#what the hell about that is BORING.

[7-oh-ta1]

This is how Alistair looks in the game you can date him in ☆

ROUND 2 MATCH 20

Damien propaganda:

“I LOVE DAMIEN LAVEY A LOT !! he is such a silly gremlin of a guy I love him + he is my favourite character ever actually. He's the prince of the 8th circle of hell and his dads are the kings and they all love eachother a lot, it's really silly. when he was younger, to rebel he literally broke off one of his horns so that's why he has . one and a half.

he's really into drag, one of his endings in Prom is about how he wanted to do something with make-up/hair etc as a career but he felt as if his dads wanted him to solely take over as king of the 8th circle BUT that wasn't the case. at the end of the ending his dad's r like "what you can do what you want". ALSO we see him in drag in Monster Roadtrip and oh great heavens.

He is so silly. he has horrible . wilderness. instincts ...? because of the whole prince thing and it's really pathetic I love him. 

I could go on and on oh my god . one final thing uh also in roadtrip during one of the talks at the rest stop with him he calls you (the player) a silly dumbass and OHHH MY GOD I went bonkers I love him a lot”

“He's v cool and acts tough, but has a secret passion for hairstyling and make up that he hides cus he doesn't want to disappoint his dads who want him to rule over hell after them. Also he constantly commits arson, so that's fun :)”

Alistair propaganda:

“I love his puns and sarcasm. He may be kinda dumb and like the epitome of boring white boy to some people, but i just love the humour he brings to the party.”

[buwheal]

I dont know how to feel about how you can see the adjustments and the little added features accumulate over time........its almost scary..... but i thought it was interesting.. so heres The Page at the end of its lifecycle before i open a new one and perpetuate my endless purgatory.

[torchickentacos]

i will always shout praises of bi4bi but given recent discourse I feel the need to say that I love bi4het too! I just love bisexuality in general in its many forms, and anyone who only likes it when it's 'queer enough' for them is biphobic. Bisexuals should be able to bring their LaMe CiShEt BoYfRiEnD to pride without being made to feel like spectators and outsiders to their own event.

[insomnya777]

joel etho single dads au .........

[necrotic-nephilim]

there is not enough femslash in batcest circles. the girls deserve to be just as weird about each other as the boys are. if BruDick gets to be weird father/son/brothers/lovers/friends/rivals/soulmates then it is only fair that Babs/Cass get to be mother/daughter/sisters/lovers too. Something about that deep intrinsic but undefinable love that is born out of trauma, especially if you consider Cass not knowing what healthy love looks like in the first place. i think it's fun and deserves just as much fandom content.

besides that, you can get even more niche with rarepairs like Helena/Steph. Huntress/Spoiler: Blunt Trauma is already a fantastic comic and even though it's their only real canon interaction it has so much potential. very comparable to TimJay in how Helena tries to get Steph to understand her morals and the corruption you could play with it.

batman: huntress/spoiler: blunt trauma (1998)

that comic also highlights on how both Steph and Helena are outcasts of the Batfamily and don't have the approval of Bruce to be doing what they do in "his city". I think there's so much Potential in Helena taking Steph under her wing because Bruce won't let her in and it becomes a weird codependent toxic sapphic mess. I think the protectiveness Helena feels over Steph from the get-go is so clear and the way she wants to look out for Steph, wants to make sure Steph understands the real world? I love them. Helena should be allowed to steal Steph, actually. I think it'd be fun.

there are a lot of other possibilities too like Babs/Steph or even getting weird with Helena Bertinelli/Helena Wayne and the existential question of "is it selfcest or not." But these two specifically live in my head rent-free, especially Helena/Steph and one day I'll convince everyone else to ship it too.

[eraserheadadult]

i gotta be so real with you i hate gumball and marshall lee so much i wholly detest them i have never been more homophobic towards two men ever in my life. fandoms already dont care about f/f ships abd cant go ten seconds without talking about men a canon genderbent yaoi version of the main lesbian relationship in the series is a nightmare scenario and we’ve lived it all these years.

[luceafarul-de-dimineata]

Whb kings as books I have to read for the bac exam (vibes only tbh)

Lucifer - Luceafarul

They're the same, your honor! Both mean the same thing, morning star. It's a love story about the incompatibility between the genius and plebea (how Lucifer prob sees everyone else). Also, Luceafarul is my favorite and Lucifer's my fav king so there it goes.

Leviathan - Plumb

Dormeau adanc sicriele de plumb, they sure did. Bacovia lives in a grave, so does Leviathan. Also, they're both toxic and symbolists and pretencious tuberculosis survivors. It's a poem about being lonely and stuck in a toxic headspace, hey, look, just like Leviathan

Asmodeus - Ion

A man gets corrupted due to his lust for land and rapes a woman in order to get it, then proceeds to become amantul of his previous lover before getting hit in the head of a hoe. Tell me what about this doesn't scream Asmodeus to you! I think this is the only bac novel where they actually have sex. In Moara cu noroc and Ultima noapte de dragoste intaia noapte de razboi they cut to black before the actual sex can happen. But not in Ion! Rebreanu graces us with his wonderful sex scene of a man coercing a woman into fucking next to her sleeping dad.

Mammon - Moara cu noroc

It's about greed, they explicitly say it. The whole getting corrupted by greed (just like in Ion, oh my god, it's almost like they have the same theme). All of the characters eventually let their greed control their actions and it's both about the greed for money and love. Just a good fit.

Satan - Baltagul

It's a story about a woman getting revange for her husband's murder. The part where Vitoria just stared emotionlessly at the murderer getting mawled alive by her husband's dog was so fucking good- reminded me of Satan for some reason. There's a sense of community in the book, but also a very clear wrath that comes from the desire for justice.

Beelzebub - Morometii

Hear me out! Morometii is really funny, but in the cruder way than something like Caragiale's writing. The story does what every good novel does and randomly starts talking about the backstory of a character we met in a flashback, it really feels like Preda had some ADHD. It's about a disfunctional family in the interbelic era, its really Beel coded if you ask me

[karizipan]

🦐🦐🦐

[gideonisms]

Tbh I think we have had all the thoughts we possibly could have about orpheus and eurydice. I'm going to start making everything about grendel's mother from beowulf

[moeblob]

Look, there's so much that I love about certain otome but I really don't finish every route every time ?? But 7'scarlet, Steam Prison, and Norn9 all got completed! So they get the rec spots!

Honorable mentions: Nightshade (ninja otome, same artist as Norn9 thus I love it even if I haven't completed every route - Switch) Period Cube (I also fully complete it and the art is very nice imo and I enjoyed it a lot but it has really bad reviews from like. everywhere I see. but here's my shill of appreciation anyway - PS Vita) Sweet Fuse (it's just really fun to yell at men for being sexist - PSP)

But genuinely, there's a lot out there! Do the research on the game before you buy them! Not all otome are for everyone.

[romanticatheartt]

Anti Amren crowd are the most unserious people ever lmao

[youvegot-timetogrow]

Viktor goes through immeasurable amounts of pain and a change that literally remakes his biological composition, forever altering the very nature of his being both physiologically and psychologically, after years upon years of a rapidly advancing illness that left him with months to live while slaving away in a lab for the progress of a city that could not and would not ever help him, sees his colleague literally reduced to ash in front of his very eyes by the thing that is both his life's work and his only chance of survival, all the while his supposed partner is too busy politicking to realise what the hell is going on with him until it's too bloody late

... So how is it that as soon as he comes back from the grave the only things I see discussed are... his ships??? The "affection" line with Jayce, him seeing Sky as the manifestation of the hexcore...surely there's more to it than romance??

Sure the divorce jokes are funny as hell and the implications of the affection between Jayce and Viktor are layered but surely we're not going to reduce that line to merely an admission of feelings of sorts? He was his lab partner and was too self absorbed to realise Viktor was literally decaying and dying in front of him. Viktor was on a ticking clock and Jayce was too taken by his political career to prioritise his partner's literal life. Would that not infuriate you?

