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skellymom · 12 days

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"Vagabonds" Chapter 12

Ongoing fanfic Hunter x Reader/Fem Reader/OC

(Pinterest credit: Maulia)

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

To read Chapter 11:

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/744912201871245312/vagabonds-chapter-11?source=share

Word Count: 1.3K

Background: Flashback sequence: Love is born. Who was her father? Hunter having relationship regrets, dark and broody angst. He's got a very small part at the end of this chapter. But I PROMISE to have much more Hunter content in Chapter 13! To help with any confusion: Mad's Clone trans sister (non bio) is named "SHE" (mentioned in Chapter #9 "In The Beginning") and her name is capitalized to prevent any confusion of what character is being spoken of.

Warning: Swearing, fear, physical pain, fainting, blood, breast milk, natural childbirth,Star Wars Canon violence, discussion of Love's genderfluidity.

(Credit: Cool moving star dividers by @4ngelic-wh1spers )

Recap:

Several Night Sisters understood and respected Mad’s choice. And, disagreed with Mother Talzin’s methods. They helped plot secretly to assist with the intervention...some planning to leave with the Nomaadi as well.

...because Mad knew beyond a shadow of a doubt Mother Talzin was only playing at being accommodating. Mad could see the omen of celestial bodies in the sky above her. A baby born under these conditions signaled to Mother Talzin this child would have some sort of significance. She would keep the baby and NEVER let Mad’s child leave this planet.

And she would NEVER let Mad leave alive, either.

"Love's Arrival"

Mad sweating, bore down and pushed.

The baby slid out covered in a caul...silent and unmoving.

A Nightsister handed the baby to Mother Talzin.

“My child...are THEY alive?”

Mother Talzin ignored Mad’s pleas, removing the caul from the baby’s head, dropping it to the ground matter-of-factly. She passively scrutinized the new life in her hands.

“Answer me PLEASE! Are they ALIVE???” Mad was frantic, struggling to hold her composure.

One sister tied the umbilical cord, then Mother Talzin cut it with a sharpened Kyber crystal kife...glowing red.

“Your female child is alive and breathing.” Mother didn’t even bother to look at Mad. “But uncharacteristically quiet for a newborn. She hasn’t even opened her eyes yet.” Mother Talzin traced the vaguely heart shaped red pigmentation around the baby’s eye.

“THEY!” Mad spit out. “The baby is FLUID!!!”

“Oh...and WHO told you THAT?” Mother condescended.

Mad had enough of this woman’s shit. “MY child...in the WOMB! We have a BOND.”

She struggled to sit up, grabbing hold of Mother Talzin’s skirts and yanked HARD.

“GIVE ME MY CHILD!!!” Mad growled gutturally through her teeth.

Mother Talzin’s head snapped around angrily “I am standing in as proxy for MY SON. The child will stay with me until my son is ready for HIS PADAWAN.”

“Maul can kiss my ass! He doesn’t care about HIS child!!!” Mad shot back.

“We shall see when THEY fully manifest their Force powers.”

“At least you FINALLY got the pronouns right this time...BITCH!”

Mother Talzin yanked her skirts out of Mad’s grasp disgustedly. The Nightsisters around her eyed each other nervously. Then one gasped loudly and pointed towards the baby. Mother turned her attention back to the newborn.

The baby’s bright amber eyes bore a hole through Mother Talzin. She could feel it probing her consciousness. Attempting to communicate. No words, of course but...images, feelings, something deeper...

The Vardo and Beldame streaked past the group at low altitude. The ships engaged their sound alarm systems, imitating angry beasts screaming above the people below. Their attempt to intimidate and catch the Nightsisters off guard. Many of them scattered for cover. Several stayed put with Mad.

Mother Talzin stood tall still staring with interest at the baby. The baby stared unflinchingly back at Mother Talzin. The horrifying sound from the approaching ships did not affect either of them.

The ships returned for another pass, flying even lower. Then again, and again...purposely toying with their newfound enemies.

When they had enough of the Nightsisters dispersed for cover, the Vardo quickly landed and dropped a group of Nomaadi mercenaries. Men and women clad in mismatched armor, their helmets in the shapes of angry snarling predatory biomechanical animals, fitted for night and thermal vision. Large blaster weapons trained upon Mother Talzin and in cover formation to ward off rear attack.

The Beldame continued to pass over the sky above them, shrieking like an angry beast. Then circling like a hungry shark. The ship’s weapons ready to blast ANYONE who dared come out from cover to intervene.

Mother Talzin and baby kept each other’s gaze.

The Nightsisters who planned to defect from Dathomir helped Mad up from the ground.

“Give me my child. I won’t ask again!”

Mother Talzin calmly reached into the pocket of her skirts. The Nomaadi braced themselves. Several engaged their weapons from stun to kill.

She pulled out something hidden in her hand, shook it, then tossed the contents at her feet. The Nomaadi Merc in front of her flinched, expecting an explosion or witch magic...

...several small, polished animal bones hit the ground, rolled, and laid to rest just short of his boots.

Mother Talzin regarded them silently. “You may have your child. But there is a cost...”

“It would have cost to let you KEEP my child! Don’t act like you’re doing do ME a favor.” The GALL of this woman.

“YOU will never know peace. If I or my son do not acquire your child, another entity shall.”

“WHO???”

“I cannot name it. SOMETHING that will gain power over everything in this galaxy. Something dark looming over the horizon of our days. It’s coming...and NO ONE can stop it.” With that she kissed the baby on the forehead and let them go.

Mad winced, as she expected her child to drop to the ground once they left Mother Talzin’s hands.

As the Night Witch stepped away, the baby hung in midair...levitating in place. Their eyes changing from bright amber to deep yellow green. Closer to the color of their mother’s.

Mad, with assistance from three Nightsisters, limped to her child and took the baby in her arms.

The Mercs kept position with their front man training his blaster on Mother Talzin as she wandered away into the Dathomirian night.

The Beldame swooped down, hovering 3 feet above the ground, gangplank opened to receive its crew. Mad and the Nightsisters quickly boarded.

The Merc crew of the Vardo, seeing the extraction successfull let their guard down. They didn’t come planning to kill ANYONE, unless extremely necessary. The fear Nomaadi had of the Dathomir Witches proved correct, unfortunately. The fear of their REVENGE.

No sooner had the Witches gotten Mad and her baby aboard then a fire fight broke out between the Nightsisters and Nomaadi Mercenaries. Green plasma fire, red blaster bolts, screams filled the air. SOMETHING huge hit the Vardo, and the ship exploded. Its concussive force rocked the Beldame violently...

...and one of the Witches staggered backward, falling out of the open hatch. Another tried to grab ahold of her and caught open air. Mad’s sister SHE caught the Nightsister before she too fell to her death.

The Beldame’s pilot: Uncle Taavy, struggled to close the gangplank quickly to not lose the rest of the crew. Then engaged the engines to leave the planet.

But the ship shook refusing to budge. He threw the ‘Dame into full throttle. Still it refused to engage. Uncle Taavy swore a string of curses in his Nomaadi tongue.

“What the Kark is happening!” SHE yelled.

The Nightsister in SHE’s arms replied “Mother Talzin and the Witches won’t let us leave.”

Both Witches looked terrified. Terrified of what Mother Talzin would do if they couldn’t escape.

Mad had enough of Maul and his Mother. She handed her baby to the second Nightsister now seated, and purposely strode to the back gunnery. Adrenaline and anger fueled her determination.

She climbed the gunnery and slid into the seat. Through the windscreen Mad witnessed Mother Talzin and the remaining Nightsisters holding back the Dread Beldame with their magic. Green plasma enveloped the ship. Mad ground her teeth in anger, engaged the blaster cannons and started firing away on them.

Mother Talzin blocked the blaster fire. It dissipated hitting nothing.

Mad screamed in anger, beating the walls of the ship with her fists. The space between her legs oozed blood, her breasts leaked milk...and her baby started to wail...for the first time.

The cry was strong and piercing...and angry. Everyone on the ship heard it.

And so did Mother Talzin. She seemed shocked to have done so and immediately stood down. Calling off the fellow Witches.

The ‘Dame shot forward quickly, as if let go by an invisible hand. Uncle Taavy whooped in glee, to be rid of this forsaken planet. He slammed the ship into high gear and hauled ass.

