#treeso

[askbensolo]

Journal Entry #56: Birthday Party

I wasn’t planning anything for my birthday. But someone else was, and that someone else was Poe Dameron, and that something was inviting over my best buddies behind my back.

I came home from work around five-thirty. I did think something seemed a little off, ’cause I heard laughing inside the apartment, and then a bunch of shushing, and I was like, oh, great, Poe has “company” over, I’ll just change into my not-work clothes and make a sandwich and go hang out somewhere else—

—and then I opened the door, and Treeso and Amalia were there, along with Poe and Beebee-Ate, and they all shouted “Surprise!”

And, I was very much surprised indeed.

“Oh my gosh!” I said, or something like that—I’m not really sure what I said—and Treeso and I bro-hugged, and Amalia nodded and smirked at me, and Beebee-Ate started playing a little beepy birthday tune while Poe clapped me on the back.

I was shocked to see all three of ‘em in one place—Amalia, Treeso, and Poe. They don’t know each other. They’re all kind of from different times and places in my life—from my time at Luke’s school, from my college days, from my post-grad era. But I guess Poe figured out who all my best friends were and how to contact them, and here they all were now, and I had just been planning to be alone all night and pack for my move…but I guess it was more fun this way, hanging out with my buds on my birthday.

They all had fun, too. Roasting me and swapping embarrassing stories about me and generally giving me a hard time seemed to be the main event of the evening.

What can I say? I’m just that great at bringing people together.

The most interesting moment occurred when I was blowing out my candles. Poe and Treeso insisted on having exactly twenty-four candles on the cake, even though Amalia called them both idiots and said they were gonna burn the place down. But Poe and Treeso together proved to be an unstoppable force of unhinged chaos, so, twenty-four candles it was.

“Let’s all wish for Ben to go on his first date before he turns twenty-five!” said Treeso, clapping his hands.

“What’re you talking about? He’s already got a girlfriend,” said Poe, lighting the last candle.

“Not anymore—they broke up,” said Amalia, tipping back a bottle of beer.

And then they all looked at me.

“Bro, you got a girlfriend?” asked Treeso, stunned.

“You broke up with her?” asked Poe, surprised.

Amalia just looked at me and dipped her finger into the side of the cake and licked the frosting off of it without breaking eye contact.

“Had a girlfriend. Don’t have one anymore. Story’s over. Cake! Now,” I said, and blew out all the candles, and grabbed the cake cutter.

“Dude, you never tell me anything!” complained Treeso.

“I live with him and he never tells me anything,” remarked Poe.

“Stalk him online. It’s the only way,” advised Amalia.

Poe took the cake cutter and started cutting two slices (one of them was for Beebee-Ate, so he would “feel included”). “Well,” he said, “if I had known you guys were broken up, I sure wouldn’t have invited her.”

I choked on my cake. “Wait—what—is she coming?”

And, for a second, I was terrified. But, two seconds later, I felt this intensely powerful ache of hope—that I might see her again, that she’d be at the door, that the daydream I’d been having over and over might come at least a little bit true.

Amalia looked at me, and then looked at Poe. Poe looked at Amalia, and then at me. Treeso looked at the slice of cake he was cutting that was almost like a whole fourth of the cake. Beebee-Ate looked at all of us, his head swiveling around.

“Uh…no,” Poe said. “She’s…she’s not coming.”

“But—are you just saying that, or is she actually not coming?” I demanded, my heart pounding. “If…if she was…already on her way, or something, I—I don’t want you to tell her not to come—”

“Ben, she’s not coming,” Amalia confirmed. “I messaged her this morning. She’s still on Ryloth.”

I turned to look at her. “Why’d you message her?” I asked.

Amalia shrugged. “Wanted to check on her. It’s your birthday. Thought it might be hard for her. Didn’t know if you two had plans together, or something, before the breakup.”

“I didn’t think you two were friends,” I said, kind of surprised.

“Why not?” Amalia shrugged. “I can be nice. Sometimes.” She started cutting her own slice of cake. “But, you’re right—it’s easier for me and her to be friends, now that you and her aren’t together.”

“Well…glad it was good for someone, at least,” I said bitterly. And, suddenly, the cake didn’t taste so great anymore.

