irishfino
-
Posts
1,339 -
Joined
Content Type
Forums
Blogs
Events
Articles
Downloads
Gallery
Posts posted by irishfino
-
-
Prompt: Fashion, Lust
Characters: Geltie, the SI (though unnamed) and Rylee
Turn to the Left
He never considered himself a vain person. No, growing up in the slave pits as a pit fighter tended to make one rather fashion unconscious. If he wasn’t covered in dirt, sweat, tears, blood, vomit, or any other variety of bodily fluid, he was in rags. When he made it to Korriban on some sort of scholarship, the damn clothes had been included. Nice clothes. Soft clothes. Blood free clothes! Well, until he started training, anyway. And it wasn’t always his blood. The drycleaners were rather good at removing blood and staying silent. He liked them.
He looked at himself in the mirror and smirked. He looked a lot like his father dressed like this. He straightened the collar on his uniform tunic. Yes, he was dressed as an Imperial Officer despite his Darth rank, but he wondered if things had been different if he would have been an officer just like his father. Perhaps better than his father. Despite his numerous short comings, all of which he admitted to him as a boy, his father was loyal until the day he was murdered. He remembered that day with frightening clarity despite the many years it had been.
He brushed his hands down his sides and tugged at the bottom of the tunic. He turned to his side and checked his bum in the mirror. If being a Sith in uniform didn’t get him a bit of tail, his tail would get him a bit of tail.
The door to his room slid open.
“You look good, my Lord,” Rylee said as she entered the room.
“I always look good,” he replied, grinning at his reflection.
She chuckled softly. “That is rather true.”
He turned to her and tilted his head to the side. “Do you need something?”
“I just wanted to see you off.”
He grinned wider, cupped his chin in his hand, and cocked his hip to one side. “That’s all?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. Her cheeks blossomed into a cherry red blush.
“If you want a quick one, just ask,” he said as he flashed his teeth.
“I – I – y-yes. If you have time I…”
“On the bed, then.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s not an order, dammit.”
“I know.”
-
***
It had been a few weeks since his meeting with Jadus and his near death at Cerrill’s hands. Jadus had not called upon him since and Cerrill… Cerrill continued her attempts as she was programmed to do. Jaesa was wholly unaware of this and he hoped to keep it that way. He was afraid that, for all her power, Cerrill would easily overwhelm her in battle. Cerrill was trained, merciless, brutal, and the personal assassin to Darth Jadus. There was no one he feared more for that Jaesa, not even himself. When the dreams switched their focus it scared him. He had to protect her, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her why. No matter what, he would shield her from Jadus, from Cerrill, from the coldness that permeated the Destroyer.
“Talk to me, Malavai,” Jaesa said quietly.
They were in his small room, he under the covers of the bed, she sitting on the edge pestering him. She could tell something was different. His sleep patterns were different, his quiet, frenzied muttering in his sleep was different, even the screams were different. Of all the changes, the screams bothered her the most. They weren’t his normal pained cries, but cries of battle. It was as if he was fighting a war in his sleep some nights. His refusal to talk about his dreams frustrated her to no end.
“I have told you before they are just dreams,” he replied quietly.
She made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat and exhaled through her nose. “They’re different. I can tell. Your reactions are different. You’re more… fighting something than you are being beaten to near death repeatedly.”
“Jaesa-”
“Do you trust me?” she asked, interrupting whatever thought he had. He sat up, but remained silent.
“I have issues recalling the specifics of the dreams and I would rather not explore them at this point. It has nothing to do with trust,” he said stiffly. He did trust her. He trusted her with more than he was comfortable with and he wasn’t sure why he bothered.
“You’re not alone anymore, Malavai. If you ever want to explore the dreams, I’m here. We can do a guided meditation together. Anything to help, just tell me.”
“In the dreams,” he started quietly. She looked at him intently and he looked away, opting to stare at the grey sheets instead. “In the dreams there is an attack. Someone close to me dies and my son is kidnapped by slavers. He dies in the slave pens and I fall so far from grace I become another man entirely.”
“That’s terrible, Malavai,” Jaesa said quietly. She reached for him and gently cupped his cheek in her hand. He dragged his eyes from the grey of the covers to the soft brown of her eyes. She smiled. “It’s alright. It was a dream and not all dreams need to come true.”
He closed his eyes and leaned his head into her hand. The gesture was more affectionate than Jaesa was expecting. He had been so reserved lately, so cautious, as if he were scared that any speck of emotion fluttering from him would be his end. Even in private he was quiet and thinking. Always thinking. Maybe he was finally coming around, finally reacting to her small, but affectionate gestures. Maybe he finally realized she was his ally. Maybe, she dared to hope, he was starting to return her affections.
“Stay,” he said, his voice shaky and low.
“Malavai, I haven’t slept in –”
“Lie down with me and sleep.” He opened his eyes halfway and focused on her. “Just sleep, nothing more.”
“And you trust me not to take advantage of you?” she asked lightly.
“Yes,” he breathed, his voice dangerously low, “yes, I trust you.”
That sentence, that declaration of trust sent a jolt speeding down her spine and straight to places she didn’t want to admit had any part in this discussion. She stood from the bed and moved around to the other side, removing her clothing as she went. She couldn’t stop the shaking in her hands nor her racing thoughts, but she was satisfied with the knowledge that, if anything happened, it would be with him.
