#oc: greyias highwind

[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?”

#rated N for NOBODY #swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #Theron Shan #Female Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython #lana beniko #t7-01 #gault rennow #Smuggler/The Voidhound #the medical droid love triangle saga #oc: greyias highwind #oc: draike highwind #otp: adorkable #swtor #fanfic #greyfic #goodbye everyone i'm going to superhell #i have committed grievous wordcrimes against you all #i will show myself out #unedited and unbeta'd #we die like men #or droids in this case #fun fact: i generated those special bot descriptions for several droids #but could only figure out how to fit in two without this just devolving into incomprehensible emojis

[greyssketchbook]

Attempted to do a quicker painting/redraw of an older piece of art.

2022 vs 2018

#greyart #my mistake #was not stopping to find good references #and trying to do most of this without reference #sorry you look like a giraffe grey :( #maybe i'll do another shot at this later after working on a few more studies #oc: greyias highwind

[confettininjabean]

Happy early birthday @greyias !!!! <3

#my art #friend’s oc #friend's oc: greyias highwind #happy early bday #i have no patience lol

[elveny]

I always felt like my Jiune (right) and @greyias would have been good friends at the academy ;)

A little smooth between friends for OC kiss week ^_^

#oc: jiune #jedi knight #swtor #my art #oc kiss week #greyias highwind #greyias #elveny draws

[km-fullmoon]

To some of the best and nicest people I’ve ever known, thank you!

@storyknitter Jedi Knight Vassanna

@greyias Jedi Knight Greyias

@phinney28 and I’s OC we came up yoinks ago, Mizu

#seriously #you guys are so supportive #and are some of the best friends I've ever had #so thank you <3 #I wanted to get this up before I go back to college #other ppl's OCs #my art

[greyias]

I absolutely adore @caffeinatedrogue's art, and was so lucky to be able to snag a commission slot and get this gorgeous piece of art of Theron Shan and my Jedi Knight. Thank you so much!

#theron shan x jedi knight #otp: adorakble #oc: greyias highwind #seriously have been admiring her art for years #and was over the moon to be able to get a piece done #you cannot imagine my flailing and squee #this has already made its way onto my iPad lock screen #i adore this style so much #the use of color and light #and just those expressions #absolutely perfect depiction of my favorite dorks #♥♥♥

[greyias]

"Would you listen if I asked you to be careful?"

#theron shan x jedi knight #oc: greyias highwind #otp: adorkable #grey's silly swtor tag #kotfe #every single dialogue option in this scene is gold #but that one always gets me #in addition to that dopey smirk the outlander gives #gif

[greyias]

Precious Life Day Traditions

Angering a gift droid on the Promenade until he starts pelting you with never ending snowballs, then using your baby sister as a human shield for the next five minutes until it respawns.

#just draike things #one day #i will find a way to turn this into a fic #or commission someone to draw this (when i have the funds) #i genuinely do this every year #because it makes me laugh every time #oc: draike highwind #oc: greyias highwind

[greyias]

Constellations from the One Word Prompts :D

 If someone's only exposure to the life of a spy came from action-packed, high-octane holodramas, they might have a mistaken impression that it is a life filled with glamour and intrigue, with dangerous liaisons with seductive individuals from the farthest constellations of the galaxy.

These people would be wrong.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Theron grabbed the Wookiee’s hairy foot just before she could clamber into the air vent that he’d been eyeing as part an elaborate fantasy to escape his current hell. “And for the last time, Vrack, you’re not supposed to climb the walls.”

She let out an indignant series of growls in Shyriiwook, but he didn’t care. If he couldn’t leave, the Force be damned if anyone else was. 

He was Theron Shan, intergalactic super spy, founding member of the Alliance, savior of the Republic many times over. And now he’d been reduced to this: incompetent babysitter of what had to be the rowdiest and most ill-behaved group of school children in the entire universe. 

Oh, according to the paperwork, Class 5A-B7 were all star students from Coruscant’s most prestigious primary school who had performed so well on their exams that they’d won a class trip to tour the Gav Daragon, personally helmed by their personal hero, the beautiful, brave, famous Commander of the Eternal Alliance as part of a PR event the Republic was putting on to gin up morale as the war with the Sith Empire ground on. Unfortunately for everyone involved, she had been called away on an urgent mission for the Republic just as the class had been boarding the shuttle for the Gav Daragon. Somehow, in the chaos of the crying children, Theron had been nominated to take her place.

And now chaos reigned.

Theron blamed Jonas Balkar. He didn’t know how exactly, but he was certain his former partner and now the Alliance’s frequent liaison had somehow pulled some nebulous strings to put him in this position.

The teacher, a kindly old Ithorian teacher, had peeled off to take the little Twi’lek boy with a bladder the size of a koja nut to the bathroom. It had to have been the fifth time the kid had to pee, and would have been concerning if Theron didn’t have his hands full trying to keep the remaining dozen children from killing themselves the moment their teacher’s back was turned.

It had started with Klee Khze, the nine-year-old Rodian girl who had apparently stolen a stealth field belt from one of her parents and smuggled it in. She was now using it to pop in and out of sight, sneaking up on her classmates and destealthing in right in their faces in order to make them shriek at the top of their lungs. She would make an excellent SIS agent one day.

At least she was staying with the class. Theron had somehow lost sight of the little Pantoran kid, Dva Shek, and had been trying to not panic as he peeked around the museum’s large exhibits to find where he’d wandered off to, when out of the corner of his eye, the tiny Zabrak child had inconceivably clambered up onto the platform in the center of the room that was three times his tiny size, and was climbing into the cockpit of a shuttle that had been parked on display.

“What are you—” Theron was forced to abandon his hold on Vrack as he raced across the room. “Kerrah, get down from there!”

Like the rest of the pack of brats, Kerrah paid him no heed, and had clambered into the cockpit, her tiny hands nimbly dancing across the controls. Time seemed to move almost in slow motion as the once best operative in the SIS, and now the galaxy’s worst babysitter, leapt high just as the engines from the old shuttle hummed to life and started to slowly rise from the platform. 

Theron heard a different child let out an undignified squeal of fright as he awkwardly half-landed on the still lowered boarding ramp chest-first. Air whooshed out of his lungs as his fingers wrapped around the edge of the boarding ramp and painfully pulled himself the rest of the way onboard. Behind him, another child, it could have been Klee, let out a whoop of delight.

There was no time for him to either catch his breath, nor find any small solace that at least now the children were finding him interesting enough to actually cheer for, as he scrambled to his feet and lurched towards the cockpit. He staggered as the plating beneath his feet shuddered and managed to get into the cockpit just as another panel lit up brightly.

“Kerrah, no!”

The Zabrak shot him a toothy grin, finger hovering over a red button. “Kerrah, yes!”

He tried, he really did, but she was too fast for him, and before he could snatch her hand away from it, she was able to let off a small volley of missiles from the display unit. A small but noticeable explosion echoed throughout the room as the missiles blew a hole in the wall beyond them.

It was a minor miracle that wall just led to the back halls of the museum, and not the vacuum of space.

By the time Theron had got the small shuttle landed and firmly march Kerrah back out to the rest of her classmates, she was still grinning triumphantly. The stunt had apparently impressed Klee, who became visible long enough to give her fellow troublemaker a well-deserved high five, and whatever compliment she was giving Kerrah was being drowned out by the hysterical sobbing of Vell Zud, the timid Bothan boy who was now convinced they were all going to be sucked out into space.

“Mister Theron!” A reedy voice called, somehow pitching their voice higher than Vell’s wails. “Mister Theron, I need some help!”

O what fresh hell is this? Theron thought grimly to himself as he turned to locate the source of the voice, and sadly, was not disappointed with what he saw.

“Ravo,” he yelled as he once again found himself racing back across the expanse of this room of nightmares that was cleverly disguised as a museum, “how the fuck did you get behind that force field?”

Somewhere, a child gasped at the profanity coming from their chaperone.

“I dunno.” The Mikkian shrugged her pink shoulders as she tapped the giant Cormium Crystal next to her. “But the door behind me closed when Kerrah tried to kill us all with that missile.”

“I did not!” The indignant cry came from across the room, barely audible over the terrified keening that hadn’t stopped. “It was an accident!”

Theron pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling a deep breath as he tried to gather the frayed edges of his dwindling patience. “I just need you all to stop doing everything for five seconds so I can think—”

Before he could finish that thought, a loud, whooping cry drowned him out, and as one, the room’s occupants looked up in confusion to see a tiny blue Pantoran dragging a massive dodecahedron glowing metal cube behind him. “Can you believe I just found this datacron in the back halls? It’s super heavy and was really hard to get across that giant chasm — why do they even have giant death pits here? It’s so unsafe! Luckily, I just so happened to have a MGGS and was able to grapple…”

There wasn’t even time to process the absolute insanity of that, before his attention was grabbed by the sound of the lift heralding the arrival of several new figures. From the hulking figure of the museum’s security guard, to the absolutely puzzled expression of the teacher and the student she was escorting, as they took in the rampant destruction that had happened in the fifteen minutes that Theron had been left to watch the kids.

