#i really am charmed by how much... nicer? this show is than the original. its refreshing

[bandtrees]

been picking through fop anw with pals and it is really really really good. makes me happy fairly oddparents has an actually good show. its got delightful animation (2d-style-3d my beloved! i love the texturing and the style and the general fun things done with art, with homages to the original 2d like everywhere) and so much love for the original show and overall heart and its great and i hope we get another season. peep it on netflix if its up your alley it deserves the love

i like this gay thing also ⬇

btw why are twitter people ukefying him he has a 9 to 5

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Mechakoopa

Debut: Super Mario World

So a very polite anon has humbly requested we write a post about Mechakoopa! They are apparently this person's favorite, so today's their lucky day! See I don't like to brag but, I'd definitely consider myself as part of the top 100 most qualified people to talk about Mechakoopas in the world! And who am I to turn down such a request?

Now the 90s you see, were a turning point for good Mr. Bowser here. With a brand new clown-helicopter thing to pilot around you might think he's all set, but what kind of self-respecting villain would he be without filling his evil lair with a number of Evil Wind-up Toys based on himself? So he does exactly that- a whole fourteen years before Mario stole his idea, mind you!

Yes, you read that right! Despite their name, Mechakoopas are tiny mechanical versions of Big Bowser himself, not just any run of the mill Koopa, which explains their green heads and funky hair! You know how Koopa is actually Bowser's Japanese name? Yeah! They could've localized them as Mecha-Bowsers, but Mechakoopa just flows nicer doesn't it? And he is still technically a Koopa!

"Yo, somebody rang?"

No!! Not you, Mecha-Bowser from Super Mario Sunshine (2002)!! You'll get your turn eventually! Geez! Anyway. Where was I. Oh! Yes!

This is the obligatory part of the post where I'm like “Get a load of this funky guy”! Get a load of this funky guy! Instead of reinterpreting Bowser’s design very literally in toy form, the Mechakoopa is very much its own beast, with its funny beak and little funny legs. Our aforementioned anon mentioned the wind-up key, and oh, what a wind-up key it is! And of course the raisin d’eclair- the fantastic little googly eyes! Oh where would we be without those googly eyes?

Naturally though, Bowser doesn’t just use his toys to populate his spooky castle- he always has to keep a few on his person! So he chucks them at you in the game’s final boss fight, but he didn’t account for the fact that, in this game only, Mario can throw upwards! Oh no! His one weakness! Being pelted with plastic!

By the by, I’ve always thought the original Mechakoopa sprite from Super Mario World looked super funky! The hair almost looks like its on fire! And I like the goofy grin. 

The Super Mario World cartoon decided to interpret this sprite by turning him into a horrible little man. No, I don’t want this! He shouldn’t have arms!

The Mechakoopa’s next appearance in a mainline Mario platformer was in New Super Mario Bros. Wii, where they act... exactly the same as they do in Super Mario World! Cool! This basically established them as modern Mario enemies, but there isn’t much to say other than that!

Like all our posts about Common Mario Enemies, it would probably be boring if I just listed off their every appearance, so I will just bring up the ones that are worth mentioning. For example, Super Mario RPG! In this game, Bowser’s strongest special attack is Bowser Crush, which summons a giant Mechakoopa to stop on foes! According to the Player’s Guide, this Mechakoopa was a top secret weapon developed by Koopa researchers... to stomp flowers and scare butterflies! Wow! That is so so evil! These big guys would definitely live up to the name “Mecha-Bowser”! 

“Hey guys, are you talking about me?”

NO, we are NOT talking about you, Mecha Bowser (with no hyphen) from Mario Kart: Double Dash (2003)’s Bowser’s Castle course! Get the heck outta here! Gosh, some people just don’t know when they’re not wanted!

I am sure after all this you are wondering, they may be mechanical toys but can they do math? The answer is yes obviously! This is Mechakoopa from Mario Party Advance, and they’re a mathematician! They invented Mechakoopa’s Theorem, the very real mathematical theorem that we all used in school! Everyone give them a round of applause!

I’d like to bring up their appearances in the Mario & Luigi games, not because it’s particularly notable, but because of how much I like their sprite and idle animation! Look at the wind-up key spin around and the eyes go up and down! So cute! Oh, and also because in the Superstar Saga remake they replaced the Mecha-Chomp enemies (may god rest their souls)!

Super Mario Maker 2′s final update was an epic win and a #1 victory royale for Mechakoopa fans anywhere, since it not only added Mechakoopas to all four main game themes, but also two brand new variants: the Blasta Mechakoopa (in red) and the Zappa Mechakoopa (in blue)! 

As you might expect, they can Blast (missiles) and Zap (lasers) respectively! I’ve no idea why they added these random functionalities to Mechakoopas specifically, but they’re a lot of fun and some of the most unique projectiles in the game! Zappa? I barely know ‘a! 

Oh, and I almost forgot! They are in Super Smash Bros. as well! Bowser Jr.’s moveset is a treasure trove of little references to Mario gadgets, and even though Bowser no longer tosses these guys from his Clown Car, his son has taken up the job! Only in this game, Mechakoopas explode. Uh oh! They didn’t do that before! Still, I really like popping a Mechakoopa out of its Mechakoopa Compartment just to see it wander around the stage. It’s fun!

Now that’s all I have to say about good old Mechakoopas, but I’d like to give a special shoutout to this guy in particular- the Micro Mecha-Bowser, from Super Mario Galaxy! For a long time, I assumed they were just Mechakoopas with a different design... But this definitely looks like a beefed up version of the Mechakoopa, with their big goofy teeth, their pig nose and their funky cross-hair eyes! These dudes can breathe fire too, so they really are more like Bowser! And if there’s a Micro Mecha-Bowser, there’s gotta be a normal one!

“Whassup? I heard somebody call my name!”

Harumph! Nobody called you, Mecha-Bowser from Super Mario Galaxy (2007)’s Toy Time Ga- Er... hold on a second. You actually are exactly the person I was talking about after all! My mistake! Though I do wish you’d at least give us a heads up when you’re gonna show up, given you’re the size of a small planetoid!

Yeah, the Micro Mecha-Bowsers are named after this big robot from Toy Time Galaxy, Mecha-Bowser (not to be confused with Mecha-Bowser or Mecha Bowser)! Though I have to say, there isn’t much family resemblance! He’s so blue and un-turtle like! Still, this must’ve been my favorite mission in Galaxy as a kid- I’d replay it over and over again just because the idea of climbing on a giant planet-sized robot and dismantling it piece by piece was so cool! It was like Shadow of the Colossus before I knew what the heck that was!

Well that’s about the extent of the Mechakoopa family. Isn’t it fun? There’s a moral to be learned here, and it’s that, uh... little wind-up toys are very charming! Um, I suppose. Look, writing conclusions is hard! 

Mechakoopa

[47beesinarave]

Love in the Air

Part 2

a/n um yes i am alive hello this took a while n honestly im just being impatient bc i want to get further into the story where its more fun for, um, reasons but im very excited for it!!

1.2k words - Love in the Air Masterlist

It was easier to talk to Akaashi than you thought it would be, and It was comfortable being around him. Once you were able to get over the enchanted stupor he would put you under you found how truly relaxing his presence was. You’d still find your eyes naturally draw towards him when you were together, but just as often you’d catch him silently staring towards you. You got to understand how he melded so well with his group of friends, and how he managed to get along so well with Bokuto. You got to know him and it was so much more than you had originally thought.

At first, as much as he was captivating, he was - at least had seemed - placid and distant and the more the two of you would meet up to put everything together the more you realized that his tranquil nature was truly just surface level.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to include this bit in it?” you asked him. The dinner was only a few days away, and the gift near finished save for a few minor details you were adding together.

“Yes, if we changed it at all it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t really sound like Konoha if he wasn’t picking at Bokuto a little bit,” he said sipping his now lukewarm coffee. “This is his nicer version, too, because I told him it is a gift that everyone will see.”

“How kind of him,” you said while adding the final touches to the file on your laptop.

He watched you as you worked, your latte cold and half-finished pushed to the other side of the table. You turned to meet his gaze and smiled.

“You know, it might be kind of funny if we just, didn’t add his bit to it for getting it to you so last minute.”

Akaashi grinned at the thought. “He would say his piece either in this or in front of everyone during the reception in a toast.”

“Exactly, it’d be funny,” you said.

“For everyone except Bokuto.”

“Has that stopped you all before?”

“No, not really,” he laughed.

You worked on finishing the video together, trying not to think about how after this you didn’t have an excuse to meet up with him like this as frequently anymore, and once the wedding was over none at all. All that could really be hoped for was that he wouldn’t turn down going out to get coffee together once the wedding was over and that you could maintain whatever friendship you’d build over the last few weeks.

“I’ll miss this,” you thought as you began packing your laptop and heading towards the exit together. You’d miss how refreshing and easy it was to just talk with him and have fun. How he would think things through carefully and then miss something completely obvious. Every time you would have your meetings for the gift at the coffee shop he became less a fascinating enigma and more real, and the more you found yourself charmed by him. Heading home wasn’t really what you wanted to do right now.

“I’ll see you at the rehearsal dinner,” you said as you waved your goodbye to him. “Thanks for putting this together with me.”

“Yeah of course,” he paused looking as if he wanted to say more, his fingers fidgeting down at his side. “Actually, can I ask you for a favor?”

His unease heavy enough that it was showing slightly in his face was… interesting to say the least. It wasn’t often that you’d see him so obviously unsure.

“What favor?” you asked, more curious about why he seemed so uncomfortable than whatever favor he needed.

“Would you mind being my date for the dinner and the reception?”

Not quite the favor you were expecting

“I’m really kind of tired of the boys, mostly Kuroo and Bokuto, pestering me about asking someone,” he continued. “And I really don’t want Hana to go out of her way to push me to ask someone she finds. It also will be easier because we have to do so much together and help with the wedding.”

“Sure.” You said as you burst into giggles at his sudden rant. “It would honestly save me from the same fate if Hana had found out I didn’t have a plus one yet.”

“Great,” he sighed. “I’ll see you at dinner in a few days.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

---------

The rehearsal dinner was stressful, but it was a lot of fun. You enjoyed seeing your best friend so happy, and you knew she’d be calling you later with the look she gave when she saw you walk in with Akaashi.

Once everyone finished eating you asked Akaashi to go and set up the projector as you asked for everyone’s attention.

“This is a little gift from the rest of us to the two of you. I got pictures and recordings of everyone sharing stories and memories they’ve shared with the both of you and wishing you both the best in the future. We’re all really happy for the two of you.” you finished with a smile and sat down, Akaashi taking the seat next to you as the short video began to play.

It was great to see everyone enjoying it, and the warm smile Hana had the whole time it played. Once the video finished and everyone was getting ready to leave she made her way over to you and held you in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I couldn’t have asked for a better maid of honor.”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you tearing up while you watched it,” you said as you handed her a USB with a copy of it for her to keep. You laughed as she smacked your shoulder, her own giggles joining in.

“By the way, when you get home later you’re going to call me and you’re telling me absolutely everything,” she said with a devious grin, glancing towards Akaashi who stood a few feet away. You rolled your eyes.

“Of course,” you said as you gave her a quick hug goodbye and turned to walk back to Akaashi.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Yeah”

The walk home with him was peaceful and the night was cool. Akaashi glanced down at you as he walked you home, your grin never leaving your face.

“In a good mood?” he questioned, watching as you turned to look at him.

“Yeah, I’m glad that everyone really seemed to love the video.” you beamed. Your heart felt full and warm, but more than how well your little surprise went, you were glad that you were allowed to have this short moment on your way home with him.

“Mmm, me too,” he said. “Bokuto is a generally cheerful and happy person, but the only other times I’d see him smile like that were at Hana.”

“Yeah, it was nice to see,” you whispered as you approached the doors to your apartment. “Thank you, for helping me with it. And walking me home.”

“Of course,” he said as he watched you turn to open your door. “Once the wedding is over we should meet up and get lunch together.”

You almost dropped your keys in surprise at the thought, but looked back at him and smiled.

“I’d really like that.”

Tag List <3

@sleepyhaikyuuu @chi-chanmoosedrip @akaashit-baeji @fern-writes-ig @skyguy-peach @gulfwanq @mochi-poof @akaashichigo @keijilovebot @whalien52dreams @cold-and-cold @marvels-supernaturalsherlock @yusemis @drainedjaz @aizawa-sh0ta @hqmakkitrash @spudicide @asranomical @hakueishirei @akiiyukii @strawbrieshortcake @briswriting @pineapplekween @sosugasweet @macaronnv @agaassi @chxrry-wxne

Tag list is open just let me know!

[eunkimmie]

good morning call — one

[ bakugou katsuki x reader, chapter one ]

this is going to be a longer series that i posted on my quotev so initially i didn't want to post it on tumblr, buuuut i think it’ll be okay. ! based on primarily the Netflix Original series Good Morning Call. side note, im totally gonna end up writing separate endings for other boys because Daichi is too sweet.

summary: you were eager to start your new life in your brand new apartment, but those dreams were kind of crushed when the cold heartthrob from your high school shows up and claims its his apartment, too. no quirk / modern AU

warnings: she/her pronouns, a little bit cliche

word count: 1.6k+

.   .   . 

(Name) held up the small key attached to the ring, a dainty bee charm dangling next to it. She couldn't help but smile, excited to start the next chapter of her life. With a small skip in her step, she walked to school alongside her friends. Mina Ashido, and Kaminari Denki. The two were lively, and the trio were rarely caught apart from one another at school. Mina was outspoken, and extroverted. She worked well to balance out (Name's) more mellow and soft nature. While Kaminari was lighthearted and fun, and wouldn't hesitate to make a fool of himself to make the other two girls laugh.

"Aaah! He's here!" Mina squealed, rushing her friends over to the side. (Name) cocked her head a bit, confused. It was only when the girls' of her school turned their heads in sync. Walking down the hall was a blank-face second year, and he seemed almost oblivious to the girls who started screaming excitedly at the sight of him. "Bakugou Katsuki! He's so cool. Rumor has it he's a bad boy, too! Be still my beating heart!" (Name) pursed her lips at the sight of the boy blatantly rejecting a first-year's invitation to a Christmas party. She watched the scene unravel, three girls approaching the girl, all undeniably beautiful. They were known for their various traits, their leader being the golden-girl, with her proper manners and high grades. Intelli Saiko, a demanding girl with white hair. She always stood in the middle, which only asserted her dominance. The next, known for her bad-girl edgy type persona, Utsushimi Camie. Perhaps her skirt was pulled up a bit higher than the others, and maybe her shirt was unbuttoned a bit lower than everyone else's. Boys were easily drawn to her. The last was Himiko Toga, a cute girl who always seemed to have a smile on her face. Regardless, there seemed to be something more sinister lurking behind her bright and bubbly exterior. (Name) could only sigh. How sad it was to be mesmerized by someone so cold.

