#naberiie writes fanfic
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🥑🥤🍄🪐🦴 for the writing ask game!
thanks friend!!
🥑 - you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?
Oh, first and foremost @3friesshortofahappymeal. a) we both watch plenty of crime shows and this girl will know how to hide a body, b) we happen to live in the same state, and c) she strikes me as chill and unflappable under pressure :)
🥤 - recommend an author or fanfic you love
OMG I needed an excuse to do this.
One of the -- if not THE -- BEST fanfics I've ever read is From Which Stars Have We Fallen, to Meet Each Other Here? by @naberiie and @evaceratops. It's yet another rarepair (possibly the rarest I've ever encountered), but WOW. Absolutely blew me away. It got me crying actual tears over two characters who were never even in a single scene together in canon. Actually, one of them has never been in live-action and the other has never been animated. So like...... it's rare. BUT SO SO SO SO GOOD and I will shout about it from the rooftops every chance I get.
There are many more I love, but I'll put those in another post someday!
🍄 - share a headcanon for one of your favorite ships or pairings
lol oh man I have so many. But one of my favorites and one that I think is more of a crack-headcanon than an actual serious one is the whole "anatomy analysis" shindig at the end of Agents of Shield season 7 😂 I re-watched that ep last week, and Jemma was SO clearly just talking about an alien species or something, but me and a whole bunch of other diehard dousy shippers were like..........what if Daisy is pregnant???? and idk, there were some adorable fics that came out of it and a whole bunch of cute art that I got to be involved in, and it was a great time. I still maintain that headcanon when I need some light fluffy family dousy vibes :)
🪐 - name three good things going on in your life right now
I'm sitting by an open window right now that looks out into the Austrian countryside, with mountains surrounding me and a light breeze coming through and I can just relax and not worry about responsibilities for a little while
I just purchased the GREATEST dairy free white chocolate with coconut and I'm currently in sugar induced heaven
I enrolled in college for the fall, and I've been missing school and wanting to get a stable career under my feet, and this will do just that and I'm SO EXCITED
🦴 - is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?
Honestly, not one specifically. I'm a culmination of every book I've read, every movie/show I've watched, every experience I've lived, every place I've been, every person I've ever talked to, all tossed into a cauldron and swirled around together until something semi-recognizable as my style came out. And I'm okay with that :)
--
Writers Truth & Dare
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preview of my piece for the dishonored zine, @cobbledbitsofbonezine! i am so proud of the work put into this project by all involved; it was one of the best zine experiences i’ve had the pleasure to be a part of. keep an eye out, it’s coming soon!
i wrote about samuel beechworth facing a private reckoning as he ferries corvo to kingsparrow island at the end of a high chaos run.
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700 Follower Celebration
I hit 700 followers a little while back and wow!! thank you all! some of yall have been with me for years, a lot of you found me during my mostly-productive quarantine, and some of you are new!! i’m grateful for each and every one of you!
Because I’m currently in school, I’m less active right now but I still wanted to do something in celebration of this milestone, so here is a rec list of some of my favorite authors and fics!! (7 and 7 for 700 lol)
Authors:
(tumblr username / Ao3 username)
@myriadimagines - Sam is one of the most prolific, talented, and kind writers on this website. I look up to her and I love her, and I highly recommend her blog for all types of imagines and fandoms!
@hixystix / HixyStix - one of my favorite Rebels and Kalluzeb writers! Also incredibly kind and talented, so check out their stuff!
@hellotoamudkip / mudkipwrites - another amazing Kalluzeb/Rebels writer, with true justice done to these stories and characters.
@thatiranianphantom / thatiranianphantom - a wonderful writer who I first discovered during my Hamilton phase but who now makes me 👀 at Riverdale, which is impressive given I’ve never seen the show.
@naberrie / naberiie - queen of rarepair hell, giving us the clone and Naboo handmaiden appreciation we didn’t know we needed.
@ver-writes-things / innocent_until_proven_geeky - Ver is the loml and also very talented! a ton of very soft fics, largely clone wars era and all excellent.
GKingOfFez - author of many Rebels fics that WRECK ME but have stuck with me a very long time.
Fics:
tell me about the big bang - one of my favorite fanfics, ever. a long, wonderful read. Finnpoe, angst, fluff- everything you could possibly need
How to Be a Finn - another absolute favorite fanfiction, which is Finn-centric (what we deserved from d*sney but never got.) again, this is long but 100% worth the read.
Return - a post-Endor Kalluzeb fic!! It’s touching and wonderful and everything we could possibly need after the Rebels finale.
From Which Stars Have We Fallen, to Meet Each Other Here? - this is the rarepair hell I mentioned above. Fives/Rabe, will end you. I also highly recommend all the other works in this collection, because wow.
