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galacticgraffiti · 1 year

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☽⭒ Above the Skies (2) ⭒☾

Summary: How did Hanto get to join Minnie's crew? What was she like before? Well, you see-

Featured Characters: Hanto (f!Duros OC), Minnie (f!Togruta OC), Antilya (one-off f!human OC) Rating: Mature (for some ugly themes) Wordcount: 3.1k Warnings: toxic relationship, ugly verbal fights but it gets better, allusions to sexual themes/very vague allusions to the possibility assault (not within the relationship), picking apart personal insecurities, breakup. A/N: All the thanks in the world and many kisses to my beautiful beta readers @cyarbika and @baba-fett I appreciate your encouragement and input more than I can say! ❥

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Chapter 2: Coming Home

Canto Bight, Cantonica. 23 BBY

Hanto hates these rich people. She hates the way their perfume is always so strong that it lays over her pores like a second skin, hates the too-loud laughter and the air of superiority that surrounds them.

Sometimes, even though she tries not to think about it too much, she hates Antilya for dragging her with her. This may be Antilya’s scene, but it is certainly not Hanto’s. She bears it, though, for the sake of the sponsors and for the sake of harmony in their small, shared home.

Antilya is nudging Hanto’s arm, flirting with another sponsor - a fat, blue Twi’lek who strokes his lekku and licks his lips as he looks Hanto’s girlfriend up and down.

We can’t tell them we’re together, Hanto hears the faint echo of Antilya’s voice in her head. They can’t know. We’ll get more sponsors that way.

It sounded sensible at the time - nearly two years ago, when they barely had enough money to eat, when Hanto came home from another rotten shift for corrupt bosses who would have looked at her as an object of desire and not a capable employee if it were not for her bald head and unsettling red eyes.

There aren’t many species who consider Duros to be attractive, not even in the diversity of this galaxy. Back then, Hanto was happier for it. Back then it meant security in a sleazy town; it meant jobs that were fixing things and not dancing for crimelords or worse. Back then, it meant safety on her way home from another nightshift. Canto Bight is not safe for pretty girls. Not safe for Antilya, but she refuses to leave. It’s her home, and Hanto understands that. She does not feel the same way about Canto Bight, but then again, she was not born here. So she does not blame Antilya for wanting to stay. Hanto hides in her too tall, too bony frame, hides behind her hairless head and unsettling eyes while men lust after Antilya. Hanto once did not care that people might regard her as ugly. Back then, Antilya used to tell her that neither did she. Hanto has not heard her say that in a long time.

By now… now, it feels like another burden. Another thing to fight about in their messy relationship. They fight, they kiss, they do the races, they make up. Hanto never forgets Antilya’s ugly words, and she never forgets her own. Fights between lovers bring out the worst in people.

“...but Hanto has made so many improvements on the racer since the last race, isn’t that right?” Antilya’s voice interrupts Hanto’s spiraling thoughts.

Hanto nods, feeling the ridiculous fake hair Antilya makes her put on whenever they go on the hunt for new sponsors tickle her arm with the movement. The only other option is to stay at home alone though, and to let Antilya walk home by herself, and Hanto refuses to do that. It’s not safe.

The event’s not gonna last forever, just tonight, just a few hours, she tells herself every time. And every time she hates it more.

Antilya squeezes Hanto’s arm and leans over to whisper in her ear just as the blue Twi’lek turns away from the conversation.

“I think I see someone over there. I’ll just go say hi… Would you mind getting us a few drinks, babe?”

Hanto flinches.

“I’ve told you not to call me that!” She calls after Antilya, but she has already vanished in the crowd. Hanto sighs.

She elbows her way through the crowded halls of the casino, not much caring whose toes she steps on. The wait at the bar is going to be long, she can feel it. Currently, that feels like a better option than sucking up to a rich smuggler or an even richer senator with a preference for petite female podracers.

What? They like the thrill, Antilya had once shrugged when Hanto had gone on another rant about how disgusting she found this whole business.

They like the fact that you are pretty, and that your ass looks good with their logo on it, Hanto had said. They like that you’re a pretty little investment, and the fact that they have all the power, and if brake comes to throttle, it’s you that dies, and not them.

Antilya hadn’t spoken to her for a week after that fight.

Hanto tries not to sigh too deeply as she leans against the bar counter. The air is clogged with alcohol, a faint whiff of spice and smoke, and way too much body odour for her skin to breathe comfortably.

Hanto’s eyes search for the bartender, but instead they fixate on… a familiar Togruta woman. It’s the same woman Hanto has seen around for the last few weeks. She was never here at the casino before, but she comes to watch the races. Hanto has noticed her. Hanto notices everyone, especially when they look like that. The Togruta has the eyes of a hawk, and more than once Hanto has caught herself daydreaming that the woman might be watching her. But the Togruta has never given any sign of interest aside from watching the races. She sits in the shade of the VIP booths in her light coloured gowns and watches the races. She is always alone. Hanto has never seen her speak to anyone. Something about her feels different.

It shouldn’t, but it does. She doesn’t feel like the rest of the crowd: eager for a gruesome accident, less interested in the sport than in who wins because it’ll make them money. This Togruta woman watches the races with an intensity Hanto has rarely seen before.

Hanto has wondered if she might be a scout, looking for pilots to recruit, or a sponsor trying to keep anonymous. If the latter, she is not doing a very good job of it. Everything about her, from the pattern on her light blue skin to the glittering pearls that decorate her montrals, screams for attention.

Hanto is fascinated by her.

She only becomes aware that she is staring quite rudely when dark eyes snap to her, a grin tugging at the corner of the Togruta’s mouth as she toasts Hanto and takes a sip of her wine.

Hanto blinks. Surely this can not have been directed towards her. She tries to flag down the bartender, to no avail. Of course not. Not even long shiny hair can hide the wrinkles and lashless eyes of her species. Pretty ladies get served first.

Hanto clicks her tongue at her own thoughts and tells herself not to be so bitter.

When Hanto looks over to the woman again, she still sits there. A dignified tilt of her head points to the empty barstool next to her. Hanto blinks slowly. Then points at herself. The Togruta nods.

