#x wing: the bacta war

[corelliaxdreaming]

Corran: I hate shorts.

Bro: On you, who'd notice?

Oh my GOD

[barstoolblues]

something that i couldn't stop thinking about while watching andor was how similar it was to a lot of legends/EU themes and storytelling (specifically 90s pre-prequels novels). Say what you will about EU canon but where it shined was its ability to explore the politics and life of a galaxy in a power struggle post-rotj, and while andor obviously takes place before that, the ethical dilemmas power struggles darker side of the rebellion/burgeoning new republic, oppression and colonization (NOT necessarily done well in the EU by white male 90s scifi authors lol but still explored in a way the live action sw did not) that are the meat of a lot of EU novels are very much present in andor in a way that we haven't seen on-screen or really in disney's new canon at all. I am not generally a fan of the new canon "EU" but i am excited with how andor is making an effort to flesh it out in a way clearly inspired by legends

[bornitereads]

The Bacta War - Michael A. Stackpole

X-Wing series book 4

Read: Jun 2023

I bought this one new because I wasn't having any luck finding it at the used bookstores in my city. I had never read it before despite having read a lot of the early X-Wing books back in the late 1990s. I gotta say, and I've said it before, the "Legends" reprints are so nice. Like just a nice book physically. So good job Del Rey.

This is the last book of the first arc of the X-Wing series. There is a second story arc and then I think it moves into stand alone novels. I was kind of surprised at this one. I feel like the main villian was kind toned down here so it the arc could be wrapped up in this book. And I didn't appreciate the politics involved, the story politics to be clear. Like there was an explanation for everything. But I thought they were rather silly, and only really for added tension and not for worldbuilding or plot progression. All in all this wasn't one of my favourite entries in the series. It was an okay wrap up to what had been so far a really good story arc.

Info: Del Rey; 1997

[wantonwinnie]

The Bacta War Review

7/10. About halfway through I was feeling “eh,” and while it got better toward the back half, I think it still warrants a lower score than I have usually given for Star Wars books so far. I have a lot to say on this one because I'll be covering the first three books in the series a bit, as well.

To preface, I generally like canon better than a lot of the older legends stuff, but I still enjoy much what I’ve read so far (I also loved playing the KOTOR games). My main experience, albeit limited, is the first four novels of the X Wing series, and overall they were great! I really like the first three (Rogue Squadron, Wedge’s Gamble, The Krytos Trap). However, I think this one kinda suffers when compared to those.

Since they’re all a part of the same series, I’ll talk about what I liked in the first three. Rogue Squadron had excellent starfighter combat and engaging tactical discussion; Wedge's Gamble had interesting military strategy and related controversy, as well as espionage; The Krytos Trap, perhaps my favorite in the series, had questions about judicial policy, mysteries related to Isard and Corran, and Imperial subterfuge.

This begets a problem for The Bacta War – it has to wrap up whatever was left after The Krytos Trap, which wasn't much, without starting much new stuff. Most of the important mysteries were already resolved, including Corran's past, the main betrayal, and Isard's plans. And it’s totally okay to just want to continue the story with another fun adventure! Not every book will keep the same mysteries going, and the payoffs in Krytos made that a stalwart favorite of mine. People will read for the characters they came to know and love, which is totally cool.

__________________________________________________

Spoiler from here on

However, that leaves me in a weird position. I like the characters just fine, but I don't have the same attachments to them as maybe others do, nor do I find them especially compelling. Corran is courageous, cunning, talented, and charming, but is also just an ex-cop who half the time is lamenting Booster Terrik as a hardened criminal or whatever. Booster himself is fun but straight-foward. Mirax is fun but ultimately felt like Corran's love interest more than her own character in this installment. Wedge is Wedge – hardened fighter who always gets the job done. I liked Ooryl and exploring the Gand culture.

That brings me to the main problem – while it didn't need to start anything new, I think it lost a lot of the political dimensions that made Wedge's Gamble and Krytos so awesome. Maybe it wanted to return to Rogue Squadron's focus on space combat or something, I don't know. But I was pretty disappointed in the lack of attention in the 12-hour (audiobook) read to interesting political questions that got asked and were left unanswered by the story (other than to say that they're irrelevant). I mean, they mention the New Republic can't get directly involved because that would be a violation of Thyferra's sovereignty, thus leading to other worlds leaving the NR. This is stated as fact without the perspectives of the Provisional Council or Thyferran people, and even less, barely weighs on any of the characters (and why would they care when they already decided it was a worthwhile venture?). Of course, the in-universe angle justifies itself; Isard is definitely evil, and making sure she doesn't control the Bacta cartel (+ liberating the Vratix from human oppression) is undoubtably good. But Rogue Squadron doesn't have to worry about sovereignty, and they honestly barely care about liberating enslaved workers (it’s more about Isard = evil). And that makes sense. But since we are only given their perspective, we never develop the political issues involved here.

Moreover, after defeating Isard, the establishment of a new government is an afterthought in the story and pretty fucking simple somehow. It’s literally turn the page and now Thyferra has a provisional government joining the New Republic. Blink and you'll miss it.

I think the most dimension The Bacta War gets is from the economic disruption of Isard's bacta supply, which is interesting, and definitely necessary to make the book a more worthwhile read.

I don't feel like the major characters had much development in their story arcs here. Corran is slightly more aware of his force abilities, though highly limited. He and Mirax grow closer. Corran gets over Booster a bit. Wedge gets more tired. Tycho tries to let go of his past trauma for a bit. That said, I don't think the characters are the strong-suit.

Speaking of, diversity is a big issue in this book (as with the first three, where most of the characters started). It’s human-centric, which isn't a big deal (Andor was probably the best show Star Wars has made yet, and that had an extreme lack of non-humans). However, this installment was even more human-centric than the others in terms of the characters given sufficient time, though non-humans were still relevant (Vratix, Ooryl). But more important – I was BEGGING for some non-white humans. I mean, holy shit. Corran? White. Wedge? White. Mirax? Booster? White. Isard? White. Tycho? White. Iella Wessiri? White. Gavin Darklighter? White. Pash Cracken? White. Elscol Loro? White. I just named almost all the major characters in this novel (and many are major to the first three).

There are exceptions (Wookiepedia doesn't say the skin tones of humans Erisi Dlarit or Fliry Vorru, who are both major characters, and Winter is described as "tan," though she's a minor character). I don't want to belabor this point, but I think it’s an important one. The author could have stood to make a few more non-white characters in the first place, especially considering how many non-legacy character options there were. And I've always thought it was so weird that, with Luke Skywalker being a white man, and Wedge Antilles being a white man, the author decided to make the titular character of the series (Corran Horn)... another white man? Not to mention the second new and important character, Tycho, another white man? I think we have enough of those in Rogue Squadron alone to cover our bases here lol. I can only speak for myself (another white man), but I have to imagine it’s difficult for non-white readers to see themselves in this series and especially this installment.

Of course, any relationship or potential relationship in this series is depicted as heterosexual, and all the characters have binary pronouns, though I never had any expectations in that regard. I'm really spoiled by The High Republic and other modern canon books, because those do a much better job than 1990s legends, which is both hopeful and unsurprising.

So, ultimately, how did I feel about this novel? I think the most important question for any novel is: did I have fun while reading it? Yes, I did. The space combat was exhilarating, tense, and surprising; the tactical questions were interesting; and the story had its moments. I don't feel like I wasted my time reading it. However, at the end of the day, I think it’s pretty, erm, skippable. It’s another story with the same characters, and I totally jive with that, but I think the missing elements made it a bit of a letdown compared to the first three books, which got better with each successive one.

I think next on my list is either the Doctor Aphra audiobook or Shatterpoint.

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Hello :) if your requests are still open:

This is my first time requesting something so please ignore this if I‘m doing something wrong.

I saw the 150 Random Writing Prompts and was thinking of a jealous Hunter smut. (Or Echo, if you find it more fitting)

With

143.: “Are you trying to turn me on or are you really just that oblivious?”

And if it’s ok ( I could not decide, sorry)

97.: if you interrupt me one more time— so help me god”

93.: say you want me, and i’m yours.”

Thanks 🙏🏻 You are an awesome writer!✨

Thank you so much for the request, anon! You did nothing wrong at all! I was able to work in all three, but I’m incapable of writing anything short, so this is kinda long - oops. Hope you like it! <3

Bonus point if you spot the Taylor Swift lyric I managed to weave in!

Green Doesn’t Suit You

With the whole squad safely back on Pabu, you settle into a comfortable civilian life. But the yearly Celestialis festival, said to bring good fortune for the next year to those who attend, brings with it something you never thought you’d have.

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Word count: 6.5k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!

Warnings: jealousy, friends to lovers, pet names, old lady shoving her oar in, Omega is a fantastic wing-woman, confessions of love, first kiss together, squint for possessiveness, being (lovingly) manhandled, first time together, oral (f!receiving), unprotected PiV, dirty talk, soft aftercare, all the fluffy feels.

The air was stifling, not only from the heat outside but the warmth emanating from both ovens in the kitchen of your new home on Pabu.

The house had been a gift – the fanciest gift you’d ever received – from Shep and the other island residents. A thank you for all the hard work you, the boys, and Omega had put into rebuilding their island after the freak tsunami.

All seven of you, living together in a space infinitely bigger than the Marauder or your old barracks. It was heaven.