Mad and Mother Talzin locked eyes as the ‘Dame raced away. She swore she’d fight that bitch until the day one of them died. Nobody was taking her child away from her.

The adrenaline was wearing off and the burden of giving birth caught up to Mad. She slumped in the seat, feeling wetness between her legs and chest.

Sister SHE prevented Mad from falling onto the floor...

...Mad descended into darkness again...

Hunter laid on his bunk sifting through the events that transpired since he met Mad.

The throbbing pain between his legs, burning scratch on his face...the deep bite mark that FINALLY stopped bleeding.

His heart ached a bit too. Pain, love, lust, yearning, uncertainty...so much...felt like it would explode.

Cid’s words bounced around his head...paining him that she was possibly RIGHT. It was the ONLY accurate intel Cid had ever given him.

“Ya looking for a world of hurt, Bandana? “Cause that’s all you’re gonna get with that one.”

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

Chapter 13 to arrive in May!

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resetting37 · 18 days

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Happy national siblings day ! Every year I like to draw my oc siblings, and this year is no different ! It’s always fun to draw and talk about their dynamics.

loyalist haramitsu and his older brother tatsuo who's been banished for hosting and has a greater reputation, for better or worse. These two have very differing ideologies and personalities and haven't spoken to each other in a few years, which might be for the best.

twins ian and amber, who are quirky in their own ways but ultimately support each others interests, whether it be ian helping with amber's band or amber partaking in ian's radio show.

another hosting and loyalist sibling duo audrey and big brother nathan, though these two are better at hiding their intentions and have reunited after years of not seeing each other. Maybe they'll continue to get along if they keep their interactions surface level.

pseudo edgy siblings zack, little sister meghan, and their oldest sister crystal, who is not only more popular, but is the literal clone of their mother. i'm sure that's not rubbed in their faces.

cool chill morgan and their tense little sibling simon, who are yet another strained relationship in which morgan is determined to make things right again. but it'll take more than jokes to get in simon's good graces.

twins skylar and naomi who spend most of their time by each others side looting and fighting and begrudgingly covering each others asses. but they wouldn't have it any other way.

#art #oc #original character #national siblings day #ocs #character design #small artist #haramitsu #tatsuo #ian #amber #audrey #nathan #zack #meghan #crystal #morgan #simon #skylar #naomi

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toomanybandstocare · 1 year

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{Caring Hands}

Program: After months of heartbreak and worry, your roommate takes you out for a night to your old stomping grounds- 79s. A bar that used to hold such fond memories of spending blurry night with your friends of the 501st legion by the side of your riduur, Rex. tonight, it seems the magnetic pull between the two of you is determined to bring you together for one last chance.

Pairing: Ex! Rex x Ex, GN! Reader

Side Pairing: Fives x OC! Kiva

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Second Chances

Length: 3956w

Warnings: Pet names (Lover, Cya're, Cyar'ika, Riduur), Drinking to the point of being tipsy/drunk, Heartbreak, Swears, Barely edited

Captain's Notes: Hi guys!!!! It's been awhile. Life has been a force (hehe, no pun intended), but I've been really enjoying my rewatch of the Clones Wars series. And I am simply in love with so many of the clones/boys. They make my heart very happy and fuzzy. It's been nice to revisit one of my favorite shows from my childhood, and the fact that Rex is still my favorite character (other than Ahsoka) makes me feel happy and at home.

Camp Resolute's Masterlist

Camper Tags: @staygoldwriting

The soft green and muted yellow lighting envelop you in an intimate atmosphere of buzzing excitement. Music thrums through the air as the 79s’ clientele swirl around the dance floor or wrap themselves around this evening’s partners in booths. As the war invades every nook and corner of the galaxy, the GAR’s unofficial bar offers its services for wayward individuals who look for a semblance of normalcy. A chance to forget the lingering, stale breath of unknown destruction breathing down everyone’s necks. Time stands still at the mercy of drunk shouts of excitement.

“You know,” Kiva drawls as he drags his cocktail’s straw across his lower lip, “going out to bars and clubs is more interesting if you actually speak to people”. His deep, teasing chuckle shudders through you more than the deafening bass.

“You know,” you hum as the tingling sensation of your fifth drink courses through your veins, “going out to bars and clubs is more interesting when you aren’t surrounded by your ex's brothers. Who happen to share extremely similar physical features”. Your voice drips with whiskey and venom.

Leaning onto your white knuckled fist, you down the last few sips of your liquor unable to pull your eyes away from the booth in the alcove corner just past the bar. The unmistakable colors of the 501st and 212th battalions flash under the pulsing lights as troopers recline in the booth or lean over the seat backings to join in on the conversation. Your attention flitted between your roommate and the CO table when the two of you sat yourselves at the bar at the beginning of the night. When you caught sight of hidden smirk and mischievous glint in his amber eyes, you ordered the first round of shots. Your eyes stung from neon lights that lit up the bar area of the tenders to see their work and as you watched Rex pull the beautiful Twi’lek close to his side. His hands palmed her soft curves and pulled her as close as possible. Bile rose up and bit the back of your throat as you threw back another drink.

As alcoholic cloudiness eases into your system, a sigh pushes past your lips and you turn your gaze to Kiva. His dark eyes look past you as a small half smile grows on face. Blinking at him, you follow his gaze. Leaning against the section divider of the CO table, Fives animatedly speaks to a friend from a different battalion whose armor is decorated in a scratched gray paint.

“You know,” your voice light and airy with its teasing melody, “going out to bars is more interesting if you go speak to people”. You jab your elbow into his arm and signal to the bartender for another drink.

“I’m not going to leave you here, heartbroken and drunk,” his tentacle tresses bounce around as he shakes his head, “Especially, alone. It’s a remarkable phenomena that you’re still able to form a coherent thought at the rate you're consuming spotchka shots”. Taking a sip of his drink, Kiva eyes you, “Besides, I don’t even know him”.

A bubbling giddiness washes through you as you look from Kiva to Fives to your fresh drink in front of you. Tracing a slightly trembling finger around the glass, you take a deep breath. Just because your trooper romance didn’t end how you had hoped doesn’t mean the same will happen for Kiva. Especially if he’s interested in sweet Fives.

“His name is Fives- CT-27-5555, if you want to get technical. But, only his twin is allowed to call him that, so don’t even think about it until he says you can use it” your voice is warm and quiet. It drips with whiskey and sweetens the soft smile you share with Kiva. His shocked expression causes a flurry of giggles from your lips. “He’s an ARC Trooper in the 501st. Too charming for his own good, but he knows exactly what to say at any moment,” you share as you watch Kiva’s lovestruck expression fall back onto your former friend. Taking a slow sip of your drink, a wave of conflicting emotions tumble through you. If you stepped one foot too close to that booth, all eyes would be on you. As much as you wanted to help Kiva, you knew that the night would only end abruptly if you inserted yourself back into the group.

“Doesn’t mean he’s into guys though,” Kiva nervously deflects with a wave of his hand and the last sip of his cocktail.

“Every time I would run into him, he would find a way to ask about you. I don’t think we’ve had a conversation that didn’t somehow include your name since he met you at Hellkai’s birthday party,” you carefully use the leg closest to him to start pushing him off the barstool.

“Wha-what,” Kiva stammers as he slightly stumbles out of his seat.

Before he can protest, you throw both your feet on top of the stool and cross your legs. “I’ll be here when you’re ready to leave. Either with me, or with Fives. Just let me know, and I’ll crash a couch somewhere. Now go have an interesting night,” you exclaim and shove him in the direction of the clones.

With every step Kiva took, the fleeting feeling of happiness seeped out of you. Although you see the nerves bouncing in Kiva as he weaved his way through the mass of tipsy dancers, you know he’ll be in caring hands. When he clears past most of the crowd, you see Fives stand up a little straighter and beam past the other trooper’s shoulder. Like a missing piece of the picture, Kiva finds his place next to Fives. A twist in your stomach tingles as he rests a hand on the back of Fives’ neck. With ease, Fives rests his hand on the small of Kiva’s back, and the tingles flame inside you. When their gazes meet, the coil snaps in you and you tear your stinging eyes away from the touching scene. Good for them. They both deserve happiness.

“You alright there, mesh’la?” a gentle hand rests on your shoulder. With a jolt, you snap your head and are met with a concerned clone. Your breathing becomes heavy as you open your mouth to send him away, but the sight of scratched blue armor with a medic symbol on the shoulder causes your throat to constrict.

