#still obsessed with whatever the fuck is going on in the bar scene don't @ me

[reiverreturns]

it's the same picture.

#i'm sure this is the high quality high effort content you all followed me for #still obsessed with whatever the fuck is going on in the bar scene don't @ me #top gun maverick

[eleanorfenyx]

I have finished Mysterious Lotus Casebook, and here are some of my thoughts! (Obviously not spoiler free)

The cases are absolutely batshit insane and I loved it every single time they were like 'we totally collected this evidence that incriminates a secret suspect, just believe us and also don't question when the fuck we had the time to do this or when we figured out that we needed to look for it'. 10/10 no notes, that's a hilarious way to have a genius detective. Show us nothing, tell us everything, YES king.

That being said, I could have done with a lot less standing around having the supporting cast repeat whatever Li Lianhua and Fang Duobing announce, maybe in an attempt to make sure their genius is clear for the audience? I get it, but at the same time it felt a little too hand-holdy for me, especially in scenes where LLH and FDB had already discussed their findings between themselves before presenting them to the concerned bystanders. I can read between the lines (or else understand what has just been explicitly stated) without having every conclusion filtered through a slightly different sentence structure to make sure I got it.

Di Feisheng amnesia arc my fuckin beloved

Di Feisheng destroying his 'father' and freeing everyone in Di manor in a vicious act of catharsis that tied nicely into the main Nanyin bug-mind-control-thing narrative my beloved

Di Feisheng my beloved

The amount of times I was like...genuinely surprised he and Li Lianhua didn't kiss is both embarrassing (because I do in fact understand censorship and what I sign up for with these dramas and yet and yet) and numerous enough that I could...possibly...theoretically..write a 5+1 fic of every time I want them to kiss about it. No one hold me to that but it's something I think I'd like to do.

Re: the above point: because what the FUCK was that ending?!!! EXCUSE ME?! I gotta FIX THAT SHIT.

There will come a day when the strength of my hope for an unambiguously happy ending in a queer(-coded? is the source originally bl or is this its own thing?) wuxia drama is rewarded....but it is not this day. I must fix this myself.

Jiao Liqiao's laugh is one of the most annoying things I've ever heard. I was reaaaaally hoping someone would just up and stab her during one of her little evil laughing fits. At one point I was shouting "KILL HER, KILL HER" at my screen because I could NOT take anymore of her (unfortunately, I did in fact have to take more of her).

I still think her insistence on being obsessed with DFS is hysterical when he is so VISIBLY only interested in LLH. Explicitly STATES that his only life purpose is to fuck fight LLH again. Babygirl (derogatory) he is so fucking gay let's get you a nice knife to the gut instead, okay?

I thought the whole Shan Gudao plot was interesting, going from looking desperately for his body -> putting him to rest -> hunting for his murderer -> finding out he's alive/the mastermind behind everything going wrong (which I was proud of myself for realizing before the reveal, I'm normally bad at that) -> thwarting him with sass and superior martial arts at every possible turn -> killing him stone fuckin dead with beginner level skills because he's so up his own hole he can't see that's what's happening - was really fun!

He also has a SUPER annoying laugh he can fuck off

OH OH OH MARTIAL ARTS SKILL OF TRANS YOUR GENDER?! I MARRIED HER SO HER AFFAIRS ARE MY BUSINESS NOT YOURS??? ASKING YOUR WIFE FOR HER FORGIVENESS AND UNDERSTANDING AS YOU LAY DYING AND SHE GIVES IT TO YOU?????? OKAYYYYYYY

The twist at the end that LLH is the one with royal blood was so funny to me. Like it's a good twist and I love that Shan Gudao was just quite literally always a fuckin try-hard loser in ways he didn't even know, but also it was SO funny. Granny coming in clutch at the last fuckin minute with secret knowledge she just literally never shared.

LLH is such a smooth motherfucker. Shame about his insistence on dying when quite literally everyone (bar the people who suck) is begging this man to just live. Just LIVE DAMN IT!!!!! I really liked it when FDB begs him to just consider his own life as important for ONCE and remember that people care about him because YES his self-sacrificing and committment to Chilling Out Farmer Style was not the mercy he thought it was!

LIVE AND GROW OLD WITH DI FEISHENG YOU DAMN IDIOT (the likelihood of me resisting the urge to write at least the one fic for them is zero to none)

Unironically love spitting up blood as a plot device and this show is no different. The Drama. The Panache. The desperation of everyone around you because you have BLOOD coming out of your MOUTH and you are FAINTING. Poison acting up? Spit blood. Someone bitch slap you with their magical palm ability? Spit blood. Get stressed? Spit blood. Get stabbed? Spit blood. It's always good!

Okay I think that might be all I've got for now, if I think of anything else I'll add them in a reblog. I thoroughly enjoyed it, would definitely recommend!

#mysterious lotus casebook #my thoughts #for whatever they're worth #it was nice too because unlike say Word of Honor I didn't mind the overarching plot about the jianghu #and the magical cures/objects that everyone is racing/fighting each other to get to first #WOH was just plain boring outside of the interpersonal relationships in my opinion #but in this there were only a few times I really just did not care about the latest fetch quest and wanted to get back to the relationships

[negrowhat]

BL/QL ASK GAME : THE UGLY, THE BAD AND THE WORST

I saw that @bengiyo did this and I would like to participate!

The categories are :

Worst soundtrack / weirdest song choice in a BL

I think some of the background music choices in Love in the Air/Wedding Plan were odd, mostly during SkyPrapai scenes. I think in one scene Itsy Bitsy Spider was playing and in their wedding scene some random ass old song was playing too. And I can't remember which BL it was where a Christmas Song kept playing in the background during random scenes.

Most cringe-inducing line (cute)

Pleum to Kevin: "You're lovely, trust me on that. If you weren't lovely I wouldn't fall for you from the first time we met." The cringe the cheese and he was always saying cheesy stuff like that to Kevin but I ate it up because he was sincere and so up front. We stan.

Most cringe-inducing line (actually bad)

Rain to Payu: "If you don't stop being angry you're going to scare your wifey." I hate how attached MAME is to the "wifey" title for her characters. That scene was cute but that line is just ugh. And the subbers like to translate it as "Darling" but we all know the truth.

Most stupid decision made by a character

Yu Xi Gu leaving to go buy salt for that stupid soup. (History 3: Make Our Days Count)

Worst plot line

Whatever the fuck the step brothers in History 4 had going on. I could honestly move past them being step brothers if every single thing else about their storyline was not so messed up. (History 4: Close to You)

The most problematic show you’ve watched

1000% TharnType and I completely own that shit. TT was a hot ass toxic mess and I ate up every single bit of it.

A show people love but you find bad

Dark Blue and Moonlight. I just hated every single thing about that series. I hated the stupid cheating plot. I hated both of the main guys. Hated the acting. But when that shit came out I remember that people just LOVED it.

A show people find bad but you will defend

En of Love: Tossara. People found Tossara boring and I just loved their lil series. I love Gun and Bar and sure the acting was a little stiff but they gave me such a warm and cozy vibe. They were honest with each other and had relevant conversations and were mostly unproblematic.

A show that is just objectively bad but you enjoyed it

The Best Twins. Like the plot made no sense and depending on which couple was on screen it felt like 3 series in one and some of the acting was not good but it was a funny lil series that featured a ton of our faves before they were our faves. Also fucking THOR??? He's a gem.

A bad show that you kept watching because you were intrigued/fascinated

History: Obsessed, because what the fuck even was that? I had to see how they made it out to the end.

A bad show that you kept watching because you were horny

Waterboyy...Earth looked really, really hot in that one, but my gawd I would never, ever watch that series again. Between them revoking that one girl's lesbian card, the cheating, the sexual assault, and Waii's daddy getting together with Waii's best friend I couldn't stomach it. Highkey glad EarthNew didn't last.

A bad show that you kept watching because of that one character

My Gear and Your Gown. That character actually being the ship PureFolk, because otherwise that series was a total snooze fest.

A bad show that you would still recommend

My Engineer. The series was quite literally a mess and almost felt like a fever dream with it's wacky characters and random happenings with the plot (also some people didn't like the main couple) but the series is so much fun and we were given a gem of a ship with RamKing/PerthLay. It's just a fun series.

The character that ruined a show the most

Fucking Wai in Bad Buddy. I just couldn't stand him outing his own best friend to the whole school. That was so fucking dirty and Pran was still trying to apologize??????? I almost dropped the series after that because I knew he would never apologize and still everything would be forgiven.

Most awful character that you hated

Tita Susan from Gameboys the Movie/Gameboy S2. Plern Pleng from Together with Me. San from TharnType. Lee So Hee from Light on Me. Fighter's daddy.

Most awful character that you loved

Type from TharnType. Ritsu from The End of the World With You.

A character that wasn’t awful but that you just don’t like

Ben from Never Let Me Go. Dome from Ingredients.

A hero that should have been a villain

Theo from Enchante. Waii from Waterboyy. Yeon Seok from First Love Again.

A morally bad character you’re into

Denis from The Director Who Buys Me Dinner.

A morally bad character you’re not into and you wish people would stop being into

The younger step brother from History 4. Day from Love Syndrome 3.

The show that disappointed you the most.

Check Out the Series and Even Sun.

The Worst Show of Them All Because of Your Own Reasons

Dark Blue and Moonlight

#dark blue and moonlight #the best twins #check out the series #even sun #the director who buys me diinner #waterboyy the series #enchante the series #tharntype the series #tharntype #never let me go #ingredients the series #bad buddy #my engineer #history 4: close to you #history 3: modc #en of love

[neyliaart]

Death is a Guide

Okay so i have realised that tumblr might be the place for my random obsessive analitical shit. So here goes:

Death in media is mostly portraied (from what ive seen) as one of two broad categories:

A: Death as the antagonist to life, the one who is the cause of all death and yearns to eradicate life. The Death that if killed would lead to dying not happening again because Death is portraied as the cause of it. Death is the reason life comes to an end. Often also the most evil of it all.

B: Death as a sort of guide. Death not as lifes antagonist but something of a companion. Death not as the one responsible for the end of ones life, but the one to guide you after said end. Deaths death would not make live everlasting because this Death was not the cause behind the end of life.

And in my overthinking mind i have today come to the conclusion that everyones favorite wolf is the latter altough he evidently does not behave like your typical guiding Death. Nobody asked but i will explain why anyway because i didnt see anybody else do it yet and i want to because it is fun.

I base this on two things specifically, one of which is the scene with the past lives of Puss.

Puss is rather shocked to find out Death himself has come to him because "Im still alive" and one of his past lives even states that what Death is doing is cheating. If not this then what else can tell us that Death is not the one meant to end the lifes of beings? Death is not the one ending their lifes, not the one who decides when a life is over because otherwise this wouldnt be cheating to begin with. If this is cheating then he is supposed to collect the souls after their demise, lead them to the afterlife or whatever other iteration you might choose for him.

He also does not object this statement, he only shushes it with a gesture like he is much aware of his own breaking of the rules and just does not care much about it. A motion somewhat akin to admitting that taking a life directly is not something he is supposed to be doing. Not part of his job as litterally Death.

Second thing is:

He is not an antagonist to live itself either. He is not Death because he has a hatred for live, quiet the opposite. He hates Puss specifically for having nine lives and valuing none of them. He lets him go when he starts to fight and live and VALUE his life. So instead of having a thing against life as a concept he has a thing against wasting life. Which is not much of a thing you would do if you sought to destroy life itself.

Honestly:

I think we all noticed that in some way. I think watching this movie everyone (in one way or another) is aware that Death is a Guide here. We are all aware that he is one of the most crucial parts in Puss's Character Developement in this movie because without the Fear of Death does not come the want to live. That is something you can hardly miss watching this movie and one of the parts that makes it so amazing for me.

But!

Where it gets really interesting for me personally is this:

I refuse to believe that an exsistense to cruical to the world like Death would not know his own role in it. It does not sit right with me to imagen Death himself would not know about how he is essentially a guide, a way for others to value the time they have alive because through him it is limited. And in some way he is also connected to that sentiment, to valuing life because if you don't it is evidently shown that it pisses him off.

So if he knows that, what does that mean?

I will not tell you that he never actually tried to kill Puss and how the cats character developing was always his goal, but i will lean out to say it was always a possibility he was aware of and a possible outcome he didnt object with.

I like to see Death first going out of his way to meet Puss at this bar as a plan with two possible ends for him:

1. He gets to cut work short and even have a little fun by fucking with someone he does absolutly despise for the ego twice his size.

