#I LOVE pooh bear like SO MUCH (special interest!) so that should say everything

[mahouknightdrabunwolfcat]

Whoever fucking does this in newer reboot shows or whatever. STOP IT. You’re hurting them. Their eyes aren’t meant to look like that, they’re being malnourished.

[lokidiabolus]

Offline Age - Chapter 2

Fandom: Dragon Age Origins

Pairing: Alistair Theirin x Elissa Cousland

Summary:   Alistair was never really a lone wolf or anything, but having a place only for himself had its appeal. He didn’t plan on taking responsibility for anybody in upcoming years, until one fateful night his doorbell decided to wake him up at 2 AM and show him he was so, so wrong.

OR

How Alistair subconsciously harbored mother hen tendencies towards completely unknown person in five minutes and then fell in love so hard it almost broke all bones in his body.

Warnings: Slow Burn, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Tons of overused tropes, Prequel to Online Age

Can be found on Ao3.

Elissa had very little personal belongings to begin with, it made Alistair concerned. His amount of clothes exceeded hers (not to mention lots of her shirts stayed in the flat, soaking the water) and he considered himself fairly uninterested in clothes shopping. It was like she bagpacked into Redcliffe instead of moving in and quite frankly her bag actually looked that way (kind of dirty and battered). She didn’t even have a bed in her flat, she slept on raggedy sofa previous tenants left there and Alistair had so many questions he had no idea where to start.

“I guess you don’t really need a tour in here,” he commented when she entered his home, stopped in the living room and looked around. They had the same layout of the flat but Alistair had to admit his was much more furnished, which definitely raised even more questions.

“I’m good, thanks,” she replied without moving from the spot. She still held the bag and the suitcase and Alistair watched her with worry, because this looked like a speedily approaching meltdown if he ever saw one. He approached her cautiously and when no reaction came, he tugged on her bag and it easily slid off her shoulder to his hand, so he could put it on the floor. He repeated the same thing with the suitcase, leaving her just standing there, looking lost.

“You okay?” he tried. Her eyes had that distant look in them, like she was lost in thought. “Elissa?”

“Huh?” she snapped out of it, blinked few times, and then slowly nodded. “Yeah, sure. Sorry, spaced out.”

“Wanna catch some zees?” he pointed towards the bedroom. The clock showed something past four and if she didn’t sleep either, she must have been exhausted. He knew he was. “You can use the bedroom-,”

“I’ll take the couch,” she interrupted him quickly. “Thanks.”

He had no time to actually say anything else, since she flopped on the sofa like a sack of potatoes and was out cold in three seconds.

“Sure,” he mumbled in aftermath, grabbed the blanket from the armchair and put it over her. He had a feeling she was so far the strangest thing he had ever picked up.

***

He woke up to silence. It was strange how his brain thought it must have been a mistake when up until today there was nothing else but silence every day, but somehow the unusual quiet was wrong, he just couldn’t point a finger on the reason why. He tossed around in the bed for a while, and then reached for the alarm clock to check the time.

Half past seven. Not that bad.

His stomach was rumbling and his head hurt a little when he was crawling from under covers, and when he entered the living room, the why is it so silent hit him in full force. Elissa was sitting in the corner of the couch, awake, and with a notepad on her lap on which she was scribbling something. The blanket was twisted around her legs and waist to keep her warm and her hair was loose from the bun, falling down her face and over her shoulders. Everything else was completely silent, only the pencil movement over the paper made a slight noise.

“Oh, you’re up,” she glanced at him from under long eyelashes and then focused back on the paper. “Thanks for the blanket.”

“No problem,” he shrugged, his mind slowly fitting her into his life like a slot in Tetris. She still weirdly stuck out, but hey, he only knew her for a day – not even that actually. “Feeling any better?”

“Well, at least not like passing out anymore,” she smiled into the scribble, or whatever she was creating there. “I guess we both needed to sleep a bit, huh.”

“Well, I normally don’t hear my bed calling my name so loudly, so I’d say so,” he agreed and walked through the flat until he reached her unpacked bag again. He stared at it for a while, taking in the holes and obvious over usage, and then tilted his head to the side. “So what’s your story?”

