#rebelcaptain son

[andorerso]

Rebelcaptain Trees for @antifandor and @imsfire2: Peace and Post-War (inspired by this lovely fanart by @pfirsichspritzer)

The lights are off in their little cottage by the time Cassian steps through the front door, bag in hand. It’s nearly two in the morning, but his longing is not for sleep. Silence greets him, the snow owls hooting outside the only sound in the house, but he stops for a second, squinting into the darkness as he listens for any rustling that suggests his arrival had woken someone.

Nothing.

He told Jyn not to wait up. His ship was disappointingly but unsurprisingly delayed, the downside of public transport, and there was no point in keeping her up when he wasn’t sure he’d even make it home that night. But selfishly, he still lingers, hoping for the click of the light switch or tiny feet padding down the hall towards him. He hasn’t seen them in three weeks while he was off-world aiding Leia and the New Republic as an unofficial adviser for the Senate, and he’s annoyed that things like delays and sleep keep them from him yet again.

A tinge of disappointment crawls up his spine. His yearning for them is visceral, driving him to irrationality. No one should be awake at this hour, least of all their kids, but he misses them like a man dying of thirst in the desert. He wants to wrap Jyn in a hug and kiss her forehead, he wants to sit Lu on his lap and braid her hair or tickle her feet and hear her squeal, he wants to pick up Sammi and sing to him until he falls asleep or make those silly faces that always puts a wide grin on his face.

Sleep be damned, he wants nothing but his family. He could cook them something they loved and pull out a board game, something Lu could play as well. Or they could go sledding on the hill, build a snowman, make snow angels. They could cuddle up on the couch and watch a holo. Anything as long as they’re by his side.

He’s already making plans of waking up early tomorrow to surprise them with breakfast and hot chocolate when he finally reaches their bedroom and falters at the doorway. His heart finally eases. He wanted to put down his bag and check on the kids before settling in beside Jyn, but there’s no need. They’re here, all three of them, sleeping peacefully in the double bed he shares with Jyn.

She’s on her side of the bed, her hair fanning out around her, her breathing even. The white shirt she’s wearing, peeking out of the blankets, is his. Their son, only six months old, slumbers on her chest, a pacifier in his mouth. Jyn’s got a protective arm wrapped around him, his tiny hand fisting her shirt. Already, he looks older, hair thicker than he remembers, and Cassian mourns each and every second he missed with him during his three-week absence. On the other side of the bed is Luisa, clutching her favorite bantha plushie in one hand and holding Jyn’s in the other. They try not to make a habit out of letting her sleep with them, unless she has a nightmare, but he isn’t surprised Jyn allowed her into their bed while he was away. She likes to keep her loved ones close where she can keep an eye on them.

Cassian’s heart squeezes, his love for them choking the air from his lungs. He’s missed them all so dearly, and although he can’t wait to hear Luisa’s laugh and Sammi’s babbling and Jyn’s tender welcome, this, standing here in front of them and watching, is enough for now.

He doesn’t move for so long that Jyn peeks an eye open, her voice quiet and sleepy. “Are you getting in or not?”

She’s awake, of course she is. His arrival had woken her because no matter how many years pass, they would always be the people who catalog every exit route when entering a new location and wake to the tiniest of noises in the middle of the night. Sleeping through a stranger entering your home is the kind of mistake that gets you killed, and he knows they would both sooner die than let anything happen to their kids.

They’re still so young and innocent, knowing nothing of fear and pain and hunger, living the kind of childhood they deserve to have. At Lu’s age, he was already an orphan, and Jyn was already on the run with her parents. But their kids will never experience that kind of desolation, and he’d fight another war, sacrifice his life and soul just to keep it that way.

All those years he spent giving away tiny pieces of himself for the cause, all those times he nearly lost hope, unsure of what they were fighting for… This is it. The peace he feels when looking at his family. The future he can give to his children who will grow up better than they did. It was worth every injury, every loss, every atrocity he committed. It was worth the lifetime of sorrow he’d lived just to get here.

“Yeah, in a moment,” he tells Jyn, mirroring her tone. There’s just enough space for him between the three of them. It’ll be a tight fit, but he doesn’t mind. “I’ll take a quick shower and get changed.”

“Okay.” Jyn’s eyes flutter close again, adjusting her grip on Sammi. Her voice is nothing more than a quiet sigh when she says, “Welcome home, Cass.”

