#it just felt more okay because suffering with agency feels different from just plain suffering

[vickyvicarious]

bad days

@angelrtsy95 this is for you. 

(based off this beautiful and sad art by @citrusvoid)

also on AO3 and FFN.

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They all have bad days, sometimes. It'd be impossible not to, the lives that they lead. Sometimes it's about what just happened - Leverage has met its fair share of evil, often all the more rotten behind the mask of a respectable member of society. Sure, they always win in the end... but only for a given definition of 'win', because there's no actual eradicating these kinds of people. It's impossible to always be satisfied with helping just one family, destroying just one small empire in a world full of them. Sometimes helping one person almost makes it worse, because that only makes you more aware of the extent you can’t get to.

Of course, a lot of bad days aren't about anything happening now. They all have a past: the kind that ripples out into the present, that creeps into your mind when you’re least prepared and sucks you back under. It’s never for long. They don’t ever let it stop them, but there’s no such thing as simply being over it, either.

In the beginning, they took care of themselves. Parker would go nonverbal and nearly nonexistent; she’d vanish whenever anyone turned their back on her. Nate crawled all the way into a bottle and lashed out with vicious accuracy at anyone who tried to drag him out. Sophie showed it least, but when she had a bad day she also tended to get quiet. Not in the same way as Parker, vanishing where she stood; Sophie would instead gaze thoughtfully off in the distance, be perpetually distracted and sad when she let her guard down. Eliot was grumpy often, but when he was really upset he would just leave. He’d go away, completely remove himself from them, and come back a day or six later with bruises or cuts or a sling, still frowning.

Nate wore his pain like a weapon; Parker a shield. Sophie floated away; Eliot anchored himself down. Alec was probably the only one of them, at the start, who knew how to go to another person for help on a bad day. Whenever he felt that choking feeling crawling up his throat, that familiar aching fear - he shut himself up in his room. Wrapped himself in fluffy blankets and made hot chocolate, and called Nana. She somehow could always tell the difference between a call like that and plain old socializing, and they’d talk for hours until he felt better. Not good, often, but she knew how to blunt the sharp edge until he could cope in less important ways, get caught up in a Star Trek marathon or lead a raid in World of Warcraft or hack an alphabet soup agency again.

It obviously helped that a lot of his worst demons were the ones Nana had banished, long ago: feeling alone and unloved, worrying he wasn’t enough, fearing he’d lose her far too soon. Okay, so he helped with that last one, but she’d kept on living, so Alec considered that her victory like the rest. Still, he’d picked up plenty of his own problems since leaving home, and she listened to whatever he had to say. Sometimes she gave advice, sometimes she just changed the subject to stories of some of his foster siblings or the latest drama with her neighbor or their stories on TV. It didn’t really matter, she was his Nana, she had always loved and accepted him and been there to rely on; she always would.

The rest of the crew didn’t have people like that anymore. Not at the beginning.

But it didn’t take too terribly long for them to start becoming those people for one another. And like anything, it was easier in fair weather at first. They’d hang out and watch TV and eat food together, but no one came to another member of the crew for comfort when they felt sick or upset or lonely. That took much longer.

It happened, though. Alec wasn’t even the first one; that was Sophie and Parker. Parker started poking at Sophie, metaphorically and otherwise, whenever she was in one of her horrible lost moods, and for the most part it seemed to work. She’d snap out of it, just a little, whenever Parker forced her to react to what was actually happening around her. And it happened for the rest of them, too: Nate still drank himself to death, but he visibly tried to bite back on the vitriol on his worst days. Sometimes Sophie could reach him even then, though everyone else still was better off not pushing too far. Parker still went silent and small, but she stopped leaving the room every time. Instead she’d sit on the couch hunched up into herself, wrap her arms around her knees... and lean her side into someone next to her. Usually Eliot, Sophie a little more rarely, and then Alec. Even after they got together, that ratio didn’t change - but she held his hand sometimes. Spoke to him, when they were alone, in short bitten-off sentences, and held him tight till his knuckles ached. 

Alec liked hugs, when he was really upset - liked being wrapped up in someone’s arms, feeling their warmth and a steady heartbeat under his ear. He liked listening to them talk, sometimes even more than he wanted to spill his own guts. Sophie was fantastic at telling stories that brought him out of his bad mood, while Parker’s firm touch was infinitely comforting. Nate and Eliot were less comfortable with the physical affection, but Eliot would always hug him back for a few seconds, before patting him hard on the back and making him something delicious to eat; Nate often managed to find a job that was up Alec’s alley, or make some awkward comment that was about ninety times more comforting than it ever ought to be.

They’d all gotten better about being vulnerable together, about seeking comfort from one another.

Except Eliot.

Oh, he was better about the smaller stuff. He hugged, now. He’d go on cooking sprees and essentially force feed them comfort food. He even talked about his feelings. It was just that he didn’t do any of that on Bad Days. He’d work through a rough mood with their support just fine, but whenever anything bothered him deep, he withdrew again. Left, again. Came back a week later limping or bandaged and didn’t say a word about any of it. And Alec would never want to push him - that’d be the worst reaction. Eliot knew how to be dangerous, sometimes couldn’t help being dangerous; maybe that was what he needed on days like that. Or maybe he just couldn’t turn it off and didn’t want it turned on them. Either way, Alec trusted him and wasn’t going to press for anything to change if he wasn’t ready... but he still worried, every time. Eliot wasn’t going to lose a fight, he wasn’t going to leave like that and not come back to them. He wasn’t ever going to hurt any of them, and he knew how to stay intact enough to do his job. But intact wasn’t the same as safe. Every time, Eliot came back injured, and Alec honestly didn’t know if he was letting it happen or if he just threw himself into situations where it was unavoidable. There wasn’t much difference between the two, really, and he wanted to help. He wanted Eliot to come to him instead, him and Parker both. Sophie or Nate would do too, anyone would really as long as he stayed safe, but - but he and Parker had talked about this, they wanted Eliot with them. In every way, that kind of came with the territory of being in love, but especially this one.

It didn’t happen though. Not for years - not for years after they learned about Damien Moreau, even, and at the time Alec had wondered if that’d been what stopped Eliot from ever seeking them out before then. If he’d thought it’d be too much like lying, asking them to comfort him when he knew what he’d done had been horrible, had been something Alec couldn’t forgive.

(He wasn’t ever going to ask. He’d still love Eliot, he swore he would, but he’d never ever ask.)

But even then, even long after then, Eliot kept to himself. When Parker and Alec finally, finally convinced him that yes, they wanted him too, that didn’t make a difference; for so many other wonderful things but not this. He went away, came back, didn’t say a word. He didn’t change his routine when Sophie and Nate retired either, just sometimes mentioned that he was leaving for a while, first. None of them ever had really bad days on the job, they were all too good at compartmentalizing for that, but Eliot especially seemed to time them well. It was damn suspicious - but so were all those bruises, every single time, and those were worse.

When it finally changed, Alec didn’t know why. He didn’t ask either, that was another thing he knew better than to ever ask about - but, god, his heart ached to know. Because Eliot didn’t come to him, not all the way. He came so, so close and then stopped short - and Alec knew this couldn’t be the first time he’d done that. It couldn’t be, he just knew it, and he wondered how many times Eliot had done this first, had suffered right by his door and then left and came back days later hurting on the outside instead.

It was three forty-two AM. Alec woke up thirsty. He yawned at the ceiling, considered just rolling over and ignoring it, but his throat was dry and he knew his awareness of that was going to take over completely and drive him mad as soon as he shut his eyes again. It happened all the time. So, even though he was extremely comfortable, he wiggled out from under Parker’s arm and walked out of their bedroom.

He didn’t notice Eliot on his way to the kitchen. (Wondered now, too often and always with a sick twist in his gut, how many times he hadn’t noticed him on his way back to bed either.) Drank a glass of water in the dark, felt it cool and refreshing down his throat and drank another half-glass after just for the feeling. Then he padded back along the hall, scratching absently at his stomach as he went - and that was where he saw him.