He quietly watched her through half-lidded eyes as she slowly removed her outer robes. He wasn’t sure what the right path was, but the lead up to the end of his dream showed him something wonderful. He wanted that something wonderful. He wanted her. When she climbed into bed and faced him instead of turning her back to him to be held, he knew there was a chance. Slowly, he slid down to the bed and turned on his side to face her. He balanced himself on his elbow and waited. He wanted to give her time to turn away or verbally reject him. When she smiled that small knowing, but shy smile he moved closer to her. Their bodies were close enough to feel the heat from the other, but not close enough to touch. He wanted to ask her if this was what she wanted, but, before he could, the impatient woman grabbed his free shoulder and launched her face at his. There a bit of uncomfortable fumbling and quite a few feminine giggles before they settled into a comfortable pattern of kissing and exploring. It wasn’t long before they intertwined their bodies, becoming one for a moment that was all too brief, but wholly satisfying. When their all too brief joining came to an end, he held her close to his chest and twined their fingers together. It wasn’t the same, but this holding of hands was far more intimate than any other he had experienced prior. It both thrilled and frightened him.
Notes:
A small skip in time.
-
Whew, glad to see you writing again. It's been a long Quinn drought!
(I miss Sith!Quinn. He was such naughty fun! Can he have a spin off?)
My writer's block is lifting.
As for Sith!Quinn, he gets a sort of spin-off. I have plans.
Thanks for reading everyone!
-
NotLP: Dreams and NIghtmares, Allies, Uninvited Guests
Characters: Vette and Malavai Quinn
Alt-U: NSP, continued from this bit
Soothing
“It’s alright, it’s alright,” cooed a voice quietly.
He hated the dreams, the memories. He hated the feel of the lightsaber as it sliced through his flesh and bones as if he were nothing. It burned. He could find no other way to explain it. It was an intense burning sensation that no balm could cool. The only way to be rid of the fire under his skin was to heal and healing was painfully slow.
The cool hand was back on his forehead applying gentle, reassuring pressure, but nothing more. He knew who it was and he hated her for it. How dare she. How dare this alien put her hands on him. She had no right. He hated her the moment he met her. He hated her even more the moment he found himself in her debt. He more hated himself for being so weak that he was in such a situation to begin with.
“You should really change the code on your door,” she said quietly.
“You should learn to leave well enough alone,” he replied, his voice hoarse from both sleeping and screaming. Dreams. He shuddered and she was quick to remove her hand and replace it with a cool, damp cloth. “I don’t need your help.”
“Whether you admit it or not, you need someone’s help and I’ve been the only one to step up and help out. Jaesa’s too shy, Pierce is too never-in-a-million-years, Broonmark would just as soon kill you, and Syla is pretty damn complicated.” She paused. “Unless you’d prefer the droid.”
“Stars, no.”
She laughed quietly. “Didn’t think so.” There was a moment of silence before she spoke again, her voice quiet and reserved. “Look, I know we haven’t gotten along ever because it’s so fun to upset you so much you run and tell on me to Syla, but I get the feeling the dynamic has changed on the ship. I can now bother you to my heart’s content and you can’t do a damn thing about it.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” he hissed, opening his eyes and glaring at her.
“Unlike you, I’m not a petty bastard. I’m willing to help you. I always was a sucker for the down and out charity cases.”
He struggled to sit up. He wanted to push her away. He wanted to rip the washcloth from his forehead and shove it in her filthy Twi’lek mouth. Instead he flopped uselessly to his mattress and shot her his fiercest glare, daring her to laugh at him, daring her to show an ounce of pity. But she did neither.
“I don’t like you Quinn,” she said. She paused for his scoff then continued. “And you don’t like me. That’s unlikely to change. Still, we’re on the same ship at least until this Baras thing is dealt with and no one else seems willing or able to help you so…”
“’So’ what? Have you considered the fact that I do not desire nor require your assistance in this matter?”
“I thought about it then I realized you’d be too proud to go to an alien for help. If you want to survive long enough to watch Baras die, you’ll accept the help.”
He bared his teeth at her.
“Oooh, so scary,” she said, rolling her eyes and standing. “I can take a hint. I’ll leave, but if I hear you screaming again, I’ll be back.” She turned toward the door and walked a few paces before stopping as if she forgot something. “Oh, and, if you don’t want me barging in here to help, you should really change the door code,” she said over her shoulder.
“You’d slice the lock,” he shot back.
She shrugged and left him as he wished to be: alone. And, in the absence of her annoying presence, the weight of just how utterly alone he was came crashing down as brutal as the sea breaking against the beach. The chill helped soothe the scorching sensations just under his skin. If only for a moment.
-
A Gift of Silk and Oddity
Malavai wasn’t happy. They were back at the little tea place and Ald was listening to the woman quite intently. She was nervous, as she should be, but still breathing, as she shouldn’t be. At least in his humble opinion.
He stood behind Ald in his usual parade rest stance and watched the woman with his best neutral face. She shied away from his look and he could only hope that it was the look in his eyes that turned her gaze elsewhere. He did often practice the blazing eyed neutral face. He would never admit that openly, of course, but he did.
When the woman started in on Ald’s father, Ald dismissed him. Yes, Ald was Sith, and, yes, he was powerful, but this woman had the power to tear him down and rip out his very foundation for being and not even realize it. He didn’t want to leave Ald alone with her, not for one damned moment, but he was dismissed. He left, as was his duty as an officer, but he hated it, as was his role as Ald’s partner. It was an interesting balance between the two. So interesting and engrossing it was nerve-racking and draining. It was fulfilling, of course, that couldn’t be denied.