[shu-of-the-wind]

i was reading song of silver, flame like night by amelie wen zhao over the weekend, and there's a line in it that i have been chewing like gum ever since.

here was the trick to surviving in a colonized land: you couldn't show that you cared. every [person] you came across would have his share of sob stories: family slaughtered in the conquest, home pillaged or plundered, or worse. to care was to allow a chink in the armor of survival. [...] in a conquered land, the only way to win was to survive.

i think this has been haunting me because i keep thinking of this, this language, this dagger-sharp cut of reality, in terms of star wars. because i always think of star wars. and i think about kassa, and jyn, and how they both refused to look up. simply living under the empire is enough of a fight. they cannot afford to make the moral choice. they want to live, and living is enough; living when the empire wants them dead, when the republic tried to kill them as children, is enough for them in those moments.

for so long all they can do, all they can dream of, is living. they can't afford to have sympathy for others even when it continues to creep in, because they are fundamentally good people trying to survive under the massive, titanium weight of empire. that means that they cannot afford to have morals the way that the rebellion demands. the people around them (and many of the viewers!) don't seem to understand this, and that's partly why cassian has been so woobified since andor came out. (which is something that annoys the living shit out of me, because it fundamentally disrespects cassian's existance as a refugee in hiding, a victim of empire and colonization. but that's another post.) you cannot afford morality under empire, because it will fucking kill you. they both know this.

which is why their choices in rogue one break my heart and uplift my soul all at once. because they know they're going to die. but they choose morality over survival, because it means more to them to die doing the right thing, than to continue to live under a system that denigrates their existences. they've walked with death since they were tiny babies, and in the end, they choose death, because morals cannot survive under imperialism. and that's why their choice is so powerful.

under empire, having morals, caring for the world around you, might kill you. but it is the greatest sacrifice you can possibly make in a society that tries to eliminate morality.

[rotzaprachim]

obsessed with the whole jyn and cassian as penelope and odysseys thing like the metatextual levels of the Ordinary Human couple in the midst of this mass mythos of gods and war but also the sense they are for almost their entire lives separated and yet inexorably bound by the narrative, they are threaded together they are looking in a mirror they are drowning in the wine dark sea they are standing on the beach they are the warp and weft they are coming home to each other they have never not once in their lives yet met 

[andorology]

Sanguinity a rebelcaptain regency au

The world, as Jyn Erso knows it, is suddenly changing to her disadvantage.

Knowing that she could soon lose the fortune secured to her name and the freedom promised by her maidenhood, she is now forced to marry if she ever hopes to stand a chance. And when Cassian Andor moves into her neighborhood as the new owner of a portion of her family’s estate, she is even more provoked by his biting animosity.

Jyn is determined to never forgive Cassian. But Cassian will soon prove, time and time again, that he is, after all, worthy of her reprieve.

Read the first chapter of Sanguinity below the cut, or check it out on ao3! Rating T.

Jyn Erso was, by every definition, a fortunate woman. Through some extremely divine (but otherwise discriminate) luck, she was, on the first spring day of 1793, born into instant prosperity. Fathered by Mr. Galen Erso, who owned a considerable portion of land within Endor Village, and sired by Mrs. Lyra Erso, whose connections from having been the firstborn into an earldom, had elevated the family to a kind of reverence, even by those more powerful of their peers like the Baron Orson Krennic.

But what material and social fortune her parents had been blessed with in bounty, they did not lack in virtue. Much of the respect they had gained, while creditable to their position within society, was also, in large, due to their character, with Mr. Erso often deemed gentle, yet strong, and Mrs. Erso tenacious in spirit, sharp in wit.

There was a cosmic rarity in such favorable circumstances of birth, that it had, in consequence, produced the equally rare phenomenon of Jyn’s upbringing. With the comfort of her wealth and connections, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Erso’s rather liberal approach to parenting, Jyn grew up having gained knowledge, having thought up ideas, and having pursued endeavors well beyond those expected of her sex, and with little to no opposition from anybody who had power to give it.

By the encouragement of her patrons, Jyn learned of arts, sciences, and literature, using knowledge she’d gained from reading to perceive a view of the world past her home, Vallt Park. All this education had elevated her intellect to superiority, which, depending on who was asked, was either her boon or her bane.