Somewhere behind him, a sharp clang echoed as a piece of twisted metal fell from the wall where it had been hanging precariously after the missile strike. That was the precise moment where he gained an acute understanding of what it must have felt like to be Ngani Zho all of those years ago, having to deal with an equally precocious child.

"Look, there's a good explanation for all of this."

It was late, much later than she had anticipated, when Grey had managed to find a moment to herself to try to hopefully salvage the situation with the class trip. The shattered and crestfallen looks on all the children’s faces when she’d had to leave had been absolutely heart wrenching. But like clockwork, Theron had swooped in to help, agreeing to take her place. Her hero, always and forever.

As exhausted as she was after rescuing Arn and addressing the crisis on Manaan, and still trying to shove down the dread at what she might find once she reached Elom, Grey still summoned a convincing enough smile into place as she dialed the frequency of Miss Chobbets’s holocomm hoping that maybe a few words from her would help ease any lingering hurt feelings. 

The elderly Ithorian's face shimmered into life over the holo, and she held up two silent fingers to her twin mouths, a wry smile creeping across her features. Without a word, she swiveled the camera to show a view of the school's shuttle, and Grey's own strained smile melted into something far more genuine.

Tucked away in the back of the shuttle was Theron, his head drooped in slumber as an entire gaggle of exhausted schoolchildren snuggled up to him. The little Wookiee let out a loud snore, but the rest of the group didn't seem to rouse.

"I take it they had a good time?" she asked quietly.

"Oh, very much so," Miss Chobbet said quietly.

"I am glad," Grey replied. "Do pass on my apologies to the class again. Perhaps once this situation is dealt with, we could reschedule another trip."

"Oh, that won't be necessary," Miss Chobbet rumbled. "We're all barred from ever returning to the museum, anyway."

"Wait, what?"

"Don't worry, it's not important," the Ithorian continued. "Although would Mister Theron be available to chaperone future trips? The children seem quite taken with him."

As she watched the wavering image of her slumbering husband and his napping charges, hear heart melted just a little more. When faced with a scene like this, how could she argue? "Of course… just promise to take a holo of this for me."

#swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #Theron Shan #Female Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython #oc: greyias highwind #otp: adorkable #swtor #fanfic #greyfic #one word prompts #fic two days in a row! #(although this is far less polished)

[greyias]

First time running Terror from Beyond with @villainship's ops group, and I have to say, those cutscenes have some great reaction shots.

Also, I'm glad to finally have some context on what's happening with that Gree Hypergate regen item. The things you learn when you finally start playing ops.

#also it's funny watching cutscenes with that outfit on grey #it looks like she's going to burst out of that shirt at any moment #risking a warddrobe malfunction #on a high stakes mission #all in the name of fashion #oc: greyias highwind #i also finally met the infamous kephess people never shut up about during dev streams #completely out of order when you actually meet him for the first time #but at least i have some context for the guy now #grey's silly swtor tag

[greyias]

Prompts for Days: 41. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

A semi-sequel to this fic. Based on my original very incorrect theory on what horrible creature might eat my beloved turtle son in the Rishi stronghold.

The sand was soft and fine under Theron’s feet, and the breathtaking blue waters of Rishi lapped at his toes as the waves fell in succession on the shore. He and his wife walked over the shore, their fingers laced together, the warm sun and summer breeze dancing in their hair. It was another beautiful, balmy day in this slice of paradise that Theron still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the fact that it was theirs.

This was their first visit to their secret little hideaway on Rishi, purchased on an impulse during their honeymoon. The deep ding into their savings still smarted every time he logged into their account — but it was worth every credit, to see the wide, beaming smile on his wife’s face as they walked down the Defender’s boarding ramp to look out on their home away from home.

He’d had to arrange for a proper inspection, furniture delivery, and all the less than ideal aspects of home ownership before they’d had to return to “real life” on Odessen. As a result, they hadn’t had time on their honeymoon to explore the breadth of the property. Although he had managed to sneak in at least one “celebration” up on the balcony that overlooked the magnificent view that was now technically “theirs”. 

This second trip, though, was all about relaxing and enjoying themselves. They were taking it slowly, savoring the seclusion and paradise that was their little slice of heaven. They ambled along the shoreline towards the unexplored edge of their property, and the large sea turtle who’d been sunning itself on the rocky part of the shoreline noticed the two humans and lumbered in their direction.

But despite the moniker lovingly given to him by Grey, “Speedy” was having difficulty keeping up with their pace.

Her face lit up on seeing Speedy — really, half the reason they had bought this place was just so he could see that look on her face, again and again. Their pace was forced to slow as she gushed over the little guy, telling the turtle about how much she’d missed him. If Theron didn’t know any better, he’d almost think the creature actually understood her.

“That’s quite the smile you’ve got there, Theron Shan.” She squeezed his hand, the wind blowing the loose strands from her ponytail around her face. “What are you thinking about?”

“Just admiring the view,” he said, pulling her a little closer so she would realize he wasn’t talking about the beach, or that damn turtle.

Her cheeks flushed red, freckles on her nose crinkling as she tried to duck her head. “I’m—”

“The absolute best view here on Rishi? Mm, yes, I’d have to say so.”

“You’re just trying to get me back up on that balcony again.” The red flush deepened ever so slightly.

“Would that be so bad?”

“Later. When Speedy has gone back to his cave. I don’t want to mentally scar him.”

“He’s a turtle. I don’t think he cares.” He looked down at the reptile in question. “Isn’t that right, Shell-face?”

“Theron, it’s a turtle. He doesn’t speak Basic.”

“You’re the one concerned about his mental health!”

“He still has feelings!”

“So do you,” he leaned in close, voice low and husky, “and I’d like to explore them.”

“You’re incorrigible.” The crimson flush spread down the column of her neck, and turned her head with a flutter of her eyelashes.

“Is that a no?”

“It’s a ‘not yet’. I still want to see where that path leads.”

“Pretty sure it’s a dead end,” he replied, letting her hand slip back into its familiar place against his palm as they wound their way down the shady, rock-lined footpath at the edge of the beach.

A thin trickle of seawater made its way back into the perimeter of their property along the path. The trek was made more hazardously slick by the loose, damp sand that coated the terrain.

“It almost looks like a drainage ditch,” Grey mused idly. “Was that on the plans?”

“I left my datapad back in the apartment,” he reminded her. “You said no work.”

She huffed out a breath. “This is a vay-cay-tion.”

“And yet we somehow still spend it finding new adventures,” he shot back.

“You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Well, that was true. With Grey around, Theron’s life had never been boring. A vacation was all about recharging and enjoying the finer things in life; spending time together and getting to know one another in a way that was impossible in the constant chaos that was their daily lives.

Although he should have known that nonstop adventures came with the territory of marrying a Jedi. He had just hoped for their vacation adventures to be more of the bedroom variety. 

They continued to carefully pick their way along the path, until it reached what looked like an old, rusty drainage pipe jutting out from the edge of a cliff, a large metal grate blocking the way.

“Looks like the end of the road,” he said.

“Hold on,” she said, pulling her hand out from his as she frowned, approaching the grate. “I think... There’s a note here?”

“A note?” Theron frowned. “On a sewer grate? Why would anyone bother to leave a note there?”

She shushed him, leaning forward to peer at a large sign that had been nailed in the center of the grate. Her hand brushed across the sign.

“It’s a notice of some sort.”

“What kind of notice?”

“Caution,” she read out loud, “do not open. It’s always hungry.”

“Hungry?” Theron frowned. “What is always hungry?”

“It’s...” she trailed off, a frown stealing across her features as she suddenly straightened, like someone had plucked a string on an instrument only she could hear. “It’s big.”

“It? What is ‘it’—?”

That’s when he heard the eponymous ‘it’ — the deep clack of large claws snapping, and the low thunder like rumble of large legs stomping from the darkness, as a giant cove crab lunged at the grate. The thing was massive, at least twice the size of the shaclaws that roamed Sky Ridge Island and Raider’s Cove. Its large, muscular legs seemed almost small compared to the menacing claws that could easily crush any creature unfortunate enough to cross its path.

Kind of like them.

Grey leapt back in one graceful movement, speed enhanced by the Force that flowed through her. The metal creaked and groaned as the beast flung itself, trying to grab at easy prey.

“Yeah, I would say that thing looks hungry,” he shouted, his hand instinctively going towards his hip where his blaster usually sat, but only brushed against the slick material of his swim trunks.

Right. Vacation. 

Meaning he’d actually, for once in his life, left his weapon back up at the apartment—they both had. Because this was meant to be a relaxing trip. 

The metal on the grate groaned as the crab flung itself at the metal separating it from its breakfast. It had clearly been installed a long, long time ago — and public works hadn’t exactly been a strong point on Rishi since the pirates had taken over. From the amount of rust on the grate, the sea air had been corroding the metal for some time.

