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Before the Saga “Aliikai”, a one-shot for the One-Hit Wonder Challenge, warning: Solo spoliers & violence

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction- Before, Saga, and Beyond' started by AzureAngel2, Jun 11, 2018.

  1. AzureAngel2

    AzureAngel2 Force Ghost star 6

    Jun 14, 2005
    Title: Aliikai, a one-shot for the “One-Hit Wonder Challenge

    Author: AzureAngel2

    Co-Author and editor:@DarthUncle

    Main beta editor: @WarmNyota_SweetAyesha

    Length: one-shot

    Genre: Drama

    Rating: PG

    Note: Please be aware that this story contains scenes of violence, and references to abuse and trauma recovery!

    Summary: A young waitress in a harbour bar in Coronet realizes something essential.

    Time frame: The story takes place in 32 BBY.

    Planet of choice: Coruscant

    Reader warning: Please excuse my weird English! I am German. English is only my Second language!

    Disclaimer: SW is owned by George Lucas, Lucas Ltd. and now The Walt Disney Company

    (dooda-dit-dooda), (dit-dooda-dit-dooda)
    There's a port on western bay
    And it serves a hundred ships a day
    Lonely sailors pass the time away
    And talk about their homes

    And there's a girl in this harbor town
    And she works layin' whiskey down
    They say “Brandy, fetch another round”
    She serves them whiskey and wine
    The sailors say, “Brandy, you're a fine girl” (you're a fine girl)
    “What a good wife you would be” (such a fine girl)
    “Yeah your eyes could steal a sailor from the sea”

    (dooda-dit-dooda), (dit-dooda-dit-dooda-dit)

    Brandy wears a braided chain
    Made of finest silver from the North of Spain
    A locket that bears the name
    Of a man that Brandy loved

    He came on a summer's day
    Bringin' gifts from far away
    But he made it clear he couldn't stay
    No harbour was his home
    The sailor said “Brandy, you're a fine girl” (you're a fine girl)

    What a good wife you would be” (such a fine girl)
    But my life, my love, and my lady is the sea”

    (dooda-dit-dooda), (dit-dooda-dit-dooda-dit)

    Yeah, Brandy used to watch his eyes
    When he told his sailor's story
    She could feel the ocean fall and rise
    She saw its ragin' glory
    But he had always told the truth, lord, he was an honest man
    And Brandy does her best to understand

    (dooda-dit-dooda), (dit-dooda-dit-dooda-dit)

    At night when the bars close down
    Brandy walks through a silent town
    And loves a man who's not around
    She still can hear him say
    “She hears him say,
    Brandy, you're a fine girl” (you're a fine girl)
    “What a good wife you would be” (such a fine girl)
    “But my life, my love, and my lady is the sea”

    (dooda-dit-dooda), (dit-dooda-dit-dooda-dit)

    “Brandy, you're a fine girl” (you're a fine girl)
    “What a good wife you would be" (such a fine girl)
    “But my life, my love, and my lady is the sea”

    The ocean had an almighty presence here in Coronet. Seaweed was everywhere. For when it dried out at the shore line, it carried the smell of salt and seawater inland. There was no chance to escape it. Not even all the big smokestacks with their chemical debris managed that.

    In fact, the fishing industry was way older than the spaceship one. Therefore mechanics still left their pub seats in 'The Impaled Coppergrine' when the fishermen came in. It was tradition.

    Seafaring adventures were looked upon with the highest regard even if their pay check was not the best. But their callused hands had helped to feed the planet population for many generations. Long before there was even talk of the Galactic Republic, fishing nets and harpoons had been thrown out.

    Kymber Rann, the owner of the establishment, rubbed his hands together in glee.

    'The Jolly Sea Ray' had just arrived at port and her crew came pouring in.

    Among the fishermen, mostly human, he spotted the famous Devron Parvan, a beast of a man. It promised to be an interesting night.


    Dreamingly, the waitress Ala Duine stared ahead of her. She had just turned nineteen and therefore was now officially allowed to work at 'The Impaled Coppergrine'. It was a tough job, including many adventurous hands on her body, but it was better than to waste away at the assembly line of the local fish industry. With no school education whatsoever she had no chance of a decent office job anyway.

    She let out a deep sigh.

