inappropriately timed force bond moments (both nsfw and humor approaches)
dream-sharing
emotional bleed/transference (from rey, involving other parties)
inappropriate force bond voyeurism on rey/poe or rey/finn
mid-conversation force bond interruption
The Rise of Skywalker- Cross-galaxy chase of the Resistance
anything related to ben solo, but especially:
snoke confessionals with family or friends of family
returning to the light
smuggler life style
jedi knight ben
resistance-fighter ben
The Rise of Skywalker- Force Ghost communications w/ Rey
anything related to supreme leader kylo ren, but especially:
fall via coup
resistance fighter reconditioning (gen or nsfw)
force ghost visits from anakin/luke/rey/leia/snoke
defeat by the resistance, and subsequent aftermath
The Rise of Skywalker- Mole Discovery w/ Hux
canto bight:
shady weapons deals
picking up prisoners
recruitment
obligatory dinner party
general casino shenanigans
beach party
basically any reason you can think of to use canto bight as a setting piece
A note on romance: I will ship all of the new trilogy characters with Kylo Ren (except Snoke/Family). But I have no interest in exploring domestic-style takes on them. Thank you for understanding.
[Ben clears his throat, trying to sound less exhausted than he is. He fails. Fortunately, he's a difficult man to insult. That's what having no self-esteem does to a person.]
Actually, I'm just--talking. In my experience, its a little difficult to just talk yourself out of binders.
[She mentions his 'abilities', and he starts laughing nervously. He can't help it -- its just so ridiculous. And yet also undeniable, given what he had just done.
the sound startles her because at first she's like oh of course he's crying. i'd be crying too. but no. she turns to look at him, eyes widening slightly. who is this asshole? she purses her lips, dissatisfied with that response on pretty much every possible level. ]
[ and it doesn't need to happen all at once. she considers him now, his fatigue. it would be easy to go in now and force him to turn, but … it would be a better show to take her time with this. these are the justifications she leans on, but she is not entirely obtuse to the fact that there's something else there. his arguments are not entirely without appeal. ]
Is there another way you'd prefer that I restrain you?
[ there's something too impatient about the way that she asks — digging at him for being choosy in his prison — for it to be taken as anything untoward. ]
she does, however, consider him again, reevaluating. he'll take time. patience. and, maybe, there's a better way to do this. she's not sure what that is yet of course — she's never had to find a better way to do anything than force — but she's at least starting to entertain the question. ]
If you wanted freedom, you should have come willingly.
[He says it without looking up, in his now permenant pouting tone of voice. At least she did him the favor of exhausting him (phrasing?) so he will at least have a chance of passing out to slumber, instead of no chance at all.]
ben's binders come open with a twitch of kira's fingers, his slumped posture almost takes him straight out of the metal rack without them to support him. she doesn't move to assist in any way, even though he's probably close to collapse at this point. ]
Ben’s eyes snap open roughly about the same time the binders click open, adrenaline rushing to respond as he nearly fails to catch his own weight on too-long legs. He grips the chair like a lifeline, stepping to try and rebalance himself only to find that his legs are both jello and asleep from non-use. Ultimately, he ends up on his hands and knees, shoulders quivering and fingertips full of pins and needles.
But he finds enough strength to look up at Kira, completely and wordlessly baffled.]
[ she struggles to identify this feeling of compassion for what it is, but … she knows that the way snoke did this to her is not the only way. she thinks of organa's face, of the warmth she had felt in ben's mind when she'd first—
it soothes the aching void in her chest. just a little. it's selfishness, made to perform the outward expression of kindness. she wants to see more of that, to feel … something. anything but pain. and as a result, she does not want him to suffer pointlessly in here; it would be a waste.
he's right about one thing. no one can make her do something she doesn't want to do, and she doesn't want exactly this.
but not exactly what he's asking for either. ]
Get up. [ there's no softness about her voice. ] Follow me.
[Well — she hasn’t killed him yet. Following her seems like a not super great idea, but she has already proven that she could stop him without much difficulty. So, with some difficulty because of his exhaustion, he stands (using the chair to support himself as he does) and moves toward her. His bootsteps start heavy as he forces feeling back into his knees and toes.
