Post by The Conman on Nov 12, 2014 20:04:14 GMT -5
Name: Donetas’Oaknadaa Garnudcha O’ta
Species: Twi’lek
Faction: Miki Boska
Rank: Family Head ( Oaknadaa )
Age: 35
Height: 1.85m
Weight: 88kg
Appearance:
Face Claim: Kat Dennings
Physical:
The first thing that’d strike you upon meeting Donnie is the scale of the woman. With dark bronze skin, subdued yellow eyes, and Standing 1.83m ( 6 foot for you yanks ) tall, in extremely good shape, she’s quite a lot to take in. Amazonian would be an apt description for her, the woman being very obviously feminine, but powerfully built and very pretty.
Starting with her head, the woman sports the typical long boska lekku, touching the top of her butt if her head is held at normal height. On the Lekku is a chevron pattern, 5cm wide and 5cm apart , with the tip pointing to the end of her lekku. The “darker” part of the chevron is nearly black, while the lighter part is the same as the rest of her skintone. The tips of her lekku, the last 20cm or so, are solid dark brown.
Moving further down, to her body, the time she’s spent in the gym and her genetic predisposition becoming apparent, as do her 50(42F)-30-50* measurements. She’s not shredded or jacked, but has a decent amount of muscle on display, enough that it’s obvious she takes care of herself, but not to the point of a body builder. She has very little “extra” fat, basically. Her arms and shoulders, though a little wide, are similar to her back, maintaining enough muscle to be intimidating but not be gross. Her midsection is that of a woman who takes care of herself, but obviously isn’t interested in obtaining a six pack, as the definition she has there is just that of somebody in good shape.
Moving yet further southward, to the women's toned legs. Like her upper half, Donnie’s legs share their northern partners limited definition. She tends to put weight on her thighs and butt, so while there’s limited definition there, she can’t do anything about it, it’s gonna jiggle regardless of what she does. Her lower legs and calves are those of a woman who’s spent a good deal of time in a squat rack, and are one of her less feminine traits. Finally, at the bottom, are her feet.
If Donnie has one, difinitively un-feminine trait, it’s her feet, they’re rather large. Not clown-feet large, but big enough that people tend to note it if they see her without shoes on.
Tattoos:
Donnie has a good deal of ink due to the Tribe she’s from and their beliefs. The upper half of her chest and right breast covered in blood-red, maori style tribal tattoos. They flow down her right arm and finish on her hand. The left side of the tattoo moves over the top of her left breast and down her left arm, stopping just before the elbow, and resuming at her wrist, covering her index finger and thumb.
Her Lekku are tattooed with similarly “flowy” Maori-style markings, obviously unfinished ( there’s a lot more space, basically ), they are a sign that she’s “of age”.
The tattoos on her chest flow over her shoulders and cover the top third of her back, linking up with a set that come up from her hips and cover the majority of her butt, and link up on the bottom with her leg pieces. The side pieces snake around elegantly and tie into a set of tattoos that skirt the top of her pants, and disappear “down below”. ( yes, shes got tattoos “down there” ).
Her legs are covered with Maori-Style tribal pieces from her toes to her well, hips. They cover the leg in an intricate array of lines and patterns, interlocking with her tattoos she has on her hips and back. Notably, her lower back, face, and “belly” are NOT covered with tattoos. Something else of note, is that in addition to the striking blood-red colour of the tattoos, they are also UV reactive that is they glow blue under UV light, this is something generally only the Miki know, and it’s used to “enhance” the tattoos on a member of the tribe, and to identify them. It’s used to add meaning and depth.
On the top of her back, where her neck meets it, she’s got a tattoo that’s Blue instead of red. This has a gold highlight and is actually the Boska version of a “wedding ring.”. The reason for the different colours is because they are the colours that Var has on her Tattoos. The UV colour is silver, like Var’s. In addition to this, the Gold accent ( used to symbolize the success of their relationship ) is Gold both under regular and UV light.
In addition to this, both her nipples are pierced ( something only Var knows, and those who are intimate with her find out), with simple gold barbels. If she’s got some “lead time” Donnie will swap them out for something “racier” to please her mate. Her belly-button is pierced and she typically has a gold, with Ruby accented six-pointed flower in. Further “downstairs”, Donnie has a clit piercing she got in a drunken escapade with Var some years ago.
Clothing:
Doneeda is generally found wearing a white, tight fitting, low cut, tank top that stops just low enough to cover what needs to be covered, and just high enough to show off her belly-button and some of the definition of her core. Below that, overtop of the pair of narrow black strips of fabric arcing over her hips and diving down behind them, is a pair of low riding, dark-brown cargo pants. While they aren’t un-flattering ( very little is on Donnie. ) they are ill-fitting, being obviously tightly pulled through the hips and across the “back”. They are held up by a simple, black, canvas belt that is secured at the front by a plastic clip.
Hanging from her right hip, in a dark brown leather drop-leg holster, is a well worn DL-18 Blaster. Doneeda isn’t the best shot, and she’s not particularly fast on the draw, but it’s better to have it and not need it, is her motto. Sitting high on the right ( above the holster ) and arcing across to sit below her left hip is a basic utility belt. It holds things like her keys, an electronic diagnostic unit for helping with repairs, a few extra batteries for her blaster, a 6” long bowie knife ( on the left ), and a small pouch with a few credits in it, as well as a small holster for a set of utility pliers. ( space leatherman), and a clip to attach her comm unit too. ( Space Blackberry
)
On her feet Donnie wears a pair of mid-calf high dark brown, well worn, boots. They’ve obviously seen better days, but are in good enough shape and not falling apart. They have scratches and marks in the leather from seeing a few years of abuse, and the soles have been replaced a few times. On her right lower calf, Donnie has a small punch knife in a holster.
She wears a simple, digital watch on her left wrist, and a myriad of simple, multicoloured, rope or twine bracelets on her right for religious reasons ( good luck, warding off evil spirits, etc ). She has a few simple necklaces on as well (similarly multi-coloured) , with small, wooden carved runes on some of them for similar reasons. Around her Lekku, at various points, are similar lekkulaces, of a variety of faded colours, without the carvings attached.
Personality:
Woman raised in tight-knit, polyamorous-ish, nomadic, vaguely militaristic, cult-like group of space Twi’leks who are bent on stopping slavery. This is the environment within which Donnie’s personality was formed, and it’s important to keep that in mind.
Donnie is a product of her environment, weather or not she likes to admit it. The woman’s strongest, if not defining trait, is her giving nature. She will give time, energy, money and whatever else she can to help those she cares about, her son and daughter especially.The woman’s not one to make swift judgements based on appearance, and instead prefers to get to know somebody before deciding how to feel about them. A result of this is a willingness to give people “a chance”. Basically, she’ll give you the rope, weather you turn it into a noose or use it to help yourself is your call.
Perhaps because she’s a parent, or simply because of her upbringing, Donnie is extraordinarily tolerant. Of other’s failings, insults, etc, she tries to either grin and bear it or understand why somebody’s the way they are before telling them to stop. She’s nearly incapable of malice, and it takes quite a bit to actually make her truly angry. Donnie’s compassion is another one of her defining characteristics, the woman genuinely wanting to help those who are in need, and expecting nothing in return.
If anything, of the above, were to be singled out, it’s that she does “good” things and expects nothing back, not because she’s trying to get fame or status, but because she just genuinely believes in it.
Donnie’s sense of humor is offbeat and a little perverse. She tends to enjoy dry, more sarcastic wordplay rathern than overt slapstick style humor, and will “press” on somebody until they either admit that what’s going on is funny, or actually get angry and tell her to stop. Conversely, Donnie’s pretty good at being on the receiving end of a joke herself. Growing up with a father famous for Dadjokes and then taking on a significant other ( Var ) who’s tongue may actually be a sword, it’s the only way she kept her sanity.
Overall, the woman would be considered to be fun loving. Her risk taking has dropped off a great deal since she’s become a mother, but that hasn’t stopped her from finding other ways to have fun. Not just involving a bed, either. She’s not what would be considered to be happy go lucky, but Donnie likes to joke around with her friends, kids, and generally finds ways to have fun with whoever’s around in one way or another. Be it by cuddling up with Var and watching a hilariously badly translated movie, helping Enarin with one of his engineering projects, teaching Niri how to fly, or something else entirely, the woman’s typically able to find something to do and is rarely bored. Now, all of this isn’t to say she’s not still a Boska, Donnie can drink like a Corellian dockworker, and fight with the best of ‘em. In that regard, she’s a product of her environment in a big way.
Relationships are another place where she really shows how she’s a product of her environment in a big way. Donnie isn’t capable of being monogamous, at all. She is capable of loving only one person, which she does, but the woman’s not able to simply sleep with only Var. Her needs are too varied, as are her wants, and she’s not about to give them up, nor live a life she doesn’t enjoy, so somebody else can feel satisfied. Even if she loves that somebody else, to her it makes no sense to live a life you don’t like for that somebody else. To her, the people you love should enable you to live the life you want to live, and love you for being who you are.
Tied up in this is Donnie’s trusting nature. Over the years, she’s built up a relationship with Var that allows her to trust the woman to an extent that some would consider ridiculous. In reality, it’s an implicit trust that Var wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt her, and vice versa. Essentially, since Donnie can’t get what she needs from Var all the time, she’s free to go “out” and get what she needs. Which, typically involves her screaming into a pillow while somebody pulls her lekku while slapping her ass and pumping a baby into her.
As far as children are concerned, she loves Enarin, her son, with every fiber of her being. Donnie would, literally, do anything for him, sometimes to his detriment. The same is true for Niri, Var’s daughter that Donnie has been around since birth. As far as she’s concerned, Niri is as much her child as Enarin is. The woman’s a decent mother, not doting, but not ignorant of her children’s needs either. She does have some issues setting boundaries or saying “no” to them, enforcing discipline and tends to be a “soft touch”. Her stance is that all she can do is be there for them when they fall, literally and figuratively. If they’re going to do something, there’s not much she can do to stop them, aside from telling them that it’s a bad idea or encouraging them to take a different option or path.
She is deeply spiritual, as shown by her extensive tattooing and wearing of various talismans and trinkets. Donnie genuinely does believe there are gods who watch over and protect her and the Boska, and that by doing good things she’s helping the universe be a better place. The woman’s not deluded enough to think that approving leave for one of her subordinates is going to fix all the problems, but she does believe that good deeds have a way of coming back.
Finally, there’s Donnie’s appreciation for direct, concise, honest communication. Growing up with the pragmatic Boska, who don’t mince words, Donnie prefers people be honest with her. She’s one of the few people who can legitimately say they will not hold a grudge, get angry, or hold it against you, your opinion, as long as it’s honest. From criticism on a failed negotiation for a shipment of self sealing stem bolts, to the ever dangerous question of “Does this make my ass look fat?”, she expects the response to be honest. If that means you have to tell her “Damnit woman, this is a dinner not an S&M party, buy clothes your own size!” Then so be it.
All this being said, she does, to an extent, have two modes of operation. Being basically in charge of roughly 60% of the Boska combat airwing, as well as various other combat forces, Donnie’s gotten good at being able to “turn off” the “nicer” parts of her personality so she can get the job done. The woman understands that sometimes she needs to basically be a bitch, or that sometimes she needs to listen to a stupid story about what somebody’s kid did so she can get to the meat of a particular topic with a subordinate. Essentially, Donnie can “turn off” her emotions when it comes to being in charge of a fighting force, or when she’s in a combat situation. It’s this ability to separate herself from the situation and not see the forest for the trees that’s earned her the respect of her subordinates and success in her position.
History:
Doneeda was born on the 8th of Relona ( 9th month ), in 39 BBY, on the Al’Tai, to a pair of loving parents, Alsk (19) and Alema (18) Oaknadaa. Being born to a pair of Pilots, and their first child no less, earmarked the girl as a Pilot from day one. As such, she was taken to the families religious leader for his blessing, and for her first “marking”.
