#my next reylo ff

[userpeggycarter]

your 'won't reblog' list is so funny imagine being a loser who hates fun that much. imagine being such a sad little butt baby you can't interact with anyone who likes things you don't. couldn't be me!

wow. i don't even know where to begin.

it's kinda hilarious that **I** am the sad little butt baby but you're the one having a meltdown in my inbox? being butthurt because a stranger has a "won't reblog" section in their about page????? do you have self awareness??? read that second to last sentence I just typed again. read it. HOW CAN YOU NOT GET IT???? 😱

second of all, the "won't reblog" section is a guideline for tagging me on posts. i don't reblog that stuff for a reason. it's not a DNI. in fact, I do interact with people who reblog and make content about (some of) that stuff listed in my blog because the morals of media consumption are complicated and very personal. some things i draw a very hard line on, some i don't. let me explain each of those "forbidden media" in my blog for you in basic terms like I'm talking to a child (because i am):

Wizarding World: JK Rowling is a TERF, an antisemite and a racist. i thought this one was self-explanatory. it's 2023 ffs

MCU!Maximoffs are white-washed, anti-romani and very antisemitic. google that stuff if you don't know. next question. (i did reblog a MCU Wanda gifset recently btw, but a mutual tagged me on it and i felt awkward ignoring it, but when that happens i tag those posts with #mcu wanda because some people blacklist that tag and for good reason. also it's a subtle way to say I'm not okay with her. i wish these awkward situations didn't happen but they do and i like to support creators, despite your allegations that i don't.

starker is a p*do ship. thorki is inc*st. duh

ngl reylo is not necessarily problematic i just think it's lame lol maybe it shouldn't be on the list because all of that other stuff has serious problems (IN MY OPINION!)

red/orange/color-washed content is racist if done with POC (and it's even a bad look if you're dealing with white people, to a lesser extent ofc)

i don't need to explain johnny depp do i? christ

henry cavill dated a teenager. google it

the last of us's creator is anti palestine and pro genocide.

elizabeth olsen said the G slur on air in the Graham Norton show AFTER he told her it was a slur!!!!!!!!!!! again google it.

gal gadot is also anti palestine. remember the IDF cunt post? iconic

taylor swift: same thing with reylo, i'm just not interested in her, even though she's not exactly a saint either... but honestly i put TS on the list mostly because most of the gifmaker community loves her and i was worried people would tag me on TS content and that would be an uncomfortable situation, because i don't like to ignore tagged posts but also i like to have boundaries/preferences, even though YOU deem them silly or stupid (like if that's your right to do so lmao alexa play toxic by britney spears)

i'm betting money it was the taylor swift thing that pissed you off lol maybe mcu wanda???? both?

stolen/reposted content is also self-explanatory right? or are you that stupid? considering the tantrum i think you are but hope springs eternal i guess...

LAST, but not least, i'm gonna end on a positive note because unlike you I'm not a cunt (derogatory). I'm gonna address your first message here:

listen, i get it. i get frustrated with notes too. the grass is always greener and there's always a bigger fish i guess. you envy me and i envy other creators bigger than me. but we shouldn't do that. first of all, it's not a competition. my "success" (it's tumblr at the end of the day... silly stuff!) is not a threat to you or anyone else. people can reblog my gifs and yours, they don't have to pick a creator. unfortunately, tumblr has been suffering from lack of interaction lately and it's just getting worse. all creators are complaining about it. creators of different sizes and different niches, btw. we complain in private and in public. and what tumblr does in return? text posts complaining about us complaining get 50k notes in a day. it's tough. we shouldn't be treated this way, even though no one is obliged to reblog stuff and we aren't owed notes. but it's natural and fair to feel sad about lack of recognition and complain about. tumblr's lack of engagement is going to kill the website, but that's a conversation to another day.

i want to end with this:

you need to create because you want to create. you need to create because you want to get better at your craft. recognition is good and it's natural to want and feel upset about the lack of it, but it shouldn't kill your creative spirit. social media has poisoned our brains. 50 notes might not sound a lot but imagine 50 people in real life complimenting you. you might be someone's favorite creator. you might be a niche creator who is carrying your community on your back and people in that niche are so grateful for you, even though they don't say that. because unfortunately, hate speaks louder than love. case in point, this hate mail. for every one of you out there, there must be 10 people who like my work. but i never hear from them and that sucks, but i must believe that they exist and be thankful for them. sometimes people will recognize my hard work and i'm very grateful for those moments. they do motivate me, but they aren't the only thing that motivates me. making posts i wanna reblog but won't exist until i make them motivates me. getting better at my craft motivates me. making friends because of my craft motivates me. knowing i'm entertaining people (even though they're very silent about their appreciation of my work) motivates me. tumblr is a social media platform and social media is made by its users. if anyone stopped posting, there wouldn't be anything to do here. my gifset might not change the trajectory of someone's day (sometimes it does!), but it's my drop of water alongside thousands of other drops of water from other users that make this ocean that we all swim in. don't give up. keep making gifs. you will get better at them. people will follow you. you will get more notes. might not be enough followers or enough notes in your opinion, but we shouldn't put a number on our value.

and let me tell you a secret: when your goal is numbers, you're never satisfied. believe me, i learned this lesson. i thought i would be happy with hundreds of followers. then i got hundreds of followers. suddenly they weren't enough, i wanted thousands of followers now. and then i got them. guess what? i still seek validation through numbers (google David Foster Wallace's This is Water btw). but it will never be enough because you are now and i was then looking at the wrong solution to the problem. i need to FEEL enough, not be told by numbers or people that I'm enough. I'm the one that decides that. and i am enough. I'm good, even. hell, I'm great. and in theory, so do you, but god that attitude... it ain't it. it will only cause you pain. and worse, it's causing you to try to cause pain in others. isn't that sad? isn't that shameful? i do say try because newsflash pussycat, it didn't work. i was baffled by your hate (thankfully i don't get a lot of hate around here!), but i wasn't hurt. because I'm not threatened by your perception of me. because it's superficial, childish, hateful, you name it. i know myself. i love myself. in the words of my beloved URL namesake, i know my value. do you know yours? it doesn't seem like you do. and that type of attitude only lessens your value, babe. this is not getting you anywhere in tumblr or worse, in life.

this would be the moment in which i would wish you the best, but you know what? fuck you. i hope you get no notes until eternity. but in case an innocent person is reading this and is also battling with their self-worth due to tumblr notes: i wish you the best. don't give up.

[chele20035]

AO3 and fanfic. net...

So... while AO3 is recovering (I hope!) all of my works, both everlark and reylo are still on ff. net. I need to post my newest one, The Field Trip (reylo). I’ll also have another new one either next week or the week after too. Both places and well, everywhere I’m chele20035 including thread and twitter. Here’s a link to ff. net. 

https://www.fanfiction.net/~chele20035

And yes, AO3 being down sucks. I do hope they will and can recover. I’ve read that the other sites they did this too was able to recover completely. So as we all know, where there’s hope-- 

And even after all these years, I can��t stop writing about a bakery... look for the short story coming out in September from me (part of an anthology) called Seven Days. And one of them owns a bakery. 

And that’s Posey and Lulu for tax. 

[goodsindi]

Woa now I want to write a Persuasion AU Reylo. Why? Because it's my favourite book by Jane Austen.

A story about second chances...

Persuasion

You pierce my soul, I am half agony, half hope…

I have loved none but you.

                   - Jane Austen

[janiedean]

Just seen a post like "y r reylos upset? they kissed. I have a ship where they don't even meet" and I was ready to go "I Don't Know How To Explain To You That knowingly shipping a crackship and seeing a ship that's been set up since the beginning get turned into some emotionally manipulative little trick by hacks who dgaf abt the characters and only want to cash in on every single part of the fandom are very different things." But I gave up. Not worth the effort.

it’s not, but... honestly?

this thing is... like... I don’t want to say mildly worrying me, but... it is. (beware the next post won’t probably make much sense but bear with me this thing isn’t sitting well with me lmao)

I mean, like, let’s get it out of the way that I didn’t care for reylo either way until tlj and post-tlj I was like ‘oh okay they’re definitely the romance of the trilogy fine sounds nice I’ll be here being happy for them when they inevitably kiss’, because it’s like.. star... wars. I mean. sw is like the one franchise that until five days ago I’d have cashed in on being the ONE thing that would always end up cheesy/hopeful/not disappointing you know, so... I didn’t even consider that there was another way it could end. because it’s goddamn sw, redemption stories with happy endings are the damned brand.

so like... the fact that the thing was obviously set up and they tore it to shreds along with everything else in the movie is bad. like, bad. but people who didn’t realize how fucking insulting it was just... don’t seem to get that the moment you go watch movies whose brand is making you feel better about things and they turn into calvinism central NO HAPPINESS ALLOWED and they don’t even do it with sense - bc rots made no fucking sense at any point ever and that’s outside reylo - it just... makes you feel betrayed? like, again: in 2015 when I came out of the cinema the only thing I banked on was poe dameron not dying and I couldn’t care either way about kylo ren, but like - tlj made me care. as it was supposed to be. I was supposed to care about kylo ren’s pull to the light and guess what I did because that movie wanted me to, and it wanted me to do 2+2 and realize that he and rey were soulmates and fine I was down with that because I like myself a nice love story.

