Welcome to my blog! I've been a Mortal Kombat Fan since 1992. Old lady at 35. DISCLAIMER: This blog is NOT FOR MINORS! My primary account is The Silvery Moon Maiden.
A/N: Aw, geez. It's been so long since I last wrote a piece. Then again, my focus has been on my digital art and Clair Obscur: Expedition 33. So, here's a piece that I wrote as an exercise. Brownie points if someone gets the movie reference I made in here. Also, I can also see Johnny Cage watching this particular movie, but that's just me.
@incognitobobcat for your reading pleasure.
Warnings: Suggestive
Sakura was trying to look for something nice to wear for a selfie to send to Tomas. Her boyfriend was out of the country visiting his adoptive brother and it would be another two weeks before he got back. She had thought about a cute nightie that she had just bought recently. It wasn't much. It was a simple, red slip, but she thought she could make it work with the cute, jewel-encrusted garter she had made recently.
"Hmm.."
She put it on and modeled for a little bit, trying to get a bit of inspiration. She could do the pearls again, she thought, but she wanted something a little bit different. Then she giggled before digging through her crystal jewelry. She found her heart-shaped rose quartz pendant before ridding herself of her red slip.
"It's cliche, but it works."
The nude shot she was thinking of taking would be the one she would send to him last. It was quite famous, too, which was why she thought it cliche. At the same time, she wasn't exactly sure if her boyfriend watched the movie from which the shot was from. Nevertheless, she knew he would appreciate it all the same. Thinking about it, she recalled the pose that was done in the scene, and it reminded her of how her statue of Aphrodite was posed. She supposed that was where the inspiration came from.
As she was setting up her camera stand, she spotted her silver high heels. Sakura tilted her head as she thought some more before deciding on sending him another sexy shot. For that particular shot, she would stand by the fireplace and make it look like she was welcoming him home. Sakura couldn't keep the mischievous grin off her face as she pulled out an ankle bracelet.
"Say, that is an idea."
She knew that she would have to leave an offering for Aphrodite after this. Sakura got to work...
=================
Sakura was sipping her wine and enjoying chocolate-covered strawberries when Tomas texted her. They exchanged pleasantries and chatted about their respective families. The young woman was absolutely dying to show Tomas what she had been up to.
Tomas: What have you been up to?
Sakura: Oh, just a mini-photo session.
She was so giddy when she showed him her first selfie shots in her red slip. His response was as she had hoped and she could almost hear the purr of appreciation in his text.
Tomas: Very nice.
Sakura: But wait! There's more! 😘
Sakura was kicking her feet like a little schoolgirl at that point. She showed the one of her by the fireplace in nothing but heels next.
Tomas: Sakura, you're not helping me. You're lucky I'm alone!
Sakura: You ain't seen nothing yet. 😇
She just loved pushing his buttons. She finally showed off the one selfie that she held back. It was one of her lying completely nude across one of the couches Tomas used in his photo sessions. All she wore was her rose quartz pendant and gazed at the camera with wide, violet eyes. She knew she was going to give him a repeat performance when her boyfriend got home.
Tomas: Sakura, you're going to be the death of me.
Sakura: I knew you'd appreciate it.
Tomas: I also appreciate the nod to a certain movie.
So, I decided to do a reading with my moonlight deck for the snow moon, and I got some pretty interesting cards.
The Queen of Pentacles
The King of Swords
The King of Pentacles
The Queen of Swords
I'm seeing that balance is a theme here. 'Parenting' if you will. Admittedly, my mental health went to crap last week, and I believe I just need to re-center myself. I've been really hard on myself when I didn't need to be. Overall, it's basically saying that everything is going to be okay. Love yourself, but don't be stupid either. You're doing great and take your time. You'll get there.
I really love this interpretation because it is a good reminder that we need to take care of ourselves. A lot of us are working jobs and are most likely burned out to the max. I decided that a week off from work would be a good way to deal with the stress. If you got that PTO, use it. There's a reason why it's there. It's taken me a little while to remind myself that it's okay not to be an overworked waitress at a luxury community.