The matter of Jyn’s upbringing had been for some time a subject of contentious debate among those who lived in Endor Village. A position of support, and even the admiration of its effects on Jyn, was taken up by the Ersos’ long-time family friend and neighbor, Mr. Bodhi Rook, and Mr. Chirrut Imwe and Mr. Baze Malbus, the seminaries of the nearby Jedha Boarding School.

There were, on the other hand, the likes of Sir Krennic, who viewed the situation with a total disinclination—though a furtive one at that, for with the preservation of his baronetcy in mind, he aimed to maintain an amicable relationship with a family of such social status. This did not deprive him, however, of the private belief that such upbringing was the very reason why Miss Erso had still taken no one’s hand in marriage at the “too ripe age of six-and-twenty”. 

This belief, however, was something his son, Mr. Philip Krennic, did not share with him. His heir absolutely saw no fault in the young maiden.

As for Jyn herself, she saw her own lack of a matrimonial half as certainly caused by the same reason, except, perhaps, with the distinction that she did not view it with any regret. No, Jyn did not want to be married, if it at all meant she would have to forever withdraw the freedom that had allowed her her education and enlightenment. In service of this pursuit, she had been able to put off her so-called prospects with a seven year streak of success, roughly the same amount of time that had passed since she had come out to society.

The plan was foolproof: she would go on rejecting every suitor and proposal until she finally crossed the threshold of being unwanted in the eyes of men. Perhaps this was the only advantage of the opposite sex’s mileage for desirability being so within a short age span; at twenty-six, Jyn did not have to wait long anymore until her social capital had expired. 

She understood, of course, what the consequences of being a maiden would be to women like her once they turned old. But she held firm in the belief that it was, by miles, a much better predicament to find herself in, than to become someone’s wife, to become the mistress to the affairs of his house, and to become the mother to his children. 

Besides, yet one of the many more fortunes of Jyn’s circumstances was that she had a fortune—a rather large one at that—secured for her by her father in a settlement, despite her not being a male heir. The amount, she had been told, would be enough to sustain not only a comfortable living, but even the pleasure of her endeavors.

What reason, what sense, would ever compel her to marry now? 

There was no doubt to anyone then, that Jyn Erso was, indeed, a fortunate woman. But while one may regard her luck as her greatest asset, it would soon prove to be, in its absence, the source of a great tribulation.

Much of the success of her plan depended on wealth being secured in her possession, and yet, with this morning’s news, all of it was about to slip her grasp.

“We are losing money.”

The words rang stale through the crisp morning air. Jyn looked up from her plate to direct her gaze towards her father at the head of the table, hoping that he’d either misspoken, or that she’d misheard. 

“What did you say, Papa?” she asked. 

Mr. Erso rested his elbows by the edge of the table, then loosely laced his hands together. A lock of grays broke away from his head of hair down to his forehead, which wrinkled down to a frown. “We are losing money,” he repeated grimly.

Jyn set down her knife and fork quietly onto the mat. She still was not convinced. “What happened?”  

Mrs. Erso, who sat across from Jyn, reached out a hand towards her husband’s arm and gripped it lightly. Mr. Erso placed his hand over hers to return the affection.

“Our farms,” he explained, “have not produced the same quality and amount of crop for the last two years.”

Jyn momentarily paused to reflect. “Do we know why?” 

“It is a problem we are yet to identify.”

“Well then, we must figure it out, do we not?”

“We will,” Mr. Erso replied, “but we are going to need money to be able to do that, and then some more to improve the farms, the moment we discover the issue.” 

Jyn had heard stories about estates losing their money all the time, and knew, to some degree, what was usually done to remedy such situations. “Does this mean we are to retrench?” she asked.

Mr. Erso shook his head. “We could do it, but it would unfortunately not be enough,” he answered. “There is already not much we can cut back on.”

“Then what do you plan to do? What are we to do?” 

“There are other options, which we have carefully considered.”

“Yes?”

“We think there is one thing in particular that could be done.”

“What is it?”

Mr. Erso took a deep breath to gather his wits. “We need to sell Lah’mu.”

Shock surfaced to Jyn’s fresh countenance. “Sell Lah’mu?”

In the same stories she’d heard, resorting to selling one’s property, or in this case, a considerable portion of their estate, was an indication of serious financial loss. And though this alone was good enough reason to alarm her, yet another stoked it much greater:

Jyn was beginning to understand that she did not know quite yet the extent of their current predicament, and she was terrified of what she would find out when she finally did. 