Eliot was sitting in the hall, just outside the door to their bedroom. He was still dressed in his clothes from yesterday: a white t-shirt and jeans, brown shoes. He hadn’t come back yet when Alec and Parker went to bed, but none of them exactly had a regular sleep schedule and Eliot had said he was going to be back late from hanging out with some old friends. So it was possible that he’d only just gotten back, maybe that he was drunk and tired and it seemed more logical to just sit down here instead.

That wasn’t it though, so clearly wasn’t what was happening here. Eliot’s knees were up, his feet planted in front of him. He sat with his back against the wall, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped around the back of his head. He was just staring down at the floor beneath his feet, holding himself down and still and Alec could see the tension in his arms from the opposite end of the hall. Eliot could’ve been here for hours. He’d nearly walked right past him again, he’d nearly -

Alec didn’t think about it. He was there before his brain had even fully processed what he was seeing; fell down to his knees so hard they cracked loudly against the wood floor but didn’t stop. He scooted in, tucked his whole self around Eliot, one knee under his bent leg and one wedged between his back and the wall. Wrapped his arms around the top of Eliot’s head, grabbed on tight to his wrist; rested his chin on top of Eliot’s head and stared into the dark, feeling his own breath go shaky and rough.

Eliot didn’t move under him, didn’t let up the tension in his grip at all. But there was a shape emerging from the darkness of the bedroom; Parker must’ve heard Alec hit the floor, because she wandered out to join them, yawning and loose-limbed. Her eyes went wide when she saw what was going on, but she reacted quickly too. Parker just flopped on top of them both, letting her head fall down to join Eliot as her arms draped loosely over the top of his head to rest on Alec’s shoulders. She was doing that gross mouth-breathing thing she did sometimes when she’d just woken up; for a long minute it was the only sound in that dark, warm hallway.

Then Eliot started to shiver. Just a little at first, but soon it was a full-body shudder that just kept going and going and Alec squeezed him tighter, held him closer and breathed him in and finally spoke: “We got you, babe. We gotchu.”

“Together,” Parker mumbled, voice soft and arms still loose, but she was sitting up on her knees and pressing her head close in, her words going right into Eliot’s ear.

He just sat there and shook, and they held him and waited, long enough that Alec’s back and arms ached from sitting there too long and then a while after that. Eventually, Eliot relaxed: tension bleeding out of him slowly, slowly, slowly.

His head drooped lower. His fingers unlaced, and Alec caught them with his own. Parker sat up as he pulled back, pulled Eliot’s arms down. He kissed his hands, one then the other on his knuckles, and they weren’t swollen or wet. Just loose in his grasp, curling slightly under his kiss.

When he looked up, Eliot’s head was still down. He was watching Parker as she unlaced his shoes for him. Alec stuck a hand under the knee closest to him, lifted it so Eliot’s foot was no longer on the floor, and Parker tugged the shoe and then sock off. He reached under to do the same with the other leg next, and Eliot just let him. He didn’t resist or help.

They stood up next, leaving the shoes and socks in the hall to trip over in the morning. Eliot walked with them into their bedroom; when they stopped at the edge of the bed he sighed softly.

Parker stepped up in front of him. Looked Eliot quietly in the eyes as she unbuckled his belt, tugged it loose and then pulled his pants down. He just stood there, slack and exhausted and when she knelt down to tug the jeans past his ankles, he leaned his head back into Alec’s shoulder. Even though Alec hadn’t heard him cry at all for however long they’d sat out there, Eliot was moving with the sluggishness of the truly sobbed-out. Alec wrapped his arms around Eliot’s back and bent down to kiss his shoulder. He swallowed loudly, and the sound made Alec’s own throat feel tight.

Parker climbed onto the bed first, scooted all the way over and laid down with her arms and legs out, waiting for them to join her. Alec took a moment to let go, but when he did Eliot immediately crawled in after her, pressing his forehead into her neck as she pulled him close. Alec stopped to shut the door and make sure the blinds were completely shut over the window before he followed. By the time he made it back to the bed, they’d shifted around. Parker was spooning Eliot, a leg over top of his and a hand lightly fisted in his hair.

Alec pulled the covers over all of them, slid right up against Eliot and sandwiched him fully between himself and Parker. He kissed her over Eliot’s head, wrapped his arm around them both, and shut his eyes. Listened to their breathing slow.

Eliot didn’t say anything. Not that night and not the next morning. Despite Alec’s efforts, either some morning sun got to him or his internal alarm clock just ignored even the worst need for rest, because Eliot got up first. He made them all breakfast and didn’t talk about what had happened with such clear deliberation that they both knew not to, either. He was weird all day, had a kind of wild look in his eyes and didn’t really hold his end of the conversation well... but he didn’t leave, and he didn’t stay away for days, and he didn’t come back with bruises or cuts or a concussion.

Not that time. He still did, sometimes. But sometimes Parker still vanished, sometimes no one but Nana would do and Alec couldn’t cry for anyone else, not even his partners. Eliot started showing up next to them more often on his bad days. He didn’t quite ask for their help, but he sat somewhere they could find him, held himself tight inside and when they held him too he’d start to shake. He cried, sometimes, but usually he just got quiet and tense and exhausted, afterwards. He never talked, and Alec wasn’t sure he ever would, but that was okay.

Eliot was okay. He had them both to help, just like they had him when they needed. He let them help now, let Alec hold him and protect him and keep him safe like he’d always done for them. It made him feel so important, so trusted and full to overflowing with love. He checked the hallway in both directions every time he got up for a glass of water. Most of the time, it was empty, but sometimes he held Eliot again, hugged him tight until his grip on himself finally relaxed.

Kissed his knuckles then, on calloused and unbroken skin.

[faulty-writes]

Hiya! Could you do headcannons of Ochacko, Hawks, and Shinso comforting their female S/O after a depressive episode? If you can't do this request, I completely understand!!

As someone who suffers from functioning depression, I love this request. I hope I did it justice! 

Ochako was typically a happy, bubbly girl and nothing seemed to anger her. Well, that is outside of hero work and training. She always seemed to have a positive attitude and was an utter ray of sunshine when she walked into a room. Sometimes you wondered how you caught her interest and how lucky you were to call her your girlfriend, despite many people thinking she was in love with Deku. 

You knew you could always count on Ochako to cheer you up. Though you hadn’t cried in front of her...yet. It wasn’t because you didn’t trust her, she had your whole heart. But, sometimes it was hard to explain your depression. At times, you felt like many wouldn’t understand or that if you told Ochako she would just look at you confused. In the past, you had told a few “friends”, but they always seemed to shrug it off. Then again, they weren’t heroes. 

Still, despite your outward appearance. You knew you couldn’t keep this happy act up forever. Every day it seemed like something was bothering you and Ochako was beginning to get suspicious which only added to your paranoia. As a result, you began to push her away. You knew it wasn’t smart, hell it wasn’t even nice. But, it was the only thing you could do. Best to save her the drama. 

However, one day. It seemed everything hit you at once. You were dragging your feet through school, your head was hanging low and your eyes were dull. “Are you sure you don’t need to see Recovery Girl? I could float you there, it’d be easy!” Ochako insisted and you forced yourself to smile. “No, I’m alright, babe. Just a little tired, but thank you.” your words were sealed with a kiss, but you should have known better than to underestimate Ochako 

You had made it a habit to begin hiding away after class, at least until dinner when you were done crying and could put on a brave face once more. But, you never thought you’d see Ochako sitting there on your bed. Her arms crossed and the look of anger plain as day across her face. You weren’t sure if you were going to return her anger or finally give in and tell her what was wrong. 