“Uh…sorry,” I muttered. “I’ll…I’ll be right back.”

I pretended to go to the bathroom. But really, I just sat on my bed in the dark, and tried to very politely ask the sinking weight in my chest to leave, so I could do my best to enjoy my birthday and the fact that all my friends were here.

Well. Not all of them.

The sinking weight swelled up in my stomach, and reached yearningly down toward my toes.

I found myself tugging at the friendship bracelet around my left wrist, feeling the warp and weft between my forefinger and thumb. The colored threads were becoming muddy with dirt because I tugged on it a lot these days. I blinked rapidly, trying to keep my tears at bay. It wasn’t bedtime yet—the tears would have to wait. I swallowed really hard a couple of times but I couldn’t really get the lump in my throat to go away.

…What are you doing, dear?

“Thinking about you,” I whispered under my breath. “Like always.”

My. You do think about me a lot, don’t you?

“Every day.” I licked my lips, and choked out, very quietly: “Do you think about me?”

Well…ah…I’m not sure, Ben. I…assume that I would. It seems like I would. Do you think that I would?

I shrugged, and rubbed the bracelet between my fingers some more.

An imaginary hand graced my shoulder.

Love…please…you shouldn’t be sitting all alone in here, thinking of me. Your friends are here—they came all this way to see you. Truly, I’m flattered…but you know I wouldn’t want you crying in the dark. Not on your birthday. Well, not ever—but especially not on your birthday. And especially not when three of your dearest friends are all here to celebrate you.

“I wish you were here instead,” I whispered. “I know I shouldn’t. But I do.”

Well…perhaps we will celebrate another of your birthdays together. Only time will tell. But…for now…do you think you could please try to focus on the present? On the things you do have, that you are fortunate to have? And not what you don’t?

I sighed heavily and smeared the palm of my hand across my forehead.

I know, love. I know it’s very hard. But, you are very brave. You are very strong. I know that you can. Please. Don’t waste this time. Not on my account.

“Okay,” I said. “Okay. Okay.”

And I held my hands out in front of me.

And for the very first time since the end of August, I untied the bracelet of green and pink and blue.

Held the full length of it in my hands, stretched out across my palms.

Looked at it, and thought about how long it had taken to wind the strings together, and imagined her fingers working the strands.

Pressed my lips to the woven threads.

Then…rolled it up very carefully, and put it in the box on my nightstand where I keep all my earrings, and took in a deep breath, and let it go…

…and then walked back into the living room, with one hand in my pocket, and the other running through my hair, and my very best attempt at a smile.

[askbensolo]

Oh, wow…

FRICK not crying not crying not crying not crying—

Thanks, guys. It…wow. Really means a lot. You have no idea.

Thanks for putting all that together, Amalia. You’re a pal.

Love ya. All of you. Thanks.

@askbensolo happy 24th birthday, ben!

12.10.29ABY

dear ben solo

happy birthday. congrats on making it this far

i know you and me probably didn't think we'd. like. still be here at this point huh

a lot of people love you. which is hard to believe, i know.

but they do

i know this because it took a lot longer than expected to put this holocard together

anyway. not tryna get all sappy.

hope you have a good year

—a

@askreysolo said: hiiiiiiiii big bro!!! happy bday!!!!!!!!! you are even more ancient nowww!! you know, I always felt like I didn't get that much time with you before you moved away. since you're so OLD and stuff. so it will be fun for you to live at home again!! well...I think it will be fun. try not to be too annoying and weird. anyway HAVE A GOOD BIRTHDAY!!!! from THE coolest little sister ever (Rey!!!)

