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may-be-a-plant · 10 months ago

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Ezra's Gamble Notes Pt.1

Friends, I was not expecting the book 'Ezra's Gamble' to be such a goldmine of lore. 😭 I'm gonna need to talk about this in multiple posts.

What I've got so far:

-----SPOILERS------

First of all, the foreword: "For Alan Harris, who is a much nicer fellow than Bossk." Harris was Bossk's actor. ❤

The book takes place pre-Spark of Rebellion

We literally start the book with Ezra at the Lothal spaceport pickpocketing and finessing people out of their valuables.

He walks up to a rich-looking Chagrian wearing an Imperial pin and being followed by four blue Twi'leks and manages to sell him 5 tickets for a private booth at a gladiatorial cage match (that the Chagrian is implied to want to keep secret). Ezra finesses him out of 700 credits, then also steals his Imperial pin, his ring, wrist-comm and half his money pouch.

He winks at one of the Twi'leks and all of them giggle, one of them winks back at him. (He's 14)

He meets up with a Xexto named Ferpil Wallaway who is actually the one who taught Ezra how to steal!!

The cage-match ticket money gets sent to the commissioner, then Ferpil pays Ezra for his loot at the Pawn-shop he owns on Lothal.

Ezra gets flagged down by a red-haired friend (also 14) named Moreena Krai. Her family is leaving Lothal because Imperials condemned their farm and took it from them.

Y'all I was not ready when she said she was moving to Alderaan. 😭🥺

Moreena starts to get sad about Ezra being alone, Ezra cuts her off and says "Don't ever feel sad for me. I've always done just fine on my own, and I always will." BOY TELL THAT TO HERA. 💚

He briefly wonders if he'll ever get to steal a TIE pilot helmet. (Spoilers, he does lol)

Lore for Bossk: his ship 'Hound's Tooth' is a modified Corellian Engineering Corporation YV-666 freighter. He's employed by the Bounty Hunter Guild and his Imperial Peace-keeping Certificate number is #55946112.

Bossk was headed to Lothal searching for a Dug named Gronson "Shifty" Takkaro who was wanted for jumping bail in the Ahakista System.

Bossk picked up the bounty from the Imperial Enforcement DataCore.

Bossk's ship was scanned by the Imperial Spaceport and the official talking to him immediately transferred his call to ISB HQ. (He was on hold for 30 seconds.)

ISB Lieutenant Herdringer talks to him and tries to send Stormtroopers to arrest Shifty rather than let Bossk collect.

Bossk counters saying Herdringer would be interfering with the authorized acquisition of a government bounty. Herdringer realizes that would be bad for him.

Herdringer actually wants Bossk to not use firepower as Shifty is in a civilian sector. Bossk says okay, but still brings his Mortar gun. Bossk gets escorted to the spaceport by TIE fighters which Bossk thinks is WAY too conspicuous.

This random academy propaganda played on a speaker at the spaceport though: "You too can be a part of the Imperial family! Don't just dream about applying for the Academy, make it come true! You can find a career in space: Exploration, Starfleet, or Merchant Service. Choose from Navigation, Engineering, Space Medicine, Contact/Liason, and more! If you have the right stuff to take on the universe, and standardized examination scores that meet the requirements, dispatch your application to the Academy Screening Office, care of the Commandant (Aresko), and join the ranks of the proud!" ---(I wonder how Kallus felt about hearing that kind of stuff, I'm assuming his office was soundproofed, but he did still technically work in the same building as the school, and seemed used to having things delivered to him by cadets, im sure he heard it occasionally.)

Ezra knew what a Trandoshan was on sight. He tried sneaking up on Bossk's ship, but Bossk snuck up on him first.

Bossk appeared to be avoiding his stormtrooper escort and asked Ezra (who actually gave his real name!) Where the tavern he was looking for was.

He's very suspicious of Ezra and warns him against snooping in his ship and notices his weapon right away. "An energy slinghot. Cute."

Ezra tries to finagle 100 credits out of Bossk for information. Bossk says he doesn't have time to haggle and will give him 1000 credits for help. Ezra demands 500 up front and Bossk pays him. He also politely gives Ezra his name.