“Has our situation become so severe?” she asked.

Mr. Erso sighed, heavy and deep. “Unfortunately so. I had hoped that the issue would be a momentary lapse, but we have already given out more than we’re taking in with maintaining the farms. This has gone on longer than I’d hoped, and now I’m afraid we have no other choice.”

“But is there not something else we can do?” Jyn offered, then spent a moment to think. “Perhaps we could just lease it instead of selling it, or we could—”

“Jyn,” Mrs. Erso interjected, each word ripe with care but also a firmness, “we have considered all the options. Upon long and arduous thought, and with the counsel of Mr. Longhorn, we have decided that this is the best course of action we can take.”

“But Lah’mu Hall, Mama,” Jyn contended, hoping that invoking her childhood home's name alone would be enough to deter the decision. 

“We are going to lose it, yes,” Mrs. Erso answered with sympathy, “but with the money, we may be able to save our farms. You would support that, would you not?”

Jyn somehow felt slighted by all this; it would seem that her parents, in opening up this conversation, did not enter it with the intent to seek her advice; they were merely telling her what had already been decided. The only approbation she could give now was limited to the manner in which she could give it; she could only take the fact either with grace, or without.

Mr. Erso, observing her daughter’s quiet objections, spoke, “I understand, dearest, that the house means a lot to you—it means a lot to your mother and I, and I regret to part with it, but she is right. Please understand.”

For a few seconds the party sat silent. Jyn searched her parents’ faces in dreadful reflection. Lah’mu Hall, the place where her grandparents had lived, where her early life had taken fruit. All of it, gone! It was a most unfortunate loss, one she had imagined would severely injure the family in ways other than financial. And all the worse, it seemed like she could not do anything about it.

Yet for all the regret that currently took her heart, she felt her tensing gaze soften as she took sight of her parents, their expressions taking upon a somber quality, one graver than she had been privy to witness in the past. She came to the sensible conclusion that they would never really, if given the choice, agree to such an arrangement unless a direness of situation called for it. 

Upon thinking this, Jyn began to view the decision differently, with the warmth of someone who strongly did not approve, could be as capable of giving.

“Of course, Papa,” Jyn finally acceded. “I understand.”

Her father nodded in relief. “Thank you, Jyn.”

“At the very least,” she offered, “I am confident in Mr. Donwell’s being a fit landowner and master of the house.”

Mr. Erso raised a brow. “Mr. Donwell?”

The confused looks Jyn’s parents gave her confounded her in return. Warily she said, “Has he not shown consistent interest in the property for the past few months? I assume you are to sell the land to him.”

Mr. Erso shook his head. “Oh, not quite. We had initially considered him, yes, but it would turn out that his offer was hardly sufficient to the amount we are selling it for.”

“So who is to buy it? Sir Krennic? Mr. Rook?”

Mr. Erso shared a look with his wife before answering, “Well, after some inquiries, we have found someone.”

Jyn leaned forward in anticipation. “Who?”

“A Mr. Cassian Andor,” answered her father.

Jyn’s brows furrowed together. The provision of a name hardly gave clarity to her bewilderment. In fact, it seemed to inflame in her a new state of disbelief; she felt a rising vexation at the idea of a stranger owning the house that had been so dear to her. 

Again she said, “Who?”

“He is a solicitor from Fest,” replied Mr. Erso. “He worked with Mr. Rook once to settle a matter with regards to his horses.” 

On a regular occasion, any person's good association to Jyn’s friend Bodhi should be a reliable commendation of their character, but it was altogether still inadequate in alleviating her doubts of him. She could not so easily approve of him, especially when she considered him in the capacity of taking Lah’mu from her family, and of being her very close neighbor, if he proved to be dislikable.

She found herself giving his character what was perhaps undue judgment. 

“A solicitor,” she said, unimpressed. 

“I admit,” Mr. Erso said, “it baffled me at first that a man of such occupation could even afford such a purchase, but tides have also begun to change in recent years. Even men who work can make enough money these days. He has offered a large sum, more than enough for what we are hoping to do for the farms, and with some to spare for the matters of this house.”

So he was rich, Jyn thought. It didn’t faze her regard for him in the slightest. A man could have all the wealth of the world, but it did not signify his worth for anything.

So she asked, “And what of him? What of his character? Does he have the disposition required to be a master of Lah’mu?” 

