#they copied jyns story

[jynjackets]

the smallest possibility of Rogue One getting How I Met Your Mother’ed will be the reason I end up on the news

[ragedagainst]

i don't think i've talked about this in-depth here but the main reason why my portrayal is canon divergent from re.bel rising (jyn's backstory novel) is that it truly doesn't fit the jyn we see in the movie and novelization. jyn is a dark, gritty sort of protagonist and her backstory should reflect that. however, what we got is a ya novel filled with tropes that sorta minimizes the amount of trauma she went through. she was a fucking child soldier and the novel just. almost brushes that off like it didn't affect her in the slightest. it should have had the same tone that the an.dor show had. honestly i wish someone would rewrite it and make it an adult novel because it really does her character a disservice and reduces her down your average ya protagonist

[padfootagain]

Hello everyone! It’s still hard to believe that I’ve hit 6k followers this month! I can’t believe there are so many of you interested in my silly little stories!!

In order to celebrate, I’ve asked you what kind of event you wanted, and you’ve voted for the tropes/AU event! So, here we go! I’m going to use the same prompts as a previous event, as I prepared a pretty thorough prompt list already.

I hope you have fun during this event!

Carole, what is all this new mess now?

The idea is simple: you can make a request for a character I write for (the list of characters is under the cut) by choosing a prompt in the lists that are (also) under the cut. You can add specific details if you have a more precise idea (but please, remember that I do not write nsfw content). In the coming weeks, I’ll write all your requests! I will accept a maximum of 15 requests, or as many requests as I will have received in the next 72 hours, depending on how many requests are submitted! The requests for this event will thus be open between today (August 14 2023) and Thursday (August 17 2023).

How can we request a fic?

You can request a fic by sending me a message through my inbox. I will not accept requests sent through private messages because it is very difficult for me to keep track of them that way. You can, however, request a fic on or off anon. So, if you’re a little shy, don’t hesitate to send me an anonymous ask!

You must choose a character in the list under the cut, for whom I will write a one-shot using the prompt you have chosen (the list is also under the cut). You can write down only the letter/number corresponding to the prompt you’ve chosen instead of copying them in full if it’s easier for you. You can choose an AU or a trope or an AU and a trope. You can also add whether you would prefer some fluff, angst or hurt/comfort.

You can include additional details if you have a specific idea and want to see it included in the fic ; however, I can reject a request if I don’t feel comfortable with the details you’ve added.

Your request must thus include :

A character from the list below

A prompt from the list below

The combinations for the prompts can be :

An AU only

A trope only

An AU + a trope

For example, you can request :

Caspian, modern AU

OR Caspian, Friends to lovers

OR Caspian, modern AU, Friends to lovers

If you have any questions regarding the event, don’t hesitate to ask me! Also, a little nice word in the request is always nice, don’t forget to at least say ‘hi’ :)

I hope you have fun with this event! I can’t wait to see the combinations you will choose!

Thank you all for your support! Have a lovely day! :)

Characters :

Ben Barnes

Caspian

Ryan Brenner

Logan Delos

Sam Adams (Ben Barnes’s character)

The Darkling

Sirius Black

Blackinnon

Wolfstar

Remus Lupin

Jily

Poe Dameron

Cassian Andor

Jyn Erso

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Ahsoka Tano

AUs :

Modern AU

Florist/ tattoo artist AU

Soulmates AU

Neighbours AU

Roommates AU

Historical AU

Professor AU

Bookshop or library AU

Bodyguard AU

Coffeeshop AU

College AU

Painter or artist AU

Royalty AU

Coworkers AU

Parents AU

Tropes :

Only one bed

Road trip

Caught in a snowstorm

Friends to lovers

Mutual pinning

Enemies to lovers

Idiots in love

Angry love confession

Established relationship

Drunken confession

Wounded character leads to confession

Rivals to lovers

Fake dating

Secret dating 

Arranged marriage

Domestic bliss

Jealousy angst with a happy ending

Poorly-timed confession

Friends with benefits to lovers

Forbidden love

Highly romantic dance scene

Oh… oh no…

Wrong time to right time

"I'm not good enough for you."

Miscommunication

Heard the confession spoken when the other thought they were asleep

Arranged date

Almost kissing

Kissing under the rain

"Please, don't leave…"

******************************

Tagging a few people who might be interested (aka people in the taglist...) : @wolfbrideinhiding @sergeantbuckybarnes @wolfmoonmusic @reg-arcturus-black @idek-what-to-put @kpicard @rhapsodyonthethames @intothesoul @pat-sirius @rockintensse @budugu @sayumiht @hells-escapees @omgrachwrites @cloudbroomblog

[queereads-bracket]

Queer Fantasy Books Bracket: Round 1

Book summaries below (and bonus article by Sascha Stronach):

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

Greece in the age of heroes. Patroclus, an awkward young prince, has been exiled to the court of King Peleus and his perfect son Achilles. By all rights their paths should never cross, but Achilles takes the shamed prince as his friend, and as they grow into young men skilled in the arts of war and medicine their bond blossoms into something deeper - despite the displeasure of Achilles' mother Thetis, a cruel sea goddess. But then word comes that Helen of Sparta has been kidnapped. Torn between love and fear for his friend, Patroclus journeys with Achilles to Troy, little knowing that the years that follow will test everything they hold dear. Profoundly moving and breathtakingly original, this rendering of the epic Trojan War is a dazzling feat of the imagination, a devastating love story, and an almighty battle between gods and kings, peace and glory, immortal fame and the human heart. Fantasy, historical fiction, mythology, retelling, romance, adult

The Dawnhounds by Sascha Stronach (The Endsong series)

A police officer is murdered, brought back to life with a mysterious new power, and tasked with protecting her city from an insidious evil threatening to destroy it. The port city of Hainak is alive: its buildings, its fashion, even its weapons. But, after a devastating war and a sweeping biotech revolution, all its inhabitants want is peace, no one more so than Yat Jyn-Hok a reformed-thief-turned-cop who patrols the streets at night. Yat has recently been demoted on the force due to “lifestyle choices” after being caught at a gay club. She’s barely holding it together, haunted by memories of a lover who vanished and voices that float in and out of her head like radio signals. When she stumbles across a dead body on her patrol, two fellow officers gruesomely murder her and dump her into the harbor. Unfortunately for them, she wakes up. Resurrected by an ancient power, she finds herself with the new ability to manipulate life force. Quickly falling in with the pirate crew who has found her, she must race against time to stop a plague from being unleashed by the evil that has taken root in Hainak. Fantasy, science fiction, biopunk, adult, Māori-inspired*

*Additional context: I also want to share this article by Sascha Stronach that was posted earlier this week (literally perfect timing). Especially since I'm including words from the marketing copy like "Māori-inspired" on the polls in the hopes that it helps readers find their new thing, it felt important to add the author's own words on the difficulties of working with US-based publishers and the power they exert over the process

[jeckilon]

when it was jyn stans pointing obvious copies parallels to her story with cassian people got super mad but when it’s these people trying to shoehorn their fav into everything from a movie that existed years before she was even imagined it’s okay 😍

[sillypinkboy]

Brass Knuckles - Chapter 1: A dying breed

Charcters: Jason Todd, Joker

Word Count: 706

Notes: hi! This fic is a take on Jason's Canon death through the lense of a wrestler story line. There's descriptions of violence through the first half, and talk of pain for the second. Take this as your warning!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Breathing is important to the fight. If you can’t control at least that, you’re stuck. That’s what was running through Jason’s head the moment the chain came crashing against his back.

