#this post itself is not in earnest except for that i do think things like this correlate with [oops; writers have Unknowingly written about | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mannatea · 1 year

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Break Open the Sky, a Tales of Symphonia ‘fic

Words: 4,570 words (Chapter 1) Summary: What kind of “Hero” of Regeneration would she be to leave an infant to fend for itself? Someone had to have left it here for a reason. The question was, of course, why? But as she lifted the little thing carefully into her arms, the motion reminding her of nights so far in the past, now, the why seemed almost tragically clear: this baby was of mixed blood. Pairing/Characters: Raine, Original Characters, will also feature Genis, Regal, and Sheena. Endgame is Regal/Raine. Extra Info: This is technically an Accidental Baby Acquisition story, but I liken it more to “Doorstep Baby” literature because it sure ain’t cute. Rating: Mature, for themes. More about this in the notes. Genre: It’s hard to squeeze this into a genre or two. Eventual romance, gen, family, character study.

The title is the link to Ao3! If you read it please feed me a little comment. I love you. ♥

Notes below the cut:

This story takes place 5 years post-game. Raine is traveling alone. Genis is in Palmacosta. Regal is in Altamira. Kate and Presea are in Ozette. Sheena is in Mizuho, Zelos is mostly in Meltokio, and Lloyd and Colette are still exsphere hunting together with occasional help and tips from their friends.

This 100% ignores DotNW except tiny tidbits I might want to steal from it.

I think we all know how much I like Raine as a character and love exploring it. This is another story like that, but with 11 planned chapters and even a potential sequel on the horizon. What can I say? I dream big.

This story relies quite heavily on a theme brought up in the game: “How can we regenerate the world when we can’t even save the people suffering right in front of us?” This theme is brought up over and over by both Lloyd and Colette. I’ve thought before of Raine’s sacrifice in-game to ensure Lloyd lives. There is something so incredibly poignant about the fact that for the first time in her life she puts her trust in someone else, and she doesn’t just do this in words, but actions as well. She thinks she will die but believes fully that her death is aiding a cause she also believes in. Raine does not trust people; this is established time after time in the game, but she lets herself believe in Lloyd & Colette’s earnest way of living, which refuses to accept that they have to choose between saving the world and saving people that live in the world: they can do both.

Later, after the hallucination scene, she admits she needs to change—that she wants to change. This is a story showcasing that attempt to change.

I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that Raine is a character who has had a lot of trauma dumped into her lap over her lifetime, and who has been given absolutely no time in the canon to process any of it in a healthy way. Even post-game she has to continue to raise her brother and canonically puts both of them on a journey that can only result in more trauma (even if they themselves also do a lot of good for the world).

I don’t want to mislead anyone with this story: the very concept of Raine acquiring a baby is grounds for the reemergence of trauma from her childhood that has never been properly dealt with.

She does not want a baby, but she also can’t bring herself to be unfeeling or uncaring; she’s stuck in a bad position but still by nature a very responsible person.

Let’s talk themes.

The biggest theme this story will be exploring is the idea that love (feeling it for others, for yourself, and letting others love you) can break bad, tragic, or harmful cycles.

Also, saving the people right in front of you. Of course. ;) (But sometimes that person is actually yourself, and that’s okay.)

This story will definitely be exploring a lot of other themes and ideas, many of which are unpleasant or may be triggering. I’ve tagged the story with a few of them, but here is a more complete list:

adoption

abandonment/child abandonment

childhood trauma

healing (from trauma)

found family/chosen family

fantasy racism (there will be a lot of subtle hints of this too)

discussion/mention of infanticide

change/growth

trust

guilt

identity outside one’s relationship to others

poverty

mentions of assault/violence/sexual violence

threats of sexual violence/rape

the cost of the art/magic of healing

THERE WILL BE A LOT OF ORIGINAL CHARACTERS FOR THE FIRST FEW CHAPTERS. I cannot stress this enough. I’m sorry; I would avoid it if I could, but this is the sort of story that requires them. I’ll try to keep a list per chapter in my notes here in case it gets confusing.

Baby (infant left with Raine; not named yet)

Ruth (old woman in Luin visiting her daughter, Lora)

Dr. Newbury (schoolmaster of the East Side Luin School; acquaintance of Raine. She calls him “Mr.” Newbury since he refuses to accept she is a professor)

Mrs. Browning (heavily pregnant woman in town, someone Dr. Newbury said was about to give birth)

Tommy (Mrs. Browning’s son)

Miss Tanner (Tommy’s teacher)

The Talbots (farmers who bring milk to town to sell it most mornings)

Ms. Leybourn (the second person Dr. Newbury said was about to give birth)

Miss Taff (schoolmistress of the West Side Luin School)

That’s all for now, but of course...if anyone has any questions or concerns please feel free to message me (anon is on as always if you’re more comfortable) or comment here.

Feedback/Comments/Criticism over at Ao3 would be incredible, even if it’s just a few words.

Thanks so much!

#tales of symphonia #raine sage #mannafics

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biblioflyer · 1 year

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Autonomy vs Institutionalism in Picard

Those who have read more than a few posts here will quickly recognize that I've been hammering away at a theme.

Each season of Picard has kind of had its own themes although two in particular seem to cross seasons: the first being relationship repair.

The first season focused on Picard's own tendency to hold people at a distance and express his affection and feelings in the modality of a starship Captain. Every encounter early in the season is about Picard, his cause, and his needs and a lot of those early conversations: with Clancy, with Raffi, with Elnor, probably others still, go very sour because Picard can only praise their competencies and how those competencies will serve his mission.

To some extent it was also about rediscovering hope and rebuilding the capacity to hold oneself to a higher standard.

The second season is much more about intimacy and the recognition that other people need to be given space to find their own way, even if that way isn't exactly what you would choose for them. This is really where I think Picard's stubbornness about Starfleet really comes into play because he just doesn't quite get Seven's discomfort with Starfleet outside of Voyager, or that perhaps pushing Raffi back to ship service may have been a mistake because psychologically she just wasn't ready for high stakes and its also just not where her skill set is at its strongest. Who could fathom James Bond as the XO of a naval warship?

The third is more intergenerational. Its at its strongest I think with Geordi recognizing that there is a time to set aside the maximalist protective role of the parent and to protect your child at their side rather than by trying to limit their autonomy. I don't really see a lot of point in talking about Jack because "Last Generation" makes it pretty explicit.

And that is a good segue to talk about moral authority and how Star Trek Picard has dealt with it.

I'm not going to back over every piece of evidence that I've written extensively about, but suffice to say that virtually every last episode of Picard except for the very last is a critical examination of whether Starfleet and the Federation are the omniscient do-gooders of lore or if there are other sources of moral authority than acting as an agent of the state aboard a big shiny starship. Now I find little that is actually contrary to the idea that Picard, the character, or various crews of various starship Enterprises were good actors, merely that a starship full of cool gizmos and profoundly earnest people is one but not the only vector through which good works can be done.

This is why it left me feeling a little weird about ending with Raffi, Seven, and Jack all in Starfleet and all in ship service. Especially since those characters each in their own way have done the most to make the argument that Starfleet does not have a monopoly on moral authority and that its very nature means that Starfleet does things in a very institutional and procedural way. After all, Starfleet officers are agents of a state and what they do or don't do will be viewed as not just their own idiosyncratic whims but as an expression of the will of the Federation itself.

This institutional and procedural pathway allows the Federation to organize vast resources in a relatively responsible way (when it doesn't get hoodwinked by Romulan deepcover agents or Changelings operating at a very high level....which is a major liability for this sort of highly centralized institution) but because of protections in place to ward off making tragic errors analogous to the colonialism of Earth, its own rules of engagement make it unresponsive to a whole host of problems that fall outside its mandate.

Picard the series wasn't shy about showing us these problems and how others, like the Fenris Rangers, take it upon themselves to address these problems and how they have to invent their own rules of engagement as they're in the act because they don't have the luxury of sitting back and having a philosophical discussion in a conference room.

The grand finale didn't exactly refute this theme, but I think it undermined it at least a little by pushing Jack, Raffi, and Seven into command chairs. Now as I have seen pointed out, this is in many ways a moment with a lot of symbolism. Its the Next Next Generation.

A torch passing. Indeed I think while Picard the series did a good job of problematising heroic narratives about Space Paladins and their mighty chrome steeds, I would be remiss if I didn't think that there is also a part of me that kind of likes the unapologetic "great hits" album that was the finale.

The problem with deconstructions is that they can veer into nihilism very easily. The Star Wars sequel trilogy looms over everything else like a shadow because there's this stubborn reminder that nothing anyone does will actually making the setting better in a lasting way. If our heroes don't fail and become more broken versions of themselves (except Leia, you kept up the fight) then in spite of their best efforts they or their successors are doomed. The Mandoverse is a post apocalyptic setting focused on rebuilding that doesn't know its destined for another apocalypse that will set fire to everything they achieve.

And that's just not what Star Trek has ever been about. Every dark future has been something to be struggled about and overcome by reasserting moral clarity in the present.

This is where I find some small comfort in Shaw's final performance evaluation of Seven, contrasting their methods, and observing that Starfleet has become a very by the book kind of institution without really recognizing what the point of it all is. Whereas Seven flouts rules that don't fit the scenario. There's a whole other conversation to be had about whether Seven was relentlessly reckless this season (and I have debated that in more than a few posts myself) and I have usually landed on the side that Seven's too individualistic.

On the other hand if what's being gestured at in Shaw's evaluation is a return to a level of autonomy and permission to follow your conscience of say, the Kirk era or even how Picard often got away with breaking the Prime Directive when he thought it was absurd, then there is a lot of symbolism in "a spy, a pirate, and a thief" being given a new Enterprise.

I feel like that was the narrative intent there: to show that Starfleet is learning and returning to its roots, it just sort of feels a little bit like a way to put a bow on a season that was too restrictive in its runtime and budget to bring in all of the legacy characters that ought to have made an appearance (Janeway, Wesley, Elnor, Jurati, - the cut scene where Ro is discovered captive and alive) as well to provide a better resolution of both character arcs and themes.

To beat a dead horse, this fandom belongs to everyone. The nostalgic TNG-ers, the people who supported Picard seasons 1 and 2, the people who followed Worf into DS9, and the Voyager fans. Considering there's every reason to be pessimistic about more 25th century live action, it wouldn't have killed Paramount to fork over enough cash for two more episodes to deliver the goods for all of the fans and to make a less abrupt transition from the themes and arguments of the first 29 episodes of Picard to where we land in episode 30.

#star trek picard #star trek ethics #star trek #picard spoilers #picard season 3 #seven of nine #jack crusher #raffi musiker

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nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 1 year

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dont know if i love or hate what i just wrote

I had written up a little list of "possible future jobs" a few days ago, and it just struck me today that one of the items was, "social anthropologist." (I guess they call this "cultural anthropology?")

It's the perfect job, in my opinion. (Not really a job, I mean, just a hobby. But a perfect hobby, I mean.) People don't need me to know any specific cultures or languages, they just have a vague image in their mind of what a "social anthropologist" is and can imagine me fitting that bill.

I think of myself as one of those "intellectuals" (which is itself a self-image I have, and which I often express by writing pompous, overblown, and over-earnest posts like this one on my tumblr) who knows a lot of things that are "in the public domain," and doesn't need to pay any attention to that fact at all, as long as I continue to use the knowledge like a "public property" and don't try to claim any particular intellectual ownership of it. (To be clear, that's basically what I already do, I'm just putting these sentiments to paper and saying they're what I would actually want.)

What I like about it is that it's very "pure." There are lots of ways that pure-types like me can earn a living, but one of the most pure -- the purest form of the sort of lifestyle I have and am aiming for -- is one of those jobs that you can do with no credentials or education, but with basically unlimited opportunities for further learning, as long as you have a big, creative mind. There's no need for you to prove yourself in the usual way in order to have the chance to prove yourself; it just exists, and you have the opportunity to be creative and find out new things and see new places and be inspired and learn and grow, without needing to make a career out of it or have it be your whole identity. (There are exceptions. If you are in a field that is very closely linked to academia, you won't have as much freedom there. If you're in a field you know nothing about yet, you won't have as much. But overall, you can pretty much just... be what you are, and do things, and do them well enough that people will hire you to learn about things.)