The scene before the final fight with painted!Renoir fucks me up every time for multiple reasons (I feel that "I'm tired" in my bones, Ben Starr had no business going that hard on the suicidal desperation thing), but one of the things I never consciously processed before is the "I refuse to lose my son" — "That son was a stranger". Because. What do you mean Verso is so stuck in the "I'm a meaningless copy" mindset that his knee-jerk reaction to these words of HIS OWN FATHER is to talk about the "real" Verso. What do you mean it doesn't even occur to him that this Renoir, the painted Renoir, the Renoir who was painted to be his father and who has been his father for decades — that Renoir is talking about him. That Renoir is not talking about the "original". That Renoir loves him. That sometimes people care about HIM. That it's possible to refuse to lose HIM, not the already-lost one. Verso 😭
Hi, everyone. I know I haven't been active for a while. I also just had surgery a couple of days ago, so I'm currently in recovery. I'll probably be scrolling on and off. If I write, it's definitely going to be on my own time.
I had another post about Aline stashed away. A post I talk about why Aline is so interesting to me and how she shapes the narrative. I wish that were my first post about her. But it's not...
This is about how much Aline is almost universally hated in this fandom. In the fandom that claims to enjoy complex characters. But I guess complexity only reaches a certain threshold of acceptance.
When the character is a mother, much like real life, the standards are completely different. No, you're not allowed to be an individual with a single flaw. The sister can be flawed, ruthless, and have her own reasoning. The father can be flawed, driven by his emotions, and have his own perspective. The son can be flawed, desperate, and act on his own views. The daughter can be flawed, lost, scared, and struggling with her own motives. But the mother? Of course not.
Mothers live under this Holy Mary standard. Anything but pure devotion and a complete lack of individuality and personal feelings isn't accepted. At the very best, people understand but frown heavily upon it. And it's a very black and white (heh) thinking. You either get everything right or everything wrong. Any mistake a mother makes is a window of possibility to put her on the stake. Surely, she never loved her children then. Surely, she despises them. Surely, she's a bitch.
I could argue in favor of Aline, I could try to show people are painting (heh) her into a far worse version than is presented, but is there really a fucking point? When every slight argument in favor of her is always shut down with how she failed as a mother? I can't even get to the conversation about her as a painter, about an artist's expression. How could I even reach that point if everything is cut short before that? A mother broke down at a traumatic event. She should have been stronger for her kids, more present, caring. She failed. Therefore, everything else is discarded, she is a shit human being and isn't allowed depth or empathy like the rest of the cast.
Do people dislike Aline as a character, or do they dislike that mothers are humans with flaws and emotions beyond unconditional love? I assure you, she did love her children. If she had made PAlicia any other way, people would still find an issue with it. There was no way out of this for her. She's mommy issues villain now, and I can't argue with people's projections. Because all I wanted was to discuss Aline.
(When Alicia is daddy's little favorite, that's an endearing and fun little quirk of a father. If Aline has a favorite, she's a toxic boy mom. Also, you don't look at the person you supposedly hate and despise and feel their pain back tenfold. That's not how it fucking works... And how ironic to see the fandom obsessed with her creations and still demonize the woman...)
A/N: Because @mistress-light was big-brained and imagined Renoir in the tub. As per her suggestion, he's chilling a few months after Alicia's birth.
RxA: Let the Old Man have a smoke, drink, bath, and cuddle. In hindsight, this is a lot of things to ask for, but c'mon. Let him.
Renoir would be the first to admit this was a peculiar way to celebrate.
Oh, they’d had their party and their announcement to the press to celebrate Alicia’s birth. The Painters Guild and their contemporaries in the Parisian nobility had been nothing short of effusive with their praise, tinged as it was with less decorous amusement. A third child for the Dessendre patriarch and matriarch, now well along in years, ten years after their son's birth.
He remembered bowing his head to speak against Aline’s ear, whispering in the otherwise cacophonous room. “You would think I had announced and then paraded a bastard child through the Salon.”
Aline chewed the inside of her cheek, gray eyes glittering. “I imagine that might have endeared you to them, mon amour. Alas, this only makes you stranger.”
He’d grumbled, pressing a kiss to her temple before taking their daughter. Alicia was such a little thing. Even Verso, born so prematurely, had not struck him as so delicate. The girl stared up at him with her huge eyes, placid and curious. A fine auburn fuzz already covered the crown of her head. If Clea was their perfect mix and Verso was his son, Alicia was her mother’s daughter.
Whatever reservations he’d had, whatever fears, had bled away the moment he’d looked into her face.
So, yes, a celebration. One of Renoir's very own, away from the crowds and everything else. Renoir celebrated the new addition to his family in blissful silence, welcome and necessary after the pace of these past months. A bath, a smoke, a drink—what more could a man want?
