Nov. 30th, 2006 08:57 am
rogueskeptic: (bathtime)
Joined [ profile] sixwordstories.

Stories for it may be found here.

Also joined [ profile] libraryofwinds.

Responses found here.
rogueskeptic: (thinking)
Hobbie was the skeptic, the pessimist, but he wasn't a worrier. He expected things to be bad, but he didn't worry about them or that they would. Things could always be 'worse than that' and it didn't bother him. It just... was.

He didn't worry whether a mission would fail, because he accepted that it could. Of course, he also accepted that they were Rogue Squadron and had and did and would again do the impossible. But he didn't worry about it.

He didn't worry about whether he'd die. He figured he'd have to eventually, law of averages, his luck was already worn thin with as many things as he'd survived -- Wedge's cooking, Wes's pranks, far too many battles, too many crashes, too many dead friends. That was why he wasn't as careful as the rest of them, why he ended up taking bacta baths more than any one person had a right to. He wasn't worried about dying and he didn't let it hold him back.

He didn't worry what others thought of him, the guy who should do bacta endorsements, the dour one, the skeptic. Whatever. No worries on that count.

He didn't worry about whether they'd win the war or not. For all his skepticism, he believed they would, knew it deep down in his gut, there were no second thoughts. They were, after all, Rogue Squadron who did the impossible and if they were on the Alliance's side, they couldn't lose. Period. Even if it took a long, long time. Even if people died. No matter what.

All in all, only one thing could worry him. One. Little. Thing.

Not death. Not fighting. Not war. Nothing so galaxy-spanning.

No, what worried him?

That smile of Janson's.
rogueskeptic: (just hanging out luv)
Comment here with your characters' name and I will tell you what Hobbie thinks of them. (If they have met or interacted, of course.) This could be mun and pup knowledge!


Jul. 29th, 2006 09:27 pm
rogueskeptic: (laughing)
Haiku2 for rogue_skeptic
yesterday he had
to get there to explain to
beat the stupid out
Created by Grahame

Stolen from somebody.

Fic Thingy

Jun. 27th, 2006 02:14 pm
rogueskeptic: (snow)
[inspired by the "Try again. Fail again. Fail better." prompt at [ profile] licenseartistic]

He ran home as quickly as his legs would take him, his bag full of school things thumping against his back with every step he took. His breathing was heavy, but he didn't dare stop or slow. One of his datapads had lodged in his bag awkwardly and one of its corners kept jabbing him in the kidneys as he ran but still, he didn't dare stop to fix it. He was expected at home just after school with hardly enough time to walk back home when he was able to leave the school on time. Today, his last teacher had held the young teen after class, wanting to ask him some inane questions about how things were going for him at home that poor Derek had hardly paid attention to since he had been continually keeping a nervous eye on the wall chrono. When the teacher had finally let him him leave Derek had cursed under his breath upon noticing the time. Late. He'd already been late when he left. He ran as hard as he could, hoping he wouldn't notice his son coming home a few minutes later than he should be.

No dice.

His father was waiting for Derek as the boy came walking in, panting, sweaty, red in the face, and bedraggled. Derek froze when he saw his father there looking at him, stumbled over his words as he tried to explain his tardiness, and found himself abruptly cut off when the older man had made a curt gesture with his hand.

"What time are you supposed to be here, boy?"

Shakily -- were his knees wobbling from nerves or was he just that tired from his run? -- he answered his father, "Four sharp, sir."

Lazily, drawing this out, the man looked down at his chrono and then just as as slowly, he asked, "Four sharp, you say? Then why are you eleven minutes late, I wonder?" He raised a finger as Derek again tried to explain and continued on talking as he cast a critical eye over his son's appearance, "I do believe you must have been talking with your friends again, ignoring my rules. You noticed what time it was and tired to run home and sneak in. You probably hoped I wouldn't notice." The older Klivian leaned forward until his face filled Derek's field of vision as the man hissed, "but I always notice, don't I?"

The boy swallowed, eyes wide, and nodded, "Y-yes, sir." He was practically cringing but held himself still, knowing that to pull away would only appear as evidence of further insubordination on his part.

The elder Klivian smiled, though that smile seemed to stretch his face unnaturally and certainly didn't make it to his eyes, "Exactly. You can't keep anything from me." He paused and looked critically at his sone once again, "go to your room. You're not to leave it until time to go back to school tomorrow. And you'll go in those clothes." As Derek nodded as respectfully as he could manage and turned to trudge up to his room, he thought he heard the man behind him say something self-satisfied about seeing if his friends would still want to talk to him when he smelled like a hog.