    Devron Parvan was perfect in her eyes, a pure paragon of manhood. In spitting contests with chewing tobacco he was always number one. It was said that he could break the neck of a fleekeel with his bare hands.

    A hand flew to her heart.

    That fisherman was definitely the best. His neck was incredibly thick and he ate raw sea gull eggs. His diet had added to his strength and muscle mass.

    “Hey, move it!” her boss shouted all of a sudden and pushed her forward.

    With a scream Ala Duine landed in front of her beau's feet. The fisherman leered down at her.


    His order had been a pint of Corellian ale and not a virgin. Devron Pavan hesitated for a moment, then he extended his hand. “Hi there, little mermaid. How you do?”

    She giggled and blushed. It was cute and unnerving at the same time.

    He scratched his chin.

    This could definitely work as a one-night stand, but not for much longer. He had never liked strings attached to him.

    Both of his parents had dozed away in a nursing home, pumped full of tranquillizers. To spare himself their funeral costs, he had given their corpses to scientific research. Neimoidians were decent business men and had given him a considerableprice.

    The clumsy mermaid, her dress soaked by his ale, still gazed up at him as if in a trance.

    “Can I invite you for a drink?” he offered, liking the outlines of her body already.

    “Ala Duine,” shouted the bar owner, “You are fired.”

    He turned around to the squat human, who resembled a Hutt a lot. “As a paying customer she can stay on, I suppose?”


    Qi'ra was born nine months later, but there was no wedding ring, even though Ala Duine and her beau shared an extremely small one-room flat down-town. When he was not at sea with his comrades, he was hanging around at different pubs or simply in the streets of Coronet.

    They quarrelled a lot. The baby girls’ meek health did not make their relationship any better. Qi'ra had developed a chronic cough and also had a lot of problems with her digestion. But instead of buying the pre-scribed medicine her father used the money on alcohol and drugs.


    When Ala Duine looked into the mirror one fine day, she did not recognize herself any more. To her dismay the young flourishing girl was gone. She looked at an old slut instead. The rings under her eyes were enormous. Her hair brittle.

    There had been no sighting of Devron Parvan for a fortnight. Perhaps the ocean had swallowed him. Or the arms of another dumb waitress. The outcome was the same.

    With a look of contempt Ala Duine gazed at her daughter. The one and a half year old was full of drying vomit. “Just look at you, you silly creature.”

    To throw Qi'ra out of the window would lead to CorSec investigating the area and her neighbours would not like that overly much. There were much better ideas than murder. The Corellian underworld had a new crime mogul by the name of Lady Proxima.


    Moloch, a two metres high Grindalid, gazed down at the tiny human shape that was presented by him. “We do not take garbage in,” he voiced through his sharp-toothed mouth.

    “But you get her for free,” the baby's mother insisted.

    “I can feed it,” said a dirty boy with big brown eyes and scruffy-looking hair. “And when Qi'ra is grown, I’ll show her around and teach her the basics.”

    “Han, you are a complete idiot. This child will take years to be fully operational.”

    The boy shrugged. “I will just strap her to my back and go on my business as usual.”


    Qi'ra did not like fish, which was a problem. Lobster and squids were reserved for the Lady Proxima only.

    “Eat!” Han begged his much younger foster-sister, because he did not wish for her to be beaten up by Rebolt again. The thug enjoyed trashing up females too much.

    “No!” frowned Qi'ra.

    “C'om!” insisted Han. The mere thought of nursing her back to health for weeks made his heart heavy.

    “Let us have a walk along the harbour promenade,” she suggested. “We could pretend that we are rich and influ-influ-...”

    “Influential,” he finished for her.

    “Would that not be great, Han?” She beamed at him, her eyes twinkling like stars in the twilight of their drainpipe. “Imagine, we could sail the stars with our own ship.”

    If he could have a starship, he would prefer a YT-1300 light freighter. His father built them for the CEC – Corellian Engineering Corporation. A sad smile crossed his face, but Qi'ra never saw it. She was already crawling towards the exit.


    To let Han go was the hardest thing Qi'ra had ever done. Throughout her life the roles had been fixed. Her heart had been a small boat and his smile the shore. But at least he would make it off-planet and live out their dreams.

    A single tear rolled down her cheek. She did not allow herself anything else. Her captors should not see how hurt she was inside. That she was drowning in a sea of sorrow without Han. But due to him she was strong enough for the storm ahead of her.