He only refers to Ezra as "Shorty" and insists that "to you, its MR. Bossk" lol.

--------

Will continue to take notes, this is fun!!

#ezra's gamble #ezra bridger #Bossk #lothal #star wars rebels #star wars #book #sw rebels #swr

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colleybrifanfics · 7 months ago

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Imagine a divergent universe, where Cassian Andor never met two bullies on Morlana 1.

He’s not the man he should be.

Jyn Erso, dedicated Rebel in the face of an impossible fight with a triumphant Empire, comes to Ferrix one morning to buy stolen parts. Cassian is very much… his old self.

NSFW below the cut. Smut with a distinctly wistful flavour.

Ferrix, Imperial Era 24

As the glow of dawn makes a rare appearance low on the horizon a flock of five steelpeckers flap over, low and squawking, heading from the main salyards to their daytime roosting sites in the surrounding hills. He tenses a little, instinctively, and hurries under the awning at Gueti’s. One of these birds had shat on him once, and clothes were basically unsalvageable after that. He isn’t ready to give up on this coat yet, not after all these years.

He doesn’t go off-world much these days as the risks are so high, but he does remember a few planets with … nicer birds. Birds that made pleasant noises to greet the day, a chorus of joy at a new beginning rather those guttural cries that put in mind a Corellian hound being throttled. He can't remember the morning songs of the birds of Kenari, though, and supposes he never really noticed.

He selects an outdoor table with a nearby heater, greets Gueti and orders caf and pistachio cake. Then, oh so casually, he places a little iron bowl on the table and pulls out the datapad from his large bag. The Time Grappler marks Start of Day but his, and Gueti’s, and his buyer’s (whoever they may be) has already started.

So. Something to read while he waits.

How many have died recently?

He rarely dwells on the news these days. It’s so hard to know what is the truth anymore. But illicit stations, broadcasting from ships flying under flags of convenience or from all-out pirate vessels, still pop up every few months before being shut down, and manage sometimes to broadcast text updates too. His datapad is ancient and he can’t afford the latest software update, but it doesn’t matter - these guys use old tech and the ‘dark’ holonet, whatever that is. He still likes old tech. He stares at the silently unfolding letters, telling the same familiar story. Another several-billion lives destroyed in a heartbeat. Apparently, a rebel cell had been located on this outer-rim world, a planet he had never even heard of - and that fact didn’t matter one bit because it didn’t exist anymore anyway.

Peace is, according to the official version, being kept. According to the unofficial version, Palpatine is simply wiping out any signs of resistance. He sighs. You think they would have learned their lesson by now, those rebels. How utterly pointless it was to fight back. It’s so much better to live. To eat, to sleep.

He is vaguely thankful, in a passing thought that commonly comes his way, that Ferrix has stayed relatively unscathed all this time. It’s a well-behaved community. Heads down, continuing as they always have to exploit those with money, whatever the design of their flag or logo.

His buyer is late. Still, he doesn’t mind. It means more time to enjoy the small pleasures of an early morning. He lights a cigarette - the iron bowl serving as an ashtray. It’s good cover for its presence, but he wants to smoke anyway. Since giving up the drink, told at last flat-out first by the doctor and then, more convincingly, by Brasso that it would be the death of him if he didn’t, he had felt.. hmm, rebellious … enough to take up another vice. Death-sticks had no appeal even for a risk-taker like him and the last thing he needed was more mental stimulation. Just something to make the days seem… a little more pleasant, in some indefinable way.

“Hello. Is this seat free?” The voice is from behind him and belongs to a human woman, with a clipped Core worlds accent, and obviously she is a small individual as he had not heard her approach over the sounds of the waking town.

He turns and takes her in fully. She is in Pre-Mor uniform, but of course that can mean very little and there’s something about the way she wears it just a bit… too well that makes him immediately positive that she isn’t Pre-Mor. No matter. As long as she has his money, he really doesn’t care.

She’s looking at him very directly, with pale grey-green eyes. She’s attractive. Definitely. He’s probably spending a beat too long looking at her as her eyes now dart quickly to the table - the little iron bowl there - and he realises she’s waiting for confirmation. He gives it with a little wave and she sits. Gueti is over in an instant and she orders caf but nothing to eat.

