#the end quote is from andor

[luthanraels-bignaturals]

I don’t think I’ve seen anyone else talking about how karmic Fitzjames’ fate was.

From the perspective of the artic, it’s a revenge story. His wounds- the wounds he always bragged about, which he got from helping imperialize and plunder, wounds he got from people trying to protect their homes- literally reopening themselves???? This place wants us dead??? “Our ghosts have strong hands and long memories” type beat????

[intermundia]

i think my biggest frustration with the way many fans discuss star wars is the disdain they have for the genre of the movies and the way they dismiss the context for why they are the way they are. there's almost a contempt for the stylistic choices made; they wish that the movies were more like action movies than heroic space fantasy.

i like that they are stylized. i like the genre. i do not wish they were different. it surprises people when talking to them about star wars when i'm not eager to rag on the movies for repetitive or silly dialogue or things like that. it's like a large part of star wars fans love to hate star wars for being star wars. i am not part of that group.

i think that the star wars: magic of myth exhibition book is a great read that provides much essential context. there's a quote in there from science fiction author brian aldiss who defined 'space opera' in 1974:

Ideally, the Earth must be in peril, there must be a quest and a man to meet the mighty hour. That man must confront aliens and exotic creatures. Space must flow past the ports like wine from a pitcher. Blood must run down the palace steps, and ships launch out into the louring dark. There must be a woman fairer than the skies and a villain darker than the Black Hole. And all must come right in the end.

lucas's project is not realism, he is not a character-driven director! he is concerened with cinema as the moving image, loves speed and visual impact, soaring music and clear archetypal action. his dialogue is not naturalistic patter, just as the costumes are not streetwear. it's a movie shaped by its references to flash gordon and buck rogers.

it's melodramatic and obvious in its narrative goals, there's no secret to whether or not darth vader or the emperor are bad guys, you know? it's not about parsing their intentions, it's about how their dark looming figures fills the screen and enters the public consciousness as avatars of evil. luke, leia, obi-wan, all wearing white, are heroes to inspire and emulate.

those who dislike an elevated artifical style, who only want andor rather than flash gordon, are engaging with the material in a way that's simply different from the way i am, so we just talk past each other lol

[goingroguepod]

Ok. So.

"Oh my god, no" is a great pull quote. Looks great on a tweet, great on a t-shirt, but the actually interesting thing he said is buried in the article - "That’s the absolute best version of that movie that you could possibly imagine in the time that was given.”

It's no secret that Gilroy came on after the directors cut, with a limited timeframe for rewrites and reshoots. He ended up running a lot of those reshoots and his regular editor (and brother) John also joined the edit team. They had maybe six months (less with sound mix, VFX etc). Gilroy ended up with a screenplay credit which means that he must have written at least a third of the final film. Again, came on after the directors cut. He rewrote at least a third of the directors cut. And he did the best he could in the time he had.

But the thing is, Andor is a do-over of Rogue One.

There's an undercover break-in to a secure imperial facility by a group of mismatched rebels. Cassian spends time in an Imperial prison labour camp, just like Jyn did (very briefly) in the opening of R1.

There's the devastating death of a parent, a mining city with its own culture being slowly crushed under an Imperial occupation, a career driven Imperial enemy who you kinda root for cos they're surrounded by even bigger assholes.

There's a rebel leadership divided about how much they can sacrifice on missions that might lead to nothing. The Heist crew even has a queer couple divided by one person's single minded faith and use of violence, and a key team member who is an imperial traitor.

And Cassian's central character arc in Andor is going from an apolitical survivor who only looks out for himself because he's paid the price for trying to change the system, to someone who is willing to die for the cause.

Which, on paper, is also Jyn's arc in Rogue One.

But Andor had time. It has about four times the runtime of Rogue One to actually dig deep into the characters, and to actually set-up and play out tensions in the heist and prison arcs.

And it also had time in pre-production. Time to write the damn scripts. Gilroy had time to bounce ideas back and forth with his brother Dan and Beau Willimon, stress testing the story and the episodes and the characters, then they split the scripts and wrote full arcs. In the scripting stage. Not after principal photography, like he had on Rogue One. From those scripts, Luke Hull had the time to build a full, immersive sets and worlds. Michael Wilkinson got to develop a language around the costuming. Nicholas Britell had time to write a full symphony for the score (Michael Giaccino had 4 weeks to write Rogue One's music).

So if you want to know what Tony Gilroy's directors cut of Rogue One looks like - it's Andor.

[angstandhappiness]

Neat. I await eagerly for more when you can

My brain keeps kicking around what it would look like if the version of Atreus of Sparta that exists in my brain met the version of Faye that exists in my brain, all roads lead back to “it takes Kratos under five minutes to realize introducing them was a mistake.”

[randomthefox]

Which Sonic characters would you say are the hottest preds?

Tails is always sort of my default when it comes to preds among the Sonic cast, for a lot of reasons. Personal bias for one. Foxy bias. That also means he's a species that is much higher up on the food chain than basically everyone else in the cast aside from Vector. So he always feels very naturally befitting for that role, to me.

But honestly I can imagine effectively every single member of the Sonic cast as either pred or prey, given the scenario. I could even imagine a scenario with Charmy Bee guzzling down the preys lol. They could all eat or be eaten by one another, in my mind. Though I do tend to prefer imagining that it's a different universe or setting depending on who's filling what role, since I'm personally not very inclined to free vore all everybody can eat or be eaten by anybody type settings.

In terms of characters that I think lend to being preds the best in terms of personality, I'd say Eggman is probably the top since he's already got so many canonical quotes which you can easily slap over a vore pic and it would fit that context without needing to change a single word. I mean, they'd have to be fatal vore pics, which I personally do not enjoy, but I mean still come on.

bro is vorny on main, absolutely.

Werehog is also a good fit for it, being the howling stretching beasty boy and all. Just let those hungry urges run loose for a bit, as a treat~

Oh a pretty common scenario I tend to go back to is Knuckles as the guardian swallowing up folks who arrive on Angel Island. Like an alternate version of Sonic 3 where when Sonic andor Tails show up, Knuckles the pent up tribal island stud just seduces and swallows the interloping boy(s) right up, patting his bulging ab toned belly and belching as he sauntering back to the shrine gut sloshing with every step<3

Rouge I think would also be inclined to being pred, maybe swallowing up security guards when she's sneaking into a place. Or gulping folks down for the sake of holding them for ransom. Or just being a general vamp and teasing or taunting folks she's trying to sweet talk with mawshots and stuff like that. Imagine this whole scene but Rouge is licking her lips and patting her growling belly while talking to Tails. She's got the chops for it, I think.

Vector and Big as well feel like natural preds, given their body types. I guess I don't personally tend to think of them in the front of my mind very often, they're not incredibly high on my list of characters that hook my interest. But given their size and species and with the right scenario their personalities can be very inclined for eating folks up too. Vector maybe swallowing up a client who welshes him on a job payment for example. And maybe Big having a dry spell when it comes to fishing so he swallows someone up to keep him fueled for the long hours of sitting by the lake, maybe falling asleep at some point and forgetting they're in there even after he does start catching fish, so they end up spending more than a few days churning in Big's belly along with some fried salmon piling in ontop of them.

Those are the ones that come to the top of my head when trying to think of which ones out of the cast seem to fit the best as natural preds in terms of personality. But like I said I can imagine every member of the cast as a pred lol. Sonic swallowing someone up while out on a morning job. Silver using his telekinesis to lift someone up and dunk them down his throat. Blaze having snackrifices brought to her to be a royal meal while she's doing paperwork at her desk. Ect.

they're all so fuckking hoottt Dx

[andorshitdaily]

Got two more for you: I believe this one's in episode 9. When Mon and Tay are discussing how solve the issue of missing funds in the Embassy. The way they talk and lean close to each other. Their body language is SO LOUD.

From episode 10, the wide shot of Mon, Tay and Sculdun all sitting on that round couch. Mon in the center, and one of them on either side. The symmetry in that shot still transfixes me to this day. Was it intentional? A reflection of Mon being torn between tradition (Sculdun) and a new age (Tay) while building a rebellion perhaps? It's the one thing I would ask Tony Gilroy about if I could.

Mon also very well represented. i should not be surprised

i went a page too far in finding this one

and ended up with this, which amused me but is not what you said

but this one hell yeah!! (tony come on the podcast (we have not started the podcast))

Tell me your favorite Andor quote or screenshot because I'm bored and I miss it!

