Taako: Look at this bowl, right? You see how it curves up on each side, and in the middle there’s a whole big flat part, right? That’s where most people fall into. Lot of people are in this area right here. And really, people like you who are charged with sort of keeping the status quo, those are the people that you need to worry about, the people in the middle of the bowl.
Kravitz: This is a very confusing analogy.
Taako: It’s not confusing at all! The people who are straight up, who are in the middle, who are sort of regular Joe Pastas, they’re always gonna be here on the flat part. And as long as you keep them under control and keep the herd thin there, it’ll be fine. There’s always going to be edge cases, is what I’m saying. There’s always gonna be people on the fringe that don’t necessarily adhere to whatever rules you set out for yourself.
wait, what's the difference between Cassian's real age and the age they say he is?
I’m assuming this is in response to my tags about the amazing @notbecauseofvictories thing I reblogged about Cassian and Mon Mothma, because I vaguely remember typing something like that, but it might not have been; regardless, if anyone reading this diatribe hasn’t read it, they should go do that.
Diego Luna is 36. 37 now. Born in 1979, just like me. Look at him, look at his face as he plays Cassian; he has creases around his eyes and the bones of his face are sharp in a way they weren’t when Diego Luna was in his mid-20s. He’s beautiful, he’s not young, he’s weathered and sharp and his life is engraved on his face. He’s not old, but he’s not young. I can’t find the still I want: it’s when Jyn has the blaster and he tells her to give it to him, and she slyly says “Trust goes both ways” and he stares at her for a moment. Every minute he has lived shows in his face in that shot, every moment of pure agonizing bullshit he has ever weathered is just right there to see, and it’s fucking amazing. It’s like a half-second acting clinic in Having A Face While Being In Your Late Thirties And Having Seen Some Shit. It’s absolutely what I wish I could do with my face. (I can’t. I have zits and wrinkles at the same time. No one takes me seriously, I get carded for booze, and I’m also old enough to be invisible. it’s amazing.) I can’t find it, so have this still instead.
According to Wookieepedia and various promotional materials, Cassian Andor is 26.
It’s not… impossible… for a man of 26 to look like that but… why…
I’ve just done the Extra™ thing and looked up what Diego looked like when he was 26.
As someone of Diego’s actual age, I feel like that matters. I understand, Cassian would lead a more weathering life than Diego presumably has (I actually don’t really know his RL business but I’m assuming it involved a lot less murder and espionage, and I’m super sorry if that’s an incorrect assumption, but come on Diego is a human sunshine muffin I’m not drawing this out of thin air here).
He’s still not a baby in this photo, of course. He has lines around his eyes, a little bit. Probably if he were frowning his forehead would have some of that crease in it that Cassian has in every frame (because he is frowning in every frame, but, you know). But his cheekbones are still smoothly hidden under softness, there are no hollows above his jaw, he’s soft and smooth and pretty and it doesn’t take anything away, he just doesn’t have as many lived moments in his face to turn wearily on Jyn and visibly decide that he just has no fucks left to give over whether she shoots him or not.
Anyway! A bunch of us writer types were sort of just assuming that Cassian was played by an actor about his age, and have constructed headcanons accordingly, and they are way more interesting headcanons I think than him being a murder baby! It’s the sort of thing, I admit, that at 26 I would have been like “what does it matter” but now that I am 37 I am like “no it matters a bunch, honey”.
ALSO FELICITY JONES is 33 and I was SO EXCITED that they had a heroine over 30 but NO, Jyn is supposed to be like 20 or whatever, WTF. WTF! WTF! Ugh. COME ON, LET WOMEN AGE. It’s bad enough the only women in star wars have to be under five-three and brunette with large eyes and wide mouths but now they also have to be under 30 whether or not their actress is. (CARRIE FISHER WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME.)
Obviously the casting people weren’t really thinking “not every adventure has to happen to Very Young Adults” which is what I was so excited about, they were thinking “These Hot Young People Should Be Played By Hot Slightly-Older People Because Adventure Makes You Look Slightly Older Than You Are”, which is bullshit.
Two days before the opening ceremonies, Eric’s not convinced he’ll make it through this without throwing up from nerves. Even worse, he knows everyone can see it. Katya gives him a look after his morning skate, but doesn’t say anything about the practice itself, just tells him to stretch and eat something and take it easy for the rest of the day.