I'd like to think I'll find this kind of thing out by default and have a relatively early success story as a "pure-type" social anthropologist, because, like, why not?

That's my ideal career, anyway

#if you're stalking me read this #this post was written before i even knew the phrase ''cultural anthropologist''#but it's still my ideal

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titoist · 2 years

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what the fuck is wrong with you

mmm, that is a remarkably broad question in and of itself. to properly, succinctly answer, i would first need a proper context as to what initiated this line of thinking, as to be able to place it into perspective - but, seeing as how that piece of information is impossible to obtain within the circumstances of this scenario, my reply will have to make due without it. though, really, this ask could mean any number of things when atomized to oblivion, i will carry onwards with 2 - barebones but nonetheless understandable - *central* presumptions, to be kept in mind when formulating a response; 1. that this sentiment is meant in a derisive - perhaps not shocked, but relatively appalled and/or revolted - tone 2. that you - or, 'the sender of this ask', if one desires to speak in a detached, clinical tone - submitted this as not an *actual* question, not one that was meant to be taken seriously, as more of a way to vent your frustrations about what you deemed to be a profoundly detestable part of my character. now that those presumptions are out in the open, detailed, i suppose i can continue. still, i find myself squaring back to the central issue that i am unable of locating precisely what is the object of scorn here. i can take a few educated guesses - perhaps you deemed the post about Rhodesia distasteful, or the one about Manchuria(which, i admit, was objectionable on some level, but i justify as having been treated through the lens of deleuzian schizoanalysis) as deeply concerning, or, perhaps, you just thought the ataturk post was weird? i do not struggle to imagine why one would think so about any of those, aside from the obvious stipulation that they are meant to be *performance*, more often than not. the truth is that i treat this blog as a private diary, journal, in which i do not really expect anyone to read my writings, and all posts thereof are either an acknowledgement or fulfillment of that fact - or both. i used to resign myself to just impotently reflecting my own misery, when i would see this ask and earnestly connect with it as something relevant to my being, but i’m doing...relatively okay now. i’m capable of believing that i can make my soul a kind enough thing that this the attitude of believing there is something 'wrong' with me is simply incapable of having anything to do with it, & thus i do not really feel any need to 'retaliate' at you, not even suppressedly. i doubt there even exists a sort of value in this type of communication, no real happiness - except, perhaps, substitutes for happiness, or a kind of sisyphean pursuit of relief that never comes, at best. i imagine you might read that sentiment & just categorize it in with a distinct shallow & cloying sense of “wholesomeness” which tends to permeate the public internet - since you lack any *real* reason to distinguish me as an interlocutor from the general mass of internet users. still, i urge you to perceive it with serious thought. i sincerely, truly, doubt that you will be here, reading this answer an odd hour or so after the act of sending it had been done and completed. but.. it’s still important to me that i attempt to make an example of this by trying in earnest to take it somewhere more substantive than you wanted and tried to. i say all of this, though it might be long winded and dry, in the interest of trying to perform & communicate alternatives to both what you’re doing as well as the type of performatively embittered “comebacks” that plenty of other people might send. it is very, deeply possible that this whole exercise is just notably histrionic, & indicates an unsubstantiated belief i have of how much i can actually do in this specific, unremarkable communicative scenario, like i'm gonna "open your eyes" with the snap of a finger or somesuch. if not that, maybe i can just crush the seeming negativity of your message through this exercise of trying to visibly humanize myself. sniffs nose and rubs back of hand. so i guess i don't know.

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asphodelical · 3 months

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The Great Anime Rewatch of 2024 - Part V

Casshern Sins

First watched: January 2014 Rewatched: January 2024

Original rating: 6 New rating: 4

Prior to this rewatch, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you anything about Casshern Sins. It might’ve been better if it had stayed that way. While watching the first episode, I couldn’t stop complaining how bad the writing was. It feels like the creative team was banking on the show’s style and atmosphere to compensate for its weak dialogue, and I’m not falling for it. The thing I will fall for is the music. It’s really good. But if I want a post-apocalyptic story about robots having existential crises, I’ll stick with Nier: Automata, thank you very much. I lasted five episodes.

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Claymore

First watched: December 2011 Rewatched: February 2024

Original rating: 7 New rating: 5

The writing is basic and everything is mid. If one of your deuteragonists is an audience avatar with no personality, that’s not good. Then on episode five we completely switched POVs out of nowhere, and we barely know anything about our original duo. It feels like the author was stalling for time while they figure out what do to with Claire and Raki. I lasted five episodes.

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Boku no Hero Academia 1, 2, & 3

First watched: 2016, 2017, 2018 - all original airdates Rewatched: February 2024

Original ratings: 7, 8, 8 New ratings: 7, 7, 4

I remember enjoying BnHA, but I never got swept up by the hype. I’m not really into superhero stuff to begin with, and the sub-genre is so oversaturated, the stories almost feel like parodies of itself. Anyway, let’s try this again, and not on a weekly basis. (I refuse to rewatch season four since I didn’t like it much.)

Season 1 - I find it extremely hard to believe that every single student made it out of that big villain ambush with light injuries. At least one kid should’ve been killed or, at the very least, extremely traumatized. But what I appreciate most is that the characters are smart and actually use their powers creatively and intelligently. I still don’t understand why Mineta exists, though. No one likes him. He should’ve died.

Season 2 - BnHA’s strengths and weaknesses are in full swing now. Its highs consist of the sports festival/tournament arc, Bakugo and Deku vs. All Might, and the conversation between Deku and Shigaraki. As for the weaknesses? Well, the neglect of the female characters was thriving. I really don’t like Creati (she can create anything except a decent outfit), but I pitied her—getting roped into a hero internship and do nothing but beauty ads? What the actual fuck? After the Stain stuff, my interest was diminishing and I was skipping bits of almost every episode. Bakugo is my favorite character, and fuck that dog police chief.

Season 3 - Now I’m actively skipping episodes. It’s starting to get redundant at this point (more exams???), the cast is so large it’s collapsing on itself, and there’s no sense of loss. Why should I care about any fight when everyone gets to walk away alive, completely intact, and fine in every sense of the word? This was less evident when I watched these seasons as they aired weekly with lengthy breaks in between. The pacing problem is also exacerbated now, with the stupid forest training bit taking up the first seven episodes, when it probably could’ve been three or four. (I skipped most of them, hence the ‘probably.’) Meanwhile, the villains don’t actually accomplish anything. There’s no reason for me to take them seriously. And the heroes aren’t developing—their powers aren’t escalating or changing, and neither are they as people. The only character who gave me what I want is Bakugo in his fight with Deku.

BnHA is weird, because in this world where nearly everyone has a power, I think it went down one of the most uninteresting directions possible. The cast is far too large, and can’t juggle them all, despite its earnest effort to do so. And while suspension of disbelief is always required in things like superhero stories, I feel like there’s not enough loss. That’s partially due to the nature of the demographic, but stories like these shouldn’t be so terrified of whittling down/killing off its bloated cast. What if some of the UA students felt traumatized from fighting with real villains, or decide that they want to change career paths? Or a former hero student who turned to villainy? It’s a shame that those things aren’t explored.

I still had a pretty good time with the first two seasons, but found myself emotionally apathetic to most of the cast.

The only ones I actively care about: Bakugo, Deku, and Shigaraki.

The characters I enjoy but am not particularly invested in: Froppy, Tokoyami, Todoroki, Ochako.

Bypassing season four, will I give season five a chance? Not sure, since season three was painful to rewatch. From overall fan opinion, the story and writing seem to get worse, and I spoiled myself with Bakugo and am very disappointed to see sacrifices gone to waste and being brought back from the fucking dead.

#anime

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lets-donate-a-kidney · 4 months

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Did my final pre-screening before surgery today! I went to the hospital two weeks before the actual surgery so they could confirm I'm still healthy. For this visit they only needed an EKG, blood draw, and urine sample. Everything came out normal.

The transplant team also used this visit to tell me more about what to expect:

Lead-up to surgery:

In about a week, I can pick up my painkiller prescription for after surgery.

On the day before surgery, I'll be on a clear liquid diet. That means tea, water, coffee, and other drinks with no solids are okay. No juice with pulp, or solid food.

After midnight, I'm not supposed to eat or drink anything except for the fancy carb drink (Ensure) that they gave me. They want me to drink that between midnight and my arrival at the hospital.

The point of this is to reduce the risk of aspiration (stomach fluid entering the lungs) during my surgery, and speed up recovery time afterward. Abdominal surgery is pretty tough on your stomach!

They also gave me an anti-bacterial body wash (Hibiclens) they want me to use the morning of surgery to minimize the risk of infection later.

The surgery itself

They want me to arrive on December 27th at 5am(!), and the surgery itself will start at 7am.

I'll get a chance to meet with the surgeon, nurses and anesthesiologist and discuss any last questions/concerns. I can change my mind at the last second if I choose - they reminded me there's no obligation - but I'm quite sure of my decision.

I'll change into a gown, get wheeled back to the operating room, they'll stick me with the needle, and then it's lights-out time.

The operation takes about 2-3 hours. After that, I'll be monitored closely in the PACU (Post-Anesthesia Care Unit) so they can make sure I wake up on time and no immediate issues arise. After I wake up in the PACU, I'll probably have to wait another 4-6 hours before they move me to a normal hospital room with more privacy.

Recovery

I'm likely to wake up with a scratchy throat (thanks to the oxygen mask they'll use while I'm in surgery), and definitely with a catheter and IV needle to make sure I don't get dehydrated. They'll give me painkillers before I wake up, too.

The PACU doesn't allow visitors or have much privacy (only curtains), but I can have things brought in, like my phone and books.

The normal hospital room afterward does allow visitors. I'll also meet with several members of the transplant team afterward for discussing recovery and follow-up visits. I expect my biggest challenge will be just enduring all the people talking to me in one day!

They expect I'll be able to walk around almost immediately after waking up, and even encourage it (as long as I have someone watching in case I get dizzy). The sooner I walk after surgery, the sooner the digestive system will "wake up" and start functioning normally again.

I'll probably stay in the hospital for one night. The next morning they'll remove the catheter and, assuming there's no complications, I'll go straight home. A family member will be driving me, of course, and will stay with me at home for a few days.

Besides "don't move too fast or bend over if it hurts," and "don't lift anything over 10 pounds or do strenuous exercise," recovery should be pretty straightforward. Also, I'm planning to pick up some prune juice and Greek yogurt, as I've heard those can help a lot for post-surgery nausea and bloating.

Honestly, I think the hardest parts will be boredom, and dealing with all the professionals explaining things at me. I'm not afraid of pain - they can treat pain! But there is no treatment for a group of very earnest and well-meaning people asking you "Any questions?" and "Do you feel okay?" a dozen times in one day.

I don't blame them for it. I know they have to, and they ethically should, and most of their surgery patients are probably way more nervous and want more hand-holding than I do. Me, just give me a painkiller, my smartphone, and a book, and I'm happy. (And preferably a veggie burger. But that will have to wait till I'm out of the hospital.)

#kidney donation #organ transplant #kidney donor

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tempest-zephyr · 1 year

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I’m going to start posting art on here. I saw some video’s (down in read more) and they got more secure, confident and more inspired to do it. I got a tablet like at the beginning of the pandemic, but really only made like 2 or 3 finished drawings (i’ll post them some other time). No reason hold back even when they’re unfinished. It is what it is.

