You only get close-ups of the ones I like though :>

Very tired looking Finn wrapped in a blanket is something I didn't know I needed in my life but here we are (I can just imagine Cassian wrapping the blanket around his shoulders and giving him a warm cup of tea)

Also young Cassian again because uhm-- Cassian with a ponytail??

These days, Cassian had enough food to last him weeks. These days, Cassian could eat whatever he wanted from the pantry, and he knew it would be replaced the next day. These days, he was safe.

So why was it so hard for him to believe it?

There were rice cakes and crackers and hunks of bread in his wardrobe, just in case. He had pilfered sweets from Rhys’ room and hid them in his night stand drawer. All around his room, little hiding places for food were carefully kept secret. It was his food. No one else’s. If they couldn’t see it. They couldn’t take it.

For a growing boy, Cassian ate surprisingly little at dinner times. Rhys’ mother was as patient as ever. It’s not like he was the only one who struggled to sit at the High Lords table. He was a bastard born Illyrian. He could never belong there anyway. He picked at his food, pushing it around his plate with his fork, held awkwardly in his hands, more like a weapon than a delicate piece of silverware. He hated eating off of it. He hated eating in front of everyone, especially Rhys who ate off of his fork with all the poise of the Prince he was.

Later that night he would sneak down to the kitchen, where the leftovers were waiting in the fridge. Too much for one person, but he would eat it all. He would use his hands, much more fitting for someone like him.

The sheer amount of food was overwhelming, his stomach churned and rolled, but he kept eating, as if at any moment it would be snatched from his hands. It hurt. He felt light-headed, and dizzy, and only had a few seconds to make it to the sink before he threw it up.

“Cassian, what the fuck are you doing?” That was Azriel’s voice behind him. He was never asleep early. Cassian should have waited longer.

“I got hungry.” He said, as if the number of empty bowls on the kitchen counter didn’t give him away. Azriel sighed.

Newly un-bandaged hands came up to rub Cassian’s scalp. Cassian remembered when he had finally taken them off. How he and Rhys had gone pale at the sight of them. But they were Azriel’s hands. His brothers hands. They could never hurt him.

“Cassian, that was all the food for tomorrow.” He said, peering into the bowls, pushing the plates back from the edge. Azriel rarely showed how much he cared, but Cassian knew he did. When he heaved into the sink again, Azriel was by his side in an instant, rubbing just between his wings. Cassian couldn’t help the tears that fell, nor the embarrassing whimper he made when Azriel gathered him in his arms.

Azriel gave a withering sigh, but let Cassian sob onto his pyjama shirt anyway. He kept one hand on his back, the other reached over to turn the sink on, washing away the evidence of Cassian’s late night binge.

“You want to show me where you’ve hidden the rest?” Az asked. Cassian shook his head. By now the crackers and bread would be stale. But he needed them there. Just in case.

Just in case.

“Come sleep in my room, Cass.” Azriel said, already leading him up the stairs, one hand on his shoulder. Cassian brushed his teeth. Then got into Azriel’s bed, like they had done a hundred times before.

He didn’t worry about whether Az might have a nightmare. Whether he might wake up with the burning need to finish off the food downstairs. Because Azriel’s soft breathing was against his forehead, his scarred hands were gently rubbing his back. He was warm. He was comfortable.