.

.

.

"M-Mom!" (Name) stuttered, rapidly trying to wash her hands and talk to her mother on the phone at the same time. "Hold on, please!" With that, she ran up to the roof as her mom scolded her playfully to hurry. The sun made her squint as she stepped outside, the scenery bringing a smile to her face.

"Make sure to take care of yourself, and if you need anything, call us!"her mother exclaimed cheerfully from the other end of the phone.

"Yes, of course. Okay, I have to go, see you!" With that, she hung up and sighed. Pushing her hair out of her eyes, (Name) stuffed her phone back into the pocket of her blazer. Today was going to be a busy day, but the thought of furnishing her new apartment made her giddy.

"Hey."

(Name) squeaked, turning around hastily. "You scared me!" The face was unmistakable—the way his eyes seemed to narrow when he stared at girls, and how his lips parted slightly in irritation. Bakugou Katsuki. (Name) gulped, instinctively tensing her shoulders as he approached.

"You're the one who wanted to talk to me? You're awful plain looking to be threatening me like this." He held his phone out to her, (Name's) brow furrowed in confusion. Reading over the note made her gasp. "If you don't meet me on the roof at lunchtime, I will...Oh!"

Bakugou seemed confused. "You're surprised even though you wrote it? How stupid." (Name's) lips parted in mild shock. Who was this guy to be calling her stupid? "I didn't write that mail." Bakugou stared down at her, hands in his pockets. He turned to leave without another word. "Hey! You made a mistake, you don't get to be sour!" (Name) called out, arms folded over her chest. She continued, looking down in hesitation before continuing. "And...You should be nicer to girls. You can't be mean to them just because they admire you. What if they jumped for real?"

"...Leave me alone."

"What?! I'm just trying to be helpful!" Bakugou seemed to scoff at that, pitying her with only a sideways glance. His face made her want to scream. "Your zipper is undone...Just trying to be helpful." he mocked before leaving through the doors. (Name) looked down to see that her skirt zipper was indeed undone, and the blush that rose to her cheeks was burning hot. What a smug bastard...Who could be that cold to anyone?! (Name) was effectively frustrated as she clenched her fists and groaned.

"That guy...He's the worst!!"

.  .  .

"So, (Name), are you excited to live on your own? I'm a bit scared for you," Kaminari noted, glancing down at his friend. She only smiled back up at him and waved off the concern. "No, I'll be okay! I'm really excited, actually." Mina smiled at her friend's own glee, and the three seemed to be in high spirits. Kaminari sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "Still, it's a bit scary for a girl to live on her own...You know, if you ever get scared and need someone to hold, I'm always available." Kaminari's attempt to flirt was shot down by (Name's) oblivious smile.

"Thanks, but I think I'll be okay! Oh, look who it is!" (Name) chirped. "Eijirou! Hello!" Kaminari sighed at (Name's) diverted attention, and Mina could only console him with a pitiful pat on the shoulder.

Kirishima Eijirou, (Name's) kind childhood friend and third year who always spared time to offer (Name) a word of advice, or even just a smile. He waved back at her, stepping through the fence of the sports field to go talk. "(Name)! Nice to see you passing by. Are you off to your new apartment?"

"I am! And you're free to visit any time," she hummed. Kirishima stepped forward, chuckling and placing a gentle hand on (Name's) head. "You live alone now, you shouldn't invite guys over to your place so care-free, okay?"

(Name) blushed, giggling at his antics. The two had known each other for so long, that Kirishima was like a brother-figure to (Name). "I'm a big girl now, I can take care of myself!" Kirishima could only smile fondly at the other, ruffling her hair before glancing back at the football team. (Name) got the hint moving forward to hug Kirishima. "I'll let you go now! I'll see you later, Eijirou!" The red-headed boy flushed, laughing nervously and scratching his cheek. Sometimes he still found himself caught off guard by how openly touchy (Name) was, even if he should've come to accept it by now. "Have fun unpacking, and text me as soon as you're done!"

"Of course! Bye-bye, Eiji!"

.  .  .

(Name's) day of relaxation was quickly taken over by box, after box, after box. She knew that the trouble of moving would be all worth it once everything was in its' proper place, but for now, she sighed. It all just seemed too overwhelming at the time.

"Awe, cheer up, (Name). This place is huge, and for only 80,000 yen a month? I'm jealous," Mina groaned, leaning back on (Name's) bed. The three were sat in the floor, using a box as a makeshift table for their snacks. After they helped (Name) move all of the boxes in, they decided to take a break. Luckily, Kaminari had been kind enough to bring a bag of treats.

"I wouldn't say jealousy...I mean, ever wonder why the place is so cheap? Maybe it's...y'know..." Kaminari muttered, pressing a curious finger to his lip. Mina gaped, smacking the boy lightly on his shoulder. "Don't say that, Denki you dunce! You'll make (Name) scared!" The girl at question gulped, looking around cautiously. The three were silent, (Name) feeling more nervous than ever. A crash sounded from outside, the high pitched noise causing (Name) to squeal and throw herself forward into Kaminari's arms. "Noo!" she screamed, covering her face. The blonde boy reddened, instinctively wrapping his arms around the smaller girl. "You guys can't leave! My apartment is haunted!"

"See what you did!" Mina scolded, pulling (Name) away from Kaminari. "I'm sorry, (Name), but we have to get going...We don't have an apartment to ourselves, and our parents need us home. But rest assured! There are no ghosts in your place, it was just Denki trying to scare you." Mina cooed at the other, patting her hair supportively. (Name) whimpered, but complied and showed them to the door. Standing at the doorframe, (Name) looked up at Kaminari with doe eyes. "Denki? Do you promise my place isn't haunted?"

"I promise, (Name)," he laughed, sticking his pinky out and interlocking it with hers. "Pinky promise." Hesitantly, (Name) nodded and said goodbye to her friends.

.  .  .

(Name) sighed, looking pathetically down at the cup of flavoring salt she placed by her door. Surely that wasn't enough to keep the demons out, but it granted her at least some peace of mind. Still, she was jumpy, and the sound of movements and suspicious thuds coming from the outside made her feel on edge. Maybe it was a bit embarrassing to be as jumpy as she was, even moreso considering she jumped by her phone sounding off, but her friends made her think of the worst. (Name) yelped, the sound coming from outside resembling too much like a sharp knock on the door for her comfort. Escaping into her room, her hands shakily gripped a racket. Gulping, (Name) approached the door, hiding behind a wall. As the door opened, her heart dropped.

Footsteps sounded through the entryway of her apartment before nearing. (Name) squeezed her eyes shut, immediately smacking the intruder with her weapon. "Robber! Criminal!" Her attack method wasn't the most elegant, hands moving wherever they could without a hint of precision.

"What the fuck—?!" (Name) peeked her eyes open, dropping the racket upon seeing who stood in front of her.

"Y-You...?"

Bakugou Katsuki was in her apartment.

[arsenicpanda]

Opinions on your top 5 Riverdale ships and/or characters

Oh man, this has been in my ask box for like…two months?  And I haven’t answered because I just haven’t been up to it, but I am now!  So let’s go!

Favorite Ships

1. Betty/Jughead:  There’s really no contest here.  The rest of these don’t really have an order, but bughead is 100% on top.  The thing about bughead is that it has so many fun tropes wrapped up in it: childhood friends, one-sided pining (if you subscribe to the theory that Jughead has had a thing for Betty for years), investigative duo, poor boy/rich(er) girl, bad boy/good girl, brooding boy/gentle girl, gang member/cheerleader (which might happen enough to be a trope only on Riverdale, but whatever), dark power couple, etc.  Now, I love all those tropes, but here’s the thing: it’s so much more than that. These are each facets of bughead, yes, but they’re still greater than the sum of their parts. They both have a darkness in them that I absolutely love and want more of, but they also have a devotion to the people they care about that is quite admirable. They just fit together, and they’re such equals and so devoted to each other, and it’s just maximum levels of charming.  Bughead ticks a lot of boxes for me, and the only ships that outrank them (shirlulu and izanamie) do some of those tropes but to a greater degree.

- FP/Gladys:  Yeah, I don’t know what it is about this exactly, but I find them really endearing?  Like, they’re both such disasters and masters of neglecting their children, but I really like them together?  I mean, they used to commit armed robbery together, maybe, and that is just excellent. Also, I think I just want the Jones family to reunite for Jughead’s sake, and supporting this ship is part of it.

- Kevin/Joaquin:  God, I miss them.  The original Southside/Northside ship, with its mixture of bad boy/good boy and poor boy/rich(er) boy, and they were just precious.  Joaquin was proud to be with Kevin, and Kevin deserves that, damnit. Also! The way Joaquin just stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted Kevin even though he probably needed to escape as fast as possible and the way Kevin was like “I have to go after Joaquin” in the middle of the heist were just so cute.  And omg, the way Joaquin would just fold when Kevin asked him for information was a delight. I needed more of them; they were precious.

- Archie/Josie:  Short-lived though it was, I found them really cute.  There was an innocence to Archie and Josie, and it was nice to see Archie pulled out of Riverdale darkness (which, as much as I love it, has always been a genre he doesn’t quite belong in) and to see Josie connect with someone and be open to something beyond just music, but without losing focus on her music.  Also, they could sing together, and it was adorable. Like, their musical number was just the cutest. Honestly, if this had continued, it could have pulled Archie out of the main plot even more or it could have finally dragged Josie into the main plot and give her the screentime she deserved.  I feel like this ship could have really stolen my heart.

- Cheryl/Veronica:  You know, I like choni and varchie, I really do, but something about these two charms me.  It’s maximum levels of rich bitch, and I love that. Cheryl and Veronica had some nice bonding back in season 1, and the way Veronica used to be the kind of mean girl that Cheryl is now is so interesting to me.  Veronica would drag Cheryl into be slightly nicer in a cute but also potentially comical way. They’re two smart ladies who could combine their fortunes of shady origins and become this terrifying power couple that crushes their enemies under their stiletto heels.  And it would be so funny to watch Cheryl interact with Veronica’s friends, like oh my god, Veronica dragging Cheryl, Betty, and Jughead onto double dates with just the highest potential for disaster would be amazing.  I also would enjoy adding Toni to this to make a ship with maximum scary lady, I must admit.

Favorite Characters

1. Jughead Jones:  Was there ever any doubt?  Jughead is best boy and my second all-time favorite male character, right behind the passive-aggressive legend known as Koizumi Itsuki.  He’s got layers, man. He’s a decent guy, but he has a darkness in him that I love. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Jughead’s cut from the same cloth as Lelouch Lamperouge, and I find that fascinating.  Jughead is willing to do a lot to protect the people he cares about, but he has a few moral lines (although I wonder how unmoving those are). He’s got a prickly, brooding exterior that conceals a gooey inside full of love and sadness and abandonment issues (seriously, Jughead’s abandonment issues and desire for family/people that won’t leave him drive and explain a lot of his actions).  And watching him interact with the people he cares about is just a delight.  He and Betty are adorable at their softest and their darkest, and he’s just the sweetest to JB, and watching him investigate with FP is just the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.  Also! His willingness to believe crazy conspiracy theories that turn Riverdale into an eldritch nightmare amuses me to no end. I love this grumpy, loving, varying levels of crazy, weirdly smooth dweebazoid of a gang leader.

2. Betty Cooper:  Oh man, do I love Betty Cooper; she is so much more than meets the eye.  She looks like a sweetheart, and even is to a certain extent, but underneath lies a certain ruthlessness, as well as a darkness and a complete disregard for the law when it suits her.  She’s so determined and so smart, and she doesn’t give up on the people she loves, even when maybe she should. And you just don’t fuck with Betty Cooper or the people she loves if you know what’s good for you.  Like a dog with a bone, that girl, she doesn’t let up on a mystery until the end, especially if her loved ones are involved. Betty Cooper is silk, or maybe something soft and fluffy, hiding steel in the best way, and I love her for it.  Watching her as she relentlessly pursues leads and does morally, ethically, and/or legally dubious things like blackmail people and bribe people is such a delight, as are her gentle and vulnerable moments when she’s not in tough investigator mode.  She’s just this badass sweetheart who will hunt her enemies to the ends of the earth, drag them back, and then, after turning them in, do something wholesome like go out for burgers and milkshakes with her friends or cuddle with Jughead, and I love that to no end.  For me, Betty Cooper is a very unique character, and oh, how I love unique.

- FP Jones:  God, this walking disaster.  FP is terrible at literally everything he does, and, for some reason, I really love that.  I mean, FP is Problematic, yeah, and my enjoyment of FP is partially rooted in some personal stuff, but I also just find him really amusing.  And watching him try to be an effective gang leader or a good father or a competent sheriff is just hilarious because he is so bad at all of those.  I especially love watching him investigate with Jughead, by which I mean watching him stand there all “yeah, this is official police business, you have to answer my questions” while Jughead does all the talking.  Also! The extent to which he is proud of his son is both hilarious and endearing, and the way he wants Jughead to keep writing and get out of Riverdale warms my heart. Look at this disaster man and his tragic backstory and his timeline that doesn’t make any sense and has always been too busy (He was in the army AND he has a chunk of priors that he must have committed as an adult because juvenile records are sealed AND he became the leader of the Serpents AND he started a business with Fred Andrews, at which point he must have no longer been in the Serpents.  Where did he find the time?). I love him.

- Penny Peabody:  Penny is, hands down, Riverdale’s best villain, probably at least partially because she’s used sparingly.  But I just love how mean and ruthless and cunning she is. Also, the way she condescended to Jughead all “Is that what mommy told you?” about her not-death was goddamn amazing.  Every moment Penny is on my screen is gold. Also, she’s largely competent. Yeah, the Joneses keep taking her down, but she always comes back as a legitimate threat. Penny Peabody adapts to whatever life throws at her, and I can respect that.

- Archie Andrews:  Weren’t expecting this, were you?  Honestly, Gladys could have also gone here (or in Penny’s spot), but I decided to talk about Archie today.  Archie is human golden retriever, and I love him for it. He’s a sweet kid, and he means well, but by god is he a dumbass.  He doesn’t quite belong in this show, y’know? Like, Jughead belongs in a crime movie/gang movie/Very Special Episode, and Betty belongs in a crime/horror movie, and Veronica belongs in a mafia movie, while Archie is just this regular kid from a nice family who should probably be in some wholesome coming of age movie or a dog movie or something.  But he still really wants to help! Normally I don’t like dumb characters very much, but for some reason I find Archie really endearing. Maybe it’s his devotion to people he cares about? And, man, Archie cares pretty easily. Yeah, he’s gullible and he was a fascist for a little bit there, but he’s mostly a good kid, something season 3’s juvie arc showed off really well.  He just instantly bonded with these other kids, and he kept that bond even after he left juvie. And he just took a random kid he just met into his home, and it was precious (even though it ended in him getting sliced). He’s got a big heart and an empty head, and I just love him.