“I don’t think that’s going to hold much longer,” he said, as the mass of claws and spikes kept throwing itself at the barrier.

Even as he said it, the metal on the grate gave another great groan, and the panel burst outwards towards them. In the split moment before it fell, Grey had leapt backwards, yanking Theron with her. They tumbled across the rocky path before both scrambling to their feet to face the now free and very hungry monstrosity.

The crab snorted, the thick, green carapace on its back shuddering as it chittered, then lunged towards them. With instincts borne from a lifetime of battle, they avoided the claws that snapped at them, just barely as they tried to maintain their footing on the slippery sand.

“We should probably run,” Theron said. “Seafood is not really my thing. And you’re a vegetarian.”

Humor was how Theron coped, even in, or especially if the timing was horrible. She shot him a glare even as she propelled him down the path with a shove of the Force.

“Go!” she shouted.

That was kind of the plan they both had in action, but as he turned around, he saw that she had stopped following, and instead had planted herself square in the crab's path.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Distracting it,” she called over her shoulder. “Save Speedy!”

“Speedy?” Theron sputtered. “You want me to save the damn turtle?”

“He’s our friend,” she called, as she dodged a swipe of claws, “and I’m not letting the poor thing get eaten! There’s no way he’ll be able to outrun this thing!”

Theron frowned. She was right; he supposed. The turtle would have no chance of escaping the crab’s grasp. “But—”

Grey leapt into the air, the jump propelled to unnatural heights by the Force. The crab opened its claws, missing her by a hair’s breadth as she flipped mid-air. She arced over its head before landing gracefully on its shell.

“Have you lost your kriffing mind?” Theron shouted.

“Go!”

She was not making a suggestion. She was giving an order. He snorted an angry breath, but knew that there was no arguing with her when she switched into heroic Jedi mode. He charged back down the path, hoping to maybe find something he could turn into a makeshift weapon against the giant crab — only to see the shell of one, stubborn and clearly unwary sea turtle peek around the corner as it steadily made its way down the path after his human friends. 

“Oh, for the love of—!” Theron cursed as he ran towards the stupid reptile. “No, Speedy! Get back!”

The turtle just gave Theron a wide-eyed, almost confused look, as he wrapped his arms around the animal’s shell and attempted to heave it up into his arms—and nearly threw out his back at attempting to heft five hundred pounds of stubbornly immovable Testudine.  

“Speedy,” he growled, “you need to go on a diet!”

Theron abandoned his attempts to carry the animal out of harm’s way and instead tried to push the turtle back towards the beach. Speedy just blinked at the spy, and Theron could swear he looked offended. 

“Just go!” he yelled.

Speedy blinked at him once. Twice. And then, at turtle-like speed, took a step towards the beach. Then another. Theron looked back over his shoulder at the giant crab bearing down on the both of them.

Seeming to finally sense the danger, Speedy peered its head in the direction Theron was looking, took one look at the beast lumbering towards them—and retreated into his shell.

“That is not helpful!”

He was going to die.

Eaten by a giant man-eating crab as he tried and failed to protect a blasted sea turtle. It was, quite possibly, the most embarrassing way to go. His only comfort was that he would be too dead to hear anyone mock him about it.

Theron looked up from his failed attempts to move the stubborn turtle, and watched as the beast coming towards them suddenly veered away as if directed to by an unseen force—or rather, the Force. He spied his wife, still atop the crab, holding her hand out, as if directing the creature’s movements. 

It passed by man and turtle without a second look, heading down the path and towards the beach. Theron scrambled to his feet, leaving Speedy behind as he tried to keep pace.

Despite the crab’s best efforts to buck Grey off, she kept her balance. As the massive beast hit the wet sand, she braced her feet against the carapace and pushed off with all her strength, flipping high into the air as it crashed into the waves and kept on swimming.

She landed in the soft sand, panting, hand still held out as if still directing the beast with the Force.

Theron finally reached his wife and caught her in his arms before she fell to her knees. She flashed him a grateful smile, before turning a worried gaze at the green shell disappearing off into the horizon. “I hope that isn’t a mistake to send it that way.”

“Well, I hope it eats those stupid pirates,” Theron muttered petulantly.

“Theron Shan,” she admonished. “Don’t be mean.”

“Yeah, well,” he brushed her bangs out of her face as he looked her over for any signs of injury, “after dealing with a crab the size of a rancor, I’ve earned the right to be a little cross.”

“That was not exactly what I had expected to find,” she admitted.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“I’m all right,” she assured him, and then smiled so wide that her nose crinkled, “and so is Speedy.”

“Yeah, not for lack of trying.”

“You’re still my hero,” she said, as she rose to her feet and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Enough of a hero to get you back out on that balcony?” He asked, pulling her closer.

“Hmm,” she considered, leaning into his embrace. “You were pretty brave.”

As if on cue, the turtle poked its head around the corner, looked at the couple, chirped, and then made its way over to his rescuer. Speedy nudged Grey’s hand with his head and then made a little huffing noise before he rubbed his shell against her hand.

Theron rolled his eyes, trying his best not to smile at the cooing noises she was making as she pet the turtle. 

“Next time, I’m leaving you with the crab.”

“Aw, he doesn’t mean that,” she assured Speedy. “He’s just grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy,” Theron protested as he pulled his wife closer to his embrace. “Just ready to get back to our vacation.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” Grey agreed, as she closed her eyes and leaned into her husband’s embrace, and absently run her hand over Speedy’s shell.

Together, the three of them watched the sun as it continued its slow ascent into the sky, basking them in its warm glow. And for this moment, at least, all was calm and peaceful. Just the two of them, enjoying a tranquil tropical morning.

And a giant, cowardly turtle.

#swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #Theron Shan #Female Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython #speedy the turtle #oc: greyias highwind #otp: adorkable #ha! finally found a prompt that i could make this fit #i emerge from my creative slumber #to give you a mostly prewritten fic #thank you for the prompt! #anonymous #swtor #fanfic #greyfic

[greyias]

FIC: Smoke and Mirrors - Chapter 19

Title: Smoke and Mirrors Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T Genre: Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn Synopsis: Something’s rotten on Carrick Station, and Theron won’t rest until he  finds out what. But picking at the frayed threads of suspicion quickly  unravels a conspiracy much larger than even the Republic’s top spy can  handle on his own. (A mostly canon-compliant retelling of the Forged  Alliances storyline, as seen through the eyes of Theron Shan.) Author’s Notes and Spoilers: See Chapter 1.

Chapter Index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | Crossposted to AO3

Sense memory was a funny thing — a sound, or a smell, or even a humid sea breeze could rewind time. Theron didn’t consider himself to be overly nostalgic or sentimental, but the moment he stepped off the shuttle, and the salty, humid sea breeze on Manaan took him back. He hadn’t set foot on this planet in over a decade, but for a moment, it felt like he had never truly left.

Nostalgia probably wasn’t the right word — his time on Manaan hadn’t exactly been the high point of his life. He’d made his way here after he’d left Haashimut and the Order (or they had left him—details details). It was before he’d even been recruited into the SIS. Just him and his teenage angst against the galaxy. It hadn’t all been bad, though. Even in the darkest moments, he still had some fond memories. Like the exhilarating rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins the very first time he raced through the swoop tracks, or those times he and one of his few friends from the minor league circuit would sneak out to the docks so they could watch the sun set over the endlessly crashing waves.

He blinked away the past, taking in his current surroundings. Things had chanced in his absence; time had a way of always marching on. Everything looked a little different at this height, less grand and imposing, and more… mundane. He didn’t remember any of the storefronts lining the Mercantile Plaza, nor recognize any of the faces milling about. The pristine fountains still sparkled radiantly in the sunlight, but even their beauty didn’t seem to match up with his memory. Perhaps it was because despite the pleasant weather and the tang of the sea in the air, he could still feel the oppressive weight of the local government in every interaction he spied upon. From the signs boldly declaring the many rules of off-world visitors, to the wariness lining the faces of the non-Selkath citizens milling about. Ahh, the telltale signs of a xenophobic and isolationist state. He’d definitely not missed that part about this place.

He slipped into the crowd milling about the Mercantile Plaza with practiced ease. It was a trick he’d employed many a time back in his first time here, but now he had over a decade of fieldwork under his belt. While humans were an abundant species on most planets, here on Manaan they were a bit more of a novelty, one of those weird, hairy, land-dwelling aliens. In his experience, a lot of Selkath had difficulty distinguishing between humans. Most of the population lived happily under the waters below, and saw little the outside galaxy by the design of their controlling government. In that way, being a human both drew attention, yet also provided cover. Something an experienced spy could use to their advantage.