BENNY BOYYY! The man. The myth. The most legendary wingman of all time. Happy birthday, dude! Not a day goes by that I don't miss seeing your weird-ass face. My last two years at UNaboo sure wouldn't have been the same without you! So sad to hear you're going offworld soon...come back to Naboo sometime! I want to see you eat SIX blue slug-beetles. Love, Treesie boy

Dearest Hope Child/Little Han Solo May The Force Be With You And May You Never Go Bald Looking Forward To Seeing You At Life Day 24 Is A Very Big Number For A Human So I Expect You To Eat Twice As Much This Year With Love Auntie Malla

hey hey hey buddy have a happy bday! beebee-ate says happy bday too thanks for bein our roomie! we're gonna miss you poe (and beebee-ate)

@margindoodles2407 said: Happy birthday, Ben! Here's to another year of survival :) All my best, Margin

Anonymous said: Hey, Ben. Happy 24th birthday. :) I've followed your story for a long time, and kind of grew up alongside you. I know you don't know me at all, but you—and all the things you share—really mean a lot to me. You're a guy with lots of feelings, both good and bad, and I've always really connected with that. I hope you continue writing. Even if you need to take a break sometimes, I hope you keep on checking in with us and letting us know how you're doing periodically. You were 15 when you started this blog, and you're 24 now—I hope I get to know how you're doing in another ten-or-so years. :) Thanks for everything, buddy.

^ look solo it's your favorite guy

in conclusion.

happy birthday ben solo

[washwashgalaxy]

Simon thinks he is very wiseHe doesn’t like to take adviceEspecially from his wifeWho is always worried about his lifeHe had to  cut a branch from a treeSo he got the ladder quickly His wife saw what he was doing And started to say something But Simon told her do not startCutting a branch is an artHis wife stood there watching While Simon was cutting He was doing it all wrongShe knew he would…

[maskedhatter]

Moonlit night Hope you All enjoy #moon #spreadlove #artistofisnstagram #instart #moonart #moon🌙 #artistsoninstagram #instagram #blue #treeso # https://www.instagram.com/p/BqXWxgfFnW2/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1cvpz9mehg8yp

[treesos]

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[danoriathemedic]

Goodbye and Goodnight

Dee Dee stood, quietly at the grave of Eindra'che Ironclaw, The Mortician had a upset yet, quiet expression to say the least. Staring at the carving in the stone, the design. She peered at the name, the date of his death. She was, uncertain... She knew death came for everyone, not just from warfare, no one was immortal, no one can live for ever. But she was upset, betrayed? She was very much feeling conflicted. Oh how she wanted to tear up his grave, and bring him back, curse him, and answer her... But he wouldn't now would he?..No...No he was now a part of the Dream...a part of what he so wanted, and that was rest. She knew he always tried to hard, she always did try to cheer up Einny Ein...but even now she felt...like she failed her friend. He had not said a single word to no one...Maybe someone, she did not know, but to her, it was as it is. An end, of someone she really felt was comfortable enough to talk with, to trust, now there were very very few she did. As she would kneel down and set roses by his grave.  She glanced about, no one was here, she would then go about her task. Creating a series of sigils, with Crystals beneath the earth. She would set up something nice. She felt war was far to close, ever to near, as she would finish the task at hand. She would change out the filter's, for the Azerite, now that her body was molded to the flow of power. She felt it course through her like a live wire. Her ghostly blue eyes go to the bright arcane blue of old, as she would create the spell. Tossing the crystal to the top point of the tree where it floats now above, she would create the sigil of power. A barrier would encase the tree, the treeSo that no one could do his tree harm. Heaving, she sighs, as she then tested it, her gloves would not pass, nor her weapon. But the cat was able to cross back and forth. Nodding in satisfaction, she would find a spot to sit, Opening up an elaborate case, the item within, she cradles in her hands a violin that was beyond words to describe, but perfection in the eyes of Dee Dee. Ebony polished wood with silverline streaks, giving it a marbled touch, the sides that curved were of pure green jade, as if ivy had taken root and grown all along the sides, the leaves curving softly to almost appear to hold the delicate instrument together. The face if it near the opening on both sides of the string, was a black jade male elf bowing, to a white jade female elf curtsy's. The blacks eye was a saphire, the whites eye was a emerald. She stares at it, for a long long time. Running her now ungloved stitch scarred fingers along the surface. She'd tune the silver thread, blessed to never break, she was told were the silver of the moons tears turned to string. Once finished, she would raise the bow, like the wood, but wrapped in jade ivy, would she then begin to play a mournful song that drifted throughout the Hollow's foggy night.

The Mournful melody, haunting, sweet and delicate. Would play, like a song of worship, it would carry on the winds through out the Hollow. Her song played from the heart. A tribute to a friend, a companion, a true honorable warrior that she played in his name this day beneath the sky. As if hearing, the Moon would illuminate his tree, the tree would blossom, the the creatures of the night would come, and listen. As she played this piece for the Worgen, for Ein, her friend...