This is mainly about learning how to use the air soft brush to create those smoother soft transitions in shading (set opacity to something like 40% and light strokes as if spray painting something irl, use a full opacity eraser to make the hard edges, and then the smear tool to blend out any streaky-ness from the multiple strokes) and overcoming the mental block that using the symmetry tool somehow cheating. This is also for another idea I’m working on

Ref:

Videos I mentioned before:

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youtube

Sloth & Greed Section- 3:53 No one’s gonna make my ideas real except for me, so rather than bottling up those desires and letting them fade away forgotten, just do it. Lotta ideas I’ve been thinking about drawing that I think are cool, but letting them be ideas, stops you from moving on and obsessing over new ones and growing

Don’t let an overly strong ego turn into perfectionism and feeling disappointed with a piece that it freezes you into inaction like a deer in head lights, humility is accepting that you’re going to be bad at it, and going to make some very mid looking things. “You’re just shielding yourself from vulnerability”- I felt so called out by that.

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youtube

7:12 The learning process. don’t have overly high expectations for your skill bc that’s just a mental block that gatekeeps you from doing or making things you want. the people who are good at what you want to do it’s mainly cause they’ve put in 1000s of hours into it, only a part of it is talent, Don’t fall for the mental trap that you have to be “good enough” to start something or show off what you’ve working on. The earnestness and sincerity of working hard on something is valuable in itself.

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10:33 - Just take your time little by little, don’t worry about optimizing, or learning every tool under the sun that may be helpful. just take what you can from the guides you look at with what skill level you’re at in the present. Trying to Internalize everything in a guide isn’t necessary and probably makes it harder learn the 1-2 good things for your skill level, it’s just unrealistic.

“A few days after I picked up Tekken, I got on Twitter and posted a video of me hitting King’s most basic, unoptimized combo.

I did it!” I might have said.

And a passing commenter might have asked “Did what?”

This will be a pattern that repeats over your time in fighting games. You're gonna put a lot of effort into mastering things that, to outsiders, appear inconsequential, and to experts insignificant.

But that doesn’t mean it’s not an accomplishment. Good job.”

I did it!

Honestly learning the existence of using the air brush + opacity took me too long of a while because I didn't know where to begin to even look for a tutorial. Like what is this called? gradient shading? smudge smearing? Blending? I tried the smear tools and they only worked like 30% of the time to get anything close to what I wanted (I feel like if i knew what i was doing it could’ve worked more consistently, but i don’t sooo)

#art

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unproduciblesmackdown · 2 years

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winston billions autistic character validation!

1) rian refers to their not directly interacting as “parallel play”!

2) the writers let winston be obsessed with analyzing a movie that the showrunners consider as worth being obsessed with analyzing, but they make sure to have a more serious character, who has also been more earnestly & more often credited as smart & talented by other serious characters than winston has (despite that in his introduction taylor says he has “a genius level iq,” which may in turn be deliberately more indirect than stating “you may be a genius”, and thus potentially avoids acknowledging that winston as a person truly possesses genius by attributing it directly to him, & rather cites that claim of geniushood via a quantization / external source, while they would not themself necessarily support the conclusion), assert that winston is bad at analyzing / understanding the movie though!

#this post itself is not in earnest except for that i do think things like this correlate with [oops; writers have Unknowingly written about #irl autistic people who they didn't know were autistic / drawn from this Character Archetype which is itself born of people drawing from #real life people nd ppl that nt ppl unknowingly encounter all the time & regard as inferior / unlikable/unsympathetic / acting incorrectly]#winston billions #us joking that the textual confirmation we'd get from this series that Winston's Autistic is someone like dollar bill calling him r worded #cue the awards handed to us when s5 ep two has dollar bill stomp over & scream at winston that his Algorithm is r worded :)#that so far winston is a nonentity for romance; sex; maybe even friendship though rian may Approximate that (i.e. poss be as close as they #would be willing to right when he can't have ''real'' friends if it's a more Normal / Serious Character)#related to that point: that Any material w/winston that a serious character has will 95% of the time be a joke or Exposition for their own #material at the most serious and will Never lead to their existing relationship with winston becoming prominent or even seriously relevant #that all acknowledgment of his Smartness / Talent / Ability is rare; begrudging; backhanded; disclaimered; & may also be seen as actually #worthy of disdain (''total control of the instrument'' / ''sad.'' / [???]) & due to him cheating by being a Savant; doesn't even count :)#that we have at least one textual instance that *the doylean writing itself* regards winston as more inherently worthy of disdain & lacking #dignity than other characters; that his feelings also seem to be frivolous / a joke / Inconsequential as the fact that other people #deliberately bullying (to harassing / threatening / essentially physically attacking (thanks dollar bill)) & insulting & shutting down &#criticizing / discouraging winston on purpose over anything or nothing is not only something both sides Deserve but; despite our virtually #always being shown that winston is disheartened &/or hurt &/or distressed; this is never addressed as an issue save by him (like saying he's #Been hurt by rian needling him after she does it again out of absolutely nowhere) and is never anything with lasting impact that anyone else #has to deal with or acknowledge or consider.....and so much more #and of course i have reasons i've immediately gone (oh my god this is the most relatably He's Autistic moment of my life) from the start #i.e. back when watching the season three clips for the first time; and continued to feel that way since; that have nothing to do with the #way the writers & thus by extension ''serious'' characters in the show seem to regard / judge / treat him #but this post is from the other angle lol #also this makes me think of an [actual parallel play] instance from my life where ppl were incredibly mean to me afterwards but i didn't #even quite catch on that it involved that contempt until like months later. not Just a friendlily ribbing nickname ;0

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greensaplinggrace · 3 years

Note

do you have any darklina fic recs?

I certainly have a few! But first I want to clarify that I don’t really read fic when I’m writing it, and since I have so many fics in the works right now, I haven’t really been reading a lot of fanfiction. So this list probably won’t be as extensive as it could be.

Here are some other great fic recommendation posts, however:

DARKLINA FIC RECS by @vicioux

DARKLINA FIC RECS // part ii by @vicioux

Darklina Ruling the World Together Fic Recs by @clubofthestarlesssaint

Tumblr Ficlets

Aleksander’s First Memory by @kestrafagnor

Fivan Talk About Darklina by @jomiddlemarch

a little light in the great, big dark by @valkyrhys

Alina tells Mal she’s with Aleksander by @lorsanbitch

Darklina week day 5: intimacy & touch by @starlesscne

AO3 Fanfiction

if it ain’t me by larry_hystereks (Incomplete - 10/13 Chapters)

alina’s in her second year at Yale when she meets aleksander at one of his frat parties.

a hookup with the potential for more, only if alina wasn’t still struggling to piece herself together from last year’s breakup.

or: alina, zoya, their trust issues, and the men that fall for them

---

I’m only at about chapter 6 of this fic currently, but so far it’s one of my all time favorite Modern AUs. The characterization for Alina and Aleksander is incredibly well done, and the entire fic itself is so feminist and queer in such a refreshing way. Aleksander and Alina are bisexual as fuck, both with their own separate complex lives, and much of Alina’s own traumas and relationships are explored outside of Aleksander.

There’s some Zoyalina, with Nikolina friendship and endgame Zoyalai. There’s some mystery and some tension, but nothing too extreme, and a lot of the fic is merely an exploration in growth and overcoming one’s history and learning how to move on in healthy ways. I love it.

She Wears a Collar (With My Name) by Ceris_Malfoy (Complete)

She is immortal, and whatever lingering hints of humanity she may have once had have long been bleached from her heart.

I will grant you one wish, boy, if it is in my power to do so. What does a Shadow Smith most want?

"You," he answers.

Written for Darklina Week 2021 - Day 2: Role Reversal

---

This piece is just exquisite. This author’s writing style is one that I particularly enjoy. Their stuff is always so uniquely composed and crafted, and this one especially is a work of art. The way Darklina as a relationship is portrayed in particular is fascinating to me because it’s a role reversal but it’s still so complex. Aleksander’s character is nailed.

the bright sun was extinguish’d by athousandwinds (Complete)

Somewhere, deep in the dark forests of Ravka, a boy grows up on stories of Sankta Alina of the Wastes, the Sun-Scorched Saint.

---

This fic is just straight up magnificent. It’s so engaging and I love love love the way a role reversed Aleksander who joins the army is portrayed. He reminds me so much of Demon in the Woods Aleksander, as if he’s exactly what a grown version of that young boy would be. When I say I adore his characterization in this I’m not lying.

If I wanted any completed fic I’ve read to have a second chapter, it would be this one.

Winter in the Little Palace by redisxwing (Complete)

Written for Yuletide 2020.

Baghra and Alina's wildly different perspectives on the Darkling, and how things could have gone if nobody listened to Baghra.

Warning: Baghra is written as a harsh and arguably abusive parent, and this is darkfic about that relationship, with a side of shipping. Everything is terrible (except the parts that are pretty much okay).

Canon divergence pretty much as soon as Alina gets lessons in summoning.

This fic is likely not compatible with King of Scars (or any subsequent work).

---

As is said in the summary, this one makes Baghra a bit more extreme. If you’re a fan of Baghra, this fic probably isn’t for you. But since I’m not a fan of Baghra, I had no problems with it.

My biggest praise for this fic is in regards to the character interactions and the POVs. There’s a brilliant grasp of unique perspective and how to convey it, and that talent is carried over into the way character interactions are brought to life in the text. Also, there’s a scene where Alina gets kind of protective of the Darkling, which is one of my biggest weaknesses when it comes to Darklina.

Good Ideas by FelixRivers (Complete)

Alina Starkov had a very good idea. Aleksander Morozova would definitely agree. (or: Alina wants to go camping and Aleksander won't complain)

---

This fic is just straight up adorable and hilarious. They’re such a cute couple and Alina’s POV is great. It’s just pure fluff and humor 💕

I’m not a bad girl, but I do bad things with you by SanktaJenya - @sankta-arya (Complete)

Winter had been hard on Old Baghra and Ana Kuya was worried about her, so she decided that Alina should make the trip to her cottage on the other side of the woods to bring her some food and kvas. On her way there, Alina meets a stranger...

Darklina Red Riding Hood/Company of Wolves AU

Darklina Week, Day 4, Fairytales

---

This fic has a splendid grasp of tension and atmosphere. It’s very enchanting and dark and intriguing, and it nails those aspects with absolute precision. I love the style and the way the fairytale is incorporated into the narrative. It’s truly a masterpiece.

The Wretched by @aceofnowhere (Complete)

“We are strangers, but I want to help.” He growls at her, mocking and mistrustful. “I understand,” she said. “You think I am one of them. I certainly look like one of them. But I want to help you. Will you let me?” Prompt: fairytale. Alina saves a dragon.

---

Okay so I’ve mentioned this one before as one of my Top 5 fics of all time and I still stand by that. I can’t even describe why I love this fic so much except that the pacing is amazing and the prose is stunning and the story is beautiful. Aleksander is a dragon and Alina is a witch, and their relationship is just so...interesting and fascinating and lovely. I would literally kill for this fic. There’s such a softness to it as well. Such a tenderness. Idk, I just really love it.

Show Me Who You Are (I Want To Know) by Ceris_Malfoy (Incomplete - 12/?)

Alina takes her future in her own hands and makes her own decisions.

---

This is a great “what if Alina had stuck around after the reveal” rewrite. It doesn’t have Mal bashing and in fact still writes them as close friends, which is something I’m fond of in Darklina fics. Aleksander is allowed to be soft and Alina is allowed to be powerful, and I really enjoyed the take on their dynamics as a power couple wherein Alina is given a lot of control.

There’s something to be said for the way Aleksander is written in the scenes where he must be honest and earnest with Alina. I really enjoy the way they both come to equal ground, and I’m even more fond of the way Alina is allowed to grow darker without losing her light. She also engages a lot with quite a few other characters, developing tons of friendships and alliances on her own that help strengthen her as an individual character.

on this bridge between starshine and clay by @rhea-imagined (Complete)

"His breath narrows for a moment, his fist clenched tight before he forces himself to loosen it. She is his only opportunity for salvation, but vulnerability is not a cape he wears easily. “In those days, there was less prejudice against Shadow Summoners. But everyone fears the dark, in one way or another.” He does not look at her as he waits for the penny to drop, half-hoping it stays suspended in the air."

