefully pushing away the hair along the back of her neck, you lean forward to press a single kiss to the top of her spine before falling into the pillows and staring up at the ceiling.

---

When you bring your meal to your room, you wonder if anyone has bothered looking for you. You imagine Bolin and Commander Zhen have noticed your absence since they’re the only two people you’re closest to outside of Kuvira. Given that precedent, you realize they know better than to personally seek you out when you have displayed a desire to be alone but you can’t ignore the sting of feeling cast aside.

You set the food on a wobbly metal chair where it will inevitably be forgotten, instead gravitating towards your old wooden bureau and pulling open the empty drawers. The night you decided to spend time away from your shared quarters, you also decided you would leave most of your belongings behind. In the moment, you convinced yourself you wanted nothing in your space that would remind you of Kuvira.

But deep down in the most secluded crevices of your heart you know it’s your way of holding onto anything that could possibly connect you to her. You cannot realistically envision your life without Kuvira anymore and keeping your belongings in the room anchors you to the stubborn hope that you will still have a future after this. Even as it becomes less and less believable.

Despite this, there is one thing you could not bear to leave behind and you nestle it between your palms. It’s a small metal box that Kuvira constructed for you where you keep every letter she has composed in your name. Every scrap of paper and every elegant piece of parchment lays folded beneath the meticulously decorated metal cover and you pull out one of the letters she wrote you in the earlier days of your relationship.

Kuvira struggles to convey her emotions verbally and has thus opted to express them in written form. Your fingers skim over the words and you are met with the most ardent desire to vanish into the neat lines of ink and wrap yourself in the enchanting verses of Kuvira’s professions.

For a moment, you let yourself believe that wherever she is right now, this fond memory of not-so-long-ago is still fresh in Kuvira’s mind as well.

---

“Who are you to tell me what is best for my empire?” Kuvira demands. Her brow is knitted together in rage as she desperately grips the edge of your vanity. You wonder what she might have unleashed were it not for its grounding force.

You dig your fingers into your palms, wincing at the way your nails dig into the flesh, and sigh. The exasperation is getting to you and you’re afraid you will lose control over your words. You have never reached this point with her before. “I never said I knew better than you, Kuvira!” you bark back. “I just need you to understand that proceeding the way you plan will not end well for anybody.”

Kuvira sneers and her eyes darken further. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion on the matter. Your role is to obey my orders, regardless of the nature of our non-working relationship,” she hisses.

Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth and you’re starting to lose coordination of your limbs. “I don’t care if you didn’t ask for it. You know we can’t move forward like this. We’ve all heard the talk circulating about how you approach these negotiations. The Avatar may be gone for now but do you seriously want to jeopardize what we’ve worked so hard to build?”

“I won’t stand here and have you assume credit for an endeavor that has largely been my undertaking. You’ve carried out your role acceptably but don’t forget that you are my subordinate and I will continue to treat you as such. And I suggest you keep your unwanted judgements to yourself,” she counters.

“Don’t you understand? I just want what’s best for you,” you shout.

“I don’t need your help!” Kuvira bellows. “I’m not some defenseless child in need of your pity or your protection. Frankly, I could go about my work without you getting in the way.”

A thick silence swallows the room and you’re fairly certain your heart skips a beat. After the words have fallen from Kuvira’s mouth, you stare at her but can’t seem to make sense of the vision before you. It feels like you’re floating and sinking at the same time, as if some tremendous cosmic force were crushing your limbs but taking away the feeling before you can process it.

“Very well,” you respond quietly. “If that’s what you want...I won’t get in your way anymore.” You don’t wait to hear Kuvira’s response and walk to the wardrobe, hastily pulling out random articles of clothing and your small metal storage box before exiting without another word.

As you leave the room, clicking the door shut so as to deflect any unwanted attention, you are overcome with the desire to turn back. But what could you possibly do? There are no words that come to you, no magical reconciliation that seems realistic in the span of sixty seconds.

So instead, you walk towards your old room, grateful for its location far away from the others but devastated that you have to return at all.

---

The rest of the day is a slow and painful battle. Everything and everyone glides before you in a disorienting jumble of images, sounds, and colors. You make it a point to avoid being near Kuvira and successfully manage to do so.

Bolin and Zhen approach you near dinner, inviting you to evening tea, which you politely decline. Later on you realize it was probably their attempt at offering some solace, though they are unaware of the circumstances that have created your somber mood. Though the realization should bring you gratitude, you find yourself feeling nothing.

You decide to slide into bed early, hoping that it will be sufficient enough to fool your brain into falling asleep after many nights of tossing and turning. Naturally, the sensation of the fabric against your skin feels unreal and discomforting. Nothing feels very real anymore.

Your eyes zero in on the dwindling flame of your bedside candle, tracing the soft edges of the fire as it melts into the dark purple base of the wick. This tiny ember seems to be the last thing tethering you to reality.

That is until there’s a muted rap at your door that barely makes you shift in bed. Your muscles tense up but you still consider ignoring it altogether. Regardless of who it may be, you aren’t confident you have the ability to interact with anybody right now...much less the person you want to see the most.

Your internal debate is interrupted by another, less assertive tap that instantly confirms who awaits on the other side. Despite the loss of feeling in your body, your legs twist off the side of the bed of their own accord. Your feet shuffle until you reach the door and you imagine the floor beneath them is icy cold but all you feel is the curious sleekness of the material as if you were dreaming.

When you reach the metal barrier that separates you from Kuvira, you are unable to lift the arm that would slide it open and bring her the closest to you that you’ve been in days. Days that have stretched on like weeks, maybe even years. You think back to last Monday, where everything seemed perfect and you felt fully at peace, and you cannot believe you are that same person. You wonder if you still are.

A soft clicking sound lures you back to the present and you realize the door is being slid open by the unmistakable use of metalbending. It shifts slowly, unsurely. When it’s about halfway open, you immediately notice the distinguishing shape of Kuvira’s shoulder plates. The sight causes your breath to snag in your throat and you step back.

She pauses her movement but doesn’t dare look past the door to see you. “If you want me to leave, tell me and I will,” she murmurs. You shake your head and shut your eyes. “No,” you respond brokenly. “Don’t leave.”

You turn away and walk over to the window, hoping Kuvira will still walk in. There is a moment of silence in which you assume she has decided to leave but the door slides closed and you hear two, four steps and then quiet.

Your heart pounds so hard against your chest you swear you can feel it graze against the bone, or perhaps you have convinced yourself that it will shatter your sternum and collapse onto the ground simply by having Kuvira so close to you again. There is a thunderous ringing in your ears that travels to your head, where it feels like your skull has been submerged underwater and your breathing is nearly nonexistent.

Time moves dreadfully slowly and you aren’t sure how much of it has passed when Kuvira finally disrupts the stillness. When she speaks, you realize you haven’t seen her face since she arrived.

“I don’t know what to say,” she admits. Her voice is strained with some level of anxiety that is unfamiliar to you. It strikes something deep in your core that makes you turn around and finally face her.

If you had looked at any other part of Kuvira first, you might have assumed she was still totally unmoved by the rift that had developed over the past few days. Her uniform is all crisp lines and vibrant shades of green. Her hair is pinned behind her neck with each strand carefully tucked into place. She is the spitting image of Earth Empire decorum.

Instead, you look at her face and see that she looks utterly defeated. It’s the only way to describe the grim shadows beneath her eyes and the sunken skin stretched over her cheekbones. Her lips are pressed into a tight line and you wonder what words are hiding beneath them.

“Kuvira…” Her name comes out sounding like a lamentation. It fits oddly in your mouth, as if it were unfamiliar and your tongue was still figuring out how to curl around the syllables. Nothing else comes out — your thoughts are nonexistent. A blank canvas and that roaring buzz that will not cease.

“You’re leaving me,” she states. The words barely process before you feel your face contort into a painful combination of disbelief and hurt. “What?” you whisper. It’s such a pathetically simple response to something that has evoked such an unbearable sensation but you can’t translate anything into words. You can only feel everything and everything hurts.

“It’s the only logical conclusion I could arrive at,” she continues. Her voice remains relatively still but when she continues speaking you notice her words emerge with increasing speed and forcefulness. “When you left our...my quarters, it was sufficient indication that you wanted nothing more to do with me.”

“Kuvira.”

“I should hope this won’t interfere with the progression of the Empire’s reunification, otherwise I will gladly—”

“Kuvira!”

Her eyes meet yours again, startled, and they shimmer with brimming tears that reflect the waning candlelight. Whereas she had been staring into some point far beyond the present moment just seconds ago, she now watches you with an expression that is so completely demoralized it shatters whatever reservations you had been trying to cling onto.

“I’m not leaving you,” you respond. A blank expression brushes over her features momentarily before it is replaced with incredulity. “What?” she breaths.

“I can’t leave you. Never. I could never leave you, Kuvira,” you sob, no longer attempting to quell the turmoil of emotions threatening to overflow. “I just need to know that you didn’t mean what you said. Please. That’s all I need right now.”

It’s at that point where Kuvira crumples to the ground, her legs folding beneath her body like old parchment paper, and she stares at it in disbelief. “You...you aren’t leaving me?”

You plunge to the ground with her and ignore the searing flare of pain that shoots up your legs when your knees crash against it. Your fingers twitch with the aching desire to hold Kuvira in your arms and feel the solidity of her body but you don’t make a single move to touch her. You need to know that she wants it, that she’s okay with it.

Which is why when she looks up at you, with that enticingly beautiful and often deceptively stoic face, and she touches her fingertips to the back of your hands, you take them both and bring them to your face. You hold onto them tightly, worrying that if you let go Kuvira might disappear and she’ll truly be gone forever.

“Kuvira, I love you more than you could ever possibly comprehend. I don’t understand it myself most of the time,” you say.

“But after what I said,” she continues. “You should want to leave. No one would stay after something like that. You shouldn’t want to stay with me. You should want to leave.”

“I won’t not leave you unless you want me to. The day you decide you’ve had enough of this, you say the word and I’ll respect your wishes. But this won’t drive me away. I’m not everyone else, Kuvira. I’m not leaving you behind. Not now, not ever,” you reassure her.

Any lingering hint of impassivity she’s struggled to hold onto totally shatters by the time you finish speaking. Her eyes slide shut and heavy streams of tears slide along her face. She is so silent, one might not even realize she was crying from any other angle. But from this vantage point, you see the tremors quaking through her body.