He wants to ask her why, but like a scolded animal, it seems he has at least started to learn when to sit and when to speak.]
[ for a purpose such as this, she's a lead from the front sort. the door slides open without any clear indication of what she did to make it happen, so it's obvious that she wants to remind him of the power she holds to keep him here.
there's a snappy purpose to her stride, but she's also not moving faster than he can follow in his present (pathetic) state. she had, after all, been the one to reduce him to it. she should be aware of the limitations it poses.
the halls of her shuttle are mostly empty, but for a pair of stormtroopers on patrol and what looks like a low level officer supervising maintenance work. there's little question where the rest are — FN-2187 and his stolen weapons would need their attention.
kira doesn't invite conversation, and her presence dissuades questions and commentary from the others around the shuttle as well. no one even gives them a second glance. it would be an easy getaway. would be. but anyone with a sense of a shuttle's layout would pick up quickly on the fact that she is taking them in the opposite direction of the ramp. ]
[He'd be a poor Solo if he didn't notice where she was taking him, which was away from the exit ramp. Mapping the way is easy enough to guess, even in spite of the fact that he'd never been on a First Order command vessel before. The layout was simple and efficient, not meant to guard any sort of precious cargo like the Falcon was.
He hadn't really expected her to release him to start with, so the fact that she isn't letting him loose into the wild isn't exactly a surprise.]
So...this is a nice ship.
[Because silence is awkward, and Ben Solo is twice as.]
[ she says it stiffly, the sort of defensive tone that demands to know why she's being expected to speak at all. perhaps once he had turned, she'd take him through the hangar bay where the TIE complement was docked. ben may be an idiot, but he was a clever pilot. he had to be, to have evaded them this long.
and he's right to compliment it. the cruiser is almost as spacious as its civilian equivalents despite the compacting that had to be done to outfit it with the weapons systems necessary to combat the resistance. but it's not so spacious that this conversation needs to drag out excessively long.
they reach the crew quarters soon. the cruiser runs a relatively small crew, but not so small that there aren't bunks built on top of each other in most of the rooms. most, but not all. she leads the way to the back of it and punches a code in beside one of the far doors.
it slides open. it's lived in, but still clean enough that it might have been fresh off the assembly line not so long ago. possessions are sparse, none of them giving notable personality to the room. a datapad here. a spanner there. she gestures for him to go in. it's not a real bedroom, of course. the bunk is built into the back wall. but there's a small bench and a desk-sized table. ]
[That's the last thing he bothers to ask before he's lead forward and the door to the crew quarters slides open. Right. Of course. He should have guessed.
Or maybe he's still lost in the fact that she'd been torturing him five minutes ago, and now she was offering him a bed. Granted, he doesn't really want it -- he'd rather be back on Canto Bight, enjoying one last celebratory drink before taking off for his next job. So much for those credits.
He gives the room a once over, and then looks down at her. She's already made the gesture, so there's no reason to ask for confirmation. Ben steps in, half expecting a nasty surprise that never comes.]
...thank you.
[What? comes a familiar and sarcastic voice in his head. You're her prisoner, why are you thanking her? wars with manners that were obviously taught to him by someone that wasn't Han Solo.]
Given your reputation, it's better that we keep you under closer guard overnight anyway.
[ he may not be smart, but at least he has social skills. it becomes readily apparent that kira, however, does not, as she follows him into the cramped space. even with nearly a foot of height difference between them — less with the way he slouches in exhaustion — she still manages to seem … big, crowding into his space like this. the very fact that she chooses to occupy this space with him forces him to shuffle closer towards the bed.
the door shuts behind her. ]
You can sleep here. [ she takes a seat at that little table and grabs for the datapad. turning it on makes it apparent that it … is hers. go figure, there aren't just spare rooms on a light cruiser. this time, it's an order: ] Sleep. We can continue after you've rested.
[She steps into his personal bubble and he tolerates it for approximately two seconds before he stumbles to put some distance between them. Fortunately, his deductive reasoning fills in the gaps before too long.
Right. Of course.