Upon finishing, the moons light fading, she smiles, softly as she takes her mask off, slides her cowl back, as she would walk over towards his grave. Kneeling before it. The mortician would play, to the light, and to Elune. To bless her friend in the rest he thus so deserved. And may he find peace in the Dream he so sought out to find. Once finished, she would re gear and stand once more. She turns away, as she thinks back on his words last spoken. Whats important to you. She tilts her head, as she looks towards the Hollow, and then towards his resting place," My family...my friends...Dee Dee...will make you proudy proud Ein...do better, Dee Dee will." she says, as she walks back towards the gate, Carrying her case. Jim the guard had some tears in his eyes as she passed, his surprise was evident upon seeing her. And the fact she had been the one to play such a haunting song. As she returns to her Laboratory.

[geneluxury285]

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[quarryviewbuildinggroup]

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[askbensolo]

Is that an updated bio I see👀👀👀. Glad to see you’re still out there forging your own path in life Ben

Dang, you caught me! I didn’t know anyone was still checking my blog after all this time. Haha.

It’s been a while, huh? I wasn’t sure if I’d ever post again, just ‘cause life is busy. But yeah. I work for a news publication on Naboo now, so most of the time people are telling me what to write and how to write it. I like my job, but I was thinking about when I used to run my blog and write whatever I wanted.

I was looking through my old posts and remembering what my life used to be like. The thoughts I used to have. The things I used to be afraid of. Feels weird. Like, was that guy really me? Was I really that kid?

Actually, my roommate Treeso found my blog when we were in college and dude…I swear he will never let me hear the end of it. He walks past me when I’m chilling on the couch or something and he’s just like “Pssst Vader more like Bae-der.” Or we’ll be hanging out with the boys at the cantina and he’s all like “Hey guys let’s do a dramatic reading of Ben’s BLOOOOG!” and I die a little inside.

But hey, I own my teenage self and who I used to be. It’s just part of my story. I guess that’s another reason why I thought about posting again… I feel like the current iteration of me—the guy in his early twenties just trying to make rent and do laundry and figure out what to do with his life—deserves to have his chapter recorded, too.

[askbensolo]

Woke up this morning and stumbled to the kitchen, and my roommate is pretending he doesn’t understand Basic. He will only speak to me in Gunganese and expects me to do the same.

Meesa not awake enough for this.

[askbensolo]

I was just scrolling through your blog a few days ago, hoping you were okay. And here you are again! How are you? What kind of stuff are you writing for the Daily Sector?

Hey anon! Yep, I’m okay! I’m actually doing a lot better these days. Heh.

Yeah, so I’m living on Naboo now, which is located in the Chommell Sector. The news outlet I write for is called The Chommell Sector Daily (or The ChommSec Daily for short). They mostly have me on local news in the Theed area, so like local politics, city life, community events, that sort of thing.

Eventually I’d love to write more opinion pieces on social issues, instead of trying to wax poetic about the Theed Farmer’s Market and Craft Fair for like the twentieth time. I’ve become particularly interested in human/Gungan relations in Naboo, for example. My roommate Treeso Wonga is a Gungan and a solid dude. I used to have a lot of stereotypes about Gungans, and getting to know him has pretty much turned all of that on its head.

I actually minored in Nonhuman Studies at U of Naboo and it was—well, it was kind of a mixed bag to be honest, but when I did actually learn things, it was really interesting and thought-provoking.

But for now, I’m writing about whatever new pizza place opened in downtown and how Theed was voted one of the most beautiful cities in the Naboo system. Real life-changing stuff. Honestly, I don’t know why they don’t just replace me with a text generation droid.

[askbensolo]

Treeso and I said we’d hang out before he left. And boy, did we.

I drink sometimes, but as a rule I try not to overdo it. I don’t like feeling like I’m not in control of myself, you know?

Well, I overdid it.

See, at the cantina, they have this thing called The Chommell Sector Flight. It’s a mix-and-match menu of 36 craft beers, sourced from each of the 36 worlds in the sector. You pick six of ‘em to build your flight of sample glasses.