What friends? young Derek wondered helplessly. But at least it was just no dinner and no breakfast and dirty clothes (with no bath). At least he wouldn't have to explain away any strange bruises. Except the one just over one of his kidneys from that damned datapad.

The next day, he'd somehow managed to suffer his way through each of his classes and watching everyone around him eat their lunch at noontime. He'd had nothing for dinner, nothing for breakfast, and his father had forbidden his mother from giving him a packed lunch or even a few creds to buy something in the caf. But now, now as he gathered up his supplies and tossed him into his bag in record time, he was determined to get home early that day, his mind on the hot shower and the evening meal that awaited him. He was almost out the door when he heard his name called.

"Mr. Klivian."

He despised being called that, it reminded him too much of his father. Slowly, he turned to the teacher, desperately hoping she just wanted to hand him something he'd forgotten.

No dice.

She was looking at him with a strange expression on her face, at his rumpled clothing and mussed hair. He realised two things as he faced her. One: she wasn't handing him anything. Two: that strange look was pity. Damn he said inwardly. Outwardly, he only said, "yes, ma'am?"

"I'd like to have another word with you."

He couldn't let her keep him late again. Couldn't be late again, so the words just spilled out of him, "Oh no, ma'am. I've got to get home right away, my da's waiting on me and he'll be awful upset if I'm not there on time." Fifteen minutes, he shot a desperate look at the chrono. He only had fifteen minutes to get home. It had taken him that long to run it yesterday. He had to leave now. He almost turned to go and damn whatever consequences she gave him when there was her hand on his shoulder, stopping him. And still she wore that pitying look.

She said, "I wanted to talk to you about your father, in fact."

Why? His father had nothing to do with him here at school except that he had to get hom or face his anger! "What about him?"

"Are you sure everything is okay at home, Derek? Yesterday you seemed a little...preoccupied."

He was babbling again, saying anything, hoping she'd just shut up and let him go. Maybe if he was only a minute late he could be okay. Maybe his father's chrono was slow today or the one here was fast. Maybe dancing jawas would fly out of his rear end. "Oh, it's fine. Same as always, nothing's changed, he's just kind of strict is all. Okay, he's really strict but that's nothing new and if that's all you wanted to know I can be getting home now."

He was halfway to the door when she stopped him again with her words, "I've seen the bruises you haven't been able to hide, Derek. Your stories about how you got them are creative for sure, but I don't believe them."

He turned back to her with a deer-in-headlights expression, "What are you talking about?"

She continued, "No good parent would let their child come to school in unwashed clothes, eitehr. This isn't the first time. They tell me you didn't have anything for lunch today either." She shook her head, "I couldn't just watch and not say anything, Derek. I've taken the liberty of sending a letter to your home detailing my concerns."

If his eyes were wide before, they were as wide as dinner plates by this point. Oh no. oh no oh no oh no. "Why did you do that?! You had no right! He's going to-....oh kriff!" Derek didn't wait for her to say anything else or to stop him agian. He just ran, pushing himself farther even than the day before to run even faster. He had to get there, to explain, to beat the letter, to...

Halfway there, the boy wavered, almost fell, unable to continue running, stumbled, and then fell for real. He couldn't hold the blistering pace when he hadn't eaten in over a day. Still, he picked himself up and tried. And fell. And tried again.

And late that night, as he lay curled in a broken and bloody ball on the floor of his room, harsh angry words echoing in his ears Why'd you go tell some busybody teacher what goes on in our family, huh? Are you stupid? What kind of son are you? I can't believe you're mine! I'm just gonna haveta beat the stupid out of you, aren't I? he couldn't help but think that even when people thought they were helping, they never ever were.


Jun. 17th, 2006 11:29 pm
rogueskeptic: (sad)
[just a little drabble written a while back about Hobbie's thoughts about Wes going off with Wedge and the Wraiths. How's that for alliteration?]

Tycho was okay, really. He was one of Hobbie's closest friends, one of the original Rogues. He understood things these...newbies didn't. He knew when Hobbie needed to be left alone and when to drag him out for drinks. He was a fair leader and the best choice Wedge could have made as a replacement while Antilles was off with his little experiment. Tycho had been through things Hobbie hated to even imagine. He was a good man and a good friend.

But he wasn't Wes.