In which Alexander comes clean to Alina and tells her about his true identity in hopes that this will help convince her to take down the Fold.

A rewrite of the fountain scene in episode four, with a good!Darkling that is trying to make amends.

---

This is my all-time favorite good!Aleksander AU. He’s kept in character despite the major changes made to his motivations, and Alina is given a lot more agency in her own story. It’s the first fic in what might become a series, but it can stand alone beautifully.

I love how Aleksander and Alina’s relationship is allowed to grow tense without breaking, and how it’s a clear sign of change but not abandonment. I love how both characters are able to think for themselves and become self-aware and are given the chance to think critically. I love the character interaction so much because it’s honest and fresh and engaging. Everything from the smallest action to the most off-hand thought is in character and meaningful and incorporated with an amazing style of writing. It’s a very refreshing piece, and the writing only makes it that much better.

Bunnies of a Feather Stitch Together by Ill_Ratte (Complete)

"Just as Alina called to the light, gathering and twisting it into a ball in her hands, the door swung open.

Kirigan blacked out the door frame. His appearance enough would have surprised Alina, but there was something clutched in his arm, something dark and floppy. It almost looked like the stuffed toys that had been passed around to the younger Orphans." - Alina and The Darkling bond over a love of soft things

---

Soft stuffed animal shenanigans. Bits of trans!Aleksander, which I’m very fond of, as well as just a lot of fluff with a bit of something bittersweet and sad in a good way.

Half Lie by Ill_Ratte (Complete)

"Baghra always talked of the demon that had stolen her daughter." Or, Alina learns the hard way that the Darkling isn't the only one who deals in half-truths

---

This one is trans!Aleksander, and it handles it in a very interesting way. It’s quite sad, and deals a lot with Baghra & Aleksander’s relationship through Alina’s POV. I want to give a warning for transphobia, because it does center around that a lot as the premise, but it really is worth the read if that isn’t a trigger for you. This is one of my favorite trans!Aleksander fics, and the way it handles emotion and grief and pain is quite extraordinary.

The CEO and Helioseismologist by mrthology (Complete)

Aleksander Morozova doesn't get sick. He's the CEO of one of the most successful companies in the world, one that he had built from the ground up with blood, sweat, and tears. He exercised daily (usually), maintained a healthy diet, and kept himself fit.

He wasn’t sick.

Too bad no one believed him. And too bad Genya decided to call Ivan to take him home before also calling Alina to take care of him.

Maybe, just maybe, being sick wasn't so bad. Especially not when he has such a wonderful girlfriend.

---

Both of the fics in this series are great, but I love this one in particular because I’m an absolute sucker for hurt/comfort. Anyone who’s been on my blog for a while knows that it’s my all time favorite trope to read, and this fic fits the hurt/comfort trope to a T in the best of ways. It’s very tender and in character, and Aleksander and Alina are so soft with each other. It’s adorable and really makes you feel for Aleksander, and the caretaking is done perfectly.

All the different layers of dark (thousand little suns) by Anuna (Complete)

One month after the Winter Fete, Aleksander returns to the Little Palace, and Alina has been missing him.

Episode five canon divergence in which Alina had never left Os Alta.

---

This one is soft emotional hurt/comfort smut. They’re both so open and vulnerable with each other, and it’s so beautiful to read. I love the writing style and the emotion in this one. It makes my heart ache in the best way.

An Honourable Man by liviy695 (Complete)

A reimagining of the scene after the winter fete. Alina catches a glimpse of a caring Darkling after he returns from integrating the Conductor. Plus, no Baghra interference.

---

This one is what it says on the tin, in that Baghra doesn’t interfere and they’re allowed to talk after the Darkling interrogates the Conductor. But more than that, it’s a great imagining of how a scene where Aleksander reveals Marie’s death would have gone. There’s a sort of quiet to it that I appreciate, with grief and solemnity weighed against care and vulnerability.

I see the real you (even if you don’t, I do) by Anonymous (Incomplete - 8/?)

A series of questionable decisions lead Alina to meet the Black General a bit earlier. Butterfly effect ensues.

---

I’ve only read half so far (I hadn’t realized it had updated!! 👀👀) but I’m already in love with this fic. Alina’s dialogue and perspective is perfect, her relationship with Mal and the other cartographers is great, and I really enjoy how much personality she has. Aleksander is so smitten, but more than that, his characterization is soft but not weak. It feels almost as if he’s swept up by Alina, instead of the other way around, and I quite like that.

Of parenting by Anuna (Complete)

Alina finds out how her husband handled yet another parenting situation.

---

This is pure adorable Darklina parenting fluff and I live for it. Yet it doesn’t lack depth and in fact explored Alina and Aleksander’s relationship with parenting quite well.

i have a longing by LRCee - @ladylyannastark (Complete)

“So, Alina Starkov, risk-taker, how did you end up being editing’s newest wunderkind?”

Alina Starkov is rising in the publishing world. Singlehandedly responsible for editing (see: rewriting) the hottest book of the year, she lands a coveted spot at Morovoz Publishers. It's the position she's always wanted, at the biggest publishing house in the country. Life is perfect. That crush on her boss though, that's gotta go.

---

OKAY! I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH!! Let me tell you, as someone who is not too fond of Boss/Employee dynamics, I was very wary going into this fic. But boy did it deliver in a way that was perfect for me.

The relationship that develops between Aleksander and Alina is complex but healthy, and it never feels as if there’s too much of a power imbalance or anything that would make Alina feel forced or unhappy. The tension lies purely in how she fears others will perceive her, and not in how unhealthy her relationship with Aleksander is. For somebody who’s often attracted to unhealthy ships, I have to say that my favorite fics are usually ones that don’t have that type of dynamic between the characters. This fic delivers on that.

Also, Aleksander’s POV surrounding his struggle with his Russian heritage and his feelings for Alina is amazing, and has some of the best writing and characterization I’ve seen.

You receive: an evil demon; I receive: human souls by @aceofnowhere (Complete)

The next morning while she tried to tell herself it was a dream, that of course there wasn’t a fucking demon in her house, she found a note taped to her fridge.

“You might eat this shit,” it had written, “but I would like some fucking souls please.”

Darkling Week Prompt 7: free choice. Alina has a demon in her house.

This is absolute crack, and I have no idea what the fuck is wrong with me.

---

May I just say that this is the most fun I’ve ever had when reading a fic. It’s interesting with a bit of mystery, and Aleksander as a little shit of a demon is hilarious. Alina in this fic is great too. It’s such a unique take on her POV, especially when you reread it after knowing the ending. 10000/10, this fic is brilliant in every way and I love it.

I had been lost to you, Sunlight by BrytteMystere (Complete)

A Girl became a Woman, became a Sankta, became a Goddess.

Or: An Immortal Alina calls upon merzost to reunite with the Prince of Shadows she lost long ago. She may have lost herself in the process.

But then again, maybe time and endless wars did that instead.

---

You really just have to read this one to get it. It is utterly haunting and fascinating in the best of ways. The writing style is strange and novel and fits so well with the story being told. The composition of the fic as a whole is genius.

I Look Inside Myself (And See My Heart Is Black) by Ceris_Malfoy (Complete)

"When is a monster not a monster? Why, when you love it, of course."

Written for Darklina Week 2021 - Day 6: Favorite Quote • King & Queen • Monster

---

Once more, this author comes through with an absolutely breathtaking writing style and story. The imagery is elegant yet brutal, simultaneously horrifying and glorious. There’s a certain way these stories are written, like fairytales, where the beautiful becomes the macabre and becomes ever more stunning because of it. It’s very dark but in a good way - an almost bewitching way.

Afterlife by @aceofnowhere (Complete)

“You are asking me to leave?”

“Not asking, shadow,” she said. “Telling. Time to get unlost, loser.”

Day 3 Darklina Week prompt: Modern AU (I mean, barely)

Alina expels ghosts from purgatory.

---

@aceofnowhere once again bringing the best of the paranormal to the Grishaverse. Literally everything you write is amazing idk why I’m even pointing out individual fics when I could just rec your whole page. But anyways!! This is fun and interesting and Alina is a badass. Aleksander is, of course, compelling and dark and kind of a little shit, and it’s all incorporated seamlessly into an existential paranormal narrative.

Once Upon a Shooting Star by Ceris_Malfoy (Complete)

"But most of all, she was drawn to a vast darkness that reached out above all of them, a void so hungry for companionship that she knew she could fulfill."

---

Let. Alina. Be. Feral!! Anyways, I clearly have a type when it comes to storytelling, and it’s whatever the fuck this person has got going on. Feral!Star!Alina is literally the light of my life. Her interactions with not only other people but the world in general are so well done, but my favorite parts about this fic are the numerous ways her relationship with Aleksander is described and depicted.

I love the dark and light imagery, especially with how it’s portrayed as them filling in the gaps of each other’s lives and supporting each other instead of trying to block each other out. There’s such clear passion and joy and love and devotion between them. The central focus of this fic is on her and Aleksander’s relationship, the interplay between them and their powers and the way her light fills his loneliness, the passing of adoration and trust and reliance between them. It’s very beautiful and I love it.

A Blaze of Light by Keira_63 (Complete)

They discover the Sun Summoner in the burnt-out remains of the Shu laboratory in which she has spent the last seven years of her life.

Or, the Darkling finds himself with a Sun Summoner whose greatest wish is to burn Shu Han to the ground. He is happy to oblige her.

---

👀👀 Badass Alina and Badass Aleksander. The ultimate power couple, and Alina burning a path through Shu Han before they both burn a path through the world together. The darkness and rage in this one are handled very well, and the way that rage turns to coldness and then resolve is done so well. This fic is very cathartic and also very furious, and reading it is certainly a trip down emotion lane.

One more for the Road by Rist (Complete)

He returns to the war room shaken, and finds an Alina that cannot leave without at least having tried.

---

This one hurts so much but its soooo gooood!!! Very smutty but also very tender and very bittersweet. Sad and soft all at once. I just... love the way Alina and Aleksander are written so much, and Alina’s complicated feelings for him are explored in such detail and depth. This one is truly worth the read.

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genshin-impacted · 3 years

Text

empress of the first water // Zhongli x Reader (1)

Word Count: ~2.2k

Palace/Harem Imperial Drama AU: You are a princess, soon-to-be-Empress, and Zhongli is the teacher invited by the royal court to show you the ropes before you ascend to the throne after a royal tragedy.

Notes: female!reader, eventual mutual pining, fake political maneuvers, mentions of death (yes, this is a set up to a harem drama, but Zhongli is focused in this), Zhongli POV

[Next]

hello welcome to the AU I made up; hope I finish this someday :)

“You are unfit to lead this country.”

Not two weeks after a tragedy that hits the royal family, leaving you the sole heir to the throne, that is what has been said to you over and over again. The royal court adjourns without delay, placing you in the middle of it-- though you could care less.

You hold whatever you have been able to salvage from the fire: a necklace momento from your father, the dress that your mother had woven herself. And in your hands, you hold in an urn the ashes of what remains of your family.

There is nothing else on your mind except for the fact that you are alone as the lone heir to the throne, the only living princess of the royal bloodline, and soon-to-be Empress of a nation that you are not prepared to lead.

You just want to mourn.

Zhongli has lived long enough to understand that politics will always be the determining factor in which his life will be led. It does not matter what he dreams of doing or what he desires. As the only born son to one of the oldest and most prestigious families in the nation, his life has never been his own-- though he supposed no one born of royalty has ever been truly in control of their path.

Still, Zhongli finds ways to play what cards he has. He earns praises for his wide array of knowledge in tradition, politics, and culture alike, but it is easy to know something if you are interested in it. He remembers vividly when Guizhong teased him, calling him an old soul when he delved personally into the traditions of tea ceremony, of calligraphy and poetry, out of his own volition because he enjoyed learning. His skills in the polearm-- also passed down in his lineage-- have also not been neglected, for he finds that it is similar to dancing, an elegant and respectful pastime that he often admires in operas and shows that he indulges himself in. If he could do anything with his life, Zhongli thinks he would be a writer or a teacher, or possibly even a historian.