You ended up telling her...everything. Your past depression, how your negative thoughts were consuming you, and why you were too scared to tell anyone. Your heart was racing, despite the fact, you knew it was silly to think Ochako would break up with you over this. But, it was that very thought that caused more tears to stream down your face. Instead, Ochako pulled you into a hug, “Shh, it’s alright.” she whispered softly as she pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

It was amazing how loved Ochako could make you feel, even when your depression was bothering you. She gave you a smile and scattered kisses across your face, “Everyone is entitled to be sad just as much as they are entitled to be happy, but I’m not leaving until I see those tears dry.” she said as she gently stroked her fingers through your hair. “I love you,” she whispered.

When you first graduated from UA, you found it a little difficult to get your footing. You didn’t want to go back to the agency you had done your internship or work-study with, you wanted to experience something new. But, it seemed most hero agencies didn’t approve of that. That is, all except for one. Keigo Takami, also known as the Winged Hero: Hawks. Seemed interested in you and offered you an employment opportunity at his agency. You thought it was strange, but what other choice did you have? 

Keigo often treated you with respect and you knew he cared about you, more than he led the media on to believe. But one thing always struck you odd about your relationship with Keigo, which was the fact he had to remind you to be honest with him. “Not that you can’t lie to me there kid, but I tend to see through bullshit pretty fucking quick.” at first you didn’t understand what he meant, but you were a little worried he had noticed your change in behavior or the fact your eyes were red on occasion. Did he know you cried at night or did he give that warning to everyone? 

Regardless, your depression seemed to hit you hard. But, you continued to play it off. Which meant avoiding Keigo at all costs, but you should have known the trained spy had his ways to get answers. So, he did what he did best. Take the matter into his own hands, do things his own way. He began to keep an eye on you from a distance, document your actions, and research your behavior. It might seem like an extreme course of action, but he had already properly warned you of the consequences of trying to lie to him. 

You let out a cry when Keigo pushed you against the wall, you should have known better than to arrive at work when you knew Keigo was still around. But, you had bills that needed to be paid and you couldn’t exactly afford not to work. Yet, the angry expression on Keigo’s face was enough to make you tremble, “I thought I made it clear not to bullshit me. Guess you don’t listen that well, but I’ll let you know right here, right now. I’ve been watching you and I know what you’ve been hiding.” he said and you felt fear course through your being. “If you have an emotional problem, just fucking come to me. Why put both of us through this bullshit?” you weren’t sure how to answer him. 

Yet, Keigo’s words hurt you more than you wanted to admit, your chest felt heavy and you found yourself shying away from him again. Part of you wanted nothing to do with him, you knew he was honest and that he expected honesty. But, he didn’t have to call you out like that. Unfortunately, the winged hero proved to be difficult to shake, and after a few days of you avoiding him. He decided to put a stop to it, but it only resulted in confrontation. You found yourself screaming at him and cupping your face in an attempt to hide your tears. “Look, I’m sorry...fuck. Just, don’t run away from me and stop that crying, come on. Come here, babe.” he urged as he pulled you into a hug and kissed the top of your head. 

After a long conversation, you told Keigo how you had been feeling. “Look, I’m not good at comforting people but, well, it kind of kills me to see those tears so.” he reached over and gently cupped your face. “You mean a lot to me, you’re not just some fucking wannabe hero I picked up. You’re...someone I...treasure, as fucking far fetched as that seems,” he explained as his wings came down to wrap around you, they were warm and felt soft against your flesh. “Anyone makes you fucking cry, they’re getting a punch in the face. But, if it’s because of this depression thing you have well, I’ll always be here. I’ll give you extra love, kisses, whatever you need.” he promised before he leaned down and gently pressed his lips against yours. 

You knew others might think Hitoshi to be a quiet and slightly reserved man, people also tended to admire his quirk only because of the potential of it being villainous. However, such rumors stopped his second year when he got accepted into the hero course. This is where he met you, while you two were similar in the fact you were quiet and mostly kept to yourself to avoid both drama and trouble. Hitoshi displayed true happiness when he smiled while you, well it was a little different for you. Not that you faked your emotions, just your depressive episodes tended to put somewhat of a strain on you. 

However, Hitoshi never found you at fault for feeling the way you do. In fact, you felt as though you could tell him anything without worry. Hitoshi was very honest, and when he noticed you were quieter than usual, he didn’t hesitate to speak. “Is everything alright? Obviously it’s not, but...I’d rather hear the words straight from your mouth.” he said as he reached over to lay his hand over yours. Something that you found comforting, but you were hesitant to tell Hitoshi that your depression was beginning to yet again, bother you. Not because of the possible way he’d react, more so because you didn’t want to bother him. He needed to focus on his training in order to catch up to the other hero students and you didn’t want to get in the way of that. 

But, among the many positive traits Hitoshi displayed. Loyalty seemed to be a big one and as such, he tended to spend more time with you when he knew you were feeling down. Which proved to be something you were grateful for as you hid your face away in his chest, allowing your tears to fall. You could feel his fingers stroke through your hair, “It’s okay to let it all out, most don’t think people our age deal with a lot. But in actuality, some of us have more problems than we’re willing to admit. But, I’m here for you.” he spoke softly as he nuzzled his head against yours. 

Hitoshi was always so gentle with you, whenever you were feeling sad or when you needed to cry. You were thankful he didn’t judge you, and you found the most comforting place to be was in his arms. You loved it when he held you close and gently rocked you, speaking sweet nothings to get those tears to stop. “I know it was a rough day at school, but I noticed you’ve improved. It was amazing watching you out there, I know Bakugo bested you. But, you’ll get him next time. You have an advantage, you’re smart. You have tactical intelligence, that’s important when it comes to hero work.” he said, still gently swaying you back and forth. 

At times, you would end up falling asleep with tears still sliding down your cheeks. But, much like always. Hitoshi was there for you and whenever you fell asleep in his arms. He’d gently carry you back to your bed and tuck you in. It was something to wake up to his sleeping face in the morning, knowing that yet again, your hero was there when you needed him. But, somehow deep down. You still worried that Hitoshi would get tired of your problems one day, despite the fact he told you he would never turn his back on someone who needs a hero. 

[kiitsume]

a few thoughts on six the musical because nobody asked for them

(also excuse any historical inaccuracies, i've done only cursory reading thank you)

let's start light. the costumes are pretty but they completely take away any sense of historical context, unintentionally minimizing the degree of awareness the audience has of the culture surrounding the women at the time, which is actually pretty important to the message the writers are trying to construct.

the music is good. like, it's catchy and generally well written, and of course well performed. but the writers giveth and the writers taketh away. mostly they take away. all of the songs are reductive and collapse six people-- who they claim to attempt to honor the memory of-- down into platitudes and general notions of people, caricaturizing them into something that's barely recognizable.

the set up the musical to be a "competition between these six women to get the respect the deserve for the amount they suffered" and then they turn around at the end and shame the audience for doing that-- for picking favorites along the way and actually considering which ones they empathize most with.

the opening song, "ex-wives" uses modern lingo and whatnot, but it's not any more jarring that the costumes, so it's not until "don't lose your head" that the text speak really throws you off. it was honestly uncomfortable to watch in context of the musical, at least upon my viewing.

do i know they went chronologically? yes. will i ever forgive them for putting the most jarring joke of a song, "haus of holbein" right after arguably the most heartfelt song of the musical, jane seymour's "heart of stone"? absolutely fucking not.

haus of holbein has it's merits. i won't lie. it addresses the beauty standards of the time and the way that women were expected to destroy their bodies and give up their lives in order to appeal to men, which contributes to the larger narrative the writers were trying to build in saying that all these women would've led remarkable lives if they hadn't been forced to give themselves up to a life that made them miserable. but all of that is erased by the fact that it has air horns in it, i'm sorry, that can't be overlooked. literally die.