“My flat got flooded,” she answered flatly. “It was pretty bad, you know.”

“Wow, really,” he left the bag alone – bad topic, obviously – and continued towards the fridge to feed himself. “Flooding is the worst, isn’t it.”

“Can totally ruin your day. And home.”

The fridge was basically empty, and it shouldn’t have surprised him. He wasn’t grocery shopping for at least two weeks now, basically living on take outs or food he grabbed on the way to or from work, and at this moment he hated his past self so much.

“Chinese it is,” he turned around to find his phone and when he reached the middle of the living room, he couldn’t help but try to fit Elissa sitting curled up on the couch into his life again.

“What?” she raised her head, staring back at him, and then made a face. “Wait. What’s your name again?”

“Again?” he made a face back at her. “How rude.”

“Should I call you Theirin then?” she shot back and the cringe that passed Alistair’s face must have looked pretty out of place. Wait, how did she even know his last name?

“You mean you know my last name but not my first name?” he crossed arms on his chest. “That’s it. We are breaking up.”

The eye roll didn’t come as a surprise. He got lots of those during his life.

“Was on your doorbell,” she gestured vaguely towards the main door to the flat. “Not my fault you didn’t put your whole name on it.”

“Not enough space,” he offered and when she still looked expectant, he lay off the jokes for the moment. “Fine, fair point. It’s Alistair.”

“Alistair,” she repeated thoughtfully. “Kind of a knightly name.”

“I wanted to be a Templar when I was a kid but my nanny didn’t approve, said math comes first,” he sighed dramatically and continued to his bedroom for the phone. “I still feel like it would serve me well. I was never big on studying, but hitting people over the head could have been my true calling.”

“I can tell,” she smirked when he reappeared in the room. “Brawns over brains, hm.”

“Ouch.”

“It’s fine, we all excel in something,” she told him sweetly and returned back to her scribbling. Alistair thought of a retort, but nothing came, so he left her victorious for now, just made a mental note to get back to it later with revenge.

“Going to order take out,” he announced instead while searching for the right number in his contacts. He should have put it in his favourites; they already knew him by his name there. “You want something?”

“Which take out?” It caught her interest. He wondered if she even ate today with all that happened to her or if she fussed around the flat the whole time. It would make sense if she did.

“Chinese.” Her eyes lit up, so it must have been a good choice. “Anything special you want?”

“As long as it’s edible, I’m game,” she put the notepad away and tiptoed towards her bag where she started to dig. “Oh god, now when you’re talking about it, I’m so hungry. Haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

“Figures,” he commented under his breath and the restaurant picked up on second ring. He ordered twice the usual and by the corner of his eye caught Elissa pulling out a wallet from the bag. Somehow it made him uneasy, so when he was answering questions about his health to the lady on the phone that spoke broken but super adorable English, he put a hand on the wallet and pushed it back to the bag, shaking his head. Elissa looked confused and tried to take it out again, which met with his resistance.

Why? She mimicked at him. Let me pay.

No way. He mimicked back. My treat.

She pouted and it looked so stupid he barked out a laugh, which made her pout even harder. He had to refuse the money two more times after the food arrived.

***

Elissa insisted on sleeping on the couch. He was ready to make the sacrifice and let her use the bed, but she refused so vehemently he began to suspect she was either allergic to beds or maybe traumatized by pillows. Either way her loss, his bed was nice and comfortable and the couch was not.

Well, it wasn’t that bad, but still not the ideal sleeping arrangement, even though she made it look like it was the best thing to lie on. He refused to believe it (since he got the couch, he maybe sat on it twice. He had no idea why he let Anora talk him into buying it). She had her own pillow and a blanket that apparently escaped the water catastrophe but her Pooh bear shirt and plaid pants were in worse condition and Alistair took a pity on her and lent her his own shirt with a Griffon on it (but she had to solemnly swear not to drool on it which apparently offended her, since she threw it at him and then demanded it back).