[tarisilmarwen]

Rebels Rewatch: "The Honorable Ones"

Kallus starts growing the nigglings of a conscience and also I never want to visit Bahryn ever.

Does this count as Friendship Fetch Quest episode? I mean... we do technically recruit an ally, albeit we make one out of a consistent former enemy, and he is important to things later...

Yeah, you know what, I'm counting it.

Geonosis looks gorgeous.

Oooooof SO many Death Star foreshadowings in this conversation. This is in fact where they started construction on the Mark I, as far back as the Clone Wars. Some time between now and then (Wookiepedia thinks it's between "Breaking Ranks" and now), the project was moved, the orbital stations scrapped, and the entire population of Geonosis genocided to conceal the project's existence.

Just, you know, your ordinary Tuesday for the Empire.

Hi Kallus!

Love Chopper getting to be an absolutely murderous psychopath again lolol.

Ohhhh hey, this cue is from back in "Droids In Distress" when they were about to blow up the ion disruptors. How fitting, lol.

Ezra is still Not Fond of leaving people behind.

He looks so worried. :(

Love how Kallus and Zeb stop fighting for a second when they realize they're about to crash. Matching Oh Crap expressions and everything.

Ngl, I felt that cry of agony deep in the recesses of my childhood.

(I fell off some parallel bars once in gym, didn't break anything, but my first scream? Sounded not too unlike that.)

Lol Ezra banging on Chopper. "Yes, we want him back! Don't be a sleemo!"

Jeez, how terrified Kallus must have been, stuck in the exact scenario that traumatized him so in the past. Lucky for our favorite asshole Zeb is the honorable type.

Yup, yeah, pissing his pants terrified. David does a really good job with Kallus this episode, it's one of the first times they let him show a bit more range and he does shrill and hysterical very nicely, if I may say so.

Kallus is so assured of the Empire's fairness and nobility, aww let's shatter that to pieces this episode. :D

Worried Ezra continues to be worried. <3

He is already shivering, nice little animation here. Also lol @ Zeb pettily pulling the heater closer towards him.

Ahhh the glowing rock of friendship. Love that Kallus keeps it after this.

"You're going to hurt yourself!" <3 See this mother hen behavior right here is why I stuck the Iron Squadron kids with him in my Mirrorverse series, Kallus being a fussy fretful Team Mom is hilarious.

Ah NOPE, nope, nah-uh. Nooooooo thank you.

The bonzami are actually really well-designed. They look like prehistoric dinosaurs of some kind. Definitely evocative of all my childhood nightmares about T-Rexes.

Kallus parroting the Might Makes Right and Social Darwinism of the Empire, leading to Zeb beginning to ask pointed questions.

Oh man there was a really good analysis on here someone did about Kallus's fighting style, how he's better at close quarters than distance/ranged, I wish I remembered who wrote it.

Subtle animation appreciation detail: That pinched guilt in Kallus's expression.

Oooh yeah, that's the good stuff.

Kallus launches into his tragic backstory, possibly to try and remind himself why he personally hates Lasats, rejustify in his head how it was okay for him not to question orders when told to use the ion disruptors--("They deserve it, they're bad people, they kill the injured!")--and the connection to Saw is not a coincidence I think, the writers expand heavily on the whole "It's how we fight that matters." and "The ends justify the means." conflict later on down the line. Numerous characters on this show like Saw and Thrawn and Kallus to an extent represent what happens when you go too far to fight those you consider monsters. I've always loved how firmly Rebels comes down on the side of "The means do matter."

Probably one of the reasons I'm still kind of relucant to watch Andor, I know fandom loves that "I burn myself for a sunrise I'll never see." quote but eehhhhhhhhh.

The exchange right after Kallus's story is a bit clunky, I get what the intent was--that there are people in the Empire who aren't cold and bloodthirsty and evil and the Rebels shouldn't write them all off like they're the same--but it's clumsily executed.

PPFFFFTTTTTT LOLOLOL. KALLUS CANNOT BELIEVE THE SHEER PETTINESS IN ZEB HURLING THE BO-RIFLE OUT OF THE CAVE RATHER THAN LET HIM HOLD IT.

Hey remember when I said I love David Oyelowo's hysterical Kallus voice? Yeah.

Zeb's prehensile feet put to good use again.

Ohhhhh yeah no that's absolutely a terrifying concept for me. Nope.

"Hey we didn't get eaten! Are we friends now?"

There's some debate in the fandom about the inconsistency of the stories Kallus tells from "Droids In Distress" to here. Some parts of fandom point to how he almost gleefully bragged about giving the order to use the ion disruptors and others point out that he couldn't possibly have been high enough in the ranks at that point to actually have the authority to do that.

I tend to fall more towards the latter camp, that he wasn't actually THE one to give the order but he didn't question it and passed it right along due to his prejudice against the Lasat, and only said what he said to Zeb to rile him up. As much as he hated Lasats though, there has been some guilt severely weighing on him since then, and I'm pretty sure it's partly due to his confusion over the Honor Guardsman giving him his bo-rifle. There was a note of aggravated self-defense in Kallus's voice when he explains to Zeb how it was given to him, like he's dispensing with an act and being all, "All right look here's how it really happened."

This conversation is slightly less clear but to me reads like Kallus is detailing his thoughts from the moment he'd been given the order. Like it's mid-battle and it's going harder than they anticipated and the weapons are handed out and he's told to use them and he realizes, "Oh. The Empire is not playing around are they?" and he shoves down his own potential qualms about it and just passes on the order.

Zeb, having had his character development, is dismissive of Kallus's attempt to explain the massacre, saying that it doesn't affect him anymore, basically.

They're so happy to see him. <3

Awwwwwww.

Subtle animation appreciation moment: Zeb's little elbow bump to Ezra's arm as they climb up the ramp.

Ohhhhhh man the behind the scenes had a little plot bit that they should have kept, basically it was not the Empire that retrieved Kallus from Bahryn, it was a scavenger ship, the Empire spent a paltry two rotations looking for him and then wrote him off, he had to make his way back to them on his own.

Konstantine doesn't even look at him.

:((((((

Kallus's redemption is a bit of a polarizing topic in fandom. Personally I'm very fond of it, I like Kallus as an antagonist-turned-Rebel, I think he's a lot of fun post Heel Face Turn and the many myriad fanfics that bridge the gap between "Zero Hour" and Season 4 featuring Kallus slowly blending in to the Spectres are among some of my favorites.

But it's also one of my major nitpicks because it's a bit lacking in legwork. Show👏me👏the legwork!👏 Like 90% of all writing problems can be solved just by expending some effort. Don't just have Kallus as the new Fulcrum offscreen between seasons I need to SEE it.

That being said, this is a mostly tightly written Locked In A Room type episode, well-paced, decently animated. Fandom definitely loves it and I'll still give it fairly regular rewatches since it's another of the husband's favorites.

Next up, we return again to Lothal for Force Weirdness.

[hottpinkpenguin]

Reasons, Ch.3 - Cassian Andor series

Female reader insert Summary: You're a droidsmith on Ferrix when a handsome stranger walks in one day with a hopelessly damaged droid. You agree to take on the repairs for the stranger, a decision that will change the direction of your lives forever. Word Count: 2,029 Content Warnings for: canon-divergence; parental death; cursing Taglist: @mithicakurogo @nonniecannie

The chanting crowd fell silent as you stepped forward, your father’s funerary brick clasped in your trembling hands. Your hair was plastered to the sides of your face, cold raindrops running down the back of your neck and mixing with the tears you couldn’t seem to staunch. One of the Daughters of Ferrix smiled gently at you from, standing next to the city wall where your father’s brick was to be placed. She extended a hand towards you, beckoning you forward. You felt your feet carry you towards her. You lifted the brick - now slick with the cold morning rain - and slotted it into the rectangular hole in the wall. You marveled at the way the brick fit into the wall perfectly, indistinguishable from its neighbors. You wondered if you’d be able to find it again, or if eventually you’d walk by the wall and not be able to pick out the only piece of your father that remained. Your vision grew blurry with tears as you tried to keep your lip from trembling. 

“Well done, my dear.” The Daughter of Ferrix wrapped a wiry arm around your shoulders, gently guiding you back from the wall. The solemn crowd lingered a few moments longer before you heard the scattered sounds of wet soles squelching away. You kept your eyes fixed on your father’s brick, burning its location into your memory. The sky grew darker with your mood, rain now falling off the ends of your hair in plump droplets. More of the crowd thinned and returned to their lives behind you. 