katherine (we're going with the musical's spelling okay) howard's song? a fucking bop. "all you wanna do" is iconic. but it has been brought to my attention by my girlfriend, who is much more knowledgeable on the six's actual history and writings, that pretty much the entire song is a complete disregard for who she was in life and her actual feelings, and that's especially irritating because they did it specifically for the purpose of constructing a much more simple narrative and, in the process, did the exact thing they claim to condemn: writing over her, and all the others, with what they think they know and bending them and their lives to fit their ideal message. how so? my girl k howard actually did have feelings for thomas. you know, the one person in the song she's like, "just mates, no chemistry/ i get him and he gets me/ and there's nothing more to it." they just throw that out to make thomas look like a nice guy and like people were just constantly taking advantage of her, which to some extent was true. but it also strips all the agency out of her life, and ignores the fact that "serious, stern and slow/ gets what he wants and he won't take no," francis dereham was the one who got jealous of her and thomas' relationship and snitched to the king and got her executed. there's literally no acknowledgement that he was anything other than just another fling or something. and, by omission, it implies that her music teacher, henry mannox, was the one and only one who groomed her (and molested her at 13). in reality, dereham's relationship with her started when she was 15 and he was 32. oh, and she was 17 when she married the 49 year old king. if the musical is supposed to form a cohesive narrative around how these girls were taken advantage of and thrown out by history as a joke, her story is literally ideal for that purpose. but instead we got naive girl uses sex to get ahead and then it backfires and she's killed for it.

not that thomas is innocent in all of this-- when the affair was brought to public light he blamed everything on howard and continued to deny ever sleeping with her, though he eventually admitted to intending to. there's some debate over whether their private meetings were actually an affair, but howard's writings on it make it seem as if she did have feelings for him, so. we may never know. but again, this is just to show the disservice the musical did to her.

i don't know as much about the other queens i'll admit, but here's just a few things that would be useful for the narrative the musical tries and fails to build: catherine parr was 15 when she was married to henry's brother arthur, who she couldn't speak to because they'd corresponded in latin but had different pronunciations-- this marriage was to give arthur greater legitimacy, because she was considered more strongly royal by blood; anne boleyn resisted henry's attempts to make her a mistress-- she was extremely smart, which was desirable in a mistress but not a wife!-- as her sister mary had been, and her daughter, unlike parr's is never acknowledged by the musical, the subjects called her "the king's whore" and blamed her for his tyranny, and-- oh, did i mention? historians debate whether there were any actual grounds for the charges brought against her that led to her execution, and most scholars regard it just something the king did so he could move on to seymour; jane seymour was married to henry the day after anne boleyn's execution, and she was never publically coronated in part because of a plague (woo!) but some also theorize that henry didn't want her to be coronated until she'd done her "duty as queen" and bore him a male heir; anne of cleves was described as extremely beautiful, so when the king met her and described her as "plain" he was incredibly let down, and immediately decided that he wanted to avoid the marriage altogether-- she was not considered ugly, as the musical makes it sound, just not good enough for the kings "selective" tastes (you know, the same henry who had a festering, ulcerated wound on his leg from a jousting accident); catherine parr is done the most justice, actually acknowledging the work she did in education and writing, the role she played in the establishment of the Third Succession Act which allowed her daughters access to the throne, and her two previous marriages (one of which was to someone twice her age) but it fails to acknowledge that her protestant sympathies got her targeted by arrest warrants before she reconciled with the king, and she was able to marry her lost love thomas seymour (different thomas, different seymour) in secret four months after the king's death, only to die a year and four months later.

also this: catherine of aragon was the only wife older than henry when they married, with her being 24 when and henry being 18; boleyn was 32 while henry was 42; seymour was 28, married to a 45 year old henry; anne of cleves was 25 and henry was 49; i repeat, howard was 17 when she was married to the 49 year old king; and parr was 31 and henry was 52.

and they were all flawed individuals, too, don't take my defenses of them to mean otherwise. in fact, as historical figures, i don't necessarily like all of them. but despite their flaws, they didn't deserve what happened to them, which is something the musical fails to portray in every way. it glosses over everything so quickly, which i understand is to be expected to a degree when you give each queen a six minute song to tell the story of their entire life, but the writing distorts them so badly they're hardly recognizable, and their stories are changed willy-nilly to fit the lazy empowerment theme rather than addressing them as they were.

the final song, "six." boy do i have thoughts. it's meant to seem empowering, and to an extent it is, because the characters they've given us get to talk about having a happy ending and making something of their lives that made them happy to have a legacy. but none of it's true, and it feels incredibly forced, especially because they take the concept of these women and pay no attention to them historically or what the figures they're based on would've actually wanted, and instead just says, "they all sing and dance and have a great time! question nothing!" and it just feels so hollow. it honestly made me feel even worse about the historical figures themselves and the suffering they endured, because it felt minimizing and shallow, like a platitude to make you stop thinking about how horribly they were treated. it was genuinely upsetting from that point of view, and despite how uplifting it's meant to be in the context of the show, it acknowledges that it's only a dream by giving a time limit to their happiness-- five minutes. and after that point you're supposed to go on continuing to be happy, having connected with these people and been empowered by their stories, when you are given very little of their actual stories and are shamed for analyzing things through the lens they gave you at the opening of the show. not to mention how horribly they trample over their message of how restrictive and repressive their lives were by nature of their station and says that, "well, if they could've just made different choices they would've been happy!" ignoring how the culture gave them no other choice and there's a pretty good chance that, even if they had made the choices they wanted to, they would've still been held back by virtue of their gender and station. the story behind six is not empowering, and it feels horrible to have it twisted around that was to make it seem empowering. i understand not wanting to beat down your audience and make them miserable, but rather than reducing these women down to such simplified caricatures and then having them all bond and have a girl power moment, it would've been much more impactful to have their actual concerns be what they bonded over-- being forgotten, talked over, held back, so on-- and talking about the people they actually were. having them write their own stories is fun and all, but having them actually tell their stories and feel heard, even if it's in a time they'll never see, is a much less reductive sentiment.

tl;dr: so basically i thought the musical was badly written for the message they were trying to send, and no amount of good music or talented performance can save a boring or badly written musical, and the six queens still deserve better.

[peachy-inserts]

Could you write for Aizawa's s/o opening up to him about her past? She's an underground hero like him but she used to be a criminal and she's finally opening up about how her early life lead her down a dark path but she wants to be better? She just needs some help getting there. I love the way your write the characters!!❤️❤️

That means so much anon, thank you! Your words are very reassuring

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

You and Aizawa had been together now for only a short number of months, but could tell already that it was becoming a very serious relationship. You could see the difference in his eyes whenever he said your name, and the way you two discussed the future was almost if it everything had already been decided. Yes, things were going quite well for you as a couple.

But something had been bothering you lately. Shouta was quick to catch on, not wanting to press you on it, but hating to see you troubled by something. Maybe they’ll tell me, if it’s important enough, he thought. He resisted the urge to confront you and tell him what was wrong, because it was plain as day that you weren’t happy the past few days, and instead watched in silence as you went on through the day as if everything were fine.

You both went out on your separate nightly patrols, kissing each other goodbye and making your ways off to your designated posts. After his shift, he stopped by his agency, shared by several other heroes, to go over some reports. 

“Motherfucker” he groaned, not bothering to apologize to the offended looking receptionist. With a heavy sigh, Aizawa shuffled the immense stack of papers that had been delivered to his desk and flipped through them. Getting to work, he settled in, accepting that he would be here working for the majority of the night.

Meanwhile, you had only just made it to the end of your patrol, feeling satisfied in your work, even though there was nothing to do other than watch the public on this particular night. Doing hero work was the most fulfilling thing in your life; you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You loved everything about it! Although you were an underground hero, you were finally doing something good for once, something worth living for, something that you could take genuine pride in. And the best part about it? You got to live authentically - being a hero meant that you got to be yourself, because nothing was more important to your career than the identity that you created for yourself, and it was all up to you. It was the realest thing in your life, and what made you wake up ready to take on the world every morning, despite having received some troubling news recently.