The blow hurt like hell fire itself - the air escaped him and he’s pretty sure the world went white for a moment.

He had to move out of the way, he knew staying still would get him killed. He rolls.

He’s met with a kick. A yelp escapes, a laugh meets it. Leather chokes him as the collar is tugged on.

He wonders where the ref is.

Instinct hits.

Move towards the ropes, just pull to the side. Pull at the hand.

There’s a sickening snap - one only he and his opponent hear.

It got quiet.

The metal scrapes canvas. Jason tries to pull himself up. Metal hits his shoulder. He screams loud enough, cameras pick the noise up.

Tap out. Tap out. Tap out.

He knows he can’t handle it more, blood runs into his eyes as he tries to look at his maker. To show he isn’t afraid.

That smile makes it through.

It’s way too cheery for his death day. Wasn’t he supposed to be better at this?

Bruce’s voice echoes in the back of his head.

“Never act if you don’t know what will happen.” What was he supposed to do?

He grabs at the legs and pulls.

A solid thunk meets his ears. A chance to breathe.

He whips blood off his brow, a useless attempt to clear his sight.

He takes the opportunity to pin the other down.

It’s turned on him.

He knows this is a show, why is he panicking?

The collar is pulled again. Jason tries to copy, to grab at what he can.

He claws at exposed skin. The blood trails back into his eyes.

His head hits the mat hard.

The weight on his chest leaves, for a moment.

He tries to use the opportunity to attack. The moment he moves he feels himself choking.

His vision blurs more.

Fuck, is really about to lose this?

The bell sounds. Medical is lifting him up.

Both took a beating, he knows that. He attempts to tell them he’s got it, but the attempt is in vain.

Everything hurts by the time he’s in the lockers again. The handful of painkillers don’t seem to be helping fast enough. He wouldn’t say anything, of course. It was a hassle to even get here without medical next to him.

Jason’s entire weight holds against the lockers. He feels way too lightheaded to be up, but it’s more embarrassing to go to the hospital. Well, at least to him. The idea of explaining that he was there because he got beaten by a grade 80 chain for work was worse than whatever he could go through.

The pain only got worse as he fully came off his adrenaline high.

Maybe the hospital would be his best option. The money wouldn’t be much of an issue, since the company paid for his medical bills, but still. He didn’t like the place and avoided it when he could.

“Fuck,” he groans as he holds his wadded up shirt between his hands.

By the time Jason left the building, the pain killers had kicked in. Never in his life did he realize how thankful he was for those little things.

He had also made arrangements for Jyn to stay with Roy for the night, so he could try to gather himself before she got home. According to his friend, she was fine with that.

The last thing he had to figure out was a ride home. A cab would be his best bet, but he was worried about falling asleep in a stranger’s car. He was still lightheaded and feared of losing consciousness again.

A member of security gave him a lift. Jay couldn’t remember his name for his life but, he was nice.

He made it back to his apartment in one piece. Thanking the gods for it, he went straight to bed.

Everything else would be a morning issue. He just needed to rest until he felt slightly better. Until he could take care of himself without feeling like death.

[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).

[mosylufanfic]

For the Get to know your fic writer! prompt:

2, 10 (I love this prompt), & 21 because I'm shameless <3

2. Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

I have a general (VERY general) idea of what needs to happen in each chapter, but sometimes it gets away from me and splits into multiples.

10. Cltr+f "blinks" on your WIP & copy paste the first sentence/paragraph that comes up

I had to take off the s to make it work but here: The car stopped, and Jyn blinked back to the present.

and from the other one I'm poking at right now: "Strong stuff," he said, blinking hard as if his eyes were watering.

21. Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story?

Oh man, I'm such a control freak that I think the only way it could work would be to swap off/assign chapters or viewpoints or storylines or something so that I knew very clearly what I had to work on and what I had to keep my mitts off.

For instance, I had an idea where Cassian went to a family celebration as Vel's beard and falls hard for Vel's black sheep cousin Jyn, while Vel is falling for Cinta but trying desperately not to show it because see above re: beard and of course, terrible family. I would love to write the rebelcap half of that while a hardcore Velcinta shipper writes their story.

Ask Game

[ao3feed-rebelcaptain2]

On Our Own Two Feet

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/6qCWIsV

by Niitza

The droids looked at Cassian, then at one another. A short silence followed.

“K-K2S-SO,” Bee said eventually, his voice flat between hiccups.

“B2EMO,” K2SO said slowly in return.

Later on, Bix realized that this was when she should’ve thought, Uh oh.

-

  This story is complete and will update every few days until all chapters are posted.

Words: 3174, Chapters: 1/11, Language: English

Fandoms: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Andor (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, Gen

Characters: Bix Caleen, Cassian Andor, K-2SO (Star Wars), Brasso the Ferrixian (Star Wars), B2EMO | Bee (Star Wars), Jyn Erso

Relationships: Cassian Andor & Bix Caleen, Cassian Andor & Brasso the Ferrixian, Cassian Andor & B2EMO | Bee, Cassian Andor & K-2SO, Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Post-Canon, Reunion, Recovery, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Angst, Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Don't copy to another site, POV Bix Caleen

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/6qCWIsV

[microsuedemouse]

tagged by @womanaction!!! I love a tag!!!

1. three ships: oh my god. just three? okay well… in the last few days or so. I have thought about. Jyn Erso/Cassian Andor from Rogue One bc god do I love their Doomed Chemistry. Aki Hayakawa/Himeno from Chainsaw Man bc I was catching up on the anime last night and their history and connection is definitely not healthy but golly does it compel me. and uhhh. oh. Annie Edison/Abed Nadir bc I was feeling STUPID squishy a few days ago and wanted to revisit one of my favourite soft ships.