And Wes had had to go running off with Wedge and his new squadron of screwups. Intellectually, Hobbie understood perfectly well why Tycho had been chosen to leade the Rogues in Wedge's absence, why Wes had been chosen to go with Wedge, even why he, himself, had needed to stay here.

That didn't mean he liked it. That didn't mean he liked it at all.


Mar. 24th, 2006 10:26 am
rogueskeptic: (sexy)
Hobbie's bored.

He's bored and discontent and wants to get out for once. himself?

He tried that on Coruscant. It didn't work well. But...he didn't want to call Wes.

Scratch that. He did want to call Wes. But he wasn't going to.

He couldn't be dependent on Wes for the rest of his life, could he? What kind of person did it make him if he couldn't at least attempt to socialize with other people without Wes around?

So...he doesn't have her number, but he digs up the email soon enough and settles down to type.


I actually don't know if you remember me. But I seem to recall something about ice-skating and Wes mentioned a while back? I think Wes is busy, but I'd like to still go with you, if you want.


Short. To the point. Vintage Hobbie.

And, after a moment's hesitation, he actually sends it.
rogueskeptic: (laughing)
What does being in love feel like to you?

Almost every night they find a new bar. Almost every night they find new and inventive ways to get drunk. Some nights it's Hobbie who finds the fight, sometimes it's Wes. Some nights are spent quietly. Some with others, and sometimes they brin ghome "friends" and sometimes they don't, but one thing is always the same: they go home together.


They've flown together for so long that they can predict the other's moves before they happen. In or out of an X-wing, even. Alone, they aren't the best pilots out there, even if they're pretty damn good if Hobbie says so himself. But together? Together they're unstoppable.


Wes has come up with some new insane something or other and Hobbie rolls his eyes but doesn't protest any more than that. He'll always be there to help Wes out. With anything.


There are times in the dark of night when one or the other is beset by nightmares and old memories. Neither is ashamed to cry and the other isn't embarassed to open his arms.


Wedge looks at them both, exasperated yet secretly amused, as usual. "You are not the Solo twins. Stop that!"

It's Hobbie who grins at Wedge this time and comments cheekily, "I don't know, Wedge. There's something to be said for-"

"-finishing each other's sentences," Wes chimes in in perfect unison.
rogueskeptic: (who me?)
[It's all Dia's fault. This is all very very AU and has no bearing on..uhm...anything. It may be simply to kill Cati dead. :)]

It's morning. Hobbie knows this because the alarm is going off.

But to reach the alarm, he has to reach over Janson.

Or...get out of bed, walk around Janson's bed and get to the alarm.

It's easier to toss a spare pillow at the lump that is Wes, "Turnitoff."

There's a please in there...somewhere.
rogueskeptic: (crotch shot)
He used to believe the Force was mere superstition. This surprised no one. They laughed and called him "Hobbie the Skeptic". He didn't mind. He still didn't believe. And why should he? He'd never seen it. Never even seen anyone who used it.

But then he met Luke.

He can't recall a single time he's ever seen Luke with his own eyes use the Force and yet...Luke is one of those people you know without a doubt would never lie to you. And he had accomplished great things. And there was something that you could see in his eyes, something in his presence, that always said he knew just a little bit more about the way the Universe worked than the rest of them.

Hobbie believed, finally, once he met Luke. He didn't tell anyone.

They still laugh and call him "Hobbie the Skeptic".

He doesn't mind. There's still plenty he doesn't believe in.
rogueskeptic: (and then he went this way and i...)
Well, there was the part where Hobbie was shot.

And the part where he thought he'd lost his best friend.

And the part where he was captured by Imperials.

Not to mention the bit where he was thoroughly depressed for far too much of the time.

Can't forget the time he broke his hand punching his best friend's boyfriend fiance lover significant other.

Yep, that's a lot for the 'Cons' column.

But then, he found out he didn't lose his best friend at all (rather far from it, actually), his hand healed up and in the process he found out an old friend was back from the dead. And luckily enough people still think he's alright to have come to save him from the Imperials (though he has been wondering just what they're up to now and if they'll have to deal with them again on the next pass through from Terra to Coruscant). And, honestly, punching Aidan? He enjoyed that. Just a bit.

And he met a new friend (who is really far too perky and in some ways reminds him far too much of a female Wes except not).

And at least he didn't crash.

So, good year, by all accounts.
rogueskeptic: (Default)
He doesn't talk a ton as it is, preferring to let others do the talking.

