A bit of the Hemophilia/R-16 + Real Life
Mar. 19th, 2006 12:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
luchiaWell, I just realized I haven't talked about what's going on with me in the real world for a very long time. Sooo...what's up with me?
The answer? Absolutely nothing. Well, okay, there's The Priest and being utterly apathetic to damn near everything in the known universe and attempting to get well again because I've been WAY too sick for WAY too long, but that's it and not much to talk about.
Considering turning![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
moribrotos into a fic journal sort of thing, because then yay less clutter and stuff and I ain't using the thing for anything else.
But anyway, now the not!snippet.
Title: ...Twilight, maybe? *shrug*
Parts: 1-5/ ??
Fandom: Hemophilia/R-16 crossover. Yes, I'm pathetic. Shush.
Pairings: Reed/Aptsan, Damian/Quinn/Lucas, Lucas/Zackary (aka all the canon ones)
SUMMARY: (Warning: Time Skip!) After the Alliance's final defeat of R-16, Rurniel and Co. have been running for their lives. The Alliance has finally caught up with them, and Rurniel's in critical condition. Reed takes matters into his own hands and calls in his final debt, an old acquaintance named Quinn Johnson-Helldirge...
Reed slammed into the wall, breathing in sharply from the pain, green eyes immediately checking Aptsan.
He was still breathing hard, handling the controls of their tiny ship expertly, gritting his teeth and flicking through the pilot’s information screens at a rate Reed could barely even follow.
“He okay?” Aptsan shouted out over the din of alarms and the muted music that flooded everywhere Rurniel could possibly end up in.
“Still bleeding bad,” Reed reported, throwing himself into the chair opposite weapons control. “He’s out cold, possible concussion, and needs medical attention.” The hum of the console was strangely comforting in a life-or-death situation. “I didn’t want to stimulus him awake just to die.” He knew they were both trying not to notice how empty the bridge felt without Rurniel in his hook-up chair
Aptsan actually laughed. “Aww, Schnookums, ever the caring one.”
“Don’t call me Schnookums,” Reed said distantly, focusing on the analysis of the attacking behemoth of a ship. “Does the Alliance know-know, or just suspect it’s us?”
Another blast crashed into the ship.
“Oh, I’d say they know,” Aptsan grinned ferally.
“Good, then,” Reed said absently, and pressed the big red button.
“Masochist,” Aptsan muttered as the silent whorling of the chargers built up, checking his straps as Reed did the same.
“Brace for impact in ten,” Reed stated.
“Shit, I hate when we have to use this thing…”
“Five.”
Reed’s hands grabbed the handles all stations on The Phantom had, and didn’t even bother with the countdown anymore, the sound was that deafening. Instead he watched the gigantic red numbers counting down as they flickered and wavered in slow motion, from five, to three, and then to one.
For an endless moment, the ship went silent, all the power being sucked into the Atomo-Expansion Dissipater blast (affectionately dubbed “the planet-twister” by Aptsan) before the shriek of metal crushing against metal ripped out of the side of the ship.
The AED didn’t look very impressive- just a single beam of violet light that touched down on the massive Alliance Starglider’s hull, and then a thin ball of light that shot down and exploded half the thing’s side off in a burst of lovely blacker-than-black light with pools of the disconjoined atoms billowing together in clouds.
“You missed the bridge,” Aptsan said.
The jamming frequency from the Starglider cut off abruptly.
“I know.”
---
AD 6220.
With the defeat of the rebel forces known at R-16 at the Battle of Lecae, it seems as if the Alliance has truly won.
The dissolution of R-16 was swift, the established order and pseudo-government falling into small segments of guerilla forces. Some whole divisions stayed together, still considering themselves part of the age-old R-16. Others went off on their own, defeated and disheartened at the loss.
With the invasion of Zisoro in 6218, Alliance forces now occupied two of the four R-16 bases, and had destroyed a third. But it had not come without a cost.
General Rann Sul, the infamous man nicknamed the “Wolf of the Alliance”, had up and disappeared with his vice-generals Beatrix Talos and And Korialis, acclaimed Special Unit Wrey Cross disappearing less than a week later. The death tolls were absurd. Half the space fleet was either in drastic need of repairs or utterly destroyed.