“Hey, hey,” Kix slides closer to you and rests his other hand on your cheek, “It’s okay. Just too much to drink tonight, huh? How about some water then? Wait, you- you look familiar.”

“I’m fine,” you croak out and swing your body away from his caring hands to face the bar. You keep your shaking hands around your whiskey glass and watch the iceball water down your only ally in the bar.

“Wait a minute,” his timber voice hummed closer as he slid into the now open stool, “It is you. What- what are you doing here?”

“Don’t worry, Kix. I’m not here to ruin anyone’s fun. Just trying to have my own,” you bitterly chuckle.

“That’s not what I meant,” Kix rests an arm on the bartop and shifts his body closer into your personal space. His usually soft eyes flood with concern as he takes in your appearance. “I- we haven’t seen you in months, mesh’la. Thought you moved planets- kriff, even to a different system. Rex wouldn’t let up any info, so we all thought it was an emergency”.

You’re barely able to keep the choked sob locked behind your grimace as your heart pounds in your throat. The truth trying to break past your loyal lips. Shrugging, you keep your eyes locked on the flowing lights that twinkle behind all the glass bottles. The cold synthetic material of your glass balances on your lip before you throw it back.

“Enough,” Kix hisses and grabs your wrist to pull the cup away. His look of disbelief causes a twinge of guilt to register in your haze.

“Come one, mesh’la. Let’s get you home,” Kix carefully wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you up.

Panic stabbing into your skin, you throw some credits onto the bar and try to drag your feet to stop him. “Kix, what are you doing?” you hiss.

“Making sure nothing bad happens to you. Why were you alone over there? You must have seen us in our usual spot,” Kix looks at you in confusion as the two of you work your way through the throng of dancing bar goers.

“Because,” you try to quickly clear the situation before you are recognized by any other clones, “there’s a reason that Rex didn’t want to talk about me”.

You try to wriggle out of Kix’s hold once you see Kiva and Fives wrapped in each other’s arms. “Seriously, Kix. Leave it alone. You’re doing more harm than good,” you practically beg.

“What are you talking about? Look, even if you and Rex are in a bit of a tricky spot, I can guarantee that you’re his endgame. The man won’t stop talking about you,” Kix sends a genuine smile your way and rubs his thumb in soothing circles on your side.

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Fives calls both of you over. Kiva straightens up in Fives’ embrace as he watches the two of you walk towards the booth.

You frantically shake your head and try to think of a plausible excuse to get out of this. What was once your safe haven for nights out now spits you deep into enemy territory.

“I thought I said to keep it easy on the drinks,” Kiva chuckles uncomfortably and moves to your other side, “Time to go home, huh?” Slipping his arm around your waist above Kix’s own, Kiva turns to say something to Fives.

“Wait, no. Do you have to,” Fives castes the two of you a sad look. “I didn’t even know you were plantside, and now you try to scurry out in a rush? That’s just rude,” Fives jokes.

“Come join us, mesh’la,” Kix coaxes you, “All the guys have missed you and would be thrilled to catch up. We’ll just get some sodas for the rest of the night”.

“You’re joking. No way in haran that me and Jesse are letting you go home before we start the games,” Fives reaches for your hand as you shake your head so hard, it nearly causes you to tumble over.

“Fives, cya’re, it’s time we go home. This one can’t even stand on their feet,” Kiva tries again and successfully makes one step closer to the exit. Which is one step closer towards Fives and the entrance to the CO booth.

“Cyar’ika, let’s get them in a seat then,” Fives leans into Kiva’s chest to whisper something in his ear. You feel the excited tremble on Kiva's side and another wave of guilt washes over you.

“Guys, come one. I’m fine. Definitely not my worst night out, so I can get home with no issue. Kiva, why don’t you stay here,” you pull away from the group and notice the growing number of glances you’re all attracting.

“Why are you trying to run from us? I thought we were your friends,” Kix’s voice is dry with confusion and hurt.

“We can hang out another time. I promise. I’m just tired. You said it yourself, I’ve had enough for tonight,” you frantically try to deescalate the growing unease in the area as you sway and twist through the crowd.

Not even caring about bumping into other patrons, you focus your attention away from the twisted expression on Kix’s face and the shouts of recognition from the CO table.

You use your elbows to move others out of your way, but the dull, plastoid armor does nothing but bite back at you. Blaster boots and high heels trip you as you lose yourself in the crowd once more. Your heart jumps in time with the rhythm of the song blaring. Sweat sits heavy on your skin as you break free and try to find sight of the exit.

Hallow pants wrack your body from the close proximity of other patrons, but you find the neon blue exit sign for the door. Taking the first step, you continue your trek to fresh air as you narrowly push past another clone and jostle the drink in his hand.

“Watch it,” the gruff voice mumbles.

Two words in a bitter tone are all that cause your blazing body to turn ice cold. He’s supposed to be up in the booth.

“Sorry,” you breathe out.

With a weary look from the corner of his eye, the clone’s stoic expression is broken by shocked realization. “Cyar’ika,” Rex’s voice rumbles.

“I’m just on my way out, so don’t worry about holding back. Okay? It’s all good. Have fun tonight,” you mutter breathlessly and sway a step forward.

“Hey,” Rex gently demands your attention. He twists his body to face you completely and holds out his free arm to catch you from falling.

“Are you-,” Rex looks at you with tense, uncomfortable eyes, “Are you okay? You look-”.

“You don’t get to ask that anymore,” you growl behind gritted teeth. Pushing his arm out of your way, you continue your trek to the exit. You are so close. Just a few more bodies to get past.

“Wait a minute- kriff,” Rex exclaims and gently grasps your arm.

“Stop it,” you hiss, “You’re going to make a scene. Just let me go. Let me go, again.” The final word sits heavy in the air, and Rex’s grip tightens around you for a moment.

“Take this,” Rex mutters, “I’m walking this one home. Too much to drink”. Without a moment to register who he was speaking to, Rex pulls you along to the exit. Not even casting a glance to make sure you could keep up with his determined strides.

Stumbling behind Rex, you can’t find the strength to pull your arm out of his careful hold or tear your glossy eyes away from his figure. With each step closer to the entrance way, you choke back the dry sobs that well inside you. You had hoped that the last time you were with Rex in the 79s that it would be a happy memory. Instead, the galaxy decided to throw the two of you together for one last spat.

The cool night time air soothes your burning cheeks. Speeders and cruisers fly past the entry line of rowdy soldiers and excited patrons as they wait for entry. Coruscant’s cityscape lights up the starry night with synthetic warmth from billboard to skyscraper.

“Same place,” Rex asks softly.

Not answering his question, or allowing yourself to meet his pertinent gaze, you feebly pull your arm out of his comforting hand. “Please, stop,” your hollow voice responds.

“Cyar’ika,” Rex says in exasperation, “Come on, you shouldn’t be out like this. Let’s get you back-”.

“Stop,” your hoarse voice pleads as you begin walking back to your apartment. Memories of walking home with Rex after a night out with the 501st should bring you happiness. You didn’t want them to be tainted by the lingering heartbreak of tonight if you could help it.

The racing sounds of nightlife mutffle your hearing, so a stab of fear strikes you when you feel yourself being suddenly tugged into the side alley of 79s.

“Enough,” Rex growls into your ear. He leads both of you out of sight and behind some of the bar’s shipment crates. With careful hands, he lightly pushes you into the wall and stays pressed up in front of you. Just enough room for you to push him away if you really wanted to. Just enough room to intoxicate your senses with only his presence.

Running his hands over his cropped hair, Rex watches you with a glint of frustration in his eyes. “I tried to be nice,” he starts off in a low voice.

“I didn’t fucking ask. I told you I was leaving,” you bite back. Your finger nails dig into the palm of your hand.

“Will you let me speak,” he snaps. His chest plate rising and falling in heavy breaths. “You were the one kicking up a scene in there and out front. What are you doing here?”

“You don’t own this bar, Rex. Anyone can come and enjoy a night out,” you seethe.

