#sw au | dark!ren: renegade knight

[kylo-wrecked]

thinking about dark!ren's evolution, his various incarnations, differentiations between verses, and how his helm would reflect his aging, his gradual change from man, to monomaniacal Force cyborg, and beyond...

my pet headcanon is ren having started with something similar to luke fisher's concept:

and as it deteriorates over many battles, he frequently repairs and reinforces it by hand with durable/flexible alloys. the results are not as friend-shaped:

the 'lens' would become slimmer (not wider, as shown here) as he grows to rely more on sense than sight (and he's blind in one eye). it would unclasp in the back, like a corset, or Manumala noxhydria [verse dependent.]

the beak-like mouthpiece drops off some years hence. perhaps it cracks or ruptures with increased wear and tear. perhaps it becomes another part of him lost in combat. it won't matter to ren; after a time, he no longer vocalises. he simply patches it over.

eventually, the mask will not come off, and it too will make little difference, as he'll have no need for food or water. he will have no need for flesh. no need for organs. these will stop working, and they will rot, and transmogrify, and for a time, he will subsist on nothing but the exquisite pain of a mutation in progress.

in other verses, he becomes one with his armor:

a biomechanical organism who will never again know the warmth of the sun, the taste of a breeze, the kiss of fruit, of life. but these are not for him/them/it.

in the future, a future akin to the blood-red beaches stumbled upon by wells's traveler, the ones covered in alien vegetation, crawling in behemothic butterflies/crabs, and stilling under a fading sun, ren simply:

gets with the times.

#DO NOT REBLOG #sw au | dark!ren: renegade knight #dark!ren headcanons #kylo ren #helmets #concept art #tw: body horror #edited: for quality assurance

[kylo-wrecked]

what does your blood taste like

🌓 the senator’s son (he melty)

melted dark chocolate: your blood tastes like melted dark chocolate. prominent flavors: mildly sweet, with a refined amount of bitterness.

🌑 the renegade knight (he fancy)

Cabernet Sauvignon: your blood tastes like cabernet sauvignon, a dry red wine. prominent flavors: dark fruits, pepper, and vanilla from oak aging.

🌘 the dice killer (he spicy)

chili oil: your blood tastes like chili oil, a vegetable oil infused with chili peppers. prominent flavors: smoky, savory, and shallots.

🌕 the drifter (he earthy)

borscht: your blood tastes like beetroot borscht, a soup served hot or cold. prominent flavors: earthy, tangy, and sweet.

he also:

tagged by:// @nightmarefuele 🍫

tagging:// @writteninscarlet, @forcenexus / @mnolith / @magikborn, @etoilebleu, @riiese, @ronmanmob, @tangleweave, @itmeanspeace, @ofthestcrs, @positivelybeastly, @protectmypeople, @silverjetsystm, @southern-belle-outcasts, @smolcuriouskitten, @smokinmirrors (ahem), @datapadz, @desireandduty, @godresembled, @hopegained, @lastxdragon, @chromium-siren, @thecreativeforge, @cxpperhead, @cardigansandearlgrey, @valkxrie, @babydxhl, @bewitchingbaker, @birkenzeisig (any), @big-d-little-i-big-n-little-ozzo / @ifyoucatchacriminal, @brooklynislandgirl, @mayxthexforce, @madxwonderland, and you!

*feel free to ignore if you’ve done this one already. wanted to update my tag list.

#DO NOT REBLOG #muse quiz #let me know if you don’t wish to be tagged #let me know if you rather i tag your hub blog #let me know if you run your rp blog/s from a hub? #m. au | modern!ben: the senator’s son #m. au | murder!kylo: the dice killer #m. au | ex-con!ben: the drifter #sw au | dark!ren: renegade knight #{never go to bed at 5 PM} #{unless}

[kylo-wrecked]

@valkxrie :// { cont'd from here }

Ren watches the light fail over the crusted, ruinous half-moon of the temple. Grasses colored the deep heart of the earth lie wet and smelling of mildewed bones, and a starlighted creek percolates through the ancient cliff dwellings.

"This heart isn't my own." He blows in cold tones. Pulmonodes and circuitry pumping ice through dead channels. "Nor is this life. I share it with all the Force touches. Neither rules me."

Yet even in these mountains, there are times Ren feels the man he once killed begin to churn inside the gravesite carven deep within him as this kiva was into the cliffside, as if the dead man took issue with the Ren from beyond.