Well, ol’ Treesie boy decided we had to try them ALL.

Normally, I’m Treeso’s impulse control. That sounds like an absurd quantity of alcohol, I thought. I have work tomorrow, I thought.

But this is our last hurrah before Treeso moves out, I thought.

So…we ordered six flights. Treeso put more of it away than I did, but…yeah. We took a taxi home after that. And then I laid on the bathroom floor and cried ‘cause I felt so garbage. I think Treeso had fun though.

Guess what. I still made it to work today. ‘Cause I’m insane. Luckily for me, everyone at today’s team meeting was too busy circling back, dialing in, and piggybacking off of so-and-so to notice that I was mentally floating into the far reaches of space, merely a dead-eyed husk of a shell of a being.

…Which, to be honest, isn’t too far off from my normal reaction when a meeting devolves into a debate about whether or not “piggybacking” is anti-Gamorrean hate speech.

I’m feeling better now. But…yeesh. Not doing that again.

I’m gonna miss Treeso, though. I thought I hated guys like him—the class clowns, the party animals, the gym rats (or amphibians?). I guess I can be kind of judgmental. But hey, maybe I’m not always right about everything…

…Except I’m right about how Armitage and Poe are two of the most annoying nerfherders in existence. Obviously.

[askbensolo]

Whew, what a crazy week. Things are finally winding down. Spent most of today helping Fannie get settled, and also tracking down random knickknacks Treeso left behind so I can pack a box to send to him. I’d forgotten about his Gungan army miniature collection…he used to hide the figures in random places to annoy me. I just found General Jar-Jar Binks hiding in my underwear drawer.

I have so much room in the bedroom now. But I can’t take up too much space, ‘cause I’m gonna have to share the room again come September. (With whom? Great question, you have one day left to cast your vote…)

Fannie’s taking the living room. Honestly, it’s a pretty sweet deal for her—the air conditioning unit is in there. Because, for some reason, it’s the year 29 After the Battle of Yavin and we have flying cars and droids nearly indistinguishable from sentients, but I live in an apartment that can’t have air conditioning in both rooms—something something landlords. Yeah, yeah, Mr. Property Manager, my apartment’s a historical unit, a well-preserved relic of Theed’s rich heritage, blah blah blah. I’m a corporate news underling now; I know how to market stuff too.

Ugh, and it’s getting so hot here. When I leave for work in the morning I’m already covered in sweat. I’m gonna have to become one of those douchebags with the tank tops cut all the way open on the sides, since I would like to wear something around the house at least vaguely approximating a shirt, if I’m living with a girl.

I haven’t told my parents yet about Fannie moving in. I one-hundred-percent guarantee that they will make it Weird and A Thing.

But I did mention it to Rey, who, fortunately, gets that we’re just friends. Even if her reasoning is that I’m “super dumb and butt-ugly,” and Fannie’s “too pretty for me.” But hey…I’ll take it!

[askbensolo]

So I previously said that I’m no longer sweater boi, since I started working out and got jacked and confident, but it has come to my attention that I basically live in my UNaboo hoodie, so…I guess I’m still sweater boi.

Not for the next few months, though. It’s starting to heat up here. Treeso said that’s one reason he’s looking forward to moving back to Otoh Gunga (also known as Gungan City). The entire city is underwater, so it’s a lot cooler down there. He said he might even move this summer if we can find someone to take his spot quickly enough.

I didn’t mention the roommate thing when I visited my family last weekend. I didn’t want Mom’s gears to start turning. Because I am not moving back home—I hate my old room and all the memories attached to it. And I love my family, but I like my space.

Weird, huh? I spent all that time as a kid agonizing about having to one day leave my parents, just to grow up and agonize about the thought of having to move back in.

[askbensolo]

Hoooooo boy.

Dang I'm real sorry you had to go through that Ben, that sucks all over.

I have to say though, I think you maybe dodged a blaster bolt here.

A relationship ought to be made up of people with good communication and similar values and expectations, and if those arn't there, there really isn't much point to it.

It seems like both of you definitely have a roadblock in communication going, and while that could definitely be overcome, truth is it sounds like Fanny has very different wants/needs/expectations for her future.

She seems to definitely expect there to be some sort of physical relationship eventually. Wether she just expects it due to thinking that's just how "relationships" work, or something she actually wants for herself, just on her own time table, it does sound from what you wrote that she is at least more interested/affected by sex then you are.

It also sounds from her saying she wants to wait for her first kiss to be with someone she's engaged to, and that she's liked you for years but was willing to suffer in silence that she's a romantic at heart. She will want you to do romantic things for her in order to feel loved and appreciated.

And if neither sex nor romance are things you feel like you could ever want, I wouldn't go through with this. Both of you will just end up miserable, and neither of you deserve that.

Best of luck man, and sorry again that you have to deal with this

Hiiiii I'm sober tonight but I had a pretty good day today so I think I can handle this one on jellyfruit sparkling water alone.

So…the idea of romance is beginning to grow on me, even if it’s hard for me to pick out what makes it different from friendship. I can kind of sort it out by asking myself whether the things I’d like to do with her are different from things I’d like to do with my college buddies, and—yeah. Yeah, they are. Sorry, Treeso ol’ pal, but I’m not about to slow-dance in the kitchen with you—not without an unhealthy amount of alcohol, anyway. I’m probably never gonna be as much of a hopeless romantic as Fannie is, but…I think there are things I could learn. I even think I could kiss her one day. Just…just not yet.

But…sex is different. I don’t know if…I can ever do that.

And you're right. That's a whole ‘nother thing to think about in this whole mess. At first, I thought Fannie and I were alike, since she's so…you know…vanilla. But I know she wants to be married, and she wants to have children, and...she probably wants other things too, like you said.

Part of it is just how I've always been. As if there was some kind of developmental stage that just never occurred for me (psychologically, I mean). But I think some of it has to do with...Snoke. He took residence in my mind for years, and although I was sixteen when he first made contact, who knows how long he was there before that? And then eventually he won my trust and affections, and began to meet with me outside of my mind...and even though the memories are fuzzy...I remember certain things. He used to hold me in his arms while I cried. Cradle my face in his hands. Run his fingers through my hair. I kissed him on the cheek once, in the sunken hollow of his scars. Don't get me wrong, he and I never did anything weird together, but—

...No, what am I saying? Everything I just said is super weird. Aren’t I insane, trying to claim it wasn't weird I kissed an ancient raisin freak on his nasty, crusty face when I was a teenage boy—

But it was also the things he did to me mentally that stick with me. He used to probe my thoughts at night, and even though he could do that without actually touching me, it was...just as bad as it sounds. I remember being scared and skinny and sixteen, lying on my back and staring at the ceiling, trying to keep still while he entered my head. Trying to relax so that it wouldn’t hurt as much. I’d feel his presence pushing against the perimeter of my mind, harder and harder, until my resistance snapped, like a rubber band stretched to its limit, and then it was like my soul ruptured and bled out all around me on the bed while his cold bony hands were feeling around my brain, and pulling stuff out, and examining things, and rearranging them, while I kind of went into shock and laid there frozen with tears streaming down my face and waited for him to be done—

Actually no I don't want to talk about this anymore. Throwing up in my mouth just a little bit.

...Sparkling water break. Ahh, the refreshing taste of carbonated water that was once in the same room as someone imagining a jellyfruit.

But, yeah…I just can’t think about being naked with someone, without being reminded of how that felt.

Um—I wasn’t physically naked with him. Again, I hate that that’s something I legitimately need to clarify. Just…naked in every single other sense of the word, to the point that I may as well have been.

And…it’s hard for me sometimes, because it sort of makes me feel like…like I’m not a guy or something. I mean, I know I’m a guy, I just mean…most guys aren’t afraid of sex. Quite the opposite, in fact. You remember I was homeschooled, right? Well, I learned a lot of new things in college. And I learned to pretend like I wasn’t afraid, you know, when the fellas were hanging out and swapping stories, and I’d just sit there, and try to laugh at the appropriate times…

I kind of told Treeso a little bit, since we were close buds. Not about Snoke specifically, but just…that something bad had happened to me when I was a teenager. Treeso was a solid dude, despite presenting like your typical frat bro, and he started taking me to the gym and joked that he was gonna make sure I got jacked so no one could ever hurt me again. I don’t think Snoke would be deterred by my biceps…but I did get a lot more confident.