“I may not own this bar in a legal sense, but this is the closest place us clones can call home. You know that. Why not some other bar? I told you- we’re done. We had a nice run. But we need split ways,” he rumbles. With each painful word, his face moves closer your own. Hard, amber eyes lock with yours as mixed emotions flash across the surface to show peeks of the soft look of adoration underneath. The musky scent of his cologne mixes with the whiskey on his breath to make you feel dizzy. “That includes where we spend our nights out. Now I’m going to have to bat off Kix and Fives for who knows how long”.

“That’s what you wanted. Not me,” you lash out. His eyes widen slightly at your volume, and you jab his chest plate with your finger before he can regain control of the conversation. “I didn’t want our relationship to end. I didn’t want you to let me go. I didn’t even get a say in the matter. And, I certainly didn’t ask you to be nice”. Your voice steadily grows in volume as your body trembles in anger. “You're a soldier. You made where your loyalty stands, so fucking clear. If this is your choice then you have to own up to the consequences of your actions. So dealing with your squad’s questions -- my fucking friends, who I haven’t see because I for some fucking reason respected your request for space -- about why I haven’t been around or why I was so desperate to leave tonight, is your own fucking fault. Kriff, for someone who is haran bent to follow orders and lead by a good example, you’re an awful person”.

Rex takes a step away from you. Hurt melts away his anger, and he looks down at his boots. Fists flexing by his sides.

“This isn’t you,” you quietly sob, “I know you. I know the real Rex. Your boys know you, and they see something’s wrong”. With shaking hands, you softly hold his armored hand in a careful clasp. “Why won’t you let me in? Let me help you. All I have wanted in our relationship is to be by your side and support you”. You take a daring step closer to him, and when he doesn’t pull away, you wrap him in a tight embrace.

The cool plastoid feels grimy to your skin. They couldn’t have been plantside for more than a few hours. Desperate to taste a sense of home and normalcy after the latest dire mission. Tentative hands drag across the fabric of your shirt and press you further into his chest plate.

Rex flexes his fingers to gently pull your body as close as he can with armor still sitting heavy on his shoulders. Pressing his face into the curve of your neck, he breathes you in to try to ground him. It’s always been you. Your face is the first image that would grace his vision when he closes his eyes each night. Memories of small acts of love keeps him grounded when news of a lost brother is announced. The echo of your laugh overpowers the crashing bomb shells on the battleground. No matter where in the galaxy he travels to, Rex can only think about you and how you have cared for him. He couldn’t risk that being taken away from him. He couldn’t risk anyone trying to use a GAR officer’s riduur as leverage.

“Enough,” Rex’s broken voice pleads into the crook of your neck. He closes his watery eyes and pulls you closer when you tenderly trail your finger across his back plate. Even with GAR issued armor and regulation protection, Rex knows your caring hands will be his downfall.

“Rex,” you gasp in his ear. Your voice light like the cool breeze that causes both of you to shiver. “Rex, I-”.

“Don’t,” he begs, “Don’t say it”. He drags his nose across the column of your neck, and both of you feel slight dampness where your bodies connect. Placing a gentle kiss in the dip of your neck, Rex shakes his head and pleads, “Cyar’ika, if you finish that sentence I will never be able to walk away from you. Not even when I’m called back to base for training or briefings. Especially, not when I know I face death like a familiar acquaintance everyday”.

“But, you didn’t face death today,” you hold him closer. The two of you are trying to mold into each other. Either to rekindle a lingering flame or to imprint a final memory of each other’s body to forever remember. “You face your lover today. Your lover who only asks one thing of you”.

Rex shudders a pained breath that sweeps across your skin. His lips trail everywhere as he can’t find the strength to pull himself away from your hold. “I can’t stay, cyar’ika. And, I can’t put you through the constant pain of not knowing if I’m alive,” his words break with a sob. “I’m trying to protect you. I don’t get to make many choices for myself or my life, but I have the choice to protect you. I will always choose you, your safety, and your happiness over my own. My runi is tied to yours, and I am bound to you for darasuum”. Overwhelmed by emotions, Rex moves his head to lean his forehead against yours. Tears freely stream down his face as he bares himself in front of you.

“You are my happiness, riduur,” your gentle affirmation is met by a pained whimper. “Without you, I am nothing but a body. My runi is tied to yours, and I am bound to you for darasuum. Come home, lover”.

“I don’t want to keep hurting you,” Rex whispers. His amber eyes glisten as he watches your own eyes trickle with tears.

“Then come home where you belong. By my side. I don’t ask you to give up your brothers or stay away from the battlefield. Let me know that when you come planetside on leave, that you’ll come home to me and let me care for you”.

Unable to tell where one body starts and the other meets, the two of you keep each other in a searing embrace. Tears stream together as you press closer to his face. Nose bumps cause choked chuckles to fall. Heavy breaths fan across chapped lips just millimeters away from meeting in the middle.

“Please,” your soft plea ghosts over his mouth. Your invitation tastes of home cooked meals and warm caf in the morning.

“Always, cyar’ika. I will do everything in my power to come home to you,” Rex promises and places a gentle kiss on your growing smile, “I’m so sorry I left you, riddur”.

One hand slips just underneath the hem of your shirt to feel the familiar planes of your body as Rex rests his other hand on the nape of your neck. Unable to fight against the force pulling the two of you together, Rex dips down and presses a chaste kiss to your beaming smile. Another falls soon after, slightly longer as he traces the curve of your bottom lip with his tongue. And another when you look at him in adoration that pulls a soft sigh. A new sound to allow himself to reimagine when he misses you. Ready to come home to caring hands.

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captainstarcruiser · 3 days

Text

Vanguard Guardian OC Description

Name: Crimson-9

Nicknames: Crimson, Crim, Red, 9, or (Gambit title) Red Dot.

Pronouns: He/Him

Class: Exo Hunter

Subclass: Solar/Golden Gun and Stasis/Silence and Squall

Ghost: Bun.3 (pronounced Bunny) her shell is the Year of the Rabbit Shell.

Revival spot: EDZ Forest

Age: 25 (29 after revival)

Personal Trinket: MP4 made with salvaged Golden Age technology and these enemies: Fallen, Cabal, Vex.

Preferred Tools of Trade:

Häkke Brand

Suros Brand

Heliocentric QSc

Ammit AR2

Breakneck

Come to Pass

Coronach-22

IKELOS_HC_v1.0.3

IKELOS_SR_v1.0.3

IKELOS_SMG_v1.0.3

Herod-C

Albruna-D

Crux Termination IV

Tarnation

Hullabaloo

Half-Truth

The Other Half.

Exotic Favorites:

Sunshot

Borealis

Suros Regime

Forerunner

Monte Carlo

Ace of Spades

Hardlight

Polaris Lance

Quicksilver Storm.

Bio: Known as the Exo Hunter Crimson-9, he spent time with Cayde-6 on and off the field in order to learn his tricks and skills for the field. He usually sticks to the Hunter groups due to sharing more in common with them. From time to time he works with other classes when he's looking to make quick glimmer or resources for his purchases.

He enjoys music and food more than any exotic he's gathered.

Especially from a hole in the wall diner in the city run by an Exo and Awoken couple, known popularly as The Grease Bucket. They make the thickest, greasiest, and tastiest burgers and chili-cheese fries in the whole city.

As for Crim's taste in music, he has a collection that spreads down to the oldest traces of music, before the Traveler and Golden Age. He loves old school jazz, death metal, dubstep, and for his usual meditation sessions: Japanese Hot Spring Music.

Crimson-9 has a troubled past, involving the Red War and his time being lightless. Eventually his team ended up leaving him behind during a raid on the moon in the Hive sector. His only way to cope with the memory is his music, and meditation.

He hates Hive, with a seething passion. Anything that resembles the Hive, causes his mood to sour. Once he leapt onto a giant Hive Knight Boss and stabbed it in the head over and over till it fell, just because his team took too long to kill it.

The time he spent wandering the Hive zones after his fireteam abandoned him caused him to have nightmares of his time down there. Some nights it's just him being chased by cursed thrall, but the worst is when a curse of Hive decay slowly overtakes his body. He picks at and cracks off all the growing decay till he sees his face fall apart into a hideous ugly screaming thrall.

His likes:

The Grease Bucket

Modded MP4

Music

Pet Ginger Cat named Amber

Dancing

Meditation

Side Arms

Hand Cannons

Spending time with people

Drawing citizens of the Last City

Video Games

His Ship: Mayfly

Collecting every shader he can find

Collecting Gemstones

Collecting Sparrows and Skimmers.