And, quite possibly most importantly, there was still one Grand General of R-16 unaccounted for.
Most considered him killed in action- surely a Grand General wouldn’t up and leave when his base was under attack? Others said his Commanders, known for being helplessly devoted to the man, had knocked him out and shipped him away to safety. Even others said he’d betrayed the rebellion, now working immediately under the High Admiral of the Alliance himself.
But whatever the reason, the fact remained that Grand General Rurniel remained missing, and most likely highly dangerous.
The Alliance wanted him.
And they usually got what they wanted.
---
“Well, one down, three to go,” Aptsan grinned.
“We only had one AED blast left,” Reed stated.
Aptsan’s grin fell off abruptly. “But Rurniel-”
“He can instantly calculate and determine the needed energy into a trillionth of a watt,” Reed said, putting the screen back over the big red button. “All I can do is push the damn button.”
The next Alliance ship- this one a much smaller but much, much faster Nova – blipped onto the screen, hurrying forward from behind them.
“She’s fast enough,” Aptsan said, almost absentmindedly, his long, pointed ears twitching.
“Yes, she is,” Reed said, not even sure he believed his own words as he started calculating trajectories to nearby planets, knowing that even if they could outrace a Nova, there was no way in hell they could outgun it with their final AED blast gone.
Ignoring the jostling on the ship from the Nova’s shots, he scrolled through them, looking for somewhere safe, somewhere Alliance ships wouldn’t dare---
“Warp path 2.43.9766,” Reed shouted out, and Aptsan actually turned to gape at him.
“What the FUCK are you talking about?” he roared. “We are NOT taking Rurniel to a fucking ‘WILDLIFE PRESERVE’.” Even though his hands remained firmly on the controls, Reed could just hear the quotation marks. “And we both know what sort of wild lives they preserve on THAT one.”
“Just trust me for once,” Reed snapped back, green eyes glaring through his near-broken glasses. “2.43.9766. You can kill me later.”
“I’m holding you to that,” Aptsan growled, and punched the coordinates into the warp computer, which did the calculations SO much slower than Rurniel for the warp path.
Reed catapulted himself into the central chair – Rurniel’s – and poised his hands over the communications controls as the swirling pink-purple light shot out of the tip of the ship and tore the gate out of the ether.
With a half-assed prayer, Aptsan sent the ship careening through the gate.
---
“I really, really hate you sometimes,” Quinn Helldirge-Johnson sighed as he stepped back into his boxers, sending a glare towards the bed. “BOTH of you.”
“Now that’s just cold,” Damian Helldirge mock-gasped, a practiced look of betrayal surfacing on his features.
“Cruel,” Lucas Johnson agreed, burrowing deeper into the pillow with an unseen but very apparent grin. “And hot.”
Quinn pegged him with a sock. “BAD twin.”
"Evil twin," Damian corrected. “Sociopath, sadistic, incestuous twin.”
“And it gets you painfully hard,” Lucas stated, one blue eye opening just enough to send a devilish glance at the dark-haired man still in bed with him.
“Damn you and your no-non-Quinn-sex law,” Damian sighed dramatically. “Now you’ll never get to know.”
“Which is why I hate you both sometimes,” Quinn muttered, tugging his pants on and ignoring the blatant disappointment on the other two’s faces while he stepped into his well-worn boots. The white tank top went on after that, and then the suspenders were pulled up, and then the long black and red coat that came standard for any high-ranking person on Hemos.
“Shit, Quinn, that outfit just makes me want to undress you more,” Damian sighed.
“I just put all this work into getting into it,” Quinn frowned. “You are NOT tearing it off with your teeth.”
“But you usually love my teeth!”
“Ten minutes ‘till it’s your shift,” Lucas mumbled into the pillow. Neither of the other men seemed surprised that the other twin knew exactly what time it was, even if there wasn’t a clock anywhere near the bed in their custom cabin onboard The Loyalty. “J will have your head if you don’t relieve him on time.”