You weren’t entirely sure how long you stood there. When you finally turned to begin the journey back to an empty house, only the Daughters of Ferrix and a handful of your father’s oldest friends remained. They took their cue from you and turned to leave, the final remnants of the funerary procession dissolving into the rain. You exited the square in the direction of your shop and your home - as you were now the sole owner of both - without a backwards glance. If you had looked back, you might have seen a familiar face, his dark eyes following your every movement. And although you’d never know, Cassian Andor was the last resident of Ferrix to pay his respects to your father. 

* * * * * * * * *

Three Weeks Later

“Kenth, you and I both know that quote is twice the price we agreed on and I won’t pay it.” 

You narrowed your eyes at the Abednedos junk dealer. Ever since you’d taken over your father’s business full-time, his long-time suppliers had all tried to jack up the prices on your standing orders. You knew it was their way of testing you. Your father had warned you that this would happen in the months before his passing, and you had promised him that you wouldn’t let his suppliers take advantage of you. What your father hadn’t anticipated was how dizzyingly flush with credits you would be, thanks to Cassian’s hefty first payment for your work on his droid. Even though Kenth’s new price would hardly make a dent in the credit stash you now had, out of respect for your father, you set yourself to the unpleasant task of haggling the price down.

“That was the price for your father, girl. This is the price for you. Pay it or walk.” 

Abednedos were notoriously stubborn, and Kenth was no exception. You held his gaze, chewing on your lip as you considered your next move.

“I’ll pay two hundred more than the price you set with my father and not a credit more.” 

Kenth scoffed at your counter-offer, his black eyes filled with mirth. You bristled, eager to end the transaction. Your customer list had grown exponentially in the wake of your father’s death, many of his longest-standing patrons sending you tedious work in what you knew were gestures of condolence. Each moment you spent here haggling over a price you could easily pay ten times over without batting an eye was eating into precious repair time. 

“Four hundred if you throw in that DD-13.” You gestured towards the medical droid in the corner, its smooth black surface glinting in the harsh light of Kenth’s shop. He looked over at the droid thoughtfully for an instant before he extended a hand towards you.

“Done.” You accepted his handshake, returning his grip forcefully. You knew your father would be disappointed that you’d accepted anything higher than what he had paid, but you saw the bargain as a win. DD-13’s were some of the most valuable droids in all the Galaxy, their parts easy to replace and their skillset unparalleled. The fact that Kenth just sold you one for a measly two hundred credits showed you that his knowledge of droids was lacking. You could use that to your advantage in the future. 

“Let’s go, X8.” Your reprogrammed pilot droid chirped cheerily behind you as he wheeled over to the large, wooden crate of spare charge stations you’d just purchased. You counted out the credits you owed Kenth, splaying them on the glass-bottomed desk in front of him. His beady black eyes fixed you with a cold stare as he watched you finish counting out your payment. You’d been careful not to bring too many credits with you: you knew enough of pirates and gangs to know that walking around with too much money put a target on your back. Even so, you had a sum large enough to make you jumpy, and Kenth had noticed.

“Where’d you get all these credits then?” He picked one up, inspecting it against the lights. 

“My inheritance,” you replied coldly. It wasn’t true, of course. Your father hadn’t left you anything but the deed to his shop and the living quarters above it because that was all he had to give. However, you’d learned rather quickly that implying otherwise about your newly deceased father made others uncomfortable, and usually shut down any improper lines of questioning.

Kenth looked conflicted. He was as shrewd as he was stubborn, and you knew that he sensed there was more to the story than what you were letting on. But you also saw the greedy glint in his eyes. After a moment of indecision, he yielded and scooped up the loose credits on his desk. 

“Fair enough. My condolences, by the way.” You nodded curtly, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

With his arms full of credits, Kenth turned and barked something in Abednedish at the DD-13 droid. The tall, humanoid-looking black droid sprang to life and walked over to you. 

“I am S-QL7, your medical assistant,” it informed you, its voice pleasant and sing-songy. You gestured in the direction of X8, who was piloting the hover-lift with the charge station crate on it up into the loading bay of your ship outside Kenth’s shop.

“X8 will make sure you have everything you need,” you replied. S-QL7 strode off with long, loping strides in the direction of your awaiting ship. 

“I’ll be back in three months,” you called over your shoulder at Kenth as you followed S-QL7 out. You exited the shop, eager to get home and make a dent in your customer list.

* * * * * * * * *

Four Days Later

You shot up in bed, your spine ramrod straight with adrenaline as the echo of shattering glass faded in the darkness around you. You reached under your mattress, feeling for your blaster. Your ears strained into the quiet of your quarters, listening for something, anything. A faint layer of sweat beaded over your body as you slid off your bed, careful not to make too much noise as your feet hit the cold concrete floor.

Your hand closed on the muzzle of your blaster as you  heard the muffled sound of crunching glass. Your heart jolted in your chest, the realization that you weren’t alone sharpening your senses. You forced yourself to breathe quietly as you slid your blaster out from its hiding place, careful not to scrape the metal of your weapon against the wooden bottom of the bunk. 

“Y/n? Y/n, are you there?” A vaguely familiar voice was whispering your name from the main room of your living quarters. 

“Y/n, it’s me. Cassian.” 

You froze, fear making you second-guess whether you really recognized the voice or if it was your mind hearing what it wanted to. Your mouth went dry as every muscle in your body went tight, intent on listening.

“I need to talk to you. Are you in there?” 

The voice was getting closer to your room now, soft footsteps tracking the intruder’s presence across the main room towards your bedroom door. 

“Cassian?” Your reply sounded small and terrified.

A shadow materialized in your doorway. 

“Y/n, don’t shoot. It’s me.”

Speaking in normal tones, you recognized the gentle lilt in his voice, an accent you’d never been able to place. You let go of the breath you’d been holding, standing up and flicking on your bedside lamp. The light illuminated Cassian’s sharp profile, casting half his face in deep shadow. He shot you a cautious grin as he tossed his hands up. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” you snapped. With the initial adrenaline surge fading, you were left feeling angry at the intrusion. 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” He closed the distance between you. As he approached, you noted the tense energy that hummed around him, the shifty way his eyes darted over his shoulder as if he expected something - or someone - to be closing in on his back. It reminded you of the first time you’d met Cassian, the afternoon he’d barged into your shop insisting that you fix his hopelessly damaged droid. 

“What’s going on?” you asked. Cassian grabbed you by the shoulders, not enough to hurt but with the pressure of a desperate man. It startled you, although you weren’t entirely sure you could blame your heart flipping over in your chest solely on nerves. 

“Do you have them? The credits I gave you? Tell me you didn’t spend them.” His eyes were wide and pleading, the note of anguish in his voice scaring you.

“Cassian, what are you talking about? Tell me what’s going on.” He shook his head, growing impatient.

“The credits, y/n. Where are the credits?” 

“I have them, they’re here.” You inclined your chin in the direction of your closet, where you kept your credits and other valuables in a small safe at the back. You saw Cassian’s shoulders relax somewhat before you spoke again. “Most of them.”

The same prickle of tension flared to life in his eyes as he met your gaze. 

“How many did you spend?” When he spoke, his voice was barely louder than a whisper. 

“A few thousand,” you replied quietly. The brief flicker of relief splintered in Cassian’s eyes, replaced by a guilt so deep you couldn’t see the bottom. It made you want to reach out and touch him, comfort him. Before you could, his head dropped momentarily, his hands still holding on to the top of your arms as if he were close to getting sucked away in a strong current. When he raised his eyes back to yours, you saw the effort with which he shut out the guilt. 

“We need to leave. Pack only what you can carry.” His voice was so cold it burned. You opened your mouth to argue, a million questions jockeying at the tip of your tongue.

He silenced you with a soft, sad shake of his head. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked, his voice stretched taut between faltering hope and a wretched twang of remorse. The sound stifled every conflicting thought in your throat. Before you knew what you were doing, you nodded in reply. 

“Then pack up. We’re leaving Ferrix. Tonight. I don’t know when we’ll be back… if we’ll be back.” 

You froze momentarily, the gravity of Cassian’s words settling on you like a heavy blanket. You hesitated only a few short breaths before you felt your decision click into place as naturally as a key in a lock. 

This time when Cassian left, you left with him.