“We still need to get those tanks moved.” Omega grumbled, grabbing a clean tray and loading it with the latest batch of cooled cookies you’d made. In the sitting room, just visible through the kitchen doorway, were two bacta tanks. Where Phee had managed to procure them from was still a mystery, but they’d saved Crosshair and Tech’s lives after you, Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker had stormed Mount Tantiss to rescue Omega and the twins. The brothers had been worse for wear – it was still a miracle Tech had survived his fall.

“I’ll speak to Phee in the morning.” You added it to your mental list, skirting around an open cabinet door.

Today was the Celestialis festival, where Pabu’s residents came together to wish for good fortune for the year ahead. Once Shep and the island’s organising committee had caught wind of how good your baking skills were, they’d pulled you into the fray. For weeks, you’d been planning and purchasing ingredients and trying different recipes. And for the last few days, you’d been baking all hours of day and night – with varying levels of assistance from Omega and her brothers.

Four years ago, when the war had broken out, you’d signed up as a civilian handler. Fresh out of college and with nothing lined up, it had seemed like a good idea. While other handlers stayed on Kamino and supported their squads from a distance, the moment you’d read the files for Clone Force 99, you’d known that you’d need to be at their side constantly. They had a habit of veering off track, and handling that from afar would only give you a permanent migraine. So, after signing a hefty waiver with the Kaminoans, you’d been handed some armour, a blaster, and directions to the hangar.

Three years, you’d fought alongside them, learning the best ways to manage them and their unique skill set, building bonds and friendships far deeper and more meaningful than anything you’d ever had before. This last year, since Order 66, had brought its own challenges, too, but it has also brought you Omega.

Grabbing another tray from a cupboard, you pass it over to the young girl, watching as she loads it up with more cookies. Sweat beads on the nape of your neck, and you sigh, lifting your hair to try and get some air to it.

Omega, forever perceptive, abandons the cookies to help tie your hair back. From a small pot on the counter, she goes to grab a hairband, but at the last minute, you redirect her to the strip of fabric that sits nearby, the two of you sharing a look.

It’s another hour before you’re ready to leave for the festival. The boys had headed out mid-afternoon to help set up, taking their dressier clothes with them to spare themselves the walk back to the house and to not get in your way as you finished up. As infuriating and stubborn as they could all be at times, their thoughtfulness was unparalleled.

Dragging wagons laden with treats up to the central plaza, you and Omega work quickly to lay out all the goodies on the tables Shep had set aside for you. You hoped there would be enough for everyone, especially as other food was on offer, too. Stepping back from the tables, you take a deep breath.

“Finally left the kitchen, eh?” Echo teases as he approaches, the rest of the boys in tow. He’d tried to help as best as he could over the last few days, but baking with one hand had been less than ideal. Ultimately, he’d sat at the kitchen table and kept you going with conversation and caff breaks. And he’d chased Hunter off a few times when that keen nose of his had brought him sniffing around for treats to ‘sample.’

You watch as Omega passes a star-shaped cookie over to Wrecker, and the delight on the big man’s face as he devours it fills you with pride. “If I step foot in that kitchen again at any point in the next two weeks, please shoot me.” You joke, the corners of your lips curling into a smile.

“Deal.” Crosshair teases, toothpick sliding to the other side of his mouth as he reaches for a Roonan lemon cookie. His appetite hadn’t returned much since his rescue from Mount Tantiss and time in the bacta tank, but he was trying to eat a little more each day so you wouldn’t worry about him.  

“Hey!” You protest playfully, the boys chuckling as Crosshair takes a small bite, throwing you a wink. Light conversation flows between you all, broken up by the occasional island resident swinging by for some treats. The music starts, and more residents arrive, joining the festival’s spirit, dancing together and laughing.

Hunter can’t keep his eyes off you. For the last four years, he’s seen you in blacks and armour, with the recent addition of sweatpants around the house, and yet now you’re in a dress. A light and airy thing with delicate straps that cross over your shoulders, the fabric cinched in at your waist to accentuate the soft curves of your body. He’s sure it’s the same shade of aqua that paints his pauldrons, too. The thought has a strange sensation sweeping through his gut.

The sound of someone calling your name snatches his attention and drags his thoughts back to the present. As you turn towards the person calling for you, he can’t help but steal the opportunity to admire you. Eyes raking up your bare legs, across your hips and ass that he’s imagined grasping many times, over the smooth plane of your back to the curve of your neck and then…

The entire galaxy might as well cease to exist as his mind goes blank.

Wide brown eyes lock onto the scrap of red fabric keeping your hair up, and that strange sensation in his gut slams into him again. There, holding your hair up, is one of his spare bandanas.

His heart races, thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. A torrent of emotions surges within him. He wants to reach out to you, to pull you close and finally tell you how much you mean to him, but he holds himself back. He can't bear the thought of you not returning the sentiment. Maybe it had just been an accident. Maybe his bandana had been the closest thing available.

In the silence of his thoughts, he missed you excusing yourself to talk with one of the island’s elderly residents, who’d been calling you over.

“Smooth.” Crosshair deadpans, gaze flicking to Hunter as they watch you go, the rest of their siblings distracted by the food and music.

The slink of his brother’s voice pulls Hunter from his thoughts, and he frowns in Crosshair’s direction. “What?” He asks. They’d worked hard to reconcile ever since Crosshair had been deemed stable enough to leave the bacta tank – they’d broached difficult topics and mended a few bridges as they worked towards getting back to what they’d had before the Order had been given. It was slow and, at times, painful, but neither of them was willing to give up on each other again.

“You were staring at her like she’s pure aurodium. Not that I blame you…” Hawkish eyes slide towards Hunter, a smirk tugging at Crosshair’s lips as he watches his brother’s jaw clench and his head tilt, a hardness settling across his features.

Crosshair lets out a low chuckle, enjoying the slight rise he’d secured. “Green doesn’t suit you, vod.” He tosses the comment before snatching up a few more of your baked treats, striding away in search of a quiet place to perch. Crowds still bothered him, but he didn’t want to avoid the gathering altogether and feel like even more of an outcast.

Across the plaza, you’d reached Mrs. Magiere. The elderly lady had lived on the island for years and had slowly convinced her family to move across the galaxy and join her. She wandered the island around lunchtime, and you’d often crossed paths, sharing polite conversation.

Beside her stood an unfamiliar man. “There you are, dear. I want to introduce you to my grandson, Dax.” Mrs. Magiere reached for your hand, drawing you closer.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Dax.” You offered the man a smile. He was a little taller than you, with a slender build, perfectly coifed brown hair and piercing green eyes.

Dax tries to keep his gaze on your face, but his eyes betray him for a moment as he takes all of you in. You’re quite lovely, he must admit. “And you. My grandmother speaks very fondly of you.” He replies.

Mrs. Magiere looks between you both with glee. “Why don’t you two go and dance? My old bones can’t keep up anymore.” One of her hands finds your lower back, and she gives you a gentle nudge towards Dax.

Warmth sweeps across your cheeks caught off guard and a little uncomfortable, but Dax offers you a reassuring smile and his hand. Not wanting to cause a scene or upset anyone, you take it, letting him lead you towards the plaza’s centre where couples and families are dancing. He stops en route, snagging a delicate pink flower from one of the blossoming vines nearby. With careful hands, he slides it into your hair, leaning back to admire you.

“And here I thought you couldn’t be any more beautiful.” The compliment comes naturally to Dax as he retakes your hand, leading you to a small available spot amongst the dancing island residents.  

The warmth in your cheeks grows, and all you can offer Dax is a small smile as he twirls you into his arms once you are amongst the crowd. Laughing softly, you let him lead, the few dance classes you’d taken at college helping you keep up with him.

“You did a wonderful job with the baked goods.” Dax lays another compliment on you, enjoying your bashful smile.

It felt good to be appreciated for all your hard work preparing for this evening, especially by those outside of your little family. “Thank you. What did you like the most?”

Turmoil rolls through Dax. Truth told, he hadn’t sampled any of the treats you’d so lovingly prepared, but he knew it was essential to compliment you. “The oat ones were delicious.” He takes a stab in the dark.

Your smile falters briefly before you fix it back into place. “I’m glad.” You lie in return, not pointing out that you hadn’t made oat cookies.

Standing off at the side of the plaza, it took no time for Hunter to find you amongst the crowd. Over the years, he’d memorised the sound of your heartbeat and the delicate whisper of your voice as the light breeze carried it to him. His eyes found you, and his brows furrowed as he watched you gracefully twirl in the arms of another man, a torrent of emotions churning within him. Jealousy, like a venomous snake, coiled around his heart, injecting poison into his every thought.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. The woman he loved, whose smile could light up his darkest days, was now smiling at someone else. Insecurity gnawed at him, an unpleasant feeling he thought he’d long buried during his cadet days.

He longed to be the one guiding you across the dance floor, holding you as though you were the most precious thing in the galaxy. The realisation that someone else was experiencing that privilege grated on him.

“I don’t like him.” Omega’s voice snapped Hunter from his spiralling thoughts, and he glanced down to see her standing at his side, her own eyes watching you and the unfamiliar man dance.

“Hm, neither do I.” Hunter comments, arms crossed over his chest as he watches you twirl again.

It was no secret to Omega how much you and Hunter loved one another, and she was getting tired of neither of you doing anything about it. “Then, why don’t you go dance with her?” She asked, injecting as much innocence into her voice as she could muster, wide eyes turning up to look at her brother.

