#reyjustrey

[brooklynislandgirl]

♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚!!!!!

Pumpkin. My sweetest, kindest, and gentlest friend. You were a blessing to me when we were introduced. I found in you someone I absolutely love, and in the following years you have become actual family, in the best ways possible. Like a sibling I wish I had instead of the ones I got through accident of birth. You introduced me to a fascinating gentleman, and through writing you've given me one of my great literary loves. How do you even say thank you for that? Likewise you've always shared your personal writing, and I've eaten up each word with a spoon, living my best cat in a sunbeam life. We write the loveliest, most moving love story of the ages, and every post is a letter of admiration and friendship from one muse to the other. A bond between muns. And that extends to real life, as well. You know I'd stab my way through a million ~insert bad words here~ just to make your day a little easier. All 8s and infinities <3

{{and same-same goes for our Sand Gremlin}}

[ronmanmob]

⋆ NAME?: Pumpkinmun here, but Jen to friends

⋆ PRONOUNS?: she/her

⋆ MOST ACTIVE MUSE(S)?: Ronnie without a shadow of a doubt. I have others, @reyjustrey and @drsallyrothering, who you're welcome to visit though.

⋆ RP PET PEEVES?: Insta-shipping without mun consultation, bullying and anon-hate.

⋆ EXPERIENCE / HOW MANY YEARS?: I've been writing since I was about 18; RPing round here since 2015.

⋆ FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT?: All of them. I love to write all the things (the nopes in my rules excepted)

⋆ LONG OR SHORT REPLIES?: I prefer to write at length, but will try my hand and most anything except single line replies. Those I can't get my head round.

⋆ TIME TO WRITE?: I work full time but am around most days.

Tagged by: NO ONE I STOLE THIS OF MY DASH (from @brooklynislandgirl)

Tagging: Steal it off me too frens!

[lucile-little-universe]

CENTAUR REY Another one of my digital drawing, the second one ever. I have another version in my WIP, a more shy version like she's at a lake bathing and Ben surprises her or something like that but I need to work on it. It's to go with an idea of a fic where Ben, a centaur, thinks he's the last one of his kind and then he meet Rey and he has hope again. Ps : I'm trying to grow here, I've plan to *maybe* take commission so if you want to help me, please reblog my post, thanks

[amoreusous2]

they are screaming “Reylo is HOT” in this campaign!

[kylo-wrecked]

hunger .   give  my  muse  something  to  eat  /  drink .

"It's better than starving."

He held up a ration pack before her. Three greyish cubes and a smattering of silt in a palm-sized container, enough to last someone Kylo Ren's size a few precious days. 

Though he couldn't determine where she was, he could see the hunger all over her. Rey’s every motion, expression, and word was ruled by it. Hunger dwelt in the wanness of her cheeks, in the trembling hands she used to hold herself upright. She looked like a small, feral dunecat crouched in her den, a place left up to his imagination. That Rey was ravening and cold was all very real and deeply felt by him. Their being on opposite sides of what was 'looking a lot like a war' seemed more and more trivial in the face of her suffering.

For his part, Kylo wore a palpable weariness. His limbs were like ore pillars; his movements were leaden. So was his mien. His hair clung to the side of his face in wet strands. The weaponry laid out willy-nilly before him spoke of a mission possibly gone awry. His helmet was half-submerged in mud, and the Ren were nowhere to be seen. It seemed he made camp alone in a small clearing. A fire had already been going for fifteen minutes when the Northern copse pulled back like a curtain onto Rey's purview. Finally, the Force thrust them together across lightyears at a critical moment — not while one of them was training or in the 'fresher.  

"Take it," he said.

She wouldn't. She wasn't going to let him in. Kylo grit his teeth in resignation. 

"Fine."

He glanced at Rey with something like reproach, then tore the package open with his teeth, emptied its contents into a tin, poured in water from the shallow canteen suspended over the firepit, and stirred it together with a knife's handle. The bridge could collapse at any moment, so he had to work quickly. 

Kylo held the tin out to Rey, his face aglow with defiance and the light from the fire. No way she'd deny hot food, even if it was non-food, even if it dredged up her worst moments, memories that stung like sand. 

"This is senseless. You're being obtuse. Take it, or I'm going to pull you through."  