They went to sleep early, despite napping over the day and Alistair somehow managed to completely forget about her in only few deep breaths once he closed his eyes. His unconscious self still remembered to be quiet in the morning the next day, but it didn’t supply why or any other context, so when he staggered outside of the bedroom in his briefs, he was quiet but also oblivious, up until he finally properly woke up in the bathroom and promptly facepalmed with a loud smack.

He was not surprised when he got out of there that Elissa was staring at him from the couch, still bundled up under the blanket but perfectly awake, and he never felt more naked than now (even though he still had the briefs, which offered little comfort. Or cover. Or dignity).

“Let’s forget this happened,” he offered into the rainy morning and Elissa’s lips widened in a grin. “Please.”

“Mkay,” she just told him, which roughly translated to nope, and went back to sleep.

***

“So?”

“I’m sorry, it’s probably on my chair in the bedroom.”

He already knew how disappointment on Duncan’s face looked like, and this was spitting image of it. The unhappy downturn of his mouth and the curve of his eyebrows haunted Alistair’s dreams when he got into the firefighter training at least for a month after he first saw it.

“Why did you even go home in your uniform?” Duncan sighed in obvious defeat and Alistair felt even worse. “Actually, what’s going on with you since yesterday in overall? Is there a problem?”

“Problem? What problem.” In retrospect that really did sound suspicious when Alistair’s voice cracked in the middle of it. But there was no problem, no sir. No problem at all! He expected this week to carry in similar fashion, sure, but that’d be normal with the getting used to period of the new cohabitation. But nobody needed to know about it. Or about Elissa. Or about anything, really, it’s just Alistair’s private matter. The fact he left his uniform at home – or basically even that he went home in it in the first place – was only an unfortunate accident. He blamed the morning’s briefs faux pas for it.

“Is something going on with the house?” Duncan, that good old man, didn’t buy it. Of course. When did he ever. “Or the piping?”

“Nope!” Another not exactly believable response, Alistair was aware. “I was just curious.”

“About the piping,” Duncan’s eyes narrowed and Alistair had an urge to avoid his eyes. But that would mean he had something to hide, so he could not. The battle with his instincts was killing him.

“Yeah, about the piping,” he nodded in frantic search for a viable excuse, but no bright ideas came when he needed them. Just Elissa grinning at him from the couch, obviously ready to serve him the incident in the face when he was going to expect it the least. He knew her only for a day but he could already see she was a worthy opponent.

On the other side, Duncan’s face told him he didn’t believe a single word. That was fine. Alistair was sure he was going to come up with something before another press for answers comes.

“Desk duty,” the older man announced flatly, making Alistair groan. “You brought it on yourself, boy. Now get to it. Bring your uniform tomorrow.”

“I can totally borrow another, why are you doing this to me,” Alistair protested and stubbornly followed Duncan out of the office like a dog. “Duncan, come on.”

“You obviously need to clear your head,” Duncan told him over his shoulder. He was so not getting swayed by Alistair’s puppy eyes anymore, that was not fair. “So you can start there.”

He didn’t need to say end of debate for Alistair to know he lost.

***

The only bright side of desk duty was an earlier leave while not needing to clean up or help with anything in the base. Sadly, for Alistair it was more of a punishment not to busy his hands with anything, rather than taking a breather, so at the end of the shift he was sucked dry of any motivation to even lift the pen for more than abstract sketches in the corner of the paper.

On his leave Duncan still managed to send him a disapproving look and that held onto him all the way to the store, during the grocery shopping and even through the ride in the elevator. It would probably stick longer if after entering his flat he didn’t find Elissa sitting on the floor, surrounded by papers with various pencil sketches on them, looking back at him with a grin.

Oh no, he thought.

“Didn’t lose your pants today, did ya?” she delivered without mercy. Alistair was afraid to look at her work in fear he would find one sketch to depict his morning lemme just saunter through the flat in my undies situation, because quite frankly she was obviously capable of doing that.

“You’re never going to let me live it down, are you,” he groaned and her grin widened even more. One day and she was already on a high horse? Good grief, since when he was such a pushover.