Memories Lost - A Finnpoe AU that will make you laugh then cry then yell then cry again. Another one of my all-time favorites.
time to change the road you're on - A time-travel AU that’s centered around Ahsoka and the painfully cathartic fix-it we all need.
hold me 'till it sleeps - A Hamilton AU- high angst. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve reread this, and I think I have a few parts memorized. This is one of my forever favorites.
Check out the amazing people/works above! I’m so grateful to be a part of a community with so many other talented and supportive people! Thank you again for 700!
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thirteen minutes
As Sabé pilots the stealth vessel down onto Mustafar, tracking the signal from Padmé’s royal starship, she can pretend for a moment that everything will be alright. The chromium vessel glints like a starknife’s edge in the boiling crimson and scarlet of this world, cutting through the volcanic ash with ease, the tracking signal a steady--a healthy--heartbeat. For a moment, Sabé can tell herself she was simply being too paranoid, as usual. Thirteen minutes will not have made the difference, she lies, and knows that the words are too hollow to even try to believe. Thirteen minutes behind Padmé’s ship had been as fast as Sabé could depart. Once more Sabé wonders if Padmé would have rushed here if she had known her Sabé was so close, so desperate to help. Moteé and Ellé had sent her the message as soon as their mistress had left, but still the Captain of Amidala’s Royal Handmaidens worries that she had moved far too slowly. Time is constricted, breathless; something terrible is unfolding and Padmé is alone at the heart of it.
Aside from the starship, the landing platform is empty. In the midst of the perpetual roiling landscape that surrounds it, it’s far too still. Death and pain linger above it like a scab picked raw. And then Sabé’s eye catches on the figure lying, unmoving, on the platform.
She curses and throws the ship down, extending the ramp even before it touches down. Alarms scream back at her but she overrides them all. The knowledge that her paranoia had been right all along is drowned before it can fully live under the terror and panic of seeing her oldest friend, her most beloved, injured and alone and still, so, so, so terribly still.
Sabé jumps down onto the landing platform and immediately the soles of her shoes begin to burn. Sulfur weighs down the atmosphere and Sabé wants to scream again as she races to Padmé’s side--had the smoke inhalation knocked her out? Or had it been something, someone, else?
She falls to her knees by Padmé’s side. Ash coats her skin, her too-pale face, her hair. Her breathing is labored, struggling through her throat. “Padmé, flower,” Sabé begs. She works her fingers under the side of Padmé’s jaw and fights the despair that rises with the too-weak fluttering heartbeat. She fumbles for Padmé’s hands. Her fingernails have blood under them--her neck, bloody welts and scratches.
Despite the immortal inferno raging around them, the chill that races through Sabé could have frozen the entire galaxy.
As she carefully, gently lifts Padmé in her arms--too light, Sabé thinks, the fear in her throat, too light--someone calls her name. They almost sound relieved.
The droid.
She does not stop in her strides back to the ship, back to the clean air. In her arms, Padmé whimpers, the sound fragile. “Threepio. Tell me what happened.”
“It’s been such a terrible day, Master Sabé, such a terrible-”
“Shut up,” Sabé hisses, patience already frayed to a hair’s width. “Shut up and get to the point.”
“We followed Master Anakin here, but we didn’t know... we didn’t know Master Kenobi had hidden himself aboard before we left.” He follows her up the stealth vessel’s ramp, and his next words chill the very marrow of her bones. “We didn’t know, but Master Anakin didn’t believe her. Master Anakin thought she’d betrayed him. He got angry and...”
The claw marks on Padmé’s neck--her own, left by her own nails as she fought to breathe against invisible, crushing fingers--are stark in the artificial lighting of the vessel’s tiny medbay. Sabé stares down at them as she fixes an oxygen mask over Padmé’s mouth and nose. Thirteen minutes too slow. Thirteen minutes unlucky.
She wonders if gods move with their believers, or if Shiraya, too, is as helpless as Sabé on this burning planet.
“Where are they now?”
If the droid catches her frozen anger, he makes no mention. “I’m not sure. They started fighting.” He gestures, uselessly, and his next words are quiet. Genuine. “I’m very glad to see you, Master Sabé.”
Fighting, while Padmé lay unconscious on the ground. Animals, she hisses through her teeth. Selfish bastards. She hopes, selfishly, with another bright flash of anger, that they might kill each other.
If not, she’ll hunt down the survivor and kill him herself.
As the medical gear comes to life around them, Sabé doesn’t look at Threepio when she says, “You monitor her. Anything goes wrong, you come get me. Understood?”
“Yes. Are we leaving? What about Master Kenobi?”
Her lips curl back. Snarl, rather than a smile. “I don’t care.”