and then like... you give it to me, like that, and the moment you have the character who has had a shitty life, has been groomed since he was born if not before by Worst Person In The Galaxy if the new canon wants me to buy that - or by snoke but it’s the same -, is an abuse victim and is 100% sure that everyone hates him and no one understands him or wants to understand him, you make that character related to one of the most iconic ones in the franchise to the point that you tried to make han every other member of the trio tbh, you actually have that character taking his life in his hands after talking to han and like embrace what he always wanted to be and show that he’s actually happy with it (like ffs guys it’s also probs because adam driver is an excellent actor but you can see the ben solo vs kylo ren difference in the span of five seconds, and you’re supposed to root for ben solo to win ffs), have him actually win, have him being happy for the first time in the entire canon and then you kill him a second later with rey in tears over it except that then we forget to give him a funeral........... like.......... sorry but I feel robbed because as lowkey as my effort on banking on ben solo’s redemption was because I was sure it was coming and I took it for granted it still felt like they were being unnecessarily cruel. like, they could have killed him in ten other ways that wouldn’t make you feel like someone stabbed you in the kidney as another anon put it. but no, let’s give people the prospect of HEY THEY’LL BE HAPPY just to tear it away from them ten seconds later. like, what the fuck? that’s not what anyone signed up for.

especially when the entire thing was obviously set up for the happy ending. like, if you actually misread the audience so much that you think star wars audience wants grimdark when it’s a movie marketed at children then you don’t deserve the money you’re most likely getting paid.

like, again: as someone who wasn’t even diehard reylo or whatever even if I absolutely shipped it, I felt like these assholes took my money and punched me in the kidney since rey palpatine was a thing and the moment he died I about screamed fuck you out loud... along with most of the entire room which was screaming fuck you, because guess what, not a single person in that room actually was banking on the ben solo redemption to fail and each single person in the room was clapping when they kissed because we were fucking waiting for it already, and like......... obviously ppl shipping it are upset. they were given an unsatisfactory movie up until then that didn’t give the characters justice but which could have still been more or less decent if it saved the spirit of the entire thing... which it didn’t because sw is not fucking calvinist central and hasn’t ever been until now. and then they were given canon after being the target of the vilest shit (guys seriously I unfollowed antireylo people way before shipping reylo myself bc that crap was out of line for shipping fictional stuff)... just to have them take it away by killing the one character that was there to show you that there’s always hope for you to do the right thing?

like, let’s be fucking real: the message is that if you fucked up and want to be better it won’t ever be enough because sorry but you’ll never get another good start and if you care about someone who fucked up and want to help them be better it’s wasted time because people who want to do better can’t actually live and have a chance to keep on doing it.

and sorry but fuck that message with a chainsaw. the beautiful thing about this ship imvho was that in tlj it made it overtly clear how rey helped him out of being a genuinely nice person who listened to someone who thought no one ever would and at the same time kylo/ben couldn’t believe that someone actually said that he wouldn’t be alone either bc the two of them are extremely lonely people and feel that acutely....... and they even threw in the soul bond to make it extra obvious. it was a hopeful story because you had girl who never had anyone who was also innately good who could put her prejudices aside to see that someone who also went dark side because he thought no one loved him and then kept on being abused his entire life actually had good inside them and wanted to help him see that instead of writing him off as a lost cause. like. that was a good romance. nothing exceedingly new under the sun, but in sw it was pretty fresh and a good spin compared to the two other main love stories of the trilogy. also, anakin/padme was what it was and han/leia was immensely better but hey someone decided to kill off the entire original trio so whatever... and if these two ended well they’d have been a constant improvement, never mind the symbolism - you had anakin who was a no one and married a space princess but ended up tragically because he went to the dark side and she could do nothing for him, then anakin’s daughter who was a space princess and married han who is also technically a no one since he didn’t even have a surname on his home planet, and if rey/ben had actually not.. had that ending you’d have closed the circle with space prince descended from both anakin and leia being brought back from the dark side with the help of another no one and finally the damned skywalker line would have gotten one 100% happy ending because it was supposed to be the ending.

like.

that’s something that thematically made so much sense I didn’t even think they wouldn’t do it.

and they did. and guess what of course people are pissed. because this movie about ignored themes, its own canon (from tfa and tlj) and didn’t accomplish one single thing except chewie getting his damned medal.

which, while something we all hoped would happen at some point, is hardly the one thing you should accomplish in a star wars movie supposed to end the goddamned cycle and which eventually ended up being prequel-level if not worse. because I mean, objectively I think the phantom menace was actually a better movie, and I would rewatch this over 2 and 3 just because the cgi in this movie didn’t hurt my eyes, but as bad as lucas got with the prequels, he never did a single character as dirty as disney did all the characters here. no, not even padme, and he did do padme dirty.

tldr: if people don’t get why you’d be pissed at how this movie ended idk what to tell them... but shit if it’s not worrying me that people apparently can’t get that it was a disaster on each single level it could have been. peace.

[lexinoctura]

You reblogged the Fanfiction questions so here you go: 😉

Fandom Questions:

1, 4, 10

Ship Questions for your Current Fandom

13, 14, 20

Author Questions

27, 32, 40

Fanfiction Questions

44, 50, 51

Gee, I always try to contain myself by asking, and there you come, whacking me over the head with 12 questions 😂😂 (Not complaining though!)

Thank you for asking :D

Okay, so Fandom Answers:

1. What was the first fandom you got involved in? -> I can't really remember��? I am pretty sure that it was the SG-1 Fandom because I wanted to know if Danny and Vala get together after the series final, but it also could have been "The Legend of the Seek", because back then I didn't know that it's based on a book, and DAMN did I want to see Kahlan and Richard together!

4. Do you regret getting involved in any fandoms? -> No, not really. Any fandom I followed or read FF of was pretty decent and had great stories, and there wasn't a big cliff between the different fractions of the fans :)

10. Is there a fandom you read fic from but don’t write in? -> Jup, plenty :D Though I always have ideas for stories in those fandoms, I am currently only writing for The100 and Star Wars, while I read Vampire Academy, Percy Jackson (every once in a while), Legend of the Seeker, and Stargate as well.

Now let's head to the Ship Answers ;)

13. Any NoTPs? -> Hmm, no… I do have my preferences, of course, but I do not hate any ships in particular. I just hugely dislike Finn of The100 Fandom, so whenever he has a major ship in the story, I am very careful if I really want to read it. But I do hate the ship of Kylo/Hux; I don't like Hux at all, and the way that Kylo treats him in canon just doesn't give me any idea whatsoever that there could be anything between them. That, and it stands between Reylo, soooo… :D

14. Go on, who are your BroTPs? -> Oh, I love the dynamics between Bellamy and Murphy in the100, and have a huge soft spot for Jack and Daniel in SG-1 :D

20. Any ships which you surprised yourself by liking? -> In the The100, I was really surprised that I like Murphy/Raven – just because I never saw the two of them like that – but the way some authors portray them is really good :) In Star Wars, I really like the Poe/Hux as a side note to my modern-AU stories. They never met in canon (as far as I recall) and therefore I like the creative dynamics that authors come up with for those two! :)

Next stop: Author Answers!

27. What do you hate more: Coming up with titles or writing summaries? -> Uhm… Both? Sometimes titles just fall into my lap and I can work with them and sometimes I just come up with a collection of words that make no sense whatsoever… Summaries are tough because I don't want to spoiler too much, but I want to tease a but, if that makes sense, but I also don't want to write a freaking essay like back in school 'what is this story about, write three pages and summaries your text in a short four-lines-final' -.-'

32. Do you listen to music when you write or does music inspire you? If so, which band or genre of music does it for you? -> Oh, yes! I listen to music pretty much all the time :) I have to adjust it a bit depending on the mood of the scene, and weirdly enough, I can't listen to any German songs (my mother tongue) if I write in English, otherwise, you just get very weird sentences! Hmm, lately I listen a lot to Rap from Tom MacDonald and Eminem, Pop or Punk like Pink or Three Days Grace, Soundtracks like Mamma Mia and Disney, etc. So, my music varies widely with no real idea where it's going 😅

40. What do you struggle the most with in your writing? -> Gee, I don't know… Probably anything that relates to romantic emotions, but that is because I am as emotional as a rock in that area 😅😅

Okay, and finally: FanFiction Answers :D

44. What ship do you feel needs more attention? -> I don't know… I am probably just one of the fans that follow the most popular/obvious ship in the fandoms…

50. How did you get into reading and/or writing fanfiction? -> Well, that is easy: I NEEDED ANSWERS!!! I wanted to know if they get together, what they did in the time between episodes, what that insider was about, etc… I just needed answers! :D And writing… I had that idea stuck in my head for the CW show Arrow, where the main character has nightmares (back then I had some really bad myself) and how he would still get to propose to his girlfriend, even though his demons called him worthless and chewed on his self-worth… It was a way of coping with my own problems, and if you read my stories and pay attention, you will pick up on some things that repeat themself or that are very vividly displayed. Those are the things I try to cope with through writing… 🤷🏽‍♀️

51. Rant or Gush about one thing you love or hate in the world of fanfiction! Go! -> I love our community! I love that there is something for everyone, no matter their taste or shipping or style. It's a way to find like-minded people and to get to connect with people who you can gush about the same things that you like. It is so great to see people publishing something and then get the opinion to it from others, to interact with the author and to just be connected to others. And as an author, it is so cool to get feedback from your readers, and to interact with them! I really love FF and the community around it :D

[capaldisrighteyebrow]

Unorthodox Auto Repair - A Reylo Fic

That time this video came up in chat and @mnemehoshiko made me have cracky Reylo thoughts about fixing car dents with dildos.Thanks to @spacedarcy for reading this over and helping me fix that pesky problem!