He'd no idea if that were even possible. He didn't know what would happen if he breached the faint boundary between them, only that he would do it. 

[thisisartbylexie]

Lexie’s Follower Celebration: @reyjustrey requested a Reylo kiss in the heat of a battle and oh boy that spoke so much to me!

[anachronistic-darkness]

||CLOSED STARTER for @reyjustrey ||

Trayous hoped he looked less nervous than he felt. The gentle blue glow of the archives' holoterminal calmed his anxiety somewhat, but the knowledge of what could happen if things went anything but smoothly was too much to ignore--especially this close to crunch time.

"Go, Q," he finally ordered, and with an affirmative whistle from the black astrodroid, the connection was established and he found himself in contact with the Millennium Falcon.

The figure that appeared on the Falcon's projector could have been mistaken for Kylo Ren at first glance, but with deliberate mistakes: His hair was much longer, to start with, reaching well past his shoulder blades; his posture was more refined, his robes less of a tabard style and much more reminiscent of a traditional Force user (though still black as night).

"Greetings from Malachor. This is Darth Trayous hailing the survivors of the Resistance, in response to General Organa's previous distress call. I regret we were unable to provide more expedient assistance, but we're here now. Please respond."

[sithroyal]

      @reyjustrey​

      Cold. Darkness. There had never been anything waiting for him in the beyond. No Force ghosts to guide him, none of his family, no one he could call a friend - he should have expected it, really. He’d driven everyone away from him in his lifetime, made sure that no one wanted him, and he supposed this was the universe’s way of telling him he succeeded.

Oddly enough, the warmth of her lips still rested on his and, for a brief moment, he thought that maybe he’d felt her holding his hand as he died. A passing dream, most likely, just his mind trying to comfort itself in his last moments. It’d been a nice thought though, that maybe she’d tried to give him something to hold on to, but he didn’t hold his breath.

More than that, he was aware of something being said to him. Repent. Atone. Fix. It made no sense to him. He couldn’t fix anything he’d done. 

Hear, feel, think...

No, he knew that voice. At least, he thought he did. Mom... It was a passing thought. Nothing but stray energy but, if only for a second, he felt a tug on his chest, as if two small hands were pulling him up out of... what?

His soul floated about the darkness, eyes never opening, but he felt the warmth that came with the place. It washed over him and wrapped around him. It felt like her. Rey had been a beacon, she’d warmed him so quickly within those two years, had totally turned his life on its head, had done what he couldn’t. So why did it feel as if he were laying on something? It was solid under his back and, as he started to come to, he felt the heat. 

Warmth. solid ground under his back, the shifting of sand. What?

Ben opened his eyes only to find that he was looking at the rusted guts of a metal dome. It reminded him of the old AT-AT series walkers and it certainly got his attention. Only as he shifted did the pain finally blaze through him. His right leg was a mess of pain and his ribs weren’t much better, he was injured. How?

No, he didn’t think Palpatine did this but something did. A pained noise left him as he forced himself to sit up, a shaking hand came up to his chest and he started to pull, clawing at the wound. “The fuck...?” This wasn’t Exegol, the Finalizer, or any place he recognized until dark eyes came up and found the opposite wall. 

Scratch marks.

Tallying the days. Rey. Without a single thought, he got up despite the soul shattering pain in his leg, just to put his hand on the wall. Yes. Yes. He’d seen it in her mind. He knew this place. But how did he get here? Where was she? ...How was he here? Was there another version of himself wandering the Finalizer as he was on Jakku? 

So many questions and yet they all fled him when he heard noise behind him. Ben turned quickly, just enough that he fell on the broken leg with a soft whine of pain. But there she was. He couldn’t begin to process anything she was saying as he leaned against the wall, a near hysterical laugh leaving him. 

“Feels like I just woke from a nightmare...” 

[tornbetweenthestorm]

⚓️ - What fatal error means you will instantly drop a thread?

|||Munday Meme||| still accepting

       There’s a few things that will make me drop a thread instantly. I think the first one would be if the other writer was consistently trying to play out how my character felt, or moving way too far ahead in actions. I’m usually pretty loose on that with his superiors, because FN-2437 is for the most part going to do whatever his superior says. 

