#my baze and chirrut emotions

[sparklyslug]

That cute fanart reminded me of a Baze/Chirrut WIP I abandoned (checks watch) SEVEN YEARS AGO so I went back to reread and its 4K of some actually pretty good stuff if I say so myself

The world stops shaking and spinning around him, and Baze can’t breathe for moment. It’s a combination of a few things; surprise, confusion, perhaps a bit of admiration, and most of all, being slammed into the rocky ground with enough force that his lungs have forgotten what they’re normally supposed to be doing at times like these.

They remember, and he sucks in a deep breath. The blind man sitting on him rises slightly with the motion of his chest, but the pressure of the bo staff jammed under his chin and pinning his wrists to the earth doesn’t ease up a bit.

So all that accomplishes is getting Baze a mouthful of dust, which has been stirred up into small drifts by the scuffle, short as it was.

“--fuck?” Baze wheezes. He meant to put a ‘what the’ in front of that, but there’s only so much he can handle just at the moment.

“Now now, we’ve only just met,” the man says with a smile. Infuriatingly, his eyes are focused somewhere just to the left of Baze’s head. How is this possible? He’s not even visibly winded. “It usually takes at least four assassination attempts before I decide if I want to get that friendly.”

“But you’re blind,” Baze coughs, though he should really know better.

“I’m what?” the man on his chest says, eyes widening. He pantomimes looking to the left and right, and then squints down at Baze. “Well, what do you know. So I am.”

“Since you can’t see,” Baze clears his throat. “I’ll just tell you: I’m not laughing.”

The man’s still smiling, but his eyebrows shoot up in some surprise. “Do I know you?” He asks, more uncertain than he’s been throughout this (sadly) very short encounter.

“No,” Baze says, too quickly. He doesn’t know why it even matters, but he can feel his face heating up. Not, of course, that he needs to worry about being caught in a blush.

#my fic #ficbits #my rogue one emotions #my baze and chirrut emotions #there are LOTS #sparkly originals

[sokayisaidiot]

Siblinghood, Platonic Soulmates, or Romance

Analyzing the Relationship Between Ezra Bridger and Sabine Wren

In this post, I will continue from my previous one, having offered a simplified overview but delving into one of the most common criticizing talking points. Please remember that this analysis is from a writing perspective and my own experiences as I am an amateur writer. I welcome comments and reblogs with your thoughts.

For context:

1. Relationships in Star Wars 2. Explanation of These Three Types of Relationships 3. Female Characters in Relationships 4. Ideals and Themes in Star Wars Rebels 5. Ezra and Sabine's Relationship 6. Conclusion

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Relationships in Star Wars

Critics sometimes claim that certain types of relationships are overrepresented in Star Wars, but it's essential to remember that the franchise features a variety of relationship dynamics. Here are some well-known examples:

Siblinghood:

- Luke and Leia (twins) - Ahsoka Tano and Anakin Skywalker (no blood) - Garazeb Orrelios and Ezra Bridger (no blood) - The Son and Daughter (literal Force beings) - Sabine and Tristan Wren (blood relatives) - Maul, Savage Opress, and Feral (same planet)

Platonic Soulmates:

- Han and Chewbacca - R2-D2 and C-3PO - Boba Fett & Fennec Shand - Din Djarin & Bo Katan Kryze - Chirrut Imwe & Baze Malbus

Romantic:

- Han Solo & Princess Leia - Anakin Skywalker & Padme Amidala - Obi-Wan Kenobi & Satine Kryze - Kanan Jarrus & Hera Syndulla - Bail & Breha Organa

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Each relationship explained and how to write it

Siblinghood

Definition A sibling is a term used to describe a brother or sister, which means they share at least one biological or adoptive parent. Siblings are individuals who are part of the same family and are connected through their familial relationships.

Writing points

Individuality: Portray each sibling as a unique individual with distinct traits.

Birth Order: Consider birth order dynamics and how it affects their roles.

Conflict and Love: Explore both rivalry and support in their relationship.

Shared Memories: Use shared childhood memories to deepen their connection.

Complex Emotions: Show a range of emotions, from love to resentment.

Character Development: Use their relationship to drive character growth.

Realistic Dialogue: Make their interactions and dialogues authentic.

Backstory: Develop a backstory with shared and separate experiences.

Conflict Resolution: Show how they handle conflicts within the relationship.

Evolution: Depict how their relationship changes over time.

External Influences: Consider how outside factors impact their dynamic.

Platonic Soulmates

Definition The term "Platonic soulmates" combines two concepts: "Platonic" and "soulmates."

Platonic: In the context of relationships, "Platonic" refers to a non-romantic or non-sexual connection.

Soulmates: It's a belief that there is a special, deep, and sometimes predestined connection between two people that goes beyond ordinary friendship or partnership.

When you combine these concepts, "Platonic soulmates" refers to two individuals who share an exceptionally close, deep, and meaningful non-romantic or non-sexual bond. They may have a connection that feels almost destined, as if their souls are deeply intertwined, but it doesn't involve romantic or sexual attraction.

Writing points

Unique Bond: Highlight the exceptional and non-romantic connection they share.

Common Values: Emphasize shared values, interests, and life goals that deepen their bond.

Unconditional Support: Show their unwavering support, trust, and emotional safety.

Enduring Relationship: Illustrate how their bond withstands time and challenges.

Conflict Resolution: Explore how they handle disagreements with maturity and empathy.

Growth Inspiration: Demonstrate how they inspire personal growth in each other.

Non-Romantic Nature: Clarify that their connection is platonic, not romantic.

Emotional Depth: Dive into their deep emotional connection and comfort.

Shared Moments: Highlight significant life experiences they've shared.

Respectful Boundaries: Show how they respect each other's boundaries.

External Influences: Consider how external factors affect their connection.

Remember that platonic soulmate relationships are diverse and can manifest in various ways. They provide an opportunity to explore deep emotional connections and the profound impact such connections can have on individuals' lives.

Romantic

Definition In everyday conversation, "romantic" is often used to describe anything related to love, affection, or relationships. It can refer to someone who is inclined towards love and affection or to something that evokes feelings of love and beauty. The exact meaning of "romantic" can vary depending on the context in which it is used.

Romantic Love: Deep emotional affection, attraction, and passion between two individuals, forming the basis for relationships like dating, courtship, and marriage.

Romantic Relationship: A partnership based on romantic love, including dating, committed relationships, or marriage, characterized by emotional closeness and physical affection.

Romantic Gestures: Actions expressing love, affection, and admiration in romantic contexts, such as giving flowers, writing love letters, or planning surprise dates.

Romanticism: A cultural movement originating in the late 18th century, emphasizing emotions, individualism, and the sublime in literature, art, and philosophy, often celebrating nature, imagination, and powerful emotions.

Writing points

Chemistry and Attraction: Establish a strong attraction between the partners.

Character Development: Use the relationship to develop and evolve the characters.

Conflict and Tension: Introduce challenges to make the relationship engaging.

Communication: Show effective communication and miscommunication between partners.

Shared Moments: Highlight meaningful experiences they share.

Individual Lives: Balance their personal lives with the relationship.

Trust and Vulnerability: Explore trust and emotional openness.

Intimacy: Address physical and emotional intimacy.

External Influences: Include the impact of outside factors.

Conflict Resolution: Demonstrate how they handle conflicts.

Long-Term Compatibility: Consider their compatibility for the future.

Realistic Challenges: Create believable obstacles.

Romantic Gestures: Showcase meaningful acts of love.

Character Flaws: Develop imperfections in the characters.

Resolution: Provide a satisfying conclusion to their relationship arc.

-------------------------------------------

Girls in Relationships:

This section explores how certain female characters in Star Wars maintain their own identities while being involved in romantic relationships.

Padmé Amidala

Character: It might be considered a bold choice, but as Dave Filoni is known as the TCW and SWR guru, I genuinely appreciate Padmé's character. She embodies the spirit of self-reliance, often adopting the motto, "I'll handle it myself," when she witnesses suffering. As a compassionate and principled member of the Senate, she values diplomacy over violence, serving as a commendable role model by prioritizing dialogue and care for others. Her character shines brightest in episodes where she grapples with political conflicts.

Romance: Transitioning to the subject of her romantic involvement, Padmé and Anakin's relationship has sparked numerous discussions. Despite the uncertainty and occasional turbulence, there is genuine love between them. She envisions a future with him, refusing to give up on him even in the face of his inner struggles. Padmé recognizes Anakin's mental anguish and does her utmost to support him, though the complexities of their circumstances often double their challenges.

Ahsoka Tano

Character: Ahsoka stands as one of the most well-crafted female characters in Star Wars lore, undergoing significant growth and development throughout The Clone Wars (TCW). She evolves from an overconfident and naive child into a mature, thoughtful, and highly respected adult. Her journey is marked by substantial mistakes and profound realizations.

Romance: While Ahsoka experiences various connections throughout TCW, the most notable is with Lux. However, this romance primarily serves as a vehicle for her character development. Lux provides her with insights into the Separatists' perspective on the war and later the Death Watch. While Ahsoka does express interest in him, it's not in a deeply romantic sense. Instead, she's appreciative of the knowledge and experiences gained from their interactions.

Leia Organa

Character: Leia, our first main character introduction, immediately captivates with her compelling beginning. She's taken captive but never succumbs to fear, displaying strength and resolve. Her resilience shines through as she becomes one of the Rebellion's leaders, commanding respect from all quarters. She remains unyielding in her role, displaying a fiery temperament and quick wit reminiscent of her father, while proving to be even more resolute than her brother, a Jedi.

Romance: The iconic romance between Leia and Han Solo portrays the smuggler and the princess in a refreshing light. Instead of conforming to outdated stereotypes, Leia wears the metaphorical pants in their relationship, with Han providing unwavering support. He respects her position and authority, saving personal matters for their private moments. The dynamic is built on trust and mutual respect, avoiding the cliché of a one-sided romance. Notably, this is evident in Return of the Jedi (ROTJ), where Leia gets shot, and Han's caring demeanor is juxtaposed with his trademark smirk as she reveals her weapon. He's the one to express his love, illustrating the mutual affection and growth of both characters.

Hera

Character: Hera serves as the capable captain of the Ghost and its crew, supported by her right-hand man, Kanan, and the astromech droid, Chopper. Despite being a mother, she remains a crucial figure in the New Republic, leading missions and flight teams. Hera defies convention by maintaining her position of power while nurturing a romantic relationship with Kanan.

Romance: In contrast to traditional depictions where women are often portrayed as pining and emotional while men are serious, Hera and Kanan's dynamic reverses these roles. Kanan actively pursues the relationship, while Hera takes on a more serious and authoritative role. This unconventional approach adds depth to their relationship and challenges traditional gender norms.

-------------------------------------------

The Ideals of Rebels' Story and Its Setup Points:

Both the Star Wars Prequels and the Original Trilogy are anchored in the theme of battling oppressive regimes striving for absolute control. The Prequels delve into how this oppression came to be, forming a pivotal narrative standpoint. In contrast, The Clone Wars (TCW) primarily focuses on world-building, offering in-depth explorations of various factions and societies within the galaxy. While TCW provides a comprehensive view of the galaxy during a civil war, it doesn't follow a single large crew's story.

On the other hand, Star Wars Rebels (SWR) places a character-driven focus at its core. Unlike some other Star Wars media, such as movies, series, or shorts, SWR doesn't extensively explore different locations or delve into background storytelling. Instead, it prioritizes character development and episodic narratives.

