#like do your own research

[oldcardigan]

just the reaction from people over taylor telling her supporters to vote in the primaries for who best represents them tells me everything i need to know about why she has not, and will likely never make a statement on palestine. people would just call her disingenuous, or pick apart her statement to find something they disagree with.

i do still want her to speak up about palestine and urge for a ceasefire, and i would love to see her speak about other issues too (abortion bills, anti-lgbtq, etc) but at the same time, i completely understand why she doesn’t.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

hope you feel better soon!

I am riddled with ailments, but I stay silly!

[serpentface]

how do you come up with the ways cultures in your setting stylize people/animals/the world in general in their artwork, i.e. jewlery, rock carvings, statues, etc? Each culture in your world seems to have a very unique "art style" and I love it a lot - makes them seem that much more 'real'. This is something I struggle with a lot in my own worldbuilding and I'd love to pick your brain if possible 😁

I think a starting point is to have a research process based in the material realities of the culture you're designing for. Ask yourself questions like:

Where do they live? What's the climate/ecosystem(s) they are based in? What geographic features are present/absent?

What is their main subsistence method? (hunter gatherer, seasonal pastoralist, nomadic pastoralist, settled agriculturalist, a mix, etc)

What access to broader trade networks do they have and to whom? Are there foreign materials that will be easily accessible in trade and common in use, or valuable trade materials used sparingly in limited capacities?

Etc

And then do some research based on the answers, in order to get a sense of what materials they would have routine access to (ie dyes, metal, textiles, etc) and other possible variables that would shape how the art is made and what it's used for. This is just a foundational step and won't likely play much into designing a Style.

If you narrow these questions down very specifically, (ie in the context of the Korya post- grassland based mounted nomads, pastoralist and hunter-gatherer subsistence, access to wider trade networks and metals), you can direct your research to specific real world instances that fit this general idea. This is not to lift culturally specific concepts from the real world and slap them into your own setting, but to notice commonalities this lifestyle enforces - (ie in the previous example- mounted nomadic peoples are highly mobile and need to easily carry their wealth (often on clothing and tack) therefore small, elaborate decorative artwork that can easily be carried from place to place is a very likely feature)

For the details of the art itself, I come up with loose 'style guides' (usually just in my head) and go from there.

Here's some example questions for forming a style (some are more baseline than others)

Are geometric patterns favored? Organic patterns? Representative patterns (flowers, animals, stars, etc)? Abstract patterns?

Is there favored material(s)? Beads, bone, clay, metals, stones, etc.

When depicting people/animals, is realism favored? Heavy stylization? The emotional impression of an animal? Are key features accentuated?

How perspective typically executed? Does art attempt to capture 3d depth? Does it favor showing the whole body in 2 dimensions (ie much of Ancient Egyptian art, with the body shown in a mix of profile and forward facing perspective so all key attributes are shown)? Will limbs overlap? Are bodies shown static? In motion?

Does artwork of people attempt to beautify them? Does it favor the culture's conception of the ideal body?

Are there common visual motifs? Important symbols? Key subject matters?

What is the art used for? Are its functions aesthetic, tutelary, spiritual, magical? (Will often exist in combination, or have different examples for each purpose)

Who is represented? Is there interest in everyday people? Does art focus on glorifying warriors, heroes, kings?

Are there conventions for representing important figures? (IE gods/kings/etc being depicted larger than culturally lesser subjects)

Is there visual shorthand to depict objects/concepts that are difficult to execute with clarity (the sun, moon, water), or are invisible (wind, the soul), or have no physical component (speech)?

Etc

Deciding on answers to any of these questions will at least give you a unique baseline, and you can fill in the rest of the gaps and specify a style further until it is distinct. Many of these questions are not mutually exclusive, both in the sense of elements being combined (patterns with both geometric and organic elements) or a culture having multiple visual styles (3d art objects having unique features, religious artwork having its own conventions, etc).