       Another thing I don’t care for is a thread that has to be plotted every step of the way? If that makes sense. If something is playing out more like a D&D session than a roleplay thread I probably wont enjoy it. (Not that I don’t like D&D) Will I instantly drop the thread though? I feel like I would talk to them first, if that’s their style that’s great but I don’t click with it well. Sometimes we just don’t vibe and that’s okay!

       I think with most things I would always talk to the Mun first before I drop a thread, but if it’s something obvious like blatant disrespect, out of character in the thread, a topic I’m super uncomfortable with, or something along those lines then I would probably just drop and block. However! I have yet to block anyone in the rpc, though I have unfollowed.   

[goodlawman]

Continued from [x] @reyjustrey​

“Deputy US Marshal Raylan Givens.” Raylan took the outstretched hand in a firm yet amicable grip. Part of his job depending on his ability to read people, he figured she was a little uncomfortable with everything going on and wanted to put her at ease. Far as anyone could tell, Rey was just trying to stay out of trouble and that included the kin that might be bringing it into her life, no doubt having done it before. With his free hand, he pulled the wallet from his back pocket, showing her his ID with a soft smile. 

“They only told me what you told them,” he added in reassurance, glancing back at the assorted law enforcement officers milling around, “and I’m not here to make any kind of trouble for you. Turns out those that you filed a report on, they have had contact with a fugitive I happen to be lookin’ for so as to return him to his place of escape.”

He glanced back at the busy bullpen again and then leaned towards Rey, lowering his voice and careful to keep a respectful amount of space between them. “You hungry? I ain’t ate yet today and there was that little coffee shop I passed just a few doors down, smelled like their pastry case might have a new selection in it. I’ll buy if you don’t mind we talk there instead?”

[brooklynislandgirl]

A Token (meme)

There are moments where time stills for Rey - that seem to stretch and span infinity in seconds - and this, the jump-off before she declared her own personal war against the First Order, was one. She wasn't alone. She had allies around her - Resistance fighters and others of looser though tangential allegiance. But as she looked out of the Falcon's viewport onto the massed fleets of her enemy, she felt time slow. It slowed as she reached up to unclip the armour she wore. It slowed as she tugged at her pocket, retrieving what had been tucked closest to her heart. It slowed as she re-clasped clasps and re-buckled buckles. And it slowed yet more as she wound the ribbon Keni had gifted her as a girl around her wrist and through her fingers. She kissed it, pressed it tight to her lips and whispered to her Master - not present, disapproving of her being on the frontlines - that she loved her like she thought she would have loved a mother; that she missed her, and that she would come home to her again. This she swore on the Force as time sped forth once more; as the sentiment in her eyes was burned away and replaced with the iron will and the resolve her Master - her mother - had passed on to her.

Token Meme || Accepting

She could not meditate if her life depended on it. Every bit of fibrous tissue in her body was stiff as bark ~the living kind of death, that was a sacred honour amongst her kind, and what she hoped for, when her hundreds upon hundreds of years of torment finally came to it’s natural end, so that she might be planted over the grave of her Za’lali, there entwined with his bones forever~ and she could feel the fires of anxiety licking up through her chlorophyll.  All over the fate of one little desert gremlin.

The apprentice she never wanted, that she felt the Living Force had thrust upon her because it sensed for all that she would sooner poison herself than to admit she had been lonely.

The child who had grown into a woman and a warrior in her own right. The child she had never been able to bear for Anakin. The idea of General Organa-Solo, of the one they called Luke... all of it gets under her skin, up to and including the grandchild she should have raised. All of it soothed though at the idea of Rey taking the galaxy by its throat until it begs for mercy, then ripping out the throat of those upstarts who sullied everything she and Anakin had tried to build together.

She uncoils her limbs and begins to make her way toward her home ~and tries to think of it as something other than an empty nest~ when she’s stricken so powerfully by a whisper that it not her own thoughts but is poured into her from the Force.