Hunter sighed. Omega had a point – he could quickly end this torture.

“Mind if I cut in?” The smoky rasp of Hunter’s voice interrupted your dance, and you turned towards him, offering him a bright smile.

The smile Dax had been wearing dissipated, a faint clench to his jaw as he shook his head while the music changed to something softer. “Not at all.” He lied, taking his hands from you. His grandmother had told him about the man who’d interrupted, with half of his face shrouded in darkness, and had warned him that you were close. Not willing to go easily, Dax lifted one of your hands to his lips, holding your gaze as he pressed a kiss to the back of it before stepping away a small distance. He’d wait nearby for another turn.

Your bright smile turned a little uneasy as Dax pressed a kiss to your hand, but relief had your shoulders sagging as Hunter stepped forward, sliding one arm around your waist to pull you close, your hand resting on his shoulder. He took your other hand with his free one, fingers interlacing. “Thank you for the save.” You murmured gratefully, knowing that with his hearing, you didn’t need to raise your voice to be heard above the music.

“Always.” Hunter’s answer leaves no room for doubt as he gently leads, moving you both in a slow sway. He can’t help but revel in your closeness. Every touch, every brush of your hand against his, feels electrifying, making his heart race with desire. Your warm body is pressed to his, his senses overwhelmed with you.

Warmth and security flood your body with the press of Hunter’s hand on your lower back, igniting a desire to be even closer. The rest of the galaxy can’t reach you here, tucked safely in his arms, and for a moment, you allow yourself to forget about everything that’s happened over the last four years – all the pain and bloodshed, all the horrors and tears. Through it all, Hunter has been a steady presence.

As you sift through the good memories, certain moments stand out. There was that day at the lake on Kintan, where the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The two of you had sat side by side, another successful mission under your belt, your laughter dancing in the air. You remember stealing glances at him, the way the sunlight had caught in his eyes, adding more warmth than you thought possible to those endless pools of brown.

Then there were the late-night conversations while you were deep in hyperspace, where you’d lose track of time, sharing dreams, fears, and secrets. Hunter’s voice, soft yet determined, painted a vivid picture of what he wanted from life after the war.

You could only hope those wants had changed.

Hunter drew his senses in, letting the crowd in the plaza fade into the background as he focused on you, the steadiness of your heartbeat, the feel of your hand in his and your bodies pressed together, and the subtle change to your scent. “You smell different.” He comments, curious eyes finding yours.

“If anyone else said that to me, I’d stomp on their foot.” You laugh, a little caught off guard by the statement. “I…” You trail off, the warmth that had faded from your cheeks now returning. “I stopped wearing perfume while knee-deep in the war, but now we’re out the other side of it. I thought I might try it again.” You admit, head dipping bashfully, before worry laces through you. “Is it too much? I aimed for something I hoped wouldn’t bother you and your senses.”

Lips parting at your answer, Hunter blinks with disbelief. Here you were in a sweet little dress, one of his bandanas keeping your hair up, and now you’d dropped on him that you were wearing a perfume picked out with his heightened senses in mind. He groans, desire churning through his veins. “Are you trying to turn me on, or are you really just that oblivious?” 

Freezing, you think for a moment that you’ve misheard him. “What?” You question softly.

Hunter realises his mistake, but it’s too damn late to take the words back. 

In the following pause, neither of you moving, simply staring at one another, Dax spots his opportunity and steps forward. “Can I cut back in?”

Hunter has to actively stop himself from grunting in frustration at the interruption. “We’re not done.” He tells him politely, making sure to keep his eyes on you. He knows he has to say something to you. “Cyar’ika, I…”

Dax huffs, finding it unfair that this man had swooped in and stolen you mid-dance and refused to let him back in. “Look, bud-“

Something snaps in Hunter, and his head whips to the side, eyes narrowing at the man you’d been dancing with. “If you interrupt me one more time, so help the Maker…” He growls out the threat, no longer caring that he’s being rude. This was too important. You were too important.

Your jaw drops, and you watch in disbelief as Hunter threatens Dax. Your heart races, and for a moment, the tension in the air is palpable. Dax, a bit taken aback by Hunter’s sudden intensity, raises his hands in a placating gesture.

“Whoa, whoa, man.” Dax stammers, realising he’s pushed Hunter’s patience to the limit. He steps back, allowing some space between him and the seething clone.

Hunter takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, regaining his composure. He turns back to you, his eyes softening as he tries to find the right words. "Cyar'ika, I'm sorry. It’s just... I need to talk to you.”

Your heart still races, but now it’s not just from the tension between the two men. You look into Hunter’s eyes searchingly. “What is it?” you ask, your voice filled with concern.

Keeping hold of your hand, Hunter leads you away from the crowd, finding a quiet corner of the plaza where you can talk in peace. The silence lingers for a few minutes as he struggles to find the right words, scrubbing his free hand over his face, having never anticipated this moment would come. 

Unable to bear seeing him so stressed, you step closer, resting a hand against his chest. His heart thuds heavy under your palm. “H…” You breathe the little nickname you’d given him shortly after joining them all those years ago, which breaks him out of his funk. 

“You’re a kaleidoscope of everything beautiful in this galaxy.” He blurts out, catching you off guard. “Your kindness, the way you listen, how you look after everyone around you — you’ve had me captivated since the day you waltzed onto the Marauder like you owned the damn thing and introduced yourself. And now, it’s terrifying to think of my life without you in it.” Once the words start, he can’t stop them.

“And I know we’ve been friends for years, and I value that more than anything in the galaxy. But seeing him dance with you and thinking of him doing it again…” Hunter huffs, trying desperately not to get worked up. “I mean, cyar’ika, the colour…” He gestures to your dress with his free hand. “And you’re using my bandana to keep your hair up, and you picked out a perfume with me in mind...” He trails off, knowing he’s shared so much that he can’t return from it, but Maker does it feel good to get the weight off his shoulders.

A small smile weaves onto your lips, even though you know you shouldn’t be happy, given the man you love is clearly stressed. “What if I told you none of it was accidental?” You murmur, your hand on his chest smoothing across the firm plane of muscle. “That you didn’t misplace your right pauldron the other week – I borrowed it to colour match. And I purposefully asked Omega to use your bandana earlier when she was tying up my hair.” You confess, eyes darting up to watch as surprise paints itself on his handsome features.

“You know, I’ve spent countless nights replaying moments in my head, wondering if you ever picked up on how my heart races when you’re near or how I can’t keep my eyes off you when we’re together. I didn’t want to make things awkward or ask for something neither of us could give in the middle of a war. But we’ve made it out the other side, so…” It’s your turn to trail off.

Your words hung in the air, and Hunter’s heart began to race, his body swirling with so many emotions it was difficult to grasp onto any of them. A rush of warmth surged through him, from the tips of his fingers to the depths of his soul. Gazing into your eyes, all he finds is pure, unwavering honesty. Your sincerity was a balm to his fears.

Hunter’s silence unnerves you, but you’re not backing out now. Not when the promise of something so much sweeter is tantalisingly close. “Say you want me, and I’m yours.” You whisper.

Hunter’s gaze never wavers from yours, and a flicker of relief crosses his eyes as he realises that this isn’t a cruel joke or an illusion. It’s real. The tension between you seems to crackle with anticipation as he takes a deep breath, finally finding the words he’s been searching for. “I’ve wanted you since the day you walked onto the Marauder.” He admits softly, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “I’ve tried to be strong, to protect you and the rest of the squad, to not let my feelings get the better of me. But I can’t deny it any longer. I want you with every beat of my heart, every breath I take.”

His confession sends a shiver down your spine, and you can feel the intensity of his desire in the way he holds you and the way he looks at you. There’s no turning back now.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Hunter leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. The world around you fades into obscurity, and it’s just the two of you finally giving in to the magnetic pull that has existed between you for so long. The kiss is a promise, a declaration of all the unspoken feelings and desires built up over the years.

As your lips parted, Hunter rested his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged with emotion. “I want you, and I’m yours.” He whispers, his voice filled with love and longing.

A radiant smile spreads across your face, and you reply, “I’m yours too, Hunter. Always.”

His smile matches your own as he pulls back a little, though his fingers remain on your face, now stroking across your jawline. “Want to get out of here?”

Teeth sinking into your lower lip, you nod. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Hunter’s eyes twinkle with excitement and relief as he takes your hand and leads you away from the plaza, slipping down side streets towards your home. As you walk hand in hand, you can feel the electric connection between you two, a spark that has finally ignited into a full-blown flame.

Halfway there, Hunter pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your waist as he tucks you against the side of a building, his lips finding yours. His kisses are hungry, filled with longing and desire, as if he’s been waiting forever for this moment. And in truth, he feels like he has.

As the kiss breaks, your laughter echoes in the stillness of the night, smile as bright as the stars above as he disentangles from you, drawing you out of the shadows and back towards the house. As you reach the front door, he stops, his free hand moving to your hair, plucking the flower from Dax free. Carelessly, he drops it to the floor.

“Hunter!” You exclaim, watching the delicate bloom hit the pebbled path beneath your feet.

Something dark shines in his eyes, sending a thrill through you. “The only things in your hair should be my bandana,” his hand reaches for your ponytail, giving it a gentle tug as he leans in, lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “Or my hands.”