You feel the slightest tug of Kuvira pulling you forward and it’s all the invitation you need to gather her into your arms, wrapping your hands over her head and pressing it against your chest. Whatever words materialize stay trapped as thoughts so you pray that this alone is enough for now, that Kuvira can at least feel this promise you vow to never break.

The moment your bodies touch again, after too many hours of reaching for shadows and clinging onto empty bedsheets, the quivering in Kuvira’s body intensifies for a few seconds before slowly fading into stillness. She tucks her face into the crook of your neck and you feel the uneven pattern of her breath against your skin.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” she sighs. The words are so faint they are barely audible but in the quiet of the room, it would be impossible to disregard them. “I can’t do this by myself. I need you here with me and I always have. I’m sorry...I’m sorry for hurting you the way I did.”

Your breath, which had been caught in your throat, hurtles from your mouth with the weight of your relief after fearing the worst possible outcome. Though you had never once considered the possibility of ending your relationship over this, you realize you were never prepared for the reality that Kuvira would think you wanted to.

But it all makes sense. Time and time again, life had dealt Kuvira with the worst possible manifestations of human nature. The outright negligence of her parents, the ostracization she felt from her new family, and the ultimate betrayal from Suyin had thoroughly convinced her that no one could genuinely see her as worth waiting for, as worth the patience she needed.

Even after this many months together, experiencing the worst in each other and confronting life’s greatest trials, she still feared your abandonment as well. The truth weighs on you painfully and you find yourself clinging harder to her body, hoping she can sense the true depth of your love for her as you wait for the words to finally flow.

“I’m sorry too,” you murmur into her hair. “I shouldn’t have left you alone. I never, ever want you to think I’m going to leave you and much less in that way. I promise you, Kuvira, I am staying with you through the end of this and far beyond that too.”

She nods once and slides her arms up your back until her nails are clawing into your nightshirt. You fall back on your heels, never once breaking your embrace.

You know she will find another way to secure the southern region and ensure the world leaders continue entrusting this endeavor in her hands. But for now, you stay still together like this, swathing yourselves in each other’s heat and the consolation of knowing there is still a future after all.

[meandsomemore]

This Bedroom

Limiting myself

To this isolated room

Taking away all my creativity

As I feel doom

This room

Locking me up

And straddling me in

Telling me i'm not good enough

Outside of this space i'm within

This room

Square shaped

Box shaped

4x4

Locking me in until I cant do this no more

Trapping me of my dreams

Of my hopes and wishes

Of my desires

Making thoughts even lighter

Taking the weight off of a life filled with goals 

Replacing it with the heaviness

I feel when i dream anything

bigger than me all alone

This bedroom

Locking me in

And locking me out

Of a dream filled with self doubt

Feeling unheard

Unlistened to

Not understood

Except the voices in my head

Telling me to get out of bed

While i sit there

Ignoring it's rings

Sending it straight to voicemail

While i waste away in my own stink

The foul scent of one who chooses

To stay in the confines of where

She's outgrown

Where she can no longer be

Choosing to find comfort in a place

She no longer needs to see

To settle in a place

Just to find a stopping ground

Because she’s tired of floating

Hoping to bring back

The gravity she gave away

Rushing herself into a groundless place

Allowing herself to float as she asks

“Who put me up there?”

And “why can't I come down?”

Why...can't...I...come...down?

What's stopping me from

bringing myself down

where I can finally feel found?

In myself

Finding comfort in ambition

Why am I so afraid to strive?

For something greater?

I'm afraid to finally feel sane

Anxiety rushes through my body

As I try to stop myself from

Doing all the things

Im meant to start proudly

Putting myself through

This cycling of pain

Can i really let myself Feel vain?

Vain in my work

In my desires to do stronger

Than my past

What would my life look like If i made this shit last?

Can I really move past?

And put the old me

In the back while i try to move on

Into someone i must become

Why haven't i had my death

For the past behaviors

That no longer serves me?

Where is my eulogy for those bad behaviors

That kept me feeling unlike me?

That let me sit in my pain

And not live my life this way

Where is my eulogy?

For the me that felt

She needed permission to just be her?

Who felt unsafe in her own body

And doubted every decision

That didn't come with precision

Who was afraid to feel

Because feeling required me

To stray away from my head

And without that i felt dead

Giving myself up to a feeling

That had no support

Or evidence from my head

To think or not to think?

That is the question

But the only question for me,

Why would i choose to go off what i feel

When everything is telling me It's not real

I think before i am

And i shouldn't praise due

To a mentality

That got me feeling stuck

In my own body

Like it's an autonomy

Crippling anxiety

Being created from

the crippling insides of me

When my voice is quiet

The loudness inside

The back of my head

Fills my world instead

Pre-occupying my time

Spent living in my head

Creating a home out of doubt and fears

And stagnation

Too afraid to take the first step

Because the first step means

I have to leave the place i find comfort

And i don't want to leave home

My mind being the unsafe captivator

Reeling me in with all that's bad for me

Presenting cookies of deception

Milk of failure

And sweets of anxiety

And my hansel and gretel mentality

Willingly walked into the witches home

Creating a false sense of peace of mind

Stationing myself in there

I let my kidnapper become my lover

As the thoughts begin to feel warm

I guess that's what they call stockholm

The words of “you won't be able to do that.”

Brings me seduction

As the “that's too big for you to do”

Becomes sweet words to my deafening ears

“What will you do? You don't know what you’ll do?”

“Is this even what you want to do?”

Sings to me as I let it sting to me

sinking into my anxiety

Lying next to me as i lay in bed

Not having left in two moons

The words accompanied by the pressures of others

Filling my skull as i become

Engulfed by opinions and thoughts

Of others wanting to make room

from a head that's already at full capacity

“Will these be the one? Will I make it with this one?”

Giving myself a timer to measure my speed of when I’ll finally be free

From the pressures to break free from a life asking too much of me

To get out the slums, out the ghetto of my mind

Of my situation in a time that i can finally live in peace

Hit pause and not need to rewind

Content with where i'm at

No longer questioning do i need to work harder

Am I living just to live or am I living to make it big?

And what and who defines what's big?

What is it and why am i putting all these pressures

On myself to outlive my pains and all my worries

I guess i'm just trying to prove

To myself and others that this was all worth it

That me moving back home, no job, sitting at home

Was all worth it

And it was because i healed a lot

I spent a year healing and that was a lot

Bringing me closer to myself than I've ever been

Unlocking so much truths and pain

That the biggest work was myself

And it continues to be

[queen-scribbles]

Ours

Here we go, only three years overdue, canon version of Tel finding out he’s a dad. :D

---

Elara was fidgeting.

It was an unusual enough sight it almost stopped Tel in his tracks. Elara Dorne--well, Airen--didn’t fidget. No matter how pleasant or unpleasant or boring the circumstances, she was the model of poise and professionalism. And she definitely. Did not. Fidget.

Except, apparently, for now. Her fingers picked at the small metallic object she held as she sat on the couch in their quarters, and she looked a hairsbreadth from bouncing her knee as well. Which meant whatever was on her mind was likely something beyond serious and should be treated accordingly.

So he swallowed any jokes he been planning and plopped down on the couch  next to her. “You wanted to talk, Els?”

“I did.” She nodded, her attention still on the object in her hands. She turned it over and over, picking at the edges.

“Must be important,” Tel hinted gently when she didn’t continue.

A wry smile pulled at one side of her mouth. “It is. Dearest...” Elara bit her lip as the words petered out, then shook her head slightly and started over. “I have... something important to discuss with you; a topic I’ve been wanting to broach since... since Iokath. With our schedules it’s proven difficult to find a good time, so I’m doing it now, whether or not it’s good, and I apologize for any meetings you may miss as a result.”

“I’m all ears,” Tel promised, reaching over to give her knee a comforting squeeze. “You’re way more important to me than any meeting.”

She mustered a smile at that, then leaned forward and placed the object she’d been fiddling with on the low table in front of the couch. It was a small holoprojector, etched with a simple design, the type made to be portable and store images long term. A brush of Elara’s thumb over the controls brought it to life.

Tel examined the pale blue image when it appeared. It was a young girl--maybe seven?--with dark hair that hung almost to her waist. She was smiling impishly, and even as a holo there was no hiding the twinkle of mischievous charm in her eyes. Her hands were clasped behind her back as if trying to keep something secret just a few moments longer.

“Cute kid,” Tel said, glancing at Elara and wondering which potential direction this was going to go.

“She is,” Elara confirmed with a faint smile. “Her name is Kaira.” She reached over and laced her fingers between his. “She’s ours.”

It took half a second for her meaning to hit, and Tel flinched, grip tightening around her hand, when it did. The air seemed to freeze in his lungs for a moment as he stared at the holo.

“She...” he finally managed through the punched-in-the-gut feeling. “...Yours-and-mine ours?”

She nodded and squeezed his hand. “Are you alright, Tel?”

“Sweetheart, I’m...” A dad. I’m a dad. He gave a breathless laugh. “I’m great. A little stunned, but elated.” He freed his hand to drag her into a hug, still staring at the holo of his daughter. He had a daughter. “Weighing the pros and cons of punching Arcann in the teeth for making me miss... her, but otherwise...” A thought occurred and he frowned ever so slightly. “Did Jorgan know?”

He might be having words with the man if he had and didn’t say anything.

Elara shook her head and sat back to meet his eyes, her posture noticeably less tense. “She must have been conceived just before the Expedition was... lost” --her voice faltered for just a moment-- “and I didn’t discover I was pregnant until after the Supreme Chancellor had relieved me of my Havoc command. Jorgan and I didn’t keep in touch much past the first month or two, while he was helping me attempt to get the position back.” She smiled. “He probably wondered why I wasn’t fighting for it harder, truth be told. But between my condition and Chancellor Saresh’s obvious obstinance, it quickly became evident that was not a worthwhile fight.”

“So working for Malcolm...”

“Was actually rather perfect,” Elara confirmed the unfinished question with a nod. “I was still involved, still doing my part, but in a more administrative capacity than field work. It allowed me to... look for you and prepare for raising a child alone.”

He winced. “Sorry I wasn’t there.”

“Considering you were frozen in carbonite half a galaxy away at that point, I think I can safely say it wasn’t your fault, dearest,” she said lightly.

“And we’re back to me punching Arcann in the face,” Tel muttered, tugging her in for another hug.

“That wouldn’t really help anything at this point, darling,” Elara remonstrated, though her lips quirked toward a smile.

“Would make me feel a hell of a lot better,” he grumbled. “But I guess it wouldn’t set the best example, would it? For... Kaira.” It made him grin a little just saying her name.