The trick was to blend in by standing out. Act a bit like a lost tourist refusing to ask for directions, walk with confidence as if he knew where he was going (which he did), but also pausing occasionally as if looking for landmarks. It worked, and no one gave him a second look. He had got through customs almost laughably easy, the documents he’d forged for his cover identity passing with flying colors. It had also been almost too easy to guide the conversation with the customs officer so that Theron could obtain information on Darok. Just a lot of wide, toothy smiles, vapid blinking, and incessant babbling about his work and vacation plans. That was just the kind of guy that Tev Fith was.

He couldn’t check the grin at the name he’d chosen, part of the reason for his many toothy smiles with the customs officer. If she’d been around, he was fairly certain that Teff’ith would have threatened to shoot him over it. Or maybe just taken a shot on principle alone. And wasn’t imitation supposed to be one of the greatest forms of flattery? She should be more appreciative of his attempts to include her in his undercover work. In a way, she was helping him save the Republic again.

He could just hear the “Stupid Theron” being muttered in the back of his head. It nearly made him laugh again.

The intel was good, though. Darok had arrived only two days prior, so while a little behind, Theron was on the right trail. The Colonel had also put in a request for him and another individual for deep subsurface travel starting tomorrow. Odds were good that Darok’s travel buddy was Darth Arkous. If Theron stuck around the Plaza, it was possible he might even catch the two of them out in the open — of course; the opposite was also true.

That would just be embarrassing if he was spotted. Best to be careful and observe, wait for his backup to arrive. Speaking of… he needed to double-check the whereabouts of the Defender. If Darok was heading down under the surface tomorrow, it meant that something was about to go down, and Theron fully intended to be there. It’d be nice if his asset was there too, just in case her fancy lightsaber skills were called for.

While forging his identity documents, Theron had also taken care to rent out a little office space in Tev Fith’s name. Just a little space off the primary thoroughfare of the Mercantile Plaza, but still on the main network. A good op always needed a proper base of operations. Preferably one with better climate control than deep in the bowels of a Force enhanced Sith alchemical warship. As “fun” as it was to save the Republic in nothing more than his skivvies again, he really ought to be more properly dressed if he was going to have company. Something told him that his current Jedi operative would be a little less nonplussed about it than Gnost-Dural had been.

It took Theron most of the morning to slice into Manaan’s mainframe without tripping any security protocols. He’d been able to confirm Darok’s lodgings, which were thankfully far enough away from Theron’s little base so they wouldn’t accidentally bump into each other on a caf break. But still close enough for the spy to monitor him.

The government here liked to keep a very close eye on outsiders, meaning there were security cameras almost everywhere. It was both a blessing and a curse in this situation — in that it restricted Theron’s movements outside of his little office, but also allowed him to keep a digital eye on his targets. It was tedious work, especially as he had to more or less track the security feeds, since he didn’t want to risk installing any code on the mainframe that might give away his presence in the system. But that was the job sometimes — for every pulse pounding minute of action, there were several hours of monotony leading up to it.

So Theron watched the feeds, following both Darok and Arkous around the Mercantile Plaza with his many digital eyes. Their permits to head down to the underwater facility weren’t until the next day, so he was fairly confident that they wouldn’t disappear on him completely. However, Theron wanted to be sure he knew all the players in whatever game they were playing. They were likely killing time, and seemed to have dropped the pretense of not knowing each other, as they apparently didn’t think they were being observed.

(Heh.)

With one eye, he watched them go about their day and make preparations for whatever they were up to beneath the ocean’s surface, while he tried to pull what information he could on the facility they were heading to. Documentation on Genetics Laboratory G-1 was sparse, and there was almost no public information available on the mainframe. Its actual purpose and speciality beyond “genetics” wasn’t listed anywhere. Not even Darok and Arkous’s clearance papers seemed to list what they were doing. Curious.

There was more traffic in and out of its surface level office, and didn’t seem to be much in the way of passengers or visitors, so that must have meant freight. Slicing into the customs database took more time, and didn’t exactly yield any jackpots of information, but from the amount of equipment and supplies, it seemed to be a research facility of some sort.

Although what stolen Rakatan artifacts, secret labs, and traitors to both the Republic and Empire added up to, he still wasn’t sure.

That same funny feeling was still nagging at him — that he was missing some small, but key piece of information that would tie all these pieces together. If he only had more solid information about Arkous, how he had even crossed paths with a Republic SpecOps officer, just find that intangible something—he was sure all the puzzle pieces would click into place.

His camera snooping finally failed him near the end of the day, as both Darok and Arkous settled in a place that was practically in a blind spot to the cameras, a far corner of a cafe in a busy section of the plaza. It was impossible to tell if the action had been deliberate, but considering they had been in plain sight of the cameras for the rest of the day, it was probably just dumb luck. Either way, it still meant he had to abandon the anonymity of the office if he were to continue his surveillance.

Sunsets on Manaan always had an air of mystique about them. A briny tang carried on a soft ocean breeze. The gentle lapping of waves against the plaza’s platform had a calming and almost hypnotic effect that seemed to draw the surface dwellers out in droves. Large crowds packed the plaza, taking to the cafes and outdoor restaurants as they tried to sneak in one last meal and the peaceful atmosphere before dusk set in. There was basically no nightlife to speak of, at least up on the surface. Rowdy revelry from off-worlders wasn’t exactly something the government wanted to encourage, so most everyone wrapped up their business by dark and headed back to their rooms.

Theron picked a table where he couldn’t immediately be spotted by his quarry, but could still make them out. Luckily, this cafe had its menu on a ridiculously large datapad that he could hide behind if it seemed like they were looking in his direction, but so far, he hadn’t had to deploy that flimsy excuse for a disguise. 

Despite their unintentional evasion of the cameras, amongst the backdrop of the crowd, they stood out like a sore thumb. Darok’s massive size and pale bald head were immediately recognizable and made an almost hilarious counterpoint to Arkous’s more slim figure and crimson skin. The big man’s wide shoulders seemed like they barely fit the small table the two conspirators had taken for their evening meal, and his massive, beefy hands nearly dwarfed a small cup of tea. Darok seemed distinctly uncomfortable as he tried to drink from the tiny cup without slurping. His Sith co-conspirator meanwhile seemed perfectly at home, somehow taking up more room than his large companion, like he was used to stretching out and taking up as much space as physically possible.

If Theron’d had more time to set up proper surveillance, he could have maybe installed a listening device near their table, so he could make out whatever they were talking about. From this distance, he couldn’t even read their lips without getting close enough to do so could risk tipping them off to his presence. So unfortunately for now, he would have to watch from afar, keeping his attention split between his quarry and his surroundings, and hope they wouldn’t slip his surveillance net again. 

Not that either of them could go very far, considering the physical limitations of the plaza, but he wanted to be sure there weren’t any other actors in whatever game these two were playing.

The streetlights were just beginning to click on, and the weight of dusk settling across the sky when something… something felt. Off. Not that nagging missing puzzle piece that had plagued him since this entire thing started — no. This was that uncomfortable itch that would take up residence at the base of his spine, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. It was a feeling that any good operative was well-attuned to.

He was being watched.

Theron made a show of pretending to wipe invisible droplets of sea mist from the screen of the cafe’s giant datapad menu as a cover while he glanced around. Darok and Arkous were finishing whatever amounted to an extravagant meal at this little ocean-side cafe, and the other patrons were just as oblivious to him. 

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, but his ruse with the menu would be too awkward to keep up to glance in that direction. So he set it down and reached for his cup of caf as if he were settling in to savor the evening ambiance. The sip of hot liquid gave him an excuse to turn his head as he caught the flutter of a cape in the alleyway tucked just to the right of the cafe. 

It was only a glance, but that was enough for him to just be able to make out the shape of a caped figure — humanoid, possibly female. A hood obscured the figure's features, but he could just make out a bright flash of blonde hair. That they were skulking in an alleyway automatically gave them an air of suspicion. But the closer that Theron observed them—no, definitely a her, he could see that her focus was on the cafe. Or in fact… the exact same table that he’d been observing.

This woman was also tailing Darok and Arkous too—or worse—was working with them.

The figure straightened, like a marionette on a string, and her head snapped in his direction. For a moment, Theron found himself meeting the unearthly yellow gaze of a Sith, who stared right back at him. 

For the space of a breath, neither of them moved, perhaps both of them just as surprised to see the other. Then the bustle of the crowd broke the impromptu staring contest, and Theron seized the moment to melt into an opening in the throng. With almost practiced ease, he let the crowd sweep him away like he was just another wave crashing against the platform of the plaza. Just like the ocean currents, he didn’t fight the motion of the crowd, and let it carry him along until he could circle around to get a better vantage point on the woman in the alleyway.

He ignored the jostling of the strangers, every sense on alert now. He couldn’t afford to risk any confrontation, not without potentially tipping Darok and Arkous off to his presence and risking the entire investigation. A tiny voice in the back of his mind, one that sounded a bit too much like Jonas Balkar, also reminded him that right now, to not wade too far into these unknown waters. He was here with no backup, and the only person who knew where he was or what he was up to wouldn’t even be aware that he needed help until it was too late.