Dazed and with a pounding heart, Hanto makes her way over. The woman must have been watching Antilya when she flew her races. She must have seen Hanto around, assuming that she is Antilya’s manager. She must want-

“Hello there.”

It’s a voice that envelops Hanto completely, like the cool clear waters of her home planet. Even in these two simple words, Hanto can hear the slight accent, the softness of the Togruta’s tongue as it nudges her teeth. She is not used to speaking Basic.

Hanto takes a breath to compose herself. This is a business interaction. It has to be.

“Hi.”

How utterly unprofessional. Hanto can nearly hear Antilya’s voice in her head: This is why I handle the business side of things.

The Togruta smiles, showing off sharp teeth. Hanto can’t help but smile back.

“I’ve seen you around,” the woman says in her strange singsong voice. She pronounces the vowels so softly as if she were afraid of breaking them.

“You might have,” Hanto nods and points to the stool next to the Togruta’s. “This seat taken?”

“No.” The woman tilts her head, her lekku twitching in interest.

Hanto slides onto the seat, trying not to be too obvious as she attempts to gauge the situation. Maybe she should get Antilya and-

“You are that human racer’s mechanic, are you not?” The easy question eats its way into Hanto’s heart. Of course the Togruta wants to know about Antilya, of course she wants what everyone else wants.

“Oh… aye,” Hanto confirms, her heart fluttering in disappointment in spite of herself. A corner of her mouth quirks in self-deprecation. Usually she is not ruffled so easily.

The Togruta watches her with her keen, dark eyes as Hanto continues.

“I’m Antilya’s mechanic. Did you want to speak with her? She should be around here somewhere-”

A laugh that feels like flower petals falling interrupts her ramblings.

“It’s not her I want to speak to, no.” The Togruta’s eyes focus on Hanto’s hands, then flick back up to her face. “I’m quite capable of seeking out the people I want to converse with, thank you.”

Shame burns in Hanto’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply-”

“Don’t be sorry.” The Togruta smiles at her and places one hand on Hanto’s bony arm. “I am Minretesh.”

Minretesh. Not a Togrutan name Hanto has ever heard before.

Minretesh cocks her head.

“Will you tell me your name?”

Oh.

“Haven’t I?” Hanto stumbles over her words. “I’m Hanto. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Minretesh repeats. “You apologise too much.”

The next sorry dies on the tip of Hanto’s tongue. She sighs.

“...yeah. Maybe.”

“You do!” Minretesh insists passionately. “You hide in the shadow of your racer girl. I see it every time I come to a race. I had never seen a human fly like that. I came to every race I could after the first time.”

“Antilya is extraordinary,” Hanto mumbles.

“For a human, yes, she is a very talented pilot.” Minretesh nods earnestly. “But she is not the talent. You are.”

I’m sorry, what?

Before Hanto has time to process this odd statement, the Togruta continues, her voice flowing like song.

“It is you who is extraordinary… Hanto. I have seen the podracer. I paid an exorbitant amount of money to see it from up close, in fact. For a city known for its low morals, the guards of the arena sure do take their jobs seriously. I have bribed prison wardens for less.”

Hanto’s head is spinning. This conversation has taken many turns, and not one has led in a direction that Hanto expected. Then, her brain processes something important.

“Wait, you bribed someone to tinker with my pod?”

Minretesh’s laughter is so loud that half the bar turns their heads her way.

“I did not… tinker with your pod, as you put it, beautiful girl. I merely wanted to look at it. See what you have done to make such a wondrous thing possible as your racergirl… you know, not dying. I mean, she’s human, for fuck’s sake.”

The unexpected curse from Minretesh’s soft lips rips Hanto from the trance her mind fell into the second Minretesh called her ‘beautiful’. No one has ever said that to her. She makes a choked sound to push down her laughter.

“You are laughing.” Minretesh observes dryly. “What did I say?”

“Fuck,” Hanto giggles. Minretesh’s nose scrunches.

“You are laughing because I cursed?”

Hanto struggles for both breath and words.

“Kind of,” she snorts then. “It was so… surprising.” Quieter, she adds, “And you called me beautiful. Not even Antilya-” she bites her tongue. Shit.

No one can know.

“Ah.” Minnie raises an eyebrow. “So she is your racer, hm?”

Hanto looks away.

“She doesn’t want people to know,” she mumbles. “It drives off the sponsors, knowing that a racer like her is… involved… with someone. Especially with someone like me.”

She drums her fingers on the counter. Minretesh does not say anything for a long time. Then, her soft voice comes again, barely audible over the chatter of the bar.

“Hanto.” That’s all she says at first. It is more a sigh than it is a word. Hanto does not look up; instead focusing on the way the grime has settled into her fingertips in a way that will never be clean, no matter how long the showers are that she takes.

A pale blue hand inches across the wood of the counter, resting next to Hanto’s darker one.

“Hanto, my dear,” Minretesh says again. “Listen to me. The reason I wanted to talk to you was to ask you if you wanted to join my crew. I have recently… come into possession of a new ship, and I cannot manage it alone. I have tried. I have failed. I came here on other business, but when I saw what you could do, I had to ask. I need a capable mechanic. I don’t know enough about mechanics to figure out exactly what you did to that podracer, but I know enough to tell that it is excellent work. I know enough to tell that you have not always worked with podracers. You have experience with starships. I need… someone like you. I don’t know anyone else like you.” Minretesh pauses to take a deep breath. “I have a feeling we would work well together. I’ve watched you, and just from that I could tell that you are kind, and patient. Way more patient than people deserve sometimes. I think you would like it with me, travelling the galaxy. But if you have things to keep you here- if I had known that there was a girlfriend, a family… I want to extend the offer nonetheless. You are worth way more than anyone gives you credit for.”

The small blue hand with long, sharp nails squeezes Hanto’s arm affectionately as Minretesh slips off her barstool.

“As for my previous statement… I stand by it. You are beautiful. You have an interesting face and talented hands. You are kind. I don’t know what could be more beautiful than that. If your girlfriend doesn’t tell you that every day, maybe you should consider if she is someone worth staying for. That is all I will say for now. Goodbye, beautiful Hanto.”

The air gets heavier when she leaves.

Two weeks have passed since that moment. Hanto is standing in the pit, up to the elbows in grease and spare parts, with the lovely soundtrack of Antilya yelling at her over the Herglic rage-metal that booms from the speakers.