She giggled faintly, the sound muffled by his shirt. “No, it wouldn’t.”

Tel rested his chin against the top of her head and gave an exaggerated huff of resignation. “Oh, fine, I won’t punch the reformed tyrant for makin’ me miss my daughter growin’ up.” He hesitated a beat, gaze back on the holo. “Els? What’s she like?”

Elara was quiet for a moment, her fingers curling into his shirt, but he could hear the smile in her voice when she spoke. “She’s... wonderful. Challenging at times, but worth every moment she’s made me want to pull my hair out. She has your smile, a fact I’ve both loved and hated depending on the day.”

He hugged her closer wordlessly, shifting so the corner of the couch would offer some support.

Elara took a deep breath. “She was a good baby, for which I’m grateful. Could likely sleep through a bombing run.”

“Els.” He didn’t want to dwell on the odds that theory had been tested, knowing what the Eternal Empire had done to Coruscant.

“We’re fine. Nothing ever came close enough,” she promised, before carrying on. “She’s extremely curious, very smart-”

“She gets that from you,” Tel muttered, which earned a quiet chuckle from his wife.

“I wouldn’t sell yourself so short, dearest. You’re not a stupid man,” she said teasingly, her fingers tracing light patterns against his collarbone. 

“I was smart enough to marry you,” Tel conceded. “So I guess I’m not a total lost cause.”

“There you go, Kaira gets her smarts from both of us,” Elara laughed softly.

But more from you. Tel kept the thought to himself. “If anyone could raise a smart, amazing kid by themselves, it would be you,” he said instead.

“There you go putting me on a pedestal again,” Elara said, playful chiding in her tone.

“Again implies a point where you came down from the pedestal,” Tel rejoined.He kissed the top of her head. “You’re there for life, sweetheart.”

“Ah.” There was a smile in her voice. “Well, before you go counting up more honors for me,Tel; I did not raise her entirely on my own. I had friends who helped, and Aleksei did as well, when he could.”

“Okay, that one’s a bit of a surprise,” Tel admitted. “I thought your brother was in Republic custody?”

“He was. A ‘person of concern’, I believe was the classification; same as I once was. And then he made some valuable contributions at great personal risk in fighting the second Zakuulan assault on Coruscant, which earned him some greater freedoms. Such as lending the Republic his technical expertise and assisting me with Kaira.”

“‘Great personal risk’?” Tel repeated, having noticed how her voice caught on the phrase.

Elara gave a shaky sigh. “Let’s just say you are no longer the only person I care about who has gotten himself blown up in the course of being noble. It wasn’t quite bad enough to require cybernetics, but there was scarring. And a limp.”

Tel blew out a breath and rubbed her back. “I’m glad he’s okay, Els.”

“As am I. After recovering, he was tasked with something computer-related that kept him on Coruscant, so he could help sometimes with Kaira. A lot, actually.” She smiled again. “They’ve grown quite close. She calls him Uncle Lesky, even now that she can say his name correctly.”

Tel smiled, his brow furrowing slightly in thought. “Oh, yeah, she must be, what, six or seven by now?”

Elara stilled for a moment, then reluctantly slid from their hug so she could look at him. “That’s part of why I felt it so urgent to tell you; she’ll be six next week. I assumed you would want to meet her before then. So we could celebrate as a family.”

Yes. “I dunno Els,” he deadpanned with a faint smirk. “Depends on what you’ve told her about me.”

Elara matched his smirk. “Oh, you know, as we discussed; you’re brave, handsome, charming. How you took the stuffy Imperial no one liked and made me the happiest woman in the galaxy, every day we were together. That you always stood up for those who couldn’t protect themselves, and helped those who could stand their ground. That you have a ridiculous sweet tooth she apparently inherited along with your kindness. That you like to steal the blankets,” she continued playfully, leaning in to steal a kiss. “And that you always know how to make me laugh.” She paused, sighed. “How much you would love her.”

“And the fact I was declared KIA? That come up yet?” he asked dryly.

Her brow furrowed briefly, and Tel caught the flicker of pain that danced through her brown eyes. “It did, when she was three. I told her some people believed you died fighting something very dangerous to protect the galaxy, but they were wrong. You were still alive, fighting to keep us safe.” She looked him in the eye. “Because that’s what I believed, with all my heart. She accepted it--what’s the saying about mother knows best?--and it didn’t come up again. Then the Republic learned of your Alliance, and I could show her you were alive and” --she smiled drolly-- “fighting bad guys to keep us safe. I suspect she’d be very excited to hear she can finally meet you.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” Tel grinned, kissing the tip of Elara’s nose. “She with your brother right now?”

Elara nodded. “She is. Whenever I’m off-planet.”

“Then hell yes, see how fast you can get ‘em out here.” He kissed her again. “I know Aleksei might not be able to stay long if he has a job to get back to, but I’d like the chance to ‘meet’ him without transparisteel and a Republic watchdog in the picture.”

A soft, giddy laugh escaped her. “I’ll get right on that. As soon as I steal you for myself just a bit longer,” she amended, leaning back into his space and bracing a hand against the arm of the couch to kiss him.

Tel grinned slyly, cupping her face with one hand and running his thumb along her cheekbone. “Seventy three minutes?”

Elara smiled back mischievously and carded her fingers through his hair until her hand rested at the back of his head. “If you think we can manage that long...”

He closed the distance to capture her lips in a kiss. “Sweetheart, I’d like to see them try and stop us.”

----

They got forty seven minutes, which was frankly longer than either of them had really expected, before Tel’s comm started trilling. And so, with much grumbling about “no rest for the wicked”, he got himself together and headed off to see what the Alliance needed, leaving Elara to work out getting their daughter to Odessen.

She slipped the holo in his pocket as he headed out the door. “In case you want to show her off.”

And show her off he did; to Theron, Lana, Vette, Senya--anyone at all  who commented on the grin he couldn’t seem to wipe off his face. He did his best not to be distracted from the Important Alliance Business that required his attention, but a man had his limits.

He slipped a hand in his pocket to curl around the cool metal as he tried to focus on Aygo’s briefing about ship deployments rather than what was (hopefully) coming soon, and smiled to himself. 

I can’t wait to meet you, Kaira.

--------------------------------

(I was originally gonna take this through Tel actually getting to meet Kaira, but that part’s getting crazy long and I need to work on other stuff that has actual deadlines, so it’ll have to wait.)

[marrysue]

ENNEAGRAM CHEAT SHEET 🌙

I’ve spent the past few weeks creating a basic guide to the nine types, intended to be helpful for both typing yourself (if you’re new to the Enneagram) and for better understanding your type, other types, and the work that comes with them (if you already know the system). I did my best to organize it in an accessible way that allows for use as a quick reference. If this is the first time you’re ever hearing of the Enneagram, though, there will probably be some unfamiliar vocab words, and it could be helpful to glance over how the system works. For even more obscure stuff that isn’t mentioned in the previous link (like Hornevian or Harmonic groups), search my blog, check out a credible resource, or feel free to send me an ask or DM! Likewise, if you’re interested in something, I’ll be happy to expand on it – this is all abbreviated and there’s more to say about everything mentioned. It’s still pretty long, though, so everything’s below the cut. 

Sources: 

The Complete Enneagram: 27 Paths to Greater Self-Knowledge by Dr. Beatrice Chestnut (much of this post is copied verbatim from this book)

The Wisdom of the Enneagram: The Complete Guide to Psychological and Spiritual Growth for the Nine Personality Types by Don Richard Riso and Ross Hudson 

NINE

Basic Archetype: The person who seeks to harmonize with the external environment was a way of staying comfortable and peaceful, even though this means a loss of contact with their internal environment. Akin to the meaning behind both “fusion” and “union,” this archetype’s drive is to maintain a sense of calm and connectedness through merging with the outside and diminished awareness of the inside.

Key Traits: Over-adjustment and merging; resignation; easygoing nature/affability; indecision

Focus of Attention: Others; what is going on in the environment; avoiding conflict; creating harmony

Basic Fear: Loss of connection, of fragmentation

Basic Desire (and Its Distortion): The desire to be at peace (deteriorates into stubborn neglectfulness of oneself)

Core Emotion/Triad: Anger/Gut

Relationship to Core Emotion: “Underdo” anger; will report not (or rarely) feeling anger; anger leaks out in passive-aggression, passively resisting being controlled by others

Unconscious Childhood Message: “It’s not okay to assert yourself.”

Lost Childhood Message: “Your presence matters.”

Defense Mechanism: Dissociation – dimming of awareness; immersion in an activity; watering down the experience of life; avoiding feelings, needs, and wants through distraction

Emotional Passion: Laziness – a deadening of feeling; an inability to know what one wants; an inability to contact oneself; a hesitance to voice strong opinions or assert one's will in the world

Emotional Virtue: Right Action – A way of being that is awake and engaged and fully present to our natural impulses to know and move toward what we want and need

Direction of Disintegration (Stress): Six (anxious and worried)

Can Unconsciously Be: Uncomfortable anxiety and sense of threat 

Can Be Consciously Used To: Move Nines out of inertia and stimulate them to action in support of themselves; allow them to go into their heads to analyze themselves

Direction of Integration (Growth): Three (self-developing and energetic)

Can Unconsciously Be: An anxious and confused sense of “doing” in response to extreme situations of not having done enough

Can Be Consciously Used To: Developmentally reestablish a healthy balance between supporting and attuning to others and doing what it takes to further their own achievements; re-engage with their lost sense of initiative and self-interested action

Orientation to Time/Hornevian Group: Past/Withdrawing

Harmonic Group: Positive Outlook

Subtypes

Self-Preservation: “Appetite” – Instead of feeling an ongoing connection to their feelings, desires, and power, Self-Preservation Nines focus on merging with physical comforts and routine activities, such as eating, sleeping, reading, or doing crossword puzzles. SP Nines are practical, concrete people who focus on everyday things rather than abstractions.

Social: “Participation” (countertype) – Social Nines fuse with groups. They act out laziness when connecting with their own inner life by working hard to be a part of the different groups in their lives. Fun-loving, sociable, and congenial characters, Social Nines can be workaholics, prioritizing the group’s needs above their own. This high level of activity makes them the countertype of the three Nine subtypes.

Sexual: “Fusion” – Sexual Nines express the passion of laziness by merging with the important people in their lives. Sexual Nines unconsciously take on the attitudes, opinions, and feelings of others, because it can feel too hard to stand on their own. These Nines tend to be kind, gentle, shy characters who are not very assertive. 

