#corellian rebellion

[b-radley66]

WIP - Lament: The Aerie

A little thing I’m working on that will probably appear months from now. All the stuff with the Willow series, encouraged me to write some more Enfys Nest, Jade’s sister in Chaos and from another universe, a year or so before Solo.

As always, #save willow. Enjoy!

Wide-eyed

Enfys follows Pags to the small chamber that Weazel had pointed to. There are three couches along the walls; they choose the one opposite the door. Enfys pulls out a small card she had been given and inserts it into a slot in a table nearest to where she has sat and buckled in. 

She looks at Pags before inserting the card all the way in. Pags takes a deep breath and nods. Enfys finishes inserting the card. There is a pause, then her stomach drops as the lift car starts to move downward. For a moment there is darkness, then the transparisteel windows change their tint. 

Beside her, Enfys feels Pags draw in a deep breath at what they see. The expanse of the planet, with the backdrop of tiny lights in a vast velvet curtain shows through the windows of the car, as well as the maglev tube that runs all the way down to the surface. 

Pags pulls out a datapad and punches in a sequence of buttons. She stares at the ‘pad, then looks up at Enfys. She gives a brief nod at the results. 

“So what are we doing?” Enfys asks.

“Sitting on our asses in the vastness of space, with only a few centimeters between us and eternity?” Pags replies, her voice clearly unsure. 

“Not too much different, really, than jumping on an unfamiliar speederbike, drunk, and taking off after an armed freighter,” Enfy replies, her voice as dry as the desert world that feat had occurred on.

“I knew what I was doing,” Pags protests sharply. 

“Obviously,” Enfys retorts. 

“Asshole,” Pags ends the conversation with. 

“Takes one to know one, Lowest.” 

Enfys is quiet for a moment, then reaches out and takes Pags’ hand gently. Pags turns to her and nods, smiling for a couple of seconds. She turns back to look out at the view. Enfys sees her face darken as her eyes fall on something. She turns to focus on that something. 

An Imperial star destroyer, moving slowly and stately towards an orbital graving dock. Enfys squeezes Pags hand and says, “I’m here with you, Pags.”

Pags nods and turns away. Before she does, a slight smile comes over her face as their view shows one deactivated engine of the three main ones; the damage to it is apparent from the burn marks, as well as the fact it is exposed downward at an angle from the rest of the ship. 

The datapad beeps. Pags pushes a button and smiles as a hooded figure comes up over the device, after a couple of seconds of processing. Enfys notices that Fulcrum doesn’t wear her masker; her true face—or at least what Enfys knows as her true face—breaks into a wide smile. 

“Hello my babies,” Fulcrum, or Jana Roshti as at least Enfys knows her, says. “It’s great to see you both.”

“You, too,” Enfys and Pags say at the same time. They look sheepishly at each other, then turn to see Fulcrum’s Smirk. She grows serious after a couple of breaths. “Ina asked me to call you, Chieftain,” she says, using Meglann’s codename. “I’m sorry about your mother. She was a powerful woman. She also loved you dearly.”

Enfys feels her eyes tickle, as she thought she had finally move past whenever her mother was mentioned. Pags takes her hand in her other one as well. 

“I guess that jet-jockey is trying to get you to talk me out of this whole thing.”

Fulcrum’s eyes gaze at her. Enfys turns away slightly, to break the gaze of those powerful blue eyes. “No, dear,” she says. “She respects your choice. I just called to say that I know this path you’re on. It can lead to even more pain, if you let it consume you.” The Smirk returns. “Though I would never say it to them, you’ve got some other powerful women who are there to help you. They’ll have your back. And Ina cares deeply about you.” She looks at Pags. “I think this one might, as well.”

“Meh,” Pags says. 

Enfys rolls her eyes. Jana looks away from the pickup and nods. “Gotta run. Love you both.” As the holo fades, she adds, “Don’t let the Dragon intimidate you. He respects strength, even though he might be a cantankerous asshole about it.”

The lift slows. Enfys realizes they had passed through atmosphere into the dark of the night. She barely has time to register the high, shining buildings, before the car passes to the inside of an old, stately building. They both get up and exit the car. A young woman with skin the same hue as Enfys’ nods and points towards an exit. 

A landspeeder waits there, the rear door open. Enfys looks at Pags, then gets in. She stops short as she sits and sees the older human male sitting opposite them. He looks at them with piercing blue eyes set in craggy features. She half expects him to stick his tongue out like his nickname suggests and draw it back in. 

After a moment or two, he reaches over and holds his hand out. “I’m Bel Iblis,” he says in a voice with a mixture of accents, not the least is an Outer Rim drawl mixed with a Corellian. “I understand you want to join my sons and daughters of chaos.”

She doesn’t say anything, but can feel Pags grinning at her discomfiture. She steels herself and says. “If they’re worth my time, old man. And if you are.”

Enfys wonders if she is going to dissolve into a pile of ash from the look he gives, while Pags sits next to the pile laughing like a hellhound on the scent.

After a moment or two of making her squirm, the look in his eyes soften with a broad grin. “You’ll do, Chieftain. You’ll do.”

She still doesn’t relax, though. 

“What you and those other ingrates are planning, will require some subtlety—probably a bit more than you’re used to.” He looks at Pags. “I think Tionn, the matriarch of the Sal-Solo faction will be impressed by your title, your Lowest. You might work on that angle. Princess Intense, here, might work on her whelp, Thrackan. Hammer already might have an in with him as well, on Jadenia through Fulcrum’s strip joint.” He stops, growing thoughtful. 

Enfys and Pags look at one another, wondering how he knows all three of their nicknames for each other, mostly coming from Meglann—Hammer. 

He looks up. “How do y’all feel about boloball?” 

[2stepadmiral]

Something I love about Luke, Leia, and Han is that before the Skywalker twins reached their mid twenties, the trio shared about three braincells.

I mean, before the Death Star, Leia and Han probably had a respectable amount each (Leia needed to be smart as an up and coming Rebellion leader and Han definitely was clever as a smuggler and conman), but after that first argument in the detention hall in the middle of a desperate firefight that culminated in a dive into the trash compactor, some cosmic alignment of their inner natures mixed with the will of the Force resulted in both of them being brought down to Luke’s level.

Now, over the years, they all became much smarter and better at working together, but right from the death star onwards for the first few years, they shared about three brain cells. Individually, each of the three were in possession of maybe one at all times, and were decently competent on their own. Luke was a great pilot and field commander, Leia was a fine strategist and mission planner and inspirational leader, and Han, of course, was a very competent smooth talker and mechanic, as well as a brilliant pilot. But put them together in a room, or on a mission together, and usually one of them is going to end up with all three brain cells while the others are up on their shit.

Luke usually ends up with the brain cells when Han and Leia are bickering. The slightest thing sets them off, and suddenly Luke is the voice of reason, which she is very much not used to being.

“I thought you said this was a shortcut, not the front doorstep to an Imperial station for the sector.”

“Hey, I’ve slipped through this way a dozen times before, and never had any trouble. You were supposed to be monitoring the base.”

“Oh, sure, captain, blame me for you forgetting there is an imperial outpost over here.”

“ < exasperated sigh> Alright, Chewie, let’s power up the guns, and hope that these two don’t crash into a Star Destroyer.”

When Leia has all three, it’s usually because Han is on some reckless Corellian daredevil kick, and Luke is in adventure crazed teenager living his dream mode and is too focused on his x-wing or his squadron to see the big picture. Both mindsets are often at least indirectly because of the influence of Wedge Antilles and Tycho Celchu.

“Luke, stop fiddling with your X-wing, we have a scouting mission.

“One second, I’ve almost got the inertial dampeners just where I need them. Wedge and I were talking, and I think if we have these in sync during our next mission, we should be able to reduce drag by 1.56%.”

“You can finish when we get back.”

“ Wait, we’re not taking Rogue Squadron?”

“<sigh> what part of scouting mission did you miss? and where is Han?”

“I think he’s with Wedge and Tycho.“

“Oh no. What laser brain stunt did they dare him to try this time?“

“…Well, they might’ve said something about flying the falcon through the gap of a communication tower on an Imperial II Star Destroyer?”

“Kriffing Corellians. And you didn’t think to order Wedge and Tycho to stay away from Han?”

“…Han is good for squadron morale.”

“<sigh>”

And on the disturbingly frequent occasions when Han is in possession of the brain cells, it is, without fail, because Leia is in full devotion to the cause of the rebellion mode, and Luke is in strange-mystic-Jedi-shit-is-calling-me-and-I-must-answer-the-call mode.

“Hey, princess, are you still on that Agamar campaign?”

“The people of Agamar need our help, Han. I need to figure out a way to neutralize these Golan batteries.”

“Um, sure, OK, but we’re currently on a completely different mission, and I kind of need you to be ready to man the guns when we get there.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine when we get to Ord Mantell.”

“Ord Mantell? Uh, this is a mission to Taris.”

“What? oh, you’re right, sorry. I’ve just planned so many of our next few missions, I kind of forgot which one we’re on.”

“… When’s the last time you ate?”

“I’ll eat once I figured out how to bring down these Golan shields.”

“…Hey, Luke? Any chance you could talk her worshipfulness into having some rations? …Kid?”

“ what? oh, sorry, Han, I was reading this account on spirituality by Plo Koon, and I thought I might’ve heard Ben’s voice coming from the engine room.”

“…Ben Kenobi is dead, Luke.”

“I know, Han, but sometimes, I can hear his voice through the Force, guiding me, helping me. I’ve been trying to research why and have been reading these journals Ben had in his home on Tatooine, and…”

“Kid, when’s the last time you ate anything?”

“… now that you mention it, I’m not sure.”

“…”

Moments like these are frequent until maybe Hoth, and after Endor, these moments become very occasional and much more casual as the trio becomes closer and more accustomed to each other’s quirks.

“I thought you fixed the deflector oscillator before we left!”

“I did! Don’t blame me if the Alliance stuck me with substandard parts.”

“Save it for later, you two, or you’d better let me and Chewie take over while you sort it out. I have a Star Destroyers coming up on our bow, and Zsinj would love to hear that the Falcon was shot down.”

“Fair point, kid. We’ll discuss this later, princess.”

“Fine by me. I’ll try and get those shields dialed in.”

Or,

“Luke, I need you to come with us. I’m meeting with the Queen of Naboo, and I need you as an escort.”