“And they’re both lovely, so I guess we better let him go.” Damian was, as ever, genuinely disappointed at the prospect.
“We’re on eight hour shifts,” Quinn reminded him for possibly literally the millionth time. “I’ll be back before Hemos-sunrise.”
“You’re not allowed to die,” Lucas’ muffled voice into the pillow was succinct, completely without humor.
“I know.”
“And you’re not allowed to get some other bastard to fall helplessly in love with you,” Damian said, smiling.
Quinn smiled back. “I know.”
And that’s when the page that sent Quinn Helldirge-Johnson running to his commander’s chair on the bridge blared through the all-ship speakers.
---
They were going to die, Aptsan decided, as he watched the young man (probably fifteen or sixteen at most) in the commander’s chair glare through the communications screen. But all this time spent under the command of someone over forty years younger than him had skewed his perspective of age, so that the Ndhaz judged by rank and power, not age and accent.
It had saved his neck before. He didn’t think it’d help much this time, though.
“And you think we’ll give you sanctuary for what reason, exactly?” A smooth voice with a jarringly courteous edge to it emerged from the young man’s smiling mouth.
“We’ve got a wounded kid- er, teenager onboard that needs immediate medical attention,” Aptsan stated, half watching the young captain’s reaction (which was little to nothing) and half watching the surrounding area for the pursuing Alliance ships.
“I’m sorry, but we have no medical staff on our ship,” the kid said apologetically, but not TOO apologetically. “However, I could give you the warp paths of many dedicated medical are-”
Reed finally pushed the button on his console, the one that turned their ship’s display from Aptsan’s seat to the whole of the bridge, and the boy shut up disturbingly fast.
“Get se…Quinn, please,” he stated. “I’ve got a favor to call in.”
“And who is calling on this Quinn?” the captain asked, voice dripping with barely-contained curiosity.
Reed paused for a minute. “Tyler.”
It was probably the first time Aptsan had ever heard him choose to use his first name with someone other than Rurniel and himself, and most certainly the first time he’d said it over a non-secure channel.
“Hold, please,” the young captain said, and the screen went blank, the sound of both sides muted.
“…you don’t get to fuck us over even more than we already are, you know.”
“I know,” Reed said, eyes distant behind his glasses.
Aptsan quirked an eyebrow up, trying to avoid the ever-hypocritical jealousy biting at his nerves. “And why the hell do you know someone who lives at a ‘wildlife reserve’, anyway? There something you’re not telling me?”
“Many things,” Reed stated. “And at the time he didn’t live here. He came to me.”
Aptsan found he had a death grip on his already-strangled controls. “And what the fuck does THAT mean exactly?” he gritted out.
Reed quirked an eyebrow up. “That I was nine and you don’t have anything to be jealous over other than how I can actually shoot and you can’t?”
He figured a glare and a sharp “fuck off” was enough of an answer to that little comment. This brought about one of their strangely intimate, amicable silences, where Reed smiled just enough to get Aptsan’s stupid heart fluttering and Aptsan knew he was probably leering the shit out of his fellow ex-Commander and that silent feeling of RIGHTNESS fell over them like a warm blanket.
“TYLER!” an unfamiliar voice shouted over the channel, and Reed’s face went utterly blank as he pressed the communications button.
He was blond. Taller than Aptsan, human, and looking at Reed like he was risen from the dead. Which, considering Reed’s track record, might not be far off from what the guy was thinking. Worst of all, he was downright DASHING, and looked like the super-friendly nice guy that charmed you into bed to tear your face off. No, those lips weren’t fooling him, the guy was obviously a native of Hemos with teeth like that.
Aptsan immediately hated him.
“Sensei,” Reed stated in that creepily quiet voice he got into when really pissed, really emotional (please NOT that one or else he’d screw the ship’s power capabilities and AED the blond bastard into oblivion), or really, really cautious or confused. Or if you were talking to the Ghost side of him, but that hadn’t happened since Zisoro fell (and again, if this blond blood-sucker did that to Reed, he’d be AED’d before he could even TRY to send Reed into battle).
