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    1. ct 5555 7 yrs ago

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7 yrs ago
Current Hey friends! It's tech week! You know what that means! Replies will be slow af. Apologies.
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7 yrs ago
Don't mind me, just enjoying my smutty fandom 1x1s.
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7 yrs ago
@headintheclouds aye, the Scottish play. I'm afraid to type it, even though I'm far from the theatre. Need that good luck.
3 likes
7 yrs ago
Performing Shakespeare's most cursed play in a haunted theatre on this of all nights. Spoopy.
6 likes
7 yrs ago
Happy Birthday, Carrie Fisher. Miss you, Space Mom.
5 likes

Bio

Fives | 22 | F | gay af

This is my 1x1 thread.

Most Recent Posts

This is really interesting.

At one point, the site died for two years. No, really.

What happened here? Some kind of error? Or did people collectively decide to ghost one another for two years?
Year 19 after the Great Re-Synchronization || Outer Rim

Solae had been tracking this freighter for what must have been weeks in standard Mustafar rotations. Though she was not like her Brothers and Sisters in that she needed to be constantly entertained when tailing her quarry, even she was getting a little impatient. The moment was upon her now, though--it would not do to lose the advantage of all her research. She planned on making quick work of this young Jedi, and adding another notch to her metaphorical Inquisitorial belt.

The moment her brand-new TIE Interceptor emerged from hyperspace, she conducted a scan and quickly located the freighter. There was no time for thinking. Immediately, the Inquisitor launched into action and sent her ship hurtling towards the little freighter. She was able to get two volleys of cannon blasts off on her first pass before her ship went screaming by its target. She wasn't used to the speed of this Interceptor, but she was thrilled by how it quickly it responded to her piloting. Oh, yes, she would have a lovely time smashing this ship, and if her prey cooperated, she might even connect over comms just to hear the pilot beg for her life as she delivered the final blows.

3310 felt lightheaded as the Ithorian squeezed the breath out of her in his attempt to hang on. The panic probably wasn't helping her focus all that much, either. All of a sudden, the armor that normally made her feel like a whole person was too claustrophobic, too ungainly, too heavy. Her vision was starting to tunnel. Her chestplate pinched.

She was about to get blown to smithereens.

Everyone in the corps knew someone who had died. They were military personnel, after all, and though Coruscant was arguably one of the safer locations to be stationed at, they still carried blasters for good reason. She'd lost a few men herself, but without fail, within a few days, they'd be replaced with a fresh face. The squad moved on. You never really looked back.

But when you were about to die yourself, you were kind of forced to confront the idea. As she could feel the plastoid containers clinking against her armor, and she felt the Ithorian scramble for his detonator, she found herself thinking about her mother. Not as she was, but as she had been when 3310 was a child. "You mustn't give up, now, Lya," she would say, voice gentle, whenever 3310 got angry or frustrated (which had been often). "You're very special, you know."

She wondered how her mother would feel when she got the news that her special daughter was blown up, working her menial job at a redundant checkpoint on floor 4000.

She felt herself being pushed off of the Ithorian with great force. The back of her helmet smashed against the ground as someone (or something?) tore them apart, and for a moment she saw stars. Who the hell hadn't cleared when she'd yelled? Now they'd all just get blown up...

Her vision cleared just in time for her to see the Ithorian launch fifty feet in the air and explode with a deafening crack and a puff of gray smoke. She was still so disoriented that she just lay there for a few seconds, watching what was left of him rain down on the checkpoint, thinking about how they'd probably be the ones who had to clean that up later.

After an indeterminate amount of time, she felt herself being hoisted up to a sitting position. Her ears were still ringing from the explosion. "Are you alright?" asked Jack, as she felt the blood rush to her head and she lost all vision for a moment.

"I'm not blown up," she responded dryly, trying to shake the ringing from her ears. "What happened?"

"We don't know--all of a sudden, that psychopath was the air. Everyone's panicking. I didn't see him, but some of your men reported that they saw someone... lifting him? They say he's a Jedi--I sent your squad to chase him down."

"A Jedi?" She'd heard rumors that some of the Jedi had survived the purge thirteen years ago, but she'd never expected to meet one of them, let alone on Coruscant. "Help me up."