Mr. Erso seemed slightly taken aback by her rapid inquiries. “Mr. Rook vouched for his abilities, and it was actually upon this good recommendation that we felt confident in pursuing the trade with him. And from what I have ascertained of him from our discussions so far in the previous month, he is of agreeable character. He asks the right questions, and entertains all of mine with care. He is steady but clever in his approach to negotiation. I can see why he is prosperous in his occupation. He said he has been in practice for twelve years.”

Jyn raised a brow. She doubted a man who possessed the skill of influence and persuasion—and made an entire living out of it—revealed anything about his virtue. If anything, it might reveal the lack of it, as those who did not have anything worthwhile to say, she knew from experience, would instead rely on an elegant turn of phrase.

She was about to ask further, but Mr. Erso reached out a hand to hold hers, which she did not realize until now, had been fraying at the seams of a doily. “Jyn. You need not worry yourself with him. You will meet him soon, and I have faith you will like him.” 

Jyn finally relented, though not without the effort to make her disapprobation known. As to the claim made, it was something she had yet to see for herself. And so began her anticipation for the newcomer’s arrival, a feeling characteristic of both caution and genuine curiosity. 

“When will he settle in the house?” she asked.

“We are hoping within the month, if we are quick."

The silence that followed seemed to finally signify the end of the conversation. Jyn was about ready to remove herself from the table, maybe even take the rest of the morning to muse on these new developments, when suddenly, in a grave tone that unnerved her, Mr. Erso said:

“Jyn. We have another issue we would like to discuss with you.”

All of Jyn’s breakfast seemed to instantly gather to a point just above her stomach. “What is it?”

Mr. Erso sighed. “Look, I’m not getting any younger,” he began, “and my lungs are growing weaker by the year. Though it is unfortunate, we do not know how long I have left.”

Incredulous, Jyn let out a sharp, dry chuckle. “That is ridiculous, Papa. You have many years ahead of you.”

“Yet we must think about it now,” he replied, unaffected, matter-of-factly. “In the event of my passing, I had fought to break the entail over my properties. If you would remember, I had ensured that while your distant cousin would inherit the estate, all my money would be yours to take.”

That was when the seed of suspicion had begun to grow on Jyn’s mind. Warily she responded, “Yes, I remember.”

“But,” Mr. Erso proceeded carefully, “as we have suffered significant loss, and should something occur to me now, what you will be left with may no longer be enough to sustain you.”

From that point on, Mrs. Erso took over the conversation, which seemed to now affirm Jyn’s supposition. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. 

“Jyn, dearest,” said her mother, “we know that you do not really seek to be married, and we have generally supported it because we understood that you would be secure regardless. But given our new circumstances, we might have to rethink things.” 

Jyn usually reveled in discovering her conjectures to be correct. Yet now, she found no such cause of celebration. “You are not saying what I think you are saying.” 

Mrs. Erso’s look was dead serious. “I am. Perhaps it is time, Jyn.” 

Jyn shook her head eagerly. “No, mother. No.”

“Dearest,” insisted Mrs. Erso, “it is the only way we can secure a livable future for you.”

Jyn rose from her seat. In a tone that grew more desperate she said, “I will not get married. I will not do it.”

“Jyn, please—”

“What if I can settle with what I am to receive? I do not mind receiving less. I can still not get married, don’t I?” 

“You do not understand, Jyn. You may be left with practically nothing, if it comes down to it. It will not matter anymore if you have your freedom; you might not have enough to even support your primary comforts.” 

Jyn could feel the corners of the breakfast room close in on her in rapid speed, perfectly in sync with her lungs that seemed to constrict, making her every breath shallower and shallower. 

“This—” she buried her face in her hands “ —this is too much to take in, Mama. First losing Lah’mu, now this. No, this is too much.” 

“I know,” said her mother with such gentleness that almost made Jyn believe her entire world was not currently spinning on its axis. Finally at her wits end, she stood and hurried to an open window. Outside, the fields of Vallt Park laid like a soft green cloth that had fallen upon the land, the gentle slopes of its hills like the folds of its fabric. To every sense in her body, the scenery should have been beautiful, but Jyn could only find it so unpleasant to look at.

There she stood for quite a while in silence, feeling herself caught in the moment just before the tidal wave, as though the earth beneath her was bracing itself, creating the momentum that would eventually pull the ocean in. 