The girl’s first tattoo was a small red dot, on her right shoulder, which would eventually become the basis for all her other “markings” to grow from. The event, though traumatic for a 5 day old infant, rapidly faded from her memory as the skin healed. The little girl lead a fairly uneventful first few years. Learning to walk about a year later ( and getting ink for that ) and then run ( yet more ). As the years progressed before she was “of age” to begin learning her trade, her ink radiated out from the small “dot” on her right shoulder, snaking down her arm and beginning to cascade over her shoulder.
At the ripe old age of four, when most children in the galaxy were going to their first day of school, Donnie walked the 400m up the ship with her father to accompany him in a flight simulator. If asked, to this day, Doneeda will still profess that was the day she fell in love. The two hours she spent in the simulator, soaring over a crudely computer generated landscape of Ryloth’s day side, to her 4 year old mind, was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen. The little girl cried for an hour after her Father said they had to go, and start talking about the basics of some stupid thing called “numbers”.
Over the next year or so, she went with her Father and her Mother ( until she got too big, as she was having her brother ), to the simulator, initially just observing, her father pointing out various land marks, all the while speaking in what sounded like a foreign language to somebody called “roger”. At the same time, the young girl was being taught her numbers. How to count, the alphabet, and a few words in a silly-sounding language called “Basic”. Eventually, Donnie was allowed to fly the speeder, albeit with her father holding the other set of controls, chuckling as she tried to direct the virtual craft into a tree she found interesting.
Over the course of all her lessons, neither of her parents would chide her for a mistake. Meerly chuckle with amusement at the innocent wonder of a child wide eyed and awestruck by a crude computer simulation of a homeworld they hadn’t seen in centuries. Instead, the girl’s parents would give her a reward for doing something right in the simulation. Stick the landing? Extra Dessert. Be able to remember what 4+2 is during the flight? Extra hour to stay up. So it went, as the young girl passed her 6 birthday, she was already a more capable pilot than most who had just graduated school. Granted, she didn’t know her times tables, nor could she identify her position on a map, but give her a stick and rudder, and a landing pad, and that kid could put that ship on that pad the majority of the time.
As her childhood years progressed, Donnie’s education did as well. The simulator time increased, generally to about 3 hours a day, as did her “schooling”. It wasn’t, in the normal sense, what one would call schooling. She learned her times tables from an electrician, as Ohms law required she had a basic understanding of math. Her Oral skills came from spending a few days a month with one of the people responsible for comms, while being taught about communications gear. Reading was unavoidable, with nearly everything on the ship having some kind of documentation attached to it, and a log of who’d done what, some going back a few hundred years. Her instruction on “how” a ship worked was also an ongoing thing. Living on a ship that was a few hundred years old, and being held together ( literally in some cases ) by duct tape and bailing wire meant that she got a great deal of exposure to jerry rigging.
In addition to her education regarding the more intellectual matters, her spiritual education continued as well. Doneeda received more of her traditional “markings” as she aged, some meaning she’d passed through some part of her life, or achieved something, some that she chose to represent beliefs she personally held. her spiritual education taught her that life was a gift, and that the Miki’s purpose was to give that gift to those who had been denied it.
It was when Donnie was 10 that she started her real training. Training for a life of combat, both in and out of the cockpit. Her trainers believed that the only way to have a healthy ( and therefore, cunning and combat ready ) mind was to have a similarly trained body. The training initially, just having her run around the outside corridors of the ship. 400m to a side, and 45m across, it totaled to just under a kilometer per lap. This was to get the lanky 10 year old into shape, as much as it was to teach her that orders had to be followed. After a month or so, it progressed to hand to hand combat training with others her own age. They mixed the males and females in the class, and didn’t allow any of them to “pull punches”. They were going to be mixing it up with slavers and pirates, they had to be tough.
This was, easily, the hardest part of Donnie’s life. She was shorter, and skinnier than every other kid, and so uncoordinated it was hilarious. She’d try for a throw, and wind up in a pretzel shape on the ground. She’d try to block, and wind up blocking air and taking a hit to the face. Doneeda wasn’t a fighter, that was for sure. But, she always got back up. Donnie’s mantra became “Am I hurt, or am I injured?” whenever she was knocked down, out of breath, or seemingly unable to keep up. What the girl lacked in marital skill and coordination, she more than made up for in heart and determination. It got to the point where other’s didn’t like fighting her because they’d hit the girl, hard, and Donnie would laugh at them and start trash talking. Accusing them of hitting like her 3 year old brother, or not being able to knock down a girl pilot.
It was, however, a front. Donnie spent more times crying herself to sleep those years than not. Due to her inability to “Keep up”, and seeing herself as “not good enough”, she’d become somebody who put on a tough, aggressive facade, but in reality, was hurting on the inside. In tests and sparring, she’d be the first to volunteer, not because she was the best, but to “just get it overwith”.
Try as she might, even at 12, she wasn’t as big, or as strong, as even the other girls in her age group who were learning to fight. Her aggressive “I’ll take on anybody” facade, and hurling of insults during a fight was out of fear. Some people deal with fear by shying away. Some, by not saying a word, still others by running. Doneeda deals with it by questioning it’s parentage and sexual orientation. If Death was a being, and Donnie met him, you can be assured she’d probably spit in his face and tell him to do something unspeakable to a bantha. She’s one of those rare people who draw a form of strength from their fear, and use it to focus their anger and fury onto a single person or target, and clear their mind and bring on a form of “battle calm”.
It was this aggressive front that lead to a number of her tattoos, most notably the ones on her sides and right hand. The ones on her sides, she got as targets, baiting people to attack her. The one that covers her right hand is supposed to look like it’s an armored, clawed, gauntlet.
Throughout all of this tumultuous period of her young life, Donnie’s parents were supportive. Her father continued teaching her to fly, Donnie seeing it as a release, and a way to relax, even though they were on to advanced combat simulations. When the girl was flying, she felt like she was free, away from all the stresses and anger and frustration caused by her body’s stubborn refusal to grow and keep up. Indeed, in stark contrast, Donnie was one of the brightest and most clever of the children her age. In the tactical simulations her father had started her on ( a game similar to chess, but in 3 dimensions and in real time ), the tween caught on very quickly. Whenever she lost, her father made it clear why she’d lost. For Donnie, this game became an escape in it’s own right, the girl reading up on tactics to win it from the computer’s database. She still didn’t see the link between it and her flight simulations, but as her father said, it’d come in time.
By the time Donnie was 13, she looked more like a 5’0 tall, 13 year old boy.. Her lanky frame was packed with tightly wound muscle. Her arms, core, back, and legs looked like springs, ready to explode into action. The girl was generally covered in bruises from losing her sparring matches so often, and her mother would joke in the future that for years she didn’t know what Donnie looked like without a pair of black eyes. Beneath the bizarre exterior, though, she had a very pretty, angular ( when not swollen ) face, with high cheekbones, with full lips, a well defined ( if a little wide ) jawline, and well defined, yet feminine chin. Her bright, yellow eyes contrasting with her dark bronze skin like her mother’s. If one were to pay attention, her long legs, arms, and beginnings of her lekku, were an inkling of what was to come.
The next year was the final year where the, now teenagers, trained as a group, and easily the most intense. Firearms were introduced, with them spending time at a shooting range, learning to defend themselves. They were introduced ( on a high stun setting ) to their sparring matches, as were fake knives, and stun batons. Donnie realized there was a very good reason nobody boarded Miki ships, or took Miki slaves. They were simply too much bother, with 14 year olds having larger skill sets in close combat than most soldiers.
It was during this year that Donnie’s years of getting beaten up, basically, finally paid dividends. Her coordination finally improved, combined with her raw toughness from getting hit so hard and so often, the girl became a wall in combat. Due to her being on the losing end for so long, she’d learned what worked and what didn’t, so her combat style was referred to as “sloppy, but efficient.” One of her instructors said. Combine all this with the fact that she had started using the ship’s workout center, and was noticeably stronger, and the awkwardly shaped girl had become a force to be reckoned with in her own right. Aiding this was a sudden growth spurt that increased her height by 4 inches in a year, but didn’t help her awkward, boy-ish shape.
It was during this time that the young woman started noticing others, in “that” way. Over the course of the year, during training and sparring, Donnie started flirting with a dark green male, named Teraj. He was a bigger guy, already 6’0, and in great shape. He was destined to become a “Retriever”, and as such was a force to be reckoned with on the sparring mat. The young woman, however, had learned some things about him, most importantly that he liked “aggressive women”. Something Donnie was happy to oblige, allowing some of their “off hours” sparring sessions to get more heated than would normally be permitted. Eventually, one thing lead to another, and the two sparked a short but intense romance that robbed them both of their virginity, not that anybody cared, their society's view was that it had to happen eventually, it might as well be with somebody you know. They thought of each other as friends, nothing more, and parted ways shortly thereafter, Teraj and his family going to a different ship.
To commemorate the occasion, just before Teraj left, Donnie got her first leg tattoos done, starting at her toes and going upto just below her knees, as well as her first markings “down there”, something only those “experienced” are permitted. She unveiled them to Teraj at their last encounter, calling them a “memento”.
Donnie’s life changed, for the better, when she was 15. Finally over was the basic marital training. The girl could fight well enough, shoot decently, and was in great shape, but she wasn’t bred to be a fighter. No, she was bred to fly. Her actual training was beginning, with her Father finally taking her with him on trading and smuggling runs on his old, beat up, but dependable, YT-2000 freighter called “Ora”, after the Miki goddess of new beginnings, travel, stable hyperspace jumps, and avoiding mass shadows, and low prices on insurance.
Initially, it was just milk runs, to get Donnie familiar with how the ship flew, it’s quirks, how it handled in an atmosphere, things like that. Nothing too strenuous. There was a very good reason for this, and it wasn’t strictly to get her familiar, however. Donnie had grown up with only other Miki around. Yes, she’d seen some “other” species with the Miki’s distinctive “Friend” markings, from time to time, but she could count on one hand without a thumb how many times. The reason for the “Milk Run” style missions was culture shock.
The first few missions were easy, Tatooine, Smuggler’s Run, Ryloth ( where Donnie spent a night and found out just how much she liked girls...). Basically, the sparsely-populated rim systems. Even then, Donnie had more “Oh Goddess…” moments in that 6 months than she’d had in her whole life up to that time. Seeing unmarked Twi’leks was something she’d never get used too, other species that looked to be deformed infants walking around on their hands and using their feet for everything. The young woman found out she had a fondness for a style of music called “rock”, and for greasy fast food.
Ohh, the first time Doneeda had a burger. She was on Tatooine, in Mos Espa, with her father, about 4 months into their journeys together. Upto this point, they only left the ship if they needed too, but Donnie had been to Tatooine so many times she wanted to explore. Her father, still unsure of how the teenager would react to basically everybody staring at the pair of big, muscular, intricately tattooed Twi’leks, reluctantly agreed.
He locked up the ship, and the pair took off, headed for the less seedy part of Mos Espa. As predicted, they were stared at, by everybody. Donnie got a little nervous about it, and scooted off to the side of the street, preferring to hug the walls of the buildings to try to stay out of sight. It was during this terrible attempt at staying out of sight that she - literally - bumped into a rather large Duro. Now, it’s worth noting, that Donnie hadn’t ever seen a Duro before. Her typically cool under pressure personality slipped, and she jumped about 3 feet in the air and screamed.
The Duro meerly chuckled, and nodded his head, at her and her now jogging over Father. “Boska” he said, gesturing to the inside of his fast food restaurant. Donnie looked, a confused look on her face, at her father, who told her to follow the Duro inside. Apparently, he recognized the pair as Miki, and given who they were, offered them a free meal. Donnie’s father told her that “this happens, just go with it.” So, naturally, being a hungry 15 year old, she did.