Breath catching, Hunter’s lips meet yours for a passionate kiss. The front door is pushed open, and you’re guided inside, steady hands grasping at your hips as he kicks the door shut behind you both.

Heart thudding as both of Hunter’s hands cup your face; you sink into his touch as his tongue slides between your lips, tasting you. He leads you up the stairs, refusing to break the kiss for even a moment as you reach his room. One hand leaves your face to push the bedroom door shut, and a moment later, you’re pressed up against it, Hunter’s body pining you in place, an arm resting on the door above your head, caging you in. That earlier sense of safety creeps back through you.

Tearing his lips from yours, Hunter’s chest heaves with each breath, a fire licking its way through his veins as you both open your eyes, gazing at one another for a split second. His head dips, mouth leaving a trail of delicate kisses along your throat, groaning as you tilt to give him better access, the prettiest moan sliding from your lips as he laves a kiss to the juncture where your shoulder and neck meet, following it with a quick, gentle nip.

Knees shaking, your fingers find the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one until you can push the fabric off his body. The rough pads of his fingers drag across your bare thighs, breath stuttering as the hem of your dress meets his grasp. He breaks contact just long enough to lean back and lift the garment over your head, letting it fall to the floor.

“Fuck…” Hunter curses quietly, eyes roving over your exposed body, the curves and dips of your frame, the swell of your bare breasts. A needy groan escapes him as he realises your panties match the dress, too.

Before self-consciousness can creep in, he’s dragging you to the bed with a hungry kiss, pushing you back onto it, kiss breaking as your back meets the soft mattress. For a moment, you both pause, drinking the other in. There’s a wildness in Hunter’s eyes you’ve never seen before, a warmth in your cheeks at how his eyes devour you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times – while sparring or coming out of the fresher, changing, or patching up wounds, but now you can look.

His broad shoulders taper to his narrow waist, and his tanned, toned skin begs to be touched. Half of him is shrouded in black ink, and a burning desire to drag your nails over the ridges of his abs has you licking your lips.

Hunter’s not faring much better, either. The sight of you sprawled on his bed in nothing but a scrap of aqua fabric, lips kiss-swollen, his bandana still in your hair, and your gorgeous tits exposed has him itching to fuck you on every surface, to fill the room with the scent of your arousal and make you scream his name over and over again. “Don’t mind me, just enjoying the view.” Hunter breaks the momentary silence, reaching down to palm himself through his pants.

The action draws your gaze downwards, and you watch delightfully as the man you love gives himself a stroke through the fabric.

Hunter’s nostrils flare, picking up on how the simple action drew more of your heady scent from between your thighs. At the foot of the bed, he slowly sinks down onto his knees, eyes never once leaving you. If you smell that delicious, he can only imagine how you’ll taste.

Propped up on your forearms, you watch as Hunter sinks down between your thighs, those warm brown eyes focused solely on you. Fingers skim up your calves, feather-light, gently pressing your legs wider as they reach your knees. His head turns inwards, gazes breaking as he presses soft kisses to your thighs, tongue leaving small, slow licks in their wake. He takes his time savouring you, savouring the moment.

Lips brush across the juncture between your thigh and hip, sucking small marks against your skin before Hunter buries his face against your clothed pussy, eyes shut as he presses his nose against your clit, inhaling deeply. Your scent pulls a low growl from him, the vibrations making you gasp. “So wet already. I’ll take good care of you, I promise.” Hunter vows, tongue pressing forward to lick across the damp fabric of your panties, making your breath stutter at the contact as your head thunks back down onto the mattress, eyes screwing shut.

Fingers prying the material down your legs, Hunter dives back between your thighs, dragging the flat of his tongue through your soaked folds, delighting in the way your hips buck and you cry out. He was right; you taste even more delicious than you smell, and he groans at your tang on his tongue.

Drawing your legs over his shoulders, he settles in, licking long, broad strokes across your pussy, familiarising himself with you. His senses home in on you, mind cataloguing every slight noise you make, every jerk of your hips, the way your breath quickens when his tongue skirts oh so close to your entrance and then circles around your clit.

Needy little whines escape you, every nerve in your body alight as Hunter teases you, lips and tongue exploring you, his nose bumping against your clit to send sparks of desire surging through you. Warmth pools in your belly, and it only grows as the wet warmth of his tongue presses against your entrance, dipping in. “Hunter…” You moan out his name, fingers burrowing into his hair as you cant your hips, grinding against his face.

Pride blooms in Hunter’s chest at your response, and he keeps going a little longer before he flicks his tongue up and across your clit, the sounds of your cries of delight like music to his ears. Hands grasping at your thighs, he presses your legs up, almost folding you in half as his tongue sweeps side to side, teasing his way back down your pussy as he has greater access.

The change in angle makes you moan, free hand clawing at the sheets while your hips rock, chasing the delight of his mouth. A light suck on your clit makes you gasp, the warmth in your belly building with every swipe of his talented tongue. Dragging his tongue around the edge of your folds, he draws an arch, skirting around the top of your clit again. “Hunter, please.” You crack, desperate for him.

You feel him smile against you, releasing one of your thighs, fingers roaming up your body until his tattooed hand gently squeezes one of your breasts. His mouth is relentless, tongue finding your clit, firmly moving side to side over the sensitive bud as those talented fingers of his tweak your pebbled nipple.

The warmth crescendos, spilling over, and you cry out his name as your release slams into you, making your body shudder, gasping for breath at its intensity.

Hunter works you through the high, and as you whine at the overstimulation, his mouth leaves you, fingers letting go of your nipple to smooth over the soft skin of your breast. “Beautiful.” He whispers reverently, tongue darting out to lick his lips and drink up the taste of you as he watches you come down from the high, your heavy-lidded eyes opening to meet his gaze.

With your hand in his hair, you guide him up your body, small hums of delight leaving you as he peppers kisses across your stomach and chest, laving little licks across your breasts as he drags you further up the bed. He breaks away for a second, using one hand to remove his belt and shuck off his pants.

You watch as he strips completely, acres of tanned skin finally revealed. As he ditches his boxers, his hard cock springs free, and your tongue darts out to wet your lips, thighs parting a little wider. You relish the low groan the action pulls from him before he takes himself in hand, fist sliding along his shaft for a few pumps. He’s average in length but thicker than you expected - anticipation coils through you.

He prowls up the bed, settling above you, letting a little of his weight rest against you. Dark eyes meet yours, and you can’t hold back your smile, fingers reaching up to trace along his face. Drawing his head down, you steal a kiss, letting the moment build as your eyes flutter shut, tongues brushing together. Hunter shifts above you, resting his weight on one hand while the other dips between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his cock as he teases the velvety head through your soaked folds. Achingly slowly, he presses forward, your lips parting as you let out a soft moan at the stretch as he eases into you inch by inch.

“That’s it, cyar’ika. Maker, you’re so pretty, taking all of me like a good girl.” He whispers against your lips, enjoying how your breathing changes and your heart races at his words. You feel like heaven as he bottoms out, hips flush against you, chests pressed together as his hand moves back to the side of your head, redistributing his weight.

The stretch as Hunter fills you is exquisite, and your eyes open to gaze up at him in awe that this is happening – that this incredible man is yours. The first slow roll of his hips has your head tilting backwards, a breathy sigh filling the room.

The pace builds, your hands reaching for him, dragging up his back and down his flanks, nails scraping along flushed skin, making him grunt at the combination of pleasure and pain. Desire coils through you, building with every thrust of his hips, every drag of his cock as he pulls out to the tip and pushes back in. He leans down to kiss you, demanding tongue sliding between your lips to taste you.

“You’re so good for me, so fucking good around me. Made for me.” Hunter growls and the sound of your bodies meeting creates a background of white noise. “Won’t last long, baby. You feel too good. Fucking dreamed of this.” He adds, supporting his weight with one hand again, thrusts never faltering as he reaches down to grasp one of your legs, hauling it up. He presses a kiss to your ankle before he pushes your leg towards your chest, the change in angle enabling him to thrust into you even deeper.

Eyes falling shut once again as he drives you closer to the edge, you whine and whimper as his cock repeatedly rubs against your g-spot. The hand he’d used to pry your leg up moves to your breast, fingers tweaking your pebbled nipple again before he gently squeezes. Your name falls from his lips, raspy alongside his command. “Come for me.”

Between his hands, cock, and voice, you’re powerless to resist. Fingers scrambling at his body for purchase, your back arches as you cry out his name, desire bubbling over into a rush of euphoria that sweeps through your body and momentarily renders you speechless. Tremors wrack through you, toes curling as you desperately pant for breath, hazy eyes opening to look up at him.

Feeling you come apart, watching you fall into pleasure beneath him, was more than Hunter could’ve ever asked for. You were beautiful every day, but lost in the throes of an orgasm he’d given you? You were divine. He could feel the pressure building, feel himself teetering on that edge.

“Where?” The roughness of Hunter’s voice caresses you, warm puffs of his breath tickling your ear from where he’s bent down to bring you both even closer, caging you under him as his thrusts grow sloppy, muscles taut under your hands.

“In me, please.” You whisper back, and the deep moan he lets out will forever be seared into your mind.

Hunter gives a few final thrusts before he presses in as deep as he can, a guttural sound leaving him as his eyes screwed shut, thighs shaking as he hits his own peak, the pressure evaporating into molten bliss as he gives you everything. Slowly, the pleasure pulls back, like the tide, and he swallows thickly as his eyes open, breath catching at the sight of you.