“Sure, Leia. Let me just finish these adjustments and I’ll be ready to fly. Oh, no X-wing?”

“Not this time. Have you seen Han?”

“I think that he went to help Wedge and Tycho perform reflex tests on the new rogue squadron recruits. They should be down at the gorge.”

“With speed bikes, I presume?”

“I think so, but Han told me to tell you he would be careful. And wear a helmet.”

“Well, I guess that’s something.”

Or,

“Han, give me my data pad, I need to prepare for the meeting with the delegation from Ryloth.”

“The Twi’lek research can wait until you finish your supper, Leia. It’s in the gallery, I made plenty, and don’t come back until you’ve had at least two portions. You need to keep your strength up while you’re helping to build the New Republic. Mon Mothma can’t expect you to do everything without even having a proper meal every now and again.”

“… Can I continue while I eat?”

“Not until you’ve had at least one full plate. <sound of grabbing a holocron> You too, kid. You need to stop making me be the responsible one around here.”

“Han, you know that I can just grab that back from you with the Force?”

“Yeah, and what kind of message would that send to the galaxy about the new Jedi? They go around stealing holocrons instead of just eating their dinner like a normal person? Go on, have some food. I made some Karkan ribenes with tomo-spice.”

And right around the time they start figuring this dynamic out, they start to notice that Chewie is less irritated with the three of them. Little do they know, because, again, three brain cells shared between the three of them, that Chewbacca has been actively trying to loan them any of the hundreds of brain cells he’s accumulated over the course of his 200 year long Wookie life and has been furious with how unresponsive to his wisdom they have been.

[pedrito-friskito]

cassian andor + smut prompt #10

i am a whore <3

nonnie if you're a whore I'm a whore 🤍

you called - cassian andor x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k (this one got away from me can you tell?)

warnings: unprotected p-in-v, brief oral (f receiving), jealous/possessive!cassian

“Two shots of Corellian whiskey, please,” you ask, stepping up to the bar beside Cassian. The sound of your voice almost makes him jump, but he hides the movement smoothly, adjusting in his seat. From the corner of his eye, he watches you lean back against the bar, propping your elbows on it. You wait for a few other patrons to pass before you drop your voice low. “You’re late.”

“I am not late,” he grumbles, polishing off the rest of his own drink. “I’ve been here waiting for you for hours now.”

You scoff a laugh, shaking your head. “After all this time and you still think you can lie to me, Cassian? You don’t think I had a lock on your ship the moment it entered the atmosphere?”

He balks, tries to hide it and fails. You’re good. Too good. He doesn’t say a word, shakes his head as the bartender returns with two shot glasses, placing them on the bar between you and him.

“That Fondor looks like it’s more mod than original,” you comment, reaching for one of the shots. “Where’d you steal it?”

“I didn’t steal it,” he shoots back, watching your brow raise. “It’s on loan, from a friend.”

“You don’t have friends, Cassian,” you quip, tossing back your shot. You slide the second one over to him. “Just people you owe money to.”

“I don’t owe you any money,” he mutters, unable to stop himself from giving you a cheeky grin. “What does that make us? Friends?”

“You know exactly what we are,” you return, giving him a sideways glance before setting your glass back down. “The mark just walked in. Keep an eye out, will you?”

“I always do,” he replies, and then you’re gone.

This is an old habit for Cassian. He’s known you a long time; you grew up on Ferrix same as him, but you managed to get off-world far before he could bring himself to. By the time he first met up with you on Coruscant, you had already started to make a name for yourself in the Capital’s underworld, and Cassian was in awe. He longed to get the hell off of Ferrix, to go somewhere warm and easy and carefree. He knew Coruscant wasn’t that place, but judging by the amount of credits you were raking in, it was a step in the right direction.

You sent for him often, over the years. He was the only one you trusted to watch your back, to keep a careful eye while you gathered intel, traded information with some of the shadier types in the galaxy. Most jobs went off without a hitch, but there were more than a handful of times where Cassian had started bar brawls to get you the hell out of dodge. He hadn’t had to kill anyone yet, but after everything that’s happened to him, he wouldn’t be surprised.

This is the first time he’s seen you, since everything happened on Ferrix. Maarva, Bix, B2. Luthen and his newborn rebellion. Cassian doesn’t totally know where he stands, what he’s doing, what his next move might be. But when he picked up your signal, Luthen loaned him the ship with little protest, and he was jumping through hyperspace an hour later.

You call, and he comes. It’s how it’s always been.

There had always been something between you, Cassian knew that much. His reputation might not have been the most pristine, but you never seemed to mind, having a bit of a rep yourself. 

But tonight…He could hear the unspoken in your voice, the strain of the events of the last time you met up. The job hadn’t been the issue - it had gone perfectly, in fact - but after, you asked him to walk you back to the apartment you had on the other side of the district.

He’d done as you asked, going so far as to bring you right to your front door. You’d asked him if he wanted to come inside, and before he could get the word yes past his teeth, you’d grabbed him by the front of his collar, and kissed him.

Clothes scattered on the floor, you’d stumbled your way to your bedroom. It was…blissful, in a word. It was everything he felt like he was missing, and that unspoken thing rumbled through you both, but there in your bed, he didn’t think it needed to be spoken aloud. It just…was.

Morning had come too quickly, and when he woke, you were gone. No note, nothing, just his clothes folded and stacked on the table beside the bed. He’d dressed quickly, and got on the next ship to Ferrix.

He wants to ask. He wants to know why you didn’t stay, why you didn’t leave him any sign that you wanted him to stay. But after everything that’s happened, it feels inconsequential, almost.

Cassian drinks down the shot, setting the glass down on the bar with a little too much force. You’re easy to spot, weaving your way through the bar to a man lurking in the dark corner. Brow furrowing, his hand brushes over his coat, where his blaster sits, tucked against his hip. He’s gotten quick on the draw, since he last saw you.

The man spots you as you draw closer, and Cassian bristles at the recognition on his face. He’s glad to see you, and it only becomes more and more evident as the two of you move closer and closer together, heads bowed as you speak, the man’s hand moving to rest on your hip. Then it moves up your back, pressing into the dip of your spine, and Cassian grits his teeth.

Something like jealousy flares in his gut. No, not something like it, but the thing itself.

He wants to touch you like that again, like he had that night. Seeing someone else with their hands on you…his fingers twitch over the blaster again.

No, something else warns him, a clearer voice in his head. That won’t go well, and you know it.

So instead, he watches. He leans back as casually as he can, one elbow leaned on the bar, tapping his other hand against his thigh. The conversation doesn’t last much longer, and before he knows it, you’re returning to his side, a contented grin on your face.You toss your hair over your shoulder as you wave down the bartender again. “Another round.”

“Got everything you needed?”

“And then some,” you reply, looking at him over your shoulder. “Thank you for coming, Cassian.”

He just nods. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

“We’re not friends,” you say, shaking your head as the bartender brings you another two shots. You toss them both back quickly. “I thought we made that clear the last time you were here.”

“The last time?” he repeats, lifting a brow. “You mean when you dragged me to bed and disappeared the next morning? That last time?”

He doesn’t mean for it to come out with such venom, but it does. Jealousy has taken hold of him and refuses to let go. His blood boils with it.

You narrow your eyes at him, your tongue poking between your lips to wet them. He watches the movement and ignores the way it makes his trousers tighten. He’s mad at you, he’s so glad to see you, he’s infuriated at you for leaving him alone last time, he’s so in love with you he might burst into flames.

“You’re jealous,” you determine, and though everything in him screams YES!, he rolls his eyes, turning half away from you. But you don’t let him go far, grabbing his shoulder and spinning his stool back in your direction. “Tell me I’m wrong, Cassian.”

Your hand moves from his shoulder to his thigh, and Cassian’s jaw goes tight. “We are not friends.”

“No,” you agree. “We’re more than that.”

“And your way of telling me that was disappearing the next morning, waiting three months, and then calling me to be your sidekick again?”

Your face falls, and you step back, removing your hand from his leg. “Come with me.”

Without another word, you turn on your heel and stalk out of the bar. Cassian only finds it in him to move when you reach the doorway, and then he’s all but chasing you, walking the almost familiar path to your apartment. You take the stairs, seeming to float up them as Cassian almost struggles to keep up. He loses you for a moment, but when he reaches your door, it’s open, only closing when he steps inside.

He calls your name, hears your quiet in here come from the direction of your bedroom. The place looks the same as he remembers and as he rounds the corner of the hallway, stepping into your room, he finds you perched at the edge of your bed.

“I left in the morning to get us breakfast,” you admit, looking up at Cassian, your eyes shining in the dark. “I’m not here a lot, and there wasn’t any food, so I went to get us something. When I came back, you were gone, and I realized I’d made a mistake.”

He says your name again, softer, and you shake your head.

“And then I started hearing the rumours, about Ferrix, about you. I heard about Aldhani, about Narkina-5, all of it. I even called Brasso, and that was when he told me about Maarva. I’ve been trying to call you ever since then, but nothing was going through. Then I met Vel, and she gave me the right frequency to contact you.”

Cassian sighs, leaning against the doorway. He never even questioned how you’d gotten his contact info after he was off Ferrix…he just…

You called, he came.

“You met Vel,” he says, unsure of what else to say.

You nod. “Hell of a woman.”

Cassian nods. “So you know, then. About the Rebellion.”

“I do. Figured I should put my talents to good use. Better than ripping off ex-senators and making credits I don’t need. And, if it keeps me closer to you, then it’s a win on all sides, as far as I can tell.”

His stomach drops into his toes. “You’re joining?”

You nod again. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes. I tried to resist it, I really did. But now…everything else seems…”

“Meaningless?” you supply. You pull your eyes from his. “For what it’s worth, Cassian, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner. I’m sorry about Maarva, Ferrix, all of it. ”

“You didn’t cause it,” he replies, propping his hands on his hips. “I did that all by myself.”

“Come here,” you say, your voice going soft and your eyes meeting his once more. “Please?”

Slowly, he closes the distance. He watches you reach for him, your hands moving to the belt that holds his blaster, undoing it quickly and letting it slip to the floor. He tries not to groan when your hands move under his loose shirt, fingers curling around his hips. 

Silently, he shakes his coat off, letting it drop to the ground before he hooks two fingers in the back of his shirt, pulling it forward off his torso. It joins the pile on the floor and then he hisses, your teeth sinking into the skin over his hip bone. He lets one hand dive into your hair, holding you against him, feeling your tongue soothe the mark you’ve left behind.