What Nines Can Do to Address Their Personality Patterns: Practice “remembering” themselves; ask themselves what they want; reframe conflict as a good thing that brings them closer to people; work to get in touch with their anger and be more direct; take baby steps toward conflict by practicing giving and receiving feedback; remind themselves that staying comfortable leads to discomfort; use the stress/growth points consciously 

EIGHT

Basic Archetype: The person who denies weakness and vulnerability by taking refuge in fearlessness, power, and strength. This archetype tends to express instinctual drives in a less inhibited way and to push back on whatever might restrict them. A personality with this archetype focuses on asserting control in big ways through an “expansive absolution” characterized by domination and intensity. This approach entails identification with a glorified self (rather than a diminished sense of self).

Key Traits: Anger and the willingness to confront; rebelliousness; punitiveness/revenge; dominance; insensitivity/ruthlessness; (idealization of) autonomy; sensory-motor dominance

Focus of Attention: Power; control; injustice; sources of satisfaction/stimulation

Basic Fear: Fear of being controlled, vulnerable, or harmed

Basic Desire (and Its Distortion): The desire to protect oneself (deteriorates into constant fighting)

Core Emotion/Triad: Anger/Gut

Relationship to Core Emotion: Overdo anger; have easy access to angry energy, overcompensate for more vulnerable emotions by feeling anger instead

Unconscious Childhood Message: “It’s not okay to be vulnerable or to trust anyone.”

Lost Childhood Message: “You will not be betrayed.”

Defense Mechanism: Denial – habitual denial of vulnerability and weakness; “omnipotent control” and the belief that reality can be changed through confident self-assertion

Emotional Passion: Lust – a passion for excess, a passion that seeks intensity, not only through sex, but in all manner of stimulation: activity, anxiety, spices, high speed, the pleasure of loud music, and so on; an unapologetic attitude toward the quest for pleasure

Emotional Virtue: Innocence – a way of being that is free from guilt, pure of heart, and naturally connected to the flow of animal wisdom and nature as a whole; encompasses the ability to wake up to the animal or instinctual level of our functioning and to see and feel how it comes from a pure source in the natural order of things

Direction of Disintegration (Stress): Five (secretive and fearful)

Can Unconsciously Be: An extreme response to an intense experience of stress, a mode of retreat Eights are driven to when their normal reliance on power and action has failed 

Can Be Consciously Used To: Help Eights develop a capacity of careful analysis conducted from a distance in place of overreliance on force, aggression, and bold (sometimes precipitous) action to get what they need

Direction of Integration (Growth): Two (open-hearted and caring)

Can Unconsciously Be: An acting out of the Two habits of “giving to get” and seducing through charm and helpfulness (compulsively and expansively doing things for others, giving advice, expressing physical affection); an unconscious search for the comfort of relationships during stress; a way to act out the disowned need for love they don’t usually allow themselves to feel

Can Be Consciously Used To: Developmentally reestablish a healthy balance between attuning to others’ feelings and needs and asserting their own needs 

Orientation to Time/Hornevian Group: Future/Aggressive

Harmonic Group: Reactive

Subtypes

Self Preservation: “Satisfaction” – Self Preservation Eights express the passion of lust through a focus on getting what they need for survival. SP Eights have a strong desire for the timely satisfaction of material needs and an intolerance for frustration. SP Eights know how to survive in difficult situations and feel omnipotent when it comes to getting what they need. They are the least expressive and the most armed of the three Eight subtypes. 

Social: “Solidarity” (countertype) – Social Eights express lust and aggression in the service of others. A social antisocial person, this is the countertype of the Eights, a helpful Eight who appears less aggressive and more loyal than the other two Eight subtypes. The name “Solidarity” emphasizes their tendency to offer help when people need protection.

Sexual: “Possession” – Sexual Eights express lust through rebellion and the need to possess everyone’s attention. Sexual Eights are intense, charismatic characters who want to have control and influence. Instead of seeking material security, they try to get power over things and people. The name “Possession” refers to an energetic takeover of the whole scene – a need to feel powerful through dominating the whole environment. 

What Eights Can Do to Address Their Personality Patterns: See how rebellion against limits may lead to self-limitation; broaden their view of who has authority over the truth (how do you know you’re not wrong?); learn about limits; consult their heads and hearts before taking action; use aggression as a clue to underlying feelings; reframe vulnerability and weakness as expressions of great strength; catch themselves in the act of avoiding vulnerability and dependence; regularly inquire into their emotional depths and allow themselves to experience more feelings; make their need for love more conscious; consciously use the stress/growth points

SEVEN

Basic Archetype: The person who seeks pleasure in different forms as a distraction from the discomfort, darkness, and downside of life. This archetype’s drive is to defend against the experience of pain using intelligence, imagination, charm, and enthusiasm, and to avoid fear through an optimistic outlook.

Key Traits: Self-Referencing; positive reframing/optimism; hedonism; rebelliousness; lack of focus/discipline

Focus of Attention: Their own inner experience and needs (especially their own thoughts); their own plans and preferences

Basic Fear: Fear of being deprived or trapped in pain 

Basic Desire (and Its Distortion): The desire to be happy (deteriorates into frenetic escapism) 

Core Emotion/Triad: Fear/Head

Relationship to Core Emotion: “Underplay” fear; will report not (or rarely) feeling fear; defend themselves with mental intelligence 

Unconscious Childhood Message: “It’s not okay to depend on anyone for anything.”

Lost Childhood Message: “You will be taken care of.” 

Defense Mechanism: Rationalization and Idealization – finding good reasons for any desired action, thought, or feeling; perceiving people and experiences as being better than they are 

Emotional Passion: Gluttony – an (often insatiable) hunger for stimulating experiences of all kinds, such as good meals, pleasurable interactions with others, interesting conversations, or exciting travel plans 

Emotional Virtue: Sobriety – a state of being that is free from the pressure of the insatiability of the desire for more

Direction of Disintegration (Stress): One (perfectionistic and critical)

Can Unconsciously Be: An anxious resistance or adherence to the constraints imposed by rules and routines 

Can Be Consciously Used To: Help Sevens move out of their dreams and fantasies, and into a more realistic acceptance of standards and limits; help open Sevens up to the possibility of a supportive structure based on standards and precision that can help them actualize their ideals 

Direction of Integration (Growth): Five (focused and profound) 

Can Unconsciously Be: A temporary shut down as an escape from over-commitment and excessive activity 

Can Be Consciously Used To: Developmentally establish a healthy balance between the desire to be involved in the stimulation of the social world and the need to rest and reinvigorate through a healthy withdrawal from the social scene

Orientation to Time/Hornevian Group: Future/Aggressive

Harmonic Group: Positive Outlook

Subtypes

Self Preservation: “Keepers of the Castle” – The Self Preservation Seven expresses gluttony through making alliances and creating opportunities for gaining an advantage. Pragmatic and self-interested, these Sevens find safety through networking and being alert to opportunities that support their survival. The name “Keepers of the Castle” refers to their way of establishing a partisan network of allies through which they create safety and satisfy their needs. Cheerful and amiable, they have a love of pleasure and tend to get what they want.

Social: “Sacrifice” (countertype) – As the countertype, Social Sevens go against gluttony through conscientious efforts to be of service to others. Conscious of wanting to avoid exploiting others, they have a need to be good and pure and to sacrifice their own needs in supporting the needs of others. They have a passion for being seen as good for the sacrifice of their own desires. They express an ascetic ideal and make a virtue of getting on by little. They express idealism and enthusiasm as a way of making themselves feel active and valued in the world.

Sexual: “Suggestibility” – Sexual Sevens express gluttony through a need to imagine something better than ordinary reality. Gluttons for things of a higher world, they are idealistic dreamers with a passion for living in their imaginations. Sexual Sevens look at things with the optimism of someone who is in love; they see the world through rose-colored glasses. “Suggestibility” refers to being somewhat naive and easy to hypnotize. Light-hearted and enthusiastic, they focus on exciting possibilities and pleasurable fantasies, and they believe they can do everything. 

What Sevens Can Do to Address Their Personality Patterns: Make themselves more mindful of the movement from pleasure to pain; don’t mistake pleasure for “treasure”; recognize the pleasure of their pain and the pain that comes from living only for pleasure; recognize anxiety as a side effect of liberation; learn the difference between love and pleasure; reference others as a way of balancing freedom and connection; see all the ways they go to “then” to escape from “now”; allow for a fuller experience of pain and other uncomfortable emotions; risk living in the present; consciously use the stress/growth points

SIX

Basic Archetype: The person who, given the fear of impending threat, seeks to find safety through the protection of others or by taking refuge in their own strength. The drive of this archetype is to scan for danger in a scary world and defensively manage fear and anxiety through fight, flight, or friends. 

Key Traits: Hypervigilance; theoretical orientation; orientation to authority (sweetness, obedience, or defiance, depending on the subtype) and hierarchical worldview; doubt and ambivalence; contrarian thinking; tendency to create self-fulfilling prophecies 

Focus of Attention: Potential threats and how they might cope with them; doubting and questioning themselves

Basic Fear: Fear of being without support or guidance

Basic Desire (and Its Distortion): The desire to be secure (deteriorates into an attachment to beliefs) 

Core Emotion/Triad: Fear/Head 

Relationship to Core Emotion: Overdo fear, but vary in their level of awareness that they act from fear

Unconscious Childhood Message: “It’s not okay to trust yourself.”

Lost Childhood Message: “You are safe.” 