2. first ship ever: oh christ. I’ve been getting too invested in fictional couples since long before I ever knew about fandom. since before I can even remember. uh. if I reach back as far as I can in my brain, I think the earliest ship I can recall caring about is… hm. well. I remember being a small child and thinking that Ord and Cassie from Dragon Tales should fall in love? so.

that said I also grew up on Disney movies and got invested in the romances in those too. so who’s to say. what I know for sure is that I’ve been unbearably romantic literally from toddlerhood; my parents can confirm.

3. currently listening: been back on my non-stop Motion City Soundtrack bullshit for a few days. tho I’m also really enjoying the latest single from Blanks! it’s called Breathe In Breathe Out and it’s very. relevant. at the moment.

4. last movie: a couple nights ago I went to a local film festival screening bc my friend had an entry in the shorts section (she won best short film btw!!!) and the feature film they played that night was a local indie horror called SHIFTED, released last year. it fucked. I bought a copy of the movie and a poster, and two of the actors signed it for me! one of the other actors followed me on ig tonight also lol? (after I put a pic of the poster in my story and tagged the studio.) anyway I hope they score some kind of wide release bc I think more people should get to enjoy it

5. currently reading: HORRORSTÖR by Grady Hendrix. it’s been on my wishlist for years, and Hendrix just put out another new book I rly wanna read, so to prevent myself from spending the money on an expensive newly-released book, I bought a less-expensive several-years-old book. I make very good budget decisions. (I’m really enjoying it so far.)

6. currently watching: aheh. well. on my own I’m still working my way through Hawaii Five-0 (2010). with Mo I’m, uh, rewatching Angel, as well as following Chainsaw Man, To Your Eternity, SPY x FAMILY, and BNHA. our Ben 10 and Darker than Black watches have been on the backburner for a good while now but are technically still ongoing. we’re also following MP100 with Corwin. I… think that’s everything?

7. currently consuming: nothing right this moment but I think I’m gonna go downstairs and get my baguette out of the fridge. I want Bread

8. currently craving: human connection???? lmfao it sounds like I’m goofing but ngl I really need to spend more time with people. I love my family so much but I cannot carry on much longer with them being the Only People I spend leisure time with. oof. how are new friends made

okay I’m supposed to tag nine people I ~want to get to know better~ but I really don’t have that many folks TO tag. so uh. @izupie @silluuuu @karis-the-fangirl you can each pretend to be three people right? 8)

[melyzard]

All of the congratulations on your new assignment! You rock on and offline! I have two quotes for you to choose from as I can never make up my mind. 1) "The reason of my waking mind tells me that great evil has befallen and we stand at the end of days. But my heart says nay; and all my limbs are light, and a hope and joy are come to me that no reason can deny." 2) "The future disappears into memory / With only a moment between / Forever dwells in that moment / Hope is what remains to be seen"

(Thank you! I’m also going to pitch this one towards @crazy-fruit, because I promised her 1000 words for 1 hour of studying and here’s a bit more than 2k, complete with references to sewing, and OC that she likes, and of course, pining. For your prompt, I chosethe first quote, because Eowyn and Faramir? That’s my eternal jam! I mean, comeon – “in this hour I do not believe that any darkness will endure,” ugh, what a good line. So I re-read thatpassage in the Return of the King, when they are standing on the walls of MinasTirith, injured and tired and afraid, waiting to see if the darkness will fallbefore their allies’ efforts or rise to destroy them all…)

He finds her on the roof, just over the hangar doors thatgape at the Temple’s base. She’s far back enough from the edge that she cannotbe seen from the ground, partially hidden by the shadow cast by the upper layers,and wedged between two old, crumbling pillars. It’s the exact spot he wouldhave chosen, a perfect sniper’s nest with plenty of visibility from her pointof view but with almost no access, protected on all sides and hard to spot. Insteadof laying stretched out with a rifle, however, she’s leaning against the largerpillar, her arms folded around her middle and her face tilted up to the curveof Yavin, far above.

Briefly, Cassian wonders why the Death Star doesn’t justblast the gas giant itself rather than wait the twenty minutes or so left to geta clear line of sight on the base – wouldn’t destroying the planet take out allit’s moons, too? – but mostly, he finds himself concerned with the raggedremains of Jyn’s shirt. It’s the same shirt she wore on Wobani, the same oneshe wore throughout their month-long insane dash around the galaxy, the sameone she wore on Scarif. It’s worn so thin in places that he can almost see herskin through the fabric, there are at least three carefully darned tears thathe’s noted, and on her left side, the faded brown remnants of a large bloodstain. Absently, Cassian rubs a hand across his right side, where newly-graftedskin itches around the memory of her body pressed against him.

He can’t do a thing about the Death Star, or the patheticremnants of the Fleet that are even now desperately throwing themselves againstit, or the slow burning rage in Leia Organa’s eyes every time someone barely stopsthemselves from whispering ‘just likeAlderaan’ in her hearing. He can’t do a damn thing about any of it, infact, most of his energy went into just climbing up here, looking for his –looking for Jyn. It’s the winter season on Yavin IV, which is still relativelybalmy, of course, but means that cool winds tend to buffet these higher levels ofthe Temple. And Jyn’s shirt is clearly inadequate against even that slightchill.

“You’re supposed to be using a cane,” he calls from severalsteps away, letting her know that he’s there. He watches her shoulders tenseand then relax, and her arms tighten around her waist, but she keeps her faceturned upward.

“You’re supposed to be in bed,” she fires back, but there’sno real heat or accusation in it, only acknowledgement. Neither of them couldstand to hang around medical at the best of times, let alone when their deathwas floating serenely through space towards them. A death, Cassian thinks as heslowly makes his way to her side, that perhaps has been too long in coming. He’doutrun it on Jedha, been dragged from it on Scarif, but now…

“Do you think we’ll see it?” Jyn asks suddenly as he stepscarefully into the narrow space between her and the second pillar. “The DeathStar,” she jerks her chin towards the sky. “Think we’ll even see it?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, watching her lips thinand her shoulders grow a little more rigid. She tilts her chin just a littlemore, her jaw set and her eyes narrow. Like she’s squaring up against the sky,bracing for the blow she can’t hope to block. It makes Cassian’s heart twist,and because there’s nothing he can do about that, either, he turns away from Yavin’shorizon and holds out the material in his hands. “Here.”

She drags her gaze down to look at him, and then at hishands, and he almost smiles at the way her mouth drops slightly open and hereyes widen. “Where did you get this?”

“Quartermasters,” he shrugs one shoulder carefully, becausehe tried it with both this morning and that had…not worked out well.