(He doesn’t lie to her when he promises to do just that—he just doesn’t say when he’ll do those things. At least he waits until she leaves before getting back on the ice)
It’s blessedly quiet and clear—a luxury given that getting truly private ice time is a scheduling nightmare—and Eric marks his way through a step sequence in peace before biting his lip in consideration.
Just one quad. Landing one good one might help him get his confidence back.
(Katya would kill him for trying it alone, but—)
He takes a deep breath and skates to center ice, mentally cueing up his free skate music. The quad is the first element…
He lands it—
—And then promptly falls on his ass during the first triple of the program seconds later.
Since there’s no one else around to judge him for it, Eric doesn’t bother getting up, just lays there and flings an arm over his face.
“Are you okay? That looked rough.”
Oh. Not alone.
For some reason, it’s that more than anything that makes him burst out laughing.
(Concerned Bystander probably thinks he’s lost it. For that matter, Eric isn’t sure he hasn’t either, but laughing is better than crying or feeling sick to his stomach or thinking about all the people on the internet who think he doesn’t belong on the team, so he’ll take it)
“I’m fine,” Eric manages, waving a hand carelessly. “Just waiting for the ice to open up and swallow me before I have a chance to embarrass myself in front of the whole world. Again.”
The smooth scrape of blades on ice hits his ears moments before they skid to a stop next to him.
Not figure skates then…
“Do you think that’ll happen soon?” Amusement filters into Concerned Bystander’s voice—which is really quite a nice voice now that Eric can hear it properly—as he adds, “It’s only that we have practice in a few minutes, so…”
“Oh, he’s got jokes. I see how it is,” Eric says, charmed despite himself. “That’s awfully rude, you know. Like you said, I just had a nasty fall.”
“Well you did say you were fine…”
A hand appears in his field of vision and Eric grips it hard as Concerned Bystander huffs a small laugh and tugs him up. There’s still a smile playing around the edges of his mouth when Eric finally gets a good look, and if he’d been kidding about the ice swallowing him up before he would really love if it could do him a solid now because apparently he’s been making a fool of himself in front of Jack Zimmermann.
It takes every ounce of composure he has not to flush bright red.
“I—” He coughs and clears his throat. “I did say that, yes. And I am. Fine. I fall a lot. Well, not a lot, a normal amount for a figure skater, but I mean I’m used to it anyway.”
He’s babbling. Oh, god.
“Thank you though. For the concern. And the hand.”
Eric realizes abruptly that he still is, in fact, holding Jack’s hand.
“Eric,” he adds, before he can say or do anything else. “Eric Bittle, U.S. figure skater.”
“Jack,” Jack replies, turning their clasped hands into a handshake. “I play hockey.”
“I know,” Eric says, and then he does flush because he didn’t mean it in a You were the first out NHL player and I spent a week trying not to have impure thoughts about your spread in the ESPN Body Issue after that kind of way, but he also didn’t not mean it that way, and really anytime this ice wants to open up under him would be great.
“I mean, your skates!” He corrects. “Hockey skates. And you said we have practice, so I assumed…”
That gets him another quiet laugh and Jack somehow isn’t looking at him like he’s just started doing the chicken dance naked, so he’ll take it.
“We do, yeah,” Jack acknowledges, and at the far side of the rink, the door opens.
“Zimmermann! Are you going to get your pads on or what?” A voice calls.
“Be right there!” Jack shouts back before shooting Eric a sheepish glance. “I should—”
“Go,” Eric says, regretfully pulling his hand away and skating back. “Thanks again. It was real nice meeting you.”
Jack nods and starts to skate off, but stops halfway across the ice and looks back.
“For what it’s worth…the whole embarrassing yourself in front of the world thing…you aren’t the only one who feels that way.”
Jack’s off again before Eric can think of a single word to say in response to that, but it sticks with him as he takes off his skates and leaves the rink.
Candlenights at the Burnsides home; the first time they’ve all been together since the day they saved the world. A time of peace and comfort and joy. But too much wine, too little tact, and too many things left unsaid can really spoil the mood.
Taako explodes. Magnus lays down the law. Lucretia steps out. Merle makes peace the only way he knows how.
A family is a family, for better and for worse.
“You have any regrets, Lu?”
Angus looked up from his food. Around the table, the delicate sound of utensils scraping plates ceased for a moment.
Taako had broken the brief, companionable silence that had fallen over the dinner table. His cheeks were flushed, his expression flat, eyes heavy and half-lidded as he reached for one of the wine bottles. Not quite the distant, disdainful look Angus recognized whenever he pushed too far, or asked too personal a question. This was icier, more brittle.