The Sky thing is possibly even worse because like... She literally died in front of him, directly because of his actions? Like she was a full person and now she's not anymore and she had dreams and aspirations and ideas that he (and we the audience by extension: reminder that we don't know shit about Sky!! She's barely a character!!! And I believe that's intentional!!!) never knew about and now all those possibilities are gone because of him? Would that not break you? Not to mention that for all we know part of her might still linger inside the hexcore. Is she really there? Is he ascribing some ulterior meaning to her as the one he could not save? Why does she not wear glasses anymore? Is that what she looked like or is Viktor making her up into something she was never?

All this being said listen I'm not the fandom police and people can enjoy and interpret media however they want to! Ship away!! but is there really nothing more to those scenes than that?

[t00thpasteface]

"oooh dinosaurs used to be so big and scary and now they're just boring birds" why don't you sit outside and admire the highly specialized physiological and behavioral adaptations of the birds in your local area and maybe you'll calm down

[sky-forest-inn]

Hey fun plural question… have yalls ever had a headmate/alter/part/etc from a media you’ve never touched in your life… and if so, did you ever get into said media because of them? Feel free to ramble about it if so :]

[nobodysdaydreams]

One of my favorite things about being Christian is being able to say joyfully, genuinely, and hopefully to all my enemies “See you in heaven!” because in a world of “see you in hell” and “kys” and “the world would be better without you” I’d choose “never give up on yourself, this world is better with you in it, it is never too late for you to embrace the God-given goodness inside you, and I would be so excited to discover I was spending eternity with you” every single time.

[ehlnofay]

my tes secret santa for @anotherclassicpretence! truth be told I've been having a tad bit of writer's block lately but some of your prompts were VERY interesting (I liked the idea of writing delphine before the main quest a lot... this more or less counts) so I hope I've done them justice. hope you're having a splendid holiday season!

...

“Steady on, Hilde,” Delphine says with a brusque, manufactured sort of calm. “You’ll do yourself a mischief.”

It's a relief, she thinks, that the day Hilde has elected to barge in with world-upending news is a convenient one; it isn’t as though Riverwood is the kind of place to attract crowds, most of the time (part of the reason she chose to live here at all) but the inn is unusually quiet now. Orgnar is nominally organising something in the cellar, which means that he’s spending an hour swapping two bottles around and calling it a day, and the dining hall is warmed to a swelter with the ever-going hearthfire, and utterly empty. No-one’s come in for lunch yet. No rooms rented out last night, either, so it’s all silent on that front; it’s just Delphine and her wet cotton cloth, wiping down the stained tables till they shine, and Hilde with her hair wrapped and her string of beads tangling round narrow, hard-knuckled fingers. She’s sat herself on the chair with the wobbly leg; it needs fixing soon. Ordinarily, Delphine would herd her onto another, but right now she doesn’t think there’s anything in the world that would get Hilde to listen.

“Hark at her!” she complains to the bead-string - all marbled glass dyed blue and red and yellow, clinking together on their leather cord. “Do a mischief - do a mischief - it’s as if she can’t bloody hear me -”

Delphine swipes the cloth over the chip in the corner of the table. “I hear you,” she replies (does she ever hear her). Hilde’s hands are white where the necklace bites into her skin; her lips are pinched into a puckered line. Her eyes are red-rimmed and fierce. “Hilde. I’m going to get you a drink to calm your nerves, and then we’ll talk it over properly, all right?”

“Talk it over,” Hilde repeats, high and scornful, and then her face screws up quite suddenly as if all the fight has fled it - the wrinkles in her cheeks deepening to uneasy valleys, knuckles pressed to the thin slat of her mouth, beads digging hard into her cheek. “Nine have mercy… thank you, Delphine.”

The inner corner of Delphine’s lip snags, near imperceptibly, between the blunt ends of her canines. She nods once, and she ducks behind the bar, folding the cloth with damp precision as she goes. The cask of ale is near empty, the mugs lined up on their shelf, sparkling clean, cutlery rattling around in its tin. It's not fancy - Riverwood is a small, old town, built on the bones of an older one, and no matter how well-run the inn has been since she bought it it's not exactly a prime destination, but it's a good sort of a place. And innkeeping is decent work. Keeps you busy. Keeps your ear to the ground. Gives you something to focus on, in the meantime -

When Delphine grabs a tankard, she notes with some incredulity that her hand is trembling. She stills it. She pours the ale until the cup rim is flecked with froth.