2. Someone starts to value their last life before throwing it out the window.

Both of which options he (evidentially through the end) is at least okay with. I can go on another tangion of why i believe that he was not as invested in the chase at the first encounter as he was in the last and why i believe he wouldn't have been as pissed if he has scared some sense into Puss in their first encounter. But i think one is enough for now.

So while Death does not act as your typical guiding figure i do believe he is aware that he is one. He was always aware that Puss changing was something his interference could lead to and that was at least part of the potential his plan held.

I never know how to end my own rambling so i will just end it here.

In short i really just love thinking about him because he does make a great character with various things to dip into.

#death puss in boots #Analysis kinda? #i still dont know how to tag #or what im doing #i just rambled #a lot #about a fictional wolf

[evenstarfalls]

Rereading Vicious because i can't control myself and i love this book so so much part 2

"He didn't often let himself indulge, but he couldn't deny that there was something simple and satisfying about using his hands" WHAT THE FUCK MAN

Poor Beth 💔

Victor's stick figures haha 10/10 ominous declaration

Eli is such a hypocrite

I feel like someone could do a really good analysis of how what happened in the flashbacks shaped them as villains. Not me but someone

them being in the some hotel is so funny until it isn't

as awful as Serena is her power sounds terrible to have like idk psychologically. it would be nice for about 30 minutes then it would make me miserable and drive me mad

I wanna hear about Eli killing someone with a bear trap

aww Victor's trying so hard not to care about them. most dysfunctional found family

VICTOR AND ELI TALKING ON THE PHONE IT'S JUST BEAUTIFUL THEIR RELATIONSHIP THE TENSION THE HATE THE PINING THE OBSESSION <3 <3 <3

Mitch is a much better dad than Victor. I mean they're both trying I think but Victor is so shit at it you can barely tell

oh so I know this is the villains series but sometimes I wonder if Victor technically qualifies. I mean he definitely does in Vengeful and he's got an evil attitude but he doesn't do much evil in Vicious. Like he's almost an antihero; he does bad things in persuit of revenge. In his case revenge means destroying his serial killer ex, which is a "good" thing to do, but it's really mostly about the hatred and revenge so I kinda don't think he deserves her points for that

I think Victor went through a phase at some point in his life where he talked in a fake british accent to try to sound fancy.

Victor literally radiating an aura of "go away don't bother me" is such goals I want to be able to do that

Vicious AU where Victor and Eli don't just miss each other outside the hotel and they have a verbal battle in the hotel lobby while eating takeout

Dominic...poor boy

Victor is so dramatic like what

VIC SEEING ELI IN THE BAR I CAN'T GJSKGJKJA

"It was only the second execution she'd ever been to" bitch why do you have to say it like thatttt

Sydney was so excited to have matching phones with Victor and Mitch? Poor little girl I want to hug her

Specifically, safe had become Victor.

Specifically, safe had become Victor.

Specifically, safe had become Victor.

Good riddance Serena

I CAN BARELY EVEN READ VICTOR AND ELI REUNITED AT LAST

Sydney is a good pet owner

Victor is having so much fun

Eli being religious is terrifying and horrible and ugly and brings back such bad memories but Dominic being religious I'm just like good for you babe <3

LISTEN IK WHAT HAPPENS NEXT BUT I'M STILL SO SAD IS A WORLD WITHOUT VICTOR EVEN A WORLD AT ALL

listen just imagining the scene where the cops come in and arrest Eli is so real and dark and haunting. Eli insisting he's a hero. Blood everywhere, Victor's body. The monster, exposed before god and man. Eli panicked, yelling for them to burn the body. It's overwhelming

Victor missed Sydney's birthday 💔

Eli love why the fuck wouldn't you burn the evidence. How have you even survived this long. so smart but so dumb

HE LIVES VICTOR(<3) LIVES HE'S BACK HE'S HERE TO GIRLBOSS ANOTHER DAY

One more thought: I'm not obsessed with Eli but I'm obsessed with Victor and Victor's obsessed with Eli so i'm a little bit obsessed with Eli transitive property or whatever

god it's late oops. do i regret it no. i love this book so much. i loaned vengeful to my sister cause i'm trying to make her read it but i think i'm gonna reclaim it

#doing this instead of posting regularly on my other account oop #villains series #villains #vicious #victor vale #ve schwab #victoria schwab #eli ever #sydney clarke #serena clarke #dominic rusher #mitchell turner #evervale #i guess

[vegaseatsass]

for the ask game!! 20, 21, 22

These are such good ones! Thank you, anon! 20. part of canon you found tedious or boring & 22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores I'm going to do these two together, because when I looked deep within for the answer to 20 (since at this point I am pretty sincerely engaged by every single little moment in KPTS ahaha), I realized that there were the parts of canon I found a bit tedious to get through in my first viewing, that I'm always overeager when I'm showing the series to someone new for them to get through so they get to what I think are the emotional hooks of the story and keep watching, but many of those parts are now the answer to 22? Like every part of Porsche defiantly sucking at his job in episode 2: hard/cringy to watch on the first viewing, but on second glance I'm so proud of him for resisting the situation he was put in every way he knew how. He can't quit, quietly or otherwise, but he CAN suck!! Lol. We see in the bar and the boxing ring that Porsche puts his all into his work and is amazing at it, so it's a bit heartwrenching to me, how being punished and shelved and told he's the worst of the lot is such effective conditioning to get him to start willingly working hard at this role he was coerced into. It's fun to watch bodyguard Porsche be all bamf and hypercompetent later, but it is a loss of agency and there is a tragedy in it, so yeah, I love the freedom and whimsy of episode 2 now and hold it so close to my heart. (I also savor the amount of Tankhun we get in episodes 2 & 3!) Similarly, I, like just about everyone else ever, found the Tawan episodes a bit draggy compared to how enthralled I was in episodes 4-8 and 11-13, but after poring over weird little guy Tawan in my head, and reading meta about him (how he was the woman in the tower and a picture of where Porsche could have ended up, and still might), I'm obsessed with both him and those episodes, and think fandom should talk about both 400% more than it does. I mean, EYE should talk about him 400% more than I do, whenever I forget about Tawan in a ship poll or whatever I give myself the stinkeye but yeah, there is so much to mine in those episodes (Vegas doesn't seduce with whips and chains he seduces with smol sad boy eyes and MARRIAGE PROPOSALS; Arm showing his love by helping you surveil your boyfriend who is his boss?), let's ignore them less, fandom!

To try to give an honest answer about what I find boring in canon now, I will say that I thrilled over all the late canon Kinn/Porsche domestic bliss on my first viewing, and I still love the tonal dissonance of how sweet and happy they seem before the narrative reveals that Porsche's being there is even more coerced than he thought, and Kinn knew that, and now here are 5 other fucked up reveals that they're both going to look away from so they can be together - but bread placement aside, a lot of those later scenes don't really tickle my brain on rewatch. I'm like: GO BACK TO THE FUCKY DRAMA ALREADY!! lol 21. part of canon you think is overhyped See I'm gonna suck at this meme because I don't think that anything is overhyped as in fans talk about something too much when it's not that great, but I will say the early Vegas/Pete interactions (magnum dong condom scene, temple scene) stir almost nothing in me shipwise. I love the stakeout scene for Pete flinging himself at Pol (and on my second viewing, for the realization that Pete is SO competent at so many things but not??? spying??? so why does Kinn keep sending him???), and I love the temple scene for Macau's eagerness to wingman for his brother @ prey animals (and in retrospect, it is fun that they have this "we'll make it through so many near-death experiences together" foreshadowing), but the actual Vegaspete of it all did nothing for me in those moments. It took a while for me to suspend my disbelief when reading fanfic and imagine that there was any chemistry between them before Pete was cackling in the throes of ball torture.

#kpts #asks

[christmasintheloonybin]

I need to go meet people or something. literally where do you go to meet people? bars are not my scene, I went to a bar once, I didn't even go alone I went with someone, well I met Agnes there. and I just ended up feeling so depressed. every time I meet people it just makes me depressed. strangers I mean. Agnes was drunk by the time I got there and it made me angry. also she was socializing well and it made me angry. all of her friends got on my nerves and back then I was probably not discrete about it.

but moving forward, in general what do you even talk about? like with strangers. especially in a situation where you have nothing to go off of. I met this girl once because she was friends with that childhood of mine who's nonbinary now, and that was maybe the one good interaction I've ever had in my life with a complete stranger because we could talk about our common friend and go from there. like if you're sitting with someone at a bus stop or something, what the fuck are you supposed to say? and at shows and shit it feels contrived or something to say, idk, "you like this band?" obviously. people have done this to me and it pisses me off. when attractive people do it to me it doesn't I guess. but I have no clue how attractive I am. it depends on the day I guess. but still it's contrived and it's a stupid thing to say. or the intention is so fucking obvious, "I want to talk to you" why? because I think youre cute? because you're fashionable? because I want to fuck you? the intention can only be misread. and any time a situation has emerged where I could talk to a complete stranger it passes and it's gone. for example, there was a show, the circle jerks show which I did not go to because I was depressed or whatever. and I saw this girl walking wearing the shirt but I was in a restaurant with my grandmother. so this is pathetic, after eating I just walked around town hoping I would see her and we could talk about hardcore. I am very fucking lonely. and I didn't want to fuck her or anything, it's sort of a creepy thing to do but my intentions were pure I just wanted to talk about hardcore. that's the thing too, in the majority of situations I have nothing to contribute I am only interested in what I'm interested in, the thing I see a lot, especially with men, is that people will just talk. they'll just say something, they have no background or opinion they'll just fill silence. when I have nothing to say my lips are sealed. I meet someone what the fuck are we supposed to talk about? thr weather? I could just start talking about one of my autistic obsessions but who wants to hear that? no one. and especially with normies I mean I'm sure a lot of them are really cool interesting people, but what the fuck are you supposed to go off of. "I like your clothes they're just like everyone else's clothes, I like your hair it's just like everyone else's hair, and your shoes too, very normal choices." I always figured because, well I'm not like a fucking tik tok girl or something, but I don't dress like a normie, I always figured if I went to a city or something people would just come up and talk to me. but that's not how it is. that's one of the reasons I used to wear band shirts all the time. like please someone just fucking talk to me. about the fucking cure or whatever I do not care.

[hesesols]

The Devil's Advocate

Day 19 and 21 of Ichiruki month 2020

Summary: Demons are a pain in the neck. Exhibit A: The pint-sized she-demon Ichigo’s stuck with until further notice.

Rating: T

FF/ao3

.

.

His mouth is bone dry.

Summer heat renders the humidity inside the tiny studio apartment stifling. Heat and sweat cling onto him like a second skin and the stupid electric fan does nothing to ease it.

It's barely three in the morning when he trudges over to his fridge and parks himself in front of the open doors. The blast of cold air hits his heated body nicely. He almost moans.

Instinctively, he grabs the bottle of orange juice from the side and takes a swig from it- only… it's empty?

He growls, "Rukia, what did we say about leaving the empty OJ in the fridge?"

The culprit spares him a lazy smirk from her end of the couch, violet cat-eyes gleaming from the faint glow of the TV. She tilts her head just so as she sticks her tongue out at him.

"Oops!"

Ichigo wearily sighs and slams the door shut, mumbling something about free-loading she-demons. His life is hardly picture perfect to begin with anyway with his job at the Metropolitan Police as a homicide detective. Work hours are long, and his mornings usually start off with unsolicited gruesome crime scene photos and a diluted concoction of coffee-water that is nowhere nearly as strong as he needs it to be.

Since Rukia moved in though, things seem to have gone from bad to worse.

His neighbours think she's his live-in girlfriend- sweet, albeit a little strange at times. Ichigo snorts. They don't know half of it.

The midget isn't even human.

Underneath a heavy layer of glamour, are two spiral-shaped horns- the colour of it blending near seamless with her nest of glossy black hair and of course, a very noticeable fork-tipped tail, flicking from side to side as she giggles at his obvious annoyance at the OJ-less situation.

Filling his cup with lukewarm tap water instead, he trudges over and nudges at her to move. Wordlessly settling next to her, he then proceeds to ignore her indignant yelp as he splays his long legs on the couch, taking up much of her space.

She huffs and glares at him, which earns her a careless roll of his eyes.

"What are you watching?"

Squinting slightly from the brightness, he scoffs as he realizes that she's watching a Spanish telenovela. Though watching may be an understatement in this case, Rukia is obsessed with them to the point where she becomes a little too invested in the torrid love affairs of the fictional characters on screen. By virtue of her otherworldly origins, she understands every language known to man and speaks in tongues; Ichigo doesn't and thinks it's a feat that he catches the names of the characters in passing.