"Whatever life he might have led, it’s nothing worth mourning." He pauses. The immense black body goes still. "I'm grateful for his anger. It's kept this vessel."

Goes to the music of the night insects. Hollow clicks in the stones. Ren's voice fading out into the rhythm of Brunnhilde's breathing. He speaks two answers, one into the night, one to her.

"I would give it to you.”

#valkxrie #sw au | dark!ren: renegade knight #mini thread

[kylo-wrecked]

❝ if i disappeared, would you look for me? ❞ (dark!ren)

{ 🕯️ You conjured: Dark!Ren }

Ren marked Brunnhilde's wings raised in the ovals of his half-closed eyes. Ren marked her wings within his vision, in this in-between place she was forbidden to enter, edging his mind’s shoreline. One set motion of flight, and the wraith stirred from his deep meditation, becoming a dark storm raging down a darker hall. 

All was silent after the clangor that was the blast doors torn from their shelter, sensors, gear motors, belt and pulley flung away, steel skeletons smashed upon blank floor panels. Ren, a shadow on an alloy wall, the ship's empty corridor resounding around his furor. The cybernetic mandible caught the dying light as he came in. 

He swept into her chamber. A dream. In a dream, someone could lift another with one hand at the base of the head. Yet here he dragged her just so, while she was wide awake, wingless, and thrashing like a star in the grip of an anti-Force. Raised her from her sleeper and ran her and the synthcloth bedcover into the ground. 

Ren knelt, pressing his viscus white glare on Brunnhilde's eyes, which were glossy with broken sleep and fury. His hair fell over his face and hers. His breath smelled of metal; his voice streamed deep and wide as a basin. 

"We do not walk dreams here, Winged One. You won't find answers in dreams. Only phantoms."

He fitted his palm to the back of her head and sunk his fingers beyond her nape, beyond flyaways escaped from her tumbling braid, into Brunnhilde's skull, stirring cloaked intentions, locks on other doors he could blow down. His shadow voice filled her mind's halls, like thunder and unlike thunder. A screaming chasm in the sky no winged thing would peril. 

You voice one question and ask another. Tell me what you want to know, and I'll show you, and you will suffer for the answer. 

#valkxrie #sw au | dark!ren: renegade knight #r. silver edge of darkness #edited: for quality assurance

[kylo-wrecked]

@valkxrie sent:// “Do you celebrate your birthday?” She asks the man, gaze blue and green and soft. The Ren did not seem partial to holidays, let alone those for birth. He’s more than that - but so are birthdays. She cares enough to ask. To calculate what celebrations might have meaning; if any.

“I don't know when mine is.” It is a whole truth. She does not even know the date she became a Valkyrie.

“My sisters and I would celebrate on May 1. If you want to put it in your calendar.” It’s ninety percent a joke. “You can join in, if you’d like. Have a Beltane Birthday with the reborn.”

—☾—

Chromium and silver lattice meet gaze blue, green, and soft, refracting it. Redirecting a body of thought, heat, and soundwaves through the arterial Force. A gentle bloodletting, like Ren's vocal response, which blooms gradually. 

"No," says Ren. "There's no need. I am always becoming." 

At the least, he waits for Brunnhilde to finish before he turns his durasteel cheek, and the rest of him follows.

#valkxrie #bornday 2k23 #prompt #sw au | dark!ren: renegade knight #{he's super fun at parties}

[kylo-wrecked]

“ You can love a monster, it can even love you back, but that doesn’t change its nature. ” (Dark!Ren)

{ 🕯️ You conjured: Dark!Ren }

But it wasn't love that drove either vessel, Ren, unhelmed chassis, or the Pyrrha of aloe-soft abdomen. Through her membrane, they could watch the diaphanous black hollowing around them.

He'd not explained what Pyrrha was. Brunnhilde had to trust her biomechanics to conform a soft cushion to her body rather than digest her. Had Ren spoken, he'd have told Brunnhilde this sentient vessel consumed metals and compounds. Instead, he was a mast of silence, perceiving Pyrrha's intricate patterns of veins. Channels that were broken in him now, wires torn out.

Brunnhilde folded her wings, and Ren knew the look on her face. He saw with another sense—not the futile body; his left eye a water pearl; his right, a dark moon with clouds lapping over it; right digits whirring vessels unto themselves. Only the left hand could still steer the ship, a living thing at rest upon another.