*read chapter 4 here If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, please let me know

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

I just read your post about Yoda's "do, or do not, there is not try" and I am curious how you would compare it to Nemiks manifesto from andor, specifically the end with "Remember this. Try." I've seen a few people talking about how This is better than Yoda's quote and it's opinions on trying, and I am interested in hearing your thoughts

I haven't watched Andor, sorry. I've heard it's a really good show but there are no Jedi 😅

Honestly? I don't see why you'd need to compare the two like they're incompatible. It feels like that quote above is about life in a more general sense? If so, that's also how the Jedi live, they don't just give up and quit. Yoda's advice, as I said, was circumstantial - and it was also about not quitting. At a certain point I feel like pitting quotes against each other like that is just bickering about words. In essence, the messages are much in the same vein.

[quote-tournament]

Second round, tenth fight

Quote number 38 :

"Life is only precious because it ends, kid. Take it from a god. You mortals don't know how lucky you are."

-Mars, Rick Riordan's The Son of Neptune

VS

Quote number 40 :

"Calm. Kindness. Kinship. Love. I've given up all chances at inner peace. I've made my mind a sunless space. I share my dreams with ghosts. I wake up every day to an equation I wrote 15 years ago from which there's only one conclusion: I'm damned for what I do. My anger, my ego, my unwillingness to yield, my eagerness to fight, they've set me on a path from which there's no escape. I yearned to be a savior against injustice without contemplating the cost and by the time I looked down, there was no longer any ground beneath my feet.

What is my sacrifice? I'm condemned to use the tools of my enemy to defeat them. I burn my decency for someone else's future. I burn my life to make a sunrise that I know I'll never see. And the ego that started this fight will never have a mirror or an audience or the light of gratitude. So what do I sacrifice? Everything!”

-Luthen Rael, Andor (2022)

[hegodamask]

Okay, trying not to post too much of my face on here these days but please can I talk about Denise Gough for a second because!! I just! I..! 💀

She 100% made my Celebration. I very rarely do things like this because I get so nervous about embarrassing myself. But she was just so lovely in the short time I met her.

Full embarrassing ramble under the cut:

So the photo-op was a super quick in-and-out, but when Denise saw me she leaned in and said "great hair" before we took ours. So that was like whew. Okay! This is fine. This is fine.

I personally think this is why I have a slightly crazed expression in the original uncovered photo.

But when I came back later for the signing, the whole thing was nearly ruined by the badly-managed queues in the autograph hall. I'm not a regular con-goer, but it felt like the Excel just didn't have enough space for an event as big as Celebration this time around.

My dumb-ass accidentally queued with the VIPs and when I realised I was in the wrong line, a bunch of us got moved to an overflow queue on the other side of Denise's booth. We were there for ages and for a moment we were like "have they forgotten about us over here??"

But it was so worth it in the end. She recognised me from the photo-op earlier and was like "it's the lovely hair!" at which point I died again. She signed my Andor print with the "get on with it" quote and explained about how she came up with that line. Meanwhile I'm thinking "Yes, I know. I've read and watched every Andor interview you've ever done ilysm 😭😭"

Initially, I wasn't going to give her one of my stickers. I was worried she wouldn't get it (apart from @sarcasmismydefaultmode and a nice lady I met in line for the Villains panel, the few other people I tried to give my SWAG to seemed a bit...confused.) But others ahead of me in line were giving her stuff, so when she'd finished signing my poster I just went for it and said "can I give you a sticker?"

And she was like "of course, I love presents!" I gave her the Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss one and I think she found it funny. I think she said something about seeing a video online of Dedra's girlboss moments.

Then she was like "do you want a pin?"

and I was like "yes please??" 😳😳😳 while mentally freaking out the whole time.

And then she gets out the Andor pin set which I'd already bought, but shh I'm not gonna say no to a pin from Denise Gough, am I??? and gives me the Dedra pin. There was a kid watching us, whose Dad was next in line. She said she would give the kid one too, but joked that he probably didn't want one of Dedra.

I took my pin and my poster and said "thank you so much, bye!" in the highest voice ever.

Then she blew me a kiss as I walked away and I died for the fourth time. 💀

I've had some mixed feelings about Celebration this year, but this was the highest of high points. I wish I could've said a little more to her, but I was super nervous (plus feeling very hungry, tired and hot by that point in the day) but I'm really grateful for the brief interaction we had!

[annisthree]

Andor Wednesday #6, ”The Sun on Both Sides” by guardianangelcas

I feel like I need to stress this from the very beginning: this story is very much 18+. But it’s delicious and adorable and you need it in your life, trust me. If you’re over 18 and are into smut, that is.

Title: The Sun on Both Sides

Author: guardianangelcas on AO3, @no-droids on tumblr (they seem to no longer be active on tumblr, though)

Pairing: Cassian Andor x fem!reader

Words: 11202

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22297735

Tumblr link: https://no-droids.tumblr.com/post/190317810440/the-sun-on-both-sides

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: SMUT, sex pollen (therefore DUB-CON by default), recreational drug use, dirty talk, oral sex (both male and female receiving), penetrative sex

Description: I’m not sure I have anything smart to say, but this is one of those stories that are perfect for reading after a tough day at work. At least for me.

I love this author’s writing style, I love the small interjections of humour, but most of all - the tension! The build-up! And it’s extremely sweet and tender, too; it genuinely makes my heart warm.

I’m just gonna quote one of the comments from AO3: “screw space weed, I’m gonna roll this fic up and smoke it”. Sums it up perfectly.

I hope you enjoy the reading! Thank you for all of your recommendations - feel free to send more, either via comments or in my ask box. Don’t be shy to self-promote!

And if you end up reading this story, let me know what you think (+ remember to leave the author some love!)

[lilydvoratrelundar]

10 comfort films

Ty for tagging me @mothdogs !!

1. Matilda the musical (2022) I have watched this film so many times and it's not even been out for a year. I love it so much. It's one of the only dvds I got new from hmv as soon as it came out. I could quote the whole thing on command. I cry whenever I watch it. I feel like I've lived with this film for my whole life when in fact I only saw it on a whim with my parents, towards the end of its theatrical run, cos of fond memories of the show.

2. The Suicide Squad (2021) it's the best superhero film. I love it so much.

3. Time Bandits (1981) pure whimsy. I could also probably write a decent essay on the theology of this film but that's another conversation

4. War for the Planet of the Apes (2017) I could probably put any of the apes films here (except the 2001 one) but this one is just. So beautiful and so good and I love it so much

5. The Blues Brothers (1980) I hate illinois nazis

6. Doctor who city of death. Shut up it's on letterboxd it counts as a film. I have other favourites of the show but this is the one I put on to lift my mood

7. Blade Runner 2049 (2017) I only discovered this one like a week ago but will 100% be rewatching many times

8. Star Wars (1977) is it a hot take to say, andor aside, the franchise has never been as good as that first film? I treasure my unspecialised edition dvd BTW I haven't watched the cgi monstrosities in about a decade

9. Bit (2019) it's gay vampires what more do u want

10. Baby driver (2017) banging soundtrack fantastic direction great story

Oh god i'll tag uhhh

@merrygejelh @regicidal-defenestration @charliedooku @rainethorn @justanotherbookortwo @wouldbeheroine @starfrog1 @emailsquid & anyone else who sees this consider urself tagged

[rebeljyn]

Request Info Page:

REQUESTS OPEN

Current Requests List:

↳ ↳ ↳

Rules:

➜ Please be polite! You can ask to make sure I’m willing to gif something(a ship that isn’t on my list for example) if you’re in doubt but please respect it if I say no!

➜ Only send one request per ask!

➜ I will ignore/delete requests sent in while requests are closed!

➜ It might take some time for your request to be made so be aware of that, sending in asks or messages rushing/complaining might end up get your request deleted as well.

➜ When you make a request on anon please try to check sometimes if I’ve posted anything on here asking for clarification on your request! If you’ve requested off anon I’ll message you or tag you on a post with what I need clarification on!

➜ I most probably won’t gif any romantic ships that aren’t in my list of allowed ships, but you can ask me if you're in doubt. Non-romantic relationships I’m ok with but be aware that the gifsets will be based on my own opinion of them.

Some examples of gifsets/edits you can ask for:

↳Character/ship + color

↳Character/ship + lyrics

↳Character/ship + quotes

↳Character/ship + specific movie or episode

↳Specific scene from a show/movie

↳Color palette gifset

↳Simple headers and icons(must put credit in description if you use them)

Romantic ships I’m willing to gif:

↳Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso

↳Baze Malbus/Chirrut Îmwe

↳Han Solo/Leia Organa

↳Vel Sartha/Cinta Kaz

↳ Finn/Poe Dameron

Things I will not gif:

Please be aware that even if you request something that’s not on here I might still refuse your request because it was something I just forgot to add.

