#Too complicated apparently

[inayaeza]

Angry dealing with postal services noises

[egophiliac]

Hi it's just to let you know that the official romanization of Revaan's name is Raverne ! Also they have romanized Baul's name to Baur !

Twst coming back at us again with the least expected romanization! thank you everybody (oh god my inbox) (no it's great, I literally asked for this and the reactions have been INCREDIBLE, thank you all!)

I do like Raverne though, I think it's got a nice fancy sound to it! (I had kinda suspected it was going to be an R instead of an L, so the fact that it's SO close to Laverne except for that is hilarious to me personally.) and Dragoneye Duke is honestly probably the best translation for his title, I wasn't envying the localizers that one. :') Baur instead of Baul I was NOT expecting, but in retrospect I think his name's supposed to be a reference to the Bauru crocodile, so that actually makes way more sense!

someone else also said Meleanor has become Maleanor, which is the REALLY weird one to me, because I was so surprised it was written as Mel instead of Mal in the first place?! oh god no I can't decide which one I like better. 😭 (I wonder if they might change it to Mal...they have made romanization changes before) (like I remember House of Distraction being corrected to House of Destruction in Playful Land) (I did check and she's still Mel for now, but I dunno, they might Mal her up and some point and save me from having to make a decision about which one to use) (HECK I CAN'T DECIDE)

uhhhh thank you for letting me ramble about anime names, let's just say MONOGRAMMED SWEATERS FOR EVERYONE

[sorunort]

i said in another post i was rping loop in a multifandom rp group and i'm having a lot of fun! so much fun that i made a giant doodle sheet of loop's glitch....that i haven't even gotten to rp yet but am so excited to im getting carried away. whoops

(in the context of the group, think of glitching like in spiderverse, they don't belong in this new world/dimension so their existence rejects it. we can do whatever we want for glitches so i just made loop's that they get their humanity back. yknow. for misery whenever they unglitch and go back to being a star [thumbs up])

i think my favorite here might just be the Go there Go Into the Dark catcrumb edit lmao

[sergle]

this stupid fuckin youtube recommendation was specifically formulated in a lab to piss me off

"RED STATES"? YOU MEAN THE MAJORITY OF THE ENTIRE UNITED STATES???????????

[short-wooloo]

The sith are not an oppressed culture forced underground by the Jedi

They're a deranged cult devoted to creating tyranny which they rule, murdering anyone they deem an enemy, and selfishly indulging in their wants no matter what it costs everyone else

Them being in hiding was their choice, they're a conspiracy, a shadow hiding within the society they are deliberately trying to destroy/warp into their image

[sundry-whovengerslocked]

Doctor Who "Rogue" memes

I've made memes. enjoy.

(contains slight spoilers)

firstly, ones that are more encompassing:

regarding the episode itself:

and finally, Captain Jack Harkness stages of grief:

[afewproblems]

Season 2 Halloween AU Part Four

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

A very big thank you to @strangersteddierthings for chatting with me today and being such a great sounding board for the next update!

Synopsis: What if Eddie had been at Tina's Halloween Party in Season Two? Featuring Steve!Whump, Stancy Breakup, and Eddie just trying to keep up with all these new revelations about who King-Steve actually is...

***

"So…I have to ask," Eddie blurts out, cutting through the awkward silence that has fallen between them, "how were you gonna pick up your car before you ran into me?"

"I don't think it counts as running into you, if you were waiting for me Munson," Steve side steps the question expertly, flashing him a strange smirk that seems out of place. It falls after a second and twists into something pained.

"I was hoping Nance would take me," Steve says eventually, his voice soft, "which was pretty stupid in hindsight, 'specially cuz she was counting on me to drive her this morning, which--"

Steve cuts himself, snapping his mouth shut with a harsh click of teeth, he shakes his head and lifts his hand to run roughly through his hair.

"Doesn't matter anymore".

Eddie holds his breath, feeling the conversation begin to shift. It's as though he's stepped onto a tightrope and any wrong move could potentially send him over the edge.

He settles for nodding once, turning the key in the ignition.

Steve sighs and lets himself fall back into his seat, "I know you know already, the whole fucking school does, Billy saw to that," Steve gestures to his face, "say what you really want to ask". 

Eddie's fingers tighten around the wheel as he turns them out of the parking lot, fighting the immediate urge to say, 'why did Miss Priss throw it all away?' 

"You think I believe the rumours that come out of that shithole?" Eddie lies, keeping his eyes on the road this time.