He decided to wander the shops in the market. Such frivolity wasn’t normally in his nature, but being dismissed, wishing to remain close, and feeling oddly frisky had him walking and looking, looking and walking. He happened upon a small shop that specialized in Killik wares and stepped inside. The woman behind the counter shot up as soon as the bell near the door dinged and ran over to him.
“Yes, yes, hello!” she said excitedly, wringing her hands in front of her and grinning. “Welcome, welcome to my shop. I have many Killik things. Items. Membrosia, silk, carapaces if it pleases. Many things!”
Malavai smiled at her and he swore she swooned. She was a bit fidgety, small, and pale, but she seemed reliable if not a little off-kilter. Whatever she had done to acquire such a variety of goods must have had an effect on her mind. Partial exposure to Killik pheromones perhaps.
“You mentioned silk,” he said, eyeing the store and its goods. Killik weapons of various size and shape, carapaces from the very small, which were housed in cases, to the very large, which were eerie to stare at for too long. Small pods of various size lined one shelf labeled “Membrosia” while another shelf housed a variety of silks.
“Only the finest here!” she said exuberantly. “Hand woven shirts for the most fancy of parties, night clothes for men and women, a few delightful piece of undergarment for more intimate affairs, sheets, pillow cases, wonderful little eye covers for sleeping in the dark. Everything, everything to be made by hand and of silk I have, yes.”
“What would you recommend for a Sith Lord who isn’t very fashion conscious, but enjoys the coolness silk can offer?”
“Male or female?”
“Male.”
She grinned from ear to ear, turned, and signaled for him to follow. He was very careful not to bump any racks or any frightfully tall and creepy carapaces as he followed her through the cramped shop. She did seem to have a bit of everything, everywhere. The woman knew her shop and her customers well. She lead him right to a table stacked with silks and, rather than let him pick a set for himself, she picked one for him. It was neatly folded and a deep Merlot in color. He was surprised and even more so surprised when she giggled.
“You like it, yes?” she asked, still grinning that grin of hers.
“It’s quite nice,” he replied.
“Take them,” she said, thrusting the silk into his chest.
He grabbed it quickly and nodded. “How much?”
“Take, take,” she insisted. “I know when I have a customer for life.”
He arched a brow. “Do you do this for all of your customers?”
“Only the special ones. Now, go. You partner will enjoy the sheets.” She paused and grinned impossibly wider at his curious expression. “No one buys sheets for a Sith unless they share a bed.”
He nearly turned as red as the sheets he clutched against his chest. The shopkeeper only giggled and waved him toward the door.
“Come back and tell Glinda how they worked, yes?”
“I – of course.”
She continued grinning at him until he turned around and, even then, he was sure she was still grinning that strange grin of hers. When he was outside the door she stopped him, thrust a bag in his face, then disappeared back behind her counter to wait for the next customer or for his return, whichever came first. He was grateful for the bag as it would have looked mighty strange to walk around with a set of silk linens. He made his way back to the table he had left Ald and found him alone and staring into nothing.
He carefully approached the table. “My Lord?”
Ald gave a start and blinked rapidly a few times. Malavai sat down in the chair next to Ald, carefully avoiding the chair the woman had previously occupied. He set his package on the table and waited.
“What’s that?” Ald asked, pointing at the bag on the table.
“Something I found in a shop. How did your conversation go after my dismissal?” There was no accusation in his tone, but Ald shifted his gaze to him and frowned.
“You were making her nervous. I wanted her to speak freely.”
“I meant nothing by my question, my Lord.”
“As you say.” Ald paused and considered his words carefully. “I… have a brother,” Ald said quietly. “They had another kid after me with very similar results except he – except he was blind. To the Force, that is.”
“They dared to think they were capable of having another child?” Malavai asked hotly.
“I asked her something similar. She didn’t have a good answer, only that she was desperate to have another child, another chance.”
“Where in the Empire did they live? How did no one notice a Force gifted child disappear from a Force-blind family?”
“I don’t know. Every bit of information I tried to uncover had either vanished or never existed. I was an unregistered Force-sensitive at the very least.”
“I am utterly astounded at the gall, my Lord. They sire a child who is Force gifted, never register him, delete his records, and dump him in the jungle when he’s too difficult to handle. Not only that, but they go on to have more children.”
“She was regretful, at least. That’s… enough for now. I have her frequency should I feel the urge to speak with her further, but, for now, I am rather tired.” He frowned a little harder. “Apologies.”
Malavai shook his head. “You’ve done nothing wrong. As it is, I do have a rather nice gift for you for such an occasion. Tiredness, that is, not finding a family member who abandoned you.” Ald sputtered a laugh and Malavai offered a very small half smile. “Come, we will retire to the suite and I will show you what I have.”
Malavai stood from the table and waited. Ald was slow to stand, his legs a bit numb from sitting for so long.
“I didn’t take you for one who shopped,” Ald said lightly.
“Call it a fit of whimsy. Which reminds me, the owner of the shop sent me on my way with this at no charge, but she is rather sure she has a customer for life. I must admit I am eager to return to her after giving you the gift to validate her instincts.”
“She sounds strange.”
“She was.”
Ald laughed at Malavai bluntness as he led the way back to their suite. He was tired now and it was barely past the noon hour. He would have Malavai inform Vector of their shift in plans. He was sure the Joiner wouldn’t mind the extra time at home, but leaving a Host without his guests was rude and Ald was anything but.
-
Your Quinn can be jealous with Ald Flirts with Lord Cytharat?
He is so very jealous. He, of course, uses his best blank face, but I know. I know.