Links: FF | AO3 (ETA: Link added!)

Rey has a split second to make her choice: take the fall or chance an impact. If she swerves now, she'll have to lay down the 200 kilogram bike—not the best option under any circumstance, but a full-blown Bad Idea when sporting a mini dress and heels instead of proper leathers and boots. Damn Rose and her insistence that her bachelorette party should feel like Vegas despite taking place at the Tico family farm.

Option two doesn't give her much better odds: if she brakes now, she may not have the distance to spare before hitting the jackass sitting at the crossroads without so much as parking lights. Her only saving grace is that her heels paired with the unfamiliar country roads have tempered her lead foot. She's kept the engine between her thighs at an even purr instead of coaxing it to the delicious growl she loves to hear, because she does want to show up to Finn's wedding alive come morning.

Gritting her teeth, Rey makes her choice.

In the Porsche's insulated cabin, he almost doesn't hear the screeching tires. By the time he does, it's too late. The car lurches forward from the hit, though it only moves a few inches while parked. Ben scrambles up from his reclined seat, the stars he was observing through the windshield utterly forgotten, and throws open the door.

This night just keeps getting better and better, he thinks sourly. First, the disastrous corporate banquet; now, this.

The air smells like burnt rubber as he circles round to the back of the car. An accented voice scares away the songs of nearby nocturnal creatures concealed in the cornfields surrounding the intersection.

"Shit," the voice exclaims as the girl flips up her visor and starts to remove her helmet with shaky hands. "Fuck."

He casts a cursory glance over the two vehicles. The headlight of the motorcycle shines on his back end, the only light for miles and miles just inches from his bumper. There's a dent, but nothing looks cracked or scratched on his end; her bike's front wheel didn't fare as well. The popped tire sags, making it look like the aging Triumph is bowing to his car.

Insurance details can be hashed out after manners have been met. "Are you okay?"

She swings her right leg backward, dismounting the bike. The black fabric bunched at her hips falls down to her upper thighs, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't take in how much skin stretches between the hem and her black pumps. Legs. Legs for days. Toned and smooth and. . .the absolute last thing he should be focusing on right now.

"I didn't ask to see my life flash before my eyes," the girl answers after running her hands over the front of her leather jacket and up again to grip the back of her neck, "but yeah, I'm fine."

Now that manners are dispensed with, his voice takes on a harder edge, "Are you drunk?"

"I've had drinks," she throws back, "but that's not the problem."

He holds the shock of anger in his fists, squeezing it up his arms and through his neck, before finally gritting it out around his teeth. "You rear-ended my car."

She tosses her hair over her shoulder, kicking up dust from the road as she steps toward him, an accusatory finger pointed at the loosened knot of his tie. "I bumped into your black car that didn't have any fucking lights on in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere at night," she counters. "If anyone was a hazard on the road, it was you."

He's both impressed and horrified by her words. The sharks he swims with usually conceal their teeth around him; seeing them bared and ready to bite is oddly refreshing. "Are you always this eloquent at three in the morning?"

"Only when my best friend is getting married tomorrow, and his fiance will kill me if I end up in jail," the girl goes on.

"I didn't say I was going to call the cops," Ben remarks. He has every right to. Taking his car in to be looked at by the dealer for underlying damage will cost him more than what her bike is worth. Still. . .the truth she hit upon nags at him: he is at least partially responsible for the accident. Parking at an intersection without hazards—even on a back road no one should be cruising through on a still-dark Saturday morning—wasn't the best choice on his end.

Her eyes snap up to his, hopeful. "You mean that?"

Ben groans inwardly. Considering the age of her bike and the sudden calmness in her tone, he assumes it means she has no insurance. He doesn't care much; money has never been a concern on his radar. But her bike is inoperable, if not totaled. How is she going to get it fixed without coverage? What would have happened had she been thrown from the bike and injured?

He puts aside the what-ifs to focus on the present. His jaw eats around the lie as his hand waves off the entire accident, willing to sweep it under the proverbial rug seeing as neither of them are hurt. "There's no damage."

Her eyes narrow. "Are you blind? Or do you really not see that dent?"

"It's nothing major," he corrects.

She's already shaking her head at him, not accepting his words even though she's the one that benefits from him not making a fuss. This girl seems determined to hold on to something he's ready to move past, to forget.

She crouches next to his bumper, hands smoothing over the impact site, whispering her apologies. "I'm so sorry, gorgeous. I'm gonna fix you up in no time."

"Are you talking to my—?"

"Shh," she hisses. "Let me think. I can get this dent out. I know I can."

She'd give anything to have her tools. Normally, she keeps the essentials in her saddlebag at all times, but she'd needed the space to transport party supplies tonight. For a moment she considers offering to fix the dent at her shop on Monday—even goes so far as to visualize the sleek, black 911 model nestled into the single station she calls a garage—but brushes off the thought.

The G-Man, whom she's upgraded from jackass due to his offer to forego a paper trail, would probably laugh at such an offer. He's dressed in navy Tom Ford pants and a tailored white shirt that knows every curve of muscle in his upper arms and chest intimately. This is the kind of man who doesn't work for the government so much as is the government. He doesn't come to businesses that break half a dozen OSHA laws unless he's there to give a citation.

Better not to invite trouble, Rey agrees with herself. Even so, she can't leave his beautiful Porsche looking like this. If only I had something with suction. . .

"Ah!" she cries, startling his spine straight in her eureka moment. Spinning dangerously on her heels, she bends over to dig through her saddlebag. It's a crazy idea, but the physics of it should be the same no matter if the pull is coming from a traditional suction cup or from the more unorthodox tool she has on hand thanks to Rose and her ridiculous party favors.

Her hand finally closes around the soft shaft of silicone and she whips it out into the country air.

At first, Ben isn't sure he's seeing what he's seeing. It can't possibly be that.

She straightens and holds the electric blue dildo aloft like it's some award. A delighted laugh at her ingenuity turns into a fit of giggles as she considers the obscenely large phallus, pressing the base to her hand several times as if testing it out. Whatever simulation she's running, it passes. "This should do the trick."

He intercedes before she can reach his vehicle. "Wait," he tells her, "You're going to fix my car with a. . .with that?"

Her smile falters slightly as she looks from him to the intimate toy—how anything so imposing can be called a toy, he can't begin to fathom. Flipping the dildo so she's holding the tip, she shows him the end with the concave cup. "It's just like a plunger," she explains. "It'll work just fine. These things have some incredible suction."

He's at a loss for words, but his eyebrows must speak for him because her eyes cringe shut and she runs her tongue along her bottom lip. "Not that I would know," she mutters, clearing her throat.

"This really isn't necessary," he protests. "I can have a mechanic work it out tomorrow."

"I am a mechanic," she returns with a proud smile. "And one that won't charge you a fucking pound of flesh for an easy fix."

Without another word, she brushes past him and kneels down on the road, clenching her jaw against the bite of the asphalt on her bare knees.

"It's just. . ." he begins again, gesturing at the thing he can't seem to name without his cheeks threatening to catch fire. "Why do you even have it?"

She shrugs as she lines up the base of the dildo with the center of the dent. The thing is so large that even her two hands don't cover all of it. "It's from the party. No need to worry," she adds, "I haven't used it yet."

Rey remembers learning about spontaneous human combustion in school and thinks it might be happening to her right now, starting at her ears. Haven't used it yet? she repeats to herself with an internal groan she wonders if he can hear. You don't plan on using it at all, Rey. It was a gag gift.

She goes silent with embarrassment and hopes he thinks she's concentrating on her task. There's not a chance in hell that she can meet his eyes right now to check. Instead, she secures her hold around the dildo and presses it firmly against the dent. She feels the air compress beneath it, gives the dildo a slight twist to lock it in place, and then yanks back with a determined pull.

The dent pops out with a hollow thunk, and it's over. Easy, peasy. She's probably just saved him a grand with a five second job.

His remark is a dumbfounded whisper: "I can't believe that worked."

She's still flushed from her previous comment, but she can't help grinning at the skeptic. "I said I could fix it. I'm good at fixing things. Always have been."

"Even with your skills," he starts, "I don't think there's a way you can fix that tonight."