Jyn unfolds her arms slowly and takes the thick shirt fromhim. It’s thick, sturdy material, not much different from his own practical workshirts, but Cassian didn’t pick this one from the supply pile for the material.He’s a little bit embarrassed to admit why he did chose it, but since he probably only has about fifteen minutesleft to live, he firmly decides not to worry about it.

Jyn traces her finger down the neat dark blue stitching alongthe collar. It’s small, just a scattering of dark stylized stars that twist overone shoulder and disappear into the back of the collar, and at close inspectionit’s obvious that the embroidery is meant to obscure the edges of a patch,where the material on the shoulder had been damaged too badly to just bestitched back together.

“You’re a man of hidden talent,” Jyn muses, raising aneyebrow even as her fingers trace gently along the stars.

That does pull a smile from him, small and weak under theweight of their imminent deaths, but there. “I am,” he agrees lightly, “but Ican’t take credit for this. One of the quartermasters apparently passes hertime making the donations and recycled clothes…” he makes a vague gesture, “prettier.”

Her mouth curls slightly at the corner, and moreimportantly, she doesn’t glance back up at the sky. “Prettier.”

“She fixed one of my jackets a few years ago,” Cassian recalls.“The inside pocket was torn out, and my hands were - ” nearly burned to the bone “- healing,” he swallows quickly andrushes on, and though Jyn’s eyes flick to him, she doesn’t interrupt, doesn’task about the hitch in his voice. “She sewed a vine of some kind into it. Shesaid it was for good fortune.”

“Pretty,” Jyn murmurs, and then to Cassian’s disappointment,she hands the shirt back to him. His stomach drops, and his hands feel cold; hetries to shrug it off, but before he can think of anything to say, any way tohandle the abrupt rejection, Jyn crosses her arms and grabs the hem of hershirt and –

Oh.

She pulls it up and over her head smoothly, and Cassian’sinstinct is to turn his head and look away the moment he sees the pale skin ofher belly. Except there is nowhere to look but the silent jungle that might burnto ash in about ten minutes, and the great blue sky that will unleash the fire.And if he’s going to die with her anyway (like he should have, more than oncealready), then he’s going to spend his last few minutes accepting whatever sheis offering him. So Cassian holds the new shirt in his hands and watches Jyntoss the old one carelessly to the stone floor, and when she looks up at him,he meets her eyes. She reaches for his gift again, pauses with it in her hands,and then suddenly lifts her chin again, but this time to him, a challenge, andan invitation.

He has maybe eight minutes to live, so Cassian takes it. He leansback against the pillar and looks at her, at the heavy-duty combat bra she musthave scrounged from Yavin’s stores at some point (she got that, he thinks, butdidn’t get a shirt too? Or did she think that would be asking too much?), atthe smooth skin across her torso, shoulders, and arms, marred and broken by oldscars and new skin grafts. He looks at the tension in her posture and the bruiseson her knuckles, the shackle scars on her wrists and the faint depression onher ribcage that marks where her ribs had once broken and been patched togetherwithout bacta or bone stabilizers. The skin graft on her right shoulder, theone turned towards the blast when she held him on Scarif, is an angrier red thanthe rest of her marks, although he can see that the lines are already blurringgently into her skin. His hands itch suddenly, a powerful urge to reach out andrun his palms over the curve of her shoulders and down the slopes of her sides,but if he only has seven minutes left in this life, he’s not going to spendthem crossing the boundaries of someone who matters the way Jyn matters to him.

So he simply looks, and then meets her eyes again and thistime the smile comes easily to his face.  “Beautiful,” he says simply, honestly, and Jynstares at him, clearly not braced for that blow at all, but Cassian doesn’ttake it back.

Another fitful breeze raises bumps all along her bared skin,and at last Jyn tugs the new shirt over her head. It’s a little long, andsettles around her hips more like a tunic than a shirt. Her crystal necklace hangsin the unbuttoned gap at her collar, and she reaches up almost absently andtouches the stars on her shoulder. Cassian’s hands almost ache with the impulseto reach out, but he stays where he is and watches.

“I’m - ” Jyn frowns, but it’s more into the distance than athim, so he doesn’t flinch. “I think I’m afraid,” she whispers hoarsely, and dropsher eyes to ground, her head bowing as if in shame.

That galvanizes him, because Jyn with her head bowed isunnatural somehow, wrong, and he doesn’t think he could stand it even if theyweren’t in their last minutes together. Cassian shoves off the pillar andreaches out at last, careful and slow but determined to do this, to fix thisone small but vital thing before he is all out of chances. Jyn’s eyes close butshe curls her fingers when he slips his hand into hers, and tugs gently untilhe’s close enough that she can rest her forehead against his collarbone, herbreath light and warm on his chest.  “Doyou think it will be…” she trails off, and Cassian cups his free hand aroundthe back of her neck and runs his thumb lightly against her pulse point, indulginghimself in this one small thing, this tiny luxury.

“I keeping dreaming it,” he confesses into the last fewminutes they have. Far above them, he guesses that the first grey curve of the Empire’smonstrous ambition is probably peering around the gas giant’s sheltering bulk,but his vision is full of brown hair and dark blue stars, and he doesn’t lookup. “The light,” he continues, when Jyn makes a small, encouraging noise low inher throat, her other hand settling light as a butterfly on his undamaged hip. “Risingtowards us like a wave, too fast to escape.”

“But we did,” she says to their feet. “That time.” Shelifts her head and slides closer, turning her face towards his neck and sendinga shock of warmth and want and desperate, terrible sadness rippling through hisbody. It’s Scarif, it’s just like Scarif, and so Cassian wraps both armsaround her and holds her tightly. To his immeasurable relief, she hugs himback, her arms tender but certain around his bandaged ribs. “Guess that was onetime too many,” her lips brush his throat, and Cassian closes his eyes andbends his head, pressing his face as close to hers as he can, shutting out theworld around them.

“No,” he says, and to his own surprise, he’s still beinghonest. They have survived the planetkiller twice already, found a lost pilot in the middle of a desert, found alost father in the middle of an Imperial prison, and above all, found eachother in the middle of an uncaring universe. How could he look at those incredible,impossible achievements, those momentous victories, and be anything other than hopeful?How could he feel her hands gripping the back of his shirt and her heartbeat sosteady against his chest and be anything but ecstatic, elated, exultant?

“No, Jyn,” he says (and perhaps he’s wrong and they have only a minute or two left, but if he is right, if he is right -) “I think we’re going to live,” he tells her, andthen he laughs, his arms full and his eyes closed, and he laughs as Jyn tiltsher face up to look at him without pulling away, “We’re going to live, Jyn.” And then she is laughingtoo, soft and uncertain and beautiful. Cassian turns his head and presses hismouth to her forehead, and this time when she shivers, it has nothing to dowith the wind at all.

