#it’s so fun to just bathe in atmosphere and not worry about plot as much

[ninawolv3rina]

Character design hours with Lazenwyn “Laz” Atwater! (He/they)

P1: Stolen formal wear, borrowed Guardian uniform

P2: Shirtless, also neck slit for fun i guess, and Sidewinder (his sword)

P3: all layers of his usual outfit

[thegeminisage]

star trek update time. earlier tonight, my eyes were cursed with star trek generations, a very very bad movie. if you don't know the big spoiler for this movie (the character death), please stop reading here. or keep reading actually i'm not your mom. fuck this movie anyway.

with the tos movies, i tried to keep notes on notepad as i watched so as to better type up a "liveblog" later. i was a bit spotty at remembering to do that this time, but i have enough to put together a reasonable write-up. here's kind of how it went

cried multiple times during this movie. first time was when kirk showed up because i knew it was the last time we were ever gonna see him. got bonus aftershock tears when i saw scotty and chekov - i was under the impression it was JUST kirk. second time, i THINK, was when he showed up again, though i just misted up a little. big boo-hooing when he mentioned spock, naturally. MORE crying when he finally bit it, though it was mostly because i was angry!!! and finally, even though i promised myself i wouldn't cry over data, i did start sobbing when he was reunited with his cat. gave myself a crying headache.

it was difficult watching kirk be on the bridge and want to be captain and he's not captain. and then crisis strikes and oh yeah he is. and really, the captainly thing to do WAS to go down to the lower decks and do whatever the fuck. needs of the many. he saved that guy's life. that would have been a fine death.

it was a little ruined by chekov going "was there somebody in there?" like to me it struck me more as funny than anything

oh, spotting guinan in the tos era made me absolutely thrilled btw. i missed her so much in s7 it was UNREAL.

OH YEAH AND. sulu's daughter. wah. ik aos sulu is gay do we think tos sulu is gay too. either way i;m very happy for him

apparently one of the guys in this is from succession. i'm choosing to blame this whole debacle on him.

switching directly to a fucking holodeck scene KILLED me. i HATE the holodeck. at first i thought they were giving worf a retirement party to send him to ds9 but they were just doing all of that for fun. deanna's outfit was hot though. also, data shoving beverly WAS FUNNY tng writers just hate autistic people

i have mixed feelings about data and the emotions chip. i was surprised they never covered it in tng proper and i think it would have been handled better there...data having the chip WAS the reason soren got away, which makes it plot-important, but it felt like a b-plot to a normal tng episode and this is supposed to be a feature film. instead it was a tng two-parter with a budget and william shatner. it was fun watching data experience emotions (happiness, terror) and struggle to control them, but there ironically wasn't enough time to really get into it, except when picard gave him the tough love speech, which i think was uncalled for. why is he so against suicide when it's data when he was out here telling worf to kill himself over an empty barrel??

titty klingon sisters. i never remember their names or their faces but i ALWAYS recognize those boob windows. at first it was really annoying because it is pretty sexist but honestly i've become very endeared. it's absolutely devastating that this movie killed them too. they were everything to me 💔

hey, sorry, side bar, were they watching geordi bathe through his visor? freaks.

also, geordi in the bondage gear while he was kidnapped. ALSO, wasn't he growing new eyes in the tng s7 finale? whatever happened with that???

stellar cartography looks better than it did in tng but it brought back memories of picard running around on poor beverly. idk what he's so worried about continuing his family line for wesley crusher IS his affair baby

hey, also, the lighting??? the "distant sunlight" atmosphere when the lights are off vs the brightly lit interior of the show? truly, the upgraded lighting was probably my favorite part of the movie. it looked SO fucking good. i really felt like we were on a spaceship.

no, wait, ACTUALLY my favorite part was data getting to say "oh, shit!" that was really good. they got one bad word for this whole movie and used it in the perfect place

no, my favorite part was the spock mention.

did not like kirk referring to picard repeatedly as the captain of the enterprise. kirk's the real captain here, bitch. picard doesn't have what it takes to die for his ship. he doesn't love his ship the way kirk loved his.

i did like the nexus reference to the tmp wife. in the novel she was named lori but she didn't show up in tmp proper much less get a name so i'm ok with them calling her the wrong name, but i just know it's the same woman. less okay with kirk's nexus dream being all about some random woman we've never met. he's in love with the IDEA of a woman to come home to, sure, but it's just lazy writing. we don't have any reason to care about this girl. at least if it had been carol ruth marcus or something we'd have SOME basis to give a shit on. the nexus was the perfect place for spock and bones! i wish they and uhura and sulu had had cameos...

i also liked him warning picard to NEVER retire/accept promotion, bc retiring wound up being so traumatizing for him. this is not really consistent but i'm making it that way in my mind palace.

also, kirk being a horse girl is FAKE. they just made him be into horses bc picard is into horses. gross. he was really good at chopping wood though lol

the scene with the kids evacuating the spaceship...WHY WOULD YOU HAVE CHILDREN ON THIS SHIP. i also worried about the pets the entire time, which is part of why i lost it when data found spot :(

it's sad that a piece of guinan was left behind in the nexus...does that happen to everyone? is a piece of kirk in there too? i really wanted to write a fix-it for this someday but they have given me so little to work with that it's hard to imagine a fixit that isn't just 80% "yeah we're ignoring that" which isn't very satisfying.

the crash was SO long. also, why was data holding troi? she's got 2 different boyfriends who could be doing that for her

since i was going into this knowing kirk died, i expected that he was gonna die because the nexus swallowed him or something. i was expecting something grand. instead it was like, tos scene, an hour and a half of very mid tng content, and then half an hour of rushed and poorly paced kirk and picard scenes. typical tng episode that it didn't get to the point until it was almost over, but jesus. i can't believe they got shatner for their movie and then barely had him in it. like, kirk at the end was a total surprise narratively (obviously everyone watching it knows bc of the opening at LEAST that he'll be back, but imagine if this guy had been some rando - it would have been so unsatisfying and weird).

see, this is the thing. the nexus actually has the potential to be incredibly compelling. the way picard's scenes were shot were very very good, if one could ignore the clothes from 1790 and the horrific portrait of himself looking like he stepped out of les mis and also how creepy his kids were and WHY WASN'T HIS WIFE BEVERLY I HATE HIM. kirk's were rushed and messy (he likes horses? his dog? none of this connects us to the character we knew in tos...), and picard's involved, well, picard. but the CONCEPT absolutely fucks, and i did love the creep factor in spite of it all. this whole movie had huge potential and instead it's a steaming pile of shit. i could have learned to live with a good kirk death but living with a bad one is gonna kill me. at least he had good last words. "oh, my" right before he dies kinda fucks tbh.

my final note is that i think sir patrick stewart got sunburnt filming some of those scenes near the end. there were a few shots where he looked quite pink. give the man some sunscreen. oh yeah also why did some people randomly wear the ds9 uniforms...what on earth

anyway, terrible movie, 0/10 stars, i'm never gonna recover. tng never disappoints in disappointing me.

NEXT TIME: back to ds9, thank god. we're doing "meridan" and "defiant."

[childrenofthenightt]

That’s The Way

Pairing: Jimmy Page x Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: none, this is kind of an introductory/fluff chapter if you will :)

Story summary: Y/N Y/L/N, an ordinary seventeen-year-old girl, gets pulled into the world of rock and roll on a fateful night at the Marquee Club in London when she experiences the musical phenomenon of the Five Live Yardbirds. She grows up fast, navigating her way through the downfall of The Yardbirds, the legendary skyrocket of Led Zeppelin, era-defining decadence instigated by the ‘60s and ‘70s mindset of free love and personal gratification, and finding the courage to express how she fell deeply in love with one of modern music’s greatest guitarists.

Author’s notes (from Molly of rebel-without-a-zeppelin): Hi everyone! A little disclaimer on my part: this is the first story I’ve ever shared for public consumption. I’ve been toying with this idea in my mind for a very long time now, and I’ve finally mustered up the courage to share it with you all. I hope you like it. I am incredibly honored to collaborate with Syd on this project; this is truly our baby, as it has a very long, detailed, intricate plot, so saddle up for lots (and lots) of drama! This is also a sloooowwwww burn, like really, really slow lol. Over the course of the story, please feel free to send me your theories and comments; I would absolutely love to read them. Please enjoy, and happy reading!

---------

3 May 1965

The sound of a car horn beeped incessantly from the front of Y/N’s house. Dropping her backpack down on her bedroom floor with an annoyed huff, she sprinted down the steps. She never did get enough time to prepare, and it was no different today. With her friend Carolyn in tow, Y/N made a beeline for the front door, the click-clack of her Oxford shoes pounding across the hardwood floor. Y/N’s mum, who nonchalantly strolled out of the laundry room with an armful of freshly washed and folded bath towels, leant against the doorframe.

“Now remember Y/N: no drinking, no drugs, no sex. No going home with strange musician guys, nor are you allowed to go to their hotel,” her mum instructed calmly, knowing she’d receive an eye roll from the girl. Her stern expression at home on her gracefully-aged face, the girls receive the speech they get every time they go out.  “You too, C. Even though I’m not your mother, I still worry about your safety.”

Both Y/N’s mum and dad had a very protective instinct over their eldest daughter, just like their other three children. Even at Y/N’s healthy age of seventeen, she longed for the freedom and trust that her older brother had gained at her age.

“Thank you, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Carolyn replied with a little laugh.

“Mum! This is literally the fourth time I’ve been to a Yardbirds gig, and nothing bad has happened,” Y/N huffed. Her mum raised her eyebrows.

Lillian, Y/N’s little sister, walked into the foyer and surprised Y/N with a big, tight hug around her waist. Y/N gasped at the sudden contact, but chuckled when she realized it was her younger sister, and reciprocated the hug.

“I don’t want you getting hurt, Y/N. Boys are icky. And stupid!” Lillian said in a whiny voice, her face muffled by being buried in Y/N’s stomach.

Y/N ruffled her sister’s muss of dirty blonde waves affectionately, rubbing her back to soothe her worries. “I promise, I will come back perfectly fine! I won’t let any boys mess with me, Lil,” Y/N said with a smile, “And when I come back, I’ll tell you everything that happened.”

Lillian gazed up at Y/N with a similar smile, her small teeth shining a bright, pearly white and her chin resting on the taller girl’s stomach. “Okay,” she said, content, before releasing from Y/N with a stuffed animal tucked under her arm.

“Where’s Charlie?” Y/N asked, hoping she could say goodbye to her younger brother before she left.

“I think he’s riding around the neighborhood on his bike with his friends,” Y/N’s mum replied with a shrug. Y/N felt a little disappointed, but she figured she’d talk to him tomorrow at breakfast about her night out.

Thomas, Y/N’s older brother, continued to honk the horn rather obnoxiously, growing quite impatient. It’s a wonder the neighbors weren’t at arms, knocking on their door. He was forced by his parents to be Y/N and Carolyn’s chauffeur to the Marquee Club in London.