Star Wars:

    General:

↳Anything from the Star Wars cartoons/animations like Clone Wars, Rebels, Bad Batch, etc.

    Characters:

↳Cara Dune

↳Migs Mayfeld

    Ships:

↳Any romantic Padawan/Master ships

Marvel:

    Characters:

↳Peter Quill | Star Lord

↳Clint Barton | Hawkeye

↳Quentin Beck | Mysterio

[thewriterowl]

Now for the hard question: in your top 10 movie franchises list add in ALL of the Star Wars and Lord of the Rings movies in order of favorites.

Oh you have to ask the hard questions! Ok, let me see...in order for Star Wars:

Empire Strikes Back -- it is just such a good movie with some iconic Luke looks and Daddy-Son moments. It's so good and him with grandpa-Yoda is so cute. I also love how we see this lead up into Luke's change of perspective with everything.

Return of the Jedi -- Also great Luke and Daddy-Son moments. I think it barely inches over New Hope simply because I got to see it again on the 40th re-release in theaters and I was feral over how Luke looked. Also, loved the fighting scenes and we get Lando. I also happen to love the Ewoks.

New Hope -- May actually be in second place once RoJ-theater release gives me peace (need another few months). But this Luke is just so pure and whiny and I want to put him in my pocket forever and ever and ever. (let me throw this Luke at Din omg)

Revenge of the Sith -- UGH just UGH so god. Anakin is so hot in this and so messed up and this lead up is just fantastic and wonderful and absolutely tragic.

Rogue One -- I mean, how could I not adore this? It is absolutely AMAZING. Just heartbreaking with amazing graphics, awesome characters, and is only getting better thanks to the Andor series.

The Force Awakens -- Honestly, I adored this movie so much. It wasn't perfect, it needed more Luke and the original trio, but it had so much potential. I just thought it was leading up to something amazing and the memes Mark gave us after left me excited and laughing for a long time.

The Phantom Menace -- Part of this is spite-love for young Anakin and Jar Jar Binks; both deserve better. But honestly, I have rewatched this a few times recently and was all "this is actually great? why the hate?"

Attack of the Clones -- Honestly, I need to rewatch this again. It's just here cause I haven't rewatched it in a while and i don't know why. We get Jango! We get the Clones! Baby Boba! The SAND-QUOTE! Obi-Wan's mullet! The lead up to the Clone War series! Badass Yoda! Yeah, gotta do a re-watch.

Solo -- Again, i actually really enjoyed the movie. It wasn't the best but it wasn't bad. Honestly, there were just some weird choices for some story movements and character interactions but other than that? It was good. I need to rewatch it honestly.

The Last Jedi -- I hate, hate, hate what they did to my Luke. If they were going to go this route with him I'd understand 100% because it would make sense for him to to have so much PTSD and just be burnt out and so hurt (still, i think we have enough of this and deserve older heroes that are still full of hope and silly and are kind). But the execution and how he is made to be a loser is just wrong. There were also some other scenes and interactions that were "uh...no?" but the fight scenes were great, Po was great, I loved Rose, I loved Finn's story and realization. It was just really wonky, disjointed from what we were getting before, and I will keep my head-cannon Luke in my claws.

The Rise of Skywalker -- I...didn't like it. I saw it twice and actually checked the time till I could go home often (only have done that with like two other movies). It was so awkward, the dialogue was poor, the actors seemed done, there was so many random new stories thrown in at last second, characters were thrown away, "Palpatine somehow returned?" like...what??? It was just lame. Such a lame, lame ending. The OT-trio and the new trio deserved so much better. It needs a re-do.

Now for the Lord of the Rings!:

The Fellowship of the Ring -- Even though it wasn't the most action packed, what it sparked, how good it was...just AUGH perfection. I adore this movie so much.

The Two Towers -- Incredible, amazing, also perfect. Great action, all the characters are given their due-time (with Legolas making faces). I love it.

Return of the King -- AMAZING ENDING. The wraps up is just...the moments of suffering and the release. The HAPPINESS. How ever gets what they deserve (tho RIP Boromir) just adore it so much.

The Desolation of Smaug -- PERFECT. Except for maybe some off CGI, this movie was amazing. So much Bagginshield, the intense cliffhanger, the Arkenstone....it was so good. I adored this movie so much!

An Unexpected Journey -- I adore Bilbo. I love him so much. And how this opened up Bagginshield just how could I not adore it??

Battle of the Five Armies -- I didn't like it the first time I watched it. But a few more times I was "huh, actually, it's not bad!" It honestly should've been loads better. There were so many wonky decisions and everything that happened did not feel like it met up with the end of a trilogy. But the end....how everyone survived! Can you believe that there was absolutely NO HEARTBREAK WHAT'SO'EVER??

[notasapleasure]

Only ever just one night

Andor (TV series), Cassian Andor/Brasso, M, post-season 1, hurt/comfort, FWB with a smidge of regretful angst. 5-6,000 words.

Sometime after season 1. No, I can't remember if they say where they're escaping to at the end of Rix Road, so I just landed everyone in a refugee camp on an unnamed planet.

Cassian's just left a bad job behind, and he needs the kind of rocksure familiarity and comfort that Luthen just doesn't deal in. He knows his handler will track him down, but for just one night he has to snatch hold of the most reliable love left to him.

Author's note: the hug that launched a thousand ships, take two! I kept seeing people talk about how Cass and Brasso have definitely hooked up at some point, and I agree wholeheartedly. I understand there is An Audience for E fic rather than M fic. If the brain worms persist then I'm sure that can be arranged.

"I love him more than anything he could ever do wrong"

- Brasso, quoting Maarva Andor.

Midnight is getting nearer

I see you clearer

Now that you’re gone

The smoke towers rise all in a row

Shifting in the afterglow

I see the light I hear the sound

But I’m always on the wrong side of town

(John Boden - Wrong Side of Town)

---

There isn't really a knock at the make-shift door. More a scuffing of barked knuckles against durasteel, a quiet sigh that seems weighty enough to push the metal sheet aside. Two stumbling, shuffling steps in the dirt -

Brasso's on his feet beside his cot. He's unarmed, but most of the opportunistic thieves the refugee camp harbours don't need more than a quick look at him - and his empty shack - to know it isn't worth it. Still, he's tired, it's kriffing late, and his boiler suit hangs around his waist, half-undone in readiness for sleep, leaving his chest and arms chilled in nothing but a vest.

He holds his breath, a weary retort on his tongue ready for launch - and then he sees half of a shadow appear in the gap between durasteel panels. It's only a shoulder, a bowed head, one leg shaking with effort, one hand clutching the metal for support, but Brasso knows that half-shadow like he knows how to find the flaws in salvaged Beskar. He'd know any fraction of that shadow, and he doesn't hesitate to rush forwards now, his arms opening to catch his guest.

Cassian is shivering and doesn't even look up as he tumbles into Brasso's hold. He buries his face against vest and skin and Brasso feels the cool, damp air of night on Cassian's face and hair and clothes.

"Cass..." the syllable is squeezed from Brasso's lungs by the grip around his body. Cassian may be the worse for wear, but his strength hasn't ebbed. Brasso never could work out where he stored it all in that wirey little frame, but once again, just as it always was, he feels like he's caught in a vice when he's in Cassian's arms - his heart aches and breathing has become difficult.

"I shouldn't be here," Cassian says softly. His head is still pressed to Brasso's chest and his words tickle in the hairs of Brasso's body.

"No..." Brasso agrees. "You should have been on that transport with us. Where did you go?"

Cassian's hands are locked together behind Brasso's shoulders, desperate, honest in a way the rest of him so rarely is. He shifts at last, raising his chin above Brasso's shoulder and leaning his head into Brasso's as he sighs again. "I..." his throat moves against Brasso's collarbone. "I had a debt to pay. I can't stay long. I have to go back."

There's gravel in his voice, it's sandblasted and wind-beaten. The soft Kenari accent - Brasso's known for years it wasn't Festian, and Cass has probably forgotten the time he told him that story - is more pronounced, the way it is when he's tired or hurt or afraid. Brasso tightens his own hold and massages the neck of Cassian's jacket with his big hand. He leans back against Cassian's head, breathes in the familiar and the unfamiliar - there's a smell about a person's hair that's just them, no matter what ointments or perfumes they use after the sonic shower, no matter the remnants of the forge or the scrapyard caught in it. But mingled with that scent, the scent of Brasso's dear friend, there's something sinister. It reminds him of ozone and blood, of the strange sterile odour of fresh-laundered Imperial uniforms.