“Tyler, get on the ground, NOW,” this Sensei Quinn bastard said, voice almost disgustingly concerned, like he was dealing with puppies or lost babies or something. “You’ve got three Alliance ships gating out after you.”
“Naah, really?!” Aptsan couldn’t help but call out. “Damn. Coulda sworn they were giant butterflies.”
Reed’s small smile was back, and Reed with it. “Joint quarters, please.” Aptsan grinned at the stunned blink that the stupid Sensei barely caught. “And we’ll need immediate medical attention.”
“Understood,” Quinn said in a way that was probably endearing to people not itching for his evil, vampiric neck to be snapped. “I’m looking forward to spending time with you and your, ah, friend when this is over.”
“I bet you are,” Aptsan muttered, and it looked like nobody heard him. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but who really cared? He had a slowly shutting-down ship to land on a planet that was half water, and the other half was either a canyon or a forest.
“…Tyler out,” Reed stated, and with a mutual nod and a final smile from Mr. Happy the channel was cut. “Aptsan, you and Rurniel are making up new identities immediately.”
“Kinda busy here…” Aptsan grit out, running computation after computation through the landing-nav, eyes whizzing past the numbers and trajectories and propulsion and inertial variants-
“Then I’ll make them for you.”
It was a shame Aptsan didn’t hear him over the roar of the craft entering Hemos’ atmosphere, or he would have managed to talk Reed out of ruining their lives for however long they were stuck on the vampiric planet.
----------
Whee, text.
[EDIT] ...Again, Ari, tell me not to do this for R-16. It would be pointless and stupid and I really, REALLY shouldn't want to do it this bad, should I. But then again, I could do more stuff -- BUT NO! GAAAH. I'm a greedy-but-not thing!
*growls at self* Stupid, STUPID brain...
The answer? Absolutely nothing. Well, okay, there's The Priest and being utterly apathetic to damn near everything in the known universe and attempting to get well again because I've been WAY too sick for WAY too long, but that's it and not much to talk about.
Considering turning
moribrotos into a fic journal sort of thing, because then yay less clutter and stuff and I ain't using the thing for anything else.But anyway, now the not!snippet.
Title: ...Twilight, maybe? *shrug*
Parts: 1-5/ ??
Fandom: Hemophilia/R-16 crossover. Yes, I'm pathetic. Shush.
Pairings: Reed/Aptsan, Damian/Quinn/Lucas, Lucas/Zackary (aka all the canon ones)
SUMMARY: (Warning: Time Skip!) After the Alliance's final defeat of R-16, Rurniel and Co. have been running for their lives. The Alliance has finally caught up with them, and Rurniel's in critical condition. Reed takes matters into his own hands and calls in his final debt, an old acquaintance named Quinn Johnson-Helldirge...
Reed slammed into the wall, breathing in sharply from the pain, green eyes immediately checking Aptsan.
He was still breathing hard, handling the controls of their tiny ship expertly, gritting his teeth and flicking through the pilot’s information screens at a rate Reed could barely even follow.
“He okay?” Aptsan shouted out over the din of alarms and the muted music that flooded everywhere Rurniel could possibly end up in.
“Still bleeding bad,” Reed reported, throwing himself into the chair opposite weapons control. “He’s out cold, possible concussion, and needs medical attention.” The hum of the console was strangely comforting in a life-or-death situation. “I didn’t want to stimulus him awake just to die.” He knew they were both trying not to notice how empty the bridge felt without Rurniel in his hook-up chair
Aptsan actually laughed. “Aww, Schnookums, ever the caring one.”
“Don’t call me Schnookums,” Reed said distantly, focusing on the analysis of the attacking behemoth of a ship. “Does the Alliance know-know, or just suspect it’s us?”
Another blast crashed into the ship.
“Oh, I’d say they know,” Aptsan grinned ferally.
“Good, then,” Reed said absently, and pressed the big red button.
“Masochist,” Aptsan muttered as the silent whorling of the chargers built up, checking his straps as Reed did the same.
“Brace for impact in ten,” Reed stated.
“Shit, I hate when we have to use this thing…”
“Five.”