“Promise me something,” he whispers, and you tilt your head back, pulling your mouth from his skin long enough to meet his eyes.

“Anything.”

“Promise you’ll still be here in the morning.”

“I promise.”

You kiss your way across his waist, fingers working the button on his trousers while you distract him with your mouth. He’s got both hands in your hair now, silk between his knuckles, and it almost pulls his focus completely, enough that you have to repeat the next words out of your mouth.

“You never answered me.”

“Huh?”

“Back at the bar, I said you were jealous. You never answered me.”

You pull his zipper down, snap the elastic of his boxers against his skin. Cassian hisses. “I thought it was obvious.”

“It was,” you agree, nipping at his hip again. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

He tightens his grip on your hair and pulls, just hard enough that your head tilts back and he bends slightly, pulling his body away from yours, but putting his face close enough that he can feel your breath on his cheek.

“You have any idea how much I hated seeing someone else touch you? Someone else put their hands on you?”

You inhale sharply, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, and Cassian prods it with his thumb, pulling it free, rubbing the pad of his thumb across the plush of your lip. “Show me.”

And he does.

He makes quick work of your clothes, shucking his trouses off once you’re naked on the bed. You don’t let him go far, surging up to kiss him when he steps back to undress completely. Your hands are in his hair, same as his are in yours, and Cassian groans when you tug, both of you finding similar pleasure in the movement.

The first night was different. You’d stumbled your way through the dark, finding your peaks quickly. You’d fallen asleep after, and Cassian had watched you for a while before drifting off. That unspoken thing lulled him to sleep.

But now, he turns the bedside light on. The room illuminates with a soft orange glow, and he leans over you, until you fall back against the pillows and blankets, laid out for him, reaching for him. He molds himself into your palms, covers your body with his own. 

The first night, he hadn’t had the chance to taste you. Refusing to miss out a second time, he arranges you on the bed, pushing your knees apart to make room for his shoulders, tracing his mouth along the inside of your thigh, eyes darting between your glistening cunt and your face, the way your eyes roll back in your skull when he buries his head between your legs and sucks your clit between his teeth.

He wants to feel you cum on his face, to feel your thighs tremble around his ears, but you have other ideas. You haul him up with a gasp, fitting your mouth to his and licking your taste out of his mouth. “I wanted to-” he starts, but you cut him off, reaching between your bodies and squeezing your fingers around his cock.

“Plenty of time for that later,” you murmur, lips at his jaw, words spoken into his skin. “Right now I need you inside me, Cass.”

He groans as you stroke him, curling your wrist just right, but then he pulls your hand away, pinning your wrists either side of your head. Using his knees, he spreads your legs wide and drops his hips, the tip of his cock dragging through your wetness.

“Please,” you beg, your own hips lifting, chasing him, trying to notch his cock at your entrance. He teases you a moment longer, waits for the angle to be just right, and then he pushes into you. Your fingers flex against the bedsheets, mouth dropping open with a moan as his hips press into yours. Your legs twitch, one calf wrapping around his thigh. “Cassian, fuck, oh my-”

He covers your mouth with his, swallowing down your words and moans. You tighten around him, impossibly so, and he starts to move, finding his rhythm, filling you to the hilt with each thrust only to pull out almost all the way and do it all over again. Over and over and over, and you’re babbling into his mouth, straining against his hold. He leans up just that much more, pulling his lips from yours, both of you staring down at the spot where you’re joined, where he’s disappearing into you with every move.

“I’m the only one who gets to touch you like this, yes?” he grunts, hearing you gasp as he gives you one particularly hard thrust. He feels your head wobble with a nod, but he wants to hear it. “Say it.”

“Only you, Cass,” you breathe out, throwing your head back as you go even tighter around him. “Oh gods, fuck, only you.”

Pleasure coils like a serpent at the base of his spine, and he drops, trying not to smother you with his weight, pressing his face into the arch of your throat. You moan loudly as he releases your hands, curling his own around your shoulders while yours find purchase in his hair again. The bed shakes with your movement, both legs lifting to wrap around his waist now, your ankles hooked together at the small of his back. “Please, please, please, please, please,” you beg and Cassian bites at your pulse, groaning into your skin as his release threatens to overtake him.

“Cum for me,” he says, and you obey.

Your back arches and you make the sweetest sounds. He wants to bottle them, keep them for himself. He rides out your orgasm, keeping his own pleasure at bay until you’ve caught your breath, sighing at the press of him inside you, pulling him close. “Now you,” you whisper, nipping at his ear, lifting your hips so he gets that much deeper inside you, the warmth enough to swallow him whole. “Let me feel you.”

You call, and he comes.

He growls into your throat, fingers digging deep into your shoulders. You press kisses along his cheek, the space below his ear, his temple. Murmurs of how good it feels, how you missed him, how you’ll never let him go again, it’s the backdrop to the pleasure roaring through his body. It makes every muscle in him tense up before he relaxes completely, sinking into your embrace.

His eyes drop shut as he softens inside you, completely spent. Your fingers comb through his hair, soft kisses still scattered across whatever skin you can reach. After a few minutes, he finds the strength to roll off of you, falling onto the bed at your side.

You kiss his mouth before you get up, disappearing into the fresher for a moment, coming back with a glass of water for you both to share. Cassian gulps down the liquid as you slide back into bed with him, pulling the blankets over you both. You go to turn out the light, but he stops you.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

[lakemojave]

This afternoon at 2:30 pm pacific: Tales From the Rambler Episode 14!!!

DM'd by Bill @gabajoofs, starring Dot @dorothylarouge as Janica Halcyon, Sebastian @lakemojave as Bhuri'Hssyngig, Jordan @brucebocchi as Ced Saverem, Heather @chansaw as Val Griv'ir, and Julia @thottacelli as Caitvuna Conu!

Art by @bijillion, recap under the cut! See y'all then!

THE STORY SO FAR: It has been years since the end of the Galactic Civil War. The New Republic struggles to rebuild the galaxy after decades of Imperial rule, locked in a cold war with the remnant Pentastar Alignment. All the while, in the dark corners of the galaxy, organized crime groups compete with each other to gain power in the galactic underworld after the collapse of the Hutt Cartel. Now, the crew of the transport ship the Rambler have been thrust into this gritty, cutthroat world...

LAST TIME: The crew of the Rambler ended their escapades in Doaba Guerfel by capturing the former Imperials who had secretly been installed at the highest levels of the city government and turning them in to the Corellian peoples' security forces. They were also met by Republic Intelligence, who gave tempered congratulations on their mission and instructed them to deal with the bounties placed on their heads by Black Sun.

In order to do this, Janica made contact with her associate Reginald Sparke, an information broker aligned with Black Sun. Unexpectedly, he set up a meeting with Durga the Hutt himself, Black Sun's leader, on the lava planet Mustafar. With the upgrades to the Rambler still needing a few days to complete, the crew took some time to rest and recharge after the stress of the mission, especially Bhuri, who went on a solo hunt in the woods to decompress from the racism she had experienced during their time in Doaba Guerfel. After a few days, the party reunited, and made for Mustafar.

The crew landed at Durga's headquarters, a mining facility run on slave labor. Incensed, Cait nearly made an effort to free the slaves, before Bhuri was able to convince her that there was nothing they could do for them right now. The situation defused, the crew arrived at Durga's throne room for their audience with him. Durga the Hutt offered to wipe their bounties in exchange for a job - springing several associates of his from a high security prison on the moon of Yaga Minor, in Pentastar Alignment space. He wanted them all alive but one - Sherlera the Hutt, whom he ordered to be executed for crossing him and trying to work with the Rebellion.

With the aid of a shuttle supplied by Republic Intelligence, the Rambler penetrated the Imperial remnant, making a series of risky hypserspace jumps before arriving at Yaga Minor, where they slipped by a checkpoint with forged credentials. Claiming they were there on a prisoner transfer, the crew were able to get inside the prison just as civil war erupted between factions of the Alignment led by Grand Admiral Gilad Pellaeon and Legate Ardus Kaine. In the chaos, the party was able to secure their quarry, and opened up all the other prison cells on the way out.

The party defied Durga's orders by faking Sherlera's death and turning her over to Republic Intelligence, then gave the others to Durga. As she was lying to the Hutt about Sherlera's fate, Janica felt a wellspring of charisma rise within her, allowing her to pull one over on the leader of Black Sun - and awakening something else within her, something which had been stirring for a long time...

[sonofthedunes]

may the fourth be with you, fellow travelers! this time last year i was still a few weeks off from properly getting back into Star Wars, so i’m thrilled i can properly celebrate with you this time! :3 this story is quite a bit different from the others i’ve written for this blog, but i hope you’ll enjoy it nonetheless. no content warnings. check it out below the cut:

remembrance and reflection

Coruscant, 2000 ABY

For nearly a millennium, the trio of statues have overlooked this plaza. Most citizens hardly spare them a glance as they hurry by, their grandeur muted by time and distance. After all, the Galactic Empire and the Rebellion which had toppled it are ancient history, its players long dead and its monuments crumbling. The major anniversaries are mostly celebrated as welcome days free from work and school. Years of thrilling battles and legendary heroes have been reduced to dry, droning paragraphs in educational holos.

The civil war had permanently reshaped the galaxy, and the average citizen takes it for granted.

But there are those who remember.

A young child stands alone in front of the statues. Mother brought them here at their favorite time of day: the beginnings of sunset, when all is bathed in pale orange light and the crowds have thinned. She is sitting on a bench some feet away, the day’s shopping in bags at her feet. Oh, how the child had begged to come here instead of heading straight home! “Not today, darling, I’m tired,” Mother had objected…but one deployment of tooka eyes and sniffling later, she’d relented.

Every time the child sees these statues, they’re reminded of the story told over their cradle and at many a family gathering: that two thousand years ago, a distant ancestor had joined the Rebel Alliance. Their name won’t be found in any list of decorated war heroes. Depending on who was asked, they were a mechanic, or perhaps a communications officer—after so much time, details have muddled. But they were there regardless, witness to the struggle against the Empire’s might…

And maybe, just maybe, this ancestor encountered one of the rebellion’s legends.