He sees her eyeing the cigarette. “Would you like one?” he asks.

She grimaces. “No, I hate the smell. Thank you, though.” She says this forcefully enough to compel him to hold the cigarette down and behind his stool so that the fumes don’t bother her. She’s intriguing him already. She doesn’t really look like a rebel. But he is immediately of the belief that that is what she is and wonders if she will realise that he suspects.

Negotiations begin. He’s so used to this now, it’s almost second nature. He's employing a favourite tactic today: try to bump up the price agreed remotely by introducing another unexpected piece as a bonus. The buyer would then sometimes think they were getting a bargain, without the time to research the actual value of said piece. But he knows not to push either the price or the deception too high. He likes repeat customers.

Repeat customers. She is talking now about how the masking transponder he has produced from the bag isn’t the exact model stated in their communications, and he’s telling her that it’s superior. He’s talking on autopilot, practically. A good part of his concentration is leaping ahead twenty minutes or so, to the time when he estimates that they will finish their business in a mutually agreeable way. He is thinking about how he might persuade her to delay her departure.

Because she is very attractive. And the problem with getting repeat customers on Ferrix these days is that … the women who live here all know him. Either directly or by reputation.

Off-worlders were a happier hunting ground these days. With them, he could very often rely on his old methods. Which basically consisted of throwing out the net and seeing if the object of his desire wanted to swim into it. He knew how good he looked, despite the signs of his past indulgences. He didn’t see it as vanity, just as a simple fact - evidenced by the way that the lamest of pickup lines would almost always result in… a pickup. Experimentally, he had even once tried the simple “I’m free if you are...?” - and had scored a pretty much instant success.

He realises soon enough that he should have put a little more thought into this, but then he wasn’t prepared for this particular buyer.

All he can manage, as they stand up, salvaged or stolen parts and credits exchanged, is “Would you like to stay a little longer and…”. He realises his error immediately, as her gaze goes from his face to his hand, where it had been making a vague waving gesture at the dusty street that seemed to suggest that the sentence might finish with ‘…let me show you the sights of Ferrix’, and then back to his face with a dawning expression of incredulous and derisive mirth.

Her laugh is loud enough to draw a glance from Gueti over at the counter.

“That’s actually hilarious. I was warned about you, y’know, by my contact before she gave me the rendezvous details. I thought you were going to be a real Loth-wolf. But this? Is this the best you’ve got?”

Stung but helpless and still hoping, despite these less than auspicious signs, all he can do is smile. Sometimes that would work. In fact, most things would work on off-world women. Again, he really wasn’t used to making much of an effort with them. He wasn’t very good at conversation. Perhaps he should just be frank.

“I just thought.. you might like a little fun. You know. If you want to, we can go…”

“Oh wow, you really don’t know when to stop, do you!” But her smile is now wide and genuine, and he still goes on hoping. He doesn’t mind being humiliated if a payoff may yet come his way.

At this most bizarre but strangely captivating impasse they continue to regard each other levelly. Finally, she tilts her head a little to one side and she subjects the full length of his body to a long, sweeping stare, as if assessing the visual condition of a speeder before deciding whether it is worth a test drive.

(Cont below - NSFW. )

“OK,” she says contemplatively, with a smile that reveals another glimpse of her prominent overbite. It’s… very cute. “Why not?”

He does have a very lovely smile, she thinks. And it had been clear that Caleen had feelings for him, despite the lighthearted warning. An intelligent being, especially a female, can often sense the painful truth behind the outward nonchalance. He was obviously an ex who she still cared about, despite everything.

But besides all that… she knows what she likes, and knows what she wants. Right now, what she wants is this slightly-built man with the unusual accent, the long jawline under a short beard and those big brown eyes that are somehow knowing, cynical and childlike all at once.

He is very, very attractive. And she has plenty of time today.

They attract a few knowing stares on the short walk to his place, but he doesn’t care, and he knows the starers don’t either. He’s gone home with a few Pre-Mor employees before. Some of whom turn a blind eye to his activities for that very reason.