Your work as a villain had been exposed, and evidence was being held against you by a suspicious e-mailer. They went as far as to send you death threats, but what could you even do about it? If you dared to ask for help or advice, then you would just be exposing yourself, and everything that you had worked so hard for all these years would be taken from you in a matter of seconds. If Shouta saw, you were sure that your relationship would be in jeopardy, because how was he supposed to ever seem you in the same way? You thought about all this on the way back to his place, having agreed earlier that you would go there after work, since you were working the night shift and it was closer than your own home. 

You fell asleep almost immediately after crossing the threshold into Aizawa’s apartment, your head hitting the pillow like a rock. At around three in the morning, you were suddenly woken up by the front door abruptly slamming shut; he was rough with everything that he did, it was his personality.

“Shouta?” you said, slipping out of his bed to make your way into the entrance, seeing him turned away from you, locking the door, and holding a small stack of papers. “I was waiting for you, did anything happen?” 

He turned around, eyes dreary and heavy with stress and exhaustion. He needed to shave exceptionally bad today, too. “No” he replied. “It was uneventful, but I went to go do some office work, and-” he cut himself off, struggling with the weight of what he needed to talk to you about.

“Is something the matter?” you frowned, shuffling your feet beneath you and slipping his heavy coat off from his shoulders, storing it in the hall closet adjacent from the kitchen entrance, which was off to your left. 

He left no answer, just darting his vision away from you and moving towards the dining room table. He laid the papers out, one over the other like a set of cards in a poker game, and sat examining them.

“Were you ever going to tell me? Is… is this some kind of elaborate joke?” he was clearly hurt, pain was written all over his face. It was the most emotional that you had ever seen the man. 

“T-tell you what?” he sputtered out, knowing damn well that the same sick person who had blackmailed you had given in and spread the evidence.

“Is this… you?” he looked down, head in his hands, and slid a photograph across the chestnut table to you. There it was; the very same picture you had seen in your inbox a few days ago. “Shouta, I-” tears immediately began to well up in your eyes. If you said anything else, they would undoubtedly begin to cascade like waves.

“I wanted to tell you so bad, I-” you sniffled, not bothering to hide the fact that you were practically sobbing. “Yes… that’s me”

Remorse. The only thing you could tell he was feeling.

“But… why?”

You hid your face away from him, feeling judged and unwelcome in his home. “I just- I never wanted to be. That’s just how it happened. I didn’t- didn’t have a good upbringing, okay? That’s why I don’t want you to meet my family. They raised me so that I felt my only escape from them was to become a delinquent, to start breaking the law. I felt like I was trapped…” you trailed off, your thoughts finally pouring out like heavy rain after building up thunderstorms in your mind.

Aizawa, oddly, wasn’t mad at you. He felt sorry, which even shocked him; typically, if you were anyone else, he would have left them on the spot and have them atone for the crimes they never paid you. But you? You were one of the most selfless, caring people he knew, and he trusted you more than anyone. Besides, you admitted right off the bat that you were the one in the photograph; so then why would you possibly be making up the rest of your story?

“Im sorry…” he wasn’t sure what to say or do, other than to close the distance between the two of you and run his hand down your back, hoping to comfort you and reassure you that he still loved you. “Tell me more. I want to know everything about you, everything that has shaped you into who you are today, and most importantly the woes you have to live with. They’re mine, now, too, so don’t bother trying to let yourself suffer alone, because it hurts me too.

You sniffled, looking up at him with red, puffy, and agitated eyes, though bright and innocent, and felt your lip quiver as you suppressed another sob.

“Well… I lived that way for a couple of years, and I hated it. I fucking hated it Shouta, I was truly miserable… I just couldn’t do it anymore. So I finally broke off from the group I was in and tried to do something good with my life, and the only way I felt like I could truly redeem myself was to become a hero, because that’s the best way there is of helping people… I just want to be a good person-” this time, you didn’t try to stop it and let out a terrible cry that shook you down to your core. It hurt.

“Just please, I’m sorry but I need this, please don’t le-” before you could plea to him not to leave you over this, he cut you off.

“Darling, I love you, I love you for who you are. You past, your present, and the future I want to have with you. Just what you’ve shown me over these past few months with your kindness and dedication have convinced me that you’re possibly the greatest person I will ever have the honor of meeting, and if that’s what made your present, then I’m glad you’re letting me know, and I’m glad to know you are in fact even stronger than I thought before”.

Aizawa pulled you close to him, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you continued to weep your tried and tired little heart out, telling him under your breath repeatedly that you loved him. 

If he wasn’t sure before that you were the one, he was now. Somehow, in some strange way, all this only made him respect you even more.

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

ok so i tried to make this more ‘action-y’ than my writing usually is, with more actually happening in the story and less filler information. i really hope that you guys like it !

-mod josie

[maeve-of-winter]

Can you please stop acting like you care about Midge? Honestly she was a swet girl who didn't deserve to die or anything bad yeah but the truth is that she was a tertiary character at most who had like no development at all and no reason for people to actually care whether her boyfriend hoops up with someone or not after her death... If you think it's bad writing and prefers Joaquin with Kevin that's fair, but just say that instead of pushing this "Wow they're doing Midge dirty" narrative.

Anon, you do realize that some of us care about misogyny and how female characters are treated, right? I mean, I realize that Kevin/Moose shippers don’t since Midge being killed means you get your ship of choice with the icky woman out of the way for good, but there are people out there who are concerned with how the female characters in Riverdale are represented.

Here’s the thing: until Midge died, I actually did ship Kevin/Moose (seriously, if you scroll back far enough in the “Kevoose” tag, you’ll see my posts), along with a whole bunch of other Kevin ships. It was not until she died and the show began using her death in a very specific, ugly way to motivate male characters that I turned again Kevin/Moose. I ship Joavin now by default. 

What happened to Midge is a classic example of “women in refrigerators” AKA “fridging.” Fridging is when a female character is killed off, raped, or otherwise injured to provide motivation to a male character, because while women’s suffering is supposed to be tragic, it’s also not intended by these writers to be their own. It’s meant to about how it affects and wounds the men, because women themselves often aren’t viewed as important enough to have storylines of their own, or to even have agency. And it is very, very rarely reversed with men being hurt to motivate women.

My deepest annoyance with Midge’s death is that it is not her own. I understand that she needed to be one of the Black Hood’s victims to drive the plot, but I’m still annoyed that she got used as a shock death. But if her death had people focusing on who she was and how much they will miss her, then fine. Instead, we just get a bunch of people and the show unironically using Midge as a motivating tool. Cheryl seems like she could care less about Midge herself being dead and more that a Vixen is dead, and inexplicably throws in with the Lodges, people whom she previously protested against and people her girlfriend is against for trying to take her home from her. To Reggie and Moose, Midge’s death drive their vendetta against the Southside and then ignite further conflict between the Northside and the Southside. To Fangs and, indirectly, Jughead, Midge’s death is a reason for them to angst, but not because she died and they’ll miss her, but because of the way her death is shaping up to affect them.

It’s not uncommon that a woman’s death is treated as motivation for the characters of a story, but it’s still a lazy, tired trope to use. Especially with how Reggie instantly charges out to fight the Southsiders when he realizes Midge was dating one of them in a scene filled with “How dare you touch one of our women!” vibes, even though they’d only been showing interacting once onscreen before. This is one dude who has no reason to feel motivated by this woman’s death, since he was barely shown to know her. And yet, somehow he’s driven to attempt to murder Fangs because he’s so upset at the idea of Midge’s death? It makes no sense whatsoever and can only be a classic case of “woman dies to motivate man.” (Yes, I know Reggie was in love with Midge in the comics, but the show is not the comics, and if Reggie was in love with Midge, they needed to establish that in the show.)