("Old man," Guizhong had said to him affectionately for the last time before she left the compound to serve her duty as a princess, like many others. "One day you'll find yourself someone who listens to you and you'll talk their ear off."

"I doubt anyone would listen to what I have to say willingly," he had said, and his friend had only given him a soft look and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"I don't," she said.)

It has been years since he has entertained the idea of living a quiet life writing his knowledge onto paper and even longer still since had long last seen his childhood friend. Zhongli finds himself in the fray of politics that he knows so much of and has no choice but to delve into when he is invited to the royal capital.

"It is a great honor," his father had said to him, hands behind his back, "to be meeting the Princess of the royal family. Make a good impression; this is of the utmost importance."

Political maneuver, Zhongli thinks immediately, not doubting the intention of an invitation coming from the palace, especially after the incident he has been told of. A fire of great destruction, the burning of a whole wing with the royal family trapped inside-- one would think it was a plot to overthrow the Emperor, but if anyone were to stage a coup, they would have burned the inner walls of the palace where the man resides, bedridden. A great coincidence to have the royal family unable to escape, but it almost seems too malicious to call it that. Gross neglect? Bad luck? Karma? Truly, a tragedy as the death of many could not be described worse than as an accident.

Zhongli thinks it is much too early to be moving the chess pieces so soon after half the board has been razed to the ground, but he supposed the world has never been that kind.

With a trained expression, Zhongli picks up the tea that had been brewed and takes a sip (too bitter, stepped too long, he thinks, wincing slightly, and putting the cup down). "I understand, father." He pauses for a moment and considers his words. "Is there a particular reason for this invitation?"

"The Princess is in need of education due to her lack of preparation as an heir," he says, "though I also hear she is in need of a husband as well."

The tea leaves in the cup trembles for a moment before sinking. "Father?"

"This is an opportunity of a lifetime, son."

And Zhongli thinks about his role, his abandoned journal, and books yet to be read and nods. "I understand," he says, wondering why, even though he expects where his life has been leading, he feels disappointed by the outcome anyway. "I will bring honor to our family."

"I expect nothing less," is what is said to him, and Zhongli swallows the bitterness of the tea down.

When Zhongli arrives at the palace, he is welcomed with all the excitement that is to be expected from the arrival of a son whose family holds prestige. Maids of many numbers cater to his every whim, and the few court officials who seem to favor him welcome him to the royal palace, which is broad and grand just as history would describe them.

Briefly, he wonders if it is professionalism or greed that maintains the palace’s daily businesses after an evident tragedy.

"I would like to extend my greetings and gratitude to the princess for allowing me in her castle," Zhongli says carefully, his voice even and words like silk-- just as he was taught as an educated man-- and watches in confusion as the nobleman who had barely kept his pleasure at his presence suddenly deflate.

"Ah, yes, of course, you would like to see the Princess," he says, a nervous lilt to his voice. "But I'm afraid she is preoccupied with another commitment at the moment. My apologies."

Invitation from the Princess, he remembers reading from the telegram, thinking it strange that someone would invite someone without intentions of welcoming them. It's easy to come to the conclusion that the Princess had not sent the message-- and the thought that she may not even know of his arrival also comes following after. Instead of speaking, Zhongli nods, much to the noble's relief as he continues to parade and provide him the tour that he has not asked for but appreciates nevertheless.

His room is two halls down the main chambers where you live. If the location and proximity to royalty were not enough, the room itself was also vast and much too big for one person, but he supposes luxury and decadence can be shown in empty space as well as it can with beautiful trinkets and trophies. Zhongli has always admired such things, as he does with the ornate statue sitting on top of his vanity and wonders when, if he ever does, he will be able to explore the castle in between whatever responsibilities the court deems him in need for.

"Maid," Zhongli says gently, but the young maid startles anyway when he addresses her.

"Yes, sir?"

"Would I be allowed to stroll the gardens of the west side of the palace?" He says, "The moon is to be full tonight and I wish to view it."

She flushes, for reasons that Zhongli knows not for. "I-I believe so. The guards should be patrolling at the moment, but you are a recognized guest of the palace, so all should be well."

When Zhongli steps out onto the carefully maintained rock garden, he spots a few men walking down and up the inner walls of the castle. He briefly thinks about the number of them but thinks no further, for now. Instead, he thinks the moon is best viewed when its reflection is in the water, clouds are nowhere in sight, and all is quiet. He comes close to the perimeter of the garden inner castle, expecting to see no one.

Zhongli steps into the moonlight and watches as you sit onto the grass and lean your head against the lone lantern post.

Perhaps you are here to moon-gaze as well, he thinks and goes to alert you with his presence by clearing his throat. He doesn't know why his earnest attempts to be unalarming go unwell, but he startles you into turning around.

Zhongli does not know what the Princess looks like, nor has he had anyone describe you to him. But Zhongli knows who you are if not solely from the emblem you carry on your headpiece and the way you hold a funeral urn in your lap like it is the only thing tethering you. As such, he expects the caustic demands of his name and stature, as expected of a Princess, but he is surprised to find that you look at him instead like a deer in headlights, arms tense around the urn.

"My apologies for startling you, my lady," Zhongli begins, "that was not my intention."

"Oh, no, it's okay," you stammer, and he has to blink for a moment at the manner in which you speak. "I should have probably noticed you coming. I was distracted."

Princesses and princes of the royal family are taught three things from birth: power, manners, and tradition. Nothing says more about your status than the way you hold yourself and the way you speak, especially if you are of royalty, and so every word that one must speak seems carefully crafted and intricately woven with elegance. A tad bit obnoxious, if anyone could say, but it is a mark of the elite, regardless of the former.

But you, who hold possibly one, if not the most, powerful title in the country, speak casually and without bothering with a mask of neutrality, as though you are unused to the burdens of sovereignty.

Your eyes are gentle, almost excessively so, and the way you hold yourself as though you want to be unnoticed are both strange but corroborating evidence of your peculiarities of a noblewoman. Though Zhongli has yet to understand why this is so, the instructions his father listed and his role in the castle has become clearer.

Zhongli has many questions, too many to ask about to a person who has no idea who he is.

Decorum takes him before his curiosity overwhelms him, and he lowers his head in deep respect. "My name is Zhongli, Princess. Thank you for allowing me to stay as a guest within the palace.”

"Oh," he hears you breathe out, "you're the one that came today." You turn your head toward the koi pond that beautifully reflects the moon. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to greet you," you say mechanically, trained.

"No, that's quite alright," Zhongli says mildly, glancing down at the urn still in your hands. "I'm sure greeting a stranger would be the least of your concerns at the moment."

At this, you smile at him. It is not a happy smile, but rather a pained one that strains your lips and pinches your eyes. Zhongli thinks back on his first lesson to maintain his expression, to keep composure, and almost marvels at the emotions clear on your face for him to see.

(He thinks this may make your life harder for you, to wear your heart on your sleeves. But he finds himself selfishly wanting you to stay as you are.)

"I've been told one week is all I should be given to mourn, as typical of a funeral ceremony. My parents' ashes should be released but…" You glance up at the night sky dim with stars. "I know in my heart this is not the place for them."

"Then what is the place?" Zhongli echoes and holds his breath when the smile you give him is gentle beyond measure.

"Some place where the wind blows," you say, "where the earth is clean and the ocean is near. That way, my parents can choose freely where to find rest." You laugh. "That must be a pretty tall order, isn't it?"

"You are a Princess," Zhongli finds himself saying, and you turn back to him. "I believe you are allowed to demand only the very best, for yourself and your loved ones."

"I believe," he continues, when he sees your eyes mist over, "that I am here to tutor you in the ways the court deems fit. I have been praised to have a wealth of knowledge and the privilege of history in my family as well as the power of my lineage; I will guide you as best as you need me to." He pauses. "And… if you require a geographical lesson on the highest peaks, the widest oceans, and the most open plains, for reasons beyond academic, I will be available to you."

Zhongli returns to his room (two halls away, he reminds himself, from you), and it is only then he realizes that he has not looked at the moon at all. Not directly, he thinks, but he supposes he did see a glimpse of it, as it stands behind you as a backdrop to frame the smile you gave him that was as bright as starlight.

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin zhongli #genshin impact zhongli #genshin imagines #genshin au #imperial drama au

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welllpthisishappening · 3 years

Text

It all kind of happens in slow motion.

One second, Emma hears the crack of the bat and the requisite roar of the crowd, and the next her eyes have widened to a size most scientists would likely advise against. Because, standing at home plate, that same home plate multiple baseball players are sprinting toward, is her kid. More or less waiting to be run over. That is, of course, until Killian Jones.

———

Word Count: 4.1K Rating: Flufffy fluff fluff of the fluffiest variety AN: Writing has been something of a legitimate challenge for me in the last few weeks, but earlier this week @ohmightydevviepuu sent a link to this tweet, tagged me, and said what I basically took as an unspoken prompt. Like, you’re going to send me video of a bat boy getting scooped up at home by a player in the middle of the game and then think I won’t write about it? Not possible. Even with the aforementioned writing challenges. Nothing stands a chance against my love of baseball. Here’s hoping the Yankees turn it around in the second half. Neither Aaron Judge or I deserve the season we’ve had so far.

———

Biologically speaking, Emma Swan is perfectly aware that the current positioning of her heart is more or less impossible.

Stuck somewhere between the back of her throat and the pit of her stomach, it makes her all too aware of the now-empty chasm in her chest, stretching out toward her arms and threatening the structural integrity of her lungs, neither of which appear all that intent on working properly. Oxygen is a luxury not currently afforded to her capillaries. Instead, nerves mix with anxiety and the telltale flush of adrenaline that probably also makes her look relatively crazy because her pupils are definitely dilated and she does not know nearly enough about science to be making any of these claims.

Whatever, really.

It feels like that ooze from that movie. FernGully, Emma thinks. With the fairies. She thinks they were fairies. She’s not entirely certain they were fairies.

And the ooze was definitely oil, obviously. There was a message involved in that movie. Not one that she appreciated when she was seven and Tim Curry’s animated-oil voice sort of freaked her out. But, like, she gets it now. The environment, and everything. With or without fairies. With Robin Williams, though.

She’s positive about that, at least.

Robin Williams was definitely in that movie.

Less positive about the ability of her heart to actually split itself in half, as it seems wont to do at the moment. So, as to make it easier when it inevitably soars out of her mouth and falls onto the scuffed-up clubhouse floor beneath her feet. Naturally, this will happen simultaneously. For maximum effect.

Much like the fireworks currently exploding over the left-field bleachers.

She’s not sure if fireworks do explode, actually. That seems dangerous. Likely to lead to injuries and sounds that don’t resemble the oohs and ahhs a ballpark generally inspires. Explode probably isn’t the right word. Maybe something more like…detonate.

No, that’s worse. Way worse. She’s got to learn more words. Find a thesaurus or a dictionary or—a fireworks expert would be ideal, honestly.

Someone who could give her a detailed description of the inner-workings of a Yankee Stadium pyrotechnics display on a Tuesday in July, enough words that Emma’s mind would still for a few moments, allowing her to catch her breath and reestablish a consistent heart rate, and both of those problems could also likely be solved by sitting down, but the chair to her left looks a little wobbly, and her legs appear to have minds of their own because science is rather quickly becoming a lie and—

“Is he alright?” She spins. Nearly falls over. Her knees are also awfully wobbly, that’s why.

Despite all of that, and the overall circumference of her pupils, the voice doesn’t retreat. Doesn’t even flinch. Shows absolutely no signs of imminent stumbling. And that’s probably because the voice is a man, one who is in possession of world-class instinctual reactions, and his hair is still damp from his post-game shower and it absolutely makes her something of an atrocious mother to acknowledge that last thing as quickly as she does.

His shirt sleeves are noticeably sticking to his biceps, so that helps too.

