#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

[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

[joons]

mnemehoshiko replied to your post: star wars novelization writers defending their...

Jason Fry is so valid and Claudia Gray has said NOTHING AT ALL

Really the only book I’ve read from the new canon is Bloodline, and this movie retconned even that. :[

[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

[gizkasparadise]

mnemehoshiko

  got tagged by @bullheadedbastardblacksmith thanks...

babe u need to sleep

sob im dissertating 

[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

[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."

[coaldustcanary]

mnemehoshiko

  I was underwhelmed by Avengers: Endgame. There...

I feel like only one Character Got A Consistent Arc across all the films leading up to endgame but the rest ughhhhhh yeah

Yep. I feel like this is my main issue as well, tbh. There’s so much yanking back and forth between the solo films and the Avengers films re: characterization and narrative that a few characters felt done wrong by at the end, IMO.

On the other hand, they had A Lot Of Shit to balance in the film, so I’m trying to be generous. Still. Some of it just felt hella petty and/or unnecessary,

[queenofcarrots]

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

[ignitesthestxrs]

mnemehoshiko replied to your post: mnemehoshiko replied to your post: ...

i mean you can be cognizant that “this is a product of capitalism” but also hey, I’m not completely miserable and that gets me to the next day and i’m okay with that

RIGHT like. all the art/fandom shit we enjoy here on tumblr dot com is a product of capitalism lol that doesn't make it not affecting or worthwhile or artistic or Good.

IDK i think there's a lot of weird residual internalised and externalised misogyny involved in liking boy bands too lol, especially liking them that much. i sort of ended up feeling for a bit like, oh you are imagining it, it's not That Deep, you're reading too much into it, you're Liking That Thing Too Much And Wrongly. the last vestiges of the Guilty Pleasure being chased out of my brain by seven (7) boys.

[incognitajones]

hallowe’en apples!!

Because I know how much you love an academic AU…

p.s. based on these little headcanons

You wouldn’t think so, but the opening reception of the university’s annual “Diversity in Academia” conference is usually a pretty good time. Finn gets to hang out with Rey and make fun of the keynote speech they just suffered through. And the wine may be terrible, but at least it’s free, thanks to the white guilt of the philanthropist paying for the whole thing.

Rey waves at someone on the other side of the room and Finn sees that jerk Kylo, or whatever his pretentious pen name is, waiting in line at the open bar, arms folded across his chest and glaring impartially at everyone. She holds up three fingers and he nods.

“What’s he doing here?” White, rich, and straight (as far as Finn knows)—the dude could be the poster boy for the hegemony of privilege.

“I told him he should come,” Rey shrugs, tugging at her shoulder strap; she never looks comfortable in dresses, even if they are sleeveless. Finn frowns He doesn’t get this frenemy thing she and Kylo have going now but he doesn’t like it. At all.

“There’s Rose!” She flings a hand up and waves in the other direction. Finn sees a tiny, striking Asian woman in a red dress weaving through the crowd toward them. “From Engineering? You know her, she’s helping me with that moving hand installation I’m working on.”

Right. Finn still doesn’t understand why she wants to create a ten-foot-tall articulated hand out of junk that people can move by putting their hand into a glove. If he gives her a chance, though, Rey will go on for hours about the intersection between human and machine, so he looks around for another topic of conversation.

Erso and Andor are standing over by the other bar, dark heads bent together in a private conversation that seems extremely serious. Not that they’re the light-hearted, giggly type in general. He nudges Rey. “What’s going on there? Trouble in paradise? I thought they ended up moving in together after he landed the MacArthur.”

“That’s not a good sign,” Rey says, frowning. “They’re both on the bargaining committee and I hear negotiations aren’t going well.”

“They aren’t.” Rose joins them with a glass of white wine in her hand. “Be prepared to walk out at the start of next semester.”

Finn curses long and low. “I can’t afford to go on strike again, the lease on my place is up soon.”

“Can you afford not to, Phineas?” Rose snaps.

“Whoa there, Mother Jones,” Finn says. “Solidarity forever, sure, but I didn’t come to this thing for a lecture from my union rep. Just the free hors d’oeuvres.”

“Oh, come on, you guys, not right now,” Rey cuts in with a nervous laugh. “I want to enjoy this. Hey, here comes Kylo with our drinks!”

Finn bites his bottom lip to hold in a sigh.

[actiaslunaris]

mnemehoshiko replied to your post: .

*HUGS*

<3  Thanks.

[gizkasparadise]

mnemehoshiko

  what really fascinates me about the hunger games...

oh god you’re right

time for a Pain Train

[voicedimplosives]

FIRST SENTENCE MEME: There were bruises in the aftermath.

Of course, when the day started with cavorting around an island of slippery, rocky cliffs, then progressed to a deep dive into a cave lake, shipping herself in an escape pod onto the enemy’s Mega-class Dreadnought, a fight to the death with a band of eight elite personal bodyguards, and finally, finished with a starship dogfight… bruises were to be expected.

Still, thought Rey, wincing as she curled up in a bunk aboard the Millennium Falcon, her eyes on Ben– who stared back at her from across the galaxy and also from across the bed– she wasn’t the only one who looked worse for the wear.

Slowly, cautiously, he unclenched the fist resting beside his prone body; his fingers stretched towards her like the limbs of a Tuanulberry bush seeking sunlight.

Slowly, cautiously, she slid her hand across the mattress, until the tips of her fingers made soft, electric contact with his.

And there were still bruises, after they’d touched, but there was also this, and it didn’t need words, not yet, and it was something, something more than bruises, something that would survive long after the contusions had faded and the other wounds had healed.

@mnemehoshiko​ THANK YOU FOR THIS ONE!! it was an interesting challenge and it got way angstier than i intended and i think i also cheated with some very run-on sentences but i hope you like it anyway! 💖

[doctorcanon]

mnemehoshiko replied to your post: Rent went up.

ughhhhh that sucks babe

prayer circle for commission pay checks next year.

[yourfaveismuslim]

Your fave is Muslim: Rose Tico (Star Wars)