“Could have been worse,” she offered while he finally took his shoes off and brought groceries to the kitchen. The kitchen that never looked so… empty as it did now. Like half of things were missing.

“Did something happen in the kitchen?” he walked back to the living room with confused expression and Elissa was just stacking the papers together from the floor. There was another pile next to her consisting of pencils of all shapes and a case she probably carried them in.

“Not in few years, I wager,” she replied.

Well, yeah, Alistair wasn’t very big on cooking, true. But still. He watched her gently putting the stacked papers in a prepared folder and closing it with a click and his brows furrowed.

“It looks like stuff is like. Gone?” he glanced back towards the kitchen. “Or something. Like, things that used to be there and I usually just pushed them further when I needed space. Those are gone.”

“They are not gone,” she finished with her cleaning and stood up, still in his Griffon shirt and some loose pants of hers. Looked funny. And weirdly domestic, like in those movies about pillow wars. “I washed them and put them in a cupboard.”

“You cleaned my kitchen?” he blinked in surprise and she passed him and entered the incriminated place herself, just to open one of the cupboard doors, showing the mugs and plates neatly sorted inside.

“Somebody had to do it,” she shrugged. “I’ve wanted to make tea but… I thought the kettle was going to walk away from me, obviously alive.”

“Fair enough,” Alistair cleared his throat and she started going through the groceries, putting them on the table, and then carried them to the fridge. Was weird seeing that. Actually, the whole flat was weird seeing right now, because things were neatly put on their places, the floors clean and the pillows on the couch fluffed, and he had never seen anybody doing this in his home before, it made it feel alien. He couldn’t point a finger on the exact emotion, bad or good, it just hovered in grey area, making him nervous.

“Oh,” he heard her suddenly in the hallway and before he could ask what happened, she was back with him. “I shouldn’t have done that, should I.”

“Done the-“

“The cleaning,” she added quickly, her face showing uncertainty. “I should’ve asked first. Oh man, I’m sorry if I overstepped the boundaries or something.”

Alistair had no idea what to say. He looked around again, at the small touches she left over the place he never really thought of doing, and the Tetris pieces in his mind shuffled slightly, making the shapes still stick out, but… less.

“Sorry,” she said again in much graver tone and hung down her head. She looked like a kicked puppy and Alistair couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. It apparently confused her, since she looked back up with raised eyebrows and he couldn’t blame her.

“Let’s make a deal, you minx,” he pointed at her without any power over his smiling face. “You forget about this morning and I will forget about your obvious lack of sense for privacy. How about that?”

“I didn’t go to your bedroom,” she opposed, catching up on his brightening mood, since her face cleared. “I’m not that brave.”

“Oho,” he crossed his arms on his chest. “Afraid of the pillows, are you. I knew that.”

“The pillows?” she waved her hand. “My dear Alistair, I saw the mess in here, where you don’t sleep. I know what you’re capable of. The bedroom should have a biohazard sign on it, I’m sure.”

“Excuse me, my bedroom is a sacred place,” he shot back.

“When was the last time you changed the sheets?” she mirrored his pose and crossed her arms on her chest as well.

“Last week, actually,” he smirked in victory and she smirked back.

“After how long?”

He took a breath to answer, but then he realized it would only prove her point, so he just let the air out again.

“That’s what I thought,” she scored another point, smiled at him sweetly and left him standing in the kitchen.

Alright, he thought, chuckling. Alright. I can work with that.

[gotgifsandmusings]

Quick asks roundup

I’m going out of town this afternoon for labor dabor, and probably won’t be around much during the weekend. Thought I’d answer a few asks below--just a grab bag, with a vague focus on S7. Should be able to do a video one of these next week, and Julia and I are eyeing a UBS podcast episode pretty soon too.

Anonymous said to gotgifsandmusings: Have you read David Benioff's book City of Thieves? I'm curious how it compares to GoT.

I haven’t, no. I’m not sure if that’s something I want to subject myself to (it has been mostly positively received from what I know, though not across the board) when there’s so much I’ve been putting off reading as it is.