“We have to go, or else Tommy will have my head,” Y/N said as she started to open the front door.

“Wait!” her mum said, sloppily placing the towels down on a nearby counter to dash to the door and give Y/N a hug and a kiss on the head goodbye. Finally pulling away her weathered hands flew to Y/N’s shoulders, and gripping them firmly, she continued, “Be good. Love you.”

“I know, I will. Love you too,” Y/N smiled, before dashing down the steps and to the passenger seat of the car. Carolyn was in quick pursuit, following her to the car and taking a seat in the back.

“It’s about time,” Tommy huffed impatiently, tapping his fingertips on the top of the steering wheel as he put the transmission into drive.

“Sorry. Mum was giving me and C a safety brief,” Y/N replied apologetically.

“Why are you two still in school uniforms?” he snorted, shifting to look over at the girls; their studious appearance of white oxford shirts, sweater vests, plaid kilts, white knee socks, and smart oxford shoes would be quite out of place among the audience at the show.

“No time to change, just like usual,” she replied, turning on the radio, soft melodies pouring out at a low volume.

The three drove in silence, except for the sound of the radio playing, until Carolyn had dozed off on the somewhat lengthy car ride. Occasional small talk between Y/N and her brother permeated the quiet that fell over the group, but it picked up when they were only a few blocks away from the venue.

“You gotta stay safe in there, Y/N,” Tommy said, looking straight ahead. His teeth clamped down sharply on his bottom lip: a dead giveaway to the nerves he must have been feeling.

“I know, Dad,” Y/N joked, punching him lightly across the shoulder. Her bright smile wavered and fell when she saw his grim expression.

“I’m serious, you know. I don’t want my sister being pestered by some wankers in a blues band.”

Y/N smirked at her brother’s sudden defensive behavior. “I can take care of myself. Trust me. This isn’t my first rodeo. You should’ve seen the first Yardbirds gig we went to. Utter chaos...” The tilt of her lips signalled that she was joking, and Tommy huffed out a laugh.

Carolyn, stretching with a grunt, had miraculously woken up just as Tommy pulled up to the front door of the Marquee. Glancing at the venue with awe dancing in their eyes, Y/N and Carolyn disembarked from the car, walking closer with the façade of calmness and competency.

“I’ll be back later to pick you girls up. Have fun, but not too much fun,” Tommy rolled his window down as he said this, winking playfully.

Y/N waved to her brother as Carolyn thanked him graciously for the ride. Arms linked, Y/N and Carolyn entered the famous Marquee. Nervousness and anticipation began to pool Y/N’s stomach as she was greeted by the decadent atmosphere of the club: the smell of smoke, alcohol, and sweat hung in the air as her eyes were flashed by many people mingling about, dressed in typical mod clothing. Y/N and her friend looked at each other, feeling like aliens in their intelligent dress. They tactfully made their way through the crowd as they found their way to their usual spot, a small leather-upholstered booth set against the wall near the stage.

“Today might be the day, Y/N,” Carolyn said as they settled into their seats.

“I don’t know,” she replied, smoothing out her skirt, “the idea of that is both scary and exciting to me at the same time. We’ll just roll with the punches, I guess.”

“Which Yardbird do you have your eye on?”

Y/N smirked as she thought for a moment. “Hmm...I’m not sure. I guess they’re all pretty cute in their own way. What about you?”

“Yes, I agree. But I must admit, I do have a very soft spot for Chris Dreja.”

“I’ll pray for ya, C,” Y/N chuckled.

~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, backstage, five live Yardbirds were performing some pre-show rituals in the hopes of easing the preliminary anxiousness. Jeff, Keith, and Jim were peeking out the little sliver of curtain that allowed them to see their gathering audience.

“Look! It’s those two schoolgirls again!” Jeff pointed to the two teenage girls in school uniforms, chatting in their booth waiting for the show to begin. They were huddled together in conversation, legs daintily crossed as their faint giggles floated over to them. Jim couldn’t help but smile at the sound, though he recovered quickly, not wanting his bandmates to get any ideas.

“What’s wrong with that? They must like us,” Keith replied.

“I think they’re both really pretty, especially the one with the Y/H/C hair,” Jim pointed out, trying to be as subtle as possible.

“Yeah, maybe we should invite them backstage after the show… have a nice little chat,” Jeff winked at the singer and the drummer cheekily.

After taking a final glance at the two conversing girls, the three returned to the backstage area where Paul and Chris were. Jeff immediately enlisted Giorgio, their manager, to complete the agreed-upon mission. Jeff loosely draped an arm around Giorgio’s shoulder before bestowing the request as politely as possible. Not trying to be suspiciously polite, of course, because everyone in the band and its entourage were firsthand witnesses of Jeff’s temper and stubbornness. Yikes.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to do me a favor,” Jeff said to Giorgio with a mischievous smile.

Giorgio rolled his eyes, knowing this “favor” would have to do with scouting girls from the audience. “What d’ya need, Jeff?” he sighed exhaustedly.

“Don’t complain, please,” Jeff deadpanned. “There are two pretty birds in the audience, wearing their school uniforms. They’ve been coming to our shows for a little bit now, and they seem nice—”

“You want me to bring them backstage after the show?” Giorgio interrupted, somehow telepathically knowing, by routine, what the guitarist’s request would be.

“You finish that sentence like you know what I’m about to say.”

“That’s because I do, Mr. Beck,” Giorgio retorted sarcastically, “this happens a lot more often than you think it does.”

“Whatever,” Jeff grumbled moodily, knowing he was right, before walking back to the group of musicians in preparation.

~~~~~~~~

Y/N and Carolyn continued to gossip happily about what was happening at school, not a care in the world. They felt the stares of older men in the club, who silently disapproved of their knee socks being scrunched by their ankles, because that wasn’t the “proper” thing to do. But they didn’t care. Who are they to judge?

Every teacher scolded girls at school who did the same thing, because they didn’t want their long legs to be “tempting” or “distracting” any boys. A bloody nuisance, is what it is.

The girls were snapped from their thoughts by the sound of a heavy guitar tone being blasted through the speakers in an opening riff. Their eyes were stapled, almost transfixed to the stage as they took in the five sharply-dressed men in front of them, singing their songs and playing their instruments.

As much as Carolyn enjoyed The Yardbirds and music in general, Y/N had a rather deep connection to it, odd enough as it was. She could play the piano fairly well, so she understood where these musicians were coming from cognitively and creatively. From what she’d read in magazines about current popular musicians, like The Yardbirds for example, she liked the same music they did. Y/N understood dynamics, tempo, tone, key, and musical notation, just like they did. Perhaps she’d be able to get into an intelligent musical conversation with at least one of them one day.

Two straight hours of hits, obscure songs, and blues covers from The Yardbirds’ catalogue were played for the Marquee Club patrons, hypnotizing its drunk and high onlookers with polished musicality and instrumentation.

As the final song concluded, both Y/N and Carolyn, unbeknownst to the other, felt a sinking feeling of disappointment that fell like a pit in their stomachs. They wouldn’t have the chance to meet the band. No one from the entity had approached them yet, and momentarily the five live Yardbirds would be exiting the stage for the night.

After they said their goodbyes and thanks to the crowd, they disappeared behind the curtain. The main lights of the club brightened to signal that the show was over, as the voices of all the patrons raised in rave of the spectacular show they had just witnessed.

Discouraged, but still in light spirits at what they had just seen, Y/N and Carolyn stood up from their seat and headed for the front door. Y/N expected her brother to be waiting in front; it was late, so might as well not make him wait longer than he needs to.

Y/N and Carolyn were merely a few feet from the door when Y/N felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Turning around to see a man with a dark beard already baring a jovial tight-lipped grin at her, the girl was quite surprised, maybe a little weirded out, but she reciprocated the gesture as genuinely as she could.

“Hello sir, what can we do for you?” Y/N greeted, discreetly nudging Carolyn to help her out and become a united front with her in front of this stranger.

“Good evening ladies, I was sent by Mr. Jeff Beck to offer you an invitation backstage to hang out with the band.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped and her face broke out into an obvious mad blush, much to her dismay. She was internally screaming. The Jeff Beck had spotted them in the crowd?! This had to be a dream.  Wait, this could be a complete drunken buffoon trying to trick them. Y/N remembered what her mother had said, and took the proper precautionary measure.

Y/N smiled in the most composed way she could. “Thank you for such a gracious invitation! Could I ask your name, if you don’t mind?”

“Giorgio Gomelsky, manager of The Yardbirds,” he replied, in a seemingly proud manner.

Okay, this was real. Y/N knew that Giorgio was definitely the manager’s name. She turned to Carolyn, who looked just as excited as she was.

“What are your names, dears?” Giorgio asked, pulling them out of their daze of what seemed like a fake reality.

“I’m Carolyn, and this is my friend Y/N,” Carolyn piped up, excited that she finally got an opportunity to speak to someone close to The Yardbirds.

She internally agreed to let Y/N handle the “diplomacy” part of the introduction, knowing that she was best at that. Carolyn knew her friend was quite shy, so she knew to step in when Y/N was starting to feel anxious. She noticed Y/N starting to fiddle with her fingers while talking to Giorgio in the most collected way she could muster; as excited as Y/N was, Carolyn knew she was growing very nervous.

“Well, it is certainly lovely to meet you both. So, what do you say? Would you like to meet the lads?”

After one final glance of excited mutual agreement, Carolyn replied, “Yes, we’d love to.”

Giorgio led the pair of girls back the way they came, through a sea of inebriated people, but this time through the backstage door. Y/N made an appoint to walk behind Carolyn, in an attempt to collect and relax herself. She was starting to sweat a little, her stomach doing flips and her hands becoming cold and clammy.

~~~~~~~~

“Our guests should be arriving any minute now,” Jeff said as he was placing his guitar back in its case.

Chris was standing and chatting with Paul in a corner when he turned around in surprise at the news. “Guests? What guests?”

“We had Giorgio invite two girls from the audience to come back here,” Jim replied, walking over to sit down in a metal folding chair.

“And why weren't we made aware of this?” Paul asked, as he walked to get another metal folding chair to place near Jim.

“It was their idea,” Keith replied, pointing two fingers between Jeff and Jim. Paul and Chris just nodded in recognition.

“I didn’t hear you disagree, Relf,” Jeff clapped back. He then told Chris and Keith to get some chairs for themselves and the two girls that would be walking through the door at any second.

Before Keith could respond, a couple knocks resounded in the room, signalling the arrival of the guests. Jacket lapels and ties were quickly straightened, even though each person was still glazed with quickly-drying sweat from the show they had just played, before the room fell unnaturally quiet as Giorgio opened the rather squeaky door.

The initial tension in the room that lasted a split second could be cut with a knife. Y/N felt her heart pounding in her chest, a cold sweat already running down her back, as five pairs of eyes landed on her, Carolyn, and Giorgio, warm smiles following suit.

