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echofarandfaint.bsky.social
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@echofarandfaint.bsky.social
520 followers 420 following 2.5K posts
Rom-communist | itinerant writer | 30s | she/they | nsfw

https://archiveofourown.org/users/Echofarandfaint

#nsfwreyloprompt
#reyloprompt
#sapphicreylo
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echofarandfaint.bsky.social
Hmmm what have we here
November 29, 2025 at 4:07 PM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
So many bots commenting on Ay Oh Three and they’re all so bonkers…like what do you mean my presence pushes your artistic flow into deeper territory??
November 28, 2025 at 11:42 PM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
This reminds me of one my first fics:

all young lovers know why”

🪐 canon-divergent, mid-TROS
🖋️e, complete, one-shot, 9k
❤️‍🩹 rewriting TROS, this is canon to me

archiveofourown.org/works/52930267
November 28, 2025 at 11:08 PM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
NEW: "non serviam"

a mob boss Rey flash fic to survive the day before thanksgiving

- undercover cop Ben x mafia Rey
- Rey tops another woman to teach Ben a lesson

archiveofourown.org/works/74831266
November 27, 2025 at 2:19 AM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
The godfather part 1 & 2 lmao
Michael fucking Corleone sitting in a chair lkke a boss
November 26, 2025 at 7:54 PM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
Something something in the winter Alpha Ben advertises his spare room on an Alpha-only listserv (technically illegal but it would so complicated to live with an Omega) and Alpha Rey replies…yes they’re territorial opposites but at least there’s no chance of accidentally triggering each others ruts
BBC news headline: is there any science behind ‘cuffing season’? Each year in late autumn, single people seek out romantic relationships for the cold, dark winter months. But is there any science behind it?
November 25, 2025 at 9:10 PM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
good morning
@bottleneckloser I was flirting with my boyfriend the other day and he got so hard he started crying
November 21, 2025 at 2:31 PM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
In his apartment, which has underfloor heating, a stocked fridge, and Egyptian cotton sheets on the bed, Rey showers and puts on the soft sweatshirt and pants Ben gives her. It’s not that she relents, exactly, but she’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. If she uses his shampoo, and spends a few minutes inhaling the scent of it, it’s because it’s been a long time since she’s had anything that expensive on her body and it feels good to pour his blood money right down the drain. If he cooks her dinner and she eats it, she’s not forgiving him, it’s just a redistribution of wealth. If she decides after dinner that she is, in fact, going to fuck him, it isn’t because she thinks he’s a good person. It’s because he’s there and she’s angry, and she’s already been fucked by the man once already in twenty-four hours, so why shouldn’t she at least get some pleasure out of it this time? She scratches him, pulls his hair, and leaves a bite mark so deep on his shoulder that it starts to bruise right before her eyes, and he doesn’t complain, just moans under her like he knows he’s fucked up. He’s not a cop, technically, but he might as well be the way he tries to flip her on her back and kiss her. She slaps him in the mouth instead. “Fuck, Rey,” he says, and doesn’t manage much more before he’s coming hard, his whole body shuddering as she digs her nails into his neck. Afterwards, the tiredness kicks in, heavy and all-consuming, and that’s the only reason she lets him hold her, stroking long fingers up and down her arms like he’s soothing a wound. “You can call me any time, you know,” he says, hoarsely. “Not just when you get arrested.” Rey’s limbs feel heavy, like they’re pulling her down into the bed. Her wrists ache from the zip ties and there’s a pain in her rib where the cop kicked her. Ben snakes an arm around her, pulling her closer to his warm chest. It feels…good. “Thanks,” she says. And then, because nothing good can last: “But no thanks.”
November 20, 2025 at 9:27 PM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
Rey takes a deep breath of winter air. She’s free again. But now she owes him. Her bail was extortionate. (“Fourth arrest,” the bottle blonder officer filling out the paperwork explained, lined lips pursed around a ballpoint.) Rey owes Ben, and isn’t wise to owe a debt you can’t pay with money. Everyone knew that. “I’m parked over here.” He has a nice car, she remembers. A Lexus. The kind of fancy that smells of new leather that squeaks as you slide in. Lawyer money. The hourly rates you get from clients that are slumlords and Me Too’d politicians. ACAB means him too, Rey had wanted to tell the officer when Ben arrived. He’s just my ride. But she hadn’t said anything. She knows better now. The car is warm, the relief jolting through her. Fuck, when was the last time she’d been really, truly warm? They’d been fighting with the pilot light in the gas heater in their shared apartment in Flatbush for weeks, Finn bent over with a match and a look of grim determination. Rey had got used to sleeping in a hat and a scarf. “Want me to take you home?” No, she doesn’t. Rose and Finn are still locked up and Rey knows she won’t be able to sleep at the apartment anyway, thinking about her friends in separate lock-ups. Rey knows why she’s out and they’re not. Because on occasion, and in her lower moments, she has fucked Ben Solo, corporte lawyer and part-time do-gooder who thinks he can make up for his daily sins by volunteering two hours a week with the migrant legal clinic where they’d met. Well, it’s not going to work this time. “Rey?” Ben’s driving, navigating the salted roads and taking his eyes off the wheel to look at her with a weirdly beseeching expression. “Can you please tell me where I am taking you?” “Yours,” she says, quietly, because she doesn't want it to be true. He nods, and looks ahead, reaching between them to shift gears. But unfortunately, he’s not done. “What was it this time?” Rey slumps further down in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. “Offices of an arms dealership,” she says, thinking of the red paint they’d lugged in-and-out of the storage unit, the car they’d rented under a false name. All of it, wasted. How had the cops known? There had to be someone ratting them out. She would figure out who it was, and when she did – “Fucking christ, Rey,” Ben splutters. “These are very serious people you’re fucking with, you know?” “Yeah, that’s kind of the point, Ben,” she shoots back. “Why would we go after small fry?” “Because then I wouldn’t be spending every other weekend driving to some suburb to rescue you.” After that, there’s silence. It’s a tense truce, but it lasts all the way to Midtown.
November 20, 2025 at 9:27 PM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
new flash fic for the @reyloffanth.bsky.social November challenge:

"no comment"

angry activist rey x long-suffering and possibly evil lawyer ben

archiveofourown.org/works/74508086
Rey’s hand is sweaty on the orange plastic phone on the front desk at the precinct. The balding officer, who smells of stale coffee and old cigarettes, looks like he’s calculating overtime in his head. “Just one call,” he says, flicking through a copy of the Post’s sport section. She runs through the names of comrades in her head. People who would be more than willing to sit in the overly-heated waiting room all night until she’s processed and released. She thinks of the phone-trees she’ll activate. The sleeping people who’ll be woken up for her. Again. With a sinking feeling, Rey dials the number she has memorized because she told herself it would help her forget. It rings, and for a moment she thinks he won’t answer. In a way, it would be a relief. Proof that he’s the wrong person to call, that he cannot, in fact, be relied upon. But no. The line clicks.“Rey?” His voice has a rough edge from sleepless nights spent over briefs and appeals, from too many cups of coffee too late in the day. She swallows. Doesn’t answer. “Rey?” She hears soft shuffling, the sound of sheets being thrown back. She can almost feel them. He clears his throat. Then, more softly: “Did you get booked again?” He can’t see her, but Rey nods, tears threatening finally to burst out of her seams. She hasn’t cried all day. Not from the heady adrenaline before the action, or the clutching fear when it became obvious the police had already been tipped off. Not from the pain in her zip-tied wrists in the militarized cop-carrier. Not even when Rose cried, more out of frustration at her careful plans being thwarted than anything. But it’s the softness Ben reserves for her that undoes Rey. She does not want to be in anyone’s custody. Especially his. “Tell me where you are, Rey.” He’ll be there soon, cash in hand. Crumpled suit and snow in his hair. “And in the meantime, you remember what I told you?” “Yeah,” Rey says at last. “No comment.” * The chill of the air outside the precinct doors knocks the life back into her. Ben eyes her with a sideways glance, his hands on his lapels though he’s going to offer her his coat. But he doesn’t. He knows better now.
November 20, 2025 at 9:27 PM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
In which undercover cop Ben meets his target, mob boss Rey, at one of the Times Square strip clubs she runs