"You should stay," Brasso says automatically, emphatically, though he understands that Cassian won't. Can't. If he was here to stay, Brasso would have known it already.

Cassian lets out a dry laugh and his body judders in Brasso's arms, so Brasso has an illusory moment of victory, where it feels like he's able to squeeze Cass even closer. "I've brought you guys enough trouble," Cassian murmurs. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come."

"Cass..." Brasso repeats his name with all the gentleness he knows and tries to pry their bodies apart, to get a good look at his friend in the dim glow of the camp light.

It's like trying to get into a clamfruit with his bare hands - Cassian just clings to him for dear life. Whatever he says about the fact he shouldn't have come, he doesn't seem to be in a hurry to leave.

The ache in Brasso's heart is starting to feel like something piercing now, starting to spread through him and mutate into something as near to panic as he's ever felt. What's he worried about? Where Cass has been? Why he's back? What Brasso's going to feel all over again while he's here? He's trapped in Cassian's arms and he can't do anything except hold onto him just as tightly in return.

"Cass, Bix is just next door. Bee is with her. You should see how well she's doing. They're both doing. Wilmon's been helping, he's found a way to juice Bee's charger -" he's babbling and he knows it. Too long like this and he always starts to feel out of his depth, ready to do any rash thing he needs to do to keep Cass with him, to keep him close and talking and to get him to smile up at Brasso with that guarded, mischievous twinkle in his eyes. This is all too much, when - before tonight - Brasso had so little hope of ever seeing him again. But this is how it always is with Cass - he materialises from the dark night when he needs Brasso, and disappears again before he can admit to it.

"Come on Cass, Bix'll want to see you. She'll want to thank you," he tries to extricate himself from the hug once more, and this time Cassian allows him a measure of success.

Cassian steps back a little and looks up at Brasso: ever the thin-lipped, wary-eyed boy, his face gaunt with shadows. He blinks and the shutters he wears over his feelings seem to fall open for a breath - Brasso sees the longing, the thirst for company and for friendship, for love and connection. He also sees the red in his eyes and the blood at his hairline; the bruised cheekbone and the high collar that doesn't quite hide further damage.

"I can't," Cassian murmurs. He holds Brasso's gaze, and all the words they've never needed to say out loud underscore his point. "I don't want to...remind her. Especially if she's doing well."

"Remind her?" Brasso feels the words between his teeth, wavering with horror and protectiveness. One hand is still on Cassian's arm and it grips Cass with contrary force - though Brasso swears his brain is trying to send it signals to let go.

Cassian's lips all but disappear in his grimace.

"What have they done to you? Who did this?" Brasso jogs him a little by that one arm. He doesn't know what he'd do with an honest answer, but he knows he's got to ask nonetheless.

Cassian shakes his head - that funny, rolling movement of his neck where it's like he's nodding and saying no all at once. "Can't..." he begins.

Brasso dips his chin and raises his brows. "Can't tell me? Ok. What can I do?"

Cassian's mouth moves again, a puckered argument between emotions tying up his words. "I know he's going to find me here. It won't take him long," he says hoarsely.

"No Cass, we'll hide you, we'll -"

What else is Brasso meant to say? He's no idea what this is about - the same trouble as before? It's more trouble than a few Ferrixian refugees can do anything about. But he's got to offer anyway.

"No. He'll come and I'll go with him. He won't touch the rest of you. But I just...before I go back, I just wanted to remember what it was like," his voice has gone even quieter.

Brasso frowns kindly at him. His thumb moves reassuringly over Cass's shoulder, his fingers grip his arm and offer strength. "What's that, then?"

Cassian snorts again, no humour in it. But there's that glint in his dark eyes that Brasso's been dreaming about, and his vibroblade-sharp mouth quirks up at the corner. "You remember the nights Maarva and I would row."

The pain in Brasso's heart has become a burning furnace, a roaring white heat inside him. He stares down into Cass's rich brown eyes and gives a brave nod. "I remember. Remember the night Bix kicked you out. And the other one, what's her name -"

"Yeah," Cassian licks his lips nervously and finally breaks Brasso's gaze. "Yeah, that too."

"I'm here, Cass. What do you need?"

Brasso hears his own voice too loud in his ears, too gruff, too ruffled by emotion. His cheeks feel hot, so does the skin above the neckline of his vest.

"Just one night," Cassian says hollowly. He blinks up at Brasso, his eyes unexpectedly glassy.

Brasso merely nods - it's only ever just one night. The first time it happened he believed those words and afterwards, ablaze with memories of that one night, he had come to regret agreeing to it - he'd burned through the long sleepless hours between the first time and the second, convinced that he'd just learned what it was he truly wanted only to be denied any repeat of it. Then there had been a second 'just one night'. A third. Brasso had begun to understand that just one night actually meant something else when Cassian said it. It meant I trust you. I need you too much to ruin it by staying longer. I'll be back. I'll always need to come back.

Brasso brings him close again and Cassian sighs in his hold. They lean their cheeks together and Brasso closes his eyes and tries to concentrate on what he remembers of Cassian from before the job that changed it all: his tense, slim body and his silken hair, the urgency with which he cleaves to Brasso. Not the lingering damage that's been done to him, not the sense that there's some kind of...ownership there never used to be, tugging like a leash round Cass's neck the whole time.

Gently, slowly, Brasso leads him to the bedside and by the glow of the lamp he peels Cass's greatcoat back from his shoulders.

Cass winces but shrugs the heavy, dark cloth back. Here, Brasso can see the waxy darkness beneath his eyes, the subcutaneous blood in the bruises on his hands.

Cass doesn't want to remind Bix of what she went through. Torture. Brasso names it in his mind. That's what she went through and that's what's been done to Cass, too.

Brasso is hot as a forge with anger - if he had the people who did this within reach he's confident he could break them apart with his own two hands.

Cass knows it too and doesn't meet Brasso's eyes as he tugs at the fastenings of his tunic. He flinches and takes a sudden gasp of air when Brasso's patience gives in and he reaches for Cass, taking his biceps in his big hands, bending intently to look in his eyes before he kisses him.

There's no hesitation or surprise in Cass's response - this is what he came for. He's silent, but he leans back into the kiss, all sharpness gone from his lips, tension fading selectively from his muscles.

His fists press against Brasso's chest and then his fingers twine round the straps of his vest. The fabric just stretches when Cass tries to pull Brasso near by it, so Cass has to step into him again, craning up into the kiss, his mouth open, his urgent breath the only sound he makes.

Brasso's not as good at being quiet - never has been, not under these circumstances. He draws Cass into his arms and murmurs sounds of appreciation at the feel of their bodies warming up together. He's firm but gentle with his hands, conscious of the bruising he saw hints of, needing, even so, to let Cass know how much he's loved and wanted.

And he is so very loved.

Brasso's known there's no other word for it since the beginning, really. There's never been anyone else like Cass in his life - anyone he could communicate wordlessly with, anyone he could repeatedly offer everything to, and know that they'd never abuse that offer. He knows Cass has no one else like him either, no one else who can do this and ask no more of him.

They don't speak now - there's nothing to say. When the rest of Cass's injuries are laid bare, Brasso runs delicate fingertips over the bruises, his expression heartbroken. Cass just lifts his hand away, kisses the palm, and replaces Brasso's touch elsewhere on his body. They carry on as before, and Brasso tries, once more, to think of what hasn't changed instead of what has.

Cass still kisses like it's his last night in the universe - fierce and hungry, his beard catching in Brasso's stubble, his moustache tickling his nose. He's still scrawny and still strong - a stitch cracks in protest when he tugs on Brasso's vest again and Brasso lets out a grunt of surprise at the force with which Cass's hand on his arse pulls him close. His fingers are clever, rubbing circles in the hollows of Brasso's spine, in the thick hair at the nape of his neck.

Cass steps back and squirms his arms free of his dark tunic. He holds Brasso's gaze, daring him to look away, to go searching his body for the damage that's been done to it.

Brasso just clenches his jaw, presses his lips together, and waits. Lets Cassian unbutton his own trousers, kick off his own boots, finish this striptease as quickly as he can. Cass's legs shake a little again when he has to put his whole weight on one and then the other.

Cass knows Brasso can see this weakness; he knows Brasso would sweep him off his feet if Cass's pride allowed it.

Brasso's too familiar with this routine to try it - Cass's guard comes down when Cass allows it to, and no sooner. They'll get to that point. Brasso presses his lips together and runs his tongue over them in anticipation of it. For now, he allows himself the softest touch on Cassian's arm, runs his fingers and palm against the grain of dark hairs, up past his elbow. Brasso encourages Cass to come back to him and Cass does, his expression still a mask, still a warning against any attempts to breach his defenses.

Brasso knows that'll change. That's another memory he can bring up: Cass at peace, happy in his arms. Brasso kisses him again, tasting blood and the staleness of deprivation - hunger, thirst, asphyxiation. He's going to kiss him until those flavours are banished, he's going to kiss him until Cassian forgets how they - no point asking who they are, when it comes down to it there's only ever one answer to that - starved him and isolated him and...and whatever else they did. Brasso cups his chin in his hands and feels Cass's body lean into the kiss, into Brasso's hold, drawn in like a wreck in a tractor beam.

Cass's fingers work beneath the hem of Brasso's vest, into the warm waistline of his boiler suit. He pulls the cloth up and Brasso feels that momentary tremor of doubt at the exposure - can Cass really want this? Want him?

It might not be clear from his expression yet; his eyes are low, watching his hands work away at the last fastenings of Brasso's clothes. His mouth is pinched again, but his breathing has picked up speed. Brasso can see that skinny, bruised chest rise and fall in the dim light, can see the hue of Cass's cheeks and tight lips - even if he couldn't see the more obvious sign of Cass's arousal he'd still know.

Only when they're both naked does Cass really come close, really let Brasso hold him like they've both been longing for. Brasso's touch sweeps down Cass's back and then he grips him under the arse and lifts him into his arms. Cass comes eagerly, his tired legs wrapping round Brasso's hips. He squeezes Brasso's body until his exhausted muscles shake with the effort, but Brasso's got him, his slight form is weightless in Brasso's arms.

Cass leans down to kiss him, their heights reversed, Cass's fingers making a mess of Brasso's short, sensible haircut. Brasso can barely taste the blood in his mouth anymore and he makes another tender sound as he lays Cass down on his tiny bed.

The thaw is starting in earnest now - Cass knots his hands in Brasso's hair, leans up into their kisses, pulls at Brasso's lower lip with his teeth and breathes with a ragged sound deep in his throat.

Brasso's worried about his battered body and holds himself above Cass, propped up on his thick arms, his hips slotted neatly between Cass's, though he doesn't let himself push down on the body beneath him.

Eventually, Cass is forced to let out a hoarse whisper: "Closer. Come closer, Brasso..."

The sound of his name on Cass's lips is almost enough to make him obey, but Brasso squeezes his eyes shut and nuzzles Cass's nose between kisses. "I don't want to hurt you, Cass..."

"You won't hurt me." There's no hesitation. Brasso can hear the need in Cass's voice now and he opens his eyes to drink in the expression Cass is wearing. His whole face seems to soften when he's here in Brasso's bed - there's new colour in his warm brown eyes, his cheeks look fuller, there's even the rumour of a dimple by the corner of his mouth. "You won't hurt me," he repeats, smiling.

Ok then - Brasso nods, he knows he looks dazed, like someone's dropped a kriffing anvil on his head. It's always a surprise to him that Cass wants to be here, it's always a wonder.

Cass lies back and pulls Brasso down on top of him and even moans a little when Brasso kisses him and nestles down against Cass's hips. Then that's that - no more dithering for Brasso. He has the lube in a chest beneath the bed and he fishes for it one-handed as he rocks against Cass and Cass arches up into him.

He's as gentle as he can be to begin with and Cass is a whole other person in his arms - all sharp edges gone, all barriers lowered, all disguises dropped. His hands seem to be everywhere at once, covering the territory of Brasso's broad back, squeezing the flesh of his thighs and his flanks, urging him faster, harder, closer.

Gentleness comes naturally but so does the frenzy Cass drives him to - Brasso responds to the open palm that strikes his arse, to Cass's short nails scoring down his shoulder-blades, Cass's teeth on his lip, his earlobe, his jaw. Brasso's sweating like he's been welding parts all day, his blood is pumping faster than its done since the funeral, he can't taste any of the recent hurt on Cassian's mouth anymore - it's just him, stripped of pretence and others' expectations.

He tries to slip a hand between their bodies, to make sure Cass is really getting all the pleasure he deserves from this, but Cass pushes him arm aside. "I don't need it, just you. Just...keep going. Harder." His voice is rough as his beard against Brasso's ear, but he leans his cheek against Brasso's with tenderness even as their bodies move recklessly together.

Brasso used to wonder what Cass was punishing himself for when he asked him to go harder, used to worry that Cass fantasised about Brasso without the gentleness he'd cultivated and nurtured and wore with such dignity and pride. But somewhere along the way he'd realised it wasn't like that at all - it was about Cass's trust in him, about Cass needing Brasso to insist he deserved this love, about Cass feeling it, feeling good, because Brasso could scale his defenses and keep him in a place where he let himself feel it. And it's hard to deny that, for all his prided gentleness, it feels good to know he can push himself with Cassian, to enjoy his body's strength and power in a place that isn't the scrapyard. It makes him ecstatic - the only feeling that's come close was when he'd heeded Maarva's command and kicked that Imp in the chest, smacked that other one in the chops with Maarva's funerary brick. That had felt good. Satisfying. But it wasn't as satisfying as this - Brasso prefers to use his body's power to bring Cassian pleasure rather than to bring pain, even where it's justified.

Cass is silent as ever when he comes, his face in Brasso's neck, his hands clasped behind Brasso's back. He just shudders, his legs tangled round Brasso's body, soft but clinging determinedly to him.

Brasso tries - he always tries - to be as quiet as Cass, but a grunt of effort so easily becomes a whine of release, and he presses his mouth to Cassian's skin to try to stifle the sound. Cass is holding the back of his head and arching into him with a gasp and Brasso feels his own body tremble, feels himself turn to liquid in the heat of the forge, ready to be remade, ready to remake.

They kiss, they're in no hurry to move apart. Brasso rocks his hips gently against Cass and Cass strokes over the scratches on his back and the stinging red skin on his arse. They don't need words for this part either - they'll clean up when they're ready, and then they'll make this narrow cot as comfortable as they can.

This is how it started, Brasso recalls as Cass tucks the thin blanket around them and reaches out to switch the camp light off. He'd needed a place to go when he'd made a fuss at home - he hadn't been letting himself mourn Clem and Force knows, Maarva hadn't been coping well either. He'd needed tenderness, not judgement, kindness without a lecture. He'd needed to sleep without the aid of nog or anything else, and Brasso's big arms were where he found what he needed. It had only been in the morning, when he'd turned to face Brasso beneath the covers and they'd both been blindsided by desire, that this ritual of just one night had really begun.

Now Brasso feels the cold durasteel wall at his back, but Cass's body is warm and vital in his arms, fitting snugly with his shoulder blades to Brasso's chest. Brasso snuggles his face into Cass's soft hair and into the crook of his shoulder, breathes him in, and Cass holds Brasso's arms closed tight around his body.

By the time Brasso murmurs, "Sleep well, Cass," he realises Cass has already dropped off. His breathing is soft and his head is a dead weight on Brasso's bicep, but for now there's no sign of the trauma he must have fled to come here. He's at peace, and that means Brasso can relax too.

The camp is never really quiet, but you get used to the nighttime sounds fairly quickly - none of them interfere with Brasso's sleep anymore. So he's not really clear on what wakes him to the purple darkness of the shack, long before morning comes.

Cass is still there in his arms, still sleeping heavily. So heavily that Brasso's fingers have gone dead and the nerve endings in his arm are tingling in protest. Oh well. It's worth it, Brasso thinks, gazing blearily at the spot where the shadows suggest Cass's cheek is. He plants a gentle kiss there and only then notices that the durasteel sheet he uses as a door was never put back properly. It's not open much, but there's enough of a gap that he can see the cold glow from the distant airbase's flood lights.

His pulse spikes so suddenly and so violently that he's sure Cass will feel his heart like a hammer in his back, but Cass is asleep and doesn't notice the figure at the doorway. Brasso's arm is trapped and he has no weapons anyway - what does this pervert want?

Brasso can't see much - the man (he thinks) is a silhouette, with a scarf drawn up over the lower half of his face. He turns a little to glance down the street and when he does Brasso can see his eyes, and they make him shudder. A spy's eyes. Hooded and expressionless, coldly assessing. Like Cass's were before he came to Brasso's bed.