    Much later on, when Bolt, her favourite castigator, had finished with the miserable girl, Lady Proxima said, “Clean her up and have her wounds treated. An old business friend of mine is looking for a new plaything. His old one broke and he had to feed her to his Corellian dogs.”

    The massive Grinalid female crime boss had better things to do than to look at the bleeding heap of human flesh and bones any longer.

    Soon she would need to entertain, and her hatchlings needed to be fed.

    Her throne room was not as splendid as the one of Jabba the Hutt on far away Tatooine. But the briny pool down here in the belly of Coronet was her best option. Daylight was not a good idea for her delicate skin.

    The blood kept running out of Qi'ra's multiple wounds.

    “Get that thing out. It ruins the floor!”


    The owners changed as quick as the clothing on her skin. Sometimes Qi'ra was in for hard physical labour, but mostly for much worse. Nobody ever made her cry though. She suffered in silence, knowing that Han was out there and living the dream in the depths of space. Her sailor, her space cowboy.

    But then Dryden Vos, a mighty member of Crimson Dawn, came along. The near-human was completely different from his predecessors.

    “From Corellia?” he asked, when he looked up from his data pad.

    She nodded demurely.

    “Which city?” he pressed on, his blue eyes bright.

    “Coronet, sir,” she answered truthfully.

    His fingers wandered over her back. “Are you familiar with the song “Brandy (You're a fine girl)” by Looking Glass?”

    Qi'ra shook her head.

    “Then you better learn it, my little mermaid.” His hands cramped around her throat and he started to strangle her. “You will learn anything that I want you to.”

    Now she was part of his vast collection of curiosities. She was not sure whether she liked it or not.



    Dryden Vos trained Qi'ra like no other before her. He saw the potential of the former street urchin. After many harsh lessons his will eventually became hers. She ate what he wanted her to eat. Whatever drink he gave her, she did not leave a single drop in her glass. There were times when she was without clothing and during other occasions, he sent her half-naked to his business partners.
    He also taught her how to cry again.

    When he thought his lovely trainee to be ready, he taught her the 'steel hand'.

    “Somebody once said that the art of Teräs Käsi is about control and mastery of one's self.” He winked at Qi'ra. “Enlighten me!”

    Their first training session together made the Corellian woman end up in the medical bay. She was barely alive when the droids worked on her.


    It was during a candle dinner when her master dropped the bomb. “With the sudden death of my second-in-command I have a job vacancy.”

    Before Qi'ra was able to say anything Drayden Vos pushed a metal box her way. “Open it!”

    With shaking hands she obeyed.

    A light Monlitzer S-195 waited for her to be observed properly.

    She reached out for the blaster pistol.

    “There is still a last test, though.” Drayden Vos leaned back in his chair and watched her through half-closed lids. “Somebody of the greatest importance would like to make your acquaintance. Let us go to Dathomir.”

    That planet name was unknown to her.


    There was no shame left in Maul. It had died with the forbidden kiss Nagina Palpatine and he had shared ages ago. His clawed hands closed in on the head of the young Corellian woman. Paralysed by Force powers too great for her to comprehend, he turned her soul inside out.

    “She will not remember any of this, Vos,” he assured her anxious looking pet owner.

    Deeper and deeper he dug into her conscience. On certain planets and in most telepathic cultures this form of contact was considered rape.

    “Ah! I found something,” the Zabrak thundered triumphantly. “This should show us what material she is made of.”


    Devron Pavan just saw the back of the waitress, when he entered. Her waist line was promising though.

    “We are closed,” the woman said without turning around.

    After an unsuccessful month at sea – the fish population of Corellia had dropped drastically due to pollution – a thirsty fisherman had the right to wet his throat a bit with something that was not salt water.

    “Who are you?” he barked, for he knew every waitress in the 'The Impaled Coppergrine'. “Where is Kymber?”

    “Mister Rann felt unwell and decided to stay at home,” came the prompt answer. “I hope that is not too inconvenient for you, sir.”

    That sounded wrong to his critical ears. “He hates his wife too much to do such a silly thing. He would rather lie down behind the counter.”

    “Perhaps that explains why we are closed down.” Saying thus, the woman turned around.

    She had a sweet face, reminding him of somebody else. But her eyes were as cold and emotionless as the goggles of a bluevev-glider. What concerned him most was that were was blood sprayed all over her apron.