His dislikes:

Hive

Bugs

Spicy and Bitter Stuff

Screams of Pain

Wasting Resources

Arc attacks

Raw Tomatoes

He had a strong silent type of demeanor, usually because he is listening to his music or focused on the battle. He'll open up if you offer food, a clone of your music for his collection, and his favorite drink at the Glimmer Glint Bar, which is a Sweet Wish Stasis, named after a famous Hunter who used Ahamkara-Stasis based weapons on their battles.

He had a secret nerdy when he's happy and philosophical side when he feels melancholy about the entire situation of the Earth.

If you talk to him about cats, music, food, weapons, or animals then he's ready to talk your ear off.

He's Pansexual, and a very tender lover. He knows which buttons to press, and loves seeing his partners reactions. From a cute moan to a squeal, it makes him feel warm when he hears his partner is being satisfied. If you treat him well, show some interest, and try to keep in contact often he'll stay loyal regardless of class or rank.

The only challenge you'll have when around him, is not dying from how critical Bun.3 gets when he's being himself.

#destiny #destiny 2 #exo #hunter #crimson-9 #Bun.3 #oc

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playername-player-of-games · 5 months

Note

hey who's Atmos (totally not Korky)

atmos is half an oc and half a self insert! in short: he's one of King Joel of Mezalea's terracotta clones that was given sentience during the rapture/end of the world, and is now a Player who has to deal with the consequences of being alive! he has no idea how to deal with this and also has a lot of trauma!! yippee !!

in long:

Name: Atmos Cupid Phere

Age: a little messy tbh? however old joel was during esmp s1, but also as old as a terracotta clone and also as old as me so he doesn't exactly. have an age i guess idk. maybe 20 something.

Gender: terracotta (masc nonbinary? idk) - he/it/they

Species: Human/Moth hybrid, specifically a Golden Sun Moth!

Appearance: before he gains sentience: he looks like joel. After he gains sentience though, he looks more like himself! rounder features, unkempt brown hair with one golden streak through it (like joel's green stripe except it's gold) - he's got lots and lots of freckles all over, his eyes are brown with bits of gold. He wears amber-colored goggles, mostly on his head but sometimes over his eyes. clothes are a generic black sleeveless turtleneck with a brown bomber jacket overtop. tan-ish cargo pants with a lot of pockets. brown boots.

He's a golden sun moth- his wings fit through slits in his jacket. His antenna are long, thin, and black. He's like 5'4 (162.5 ish cm tall)

Personality: a mix of extremely petty and the most anxious man you've ever met in your life. constantly looking for ways to stay on someone's "good side" and is genuinely shocked when people dislike him. fairly sarcastic but you can never tell if it's on purpose or if he's having an Autism Moment (tm). He does like. "idle animations" or just certain things he loops back on. could be stimming, could be a tic, could be ocd, could be a mix of all 3 or something else entirely.

but he's also been an npc his entire life up until now - when he's triggered he returns to his natural state of "help and be helpful" and loses his words except for maybe a handful of phrases that all sound like typical NPC dialogue - ("how can i help?" "shipment's all packed!" "will that be everything?" "thank you for choosing [Joel's Mezalean Terracotta!]")

Backstory: He was one of Joel's terracotta clones- specifically one of the ones that worked for Joel's Mezalean Terracotta, first as a miner and then as a delivery guy. He was a clone up until the rapture, when he just sorta. blinks. and then he's here, in a world that's falling apart, and after a moment of indescribable panic, he instinctively opens a menu and leaves the world, and because he isn't whitelisted he can never, ever go back.

He doesn't remember being alive before this. Literally his first memories are of a world falling apart, and he has no idea how to handle that.

He's a player now. Everything he does has meaning and actually affects the world.

(both of these things are super jarring and have, unfortunately, given him massive amounts of trauma)

If he was in 4th life:

this is the first world he's been in since empires. (unfortunately it's another world that is very much going to fall apart.)

he's happy to make allies and friends and is actually friendly with a good chunk of the server, but he's sort of keeping everyone at an arm's length. (he doesn't know what to do with other players. he's never been one. he isn't used to being treated like he's human and it's really weird)

he set up shop in a place that's easy to access. "Atmos Phere's Mail Room and Pawn Shop", he calls it. Come with letters or gifts and he'll deliver your mail by next session at the latest.

Ever the terracotta clone, he trades mostly stacks of mined out blocks- things like stone, cobble, the decorative stones, deepslate- you can trade a stack for a stack, a piece of iron for half a stack, etc. He has some helpful items, like spare tools and armor, and some not so helpful items, like glow squid ink and buckets of tropical fish

he was terracotta on empires, but he isn't anymore. he's human now, and a different moth species from king joel (joel is a luna moth. this is a personal headcanon sjdfkl - idk why he'd be a moth without that headcanon. moths are cool idk)

Everything he needs is in his base. He doesn't need to leave, but he does. And he regrets it every time.

Despite the petal-soft wings on his back, he doesn't actually know how to fly, so they aren't clipped, or bound. he doesn't learn how to fly in this world. he doesn't know if he ever will.

His entire character arc is about learning how to be human. Learning to love, learning to trust. And it's ripped out from under him when the world falls apart all over again.

he also has an oc playlist on spotify that i am currently trying to put in some kind of coherent story order but a few of the songs are pure vibes and idk where to put them lol

that's my boy !! he would have been very fun in 4th life and i am currently rotating concepts very fast in my head <3

also ! if you haven't seen empires/have no idea what i'm talking about when it comes to empires, this previous infodump about atmos goes a little more into detail about that part :3

#oc atmos phere #asks #gently sets him in front of you. for your consideration. i hope u like him

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perfectlyboring · 2 years

Text

Struggle For Light (Anakin Skywalker x fem!oc)

pairing: Anakin Skywalker x younger! fem!oc

summary: soulmate au that takes place some point after order 66, Anakin isn’t burnt though! Just a drab I did about my Star Wars oc getting Ani to come back to the light. Super angsty and fluffy.

warnings: angst (force restriction, pining, heartbreak lmao), light injury to oc, kidnap, nothing too specific

word count: 4.25k

A/N: I’ve never posted my writing before so please go easy on me!! I wrote this a while ago but I’m kinda proud of it. I know it’s not exactly canon but I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

•••

Rori couldn't suppress the quaking tremble that rocked her nerves in the presence of the all powerful Sith. From her place on the floor, the cold plated ground burned into her knees. The invisible force around her body constricted, pinning her movements harshly.

"Ah. We finally meet, young one." Darth Sidious hissed. His glowing amber eyes burned holes into her flesh, and it took everything in her not to flinch. Her eyes flickered to the looming dark figure standing just beside him.

Anakin.

No, not anymore. But she knew there was something of his former self buried within him, she could feel his light, clawing at his cage of suffering to be free.

Their eyes met, and she searched out the light in his eyes. However, she couldn't feel him.

A cold, biting frost curled inside her and for a moment, she wondered if her soulmate would never truly come back to the light.

"I've scoured the Galaxy looking for you. The last puzzle piece required to finally—" He placed a shriveled hand on Vader's shoulder. Though it wasn't comforting—it was claiming. Vader was his pawn, his puppet for dark bidding. "..cleanse the weakness from my apprentice."

He stalked forward then, and Rori forced herself to follow his movements, refusing to bow to his will, albeit it suffocating.

"And now that you're here, your fate is sealed. By taking your life, my apprentice will finally be free of his conflict, and free to rise up and rule on the Throne of the Sith." His words slithered across her skin, stroking the hard to swallow sinking feeling inside her. "That is—unless, you bow to the power of the Dark Side. Pledge your allegiance to your overlords, and I might have him spare your life."

There it was. An offer. A way out.

Still, there was a roaring beast inside of her that could never allow herself to turn in the way that they had. A single line of purpose drew her eyes back to her soulmate, before she angrily flickered her gaze up at the Sith.

"Whatever you have to offer me—I don't want it. I will never bow to you." She managed to keep her voice steady, her soft features set in determination, her jaw set.

"Such fire you have." He hissed, presence circling around her. Testing. "Such potential for greatness. That anger inside of you—it could give you so much power."

Rori winced at his words.

"Ah, I see." He spoke. "Conflict, yes. But there's more—your feelings drive your will." He paused, coming to stand above her appraisingly. She felt an aggressive tug at the front of her mind as his clawed hand rose to her head.

