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sol1056 · 7 years ago

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hrm, I have several asks that all imply a similar premise in their questions, so I’m answering that particular part of those asks, all in one, here.

and the premise is that I hated S6; but truthfully,I’d be reluctant to say that. Instead, I’d say I found its flaws even more glaring thanks to contrast with parts that I did like, but that what goes in the ‘good’ or ‘bad’ columns depends on the hat I’m wearing when I’m asked.

See, if I were to break out the various levels in which I consume any story, in any media, it’d be something like this: as a writer, as a student of visual media, as an anthropologist, as a technologist, as a philosopher... and that’s not counting the various other things I love that -- if reflected well in a story -- will make me happy: engineering, mechanics, architecture, intercultural communications.

behind the cut: an example in how those parts of my brain react, and a quick rundown of the real issue of the season: failure to be inspired evenly across the character spectrum.

Take a scene like the one where the castle is hijacked. I don’t know for sure, since @ptw30 is too kind to smack the shit out of me, but I had to have sounded like a chaotic jumble in reactions when Pidge realizes there’s a virus, tries to barricade it in, discovers it’s got a counter-attack tailored to defeat her defenses, and then must use her stored shutdown systems as final defense.

writer brain: okay, the series of events is kinda cliched but it’s handled solidly, moving at a good clip, aaaand yep there’s the backlash, aaaaand yep, the final pivot, dialogue is jargon-heavy which reduces tension slightly but that emotional reaction beat at the end, good job there

visual brain: not bad, kinda predictable angle, oh, that’s a nice shot, good grief hate that cliche, glasses do not go full reflective like that, ohh that’s a different angle, lovely contrast with the character’s words, not earth-shattering but solid composition

technology brain: FKN STOP IT THAT IS NOT HOW IT WORKS NO OMFG JUST STOP WTF OF COURSE THERE’S DEFENSES WTF WERE YOU BORN YESTERDAY FKN FIND THE VULNERABILITY NO THAT’S NOT HOW THIS WORKS THAT’S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS NO WONDER PPL NEVER GET WHAT WE DO GADAMMMIT ANKERLNSDFOIXCVUDX OMFG

mechanics brain: uhm, does this castle have no isolated systems? did no one in all this time ever look at the castle and say, gee, all of this is connected by a single computer system and boy maybe we should, like, isolate this shit, where are my physical real-world levers and a big red button that will physically break connections in a case like this wtf

architecture brain: my HOUSE has a shut-off valve so I can turn off all water to outside spigots when there’s a chance of freezing, without putting interior water pipes at risk, what genius built this castle and never thought to do the same for all their crucial and vulnerable systems?

philosophy brain: is this meant to shut the castle down, or an act intended to make the castle explode, how to draw a clear conclusion as to the moral reaction to such an act, ramping up danger gives impression that purpose is simply shut-down, as opposed to going for the jugular by taking out life-support vs turning castle into bomb, (technology brain interrupts to say FKN CASCADE FAILURE DAMMIT) and reaction is good but lacking something (writer brain pops in to say but emotional beat! we have emotional beat!) bc still not enough to leap from here to seeing friend as enemy, where is the ethical decision point to justify murder in self-defense

...you can see there’s a lot going on in any one scene, in my brain.

But that also means I can analyze anything -- from an entire story down to a single dialogue exchange or image -- from one perspective and find it satisfying. And there’s no real contradiction imo to turn around and in the very next analysis put on a different hat and be frothing at the mouth over all the failures and numerous flaws.

No work is perfect, just as no audience is a monolith and neither are any of the individual members of that audience. Every single one of us has experiences across many areas and will bring all of them to bear on our enjoyment of a story. Up to and including sometimes willfully shutting down parts when they get too noisy -- like the way I have to grit my teeth through stories showing tech stuff because visual media pretty much never gets it right.

Here’s the bottom line, though, and the one thing that will overrule every other complaint (not neutralize those complaints, mind you, only backburner them in comparison):

do I give a damn about the characters?

As long as the answer is yes, I’ll be riveted, regardless of the goings-on. And that’s where S6 was a fascinating object lesson in how my reactions to some characters have changed, thanks to events in S3/S4/S5.

I honestly skipped every scene with Coran fixing the castle. I don’t hate him; I just didn’t find him half as compelling as the other plot threads.

I tuned out roughly half of what Pidge had to say, because her descent into amorality (and the lack of ever being called on it) has turned her from one of my favorites into one who doesn’t deserve my time.

I only gave Allura half my attention, b/c her deus ex machina in S5 is too OP and that takes away a huge amount of risk. She’s a walking powerhouse now which means a lot less at stake, and what could’ve been a truly dramatic moment (Lance’s near-death) had no drama for me b/c of course Allura can make it all better. (Plus the compressed pacing in that episode meant the story ran roughshod over that reaction beat.)