She slowly bears her teeth. It isn’t exactly a smile. So it is very much that, at least as far as Melakeni Skywalker ever did. When she leaves her house again the doors are sealed and locked behind her. Her cloak whispers around her boots, the black armour worn only that once for effect on her apprentice’s psyche. Her sabre is at her side, worn and welcome this weight. As it has not been in quite some time. She goes to one particular spot in the endless green of her grass, and makes intricate hand gestures, eyes closed as she feels the energy rise up around her.  Doors retract as the platform rises automatically. It is an old fighter. One he hadn’t managed to crash, fly until it was nothing but bolts and worn parts. No one had ever really wondered where it had disappeared to when the Empire flexed with birthing pains. She’d have liked something not Nabooian, but she won’t complain.

She still doesn’t fly well. She still doesn’t enjoy it one single bit, but she can feel him in the seat. Putting her hands where they ought to be. Talking her through things like drag and hyper-space lanes.

Only when she’s in the air and hurtling toward the sky, does she breath out and reach for Rey.

I wouldn’t suppose you have room for one more old relic, little gremlin?

[dalphahale]

‘ any pet peeves? ’

* interview the muse

“People.”

[lucile-little-universe]

A WIP...

Guess the reylo fic

[cardinal-carvings]

@reyjustrey:  “Is somebody there?”

The words that were called out brought Archex up short-- prompting the man to halt in his footsteps as eyebrows furrowed faintly at the realization of just what was being said. He wasn’t particularly trying to sneak around, but he’d like to think of himself as not being too loud regardless of that factor.

Still, he found his voice-- no use in staying quiet and prompting a potentially bad reaction from whoever it was who had picked up on his presence, “Yeah,” Archex called out-- voice down so as not to potentially draw further attention if anyone else were in the vicinity, but loud enough to carry towards whoever had called out-- curiosity poking at his brain as to just who it might be. He didn’t recognize the voice, “I’m-- mostly just wandering aimlessly.”

Finally, Archex saw her-- having started towards the sound in a drive to sate his curiosity that now nudged him onward. Arms crossing loosely over his chest, as he almost seemed sheepish, “I can wander off in the other direction if you’d rather that?”

[kylo-wrecked]

for the lovely @reyjustrey:// { cont'd from here }

— ☾ —

<< Kylo Ren’s chambers, The Supremacy, 0400 hours >>

He is fresh out of the ‘fresher. Fully clothed and sitting on the edge of his sleeper with his eyes cast down on the tessellated carpet, deep in thought. The subtle crease in his brow, the slight opening and closing of his lips the only indication of arrhythmic, living motion. He could be part of a diorama amidst such stillness.

The weeks pass differently among the Order. They scream by like so many TIE fighters. How long has it been since he’s had a proper night’s rest? Or a shower long enough to penetrate the skin and muscle, warm his bones? How long ago had chasing sustenance itself become a kind of sustenance? How long had he lived on this vessel? Kylo Ren could ask any droid with a vocal input, and they would tell him exactly the number of days, right down to the minute.

A curl of damp, oil-black hair drips onto his shoulder, making greyish spots on his white shirt. He doesn't seem to notice. A medtech bauble drifts over his head and beeps idly, then back again, making the same careful monitoring sounds. The room is like the inside of a chronometer. Then something shifts. Not just the temperature, but the air pressure has changed. He has the sense of things moving, breathing with life. The clockwork is undone.

He looks up.

"Well."

Kylo says this with a trace of surprise. He wonders if Rey can see his stars as clearly as he can see her. He could imagine her cliffsides as she traversed them. He could feel the ocean without seeing it, the salty breeze on his face. Rey's island.

"Where is our little Jedi off to now?"

His expression is cool and detached, but his eyes brighten a little. He seems obliged to her company — or maybe it's a mere trick of the light.

[soloreborn]

[ look ] for your muse to catch mine staring

@reyjustrey

He was sat outside the small house but he was somewhere as far as the horizon he was staring into - if not further. A common thing these days. He wasn’t sure if he did it on purpose, to escape, or if he simply allowed it to happen, too tired, exhausted, to face his own thoughts.

He’d been healed, physically anyway. The droids made sure there was nothing wrong with him anymore. But his head was a different story. There was a lifetime of guilt and regret there and... how did one even start to chip at it?

He didn’t register her gaze on him at first, completely oblivious to it until he suddenly became aware of it and snapped his head towards her, realising how long she’d been looking at him without him noticing.

“Do you need help?” He asked, staring at her in return. She said she was going to work on her lightsaber so he left her to it, didn’t want his presence to influence that delicate process.