Opening her mouth, Emma is going to say words that are both vaguely intelligent and passably accurate, absolving this Major League Baseball player of any of the guilt he so obviously feels. Which is just patently stupid, really. None of this was his fault. None of it was anyone’s fault, really.

Except maybe the idiot who left his bat at that particular angle across home plate, but Emma’s an adrenaline expert these days and walk-offs are understandably exciting. First walk-offs more so.

She’s happy for Scarlet, really.

They won the game.

Everything is fine. Great, even. She nearly jumps twenty-six feet in the air at the next boom of fireworks.

The pinch between the Major League Baseball player’s eyebrows gets—

Pinchier.

The little roll of skin draws Emma’s attention, effectively robbing her of the ability to respond like an almost-sane person, but she’s also still trying to rationalize why she can remember the words to several FernGully songs while also being unable to recall what flavor PopTart she had for breakfast earlier this week and she figures watching her kid nearly get run over by professional athletes approximately forty-two minutes before gives her a fairly reasonable excuse.

For opening and closing her mouth no less than eight consecutive times.

Like a goddamn fish. There were no fish in FernGully. Least not so far as she remembers.

It’s entirely possible she squeaks on attempt number five.

The Major League Baseball player’s eyebrows do not move. It’s equal parts frustrating and incredible to behold.

“I should probably thank you, right?” Emma asks, not quite regretting the words immediately, but it’s awfully close. That gets her some movement. Of the eyebrow variety. One eyebrow, specifically. Arching up, it somehow still manages to pull her attention directly toward eyes that should be the star of their own marketing campaign. Not quite Yankee blue, but distractingly blue, and it takes everything in her not to huff as dramatically as she wants to. Once the athletic trainer is done with Henry, Emma is going to make him examine her lungs. Rationality rules the day.

Major League Baseball player shakes his head. It’s dumb to call him that. She knows his name. Knows at least some of his history. Is still staring obnoxiously at his freakishly attractive face.

Freakishly is kind of mean, too. As far as descriptions go.

“Unnecessary,” he says, an undercurrent of worry still clear in the letters. Ducking his head, he takes a cautious step forward, almost as if he’s wary of what Emma will do, and she supposes that’s fair. What with the impressive vertical she’s in possession of these days. “Anyone would do that.” “I’m not sure they could, actually.”

At some point in this otherwise shitty experience of a night, Emma is vaguely confident something will go the way she wants it to. Aside from winning. She’s glad they won. Seriously.

“No?” “No,” she echoes, and it’s not like she can feel him. A few feet of space separates them, so whatever heat appears to be wafting off the Major League Baseball player in front of her, with his damp hair, and stupid, stupid, stupid eyes is as impossible as any of the various impossibilities currently taking place within her person.

And yet.

He sticks his hand out.

It’s disarmingly earnest.

“Killian Jones,” he says, confidence replacing the nerves, and Emma begins to see why there are so many stories. And Twitter threads. Regarding his face and the potential for that face to date a variety of other attractive faces across at least four of the five boroughs. Somehow Emma doesn’t think Killian Jones, New York Yankees third baseman, is schlepping out to Staten Island for a date.

Nor does she believe that Killian Jones, New York Yankees third baseman, has ever once let the word schlep pass through his conscious mind.

She takes his hand.

It is—

Surprisingly warm. And...not quite soft, that’d be impossible with the job he performs almost nightly. But the calluses on the pads of his fingers aren’t as rough as Emma expects, which also suggests she’s managed to ponder the overall texture of Killian Jones’s fingers in the last twelve point six seconds, and that’s not entirely true. What is true is that Ruby thinks Killian Jones is real good-looking and has determined that the phrase quite a catch is the pinnacle of humor, so, sure, Emma has possibly considered the possibility of paths crossing and intersecting, and her hand looks minuscule wrapped up in his. So, that’s something to think about later.

Their arms move. Bob up and down as society dictates they should, and he’s smiling at her, and she’s trying not to look like a serial killer, straining to hear the voices behind the door, and it does not work.

“Why do you think people are so consistently fascinated by fireworks?” If he’s surprised by her absolutely inane question, he doesn’t show it. That’s points. For what, Emma hasn’t totally decided yet, but it’s something, and it’s probably good, and they’re going to play that clip on loop for weeks. Longer, probably.

Every goddamn day if the Yankees make the postseason.

When the Yankees make the postseason.

Her dad wouldn’t appreciate the buffer. Leaves room for loss, and that is not the Nolan way. Not when there are championships to win, and this was supposed to be the best possible time. Smack dab in the middle of the season, with the All-Star break looming, Henry would get to suit up as batboy for one game that didn’t mean much and wouldn’t draw too strong of a spotlight, no murmurs about nepotism by internet trolls who couldn’t possibly define the word with any sort of accuracy, but also like to shout about canceling and culture with an almost alarming sense of self-righteousness, so, of course, the whole thing was now blowing up in their face.

Much like the goddamn fireworks.

It wasn’t Will Scarlet’s fault.

Wasn’t Henry’s fault, either.

His job was to get the bats out of the field of play. Doing it while the field of play was still active was a mistake any kid could have made. Just so happens that it’s Emma’s kid, and the grandkid of the Yankees’ hitting coach, and that means something to the New York media and the New York fans, and if Killian Jones, New York Yankees third baseman with an arm that can make cross-field throws with ease, wasn’t also so quick-thinking and sure-footed, scooping Henry up as he crossed home plate and avoiding the ensuing swarm of players at home plate, all intent on celebrating Will Scarlet’s first-ever career walk-off, Emma can only imagine what would have happened.

Trampled. Stepped on. Broken bones. Concussions.

They’re checking Henry for a concussion now. He absolutely does not have a concussion. He was laughing while he was carried off the field. Like he hit the walk-off.

Front office is absolutely petrified she’s going to sue them.

The thought hadn’t even once crossed Emma’s mind. Plus, she’s sort of busy. Holding Killian Jones’s hand. His stupid, warm hand.

“Bright colors,” he says, responding to a question Emma’s nearly forgotten about. Jumping is more challenging when his fingers tighten ever so slightly. “Flash, boom. Taps into baser instincts, I think.” “You think people’s base instinct is to enjoy explosions.” “Phrasing that as a statement makes me think you don’t agree with me.” “You didn’t want me to thank you,” Emma points out.

“Well, no,” he says, and the precise way his eyes drop does something specific to all of her instincts. Leaves her flush with a heat that reminds her of Fourth of July sparklers rather than any sort of massive explosion, and that’s not bad, per se, although it’s admittedly a little surprising. As is the slight uptick of precisely one side of his mouth. It takes her a moment to realize he’s smirking at her. And another for her subconscious to admit that it’s working as intended. Her shoulders drop half an inch. While Emma pulls her hand back to her side. “Thanking me suggests I did anything to warrant the thanks.” “Big words.” “For a dumb athlete, you mean.” “That wasn’t a question, either.” “No,” Killian repeats, “it wasn’t.” “I’d really like to thank you. I—Dad told him when to come out of the dugout, so he definitely knew the rules, but I think he was super worried about you tripping over the bat.”

The smirk becomes a full-blown smile. Which is no less than forty-seven thousand times more powerful. Equivalent to staring directly into a solar eclipse or gazing upon the dark side of the moon, and Emma should at least do some research before coming up with these internal examples. Basic Google searches would provide her with the necessary information.

“That’s more or less what he told me, yeah.” Emma’s nose creases. “Talked your ear off after your daring rescue, huh?” “Keep complimenting me like this, and my ego won’t know what to do with it.”

She hopes she’s not blushing as much as it feels like she is. The state of Killian’s eyebrows and the precise curl of his lips make that seem unlikely. “Your reflexes are unparalleled.” “Something about big bucks and why I get paid them.” “Oh,” Emma laughs, unable to stop herself, and she doesn’t remember deciding to stop pacing, only that her knees appreciate it once she has, “you think you’re real funny, don’t you?” “I think I’m moderately funny, not the hero you’re suggesting I am—” “Oh, I never used the word hero.” “—And you never actually told me your name.”

“Because you don’t know who I am.” It’s not a question, either. Neither one of them mention that.

“I do,” Killian concedes, “Henry was also fairly quick to mention exactly who he was and where his mother was sitting.” Emma’s nose is going to freeze in this position. “But I gave you my name, which makes it only fair that we’re all square and whatnot.” “Whatnot, huh?” “Yup.” He pops his lips on the letter. Which is also unfair. In, like, the grand scheme of the world. The black ooze that is not actually oil when used in this particular metaphor recedes. Leaves Emma with a chest cavity that is partially full of butterfly wings and the growing sense of anticipation that isn’t quite as nerve-wracking as it should be. Like she’s about to step into the batter’s box with two outs and runners in scoring position. She’s totally going to hit against the shift. Fluttering her fingers at her side, Emma doesn’t lift her hand. It doesn’t matter.

Killian’s eyes drop. To the movement. And her. And part of her shies away from that because part of her has spent a lifetime tucked into a shadow that didn’t belong to her and doesn’t belong to Henry, but now there’s some joke about Peter Pan to be made because they live in an internet-age and Killian Jones has a very good face. So. Viral video, enter stage right. Starring Henry Swan, Killian Jones, and the inevitably uneven pitter-patter of Emma’s traitorous heart.

“Emma Swan.” “I think you should sit down.”

“Why is that, exactly?” “I’m worried about your legs.”

Whatever noise she makes can’t quite be classified as a scoff. It hurts her throat too much. And it’s not a laugh, either. Even as the butterflies threaten to rise up in mutiny of Emma’s more rational feelings, and she gets the distinct impression that Killian is reading her mind. Trying very hard, at least.

“Sounds like a line.” “Might be a line,” he admits, which draws another wholly inhuman sound out of Emma’s barely-functioning lungs.

“Did he kick you on the lift?” Killian hums. “You’d kick too if you were just hauled off your feet, so I understand the reaction. What I’m more worried about is the inevitable bruise on my foot from the bat landing there.” “Ah shit, really?” “I’ve had worse.” “But not in 4K video that people will play on loop for the rest of the news cycle. If not longer.” Narrowing his eyes, Killian doesn’t immediately respond. Mind reading requires a modicum of focus, Emma assumes. Instead, he rests a hand on her shoulder, directing her toward the chair and ignoring the soft crack her left knee as it bends. “That’s what you’re worried about.” “Stop sounding so confident.” “I can only sound how I am, Swan.” “Oh, I’m not sure we’ve reached nickname status yet,” she mumbles, pushing down the soft rush of metaphorical insects doing their beset to soar out of her barely-parted lips. “But, yeah, I—I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was totally terrified in the moment.”

“Understandable. Grown men barrelling down the third-base line at your kid are a lot to take in.” She snorts. It’s not cute. Not dignified. Killian smirks. “Should you be concerned that the Scarlet was making such solid headway behind you? Are you exceedingly slow?” “I am league average.” “How fast can you get out of the box to first?” “I’ve never timed it.” “Liar, liar.” “Please don’t make a crack about my pants,” Killian says, “I won’t be able to cope.”

“Oh God, you think you’re charming, too.” “I’ve had no complaints.” “To your face, at least.”

Throwing his head back, the laugh that erupts out of him is not of volcano proportions. Of which there was also one in FernGully if Emma’s memory is to be trusted. An arm circles his middle, stretching muscle and ensuring that Emma notices just how corded that same muscle is, the slight bend of his wrist leaving her off-kilter. When he meets her gaze, she swears his eyes are brighter. “Yeah, yeah, that’s true,” Killian concedes, “no one has flat out told me I was lacking charm to my face.” “This thanking you thing is going great.” “And I continue to not need thanks. Why are you worried about the video getting out there? Filmed in 4K like you suggest, at least we’ll all look great. Sharp pixels and whatnot.” “What do you know about pixels?” “You basically heard the extent just now.”