I skipped Lance’s scenes once I figured out they’d amount to him pining away (but not actually doing anything about it) -- once again, everyone else is working hard and Lance is wrapped up in himself, and I’m tired of it. Get over it, act on it, move on, I don’t care, just shut up.

I paid attention to Lotor until he went over the edge. I’ve heard enough descent-into-madness speeches from fictional sociopaths, and he didn’t even present a good enough motivation to make his actions riveting.

Uh, did Hunk have anything to say? Other than doing engineering stuff in the first episode... frankly, a chunk of which I skipped ‘cause I’d seen that four-minute teaser. Too long, enough I had no interest in sitting through it again.

If Keith, Krolia, or Shiro was on the screen, I was on it. If it was the clone, though, I kinda half-listened. I wanted that one storyline resolved already, so I could decide whether to stop caring for any of these three, too.

I paid attention to the generals... until Axca revealed she’d been working with Lotor all along, and then I realized the story had been lying to me. I do not forgive that. When Zethrid and Ezor shrugged over previous betrayals (Narti) and agreed to work with Lotor, I stopped paying attention to them, too. I’m here for characters, not plot devices.

Also, Romelle was left-field unforeshadowed swerve exposition fairy with an accent almost as annoying as no-name-father’s attempt at, uh, idk what that accent was (but goddammit it hurt to listen to, so I just muted him when I saw his mouth move). Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll drop Romelle off at the nearest mall so she can go buy herself a reason to be in the story.

And lastly, wtf was that about the castle’s destruction, whhhhyyyyy did we get a larger reaction space for AN EMPTY SHIP than we did for, oh, say, LOSING THE CLONE who’d been part of the team for how many months? wtf was that.

If you look up at my list of reactions to the castle-virus point, you’ll notice that there aren’t any mentions of personal stakes or characters. At no point was I thinking, oh no will everyone be okay (or even oh no not the poor castle) -- because any remaining connection with the core cast was tenuous by that point, at best. I had minimal to no emotional reaction to Pidge’s final emotional beat, because I’ve lost all respect for her as a character, so I don’t care anymore whether she cares or not.

Which means that there will be things -- depending on the hat -- that I either have found, or may be shown (via other peoples’ analyses, usually) are worth my time and/or have a reason to be there and/or make me reconsider. But without that connection to the characters, at least half the story is just going to go by at arms-length for me, now, and that’s a lot harder to come back from, all things being equal.

#voltron legendary defender #vld spoilers #meta #analysis is my chocolate cake #come for the sugar stay for the salt #vld #voltron

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adampage · 8 years ago

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The Game

Characters: [Y/N], Triple H, Sami Zayn, Kevin Owens

"ahh ok! i really like angst with a happy ending! maybe fake relationship turned real??" (for triple H) - @deanammbrose

Word Count: 2,389

Warnings: death mention, angst, sad lovable characters. aha sorry Author’s Note: Thanks to @deanammbrose for the request! I struggled to write it at first but honestly, it needs a second part. It hasn’t even started yet. I can’t wait to continue! And to anyone who reads this - my requests are open (:

Tagging: @llowkeys / @mewsburger / @hardcorewwetrash / @blondekel77 / @xxmaddhatter39xx / @crowleysqueenofhell / @unabashedwwesmut / @alexahood21 / @lip-sync / @we-work-hard / @the-geekgoddes / @sjwrites22 / @welshwitch5 / @wrasslin-x / @roman-reigns-princess / @straight-outta-the-asylum / @idekwhatthisis / @wwetrashqueen / @reigns420 /

It had been nearly twenty years since Stephanie's death. The day after, Hunter had retired from the ring, and spent the rest of his days in the wrestling industry working behind the scenes with Vince. Or so he thought.

It was the December of 2014, and you and Kevin Owens were set to debut at NXT: R Evolution. Behind the scenes, your long-time friend Sami Zayn sat next to you, not at all nervous. Your leg shook up and down, hoping to shake away the anxiety pooling in your stomach. "Hey, everything's gonna be fine." "How do you know?" "Because I believe in you." You scoffed at his gesture, instantly regretting doing so. You placed your hand over Sami's, giving him a weak smile. "Sorry, it's just all very much for me." As you were about to speak again, a shadow appeared in front of the two of you, dark and brooding. "Mr. Helmsley," you stood, bright smile breaking across your face. The boss was here, dressed in a dark grey tailored suit and baby blue tie. You held your hand out for him, noticing how your back went straight and your posture changed dramatically in his presence. You hoped you weren't being too fake, honestly. "[Y/N], please, it's Hunter," he took your hand, giving it a firm shake and cupping it with both hands. "Big night for you." "Yeah, yes it is," you couldn't help the grin on your face. As easy as it was to change yourself in front of him, he always brought you back down to earth, to the matter at hand, swiftly and without pain. "I hope I don't let the crowd down. Or you, of course." "Don't worry about the crowd," he chuckled, "and definitely don't worry about me. As long as you can make yourself proud, it's all I can ask." He still hadn't let go of your hand. He lingered on it, until you broke into a smile again and nodded. "Thank you, sir." Hunter gave you a stern look, turning to face Sami, who had been silently observing your encounter from the bench. There was a strange, knowing look to Sami that made you wonder what he was contemplating. He looked up in time for Hunter to hold out his hand and receive it. "The man of the hour!" Hunter pulled Sami in for a hug, clapped him on the back. "Hey, Hunter. Good to see you, man." As they pulled away from each other, one of the backstage hands came and announced that your match was about to start. You looked back one more time at Sami to wish him good luck, hoping he'd wish it to you again, too, only to find him engaged in a conversation with Hunter that you couldn't even begin to hear as you were led away to gorilla.