He swallows bravely and waits to make sure the man knows he's awake, knows he's seen him. Then he says, as quietly as he can, "He's coming back to you tomorrow. He told me he was going back."

The silhouette is still and silent, and Brasso can't see his response. Cass sleeps on, oblivious in a deep rest he rarely allows himself.

Finally: "I know," says the silhouette. "Tell him to come to landing pad 4R-1."

He leaves, and pulls the durasteel across as he goes.

Brasso can hear his blood rush and he begins to doubt himself - what if this man is the one who tortured Cassian? Whose game has Brasso just agreed to play? Scenarios he can't possibly predict run through his mind with futile urgency until he drops off into a shallow, uneasy sleep, and by the time he wakes again it's light and he still has no idea what to say about the figure at the door. It can't have been a dream because the durasteel has definitely been closed with more care than Cass had been capable of last night.

Cass is sitting on the bed, tousled and sleepy-looking. The blanket is drawn round his slight shoulders and he's holding a mug of kaf - in the one mug Brasso owns.

"Are you checking the locks?" Cass asks, amusement making his voice warm, that Kenari lisp now smooth and sweet, polished clean of exhaustion.

Brasso turns from the door and folds his arms. He's wearing his underclothes in a concession to the cold bite in the morning air, and he contemplates saying nothing about the man who was there in the night. Cass seems so carefree right now - his smile is mischievous and his eyes glitter with wit. Maybe Brasso should just let him sort his own affairs out - he comes to Brasso to get away from them, doesn't he? Not because he wants a messenger?

Brasso doesn't give himself a chance to take this thought seriously though - honesty is as crucial to their friendship as anything else Cass comes here for.

"There was someone here last night. I was awake and I saw them."

Cassian's expression clouds over immediately. "What do you mean?" he tries to keep his voice light, but Brasso can already see him rebuilding the walls, bricking himself back into the suspicious, uneasy persona that keeps him safe. "A thief?"

Brasso shakes his head. "One of yours, I think." Whatever 'yours' means.

Cassian's brows rise. His expression briefly echoes Brasso's unspoken aside, but then he tucks his chin inwards indignantly. "Excuse me?"

Brasso sighs. "You said he'd find you. I'm guessing that's what happened. But that's all it is, Cass - a guess. If you don't tell me -"

Cassian tilts his head and gives Brasso a look that says: really? But he doesn't stand or rush to get dressed and leave. He clutches the mug of kaf and frowns.

"What did you see? What did he say?"

Brasso describes what little he saw and what little the silhouette in the doorway said. He describes his voice and his accent, and Cass is already nodding at his kaf.

"That's him, yeah. He can wait a while this morning."

The response surprises Brasso, who finally returns to the bed and sits down next to Cass. Carefully, he reaches over and plucks the mug from Cass's fingers and turns it so he can hold the handle, each gesture gentle and measured. "Want to tell me who he is? What all this is about?" He takes a sip of kaf, trying to act casual about it all.

Cass sighs and leans into Brasso's arm, though he doesn't look at him. "No... it's better if you don't know. I work for him, that's all. He wants a report on the last job."

Brasso glances at him, takes in the indiscriminate bruising on his body. "Hm. The job that you got those from." There's no point making it a question.

Cass snorts and gives a rolling shake of his head. "Of course. It's ok, I did what he needed me to do. The debrief isn't time sensitive. That's why..." he chuckles again at his own expense and looks at his marked hands. "That's why I came. Sorry, Brasso. I know it's not fair."

This really sends a chill down Brasso's spine - he's not used to quite this level of honesty from Cass, definitely not on the morning after. He hesitates, studying the greasy black surface of the kaf, and then he hands it back to Cass and wraps an arm around his skinny shoulders. "Fair? Fark that, Cass. I'm just glad to know you're still alive," Brasso sighs - there was more truth in that than he'd intended, too. "And...and I just want to remind you that if you need help, any sort of help, us Ferrixians won't hesitate, we won't -"

Cass snorts mid-gulp of kaf. "You can't help me, Brasso. And I don't want you to. I want you and Bee and Bix and Wilmon to stay far away from the guy you saw last night. It's not safe to know him."

Brasso notices the phrasing - not to know who he is. Just to know him.

Brasso works his jaw. He knows all about Cass's secrets - they're necessary because they keep his friends safe. But this knowledge is built on an unspoken acknowledgement that Brasso's here to keep Cass safe. Safe from himself, more often than not.

"Cass - you know..." Brasso sighs again. It's meant to be an unspoken knowledge. But something about this time, something about the man in the doorway...it really feels like this might be the last time. Best to be clear about these things, then. "You know I'd do anything for you, Cass?" there's a plaintive note in his voice that he tries to hold back, but there it hangs, needy and desperate as the way Cass holds onto him in bed.

Cassian puts the mug of kaf down next to the lamp. He turns a little and doesn't try to shrug off Brasso's arm, but he grips one broad knee and squeezes it meaningfully. He's not fully retreated into the defensive, closed persona he wears outside Brasso's quarters and there's a care in his eyes that makes Brasso's chest tighten. "I know. I know you would," Cass shakes his head, lifts a hand and cups Brasso's cheek in his palm. "That's why you've got to forget about it, Brasso. He"d take that and he'd use it. It's what he does. All your good intentions, all your kindness - they're his tools."

Brasso covers Cass's hand with his large palm. "What about your good intentions? Your kindness?"

Cass shivers, Brasso can feel him consider pulling away. But he stays, and laughs mirthlessly again, and bows his forehead to Brasso's. "Irrelevant. Long gone. It's all about the bigger picture, Brasso."

Brasso runs his thumb over Cass's hand and the arm over Cass's back tightens to draw him near. "Not long gone. Not irrelevant. Not to me. You wouldn't have come here if that was true, would you?"

Cass's body trembles again and he pinches his lips. He's starting to look haggard and troubled, like last night's spell is wearing off. "I just...I just needed to know if I could still..."

"I know," Brasso murmurs. "I understand, Cass." It's all he's allowed to offer, and he offers it in abundance, arms wide with generosity.

Cass presses their foreheads together and shifts his hand beneath Brasso's, grasping the back of his head and pulling him into a kiss - unexpected, forceful, an assault on Brasso's raw emotions.

He breaks the kiss and stands, looking down at Brasso with the nearest thing to regret in his eyes. "Just one night, remember?"

Brasso nods. He doesn't trust himself to speak, but he watches in glum, thoughtful silence as Cass dresses.

He doesn't look as unsteady on his feet today, that's certain. He's well-rested. Hopefully he's remembered he's more than the husk he needs to be for the jobs he's stuck doing.

As for Brasso - he'll go back to the routine, he supposes. Drinking tea with the other Ferrixians and reminiscing about their old lives. Negotiating to find a way out of this refugee camp and into work that's useful. They've all heard that rebellion is brewing and they're itching to play a part in it - even Bix is fired up by the idea, fuelled by Maarva's message, by her legacy. The hope that the connection she once had on Ferrix - distant, intangible - is evolving into some sort of coherent fight back against the people who since took everything from her is like a rope she uses daily to pull herself back from the horror of what happened. And they all have skills, they all spent their lives working - stagnating here in the camp forever is simply unimaginable, unconscionable.

Brasso looks up suddenly. "Should I tell the others you were here?"

Cassian straightens his belt over his narrow hips and glances sharply at him.

Brasso shrugs and spreads his hands. "I can lie to them, but not about everything, Cass..."

Cassian considers this and then steps over to Brasso, leans down and kisses him again. He lingers, and it makes Brasso want to grab him and keep him there, pull him back down to the bed and hide him from the man he works for. Instead he just grips the edges of the thin mattress and lets out a mournful sound when Cass pulls away.

Cass looks down, breathing hard and acting like it's not showing. "Tell them what you need. I won't be back, Brasso. Keep them safe."

"What about Bee -" he's on his feet. He didn't mean to be, but Cassian's already on the way to the door.

Cassian looks mortified - just for a moment, and then he shuts it down. "I'm sorry, Brasso. I don't have time for goodbyes. You explained to Bee before - you'll have to do it again."

And then he's gone, slipping through the durasteel sheets like they're a curtain he just has to brush aside. Like he's a gas, ephemeral, a spirit conjured from Brasso's dreams.

He stands there for a moment, sore and stunned, and then he takes a deep breath. He's done this before. He can do it again. There's precious little certainty in this galaxy anymore, and Cassian can close all the doors he wants - but Brasso has to believe that Cassian will always continue to find him when he needs him.