#andveryginger

[greyias]

I wish you would write a fic where... Theron somehow amasses a following of actual, physical porn bots droids and shenanigans ensue

I saw this prompt come in and devolved into a fit of heinous cackling. How, oh how could I resist trying to render our collective Tumblr nightmare into fictional text form?

Context: While not required reading, this is technically a sequel to this stunning crackfic, authored so long ago. If you need a refresher on the Medical Droid Love Triangle Saga, follow this link. Or this one, which is the real villain origin story of this fic. Or don't, you're already cursed if you click beyond the read more of this post.

With special thanks to @grumpyhedgehog, @sandwyrm, @storyknitter, @kitsonpaws, and @andveryginger for providing me with ideas, cursed pornbot summaries, and many cursed HoloNet websites that should never exist. You are not required to read any of this.

Technically rated T, but in reality rated N for Nobody, because no one should have to read this. I'm packing my bags, as my ride to superhell just came. Enjoy.

It had started as such a normal day -- if you could indeed have called any day on Odessen “normal”. What with the galaxy always being at the brink of some disaster or another, and their merry little band of misfits being led by the galaxy’s most notorious do-gooder, Theron’s schedule and to-do list had a tendency to get derailed on almost a daily basis.

This, however, was not how that usually happened.

He’d paused, mid-step, finger still hovering over his datapad, mid-entry as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, slowly dawning horror washing over him. His head turned slowly, like one of those doomed characters in a horror holofilm to look at the droid he’d just passed.

It was one of the new ones that had come in on a recent shipment. So new in fact, that there was still a fleet of them in the middle of being unpacked in the Logistics Wing. Shining, tall and blue, its highly polished quadranium head pivoted to look back at him.

“What,” Theron swallowed, willing his voice to sound even and not give in to the creeping dread, “what did you say?”

“Theron Shan,” the droid repeated helpfully, “is a master lover.”

“Oh no.” The words slipped out of their own accord.

“Just a moment, sir,” the droid continued, seemingly oblivious to the human’s distress, “I’m not quite done with your evaluation yet. Let’s see, where were we?”

“No no no no.”

The round flattened dome that served as its head tilted to one side, beady orange eyes sweeping over Theron from head to toe, before resuming its cheery, if horrifying report. “Subject is an exemplary specimen. In good cardiovascular health, above average muscle tone. Tall, well-built, and very clean...”

“Um,” Theron stammered. “I’m...” Flattered? Taken? Leaving? Wait--yes, that last one. “Going now!”

He didn’t give the cursed machine any more time to continue ogling him, instead taking off down the hall at a very brisk walk that nearly bordered on a jog. His mind raced at he beat a hasty retreat, trying to understand what was happening. It had been over a year since the The Incident, dubbed by some as the “Sexy Spy Virus”, and others by much more crude names, where a little harmless reprogramming had taken on a life of its own. Theron had been meticulous in his coding of the antivirus, wanting to ensure that the entire debacle would be forgotten. There was simply no way that it could crop back in on its own.

“Theron,” the brisk accented tone of one Lana Beniko burst in over his comm, “why did a droid just feel the need to inform me that they found rust on its insides during its last tune-up?”

“I don’t know,” Theron insisted, but his words were almost drowned out by a metallic clanking echoing down the corridor.

He threw a look over his shoulder, and to his horror, saw that his robotic admirer had decided to give chase. 

“I’m going to have to call you back,” he quickly said into the comm as the droid picked up speed from a walk to an all out gallop.

“Theron,” she sounded both concerned and exasperated, which, considering Lana, was about par the course, “what’s going on?”

“Save me!” He shouted as he took off a dead sprint.

In his many years in the field, Theron had been threatened, sure. Shot at? Many times. He’d been drugged. Tortured. Stabbed through the gut with a lightsaber pike and lived to tell the tale. He’d run into Sith, Revanites, bounty hunters, thugs, fanatics and cultists alike. He’d been in more firefights than he could remember, and more covert ops than he cared to. He’d even been accused of being a traitor (although that was kind of the point at the time).

None of that compared right now to being chased down by a droid yelling at top volume claiming he was the best lover it had ever seen.

And this time, he was pretty sure it wasn’t actually his fault.

He rounded the corner from the corridor leading from the Logistics Wing, passing by the Commander’s (and at this point, his) Quarters. HK-55 and Z0-0M straightened to their full height at his arrival. Oh thank the Force, allies.

“Salutations: Agent Shan, you are looking quite spry today.”

“What?” he panted as he approached.

“Yes, Agent Shan, don’t believe what anyone else is saying!” Zeeyo exclaimed, throwing her arms into the air. “Your undercarriage doesn’t look rusty at all!”

Mind sharp as a tack, Theron realized the implications of this just in time, and dodged to the side, ducking and rolling as the assassin-turned-bodyguard droid lunged forward to trap him in a bear hug. Not pausing to even catch his breath, as soon as his feet hit the ground he propelled himself forward and further down the hall.

“Frustration: I only wish to profess my admiration for you, Agent Shan!”

“Nope nope nope nope!” Desperation was starting to tinge the edges of his words now.

The metallic clanking intensified as more droids behind him joined in the chase, all of their vocabulators joining in unison to tell him in one way, or another, that he was in fact, the pinnacle of sexual prowess.

Theron couldn’t run forever, despite whatever their programming was forcing them to say, his stamina would give out before the lustftul droids’ power supplies. As the corridor zigged and twisted, he saw an opening in the form of a door sliding open. Without hesitation he dove in, shoving the individual there, thankfully made of flesh and bone, aside as he slammed the door controls.

The door slid securely shut just as the thunderous clanking filled the corridor beyond, their lustful words of appreciation and encouragement nearly drowned out by the racket. Theron hadn’t bothered to look or count, but he was pretty sure that the number had risen from three in the scant moments it had taken Theron to dart from one corridor to the next.

He held up a hand to his lips as he turned to thank the person who had unwittingly provided his temporary salvation. The words of gratitude died on his lips, as he realized exactly who’s room he had sought refuge in.

For a moment, Theron truly considered surrendering himself to the lusty droid mob.

Draike Highwind’s face was caught somewhere between confusion and amusement, but the latter was winning out as he started to decipher individual phrases drifting in from the corridor. A dark brow arched higher, lips twitching with undisguised mirth as the stupid blue droid that had started this whole mess yelled once again about Theron being a master lover.

More seconds passed, the ruckus quieting down, before silence descended once more, and it was finally safe to speak.

“So,” Draike drew out the word, somehow lacing it with more innuendo than all of the malfunctioning droids combined, “what ya been doing, Shan?”

“Nothing!” he insisted, voice still hushed just in case one of the droids could somehow hear.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.” His brother-in-law’s smirk widened into an almost feral grin, eyebrows waggling. “Sounds like you’ve been getting... busy.”

One of the greatest mysteries in the galaxy was how one man could make anything sound that dirty. “I was minding my own business!”

“Oh, I bet you were.”

“You’re having way too much fun with this.”

“I mean...” If looks could kill, the pilot would have melted on the spot. Unfortunately for Theron, Draike was apparently immune to that sort of thing. “How often do I get the chance?”

“Did you do this?”

“Me?” Draike let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Stars, I wish I could have thought of something this good! These are memories I will cherish forever.”

Theron massaged the bridge of his nose. “I hate my life.”

“I mean, I’m not really into droids,” Draike went on, either not knowing (or more likely caring) about his brother-in-law’s predicament, “flesh is more my kind of thing. But you know, if you and the little lady need to spice things up by bringing in a little metal--”

“Please stop. I’m begging you!”

“Begging, eh? So you’re saying you’re more into--“

“Forget it, I’m taking my chances with the sex-crazed machines roaming the halls.” His palm hovered over the door sensors.

“Theron, wait!” There was enough urgency in Draike’s voice to give him pause. “It’s dangerous out there, take this.”

At first, he was honestly afraid to look, expecting to be offered something like a condom or some other bad joke, but was surprised to see the other man holding out a stealth generator.

“To escape your fans.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea.”

“I know. I’m a genius.”

“I didn’t say that.” He quickly nabbed the stealth generator before Draike could change his mind and frowned at the initials carved in the side in Aurabesh. “Is this even yours?”

“Eh, close enough.”

Whatever, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Theron would deal with those potential repercussions later.  He flicked on the power to the stealth generator which let out a low, almost inaudible hum as a burst of life engulfed his form. He closed his eyes against the sudden burst of brightness, and when he opened them again, dark spots of the light pattern danced in his vision for a few seconds. He blinked a few more times before they faded away.

He waved an arm experimentally in front of his face, and only felt the slight movement of air. Draike didn’t seem to react at all, and that was probably good enough.

“Thanks,” he said, palming the sensor to the door.

Draike rolled his eyes and ambled out into the corridor, looking around with the air of a man all too used to hiding from those looking for him. Theron watched as he raised a hand to a very slowly moving GNK power droid.

“How’s it hanging?”

“GONK!” 

“Oh yeah? You don’t say! I think I saw him head that way.” Draike pointed in the direction leading to cantina. “Just between you and me, I heard he’s sweet on that droid who’s a comfort enthusiast.”

“GONK! GONK! GONK!”

Still hidden underneath the stealth field, Theron had to bite down the urge to make any noise of frustration and just turned an invisible, irritated gaze at the other man’s back. As if sensing Theron’s irritation, Draike just grinned wider.

“Yeah, you know how those spy types are. Always toying with droids’ hearts. You could do better than him.”

“GONK!”

“Oh, you spicy droid! Yeah, trundle off that way, big guy. I’m sure you’ll catch him!”

With a loud clanking, the GNK droid began his slow and steady journey towards the cantina. As the echoes finally faded, Draike casually stretched, pointing towards the direction of the War Room.

Theron skulked on by, but not before giving his brother-in-law a well deserved whop upside the head. The stealth field flickered momentarily on the physical contact before shimmering back into place.

“It’d serve you right to get caught by doing that,” Draike sniffed indignantly, “after all I’ve done to help you.”

“When all of this is over--”

“Hush now,” Draike waved at the air in front of him. “You have bigger problems to deal with. Meanwhile, I will be heading to the cantina. And definitely won’t be live-streaming any brawls breaking out over the Master Lover breaking droid hearts everywhere.”

Theron snorted out an annoyed breath, and checked his urge to trip Draike as he sauntered off, hands jammed into his pockets as he whistled a jaunty tune. Like the purloined stealth generator, he’d have to worry about slicing and corrupting any servers containing evidence of this mess after he figured out how to stop whatever this was from spreading any further.

The upside to this whole unfortunate side encounter, was that the stealth generator made it possible for him to quietly creep around any droids he passed in the corridor. Most seemed to be making a hasty exit for the cantina, almost as if word had spread of Drake’s false rumor about his and C2-N2’s torrid love affair and every heartbroken circuit was flocking in that direction now.

And when he thought about it like that, when exactly had this become his life? Oh, right. Like fifteen minutes ago. Or however long this nightmare had started. Time had sort of lost meaning, if he were being honest.

He managed to make it to the war room, undetected and unmolested, and quietly snuck his way towards the irritable blonde Sith, holding her head in her hands as if she were battling the world’s strongest migraine. As Theron approached the Sith, he could hear her muttering under her breath in frustration. He hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat, causing her to jerk her head up in surprise.

“Who’s there?”

“Quiet,” Theron hissed. “They might hear you.”

“Oh, for Sith’s sake,” she exhaled, “where in the blazes have you been?”

“Hiding,” he whispered urgently. “These droids have all gone haywire!”

“And who’s fault is that, I wonder.”

“Not me,” he insisted, “not this time!”

“Right,” she said sardonically, “and I suppose that’s why there isn’t a reality holoseries entitled ‘Programmed for Love’ currently being live-streamed in the cantina for the entire HoloNet to see.”

“Damn it, Draike!” Theron cursed. “I thought he was joking about that.”

“Of course. How did I not see that coming?” she muttered.

“I’ll slice in and scrub all of the servers after we figure out this... this... whatever this is?”

“Your insecurities laid bare in binary?” she suggested, oh so helpfully.

“Why did I come to you for help again?”

“Because--”

It was at that point, that a probe droid, currently speeding its way towards the cantina, happened to take notice of Lana talking to thin air, and veered off its intended trajectory, heading straight for Theron’s position near the back of the war room. If the loud alarms and flashing lights were any indication, it had been able to see through his stealth generator.

Wait... those weren’t alarm proximities it was flashing. As Theron watched its rapid approach, he couldn’t help but stare at it in dumb fascination, brow furrowing as he tried to make out the images it was projecting. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost say it was a bizarre mixture of Aurabesh and hologlyphs.

He squinted, just able to make out: “DX-98 🤖🔥 Analytical  Scanner 💋🙏 Okara Droid Factory 🔍🌌💕 Exobiology Research 🥵🍑 Top HoloFans 0.7%!”

Before he had a chance to process any of that, the droid was already upon him, pincher arms spreading wide to snap him up for some purpose far beyond its original programming. He only had milliseconds to react before the droid reached him, when an explosive force sent the droid flying backwards harmlessly, and had Theron landing ungracefully on his tailbone. The stealth field fizzled out with a pop on his impact with the ground.

A familiar figure landed between him and the droid, twin blue scarves billowing behind her dramatically, blonde ponytail swaying with the motion of her movement. A small frown of concentration bunched her forehead as his wife threw a concerned look in his direction.

“You requested rescue?” Grey asked.

“Ah, my knight in shining armor has arrived,” he quipped back.

“I am not wearing my armor.” The frown of concentration morphed into one of confusion.

“I--never mind.” He pushed himself to his feet, dusting off his hands. “Thank you for the timely intervention.”

She graced him with a hint of a smile and a bob of her head in acknowledgment. “Any time.”

“As touching as all of this is,” Lana broke in sourly, “it still doesn’t solve our larger problem.”

“Yeah,” Theron rubbed the back of his neck, “you’re not wrong. It sounds like this has spread across the entire base?”

“It appears that way,” Lana said tightly. “You know, you assured me that all of this had been taken care of the last time we dealt with this issue.”

“Hey now,” he bit back, “I’m a man of my word!”

She snorted at that. “Tell that to the Umbaran Transit Authority.”

“How are you still mad about that?”

“You tazed me!”

“Focus,” Grey said, eyeing the stunned probe droid warily. “If memory serves me correct, you had a program you deployed to revert the programming of the droids the last time this happened.”

“Yes, that’s what doesn’t make sense.” He watched as the holoprojectors on the downed probe droid flickered, hologlyphs flashing rapidly in the War Room’s dim light. “I programmed it to eliminate all trace of the offending code. The only way it could be reappearing now is if someone took one of the infected droids offline before I deployed...”

Lana arrived at the same conclusion right about the time that Theron did, picking up the thought. “I seem to recall a certain someone requesting you replicate your work for less-than-legal purposes.”

Theron angrily punched the button on his comm as he growled, “Gault!”

The Devaronian’s voice came back immediately, almost a little too suave. “Theron! What a surprise to hear your dulcet tones requesting my presence.”

“Gault,” Lana managed to keep some measure of calm, “are you responsible for this current situation?”

“What situation is that?” he asked far too innocently, even as a distant call of a droid’s clanking nearly drowned out it’s loud declaration of the presence of rust on one Theron Shan’s “bolt”. There was a moment of silence before he continued. “Oh! You mean the lustful droids currently running amok on the base?”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” Lana said dryly. “My original question stands.”

“I am shocked, shocked and scandalized that my name would be the first to come to mind! Might I remind you, it was one Miss Djannis who requested you create her a Shan Sexbot.”

“Yeah,” Kaliyo jumped in on the comms, clearly annoyed, the sound of metallic brawling nearly drowning out her voice, “I wanted it for hilarious crimes! Not whatever the fuck this is!”

“Gault,” a third voice, Hylo Visz, cut in. From the background noise, it seemed she was in the same location as Kaliyo. “I swear, if you don’t help us figure out how to stop this, when you’re not looking I’ll cut off your--”

“Okay, okay, geez!” He interrupted before his significant other could finish whatever that threat was. “Fine, it was me! I deactivated a droid before Theron uploaded his program.”

“Of course.” Lana rolled her eyes upwards, as if asking the Force for patience.

“In my defense,” Gault continued, “originally it was just to shut the stupid thing up! But then Kaliyo came up with that brilliant idea for the Shan Sexbot Distraction, and I thought, why not hold on to this beauty in case it came in handy for a con?”

The sound of Theron smacking his forehead in frustration echoed throughout the War Room.

“So you know, just had a fun idea come to me the other day, so I extracted the original programming and altered a few things, and tried to put it into a new droid for my plan.”

“Did that droid happen to be a blue medical monstrosity?” Theron was actively massaging his temples at this point.

“I will have you know,” Gault said, “that BL-U3 is a consummate professional. You would be lucky to have him perform a medical exam on you!”

“Yeah, that was definitely his intent,” Theron shot back. “Purely professional and not lecherous at all! Which was not in any of my code.”

“Hey, I never claimed to be very talented when it came to software programming. I may have made a mistake or two when altering your code.”

“May have?!”

“How was I supposed to know that the remnants of the Gemini Frequency code in our systems was going to work after the entire Eternal Fleet had gone offline and deploy your software STD to the entire network? Sue me!”

“I’m considering it!”

Before the mostly pointless argument could escalate any further, the sounds of metallic clanking from above, roughly from the location of the cantina, began to grow closer, the cacophony increasing in volume, until it sounded like it was coming in all directions.

“That is not a good sign,” Grey’s mutter was nearly lost to the noise.

“Hey,” Drake’s annoyed voice cut in over the comm, “my livestream is now officially ruined! I hope you’re all happy!”

“I’m afraid to even ask why,” Theron said.

“Oh, it seems all of my extremely eligible and single contestants heard your voice over the comms and abandoned challenging Seetoo Enntoo to unarmed droid combat for the right to court you, and are now all headed in your direction.”

“Oops.”

“Worry not Agent Shan,” the unusually warbly vocabulator of C2-N2 came over the comms, “I will not rest until I alone can provide you with the ultimate in comfort!”

“We should probably get a different housekeeping droid after this is all over,” he told his wife.

That seemed a lesser concern to Grey, as she had shifted into Alliance Commander mode, and was currently on the comms, shouting for every available member of the Force Enclave to get to the War Room as fast as possible to help hold off the incoming army of lustful droids.

Yeah, come to think of it, that was probably more important.

“We must use nonlethal force,” she stressed, giving a particularly severe look to Lana when she said that, getting a simple nonplussed shrug in return, “as we only need to hold the droids at bay until we can come up with a solution. They are not to blame for what’s happening.”

Theron begged to differ, but she was probably right in this case. The cost of repairing or replacing an entire base full of droids would be astronomical.

As Force users began to stream in and take up position around the room, the sound of wheels racing along the metal plating caught Theron's attention, and he looked over to see a familiar silver T7-series astromech racing into the room. He tensed up instinctively at the sight of a droid, as anyone would have in his situation.

“Teeseven!” Grey called out with a smile, clearly not as wary or droidshy.

The little astromech let out a friendly whistle and series of chirps in binary, that roughly translated to: “T7-01 = Safe! // Been off network entire morning!”

“Oh, what a relief,” she breathed, “I would have hated for you to be infected with this too!”

He let out another series of beeps: “T7-01 = still in possession of original antivirus code. // Can tweak it and upload to servers = Save the day?”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Theron muttered.

“T7 = not scared!”

Grey’s expression melted into one of admiration and pride. “Teeseven, that’s incredibly brave -- but are you sure? Theron’s right, it could be very dangerous.”

“T7 = Jedi + Theron’s friend. // Helping > Risk!”

She looked at him and he returned the gaze with a small nod, realizing there wasn’t much in the way of choice. It was either that or let the droids overrun them. And then whatever happened when one of them actually got their hands on on Theron -- a prospect he wasn’t really that thrilled to explore right now.

“Fine,” he said tersely, “let’s do this!”

The two of them rushed over to the center console in the room, Theron pulling out his slicer spike as Teeseven plugged his scomplink arm into the main network terminal. The rest of their reinforcements from the Force Enclave arrived just in time and formed a ring around the two slicers. They managed to erect a large Force barrier just as the metallic clanging and clatter grew to a roar, announcing the arrival of the lecherous horde.

Near the front of the mob, Z0-0M threw up her arms in glee and excitement as she jumped to try and catch sight of her beloved. “There you are Agent Shan! You left before we could finish our conversation -- you were saying something about oxidation?”

“Interjection: Do not listen to this hussy, Theron! You and I will make sweet explosions together!”

Theron valiantly tuned them out as he took in a feed of the original antivirus code that Teeseven shared with him. Yes, this all looked correct. Unfortunately, he was going to need get a look to see how Gault had mutilated his beautiful original coding to know how to alter it.

Teeseven was two steps ahead of him, and a stream of code flashed across the HUD in his ocular implants. He watched in horror as he saw the butchery with his own two eyes.

“Gault, where the hell did you get this code?” he asked over the comms incredulously. “HornHub?”

“Excuse you, I only frequent the classiest places on the galactic communications grid, like HoloHump!” The growl of Gault’s name from a very angry Mirialan smuggler had him quickly adding. “You know, I’m just going to shut up and let you concentrate on what you’re doing.”

Teeseven, ever the valiant worker, ignored the conversation completely, and was hard at work running diagnostics on the altered code and the best way to modify the antivirus to address it. Theron watched the stream of letters and numbers fly across the HUD at lightning speed.

The little guy was good at what he did. He let out a flurry of beeps and whistles as almost the last piece of this very lurid puzzle started to fall into place. The little droid seemed to almost be singing along with the code as he wrote it, like a mechanical maestro conducting an orchestra. They were close, so close and--

The next whistle Teeseven let out was not his normal, cheerful way of communication, much lower in timbre and more seductive.

No.

Teeseven whirled his flat head around until his visual sensor faced Theron, and let out another wolf whistle, his holoprojector lighting up to proudly display: T7-01 🤖👀🔍 Observant 👁️🔭 Scanner 🔍🏞️ Tython 🌄👏 215 🍒♎ Repairing 👅🙈 Top HoloFans 3.6%

“What was that?” Grey shouted to be heard over the droids catcalling.

“No no no no,” Theron muttered, “we’re so close! Don’t do this to me, little buddy!”

“What happened to my precious baby boy?” Grey demanded, sweat trickling down the side of her face as she struggled to maintain the Force barrier.

Beyond the barrier, the rest of the porndroid army followed suit with Teeseven, all either wildly projecting their own series of hologlyphs and random facts about themselves and their planets of origins, while others struck disturbingly seductive poses, and a scant few demanded that “ShanDaddy” start a holocall with them in private.

With no time and no recourse left, Theron dove back into the system, yanking Teeseven’s unfinished code as he was nearly overwhelmed with lewd images and thirsty hologlyphs, struggling to finish and upload the code as the volume in the War Room rose to a crescendo just as the Force users’ began to fall, one after the other, their barrier weakening by the moment.

The overwhelming cacophony of hologlyphs, lewd poses, and robotic come-ons that had filled the War Room suddenly disappeared. All eyes turned to the droids as almost in unison, as they all powered down—a sign that their malware had been neutralized. Theron slumped back in relief, his work finally done.

Grey, Lana, and the others let out a long sigh of relief, the tension leaving their bodies in a rush.

“Thank the Force,” Grey murmured, sinking down to the ground. “I do not think I could have held that barrier much longer.”

Theron nodded, feeling a similar sense of exhaustion. He leaned back against the console, closing his eyes but was unable to banish the mentally scarring series of images that were probably permanently burned into his retinas.

“Remind me,” he said faintly, “to obliterate HoloHump’s servers. Once I’m done murdering Gault.”

“You act as if there will be anything left after I find him,” Lana said darkly.

“Remember everyone,” Grey spoke in her best and most official Alliance Commander voice, “murder is bad and frowned upon in the Official Alliance Employee Handbook.”

“Query: Why are we all in the War Room?” HK-55 asked as he came back online. “And more importantly, why is that blue meddroid manipulating its medical instruments into a heart shape, as if expressing affection towards the Commander?”

[keldae]

Tax return came in, so I decided to treat myself! @@painful_obsession_tattoos on Instagram took the themes of my favourite song/album (the song is "The Ever", from the album of Beauty and Rage by RED) and designed a gorgeous tattoo! (With some inspiration from @andveryginger 's suggestions!)

I am LOVE THIS.

[victoriasartstyle]

for a friend :D @andveryginger

[chenria]

Commission for the amazing @andveryginger of her beautiful Mairen Bel Iblis and @keldae‘s Reanden Taerich - I felt so honored to do some sort of wedding portraits for their SWtOR sweethearts ♥

I hope I did them justice. 

[storyknitter]

greyias replied to your post “Micro story: 30. harsh whisper”

It’s okay. I didn’t need my heart ��

the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond replied to your post “Micro story: 30. harsh whisper”

Aaargh that terrible moment !!! T^T

andveryginger replied to your post “Micro story: 30. harsh whisper”

Dammit, Knitter...

Excellent, my work here is done! ;)

Sorry? Mostly?

[angstmongertina]

@andveryginger replied to your post “The fun thing about writing a ship that burns as slowly as Jace/Satele...”

...I'm currently writing the events surrounding their wedding, post-KotET. Their son is 37 - 38. "Slow burn" doesn't even begin to cover it. =D

Getting married in their 70s after meeting each other in their late teens and being interested since their 30s or so? Yeah, that sounds like a reasonable timeline for them. :D

[gaslightgallows]

👐: It's years down the road and, though he'll remain as a consultant, Clint Barton is retiring from field work. What gift does Loki offer at the retirement party? ;)

Uh… exploding arrows a la Wile E Coyote? This one’s out of my field of expertise, I haven’t really done enough with Clint. Sorry!

[rinskiroo]

Angsty 'ship asks, #40

who sleeps on the couch? can either of them sleep without the other?

If it came to a point where they were irreconcilable before bed, Theron would be the hold out and in a fit of stubbornness would snatch a blanket up and march off to the couch.  Neither one of them would probably sleep at all and be extra grumpy the next morning.

In general, Theron probably gets to sleep okay on his own.  (I dunno, maybe now the guilt will keep him up at night.  Jerk.)  For Jas, she slept (sort of) for five years and when she woke up, the galaxy was terrible.  It’s been awhile, and things have gotten better, but she still has a tough time sleeping if Theron isn’t there.  (inc Lana snuggles.....? >.>)

Everyone’s going to be so exhausted on Copero.

[angsty relationship asks]

[gabolange]

"Get to know your author" meme: 11) what aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

For the Get To Know Your Author Meme…

This is a hard one! My dear beta @pellucidthings (who also asked this question) would certainly tell you that my abuse of the semi-colon has improved…but that I have transferred this habit to the colon and the em-dash, which may not actually be a meaningful improvement.  So…

One of the things I continue to work on and improve is matching my writing style to the tone of the piece.  I think some of the things I’ve written this year–notably life, and breath, and all things and my recent Doctor Blake ficlet (also here)–are particularly good examples of this.  Then again, it is something I struggled with while writing my smut series, because that was such a different style than my usual.  Which is to say that it’s something I have improved upon over time, but slowly and in fits and starts.  Progress is never quiet linear.

[greyias]

3. Things you say too quietly - - Grey/Theron

I know you didn't ask for a Jedi!Theron AU with this prompt... but the muses spoke, and well...

“I’m sorry that you couldn’t become a Jedi, Theron. You would have been a great one.” - Jedi Player Character, Shadow of Revan

Theron had grown accustomed to a few not-so-subtle glances in his direction and the echo of whispers as he passed. His surname, as well as the apparent family resemblance between him and Grandmaster Satele Shan of the Jedi Order, ensured that his ancestry would never be hidden in the long run. But usually the whispers began after he stepped off the shuttle.

He tried to smother a frown as he strode through the temple, weaving through the crowds milling on the landing pad. If the persistent whispers and exchanged glances between Jedi were any sign, something out of the ordinary was going on. Tython was typically a much more reserved place than this, and the atmosphere set him on edge.

When something was amiss in his environment, the reassuring, yet almost insignificant weight of the lightsaber at his hip was always a comfort. The comfort and familiarity of the hilt, of the bright green blade that shone when he activated it, was one of the few constants in his life. Despite what some in the temple may have claimed, he wasn’t quick to draw it — the legacy of Revan followed all of his descendants in pernicious ways.

The murmurs continued with each step, and he caught only snatches of information as he worked his way through the crowd. Perhaps a different Jedi would have stretched out their feelings and tapped into the Force to figure out what was causing the uproar. However, he and the Force had a unique relationship. What came naturally to most of his peers, Theron had to work twice as hard to master. Communing with that mystic energy never came easily to him, and he preferred not to waste his time and energy on petty pursuits when he could more easily use his normal senses. He preferred to be grounded in the physical, to touch something and confirm its reality.

Theron finally emerged from the crowd swarming around the platform and entered the temple’s great map room — and spotted the source of the uproar. He wasn’t able to smother the shock of surprise that ran through him when he saw the motley crew gathered around a table in the far corner of the room. He’d had little interaction with everyone on the Defender’s crew, but he could still recognize them from a distance. Sergeant Fideltin Rusk appeared irritated, the Chagrian’s lethorns twitching as he attempted to disappear into his seat. Doc, as he insisted on being addressed, was leaning back in his chair, attempting to smooth talk a nearby Padawan who was attempting to ignore him. The little astromech T7-01 emitted shrill beeps at his flirtatious crew-mate. If Theron’s mental translation was correct, it was a stern warning to the medic to stop clowning around.

Of course, the biggest mystery wasn’t what the astromech was saying, but why it or the rest of the crew were here at all. The last anyone had seen of the Defender, its crew, or commander was six months ago, when they and several other members of a covert strike team infiltrated a secret fortress and capture the Sith Emperor himself.

Theron’s gaze narrowed on the group, lips pursing together. The busybodies here didn’t know about that part, though. All they knew was that a member of the Jedi High Council and a rising star in the Jedi Order had vanished almost completely without a trace.

Rumors of new, powerful Sith cropped up, whose descriptions seemed disconcertingly similar to the missing Jedi. That was where Theron had been, gathering intelligence on these rumors at the behest of his former master, Gnost-Dural, and why he had come to Tython to deliver reports to the Council directly.

He was supposed to deliver the report alongside Jomar Chul, with whom he’d teamed up when the rumors started. During their investigation, however, it became clear that Jomar’s interest in the mission was very singular, centered on the fate of just one of the missing Jedi. They’d eventually split up. Jomar focused on his obsession, leaving Theron to chase the remaining leads on his own.

He had a feeling Jomar was going to get into trouble again. Just like when he’d crash-landed on Tatooine while scouting the Dromund Kaas system for Tol Braga’s strike team and needed to be rescued by the Order’s resident overachiever. Since “The Force” allegedly intervened and brought Little Miss Perfect in, they had kicked Theron off the strike team. Never mind that he’d already done extensive legwork on the scope of the entire mission.

The story of his life.

Theron’s talents in the Force had always paled compared to the alleged legacy he’d inherited, and the two most prominent rising stars in the Jedi Order had always outshined him. First there was the Barsen’thor, with their raw talent and diplomatic savvy. And, of course, the woman who had nearly saved the entire Order and the planet of Tython from Darth Angral’s wrath. Theron was off world in the Vesla system at the time, and when he’d returned, the temple seemed unable to talk about anything else.

He could have approached the Defender’s crew and asked for precise details of their whereabouts for the past six months, or inquire about the conspicuously absent members of their crew. But he suspected that if he just kept walking, more would reveal itself. So, with only an arched brow at the strange ensemble, he made his way out of the chamber.

Theron found his way to the large balcony in the main hall, which overlooked the Eye of Zallow hovering in the center of the vast room. The Chamber of the High Council was just to his right. The Council members were speaking to each other, their words indistinct but their concerned tones loud enough to be heard over the buzz of conversation in the hall. He couldn’t help but wonder if the return of the Defender’s crew was responsible for that, too.

That’s when he saw her, leaning against the balcony railing, gazing down at the first floor.

For a moment, Theron almost didn’t recognize her, and it was only that dim, electric hum that seemed to pass between only the two of them that revealed the woman’s identity. Gone were the squared shoulders that projected serenity and strength, as well as the ornate tunic she wore after earning the moniker “Hero of Tython.” Theron’s eyes narrowed as he took in the pale face, tight jaw, and dark circles that stood out beneath haunted eyes. She wore a plain, stained tunic that hung loosely around her. Her hair was still pulled back into a ponytail, but it hung limply around her shoulders. Possibly most alarmingly of all, her lightsaber hilts were conspicuously absent. It may have been six months since he’d last seen Greyias Highwind, but one look at her revealed she’d been through hell and back.

Theron could have walked into the Council Chambers — and probably should have — but found himself settling in next to her at the railing, as if drawn there by a gravitational force. With his gaze fixed on the Eye of Zallow, he simply rested his arms on the railing, making no attempt to speak. While he may not have felt like wasting energy attempting to connect to the Force in order to determine the source of some whispers, but the connection seemed easier here. He felt the raw emotions tumbling off of her almost effortlessly — although perhaps it was more her not shielding herself than any effort on his part — and he wasn’t sure what to make of what he was picking up. She was projecting a sense of loss and bitterness, but there was a fog over it, as if she was trying to conceal it from all those around her.

Theron kept his mouth shut, trying to push his own emotions to the side. The last words he’d exchanged with her hadn’t exactly been the kindest. He’d been frustrated by being sidelined yet again and took it out on her, calling her a glory hog, among other choice words. She’d even apologized later, as if she felt some remorse for his exclusion from the mission. But she also didn’t try to persuade Tol Braga or the Council to let him back in.

Of course, after six months of radio silence, the entire strike team presumed dead and now possibly turned traitor… in retrospect, it now almost seemed a blessing. At least for him, because it was clear from looking at her it had been anything but on her end.

“Sometimes I wonder,” she finally said, her voice so quiet he couldn’t hear it over the din of the temple, “if you should have gone instead of me.”

That drew his gaze up to her, and he studied her features closely. He didn’t need the Force to see the darkness that clung to her like a lingering stain. Her normally expressive face was masked in an expression he couldn’t quite decipher, but even despite that, her eyes still spoke much louder than her voice.

It took him a few moments to gather his thoughts (and stamp down his stubborn pride) before he spoke. “Look, I’ll deny it if you ever tell anyone, but we both know who the better Jedi is between the two of us.”

“I... I did not mean it in that way.”

He almost winced, but stopped himself. He was doing a fantastic job at... whatever this was, wasn’t he? “In any case, I doubt my presence would have made a difference.”

She took a deep breath and nodded, as if whatever he’d said was the most obvious and logical thing in the world. “I suppose not.”

He considered the report he was about to deliver, and the likely identities of the Emperor’s new dark enforcers wreaking havoc across the galaxy. If the rest of her strike team had fallen to the Dark Side — some of the Order’s best and brightest — it spoke of her resilience that she hadn’t joined them.

“You made it back, though,” he added cautiously. “That has to count for something.”

“Does it?” Her voice was little more than a whisper, but he could pick up the despair and resignation in it.

It was a far cry from the cheerful Padawan who’d fought alongside him against the Flesh Raiders in the Gnarls. Or the pompous and pious young Jedi who rescued Revan from the Maelstrom. Or the honest Knight who always seemed to land the toughest missions, earning her the Grandmaster’s favor. As much as he’d resented her outshining him throughout his Jedi career, seeing her in this state was much, much worse.

In all of his years as a Jedi, Theron had always been reaching. At first, for the Force — trying to establish a connection which eluded him repeatedly over and over until one day, suddenly, an intangible yet firm hand had grasped him like a lifesaver being thrown out into stormy waters. He’d been reaching ever since. For the respect of his peers. For his mother’s—er, the Grandmaster’s—acknowledgement. Trying to reach for some destiny which always seemed to be plucked out of his grasp every time his hand closed around it. Over and over, he kept trying, with a stupid persistence that would have a smarter person giving up and moving on.

The woman in front of him had once been the personification of everything he’d been striving for. He’d looked into her bright, shining future and compared it to his own. Who always came out on top? Who walked away with the fancy titles and the admiration of the whole Order? And who had to stand in the shadows, watching as she earned accolades for her bravery and skill? As he looked at this shell of a once great Jedi, he wondered if maybe all this time, he’d been reaching for the wrong thing.

And yet he reached out again — but this time, to rest a hand on her shoulder.

When she looked at him, he could see surprise mingling with something softer. As if he’d plucked some cosmic string, the surrounding air seemed to shift, and a silent symphony filled the empty spaces between them. A familiar warmth rose up, melting the fog that shrouded her. He pretended not to notice when she blinked once, twice, a curious shimmer almost clinging to her lashes.

Neither of them moved for a few beats. Then she extended her hand, barely brushing his before pulling back, a faint blush creeping up on her cheeks. The minor emotion rippled through the Force, and for a second, Theron thought he heard a tune that sounded familiar but couldn’t quite place it.

“Every moment is what we make of it, right?” he said, trying to move past any awkwardness he’d created.

The corners of her mouth twitched slightly upwards, the closest thing to a smile he’d seen since he’d last seen her. “When did you become so wise?”

“Well, you know — I’m a Jedi. Comes with the territory.”

A laugh. A sharp, clean laugh, as if it had been trapped in her chest and only now had a way of escape. For a moment, she was almost herself again. Almost. The gray pallor remained, as did a haunted look in her eyes, a tension she’d not yet released. But he could see a spark now, a flash of the past’s brilliance. He wondered what it would take to restore that light to its former radiance.

Probably time.

“That you are,” she said, her smile still on her face. “And a pretty great one too.”

“I think you and I both know who has done the most good.”

“It is not great deeds that makes a Jedi,” she sobered slightly, tilting her head at him, “but this.”

She reached out, placing her hand over his heart. Her eyes crinkled as she gave him a half-smile, and the air between them practically crackled. A divine warmth radiated from her fingertips, through his shirt, and deep into a forgotten part of himself and lighting a fire in him. Not the type that left a searing mark, but almost cleansing — as if something was drawing him out of himself and connecting with her, making another part of them both more whole. The moment hung there, the rest of the world reduced to background noise. That strange energy filled the air between them and seemed as natural to both of them as breathing. Perhaps it was the Force; perhaps it was something else. He’d figure it out... later.

Her hand dropped, and she took a step back, bringing the surreal moment to an end. It was as if the room suddenly reappeared, drowning out the strange music that filled the space between them.

For lack of anything else to do, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I should… report to the Council.”

“It is probably wise to not keep them waiting,” she agreed, tucking her hands behind her back.

They exchanged a glance, and he was caught off guard by the softness in her expression. She didn’t move as he walked away from her, but her gaze followed him as he approached doors to the Council Chamber.

He took a brief pause just before entering to glance back. She was still there, leaning against the railing, her gaze distant. Perhaps he was imagining things, but she still seemed to radiate the warmth that had filled the distance between them. He reached out through the Force, and was met by a familiar light. Then it was gone, as if tamped back down.

He turned away and was about to slip through the door when he heard her voice drifting to him, soft but somehow louder than the wind. “Thank you, Theron.”

That was the only thing she said. But it was enough.

He smiled — and walked on.

[keldae]

Tagged by the incomparable @dingoat -- thank you! <3

3 ships

Right now, to nobody's surprise, Gale/Devi is eating my soul. On paper, they shouldn't work -- he's an educated, wealthy, powerful mage (who makes very poor life choices), and she's a much-younger-than-him thief who grew up as an urchin on the streets of Baldur's Gate, whose only "acceptable" skill is playing a violin (apparently pickpocketing and stabbing people aren't considered widely acceptable or desirable skills?). But in all the ways that really count, they are compatible -- they're protective of each other and their friends, and Devi's street-smarts balance out Gale's book/arcane knowledge, and her feisty-ness is another counter to his more balanced way of dealing with things (read: he's 90% of her impulse control). I suppose opposites DO attract! ;)

Theron/Xaja has lived in my brain ever since Shadow of Revan dropped, in canon-verse and in at least two AU's. Theron definitely brought out a side of Xaja that isn't necessarily a proper Jedi side to show, but it's definitely her -- she's also feisty, and protective, and she's got a snarky streak to her that sings to Theron's soul. And she loves Theron's devotion to the cause, and his intelligence, and his wit.

(also, looking at Xaja and Devi... apparently I've got a TYPE when it comes to my main characters in RPGs. You should take a look at my canon Warden from DAO sometime, Lynaen... who ALSO is a redheaded dual-wielding rogue with a healthy dose of snark. At least she was raised a Cousland and didn't spend time learning how to pickpocket on the streets like the other two? #roguelifeFTW)

And I gotta talk about Reanden/Mairen too. They started on a bit of a whim when @andveryginger and I decided to throw them together for a couple of one-off kiss prompts, annnnnd now they run a good chunk of our respective brains (Reanden likes to hang out in Ginger's head a lot). Mai (Ginger's) loves Reanden's intelligence, and his dedication to his kids and the Republic, and the compassionate, caring streak he has under his sociopathic facade. And he's got a type for snarky redheaded Corellian Jedi ladies -- the fact that Mai loves his kids like they're her own, and doesn't think less of him for his rare moments of vulnerability, means the galaxy to him.

First Ship

Oh man -- my very first OTP was Faramir/Eowyn from LOTR, ever since I first read the books at the ripe old age of 12 years old, and it's STILL one of my favourite ships. I think, even 20 years ago, I was seeing myself in Eowyn (as a female character, as one who wanted to fight and seek out renown, as one who, as I would discover later on in my own life, had a bucketload of mental health problems to the tune of depression), and wanted my own Faramir (gentle, noble, compassionate, intelligent). So a bit of projection there? ;) The first ship I wrote... well, I'd started a girl-falls-into-Middle-earth fic in high school, and the endgame goal was my OC with Legolas, but looking back on it now, I think my OC may have had more chemistry with Boromir. Either way, that fic has been abandoned for like 15 years -- I ain't bringing it back out to resurrect it. ;)

Last Song

According to Spotify, "Master Of Illusion" by Battle Beast! If/when I come up with a Gale playlist, that song's going on it.

Currently Reading

"Tress of the Emerald Sea" by Brandon Sanderson. I'm not too far into it, but so far I'm enjoying it! (Also, I LOVE Sanderson's writing style, and the little bits of snark he peppers in there. Current favourite line: "... he had a jaw so straight that it made other men question if they were.")

Last Film

In theatres -- "Argylle", which I enjoyed! I wouldn't class it as a "favourite" movie, but it was fun! At home (read: at Chez Boyfriend), it was "RED" -- that's one of my favourites. Bruce Willis and Karl Urban snarking at each other... =D (Karl is also my faceclaim for Reanden, and that movie was a big inspiration!)

Currently Craving

Nothing at the moment! I have my coffee and I have a big-ass Costco-sized muffin that I'm working on before I go for my tattoo appointment. (Also, Part 1 of my tax return came in last week... I could get ALL the groceries, thank God! Part 2 is dropping on Thursday, for all the backpay after the CRA applied the ADHD disability credit to my previous years... I legit cried when I saw that number. I can afford to get my car fixed, AND get this new tattoo, AND a haircut, AND maybe, I don't know, throw something into a retirement fund!)

Tagging, if you wish: @greyias @storyknitter @nayci @elveny @abysskeeper @auroraesmeraldarose

[chenria]

Today’s dose of ko-fi sketches. (17 left)

- Draike for @greyias - Annya for @andveryginger

A gift from @stephyhimemademe for the two of them. 

[angstmongertina]

@andveryginger replied to your post “Oh mannnnn it’s been so long since I’ve written angst and I have some...”

Several of us are discovering that the angst keeps seeping in to our fluff... But that we need periodic fluff because a break in the tension is good. ::side-eyes Bioware and their silly release dates:: ;)

HONESTLY I don’t even have any fluff planned for Theron/Rhinaa, just because the holiday prompts are mostly other fandoms. So... he just gets angst. :D

Periodic fluff? In my angst? It’s more likely than you think!

[gaslightgallows]

andveryginger replied to your photo: @a-bit-of-wit brought me these from PAX East –...

Level Up Dice?

Precisely so!

[inquisitorhotpants]

andveryginger replied to your post: notactuallyherenotreally replied to your post: ...

Discovered the FP change running Lost Island and Kaon for conquest, as DH levelled his toon. Even with my 240+ gear and level 50 companion heals, there were two instances where we died, especially during Kaon (double-ugh). Really needed at least 1 more level 70.And yes, definite understatement re: Iokath. =

It was just so UNNECESSARY, that's what chaps my ass about it. Why not just *add* a mode, instead of taking away the ability to run things? Why go *out of your way* to make content inaccessible? Especially lower level content! Like, why in the hell can I not run a level 19-23 flashpoint at level 19-23?

[greyias]

22. Nap.

Fine. Fine. I’ve been called out via hashtags ;)   –   here’s a (small) break from the angst.

A sudden brush of skin against his pulled Theron’s attention from the datapad he’d been staring at for the past half hour, although he didn’t jump. He was less tightly wound than he’d been when he was younger, and had grown accustomed to the presence of someone else in his space. Accidental brushes and all. 

He glanced behind him to see his wife, napping in what he guessed was a comfortable position on the couch — although he was probably not the best one to judge considering he wasn’t the one that was pregnant. Her hand had fallen as she shifted, making a small, disgruntled noise that usually meant the baby was kicking up a fuss.

He grabbed the fallen hand and placed it back on the couch, before leaning in close so he could whisper to the little rapscallion. “Look, kid, if you’re anything like me I know patience isn’t exactly a virtue, but lay off your mom, okay?”

When he did this when she was awake, she’d roll her eyes at him, or shake her head good naturedly. The lack of response from her end meant that she was at least getting a little rest. Something told him — okay, the five million datapads he’d tried to read up and research on parenting had told him —  that sleep was going to be a luxury. Any day now.

Apparently his words had some sort of impact. The discomforted look on his wife’s face eased as presumably the little tyke settled back down. 

Theron couldn’t help but smirk as he returned to his datapad. “Glad we had this talk.”

Microstory Prompts