I dreamt that I enrolled in a psychology class but the professor spent the first lecture doing nothing but clicking through a slideshow of photos of beautiful landscapes with C-3PO edited into them, then explaining that adding C-3PO to otherwise serious situations ruined humans’ ability to take them seriously. When we all started laughing at what a pointless lecture this was, she glared at us and announced that our laughter had proved her point.
Then she assigned us our homework – go to funerals and show people sad pictures of the deceased with C-3PO photoshopped in. If they laughed, it meant their ability to feel humor was stronger than their ability to feel grief.
I thought, ‘oh my god my professor is a robot with absolutely no idea how human psychology works’ so I decided to stay in the class and help her figure it out by writing explanations in my essays that would offer nuance and context.
“And now class, I want you to examine the following image.”
“Beautiful, isn’t it? This shot of the Bolivian salt flats is absolutely breathtaking and meets all human standards of ‘beauty’. The warm hues of the clouds contrast pleasantly with the deep azure of the sky, and the perfect mirroring in the water suggests an almost mystical purity. The human brain is nearly overcome with wonder at the natural optical illusion. However, I have photoshopped C-3PO into the image, replacing the boat in the original photo. You all laugh! It is no longer a beautiful photo, but a comical one, because no one respects C-3PO. You see him as a fool, and thus the picture becomes comical! Human brains prioritize humor to the exclusion of all else. Now, I want you all to go out and absolutely ruin some funerals tomorrow.”
So I actually wrote my dissertation about this and it’s not just that the Department of Defence (there’s an office in the Pentagon dedicated to liaising with Hollywood productions), but they effectively have a strangle-hold on how Hollywood portrays the US military since the DoD give permission for producers to use military hardware, without that permission the cost of filming sharply goes up and films end up extremely over-budget. So the producers can either drop any critical elements at the DoD’s discretion, or continue with a film which will barely be released at all and will never make its budget back.
Any American film which involves the military, know that the DoD probably signed off on it, or were directly involved with. Films like American Sniper and Zero Dark Thirty had a heavy government influence, the latter to falsely justify the methods the CIA used in finding and killing Osama bin Laden, which included torture.
It’s why the military figures are always the heros and there will never be a Hollywood film which is critical of the US military because of this. Just remember, whenever you see the US military in a Hollywood movie, it’s exactly what the Department of Defence want you to see. It’s not being hyperbolic when these types of films are called propaganda.
I have this unshakable headcanon that Cassian, while super (emotionally) reserved and detached (well, sorta – he’s really empathetic and uses that as a tool, but also has to cut himself off or it affects him too much) for what he has to do, is actually really really affectionate with the people he loves.
Mainly due to his upbringing, which I imagine him just being the darling of all the adults around. As the youngest kid in the neighbourhood he’s witnessed and been the subject of great fondness. Pats on the head, cheek squishes, lots and lots of hugs of course.
He’s also touchy and up in people’s personal space on the job. See how he interacts with Tivik, and even with Jyn at the start he’s already got a hand on her back and guides her way.
After all this, when he really likes someone he’s almost hesitant to express anything, verbally or physically. He’s said and done all these things before but he never meant it then. So how can he be sure they know he means it now? How can he be sure he means it now?
He can’t.
I ship him with both Jyn and Bodhi and you didn’t even specify romance or not, so how he gets past that mental block varies depending on context.
Jyn, equally reserved, not touchy feely but manages to hug him even in the end – they fumble through it together. Bodhi, I feel though he’s lost so much he hasn’t had to suppress himself in the same ways the other two have, as in while he’s had to suffer under the Empire, I doubt that lower level Imperial cargo pilots don’t share the jovial relationship that Rebel pilots do – he makes up the distance and lets Cassian inch forward.
Cassian’s bad with words, because he can paint the most beautiful pictures when he needs to, for the mission, for the cover, but they all seem to fail when it really matters.
He’s so painfully aware when people are in his personal space. They could kill him from a farther distance. His nerves are on fire. He can’t reach out.
He does things, instead. For them.
Actions, not words. Little favours they might not notice until they pile up, the realization smacking them in the face like you did all that for me?
(This is incidentally a theme for a fic update, wink wink)
Stealthy, silent, like the spy that he is. Right when and where he’s needed, but never noticed.
A cleaned blaster, if she doesn’t mind him touching it. Rewiring and the controls so he can fly more smoothly. Rearranging training schedules, rooms, supplies just so; so the Guardians have somewhere to pray, to practise. Knowing when supplies ship and when that fruit or this meat in stock, letting the right person know so that homeworld festival can be celebrated on time.
Most of it he’d learned with Kay. Tweaking his processors, offering the necessary but sometimes awkward knowledge the droid had needed to manuver a human world. Asking if he wants to power down for the night, so he can fix him, for the flight. Arranging oil baths, neatly filling in scratches, rapping him lightly on the chassis even though, as Kay reminds him, he has no tactical sensors. Cassian does it all, anyways.