She felt like internally combusting.

“Boys, this is Y/N,” Giorgio broke the momentary silence by introducing her, “and Carolyn.” Y/N smiled shyly and sent them a little wave, a dusty shade of pink seeping its way to her cheeks. Carolyn’s greeting was much more exuberant than Y/N’s, as she took the initiative to go over and shake all of their hands amiably. Y/N realized she had to follow her friend in order to make a good first impression.

Knowing that the boys wanted to spend time with the girls without being chaperoned, Giorgio left the room to attend to other business affairs.

Upon first glance, Y/N was the most beautiful girl that four of the five Yardbirds had ever seen. Perfect features, long legs, a calm, gentle, sweet demeanor… Just an absolutely angelic young woman; a vision.

Jeff had obviously recognized her beauty, from seeing her at multiple shows, but he thought she was way out of his league. He decided to focus on getting her to laugh and relax around them, because he noticed just how nervous she looked. She was turning pale right in front of his very eyes! Paul and Chris began to internally question themselves, how have I not seen this girl before? She is so gorgeous! Jim had been glancing at her sporadically throughout the show, soaking up her faraway presence. He noticed how her eyes glistened in childlike wonder as she watched them do what they did best: perform the Chicago blues.

“Well, it is very nice to meet you both,” Keith replied enthusiastically. “I’m Keith,” he alluded to himself, then pointing to the other members of the group while giving their names, “and this is Chris, Paul, Jeff, and Jim.”

“I mean, we know who you guys are, but it’s so lovely to finally meet you,” Carolyn replied. Y/N nodded in agreement.

“Come and sit down! Make yourselves comfortable. We don’t bite,” Jeff joked, motioning to the open chairs. The girls smiled and accepted his invitation, Y/N taking a seat between Jeff Beck and Jim McCarty, while Carolyn took a seat between Keith Relf and Chris Dreja. The chairs were arranged in a circular formation, so each person could talk to the other with ease.

“Tell us about yourselves!” Paul initiated, “I think Y/N should go first though, because you haven’t said too much yet,” he laughed at the last part. Y/N giggled (a little too idiotically for her own liking), but she felt herself become starstruck at how her name sounded coming from one of their voices.

Y/N clenched her cold, clammy hands in her lap as a method to ease her anxiety before starting with a smile. “Well, I’m from Saint Albans. This is our fourth time, I believe, coming to see a Yardbirds gig. Carolyn and I came to see you with Eric Clapton once, and then this is the third time with Jeff.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic! I guess I see where your favor lies in terms of guitarists,” Jeff responded playfully.

“I guess you’re right,” Y/N laughed, “I will admit that I love what you’ve done with the body of work. Clapton was a blues purist, which I respect, and he’s great, but I think your playing is much more interesting and unorthodox.”

Paul, Jim, and Jeff all raised their eyebrows at Y/N’s comment. They were impressed with how she understood their musicality.

“Are you a musician?” Jim asked Y/N.

“Not in your sense of the word,” Y/N chuckled, “But I’ve been playing the piano for most of my life, so I understand music. Probably more than your average female audience member,” she added with a grin.

“That’s so cool! Are you classically trained, or is it just a hobby?”

“Classically trained,” Y/N admitted to Jim shyly.

“Oh wow, so you’re the real deal,” Jeff added.

“I’m not a professional, so I’d say no,” Y/N laughed.

“You probably know more about music than all five of us combined!” Paul said.

“Well, I know that you know much more about the blues than me!” Y/N answered playfully.

“Okay, I’ll give you that,” Paul smiled at Y/N. She cursed herself in her mind for feeling weak at Paul’s simple sentiment, but tried to keep her composure as best she could.

The four of them, especially Jeff and Y/N, began to bond over their love for different musicians. Y/N expressed her love for Chet Atkins and his fingerpicking style, Scotty Moore’s lively soloing style, and Robert Johnson’s slide technique and open tunings, rendering the three men shocked at her knowledge on the subject. Y/N loved how easily Jeff could make her laugh, and how interested Paul and Jim were at whatever she had to say, significant or insignificant. Chris Dreja, who was in a little group with Keith and Carolyn, occasionally spaced out of his conversation to hear what Y/N had to say.

They bonded for about an hour and a half about everything and nothing, until Y/N abruptly realized that Tommy was probably waiting for a while outside for her and her friend. She apologized to the band profusely for such a sudden departure as she and Carolyn walked towards the door.

“Say you’ll come visit us again after the show?” Jeff called to Y/N as she turned towards him in the doorframe.

“Absolutely,” she smiled brightly.

---------

Thanks so much, hope you enjoy!!

Taglist: @y0uth--anasia @reincarnated70sbaby

[bjy-on-ao3]

Fic Friday: Steamy Springs

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

Okay, so, first off, happy birthday to this bastard who has lived in my head for...7 months now? Second, the timeline on this is reaching - We’re just gonna pretend they never caught him and fog isn’t an issue and this happens a bit before the anniversary of his arrival in Inaba (which seems to have been around early April?). But I wanted to do some stuff involving water/hot springs and such for this, so here we are.

I also don’t think the Amagi Inn had a co-ed bath, but let’s just pretend for the sake of this it does.

Summary Reader and Adachi take a trip to the Amagi Inn as a treat for his birthday, Adachi thinks that’s not enough of a present by itself.

Tags/Warnings Birthday Sex, Consensual Sex, Creampie, Established Relationship, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Underwater Blowjobs, Vaginal Sex, Water Sex

Steamy Springs (F! Reader/Tohru Adachi)

Convincing Adachi to agree to take a day or two off of work to relax and enjoy his birthday had been a simple task. The relief that had dawned on him when you mentioned the idea was no surprise. As long as you’d known him, Adachi had been fond of being lazy and taking the easy route - whether it was slacking off on shift or doing the minimum work possible. All his dodging actual work had given you ample time to get to know him, though, so you couldn’t complain. More surprising, however, had been how easy convincing the police department to give him that time off had been. Though with the big murder case you’d heard about from the previous year being closed, it made sense there would be less work to do down at the police station and more wiggle room in schedules. 

The thought of enjoying the inn’s hospitality and traditional charm was exciting, though you had been looking forward in particular to the hot springs melting away every ounce of tension and stress. Not to mention, you knew if Adachi had his way there would be more to look forward to, as well - something less soothing but nonetheless enjoyable. The biggest upside to Adachi seemed to be not having to deal with the petty complaints of the townsfolk or getting yelled at by his partner, even if it was only a couple days.

You had arrived in the late afternoon, Adachi promising over the phone to meet you shortly after. His lagging behind worked out perfectly for your plans, however. When you arrived, you had set about dropping off your things in your room and briefly admiring the decoration and tranquil atmosphere.  You left for a little while to tend to several other things you needed to arrange for Adachi’s birthday. Perhaps it was silly you were making so much more of a fuss over it than he was, but you couldn’t help yourself. Preparations were completed quickly, mercifully with little hassle, and you returned to the room smiling to yourself and looking forward to the next couple days.

Returning to the room, there was no sign yet of Adachi. He was running later than expected. Knowing Adachi, you half expected there was something last minute he had forgotten about and needed to take care before he could head to the Inn. Shrugging, you peeled off your clothes and began the process of cleaning up and getting ready to indulge in the springs. Leaving a note on a table beside the futon, you made your way to the springs, already grinning stupidly in anticipation.

A muggy, swirling cloak of steam greeted you when you stepped out into hot springs area, and you took a deep breath, your smile widening. Surveying the edge of the water, you spied someone else - someone you recognized. Adachi was reclining languidly against the edge, leaning back on his arms, back facing you. Obviously he hadn’t been as late as you thought. You didn’t recall seeing any text or missed called, nor any of his clothes discarded in the room or bathroom though. You must have been in more of a rush than you thought. 

But you didn’t let the fact Adachi had made it to the springs first deter you, stepping closer to the edge of the bath. You took a moment to admire how relaxed he looked, as if he hadn’t a care in the world “Why didn’t you tell me you were here already?,” you asked cheerily, not wanting to startle him - he hadn’t seemed to have noticed you approaching beforehand, you assumed the lulling effect of the water was to blame.

“Took you long enough,” he shot back, ignoring your question, twisting around halfway and looking over his shoulder. The steamy haze and the heat of the bath painted a rosy blush across his cheeks and you had to admit silently it looked cute on him..

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, waving a hand dismissively while clutching your towel to you with the other, unable to suppress your smile. 

“The way you’re holding that towel, you’d think I hadn’t already seen it all,” Adachi remarked cheekily as you knelt at the edge of the water, before climbing carefully in.

You rolled your eyes half-heartedly before leaning back against the lip, seated a few lengths away from Adachi to give him space to stretch out his long limbs and relax, and grant yourself the same. You closed your eyes, sighing contentedly as the warm water quickly took effect. 

“You don’t have to sit so far away, y’know.” you cracked an eye open and gave Adachi a sidelong glance as he spoke. “I don’t bite.”

Opening both eyes, you turned to face him, crossing your arms over one another on the edge of the bath. “Ha-ha,” you began dryly, “that’s a lie and we both know it.”

“Yeesh, fine, but you like it when I do,” Adachi retorted, tossing his hands up in feigned defensiveness, a crooked, smug grin overtaking his features.

You sighed again, more for dramatic effect than a sign of relaxation, before moving and re-situating yourself within arm’s length of the detective, eyeing him purposefully. “Better?” you asked.

A small, mischievous sparkle in his grey eyes was your only warning before Adachi made his move. He acted quickly, leaving you no chance to dart away, grabbing you firmly by your waist. “A-Adachi, hey! Wait!” You had time to shout as he lifted you up and over, pulling you back down, settling your ass on his lap and pressing your chest against to his.

“There. Now it’s better,” he stated, sounding smugly satisfied. “Don’t you think so?”

There had been ulterior motives behind Adachi’s attempts to convince you to sit closer to him; the real reason he sounded so pleased with himself. Wriggling against his hold at first swiftly made you aware that Adachi had foregone a towel altogether while relaxing in the bath. Your squirming ceased and your glance flitted down briefly toward the beginnings of an erection poking between your thighs. You worried your lip between your teeth, fighting the sudden, overwhelming wave of heat that bloomed in you; a heat that had little to do with the sultry temperature of the hot springs. You swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the sensation and composing yourself before Adachi noticed how successfully he had flustered you and with such little effort.

“You could have just asked, you know,” you mumbled irritably into his shoulder, but you relaxed against his body. Denying you enjoyed being pressed so close to him would have been a lie. Just sitting in his lap, feeling the growing hardness between your legs, it was impossible to overlook how readily your body responded..

“Aw, but then I’d miss that surprised face,” he teased.