It seems only proper to visit the princess first. When the child was very young, they sometimes bowed to her stone form, sensing the regality that had been present in the flesh. Her round face is kind, sincere, but the artist has realized a deeply contained fire too. She was a tiny woman, the Princess of Alderaan, though she had courage and intelligence enough for a dozen men. Captured by the Empire, forced to watch the destruction of her planet, she narrowly escaped death herself to lead the Rebellion…and later, the New Republic. The child would have liked to meet her very much. Her hands are sculpted outstretched in a gesture of peace; they are small and slender, but belie a certain strength too. She was a great chief councilor, the texts agree. And, the anecdotes proclaim, a great woman too.

By her side in stone, as he was for so long in life, stands her husband. The Corellian smuggler—the eventual general, if the child recalls their lessons correctly—rests a hand on his blaster, a subtle hint of what might happen should he be crossed. Yes, he was a quick shot and an elite pilot, with a brain for tactics and a knack for wriggling out of trouble. But if one studies that classically handsome face, they’ll detect the heart of gold under the cocky facade. for it was his sense of loyalty that brought him back to help win the Battle of Yavin, and his love for the princess that saved her from Hoth. Even a year spent in carbon freeze couldn’t vanquish his spirit! The child would have liked to meet him too.

And that leaves just one figure to contemplate—who might just be the most legendary of all. The child has never seen a Jedi in person…at least they don’t think they have. The old temple still stands deserted, a memorial to the tragedy of Order 66, and the reborn order has relocated somewhere far beyond Coruscant. But surely some of its number must walk the streets of the city-planet! They must simply be adept at concealing themselves, the child decides.

This man, though, the son of Skywalker…no disguise could hide his true identity, and not just because he so greatly resembles his father. Even in stone he exudes a power beyond most sentients’ understanding. The statue’s eyes are stern, but they are also gentle; he brandishes his ignited lightsaber, not to attack but to point the way forward. As prolific as the tapes of his combat prowess may be, just as numerous are the whispered stories of his kindness. A few of the child’s schoolmates claim their ancestors were given shelter at the temple on Ossus, or liberated from Imperial bondage by a bold young X-wing pilot and his squadron. That’s the version of him the child likes best—not the fearless warrior, but the compassionate embodiment of a Jedi Knight. The histories record that he was raised on a Tatooine moisture farm, plucked from obscurity to lead the Rebellion to victory. If that’s so, the child considers, perhaps they might one day achieve greatness too. Leave this galaxy a tiny bit better than it was.

They would have liked to meet him most of all.

“We can’t stay much longer, darling,” Mother’s voice suddenly reminds them; she and her shopping are standing just behind. “Auntie is coming for dinner and I’ve got to get home and start cooking.”

“All right, Mother,” the child murmurs, eyes trained on the statues. “…Mother?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think they were really as great as people say?”

She smiles and pats their shoulder. “I think that the galaxy would be very different if they weren’t.”

“Could I be a hero too someday?”

“Only the Force knows that, my love,” she replies. “Now come along.”

As Mother guides them out of the plaza, the child glances back once more at the three figures. Princess, general, Jedi, all gazing out on a small piece of the universe they helped defend. They almost seem to glow in the deepening sunset. Once they were like me, the child ponders. Now they are legends. Even if these sculptures someday topple and their names are never spoken again, their bravery echoes through the ages. Wherever beings of all species live in peace and prosperity, their actions bear fruit.

The dead rest, but their legacies remain.

[mayawakening]

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!!

[from-a-legends-pov]

Star Wars Legends: Poll of the Week - Favorite Wraith Backstory, part 1

In the Star Wars Legends novel X-Wing: Wraith Squadron, Wedge Antilles and Wes Janson put together a new kind of group for the New Republic Navy – a combination commando unit and starfighter squadron. To conserve resources, Wedge and Wes recruited the initial members of the squadron largely from pilots who had promising skills, but had been identified as misfits or at risk of washing out of the New Republic navy.

Wedge, Wes, and ten other pilots with a variety of skills and backstories made up the original roster of Wraith Squadron (initially known as Gray Squadron).

Of these five original Wraiths to join Wedge and Wes, whose backstory is your favorite? (We’ll ask about the other half of the roster in part 2.)

Falynn Sandskimmer, an ace Y-wing pilot from Tatooine who was extremely sick of being compared to a certain X-wing pilot from Tatooine, and often got charged with insubordination for voicing her low opinion of Luke Skywalker and other famous Rebels.

Voort “Piggy” saBinring, a Gamorrean who had been genetically engineered for high intelligence and mathematical abilities, so skilled that he could do navigation calculations without an astromech and was an expert in pattern recognition; he had been charged with insubordination because other officers kept attempting to start fights with him, and merely blocking their punches was enough to get charged.

Myn Donos, a Corellian sniper and pilot who was the lone survivor when his former squadron, Talon Squadron, was ambushed; Talon Squadron was lured into the ambush thanks to false intelligence planted by Imperial agent Gara Petothel, and Donos was so troubled by the incident that he no longer would wear the Corellian bloodstripes he had earned previously.

Kell Tainer, an ace pilot and demolitions expert from Alderaan whose father, also a pilot, panicked during an early mission for the Rebellion and tried to flee, forcing Wes Janson to shoot him down and prompting Kell’s family to change their name due to his father’s reputation for cowardice; he constantly sought to be the best and to somehow make up for his father’s failings.

Jesmin Ackbar, a Mon Calamari and the niece of Admiral Gial Ackbar; Jesmin was a gifted pilot and communications expert but kept getting assignments way beneath her abilities, because nobody wanted to be the commanding officer who got Admiral Ackbar’s niece killed.

Hungry for more Legends content? Follow @from-a-legends-pov and check out our upcoming Star Wars Legends fanfiction event, From a Legends Point of View, HERE. Signups open April 28 — please encourage your favorite Star Wars writers to participate!

[darth-grips]

Chapters: 1/6

Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Han Solo, Luke Skywalker/Han Solo, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker & Han Solo, Biggs Darklighter/Luke Skywalker, Reyé Hollis/Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa/Han Solo

Characters: Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Leia Organa, Chewbacca (Star Wars), Biggs Darklighter, Wedge Antilles, Lando Calrissian, Reyé Hollis, Din Djarin, Ben Solo

Additional Tags: Minor Wedge Antilles/Luke Skywalker, Minor Lando Calrissian/Luke Skywalker, Sorry I would feel guilty for putting this fic in these pairing tags lol, Trans Luke Skywalker, Protective Han Solo, Cuddling & Snuggling, Like jesus christ there is so much hugging going on in this fic. This is a real hug centric fic, Drinking & Talking, So much of that going on, Trans Reyé Hollis, Reyé Hollis my beloved, Not Canon Compliant - The Mandalorian (TV) Season/Series 03, Corellian Culture & Customs (Star Wars), POV Han Solo, POV Outsider, Accidental Voyeurism, Yeah Han accidentally walks in on Luke a lot for plot reasons lmfao, Character Study, Luke Skywalker Has Daddy Issues, Bottom Luke Skywalker, Transphobia, Not like.... explicitly. but it's there. unforch., 5+1 Things, Technically SWars Sequel Trilogy Compliant But We're Just Gonna Ignore That, Discord: DinLuke Server, Explicit Sexual Content, no beta we die like liberty with thunderous applause, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Married Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Han Solo Is Bad at Feelings, Han Solo is a Good Person, Good Parent Han Solo, Protective Leia Organa, Han Solo accidentally being the galaxy's biggest trans ally, Also sorry to Wedge fans in advance. if he's your special little guy maybe this fic isn't for you

Summary:

The Rebel Alliance has their own doomed cause, and now Han Solo has his: Keep Luke Skywalker breathing until he realizes what a karking naïve idiot he is and unquestioningly follows all of Han's advice.

Han Solo is a scoundrel, and a rogue, and a guy who's just trying his best when Luke Skywalker fumbles chest over camtono into his life. Turns out he might actually sort of love the kid, in all the ways there is to love another person, even as they fight in a rebellion and life and circumstances change both themselves and everything around them.

The problem is that Luke is a little lonely by nature and always on the hunt for love, and Han, who's sworn to protect him from both the galaxy at large and his own efforts toward idiotic martyrdom, doesn't think that there's really anybody in the galaxy who's good enough for him. He's not going to stick his nose into any of Luke's relationships, not if Luke doesn't want him to, but boy howdy do they give him one hell of a headache.

[Or, the 5+1 things fic that spun entirely out of my control, where it's Han, Luke, the five men who loved and lost Luke, and the one he eventually married, all over the course of 10 years. Spoiler alert, it's not Han.]

***

Plugging my new WIP which I’m having a blast writing tbh. It’s about every iteration of Skysolo, it’s about Luke, it’s about Luke being trans in the GFFA, and surprisingly, a lot of it’s about Han. Who knew he could be my perfect special little guy

[yoditorian]

Lacuna - The Rewrite - Part 2

din/gn!reader

i split the original chapter into two upon rewriting, which is why the second half is missing

original part 2//series masterlist//main masterlist

word count: 3.1k // warnings: some swears, too many italics, that's literally it tho, still 18+ no babies

“-wiped out, no one survived.”

“Well, someone did.”

They’re arguing, still. And you’ve been delivered five meals since being directed into the small office for questioning. So it’s been at least a day, almost two. Probably. The voices in the hall fade, they must be off to discuss your situation with someone who might be able to make the decision. They’ve already searched you and your pack - already confirmed you’re not a spy for the Empire - so what’s the hold up?

You don’t hear a set of footsteps approaching the door, too wrapped up in your own anxieties about what might happen if they don’t let you in. Which is probably why you jump half a foot in your chair when the door slides open. It reveals a woman, dark hair and sharp features, deep green flight suit tied at her waist. She’s pretty, although she’s clearly not sure what to make of you just yet as she eyes the binders at your wrists.

“What do you do?” She asks, arms folded as she leans against the doorframe. You don’t answer straight away, not sure if it might be some kind of test, but at least she doesn’t look overly annoyed that she has to repeat her question to get an answer.

“Pilot, mechanic, fucking janitor - whatever, honestly.” 

“Triple threat,” Her voice is even, but she’s fighting a smile that gives her away immediately. Not a test, then. “What kind of experience you got?”

Shara has to admit that the rumours of a surviving member of the Corellian spy ring had piqued her interest. Jet fuel runs in the blood there, it’s a safe bet that whoever the generals had spent the better part of forty eight hours grilling has more than enough experience to hop straight into a starfighter. And with heavy losses in recent months, pilots are something the Rebellion is desperately short on. 