What happened next, was something Donnie never forgot. She was presented with a thing called a “burger”. It looked decidedly odd, like a cross between some form of sandwich and a piece of deep-fried steak. The little bits of some form of underground plant that had been prepared and also deep fried were vaguely familiar, the Miki having a similar dish made out of a Fungus. The young woman poked at the burger, took the top off and looked at it, recognizing some of the vegetables from the ones the Miki grew hydroponically on their ships. The thing that struck her, however, was the sheer amount of food. Even with her “privileged” status as a Pilot, she’d never had so much food on a plate before.
Finally, after a few moments of analysis, and her Father tearing through nearly half of his burger, Donnie decided to actually try the thing. She picked it up, and nearly had the bun slide out the back. Alsk chuckled and showed her how to actually hold the thing. Donnie held it like he did, with two hands, and then bit into it. The taste that followed was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Growing up, the few times she’d had meat, it was always cured. Ships aren’t a place for livestock, and meat would spoil quite quickly in the humid atmosphere of a ship. Fresh meat was something Donnie had simply never been exposed too. That combined with the spices, and the vegetables, made for a sensation she could only describe as a “Mouth Orgasm”. The Young Twi’lek put the burger down and finished chewing her bite, and then started laughing, exclaiming “oh my goddess, that’s amazing…” before proceeding to devour the whole thing in a matter of minutes.
However. Having never been exposed to A: fresh meat and B: that variety of spices, C: Tomatoes, and D: Mayonase, things went downhill in a hurry. Within about 20 minutes she was getting some serious grumbling going on down south. Followed by sweats ( which her father termed “meat sweats” ), and a general feeling of malaise. They hurried back to the ship, and Donnie spent the night tossing and turning in her bed, convinced the Duro had tried to kill her. The young woman had been sick before, but never, ever, like this. About 4 hours later, her body decided that everything had to come out. Now. Immediate action was required, and she rushed to the bathroom, and sat down. If asked, she’d tell you that what came next was a cross between the most satisfying thing she’s ever felt, and the gates of hell them self opening and unleashing their unholy wrath upon that toilet.
The ship stunk for the better part of 2 days. Donnie didn’t touch a burger again for 4 years. Her father spent the better part of 8 hours in stitches.
As things progressed, Donnie got more responsibility. Initially, it was just flying the ship, that was all. Eventually, it became talking to the controllers on the ground to get landing instructions and give her position. Then, it progressed to getting jump clearance ( a difficult thing for her, as her Basic was still iffy at best ). By the time she was 16, it’d progressed to plotting simple hyperspace jumps between planets. Her father was slowly, but surely, giving her more responsibility. At the same time was teaching her Basic, hyperdimensional physics ( the basics ), and how to manage the ship’s resources. Where to get fuel, how much it’d cost to do a particular run, places to avoid.
She didn’t really notice the process at first, but after a year, she suddenly realized, looking at a hyperspace mass map and with a padd full of scribbled notes regarding fuel and cargo mass, that she was basically running the ship. Donnie suddenly realized her Father felt she was up to scratch, and trusted her. This gave her a pretty massive confidence boost. She was finally good enough, and was impressing the only person who she really gave a damn if she impressed at that point.
Indeed, after about 6 months of Donnie basically taking care of the ship, flying it, landing it, fueling it, and even finding cargos and plotting full hyperspace runs, her father finally looked over at her after she stuck a particularly difficult landing in a storm at Bespin, and said “You’re ready”. Donnie wasn’t sure what he meant, she’d been doing the job for 6 months, what could she be “ready” for she thought. Her father merely chuckled, as he did when Donnie did something naive, and said “You really think I’m training you to be a freighter pilot, Donnie?”.
She’d have some time to mull that over while they crossed the Galaxy for the annual “Big Drop” the fleets did. This time it was in the Northern part of the Galaxy, on Felucia. The flight there was uneventful. Standard Republic Customs stuff on both sides of the border, boring long hyperspace runs. Donnie asked her father a few times during the first week what he meant, the man just chuckled, and didn’t give anything away. By the time they got to the Fleet, Donnie was downright frustrated with the man. That melted away though in the party atmosphere of the Big Drop.
The young woman tore off, got more drunk that she’d ever been, had a few wild nights with Teraj and a girl named Itara, apparently the woman he was in love with. She bartered and traded for a few parts the ship needed, got a bunch of new tattoos on her legs and hips, and expanded her chest and back pieces to go over her shoulders. She generally had such a good time it should have been illegal. When it was all said and done, she’d made numerous new contacts and friends, had a good deal of sore skin, a hangover, and sore lady bits. All signs of a Grancha Hasa well spent.
It was after the Big Drop, that Donnie was looking in a mirror and realized she didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her. Standing 5’10, and with Lekku that extended to her midback and the beginnings of her distinctive black banding on them, the muscular woman didn’t look like a boy anymore. Granted, she didn’t really have a “figure” yet, but the beginnings of breasts dispelled any notion she was anything aside from female. Then, she turned sideways, and let out a small yelp.
Her butt had orbit. She was convinced of this fact. Apparently all the time she spent on the treadmill and in the exercise equipment had, in addition to making her fairly muscular everywhere, had made her backside huge. Donnie knew she was muscular, but the thing that got to her was how disproportionate it was. The 17 year old thought she looked like one of those Zeltron women, known for their curvaceous physiques. Not that it bothered Doneeda, she just hadn’t really taken the time to bother looking at herself for any real period of time, given how busy she’d been. Whenever something stopped fitting, she just got a bigger size, not really worrying about why it didn’t fit.
Once she got back to the fleet with her father, he immediately set to work getting her trained in a Fighter. The transition from the old freighter Donnie was used to to the razor-sharp Z-95 was galling. The first few flights, they took it easy, the two seat trainer set to a simpler flight regime, so she could get the hang of it’s far faster response times and higher G capabilities. Over time, however, the ship’s abilities were slowly unlocked. The flight software being set to allow more aggressive maneuvering and offering less of a safety margin. Donnie picked it up quickly, and after 6 months was soloing in a Z-95 for the first time with some of the other pilots who were her age.
She wasn’t immediately put on the flightline, being only 17 and still somewhat unskilled in actual combat, they instead flew her against or with the more experienced pilots during training missions. She flew with her father progressively less and less, and with the other pilots more and more, encouraging her to pick up tips and tricks from other people than her father. The teen did, and well too. Despite the fact she was constantly uncomfortable in her ill-fitting flightsuit, Donnie’s progress over the year was astonishing. She was well ahead of her peers, and living up to her family name, being a natural in the cockpit.
She was also living up to her family name in another way, as well. Her voracious “appetite”. Not for food, but ‘recreation”. Donnie was a bit of a slut. Once she’d come back from being “away”, she’d realized that she wasn’t nearly as far “behind” physically as she thought she was. That males ( and a good deal of the women) were into her “look”, and that Donnie herself was actually fairly talented when it came to the horizontal hula. Her success with both sexes was aided by the fact that over the course of the year she’d gone from a 34D to a 36DD, gotten far more of a figure ( basically wider hips ), and was now 5’11. Her lekku ( a big part of being “attractive” to male Twi’leks ) had started coming in in earnest, and were now down to her lower back, the tips darkening up quite a bit and her banding becoming very well defined.
Basically, by the time she went to the next Grancha Hasa, there was no question she was a she. A great deal of people, upon seeing her had a slack jawed reaction, the woman changing so much in a year they were astonished. Part of it was because of her work in the gym, and putting on muscle mass, but part of it was also simply because of how good puberty was being to the girl. The result of all this, her new ability and her new looks, was that at the Grancha Hasa, Donnie was somewhat more popular. Instead of having to chase after males, she was being harassed. Instead of having to pay for drinks, and drugs...and ink in a few cases, she was being offered all three for free.
Obviously, Donnie was overwhelmed. The teenager spent most of the hasa on her back ( or knees…), Got more ink in a 1 week period than she thought possible. The whole thing was an absolute blur of drugs, sex and rock and roll basically. Now, this is typically seen as a sign, along with lots of painful skin and tender lady parts, of a Grancha Hasa well spent. However, Donnie also took away another “memento” from her grancha hasa, also typically seen as a sign of it being well spent and successful.
Upon returning to the fleet, the first little while was totally normal. She went out and flew with the squadron, the now 18 Donnie practicing with them. She traded stories about the Hasa, and “recreated” as normal. After a month or so though, she started having some issues in the morning, waking up groggy and feeling nauseous. Her life being as “fast paced” as it was, she didn’t really have any time to worry about it, and just carried on as best she could, snacking whenever she could because she was perpetually hungry and trying her best to keep the nausea under control.
As the Nausea and indigestion, constant hunger and weight gain rolled into the second month, people started noticing. The usually ( at the time ) jacked and well defined muscle everyone was so familiar with on Donnie being “dulled” by a growing layer of fat. She was rarely seen without a snack, munching away on something whenever she had a spare moment. But, despite what she did, her concentration, or the control she had over her body, the Nausea that came and went was becoming a problem, and culminated with her throwing up in her helmet during a training mission.
Donnie woke up in Sickbay, having passed out in a cold sweat. The Doctor asked her to do the generic things, follow the finger with her eyes, and flashed a light in them to make sure she wasn’t brain damaged or something. He did a few simple checks to make sure she didn’t have any sort of brain damage, before sitting down on the edge of her hospital bed and “leveling” with Donnie. She learned a few things. One, her flight status had been revoked. And Two….
She was about 10 weeks pregnant.
Everything the Doctor said after she wouldn’t remember, her mind melting into a goo as she tried to process the fact that she was having a kid at 18. It wasn’t uncommon, a number of the people she’d grown up with were already on number 2, some even 3. What did bother Donnie was the fact that she was having a kid. It wasn’t that she didn’t like kids, quite the opposite, she’d grown up around tons of them, ranging from babies to tweens, and everything in between. Donnie, like most Boska, actually liked kids quite a lot. It was the fact she wasn’t ready, in her mind. She didn’t have a mate, still lived with her parents, and hadn’t even gone on her Bola Cheesa yet.
Donnie did have some options. She could Abort it, she could put it up for adoption within the fleet, or she could have her family help raise it. The latter option was generally what young, mateless, women took, as the Boska tended to have large families and no shortage of relatives willing to help out. She didn’t immediately decide right then and there, but sort of by default. By not aborting it, and not putting it up for adoption, the “family help” option was the one that would happen.
After she was cleared to leave the medical ward, and given a pack of multi-vitamins, Donnie had to go tell her parents the “news”. As would be expected of any Boska parents, they were thrilled, enthusiastic, and excited, even if they were a little disappointed that she hadn’t chosen a mate. Overall, though, the woman’s parents where extremely good about her situation, her mother thrilled ( at the time, 7 months pregnant herself with Donnie’s half sister ), that she’d be having grandchildren. Donnie wasn’t initially as enthusiastic, but over the course of her pregnancy, warmed up to the idea.
As the woman’s “state” progressed, Donnie didn’t give up her recreation. Her doc had told her that there wasn’t anything wrong with having “fun” during pregnancy, just to avoid the drugs and alcohol, which she did. That being said, as she got bigger, it did become more difficult to find partners to recreate with, most simply not being into the “look”, and some not wanting to have to work around her belly. Donnie didn’t care, and redoubled her efforts as her pregnancy progressed, insisting that she was going to have as much fun as possible before she had to take on the responsibility of being a parent.
That responsibility became hers a little after 9 months after the Grancha Hasa, days before her own 19th birthday, in a very crowded delivery room. It’s pretty well known among the Boska that roughly half of the population has a birthday in a 2 week period about 38-40 weeks after the traditional week the Grancha Hasa is held. Nearly everybody Donnie knew had a birthday in that period, her parents, and herself included.
Typical to the Boska, Donnie had a short labor and an easy, uncomplicated birth with very little pain. The Boska believed in taking every step to ensure a natural delivery, as it was safer for the mother and the child, only intervening if it was absolutely necessary. Which, in Donnie’s case, it wasn’t. She was nervous going into the process, but her body and instincts took over and afterwards her opinion of having a kid was more “being huge and moody for 9 months is inconvenient” than “I’m worried about pushing the thing out.”