Kay only said thank you the first few times, eventually learned to rebuke Cassian’s offerings with what he could’ve done better. Statistically speaking… Cassian would only smile in response.
Cassian shows affection with favours; but he doesn’t expect anything in return.
(Not because he doubts he’ll live to ask, even though that’s true, but because he frankly doesn’t care. You do things because that’s what you’re supposed to do. What he wants to do. Not out of expectation, never out of expectation. How else could he be in the Rebellion?)
Once they figure it out, though… he receives much.
Bodhi blinks and uhms before offering a wide grin and a hesitant hug, and Jyn leaves her thanks in forms of a plate scraped clean and a warm gaze when he stumbles home after a mission. Leia is always just what he needs, stubborn enough to spit out what he’d love to say (kriff that dim witted nerfherder, you’re right and they know it) but can’t. Baze is affectionate in the exact same way (cleaning weapons and mending clothes and offering a shoulder to rest on), their relationship is beyond speaking, honestly, but they know. They’re too similar, that way. Painfully so, but they bond because Cassian always loved languages, and between Jyn and Bodhi and the Guardians he’s now fluent in four major languages once spoke on Jedha. Chirrut knows all, sees all, is the first to translate Cassian’s love language but keeps the secret under lock and key. His appreciation is shown in his words of advice, and slowly Cassian learns to translate those as well.
He finds out Jyn’s prone to hugging almost as much as Bodhi is, only when nobody’s looking, and that is when the dam inside Cassian breaks.
He remembers his father’s touch in his hair, the aunties pinching his cheeks, his mother’s lips on his forehead. All of it comes rushing back.
So he gives, gives, gives it all away.
His dearest is lucky then; will always know they’re loved. Cassian’s hands are never far, always ready to reassure and to hold, be held, in the worst of it. His shoulders are to nap on. Pecks on the cheek and the forehead and the knuckles and the parting of hair; cuts and bruises and scars and insecurities. He loves tenderly, gently, reverently.
Passionately as well, there’s no doubts to the fervent depths of his love, as an empath the emotion builds between them like a wildfire and he could really lose himself in all that emotion – but it isn’t about being fire, all the time. This is a war, after all, they’re caught between extremes. It’s so much easier, nicer, special, to be gentle.
¿Cuándo volverás a mi, amor? Tus hijos te extrañan; la niña llena el estómago, esperando que casi trago se parezca tu voz. En tu jaula, disecan mis cartas y sacan “besos,” “espero,” “tu propio.” ¿Cuándo volverás a mi, amor? Tus nietos te extrañan. Sin ti, tu hogar se ha marchitado de los cimientos; los recuerdos de treinta años hacen ecos como fantasmas. Tu tierra te extraña: añora los besitos de tus pies.
¿Cuándo volverás a mi, amor? El amor es más fuerte que la ley. ¿Cuándo me cantarás “victoire, victoire”? No soy yo sin ti, no puedo florecer sin ti. ¿Cuándo nos volveramos mejor, amor? ¿Cuándo nos volveramos América?
I have c a r e f u l l y reviewed your immigration history. In addition, I have carefully considered the assertions made in your request for a stay of r e m o v a l, specifically the fact that you
are a primary caretaker of your two U.S. citizen minor children. You were granted the opportunity to d e p a r t f r o m the U.S. of your own accord, but have failed to do so. You are currently categorized
as an ICE fugitive. Therefore, favorable exercise of discretion cannot be granted at this time. Your application to stay is therefore d e ni e d. P l e a s e b e a d v i s e d that there is n o appeal.
The Miss Translated series is a meditation on identity, language, and the things that get lost in translation.If you like Miss Translated, consider supporting me on Patreon or tipping me on Ko-fi. But before you do that, call your congresspeople and tell them it’s time to abolish ICE.
If you’re not sure how to describe her appearance, you can describe how she acts. Talk about how she sucks in her stomach to squeeze between desks or how she tries to make herself look smaller when she’s in a crowd. Or, alternatively, how she walks proudly with her shoulders back and her stomach leading the way. How she swings her hips confidently and looks back over her shoulder at the person she knows is checking out her luscious booty.
Focus in on how she feels about being chubby. Does she like her body, or is she self-conscious about it? That will affect how she moves, how she dresses, even just how she sits next to someone. Does she wear baggy clothes in an attempt to seem smaller than she actually is? Does she wear crop tops and leggings and show off her curves? You could even talk about where she shops. If she’s a much larger size, she might not be able to go to the same stores as other characters in your fic.
Body language changes from person to person, and body shape can inform that language. Dig deeper into the character than just her outward appearance, and that will help you round her out in more than just her hip region 😉
One potential trap I’ll caution you to avoid is to signal her size by writing her constantly eating or eating poorly. That’s a trope that just needs to stop. There are lots of reasons why people have different sizes, and diet is just one of them. If you don’t spend a lot of time describing how other characters eat, I’d skip it with her as well.
I’m somewhat more than chubby myself, so that’s how I’d go about it – but then that’s my own experience. Your readers might or might not appreciate that approach.
Rebellions are built on hope 