To clarify my previous statement, SWR serves as a bridge between Episode 3 and Episode 4 of the Star Wars saga. It fills in the gaps, revealing the journey and sacrifices necessary to achieve freedom. The series commences with Ezra, a newly-minted Jedi Padawan, in a galaxy where Jedi are hunted down. He joins the nascent rebellion, which is just beginning to take shape. Ezra represents a glimmer of hope in a desolate world, even as forces of darkness attempt to extinguish that light.

This underscores the significance of SWR. Episode 4 depicted the Rebellion in its full-fledged form, with a substantial crew and support from multiple fronts. However, SWR sheds light on the challenges and sacrifices that made such achievements possible. It demonstrates that what was accomplished required immense personal sacrifice.

The Jedi aspect is exemplified through Kanan, who embodies the essence of a true Jedi. Ezra, too, matures into this role over time. Kanan's journey is unique; he was in the midst of his Padawan training when Order 66 unfolded. He never completed his training in the traditional sense and couldn't fully embrace the Jedi rules and traditions, which often felt restrictive and suffocating. Unbeknownst to him, his love for, attachment to, and bond with his lover, Padawan, and the rest of the crew went against traditional Jedi norms. However, this deviation allowed him to learn things the Jedi should have known centuries ago. Kanan eventually felt the full embrace of the Force, despite his past mistakes and moments of foolishness. He ultimately met his end as a true Jedi Knight.

As for Sabine, her character's growth and journey revolve around taking responsibility for her past mistakes and evolving into a stronger individual. Her journey includes abandoning the Imperial Academy, which produced weapons harmful to her people. This decision placed her family in jeopardy, with the majority of Mandalorians harboring animosity towards her. Despite these challenges, she emerged stronger with the support of those around her and a willingness to confront her past without forgetting or ignoring it.

The relationship between Ezra and Sabine in SWR was intentionally left ambiguous, making it challenging to definitively categorize. While the series provides hints through Ezra's statements, it remains open to interpretation. The internet, as expected, has embraced the ambiguity and given rise to various interpretations, showcasing the power of fan engagement and ship culture.

-------------------------------------------

Ezra and Sabine, Examined from Every Angle:

This section breaks down how each of these interpretations aligns with the characteristics of these relationship types.

Siblinghood

Individuality: With Siblings, there come different personalities. One can be chaotic and the other calm. That’s what we see in that case what can be considered normal in a family. You have the artistic child with her younger brother being more traditional and following his father.

Birth Order: This being one of the strongest arguments with this relationship. It’s for many great to see nonblood people considering each other as found family, where in situation where one lost their family or their family was not good, there are still others that are as close as those you share blood with.

Conflict and Love: This is more of a thing that can be seen with the training of the dark saber, in which the one sibling, who is good at something, that they consider their specialty, having to have share it with the other, as they see it being taken away or provoking the other as they think they are better at something.

Shared Memories: Both have abandonment issues over their family, and they share a lot of missions together.

Complex Emotions: Once again going back to the dark saber training, you could interpret that scene where Ezra is saying that Sabine at least still has family, while he has only one family left, that she is not respecting

Character Development: This can be interpretation for the end of rebels

Realistic Dialogue: A lot of people regard them bickering as sibling bickering

Backstory: In the start, it is implied that with Zeb, she is one that takes him under her wing as a older sister role

Conflict Resolution: They talk to each other

Evolution: It can be them growing older and seeing each other as equals

External Influences: within the ghost crew, they consider each other as family. Hera especially, so its easy to take this as it can be seen that every member implies it for themselves.

Platonic Soulmates

Unique Bond: They are not really romantically nor as siblings introduced in season 3 and 4

Common Values: Both want to free their respective people, destroy the empire and find a place in the galaxy.

Unconditional Support: Within the end, Sabine never states to be romantically involved but she does stay on Lothal, keeps his memorable things in check and waits from him to return.

Enduring Relationship: Both are willing to entrust each other to a lot of things and giving each other the chance to make things happen.

Conflict Resolution: They talk.

Growth Inspiration: Within the season 1 and 2 where Ezra constantly flirts openly to Season 3 and 4 where it is not seen as a romantic way.

Non-Romantic Nature: Barely Romantic gestures of touch in the traditional sense or talking about the feeling to each other, but in a respectable comrade way.

Emotional Depth: Their connection through their past and need to make better of their mistakes while helping each other out of those.

Shared Moments: Their missions

Respectful Boundaries: With Ezra stopping the flirting to concentrate and help Sabine

External Influences: The ghost crew being a close family through common goals and connection gives them a more bigger leeway

Romantic

Chemistry and Attraction: It is clear that Ezra still has an crush on Sabine, with him meeting her for the first time, being enamored with her beauty. Their chemistry is working and expendable. Sabine later is more open for more.

Character Development: From the young kid who has a crush with no real idea to an jedi that keeps it low to fulfill his duty, Ezra evolves within 4 seasons to a more mature way of admiring Sabine while having respect for her. Within the episode where Kanan and Sabine 

Conflict and Tension: From the end of rebels, where Ezra sacrifices himself to keep his loved one self but leaving Sabine alone and confused to Sabine not listening to him when he tells her to or when she does not give him a lot of decision power over her.

Communication: Sabine not being able to trust anyone really to her getting the closest to Ezra for even supporting him on way to dangerous missions and Ezra 

Shared Moments: From the intimate closeness of holding him by his waist to fly to safety, to him keeping her steady on the loath wolves and both refusing to let the other get hurt.

Individual Lives: When it comes to Krownest, Sabine splits up for a little while, when Ezra takes on other missions. They know when they have to do something alone and they have their own bigger problems in the end.

Trust and Vulnerability: Within the later seasons (3 and 4) Sabine opens up to Ezra about her own Demons and gives her full trust to him. Both can depend each other’s live on the other. But when it comes to

Intimacy: Sabine has no problem holding Ezra closer while Ezra still gets flustered a bit(speaking escape Jetpack scene). But other than that they have no problem being closer.

External Influences: Both Chopper and Zeb have been making fun of Ezra and Kanan is aware to some known extend as he has to be the done calming Ezra down, when Sabine is in a Dangerous situation.

Conflict Resolution: On the battlefield its Sabine being the aggressor and Ezra the shield. With other conflicts, it is that Sabine needs time to herself and Ezra worrying but respecting her needs.

Long-Term Compatibility: Sabine cannot imagine a life without Ezra in it and Ezra has stated that he wants to come home to her (as well as the others).

Realistic Challenges: Sabine knowing that 10 years have gone by since Ezra disappeared and still being ever so loyal to him. Ezra, while knowing Sabines competence, still often not wanting her on solo missions.

Romantic Gestures: The Birthday gift from Sabine. The consistent support of Ezra. 

Character Flaws: The way they cannot see other one in pain and taking full front and lying in front of the other.

Resolution: They give each other full trust on the final mission with Sabine on her way towards him.

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Endcut:

In summary, this post aims to offer multiple perspectives on the dynamic between Ezra and Sabine, emphasizing that all three interpretations are valid based on the available knowledge.

Please note that this is a complex analysis, and the nature of their relationship remains open to interpretation.

#ezrabine #sabezra #star wars ships #star wars rebels #star wars #Around 3100 words #ezra bridger #sabine wren #leia organa #hera syndulla #ahsoka #ashoka tano #tw spoilers #please remember to keep it civilized #those are all made with speculation #and one very sleepdeprived me #sooooooo

[sagitariusrising]

I Let The Beast in Too Soon

“I let the beast in too soon, I don't know how to live without my hand on his throat, I fight him always and still. Oh darling, it's so sweet, you think you know how crazy, how crazy I am. You say you don't spook easy, you won't go, but I know, And I pray that you will…”

A man with silver hair meets a woman covered in stars…

18+ content. Orson Krennic / OFC; Modern AU; Modern Rogue One tech interpretations; Boston setting; Defense Contractor!Krennic; Scientist!Krennic; Kyber Crystals; OFC with psychic abilities; Mentions of Wilhuff Tarkin, Galen Erso, Chirrut Îmwe, Baze Malbus; other characters forthcoming; clubbing; alcohol use; smut; mutual attraction dialed up to 11; safer sex practices; OFC doesn't have time for Krennic's games; emotional vulnerability from both characters; fear; Krennic is besotted; more tags to be added later

Word Count: 5450-ish

This story is inspired by the house on the bluff on the coast and my need to put Orson Krennic and his science in a modern setting.

Full courage!! This is my first full fic post ever and the story has lived rent-free in my head for years. Several of you have seen it, you know who you are, specifically @smolbeandrabbles (who was my first reader: OCs = my babies), and @pinksiamese (who gave me thoughtful and constructive feedback, edited what was needed, and kicked my rear end into gear). I owe a lot to @sufferthesea (and her perfect comm that helped form the entire planned story) There's more...

Playlist (in order)

The title comes from "Fast as You Can," by Fiona Apple: This song nicely encompasses the entire planned fic.

"More," by the Sisters of Mercy.

"Fascination Street," by The Cure

"Perfect Kiss," by New Order

"Natural One" by the Folk Implosion

"The Killing Moon," by Echo and the Bunnymen

OFCs faceclaim is here

***

A man with silver hair entered the club. 

Kary noticed him immediately, but who wouldn’t? Confident in his masculinity, pale suit, and haughty expression. He checked his coat at the door and surveyed the dance floor. 

Feigning disinterest, she peeked as he strode to the bar.  He raised his hand and ordered a drink. 

He’s too old to be here, he’s probably slumming tonight. Maybe he’s lost? Or meeting someone? 

That was it. Turning her attention back to the beat of the music, she lost herself in the dancing. Tonight’s venture away from home had a purpose: she needed the distraction, to get outside of her head. 

***

Clubbing in the theatre district hadn’t been part of Orson Krennic’s evening agenda. Tonight was supposed to be his big sendoff, but he’d left the festivities early, feeling let down and almost empty. 

The event had been part presentation, part retirement party. Krennic delivered his academic paper, titled “Nanotechnology and Optic Crystals: Military Applications of Laser Technology for Drone Warfare” at the banquet sponsored jointly by MIT and Tarkin Industries. A celebration, his last hurrah. 

Retired from the Navy with Captain stripes in place,  Krennic went to work in the private sector. For Wilhuff Tarkin, his rival both in school and in the service. Putting their differences aside, the two men had diligently worked to produce technology for military contracts. 

After five years, Krennic had become bored and embittered. Tarkin had regularly second-guessed and belittled his ideas and took more than his fair share of credit for their designs. Krennic was paid well and was respected in the industry--at least to his face. And he had all the status symbols: a penthouse apartment with a view of the waterfront, first name status at all the restaurants, and an expensive car. Plenty of beautiful women threw themselves at him, a rotation of bed partners whom he’d enjoy for the night and forget in the morning.

But the thrill was gone. 

Krennic was bored. He wanted something beyond the superficiality of business transactions and casual sex. His weapon designs had become repetitive, the innovation was gone. The social scene in Boston was dull and noisy. He began to entertain the possibility of a more substantial relationship, but the dating apps were bewildering: all of his matches were airbrushed women with parted lips who called him “Daddy.” 

Galen Erso was the zenith of his disillusion. They had been as thick as thieves in the Science Corps, had come up together in the Futures Program, attended MIT together, and become commissioned officers in the same unit in the Navy. They were like Oppenheimer and Groves: the crystal-based lasers they designed together were invaluable to the government and had been used for crushing conflict in countries across the globe. 