You’re gazing up at him like he hung all the stars in the galaxy, indescribable love woven through your features. Carefully, he lowers your raised leg, fingers rubbing to return some of the feeling as his lips meet yours with a tenderness that could only come from years of shared moments, mouths moving in perfect harmony, a slow, sensuous exploration of one another.

Hand sliding to your waist, Hunter holds you still as he gently eases himself out of you, shifting to lay on his side, drawing you against his chest.

You nestle into his embrace. Your fingers trace the contours of his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. The years of laughter and tears, the countless shared experiences, and the trust built over time have all culminated in this moment.

Hunter presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and you can feel the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. He draws lazy circles on your back, a comforting motion that brings you a sense of security and belonging.

With your bodies pressed together, you both revel in the aftermath of your lovemaking. The room is filled with a peaceful stillness, and you listen to the soft melody of your combined breaths, knowing that this love is the anchor that holds you both steady in a still-turbulent galaxy.

[from-a-legends-pov]

Star Wars Legends: Poll of the Week - Smuggler Starships

Which of these ships owned or used by a Star Wars Legends smuggler is your favorite?

The Wild Karrde, Talon Karrde’s Corellian Engineering Corporation Action VI Transport modified to be the headquarters of his smuggling and spy operation (Heir to the Empire)

The Pulsar Skate, a modified Baudo-class star yacht Mirax Terrik used for her smuggling operation (which she took over from her father Booster when he was arrested) and later to help the New Republic (X-Wing: Rogue Squadron)

The Lady Luck, Lando Calrissian’s yacht modified to include hidden laser cannons, a deflector shield generator, a scanner and transponder system for the use of aliases, and smuggling compartments, as well as luxury amenities such as a reflecting meditation pool and a crystal garden (Heir to the Empire)

The Jade’s Fire, Mara Jade’s heavily modified personal luxury yacht and the first ship Mara personally owned, free and clear (Ambush at Corellia)

The Errant Venture, an Imperial II-class Star Destroyer (formerly the Virulence) captured during a New Republic battle by smuggler Booster Terrik, who was allowed to keep it if it was decommissioned and the excess arms sold to the New Republic. It was later painted bright red (X-Wing: The Bacta War)

Hungry for more Star Wars Legends content? Follow @from-a-legends-pov and check out our upcoming Star Wars Legends fanfiction event, From a Legends Point of View, HERE!

[enkisstories]

I just put Chapter 5 of Mutiny on the Steadfast online. Recap: After the battle of Exegol, Poe got captured by the First Order. On their capital ship he gets subjected to a memory altering treatment. But can the enemies' trickery also override his personality? Doubtful.

(Admittedly some of the dialogue I already used in the castaways story. That's how Mutiny started - I wanted to write a somewhat more serious version of the Poe amnesia arc.)

---

Anyway, here's the outtake:

Poe woke up to the smell of… detergents? No, that wasn’t quite right. The air around him had that sanitized hospital quality, while his clothes stuck to his body and several spots in his arms stung from where injection needles had pierced his skin. He was lying on his back on what felt like an exam table. It was moving… Poe opened his eyes just the moment when his head left a tunnel of sorts and was now looking directly into the ceiling lights.

“Ngh…”

Poe pressed his eyes shut again. He tilted his head to the right side and when he opened his eyes again, he met the detached stare of a medical droid.

“Everything is on order, Sir. Please lie still and don’t try to get up until the disorientation has worn off”, the droid said.

Not in favor of lying or sitting still in general, and especially not when he was so dizzy that he couldn’t tell whether he was on a ship or planet, Poe clenched his teeth. His back was hurting as if a predator had clawed into it and then salivated on the scratches. The gooey stuff had to be bacta gel. There was the vague recollection of it having gotten applied hastily and just carefully enough to make getting shoved into whatever apparatus that was Poe had exited just now bearable. For extra horror points there was not only blood on his clothes, but it hadn’t even fully dried. Poe realized that he was not in the best of shapes, and him wearing a short sleeved gym shirt with a TIE-fighter print offered little comfort. Now a face appeared in Poe’s field of vision, and then another. They belonged to… woot! A Commander and a General, although their names escaped the patient at the moment. But their familiar uniforms with the code cylinder array put Poe at ease, enough to joke around:

“I think that was my favorite shirt…”

“And I think that dubious honor goes to the one with the X-Wing, Sir”, the female officer, a commander of the intelligence corps, remarked.

“I own…? You must be pulling my leg!”

“Do you know who I am?”

Poe shook his head.

Now the General stepped closer. He was older, light skinned, with black, greying hair, carried himself with the confidence of a capital ship commander and looked at Poe like a predator bird at a mouse. All things considered, this senior officer was probably waiting for the pilot to commit the felony of running in the floor and was ready to dish out detention to everyone short of the Supreme Leader.

“What do you remember?”

Panic rose up in the patient, because there wasn’t much in terms of episodic memories. Poe could name the objects in the room, the common ones anyway, not the specialized medical devices. He had heard of a computer tomograph that sported an iconic half-tube, so he declared the thing he had been in as one. Poe also knew concepts from breathing to taxes, but beyond that? Everything regarding himself and his life so far was covered in a fog of war.

Walking through what seemed to be his most recent memories, Poe gave voice to his confusion:

“Pain, confusion, fear? Not a lot of fear, but definitely present. Being stressed. Walking around half naked. Briefly wearing… is that a Resistance uniform jacket? I can’t really tell. Getting beaten. Very nearly passing out. Troopers carrying me… here.”

“Those troopers and their leader are due a medal. They managed to rescue you from the rebel filth”, the General said. “Given the state you were in, we conducted a full medical examination. You’ll pleased to hear that there was no permanent damage. You’ll make a full recovery and can resume duty soon enough… General Dameron.”

Poe blinked.

“That rank sounds right, yet wrong.”

“You were promoted only recently, for having served commendably during the battle of Exegol.”

“I remember… Exegol. I lost hope in the face of overwhelming odds.”

“The blasted citizens’ fleet steamrolled us, but we made it out in one piece”, the General said. “Anything else you remember?”

“No. I get... impressions. When you bring up a concept or event, I can vaguely contextualize it. But even with those nudges the pictures remain blurry.”

The old General nodded.

“That’s good. It means you can expect to regain your full memory over time. There are treatments that can help with that, but first you’ll have to recover from your captivity at the rebel flagship.”

“The Resistance still has a capital shift left?”

“A corellian freighter.”

Poe chuckled: “Yeah, that sounds more like it. Now that you mentioned it, I can smell the grody floating coffin again. – Can I get up now?”

The General looked at the medical droid, who replied affirmative.

Still feeling a bit dizzy, Poe swung his legs over the exam table’s edge and slid down. Finally solid ground under the feet again! Well, if solid ground had been something Poe Dameron had craved. Blasted rebels, putting him into this predicament!

“Uh… Not to sound disrespectful, Sir, but who…?”

“Pryde. General Enric Pryde. I command the Steadfast. And this here is Chief Intelligence Officer Kandia, aforementioned leader who played a key role in your rescue. Your immediate superior, Admiral Griss, isn’t present in this room.”

Ah. Okay. The General commanded the ship, when an Admiral was present. That was… a bit strange.

“And Steadfast is…?”

“The current flagship and mobile capital of the First Order!”

Poe smiled. Now this General Pryde’s elevated position made sense again. He had to be a member of the Supreme Council, probably the First Order’s interim leader, after Lord Ren had… had… After Ren… Poe groaned as surreal pictures formed before his inner eye, trying to get his attention. There was Supreme Leader Ren in a grimy black sweater. He was grinning and he, Poe, was angry at him for being so cheeky in the face of everything that had happened. But in truth Ren had disappeared, and he certainly never had worn a torn sweater!

“Thank you, Commander”, Poe addressed Kandia. “I owe you a lot more than I’m able to process in my current state. In time I may be able to properly…”

“Thank us by being the hero we were afraid to have lost”, Kandia cut the pilot short.

“I will!”

“As for your memories, Sir, maybe someone else will be able to trigger something?” With these words Kandia looked at Pryde, who nodded. “I’ll get Hux in here”, Kandia said, then left the room.

"That name doesn't ring a bell at all”, Poe admitted to Pryde. “Could it be that I know them under a different one?"

"Armitage?"

Poe shook his head. "That sounds even less familiar. It just tells me that his parents must have lowkey hated the poor kid. - Hey! Now that I said this, it sounds true. Even though I still don't know who Hux is."

"You may remember a fair bit more than you are consciously aware of."

And I must make sure that this doesn't become a problem. A couple more “memory retrieval assistance” sessions should program you well enough.

The door opened again and an orange-haired man entered. Every step and gesture down to the fingertips looked practiced for maximum effect, but the man looking as if the late Snoke had put him through the wringer utterly negated the first impression he was trying for. Bruised, emotionally drained, his clothes in disarray… Being seen in public like this must hurt this man even more than the encounter that had left him in such an undignified state. Poe grinned. Ego, ambition and totally blown out of proportion projects, that withstood the real world by the skin of their teeth only, that was the image he had saved of the one Kandia had called "Hux", and whom he still didn’t really remember.