She follows his gaze to her busted front tire, and Rey scrunches her nose at the sight. It really is a miracle that she wasn't bucked from her seat when the rear of the bike popped up. Having opted for two wheels all her life, Rey's had her fair share of scary situations and taken one or two trips to the ER; tonight marks the first time she's ever been truly afraid of not walking away.

"I'll have to call for an Uber," she remarks, tucking the dildo under her arm to retrieve her phone. "Finn will give me a tow to my shop in the morning."

As she unzips a pocket on her leather jacket and removes her phone, Ben scuffs the asphalt with his cap-toe Oxfords. Getting an Uber to come all the way out here at this hour is going to take forever and cost her an arm and leg. He would extend an offer to drive her home, but he can't think of a way to express it without coming off sounding like a creep. They are relative strangers, after all. He doesn't even know her name.

"I'll wait with you," he says instead, leaning against the side of his car and tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants. "It's the least I can do."

"You might be out here until dawn," she comments as she scrolls through the app to contact a driver.

"I insist."

Her thumbs stop moving across the screen. The girl peers up at him, cocking her head to the side. "If you're willing to wait that long, why not just give me a lift?"

Ben thanks the stars that she is the one who asks, and he pushes away from the vehicle. "I'd be happy to, if you're comfortable with that."

She looks from him to the car, an odd sense of longing in her glance. In the eyes of a mechanic, the sleek Porsche must be an awfully big temptation. The hunger in her gaze isn't focused on him, that's for sure. He fleetingly wonders if it's possible to be jealous of his own car.

"On one condition," she states, then changes her mind, "No, two."

Tentatively, he nods in agreement. He did say he wants her to be comfortable with him driving her home. "Make your demands."

"Show me your ID."

Of all the things she could have said, that isn't what he anticipated. "My what?"

"Your license," she repeats. "I don't make a habit of getting into cars with men at three AM. You could be a serial killer."

His eyes go wide and his jaw slack in mild horror—these are the conclusions women leap to?—but he's already digging into his back pocket for his wallet. In a moment, he produces it and slips his driver's license out of the clear window, holding it out to her between two fingers while questioning her logic, "Even if I was out to kidnap beautiful women, how would having my license keep you safe?"

She shrugs, snapping a picture of it and tapping out a message he presumes she's sending to a friend. "It wouldn't," she answers, "but at least if I go missing, the police will know where to look first."

"A bit morbid, don't you think?"

"I like to think of it as pragmatic," she responds, finally reading his name from the card, "Ben Solo."

He watches the way her mouth forms his name, how her pink lips kiss together before curving around the vowels. "What's your other condition?" he inquires as he plucks his ID from her hand.

She moves past him and ghosts her free hand an inch over the car's shell, headed for the passenger side door, as she makes her second request: "I want to hear her roar. I may never get the chance to ride in one of these again, and. . .it'll kill me if I don't find out what she can do."

He mirrors her movements as she speaks, meeting her on the opposite side of the car. He was right about the hungry look in her eyes as they feasted upon his car. "I think I can make that happen," he agrees with a wide grin, adding, "But he prefers to be called 'Kylo.'"

"Ben and Kylo," she repeats with a smile. "We had a rough start, but I'm glad to have met you both. I'm Rey."

[starwarsfandomh8speopleofcolor]

Star Wars: The Last Jedi

review with spoilers

SPOILERS FROM HERE ON, READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

Finn: was it necessary to have him get hit by literally every fucking character!? The ONLY ones who don't hit him or physically cause him any pain or inconvenience are Rey and Poe (and lbr it's possibly because they only have like .2 seconds of screentime together). His loyalty to Rey and how much she matters to him is amazing but it'd be nice if she remembered his existence at any point in time (i think she doesn't mention him once while she's trying to god fucking save kylo ren ew), but their reunion was AMAZING.

Poe: OOC much? He's nice and caring! Not a hotheaded ass who doesn't follow orders - where's his respect for Leia? Where's Leia's respect for him? What the fuck was Rian doing implying god damned DAMEREY AT THE END OF THAT MOVIE!? I mean, all through the movie he made it OBVIOUS that he hates finnrey. At least he seems to dislike reylo, too, but as my mom would say mal de muchos consuelo de tontos.

His first scene with General Ugh? Amazing and the most in character thing he did in the movie!

Paige: only there to be killed, but i think that much was obvious. I'll use this space to complain about the fact that ALL the graphic deaths of the movie were of people of color. Paige Tico, Jessika Pava (or I think it was her, we saw her face .2 seconds before her x-wing was set on fire), a random black man from the resistance who says one line before he dies.... Like I get it! THE FIRST ORDER HATES MINORITIES AND WANTS THEM DEAD YOU DON'T NEED TO SHOW US THAT GRAPHICALLY WE G E T IT. It was also painfully clear that everyone on TFO was white, which is why I think it was on purpose - if this movie made one thing clear was that they are the bad guys, plain evil. Definitely parallel irl fascists. 

Kyle: let's rule the galaxy together; Rey: you're choosing a path I can't take. Vader: i'll overthrow him and you and i can rule the galaxy together (blah blah); Padme: you're going down a path I can't follow. Reylos: lose their shit. As if:

the first half of the movie wasn't full of luke and leia and kyle and rey parallels - ya know, who are siblings. looks like Rey Solo will be canon?

 their force bond wasn't made as part of a ploy by Snoke

 the next thing that vader does after telling padme that wasn't to physically assault her like talk about abuse apologist assholes ffs.

I'm SO MAD that the spark line wasn't spoken by poe! It was said by the white lady with the purple hair (i wanna punch her in the face t b h)

Let me make one (1) comment about a white character: are you telling me that Luke Skywalker, the ONLY PERSON IN THE GALAXY who doesn't hate Vader, who thought there might be REDEMPTION for him, would even 'fleetingly consider' striking down his TEENAGED, SLEEPING NEPHEW WHO HADN'T DONE ANYTHING BAD YET? just make it clear that you just wanna jack off to kylo ren and go. His trick at the end was A+ though that was the first time I see people clapping in the cinema, definitely the best force trick in all the movies tbqh

Finnrose kiss (rose kisses a very startled finn): they knew each other for less than a day but at the end Rose says she loves him? mmmmmmMMMMmM. And later on Rey and Poe shily smile at each other like 'im poe' 'im rey' 'i know' (me: 'kiss my ass'). This man (rian) HATES finnrey. @ JJ don't disappoint i beg u. (btw no hate to finnrose, i dont particularly care about it but the whole thing is sketchy u know). Finnrey's reunion, their beautiful hug at the end, though, tells me that ?Maybe we’re gonna turn Star Wars into Star Telenovela? Whateverrrrrrrr. I wouldn't hate a finn v rey v rose love triangle, but I fear how it'd be delivered.

This whole movie is the longest in the franchise and the majority of it happens in the course of like...12 hs at most? It’s really inconcistent.

Rose was an awesome character! I’d have preferred it if she hadn’t been introduced this way (no need to kill his sis on screen damn, she would have been in that stair and she would have seen Finn anyway), but she’s really smart and kind.

Finn is the gift that keeps on giving! AND HE DESERVES BETTER THAN THIS SHIT DIRECTOR HAVING HIM SLAPPED AND STUNNED LEFT AND RIGHT! by Phasma (who he later kills but ok), by those officers in the casino, by Rose... 

Poe, as I said, was out of character, but I’m not sure I agree with the people who say he was sexualised by Leia and Holdo? Like maybe the subtitles lied but they only said they like him? Did Holdo mistreat him? yes. Did he deserve better from Leia than getting slapped and later on stunned? Yes! (but lbr that was ooc from leia too, she didn’t hit han when she was younger and more impulsive *ahem* and they spent their whole time fighting, but nah let’s demote my commander because he saved us from certain death).

Btw why should I care about Holdo? we didn’t know her and she treated other rebels like shit so....yeah she and leia were friends but WHERE was it stablished!? AND WHY WASN’T THE SPARK LINE ORIGINALLY POE’S! I CAN’T BELIEVE HE GOT IT FROM HER! 

best part of the movie: REYLO IS NOT CANON WOOHOO, I had read that they basically made out on screen wtf, reylos are on crack. That’s what drove me to tell y’all to go watch it right after I left the theather The only thing rey does is to call him a monster many times and then go to him when she gets a force vision of him turning to the light (which doesn’t happen btw). They do fight together but later she tries to kill him again so.

I thiiiink I'm not forgetting anything but if you've got any questions or wanna add something send it in with a spoilers warning for the other mods, thanks!

Mod A.

[just-trash-for-ships]

whats your headcanon for reylo?

I only have to choose one? lol 

It starts off with their Force SKype -

The next time they force skype, it’ll be pure heartbreak. the first glance at what their lives are like without the other by their side, knowing what the feel like, smell like, it’s too hard to look. But I do want Rey to make the first move - there’s something poetic about the way Rey can make Kylo/Ben feel. I want her to be in the middle of talking to someone when she sees him, and I want him alone in his room, the clear metaphoric impression of what their loneliness if like.

And then we see Kylo sort of flex his hand, and I want Rey to sort of get flustered by it, remembering the feel of his fingers on hers.