His hands twisted, smoothing over your waist and hips until they cupped your ass, pulling you more firmly against him, grinding you over his stiffening cock, his length taunting brushing your lips and making you let out a pathetic little gasp. He leaned forward hungrily, lips molding to yours in a way that was demanding, but shockingly restrained. Ordinarily when Adachi kissed you, it felt more like he wanted to eat you alive, but there was a more relaxed air to it this time. You weren’t going to stop and interrogate him over the difference.

Content to sit in his lap, you let him ravage your mouth, dragging his tongue over your lips until you parted them for him and slipping it inside. Despite the kiss being more docile than you were used to - a part of you dared think of it as almost sensual - there was an urgency and dominance in how his tongue twisted with yours, massaging but fighting it back down whenever you tried to win the upper hand. His hands kneaded your backside absently as he stole your breath away, and you involuntarily leaned harder into him, rolling your hips lightly.

By the time he broke away and started to pepper your neck with nips and kisses, each sloppier by the second, he was fully hard and throbbing beneath you. A sudden twitch of his erection made you shudder, your pussy clenching reflexively on emptiness, and your hips bucked again. Adachi let out a small laugh against the hollow of your throat that vibrated through you. “I think,” he started and you could feel the timbre of his voice rumble against your skin, “this could be a lot more fun,” he finished suggestively, moving down to outline your collarbone with the tip of his tongue where your towel had slipped down.

“I don’t know, Adachi…” you trailed off, pursing your lips, realizing that perhaps an open spring wasn’t the best place to be getting too hot and heavy.

“What? Worried about getting caught?” he returned, his lip curling a little in a taunting expression.

You set your lips in a hard line, a deeper frown, more indignant than worried. “Yes, I am,” you admitted huffily, cursing how the breathiness of your voice ruined your annoyance.

“C’mon, sweetheart. No one’s gonna know.” he coaxed. When you still looked unconvinced, he tried a different approach. “We’re here for my birthday. You wanna give me a proper present, don’t you?”

“Yes, but-” you protested, ready to explain you had plenty of things prepared for him.

“Then you shouldn’t have to think about it,” Adachi pushed, silencing your argument.

You gave in after another moment of consideration. “Alright.”

“Better get started then.”

You moved, angling your hips until the head of his dick teased your slit and pushed forward. But Adachi stopped you with one hand on your hipbone, his other hand migrating to the top of your head. “Aah, not like that,” he said, his voice playfully scolding. He pushed you away, pressing down on your skull and glancing down at the steaming surface of the water and his lap to illustrate what he had in mind.

After another quick internal debate on whether you should indulge him so much, you edged back and took a deep breath. You sank beneath the water, closing your eyes and guiding yourself by touch, wrapping a hand around his cock and pumping it up and down a few times. You carefully eased the head into your mouth, doing your best to keep a tight seal, lest the spring water trickle in. You continued until you had completely wrapped your lips around his length, the tip brushing the back of your throat. 

From there you hollowed your cheeks and began to suck, rolling your tongue along the underside and wriggling it against where the head met his shaft when you pulled back up. You eagerly stroked whatever part of his length your mouth didn’t take, cupping and massaging his balls with the other hand. You ignored the burgeoning ache in your lungs for as long as you could before drawing back and taking a second to catch your breath. You glimpsed Adachi’s face briefly, even more flushed than before, his eyes rolling back. You heard him groan, “Ah man, I didn’t think that could get any better.” And then you were below the surface once more.

You repeated the process once more, sucking him off as best you could while considering the water surrounding you and taking a breath when you couldn’t last any longer. When took him into your mouth for a third time, Adachi’s hips were twitching against yours, and you felt more than heard the muffled groans breaking over the surface of the water above you. Your heart jumped in your chest as his hips bucked suddenly, your held breath threatening to escape. You scraped your nails on his thigh lightly in a warning he subsequently ignored, and his hips rolled up again.

You choked around him, water churning and some of your held breath bubbling out around you. You had no choice left but to resurface earlier than before to replace it and tell him off. His hand returned to the back of your hand though, pressing you down. Your heart skipped another beat, this time in panic. He thrust into your mouth again, rougher, and you dug the nails of both hands into his legs sharply and fought against the pressure on your skull.

All at once, the pressure vanished and instead Adachi was tugging you to the surface. You coughed a bit, panting and breathless, glaring at him disapprovingly. “Running out of breath already, baby? Thought you could last longer than that,” he mocked meanly, though his voice was strained and breathy.

“If you’d stop trying to fuck my face while I’m down there, I could,” you spat back irritably.

”Oh, so sorry, sweetheart.” ‘Yeah right’ you told yourself. “You just suck my dick so well I can’t control myself. You forgive me, right?” He stroked your cheek with the back of his hand, the gentle gesture not matching the tone of his voice.

You just frowned at him, continuing to glare and try to catch your breath. You shook off his hand, giving an annoyed huff and folding your arms over your chest, your towel having dropped beneath your bust.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” he cooed, coaxing you back into straddling him. You tried not to think about how turned on feeling him throbbing between your thighs made you. He reached forward, groping at your chest with his other hand greedily and sharply pinching one nipple, and the simmering heat in your belly your irritation hadn’t dispersed intensified. “I bet I know just how to get rid of that sour look,” he said, moving both hands to your hips.

Before you had time to say anything, he positioned you over his length and pulled you down, impaling you on his cock completely and making you gasp. “Aah, Adachi,” the sultry words rolled off your tongue without thinking, breaking your displeased facade instantly.

Forgetting quickly how upset you were with him, distracted by the satisfying, aching fullness between your legs and the devious, hungry look on his face, you ground against him feverishly. Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you raised your hips and pushed back down, letting your head roll back as he stretched you all over again.

Adachi took the opportunity as you withdrew again and sank down to bend forward, pressing his lips to your throat. His breath against your neck was cool compared to the spring water, even his lips seemed colder, and you shuddered. “Mm, keep moving just like that,” he urged, sighing when your heat enveloped him all over again. He leaned further into your neck, and between a slew of rough bites you heard him groan against your skin. “Fuck, I love it when I get to take it easy,” he purred, sounding thoroughly pleased and breathy.

Even running his mouth, Adachi was still far quieter than you. You rose back up and speared yourself on his cock again and again, sometimes stopping to grind yourself against him, hoping to add more friction to the scandalously blissful and lewd feeling of his cock spreading you open. Knowing in the back of your mind that you should be quiet, that you should try as little as possible to attract someone’s attention from beyond the spring, you couldn’t hold back. Coming back down, savoring each hot inch, combined with the touch of Adachi’s mouth, the friction, and the steaming spring water was ecstasy, near dizzying. Your mouth hung open, a chorus of moans drifting out into the thick, steam-choked air, obscene and growing louder by the thrust.

“Listen to you,” Adachi jeered, his lips whispering over your jaw up to your ear. His tongue snaked out and he bit down, and you gasped between cries. “I thought you were worried about getting caught. Doesn’t sound like it,” he continued, loving taunting you when you could hardly compose the will to keep your mouth shut, let alone try to refute his words. “Or were you just playing hard to get?” Adachi finished, a chuckle tickling your skin.

“F-fuck,” you sputtered incoherently for a moment, fighting off the moans and trying to gather your words. “I’m trying, I can’t, I-”

“Let me help you get that mouth under control, sweetheart,” he cut in, a smug glee seeping in among the husky undertones. 

His hand swept up, covering your mouth in a grip that was hardly gentle, but you didn’t care. Focusing back on the sweet ache between your legs and the coiling, overheated spring tightening in your belly, you stopped trying to be quiet. Even with his hand muffling them, your cries were loud and desperate, and among them you heard Adachi let out a shaky sound that belied the effect they had on him. When he spoke again, you could hear the strain creeping into his voice, a strain that grew more clear each time your hips met his.

“Fuck, you’re still making so much noise,” he observed, the fingers of his other hand digging almost painfully into your hip, flexing tighter and letting go in rhythm with your pace. “Maybe I should just let you scream; someone’s gonna hear at this rate, anyway.”

He pulled his hand away, and you were back to crying out unsuppressed into the heavy air again, nearly screaming, head dropping back again. His hand moved down, disappearing between your bodies and coming to play between your thighs, stroking your clit smoothly. Your pace faltered as you strove to press yourself into his touch, devolving more into grinding against him than riding him, your moans tapering off a bit, if only from the heavy, panting breaths spilling over your lips.

Displeased with your slowed pace, Adachi bucked his hips harshly up into yours, at the same time pushing you toward him with the hand on your hip. His fingers slowed until their pace was tortuous and you were whining plaintively. “Don’t get distracted now,” he warned you. “This is for me, isn’t? Are you gonna make me do the work?” He asked, his voice equal parts irritable, aroused, and smug.

“Ah, n-no. Fuck.” you quickly denied, shaking your head hazily. Biting down on your lip, you attempted to correct your pace, until you were riding him again, hard and fast, thrusting your hips even more eagerly against him as he resumed the motion of his fingers between your folds. It was a struggle not to fall back into only grinding against the delicious sensation of his fingers that further inflamed the molten tension in your abdomen.

He sighed and groaned again, all annoyance gone from his voice. “Good girl, that’s more like it.”

Despite his complaints of being made to ‘do the work’, Adachi couldn’t stop himself from matching your tempo the closer he drew to release. He could feel the familiar buildup and tightness of his own orgasm in his groin, and the way his thick, labored breathing mirrored yours. The promise of pleasure encouraged him to rock his hips to meet you as you sank down, and your moans pitched even louder, airy and clear and carnal, only adding to the urgency. His hand on your hip was a vice, holding the soft skin in a grip that was sure to bruise shades of purple and blue, and his fingers on your clit were became rushed and messy.

You reached your orgasm before Adachi, but only moved your hips more desperately against his, ignoring the oversensitivity trying to dissuade you. It was far too small a displeasure to stop you, to drown out the tingling waves of heat that surged outward from your core and made it hard to think. Even in dumbstruck pleasure, you moaned his name, as if it were the only word or thought that mattered.

“Mmph, this was supposed to be my present, but I think I’ve got something for you, sweetheart,” Adachi growled sleazily into your ear. The matching thrust of his hips against yours picked up, faster and harder until each rocked you with tiny aftershocks of pleasure as you dipped down from your climax. “You’ll be good… for me and… take it all, won’t you?” It was his turn to struggle for words, his speech interrupted by feral, bawdy noises.

“Yes, Adachi, yes, yes,” you moaned brokenly. The volume of your cries had lessened, but their number hadn’t, Adachi’s brutal pace still driving your own and dragging out the pleasure of your orgasm, even as it started to ebb away.

He mumbled some unintelligible, filthy praise, before stiffening against you, the hand on your hip urging you flush against him. He leaned in, biting sharply along your collarbone and the swell of your chest. When he finished inside you, you could feel the thick ropes of warmth fill you, and his panting breath puffed over your overheated skin. He held you still and tight against him for a bit, giving a few more shallow thrusts into your cunt, and eliciting soft, tired gasps from you. With a shaky breath, you collapsed forward, laying your head on Adachi’s while he rested on the soft curve of your chest. 