He can feel Steve's unimpressed stare as they continue down mainstreet.

"Right, so you had no clue I was in detention?"

Eddie chews the inside of his cheek to fight the sly grin that begins to creep over his face, "Alright smart ass".

He hazards another glance at Steve as they begin to hit the residential area, he looks so different from the night before.

His limbs are loose, tension free, if it weren't for the heavy bags under Steve's eyes and the nervous tap of his fingers on the passenger door, Eddie would think he was finally relaxed.

"I knew a fight definitely happened, it's Hargrove," Eddie says slowly, carefully weighing his words, "but I typically prefer to hear the whole sordid story from the source before I pass any judgements, ya know?" 

Steve doesn't say anything as they continue driving through residential  the houses getting progressively bigger as they go.

"Did you," Steve pauses and breathes out slowly before shaking his head and lifting his face to meet Eddie's gaze, "is that offer for something stronger still open?" 

Eddie smiles, "I think that can be arranged". 

***

Eddie pulls over beside Tina Cline's house, wincing as the right front tire rolls over the curb and bounces the van as it lands on the street once more, startling a snort out of Steve. 

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up Harrington," Eddie huffs as Steve shoots him a grin.

"Didn't say a word," Steve hums, unbuckling himself from the seat. Eddie watches as he opens the door and hops out. For a moment Eddie worries Steve will pull the same disappearing act from last night but he simply stops beside his car door and motions for Eddie to roll down his window. 

Eddie cracks his door open instead, "window's broken, what?" 

Steve rolls his eyes, "whatever Munson, you know the way? It's north on 5th and--"

"Then two more rights, yeah man," Eddie says with a laugh in his voice, "I dropped you off remember?" 

"Fuck off," Steve huffs out, he's grinning though.

Steve swings the Beemer’s door open and slides in. He turns on the ignition and flinches at the loud burst of music from the stereo, the volume obviously set from the mood of the previous night. 

'I want to know what love is, I want you to show me--'

Steve slams his hand against the console, cutting off the song with a harsh crack. 

The van is parked just behind the Beemer so Eddie can't see Steve's face, but his head drops down onto the wheel for just the briefest moment before he slowly lifts it, turns on his signal and pulls away from the curb. 

***

Steve beats him to the house.

He's getting out of the car, which is parked on the long driveway as Eddie pulls up to the street. 

Eddie hops out of the van, hiking his backpack higher up on his shoulders, not bothering to lock it. Who would even want his shitty van among the BMWs and Mercedes parked down this street --hell, Eddie could have sworn he saw a Jag three houses down.

Eddie stops short of the lawn. The Harrington house is so different in the light of day, the strange emptiness that seemed to ooze out of the dark windows the night before has disappeared, leaving an ordinary house in its wake. 

"Well?" Steve calls out as he pulls a pair of keys from his back pocket and spins them once on his finger, "you coming or what Munson?" 

Eddie rolls his eyes and jogs to catch up to Steve who turns on his heel to stride up the walk. He stuffs the key into the deadbolt and swings one of the double doors inwards before shucking off his sneakers.

No shoes? Fucking rich people man.

Steve must notice Eddie's expression because he blushes and shrugs, "I know, I know, but my parents will be home for Thanksgiving this year so…may as well…"

He gestures around the sterile foyer with a tight smile, as though it explains everything. 

If anything, Eddie has more questions. 

Steve cuts off the thought by clearing his throat, "we should smoke outside, last thing I need is for you to burn a hole in the couch or something".

Eddie steps over the threshold and has to stop himself from whistling, were the ceilings always this high in this place?

He lifts his foot to unlace his left chuck, snorting at the strange little table in the middle of the foyer. A giant vase sits atop it filled with a mixture of what have to be silk flowers --no way they were real. He pulls the shoe off and tosses it to the side before lifting his right foot. 

Eddie never had the greatest balance so he hops back and forth with his right foot in the air before hopping as close as he can to the wall of the foyer and leaning back against it.

He finally gets the knot in his laces undone and throws the sneaker to the floor, dropping his right foot to the hardwood.

Eddie looks up to find Steve staring with a bemused expression on his face, he ignores the wide hazel eyes and removes the backpack from his shoulders -which can't have been helping the balance issue. 

Eddie unzips the top and yanks out the trusty metal lunchbox, sliding a wicked grin into place.

"You said something about outside?"