Also, another aspect I’m annoyed with is how they retconned Midge into cheating on Moose with Fangs. I honestly do believe they did this to make it more acceptable that Moose was cheating on her so that the audience will ignore that he was kind of an ass to her when she was alive and simply feel sorry for the guy with the dead girlfriend. I also think they’re going to try to use it to make it okay for him to date Kevin so soon after Midge died, but it doesn’t take away from how badly Moose has treated Kevin in the past. People can headcanon all they want about Moose and Midge having an open relationship, but from what we saw, Moose lied about Midge knowing about him and Kevin and tried to trick Kevin into thinking it would be okay if they started up another fling together, and Kevin was upset about it.

As a final note, I really do feel like the show did do Midge dirty. In a season where most of our main characters were continually acting like assholes or being astoundingly self-absorbed but the show didn’t realize how bad they were, Midge’s genuine kindness toward Kevin felt wonderfully refreshing. At last, we were onscreen with someone who cared about someone other than themselves! And then she was brutally murdered. I can’t help but think that’s something of a metaphor for Riverdale’s second season: people who act like assholes and do asshole things are rewarded for them and the show doesn’t realize that they are assholes, while characters who do seem genuinely nice are slaughtered offscreen. If only Midge had become a teen mobster and decided to unite with Archie and Veronica in making people homeless--I’m sure the show would have spared her then.

And before you response with “Well, perfect characters are boring! Characters should be allowed to make mistakes!” 1) There is a huge difference between the characters being completely unflawed and constantly being an asshole with no sign of development, and 2) there is a huge difference between a story that realizes its characters are assholes and a story that doesn’t. Riverdale doesn’t. It wants us to accept that the main characters are good and it wants us to root for them simply because these are our main characters. It continually shows our main characters (especially Archie and Veronica) being horrible people, but it does not ever acknowledge when they’re being horrible, or they portray it as understandable or inconsequential.

I can accept a story that’s about flawed characters struggling with what’s right or making bad choices as long as the narrative understands that they are flawed. What I resent is when I’m asked to accept characters as good people when they do bad things over and over and over, with no sign of stopping, no sign of regret, and no sign of development. And that is what Riverdale has been asking me to do this season with various characters. Midge was a character they didn’t do that with--she was just nice, plain and simple. So yeah, I’m going to be upset when one of the few likable characters this season dies. Especially when her death is used to try to make us feel sorry for her jackass boyfriend who cheated on her when she was alive, tried to manipulate a lonely gay kid he knew was interested in him into unknowingly cheating with him, and whose response to her death was to go out and target poor people.

[pingou7]

A car, two cops and a stardust — a RebelCaptain road trip fic

by @pingou7 pingou  for @thestarbirdfromtheashesStarbird

(aka the Road trip fic Diego Luna’s filmography made me write)

Read and enjoy, and please consider leaving me a few words.

Summary:

As the dusty roads criss under Kes Dameron’s old car, Cassian Andor lets the wind mess with his hair through the open window. Dust, sunshine, laughter, its easy to recapture the taste of days long gone.

(…)

At a gas station near Corpus Chirsti, when they climb back after taking a piss, both jump out of their skins as a random brunette, eyes thunderous, hisses dangerously from the backseat:

“Just pretend I’m not here.”

Update: Part 6 is (finally) up... seriously guys we’re not dreaming.

(I dedicate this one to @sleepykalena AGAIN because she’s a great support for me and this fic especially and to @shotgunkitten cause why not?)

Read more on AO3 (or under the cut)

Part 6 — From Caborca, Sonora, Mexico to Delicias, Chihuahua Day 4

There’s palpable anticipation when Kes, Jyn and Cassian find themselves in a secluded spot in the motel they’ve just spent the night at.

Despite his innuendos from the night before, Dameron is quick to grasp the seriousness of whatever Jyn — finally — intends to disclose. After a hushed chat between the Charolastras, both are ready to hear her, with copious amounts of tea and coffee at hand, if necessary.

She swings a bit on her chair as she sits, her bag hitting the table with a clatter. She tries so hard to appear casual that it makes Cassian smirk, until she says:

“Let’s just get on with it, shall we? Tell me what you got on me and I’ll fill the blanks as I see fit.”

“You’ll fill us in as much as we ask, you mean. I’ve got quite enough of your secrets Jyn. If you trust us, then you do it all the way, there’s no in between.”

She glares at him, but Cassian holds his ground and Kes legit produces a pad and a pen, already preparing to take notes the old fashioned way. She looks cornered but she complies eventually, crossing her arms sullenly:

“My parents were scientists. He was an engineer, a prodigy who tended to put his research above anything else. She was a geologist, somewhat mystical, she’d also been a political activist at the time they had me. Long story short, when his work caught up with us, my mother paid the ultimate price. That’s how I ended up with Saw Gererra, after they... I mean, he came for me when I was eight.”

The name wouldn’t startle them if not for Kay’s data last night. Apparently the guy was pretty notorious for doing shady stuff in foreign countries, and suddenly Jyn’s secrecy makes more sense. While they did not expect her to go back that far, Kes’ eyebrows shoot up next to him, trying to picture what kind of unorthodox childhood she might have had, and gestures for her to continue:

“Saw took me around, in some cringing neighborhoods worldwide and pretty often in middle of war zones. Needless to say, I haven’t had quite the schooling my being born in the UK would imply. He was a bit of a mercenary and I picked up the job pretty early. Still I was safer with him than I would have been with my father. That’s too bad Bodhi couldn’t say the same though...”

“Hold on here, it’s confusing,” Kes interrupts.

“Told you it was bigger than what you can handle.”

“We don’t want to handle anything, just get the picture straight. So, let’s start with this Saw. Saw Gererra, right? He was a mercenary you said.”

“Of a sort. He was like, the saint patron of lost causes, only there wasn’t anything saint about him. If he knew of a conflict, he got involved.”

It’s plain to see she edits a lot of stuff, but the guy is reported deceased, so he doesn’t matter much in their grand scheme of things. Knowing bits of her past is nice and all, but it doesn’t explain why she felt obliged to hop on their car at the gas station. Besides, they somewhat got the gist of her numerous travels listed — under different names — in the file Kay somehow managed to sort out.

“And how is he linked to your current predicament?”

“He was my legal guardian. That is, not so much legal, more like official,” she corrects wryly with a bittersweet smile that makes her look wearier, harsher. “Saw didn’t abide by the constitutional laws, only counted the goals he deemed to be right, for the greater good. And sod off the souls that got corrupted in the process or even casualties that bloodied his path.”

“What do you mean, Gerrera was a terrorist?”

They knew as much already, from the file. But Jyn doesn’t know that and she may have a more nuanced perspective. Knowing her as they do by now, she doesn’t disappoint:

“Some say he was,” she says softly, “but even now I don’t think it was that. He got increasingly lost, I think, and desperate too, in his headlong rush, even after dropping me, considering what he did to Bodhi. He was a bit extreme, that’s for sure, but if anyone is involved in terrorism now, it’s my father.”

You could hear a pin drop. Her declarations were windy — for her standards — but broken, and yet there is no sound of Dameron’s pen scribbling away. Personally, Cassian is sure his brain just court-circuited or something. Jyn’s tone would not have been more neutral if she had talked about the weather, yet the loathing burns, brimming in her eyes and they know she’s dead serious this time around.

Galen Erso’s hereabouts are currently classified, he remembers reading last night. It's pretty suspicious, after all, the only piece of information they have is that some people are currently looking for him, and so her too, perhaps. Of all the possibilities that had crossed their minds yesterday, terrorism had not been on the radar.

“You have proof regarding your allegations?” Kes asks neutrally.

“What happened to trust, guys,” she accuses instantly, “if there’s no honor amongst thieves, you’re no better!”

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. We believe you, all right?”

“That’s good to know,” replies Cassian looking at his contrite best friend and the woman still agitated across from him, trying to process everything.

“I take it you don’t, Cassian? After all your pestering, you think I’m lying?”

“No, I believe you, I do. But I don’t get what the deal is, yet. I mean, you have no contact whatsoever with your father, right?”

“No,” she says curtly.

“Then I don’t get why people seeking him would force you to flee like that, even if they’re bad guys.”