The result of her congress all those months prior was Donnie’s son, Enarin. He was obviously related to her, with a similar skintone, and eye colour. Facially he looked like the spitting image of her, even as an infant. As Enarin would grow, it’d become obvious that while he physically resembled his mother, the boy took after others personality wise.
The next few years went by very quickly, Donnie working her ass off ( literally, she’d ballooned up quite a bit because of Enarin ), and playing “catch up” in her skills in the cockpit. The Boska, having to keep abreast of the constantly changing galactic borders due to the Clone Wars, were constantly on the move. That necessitated an “all hands on deck” approach to things, and Donnie’s mat leave consisted of a week to get herself fitted for a new flightsuit. Being now 6’0 tall, and with a truly insane bust due to her feeding of Enarin, Donnie didn’t fit into any of the ‘stock” ones they had available.
The Clone Wars produced a number of opportunities for the Boska to hit the Hutts. Either because of the Hutts fighting the CIS and dropping their guard, or because of Republic assistance in the form of pulling away Hutt forces for ops, the Boska rescued more slaves in three years than they had in the prior 30. In addition to this, there was a development of a more “personal” nature for Donnie, coming mere weeks before the end of the Clone Wars, in the form of the woman who’d become the love of her life and eventually Mate, Var.
Var came into Donnie’s life the same way numerous other “strays” had, by the Boska rescuing them from a dangerous/bad situation and offering them a place to stay. The difference, however, was that Donnie rescued Var, and that Var wasn’t any average Stray. She was a force user, on the run from the Jedi. Donnie, at the time, wasn’t sure if it was her desire to do something to undermine the Jedi, or the pants Var was wearing, but she felt compelled to help the woman, and did.
Both of them remember that day on Garqi when they met, Donnie recognizing Var’s tattoos, marking her as a friend, and Var recognizing Doneeda’s Boska markings. The awkward conversation in the bar. The result was a very enjoyable night, fueled by Donnie’s desire ( initally.. ) to simply sleep with the woman, and Var’s desire to end her dry spell. Eventually Donnie would realize she had feelings far more complicated than just simply physical lust for Var, and that she couldn’t offer her everything she needed. Donnie not being the type ( generally. ) to bother with fancy dresses and Caviar.
As the two progressed in their relationship, Donnie found out about Var’s Forcie nature, but she’d waited to tell Var about Enarin, so Donnie couldn’t really hold it against her. After about a year or so, some gentle persuasion, and occasional outright poking and pushing, Donnie managed to get Var to finally go on dates with the “high-class” men she needed in her life. It didn’t change how Donnie and Var felt about each other, the pair growing closer by the day. What it did do was allow Var to get what she needed, and while doing that, let Donnie get the dirty, lekku pulling, ass slapping, on the pool table after a night of drinking moonshine with a pilot, FUCKING she needed.
That’s not to say the pair didn’t satisfy one and other immensely, both in bed, and otherwise. They wouldn’t have stayed with each other had there not been a mutual attraction and ability to “please”. Donnie and Var’s polyamorous nature wasn’t out of boredom with the other, it was out of trust and maturity, the pair still working to keep the romance and “interest” in their relationship, but understanding that there were certain things Doneeda couldn’t do for Var, and certain things Var couldn’t do for Doneeda. They still loved each other deeply, and it was because of that they were able to trust one and other enough to maintain their arrangement.
An arrangement that, a year or so after Var started doing her thing, resulted in another child being brought into their lives. A few months after Var had a particularly romantic date with a very well spoken, high class, Nautolan, she found out she was pregnant. Donnie was stunned. Not because of anything except the fact that she thought Twi’leks were compatible with Twi’leks. The Ships’s Surgeon explained to them both that Nautolians and Twi’leks were genetic cousins, and it was possible for them to produce offspring, as Var had found out.
During this period, Donnie and Var became a recognized couple in the Boska. This was partially due to the fact that they’d been together so long and were having a child together, but also so that Var’s child could benefit from Donnie’s status with the Boska. Var decided to name her Niriaba’Soaknadaa. Var’s family name, Aba was mixed into Niri’s first name, and due to their “space married” status, Donnie’s family name gave Niri her status. In addition to this, the pair, both having fairly unwieldy and “ethnic” names tended to clip theirs, so they figured they might as well clip Niriaba’s down to Niri as well.
At a late stage in the pregnancy, and after much debate, Var landed on using the colour Green for Niri’s tattooing. It fit with her views of honesty and courage she hoped Niri to embody, and was a favourite of the pilots. Donnie hoped, wished, in fact, that Niri would become one, Enarin even that early on showing signs he was definitely not cut out for it. She also had pretty high hopes for Niri as the girl would, by virtue of her birth, be the “next in line” for head of the Oaknadaa family, the expectation being she’d be a first rate pilot at very least.
Donnie helped the woman through the ordeal, keeping her in high spirits while she was pregnant and being there for ( and helping a lot with ) the definitely not-boska style birth. Var not possessing the “hips you could fly a freighter through” that most Boska women did. As such it was a considerably longer, and louder, experience that Doneeda did her best to help Var through. All 36 hours of it. Needless to say, Var was far more careful about contraceptives moving forward.
Due to Var’s utter lack of knowledge about what to do with a baby, and Donnie’s experience ( from both raising Enarin and being a Boska ), she took a very active role in Niri’s upbringing. As far as Doneeda’s concerned, Niri’s her kid as much as she is Var’s. Donnie doesn't care she’s mixed race, the woman loves her little tentacle baby the same as Enarin, and would do anything for her, seeing her as her own Daughter.
In addition to this, to help Var out with Niri, Donnie took a round of drugs that got her milk flowing again. This had the benefit of allowing her to feed the baby. Letting Var get some much needed rest, the pair taking shifts feeding the infant. Donnie figured her boobs might as well do something in addition to looking pretty. The side effect of the drugs, however, was the fact that they caused Donnie to put on about 35 lbs. This resulted in her no longer looking like she was carved out of something and more like a freakishly large breasted sex goddess of some form, losing most of her muscle definition in her quest to help her mate and newly minted Daughter.
The next few years flew by, with two young children underfoot, and Donnie’s increased responsibility due to the retirement of the head of her family, finding time to do anything aside from work and sleep was a real chore. In the rare instances where Donnie and Var managed to get away from it all, typically on a procurement mission in the old YT-2000 Donnie owned, the pair tended to make the best use of their time, enjoying each other's company, doing their “date” thing, generally finding ways to relax. Everything was going swimmingly until a fateful event in 11bby, at Abregado-Rae, changed their and every Miki Boska’s life forever.
At the yearly meet up of the Miki Boska, their “Grand Drop”, or Grancha Hasa, towards the end, on the idyllic world of Abregado-Rae, the Empire saw an opportunity it simply couldn’t pass up. The Imperials showed up with a force of 3 ISD’s and thousands of troops, and simply started arresting Boska, and shooting those who resisted. Due to Var’s force sensitivity, and Donnie’s quick thinking, the pair managed to escape and meet up with the rest of the Boska who’s fled. Out of the nearly 350,000 that lived in the fleet, a mere 38,000 managed to escape. In one day the Empre had managed to take out 90% of the Boska’s population.
Still reeling from this, the fleet quickly reformed outside of Imperial space. Realizing they needed to rid themselves of the centuries old ships they had, and get leaner and faster, a number were ditched while they ran. The first of this “new breed” of ships was a Munificent class frigate they picked up for a song. It’d had it’s heavier weaponry stripped, but was still more capable than anything in the fleet at the time, and formed the backbone of it’s fighting force.
Due to the leadership of the Boska being decimated, the Council of 11 relied far more heavily on the 22 than they had in the past, requiring them to basically run the government. Some of those who’d ascended to positions on the Council being second or third cousins of those who’d been there prior, and/or very, very young. The leader of the O’ta family, the one Donnie’s was War Guard too, was a mere 16 years old when he took leadership of the O’ta family. This basically meant that Donnie had gone, overnight from “some” responsibility to “a considerable amount”. Her family was the First Spear to the O’tas and as such, she was directly in charge of their fighting force. A fighting force that was in disarray.
This was all in addition to her, now far more important, role as a procurer. There was now a considerably higher amount of pressure on Donnie and Var to get useful “things” for the fleet. Literally everything from food to toilet paper was in short supply, and it was down to the very few remaining procurers to try to source it as quickly as they could. All this in addition to trying to find new ships to replenish their nearly non-existent fighting force.
The result was that Donnie and Var found themselves away from the fleet far more and for far longer than they’d typically been in the past. This was a double-edged sword, as it gave them considerably more time together, minus the rugrats, but it also meant that they didn’t get to spend as much time as they, or at least Donnie wanted too. The woman legitimately missed Niri and Enarin, and it stressed her out a ton. Enough that, during a supply run, when Var was off on a date, Donnie made a fairly stupid decision that came and bit her in the ass about 6 months later.
Basically, Donnie made a porno with a Thakwaash in their bedroom on the ship. It went fairly unknown for a few months, but, Var managed to find out. She’d apparently seen the video out in the fleet and came home and was ready to kill Donnie. The result was that Donnie was banished to the couch for “the rest of her ever.”. Not a good situation, but the woman had a plan.
Donnie’s brother, Vax, was getting “space married” to his long time flame. As such, they had the option to go on a holiday together. Now, Vax didn’t have a ship, as his got destroyed during the Imperial assault on Abregado-Rae, so Donnie offered to sell him the YT-2000 she owned. He agreed, and Donnie’s plan went into action. She used her influence to move all of her and Var’s stuff off the ship, then, using the money she’d gotten from the sale of the 2000 and ALL of her savings, bought a 10 or so year old YT-2400, dubbed “snowball”.
Moving quickly and pulling more strings than she probably should have, Donnie got the ship outfitted with a Jacuzzi and then docked into the same position as the old YT-2000 they’d been living in up till then. With a quick comm to Var, Donnie was able to ( with a certain amount of fanfare ) unveil their new living space. Complete with the Jacuzzi Var’d been bugging her about and, the most important part as Donnie said, new sheets.
The result was successful. Var let Donnie back “in”, on the condition she never tape one of her sexcapades ever again. Enarin and Niri were thrilled with their larger living space, no longer being cramped into small rooms in the upper deck of a YT-2000, and each having their own, full sized room, with windows to boot. Donnie liked it because of it’s Class 1 hyper drive and considerably stronger shielding and armor plating, making her feel safer taking the family around in it if they needed too, and Var liked it because it had a Jacuzzi, and she could put more space between herself and Tater, Donnie’s borderline retarded R5 unit.
As before, the next few years went by fast. The fleet constantly rebuilding and acquiring and outfitting 10 CR-70 ships, and 5 CR-90 corvettes for defense. Their production up and running, with Donnie and the other Military leader’s help, they had a fighter wing and were able to defend themselves rather well, using the Muni’s extremely good sensors to stay one step ahead of the Imperials, playing a large scale game of cat and mouse throughout the outer rim. During this turbulent time, the Boska, directed by the 22 ( the leaders of the families who advised the ruling 11 ), agreed to cease their overt aggression against the hutts and focus on survival instead. They favoured small-scale integration of rescued Boska and slaves, accepting members from their extensive and largely untouched Diaspora across the galaxy who wanted to help.
Procurement teams, such as Donnie and Var, were now tasked with also trying to find captured Boska or rescue slaves if they could, in addition to their standard duties. It was made clear to them not to stray from their primary mission, and not to put the fleet in danger to rescue slaves, as the Fleets ability to defend itself, even with it’s extra ships, was still very weak.
Presently, Donnie is a sitting member of the Council of 22 and and advisor to the O’ta leadership on military members. She’s also one of ( if not the ) highest ranked Procurer in the fleet and is sort of the de facto leader of that sub group. She’s also still doing the “mom” thing with Enarin and Niri, raising them the best she can under the circumstances.