And slowly, do they begin their talks. It starts off small, maybe a way of checking in how they’re feeling without saying as much. We see Rey struggling to keep her distance, giving him longing looks, because she hasn’t stopped hoping. 

I want one where she wakes up as he’s fighting and raging, and all of a sudden he stops and she lets him in - because they both know, they fucking know it - they need to stop running away.

I see them coming together in battle, but neither can actually fight each other, just the people in their way. They’re trying to get to each other by not having to be so obvious. I see them getting stranded alone, having no one but each other.

I want them to know how their separation hurt them - Kylo fucking JUMPED when Rey closed the door on him, but does she know? I want their hands to touch, their banter to continue but with added heat, added love. Because they still love each other - they still protect each other.

I want their kiss to lead into a mutual decision that they will fight FOR each other. That Kylo/Ben and Rey’s vision, where they both turn from their former side to bring new order to the galaxy, will be of the grey jedi.

I need them to walk out like badass emperor and empress and try and take back control of the war. I want Hux to be pissed, want Poe to be pissed - like romeo and juliet damnit! But Reylo is gonna bring balance. The war will either kill them or make them.

But whether they live to see the next day is something I’m not sure I can handle. If they do, or don’t, I only just want one thing from their consummation:

The reason for it all, will be because of Love.

I didn’t make any sense ffs this is why I don’t ask people to ask what my headcanons i appreciate it though 

[tinymousette]

Throwing my TLJ thoughts into the abyss

1. Luke and R2D2 meeting again was the reunion I didn't know I needed. Beautiful.

2. Mark Hamil is HOT. FFS he's better looking than he was in the OT. I have eyes, I know Adam Driver is an attractive man, but Rey definitely made the right choice - I want Luke to teach me *swoon*

3. I was not expecting that shirtless scene and all the subtext, eye fucking and fingertip fucking in a Disney film. I was wetter than Kylo's glove after watching it. I recommend leaving your kids at home to fully enjoy the amazing Adam Driver/Daisy Ridley experience.

4. I HAVE DRUNK THE REYLO KOOL AID. I will henceforth be Reylo trash and reblogging the shit out of everything in the fandom as I dive in head first.

5. That fight scene was poetic. I'm going to watch it daily for the next 2 years. And the scene afterwards was beautiful, I could feel both Kylo and Rey's pain as both of their visions were torn apart by the other.

6. I love that Poe has learnt there are different ways to be a hero and the brash reckless hothead turns out to be right trope was flipped on its head.

7. The Poe jokes at Hux's expense seem to have been divisive from what I've read but is pretty much what he did to Kylo Ren at the beginning of TFA so in character.

8. All the female characters were strong and complex. It's so important for children to see powerful female characters and I can't understand why some, especially Rose, are being disparaged. I loved seeing Leia use the Force and miss Carrie Fisher even more. RIP

9. Proper sassy puppet Yoda! I hated the grumpy CGI Yoda from the Prequels and his funny and wise scenes have helped erase that embarrassment from my memory.

10. FFS people complaining Snoke was a wasted villain without a backstory. He's an evil creep who groomed and tortured a young boy. That's the backstory. I cheered when Kylo Ben killed him.

11. Luke was the MVP of the film. Jedi Masters are so melodramatic, I love it. And they came up with a great way to explain how the end of the Jedi school happened which allowed the audience to still feel empathy for both Luke and Ben. Luke achieved so much in this film with Leia, Rey and Kylo and I thought it was the perfect ending for him.

12. So much I've missed out but for anyone reading spoilers and debating whether to go and see the film - DO IT! Some fanboys are enraged but they would have been unhappy with any possible film in any possible universe. It's a great film and I can't wait to see it again.

[xxlovendreamsxx]

Hi, I don't think this is a fic recs but if you feel like it is feel free to ignore my ask but I wanted to know if you had any sasusaku favored writers on tumblr? Thanks anyway! I love your fics and I can't wait for the next chapter of hiwthi

technically it is a rec, but it’s not the type of rec that requires me to go through my entire list of FF faves lol so i dont mind

i love anything @kuriquinn and @adxe write, along with @sasusake (though she is so incredibly busy so her writing can be rare, BUT SO WORTH WAITING FOR) and @southsidestory (though she does write more reylo and stucky than sasusaku these days). i like many others as well but these four are my faves for sure. 

also thank you!!! the chapter is advancing very well :) i think i only have three scenes to go, and im past the tough parts :)

[capaldisrighteyebrow]

Cycle - A Reylo Fic

Written for the "First Blood" weekly flash-fiction challenge @two-halves-of-reylo. Inspired by my grandmother's schoolmate who was, most unfortunately, never told about her period and stood up in class because she thought she was dying.

All thanks go to @liminal-zone for helping me not give up on this when I got frustrated. <3 Rating: Teen & up Tags/Warnings: Fluff & hurt/comfort. Mentions of blood and cramp pain. Links: AO3 || FF

She expected the far reaches of space to be more chaotic, more dangerous, more wild. But the Rebellion's latest outpost is stationed at the edge of a crystal-clear, purple-hued lake with flowering trees lining its banks, and it's just so. . .serene.

It's strange. For the first time, nature isn't trying to beat her down. There's no blistering sun or suffocating sand. There's no pelting rain or holes that wish to swallow her. There are only cool breezes that rustle the white blossoms adorning the trees, dragging the more fragile blooms down to dance along the surface of the lake, and the mysterious sound of tinkling chimes.

Hidden away in beauty, Rey should be able to forget. When she closes her eyes, she should see the sparkling water and the rainbow scales that mark the fish she's been feasting on. Out here, she shouldn't see him on his knees in the dark, haloed in the dust of the past. She shouldn't see defeat hanging like chains around his shoulders in a cowl he forged himself.

The moment's peace she's longed for since leaving Jakku is finally at hand, and it's making her absolutely miserable.

Because no matter how much tranquility she breathes in, his please rattles in her hollow lungs in a continuous, desperate echo that begs her to not forget.

Two months go by before they finally have a space which can rightfully claim the title of medbay - a place where the newly recruited staff can do more than ration out salves for burns and wince through unsteady sutures administered by untrained hands. It's not only a place to go to for emergencies, but somewhere every Resistance fighter - green and veteran alike - is ordered to visit by General Organa for a routine physical.

"Jedi-in-training are no exception," Leia affectionately chides after Rey skips her appointment slot for the fourth time.

She's patched herself up for so long that having anyone else examine her seems useless. Her time would be better spent training with Finn, or helping Rose with repairs, or figuring out a way to retool the broken lightsaber stowed away with the sacred texts on the Falcon. She knows her body better than anyone else; she'd know if something was wrong.

Rey likes the class one droid - an ancient thing that looks as if it could use more than an oil bath - that takes her vitals. Leia, finally, granted her permission to speak to a machine rather than a person since Rey's always been more comfortable around metal and gears than flesh and bone.

After she's passed the initial tests and provided bio-samples, the droid's monotone voice cycles through a list of questions that goes on and on and on. Only one strikes her as odd.

"When did you last bleed?"

Puzzled, Rey has to think a moment. She searches her memory for the last training session where things went wrong and she ended up with stitches. "About a month ago."

Her answer ticks another question off of the checklist; after ten more, she's released with a clean bill of health and the standard send-off of, "eat well and exercise."

Finally, an order she can agree with wholeheartedly.

The warm waters of the lake are the perfect temperature for bathing. While most of the crew still prefer the privacy of the freshers, Rey doesn't have as many inhibitions; the rare water-baths she'd had on Jakku happened around a communal trough where female scavengers and Niima residents did their business quickly and without comment. Rose joins her just because she relishes the chance to swim.

"It's easier to float," Rose admits as she splashes into the water. Lingering soreness in her shoulder from her Crait injuries impedes her desire to teach Rey more than simple strokes. "But who enjoys that stillness?"

Rey sinks up to her shoulders, hardly making a sound in comparison to her lively companion. The warmth feels particularly wonderful on her aching muscles today. She's not sure what she did differently during her sparring session with Finn yesterday afternoon, but everything from her waist to her hips feels like it was stepped on by a happabore.

She turns her face toward the sun. Even with her eyes shut, she can trace the circle of light smiling down on them. For a few minutes, she tries to push away all other thoughts and channel the positive energies around her into her aches and pains.

"Uh. . .Rey?" Rose starts. Her paddling slows to a stop several feet away. "Did something surprise you?"

Rey squints one eye open. What on earth could Rose be talking about?

Rose's eyes laugh at her in a knowing way, but Rey still doesn't see anything humorous. The tech nods at the water in front of Rey, and she looks down. Dark spots cloud the space around her hips. Rey jerks back, but the cloud follows her in the water, sneaking from between her legs. Shaking, her hand slips between her thighs, then quickly brings it out of the water. There isn't much left on her hand, but Rey can tell it's blood.

"Rey?" Rose's tone goes from conspiratorial to concerned.

"W-What's going on?" Rey stammers. Did she tear something during her training session and not notice? Rey retreats toward the shore and stands at a place where the water hits her mid-thigh. Bright red rivulets streak down from her center, and it takes all of her willpower not to shout for help. "Why am I bleeding?"