"When one scales the celestial sphere, they realize the sky is black," he returned. The eyelids twitched. Scorn passed Ren by, leaving only a flicker on the face of a man he did not know.

@valkxrie

#valkxrie #sw au | dark!ren: renegade knight #r. silver edge of darkness #edited: for quality assurance

[kylo-wrecked]

{ cont'd from here }

Blood had never run thicker than water.

Seth still wore his face, those same eyes. Too full of grief to perceive beyond the end of his nose.

"So, your sufferings have brought you clarity. I fail to see the problem. You were left to die so that you might become," Ren hummed, igniting his saber in turn. A courtesy at this point. "And here you are, half finished."

He didn't wait for Seth to make the first blow. Suns had set on that honor. Ren had many siblings now. He carried each of them in his mind's eye, in Zela of Ren, once Hindrel of Ren, once Ap'lek of Ren, for what ruby beat and bled in Seth was a husk in the shadow of his brother.

In a sweep of shadow cut by hissing kyber, crimson crossed crimson.

@mnolith

#mnolith #sw au | dark!ren: renegade knight #mini thread

[kylo-wrecked]

@valkxrie :// { cont'd from here }

—☾—

"Zela." He paused. "She was a knight of Ren, but while hers is a great loss, it’s nothing to mourn. Understand, when one takes the knight's oath, you choose to give yourself to the Ren entirely. You forsake your name. You forget yourself as you do not exist."

The helm gazed back at Brunnhilde impartially, as it always would, while the man's face beneath it expressed itself sub-rosa. Always cloaked, like his emotions and his shoulders. Ren turned his lattice onto that of Zela's.

"This helm will call to its next vessel in time."

Under different circumstances, he would have unfastened it, but these were the circumstances of blistered flesh mingling with durasteel. Ren would have to dislodge the skull later. In the meantime, he wrapped Zela's head in his cowl and slung it over his shoulder. He did not bring her to the flames. Her nameless body would be left behind as effigy and warning.

"Let's go," he whirred. "I've done what I can this day. He'll feel the loss, like the absence of a limb." 

Ren spoke of Snoke.

"And he will cloak himself in a rage so thick he'll be unable to see past it." 

He joined Brunnhilde at her side.

"Does that satisfy you?"

#valkxrie #sw au | dark!ren: renegade knight #mini thread #{my knights are secretly jedi they're just a different congregation} #{all hail the temple of ren; can i get a' amen}

[kylo-wrecked]

emotions!

bold = always - italics = sometimes{/some verses} - strike = never{/if you're being iRoNIC}

______________________________

modern au | ben prestor solo, the senator's son

Happiness:

Being unable to stop smiling. Laughter. Bear hugs. Happy tears. Waving arms around. Dancing. Contentedly sighing. Eyes twinkling. Laugh lines. Childlike playfulness. Skipping. Talking more. Talking louder. Affection. Cracking more jokes than usual. Gesturing more when talking. Higher pitched voice. Squealing. Jumping around. Clapping. Singing / humming. 

Sadness:

Tearing up. Self-hugging. One-arm cross. An aching chest. Scratchy throat. A runny nose. Turning away. Deep breaths. Quivery smiles. Crying. Infantile sobbing. Hands gripping each other or an object. Speaking less. Taking up less space. Covering mouth. Puffy eyes. Eyes appear red. Voice breaking. A distant or empty stare. Monotone voice. Asking for comfort. Faking a smile. Crumbling. Shaking. Whimpering. Depression. Abusing an unhealthy habit. Withdrawing from others. Big teary eyes. Doing something even if it could hurt them. 

Anger:

Furrowed brows. Baring teeth. Passive-aggressive comments. Avoiding eye contact. Sarcasm. Headache. Sore muscles. Hiding clenched fists. Irritability. Jumping to conclusions. Raising voice. Going silent. Demanding immediate action. Keeping it all in until exploding. Body tensing. Making risky decisions. Middle finger. 

