#mnemehoshiko

[destiniesfic]

*holds up Rhaena Targaryen*

*Holds up Aemond Targaryen*

*holds up Daemon and Rhaenyra hearing the shambling corpse of Vizzy T cackling karma in the distance*

is this your pitch for me to ship rhaemond

[politicalmamaduck]

Daughter of the Darkness

A Reylo Black Jewels AU. Read it on AO3 here.

Happy birthday, @mnemehoshiko!

She is coming.

The cryptic warning echoed across space and time. His web thrummed with the vision’s power. 

She is coming.

Who is coming? Who are you? What do you know? Kylo Ren wanted to shout. But he knew it would be futile, useless. The time of the prophecy was at hand. 

Jaenelle Angelline’s heir to Darkness, the next Witch, was coming. That was the only thing it could mean. 

It was not certain that Witch would come again. Many Black Widows searched for a sign in their webs to no avail. 

But where to find her?  Where even to look? 

The Emperor would want to know.

The Emperor would want to kill her. 

Kylo Ren--Ben Solo--would not allow that to happen. 

He was a Black Jeweled Warlord Prince. He would serve. 

To serve Witch was his destiny. He was born to serve her. So he would serve the Emperor, learn his mind, his powers, his poisons, until his Witch’s time came. 

He did not have as long to wait as he thought he would. He would recognize that psychic scent, that feeling, that presence, across any distance of space or time. 

She had arrived and would make her Offering to the Darkness at Ebon Askavi. 

She was glorious and ferocious.

Witch.

His Witch. 

Rey. 

She took no family name, like Cassandra before her. She remained hidden until the time for her to ascend her throne and build her Court had come. 

Her power, her Craft, was magnificent, a beacon to which many lesser Blood were drawn. They did not know her for what she was. 

Dreams made flesh.

They did not see her eyes and Jewels flash with the transition from woman to Witch. 

They did not know what she had come to do. 

But Ben--Ben now, again, having shed his false identity and service to the Emperor, nearly sacrificing himself to break his Ring--Ben knew who she was. What she was. 

What they could do together, if she would allow him the honor of service. 

He knelt before his Queen when he was presented to her. 

“My Lady,” he said, his eyes downcast. “I wish to serve.”

“And how would you serve, Benjamin Bail Chewbacca Organa Solo?” she asked. 

“As my Lady pleases,” he replied. “It is an honor for a Warlord Prince to protect and serve.”

He did not dare voice his hopes. She would judge, and if she found him wanting, he would know. She knew his mind; he also would not dare to hide it from her. 

She stepped down from the throne and cupped his chin in her hand, bringing it upward so he was forced to look into her eyes. 

Witch’s eyes. 

They said that Jaenelle Angelline had eyes of sapphire that darkened to midnight when she revealed Witch.

Rey had eyes of hazel that darkened to the depths of the world. Green and brown and gold swirled around him, the colors of life and power and death and decay and rich loam.

She nodded at him, letting him go after a moment. A minute. An eternity. He could not say how long he had knelt, looking into the depths of those eyes, those eyes that contained multitudes and universes and power unseen in thousands of years. 

He returned to his place in the audience, which began to assemble according to caste and rank. The ceremony began. 

...

Hours later, when they were finally alone, his mental touch was but a feather on her skin. A whisper, a promise of something more. The control, the Craft was exquisite, an example of control that had been learned over centuries. 

He wanted her for all that she was; he wanted her to yield to his physical touch and other ministrations. He would serve her by providing her the greatest comfort and pleasure he could.

He was her Consort, her mate, and she would use him as she pleased. His body, his mind, his soul, all were hers.  

Rey purred a sigh of contentment. Her hazel eyes darkened with lust, yet they were still Rey’s eyes. Not the thunderous eyes of Witch, of the prodigious power of the Darkness. 

She was a flower blooming in an endless desert, like Jaenelle before her. 

No Ring of Obedience did he wear; Rey was a Queen of Kaeleer, not of Terreille, and did not lay claim to that dark and bloody history. Nor did he require it, for his obedience was paramount. He would serve his Witch. 

He saw her through that first night, the sacred Virgin Night, learning from her and with her as their bodies joined for the first time. 

He did as she commanded, when she asked. 

He could scarcely think when she straddled him, mounted him, told him he was beautiful and he was hers. 

She trusted him not to shatter her despite his past. 

She saw him for what he was, and she claimed him, just as he had seen her for what she was and was unafraid. 

Black Jeweled Witch and Warlord Prince, united as they should be.

…

How to defeat the Emperor without shattering the crystal chalice?