She’s getting better at laughing. The ooze has almost all but disappeared, Emma twirling a strand of hair around fingers that are intent on moving, and it’s an old habit. One Killian’s gaze catches on. Immediately. Quickly. Seriously, Emma needs a thesaurus. “Baseball’s always been my dad,” she says. “And that’s—well, we’ve lived this game, me and my mom, weekend series and West Coast swings, waiting up for him to get home because the flight got delayed, but Henry’s just a kid, getting thrown into this world because of his last name and who his family is? That sucks. Nothing was supposed to happen tonight.” “Nothing did happen.” “Because of you.” “I’d like to believe Scarlet, ridiculously fast as he might be, would not run over a small child,” Killian says. “And, uh, for the record and all that, I got a bad jump off first because I didn’t know if they were going to catch it in left. No one wants to get caught on the base paths.” “Yeah, that’d be embarrassing.”

He must hear the hitch in her voice because the next thing Emma realizes, her fingers are twisted back up in Killian’s, and she’s warm and falling and flying, and it’s good and weird, and the door swings open.

They both jump.

So, that’s something.

Rushing out quickly enough that he nearly trips over his own feet, Henry’s head leads the way and finds Emma’s stomach, a tangle of limbs, and overly-excited words, all of which rival the now-finished fireworks display in volume.

It takes Henry about five and a half run-on sentences to notice Killian standing there.

His eyes widen. His mouth drops. Killian grins. Emma tries very hard not to die. It only sort of works.

She blames the faulty body parts she’s in possession of.

“Killian,” Henry exclaims, clamoring back to his feet and nearly falling again in the process. Hands that belong to both Emma and Killian dart out, steadying Henry while their eyes meet over the top of his head. Killian winks. He tries. It’s more like a blink than anything. “Hi, hi! You did so good tonight! And we won, and I got to go on the field and—and, it was so,” Henry heaves a deep breath, “we were so good.”

Collective pronouns do something to Emma’s entire state of being.

Flips it on an axis she hadn’t been aware previously existed until it almost feels as if this was the path they’d been directing themselves toward from the start. Her eyes flit toward Killian. Who is already watching her.

“We did,” he nods, “maybe next time, though, you wait one extra second to grab Scarlet’s bat, ok?” Seeing her own nose scrunch reflected back on her kid is not the worst thing that’s ever happened to Emma. The vibrating phone in her back pocket, might be.

It’s one-hundred percent, Ruby.

“That’s what grandpa said too,” Henry grumbles, digging a toe of the cleats Emma’s mother bought him last week into the ground, “but I wanted to make sure you didn’t fall.”

Definitely dying, then. A systematic shut down of all necessary internal organs. It’s not as bad as Emma would have expected.

Neither one of Killian’s knees crack when he bends. That seems heavy-handed.

“And I don’t want you to fall either,” he says, “so we agree, right here, right now, not to let the other one fall, huh?” Emma holds her breath. Ignores the pinch in her lungs and the clearly unstable nature of both her mind and her heart, digging her nails into her palms. To ensure she isn’t tempted to haul Henry back toward her. Or push that one strand of hair away from Killian’s forehead.

Henry nods. “Deal.”

They hook their pinkies together.

It’s adorable and as endearingly charming as everything else Killian Jones, New York Yankees third baseman, has done since he walked into that hallway. Less so when her dad emerges from the office, the athletic trainer on his heels to not-so-quietly inform Killian that he can’t just blow off post-game like that, and the second wink is as bad as the first.

She does her very best to memorize the movement.

And the joy on Henry’s face the next morning when a box arrives on their doorstep, a genuine, game-worn Killian Jones jersey inside. She doesn’t notice the note at first, tucked between the cardboard and the tissue paper someone must have bought for him. He can’t have bought that tissue paper himself. He just—it’s unfathomable.

Emma knows he bought the tissue paper himself.

As clearly as she knows that those numbers in that particular order will lead to Killian Jones answering his phone and that her voice likely won’t shake when she replies to the question written in surprisingly loopy script. Which is why, Emma will argue, she does reply. In the affirmative. To several questions over the course of the remaining season, and they don’t star in any more viral videos, but there are a few pictures once they clinch the division.

Drops of champagne cling to the tips of Emma’s eyelashes and the ends of Killian’s hair, hands on her waist that blaze a quick path up her back and around her middle, and she has to tilt her head up to get the right angles. Of lips. While they kiss in the middle of the clubhouse, the hat someone forced onto Emma’s head falling and it’s impossible to hear over the sound of celebratory fireworks, but she can somehow still hear Henry’s laugh ringing out from the general area near Scarlet’s locker, and his jersey collection is growing at an impressive rate.

No one can withstand the overall cuteness of him.

Emma included. Emma, especially.

Sometimes she worries she’s so happy she’ll burst, unable to contain the sort of emotion her body is still acclimating itself to. But then she realizes just how dumb that is and happiness cannot possibly be quantified, and her head is buzzing enough from champagne that she nearly misses Killian when he says, “people love the bright spots, Swan.” It’s not the most romantic thing he’s told her. Doesn’t crack the top five, quite frankly. She swoons all the same. With her kid laughing and her team winning and that’s about all the sentiment she’s willing to acknowledge before her tongue is in Killian’s mouth. He groans. She grins.

And he’d been right about the video. It wasn’t the embarrassment Emma worried it could be. Was mostly relegated to the corners of the internet set aside for formerly popular content as soon as the season ended, spoken about only in fond recollection as the other seasons went on and the wins kept coming and all three of them stand on a parade float with the World Series trophy a few dozen feet away, several Novembers after that first game.

It’s a Thursday afternoon, then.

And yet Emma never entirely forgets. What the video meant and what it did and she’s not remotely surprised when it finds its way back to the forefront of the sports zeitgeist on a Wednesday in July. Most mentions come with similar taglines and messages. Something about feeling our age and wanna feel old because that bot boy, David Nolan’s grandson, Killian Jones’s stepson, he’s getting drafted now.

Got drafted, technically.

Third round, video of the soon-to-be third baseman for the San Diego Padres makes the internet circuits and garners plenty of interest. It’s not the most exciting video, though. Henry just hugs his family. Who hug tightly back.

What is more exciting is the box that arrives on Emma and Killian’s doorstep. With a note that eventually earns a frame next to the last one and a wholly official, game-worn jersey that has a noticeable streak of dirt across the left sleeve. From sliding head-first into home plate.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #do not ask me why this is so full of ferngully references #i do not have an answer for you #the google doc title for this was: BaseballCuresWritersBlock #thanks baseball

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katytheinspiredworkaholic · 3 years

Text

WIP Wednesday Thursday

Title: Extraordinary

Pairings: HotchReid (side pairings Morcia, WillxJJ, others in flirtation)

Summary: League of Extraordinary Gentleman/Vampire AU;

Within the FBI there is a specialized team full of an elite selection of people. Unique individuals with very particular skill sets. And their job is to take the unusual cases: the ones that need to not only be solved, but are undetermined if the unsub is human, or something else entirely.

In a world filled with Vampires, non-human creatures, and subspecies unknown, there is only enough information to have them vaguely regulated. Rules that are so easily, and violently broken, all while hidden in plain sight among the unsuspecting public. Unrivaled for eons.

That’s where the BAU comes in.

Official Posting Date: Now posted on tumblr and Ao3, Click Here

Links: (Masterpost) (Snippet 01) (Snippet 02) (Snippet 03) (Snippet 04)

(TW/CW: This is pretty tame, Emily is just a little intense and eager because Spencer is... well, Spencer, and when she realizes all he can do? Oh she is chomping at the bit. Some trance-like things and witchy stuff and Hotch being territorial without being able to admit it.)

(the story so far/what you need to know for this clip at least: this takes place in chapter 02, what you will all see on Saturday evening, and this version is insanely unpolished (I’m about to go through and fix it up and give it a good make-over) but basically this is the first time Spencer is meeting Emily Prentiss and it makes... an impression. Also, Emily has been at the BAU for about 0.2 seconds and Hotch is already done with her. The sibling energy I love to see. It’s also hella long, as an apology for missing last week and being a day late. All you’ve missed is Spencer about ran into Emily turning a corner and she saved him from spilling his case files and coffee all over the floor. Now they are talking)

–

“I apologize, I thought you were an intern or still in the academy.”

“It’s alright, everyone does,” Spencer says without taking offense. He wouldn’t have gotten where he was or lasted very long if he did; however, if he had a nickel for every time someone had been surprised by his age, he’d be as rich as Father Rossi. His full hands actually aids him as he mentions, “I don’t usually shake hands with people, so don’t think me rude. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” He offers her a smile in exchange, and it is mirrored on her face just as her surprise kicks up another notch.

“Doctor, my my I am in for a trip on this team, aren’t I?” she laughs, and it’s a melodic thing that stretches over an expanse of time and history. Ballrooms in Russia and palors of France, Elizabethan and the roaring 20’s and everything in between all rolled into one. He’s not sure how he sees it, an impossible thing, but he can read it like a book and that must have something to do with what she is. “Emily Prentiss, it is a remarkable pleasure to meet you Dr. Reid. Now, I have to ask--” her tone is so charming and playful and probing he barely notices the nuance, “And I’m sure it’s taboo around here, but I have to know -- your regeneration process. Tell me what it is or what you do. You look so young.”

“I am young,” he states simply, finally stunned by a question he’s not usually asked.

“Yes, yes, we all can’t be a thousand years old like your fearless Vampire leader,” she waves off and Spencer’s eyes widen because… he hadn’t known Hotch was that old. Sure he’d said he’d been alive for the better part of a millennia, but he always said it like a hyperbole. A turn of phrase that’s off by a couple centuries. But --

A thousand years old.

That would put him…

God, that would put him alive, as a human, just before the start of The Crusades.

“Oh, did he keep that to himself? Oops, my bad. Pretend you don’t know. Anyway -- so are you a Shifter? Or use a particular spell? Oh, or is it a curse? I’m fascinated by curses, I don’t use them often myself but the rigidity of terms using a power so chaotic is just such a fun juxtaposition that I--”

“No, no, I’m… normal, human,” Spencer interrupts her, still the smallest bit shell-shocked, but now connects a few dots himself as she speaks. Realizes very suddenly that Ms. Prentiss appears ageless because she is ageless. She’s also a Witch. One of the broadest terms for subspecies categories, which really doesn’t do it justice. A Witch could be a number of things. Someone who uses magic and science and the very Earth itself paired with the spiritual planes to do impossible things. Witches are beings so powerful they should be uncategorizable. Something Spencer is fascinated by as well. He’s never met anyone like Emily. “I look young because I am young. I’m 27, I’ve only been with the BAU for the past three years. I’m a little excited to not be the newbie on the team any more,” he tries to joke, but Emily’s gaze has gone distant and sharp all at once.

“You’re only 27? And you’re a doctor?” She asks in clarification, Spencer nodding along each time. “You’ve been a doctor, since becoming an FBI agent?”

“Um, well -- I’m not a medical doctor. I do have three doctorates, though; in mathematics, chemistry, and engineering,” he finds himself shrinking a bit under her intensely interested gaze. “What?”

“Chemistry?” she asks, vaguely more distant.

“That was my first doctorate,” he murmurs back, not sure what has her looking so contemplative.

“You’ve achieved all of this: three doctorates, FBI agent, BAU -- in 27 years?” she questions, a grave yet wondrous sound.

“Technically I did all of that in 15 years. I graduated high school when I was 12,” he manages to do more than mumble, and Emily’s wide-eyed stare has him spewing forth information like it requires an explanation. “I have an eidetic memory, and I can read 20,000 words a minute, and my IQ is 187 so by human standards yes -- I’m a genius, and borderline on the advanced brain developments scale. But I’m still human. Nothing paranormal or extraordinary.”

The pause that follows is palpable.

“Oh,” she says in an exhale, “Oh, you young soul. You have no idea, do you? What you are capable of...” She tilts her head as she steps closer and Spencer is very suddenly aware that he’s not sure she’s blinked since they started speaking about his qualifications. What he can do, how he got to where he is. No one usually shows this much interest, he makes them uncomfortable for reasons he doesn’t always understand.

Emily doesn’t look uncomfortable, she looks… hungry.