Eventually, you gathered enough of your strength and breath to pull away and lift yourself off Adachi’s softening cock. Instantly you were met with the lean strength of his arms, caging you in and preventing you from going far. “Where do you think you’re going?” He asked impishly, and even though he was still recovering, you could tell his appetite was hardly satisfied.

“Adachi… we can have more fun, just… can we get out of the baths at least?” You asked, hoping he would see reason. “I’m feeling lightheaded.” You weren’t sure if it was the heat or the sex or the combination, but you knew you wouldn’t survive another round with Adachi if the encroaching dizziness took you over.

He sighed dramatically, as if a change in location was a huge favor to ask of him “Fine, but you’re going to have to make it up to me.”

[mst3kproject]

The Ship of Monsters

Check me out, I’m being topical!  I had another review almost finished for today, but when I saw the news I knew I had to set that aside and find a movie about life on Venus.  This one is a ridiculous Mexican film starring Lorena Velazquez from Samson vs the Vampire Women (looking only slightly less like Cher) and one of those amazing cardboard robots you only get in the very worst of late 50’s and early 60’s sci-fi.

An atomic war on the planet Venus has killed off all the males, so an expedition is sent out in search of replacements, consisting of a native Venusian named Gamma, her Uranian navigator Beta, and their robot Tor.  After promising the Empress that they will bring back only the most manly of men, they wander the solar system a while collecting creatures with penises before an engine problem forces them to land on Earth.  The first human they meet there is Laureano Gomez, a singing cowboy with a well-earned reputation for telling tall tales.  One might assume one could predict the rest of the movie from there… but then Beta turns on Gamma and reveals that her true mission all along was to conquer a planet to feed the vampires of Uranus!

I gotta say… I did not see that coming.

The Ship of Monsters is supposed to be a comedy.  It’s seldom funny when it’s trying to be, although it mercifully avoids being the kind of desperately unfunny a lot of bad comedies are… possibly this is because it’s in Spanish, and by the time I’ve realized something is stupid there’s another subtitle to distract me. The jokes, such as they are, are pretty standard.  Tor the robot was created by an alien race, who were aware of Earth but never bothered exploring it because they thought the inhabitants weren’t very intelligent.  Laureano is in the habit of telling ridiculous stories to his drinking buddies, so of course when he claims the Earth is being invaded by space monsters they don’t believe him.  That sort of thing.  The movie is much funnier when it’s just showing us absurd situations, but to nobody’s surprise, The Ship of Monsters is at its funniest when it’s trying to be serious.

This hilarity comes in many forms, covering just about all the possible bases for a dirt-cheap 1960 sci-fi film.  We have spaceship sets made of cardboard, covered with buttons that don’t actually press and levers conveniently placed so people can bump into them during fight scenes.  We have Tor, with his tin can body that’s always a little dinged up but never in the same places, giving us clues as to what order the scenes might have been shot in.  He also has wiggly spring antennae and makes a little whirring noise every time he moves. We have space babes in silver bathing suits and glittery high heels.  Vampire-Beta, sporting plastic fangs that look like they came from the bottom of a cereal box, could be the female counterpart to the guy from Dracula vs Frankenstein, and the puppet used to represent her in flight is nearly as bad as the one from The Devil Bat.

The ‘monsters’ of the title are a bulging-brained Martian prince, a scaly cyclops, a spidery creature with venomous fangs, and the mobile skeleton of what appears to be a *damn worwelf (he tells us that his race has Evolved Beyond Flesh... apparently not Beyond Bones, though).  The costumes are all terrible, particularly the warwulf puppet, whose backbone extends into his mouth and who has to be carried around with his feet dangling in any shot that’s not a close-up.  It’s nice, though, that a little imagination went into them, and somebody gave a bit of thought to the idea that a monstrous appearance is relative.  The Martian tells Beta that he admires her ambition and might even marry her if she weren’t so ugly by his planet’s standards.

At the end, naturally, this alien invasion is defeated by Laureano, his twelve-year-old brother, and a cardboard robot, while Gamma just stands around and screams.  With a movie like this I expect nothing less.  The denouement contains my favourite intentional joke in the whole thing, in which Gamma stays on Earth with her True Love, and Tor the robot takes his, the Jukebox, back to Venus with him!  Tom Servo would have given a speech to congratulate the happy couple, and I can just see him breaking down into happy tears before he got five lines in.

(The wirwalf skeleton is not present at the climactic fight, by the way… no explanation is offered, and I strongly suspect that they broke the puppet trying.  I rather enjoy this omission, because it lets me imagine him getting lost or maybe buried by an enterprising dog, and finally finding his way back to the landing site only to learn that they’ve left without him.)

I called Laureano a cowboy but he only has one cow.  Her name is Lolobrijida and she is the very first time I have ever seen a movie spur a hero into action by killing his cow.  She gets a proper Teenagers from Outer Space death, with her skeleton left behind propped up by metal struts like a dinosaur in a museum!

I also called him a singing cowboy, which he is – there are several songs, including one in which he tries to explain to Gamma and Beta what ‘love’ means.  The songs have pleasant but forgettable Mexican pop melodies, and none of the lyrics make a whole lot of sense.  Being translated over-literally from Spanish probably didn’t do them any favours (my own Spanish tops out at yo no tengo dinero), but I still can’t imagine that the What Is Love song clarified anything.

Laureano himself comes across as kind of a fool, but he’s not actually a full-on idiot, which is quite important.  If he were the kind of one-dimensional ‘comedic nitwit’ embodied in characters like Dropo, or the janitor from Reptilicus, he’d be insufferable.  Laureano is no genius, but he’s got personality traits besides being stupid – he cares deeply for his little brother Chuy and for his animals, and he doesn’t treat Gamma and Beta’s appearance as two women for the price of one.  Very quickly he decides that Gamma is the one he loves, and he sticks to that, doing his best to let Beta down gently even when she offers to make him a king.  He’s also smart enough to trick Beta into dancing with him so he can steal the device she uses to control the rocket and Tor, and to listen to Gamma when she tells him about the various monsters’ weaknesses.

Gamma and Beta, on the other hand, don’t have a lot to them besides the basic fact that Gamma is the Nice One and Beta is Evil. Gamma starts out in the story with a strong sense of duty, and it’s a bit disappointing to see her abandon that because of Tru Luv.  I would have liked the ending better if she’d taken Laureano home with her so that the two of them could be the Adam and Eve of the new Venusian race.  Meanwhile, Beta shows no sign of any loyalty except to herself and her own ambition.  Her original mission, to secure Earth as a blood supply for the Uranians, falls by the wayside as she decides she’s going to conquer and rule the planet herself.

So The Ship of Monsters isn’t exactly a feminist manifesto, but neither is it complete misogynistic garbage like Project Moon Base.  The whole premise, after all, rests on a planet of women being able to develop space travel all on their own!  This is a fairly surprising plot point, because in many ‘planet of women’ movies like Fire Maidens of Outer Space or Cat Women of the Moon, the ladies need the virile Earth Men to come to them.

There’s also a little bit of actual science peeking out of the cracks.  The moment for launch of the rocket from Venus is determined by when ‘the elliptical orbits coincide’.  Launch timing is, indeed, a delicate art depending very much on what’s orbiting where. There’s also the moment when, trying to land on Earth, Gamma and Beta worry that the friction, combined with our oxygen-rich atmosphere, will set their ship on fire.  This stuff is pretty impressive coming from a time when the moon landing was still nearly a decade away.  There are even a couple of scenes in zero gravity that honestly aren’t totally terrible.  I mean, I’ve seen better, but I’ve also seen much, much worse.

There’s also one weirdly prescient moment when Laureano, telling one of his silly stories in the pub, describes being surrounded by dinosaurs – only to get a laugh a moment later when he mentions that they had beautiful plumage.  I’m not sure whether this is meant to be a joke in that Laureano is exaggerating an actual encounter with an angry bird into something more fearsome (I think we’re to assume that the whole story is totally made up), or whether it’s just supposed to be funny that Laureano thinks dinosaurs had feathers instead of scales.  Either way, it’s the equivalent of the moon Fornax in Menace from Outer Space being so reminiscent of Io.  There’s no way the writers could have known that, but it’s interesting nonetheless.

The Ship of Monsters is very cheap and very dumb, but it’s good fun for those of us who like crummy old alien invasion movies, and I recommend it to anybody in that demographic.  As for actual life on Venus… I feel like a lot of the people getting excited are too young to remember when Bill Clinton told the world that we had totally found life on Mars.  Humans have been discovering life on other planets for about two hundred years and every single one of those ‘discoveries’ has turned out to be either a mistake or an outright lie.  We have plenty enough to panic about this year without a Venusian invasion.

[whirlybirbs]

✶ ┈ PART TWO !

summary: loki meets the grandmaster and you intervene. the agreement (it’s really not an agreement, okay, more of a cause of circumstance) of parading as a married couple happens and neither of you are very excited about it. pairing: fake!wife reader x loki, set in ragnarok. a/n: hehehe here’s another 1.7k of these two. READ PART ONE HERE.

The third time you meet Loki, he’s strapped to that contraption the Grandmaster uses to intimidate the new fighters.

You’ve had a long week.

You’d woken up in a trash heap, bruised and sore and somehow alive. You’d decided, wholeheartedly, not to think too much about it -- not that you had an option. After stumbling over an entire mountain of inter-galactic trash being deposited by the varying collapsing stars around the planets atmosphere, you were quickly descended upon by a terrifyingly pretty woman with a tight braid and white symbols painted down her cheeks.

She smelt like booze and swaggered like a practiced warrior.

You didn’t trust her.

“You a fighter?” she’d called out, tilting her head.

“Where am I?” you’d asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Sakaar,” she chirped, “Now, are you a fighter? Yes or no?”

The moment that followed was tense -- a bit like a standoff.

“... Depends.”

“Hm.”

She’d caught you in the neck with a tracker then, a smirk on her face the whole way. In one swift move, she’d thumbed open the control device in her hand and sent you convulsing to the ground.

“The Grandmaster likes the pretty, clever ones.”

Her condescending smirk was the last thing you saw before you blacked out.

You woke up in the same chair Loki’s strapped to currently, bleary eyed and confused -- that man, The Grandmaster as he called himself, had decided rather quickly that he liked you. Perhaps it was your sudden decision to praise him and his choice of make-up.

(That was a great way to make friends in the bathrooms of bars -- surely compliments are universal.)

“Who are you, then?” he asks with a slow smile.

“I’m a Doctor,” you say slowly, “I study astrophysics.”

The smile drops immediately.

“Boring.”

He’s about to wave his hands, then, send you off to some horrible fate, you’re sure.

“A-And I tell stories!”

(That wasn’t really a lie -- you had a minor in classics. If you recited the plot to Hamlet to any of the colorful people in this penthouse suite, you’re sure none of them would realize it. Perhaps being entertainment would be worth keeping you around until you figured out how the fuck to get back home.)