“Good guys, bad guys, it’s all a matter of perspective, really. Both sides of the moral spectrum had me on the run at one point or another.”

“You’re a good target, then?” Dameron goads boldly, probably trying to provoke her.

“I’m used to be one, so take care of not becoming one too. People have the tendency to leave or die when dealing with me. You have a family.”

From anybody else, it would sound like a warning, perhaps a threat, even. Some of these declarations have already been said at the precinct, as a matter of fact. Only there’s real anguish on her face, and as much as it feels like it, they are not interrogating a suspect.

That also means they don’t have to keep their distance, so Kes shrugs, sending her a gentle smile as Cassian reaches out to squeeze her fingers curled in front of him. She doesn’t shy away from it. Instead, she grips his fingers in an iron grip that belies the calm facade she somewhat maintains and starts to rant again:

“You don’t understand, Saw used weapons, taught me how as well, but my... Galen Erso conceives mass destruction ones. He’s wanted, by cartels or separatists or religious fanatics, who knows? Or maybe it the other side that seeks him, governments, federal agencies? I don’t know!”

For one usually so collected, her tirade boarders on hysteria and more than what she’s saying, it’s her emotional state that has the two cops spooked. Gone is the funny but guarded Stardust, gone is the woman that Cassian was perhaps a tad smitten with.

“Listen Jyn, it’s not as bad as you make it to be, as far as we know. Your father’s intel is classified, not unknown in our database. That means there’s records of him somewhere, okay? Perhaps he is even working for the States, on a secret project and you might be safe from law.”

“Perhaps, but Bodhi too thought there was no harm in doing my father a favor, to help “making things right again”, to quote him verbatim. He had a job he liked, a family and he was healthy. He just had to get Galen’s message to Saw, that’s all. But nothing has been the same since.”

“What do you mean, he was hurt then?”

“Do you hear what I’m saying? Of course he was! Look, I don’t precisely know what Saw did to force the information out of Bodhi, as if he wasn't so desperately willing to share it regardless. Whatever it was, it destroyed him mentally, and I couldn’t bring him grief like that again. It took so long to patch him up after that...“

“Easy here, Jyn,” Kes coaxes slowly, using a soothing voice he had perfected on Poe, “you don’t have to rush, take your time.”

While her face remains tightly closed off, her voice shook with a pain she has more and more difficulty concealing. For Cassian too her erratic flow means the big picture is hard to grasp still, but he caught enough elements to satisfy his curiosity. Of course Dameron is nothing if not thorough, once in professional mode, so against Cassian’s protective instinct, she resumes her tale, closing her eyes:

“Truth is, when people came, I panicked okay? I’ve spent my whole life trying to ignore that I am the daughter of Galen Erso. Told you, Bodhi had already suffered so much because of my father and my guardian. Couldn’t put him through this mess again. So I bolted.”

“At the gas station?”

“No, my flat. Some guys in black knocked on the door, but Baze, our friend, was thankfully the one answering. They were asking for me, looking for my father. I fled. Ran, took the train, walked some, ended up at said station. I just wanted to get some power bars. Things escalated quickly and you know the rest.”

They might know what happened from there, but the real question was what should happen from now on. Reflexively, Cassian’s tongue toys a bit with the front of his mouth, passing on his lips, and Kes catches it as the sign of nerves it is. Sighing as he closes his pad and pours himself a caf, he asks:

“What do you plan to do then Jyn, this cannot go on forever.”

Suddenly Cassian detects too many responses dancing in her irises, making her eyes shimmer so much that she doesn’t resist when he yields to his impulse and pulls her to his chest. Soon Kes puts his hand on her shoulder from behind and looks over her head at Cassian, sincerely worried.

She has no answer to give them yet and they don't wish to push her further.

Eventually, they decide to get going, as Delicias is still far away. By a non spoken agreement, her situation is not broached again as they climb back into the car. Her long talk has apparently left her drained, and she closes her eyes in the backseat. However, Cassian is still grasping at straws, turning things around in his head, hoping he’d figure a way to piece together what he should to do about her.

Jyn’s essentially a quiet person. She can talk and banter but only in short periods of time, lest she becomes edgy. He doesn’t mind, now that he knows more about her. He is not put out by her silence anymore, now that he knows she’ll completely fill him in. He can allow her the luxury of time, now that he knows for sure they do have some to spare.

He can, he will.

“Hey, stop pendejo, who’s freaked out now? We have some time to figure her out okay? Be professional Andor, think like the cop you are,” Kes whispers softly in Spanish, mindful to keep his voice low.

He knows that. To be truthful Cassian doesn’t fear her bolting at a moment’s notice anymore. He’s just left a little dazed by all the facts they have to ponder on.

Three hours later, in Hermosillo, they decide to rotate after pausing for a childish snacks of crisps, sandwiches and quite a few sweets. Shara would be screeching about the poor example they’d offer Poe, and Kay would surely rant about rotting teeth and the dangers of unbalanced diet and junk food in general... At this simple thought, Cassian wants to sigh already. But when Jyn is the one to ask for the wheel — she needs something to do — Dameron amazingly lets her.

Exceptionally, he’s the one upfront with her, indicating their next stop while Cassian takes the backseat and picks some random sweet to chew on. He hopes she doesn’t catch him texting a few leaks about Galen Erso to Kay. Thankfully Kes provides a good distraction as he engages in an air drumming so wild Jyn inquires:

“Do you play of an instrument guys?”

“I can strum my way on a guitar,” Cassian says immediately, to broadcast how little attention he pays to his phone, like it was some casual texting, because it’s precisely not that. “But cursí here is the real musical prodigy.”

“Hence the Charolastras...”

“Yep, I can play the guitar, banjo, ukulele, clarinet, accordion... I just like music.”

“I couldn’t tell with your horrendous sappy songs, though,” Jyn quips, igniting the guys’ laughter. “I’m impressed! My mother wanted me to learn the violin, I think, when I was a child. But I’ve forgotten everything.”

“Actually, I know some violin too, I can teach you, if you’d like?”

“Perhaps,” she smiles neutrally, keeping her tone guarded.

Cassian would like for Kes to teach her too, he’s not even envious. That would mean they would hang out around each other longer, so every scheme is good enough, as far as he’s concerned.

They arrive in Delicias at last, legs cramped and heads pounding. After a quiet dinner at Bandido's Steak House — Jyn has a fleeting smile when she sees the name, but tacos are good there — they don't check in hotels this time, but park in front of a shabby house. The city may be nice, but it's relatively unsafe to drive nightly around these parts and they're beat anyway.

She doesn't comment when Cassian conjures a key up and let them in the dusty shelter. Kes groans, already pulling out his phone then swears because he missed his son's bedtime. At first, they had planned to visit a bit, enjoy the travelling a bit more, but Jyn's talk ate too much time and energy. Rain check, Cassian thinks, trying to forget this shelter had been a friend's house once.

Enough ghosts were floating around them tonight without him adding his, so everyone acts like nothing is out of the ordinary, despite the obvious tension. To make matter worse there was no bedroom at all to share so they just lay down in sleeping bags. If with Kes alone it could have been reminiscent of their former stints, with Jyn present it's uncomfortable and he's sure the dust around is only partly to blame if he has a hard time swallowing after saying goodnight.

It's just a stop, Cassian reminds himself tiredly, staring at the ceiling with the sound of Kes breathing and Jyn wriggling near the door, always ready to flee at a moment's notice, apparently. Things will start to pick up in Fresnillo, Cassian thinks earnestly, turning on his side.

Once they meet Saba Madero, the Charolastras will cheer up, they always have a good time with their old buddy. Then they will figure out Jyn's mess, not to mention there's still Bernal to reach.

How Dameron could have thought their buddy time would be relaxing, again? It the last roadtrip he will grant him, ever, no matter how hard and long his bro pleads, Cassian swears fiercely. It's not good for his blood pressure!