Ben can't stop his lip from curling slightly. He can't decide what's worse -- being strapped to a metal chair alone and being told to sleep, or having his apparent sleeping quarters invaded by a force sensitive person who just spent the better half of the past hour torturing him.
Still, he doesn't have much choice, especially now that he is in the room and the door is closed. So he gives her a long look as he wanders over to the bunk in the wall. It won't take much for him to sleep, if he could calm down his flight instinct. He could already feel the heaviness of his limbs even as he sits at the bed's edge to pull his boots off, followed by the fanciful jacket he'd picked for the affair down at the casino. The holster hidden beneath it comes next.
Belatedly, he realizes his blaster is still missing, and his frown deepens further.
When he finally rests down, he's left with a pair of dress pants and a white undershirt. And for a long time, his thoughts race, and he forces himself to stare at the wall instead of turning around to confront the fact that Kira was just a few feet away from him with a fucking datapad.
How mad would she get if he asked her to go somewhere else? Probably pretty mad.]
[ a pair of dark eyes lift from the datapad screen to watch as he strips down in front of her, paying careful and unblinking attention to his movements. is he surprised that he hasn't had his weapon returned to him? she almost laughs.
when he has apparently finished, she gives him a final once over. more comfortable than the interrogation chamber, certainly. to consider that it's perhaps for this exact reason that he puts his back to her expects a little too much social awareness from kira. instead, once he has turned away, she looks back down at the datapad.
it's nothing interesting. reports. ancient texts of a dead religion that even snoke does not follow. he's much more interesting, but if she were to reach out now, he would feel it. so instead she keeps herself open, listening for his breath and his pulse and feeling how the force moves around him.
she'll be able to feel it, when he falls asleep. and then it will be for only her to know why she had brought him here in the first place instead of leaving him in that interrogation chamber to howl and complain. ]
[For all Ben has managed to curb his tongue, anxiety clings to him, cramped on the mattress that only just manages to accommodate his height. It takes him ages to fall asleep. Its not his bed, for one, and something (or someone) in the room makes him feel hypersensitive. Everything sounds louder, feels awkward, and he finds himself slowly unraveling a thread on the sheet he's covered himself with to try and keep his hands busy.
The sounds of this ship are different than the Falcon, quiet enough that anyone who wasn't used to ships would say that it ran silent. But Ben picks up on every echo, every hiss of air, every oxygen scrub that ran in spite of their parked position. From far away, he could hear the single patrol of Stormtroopers making their rounds -- or maybe he wasn't hearing them at all, and he was going crazy.
Eventually, his circling thoughts run themselves into the ground, and he passes out.]
[ she gives it time, after he slips into consciousness. a part of her is not convinced, not fully, that the signs in the force are accurate, or that he isn't manipulating them at least. she doesn't want to fall into some trap.
but after a few minutes of solid, quiet breathing, she lowers her datapad back to the table and watches him. yes. he's out.
she rises from her seat and approaches the bunk, a looming shadow that blots out the blue light of the datapad across the cramped space. he's curled on himself — a habit or necessity because her bunk is so short, she can't tell, but despite it there's a deceptive peacefulness about him. without his mouth running, what she can make out of his face looks soft. younger.
she almost reaches out to touch him, but her fingertips stop just short of his cheek. if she wakes him, what's been the point of any of this?
instead she settles into a sitting position on the edge of the bunk, tightly restrained to keep from touching him. there's room for space jesus here, even if there's not much room in the cabin in general. she lets her palm hover at his temple, inches away, and she shuts her eyes, skimming just the surface of his dreams. ]
[As it turns out, Ben Solo is a vivid dreamer and a deep sleeper.
She might be able to feel the warmth of the sun on her face -- not the harsh, direct sort of unforgiving Jakku sunlight, but the warm embrace of Chandrila's sun. He seems a bit younger, lounging on top of the Falcon with one of its maintenance panels left open. There are some smears of engine grease on his clothes and hands. It seems he's fallen asleep during something he'd been doing.
He continues like this for a while -- peaceful, but alone. Eventually, a far off irritated wookiee call rouses him, and he sits up to stretch, no doubt in an effort to look busy as fast as possible.