So she isn’t shocked when you start listing every planetside transport, every planet hopper, cargo freighter, gunship, and starfighter you’ve ever worked on or flown. The list is extensive, impressive honestly. It dwarfs the experience of many of her colleagues, and Shara can’t help the thrum of excitement in her veins. Not only are you an experienced pilot, but you’re a mechanic - a scrapper, the rebels need more scrappers. Too many politicians, too many people who are far too used to having every resource in the galaxy at their disposal. It’s a glimmer of hope, she realises, in a night becoming all too dark for anyone’s liking.

“So, you can fly anything?” Shara asks, no longer hiding the wide grin on her face.

“Anything.”

You’ll fit right in, she decides - there and then.

And you do, you slot in like you’ve lived your whole life orbiting Yavin.

They drill you like there’s no tomorrow, you’ve got the deep muscle aches to prove it but it’s thrilling. Your back hurts and it’s everything you ever wanted it to be. Where the Corellian spy ring was all sneaking and secrets, the Rebel base on Yavin IV is a full scale production. Every daylight hour is spent running the same manoeuvres in the main four fighters - before you know it, you could fly any one of them with your eyes closed. Despite the pain and the exhaustion and the repetitive nature of the training, you love it. But you’ve got your eyes on the prize.

A coveted position in one of the primary starfighter squadrons has conveniently opened up, its previous placeholder reassigned, and you’re not the only one who’s sure that the fourth bunk in Green Squadron’s barracks has your name on it.

“I know I don’t see you coming for my track time.” Shara Bey’s voice is loud and clear over the buzz of the hangar, and you can’t keep the smile off your face despite the ache deep in your bones.

“Maybe I am, are you finally gonna do something about it?”

Shara launches herself at you the moment you set your datapad down, a boisterous laugh echoing off the ships. You’re steadily climbing the ranks in training, the years of experience already under your belt make you more confident in the cockpit than the other new recruits and you’re not afraid to pull a stunt or two. A flawless dead drop recovery had earned more than a few nods of approval from some of the qualified pilots. Although the Commander overseeing the recruit training made it clear that it was definitely what landed you with patrol maintenance duty on top of your usual drills in the first place.

“I talked to Draven.” She says, and your stomach flips. You’re leaps and bounds ahead of the other recruits, for sure, but nobody seems to want to sign off on your training. There’s always something about required hours or simulation times or more drills. You’re starting to get the feeling that, while you’ve got enough support from your would-be colleagues, no one in command wants you in the air at all.

“I told you I would!”

“I know, I know. But look, if I ask it’s more like an endorsement.”

“Shara-” You’re talking over one another, but not missing a single word. It’s a talent that leaves the commanding officers astounded more often than not.

“He said he’d think about it, which in command language means no-” 

“Tell me there’s a but.”

“But,” She grins widely, “He told me if you get this next info grab done, he’ll put in a good word with my commanders. And my commanders know I’m not going in the air unless you’re at my nine o’clock.”

Shara’s been far more welcoming than just about everyone since the moment she’d rocked up to your interrogation room and asked about your experience. And, over the moon to find you wandering around the halls and out of the binders, she’d spent the whole of your first night curled up in your bunk in the recruit barracks - recounting every little bit of drama she could think of. By the morning, you know who was dating who, who wasn’t happy about it, which crews were rivals, and which held the fastest course runs. Hers, obviously . 

You weren’t as forthcoming with your own journey, only mentioning that you’d run with some rebels for a while on your home planet, made a few detours along the way - she didn’t seem too surprised, and you wondered how much of that she knew already. Ran’s voice, still, in the back of your mind reminding you that everybody has an agenda . But her eyes were so open, so kind, you’ve yet to see that slip. Shara Bey might be the first genuinely good person you’ve ever met.

“And Kes’s crew is due to swing by tomorrow, in case you’ve changed your mind.” She winks, although she already knows you well enough to know you won’t take her up on the offer.

It had come up that first night, somewhere along the way, when she’d started lamenting about the pitiful state of the dating pool. Not something she had to worry about anymore, thank God, but a nightmare nowadays if you were after anyone who didn’t have history with someone in their own crew. She was happy to get her boyfriend to set you up with one of his friends - Pathfinders, never on base long enough to establish a history with anyone, fine enough to pass the time, and strong enough to manhandle you a little. If that’s what you’re into. 

You’d still been a little wary of sharing too many details about your history, something about how you weren’t interested muttered in the dark over the quiet breathing of the other new recruits. You could only tell her that you didn’t expect to see him again. He’d gone home, you didn’t even know where home was. She’d understood, with an arm around your shoulders and an attentive ear if you ever wanted to share more, although she made it clear that the offer of a muscular pair of emotionally unattached Pathfinder arms was always open.

It’s close to a year since you got scooped up by their spies for asking about the Rebellion, but Shara’s never failed to make it seem like much longer. Like you’ve been best friends, sharing lunches and secrets on the landing pad in the shade of her A-Wing for your whole lives. Even now, she’s looking at you like she knows you - backwards, forwards, sideways, inside out. Truth be told, she kind of does. It’s a closeness you’re sure you’ve never had with anyone, and you know you wouldn’t give it up for anything.

“Someone came here last week having never left his planet before and they put him on the training roster. You’ve logged more flight time than any recruit I’ve ever seen and we didn’t even have to teach you in the first place. I know you’re Draven’s golden child, but he can’t keep you on the ground forever, kid.”

“You can’t call me ‘kid’, I’m older than you.” You laugh, shoving her shoulder with your own.

“You’re ruining the moment.” She winks, pressing a kiss to your temple before she waves at a commander calling her name and makes her way to her ship.

The datapad beeps a reminder from its resting place on your tool trolley, you need to pack for your intel grab. It shouldn’t be a long trip, Draven had assured you, a simple in and out: information in exchange for protection and transport to the base. Protection and transport optional. He makes the hard decisions, you’ve learned during your time running the smaller missions for intelligence. The more important runs get given to rebels like Cassian Andor and the group of mercs you’d seen filing into the command room a few days ago. It was an odd combination, seeing people like that somewhere like this, and you know you shouldn’t have stared but you couldn’t help yourself. Weapons strapped to every empty space on each body, armour and clothes on a number of species from all across the galaxy. One of them had looked jarringly like you, although you hadn’t really gotten a good look at their face before they’d disappeared.

Just this mission, and you’d be in the air next week. Hopefully. It’s enough to get your feet moving towards the barracks to pack.

You only need the basics, a change of clothes and some medkit refills. Just in case. Except there’s still an empty space when you zip it shut, sitting heavy between your neatly folded shirts and the top of the bag, and you keep looking at your blanket. It gets cold in hyperspace, a voice in the back of your mind pipes up, and you decide that’s good enough reason as any to fold it in alongside your supplies. It smells solidly of the clean soap of your bedsheets, his scent - Din’s scent, a mix of metal and warmth - had faded before you even plucked up the courage to go looking for the Rebellion, all those months ago. You still hold it to your nose for a moment, just to check, before it too gets folded and laid in the top of your pack.

Now you’re ready.

Din isn’t overly fond of Nevarro. It’s not an unbearable heat, the dry plains are to thank for that, but he’s not a fan of days where the wind picks up and carries the sulphur of the lava fields under the lip of his helmet. The covert welcomed him back, more or less with open arms - though he’s not sure if their ever-dwindling numbers might have had anything to do with the warm reception. He hadn’t let them go without a cut of his pay for every job he’d done for Ran, always sending something back to the foundlings, so at least he hadn’t totally abandoned them. The Armourer decided he should be their beroya , their bounty hunter, and within days he found himself tracking a quarry in a system he’d never heard of. It was easy, really, to take the skills he’d garnered all his life and apply them to this. Paz had laughed with the familiarity of an old friend and told him that if a skinny thing like Din was their beroya , they were all fucked. So at least no one was openly angry that he’d left them.

The guild rep slides a puck across the table, metal scraping against the stone, and the blue hologram flickers. The human man staring back at him is unassuming, but the notes suggest otherwise. A former senator’s assistant, with strong connections to both the Empire and the Rebellion. Din nods, flicking the puck off and tucking it into his pocket without another word.

His loyalty is to the covert, to the Mandalorians. It always has been and it always will be. This is the way. But one mention of the Rebellion has his mind surging back to thoughts of you. Everything in his life seems to. Every time he sets foot on the Crest all he can see is you, bent double with your head in an access panel and a greasy rag tucked into the back of your pants. He’d see the sun and remember how you always used to turn your face to it, just for a moment, whenever the team ran jobs planetside. You’d never told him where you came from, but Ran had let bits and pieces slip over the years. In the looming shadow of the Razor Crest, Din wonders if you ever made it off the station. If you decided to drop everything and find the rebellion, the way you said you would when you were half asleep on his chest, your mind fucked out and hazy. He hopes you did.

The tracking fob brings him to a semi populated planet, somewhere near the border of the Unknown Regions. Vast swathes of land and water are completely uncolonised, left to nature, only a few cities dotted here and there over the whole planet. The bounty is evidently in possession of some brains, having chosen a mid-sized city to get lost in, and Din is almost disappointed that he knows it won’t take long. Wishes he’d picked a different puck, a little further away. Just to keep his mind occupied and out of more dangerous territories.

He stays vigilant, but pays no mind to the beeping of the fob on his belt. He can steal a moment, he thinks, to take in the area. To live the life of some extravagant explorer in his mind while he does a little recon, the life he might have led before it was cruelly snatched away in seconds on Aq Vetina. The last thing he expects to see when he walks into that crumbling little cantina is you.

Din spins on his heel and is out of the door almost as soon as he enters, slipping down the alley to the side of the building to catch his breath. He’s fairly sure you don’t notice - but his mind is reeling, echoes of the vows he swore as a child and the Armourer’s words swirl in his ears.

His loyalty is to the covert. His loyalty is to the covert. His loyalty is to the covert. 

But he only sees you. The way you always had time for him back on the station, how you told the others where they could shove it but always gave him a smile. You went above and beyond to help him without complaint when he asked, only ever got snippy with him when someone else had pissed you off first. He still remembers the way you felt in his hands, how you sounded, how you tasted. He still thinks about it on quiet nights, more often than he should. This is not the place to remember, there’ll be time for that later, although his body needs another minute to be completely convinced.