Pryde gestured into the arrival’s direction. "General Dameron, meet General Armitage Hux. General Hux, meet again General Dameron - sans his memories. You are rivals, by the way."

Rivals? Poe laughed out loud!

"That was a trick, right, Sir? To test how bad my amnesia really is. Haha! As if we could hurt so much as a hair on the other’s head!”

Poe pulled the fellow officer into a tight embrace.

“C'mere, Armi... Hugs!"

"You lose your whole damn memory, but you remember that name for me?!" Hux growled into Poe’s shoulder.

"We hug a lot, right? I think I missed you!"

Muscles tensing, feet planted firmly onto the ground to prevent angry stomping and breath coming out of the nose like a farthier’s snort… Why was Hugs acting as if his parents had instructed him to endure a smooch from an overly doting auntie? When he noticed that the hug wasn’t welcome, Poe firmly grabbed the other by his upper arms and pushed him back a little.

“What’s with the reluctance? Did we argue before I lost my memory?”

Hux raised his chin in defiance. The glare he met Poe’s eyes with was so cold that it was already burning and made the pilot wince. When the General opened his mouth, though, his tone was all professional:

“We didn’t part on the best of terms.”

Poe slowly let go, then nodded.

“That was probably my fault. I think I can be quite foul-mouthed.”

“I...noticed?”

“Of course you would’ve.” Again Poe laughed. “At this point you probably know me better than I know myself! Fill me in about everything over tea!”

Much as he tried to stay composed, Hux couldn’t prevent his lips from curling and baring his teeth. His “Do you really remember nothing at all?” came out as a hiss.

Poe, however, was still totally oblivious to the tension around him. Or maybe aggression was how people in general reacted to Poe Dameron, so he was used to it, Hux wondered?

Diving once again into the swirling mists that were his scrambled memories, Poe fished something out that had been on the forefront of his mind recently:

“I think I had a droid whom I was very fond of. An astromech. White, with orange markings. Her name’s Snowgirl. I painted the little spitball in your image, right, Hugs?”

Tell me you didn’t. Tell me that wasn’t the reason and I can die happy!

To everyone’s surprise it was Kandia, who flared up at the mention of “Snowgirl”: “I’m sick of retrieving that droid of yours over and over! Don’t expect help from me, except in slicing it into half!”

“You weren’t even involved in this to a significant degree”, Hux snarled into the intelligence officer’s direction. Then he faced Poe again, still not exactly a paragon of warm-heartedness, but determined:

“Don’t bother asking them. I will help you find BB-8!”

“Ah, right. Everyone is a number.” Poe blinked. “Do I…?”

Hux’ hands slid behind his back, a familiar sight, although none that Poe had missed. The pose only made his friend look like a chicken with her wings folded. Of course Armitage would claim that he was a hawk or buzzard instead. At the very least a majestic rooster.

“Nah. You’re an imperial scion, like me”, Hux revealed to Poe. “With a family legacy and all that crap.”

Poe shook his head. He got the vague impression that he had delivered a message from his absent mother to Armitage once, but couldn’t qualify her relationship to her son, let alone to Poe himself. He barely remembered his own parents: “Not much is coming back. I vaguely remember that my parents and step-father were in the battle of Endor.”

“So was I”, Pryde quickly chimed in. “I’ll fill you in later.”

Poe heard the reluctance in the older man’s voice when he made that offer, but he wrote it off as Pryde loathing how they were of the same rank now. There seemed to be a deep rift between his generation and the older officers, something that he had overlooked before his memory loss. But now it was plain to see. Oh, well, all the more reason to stick to Armitage!

---

This may have read a bit like a gingerpilot fic, but it isn't. Poe in this AU is with Finn, what leaves Hux for Rose:

“We’re going to execute this rebel, and broadcast it to the citizens’ fleet”, Pryde announced.

The rebel in question, it was Rose Tico, looked up to Hux.

“Again at it? Is this our thing, you trying to execute me?”

[checkoutmybookshelf]

You Have My Attention: X-Wing Series First Lines

In the many, many series that comprise the Star Wars EU (the Legends Canon since Disney decanonized it in 2014), the X-Wing series is an interesting case because it is fairly cleanly bifurcated between two X-wing squadrons and two authors, and yet the series as a whole--and the characters who cross over between authors--feel remarkably consistent. That's a feat in and of itself, as anyone who has read over the shift from Robert Jordan to Brandon Sanderson in the Wheel of Time can attest.

My clear preference is for Aaron Allston's writing style and the Wrait Squadron missions, but I know readers who dearly love Stackploe's Rogue Squadron as well. So let's take a look at how these authors grab readers with their first lines!

"You're good, Corran, but you're no Luke Skywalker."

-- Rogue Squadron

"Even before his X-wing's sensors had time to scan and identify the new ship, Corran Horn knew he was in trouble."

-- Wedge's Gamble

"Commander Wedge Antilles would have preferred the ceremony to be private."

-- The Krytos Trap

"Somehow the dead of night amplified the lightsaber's hiss, allowing it to fill the room."

-- The Bacta War

"Twelve X-wing snubfighters roared down into the atmosphere."

-- Wraith Squadron

"He made no pretense at being fully human."

-- Iron Fist

"Naval Lieutenant Jart Eyan looked rested and cheerful."

-- Solo Command

"Sithspawn! When his X-wing reverted to realspace before the countdown timer had reached zero, Corran Horn knew Thrawn had somehow managed to outguess the New Republic yet one more time."

-- Isard's Revenge

"She was beautiful and fragile and he could not count the number of times he had told her he loved her."

-- Starfighters of Adumar

"Imperial Admiral Kosh Teradoc paused, irritated and self-conscious, just outside the entryway into the club."

-- Mercy Kill

[agirlunderarock]

Remedy

Summary: Obi-Wan is having a rough night after returning from Kadavo.

Pairing: Obi-Wan X OC

Warnings: references to canon typical violence

Read on Ao3

A/N: so this was a very short fic inspired by artwork by @sunflowersinheaven So I am so sorry my dude if you saw me popping up repeatedly in your notes over this post. I was trying to keep from losing it in my likes 😅 Thank you for sharing your art on tumblr! But anyways I hope anyone reading this enjoys

 Obi-Wan stared up into the ceiling of his recovery room in the med bay. Soft light from the hallway kept the room just bright enough to see clear across the room to the door of the refresher and the mirror sink in the corner. The soft beeps of monitors in the other rooms was steady though not as reassuring as he had thought they would be. He tried to close his eyes again but almost instantly opened them again.

The jedi thought he would have felt relieved. He had every reason to be happy. He was alive. Anakin, Ahsoka and Rex survived Zygrryian prison camp with him. Yet the thought of the mission made his chest tighten with uncertainty. The Torgruta villagers were safe. They had managed to rescue hundreds of lives, and just as many were still recovering in this med wing. Master Plo and his men had arrived just in time. 

They had done well, all of them, and yet Obi-Wan could still hear the cries of pain piercing his ears. Each beep of the monitor echoed the crack of the whip. Every time he closed his eyes he found himself back in the cot of the prison camp, every attempt to help someone or even stay in compliance resulted in the abuse of another person. Evey choice he made lead others to torture or death. Everyone had done their part, except him. The mission might have even stayed on track if he hadn't been captured-

Obi-Wan sat up with a heavy sigh, the thin blanket sliding down his bare torso, exposing him to the crisp air of the med hall. He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to will away nightmares and memories. Despite the bacta patches, and even a good soak in the bacta tank, the Jedi’s back still stung and ached with each movement. He needed rest. He knew that, but still he couldn’t stay in bed, not when his mind was racing and tormenting him with all the ways he failed the Torgruta people.

He slowly raked his fingers through his hair. Dwelling on what he felt he could have done better wouldn’t make things better. Another deep breath, and he pushed himself out of bed and over to the sink. With every movement he could still catch whiffs of bacta coming off his skin. He had showered before attempting to sleep, but he was running out of ideas to try to get his body to relax.

 He had tried meditating already, intrusive thoughts made it nearly impossible to focus. Even when he tried to recite the Code to himself, Obi-Wan could feel his resolve crumbling under the contradiction between what he believed the jedi should be and what they were constantly being asked to do in this war. The comfort he usually found in the meditation was lost to him now, as he was assaulted by more and more intrusive memories from Kadavo. He considered briefly just physically stepping through his saber forms, but the room was so small, and he loathed the thought of anyone seeing him in the hallway at this hour.

Obi-Wan found himself gripping the edges of the sink in front of him. His back still ached and perhaps it would continue to  for as long as the war went on, possibly even well after. He watched as his knuckles turned white in the dim light. He couldn’t bring himself to look in the mirror. He knew what he would find. Dark circles under his wary eyes, Sas had said his face looked more shallow, sharper and pale when they got back. He didn’t need to see the physical marks on his body, he saw the signs in the people he was supposed to rescue, the people he failed.

“Obi-Wan?” woman’s voice hesitantly called from the doorway.

The jedi didn’t have to look up to know it was Sas. He’d know her voice anywhere, always pulling him from the depths of his darkest thoughts. Almost instantly he loosened his grip on the sink. She didn’t need to see him like this.

“Can’t sleep either?” she asked, still lingering in the doorway. 

For a brief moment Obi-Wan thought he had felt some kind of burst in the force when she spoke his name. Anticipation? Maybe. No excitement. However, the moment he looked over to her, that burst melted into something warmer from her; concern. He could see it knit between her brows and in the way she stood half way in the room and in the hall.