Miscellaneous Crap:
Species: Twi’lek
Faction: Miki Boska
Rank: Family Head ( Oaknadaa )
Age: 35
Height: 1.85m
Weight: 88kg
Appearance:
Face Claim: Kat Dennings
Physical:
The first thing that’d strike you upon meeting Donnie is the scale of the woman. With dark bronze skin, subdued yellow eyes, and Standing 1.83m ( 6 foot for you yanks ) tall, in extremely good shape, she’s quite a lot to take in. Amazonian would be an apt description for her, the woman being very obviously feminine, but powerfully built and very pretty.
Starting with her head, the woman sports the typical long boska lekku, touching the top of her butt if her head is held at normal height. On the Lekku is a chevron pattern, 5cm wide and 5cm apart , with the tip pointing to the end of her lekku. The “darker” part of the chevron is nearly black, while the lighter part is the same as the rest of her skintone. The tips of her lekku, the last 20cm or so, are solid dark brown.
Moving further down, to her body, the time she’s spent in the gym and her genetic predisposition becoming apparent, as do her 50(42F)-30-50* measurements. She’s not shredded or jacked, but has a decent amount of muscle on display, enough that it’s obvious she takes care of herself, but not to the point of a body builder. She has very little “extra” fat, basically. Her arms and shoulders, though a little wide, are similar to her back, maintaining enough muscle to be intimidating but not be gross. Her midsection is that of a woman who takes care of herself, but obviously isn’t interested in obtaining a six pack, as the definition she has there is just that of somebody in good shape.
Moving yet further southward, to the women's toned legs. Like her upper half, Donnie’s legs share their northern partners limited definition. She tends to put weight on her thighs and butt, so while there’s limited definition there, she can’t do anything about it, it’s gonna jiggle regardless of what she does. Her lower legs and calves are those of a woman who’s spent a good deal of time in a squat rack, and are one of her less feminine traits. Finally, at the bottom, are her feet.
If Donnie has one, difinitively un-feminine trait, it’s her feet, they’re rather large. Not clown-feet large, but big enough that people tend to note it if they see her without shoes on.
Tattoos:
Donnie has a good deal of ink due to the Tribe she’s from and their beliefs. The upper half of her chest and right breast covered in blood-red, maori style tribal tattoos. They flow down her right arm and finish on her hand. The left side of the tattoo moves over the top of her left breast and down her left arm, stopping just before the elbow, and resuming at her wrist, covering her index finger and thumb.
Her Lekku are tattooed with similarly “flowy” Maori-style markings, obviously unfinished ( there’s a lot more space, basically ), they are a sign that she’s “of age”.
The tattoos on her chest flow over her shoulders and cover the top third of her back, linking up with a set that come up from her hips and cover the majority of her butt, and link up on the bottom with her leg pieces. The side pieces snake around elegantly and tie into a set of tattoos that skirt the top of her pants, and disappear “down below”. ( yes, shes got tattoos “down there” ).
Her legs are covered with Maori-Style tribal pieces from her toes to her well, hips. They cover the leg in an intricate array of lines and patterns, interlocking with her tattoos she has on her hips and back. Notably, her lower back, face, and “belly” are NOT covered with tattoos. Something else of note, is that in addition to the striking blood-red colour of the tattoos, they are also UV reactive that is they glow blue under UV light, this is something generally only the Miki know, and it’s used to “enhance” the tattoos on a member of the tribe, and to identify them. It’s used to add meaning and depth.
On the top of her back, where her neck meets it, she’s got a tattoo that’s Blue instead of red. This has a gold highlight and is actually the Boska version of a “wedding ring.”. The reason for the different colours is because they are the colours that Var has on her Tattoos. The UV colour is silver, like Var’s. In addition to this, the Gold accent ( used to symbolize the success of their relationship ) is Gold both under regular and UV light.
In addition to this, both her nipples are pierced ( something only Var knows, and those who are intimate with her find out), with simple gold barbels. If she’s got some “lead time” Donnie will swap them out for something “racier” to please her mate. Her belly-button is pierced and she typically has a gold, with Ruby accented six-pointed flower in. Further “downstairs”, Donnie has a clit piercing she got in a drunken escapade with Var some years ago.
Clothing:
Doneeda is generally found wearing a white, tight fitting, low cut, tank top that stops just low enough to cover what needs to be covered, and just high enough to show off her belly-button and some of the definition of her core. Below that, overtop of the pair of narrow black strips of fabric arcing over her hips and diving down behind them, is a pair of low riding, dark-brown cargo pants. While they aren’t un-flattering ( very little is on Donnie. ) they are ill-fitting, being obviously tightly pulled through the hips and across the “back”. They are held up by a simple, black, canvas belt that is secured at the front by a plastic clip.
Hanging from her right hip, in a dark brown leather drop-leg holster, is a well worn DL-18 Blaster. Doneeda isn’t the best shot, and she’s not particularly fast on the draw, but it’s better to have it and not need it, is her motto. Sitting high on the right ( above the holster ) and arcing across to sit below her left hip is a basic utility belt. It holds things like her keys, an electronic diagnostic unit for helping with repairs, a few extra batteries for her blaster, a 6” long bowie knife ( on the left ), and a small pouch with a few credits in it, as well as a small holster for a set of utility pliers. ( space leatherman), and a clip to attach her comm unit too. ( Space Blackberry
) On her feet Donnie wears a pair of mid-calf high dark brown, well worn, boots. They’ve obviously seen better days, but are in good enough shape and not falling apart. They have scratches and marks in the leather from seeing a few years of abuse, and the soles have been replaced a few times. On her right lower calf, Donnie has a small punch knife in a holster.
She wears a simple, digital watch on her left wrist, and a myriad of simple, multicoloured, rope or twine bracelets on her right for religious reasons ( good luck, warding off evil spirits, etc ). She has a few simple necklaces on as well (similarly multi-coloured) , with small, wooden carved runes on some of them for similar reasons. Around her Lekku, at various points, are similar lekkulaces, of a variety of faded colours, without the carvings attached.
Personality:
Woman raised in tight-knit, polyamorous-ish, nomadic, vaguely militaristic, cult-like group of space Twi’leks who are bent on stopping slavery. This is the environment within which Donnie’s personality was formed, and it’s important to keep that in mind.
Donnie is a product of her environment, weather or not she likes to admit it. The woman’s strongest, if not defining trait, is her giving nature. She will give time, energy, money and whatever else she can to help those she cares about, her son and daughter especially.The woman’s not one to make swift judgements based on appearance, and instead prefers to get to know somebody before deciding how to feel about them. A result of this is a willingness to give people “a chance”. Basically, she’ll give you the rope, weather you turn it into a noose or use it to help yourself is your call.
Perhaps because she’s a parent, or simply because of her upbringing, Donnie is extraordinarily tolerant. Of other’s failings, insults, etc, she tries to either grin and bear it or understand why somebody’s the way they are before telling them to stop. She’s nearly incapable of malice, and it takes quite a bit to actually make her truly angry. Donnie’s compassion is another one of her defining characteristics, the woman genuinely wanting to help those who are in need, and expecting nothing in return.
If anything, of the above, were to be singled out, it’s that she does “good” things and expects nothing back, not because she’s trying to get fame or status, but because she just genuinely believes in it.
Donnie’s sense of humor is offbeat and a little perverse. She tends to enjoy dry, more sarcastic wordplay rathern than overt slapstick style humor, and will “press” on somebody until they either admit that what’s going on is funny, or actually get angry and tell her to stop. Conversely, Donnie’s pretty good at being on the receiving end of a joke herself. Growing up with a father famous for Dadjokes and then taking on a significant other ( Var ) who’s tongue may actually be a sword, it’s the only way she kept her sanity.
Overall, the woman would be considered to be fun loving. Her risk taking has dropped off a great deal since she’s become a mother, but that hasn’t stopped her from finding other ways to have fun. Not just involving a bed, either. She’s not what would be considered to be happy go lucky, but Donnie likes to joke around with her friends, kids, and generally finds ways to have fun with whoever’s around in one way or another. Be it by cuddling up with Var and watching a hilariously badly translated movie, helping Enarin with one of his engineering projects, teaching Niri how to fly, or something else entirely, the woman’s typically able to find something to do and is rarely bored. Now, all of this isn’t to say she’s not still a Boska, Donnie can drink like a Corellian dockworker, and fight with the best of ‘em. In that regard, she’s a product of her environment in a big way.
Relationships are another place where she really shows how she’s a product of her environment in a big way. Donnie isn’t capable of being monogamous, at all. She is capable of loving only one person, which she does, but the woman’s not able to simply sleep with only Var. Her needs are too varied, as are her wants, and she’s not about to give them up, nor live a life she doesn’t enjoy, so somebody else can feel satisfied. Even if she loves that somebody else, to her it makes no sense to live a life you don’t like for that somebody else. To her, the people you love should enable you to live the life you want to live, and love you for being who you are.
Tied up in this is Donnie’s trusting nature. Over the years, she’s built up a relationship with Var that allows her to trust the woman to an extent that some would consider ridiculous. In reality, it’s an implicit trust that Var wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt her, and vice versa. Essentially, since Donnie can’t get what she needs from Var all the time, she’s free to go “out” and get what she needs. Which, typically involves her screaming into a pillow while somebody pulls her lekku while slapping her ass and pumping a baby into her.
As far as children are concerned, she loves Enarin, her son, with every fiber of her being. Donnie would, literally, do anything for him, sometimes to his detriment. The same is true for Niri, Var’s daughter that Donnie has been around since birth. As far as she’s concerned, Niri is as much her child as Enarin is. The woman’s a decent mother, not doting, but not ignorant of her children’s needs either. She does have some issues setting boundaries or saying “no” to them, enforcing discipline and tends to be a “soft touch”. Her stance is that all she can do is be there for them when they fall, literally and figuratively. If they’re going to do something, there’s not much she can do to stop them, aside from telling them that it’s a bad idea or encouraging them to take a different option or path.
She is deeply spiritual, as shown by her extensive tattooing and wearing of various talismans and trinkets. Donnie genuinely does believe there are gods who watch over and protect her and the Boska, and that by doing good things she’s helping the universe be a better place. The woman’s not deluded enough to think that approving leave for one of her subordinates is going to fix all the problems, but she does believe that good deeds have a way of coming back.
Finally, there’s Donnie’s appreciation for direct, concise, honest communication. Growing up with the pragmatic Boska, who don’t mince words, Donnie prefers people be honest with her. She’s one of the few people who can legitimately say they will not hold a grudge, get angry, or hold it against you, your opinion, as long as it’s honest. From criticism on a failed negotiation for a shipment of self sealing stem bolts, to the ever dangerous question of “Does this make my ass look fat?”, she expects the response to be honest. If that means you have to tell her “Damnit woman, this is a dinner not an S&M party, buy clothes your own size!” Then so be it.
All this being said, she does, to an extent, have two modes of operation. Being basically in charge of roughly 60% of the Boska combat airwing, as well as various other combat forces, Donnie’s gotten good at being able to “turn off” the “nicer” parts of her personality so she can get the job done. The woman understands that sometimes she needs to basically be a bitch, or that sometimes she needs to listen to a stupid story about what somebody’s kid did so she can get to the meat of a particular topic with a subordinate. Essentially, Donnie can “turn off” her emotions when it comes to being in charge of a fighting force, or when she’s in a combat situation. It’s this ability to separate herself from the situation and not see the forest for the trees that’s earned her the respect of her subordinates and success in her position.
History:
Doneeda was born on the 8th of Relona ( 9th month ), in 39 BBY, on the Al’Tai, to a pair of loving parents, Alsk (19) and Alema (18) Oaknadaa. Being born to a pair of Pilots, and their first child no less, earmarked the girl as a Pilot from day one. As such, she was taken to the families religious leader for his blessing, and for her first “marking”.