"I have two of my boys coming back with a stretcher, don't strain yourself--"

"I said I'm fine, didn't I? Help me up!" she ordered. "If my men are out searching for a Jedi, I need to be too. Those bucketheads can't tell their helmets from their asses if I'm not around. Help me up!"

Slowly, Jack helped her get back on two feet. He even retrieved her blaster for her. She took a few stumbling steps and leaned on a wall as she slowly remembered how to stand. She activated her comm. "MN-882, report!"

"33! You're alright!" came her corporal's staticky reply over the comm. "MN-882 here. There's a Jedi, sarge--I saw him."

"Split up and canvas the area. The only way you're going to catch him is if you corner him... and probably not even then. Set blasters to stun and shoot him on sight. Do. Not. Let. Him. Escape."

"Roger roger!" 882 replied, before the connection went silent.

3310 was left to wonder how she could be at all useful to her squad in this condition. Her head was throbbing, and though she was jittery from the adrenaline, she still felt her armor weighing on her, her blaster heavy in her hand. She moved forward anyway, ducking into a little alley almost at random and following it to the end.

She had always been told she had good instincts, and here she didn't even want to bother with rational thought, so she followed them. She jogged her way through the winding streets of level 4000, jumping over drunks in the gutters and pushing past anyone in her way, desparately searching for the Jedi. Capturing a Jedi would certainly mean promotion for her unit--and though it was certainly a longshot that whoever they were chasing was actually a Jedi, and if he was a Jedi that they would even be able to catch him--she was willing to hope.

Finally, after becoming thoroughly lost, she ended up in a dead end alley. She swore as she came to a stop. She had only been running randomly, but she had felt as if she was getting closer. Her men had only checked in to say that they'd lost him.

She couldn't shake the feeling that someone was there, though. She raised her blaster. "Come out!" she commanded. "Surrender yourself to the Empire or be killed!"
3310 was not happy about her squad’s reassignment.

They’d gotten the news last week, delivered rather unceremoniously by her former commanding officer. The worst thing about it was probably that he couched the news in terms of a promotion, and then had the gall to tell her that they were moving her squad downward almost five hundred floors.

Floor four thousand. She almost couldn’t believe it. “What about the ‘good work’ that my squad was supposedly doing? Why the sudden reassignment?” she’d asked, as respectfully as her anger and shock could allow her at the moment. The officer narrowed his eyes.

“Orders are orders, 3310. It is not our place to question them, but to carry them out. I had assumed you understood that. The infrastructure that you have helped to set up on this level will help a less experienced squad to take up the work that you now carry out, while you attend to your reassignment,” the officer droned, checking something off on his clipboard before handing her a slim dossier. “The details are here. Report to your new commanding officer on floor four thousand at 0800 tomorrow.”

She took the dossier and began to flip through it. A deeper level of the underworld presented new challenges, of course, but 3310 was not on her way down. For the past four years, she’d been working her way up.

The orders were vague. Organize and attend various checkpoints, detain suspicious individuals, attend to the rampant gang violence in the area. She hoped her new commanding officer wouldn’t be so stingy with the details of their new assignment. She delivered the news to her squad, where it was received with much dismay. They all grumbled as they packed their sparse belongings in preparation for the move.

And then, at 0800, they reported. 3310 made certain that everyone was in good order so that they might make a good impression on their new CO. All of them lined up, spotless white armor buffed to a shine, looking the part of a organized, efficient, and dangerous Stormtrooper squad. When their CO finally arrived, fifteen minutes past the time that he was due, she could have sworn he was drunk. She couldn’t imagine how, at 0800, anyone could possibly already be drunk, but CO-225 had to have been, what with his slurred speech, disheveled uniform, and absolute disregard for her squad. He provided no details and simply sent them out to build a checkpoint.

That was a week ago. It had taken them hours to build the checkpoint, and she still couldn’t be sure that it was secure—the Underworld had an amazing number of dark alleys and secret entrances, after all, and her unfamiliarity with the area only exacerbated the problem. They had been teamed up with another squad, led by a gigantic sergeant who insisted she call him “Jack.” He knew the area. She couldn’t say that she enjoyed his company, however.