If she ever sees Anakin Skywalker or Obi-Wan Kenobi again, anger and blood coiling in her stomach, she will rip out their throats before even their Force can warn them of her blistering, consuming rage.
She will annihilate them for leaving Padmé, alone, injured, and unconscious on that platform. The rest of the galaxy be damned.
#felt like writing some Righteous Female Anger#and sabé is always the best candidate for that#handmaiden sabé#c3p0#padmé amidala#naberiie writes fanfic#long post //#injuries#blood#sabé comes back after padmé stabilizes in a hidden base and just punts anakin back into the lava
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goddess au anidala i beg of u... i know we haven’t talked about it in ages but it was truly the good stuff
Anakin had always loved Naboo, that world where he had first experienced the wonder of a society built around that which his own childhood had so thoroughly lacked. Even in the heart of Theed, one could expect to find fountains, grottos, aqueducts that flowed alongside the sun-warmed streets. One only had to walk towards the palace and soon the sound of half a dozen roaring waterfalls drowned out all other sound. To Anakin, it still seemed like the most decadent display of wealth - but water was not fought over, killed for, wrung from the air itself, like it had been on Tatooine. Life itself wasn’t a decadent display of wealth on Naboo, it was a simple fact of its reality, and he loved it for that.
Life was in such excess supply on Naboo that not even the dead could stay buried for long.
You’re very poetic today, Ani, whispered on the wind through the leaves. He shivered as Padmé’s warmth pressed gently against his hand, his back. Logically, he knew that she wasn’t behind him - that she would never physically be behind him ever again - but his heart still seized with the longing to turn around and see her standing there, smiling, her hair in lazy loose waves cascading down over her shoulders. Poetic and morose, and he could almost hear the smile in her voice. Her voice got stronger with every step to the vast building, and if he listened carefully, he could hear Rabé’s laughter, too.
The marble temple to Naboo’s ancient deities had been polished to gleaming perfection. Ever since the accident, the fiery explosion that had taken the bodies of Padmé and her three handmaidens away from those who had loved them, it had not taken the Nabooians long to understand what had become of their most beloved Queen.
Ever since Padmé-as-Shiraya had taken up residence in the temple in the heart of Theed, her three handmaidens by her side, the Naboo had restored the temple to its former, blazing, brilliant glory. What had once been derelict and abandoned, a sentimental relic of a bygone age, was now pulsing with hidden life, deep life, complex and unfathomable life, again.
Padmé had become one with the Force when she died, and she had settled into the halls of her ancestor’s deities like a clear mountain spring. The building itself felt invigorated, bursting with powerful, unseen energy.
Anakin reached out with the Force as he climbed the sun-soaked steps, and Padmé-as-Shiraya reached back, blossoms in her hair, laughter in the shadows. She was no longer compact and contained. Her energy flowed, boundless and eager, in the very waters of Naboo itself. He still didn’t understand how it had happened. Padmé and the three handmaidens that had died in the crash with her had become something more, something almost impossible.
When the breeze rustled the flowers on the vines that wrapped around the temple’s columns, Anakin felt her lips brush against his cheek. He stepped inside and felt her arms wrap around him, cradle him, and he let himself imagine - just for a single, selfish moment - that he could still do the same with her.
His heart had broken, and had mended in a strange, unfathomable, impossible, beautiful way.
Padmé’s laughter echoed in the high dark ceilings of her temple.
#brevity is the soul of wit#evaceratops#anidala#naberiie writes fanfic#warm up prompts#goddess au#anakin skywalker#padmé amidala#I THINK? THIS IS WHAT THE GODDESS AU WAS.... I CAN'T REALLY REMEMBER RIPPO
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don’t know if you’re still doing ficlet requests but I’d love some arcmaiden + on a mission together!
“Fives-”
“Mhm,” he mumbled, lips against her throat.
“Fives,” and when she laughed he felt her warm breath on his hair and he held her tighter to his chest. He heard the breath catch in her throat, even as she tried to go on, “Fives, are you listening? We’re on a… on a mission…” and her words trailed off as his hands started to wander.
It was a small, dark and private, out-of-the-way hotel room, with a perfect view of their target. The official reasoning for the mattress on the floor was to reduce the likelihood of being spotted. The official reasoning didn’t matter much, in his opinion. Usually he hated stakeouts.
Usually, he wasn’t allowed to do them with Rabé.