The girl’s first tattoo was a small red dot, on her right shoulder, which would eventually become the basis for all her other “markings” to grow from. The event, though traumatic for a 5 day old infant, rapidly faded from her memory as the skin healed. The little girl lead a fairly uneventful first few years. Learning to walk about a year later ( and getting ink for that ) and then run ( yet more ). As the years progressed before she was “of age” to begin learning her trade, her ink radiated out from the small “dot” on her right shoulder, snaking down her arm and beginning to cascade over her shoulder.
At the ripe old age of four, when most children in the galaxy were going to their first day of school, Donnie walked the 400m up the ship with her father to accompany him in a flight simulator. If asked, to this day, Doneeda will still profess that was the day she fell in love. The two hours she spent in the simulator, soaring over a crudely computer generated landscape of Ryloth’s day side, to her 4 year old mind, was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen. The little girl cried for an hour after her Father said they had to go, and start talking about the basics of some stupid thing called “numbers”.
Over the next year or so, she went with her Father and her Mother ( until she got too big, as she was having her brother ), to the simulator, initially just observing, her father pointing out various land marks, all the while speaking in what sounded like a foreign language to somebody called “roger”. At the same time, the young girl was being taught her numbers. How to count, the alphabet, and a few words in a silly-sounding language called “Basic”. Eventually, Donnie was allowed to fly the speeder, albeit with her father holding the other set of controls, chuckling as she tried to direct the virtual craft into a tree she found interesting.
Over the course of all her lessons, neither of her parents would chide her for a mistake. Meerly chuckle with amusement at the innocent wonder of a child wide eyed and awestruck by a crude computer simulation of a homeworld they hadn’t seen in centuries. Instead, the girl’s parents would give her a reward for doing something right in the simulation. Stick the landing? Extra Dessert. Be able to remember what 4+2 is during the flight? Extra hour to stay up. So it went, as the young girl passed her 6 birthday, she was already a more capable pilot than most who had just graduated school. Granted, she didn’t know her times tables, nor could she identify her position on a map, but give her a stick and rudder, and a landing pad, and that kid could put that ship on that pad the majority of the time.
As her childhood years progressed, Donnie’s education did as well. The simulator time increased, generally to about 3 hours a day, as did her “schooling”. It wasn’t, in the normal sense, what one would call schooling. She learned her times tables from an electrician, as Ohms law required she had a basic understanding of math. Her Oral skills came from spending a few days a month with one of the people responsible for comms, while being taught about communications gear. Reading was unavoidable, with nearly everything on the ship having some kind of documentation attached to it, and a log of who’d done what, some going back a few hundred years. Her instruction on “how” a ship worked was also an ongoing thing. Living on a ship that was a few hundred years old, and being held together ( literally in some cases ) by duct tape and bailing wire meant that she got a great deal of exposure to jerry rigging.
In addition to her education regarding the more intellectual matters, her spiritual education continued as well. Doneeda received more of her traditional “markings” as she aged, some meaning she’d passed through some part of her life, or achieved something, some that she chose to represent beliefs she personally held. her spiritual education taught her that life was a gift, and that the Miki’s purpose was to give that gift to those who had been denied it.
It was when Donnie was 10 that she started her real training. Training for a life of combat, both in and out of the cockpit. Her trainers believed that the only way to have a healthy ( and therefore, cunning and combat ready ) mind was to have a similarly trained body. The training initially, just having her run around the outside corridors of the ship. 400m to a side, and 45m across, it totaled to just under a kilometer per lap. This was to get the lanky 10 year old into shape, as much as it was to teach her that orders had to be followed. After a month or so, it progressed to hand to hand combat training with others her own age. They mixed the males and females in the class, and didn’t allow any of them to “pull punches”. They were going to be mixing it up with slavers and pirates, they had to be tough.
This was, easily, the hardest part of Donnie’s life. She was shorter, and skinnier than every other kid, and so uncoordinated it was hilarious. She’d try for a throw, and wind up in a pretzel shape on the ground. She’d try to block, and wind up blocking air and taking a hit to the face. Doneeda wasn’t a fighter, that was for sure. But, she always got back up. Donnie’s mantra became “Am I hurt, or am I injured?” whenever she was knocked down, out of breath, or seemingly unable to keep up. What the girl lacked in marital skill and coordination, she more than made up for in heart and determination. It got to the point where other’s didn’t like fighting her because they’d hit the girl, hard, and Donnie would laugh at them and start trash talking. Accusing them of hitting like her 3 year old brother, or not being able to knock down a girl pilot.
It was, however, a front. Donnie spent more times crying herself to sleep those years than not. Due to her inability to “Keep up”, and seeing herself as “not good enough”, she’d become somebody who put on a tough, aggressive facade, but in reality, was hurting on the inside. In tests and sparring, she’d be the first to volunteer, not because she was the best, but to “just get it overwith”.
Try as she might, even at 12, she wasn’t as big, or as strong, as even the other girls in her age group who were learning to fight. Her aggressive “I’ll take on anybody” facade, and hurling of insults during a fight was out of fear. Some people deal with fear by shying away. Some, by not saying a word, still others by running. Doneeda deals with it by questioning it’s parentage and sexual orientation. If Death was a being, and Donnie met him, you can be assured she’d probably spit in his face and tell him to do something unspeakable to a bantha. She’s one of those rare people who draw a form of strength from their fear, and use it to focus their anger and fury onto a single person or target, and clear their mind and bring on a form of “battle calm”.
It was this aggressive front that lead to a number of her tattoos, most notably the ones on her sides and right hand. The ones on her sides, she got as targets, baiting people to attack her. The one that covers her right hand is supposed to look like it’s an armored, clawed, gauntlet.
Throughout all of this tumultuous period of her young life, Donnie’s parents were supportive. Her father continued teaching her to fly, Donnie seeing it as a release, and a way to relax, even though they were on to advanced combat simulations. When the girl was flying, she felt like she was free, away from all the stresses and anger and frustration caused by her body’s stubborn refusal to grow and keep up. Indeed, in stark contrast, Donnie was one of the brightest and most clever of the children her age. In the tactical simulations her father had started her on ( a game similar to chess, but in 3 dimensions and in real time ), the tween caught on very quickly. Whenever she lost, her father made it clear why she’d lost. For Donnie, this game became an escape in it’s own right, the girl reading up on tactics to win it from the computer’s database. She still didn’t see the link between it and her flight simulations, but as her father said, it’d come in time.
By the time Donnie was 13, she looked more like a 5’0 tall, 13 year old boy.. Her lanky frame was packed with tightly wound muscle. Her arms, core, back, and legs looked like springs, ready to explode into action. The girl was generally covered in bruises from losing her sparring matches so often, and her mother would joke in the future that for years she didn’t know what Donnie looked like without a pair of black eyes. Beneath the bizarre exterior, though, she had a very pretty, angular ( when not swollen ) face, with high cheekbones, with full lips, a well defined ( if a little wide ) jawline, and well defined, yet feminine chin. Her bright, yellow eyes contrasting with her dark bronze skin like her mother’s. If one were to pay attention, her long legs, arms, and beginnings of her lekku, were an inkling of what was to come.
The next year was the final year where the, now teenagers, trained as a group, and easily the most intense. Firearms were introduced, with them spending time at a shooting range, learning to defend themselves. They were introduced ( on a high stun setting ) to their sparring matches, as were fake knives, and stun batons. Donnie realized there was a very good reason nobody boarded Miki ships, or took Miki slaves. They were simply too much bother, with 14 year olds having larger skill sets in close combat than most soldiers.
It was during this year that Donnie’s years of getting beaten up, basically, finally paid dividends. Her coordination finally improved, combined with her raw toughness from getting hit so hard and so often, the girl became a wall in combat. Due to her being on the losing end for so long, she’d learned what worked and what didn’t, so her combat style was referred to as “sloppy, but efficient.” One of her instructors said. Combine all this with the fact that she had started using the ship’s workout center, and was noticeably stronger, and the awkwardly shaped girl had become a force to be reckoned with in her own right. Aiding this was a sudden growth spurt that increased her height by 4 inches in a year, but didn’t help her awkward, boy-ish shape.
It was during this time that the young woman started noticing others, in “that” way. Over the course of the year, during training and sparring, Donnie started flirting with a dark green male, named Teraj. He was a bigger guy, already 6’0, and in great shape. He was destined to become a “Retriever”, and as such was a force to be reckoned with on the sparring mat. The young woman, however, had learned some things about him, most importantly that he liked “aggressive women”. Something Donnie was happy to oblige, allowing some of their “off hours” sparring sessions to get more heated than would normally be permitted. Eventually, one thing lead to another, and the two sparked a short but intense romance that robbed them both of their virginity, not that anybody cared, their society's view was that it had to happen eventually, it might as well be with somebody you know. They thought of each other as friends, nothing more, and parted ways shortly thereafter, Teraj and his family going to a different ship.
To commemorate the occasion, just before Teraj left, Donnie got her first leg tattoos done, starting at her toes and going upto just below her knees, as well as her first markings “down there”, something only those “experienced” are permitted. She unveiled them to Teraj at their last encounter, calling them a “memento”.
Donnie’s life changed, for the better, when she was 15. Finally over was the basic marital training. The girl could fight well enough, shoot decently, and was in great shape, but she wasn’t bred to be a fighter. No, she was bred to fly. Her actual training was beginning, with her Father finally taking her with him on trading and smuggling runs on his old, beat up, but dependable, YT-2000 freighter called “Ora”, after the Miki goddess of new beginnings, travel, stable hyperspace jumps, and avoiding mass shadows, and low prices on insurance.
Initially, it was just milk runs, to get Donnie familiar with how the ship flew, it’s quirks, how it handled in an atmosphere, things like that. Nothing too strenuous. There was a very good reason for this, and it wasn’t strictly to get her familiar, however. Donnie had grown up with only other Miki around. Yes, she’d seen some “other” species with the Miki’s distinctive “Friend” markings, from time to time, but she could count on one hand without a thumb how many times. The reason for the “Milk Run” style missions was culture shock.
The first few missions were easy, Tatooine, Smuggler’s Run, Ryloth ( where Donnie spent a night and found out just how much she liked girls...). Basically, the sparsely-populated rim systems. Even then, Donnie had more “Oh Goddess…” moments in that 6 months than she’d had in her whole life up to that time. Seeing unmarked Twi’leks was something she’d never get used too, other species that looked to be deformed infants walking around on their hands and using their feet for everything. The young woman found out she had a fondness for a style of music called “rock”, and for greasy fast food.
Ohh, the first time Doneeda had a burger. She was on Tatooine, in Mos Espa, with her father, about 4 months into their journeys together. Upto this point, they only left the ship if they needed too, but Donnie had been to Tatooine so many times she wanted to explore. Her father, still unsure of how the teenager would react to basically everybody staring at the pair of big, muscular, intricately tattooed Twi’leks, reluctantly agreed.
He locked up the ship, and the pair took off, headed for the less seedy part of Mos Espa. As predicted, they were stared at, by everybody. Donnie got a little nervous about it, and scooted off to the side of the street, preferring to hug the walls of the buildings to try to stay out of sight. It was during this terrible attempt at staying out of sight that she - literally - bumped into a rather large Duro. Now, it’s worth noting, that Donnie hadn’t ever seen a Duro before. Her typically cool under pressure personality slipped, and she jumped about 3 feet in the air and screamed.
The Duro meerly chuckled, and nodded his head, at her and her now jogging over Father. “Boska” he said, gesturing to the inside of his fast food restaurant. Donnie looked, a confused look on her face, at her father, who told her to follow the Duro inside. Apparently, he recognized the pair as Miki, and given who they were, offered them a free meal. Donnie’s father told her that “this happens, just go with it.” So, naturally, being a hungry 15 year old, she did.