But his perspective shifts when he tries to find Chewbacca's location, and the Falcon is no longer parked on Chandrila, but on the empty, desolate, and uninhabitable moon of Raada. The feeling of the sun disappears.
He finds the scenery shifting just as the cold and dread start to set in -- his mother puts her hand on his shoulder, and warmth instantly fills him as he turns to embrace her. It lingers, but after a long pause, he can feel something soaking through his shirt. When he leans back, he can see the tears on her face. "What's wrong?" he asks before spotting the golden dice of the Falcon in her hand alongside a hologram of his father -- a bounty claimed.
But before the details can be given, their meeting place is under attack. He absconds with her as swiftly as they had met. The sound of Stormtroopers are not far behind. Anxiety, grief, terror, hatred -- they're all perfectly clear and present. "You have to go."
When it seems like he might wake from the terror of it, the scene switches one last time. His mother is not getting any younger, but at least she has Chewbacca with her. She still makes time for him even in the middle of leading a Resistance. "You shouldn't" Ben says to her, impatient, before she confesses how much she misses him. Anything else they say is lost to forgotten mumbles. About the Resistance, about all the people who still needed help, about people the Resistance would never reach -- and about how he couldn't come back until it was all fixed.
And he sits there for the rest of the sequence with his last communique with General Organa playing in the dimly lit cockpit of the Falcon at some far off sand dune on Catonica, sick to his stomach.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Actually, I'm just--talking. In my experience, its a little difficult to just talk yourself out of binders.
[And this was more than binders.]
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[ she says it so off-handedly. he must know, by now. doing what he had done. ]
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His laughter dies awkwardly.]
You're probably right about that.
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the sound startles her because at first she's like oh of course he's crying. i'd be crying too. but no. she turns to look at him, eyes widening slightly. who is this asshole? she purses her lips, dissatisfied with that response on pretty much every possible level. ]
When you turn, I'll show you.
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[The Dark side -- right, he knows enough about all of that. He just can't believe she's still trying to push that on him. Boundaries, Kira.
But--]
I only half know what you're even talking about.
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[ and it doesn't need to happen all at once. she considers him now, his fatigue. it would be easy to go in now and force him to turn, but … it would be a better show to take her time with this. these are the justifications she leans on, but she is not entirely obtuse to the fact that there's something else there. his arguments are not entirely without appeal. ]
In time. Get some rest. You're going to need it.
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[That's the most desperate he's sounded yet. He's going to wake up with cramps!!!]
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[ there's something too impatient about the way that she asks — digging at him for being choosy in his prison — for it to be taken as anything untoward. ]
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[Yeah, he doesn't care about that dig. He's not going to sleep like this, that's for sure.
So, in a huff, he lets his head clunk backward again ("Ow") and stares stubbornly at the ceiling, as if she weren't even in the room.]
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[ spoilers she is not
setting him free.
she does, however, consider him again, reevaluating. he'll take time. patience. and, maybe, there's a better way to do this. she's not sure what that is yet of course — she's never had to find a better way to do anything than force — but she's at least starting to entertain the question. ]
If you wanted freedom, you should have come willingly.
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[He says it without looking up, in his now permenant pouting tone of voice. At least she did him the favor of exhausting him (phrasing?) so he will at least have a chance of passing out to slumber, instead of no chance at all.]
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ben's binders come open with a twitch of kira's fingers, his slumped posture almost takes him straight out of the metal rack without them to support him. she doesn't move to assist in any way, even though he's probably close to collapse at this point. ]
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Ben’s eyes snap open roughly about the same time the binders click open, adrenaline rushing to respond as he nearly fails to catch his own weight on too-long legs. He grips the chair like a lifeline, stepping to try and rebalance himself only to find that his legs are both jello and asleep from non-use. Ultimately, he ends up on his hands and knees, shoulders quivering and fingertips full of pins and needles.
But he finds enough strength to look up at Kira, completely and wordlessly baffled.]
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it soothes the aching void in her chest. just a little. it's selfishness, made to perform the outward expression of kindness. she wants to see more of that, to feel … something. anything but pain. and as a result, she does not want him to suffer pointlessly in here; it would be a waste.
he's right about one thing. no one can make her do something she doesn't want to do, and she doesn't want exactly this.
but not exactly what he's asking for either. ]
Get up. [ there's no softness about her voice. ] Follow me.