Reed’s hands grabbed the handles all stations on The Phantom had, and didn’t even bother with the countdown anymore, the sound was that deafening. Instead he watched the gigantic red numbers counting down as they flickered and wavered in slow motion, from five, to three, and then to one.
For an endless moment, the ship went silent, all the power being sucked into the Atomo-Expansion Dissipater blast (affectionately dubbed “the planet-twister” by Aptsan) before the shriek of metal crushing against metal ripped out of the side of the ship.
The AED didn’t look very impressive- just a single beam of violet light that touched down on the massive Alliance Starglider’s hull, and then a thin ball of light that shot down and exploded half the thing’s side off in a burst of lovely blacker-than-black light with pools of the disconjoined atoms billowing together in clouds.
“You missed the bridge,” Aptsan said.
The jamming frequency from the Starglider cut off abruptly.
“I know.”
---
AD 6220.
With the defeat of the rebel forces known at R-16 at the Battle of Lecae, it seems as if the Alliance has truly won.
The dissolution of R-16 was swift, the established order and pseudo-government falling into small segments of guerilla forces. Some whole divisions stayed together, still considering themselves part of the age-old R-16. Others went off on their own, defeated and disheartened at the loss.
With the invasion of Zisoro in 6218, Alliance forces now occupied two of the four R-16 bases, and had destroyed a third. But it had not come without a cost.
General Rann Sul, the infamous man nicknamed the “Wolf of the Alliance”, had up and disappeared with his vice-generals Beatrix Talos and And Korialis, acclaimed Special Unit Wrey Cross disappearing less than a week later. The death tolls were absurd. Half the space fleet was either in drastic need of repairs or utterly destroyed.
And, quite possibly most importantly, there was still one Grand General of R-16 unaccounted for.
Most considered him killed in action- surely a Grand General wouldn’t up and leave when his base was under attack? Others said his Commanders, known for being helplessly devoted to the man, had knocked him out and shipped him away to safety. Even others said he’d betrayed the rebellion, now working immediately under the High Admiral of the Alliance himself.
But whatever the reason, the fact remained that Grand General Rurniel remained missing, and most likely highly dangerous.
The Alliance wanted him.
And they usually got what they wanted.
---
“Well, one down, three to go,” Aptsan grinned.
“We only had one AED blast left,” Reed stated.
Aptsan’s grin fell off abruptly. “But Rurniel-”
“He can instantly calculate and determine the needed energy into a trillionth of a watt,” Reed said, putting the screen back over the big red button. “All I can do is push the damn button.”
The next Alliance ship- this one a much smaller but much, much faster Nova – blipped onto the screen, hurrying forward from behind them.
“She’s fast enough,” Aptsan said, almost absentmindedly, his long, pointed ears twitching.
“Yes, she is,” Reed said, not even sure he believed his own words as he started calculating trajectories to nearby planets, knowing that even if they could outrace a Nova, there was no way in hell they could outgun it with their final AED blast gone.
Ignoring the jostling on the ship from the Nova’s shots, he scrolled through them, looking for somewhere safe, somewhere Alliance ships wouldn’t dare---
“Warp path 2.43.9766,” Reed shouted out, and Aptsan actually turned to gape at him.
“What the FUCK are you talking about?” he roared. “We are NOT taking Rurniel to a fucking ‘WILDLIFE PRESERVE’.” Even though his hands remained firmly on the controls, Reed could just hear the quotation marks. “And we both know what sort of wild lives they preserve on THAT one.”
“Just trust me for once,” Reed snapped back, green eyes glaring through his near-broken glasses. “2.43.9766. You can kill me later.”
“I’m holding you to that,” Aptsan growled, and punched the coordinates into the warp computer, which did the calculations SO much slower than Rurniel for the warp path.
Reed catapulted himself into the central chair – Rurniel’s – and poised his hands over the communications controls as the swirling pink-purple light shot out of the tip of the ship and tore the gate out of the ether.
With a half-assed prayer, Aptsan sent the ship careening through the gate.
---
“I really, really hate you sometimes,” Quinn Helldirge-Johnson sighed as he stepped back into his boxers, sending a glare towards the bed. “BOTH of you.”