Somewhere far away from their sunlit laughter, the Death Starlights up the darkness of space with a blinding flash, and then fades at last, nothingmore than glittering stardust and memory.

[thebookbin]

The Dawnhounds

Sascha Stronach

Publisher: Gallery / Saga Press Genre: scifi Year: 2022

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*I received a free copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review*

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I just finished Dawnhounds by Sascha Stronach, a goblincore fungipunk Māori post-apocalyptic scifi(?) and it’s so unlinke anything I’ve ever read it’s hard to quantify. The story follows Yat Jyn-Hok, former street rat, current cop, very soon to be murdered. This is a post apocalyptic world where inorganic materials such as metal and plastic are shunned. The city is made of fungus—it’s alive. Doors can be regrown to the hinges, bodies can be modified to promote far-sightedness and gender modification, and the city reclaims the dead. But in this alive city, not everything is as it seems: extreme wealth disparity, a never ending war with a far-off island, and disappearing people.

When Yat is murdered, she is thrust into the dark underbelly of the city she thought she knew. She’s confronted with the dark reality that her indifference to the realities of the city and her role as a cop is just as cruel as the violence around her. Meanwhile, her aging partner, a smart man who’s seen too much, is trying to help her in the only way he knows how. And the Māori gods are calling her, tugging on the threads that keep her alive. The story is such a fantastical mix of everything. Such interesting world building, a mystery, the mythological elements bringing a touch of fantasy, and a woman trying to find her way in a society that doesn’t accept her.

The book does have extreme homophobia, but Yat does find a found-family in the form of a raging queer pirate crew that consists of a literal goddess of a captain, her trans wife (who has to shave because while she knows who she is she is also comfortable with her body as it is) a non-binary boatswain who plays a nose flute , and a chonky strong Tigress crew member who Yat is mysteriously drawn to. Such a fascinating read. I think I’ll want to read it again honestly. I think because I’m unfamiliar with a lot of the mythology and cadence I didn’t fully grasp the story the first time.

storygraph | bookshop.org | local houston

★★★★ sapphic fungipunk stars

[leupagus]

aw, yay prompts! Star Wars/Rogue One - Luke/Bodhi and summer hook up AU or urban street magic AU. Or Jannah/Rose - Heist AU. Or Rivers of London - anything with Molly for that food truck AU. Definitely just pick and choose as interested, or I can send these as separate asks, lol

Star Wars - summer hookup & urban street magic AU

Bodhi ducked down another alleyway, pulled off his hoodie and tossed it in a convenient bin. Then he took a deep breath and turned around, hands in pockets, trying to look casual. It probably wouldn't work. yn had been trying to teach him about sneaking around — "it's called spycraft," she'd sigh at him — but Bodhi couldn't ever shake the feeling that he was always himself, no matter who he was pretending to be.

Sure enough, he turned right out of the alley and ran smack into the someone.

"You all right?" said the voice, concerned and warm and — familiar, but who the hells did he know in this godsforsaken city? Other than the Jedi, who hopefully was still back at the square with his thumb up his arse.

Bodhi looked up into the face of — "Luke," he said, his face going hot and gods, this is why he shouldn't be given any kind of responsibilities! He was good at Imbuing, not Wayfinding; although maybe this was an aspect of his abilities, that ensured he'd escape the Jedi but get caught by the one person he'd like to see even less.

Though that wasn't accurate, really, it was more that he didn't think Luke wanted to see him, after that night last summer and waking up the next morning to an empty bed and—

Bodhi was still mid-spiral when he caught sight of the rest of Luke's getup — a black cape and black suit underneath, one hand loosely cradling a saber.

Luke's eyes were wide and blue and still just as beautiful as Bodhi remembered. "Oh, shit," Luke said. "You're the Rogue?"

"You're the Jedi!" Bodhi protested, but even while his inner Jyn was screaming at him to run or kick Luke in the balls or pull that stupid cape over his head, he could feel himself starting to smile.

Because Luke was beaming at him, radiant as the sun. "Well," he said, tossing his straw-blonde hair out of his face, "I had to get your attention somehow."

Star Wars - Heist AU

"Please put your heads on your hand," said Rose, trying for "calm and authoritative." She might have even hit it.

The woman opened her mouth, then closed it again. "You mean my hands on my head?" she offered, and demonstrated.

"Right, yeah, sorry. This is my first day," Rose said, which probably wasn't the right thing to tell a robber? But also she could hear Finn in her earpiece telling her that he was thirty seconds away and also that she was doing great, which was reassuring, even if the woman in front of her was still holding the...whatever she was holding. "Um, actually if you want to put the thingy down on the floor, that would probably be good," she added.

"Oh god," she thought she heard Finn mutter, as he put on an extra burst of speed.

"The thingy," said the woman, sounding a little offended. "Honestly, if you can't even—"

Just then another woman, white with her hair up in odd little pigtails, came careening into the room. "Let's go!" she yelled without slowing down.

"Catch," said the first woman, throwing the thingy at her.

It was gold and kind of heavy, and Rose dropped it immediately, but they were already gone. "Well, fudge."

Finn's footsteps echoed in the hallway and he burst into the room, holding a taser in one hand and a flashlight in the other. "You okay?" he asked, breathing hard.

"They got away," she said. "Um, I don't know if they were really trying to steal—"

Just then the police started turning up, and the fire department, and all in all it was almost an hour later when Rose was shown the thing that the woman threw at her, now safely ensconced in an evidence bag. "It's a — oh shit," she said.

The detective, some old guy with an accent that might have been Midwestern or might have been just lazy, gave her a slight smile. "Yeah, it's oh shit all right," he agreed. "And guess what else they left behind."

The next morning, Finn came in with an actual physical copy of the Boston Globe; there on the front page was the two of them and Director Organa at the impromptu press conference in front of the museum. Underneath the photo was an array of each returned art piece, or at least pictures of what they'd looked like before. Rose had seen some of the rolled-up paintings and knew it would be months, if not years, before any of them were ready to be displayed again.

"We look good, though," she said, and Finn handed her some copies of the paper so she could send them to her sister and parents.

The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum Return Heist was the subject of months of news stories, three documentaries, and a Netflix miniseries, but it wasn't until almost five years later, when Rose matched with a beautiful woman who liked crossword puzzles and base jumping on Nerdster, that they had the first indication of who exactly had brought the artwork back.

Rivers of London - food truck AU

They always came at dusk, the two of them looking like something out of a supernatural anime about demonic domestic staff. They systematically worked their way through the entire menu, which took them about two weeks, and if the rumours were right, then they'd bugger off.

