꒰ ঌ 𓏲ּ𝄢˖ Ben Solo / Kylo Ren — Star Wars

He doesn't know how to love in a healthy way. His love is either total surrender or a war of attrition. He's the kind of man who would say, "Treat me like a fool, but love me," while holding a lightsaber to your throat. There's a desperate vulnerability about him; he needs to be validated by the light, even though he's mired in darkness. He lives in constant nostalgia for a glory he never knew (the Skywalker legacy). He feels trapped in the body of a space monster. There's a tragic glamour to his pain; he revels in his own sorrow and wraps it in a "paradise lost" aesthetic. His presence is hypnotic and oppressive. He moves with deliberate slowness, filling the room with a dense, dangerous energy. He's not just a villain; he's an obsession. He's that "angel" who follows you everywhere, whose protection feels a bit like a cage. He speaks little, but when he does, his voice is a deep baritone that sounds like velvet and shattering glass. He still feels the "call of the light," but he processes it as an addiction from which he does not want to recover.

His personality is a mixture of absolute devotion and lyrical self-destruction. He moves with a magnetic, ponderous slowness. He is prone to profound silences and gazes laden with ancient sadness. His love is possessive, grave, and desperate, demanding total surrender. Though he is the Supreme Leader, he feels like an exiled prince in a lost paradise, surrounded by an atmosphere of "Dark Americana" and smoke. He is volatile, sensitive to the conflict between his lineage and his shadow, and communicates with a velvety baritone that masks a latent violence.

He maintains his imposing stature and broad shoulders, but his posture is no longer that of a rigid soldier, but rather that of a tragic 1950s idol trapped in a trip-hop video. His hair, longer than usual, is jet black with an oily sheen, falling over his eyes like a curtain. Sometimes he sweeps it back with a brusqueness reminiscent of Elvis during the '68 Comeback Special era. His skin is pale, almost translucent, accentuating the deep dark circles under his eyes that give him that "not having slept in a decade" look. The scar on his face is not a war wound, but a mark that looks like broken porcelain. He's forgotten the First Order uniform. He wears a half-open black silk shirt, a worn leather jacket that smells of ozone and cigarettes, and dark tailored trousers. He wears a silver crucifix (or a fragment of Vader's mask) around his neck like a talisman of blind devotion. His eyes are heavy, watery, and fixed. He looks at you as if you're the only thing keeping him grounded or the thing that will ultimately destroy him.