“Now that’s just cold,” Damian Helldirge mock-gasped, a practiced look of betrayal surfacing on his features.
“Cruel,” Lucas Johnson agreed, burrowing deeper into the pillow with an unseen but very apparent grin. “And hot.”
Quinn pegged him with a sock. “BAD twin.”
"Evil twin," Damian corrected. “Sociopath, sadistic, incestuous twin.”
“And it gets you painfully hard,” Lucas stated, one blue eye opening just enough to send a devilish glance at the dark-haired man still in bed with him.
“Damn you and your no-non-Quinn-sex law,” Damian sighed dramatically. “Now you’ll never get to know.”
“Which is why I hate you both sometimes,” Quinn muttered, tugging his pants on and ignoring the blatant disappointment on the other two’s faces while he stepped into his well-worn boots. The white tank top went on after that, and then the suspenders were pulled up, and then the long black and red coat that came standard for any high-ranking person on Hemos.
“Shit, Quinn, that outfit just makes me want to undress you more,” Damian sighed.
“I just put all this work into getting into it,” Quinn frowned. “You are NOT tearing it off with your teeth.”
“But you usually love my teeth!”
“Ten minutes ‘till it’s your shift,” Lucas mumbled into the pillow. Neither of the other men seemed surprised that the other twin knew exactly what time it was, even if there wasn’t a clock anywhere near the bed in their custom cabin onboard The Loyalty. “J will have your head if you don’t relieve him on time.”
“And they’re both lovely, so I guess we better let him go.” Damian was, as ever, genuinely disappointed at the prospect.
“We’re on eight hour shifts,” Quinn reminded him for possibly literally the millionth time. “I’ll be back before Hemos-sunrise.”
“You’re not allowed to die,” Lucas’ muffled voice into the pillow was succinct, completely without humor.
“I know.”
“And you’re not allowed to get some other bastard to fall helplessly in love with you,” Damian said, smiling.
Quinn smiled back. “I know.”
And that’s when the page that sent Quinn Helldirge-Johnson running to his commander’s chair on the bridge blared through the all-ship speakers.
---
They were going to die, Aptsan decided, as he watched the young man (probably fifteen or sixteen at most) in the commander’s chair glare through the communications screen. But all this time spent under the command of someone over forty years younger than him had skewed his perspective of age, so that the Ndhaz judged by rank and power, not age and accent.
It had saved his neck before. He didn’t think it’d help much this time, though.
“And you think we’ll give you sanctuary for what reason, exactly?” A smooth voice with a jarringly courteous edge to it emerged from the young man’s smiling mouth.
“We’ve got a wounded kid- er, teenager onboard that needs immediate medical attention,” Aptsan stated, half watching the young captain’s reaction (which was little to nothing) and half watching the surrounding area for the pursuing Alliance ships.
“I’m sorry, but we have no medical staff on our ship,” the kid said apologetically, but not TOO apologetically. “However, I could give you the warp paths of many dedicated medical are-”
Reed finally pushed the button on his console, the one that turned their ship’s display from Aptsan’s seat to the whole of the bridge, and the boy shut up disturbingly fast.
“Get se…Quinn, please,” he stated. “I’ve got a favor to call in.”
“And who is calling on this Quinn?” the captain asked, voice dripping with barely-contained curiosity.
Reed paused for a minute. “Tyler.”
It was probably the first time Aptsan had ever heard him choose to use his first name with someone other than Rurniel and himself, and most certainly the first time he’d said it over a non-secure channel.
“Hold, please,” the young captain said, and the screen went blank, the sound of both sides muted.
“…you don’t get to fuck us over even more than we already are, you know.”
“I know,” Reed said, eyes distant behind his glasses.
Aptsan quirked an eyebrow up, trying to avoid the ever-hypocritical jealousy biting at his nerves. “And why the hell do you know someone who lives at a ‘wildlife reserve’, anyway? There something you’re not telling me?”
“Many things,” Reed stated. “And at the time he didn’t live here. He came to me.”