He sighed, tipping his head back against the tub’s rim. The slightly sweet scent of pipe smoke drifted in the bathroom air, blending with the residual floral notes from the surrounding bouquets. The maid had opted for a touch of indulgence when running the bath, adding a few drops of rosewater to the tub. Truth be told, it was a bit much for his taste. Certainly more in line with Aline’s preferences. Renoir plucked a rose petal from the water’s surface. The whole thing gave the impression that one was bathing in the garden. A desire he could safely say he’d never expressed.
Aline had laughed.
This you find excessive? And the rest of the manor? Understated?
He snorted, plucking his drink from the small table. The whiskey was a favorite of his, aged for more than two decades, smooth and smoky, tinged with notes of caramel and vanilla. It burned only slightly, just enough, before fading to pleasant warmth. In some ways, it resembled a fine cognac, though less cloyingly sweet. He let the whiskey linger on his tongue, inhaling through his nose. The profile blossomed to life, expanding, finishing with a hint of oak.
Any residual tension bled away. Renoir allowed himself to relax into the water, eyes lulling shut. Sunlight cut through the oversized bay windows, further warming his skin, kissing his face.
Life was as near to perfect as one could hope. His elder children continued to thrive. Despite the physician’s concerns, both Aline and Alicia were blessedly healthy. And in marked contrast to her siblings, their daughter seemed perfectly content to sleep through the night. Renoir could not express enough gratitude for this fact. He’d barely survived Verso at thirty. At forty?
He’d feared a newborn might kill him.
Renoir toasted his own good fortune and finished the remainder of his drink. He poured another finger of whiskey into the glass.
The gentle padding of bare feet across the tile caused him to crack one eye open. Aline lingered in the bathroom doorway, a gentle smile playing across her sharp features. She was always lovely, but he found her particularly striking, standing there, bathed in sunlight, too tired to bother with any pretense. Tonight, she was neither Paintress nor Council member. She was the woman he loved, unburdened by her station, delighted to have a moment to breathe.
“I should paint you,” she said, pushing away from the wall. Her robe fluttered around her as she moved, pale and gauzy. “You look so content.”
“You could. But I would prefer you to join me.”
“And ruin the scene?”
Renoir held his drink out to her. “You will never be anything short of the most welcome addition, ma merveille.” He waited for her to take a sip before adding, a touch slyly, “As you well know.”
Aline smirked, shrugging. She brought the glass to her lips again. “I do.” His wife set the drink aside, untying her robe and letting it slip from her shoulders. It pooled around her feet like a spill of white silk. Renoir admired her figure, still softer in the aftermath of her pregnancy, until she laughed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Renoir, it is cold out here. If you’d be so kind—”
He chuckled, offering his hand. Aline eased into the tub, settling back against his chest. She made a contented noise, relaxing into the overheated water, as she hugged his arm across her chest. He took another sip of his drink, offered it to her, and then slumped back, perfectly content.
He refilled the tub once more when the water began to cool, unwilling to break from the comfort of the moment. Aline turned over, burying her face in his chest, drowsing. He smoked the remainder of his pipe (carefully, after Aline advised him not to spill ash in her hair).
For that evening, life was perfect. Renoir felt purely happy.
Sakura felt very much like the goddess Venus at this moment. She could almost feel her very presence coursing through her veins as she posed once more in nothing but pearls. This time, the photoshoot was in a lake under the moonlight, and complimented Tomas for thinking of it. Obviously, they were far away from civilization so they could actually do the photoshoot, and the water was warm enough for Sakura to tolerate for long periods of time. Tomas was nothing but accommodating towards his subjects.
"I have to hand it to you, Tomas. You're quite the genius."
"I wouldn't call myself a genius but thank you." He responded humbly.
Mischief overtook Sakura in that moment. While Tomas was readjusting his camera, she splashed water all over herself. The young man looked up, momentarily startled. His subject gave him an impish grin as water droplets trailed down her body. She silently gave thanks to the goddess for the sudden idea, although she did wish she had the foresight to wear her rose quartz necklace.
"I hope this inspires you a little."
Tomas smirked as he raised his camera. In the time that he came to know Sakura, he had discovered that this shy woman had a very playful side to her. In any case, he adored her, and he didn't need the goddess to tell him that. He took a few photos. While the majority would go towards his portfolio, he was definitely keeping some for himself.
"Oh, it inspires me, my pretty moon flower."
Sakura blushed and giggled. It was a name that her boyfriend gave her since he started these moonlight photoshoots. She couldn't get over it. A classmate of hers had commented that she looked like a woman in love. The young woman looked at the artist upon the shore as she held her pose. Gods, he was wonderful, and he truly treated her like princess and worshipped her like a goddess. She wouldn't give him up for anything. Maybe her classmate was right.