The roar of the NXT crowd rang in your ears, nearly drowning out the thud of the referee's counts on the mat. "ONE. TWO. THREE!" The bell rang, drowned out quickly by the drone of the crowd. Chest heaving, legs nearly buckling beneath you, you stood, the ref taking your hand and lifting your fist in the air in triumph. Your opponent was still facedown on the mat. When the cheers died down, you kneeled next to her, pulling a strand of her bright colored hair back behind her ear. Your mouth leaned close, whispered in her ear something incomprehensible, leaving it to the audience to interpret what you'd said through your actions. You stood back up, a mischievous smirk on your face, and your music hit, the deep bass ominously ringing through the small arena. You slinked out beneath the bottom rope, careful to keep the same expression on your face. You shook your hair across one shoulder, gave the crowd a wink, and slithered away. Behind the curtain, Sami and Kevin were waiting, broad smiles on their faces. "Honestly, not quite sure how we're gonna top that," Sami embraced you, ruffled your hair. Kevin scoffed. "Okay, not sure if you were *that* good, but you did a great job out there, [Y/N]." You gave him a joking death glare, and pulled slightly back from your hug with Sami, looking at him seriously. "What does that say about you, knowing your two best friends are heels?" He scratched at the back of his neck, thinking. "Not sure. Maybe I just see the good in everyone, even if they're assholes." "Hey!" You and Kevin interjected simultaneously, a grin breaking on Sami's face. "I kind of regret you finding out about Kevin, though. I would've loved to have seen your reaction." "Are you kidding? That was the most predictable shit I ever-" Sami touched your elbow, signaling for you to shut the hell up. "Bad mouthing creative already, are we?" His voice sent shivers down your spine. You turned around, a defensive measure already on the tip of your tongue. "Well, I-" "I'm just joking around. Congratulations on your match, by the way. I have to hand it to you, you really pulled it off." "That's...really great, coming from you." He pulled you in for a hug, and you were amazed to find that he was extremely fit for his age. His suit did nothing to mask the body that wore it; you could feel his strong muscles rippling underneath. "But did you make yourself proud? Remember, I told you that's what matters." You thought about it, nose twitching in contemplation. "I'd say I did a pretty damn good job. He raised a brow, intrigued. "Cocky looks good on a woman. You know," he said, arms crossing, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, "you remind me of someone." "Who's that?" You asked, curious. Behind you, Kevin looked confused, wondering as well. Sami was quiet, blank as he stared at the floor, his expression unreadable even if you had seen it. Hunter's brows furrowed, and the shadow of a smile appeared across his lips. "Just...someone." And he walked off, very unprofessional-like. You turned back around to Sami, not at all surprised to find Kevin gone as his music hit in the arena. Sami, however, was deep in thought. "You're not worried about your match with Neville, are you?" "Hm?" He answered, clearly distracted. "Oh, um, no." You gave him a smirk. "Then what is it?" You poked him. "It's-it's nothing," he waved you off, "really." "Come on!" You eyed him doubtfully. "You're going to think I'm insane." You crossed your arms, giving him a hard stare. "Try me." He let out a breath. "All right then." He took a sip of his water bottle. You would think he would be worried about his match right about now. That was usually when he got the jitters, a mere hour before the match. Sami could spend the entire week preparing mentally, physically. To the point where he closed his eyes and had it all masterfully planned out, mapped perfectly in his brain and engrained beneath his eyelids. But this was different. Something had him on edge that you couldn't understand. "I think I'm in love with you." What?

Hunter had been walking down the hallway, back towards you and Sami. He was going to pitch something to you, an idea for your storyline. He was ecstatic. He figured with this new plan, both of you would have more time to speak, more reason to interact. He wasn't sure if you had felt what he felt every time you stood in each other's presence, but he wanted to test it out. I think I'm in love with you. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard that, a feeling of anxiety overwhelming him that he couldn't comprehend. He hadn't felt this way in a long time. I love you. And I know we've been friends for what feels like our entire lives, but I had to say it. Why? I don't know. Just felt like the right time. Hunter stood there, around the corner, listening intently. It was stupid, he knew. And not at all professional. In fact, he felt like a little kid doing it, he wanted to leave, but he couldn't bare it. He had to know how this played out, the fire in his gut unwilling to let him slip away. It was maddening. Sami, I don't know what to say. That's fine. You don-you don't have to say anything. I just needed to tell you. Sami, I- Just then, a backstage hand appeared, calling out for Hunter. Both you and Sami whirled around, confused because Hunter was nowhere in sight. The crew member went straight to Hunter, rounding the corner and telling him that he was needed in the tech van. His unusually gruff voice answered, and your stomach clenched. Had he heard everything? You certainly hoped not. You looked to Sami, who was just as confused. He shrugged.