Fear:

Wanting to flee or hide. What-ifs. Images of what-could-be flashing in mind. Uncontrollable trembling. Rapid breathing. Screaming. A skewed sense of time. Irritability. Keeping silent. Denying fear. Turning away from the cause. Pretending to be brave. Nail-biting. Lip-biting. Scratching skin. A joking tone but a voice that cracks. Fainting. Insomnia. Panic attacks. Exhaustion. Substance abuse. Tics. Rushing adrenaline. Face draining of colour. Hair lifting on the back of the neck. Feeling rooted to the spot. Making body as small as possible. Staring but not seeing. Crying. A shrill voice. Whispering. Gripping something or someone. Stuttering. Flinching at noises. Pleading. Feeling sick. 

Exhaustion:

Constantly yawning. Blurring words together. Dark circles or lines under eyes. Mood swings. Hallucinations. Calling people by the wrong name. Dizziness. Denying they’re tired. Slow blinking. Trouble concentrating. Stumbling. Leaning on a doorframe for support. Sluggish movements. Falling asleep someplace that isn’t a bed. Becoming irritated by the smallest things. “I’m awake, I’m fine.” Shaking so bad they spill their drink. Fall asleep in their clothes. Lay their head on the table because they’re so tired. Passing out.

______________________________

dark ren au | the renegade

Happiness:

Being unable to stop smiling. Laughter. Bear hugs. Happy tears. Waving arms around. Dancing. Contentedly sighing. Eyes twinkling. Laugh lines. Childlike playfulness. Skipping. Talking more. Talking louder. Affection. Cracking more jokes than usual. Gesturing more when talking. Higher pitched voice. Squealing. Jumping around. Clapping. Singing / humming. 

Sadness:

Tearing up. Self-hugging. One-arm cross. An aching chest. Scratchy throat. A runny nose. Turning away. Deep breaths. Quivery smiles. Crying. Infantile sobbing. Hands gripping each other or an object. Speaking less. Taking up less space. Covering mouth. Puffy eyes. Eyes appear red. Voice breaking. A distant or empty stare. Monotone voice. Asking for comfort. Faking a smile. Crumbling. Shaking. Whimpering. Depression. Abusing an unhealthy habit. Withdrawing from others. Big teary eyes. Doing something even if it could hurt them. 

Anger:

Furrowed brows. Baring teeth. Passive-aggressive comments. Avoiding eye contact. Sarcasm. Headache. Sore muscles. Hiding clenched fists. Irritability. Jumping to conclusions. Raising voice. Going silent. Demanding immediate action. Keeping it all in until exploding. Body tensing. Making risky decisions. Middle finger. 

Fear:

Wanting to flee or hide. What-ifs. Images of what-could-be flashing in mind. Uncontrollable trembling. Rapid breathing. Screaming. A skewed sense of time. Irritability. Keeping silent. Denying fear. Turning away from the cause. Pretending to be brave. Nail-biting. Lip-biting. Scratching skin. A joking tone but a voice that cracks. Fainting. Insomnia. Panic attacks. Exhaustion. Substance abuse. Tics. Rushing adrenaline. Face draining of colour. Hair lifting on the back of the neck. Feeling rooted to the spot. Making body as small as possible. Staring but not seeing. Crying. A shrill voice. Whispering. Gripping something or someone. Stuttering. Flinching at noises. Pleading. Feeling sick. 

Exhaustion:

Constantly yawning. Blurring words together. Dark circles or lines under eyes. Mood swings. Hallucinations. Calling people by the wrong name. Dizziness. Denying they’re tired. Slow blinking. Trouble concentrating. Stumbling. Leaning on a doorframe for support. Sluggish movements. Falling asleep someplace that isn’t a bed. Becoming irritated by the smallest things. “I’m awake, I’m fine.” Shaking so bad they spill their drink. Fall asleep in their clothes. Lay their head on the table because they’re so tired. Passing out.

______________________________

tagged by:// @brooklynislandgirl my one, my only <33

tagging:// @ofcatnaps, @ronmanmob, @riiese, @ofcatnaps, @ofthestcrs, @desireandduty, @datapadz, @graysistance, @hopegained, @lastxdragon, @corinnebaileyrp, @mayxthexforce, @chromium-siren, @smokinmirrors, @talesofshadowandlight, @etoilebleu, @kyberllcore, @jakkuforce, @madxwonderland, @lightsiided, @big-d-little-i-big-n-little-ozzo, @werspinna, @valkxrie, @thesilverandjetsystem, @thanaredreamtof, and you ~ {feel free to ignore if you've already done this one}

#DO NOT REBLOG #muse meme #m. au | modern!ben: the senator's son #sw au | dark!ren: renegade knight #modern!verse headcanons #dark!ren headcanons #{let me know if you do not want to be @ed in muse memes}

[kylo-wrecked]

7. where is your muse most sensitive? 16. what is/are your muse's love language(s)? 17. what are some of the signs that your muse shows their care/love without saying they love/care about their partner?