Taako refilled his glass with a generous amount of wine. Angus counted that as his fourth of the evening.
Angus looked toward Lucretia, seated across the table next to Taako. She didn’t look up from her plate, or really acknowledge him at all. But she seemed to be sitting a bit straighter than she was earlier.
“I don’t,” Taako said, answering his own question. “Never have, never will. No point to it. That how you feel?”
Still, Lucretia remained silent. Angus glanced around the table. Kravitz was next to Taako, looking confused. Aunt Lup was glancing between Taako and Lucretia, almost expectantly. Mr. Bluejeans was staring directly down at his plate, continuing to eat. Merle was on Lucretia’s opposite side, eyebrow cocked but otherwise quiet. Mr. Davenport… Angus couldn’t quite tell what the look on his face was, and he avoided eye contact with anyone.
Magnus, though, was silently fuming. He rested his elbows on the table and glared at Taako, brow furrowed.
“I mean, I’ve done some real heinous shit in my day, Creesh,” Taako said, leaning on the table and swirling his wine in his glass. “I’ve lied, cheated, stolen. Killed. Sometimes I even meant to. But I’d never do anything like that to anyone at this table. Like the thought would never even occur to me, y'know?”
He took a long drought and smacked his lips, staring at nothing.
This year I did what may become a tradition if I do it a third year running–I desperately scrambled to clean the apartment (didn’t really get everything done, but I got laundry, sheets, blankets washed and the floors swept and vacuumed and the trash taken out, so that’s a clean enough start for the new year), then wound up alone in the apartment after my roomies went off to parties, so I cut out a 2017 from some paper and burned it in a pot when the clock hit midnight while humming “Auld Lang Syne,” then scattered the ashes. Came inside, found and kissed my cat, and had a nice mixed drink.
It took a lot to get the year to burn. It’s awful windy. Took a lot to even get it lit. Had to set it on fire in different places. But eventually, it all burned away. It’s gone now.
Long December. And there’s reason to believe that maybe this year will be better than the last.
Let’s all do our best to make 2018 a kinder, brighter year. I love you all.
So, who are we following today? I kind of expressed some of my thoughts on that just a couple hours ago in this ask response, but I guess I should reiterate:
I feel like we might be checking up on one of the hero teams. Maybe we’ll look from the POV of Legend for the Protectorate, Weld for the Wards (or, damn, what if we get Sophia), or one of the surviving New Wave members? Hell, maybe it’s time to learn about the Guild, even.
It’s also possible that we’re getting another Undersider Interlude, to see how one of the others is taking Taylor’s treachery, but I kind of doubt we’d get one this soon after Tattletale’s, and it has been two weeks. It’d be one thing to do that immediately after the reveal, but it seems a bit late now.
I’m gonna stop here, since I have a nasty habit of guessing pretty much everyone we know when it comes to Interlude POV characters. Let’s just jump in and find out!
Will I finish this Raz/Scourge interlude today? Here’s hoping!
She might kick my ass if I don’t.
She cast her gaze about for the long-forgotten robe she’d tossed somewhere when Scourge had thrown her onto the giant four-poster several hours earlier. There was just enough light left locate it, flung over a chair in a corner, as well as a pair of underwear that were thankfully still intact. She really had to teach that large red Sith of hers that they came off and didn’t need to be ripped off. Once in a while was fine…hot even, but he’d shredded his way through at least five pair so far. And some pants. And some shirts. Then there was the broken settee in the far corner of the room. And the headboard that belonged to the elaborately carved wooden bed frame. If they’d been renting, they most certainly would not have gotten their deposit back. The Commander and Theron were going to be so pissed.
(As promised, here’s the second half of this week’s pair of Targrin stories! This one’s about how Chaz got the pistol they use as an offhand weapon. I’ll likely share links to the Google Docs of these after I’ve posted all of them, so you can see the stories in their original formatting!)
I Was Never Young by Of Montreal • Suffocation by Crystal Castles • Coal to Diamonds by Gossip • Interlude by London Grammar • Wish I Was Here by Coldplay & Cat Power • Where Did I Leave that Fire by Neko Case • Wasting My Young Years by London Grammar • If I Ever Feel Better by Phoenix • Don’t Wait Up by Robert DeLong • The Truth by Handsome Boy Modeling School • Shape of my Heart by Noah & the Whale • Face to Face on High Places by School of Seven Bells • Hello Hello by Asian Kung-Fu Generation