And that’s it.  I’ve probably repeated myself a bit, but what’re you gonna do, y’know?

[you-andthebottlemen]

49 - Requests - fighting with Van, making up, cute date fluff.

Hi everyone!! So, recently I received the first requests I’ve gotten since I announced I was no longer taking any. And after thinking about, I decided to try my hand at writing them. After being pretty absent so long, I am unsure how good the writing is but I enjoyed getting back into it. The last few fics I have posted randomly have been originals. Anyway. Here is a fic based on the first two requests below which are the recent ones and then the third request which has sat in my inbox for well over a year. I am really sorry to whoever requested this and the other requests that still sit in my inbox since I said I was no longer answering them... But thank you for your support and compliments, it really means a lot to me and encourages me to keep trying. I hope you enjoy this, especially those who requested! Please send me any feedback, it’d be so helpful haha. Love youuuuu. E x. 

I love this page so much!! Could you please do an angst fix where you’re on tour with the lads and you and van argue backstage and he’s getting angry but sees you cry for the first time and you make up lots of fluff please! Xx

&

Hey I love your fanfics and imagines!! Could you do one based on where you and van get into an argument but then obviously make up afterwards. I just need some real cute fluff. Thank you!!! ❤

&

could you do something where the reader is into astronomy/stargazing, and she and van go out on a stargazing sort of date? i'm picturing lots of blankets and hot chocolate out far from the city.. p.s. you are an amazing writer ❤

*************************************************************************

The road was bumpy, and you could feel your lunch from earlier that day, a gas station hot dog, swirling unpleasantly in the pit of your stomach. On top of this, you felt pretty down. Regardless, you stared out the window at the bleak countryside as if you were fine. Drops of rain began falling from the grey sky around you and landed in spats on the glass as if they were the tears you wouldn’t let fall. If you were a character in a novel, this would be called ‘pathetic fallacy’ - a literary device for when your emotions were attributed to the nature surrounding you. You were a couple of weeks into the tour by now and it wasn’t all Van had cracked it up to be.

The shows were incredible, yeah. But apart from that, there was a hell of a lot of chaos, a lack of proper hygiene, not to mention the lack of nutritious food, and you were incredibly homesick. Van always dreamed big; it was one of your favourite things about him. But in this instance, his idealisation of the rockstar life style was starting to put a crack in your relationship. You were growing tired of his show pony attitude whenever he did an interview. You were tired of his flirtations with other women, however harmless, and once charming, they were. You were tired of being called ‘Van’s Girlfriend’, rather than your name, y/n. You missed having your own space and privacy. It was getting overwhelming being in Van and the other boys faces all the time; everyone was getting antsy. You were sick of touring, plain and simple. The stressed it put you through caused you to take it out on Van and that only made things worse.

You’d first met Van while he was on his last tour a few months ago. It had made sense at the time, in the weeks leading up to this one, for you to join him rather than spend the weeks alone. You were a bartender at a small place they’d stopped to celebrate after a show once and from the second Van laid eyes on you, he was determined to make you his. And he did, easily. He was so loveable. It was kind of ridiculous how easy it was to love him, flaws and all. Though the cracks were starting to appear. Small ones but cracks, nonetheless. Everything was different. Your routines were now non-existent. You felt isolated and at the same time completely suffocated. It was not a good environment for your mental health. You couldn’t help but harbour some resentment towards Van for letting things get this way between you and him. For being so swept up in himself, the band and the fans. It was overwhelming and you had no escape. The only times you had peace and quiet was if you decided to stay alone on the bus during a show or sound check. Though at the same time you could hardly blame him at all because you knew how he loved it and what it meant to him. None of this was his fault, really. 

“You alright y/n?” Larry asked, sliding into the seat opposite you and placing your mug, freshly filled with tea, on the table between you. 

Van was asleep out the back of the bus. 

“Thank you. Yeah, I’m good. Regretting that hot dog though,” you joked, trying to hide your sour mood. 

“I think we all are,” Larry laughed, adjusting his bandana. 

The stench of the small bus toilet was proof enough. You felt queasy just thinking about it. You gazed back out the window and sighed softly. Only 3 more weeks. 

................

When Van wasn’t preoccupied with press or whatever, he was often busy making plans and doing things for the second album. You just left him to it. You didn’t want him to think you were getting in the way. Though you were desperate for some down time with him away from the bus or a venue. A date. Something. Something that wasn’t just falling asleep together, eating cold baked beans for breakfast with the band or getting drunk after a show. While at the start tour was all a bit dreamlike and still had its charm, now you yearned for normality. You missed your friends too; facetime wasn’t doing it for you anymore. You ached a bit for Van, realising this was how tour must make him feel too when he has to leave people behind. It was more difficult than it seemed and you weren’t even the one performing every night.

“Sold out tonight, babe!” Van exclaimed with a grin as he stepped through the small door from the middle section of the bus and sat on the lounge beside you. 

You put your book down. You could tell he was excited; his eyes were glistening madly and his voice was all high and squeaky. His hair was a mess so you ran a hand through it to straighten things out a little. He really did make your heart weak. 

“That’s great,” you smiled back. 

You wanted desperately to be as happy as he was. You were really, but it was clouded with other emotions that weighed you down too much to let the good stuff come to the surface. You traced his face with your eyes. His smile was so wide he almost had dimples and you could make out those strange little red marks that appeared on his cheeks sometimes. You let out a breath.

“Reckon after this second album we’ll be well on our way to arenas!”

You hoped he’d never lose his boyish optimism.

“Yeah,” you replied, leaning your body against his warm shoulder slowly. “Hot tub for your ma.”

You now rested your head on his shoulder, wanting to be close to him. His worn leather jacket smelt of smoke, but you didn’t mind. You looked up at him with tired eyes.

“You know it.” He grinned, showing his crooked teeth in all their glory and then kissed you on the hairline.

“I’m off for a smoke then got an interview at 3, do you wanna come?”

“To the interview?” you asked, lifting your head. 

“Yeah.”

“No it’s okay. I’ve seen you do them before,” you replied bluntly.

You regretted your tone instantly. You could almost feel Van’s face fall and his body language stiffen. He was confused at your sudden change of mood and the air between you became tense.

“Oh… well just thought we could spend some time together.”

This made you want to scoff. Time together?

“You, me, the band, the interviewer and the camera man isn’t exactly spending quality time alone together is it...” you replied, covering your sarcasm with a jokey tone and raised eyebrow, trying to come off a little more light hearted than you felt. 

You sat up to face Van properly and teased him with a lopsided, toothless smile. 

“No, you’re right love. We’ll go on a proper date. You and me. Dinner out before the show?”

“No beans on toast?”

“No beans on toast.”

“Sounds perfect,” you smiled. 

Your heart filled with a warmth you’d been missing and you leaned in for a quick kiss, closing your eyes. You and Van stayed together with your faces close for a few seconds, foreheads resting together, before he got up without a word and left once again. This felt good. Normal.

You sighed. At least you had that to look forward to. 

..............

While Van was at his interview, you used all the facilities that the bus and the public bathrooms at the venue had to offer in attempt to get ready for your date with Van. It had been so long since you’d pampered yourself in any way or gotten especially dressed up. When Van told you about touring, you knew it wouldn’t be glamorous, but you’d expected to be getting dressed in nice clothes a lot more often than you ever did. It was definitely ‘boy’ territory and you were the odd one out.

As you got ready, you thought how you’d probably not event spent an intimate moment with Van all tour without either everyone knowing and clearing the bus or accidentally walking in on it. You were well and truly over the teasing winks or the awkward smiles from band and crew alike. Yet another reason you yearned for the privacy of your own home. 

You managed to shave your legs in the tiny cubicle shower on the bus, painted your nails and styled your hair. You put on the one dress you’d packed and some slightly nicer shoes than your muddy black boots. Once you were satisfied with how you looked, you sprayed perfume and relished in the feeling of being decently clean and presentable for the first time in a while. 

You were sat reading your book in the lounge out the back of the bus (that had become yours and Van’s bedroom) when he burst through the door. 

“Wow, y/n...” he breathed, sounding slightly taken aback, “you look incredible.”

You couldn’t help but blush a little as you stood up.  

“Ready to go?”

Van looked at the floor and ran a hand through his hair nervously. You swallowed.

“Uh... about that y/n... I was just coming in to tell you that...”

Your heart sank like a stone in water. 

“This label guy is coming to the show and wants to talk beforehand and-”

He took a step towards to you and you put a hand on his chest to stop him coming any closer.

“It’s fine,” you smiled, showing teeth. “I understand. Go.”

Your voice came out higher pitched and breathier than usual. You were pissed off and didn’t want him to know. You ushered him away with shoeing hand gestures and a tight, forced smile.

“I’m sorry y/n.”

“Just go. Don’t keep him waiting.”

And with that, you saw the back of Van’s messy brunette head turn away and exit just as quickly as he entered. You sat back down with a groan. You wanted to let go and cry into your hands. Part of you wished you’d told him how disappointed you were rather than letting him believe you were completely fine. But how could you? This was potentially, a big moment for him and the band. 

You were all dressed up with nowhere to go it seemed. Though instead of melting into a puddle of tears and self-pity, you decided to do something completely out of character. You were going to go out and find your own fun, one way or another. You picked up your heavy heart and left the bus, off into the night.

………….

After a short walk past the venue and line of fans already gathered, you found a pub, or bar. Something. This would do, you thought. You walked inside more confidently than you felt and went straight to the bar. You ordered a martini with an olive and immediately felt like you’d slipped into the skin of a woman far more extravagant and fancier than yourself. You liked this newfound, make believe confidence you suddenly had. 

You sat alone at the bar with your drink, happily day dreaming and letting the alcohol buzz sooth your brain. You occasionally drifted into earshot of other people’s conversations and couldn’t help but eavesdrop. You loved people watching too. The worries you had about Van slipped into the back of your mind and this felt good. 

“Can I buy you another?” a deep voice suddenly asked from behind you. 

You turned around slowly and saw a man with intense eyes staring back at you. He had a dark goatee and you could see the glimmer of what was probably a gold tooth, between his lips as he smiled.

“I’m fine thank you,” you replied.

“A lady as beautiful as yourself shouldn’t be alone,” he responded, his voice slightly gravelly. 

He sat in the seat beside you and you gulped. He made eye contact with the waiter and pointed at your glass. You were promptly brought a new one and you hesitated to touch it. 

“Go on, won’t hurt,” the man pushed. “My treat.”

“T-thank you.” 

You awkwardly smiled and the man held his drink to yours. You wanted to escape before he got the wrong idea.

“Bottoms up,” he said as he took a swig of his pint.

You took a small, cautious sip of the new martini.

“I’m Dave, what’s your name sweetheart?”

You didn’t really want to give him your real name and you didn’t like being called sweetheart by anyone other than Van. You wanted to be the posh lady you pretended you were earlier. She would have taken the drink gladly and walked away by now.

“Y/n,” you stammered.

“So, what are you doing here all by yourself then y/n?”

Dave turned to face you.

“Uh- sorry, I uh have a boyfriend he-”

“As do I love,” he laughed, his slightly wrinkled face creasing into a friendly grin. 

Your lungs instantly let go of the breath you didn’t realise you were holding. Dave was just a kind stranger, not a creep. Phew.

“Oh,” you replied. 

“Sorry, y/n. Didn’t mean to give you a wrong impression or nothing!” Dave apologised.

“Oh no it’s okay. Just gotta be careful, you know.”

He nodded. 

“So where is your boyfriend tonight then Dave?” you giggled and turned to face him.

“Some meeting or something,” he shrugged and took another gulp of beer.

“Mine too,” you replied, looking down. 

It was probably the alcohol, but you began to feel all sulky and sad again. You missed Van; your Van. The Van who left muddy boots and a smoke-stained leather jacket by your door, who would serenade you while making you tea of a morning before you left for work, who made you watch Big Fish one hundred times.

“Oi now love don’t go getting sad. Let’s get you another drink and have a good time.”

Soon enough you were floating on a martini cloud. There was music playing and you were dancing with Dave and a few ladies out on a hen’s night. This was the most fun you’d had in ages. You spun around and let your hair down. Literally and metaphorically. 

“Marriage! That’s a big deal!” you half shouted over the music, while dancing with the bride to be. 

“Yeah! He’s the one!” she replied with a lovesick smile. 

“I think I’ve met the one,” you drunkenly slurred, more to yourself than her. 

You both kept grooving to the music as if you were in a nightclub, not a pub with an open floor and some cheap blue disco lights.

“Yeah? Where is he?”

She was the second person to ask that tonight and it hurt. He should be there with you, drinking and dancing on tables. 

“He’s in a band!” you yelled. “Got a show tonight so he’s at the venue. Bailed on our date though.”

“So that idiot let you go out alone?” she replied, her face shell shocked. “You could get anyone you wanted! Find better!”

“Yeah, it feels like it’s either me or the band,” you admitted loudly. “And I’m not even close second at the moment.”

She obviously had no idea what you meant or was too drunk to hear you as she just smiled, took a sip of her drink and danced away. At that moment, you felt a hand on your arm and you turned around.

“This idiot, has been lookin’ all over for you.”

Van was stood still, his face straight. This told you that you were in trouble. You were unsure how much he’d heard but were too drunk to care. 

“I’m not a child,” you responded simply. 

“I was worried y/n.”

You rolled your eyes. Van handed you his jacket, which you refused to put on, and ushered you outside. You turned to wave a final goodbye to Dave, but he seemed to be preoccupied, presumably by his returned boyfriend. Though he looked a lot happier to see him than Van did you. 

You walked next to Van and the others who had been waiting outside, with your arms crossed and face stern. That’s what you get for having a good time, you supposed. 

“I’d got out the meeting early, wanted to still take you to that dinner I’d promised,” Van said, sounding frustrated. 

 “Why am I in trouble?” you asked angrily. 

He clearly didn’t realise how drunk you were. 

“Babe, you’re not in trouble. I just didn’t know where you went and-”

“Oh, what so because you’re off doing special band, no girlfriends allowed business, I have to wait back on the bus bored stiff like some 1950’s housewife?”

“What?” Van questioned, his voice confused and short.

He stopped walking and faced you. His expression was contorted into that confused but not the cute kind of confused look. He motioned for Larry and Benji to keep walking without you. 

“You know exactly what I mean!”

“I don’t have time for this y/n. I have to soundcheck. I’ll see you in the green room yeah?”