Defense Mechanism: Projection and Splitting – psychologically defending from an internal sense of fear by unconsciously projecting it out or “getting rid of it,” imagining that it originates in the outside world, often in another person; making one person or group all bad or all good as a way to feel less fear; locating the “badness” (or source of fear) in a clear way as to more easily cope with it 

Emotional Passion: Fear/Anxiety – fear of the unknown, anxiety and obsessive worrying about potential threats to well-being, self-doubt and uncertainty, guilt and shame related to sense of self, or a conviction that someone means harm; apprehension, tension, or uneasiness from anticipation of danger

Emotional Virtue: Courage – a way of being that is awake to the dangers inherent in the world and at the same time able to access a natural sense of confidence in meeting them

Direction of Disintegration (Stress): Three (competitive and arrogant)

Can Unconsciously Be: Frantic action or anxious striving, arrogant and competitive belief that the groups they belong to or ideologies they believe in are better than others

Can Be Consciously Used To: Shift attention away from fears and anxieties and focus instead on the worthiness of their goals, the positive aspects connected to impressing others with their good work and sincere pride in achievement 

Direction of Integration (Growth): Nine (relaxed and optimistic)

Can Unconsciously Be: A devolution into inaction, inertia, shutdown, and unconscious merging with others when anxiety causes withdrawal from life

Can Be Consciously Used To: Reestablish a healthy balance between watching out for dangers to well-being and being able to relax in the security of supportive relationships 

Orientation to Time/Hornevian Group: Present/compliant 

Harmonic Group: Reactive

Subtypes (particularly important/distinct for this type)

Self Preservation: “Warmth” – Self Preservation Sixes express the passion of fear through a need for protection, for friendship, and for banding together with others. In seeking protective alliances, SP Sixes endeavor to be warm, friendly, and trustworthy, which is why they bear the name “Warmth.” This most “phobic” of Sixes has difficulty expressing anger, feels uncertain, and engages in a lot of self-doubt. For SP Sixes, fear manifests as insecurity, and they focus on relationships as a way of feeling safer in the world. 

Social: “Duty” – Social Sixes express fear through a need to deal with anxiety by relying on abstract reason or ideologies as a frame of reference. Obeying authority through knowing what the rules are helps them to feel safe in the world. Unlike the SP Six, this Six has more certainty and can be “too sure” of things as a way of dealing with the anxiety of uncertainty. Social Sixes focus on precision and efficiency. They adhere to whatever the guidelines are as a form of having protective authority.

Sexual: “Strength/Beauty” (countertype) – Sexual Sixes express fear by going against fear – by becoming strong and intimidating. Trusting themselves more than others, these Sixes have the inner programming that when you are afraid, the best defense is a good offense. They take on a powerful stance, both in what they do and how they look, as a way of holding the enemy at a distance. Their anxiety is allayed through skill and readiness in the face of an attack. 

What Sixes Can Do to Address Their Personality Patterns: Recognize that uncertainty is an inevitable part of life; remember that we tend to find what we seek; get out of your head and into your body; learn to discern the difference between intuition and projection; consciously claim whatever you are projecting; work to be more aware of your authority issues; recognize “fight,” “flight,” and “freeze” as fear reactions; learn to feel, manage, and let go of fear; have more faith in response to fear 

FIVE

Basic Archetype: The person who withdraws into thinking and detaches from feeling as a way of taking refuge in the inner world. This functions as a way of finding privacy and freedom in a world that seems intrusive or neglectful or overwhelming. The central drive of this archetype is to find security by minimizing needs and using resources economically so that external demands can be limited and controlled. In Fives, the natural human need for people can be displaced into a thirst for knowledge, such that internal support comes through information and firm boundaries instead of social connections.

Key Traits: Centrality/prioritization of thinking; emotional detachment; fear of engulfment; autonomy and self-sufficiency; hypersensitivity (feeling particularly vulnerable to emotional pain)

Focus of Attention: Managing inner resources; potential impingements on their privacy from the outside; mental (rather than emotional or instinctual) aspects of life; minimizing needs; analyzing and thinking 

Basic Fear: Fear of being useless, incapable, or incompetent 

Basic Desire (and Its Distortion): The desire to be competent (deteriorates into useless specialization)

Core Emotion/Triad: Fear/Head

Relationship to Core Emotion: Stave off fear by skillfully avoiding it

Unconscious Childhood Message: “It’s not okay to be comfortable in the world.”

Lost Childhood Message: “Your needs are not a problem.” 

Defense Mechanism: Isolation – unconscious separation of an emotion connected to an idea from the idea itself; compartmentalization 

Emotional Passion: Avarice – a fearful grasping of time, space, and energy, motivated by an underlying, unconscious fantasy that letting go would result in catastrophic depletion 

Emotional Virtue: Nonattachment – a way of being that is oriented toward letting go of the need to grasp what feels necessary to staying safe, and opening up to a deeper experience of the natural flow of life 

Direction of Disintegration (Stress): Seven (hyperactive and scattered)

Can Unconsciously Be: An acting out of nervousness in social situations; a manic scrambling for control 

Can Be Consciously Used To: Expand the ability to share more of themselves with others by intentionally using humor, playfulness, and intellectual curiosity to help manage social anxiety; support an engaged focus on interacting more deeply with others through creative thinking and a genuine interest in people 

Direction of Integration (Growth): Eight (self-confident and decisive) 

Can Unconsciously Be: A comfort with feeling free to act in powerful ways to protect themselves, erect walls, or push people away

Can Be Consciously Used To: Reestablish a healthy balance between withdrawing and moving out into the world; reclaim the ability to engage more actively, more fearlessly, and more powerfully in the world 

Orientation to Time/Hornevian Group: Past/Withdrawn 

Harmonic Group: Competency 

Subtypes

Self Preservation: “Castle” – The Self Preservation Five expresses avarice through a focus on boundaries – a need to be “encastled” in a sanctuary where they feel protected from intrusion and have control over their boundaries. SP Fives have a passion for being able to hide behind walls and know that they have everything they need to survive within those walls. They are the least expressive of the three Fives and they try to limit their needs and wants so that they can avoid being dependent on others. 

Social Five: “Totem” – The Social five expresses avarice through a need for “super ideals,” relating to others with common interests through knowledge and shared values (rather than emotional connection). In this Five, avarice is connected to knowledge. Needs for people and for the sustenance that relationships provide get channeled into a thirst for information. “Totem” refers to a passion for high ideals, the need to individualize experts and seek knowledge connected to whatever ultimate values this Five adheres to. Social Fives engage in a search for the ultimate meaning to avoid experiencing life as meaningless.

Sexual Five: “Confidence”: (countertype) – Sexual Fives express avarice through a search for ideal exemplars of absolute love. This is a Five with a romantic streak. The name reflects their need to find a partner who fulfills an ideal of trust. The most emotionally sensitive of the Fives, they suffer more, resemble Type Four more, and have more overt desires. They have a vibrant inner life that may be expressed through artistic creation but are still cut off from others in many ways. 

What Fives Can Do to Address Their Personality Patterns: Challenge false beliefs about scarcity; remind yourself that scarcity breeds scarcity; find direct ways to fill yourself up on the outside; become more aware of the choice to detach from feelings; make efforts to feel more emotions more often; make a point to see the upside of emotions and emotional connections; recognize that your sense that there’s nothing to fix is part of the problem; get in touch with the fear that motivates distancing and wall-building; move forward into life instead of withdrawing inside yourself  

FOUR

Basic Archetype: The person who experiences an inner sense of lack and a craving for that which is missing, and yet can’t allow for the attainment of what might provide satisfaction. This archetype’s drive is to focus on what is lacking as a step to regaining wholeness and connection, but through an over-focus on the experience of a flawed self they become convinced of an inner deficiency that provides fulfillment. While this entails an understandable frustration with regard to deprivation, an over-identification with the frustrated, deprived state leads to an inability to take in that which would provide fulfillment. 

Key Traits: Inferior self-image; focus on suffering; emotional sensitivity and empathic ability; aesthetic sensibility; push-pull patterns in relationships

Focus of Attention: Their internal experience; their emotions; the emotions of others; interpersonal connection and disconnection; the state and underlying emotional tone/status of relationships; what others think or feel about them; whether or not they are achieving authentic connections with the people around them

Basic Fear: Fear of being without identity or personal significance

Basic Desire (and Its Distortion): The desire to be oneself (deteriorates into self-indulgence) 

Core Emotion/Triad: Shame/Grief/Heart

Relationship to Core Emotion: Overdo an attachment to grief/shame

Unconscious Childhood Message: “Its not okay to be too functional or too happy.”

Lost Childhood Message: “You are seen for who you are.”

Defense Mechanism: Introjection – the internalization of painful feelings as a method of protection; the process whereby what is outside is misunderstood as coming from the inside; identifying with and swallowing another person whole so that whatever they represent becomes a part of your identity 

Emotional Passion: Envy – a sense that what is valued and needed is outside and somehow unavailable; a belief that others have something you don’t 

Emotional Virtue: Equanimity – a way of being that is both engaged with emotional life and above the ups and downs of being overly consumed with specific emotional experiences 

Direction of Disintegration (Stress): Two (overinvolved and clinging) 

Can Unconsciously Be: An effort to be liked through giving compulsively, an attempt to buy others’ love or acceptance by giving up needed things

Can Be Consciously Used To: Bring themselves out of their self-absorption, intense feelings, and isolation; find creative ways who express who they really are and open themselves to connecting with others

Direction of Integration (Growth): One (objective and principled) 

Can Unconsciously Be: A way of punishing themselves through self-evaluation, self-discipline, and structure 

Can Be Consciously Used To: Gain support needed for growth; take action to manifest ideals; gain a sense of control and accomplishment; find peace and containment amidst a life in which they can get lost in the ups and downs of their shifting moods 

Orientation to Time/Hornevian Group: Past/Withdrawing 

Harmonic Group: Reactive

Subtypes (particularly important/distinct for this type)

Self Preservation: “Tenacity” (countertype) – The Self Preservation Four is long-suffering. As the countertype of the Fours, SP Fours are stoic in the face of their inner pain and they don’t share it with others as much as the other two Fours. This is a person who learns to tolerate pain and to do without as a way of earning love. Instead of dwelling in envy, SP Fours act out their envy by working hard to get what others have and they lack. More masochistic than melodramatic, these Fours demand a lot of themselves, have a strong need to endure, and have a passion for effort.

Social: “Shame” – The Social Four suffers more, feels more shame, and is more sensitive than the other two Fours. Envy fuels a focus on shame and suffering as they employ a strategy of seducing others into meeting their needs through an intensification of pain and suffering. They experience a sense of comfort in feeling melancholy. Envy also manifests in lamenting too much, taking on the victim role, and focusing on a sense of their own inferiority. Social Fours don’t compete with others as much as they compare themselves to others and find themselves lacking. 

Sexual: “Competition” – Sexual Fours make others suffer as an unconscious way of trying to rid themselves of painful feelings of deficiency. In denying their suffering and being more shameless than shameful, they express their needs more and can be demanding of others. In seeking to be the best, they express envy in its manifestation as competition. They express “an envy that wants,” unconsciously turning their pain at inner lack into feelings of anger about not getting what they need from others. 