“Stories, huh?”

So, here you are now, swathed in Sakaarian socialites, faux-smiles plastered to your face as you giggle into your neon colored drink. Your gown is something deemed fashionable for this planet, all colorblocked and tight with high slits and low dips. Along your cheeks is the same stark white branding as the brazenly mean warrior-lady you’d first met on Trash Mountain. You realize, half-way through the application by one of the Grandmaster’s maids, that it’s a mark of ownership. It’s rather disgusting, the whole fact you’re someone’s property now -- but, you suppose that it’s keeping you alive and in this current state? 

You really can’t complain.

Until you see Loki.

You choke on your drink.

You stand swiftly, leaving your martini and the gaggle of others behind as you move quickly upon the center of the room. The Grandmaster reels for a moment at the obstruction amidst his usual induction -- and your jaw drops.

“You.”

Quickly, the look of surprise morphs into one of anger and Loki’s eyes widen. You feel like you’re suddenly had all the words you’d thought about screaming in his face these last seven days pulled from your brain and all you can do is snarl and shriek:

“... You!”

Your finger jabs his chest, prodding at the green and gold armor there with such ferocity it’s no wonder you’re not stabbing him. For the first time, Loki gets a good look at you -- it’s clear you’ve somehow managed to worm your way into this “Grandmaster”’s circle; it’s commendable. For a Midgardian.

The Silvertongue, with every passing moment, is beginning to see his opportunity to do the same slip away.

“What? What’s the matter?” the Grandmaster coos, circling Loki to place his arms around your frame. You stiffen. Loki watches you swallow your anger. If he wasn’t strapped to a chair, maybe he’d find your discomfort amusing. However, Loki can’t help but avert his gaze.

Your anger is well deserved, really. He did throw you out of the Bifrost.

“... Oh, I see what’s going on here.”

Both you and Loki blink at the Grandmaster.

“... I’m sorry?”

“Star-crossed lovers.”

Your face twists into disgust as Loki blinks between the two of you -- confusion splits his features into an attempt of a charismatic laugh.

“Good sir, I believe you’re mistaken --”

“No,” he raises a finger, “I’ve seen this before. And you told me of your crash landing, my pretty little pet -- you said you lost your friends on the way. Lost a love… Raven haired and pale...”

You’d been entertaining the party with a poorly remember retelling of Romeo and Juliet to the Grandmaster’s court, but okay. It’s pretty clear the Grandmaster is making his over revisions as well.

Loki’s brow quirks.

There’s a moment pause. Then, the Grandmaster stops his blinking between the both of you and claps his hands. “But, if not -- I’ll have him executed. Your reaction was warrant enough. Can’t have my best storyteller off her game, can I?”

The maniac’s ability to bounce between party and murder is astounding.

Loki’s eyes are wide. His look is pleading.

You, in that moment, are put in the biggest moral dilemma of your life.

You can, of course, turn the other cheek -- but that means cozying up to the global terrorist who unceremoniously threw you out of the Bifrost to try and save himself from his own sister. On the other hand, you’d be letting Thor’s brother die all while losing your potential way off this planet. But, there’s no guarantee the trickster will help you. However, if there’s anything you remember from that one mythology class in college, it’s that gods tend to honor their debts.

Saving his life is a debt owed, right?

(And honestly? Letting Thor down and never seeing your parents again sounds pretty horrible.)

“It’s just… I thought you were dead.”

Loki, in that moment, is nearly impressed by your acting.

“I was worried sick,” you continue, clearly gritting out the last bit, “I… I was sure I lost you.”

“Fear not,” Loki’s mood swings then into one of pure amusement, smirk brandishing his features, “I apologize for scaring you, my sweet.”

“You know,” the Grandmaster’s face is twisted into a grin, “I have this six sense -- I can just… smell love in the air, or something. I knew it, I mean… Look at you two. God, it’s… adorable. Really. So, what is this, huh? Just a… a fling? Or --”

“We’re married.”

Where the fuck did that come from?

Loki’s got the same look on his face.

“She’s the crowned Princess of Asgard,” Loki says then, slowly. His eyes are glued on the way you shrink away from the Grandmaster’s gaze, “My wife.”

“Ass-gard, huh? Wow.”

He hums.

Loki is suddenly realizing there’s a reason to why you’re doing this. You’d made it apparent in the Sanctum that you weren’t intimidated by the likes of him. Somehow, though, this Grandmaster figure has earned your evident anxieties.

(Maybe it was because you’d watched him roast a guy who made a poorly timed joke about the color blue on your second day here. The smell was awful. But, it’s not like you can tell Loki that -- you just have to hope that somehow this little improv plan works and you and Loki can somehow get the hell off this floating landfill.)

“And… what’s his gig, huh, my pretty?” he’s addressing you now, lips upturned in an expectant smile, “Besides… well.. good bone structure.”

“He’s a Silvertongue, Grandmaster,” you explain slowly, hands clasped in front of you, “In more ways than one.”

Loki suddenly feels a bit like a piece of meat.

You relish in his discomfort as the Grandmaster bursts into an excited bought of laughter.

“Oh, see! This is why I love you! You’re so clever,” he chirps, waving his hands, “Your wife, Mr. Low-key, is lovely.”

“Isn’t she?” he grits.

The Grandmaster is unphased. “Quite! Now, this is good, this is very good -- I mean, it’s evident your… sexual tension is there. I can’t see why you two would lie to me, y’know? That would just be… uh… a bad idea.”

Behind him, Topaz clacks the Grandmaster’s staff on the red and white floor. You swallow thickly.

“I could never lie about my love for him, Grandmaster,” you supply, a delicate hand moving to touch Loki’s cheek. His skin is cold, “It’s simply not in my nature.”

“Nor I,” Loki says sweetly, “We make a better pair than separate, good sir, I promise you that.”

The man claps with glee.

“I love this, two lost loves reunited,” he nearly cries, “Topaz, get these two their own room, will you?”

It works.

Somehow it works.

The penthouse apartment they set you and Loki up in is big -- it’s better than the slave quarters you’ve been sleeping in for the last week. The far wall is ceiling to floor windows. Outside, Sakaar flies by; it’s the first time you’re actually getting a good look at the planetside. It’s bustling and the sun is setting between two twin moons, bathing the capital city in pinks and oranges.

“You are idiotic, bug, to propose this little plan -- had you wanted to sleep with me, you only needed to say so; lest I would.”

You recoil in a snarl. Loki is staring at the room in disdain.

“I just saved your life.”

“That colorful maniac had neither the strength nor gall --”

“Oh?” you chirp, hands flying to your hips, “Really? Sorry -- when did you get here? Ten minutes ago? Yeah, nice, cool, I’ve been here for a week and I’ve seen him toast like, five people for fun. The smell is awful.”

Loki’s mouth snaps shut.

Who in the Nine Realms are you?

“Besides,” you snarl, “I’m not doing this for you -- I’m doing this to get home.”

“And who, pray tell, said I would help you, bug?”

You, then, engage in this game of chess again -- your movements are slow and calculated and predatory and Loki has to admire your ability to dish it out. Your fingers jabs his chest once, then again.

“I did,” you seethe, “When I made sure you didn’t get easy-bake-oven’d, asshole. You owe me.”

He opens his mouth, keen on biting into your argument, when there’s a knock at the door.

“Dinner is being served, Lord and Lady Loki!”

You both save it for another time and exit the apartment holding hands.

The third time you meet Loki, you’re married.

[dat-town]

GIRL WHAT THE HELL!!!!!! YOU KILLED ME HERE OK? I HOPE YOU ARE READY TO PAY COS MY FUNERAL WILL COST YOU MUCH MONEY DARLING. AND I ALSO WANT YOUR FIC PRINTED ON MY GRAVE PLS. No seriously Kat wtf I loved it so much???? Damn girl I don't even know what to say beside thank you? thank you sososo much love you made me a happy girl today ;^; I freaking loved every second of it, the characters (JIMIN HOLY CRAP HE WAS SO PERFECT) and the plot and the atmosphere and dialogues... EVERYTHING OK and yes -1

I’m yelling but that’s cos of how shocked I still am bout the awesomeness of your story *sobs and cries* that was the perfect gift and I can’t believe you really wrote that for me T^T really, thank you from the bottom of my heart, I love you to the moon and back and I wanna shower you in kisses and sparkling hearts until the only thing you can feel is the undying warmth of our friendship

Connie dear, awww gosh you make me blush! I just read your tags and I’m melting. I wanna print it out and put on my wall. I still can’t believe you liked it sooo much. I was worrying about it being too boring or the buildin up to slow because this genre is your speciality out of the two of us and I wanted it to be perfect which I know it can’t be but the fact alone that you think so makes it worth everything.

Yes. I am willing to pay for your virtual death and take full responsibility but I sure as hell hope you still have many lives!! And even thought it’s your birthday I feel so loved by your enthusiastic response! It’s pretty common for me to gift stories for my friend’s bdays because it’s something personal but also special a bit so I knew I wanted to write something for you. That it happened to be a kinda creepy fairy Jimin au is coincidence or fate because inspiration came at the best time.

Anyways yes I do feel your love and I bath in it and it makes me so happy that I could contribute to your bday this way. The day is still not over so once again, happy birthday. Welcome to the club of 22s. I LOVE YOU! ♥ *hugs you back* 

(Fun fact: in the end I didn’t include the scene I mentioned yesterday. It would have been a Jeon cameo and I was like: nah, let’s not torture her on her own bday.)

[cedarmoons]

Director's Cut Meme: that scene in beloved where Solas totally draws her like a French (Orlesian???) Girl

AAAHH!! was hoping someone would pick this scene, even if you didn’t specify some 500 words. ;) 

SO. “French Girls” (as I so lovingly nicknamed that scene) was the #1 reason I wanted to write this fic. I was inspired by the knowledge that a Dalish clan is supposed to kill their Keeper if the Keeper becomes possessed (the doc name is still “Keeper Hunt”, even though that plot point didn’t end up happening) - but the image of Solas drawing Ariala’s naked back is what made beloved a 52,000+ smol book, rather than a 500-word drabble that would forever be confined to my “DRABBLES” doc.

I knew beloved was going to be a fic, while ultimately focused on Ariala, that would also include Solavellan reconciliation of some kind. But how? What would start them on that path to reconciliation? Solas is stubborn, Ariala doesn’t like to talk about her problems, it’s a giant recipe for disaster. How would I get the kids to Behave™?

The answer… was French Girls.

With that said, let’s get started! Also, listen to this on repeat, because that’s what I did while writing it. I will try to do it justice, since it’s my favorite scene in the entire fic. This is a long ass post, even though I decided to just do the first half of french girls. :)

“You’re awake,” he says, blinking again before sitting up. “You’ve been resting the whole day.” His brow furrows, mouth opening, then closing. “How are you feeling?”

Ariala wraps the blanket tighter around herself. “Fine,” she lies.