He leaned in to kiss you on the forehead as if that would wash away any problem you had. You you swatted him away. He looked hurt but turned and walked off regardless. You wobbled on your feet and sighed. You were annoyed that he’d turned it into your fault; that you were in the wrong for going out after he cancelled your plans only to come back trying to reinstate them as if you’d just sit there waiting for him. But you felt like all you ever did was wait for him to be finished with whatever band thing he was doing, so how could you blame him when that was what he’d come to know?

“Yeah, gotta get back to the boys,” you muttered to yourself, watching Van’s blurry figure disappear from you once again.

........

Crew members filed in, pushing or dragging heavy black equipment boxes, others conducted soundcheck with the boys breezing in and out. You made your way through the chaos to the green room, feeling pretty invisible. You’d changed out of your dress and traded it for jeans and a hoodie. Your heart felt heavy once again and you weren’t feeling those martinis as strongly anymore. You grabbed one of the bottles of wine meant for the band, knowing they wouldn’t touch it before the show anyway, and drowned your sorrows a little. 

You ignored the world around you as best you could. You hated sitting there with the weird, half-argument between you and Van hanging in the air. You didn’t know if he’d heard what you said. You regretted saying it in the first place.

 “Save some for us y/n!” Bondy joked as he sauntered in and sat beside you, playing with his lighter.

You laughed, but not because what he said was funny. It was a spiteful laugh if anything. Bondy was blissfully unaware of what was going on. Or what your drunken, angry brain had convinced you was going on. Deep down you knew this was an unnecessary fight. 

Van came into the green room and silently sat on your other side, placing a warm hand on your thigh and leant over to kiss you. You quickly moved your face again and he just managed to graze your cheek instead. Out the corner of your eye you saw his eyebrows furrow in confusion and his forehead crease a little. It was your own fault he didn’t understand your mood; you’d allowed him to think everything was fine and peachy for days. 

“What’s goin’ on y/n?” he asked quietly. 

“Nothing,” you replied, teeth clenched, and eyes averted from Van’s gaze.

He clicked his tongue to his teeth and let out a breath. You gripped the wine bottle tightly in your fist and took another swig.

“Okay that’s enough of that...”

Van took the bottle from your hands and placed it down on the coffee table. This only outraged you more, but you knew better than to fight him about that too right now. 

“Why’re you being like this? Why’d you go out on your own earlier too? Just to get drunk with a bunch of strangers?” 

Van’s tone was frustrated and strained, you knew he didn’t understand any of this at all. To be honest, you didn’t really either and didn’t know what to say or how to put your feelings into words. Especially right now.

“Like I said before, you expect me to drop everything, sit around and wait for you to finish with the band.”

“You didn’t have to come on tour y/n.”

“No- I mean, like...”

“Save it y/n, I heard you before. You think I don’t care, that it’s only about the band.”

Van’s voice was low and sounded hurt. You knew you were being a little unfair and it made you ache seeing his face contort with frustration towards you.

“How could you think that?” he questioned.

You didn’t answer and he shook his head slightly.

“I didn’t mean what I said, it just came out,” you defended quickly. “I was excited to go out tonight. Do something with just you, something that was more us. I feel insignificant here.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” 

“How could I Van?” you exclaimed. 

Your eyes burned and you could feel the tears threatening to fall.

“Christ y/n, if you aren’t happy with me, you should tell me.”

Van had stood up now and he sounded angry. Proper mad at you. This alone felt like a tonne of bricks crashing down onto your chest. It was unlike him to jump to the extreme like this and question the whole relationship. You glanced around the room, embarrassed to see all the guys still in there. You quickly grabbed your bag and ran past Van and out the door into the hallway. 

“Y/n!” you heard him shout behind you. 

You kept walking. The tears were streaming down your cheeks now and you didn’t want him to see. You didn’t want him to think you were weak or pathetic or not strong enough to handle his lifestyle. You thought you were, but maybe you weren’t after all if you’d gotten to this point. Lately, all you’d felt was distance from Van, despite being right there with him on tour. 

When Van finally caught up with you, he grabbed your elbow like he did earlier in the pub and spun you around to face him. You wiped your cheeks and looked at the ground.

When he saw that you were crying, his angry expression melted away.

“Y/n...” he said softly. “What did you mean ‘how could you’?”

“How can I tell you I’m not happy or want more time with you when it’s either me or the band...I know how much the band means to you and I’d never make you sacrifice that. What if we had gone out earlier after all and you’d missed that meeting. What if it had been a meeting that changed your career and I made you lose that opportunity? I couldn’t do that to you.”

You were ranting now, and pretty sure you weren’t even making sense. But Van was quiet and listened. You continued, letting it all just drunkenly spill out. 

“I feel like here, I’m either in the background of everything or I feel suffocated and need a break. It’s overwhelming. That’s why I went out. I didn’t want to just be the girl who pathetically sits around waiting for you all the time. I wanted to have fun, be independent,” you admitted with a small shrug. “I almost feel it would have been easier if I’d stayed home while you went off. That way, I wouldn’t feel like I’m just an extra piece of baggage.”

“You’re not an extra bit of baggage y/n,” Van replied quietly. 

Your perspective had probably only just dawned on him. You knew he hadn’t meant for things to go this way on purpose. He was just oblivious. You looked up. Van reached out and wiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumb. 

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to choose me or the band.”

“I don’t. But this whole thing, it’s never gonna be easy,” Van admitted with a sigh. 

You nodded in sad agreement.

“I’m sorry y/n. I get swept up in everything an’ I have a bad attention span. I’m no good at multitasking. But it’s no excuse. I should be looking after ya’ more and thinking about how you see things.”

You sniffled and felt stupid.

“I’m sorry too, Van. For all of this.”

Your bodies moved closer and soon Van had his long arms wrapped tightly around you. With your face buried in his chest, you let out more drunken sobs. Relief. He held you close and stroked your back slowly. 

“I’ve never seen you cry before,” he said quietly into your hair.

You let out a small laugh. 

“Yeah...”

Van pulled away from you and placed his hands on your shoulders.

“Tell me when you feel crap next time yeah? Call me out on my shit. I need that sometimes y/n,” Van chuckled.

He said this looking right into your eyes so you knew he was serious.

You nodded and sniffled your runny nose. 

“Go get back to soundcheck, rockstar,” you smiled.

Van winked, took you by the hand and led you back to the green room.

..........

You were back on the bus again traveling to a new city, but this time you knew better than to have a gas station meal. As usual, you were sat up with a book in hand under the lamp as it was getting dark outside. 

Suddenly the bus slowed and pulled over. You looked up from your pages in confusion. Then Van appeared from the back with a small smile, holding blankets and two enormous bags. Your eyebrows raised in question.

“Go get your boots y/n. We’re going on a date.”

Once you’d gotten your boots and a warm coat on, you followed Van out of the bus and up the road. You were confused and excited. What was he doing?

“Where are we going?”

“Shh y/n you’ll see.”

Van’s cheeky and smug grin made your heart fluttered with excitement. 

Soon enough, you were walking through a large field. You were unsure if you were allowed to be in there. Probably not, knowing Van. But you followed willingly anyway. He looked like he was swaying under the weight of all he was carrying but wouldn’t let you help him, insisting on being a gentleman. 

Eventually, Van stopped, He threw down the bags on a patch of grass and spread out some of the blankets before sitting down cross legged. You wondered if he had this particular spot in mind or had just walked confidently until he found somewhere of his liking? He patted the space on the blanket to his left, inviting you to sit beside him. Once you did, he opened one of the bags and pulled out a thermos. 

“Hot chocolate?” 

“I’d love one.”

You were grinning from ear to ear. Even in the dark, Van’s eyes were shining bright and he looked sort of angelic under the glowing moonlight. A hyperactive, scruffy angel. But angelic nonetheless. 

“So, y/n, I thought since you love all that space and stars stuff, we could come out here and look at it an’ that.”

“Astronomy?”

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “We can do some stargazin’.”

Your heart melted even more if that were possible; this was perfect. Van poured you a cup of hot chocolate from the thermos. Holding it in your hands warmed you up and made you feel cosy. He really did listen to you and know you. As much as you’d felt ignored lately. He’d remembered your interest in astronomy, something you’d really not mentioned all that much as you knew he wasn’t into it. 

As you sat there cuddled under blankets and drinking hot chocolate on a constant loop, you told him all about your favourite constellations, pointing out the direction they’d be in. You even managed to see one in the sky as it was so clear in the deep navy blue. Being away from a main city really made such a difference when you were trying to look at the stars. Less pollution and a lack of bright city lights made everything so much more visible. It was incredible.

You held Van’s hand tightly in yours. 

“Thank you for this Van,” you smiled as you rested your head down on his shoulder.

“You’re most welcome y/n. I should do this stuff for you more.”

He leaned down and kissed you on the head. You told him about stars and how they were so incredibly far away that the light you could see, was a star that was already dead. You weren’t sure he understood everything you said but he listened intently and was in complete awe of you. You liked showing him this little insight to your world, the same way he did with his music. As the time went by and the night grew colder, Van piled more blankets over you. You were amazed at how many he’d managed to find and how they fit in the bags he’d brought. 

“Where’d you get all these spare blankets?” you asked as he tucked another one over your laps.

“Spare?” he questioned with a smirk. “Stole ‘em off the lad’s beds, didn’t I?”

You rolled your eyes and laughed at him. Typical Van. The two of you shared a long kiss that was only broken by breath and smiling laughter into the other’s mouths. You were giddy in love this night was the perfect end to a crap couple of weeks and hopefully, the start of a wonderful next few to come. 

[hydrospanners]

a very velaran life day

every 3 years, wookiees across the galaxy come together to mourn what they've lost, honor what they love, and celebrate the plans they have for the future. and maybe it's a bit weird to be so invested in a holiday mainly meant for wookiees, but no one ever said the velarans were normal. these are the thinly-veiled holiday vignettes about jedi knight nirea velaran's family and those who orbit them throughout the years. chapter 1 of 17. swtor genfic. character background/origins for my jedi knight nirea velaran who is not actually in this chapter but her dad and aunt are. 2283 words. ao3.

25 BTC - Coronet City, Corellia

The twelfth time A Day to Celebrate starts to play, Ranna flings the transceiver against the wall. It flies through the holotree still clinging to life by the window, leaving the neon branches flickering, its motor whining as it struggles to regen the projection.

She hopes it fails, but even her misery is a disappointment today. The tree solidifies into a standard, jolly tree shape and the busted transceiver is just whole enough to keep playing that stupid fucking song.

A day to celebrate, she thinks, bitterness dripping from her thoughts. What the fuck have I got left to celebrate?

Her knee hurts so much she can’t even hobble to the kitchen for a beer to numb the pain. Not that it matters; she drank the last beer hours ago, and it’s not like there’s anyone around to run to the store for her, is there?

“Happy fucking Life Day,” she grumbles, glaring at the transceiver like that might be enough to finally do it in.

It isn’t. Joy to the Worm starts playing and it’s somehow even worse than A Day to Celebrate.

Pain pulses through her leg, her buzz finally wearing off enough that she can feel her legs again, and Ranna desperately wishes she’d given up and gone to bed hours ago. Her parents won’t be back from work until morning and Raad is--

Who the fuck knows where Raad is? She hasn’t heard from him since she washed out of the Academy. He’d been annoyingly optimistic about it--“It’s not washing out,” he’d tried to tell her. “It’s a medical discharge. That’s different.”--but then he’d vanished into thin air and she’d had to take a public transport back home, alone with her beat up go-bag and the enormous contraption meant to be healing her knee. Not exactly the cutting edge of medical technology, but it was the best they could spare for a useless, busted nugget. Anything for the fucking war.

Stars, she needs a beer.

No. Not a beer. She needs a whiskey. She needs six whiskeys. Six whiskeys and maybe a very limber young lady with a nice smile and nicer--

“Happy Life Day!”

Like she summoned him with her thoughts, Raad bursts through the front door. His face is flushed with cold and his are eyes sparkling with excitement, an almost-beard she’s never seen before sprouting across his jaw. He’s aged six years in the six months since she saw him.

Ranna wants to punch him square in his handsome fucking face.

She wants to throw her arms around him and never let him go.

“Where the fuck have you been?” She demands, reaching for the anger because that’s what she always does. Because tonight is not the night for personal fucking growth.

Raad just laughs. “I missed you too,” he says, grinning like everything is just the way it used to be. Like the galaxy’s still full of possibility and adventure. Like her life didn’t just end before it even got started. “You ready to see what I got you for Life Day?” His smile slips, just for a second, while his eyes search for the missing chrono, now one of the six different pieces of shattered transceiver scattered across the floor. “It is still Life Day isn’t it? I know I was cutting it close, but--”

“Oh, it’s Life Day alright.” Joy to the Worm finally ends, but it’s followed up with a static-y Bingle Bells which is even worse. “All fucking day.”

Undeterred by her mood as always--both his most charming and most annoying trait--Raad just beams at her. “Great. Then let’s go see your present!”

Ranna snorts, gesturing to the sixty pounds of metal caging her stupidass leg. “Not fucking likely.”

“You can still ride in a speeder. C’mon Ranna, it’ll be worth it, I swear!”

It’s a tired line by now and she’s never known it to be true, but Raad looks down at her with those big, brown eyes so full of earnestness and excitement and it doesn’t matter how sideways his promises always go. She’s gonna go right along with anything he asks cause she’s a damned fool who could never say no to that pleading look. Cute fucking asshole.

She scowls up at him half-heartedly. “You want me to go, you’re gonna have to carry my ass.”

He’s supposed to laugh--a year ago he would have--but things have changed while she’s been at the Academy. Her little string bean is tall now, half a head taller than her, and that lanky frame of his has filled out. He reaches down, all earnest excitement, and lifts her out of the chair like she weighs nothing at all. Of course, he bangs her caged leg on the door twice trying to maneuver her out of it, but she’s so proud he can carry her now she doesn’t do more than hiss at him when he does it.

And, of course, grab her blaster from the holster hanging by the door. She learned a long time ago not to go anywhere with Raad without proper precautions.

The speeder is not one she remembers, but it looks just like every other ride he’s ever had. The chassis are a thousand years old and beat all to hell, patched in a dozen places with pieces from a dozen different machines, looking like the only thing holding it together is spit and luck. And if it’s anything like his other rides, under all that rust and despair is a pristine fucking engine that looks and flies like it was lifted directly from the speeder of the most corrupt Senator on Coruscant.

“Where’d you get this hunk of junk?”

Raad shrugs, trying to ease her into the passenger seat without much success on the easing part. “She’s a loaner. My friend Telo’s.”

“You? Without a speeder? Never thought I’d see the day.”