The Captain had threatened to flay him alive if he didn’t at least make an effort to pretend to focus, so he decided to make the effort now. Rex knew that Fives and Rabé would, despite their proneness to... distraction, would get the job done and get it done well. They both took pride in their work. He rolled over, picked up the macrobinoculars, and peered through the scope at the base, scanning it quickly and as efficiently as he could - even with the taste of her still lingering on his tongue. “Schedule, activate and register.” A tiny droid by his head beeped once, and he went on: “Time is oh-two-twenty-eight hundred hours. No sign of movement, no transports, no one coming or going. All clear, all still, all silent.”
The tiny machine beeped twice as a confirmation of a successful recording, and he put the macrobinoculars back down, rolled over, and couldn’t help a wide grin from spreading across his face when he saw Rabé lying next to him, hand to her heart, eyes closed, and very obviously still trying to catch her breath. He propped himself up on his elbow and just watched her, grinning.
“You’re a fiend,” she muttered, eyes still closed and a loose smile on her lips.
“I just missed you, is all,” he answered honestly. “Gotta make up for lost time, and now seems like a pretty convenient time to do it.”
She managed to crack open one eye. “While on the clock?”
His smile only widened. “I’m great at multitasking.”
The only light in the room came from the streets outside for maximum visibility on the target. Transport lights and the neon glow of the shop signs, dingy with age, melted into their room like liquid, nestled in the curves of her body like they knew that’s where they belonged. The look in her eyes nearly stopped his heart in his chest.
Fives slid his arms under her body and flipped their positions, so that she was closest to the window. He curled himself around her body, pressing close, his nose in her thick hair, legs tangled together. He bent to kiss her neck again and asked, “Better?”
“I still think you’re a fiend,” she answered, relaxing in his arms turning her head just so in order to brush her lips against his. “But you’re a damned clever one at that.”
His throaty laughter dissipated against her skin, the neon turning their rundown room into a dreamland.
Turns out, they were both very good at multitasking.
#brevity is the soul of wit#raspberryspacecloud#warm up prompts#naberiie writes fanfic#arcmaiden#arc trooper fives#handmaiden rabé#THIS IS SO GOOFY AND CHEESY.... but i love writing things like this JKHDSF#they're dumbasses. can't keep their hands off each other even on the job
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preview of from which stars, xxiii. aphelion
On any other night, Fives ignoring the barflies to grab a drink before quietly making his way to an empty booth without a single glance around 79s would have been more than enough grounds for Echo to drag him - willing or not - to the nearest medbay.
He watched as a butter-yellow Twi’lek stood and began to move gracefully to their table, eyes as focused as a targeting computer. Before they’d managed three steps, Echo gestured for them to stop and firmly shook his head, staring at them until they moved away, flustered, to seek comfort in the arms of another. Judging by the pieces of a bad pickup line and subsequent delighted giggles he overheard a few moments later, they’d found some company more willing to appreciate their charms. Echo took a pull of his drink and silently, sincerely, wished the couple an entertaining and happy evening together.
Fives sighed into his glass and took a swig, for once in his life entirely oblivious to the attentions and intentions of the non-trooper patrons of 79s. Echo himself enjoyed chatting and dancing with them, but as soon as someone started to hopefully put down hints for other, more private ways to pass the night, he’d gently steer them towards his brothers. Usually, he’d steer them towards Fives - but tonight, Fives was more interested in Echo’s quiet company. He hadn’t noticed Echo deftly herding the Twi’lek away.
He hadn’t noticed the other three hopefuls, either.
They’d sat in companionable silence for a few drinks, watching the chaos of the club roar around them, but now it was time to talk. “How long are you expecting this pity-party to last, trooper?”
Fives glared at him for a moment and then leaned back in his chair, sighing again. “Dunno.”
“I’d just like to know so I can add ‘professional ARC hand-holder’ to my skills list,” Echo said, his voice light.
Fives snorted, which Echo proudly took as a hard-won victory. “Maybe a few more days. I’ll feel better when we’re actually on assignment somewhere. Take my mind off things.”
“We’ve got a new one tomorrow, I think.”
“Yeah.”
They were silent for another few minutes, Fives twirling his glass on the sticky tabletop and Echo quietly gesturing a truly stunning Human man away from the table with a quick glance. Of all the nights… he bemoaned to himself. You all have some truly bad timing.
The base of Fives’ glass landed on the table with a quiet thunk. “D’you think I’m an idiot, Echo?”
“Sure.”
“I’m being serious.”
“So am I.”
#arcmaiden bts#arc trooper fives#arc trooper echo#just some boys being emotional and being supportive of the emotional#naberiie writes fanfic#fic snippet#fic preview#up to 4.2k now!!! i just have ONE MORE SCENE LEFT FELLAS#i wrote 1k and made veggie stock and started a brioche bread. What The Hell
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“when was the last time you slept?” - ama + azlin
“Where does this one go?”