That would be fun! I"m enjoying your Talos stories as well, so if any other of Ald's relatives want to fall in love with companions I like, I won't complainI looooove Talos. I'm tempted to spin those two into their own thread, but I have so many stories going at the same time... I'd be crazy to start up another, lol.
Thanks for reading everyone!!
-
Drive-by commenting: Tatile, <3 everything Rochester and/or Broan.
Bright, Quinn/Wyn for the win. Snark, snark, and tramps. Whee!
Ad, nice to see you back!
Everyone else: I swear I read the things here...
[drives into the sunset]
-
It's been a while since I've had an AU idea that would let me write it out. Here we go!
NotLP: Allies
Characters: Syla, Quinn, and Vette
Universe: Ninety Seven Percent
Funny Sort of Day
It was a funny set of circumstances that brought him to this place. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t funny haha. No, it was more funny blinding-pain, funny she’s-going-to-kill-me, funny he’s-going-to-kill-me, funny where’d-that-Twi’lek-come-from. Funny anything, but haha.
He wasn’t sure if he was actually conscious or dead. He could feel pain, which could mean he was dreaming. He was almost positive his eyes were open as he could see some sort of grey ceiling and he could hear the muffled sounds of conversation somewhere nearby.
“Don’t Sith sort of thrive on this kinda stuff?” asked one voice.
“From other Sith maybe. Directly. Not through pawns,” replied a different voice.
“Aren’t all Sith pawns? I mean, the whole Master/Servant thing is how the Empire works.”
“I thought you hated him.”
“I don’t hate him enough to watch you suffer over killing him.”
“Oh, I won’t be killing him,” said the second voice, “I have other plans for him.”
“What, will you slap a slave collar on him, stuff him into his quarters with no food or water, and hope he starves to death?”
“I’m almost positive Jaesa would slip him food. She values life or something strange like that.”
“Ugh,” sighed the first voice. “That is so not the point. If he suffers, you suffer. I know you still like him, despite your sexnanigans with Pierce. Don’t give me that look.”
He was sure the conversation continued, but he wasn’t sure if he heard anything. Or saw anything. Or felt anything. For a while, at least.
When he came to, the chronometer across the room indicated he had been out for five minutes. Which wasn’t correct at all. It must be a new day, he surmised. He started to take stock of his facilities when a bolt of pain lanced through his right arm. He hissed and reached for the arm. He probably slept on it wrong. He was almost sure of it. A small set of hands grabbed his reaching arm and tugged gently. He relented, opened his eyes and looked toward the source of the hands. Whatever he was expecting to see, it wasn’t Vette.
“Hey, there,” Vette chirped softly. Which… he wasn’t entirely sure how one could chirp and be quiet about it, but this was Vette. The strange, former slave turned best friend to the soon-to-be confirmed Wrath. The Wrath. His eyes widened. Vette looked at him with something akin to sympathy. “Welcome back to the waking world.”
He drew his eyebrows together in confusion and attempted to talk. His throat was dry and sore and nothing came out, but a croak. Vette raised the bed to an incline, grabbed a glass of water from a tray, and raised it to his lips. He narrowed his eyes at her.
“Hey, I didn’t go through the trouble of saving your life just to poison you with a glass of water. Come on, Quinn, drink up.”
Saving his life? He wanted to laugh at her. Instead, he gulped down the water, which was still cold, and waited for her to explain.
“What, no thank you?” she asked, rolling her eyes.
“If you’re going to be kind, you shouldn’t seek validation for your efforts,” he shot back hoarsely, his throat still sore and his voice rough from disuse.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she muttered. “Look,” she said, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed, “Syla was fit to kill you. I talked her out of it, got you patched up enough so you wouldn’t die before we got to a hospital, and convinced Syla to let you get the best care. I think that deserves a little thanks.”
“Yes, I’m sure. I’m sure your entire plan was to save my life so that I would be indebted to you.”
“I’m not petty like you,” she shot back. That both surprised and disarmed him. He must have been beaten over the head harder than he thought. “Are you going to be a jerk anymore or can I finish talking?” He didn’t reply. “Good. Now, to business. You were pretty messed up. Had your chest sliced open, your right arm nearly cut off, various broken bones, bumps and bruises of course, and a nasty head wound. You’ve been out for about a week. The doctors induced a coma when I told them how damn stubborn you are and how you’re a medic of some sort. Anyway, I’ve got some pain killer I can add to your drip, if you’d like.”
He blinked slowly at her. It would be a waste to save his life just to poison him. Then again, watching him writhe in pain for days on end while he slowly died would be far more pleasing than poisoning a man who was mostly dead to begin with. But, she was right, she wasn’t like him at all. He would have let her die and not just for betrayal. For any reason, really. She annoyed him to no end. He really wished Syla had left her collar on. That would have handled her mouthy curiosity quite quickly. As it was she was a “free Twi’lek” who was still in-service to a Sith. Not very free in his opinion, but his opinion was never valued by the Twi’lek. And he didn’t value hers.
Vette stood and moved around the bed to his IV line. He followed her movements with his eyes.
“I know you’re suspicious,” she said quietly as she injected the contents of a syringe into the port, “but I’m no Sith. I don’t kill for revenge or to get my jollies.”
“Didn’t you kill that creature with the artifact you wanted?” he asked.
“That’s different. I was protecting my culture. Self-defense if you think about it.”
He wasn’t going to. “What do you want from me?”
Vette rolled her eyes and sighed. “I didn’t save your life so you had to pay me back anything, but, hey, if you’re offering, loosen up a little. You’re such a buzzkill.”
“Shut up, Vette.”