He grabs the remote control, surprised when she viciously slaps his hand away and hisses, "Change the channel and I guarantee you won't live long enough to see the next dawn."

"I'd like to see you try."

Ichigo snorts and does it anyway. It's hard to take her seriously even with the whole glowing eyes business when she is so tiny that she barely comes to his shoulder.

As a demon, Rukia is surprisingly low maintenance- the most outrageous of her demands since she has gotten herself suspended in limbo in their plane of existence was for him to take her to a bunny café. That being said, she does however take her soaps and TV shows very seriously which explains her aggressiveness as she launches herself at him, her touch burning hot on naked skin as she grapples for the device.

"Give it back!"

Ichigo stretches, holding it in one hand just shy of her reach, taunting her.

"Why don't you make me, midget?"

Growling, she takes him up on his challenge. Violet eyes ablaze as she clambers over him on all four, chewing at her lower lip from the effort. It shouldn't even be possible Ichigo thinks, for demons to be this cute- ahem-fixated with earthly distractions but the press of her lithe body feels warm against him, deluding him into thinking for a second, that Rukia isn't some supernatural being from the nether realms powerful enough to send him flying with a snap of her fingers.

Sometimes, he feels she almost forgets about her inhuman advantages- on purpose. The puff of warm exhale from her makes his hair stand, the sight of her face so close to his jerks his thoughts away from his nonsensical musings. Her shirt hikes up and the collar that is way too loose on her easily falls off her shoulder, showing skin.

He bites the inside of his cheek. She needs to stop prancing around in his shirts.

She has her own clothes to wear. He bought her a full array of sundresses, pants, shirts and skirts. Ichigo thinks it's compulsion that makes her raid his closet and steal his clothes. It wouldn't have been quite so ridiculous if she wasn't so petite, making his worn-in T-shirts look more like dresses with the hem cut conspicuously shorter than normal on her thighs.

Ichigo looks away and takes a quick gulp of water. The heat is doing things to him.

He's not checking her out.

He swears. Honest to God.

He's not suicidal. He wouldn't put it above Rukia to claw his eyes out or alternatively damn him to the deepest pits of purgatories if she found out about him sneaking glances at her.

"Here!"

Ichigo throws the remote back at her, standing up abruptly without sparing her another glance. His skin feels warm- much warmer than it has any business of being under a demon's touch and his mouth dry. No touch of water will ever begin to quench this thirst and tame his racing heart but he is human enough to still try to run from the implications.

It's too hot to think. He grabs his keys and wallet.

"I'm heading out."

Rukia's voice rings up from the couch- cool, unaffected as always. Ichigo hates her a little for it, almost.

"This time of the day? Where are you going?"

"To get some OJ from the corner shop since someone finished it and couldn't even be bothered enough to replace it."

Her grin is impish, not a shred of remorse from her as she sighs and kicks back, reclaiming her sovereignty over the couch.

"Oh, could you grab some ice-cream while you're at it? I think we're all out too."

He grimaces, halts his process of shrugging on a shirt to yell back, "They're full of sugary crap. Too much of it and you're going to rot your teeth!"

Just before he sets foot outside though, he grumbles.

"What flavour do you want?"

The grin she flashes at him is annoying and indolent with her spread out on the couch, like a cat in the sun, pleased with her unchallenged access to her favourite soap and him running errands on her behalf.

The satisfaction practically purrs from her as she smirks and says, "Strawberries and cream."

His cheeks burn and he tells himself that he's too nice for his own good, staunchly refusing to even consider the possibility that she's got him wrapped around her pretty little fingers.

.

.

.

The streets of his neighbourhood are mostly deserted in the wee hours before dawn and the scarcity of people makes the air somewhat bearable despite the heat. He walks home in the dark, his groceries in a plastic bag hanging limply by his side.

Ichigo sighs. It's a horrible thing to be distracted by thoughts and downright disgraceful that it has taken him this long to realize that he's being followed.

He turns the next corner sharply and as expected, the heavy footsteps, the crunch against the gravel of the pavement follows. He hides behind the decrepit wall, bidding his time until the sound creeps close enough for him to make out the shadow of a hunkering man.

Now!

He leaps out from the shadow, swinging the heavily-laden bag like a weapon at his attacker.

The stranger decked from head to toe in black falters from the surprise attack. He is forced to take another step back as the weight hits him dead centre- quickly followed by a punch from Ichigo, letting out a pained groan as his world spins.

"Who sent y- the fuck!—"

The hood of his attacker slips off and Ichigo is more than a little shocked by the ghastly appearance of the creature underneath it. Whatever this thing is- it's not human. Yellow teeth- drool dripping from the corners of the gaping mouth and sunken cheeks make up the most sinister-looking skull-face he has ever seen. The thing's unfocused milky white eyes sharpened at him.

The creature throws itself at him, snarling with claws drawn out and aimed at his jugular.

Forced on the defensive, Ichigo doesn't hesitate. Instincts and years of experience have him throwing the bag of grocery at the ghoul as a distraction to buy him time. He takes off down the street in the opposite direction without looking back.

The bag rips, predictably; the contents of it spilling into the empty streets but it barely slows the creature down.

Outrunning him by a good minute, the creature lunges at him from his blind spot which he clumsily dodges. His back meets the wall of the alleyway, chipping off old paint and the uneven edges bite into his skin through his flimsy cotton shirt, drawing blood. He hisses in pain but there's barely even time to register it as the ghoul lunges again.

The strong jaw of the creature crushes the pieces of garbage Ichigo throws at it, rendering them into splinters. Its movements and attacks unrelenting and aimed to kill.

Weaponless as opposed to the creature's deadly bite and claws, Ichigo has neither the speed nor the agility to fully dodge the frenzied attacks. The odds are stacked against him and with every swipe and snarl; Ichigo feels his chances of survival dwindling.

He is crawling backwards on all four, back against the wall when his hand closes on a steel bar. He thanks the stars and whatever higher power there may be but knows that he is not out of the woods yet.

Grim determination sets in as his eyes harden.

He only gets one chance- one chance to get this right or he's dead and done for.

.

The ghoul rears up for its attack and Ichigo readies himself.

Mid-launch, the steel bar spears through the creature's twisted body. It gives a strangled cry, black blood oozing and dripping onto the pavement, over Ichigo's battered and bruised body. But Ichigo refuses to let go. He pushes it in deeper until he can hear the snap of muscles and soft tissues, and sees the metal protruding from the other side of the dead monster.

The ghoul flops over dead. Its weight settles on top of Ichigo and he eagerly hoists it off, eager to put some distance between them. The damn thing smells worse than the open sewage and rotten corpses.

Above him, there is an ominous roll of thunder and flashes of lightning that streak through the dark skies. Ichigo picks himself up wearily. He has no intention of being caught in the downpour.

Sharp pain shoots from his side as he hobbles. His hand comes up red and in disbelief, his eyes flit to the wound on his side, cut deep and the shred of cotton or what remains of his tattered shirt is soaked in the bloom of scarlet. The drip—drop of blood follows the pull of gravity, pattering onto the hot pavement.

He's been stabbed, he realizes belatedly and curses, that was his favourite shirt too.

.

Adrenaline fades and his legs give way from the blood loss.

A drop of something cool slides down his cheek before the torrent of rain follows, drenching him as he lays helpless on the deserted street, too weak to even yell for help.

He heaves a shaky breath, trying to make himself comfortable. The ache of the pain somehow dulling as the rain blurs his vision.

Cliché but he swears he sees his life flashing before him. And at the forefront of his strange musings and equally bizarre life cut short before his time, he remembers his first meeting with Rukia.

.

.

There's nothing quite like satanic cults and human sacrifices to brighten up the prospects of the day.

Ichigo grimaced, looking at the crime scene photos with a deep frown as he sipped at his coffee. He should have never taken up Ishida on his offer.

This case had all the makings of a ritual killing. Missing child, dead parent cut open with palms splayed, gruesome markings etched- he scowled; it reminded him too much of his own loss.

A tip-off from Anonymous led him to an abandoned warehouse not too far away from the Docks, the scene of the first murder.

"Don't do anything stupid," Ishida had cautioned him against it, "It's just another prank call. I sent a team out to canvas that area hours ago. There's nothing in that warehouse."

But Ichigo wasn't convinced. Gut instincts screamed at him to take a closer look at it but he also wasn't about to pick a fight when they should be focusing the bulk of their resources and time into finding the missing girl. The first 48 hours are crucial.

He's tough and packing. That made the second part of his decision a no-brainer as he slinked in past the locked gates and rusted metal fences— alone.

What he found inside the warehouse though was enough to make him balk.

"Nothing to report, my ass," he mumbled, carefully avoiding the pile of animal bones strewn along the doorway. He thought he heard the scurrying of rats and other critters as he made his way in deeper, unable to shake off the feeling of being watched.

There's something else in here. He could feel it in his bones.

He drew his weapon as he wandered into a room with what seemed to be a laid altar with offerings of dead flowers and questionable animal remains.

Heavy clouds of sulphur and incense filled the air, making his eyes water. In the centre of the room, was a circle, curious glyphs and runes drawn in red that he strongly suspected to be blood, candles with half-burnt ends flickering.

There's a pull at him towards the circle. He didn't resist it. The minute he crossed the threshold though, the candles were snuffed out and a blinding white light enveloped him. A strange ringing echoed through the room.

When his vision cleared, there was a girl with two horns and a tail standing in front of him, violet eyes searing into his as she bowed somewhat mockingly.

"Took you long enough. I was beginning to think that I'll waste away here for another week before someone shows up."

He stared, slack-jawed at her nudity or rather her lack of shame at her own state of undress.

She was unimpressed. Tapping her foot impatiently, she looked at him and said, "Well don't just stand there and gape. State the terms of your contract and we'll see if something can be arranged."

.

.

"Ichigo!"

The memory fades. The same pair of violet eyes are now boring deep into his.

"Rukia," he breathes. Talking is hard but he tries anyway. If it's to be his dying words, let them at least have meaning. Rukia- her existence and the events leading to her presence in his life are the only things that have ever made sense in a world said to have been created by an all-loving God and yet so full of injustice and hate.

"Stop talking! Damn it!"

He thinks she's smarter than that. He's lost too much blood now to ever come back whole. He is beyond saving at this point.

There's a light somewhere guiding him on. Maybe he'll see his mom after this; will she be proud of him- of what he's done with his life?

"I won't let you die."

There's a strange shimmering in the air. The shaft of light shining down on him is suddenly blotted out and he is falling-

Falling-

Falling-

.

He slams back into his body and chokes.

The pain is a hundred times sharper and a million times more jarring than he remembers. Brown eyes snap open just in time to see Rukia's kneeling body enshrouded in a silver ashy glow of light; her hand plunged deep into his chest.

The rain plasters her hair to her face; her eyes an unholy combination of black sclera and violet irises. She growls from the effort as her fingers tirelessly trace rune after rune across his broken body. The burnished ring of gold on his chest glows and hums with each and every character added.

Ichigo can only watch on in stunned silence as a cascade of something iridescent is siphoned from her and pulled into him. He thinks he hears singing, sweeter than the song of a nightingale and so beautiful that he thinks he just might cry from it.

She grits her teeth.

"Do you trust me?"

He nods.

She presses her lips to his. He surges forward to meet her and tastes the saltiness of her tears, mingled with that of the rain. There's a cut on her lip from where she had been biting too hard and the taste of it- like honey, decadent and syrupy, lingers on his palate.

The pain- or rather the absence of it grows and he feels something being anchored into place.

His heart.

Her heart.

There's something between them that is beyond words and whatever she's done, Ichigo knows it's life-changing for the both of them. He knows somehow, staring at the identical marks of a glowing glyph on the back of their palm.

They're bonded.

But even the very word seems inadequate to express this shimmer between them. There's a sliver of her- something inhuman— nay, a dark voice whispers, better than human— within him and it makes the world incomprehensibly sharper in his eyes, the taste of the summer air sweet on his tongue and the warmth of her skin so achingly perfect against his own as he holds her.

Pink flesh peeks through his tattered shirt. He is once again healed, whole, rendered into something new in her presence.

"So," he licks his dry lips, "did Hector ever managed to tell Maria that he loves her?"

"You idiot!"

She is shaking her head, calling him names for his recklessness. At length, she stops, and heaving a sigh of deep relief, grins at him, canines showing.

"Welcome back to the world of living, Master."

.

.

.

FF/ao3

The 'I-accidentally-summoned-a-cute-demon-and-now-I-think-I'm-in-too-deep-to-let-her-go' AU

Also detective! Ichigo who solves crime with some help from the occult world- courtesy of his soulmate/familiar/contract partner demon! Rukia.