The food truck community, insofar as there is one in London, operates mostly through mutual follows on social media, uneasy alliances at the various festivals and fairs that require our services, and ruthless undercutting when it comes to the best spots in the City to ply our wares during the lunchtime rush. But word gets around about certain customers, and it went around like wildfire about these two. They always paid cash, tipped lavishly, and only the man ate, but the woman would sit or stand next to him with a notepad, scribbling furiously as he quietly talked to her — describing the food, maybe, or plotting world domination. It was generally understood that they were a pair of stone cold freaks who you prayed would just finish up their weird assessment of your food truck and leave.

Only, the day before they sampled the last item on the menu — one of our sides, a fried plantain that Bev swears could make the dead get up out of their graves with demands for seconds — I let them know that there'd be a special on offer tomorrow.

I could hear Abigail snickering behind me as the gentleman — with those suits and that cane, it was the best epithet I could come up with — lifted an eyebrow. "Indeed? And what will this special be?"

"Well, it's special, isn't it?" I said, laying on the Kentish Town charm with a grin and a shovel. "You'll have to come back and try it. Otherwise you won't have a complete understanding of the menu."

The woman nodded, solemn as ever, but the gentleman looked suspicious. "Until tomorrow, then," he said, with another squint at me.

Abigail joined me at the window to watch them go, arm-in-arm into the fog like something out of Casablanca. "So has anyone figured out what website they work for?" she asked.

"I don't think they do," I said, as the fog swallowed them up. "I think they're just weirdos."

"Weirdos you invited back for a special that you haven't even invented yet," said Abigail, with the kind of insight that makes her a great line cook and a really annoying cousin.

"Well, good-looking weirdos," I allowed.

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

name 7 comfort movies + tag 7 people

tagged by @swinging-stars-from-satellites (yes I’m still catching up on things from like 2 weeks ago, shhh 😅🙃) thank you dear!! ^-^

(these are in no particular order aside from the order they came to my mind)

1) Spider-Man: Homecoming--I know there are some IssuesTM with this movie (specifically its portrayal of Spidey as compared to the original comics’ portrayal of him), and I try to be aware of them, but I do still personally really love this film. it’s very comforting to me for some reason, I think because it’s familiar and has a fairly straight-forward plot and themes that I resonate very deeply with?

2) Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring--I mean really all of the LOTR movies are comfort movies for me, but I think FotR is especially so, probably because of all the time spent in the Shire.

3) Doctor Strange--I’ve only seen it a couple of times, but I’m still going to count it because it’s another one where I’m very comfortable with the characters and storyline and resonate deeply with the themes (I guess I just don’t rewatch movies quite to the extent that some people do, even movies I really love??) 

4) Rogue One--yes it’s tragic, yes it’s kind of heavy, but I still just love it so much. I’ve seen it so many times, I’m very comfortable with the characters and their journeys at this point, but I also never get tired of seeing their story play out, and I always manage to come away having noticed new things about them and being touched by the themes in a new way. Jyn is still my favourite Disney-era SW film heroine. <3

5) The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey--I certainly understand the complaints with all the films of this trilogy, but they’re rather nostalgic for me, because I still remember watching them when I was young with my dad and little sisters, and how re-enraptured I was by the world of Middle-earth (I’d seen the LOTR films not long before but hadn’t read any of the books yet). the colours and designs of this film are just so appealing to me, and it has fairly few discrepancies between the book and the film (compared to the other two)

6-7) all of the Star Wars Prequels + The Force Awakens--this is a bit of a cheat, but I’m going with it anyway, because doing this tag has reminded me just how rarely I actually watch movies and I’m struggling to come up with more to list 😅 I grew up watching the PT almost every weekend for several years of my early childhood, and then when my sisters discovered the Star Wars universe a while later, they were also the ones they fixated most on. I firmly believe that all my entire understanding of storytelling was heavily molded by these movies.

and then The Force Awakens was just so cool when it first came out. at first I complained a lot about how it was “too simple” and “too much like A New Hope”--and while I still think it copied the format of ANH a bit, it’s also very fun in its simplicity. I just enjoy it and it makes me feel like a kid going to the to watch spaceships without worrying about what The Important Fandom Officials thought about every detail.

tagging @audreythevaliant @as-dreamers-do @ladyzayinwonderland @ontologicalmoki @dawnflames @ladyverachtung @assorted-things (but if you guys don’t want to do it or have done it already, that’s perfectly fine! :))

[jyndor]

i'm gonna be a copy cat and ask for rogue one, for the series asks!

Favorite character - cassian andor

Second favorite character - jyn erso

Least favorite character - idk how dare you ask that i guess like... i mean i don’t stan krennic although i think he is an interesting villain lol or like, the rando imperials XD

The character I’m most like - again I am not sure, I feel like I have parts of both jyn and cassian’s personalities in mine, but jyn is a fire sign so probably jyn. but you guys tell me.

Favorite pairing - rebelcaptain lol but baze/chirrut, galen/lyra/ etc this movie has so many good ships

Least favorite pairing - people who ship krennic/jyn need therapy, like i mean after watching the movie and reading the books and understanding the story lol

Favorite moment - the whole third act is iconic, don’t make me choose, oh god hmm... i think the post-eadu fight is my favorite scene BUT really all of it except for the b*r g*ll*t eurgh

Rating out of 10 - 10000/10 spiritually although I would probably say 9/10 realistically because I feel like the first act needs some more character work and the whole film could use another half hour at least. and like, also sometimes the shaky cam is TOO MUCH (my sister hated the movie because of that).

[miaouerie]

whumptober 2020 ------ day 31. left for dead

@whumptober2020​  Rebelcaptain Hunger Games AU: Cassian is Jyn’s mentor in the 70th Hunger Games. After being crowned victor at fifteen years old, Cassian is all-too-familiar with what it takes to bring a tribute home, and what becoming a victor really means.

content warnings: implied/referenced torture, mentions of attempted suicide, referenced brainwashing/conditioning, nonconsensual body modification, references to forced prostitution, references to forced drug use, unhappy/ambiguous ending

A/N: if downer endings aren’t quite your thing, I’ve written an alternate ending here, as well as additional author’s notes in a coda here. this is my first completed multichapter and thank you to everyone who has kept up with this story! any additional fics in this verse will be posted to my ao3.

previous: day 1 / 2  / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15  / 16  / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21 / 22 / 23 / 24 / 25 / 26 / 27 / 28 / 29 / 30 / → read on AO3

When Draven gets the call to escort Cassian from the Remake Center back to their district floor in the Tributes’ Tower and stand by for a forthcoming itinerary, he doesn’t need to see his charge to know that something fundamentally wrong has happened.