Vette snorted a laugh and turned to the door. “Glad you aren’t too affected by what happened. I’ll check on you later.”
That said she left and he was glad. Whatever she had injected into his IV had kicked in and he was delightfully numb. Without pain blurring his vision or clouding his mind, he took stock of his injuries. It was as Vette had said. If only he could see his chart. He looked around for it, starting first on the chair Vette had vacated. Strange, there was a blanket draped over the arm of the chair. It wasn’t that cold in here, but he did always run a bit warmer than others. It was probably nothing. He continued looking around for a few more minutes before exhaustion took over his remaining senses. He fell asleep looking at the blanket draped over the arm of the chair, wondering just how it got there and why it mattered to him to figure it out.
Notes:
There was a short someone wrote about Quinn's birthday, him writing in his journal, and his secret desire to be with Vette. It inspired an idea of my own for a Vette/Quinn, but my brain absolutely refused to let me write it. Whether or not this will turn into one... well, we'll see, I suppose. I hope I didn't make too many mistakes, of which I will likely need to fix later. I need a nap!
In the meantime, spot the reference!
-
Prompt: Backfired plans
Title: An Oblique approach
During some off time during the Battle for Corellia, a bar in the Republic controlled sector, some distance from the front lines.
Doc wander into a bar near where the main disembarkation port for the Republic, wanting get a drink and case the place for the beauties he was sure to find. Considering his latest target of affection wasn't falling in love with him, he decided to try to get her jealous. This place was packed. He look at his watch and saw that it was local dinner time. He knew that Fiona and Kira would show up in about 30 minutes, so he had some time veiw the playing field. Then he spotted something that cause a spring in his step. At the bar, he saw the behind of a female that just screamed 'spank me'. So he walked up to the female that was leaning on the bar drink something, watching the screen for some sporting event. He manuvered next to her, and after a few moments, he coughed to get her attention. No response. Time to use his natural charm.
"So, beautiful, what are you watching?"
Now getting a better look at her, he was stunned. She was beautiful, even in her green armor she was wearing. She wore it like it was a second skin. Now as he examined it closely, it was a Balmorran styled suit. That meant she served on Balmorra or had Ballmoran connections.
"So you served on Balmorra? I served with the resistance there. Gruesome fighting there."
"Come on, Staurt. You can take that guy to the hole any day of the week, and twice on Sunday." said the female to no one in particular.
"My name isn't Stuart, gorgeous. It's Doc."
Now she turned to Doc, he was mesmerized by the brown eyes. "No, and I wasn't trying to talk to you either. Doc."
More things shown up in his veiw, like the Major tab on the high chest area, and the unit marking 326. "How did a beauty like yourself, become a Major in the Army, at such a young age?"
"Doing the impossible and making it look easy, killing Sith and Imperials by the freighter load. By not killing concieted men like you, who do not take a hint"
"Come on, babe. I am the man who can tame a woman like you. All work and no play makes men like me irrestistible."
She turned back to the screen drinking her mug. Doc was getting flustered, obvoiusly this game was very important to her. He looked at the screen, but couldn't identify it. "Barkeep, can i have what the young lady is drinking?"
"I don't have the right stuff to make it here right now. The Major brought the ingerdiants here for me to make it, so i made it for her. After all, Havoc Squad is always welcomed here."
"Havoc Squad? I don't remember hearing you on Balmorra, sweetheart." he eyed her.
She stood up, and faced Doc, litterally eye to eye with him. "Of course not, Doc. By design. Barkeep, do you happened to have a area where losers can't go into so i can watch the last of that game."
"I do, but that loser has it reserved."
Doc was smiling at this, very large smile. Doc had this beauty cornered, and soon, Fiona will see her and be stricken with jealousy.
Then a sharp pain came to his groin. and Then, another sharp pain as his nose was broken by a fist coming down across his face. Then the broad pain of him hitting the ground, which was barely registed after the assault on his groin or his nose.
He looked up in his pain, seeing Kira and a the red haired Jedi that he was chasing for the last couple of years moving towward him.
"Hey, beautiful. It seems this brute didn't want to talk to poor old Doc?" Well, if he could play up the sympathy of Fiona, this night won't be so bad.
"What are you doing, by assualting Doc?" said the Jedi Fiona.
"Letting him know, in the only language he knows, that I am not amused by his advances." as the Major turned around.
"that isn't rii...ROSE"
"FIONA?"
the Jedi and Major embarced in a hug for long lost friends or family memeber have after a long journey.
Kira helped Doc up form the floor, and got him some napkins so that he could stop the bleeding from his nose.
"Looks like your grand plan went up like a comet into star, Good Old Doc," said a smirking Kira.
"At least I got you sitting next to me."
SLAP!!
Kira got up and walked over to where the two best friends were talking, leaving Doc on the floor wondering if anything else could go worng.
SPLASH! WOOSH!
"Opps! Didn't see you sitting on the ground, pal" Said Vik as he was holding a large pitcher and a bucket.
Please use spoiler tags to conserve space.
-
As soon as she left instinct drove him to take off his dress jacket and return to the closet. He pulled out a much older piece, one that was pale grey and very plain with grey insets in the black collar. It hung a little differently now, closer in places than it once had been, but it served. From a small drawer he pulled a long-disused captain's rank insignia. He fixed it in place and looked in the mirror. He was older now, much older, and a different man. But the uniform seemed right for the occasion.
So Malavai Quinn walked forth to say goodbye.