Once Ranna’s in, trying very hard to hide how much her leg hurts after he banged it against everything coming and going, Raad swings his legs over the side of the speeder and drops into the pilot’s seat. “Some things are more important than speeders,” he says, smiling that smile he always wears when he’s trying to hide something. He’s the worst fucking liar in the galaxy.

“Not to you,” Ranna says.

“Might be I’ve learned a thing or two since you left.”

Ranna snorts. “We’ll see about that.”

Seeing as how the speeder isn’t actually Raad’s, the shabby exterior isn’t actually disguising tens of thousands of credits’ worth of exquisite machinery under the hood. It’s a rough, stuttering ride to the spaceport. Ranna tries her best not to swear every time her leg gets knocked around by the damn thing, but she knows she isn’t succeeding.

Raad takes it all in stride. He’s in one of those moods where he’s so happy nothing can touch him and it’d be annoying if it wasn’t so damned contagious.

Happy fucking bastard.

Once the speeder is parked and Raad comes round to haul her useless ass out, Ranna throws up a hand, looking at him suspiciously. “I’m not gonna get arrested for this, am I?”

The trouble is, she can’t figure what he could possibly have gotten her that would have to stay in the spaceport. He can’t afford anything big and he’s gotta know she’d have nowhere to store it even he could. Which basically just leaves smuggled shit. Either that or he finally convinced Kalinski to let her have a free swing. She’s been waiting half her life to nail that smug little motherfucker right in his prissy motherfucking nose and she doesn’t want to get her hopes up or anything, but punching Kalinski would really turn her Life Day around.

All Raad says is, “I guess that depends on how you use it. Let’s go.”

Not exactly comforting. And probably not a free swing at Kalinski either. But it’s not like she’s got a military career left to ruin so what’s another fucking arrest?

She sacrifices her dignity on the pyre of his excitement and lets Raad wrap an arm around her waist, half-dragging her through the port. It’s crowded just the same as it always is. Doesn’t matter if it’s Life Day or Election Day or Invasion Day; someone always needs to get somewhere and there’s always credits to be made taking them, so the spaceport is always crowded. Over the noise and bustle, she thinks she can hear the faint sound of fucking Bingle Bells playing on the loudspeaker.

Thankfully, it isn’t far before Raad’s steps start to slow. “Okay,” he says, “time to close your eyes, Ran. We’re almost there.”

“Close my eyes?” She snorts. “I’m already crippled. You want to blind me too?”

He rolls his eyes. “Just do it, okay? I swear it’s not much farther.”

Making a show of her reluctance, Ranna lets her eyes fall shut. It’s disorienting as hell, but Raad is taking so much of her weight he’s practically carrying her over the last few steps to what she guesses is one of the hangar bays. She’s tempted to have a look, just to see if she’s right, but Raad wants to surprise her and she can’t let him down.

“No peeking!” He warns.

“I think you’re overestimating my curiosity,” she teases, and he laughs right in her ear.

They shuffle to a stop and she can feel the way his hands tighten on her waist, the way he’s almost trembling with anticipation. She can hear the faint countdown he’s doing under his breath as he blows out a long, steadying exhale.

“Okay,” he finally says. “Open your eyes.”

She does.

Her good knee trembles beneath her, almost collapsing under the weight of what she sees.

Ranna can’t see his face, can’t look anywhere but straight ahead, at the impossible thing she can’t be seeing, but she doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s beaming like a thousand suns.

“She’s The Golden Gizka,” Raad says. “And she’s all yours, Ran. Right and legal and everything.”

For the first time in months, Ranna forgets her pain. The weight of everything lifts from her chest, and when she sucks in a deep breath of air, it doesn’t even matter that the air down here is stale and stinks of oil and unwashed bodies. It’s the best gulp of air she’s ever had, because it’s her first breath as a motherfucking captain.

“Well fuck me sideways,” she says.

Raad laughs.

“Karking shit, Raad. H--” She starts to ask how he’d done this impossible thing, but then she remembers the borrowed speeder, the way he vanished right after she washed out.

“Now before you go being impressed my noble generosity,” Raad says, “you should know I’m changing the engine codes if you don’t make me your first mate.”

She laughs, trying to ignore the way tears are stinging at the corners of her eyes. “Who the fuck else would I pick?”

They don’t talk about it, but they both know all her bridges here got burned before she left. And maybe that’s why she’s staring down a glorious hunk of junk with her name on the title; maybe Raad figured out why she burned those bridges. Why she left Corellia in the first place. Maybe he feels like he owes her.

She wants to ask, but she doesn’t. Maybe one day she’ll be brave enough to wonder why.

“You keep stroking my ego like that,” Raad says, “my head’ll be too big to fit up the ramp.”

“Shame.”

He laughs, and then he’s dragging her forward, to the lowered boarding ramp of the ship that is, unbelievably, hers. “I know she’s not much to look at--”

“--but she’s got it where it counts?” Ranna finishes for him.

He hesitates. “Uh, no. Not really. She’s pretty much junk on the inside too. But I know this mechanic...”

He gives her a sheepish look, like she’s going to be upset with him for giving her a garbage ship. Like the condition of the thing matters at all when he just gave her a motherfucking starship.

“Raadris Velaran, I know you aren’t out there hiring my crew before I’ve even boarded my ship.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Captain.” He grins one of those shit-eating grins she loves best. “But as your first mate, I’ve got some suggestions.”

“If it’s Daeleth you’re about to pitch, don’t waste your breath.”

Raad’s face falls. “Really?”

“He’s the best starsdamned mechanic on Corellia, Raad, and that’s saying something. Save the sales pitch for him. Stars know we’ve got fuck all to offer.”

“Oh you don’t need to worry about that. I got a plan.”

Raad having a plan was the very definition of something she needed to worry about, but worry could wait until tomorrow. Today, for the eleven glorious minutes left in the best Life Day she could ever remember having, Ranna Velaran wasn’t going to worry about a damn thing.

“Can she get off the ground at least?” She asks.

Raad waggles his brows at her. “Only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

Ranna’s no expert, but she knows enough to know that The Gizka is in rough shape. Maybe rough enough shape that just cranking the sublight could be the end of her, and possibly the end of everyone in a half-mile radius.

But what’s the point of living without taking a risk every now and again?

Head held high and walking under her own power for the first time in days, Captain Ranna Velaran hobbles slowly up the boarding ramp of her very own starship.

“Happy fucking Life Day indeed.”

[oilooknohands]

Why Oblivion’s Dark Brotherhood was way better than Skyrim’s

Oblivion’s Dark Brotherhood was arguably one of the most memorial parts of The Elder Scrolls IV Oblivion. And as for Skyrim’s, well, I’m convinced that if you took out the pure awesome idea of killing the emperor, it suddenly falls very flat.

Note: I’ve been obsessed with these two games lately. On my latest assassin play-through of Oblivion, I downloaded Deepscorn Hollow, took the weapons of all my fallen comrades after purifying the Cheydinhal Sanctuary and placed them in spots of honour within my new home. Vicente’s claymore, whom I considered my mentor and closest friend after Lucien, was in the pedestal of my bedchamber. I would’ve put Lucien’s there, but I couldn’t find it after he was made into a meat hanging (thanks Mathieu, you fuck). The Overall Organisation

I’m willing to accept the idea of Skyrim’s guild being weaker. In fact, I think it’s a great idea and even gives it more substance. But without the old ways, I’m honestly not sure why the Dark Brotherhood exists at all. I’m not only talking about the Black Sacrament going unheard, because the idea behind the Night Mother goes a little deeper than that.

Let’s look at Oblivion, and how Skyrim’s Dark Brotherhood failed to emulate it.

The old ways were a lot more than just a bunch of rules; the attitude that came with them is what bound an unlikely collection of psychopaths together into what they called a “family”. They’re the reason the assassins had such a fondness for each other.

Let me give you a quote from Lucien Lechance:

“Have you not heard of the Dark Brotherhood? Of the remorseless guild of paid assassins and homicidal cutthroats? Join us, and you'll find the Dark Brotherhood to be all that, and so much more. We are, more than anything, a union of like-minded individuals.”

You’ll note that Lucien wants you to know that the Dark Brotherhood is a union. It’s kind of like a “we’re all in this together” kind of way. And it’s not just tough love, because the mythos of the Night Mother and the assassins being her children is the reason for this family-like bond. Even as you join the brotherhood for the first time in Oblivion, everyone (except Dar) welcomes you with open arms and overwhelming support, because they know that you are now their brother, someone who has come forward to adopt their strict ways of life. Like family, merely by being apart of the brotherhood, you are already deserving of respect and affection, unless you outright prove unworthy.

Now, this whole bond came from the old ways and the attitude it put into its subordinates. Without this way of life (which Astrid refers to as ‘outdated’) why exactly is everyone in Skyrim’s Dark Brotherhood apparently so close with one another? Why do they consider themselves a family if they’ve apparently abandoned this life-style and instead live as they see fit?

Take Nazir for example. He says “-the dark brotherhood saved me from myself.”

Saved you? How? They’re just a bunch of cutthroats with a truce against each other. There’s nothing binding these people together except for the fact that they’re all crazy and homicidal. You can describe them the same way you describe bandits. Why do you, and the rest of these people, apparently have an unbreakable bond, if you’ve abandoned the old way?

I get that Skyrim’s Dark Brotherhood is different, and has purposely abandoned the old ways, but without them it makes no sense that they would even have a reason to call each other a “family”, which they do anyway. It almost downplays how Oblivion’s Dark Brotherhood was so special. The game is saying that any bunch of jokers could become a family as long as they didn’t kill each other and lived together in some place.

The Characters

When Alduin scalds you for not meeting the standard set by the original heros, I feel the same way meeting Skyrim’s Assassins. Aside from Babette and Cicero, I don’t really like any of them. I’ll explain each character, next to the character I think they’re closest to in Oblivion.

By the way, I won’t cover Babette and Cicero, but I’ll quickly say this: Babette had some questionable moments herself, but I forgave them because she was colourful. And Cicero, well, it’s hard to dislike him after you read his journals, and see the way he went to hell and back because of his devotion to his duty. 

MOVING ON.

Astrid/Lucien Lechance

Now, I know Astrid was a traitor, which makes a lot of people dislike her, but I’m going to say that even before the quest Death Incarnate, or even before the quest The Cure for Madness, she’s still kind of awful.

Let me compare these two leaders by describing them without talking about their appearance, abilities or roles.

Lucien LeChance: Cold, calculating, intelligent, strong-willed, loyal, honest, sadistic.

Astrid: Proud, arrogant, paranoid, foolish, short-sighted.

In the simplest terms, Astrid was weak. But I’m not going to dwell on this any longer, because in her case, it was intentional, and this is more salt than criticism. 

Nazir/Vicente Valtieri

I like Nazir. But there’s an issue here.

The reason Vicinte’s role in the story was so genius relates back to what I said earlier, about the old ways being essential to the dark brotherhood’s identity as a family. Vicinte is your first quest-giver, and he tells you not to worry about him feeding on you, because the needs of the dark brotherhood are too great. His role is a great way to introduce to you the mentality behind the merry band of murderers.

The first time you met Nazir, well, he’s an asshole. I know he got better toward the end, but if truth be told, respecting someone after they kill the emperor isn’t exactly a big thing to ask.  

Now, Nazir did grow on me, I’ll admit, but the role of these two characters kind of represent my problem with the Skyrim Dark Brotherhood as a whole.

Festus Krex/M’raaj-Dar

Festus introduces himself as the kranky old uncle that everyone should avoid. I mean, isn’t it a contradiction to introduce yourself like this? It’s like going up to a random stranger on the street and telling them to not talk to you, because you hate talking to people you don’t know.

M’raaj-Dar downright ignored you the entire time, but you could still seamlessly talk to Festus about whatever you wanted. There wasn’t really any reason for him to be a grumpy outsider and it never fit into the story.

Festus grew on me about the same time that I grew on him, but his character is rather uninspired. He’s just a grumpy man who likes being known as the grumpy man.

Feeling that family love right about now.

Veezara/Teinaava + Ocheeva

Veezara isn’t bad, but he wasn’t nearly as interesting as Teinaava or Ocheeva, who set a hard bar to compete with. 

The twins are clearly well-connected, as Ocheeva has been trusted with leadership, and Teinaava is tuned in enough with Argonia to know when and where to send you to kill Scar-Tail. And you get the idea that they’re intelligent and well-travelled. For example, Teinaava knows how to exploit Fort Sutch’s defences and how to escape from Gaston Tussaud’s ship. Ocheeva even mentions completing a contract on a ship at sea near Vvardenfel.

Aside from being a shadowscale, which was cool, Veezara didn’t have much going for him. Ocheeva and Teinaava were very colourful. Most of Veezara’s conversations were like this:

               Tell me about yourself.

                               Well, I am a shadowscale, and I was trained to kill.

               How do you feel about Cicero and the Night-mother?

                               I don’t know. All I know is, I am a shadowscale, and I was                                     trained to kill.

And that’s pretty much it.

You know it’s cooler if you don’t go flaunting it around in everyone’s face. 

Basically, make Veezara an Imperial or a Nord, and he will be far less memorable.

Gabrielle/Telaendril

I don’t really know what to say about Gabrielle, because I don’t know anything about her. (I have the official game guide for Skyrim, and it has bios for every character in the Dark Brotherhood. It doesn’t say much about Gabrielle.)

These characters aren’t even that similar, except for the fact that they’re both Mer archers.

Telaendril had personality. She was eager to please and lusted after the chance to advance in the guild, as seen by her disappointment by not being given the “special assignment”. She also tried telling Gogron about the virtues of stealth, and in doing so she was showing her loyalty to the old ways. However she also let her guard down around Gogron because she had a soft-spot for him (and a wet spot too, or so Gogron claims). It made her seem well connected and apart of the family, and not just a shoe-in to have an archer in the assassin’s guild.

Which Gabrielle was.

I didn’t even know she was an archer until I destroyed the Dark Brotherhood in another profile. I killed Gabrielle’s pet spider and used its venom to poison her, and then I cut her head off of and threw it in the pond.

Arnbjorn/Gogron gro-Bolmog

These characters both fit in the role of “ignorant warrior who just likes to kill”. Gogron likes you from the start, Arnbjorn is an asshole but becomes nicer (am I noticing a pattern here?).

Gogron’s ignorance made him charming, because he was just in the Dark Brotherhood doing what he loved, and he was happy to talk to you even if he wasn’t completely clear on what he was doing.

When asked about the night mother: “All I know is, she pays me to kill people. My own mother should’ve loved me so.”

When Arnbjorn is ridiculed about disrespecting the night mother: “Keep talking little man, and we’ll see who gets punished.”

One of them isn’t aware of his ignorance, and it makes him likeable. One of them embraces what little he knows, which makes him annoying.

