#queue de la k

[kylo-wrecked]

✱ - take my muse by the hips to carefully move them out of their way Reb { 🃏  @ifyoucatchacriminal drew: Ex-Con!Ben :// from this meme / accepting }

It's date night, and his raven's hair is flat and paint-flecked, his flannel an emblem of his neglect. Reb folds her arms, begins her deposition. He needs to change. "All right." He forgot. "I mean..." She's not wrong... "But..." The flared neck of this wood-turned vase's unvarnished, and... "I'm not finished." Reb scowls; he almost flinches. It's a knee-jerk reaction. Look at that face of hers. There's a threat in that face, a court order in that face. "Could'j..." Just wait one damn minute. And Reb is not going to listen. Well, neither is he. After a beat, he squats partially, wraps his hands around her hips, and lifts her. Places her on the other side of him and his work table. Tucks his chin like some puffed, flightless bird. "Thank you."

[kylo-wrecked]

raises a hand but hesitates {🫀 @ifyoucatchacriminal broke and bought: Modern!Ben ://from this meme /accepting }

Aah, there it was. She had reached for him and faltered. He could think of a hundred reasons why. What was Reb’s count? One? Ten? 

“You’re scared,” he muttered. 

Not of him—he was a coward. She was afraid of being involved with a coward. His cowardice was tiresome and time-consuming. At times, all-consuming. 

“You keep saying you’re not.”

Ben shrugged into himself. He swallowed his feelings into his posture, wearing his spite like a cowl. He was gentle in his speech, but heavy with his gaze. The affliction in his eyes always betrayed him.

“You are.”

[kylo-wrecked]

04. pressing a kiss to the others forehead in silence. { 🫀 @valkxrie broke and bought: Music!Ben ://from this meme /accepting }

She’s right about the dress. Blood comes out with water and salt. Big deal. She's taken a bottle of Jack to the face. The faerie wine has long worn off. Later, he may wake up to find his shoes in the minibar. He stands in the corner of the bathroom suite as she drapes a washcloth over his arm. Silent and solid as an iron rack. But towel racks don’t have the gall to be offended, and they don’t have eyes that avoid contact with other eyes. Eyes the color of sky, the color of armor. Brunn’s eyes. Brunn’s eyes are unguarded, searching for a man in the hotel architecture. She steps out of the tub and onto the tile. Her wings unfurl, filling the silence between them, the silence he has made. A silence filled by a kiss, sealed on his forehead. The man emerges with eyes like jacinth daggers, striking at sky, at shilelds. “Don’t condescend to me.”

[kylo-wrecked]

“and maybe i am supposed to feel sad. maybe it’s karma. maybe I do deserve it.”

Ragna!B to Music!Ben

{ 🫀 You broke and bought: Music!Ben:// from this meme /accepting }

Ben bites his lip. It stings with blood and fading alkaloid salt.

"Maybe you ought to stop with the fucking maybes."

He's here, in the breast of Brunnhilde's boho nest, out of precedence. He didn't choose a greater liking for hers over his; it just happened. Like the apples. Like them. His legs and shoulders eating into her sofa, her legs and shoulders eating into his sternum, and his hips.

"Maybe nobody deserves anything. You ever think of that?" His gaze finds hers striking up from his collarbone. "If you didn’t choose the conditions that made you you, how can you 'deserve' anything? Pete's sake."

There's a twinkle in her eyes. Maybe she'll hit him.

"Maybe I don't deserve you." Ben offers her a wonky, black cat's smile, maybe as penance, maybe because he can't help himself. "But I don't care. How's that?"

@valkxrie

[kylo-wrecked]

{ cont'd from here }

Snowmelt darkens the carpet beneath his boots, and the city cold still clings to him, sharp and metallic, but his heartbeat stirs in his chest like an animal waking from brumation. 

Second-hand embarrassment? Reciprocal anxiety? Now he has seventeen questions. 

His ears burn under his hat. Ben’s reputation doesn’t have a clean bill of health—maybe this is someone’s idea of a joke. He turns the note over in his hands, pink on pink, flashing red-ink scrawls: ‘alone,’ ‘fool,’ ‘nervous.’