"[Y/N], can I see you in my office, please?" "Sure thing, Hunter. I'll be right there." You hung up the phone, a steady power walk to his makeshift office leading you through the university arena's hallways. It had been more than two weeks since Sami's championship title win and your debut. Sami was out, spending time with his family in Canada, and you hadn't seen him since the day after his win, when you were saying goodbye as he caught his plane. It was awkward, and not a moment you were proud of. You quickly shook off the feeling of nervousness, that cold sweat you'd gotten when he hugged you coming back now. You couldn't afford to be nervous in Hunter's presence, even if it was an old, lingering feeling. It was shameful, how you'd acted. Cold, distant. Afraid. I'm not asking for your hand in marriage. I'm asking for a chance.

I don't know if I can give you that chance.

The look of hurt that passed by Sami's face, just for that fraction of a second where he wasn't paying attention to his features, it was enough to break your damn heart. It was gone as soon as it came, disappearing under his mesmerizing smile. And it hurt you all the more that he masked his pain. Where once his embrace had been the most comforting, it became the most unbearable. And it was your fault. So much for trying to shake the feeling, you thought, the door to Hunter's office looming in front of you now, that gut-wrenching regret eating at your insides. Of all the moments to feed off that horrible memory, and you chose right now. Fuck, you thought, here goes nothing. "Hey, [Y/N], how are you?" He motioned for you to sit in the seat opposite him. "I'm doin' all right, Hunter. You?" "Fine, fine. Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something." Oh, boy, you thought. Please don't let it be about Sami. All of this was even worse, knowing Hunter had heard Sami's confession. He hadn't mentioned it at all, so you were hoping he really had just been walking by and hadn't heard a thing. His brown eyes bore into you, assuring himself that you were paying attention. You tried your best to look as attentive as possible, but you couldn't shake Sami from your mind. "Are you okay?" He asked, hands together in front of him on the desk. "You seem a little out of sorts." "I'm fine," you replied quickly, not wanting to talk about it. "Really." You flashed Hunter a smile. "You sure?" "Absolutely." He eyed you curiously, doubtful. But after a couple seconds, he figured it best to let your strange behavior go. He got to the point. "I have a storyline proposition for you." Your brow arched. "Really? What is it?" You could feel your body slowing becoming more enthusiastic, your mind slowly drawing back to the matter at hand, the ugly thoughts of Sami's departure slowly trickling away as you looked at Hunter's eager face. "We were thinking a storyline where you were romantically involved with someone." If you had been drinking something, this would've been the perfect moment to spit it out. As it was, you had no beverage, so you made do by looking shocked and remaining silent. Hunter seemed to be awaiting some sort of response. "We were going to pair you with Kevin, make you this sort of heel powerhouse, but he's already set with his own betrayal storyline with him and Sami. We don't want to put too much on anyone's plate, but the other heel wrestlers don't really seem like a good fit. Baron, possibly, or even -" "I don't really feel comfortable doing that. With any of them, I mean." Hunter eyed you cautiously, begging the question, "Why's that?" "I don't know them very well. I just got here. Maybe someone else, that I had more chemistry with." "I'd say Sami, but he's a face, unfortunately." Your stomach dropped. "Not Sami." Your voice was firm, unquestionable. As if to defend your statement, or even to answer the probable follow-up of why, you said, "He's my friend. I don't want to make it awkward." As if it wasn't awkward already. You couldn't prove it, but you swore you saw a flash of relief cross Hunter's face, though you had no idea why. He seemed deep in thought for a minute. For a brief moment, his face lit up, as if he'd had an idea. You waited impatiently, wondering what he could have possibly thought. "What if it's a romance with someone outside of the ring?" "What? You mean like Regal? He's married, isn't he? Doesn't the entire audience know he's married?" You shrugged, "not that I mind being a mistress, I could do the whole mistress angle, but it's a little less believable when it's done in front of a live crowd, right? Maybe that's a little too complicated." His index finger pointed slightly in front of him, as if he was wagging his digit to some invisible object in front of him. His mind seemed to be somewhere else, engineering this complex idea. You sat, amazed, and realized now why they called him The Game. He was the master, and each and every wrestler, interviewer, or other on-screen personas were his chess pieces. "What if your love interest is me?"