Somewhere in his mind, a whisper insists dazzlingly that he was the one that reached out to Jyn, but he chooses to ignore it before drifting away.

[gghero]

🔥 pokemon and SU

OKAY THIS IS LONG. WAY LONGER THAN I EXPECTED. MORE THAN AN UNPOPULAR OPINION POST, IT TURNED INTO AN ALL-OUT OPINION POST

putting it under a cut; the pkm one is way longer and more detailed, SU is a plain ol unpopular opinion post and shorter so im putting it first.

SU:

honestly, i’ll be the first to say that the show is not perfect, that the characters cant stay on model (its still not enough to bother me or ruin everything because, cmon, im getting to watch the show for free) that the crew have made mistakes, that certain characters deserve better/worse, that certain lessons felt out of place, and all that jazz.

but hey, its not the worst thing to ever happen. i found SU while it was at its peak (late season 1 - early season 2, the best SU has ever been IMO) and even though im trying to not interact with the fandom anymore because of some toxic stuff that happened, i find myself enjoying the storyline, the worldbuilding is great and everything about the art style that is not proportions (backgrounds, palettes, character design) is arguably some of the best in current animation.

my beef with the fandom and most critical blogs is that the discourse sounds like the same stuff over and over and the general attitude is very snarky and condescending. my rule of thumb is that if youre going to critique something, you have to also give your ideas on what you would do in their place. i also felt talked down to everytime i interacted with them, and most people dont even know how to discuss things so any valid points they might bring up didnt phase me after rolling my eyes at their behavior. they also tend to treat their opinions as the objective truth - or only reblog from their fellow critic blog friends.

pokémon:

oh, pokémon. one of my most beloved video game franchises of all times. yet theyre not exempt from criticism. of course, none of what im about to say ruins the experience for me (otherwise, i wouldnt still play the games and making fanarts, DUH) 

the games. first of all i have to say that theyre incredibly engaging. i find myself caught up in the hype before a big reveal, preordering and picking up the new game as soon as it comes out, and then playing non-stop until im satisfied with it... and usually thats it. yeah. one of my biggest complaints about pokemon is how replayable the games COULD be, if only gamefreak did the simplest thing of just adding more save slots. of course, ive ended up deleting old save files in order to replay a game, and thanks to pokebank i can keep my babies, but cmon. all the items you collected, the complete pokedex, how far you went in the battle chateau/battle tree/etc... its all lost forever. the game would also be infinitely more replayable if the post game were more extensive (rather than being like “here, go to the battle building of this generation and battle”). i think implementing side quests or achievement unlocking that gives you in-game perks would add so much.

ALSO GAMEFREAK please stop adding and changing and removing features that we like every single generation!!!! i was not bothered by character customization being removed in ORAS because i understand its a remake and they wanted to keep something similar to the original designs of may/brendan but!!!!! The PSS was GREAT, but you replace it with festival plaza that was... not great!!! you take away pokemon amie, which allowed more experienced players to farm hearts very fast via the minigames!!! you took away the super training!!!!! it makes it look like they dont know what theyre doing, and i understand that they want to shake things up, but i stg if we dont get ride pokemon in gen 8 and instead we are back to HMs, im gonna scream.

my next complaint is how... small the games feel. im not asking for an open world yet (short answer; yes i believe its doable) but the amount of hand holding and tutorials in the last games bothers me, not to mention how limited the exploring feels when compared with older games? dont get me wrong, the gym/trials system is not bad per se - its mostly the map, its soo so so tiny and easy to navigate. i feel like they could look at earlier zelda and mario games and do something similar; an exploration mechanic like twilight princess’s would work so well. you have huge areas to explore while keeping it closed-world, and i never found myself getting tired of roaming around hyrule. in comparison, routes in pokemon feel very small, towns especially are SO tiny, and pokemon is a franchise that would REALLY benefit from the sense of adventure that non-linear larger maps offer.

next is the art direction. im definitely not a genwunner; i think some pokémon designs are good, others are not as good, but i dont have a huge bias towards, say, kanto (kanto’s good designs are good, but kanto’s bad designs are the worst, if it makes sense?) if i had to choose, i’d say gen 2, 3 and 4 are the ones that better represent what i want pokemon to look like in general, but that might be because i love monster-like pokemon like ampharos, swampert, garchomp - huge and bulky-looking pokemon - rather than pokemon that look too much like regular animals or inanimate objects. 

human character design is also good. they have been doing great in terms of racial diversity lately, but i do wish there were more “not-paper-thin skinny” characters (especially women) (and the ones that are fat/obese dont look suspiciously more cartoony/comic relief-y than the main characters); and older characters as well, specially women. 

i think my fave art direction is from black/white (1 and 2), the stylisation, clothes design and especially color palettes were gorgeous. i like a lot how the eyes and highlights/shading looked in black/white (1 and 2) - i think it was Take who did most of the art, instead of Sugimori and Ohmura.

(im sorry but im feeling the top image squad look much more)

my biggest complaint about pokemon’s art direction is that the 3D simply doesnt look its best as of now. im not a fan of the pixel-y black outline all models have, the colors of most pokemon in their 3D models look so washed down in general, and the backgrounds really suffer from this. i must say that changing the angle from a zenit POV to a third person camera in sun/moon was a step in the good direction, you get to see further in the distance and feel like the world is immersive. 

the color palettes for backgrounds could be better too, they have definitely taken a step in the wrong direction and went from this:

(pretty, muted but not extremely pastel or washed down; nice colors, those greens and browns are gorgeous - and yeah sorry about the bottom pic having a slight filter on, but cmon, its not like base game looks much different, remember?)

to this:

(aggressive colors, dont give me a sense of harmony, that extremely orange dirt and sky and almost neon green grass make my head hurt)

i have to say i preferred how the pixel-y, half 2d half 3d style of gen 4 and 5 looked, imo its the best pokemon has ever looked, but they clearly dont have the technology to make breathtaking, fully 3D games yet. i’d say its a necessary evil though so im hopeful for the future. and no, i dont want hyperrealistic textures or pokemon designs either (pokken style is so detailed it feels a little uncanny valley at times, specially with less realistic pokemon like gengar or gardevoir). ideally, pokemon will look like breath of the wild’s 3D character models, with that watercolor-ish style, the cell shading and the vibrant vivid colors. AND NO OUTLINES PLEASE.

finally the last point about the games is the storylines. I generally like pokémon storylines. they’re very good when you are caught up in the action, specially as of late, theyre adding cutscenes and dialogue-heavy scenes that dont feel out of place. but i cant bring myself to LOVE THEM as much as i love other videogame storylines. they still feel a little basic (this is not a problem because of the game’s formulaic nature, mind you) and while they havent shied away from more mature elements in the past, the overall tone is a little immature at times with a big huge plot heavy climax thrown in, and thats it. (and before you tell me pokemon is for kids: i know, but other shows and games for kids dont fall in the same plain secondary characters rut as pokemon does.) i would love for the Main character to have some sort of agency too because i feel like im following what other characters decide for me (at least give me dialogue options that, you know, DONT YIELD THE SAME DIALOGUE NO MATTER WHICH YOU CHOOSE).

thats about all i have to say about the games themselves. not gonna talk about anime or manga bc im not really into those

as for the fandom... its generally chill. its huge, but its divided in so many sub-groups that you never feel overwhelmed. the competitive community might be more toxic ive heard, but im more into the plot and characters anyways.

i do have to call out the huge p///edophilia problem there is. being a franchise most people grew up with, characters like idk, misty, may, dawn (its girls more often than not) were older or the same age as most of the older fans were back in the day. as a result, they have obsessed with their image since they were kids, and this obsession has continued now that theyre grown ass people, and they have no problem consuming and producing huuuge amounts of porn for these characters. as for the latest games, these disgusting people have even less excuse (not that they ever had) there’s tons of CP and adult x minor ships out there, and its allowed to thrive more often than not because of the sheer size of the fandom, too.

PHEW.