They are upon each other even before the door slides completely shut, and her kisses taste so very good. She allows him to take her all at once and greedily, perhaps sensing that once this initial hunger is sated he will be more measured and considerate of her needs too. Maybe. He can’t think that far ahead. He can barely think at all. All his blood and energy seems to divert to his groin and he feels the familiar but still so delicious burning. He doesn’t even take his clothes off, bar the coat, concentrating on her tight-fitting uniform instead, featuring belt, buttons and zipped trousers that are not hastily shed. Panting, she tries to help him but her fingers get in the way of his, bringing a few snorts of laughter from them both. So she switches to unbelting and unzipping him instead, freeing the cause of that promising bulge that she had noticed from that first sweeping visual inspection. Finally, in frustration, he yanks her trousers and her panties to her mid thighs and she allows herself to be pushed back onto the bed. He follows and is delighted to find her so ready, absolutely sopping, her body belying that slightly demure expression on her face that he has adored for the last - hour?! - since he has met her.

He cradles her face with one hand as he pushes at her and she nips at his fingers with those cute teeth as he enters her fully, trying her out for size.

She breaks off from nibbling and fixes him with a frank gaze. “So,” she says conversationally, “what should I call you?”

He has almost forgotten that they didn’t know each other’s names. And here he is, buried deep and hard inside her. It does seem a little rude. For a second, distracted as he is by his lust he considers giving her his real name. But no, that wasn’t how this worked. “Keef,” he says after a little hesitation.

She smiles, as she knows that’s not his name, but he has answered the question truthfully enough. “Lyra,” she says immediately, before he even thinks to ask. He then vaguely wonders if, like himself, she has chosen the name of a real person of some significance to her life.

He finds himself frozen for a moment, despite the nagging from his nether regions to just get on with it already!. The past, always frighteningly close in moments of emotional vulnerability, lurks just outside his consciousness. Previously, he could drink it away.

“Come on then, Keef”, she growls with sarcastic relish, emphasising the F sound somewhat derisively. “Show me if the man lives up to the notoriety. Fffffuck me, Keefff...” and she blows the imperative and the false name into his lust-anguished face with those two long puffs of fricative breath.

Already thinking ahead to the next course, which might well involve that intriguing mouth of hers, he gets to work as instructed and she matches him, effortlessly.

***

They rest eventually, after over an hour of frenzied and gloriously messy sex. He wonders anew at the human female's ability to just… keep on climaxing, but decides again that he isn’t envious: if pleasure came that easily and frequently to someone like himself he doubts he’d ever do anything else remotely productive. It’s almost too much effort to light a cigarette, but it does really help to enhance the afterglow. She hadn’t seemed to mind the taste of him. It was a high quality tabac.

Very much to his surprise, she asks him for one. “I thought you didn’t,” he says.

“I don’t,” she replies. “Except after sex.”

“And how often is that?”

“I’m not telling you about my personal life.” But she smirks at him as he holds the lighter for her and she puffs the first little drag into his face coquettishly.

She is, quite frankly and once again, adorable. He wishes she could stay longer. Despite his reputation, he really dislikes one-night stands. Or one-day stands: whatever. There’s not enough time to get to know exactly what works for each other. Not enough time for getting to know each other. Just… not enough time.

Yes, there was definitely such a thing, with his relationships, as not enough time. But there was such a thing as too much time as well, of course. Bix knew all about that. Commitment. No matter how many times they tried it again, it seemed that he was never actually willing or able to give her what she really wanted. Perhaps that was sad. They had been so good together, when it worked. She was so good to him, even now. So good for him. Still, she had her life and that idiot of a husband and her cute children - and she seemed to be happy.

Switching his thoughts to the woman here now, as there's never any point in dwelling on the past, he calculates quickly - as he is still mostly as sharp and perceptive as he ever was - that “Lyra” doesn’t actually have sex that often. Or rather, that she doesn’t have regular sex with the same person. There’s something in her manner, her hunger, her eagerness to please him and to please herself that tells him that she is unattached. He feels even more certain now that she is a true-believer Rebel, despite her accent, and that her mere presence here was exceptionally dangerous, to him and possibly to the entirety of Ferrix, commercially valued though it was. No planet was ever, really, safe.