As always, review, like, reblog, comment or send me an ask to share random thoughts.

#ichiruki #ichirukimonth #irmonth2020 #Day 19: all my demons have your smile #day 21: supernatural #supernatural AU #fanfic #mine #the devil's advocate

[joeyvintage]

https://www.videoreligion.net/2019/01/violent-shit-2-mother-hold-my-hand-1992.html?m=1

-rev terry

I think if I were a badass, I would need a metal mask or full covering helmet of some kind. Not for the armor aspect, although head protection is always good, I'm just a fan of the look. I would wear one in my daily life now, but they are probably expensive, and people would expect me to do something cool (as I too would expect of a dude with a metal head).  All my favorite villains had one in my youth. Both Magneto and Dr. Doom from the comics commanded respect and fucked shit up while wearing some metal on their heads. They were probably my earliest examples, but honestly, that's enough to have secured my love for the style. Their helmets were both semi utilitarian but mostly just looked really awesome with their cape combo. In cartoons, GI Joe took the effects of mirrored sunglasses to the next level with Cobra Commander, as he sometimes just had a smooth piece of chrome covering his face. I can get down with that--the blank and shiny look. It’s stylish features even distracted from his shrill sounding voice. I would probably go with something a little more personalized myself, but would definitely want something metal. It just completes the whole look for me. Something about a good sturdy helmet just fits with murder and mayhem. Karl the Butcher gets it. That's why, when he died, along with his love for over-the-top murder, he passed his fancy medieval headwear down to his son, so he would be properly dressed for his own adventure in Violent Shit II (1992).

Long after the events of the first film, two makeshift drug distributing gangs meet up in an open field to engage in something nefarious with a briefcase. For whatever reason, the deal sours, and the two groups go at eliminating each other in various gusher inducing ways. The battle whittles the congregation of assorted backyard wrestles down to a one on one duel between the leaders who both happen to practice kung fu and enjoy white button-up t-shirts. After some fancy moves, one of them slays the other in combat and begins to leave the scene (sans all his dead homies, I guess) but is stopped in his tracks by the sight of a large masked man yelling at him on the horizon. Turns out Karl Butcher Jr, son of the legendary mass murderer, was out for a stroll, spotted the dealers killing each other, and, not to be left out, had rushed to join. Very quickly, Karl (Andreas Schnaas) is on top of the would-be lone brawl survivor and promptly fucks him up with a machete just before the screen goes black. Following its intro and sparse opening credits, the film takes the form of a true crime documentary in development by reporter Paul Glas. Paul believes a string of recent murders can be linked back to The Butcher massacre from twenty years before (and also, the whole thing has something to do with real-life serial killer Fritz Honka...I think?). After divulging the history of Karl senior for a bit over panning random footage of Germany, the reporter follows a tip leading to an interview with some dude in a bar who confirms his suspicions. The Deepthroat-esque “DR. X” then tells him a few stories about the original culprit’s son who, mad about a face rash or something (honestly between the bad subs and silly plot I'm still dim on some details, but it doesn't really matter), had also already done some minor rampaging of his own in the last few years . Switching formats once again, we catch up with Karl II and his (adoptive?) mother (Anke Prothmann in a lot of make-up). Turns out, Momma Butcher has been priming her young progeny to follow in her late husband's footsteps, and now that he has grown to be the spitting image of his father (complete with the heirloom medieval helmet), he is ready to do some eccentric butchery of his own. In fact, this time will be extra special, because mom is coming along too. As one could probably guess, Karl's old lady has some very peculiar parenting ideas, specifically cannibalism and incest. Also at some point, a naturally occurring body hole gets closed up with a stapler, and I think someone eats poop, so watch out for that.

The title is about as far from the old-fashioned B-movie bait and switch as you can get. Like the first film, Violent Shit is wall to wall grotesque violence, only now (in true sequel fashion), it's been turned up a few ridiculous levels. There is an increased story to it compared to the first film, that is to say, there is more than nothing tieing the insane moments of torture and dismemberment together. For the first few acts, a disjointed, random, and confusing series of events form some semblance of a point, but the film forgets about the majority of this as it moves on into plasma soaked sadism. Mostly, the additional fluff just makes room for things the series was truly missing-- like a training montage, cliche fauxumentary tropes, and Kung Fu.  Karl Jr's maternal relationship adds fucked up frosting to an already disturbing cake of sinister shit. The weird sexual thing that's going on there, combined with mom's encouraging cheers, was enough to make me glad the subtitles are wonky and that I don't speak German. At around the same runtime, it might be a little lighter on the fake entrails than the first to make room for the added story, but it wouldn't be considered lacking in most circles. The Butcher-minor is more creative than his father but also seemingly obsessed with genitals (of all genders), which is weird and takes a lot of screen time. There are a few classic machete whacks to the face for some victims. However, as the body count grows, most of the slaughter comes with long, drawn out, silly torture and bloodletting. A bare-bones opposite to the Saw-style mouse trap, instead of providing intricate setups for the deaths, the act of execution itself is long, complicated, and involves several steps. It's all sure to offend anyone who watches but is too extreme to take seriously. Even if you are of the squeamish type, by the fifteenth minute of growling testicle torture and six similar acts, the action loses any real shock and becomes either just gross or hilarious (and gross). It goes for broke, eventually just dissolving into increasing levels of carnage, capturing the essence of a drunken night between friends trying to top each other's morbid imagination. Along with its spastic rampage, the film makes several references to classic American horror films and even borrows a few plot points from the Friday the 13th series unambiguously. To its credit, it's moved forward quite a bit from the first writing-wise, although it’s not like it is casting a bigger net for an audience. It's still just random gore because that's fun sometimes, and hopefully, no one who pops in a film titled Violent Shit 2 will be worried about the level of drama involved.

Shot on tape and seemingly dumping the entirety of its finite resources into gore, Violent Shit 2 is, again, what it says on the tin. The whole thing looks like it was shot in different sections of the same public park, which it refers to as a “forest” at one point. The John Woo tribute, in the beginning, is the film’s most developed moment as far as framing and choreography go, displaying some above average movie brawling for its budget. For the film’s meat and potatoes (Karl the second, killing people), it's a lot more of the same backyard style camera work that kind of hangs around watching the action from any accessible angle. Shots seem almost placed at random, and it jumps between them with meaningless cuts. The film’s biggest draw is an overabundance of practical gore, which comes out as a step above the rest of the film quality- wise. For the lack of resources, the film utilizes some pretty gnarly effects when it comes to flesh mangling, and it doesn't skimp or pull away.  I think I counted four different consistencies of blood, and each horrible scenario is trying to top the last. Without spoiling anything, there is a range of squirtastic stabbings and stringy limb removals that, despite their amateur surrounding conditions, would give a lot of larger budget splatter flicks a run for their money.  Some of the more ambitious (for lack of a better word) moments spend a little too much time on screen and give themselves away, but all together it should more than slate any grimy blood-seekers thirst or send anyone else running. When it isn't mumbling at random volumes, the dubbing is just screaming, grunting and giggle-worthy squishing sounds with no attachment to what's on screen. Music-wise, the film is laced with an out of place, unbalanced soundtrack that sounds straight out of an RPG fantasy video game. Besides the Dungeons & Dragons mood tunes, it does have a German death metal/butt rock theme song (Violent Shit by Vice Versa) bookending it that captures the spirit nicely and almost feels critically necessary. Stick around afterward for some bonus scenes and marquee of credits that look like they are trying to sell you knock off sunglasses.

German director Andreas Schnaas has made an international name for himself with a torrent of ultra-low budget, ultra-violent gross-out splatter flicks that continues today. In 1989, he and some homies secured a tiny bit of funding to form the company Reel Gore Productions and produce their first full-length picture titled Violent Shit. Filmed over four weekends and with a rented tape recorder, the project amounted to a series of violent acts committed by a large masked man named Karl the Butcher, crafted with homemade practical effects (and little else). By the grace of the trash-gods, it saw a single midnight theater showing but received mostly negative reviews on its initial video release due to its lack of production values. However, with a little help from a to-the-point naming strategy and its unrefined grimy gusto, it found an audience worldwide over the following years in less discerning gore hounds who don't mind the homemade feel (a bunch of fucking weirdos probably). Succeeding their second feature Zombie '90: Extreme Pestilence in 1991, Andreas & Co would return to the world of Violent Shit and brewing cult following. To date, the character Karl the Butcher has appeared in six flicks, that I know of, including a reboot of sorts (Violent Shit: The Movie 2015) by Italian director Luigi Pastore, without Andreas Schnaas involvement. Schnaas himself would play the role in most outings, taking over for Karl Inger (allegedly) after the first film.

Violent Shit II: Mother Hold My Hand (aka Violent Shit 2) is a composition sketchbook of demented cartoon executions forged during an in-school suspension and realized in full-color low fidelity magnetic tape. For the right crowd, it's an awesomely inelegant, generously proportioned helping of sloppy sleaze, possibly best devoured while intoxicated. It advances from the first movie to some degree in almost every way, but it's still one for the same exclusive and fucked-up crowd. If you want tasteless acts of dismemberment, childish boundary-pushing, and obscene special effects, it's got you covered. Those seeking damn near anything outside of that, better look for their kicks elsewhere. In a way, it has the same MO as a Gallagher show, in that there are small bits of gibberish in between gags, but ultimately everyone watching is just waiting for red shit to spray, and a majority of possible viewers are not going to get the joke. I enjoy the fuck out of the unseemly mess, although I don't know what that says about me. I also really dig Karl the Butcher’s fashion sense. If only I too had been lucky enough to have inherited some cool metal headgear along with the destructive predispositions.

[blustersquall]

Hey what's your opinion on Dorian and Cullen as a ship? I personally don't like it, I don't really think they would be good together. I'm all for Cullen being bi (especially since it's canon, right?) And I love Dorian to death because his story helped my personal journey, but I think those two in particular are just better off friends. What do you think? You don't have to answer I just really respect your opinions within this fandom and love your OMB story.

Okay, so, before I get to the main question here, let me just *sighs for a million years*.

I’m on a roll with these unpopular opinions, so why stop now.

Cullen is not bisexual. 

There were plans to make him bisexual, just as there were plans to make Solas bisexual. But due to time constraints, both those ideas were scrapped. Lines were recorded, and someone very bored decided to dig through who knows how many files to find those handful of lines, but they did not make it into the game. Ergo, bisexual Cullen and bisexual Solas are not canon.

If it made it into game and was an actual thing then yeah, I’d agree with you. But it didn’t. Lines were recorded, but it never happened. Not canon. I guess I’m a purist when it comes to stuff like this. If people wanna make them bi, go ahead (although, I mean, Bioware made every LI in DA2 bisexual (bar one) to appease people and so their PC could romance whomever they wanted and they complained so I don’t see the benefit of taking canonically straight characters and making them bisexual, but whatevs). Fandom is fandom. 

Like I said, I’m a purist. I prefer keeping characters with the sexuality and race gating they are aligned with canonically. I like that Cullen can only be romanced by a f!human or a f!elf. You know why? Because, in real life, people have preferences. I know the real reason was again, probably time constraints, and they couldn’t work out the logistics of him vs. a f!qunari or an f!dwarf. But, I still like it. Same with Solas. Although I’ve never romanced him (I really dislike him, sorry) I think the fact he can only be romanced by an f!elf PC adds more weight to his romance. I think a lot of impact would have been lost if he could have been romanced by any of the female PCs.

And I know, I know. Bisexuals are severely wanting for representation. In general. Not just in video games. And I am not trying to take that away. But taking a canonically straight character and proclaiming they are bisexual because of a few prerecorded lines and the dropped plans of making them bisexual is not representation. It’s a head canon. Real representation comes from these characters being gay, bi, lesbian, transgender, polyamorous, pansexual, etc. etc. in the finished product. The product that is shipped to the masses.

That’s how representation is done. And while it is still severely lacking in pretty much every medium out there, representation is growing. And long may it continue.

Anyhoo, ON TO THE QUESTION.

The Dorian/Cullen ship is as dumb as Cullistair. As dumb as Samson/Cullen (though, admittedly, not as fucking creepy or twisted. Seriously people who ship Samson/Cullen, what the actual fuck? That’s for another day. Focus).

The two of them have one scene together (two if you choose to side with the Templars and Dorian arrives from Redcliffe to warn you of the mages coming). That one scene of them playing chess together is actually optional. Did you know that? If you don’t talk to Dorian before you go and have that scene with Cullen, you get Leliana in the scene instead. And yet there is no Cullen/Leliana shipping.