The last time his schedule began with picking up Cassian from the Remake Center was that period of time after his father died, which Draven now knows the truth about. But at the time he had been told that after Jeron Andor and Irga Torres were killed in a power plant explosion that a seditioner was blamed for, Cassian tried to kill himself out of grief. After two weeks in the Capitol of being monitored in extensive in-patient therapy, he was turned over to Draven to be ushered through the media press tour for his father’s death.

How Cassian behaved back then is eerily similar to how he presently is in Draven’s custody. He’s sitting in the backseat and relaxed against the headrest, but Draven has known Cassian long enough that the lines of stress pinning him in place are plain to see. His hands folded, in his lap. Facing forward, staring ahead at nothing. A tic in his jaw, barely perceptible but one that Draven catches all the same.

But what disturbs Draven are his eyes. Unlike that first time Draven picked him up from the Remake Center, they aren’t pained or filled with misery. They’re empty, in an unrecognizable way that Draven has never seen in him before.

After furtively investigating the intendance records kept of his charge for the past four years, Draven knows what really happens when Cassian is brought to the Capitol for ‘extensive in-patient therapy’. But for a brief moment he feels something revoltingly similar to gratitude that Cassian’s conditioning is strict about needless eye contact.

-

Next morning’s briefing packet sent to his datapad has a subfolder tagged with “SENSITIVE INFORMATION: DO NOT DISCLOSE,” to be unlocked with a retinal scan. It’s a copy of Jyn Erso’s medical record and an image of a bedside chart; last night she was transported from District 5 to an elite hospital in the Capitol for treatment of a stubborn respiratory illness.

Draven knew better than to ask questions—those who did had their tongues cut out and turned into Avoxes—but he quietly looks into the matter himself while performing his job’s duties for Cassian, whose schedule is booking up like it did during the Games. Taking every precaution available to avoid detection prolongs the search, but eventually he is able to determine that Jyn’s condition is a lie. That there is no proof that Jyn is even in the Capitol.

And then, he realizes, they must not know where she is at all.

-

Cassian’s body language used to telegraph his condition after an appointment but he doesn’t seem capable of it anymore. Nowadays, no matter how badly he’s been abused by a client, the posture he affects in the car is always the same: his hands folded, in his lap. Facing forward, staring ahead at nothing. A tic in his jaw, barely perceptible.

Whatever they had Cassian relearn in therapy included perfecting his talents as an obedient whore, so he’s not often returned in a state of intoxication as he once had to be. But it’s during those increasingly rare times—and only those times—that his tongue is loosened enough to let slip some of the perpetual torment he has to live with as punishment, because of Jyn Erso’s disappearance.

It’s one such night that Draven picks up Cassian at 03:01. After the car pulls away from the curb Cassian is still for a moment, before he heaves out a shuddery breath and his arms slump to his sides.

“Did you know they made it so I can’t say her name anymore?”

The words and their meaning take a moment to register with Draven. Then he says, “What?”

“No… I don’t think they would have told you. But I mean, her. My tribute. The one I saved.”

He can only be talking about Jyn Erso. Draven doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t have to; tonight, Cassian is giving voice to another painful truth.

“They asked me questions about her, had me read sentences aloud… made me give responses with her name in it. And they would hurt me, every single time I said it, so I can’t say it. Not without pain. Not anymore.”

His raspy confession is made to the silence. “Her name was like a prayer to me. Snow must have noticed, so he took it away.” A broken chuckle. “I didn’t think something like that was possible. But, they made me learn.”

Draven doesn’t know if he should be hearing this. But when he turns to give his full attention to his charge it’s like a switch is flipped. When their eyes meet Cassian’s eyes widen before he bolts himself back into place—hands back in his lap and looking straight forward.

The only thing betraying his vulnerability are the tears in his eyes.

-

It should not surprise Draven that Cassian tries to kill himself not long after that lapse in conduct, but it still does. At least, it’s a surprise in the sense that finding out a peer of two decades attempted suicide will always come as a surprise.

The Peacekeepers come when Draven is in the sitting room, waiting for Cassian to finish showering before Kay and his prep team arrive. One moment there’s the ding of the elevator arriving on their floor and in the next, six Peacekeepers are storming in.

Draven knows better than to demand answers in the heat of the moment so he stays out of their way, listens to the sound of the bathroom door breaking and boots stomping over shattered glass, listens to the sound of Cassian’s—frankly animalistic—screams as he’s subdued, and stays out of the way once again when they drag him out naked and wet and dripping blood from his arms and neck. They stand him there until a Peacekeeper returns from the bathroom with a dark fluffy green bathrobe for his modesty, and then he’s taken away.

When they make fleeting eye contact Draven is struck by the scathing accusation in his charge’s eyes. He wasn’t the one who called for the Peacekeepers but Cassian doesn’t know that, and Draven knows what it looks like. But there’s nothing he can say to Cassian in any case, nothing that can change the outcome of whatever has been decided to change next about him.  

-

Draven is scheduled to pick up Cassian from the Remake Center two weeks later. He has to walk into the lobby because the lead cognitive remake specialist has requested to talk to him, to show and demonstrate Cassian’s new implant.

It’s a very thin line of a scar on the back of Cassian’s neck, invisible to the naked eye but Draven can feel it when he brushes his fingers over the skin; beneath is a subdermal neuro-electrical node, grafted onto the nerves there. The specialist explains that when activated, it prevents Cassian from making sudden or any ‘suspiciously motivated’ movements. The remote that they give to Draven is for disabling it. Later on, Draven is assigned the responsibility of disabling its function for Cassian’s appointments as well as reenabling it after each one in turn.

Neither says a word as they get into the waiting car. They don’t speak for the whole car ride back, either. But more than once Draven sees Cassian’s hand creep to the back of his neck; his fingers slowly brush the scar tissue, before his hand is carefully guided back to his lap.

-

It proves very challenging to track where Cassian had been taken after his suicide attempt; Draven is always diligent about maintaining stealth when conducting these probes, but the seriousness of the situation called for significant preventive precautions to be taken. But once he succeeded…

…Then what?

He was able to determine that Cassian was taken to the same complex—in truth, one of several privately held black site facilities—for another two weeks of ‘in-patient therapy’ before he was transferred to the Remake Center. His process uncovered an entire network of similar private corporations and entities that operated under the purview of the government, all funded by the Hunger Games division for one apparent purpose: the victors’ covert diversion program.

But this devastative information only came about as a consequence from his attempts to satisfy an aberrant concern for Cassian’s whereabouts; Draven wasn’t planning on actively doing anything with it. Even the thought alone is treasonous: believing that victors deserved anything less than the hell that came pursuant on winning the Games was just a step below believing that the districts of Panem deserved anything more than the destitution and squalor left to them after the Dark Days. The victors’ diversion program was devised and implemented to prevent victors from believing that winning the Games meant anything other than being punished for it. Repeatedly. Because even if a new victor is crowned every year, the real winner of the Hunger Games will always remain the Capitol.