“This was your fault!” Antilya screams. “I could have won that race if the thruster didn’t give out, I could’ve-”

“You couldn’t have won shit,” Hanto mumbles under her breath. Antilya is not even looking at her, just pacing up and down, her beautiful face red and blotchy from anger as she continues her tirade.

“-and I told you before the race, I told you…”

Hanto shuts the sound of her out. She can’t bear it anymore. In her mind, she revisits the memory of Minretesh’s gentle voice offering her a way to get out of here, to leave the planet. She should have taken the offer when she had the chance.

“-are you even LISTENING to me?” Antilya is staring down into the pit, daggers in her eyes. She throws her hands up in the air. “You know what, I don’t know why I even bother anymore. You won’t even admit you’ve made a mistake and-”

That’s it. Hanto breaks.

“Me? I didn’t make a goddamn mistake!” she yells. Antilya looks at her like Hanto developed two heads. This has never happened before. Usually, their fights are quite one-sided. Hanto could count the times she has yelled at Antilya on one hand. She does not enjoy raising her voice, but enough is enough.

Hanto wipes her arms and climbs out of the pit, standing directly in front of Antilya.

“I did not make a mistake,” she repeats, calmer, even though her thoughts are still racing. “I have never made a mistake. In fact, I have tried my damn best to make up for the disadvantages of you being a human racer because you loved racing, and I thought I loved you.” She takes a deep breath.

“Somewhere along the line, that got lost. You want more money, and that’s fine. I don’t. I would have been content. But I was fine with you wanting more. I was fine with keeping our relationship a secret, fine with you batting your lashes at gross rich people in front of me, fine with taking the blame so you could keep doing what you loved. So we could have harmony at home.” Another deep breath.

“I’m not fine with that anymore. We haven’t had peace at home for a long time. You can be an ugly, ugly person, Antilya. And if we’re being honest, I don’t particularly like the woman you have become in the last few months.” Hanto is breathing hard now, but now that the dam has broken, it is impossible to stop.

“And not to be dramatic, because I know how you hate that…,”Antilya rolls her eyes at Hanto’s words, but Hanto ignores her, “...but if I’m being honest with myself, I should have left a long time ago. I should have left when talking to you started to feel like a chore. I should have left when you started to be ashamed of me. I should have left when our house stopped feeling like a place I could come home to, and the reason that I stayed is - more than anything, which is shameful - that… I just forgot that I could leave. And recently, I was reminded of that.”

Antilya doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t cry, doesn’t yell, she doesn’t even apologise. She just turns around and leaves. When Hanto comes home hours later, Antilya’s things are gone.

Three days later, Minretesh walks into Hanto’s workshop booth at the arena.

“What are you still doing here?” is all she asks.

“You didn’t give me your frequency,” Hanto mumbles. “You didn’t know where I lived. I was afraid I’d miss you coming back. This is the only place I could think of to wait for you.”

Minretesh just nods, even though it is a flimsy excuse, given that Hanto’s things are piled up in a corner along with a makeshift bed. She does not ask why Hanto is living in the pitstop workshop.

“Have you considered my offer then?” she asks instead, stretching her hand out. Hanto takes it.

“I’ll need to see the ship first.”

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Previous Chapter ☽⋅⋅⋆⋅⋅☾ Next Chapter [coming]

As always, feedback means the world to me, especially about stories that don't really lean into canon, so I really do appreciate every single comment, kind tag, nice ask in my inbox etc. So much love to you all!

@deewithani @ficsbynight @kote-wan @ariadnes-red-thread @rescuethewretched @twistedstitcher27 @kakashibabe02 @writingbylee @purgetrooperfox @basilbumble @witchklng @lackofhonor @ashotofspotchka @sailor-blossom @misogirl828 @amyroswell @darkjedipoptarts @pinkiemme @sleepingsun501 @fett-djarin @samanthacookieone @tortor-mcgee @corrabell @lady--kenobi @elegantduckturtle @felinaone @palpipeen @wild-karrde @kik51199 @sharpbarnacle @obeydontstray @nomercyforthewarrior @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @thefact0rygirl @everythingyouwanted @equalityforcats @cagrame @ladykatakuri @snakerune @shadesofshatteredblue @ulchabhangorm @damerondala @tachyon-girl

#above the skies #gala’s ocs #oc hanto #oc minnie #gala writes #star wars oc #togruta oc #duros oc #star wars original story #star wars original character #tw toxic relationship

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florbelles · 2 years

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from whom earth and heaven fled.

so @blissfulalchemist decided to blow me away with this absolutely gorgeous early birthday gift!! lici, i cannot thank you enough, i am absolutely obsessed with all of the impeccable details and the beautiful rep of helldaughter <3

#TYSM BBY STILL UGLY SOBBING ABOUT IT #LOOK AT THE DRESS!!!!!! THE TATTOOS!!#oc: lyra fairbanks #fc5 #blissfulalchemist

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nadineselfships-archived · 7 years

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What am i wearing, i don’t even know.

#self insert #self ship #undertale #papyrus #oc x canon #papyine #my art #doodles #akdkfkg this is ugly actually #don't look at me i look weird #my bbys look good tho #look at those handsome boys 💕💕#Kisses & Cuddles & Trouble #Across Timelines

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prim-moth · 7 years

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A little doodle made at school~

#oc #myoc #original character #tido #no ross aaaa #i have another art but it's so ugly bc of the arm & i dont wanna show it so yea :)#doodle draws #watercolor #my deer bby

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myherokatsuki · 2 years

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your favorite angry boi for the ask game

aaaaa ty for asking, mel >w<

favorite thing about them:

uhm, everything? what you do mean that's not a proper answer?

but seriously, how strong he is, and smart, and how he subverts your expectations of him, like he's so much more than some loud angry bully, he's grown so much and he's just so complex. i love him sm

least favorite thing about them:

how hard on himself he is ;__; not being perfect constantly doesn't make you weak bby

favorite line:

"If all you ever do is look down on people, you won't be able to recognize your own weaknesses."

brOTP:

Bakugou & Kirishima

OTP:

Bakugou x Ji-ae you can tear my canon x oc ships from my cold dead hands

nOTP:

bkdk don't hate me;;

random headcanon:

I actually hc Bkg as demi/grey ace

unpopular opinion:

;aldfkja; idk if this is all that unpopular, but i also see bkg as a switch

edit: i’m not a big fan of bkg with an undercut >__<

song i associate with them:

zetsu - the gazette, for no real reason other than i feel like he'd listen to them lol

favorite picture of them:

how can i possibly choose??? he's perfect in every picture, even when he's making ugly faces but i am rather partial to this one what can i say? i'm a sucker for suits

#joz answers #santacarlahorrorshow

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idle-identity-ocs · 3 years

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friends

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sooibian · 4 years

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Freed

image from Pinterest, edited by me

Pairing: Baekhyun x Fem!Reader

A/N: Dedicated to smol bby @vampwrrr ’s magnificent mistresspiece Sweet Lies

Inspired by: I’m sorry about the blood in your mouth, I wish it was mine - Richard Siken +

Truly amazing, what people can get used to, as long as there are a few compensations - Margaret Atwood

Description: A headcanon exploring SL OC’s thoughts after Baekhyun’s confession.

Genre/Warnings: Dark themes, destructive thoughts, Ambiguous AU

Word count: ~ 1.3k

Mollycoddling a murderer.

This isn’t how you thought you’d react. Not in your wildest dreams. In your wildest dreams, you’d probably strike him with a vase or a glass bottle like they do in the movies: out of horror or hurt or both. His head was supposed to be on the floor, completely drained off of blood, not solaced in the comfort of your lap.

This isn’t how you were raised to react. It went against everything you ever believed to be true - the bits and pieces that made you you. The rationalization of the black and white and the in-between. But you know now that the in-between isn’t what they say it is. The in-between isn’t grey. It’s technicolour. It’s the red of passion, the blue of stability, the yellow of happiness.

They say it’s grey because they’re so terrified of their own sentiments - resisting them so vehemently. Desensitizing themselves to being almost human.

Perhaps they’ve never been in a love this…grave. Grave. You swish the word in your mouth like an ice cube, the insides of your cheeks feeling unpleasantly cold. Grave. Like it’s going to be the death of you.

This love.

You thought you had a choice in the matter. Whatever it may be, you always had a choice. The sheer ridiculousness of this thought makes you chuckle - your yeses and noes never mattered. You’ve been nothing more than a dry leaf caught in the wind. Drifting. Dancing to the whims of the air current.

Decisions, decisions.

So much wasted time on the events you had no control over: it had been one giant, extensive freefall. The happiness, the suffering. It was all beyond you. You weren’t required to piece the puzzle, only make sense of it.

Or not.

Baekhyun’s asleep, his breathing is levelled. Scarily soft. This is the calm after the storm. He’s come clean. Is this supposed to purge him of his sins?

Questions. So many questions.

Is he worthy of your trust? But, do you still hold him accountable for it? Accountable for his own actions? Maybe. Accountable for you? Questions…questions…

Dangling, devoid of control, perhaps to him you were a puppet. A plaything. Maybe his favourite plaything. Yet, just that. But does this negate his feelings? Even if it was all just an act: to lure you in, to keep you forever. Doesn’t mean it was untrue. It couldn’t have been. Not all of it.

There’s a gossamer-thin line between surreal and untrue.

You’ve always wondered, much to your detriment, if you were ever worthy of his love. Would you be able to carry the weight of this question or sink underneath it. But this question still stands: very valid in its own right. It often sprouts prickly seeds of negativity in your heart and mind. So you shove down the deepest darkest corner of your subconscious: hacking it off every time it rears its ugly head.

So, are you worthy? Have you ever been worthy? For a moment, even?

Baekhyun is the embodiment of for better, for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish…

‘til death do us part.

Maybe he’d be better qualified to gauge your worthiness. Maybe he’d even think of it as futile. Maybe none of this ever mattered to him for as long as you’d let him love you.

Truly amazing, what people can get used to, as long as there are a few compensations.

….as long as you’d let him love you. You find a juvenile sense of comfort in this idea of having some semblance of control.

So, what now? You think, stroking his pretty little head that holds secrets so profoundly tragic. How does this earthen vessel, entirely made up of milk and honey and one trauma, not disintegrate by the sheer impact of its choices?

Would anybody actually believe this? Your ever so sweet and puppy-like Baekhyun was actually capable of acts this despicable? Your saviour was also a destroyer because of the one heinous thing he witnessed. The one thing that so terribly skewed the chemical balance of his brilliant brain. But aren’t we all bent out of shape? In our own way? Who’s to be the judge of these imbalances? How much is too much? At what point do the scales tip?

If you were to turn him in, who’s to say he’d come out a changed man?

If they ever let him out, that is.

He’s not the absolute worst of the lot. He’s not a wife-beater, a cheater, or a rapist. Maybe you’re rationalizing. But some would even argue that The Reaper is actually scrubbing the earth off its scum. Is this supposed to make him a hero?

He’s no hero, he’s no vigilante.

He’s your husband.

Who’s loved you unequivocally, albeit in his own twisted way. He is your husband. And you are going to protect him. You’re not going to turn him in. You’re not losing the one person that’s loved you this catastrophically.

It all boils to one question.

“Baekhyun? Sweetheart?”

You’re as gentle as you’d be with a newborn. But he awakens with a shudder and sits across from you: hunched, cross legged, hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot, brows pinched together, lips protruding in a pout. The seam of your trousers had imprinted a reddish dent across his right cheek.

“It’s alright, puppy. It’s alright”, the tips of your fingers tenderly travel the stretch of his face: relearning, tracing his eyelashes, the curve of his lips, his jaw, his cute little nose.

“Little doe, don’t leave”, he pulls away and begins to cry, sobs muffled as he presses his face into his hands.

“I’m here, Baekhyunie. I’m here”, you grip his wrist, tugging, urging him to look at you.

“Always?”

His gaze shoots up to meet yours. Steady. Challenging.

“Baekhyun…”

“Always?”

Testing.

“Baekhyun, please…”

“Sorry, I’m sorry…I’m not right for you..I never have been. You deserve better, you deserve more! If you want to leave, I understand…”

Your skin is raw, it’s sensitive. Like you’re reborn out of red hot flames. Pure. Clean. Carrying no cuts and bruises of the past. Maybe this is what it feels like.

Being in control.

Finally.

“Baekhyun, can you stop?”

His eyes bore into yours, journeying the bottomless pit of your soul. You catch his molten chocolate irises darken in a flash. Jaw clenched, hands hardened into fists, he rasps through gritted teeth -

“No.”

You take his fists and bring them up to your lips, peppering them with soft kisses, soothing them open. Then, the tips of his fingers. Slow, deliberate pecks. His eyes, although calculating and unsure, soften again, lips ease into a mellow smile.

You make your way into his lap, cup his face, his lips barely an inch from yours. The nearly domineering grip of his arms around your waist steadying you. Inside and out.

He’s truly a work of art. Deeply unsettling, thought-provoking. An enigma. The pain that runs so deep in his blood, you wish to tear it away from him. However ruinous it may end up being. For him.

For you.

You run your thumb across his lower lip, his eyes flutter shut almost involuntarily at the contact. Blood rushes to your head as your lips crash into his and a breath escapes him in a throaty groan.

He tastes like iron.

Leisurely at first, he’s quick to match your fervour then just like that, he outpaces you, leaving you gasping for each breath. His fingers dig deep into the skin of your back. Craving, yet carrying the potential to crush your bones to dust.

You’d let him.

A/N: Thank you @changshapatrol and @vampwrrr for being my friends *pouts* i love you both very much 💕

#exosnet #exowritersnet #bbh-net #exo angst #baekhyun angst #exo smut #baekhyun smut #exo #baekhyun

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cesca-untoldstories · 3 years

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Geronimo's Cadillac It's tossing oh in your head It's tossing, it's turning It's burning, it makes you mad

THIS IS TOTALLY A WIP haha don't reblog because is ugly but here is my newborn OC hehe I need to work~ totally based him (as you can see his name) in modern talking. my russian little disaster belongs to Ivan's hands @papel-origami

Geronimo Cadillac with his sweet bby New Order.

#need to work this bby booooooy #i want him to be a comic relief #but he works for the bad ones so #hehe #jojo wip #.sketches #jojo oc #jjba oc #jojo's bizarre adventure oc

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sweetbunnykook · 4 years

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A WIP Game

Tagged by: @lemonjoonah thank you bby 🤣 I don’t know whether to thank you or start crying because my list of WIPs is...something

Rules: I post the names of all the files in my WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. then you send me an ask with the title that most intrigues/interests you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it

*Cracks fingers* Please excuse my titles, I don’t name any of them properly lmao so THESE ARE NOT THE TITLES OF THE ONESHOTS/DRABBLES/CHAPTERS 😭 I KNOW THEY’RE UGLY BEAR WITH ME

...

> “OY9“ - Jungkook x noona (Yandere boyfriend AU, chapter)

>“drglrdjk” - Jungkook x childhood friend!OC (Drug lord AU, oneshot/drabble)

>“BG8” - Seokjin, Hoseok, Yoongi x married!OC (Mafia AU, chapter)

>“The Boy” - Jungkook x dollsitter!OC (The Boy movie AU, oneshot/drabble)

>“Gold” - Jungkook x detective!noona (Adopted AU, oneshot/drabble)

>“Puppet” - Jungkook x ventriloquist!noona (Yandere ventriloquist doll AU, oneshot/drabble)

>“Love, Mom” - Jungkook x detective!noona (Adopted AU, oneshot/drabble)

>“OY Drabble” - Jungkook x noona (Yandere boyfriend AU, oneshot/drabble)

>“Bro!Jimin” - Jimin x OC (Taboo horror AU, oneshot)

>“Earl Grey” - Seokjin x janitor!OC (Chef AU, oneshot)

>“Mirror JK” - Jungkook x agoraphobic!noona (Ghost AU, oneshot)

>“Teeth” - Jungkook x pureblood vampire!noona (Vampire AU, oneshot/drabble)

>“Death” - Namjoon x OC (Grim reaper AU, oneshot/drabble)

>“AM!Jin” - Seokjin, Taehyung x married!OC (Arranged marriage AU, chapter)

>“Under the Passing Train II” - Yoongi x OC (Established relationship AU, chapter)

>“Noona years (?)” - Jungkook x noona (OY smut drabble AU, drabble)

>“Officer!Hoseok” - Hoseok x murderer!OC (Corrupt detective AU, oneshot)

>“Mechanic!Tae” - Taehyung x OC (Mechanic AU, oneshot)

> “Tae” - Taehyung x OC (Monster AU, oneshot/drabble)

>“Doctor 1” - Taehyung x chubby!OC (Established relationship AU, chapter/drabble)

>“Bonnie and Clyde pt2” - Hoseok x former prostitute!OC (Criminal AU, chapter)

>“The Monster Under Your Bed” - Taehyung x designer!OC (Yandere mannequin AU, oneshot)

>“Dracula” - Namjoon x OC (Vampire AU, oneshot/chapter)

Tagging: @mintseesaw @chimoona @ditzymax @deepdarkdelights @jkeuphoriadreamland @bang-tan-bitches @an-ambivalent and anyone who writes!!! I have the memory span of a goldfish!!!

#bunny:tagged

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writtenwhalien · 3 years

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Amelia, chapter 7 of GML had me ugly crying 😭😭😭 OC is honestly so sweet and selfless, I love how she went and was there for Jimin even though she’s still hurting about him cheating. It tells she has the purest soul and it makes me more angry at Jimin for what he did lol but I really want them to be together again, only when she’s ready.

I think now that things are a little more calm she’s being really mature acknowledging her feelings, that she loves Jimin but can’t be with him just yet.

And the poem 😭😭😭 it was so beautiful! I love that Jimin is showing his vulnerable side, with the photos and everything.

I can’t believe this series is ending!!! It’s so sad but at the same time I can’t wait to read more of your stories!!!

Have a good weekend ✨

Fran 🌻

Hey Fran!!!

Aww I’m glad you liked it! OC is definitely the sweetest given all that’s happened to her, but she’s still so loving and caring towards Jimin - she loves him 🥺🥺🥺

Honestly I’m so sad this series is coming to an end as well, but even after the epilogue, I have a drabble idea and I may come up with more, so hopefully I’ll come back to them from time to time 😌

Thank you so much for reading bby!! ❤️❤️❤️ have a wonderful weekend!

#asks #pjm give me love #fran 🌻

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

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Two Sides of the Coin (13)

Chapter 13: Strange Way of Finding Things | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

A/N: This was supposed to be a full-length flashback chapter but I looked at the word count and I just-- 😳😵😧😬 So I just decided to split it because I don’t wanna drag you guys on with more than 5000 words of a single chapter. I would’ve broken my record average word count 😜 anyway, I hope y’all are ready for the angst

Also tagging: @silver-is-in-too-many-fandoms @berenilion @justtinfoley @stellar-trinity @peterwandaparker @calgasm @queen-destenie @calsponchoemporium @cal-jestis @ayamenimthiriel @sweeetteaa @fallenjedii @superwarsofthrones

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC | Additional (last 2 tags count as TW): Nomara Anesh, Jedi Master! Fem OC, Togruta Fem OC, Jedi Seeker! Fem OC, family separation, separation anxiety

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 | Previous: Part 12 | Next: Part 14 | Masterlist

13 of ?

31 BBY

ESHYN, LAU’NON SYSTEM, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES

The clouds clear a path for the Jedi Starfighter, aboard it is the young Jedi Seeker, Nomara Anesh, one of the youngest seekers at only 34 years old.

Her aerial view of the archipelago captivated her as she flew by the land mass. The sapphire blue coastline surrounded the island, high mesas with a vast carpet of grass framed the formation while the torrential waves kissed the rigid rock faces with its ivory-white seafoam and mist.

It was simply breathtaking.

Though it saddened her that the Trade Federation has begun to press its ugly thumb into this tropical masterpiece. Prior to her visit, Nomara did her reading on the planet, its current political and economic state as well. She has always been the curious one amongst her batch—said her former master—thus resulting to her inquisitive upbringing.

“There it is, Evy,” Nomara peered through the side window of the cockpit. “Sa’Junna: where we need to be.”

She afforded another pass above the main island, searching for a safe place to land with the assistance of the astromech droid.

“Do you see anything, Evy?”

The droid, EV-65 or Evy as Nomara personally nicknamed it, chirped in excitement, equally as captivated as its Jedi owner; the droid popped out a tiny satellite from a small hatch on its dome head.

The young woman managed a smile at her droid’s happy trills, but something stirred within her as she approaches the island. The closer she got, the swirling at the pit of her stomach became stronger—though, it didn’t alarm her because she doesn’t sense anything wrong with it; nevertheless, whatever the Force was subtly telling her, it intrigued her.

“Bee-beep!!”

“Great job, Evy. Override the landing cycle now,”

“Beeep-doo!”

It took Evy a few seconds before relaying the area coordinates for a safe landing area to Nomara’s dashboard. A virtual map of the island flashed and a green blip blinked over the center section of the land mass. The Jedi followed the lead and managed to dock her ship in between the capital and a village half a mile away from each landmark. The droid remained on the ship while Nomara dismounted the vessel.

The city of Sa’Junna was developed by a civilization of old, and then later cultivated and nurtured by the past generations until the current one. Having grown and thrived for countless millennia, a great majority of the residents were humans, but other humanoids like Twi’leks and Nautolans have migrated to this idyllic sanctuary. The place appeared to have seen better days priors to the Trade Federation’s occupation.

Nomara could see the bustle of trade in the city, it wasn’t as grand as Coruscant or Naboo, but the prosperity is evident.

Upon alighting her starship, she was promptly greeted by a tall stature of a human male with a greying beard that covered half of his olive-skinned face. He gestured with open arms, welcoming the Togruta, while subtly keeping a tinge of caution in his words and actions.

Nomara bowed slowly and solemnly in greeting.

“Welcome, traveler. What is it that you seek in our already-disturbed home?”

“The exact disturbance you speak of, friend.”

The tribe leader introduced himself as Sentuk Nirmo, he governed one of the villages that networked with the main city—where most of the trade transpires. Seeing that Nomara bore better will than the Trade Federation’s emissaries, he invited her into their settlement where they could speak openly within closed walls. As they walked, Sentuk briefed Nomara of their situation.

“At first, they wanted the metal. But when they found the deeper caverns, that’s when they’ve completely sucked our mines dry! The Federation has robbed us of our own homeland.” Sentuk grieved, and then added. “They barricaded the Yishen Strait—our main trade route—from civilians and real traders. Since then, business has been slow for many of us.”

Sentuk’s voice trailed off when he noticed Nomara subtly panning her head left and right, as if searching for something. The Jedi apologized for zoning out, the tribe leader dismissed it as a fascination towards the planet as well as exhaustion—and so he invited her to their settlement. The Togruta follows the Sentuk into the village; along the way, he explains that each village has a leader which then comprises the council. With every step, the faint trace of the Force that Nomara has picked up gotten stronger.

Sentuk presented his humble home, it seems that the Federation has already left its mark in this village along with the others surrounding the capital city—Nomara looked around and found children playing out in the open, whilst weavers make baskets and rucksacks out of their looms for the hunters to store their game, other residents tend and plow their modest vegetable gardens and orchards.

“It seems so peaceful here,” Nomara’s smile faded as instantaneously as it appeared. “But I sense the distraught in these people.”

Sentuk hummed in agreement, recalling his grievance of their overall predicament. Nomara’s brows pulled together, she closed her eyes for a moment to detect that trail she’s picked up.

“There’s something else,” she mumbled so quietly that Sentuk barely heard.

The Togruta blinked her eyes open and the first thing she saw was a small girl watching the other children play—she looked like she had just learned how to stand and walk. Forgetting that she stood with the tribe leader, Nomara approached the child slowly until the girl acknowledged her with wide, quiet eyes bursting with curiosity.

She knelt down to level with the child, she offered her open palm, and without a single ounce of hesitation the toddler placed her pudgy hands on the vibrant red-skinned palm of the visitor. Their eyes met, Nomara’s heart leapt for a reason she can’t explain, her lips involuntarily curled and by impulse, her fingers folded around the soft, tender hand.

“Jidné!” a melodic voice beckoned from the cottage.