Mr. Erso felt his mouth open in an attempt to offer some consolation, but no such words, at least anything that he thought would be enough for his daughter, came out. His wife, however, knew exactly what to say. She stood from her seat and walked towards Jyn. 

“Jyn.” She placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Up close, Jyn beheld her mother’s face, observing the features that looked almost exactly like hers. She wondered if she would look just the same when she would grow to her age. 

She took both of Jyn’s hands into her own. “Jyn, I feel your anguish. Things are suddenly on the verge of change, and I can only imagine what you must be going through at this moment.”

Jyn was already turning away, ready to resist the persuasions of the incoming oration, but Mrs. Erso lightly shook her by her hand as if to tether her back. “But sometimes,” she said firmly, “we have to do what we must. We must sell Lah’mu. We must find means to survive. For you, that means marrying.”

“Mama,” Jyn pleaded, “you of all people know my feelings on the matter.”

“I do,” reassured Mrs. Erso.

“So you know that I have no desire whatsoever to marry anybody.”

“I know.”

“And, on the chance that I did, well, I had always thought that it would at least be because of love.”

Her mother nodded. “I know.”

“There is something I fundamentally seek in the ordeal of matrimony, Mama, the feeling that it is worth it, the feeling that I entered it because I wholeheartedly wanted to.” Jyn tightened her grip on her mother’s hands. “I am not feeling any of those things right now.” 

Mrs. Erso tucked a lock of hair behind Jyn’s ear. Softly she replied, “But Jyn, you say that you want freedom, too, do you not? To study, to explore — as you have the right to. To not be married affords you this, yes, but you may find it in marriage, too.”

“How?” 

“Once your children are grown, you may have more time to yourself to pursue these things.” 

Jyn suddenly pondered upon the fact of her being the only child of the family, and wondered if her birth and her childhood, for a time, had deprived her mother of the time she would’ve preferred to spend elsewhere. She met her mother’s eyes. “Mama, is this why you and father did not have any more children after me?” 

“Oh, no,” quickly supplied her mother, fully absorbing Jyn’s meaning, “I have not, for once, regretted having brought you into life, remember that.” She then chuckled lightheartedly. “No, we did not have any more children because, well, imagine if we put one more of you onto this earth. I do not think it would be able to handle it. You have already stirred this town alone.”

“I hope you mean that as a compliment.”

Mrs. Erso nodded. “I do. You are a force to be reckoned with, Jyn. You have time and time again proven that. You are smart, and you are clever.”

“Yet I’ll have nothing to show for it now, apparently.” 

“Look, I do not deny that some women in certain marriages are unhappy. But for you, you still have the option to turn this around to your advantage. It is just a matter of finding the right partner.”

Jyn frowned. “And who would that even be? I have practically injured every man in this town with my rejections to have any of them view me as a prospect again.”

Mrs. Erso pursed her lips in thought, but Jyn could tell that she had already given it much thought for quite some time now. “Well, you and Philip have known each other for a while. Though he does not say it, I think we all know of his interest in you.”

Jyn could not help but laugh dryly. “Philip, the son of Sir Krennic?”

“Come on, now. It gives him credit, as he is the eldest and therefore heir of his estate. And he is agreeable, is he not? You always engage in conversation during assemblies, and he often calls on us to see you.” 

“As a moderately warm friend,” Jyn supplied. Her mouth hung open, the right words not coming right to her. “I—I suppose Philip is agreeable, yes, but I have never viewed our friendship in such a way. You really do not expect me to marry him.” 

“But you have at least agreed to his being agreeable. These sentiments do not have to change or become more than what they are. Your amiability is more than sufficient reason to enter into a marriage with him. In fact, it is even more than what most marriages could ask for.” 

Jyn grimaced.

“I do implore you, dear,” her mother added in lieu of her silence. “If you get to know him better, you might even warm up to it.” 

“Mama,” Jyn finally said, “I know that you are giving me sound reasons to go through with marriage, but I cannot pretend that these have any power over my mortification. It does not change how I feel.”

“I know it does not. I do not expect it to.” Mrs. Erso cupped Jyn’s face in both her hands, held her close, and planted a kiss on her forehead. Quietly she said, “But remember, Jyn, there are worse fates than being married off well.”

To this, Jyn could no longer find any protestation. She could feel reluctant (if not at all opposed) as much as wanted, but she was beginning to understand that perhaps there was nothing more she could do but to accept her fate, just as much as her mother could not do anything now, but persuade her to it.