***

By the time they've settled, facing one another on a couple of pool loungers, the sun has begun to dip low, painting the patio and empty pool a warm glowing copper. It catches Steve's hair, which shines like gold in the dying sunlight, like some Autumnal Fae King--

Eddie wants to slap himself, suddenly thankful for the November wind that cuts through the backyard, forcing him to chillout.

He picks up the grinder from his lunchbox, unscrewing the cap to open it.

"You good with a joint this evening my good King?" 

He pours a handful of a new strain Rick let him try the other day into the grinder and starts twisting. It's not something he would typically share with anyone other than Jeff, but Steve seemed like he could use something a little more special tonight.

Eddie looks up after a beat of silence, "yo, Major Tom, you with me?" 

Steve's face is pinched, tilted towards the empty pool, "please don't call me that," he says quietly.

"Major Tom?"

Steve raises his eyes to meet Eddie's gaze, his mouth cuts a hard line across his face, the typical easy grin it usually houses is gone. 

"King-Steve," he runs a hand through his hair, letting the fingers linger to grip and pull, "I just, that's not who I am anymore, I don't--"

Steve swallows harshly, "that's all anyone could talk about this morning".

He drops his voice and octave, "oh, King Steve is so pussy whipped he let his girl fuck Jonathan Byers before she dumped him".

"Is that what Hargrove said?" Eddie asks quietly as he pours out a portion of weed onto a paper.

Steve shakes his head, "that was Tommy, but that wasn't why I hit him". 

Eddie nods, and lifts the joint to his mouth to run his tongue along the edge of the paper. Steve watches him from the lounger, his eyes follow the movement before he blinks and continues.

"Tommy and I had been best friends since we were five, he uh, he knows a lot about me," Steve lifts his hand to his mouth and chews the nail of his thumb briefly before dropping it back into his lap.

"Stuff I don't tell anyone, stuff he knows will hurt". 

Eddie nods, twisting the joint closed, he can kind of understand that, although the only person in his life that knew him like that was Wayne.  

And Wayne would never hurt him. 

Did Steve really not have anyone else like that in his life, someone he could tell anything to that wouldn't look at him weird or judge him. Someone safe.

"Anyway, Hargrove started in on me after that, but he's been fucking with me for awhile so," Steve shrugs again, "he saw his big opportunity here".

"Hargrove's been messing with you?" Eddie asks sharply as he pours more weed onto another paper. He lifts it and runs his tongue along the edge of the paper before twisting it into shape. When he looks up, Steve's ears have gone slightly pink and he's sitting strangely, slightly hunched and twisted.

"Yeah," Steve says after a moment, he clears his throat and straightens his back, "yeah, it's just been at practice so far, and I thought it was just because he wanted to one up me for my spot but," he shakes his head, "it's getting worse". 

"You know, I have a bit of a reputation around school," Eddie says slowly, carefully, watching as Steve freezes and looks at Eddie with wide eyes.

"The Hellfire club is more than just the game we're playing, it's also kind of a sanctuary for kids that don't have anyone to lean on, we look after each other," Eddie continues, ignoring the way Steve relaxes slightly, "you wouldn't need to play or anything but if you need somewhere to sit at lunch now…" 

Steve looks at Eddie for a long time, his expression blank, guarded, "really? Just like that?" 

"Yeah man, besides I get to use my 'Mean and Scary Guy' persona on these fuckers so it's a win-win for me".

Steve grins, raising one skeptical eyebrow, "mean and scary?"

Eddie bristles a little bit at the questioning tone in Steve's voice and can't quite swallow the urge to snarl, "yeah I mean you looked plenty scared of the town freak yesterday". 

Steve winces and immediately starts to shake his head, inching forward in his seat so he's even closer to Eddie, their knees are almost touching.

"That's not, I wasn't," he stops and takes a deep breath, "I was upset about Nancy and it was so dark outside, the trees--"

"You afraid of the dark Harrington?" Eddie cuts him off, the lingering irritation still simmers in his voice as he coos. 

Steve just looks at him, there's something strange about the haunted expression on his face that makes the hair on the back of Eddie's arms stand on end. 

"Things happen in the dark, in the woods," Steve says softly, his eyes drift to the empty pool again. 

Eddie opens his mouth to ask Steve what the hell he means by that, when a voice shouts across the yard.

"Steve? STEVE?!" 

The sound of someone running through the grass has them both of their feet, the joints forgotten on the pool loungers. 

"Dustin?" 

A kid, he can't be more than twelve or thirteen, skids into the porchlight that has replaced the last copper rays of evening light, the sun fully set by now. The kid's blue eyes are wide underneath a mop of curly hair and hat, he's breathing hard.