“Sleep rarely comes easy to you after a mission,” Obi-Wan answered though he knew she hadn’t gone with them. She was still nursing injuries from Umbara, and some recent ones from a rogue combat trainer. Even with the bacta he and the others would be recovering from their wounds for quite some time. He still needed to check in with Anakin. He couldn’t begin to imagine how he must be feeling.

“Even when I’m not on the mission, apparently,” she replied, a small rueful smile on her face. “Thought they would have stopped being about Umbara by now, or at least that I wouldn’t have one this time since I didn’t go with you.”

Obi-Wan gave a small nod.”I had hoped that your absence would mean that you were taking care of yourself and recovering well. Maybe next time you should come, if only so theres a whole team to keep an eye on you,” he teased quietly. 

Though seeing and hearing her voice did offer the Jedi some reprieve from the barrage of intrusive thoughts, even he could hear the forced lightness in his voice. He did his best to offer her a smile, but his lips felt tight and stiff. He turned the faucet on and let the cool water run over his hands before leaning down and splashing some on his face. He just needed to wash away the memories for the time being, until he knew how to confront them. Maker knows this wasn’t the only mission that would be haunting him.

Obi-Wan took a breath and reminded himself he had every reason to feel relieved, even happy to be back. He reminded himself that a rescue mission of the size they completed had never been attempted, much less succeeded. He reminded himself that he, and the rest of the team had come back in one piece, that they were alive. He reminded himself that he just found out the woman he loved also harbored those feelings for him, that he finally told her how important she was to his life.

He supposed that was why she was really at his door. She couldn’t sleep for very different reasons. Reasons she had chosen to dismiss the moment she saw the state he was in. He took a deep breath-

“Obi-Wan,” her voice pulled him back up to the surface. He hadn’t realized he was frozen over the sink again. 

"I'm sorry, my dear, please come in," he said, reaching for a hanging towel and drying off his face.

“You don’t need to apologize, Pretty Boy,” her voice already softer and nearer by the time he put the towel down. “I just didn’t want to intrude, if you need time alone-”

“No, no, I’m glad you came, Sas.” Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he wanted to say it now, since they had only just expressed their feelings to one another a few hours ago, but her presence brought him a sense of calm. He didn’t want to be alone, but he felt that he couldn’t ask her to stay, especially when he guessed she had been hoping to find him in a completely different mood. Still, the small smile that curved across her lips had him wishing that he could be that person for her. That he could ask her to stay the night with him. That she hadn’t come in to find him trapped in the memories of the prison. 

Despite her smile, he could see several thoughts rolling through her mind at once, and for the briefest moment her warm brown eyes refused to meet his own. He couldn’t say for sure what she was thinking, only that she was doing her best to not let it show on her face. Part of him wished she wouldn’t try to hide from him, that she would just show him what she was thinking and feeling so that he could try to help her. Maybe then he could do one thing right.

“Can I stay with you for a while?” She asked. “I know its just a nightmare, but I don’t really want to be alone.”

“Of course, Sas.” He put a hand on her shoulder about to lean down to place a kiss on her head. He knew she still wasn’t really talking about a nightmare, but he was more than happy to have her stay with him through the night. Even if he couldn’t sleep, maybe her talking would help him relax, just like when they first arrived. 

“Can I hold you?” She asked, looking up at him suddenly. “It’s just-”

“You don’t need to explain,” He said, pulling her against his bare chest. For a moment he felt her hesitate to put her hands against his bare back, but the moment she did, Obi-Wan felt her warmth seep into him. “I’ve got you,” he whispered against the top of her head, his breath ruffling her dark hair. With each breath he could catch small whiffs of her shampoo, something sweet  and clean. He wanted to let her wash over his senses, as he held her close to himself.

“Why don’t we lay down? You must be exhausted.” she suggested. Instead of pulling away from though, he felt one arm slowly rub up and down his back, while her other gently cradled the back of his head. “I can’t imagine what you and the others have been through, when the last time you really got to sleep was.”

At that moment, Obi-Wan understood what she was doing. While Sas might have originally come looking for him for much more intimate reasons, her asking to hold him had nothing to do with her own needs in that moment. Even though he was the one saying that he had her, Sas truly was the one holding him. Her warm hand grazing over his back, not shying away from the ridges made by fresh scars. The other hand rubbed firm circles less into his upper shoulders, before slowly moving up his neck, fingers gently scratching his head. He hadn’t realized how much she really held him. until he felt his body sink more into her with each pass of her hand up and down his back. He closed his eyes and let out a long slow breath.

“Come on let's go to the bed,” Sas urged in a gentle whisper, her breath ghosting over his neck as he touched his forehead to her shoulder. He shook his head a little. He wasn’t going to be able to sleep. Still he closed his eyes and held onto her tighter as he heard her sigh. “Obi-Wan… Even if you don’t sleep, you need to rest. Please…..Pretty Boy as much as I love holding you, I don’t think my back is strong enough to support both of us right now.” 

“You should go back to your room,” he answered, voice muffled by her hair. “I don’t want to keep you up with my troubles. You need your rest too. There is no point in both of us to be so tired.” Even as Obi-Wan said this though, he couldn’t fully bring himself to let go of her. His mind grew quieter the moment she walked in the room. He wanted to focus on her, let her warmth wash over him and lull him into sleep and chase away the memories of the hell he and the other escaped. However, deep down he knew he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t rely on her for such things, and he shouldn’t be so emotionally invested in her this way.

“Obi-Wan,” Sas answered, her voice quiet but stern, “I’ve been in this med bay for the last few weeks. I’ve had plenty of rest. I didn’t go on the mission, I’ll be fine. The only thing I want is for you to be okay. I want to be here with you. You don’t have to tell me what happened there, and its okay if it's heavy-” She pulled away slowly and held his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing gently over his cheeks.. “But you don’t have to do it alone. Not tonight.”

Obi-Wan let out a breath. The weight in his shoulder’s didn’t feel any lighter, and truthfully he knew it wouldn’t, even if he told Sas right then and there everything that troubled him. He silently turned his head and kissed the palms of both her hands. Maybe it was selfish to let her lead him back to the cot, but what else was there to do? He could shut her out, push her away, send her away and then what? Sit there and let his thoughts torment him more? Maybe that was what he deserved for the mistakes he made on Kadavo, but it wasn’t what he wanted. The only thing he wanted to do as he laid down next to Sas was to hold her and try to focus on letting go of those mistakes.

Once again, Obi-Wan was made aware of who was really holding who, as Sas guided his head to rest on her upper chest, her fingertips gently scratching his scalp. Though it had only been a few hours since they  had chosen to be open about their feelings for one another, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel comfortable in her arms. It wasn’t just that her heart beat drowned out the intrusive thoughts or that each breath she breathed ruffled his hair and ghosted over his forehead. Being with her felt natural, easier than breathing and just as comforting as letting himself sink into the force during meditation. A familiar and welcoming warmth settled over his clouded thoughts as he closed his eyes and held her to his chest. He sank into her, letting her overcome his senses as he felt her lips press to his hairline.

“I love you,” she reminded him softly, her other hand rubbing up his arm and shoulder.

A small shiver ran through the jedi master. He never let himself  indulge in the thought that he could let someone like Sas love him, nor that he would so openly return those affections, yet he nuzzled his face against her emerald skin and pressed his lips over the spot he heard her heart rapidly pounded away. In that brief moment he told himself that he didn’t care if they were discovered. She was the remedy he needed, even if his concerns weren’t resolved, she believed he could find away and would be with him every step of the way. 

Tonight that was all he needed.

“Goodnight, Pretty Boy,” said with a sleepy sigh.

“Goodnight, my hero,” he answered, letting her presence lull him into much needed peaceful rest.

[corelliaxdreaming]

I will never love a real man like I love Wedge Antilles.

[queer-starwars-bracket]

Queer Star Wars Characters (Round 1): Special Legends Match Non-binary aliens

(This is a special three way match, because these characters were only discovered after the bracket had begun. To avoid the spoiler effect, if no character gets at least 50% of the vote, the match will be rerun with the top two contenders still as part of round 1.)

Qlaern Hirf | Identity: alien nonbinary | Media: X-wing novels

Qlaern Hirf was a member of the Vratix species, an insectoid species without sex differentiation that invented bacta. They were also a member of the Ashern Circle, a group of militant Vratix who opposed human control of bacta. Qlaern represented the Ashern Circle to the New Republic and the group’s intention to join the new state. They informed Rogue Squadron of the location of deadly bacta aboard a space station. They produced a cure for the Imperial bioweapon Krytos virus for the New Republic.

(Apologizes for any errors in the summary, this is one of a few characters I have no personal experience with.)

Keeramak | Identity: alien nonbinary/intersex (it/its) | Media: The New Jedi Order: Force Heretic II: Refugee

The Keeramak was a mutant member of the normally sexually dimorphic Ssi-ruuk species (lizard aliens invading the Galaxy, not the Yuuzhan Vong, the other one). It was born of a union of two Ssi-ruuk of different colors, but unusually was born with scales of all caste colors. This birth fulfilled an ancient prophecy that foretold that it would free the lower caste Ssi-ruuk and the enslaved species P’w’eck. It was elected the leader of the Ssi-ruuvik Imperium by the religious elders and began to set plans to invade the Galaxy. However, because it didn’t do the liberation promised by the prophecy, the Keeramak was killed by revolting P’w’eck.