What happened next, was something Donnie never forgot. She was presented with a thing called a “burger”. It looked decidedly odd, like a cross between some form of sandwich and a piece of deep-fried steak. The little bits of some form of underground plant that had been prepared and also deep fried were vaguely familiar, the Miki having a similar dish made out of a Fungus. The young woman poked at the burger, took the top off and looked at it, recognizing some of the vegetables from the ones the Miki grew hydroponically on their ships. The thing that struck her, however, was the sheer amount of food. Even with her “privileged” status as a Pilot, she’d never had so much food on a plate before.
Finally, after a few moments of analysis, and her Father tearing through nearly half of his burger, Donnie decided to actually try the thing. She picked it up, and nearly had the bun slide out the back. Alsk chuckled and showed her how to actually hold the thing. Donnie held it like he did, with two hands, and then bit into it. The taste that followed was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Growing up, the few times she’d had meat, it was always cured. Ships aren’t a place for livestock, and meat would spoil quite quickly in the humid atmosphere of a ship. Fresh meat was something Donnie had simply never been exposed too. That combined with the spices, and the vegetables, made for a sensation she could only describe as a “Mouth Orgasm”. The Young Twi’lek put the burger down and finished chewing her bite, and then started laughing, exclaiming “oh my goddess, that’s amazing…” before proceeding to devour the whole thing in a matter of minutes.
However. Having never been exposed to A: fresh meat and B: that variety of spices, C: Tomatoes, and D: Mayonase, things went downhill in a hurry. Within about 20 minutes she was getting some serious grumbling going on down south. Followed by sweats ( which her father termed “meat sweats” ), and a general feeling of malaise. They hurried back to the ship, and Donnie spent the night tossing and turning in her bed, convinced the Duro had tried to kill her. The young woman had been sick before, but never, ever, like this. About 4 hours later, her body decided that everything had to come out. Now. Immediate action was required, and she rushed to the bathroom, and sat down. If asked, she’d tell you that what came next was a cross between the most satisfying thing she’s ever felt, and the gates of hell them self opening and unleashing their unholy wrath upon that toilet.
The ship stunk for the better part of 2 days. Donnie didn’t touch a burger again for 4 years. Her father spent the better part of 8 hours in stitches.
As things progressed, Donnie got more responsibility. Initially, it was just flying the ship, that was all. Eventually, it became talking to the controllers on the ground to get landing instructions and give her position. Then, it progressed to getting jump clearance ( a difficult thing for her, as her Basic was still iffy at best ). By the time she was 16, it’d progressed to plotting simple hyperspace jumps between planets. Her father was slowly, but surely, giving her more responsibility. At the same time was teaching her Basic, hyperdimensional physics ( the basics ), and how to manage the ship’s resources. Where to get fuel, how much it’d cost to do a particular run, places to avoid.
She didn’t really notice the process at first, but after a year, she suddenly realized, looking at a hyperspace mass map and with a padd full of scribbled notes regarding fuel and cargo mass, that she was basically running the ship. Donnie suddenly realized her Father felt she was up to scratch, and trusted her. This gave her a pretty massive confidence boost. She was finally good enough, and was impressing the only person who she really gave a damn if she impressed at that point.
Indeed, after about 6 months of Donnie basically taking care of the ship, flying it, landing it, fueling it, and even finding cargos and plotting full hyperspace runs, her father finally looked over at her after she stuck a particularly difficult landing in a storm at Bespin, and said “You’re ready”. Donnie wasn’t sure what he meant, she’d been doing the job for 6 months, what could she be “ready” for she thought. Her father merely chuckled, as he did when Donnie did something naive, and said “You really think I’m training you to be a freighter pilot, Donnie?”.
She’d have some time to mull that over while they crossed the Galaxy for the annual “Big Drop” the fleets did. This time it was in the Northern part of the Galaxy, on Felucia. The flight there was uneventful. Standard Republic Customs stuff on both sides of the border, boring long hyperspace runs. Donnie asked her father a few times during the first week what he meant, the man just chuckled, and didn’t give anything away. By the time they got to the Fleet, Donnie was downright frustrated with the man. That melted away though in the party atmosphere of the Big Drop.
The young woman tore off, got more drunk that she’d ever been, had a few wild nights with Teraj and a girl named Itara, apparently the woman he was in love with. She bartered and traded for a few parts the ship needed, got a bunch of new tattoos on her legs and hips, and expanded her chest and back pieces to go over her shoulders. She generally had such a good time it should have been illegal. When it was all said and done, she’d made numerous new contacts and friends, had a good deal of sore skin, a hangover, and sore lady bits. All signs of a Grancha Hasa well spent.
It was after the Big Drop, that Donnie was looking in a mirror and realized she didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her. Standing 5’10, and with Lekku that extended to her midback and the beginnings of her distinctive black banding on them, the muscular woman didn’t look like a boy anymore. Granted, she didn’t really have a “figure” yet, but the beginnings of breasts dispelled any notion she was anything aside from female. Then, she turned sideways, and let out a small yelp.
Her butt had orbit. She was convinced of this fact. Apparently all the time she spent on the treadmill and in the exercise equipment had, in addition to making her fairly muscular everywhere, had made her backside huge. Donnie knew she was muscular, but the thing that got to her was how disproportionate it was. The 17 year old thought she looked like one of those Zeltron women, known for their curvaceous physiques. Not that it bothered Doneeda, she just hadn’t really taken the time to bother looking at herself for any real period of time, given how busy she’d been. Whenever something stopped fitting, she just got a bigger size, not really worrying about why it didn’t fit.
Once she got back to the fleet with her father, he immediately set to work getting her trained in a Fighter. The transition from the old freighter Donnie was used to to the razor-sharp Z-95 was galling. The first few flights, they took it easy, the two seat trainer set to a simpler flight regime, so she could get the hang of it’s far faster response times and higher G capabilities. Over time, however, the ship’s abilities were slowly unlocked. The flight software being set to allow more aggressive maneuvering and offering less of a safety margin. Donnie picked it up quickly, and after 6 months was soloing in a Z-95 for the first time with some of the other pilots who were her age.
She wasn’t immediately put on the flightline, being only 17 and still somewhat unskilled in actual combat, they instead flew her against or with the more experienced pilots during training missions. She flew with her father progressively less and less, and with the other pilots more and more, encouraging her to pick up tips and tricks from other people than her father. The teen did, and well too. Despite the fact she was constantly uncomfortable in her ill-fitting flightsuit, Donnie’s progress over the year was astonishing. She was well ahead of her peers, and living up to her family name, being a natural in the cockpit.
She was also living up to her family name in another way, as well. Her voracious “appetite”. Not for food, but ‘recreation”. Donnie was a bit of a slut. Once she’d come back from being “away”, she’d realized that she wasn’t nearly as far “behind” physically as she thought she was. That males ( and a good deal of the women) were into her “look”, and that Donnie herself was actually fairly talented when it came to the horizontal hula. Her success with both sexes was aided by the fact that over the course of the year she’d gone from a 34D to a 36DD, gotten far more of a figure ( basically wider hips ), and was now 5’11. Her lekku ( a big part of being “attractive” to male Twi’leks ) had started coming in in earnest, and were now down to her lower back, the tips darkening up quite a bit and her banding becoming very well defined.
Basically, by the time she went to the next Grancha Hasa, there was no question she was a she. A great deal of people, upon seeing her had a slack jawed reaction, the woman changing so much in a year they were astonished. Part of it was because of her work in the gym, and putting on muscle mass, but part of it was also simply because of how good puberty was being to the girl. The result of all this, her new ability and her new looks, was that at the Grancha Hasa, Donnie was somewhat more popular. Instead of having to chase after males, she was being harassed. Instead of having to pay for drinks, and drugs...and ink in a few cases, she was being offered all three for free.
Obviously, Donnie was overwhelmed. The teenager spent most of the hasa on her back ( or knees…), Got more ink in a 1 week period than she thought possible. The whole thing was an absolute blur of drugs, sex and rock and roll basically. Now, this is typically seen as a sign, along with lots of painful skin and tender lady parts, of a Grancha Hasa well spent. However, Donnie also took away another “memento” from her grancha hasa, also typically seen as a sign of it being well spent and successful.
Upon returning to the fleet, the first little while was totally normal. She went out and flew with the squadron, the now 18 Donnie practicing with them. She traded stories about the Hasa, and “recreated” as normal. After a month or so though, she started having some issues in the morning, waking up groggy and feeling nauseous. Her life being as “fast paced” as it was, she didn’t really have any time to worry about it, and just carried on as best she could, snacking whenever she could because she was perpetually hungry and trying her best to keep the nausea under control.
As the Nausea and indigestion, constant hunger and weight gain rolled into the second month, people started noticing. The usually ( at the time ) jacked and well defined muscle everyone was so familiar with on Donnie being “dulled” by a growing layer of fat. She was rarely seen without a snack, munching away on something whenever she had a spare moment. But, despite what she did, her concentration, or the control she had over her body, the Nausea that came and went was becoming a problem, and culminated with her throwing up in her helmet during a training mission.
Donnie woke up in Sickbay, having passed out in a cold sweat. The Doctor asked her to do the generic things, follow the finger with her eyes, and flashed a light in them to make sure she wasn’t brain damaged or something. He did a few simple checks to make sure she didn’t have any sort of brain damage, before sitting down on the edge of her hospital bed and “leveling” with Donnie. She learned a few things. One, her flight status had been revoked. And Two….
She was about 10 weeks pregnant.
Everything the Doctor said after she wouldn’t remember, her mind melting into a goo as she tried to process the fact that she was having a kid at 18. It wasn’t uncommon, a number of the people she’d grown up with were already on number 2, some even 3. What did bother Donnie was the fact that she was having a kid. It wasn’t that she didn’t like kids, quite the opposite, she’d grown up around tons of them, ranging from babies to tweens, and everything in between. Donnie, like most Boska, actually liked kids quite a lot. It was the fact she wasn’t ready, in her mind. She didn’t have a mate, still lived with her parents, and hadn’t even gone on her Bola Cheesa yet.
Donnie did have some options. She could Abort it, she could put it up for adoption within the fleet, or she could have her family help raise it. The latter option was generally what young, mateless, women took, as the Boska tended to have large families and no shortage of relatives willing to help out. She didn’t immediately decide right then and there, but sort of by default. By not aborting it, and not putting it up for adoption, the “family help” option was the one that would happen.
After she was cleared to leave the medical ward, and given a pack of multi-vitamins, Donnie had to go tell her parents the “news”. As would be expected of any Boska parents, they were thrilled, enthusiastic, and excited, even if they were a little disappointed that she hadn’t chosen a mate. Overall, though, the woman’s parents where extremely good about her situation, her mother thrilled ( at the time, 7 months pregnant herself with Donnie’s half sister ), that she’d be having grandchildren. Donnie wasn’t initially as enthusiastic, but over the course of her pregnancy, warmed up to the idea.
As the woman’s “state” progressed, Donnie didn’t give up her recreation. Her doc had told her that there wasn’t anything wrong with having “fun” during pregnancy, just to avoid the drugs and alcohol, which she did. That being said, as she got bigger, it did become more difficult to find partners to recreate with, most simply not being into the “look”, and some not wanting to have to work around her belly. Donnie didn’t care, and redoubled her efforts as her pregnancy progressed, insisting that she was going to have as much fun as possible before she had to take on the responsibility of being a parent.
That responsibility became hers a little after 9 months after the Grancha Hasa, days before her own 19th birthday, in a very crowded delivery room. It’s pretty well known among the Boska that roughly half of the population has a birthday in a 2 week period about 38-40 weeks after the traditional week the Grancha Hasa is held. Nearly everybody Donnie knew had a birthday in that period, her parents, and herself included.
Typical to the Boska, Donnie had a short labor and an easy, uncomplicated birth with very little pain. The Boska believed in taking every step to ensure a natural delivery, as it was safer for the mother and the child, only intervening if it was absolutely necessary. Which, in Donnie’s case, it wasn’t. She was nervous going into the process, but her body and instincts took over and afterwards her opinion of having a kid was more “being huge and moody for 9 months is inconvenient” than “I’m worried about pushing the thing out.”