That bit right there broke the damn dam. Dammit. [sniffle, sniffle, sooooob]
-
Where have Ald and Quinn been? Their story has fallen to page 3! I take they are site seeing on Makeb too much
Oh, they've been on Makeb. I have some neat shots of an error where Quinn did not run when Ald got too close. They are, in effect, hugging and very nearly kissing. I have them posted and I can message you a link if you'd like. I will say that the site is notorious for tumbling things and Aldrdinar is very silly and Quinn is very stiff. And it's about Ald's life.
^__^
-
Prompt: Membership
Characters: Talos and Aldria
Break in the Stream
When he joined the Imperial Reclamation Service he knew the risks involved. Escaping his father’s ire was the least of his concerns when weighed against the constant threat of death during discovery. But the prospect was too exciting to pass up. Over his many years in the service he made many significant discoveries all culminating in his most exciting, yet equally frustrating, assignment.
Perhaps frustrating was incorrect. Then again, it was likely more correct than any other term he could think of at the moment and thinking was ever so hard with her so close. And the way she smiled up at him as they swayed through the crowd. He hadn’t felt his knees shake this hard since the first time he entered a tomb. That seemed so long ago.
“You’re frowning,” Aldria said quietly.
He started at the sound of her voice. Oh, dear, he had spaced off. He smiled a bit shyly and focused his eyes on her.
“Just thinking, my Lord,” he replied cheerily.
“What about?”
“My first tomb. I was nervous and shaking, but confident and sure. It was the strangest mix of emotions I had ever felt.” Until now.
She smiled up at him and his heart fluttered.
“May I ask you something, my Lord?” he asked quietly.
“Aldria,” she said, still smile.
“I cannot take such liberties, my Lord.”
“And if I allow it?”
His cheeks flushed pink. “If – if that is your wish. I – Aldria, we – I – dear me, I have no idea what I am trying to say.” She continued smiling at him. He inhaled deeply. “What am I to you?”
If her wide-eyed, slack jawed stare was any indication, she was not expecting him to ask that. Anything else, but that it seemed.
“I – I – forget I asked, my Lord, I – apologies, my Lord,” he stuttered, backpedaling.
He moved to release his hold on her and let another take his place, but found himself unable to move. She was holding onto him as if her life depended on it. He waited for her to speak and, when she did, her voice was quiet and strained.
“Talos, you are… important to me. You are my friend, a member of my crew, and my academic partner. I enjoy your company and often find myself seeking you out for inconsequential chatter. It’s not like me. I’ve never – you’re different, though, and I like it. I meant to – to explain my reaction on my birthday, but I have been too ashamed to tell you. Now isn’t the right time, of course. We’re dancing, or were, we seem to be standing still. We are… at a break in the stream. If we go one way, we will remain friends and nothing more, but, if we turn toward the rapids and take the risk, I think we can be something more. Together.”
His joining the Imperial Reclamation Service over the Imperial Navy was a break in the stream and he had never regretted the choice. Yes, the road was rocky and full of traps, but it was also filled with rewards of academia, of knowledge. Here he was again at a break in the stream, as Aldria had called it. Dare he take on the rapids?
“I find that a very exciting prospect,” he replied.
He dared. And his first rewards were her brilliant smile and her delicately soft lips pressed shyly against his.
Joining the Imperial Reclamation Service was the best decision of his life.
-
Hnnnnng. Vectooooor. I can't even words right now.
-
I like this Holiday much, much better than the one in-game.
I can has?
-
@ Eric
i noticed that i have some quests are reset. Most likely my items/commandations have been lost. Since i don't know which item(s) or how many commandations, what should i say in my customer service ticket?
How will you cover my loss?
This is serious and unacceptable mistake about data loss... It's like the loss of money in bank account for a MMO player...
You have 101% to make sure that its never ever happen again.
I had an issue with a patch deleting nearly everything in my cargo hold. I reported it to CS, but they wouldn't help unless I knew the exact name of every item I lost.
I didn't get any of my items back. :/
-
NotLP: Changes/New Paths, Mirror Mirror
Character: Ucles the Masked
Recognition
When I look into the mirror anymore, I don’t see me. Not the me I’m used to. My eyes aren’t as sharp, my hair’s not as dark. I look tired. I look old. I do this once a week, at least. Stare at myself. Look into my own eyes. I do it to remember who I am. Who I was. Who I am beneath this mask. Who I was before the mask. Who I still am.
I still see the echoes of the man I was. I still have the mark on my cheek. I’ve considered removing it recently, but, well, it’s part of me. I’ve grown used to it these last few decades. I’m almost fond of it. Almost.
Before the mask I was someone else entirely. I never dreamed of becoming this. I had killed before, but it was always a mission to further the Empire. Now I kill to further my wealth. I kill to buy my son’s freedom. His freedom, his return to the Empire will further it. He is the future.
He will return to the Empire and receive the recognition he deserves. Even if he never recognizes my efforts in the shadows.
I don’t need it, I decide. I can barely recognize my own face, let alone any accomplishments this… Ucles has made. That is my name, my alias, my mask.
I bring the mask over my eyes again and feel the silver locks engage over my temples. When I look up, the face isn’t mine anymore. There are scars that never were, eyes that never see the light of day in its purest form, and me, still with the contours of my old face, but forever changed by this tiny mask.
When I step out for the day, I am recognized as Ucles the Bounty Hunter. No one knows my past. And if they look, I am a man who came from the mists. To shoot them in the face.
Such is life.
-
Actually a TOS is only as good as the law of the land.
They still have to provide the service you paid for, namely software that works and runs. I would love to get away with selling people something that doesn't work but with a TOS that says I don't have to provide a working product. Sorry but it doesn't work that way. It is like me saying I claim immunity from local laws because I said so. Doesn't work that way.
The fact is if people paid for early access as part of the purchase they should get it, period. If they don't have access then they have the right to compensation in some form. Games developers aren't immune from selling something that doesn't work because they have a TOS.
Early access was an added bonus to pre-ordering very early. They did not pay any more than someone who ordered on Jan 8th.
-
NotLP: Parenthood, Sacrifices
Character: Ucles, pre-Hunter days
Love
There is nothing in this Galaxy that I love more than my son. Not his mother. Not myself. Not even the Empire. Yes, it is blasphemy to speak such words, but, in my head, such thoughts are safe so long as I never betray them. And I won’t for I love my son and value his safety. I value his future. I have the means to make his future bright and it is impossibly so.
He’s Force sensitive and guaranteed a place on Korriban because of who I know. I don’t have to pull strings, or draw rank. I have an in with someone I daresay I never thought I could call friend again. But she is my friend nonetheless and my son’s future is assured.
There is something, something small gnawing at the back of my head. I must prepare. Whatever this feeling this, is grows everyday adding to my dread.
The end is near and I can feel it. I must ensure my son is safe. He is the future of the Empire and he is all that matters.
-
Evil double post.
NotLP: Disguises
Characters: Ucles
Identity
I’ve changed how I look as much as I can without surgery. A simple visual interface covers my eyes, hiding their color. Sophisticated little thing. Gives me a rundown of the local area, optional speech paths to take, projects an image of a scarred visage and manipulates an implant in my neck dropping my voice an octave or two.
I let my hair grow out. It’s all grey now. Nothing for it. I chalk it up to stress and experience. Long at the top and slicked back, but trimmed around the edges. Professional sleazebag. Let my face get scruffy, let my eyebrows get bushy. No finely trimmed Bounty Hunter would be taken seriously.
That’s the last change there. The title. I’ve already picked a name.
Ucles is my name. Targets are my game.
People who get that joke always laugh.
NotLP: First Day on the Job
Characters: Ucles, Lister Scro
Hatred
Lister Scro is a slimy son of a b*tch if I ever met one. I knew he would be going in, but talking to him face to face, listening to his keening voice as he mewls over his slave girls. I want to bash his f*cking skull in.
I’m a bodyguard for the pit fighters. Some of ‘em are Force sensitives. I ask him first chance I get how he’s able to keep these sensitives under the Empire’s nose.
“Hutta is neutral,” he says.
“Don’t explain how you keep ‘em here without getting raided,” I say. He must think I’m worried about my life. He gets this weirdly calm look on his face and tries to comfort me with his voice. It’s not going to work.
“I release the ones who survive at sixteen. From there, they go to Korriban.”
I hate his f*cking voice. “How many survive?”
“Enough to keep it profitable.”
F*ck you. F*ck you with a rusty lightsaber hilt, you scum pile. “Nice.” I hate my voice.
“I’m glad you agree.” He leans to one side and reaches for one of his girls. She barely flinches. When I get the chance, this man is dead.
I’ll make the f*cking chance.
Notes:
Ucles is a very angry man...
-
NotLP: Loyalty and Betrayal
Characters: unnamed male and HK
Loss
I’ve lost everything. Everything I’ve worked for, everything I treasured. Everything taken from me. Items I can replace, some can be replicated from memory. I can replace my arm. It was cybernetic up a bit past the elbow. I can’t replace my son.
HK is little comfort. He’s not supposed to be. He’s a bloody droid. He keeps going on about searching the HoloNet for information and I can’t see why he’s bothering. Can droids feel guilt? Maybe. Maybe he’s just defective.
***
Lanniter Droge is a funny little man. He’s upset the arm was destroyed. He could have fixed it, he says, could’ve extended it. I don’t much care. I just need an arm.
He makes the arm in less than a week. Looks just like my old one. Minus the glove. Beggars can’t be choosers. Well, that’s not true, they can, but it’s rude. I am not a rude man. Then again, I’m no longer a man. I’ve been erased. My family has been erased. All because of a vengeful Darth’s bloodlust.
He’ll get his.
And I’ll be there when he does.
***
HK gets a lead on where my past belongings are. It’s weird to think of him as a belonging. My son. A child. A boy. He’s barely eight years old. He should be on Korriban instead he’s here on the selling block. And I can’t afford him. It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic. The only thing to do now is manipulate the sale. And I can do that.
No one pays any mind to the scruffy looking, dirty bastard looking at slave trades. Probably think I’m here for unsavory purposes like the rest. If I can get the boy purchased by a no or low kill slave fighting pit… I’m taking a gamble. On my son. On the chance his training will kick in, no matter how insignificant it seems. I can barely keep the bile down where it belongs as I do this. As I take a chance.
I find a name, Lister Scro, and get him priority bidding. I know the name. Seen it on a few listings for pit fights and job opportunities. It’s my only in. If he wins the bid.
I’m taking a gamble with both our lives. And my son is completely unaware.
Forgive me.
Notes:
Ucles is terribly conflicted. On the one hand, that's his damn son. On the other, he doesn't have an identity that's safe to use just yet.
-
I have no idea why Andro would know a potato salad recipe, let alone share it with Talos, but it made me chuckle. I'm glad it made you chuckle.
Fino- I think you've nailed Talos and Andronikos perfectly!
Thank you. This is always my biggest worry when I write about characters I don't write about often.
Irish - D'aww, Talos <3 and D'aww, Andronikus! He seems a bit like the older brother/best friend (of everyone) in this situation and that's really rather sweet.