But Galen had seen the impact of their work in real-time, the bodies of civilians whom their weapons had struck down. Horrified and encouraged by his wife, Galen had resigned his commission, left the Navy, and settled on some organic farm in the middle of nowhere to raise a family. 

Krennic had seen Galen at a protest in front of Tarkin Industries. Disheveled, with long hair and hemp trousers, Galen had been carrying a sign that said STOP THE WEAPONS OF WAR and was leading a chant of REMEMBER THE INNOCENT. The next day, Krennic received an email with attached photos of dead bodies and destroyed cities. 

Deciding he needed an exit plan, Krennic spent extra hours at the lab, developing and testing a new application, nanotechnology with ion beams reflecting from lenses made from Kyberium.  Testing in the lab had proved successful, his field simulations had confirmed his hypotheses, and he’d been able to duplicate his results successfully. 

The power of the Kyberium was swift and deadly. Applying for a patent was easy and he had stealthily offered the technology to Raytheon. Krennic was going to get out of Boston, build a house up north by the ocean, and figure out the next chapter of his life.  

After the sale had gone through---a generous profit and a share of Raytheon’s proceeds in perpetuity---he had sold his shares in Tarkin Industries and resigned. Wihuff was furious, apoplectic. And humiliated when the paper Krennic had written about the technology had gotten noticed and published in a well-regarded academic journal. Forced to swallow his pride, Tarkin had arranged for Krennic to present the paper at tonight’s conference and combined the presentation with a retirement party. 

The applause had been thunderous. After the presentation, Krennic accepted a glass of scotch and made his way around the room, shaking hands and nodding at his peers' congratulations. Tarkin muttered “congratulations” and palmed over a shining point of Kyberium, Krennic nodded his thanks and slid the crystal into his pocket.  But the room was stuffy, the company boring, and there was too much fawning. He had already moved on. Krennic ducked out of the gala as soon as he could. 

***

He had boarded the subway with the intent of going home. But at the Theatre District stop, he’d made a spur-of-the-moment decision to get off the train and walk the remainder of the way. 

The sidewalks were crowded with theatergoers, tourists, and scads of people streaming in and out of the blocks of dance clubs. The music coming out of one of the clubs had stopped him: the tunes reminded him of his youth and decided he would have a drink and perhaps find some female company, he’d paid the ridiculous cover charge and gone in. 

The pulse of “More” by the Sisters of Mercy greeted him.  Through flashing lights and the crowd at the bar, the dance floor was packed. 

Meeting women was easy: his looks and obvious income made sure of that. But surveying the room, he thought blonde...brunette...too thin...too fat...too odd looking...taken...Christ, they’re all too young!” 

He ordered bourbon, tugged off his tie, and stuffed it in his pocket. Maybe he would just sit and enjoy the scenery. 

Leaning against the bar, he scanned the crowds. 

And found her. 

Twirling on the dance floor, a shapely redhead. Pale skin, with tattoos covering her shoulders and back. She wore a thin camisole and a flowy skirt made of silky material. Younger than him, but not a kid. She sang along to the music, oblivious to others. 

No dance partner. He watched her rebuff a man who slid up against her. Interesting…

The opening chords of “Fascination Street” by the Cure dropped from the speakers. 

Krennic watched the girl change her rhythm and sway her body to the music; enchanted to watch her run her hands over her shoulders and hips, twisting and turning. He’d found his mark for the evening. He ordered another bourbon and downed it. More courage, he needed a buzz to focus his concentration.

***

Kary was grieving: Baze and Imwe were dead, and their house was on the market. Nan had died two years ago. Her circle of protection, the friends who had helped her understand her powers and harness and control the visions. 

And the responsibility that had been left to her. She shook it off.

Just stop. Dance, get another drink. 

She twirled to the pulse of the music, hands in her hair. The song faded away. Out of breath, she turned to the bar. 

The silver-haired man was staring at her. 

She met his gaze. A jolt flared in her belly. He was cruelly handsome: tall, flinty blue eyes. And still alone. 

What is he doing here? 

Intrigued, she maneuvered to the bar. An empty seat allowed Kary a clear view. 

And why is he staring at me? 

Flagging down the bartender, she ordered a bottle of water.  She downed it in large gulps. Then, a gin and tonic. Triple limes. Her third, fourth drink of the night? She’d forgotten. 

…screw it.

She gulped her drink and swiped her hand across her face. the juniper tingled on her tongue. 

Tonight is for forgetting. 

He was still watching her.

***

Her bare back was half-turned towards him and Krennic’s eyes followed the lines of tattoos; they wrapped her back and shoulders, clear patterns of constellations: Cygnus, Lyra, Hercules, Draco, Capricorn, Sagittarius, Scorpio, Libra. His trained eye found the circumpolar patterns of Ursa Major and Minor, Cassiopeia, and Cepheus.

The night sky, he thought. Northern Hemisphere in the summertime. A slight smile tucked one corner of his mouth. She knows her astronomy.

Repositioning himself to get a better view, he continued to study her. Hair cascaded into tendrils of copper that glimmered in the colored lights. Damp with sweat, her camisole clung to her body, enhancing the round sweep of her waist and breasts. But her smile was unaffected, she seemed oblivious to the admiring glances. 

Including mine…

The music covered his growl. That body. 

Phantom sensations of her pressed against him, curves swaying on the dance floor. His cock stirred as he envisioned her hair spread across the sheets of his bed, his hands moving her hips to match his rhythm, that smile evolving into moans of pleasure.

Krennic put down his empty glass and signaled the bartender. “Another. And send a drink,” he said, raising his voice over the music, “to the redhead with the tattoos.”

He watched the bartender mix another drink and slide it in front of her. She shook her head. The bartender retracted it and poured her a shot of something instead. Krennic watched her toss it back and signal for another.

“Sorry, bro.” The bartender handed Krennic the refused cocktail. “The lady says no.”

Krennic smirked and stared down the bar. Her eyes met his; cool and savvy, gleaming with interest. No giggling or primping herself, no salacious expressions or fluttering of eyelashes: none of the usual female responses to his interest. But she was returning his appraising gaze, eyes drifting from his face, studying his body, drifting to below his waist. She met his eye again and seemed to remember herself, and her eyes darted away.  Then she shrugged and returned his smirk. She turned away. 

This girl is a rebel.  

His intrigue continued to grow. So did the lust coursing through him. He got up and strode towards her.

***

Kary focused her attention on the drink in front of her. 

Who is this guy? 

The way he held himself and the smirk on his face told her that he was used to getting what he wanted.

This is getting more and more interesting... he’s played this game before, but I’m not falling for run-of-the-mill games. 

“Not feeling thirsty?” 

His voice was rich and distinguished, gilded with an accent she couldn’t quite place: Australian? South African? 

He glared at the young man sitting next to her until he got up and left. 

Stomach flipping, Kary watched him take the vacated seat. She shook her head and looked him over; he was dressed in a crisp white shirt, pale grey slacks, cufflinks, and an expensive watch. The body beneath was broad through the chest and tapered at the waist. He had enormous hands. Close up, his eyes were shockingly blue, full of intelligence and cunning. 

Not as old as I thought. She studied his hair; up close, black threads wove through the silver.

He studied her too, eyes sweeping over her.

“Not feeling chatty, either?” 

Kary shook her head. She met his eyes and felt the familiar white noise in her head that was the precursor of…what she was drinking to block. She focused on his mouth instead, fearful that her eyes would give away the attraction she felt. 

Or see who he really is…

Finishing her drink and tilting her head towards the dance floor, Kary got up and walked away. 

***

Snubbed again. He watched her weave into the crowd. Or am I?

Krennic’s amusement deepened. His interest sharpened. This stunning woman wasn’t falling prey to his small talk and wasn't visibly impressed by his stature. His pride was wounded, but with every passing second, he felt she was worth the challenge. He wished he was still in the Navy; perhaps his dress whites would have made a stronger impression, but then again, she didn’t know who he was—his past, his work, his connections.

Even if she did, would she be impressed? 

He scanned the dance floor, found her twirling to the music. They locked eyes and she jerked her head.

New Order blasted from the DJ booth. “Perfect Kiss.” It was one of his favorites, with its gorgeous synth-pop bridge and climax. 

I haven’t danced informally for years. 

Downing the last of his bourbon, he straightened his shoulders and neck. He kept his eyes on her and removed his cufflinks, and rolled up his sleeves.

***

Keeping her back to the bar, Kary waited for the silver-haired man to join her. 

Will he accept the challenge? Or is he too proud to let go of himself?

Warmth settled up and down her back. The scent of expensive cologne and tobacco wrapped around her shoulders. Lips hovered close to her ear.

“May I touch you?”

That accent. She shivered, her thighs clenching together; she turned her head toward him. Nodded. Her hips filled his splayed hands. Kary’s head spun. He found the beat of the music with his body and buried his face in her hair, matching her pace. His fingers caressed through the silk of her clothes. His hard cock pressed against her backside. 

No attempt to hide that. She struggled with her breath.

The nine minutes of the song felt like an eternity, which then dissolved into “Natural One” by Folk Implosion.

He spun her around and locked eyes with her, slinging his arms over her shoulders. She didn’t know if it was the drink, the music, or just lust, but she pressed herself close to the man with the silver hair. Tugging her closer, he eased her into a thrusting movement that matched the beat of the song. He slipped a long muscular thigh between hers and she ground herself against him, fresh jolts of desire rattling her spine. His hand skimmed down her back and cradled her bottom, moved lower, and went under her skirt; she was wet, and if she kept going like this, she was going to come right there on the dance floor. 

I don’t care.

The white noise in her head dissolved into the red noise in her blood.

The music changed again.

***

The moody romance of Echo and the Bunnymen’s “Killing Moon” slowed the pace of the dancefloor. 

Krennic stepped back and let a sliver of air between them. Twirling her into a waltz-like move, he steered one steadying hand between her shoulders and dropped the other one to her hip. As the music swelled, he eased her into a backward dip and left a lingering kiss on the throat. 

She groaned.

Grinning, he drifted his lips up the curve of her neck.

He wanted more but the song ended and she pulled away from him.

“I’ll be back.” She made brief eye contact, then smirked. “But if I’m not, you should come find me.”

She walked away, trailing her fingers down his arm.

***

Pushing her way through the crowd of women in front of the ladies room, she found an empty single bathroom with a door. Locking herself in, washed her hands and studied herself in the mirror. She was flushed, hot. Her hair was a mess. 

Do I know what to do next? She steadied her breath. He’s a catch, that’s for sure…but why is he here? 

She wasn’t looking for a man. The dance floor was full of women who would gladly take her place. She had come to the club to escape her grief. He was just a bonus to the night, a sexy dance partner who could be filed away as a fantasy.

He’s fucking hot, but there is too much at stake. She pushed back from the sink. I’ve gotta lose him…like now.  

Running one hand through her snarled-up hair, she opened the door. 

What happened next was a blur.

***

Krennic grabbed her hips and pulled her against him. He kissed her full on the mouth, his tongue seeking hers. He grinned as she returned the kiss, once, twice then jerked her head away and buried her face in his neck, kissing along his jawline and running her fingers through his hair. 