This is what Draven has always known. But then… there was Cassian.

He had come to know the boy at six years old, the first year Draven received the assignment to escort not only Irga and Jeron to the town plaza for District 5′s reaping, but the latter’s wife and son as well. Only one of the two living District 5 victors had a family, and now that Cassian was old enough to understand how to behave the Games producers wanted reaction shots of Jeron’s wife and child.

Their acquaintance proceeded as such—twice a year Draven saw the Andor boy, first at the reaping and again when escorting Jeron and Irga home after the closing ceremonies. Though he chose not to indulge in the sentiment, seeing Cassian grow up through the years in such a manner often left Draven with a feeling similar to how he felt after visiting with once-a-year relatives during Wintermas.

After Cassian was reaped and won his Games, Draven’s duties as District 5’s escort were officially recategorized with Cassian as his primary charge, relegating Jeron and Irga to second priority; if they needed to be chaperoned somewhere while he was with Cassian, there was express authorization to send a number of Peacekeepers to complete the task. But for the purpose that President Snow intended to use Cassian for, only a Games escort with discretionary expertise could do.

Draven’s choice of career tended to attract a lot of airheads and grifters, those who relished in schmoozing up sponsors or otherwise gunning for a glimpse of the glory and glamor awarded to a winning victor’s support team. But Draven derived his dedication to the job solely from esteem in his own competence; perhaps that was why the president believed his silence on Cassian being groomed and Jeron remaining unaware of it was guaranteed.

Did the president, in all of his scheming, ever consider the possibility of Draven going rogue? But even if he did tell Jeron of what President Snow was doing to his son it wouldn’t have changed the outcome; Cassian’s placement into a mentoring position could only be accomplished by leaving District 5’s mentorship short of a victor. Plus, he would have had his tongue cut out and turned into an Avox if Snow found out; if Peacekeepers were dispatched to interrupt Cassian’s suicide attempt quickly enough to thwart it, his treachery would have inevitably been discovered.

And where would that leave Cassian?

Another escort would be assigned, one who didn’t mind enabling Cassian after an assignment when he comes back horny and drunk or high, or in the mood for taking out his self-loathing on the only person available. Those moments of weakness never failed to stun Draven with their impact—they were cruel reminders of the fact that he is the only person in the Capitol who sees what became of a tormented boy, now constrained to his life as a tormented prisoner.

But Cassian’s new conditioning doesn’t seem to allow for any moments of weakness. Or rather, the implant doesn’t. His movements are mechanized and deliberate, calculated to avoid triggering the parameters for a shock, yet fluid enough that evidently he was put through his paces by his captors. Until he was well-trained, and conditioned, and became devoid of any expression at all.

Suffice to say, they don’t talk anymore. What is there left to say? Nothing, not until Draven receives an update on Jyn Erso’s health status. Then a personal summons to President Snow’s office.

-

The president and a trio of his advisors are waiting for Draven. The situation with District 5’s new victor has turned  critical; even with the Capitol’s elite medical advancements, Jyn is not responding well to treatment.

Draven knows it’s all lies but he agrees along with their assessment. Jyn’s untimely death before the Victory Tour may be unavoidable, and the Capitol needs to control the story behind the cause to control the public’s reaction to her death. Her condition has been kept secret in anticipation of this very situation; several contingency plans to stage been drawn up, each optimized to account for potential blowback between the Capitol and the districts.

While each plan is pitched to weather Snow’s criticism, Draven doesn’t let any confusion or concern cross his face. Not when the president’s snakelike eyes are on his every time Draven chances a glance. He knows Snow is observing his reaction to this authoritarian show of might—whatever choice is made here will have a ripple effect throughout all of Panem, going much further than the conflict between President Snow and the victors of District 5. Expectably, Draven isn’t asked for any input, but he knows that’s not what he’s been called here for.

After the advisors are dismissed Draven stands alone, a respectable distance away in front of Snow sitting at his desk; the president watches him awhile before he speaks. “So, Davits. You understand how imperative it is that we control the narrative, not just here within the Capitol but in the rest of Panem.”

“Of course, Mister President.”

“I’m sure, then, you understand the necessity of what was done to Cassian.” Snow gets up from behind his desk, circling around to lean against the dark mahogany facade with his arms crossed. His stance is still threatening despite its casual assertion; Draven almost takes a step back but he remains standing where he is.

“Jeron Andor mistakenly believed that he had enough power to take matters into his own hands; it can be only him who passed along the concept to young Cassian. One would think that his father’s fate taught him that attempting to do so can only end in tragedy. And yes,” he says in answer to the sudden clench of fear in Draven’s chest, “I’ve been made aware of your interloping efforts regarding Jeron and Miss Torres’ deaths. I concede that it was not a deception that accounted for close scrutiny. Rest assured that when your inquests were discovered, the advisor and those responsible for implementing the proposal were swiftly executed.”  

The president continues, “I will not question your motives for investigating the matter. I am not commending your capabilities in doing so, either. But understand this: there is nothing for you to do here except your assigned function as District 5’s escort. Nothing less, and nothing more. An unfathomably simple request, yet if only Cassian had performed his role in the same capacity his implant would not have been deemed necessary. Undoubtedly you agree that rebellious actions such as his merit consequences tailored to their severity.”

Draven’s throat is dry but his voice remains steady. “Indeed, sir.”

Snow straightens himself upright. They’re both tall people but he does have an inch on Draven in height, and his next words are spoken in a voice both paternalistic and contemptuous. “No further harm has to befall the boy, but it will be your future discretion which will determine that. Now, have I made your situation clear?”

-

Snow doesn’t know the entirety of what Draven knows about the victor diversion program then. Yet. It may only be a matter of time before Peacekeepers are at his door. They wouldn’t kidnap him for ‘extensive in-patient therapy’, not when a bullet to the head would be quicker, cleaner, and most effectively ensure his silence.

There’s only one road for him to take now; he can no longer abide by what the Capitol is allowed to demand from Cassian, not when they claw for everything within reach to cement his enslavement.

Where will his charge be a year from now, or three? What else can they take from him?

How did Jeron live through nineteen years of this feeling?

It should feel daunting; the thought only registers later that night after Cassian is dropped off at the Tower and Draven is heading home. That finding a way to save Cassian will take everything he’s got, in order to go against everything he’s ever known. But Draven did not get this far in his life by second-guessing his choices, and he has never been so sure of one thing.

The next certainty is this: he’s got to find Jyn Erso.