She gasped in pain at the sharp intrusion, blinded by the shuffling and peeling away at her mind.

"There it is." He grunted. "Pain. Suffering. And..rejection. Abandonment. Your family is gone, your very fate balanced in the hands of my apprentice himself. You only have one option—allow yourself to indulge on those powerful emotions."

She managed to open her eyes, immediately locking onto Vader's. Though his eyes glowed russet, she searched for him anyways. He was in there. Somewhere buried in his own self-isolation was Anakin, the hero from the Clone Wars she'd always heard about. A boy so powerful in the light that he became a hero.

Sidious hissed then, a wheeze of disgust.

"Compassion." He growled out the word. "Is weak. It is easily squashed in the face of true power."

"I won't give in, Sidious. Your attempts to manipulate me as you have done with Anakin won't work." Rori heaved with the force of his prying at her brain.

She felt her breathing echo in her ears as she struggled to find the defining thread of calm in her mind. When she felt it, she grabbed on with both hands and held onto it forcefully. Her ivy green eyes held steady with his own, and with one slight push—she knocked the looming void of darkness further from her head.

The dark lord let out a short gasp of surprise—stepping a foot back from her.

"Confounding." He breathed in a hiss, his eyes burning down at her. "Vader's soulmate is force-sensitive." Though there was an underlying icy chill in his words—he wasn't praising her, no—he was testing her. Eyeing her with intrigue, suspicion—and greed.

She held his gaze, and just she felt his sharp tendrils creep back into her brain—she gathered her energy and quieted her mind to push once more. She felt his hold slip momentarily as he physically slid back another foot.

She was trembling visibly now, the force of her energy untapped and raw. She'd spent her whole life concealing her ability in fear of who might notice the connection.

Well—she guessed the lothcat was out of the bag now.

Sidious seemed to set his shoulders, a snarl echoing from his mouth. She figured that was it—she would likely be slaughtered here in front of them both, left for dead with a saber burn through her chest. Her eyes flashed to Vader again, allowing herself another glance at who her soulmate might've been. She could almost picture it—in another way, another life—she could see herself alongside him at the Old Republic temple of the Jedi, could see his boyish light, his eyes unmarred by darkness.

That was when Sidious let out a sharp cackle of delight that had her snapping her attention back to him.

"Truly remarkable. Your darkness rises, and light comes to meet it. Your abilities, your connection to the Force, it reminds me of the raw strength I once sensed in my young apprentice." One claw rose as he spoke, a dark grin on his pale, scarred face.

"Untapped potential for power. With my guidance, you could lead the Sith from the throne alongside your soulmate. Yes, yes—I see it now. The Galaxy would be forced to their knees in the presence of you both—your dyad in the force is strong—ruling together as one would be much more beneficial to me."

Then, for the first time throughout the confrontation, he turned towards his apprentice. His figure, however, slinked back so he was standing to her side.

"I see a new opportunity for the both of you, Vader. One that will only strengthen your power." He lowered his hand and let one mangled claw scratch against her jaw, lifting it to face Vader again. Rori inhaled sharply at the scrape digging into her soft flesh, her features twisting in a flash of disgust. "This girl is your prophecy. I know you desire her—you cannot hide such an emotion, my apprentice. Your soul aches to intertwine with hers, your force signature longs to claim her as your own. Her beauty is undeniable—" His claws scrape deeper into her jaw, as if presenting her face to his apprentice invitingly. "Her connection to the force mirrors your own, her bravery and rebelliousness are cunning."

His grip digs into her skin, making her stifle a whimper of pain. Her heart thrumming in her chest, her arms still struggling to break free of the invisible binds that held her down.

"Rise and claim her, Vader. Fuse your power with her own, and you will be unstoppable, unbeatable. And if you will not—then you will rise, and you will kill her. You will consume her life force, and all the raw power she holds will be yours." He barked.

She felt a sizzling electric current slither into her body, a sting of electricity that curled into her bones. All attention turned to Vader in that moment. Though he wasn't looking at her, he was looking at Sidious.

She couldn't help but allow her signature to brush against his own, seeking any sort of give in his coldness. He couldn't accept his Master's sinister plan—it would only bring darkness, pain, suffering. And she knew he had his fair share of those things already. If he accepted—then his soul was truly lost.

Her Anakin wouldn't exist any longer. Her once beautiful, shining beacon of a man who was once loved, once grounded by compassion and honor, would be finally reduced to nothing but a lost, isolated husk of the boy he once was.

And Rori would rather he strike her down with the burning heat of his saber and bleed out on the floor than witness the remnants of his light be snuffed out. And she would sooner drive the saber into her own heart than agree to rule beside him.

It was then that his flickering gaze met hers. She felt something stir within her—she felt his own signature weakly give way to her own prodding, golden bright energy. She struggled to not reveal the shock it gave her. She allowed it to bloom into her own—that was when she was racked with the intensity of his emotions—suffering, guilt, anger, longing.

And she knew it wasn't Vader's signature she was feeling—it was his.

Anakin's. The Chosen One, the hero, the one who she would have fallen madly in love with if they had met before he became suffocated be fear and anguish. The one whose soul was crafted by the force to perfectly mold with her own.

Then, he spoke.

"I will..." His resounding footsteps moved infinitesimally closer. "..claim her, Master. I was blind to her force capabilities—but now I see what I must do." His voice wracked a tremor down her spine.

She held his gaze as he slowly approached. She felt a twinge of fear bubble in her throat. His words said something different than his heart—and now she would finally see what side would win.

"The choice is yours, my apprentice. Either way..her power is yours for the taking." Sidious urged.

Her clear, sea glass eyes burned into his own. A part of her pleading—for what, she didn't know. Maybe it was to just end it for her, to save her from a life of corruption and evil. Or maybe it was to save her, save them both, somehow.

His gloved hand clenched around the hilt of his saber—and in one flash of carmine red, she felt the heat and sizzle as it ignited, heard the hum it exuded in the grand room swallowed in silence.

Though her heart now jammed uncontrollably against her chest, her mouth drying as it felt like she was swallowing hot sand—she kept her eyes trained steadily on his.

Come back to me, Anakin. Be with me.

The words pressed from her mind, and somehow, she knew they pressed directly into his. He stood before her now, looming over her like an Angel of death. If she was to die like this, at least his face would be the last thing she would see.

"Wise choice, my young apprentice." Sidious croaked from the sidelines, and she barely noticed his claws had unlatched from her skin as he floated to stand beside the display in front of him. "Strike her down, now! Set yourself free from the weakness of the Light. There will be no mortal coil strong enough to hold you back any longer—soon you will be free to bathe in true power!"

Rori breathed in, feeling a sense of calm wash over her mind as she pulled herself tighter to the Force, the burning light within her. She blocked Sidious' voice from her mind, focusing solely on Anakin's presence within the Sith before her. She kept it close to her own signature, refusing to let it weaken and bury itself back into the suffocating fog of darkness that had rooted into him. She grasped the swirling tendrils of Light with her full force, curling her own into it and tugging it up, up and up.

"Do it, Vader! Do it now!" Sidious thundered, though it seemed so far away to her ears. "Kill the final restraint to your darkness, snuff out the last of your weakness—fulfill your prophecy!"

Rori struggled with the tremors racking her nerves, struggled against the choking shadows that burned against her own signature as she dug deeper into his. Her total strength was pouring through their bond now, allowing her molten glowing Light to fully link to his own. Her bones trembled with the strength it took her to do so, as if her body was physically fighting.

Be with me, Anakin.

I know you. I feel you.

You're not lost. Not to me.

Their gazes swallowed each other whole—it was all consuming. She knew he could hear her, but his face failed to reveal any sign. His eyes though—his burning Sith eyes—for just a moment—flickered in recognition.

She felt her incessant tugging finally give way—his scalding Light shone through like a beacon amongst the night sky. It immediately sought her own—curling it's tendrils almost shyly towards her calming presence—before rolling like a freighter right into her inviting warmth.

It was then that she became aware that there was no longer any invisible binds locked tight around her arms. The icy chill of restraint had long since lifted.