Also when you're getting in depth, you should have cultural syncretism in mind. Cultures that routinely interact (whether this interaction is exchange or exploitation) inevitably exchange ideas, which can be especially visible in art. Doing research on how this synthesizing of ideas works in practice is very helpful- what is adopted or left out from an external influence, what is retained from an internal influence, what is unique to this synthesis, AND WHY. (I find Greco-Buddhist art really interesting, that's one of many such examples)

Looking at real world examples that fit your parameters can be helpful (ie if I've decided on geometric patterns in my 'style guide', I'll look at actual geometric patterns). And I strongly encourage trying to actually LEARN about what you're seeing. All art exists in a context, and having an understanding of how the context shapes art, how art does and doesn't relate to broader aspects of a society, etc, can help you when synthesizing your own.

[adriancatrin]

soulmark au sketches. the idea of sokka in proven ‘soulmates are real’ universes consistently intrigues me—how would that impact his skepticism/interpretation of fate/destiny/free will? personally i think he’d be very angry for a very long time and probably not even understand why

[ireton]

[thatneoncrisis]

harrows a sped kid but gideon is a girl who should by all accounts at LEAST have a 504 plan but all adults dismiss her as merely combative and disruptive, at Best theyll throw in a "not utilizing her potential to the fullest." multiple teachers have vaguely alluded to her having ODD rather than think for a second about why she might be acting like that

[reality-detective]

Times Like These 🤔

[faeriekit]

Ghosts of Those We Once Knew

a phic phight fill for @silverwing013

Warnings for: implied child abuse, accidental death, dead parents

**💚**

“Oh yeah?! And what are you going to do about it?!” Aunt Alicia snapped into the phone. 

There was a sound on the other end of the line, but Danny couldn’t make it out all the way. There was another solution, but it was…risky; it would require going into his aunt’s bedroom— a well known, forbidden domain— to pick up the only other phone hooked up to the landline. 

…There was no other time to find out what Aunt Alicia was putting off. It had to be worth the risk. Danny crept up the worn carpeting of the stairs, hoping that his sneakiness would hold up to Alicia’s discerning eyes and ears. 

Her bedroom was dark. Carpeted. …Pink. 

Whatever. Danny took a deep breath, lifted the phone off the hook, and tried not to breathe too loudly into the mouthpiece.

“You have no right to keep Daniel in your dismal, miserable, isolated hovel,” someone shouted on the other end. Danny had never heard this voice before. He sounded like someone around Dad’s age, maybe? Maybe a little…smoother, despite the blistering anger coming through the line. “You live with no human contact for nine months out of the year. You speak to no one. Do you— is Daniel even enrolled in a school? Did you get any sort of educational provisions for him whatsoever?” 

“What, so he can get cocky and blow himself up in the garage like his parents?” Alicia snapped. Danny had to clap a hand to his mouth to hide his gasp of dismay. 

“You know full well that punishing your sister’s son by restricting his access to an education and basic human companionship is not a solution to your grief for your sister. You are out of your mind.”

Aunt Alicia’s voice got low. Aunt Alicia’s voice got mean. She sounded like how she looked when Danny had fumbled the water pail from the well or stepped two steps too close to the rhubarb patch out back. “Vladmir Masters, you listen here,” Aunt Alicia muttered. “That boy is everything left of my sister in the whole damn world. He is not going anywhere. Do you understand? Not for you to fill his head with her stupid husband’s supernatural hoo-ha, and not for you to snatch up and teach himself how to kill other people the way those two killed each other. Danny stays here. If you ring me up one more time, I’m going to do more than just mail dog crap to the front step of your stupid castle in Wisconsin.”

The phone cut off. It would be an innocuous end to a phone call, except Danny can hear the clatter of plastic cracking on plastic in the downstairs kitchen.

There was a moment of silence.

“Daniel Jackson Fenton, you get your butt in here right now!”

Danny jolted, heart pounding. He—he went downstairs.