No. Rebels didn’t do long term relationships either, and in that respect he knew she was like him. Rebels put the cause first, always. They didn’t want to risk heartbreak. He snorts a little, cynically. So he does have something in common with them after all, albeit for a completely different reason.

An unpleasant thought threatens to cross his mind then but he quickly dismisses it, distracting himself with a long pull at his cigarette. They are sitting up in bed, the blanket covering them in a surprisingly modest-looking fashion. He thinks anew how nice it is to be sharing a bed when all they are doing are relishing what has been and looking forward to what is to come.

This in-between time… could possibly be his favourite part of a sexual encounter. Well, OK - but...top-three, anyway. Time to digest. Time to contemplate. Time to savour.

They could even be a married couple, he thinks, this silence between them is so comfortable.

She breaks it then, a child with a naughty joke. “Question: do you smoke after sex? Answer: I don’t know, I’ve never looked.” And she giggles.

As is often the case with jokes involving double meanings, as this is still ultimately a foreign language for him, he doesn’t get it.

Frustrated, but amused, she attempts to explain and finally ends up with - “You know - from the friction?!”

He gets it then, but as is always the way the joke is lost by this stage so instead of laughing he quizzically raises his eyebrows and suggests that after their next bout - they should look.

She finds that hysterical, apparently, and he finds her even more adorable.

***

They don’t, literally, smoke but he feels it’s a close run thing. By mutual agreement, they take turns to cool down any possibly overheating areas with their mouths, just in case. And both agree, after a great deal of intensive research, that this process is very counter-productive.

***

They break for a meal in the mid-afternoon. He can see she’s impressed by his store cupboard, packed high with dried ingredients and flavourings from across the galaxy, some of it rare and expensive. While he fries up some leftovers from the conserver, she explores the little house. There’s another bedroom, with a small single bed, in the front and he tells her it was his childhood bedroom.

As he had known she would, she soon spots Bee on his pad. “Your droid. He doesn’t seem to be charging.”

Even now, he can’t help but feel a stab of pain at that, but he keeps his voice light. “I know. He can’t be charged anymore. Eventually, he needed a completely new battery, and they just don’t make them anymore and I couldn't find a secondhand one. I keep him… just in case I do ever find the right model.”

“But his files will be corrupted by then. Have you transferred his memory? You could at least talk with him. Put him in another droid chassis, even.”

“I haven’t.” He concentrates on frying, stirring the vegetables and now adding the beaten fiejuc eggs. He has also just added Durmic spice so knows he can blame that for any dampness in his eyes that might come with his next words. “I made the choice not to. When my mother died, he was inconsolable. He couldn’t understand what death was. I could have had his memory wiped then, I suppose, but … he wouldn’t have been him anymore. His name was Bee. Is. I just … keep him there, in case…”

She has appeared at his side and he realises that while the Durmic might explain his wet eyes it doesn’t disguise the catch in his voice. He glances sideways at her, smiles slightly and sheepishly. He feels her arm around his waist then and her hug is one of comfort rather than desire, and it feels just as good somehow.

And he realises then that this is what he has really missed.

After this moment, and after the shared meal, things are different between them. Different in a good way. He realises later that they had moved forward with the liaison to the same stage that would normally take a week or so in his other casual relationships. There is a tenderness between them now. They talk. On light subjects, but they find common interests. It’s like a kind of cautious dance around the perimeters of each other.

And it’s all so good, and sweet, and delicious and somehow… medicinal. And hot.

It ends, as they had known it must. She needs to take the shuttle ferry out to the commercial port for her evening flight back to - wherever it was.

He wonders, as he watches her retreating form in the fading daylight, if he should call out after her, or tell her his real name. He decides not to. Perhaps she would decide to come again. If she lived that long. He feels a sudden and genuine chill that she will not.

He feels the pain anew then, and something of the old anger. The Empire. They had taken so much. Lives, chances, time.

He even wonders if he should join the Rebels, even at this stage. Belong, in some way, have a purpose, even if it is a short lived one.