“Those plates go up on that shelf–can you reach it?” Ama asks, and is immediately rewarded with a look of proud disdain from the young, brightly-colored Nautolan helping her clean up for the day. She laughs a little, holds her hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry, beta, I know you can manage.”
Tip flexes their hands for a moment and then stops. Their huge eyes flick towards the entrance of the Rose Lantern, which Ama locked in front of them so they could be assured that she’d done it. And then they clamber on top of the stepstool and put the clean plates away, without using the Force. Ama bites her lip but continues to wash the dishes, both of them purposefully ignoring the way the plate wobbled, ignoring the way both of their nerves twisted in fear at their instinctual reaching out through the Force. It’s safer, now, if they don’t use it. But purposeful disuse after a lifetime of training to manipulate it? It must feel like a tourniquet in their mind, she thinks. A slow strangulation, violent retraining, of one of their most natural instincts. But they don’t complain. Tip gets back down and picks up the drying cloth again, and neither of them speak. She knows they can sense her fear, and she knows how exhausted they are.
It’s hard to find something to talk about, now, anyways. Words seem to always fall short, nowadays.
So they focus on cleaning the restaurant. Purposeful, engrossing work that they could do together. Three days since Tip stumbled in through the door, three days since Ama had mentally moved one name from the long list of dead, missing, gone into the list labelled alive. It is much shorter than the first. Three days of the pair of them focusing on the small things, on the things they can change, the things they still have power over.
The bell above the front door chimes.
Her blood runs cold. Tip, too, is frozen, and for a moment all they can hear are soft steps, quiet breathing, the door swinging shut. Her family is all upstairs; her roommates are all accounted for.
Danger.
“Stay here,” Ama hisses, drying her hands, eyes fixed on the kitchen door.
“But-”
“If it’s stormtroopers,” she goes on, quietly, “your pack is by the back door.”
“Ama-”
“Stay hidden, I’ll come get you when it’s safe.”
They might have sighed in exasperation but she’s already moving through the kitchen into the restaurant proper, putting on her best imitation of her mother: confident and warm yet with absolutely no room for arguments. “Sorry, we’re closed–the door was locked for a reason, and-”
She stops, not quite trusting what she’s seeing. She knows those eyes, huge and strangely colored and so haunted, now.
She takes a step forward, and when the apparition doesn’t vanish, Ama moves one more name from the long list of the dead to living.
“Azlin?”
“Hi, Ama,” comes the answering whisper, exhaustion flaking away the strength of the Shadow’s voice like embers. “Sorry about the lock, it’s just-”
Ama doesn’t really remember crossing the room but she doesn’t believe Azlin’s actually here, actually alive, until she’s thrown her arms around the Shadow, buried her face in the thick hood of Azlin’s huge cloak. And she’s certainly not prepared when Azlin starts to tremble, her arms tight around Ama’s waist.
When Azlin chokes back a sob, the reality of the past two horrible weeks hits Ama all over again. Ama just sinks to the floor, tugging the Shadow down with her, and Azlin follows without a fight, curling into Ama’s arms like a lost child. Her quiet sobs echo in the empty restaurant, and when Ama glances back towards the kitchen she sees Tip peering around the corner. For just a moment she can almost pretend everything will turn out okay. She asks Tip with a sign to bring something to drink and they duck back into the kitchen. She’ll wait to relock the door until they’re back in the room, so that they can see her do it. So they can both see her do it. Small reassurances.
Azlin finally uncurls herself from Ama’s lap and she looks so exhausted that Ama doesn’t know what to say. So she just sits and holds Azlin’s hands, wiping away the tears on her cheeks. She’s relieved to see Azlin alive, but her relief pales in comparison to the terror of what Azlin’s life has now become. She remains quiet.
When Tip comes back out of the kitchen, carrying a tray with three glasses and a pot of hot tea, Azlin starts in shock, staring at them. Ama goes to the door and locks it again, the click providing some small sense of security for them all. Tip pulls a cushion next to Azlin and–taking care to make sure their poisonous skin doesn’t come into contact with hers–rests their head against her shoulder. They close their eyes and Ama wonders if the world feels empty to them, if it’s too quiet for them.
She pours the water while the former Jedi catch their breaths. When Azlin looks up and accepts the mug of tea, she looks like she just needs the warmth of it and cups it close to her chest. The door is locked, the lights are all turned out, and their little neighborhood is quiet. For now, it’s safe. “Azlin,” she begins softly, and then wonders how she could possibly voice all of her fears, her worries, her concerns. How to ask about the last two weeks of fear? They’re all so close to breaking.
Azlin holds her gaze, the skin under her eyes bruised, Tip still curled up against her.
Ama lets out a quiet sigh and, after a moment, knows what to say. She asks the questions that she knows will convey everything. “Have you eaten? When was the last time you slept?”
Azlin shrugs, unsure of how to answer, and Ama nods, rising to her feet. She doesn’t know how to set the world right again, she doesn’t know how to make it stop hurting. But she knows how to do this. “We’ll eat, and then we’ll talk. And then you’ll sleep here, alright? For as long as you need.”
Azlin nods. It can’t be forever; they all know that. But at the very least, it’s something.
At the very least, they have each other.
#brevity is the soul of wit#evaceratops#oc amaranth elsheva#oc azlin eko#oc tip aavro#campaignverse#long post //#i.... Emo#tip belongs to transmikecrew !#also tip Knows that its azlin that's why they're like 'ama pls' skdjfhsd#naberiie writes fanfic
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(i love you) i want us all to eat well.
rating: g
fandom: star wars: the force awakens; personal headcanons for sequel trilogy
focus: finn character study
ship: can be read as finn/rey, finn/poe, finn/rose, finn/rey/poe... (everybody loves finn)
content warnings: food, eating
additional tags: no plot/plotless, fluff, five things/five times, force-sensitive finn
2.4k
summary: Finn’s journey took him from the barren, bleak corridors of the First Order to the colorful, welcoming warmth of the Resistance community; from dense nutrition bricks to home-cooked meals among friends.
A (mostly) fluffy study of his character journey, using colors and foods as motifs.
on ao3.
snippet:
The first thing FN-2187 remembered tasting were the nutrition bricks.
Cold bricks the color of durasteel, with about the same flavor. Two for every meal, more for the heavy gunners. It was all very scientific. Exactly what each class needed, nothing more, nothing excess. It was cheaper this way, easier to serve, easier to prepare, easier to store food items in nutrient-dense, flavorless bars for the troops of the First Order. Each bite held together like wet sand for just a moment on the tongue before dissolving into a dusty cloud of faint metallic taste, like the distance memory of biting one’s tongue.
#sw fic#finn#sw:tfa#st#naberiie writes fanfic#for ts:#food#cooking#hello. pretentious fic time#edit: now with link! djksfhskdjhsdjk#finnrey#finnpoe#finnrose#finn/rey/poe
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They can’t say exactly how it happened – all they know is that one moment, they’re figuring out how to transport a gigantic kyber crystal back to the Resolute, and the next –
“My patience is wearing thin,” warns the woman standing in front of them, dressed in the regalia of the Naboo monarchy, white face and painted cheeks and lips. “Tell me who you are or I will order my handmaidens to shoot you down!”
Rex blinks, and glances sidelong at Fives, who is, in turn, staring dumbstruck at the handmaiden with light brown skin, a fierce scowl on her face, and a blaster pointing directly at his chest. It’s Rabé, of that there’s no doubt, but she’s young. Too young – and so is Eirtaé, standing by her side, guarding Sabé behind them. In the distance, there’s the sound of battledroids and blasters, and Rex’s head starts to ache.
On his other side, Jesse mutters under his breath, “What the kriff-”
Eirtaé snaps, “By the order of Queen Amidala-”
“You’re not Queen Amidala,” Rex says, more on reflex than anything. Had this – fever dream? Hallucination? – happened before the mission to Alderaan, he would have been hard-pressed to tell the difference. But he knows the Senator, and he knows Sabé, and he knows that is definitely not Padmé under the heavy makeup and gowns standing before him.
To her credit, to all of their credit, not one of the three women – by all the hells, they can’t be older than fourteen – react to the accusation. Sabé’s dark eyes are impassive, Rabé and Eirtaé’s mirrored expressions don’t move an inch. Despite the fact that the troopers had just been standing in a muddy field and were now cornered in what could only be the palace in Theed, judging by the copious amounts of marble and tall windows streaming sunlight, Rex was thoroughly impressed with their durasteel-clad will.
Sabé glares at him so witheringly that Rex regrets it at once and replies in that deep, booming voice that he’s only heard Senator Amidala use once, “I am Queen Amidala and I am demanding to know who you are, and how you came to be in my palace. Speak now and explain yourselves, or you will never speak again.”
It echoes powerfully down the sunlit hall, despite her diminutive stature. Sabé always means business – and Rex struggles to keep a slightly-hysterical yet fond smile off his face.
He clears his throat and straightens, speaking calmly and respectfully – Fives is certainly going to be of no help, staring dumbly at a miniature version of his fiancée who looks ready to kill him without a moment’s thought – Rex spinning the story as quickly as he can, “The Trade Federation has blockaded and invaded Naboo, correct?”
Sabé-as-Queen-Amidala jaw sets as she impatiently answers, “Yes.”