The result of her congress all those months prior was Donnie’s son, Enarin. He was obviously related to her, with a similar skintone, and eye colour. Facially he looked like the spitting image of her, even as an infant. As Enarin would grow, it’d become obvious that while he physically resembled his mother, the boy took after others personality wise.
The next few years went by very quickly, Donnie working her ass off ( literally, she’d ballooned up quite a bit because of Enarin ), and playing “catch up” in her skills in the cockpit. The Boska, having to keep abreast of the constantly changing galactic borders due to the Clone Wars, were constantly on the move. That necessitated an “all hands on deck” approach to things, and Donnie’s mat leave consisted of a week to get herself fitted for a new flightsuit. Being now 6’0 tall, and with a truly insane bust due to her feeding of Enarin, Donnie didn’t fit into any of the ‘stock” ones they had available.
The Clone Wars produced a number of opportunities for the Boska to hit the Hutts. Either because of the Hutts fighting the CIS and dropping their guard, or because of Republic assistance in the form of pulling away Hutt forces for ops, the Boska rescued more slaves in three years than they had in the prior 30. In addition to this, there was a development of a more “personal” nature for Donnie, coming mere weeks before the end of the Clone Wars, in the form of the woman who’d become the love of her life and eventually Mate, Var.
Var came into Donnie’s life the same way numerous other “strays” had, by the Boska rescuing them from a dangerous/bad situation and offering them a place to stay. The difference, however, was that Donnie rescued Var, and that Var wasn’t any average Stray. She was a force user, on the run from the Jedi. Donnie, at the time, wasn’t sure if it was her desire to do something to undermine the Jedi, or the pants Var was wearing, but she felt compelled to help the woman, and did.
Both of them remember that day on Garqi when they met, Donnie recognizing Var’s tattoos, marking her as a friend, and Var recognizing Doneeda’s Boska markings. The awkward conversation in the bar. The result was a very enjoyable night, fueled by Donnie’s desire ( initally.. ) to simply sleep with the woman, and Var’s desire to end her dry spell. Eventually Donnie would realize she had feelings far more complicated than just simply physical lust for Var, and that she couldn’t offer her everything she needed. Donnie not being the type ( generally. ) to bother with fancy dresses and Caviar.
As the two progressed in their relationship, Donnie found out about Var’s Forcie nature, but she’d waited to tell Var about Enarin, so Donnie couldn’t really hold it against her. After about a year or so, some gentle persuasion, and occasional outright poking and pushing, Donnie managed to get Var to finally go on dates with the “high-class” men she needed in her life. It didn’t change how Donnie and Var felt about each other, the pair growing closer by the day. What it did do was allow Var to get what she needed, and while doing that, let Donnie get the dirty, lekku pulling, ass slapping, on the pool table after a night of drinking moonshine with a pilot, FUCKING she needed.
That’s not to say the pair didn’t satisfy one and other immensely, both in bed, and otherwise. They wouldn’t have stayed with each other had there not been a mutual attraction and ability to “please”. Donnie and Var’s polyamorous nature wasn’t out of boredom with the other, it was out of trust and maturity, the pair still working to keep the romance and “interest” in their relationship, but understanding that there were certain things Doneeda couldn’t do for Var, and certain things Var couldn’t do for Doneeda. They still loved each other deeply, and it was because of that they were able to trust one and other enough to maintain their arrangement.
An arrangement that, a year or so after Var started doing her thing, resulted in another child being brought into their lives. A few months after Var had a particularly romantic date with a very well spoken, high class, Nautolan, she found out she was pregnant. Donnie was stunned. Not because of anything except the fact that she thought Twi’leks were compatible with Twi’leks. The Ships’s Surgeon explained to them both that Nautolians and Twi’leks were genetic cousins, and it was possible for them to produce offspring, as Var had found out.
During this period, Donnie and Var became a recognized couple in the Boska. This was partially due to the fact that they’d been together so long and were having a child together, but also so that Var’s child could benefit from Donnie’s status with the Boska. Var decided to name her Niriaba’Soaknadaa. Var’s family name, Aba was mixed into Niri’s first name, and due to their “space married” status, Donnie’s family name gave Niri her status. In addition to this, the pair, both having fairly unwieldy and “ethnic” names tended to clip theirs, so they figured they might as well clip Niriaba’s down to Niri as well.
At a late stage in the pregnancy, and after much debate, Var landed on using the colour Green for Niri’s tattooing. It fit with her views of honesty and courage she hoped Niri to embody, and was a favourite of the pilots. Donnie hoped, wished, in fact, that Niri would become one, Enarin even that early on showing signs he was definitely not cut out for it. She also had pretty high hopes for Niri as the girl would, by virtue of her birth, be the “next in line” for head of the Oaknadaa family, the expectation being she’d be a first rate pilot at very least.
Donnie helped the woman through the ordeal, keeping her in high spirits while she was pregnant and being there for ( and helping a lot with ) the definitely not-boska style birth. Var not possessing the “hips you could fly a freighter through” that most Boska women did. As such it was a considerably longer, and louder, experience that Doneeda did her best to help Var through. All 36 hours of it. Needless to say, Var was far more careful about contraceptives moving forward.
Due to Var’s utter lack of knowledge about what to do with a baby, and Donnie’s experience ( from both raising Enarin and being a Boska ), she took a very active role in Niri’s upbringing. As far as Doneeda’s concerned, Niri’s her kid as much as she is Var’s. Donnie doesn't care she’s mixed race, the woman loves her little tentacle baby the same as Enarin, and would do anything for her, seeing her as her own Daughter.
In addition to this, to help Var out with Niri, Donnie took a round of drugs that got her milk flowing again. This had the benefit of allowing her to feed the baby. Letting Var get some much needed rest, the pair taking shifts feeding the infant. Donnie figured her boobs might as well do something in addition to looking pretty. The side effect of the drugs, however, was the fact that they caused Donnie to put on about 35 lbs. This resulted in her no longer looking like she was carved out of something and more like a freakishly large breasted sex goddess of some form, losing most of her muscle definition in her quest to help her mate and newly minted Daughter.
The next few years flew by, with two young children underfoot, and Donnie’s increased responsibility due to the retirement of the head of her family, finding time to do anything aside from work and sleep was a real chore. In the rare instances where Donnie and Var managed to get away from it all, typically on a procurement mission in the old YT-2000 Donnie owned, the pair tended to make the best use of their time, enjoying each other's company, doing their “date” thing, generally finding ways to relax. Everything was going swimmingly until a fateful event in 11bby, at Abregado-Rae, changed their and every Miki Boska’s life forever.
At the yearly meet up of the Miki Boska, their “Grand Drop”, or Grancha Hasa, towards the end, on the idyllic world of Abregado-Rae, the Empire saw an opportunity it simply couldn’t pass up. The Imperials showed up with a force of 3 ISD’s and thousands of troops, and simply started arresting Boska, and shooting those who resisted. Due to Var’s force sensitivity, and Donnie’s quick thinking, the pair managed to escape and meet up with the rest of the Boska who’s fled. Out of the nearly 350,000 that lived in the fleet, a mere 38,000 managed to escape. In one day the Empre had managed to take out 90% of the Boska’s population.
Still reeling from this, the fleet quickly reformed outside of Imperial space. Realizing they needed to rid themselves of the centuries old ships they had, and get leaner and faster, a number were ditched while they ran. The first of this “new breed” of ships was a Munificent class frigate they picked up for a song. It’d had it’s heavier weaponry stripped, but was still more capable than anything in the fleet at the time, and formed the backbone of it’s fighting force.
Due to the leadership of the Boska being decimated, the Council of 11 relied far more heavily on the 22 than they had in the past, requiring them to basically run the government. Some of those who’d ascended to positions on the Council being second or third cousins of those who’d been there prior, and/or very, very young. The leader of the O’ta family, the one Donnie’s was War Guard too, was a mere 16 years old when he took leadership of the O’ta family. This basically meant that Donnie had gone, overnight from “some” responsibility to “a considerable amount”. Her family was the First Spear to the O’tas and as such, she was directly in charge of their fighting force. A fighting force that was in disarray.
This was all in addition to her, now far more important, role as a procurer. There was now a considerably higher amount of pressure on Donnie and Var to get useful “things” for the fleet. Literally everything from food to toilet paper was in short supply, and it was down to the very few remaining procurers to try to source it as quickly as they could. All this in addition to trying to find new ships to replenish their nearly non-existent fighting force.
The result was that Donnie and Var found themselves away from the fleet far more and for far longer than they’d typically been in the past. This was a double-edged sword, as it gave them considerably more time together, minus the rugrats, but it also meant that they didn’t get to spend as much time as they, or at least Donnie wanted too. The woman legitimately missed Niri and Enarin, and it stressed her out a ton. Enough that, during a supply run, when Var was off on a date, Donnie made a fairly stupid decision that came and bit her in the ass about 6 months later.
Basically, Donnie made a porno with a Thakwaash in their bedroom on the ship. It went fairly unknown for a few months, but, Var managed to find out. She’d apparently seen the video out in the fleet and came home and was ready to kill Donnie. The result was that Donnie was banished to the couch for “the rest of her ever.”. Not a good situation, but the woman had a plan.
Donnie’s brother, Vax, was getting “space married” to his long time flame. As such, they had the option to go on a holiday together. Now, Vax didn’t have a ship, as his got destroyed during the Imperial assault on Abregado-Rae, so Donnie offered to sell him the YT-2000 she owned. He agreed, and Donnie’s plan went into action. She used her influence to move all of her and Var’s stuff off the ship, then, using the money she’d gotten from the sale of the 2000 and ALL of her savings, bought a 10 or so year old YT-2400, dubbed “snowball”.
Moving quickly and pulling more strings than she probably should have, Donnie got the ship outfitted with a Jacuzzi and then docked into the same position as the old YT-2000 they’d been living in up till then. With a quick comm to Var, Donnie was able to ( with a certain amount of fanfare ) unveil their new living space. Complete with the Jacuzzi Var’d been bugging her about and, the most important part as Donnie said, new sheets.
The result was successful. Var let Donnie back “in”, on the condition she never tape one of her sexcapades ever again. Enarin and Niri were thrilled with their larger living space, no longer being cramped into small rooms in the upper deck of a YT-2000, and each having their own, full sized room, with windows to boot. Donnie liked it because of it’s Class 1 hyper drive and considerably stronger shielding and armor plating, making her feel safer taking the family around in it if they needed too, and Var liked it because it had a Jacuzzi, and she could put more space between herself and Tater, Donnie’s borderline retarded R5 unit.
As before, the next few years went by fast. The fleet constantly rebuilding and acquiring and outfitting 10 CR-70 ships, and 5 CR-90 corvettes for defense. Their production up and running, with Donnie and the other Military leader’s help, they had a fighter wing and were able to defend themselves rather well, using the Muni’s extremely good sensors to stay one step ahead of the Imperials, playing a large scale game of cat and mouse throughout the outer rim. During this turbulent time, the Boska, directed by the 22 ( the leaders of the families who advised the ruling 11 ), agreed to cease their overt aggression against the hutts and focus on survival instead. They favoured small-scale integration of rescued Boska and slaves, accepting members from their extensive and largely untouched Diaspora across the galaxy who wanted to help.
Procurement teams, such as Donnie and Var, were now tasked with also trying to find captured Boska or rescue slaves if they could, in addition to their standard duties. It was made clear to them not to stray from their primary mission, and not to put the fleet in danger to rescue slaves, as the Fleets ability to defend itself, even with it’s extra ships, was still very weak.
Presently, Donnie is a sitting member of the Council of 22 and and advisor to the O’ta leadership on military members. She’s also one of ( if not the ) highest ranked Procurer in the fleet and is sort of the de facto leader of that sub group. She’s also still doing the “mom” thing with Enarin and Niri, raising them the best she can under the circumstances.
Miscellaneous Crap:
