#oc amaranth elsheva

[naberiie]

lekku headcanons that no one asked for

while asleep/cuddling, lekku will wrap around close partners’/bunkmates’ limbs (most often arms) or, if partners/bunkmates also have lekku, they’ll intertwine around each other

if lonely or stressed, someone’s lekku might curl around their own arms while they sleep

massive faux pas to touch lekku without explicit permission, as this is seen as an extraordinarily intimate gesture - some parts of the lekku are more Off Limits than others, i.e. the underside and close to the base of the skull

especially those two - underside and close to skull - are erogenous zones. no touching without explicit permission, and even then move with care - they are VERY sensitive

...which can also be used for fun :)

massaging lekku is one of the most intimate things one can do for a partner with lekku

on the other end of the spectrum: grabbing and yanking someone’s lekku can cause temporary swelling, hearing loss, and - if pulled very hard/for a prolonged period of time - can lead to permanent brain issues

lekku ‘socks’ (or lekku-warmers) for keeping lekku warm and/or cuddling/napping with a person with whom they don’t feel close enough to literally bare their lekku. good for cuddlepuddles, arguably the entire reason they exist in the first place

the fattier and longer the lekku, the more attractive they are to other twi’leks/togrutas - it’s a status symbol

there are cosmetic procedures to modify both of these

the oldest and most powerful clans have lekku-jewelry version of their clan’s kalikori - elaborate and intricately carved pieces of thinly hammered metal linked together with delicate chains and decorated with precious jewels

some of these are now too long to be worn without dragging onto the floor, and are valuable pieces of twi’lekki history that are stored in safe places across the galaxy in order to keep them safe

some of these kalikori headdresses and lekku jewelry can be seen depicted in ancient art on ryloth, and their physical counterparts still exist!

lekku can be used to stim! swaying, twisting, wrapping together, etc

a person might pull their lekku in front of their shoulders to stroke them for comfort

the sign of an extremely good liar is the ability to keep lekku utterly still during conversations, because otherwise it’s easy to get a general sense of the state of their emotions from how the lekku move

#twi'lek #togruta #twi'leks #togrutas #sw species #sw worldbuilding #this is how i'm distracting myself from my return to work anxiety #campaignverse #oc amaranth elsheva #ama's super vain abt her lekku and once someone asked if she got them Touched Up and it's the closest she's ever come to willingly fighting- #-a stranger in the streets #this is longer than i thought it would be. apologies #and last one i don't want to put in the post: #lekku tips curl up in on themselves in a nautilus shell pattern during sex

[evaceratops]

the campaignverse gang in: the goatman’s bridge

feat. azlin [mine], misi [@mandowo], volya [@zoriis], brider [@stxrduste], and amaranth [@naberiie]

azlin: you know what, volya?

azlin: i’m not trying to scare you, but i got a bad feeling about this one.

volya: shut up.

misi: any demons here? got any demons out tonight?

misi: any horny boys, or whatever they-

azlin: horny boys?

misi: they got horns!

brider: why are you on this bridge?

[silence]

brider:

brider, to azlin: you ask questions.

azlin: why are you on this bridge?

[silence]

misi: goatman!

misi: you feel that? you feel the goatman energy?

volya: i don’t like when you say his name.

misi: feel some goat vibes?

misi: you may not like this, i’m gonna try and agitate it. i’m just gonna go-

brider: you do what you gotta do, and we’ll do what we gotta do.

misi: i’m just gonna be as crude as possible here.

volya: cool.

misi:

misi: FUCK YOU, GOATMAN!

amaranth: holy shit, dude!

misi: is that good?

amaranth: i thought you were gonna build your way up.

misi: no, no, no. just right out of the gate. why build up?

azlin: goatman, i’m dancing on your bridge! it’s my bridge now!

volya: holy shit-

azlin: you hear that? you want me off this bridge, you’re gonna have to kill me!

amaranth: holy shit!

azlin: you’re gonna have to throw me off this bridge yourself!

brider: he did throw somebody off the bridge once.

azlin: look at the way i dance on it. i disrespect your bridge, goatman!

amaranth: he’s takin’ names right now.

misi: you hear that, goatman?

misi: me and azlin and the archivists own your bridge!

volya: no, don’t loop me into your shit! stop looping me, i hate when you do this-

azlin: well, then, tell him! tell him you’re not part of this.

volya: i’m not part of their little charade.

azlin: you’re talkin’ to goatman now.

volya:

volya: i see what you’ve done.

misi: it’s goatman entrapment.

misi: goatman?

volya: i’m not with him!

misi: they’re gonna put my name in graffiti.

volya: oh my god, okay-

misi: children will come here and tell tales of me!

brider: alright, goatman.

brider: goddamnit.

misi: talkin’ to the goatman. opening up a line of communication. master windu would be very disappointed.

brider: shut the fuck up. i’m gonna murder you.

brider: i’m gonna knock on your bridge.

brider: [knock] [knock] [knock]

brider: it’s said when you do that, you can see his glowing eyes. 

brider: someone said they saw him standing on the… [illuminates the riverbank with her torch]

brider: alright, idiot. it’s your turn.

misi:

azlin: oh, skip the theatrics and just go into it.

misi: hey, goatman. [three quick knocks]

[silence]

misi: y’know, if you want me off your bridge, you’re gonna have to throw me off.

[silence]

azlin: alright. we’ll come back for you.

azlin: let’s go into the woods.

amaranth: ooh.

misi: we’ll be back, goatman. after all, this is our bridge now.

brider: okay.

azlin: that’s how you get ‘em.

volya: i don’t- no, that’s not how you get them. shut up.

azlin: you gotta admit, that’s an effective-

volya: no, it’s not an effective technique! it’s a way to get killed!

misi: he’s probably getting upset though.

brider: this is a serious thing!

amaranth: hello? is there anything out here?

misi: HEWWO?

azlin: jedi usually feel overcome with emotion in here. like a violent emotion.

amaranth: … do you feel that?

azlin: no. 

amaranth: okay, good.

azlin: not yet, at least.

amaranth: give me a heads up if any of you start to feel murderous. i would appreciate that.

brider: this is a doorway we’re opening. we’re calling for all the everything to come here, is what we’re doing.

misi: is there a technique here?

brider: you just rest your hands on it and you kinda let your energy flow through it. and it’ll start to move.

azlin: is there anybody out here?

azlin: what’s your name?

[silence]

brider: no.

brider: are you moving it there?

misi: i’m not moving it. i’m just sittin’.

misi:

misi: hey, you demon fuck!

brider: by the Force!

misi: i wanted to catch him off guard.

azlin: well, we have an S.

misi: we got an S.

azlin: if you can’t spell your name, this bridge is officially ours. they’ll tell legends of us here.

azlin: for a second there i thought it was going towards G, but it looks like it’s F.

misi:

misi: fuck yooou!

azlin: [laughs]

brider: alright. this is your last chance, demon. if you’re here, tell us your name.

misi: and again, you know the deal.

brider: i guess- if you don’t tell us your name, then it’s gonna be azlin and misi’s bridge.

misi: it’s our bridge now.

[silence]

amaranth: well!

misi: my bridge! ouija boards suck.

volya: we gotta close it.

misi: goodbye!

azlin: as we snuff these candles, so, too, do we snuff you from this mortal world.

azlin: [blows candle out]

azlin: you fuckin’ wimp.

amaranth: gods, azlin.

#shitpost #campaignverse #oc azlin eko #oc misi #oc volya doneeta #oc brider surriss #oc amaranth elsheva #incorrect quotes #my posts #THIS TOOK ME A FULL HOUR AND A HALF

[evaceratops-art]

stress relief doodling/expression practice feat. @naberiie’s wonderful ocs whomst i should be kept away from at all costs because they don’t deserve this

#i was gonna do kass and azlin too but. too lazy #shocking considering distressed kass is my whole brand rn #i haven’t victimized azlin yet but she can’t hide from me forever #maybe i’ll add them later :> #star wars #campaignverse #others’ ocs #oc beau #oc amaranth elsheva

[hermitmoss]

inktober 3: @naberiie‘s amaran’thelsheva at a rebellion-heroes-only party, hosted by mon mothma!

EDIT: FIXED HER HEADDRESS AND THE BG

#braigwen does inktober #inktober 2018 #oc: amaranth elsheva #I LOVE HERRR #i hope u like this mary! #* #my art #star wars #ot #swr #campaign: Force Bullshit

[naberiie]

📔 📔📔 tell me everythinggg

i know i've talked about it before but: amaranth being escorted by a squad of purge troopers to distant orbital jedi temples after order 66, because as a non-jedi archivist who worked at the coruscant temple, she's the only one left in the galaxy with expertise required for those collections, and palpatine wants the best loot. there's lots of force bullshit that goes on, including but not limited to the temple physically shutting out the purge troopers from its archives because "it knows you're not safe."

another one that has even less work was one that i was intending to write for a friend eons ago but never got around to: rogue one where they survive and take the death star plans themselves instead of beaming it up to leia's ship. that means that alderaan, in that universe, would never have been destroyed. i've lost most of the notes for this one but it was a cassian x jyn slow burn, in addition to the always fun post-heist running away from the empire and trying to help the rebellion

last is a sequel to from which stars - fives and rabe go on the run to figure out the implications of the chips and also get involved in an underground fighting ring at one point to get money. if this one comes to life it will be about ten times shorter than fws has ended up being!

#daydreamed fics game #ask games #thank you!! #oc amaranth elsheva #handmaiden rabé #arc trooper fives #brevity is the soul of wit #anonymous

[naberiie]

on the topic of extremely self-indulgent fics:

i’ve had this idea of amaranth, post-order 66, being sent to a some extremely remote jedi temple with a squadron of purge troopers to appraise the archives there. as the only non-jedi archivist who worked with jedi materials, she’s now the only person who can really do the job without, y’know, being killed by the empire. but this temple KNOWS, it’s alive and it actively antagonizes the troopers because it knows who they are and their roles in the deaths of the jedi and so the temple itself is literally the antagonist that’s haunting amaranth and this squadron of troopers

#oc amaranth elsheva #haunted places #constructed consciousness #jedi temples #purge troopers #<- who make me very very sad

[naberiie]

ama and misi sharing a bed maybe,,,,,,, i am soft for the them

The nightmares were very loud tonight. He was in her head, whispering and smiling his horrible dangerous smile, and Amaranth pressed her forehead onto her folded arms, willing him to get out of her head. Curled into a ball, tight as she could fold her body, pressed into the corner of the bunk, but he still slunk through the gaps in her mind until she wanted to vomit - maybe that would get him out of her head, maybe that would make everything quiet again.

She had known that, eventually, this would happen. Sooner or later. She’d told Chyth, Gavri’el, Virus, and Rang what had happened, she’d told them what she’d done. She’d told them why she’d done it. It made sense, she supposed, that giving voice to her secret would make him ooze out of the mental place she’d locked it away in.

She just wanted to sleep until she could get it back under control. If only Azlin were here… but she’d been called away on some mission.

Amaranth felt terribly, dreadfully alone.

There was a quiet knock on her door.

She froze. The barracks were under this room, she knew; had she woken some of the troopers up? She tried to keep her tears quiet - maybe it hadn’t been enough-

“Ama, it’s me.”

All the tension in her body fled at once and she slowly sat up, wiping her eyes. “Misi?” Her voice was hoarse, cracked. “H-hold on.”

She managed to get out of bed, noticing the time as she did - a little after one in the morning. She’d slipped to her room early that night, immediately after dinner, because she’d felt this panic bubbling up from her guts. She hadn’t wanted to bother anyone. When she opened the door, Misi stood in front of her, a blanket thrown over his shoulder and a pillow tucked under his arm. She stared at him, confused.

He gave her a warm, concerned smile that almost made her cry all over again. “Hi. I figured you didn’t want to be alone right now. Is it okay if I sleep here tonight?”

She stared at him and then asked in that quiet voice, “Was it… you sensed… uhm. T-the Force?”

He nodded, and she stepped to the side to let him in. He made his way straight towards the other bed and set up there, and Ama perched on the edge of hers, watching. He was already quieter, in her mind. Like Misi’s appearance had scared him back towards the locked place in her mind - not all the way, not yet. She was glad Misi was here, but it wasn’t... enough.

“Misi? Can I…” she shifted, and then pointed to his bed, before pulling one lek over her shoulder and holding it against her chest. He patiently waited while she found the words. “Can we. Can we share? Sorry, I just don’t… I don’t want to be alone. Not tonight.”

He smiled so gently at her that she had to look away, digging through her clothes to find a pair of lekku-warmers. “Of course. That’s how the troopers sleep, too, most of the time. It feels more secure like that.”

That’s exactly what she needed right now. He let her get in first, so she was against the wall, let her get settled and comfortable. As he turned off the lights, he said quietly, “If it gets bad again, wake me up. We’ll work through it, okay?”

She nodded and curled in close to his chest as he settled in the bed next to her. It was dark, but she wasn’t alone anymore. She fell asleep listening to his quiet breaths, secure and safe next to him, safer than she’d felt in a long time.

She didn’t have any more nightmares.

#brevity is the soul of wit #anonymous #warm up prompts #writing this one made me cry #campaignverse #misi #oc amaranth elsheva #implied abuse #implied abuse cw #i just *clenches fists* love them so fuCKINg much

[naberiie]

"would some tea help?" + ama & any of the gangTM?

The ceiling of the ancient temple loomed above them, their small fire on the verge of being swallowed by the absolute darkness that had reigned here for millennia. Ama picked up a handful of Tython’s rubble, long reduced to pebbles, and let the fine stones slip between her fingers. 

“It feels like we’re barely allowed here,” Volya admitted quietly, shifting as she gazed up, up, up into unknowable darkness. They’d already been descending for the better half of the day, and had stopped to take a quick break. Most of the others were dozing in the same way a clip rested in a blaster: ready to spring into action at the merest twitch of necessity. “Like this place is taunting us, almost.”

The three archivists were huddled together, speaking as quietly as they could, both in order to not disturb the ones who rested and the dark stillness itself.

“Yes,” Brider agreed in a soft voice. “I’m worried that it wants us to see its heart, that we’re approaching the… event horizon, as it were.”

Amaranth shivered and couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder. She wasn’t sensitive, but even she could feel the eyes of something watching the party pick their careful way down the ruins. The fire popped and crackled, the sound muffled, almost nervous. 

Her lekku prickled with unease, and she suddenly had to divert the conversation away from its current path. She twisted behind herself and pulled her pack forward, setting it in her lap and noisily opening it as she dug through the contents. “This sort of talk won’t help us,” she said briskly, in her most confident voice. She thought she saw the troopers, the General, glance her way - as if she’d broken some sort of rule by speaking confidently, even as false as it sounded to her own ears. “I think some tea would help us. At least help settle some nerves.”

Volya perked up. “You brought tea!”

Ama nodded and pulled out the tall canteen. “It put the tea bags in last night, so it’s been steeping since then.” She opened her mouth to apologize for it being tepid, almost chilly - but the canteen was warm to the touch. It burned her fingertips. It almost beat in time with her own heart, warm and… and alive… Like something had kept it purposefully hot, in all those hours. That wasn’t possible…

“Something the matter?” Brider asked, worried.

Ama forced herself to brighten, to remain confident and cool and collected, even though touching the canteen made her want to throw it to the shadows. “I was just trying to figure out how strong it will be,” she said, and hoped her smile was convincing enough. She didn’t know what she would do if the Jedi got unnerved. If they were scared of this place… but she could keep their spirits up, in any small way she could think of, and maybe that would be enough. 

She brought out some of the travel cups, and handed one each to Volya and Brider before turning to the rest of the company. One of the troopers accepted the offer, and when she poured the still-steaming cup for him, she saw his expression falter, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion - but he simply nodded his thanks and raised it to his lips without a word. Volya exclaimed over the taste and smell, how it seemed to chase dangerous thoughts away.

The silence still pressed down on them. Ama drank the tea, and wondered, privately, who had kept it warm for her.