What Fours Can Do to Address Their Personality Patterns: Challenge your unwavering belief in your inferiority; actively work to reverse your self-debasing tendency through efforts of self-love; recognize envy, competition, and masochistic behavior as danger signs; observe and accept your emotions instead of over-identifying with them; notice and work against your desire to create drama and intensity; learn to see hopelessness, suffering, and longing as a defense against living and opening up to possibilities; align your desires with what’s possible; apply your idealism to seeing the worth inherent in yourself and others; actively shift your attention to see the positive

THREE

Basic Archetype: The person who seeks to create an image of value and success, and to gain the admiration of others, through active efforts in both work and appearance. This drive provides defensive protection in a world that rewards achievement and attractiveness and emphasizes what things look like on the outside.

Key Traits: Other-directedness; achievement orientation; focus on success; competitiveness and the drive to win; image manipulation and self-deception

Focus of Attention: Achieving goals and tasks; creating an image of success in the eyes of others; things to do; obstacles that might block their goals; others and how they are responding to the Three’s presentation

Basic Fear: Fear of being worthless or without inherent value

Basic Desire (and Its Distortion): The desire to be valuable (deteriorates into chasing after success) 

Core Emotion/Triad: Grief/Shame/Heart

Relationship to Core Emotion: Underdo grief/shame, habitually numb out feelings so they don’t get in the way of working to reach goals 

Unconscious Childhood Message: “It’s not okay to have your own feelings and identity.”

Lost Childhood Message: “You are loved for who you are.” 

Defense Mechanism: Identification – locating and matching a specific image or model; becoming what others value; creating a compelling image (to defend against the pain of not being seen and loved as you are) and mistaking that image for the totality of who you are

Emotional Passion: Vanity – living for the eyes of others; presenting a false image to inspire admiration; living life in anticipation or fantasy of the experience of another; the drive to shine, attract attention, either through the development of sex appeal or through achievement or success (based on established, universally accepted criteria)

Emotional Virtue: Hope – a state of trust that it will all be okay, that everything will work out; an experience of optimism and receptivity to what life brings; a letting go of the need to push things forward and see results 

Direction of Disintegration (Stress): Nine (disengaged and apathetic) 

Can Unconsciously Be: A place reached after working to the point of collapse; numbing/narcotization 

Can Be Consciously Used To: Learn to be more in their bodies; to include different points of view when completing a task; to slow down and broaden their focus of attention; let go of the need to control things 

Direction of Integration (Growth): Six (cooperative and committed to others)

Can Unconsciously Be: Anxious need for security 

Can Be Consciously Used To: Re-establish a healthy balance between moving forward and pausing for reflection; tap into a deeper emotional level within themselves, highlighting their need to allow for support from others; consciously insert a healthy round of questioning before moving ahead so quickly; assess what is happening at a deeper level than normal

Orientation to Time/Hornevian Group: Future/Aggressive

Harmonic Group: Competency 

Subtypes

Self Preservation: “Security” (countertype) – The Self Preservation Three has a sense of vanity for having no vanity. This Three also wants to be admired by others, but avoids openly seeking recognition. Not just satisfied with looking good, the SP Three strives to be good. They are determined to be a good person – to match the perfect model of how a person should be. Being the perfect model of quality implies virtue, and virtue implies a lack of vanity. SP Threes seek a sense of security through being good, working hard, and being effective and productive.

Social Three: “Prestige” – Social Threes focus on achievement in the service of looking good and getting the job done. They act out vanity through their desire to be seen and have influence with people. They enjoy being on stage in the spotlight. Social Threes know how to climb the social ladder and achieve success. These are the most competitive and most aggressive of the Threes. They have a driving need to look good and possess a corporate or sales mentality.

Sexual Three: “Charisma” – Sexual Threes focus on achievement in terms of personal attractiveness and supporting others. In this Three, vanity is not denied (as in the SP Three) nor embraced (as in the Social Three), but is somewhere in between: it’s employed in the service of creating an attractive image and promoting important others. These Threes have a hard time talking about themselves and often put the focus on others they want to promote. They put a lot of energy into pleasing others and they have a family/team mentality. 

What Threes Can Do to Address Their Personality Patterns: Embrace failure as a road to deepening your experience of yourself; reframe your definition of success; notice what gets left out when you are driving toward your goal; question your focus on what others value as the basis for who you think you are; discern the difference between actions motivated by image-making purposes and those that address real needs and desires; discover who you are separate from your image; don’t wait for a breakdown to alert you to the need for growth; reclaim and value your feelings; increase your ability to just “be” 

TWO

Basic Archetype: The person who seeks to please others as a way to evoke affection. The drive to win others’ approval through indirect methods, such as seduction and strategic giving, is a way to obtain emotional and material support without having to ask for it. This strategy also provides a way to try to get others to take care of you while still defending yourself against the pain of having someone important reject a direct request to meet a need. 

Key Traits: Strategic helpfulness to create indispensability; seductiveness; emotionality and emotional sensitivity; romanticism; hedonism and compensatory overindulgence 

Focus of Attention: Key people; relationships; people’s needs and feelings; managing their presentation based on what they think others will like; achieving relationships 

Basic Fear: Fear of being unworthy of being loved

Basic Desire (and Its Distortion): The desire to be loved (deteriorates into the desire to be needed) 

Core Emotion/Triad: Grief/Shame/Heart

Relationship to Core Emotion: In conflict with their shame and sadness

Unconscious Childhood Message: “It’s not okay to have your own needs.��

Lost Childhood Message: “You are wanted.” 

Defense Mechanism: Repression – making specific perceptions or emotions unconscious; insulating the psyche from a deeper source of pain so that the personality can remain functioning; burying feelings that might impede achieving a connection with important others (e.g., anger). 

Emotional Passion: Pride – aggrandizement of the self-image; the unconscious need to puff oneself up so one can be exactly what others want or need; valuing and investing in an idealized self image rather than the real self 

Emotional Virtue: Humility – a way of being that is free of the attachment to be better than you really are in order to know that you have value; resting in the knowledge that you are “good enough” as you are

Direction of Disintegration (Stress): Eight (aggressive and dominating) 

Can Unconsciously Be: Release of repressed rage; a furious attempt to set boundaries that should have been set far earlier 

Can Be Consciously Used To: Learn to be more direct and assertive as opposed to using indirect means to get needs met; allow for more freedom in interactions with others; reframe conflict as a good thing 

Direction of Integration (Growth): Four (self-nurturing and emotionally aware)

Can Unconsciously Be: Shame, moping, dark feelings; overindulgence in the martyr complex

Can Be Consciously Used To: Establish a healthy balance between focusing on the self and focusing on others; expand access to authentic emotions; reclaim a healthy ability to self-reference (to balance out their disproportionate focus on others); accept and express needs with more confidence

Orientation to Time/Hornevian Group: Present/Compliant 

Harmonic Group: Positive Outlook

Subtypes

Self Preservation: “Privilege” (countertype) – Self Preservation Twos “seduce” like a child in the presence of grown-ups as a way of (unconsciously) inducing others to take care of them. Everyone likes children, and the SP Two adopts a youthful stance as a way of getting special treatment well beyond childhood. As the countertype, it’s less easy to see pride in this Two because they are more fearful and ambivalent about connecting with others. The title “Privilege” reflects this Two’s desire to be loved and prioritized just for being who they are, not for what they give to others. Related to the youthful stance, these Twos are playful, irresponsible, and charming.  

Social: “Ambition” – The Social Two is a seducer of environments and groups – a powerful, leader type whose pride manifests as a sense of satisfaction in the conquest of an audience. This is a more adult Two in whom pride is the most obvious; the Social Two cultivates an image of being an influential, super competent person worthy of admiration. The name “Ambition” reflects this person’s desire to “be on top” and as a result of this lofty position, receive advantages and benefits. This Two “gives to get” the most and always has a strategic angle when expressing generosity.

Sexual: “Seduction/Aggression” – Sexual Twos seduce specific individuals as a way of getting needs met and feeding their pride. Similar to the “femme fatale” archetype (and male equivalent) this Two employs the methods of classical seduction to attract a partner who will meet all their needs and give them whatever they want. The name “Aggressive-Seductive” suggests a character who is appealing, but who also wants to wield some power. Energetically like a force of nature, this is a person who becomes irresistible, who inspires great passions and positive feelings as a way to meet needs in life. 

What Twos Can Do to Address Their Personality Patterns: Inquire frequently into the presence of needs and feelings; remember that real feelings create and enhance, rather than thwart, connections; learn to accept feelings and the emotional growth process; liberate yourself through healthy separation; say “maybe” on the way from “yes” to “no”; accept, but manage and contain, your emotions; open up to receiving from others by living more from your real self; focus on the freedom that boundaries provide; find the sweet spot between inflation and deflation; allow constructive conflict to enliven your relationships and strengthen your sense of self; face your pain in a conscious way so you can let it go 

ONE

Basic Archetype: The person who seeks to be good and do “the right thing” to satisfy an urgent need to be virtuous and responsible and to avoid fault and blame. This drive provides a defensive protection in a world that demands and rewards good behavior and punishes bad behavior.

Key Traits: Inner critic; over-control; virtuousness; perfectionism and criticality

Focus of Attention: Trying to make things as right as possible; errors and imperfections; things perceived as perfect 

Basic Fear: Fear of being bad, corrupt, evil, or defective 

Basic Desire (and Its Distortion): The desire to have integrity (deteriorates into critical perfectionism)

Core Emotion/Triad: Anger/Gut

Relationship to Core Emotion: At odds with their anger; anger arises from inner conflict and judgement; report experiencing anger as resentment, a low-level, background, tamped down anger that things aren’t as they should be

Unconscious Childhood Message: “It’s not okay to make mistakes.”

Lost Childhood Message: “You are good.”