So when Solas says “You’ve been resting all day,” he means “I’ve been coming in to check on you since the vigil and you have literally been asleep all day, I’m worried about you.” Deshanna’s death is a really low point for Ariala, to the extent that it actually triggers depression. I’m modeling her depression on my own - i.e., she’s not sad so much as uninterested or uncaring about basic life things, such as getting out of bed or bathing, she becomes emotionally disconnected from things (the scientific term is “she’s empty inside”) and she sleeps a heckin’ lot.

I’ve been hinting at her depression for a while, both in chapter three and the other chapters, but it hasn’t kept her from fulfilling basic tasks like this bout will. The most explicit reference is after she’s bathed in chapter three, when she says:

The cold water is bracing against her skin, enough to drive the tiredness from her eyes, but not enough to expunge the heaviness from her limbs. When she moves, she feels as if she is wearing plate armor, not a simple tunic and leathers.

All she wants to do is sleep.

Solas knows that she’s depressed, he knows she’s the opposite of fine, but he has no idea how to help or try to stop it. And it turns out, neither will anyone else at Skyhold except two people, which will be covered in chapter 4 when I post it in ten a few years. Fun stuff!

His expression falls, as if he can sense her lie, but he swallows and nods anyway.

Ariala’s a bad liar, lol, but Solas doesn’t have the heart to try and push the issue. I mean, he just held the love of his life while she wept for her grandmother, he knows she’s not fine, but some part of him is thinking “it’s not my place.” So, he can’t really do anything but observe, and help when/if she asks. 

Basically, this is him internally:

He wants to reach for her, he wants to comfort her, but ultimately he holds himself back, and keeps himself distant.

He glances down at the bed he sits on, pushing back a corner of a skewed blanket, revealing his sketchbook and a leather drawing kit. When he opens the kit’s flap, several sharpened sticks of charcoal glint in the light. A muscle twinges in Solas’s jaw as he looks up. “I am ready to draw the vallaslin when you are,” he tells her.

She exhales. “Thank you,” she says. He nods, but his gaze slides away, over the warm red tones of the aravel interior. Ariala shifts forward, moving until her legs dangle over the edge of the bed. Solas gets himself comfortable, opening his journal and setting out his tools. Ariala watches as he takes a small knife and begins to sharpen a stick of charcoal.

“What do you want to draw first?” she asks.

“Your preference,” he says, not looking at her.

He still really, truly hates the idea of drawing her vallaslin, because her intention is to give it to other clans so that they can copy the pattern, thus potentially allowing for more elves to be marked with vallaslin, which is the last thing he wants, no matter what he told her in Crestwood.

I think Solas understands why Ariala chose to keep the vallaslin; but I also think that as time goes on he still cannot help but wish she’d chosen to discard her vallaslin. He might’ve told her that she’s perfect exactly as she is, but he can’t let go of what they meant in Arlathan. That’s just how Solas is: he understands other people’s points, but his mind is rarely changed. He is very set in his ways, which is why Ariala gets so frustrated with him sometimes.

At some point, actually, I had him arguing with Deshanna about the Dalish (something he does not really do in the fic), and Ariala gets mad at him. Here’s the deleted scene, set during a vigil, after Deshanna discusses Ellowen, a member of the clan, and Sarah, her human love in Wycome:

“I am surprised a Dalish elf could bring themselves to love a human,” Solas says, his nose wrinkling slightly.

“Why?” Deshanna asks.

He is not expecting her question. “Ah. Well, it seems only natural for elves to desire other elves. And one would think the Dalish to be protective of that custom most of all, considering their poor history with humans.”

“Solas,” Ariala says, sharply.

“Why would we blame an innocent girl for the actions of people half a continent away and a hundred hundred years dead?” Deshanna asks, her tone just as caustic.

“Because of the shape of her ears, perhaps,” Solas replies, mouth twitching. “Your people certainly have no qualms doing the same thing to city elves. Tell me, Keeper, would you have been equally supportive if Sarah had been a flat-ear?”

“Solas!” she snaps.

Every time. Every single time she thinks they’d moved past this, he shows that he is still stuck in this stupid rut.

I decided ultimately to use Solas’s comment from the Blackwall romance, not the Sera romance, because I thought him picking a fight in the middle of their vigil would be a little jarring from the rest of the atmosphere. My beta agreed, and the scene was cut, replaced with the one we have now.

Solas is also, conveniently, using his disgruntlement at doing this as a way to distract himself from dwelling on the fact that his ex, who he is definitely 100% still in love with, needs like… a thousand hugs, some blankets, and hot chocolate.

And he TOTALLY WOULD give her all those things, if, you know, he hadn’t broken up with her like two weeks before her clan was murdered.

“Face, then,” she says, and he nods.

“Let down your hair, please,” he instructs, still not looking at her. She does, staring at him as she reaches up and undoes the leather tie that keeps her haphazard bun in place. She sighs in relief as her damp hair tumbles down her shoulders, running her hands through it to smooth back the baby hairs. She massages her scalp and the back of her skull, wincing at the protests of sore muscles. Once her hair is arranged how she likes, she sets her hands at her sides, fingers knotting in the blanket she’s wrapped around herself.

When he has readied his supplies, he looks up. After a moment, he frowns, and with a flick of his hand summons magelights, which instantly flock to her face. They are bright, but not harsh; the glow is just as soft and warm as candlelight. “Tilt your chin up,” he requests. “Toward the light.”

She does, lifting her head just a little as her eyes fall shut, until the backs of her eyelids are painted golden instead of orange. There is no sound for a moment, before Solas sighs, and the bed across from her rustles, and his fingers brush ever so gently under her chin. Ariala inhales, stiffening, and opens her eyes. Solas does nothing but lift her chin higher, until her neck is arched. He swallows, and his hand drags across her cheek, fingertips gently tucking a loose strand behind her ear. His touch lingers.

Ariala’s breath catches.

If this seems sad somehow to you, it’s because Whispers was doing that sad instrumental part near the end of the song, and it hurts me. Two lines from that song I thought were particularly resonant:

In whispers, in whispers, you saylet it go, let it go — home.

and

Oh, I have seen your beauty growWhere others fade, you shine in gold

Ariala, it should be noted, is literally surrounded by golden light, whether candlelight or magelight. I am really proud of my imagery writing (I try to describe everything so that it’s as cinematic as possible) and I think it really came through in this moment— the scene as a whole, not just Ariala being bathed in golden light.

Shout-out for cinematographic writing! 

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ 

So, they’ve both been circling around each other, having little intimate moments (think when Ariala wrapped Solas’s hands, and him carrying her out of the aravel after Deshanna passes), and this is where that all comes to a head. Solas has a perfect opportunity to touch her (in lifting her chin) but he just can’t help himself from doing more — brushing her hair back behind her ear. It’s a very intimate gesture, which he knows damn well, but he can’t! help! it!

Solas: ok, this is a favor for her, I am a professional. The lighting isn’t good enough to get the details, so, ask her to lift her chin. Excellent, okay, now I can get back to business —

Solas to Solas: caress her cheek like you did when you were together and then tell her she’s perfect

They stare at each other in silence for several moments before Solas drops his hand. “Perfect,” he whispers. Her chest tightens. “Hold there, please.”

this was the moment of where I just

and then stay like that writing the entire rest of the chapter. i’m not joking, my own writing was killing me. fun fact: this was originally supposed to take place in a tent, but I like the aravel setting much better.

“Okay,” she murmurs, almost too softly to be heard. But Solas returns to his position across from her, and after forcing herself to relax, Ariala takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.

She does not know how long they stay, but at some point it begins to rain. She listens to the patter of it against the window, against the roof, and all the while the scratch of Solas’s strokes fill the silence of the aravel.

“How did you become an artist?” she asks. “Josephine told me an art scholar said it was an ancient style of the elves, dating back to Arlathan.”

Solas’s pause is only a moment long, but it is long enough. “The scholar was correct,” he says. “It was an art style of ancient Arlathan, one that took centuries to master. A spirit of Creativity taught me, and I practiced the technique when I could. My work is nothing compared to the masters of the craft.”

Now that she knows the truth, a dozen different questions come to mind, each one doing their part to undermine his excuse. If the art took centuries to master, how could he—supposedly mortal—be so good at it? How had he found a spirit of Creativity, rather than a spirit of Vanity or Pride?

How could she have ever missed the holes in his story?  

She opens her eyes and watches him, very carefully. “You use the Fade as an excuse for everything,” she says. He goes very still, staring down at the drawing, fingers tightening on the charcoal stick. Ariala watches him in silence before she says, gently, “Whatever it is, Solas, I want you to know that you can tell me.”

Solas:

Does she know? Does she know?? Her grandmother was acting weird a few days ago, maybe she figured something out and told her, but, no, she doesn’t know, because if she did know, she definitely would’ve tried to … I don’t know, kill me, maybe? I don’t know. I don’t know how she’d react but this is too cryptic and — okay, I think she doesn’t know. She shouldn’t know? But if she didn’t know, then she wouldn’t say that thing about the Fade, because that is a very specific and not incorrect accusation and if she did actually know —

Repeat for like… five minutes. He’s trying to figure out what she’s getting at, while also not giving away the fact that she got to him, which is why he just doesn’t say anything.

She doesn’t want to give away her suspicion just yet. Unlikely as it is, he might take her words for the genuine invitation they are.

Ariala hasn’t confronted Solas about being an ancient elf yet because she knows it’s his secret, so she’s waiting to see if he would trust her enough to reveal it on his own. It’s 100% a test. Is it what she should be doing? No. Is Solas going to come to her on his own? No. Does she know that? No, which is why she’s letting herself hope here.

Damn it, Solas.

She does not know how long she stays like that, listening to their quiet breaths and the sound of Solas sketching. But eventually, the stillness soothes the ragged parts of her, and her breaths deepen and slow.

“Done,” Solas says, much later. Ariala blinks herself awake, realizing she’d been half-asleep. She leans forward, and Solas turns the journal so she may see his work. Their fingers brush as she takes the journal from him.

The charcoal lines are thick, but careful, and graphite is substituted for the smaller lines. He’d drawn her with her eyes closed, and her hair isn’t crimped from the bun. Instead, her hair falls around her in loose waves, framing her face. The vallaslin is intricately drawn, branching across her forehead and down her temples, and he had drawn a larger replica of the pattern on the opposite page. Her nose is not so crooked, and her ears don’t stick out as much.

He’d drawn her to be beautiful.

Dove has a really beautiful video where an artist comes in and draws a variety of women; one drawing based on how the women describe themselves, and then one drawing based on how others describe those women. That video is what the third paragraph was inspired by. We all seem to be hyperaware of our own perceived flaws. Also, in that last line, @playwithdinos​ said “CONTROL YOUR THIRST, SOLAS.”

Other gems from dino:

“Let down your hair, please,” he instructs, still not looking at her. [I like how she’s not “isn’t it easier for you to see if it’s up” like come on Solas. COME ON.]

