#it’s probably Cassian

[shittalkingwiththesuriel]

It’s a damn shame Sarah J Maas has never elaborated on the bat boys tattoos in ACOTAR.

Like we know they have the tribal tattoos and Rhys has the mating ones and the ones on his knees

But I KNOW she’s keeping Azriel’s thigh and waist tattoos from me!

I need a diagrams.

I need the next book to have one of those in jacket lined art covers with diagrams of the tattoos

[therebelcaptain]

The boys are back.

[hey-scully-itsme]

every time i rewatch star trek TOS it's gayer than i remember.

spock: 'has it occurred to you that there is a certain... inefficiency in constantly questioning me on things you've already made up your mind about?'

kirk: 'it gives me emotional security' :)

spock: :)

kirk: :)

[novaricewrites]

I don't understand how a man who drugs and assaults you is potential for romance - let alone portrayed as a feminist king and spouse goals who is ultimately the tragic and noble ruler by both author and so many in a fandom.

(said man also reinforces an apartheid state and complains but does jack-shit about mass gender violence despite being 'all-powerful' but stans aren't ready for that conversation)

And let's not pretend that physically punching or dragging someone you claim to love on a hike after knowing she's emaciated and mentally unwell is just cute TENSION.

Like at a certain point, people are getting way too comfortable romanticizing it and excusing their obsession with 'it's just fiction' only when it is convenient for them. And certain authors are capitalizing on that to continue writing shitty novels that are just fetishes and trauma porn with harmful implications wrapped up in a shiny bow.

I feel especially concerned when so many of these implications can translate to real life situations and promotes brushing them under the rug.

[guildfordd]

DIEGO LUNA as Andy Luján in La Máquina (2024) Cassian Andor in Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)

[kataraavatara]

“why are the illyrians always rebelling” if this was how my leaders spoke about my entire ethnicity i’d crash out too. yes cassian and Azriel have many justified grievances with the Illyrians on a personal and ideological level but to dismiss an entire race of people like this? like it’s one thing for the batboys to do it but for amren who is very much not Illyrian & a high fae for all intents and purposes to be throwing words like “barbarian” out there and mor another high fae sitting there and “nodding empathetically” like….hmmm i’d be in open rebellion too

[dreamsandstars24]

Rhys: Why is Gwyn staring at Az like that?

Cassian: She is trying to prove a theory.

Rhys: Why is Azriel flexing his wings like that?

Cassian: He is trying to help Gwyn prove her theory.

[hanalghilan]

That's just love... Nothing you can do about that.

[yaralulu]

Saw a post of people saying they couldn’t wait to see the Vanserra brothers being besties with the bat boys and I am here because I need to know that I’m not the only one who would rather bathe in bleach.

No.

If I see Lucien or Eris bending over backwards to kiss the ICs ass I’m just going to believe that eris was murdered by Briallyn and Lucien got possessed by Koschei or something OLEASE let these firefuckers keep their spine

I actually need rhys and lucien to get into a fist fight like it’s so serious for me.I just know he can’t stand those fuckers but sjm will obviously never write that in his pov because god forbid somebody doesn’t like the IC.You saw what happened to nesta because she didn’t like rhys 😭.

I think eris would also rather be bathed in bleach than befriend the bat boys .Him and Lucien are no more than diplomatic with the IC and they’re the only ones calling them out on their bullshit and it should stay that way.No need for them to get all buddy-buddy nobody wants that!!

[halfdeadhalfdrunk]

The Andor finale played out gorgeously. I love the way both the ISB and Luthen’s intelligence cell were caught completely flat-footed by the uprising on Ferrix. It really called back to Luthen’s speech about being forced to use the tools of the enemy to defeat them: he may have predicted the Empire’s actions and motivations with 100% accuracy, but he ended up having the same blind spots.

Both groups thought they were in for a game of cat and mouse over Cassian Andor. Both were wrong for the same reason: the little people, the ones they’d written off as predictable puppets, were ready to take matters into their own hands.

This entire episode hammered home the idea of community as the most powerful weapon against oppression. Cassian could walk through people’s backyards, sewers, and kitchens to operate much more effectively than any spy, and Maarva’s speech speaks for itself. Her audience floods the streets; the fact that neither group caught wind of this level of turnout and organization in advance puts them to shame.

[waatched]

"Let's play-make a deal." MAFIA AU - 001/004

[watcherintheweyr]

Nesta deserved a girlfriend not.... Him

[infiniteetcetera]

One of the many weird things about Nessian that still has me convinced they are defective/cursed instead of fated mates is we get the whole “most beautiful person they had ever seen” line from SEVERAL mated pairs (Feyre/Rhys, Ruhn/Lidia, Rowan/Aelin, Lucien/Elain, probably more) meanwhile Nesta’s just like “yeah Cassian’s hot but AZRIEL😍🔥🥵” and Cassian mentions Nesta being hot a few times but then goes on for like two pages about Mor’s beauty inside and out and I’m just like JDJDKWKDN do these two honestly even like each other😩

[mosylufanfic]

Rebelcaptain Week Day Two: Media Adaptation

Behold, y'all! My favorite blorbos meet the very first DVD I ever bought, that shining example of early-90s cheese, The Cutting Edge.