#brevity is the soul of wit #bellsofstjohn #warm up prompts #campaignverse #oc amaranth elsheva #oc volya doneeta #oc brider surris #long post //

[naberiie]

“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

[naberiie]

(rose) lantern slides

In the spirit of Pullman, some brief moments, scenes, and memories of Amaranth’s family restaurant, down on Coruscant level 2555:

Beneath the mismatched hanging lanterns and threadbare (well worn) embroidered silks that hang from the walls, hand-painted murals of Ryloth’s landscapes - rolling deserts and steep canyons, homesteads and farms and villages and temples and cities - hide like a dream, half-forgotten and beloved. Amaranth’s father, Kyolli, painted them, adding new details every time the Elsheva clan grew. One of the tiny dwellings is the home from which he was stolen as a child. He has not told his children which one it is, and they have stopped demanding to know. 

[-]

Ever since he was a child, Beau has ordered the same dish. Amaranth’s mother Laelith always teases him that it’s a simple enough dish that he should be able to figure it out and cook it himself. He has, but he likes it best with the company and cheer of the Rose Lantern around him.

[-]

Jazmine can still say exactly where she was sitting, on exactly which floor cushion (dark blue with faded stenciled lemons) at exactly which table when she received the news that she’d made it into the Coruscant Ballet Company. The wall next to it has a little dent from the champagne cork when Beau had gotten a little overeager in his attempts to wrangle the celebratory bottle open.

[-]

When she was little and couldn’t sleep, and didn’t want to wake her siblings or parents, Amaranth would sneak down to the restaurant, pile the biggest, plushiest cushions she could drag together, and curl up underneath the silks and dark lanterns and painted landscapes on the walls. She’d wonder about a planet she’d never seen - but had always somehow known - until she fell asleep, and dreamed about rolling deserts and steep canyons. Now, on some sleepless nights, she still wishes she could. She still dreams of a painted Ryloth.

#oc amaranth elsheva #campaignverse #oc beau #oc jazmine #oc kyolli elsheva #oc laelith elsheva #thinking abt the rose lantern always makes me feel 😌🥰😊 inside

[naberiie]

first steps.

Amaranth thought she knew what plants looked like; what they were supposed to look like. She’d read about them, seen a few straggly, mutated more-gray-than-green twigs here and there in the lower levels. She’d seen them in holovids and pics, of course, and she’d known that any plants that were able to scrape a living from the smog-infested duracrete and durasteel levels of Coruscant were smaller, sickly versions of their true selves. She knew that, on an intellectual level.

But it didn’t click until they were stepping off onto the planet – her first time off Coruscant, ever – and the bright brilliant sunlight hit the tops of an emerald green canopy so thick and so dark and so lush with life that the sight of it nearly knocked the wind out of her lungs. 

She felt like an infant, standing there dumbstruck while the Jedi and clones moved around her, gathering supplies or checking equipment or just talking to each other, laughing and joking about the mysterious mission ahead of them. She knew that it was a dangerous mission – look at the squad of troopers getting ready to carry out the mission with us, look at the fact that there’s a Jedi Shadow here on the Council’s orders – but Ama’s fingers and lekku tingled with a quiet moment of absolute, awe-inspiring, intense realization that she’d never truly seen greenery. Not ever, not once, in all her life.

The thought made her joyful to see it all now, spread so beautifully out around her – and it made her inexplicably heartbroken, too.

They’d landed in a small clearing, but even underfoot, she saw tiny green shoots and curling new leaves and the colors of life that she’d been closed off from for her entire life. She stood off to the side as the others prepared their gear to head out, not watching them, but watching the wind through the broad leaves of the trees that towered almost as tall as her apartment building. She wrapped her arms around herself, gazing wide-eyed at the plants and flowers that, to the others, was merely background noise.

She didn’t want to make a fool of herself, but every fiber of her being was fighting to resist the urge to touch every single plant that she could see. Brider and Volya wouldn’t tease her – or maybe they would, but just a little – but the others…? How was she supposed to convince a Shadow, a General, a battalion of troopers, that she deserved to be here, that she could help, if she ran around like a child, grabbing at branches and flowers and leaves? Everything was draped in bright gold sunshine, and it made her heart ache for things she’d never had.