She rolled her wrists behind her back in relief, though she knew better than to reveal her renewed mobility. Something in his gaze reflected that battle raging between their signatures—it was as if the armor had been reduced to ash, burnt and melted away by her incessant, flickering flame. She only sensed vindication now—he had decided. And though her heart fluttered in her throat and her body warmed at the feeling of his final give— flooded her with relief as two halves swirled into each other, reunited at last—she knew she had to allow him to take the final step.

And so, she allowed herself to engulf him fully, knowing that he would be able to read her just as easily. She blanketed him with her Light, her forgiveness, her very being——and with the first spark of their shared flame, she knew whatever he did next was his own choice. Anakin's—not Vader's.

As his arm lifted the humming saber up and over his head, his eyes flickered in the hazy red light reflected in them. And she swore, for a moment, the golden color shifted to an electrifying azure blue. The saber disappeared behind the vast expanse of his darkened figure as he prepared to strike a final blow—

Determination steeled his gaze into hers—but it was not the murderous gaze of a Sith—instead, it reflected the rising spirit of Light—of a Jedi who had conviction in himself and his connection to the Force. A connection to the Light.

Then she felt the cold hilt of his saber materialize into her open palms behind her back. An imperceptible nod from him told her that it was now time to end this suffering.

"Strike her! Do it now!" Sidious roared.

And in that moment—Aurora gripped the metal in her hands tightly, rose up from her aching legs, and ignited the burning red saber. With Sidious' attention on Anakin—she swiftly arced the blade straight into his back, spearing him right through the chest.

His cry of surprise and agony gurgled in his throat, but not before his face curled into a monstrous snarl at the betrayal.

Before she could sense it, his hand shot out and a blast of energy lifted her into the air and flung her all the way until she was crashing painfully into the pillar of the throne.

"You dare betray me?!" His words boomed, shaking the floor she was slumped against. A pain rattled through her skull, echoing in an ache that spread throughout her body.

Through hazy eyes, she watched as Sidious staggered from the blow, face seized in fury towards Anakin.

"You're weak! I always knew it to be true! Pathetic little Skywalker—" He hissed out, though she could sense his scramble to gain control as the life force faded from his body. "I am what gave you such power! You're nothing without me! You have nothing without me—"

His clawed hand shot out, attempting to pull the saber into his own grip at the same time that Anakin did the same. The glinting saber rattled at the force exerted on it, refusing to give in either direction.

"You're blinded by your weakness, Vader! You've always been weak—you've always been afflicted by your compassion! Blinded by your pathetic need to protect—yet you didn't have the strength to kill that wife of yours, and you continue to fail in killing Kenobi!" Sidious wheezed.

In an instant—the saber had flung itself right into the Sith Lord's shriveled hand.

Anakin glowered at his former Master—his outstretched hand falling slack as the words echoed around the room.

"You told me I killed her." His voice was low, thick with rolling anger. Rori could sense it though—the slight tremble in his nerves.

Sidious grinned something dark.

"I did, didn't I?"

Then, before her eyes could blink, the two lunged at each other. Anakin pushed his hand out as a snarl reminiscent of Vader curled onto his face, causing the Sith to slide back. He was quickly onto his feet for someone with a saber burn sliced clean through them—igniting the saber just in time to swing it at Anakin's offensive.

It was a swirl of black cloaks as the two grunted, gnashed their teeth, struggling for the saber hilt. It flung back forth between the former Master and Apprentice—each one not sparing a single moment to slash a killing blow.

Rori found herself flinching every time it seemed like Sidious had gained the upper hand—only to witness Anakin deftly evade the masterful saber technique. A burst if lightening tinged the edges of her vision white—crackling against the heat of the saber as Anakin blocked it.

Another blast of lightening bolted from the Sith's outstretched, clawed fingers. This time, it was powerful enough to blast the saber out of Anakin's grip, grunting as the jolt burned his flesh.

Rori, who had been sluggishly following the fight through heavy eyes, had been waiting for an opportunity to help somehow. Though, the pounding in her skull prevented her from pushing herself to stand, the hot spill of what she knew to be blood streaming down her cheek.

As Anakin briefly bounced back from the burn—Sidious' hand reached for the saber as it flew high into the air.

But Rori was faster.

With one hand outstretched, she bit down on her lip harshly to suppress the grunt of pain at the exertion she needed—and she was rewarded by the saber twisting in the air at her command. With the kyber blade still ignited, she held it suspended for a moment as she called out to him.

"Anakin!" She cried—pushing as much of her Force energy through their bond, getting his attention all within a panicked moment.

She swung her hand with the last of her strength, causing the ignited saber to hurdle straight towards Anakin's already waiting hand.

Sidious had barely a moment to acknowledge their coordinated attack—that angry snarl ripping through his gnashing teeth at the realization that the girl managed to prevail, that she was faster.

And in a blink of an eye, Anakin had gripped his saber back into his hands. With one last twist, one more swirl of his red saber, struck Sidious one last time, effectively cutting off his next words.

Silence filled the throne room as she watched—with a sickening flop! as Sidious' head rolled off his shoulders and rolled with a sizzle onto the floor.

Her body was frozen solid as she stared at the mangled body of what was once Vader's Master. Whatever came next, she could at least be assured the Sith Master's reign of evil had come to an end. She only hoped that by breaking the bond of darkness from his mind that Anakin would be free—though she wasn't sure if there was anything left within him—she wasn't sure if he would flip and strike her down as well, or if he would fall to the floor in anguish, in a further entrapment of misery and suffering.

So, when she huffed out a small gasp of pain, she was not expecting the thundering sound of heavy black boots that approached her. And she also didn't expect to see him kneel in front of her, to meet his gaze as her eyes fluttered in a wince. What she saw froze her all over again—

His eyes, now a burning azure. Like the waves of the Grandaan ocean she spent her summers frolicking in as a youngling. And they were so close now, his looming height level with her own as his burning gaze flickered across her form. He didn't seem to know what to do, with his body or his mind. But he had come to her side, and that was what mattered.

"Anakin." She murmured softly, like a brush of wind. It was an acknowledgement—a recognition of who now crouched before her. And although her head pounded, threatening to force her lids closed, she couldn't take her eyes off of him. The hand that wasn't holding the injured, angry bloom of pain across her temple and forehead reached out. Not hesitantly, but with determination.

Her small fingers gently skimmed the skin of his cheek, allowing herself this one simple pleasure. A hum of tingles erupted like the electric center of a storm—in the eye of the hurricane, where there was peace and strength.

His head tilted slightly into her touch, and her gently skimming fingers shifted to press the warmth of her palm flush against his cheek. His eyes were deep pools, and they conveyed the gravity of the emotion he was feeling. But she could feel it even more forcefully through the rush of their bond that swirled around them, their signatures humming in delight at finally being unified in the Force. His was strong—though clouded with his flood of emotion—shame, guilt, determination, and concern.

Rori couldn't help the bright smile that tugged at her lips, morphing into a beam that seemed to bring a slight shudder to his heaving form. His eyes drank her in—her gleaming teeth, the soft dimples in her rosy skin, the shining glimmer in her ivy green eyes that could only be the sheer pride that swirled around her.

She was proud of him.

"I'm sorry." His words whistled past his teeth. His thick brows were furrowed in anguish, his features seeming much older than she knew he was. Weighed down by the force of his betrayals, his mistakes.

Her smile fell into something soft, the light refusing to dim.

"You did it, Anakin." She breathed out. "You came back to me. That's what matters." Though, a shooting pain caused her words to falter then.

She winced as she lifted her hand from her head, blinking dazedly at the copious amount of red blood that was leaking down her palm, and now, dripping off her face. With a soft groan, she moved to bring her hand back to the wound. But a hand stopped her, shooting out to tug her wrist away.

His eyes were now set on the gash across her temple, a hard set locking his jaw. He replaced her hand with his own, gently cupping the wound beneath his massive palm. The flicker of pain was there, but she was distracted by the warmth of tingles that the contact brought. Then his eyes fluttered closed, his energy stilling before her. She didn't know what he was doing, but she trusted him. Trusted the spark of light that now flickered inside him.

Her bloodied hand came to rest against the Kevlar sleeve of his forearm, her other hand dropping from his face.

And then she felt it.

A tingle in her skin that sped towards the open wound in her head—it softly urged a life force into her, his life force. She was shocked when the pain began to dim, and the blood began to slow. And then the pain was gone all together—leaving a fully healed patch of skin in the place where her wound had once ached.

His eyes fluttered open then, and she noticed that his other hand had come to rest against her back, holding her slumped form from the floor.