I wonder why that is.

Could it be because Leliana is female? Could it be that this fandom has a weird fucking obsession with shipping male characters together, regardless of interaction or whether there’s actually any chemistry or friendliness there? You know, I think I might be onto something.

I think they would be amazing friends. I think the two of them comparing their histories, and even going so far as to work together on things would be amazing. Cullen has clearly had few friends since Kinloch, and I think it’s safe to say Dorian probably didn’t have many people around him he could call friends, that he could be open and honest with. I would like to think that changes with Inquisition, and I think that he and Cullen would be really good friends.

The kind of friends that could have conflicting opinions on something, and yet still see the other person’s point of view. Who can and are supportive of the other person and their romance with the Inquisitor.

Do I think Dorian might think Cullen attractive? Sure. And I imagine Cullen would admit that Dorian is handsome too. Does that mean they want to bang? Nope. You can appreciate someone’s appearance, their good qualities, and accept their bad things too, without wanting to stick your dick in them (or have them shove their dick in you. Whatever).

I am glad that Dorian helped you with your personal journey, to end this on a positive note. That he did is amazing, and a testament to the fact video games are more than just games. That these characters often resonate with people on deeply personal levels and can help them in ways the game devs probably never expected. I think it’s really wonderful than Dorian’s story helped you. That you found a character you connected with, and who in a way guided you, is an amazing thing.

Cullen is the same for me. I suppose that is why I make these posts, and get so protective over him (and why I literally clench my teeth when I see things with him being … out of character. I get that super dominant Cullen is a kink, but yeah. Lets not get into that.) 

Watching him deal with the trauma he experienced, to try and atone for his mistakes, all the while knowing his actions (or inaction against Meredith and her tyranny) can never be forgiven (and that he doesn’t ask for or expect forgiveness for it) really speaks to me on a personal level. 

So, I am really glad that Dorian was a positive experience for you. No one can ever take that away from you. And you should cling to any character who gives you that experience with all your might. Never, ever let someone take it away or taint it. Fight tooth and fucking nail to keep it, and never be afraid to tell people why that character means so much to you, and why you are so protective of them. Especially when its because you’re afraid of backlash. Characters who speak to you on a deeply personal level, whose own experiences help with your own are few and far between. 

#cullen rutherford #dragon age #dorian pavus #unpopular opinion #Anonymous

[ellanainthetardis]

Hello - I just read the one-shot with all the Lyssa and Effie moments, and it was perfection. The last scene broke my heart! Can I prompt a story where postMJ Lyssa and Effie become close again, please :) I would love it if it was a longer one-shot about them reconnecting, but I will take anything. I also have my final exam for medical school next week, so would love it if you could make an exception and post it early. Completely understand if don't want to do that though, I will wait patiently.

This is clearly oneyear late so I hope you passed your exam! And if you did congrats! [X]

Lyssa Flavershym To The Rescue

The knock on the door came just as he wascrossing the hallway from the living-room to the kitchen with two emptybottles. He switched course without thinking twice about it, used by now to peoplebothering him in the middle of the day.

One year after the rebellion, rebuilding wasstill in full swing and the people were still few, it wasn’t uncommon forsomeone to fetch him because they needed muscles in town. He often went withPeeta. It was good for the boy to do somethingand Haymitch liked helping him put the bakery back together but it was moreof a District effort and they alwaysended up helping neighbors with their walls or roofs or whatever needed to befixed.

He glanced at the stairs behind him beforeopening the front door but the house was silent. He resolutely ignored thetinge of worry. Effie hadn’t been down in a couple of days and without herobsessive bouts of cleaning and her nightly tidying up, the house had become amess he was attempting to straighten before she came back to her senses andstarted ranting about how much of a sob he was. Not that she had any right tocall him a sob in his own house, of course, but that was Effie Trinket for you.

She was visiting, or so she insisted. It hadbeen five months now and five months of living in his guest room made it moreor less obvious to him that the arrangement would be permanent.

It had been odd five months too.  

Effie was… not the same. For the children’ssake, she put up a mask of cheerfulness and over the top enthusiasm thatdropped flat as soon as they left the house. Haymitch wasn’t sure they werefooled but they were good enough not to say anything. Peeta was the mostattuned to her needs and he was always very dutiful in making her feel useful,in allowing her that small dignity of being who she chose to pretend she stillwas.

She never bothered pretending for Haymitch.

Oh, she tried sometimes… But there was only somuch pretending she could do when she woke up screaming at odd hours of thenight or when she crawled into his bed still shaking from her nightmare whenshe didn’t simply start moping the floors at two a.m. because she couldn’t bearthe thought of anything being filthy.She couldn’t hide the fact she had become claustrophobic nor the small matterof her needing all doors and windows to be locked at night. She couldn’t hidethe flinches at loud noises or the growing panic in complete silence. Shecouldn’t hide the fact she was terrified of the dark or her new aversion tobeing touched.

It was hard to navigate around her. She triedher best not to take too much room in his house – mainly because she hadinvaded it without his consent, he figured – but it was their limbo of arelationship that was the most complicated. He wasn’t sure what they were,wasn’t sure where they were going from there, if they were going anywhere at all… Former lovers. Roommates.  So much more than that.

Nothing stirred at all upstairs and Haymitchpursed his lips as he pulled the door open. It had been a string of bad daysand he was worried about her. Last time he had checked on her, she had beencurled up under her blankets with a faraway look in her eyes. He hadn’t gottenmore than five words out of her.

He had been expecting one of the men who workedin town or maybe Sae but certainly not the woman who was standing in front ofhis front door.

“Mr Abernathy.” she greeted him quietly with anod.

One glance-over was enough for him to determineshe was Capitol. No wig – they had gone out of fashion or so Effie had informedthem all several times – and tasteful make-up but there was something about herthat didn’t lie. It was in her bearing, the way she kept her chin high and studiedhim as if he was… inferior. She hadglossy straight blond hair kept away from her face with a blue ribbon thatmatched the dress he could guess at under her open white coat. Her purse hadthe gleam of brand new leather, her heels didn’t have a single scratch and thejewelry was probably worth enough to buy his house two times over.

Not only was she Capitol, but she had money.

“What do you want?” he growled.

She was conducting her own inspection and hehad no doubt she was finding him lacking. And why wouldn’t she? His greylong-sleeve shirt had a hole under the armpit – something she could definitelysee given that he was holding the door to bar her entrance – the red and whitecheckered sweatpants were hanging low on his hips because the waistband wasold, he hadn’t bothered shaving since Effie had been locked in her room and thefacial hair was actually starting to itchgiven how out of control it was, his hair was too long, his eyes werebloodshot because he hadn’t been drinking enough, he wasn’t wearing any shoesand, of course, there were the two empty bottles in his hand. And he supposed he wasn’t smelling verynice because he couldn’t remember the last time he had taken a shower That toohad been before Effie had fallen prisoner to her depression.

The woman’s face was somehow familiar but hecouldn’t place it.

“I am looking for Effie Trinket.” she said. Hervoice was sweet and her tone calm but there was steel hidden underneath. “I wastold I could find her here.”

“Press is forbidden to come into the Village.”he growled, taking a threatening step closer. “Get lost before I call thePeacekeepers. And if I see you again…”

“I am not a journalist.” She pursed her lips asif the accusation was actually painful. The pout was familiar. Very familiar.

He studied her more attentively but he reallydidn’t know her. He was fairly confident she hadn’t worked for them during theGames. No stylist or prep team… Not that they were many of them left.

“Lawyer, then.” he sighed. Or court bailiff orwhatever. “Just tell me how much she owns you and I’ll write you a check.”

It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be thelast. The rebels had left her without a penny to her name. They had waiteduntil he had gone back to Twelve with Katniss, far away enough that he couldn’tinterfere again, and then they had seized her – admittedly large – bank accountas well as her apartment and everything worth money that hadn’t yet been stolenin it. There were bills from before the war, huge ones, and debts she hadcontracted afterwards when she had tried to make a life for herself in thecity. Living in the Capitol wasn’t affordable for people who used to be wealthynowadays: they lived in shelters, begged for jobs in the streets and weregenerally having a tough time managing their hard-earned money. Effie hadn’tmanaged to find a job. Nobody wanted to hire her. He wasn’t sure how she hadkept the matchbox she had been living in for so long and he really didn’t wantto ask what sort of arrangements she had had with her landlord. He had beenforced to deal with the man when he had sent him the bill of four unpaid monthsof rent and he hadn’t been impressed.

Most of the time, he tried to keep the moneyproblems away from her. It wasn’t fair, certainly, and Peeta had more than oncetold him she would be angry when she would figure it out, but the crux of thematter was that she had no money, no job and no prospect for now and thattelling her would only force her to ask him for help, which mortified her andleft her uneasy around him. Haymitch would rather deal with this stuff behindher back and face the music later on, once she would be better – or never if she never found out. In hisopinion, he owed her anyway.

The woman’s blue eyes gave him another once-over.“You misunderstand me. I am not a journalist and I am not a lawyer, I wouldsimply like to see Effie Trinket.”

“Why? So you can tell her she’s a traitor toyour precious Capitol?” he scowled. “Get lost, lady.”

He slammed the door in her face and turned aroundto discard the empty bottles, grumbling under his breath about stupid Capitolswho needed their head bashed in a wall to get some sense into them.

He was nowhere near the kitchen door when theknocking started again. Well, it was more of a pounding this time.

“I said get thefuck away!” he shouted, tossing the bottles at the front door, feeling adeep sense of satisfaction when he heard the sound of smashed glass. Theknocking stopped and all that filled the silence was his ragged breathing. Hewaited for Effie to call his name in worry, to ask what was going on, but itdidn’t come. He rubbed his face and let out a sigh. He hated those kinds ofdays. He hated them. It was like shewas trapped somewhere in her mind and there was next to no getting to her.

“I am Lyssandra Flavershym!” the woman snappedthrough the door.

“Congratulations for you ridiculous name!” hespat, prevented from striding there and tearing the door open to physicallyremove her by the sea of glass on the floor. He couldn’t go there barefootwithout hurting himself.

Flavershym. That ringed a bell.

And suddenly he remembered. She was…

“I demand to see my sister at once!” sheinsisted. There was a loud thud andhe figured she had hit the door again. “You cannot keep her prisoner! I will gofetch Peacekeepers! I will…”

Muttering a curse and trying to avoid theshards as much as he could, he carefully made his way to the door and opened itagain. She fell silent mid-threat.

“Thought you weren’t interested in whateverhappened to her?” he accused, glaring at the woman. “Thought you hated her?”

Effie’s mother had come once to the hospital tobeg her to do something about her Gamemaker of a brother-in-law, to use herimaginary influence with the rebels to save him, and, when Effie and Haymitch had told the woman in nouncertain terms that they couldn’t – and wouldn’t – do anything, the Capitolhad stormed out in such a fury Effie had cried for two hours afterwards,swearing her family wanted nothing to do with her anymore. He knew she hadtried to contact them again after her release from the hospital and he knewthey had kicked her out the door. He knew her sister had been particularlyvicious.

Lyssandra had the gracefulness to blush.

It was a pretty blush but, then again,everything about the woman was pretty. She was soft in a way Effie had neverreally been. She looked like one of those old painting. Frail and delicate. Asweet candy.

He understood where the deep-rooted jealousyEffie had always sported for her sister came from but he really couldn’t seethe appeal. He would take Effie and her scars and the dark bags under her eyesany day against this woman who had barely known any hardship in her life.

She had lost her husband, sure, but from whathe had gathered, the husband hadn’t been faithful or particularly nice.

“May I come in?” she asked after clearing herthroat. “I wish to speak to my sister.”

“Yeah, you said.” he sneered, folding his armsin front of his chest, an immovable wall. “What do you want to tell her?”

There was a flash of irritation on her face andthen she flicked her hair back, betraying how nervous she actually was. “I donot think it is any of your business.”

“It’s my business if you’re here to upset her.”he retorted.

She jutted her chin higher in the air in a movethat was so Effie it took his breathaway for a minute. She never did that anymore. She had no fire left in her.Being contradictory just for the sake of the argument wasn’t on the table now.

But it only lasted a second. Then Lyssadeflated, her eyes pleading, her expression helpless in an attitude that, hesuspected, was more her style. She’s thesweet one, he remembered Effie saying once. He didn’t think the openvulnerability was an act designed to move him, at least not a conscious one.

“I do not plan on upsetting her. I simply… Iwould like to see her, to talk to her… To understand why…” Lyssandra stoppedtalking and sighed. “May I come in? Please?”