Right now, Theron was alone — just like he always had been.

By the time he reached the alleyway, the Sith was gone. He looked back to where he’d been sitting and spied another flutter of of a cape at the menu and cup of caf he’d abandoned.

A curse slipped loose as he realized that he’d now picked up a tail of his own. Making a split-second decision, as he was always forced to do when he was out on his own like this, and let himself get carried back off into the crowd. Away from Darok, away from Arkous, and most importantly, away from this mysterious new Sith.

#swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #Theron Shan #Female Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython #SoR Fic O Doom #smoke and mirrors #oc: greyias highwind #otp: adorkable #swtor #fanfic #greyfic #here you go #surprise chapter update #two years later #when will you see chapter 20? #¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #in the meantime enjoy theron and lana's silly mad magazine spy vs spy shenanigans #and my probably wildly inaccurate details about manaan and its government and history #because i throw my arms up in the air at it

[greyias]

FIC: Chance Encounters - Chapter 1

Title: Chance Encounters Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight (pre-relationship) Rating: T Genre: Canon Divergent AU. Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn Synopsis: Even the smallest change can have large, unseen ripple effects. When Theron Shan books a voyage on the Esseles, he has no idea how a chance encounter with a Jedi Knight will change the course of his life. A canon divergent alternate universe examining what happens when Theron and the Hero of Tython meet much, much sooner. Spoilers: The Esseles flashpoint and SWTOR Lost Suns comic. Author’s Notes: This story/verse came about from a plot bunny that my friend @confettininjabean​ came up with, and my muse just took off with. Graciously, she let me adopt this plot bunny that has turned into its own little monster. This first story is a retelling of the Esseles flashpoint/storyline, and further entries will loosely follow some of the near encounters during Theron and the Knight's story as their paths intersect.

Crossposted to AO3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

In the infinite expanse of the galaxy, all things were bound together, irrevocably linked by the Force. To ignore its will was futile, to defy it was impossible. Those who embraced it could connect even the most minute thread to create a tapestry of possibilities. Every single facet of one's life was created precisely when it was meant to be, assembled together with care and precision. For such a being, chance encounters were not coincidences — they were inevitabilities crafted by fate.

Or at least, that’s what Jedi Master Ngani Zho had said once or twice.

Maybe when he was a kid, Theron Shan would have been more apt to believe in that sort of thing. But with how much consideration the Force had given him, he was pretty sure it had better things to do than concern itself with him. The only fate was what he made with his own two hands. It was the way it had always been, and the way he had learned from experience, it would always be.

For example, it wasn't some grand master plan of a mystical all binding energy that had brought Theron to the Esseles today. No, it was a chance fluke that he'd been able to get a seat on this flight out of Carrick Station after he’d had to resort to public transport to remain inconspicuous on his latest mission rather than use his own ship. Normally a more luxury transport such as the Esseles would be out of the Republic Strategic Information Service’s meager travel budget for its agents, especially when there were far more affordable, and overcrowded, shuttles heading to Coruscant.

Theron had just been a bit lucky, getting the ticket by being in the right place at the right time. The seat had been originally booked by some corporate executive who had forgotten to cancel, and he’d overheard the ticketing agent trying to call the man to discuss with him what to do. Wanting to avoid the cramped, uncomfortable shuttle flight, he'd offered to take the seat at an incredibly reduced price, and the agent jumped at the offer.

And now, here he was, settling into a plush recliner seat that seemed to almost mold itself around him, like it had been crafted just for him. If the beds were anything like this chair, it would probably be the best sleep of his life. First, he just had to make it through the standard safety talk, and then he'd be left to his own devices.

Having heard this spiel about a million times before, Theron pulled a datapad out of his pocket and did his best to get absorbed into it so he could block out the bored droning of the crew when the time came. This flight was probably as close to a vacation as he'd get for quite a while, and he intended to fully enjoy it. He had almost succeeded at tuning out his surroundings when the astromech at his side let out a high-pitched whistle in greeting.

Theron and M-6 had been working together on several missions together and the little astromech was probably the closest thing to a consistent partner Theron had within the intelligence agency (if you didn’t count Jonas Balkar — and for the sake of his own sanity, Theron didn’t). He did his best work alone, and his record and reputation spoke to that. So the Director of the SIS tried to put Theron’s considerable skills to good use by not saddling him with the dead weight of another agent who would just slow him down.

Being employed by the Republic’s intelligence wing, M-6 typically kept to himself, so when the normally solitary droid seemed to let out almost a delighted noise of greeting, Theron couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow, letting his gaze drift away from his datapad to see what the fuss was about. An unfamiliar silver astromech happily let out a chirp in response as it wheeled over. Theron gave it a once over, but nothing particularly remarkable jumped out at him. It was a T7-series astromech, although its design was clearly an older model. A little curious, but nothing warranting the almost fannish glee coming from his own droid.

“You lost or something?” he dryly asked the newcomer.

The T7-unit answered with a whistle, and  Theron was familiar enough with droidspeak to be able to mentally translate. Apparently, the droid was attempting to find an open seat for its owner. He offered it a shrug, showing the open seat next to him was available. In what Theron assumed was an affirmative response, the droid let out a cheerful beep before happily rolling away to find its owner. He shook his head and returned his attention to his datapad.

M-6 let out a series of beeps and whistles that more or less translated to “Do you know who that astromech is?”

Theron ignored the question — because no, he didn’t, nor did he care — and valiantly tried to focus on the text on his screen, but the soft padding of boots against the plush carpet heralded the approach of another person. There was a lightness to the steps that indicated a grace and assurance of their owner — and if Theron had to guess from the sound of the stride alone, the individual was shorter than him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of dark blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail as a human woman settled into the seat next to him.

When he glanced over, he caught her doing the same, tilting her head to look at him quizzically with a slight smile. Due to his training, it was almost second nature for him to immediately catalogue and profile her. She had bright and inquisitive blue eyes, which seemed to take in everything they saw. A scattering of freckles graced her nose and cheeks, and despite her somewhat petite frame, she seemed athletic and toned with the lean musculature of a dancer. She was probably a few years younger than him, twenty at most, he guessed. There was an air of eagerness about her that could have been charming for most people — but he knew better than to place his trust in a single glance.

The Republic and Empire might no longer have been formally at war with each other, but all the Treaty of Coruscant had really done was start a now ten years long Cold War between the two superpowers. Both sides had a very robust and active spy network, and one of the first things drilled into any young recruit to the SIS was that any stranger could secretly work for the Empire. Agents were trained to be hyperaware of their surroundings at all times, picking up on the most minute details. A little healthy paranoia went a long way to keeping you alive, not to mention keeping intel safe.

However, the likelihood of this young woman being an Imperial spy was extremely low. He took in the distinctive brown and gold tunic commonly worn by Knights of the Jedi Order, as well as twin lightsabers clipped to her belt. For most people, the sight of a Jedi was a novelty, an uncommon occurrence even before the destruction of their temple on Coruscant during the last days of the war. Now that the Order had retreated to Tython and become even more insular, it was a downright rarity. Again, for most people.

Theron Shan wasn’t most people. 

He schooled his expression so that the instinctual glower and groan wouldn’t come out unbidden, even if the thought of having to make small talk with a Jedi made him want to abandon all thoughts of relaxation and luxury and fling himself into the nearest escape pod. Although that knee-jerk reaction was probably just a little on the melodramatic side. As usual, the Force was not pulling strings for him — it was laughing at him.

All of this happened in a millisecond, and the Jedi gestured to the seat she had taken with the hints of that little smile still quirking at the corners of her mouth. “Thank you. I was beginning to think that I would not find a seat before the safety briefing started.”

Theron gave an inarticulate grunt as a reply, trying to fix a look of practiced disinterest on his face. His experience in the field taught him that ignoring people usually worked, and once they realized you weren't going to speak to them, they would usually lose interest and get distracted by something else. It was one of the easier ways to go about unnoticed while still in plain sight. He made a show of pulling his datapad up to his face as an unsubtle reinforcement that he wanted to be left alone.

“These accommodations are very nice for a transport.” At first, Theron wasn’t sure if she was talking to him, but in the periphery of his vision, he could make out that she had turned to address the silver astromech at her side. “I do not know about you, Teeseven, but I am not used to this kind of luxury.”

The T7-unit let out a series of beeps as a reply that seemed to express something about the luxuries of Senate travel, that were nearly drowned out by a positively embarrassing whistle of glee from M-6. Theron lowered his datapad just a fraction at the commotion to fix his own astromech with an annoyed stare. M-6 either didn’t notice, or care, and spun his bronzium domed head around as if his socialization circuits were almost overheating.

“Oh? I didn’t realize you were so political.”

Another whistle implying it was a long story. Somehow, that seemed to amp up M-6’s overreaction anymore, which Theron thought was nearly impossible at this point. He was almost — almost — tempted to ask what the deal was, when that thought was interrupted by the oblivious Jedi’s continuing conversation with her own astromech.