Not to mention, why exactly did Arnbjorn dislike you, only to end up respecting you towards the end of the questline? Apparently it’s because you “proved yourself time and time again” but if he was just distrusting of your competence, why wasn’t his wife’s testimony enough? Or, killing Alain and his gang, or something earlier?

Each time I do The Purification, it’s completely heartbreaking. For Death Incarnate, I don’t care.

So long Arnbjorn! I hope you skip the Hunting Grounds and go straight to BURNING IN HELL!

Quests

Something tells me I won’t need to try hard to prove this point.

Skyrim’s assassinations were all very basic. You had a bunch of side missions, where you killed targets who weren’t going anyway. And, you also had the main quests. There were no unique ways to kill any of your targets, and no extra effort required for any of them, except for thinking about an escape.

Oblivion’s assassinations were all so incredible and memorable. Even the most basic one involved smuggling yourself onto a ship to kill the captain and escaping through the back.

There was also the quest where you became a sleuth and tracked down an Altmer skooma addict, or another where you were invited to a party and had to murder each guest (or turn them against each other), or there was infiltrating an occupied military fort, and the prison you started the game in.

The purification, which broke everyone’s hearts, I will speak no more about.  

And my favourite part, defeating the members of the Black Hand. Replaying the quest knowing who these targets REALLY are makes each of them seem like a legend in their own right.

J’Ghasta, the Khajiit martial artist who could kill with his enemies without being armed. Shaleez, the Argonian huntress (who is probably also a shadowscale) who made her lair in an abandoned flooded mine. Alval Uvani, the travelling Dunmer wizard who is a master of destruction. Havilstein Hoar-Blood, the Nord barbarian residing in the mountains, who is probably strong enough to send you down the mountain in a single swing of his axe (or was it a hammer?). And finally, we come to the listener, Ungolim. The Bosmer archer who has by now been anticipating you, and whose hunter-like instincts make him detect you before you strike.

As terrible as it was to learn that you killed even more of your comrades, you learned that each of them was a formidably killer with deadly prowess, not only making them worthy targets of a highly-trained assassin, but the perfect leaders for the shadowy organisation.

Was there anything that memorable in Skyrim’s Dark Brotherhood? 

You fought against some Imperial agents, I guess. You fought Alain.

…

The end :/

In Conclusion

I know most people probably already agreed with me on these points, but I just wanted to get them settled. Hopefully in the next Elder Scrolls game, the brotherhood is strong with the old ways again, and not everyone dies.

[kristie-rp]

Decay

Prompts: 1. Decay / 1. “It’s really not that complicated.”

Triggers: Murder, blood

There is a woman waiting on the corner, outside a building with fractured planks scattered beneath the doorway. She holds herself with her back straight, practicing casual confidence, or trying to. Her long dark hair whips around her shoulders in the wind, and her dress brushes the ground in sheathes of a shade of grey spun from moonlight when it rests. The rain is coming down hard, but despite the fact that she doesn’t carry an umbrella, she is completely dry.

She pulls her shawl around her shoulders, delicate handspun lace that does nothing to provide warmth; it has more use as a source of comfort than anything else. Bad things have happened here; she can sense it in the wind and the rain and the shadow of the townhouse. Her lips twist, and she wishes in the privacy of her mind that she might leave this place and never look back, and certainly never venture inside – but she is being paid to be here.

A wraith in black manifests from among the raindrops. She is dressed in the epitome of modern mourning fashion, a black gown heavy enough that even the gale force winds barely move it, and a veil over her eyes that flails wildly. She drops into a well practiced curtsey. “Miss O’Brien, how good of you to meet me. Have you no escort?”

The first woman – Miss Slyvie O’Brien – quirks a brow; she has never mastered the impassivity that ladies above her prefer. She still carries the casual flippancy of a lower class citizen, a peasant, however much she hates the word. She’s also part of the oncoming revolution, ground up – not that the lady who has hired her needs to know that. “Lady Constantine. Your concern is truly touching, but I assure you, I can protect myself well enough – and if not, well, I hardly deserve the title your cousin gifted me. But enough on me – why are you without escort?”

Lady Constantine – the older from the expansive set of siblings – stiffens. “My brothers would stop me if they knew I sought your services, and I can hardly go around with my fiancée.”

Syvlie cringes, because yes, that was in poor taste. She knows about the death of the late Simon Renner – as does everyone in the city. It’s the latest in a series of attacks that have been plaguing the city, and according to the rumours, it has been the most gruesome. More blood than the investigators and the police knew what to make of, and a body ripped apart. “Of course,” Sylvie says, “I opened the way. Mind your head.”

They have to duck beneath the plants left in the doorway in an entirely undignified manner; Lady Constantine struggles and flips her veil impatiently out of the way once they are inside. She carries an umbrella, but having to set it aside to gain entry has left her damp. Sylvie looks decidedly less harried once she’s inside, perhaps thanks to the charm hanging around her neck, or perhaps because she is simply dressed in a marginally less impractical manner, with a ragged skirt instead of layers upon layers of fabric. “His –” the woman starts, then clears her throat, “the murder occurred in the study.”

“Lead the way, m’lady,” Sylvie murmurs, deliberately going for subdued instead of her usual brash confidence. It won’t help here, won’t put the woman at ease. Just because she was willing to pay top dollar to convince a witch – Sylvie – to come to this cursed place and conjure an image no one really needs to see. But Rachael Constantine has been told no too many times lately, and she has decided that she wants the answers she believes this can find here.

The study is clearly a place where bad things have happened. Whatever is wrong here, this is where it seems to originate. Sylvie lifts two small crystal orbs from the satchel at the base of her corset and whispers a charm to them; soft violet light floods the room. She passes one to the bemused Lady Constantine, and uses the other to examine the room.

The study is clearly a place where bad things have happened; she does not need to see the boarded up window between the drapes to know that. There is a desk made of heavy mahogany, two leather chairs on one side of the desk; shelves and leather bound tomes flank the fireplace, mahogany carved and painted to create a unified look. None of these items have much history in its’ current form, but she can sense the age of the trees the wood must have come from, torn from a forest somewhere far out in the British territories, and she doesn’t touch the leather for fear of what may have happened if it were collected inhumanely. Near the fireplace is a sofa in more mahogany, with once cream fabric. Once, because it is spattered with enough blood that Sylvie doubts it is salvageable, and she grimaces at the rather morbid it paints. Lady Constantine holds the crystal limply as she stares at the blood, and no one in this city need be a telepath to guess at the thoughts hidden behind that tight attempt at a neutral expression.

“This is the place,” Lady Constantine says, completely unnecessarily.

Sylvie hesitates. “Are you absolutely certain you want me to do this? The memory will have decayed by now. Details will be lost, anyway – I cannot promise this will grant closure.”

Rachael is quiet for a long moment, before she finally meets Sylvie’s gaze. It’s a glare, there’s no other word for it; she is not impressed. “I am paying you to show me whatever memory this place holds. It cannot be worse than the things not knowing  the truth leaves me to imagine.” It sounds dismissive to Sylvie, who has seen memories of awful, awful things – these are the perks of dealing with a bizarre combination of conjuration, psychic and necromantic branches of magic – but before the witch can say or do anything to deter her, Lady Constantine lifts a  hand in a clear  preference for dismissal. “What does this require? Some of his essence? A memory? A sacrifice? There’s no shortage of blood, if that is needed, though it has dried.”

The witch blinks and shakes her head. “It’s really not that complicated,” she answers, returning to her satchel to remove a tiny vial. “Close your eyes,” she instructs. Rachael gives her a wary glance, but obeys, twisting her gloved hands – black lace, of course – and allows Sylvie to paint cyan liquid on her eyelids. “Keep them closed,” are the witches instructions, before the paints her own eyelids and, eyes closed, takes the lady’s hands in hers. What she chants cannot be expressed in writing, a half-forgotten language falling from her lips. “Now – open,” she orders, “and stay quiet.”

The memories of this room follow the rules of the conjuring compound Sylvie keeps a steady supply of – everything present in the memory takes on a cyan, slightly translucent quality, like a ghost painted in vivid blue. It starts with a stained glass window exploding inwards, towards them, through the curtains they have kept drawn. It’s an odd effect; Sylvie flinches. There is no shattering sound, and Sylvie notes that this is one of the things that have faded with the decay she warned of. Rachael doesn’t know, of course, that audio would be standard, and stands with her hands clasped in Sylvie’s staring with wide eyes as a ghostly woman tumbles in with the glass.

The woman is in terrible condition; Sylvie does not need to have experience in medicine to know that. She is very blue in the image they see, blue enough that to the experienced eye, it is clear she is very pale, and cannot have hair darker than the darkest blonde. Her face is damaged enough that Sylvie assumes she has been mauled, although her features are blurred as a consequence of the decay; she is wearing an exquisite gown – much nicer than Rachael’s mourning garb, and that is certainly not poorly made – that shows streams of a much darker shade around various tears. She believes the original gown is a dark crimson, but it is stained darker by the blood seeping from the womans’ wounds. Her arm is half torn off and a spectacular malformation of her torso leads Sylvie to suspect she has lost a large chunk of flesh somewhere, and adjusted her corset somehow to keep her insides in their proper place. It is a miracle that she is alive enough to drag the curtains closed behind her, to haul herself over and collapse on the couch. She is clearly, Sylvie thinks, something supernatural – not unlike herself, but not a witch, it seems.

The door to the study opens after some minutes pass, startling Sylvie and drawing Rachael’s attention. A man with pitch-dark hair and a beak of a nose in a narrow face is standing in the doorway, and as they watch, he mouths something. Well – says something that they cannot hear. Rachael breathes the word once she figures it out – a greeting, it seems – and Sylvie represses a desire to express her disbelief at his use of etiquette even in the face of an invasion.

“Hush,” Sylvie orders again, though it is fairly redundant given this memory is mute.

As they watch, the man heads to the desk and fusses for a time, producing, to Sylvie’s surprise, some bandages. Rachael sighs softly, fondly; clearly this is a part of her late fiancées personality, helping without question. There is no outcry in response to the shattered window, or concern that his home is being trespassed upon. Instead, he is quick to help, and crouches before the woman. Rachael flinches as his memory passes through them and kneels slightly to the side at their feet; they can, just barely, see his face. Rachael is transfixed, but Sylvie focuses instead on the unknown woman, the trespasser, waiting to see what happens. After all, it is a myth that vampires dissolve rather than leave a corpse, and the only body found in this room was male.

Simon Renner fusses over the woman for a long period. A servant comes; it seems he rang for them while at the desk, and he turns to say something Sylvie cannot make out, although Rachael mouths along. He bandages what he can, and hesitates to coax her from her corset. It is as he is bandaging the arm that things change: Sylvie has to look closely to figure out what has happened. The pins he had been using to lodge the bandage in place slipped, and he pricks himself.

The changes in the womans face are blurred, of course, and Sylvie, in her morbid fascination, resents the decay for making it even a little unclear. But – she’s seen the change before, the blood lust, and apparently, this woman has no control, because fangs slip out. Simon mouths something, and this time, Rachael hisses in alarm. “Vampire,” she whispers along with her fiancées memory. Sylvie winces, and she tightens her grip on the lady’s hands: if the woman released her now, the spell would break for her, and she would see nothing, none of the answers she craves.

The invader – the vampire – may be half dead, but the smell of blood brings her to life. She grips Simon’s hand tightly and bites at his wrist, tearing flesh in her haste. Sylvia wasn’t imagining the bloodshed before, but she is now, as the vampire gulps and gulps. Rachael makes a noise that the witch imagines is one of distress, as anyone would, forced to watch a vampire drain her loved one dry.

Except – except the vampire, much to Sylvia’s astonishment, doesn’t drain him dry.

She gets him to almost dead, to the point that their positions are reversed: the woman is supporting him. She breaks away with a small gasp, and pulls him onto the couch. She lays him down, and Rachael emits a sob, clearly torn from her against her will. Simon’s lips move, and Rachael repeats it aloud despite Sylvie’s direction, as if in a particularly cruel trance – “are you better now?” – before the vampire turns away. She goes to the desk, hands fluttering as she tears open drawers Sylvie cannot see from where she stands. It seems as though she is looking for bandages that haven’t been wasted on her, on someone who will heal after consuming even half of the blood she has lost.

It is clear that she doesn’t find more medical supplies, but she instead emerges with something shining in her hand. Sylvie blinks twice before she realizes it is a knife. It is not a particularly impressive thing; if anything, it is plain. It takes on the cyan tint so completely that Sylvie suspects it is made of silver, and to her eye it appears like an athame without the handle she is used to.

“No,” is what Rachael says – breathes, really.

The vampire walks closer, passes through them. Her back is to them as she kneels beside Simon, who is already close to death.

“Don’t do it,” Sylvie finds herself saying, despite her practice, and knowing it is completely pointless – that she does not have the power to change the past.

A pale hand reaches up to cup Simon’s face. Sylvie cannot see her face – if they moved, she could, but she does not want to break the spell – but she imagines it is pity and reluctance there. She stops to say something, and she sees Simon’s lips move again. Knowing what she does of her clients’ fiancée, she imagines it is likely an exhausted assurance that there are no problems here, that this is completely fine.

It isn’t fine, of course, not by any stretch of the imagination. Sylvie and Rachael watch in transfixed horror, spellbound as the vampire lifts the knife she has found, and rests the tip against his chest, over his heart. She pauses, likely to say something else they cannot hear, before she drives the tip through and into his heart.

He must not live long, after that, but they do not watch. Rachael rips her hands from Sylvie and breaks the spell, whipping around and clasping her hands over her mouth. She refuses to look at the couch, and she lets Sylvie guide her out of the room, sealing the door against the cyan vision behind them.

I warned you, the witch is tempted to say. Only the knowledge that it rarely helps stays her hand. “The decay removed the sound,” she explains quietly. “I’m sorry. I assume you wanted to hear his voice – I know some people find that reassuring, even among the misery of it.”

“I’m fine,” Rachael protests. It’s not particularly convincing, considering there are tears running down her face, and she is trembling with the effort of not breaking down completely. The lady’s face is very white, and although Sylvie holds no real affection for the woman, she feels immense sorrow now. There are some things a person should never have to see, and that – what they just saw – is one of them. “Thank you for your assistance. The remainder of your payment will be delivered post haste.”

Sylvie hesitates for a long moment, considering, and makes the executive decision that this lady does not need her reassurance. Still – she will not leave her alone, not for the moment, and instead retrieves the lady’s umbrella from where it was left near the entrance door. She cannot comfort a stranger, but she can keep her company, and she resolves to do that for as long as it takes.

[thekoreanlass]

I’m not really a big fan of C-dramas or Meteor Garden, but who will forget this phenomenal drama that started from a Japanese manga until it became a TV series that probably has the most remakes? Taiwanese, Korean, Indonesian, and now a Chinese remake!