Maybe one day. Then again, perhaps not. It is surely better to … live. To eat, to sleep. To do what you want.

He watches her until her retreating figure fades into the failing light.

Steelpeckers are nocturnal. Their dawn comes with the setting of the sun. Day shift; night shift. A flock of five fly over now, low, squawking raucously. Perhaps the same five from that morning - it is impossible to tell. The chimes for End of Day join their chorus as he stands there still, framed in the open doorway, looking, but with nothing to see.

From chapter 2.

#andor #andor fic #cassian andor #andor show #rogue one #star wars andor #rebelcaptain #jyn erso #jyn x cassian #not my main ship #but I did enjoy writing these AUs #canon divergence #alternate universe

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mwolf0epsilon · 1 year ago

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Do you think the SW Sequels Era did anything right? I've seen a lot of backlash in regards to what they did wrong, but I'm genuinely curious to see what some people think were positives ideas to come out of the whole ordeal. (Luke's characterization, Reylo canonicity completely sidelining Finn and Poe, and Disney/Execs overall throwing their POC cast to the wolves when they weren't happy with conditions were decisions that should have never been made in my own opinion btw)

This is one of those topics that might stir up a wasp's nest depending on who you ask, but honestly the Sequels Era as a whole wouldn't be so bad if the executive decisions behind them weren't such a disrespectful trash fire.

But yeah Anon, I getcha. We've all seen people's (rightfully) negative opinions of the Sequels Era and how much squandered potential the trilogy turned out to be. That said I do think there are some positives. Mostly in the form of ideas that DO still have potential so long as they're approached with care and consideration.

With that said, what I think they did right:

The Force Awakens - It's just a straight up good movie that opened the door to a lot of possibilities. Good OST, good cast, interesting alien and creature designs, combined some pretty dark elements that could very easily be explored more deeply by anyone who's interested in sparking a debate about willing conscription vs forced indoctrination and how to tell the two apart, etc. I still consider it a part of mine and @lost-on-kamino 's Forceful Intervention AU Verse because honestly it's a movie that paid excellent homage to both the original and prequels trilogies.

Star Wars Resistance - A lot of people consider it a subpar show, which honestly I don't see. It has so many interesting themes, from privileged kids that want to actually do good instead of sitting pretty while the world burns around them, the dangers of targeted propaganda and how it's specifically used on youths that are dealing with trauma left behind by war, trying to make your way in a galaxy that isn't always friendly but that can offer you community if you know where to look, and more. The cast is fun, the style isn't the worst I've seen in terms of animation, and overall I feel like it's a breath of fresh air to focus on characters that aren't inherently connected to the Force.

Kix Lives - There is absolutely so much potential behind the reveal that Kix was not only frozen in stasis by Dooku, but also found 50 years in the future after everyone he knew and held dear to his heart have been dead and gone for a long while now. The amount of survivor's guilt and trauma would be immeasurable, if not torturous, and I feel like the writers at least owe it to Kix to help him find some legacy his brothers might have left behind. Be it artifacts or even entire lineages they might have been able to start. If not that, then at least show us some of his adventures with the crew of the Meson Martinet.

Barghests - They added a new kind of space doggo that I absolutely love the design of, and want to see in action so badly. Just look at these absolute creatures of all time:

Delightful beasts! Friend shaped! Worthy of as much esteem as the humble Massiff, the zesty Charhound or the beefy Corellian Hound!

And that's about it on my list of things that the Sequels Era did right. If only the rest wasn't an absolute mess... We could have definitely had something really good to work with.

Ah well... Nothing like rolling up the proverbial sleeves and getting to work exploring all the wasted potential yourselves!

#star wars #star wars sequel trilogy #star wars the force awakens #star wars resistance #clone medic kix #creature design #star wars barghest

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stagbeetleboy · 1 year ago

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I have a dog name Padmé but she’s mostly known as Madmé bc uh…she’s a jack russell so she does jack russell things.

Anyway I will draw her as a corellian hound. This thing.