And more physically attractive. I mean. Come on. I know I look good. I like looking good. But it never changed how I felt about…you know.

So…yeah. I never really worked on addressing this particular little trauma, since A) um…AUGHHHHHHHGHHGHHH and B) it didn’t seem like a problem, since I was so sure I was gonna be single forever. When this whole thing with Fannie started, I thought about it only a little...and part of me was like, hey, maybe she’d be okay with not...really...doing that?

But…that’s kind of a huge ask, isn’t it. It doesn’t make sense to me, but sex is kind of a big deal to most people, huh.

...Who knows. Maybe it would have been to me, too, if I hadn’t been…if Snoke hadn’t…

...I mean...what if this isn't just "how I am"? What if he made me this way, and now there's just a crucial part of my adult self that never got to form, that's broken, that I’ll never experience the same way other people do, that I can never get back, and...that I can never offer her…

...Oh Force. The sparkling water cannot save me. I know I like her. I know I love her. I'm even pretty sure now that I'm in love with her. But everything's all wrong, and I'm all wrong, I'm so screwed up, I'm screwed up in ways I've never fully realized, and probably screwed up in ways I don't even know yet—I mean look at me I’m not even a real man I mean what an absolute loser how can I look so damn good without a shirt but totally freak at the thought of getting in bed?? I'm such a weak kriffing beta failure I freaking hate myself and I bet she’d only end up hating me too and—and—and—okay, calm down, Ben, calm down, keep it chill…

…Okay. So. Clearly, this will not be my last time thinking about this. I am very tempted to throw it out of my brain and never think about it again, but…no. This feels…important to me.

Note to self. Need to buy more sparkling water.

[askbensolo]

Ben, did you ever eat bugs when you were younger? Y'know like you were channeling your inner Anakin

Yes. Yes I did. As well as other things. Truly wonderful, the mind of a child is. I don’t know why I did that, but hey, the heart wants what it wants…

Oh my gosh. Dude. Wanna hear a college story? ‘Cause I ate a live bug in college. In fact, I ate five of them.

I’ll set the scene. Good ol’ UNaboo. Junior year. My first year, actually, since I transferred in. A fall semester party. The Osk Trill Osk frat house. Enter Ben Solo, twenty years old, tall but scrawny, still in his ugly sweater era, dragged into the tableau by a twenty-one-year-old Treeso Wonga, his new friend from NHS 101: Introduction to Nonhuman Studies.

“I don’t think my mom would want me here,” Ben says, fear in his eyes, a college junior with a freshman soul. “Is it like in the holofilms? Are people gonna be, like…doing stuff?”

“Relax, Solo,” says Treeso, pushing him forward with a solid hand to the back. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We’re here to have fun!”

Osk Trill Osk is a co-ed, mostly-Gungan fraternity. Ben, at this time, has mostly only ever interacted with humans and near-human species, and even those he has barely interacted with. We’re looking at a guy who was homeschooled from age five, practically lived in his bedroom till nineteen, and can count all the friends he’s ever had on one hand. And now he’s standing awkwardly in the middle of a loud and crowded room with a bunch of eighteen-to-twenty-two-year-olds, but he feels like he’s twelve.

The others are friendly enough. They offer him drinks and they offer him things that aren’t drinks and one girl who’s maybe already had a bit too much to drink thinks he’s cute and offers him something else. But the looming threat of Leia Organa-Solo hovers over the boy, along with his own anxious inhibitions and fairly cautious nature, and he declines them all.

“I’m, uh, not twenty-one yet,” he says, naively thinking the excuse is watertight, but a rousing chorus of “neither are we!” shatters the illusion at once.

“I mean, I like following rules,” he says instead, with eyes so big you could read the humiliation in them from a lightyear away—but no one else in the room is in a state to be that observant. Nor are they in a state to spend even one of the brain cells they’re all trying to kill off on thinking about what a loser Ben is. But Ben, however, now has many brain cells that have devoted themselves entirely to this purpose, and he spends the next hour stressed-out and sober, thinking about what a loser he is, and how he can prove he’s not.