Part Two

Last Note: was it bad?? tell me. give me your thoughts. I need thoughts. help me do the word thing. please and thank you - Emiliana

#triple h imagine #wwe imagine #wwe angst #triple h #stephanie mcmahon #sami zayn #kevin owens #mine #my fics

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kestrelsward · 8 years ago

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an intervention

Pairing: Jyn Erso/Cassian Endor

Word Count: 1946

Setting: A mission. There’s undercover action going on, and then there’s action going on. [the hopefully and steadily growing one-shots collection is on ao3 // ffnet]

She knows Cassian has seen the target - woman’s image enough times to remember how she looks like, but he does it, again, now, as he puts his credits into his pockets, enough to include as the alibi of an influentially-wealthy human in Tatooine.

Her mission is simple: simply disappear into the masses and waits for the opportunity, if need be, to distract (Solo had nudged her gleefully and muttered: just for the sake of it, and smirked when she landed an elbow into his ribs, which had earned a warning glare from Draven).

Cassian’s mission is to brush the dust off the contacts Willix has been gaining through the years, to meet a recently-surfaced source of data leak from the Scarif reclamation project being conducted by the Empire. There are risks, the whole team being the ones who actually are responsible for the destruction of the base, but a risk Draven is willing to take, Cassian to plot a two-person undercover operation, and for Jyn to volunteer as his second (under Princess Leia’s not-subtle-at-all looks).

So here they are now: Jyn in a hastily cut-off dress that was lying around the base, and some hosiery and shoes that Shara procured for her; Kes’ spare arm strap for weapons only fits around her thigh, which is just fine. Cassian in his tailored uniform, the collar stiff enough that when Jyn had reached over to take his headset to bid Bodhi goodbye, it audibly scrapped against her palm and caused Cassian to jumped, cursing, and gripped her hand in his gloved one. The planet is not cold enough to warrant any outerwear, and she isn’t going to pass away the excuse of needing to head home because of the chill.

“An hour, then in and out.” Cassian is saying as he slips a vibroblade into her holster. He must have felt the shape of her extra palm-sized blaster and mutters about Han Solo and Leia before pushing away from her, officially starting the mission.

Jyn hangs back and waits in line as Willix flashes his uniform and gets into the bar without, and glances around and across to the grubbier parts of Mos Eisley, separated only by a sandy street.

She spends half the time waiting to get into the bar, and indulging anyone who strikes up a conversation with her, about her potential date, an officer, no less, and preens under their wishes of luck and fortune. She cracks her toes in her heeled shoes every time they told her so. She is just getting used to fluently offering up her daily routine as a secretary in the city building and how the laws to ban the Jawases from edging closer into the city going when the ones minding the door yells at her to enter the bar or get the kriff out of the line. Jyn offers a somewhat genuine smile as she cheerily promised the ones behind her that she will see them inside.

The bar is not as busy as they predicted, but crowded enough she doesn’t realize the bar-keep is trying to get her attention.

“Are you the girl in the velvet dress? Your date is waiting over….” The bartender grimaces. “Sorry about that. At least the drink’s on him.”

It’s only because of the face, Jyn uses the motion of hoisting herself up to the chair to emphasize her scoff and tucks into her drink.“Huh.” she supplies, and takes the glass from the bartender. The clip is still stuck in the bottom and palming it, she scratches at her collar, for the benefit of the cover if the unfamiliar bartender decides to stay gauging her reaction, which he does not, and slips the data into her bra.

The bar, and her height for once, gave her a vantage point, the rest of the room reflects to the mirror behind the counter and she shifts slightly, stopping herself from rolling her dress back down, to nonchalantly prop her chin on her arm so she can keep her gaze trained at the back corner, just as Cassian has assigned himself to be.

It is the drink, she tells herself, yet she can’t make herself look away; her eyes sears the image into her head. How Cassian’s fingers tangles into her hair, slicking through her golden head, how their heads contrasts and basks in the spiralling lights, how he looks so normal and carefree in his clothes, how the woman seems to embrace him without the air of desperation, how he is touching her without fear, smoothing his hands down her back.

Something grips her the way pretending never did: they are on a mission, they are both playing a part, but how normal Cassian looks is what she can’t look away from. He looks like someone that belongs there, not because Cassian Andor is good at his job, no, but in a fairer world, his life’s worry will be spending his nights and earnings on the gambling tables, or drinking and laughing with his friends that doesn’t worry when they will be called to their deaths, or meeting a woman’s eyes across the room and doesn’t need a reprogrammed-droid’s liability assessment in his ear if he wants to bring her home.

If they, existing in that kinder universe somewhere, does get the chance to cross, will he turn his head to glance back at her? Will she choose the chair next to his at the bar? Will he admire her from afar, his brain churning out questions he knows he will not fumble over? Will she allow him a smile that only has the meaning of wanting to know more of him?

As he glances up and meets her eyes in the mirror, Jyn blinks, once, and Cassian lets go of the woman. The woman purses her lips and covers it to stop laughter from escaping. Willix offers her a smile and gestures back to their glasses.