Aptsan found he had a death grip on his already-strangled controls. “And what the fuck does THAT mean exactly?” he gritted out.
Reed quirked an eyebrow up. “That I was nine and you don’t have anything to be jealous over other than how I can actually shoot and you can’t?”
He figured a glare and a sharp “fuck off” was enough of an answer to that little comment. This brought about one of their strangely intimate, amicable silences, where Reed smiled just enough to get Aptsan’s stupid heart fluttering and Aptsan knew he was probably leering the shit out of his fellow ex-Commander and that silent feeling of RIGHTNESS fell over them like a warm blanket.
“TYLER!” an unfamiliar voice shouted over the channel, and Reed’s face went utterly blank as he pressed the communications button.
He was blond. Taller than Aptsan, human, and looking at Reed like he was risen from the dead. Which, considering Reed’s track record, might not be far off from what the guy was thinking. Worst of all, he was downright DASHING, and looked like the super-friendly nice guy that charmed you into bed to tear your face off. No, those lips weren’t fooling him, the guy was obviously a native of Hemos with teeth like that.
Aptsan immediately hated him.
“Sensei,” Reed stated in that creepily quiet voice he got into when really pissed, really emotional (please NOT that one or else he’d screw the ship’s power capabilities and AED the blond bastard into oblivion), or really, really cautious or confused. Or if you were talking to the Ghost side of him, but that hadn’t happened since Zisoro fell (and again, if this blond blood-sucker did that to Reed, he’d be AED’d before he could even TRY to send Reed into battle).
“Tyler, get on the ground, NOW,” this Sensei Quinn bastard said, voice almost disgustingly concerned, like he was dealing with puppies or lost babies or something. “You’ve got three Alliance ships gating out after you.”
“Naah, really?!” Aptsan couldn’t help but call out. “Damn. Coulda sworn they were giant butterflies.”
Reed’s small smile was back, and Reed with it. “Joint quarters, please.” Aptsan grinned at the stunned blink that the stupid Sensei barely caught. “And we’ll need immediate medical attention.”
“Understood,” Quinn said in a way that was probably endearing to people not itching for his evil, vampiric neck to be snapped. “I’m looking forward to spending time with you and your, ah, friend when this is over.”
“I bet you are,” Aptsan muttered, and it looked like nobody heard him. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but who really cared? He had a slowly shutting-down ship to land on a planet that was half water, and the other half was either a canyon or a forest.
“…Tyler out,” Reed stated, and with a mutual nod and a final smile from Mr. Happy the channel was cut. “Aptsan, you and Rurniel are making up new identities immediately.”
“Kinda busy here…” Aptsan grit out, running computation after computation through the landing-nav, eyes whizzing past the numbers and trajectories and propulsion and inertial variants-
“Then I’ll make them for you.”
It was a shame Aptsan didn’t hear him over the roar of the craft entering Hemos’ atmosphere, or he would have managed to talk Reed out of ruining their lives for however long they were stuck on the vampiric planet.
----------
Whee, text.
[EDIT] ...Again, Ari, tell me not to do this for R-16. It would be pointless and stupid and I really, REALLY shouldn't want to do it this bad, should I. But then again, I could do more stuff -- BUT NO! GAAAH. I'm a greedy-but-not thing!
*growls at self* Stupid, STUPID brain...
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-20 05:20 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-20 06:14 am (UTC)I WANT TO DO IT SO BAD AND DEAR FUCK I NEED A SCANNER BECAUSE I JUST DREW AN AWESOME ADULT!RURNIEL AND GAAAH I HATE THIS NO SCANNER THING I NEED ONE ASAP AND MAYBE PHOTOSHOP TOO BECAUSE GRRR DOES MSPAINT SUCK COMPARED TO HAND DRAWING!!!
*sigh*
But anyway, yeah. R-16 community. If you/I/we find one other person interested in it, BOOM, it's there.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-20 03:17 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-20 09:44 pm (UTC)You know what? I'm just gonna make one anyway. Rawr.
I'll tell you when it's up!
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-20 11:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-20 11:20 pm (UTC)(Or I'll just hold all Rurniel-ness hostage until she joins)