Neither Ben nor Rey feared madness. They would do it, together, and face whatever would come as two that were one. 

One could only delve so far into their Jewels. Ben had delved farther than almost any of the Blood who had come before him. 

Rey—Witch— would go even farther. 

Faster and faster they spun through the levels, dancing their deadly dance, not yet reaching the depths of their Black Jeweled power. 

Ben had but the one. Rey wore many Black Jewels. He would never abandon her to the maelstrom.  

He had to trust her to see this through, that she would not abandon him to the Twisted Kingdom. 

And he did. 

As they descended, names out of legend stirred in the Darkness. Ghostly figures appeared in the web they had spun, not all human Blood. A unicorn bowed his head, his horn shining in the dark. 

At the bottom of their web, of the descent into their Jewels, a woman mounted upon a dragon awaited them. 

Not a woman. 

Witch. 

Dreams made flesh.

Her hair was spun gold, her eyes midnight sapphires, and her presence everything it was ever described to be. 

“Rise, Rey. Rise, Ben,” she commanded, and they rose, soaring to heights no Blood had ever dared to soar. 

These are your first steps. Rise, and take them.

And so they did, their ancestors, the Blood who had gone before, watching and waiting, whispering their encouragements across space and time. 

They rose, and unleashed their power together. 

The Emperor, seated upon his dark throne, cackling his glee at their defeat, could not raise his own Black Jeweled shield in time, so precipitous was their ascent. 

The Emperor’s reign and hold over the Blood was over. 

Rey’s had begun.

…

He was born to be her lover. 

He was born for this, he thought, as she spread his legs and oiled his hole. 

He moaned when her first finger penetrated him. Never had he known such pleasure. Never had he dreamed that his Witch would take care of his pleasure the way he dreamed of taking care of hers. 

The pleasure he never thought he would deserve, enduring centuries by the Emperor’s side, waiting for her arrival. 

His Black Jewel flashed with power when she entered him. Her strokes filled him, stretched him to his breaking point. 

“Yes, my Consort,” she crooned. “You belong to me, now and forever, don’t you?”

“I belong to you, my Queen, my Witch, my Consort,” he managed while she thrusted into him.  

“You’re such a good Consort, such a good lover for me,” she said, running her long, black-tinted nails down his back. 

“I was born for you,” he said, his eyes closed, desperate to hang on, to not come without his Lady’s permission.

“You’re so close.”

“Please, my love,” he could not help but beg. “I love you, my Witch,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. 

“I know, she replied as she reached for his cock, stroking gently but firmly, as she thrust into him once more.

“Come for me, my love,” she whispered into his ear. 

Ben came with a roar, her power joining with his, their minds and bodies as one. 

…

Ben’s sleep had been untroubled by nightmares since the Emperor’s defeat. 

The woman who was dreams made flesh had made his dreams come true. 

A Queen, a true Consort, he could love and serve with honor, with whom he could spend his nearly immortal lifespan. 

They would never be bored. They would be feared by some, and loved by some, and served by many across the Realms.

[cherryfury]

Hey! Are you open to commissions at the moment?

a wild mneme in my inbox o,o

I’m not sure if you’re still interested, but my commission page is here--https://cherryfury.tumblr.com/commissions

[thewayofthetrashcompactor]

holding my last breath

Belated birthday gift for @mnemehoshiko !

Rating: T

Additional Tags: Secret Relationship, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Canon Compliant, Bars and Pubs, First Kiss

Summary: Ben and Rey need more time to talk than the Force bond allows them. Meeting up proves to be as much as a challenge as everything else between them these days.

---

"Meet me," he'd said, in the last seconds before the Force dropped the vision between them. He'd barely had time to give her the name of a city on a planet she'd never heard of before he disappeared.

Rey debates whether or not to go, but it's not really a choice. They need to talk, without relying on the Force's whims to give them the time to say everything that needs to be said. Like the rest of the Resistance, she's off on her own mission to try to get the resources they need to keep from falling apart. She'll rendezvous with Finn and Rose in a few days, but she has time for a detour. Instead of the planet she's meant to go to next, she sets her coordinates for the outer rim.

She enters the cantina and immediately spots Ben in a corner near the bar, despite his efforts to blend in. She can't say if it's a part of their connection, that she's so attuned to him -- even in the jumble of signatures in the cantina, his stands out, burning like a banked fire just waiting to flare -- or if it's just his inability to truly blend in anywhere. Even in the low light where creatures from a dozen different planets regard each other warily, something about the dark-haired humanoid hunched over his untouched mug, as if he can hide how tall and broad he is, screams that he doesn't belong.