[…]

He swallows, and his hand drags across her cheek, fingertips gently tucking a loose strand behind her ear. His touch lingers. [Solas you are fooling no one.]

I am very lucky to have her. :)

Ariala lowers her hand, fingertips hovering over the page but not quite touching.

“Well?” Solas asks, just as quietly as he’d spoken before, but there is a note of—something in his voice. Uncertainty, maybe?

Ariala looks up and swallows hard. “It’s beautiful,” is all she says. His wariness softens, and he looks down at the floor, one of his hands crossing to clasp his opposite wrist. A muscle in his jaw twinges.

Remember, Solas has only shown her his journal once before, and she accidentally stumbled upon his everyday drawings of her. She reacted well last time, but he’s still nervous about showing her his art. and it’s adorable ;__;

So French Girls, as a whole, was an exercise in balance, above all things. I needed to balance Ariala’s emotional state after Deshanna’s death, Solas’s inner conflict about the woman he loves, the fragility of the dance between them, and how this moment would (or if it would) lead to an eventual reconciliation. I’m pretty proud of how I wrote the scene, and its aftermath, and I hope readers enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

Thanks for asking, anon!

[souzoushin]

[Translation] IDOLiSH7: Rabbit Chat [Tsunashi Ryuunosuke - Märchen Dream]  Part 3

Title: Märchen Dream

Participants: Tsumugi, Ryuunosuke

Source: Unlocked in game from the Tsunashi Ryuunosuke card released as part of the second Ichiban Kuji card set (September-October 2016), pictured here.

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*** [Previous: Part 2 - Frankenstein] *** [Next: Part 4 - How to Use Bath Towels]

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(Tsumugi)

Tsunashi-san, thank you for your hard work with the filming today. It was an honor to work with you!

(Ryuunosuke)

Thanks for working hard, Tsumugi-chan! I had so much more fun filming something in which we all acted together, rather than separated by each fairy tale!

The fairy tale characters got lost in a parallel world and were all struggling to return to their home worlds, while we of TRIGGER played the antagonists who tried to prevent that.

So in other words, the plot was that while everyone was trapped in the parallel world, the villains were trying to take over the original ones for themselves! It really was a wonderful story, so much so that I’d like to see it as a serialized drama on TV.

(Tsumugi)

You were trying to take over Little Red Riding Hood’s world, Tsunashi-san, while Gaku-san was after Cinderella’s world and Kujou-san after Snow White’s, and in the meantime Re:vale’s Momo-san and Yuki-san took a neutral stance and gave advice to both sides...

(Ryuunosuke)

I felt less like we were acting out roles too, and more like we were trying to become the characters themselves. I got so absorbed in everything, that the filming ended almost before I could process that it was over!

If you know the original fairy tale, it makes things quite surprising during the part where, after receiving advice from Momo-san the Cheshire Cat and Yuki-san the Hatter, Little Red Riding Hood Sougo-kun and Tamaki-kun the Wolf work together!

(Tsumugi)

Yes, since normally those two could never see eye to eye!

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>> 1. Was there a scene that particularly stood out to you?

>>

(Tsumugi)

Was there a scene that particularly stood out to you?

(Ryuunosuke)

I think, maybe the scene in which Tenn, as the evil witch, is trying to get Riku-kun to eat the poisoned apple, but Momo-san the Cheshire Cat tells him, “Beware of the poison,” and so he ends up not eating it after all?

It went differently from in the story and had me thinking how this was a parallel world after all! So I was really impressed.

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>> 2. Was there a scene you found particularly difficult?

>>

(Tsumugi)

Was there a scene you found particularly difficult?

(Ryuunosuke)

Probably the scene where I chain the iron weight on Tamaki-kun... That thing was pretty heavy.

Even if I already knew Little Red Riding Hood Sougo-kun was going to save him and he’d be alright, I still felt bad. My line also went like, “Even if you were to beg for your life, it’s all in vain, since you were fated to die a dog’s death to begin with,” and all...

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>> 3. Was there a scene you found particularly fun?

>>

(Tsumugi)

Was there a scene you found particularly fun?

(Ryuunosuke)

Maybe the scene where I was using the test tubes and flasks to try and create a drink of blood for Gaku! It was just some colored liquid made to resemble blood, but it looked like an actual experiment so I had fun!

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(Ryuunosuke)

Still, some of the roles we played are women’s roles to begin with so I was worried about how it would turn out at first, but I think the fans will enjoy the innovative scenario as well!

(Tsumugi)

I think so too! At the very least, I felt it was packed full of things that girls would enjoy. Fairy tales and idols and drama, all together...!

(Ryuunosuke)

The ending was left untold on purpose too, and the scene where Momo-san and Yuki-san say, “Only your heart knows how the story continues,” turned out really cool! It remained a mystery why they kept neutral, or whether they knew what the future would be. Honestly, I sure do wish it could turn into a TV series lol.

(Tsumugi)

It made me realize it’s precisely because of the way Re:vale is that the two of them were able to keep up the mysterious atmosphere so well, and I was impressed. How do you think it would end, Tsunashi-san?

(Ryuunosuke)

Let’s see... I’m a lover of happy ends through and through, so I’d like it if everyone’s worlds could just return to normal.

(Tsumugi)

I feel the same! I think I’ll ask everyone else for their opinion on this, as well. I’ll likely get a lot of different answers, so it will be interesting!

(Ryuunosuke)

Please do! And then be sure to share with me later.

Also when you get in touch with Gaku too, if at all, then please tell him, “The roses suited you very well,” or so! Lol.

(Tsumugi)

They really did look good on him, so I’ll be sure to tell him! However, why...?

(Ryuunosuke)

It’s just, I think he must’ve really liked the roses or something, because he took a picture with them. When Riku-kun told him, “Those really look good on you!” he seemed incredibly happy about it!

(Tsumugi)

Probably because of how easy it is to tell that Riku-san doesn’t lie or give flattery he doesn’t mean! I understand now...!

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Note: I don't currently own this card; the translation was done using screencaps provided by a friend.

[coleendalida]

Two Days and One Night in Anawangin Cove, Zambales

Being a young adult, I wanted to savour my life by exploring different wonders, having fun, and making new memories but unfortunately, I have a lot of responsibilities in life that I couldn’t easily leave for a sojourn.

Actually, it’s been half a year since the last time I took a break from the chaotic world of city life. I’ve been stress and shattered due to the plot twists I encountered lately. So, when me and my friend, Rhica had the chance to escape — we grabbed the opportunity to enjoy the ravishing paradise of Anawangin Cove, Zambales.

Everything, was unexpected! Supposedly, it was just an ordinary Monday for the both of us but when she mentioned me on a post of Bakasyonista, a travel agency — about affordable package deal for joiners, we hurriedly booked for it. We only have four days to plan but it was the most exciting part for us.

Our scheduled assembly is Saturday of 1:00 am at Mayflower Parking, Mandaluyong City. So, after our work (I came from Makati and Rhica is in Taguig) we went to SM Aura and Market Market to buy our personal needs and foods then by 12 am we proceed to our meeting place. At exactly, 1:30 am our transporting van started travelling going to Zambales.

As usual, we took a nap while on our way because we were really exhausted and we don’t have enough rest at all. We both feel anxious and excited to our day off because it’s really rare for us to travel together. And, before the sun rise, we arrived in San Antonio, Zambales Market.

From there, we we’re given a chance to eat breakfast, buy foods & drinks, and go to comfort room. It’s funny that we were remembered as a “BPI employee” of our companions because we were wearing our company jackets; and they were asking us about loans and plans. Ofcourse, we joked them to buy our products!

We stayed there for almost an hour before going to Pundaquit to have a boat ride. From market to Pundaquit is a 10-minute drive; and the boat ride from Pundaquit to Anawangin is 30 to 45 minutes. So overall, our travel from Manila to Anawangin Cove is six hours and yet everything is worth it!

As I stepped in the sand of Anawangin Cove, I was solace that finally — all my worries, stress, and work problems will vanish for a while. The place is invigorating because of its cozy atmosphere; and you will really appreciate the spot, the people around you, and yourself because there’s no signal there. The lifestyle and ambiance in the island was very different from the urban which I really adore the most.

We have a free cottage there plus tent. As usual, we don’t know how to build our camping tent, so one of the staff from Bakasyonista helped us. My concern everytime I travel is the comfort and shower room but I liked their public toilet because it is not gross at all! Before we start our fun, Rhica and I slept for a while to enliven ourselves. Then, after our nap, we changed our clothes into swimwear and went to the beach.

Ofcourse, I am really scared to be tan but thanks to Belo Whitening lotion with SPF30 for protecting my skin! But, we never stayed that much in the sea water because of the strong waves. And yes, if you know me that much, I have aquaphobia!

After we had our lunch, we decided to have a drink. Actually, all the goods that they’re selling in the island is double the price since it is really far from the city. So, I suggest that if you want to go in Anawangin, you should bring your own food and drinks, or you could buy in the nearest market in Pundaquit. But, in our situation, we already told our Tour Coordinator that we will order meals to them.

Some of the staff and guests invited us to their cottage and join them on their session. And yes, we accept the invitation because we believe that it would be fun to meet new acquaintances. We never regret joining their company since they were really nice and hospitable.

We found out that most of the employee there are professionals and has a different life every weekdays — some our police, registered pharmacist, student, and etc. They are just delighted on having a sideline in Bakasyonista because of the different company and experience they’ve shared every weekend. They also offer us to apply on their team and why not? I think it is a rousing idea!

We stopped our drink and splash in the sea around 4pm because it is the start of our trekking. Imagine, we climb in the mountain while we are intoxicated! It’s a new adventure for us and when we reach the top — we were awe on the view and I conquer my fear on heights!

After our tiring mount, we swim again and witness the aesthetic sunset in the beach. We slept early that day after our bath and dinner because we were worn out from all the activities that we have done.

The next morning is our last day in Anawangin Cove and before leaving the island we make sure to buy souvenirs and pasalubong for our family. Based on our itinerary, we will have a sight seeing and snorkelling in Capones Island but due to strong waves we are not allowed to wander the island but we could still swim.

Along the way, our boat suddenly stopped because there was a malfunction in the battery. I was really frightened that time because I don’t know how to swim and I am afraid to get drown even I was wearing a life jacket. But, thanks God! That he never let us to be in danger.

Our short escapade in Anawangin Cove is sidesplitting and modifying. It was our first time to join on a group travel with strangers but we enjoy their company and gain new friends; and ofcourse the stunning scenery and adventures we had in the island is the highlight of our short vacation. I’m sure we will definitely visit this paradise again!

Swimwear: Coco Cabana

Sunglass: Sunnies Studios

Photo Credits: Rhica Mae Rodriguez

For affordable packages, details, and reservation you can visit the following sites:

https://www.bakasyonista.com.ph/

https://www.facebook.com/bakasyonista.com.ph/