(Gives you something to focus on in the meantime, in between real work, while you're waiting -)

(There is a feeling rising in her body, foaming like the ale; a sour, stomach-turning excitement, as if she's in her twenties again and wet behind her ears, biting back all the intrigue. Like she has an unlined face and fresh armour and is standing again in line for her induction ceremony. Like she's staring something in the face and thinking, finally.)

Delphine caps the cask. She is not in her twenties, and she is not staring anything down; bar Hilde, a seventy year old woman with tannin-stained hands and the latest in a line of tall stories. Delphine didn't get this far (how far?) (still alive, isn’t she) through credulity. She's a pragmatist through and through - won't believe anything she hasn't seen evidence of with her own eyes; and yet.

And yet.

She sets the mug down on the table; a pale and lukewarm drop slides down the pewter, just next to the handle. She'll need to wipe it all down again, after this.

Hilde takes it, absent-minded; the beads slither from where they’re strung around her hands to rest in a smooth curve over her chest. Her hands are shaking - she doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does, she doesn’t stop them. There is a look about her, all of a sudden, that seems dreadfully, fixedly haunted, like a woman looking down the barrel of a cannon, some rapid-rigged explosive, something to level the town. Like she’s caught the apocalypse’s eye. Delphine reaches out, perfunctory, and pats the back of her hand; Hilde grimaces and downs half her tankard in one long, desperate swig.

Light’s coming in through the window-slats up by the rafters, dull and gold, dust motes in the shafts of it. It makes the white wimple of cloth swaddled hastily around Hilde’s head shine in places.

“Big as the mountain,” she mumbles into the lip of the tankard, fingers wrapped tight around its handle, “black as night - flew right over the barrow like something fit to block out the sun.”

Delphine’s teeth scrape over that spot at the corner of her lip. She can’t help but say, “Are you sure -”

“I know what I saw,” Hilde snaps. Her knuckles and lips are blanched and colourless. Liquid sloshes over the edge of her cup with her sharp, abortive gestures. “I saw a dragon.”

Delphine is very careful not to let her face do anything at all, there.

(It’s adrenaline, she knows; the pointed, muscle-coiled readiness to move - to act - to make a plan in service of a solid end and carry it off perfectly; the comfort of seeing possibility roll out before her like a long many-doored hallway, like a road she might be able to walk instead of these four walls she’s circled for too many years. Innkeeping is decent work - keeps her ear to the ground - keeps her busy in the interim, but it’s not what Delphine does, not what she’s been trained to do; not a purpose, not something to strive for, and oh, Divines -)

(None of this is substantiated. Delphine is not a rash and green youth, not anymore and not again, and she will not start running away with silly fantasies before she’s checked anything at all; she has had her fill of disappointment, and should know better than to invite it - should know better than to start spinning grand plans, before she’s even sent out some missives to the pale cobweb of contacts she has left - over the barrow; west, then - is there a significance, to the barrow? Does she have anything about it in her side room? Nine, it’s times like this she misses the old library and the mad old codger that kept it, and, no. No.)

(Yes.)

“It’ll come back,” Hilde’s saying with fearful certainty; lips flecked with spittle and beer-foam, hands still shaking. “It’ll come back, and it’ll kill us all, and then you’ll believe me -”

“I believe you,” Delphine tells her, and it is inexplicably, regrettably true. (She’s thinking about the library. She’s thinking about the dragonlore. She’s thinking that if dragons are back, someone will have to do something about it - and oh Divines how she has missed being the one to do something about it.)

Her hands are still, but only through some effort.

She feels like she’s been dozing for twenty years and only now has been shocked awake.

Hilde looks at her, white-mouthed and white-scarved; she frowns, a tense, sour thing, and she says doubtfully, “You look like you need a drink.”

Delphine laughs. It’s a short, gruff bark of sound. Her hands are flat on the tabletop; her hair is coming loose in thin wisps from the tight knot at the base of her skull. Sunlight trickles through the windows, golden-fresh. “No,” she says. “No, thank you, Hilde, I'm good."