Rose churns water for several seconds. Her friend would do more than blink at her if it were serious, wouldn't she? She would jump out of the water in search of aid if it were a true life and death situation, right?

"Rose?"

Whether it's her wide eyes and short breaths that snap her into action or the terror in her voice that spurs her forward, Rose wades over to Rey and reaches up to rest her hands on the Jedi's shoulders. "Oh, sweetie. We need to have a talk."

Meditation doesn't help. The pills the medbay technician gave her, among other supplies to deal with the blood, only take the edge off. Rose had collected some additional treatments, but she'd been called away to solve a duct issue. Without an explanation of what everything is for, all Rey can do is lay on one of the Falcon's cots, breathing and mulling over the information that's been dumped on her at least half a decade too late.

Every month. This crippling pain is going to happen every month, though Rose had assured her the cramps will lessen over time, had attempted to joke about mother nature catching up for missed cycles.

Rey had responded with a grimace, not a grin.

Maybe if she hadn't been such a glutton, it wouldn't have come to this. Starvation and stress, the medbay technician had told her, could have delayed her cycle all these years. Rey knows she shouldn't wish for her old life - that going hungry and hauling salvaged parts through the desert were worse than this - yet the familiar struggles would be welcome right now.

It's one thing to slice a hand open on a jagged piece of metal - a pain that ranks somewhere around an eight as it happens and a two for the next month. It's another thing entirely to cycle through minutes-long stretches of a solid five all morning and afternoon. The interminable aching is the true torture.

"Rey?"

She startles at the soft intonation of her name. Her body reacts to the intruder, ready for a fight, but it ends up battling itself - piercing her with a hot, needling sensation that makes her groan and clutch at her stomach.

Why did it have to be him?

"What's wrong?" She sees him sweep his eyes from top to bottom, seeking a source for her distress.

"Give me the dignity of going away."

She doesn't have the energy to push him from her mind like she did on Crait, to close him out of a moment of weakness she'd rather keep hidden. She's not sure if it makes it better or worse when her request isn't met with animosity, but genuine worry.

"Are you hurt?" he presses, drawing nearer.

She laughs through gritted teeth. "Up until a few hours ago, I thought I was dying." Why would she admit to that? Maker, the nagging throbs in her lower abdomen and back have started to drive her loopy.

For the first time since their connection began, Rey lets herself notice him. He's wearing a similar outfit to the last time she saw him, but the clothes don't fit him as snuggly as they used to, like he's lost the muscle she's gained over the past few months. Rey excuses her perusal as needing to discern which one of them has appeared in her space - Kylo or Ben - though she knows the two are inseparably intertwined. It's only a question of dominance.

His eyes, soft and colored by the desire to ease whatever ails her, incline toward Ben.

Why did it have to be him? she thinks again.

"Rey - "

"I'm going to be fine," she emphasizes, sucking in a breath that belies her words. "Don't you have other things to worry about, Supreme Leader?"

He doesn't rise to the bait, doesn't switch demeanor to make it easier for her to goad him into leaving. Instead, he drags a hand through his hair, smoothing out the waves in tandem with his patience.

"You're deflecting," he remarks, shaking his head and looking at the ground before meeting her eyes again. "Let me help you."

Another cruel fist clenches inside of her - a seven edging close to an eight - making Rey turn her head into the mattress and whine. Once it passes, she asks, "Why would you want to help me?"

It's a valid question. He's still the leader of the First Order; she, a Jedi fighting for the Resistance. They aren't supposed to help each other, aren't supposed to care about one another's well-beings.

"I don't want you to suffer." The last word is almost inaudible.

The suffering she's known doesn't have a number scale. It dwells in her heart, lamenting for lost causes, for things split in half without hope for repair, for months spent without speaking.

It's a suffering which can only be ended by surrender, and she's not ready to give up.

Of course, he's only talking about the accessible pain, the ones which can be soothed.

"Really, don't trouble yourself," she tells him.

He ignores her and begins to explore the space, stepping over to a metallic trunk hosting Rose's collected treatments. He assesses the contents, lifting the cloth draped over a bowl resting on the heater. "Volcanic stones?"

Rey's only response is to groan as a level nine twist and pinch causes her to gasp. She curls in on herself, but it brings no relief.

Ben glances over his shoulder as he continues on to the next item: a jar with an opaque ointment. He lifts it to his nose, then draws it away, blinking his eyes from the sting. "Methanol rub?"

She's in too much distress to deny herself from asking, "Can you bring that over? Rose said it would help."

He turns and steps over to the bunk, but doesn't relinquish the jar. "Help with what?"

His insistence is maddening, but she doesn't care anymore if he knows what's wrong. "Cramps!" she half-shouts. "Is that what you needed to hear? I'm on my moon-cycle."

"Ah," he draws out as if the pieces of a puzzle have come together to form a clear picture.

She motions to the jar. "Now hand it over."

"No."

Rey huffs loudly, expanding her lungs with enough air to launch a rapid string of her finest curses at him when he adds, "Turn over. On your stomach."

She deflates instantly. "W-what?"

"I know what to do," he says, sheepish and with a faint red tinge on his cheeks. "I can make you feel better."

If the pain didn't seem to be getting steadily worse, she wouldn't humor him. As it is, she's desperate and willing to try just about anything, including trusting him.

Rey does as he asks and flattens herself out on the mattress while he brings the bowl of heated stones over. He places them on the floor next to her bedside, then kneels down. His bare hand rests on her lower back, pressing ever-so-gently on either side of her spine, an inch or two above her tailbone.

"Does it hurt here?" he questions, voice deep and rumbling in a way that makes her heart flutter. He moves his hand again. "Here?"

"More on the left," she reports, then amends, "It all hurts. Everything hurts."

"Then we'll fix everything," he returns, a smile warming his voice. "Can I roll up your shirt? It's better for the stone to rest on the skin."

She nods, lost in his shared promise: we'll fix everything. If only he truly meant everything - the pain in her body, the suffering in her heart, the hurt that's spread across the galaxy because of the war they continue to fight.

They could fix everything, together.

He pushes her shirt out of the way, bunching it halfway up her back. Taking one of the hot stones from the bowl, he passes it back and forth between his hands to absorb the sting of the fresh heat, then places it against her skin.

Rey gasps and jerks her hips away even as Ben retracts the stone. "Too hot?"

Yes. It feels like a scalding piece of metal that's been baking in the Jakku sun all afternoon. But even the momentary heat has started to seep through and loosen the muscle intent on strangling itself, so Rey shakes her head. "No. It just caught me off guard."

He hesitates a moment longer before placing the stone back in same spot. The pause between contact lends it the perfect temperature, just hot enough that her fingers clench into the sheet beneath her, but tolerable enough that she can stay still. He waits for another stone to cool slightly before laying it on her other side, right above her kidney. Prepared this time, Rey sighs at the sensation.

Ben begins to move the smooth stones, running them over her lower back, up her spine to the rolled hem of her shirt, then down to the waistline of her sleep shorts. As they transfer their heat to her sore muscles, he replaces them with fresh stones from the bowl.

"How did you know?" Rey asks. "How did you know what the stones were for?"

He's silent a long time, and Rey wonders if she actually voiced her question or if it was all in her head. The next time he switches out the stones, he reveals: "I've seen it done. I didn't understand it at the time, but I've seen the relief it can bring."

While she wants more information, she gets the sense that it's a topic he doesn't feel comfortable elaborating on. Instead of pressing him, she snuggles her head into her folded arms and sighs contentedly. "It feels better than you can even imagine."

Ben repeats the process again and again, until every stone is exhausted and Rey is half asleep. It's the first time she's felt relaxed enough to rest since the aching started the previous afternoon. When the heat of the last stone fades away, she whimpers - actually whimpers - over the loss.

It's not that the pain has suddenly returned which drags the sound from her throat, but the absence of his touch.

Just when she wonders if their connection lapsed without her notice, Rey feels something else on her skin: his lips. They brush against her lower back, slightly parted and letting the warmth of his breath gloss over the tender spots.

There's no drowsiness in her voice when she asks, "Is that something you remember seeing too?"

"No," he answers, leaning over to caress the other side of her back with his mouth. The words are mumurmed so close to her skin that she feels them move. "They say kisses take the pain away."

"Ben - "

He clears his throat and pulls back, fumbling with something on the floor. "It's foolishness, really."

"Then why did you. . .? Oh!"

The press of his fingers is a shock that takes her breath away. There's something coating them that feels cool at first, then burns with a comforting, radiating heat.

"Sorry," he utters. "It's the methanol rub."

Rey wants to say there's no need for an apology, not when his hand sliding over her back feels even better than the rocks, but all that comes out is a quiet moan. His touch spreads the warmth of the ointment as well as his own; both seep into her and alleviate the remaining tension knotted under her skin.

She's heard Rose use the word blissful when talking about Finn's massages, and for the first time, Rey thinks she understands what it means.

"Can you do this every month?" she asks, sleepy once more.

"If you'd like," he returns. "Though it would be easier to do in person. You could still - "

"Ben."