Also, I just learned that Tony Gilroy - yes THAT Tony Gilroy - wrote the screenplay for the original. I'm still laughing.

Apologies to anyone who knows literally anything about figure skating.

We Might Not Be Right for Anybody Else

The rising sun had barely begun to light the far wall as Cassian Andor finished the last of his warm-up circuits. 

He loved the rink like this. Cool and quiet, the ice fresh and clear. Blood pumping through his muscles as he soared over the glassy surface, the wind of his own speed ruffling his hair, the hiss of his blades cutting into the virgin ice. 

He'd spent a good portion of his youth fighting for time on the ice of public rinks and he knew very well that many of his competitors still did. He'd been insanely lucky to catch Mon Mothma's attention. Mon Mothma, with all her buckets of money and her cases full of medals, her private rink on her own estate, and her determination to support the next generation of skaters. 

Mon Mothma believed in him, he reminded himself. It was his job to justify that belief. 

Now if only he could get a partner who could fucking keep up.

At the far end of the rink, the door opened, then closed. 

"You're late," he said. He didn't shout, but he knew how to make his voice carry in the chilly air. He leaned into the curve at the end of the rink, his blades leaving a long, perfect arc in the ice.  "Get warmed up. We need to work on those side-by-side doubles again." Her landings were shit. He'd nearly crashed into her the night before when she'd wobbled almost to a stop.

"She's not coming," said a voice he hadn't expected. 

He looked back over his shoulder and found not the small, puffer-coated figure of his most current partner, but the tall, thin frame of his personal trainer, Kay. "She's sick?" he said. "Again?"

"She quit," Kay said.

Keep Reading on AO3

[asnowfern]

The ways you say my name, have me running on and on

A/N: A little angsty porn for day 7 of @cassianappreciationweek because we just know Cassian wanted to cuddle just as much as Nesta did, yeah?💗

CW: NSFW, WC: 692

Read on AO3

It’s just sex.

Cassian chants in his head as his calloused fingers press a bruising grip into her hips. He drags his cock along the silky entrance, before snapping it back forward, setting a punishing pace.

He moves his gaze up from where they are joined and admires the sweat glistening on the dark eight point star-marked back. It marrs the smooth alabaster skin yet he remains enamoured, with the sight of dripping sex, the moans he drags out of those wicked lips.

His fingertips are sure to leave a bruise.

It’s carnal and purely physical.

*

It’s just sex.

He pulls her across the soft sheets so that he is able to lick a clean strip down the centre of her folds, relishing in the shudders that the motion elicits. He sucks on the nub while plunging his fingers deep into her. Her thighs, so much stronger now, clenches around his head.

He doesn’t let up. Not now, not ever. Lapping on the folds, he feasts on the juices of her arousal, relishes in the quickening of her breaths, the stutters as she cries out his name. He quickens his pace, sensing her impending climax, and commands, “Be a good girl and come for me, Nes.”

It is a crushing hold around his head as she falls over the edge, calling his name. It is a sound pleasing as a chime and a taste so syrupy sweet.

Even if it’s just sex, he could do this forever.

Afterall, there could be no one else for him.

*

It’s just sex.

He is still buried to the hilt in her, her back held flushed against his chest, his arms circled around her, soft breast firmly in his palm. The evidence of their combined release flows down their thighs, mixed so completely it is impossible to tell whose is whose.

He should let go.

He can’t.

He holds her in his arms and feels her breathing begin to even out, exhausted beyond reprieve. Sniffing into her hair deeply, he lets his eyes fall shut and tightens his hold just the slightest.

Not much time has passed when he wakes. Nesta, by Mother’s mercy, still remains asleep. He drops his head to those beautiful shoulder freckles and lightly brushes his lips across them.

As gently as he can, he extricates himself, flaccid cock and all. He makes a quick trip to the bathroom and returns with a cloth and a small basin, half filled with water at the most soothing temperature.

He suppresses a wince as he wipes her down as carefully as he can. Smiling slightly when she stayed asleep the entire time. With a light touch, he sweeps a stray strand out of her face.

Unable to hold himself back, he drops a kiss on her forehead before exiting the room.

It’s still just sex.

*

It’s no longer just sex.

Not when their souls have become so intertwined, entangled with a thread of gold.

Forever forever forever. There is to be no one else for either of them.

Cassian wakes up with Nesta still nestled in his arms. The sun peeks from beneath the horizon, casting the most gentle glow into the room. Her face is completely relaxed as she nuzzles into his chest.

She is incandescently beautiful. A goddess, really.

His cock twitches. A primal instinct demands for him to continue the frenzy, to wake his mate up in the most enjoyable of manners. To plough deep. Again and again until there is nothing more left to give.

But he can’t.

Not when she isn’t yet ready for all of what it encompasses — to finally have to face the truth of their bond.

So he feigns an urgency to leave when she awakes, mumbling excuses on their annual snowball fight (while important, could never, never measure up to her) and inspections in Illyria.

Every fibre of his body screams at him not to leave. The drag of resistance of frigid wind against his wings is a desperate plea for him to return. Back to the warm bed, back to his mate.

He can’t.

It’s not just sex anymore.

It never was.