The ISD Refiner was almost ready for her new crew: their quarters were prepared, the hangars stood clean and silent for their imminent arrival, the hold was full of consumables. Even the mess halls had fresh coats of paint. The entirety of the ship seemed to wait with bated breath, every detail in place, every hallway swept and gleaming.
Yes, the ISD Refiner was almost ready.
The same could not be said of its occupants.
“For the last time, boy, stop following me!” Darth Vader hissed, one hand on his lightsaber, the other pointed squarely at the mask of his grandchild.
“But—but Grandfather,” Kylo Ren said, edging forward slightly, trying—for the third time that hour—to proffer his own lightsaber, “Uncle Luke said you would sign it for me.”
“He lied,” the dark lord said. His finger shifted targets, moving from the erstwhile Solo child to the uniformed figure that had just walked onto the bridge. “You,” Vader said, his voice well into what any Imperial officer knew as “the death zone.” “I demand you return me to the SWFFA grounds immediately. They know how to treat a Lord of the Sith.” His grip on his lightsaber tightened, the leather of his glove creaking.
“Yep, nope, ain’t happening,” the figure said, her flippant tone contrasting sharply with the neat lines of her white uniform. “Lord Haven and SWFFA are going to be under repairs for quite a while yet. Until then, you and everyone else are stuck in here with me.” She grinned with far too much impudence for someone facing an irate Darth Vader. “Besides, this place will be filled to the gills with shrill, annoying fanwriters by this time tomorrow. You’ll have plenty of ways to vent your anger then.” She sat down in the command chair, ignoring Vader’s hiss of frustration as she scanned the datapad mounted on the arm. “Admiral Piett,” she asked, glancing to the side.
The admiral had been doing his best to become one with the background, but now, most unwillingly, stepped forward. “Yes, er, Tai’shar?” he asked, stumbling over the odd name.
“Coordinator Tai’shar, please,” she said. “At least until I find a better title. I don’t want the fanwriters getting into bad habits. Speaking of, send me that updated list of badficcers, if you would. I want to look over our new… recruits.”
“Aye, Coordinator,” Piett said, turning to his own datapad and tapping it a few times. “List sent.” He stepped back once more, doing his best to avoid any further attention.
“Thank you, Admiral.” Resting her chin on her hand, Tai’shar paged through the list, mentally tuning out the background noise of Kylo Ren’s next attempt at gaining Vader’s signature. It was the usual mix of plausible names, heartily implausible names, and rip-offs of canon characters. She determined, there and then, that every third fanwriter with numbers in their name would be immediately re-assigned to trash compactor cleaning duty, a duty she had, there and then, made up.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, still scanning the list. “This,” she said, over the sound of Darth Vader’s lightsaber activating, “is going to be interesting.”
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In other words, badficcer personas: I need 'em!
To be more clear, this is the "registration" thread for the Star Wars Fan Fiction Academy, Secondary Location (otherwise known as SWFFA2). If you've written Star Wars badfic and want to register your previous badficcer self, or if you just like the idea of being in an OFU and want to create a badficcer self, post 'em below! They can be as much like or unlike you as you wish. Here's a brief form that you can use as a starting point (or ignore and just give a name and nothing else; honestly, either is fine, I just like having something to work with).
Name:
Age:
Description:
Lust Object (if applicable):
Light Side/Dark Side:
Notes:
So, there's that! Big thanks to Badger and Larfen for looking over my short story. Can't wait to see what you all come up with!
-Alleb