Nails scraped against his scalp. Krennic growled and shoved her against the bathroom sink. Hoisting her up, he felt her legs wrap around his waist. Desire boiled over as she ground herself against him. Pushing her further back he kissed her chest, pushed his hands under her camisole and bra, and cupped her bare breasts, running his thumbs over her nipples. She thrust herself back against him, hands scrambling at the buttons on his shirt, growing more desperate and her hands traveled lower, the last button popped off and rattled against the floor. 

Chest bare, he grunted as she nipped at his collarbone, the sensation going straight to his cock. Pulling her back again against the sink, he yanked up her skirt, running his hands up her legs. Krennic couldn’t contain his smile at the whimpering sounds she made as he plunged his fingers past her panties and found her wet. 

Krennic pressed his fingers into her. Swirling and exploring, he grazed her clit and pressed harder as he heard her gasp.  Stopping, he lowered his mouth against her ear and whispered: 

“Is this for me? Did I do this to you?” His smile got wider as he met her eyes and watched her nod. 

Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of her panties, he drew them down. She spread her legs to pull them off entirely and reached for his belt. 

Her hands rubbed his cock through his pants, then stopped. Hissing at the friction, he looked down at her: she was frowning. 

“Do you have something?” Her voice was soft, but firm. 

Krennic mentally clawed his way out of his haze of lust. 

What? Something? Oh. Protection. 

Of course he didn’t have anything: tonight he hadn’t planned on an adventure with a strange woman.

Glancing around the room, he noticed a condom dispenser on the wall. Coins only. He had no change. 

Reluctantly pulling away from her, Krennic examined the dispenser. Bending his elbow, he jammed it against the machine. Once, twice, three times. The dispenser dented and clanged open, condoms scattering across the floor. Krennic grabbed a handful and tossed them on the edge of the sink. Problem solved. 

She grabbed the waist of his slacks and pulled him back to her. Another kiss then moved her face away.

Why wouldn’t she look at him?

And why was she avoiding kissing him on the mouth but letting him touch her everywhere else? 

Krennic resolved to get to the bottom of these questions right after…

An insistent nip under his ear brought him back to reality. Krennic responded with a bite to her neck and slid his hands back under her skirt. Less tentative this time, he thrust a finger directly into her warmth and slid his hand around her back, holding her steady as she gasped and teetered on the edge of the sink. The only way this was going to work was if she could keep her balance against the sink. Fucking in a public bathroom was something he hadn’t done in years and he certainly wasn’t going to take her on the filthy floor. 

She gasped as he pressed into her, she was so fucking wet, his palm pressing against her clit. Feeling her rub against him harder, he withdrew his hand. Krennic smirked as she whined in protest. He kept his voice light, teasing. 

“Feeling eager?”

Krennic’s belt buckle clattered as she unzipped his slacks, jerking them down along with his boxers.  Krennic saw her eyes widen as she boldly grasped him, stroking cock to the base, tightening and relaxing her grip. He groaned as he watched her lean forward and tease him with her tongue.   

Hissing, he pushed her head away and pushed himself against her heat as she dragged her nails across his chest. 

Reaching behind himself, Krennic fumbled for a condom. He had to get inside her. Hands shaking, he dropped the first condom on the floor. She had both hands on him, clenching, dragging. He couldn’t concentrate. Couldn’t open the fucking condom. 

Impatient, she released him and plucked the condom out of his hands.  Blinking in confusion, Krennic watched as she effortlessly opened the wrapper and with swift and triumphant ease, sheathed it over him.  

Grabbing her waist again, he tugged her up onto the sink. Her hand reached between them, and grasped his cock, Krennic covered her hand with his and allowed her to guide him…

Watching her carefully, Krennic saw her eyes go out of focus as he eased into her. Trying to go slowly, to savor her, he gripped her hips, grit his teeth, and fought the urge to bury himself completely into her. She fought him, covering his hands with hers again, threading her fingers over his. Krennic was startled at the sense of intimacy he felt, but this was forgotten as she pushed her hips against his, engulfing him in soft warmth. 

Groaning at the unexpected movement, he watched her, awed as she moved her body against his, bore down once, twice, and then trembled, and cried out. He felt her clench and pulse around him and realized that she was coming already. 

Krennic watched her bite her lips to smother her cries of pleasure. Feeling her go limp, he supported her body against his and continued to thrust into her. She was perfect: hair askew, face flushed, hands sliding across his chest. 

But she wouldn’t look him in the eye. 

Desperate to see her, Krennic pulled out, she whined and clutched at him. He roughly spun her around and pushed her against the sink. Gripping her hips, fingers digging into her soft flesh, he plunged back into her from behind, feeling himself grow harder as she moaned gratefully when he thrust back into her. Gasping, she moved her hips to match his rhythm. 

Burying his face in her hair, Krennic struggled to hold his composure. She was too far away from him, her hands and chest pressed against the sink. Keeping his thrusts shallow, he ran his hands over her back and shoulders and pulled her back against him. his hand roamed over her belly, caressing his fingernails across her breasts, he pressed his hand against her chest and drew her against him. 

He caught a glimpse of them in the mirror in front of the sink. Her face was a mask of pleasure. 

The mirror…

Krennic leaned closer, and whispered in her ear. 

“Look at me, little rebel…”

Her eyes met his in the mirror, feline green and heavy-lidded. She reached up and grasped his hair, shrieking as she came again, slamming her hips against his, keeping her eyes locked with his in the mirror. 

Krennic fucked her through her second orgasm. The combination of her pulsing around his cock with their eye contact and the new rhythm of her hips against him sent him over his own edge. His orgasm shot through him. He gasped, pounding himself into her, coming hard, blissful, dissolving. 

He continued to thrust through the aftershocks, burying his face in her neck, breathing in her scent, something floral, her sweat combined with his own. Moving his hand down her chest, over her belly, and back down between her legs, fingers brushing against her clit, grinning at her gasps. 

Images of tenderness flashed through his mind. Inviting her to his bed, drinking coffee, and lounging in bed with the newspaper. Her tattoos, the stars lining her shoulders and back:  maybe she would understand his work. 

Christ, I didn’t even know her name. 

Still inside her but receding, he wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. Her hand moved against his, then up to his face. She kissed him. Once, twice...she didn’t pull away. 

Someone banged at the door. “Hurry up in there!!!”  

Krennic reluctantly pulled away, and withdrew from her, wincing. She made a mewling sound as she lowered her head. He pulled off the condom, washed his hands, and turned to her. She was meeting his eyes now. He reached for her...

“Will you excuse me?” 

Nodding, he adjusted himself, buttoning his shirt. 

“Just give me a minute”

Krennic stepped out, pushing against another couple trying to get in “Wait your fucking turn”. 

***

Kary sagged against the sink, body thrumming and trying to collect her thoughts. 

When their eyes locked in the mirror, Kary had a vision.

Shouting, fists slammed against tables. A panorama of explosions. The man’s voice, full of awe and pride. 

“Oh! It’s beautiful” 

Combined with his hands on her body, his cock thrusting, the vision had sent her over the edge.  The best sex she’d ever had. 

Her legs were wobbly, she was shocked at how empty she had felt when he pulled out. Turning around to see her backside in the mirror, Kary noticed marks on her hips. She was probably going to have bruises tomorrow. 

I don’t care…

But she did: the visions frightened her. His presence, his power. She was intrigued by the man with the silver hair. He was stern, but a tiny bit vulnerable, a skilled lover who had met her challenge. What was he like outside of this place? 

Hold on: you don't do things like this, you're drunk and lonely, the stars aligned and you let your guard down. 

The fear and desire were overwhelming, and he was waiting for her. 

Did he feel her power? 

Never mind, you’ve got to lose him. Go home and forget this ever happened. 

Cleaning herself up she noticed her panties under the sink, along with the button that had snapped from his shirt. 

Collecting herself, Kary opened the door. He was leaning against the wall, ankles crossed, head lowered. Raising his eyes to her, he bit his lip and gave a shy smile. He reached for her hand. 

“Hey, little rebel…”

Her stomach flipped as his blue eyes continued to plead with her: he had given her that look in the mirror. Kary felt the pulsing between her legs return. 

“I think this is yours.” She held up the button. 

His smile was boyish, the arrogance she had seen earlier was gone. He traced circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. 

Kary tucked it into his pants pocket. 

I need to get out of here. 

“Listen, I’ve got to...you know…” He jerked his head towards the men’s room. “Meet you at the bar?” 

She nodded, and his hand lingered on hers as he pulled away to stand in the short line. Kary backed away, keeping eye contact with him until she left the area. 

She had five minutes, tops. Weaving around the dance floors to the crowded bar, she pushed her way through and flagged the bartender. Throwing a wad of cash on the bar, Kary made her way to the coat check. 

***

Navigating his way back to the bar, Krennic was lost in thought. He was going to settle his bar tab, get her out of this club, and take her to his apartment. Maybe he’d fuck her again, but it wasn’t necessary tonight. He just wanted to hold her, wake up next to her. Get to know her, study the tattoos on her back up close. Figure out who this mystery girl was, and why this felt like something more than a casual fuck. 

She could be the start of something beautiful.

Signaling the bartender, Krennic tossed down a credit card. Signing off on his tab, he glanced around the bar. He surveyed the dance floor: no sign of her. A coil of concern bloomed into panic.  Flagging down the bartender again, Krennic asked “Have you seen the little redhead who was here earlier?” 

The bartender pointed behind him. “I think that’s her over there…” 

Krennic spun around and saw her at the coat check counter. 

She was leaving!

Fighting his way through the crowd, Krennic shouted “Wait!!! Don’t go!!! Please!!”  She glanced over her shoulder, and he caught her eye, pleading “Wait!! I don’t even know your name!”

Her eyes flashed with panic. What happened to the woman who had clung to him? 

Fuck!!

Krennic cursed out loud, shoving people out of his way. She was too far away from him! Stumbling towards the exit, he shoved the door open and ran onto the crowded street. Panicking, he looked left, right, searching desperately for her in the throngs of people. He couldn’t find her. 

Struggling against the impulse to punch out a window, a person, something, Krennic drove both hands into his hair, his heart pounding in despair. He was frantic, he had to find her, but how? 

He didn’t even know her name, how could he let her slip away?!?! 

An idea occurred to him. He pushed back into the club, through the crowds, and up to the bar. Almost shoving a young woman aside, he reached over and grabbed the bartender’s arm. 

“The redhead!? Did she pay by credit card? Do you know her name?!”

Shaking off Krennic's hand, the bartender said “No man, sorry. I’ve never seen her before tonight, she’s not a regular here”

“Did she pay with a credit card!?”

“No man, sorry. She paid with cash. If I were you I’d check your pockets. Lots of thieves come in here, gotta be careful…”

Krennic cursed aloud again, bar patrons staring at him. She couldn't have been a thief. He reached in his pockets. Wallet, money clip, cufflinks-all there. His credit cards and cash were intact, his watch was still on his wrist. He dug into his back pocket, hands finding the button from his shirt, and something else. 

He pulled out a bundle of silk and lace. Her panties. Despite himself, Krennic grinned. His little rebel had gotten the last word in. Now how the fuck could he find her? 

***

Heart hammering,  Kary fought back unplanned tears. He was frantic, heartbroken. She had heard him shout after her and almost had a change of heart. But she shoved the impulse aside and hurried out of the club. Pushing through the people on the sidewalk, she ducked into a parking garage and pressed herself against a retaining wall, hearing him holler in the streets. 

She looked for a way out. The parking garage had an exit at the opposite end. Pulling out her phone, she called an Uber to pick her up. She needed to get home, away from where he could find her.  