But sometimes, just some times, there were times he should have spoken.

Times when the right words might have completely changed...everything.

Or at least little things.

Or maybe nothing.

But they were still things he should have said. Things he wishes now he had.

He wishes he could have said goodbye, at least, to all of the friends he's lost.

He sometimes dreams about saying all the things to his father he used to think about over the years. All the things he was too afraid to say.

He wishes he'd said hello. Didn't matter to who, there were plenty of people over his lifetime he could have simply greeted and just never did, people he could have been friends with but hadn't made the effort.

And there was one friend. One friend to whom he spoke to the most and yet waited far too long to say some of the things that mattered the most.

He wishes he had said those things sooner. So yes, they were said, but he regrets they were not said when they should have been.

Perhaps that's simply a note for the future, not to be such a dumbass if the opportunity ever comes up again. With anyone.
rogueskeptic: (Default)

You are a dwarf. A dwarf is a
short and stout creature that resembles a
human. However they are much hairier and
usually can be seen sporting a very long and
thick beard. They are industrious and
hardworking. Dwarves symbolize technology,
diligence, loyalty, fortitude, and ingenuity.

Which mythical creature resides in your soul? (11 Results + Pictures)
brought to you by Quizilla
rogueskeptic: (stare)
from here

Derek returns to Borleias, pulling an Imperial Tycho along behind him. He pauses a moment to look around suspiciously, making sure no one saw them, and especially making sure the real Tycho isn't around. The coast is clear, Derek's all prepared to lead Tycho to the nearest ship that will fit two and show the fucker exactly what he means about Alderaan.

Of course, it's unlikely he'll get that far without an argument first.

And yes, Derek is stubborn and a little crazy, why do you ask?
rogueskeptic: (sulking)
Hobbie sits back, staring for a long time at the prompt. Several times, he starts to write, hand shaking a little, but he deletes whatever he might have been considering saying. How could he tell his younger self about everything that would happen? There was a time, albeit brief, in his childhood when he was, if not happy, content. When he wasn't afraid of his father. When he wasn't often on the run for his life. When he wasn't being shot at and shooting back at people. A time when he couldn't have imagined killing another person, cold blood or not. There was a time when he was a child. Innocent and carefree.

It's hard to remember that time.

He best remembers it around Wes. His friend never quite seemed to have lost that element of innocence and child-like-ness. Yes, Wes was a trained killer and would maybe never be completely fit for 'normal' society any more than Hobbie would be. But Wes could still laugh. Truly laugh.

Hobbie can never quite bring himself to that. Not fully. He always held something back, held something in, afraid to let go, to show too much. Even with those he trusted the most. Even with the one person he trusts above everyone, sometimes above himself.

No, Hobbie can't write of the future to his younger self, he'd rather preserve what few moments of childhood he still holds. Those few, fragile, and precious memories that he holds tightly within.

Instead, he writes simply this:

Dear Derek,

One day you will grow up and seek your life among the stars. There you will find something worth believing in and fighting for and the best friend you'll ever have.

That makes it all worth it.

Trust me,

Your Much Older and Somewhat Wiser Self
rogueskeptic: (and then he went this way and i...)
Derek Klivian, a native of the planet Ralltiir. Left home as soon as he was able to go to the Imperial Academy. From there, he was assigned to the Rand Ecliptic along with Biggs Darklighter and was subsequently involved with the mass defection that occurred, making his way to the Alliance.

Luckily for him, while he was at Yavin IV during the Death Star battle, he was unable to fly at that time and so did not meet the fate of many of his fellow pilots. Unluckily, he still harbors some feelings of survivor's guilt as a result.

He became one of the original members of the infamous Rogue Squadron and flew at the Battle of Hoth. Contrary to some reports, he did not die there. He continued on flying with the Rogues through the Battle of Endor right up until they were disbanded. From there, he was given the task of training new squadrons. However, when it became known that Wedge Antilles was re-forming Rogue Squadron, Derek was one of the first to volunteer for it. His experience with training new squadrons has allowed him to be of some help to Antilles in getting this new group together while his (quite an eternity of in fighter pilot terms) experience in flying makes him quite a natural choice for such an elite squadron. Just don't mention his reputation for crashing and apparent "fondness" for bacta baths.

Derek is known as the 'skeptic' of Rogue Squadron and is probably the most serious and pessimistic pilot one will ever meet. Yes, even more serious than Tycho. This leads plenty of people to conclude that he's A) No fun. B) Going to die an early death not because he gets shot down but because of inherent depression issues related to his inability to seem to be cheerful about anything.