Force healing.

She had thought it was a myth.

And now she could breathe in fully—feel the remnants of his own energy in her veins.

"Stars." She breathed out dazedly, bringing her hand up to tap against the now perfectly smooth patch of flesh.

She met his eyes again, her eyes flickering down to his lips. They were inviting, soft, pink. She blinked back up at him, waiting with baited breath for his next move. He was an unpredictable one—her Anakin. That much she could gather.

And then he was closing the gap between them, and instead of claiming her lips with his own in a searing, burning kiss—his lips gently brushed against her own for a moment. The flurry of tingles burst through the faint touch causing them both to inhale—he was hesitating. Reluctant. Holding himself back by his own fear.

So, she helped him out.

And caught his lips against her own.

•••

A/N: let me know what you think! Thanks for reading this far 💖

#anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker #Anakin Skywalker x oc #star wars imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #angst

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blue-haired-grace · 2 years

Note

For the oc ask game - 3, 30, 50?

Thank you so much for the ask! Since no OC was specified, I'm gonna go with my newest clone OC!

I'm also gonna tag two others who should know about him: @mostlyvoidsometimesstars and @kkrazy256.

Hadiya, remember Amber? :)

Terra, Amber is based off what you said about needing more clone OCs who aren't good people, so thank you for the inspiration! <3

From this ask game.

3. How would they fare in a zombie apocalypse?

For the most part, I think Amber would survive the zombies. He knows how use a gun and other weapons, can go a while without food, and is in good physical condition; any weak points he has, well, he'd just make sure he's working with someone so he can throw them to the zombies instead so he can get away.

I think his downfall would be the other survivors. It's not as easy to cover your flaws and weaknesses with desperate survivors. Additionally, he has a need to be seen as the best in everything, so if he's working with someone who shows him kindness and empathy, it'd be a toss-up between throwing them to the horde or throwing himself so he can be remembered positively.

30. What's their political stance?

Amber...doesn't really care about the politics behind the Clone Wars. He'd play along with whichever side advantages him the most. Since he's a soldier in the GAR, he mostly acts the typical "For the Republic!" attitude. If, for some reason, he came in contact with a Separatist, he'd play along with their side.

50. Do they have any insecurities?

With how much he thinks the world of himself, it's hard for people to see if he has any. Those who have been around him the longest know that it was originally just a mask he played up for his brothers and the Kaminoans. Over time, and the more Amber played his role, the more he believed it to be true. If Amber isn't considered to be the best at something, he cannot deal with it and will play absolutely dirty to be seen as the best.

#oc amber #clone trooper amber #ask game

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jedi-hawkins · 2 months

Text

Bryn-Ayla Del Caro

Meet My Jedi OC! This is a living post with some info about her and her life! Feel free to send me an ask if you want to draw her or find out more about her character! More info and fun facts about her below the cut!

Pronouns: she/her

afab!

Born 56 BBY | Age 35 at the start of the war

Species: Human

Home planet: Takodana

Her family descended from a branch of House Vizla, but her ancestors left Mandalore at the end of the Mandalorian-Jedi war (738 BBY) and relocated to Takodana.

Headcannons:

OC Sunday: Shoes, Setting, First Impressions

OC Sunday: Voice, Home Planet, Weapon of Choice

OC Sunday: Favorite Book, My Favorite Trait, Weakness

OC Sunday: Most important thing, Hobbies, Starbucks

OC Sunday: Core Wound, Party Plans, Color Palette

OC Sunday: TV show, Plant, Body Type

OC Sunday: Song, Changes, Wardrobe

Shipping Questions: Bryn x Sergeant Hunter

Shipping Questions: Bryn x Obi-wan Kenobi

Physical description:

Height: 5'8"

Tanned skin

Dark brown hair, worn in a braid that falls to her waist

Dark brown eyes; sometimes they're black as night to the point you can't differentiate her pupils from her irises, other times they're warmer, with flecks of honey amber that shine in the sunlight.

Fit, muscular figure that can carry more weight than it appears to be able to handle.

Jedi Facts:

She was gathered by the Jedi Order when she was 4.

She and Obi-wan Kenobi were trained together at the Temple on Coruscant.

Became a padawan to Jedi Master Plo Koon at age 13.

Was also mentored by Qui-gon Jinn, and assisted him and his padawan, Obi-wan Kenobi on many missions.

She was present when Qui-Gon and Obi-wan rescued Queen Amidala from Naboo and found Anakin Skywalker.

Became a Knight at age 24.

Became a Master at age 31.

Gains a seat on the Jedi High Council at age 34 at the same time as Obi-wan Kenobi.

Her tunics are usually the basic tan, but her tabard is a dark maroon, and her cloak is a dark brown.

She was primarily a Form IV user (very Force-demanding and acrobatic), but after she built her second lightsaber, she became very skilled in Form V (switches quickly between offense/defense and incorporates dual-bladed combat).

After the construction of her second blade, she will switch between holding them in a traditional and reverse grip.

She had a padawan, a Twi'lek names Silais. He began training with Bryn when he was 13, was a very skilled prodigy and passed his trials and became a knight when he was 20.

She mentored Anakin in the same way that Qui-gon mentored her, and accompanied him, Obi-wan, and Ashoka on missions when needed.

She is close friends with Padme Amidala and serves as an unofficial liaison between the Jedi Council and the Galactic Senate.

Lightsabers:

She built her first Lightsaber when she was 12, and the crystal that chose her emitted a blue blade.

Her second saber, she built when she was 22 and emits a green blade.

Clone Wars Armor:

Rather than use standard-issue Jedi Armor made for the Clone wars, Bryn actually uses pieces from a set of beskar armor that was passed through her family from the old days of Mandalore. Originally, it was plain metal with no designs, but for the Clone War, she paints it Maroon like her troopers. After the battle of Jabiim, her Senior Commander Steeler paints a set of jiag eyes on her chest plate.

She wears a headset similar to real-world bone-conducting headphones to tap into clone comm channels hands-free rather than use a comlink.

Fun Facts:

She's fluent in Mando'a

She can communicate in some droidspeak, as well as some Huttese and Twi'leki, but does need communicators for complex conversation.

She identifies as polysexual; she is attracted to multiple genders, but is only attracted to humanoid species (though if there is a connection, she won't say no)

She has had a few intimate interactions and relationships, but she holds her duty as a Jedi above all else. She has no clouded judgement or shift in priorities from her affections.

Primarily, she and Obi-wan held an on-off relationship throughout their lives, but it was fully understood duty came first. When Cody comes along, Bryn is completely understanding and even encourages the relationship between Obi-wan and Cody and they become a throuple. Later on, after Bryn chooses to become the commander of Clone Force 99, Hunter eventually joins the polycule (no clonecest). Same as Bryn did for them, both Obi-wan and Cody encouraged her bond with Hunter.

At the start of the Clone War, she was assigned the 43rd Attack Legion, designation, Khaos.

A lot of the 43rd Legion's command structure/call signs/command officer names were heavily influenced by Grecoian (Greek) Mythology, because she gifted the command batch a book of myths.

Her call sign with the 43rd Legion was 'Nyx'

Her father had started training her in with bladed weapons when she was 3 and gave her a Mandalorian dagger when she was collected by the Jedi Order.

For a Jedi, she is skilled with 'civvy weapons,' especially daggers/vibroblades and rifles. She trained with them periodically for undercover assignments, and trained with them more vigorously at the start of the Clone War.

She drinks caf (like any other self-respecting overworked individual), but Obi-wan got her hooked on having a cup of tea in the afternoon (damn you Scottish man).

She survives Order 66 thanks to the Bad Batch.

After Order 66, she scrubs the maroon paint off her beskar armor and paints a new set of jiag eyes on her helmet with forest green paint. She then keeps her helmet on at all times and poses as a Child of the Watch, fighting with DC-17 blasters and vibroblades.

She has PTSD in relation to sleep and will often slip into patterns of insomnia or have night terrors.

She's a trained Medic.

When she was in the Jedi Academy, she knew Pong Krell and threw a pastry at him (nailing him in the face) after he said something bigoted in the Temple dining hall. They never really got along.

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars clone wars #star wars prequels #star wars: the clone wars #star wars oc #jedi oc #jedi #oc character #my ocs #swtcw #sw tcw

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