Baze and Îmwe had tried to teach her control her response to the Kyber crystals. But the visions were too overwhelming, unbearable. There was always a surge of power, blue and green fire.

And the silhouette of a man…

Dammit, this is no time to speculate, get out of here…

Looking up, she searched the shy. Through the glow of the city, she found the glint of the North Star and breathed through her panic.

Kary didn’t even know the silver-haired man’s name. It was better this way. 

***

Krennic paced back and forth. He had taken a cab home, muttering his address to the driver and sitting in the back, clenching his fists and trying to keep a handle on his panic and anger. 

He’d poured himself a bourbon, downed it, and poured another. The apartment, modern and sleek, seemed less like a home, too damn tidy. She would have been a beam of freshness and color to this place. 

The bourbon was getting to him and he was going to pay tomorrow. Krennic didn’t care, the drink wasn’t numbing his wounded pride and the confusing -imagined?- connection he felt with the redhead. He pulled her panties out of his pocket. Again. Stroking the soft silk, he remembered the groans of pleasure, her weight against him, her lips, his surprising feelings. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve wanted to take someone home with you. 

He clenched his fists, downed the rest of his bourbon, and threw the tumbler to the floor. Ignoring the shattering glass, he thought “This is why I have to get the fuck out of Boston”. 

Desperate for a distraction, Krennic picked up his phone. He scrolled through what looked like a million missed text messages and phone calls.

His realtor.

“​Orson, where the hell are you? I’ve been trying to reach you all night. I’ve got your dream house, it’s going on the market next week, and you’ve got the first showing. Be there, bring your checkbook.”

A date. An address: Coburn Cove. Manchester-by-the-Sea. 

And several photos of a ramshackle house atop a buff facing the ocean.

…to be continued

#orson krennic #orson krennic x ofc #k/k #ben mendelsohn #rogue one #more tags tbd #krick's fics

[onesingularartbean]

I’ve been thinking a lot about a Rogue One/Star Trek crossover and I can’t contain my brain anymore.

A warning: this does allude to potential spoilers for DS9.

I picture Cassian as Commander Andor, first officer of Captain Draven on the USS Fleming. He’s a quarter Vulcan (his mother’s side), which always gave him a bit of an edge in problem solving and the art of keeping calm. (Yes, his ears have the slightest of points.) However, he sometimes gets that reckless human urge, which allows him to be endlessly creative. He was a regular rule follower until he met Jyn, who kind of changed his whole life. He likes to pretend to resist her bold ideas, but they both know he’s going to follow her no matter what.

Jyn Erso is a half-Bajoran Lieutenant on the security track (Lyra was born on Bajor and was a member of the a Bajoran Resistance cell with Saw Gerrera) who somehow managed to get recruited to Starfleet by Cassian. This was after many years fighting under Saw’s Maquis cell after her mother’s death and father’s kidnapping by Cardassian invaders. Because of her skill, she was fast-tracked through the Academy and now serves on Draven’s ship. She and Cassian butted heads quite a bit over regulations, but that grew into mutual respect and etc. Her favorite place on the ship is the arboretum.

I went back and forth on Kay. He could be an Android, but that felt a bit too easy. Instead, I see him as a Romulan defector. Cassian rescued him during a particularly sensitive mission after Kay was left for dead. He now serves as Chief Science Officer/Cassian’s right hand man. He pretends to hate poker nights, but he always shows up and wins (unless Bodhi is around).

Chirrut is Betazoid, so he has a vast emotional awareness and telepathic abilities. Because he doesn’t have the trademark Betazoid eyes, he is a master at throwing people for a loop. No one expects him to throw back their inner thoughts, but he does because he’s Chirrut. He is the ship’s councilor and a fucking badass in a phaser fight (and what a killer combo it is when his husband is around). He and Baze have a good laugh over the UST between Cassian and Jyn. He was barred from participating in Han’s “when will they” betting pool, but Baze wasn’t so he won anyway lol

Baze screams Klingon to me, though he’s more anti-establishment than most after barely surviving a border skirmish after the Klingon’s attempted invasion of Cardassia. He met Chirrut shortly after and the two have been inseparable ever since. Baze lives by his own personal code of honor and isn’t afraid of a good fight. He and Jyn do Mok’bara (Klingon martial arts) together each morning.

And sweet, lovely Bodhi is a bright ensign on the engineering crew. He’s the pride and joy of his large family as he’s the first to ever join Starfleet and complete academy training. He and Jyn attended at the same time and became fast friends. He tutored Jyn in high-level engineering courses, while she got him combat ready. He kills everyone at poker night when Chirrut isn’t there.

#rogue one crew #star trek au #a little bit of #rebelcaptain #Cassian eventually gets his own command and guess who comes with lol #rogue one

[skinks]

Oh my god. You are a saviour!!!!!!!! Idk but after some what, 6 hours, im not the same person anymore?? The English. The English. Its so packed. Cant stop crying after the last ep i there is a hole inside my chest now it hurts so much idk what to tell more like yeah amazon produced silly western with white girl saviour moment haha how about feeling the well of every humanly possible emotions after some .... several hours? I... didnt expected that. Cornelia...

Cant say thank you enough for your ramblings in the tags!!!!!!!!! You are not a frequent media enjoyer so to hear from you in the tags was such a suprise that ive downloaded it like after i just came home from work and was so dumbfolded by the narrative ? one ep for one day so i... wasnt aware of... you know... last three eps direction (but it was always there, always!!!). the fucking Event of my life thank you so much for mentioning it!!!!!!!!!!!!! Idk im just speechless....

ANON!!!! I GET IT BRO I GET IT….. event of OUR lives

You’re right, it’s so incredibly packed it’s… idk where to begin replying to you but I agree, the plotting is so well-done and teased out with just enough detail that by the time you reach the last episode’s reveals you have to recontextualise every interaction you’ve seen so far.

It’s really a testament to the power of writing that doesn’t just blandly dump exposition out for an audience it doesn’t trust - the reason I keep going bonkers bananas about the dialogue is because, yes, it’s heightened, but it’s REAL. Real characters with painful motivations WOULD keep secrets and talk in arcs around the subjects they don’t want to really talk about. Then it’s those arcs that keep Eli and Cornelia intersecting and sharing and coming to the realisation that somehow, in the enormity of the endless prairie they’ve found one other person who understands them…. I can’t think about it too much I keep crying lmao I sympathise with the hole in your chest, like I have been GUTSHOT

Once again it’s the tragedy. The layers of parallels to figure out on a rewatch. I think this type of reaction in me to certain media only comes along every so often because it’s only the most weighty, tragic implications of narrative and characters with doomed love that get me this good. Brokeback Mountain, Baze & Chirrut from Rogue One, obviously Reddie post-itch2 and now this. It’s come along right at the sweet spot for me when I’ve really been craving Western stories and feeling the lack of emotionally-moving cinema this year. I’ve had a lot of disappointments in the theatre ngl, a lot of duds. So it was such a fucking horrible delightful treat to basically get a sweeping 6 hour western roadtrip movie where every decision has been carefully, deliberately made - from the acting to the costumes, production design, direction, music, everything - to tell THIS story. Their story. Revisionist and triumphant and tragic and romantic and violent all at once.

Maybe it’s an indictment of how few pieces of truly well-written visual storytelling I’m exposed to but it’s been such a breath of fresh air. Characters with very different stories and goals and arcs that still manage to see something of the same driving force (magic!!!) in each other? Themes of reclaiming that which was stolen from you, both literal and metaphysically? Identity, agency, land, history, family, a HOME??! My friend @benevolentbridgetroll likened it to Mad Max Fury Road in that sense, both works are using the grand visuals of wide open spaces to tell a story about momentum and desperate human connection and Never Being Able To Go Home Again but also that sometimes you have to try, because there are people along the way who need your help.

And on top of that it’s using only the SEXIEST of “golden hour sunsets shining through the clouds of Nebraska dust kicked up by our leading man silhouetted rearing on a stallion” visuals to tell the story like HELLOOOOOOO? I love imagery. The horror of the time is all the more real for being given the weight it deserves; saturated, slow-motion, the hyper-real intensity of traumatic memory without ever being grimdark or exploitative for grimdark’s sake.

Plus Chaske Spencer deserves an emmy or a bafta or SOME kind of award I’m dead serious. Not since Heath Ledger played Ennis del Mar in 2005 has a man imbued such rich inner heartbreak to tight little smiles and devastating, carefully chosen words and the meaning that comes from what you choose to Look at when you know certain Looking will get you killed.

Because that’s another thing I agree with you about - when I started the series my main worry was that it was going to result in another white saviour story, and with the caveat that obviously I’m both white and non-American, I think the show avoided that. Not only are both Cornelia and Eli’s arcs given equal importance to the entire theme of the story, but it literally couldn’t exist if it wasn’t specifically ABOUT how the experiences of women and Native peoples in the wild west differ from the typical White Cowboy Conquering New Unexplored Land narrative. Eli is given all the agency in the world to make a series of decisions FOR HIMSELF and what it means for him to be a Pawnee man in this place at this time. That’s literally what his arc is about, and it’s compelling! Also the series was made with a ton of consultation and approval from members of the Pawnee nation so overall I do think they were trying to tell as authentic a story as possible.

Anyway. I’m so so glad you watched it after my incoherent yelling in the tags, that makes me so happy! I would love for more people to enjoy it even just so I can read more fic or look at more gifs 😭 I have so much homework this week I can’t spend it all on photoshop. Also have to say that you calling me “not a frequent media enjoyer” REALLY tickled me and I’ve been laughing about it for two days now, I feel like all I do is enjoy media. It just takes some particularly good shit for me to get super-annoying about it on tumblr so for that I’m eternally grateful. 2022 media has been so bland for me besides The Locked Tomb series that I was beginning to think I’d lost the ability to feel shrimp emotions at movies any more, but here we are. I’m shrimping so so hard and I love it. Thank you for your message!!!

#the english 2022 #the english

[lillytalons]

This is my non comprehensive and unfinished list of Drift Compatible pairs

Drift compatible

Leverage

Eliot and parker:

They just are, they both love hardison but he’s better at being tech support outside the drift. Plus, they really only trust him to be monitoring them. They both know how to take emotion out of the problem when necessary.

Person of Interest

John and Shaw:

Chaos twins, need I say more? Actually I’m gonna, people were a bit afraid trying to find a pairing for them because of their pasts (epecially john and Cara who were a brutal team that wrecked John when Cara died) and were afraid they might make things worse for each other, but they actually leveled each other out to a shocking degree because the machine (a doctor in this case) saw what most people don’t, that they deeply care about justice, they’re compassionate, and have a strong sense of right and wrong-it’s just that for them the end justifies the means to a degree others might not feel.

Doctor Who

Ten and Donna:

I think Donna could also be compatible with nine, and it takes her a minute with ten, but they do get there, they make each other better.

Stormlight Archive

Kal and Moash former:

ok this one is odd because I think they were pushed to pilot together and it worked for a bit, especially whenever kaladin’s mental health is declining, but they stopped him piloting because of that and when he got better he couldn’t drift with Moash anymore. Moash found someone who’s destructive like him and Kaladin ended up with Syl. Shallan and him are oddly compatible but there was a bit too much tension with Adolin and Kaladin could tell she was hiding something, which after Moash freaked him out.