Helplessly, she watched the wick of her fantasies slowly burn out to the long overdue solicitation of the purpose, which women like her seemed to be born into, and which she could no longer, by any justification, postpone.

The reputation of Jyn Erso’s enduring luck, since this moment, had already begun to tarnish.

On a lighter note Mrs. Erso said, “The Rook ball is in a fortnight. You can use that as an opportunity to get to know Philip better.”

The thing was, Jyn was not at all opposed to the merriments of a party — dancing, in particular, was her favorite. If her bodily energy could not at all deplete, she would go up to four dances a night, if she pleased. But now, the sound of attending her good friend Bodhi’s ball with the purpose of baring herself out to a marriage prospect, had soured the possible joys it might bring—especially since she was in part, an architect of the party at his behest.

In such a brief moment in time, Jyn's world suddenly changed. Terrified, she looked to her mother. For a moment, they shared a look, and Jyn knew then, that an understanding had just passed between them.

Stiffly, she nodded. "I cannot wait."

[whimsicallyconfusedforlife]

Told my 9 year old about the connection between the shows and now we are rewatching The Book of Life. Diego Luna playing men whose mum died when he was young just adds to the emotions. 😢😢

Why did nobody warn me I’d be sobbing by the time I got to the end of Maya and the Three!?! Sobbing!! My rebel captain parallels did not help!!!

[shortson]

i’ve had the most annoying urge these last few days to write a rebelcaptain au fic set in the locked tomb world with the insane insane necromancer/cavalier dynamic and i also just want to write cassian as a ninth house reverend son and jyn as his feral cavalier (and also the potential for meeting during childhood au within this……..) and i read that post on how writing fic is GOOD for ur mental health because of the slow dopamine release but!!! someone now needs to tell my brain!!!!! slow dopamine release!!!!!! is good for you!!!!!!!!! because my brain says no!!!!!!! too much work!!!!!!!!!! booooo!!!!!!!!!!!!

[eurydia]

Hello again, young rebelcaptain lover. :3 It's your Secret Santa speaking, from a very secret place. ^^ So - because this place is a little bit quiet, and, as you know, there is a lot of work ahead of me and the elves (and there is possibility we will be forced to ask the Clones for help) - can you suggest some playlist for us? With your favourite bands, or songs? Maybe some of them will be inspiration for your gift. c:

Sending love and some snowy hugs~

Santa&company

Hello my lovely RebelCaptain Secret Santa!! This is such a hard question because there’s a lot I associate with them 🤣💖 a lot are in this fanmix I made for an old rp: maybe we’re home

I also love Mumford and Son’s “Home” for them. Some of my fave bands/musicians (no particular order, sorry had a hard time narrowing it down):

Lana Del Rey, Arctic Monkeys, Joji, Sufjan Stevens, Dry the River, Low Roar, Lorde, Matt Maeson, Hozier, Fall Out Boy, Twenty One Pilots, Halsey

Here’s a playlist of some of my fave songs over the years: [Eurydia’s Faves]

I’m always down to discover new music though! I hope this helps, I love talking about this and would be happy to elaborate. Let me know if there’s anything else I can help with. Sending hugs and love! 💜

[cherrybombfangirlwrites]

Get to Know the Writer/Nine People Tag!

tagged by: @lena-rambles thanks!

tagging: Open Tag as usual, and soft tagging @italiangothicwriteblr | @lyralit | @andromeda-rising-897 | @did-i-do-this-write | @circa-specturgia | @motswriting | @writersandpoetsunited | @corishadowfang | @violets-in-her-arms-writes

three ships ; rebelcaptain (rogue one), goldenheart (nimona), jack and sally (the nightmare before christmas)

last song ; Broken Crown by Mumford and Sons, always a favorite of mine

last movie ; Beattlejuice on Halloween night with my siblings

favourite colour ; black and purple, they're the colors of the ace flag after all <3

sweet / spicy / savoury ; sweet! (and sour!)

currently watching ; I'm still mad after how Ahsoka ended, so I've been rewatching Andor to feel better, i just rewatched the Narkina 5 arc, it's my favorite part (I can't wait for Season 2!)

currently reading ; rereading the How to Train Your Dragon books. Currently on one of my favorites, How to Cheat a Dragon's Curse- aka The Great Potato Heist <3

currently craving ; cream of potato soup because it's soup season at our house and it's finally cold enough to eat hot soup all the time (it gets really hot during the summer where I live)

currently working on ; did a tiny bit for my Beauty and the Beast retelling for FSF, and A LOT of TCIO

last thing you searched for writing purposes ; Jewish food and clothes because I wrote some stuff for Chase today and I wanted to make sure I got stuff things as correct as I could while I wrote a scene with them and his Grandmother. I find that the Jewish Virtual Library is a great go-to for researching Jewish stuff, it's very helpful as a non jewish person!