All he feels is guilt, once the blood comes back up to his brain. Guilt over the covert, over his vows and his creed and his people. But what’s more convincing is the guilt he has over you. Over how he just walked away, left you sleeping, and took the ship you’d spent months working on. Even if you were the one who told him to take it. You’re beautiful, still. Of course you are, you always have been to him. 

You notice when he walks in this time.

The sunlight streaming in from a window catches on the glass of his visor and your heart jumps into your throat. You don’t know if he’s spotted you yet, as he takes a seat at a table by the door angled away from you. Logically, you’d say it could be any Mandalorian. But you spent countless hours studying the way he moves, you had to know his gait to know if walking around a corner would get you killed or not. It almost had on more than one occasion. You could recognise his footsteps anywhere.

The untrained eye would think him relaxed, as relaxed as a man in head to toe armour can be, but you know better. There’s a tension in his shoulders, the same he used to get when Xi’an made another move on him with that grating giggle or Qin handled a blaster too roughly. His hand sits on his thigh, fingers splayed, ready to find the smooth contours of his blaster at any moment. Ever the soldier, never quite at ease. Apart from the last time you thought you’d ever see him, it seemed.

He leaves before you’re even done with your drink, sitting there for barely five minutes when he throws a couple of credits on the table for a drink he didn’t buy and stalks out. You sigh and down the rest of your drink, hoping it’ll quell the nausea rising in your stomach. It doesn’t, but you follow him out all the same.

You’re sure you were right behind him, weaving through the slowly emptying streets as the sun sets and the chill of the night begins to settle in, but now he’s nowhere to be found. Until you feel a set of eyes land heavily on your shoulders. You turn, slowly, and catch a glimpse of where he ducked into a narrow alley. The city’s full of them, but you’re certain he hadn’t been there when you passed it.

A long moment passes when you’re swallowed by the shadow of the buildings towering either side of you, a moment where he just watches you. You can’t deny you’re watching him too, carefully surveying his armour for new nicks and scrapes. There’s more than you’d like to admit to caring about.

“What are you doing here?” He breaks the silence, the tension, first. You shrug. 

“Working, what are you doing here?”

Din holds a small round disk in his palm, arm stretching out towards you as the holo flickers to life and you’re faced with your contact for the intel drop.

“Working.”

Fuck.

And that’s when a really, really bad idea starts to take shape.

i don't have access to my old taglist forms anymore so feel free to message or drop me an ask if you want to be tagged in future :)

[all-the-things-2020]

Boyfriends

Summary: A few of the many times Finn and Poe call each other (or are called) boyfriends. Takes place after “Quarantine.”

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2000+

“What should I call you?” Finn asked.

“Um, Poe is always nice,” Poe replied with a chuckle from underneath his X-wing.

“No, I mean, when I’m talking to people,” Finn clarified. “I’m not very clear on all this stuff. Is ‘boyfriend’ the right word?”

Poe slid out from under the ship, his face smeared with grease. “Yeah, I guess,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason,” Finn said, trying to be casual. “I just … well, someone was asking the other day and I wasn’t quite sure what to say.”

“Asking? What were they asking?” Poe sat up, his face suddenly serious.

Finn was uncomfortable and wishing he hadn’t brought it up. “It’s not a big deal,” he said, shrugging.

“Clearly it is,” Poe said, “or you wouldn’t have said anything.”

Finn sat on the ground and leaned against one of the landing gear. “Okay, so those new recruits that came in from the Dantooine system were talking about the pilots and some of them were asking stuff about you. One of the mechanics heard them and said they’d better not be saying that around me, and they asked me why and I wasn’t exactly sure what to say. Fortunately, Snap was nearby and he jumped in and told them I was your boyfriend.”

“Okay, then, so there was your answer,” Poe said, his brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Why did you have to ask me?”

“Because I wasn’t sure if that was the right term,” Finn admitted. “I didn’t know if Snap was joking or not. You pilots are always messing with each other. I didn’t want to tell someone you were my boyfriend and then have them laugh at me.” He felt silly now, but it really had been bothering him.

Poe smiled and wiped his hands on a nearby rag before pulling Finn in for a kiss. “You are something else, buddy,” he said. “You’ve adjusted so well, I forget there’s so much you don’t know about life.” He pressed his forehead against Finn’s. “But yeah, boyfriend is definitely good.”

*********************************

Poe walked into the cantina, one eye on the target sitting at the bar and the other on the Zygerrian in the corner. He hated these espionage missions; give him a straight forward mission any day. Just fly in, find the target, blow it up, and get the hell out. But Leia needed intel and she’d decided that Poe was the best one to get it for her. So here he was, in a skughole cantina on a backwater planet hoping to weasel some information out of a former Rebellion soldier who’d switched sides more times over the years than Poe had changed shirts.

The seat next to the target was taken, so Poe settled down on the closest stool and ordered a Corellian ale. The female Twi’lek next to him gave him a smile, but he shook his head at her. She shrugged and turned back to the man on her other side. Then Poe felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned to see a human male with thick blond hair and a charming smile. “You’re new,” he said, giving Poe an appraising look.

“Yeah,” Poe said, “and I have a boyfriend, so …”

The other man shrugged. “Can’t fault a guy for trying,” he said. He raised his glass to Poe and got up from his stool and walked away. Poe waited until he was safely on the other side of the cantina before he inspected the shoulder the man had tapped. Sure enough, he found a tiny transmitter stuck in the cloth of his shirt. Careful not to be too obvious, Poe extracted it, dropped it to the ground and stepped on it, grinding it under his boot heel as he stood up and carried his ale down to the other end of the bar, where a spot next to the target had opened up.

********************************************

“He hit on you?” Finn asked, aghast.

“Yeah,” Poe said, taking a drink from the bottle before passing it to Kare. The rest of Black Squadron seemed to be taking this news in stride, but Finn was upset.

“It happens to him all the time,” Jessica said. “The curse of being the poster boy of the Resistance.” She smiled sweetly at Poe, who made a face at her.

“He would have hit on any one of us,” Poe said. “He planted a transmitter on me. It was all just a ruse to get close.” He looked carefully at Finn. “Relax, buddy, I told him I had a boyfriend before he got more than two words out of his mouth.”

Kare and Jess laughed. “Aww, Poe’s in looove,” Jess said.

Poe made a rude hand gesture that Finn had recently learned about, but had been afraid to try for fear he’d use it in an inappropriate context. The Resistance was pretty lax about things like swear words and sexual innuendo, but only in certain company and at certain times. Finn was still getting the hang of the social ins and outs of Resistance life.

“Damn right I am,” Poe said, putting his arm around Finn’s shoulders and pulling him close. He pressed a kiss against Finn’s temple and then gestured at Snap to pass the bottle to him. “Quit hogging the booze, Wexley.”

*********************************************

“It’s pretty cute,” Rose said. She was helping Poe fix one of the afterburners on Black One. “I mean, obviously new people are going to be interested in Finn, everybody wants to be his friend. But he’s so careful to let them know he’s taken.” She laughed. “Pretty soon he’s just going to be wearing a sign that says ‘I have a boyfriend.’”

“I could make him a shirt that says ‘Property of Poe Dameron’,” Poe said, “but I’m afraid he wouldn’t realize it’s a joke and he’d actually wear it.” He reached into the toolbox for a different sized spanner.

“He definitely would,” Rose said. She put down the tool in her hand and cocked her head at him. “Would you wear one that said ‘Property of Finn’?”

Poe narrowed his eyes. “He’s not planning to make me one, is he?”

Rose crinkled her nose and laughed. “I’m not allowed to say.”

*******************************************

After dinner, Poe and Finn left the mess hall and took the long way back to the barracks. About three days after they’d gotten back from the mission where they’d been quarantined together, they’d given up all pretense of living in separate quarters, and Finn had moved in with Poe. He was there all the time, anyway, since Poe’s room was slightly larger and Finn was already borrowing Poe’s clothes half the time. I just made sense to put Finn’s meager wardrobe in the closet alongside Poe’s things and requisition a double bed to replace the narrow single.

Black Squadron called it the Nest, because they called Finn and Poe their Love Birds. Poe had threatened them with bodily harm at first, but now even he referred to their quarters as the Nest from time to time, usually when he was feeling amorous. Rey found the whole thing ridiculous, but Finn secretly liked it. He’d never had a nickname or friends who he could kid around with the way Poe’s squadron did. Even if the nicknames were silly, they made him feel like he belonged.

Now he and Poe drifted through the dark, taking their time. The base was dark after sundown, the only lights some very dim markers that kept people from wandering too far off course. Poe threaded his fingers through Finn’s and they bumped shoulders or hips as they walked along.

“So, I heard that the trade delegate from Koros found you very interesting,” Poe said.

Finn sighed. “She did,” he admitted. “But don’t worry, I let her know I wasn’t interested in her.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried,” Poe said. “I know you’d never cheat on me.” He elbowed Finn in the ribs.

Just a couple of weeks ago, Finn would have been flustered and denied ever even contemplating the mere idea of possibly looking at anyone else, but by now he knew that Poe was just teasing.

“Well, I was tempted,” Finn said, “but you have a nicer ass.” He let go of Poe’s hand and gave his bottom a squeeze.

“I do have a nice ass,” Poe replied. “And I do believe you just made a joke. You deserve a reward.” He slid his arms around Finn’s waist and pulled him close for a leisurely kiss. He finished off by squeezing Finn’s ass with both hands.

“I like that reward,” Finn said. “But I can think of a better one to give you when we get back to the Nest.”

“See, I knew there was a reason you’re my boyfriend,” Poe said. He kissed Finn again and then took his hand, pulling him down the dimly lit path toward the barracks.

***********************************

“Poe, your boyfriend is driving me crazy,” Rey announced as she walked into the hangar.

“What’s he doing now?” Poe asked, hanging off the side of Black One where he was spot welding some new shielding over some blaster marks.

The erstwhile Jedi sighed. “He’s asking me too many questions,” she said. “I know I’m supposed to be teaching him how to use his Force sensitivity, but I barely know anything myself. I just don’t have the answers for him.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“Yes, and he just asked when I would have them,” Rey said. “Can’t you keep him busy?”

“What do you expect me to do?” Poe asked, climbing down from the X-wing. “He’s not part of my squadron. He’s not even a pilot. I can’t give him orders.”

Rey made a face that clearly indicated she thought Poe was being dense. “I mean, keep him busy.” She made a vague gesture with her hands. “Like take him on a romantic picnic, or hole up in your quarters and do disgusting things to each other.”