She hunches a bit herself as she steps inside, echoing the subtle defeat shown by most of the other patrons, the kind of thing that has led then to drink during daylight in a city little more than a fuel stop. Her hold on her staff stays tight, but not too tight, not a grip that'll say she's expecting trouble. Her hands itch to touch her lightsaber, but she knows better than that. The desperate people who spend their days here will be looking for any hint of valuables that could buy them their way out. She knows that too well, much better than Ben, whose hand drifts down to his belt as she approaches him from the side.

She sits next to him, and his gaze locks on her from under his dark hood. Not black, thankfully, but the scraps he's put together in a vague attempt at a trader's robes don't get any lighter than a deep brown. She restrains herself from rolling her eyes even as her heart pounds faster. She gives him a subtle nod. The bartender ambles over and asks pointedly what she'll be drinking, and she pays them too many credits for a mug of the local grog, likely the same swill Ben's avoiding. The presumed owner of the place is a species she doesn't recognize, something short but with enough tentacles to reach above the bar, and their eyes flick suspiciously between her and Ben before deciding they don't care enough to bother. A pointed glare with narrowed eyes tells her not to make trouble in their bar before they go back to where they'd been leaning against the bar near another patron.

Ben sighs, a shuddering sound, and his hand slides from his mug to splay across the bar, closer to her. She doesn't know if the gesture is meant for her, but she rests her hand closer, until their fingers touch. Ben's breath leaves him in a rush and he stares pleadingly at her. They need to find somewhere more private. A low buzz of voices and glasses fills the background of the cantina, but not enough to cover what they have to say. She glances around, trying to keep the movement subtle. Maybe her time is the Resistance has made her paranoid, but she feels the eyes of too many others on them. Her mind flashes back to Takodana and how quickly they were found there and her heart skips a beat.

She looks around again while pretending to take a sip of her drink. Even the press of it against her lips burns. Besides the entrance from the street, the cantina has a couple other openings along its walls, likely to the bathrooms and some other small spaces. She spots a  likely looking doorway near the bar, hopefully to some storeroom, and she sets her sights there. She drops her mug back to the bar, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, then slides off her seat. She passes behind Ben, swaying close enough to whisper, "Wait, then follow," then disappears down the short hallway.

The light from the main room barely reaches the end of the hall, where a single door waits. It's barely enough to conceal them, but the other option is dragging him back to her ship, and she can't see him being too keen on that. And she's not boarding his again. A few moments pass, and Ben slinks in after her, looking as hulking and suspicious as ever. He stands in front of her, hands fidgeting by his sides, face obscured by his makeshift hood. She reaches up and pushes it away, savoring the brush of his soft hair against her fingers and revealing the planes of his face, still cast half in shadow. She can make out the faded line of her brand across his cheek and has to keep herself from tracing it.

"Rey," he says, voice low. She swallows, willing her heart to settle. She can't let herself forget why they're here.

"Ben," she replies. A slight shudder runs through him and he sways closer. Her hand lands on his chest, not pushing but present. "We don't have much time."

He nods. "The First Order --" he starts, but the words barely leave him before her ears pick up on another noise. Not quite footsteps, but a sort of slick squelching across the floor, growing closer. She looks up at Ben, eyes wide. "The bartender," she whispers.

"Kriff." His hand goes to his waist and his saber, but she drags him in the other direction, to the door. She presses a hand next to the door and unlocks it with a quick pressure from the Force, a technique that feels second nature for her. She pulls Ben inside with her and shuts the door behind them, locking it again. Maybe it's just her paranoia, and the bartender is just passing by. Maybe he's not interested in squeezing some quick credits from the more-suspicious-than-usual humanoids who decided to stop by his cantina. She nearly snorts out loud at that one.

She barely dares to breathe as the sound of the creature moving across the floor keeps getting closer. What other reason would he have for coming this was than for the closet they're hiding in? Ben has his saber in his hand now, eyes fixed on the door as he presses tightly to her back and side. She knows the pair of them could take care of some backwater bartender in no time at all, but she'd prefer not to kill some stranger for trying to live their life out here.

Her mind races as she tries to come up with a reasonable distraction for why the two of them are shoved into a closet, and her thoughts stick on couples she'd seen in Niima, wedged into all kinds of obscure corners for a chance at semi-privacy. She tries to come up with another solution, anything else, but her mind seems to have stuck on that one combined with the warm, firm press of Ben's body behind her. The squishing noises have nearly reached the door now, and she wriggles enough to turn around in the tight space.

Ben nearly chokes. "What are you --" he starts, but she doesn't let him finish.