Both Nomara and the child turned to the direction of the voice, it was the mother. Nomara slowly hoisted herself back to her full height, when the mother stepped out of the doorway of their home, two more little girls followed behind her—presumably the little one’s older sisters—but they kept themselves close by the skirt of their mother, intrigued and at the same time shy of the unusual-looking visitor.

“I’m sorry, I just…” stammered the Jedi softly. “Your daughter.”

The mother flashed a friendly smile, “Yes, what about her?”

“She’s strong with the Force. For someone so little, she carries a significant amount of it within her.”

The woman immediately got the hint, she’s heard the stories, though this is the first time she’s met one in the flesh. Her eyes wandered to the waistband of the Togruta’s robes and spotted the silver hilt shimmering, dominating the neutral colors of her clothes.

“You’re a Jedi, aren’t you?”

“Yes, my name is Nomara Anesh,” the Jedi bowed her head briefly as soon as she uttered her own name.

“My name is Tymara Sheedra, I see you have met my little Jidné,” the woman peeked over the backside of her skirt, spotting her two other daughters, she introduced Krea and Maryn—aged eleven and eight respectively. The girls greeted the Togruta who beamed a gentle smile at them as she returned the gesture.

Nomara clarified that she was a Seeker and stated her purpose to Tymara, the Togruta’s emotions synched with the other woman’s—that friendly smile reduced into a poker face and then replaced with a blank smile.

“Um… Why don’t we talk inside? I just finished making supper,” Tymara invited the guest into her house, who politely obliged despite the tension.

The single-storey cottage was quaint, although each room was cramped and limiting to a number of persons inside. The kitchen was in the same space as the dining table—which lacked chairs and had woven cushions and mantles in its place. If one is to peek a little bit to their right, they could see the bedroom—the girls’ beds were thick-enough cushions each sitting atop a wooden frame, whilst the parents’ bed is settled on another side of the room; the only thing distinguishing the “rooms” was a wooden divider panel.

Nomara wagered this house couldn’t fit any more family members, Jidné would be the live marker of the home’s limit. She settled herself by the table—across where she sat, the three girls played in a small space that only fit them perfectly without needing to duck or crouch, the two older sisters watched with great fascination as Jidné lift a doll off the floor without touching it, Nomara watched intently along with them.

Tymara offered her a bowl of broth and bread on the side.

“I’m really sorry about our house. It’s not exactly much, isn’t it?” Tymara initiated quite apologetically, poking the bits of meat in the soup.

“I don’t mind,” Nomara awkwardly chuckled, parroting Tymara’s nervous poking before scooping up a spoonful and then bringing it into her mouth.

“What is it that you Seekers do?”

“We search the galaxy for Force-sensitive children. We bring them to the Jedi Temple in Coruscant and then train them into becoming Jedi Knights like myself.”

Tymara bit her lip and gawked emotionlessly at her food, it took her a good minute before she started to touch her food again. She spoke again, but didn’t face Nomara when she did.

“Have you come for her?”

The Jedi’s head perked to the mother, Tymara let the bottom of the spoon float above the soup—sensing her fluctuating appetite swirling together with the anxiety slowly eating away her mind; Nomara inhaled deeply, ceasing to touch her food to find the right words to say.

“Not specifically. I didn’t even know it was her until I… well, found her. The Force—or perhaps the universe—has a strange way of showing things we need to see when we least expect it, no matter how difficult it is to accept the signs.”

“And this Force… showed you to my daughter?”

“It would appear so,”

“Are you going to take her from me?”

“I wouldn’t force it,” Nomara replied somberly, as if understanding the grief of separation. In a way, she has felt that in one way or another.

There was silence, even the girls have purposefully hushed their voices and giggling to secretly listen to their conversation between the guest and their mother—even the little, two-year-old Jidné followed suit of her sisters.

“Eshyn isn’t what it used to be anymore, this was my home, and my husband’s, and our parents…” Tymara mumbled, watching her daughters resume playing. “We thought the Federation would make us prosper—because that’s what they promised us. You could imagine how stupid we all felt when the Trade Federation delivered the perfect opposite of what they told us. Ever since then, life has been hard for all of us. Especially the children—even if they don’t see it that way, at least not yet.”

Nomara understood Tymara’s sentiments, after all, she is a mother just looking for out for children and wanting what’s only best for them. The collective giggling of the girls was the only thing that warmed the abode today.

“Where’s their father?”

Tymara’s clasped fingers tightened around one another, she breathed deeply and bit her lip before she spoke a word.

“I lost him to a mining accident… because they wanted more metal. That’s all we ever heard from them. More metal. More work. More yields.”

“I’m sorry,” Nomara averted her gaze to the food that had now gone cold.

Little Jidné approached the table, specifically to Nomara’s side. She waddled towards the Jedi, the baby stared and studied the vibrant indigo patterns of the montrals while feeling its texture; then her pudgy paws found the tassel of turquoise beads that framed the side of the Togruta’s face, mistaking it for a toy. The two women giggled, endeared the little one’s innocence as Jidné continued to lightly swat the accessory and watch it dangle, immediately and easily entertained. Eventually, her sisters joined in and bombarded the Togruta with questions of wonderment—to name a few, they asked her where her species lived, if the white patterns on their faces were actual skin or tattoos, and how long can their montrals grow.

Nomara is simply overwhelmed by the cheeriness of these three girls combined, but the unexplainable lightness of Jidné prevailed. She knew it was the girl’s Force energy, but also the purity of her heart and spirit.

Tymara smiled at the sight of her youngest daughter getting along too easily with their visitor, but it was a sad smile—in her mind, she was already arguing against herself for the betterment of her youngest. With the occupation rendering them dirt poor and being a single parent, she had to make the toughest decision of her life. It took Tymara the entire evening to let it sink into her and toughen herself up even though she’s already falling apart because of their economic state.

By sunset, the entire village was rattled by the presence of the Trade Federation emissaries and their guards—a small unit of battle droids. What barred them from taking a step further into the settlement is Sentuk, with his warriors and hunters united to making a barricade out of themselves to protect their home.

“Not one step further!” Sentuk bellowed.

“I am sure you are aware of your settlement’s dues, old man,” the Neimoidian official flapped its trouty lips at the tribe leader.