Poe feigned indignation. “I’ll have you know I do not do disgusting things to Finn,” he said. “He’s very pleased with everything that happens in the privacy of our room, and I’ll thank you to stop thinking about it, you deviant Jedi.”

Rey laughed and punched him playfully in the shoulder. “Ew, I don’t want to imagine it,” she said. “It’s bad enough when he tells me about your tender kisses and that special look you give him that makes him melt inside … ugh. I’m happy for you both, really, I am, but I don’t need to know all the details.”

**********************************

Finn paused at the door. He could hear Poe talking inside and didn’t want to interrupt if he was in the middle of a personal comm. Then BB-8 bumped into the back of his legs and the door opened.

“Oh, that’s just my boyfriend crashing through the door,” Poe said. He was on a comm. “Come say hi to my dad, Finn.”

Finn shuffled around behind Poe’s chair so he was in the range of the comm camera. “Um, hi, Mr. Dameron,” he said.

“Hello, Finn,” the older man said. The comm link was not very strong, so the image kept breaking up, but from what Finn could see there was no doubt Kes Dameron was Poe’s father. “My son treating you right?”

“Yes, sir,” Finn said uncomfortably. He’d never met anyone’s parent before, let alone the parent of someone he was sleeping with. It felt weird.

“Good,” said Kes. “If he doesn’t, you let me know.”

“Um, okay. Um, I just came in to … grab a jacket. Have a good talk.” He opened the closet, grabbed the first jacket he saw and headed for the door.

“Finn,” Poe said. Finn turned to look at him. “It’s well over 90 degrees out there. I really doubt you need a jacket.”

“Shut up,” Finn said. He dodged BB-8 and fled.

***************************************

[Friend-Poe and Friend-Finn are well?] R2-D2 asked.

[More than well] BB-8 replied.

R2 beeped a sequence that indicated amusement. [Still at it?]

[I am thankful that my charging sequence involves powering down my sensors at night] BB said. [Biological life forms have very strong physical urges]

[Friend-Leia and Friend-Han were even worse] R2 told him. [I used to hide in the cargo hold on the Falcon]

BB-8 beeped his amusement. [Friend-Poe has never had a boyfriend before. Fleeting encounters but nothing permanent. It is good for him, I think]

[Friend-Finn is very good for him] R2 agreed. [Everyone likes Friend-Finn]

[Yes] BB replied. [Friend-Finn has been good for everyone. But I still like Friend-Poe best]

[tarisilmarwen]

Rebels Rewatch: "Iron Squadron"

Unexpected Sato backstory??? And other fun things!

Oh hey, the rare Star Wars planet that is not one single biome!

My son looking cutely contemplative. :)

Hera's the first to mention that Sato has "connections" here, and my brain automatically assumed family even before the reveal.

This freighter the kids are using is a YT-2400, which apparently was kind of a big deal to Legends fans because of some dude named Dash Rendar. This is not my area of lore expertise so I won't comment on that, but I will observe that if fanbros had an expectation of seeing that guy in this episode then it makes more sense why they got pissy when it was revealed the crew was upstart plucky kids instead.

Still, adult Star Wars fans really have got to stop mindlessly hating on teen/kid characters.

"They're attacking the Empire head on!" I mean, y'all have a Corellian freighter too and you do that all the time. I guess the YT-2400 looks way more civilian grade to them, no obvious modifications.

Why is Kanan in the turret, guys? Yeah yeah I know he has the Force to help him "see" but this is just... silly.

Hera still operating under the impression that it's a civilian ship. I mean technically it is but also you're in the Rebellion Hera, we literally just had an Imperial ace talk about how y'all use whatever ship that flies a few episodes ago lol.

You know the trick with the cargo crates is actually pretty clever. The YT-2400 obviously has very little actual armament aside from the one top gun, very easy to lull your enemy into thinking you're harmless.

Lol Zeb accurately calling that Iron Squadron is "a ship-full of Ezras".

I haven't commented on it before but sometimes Ezra just sits like such a typical teenager, using the furniture in all the wrong ways.

Big fan of the slightly vulnerable note in Sato's voice here.

Lol Ezra and Sabine's faces here.

"If you like a junk pile." "Be nice." A+ adorable banter moment, love it.

There goes Chopper antagonizing other droids again.

Mart is surly and grumpy and looks like a shaggy kitten and I love him. <3

Gooti trying to diffuse the tension in the room by offering waffles. Relatable.

Mart honestly sounds just a bit like Dark Side Drunk Ezra, the undernotes of anger in his voice, insisting that they have things under control and don't need help. Honestly it was kind of an amazing and interesting idea to put Ezra alongside a bunch of (slightly) younger kids a few rungs back on the character development ladder to contrast how much more mature he's gotten.

Mart confusing different Imperial ships for a Star Destroyer is also a great running gag. Sabine gets so annoyed lol.

Lothal still looking relatively pretty.

I would really like to praise Lars Mikkelson for making me creeped out by the most innocuous of scenes with Thrawn, all the man has to do is comment on Iron Squadron being interesting and mildly insult Konstantine and my skin crawls, ggughhhh.

Thrawn setting up lesser officers for failure again.

Relating to deliberately casting Ezra as the more mature one, it even extends to how they keep posing him this episode. He's not more than a year or two older than the Iron Squadron kids and yet he feels so much older in his bearing and manner of speaking.

The shoulder nudge and the way Sabine goes, "Hmm?" makes me think they're improving this on the fly.

I've joked before about this looking like a cute family photo but it's still true.

Spaceparents be skeptical lol.

Chopper just whacking the panel with hammer. XD

"This might be just a planet to you, but it's our home!" Hoo boy, that's the heart of it isn't it? Ezra has been through this exact thing. So he understands the instinct to dig in and fight back. But like Mon Mothma would later remind him in Season Four, you can't save every planet right away. Sometimes you have to retreat and regroup, and come back stronger later.

Sometimes you have to leave home.

It doesn't mean you don't fight. It just means you don't let your fear of loss make you stupid.

Once again leaning on that message of "How we choose to fight."

This is purely in the realm of headcanon but Mart's obsession with suicidally charging a Star Destroyer makes me think that might be how his father died, or something similar to it at least.

Gooti and Jonner sharing a look like, "Uhhhhhh maybe they have a point about our ship being way too small to take on the Empire alone."

Yeah, no, I'm sticking with my idea that Mart has just a little bit of a death wish and wants to go out taking revenge against the Empire that killed his father.

Precious little rage bean. <3

Sabine reminding Ezra not to get in trouble with Hera for disobeying orders again.

It's okay Sabine, he's learned that lesson lol.

Subtle animation appreciation moment: The sheer floof to Mart's hair. I can't believe how much volume it feels like has, just from the way it shifts around his head.

"I am all the family he has left." :((((

STILL SO MAD THAT WE NEVER GOT MART'S REACTION TO SATO'S SACRIFICE AT THE BATTLE OF ATOLLON.

Right, continuing with the Mart-is-literally-Ezra-from-a-couple-seasons-prior parallels, Mart's disbelief and delight at the Ghost coming back for him.

And Konstantine makes a really stupid decision in the effort to... idk, give himself more glory? He literally has enough ships and firepower to blow both freighters to bits and he insists on this showy mine trap move.

This is why Thrawn sent you by yourself, pal, he wanted to see if you'd croak.

Lol the Ghost took a potshot at the light cruiser as it was passing.

Chopper continuing in the grand habit of bullying other droids.

Ahhhhhhh Sato came! He was too far away to be able to get there on time and he came anyway!

HIS FACE.

Yeah uh, Konstantine? You should have known the mine plan would never have worked as soon as you lost signal contact with it. Also it's really stupid to let them get the ship that close to your cruiser before you try to detonate it.

Mart's little "...Oh." expression. <3 A+ running gag payoff, no complaints.

HNNNNNGGHHHHH YOU CAN'T JUST IMPLY THAT THRAWN AND SATO HAVE SOME KIND OF CONNECTION AND THEN NOT FOLLOW UP ON THAT. At least let us get some Sato backstory out of it, c'mon.

Thrawn calling Konstantine just to rub the embarrassment in.

THIS IS WHY HE DISOBEYED YOUR ORDERS AT ATOLLON DUDE. MAYBE NEXT TIME DON'T HUMILIATE YOUR UNDERLINGS BY DELIBERATELY SENDING THEM INTO SITUATIONS YOU KNOW THEY'LL BUNGLE.

Aw frick.

Don't think about the Kanan-Ezra parallels, don't think about the Kanan-Ezra parallels, don't think about the Kanan-Ezra parallels--

They're adorable.

And we couldn't let the episode close without getting one last gag in by way of Chopper rolling up to R3 and smacking him for no damn reason lololol.

I unironically love this episode and these kids. <3 Fandom was way too mean about this episode, why do y'all hate fun?

There are a few things introduced in this episode that really should have been picked back up and followed through on and yeah, a couple moments are a smidge cringe. But the humor is overall solid and sue me Mart Mattin is precious and I love the depth his existence adds to Sato. AND I WANTED SO MUCH MORE I DON'T CARE THAT I'M THE ONLY ONE WHO LOVES THEM I NEEDED MORE IRON SQUADRON.

*ahem* I'm normal about this episode. Soooo normal.

[b-radley66]

Chapters: 4/20 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ahsoka Tano/Original Character(s), Rae Sloane/Original Character(s), Qi’ra/Original Character (s), Original Character(s)/Original Character(s) Characters: Ahsoka Tano, Rae Sloane, Qi’ra, Morgan Elsbeth, Simon Greyshade, Shyla Merricope, Shaak Ti, Plo Koon (cameo), Mace Windu (Cameo), Yoda (cameo), Jame Blackthorn | Bryne Covenant | Taliesin Croft |Tempest (Original Character), Dani Faygan |Ishta (Original Character), Nola Vorserrie |Seoladen (Original Character), Meglann Florlin |Ina|Hammer (Original Character), Phygus Baldrick | Touchstone (Original Character), Null-13 | Drop | Tarre Tredecima |Balor (Original Character), Talle Tredecima | Orla (Original Character), Alyysina Faygan’ii na’ Torstan’ii |Serquet |Sina, Ano Lessi (Original Character), Delilah Sal |ISB-010 | The Untrusted Other (Original Character), Edan Kozume (Original Character), Sulen Gallamby (Original Character), Nathanaan Beten’ii (Original Character) Additional Tags: Hutt Cartels (Star Wars), Crimson Dawn, Nar Kanji, freedom fighting in the truest sense, Slavery, daring greatly, rebellion’s infancy, Love, love of the light, fighting slavery, Espionage, mild swindling in the service of the light, Family, Dysfunctional Family, Found Family, Polyamory, Corellian Family Values Series: Part 46 of Rise and Fight Again Summary:

World in Thrall! Ahsoka Tano, Bryne Covenant, and the other Links move to depose the new ruler of Nar Kanji, a Hutt apparently named Geddak, who is kin to an ally of Shyla Merricope’s, Geddan, who was executed for embezzlement on the orders of Ming Lardai. They intend to ally themselves with Kanjiklub, a criminal organization dedicated to freeing the slaves of Nar Kanji, while suborning Imperial officers such as Rae Sloane, and another criminal organization’s representative—Crimson Dawn’s Qi’ra. Along the way the deceptions they give rise to will imperil them all.