Right. Rey. Rey from the editor’s department. He can live with how easily he missed a face he sees almost every day. He lives with shortcomings of all shapes and sizes. His coat-arms, for instance, were nearly too short, compressing his biceps like BP cuffs. His fault, not the coat’s.

“But…” Ben’s hesitation hangs in the air, a weak puff of verbal condensation. “You came here.”

His look is long, but not admonishing. Slippery, maybe. Made of black ice. And if her face is pink, it’s the cold. It’s a thought he quickly files away

“I live here. Well, I lived here. I don’t anymore. Never mind.”

Finally, he offers the note to Rey. It buckles in his hand. 

I don't want to make a fool of myself in front of you because I admire you. 

Couldn’t be for him. 

“Did you follow me?” he asks anyway. 

His fault, not Rey’s. 

@jakkuforce

[kylo-wrecked]

♚ - put a hand on my muse’s knee while sitting next to them, to discourage them from standing up. {🫀 @valkxrie broke and bought: Modern!Ben ://from this meme /not accepting atm }:

He flinched. His hand jumped on the laminate, disrupting the prawn broth noodles he’d just destroyed. Ben’s glare rivaled that of the Hawker auntie who scowled at him as she pushed her cart along. He didn’t realize he’d upset a straw wrapper, that his heel had crushed it into the tile.  Maybe he never told Brunn why he hated to be touched there. “Brunnhilde…”  There had never been a moment to bring it up. Never a moment in which it felt relevant. Ben stared at the rippling broth, chin to clavicle, shoulders hunched.  When he lifted his head and turned to her, he noticed a man in a full suit standing behind them. looming over a bowl of melted chendol, nostrils twitching in the miasma of bleach and curry.   Corporate lunch had long since passed; anyone wearing a full two-piece was ang moh. Or insane.  Ben hesitated, open-mouthed, and another moment passed them by like an auntie after a Myna with her broom handle, when recognition made a knot in his jaw and soured his stomach.  “Tell me you didn’t invite your father here.”

[kylo-wrecked]

[TXT] : stay the night. {🫀 @big-d-little-i-big-n-little-ozzo broke and bought: Ex-Con!Ben ://from this meme /accepting }

The kitchen filled with a late-afternoon Nevada glow that made even junk look briefly holy, lighting the drifting motes above the table where his tools lay scattered. Block plane. Hammer. Chisels in a cracked ceramic mug stained dark with old coffee. Ben moved slowly through the room, opening drawers and shifting papers and lengths of cord. Where was his God-damned tape? He started opening cupboards, and. Ow. [ Tony ]: All right. Stopped. Rolled the shoulder he’d torn—again.  [ Tony ]: Isn’t Tali studying?  [ Tony ]: You sure I won't be distracting?

[kylo-wrecked]

“i remember liking you right away.”

Human!B to Modern!B (he definitely told her to fuck off almost immediately).

{ 🫀 You broke and bought: Modern!Ben:// from this meme /accepting }

It’s almost like old times, almost a folktale they share over Brunnhilde’s garlic bread and an umeshu that doesn’t match.

Ben almost chokes. Not because the bread is a bit dry—he wouldn’t dare tell her so—but because

“Didn’t I tell you to fuck off?”

He washes a chuckle down with crumbs, licks the ume off his lips. His smile is a bit umami. Brunn’s is like champagne, but then she’s drunk. She started before he arrived.

“I thought you were someone else,” he muses. “We were at… we were on Prince Street.”

Once upon a time, there was a girl in the rooftop garden of a Chinese dissident artist. She discovered a gargoyle, something stonefaced, animated by the full moon and a preternatural spite.

“I liked you right away, but that was easy. You’re easy to like.”

It isn’t fully true, but no story is.

Ben rolls the shochu glass in his palms.

“I still like you,” he admits, with his umami lips, his hunching shoulders, and a fresh haircut that sheared the long curls from his temples. A creature that’s lost a little of its fur. “Do you still like me?”

@valkxrie