Ama glanced around the camp before tentatively reached out to touch the big flat leaf of what she assumed was a young tree, or maybe it was a fern? She ran her fingers over the edge and smiled at how cool it was to the touch, how thick and not at all as fragile as she’d expected it to be. How dull Coruscant would seem now, how barren and dirty her home on Level 2555 would feel now.

She wasn’t ashamed of Nalyova, but… well.

Her heart constricted a little.

She bit down feelings of bitterness and inadequacy and that ancient desire to just lay down in a patch of sunlit grass. No time for that, now. She gathered her resolve, and hoped the others – all of them much more prepared, more experienced, used to the sights of different planets and used to the sight of actual healthy lush flora – didn’t notice how utterly overwhelmed she’d been from the first step she’d taken down the ramp. She wasn’t used to standing on true earth, real earth. 

But, Amaranth resolved, steeling herself for whatever lay ahead, I’m going to do my best.

#naberiie writes fanfic #star wars #oc amaranth elsheva #campaignverse #long post // #misi #oc azlin eko #oc volya doneeta #oc brider surris #sw #hallo it's Lov My Girl hours

[naberiie]

me: 😔

me: [thinks about how ama killed her abuser]

me: 😌

#that was very galaxy brain of me #if i do say so myself #oc amaranth elsheva #campaignverse

[naberiie]

inherit their fight, inherit their storm.

For @finnreyfridays‘ storm theme. 1k.

Having the Skywalker twins as their Jedi Masters meant that, more often than not, Finn and Rey’s training focused on vastly different things. Yes, Luke taught them both the proper forms, the ancient movements. But under Leia’s tutelage, Finn’s natural skills at diplomacy only sharpened, and Rey found a familiar and comfortable weight in her new double-bladed saber as Luke pushed her through combat training after exercise after simulation. The Force was her companion, a warm presence by her side at all times, one who saw the hidden currents of worlds both seen and unseen, who augmented her tactical strategies, her understanding of battles and enemies. But with Finn, the Force attuned him to the feelings and thoughts and wants and needs of other beings – it bolstered his natural warmth, his bone-deep desire to help those in need.

A piece of Anakin Skywalker’s crystal – augmented with the crystal she’d found herself, on Ilum’s shattered remains – hummed inside the hilt of Rey’s saber; its twin resided in Finn’s, and when they dueled under Luke’s careful eye, it was as if that generations-old kyber knew that its other half was near. Their strikes were firmer, bolder, more confident.

Like their crystals, when Finn and Rey were together, they were powerful on their own. But when they came together, when they worked together – it was as if the Force itself sang for them. Her head was clearer, her senses brighter, when Finn stood by her side.

Luke, who’d read the texts – who’d read any text on the Jedi he had been able to get his hands on – said Rey was receiving the training of a Guardian, and Finn, that of a Consular.

Leia had joked that she was actually training up a new class of Senators who would wield lightsabers instead of their words – but her eyes sparkled with quiet, intense pride whenever she looked at Finn.

Their separate titles meant little to Rey. If she was a Guardian, fine; but she was the Guardian to Finn’s Consular, and she went where he went.

And right now, that meant Kamino.

They were sitting on an abandoned landing pad outside of Tipoca City, watching its faint, dim lights, planning their next move. Gathering their courage. Once home to the clone troopers of legend, refurbished to train the kidnapped and stolen children who were to fill the ranks of the First Order’s armies.

A new level of sick and wrong, Rey thought, reaching out to take Finn’s clammy hands. She breathed in, out, slowly – his anxiety beat against his skull like a quickened heartbeat, and she wanted to ease his pain.

Rey had seen little of the galaxy, but she was absolutely certain that of all the planets in the galaxy, named and unnamed, known and unknown, Kamino stood as Jakku’s stark and direct opposite.

To a girl raised among Jakku’s endless dunes of sand, Kamino seemed like it was drowning under the weight of its storms.

It terrified her; it seemed unnatural. The ocean rose in angry, frothy swells, it threatened to swallow everything – and the city was perched on stilts. Rain battered against their ship as they flew in under the best cloaking the Resistance could spare – Rose had worked her fingers numb to get them what they needed – and it wasn’t the enormity of what they were about to do that scared Rey the most. It was the storm that had stolen her breath, had made her heart clench in fear. It was fierce and unrelenting and howling, bitterly angry, full of unbridled fury.