These things may or may not be true.

[So, for differences from his canon. A)He never got the nickname "Hobbie". (yeah, I know very minor). B) He never met his best friend forever man! friend, Wes Janson (who, unfortunately, is an Imperial, alas). Therefore he has missed out on a very major influence in his life, not least of which was that Wes actually got him to have fun. C) He re-joined the Rogues when they re-formed as opposed to continuing training squadrons. ]
rogueskeptic: (glare)
He once tried to shoot someone with a datapad for waking him up too early in the morning.

Understand, in his sleep-muddled state, he'd thought he was using a blaster. Too bad it wasn't.

And, to be fair, certain people had kept him up rather late the night before.

And the guy he was trying in vain to shoot really deserved it. Though he didn't actually realise just how much Darpen had deserved it until later. At least later he got to shoot things. And blow a few up.

But as far as mornings go, most of the time he's just sleepy. Get him some caf and he's about like he always is. Catch him before that morning cup of caf and he' less than 100%. And quite often grumpy. Or at least, he communicates rather often in a rather complicated language consisting mostly of grunts and hand gestures. Only one person is known to have successfully translated this language.

This would be because generally such grunts and gestures are most often directed at that one person and quite often in less than complimentary ways.

So, the gist is, get the man his caf before attempting to converse with him in the mornings. Or before attempting to drag him off on any damn-fool idealistic crazy pranks that are sure to get him in trouble.


Nov. 23rd, 2005 11:13 pm
rogueskeptic: (i hate my job)
Hobbie sits quietly, looking out a window. Out onto a world enshrouded in fog, the sun not having risen high enough yet to have burned it off.

It seemed fitting that on the day he left home for what would hopefully be the last time, everything would be murky and clouded. Like his future.

Oh, the Imperials were full of rules and regulations and as such, his path was rather clearly marked out. He knew that. He knew exactly what would happen to him as long as he remained fighting for the Empire. It was like clockwork, after all. Work for so long, and if you survive, you get a promotion. Just like a bureaucracy. The surviving part might be tricky, but then, he didn't really care. Not much.

Everyone with any sense knew that to the Imperial war machine its pilots were a cred a dozen. Why else did they send them out in glorified bits of tinfoil?

He didn't mind, though, didn't really care. It wasn't a death wish, per se, it was just the simple acceptance of the fact that his chosen profession had an abnormally high death rate.

It was funny that on a day like today, as Hobbie got ready to step out into that fog, he was finally doing something that had his father tell him how proud he was. More like happy to see the back of him, but Hobbie wouldn't complain. He didn't say anything. He wasn't in this to make his father proud.

He was in it to leave.

And, he mused as he headed off into the fog, toward the waiting transport him that would deliver him to the beginning of the path laid out for him by the Empire, if he happened to step off that path into another one. much the better.
rogueskeptic: (doubleyew tee eff)
Your view on yourself:
Other people find you very interesting, but you are really hiding your true self. Your friends love you because you are a good listener. They'll probably still love you if you learn to be yourself with them.

The type of girlfriend/boyfriend you are looking for:
You are not looking merely for a girl/boyfriend - you are looking for your life partner. Perhaps you should be more open-minded about who you spend time with. The person you are looking for might hide their charm under their exterior.

Your readiness to commit to a relationship:
You are ready to commit as soon as you meet the right person. And you believe you will pretty much know as soon as you might that person.

The seriousness of your love:
You like to flirt and behave seductively. The opposite sex finds this very attractive, and that's why you'll always have admirers hanging off your arms. But how serious are you about choosing someone to be in a relationship with?

Your views on education
Education is less important than the real world out there, away from the classroom. Deep inside you want to start working, earning money and living on your own.

The right job for you:
You're a practical person and will choose a secure job with a steady income. Knowing what you like to do is important. Find a regular job doing just that and you'll be set for life.

How do you view success:
Success in your career is not the most important thing in life. You are content with what you have and think that being with someone you love is more than spending all of your precious time just working.

What are you most afraid of:
You are afraid of having no one to rely on in times of trouble. You don't ever want to be unable to take care of yourself. Independence is important to you.

Who is your true self:
You like privacy very much because you enjoy spending time with your own thoughts. You like to disappear when you cannot find solutions to your own problems, but you would feel better if you learned to share your thoughts with a person you trust.

taken from here
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