Haymitch knew better than to trust a charmingface but the woman seemed harmless enough so he stepped aside.

“Mind the glass.” he mumbled, glaring at theshard that had nicked his foot. He was a bit alarmed to see she was carrying asuitcase with her but he didn’t comment on that just yet, a bit too afraid thatshe would settle in his other guest room. Trinket women liked to do that, itseemed. “I’m gonna see if she wants to see you.” he told her, gesturing at herto go in the living-room. “If she wants you to leave, you’re out the door,understood?”

Lyssandra nodded once and stood there,clutching the handle of her suitcase, looking terribly lost in the living-room,as if not quite certain she ought to sit or not. He didn’t tell her to makeherself at home and her manners didn’t allow her to simply take the liberty todo so.

He took the steps two at a time and strode toEffie’s room.

“Hey, sweetheart…” he called ahead, not tostartle her. She didn’t even blink when he walked in though. She was staring atthe wall, curled up in the middle of the bed. She was wearing one of hisflannel shirts, the same she had been wearing as a pajamas for a few days now,and she looked so small in it… The breakfast tray he had carried up earlier hadbeen left untouched on the nightstand and he swallowed back his irritation. Itwasn’t just the wasted food, it was the fact she wasn’t eating properly whenshe was far too thin. “Someone’s there to see you.” He crouched next to the bedbut there was no visible reaction. “Your sister’s here. Lyssandra? Says shewants to see you.”

He brushed her tangled hair back, letting hisfingers trail down her cheek.

“Come on, Effie.” he sighed. “I know it’sdifficult but you need to come back, yeah? Wake up. Princess…”

No amount of pleading worked, though. Her eyesbriefly flickered to him once and she leaned a little into his hand but it wasall she consented to give him. Maybe if he had curled up behind her and heldher for a while… But he had tried that the previous day and it hadn’t worked.And chances were it would only make it worse anyway. It was one thing when shesought him out for hugs or sneaked into his bed at night and asked him to holdher, it was another to do it without her consent. She tended to freak out.

“Alright.” He was frustrated beyond measure buthe stood up before he could lose his temper. It wasn’t her fault. “Maybelater.”

She would snap out of it eventually.

He took the tray back down with him and, out ofsheer annoyance, tossed the lot in the sink. Cups and glasses broke but it wasthe theme of the day apparently. He felt like punching something. He dropped ona chair and grabbed a nearby bottle, contemplating the idea of calling the kidsover while taking a sip. He had asked them to keep their distance when it hadbecome clear it would be a bad day, mindful of her wish to keep her problemsfrom the children, but it had been three days now and the kids would reach her.It was magical. She would put a front for them. She might crash even harderafterwards but he also might be able to get to her in the interval.

A soft cough made him jump to his feet. Heturned around to see the stranger lurking on the threshold.

“I apologize but you were not coming back and…”she started.

“It’s not a good time.” he cut her off angrily.“You should come back another time.”

The woman blinked and then her eyebrows shotup. “You do realize it was a lot of trouble for me to come here, yes? Twelve isnot exactly next door.”

“Do I look like I care?” he spat.

Lyssandra pursed her lips tight. “Enough isenough.”

She turned on her heels and before he hadrealized what she intended to do and given chase, she was halfway up thestairs.

“You get out of my house now.” he warned, grabbing her arm.

She shrugged his hand off, clearly frightenedout of her wits but unwilling to relent. “Do not touch me or I will scream, youoaf! Effie! Effie!”

He didn’t want to hurt a defenseless woman, asannoying as she was, and thus he was forced to follow her close, trying tointimidate her into leaving while actually nottouching her. She was determined, he would give her that.

Once she found Effie’s room, she rushed in,took in the state her sister was in and whirled around, tears in her eyes andan accusing finger jutting into his chest. “What have you done to her? What did you give her? She’s drugged!”

“Didn’t give her shit!” he denied, incensed by that allegation. “She’s just… She’s…She’s fucking traumatized, alright?You’ve got nerves coming here and accusing me of hurting her! You’ve got somenerve!”

“I am taking her back with me!” Lyssandrashouted. “Try to stop me, I dare you! I will come back with soldiers if I haveto! I am taking my sister back home!”

“You’re touching her over my dead body.” hesnarled, his voice dropping to a low dangerous tone. “She’s here ‘cause shewants to be. Your family couldn’t give a rat ass about her and now…”

“But weare her family!” the woman hissed. “And youare no one to her. You have beenkeeping her here against her will. I just knowyou have!”

“Listen, now…” He took a step closer, glaringat her, ready to toss his good intentions out the door and her along with themwhile he was at it.

Effie let out a whine and curled up tighter,making them both shut up. She was trembling.

“Oh, darling!” Lyssandra whispered, hurrying tothe bed.

“Don’t…” Haymitch tried to warn but too late.She touched Effie’s shoulder, probably intending to hug her, and Effie bolted,her eyes wide and unseeing, her breath coming out in pants. She hit the windowhard with her bad shoulder and slid down the wall, jaw clenched in pain. Thepain had the advantage of making her a little bit lucid though. He saw hischance and took it. “Effie.” he said softly. “You’re safe. You’re in Twelve.I’m right here. Nobody’s gonna hurt you. I’m right here.”

She blinked fast, her pants loud in the newlyfound silence. Slowly, ever so slowly, her gaze traveled up until it rested onhim. “Haymitch.”  

It came out strangled.

He smirked. “Yeah. I’m here. You’re safe.You’ve been… You’ve been spacing out for a while, sweetheart. Was gettingworried.”

He didn’t make the mistake of trying to comecloser, not yet, not until she made it clear she wanted him to. Her body wasstill tense.

“How long?” she asked. She closed her eyes andtried to work on her breathing but she ended up gasping air like a fish out ofwater.

“A few days.” he told her.

Lyssandra moved as if to come closer but heglared at her and she must have gotten the message because she stayed put. Theharm was done though. Effie’s eyes had snapped open and she was staring at thewoman as if she was a threat. She didn’t seem to be able to get her breathback.

“Where?” she croaked.

“We’re in Twelve, Effie.” he told her again.“Everything else is over. You’re in Twelve with me.”

“I’m safe?” she insisted.

“Yeah.” he promised. “I’m right here. Won’t letanything happen to you.”

And with that she finally looked at him and herbody relaxed. He took that as his cue and came closer, careful not to make anysudden move. She tensed a little when he placed his hand on her arm but shesoon relaxed.

“I am tired.” she whispered.

“You’re dehydrated and hungry.” he countered.“’Cause you’re a stubborn pain in my ass who doesn’t appreciate my cooking.”

Lyssa gasped in outrage but a small smilefloated on Effie’s lips because she knew he was only teasing.

“I love your cooking.” she denied.

“Good. ‘Cause you’re overdue for somebreakfast.” he retorted. “You think you can stand or you want me to carry you?”

She mused that over for a moment and thenlooped her arms around his neck. He lifted her up swiftly.

“You reek.” she grumbled, wrinkling her nose.

“Yeah, well, you’re a bit ripe yourself.” hesnorted. “Breakfast first. Then I’m gonna run you a bath, alright?”

“Alright.” she agreed easily, resting her cheekon his shoulder.

Her sister was completely forgotten in hissudden hurry to carry her downstairs and get fluids and food into her beforeshe started being contradictory again. He was aware she was trailing behindthem but Effie had yet to acknowledge her presence and he had more pressingworries.

“Why is there glass everywhere?” she asked himwhen they reached the hallway.

“Dropped a bottle.” he mumbled. “Don’t worry,I’m gonna clean it up.”

“You’re barefoot. You shouldn’t be barefoot ifyou dropped a bottle.” she pointed out with concern.

“You’re barefoot too so don’t go walkingaround.” he reminded her because he was certain it wasn’t something she wouldhave thought of. She would have grabbed a broom and tried to clean the mess upout of worry he would hurt himself and never pause to think she might get injured. That sort of thingsslipped her mind nowadays. She couldn’t bear any mess anywhere. He placed herdown on one of the kitchen’s chair and immediately poured her a glass of herfancy orange juice – pulp free – that needed to be shipped straight from thecity. “Drink up.”

She obediently took a sip, which told him shewasn’t as lucid as she should have been yet.

He put bread in the toaster and whipped out thepan to make her eggs.

“Effie?” Lyssandra called uncertainly from thethreshold.

Having mostly forgotten about her, Haymitchglanced over his shoulder with some wariness. Effie really needed to eatsomething and he didn’t want her sister to upset her before he had managed toget her to swallow at least a few bites.

“Look, maybe you could…” he started, ready tooffer the use of the living-room if only it would keep her away for a fewminutes.

“Haymitch, where am I?” Effie asked, cuttinghim off. She was rubbing her face. “I… I think I am in Twelve but…”

“You arein Twelve, sweetheart.” he promised.

“Home?” she whispered.

It was the first time he heard her refer to thehouse as home and it made him feel…Strangely good. He liked that. Theidea that this was her home. Their home. It certainly feel less thana tomb than when he had been living in there alone.

“Yeah. We’re home.” he offered,

“What’s wrong with her?” Lyssandra asked,sounding horrified.

“Nothing’s wrongwith her.” he snapped defensively. “She’s just a bit confused. It’s gonna wearoff in a minute.”

Effie was frowning. “Is she… Is she real?”

Ah. He winced. He should have thoughtof that. She didn’t trust her mind sometimes. “Yeah. I told you your sistercame to see you, remember? She’s real, yeah.”

“Oh, darling…” Lyssandra exclaimed once more,with a little too much dramatic in his opinion. She sat down next to Effie andgrabbed her free hand in hers. Effie eyed her warily, still bringing her glassof orange juice to her lips from time to time, often glancing at Haymitch as ifto make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. If the woman noticed, she didn’t let on.“I came to… Well, I wanted to talk to you about what happened to Rufus but itdoesn’t matter anymore. I had no idea you were so ill. Mother didn’t say. If Ihad known…”

“I am not ill.” Effie refuted with a hint ofher usual haughtiness.

It made Haymitch smirk. He dropped the toastsin a plate along with the eggs and plucked the jar of strawberry jam from thecupboard before dropping everything on the table in front of her. Lyssandrabarely looked away.

“You cannot be held responsible for what youdid, of course. I had no idea…Mother, didn’t say.” the woman insisted. “I am very sorry, darling. If I hadknown…”

“You said that already.” he pointed out,pouring coffee into two mugs. He placed one in front of Effie and kept thesecond one for himself. Effie looked at him with a lifted eyebrow when he satdown and he rolled his eyes, stood up and fetched another cup for her sisterwho didn’t look very grateful about it.

“I will take you home.” Lyssandra declared.

Effie froze and snatched her hand away fromhers. “I am home.”

She glanced at him uncertainly and he noddedonce. It probably wasn’t the right time to tease her about her visiting but it was a shame because shehad been so adamant…

“Do not be silly.” Lyssandra huffed gently.“You need doctors.”

“No. No doctors.” Effie refused quickly,standing up so fast the chair clattered to the floor behind her. She huggedherself and took a few steps away from her sister.

“No doctors.” Haymitch promised firmly.“Sweetheart, nobody’s taking you anywhere you don’t want to go. Sit down andeat something.”

She hesitated for a few seconds before comingback to the table. It didn’t escape his notice that, while she picked up thechair, she chose to sat down next to him instead, on the other side of thetable from her sister. It didn’t escape his notice either that she was sittingcloser than strictly necessary. He simply reached out and dragged her platecloser, as well as her glass of juice and her mug of coffee. He also forced thefork in her hand and pointed at the plate.

She swallowed two mouthfuls, studying Lyssandrawith obvious wariness.

Lyssandra, who clearly wasn’t liking what shewas seeing.

“There were talks of putting her in aninstitution.” he explained because he could understand what it looked like. Effiewas dancing to his tune when she usually was a very independent woman. She hadaccused him of having drugged her earlier and he supposed that was how hisformer escort looked to outsiders right now: drugged, sluggish. It would pass.Hopefully in half an hour, once she was fed and had washed, she would be backto her senses. “Doctors aren’t her favorite people. Don’t upset her.”

“She is not well.” Lyssandra insistedpetulantly.

“Sheis sitting right here.” Effie snapped.  “Whereare your manners, Lyssa?” She pursed her lips and spared him a glare. “It isuseless for me to ask that of you naturally.”He snorted and leaned back in his chair, stretching his arm behind her, makingsure not to crowd her too much. She relaxed and ate another few forkfuls ofeggs. “I am not going back to the Capitol. If that is why you came…”

“I came because… I told you. I wanted tounderstand why you did not help with Rufus.” Lyssa countered. “I…”

“There was nothing Haymitch or I could do.”Effie sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I told Mother… We told Mother… It was complicated enough to keep me from being tried and sentenced at thetime. We did even know for sure if…”

“Wouldn’t have risked my neck for your husbandanyway.” Haymitch cut her off. “I had myfamily to look out for.”