Anonymous said to gotgifsandmusings: Is cerseï pregananant in the boox?

She’s actually gregnant.

Anonymous said to gotgifsandmusings: Just read your criticism about Fair Game and wholeheartedly agree. You touched on the core of why your (and Julia's and Caroline's and Jess' and Turtle's) GoT analysis are so great: they understand the intersection of narrative flaws and social issues. Sure, some people may complain that they don't want "SJW" stuff, except, y'know, you don't stop being a feminist when you write a review. As you say, media is not produced in a cultural vacuum. Sadly, I admit I feel reluctant to...... Actively criticize GoT with people around me because the ones who dislike it also dislike ASOIAF and fantasy/sci-fi ("The show is bad because GRRM is a bad writer who isn't really character-driven, but it's not surprising since genre stuff is awful"). That sucks :(

Yes, exactly! This is in reference to this piece by myself and Julia, btw. That’s really depressing about that perception of genre fic, especially given what Martin does being so unique. I’ve never particularly understood that attitude; I want to read about cool places and stuff happening as much as I want to read about weighty character journeys, and why scoff at any that pull off both? Though Julia has a piece on that too. 

But absolutely, as we said, it’s asinine to ignore the ways culture shapes media and vice versa, and often the reason the writing is so poor is because it’s so sensationalist or reliant on shitty tropes and stereotypes. “Just enjoy it (or critique) without focusing on social issues” is the ultimate sign of privilege, and it drives me crazy because it’s tossed out as an appeal to “objectivity.” IF YOU’RE IGNORING PEOPLE’S EXPERIENCES YOU’RE ALREADY NOT BEING OBJECTIVE.

Anonymous said to gotgifsandmusings: I'm curious why you guys interpret Cersei's internalized misogyny as nothing to do with gender dysphoria. All because Cersei doesn't break down during her period doesn't mean you must read her as cisgendered. She treats femininity like her least-favorite subject in school, not like part of herself. You're welcome to read her story as about women internalizing misogyny, but her thoughts feel familiarly trans, and outright denying that reading closer-to-earths her

This is really interesting, and my assumption would definitely a result of my own distance with that experience. Are there any metas on it? I haven’t really considered this before (I’ve seen the case argued for Brienne), and I’m not very convinced Martin had much intentionality here, but that’s a reading of her character I’d definitely like to learn/think more about.

Anonymous said to gotgifsandmusings: How can Euron "Crow's Eye, Terror of Pentos" Greyjoy come across as such a wimpy villain that I'm missing Ramsay? Hell, effing Joffrey could have torn that cuddly pooh bear a new one.

But...he’s the storm. You weren’t quaking in your boots when his fleet armada magically descended on Yara’s?

Anonymous said to gotgifsandmusings: I haven't seen anyone else comment on this, but did you notice Cheryl says "You expect me to command our troops to fight beside foreign scum?" almost immediately before telling Jaime she's bringing the foreign Golden Company from Essos to fight beside their troops? Do you think the writers ever make it to second drafts or do they just knock out the first on the back of a Hooters napkin over Natty Ices and fist bumps and say, nah, we're good bro?

A showpologist would tell you it’s clearly demonstrating what a horrible hypocrite she is and actually rather cutting commentary.

It’s really, really hard for me to imagine a world where Operation Capture a Wight received a look-over. A whole lot of what they do feels thoroughly unedited.

Anonymous said to gotgifsandmusings: Hey, I really appreciate all your GoT analysis. 1) Is Cheryl's assistant actually Ezri Dax? 2) Did you see Linda's episode review where she called D&D "smug idiots?" 3) Is it possible to enjoy GoT as schlock? I can't and don't, but It is certainly bad enough and dumb enough. Thanks!

Thank you :)

1) According to wikipedia, Ezri Dax’s actor is currently starring in “Corrupt aka Trust No One” and “Where’s my Baby”, but I’m glad you made me look her up, because the resemblance there is quite uncanny. The maid is played by Sara Dylan, and has actually been a consistent, recurring character since Season 2. Apparently her name is “Bernadette” because why not.