Adolin and Maya

Adolin used to drift with Dalinar but Dalinar retired and he stayed a loner until Maya, he was compatible with Renarin but Renarin was too sick to actually pilot. Maya is so quiet people didn’t think it would work but Adolin is used to Renarin and isn’t as much of a dumb jock as people think. People don’t understand that Dalinar and Adolin worked well because they fight the same AND they’re both very smart.

Stranger things

Steve and Robin:

Robin didn’t trust him at first but their first drift test percentage was so shockingly high that afterword they spent like days together getting to know each other. Most likely people in the base to be throwing potential partners at each other

Psych

Shawn and Gus:

https://www.tumblr.com/hmslusitania/745431572726038528/shawn-and-gus-are-drift-compatible-but-under-no

Owl House

Amity and Hunter:

I think this one would take some work, but say they got paired together in their overachiever/my worth is tied to performance phase. They would fall out of synch for a bit, but would come back together later courtesy of Luz (who I don’t think is great at the drift -following the rabbit is an issue- but can spot good pairings/pilots a mile away, and helps people get to where they need to be mentally) (side note, I could see her as an adult actually being great at temporary pairings, once she’s self assured enough that’s she’s stable in herself she can adjust to be what a person needs for emergency situations)

Star Wars

Anakin and Obi-wan (pre darkside):

I don’t think I need to justify this one, but Obi-wan suffers extremely when the bond is broken in drift

Han and Chewbacca:

Similar to the Shawn/gus scenario on the surface, but they will actually refrain from major property damage (probably)

Jyn and Cassian:

This one also is a growing to be compatible situation, but they fit better than they expected, he thought she was too selfish, she thought he wouldn’t trust her or compromise, turns out they work wonderfully together

Baze and Chirrut:

It took them a few years but they’re like the most stable and dependable pairing, despite Chirruts tendency to charge towards danger

I’m definitely right about all of these but I will accept additions!

#sw #stormlight archive #poi #psych #rogue one #leverage #owl house #stranger things #doctor who #dw

[annisthree]

Andor Wednesday #1, “Won’t You Let Us Wander” by angel_deux

Okay, here we go! As a reminder: this is a weekly series where we recommend Cassian-centred stories to one another. If you have any recommendations, let me know via comments or asks, and it will get featured in some of the future posts. Don’t be shy to self-promote :)

We’re starting off with one my favourites. It has everything: Rebelcaptain, angst, humour, it’s long as hell and beautifully written. What’s not to love?

Title: Won’t You Let Us Wander (series)

Author: angel_deux

Pairing: Jyn/Cassian, minor Chirrut/Baze

Other characters: Leia, Draven, Bodhi, Luke, Han, Mon Mothma

Words: 243,498

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/624404 (supposedly tumblr has issues with external links, so until I figure out an alternative, you’re just gonna have to copy-paste; sorry!)

Author’s tumblr: angel-deux-writes (the author doesn’t seem to be active anymore; also, this series isn’t posted on their tumblr)

Rating: Teen and up 

TW: Angst, torture, occasional discussion of suicide, gaslighting, emotional manipulation, discussion of grief/mourning

Description: The series is divided into 13 parts: that includes 6 main missions and 7 interludes. 

The author describes it as “continued misadventures of Rogue One”, and that summarises it pretty well: the plot is incredibly well-constructed and addictive, and the romance bit is *cheff’s kiss*. Get ready for an emotional rollercoaster, though. 

I remember reading the last mission and being absolutely unable to put the story down, there is sooooo much going on, both in terms of action and feelings. But  the angst is really well-balanced with some fluff and really good humour. 

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.

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

#andor wednesday #fic rec #cassian andor #andor #rebelcaptain #jyn x cassian #cassian andor x jyn erso

[hersterical]

My take on ST characters in SW universe:

Will started off as a Jedi and El started off as a Sith/dark force user but they both end up as Gray Jedis.

Mike is the Han to Will and El’s Luke and Leia, except he has all of Han’s attitude with none of his athletic/gunslinger abilities.

Dustin builds and designs droids. He is constantly butting heads with the ship’s mechanic/ other mean girl Max. (Who is in an “unspoken” power struggle with Mike for the title of ship’s official mean girl)

Lucas is the pilot who actually has his priorities in order and is the only one Max trusts with the ship. He’s usually the voice of reason but has his weaknesses, usually involving taking on passengers who are obviously trouble because “they need help”. Or trying to impress Max with a risky maneuver.

Erica is learning how to be a pilot from Lucas and is insistent that she only wants to learn so she can someday leave all these losers behind but she really wants to learn because of how much she looks up to Lucas. She also enjoys learning about ship mechanics from Max and battle strategies from Mike. She has zero interest in the force. She also enjoys hanging out with the older group and is more willing to be seen in public with them than the members of the younger group. Nancy was separated from her family at a young age and became a Mandalorian foundling. (More like Sabine and Bo-Katan than Din)

Argyle strongly believes in the force and has/had a similar job to Chirrut and Baze and is slightly force sensitive and is aware of this. Jonathan is pretty strongly force sensitive but is unaware of this because he’s used to Will and El levels of force shenanigans.

Steve and Robin are both force sensitive but it manifests itself in unusual ways. Mostly through their force connection with each other. (They can sense each other’s emotions, have silent conversations through sheer vibes and eye contact, etc.) They are both amazing at convincing people of things that they have no right being able to convince anyone of. Steve is also able to sense whenever one of his idiots is in danger (like Luke) while Robin is weirdly good at picking up languages and making impossible leaps in logic that turn out to somehow be correct. Neither of them are aware of their force sensitivity. The only one who does know is Argyle who thinks everyone knows and just doesn’t talk about it for some reason.

Eddie is Some Guy who got way in over his head with some trouble, accidentally saved Mike, Dustin, and Lucas’ lives, and now they can’t get rid of him. (No one except for Hopper tries very hard anymore)

Hopper and Joyce are co-leaders of the town on an outer-rim planet that everyone uses as their base of operations. (They’re usually split up into the older/younger groups but they also mix and match. Such as the Scoops Troop). The kids all think they’re having a much more exciting time with traveling the galaxy than these two stuck in the middle of nowhere. No one is aware of the full extent of mystery solving and bandit catching that these two take part in. All the kids are aware that they won’t narc on them to whoever the ruling government of the galaxy is at the time, but they don’t know the extent that Hop and Joyce go to to keep them out of trouble. Of course Hopper rips into them more than enough to make up for that whenever they make a particularly stupid decision. Joyce’s disappointment and worry is a worse punishment than anything Hopper or the controlling government could come up with combined.

#stranger things #el hopper #will byers #mike wheeler #dustin henderson #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #platonic stobin #robin buckley #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #star wars #jonathan byers #argyle stranger things #eddie munson #chief hopper #joyce byers #i think that’s everyone #star wars au #may the fourth be with you

[technicalthinker]

Like I really haven't watched Rogue One since 2016. I saw it for the first time, same day bought funko pops of Chirrut and Baze, and then ended up seeing it 2 times in the cinema. Bawled my eyes out each time, and then never saw it once released on dvd.

I think it was a weird time because Rogue One really was the PEAK of my Star Wars investment. I really loved TFA, but then the fandom got messy and I just fell off afterwards around TLJ.

But so god after Andor I really wanna rewatch Rogue One, but I'm sure I'll be a sobbing mess. First because it's been a while, and second because the investment in Cassian and the narrative will just hit SO DIFFERENT.

I was like "I wanna borrow my parents home cinema setup to watch" but now I'm like. Maybe I need to sit here in my basement and watch it on my own so I can scream and cry and feel all the emotions in peace.

#amanda rambles #star wars blogging #new hyperfixation has joined the fight!!!!!! #would dive into a bunch of other sw media if it wasnt bc i feel like it would be a bit disservice to them now when brains aLL ANDOR

[swan-orpheus]

Apart from the high emotional stakes and the intensely beautiful cinematography, I think the thing that I love most about Rogue One is how nothing needs to be said out loud a lot of the time. Chirrut and Baze step into the plaza and start fighting, Jyn dashes out to save a child and wordessly hands the child off to their mother, they get banged up in Saw’s jail, get Bodhi, board the ship heading to Eadu and that’s it. They’re all a group now. We understand what Bail and Mon Mothma are thinking just by looking at their posture and their facial expressions. Bodhi keeps repeating that he’s the pilot like it’s obvious what he means by that because it is. He’s made a decision. 

There is so much silent communication and so many shared moments in the film. It is really my ideal tbh. A touch on the shoulder, a certain stance, just getting up and walking to where everyone else is standing. Shared understanding, actions speaking louder than words. Resonance. 

#star wars #rogue one

[starfleetsacademy]

― Langston Hughes

Good luck.

I don't need luck. I have you.  

#uff da i'm really in my emotions today ladies #give these two a series i need more content #chirrut imwe #baze malbus #chirrutbaze #rogue one #rogueoneedit #star wars #starwarsedit #autumn talks #also this is so low quality i'm so sorry

[egregiousderp]

Niche writing is reading over a scene where Garazeb Orrelios leans over a table, bantering with Chirrut Îmwe, who’s squeezing his bicep, telling him he feels like a good time, and nostalgically talking about how he hasn’t smelt a lasat since he was a boy, all while Bodhi Rook sweats and gambles their hard-earned smuggling rent money away.

So yes, I guess you could say I like to stare into oblivion a lot at odd hours of the stupidly late night, contemplating all the ways in which I can lose all the new friends I’ve made in the past year. Why? What are you doing with your life?

#personal skuun #skuun writes things #I think I’ve recovered and then my inexplicable need for maximum bantering kicks in and suddenly I have to pay childsupport on a rarepair #Chirrut Îmwe is that cheerful pansexual the Force warned you about. #the continuing legacy of ‘Let Zeb dream of touching tips with other dudes with staves’ #This is why we have a billion edits: the decide if bullshit like this is really worthwhile #and if it is at what point Baze Malbus busts into the bar and starts shooting #fortunately given my update schedule and my generalized state of careening emotions I won’t have to worry about this seeing the light of day #at least not for a while at the absolute worst. #/but I will know it exists #/ffffffffffffffffff

[mosylufanfic]

Baby I’m Not Moving On

Trufax - it took me about a week to write the first 90% of this, and a couple of years to write the last ten percent.

Anyway have some angst and emotional constipation. Title from “Gone Gone Gone” by Phillip Phillips because I fricking love that song.

Baby I'm Not Moving On

The base was sleepy and quiet - not completely, of course, because it was still an Alliance base in the middle of a war. But it was well after midnight local time, Cassian knew, and he'd been up for twenty-some hours himself. Exhaustion dragged at him as he walked through the halls, his go-bag over his shoulder. His feet hesitated before he took the turn into the hallway that ran through the civilian quarters.

Most of them were empty. People who used them were generally only on base for a short period of time before either leaving or enlisting. Jyn was probably the longest-term resident.

"Your quarters are the other direction," Kay said peevishly, chunking along after him.

"It's a shortcut," Cassian said.

"It is approximately fifty meters longer to cut through here."

"It's quieter. Faster."

"There is a ninety-four percent chance that Jyn Erso is asleep at this hour, and a ninety-eight percent chance that she will curse at you if you wake her."

"I know that." He wasn't going to stop and knock on her door, just so he could see her face after a week of being off-planet. She probably would curse him out, and she'd be within her rights, because it was ridiculously late.

He wasn't going to stop.

(But if her light was on -)

He wasn't going to knock.

(Sometimes she had insomnia. Or bad dreams. Or both.)

He wasn't - 

As he neared the end of the hallway, his head automatically turned toward the last door, her door. It sat open. He went still.