She cuts him off not only because she doesn't want to ruin the moment with offers she'd have no choice except to refuse, but because she hears footsteps coming up the loading ramp.

He senses it too, and abruptly severs their connection.

She's just sucked down enough air to control her panicked breathing when another Skywalker calls into the semi-darkness. "Rey?"

"General Organa?" Of all her possible visitors, the Resistance leader comes as a true surprise.

"No, no. Don't get up," Leia says quickly when Rey starts to push herself off of the mattress. "I only came to see how you're feeling. Rose has been worried."

"I'm much better now," Rey assures her as she settles back into place. "Just tired."

Whenever she's in Leia's presence, be it in the command center or elsewhere on the base, a sense of calm washes over Rey. It could have something to do with the woman's Force signature that Rey doesn't understand yet, or it could have something to do with the motherly care that naturally emanates from her, but Rey revels in it all the same. As Leia comes to sit beside her on the cot, a feeling of ease floats down to blanket her.

"Would you like me to use the stones?" Leia asks, reaching down to fish one from the bowl. "Oh, they're cold."

Rey swallows, suspecting that the Force-sensitive woman can detect a lie as easily as she reads ship schematics on a datapad. What would she do if she knew about the bond Rey has with her son?

Leia saves Rey the trouble of sweating out her options. She drops the stone back into its container and picks up the upcapped jar instead. "May I?"

Rey nods, still not trusting herself to speak without accidentally revealing her secrets.

With the pads of her fingers, the general applies a small amount of balm to the half-coated side of Rey's spine, rubbing soothing circles onto her back. She takes her time, humming a scale of notes over and over to fill the silence. Even without the Force, this woman wields her own power over those around her.

Enveloped in peace, Rey begins to drift off again.

"You know," Leia starts softly, voice wading through a pleasant memory, "Han used to do this for me."

Rey's eyes crack open. Her heart stutters against its resting rate. "He did?"

Leia hums a single note - an affirmation. "Han never liked an enemy he couldn't shoot, much less one he couldn't see," she explains with a smile. "There were days he'd spend hours easing my pains with hot stones and ointments."

Finished with the application, Leia puts the jar on the floor and gently rolls Rey's shirt down to cover her back. She stands, then pulls the blanket up to cover the younger woman's shoulders, moving her hair away from her face with a delicate swipe. It's the first time Rey can remember anyone ever tucking her in.

"Rest now," Leia says, straightening up.

As she's walking toward the door, Rey can't stop herself from mumbling one last question: "Why did he do it?"

The general's hand touches the arch leading toward the loading ramp, smiling as if Han Solo still stands beside her when she's on board this ship filled with his memories, their memories.

"It was just one of the ways he showed me he loved me."

[capaldisrighteyebrow]

Lessons in Healing -  A Reylo Fic - Chapter Three

Chapter Summary: After an attack on the Resistance, Kylo finds Rey in dire straits. Tags/Warnings: hurt/comfort; Force healing; blood; wounds Note: Thanks to the lovely @sosanguine for the beta!

AO3 - 1 - 2 - 3 - | FF - 1 - 2 - 3 -

Another blistering spasm wracked the left side of her body as Rey stumbled into an old instructional room. Covered in dust, the space contained metal desks and chairs rusted at the joints—skeletons of another era. Cracks in the tile where vegetation had pushed through to reclaim its domain made the floor uneven and dangerous to navigate on shaky legs.

Gritting her teeth and moving as quickly as she dared, Rey picked her way to the cabinets behind the lectern. Despite the aging facility, she hoped the room still housed some rudimentary aid supplies. Without them, her chances of seeing the dawn were next to nothing.

The blast to her shoulder caused shooting pain to radiate down her arm, spreading to her upper back and chest. Distracted by her wound and occupied by her search, she never felt the tug against her little finger that signaled their connection. Only after he spoke in the strange silence did Rey realize he had fully breached the mental barrier she'd slammed shut after their last encounter.

She'd felt Kylo seeking her out during the midst of the battle. As her stamina had depleted, her ability to brush off his advances had faltered. Unable to focus on fighting the stormtroopers circling around her while also keeping him at bay in her mind, Rey hadn't been quick enough to deflect the shot that had nearly cost her an arm.

Forced to retreat from the battlefield for aid in whatever form she could find it, Kylo's intrusion didn't pose much of a threat to her friends or their cause.

"Something's wrong." Ill-concealed panic shaded his voice. "Everything is blurred. I can only see your outline."

Rage flared within her over his concerned tone. The flash of emotion sent a fresh stab to the partially cauterized injury she'd torn open again. How dare he show up now? Here? Acting as if he cared? If she weren't so preoccupied replacing her makeshift tourniquet with something more stabilizing, she'd throw all of her anger and hatred in his face, force him to retreat from their connection with her ire alone.

But that would be a waste of energy in her current condition, she reasoned.

"Where are you?" he asked when she didn't speak.

"Go—away!" The command came out shrill, broken. Her left hand started shaking. Was it induced by shock and blood loss? Or did it reflect her desire to destroy the creature who insisted on chasing her down like a hunter tracking injured prey through the woods?

He'd betrayed her for the last time. After all their shared moments and intimate connections, he had still sanctioned the slaughter of the Resistance supporters who had fled to the old Rebellion outpost.

"Rey. . ."

Her name on his lips sent her whirling around, an agonized shout ripping from somewhere deep within her���torment on a level she had never known. It went deeper than the blaster wound, bruised her more than the memories of being abandoned, seeing Han murdered, or watching Finn slashed down on Starkiller Base. It was akin to losing General Organa, a mother figure she'd become wholeheartedly attached to in the short month they'd had together.

Heartbreak swelled: absolute and eclipsing.

The spin cost Rey her balance. On her way toward the floor, her right arm clipped a freestanding cabinet next to the lectern, taking it down with her. The doors opened and relinquished a cascade of tools and supplies in a haphazard pile. Darkness rushed in at the corners of her vision—a sure sign the simple bandages and compression pads she'd come to find would be of no real use.

"Kriff," he swore, eyes dancing over her shaking form. "Look at you."

Her eyes scanned upward, landing upon the cloaked figure for the first time. Against his usual dark ensemble, only his pale face stood out—a face, she noticed, which was even more stark than what she had become accustomed to during their interactions. Rey couldn't decipher his surroundings from the shadows that all but swallowed him. Deep brown eyes reflected his concern; the intensity they harbored caused her gaze to shift away, unable to meet such emotion knowing her sorry appearance had evoked it.

Redirecting her attention to her environment, Rey discovered a metallic toolbox stamped with a medical symbol. She reached for the lifeline, heaving it toward her with her good arm while admonishing his presence.

"Come to gloat?" The bite in her tone was unmistakable.

He peered over his shoulder before responding in an equally unamused voice: "Contrary to what you believe, I take no pleasure in seeing you bleed."

Rey fumbled with the latches on the medkit, her dexterity slipping; the nimble-fingered scavenger within her scolded the clumsy attempt.

"Then you've really tapped in at the wrong time," she huffed, finally popping open the rusty latches. Without ceremony, Rey dumped the contents on the tile, rooting through them to find something useful. Gauze, bacta swabs, and some pre-filled syringes made up most of the supplies.

Rey picked up the nearest syringe and examined it; the label had faded and peeled with time, obscuring its purpose. The others were equal mysteries. Standard medkits came equipped with pain medication, adrenaline boosters, and antibiotics. Special cases included a fourth type of syringe: one which brought a swift death should a pilot or soldier fall into the hands of the enemy.

There was no way to know which type she held in her hand. Rey vented her frustration with a litany of Jakku curses.

He shook his head, pleading with her. "Expired training supplies are useless. They'll do more harm than good. You need serious aid."

A harsh sound crawled up the back of her throat. "Our support frigate is gone. The station's medbay is past capacity. There is no help."

He looked over his shoulder again—why did he keep doing that?—then turned back to her. A gloved hand smoothed the agitation creeping across his forehead. "What about the worthless friends you fight for? Where are they when you need them?"

The empty metal kit flew in his direction, crashing just in front of his feet. If she'd possessed an iota of spare strength, it would have been a direct hit. "My friends are still out there fighting—dying," she spat at him, "because of you."

As soon as the spark of anger subsided, Rey regretted the needless drain from her already waning energy. Her head felt woozy. The pain in her arm had started to fade, replaced by a chill that did not bode well.

"I gave no order of attack."

Maybe her hearing was failing too, because what she'd heard didn't make any sense. "You. . .what?"

He stepped closer; Rey responded by inching back until she bumped into the wall. Crouching next to her, his hooded cape spilled around him in a black pool of thick wool.

"I didn't order the attack," he reiterated, his voice quiet yet urgent.

"How can I trust you?"

It wasn't a question of if she believed him: she did. Even if her mind wanted to blame him, to curse him for his allegiance to the First Order, her heart accepted the sincerity he exuded in his statement. The part of his soul fused with hers through their bond revealed the truth.

His voice dropped to a murmur. "Have I ever lied to you?"