    “What the…?”

    The door bell behind him rang and a group of men came in. Their leader was a blond half-human in fine clothing. “I hate to disturb your family union, Qi'ra dear, but I just had to watch how you kill your old man off. It has cost me a little fortune to find him in this rat hole. I hope you don't mind.”

    Devron Pavan was too stunned to do anything.

    Then the harpoon came flying out of nowhere.

    “It was nice meeting you, daddy,” the young woman said flatly, her face and eyes giving nothing away.

    He opened his mouth, but instead of words only a huge squall of blood came out of his mouth.

    “Told you,” the blond half-human spoke triumphantly. “Your old man used to win every spitting contest in his youth.”

    Devron Pavan sank onto his knees.

    “Now, Qi'ra dear, tell me that all the hours in my kitchen were a waste of time.”

    Holding a hand to his throat, Devron Pavan gurgled.

    “Hopefully you remember how to gut a fish.”


    The boots remained in front of her blanket and finally some credits were thrown down towards Ala Duine. Her eyesight was not the best after she had been forced to sleep to close to the harbour. The salt water had been rather damaging.

    “Thank you,” a female voice slurred full of contempt. It sounded young.

    “Did I offend you, milady?”

    “For singing the song 'Brandy' to me?”

    Laughter pearled through the street canyon.

    Sheer instinct made Ala Duine crawl away from her blanket.

    “What bothers me more is the branding of my forearm and my neck,” the woman moved on. Then she paused for a while and added, “Mother.”

    Now her panic was real.

    Qi'ra stepped on her hands. “Die at least with some grace. My master is watching us. He hates drama and wailing.”

    Something that felt like a gun barrel came pressed against at the back of her skull.

    “Hold on!” a male voice full of authority called out.

    Ala Duine had new hope.

    “I hate to cut in like this, Qi'ra dear, but when I asked you to bring her down the slow way I did not consider your blaster as a valid option.”

    The calmness in the stranger's voice panicked Ala Duine even more than the reappearance of the child she had so carelessly given away. “Please!” she whined.

    A violent kick made her jaw crack.

    Madame, behave yourself! For I am in the middle of a conversation with your daughter.”


    Rostek Horn shook his head at the violence of the crime scene that was displayed close to Diamond Square.

    “Perhaps somebody was not satisfied with her singing?” his fellow CorSec officer offered uncertain. “Old Ala was quite a bother in this area.”

    “Nobody deserves to die like this.”

    Both men starred down at the corpse that lay in her own blood.

    “Somebody reported that Dryden Vos is in town,” the younger officer moved on.

    “Coran, this is an internship.” Sternly, Rostek Horn looked at his Force-sensitive grandson. “You assume too much. If Crimson Dawn was really responsible for this mess here, we would not know about it. They would leave no clue behind.”

    “Perhaps one of their assassins sort of slipped?”

    “I call this a day.” The elderly CorSec officer gazed down at the corpse one more time. “You and I will head over to the 'Raging Ronto' and drink a whiskey for Miss Duine's poor soul.”

    “She was quiet a beauty in her days,” Coran Horn piped up.

    “Actually, her papers say that she is less than forty years old.”

    “Whoa!” The youngster paled.

    “The ocean can do that to a person of her class in no time.”

    “You mean the men who sail the ocean, granddad.”

    Gravely, Rostek Horn shook his head. “The person who did it was no sailor or fisherman, believe me. This was much more personal than a lover. It might be somebody she wronged in the past.”

    With a last gaze back Coran Horn followed his grandfather to their favourite pub.


    Lando Calrissian heard singing from his personal quarters. It was a cheerful tune and he could not believe this really came from Qi'ra.

    "(dooda-dit-dooda), (dit-dooda-dit-dooda)

    There's a port on western bay
    And it serves a hundred ships a day
    Lonely sailors pass the time away
    And talk about their homes"

    The personal assistant of Dryden Vos was a book with seven seals. Nothing about her seemed real. During their first encounter she had been sweet and charming, but now that they had spent an entire weekend together he knew better. She was as cold as a fish from the Corellian ocean.

    In his mother's culture there was a creature called Alliikai, goddess of the ocean. Those mermaids dragged down sailors into a wet grave with no regret.