I've always pictured Andronikos as a friendly sort of guy as long as you weren't trying to shoot him in the face or steal his guns. And he definitely tells it like it is, lol.
@fino, This is perfect. Thank you.fino - Andronikos handing out relationship advice, lol.
I think it's fair to say he's probably screwed up enough relationships to know how to save one that's just barely starting out. Plus, they're messing up the atmosphere on the ship, lol.
I hope I didn't forget anyone... after forgetting I had responses. [sigh] I swear, my brain is all over the place.
As always, thanks for reading my brain babble.
-
The spoiler tag is
instead of [spoilers].
-
Prompt: April Fools
Character: unnamed male and an HK-51 unit
Trigger warning: There is blood. Nothing overt or obscene and no sharp objects involved.
Joke's On You
This has to be some f*cked up joke. Twice. Twice in one lifetime I’m set upon by Trandoshans. They’re looking for something. I can’t decipher their guttural, bone chilling language. I focus on one thing, the most important thing: getting my son out of this place. He doesn’t need to see his father die as well. I get him down the escape hatch and into the tunnels before the damn lizard catches up to me. My arm is up in self-defense then it’s gone. There’s pain. Pain and blood. Damn lizard is grunting something again. I spit in its face. I’m about to die anyway.
Hearing goes first then numbness sets in. Never felt it like this before. It’s final. The end is really here. Before everything goes black, I see the lizard’s head explode into a mist of blood and viscera. Can’t even feel it splash against my skin.
Last thought: About time, HK.
***
Wasn’t expecting to wake up. Don’t know where I am or how long it’s been. Can’t really think.
“Assessment: You are regaining consciousness, Master. Query: How do you feel?”
Numb. I feel numb. I can’t feel my right arm. It must be gone. I’ll need a replacement. My son. Where is my son?
I open my eyes and look toward HK’s voice. “Where is my son?” Sweet stars, is that my voice? I sound old. Tired. Dead.
“Statement: I do not know, Master. After liquidating the undesirables, the estate was set ablaze. Prideful statement: I ceased deleting undesirables to save your life, Master. Solemn assessment: The young master did not make it out alive.”
No.
No.
NO!
Not him. Not my son. I should have died protecting him like his mother did. My son. I can feel my throat constricting. My eyelids burn.
This has to be some sick f*cking joke.
And it’s not funny anymore.
Notes:
A bit depressing. He's unnamed in this bit, but this is my Bounty Hunter, Ucles. He has a rather interesting back story that continues to unfold despite my resistance to such matters.
Characters do what they want.
-
***
He wasn’t one to lie. That was a lie. He was one to lie. To protect himself. To protect Jaesa. She was his… friend. He was fond of her, perhaps too fond, but the thought of her getting into a situation she couldn’t handle disturbed something inside him. Something primal. She was strong on her own, of course, he didn’t think her weak and in need of protection because he was male and she was female. No, she needed protection from Cerrill and, especially, Jadus.
Jaesa was always around, lingering within eyesight. He was certain she placed herself just so. He ignored her, for the most part, going about his day as if she weren’t there. He was certainly aware of her presence. All too aware. He found himself thinking of her at the most inappropriate times; the shower being the most common. He knew what was happening, of course. She helped him when he needed it most and continued to be there for him despite his stiff nature. He had noticed before boarding The Dominator, but he was content to ignore it. Now, however, the stakes were higher. Such a pure feeling would certainly be tainted or squashed entirely. If he wished to nurture the small, budding connection between them, he had to do so quickly and covertly. He had to keep it out of Jadus’ notice and, certainly, Cerrill’s.
Cerrill. They had a connection so many years ago; both of them products of the experiments involving perfecting the SLV serum. She was involved in the first round of new testing. And she was an utter failure. She should have been the perfect killing machine, one that honed in on a single target and destroyed them before being destroyed. If successful, a new target would be presented and the cycle started over. But Cerrill could never be reprogrammed. She was given her target and told to eliminate them. Even when the kill was confirmed, she never switched targets.
He often wondered if, on some level, she knew he wasn’t truly dead. They had been close and he was rather valuable to the research team. Still, her programming persisted to this day. He needed to exercise caution in dealing with her. More than just his life was at stake should he slip up. With that morbid thought echoing in his head, he set down his teacup and saucer and left the seating area to prepare for bed. He wondered, however briefly, if he would dream of those mysterious women again.
Notes:
Rather short, but I've reached a block on NSP I'm fighting through. My brain considers NSP over since Quinn woke up and I can't seem to convince it otherwise.
The Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread!
in Fan Fiction
Posted · Edited by irishfino
NotLP: Confessions, Lust
Characters: Geltie and Rylee
Looping Conversation
“Stars, Rylee,” Gelt said quietly.
“It’s a perfectly valid question,” she replied.
“No, I have never been in love. There was someone when I was a kid, but that can’t be defined as love. I was a child, I had no idea what love was.”
“What was she like?”
“Does it really matter?”
She shrugged. “I suppose not.”
He rolled over top of her and grinned as he balanced on his palms. “Round two?”
“Do you even like me?” Rylee spluttered.
He rolled his eyes and rolled back to his side of the bed. “Stars, Rylee.”
“It’s a perfectly valid question.”
“I’ll put it this way: you’re the only woman I purposely seek out.”
“I’m flattered.”
“You should be.”
She laughed then rolled over him as he had her, bracing her palms on his shoulders. “So… round two?”
His grin was all teeth. “I thought you’d never ask.”