#kylowrecked

It was so cold here. Jakku had cold nights, all the warmth leached out of the sand and air, no one but herself for body heat under a think blanket. But the air here was intrinsically cold, she assumed because of all the cold-looking water. Everything was cold, or cool. Fortunately she'd found the blankets stashed away on the Falcon, and even better some warmer clothes.

It was while tugging on a sweater (by the size, she guessed it to be Han's) that she felt everything go silent.

" ben solo you are playing a game you cannot win. " did he think she would really answer that? what she wanted the dream to be about and what he'd hesitate to admit.

he'd probably tell her she was wrong and that it was simply that he dreamt she were the color purple. cheeky. but she wasn't shy.

CULLEN IS TIRED. However, with the air of humoring an inquisitive small child:

"One of what tests, Ben?"

They intersect in the bleeds of twilights. If she bares it until pure morning light, she's certain he'll fade from sight altogether. There's little to comfort in testing that theory in real time. Sooner, somehow, she thinks she could expire before results.

Especially if he wishes it so. And she'd think he would.

The way he speaks starts making abhorrence sound romantic. He straddles another line. Where words can give abhorrence a romantic flare ... cater to it even. When intimacy can be found in repel, in torture. The poets would agree. On some strange, lonely days she can, too.

⸺ today, and.

And.

And her thoughts flinch.

She's said so much in saying nothing for so long.

❛ I apologize. I did not mean to. ❜

Her feelings are tossed to the backburner as troopers enter the throne room. She turns from the carnage and looks to their blasters. She expects to die, because isn’t that what she deserves? But then they drop their weapons and bow down on one knee. Her quivering lip stills. Her eyes filled with both tears that burn her scraped up cheeks and hesitation.

“Supreme Leader Snoke is dead.” Her voice seems like it comes from someone else. “Killed by the resistance.” The lie slides off her tongue and tastes like bile, but they believe. “Have the men clean up the body and prepare a small funeral. The war truly begins now.”

It’s so easy to blame someone else. Even if it makes her stomach turn. She knows what she did. She knows that she’s guilty. Even as she goes to her quarters and scrubs at her skin. Even when the water turns clear again. She knows. She doesn’t know what else to do. She knows not who to turn to. Until she thinks of him. Kylo. Ren. One but two and the same and she has to see him.

He’ll understand.

It’s easy enough to get her ship ready. Easy enough to find him on her lonesome. When she steps off the ship, she knows he knows she’s come to see him. Could he feel it? The way the force bent and weaved from the violent death? She knows he knows. They know.

She doesn’t bother with the helmet. Smashed it to pieces in her bedroom. Her fingertips covered in bandages from the cuts it bred. It doesn’t matter. All that matters now is seeing him.

Kylo, where are you?

brb I woke up to this this is such a nice message wtf

me when someone also loves the great love of my life

Classical Literature Meme

"--D'pends th'sort'a invitations" Ron mused, considering the bottom of his empty tumbler; wondering if he could risk another before making his way home. He settled on a firm maybe, and fixed instead on Ben's query. "If we're talkin' a party invite, them I don't turn dahn f'nuffin'-" Not true, but not a harmful fib either. He could live with that if it meant projecting the species of affable that might earn his bar downtown some trade. "Bu' if we're talkin' roman'ic invitations, advances, wha'evah y'wanna call it..."

Those...

Those hit different.

A lick'a flirtation never went amiss, granted. Ron was just that sort of chap; at ease with himself, liberal with a compliment if in his opinion one's deserved; a bit of a rogue, but respectful with it. Woe betide a letch at work in his vicinity. They'd come off second best and had. This weren't no bluff. But that aside and beyond his friendly, East End Charming nature lay walls so high they'd kiss cloud cover on an open sky, not a cloud in it day. There beyond lay all which Ron wanted not to exist about himself; the crippling paranoia, delusions, psychosis and their cause which he'd not name in polite company because, so he'd learned from those closest to him upon his diagnosis, the word terrified people. And it made them terrified of him. So while he couldn't at all get rid of the cause of his ills, he could manage it as best he could, cope his way through socialisation in a way that kept the bulk of the symptoms he couldn't help but have minimised, and keep people well out of the range of what-all that very much proverbial wall had behind it. Because they'd be terrified of him if they found out, wouldn't they. Just like his mum had been, and his brothers had been, and the rest and that--

It'd hurt beyond his ability to stand it when his family turned.

Off someone he loved and wanted as his, always? It didn't bear thought.

-5/10. My deepest apologies but I'm going to shoot your boat out of the water.

Obi was 25 when he met 9 year old Anakin and and basically raised him, being his Jedi Master and all. Everything about pairing the two makes me uncomfortable, I’d say Obi-wan is like an older brother who raised his kid brother.