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He wants to ask her why, but like a scolded animal, it seems he has at least started to learn when to sit and when to speak.]
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there's a snappy purpose to her stride, but she's also not moving faster than he can follow in his present (pathetic) state. she had, after all, been the one to reduce him to it. she should be aware of the limitations it poses.
the halls of her shuttle are mostly empty, but for a pair of stormtroopers on patrol and what looks like a low level officer supervising maintenance work. there's little question where the rest are — FN-2187 and his stolen weapons would need their attention.
kira doesn't invite conversation, and her presence dissuades questions and commentary from the others around the shuttle as well. no one even gives them a second glance. it would be an easy getaway. would be. but anyone with a sense of a shuttle's layout would pick up quickly on the fact that she is taking them in the opposite direction of the ramp. ]
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He hadn't really expected her to release him to start with, so the fact that she isn't letting him loose into the wild isn't exactly a surprise.]
So...this is a nice ship.
[Because silence is awkward, and Ben Solo is twice as.]
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[ she says it stiffly, the sort of defensive tone that demands to know why she's being expected to speak at all. perhaps once he had turned, she'd take him through the hangar bay where the TIE complement was docked. ben may be an idiot, but he was a clever pilot. he had to be, to have evaded them this long.
and he's right to compliment it. the cruiser is almost as spacious as its civilian equivalents despite the compacting that had to be done to outfit it with the weapons systems necessary to combat the resistance. but it's not so spacious that this conversation needs to drag out excessively long.
they reach the crew quarters soon. the cruiser runs a relatively small crew, but not so small that there aren't bunks built on top of each other in most of the rooms. most, but not all. she leads the way to the back of it and punches a code in beside one of the far doors.
it slides open. it's lived in, but still clean enough that it might have been fresh off the assembly line not so long ago. possessions are sparse, none of them giving notable personality to the room. a datapad here. a spanner there. she gestures for him to go in. it's not a real bedroom, of course. the bunk is built into the back wall. but there's a small bench and a desk-sized table. ]
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[That's the last thing he bothers to ask before he's lead forward and the door to the crew quarters slides open. Right. Of course. He should have guessed.
Or maybe he's still lost in the fact that she'd been torturing him five minutes ago, and now she was offering him a bed. Granted, he doesn't really want it -- he'd rather be back on Canto Bight, enjoying one last celebratory drink before taking off for his next job. So much for those credits.
He gives the room a once over, and then looks down at her. She's already made the gesture, so there's no reason to ask for confirmation. Ben steps in, half expecting a nasty surprise that never comes.]
...thank you.
[What? comes a familiar and sarcastic voice in his head. You're her prisoner, why are you thanking her? wars with manners that were obviously taught to him by someone that wasn't Han Solo.]
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[ he may not be smart, but at least he has social skills. it becomes readily apparent that kira, however, does not, as she follows him into the cramped space. even with nearly a foot of height difference between them — less with the way he slouches in exhaustion — she still manages to seem … big, crowding into his space like this. the very fact that she chooses to occupy this space with him forces him to shuffle closer towards the bed.
the door shuts behind her. ]
You can sleep here. [ she takes a seat at that little table and grabs for the datapad. turning it on makes it apparent that it … is hers. go figure, there aren't just spare rooms on a light cruiser. this time, it's an order: ] Sleep. We can continue after you've rested.
[ :) ]
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Right. Of course.
Ben can't stop his lip from curling slightly. He can't decide what's worse -- being strapped to a metal chair alone and being told to sleep, or having his apparent sleeping quarters invaded by a force sensitive person who just spent the better half of the past hour torturing him.
Still, he doesn't have much choice, especially now that he is in the room and the door is closed. So he gives her a long look as he wanders over to the bunk in the wall. It won't take much for him to sleep, if he could calm down his flight instinct. He could already feel the heaviness of his limbs even as he sits at the bed's edge to pull his boots off, followed by the fanciful jacket he'd picked for the affair down at the casino. The holster hidden beneath it comes next.