Defense Mechanism: Reaction Formation – turning something into its polar opposite to render it less threatening (e.g., being excessively nice to someone with whom you are actually angry); focusing on and experiencing more acceptable “good” emotions and pushing “bad” feelings into the unconscious 

Emotional Passion: Anger – resentment, frustration, self-righteousness; resentment of the “bad” conduct of others and frustration at the difficulties of trying to achieve perfection

Emotional Virtue: Serenity – a way of being that is free of attachment to specific ways of doing things, to having to conform to the right way; a patient, relaxed feeling that goes along with feeling a sense of completeness and wholeness, a feeling that everything is as it should be and that nothing needs to be changed or perfected 

Direction of Disintegration (Stress): Four (moody and irrational) 

Can Unconsciously Be: Painful contact with depressive and melancholic feelings; bitterness and dark mood

Can Be Consciously Used To: Provide a sense of relief at the release of what Ones have have spent considerable energy holding back; allow for greater emotional freedom; live more authentically by lessening the over-control of feeling

Direction of Integration (Growth): Seven (spontaneous and joyful)

Can Unconsciously Be: A temporary escape into bad behavior or stimulating activities, followed by self-recrimination and regret

Can Be Consciously Used To: Reestablish a healthy balance between responsibility and relaxation; see that it’s okay to have fun, lighten up, and choose pleasurable options; shift attention away from the control and stress of trying to make things go right all the time

Orientation to Time/Hornevian Group: Present/Compliant

Harmonic Group: Competency

Subtypes

Self Preservation: “Worry” – Self Preservation Ones are the true perfectionists of the three Ones. They express the passion of anger through working hard to make themselves and the things they do more perfect. In this subtype, anger is the most repressed emotion; the defense mechanism of reaction formation transforms the heat of anger into warmth, resulting in a friendly and benevolent character.

Social: “Non-adaptability” – Social Ones (unconsciously) consider themselves to be perfect; they express anger through focusing on being the perfect model of “the right way” to be. They have a teacher mentality that reflects an unconscious need for superiority. In the Social One, anger is half-hidden – there’s a transformation of the heat of anger into cold. This is a cooler, intellectual personality type in which the main theme is control.

Sexual: “Zeal” (countertype) – Sexual Ones focus on perfecting others; they are more reformers than perfectionists. The only One who is explicitly angry, they act out anger through their intense desire to improve others and get what they want. They feel entitled in the way a reformer or a zealot can feel entitled: they believe they have a right to change society and get what they want because they have a higher understanding of the truth and the reasons behind “the right way to be.” The countertop of the Ones, they are more impulsive and outwardly angry – they go against the ‘counter-instinctive” tendency of the One to repress anger and impulses. 

What Ones Can Do to Address Their Personality Patterns: Observe the “improvement paradox” (constant striving for improvement keeps you resistant to real growth), accept the perfection of imperfection, relax the inner critic, understand there are many “right” ways to do things, don’t be so hard on yourself, develop more compassion for and acceptance of yourself, prioritize pleasure and play, incorporate more humor and relaxation, own your positive attributes and value your feelings 

[lordofthestrix]

“So, I am a ghost. To you, I’m a ghost. We’re all ghosts to you. We must be nothing.“ (olga realizing her mortality?)

“One should never underestimate the limitless capacity of any clever mind to reach the most fundamentally wrong conclusion.” Tristan reminded himself with something strangely akin to nostalgia. Musing over her sudden theory as if it had reminded him of the amusement experienced by a long forgotten joke, but not the words themselves. Craving to share the experience and yet somewhat unable.

“Are you trying to contemplate the world through my eyes? Perhaps it would serve you to know that emotions visit my kind with much fiercer passion. For all the tales describing us as undead echoes of what once was, the truth is quite different. Nothing is lost. If anything, our soul is set ablaze. Where once happiness resided now there is unparalleled joy. Sadness transmutes into gelid grief and curiosity becomes feral intrigue. You can hardly blame humanity for failing to facilitate me with any words to describe love or hate to you. Even the most inspired of mortal dreamers can only suspect a spark of our raging infernos. And so we rage. And so we bask. But most of all we thirst. We thirst for whatever our heart desires with endless, unimaginable, all consuming zeal. Some of us grow colder and harsher as craving creatures often do. Lighthouses forever guardian the interminable seas of eternity. Their blinding light ceaselessly seeking amidst the darkened waves. And what could a firefly, fated for only a few nights, possibly mean to a lighthouse? Is that the reasoning you are following?” Beyond the entertained remembrance Tristan found such notion distastefully atrocious.

“...I used to maintain a friendly competition against Marie Antoinette. We shared the same favorite painter, you see. Both of us very much determined to commission a greater number of her works. Élisabeth Louise Vigée Le Brun. I never cared much for portraits of myself except when it was her hand bringing them to life. I have seen the craftsmanship of talented artists refining their skill throughout centuries, some of them under my own wing, and yet none whose work captivated me like hers did. I doubt I could ever look at any piece in my collection again without the bittersweet realization that there is a missing portrait. What would have been her greatest challenge no doubt...To discover if she was capable of capturing the unrepeatable, sublime beauty of your features and spirit” The immortal made his point peripherally as he began to roam closer to her. 

“I used to have a close acquaintance called George, although he favored the more ostentatious lord Byron. He often invited a small number of friends and the occasional immortal to hedonistic respites where poetry, discussions, vehement disagreements, music and heartfelt reconciliations danced like fireworks upon their private nights. While most of his guests enjoy a grade of notoriety to this day, the sentiments, works and pondering expressed during these reunions only live through me now. But how I would have adored to bring you as my companion one of those agreed weekends extending into weeks...” He admitted an affectionate yearning in his tone.

“You are beginning to understand now? You fancy yourself a ghost in my eyes when the reality is that you are alive beyond the capricious whims of time and tide.” His hand gently raised her chin in both fondness and scolding. Then he leaned. Not to her lips perhaps only for knowing too well the poisonous addiction that they were. Instead he gallantly kissed her cheek with untold stories, approaching her ear afterwards to emphasize the genuine conclusion with an intimate whisper.

“A star has no place believing herself among lighthouses and fireflies. And you?...You are now a complete constellation forever burning my sky. You are eternal already. And no form of immortality you may choose would ever be beyond your reach. Forget that again under your own risk.” He devilishly reprimanded her in teasing warning, withdrawing only enough to look into her eyes.

“Do we understand each other... Mon ciel étoilé?”

@noblehcart

[monstersdownthepath]

Spiritual Spotlight: Kurgess the Strong Man

Neutral Good God of Bravery, Competition, and Sports

Domains Community, Good, Luck, Strength, Travel Subdomains Agathion, Competition, Family, Fate, Home, Resolve, Self-Realization, Trade

Inner Sea Faiths, pg. 64~69

Obedience: Find the nearest boulder, log, or other unattended object that you can reliably lift over your head, and hold it up high for the duration of the obedience while meditating on the ennobling nature of sports and tests of physical might. If you are interrupted at any time by any creature or person, you must challenge your interrupter to a contest of strength, speed, or stamina, with the boulder or another object of your obedience used as the main focus of the competition. Benefit: You gain a +2 sacred bonus on Acrobatics and Climb checks, regardless of who wins the competition.

Obedience: Be a jock. Auto-succeed if you’re a Str-based martial fighter. I appreciate that Kurgess allows even the physically weak to take part in this Obedience (the path to fitness can be walked by anyone after all), and through constant practice one hour each day, your noodle-armed nerd caster may yet gain some Str and Con from their dedication. It’s not a particularly intense workout, mind, but the dedication to doing it for an hour every single day is something the DM should reward! At least until their Str/Con reaches maybe 13, at which point more strenuous activities would be necessary to raise it higher.

Anyway, easy enough to do if you own literally any item or have access to something you can grab and lift. You may look a little kooky doing it, but other Obediences get much weirder than just doing squats and lifts with whatever you have laying around. You’ll just be the local health nut! One who’s weirdly into challenging people to sudden competitions. Your party may quickly learn not to interrupt your meditation lest they get pulled into a 80s training montage, but if some poor citizen or wandering monster prods at you, you’re spurred on by your god to challenge them. Note that this says any creature, so even a non-sapient creature that was just snuffling around gets challenged, even if it can’t understand you.

No word on what happens if the intruder declines the challenge, or cannot accept it in the first place. Maybe you just automatically win? Not very sportsmanlike to declare yourself a victor like that, but it’s also not very sportsmanlike to force someone else into a competition they want no part of. I’m sure Kurgess will understand; not everyone is built for the life you’ve chosen to live!

Benefit’s bad. It’s half the strength of other benefits on two skill checks that are rarely important (Acrobatics can be extremely useful but isn’t as flexible as, say, Knowledge or Sleight of Hand). And... god, you know. I like Kurgess as an actual character, but this benefit is just a small taste of what’s to come. Brace yourselves, because it’s going to get pretty bad from here on out. 

Boons are acquired slowly: the first once you reach 12 hit dice, the second at 16, and the third at 20. However, the Evangelist, Exalted, and Sentinel Prestige Classes can be entered as early as level 5; doing so grants you the Boons at levels 8, 11, and 14 instead. As Kurgess is a true deity, you earn the right to enter the classes earlier than those who serve fiends!

-------- EVANGELIST --------

Boon 1: Blessed Runner. Gain Longstrider 3/day, Cat’s Grace 2/day, or Haste 1/day.

Starting strong, at least! I’m talking of course about Haste, whose power as a buff is nearly incomparable and useful at pretty much every level of play. Longstrider adds a comparatively meager +10ft to your land speed, and Cat’s Grace gives its target +4 to their Dexterity, and though they have a duration that’s an order of magnitude longer than Haste (Longstrider especially, lasting an hour/level), their functions don’t hold a candle to the extra damage output you and your martial allies get from Haste. The only competition it really has here is if two of your allies need increased Dexterity stats for a good long while, but you’ll never see me turning Haste down whenever it’s offered.

Boon 2: Strong One. You gain a +2 sacred bonus on all Strength-based skill checks. 

Just skill checks? Not even Strength checks in general? Eurgh. Couldn’t even spring for, like, just a +2 to Strength.

Strength-based skills are Climb, Swim, and... wait, what? It’s just Climb and Swim? Well, congratulations I guess. At level 11 you’re finally getting that +4 to Climb checks you should have been getting at baseline. Absolutely--ok you know what? Here’s what I’ll do.

--Patch Notes: Strong One now grants a +4 sacred bonus to Acrobatics, Climb, Escape Artist, Ride, and Swim checks. There! Now it rolls thematically into the Darechaser Prestige Class and is actually good! Not the best Boon out there, but on par with what some Evangelists get.

Boon 3: Farmer’s Brawn. Treat your carrying capacity as though your Strength ability score were 3 points higher than it actually is. 1/day as long as you are wearing light, medium, or no armor, you can lift up to two unconscious or dead Medium or smaller creatures and their equipment onto your shoulders and still move up to your base speed, ignoring the added weight. You cannot both attack and move in the same round while carrying one or more creatures in this way. You can carry these bodies in this way for a number of rounds equal to your Hit Dice; afterward, they encumber you as normal.