    He was not sure what life had done to Qi'ra, but she clearly had not an inch of human warmth and true compassion left in her fine body. Luckily he was on her good side, for now.

    The song “Brandy (You're a fine girl)” by Looking Glass (1972)
    Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki
    Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia
    Last edited: Jan 8, 2021
  2. WarmNyota_SweetAyesha

    WarmNyota_SweetAyesha Chosen One star 7

    Aug 31, 2004
    Intense back story for Qi'ra =D= Very tragic outcome from the single mis-step and bad choice /poor judgment her mother showed in getting mixed up with Parvan. :eek:
    Last edited: Jun 12, 2018
    DarthUncle, Kahara and AzureAngel2 like this.
  3. Nehru_Amidala

    Nehru_Amidala Force Ghost star 6

    Oct 3, 2016
    This was a bittersweet read, well done and intriguing. Who knew Nagina and Mail were a hot item? !

    Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
  4. AzureAngel2

    AzureAngel2 Force Ghost star 6

    Jun 14, 2005
    @WarmNyota_SweetAyesha: Thanks for beta-editing, re-reading and then commenting. I would be lost without you.

    @Nehru_Amidala: There is an actual vignette about that kiss ( = Vignette 11 of Tyrian Purple) & another one with the consequence Sheep Palpatine draws out of it ( = my 2nd song for the Celtic Challenge, story 1: “Down by the sea shore”), which takes us to Sacrif for the first time ever.

    Plus Maul approaches Nagina on Jedha when she is praying in Shiraya´s temple. Here an extract from Chapter 21:


    How long I remain sitting on my thighs with my palms turned towards the ceiling I do not know. Time is irrelevant. At least for me.

    Orson leans his chin on my left shoulder. “I am in the tea room, okay?”

    I hear him leave.

    Finally, I can let go of everything that bothers me. It is just me and the goddess. No more lies. No more fears.

    Ancient words leave my lips.

    “Grant me the strength, Goddess, to whom I ask, to whom I pray; extend Your assistance to me.”

    Walking one's own path is never easy. But divine Shiraya listens to those, who seek her advice. Courage, independence, and self-trust are gifts that she has in stock for those who humbly ask her aid.

    To be the future gate keeper for House Palpatine is not easy. I am under no illusion about that, but I am willing to sacrifice my own life for this task.

    Suddenly, I feel the presence of another pilgrim kneeling next to me. The heat, that this person radiates, reminds me of somebody that I used to know.

    I open my downcast eyes and hazily gaze at a large pair of hands. They are grimy with crusted dirt, and the black nails broken. But I do not draw away. Their tattoos are too familiar, too dear to me.

    “I was told that you died during the Battle of Naboo,” I whisper, my voice somewhat strained by upcoming tears. “What happened, Maul?”

    “Not now!” He reaches out for my hands, leads them towards his mouth and kisses my fingertips. I can feel that his lips are are cracked and pealing. “Just let me enjoy your company, little sister. Your companion will be back soon.”

    This assumption I can rebut. “Frankincense is not his thing. Neither are praying sessions. He hails to science only.”

    “But he will get suspicious,” Maul argues, still holding my hands in a gentle manner.

    “That is his second name, I am afraid.”

    His eyes are yellow with the dark side, yet for me he has nothing but a friendly gaze. “Sidious choose your body guard wisely then. The structure of this galaxy is breaking apart. You need somebody to protect you in times like this.”

    “What I really need is answers,” I protest.

    “No pilgrim ever gets the results he expects.” Maul gazes me with unhidden regret, his eyes quizzical. “To me the Force itself sends an angel when I am asking for nothing but revenge. You are my sign.” He pauses. “And I am afraid that I am yours. The Age of the Darkness is here.”

    I bite my lips, glaring at his robed figure.

    “My advice to you is simple. Stay away from Sidious and creatures like me!” he says, releasing my hands. “You break too easily because you care too much.”

    “You cannot leave me like this,” I sniff for there is so much to say after all these years.

    Slow, but with purpose Maul gets to his feet. “When fate is kind, we will not meet again.” His yellow eyes, spiked with red veins, flare like Tatooine's twin suns. The strained lips quiver in what is almost a smile. “Give me hope, little sister!”