“You are so very, very extraordinary. Exceptional, really. Look at all of what you’ve accomplished with just 15 years of life.” That astonished sound again, like she can’t believe her luck--

And then she’s in his space, gaze boring into his, and Spencer can see galaxies in the depth of her eyes. His breath stolen from him and feet rooted to the floor. So he doesn’t step away as she leans just the smallest bit closer, words resonating with echoes across ages.

“Imagine what you could do with a thousand.”

“Prentiss,” the deep voice of Hotch’s monotone (edged in something vaguely aggressive, and more than a little aggravated) breaks through their moment. The trance fading like a fog from Spencer’s eyes. “No recruiting. It’s in your contract.”

“You have such a gift, it’s a shame to waste it,” Emily whispers in a rush as Hotch approaches them from down the hall. More earnest than intimidating, now.

“Prentiss!”

“Think about it,” she winks, and then turns to give Hotch a smile that’s all teeth so sharp she resembles a shark. “Oh, what a sour face. What’s wrong? Were you planning on asking him first? You snooze, you lose.”

“Conference room,” he instructs, pointing the way Spencer had just come. “Team meeting in 20 minutes. Try not to summon anything between here and there.” She sticks her tongue out at him childishly as she leaves, and sends a quirk of a smile Spencer’s direction that shifts her whole expression into something comically entertained. He’s never seen Hotch interact with someone like this, like they were… familiar, even exasperatingly so. The closest in comparison is probably Father Rossi. But this is less like old friends and more like sibling rivalry.

The space Emily had just vacated is suddenly filled with Hotch, an overwhelmingly welcomed presence and it eases the tension out of Spencer’s spine and shoulders that he hadn’t even realized was there.

“Are you okay?” he asks, low and quiet. They’re the only ones in the hallway, but secrecy is a hard habit to break.

Spencer nods, still gaining his bearings once more. “I think so. That didn’t feel like hypnotism. I don’t know what that was.”

“Prentiss doesn’t manipulate minds or the wills of other people,” Hotch tells him, which is soothing if not for the foreboding question of what just occurred. “She doesn’t need to. She can do a lot of things: change her face, her voice, make illusions and talk circles around anyone -- even you.” Spencer looks up to him at that, aware that his level of intelligence is the only thing that keeps him safe from JJ or Hotch’s influence. His mind can’t be bent, or tricked.

“Then what was she doing? I felt compelled but… not against my will. What was that?” he asks, also quiet but much more high in pitch as his confusion turns his voice to a winded sound.

Hotch’s thin, stern frown does nothing to alleviate the apprehension caught up in his chest like a bad cold.

“Possibility,” he states, grim and not liking that Spencer had fallen prey to such a short moment with Emily Prentiss and her promise of what her craft could do for him. Hotch is well aware that Spencer’s gift of soaking up every speck on information he’s given like a sponge isn’t something to let wither and die like so many before him. There’s so much he could do with an infinite life, such as his and Emily’s, but the curse of living forever alone is not something to be taken lightly. And not to be decided by someone who still has so much more life to live unaided by other forces.

However, Emily was right about one thing. Hotch can’t deny that he’s thought about it. More than considered it as a definite possibility.

An offer, all his own.

–

Tagged list so far: @physics-magic, @thaddeusly, @ssa-noa, @ssa-sarahsunshine, @tobias-hankel, @reidology, @mintphoenix

#THIS IS JUST A SNIPPET #it's a very long one as an apology for missing last week and being a day late #and also because it's COOL and I have no self control #Emily and Spencer would be a terrifying duo honestly #Also Emily and Hotch have the best sibling relationship ever #if anyone wants in on that taglist hit me up via ask or comment or rb #the story is posted! Updates on Saturday evenings #Extraordinary #HotchReid #Katyswriting #Katyswip #wip wednesday

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centrally-unplanned · 3 years

Text

Allocating Your Aesthetic Budget: Sailor Moon Edition

Sailor Moon is a show that undoubtedly built a powerhouse of a visual brand. Should I even bother posting a screenshot of the sailor scouts, given that I am 100% confident anyone reading this can recall them instantly? I guess it won’t hurt:

Anime is often really good at creating iconic designs like this, through repetition of the visuals. It is awkward in live action shows if characters just wear the same outfit every scene (what, they only own one outfit? Are they homeless/work in the tech industry?), but animation gives us enough aesthetic “distance”, an awareness that this isn’t accurate to real life, that you can buy into the conceit. By wearing the same outfit every time, it just becomes the character. Not to mention a studio can really save quite a few bucks by streamlining production with neat tricks like having only one character design to animate - when you are on a shoe-string budget, like pretty much every anime in the 90’s was, every cut corner counts.

What is interesting about Sailor Moon is that most of the time it doesn’t really use this conceit at all.

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Episode 15 of Sailor Moon’s first season has, in its opening act, this shot of all of the Senshi (at the time) talking to the plot-of-the-day character, who clearly trains rock Pokemon in 16-bit caves in his off hours:

If you knew nothing about these three characters, you could probably infer about 80% of their personality just from their outfits. Usagi (the blond one in the middle, if that's necessary) is wearing:

Light pastel colours, with pink on top of that: girly, feminine, bubbly and breezy

Short-but-not-too-short of a skirt, and red heels: cares about fashion, wants to project an image of being a woman with a romantic hint to it

Long-twin tails w/ buns: Contrasting the shoes, she is still immature and childish. It also means she is the protagonist of an anime

Rei (far right) rocks a very different look:

T-shirt and jean shorts, shoes over heels: sensible, practical, a bit sporty

Very short shorts, long black hair: Confident, a bit aggressive, and suggestive of a more overt sexuality

Ami (far left) settles into a more restrained vibe with:

Full, long, but sleeveless dress, bob-cut hair: Chaste, more conservative, but not to the point of prudishness; particularly with the length (and the hand posture, shielding her body) probably a bit shy

Monochrome blue colour in outfit & hair: reserved, serene, possessing a calm demeanor

I know I have seen the show already, but really none of these details are a stretch - this is just the language of fashion. And all of these outfits are outfits that the characters have never (or rarely) worn before up until this point. The cast of Sailor Moon, far from that animation conceit of “standard outfits”, change clothes all…

the….

time.

I just randomly clicked on episodes to find these, it requires no hunting

And while it isn’t always as spot on as the top picture, they all in some way embody the language of visual design to speak to the personality of the characters. If you want to see more, check out one of the multiple tumblrs dedicated to the everyday clothing the Sailor Senshi wear, because of course those exist.

If this was a 2010’s Kyoto Animation show, pointing this out would be the end of it - every one of their shows has this level of impeccable detail. Sailor Moon is notable in that it is not at all that kind of show; the animation and designs in Sailor Moon take perpetual shortcuts to get the job done. I don’t think the transformation sequences need to be belabored - the way they permitted the team to recycle identical animation sequences, multiple times per episode, was surely a godsend to the production schedule. Yet not all of the budget limitations are so prettily masked:

I’m sure they finished the background art in the...VHS release?

The show is filled with dirty animation, unfinished backgrounds, backgrounds that are a simple color gradient for no clear reason, and so on. It is clear that the Sailor Moon team did not have the resources for every detail - which is why the decision of what details they did choose to prioritize is so interesting.

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What is the point of Sailor Moon? I do believe that shows have “points”; and by that I don’t mean a message or theme but a core appeal to an audience, something specific that they will get out of the show. Almost every show appeals along multiple axes, and Sailor Moon is no exception, but I want to focus on one: aesthetic identification.

If you learn someone is a Sailor Moon fan, there is the obvious follow-up question you have to ask, namely “which Sailor Senshi are you?” It’s the which-Harry-Potter-house-are-you question of anime, a horoscope where you can choose your sign (in this case literally). The premise of this concept is not hard for media to execute on - it is just personality traits and aesthetics grouped together under a label, a basic building block of media and clickbait internet quizzes. Harry Potter, ironically, raised up its memetic question almost by accident, as its focus is so squarely on House Gryffindor that the others are almost forgotten; it was just so mind-bogglingly popular that it didn’t matter.

Sailor Moon, however, takes this concept and allocates so much of its aesthetic budget into making it a centerpiece of the show. Sailor Moon herself is a klutzy, lazy romantic, Sailor Mercury is a shy, earnest bookworm, and so on, with none of them ever really becoming very complex characters. However, the show devotes itself to making you *feel* these archetypes as strongly and intricately as possible. All of those outfit changes are chosen because not only do real girls care about their outfits and can therefore identify more strongly with characters who do the same, but so they can constantly emulate their archetype in diverse, different ways. The show doesn't have the budget for intense action scenes, so after Sailor Moon engages in her hyper-serious transformation sequences, she proceeds to, nearly every time, bumble through the combat scenes like this:

Oh sure, the scenes are done this way because it is funny (and good comedy can be done on any budget - these shots are frequently still frames with motion lines!), but it is also done this way because Sailor Moon is a total screw-up, and if you identify with that it is validating to see someone “just like you” able to pull off wins despite it all. The transformation sequences are not only beautiful animation that showcases aspirational power, but are also crafted to highlight the personalities of the Senshi in question - unless you think aggressive, combative Rei got fire powers by coincidence. Half of the run-time of every episode is spent, not on the plot du-jour, but on light-hearted personal squabbles between the cast because those scenes are not just funny, but also allow for far more moments of character expression.

All of that work pays off in building with the audience, not a connection with a character who reflects their identity in total, but a connection that reflects one aspect of their identity in an extremely deep (dare I say multifaceted?) way. I think if you were to describe Sailor Moon as a “shallow” show, you would actually be right to say so, in a sense. These characters will never have the true depth of personality, themes and so on of a more ‘adult’ show. But those adult shows have to spend their effort somewhere - for all that the themes of say Evangelion or Paranoia Agent are pristinely detailed and impactful, you aren’t ever going to be memorizing the moves of their transformation sequences. The way Sailor Moon committed so strongly to fleshing out the archetypes the Senshi stood for is, I think, one of the keys to how this cast of five became so iconic.

Not even their school uniforms match! They had to spend time in-universe *justifying* this!

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A Final Note:

At least, everything I’ve said here applies to Sailor Moon at its peaks. The show, however, is not one without its stumbles, even in Season 1. This section doesn’t flow into the core essay too well, but I wanted to note it because if you were to watch Sailor Moon today, you might struggle to feel the dynamic outlined above. The biggest culprit here is the length - Season 1 is 46 episodes long, and sections of it most certainly drag. They also take a startlingly long time to introduce the cast - this choice builds tension around their arrival, but it also means the later Senshi get a lot less time to establish themselves. Sailor Venus in particular gets hamstrung by this - she is introduced and then immediately arc plot elements sweep the narrative, and so she is left as a hollow shell for some time. The pacing of the show is undoubtedly flawed.

I think Sailor Moon is a show that you do have to keep its time and place in mind for - namely, middle schoolers and anime nerds watching it on broadcast TV in the 90’s. As an adult you “get” the point of the show pretty quickly, and get satiated on it almost as fast. Watching it all in a few sittings only heightens this problem. For a younger audience, and one that is waiting for a week between episodes with no internet for plot reminders, all that extra time is needed to jog memories and build connections. And younger audiences just have that limitless commitment to the things they love! If you think no one could actually enjoy seeing the same transformation sequence for the 30th time, watch it with someone who would have died for this show when they were 10 and you will be disabused of that notion *very* quickly.

Still, we can’t travel back in time - Sailor Moon is a show of its era. There are “filler-reduced” guides out there, though I caution that the plot of Sailor Moon is absolutely not the point of the show in comparison to the character dynamics, and so sometimes the filler is the best part (Cat-Rhett Butler is the best character in the show YOU KNOW I’M RIGHT). Certainly, however, some method must be used to cut down on its length. If you are going to be a first time viewer in adulthood, that reality should be kept in mind, and if you do accept it for what it is you can really appreciate its core appeal - and don’t forget to finish it off with a 1990′s era internet personality quiz to really wrap it up!

#essay #anime analysis #sailor moon

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