(2/3 of these may or may not be easily answered with "murder and/or pain," but i'll leave it to you to give us a serious answer for/from dearest dark!Ren.)

{ 🕯️ You conjured: Dark!Ren: The Renegade Knight }

He is most sensitive wherever he is perceived.

Respect, encouragement (can be answered with violence/murder). Sparring—physical, and as Ren ages away from himself, mental, intense physiological warfare. He may initiate transient corporal contact; that contact can be deadly but not invariably so.* 

With his presence, with everything unsaid.**

—☾—

*In the words of mun, he basically helm-bumps his buddies. I'm in a helmet; you're in a helmet, I'm a Ren, you're a Ren; tap. I've seen American football players partake in this semi-affectionate head-to-head tap of solidarity. 

**When Ren begins watching Cael sleep, it's to figure out why. Why she needs rest and how she rests. Perhaps he has other reasons. Perhaps he never finds out. 

@nightmarefuele

#nightmarefuele #sw au | dark!ren: renegade knight #dark!ren headcanons #queue de la k #edited: for quality assurance

[kylo-wrecked]

"You're the most amazing person I've met." [Said to Dark!Ren, while very tired and a little bit tipsy]

The angel struggled to sleep. This Ren knew because he neither struggled nor slept. Sleep was a foreign land to him, one he would not go to willingly. He hung cross-legged in dreamless, suspended animation, deadened, half-blind gaze fixed to the starry expanse.

Did Brunnhilde dream? He didn't ask; when she woke, she shot up, her eyes two suns, her wings spread like the dawn. Had she caught something in her mind's nexus, Brunnhilde would've brought him the kill, stringy flesh in her talons.

"There's an old remedy for sleeplessness. Though I haven't required one for some time."

Ren rose, helmless and half-dressed, and passed over the crosshatch of floor panels. The cracks between them looked purposeful, almost modular. Their black veins ran up the wall, and when he pressed his palm against the alloy square, it opened into a pristine, grey cavity with a cask hidden inside. 

This he brought to the table, poured Brunnhilde a cup of some substance like a husky wine. None for himself, though he rested his substantial shadow on the bench across from her. Ren stood out among his spartan quarters of inbuilt ore furnishings, the single unmade sleeper, and so did Brunnhilde. The stars outside the viewports thinned into frail light rods, and the black deepened. Still, the contour of Brunnhilde's thigh showed beneath her white-drenched tunic, a pleasant detail for one who'd notice.

Ren silently observed as Brunnhilde tested the cup's contents, how she frowned and wrinkled her nose before giving in. Watching her react—joy, heartbreak, or disgust rendered on the face of another—was a boon, for he'd forgotten what those things meant.

She spoke for the first time since waking. 

Ren's features carried an inevitable weight. Wrath had been carved into its ridges and planes long ago, but the mien was placid. And yet the eyes showed a quickly snuffed flame—'amazing?' The hinge of cybernetic whirred. Amusement.

"What makes you think that? I simply do as the Ren does."

#valkxrie #sw au | dark!ren: renegade knight #mini thread #{don’t humblebrag you little shit}

[kylo-wrecked]

“You didn’t answer me right away. You had to think about it first, didn’t you?” (cael)

{ 🎁  You know you want: Ren, The Harbinger }

She'd asked a simple question; he hadn't intended to answer. And the gale chips no block from the shoulder of the mountain, for all it whipped at the summit.  

In his first days, when he donned the aboriginal flesh, Kylo Ren might have retaliated with sardonic questions of his own. Celebrate what? Observe life? For a single day? What trifle. But even this ember within him, which kept the soul he used as a hearth to the Ren aflame for decades, existed only in his mind's eye as a half-remembered dream.

Caelesis had entered that dream ephemerally, in the Valdrada-ridden quarter that formed parallel to Ren as it fed on the body he refused. She had leaned his fallen crown on her arm and dragged him to shore. She had demanded he not bleed here, into the sea. Perhaps she'd demanded the aid of the Dius, demanded their blood. 