    Maul does not show up in the main story of Nagina again, but gets occasional cameos in vignettes and one-shots. For example in “Show some respect on this deck for the dear departed”:

    9. Maul on Malachor

    The dust of ages burned in his throat, but Maul did not mind that. He had breathed in the ash of these Sith warriors before, tasted their ancient wrath and pain until it had merged with his own feelings. This natural coup de poudre had turned him into a soulless warrior, steeled him against benevolence, mercy and forgiveness. The bokor – dark sorcerer - who had done this to him was no other than Sheev Palpatine himself.

    The large Zabrak snarled, revealing his yellowish teeth.

    Just moments ago he had crashed into an underground cave and straight onto the ancient battle field. He was trapped inside his pilot seat, at least for now. Blood ran out of his broken nose making it difficult to breath. But it did not bother him. Something else did.

    “Too soon, little sister!” he mumbled as he felt her die light years away from him. “Too soon!”

    Of course Nagina was not his relative by blood. Fate and the dark side of the Force had created a strong bond between them. For at least a decade they had grown up together. The approach of adulthood and a forbidden kiss had turned their world upside down.

    The former Sith lord licked over his split underlip, tasting blood. His eyes remained tearless. As a toddler he had learned that crying achieved nothing. Only vengeance did, the only true constant in his life.

    He closed his eyes, summoning the image of a much younger Nagina, her hands pressed against her sides. Her fire had burned so strongly in her Palpatine veins. With a lot of courage and dignity she had explained why she had to see the place where the Great Purge of Malachor had taken place. And her uncle had listened to her, a paternal smile painted on his thin lips.

    “You should never have come with us, little sister,” the large Zabrak muttered. “It left a stain on your soul.”

    Maul sighed, remembering her haunted face as she had gazed over the eerie battle field. An activated cross-guard sabre had been in her trembling right hand, the green light unstable and threefold.

    Knowledge had always worked different for Nagina. Had made her more compassionate and forgiving with others.

    “Well, I always did my thing and you did yours,” he spoke into the silence around him. “Soon I will conduct a ritual for you. Mother Talzin taught me that the ti bon ange remains with the body for nine days after death. Only then it is released to face the Force and accounts for its sins. But I cannot do much for your gros bon ange. I hope that your uncle will show mercy there and give you a proper burial rite.”

    Determined the Zabrak freed himself from the ship wreck, sending a mighty roar through the underground cave.

    There was much work to do within the next days. He would not visit Lothal were she just passed away. And he certainly had no wish to return to Naboo. It was the safest option to give Nagina his last respects here on Malachor. Besides, Darth Revan had always fascinated her.

    Anyway, Solo was a great movie, not only for Maul being in it at the end. It does not deserve the slander it got online from almost everybody. The actors did a good job.
    Last edited: Jun 11, 2018
    Kahara and DarthUncle like this.
  5. Nehru_Amidala

    Nehru_Amidala Force Ghost star 6

    Oct 3, 2016
  6. DarthUncle

    DarthUncle Jedi Grand Master star 5

    Mar 20, 2005
    This had a very 'fantasy' start to it, and in a way, it continues that, with a dark hero's journey for both mother and daughter, in the vein of a (turn of the century) Tanith Lee story. Great read. Let out your darkness and sublime it into jewels like this, you know you want to :emperor:[face_devil][face_good_luck]
    Kahara and AzureAngel2 like this.
  7. AzureAngel2

    AzureAngel2 Force Ghost star 6

    Jun 14, 2005
    @Nehru_Amidala: Thanks for your support!

    @DarthUncle: Oh, you refer to the novel "Snow white, blood red". Which we gave to your younger sister. If you miss it, travel to England and get it back. :p;)@};-
  8. DarthUncle

    DarthUncle Jedi Grand Master star 5

    Mar 20, 2005
    I didn't mean I wanted it back, anyway, your writing somehow reminded me of the good bits of that story (I also found it disturbing in other ways, which your story luckily does not have).
    AzureAngel2 likes this.
  9. AzureAngel2

    AzureAngel2 Force Ghost star 6

    Jun 14, 2005
    @DarthUncle: Thanks for saying that my stories are not disturbing! [face_love]

    What disturbs me though is that the majority of people seems to have a lot of serious problems & strong issues with the Solo movie.

    Which will stop Disney making more spin offs and that is sad.

    Last edited: Jun 23, 2018
    DarthUncle likes this.