“Your demands do not have a single drop of realism in them! You demand large yields over a short period of time, not even the manpower of two villages combined can make that quota,”

“Yeah, with what you’ve done with our mines—that quota is ridiculous!” added a spear-wielding warrior standing beside Sentuk and the men behind them murmured in agreement.

“Is your brain smaller than what it appears?!” taunted another man in the barricade, the joke was received differently from each party.

Vexed and provoked, the Neimoidian emissary raised a finger at Sentuk.

“I have given you more than enough time for that quota and you have failed me once more! I told you what would come to you should you not do what you are asked!”

A hasty wave of the hand prompted the guards to aim their rifles at the people making up the human barricade, the people in the village shrieked in fright—many of which have already retreated into their homes but peered through their windows. Nomara, who had been observing the sour exchange between the leader and the slimy emissary, rushed into the scene a split second after the command to fire has been given—killing off five of the men already and fatally wounding Sentuk after being shot in the side of his stomach.

“Jedi!? Here!?” the Neimodian screeched in a panic.

All of the villagers completely retreated into their homes—including Tymara and the girls—while Nomara aided the warriors in eradicating the battle droids, leaving the empty-handed emissary standing amongst the pile of dead clankers. Completely befuddled and frightened for his life, Nomara had him at swordpoint.

“I… I didn’t give the order! I’m just a messenger…!” he whimpered and his sheer terror had unconsciously dragged his legs to make him run away, leaving the wake of the ruined droids behind him.

When the tension eased, Nomara quickly turned her attention to the wounded Sentuk. A group of people have already gathered around him.

“Bring him to your healer, quickly now!”

The group carried their leader by the feet and underneath his arms, they briskly brought him to the cottage of the village healer while Nomara caught her breath and examined the droids’ remains. She felt the gaze of Tymara piercing right through her, she found the mother and children huddled by the doorway after the skirmish; Nomara saw the sad, disdainful sigh of the mother as she herded her children back into the house again.

After tucking the girls to bed, Tymara joined Nomara who was overlooking the coastline; the ocean breeze made the ladies’ robes and skirt billow wildly above the grass. There was a voiceless banter between the women, as if they have already began this conversation in their minds and linked it to each other.

“Will she be taken care of?” Tymara blurted.

Taken aback by the question, Nomara turned her head to the mother and stared at her for a long moment, unaware that her lips have parted due to the surprise. She turned her eyes back to the ocean slowly being devoured by the evening’s darkness.

“What?”

“Jidné. If you bring her with you, to become a Jedi, will she be taken care of?”

“Tymara, a Jedi’s hard life is a hard life,” Nomara shifted her body to face Tymara. “Jidné will have to grow up facing a lot of dangers as she grows up if she comes with me.”

Tymara bitterly chuckled, more of a nasal exhalation than an actual laugh, “Better than scratching the earth for her next meal. At least I know that she lives fighting for something honorable.”

“What about you? And Krea and Maryn?”

“We’ll manage. They’ve already learned how to loom and tend farms, they know their craft well. But for Jidné, well…” Tymara licked her lips. “This will always be her home, but I know she’s made for something greater. I just know it. You can never underestimate a mother’s intuition.”

Nomara smiled, although sadly, mostly for Tymara and the girls. Having nothing more to say, the two of them continued to look into the horizon, finding an individual sort of comfort underneath the pale blue moonlight.

“No, I suppose not.”

That night, Tymara snuck upon her sleeping daughters, but fixated her eyes on the youngest—plump cheeks squished against the pillow, her round and supple belly rising and falling as she slept, and her twitching eyelids made Tymara wonder what the little one could be dreaming of. She knelt down by Jidné’s bedside, her hands smoothly glided over her soft head and fine head of dark hair, and leaned forward to kiss Jidné’s forehead—it was a long kiss, and even after she pulled her lips away, the roundness of the baby’s cheek perfectly fit the curve of Tymara’s nose bridge, inhaling Jidné’s infant scent.

The woman bit her lip as she battled with her tears. It’s going to be a long night for Tymara.

Nomara watched from the open doorway, arms crossed with each other, there was a heavy gloom around the house that suffocated her—not even sighing deeply helped. She retired to the space in the bedroom that Tymara had personally fixed up for her.

In the morning of their departure, Tymara held her youngest daughter for the final time and rocked her as if putting her to sleep. Her sisters, as well, bade their own tearful goodbyes to their baby sister, ceaselessly riddling her plump cheeks with kisses and leaving tears stains upon her skin—in a way, Jidné is lucky that she is unaware that this is the sorrow of parting.

Tymara nuzzled her cheek against Jidné’s smooth forehead. One last embrace and a kiss buried into the crook of the child neck; with her eyes closed, she imagined how Jidné would grow up to be—but she’s completely certain that she’d grow up to be a strong, courageous woman—and she painted a mental picture of how her daughter would look like once she’s come of age.

In a prayerful solemnity, Tymara whispered all of her wishes for Jidné to Jidné herself—be strong and brave yet remain kind, wise, and gentle; make good friends with the other children if she meets any; listen well to the instructions of the elders; and most importantly, listen to her heart.

Tymara savored this last moment, Nomara was kind enough to give all the time she needs—the Togruta passed the time by prepping her Starfighter and doing the necessary maintenance checks before takeoff.

“I love you… I love you so much, my darling girl,” Tymara feigns a brave face. She held Jidné right in front of her, then Jidné’s pudgy hands caressed both of her cheeks, and that’s when she lost it—tears streamed down her cheeks, wetting the child’s tiny fingers.

The true, final embrace and kiss from her mother before Jidné is transferred to the arms of Nomara Anesh.

“You have my word. She’ll be treated well.”

“I know,” muttered Tymara quite weakly, rubbing her arms together to whisk away the cold goosebumps pelting her skin. “I know.”

Tymara watches her daughter walk away in the arms of the Togruta. She watches a part of her heart and soul shrink in the distance, unaware eyes looking over the shoulder of the Seeker and back into the grieving eyes of her mother. Tymara’s hand flinched into a short-lived wave and quickly brought them to her lip, biting into her fingernails until her daughter has fully disappeared in a ship with Nomara and out of Eshyn.

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