Her voice had shaped Ren, the way strong winds cause snowdrifts, rockfalls, and erosions, subtle shifts that occur over millennia. He let Cael perform her naive experiments on his vessel, where flesh wove with durasteel and beskar. He allowed her onto his transport. A breathing thing, he called it. Not like her. The ship had no viewports and no ramp; it was an organism. When he pressed his carnal palm to it, a seam opened in its aloe-soft abdomen, and they stepped inside. Nothing could be seen from within because it knew where to go with concord and awareness. It had a name and a pulse. It understood hyperspace and couldn't be traced; it was not registered and ate metals, cables, and compounds. 

The ship was given to him in those first days, days filled with questions, some answered, some unresolved. Caelesis was voracious with questions. Questions about Eventide pyres, Winterfest night raids and witches. She wanted his old days, too. There were none to tell of. 

Yes, he admitted, in his secret tongue. He did not use words, but if he had, they might have been:  I can't recall. The past fades once one grows beyond it and only sears when held upon.

The ship breathed, a vein in its roof pulsed . Ren was a monolith draped in thick, dark synthcloth. He made no breath, no sound. Only his tattered shroud, feathered and full of bones, made any noise.

Unwise to hold to pain that sows no seeds. He turned to her, helmet cocked affectionately, to the degree it could be named so, his dull red eye peering at her through the shards of his visor. Why do you wish to know?

Ren didn't have to ask. He could pluck the answer from Cael's pristine, clockwork head like a fig, like the finger of a rival in war, rawed down to the bone and hung on his cowl, but she had stamped him with her sight and her wonder, and he was curious. 

@nightmarefuele

#nightmarefuele #sw au | dark!ren: renegade knight #v. videntis #seasons greasons

[kylo-wrecked]

@valkxrie sent:// 🤛 [Dark!Ren] She was proud of herself, and her not-at-all-innocent smile did not betray it. She was also panting, damp with sweat, and the ache in her hand extended the entire way up her arm. But she was smiling. He was an excellent fighter. Brash, bold, absolutely intimidating. But, training was training and they had agreed not to hold back. Brunnhilde extended said hand. A parley. A truce. Still grinning.

{ from this meme | accepting }

—☾—

The pleasures of Brunnhilde's world were foreign to him, save the craft of combat.

Perhaps she allowed the dance to go on for a time before landing a blow.

He didn't stumble, yet he flinched; a panther stunned by his prey, a wolf lunged at by a fellow of his pack—and that was all. Certainly, the bite from a Valkyrie's knuckles would induce glorifying pain, and it did leave some impression on Ren, smarting the way the relic scar on his cheek would for years after it was made into him. He tasted his own blood without tasting it, like a king who tasted ash in his goblet and only knew wine by its color.

It had been a time since he'd fought this way, hand-to-hand, body-to-body. 

"Well met," Ren said, meeting Brunnhilde's hand with his. Warm, unlike him, and the hinge-side of his metal jaw, the un-skinned cybernetic forearm, and knobbed alloy digits whirring idly; the very motion granting it the temperamental magic of personality that seemed only to occupy Ren when he moved through what he called the Force. 

#valkxrie #sw au | dark!ren: renegade knight #r. tbd #{can someone pls offer me a tag for this verse in these trying times}

[kylo-wrecked]

“All I want is what I have coming to me. All I want is my fair share.” [Dark!Ren]

{ 🎁  You broke and bought: Dark!Ren }

Wild space apportioned dying light. The stars grew sparser as if one cluster meant to avoid another, to shiver in silence until they died. Time passed slowly in this endless black sea, and nothing escaped its fjords. Ren was as much a part of the black as hydrogen and cosmic dust. 

He faced the Valkyrie unhelmed. Urgent as the trail of scar tissue that joined his lips and cheek to the cold, alloy jaw. 

"You speak of fairness? When you know what will come? You, of all creatures." 

Rather than displeasure, Ren wore patience on the course fore of his face—a mien ruined by fairness' price, by someone taking vengeance. Nevertheless, he bore the wound without airs. Sacrifice was required to maintain anything of value. He had lost his eye to the avenger, now his Armory. He had sacrificed his left hand and forearm and his blood-pumping organ to the Ren. To the Ren, he had given his body as vessel, to be as empty of despair, desire, and greed as the transport that carried them beyond the outer regions was of light. Yet here he stood, shoulder to shoulder with Brunnhilde, so close their foreheads might have touched, close enough to feel her hot breath on his cheek, to see the blaze of defiance in her eyes, to feel it curl in the pit of her belly. 