Aunt’s Alicia’s lips were pursed, her eyes tight. “What did I tell you about missing all the sticks in the yard? It looks like a wreck!”

Danny felt his breath stick in his throat.

“Well?”

“Yes, Aunt Alicia,” Danny mumbled. He looked down and away. He wasn’t caught out eavesdropping, but…was this any better?

“If those sticks aren’t piled up beside the woodshed for kindling in half an hour, you can kiss your dinner goodbye.”

Danny hadn’t had dinner in three nights. He was very lucky he didn’t need to eat as much as living kids. “…Yes, Aunt Alicia.”

“So?”

…Danny went outside to collect sticks. It took until nightfall to get all the refuse from yesterday’s storm off the ground.

Aunt Alicia ate canned corn and carrots and butchered rabbit with hot sauce for dinner. Danny ate nothing.

Danny went to bed thinking about somewhere else he could go. Mom and Dad were dead—smithereens in the blast that had killed him and brought him back to life simultaneously. Jazz was in the hospital. He had no grandparents. He had no other aunts or uncles other than Aunt Alicia.

…Who was Vladmir Masters?

*

It took two days for Danny to decide to run away.

Or. Well. Fly.

He’d figured that if he wanted to find out who Vladmir Masters was, he’d need an internet connection. His cell had been on the Fenton Fone Plan™ and had been disconnected from the Fenton Family Patented Ghost-free Satellite™ for almost three months now. But, you know…what was a public library for, if not getting information?

The two-day waiting period was mostly just Danny getting his stuff together, making sure he didn’t leave anything behind, finding anything worth stealing…

…There was a picture of Mom with her big hair at graduation, a black robe thrown over her Hazmat suit. Her hair had been so big. Lots of people were beside her, including Dad, and someone with a matching hair stripe. They looked happy.

It didn’t matter that it had been Aunt Alicia’s photo. The picture had gone into his backpack next to Bearbert Einstein and a filched pocket knife.

Mom was Aunt Alicia’s sister, but Madeline Fenton had been his mom.

…Was still his mom.

Would…would always be his mom.

Danny wouldn’t cry. He wasn’t going to cry. Still, the flying and everything was still new to him. It took almost ten minutes to get himself off the ground without floating off willy nilly.

It took another half an hour to remember how to go through walls.

By the time Danny fell (as in actually, literally, leaned up against the wall and then realized he’d not made contact the way he’d expected to) through the house wall, it was almost eight at night. Aunt Alicia was still listening to Prairie Home Companion downstairs on the radio.

Whatever. He was out of there. He was sure he looked crazy—his hair was white, which was almost impossible to hide—but all he had to do was get out of there fast enough that no one connected one teenage runaway with a backpack to Danny Fenton.

It was fine.

It was all going to be fine.

…And if there wasn’t someone who’d help him. Well. Being homeless didn’t sound…so bad…?

…Or maybe he’d just squat in the burnt out ruins of Fentonworks. That sounded fine too.

*

Morning broke. Danny ended up in a tiny town somewhere in Mississippi.

A nice guy at the coffee shop gave him a cup of water and told him where the local library was. A librarian plugged her login details for him on a public computer, and Danny was able to look up one “Vladmir Masters”…

…CEO and owner of DALVco, millionaire, and Green Bay Packers megafan.

Holy crap.

Like… There were hospital wings with his name on them. Charities operating out of his company. Every picture of the man was perfectly taken in perfect lighting with perfect suits and precise smirks and bright-white magazine article paper.

Danny went back up to the librarian. “Do you have any articles on…uh…Vlad Masters?”

The librarian smiled warmly. “Ah, school project?”

“Sure,” Danny lied, milk on his tongue.

Vlad Masters was a self-made millionaire. He lived in a castle in Wisconsin that used to be owned by a dairy empire kingpin. He went to—

Danny read the line again

—He went to the same college as Mom and Dad. The year looked right, too. They might have even graduated in the exact same year. If only Danny could still check Dad’s college ring in the bottom of their junk drawer.

Wisconsin. Vlad Masters lived in Wisconsin.

…Danny was really lucky he was never all that hungry anymore.

Danny got another cup of water at the coffee shop, washed his face in the bathroom, and got ready to fly another night.

He was no sextant, but he could probably figure out how to get to Wisconsin after a couple of hours of flying, and a little time to gauge the sky.

It would be easy.

…Danny’s white-topped, pale face stared back at him from the restroom mirror.

It had to be. It would have to be easy.

*

So, a cheese castle looked a lot like a regular castle.

Danny squinted up at the stonework. Nah, that looked like…a castle. That being said, it looked more specifically like the castle he was looking for—the one that had been featured in Vlad Masters’s house tour in Architecture Daily magazine two years ago.  

Same…roof bits. Same big door. Danny swallowed. Same…tower? Were there better words for these? There were definitely better words for all the tricky stone bits in the castle.

Whatever. Danny was praying that the man was actually home today, as opposed to flying across the country on some kind of business trip. Rich people did business trips, right?

Danny floated up to the front door. There was no doorbell.

…Danny bit his lip. Okay. So there was no doorbell. There was a very large, brass door knocker. It looked kind of like a big monster face, with a ring held in its teeth.

The knocker was just high enough off the ground that Danny had to float to get there. Lifting it was a struggle.

When it knocked, the whole door buzzed with sound.

Danny waited.

…He waited.

And…Danny waited.

No one came.

Danny picked at the skin of his lip. What if he just…went in?

Like. It was a big house. Maybe Vlad Masters just hadn’t heard him at all? Maybe he was just…in the basement or something…?

Danny paced midair. On one hand. He’d come all this way. He had to follow through. He had to see if there was…something. Anything. Anything at all—anything that could possibly connect Masters to his family.

Any connection that wasn’t Aunt Alicia would be worth breaking and entering.

On the other hand. Home invasion was and would remain illegal.

Danny grimaced.

He…stuck his head through the door. 

There was a hallway on the other side. A little end table. A guest book. 

…Okay. Danny slipped through the door. He was breaking and entering now— or at least…entering. 

Inside was dark. Gloomy. Comfortable, sure— lots of soft furnishings, curtains, couches, pillow, lounging things— but very…opaque in atmosphere. 

He was glowing, he noticed. That probably was pretty bad on the “trying not to get caught” scale. 

There was no one upstairs. Danny drifted through room after empty room and up into floor after empty floor. There was a kitchen, and the food therein were largely preserved items. There was nothing in the fridge. 

Danny’s stomach cramped. There was no one here. 

…Maybe he should look downstairs? 

The castle got colder the further down he went. The windows that at least allowed the minimal light that escaped through the tree cover in the castle vanished. The only light left was Danny. 

Danny floated down deeper. 

There were doors made of metal in a long, stone hallway. Each had different numbers on them. Danny followed the rows of doors.

There were wires on the floor. They were organized by color and bound by little ties, until they weren’t, and Danny eventually ran out of tangled webs of red and blue plastic to follow. 

They ended at a closed door. 

Danny hesitated. He poked his head through. 

On the other side was a ghost. 

Danny jerked back. He’d— he clapped his hand over his mouth. That was—! And sure, Danny was something like that now, but he’d never seen—!

He should leave. Danny should leave. 

Danny barely made it three doors down. 

Going somewhere? something asked him. Danny shivered. 

The ghost appeared on his left in ethereal white, black hair pulled behind him in some sort of half-halo. Unlike Danny, who was in something like half-hazmat, half-hoodie, the ghost wore a long, glowing labcoat, appropriate PPE beneath. 

Danny’s breath fogged up in his mouth. He flinched. “Sorr—” he tried. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to be here.”

The ghost looked at him with bright red eyes. Danny floated a few steps back. Spying, are you?

Danny shook his head. “No!! No, I just— I was looking for— I wasn’t spying! I’m sorry! I didn’t know you li— died here! I’ll leave!” 

The ghost’s head tilted. For a second, Danny thought that he was going to throw a punch. And then—

You’re already here, the ghost pointed out, and opened a door. Beyond it was…something similar to a doctor’s office. An examination table with the paper on it. One of those blood pressure cuffs, attached to a printer for the readout. A sink. Sundry tongue depressors. You may as well consent to be helped. 

“...Helped with what?” Danny asked nervously, fingers flexing. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

The ghost hummed— not in the way voices hummed, but in the way high voltage sang in distant powerlines. You are newly formed, aren’t you? Most can tell a ghost’s nature from its presence alone.

Danny looked away. “Um. You know. You might be the first ghost I’ve ever met.” 

The ghost’s feet almost touched the ground. It stared down at him. It was taller than he was, and when it stared, it made Danny want to run away. 

…Truly, the ghost asked(?), and it took Danny a second to realize it was a question. 

“Maybe I died a little recently…” Danny tried, trailing off into a mumble. Was there a right answer to this? 

…I see. That would make this check-up more urgent, then. Might I encourage you to come this way? 

Danny followed him into the room. 

It felt… It looked and felt exactly like any other doctor’s appointment, excepting that the doctor involved in the process had blue skin and fangs and a hairstyle that defied gravity. The ghost still wore gloves and didn’t poke him or prod him too hard, though, so that was a bonus.

Danny got his pulse taken. (None.) Danny got his lungs checked. (Not breathing.) Danny got his resonance? looked at? Whatever that was? It was a big scanny thing that looked like an X ray and took pictures of his chest. 

The readings were real pretty, whatever they were; the whole film print was taken up with splotches of white and clear blue. It kind of shimmered when Danny tilted his head. 

You’re quite powerful for a newly formed ghost, the ghost offered, overlooking papers Danny couldn’t quite see on his clipboard. It flipped through once. Twice. You’re clearly not attached to your place of death, so that’s not why… Are you aware of any compulsions to follow an Obsession yet…?

A ghostly obsession? Danny knew what that was— it was one of his parents’ theories on why ghosts persisted after death! Was it was true? 

“Um,” Danny said, unsure. He hadn’t…had he? “Not that I know of?”

The ghost paused. It clicked its pen. It marked something down on Danny’s chart. Interesting.

Ominous. 

May I quickly test something? the ghost asked, looking up at Danny. It would only take a moment. If it does not work, there will be no other side effects other than mild discomfort and an activated flight response. 

Danny shifted. The paper crackled underneath him. “...Does it hurt?” 

No.

The ghost added nothing more. 

Danny’s…head jerked up and down. It was fine. It would be fine. 

The ghost’s hand circled his wrist. Its touch burned like fire. 

And then light, like how Danny burned away one form for another—

—Danny was left on the table, no longer weightless, no longer breathless. He was flesh. He was human again.

Vlad Masters stared back at him. 

…Huh. 

Mr. Masters— Vlad?— licked dry lips, staring at Danny, whose wrist he still held. Danny…didn’t know if he could move. Danny didn’t know if he knew how to move. 

“...Daniel?” Mr. Masters’s voice cracked. His eyes moved up and down Danny’s body, from his raggedy hair to his dirt-stained clothes to his beat-up shoes. “Daniel Fenton?”

Danny winced. “It’s just Danny,” he offered hoarsely. His throat bobbed. “You…know me?” 

Mr. Masters moved his grip to Danny’s hand, apparently moved to tears. Without the red in his eyes, he just looked…human enough. “Daniel— Danny, how did you— Are you dead? What happened?” 

Danny felt the weight of everything push down on him again, as if it had ever let up on him since the portal incident. Mom and Dad’s funerals. Jazz in the emergency room. Being resuscitated by the EMTs. Getting shipped out to Aunt Alicia’s house without warning. 

“House blew up.”

That was succinct enough, right?

The man’s face turned devastated. “I heard— I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry, Danny.”

…It was more concern than anyone had shown in a long time. His eyes were wet before he knew it. When he wiped his face with his sleeve, the dampness was enough to leave little streaks of mud on his face— and, ugh, he felt filthy. 

“It’s okay,” Danny lied, because it wasn’t. He pressed his sleeve to his eyes. “It’s…you know my parents?”

Mr. Masters took a deep, surprised breath. “Yes. We…weren’t in contact after we graduated from school together, but Jack always… He asked me by email to be your godfather, right before you were born. I said yes, but I have no idea if he ever filed the paperwork.” 

Oh. 

…Oh. 

There were clearly more secrets here. Mr. Masters was a ghost, and so was Danny. He lived in a giant castle that was clearly haunted, which was made obvious by the owner. He was Danny’s godfather, and Danny had never once met him. 

And he wasn’t Aunt Alicia. 

Danny sucked the spit off of his teeth with his tongue. “Can I stay here?” 

Mr. Masters made a wounded, desperate expression. “I would rather you did.” 

“Can you teach me how to be a ghost?”

The man persevered through what were clearly heavy feelings. “...If I must.” 

“Can I have dinner?” was Danny’s final question. “Like. On the regular?” 

There was a second where Mr. Masters’s eyes went red. The castle suddenly felt taut with anticipation. Fury crawled on Danny’s skin. He could feel the pressure digging in search of some way to burrow into his flesh.

And then it was gone. 

“Of course you can. You are a growing boy.”

Danny smiled shyly, barely showing his teeth. When he smiled for real in the mirror, he had fangs. It was better not to. “Cool.”

Mr. Masters nodded. And when Danny looked down at the floor, he changed his grip so that Danny could hold his hand and hop down like normal. 

“It will be alright,” Mr. Masters promised quietly. It seemed to be just as much for him as it was for Danny. “Or…I’ll take care of it. Whatever happens. You’re not alone, Danny.” 

Danny had been alone for almost half a year. It had felt like forever. “Thanks.” He sniffed. 

They walked upstairs from the basement laboratory together, in a way Mom and Dad never would again. 

[bunnieswithknives]

Considering it's a popular headcanon... does Peri have any disabilities of his own in the Nature AU? Might help him better help out Dev with his problems.

I headcanon that he has weak joints, probably something like Joint Hypermobility Syndrome or Hypermobile EDS? Something that causes the connective tissue of his joints to just, not be that good.

His joints hurt often and physical exertion is a lot more taxing on him than it is for most other people or fairies.

[palatinewolfsblog]

“The profession of journalism ought to be

about telling people what they need to know -

not what they want to know.”

Walter Cronkite.

The Art of Gravitas

(for my old Friend @acommonloon ) ...

[genericpuff]

Intresting how its only trivializing and mocking green myths when non-greek white people do it, but not when non-greek poc do it. Its almost if you dont actually care

lmao bro what

i literally have zero clue what you're arguing here, "stop criticizing rachel for writing her greek myth retelling from a predominantly whitewashed westernized and christian-washed point view" ?? yeah okay lol

[sarafangirlart]

I fucking hate this hc that Athena actually “gifted” Medusa by turning her into a monster bc it literally makes no sense and whoever made that up doesn’t know shit about Greek mythology bc if Athena really wanted to protect her then why did she help Perseus kill her??? Look man I love Athena but this is such a stupid way to rationalize her treatment of Medusa. If you don’t like how evil she is when written by Ovid then why not just go with actual Ancient Greek sources that actually say that Medusa was born a monster and be done with it?

Let Medusa just be an evil scary monster again pls and stop demonizing Perseus he’s literally the least problematic man in Greek mythology. Not only has he never cheated on his wife but he’s a certified mama’s boy.

[feniksido]

For some reason my post about the Heist in the Hells has been getting some traction recently so I thought maybe it's time to talk about my actual thoughts on what I would like to see in the hypothetical Heist in the Hells DLC (my personal hell)

I was trying to figure out a whole bunch of stuff about Mephistopheles and the 8th layer of the hells! First, the vaults are in Mephistar, a citadel on top of a Glacier named Nargus, which is piloted by Mephisto all over Cania constantly on the move. Mephisto has his slowly melting throne at the very center of the glacier, and the rest of the city is like a mini-hell with 3 terraced levels where the lowest level is with “lowly least devils” and mid tier for mid devils i guess and then hellfire masters and nobles and the wizards on the third higher levels. It’s heated on the inside of Mephistar! It has baths and scented fires (not sure what they smell like but I assume something other than fire?)

The rest of Cania is just like barren wasteland full of just the weirdest left over arcane energy cus of Mephisto’s experimentation, its cold as fuck and it has constant surveillance against spies, mostly spies sent by Dispater, mr THE Arms Dealer of all the planes, so you know that motherfucker mephistopheles is very used to these types of people showing up and trying to go into the vaults and such

NOW Helsik very specifically used the words “I punched a portal into the Archdevil’s dusty vaults”, so I assume it was directly into the vaults that they fell into. I'm not sure how this is even possible but i'm not one to ask questions that i will never understand the answers to (lying, im seething) 

However, regardless of the fact that I don't know how Helsik the queen that she is did that, she did do it. I imagine the vaults are huge and incredibly elaborate and probably several stories? Layers? Deep. The items and scrolls and information must all be neatly cataloged and kept track of in the most particular way because Mephistopheles is nothing if not obsessively controlling of all his knowledge and information

However the whereabouts of the actual physical objects must be like.. Constantly changing or magically protected so that those with no authorization cannot find their way through the vaults

Mephistopheles’s filing system is… insane but i do think he would keep track. Or make someone else keep track. He’s very busy. He typically hands down experiments he ran out of time to deal with in his busy schedule to his lessers so I wouldn't put it past him to have someone else also take care of the cataloging. The Crown of Karsus is NOT high on his priority list so i understand how this was potentially feasible to Gortash and The Dark Urge

Actually Talking about the heist itself now: 

I imagine that if a whole heist dlc (don't think we’re getting one but a man can dream) did happen it would start with a bit of exposition. Probably explaining a little bit of the Letters between Durge and Gortash. Specifically these ones:

Then we cut to a scene where they’re already at Helsik’s place. They’ve discussed the plans in depth, they’ve been doing test runs for this in the House of Hope and now it’s time for the real deal. 

Helsik “punches” the portal into the Vaults and they jump in. The portal closes behind them, Helsik will not allow herself to be implicated in anything. They take in their surroundings; they have to be quick, although it is heated inside of Mephistar the frigidness of Cania cuts deeper than anything Baldur’s Gate could ever manage. I imagine that they, having never been here before, look for something that can help them navigate/orient themselves in the vaults. Perhaps that whole cataloging system I talked about earlier. You can choose to ignore it and just go straight forwards checking every room making it substantially harder and less efficient which makes Gortash a little pissy at you for not taking his advice and helping him look for that or you can look around for one but the actual system for cataloging is encrypted 

Maybe a mini puzzle game can take place here, like the one with the brain in Moonrise Towers 

The thingy would then lead deeper into vaults where they would fight Gelugons (the main residents of the 8th layer also known as ice devils) and other assorted devils including pit fiends and pain devils. Maybe a couple dire polar bears also who knows who Mephisto but on his security team

At one point i want to come across an ice devil that much like Yurgir in the house of hope in act 3, can be convinced to side with you and become a temporary ally (perhaps it holds resentment towards Hutijin, mephistopheles’ second in command, and just got sick and tired of the monotony and wants to stick it to the man, i just want a devil in my party even for a second) 

If you manage to successfully persuade this devil to join you, Gortash might be impressed and tell you about how tricking a devil is no easy feat, you can ask him to elaborate on that and he might tell you a bit about his time in the house of hope as Raphael’s unwilling guest Who knows

Moving on, I’d like several more puzzles to delve deeper into the vaults, some that lead nowhere some that lead exactly where you need to go, if you did the earlier puzzle Gortash will be able to guide you and say which ones lead nowhere and which ones are the ones you need to do 

Eventually I want a mechanically engineered door to be the next hurdle which Gortash takes upon himself to solve on his own since he’s more well suited towards this kind of thing, during this, rounds and rounds of incoming security swarm around you both, and Durge has to defend Gortash while he works on getting the door open. Much like the quest for Halsin looking for Thaniel in the Shadowfell, you gotta keep the portal open but instead of “keep the portal open” its “keep Gortash alive and not distracted”

When the rounds of enemies are done you get a little cutscene where you see Durge being overwhelmed by the many devils and it cuts to Gortash who has just opened the door and he takes less than a second’s pause before he decides that instead of going through the door and escaping to relative safety on his own, leaving durge to die he helps durge and they are both able to get through the door sealing it behind them, now in relative safety, they both take a second to breathe 

You as durge now can talk to Gortash and have the dialogue options to say Thank you, scold him for dragging you away from the bloody slaughter, or question his decision to come back for you

I THINK IN MY MIND that the response for all these options would basically be the same, because Gortash is a well practiced speaker and knows exactly what to say but his body language would sort of give him away for the way he’s feeling about the option you choose 

Thanking him would lead to a more defensive “pushing away” way of saying “I still require your assistance, we’re not done. Don’t expect it to happen again.” tsundere ass but like imagine that but better written 

Scolding him would get a sorta like “I cant fucking believe this” as if he expected durge to be a little more practical about things and not lose focus in the madness that was that slaughter and rampage, like i said still the same but just “Argh! I still require your assistance! We are NOT done. DO NOT expect it to happen again if you intend to act this way.” He needs you to focus, not lose yourself in blood

Questioning and challenging his decision but not outright saying you disapprove would probably be playing right into the whole “equals who challenge each other” thing that he likes to do so it’d probably make him slow down, talk slower, make him really think about why he did it and do the thing where while talking he can't look at Durge in the eyes so he looks off to the side or down at the floor “I still need your help. We’re nowhere near done. Let’s not expect this to happen again, yes?” Like acknowledging that yes that was in fact weakness that neither of their masters tolerate (because obviously the correct thing a baneite would have done is let the bhaalspawn die so that he alone already so close to the crown could take it for himself) and almost regretful that he didn't have a better excuse

You continue forward and finally come into the room with the Crown of Karsus and the portfolio labeled “Accelerated Grand Design”, there they encounter a boss fight, probably not mephisto himself cus they’d be dead tbh but maybe a simulacrum or something idk here things get a bit dicey for me cus what the fuck! How do they get out? I thought maybe they do the fight and once they grab everything they need or want they maybe have an enhanced cloak of dimension door or maybe a scroll of teleportation or something to get them out of the deep deep VAULTS themselves and into a place where they can “safely” create another circle on this side with the components and specific instructions Helsik gave them 

They’d arrive home back in Baldur’s Gate and celebrate their victory briefly and bada bing bada boom the dlc is over. If i had it my way at the end right there those two idiot geniuses would get so horny from the powerrush and bloodlust they just experienced that they end the dlc with durgetash fucking nasty 

[ireton]

Warning at Walmart

Grow your own

Buy local

No Farms - No Food

No Farmers - No Food - No Future

Food Security

Advocate for Agriculture

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Do Some Research

Save Our Farmland

[pigeon-butch]

I certainly have my own concerns about the treatment of moo deng but um. well i think some of you may just be racist

[reality-detective]