Enter the blue slug-beetles, which someone suddenly brings in a crate of, much in the same way one would bring in a six-pack of beer. There is a series of cheers from the Gungans in the room.

The slug-beetle is a bright blue insect about the size of the palm of your hand, and has the curious distinction of being native to both Naboo and Tatooine, with the ability to thrive in both wetland and desert. On Naboo, they are found in the eastern swamps, crawling in the mud amidst the roots of the pelote trees. They are a Gungan delicacy, and Gungans, with their strong teeth and long tongues, are well-suited to cracking the beetles’ hard shells and slurping up the juices. Treeso and several other Gungans begin to do so immediately, while some of the non-Gungan guests look on, some with fascination, some with disgust.

Ben Solo is not a Gungan. He is, however, an absolute freaking idiot. Through some insane inspiration, he decides that he is going to prove how cool he is by being the first human to eat a blue slug-beetle. He puts his hand in the crate.

It’s alive, first of all. These slug-beetles have been prepped for consumption by the removal of their wings, the stubs of which are clipped off in straight lines and flitter nervously as the beetles struggle vainly to survive another day. But even without flight, Ben’s beetle squirms in his hands, its several legs tickling his palms as he tries to prevent its escape.

This moron, frantic not to embarrass himself by having to chase a slug-beetle around the room, finally gives up on figuring out how to eat it. He settles for slapping his palm against his mouth, throwing back the beetle like a handful of pills. The legs tickle his tongue instead of his hands. In a panic, he champs down on it to end its life, and swallows it, the hard fragments of shell scraping the insides of his throat on the way down.

And guess what? Nobody freaking saw.

Damn.

So then. Of course. What other conclusion is there? He has to do it again. Reluctantly, he reaches once more into the crate of crawling beetles.

Mind you, this buffoon is fully sober. He has nothing and no one to blame for his stupid decisions. He’s just…like that.

He picks up the second bug. Probably, he should have stopped and waved and said something like, “Hey, guys, watch me eat this bug!” (though in retrospect, I’m kind of glad he didn’t), but this dude had pretty bad social anxiety at the time, and such a prospect was unthinkable.

So…Ben Solo eats his second slug-beetle. And again. Nobody freaking sees him do it. Although it does go down a little smoother.

Well. Now he’s committed to the bit. Committed enough to grab a t-h-i-r-d slug-beetle, but for some reason not committed enough to say “hey guys watch me eat this bug” because that would involve calling attention to himself, which is exactly what he’s attempting to do, except no, he doesn’t want to make himself noticed, he just wants to be noticed.

Third slug-beetle goes down—similarly unseen. It’s looking like Ben prayed too hard at the beginning of the party for people not to look at him, because, yeah, that’s exactly what’s happening right now. Sure, he could just call it there and shrug it off and laugh at himself for eating three slug-beetles for nothing, but…you know? The sunk-cost fallacy is one hell of a drug.

He’s getting the hang of it. Down goes the fourth beetle. One of the Gungans looks at the crate and goes, hey, where’d all the beetles go? They went fast, huh? And Ben Solo’s like, oh, someone’s looking, now’s my chance. He grabs the fifth bug and puts it in his mouth and imagines the sweet, sweet taste of notoriety.

Well, he was getting the hang of it. But at this point, this stupid neophyte college boy is sweaty and dehydrated and has nothing in his stomach but hydrochloric acid and five blue slug-beetles and a bunch of social anxiety and his body decides, yeah, okay, show’s over, we’re done here. Pack it up, boys.

So, everyone’s watching when Ben Solo slaps his hands over his mouth and stumbles over to a conveniently-placed garbage can and keels over and…you know, un-eats all the bugs.

“Yooo, I thought you said you weren’t gonna drink!” says Treeso, pulling back my hair while I freaking die, and someone else says they can see why I don’t drink, since we’ve only been there an hour and I’m already losing my guts. And from that point on everyone thinks I’m just, like, the worst lightweight ever.

And? To this day? No one will kriffing believe me that I ate five bugs. Like…seriously?? If I was gonna lie about myself for clout, you really think that that’s what I’d be going with?? Ben Solo, the bug-eater???

Anyway…yeah. I present myself before you. Ben Solo, eater of bugs.