And they were going to breach it.

Finn’s jaw was clenched tight at the sight of the city before them, sweat glistening on his forehead as his fingers moved mechanically over the blaster in his hands. He must’ve cleaned it three dozen times as Rey had flown them in, jumping hyperspace routes so as not to be traced back to D’Qar.

Finn hadn’t been raised here, but he’d traveled to all of the ‘recruitment centers’ with Phasma when he had first been marked for a General’s track. There were dozens of them all throughout the galaxy, operating discreetly, training – brainwashing – ranks of stormtroopers, but Finn had wanted to start here, on Kamino, because of that old archive he’d stumbled across one day.

The one dedicated to the clone troopers.

For days, he’d watched nothing but the decades-old interviews, read nothing but their words, their stories, their memories, their bitter regrets, their triumphs, their art hopes dreams fears anger... It was massive, files upon files and branches upon branches – and yet Rey had gotten the feeling that it was incomplete, that it had always been destined to be incomplete, despite the best efforts of the archivist and her volunteer team of troopers, whose admin notes Finn still stumbled across from time to time. Questions, requests to bolster this or that’s security, notes to fill this section out more, interview this squad when they were next on leave – and inside jokes between a group of people long gone.

It gave her chills. Like listening to ghosts.

Finn had inhaled it, and the night he’d read the last scrap of information about his predecessors, at three in the morning, he’d slipped into Rey’s bunk and whispered, “I have to go to Kamino,” his hands soft on her back, his voice hoarse but determined. “I have to help them. The cadets. I have to do something.”

And, of course, she’d gone with him.

She didn’t know what their plan was, but as the storms of Kamino raged around them, Rey felt a thrill in her blood.

She took Finn’s hand and squeezed it, and then she hit the button for the ramp.

They would bring the rage of the storm inside the walls of Tipoca City. A Consular and his Guardian.

#naberiie writes fanfic #finnrey #finnreyfridays #this is a Little bit clumsy but boy once this thought entered my head it would not get out #also including a shoutout to #campaignverse #and #oc amaranth elsheva #'s clone trooper archive #bc of course i would take that opportunity #long post // #hhhh hope u like it!! #EDIT I MEANT ILUM NOT IEGO.... SIGH

[naberiie]

*gets the rare motivation to draw*

*draws my girl for the 4538923 time*

#oc amaranth elsheva #my art #i..... LOVE #how this turned out #i'm still trying to figure out how to evenly shade w/ colored pencils but damn #damn. #i love her #campaignverse

[naberiie]

every time i think abt ama my heart literally goes 💘💖💗💓💟💝💗💞💖💗💟💓💘💝💖💗💞💟💕💕💟💞💞💟💓💗💗💗💖💘💖💘💖💗💓 💖💗 i could talk abt her forever so it’s INFODUMP TIIME

after she gets back to coruscant she basically single-handedly renovates the local greenhouse that’s been out of service/disused for yeeeeears. she asks her friends who get off planet more than she can to bring back seeds and seedlings and bulbs so other kids on the lower levels can experience the beauty of true greenery 

she hates sitting on her hands if she knows she can be helpful elsewhere

whenever she’s upset or scared or angry she bakes bread from scratch if she has access to the materials. if not she just paces

she’s gone to all of jazz’s ballet performances and ama and beau put in two barres for jazz in their teeny tiny apartment, just so she can practice whenever she wants

loves a good hug and a good cuddle puddle

used to be more of a purpley color when she was a wee little thing but gradually shifted to the dark pink she is now

she’s only super vain about two things: her tattoos, and the length of her lekku, and often dresses to call attention to both

i love her lots

#oc amaranth elsheva #i. LOVE.my GIRL

[naberiie]

re: that post abt Good Tropes like taking the love interest’s hand while they’re unconscious/recovering from an injury and the stoic character revealing their attraction to love interest while delirious but conveniently forgetting abt it later

if u guessed i was thinkin abt those tropes with amaranth you’d be CORRECT

#it's what she deseeeeerves #oc amaranth elsheva #tropes