“You are not helping.” she chided him, taking asip of orange juice.

“Ain’t trying to.” he scoffed.

Lyssandra looked hurt, angry and puzzled all atonce. Her face was an open book. It was lucky for her she had been a goodlittle citizen. She would never have made it otherwise.

“I amsorry for your loss.” Effie offered.

A heavy silence fell on the kitchen after thatand, aware of Effie’s uncomfortable fidgeting, Haymitch briefly stood up toturn up the old radio. The volume was soft, it was barely a background noise,but she flashed him a grateful smile anyway.

“I do not think I can eat anymore.” shedeclared ten minutes after that. “It was delicious. Thank you, Haymitch.”

Her plate was still half full and he made aface. “Try to finish the eggs, Effie.”

She shook her head. “I will be sick.”

“No, you won’t.” he sighed. “Come on. Please.”

She let out a sigh of her own and forcedherself to eat what was left of the eggs. She did look a little nauseousafterwards but she also shrugged. “Are you happy now?”

“Ah, sweetheart, you know me…” he teased.“Always the happiest one of the lot.” She chuckled and he smiled because shesounded a lot more like herself now. “Still want that bath?”

She placed a hand on his forearm and squeezedgently. “I can manage. You should clean the broken glass. And put slippers on first.” He rolled his eyes but smirked,watching her stand up. It was only when Lyssandra moved that they both lookedat her, having managed yet again to forget about her. She was very forgettablewhen Effie was in the room, in Haymitch’s opinion. His former escort seemed tohesitate. “Where… I mean… Are you staying for a few days or…”

“I am staying.” Lyssandra confirmed, glancingat him as if daring him to refuse.

He decided to ignore her and finish the foodEffie had left. He didn’t want it to go to waste for a second time.

Effie seemed oblivious to the silent challenge.“Alright. Perhaps you should… You should take my room. It is the mostcomfortable guest room. The other one is very small and it does not have abathroom.”

“I do not want to put you out.” Lyssa protested.

“Oh, it is fine.” she dismissed. “I can sharewith Haymitch.”

He did a double take at that, freezingmid-chew.

“If you are sure.” her sister said, a bitmistrustful, as if she was suspecting him of having planned the whole thing.

Not that he cared.

He was too busy staring at Effie.

She crawled in his bed after nightmares, yes.She tolerated him climbing in with her if he went to comfort her after she hadwoken up screaming. But had no point had she hinted at the both of themstarting the night in the same bed.

And she had offered that so casually…

It almost made him not mind the invasion of his privacy. He had been about to suggestputting her sister in one of the empty houses in the Village instead but heheld his tongue, suddenly more interested in having her over for a few days.

Effie was barely down from her bath, dressed ina bright pink dress and her hair tied in a somewhat fancy bun, when thechildren showed up for lunch. They paused when they saw Lyssandra but soonhurried to greet Effie, fussing over and asking if she felt better. Migraines was the official code name forthat kind of slip and Effie assured them the headache was gone and thatHaymitch had taken admirable care of her while making the rest of the house anabsolute mess.

She was bubbly and very much pulling an act butHaymitch held his peace, mainly because he saw how tentative she was around hersister. She was the perfect poster child for a gracious hostess but she wasalso distant and mistrustful.

There were all very mindful of each others’triggers but Lyssa kept making blunders that had Effie briefly freezing or sentKatniss and Peeta into a sulk. Haymitch navigated it all with the ease ofhabits.

He didn’t think he imagined her sister slowlyrelaxing around him when she finally realized he wasn’t drugging her or keepingher there by duress but was instead taking care of her. Trying to, at least.

Still, it was a bit awkward when bedtime cameto have to dance around each other. It was even more awkward once they were inbed. They stayed on their respective side of the bed and Haymitch felt so… weird.

He rolled on his side to look at her in thesoft glow of the side lamp she needed to sleep. She was staring at the ceilingand only slowly turned her head in his direction after a few minutes.

“It was an odd day, wasn’t it?” she hummed. “Iam sorry about Lyssa imposing. I do not think she will stay more than a coupleof days. She wants to reconnect. I think I would like that.”

“It’s your home too.” he shrugged. “You canhave people over.”

“She is very Capitol.” she pointed outknowingly.

And by that Haymitch figured she meant to sayher sister was fussy and turned up her nose at a lot of things nobody in theDistrict would have taken for granted.

“You are too.” he smirked.

Her eyes studied his face. “She is very pretty.And full of life. And… Sane.”

“You’re not crazy, sweetheart.” he scoffed.

“But she is pretty and lively.” she insisted.

“You’ve got a point?” He rolled his eyes.

“She’s sweet-tempered.” she added. “Andeveryone loves her.”

He wondered briefly if this somehow pointed discourse had anything to dowith her sudden readiness to share his bed.

“Yeah, well… I like my women impossible andbossy so there you have it.” he countered. “What’s this even about?”

She didn’t answer at once. She rolled on herside to face him and reached out slowly, bunching his shirt in her fist. Hedidn’t try to touch her, she was in control there. She set the pace, shedictated what she wanted… He owed her that. For what she had been through, heowed her that.

“You are a good man, Haymitch.” she whispered.

He really wasn’t.

But for her…

For her he was willing to try.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #prompt #post mj #book!verse #lyssa #protective haymitch #haymitch with feelings #hurt comfort #post prison effie #not established

[words-writ-in-starlight]

you know what also pissed me off about supernatural, though? the inability to commit to their own worldbuilding. even while clinging to a static paradigm, where The Masquerade is in full effect, they couldn't be consistent about what sort of underground magic communities do and don't exist. I know this can be blamed on multiple writers and all, but it drives me up the wall. f.ex. witches are All Evil and tend to work alone, until that episode with the familiars when you find a bunch of nice(r)

witches who go to witchbars and hardly ever poison each other’s drinks, oh and also familiars are athing. a while later spike and cordelia are witches who’ve had a tempestuousrelationship for… centuries I think, aka witches can live for a really longtime, so there’s no way the bigger/older ones don't all know each other. thereought to be SOME sort of witch ‘society’, even if it’s just loosecommunication. but no, after this you never hear of witches ever again, muchless familiars or witch

bars. then you’ve gotBela, who caters to rich people who know magical artifacts exist, but there’sno exploration of what that could MEAN – if Bela can hold down a job, thenenough of the country’s elite own and exploit magic stuff that it could –SHOULD – have at least some effect on US politics, as in who gets power.there’s never a whisper of that, but okay, this isn’t exactly the winchesterboys’ social scene. but failing that, some of these magic-obsessed rich peopleshould turn up for a

few episodes, eitherhaunted or else guilty of inflicting a monster-of-the-week on someone. heck,one of them could be a recurring vaguely-helpful character that the boys stopby and menace a bit whenever they need access to some excessively obscureartifact. you already mentioned the mess of all those Alpha Monsters who werepowerful and unkillable and stuff, and had their own dread agendas withpotentially far-reaching consequences for their respective species, and thenjust… vanished. I don’t

even remember how. andthen there’s the hunter community, which is the most inconsistent of all. firstit’s just these two and their dad, and then they start finding out their dad’sold friends were all actually hunters or oracles or whatever. so far so good;these are just Mysteries Of Our Father’s Past, and valid character/plotdevelopment stuff. but there’s Bobby, who Knows Everyone, and Ellen, whose barevery hunter in the country frequents sooner or later, and this means huntersknow each

other, know about eachother, they have a network of communication and they share intel, gossip, tradesecrets. but the moment the bar blows up there’s just no network, noconnection, nothing at all binding hunters together, even though Bobby stillknows everyone and Ellen and Jo are still around and plenty able to found a newbar if they wanted to, or at least keep in touch with at least half of thepeople who used to swing by their bar. oh and also the demons! they talk aboutcomplex politics

happening in Hell, theyhave some sort of prophesied demon queen who takes the body of a young girl andhas glowing white eyes (I don’t even remember what happened to her), they havedemon religion and spirituality to the point where Lucifer is basically DemonJesus – I’m pretty sure this is explicitly stated, Lucifer is to the demonswhat Jesus is to really devout Christians, semi-mythical status and prophesiedsecond coming and everything – and the show makes an effort to flesh out itsdemonic

characters, give thempersonality and desires and drives, and it shows distinct differences in howdifferent demons feel about humanity, and about what they do, and all that. yetdespite all this, the only demon we meet who doesn’t immediately try to murderthe boys is Ruby. no one tries to bargain honestly with the boys, no one butCrowley tries to aim the boys at their own enemies, no one begs for mercy orlies about repentance. nothing. can you imagine if those demons who told Sam totake up

his antichrist mantleand lead a demon army decided that, since their Chosen One was unwilling, theyought to convince him? what if a bunch of demons had started discreetly tailingthe boys, showing up sometimes to rescue them from really bad fights or offerup dead monsters like housecats offering dead birds? ‘hey chosen one, we caughtyou this demon who’s high up in Crowley’s hierarchy, do you want to torture himfor information yourself or do you want us to do it?’ they solemnly swear that

that they’ve stoppedkilling humans, they keep quietly growing in number, and they always scrambefore the boys are conscious enough to kill them properly. sam and dean havemany arguments about whether they were REALLY too concussed to stab theirlatest demonic rescuer and get absurdly angsty and argumentative about it. Iknow my rant has gotten pretty thoroughly disorganized and this is moving backinto must-have-a-static-paradigm territory, but I am a little bitter.

THIS IS ALSO SUCH A GOOD POINT there is just so much to be bitter about with this show, like, good god, you’d think that sooner or later they’d run out of basic narrative rules to fuck up.

Speaking of rules, I think this is a manifestation of one of Supernatural’s wider problems, which is that they just DO NOT SEEM TO UNDERSTAND THE RULES OF THEIR OWN UNIVERSE.  Like, all they’ve REALLY nailed down is that demons can be exorcised, but anything that isn’t a demon is pretty much at the mercy of the plot for A) how powerful it is, B) how hard to kill it is, and C) how ‘human’ it’s considered.  Like, everything from werewolves to wendigos are stated to be at least PART human, but basically their ‘humanness’ and subsequently the amount of sympathy accorded to them is predicated on how benign (or how attractive) they look in their human form.  The magic of this universe is wildly unpredictable--the Winchesters sometimes do/dabble in magic themselves, but we never really learn how magic works.  Does it require a focus?  Does it require badly-pronounced Latin?  Is it an expression of the user’s willpower?  Is it similar to what demons do (implied when All Witches Are Wicked for the first few seasons) or not?  Does it require natural talent or can anyone learn it?  THERE ARE SO MANY QUESTIONS THAT ARE TOTALLY IGNORED.  THEN there’s the question of societies in this supernatural underworld.  Like, I think I’ve expressed in my John Wick comments how much I like functional underworld societies with rules and systems, but honestly it’s CRITICALLY necessary if you’re doing what SPN does and having the society Matter.  I cringe every time I think about how clumsy and slapdash the hunting community was in Supernatural, because it had SO MUCH POTENTIAL, don’t talk to me about it, I made it work better when I wrote my spite novel.  I’m sure I can think of fifty million more incomplete universe rules, but I can honestly feel my blood pressure rising right now so I’m going to stop.

OH MY GOD GUYS, please, if you’re a writer, let me beg you right now in person to figure out the rules of your universe and then commit.  Here are some pointers.

Magic should work in a conceptually similar way to gravity: its rules should be consistent and should be able to be broadly extrapolated from the general effect, and if you’re going to BREAK those rules you’ve got to have a damn fine reason.  

The sliding scale of ‘humannness’ should...slide less, to be completely honest, work your shit the fuck out EARLY or make working your shit the fuck out a plot point (please see Stormdancer for a good example).  

If you’re dealing with questions of what makes someone human (@SPN FOR LIKE FOUR FUCKING SEASONS) then you should actively question like “Hey, my dude, can we morally kill this person for something they have no control over” unless your character took the trait ‘Callous’ somewhere in their history (which is also fine).