(Apologizes for any errors in the summary, this is one of a few characters I have no personal experience with.)

Garr | Identity: alien nonbinary | Media: Boba Fett: Crossfire

Garr was a young member of the Excargan species, which didn’t have sex differentiation until they were thirteen. Their parents were captured by the Separatists when Excarga was invaded, and the Republic put them on an orphanage transport ship where they met a young Boba Fett. They became Boba’s first friend, who was the only person who didn’t treat them weirdly for being genderless. When they arrived at the orphanage, Aurra Sing appeared and captured both of them. She only spared Garr because Boba Fett said they were his friend, despite then telling Garr they weren’t his friend to get them to leave Boba alone. Instead, Garr went to the Jedi who ran the orphanage and joined them pursuing Boba and Aurra Sing. Aurra almost killed them, but spared them at Boba’s insistence. 

(Apologizes for any errors in the summary, this is one of a few characters I have no personal experience with.)

[profmorbius]

Posted a review of Star Wars: X-Wing #4: The Bacta War by Michael A. Stackpole on my blog. Read it here.

tl;dr – Decent

[wantonwinnie]

Hey there!

I’m a third-year law student and have been a fan of Star Wars since about 2014. I like reblogging meta, character discussions, fanart, that sort of thing. I will pivot to whatever interests me at the moment, though. My favorite eras in general are The High Republic, Andor/Rogue One, The Clone Wars, Rebels, and the wider Prequel trilogy.

I do somewhat serious meta, do book reviews, gush over High Republic characters, talk about the law as it relates to Star Wars, etc. etc. Just for fun though.

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My posts about the Jedi:

The Jedi's relationship to death

A Lightsaber's collective connection

My posts about the High Republic:

Convergence Evokes an Active Peace

Quest for the Hidden City Review

The Battle of Jedha Review

My posts about Andor:

Nemik Dialogue

Andor’s Connection to Criminal Procedure

Was there Probable Cause for Cassian's Arrest?

A Niamos-like nightmare? On my planet? It’s more likely than you think (Stop and Frisk)

Legends stuff:

The Bacta War Review (+ X-Wing series in general)

Kenobi Review

Plagueis + Path of the Open Hand connection

Theories/Headcanons

Palpatine + Leveler Connection

How Nemik's Manifesto might have Unified the Rebellion

Other stuff:

THR Artbook Vol. 1 quotes

My Favorite Movies/Shows

My Favorite Novels (Canon/Legends)

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Tags I tend to use: #andor, #the high republic, #the clone wars, #rebels, #jedi / #jedi order, #reviews

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Avatar is cover art by Cristiano Spadoni et al. from Daniel José Older’s Midnight Horizon.

Background art (not mine).

[wolviecat]

Enemy among us - Wolviecat - Star Wars - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

Day 19 of the Febuwhump, "You deserve this".

Officially, drinking wasn't allowed on the base. After all, despite all their unorthodoxy and strangeness, Alliance was still an army, and no one wanted to have their base protected by drunk or hungover pilots. That doesn't mean there wasn't an abundance of jet juice and home-made spotchka, and that the higher-ups didn't sometimes look the other way. Kriff, he'd got shitfaced with Draven and Nire already.

After that day , alcohol became less of a public secret and more of a medicine. Biggs never realized how many Alderaanians were among them until he had seen them broken down and hysterical or completely numb. Until he'd seen them waiting by the few available public comlinks, trying to reach their families and friends, hoping desperately they had been off-world when the attack had come. Until he'd seen the vigils and the walls filled with pictures and holos of those lost to the planet killer.

For many, it had become the only way to survive: to get drunk the second they were off their shift.

 

He almost missed it over the noise in the mess hall - pleading, desperate voice begging for mercy, angry screams, and the sounds of someone's boots hitting flesh. He cursed and sped up, elbowing his way through the crowd. The last thing they needed was friendly fire.

“Lieutenant Kore!” He showed the X-wing pilot away before she could land another kick. She swayed on her feet, from the force of his push and from the alcohol that reeked from her even from a couple of steps away. Her victim, meanwhile, curled even tighter at the floor.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Kore blinked, trying to focus on him. Then she smiled. It was an ugly smile, like a cut through her face.

“Talking to my friend here, sir.”

“Talking?” Somehow, he managed to keep his voice light. Calm. “I wasn't aware you need your feet to do that.”

“You do when the Imp doesn't want to listen.”

He kneeled next to the guy still covering in front of them. Even with his arms around his head in a desperate attempt to protect himself from Kore's anger, Biggs could still see the shiny burn covering half of his face. It must be pretty hard to listen, Biggs thought, with most of your ear burned off. Darker round patch on his jumpsuit's shoulder showed where the six-spoked cog wheel of the Empire used to be. Even without it, he still stood up, a dark stain against the sea of Rebel orange. “Come on, buddy,” He grabbed him, carefully, by his shoulders: “off to the medbay with you.” 

“Is this a kriffin' joke, sir?” growled Kore, her face pale with anger: “We will let this dirty imperial killer just eat our food and use up our bacta like he's one of us? Ones like him are just waiting to stab us in the back.”

He clenched his fist so tight his joints cracked. It would feel good to just hit Kore in the face, break her nose, bash her teeth in. Instead, he just smiled.

“Maybe you are right, Kore,” he said, leaning so close their noses almost touched: “you should keep an eye on us ex-imperials.”

“Us?” 

He could feel her flinch. 

"Imperial Academy," he grinned: "top of my class." He looked around. 

"And I can see some familiar faces around here." 

[from-a-legends-pov]

Star Wars Legends: Poll of the Week — Favorite Droids (Who Are Not Artoo or Threepio)

We know that Artoo-Detoo (R2D2) and See-Threepio (C-3PO) are favorite droid friends and heroes in any canon. But which of these other droids from Legends is your favorite?

Squeaky, the cantankerous protocol droid who served as quartermaster to Wraith Squadron and had a previous career as an extremely rude waiter at the tapcafe near Folor Base (X-Wing: Wraith Squadron)

Tonin, the R2-series astromech droid and companion to Gara Petothel; dubbing himself “king of the droids,” Tonin wrangled an army of mouse droids to slice into the systems of Warlord Zsinj’s ship, the Iron Fist (X-Wing: Solo Command)

IG-88, an assassin droid created by the Intergalactic Banking Clan that was given sentience programming to improve its operation as an assassin, reasoned it was superior to its biological creator, and destroyed them; it later started a droid revolt and worked as a bounty hunter during the time of the Galactic civil war (Tales of the Bounty Hunters)

Shiner, Myn Donos’s beloved astromech droid, whom he considered the last remaining survivor of the ambush that killed Talon Squadron, causing Myn to nearly go catatonic when the droid was destroyed in a battle with the Blood Nest pirates (X-Wing: Wraith Squadron)

Whistler, also known as Xeno, Corran Horn’s astromech droid, who assisted him with detective work when he was a Corellian Security (CorSec) officer and later came with Corran when he joined the New Republic starfighter corps. Similarly to Artoo, Whistler escaped memory wipes and developed more of a distinct personality than other droids. He was painted the same green and gold as Corran’s X-wing (X-Wing: Rogue Squadron)

R5-D4, the astromech with the bad motivator originally chosen for purchase by Owen Lars. R5-D4’s original story was that he was extremely jealous of other droids and that Artoo deliberately sabotaged R5’s motivator to make sure Artoo was the one purchased; however, in the “Skippy the Jedi Droid” story, R5-D4 was a Force-sensitive droid who sabotaged his own motivator after seeing a Force vision of a grim future in which R2D2 never reached Luke or Obi-Wan and was never able to complete his mission (Star Wars Tales)

Gate (R5-G8), originally R5-D2, Wedge Antilles’ astromech droid with Rogue Squadron. R5-D2 was known as “Mynock” because of how noisy and shrill his whistle was. Wedge got so annoyed with Mynock’s noise that he had the droid’s memory wiped; during the wipe, the droid’s internal components were upgraded, resulting in its new designation and nickname (X-Wing: Rogue Squadron as Mynock; X-Wing: The Bacta War as Gate)

Vape, Garik “Face” Loran’s R2 unit astromech. When he had the droid repainted from red to the unit’s gray color, Face had Wraith Squadron mechanic Cubber Daine reprogram the droid to respond to the command, “Cold one” by dispensing a cold Elba beer (X-Wing: Wraith Squadron)

HK-47, a Hunter-Killer assassin droid and Jedi hunter constructed by Darth Revan in 3960 BBY. He despised organics (whom he referred to as “meatbags”), and multiple times over the centuries turned on organics who attempted to reactivate him or use his data or AI. These included Separatists who found him on Mustafar during the Clone Wars and a group of spacers in 1.5 ABY whom he convinced to help him regain his body and restart the Mustafar droid factory, after which HK-47 built a droid army to kill all organics, including the spacers (Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic)

Looking for more Legends content? Follow @from-a-legends-pov and come join us for From A Legends Point of View, a fanfiction event where we’ll be building a collection of fics featuring Star Wars Legends characters during the time of the Original Trilogy. Writer signups are open now — use our Signup Form to pitch your story concepts (Signup Guidelines here), check out our Event Overview and FAQ for more information, and encourage your favorite writers to participate!