“You are accompanied by Master K- by Master, uh,” and for a moment his mind is blank, Kenobi’s master’s name dancing on the tip of his tongue, and then, “-Jinn, and his Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi?”
Another curt nod, the blasters remaining level at their chests, and a round of blaster fire sounds from a corridor close by. “We don’t have time for this!” Sabé snaps. “Get to your point!”
“We were sent to assist you take back the palace and secure it.” Rex responds immediately, the fabrication taking shape in his mind at once, and that gets a reaction from Rabé, at least.
She blinks, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion, “Who were you sent by?”
“We’re an elite batch of clone troopers from Kamino. An… experimental unit. The Jedi Council sent us.” He reaches for his holo – slowly, as Eirtaé’s eyes flash in anger – and brings up the official seal of the GAR and the Jedi. It’s out of place, just like the three troopers of a war that hasn’t been declared yet, it won’t be in use for at least – shit, ten years – but Rex hopes beyond belief that Sabé will accept it. Otherwise this time-jump will be a one-way ride for them.
Jesse gives him such an incredulous look that Rex has to resist the urge to snap at him to look sharp, trooper. At least the universe gave him two ARCs – they must look imposing to the three young girls, who they know as short women, tiny Rabé never topping over five feet even ten years from now.
Numbly, Rex realizes he’s already compartmentalized the fact that they’ve somehow traveled back in time.
Good soldiers adapt to the ever-changing, never-predictable environment around them.
Eirtaé’s the one to step up and examine his credentials, her ice-blue eyes snapping it up as efficiently as he remembers. She frowns at the sleek new logo of the Republic, refitted for military use, but it has all the trappings of bureaucracy to make it legitimate enough to her eyes. She stares at him, hard, but gives a tight nod, and she steps back, blasters still raised, but no longer pointing at their chests.
“Clone troopers from Kamino.” Sabé says slowly, eyeing the three standing before her. “Sent to help us take back our home.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m Captain Rex, these are ARC troopers Jesse and Fives.”
“I am Queen Amidala, and that is all you need to know.” Sabé pointedly replies.
He nods, meeting Jesse’s and then Fives’ eyes. Don’t use their names.
Rex isn’t sure what signal passes between the three handmaidens, but Rabé suddenly smiles that bright, familiar smile as Sabé-as-Queen-Amidala nods curtly. “If you are lying to me, you will die.”
“A fair deal, ma’am,” Jesse says – and that earns him a quick, bemused glance. Fives just looks pained, and Rabé’s kind smile falters a little, but then –
Her eyes focus on something over his shoulder and the three men turn, quick drawing their blasters at the sickeningly familiar sound of battledroid machinery, but Rabé’s already firing. She takes two down with ease as Sabé ducks behind a thick marble column, and the other two handmaidens follow suit.
“Captain – with me!” Sabé says, and Rex moves at once, firing off quick, accurate shots as he shields her – he doesn’t understand how they got here, or why, or how they’ll kriffing get back – but he and the two ARCS adapt with ease. They’ll figure it out.
Somehow.
#naberiie writes fanfic#sometimes u just gotta bust out 1k of a random timetravel fic u know?#captain rex#arc trooper fives#arc trooper jesse#handmaiden sabé#handmaiden eirtaé#handmaiden rabé#tcw fic
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ONE CATERER TO RULE THEM ALL, aka Finn and Rey are owners of rival bakeries and the Tico sisters are having a graduation party and Rey is VERY competitive and I just wanted to write the beginnings of a rivals to friends to lovers modern bakery AU because there are no rules anymore and it was fun to write!
1.8k, who knows what the plan for this fic is because I certainly have no plan, hopefully more chapters to come? Happy @finnreyfridays !!
#finnrey#finnreyfridays#naberiie writes fanfic#RIVAL BAKERY AU I GUESS#just good pure simple FUN#sometimes i just NEED to write finnrey it just be like that sometimes
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next chapter of FWS snippet!! the ice planet mission begins... this isn’t a snippet from the 1k i wrote in this chapter today, but it still makes me laugh. we’re at 2k now!! slowly but surely...
Skywalker glanced towards Sabé, and then at Rex. “Right. I’ll go in with a small team of three-”
“Ah, General?” Sabé cleared her throat. “I mean no offense, but it is meant to be a stealth mission. We’ve been trained for this, and from what I’ve gathered… it’s not quite your, ah, style?”
Rex coughed but Sabé still caught his tiny smile as Skywalker stared at her. She kept her expression neutral as she barreled on, “Rabé and Eirtaé would be perfect for this mission, as would - I’m assuming - the ARC troopers?” Some quietly mischievous part of her mind giggled at the thought of Rabé’s expression when she found out, but they truly would be the best people for the job.