"I need your help".

Tag List: @eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @corrodedbisexual @starman-jpg @ilovecupcakesandtea @yoriposts @clumsiluni @pelinelin @phantomcat94 @lololol-1234 @anaibis @airconditioning123 @steveshairspray @hellfireone @sunswathe @eddielives1986 @tentativeghost @robin-not-batman @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium @tinyplanet95 @perseus-notjackson

Part Five

and for some peeps that I think may be interested! @steddierthings @steddie-there @steves-strapcollection @outpastthebrakers @henderdads @stevesbipanic

[utilitycaster]

In all seriousness, I think one of the most obvious parallels from past campaigns to Imogen is Caleb, and while I've talked about the reductive ways people have interacted with Caleb in the past (Sad Boy hours and whatnot) it is frustrating how Imogen is so frequently denied the same complexity. Caleb was traumatized, and lonely, and nearly friendless but for one person he'd met under difficult circumstances some time before joining the larger party, but he was also (for the most part) allowed by the fandom to be exceptionally violent and brutal in combat; to be angry at all the time he had lost and at the people who'd taken advantage of him; to have possibly questionable goals; and to, at times, work against the better interests of the party in service of his own priorities. He was allowed to fall down and look ridiculous and to be immensely powerful but he was also allowed to be far more than that dichotomy. And, most importantly, and to be fair this was somewhat more hotly contested, he was allowed to claim responsibility for his actions and to exist in a space where he was both a victim of manipulation and willingly made his own choices based on that manipulation, and still be worthy of a heroic status.

Imogen is so frequently denied these opportunities and this complexity- and not by her detractors, but by her claimed fans. She's allowed to be a failgirl who falls down the stairs and she's allowed to get the HDYWTDT but she's not allowed to be the person who deliberately triggered the traps to light up the rivals during the museum heist. You can't explore how cold she is to her father or how she grants her mother undeserved leniency - that's unkind to Imogen. She's not allowed to bear partial responsibility for how people in Gelvaan treat her, even after she nearly killed several of them. She's not allowed to have powers that are a liability or that intrude upon others' privacy; it's only allowed to be explored as her pain and nothing more. Her petty and bitter asides are either made out to be badass mic drops or conveniently ignored. If she wants to explore her darker tendencies it's bad unless she's doing it with Laudna in which case it's good. Her powers have, understandably, left her with fascinating gaps in her communication skills, which is a great point to be made about psychics, but that's neglected when so many people act as if it's everyone else's responsibility to accurately interpret her. It's impossible to explore how her worldview is often very focused on herself without a strong sense of the larger picture - not even self-centered, though it can be, but often merely limited due to her own sheltered experience - because within many fandom circles, every other character's morality is judged based on how far backwards they bend to accommodate her.

[pixlokita]

Me: -sitting quietly-

Brain: would a banana explode in space ?

Me: huh wh

Brain: would an apple…

Me:

Me: -sighhhh- -opens google-

[destinywillowleaf]

so apparently I've headcanoned these two as brothers since at least 2018 and I'm not stopping any time soon >:) debeste-fulbright sibling rights now and forever

also I think Sebastian would be a detective/investigator and not just a prosecutor, I can and will elaborate

[alasy]

From now on, I declare The Mirror Visitor is a trilogy. There's no fourth book, trust me. Just enjoy the first three and move on <3

[ectonurites]

sometimes i think my mom was designed in a lab to make me feel the need to punch a wall

[perenlop]

okay so as a gen 5 stan who does adore the story in bw and bw2, and now that gen 5 has experienced both a vicious hatedom that wouldnt hear a single positive thing about the games, and now a super protective fandom that insists they were perfect and had zero flaws... can we admit now that the bw1 story at least was. a little mid.

[blackjackkent]

Rakha's anxiety definitely spikes as soon as she enters the coronation chamber.

She's struggled quite a bit with how populous Rivington is compared to the other places she has any memory of, but at least nowhere in Rivington did every single eye in the room turn to face her as soon as she entered.

They've apparently arrived just as proceedings are getting underway, as the guests - patriars, Wyll called them, the city's upper crust - have started to assemble themselves. The room is high-ceilinged and oppressively ornate, and there are so many people, enough that the beast immediately starts rumbling hungrily in the back of her mind with thoughts of all their deaths.

At the far end of the carpet runner, Gortash and Ravengard are standing shoulder to shoulder. Gortash doesn't seem to have noticed their arrival yet - but something else has. A Steel Watcher nearby halts in its patrol and rounds on them, looming down over the group.

"STAND DOWN, VILLAIN," it intones, that nondescript voice somehow managing to nevertheless sound imposing. "IN THE NAME OF THE STEEL WATCH. AGGRESSIVE ACTION WILL NOT BE TOLERATED IN THE PRESENCE OF THE PATRIARS OF THIS PROUD CITY."

"And here I thought we had an invitation," Jaheira murmurs behind her.

Rakha swallows a snort. "I'm not taking orders from a piece of metal," she tells the Watcher tiredly. If Gortash had a problem with her presence here, he wouldn't have welcomed her - unless this is a trap, in which case anything she says doesn't matter anyway.

"CORRECT YOUR TONE, CITIZEN," the Watcher growls-- but whatever corrective action it has in mind is abruptly curtailed as Gortash's voice rings out over the crowd.

"Dearest patriars, dearest Ravengard, but a moment!" he calls brightly. "The Blade of Frontiers graces our halls - and he's wearing his devilish best."

The mocking announcement has the effect Gortash presumably intended. The stillness of the hall bursts into a flurry of gossipy whispers, all eyes now on Wyll as Gortash closes with the group.

"My father..." Wyll whispers. "He's here..."

And indeed, Ravengard's eyes flick towards them as well. They land on Wyll but stay there for only a moment, sliding away again with careless disinterest. The blank gaze is chilling and all too familiar - the tadpole's influence.

Rakha wants to turn, to reach out to Wyll - he will need the comfort he has offered to her in the past - but there is no time for this. Gortash has reached them and his fingers grasp sharply at her elbow; she flinches at the unexpected contact, but his grip is like iron. Without preamble, he draws her towards a corner of the room and out of direct attention. The others trail behind her, every one of them on guard.

(A/N: In-game, this whole conversation takes place in the direct center of the hall where everyone can both hear and see it; this didn't make a ton of sense with Hector but makes even less with Rakha. XD So I'm describing what I think the intention is here even though the game doesn't reflect it visually.)

"Crawling back from your bloody disgrace..." he murmurs. "It's my favorite assassin. Gods, you're a sight for sore eyes." His gaze traces over her from head to foot and back - appraising, satisfied. There's a subtle note of something like hunger in his expression that she can't quite account for. "Orin told me she made a fool of you," he says dryly, "but I should've known you wouldn't go down that easy..."

Rakha feels a strange twisting in her gut, that complicated set of emotions that she doesn't have an exact name for. It's fear and excitement simultaneously - the anticipation of a discovery out of her past and the terror of what that discovery might be, for none of them so far have been good. The strange, inescapable warmth that comes with being recognized with a smile, and the chill that follows, knowing the smile to be Gortash's. The flicker of familiarity and the desperate rejection of it.

And the beast's growl, of course. You could kill him too. Perhaps you would have, in time... before...

"You know me?" she asks, and curses the unsteadiness in her voice in spite of her attempt to control it.

He lounges back on his heels and considers her thoughtfully. "Then she didn't lie..." he murmurs. "The past is lost to you." Is it disappointment she sees in his expression? Or simply disdain. "Let me clear up some mysteries, then." His lips curve in a faint smile. "We share so much history."

He begins to pace a few steps back and forth in front of her as he speaks, though his eyes never leave her. "You and I initiated this plot. We discussed in depth the failures of our predecessors and how to avoid them. We understood that if we were to unite, no one could stand in the way of the Dead Three." He clenches one fist tightly. "So unite we did. First we obtained the crown, then we enslaved the brain. From there, it was but a small step to the most successful religious hoax ever perpetrated."

Rakha's blood feels as if it has turned to ice. The implications of Gortash's words sink in slowly but click together, implacable, fact and fact and fact, the truth of who and what she is.

She was not simply a member of the Absolutist cult before her memory was taken, before Orin struck her down. She was a founder; she stood in Orin's place at Gortash's side. She conceived the plan to enslave the brain.

It doesn't make sense. Tyranny is Bane's purview, not Bhaal's. Why, even in her blood-soaked past, would she choose this convoluted plan to dominate the world?

She cannot bear to turn and see the look of dismay that must be painted across Wyll's face, across Jaheira's, perhaps even across Lae'zel's. And she truly cannot bear to see the excitement that must be written clearly across Minthara's.

"What was my role in this plan?" she asks. She's regained a little control over her voice; the trembling has moved to settle more subtly in her fingertips.

Gortash smiles. "In Bhaal's name, you set your bloody daggers to cause panic in the streets, killing in the Absolute's name. You would have carried out that part of the plan, had Orin not ruined your hard work."

He jerks his head to indicate the path she came down. "Next, the threat of the Absolute's monstrous armies formed by Myrkul's general, Ketheric Thorm. In such circumstances, people crave strong leaders. Leaders that bring law, order, and protection. Leaders like me, Bane's unyielding hand, author of justice."

His smile takes on a brittle knife-edge aspect and his eyes glint with sudden fanatical light. "You are soon to witness the people of Baldur's Gate granting me complete power over them. All out of fear of the Absolute. The faithful will do anything in the name of their god."

He clicks his tongue with an air of disappointment. "It was all going so well - until you vanished. Orin informed us that henceforth *she* would speak for the temple of Bhaal and act on their behalf." He rolls his eyes petulantly. "But she made a mess of things. Unlike you, she cannot control herself."

Memories flick-flick-flick through her head, scattered images -- Gortash's face, the brain, the crown, the power, the blood of those they killed to make it happen. And the beast's growl overlays with it, melds through it: Yes... a beautiful plot... and when the end came, the blood of all we slaughtered would flow like a waterfall... even Gortash did not know the carnage we planned...

She feels sick, the two halves of her mind ripping and tearing at each other, the beast savage with excitement and the rest of her straining to hold it back.

She remembers, suddenly, a sheet of paper scribbled in a messy, scrawling hand deep in the pit of Moonrise Towers. Her *own* hand, though she didn't recognize it.

Father, you created me to be the last soul alive. When the time is right, and my power is assured I will slaughter Gortash and Ketheric upon your altar, where I myself hope to die when the world itself is gasping its last. At the end of this all, Father, there will be not a single creature living. Everyone will die. Everyone will die for YOU. I will make you proud.

"You are mistaken if you think I can control myself," she mutters hoarsely.

He quirks an eyebrow, then laughs and claps her on the shoulder. The touch sends a lighting jolt through her body and she has to swallow a noise of almost-pain.

"Have you gone soft?" he asks dismissively. "I find that hard to believe. One's true nature always rises to the top." He waves a hand as if knocking her concerns aside, and continues, "When Ketheric fell, I feared the worst - that our plans would fail like so many before, because of discord among ourselves. Now you've returned, we can achieve all our dreams still. You brought Thorm's Netherstone."

He waits, expectantly, for her nod, which she gives after a short pause. What use denying it?

He nods in answer, lifts his hand on which he wears a bracer with the second stone embedded into its metal lining.

"You know, it takes all three to control the brain," he says with a pensive air. "Without Thorm's, it's become vexingly wilful. The quakes are a clear warning. If nobody steps in soon, it'll free itself from the authority of the Crown."

He stops pacing abruptly and fixes her with a keen, piercing, knowing look. "I expect it'll start with turning the Sword Coast's infected - you among them. That Prism of yours won't last indefinitely. Next, the Grand Design, the mind flayer empire reborn. If we're lucky, we'll become slaves. If we're unlucky... well. A bleak prospect."

He smiles again, reaches out and takes her hand; the feeling of his palm on hers makes her skin crawl. "But it's a fate that can be avoided," he says, "if you and I renew our old partnership. Together we can still restore authority over the brain."

She yanks her hand out of his sharply and takes a step back, trying to regain a sense of personal space.

She doesn't understand him, doesn't understand what he wants from her. Surely he knows she killed Ketheric, that she came here as his enemy. And yet he seems to take it as a given that, now that she knows the score, she will want to pick up with him just as they'd planned, control the brain and put the Sword Coast under their thrall.

And she could.

The thought falls through her brain like an ice block. She could make that choice in this moment. She could turn her back on everything, join him, destroy Orin, control the brain, kill, kill, kill, kill, killkillkillKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLkill-- everyone, everything. The river of blood would be hers and there would be no more straining to be two people instead of one, no more inward struggle, no more pain. Nothing would hurt anymore. She would be what she was born to be.

She starts to tremble all over, her breath quickening and her heart racing.

I can't. Wyll...

What does Wyll matter against destiny?

"Why is the crown failing?" she asks, buying herself time while the war rages in her head.

Gortash shrugs. "It's not. But it will not follow new orders unless the Netherstones are united to give the command. When it finishes executing its current orders, it will be free to do as it wishes. That would be bad for everyone," he says pointedly. "The crown's magic turned the brain into something the world has never seen. A Netherbrain. Its power is immense. Once it is freed from its shackles, I doubt we'll ever be able to bring it under control again."

Another layer. Another threat. Gortash would be easier to kill than the brain; perhaps he can be convinced they are on the same side long enough to let her deal with the hundred other things going wrong. Perhaps they can use him, just long enough, just enough...

Perhaps this is how madmen rationalize their madness...

"I want to avenge myself," she says haltingly. "I want to strike at Orin." It's not a lie, and not quite an acceptance - it's a diversion, nothing more, a desperate play for breathing room.

Gortash smiles again, and there's triumph in it this time. He thinks she is agreeing, allying with him, even if she has not said any such thing out loud. "Ousting Orin and helping you reclaim your birthright would be my greatest honor," he says gravely. "With Ketheric gone, Orin proves treacherous. She wants the Netherstones for herself." He scoffs, shaking his head. "She only cares for blood. And your blood and mine are of particular interest to her."

Rakha swallows. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. "What are you getting at?" she snaps, too sharply.

"Orin changes shape faster than you and I change clothes," Gortash says matter-of-factly. "You know. She's tricked you before. She's targeted me as well. I'm well-protected, but she's extremely good at what she does. If Orin obtains all three Netherstones, she'll plunge the Coast into chaos and paint the city in blood."

Blood. Rakha's head twinges and her stomach churns.

"I can't let that happen," Gortash finishes. "I want to lead this city to glory, not scorch its earth. So I turn to you - the former ruler of the Cult of Bhaal."

Foolish... Rakha thinks, and the thought is a melding of her own mind and the beast. To ally with me would be to seal your own doom. And the blood would flow in the end, a cleaner cut than Orin's, perhaps, but a slice of the jugular of the world all the same. The thought makes her body tingle all over and she feels a sudden frantic urge to tear off her own skin.

"What do you propose?" Her voice sounds far away in her own ears.

Again that eager, hungry look flickers across Gortash's eyes. "Let's make our pact anew. A divine oath sworn upon spirit and flesh. I do no harm to you, nor you to me. Furthermore you'll have nothing to fear from my Steel Watch while our pact stands. Thorm's stone is yours to keep. When you slay Orin and take her stone, you bring it here, so the three are united once again."

He steps closer to her again, one hand lifting to her shoulder, and she can feel the heat of his breath against her jaw. "Together, we rule Faerun as kings. No - more than kings. Gods. We rule as the Absolute."

"And-- my father?" Wyll starts to ask. But the question is lost, fading out of Rakha's ears as the beast squirms exciteably in her head.

Narrator: The Urge, the deplorably brutal Urge sickens within you. When you level the world over, that dead world must be yours alone. But first... you will rule. Then you will ruin.

"What do you say?" Gortash murmurs. "Shall we be allies?"

Abruptly, the Emperor's voice ripples through her head, overlaying the keening excitement of the beast. "I can detect no deceit," it comments. "This alliance could serve us well. And if it does not... well, we need not honor it..."

"He wants what we want," comes Minthara's voice to join the others in Rakha's head. "Orin dead and the elder brains subjugated. An alliance would serve us well."

It's all too much. She can't think. She must acquiesce, if only to have time to clear her head.

(A/N: There are a few class-specific possible responses for accepting Gortash's pact; Rakha in-game got a BARD option which was very uncharacteristic for her. So I dug in the dialogue files for the standard response instead cos it fits a bit better.)

"I will defeat Orin," she whispers. "And we will be allies. You have my oath."

What matters it to her if she breaks a divine oath? What god does she follow but Bhaal?

Her brain statics angrily. I will use you as long as you're useful. I will destroy Orin. I will destroy the brain. And then I will destroy you.

And then I will destroy the world... murmurs the beast.

No... she struggles to insist. Then it will be done. And I will turn away... But her voice feels very small, and very frightened, in comparison to the roiling storm of blood-rage it stands against.

Gortash nods, and his smirk widens. "Then let it be writ by the Black Hand of Bane," he says somberly. "I, Lord Enver Gortash, swear I shall do you no harm. We will rise together over Toril as a roaring sun."

He draws back out of her immediate space, but the smirk doesn't fade. "Let me demonstrate why you made the right choice," he goes on, and his tone is suddenly all business, brittle and cool. "Your camp is compromised. One among you is an imposter - a Faceless. Who, I can't say; I'd suggest a thorough investigation. You'll find I speak the truth."

Rakha's blood runs cold. Just as Minthara said might happen. At her side, Wyll stiffens.