The Meteor Garden fever has surely converted people of all ages into fans, not just of the drama but the fictional popular quartet F4! Who would forget Dao Ming Si, Hua Ze Lei, Mei Zuo, and Xi Men? The original boys brought us wonderful songs that most 90-ish kids would still remember and sing along to, which would definitely lead us back to memories of the Taiwanese version’s immense popularity.

At that time, I remember myself still being a kid, who willingly followed her older sister’s every whim and recorded every single episode on a tape recorder for her. Those were the dark times that I totally got sick of being in front of the television and the drama, but gladly Vic Zhou was there to grace me with his presence. I so loved Hua Ze Lei as a kid. He was my ultimate crush, that was probably why I started crushing on Yoon Jihoo as soon as the Korean remake took over a few years later.

More than that blast from the past feeling though, the hottest topic this 2018 is the comeback the drama is making through the Chinese remake, starring this generation’s most beautiful faces, Shen Yue (Dong Shan Cai), Dylan Wang (Dao Ming Si), Darren Chen (Hua Ze Lei), Connor Leong (Feng Mei Zuo) and Caesar Wu (Xi Men Yan).

Shen Yue feels very familiar to me after her ‘A Love So Beautiful’ drama aired in my country and boosted in popularity. The boys, however, are all new faces to me but I must say the moment I saw them I really felt good to see that they are taking over the F4 role. Maybe because they all just look so handsome and charming that their face value already makes the cut.

Anyway, I’ve been rambling about the randomest things, but that’s just because I feel excited to talk about the 2018 version after just watching it. I’m up to episode 6 of the drama, so I shall share my first impression about what happened from the beginning to that point.

Here goes nothing!

Catchy Start

What caught my attention when I started episode 1 is how it opened the story with Shan Cai asking ‘Have you ever wondered what will happen to you in the future?’ and concluding how her 18 year old self never thought something like that will happen to her while a scene of her throwing a strong flying kick to Dao Ming Si’s face plays in slow motion.

I think that, that flying kick on the face totally brings a huge head start to the drama, causing for curiosity to uproot as they left what happened a mystery and began the generic introduction of characters. Shan Cai being the ordinary girl who will luckily land the role of heroine in one hell of a rollercoaster ride. And there was also–lo and behold–the notorious F4, who seems even more perfectly described in this version (a really much improved background than their earlier versions!) that it is too good to be true. To fictitious, to say.

Nonetheless, the start of the drama really managed to grab my attention, so I’m giving them a perfect score for that.

Same but Different

So, we get the same thing but maybe with a Chinese twist to it? I’m not sure whether it’s because they want it to be different from its past versions, but this one definitely has a very unique taste to it.

They changed a lot of things like:

Shan Cai’s family background – The original Meteor Garden and even Boys Over Flowers portrayed her as someone coming from a poor family that barely made a living. Here, Shan Cai at least came from an average family with a mom that cooks and gets money from delivering takeouts and has a father that works as a bank manager (I think they said that was his job).

In the previous versions too, her parents look really pathetic to me. I mean, the father and mother were both selling off their daughter to Dao Ming Si / Gu Jun Pyo. But at least, the mother in the Chinese version is not that loud and annoying and although she still dotes on Dao Ming Si so much that she can sell Shan Cai out to him, at least, her father is there to become the buffer that stops her antics.

An even more perfect F4 – If that’s even possible! So, I know it’s kind of cliche now that the poor girl falls in love with the rich guy. It’s a common trope among dramas, but of course we don’t get tired of the rich and handsome guys of F4! As in never get tired of them!

And to make it much better–or worse? but that’s up to you–the drama made these four flower boys even more desirable bachelors. You’ll easily know about how different and better they are right from the first episode when a random Junior walks up to Shan Cai, Qing He and Li Zhen and tells them about the popular F4.

Dao Ming Si may be the forever pineapple haired guy (his hairstyle gets even better too!), but he’s now finally equipped with the knowledge of being able to speak three or four languages and a talent for business. The old Dao Ming Si can’t even get a quote right, which was really funny back then. He was handsome and rich, but not so smart. But now he can just be everything, well except for the short temper and his anger management problems plus obsession for Shan Cai.

Hua Ze Lei used to be just quiet and snobbish like a cold prince in the older versions, but this drama made it so that they could explain his introverted behavior as related from the slight autism he had when he was a kid and is supposedly cured by the great Teng Tang Jing. Can you even cure autism? I made my own research and gladly they said a minority portion of those people with autism get cured depending on the severity of their autism and the therapies they go through over the years, but its still debatable. However, giving this drama the benefit of the doubt, this is fiction. I’m not gotta criticize it for not knowing any better. For sure, they know what they are doing.

Mei Zuo and Xi Men – so they’re like the third in command in all the versions if you ask me. I’m pretty sure, in terms of appearance, they are of equal importance. Two obnoxious, overprotective friends with a tendency to womanize. I see women hanging around them everywhere, but that’s their role. It’s the casanovas that are more interesting to watch. However, like I said they are the ‘much improved’ versions: wherein Mei Zuo has an impeccable memory that they can never lose in the card game ‘Bridge’ and Xi Men has a liking for tea, due to his family background.

I’m not sure if this is going to sound nicer and may help them look smarter, but I think this version of F4 is the milder, much civilized guys. I mean, they don’t bully someone so randomly out of the blue and make their lives a living hell. Instead, as it was explained, they are so good at the card game ‘Bridge’ (that they even have a club for that!) that many people want to challenge them and to stop anyone from just randomly challenging them, they set an odd rule that you need to first receive the ‘Joker’ card as an invitation for a Bridge match.

That doesn’t sound like much what would bad boys do, right? It would have been nicer if they stuck to the original, but I guess this isn’t so bad either. At least, if they challenge somebody it would make much more sense. Plus, they look really cool playing that game.

Hello ‘Joker’! – So, bye bye to that red card that Dao Ming Si used to send his victims and say ‘hello’ to the less threatening ‘Joker’ card in your locker. Prepare to lose in the game of Bridge with F4 and eat some slippers as the consequence!

At least, it’s befitting for them to use the card, though, right?

College and Milk Tea – I get it every version of Shan Cai is different that’s why she’s a freshman in the Nutrition course here and she works part time at a milk tea shop called ‘Talented’ with Xiao Yu.

 Fights and Reconciliations – Well, I remember Li Zhen–Shan Cai’s newfound friend–also liking Dao Ming Si in the past and because she’s jealous of Shan Cai she intentionally sets her up so that she looks like she slept with someone she met at a club.

The same friend betrays her in this version, but her reason is sort of different and somehow ‘coincidental’ and Shan Cai ends up forgiving her because she’s just that kind of person and Dao Ming Si can never have a say about it or kick her out of university since he doesn’t own it. But at least, all is well. And to be honest, I like how things ended up well between these two friends in this version, since the problem arose from something trivial and it’s just unreasonable for someone to drop out because they were being bullied for some petty reason, right?

Meteor Garden 2018 gets you hooked by these positive changes and makes the drama a bit lighter than its older versions that are leaning more on its dramatic quotient.

However, on another note, I must admit that Shan Cai didn’t experience as much hardship as the old Shan Cai did. Dao Ming Si bullies her in the most childish sense, plotting childish jokes that you can’t call disturbing. I guess, because he’s been sheltered for long enough and didn’t grow up dating girls left and right, that he is having a hard time expressing himself to her and with his very impatient personality makes him extremely possessive of her.

The lack of emotional turmoil boxes the potential of each of them to do even better in portraying their role, however.

So, in a nutshell, Meteor Garden looks totally brand new with the many additions, but still has more room to improve with the acting. Not saying, they aren’t good, but there got to be something more with that actor or actress. So, I’m looking forward to improvement until it’s 48th episode!

Fast Pacing

Is it just me or this drama is moving too quickly that I’m getting worried what more will they show in the next 44 to 48 episodes?

Not that I am complaining about the quick pacing, it’s just that maybe I am not used to it. The Taiwanese version really had a slow, agonizing pace that I would not really stick to it until the end if I had to do a marathon, while this one was just like leafing through pages in a book while only skimming it very briefly, which I think is good but pretty worrisome. Not unless they have more to show that won’t be dragging and not just a filler, then I guess the pacing should be fine.

Total Flower Boys

I can definitely say that this version totally left me drooling at the boys. All of them are really good looking you can’t say they’re a waste. They do have their different charms that set them apart from each other, but in total all of them are likable eye-candies!

I used to be a solid Hua Ze Lei kind of girl, but after watching Dylan Wang portray Dao Ming Si, I can’t help but fawn over the boy. He just fits the prickly, childish and short-tempered rich boy role that’s not too rough but not kind looking either. At some points, he’s cute and surprisingly I don’t despise him for childishly annoying Shan Cai.

The Strong-willed Wild Flower that often bends

You can say that Shan Cai is that heroine who doesn’t easily back down from a challenge. She’s always been stubborn and antagonizing, especially towards Dao Ming Si. She’s been consistent in this love-hate relationship they have that sometimes it’s hard to believe how they ended up together.

But I must say I sometimes feel anxious about Shen Yue’s version of Shan Cai. She’s a good actress and its nice she can easily tear up when an emotional scene comes up, but why do I feel like this Shan Cai is being more fickle now than before? She’s fickle that I find it annoying she lets Dao Ming Si kiss her without a fight even when she likes Hua Ze Lei. I think she sounds more like a pushover or a very easy person, especially when she lets Hua Ze Lei kiss her after just seeing him kiss another girl without any second thoughts and while bringing her along with him at the beach.

A Real Douche

Excuse me for my opinion, but now that I’ve watched this version, I can’t help but think Hua Ze Lei is the real douche here and not Dao Ming Si, who did nothing but devotedly love Dong Shan Cai, I mean, Lei may appear like a cool guy because he’s quiet and introverted and he doesn’t look like he can play any tricks at girls, but the thing is he keeps stringing Shan Cai along–even kissing her cheek without any proper reason and even if he didn’t like her back then when he did it–even if he likes Jing. He even follows her to Paris and lives with her, but just because she doesn’t make time for him and he’s not man enough to be able to save their relationship, that he leaves and shakes up Dao Ming Si and Shan Cai’s blossoming love-hate relationship.

Well, I’m not saying he’s bad, but still for sure no one wants to be the second option when it comes to the person you like. No matter what, a girl needs to have some self-respect and can’t treat herself unjustly by having false hopes that one day this stupid guy will look at you. And Lei shouldn’t be that guy that gives her false hopes just because he knew she likes her and then only goes back to her after realizing Jing doesn’t need him. That’s just plain stupid. Like seriously. I’d rather pick the person who genuinely likes me more and not the person who will only give me the second place. You won’t be truly happy with someone who only puts you second in his life.

Romance

It’s still so complicated like before that it’s unbelievable. I can’t say that there will be such romance in reality, but nonetheless, I totally feel like the chemistry between Dylan Wang and Shen Yue is like second nature to them that you may find them rather unarguably cute together and suited for each other. Together, they make my heart really flutter like a teenager and grin like an idiot nonstop.

Over all

Surprisingly, I think I am being won over by this drama to another level after watching its first few episodes. Of course, I  had  my own doubts upon hearing another remake is on its way, but with some leap of faith that it wouldn’t just be some cheap drama remake, I think that it’s worth the wait and the time I invested on watching it.

I can’t say that it surpassed the other versions, because they all have their different charms. But I can probably say that Meteor Garden 2018 managed to surpass itself.  With its impeccable cast and the awesome production and directing, it surpassed expectations of most Meteor Garden fans.

Plus, add the fact that its very lighthearted in its element compared to the past versions and really much cuter that it must attract, too, the younger audience.

I will not dwell with the fact, though, that it’s pretty long for 40+ episodes times 40 minutes worth of TV viewing per episode and will just enjoy the flow of things while it can entertain me so I wouldn’t overthink about its length being a disadvantage at this time. Maybe they can use it to their advantage too, but who knows? Only time will tell.

Nonetheless, I will recommend this to anybody who just simply loves Meteor Garden at any day. You should try it if you’re up for another Meteor Garden fever and be charmed by the eternal F4!

I will rate this drama 4.7 out of 5 for surprising me and getting me hooked!

See you later for my On going and Final review for this drama in the future!

  First Impression: Meteor Garden (2018) I'm not really a big fan of C-dramas or Meteor Garden, but who will forget this phenomenal drama that started from a Japanese manga until it became a TV series that probably has the most remakes?

[juniorformulamotorsport]

Friday September 29th – Day 7, Trier

We’d promised ourselves a second day in Trier, and having discovered that there were some interesting events going on on Friday we figured that would be the best day to do it on. Instead of heading out on the riverside road, we opted to take the quick route along the autobahn, a process that took less than half an hour. We managed to park up by the Electoral Palace, and then started working our way through the items left on our Antiken Cards, which meant three more Roman sites, starting with the Imperial baths complex at the other end of the park where the palace is located, the gardens themselves looking very lovely in the late summer sunshine.

A short walk took us to the baths, where there were again very few tourists, and quite a lot of the site was behind scaffolding. We went in, sat and watched a short film that showed the development of Trier in the Roman period, and then we wandered around the site. There’s a brick tower that has been built on one corner, which provides a great overview of the complex. The baths themselves are most impressive. It covers a massive area, and even scaffolded over you can see how impressive it must have been.

The baths themselves are well preserved at one end because the walls were used in the middle ages as part of a small castle, which meant they weren’t quarried out. Between the Alderburg castle, and two churches also built into the walls of the caldarium, it wasn’t until after World War II that the later additions would be cleared away and the extent of the Roman remains would become apparent, with extensive excavation work taking place from 1960 to 1966. Needless to say it’s still being worked on, mostly with a view to preservation of the ruins now.

Underneath the visible structures, there is a rabbit warren of tunnels used by the service staff to keep the baths running and you can get seriously lost down there between all the different levels and the various corners you can end up turning.

When we’d done in the baths, we decided it was too hot to go straight to the next attraction. A cold drink at the museum cafe, which also borders on the Electoral Palace gardens, was essential.

Our next stop was at the recently reopened Treasury of the Trier City Research Library, which holds a splendid collection of fabulous rare books, including the Codex Egberti, , the Ada Evangeliary with its stunning (though much later) 15th Century cover, and the Trier Apocalypse. There is also a selection of printed works including a Gutenberg Bible, original manuscripts of Nicolas of Cusa, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, and Karl Marx. It’s basically a bibliophile’s idea of heaven, and the Hundred Highlights exhibition is well worth a visit. As is explained in one of the handouts: “The Trier city library traces its origins back to the year 1804. It can be seen as a by-product of the French revolution. Towards the end of the 18th century the city of Trier fell to the French, together with wide swathes of territory on the left of the Rhine. Secularization led to the dissolution of many monasteries and collegiate churches. Parts of the ancient libraries were scattered, parts came to Trier. The city library which was being formed here became a gigantic catchment basin for the book treasures of the region which had become ownerless. With around 3.000 manuscripts and the same number of printed items, the city library of Trier is now one of the most important in all of Germany.” I am very glad it exists. Needless to say, photography is not permitted for fear of damage to the exhibits, so here’s a photo from the library’s website.