2) Was it her newest review? I do listen to those in the background of work when I’m doing spreadsheet kind of stuff, so I may not have caught that exact phrase, but I did hear the part where she basically said “just don’t even bother writing a plot. Only write battles because everything else is terrible.”

3) I mean, the people enjoying GoT are watching schlock, so it must be possible. I happen to think the ardent defenders/honeypotters aren’t the majority, and most people turn it on to watch dragons for 60 minutes, then talk about how cool the dragons looked the next day at work. It’s just that GoT comes with a stamp of “SMART ADULT SHOW” for reasons that will never cease to amaze me. So yeah, totally, but for me, I have a hard time enjoying something when the more you think about it, the worse it gets.

Anonymous said to gotgifsandmusings: I would bet my right hand that someone in the GoT writers' room probably rewatched season 1 which is why there's so many callbacks to it like Arya's "that's not you", Dany's infertility, Bran's "I told you not to trust me", etc etc. Like it just seems so obvious that they realized they ran out of content and decided to just revisit past seasons to make themselves seem smart and like they planned ahead so much.

Oh 100%. Season 1 was this year’s Lord of the Rings, which they had obviously binged before last year. I love it because then all the critics are like, “ohh my god it’s so well-planned and deep.” But no. It’s essentially grinning into the camera going “remember when?”, completely on par with Gendry’s boat joke.

Anonymous said to gotgifsandmusings: The writers gave up 3 seasons ago, but it feels like no one was really trying this year. The cast looked bored. The wigs were trash: Dany's fire-proof wig is also boatsex-proof and freezing wind-proof. The costumes were either too anachronistic for a so-called prestiege Medievalesque Drama or straight up uninspired: Cersei's modern office wear, Dany and LF are shopping at the same department store, Lyanna S dressed up for a college roman-themed party. I guess the special effects were ok.

I’m very, very hesitant to call out costuming because I know Michele Clapton is like, making up these immaculate honeypots and ordering the finest fabrics from Lithuania to pull everything together. But...yeah, as a viewer everything was kind of clearly ridiculous (Euron’s jacket), and EVERYTHING WAS BLACK with the exception of Deadpan’s coat, that was, I’m sorry, objectively hideous. The reason people fawned over it was because it was actually contrasting the blah they had been seeing all season.

As for the cast, I mean...I think these guys are decent actors who get into their roles when they can. But who could get into anything happening at this point? Stuff happens, don’t question it. The directing was probably fine (I don’t know enough about that stuff), but when the script is fundamentally lazy and uninspired, it’s going to bleed into everything.

Anonymous said to gotgifsandmusings: (Regarding episode 7) So the only leak that didn't come true was "Cersei's" bed of blood prediction and I'm wondering if she'll miscarry next season because morally evil incest women like Cheryl don't deserve babies while morally good (with the help of our friendzoned Saint T🙏) incest women like Deadpan get to conquer infertility and birth a Targ with the help of Jonny Cardboard's magic seed. That would be one boring Aegon 2(3?) infant. Thoughts?

Honestly, I can’t make heads or tails of why she was even pregnant. Larry didn’t need that to stay on her side at all, and the only thing I can think was that it added an extra TWIST for us. Haha, viewer! You thought she might have actually wanted to fight the threat because of her unborn kid and how many times we’ve told you her only redeeming quality is her motherhood, but now she’s EVHUL and even idealized motherhood can’t save her!

I guess it’s...kind of trope busting?

I kind of agree though, I don’t see them letting a BAD woman give birth and mother. At the same time, I don’t see how enough time can even pass where this would be a relevant plot-point to anything. So...I just, I don’t get it. I’ve gotta figure out how to structure my sexism & s7 analysis, and going back and revisiting Cheryl is probably going to be one of the most confused parts of it. I see many paths for how this unfolds, and none of them are really too promising.

Alrighty, gotta cut it here for today. Everyone have a safe labor day weekend (I guess there’s no heightened risk for non-Americans, but a safe weekend all the same), and I’ll talk to you guys later!