If you have an underworld society--or any society tbh???--WORK YOUR SHIT OUT.  How do they work together (ex: hunters pretending to be ‘the boss’ when someone calls the number on that fake business card)?  How do they support each other (ex: safehouses? maybe? this is never discussed in SPN? and I hate it?)?  What are the things people differ on (ex: whether or not to murder the Winchesters, which, like, I know you’re supposed to be against that because they’re the protagonists, but by the time I bailed I def wanted someone to shoot them)?  Is there an assumption of free exchange of favors or is there a strict financial/bargaining system?   How much does one person vouching for another matter in the community?  ANSWER SOME BASIC QUESTIONS FFS

Finally, most crucially, for the love of all that is good, Pick A Plot.  One plot.  It can have subplots (example: an overarching plot broken up by smaller missions, a la your average TV show) or multiple acts (as in a play, where you’ve got a couple major pieces that assemble into the main plot, like Much Ado where you’ve got (roughly) the matchmaking, the wedding, the vengeance, and the resolution), but it should be One Plot and you need to tie up those motherfucking loose ends.

This has been “Hey look turns out that 6K later I have Even More Complaints about Supernatural” with Moran.

#the inevitable supernatural tirade #the graveyard of shows with potential and terrible execution #also i'm into your plot rewrite finx #i'm real into it #it's very similar to my plot rewrite #honestly can we all just agree that this show would be 1000x more interesting if sam had an army #like #please #just let me have a show where someone gets told they're the antichrist and responds with #'cool cool that's the worst thing that's ever happened to me' #'but i'll just take this army of demons off your hands and use it to get my stuff done' #or alternately #'cool cool so turns out i've been pseudo adopted/stalked by ten thousand demons' #'and i can make use of that or just trail them behind me like a toy on a string but they're pretty serious about it' #I'M BITTER #aethersea #asked and answered

[anthrat]

The Akatsuki members as high-school students

Has this been done before? Probably! Do I care? No, because these are my terrible headcanons and nobody can take them from me.

A/N: This has been in my drafts for a long time, probably since early February. I’ve been lacking motivation to do anything at all for months and lo and behold, I find this basically finished piece bar one character. I really, really want to start writing again but I’m struggling to think of ideas, so if you have any requests for future headcanons/one shots/etc feel free to slide me a message or something :)

He's definitely the generic super intelligent kid who gets straight A's in pretty much every subject. All of his notes are really well organised, he keeps bullet journals and everything is colour coded - mans notes are literal art. His handwriting is definitely beautiful, we're talking professional calligrapher here.

All of his equipment is immaculate, he cries if one of his books gets a crease or something on it somehow. If you accidentally nudge him or ruin his notes he will silently hold a grudge against you forever - he probably won't act on his grudge though, he just wants to blend in and he dislikes conflict in general.

Despite being fully aware of his intelligence he hardly ever speaks up in classes. He only really speaks when spoken to and so is renown as the token quiet kid. I also envision him as being super pretentious, although he doesn't show it he definitely thinks he's better than everyone else.

His favourite subject would be English because he enjoys analysing anything and everything. If you're friends with him he will make comments on how random pieces of media etc. are a representation of -insert important world issue or theory.- He'd also like art despite it being the only subject he's not very good at. All his art is abstract, he will draw a pink square and claim it represents a patriarchal society.

Doesn't have many friends because he isn't very talkative, spends most of his time at school alone doing schoolwork. Sees school purely as an educational setting and so doesn't see the point in making an attempt to be social.

All of his school equipment looks like it's been mauled by 300 dogs because its all second/third/fourth+ hand. Man would never pay full price for a textbook. He definitely steals all the faculty equipment too. You could fill an entire room with the amount of stationary this man has but he will NEVER lend it to anyone else. If he does lend you something it's because its either A) broken B) barely functional (so like pens which can write 2 letters before running out) or C) you're giving him something better in return/paying for it (even then he'll probably take whatever he lent you back without you realising)

He also definitely runs mini-shops in school where he'll sell stolen equipment and things like sweets/chewing gum/trendy items (he made bank when fidget spinners were a thing) for like triple what they're actually worth.

His favourite subject is definitely history (He's a crusty dusty old man so of course) but he will never admit this. He takes business and economics but hates them, he's already done all of his own research into the subjects and is only doing them to get the qualification. Definitely complains about how he already knows it all already and it's a waste of time for him to learn it again. His only conversation topic is him talking about how he's going to set up his own business as soon as he leaves school.

Is very intelligent but only gets average grades in most subjects because he refuses to try if he dislikes the subject or sees it as a waste of time.

Watched DeathNote once and now thinks he's an actual real life version of Light Yagame. Carries around his own DeathNote and threatens to write people's name in it.

Convinced that he's been bestowed with supernatural powers, whenever he speaks he does lots of flashy hand gestures, - think generic cool-dude protagonist poses - these change depending on what piece of media he's currently obsessed with. His personality also changes alongside the poses.

Basically what I'm trying to say is he's the over-saturated 'weird anime kid' with a touch of superiority complex. Although, he's super confident and has absolutely 0 shame in this fact.

Bless his little heart, he loves writing but is the definition of 'uses complicated words without knowing what they mean'. He's still decently smart though. His grades would probably be pretty average because he struggles to apply himself properly. His favourite subject would definitely be something like sociology where he can freely express his profound ideas, even if some of them are completely god awful. He'd also enjoy any subject which gives him creative freedom such as art or English.

Cannot see this lad as anything but a jock. He loves sports, lives and breathes them. He's probably a member of practically every single sports team and is surviving on the basis he has a sports scholarship of some kind.

Despite him being a jock he'd be the most approachable out of all the Akatsuki members. He's the kind of guy who no matter who you are he'd always be happy to crack jokes and talk with you. He definitely brings in way too much food, he's that dude who brings a whole mini banquet to school every day for no discernible reason. He's always happy to share though, he's definitely the kind of guy who if he saw someone sat by themselves at lunch he'd sit with them and offer them food.

His grades would be a little on the lower side because most of his free time is taken up with all his sports, however, he'd still work hard at his academics regardless. If anything this man is probably the most dedicated, he would hate the fact that he's falling behind all his classmates but at the same time would rather die than give up any of his extracurricular activities.

He'd be fairly popular because of his naturally easygoing and humorous nature, but people would rarely ever invite him to events as they'd just assume he was busy.

Konan is an absolute babe, the kindest and most caring person in the whole school. Forgotten your lunch? She'll buy you some or give you her own. Didn't do your homework? Bitch will give you hers to copy, if it's an essay or something she'll sit with you and help you write it. Looking a little upset? Konan's right there to try and cheer you up even if you aren't friends.

Despite how wonderful and 100/10 a person she is she probably won't have many close friends. She'll get used a lot by others who take advantage of her good nature. She's smart enough to know what they're doing but she doesn't care, she's happy to be of help to anyone even if they don't appreciate it.

She's a bit of a teachers pet though, she's on super good terms with every teacher in the school even if she doesn't take the subjects they teach. Most of her breaks/lunches would be taken up by her helping with display boards or whatever.

Her favourite subject would be geography, she'd really enjoy learning about different cultures and societies. I can see her just really enjoying learning about how rivers are formed and stuff like that as well. Her least favourite would be something like math which is only fact based, she enjoys being able to look at things from different perspectives.

Also bitch would bake all the time, literally every lesson she'd whip out a box of cakes/cookies/anything else she'd baked the night before to share with the whole class.

Carries knives around with him because he thinks they make him look cool. He can and will whip one out at any given opportunity so he can flex a knife trick on you. His knife tricks suck though, he always drops them or cuts himself, if you try and walk away he'll beg you to stay claiming that fortieth time's the charm or something.

He never shows up to lessons, he doesn't even know what one is. If you ever ask him what subjects he takes he'll look at you blankly and ask what you mean. If he ever is in a lesson it's because he was dragged there by a member of staff. Honestly, the few lessons he's actually present for are so chaotic teachers find themselves praying he doesn't show up. Being as he never willingly shows up he'll never know what subject it is, and he'll ask insanely bizarre questions un-ironically because he gives no fucks and has no idea what is happening. For example, you'll be learning about arteries in biology and he'll ask something like "What ingredients do we need?" because he'll have confused arteries with artichoke and think he's in a home economics lesson.

Despite being the weird knife kid he's pretty popular, he's so completely brain dead and unaware of his surroundings that its impossible not to get along with him. He doesn't have the critical thought to bully anyone and so even if he tries to be horrible it always comes off as though he's just trying to be funny.

Oh dear oh lord what can I say about Zetsu? Zetsu is an absolute shit show of a student. Black Zetsu I can see as being very academic focussed, with their favourite subjects being religion, politics and some form of economics. I imagine they’d be very active within school politics/religious scenes, probably the head of some sort of group for both.

Black Zetsu would also be interested in applying for positions such as Head of Year, Class Representative and anything similar. They’re a big control freak and as a result have basically 0 friends. People would find them overbearing and awful to be around. They’re the incredibly opinionated kid who dismisses anything which they don’t personally agree with.

White Zetsu on the over hand, hoo boy. Class clown obviously. The living bane of Black Zetsu. If Black Zetsu wants class representative then you know people will vote for white Zetsu instead because he’s infinitely more popular. He’s incredibly weird but in such an innocent and goofy way they’d have a large group of friends. They wouldn’t be popular per say, but they’d be friends with practically everyone.

Their favourite subject would probably be biology because sex jokes, but I also think they’d enjoy English because uhh… Sex jokes. I just can’t see White Zetsu taking school even slightly seriously.

He basically lives in the art department. If you walk near him he will tag along and start talking to you about art, it doesn’t matter who you are you will be forced to listen to his speech.

Incredibly confident and has no issue starting a conversation with anyone. He's definitely the type of person who every time you see him he'd be with a completely different group of people, whether they want him there or not.

Despite his weird constant art rants he'd be the life and soul of the party. He's always fun to be around purely because of how much energy he has. He'd be the kid who makes everyone laugh completely on accident, although people would probably be laughing more at him than with him.

He'd probably get invited to lots of places by other kids just so he could be the butt of every joke. He wouldn't mind though, he'd brush it off and probably enjoy the attention he gets from it.

Most of his friends would end up being people who know nothing about art though, all the students who participated in any artistic subjects would stay far away in fear of him starting another argument about art.

If the art class ever does clay his has to be put in the kiln separately because it always blows up. He also has a habit of 'accidentally' damaging other people's art if he dislikes it. Eventually he would mellow out and start appreciating other forms.

Nobody knows who he is, people will have sat next to him for years and won't even know his name. The amount of times his name is called in the register and people will pipe up with "who's that?" or "didn't he move to another school?" is genuinely concerning. He doesn't care though, he'd rather go through school completely unnoticed.

Excels at all subjects (besides sports, he's never showed up to a PE lesson because of 'health reasons') despite putting very little effort into academics. His favourite subjects would be biology and math. He'd absolutely hate art as a subject, preferring to do art in his free time rather than make it into a chore at school. He'd have been put in Deidara's class at least once and it would have completely ruined all enjoyment of art as a subject for him. He'd also hate any subjects which prompt discussion such as English or sociology, he doesn't have any opinions on them and he doesn't care to listen to anyone else's.

Honestly, dude is the definition of a background character at school. He just simply does not exist, and I have mad respect for him. On the off chance anyone even tried to speak to him he'd probably completely ignore them, the only communication he has at school is through emails with teachers. He has 0 interest in making friends when they have nothing in common with him.

Another character sort of hard to pinpoint. He’d probably be somewhat similar to White Zetsu, but not quite as popular. He’d be a right teachers pet, with few friends his own age. He’d probably spend spend all his breaks and lunches with teachers in their classrooms, offering to help them with display boards etc.

Despite being a teachers pet he wouldn’t be academic whatsoever. He’d always try his best but bless him, he’s terrible at every subject and ends up constantly making a fool of himself. He’s definitely the sort to raise his hand to make a really great point, but his really great point is basically repeating the lesson objective. When studying of mice of men he definitely asked “what’s the name of Curly’s wife’s husband?”

His favourite subject, regardless of his ineptitude would be drama. He’d always be the most melodramatic and over the top in every character he played, not really caring what other people thought of him. In fact, that’s probably his best feature. Despite his lack of popularity he’d always unapologetically be himself, his goofy and over the top self.

SPOILERS AHEAD:

If we’re thinking more about Obito, I’d like to imagine for the sake of this headcanon Tobi is what he’s like during lower school years and then suddenly one summer he comes back and he’s completely matured into this foreign character unrecognisable to nobody.

He’d become incredibly serious, forgoing the role of energetic teachers pet to a much more muted one. He’d still be just as terrible at all his lessons, and still spend most of his time around teachers rather than others his age but he’d no longer have that fun spark. He’d probably start caring greatly about what people thought of him so his latter years would be trying to stay under the radar completely.

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