[pfirsichspritzer]

ho ho hoowwww are you doing? it's your rebelcaptain secret santa with some holiday magic 🌟 question: what would you name jyn and cassian's second child? assume that their first child does have a name already. and one more: if has a cassian scarf, what color should it be? 🎄🎁🎉🎊

Hello, I’m quite well, thank you 😊🎄

That’s actually a very tough question because I’m not really good at naming children. I often feel that the names I come up with for their kids either don’t fit them or don’t fit in the Star Wars universe. 😅

I really liked the idea of them naming their son Jeron. Because it is Cassian’s middle name I assumed it was his father’s name. But now after Andor I’m not so sure anymore. If Maarva gave him that name, I’m not the biggest fan of them naming their child that way.

I recently named their son Theo in a WIP and for a daughter I have played with the name Alba or Alexandra, but I’m not sure.

Definitely dark blue, because that colour looks really good on him

[andorerso]

Rebelcaptain daughter: "Mama, Papa, I can make baby talk." Jyn and Cassian on high alert, there was a lot of effort and sabotage put in to make sure kid 2's first word is either Mama or Papa. Daughter, holds cat up to the baby. Rebelcaptain son: "Jabba-mao!" Daughter, the menace - feeling very accomplished. Jyn - barely restraining her urge to throttle Cassian in front of the children. Cassian - too stunned that they're 0 for 2 against the cat, who is the clear favourite.

Jabba is a very cute cat though, can you blame them <3

anyway yes, this is exactly how it goes 😭

[jyndor]

[rotzaprachim]

i’m not normally one for kidfic and just like, actively dislike a bunch of fandom manifestations of it for rebelcaptain and you know what i have? like four drafts involving a Child in some form or another. something about how profoundly jyn’s story is about being someone’s daughter and cassian’s story is about being someone’s son and star wars in general is so centrally organised, in plot, among relationships between parents and children is just like. material for days and days and days 

[mindphallus]

And I took you by the hand

And we stood tall,

And remembered our own land,

What we lived for.

[starxdust22]

And the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view

And we'll live a long life

[ao3lovesfandoms]

Star Wars vs Ao3 tags  Part 4/??

[asunachinadoll]

creator appreciation tag!

Ahhh I was tagged by the amazing @eatsleepandsing! Thank you so much for thinking of me for this <3333

RULES: It’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works.

In no particular order, here we go :D

1. breathe in the stardust and feel yourself become whole

I just reread this one the other day and lemme tell you... I still really love this fic. There is just something about the softness of Din and his son hanging out at the beach for 6k+ words that does it for me hahaha

2. my heart is with yours in another life

Mandomera has such a special place in my heart. So special in fact that they are the first ship I’ve ever written for! And I’m so glad because I have met very cool mutuals because of it ;)

3. cut open my veins and see the cosmos i bleed for you

My first 5+1 things! I loved writing and posting this fic chapter by chapter. It was so fun reading people’s reactions!! <33

4. it is easier to confess to the void than to your beautiful smile

Rebelcaptain also has a very special place in my heart. I especially love this little fic TvT

5. it takes strength (you gave it to me)

The season two finale destroyed me as much as it destroyed everyone else so this was my way of coping, and I still like the end result!

+ Bonus of probably my favorite art piece I did last year hahaha

Thanks so much for all the love and support I received last year!!! And to all of my lovely mutuals as well <333

I tag (with no pressure!!): @amukmuk @plainrea @sadieandor @woahpip @andorerso @briamarie38 @cats-and-metersticks @eternalqueenofthemyscira @rockwithaciggie @fulcrumstardust @incognitajones @sheena-is-a-punk-rocker @foxlace @communistkenobi @nikibogwater @cacodaemonia and whoever else wants to join in!! 😊😊😊💕💕💕