#madestoried

Ben could not shake the feeling that he was being watched. It must be paranoia and maybe he should talk to his sponsor once again about these things. He opened his apartment and looked at the empty street. He really was imagining all of it. He pulled the lapel of his coat together and made his way to his job. 

He wouldn’t stop looking at her, and Rey knew sooner or later she’d crack and spill her guts. Anyone else, and she could hold her own, even if her poker face wasn’t the best; no one could keep a secret like she could. Luke and Han – and Leia – however, they had that gift no one else did of making her want to tell them everything. Except for one thing, which she’d inadvertently told Luke anyway, and now it seemed it had bled over into her interactions with Han.

Unexpectedly, Han’s words only made her want to cry and she rapidly blinked to hold back the tears. Rey had never known unconditional love before Luke had taken her in, and sometimes she still couldn’t quite believe she’d found such a thing, let alone with multiple people. Ironically it only served to make her want to work harder and not fail them, and this felt like a sort of failing.

Fidgeting a few moments more, she glanced downward as she finally blurted it all out. “I had a sort of dream about B–someone, and Luke saw it” she said in a rush, her words spilling out in a breath. Han didn’t need to know the specifics, he could take what he needed from the broad strokes and hopefully he would let it be.

      Whatever it was that Han expected, it hadn’t been that.  In fact, it was nowhere near something as private as a ...  ❝Wait, wh-what?❞  spluttered Han, his shoulders jerking up in shock.  Had he stood two inches closer to the drink-synth, he would’ve slammed his elbow.  ❝You had a dream—an’ Luke saw it?❞

      Although skepticism fastened to his tone, Han knew better than distrust Rey.  It was the Force ( wasn’t it always? ).  More than once had Luke explained to Han the importance of a force bond, how it could influence a student’s development and maturity, as well as aid in keeping an eye on them.  To tell the truth, Han never liked the concept of a teacher-student bond.  His struggle to adjust to Luke’s  ( new and initially, startling )  presence in his head had been bad enough, but a figure of authority—a parental figure?  Over his dead body; Han refused to even imagine.  At least, Luke was his bondmate and best friend ...

madestoried

i-rebeljyn

acharmingbird

eveycomesundone

asparkofgrace

shehcpe

fissarsi

killthebxy

screams at slept so long

madestoried liked your post “bencannolikenobi: ok my lovely peeps I’m still having Sith feels rn…”

It had been a slow day for the Emperor, and mostly tedious clean up from the mishandling his father had done before he had to be disposed of at that.  So it was a complete shock when a flash of blinding purple light engulfed his office, his right hand man completely gone once the light faded.  Instead, there was a young woman practically singing in the Force with her presence looking just as bewildered as he felt.

Send ✿ for my muse to climb into bed with yours late at night. || @madestoried || selectively accepting.

He never could manage to fall asleep in a cot. There’s something too rigid about it, no matter the location: Rebellion, First Order, laboratories. Khan’s never quite been able to tackle the issue, instead curbing it by simply not sleeping at all, not until exhaustion takes him completely, or if he’s forced to patch himself up and avoid properly bleeding out all over the place. 

There’s no admitting it, and likely there never will be, but tonight he tries for her. They’ve been sharing the room for a while now, and he knows that she sleeps as little as he does, and that when the darkness does take her, it manifests as nightmares. Silence speaks the loudest-- it’s her turn to ask him to stay, and he does, letting himself lay like a dead man on the opposite bed, like his presence alone might be enough to slay the monsters in her mind. 

A routine: shallow breathing, nails clawing against the sheets until the fabric is balled in her fists; the inevitable start when she bolts upward. Since he met her, he’s thought it safer to stay silent simply because he knows that sometimes speaking of ghosts calls them to haunt, and both of them have had enough dead and lost things to last a lifetime. 

Send 🌑 to crawl into bed with my muse