“Yessir. We already know they work well together. They are the most qualified to handle this.” If Rex was thinking the same about Fives, he was hiding it very well.
“You two are teaming up against me,” Skywalker said with a faint ghost of a smile. “But I see your point. Alright. Team of four, they duck in through this window in the weather - clap eyes on the structure - proceed from there to take out any security before we come in with the big ships to reclaim the cache.”
“We’ll have to wait for another window to bring our ships. That wind is breaching a hundred knots - look, here, another window at 0300 hours. We drop them in during the smaller window, at 1820 hours, which gives them plenty of time to take out security before our window for extraction.”
Skywalker nodded as Sabé said, “Sounds like the perfect shot.”
“Right. Let ‘em know, Captains. They leave here at 1600.”
Simultaneously, Rex and Sabé keyed in the details to their ‘pads, and three decks below, four people immediately got to work, two of them very pointedly ignoring the knowing looks of the other two.
#arcmaiden bts#anakin skywalker#handmaiden sabé#captain rex#anakin getting roasted by two captians more at 11#naberiie writes fanfic#arcmaiden#fic snippet
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finished up the regis character study (title: heirloom of heaviness) today and will be posting it in full later tonight! but for now, a tiny snippet:
You know much.
“Are babies supposed to sleep this much?” King Regis Lucis Caelum asked in a nervous whisper, staring wide-eyed down at the baby - at his baby - fast asleep in the crib. Almost to answer his question, Noctis - barely a week old and tiny, so tiny - kicked and furrowed his brow, opening and closing a hammy fist before settling once more into a deep sleep. Oh, thought the King. Oh. He wasn’t a stupid man, per say. He even liked to think he was clever, most of the time.
But he didn’t know much about babies.
Queen Aulea laughed softly and gently brushed Noctis’ dark hair off of his forehead. “You sleep this much. He gets it from you,” and Regis opened his mouth to argue - but the mischievous gleam in her eyes told him it would be a losing battle. He laughed quietly and shook his head before leaning over to kiss her cheek. Sunlight streamed in through the windows of the little nursery, dust motes dancing in the golden light.
Regis stroked Noctis’ cheek, and his infant son’s hand closed around his finger.
Regis’ heart soared.
Besides him, Aulea began to cough.
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carry me slowly, my sunrise. ffxv (brotherhood era), 10.3k. commission for @dovefanworks
Prompto Argentum has never been to a royal Gala before, and the other three eagerly persuade him to come to the annual Winter Solstice Gala - unaware that they've also invited a competitor for (impressively oblivious) Prom's heart.
- Gala/formal event, pining, oblivious Prom, getting together
#naberiie writes fanfic#ffxv#polyship roadtrip#prompto argentum#noctis lucis caelum#gladiolus amicitia#ignis scientia#writing commissions#video games#ari veruna#handmaiden eirtaé#veruna siblings are capable of interdimensional transportation and use their powers for good and love and healthy competition KJSDHF#YAAAYYY IT'S FINALLY HERE AND POSTED#i hope u love it ;v;
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It’s not until much later, weeks after their strange trip to Mortis, does Anakin realize it, and when he does, it’s no surprise to him. What is a surprise, is the fact that both Obi-Wan and Ahsoka do not seem to realize it, too.
There was a Father, a Daughter, a Son. Light, dark, the balance that kept them in check.
He only realizes it when Obi-Wan remarks on the absence of the archetypal ‘Mother’ in that tone that means ‘this is worth looking into, but later, when I have the time.’
(What goes unsaid is also ‘when I have the energy, when I don’t feel as if I am being pulled apart every day.’)
Anakin realizes it when he catches his laughter in his throat – are you blind, Obi-Wan? Did you really not see her?
And then Anakin realizes no, his old Master had not seen her.
He had not seen her tired, loving eyes; her graying hair pulled back in a simple bun; her sun-stained skin and well-worn hands or the coarse tunics draped over her weary but indomitable frame. She had not been as grand or mysterious or as mystical as the other beings on that planet, but, then again, Anakin knew her to be more powerful, more beautiful than all of them combined.
He had no father, but he had a Mother.
She had given him his name, the one he bore with an unfathomable, never-ending, infinite pride, a verb as well as a noun: Sky-walker.
Shmi Skywalker had walked the grounds of Mortis; how could one say there was no Mother?
#naberiie writes fanfic#ficlet#anakin skywalker#shmi skywalker#mortis arc#why am i thinking about this? no one knows#Shmi Skywalker is the Mortis Mother you cannot change my mind
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heirloom of heaviness. FFXV, regis lucis caelum character study, 3k.
From the moment Noctis breathed his first, Regis Lucis Caelum did what was best for his son.
Or, at the very least, he tried to.
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