"An imposter. But who in the Hells..."

"The Faceless in your camp is like a knife to your throat," Gortash goes on, ignoring Wyll completely. "Remove it, quickly, or any alliance between us would be exceedingly short-lived."

Rakha swallows. "I must go," she mutters. She needs to get away from this conversation. The ache in her head is blinding, and everything has changed...

Again Gortash rests his hand casually on her arm with that eager, hungry smile. "Before you do," he murmurs, "come witness as I make history as the first Archduke of Baldur's Gate."

Rakha tries to shake his hand away. "I have no interest in this sham of a ceremony," she growls. She may have agreed to this pact, but she doesn't need to watch him take control of Wyll's city--

His fingertips dig abruptly, painfully, into her arm and his smile turns brittle. "Then allow me to pique it for you."

Narrator: Your brain twists and stretches under the Watcher's gaze. The pain almost brings you to your knees before fading.

The agony whites out her vision and she staggers, almost toppling over except for Gortash's iron grip on her arm.

"You will follow me," he says coldly. "And you will show due respect."

-----

She doesn't absorb anything about the ceremony. Her head is roiling with pain and agitation, the beast and whatever better nature she has battling viciously inside her mind. It takes some time for her heart to return to a normal pace, and a while longer for her to gain the courage to look at her companions.

Lae'zel's eyes are not on the ceremony but on Rakha herself; her expression is unreadable but her fingertips dance on the hilt of the blade at her side, betraying her agitation. Minthara, damn her, looks pleased - of all of them, she is the only one that unequivocally believes this was the right choice.

Jaheira's eyes are hooded over. Her gaze flicks across the entire room taking in each patriar's face, each Steel Watcher, each shadow. She catches Rakha's eyes for a brief moment in this roving survey, and she tips her head to one side, then nods slightly. The unspoken understanding touches just the edge of Rakha's roiling mind with a hint of calm. We work with the tools we have, she seems to say. I have not let you slip yet. I will not begin now.

And Wyll... Wyll says nothing. Wyll does not move. Wyll's eyes remain fixed on his father for every moment of the ceremony, and he does not look at Rakha at all.

[xsilversugar]

King Rauru, my beloved.

[toastedjeans]

I need to make this its own post actually

I like to believe that in-game Peddito and Doise used to be friends. Maybe even best friends. But obviously Peddito died some time and is now out to kill Doise as well. But how did all of this happen? Well, I'm glad you didn't ask cause I'm gonna tell you anyway.

Maybe some day they got trapped or were chased or whatever. Perhaps something similar to a crumbling tower. And there was a situation where Peddito was hurt and couldn't go on. Doise wanted to go back and help him out, but something made him decide otherwise. Maybe he couldn't even go back cause he got cut off or the path was blocked or whatever. Or he didn't go back cause he was scared that if he did, they both would die. Of course, he didn't want his friend to die either, but he ultimately decided to leave him behind so at least one of them lived in the end.

Doise has never forgiven himself for this. He still feels guilty after so many years. If he could go back in time, he'd decide to return to Peddito and die with him. Or at least try to get both of them out of wherever they were.

Meanwhile, Peddito's soul/ghost/idk got resurrected into the form we know now. And that with a ton of vengeance. Because he only knows that Doise left him behind to die, and of course he felt betrayed. So now he's out to kill Doise as revenge. He doesn't know about Doise's internal struggle at that time, but even if he did, honestly, i think most of us would probably be mad.

Part of both of them just want to see the other again. Well, in a not murdery way of course. Doise, while terrified of Peddito now, just wants to talk, he wants to apologize, and even if he knows Peddito wouldn't forgive him, he just wants him to know he didn't leave him for any hateful reasons. I think Peddito would not have anything besides "KILL" on his mind tbh. AT FIRST. But after a while Doise would be able to get through to him and he starts to listen. He stops trying to kill Doise, and Doise tells him everything and is extremely ready for Peddito to kill him and he'd even accept it at that point. But Peddito never does. And although he can't really speak or emote, Doise kinda knows what he wants to tell him. After all, they used to be best friends. They knew each other well.

In Siren Tower i wanted something similar to happen between them. I did say that it's Peddito who wants to actually befriend Doise, but honestly that doesn't make sense to me anymore after writing all this down lol. I still like the idea of Peddito not knowing his strength and nearly killing Doise multiple times on accident.

Anyway i want to believe they make up at the end. Maybe their friendship will be pretty strained at first, but i just. I want them to become friends again. Yeah.