"It appears that Jyn Erso is no longer in residence," Kay observed.

He took the last few steps toward it and stopped on the threshold, staring in. 

The bed sat bare, stripped of bedding. The shelves were empty, the desk folded up into the wall. It looked like every other vacant room in the civilians' wing. As if she had never been there at all.

He didn't know how long he stood, the toes of his boots on the line between the darkness in the empty room and the washed-out lights of the corridor. 

Kay said, "Cassian, you should continue on to your quarters. You have duties tomorrow. You are operating at a considerable sleep deficit."

"RIght," Cassian said. "Right."

He turned and continued on his way to his quarters, where he dropped his bag on the floor, kicked off his boots, and dropped face-down on his bunk to sleep for ten hours solid without moving.

*

When he woke up, his body registered its protests at such treatment. He ignored it and lay with his face mashed into his pillow, thinking, Jyn is gone.

He had been waiting for it since she'd opened her eyes in the hospital wing after Scarif. Why would she stay? She'd had a purpose here, for a time - get the plans - and now she didn't. Her father's evil creation had been destroyed. 

He'd read her dossier over and over again. It was spotty and incomplete, not because of poor intelligence work, but because she had moved around so much that holes peppered it like grapeshot. Since the age of sixteen, she'd slid in and out of groups and teams and alliances, usually staying for one or two jobs before she was gone again. It was her pattern; it was how she worked.

Cassian was very good at seeing patterns and predicting behavior from them, and this wasn't even that complex of a pattern.

Jyn Erso was somebody who needed a purpose, and after all it had done to her, Cassian felt sure that the Rebel Alliance wasn't going to fit the bill. She wasn't part of their fight. She'd been snared like a fish, kidnapped out of prison, hauled all over hell's half-quadrant, made to confront every screaming ghost of her past all at once. Why would she stay?

But she had. 

She hadn't gone with Baze and Chirrut when they'd left. She'd evacuated Yavin with the Rebellion, come to this temporary base with them. He kept asking himself why, and the only answer he could come up with was one he was afraid to believe in, because it didn't fit her pattern. So he prepared himself for the inevitable.

Every day had been the day he was sure he would see her packing up a bag (probably with things she'd lifted, or talked out of the quartermaster) or see her name on a transport list, or just see the empty space where she wasn't. 

Somehow, she was still here. But every day that passed made him more sure that the next day, she would be gone.

He had been gone for a week himself - a short recon to get his feet wet after his injuries from Scarif. While he had done the job, Jyn had sat in the back of his mind like a stone. She would be gone when he got back, he'd told himself in quiet moments. She was certain to be gone when he got back. 

And she was.

The stone had migrated into his chest, hard and cold, beating out, gone gone gone.

He peeled himself out of bed, shed his clothes like too-tight snakeskin. He stood in the shower - a water shower, a small luxury due to this planet and his rank - resting his head against the plastic wall. Water beat against his back as he taught himself how to breathe around the stone, learning how it shifted and rolled when he moved.

At least it was done, he told himself. At least he didn't have to dread it anymore. At least now he knew how bad it would be. That was the worst part of any injury, that first shock of pain before you knew how bad it was going to be. After you knew that, you could focus on getting through it.

He thought of how he would glance across the room from now on and not catch her eye, and the stone lurched and choked him. He shut his eyes and breathed some more.

Out of the shower, drying off, putting on clothes, unpacking his go-bag. He focused tightly on what he was doing, not allowing himself to think. 

He checked his datapad for messages, sifting through base chatter and announcements. Kay had reported to the droid center for maintenance and repairs. He had a meeting with Draven in two hours. That seemed right. He'd sent a brief, encrypted report once he was out of Imperial space, and this was just to fill in. It hadn't been high-priority, his recon, and nothing he'd seen would change that. 

He wasn't actually hungry, but given that he hadn't eaten anything more substantial than half a ration bar in at least a day, he decided he should go to the canteen. They'd be serving lunch now, anyway. He should start getting used to seeing the empty space next to Bodhi.

The canteen was crowded and noisy, and he slid silently through the packed bodies, the close-set tables, letting the din wash over him like waves on the beach. 

"Cassian!" Bodhi called out, bringing his head around. He was getting used to that, now - Bodhi just yelling for him, saying his name right out loud like that. 

And there, in the space next to Bodhi, the space that was supposed to be empty, Jyn lifted her head and looked at him.

Every nerve in his body lit up with alarm. Adrenaline dumped into his system, fight or flight pricking at his toes. Like he'd been caught out, like his cover was an inch from blowing, like -

Like the wound that he thought he'd understood was about to be torn open, even deeper.

He turned around and walked out.

*

He came back to himself three halls away from the canteen. She was here. Jyn was still here. All that preparation he'd done, everything, it was for nothing, because she was still here.

The stone had cracked open and it was all hot lava on the inside, searing his lungs, making it hard to breathe.

Why wasn't she gone?

He walked back, careful and slow, breathing the adrenaline out of his system. His fingers were still shaking when he walked back into the canteen, but he could blame that on low blood sugar.

Bodhi was still at the table. Jyn was gone.

For a moment, he thought maybe he'd hallucinated her being there in the first place. That she really was gone, like he'd known she would be, like he'd been forcing himself to accept - 

Then Bodhi said, "Jyn took off. Said she wasn't hungry anymore."

Cassian looked at the half-empty plate next to Bodhi. Jyn ate like a starving lothcat. He'd never seen her leave food behind.

He said, "Oh."

"What was that?" Bodhi wanted to know.

"I forgot something," he muttered. "In my room."

Bodhi looked at him for a moment or two, then shook his head. "I don't know why I thought a spy would be a better liar."

Cassian didn't bother glaring. He went to the food line, collected a plate, returned to the table, and ate, forcing the food down his throat, answering or deflecting Bodhi as needed. 

"She probably went to hit things, in case you want to apologize," Bodhi said with tremendous pointedness.

"Since when are you the expert on - " Love, he was about to say, and bit it back. "On us?"

On consideration, us wasn't much better than love.

"I've had to watch you pushing her away ever since Scarif," Bodhi growled. "And then just when I think she's going to say the hell with you, you'll look at her like she's the air you breathe."

"You're a poet," Cassian said dryly, feeling heat crawl up his neck.

The air you breathe?

He hadn't thought he was that obvious.

Pushing her away?

He wasn't doing that. She was the one who -

Wasn't she?

"Why is she here?"

"If you honestly don't know, I'm not the one to ask."

Cassian picked up his plate.

"Where are you going?"

"Away," he said flatly, heading for the recycler.

"To talk to Jyn?" Bodhi yelled after him, and Cassian flinched. He was really going to have to do something about that yelling habit of his.

*

He tried three different rooms in the practice wing before he found the one she'd commandeered. He knew she heard the almost noiseless swish of the door, but she just kept at her practice, fists thudding rhythmically into the heavy practice bag, in time with the grunts that leaked out through her clenched teeth.

She'd changed out of her usual clothes into shorts and a loose sleeveless top. The hair that usually fell loose and shaggy around her face was held back by an elastic band. A fine sheen of sweat delineated her hairline and the cords of her throat. A few stray strands stuck to her skin.

She was eating better, more regularly. Her face was a little rounder these days. The lines of her body were softer, the muscles in her arms and legs thickening. She no longer looked quite so much as if she was made solely of wires, yanked taut to the snapping point.  

She still had that feral look to her eyes, though. He wondered if it would ever fade, and thought not.

His hand, on the jamb of the door, clenched into a fist. Something like yearning opened up in his stomach, gaping wide, hungry, desperate.

He breathed through it until the fist loosened, until the pit in his stomach quieted. Then he moved out of the doorway. He paused a moment to remove his boots and socks before he stepped onto the mat, his feet sinking into the padding, squeaking slightly on the plastic.

He moved around her, to the other side of the bag. She paused, finally, and glared at him. "Something you want to say, Captain?"

Her hands were wrapped, but not particularly well, and the gaps exposed reddened skin across her knuckles. He wanted to re-wrap them for her. Given the look in her eye, though, and the way she'd been assaulting that still-swaying bag, she'd probably use the wraps to strangle him.

He caught the bag, stilled it, and opened his mouth. What came out was, "Why aren't you gone yet?"

Her eyes blazed up for a moment. "You want me gone?" 

No swelled up in his throat. He swallowed it. 

She slammed her fist into the bag, and the shock rattled up his arms into his shoulders. It shook words loose.

"It doesn't matter what I want." You. Here. Being able to depend on seeing you every day. Being able to make plans, have hopes, think for once about something besides right now - "Your pattern is clear."

Another hit that almost knocked him back a step, even with the heavy bag taking the brunt of it. "My pattern," she said. "Tell me about my pattern, go on."

"You've been here two months. It's past time."

She dropped back, rolling her shoulders, and threw an elbow at the bag that would have broken an opponent's nose.

"Two months is all you've known me. What kind of pattern can you work out from that?"

"I've memorized your dossier," he flung back. "It was much longer than two months. You're never part of any group, not really. You come in, you do a job, and you leave. The only question is when."

"When I'll leave," she said. "Well. That depends. What do they do to deserters?"

His hands slid off the sides of the bag and he said dumbly, "Deserters?"

That was a mistake. She gave it a mighty kick with the full force of her left leg. It swung back and  knocked him full-length and gasping on the floor.

She glared down at him. "I enlisted, you gundark!"

Cassian had gotten up from harder hits than that, but he stayed on the mat, blinking, trying to get his breath back. She shifted her weight, her eyebrows softening. "Cassian?"

She padded closer. "Cassian," she said. "It wasn't that - oof!"

He'd lunged up, hooked a hand around her knee, and yanked her off-balance. True to her nature, she turned the fall into an attack, her shoulder driving hard into his abdomen. He let out another grunt, but rolled and flung her to one side. She twisted and landed on her knees, let the momentum keep rolling her around until she crouched on her feet, teeth bared.

He was up on one knee, bracing his hand against the mat.

They considered each other for a moment.

"You enlisted," he said. "In the Rebel Alliance?"

"No," she growled, "in the All-Coruscant Marching Band - yes, in the Rebel Alliance!" 

She launched herself at him, and he blocked instinctively, flipping her over his back to the mat. She'd barely made contact before her knee knifed up, missing a fairly sensitive area by spy's luck. They grappled briefly, tangled around each other, their faces an inch apart, breath hot on each other's faces, before she broke his hold and heaved with both legs.

He went skidding across the mat and rolled to his feet in time to duck her swing. 

She was a brawler by nature, relying on speed and ferocity to take down her opponents. But her hits were more focused now, and she was more balanced than she had been. 

She'd been training with someone who was teaching her hand-to-hand, smoothing out her sloppy raw power into something more targeted and refined.

She’d been training, he thought, and wanted to laugh.

She feinted right, and of course he fell for it. After a breathless tumble to the mat, he found himself pinned, her hands manacling his wrists, her knees caging his hips. It was an absurdly easy hold to break. He could have demonstrated four or five ways in his sleep. 

He stayed where he was, laid out in front of her.

A few strands of hair had escaped her headband and hung in her face, fluttering with their breath. Their hearts thundered against each other.

"I enlisted," she said, her face a few inches away from his. "You're stuck with me."

He swallowed. The motion moved through his chest freely, no stone to block its way. "Good," he said. 

"Good," she said. "After all that? That's what you have to say about it?"