"Do you trust me?" she whispers fiercely, eyes searching for his in the dark.

Only the light from around the door illuminates his face, but his expression shows clearly his shock that she'd even have to ask. "Always," he breathes. Something lurches forward just on the other side of the door. She thinks she can hear a tentacle reaching out, and she grabs the cowl around his neck and pulls him down to her, smashing her lips against his.

He doesn't breathe at first, and she wonders if he's going to pass out. That might work too, if the bartender sees her tending to his unconscious body. Probably not the first time they've dealt with that. But that stands a decent chance of getting whatever passes for law around here called on them, so she clutches Ben tighter to her and wills him to stay upright. She slips her fingers under his cowl and strokes his neck, lets her thumbs brush along his jaw in what she hopes is a comforting gesture.

It works; his lips go from frozen against hers to gliding tentatively along them and his breath gusts against her cheek. She pushes onto her toes for a better angle, nudging her mouth further into his, ready to take more. His hands drift from his side to her waist, hovering at first, before she presses her body more fully into his. His heat is almost too much in this cramped space, but she welcomes it, feeling a thrill run through her when his hands clamp onto her hips, holding her to him.

She claims him just as thoroughly, sliding one hand into his hair to tangle in it, soft strands wrapped around her fingers. She opens her lips against his, eager to know what he tastes like. Her tongue sweeps out: salt and caf. He groans and her mouth curves against his. She sucks, pulling his lip between hers, teeth scraping against it. Ben's fingers tighten, grabbing at her through her layers. A thrill runs through her, and she does it again.

Her entire mind fills with nothing but Ben, eager and desperate against her, like if she lets go, it'll all be a dream. She breathes in the sweat and leather scent of him, underlain by a clean soapy spice; even in rags, the prince is never far away. Her chest presses closer, easing the ache that says she's not ready to part from him either. This is so much more than the brush of their hands in the darkness across worlds; she has him clutched to her now, and her scavenger instincts don't easily let go of what's hers.

When the door opens, casting weak light across them, and a wet squeal pierces her ears, she nearly snarls, shoving Ben behind her like some salvage she has to defend. Ben's lips part from hers with a gasp, and the tentacled bartender stares at them, limbs flailing as it squeals again. She doesn't speak the language, but it's not hard to tell that their welcome has run out. She glares at them, and they narrow their eyes back.

"Out!" they say in Basic

With her chin held high and a smirk on her lips, she grabs Ben's hand and stalks down the hallway and then out of the bar. The afternoon sun glares down at them in the street. Ben walks beside her, long legs keeping her swift pace, large hand wrapped around hers.

"Where are we going?" he asks, tilting his head down towards hers.

She turns her smirk up to him. "Somewhere private."

[leupagus]

YOU'VE FORCED ME TO FIGURE OUT WHAT I'VE DONE THUS FAR THIS YEAR?!?!? 1) WAS GIVEN A MINION TO OVERSEE IN LAB, MANAGED TO NOT SCARE HER AWAY AND SHE WANTS?? TO COMEBACK??? IN THE FALL?? 2) WENT TO TWO CONS AND DIDN'T DO ANY WORK DURING EITHER OF THEM (the Guilt is Still There but Not As Much) 3) MET FANDOM FRIEND FROM AUSTRALIA AND HUGGED HER!! IN PERSON 4) MY PARENTS CAME TO VISIT AND NO MURDER OCCURRED! 5) Not My Accomplishment but my Dad had his 64th birthday this year and he's still here.

1) The survival of the minion is NO SMALL FEAT, especially for a cannibal such as yourself! 2) I totally get the impulse toward guilt but even cannibals need to take breaks occasionally, and having fun at a con is itself an accomplishment! 3) YAY FOR FANDOM FRIENDS who you probably did not eat! 4) I am SO PROUD of you for not murdering your parents, that must have been very difficult considering you are a cannibal and murder comes very naturally, but you were able to resist and that should be celebrated! 5) Considering how close he’s been to being killed and eaten, your father’s continued survival is absolutely one of your accomplishments

[queenofcarrots]

Moodboard for @mnemehoshiko, based on her idea for Vampire!Finn and Witch!Kylo Urban Fantasy AU (encouragement to write it!)

[gizkasparadise]

mnemehoshiko

  got tagged by @bullheadedbastardblacksmith thanks...

babe u need to sleep

sob im dissertating 

[southsidestory]

mnemehoshiko replied to your post “My Journey to Pink Hair: Part 1”

UR BROWS LOOK FAB

@mnemehoshiko YOU ARE FULL OF LIES! They are caterpillars, slowly evolving into ONE caterpillar!

but thank you <3