I cannot understand why the place was completely empty on a Friday afternoon, but Lynne and I thoroughly enjoyed it, and I left with a copy of the catalogue so I can continue to enjoy it later.  It was stunning stuff and it made me very happy.

Next we walked to the Barbara baths, which is another fine collection of Roman building remains, on a slightly smaller scale than the Imperial baths (at least what can be seen of them). They were built in the second century, used as a castle in the Middle Ages, and finally used for building materials, including a Jesuit college. The site shows off the foundations and more service tunnels, with the general heating and sewerage systems plain to see. We weren’t alone there; there must have been three other people there, and again you have to wonder why it’s so quiet. This is fascinating stuff and it ought to be rammed with tourists.

Our next stop was the Roman bridge which spans the Moselle to this day. Needless to say the top layer, over which the road goes, has been replaced more than once, but the 2nd century pillars remain, and they do appear to be doing a proper solid job.

We walked back into town and settled in for a much-needed beer at the improbably named Astarix and Miss Marple‘s cafe. It was just what was required there and then.

We were just opposite the theatre where they were readying for the premier of their latest production, “Die Dreigroschen Oper” which seemed to involve lorries failing to park up properly. It was also just across from the massive World War II bunker.

Our next destination was the final set of Roman baths, the Forum baths. We tried to sort out using our Antiken Card but were waved in anyway, unfortunately without being given any information, and then couldn’t get too close to anything as there was an event in full flow, the 2017 Trier University Nacht der Wissenschaft, or the Long Night of Knowledge, and they were all busy setting out their stalls as part of the European Researchers’ Night, which was taking place across 260 European cities.

We gave up on that and headed over to the Basilica, only to find it was shut. This was a shame as I’d really wanted to see the interior of the Aula Palatina, but it was not to be, at least not on this trip.  The outside is pretty impressive though, so we’ll just have to try again another time.

After a bit of toing and froing caused by a lack of sensible maps, we found our way to the Church of Our Lady, the oldest Gothic church in Germany, built in the 13th century. It replaced a Roman church on the site and it’s utterly gorgeous. It’s a church-in-the-round built in such a way that the floor plan resembles a twelve-petaled rosa mystica, and, as we found out, the twelve articles of the Apostle’s Creed are painted on twelve supporting columns, which can be seen completely from a single spot which is marked by a black stone. It’s a brilliant Gothic masterpiece and breathtakingly beautiful.

Right next door to it is the cathedral which is also magnificent, in what can only be described as Baroque insanity mode. From the outside, however, it’s not at all Baroque, with lots of much earlier brickwork, including the Roman foundations which can be clearly seen.

Inside, it’s wildly ornate, with some very fancy features, most of which are far more recent than the Roman foundations.

The original church was built, after Emperor Constantine converted to Christianity, adn what resulted, under the supervision of Bishop Maximin of Trier (329-346), was one of the grandest ecclesiastical structures in the West. The first set of buildings was four times time size of the present cathedral and included four basilicas, a baptistery and outbuildings.

The fourth-century structure was destroyed by the Franks, who then rebuilt it, and was again destroyed by the Norsemen in 882, with the last restoration done at the behest of Archbishop Egbert (d. 993). He clearly knew a good building plan when he saw it and there is plenty even now for visitors to nose around. The cloister garden is lovely too.

It was getting close to closing time, and so we wandered out before they threw us out, finding our way across the road where we sat with a glass of wine each and some ham and cheese to stave off starvation!

A brief study of my phone told us there was a promising restaurant just behind us. Further investigation revealed that they were closed for a private event, and so we had to search a little further. The mapping software on my iPhone proved less than useless but we eventually located the rather old-fashioned but charming Brasserie, an old-style restaurant in the heart of the historic town.

We settled in, studied the menu, and decided that this would do just fine. It would have been nicer without the nuisance child on the next table, who seemed to be allowed to run riot, crawling around on the floor, getting in the way of the waiting staff, but everything else was good. A glass of sekt helped us ignore the antics of the child altogether.

An offering of bread was soon on the table as we waited for our starters.

A portion of beef was up first and very solidly good it was too.

It was also big, as were the mains. There was a rabbit dish, the leg served on noodles, with “lots of sauce”, sugar snap peas, and carrots. It was very much comfort food, and delicious. It was also very filling.

The other dish we tried was the spaghetti “Ragout”, which was served with a venison ragout, a load of fried wild mushrooms (mostly chanterelles), Parmesan flakes, and a salad, which proved to be a dish too far in terms of trying to get through what we’d been presented with.

That was us done, even though along with the bill we were given a fluffy little chunk of poppy seed cake. It was good, but we couldn’t eat another thing.

We left the restaurant around 9pm, and headed off to take a look at the Trier Illuminale, the motto of which seems to be the very punny Wissen-Schaft-Licht which roughly speaking translates as Knowledge Produces Illumination but is also a pun on the German word for scientific (wissenschaftlich).

It wasn’t easy to find due to the annoying phone software yet again, but find it we did and took a slightly bemused wander around, enjoying the lighting effects, but not the unseasonable heat which was still higher than you’d expect for a late September night.

While it was all very interesting it was rather too busy for someone who doesn’t like crowded places, so we didn’t stay too long.

It took us a while to find our way back to the car park, but once there we were soon on our way. We made it back home in under 30 minutes, arriving well after 10pm only to find it was still very hot (around 19C) and the vineyard workers were still working down the street on our return.

Travel 2017 – Moselle Road Trip, Day 7 Friday September 29th - Day 7, Trier We'd promised ourselves a second day in Trier, and having discovered that there were some interesting events going on on Friday we figured that would be the best day to do it on.

[aaronbhope84]

New Architrave & A Skinny French Door!

We're so fortunate to have the original doors (albeit it with some of them boarded up!) and architrave throughout almost all of the house. But, the exclusion is our kitchen. The room itself is an addition to the house, although a very very very old one and possibly still even Victorian. There's evidence of its age in the brickwork - the fact we can tell it once upon a time had lath and plaster ceilings and even the door frame for the back door has evidence of an old mortice lock. But other than these little hints to the past, there's no period features remaining.

We really want consistent features throughout the house - there's nothing worse than a different style of architrave and skirting in every other room! And since we've opened up the wall between the kitchen and dining room, it's even more important that they match in the same period style. It's a little too early for skirting board in this room, but tackling the very non-period window and door, was something we could get right on with... And more to the point, it really needed it.

Pretty right? I mean, the window doesn't actually have any architrave, it's more of a pencil-thin beading around the edge which isn't doing it any favours whatsoever. It's already an ugly 50s style single-glazed unit - it needed at least something more around it to spruce it up, amiright? As for the door - Well it might have some architrave, but it's also very thin and most definitely lacking that Victorian grandure charm. Not to mention the fact that the wall above the architrave appeared to have been plastered so many times that the top section of architrave is now fully sunken into the plaster and looks as though it's promptly about to be engulfed. Not a good look. Oh and yes, the door is what would have once been an external back door, before someone stuck a dodgy lean-to conservatory on the side... So, needless to say - we needed to do something here! The window sadly has to stay - it's just not in our budget to replace it and I don't actually think it needs replacing anyway. Whilst it is single-glazed, it's not an external window and we don't really loose too much heat through it. But the door just feels as though you should be walking into the garden through it - not another room! As much as I quite liked it (call me a weirdo!) I knew it had to go. It also cut half the room off when it was open, just not practical at all.

So instead we'll be swapping the door for some period-sympathetic internal skinny french doors. They'll let heaps of light through, connect the conservatory and kitchen better, AND when the doors are open, they wont cut off the view of the kitchen. Win, win! And what's more - I managed to bag a bargain off eBay for just £25! But we'll come back to that later. We'll also be updating the architrave for something much wider/grand and in a style that matches the rest of the house and its period charm. So obviously the first job was to remove everything; the old architrave, beading, locks and also the plaster. A sunken architrave just wasn't the look I was going for (does anyone want their walls to look like quicksand?) and there wasn't any other way around it. I used my trusty muti-tool to carefully cut away the architrave from the frames and then used a crowbar to pull it off. Grant also carefully removed the old lock, freeing the screws from a bazillion layers of paint.

As we removed the many layers of quicksand.. Sorry, I mean plaster - we also discovered a rather large crack in the brickwork above the door. Which I guess at least explained why it had been plastered so many times. Luckily the two lintels above and below the crack had no signs of damage in them at all, so I simply removed all the loose bricks and re-bricked it all back up. I say the words simply, in truth it took me weeks to get my arse into gear and do this. I always have some unrealistic fear of the house falling down whenever we come across stuff like this and it clicks off an overwhelming feeling of reluctance in my brain. But once it was done (in the space of 30minutes!) it was so silly to have been putting it off.

In fairness though, who knew putting up some architrave would result in having to remove a load of plaster and re-bricking a wall? That's the thing about old houses, they're just full of surprises! (she says through gritted teeth) We then decided to add the architrave around the door before plastering. I know that sounds so stupid and backwards but we had a good reason for this. Despite thinking the many layers of plaster was to blame for the sunken architrave - it also turned out that the door frame was a bit twisted as well. By that I mean, the frame was lower than the bricks on one side and on another side, the frame was much higher. Short of building the frame out on one side (and then having a the door appear more recessed, on one side only) we had to kind of accept that the architrave was going to have to be sunken into the architrave just a little bit. And plastering up to the architrave was (we felt) much easier than trying to fill-in the gap for it later on. Or trying to fit it over imperfect plastering (which it would be - as we're doing it ourselves!). Am I making any sense? The architrave we're using is called "Profile 2" from Skirting World It's a pretty exact match to the existing architrave in some of the other rooms in our house, only it's just a little sharper and more defined in its cut. Perhaps this is because it's not covered in a million layers of paint though? It's actually an MDF architrave - which we'd never used before either, but holy moly I'm converted. We've always used pine in the past and I've never purchased a pack of skirting or architrave that hasn't been warped or twisted in some way. And quite frankly, twisted/warped wood is a nightmare to fit. I've always steered clear of MDF, just because it usually costs a tad more (and I'm a tight scrooge!). BUT it's SO much easier to fit and I also think the finish is so much nicer too. And it doesn't even have any wooden knots to contend with - I was seriously impressed! Here's what the moulding of Profile 2 looks like from the side...

We also splashed out and purchased an actual mitre saw for this job as well - we've always used a handsaw with mitre box in the past - but after having done so many rooms (and still the skirting boards and many more rooms to go!) it just kind of made sense to start investing in proper tools. And I'm so pleased we did! It's bloomin' amazing; exact cuts, every time! Seriously if you're on the fence about getting one, just do it!

There's a few different methods for fixing architrave to a frame - but we opted for just nailing it in without the use of any glue. Because we haven't plastered yet, we didn't want to commit to glue, just in-case we needed to take it back off for whatever reason. (turned out we didn't need to - but there ya go!) When using nails, you want to make sure you nail it into the architrave at a point where the nail will be easy to conceal later on - usually that's in a recessed part of the moulding. You'll also need a nail punch kit which allows you to fully sink the nail into the architrave where using a hammer alone otherwise wouldn't.

Even after just a coat of browning plaster, things were already looking much better - I love how crisp the architrave looks!

The next job was to fit our secondhand-sourced skinny french doors! Considering this opening is a non-standard door size (Victorian door frames are always so much wider than ones nowadays) we were so very lucky to find a secondhand skinny french door that would fit (well almost fit!). Not only are there very few and far between listings for skinny french doors, but finding the right size, for the right price AND in a drive-able distance - well, it was like it was just meant to be! The sellers even said they'd originally had the door made for the door frame of a conservatory. I mean, seriously - did fate ever get more real? Here's the old door getting removed...

So although I say the door was the right size, it was actually around 4mm too big widthways. But this was perfectly easy to shave off with the help of a planer (another new purchase - we're on a money spending mission here!). I'd never used an electric planer before - and I have to say, I'm not sure I've quite got the technique down just yet.. But after a few practise sessions, it worked out okay. We also had to plane a little off the corner of one door, because our the door frame wasn't quite square. Definitely not ideal, but we're talking mm's here and once the doors were hung you really can't tell at all. Grant then chiselled out sections of the door and frame for the new hinges. We're using some lovely Satin Nickel ones I'd also picked up from eBay!

We also purchased some new glazing panels for the door as one of them sadly had a crack in it. Despite one being fine, we decided to replace both, just to make sure they definitely matched in clarity and neither had a slight differing tinge to it. We opted Laminated glazing, so that should it ever break, (violent door slamming kids of the future, perhaps!) it'll do so safely. The cost of the glazing actually cost more than the cost of the door at £42 - but that was still half the price of some other companies we had quotes from! We purchased the glazing from City Glass in Lincoln who cut it pretty much the next morning. Fab service & fab price! Grant then secured it with some beading (also purchased with the door) and nails, using the nail punch again to sink them right in. I think the door looks brilliant - as if it was always there. The wood's a little scuffed up in places, but I think that adds to the charm and makes it look old and characterful and not entirely like a brand new modern set of doors.

It already looks good right? But I wanted to wait until the plastering/painting had been done to fully show these off in their full glory! - And the window too, which hasn't yet had it's feature. There's still painting, filling in the nail holes and of course, fitting door handles left to do. But, here's the progress so far...

I'm not one to gloat, but c'mon - HOW much better does the window and door look now?! It makes the room feel so much less like an outbuilding. The door has so much charm - I freaking love the exposed wood finish, although it could probably do with a wax finish over it. It also lets in so much more light, and coupled with the new period architrave - it looks like it was just always there. I think it looks amazing already. It almost feels like home! Sneak peak at our new tiles too! What do you reckon - an improvement? Have you tried MDF architrave and been converted too?

Costs

(rounded to the nearest pound) New Tools Purchased: Electric Planer £50 Mitre Saw £100 Nail Punch £7 Chisels £7 Materials Used: Mortar - free from previous jobs Skinny French Door £25 Laminated Glass £42 Nails £3 Hinges £5 Architrave - kindly provided by Skirting World

Total: £239

*Architrave was kindly provided by Skirting World in return for this post. All reviews and opinions are my own. Thanks for supporting the brands that support this blog!

from Home Restoration News http://www.kezzabeth.co.uk/2017/03/new-architrave-skinny-french-door.html