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tiredassmage · 2 years ago

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falling asleep on the other’s shoulder for whatever pairing you’re feeling

Still sitting on a few of these, I promise! The end of the semester is just kickin' my butt. xD

Time to release some Dash x Leo content into the wild, methinks. 👀

[touch prompts]

x-x-x-x-x-x-

“Departures for Coruscant are currently operating on a three standard hours delay. We apologize for any inconvenience. Please see the nearest departures assistant for further details.”

Leo groaned as he shifted in the narrow, hard bench seat beside him, propping a shoulder into the unforgiving seatback. “I’m gonna have that engraved in my skull by the time we get out of here,” he grumbled.

Dash frowned, gaze drifting over the roving crowds of dock workers, merchants, and soldiers idling through the spaceport. “I’m going to shoot the next droid that tries to apologize,” he mumbled.

Leo craned his neck to eye his companion. “Don’ start that,” he said. “Your little security friends already loused me once for lookin’ at ‘em funny. We’ll be here even longer then.”

Dash rolled his eyes and sighed as he leaned back. “Suppose you’re right.” Sometimes it was a real shame they had to go through official Republic channels constantly for deployments. This all wouldn’t be a problem if they could just haul jets. “How’s your ship? I’m thinking we should’ve just taken it.”

“Better still be where I docked,” he said. “That Rodian bastard looked shiftier than a loanshark.”

“Why’d we take the shuttles again?”

“‘Cause you’re on leave and I am allergic to Republic Customs, remember?” Leo shrugged one shoulder. “Fuck, they prattle more than the bloody theater junkies back ‘ome, y’know?”

Dash rolled his eyes fondly with a puffed breath of amusement. “Alright, alright, I get it. Still, what’s the point of being friends with a starship captain if I can’t get a few free rides, huh?”

Leo stuck his tongue out. “My knight in shining armor gonna protect me when your fellow hounds start sniffin’ ‘round tryna steal my whiskey, then?” His eyes narrowed with the beginnings of a smirk, as if he was about to win whatever ‘argument’ he was playing at.

Dash shook his head, eyes making for the list of departures on a screen across the room - covered in far too much orange and red for delays for his taste. But it beat acknowledging the way a bit of warmth rose to his cheeks.

Leo knew he’d do a hell of a lot for him. But it was never a favor that went unpaid.

The smuggler puffed out a chuckle behind him. Smug bastard. Guess it took one to know one.

“You alright, man?” Dash asked rather than spin wheels any further, fixing him in a pointed stare. “You’re the one that looks like you’ve been steamed over by a Corellian tram.”

Leo waved a hand with another grunt. “‘M fine,” he muttered as he rubbed at his left eye - easier to not scrape the cybernetics that crossed the scarring on the right side of his face that way.

His eyes were a deeper blue than most horizons he’d seen.

“Take it easy, why don’t you?” he suggested. He tugged on the other’s shoulder. “C’mon,” he coaxed when he groaned stubbornly. “Look, it’s not like we’re goin’ anywhere fast and I’m not listening to you gripe later when you can’t sleep on the shuttle because it’s too crowded.”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you would,” he muttered as he relented, scooting back to prop against Dash’s shoulder and kicking a leg out across the remaining seats.

They both ignored a few disgruntled looks from some passerby.

“Yeah,” Dash sighed as his arm settled around his shoulders, “I wouldn’t have much of a choice though, would I?”

A smile slipped across his lips even as his eyes closed. “Suppose so.” Dash’s shoulder was exponentially more comfortable without all of that stupid Republic armor on. Guess it kept him alive though.

And he was a helluva lot better alive than anything else.

Dash wasn’t waiting long before Leo was out cold. A smile flickered faintly across his lips as he shook his head. Idly, he tucked a stray lock of bangs back behind his ear. Idiot had a terrible semblance of a sleep schedule at the best of times, let alone when he decided to move gravity itself to put himself in the same sector when Dash got leave from service.

That was just the kind of shit you did for your best friends though, right?

#answered #dot words #swtor fanfic #swtor fanfiction #ch: leo ashold #ch: dash felaeon #dash felaeon x leo ashold #touch prompts #friends ocs #they own my actual entire wholeass heart #swtor trooper #swtor smuggler

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