“Either way, I think we should thank Master Satele for booking this passage for us. I’m sure this will be much more comfortable than taking a public shuttle.”

The whistling agreement of the T7 unit was drowned out by the walls of the wide room seeming to close in at the mention of the Jedi Grand Master. The next breath Theron drew in came as if from star systems away for how little oxygen it seemed to bring into his lungs. A memory of a blinding desert sun, the sands of Haashimut crunching under foot, rose unbidden, but he clamped it down. He blinked once, twice, and expelled the breath forcefully as he pushed his mind out of blind reaction. The past was in the past.

Thankfully, no one had seemed to take any notice of his initial reaction, as the Jedi and her droid continued their conversation, and there was a soft beep from the implant in his ear signaling an incoming message. A second later, a message in text from M-6 was superimposed over his normal vision. In the field, they used this silent way of communication to avoid being overheard, although from the contents of the message, Theron suspected that his droid’s reasons had nothing to do with skullduggery.

That = T7-01!

This time, when Theron fixed the droid with a look, there was no need for words. The high arch of his brow effectively communicated the message of “And I should care because?”

M-6 gave an annoyed whir of his dome before a reply appeared: T7-01 = legend among SIS astromechs for the GenoHaradan case!

Wait. Theron’s brow furrowed. Was this… he quickly pulled out his datapad and tapped out a message that was transmitted back to the droid: Are you fandroiding out on me right now? If you don’t calm down, you’re going to fry your circuits.

M-6 let out an annoyed flat beep and Theron had to quickly move his foot so it didn’t become victim of the astromech’s treads as he determinedly rolled on by to boldly introduce himself to what Theron guessed was the droid equivalent of a celebrity in their midst. 

M-6 gave the Jedi a cheerful beep in greeting before turning to his metallic hero and the two astromechs suddenly devolved into an indecipherable series of happy sounding chirps in what may have been the most obnoxious droid conversation known to man. Normally Theron could keep up with even rapidfire conversations between droids in binary, but it was almost as if they were speaking in some kind of code as it just rendered as gibberish to his ears.

His confusion must have shown on his face, as the Jedi frowned ever so slightly as she turned back to him. “It appears that our astromechs have become fast friends.”

“That’s one word for it,” he grumbled as the barrage of beeps and whistles assaulted his ears.

“Have we met before?” Her brows drew together into a deeper expression of contemplation.

“No.”

“You just… look familiar somehow.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” he said brusquely, acutely aware of her scrutiny and the possibility she was mentally comparing his features to that of Satele Shan. “Just have that kind of face.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but nor was it the complete truth. As far as humans went, Theron was a fairly unassuming individual at first glance. It suited him well. He had the kind of face that allowed him to blend in easily with a crowd, or slip into a role as needed for missions. Pleasant enough to look at, but not necessarily striking enough to immediately be remembered. In fact, his most distinguishing features were probably the cybernetic implants visible on the left side of his face. However, even those were fairly unobtrusive compared to others in the galaxy. He was the type of person who was easily forgotten, someone who could get lost in the cracks with no one really noticing or caring. It was the story of his life.

Whatever she was looking for, she must have found it because the frown lines eased as she extended a hand out to him in formal greeting. “I do not believe I introduced myself earlier.”

Theron stared at the hand proffered in his direction, then back up to the guileless expression on the Jedi’s face. “Do you normally introduce yourself to random strangers?”

“Some might say that a stranger is just a friend you have not yet met.”

Even though he probably should have, he didn’t bother stopping the snort of derision that escaped him. “Look, Jedi—”

“I am a Jedi, but that is not my name.” He just stared at her, which she apparently took as an invitation to continue, as if that was the next logical step in this non-conversation. “It is Greyias Highwind.”

“Well, that’s a mouthful.”

“My friends like to call me Grey.”

“Okay, Highwind,” he corrected himself, but if she had a reaction to his intentional brusqueness and use of her last name, it didn’t show, “so I know your name now.”

Undaunted, she flashed him with a winning smile that was brighter than the Haashimut sun. “And if you tell me yours, then we are not strangers anymore, are we?”

“That’s not how that works.”

With the air of a man done talking, he pointedly and forcefully brought his datapad to bear, as if holding it in front of his face would shield him from this awkward attempt at socialization being thrust upon him. On the clock, and on mission, he might have forced himself to go through the song and dance, come up with some cover identity on the spot if he didn’t already have one in place. But for once, he wasn’t working, and he really didn’t want to put forth the effort. Especially not for some Jedi that apparently was close enough to his mother to be on a first name basis and also chummy enough that the Grand Master bought her tickets on a luxury transport. 

But apparently all of this was too subtle for the now most irritating Jedi that he had ever met to take the hint. “I disagree.”

Apparently, he was being too subtle. Theron dropped the datapad down and fixed her with a look. “About what?”

“That we’d be still be strangers.”

“Well, someone is strange here, and it’s not me.”

“I mean, you are acting a little odd and cagey,” she prodded.

“Maybe I just don’t want to talk to you.”

“But… you are?”

This entire conversation had gone off the rails so quickly, and Theron wasn’t sure how he’d wound up on the defensive after such a stupid, simple question. “Who I am is not any of your business.”

Those expressive eyebrows rose in surprise and maybe a hint of irritation. “I did not realize I was asking for a state secret when I was asking for your name.”

“Yeah, that’s right, it’s classified.” Theron shot back, so much sarcasm practically oozing from his tone that any reasonable person would realize that he was joking.

“Classified?” she echoed in an almost teasing tone that grated even more on his nerves. “Is that a first or last name?”

“Ha ha.”

Theron closed his eyes and sat back in his seat, relishing in the way the plush material gave way and molded to his body. It was going to be a long flight, he could tell. 

The overhead lights dimmed, indicating that the crew’s precheck was almost complete. He cracked an eye open, daring a glance at her. She had one elbow propped on the armrest, chin resting on a lightly balled fist as her eyes sparkled with mirth. Her wide smile emphasized the almost cherubic nature of her features. With the rosy cheeks, the crinkling of the freckles across her nose, for a moment he was struck by how young and innocent she looked. Then she spoke and shattered that illusion.

"So mysterious." Yeah, she was definitely mocking him at this point. Which was probably better than her studying his features with any closer scrutiny and comparing it to the mental image she had of Satele.

A loud ding over the ship’s speakers heralded the start of the safety briefing.

“Saved by the bell,” he said sarcastically.

She shook her head at him and dutifully turned her attention to the nearby screen that went over the safety procedures. She seemed duly distracted by the boring list of emergency protocols. Small mercies. Having been on enough strainers to know the whole thing by heart, Theron tuned it out, choosing to once again try to focus on his datapad.

A trill from his side let him know that M-6 had caught some of the conversation, and apparently the astromech didn’t approve of their little standoff. Theron really could not care less what the droid thought, and endeavored to ignore that too.

As the briefing wound to a close, the gentle hum of the engines starting up filled the cabin, and the ship drifted away from the station’s docking ring. He felt his own body pushed back into his seat as the ship accelerated, the chair once again molding itself to his body. In the viewport, the single dots of stars stretched out into lazy lines indicating that they’d reached travel speed.

Another overhead ding preceded the announcement, giving passengers the all clear to move about the ship. Theron took the chance to beat a hasty retreat and put as much distance between him and the nosy Jedi. With any luck, he'd be able to find a nice quiet spot on the ship where he could get some peace.

Next Chapter

#swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #Theron Shan #Female Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython #oc: greyias highwind #otp: adorkable #au: chance encounters #YES #IT'S HAPPENING #FINALLY #(one edited chapter at a time that is) #(but still!) #(happening!) #swtor #fanfic #greyfic

[greyias]

When your big sister keeps climbing up on the furniture so she can look taller than you

#oc: ben highwind #oc: greyias highwind #grey's silly swtor tag

[greyias]

FIC: Chance Encounters - Chapter 4

Title: Chance Encounters Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight (pre-relationship) Rating: T Genre: Canon Divergent AU. Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn Synopsis: Even the smallest change can have large, unseen ripple effects. When Theron Shan books a voyage on the Esseles, he has no idea how a chance encounter with a Jedi Knight will change the course of his life. A canon divergent alternate universe examining what happens when Theron and the Hero of Tython meet much, much sooner. Author’s Notes and Spoilers: See Chapter 1.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Crossposted to AO3 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

The lift doors opened to a bridge in chaos. Frenzied officers and crew hurried about, shouting at each other across the large space to be heard over the blaring alarms and the unsettling shudders of the ship. Theron hardly had time to take all of this in and process it before Highwind marched from the lift, chin held high and shoulders thrown back as if she owned the place.

She glided through the room, weaving around crew members rushing to their stations. Her grace and ease was a counterpoint to Theron as he struggling to keep his balance as he jogged after her. His boots clanked loudly on the metal plating of the deck, and the ship’s hull shuddered beneath him as it took on another barrage of fire. Near the bow, a console exploded from the impact and sent a large man flying across the deck.