(Manip by @kyloremus.bsky.social)

#reyloww
November 19, 2025 at 5:25 PM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
Please Louis, I can’t —
With my office hours, with flowers and sirens, With my budget, my latchkey and my daily bread.’ And so to London and down the ever-moving Stairs Where a warm wind blows the bodies of men together And blows apart their complexes and cares.
November 19, 2025 at 12:46 AM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
Sir if you could just —
And I am in the train too now and summer is going South as I go north Bound for the dead leaves falling, the burning bonfire, The dying that brings forth The harder life, revealing the tree’s girders, The frost that kills the germs of laissez-faire
November 19, 2025 at 12:42 AM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
Rereading Autumn Journal, Louis MacNeice’s booklength poem from 1938, because ‘tis the season, and I —

ia801509.us.archive.org/7/items/in.e...
Extract from Autumn Journal by Louis MacNeice: “It is this we learn after so many failures, The building of castles, of queens in snow, That we cannot make any corner in life or life’s beauty, That no river is a river which does not flow.”
November 19, 2025 at 12:38 AM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
Reminds of this which I saw yesterday
November 18, 2025 at 6:06 PM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
Just @ me next time, bro
November 17, 2025 at 1:31 AM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
I got commissioned to write an enemies-to-lovers arranged marriage to raise money for Palestinian children and may I introduce one of the silliest things I’ve written thus far:

Roman Legion commander Ben(edictus) who is very reluctantly participating in the invasion of Britain.

#reylosss
Not once, since he’d arrived in the barbaric country had any of the British servants referred to him with the correct honorifics. Much of the wine they’d carried from Rome in the bellies of their ships had gone rancid. His soldiers were afflicted by colds, flus and stomach bugs. The tents in their camps could not withstand the icy winter rain. And worst of all, Snocinous, having ordered Benedictus away from his villa and his soft bed and the beseeching meretrices of the Palatium, seemed determined to keep him. So determined, in fact, that he had found Benedictus a British wife.
November 16, 2025 at 3:09 PM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
Very niche but this has such Reylo potential for the right freak (me) to write
Tweet from @nassaujuan that reads: Guy I know moved to Bushwick. He matched with a girl on hinge who called herself a “revolutionary communist.” He told her he was also a leftist. “Are you organized?” she answered. “Yes, I’m in a union” he said. “No,” she replied, “I mean, are you in a cell?”
November 16, 2025 at 3:44 AM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
To celebrate the Starbucks workers strike heres picket line Rey and Tesla-driving Ben
November 15, 2025 at 9:10 PM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
Revolutionary Letter #96 Poem at dawn Empire is its own Undoing Diane Di Prima
November 14, 2025 at 7:26 PM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
A fic (in my drafts) that asks: what if disgraced cop Ben was sent undercover to infiltrate mob boss Rey’s inner-circle. What then??
Ben nodded. He’d read her file. Rey Callahan. The Queen of Times Square. Young and wild, a girl in a world of hard men who earned her place by spilling blood and taking names. The daughter of a gangster who’d beaten out all his men to take over his empire herself. A legend. A big problem, for the good officers of the New York City Police Department. A criminal’s wet dream. His new target. But a woman, at the end of it all, just like all the others. How difficult could this be? “You stay in for as long as it takes, Solo.”
November 14, 2025 at 1:07 AM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
November 9, 2025 at 9:33 PM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
Just some toxic Kyla/Ben/Rey smut to chase away the Sunday scaries
November 9, 2025 at 9:33 PM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
Update: I am LOVING Don’t Sleep With the Dead- a speculative fiction Great Gatsby fanfic that follows gay journalist Nick Carraway thru 1930s NYC

“Dead men weren’t free, but I wasn’t dead. Instead, I was made of paper, and I walked out into the winter day.”
November 8, 2025 at 6:05 PM
echofarandfaint.bsky.social
I am sorry but Ben's aisle is reminding me of when Melania did scary christmas decorations at the WH
The first lady, Melania Trump, surrounded by blood-soaked Christmas trees
November 8, 2025 at 1:34 AM