An instant of increased pressure against his wrists, and then she'd pushed herself up, let him go. She sat back on her heels, still straddling his legs, but sitting on his thighs rather than hovering over his waist. He propped himself up on his elbows, watching her intently.

She met his eyes, a challenge in hers. 

"Bodhi says I've been pushing you away," he said. "Have I?"

Her eyes slid to the side. "Bodhi says a lot of things."

"What does he say to you?"

She swallowed. He watched it move down her sweat-shining throat. "That I needed to either enlist or leave."

"Is that why you hung around? You were trying to decide?"

"You said it yourself. I'm not a joiner. I don't go in for uniforms and ranks. But I - " She looked away a moment. "I wanted to stay."

"Don't stay for me," he said. "If that's why."

Her head came back around. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why not?"

He swallowed. "Because - I - "

Her cheeks, already flushed, went a duller red. She pushed herself to her feet. "You're not making sense, Captain. First you say Good and now don't stay and would you make up your mind?"

He got up, too. "Jyn, I didn't mean - I - " He'd lifted his hand to her arm without knowing it.

"You grab me and I'll break your hand off," she warned.

He dropped his hand and let the words fall out of his mouth in an ungraceful heap. "If you're only staying for me, when I mess it up, you'll go."

Her mouth fell open. She shut her eyes a moment, then shut her mouth and nodded. "That's - yes. I get that."

Did she? His cheeks burned.

She opened her eyes again. "But you said welcome home."

"I did, but - "

"You said you were with me 'til the end."

"Yes, I - "

"Why would I leave after that? Why would you think so?"

"Jyn," he said softly. "You never said it back."

Her mouth fell a little open. "I didn't know you needed to hear it."

He let out a huff of breath - a laugh, maybe. "Neither did I."

She tipped her head back and looked up at the ceiling, as if she couldn't say this and look at him at the same time. "I enlisted because since I met you, I remembered what it was like to be part of something. Not a military. A group. A cause." 

He always used silence in his work, letting people fill it themselves instead of prying it out of them. Instinctively, he stayed quiet. 

“And if I have to put up with a uniform and a rank to be part of something, well, I'll get used to it, I guess."

"You don't have to worry too much about that," he said. "The Pathfinders don't care too much about ranks or uniforms either."

Her mouth fell open. "How the hell did you know that?"

He gestured at her. "The way you fought. Dameron's been training you, hasn't he?"

"Yeah, all right," she said. "Caught me."

"Before or after you enlisted?"

"Before. He told me about the Pathfinders. I thought, well, hell, I can do that."

"Yes, you can."

"I can do that and stay," she said. "That's what I thought. It's a place for me."

He could have said, There's always been a place for you here, but he didn't. Because she didn't need a place that was held for her, given by the goodwill and grace of others. Goodwill and grace were tenuous, unpredictable things. She needed a place that she made for herself.

She wasn’t staying for him, and he felt his entire body relax. Even if he messed this up, she would stay, not run, and he might have a chance to fix it.

"Stay is a relative term," he said instead. "The Pathfinders are out in the stars almost as much as Intelligence."

She shrugged one shoulder and wiped her forehead free of trickling sweat with her forearm. "A place to come back to, then," she said. "That's not a thing I've had much. Ever, really."

Her pattern, he thought. Of course she hadn't stayed anywhere. She'd never had a reason.

She wiped her face again. “You’ve been waiting for me to run? That’s why you - ”

Why he’d held himself away from her. Careful space between them. Trying to save himself.

“Yes,” he told her.

There was no saving him and never had been.

"But I had the pattern wrong." He'd been looking at it wrong because he'd been afraid to look at it right. Because it was easier to brace for losing her than it was to think she might be a part of his life. "And I was afraid. That I - “ He put out his hand again, and this time she allowed him to touch her, his hand curved around her upper arm. “That I could belong with someone.”

She didn't ask why he'd been afraid of something good. She knew. 

“You belong to the Rebellion," she said. 

And so did she, now. 

“It’s a very big thing to belong to. It’s easy to lose yourself in it.” Her skin was warm under his, flushed with the exercise. 

She pulled away and for a moment he was cut loose, spinning in space. But then she took his hands in her wrapped ones, both of them, anchoring him firmly once again.

"I didn't know you were back," she said. "Not until you walked in the canteen, saw me, and took off like you'd run into one of Kay's nastier brothers."

"I got back last night," he said. "Late. I - " He swallowed. "I took a shortcut through the civilian quarters.”

She raised a brow. "That's not a shortcut. That's longer."

"You were gone," he said. "Your room - you were gone."

Understanding moved over her face like a sunrise. Her hands tightened around his. "I'm not gone," she said.

He let himself soak in that. 

She looked shy for a moment, and then covered it up with bravado, pushing her face up close to his until their noses brushed. “Are you going to kiss me, Cassian Andor, or am I going to have to do everything myself?”

It made him laugh, and the laugh was still on his lips when he pressed them to hers.

FINIS

#Cassian Andor #Jyn Erso #rebelcaptain #fanfiction #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #I LIVE #and I still ship these two idiots #star wars

[skinks]

you see the thing is. when Baze turned and walked into gunfire because Chirrut was dead, that’s the same thing that rewired my brain as when Richie had to be held back from rushing back into the collapsing Neibolt because Eddie was dead, in there, without Richie, and it’s the same thing as when Eli Whipp said he was looking forward to spending the rest of his and Cornelia’s life watching her get old even though they couldn’t live together at all because she was dying, wasting, and it would mean his death too - the thing is. they put so much effort into the development of the character arcs in this damn mecha space marines game to the point that the entire emotional climax of the game hinges on the fact that Cooper is willing to go to his death if it means he doesn’t abandon BT. I’m not going anywhere, he says. he’d rather die than lose BT, but BT would rather lose Jack and lose himself than let Jack die. and so you see why I need to be shot with a tranquilliser dart

[thebirdandhersong]

WIP folder meme :)

Thank you @isfjmel-phleg​ and @fictionadventurer​ for tagging me!! I don’t have everything in one place (it is a Huge mess at the moment) but here is a list of the main projects I’ve added notes to/thought extensively about over the past year:

ORIGINAL WORK/NOVELS (sadly most of them ARE untitled):

Project 1 (tentatively titled Garden of Dreams): about the kindness of strangers, finding joy again, the coming of spring

Project 2: a loose Snow Queen retelling in an original fairy tale fantasy world

Project 3: hero training academy in a post-war world where dragons and monsters are no longer the main threat; the kids who join the school must save the world by learning to take care of the earth and the people in it

Project 4: in an Southeast Asian-inspired country, a young girl from the countryside is forced into marrying the self-absorbed crown prince and decides to use the new power she has as the new queen to be kind and to do good

Project 5: a girl and her grandmother embark on a journey to defeat a returning evil

FILM/SHOW ADAPTATIONS:

Anne of the Island (miniseries)

Little Women, with more of an emphasis on the girls’ moral and character development: equal attention paid to all four sisters (in particular: Meg’s post-marriage joys and sorrows, Beth’s personality and her interactions with her sisters)

Mansfield Park, but you get more of Fanny’s perspective: things that she sees and observes (people’s behaviour and physical cues, nature, things that enchant her)--brief internal narration/monologues when she’s mulling over something beautiful or distressing, highlighting her social anxiety and shyness but also her emotional intelligence and the clarity of how she discerns right and wrong; we are Not making excuses for Mr. Crawford, OH and many things communicated visually (Fanny wears muted colours, whereas the other characters are dressed in brighter--sometimes even garishly bright--clothes)

THINGS I LIKE TO THINK ABOUT WHEN I DON’T HAVE ENOUGH ENERGY TO WORK ON ACTUAL PROJECTS

Star Wars sequel trilogy rewritten with All my bizarre ideas (including--please don’t laugh, this is a writing exercise I use for self-indulgence--friendship between Rose and Ben, Rey’s parents were part of the Resistance and were ordinary people fighting for what they believed in, Ben has a prodigal son storyline, Leia and Han are still together but they work on different bases, Finn is a storm trooper for MUCH longer and has killed as a storm trooper--when he returns undercover to start a storm trooper revolt he tells his old friends and colleagues that it isn’t too late to choose the right thing. There is No Chosen One, only ordinary people who choose to do the right thing (Rogue One style). Rey and Finn are both Force-sensitive;  the story is about: 1) identity and belonging (Rey/Finn/Poe/Rose/Ben all ache for love and acceptance in their character arcs, all of them find that. Also none of them die, thanks), 2) personal responsibility and agency (Finn’s decision to give up the life of a storm trooper, Rey deciding to fight for the Resistance not because of her parents’ choices but out of her own volition, Rose choosing to forgive Ben even though he plays a larger role in my version in Paige’s death). Everyone is guilty of sin (Finn’s actions while he was a storm trooper, Rose holds deep hatred towards the people responsible for her sister’s death, Ben’s reason for turning to the Dark Side involved murdering his twin--I don’t know much about the Thrawn trilogy but I thought it was interesting how there are multiple sets of twins in the Skywalker family. In my version, Ben is responsible for the death of his twin sister when they’re both very young) and learns the full weight of consequences and of the freedom that grace and forgiveness and love gives them. Also I really like the idea of Rey, Finn, and Ben fighting off Main Bad Guy together at the climax of the third movie. He’s defeated by Rey (an ordinary girl, no Skywalker or Palpatine legacy attached), Finn (one of his former lackeys, who has turned to the other side, and is training to become a Jedi), and Ben (his former apprentice, who has returned to the side of light). Main theme: choosing love over hatred, kindness over cruelty, forgiveness over revenge

Rogue One modern AU where Cassian works at a bakery with his friend Kay. Jyn runs a book shop during the day and offers her services as a mechanic after hours. He makes cupcakes for themed events at her shop. Bodhi is her adopted brother. Chirrut and Baze were their professors in university, as well as old family friends, and they get first dibs on new releases at Jyn’s shop.

Agents of SHIELD but in the A:TLA universe; the Avatar cycle was interrupted, and Cal unwittingly helped Jiaying ‘create’ a new Avatar through extensive experimentation (Daisy is the ‘new’ Avatar, though her powers aren’t activated until later on. She has to deal with new strains of bending and mutations her parents made: Ward can shadowbend, for example)

the characters in Shadow and Bone but in Bayern

this one story I wrote in ninth grade: post-Civil War, Bucky is taken to the Avengers Tower to recuperate and becomes friends with everyone

Tagging @called-kept, @magpie-trove, @imissthembutitwasntadisaster, @madamescarlette if you would like to!!!

#i got a little carried away at the end slfjskl;djk ; #that's because i HAVE given the star wars idea much more thought than necessary. i have around eight pages of notes for that one #thank you for tagging me! :D #songbird and stories

[kriffingdameron]

finally watched rogue one and uhhhh

1. i immediately became a whore for cassian andor (literally no one is surprised)

2. i lost it when i saw bail organa

3. the scream i let out when bail and mon motha vaguely mention obi-wan and leia?

4. did i mention cassian?

5. the citadel looks SO weird in daylight

6. my brother and i both screamed our heads off when artoo and threepio popped up

7. K2 with a blaster? threepio wishes he could

8. did i mention cassian…in that imperial uniform

8. chirrut and baze were 100% husbands

9. i knew what was going to happen and still…

10. LEIA 😭😭

11. well this triggered the emotional breakdown i’ve been repressing for three weeks cool cool cool

12.this movie was infinitely better than i expected and i will be crying forever

#rogue one