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siehnSo, I er. This is shameless, really. I don't know?
This is apparently what happens when I get bored, and get an e-mail saying I've been accepted to test Star Wars: The Old Republic this weekend.
Star Wars is secretly my first love of everything.
The sad thing? There will probably me more of this. At some point.
There were lights flashing all over the place, and the ship was shaking, and how was this even his life? How? He would very much like an answer to that, right now, because if nothing else, it would be nice to know what, exactly, he did to piss off the universe.
“Danny, Danny calm--”
“Do not. Steven, do not tell me to calm my mind, okay, I am really not in the mood for any of your kriffing old-religion whoo-do! They are shooting at my ship, okay, my ship, with my daughter on board, and this would not be happening if you had decided to wait for back-up!” He’s yelling; he knows he’s yelling, loudly, but he can’t help it, okay, his ship is shaking like she‘s half a step from falling apart, and there are laser shots that are far too close for comfort.
“Kono,” he yells through the coms, “please, please tell me you are not going to let them get away with that; if you do not take them out I swear, you are fired.”
“Relax, brah. They’re space-dust,” she yells back, too gleeful, and he is letting her spend way, way too much time with their resident Force-user. Not that he has much say in the matter, and really, sometimes Danny despairs of his life.
“Frack,” he mutters, punching in coordinates to the nav-computer, and hoping like hell that Chin got the hyper drive fixed. “We are going to be so, so screwed if he didn’t; I cannot believe this is my life now, frippin’ hutt-spawn. I was happy out there, as a simple pilot you know!” He’s ranting, whirling around the cockpit frantically to make sure everything is just right for the jump, and Steve is sitting in the co-pilot’s seat, grinning at him.
“What?” he demands, pausing long enough to glare at his partner, “what are you grinning at, huh? This is all your fault, you know. You’re the one who dragged me out here, you scruffy nerf-herder.” They both know he doesn’t mean it, though.
“Yeah, maybe,” Steve says, turning to stare out the cockpit window curiously, watching enemy star fighters explode in time with vicious shouts of glee from the weapon’s mount. “You came, though,” which is true, and says nothing at all for Danny’s own sanity.
“Couldn’t leave you out here on your own, could I? You get into too much trouble without me, babe; there’s no telling what would have happened. You’d have probably blown up a sun, or something just for kicks,” he rambles, breathless, and stills in the moment, glancing up at Steve with a reckless, goofy grin of his own. “Who says you get to have all the fun, huh?”
If Chin didn’t fix the hyper drive, Danny is going to haunt him forever; the man will get no peace ever, and--
“Ready?” He asks Steve, managing to keep from wincing when the ship rocks from a particularly bad hit. If they don’t make it, they’re all dead anyway.
“Let’s do it,” Steve answers, something reckless, and wild, and amazing rising to the surface for the briefest moment. Sometimes Danny forgets that Steve doesn’t have a side, good or bad; that he just is.
“Alright. Everybody hang on,” he shouts through the coms, mostly for Gracie, though she’s old enough to hold her own, and is probably buried somewhere in the engine with Chin, keeping their baby up, and running, and together.
He doesn’t bother checking the coordinates again, just punches it, and the stars zoom by as they hit light speed.
This is apparently what happens when I get bored, and get an e-mail saying I've been accepted to test Star Wars: The Old Republic this weekend.
Star Wars is secretly my first love of everything.
The sad thing? There will probably me more of this. At some point.
There were lights flashing all over the place, and the ship was shaking, and how was this even his life? How? He would very much like an answer to that, right now, because if nothing else, it would be nice to know what, exactly, he did to piss off the universe.
“Danny, Danny calm--”
“Do not. Steven, do not tell me to calm my mind, okay, I am really not in the mood for any of your kriffing old-religion whoo-do! They are shooting at my ship, okay, my ship, with my daughter on board, and this would not be happening if you had decided to wait for back-up!” He’s yelling; he knows he’s yelling, loudly, but he can’t help it, okay, his ship is shaking like she‘s half a step from falling apart, and there are laser shots that are far too close for comfort.
“Kono,” he yells through the coms, “please, please tell me you are not going to let them get away with that; if you do not take them out I swear, you are fired.”
“Relax, brah. They’re space-dust,” she yells back, too gleeful, and he is letting her spend way, way too much time with their resident Force-user. Not that he has much say in the matter, and really, sometimes Danny despairs of his life.
“Frack,” he mutters, punching in coordinates to the nav-computer, and hoping like hell that Chin got the hyper drive fixed. “We are going to be so, so screwed if he didn’t; I cannot believe this is my life now, frippin’ hutt-spawn. I was happy out there, as a simple pilot you know!” He’s ranting, whirling around the cockpit frantically to make sure everything is just right for the jump, and Steve is sitting in the co-pilot’s seat, grinning at him.
“What?” he demands, pausing long enough to glare at his partner, “what are you grinning at, huh? This is all your fault, you know. You’re the one who dragged me out here, you scruffy nerf-herder.” They both know he doesn’t mean it, though.
“Yeah, maybe,” Steve says, turning to stare out the cockpit window curiously, watching enemy star fighters explode in time with vicious shouts of glee from the weapon’s mount. “You came, though,” which is true, and says nothing at all for Danny’s own sanity.
“Couldn’t leave you out here on your own, could I? You get into too much trouble without me, babe; there’s no telling what would have happened. You’d have probably blown up a sun, or something just for kicks,” he rambles, breathless, and stills in the moment, glancing up at Steve with a reckless, goofy grin of his own. “Who says you get to have all the fun, huh?”
If Chin didn’t fix the hyper drive, Danny is going to haunt him forever; the man will get no peace ever, and--
“Ready?” He asks Steve, managing to keep from wincing when the ship rocks from a particularly bad hit. If they don’t make it, they’re all dead anyway.
“Let’s do it,” Steve answers, something reckless, and wild, and amazing rising to the surface for the briefest moment. Sometimes Danny forgets that Steve doesn’t have a side, good or bad; that he just is.
“Alright. Everybody hang on,” he shouts through the coms, mostly for Gracie, though she’s old enough to hold her own, and is probably buried somewhere in the engine with Chin, keeping their baby up, and running, and together.
He doesn’t bother checking the coordinates again, just punches it, and the stars zoom by as they hit light speed.