Jyn left a tip and with the extra credits, goes over to the music booth and abruptly changes the tune. The night is well underway that no patrons rises their heads to protest. She offers up another bright smile to the minders by the doors before heading out into the cooled night, keeping her chin up, towards the stars as the guise of making sure there is no surveillance on the rooftops. The night is still young and she doesn’t even need the cover of the lively night crowd for her to force the power-source box open with her blade. Her ferocity is not necessary, and it does the job too well. Sparks flies from the wiring and the lights from this side of the city falls from the buildings and there are surprised yells, mixed with a few screams.

The secretary from the city building who got stood up by her officer slips away from the city, distraught that her prospects and progress to pass discriminatory laws have all failed within the day. She even wistfully waved farewell to the two men who stood behind her before.

It is a mission for two, and she is thankful and not at the same time, that K-2 did not come along. Jyn leaps into the ship, satisfyingly ripping the dress clean up her thigh. The ship is started, humming when three fist and a flat slap signals his arrival.

She knows he expects the whole verifying procedure, but she is not in the mood. Jyn grabs her pack and her combat boots as she opens the door, and heads down to the lower deck with a brief acknowledgement. Then, without even glancing back, she slips the data chip from her dress, takes it between two fingers, and balances it on the top railing.

Cassian jumps down the ladder, the same time he yanks his cap from his hair; his fringe falls across his forehead and he roughly pushes them back, but it does not comply. Jyn turns her head back to the controls, and hears his gruff sigh and him walking towards the communication port. She keeps an eye on the secondary transmission screen and waits, until his second attempt from trying to impatiently force-feed the data chip in goes through and transmitted, before vacating the pilot seat and back to the body of the ship.

Cassian has been gritting his teeth, his eyes ablaze and she smothers his apology into his mouth, her tongue licking into his lips, and she can’t help her groan as his hands cages her waist too tightly; she can feel him try to indent his fingers against her skin and flesh, searing through her thin dress. Her hair is done in a long side-braid and she feels him try to tangle his fingers into her hair and found no purchase, realizing the difference. She takes the chance, to remind herself, that as she pulls the back of his shirt up and spreads her hand over the base of his waist, she can count the ridges of his tailbone, that when he gasps into her mouth, it is not pain now, but it flares him backwards, a whimper escaping him as her hand cushions him from the hard steel of the spacecraft.

She can’t help thinking that maybe he does like her hair long like this. His fingers came up to trace the bow of her lips, and she ends up kissing his fingers, still covered by gloves, as he firmly passes the paint from her mouth.

He brushes the hair by her cheeks away, cupping her under her cheekbones. “You, Jyn,” he murmurs, pressing the words into the bridge of her nose, which explains the soreness of it, and moisture passes to the corners of her eyes as she shuts them tight. He is still there, his knees bending slightly so their legs can tangle in the right places for him to reach her height. “I fight by you. With you.”

Jyn doesn’t reply, because he knows she is upset, and he will not take what she wants to say seriously. She does know why she is upset, but she doesn’t know why she is crying when he is trying to re-memorize her. Maybe she does, she thinks as she peels part the uniform as he tears off his gloves, and his hot hands cups her face, grinning as he brushes the rest of the lip color from her chin before taking her mouth again, angling his head up to her.

She allows herself to be cruel, intentionally cruel for once, and his groan tells her that it is what he wants, too. So her leg stays between his legs, and she lets her lips stray, sponging her kisses from his lips, to his jawline, to his temple and only goes back to his mouth as he utters her name.

Her eyes opens when he shifts back and watches him gathers air, how his long lashes flutter, how his forehead creases. “I fight,” he says, skimming the tip of his nose against hers, “I fight to be with you.”

He leans in to kiss her again, and he is tangling her legs around his waist and tosses her shoes off her feet and she holds on, fiercely.

(Back in the confines of his room, when he presses his chest to her back, his nose at the crook of her arm, his steady breathing matching hers, she allows herself to savor those words. And she is calm, then, content to stay in this universe.

She utters the words that she has been cradling too protectively into his hair, and thinks it as a rehearsal, a promise and an acceptance all at once.)

#rebelcaptain #au: this world or any other #fanfiction #rebelcaptain fanfiction #therebelcaptainnetwork #dailyrebelcaptain #jyn x cassian #cassian x jyn #dude who am i writing slight-fluff where people don't die????

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deltaengineering · 8 years ago

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Spring Anime 2017 Part 1: woke up late

This time I prepared so I could get to the procrastinating right with the first post! Yay! Let’s get this show on the road.

See also:

• spring anime 2017 part 2: girlfriendship is magic

• spring anime 2017 part 3: comfy and easy to wear

• spring anime 2017 bonus round: things you already knew were good

Alice to Zouroku

So get this, a pretty girl with psychic superweapon powers escapes from a lab she’s been in her whole life and now has to adapt to the real world with the help of a guy she stumbles upon, all while being chased by her superweapon former friends. But in a shocking twist, this is actually better than Elfen Lied! Not being written by someone as brutally incompetent as Lynn Okamoto is a start, but the real change here is that our heroine is less murder machine and more genuinely cute, and more importantly the guy she ends up with is not a harem ringleader dorklord, but a grumpy elderly florist. Yeah, we’re skipping the recent trend of dadfeel anime and diving headfirst into granddad feels (I don’t know if aging otaku are quite old enough to fully self-insert yet, but the same principle applies). It’s a low hanging fruit, but that’s what makes it work; a deliberate, contemplative pace and delightfully whimsical music by TO-MAS also help. So far, so good, were it not for the fact that this is only one aspect of the show. Of course a show like this would have an action half as well, and that one’s pretty garbage. Not only is it directed with zero impact or excitement, it also relies on horrible CG a lot - I really don’t want to be reminded of Hand Shakers this quickly again, thank you very much. Plus, it runs with a Alice in Wonderland metaphor, which is baby’s first literary reference and doesn’t bode well about the intellectual ambitions of the project. So we have one half that’s admittedly effective, but also very predictable and which desperately needs to go somewhere to pay off. The other half just plain sucks and has little chance to improve. I think I’ll give this one a few more chances to sort out its priorities, but it’s definitely not a sure thing.

Busou Shoujo Machiavellianism

A cocky guy walks into a school full of pretty girls with weapons who have managed to sissify all the dudes by forcing them to crossdress. He then proceeds to troll them with his rugged charm. You know, it’s really not that easy to offend me but damn this show is trying. Apart from bottom-tier harem crap setup, this show also looks like ass and is tremendously boring; a few well done action cuts do not in fact excuse “fights” that mostly consist of exposition about special attacks, or terminally uninspired direction. Macchiavellism is the worst of shounen fightmens crossed with the worst of harem LNs, plus some of the worst jokes bad anime comedy can come up with. It’s not even audacious enough in its badness to boggle the mind; I could watch this if I was interested in adding another 1/10 to my MAL, but that’s about all I can appreciate about it.

Frame Arms Girl

Speaking of unholy combinations, here’s Gundam Build Fighters x Rozen Maiden x Strike Witches: A girl stumbles into a sentient mecha musume model kit that spends its time explaining the technical details of model building to her and attracts other model kits that want to fight. It’s an ad for model kits, what do you expect. There’s no characters, the plot is utterly uninteresting, the action’s bad, it looks subpar to bad, and the only high point is how brazenly it reads to you from the manual.

Gin no Guardian

Here’s your latest Chinese webcomic adaptation from your friends at Haoliners Animation League (Shanghai) Inc., whose output has been asymptotically approaching the quality level of a bad Japanese cartoon for years now: Closer than ever, but still not quite there. Maybe they should stop picking bad webcomics with incomprehensible nonsense plots as source material, just sayin’. So this is about a dude who beats up CG zombies in the spirit world but the actual story is how he got there? Or something? It manages to look barely alright and even has some visually striking design work, but its half-length run time prevents it from forming any semblance of coherence and I’m not about to ask for further clarification.

Oushitsu Kyoushi Haine

In a vaguely 18th century Germanic kingdom, a grown ass man with the body of a ten year old and a snarky disposition is hired to become the tutor of an instaharem of fabulous princes. I really don’t get who this is for; obviously the harem is straight out of a PSP otome dating sim, but it’s lacking the obvious self-insert dimwitted main girl, and no, it isn’t gay romance either. Even though it’s a comedy, that aspect does not seem to be played for outright parody. The source material is running in GFantasy, a shounen title (but not one as specifically elementary schooler-focused as Jump, it also carries fujo favorites such as Black Butler). Dubious provenance aside, Haine is moderately funny if nothing else, mainly due to the deadpan reactions of the main character to these ridiculous dreamboats. It just also drags more than a little, with long conversations that aren’t very entertaining all the time. It’s watchable compared to a lot of the stuff out this season, but I remain unconvinced.

Rokudenashi Majutsu Koushi to Akashic Records

After Macchiavellism already obliterated the battle harem bingo, here’s our next winner. The setup’s more or less the same and in some respects it’s even more formulaic (the school is actually a magic school for magic people, princesses, duels, &c), but Akashic Record is not quite as odious simply by focusing on being a comedy first and foremost and pulling that off at least on a technical level - it has good visual execution and comedic timing. The question is just how much credit you want to give it for that when the jokes themselves still suck, and that’s of course ignoring the entire setup being Light Novel as all fuck. Kinda seems familiar actually, because this is not entirely unlike to what KonoSuba did to the isekai genre, and people keep trying to tell me that that was totally great. Well, go watch this one then, motherfuckers.

Sagrada Reset

But there’s always the other kind of light novel, the one where high schoolers talk about life, people and the world. Think Bakemonogatari or OreGairu. Sagrada Reset wants a slice of that pie and starts by stealing the magical realism conceit from classic™ visual novel Wind ~A Breath of Heart~: There’s a remote town in Japan where everyone has superpowers, but if they leave the town they instantly forget about it. Oops, i guess I just spoiled Wind’s midgame, but I have to since Sagrada Reset puts this stuff right upfront because it has to discuss technicalities (at length) to make its plot work. Yeah, that’s how I like my magical realism, thoroughly explained and conceived by people who should write wikis, not fiction. There’s a girl who can reset time, but only once per arbitrary period of time and also including herself, which means she only finds out she already did it once it doesn’t work again. So that’s pretty useless, except there’s a guy whose superpower is having his memory unaffected by this. They have to work together to solve... some problems, I suppose. This whole idea seems to have potential in a JoJo subplot sort of way, but it’s completely sunk by the way the thing is written, since apparently the writer has never met a human being in his life. It’s entirely made of these pseudo-deep highschool stoner philosophy conversations presented in a lifeless inflection by people who stand around like robots on battery saver mode. This seems to be intentional (at least the term “robot” is thrown around a couple of times, which is certainly ominous), but it also makes for an excruciating and interminable watching experience.

Sakura Quest

Since Sakura Quest was announced, I have been gleefully throwing water on the hype of people who expected this to be the next Shirobako. After all, how likely is it for lightning to strike twice, especially considering Mizushima is not in the director’s seat? Surely it was all just wishful thinking, I want a S2 of Shirobako as much as everyone but I just don’t trust anime. Well consider me fucking told, since apparently among the parties wishing for more Shirobako is P.A. Works, and unlike the anitwitterati they can make it happen. The actual brand name seems to be reserved for a Mizushima project, but I would have no trouble believing that Sakura Quest is a spinoff about Aoi’s sister in the boonies; Shirobako Sunshine, if you will. The initial setup is mirrored here; Yoshino is not a young professional starting her dream job, but a young professional unable to score a dream job (or any job) so she settles for a random one she’s very skeptical of, but will undoubtedly learn to love. Apart from that, well, it’s Shirobako: The positive tone, the large cast of likeable oddballs, the relatable writing about post-highschool problems, and it even looks completely identical. I’ll still be realistic about it: Shirobako isn’t great for what its ideas were, but for how thoroughly it delivered in the long run, and this is by no means guaranteed to also happen with Sakura Reset Quest. For an episode 1 though, it’s like a dream come true, and P.A. are setting themselves up for seasonal double domination with this and Uchouten Kazoku S2.

Souryo to Majiwaru Shikiyoku no Yoru ni

Enough gushing, here’s 5 minutes of porn. Okay, it’s josei porn so there may still be gushing involved if you know what I mean, nyuk nyuk. Er, sorry about that. Sooooo there’s a sexually frustrated woman who meets her school crush who’s now a priest, and then they fuck. With a staff made up mostly of (non-josei, but hey) hentai OVA veterans, there is really only one way this could go. I appreciate the brazenness as usual, but I really don’t know how much steamy harlequin romance tailored to TV broadcast standards I want to watch.

Tsugumomo

I’ve seen some warnings about Tsugumomo based on its source material which is a manga with 1. a very high level of art quality and 2. content that has been described as “makes To-Love Ru Darkness look family friendly”. This may explain why it has not been licensed. It doesn’t explain why this first episode is fairly tame though; sure, it’s very much an ecchi comedy, but you get those from time to time and Tsugumomo is not any more raunchy than what I’m used to seeing (and it accomplishes this even without obvious BD-advert censoring). That incidentally also removes any reason to watch it: The plot is as basic “guy gets magical girlfriend for purposes of fights and/or walking in on her naked in the bath” from 15 years ago as they come, and it’s suspiciously well animated, but not well enough for that to be a selling point. Maybe it will get real skeevy eventually, I won’t be around to find out.

Warau Salesman NEW

Warau Salesman starts strong with ultra cool, Saul Bass-inspired opening credits, but that’s about all it has to offer. It’s based on a “black comedy” manga from the 60s by one of the Doraemon authors, and oh boy can you tell. Not only are the character designs 60s-tastic (so at least the Osomatsu-san fujos can schlick to something while they wait for the S2 of that), but so are the sensibilities: The titular salesman goes around tempting frustrated office workers with doing something moderately irresponsible, such as drinking in your lunch break or spending above your means, and then ruins their life when they actually do it. It’s like Twilight Zone written by your HR department. In the 60s. This stuff would have been outdated even in 1989, when it was animated for the first time – hence the “NEW”. I don’t know, it just seems mean-spirited, obvious and pointless, and most importantly I put the “black comedy” in quotes because in addition to not being very black, it’s not funny in any way, and unlike regular anime comedy I can’t even see what’s supposed to be funny.

#anime #impressions #spring2017 #Alice to Zouroku #Busou Shoujo Machiavellianism #Frame Arms Girl #Gin no Guardian #Oushitsu Kyoushi Haine #Rokudenashi Majutsu Koushi to Akashic Records #Sagrada Reset #Sakura Quest #Souryo to Majiwaru Shikiyoku no Yoru ni #Tsugumomo #Warau Salesman NEW

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