Just another day for them.

[avatarskywalker78]

OC Introduction - Isla Tinero-Antilles

MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU, DAY ONE: I'm One with the Force, and the Force is with Me

Taking to the skies to fly into battle with resistance fighters, wielding a lightsaber to avenge a friend that been harmed, or breaking an oath to protect those who can't protect themselves; May fourth is a day to honor the light side characters who can and cannot utilize the Force. Highlight their journey(s), their role(s) in the grand scheme of things, the impact(s) they've created on themselves and everyone around them, etc.

Born in 6BBY to Wedge Antilles and Mala Tinero, Isla's life was marred by tragedy from a young age when her mother, maternal grandfather, and several other relatives were killed by the Empire, Isla herself only surviving because Mala managed to hide her in an underground safe house. Nonetheless it was still twelve hours before anyone found her as they had to dig through the rubble to get to her, - this incident served as the final catalyst for Wedge to join the Rebellion, taking his daughter with him, though for her own safety she ended up smuggled to an Outer Rim world while he fought for the Alliance.

As a result, Isla didn't see much of her father, but she supported the Rebellion and was always frustrated that she couldn't do more to help, though she was determined that once she became a teenager she would find a way to help. But thankfully the main fighting ended before this and Isla rejoiced when the second Death Star was destroyed and the Emperor killed and she was able to reunite with her dad, and after the treaty was signed, she and Wedge settled on Hosnian Prime, and she was able to enjoy peace for the first time in her life. But she was still unsettled, the Corellian wanderlust still very much present, and she wanted to go out and explore the galaxy any way she could - eventually, years later, following in her father's footsteps and becoming a pilot, though she had no plans to become a fighter, instead just wanting to see the universe for herself.

This all changed when the First Order started making waves - although the New Republic didn't consider them a threat, Isla knew this could escalate, and signed up to join the Defense Fleet. A few years later tragedy struck her life again when Ben Solo turned Dark and slaughtered most of Luke Skywalker's Jedi students, and Mara, Nellith, and Reyana - people Isla knew and loved, people she considered family - were apparently killed as well. It was clear that the First Order was far more dangerous than anyone had realised and Isla - incensed at the lack of action from the New Republic - became part of the Resistance alongside her stepbrother Temmin Wexley, and by 34BBY holds the rank of Commander, having led multiple missions against the rising tyranny in the galaxy.

But the biggest threat is yet to come - and it won't be long before Isla comes face to face with the ghosts of her past...

Tagging (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @shrinkthisviolet @starstruckpurpledragon @daughter-of-melpomene

[defira85]

If Elissa were in SWTOR, who would she be?

OHHHH. Oh. Hmmm. That's a really good question.

I feel like the obvious answer given her sense of rebellion and feelings of inadequacy and the question about whether the vaguely supernatural inclinations of the Grey Wardens would count as a reflection of Force powers, I think the answer is this:

She is the daughter of a political dynasty, possibly Alderaanian, possibly Corellian, very powerful, very established within the Republic. Being a Senator is essentially an inherited position at this point in time, you know the sort. I specify Alderaan or Corellia in particular because it needs to be somewhere that the Empire hit hard and fast, causing the death of her family and the initial trauma at the outset like the Cousland origin

A Jedi a la Duncan is present to help save her, notices her latent Force abilities which were either too weak to warrant formal training as a child or her family paid to have the Jedi look the other way. Things are dire, Jedi numbers are in freefall with the ongoing war, she gets plucked out of the ruins of home and told "congratulations you're a Jedi now, go kill people for the Republic"

Which is to say I think she'd be the Jedi Knight storyline, dark-side aligned, but the DS JK is a bit too sassy and snarky for her in game so it'd be with caveats. It even makes sense that you get given a powerful assistant/padawan immediately in Kira, because that mirrors how Elissa had Alistair and Leliana propping her up or outright doing shit for her when she mentally retreated

[lakemojave]

This afternoon at 1:30pm pacific: Tales From the Rambler Episode 5!!!

DM'd by Bill @gabajoofs, starring Dot @radiofreederry as Janica Halcyon, Sebastian @lakemojave as Bhuri'Hssyngig, Jordan @brucebocchi as Ced Saverem, Heather @chansaw as Val Griv'ir, and Julia @thottacelli as Caitvuna Conu!

Art by @bijillion, recap under the cut! See y'all then!

THE STORY SO FAR: It has been years since the end of the Galactic Civil War. The New Republic struggles to rebuild the galaxy after decades of Imperial rule, locked in a cold war with the remnant Pentastar Alignment. All the while, in the dark corners of the galaxy, organized crime groups compete with each other to gain power in the galactic underworld after the collapse of the Hutt Cartel. Now, the crew of the transport ship the Rambler have been thrust into this gritty, cutthroat world...

LAST TIME: The crew of the Rambler gave chase to the assassin who had attacked the Jedi Journeyman who had spoken at the Coronet City parade, keeping pace as the assassin sped through crowds and even through traffic. After Janica and Bhuri emerged unscathed from a speeder crash, the crew confronted and subdued the assassin, who was aligned with Mas Amedda's Imperial Royalists. The Jedi arrived with Val, who had healed him of his wounds, and introduced himself as Oftun Ahrimaz before collecting the unconscious assassin and inviting the crew to a feast the next week to thank them for their help.

Back at HTS headquarters, Janica put Bhuri in a kolto tank before catching up over a drink with her mother. Caitvuna met up with a friend from the Rebellion at the local cantina as Ced finished repairing and reprogramming the HK droid he'd taken from Hoth. The droid, now named Hank, greeted Ced lovingly as his father. Janica visited the Toydarian used speeder salesman called "Wacky" Worro and purchased a pirate HoloNet array and a used speeder bike to tinker with, then returned home to finish the repairs to the Rambler. A week passed, in which the crew learned that Hank was fiendishly good at dejarik, and the crew dressed their best for dinner at the Corellian Jedi Temple. Janica and Bhuri were reunited with Wedge Antilles of Rogue Squadron at the dinner, and afterward, back at headquarters, the crew received a call from NRIS agent Mal Olrads, who hired them for a job which would take them to the town of Mos Shuuta, amidst the shifting sands of Tatooine...

[lajulie24]

1, 17, 30 for the fic asks!

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

This is a tough question, because I really do try to kind of mix things up in my fics these days, so there are a few examples that might work well as a starting point. But I think Cover Me is a good example of the early-relationship Han and Leia I try to write — a good team, friends before they become lovers, struggling a little with whether getting together is a good idea or not, but ultimately fitting together really well. And bonus Springsteen references, since, as we know, he is a popular Corellian singer and Han is a fan.

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even thought you might be the only person to appreciate it?

As far as an AU that basically takes Han and Leia and puts them into roles from another property, I’ve long wanted a Dirty Dancing AU. Maybe not the whole movie, maybe just the part where they finally admit their feelings for each other and then have a dance scene that turns into a love scene. Or maybe just Leia telling Han, “I’m doing all this to save your ass and what I’d really like to do is drop you on it!” Similarly I think a The Cutting Edge AU could be fun solely for Han and Leia being in “the ultimate love/skate relationship”. Also as I was thinking of this question I decided it would be really fun to put Han and Leia in an X-Files AU where they are two detectives in the GFFA solving X-Files mysteries (some of which are probably the work of a Sith Lord or random Force nonsense — I think Han might end up having to be the Scully sometimes in this scenario).

I’m not sure if I would categorize this as fully an AU so much as me just rejecting the post-ROTJ canon, but I have sort of daydreamed a post-ROTJ story where Leia decides fairly early on that being a politician and diplomat is great, but that she’s actually going to be more help to the ideals she and the Rebellion fought for if she takes a very different role. So she and Han (and maybe Luke, too, and Chewie when he’s not hanging out with his family) bum around the galaxy on the Falcon and she works on things like helping slavery liberation movements and supporting refugees and advocating alongside worlds who were especially devastated by the Empire to help them have a voice in the new government and get what they need. It kind of ends up being a Jedi thing except if the Jedi weren’t so chained to the Republic and had more leeway to help folks around the galaxy. They make use of Han’s contacts and skills and Leia studies to be a Jedi and every so often she hangs out with the Alderaanians to help them out too (although the Alderaanians also sort of make this their collective mission, too, once they are able to get a more stable foothold in the galaxy).

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

Several times! Even though I have written quite a bit of smut by now, it took me a long time before I tried it, and it’s always a little out of my comfort zone. As you know, I recently wrote smut that included some acts that…I hadn’t written about before and that made me go “OMG holy shit I cannot believe I actually wrote that” — in something in the way you move (makes me feel like I can’t live without you).

How did it affect my approach to writing thereafter? Well, I think each time I’ve tried something new, particularly in my out-of-my-comfort-zone smut writing, I’ve realized that the only way to do it is to just take yourself through it, step by step. I can’t think of it as “okay now I’m going to write Leia fucking Han” as a whole giant scene because that just makes me come to a complete stop. Depending on whose POV I’m writing, I’ve learned that the smut works better if I focus on what the POV character is noticing, what they’re feeling both physically and emotionally, and imagine each step they take in the scene (and skip over / gloss over steps that aren’t particularly relevant). Then it’s more real than movie-screen sex but not quite so real that we need to know every single detail like you would if you were doing this to someone in real life. And also, I found that when I wrote smut more often, I actually got better at it and liked writing it more.

Thank you kindly for the ask!

Fanfiction writer asks!