Theron fared better, his landing awkward, but he was able to roll into the motion and spring back up to his feet. None of the swaying or rolling seemed to impede Highwind’s progress, and she reached the crew crowding around the downed officer several seconds before him.

A large red stain bloomed across the midsection of his uniform, his captain’s pips barely visible amid the deep crimson. A younger man — a lieutenant, likely the first officer — knelt at the larger man’s side, gently shaking him and pleading for his captain to hold on. However, from the lack of movement int he large man’s chest, it was clear he was already gone.

“He’s gone, sir.” Another large man, the ship’s navigator, shook his head sadly. “That makes you the senior officer.”

The first officer’s face drained of color as that realization set in. Fear slackened what would have been a pleasantly attractive face if one was the type to go for that clean-cut, well-groomed officer look. That wasn’t really Theron’s type to begin with, and while he couldn’t blame anyone for a moment of doubt, the absolute panic seeming to set in on the young officer was not comforting.

“What are your orders, Haken?” 

“Orders? What orders can I give, Plex?” First Officer Haken almost choked on the words as his eyes darted around the bridge, seeming desperate for another member of his crew to come up with a solution. “Weapons are out. Shields are out. Long-range communications are out!”

“We still have the engines,” Plex said.

“Fat lot of good that will do us with that tractor beam they have us in! We can’t do anything!”

Highwind’s lips pressed together in disapproval, a deep frown settling in across her features. Something seemed to shift in her entire demeanor as she took in the fear gripping the bridge crew, her eyes glinting like durasteel, spine straightening to her full-height — which wasn’t much considering Theron was close to a foot taller than her, but somehow, she made up for the difference with sheer force of presence.

There was something reassuring, almost calming, about the pure confidence she projected, and for a moment even Theron was pulled in under the spell before he forcibly shook it off. Most of the crew had been drawn in though, all eyes falling on the newcomers, and the rising tide of fear seemed to subside before a single word fell from her lips.

The Esseles’s new commanding officer did not seem swayed, the wild panic in his eyes having given way to a different sort of expression that still had an unpleasant edge to it that might become dangerous given enough time and circumstance. There was something about the man that didn’t quite sit right with Theron, and almost instinctually, he stepped up so he was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Highwind.

“The bridge is off-limits to passengers,” he spat. “We’re in the middle of a situation, so escort yourself out!”

Highwind’s hand raised in a calming fashion, her fingers moving slightly in a motion familiar to Theron, as he’d seen Ngani Zho do it many times during some of his childhood adventures.

 “As a Jedi, I came to offer my services in aid of this ship,” she intoned almost too calmly.

“We didn’t ask you for your help, Jedi,” Haken spat. “You and your sidekick can leave.”

“I’m Republic SIS,” Theron said flatly, “not anyone’s sidekick.”

“You smell like a bar,” Haken said. “Not a spy.”

“I’m not—wait, what do you think a spy smells like?” He shook his head, as he really didn’t want an answer to that. “You know what, never mind. Can we please focus on more important matters than spilled whiskey?”

“SIS?” Highwind cocked her head curiously, her surprise melting away some of that pure determination and resolve she had summoned.

“Strategic Intelligence Service.” He dropped his voice to a lower tone, not intending to broadcast any of her ignorance to the entire bridge. “How long have you been a Jedi? Ten minutes?”

“I know what the SIS is,” she volleyed back, brow furrowing at him in consternation. “And I am a Knight of the Republic, not a Padawan.”

Before the conversation could degenerate any further, a loud trill from the comms system cut through the tension in the room. If long-range communications were down, that meant the hailing signal was coming from the only nearby ship — the Imperial flagship that was looming off the bow. 

Haken visibly paled at the hail, but made a signal to the communications officer to put it through. Theron stepped back from the holoterminal’s view as the image shimmered to life. A tall, dark-haired Imperial officer stepped into view, half of his face marred by an unsightly mass of scars. His regal, imperious bearing was typical of most officers in the Empire, but it was clear that he was a Grand Moff based on the colorful array of rank insignia, the blues, reds, and yellows slightly muted by the holographic signal. That meant they were being addressed by one of the highest ranking members of the Imperial armed forces.

Great. This just kept getting better and better.

“This is Grand Moff Rycus Kilran of the Emporer’s Glory.” The lilting, proper cadence of the Kaasian accent could almost be described as pleasant or musical to the ears, but the cold, hard gleam in his eyes offset the image of friendly propriety. “We have disabled your defenses. Do not attempt any resistance.”

The entire bridge crew seemed frozen in place, so it was the Jedi who stepped forward, assuming that same commanding presence from before, as if donning a cloak. “We understand our predicament, Kilran, no one wishes for this to escalate any further. I am sure there is a peaceable solution.”

“Come, come. I think it is fairly obvious that friendly diplomacy was never an option.” Over the holo, a smug, predatory smile blossomed on Kilran’s face. “Now, it has come to the Empire’s attention that your ship is harboring a known anti-Imperial seditionist. One of your purported ‘ambassadors’, Vyn Asara.”

Haken finally seemed to find his voice. “I know every name on our passenger manifest. We aren’t transporting anyone by that name.”

“I don’t know if you’re lying or just incompetent.” Despite the insulting words, Kilran’s pleasant demeanor didn’t waver. “It doesn’t matter, really. My agents have confirmed the ‘ambassador’s’ presence.”

“You have spies aboard our ship?” Highwind asked, as if the notion had never occurred to her.

“Oh,” Kilran hummed with soft amusement, “you will find that I have eyes everywhere, my friend.”

While that wasn’t a surprise to Theron, a prickling sensation crawled down Theron’s spine all the same. He stayed on the edges of the bridge’s holocam, for now content to let the Jedi and bridge crew deal in diplomacy (or lack thereof in this case). He was still trying to slot all the pieces of the puzzle together.

While this might have been Theron’s first encounter with the Grand Moff, he knew Kilran’s name and reputation well from the extensive dossier the SIS had built over the years. The so-called “Butcher of Coruscant” was famous for his brutality — as well as the trail of bodies he left in his wake whenever he striked. If Kilran had gone through the trouble to plant spies on the Esseles and disable its defenses, rather than just blow it away in a surprise attack, it meant that he needed to take this Asara person alive for some reason.

And once Kilran got what he wanted, the rest of them would be space dust.

“Now, my soldiers are preparing to board your vessel. I suggest you let them do their job as any attempt to resist or prevent my men from arresting this terrorist will result in unpleasant consequences for everyone aboard your ship.”

“Unpleasant consequences?” Highwind echoed. “Exactly what kind of threat are you making, Kilran?”

“Oh, it is not a threat, my friend, but a promise. Good day.” With that, the line was cut on the far end and the holo fizzled out.

An uneasy silence filled the bridge in its wake. The heavy barrage of enemy fire had ceased, and it wouldn’t be long before Kilran’s men were aboard via either boarding craft or shuttle. 

“So what are our options?” Highwind broke through the silence.

“We can hand over this ambassador person,” Plex suggested. “If we can figure out who they are.”

“No,” Theron cut in, “the only reason we’re still alive is that they don’t have her yet.”

“But the Treaty of Coruscant—“

“No, he’s right,” Haken scrubbed a hand over his face. “Kilran is famous for his raids that dance right on the line of the treaty. He’s probably broken it dozens of times, but makes sure he leaves no witnesses alive.”

“Then we need to defend the ship,” Highwind nodded, as if it were the most obvious course of action.

“Yes, of course,” Haken said, and dropped his voice. “Look, I’m sorry about before. I’m just in over my head—we all are.”

“Fear is a natural reaction,” she said gently, “but we cannot allow it to paralyze us.”

“What we need,” Theron cut in, hoping to guide the conversation from platitudes back to useful solutions, “is to buy time until we can figure out a way to get out of here.”

Highwind gave him a curt nod. “That is wise. I will head to the primary airlock and make sure that no Imperial soldiers make it on board.”

“By yourself?” Theron asked incredulously. He would grant that her martial prowess against the droids had been impressive, but even he knew there was a difference between self-confidence and stupidity.

“I have Teeseven with me,” she said with a smile, and the little astromech let out a whistle in the affirmative. “He is quite capable.”

“And so am I.” Theron crossed his arms. “I’m coming too. Someone has to make sure no one gets a shot off at you when your back is turned.”

“I would have blocked that shot,” she said calmly. “The Force protects me.”

A humorless snort escaped him that in no way disguised his feelings. “It didn’t look like it.”

Haken coughed awkwardly and then cleared his throat, reminding the two of them of the presence of the rest of the bridge. For her part, Highwind seemed to flush ever so slightly, perhaps realizing she had just shattered that carefully crafted illusion she’d weaved of the calm, confident Jedi. Theron just huffed, but turned his attention back to the first officer.