And here they were. Minding a checkpoint on level four thousand. A checkpoint that had so far found nothing worth detaining anyone for. 3310 swore it was the most insignificant work she had ever done in the Stormtrooper Corps, and her first assignment was cleaning bathrooms.

“Stand here,” she ordered an Ithorian male, who then proceeded to not stand where she had indicated. “Here,” she repeated, indicating the spot.

The Ithorian said something in Ithorese. Did he not have a translator?

“Here,” she indicated even more obviously for the Ithorian, and when he still didn’t move, she gave him a shove into place. “Identification?”

Obediently, and thankfully without another word, the Ithorian handed over his identification holopad. So he could understand basic, he was just being stubborn. Two could play at that game. 3310 scanned the holopad and began to look over the files within. Then she looked them over again. She had only really started to physically look over the holopad to delay the Ithorian, but now something was striking her as fishy about the files.

“Stand here,” she ordered, shoving the Ithorian to her right before flipping through the files again. Yes, there it was—it was faint on the display, but the expiration date on the identification had passed. But then, why had it scanned? Well, no matter—at least processing an expired ID would be a nice change of pace from what she had been doing for the past week.

The heat of the blaster just barely skimming her armor hit her before the sound did. She looked up from the datapad, and saw the blaster in the Ithorian’s hand. Her reaction was nearly instinctual—she didn’t even bother to raise her own blaster, but tackled the Ithorian to the ground, attempting to knock his weapon out of his hand in the process. He was screaming and the sound was piercing her eardrums. She hoped her squad was running to back her up, because any chatter in her helmet was drowned out by the Ithorians’ throaty voices.

She had him on the ground, but as she struggled to kick the blaster away, she realized that beneath the Ithorian’s clothes were patches of something hard. She scrambled to get a glimpse, any sort of indication of what he was hiding. Her stomach had dropped through the floor, but she had to confirm, or else—

She saw the wires and the hard plastoid containers. Explosives.

“BOMB!” she tried to scream over the Ithorian’s blasted double-throated yelling. The Ithorian gripped her by the shoulder and pulled her close, not letting her escape.


A Star Wars 1x1 about Rebellion and the Coruscant underworld between @ct 5555 and @Heat.
@ELGainsborough Thanks for the advice, Mr. Gainsborough. I was lucky enough to come just after Guildfall the first time I joined, so I'll make sure to keep backups.
Current status: searching for partners!

Hey. Call me Fives. Welcome to the thread.

I'm 22, a woman, and super excited to be here. I've just re-joined RPguild after a hiatus of about three years, but now I'm ready to dust off the ol' keyboard and get back to writing. Back then, I was really into the high casual-advanced writing scene, but it was honestly mostly about character development as opposed to length. I'm really interested in RPing with people who like to challenge their partners and take the lead in RPs when necessary. My general rule for RPing is the same as the golden rule for improv comedy: "yes, and." Obviously, powerplaying and metagaming and all that bullshit is the opposite of what I'm into, but I want to develop a world together, so feel free to hit me with your ideas. I have some pairings listed below, but if you have an idea, expansion, or a revision to anything I've written, feel free to let me know. Great stories are built on great communication.

In general, I'm interested in fantasy, sci-fi, fandom, and drama/slice of life RPs. Romance is great, but at least buy me dinner before our characters sleep together. I love me some FxF, but I also love FxM or MxM, depending on what the story requires. I play all genders.

Decent grammar is required, and maybe three fairly decent paragraphs minimum per post. I won't have time to post every day, so I don't expect you to, either. I really like being able to think over my posts for a while, anyway. I love making character sheets. I prefer forum posting (I just think it looks nicer?) but obviously if we're not going to fade to black we have to go to PMs, which is fine.

Anyway, let's get to the good stuff. Parts in red would be my preferred part, if there's nothing in red, I could play either.



These lists are under construction. I'll be adding more pairings and fandoms as I think of them.

Thanks for sticking around. Hope to hear from you.
@Nallore Hey, thanks. I just might take you up on that, haha.
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