The amplified carrying capacity grants you, on average, about 25 more lbs to your maximum load depending on how high your Str was before. Neat! This should have been part of Strong One, though, even with my little buff. Also, carrying capacity rarely matters at the level you get this ability at, either because of Bags of Holding or because nothing really becomes worth carrying aside from what you already have. Aside, I suppose, from unconscious allies.

This is just... A flat bonus to Strength would have been better than whatever this is. An emergency tool of rescue, I suppose, Combine with Longstrider or Haste to grab your fallen allies and get out of there! Oh, wait, no, because “still move up to your base speed.” So there goes that. Also, despite the fact they don’t encumber you, you’re still basically staggered while carrying them (you can still take two move actions, though!). ALSO also, this ability only lasts for around a minute and a half, which is pathetic if you’re using this ability for its intended function (narrowly escaping a complete party wipe); it’s likely to cut out about halfway out of the Evil Lair.

I suppose there’s the utility of just picking up whole entire enemy bodies and running off with them, but seriously, just...

--Patch Notes: Farmer’s Brawn now reads “Gain a +4 sacred bonus to your Strength. Once per day, you may carry two Medium or smaller creatures or corpses and all of their worn equipment without counting them towards your encumbrance for 1 minute per HD you possess.” 

-------- EXALTED --------

Boon 1: Holy Strength. Gain Enlarge Person 3/day, Bull’s Strength 2/day, or Rage 1/day.

Oh hey! All three of these are good and useful at any level! Rage can whip a whole party into a frenzy at once, giving them +1 to attack and damage rolls with melee weapons and giving them +1 HP per HD they have, at the comparatively minor (but still noteworthy) cost of -2 AC. Having a legion of summoned creatures, some hirelings, or just a party with a decent number of martial fighters can expand Rage’s usefulness even further... but a meager +1 to a whole lot of people is only useful if you, well, HAVE a lot of people. If you don’t? Bull’s Strength gives +2 to attack and damage rolls for minutes at a time, and has the added utility of beefing up someone’s carrying capacity and skill at lifting and throwing things around.

Enlarge Person is really the way to go if you have (or are) a powerful melee fighter on your side, though. A nice +2 to Strength is secondary to the delicious, tasty +5ft of reach, letting the target hold a much greater area within their threat radius. Knowing that you always have this spell on hand (3/day with a 1 min/level duration basically means you have it every time you need it) can prompt your primary tanks to take feats like Pin Down and Step Up to make themselves into inescapable tar pits of pain.

All three of these are good and flexible choices! Excellent! Now lets see what else Exalted can do...

Boon 2: Coordinated Escape: 3/day as a standard action, you can shout an inspirational command that affects you and any allies within 60 feet for a number of rounds equal to your Hit Dice. During this time, affected characters can use the withdraw action to move up to triple their base speed (instead of up to double their base speed).

... run away real good, apparently? The ability is described as showing Kurgess’ wisdom, fleeing from a fight that cannot be won rather than standing and accomplishing nothing, but like. He’s the god of bravery! Eurgh. At least there’s the amusing use of using withdraw to get CLOSER, since it essentially gives you an extra move action. And, for what it’s worth, it IS a decent escape tool, provided the enemy you’re running from has no way to catch up with you or slow you down. Much like the original Farmer’s Brawn, this ability just kind of doesn’t represent a god of sports and athleticism, which is what drives me nuts.

... well now that I think about it, using it exclusively for a sporting event like football or some other “keep-away” type game would be hilarious. But, still:

--Patch Notes: Coordinated Escape has been renamed to “Audacious Escape” and now reads “3/day as a standard action, you can shout an inspirational command that affects you and any allies within 60 feet of you. Any creature affected by this command can move at double their movement speed for one minute, and while they’re affected by this ability, their movement does not provoke Attacks of Opportunity.” Capped the time limit and shrank the movement buff, but made it a far more powerful defensive OR offensive tool.

Boon 3: Break the Anvil: 1/day, you can perform a disarm or sunder combat maneuver with a +4 competence bonus against an adjacent creature and a weapon it holds. If you succeed, the creature’s weapon is simultaneously damaged and disarmed, as though you had succeeded at both combat maneuvers simultaneously. If you exceed the target’s Combat Maneuver Defense by 10 or more, the target drops the items it is carrying in both hands, but you only sunder the weapon you initially targeted. If you don’t have either the Improved Disarm or Improved Sunder feat or a similar ability, this attempt provokes attacks of opportunity as normal; however, if you have one of the feats or a similar ability, this attempt does not provoke attacks of opportunity.

Alright I’ll admit, this is a... well, it’s not a complete letdown. It can be pretty good! Or, it would be better if it were attached to the Sentinel, rather than the caster-focused Exalted. And also if you could use it more than once. Needing to invest in Improved [X] (or at least Dirty Fighting) to avoid being slapped for your attempt to do something cool is also kind of a letdown. Now, I’ll admit, sundering at this level is very difficult to actually make viable, as most enemies you’ll face will have either enchanted weapons (which are very difficult to damage), skymetal weapons (again, difficult to damage), enchanted weapons made of skymetal (basically impossible to damage without one of your own), or no weapons at all (either because they use natural attacks, or use magic)... but that’s why this ability is also attached to disarm, which IS viable even at high levels, because knocking an enemy’s weapon from their hands and allowing an ally to pilfer it can render a great many foes impotent.

It does also require you to be adjacent to someone, though, which means you, the caster, must put yourself in arm’s reach of an enemy. And probably the BIGGEST weakness is that enemy CMD at levels 15+ can get ridiculous, so you’re going to have to focus at least part of your build on it, augmented by either spells or feats or, more than likely, both. The +4 bonus you get from Break the Anvil--which I have to admit is a really good name--is certainly some help here, but you’ll still need to build around it if you really want it to work.

--Patch Notes: Break the Anvil can now be done 3/day.

-------- SENTINEL --------

Boon 1: Master of Games. Gain True Strike 3/day, Bear’s Endurance 2/day, or Heroism 1/day.

It’s been one week and True Strike is still bad, even for the martial-focused Sentinel. Let’s just ignore that.

Bear’s Endurance is the weakest and least flexible of the ‘animal aspect’ spells, granting a +4 bonus to Con which translates to a whopping +2 HP per HD and +2 to Fortitude saves, and basically nothing else. It’s a bandage when someone’s suffering from disease or resisting a poison, and while it may occasionally save someone from being Blood Drained to death, it doesn’t justify taking Endurance over Heroism.

Heroism is a great buff to just use on yourself right before entering the final stretch of a dungeon, or even just after entering the front door. It’s a +2 bonus to attack rolls, skill checks, and most importantly saving throws and lasts for a tremendous 10 min/level, meaning it lasts two hours when you first get it and only rises from there. There’s no reason to take anything but Heroism, and little reason to not have it running the instant you enter hostile territory.

Boon 2: Reveal Frauds: You can, as an immediate action, activate Discern Lies as a spell-like ability. You can maintain this ability for a number of rounds per day equal to your Hit Dice, but these rounds do not have to be consecutive.

I had originally wished this ability had been granted to the Exalted instead... but a character going into Exalted likely started as a Cleric, so their Wisdom is probably already sky high and augmenting their Sense Motive to similarly heavenly levels. Thus, Sentinels gaining this power isn’t as bad as I initially thought, especially since it can be used as an immediate action in response to someone opening their lying gob to speak. Discern Lies doesn’t reveal the truth, nor will it ping you if the target is being evasive or changing the subject (such as by answering your question with a question of their own), so you have to keep on top of that. That being said, this ability has three advantages the vanilla spell sorely lacks which elevates it from ‘sometimes good’ to ‘indispensable:’

1) The lack of components means there’s absolutely no tell that you’re using this ability, aside from perhaps you focusing too hard on them. That means your target has no idea you’re using magic to read their speech; they may conclude you’re simply that good at reading their tells.

2) The casting time of “immediate action” means you can use it right when someone talks, rather than needing to prepare it beforehand. You can catch them in a falsehood without alerting them to the fact you’ve done anything supernatural.

3) The on-off nature of the ability means a hostage you’ve taken can’t simply wait out the duration of the spell. You can shut it off the instant they stop speaking and turn it back on when they start again; a canny caster may know the duration of the vanilla Discern Lies, but your version can be raised or lowered more or less at will.

While it won’t truly help you in a fight, this makes you an amazing interrogator, and not even necessarily a mean one! Just throw your arm around some badguy’s shoulder in the middle of a party or a bar and chat them up all friendly-like, sniffing their every word for a hint of falsehood. Sometimes, knowing what’s false helps narrow down what’s true.

--Patch Notes: None. Good as-is!

Boon 3: Unchained Savior 1/day as an immediate action, if an ally within 60 feet of you would normally take enough damage to fall unconscious or die, you can move to an adjacent space and intercept the killing blow, taking the damage in your ally’s place. If the attack would have inflicted any effects other than hit point damage, those effects are negated. If the damage would bring you to negative hit points, you are brought to 0 hit points instead, and the remaining damage is negated. Any attacks of opportunity you provoke by moving in this way are resolved after you take the damage from the intercepted blow; you take any damage from those attacks as normal.

Ohohoho, it’s been nearly two years since we’ve seen a Boon like this! Unlike Milani’s Martyrdom, though, this ability has a MUCH shorter range, a MUCH more restrictive activation condition (it only activates in response to damage!), and doesn’t save your life if you fall in the line of duty.

But you know what? It’s still a damn solid power. Your tankiness will absolutely allow you to survive a blow that could outright kill an ally of yours, but even if the attack COULD crunch you instantly, Unchained Savior flat out stops your HP from going below 0 from excess damage. 1000 damage, 100 damage, or even just 1 extra damage are all turned to Nothing as soon as your HP hits 0, AND this ability negates all extra effects from the attack, such as diseases, poisons, or additional spell effects. This, very importantly, means that even the dusting effects of Disintegrate and Destruction are negated!

Leap in the way of that 40d6 damage without fear! Well okay, SOME fear, since being dropped to 0 still means you’re unconscious. Unless you have Diehard or Ferocity. Y’know what? If your martial build doesn’t have Diehard, it probably should if you’re gonna walk around as an Unchained Savior! Just imagine the look on your enemy’s face when you tank their best shot and just keep coming.

Oh, also, since this power puts you adjacent to your ally, you’re probably now in slapping range with whatever attacked them in the first place. Draw your javelin and show them that you can give just as well as you take!

--Patch Notes: None! A 10/10 ability, Kurgess! Now if only you had this power while you were still a mortal, eh? Haha ... ha... ha... hwoof....

You can read more about him here.