Belatedly, he realizes his blaster is still missing, and his frown deepens further.
When he finally rests down, he's left with a pair of dress pants and a white undershirt. And for a long time, his thoughts race, and he forces himself to stare at the wall instead of turning around to confront the fact that Kira was just a few feet away from him with a fucking datapad.
How mad would she get if he asked her to go somewhere else? Probably pretty mad.]
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when he has apparently finished, she gives him a final once over. more comfortable than the interrogation chamber, certainly. to consider that it's perhaps for this exact reason that he puts his back to her expects a little too much social awareness from kira. instead, once he has turned away, she looks back down at the datapad.
it's nothing interesting. reports. ancient texts of a dead religion that even snoke does not follow. he's much more interesting, but if she were to reach out now, he would feel it. so instead she keeps herself open, listening for his breath and his pulse and feeling how the force moves around him.
she'll be able to feel it, when he falls asleep. and then it will be for only her to know why she had brought him here in the first place instead of leaving him in that interrogation chamber to howl and complain. ]
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The sounds of this ship are different than the Falcon, quiet enough that anyone who wasn't used to ships would say that it ran silent. But Ben picks up on every echo, every hiss of air, every oxygen scrub that ran in spite of their parked position. From far away, he could hear the single patrol of Stormtroopers making their rounds -- or maybe he wasn't hearing them at all, and he was going crazy.
Eventually, his circling thoughts run themselves into the ground, and he passes out.]
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but after a few minutes of solid, quiet breathing, she lowers her datapad back to the table and watches him. yes. he's out.
she rises from her seat and approaches the bunk, a looming shadow that blots out the blue light of the datapad across the cramped space. he's curled on himself — a habit or necessity because her bunk is so short, she can't tell, but despite it there's a deceptive peacefulness about him. without his mouth running, what she can make out of his face looks soft. younger.
she almost reaches out to touch him, but her fingertips stop just short of his cheek. if she wakes him, what's been the point of any of this?
instead she settles into a sitting position on the edge of the bunk, tightly restrained to keep from touching him. there's room for space jesus here, even if there's not much room in the cabin in general. she lets her palm hover at his temple, inches away, and she shuts her eyes, skimming just the surface of his dreams. ]
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She might be able to feel the warmth of the sun on her face -- not the harsh, direct sort of unforgiving Jakku sunlight, but the warm embrace of Chandrila's sun. He seems a bit younger, lounging on top of the Falcon with one of its maintenance panels left open. There are some smears of engine grease on his clothes and hands. It seems he's fallen asleep during something he'd been doing.
He continues like this for a while -- peaceful, but alone. Eventually, a far off irritated wookiee call rouses him, and he sits up to stretch, no doubt in an effort to look busy as fast as possible.
But his perspective shifts when he tries to find Chewbacca's location, and the Falcon is no longer parked on Chandrila, but on the empty, desolate, and uninhabitable moon of Raada. The feeling of the sun disappears.
He finds the scenery shifting just as the cold and dread start to set in -- his mother puts her hand on his shoulder, and warmth instantly fills him as he turns to embrace her. It lingers, but after a long pause, he can feel something soaking through his shirt. When he leans back, he can see the tears on her face. "What's wrong?" he asks before spotting the golden dice of the Falcon in her hand alongside a hologram of his father -- a bounty claimed.
But before the details can be given, their meeting place is under attack. He absconds with her as swiftly as they had met. The sound of Stormtroopers are not far behind. Anxiety, grief, terror, hatred -- they're all perfectly clear and present. "You have to go."
When it seems like he might wake from the terror of it, the scene switches one last time. His mother is not getting any younger, but at least she has Chewbacca with her. She still makes time for him even in the middle of leading a Resistance. "You shouldn't" Ben says to her, impatient, before she confesses how much she misses him. Anything else they say is lost to forgotten mumbles. About the Resistance, about all the people who still needed help, about people the Resistance would never reach -- and about how he couldn't come back until it was all fixed.
And he sits there for the rest of the sequence with his last communique with General Organa playing in the dimly lit cockpit of the Falcon at some far off sand dune on Catonica, sick to his stomach.]
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