"And what is your fair share?" he asked.

@valkxrie

#valkxrie #sw au | dark!ren: renegade knight #seasons greasons #queue de la k #edited: for quality assurance

[kylo-wrecked]

heheh 🖤

from cael, for dark!ren.

{ from this meme }

attractiveness:

repulsive / hideous / ugly / not attractive / unappealing / not unattractive / meh / no preference / ok / mildly attractive / nice looking / cute / adorable / attractive / pleasant on the eyes / good looking / hot / sexy / beautiful / gorgeous / hot damn / would tap that / perfect / godlike / holy fuck there are no words.

personality:

grating / irritating / frustrating / boring / confusing at best / awkward / unreasonable / psychotic / disturbing / interesting/engaging / affectionate / aggressive / ambitious / anxious / artistic / bad tempered / bossy / charismatic / appealing / unappealing / creative / courageous / dependable / unreliable / unpredictable / predictable / devious / dim / extroverted / introverted / egotistical / gregarious / fabulous / impulsive / intelligent / sympathetic / talkative / up beat / peaceful / calming / badass / flexible.

how likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending / fuck no! / never / no way / not likely / not sure / indifferent / I’m asexual / maybe / probably / it depends / fairly likely / likely / yeah sure / yes / would tap that / hell yes / fuck yes! / wishing that could happen right now / as many times as possible / we are already having “””sex.”””

level of friendship:

never in a million years / worst of enemies / enemies / rivals / indifferent / neutral / acquaintance / friendly toward each other / casual friends / friends / good friends / best friends / fuck buddies / bosom buddies / practically the same person / would die for them (again) / true friends / my only friend.

first impression of them:

i hate them so much / i don’t like them / i don’t trust them / they annoy me / they’re weird / I’m indifferent / meh / they seem alright / they’re growing on me / truce / I think I like them / I like them / I’m not sure if I trust them / I trust them / they’re cool / they’re genuine / I think we’re going to get along / I really like them / I think I’m in love / oh fuck they’re hot / I love them.

current impression of them:

i hate them so much / i don’t like them / i don’t trust them / they annoy me / they’re weird / I’m indifferent / meh / they seem alright / they’re growing on me / truce / I think I like them / I like them / I’m not sure if I trust them / I trust them / they’re cool / they’re genuine / I think we’re going to get along / I really like them / I think I’m in love / oh fuck they’re hot / I love them.

Cael: What is 'love?'

Ren: *helm tilt*

Cael: Okay.

#nightmarefuele #muse meme #sw au | dark!ren: renegade knight #ren & cael: a cloak and dagger #{good talk good talk}

[kylo-wrecked]

@valkxrie :// { cont'd from here }

—☾—

First, fluid. The Ren nearing him, submerging his mind’s eye, spreading to the body. Then light and sound, and he’s pulled from the world in between worlds by an echo. A voice. Feminine and certain. 

Waking is difficult. Not due to the pain, though his body seethes with it, but because he has not slept in eight years. 

Sleep is dangerous in the world Ren comes from. Dreams were parlous. They could be walked and whittled to the rounded brink of a scalpel. Dreams made into weapons. 

He cannot be sure he’s returned to the world he came from, the world of blood and blaster fire. However many times Ren blinks sleep from his eyes, however many times they open on the beseeching face in front of him. A woman, fair. Imploring. 

‘You know me,’ she says. And although Ren doesn’t buck her gentle hands from his face, his right eye tracks her like a laser when recognition sets in, the ferocity in his gaze transmuted into his power. The left is a dry and yellowed pearl. Only watching, occasionally blinking. 

“How long?” 

His voice rasps, but it’s soft, unperverted by the helm’s vocoder. The face obstinate, undeniably human indeed. Filled with reproach. The cybernetic whirrs gently when he sets his jaw. His hand, warm, stippled with veins, rubs absently at Brunnhilde’s wrapping.  

“How long?” he asks again. “How long have I been out?”

#valkxrie #sw au | dark!ren: renegade knight #mini thread #queue de la k