 “Our long range comms are out,” Haken said, “but I still have contact with our security team. Other than Commander Narlock, most of them have seen little action, but right now, every blaster counts.”

Highwind dipped her head in gratitude, that brief flash of color having left her cheeks. “I am sure their assistance will prove most valuable.”

“It’s very brave for both of you to volunteer like this,” Haken said.

Theron shrugged. “It beats just sitting around like a sitting duck.” 

“Come on, Sparky,” Highwind turned to him, “let’s go save the ship!”

“My name isn’t—“ Theron let out an inarticulate noise of frustration. “Oh, never mind!”

The Jedi flashed a grin that was so mischievous that it made the freckles on her nose wrinkle. That same, light bubbling sensation in his gut momentarily distracted him, and for a moment he could feel the corners of his traitorous lips almost twitch into an answering smile. He shoved that reaction down with a scowl, determined to focus on the task at hand.

Next Chapter

#swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #Theron Shan #Female Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython #oc: greyias highwind #otp: adorkable #au: chance encounters #swtor #fanfic #greyfic #a little shorter chapter this time around

[greyias]

FIC: Chance Encounters - Chapter 8

Title: Chance Encounters Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight (pre-relationship) Rating: T Genre: Canon Divergent AU. Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn Synopsis: Even the smallest change can have large, unseen ripple effects. When Theron Shan books a voyage on the Esseles, he has no idea how a chance encounter with a Jedi Knight will change the course of his life. A canon divergent alternate universe examining what happens when Theron and the Hero of Tython meet much, much sooner. Author’s Notes and Spoilers: See Chapter 1.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Crossposted to AO3 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

If Teeseven had been put out over being left behind for the fight with Ironfist, Grey’s face showed that the news that his Jedi companion was sneaking onto the enemy ship without him was not going over well. Theron couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying - they were communicating on a private channel - but he imagined it was very similar to the earful he was getting from his own droid.

“If anyone asks,” Theron interrupted M-6’s tirade, “I disavow any knowledge of where you picked up that vocabulary.”

The flat, unamused long beep told Theron exactly what M-6 thought about that. He shook his head and glanced over at Grey, who gave a sigh of her own.

“Teeseven says that I am to inform you he expects you to watch my back.” 

“That’s… kind of what I’ve been doing, hasn’t it?”

A smile played at the corner of her lips. “Against your better judgement?”

He gave a half shrug, something resembling a grin threatening to peek through. “Only like ninety percent of the time.”

���I made a whole ten percent? I’m flattered.”

Theron snorted out a breath that could have been amusement as she walked beside him on the way toward the lift that would take them to the hangar bay. The doors were swishing open when a shout came from behind to hold up. As one, they turned to face Haken, who was jogging to catch up with them.

“Hold up a minute,” Haken said as he drew near. “I was hoping to speak with you privately before you go.”

“We’re kind of on a time crunch here,” Theron reminded the first officer.

“I know, I know,” Haken said, “but this won’t take long.”

“What is on your mind?” Grey asked politely.

“I just spoke to Salen down in engineering.” As he said the words, a dark expression passed over the young man’s face as if a shadow had fallen over it. “He told me what Asara tried to make you do. Thank you for stopping her.”

“I know the Ambassador thought she was only doing what was necessary to save the ship,” Grey said quietly, “but regardless of intentions, the ends do not justify the means.”

“You stood up for my crew,” Haken said, “and risked your own lives instead. That’s not something I or my men will forget anytime soon.”

“We were only doing what was right.”

“That being said,” despite the almost measured tone, there was still an unsettling edge to Haken’s voice, “I didn’t stop you to just for thanks, and I’ll make this quick.”

Theron crossed his arms, waiting for the other metaphorical shoe to drop. “We’re listening.”

“I think this plan is going to work.” Haken didn’t even blink, his intense expression not giving way as he stared them down. “With the tractor beam down we’ll be able to escape — but there’s nothing to stop Kilran from hounding us. Unless he finds his target.”

The Jedi’s brow creased, genuine confusion seeming to set in on her face. “I am not sure I follow.”

“Oh, I think I do.” Theron fixed Haken with a look, lips pressing together in a thin line. “He wants us to hand the ambassador over to the Imperials.”

To her credit, Grey didn’t gape openly at the suggestion, but her confusion quickly gave way to a shock that she didn’t even attempt to hide. Remembering his earlier assessment about her bluffing skills, Theron decided it was probably very wise to keep the Jedi away from any gambling establishment, if only to save her bank account.

“Of course I do! As long as she’s on the Esseles, everyone on board is in danger. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of risking all of our lives for that woman.” It seemed that he’d wanted to use a stronger term, but apparently had restrained himself. Which seemed to be the only restraint he was capable of at the moment, as he added. “I can make it worth your while.”

Theron shot a glance over at the woman at his side to gauge her reaction to that. The shock had smoothed away to something a little more neutral, as if she’d gathered enough composure to slip that Jedi mask of hers back into place. But now that he was looking for them, he could see the cracks in it, and the true feelings she couldn’t completely hide. And right now, he was very glad he was not on the recipient of the ire he could see simmering under the surface.

“I would remind you, Lieutenant, that the Republic does not look kindly on bribery.” Grey’s tone was deceptively placid, and if Theron hadn’t seen the flare of her nostrils, even he might have been fooled that there wasn’t an undercurrent of outrage threading through it. “Nor is it the official policy to give in to the threats of our enemies.”

“Right now, all I care about is the survival of my passengers and crew,” Haken spat back at her, “and I’m willing to do whatever is necessary to ensure it.”

“Are you?” Theron piped up. “Because it sounds like you’re wanting someone else to do your dirty work.”

The look that Grey shot him was quick, almost unreadable, before she turned back to Haken, expression softening a fraction. “I understand your anger towards the ambassador, but I would urge you to not let it cloud your judgement.”

“My judgement isn’t clouded!” Haken snapped. “This has to be done — for the good of the ship.”

“Just because a path is before you does not mean it is one you should travel,” Grey said, a hint of gentleness warring with the firm words. “We did not sacrifice those in engineering, and we will not sacrifice Asara either.”

As Haken’s expression bunched up in confusion, Theron added, “Translation: no.”

Haken’s lips pressed into a thin line, features flushing red with anger, and hands tightening into fists as he struggled to rein in his temper. After a few moments, he blew out a breath, his voice coming out more controlled after his brief outburst. “Then you better get going. I’ve wasted enough of your time.”

Theron shot him a look, but before he could contemplate saying anything, a gentle tug at his elbow prompted him to step onto the lift. It was only after the doors slid shut, cutting off the sight of the first officer’s retreating form, did Grey seem to shed that Jedi mask that she’d slipped into so effortlessly. As her head drooped down, her bangs fell into her eyes, partially obscuring her conflicted expression.

“You all right there?”

“Yes,” she said after a moment, absently swiping her bangs back out of her eyes as she turned to face him. “I just don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” It had seemed pretty clear to him, at least.

“How someone can ask us to do such a thing… I just… these aren’t bad people, Theron.”

“Is this your first time outside of the Temple?”

“It is my first mission as a knight…”

Ah. That explained a lot. “The rest of the galaxy is going to be a rude awakening for you.”

“The galaxy is not full of Hakens,” she insisted, almost hotly. “There are plenty of people in it willing to do the right thing, who will risk their lives for those in danger.”

“Really? Because both Haken and Asara were plenty willing to sacrifice someone else just to save their own skin,” he shot back. “When the chips are down, most people are going to look out for themself first.”

The look she shot him had none of the facade of neutrality she put on to play the part of a perfect Jedi. It seemed caught in a three-way tie, as if she couldn’t decide what emotion to project, so just kept wavering between something like compassion or confusion or just pure obstinate stubbornness. Whatever it was, it rankled at that core part of him that would rather crawl into another air duct than be on the receiving end of anything resembling the pity of a Jedi.

“You’re wrong, you know,” she whispered after a moment, finally settling on whatever she was feeling.

He tried to not let his annoyance show, but still felt his nose wrinkle. “I think I’ve seen a lot more of the real world than you. Not everyone’s as self-sacrificial as a Jedi.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed, “but if everyone were only looking for themselves first, you would have crawled into an escape pod—not a ventilation shaft.”

Theron shifted uncomfortably. “That was practical.”

“Was it?”

“Escape pods were already disabled. And Kilran would have shot any ones that managed to eject.”

“And what about the droid that was about to shoot at my back?” Theron pressed his lips together, snorting out an annoyed breath instead of a response. “You talk as if the Jedi are some sort of exception rather than the rule. And yet you act more like a J—”

“I’m not,” he interrupted hotly, with more venom than was called for, before she could even finish that thought. “And you don’t know anything about me.”

Next Chapter

#swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #Theron Shan #Female Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython #oc: greyias highwind #otp: adorkable #au: chance encounters #swtor #fanfic #greyfic #a shorter chapter this time around #the next three are going to be a doozy #two chapters in two days #a pace i will not maintain