Her head lolled away from him, once again unable to meet the earnestness behind his expression, raw and unprotected—vulnerable. His eyes were her undoing: they exposed the light within him, separated Ben Solo from the title he had worn as a shroud against perceived weakness.

"Then who…?" she whispered.

"That usurping bastard: Hux."

When he said the name, she connected the signs. His panic, the frantic glances over his shoulder, the sense of alert that thrummed through him and into her consciousness. The implication became achinginly clear: "He's hunting you."

Ben grimaced, nodded, and immediately tried to reassure her. "I'm safe for now."

"You should go," she told him. "Escape while there's still a chance."

His jaw went slack with shock. Shaking his head in disbelief and denial, he calmly said, "Delaying my fate isn't worth your life."

If his worry over her survival cost him his own, Rey would never forgive herself. She had to make it out of this situation alive. All her life, she'd been a survivor; there was no way she would give up now.

Maybe the aged medical supplies scattered around her would do her no good, but she still had one option. She could try to heal herself using the Force. Granted, it would be a big undertaking; the blaster's plasma had sliced through layers of tissue and muscle. The most she'd ever healed had been the superficial cut on Ben's chest—a task which had exhausted her.

She imagined a wound of this nature would require even more skill and power than she had previously utilized. Rey's confidence in herself and her abilities wavered, though she supposed even a novice attempt at employing the regenerative power would be better than no attempt at all. Right?

Gingerly, she began untying the impromptu cloth bandage she'd fashioned from one of her arm wraps. The soaked fabric dripped red; the color stained her tunic and smeared down the exposed skin of her arm. While Rey had garnered her unfortunate share of injuries on Jakku, she'd never lost this much blood in one incident.

Ben watched, brows drawing together and eyes growing wider. "What are you doing?"

With a muffled grunt, she stripped the bandage away completely. Her breath came in short, shallow pants as fresh blood trickled from the blaster wound. "The Resistance can't lend me the aid I require," she acknowledged, "so I'm going to fix this myself."

Recalling her training from Ben, Rey's right hand hovered over the injury, barely an inch from the surface of her skin. You can do this, she thought as she centered herself, trying to push beyond the pain.

"Don't," Ben cautioned. "You're too weak. You're training is incomplete."

Both observations were true; she ignored him nonetheless. Focusing on the Force, she tried to connect the shredded muscle and tissue beneath her fingers while talking herself through the action. "I just—have to—control—"

"Stop it!"

"—the bleeding," Rey finished on a loud groan.

Her right arm went limp, landing in her lap. The exertion had wiped her out, but had done little to stem the bleeding or mend her wound; if anything, her efforts had left her worse off than when she'd started. As Ben had said, she was just too weak. She'd used too much energy fighting the First Order to use the Force to heal herself.

While death didn't scare her, she feared what would become of the man she'd given everything to save from the darkness if she succumbed to its fatal embrace. Ben Solo crouched beside her, though the current circumstances were nothing like the vision she'd had what seemed like a lifetime ago.

A sob rattled through her chest, tears following afterward. Their intertwined fates would amount to nothing if it ended now; she couldn't accept that.

Determined, the hand in her lap twitched and lifted slightly for a second attempt, knowing it would be her last if she failed.

A warm hand—large and uncalloused in comparison—encompassed hers. Skin-to-skin, the comforting touch begged her to open her eyes. They blinked apart just as his head bent forward, face curtained by dark tendrils of hair. His lips brushed against her knuckles.

When he spoke, his voice resonated with reverence, awe. "Idiot." He whispered it like a term of endearment. "You'll kill yourself like this."

"Wouldn't it have come to this eventually?" she asked, voice hollow. "My destruction? Yours?"

Her words knocked him to his knees. "How can you say that?" A clenched fist rapt against his chest over his heart. "I wanted you to be my queen. I wanted to worship you."

Rey could feel tears on her cheeks. Was she still angry with him for supporting the brutality of the First Order? Still hurt that he couldn't see the difference between worshiping her and loving her? Or did her sorrow stem from finally having Ben Solo kneeling in front of her and knowing her death would erase him from existence?

She couldn't let that happen. "Ben. . ."

Squeezing her hand to quiet her, he continued. "My vision was wrong. What I need isn't the First Order or to rule the galaxy. What I need is you. Only you, Rey."

With her good hand still enveloped within his, Rey raised her left hand to lay against the side of his face. Thumbing the scar against his cheek, she caressed him. He'd come into her life through violence; she resolved to leave him with love.

Leaning forward, she brought her lips to his. They felt warm against her own. Ben didn't move at first, frozen until her tenderness could thaw him. When he did slant his lips along her mouth, it was controlled and unhurried, light and giving—much different than the kiss they'd shared in his quarters. The surprise of his easy approach took her breath away.

When she could no longer support herself, Rey fell back against the wall and looked up at him through her lashes. A small smile curled the corners of her mouth. "A good note to leave on."

His gloved hand joined the ungloved one still holding onto hers, enfolding her in a contrasting grip. "You aren't going anywhere."

As soon as he'd uttered the declaration, he released his grasp and reached for a syringe filled with yellow liquid.

"What are you doing?" she asked, echoing his earlier words as he popped the cap from the needle. He worked quickly, almost mechanically, as composed and coolheaded as she had ever seen him.

"My father used to keep one of these kits on the Falcon," he explained, pushing on the plunger to discharge a small amount of the medicine and potential air bubbles. "I can't have you pass out on me now. I'll disappear."

She barely felt the prick in her thigh. As he rubbed the injection site to spread the medicine, Rey's body revved to life. Every nerve stood on alert, sending shockwaves of rippling pain to her injury. Her heart rate increased, pulse fluttering at her neck. Ben sensed the change, ducking his head to place a kiss against her throat in apology.

"I don't know if this will work. . .or if I have enough strength," he admitted grimly.

"You said that once before," she replied, remembering their experiment on Ahch-To.

He made one last comment, blunt and honest: "It's going to hurt."

She nodded once to show she understood. It couldn't hurt much worse than being shot, could it?

His ungloved hand hovered over the blaster wound, just as hers had. He closed his eyes, concentrating all his energy on the challenge. His breathing steadied and the muscles in his face relaxed as he reached for the Force. He appeared calm, and she marveled at how easily he could push aside his worry and desperation; his years of studying and training with the Force became strikingly apparent.

She realized, belatedly, how her foolhardy arrogance had almost ended her life in trying to heal herself without much experience.

Familiar white light emanated from his palm. At first, she felt a brush of heat at the site of her injury which brought back memories of the time he'd administered the Force on her bruise; nothing unpleasant. As he continued his ministrations, however, the fiery sensation grew and grew until it became almost unbearable.

"It burns!" she cried as tears tracked down her cheeks.

"Regenerating the tissue gives off heat, remember?" he reminded her, once again mentoring her through the process in a patient voice. "A wound this deep requires a great deal of repair."

The lesson fell on deaf ears: she was on fire. Her body arched, trying to tear itself away from the source of its distress. In response, his gloved hand came between them, palm placed in the center of her chest to steady her, to keep her from floating away from him, to tether her to a corporeal realm. The pressure holding her in place felt firm and weighty, but not crushing or restrictive.

"Breathe," he instructed, voice so soothing it sounded like it came from another entity altogether.

She did the opposite, gnashing her teeth together and huffing through the pain.

The briefest flash of a smile caught her attention. "You're stubbornness will get you killed one of these days," he chided with affection. "But that day remains on the distant horizon."

It was over.

He pulled away just far enough to look at his efforts. Rey glanced down at her shoulder as well. Where there had been a ragged hole, there was now a thick, pink scar. Rolling her shoulder experimentally, Rey winced at the lingering ache, but the tears on her face were from another feeling entirely.

Raising her right hand, she swept the sweat from his brow before carding her fingers through his hair and bringing his forehead down to rest against hers. She sensed the exhaustion within him, could only imagine how taxing it had been for him to heal her. Her worried mind brought the memory of Luke Skywalker to the forefront; after intensive use of the Force on Crait, he'd disappeared.

Would Ben disappear too?

"You're trembling," he observed.

"I thought that was you."

She noticed, now, that her body shivered uncontrollably. Her shoulders and arms shook despite her attempts to stop them. The adrenaline had nearly worn off, leaving her feeling sluggish and drowsy, chilled to the core.

With a fluid movement, Ben stood and removed his cloak. Careful that he didn't disturb her sensitive shoulder, he draped the cozy material over her. Then he glanced back again, as if he'd heard something her ears couldn't.

A stroke of panic ran up her spine, sensing his alarm as well. She dreaded the answer to the question she had to ask. "What is it?"

"Footsteps."

"Get out of there." Her warning became a demand. "Come to me."

He bent down, adjusting the cloak and brushing away a sweaty strand of hair glued against her forehead. "Don't do anything foolish for my sake."

She wanted to reach out to him, to hold on and keep him safe, but her body wouldn't cooperate. Her eyes filled with tears she refused to shed because she wouldn't acknowledge this was the end. "This isn't goodbye, Ben."

He closed his eyes as though savoring the sound of his name on her cracked lips, then grimaced as he whispered, "They've found me."