#should I have split this one?

[mashbrainrot]

M*A*S*H references || Community, 1x13 'Investigative Journalism', 2010

[amelia-yap]

AUEGH

[l3irdl3rain]

How is my best friend Arthur has he helped you baldur any gates

He’s been good! My washing machine broke last week and I hauled it out the other day in preparation for the new one and he’s been loving his new Top Secret Hiding Spot.

We are taking a little bit of a Baldur’s Gate break right now just because I was getting burnt out. We’re slowly making our way through Mass Effect Andromeda for the second time. I’m very excited to get back to BG3 tho.

I left off right at the start of Act 2. I’m playing a Githyanki monk named Ez’rai and spent way too much time coming up with a backstory for them. I’m going to be romancing Wyll this time. I think Ez’rai growing up in such a harsh culture that didn’t have room for soft romance will go together in such a fun and cute way with Wyll. A noble’s son who is just so sweet and romantic and good.

[druidonity2]

My last two brain cells being investigated for identity theft and corruption.

[satans-knitwear]

Convince me to leave the house and see if anyone wants to hang out with me later ✨

Treat me ~ Tip me ~ More of me

[dankmaths]

souyo greatest hit and run

[wildstar25]

MiqoMarch Day 23 - Midnight

With their intended voyage into the void only a few days out, Arsay thought it the upmost importance that she steal her partner away to Kugane, that they might share one more fond memory together should things not turn out the way they plan in the thirteenth. It was as they crossed the very same bridge the miqo'te had once sat on together two years prior when Arsay gifted Y'shtola with a bracelet matching that of her own. A token of endearment which, Arsay confessed, she would have given to her fellow scion back then, had nerves not gotten the best of her. While their relationship has undoubtedly changed since the initial purchase of the jewellery, the sentiment remained the same. Y'shtola was someone who Arsay loved dearly and she will forever be grateful to have the seeker's life intertwined with her own. No matter where their free spirits took them, they would always hold each other in their hearts. A promise Y'shtola was more than willing to keep. She slipped the the string of beads around her wrist without a second thought. They were never to come off, not even when the two decided to delay their return to Radz-at-Han in favour of a private bath at the dead of night.

[ganymedesclock]

To explain The Goblin Problem and not go on a tag rant on someone else's reblog, I will explain it in the nutshell.

The Goblin Problem is when a story establishes a group of creatures to serve as recurrent antagonists (not necessarily all one species; in a lot of rpg games this can broadly apply to "monsters") THAT:

Are never negotiable, or the negotiable parties among them are Token Heroic Orcs- that is to say, they are seen as objectors or 'good' versions who have absolutely no connections to, and hold no objections toward you attacking, the rest of their brethren, who they have forsaken as the price to be paid for being good.

Have obvious unique technology; they may attack you with weapons found nowhere else in the game, demonstrate the ability to speak, have their own obvious language, tame a creature that nobody else tames so that it's thus impossible that they are stealing already-tamed specimens from someone else

Are characterized primarily or exclusively as raiders who attack others, with the justification this means they are inferior creatures parasitically dependent on Good, Civilized Settings, e.g. they cannot possibly be sustainably hunting, gathering, or practicing either nomadic or settled agriculture.

Are often defined as having no choice to be evil or are created by a greater evil to serve as thralls, and yet, will not under any circumstances be regarded as indoctrinated victims, or if that is mentioned, there will nonetheless be an overarching lack of narrative concern as to where or how the survivors should live after the greater evil is taken care of, or if effort should be made to challenge the indoctrination and give them the ability to choose their lives.

What this ultimately creates is that they are unambiguously people, who obviously check all the marks of sapience, who are quite possibly wearing clothes, but the goblin or orc exists as a stopgap. You want your fantasy hero to get into a swordfight but you don't want him to kill another human being. So you invent something that wields a sword but is in some way "not a person", which is senseless. Unless you want the nature of this swordfight to be that a chimpanzee picked up a knife, at which point they are not going to use reliable sword techniques.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

deeply niche but like a decade ago there was an epistolary radio show called warhorses of letters which was actual genuine horse yaoi just thought you should know xoxoxo

You're telling just *now* that there exists a BBC radio show adaption of an epistolary novel about two gay warhorses in the Napoleonic era, who are on opposite sizes of the battlefield? Based on the real horses of the war generals?

[flowercrowngods]

In which Eddie likes words that are pretty or funky or weird, and Steve goes on a treasure hunt for Good Words after learning that they make Eddie happy. They are utterly in love.

🤍 also on ao3

Eddie, with his bright eyes and brighter mind, has opened Steve’s eyes to a great many things. Steve just never anticipated that words would one day be included in that. 

It starts with his name. They’re hanging out at Eddie’s and Wayne’s new place, and his boyfriend is pouring over something — Steve can’t quite tell if he’s doing school work or working on his DnD campaign — when Steve hears it. 

“Stevie.” 

He looks up to see what Eddie wants, if he needs anything or if he wants to run something by him, ask for a different word, the time, anything. But Eddie isn’t looking at him. 

Steve frowns slightly and takes to watching his boyfriend instead of turning back to the magazine he’s been reading. Eddie is more interesting anyway, even when nothing’s happening. And, well, he’s right there for Steve to look at. How the hell is he supposed not to watch the way the light catches in those pretty curls and makes them shimmer, thanks to the new conditioner Steve bought him last week. 

Eddie is beautiful. So Steve watches. 

And then he says it again, quietly, as if testing how the word feels on his tongue. “Stevie. Steve. Stevie. Hmm.” 

Eddie doesn’t even seem to be aware of it, and it makes Steve smile, leaning back into the armrest of the couch, his head against the backrest, his view of Eddie unobstructed and perfect. He just wishes he could see his face, but there is a curtain of hair that sort of prevents that. 

“Stevie.”

It’s quiet, somewhere between contemplative and certain, playful and serious. Steve has absolutely no idea what’s happening, but he likes the way Eddie says his name. 

After a while, he can’t hold back on the affectionate amusement anymore and gently calls for Eddie’s attention. “Are you just saying my name?” 

And when Eddie looks up, he almost looks like a little kid that has been caught trying to sneak into a candy shop even though his parents said no. 

“Uh.” He leans back slightly, his pencil landing on the table and Steve follows it with his eyes, when— 

His smile grows, and so does this fondness inside his chest, the affection, the want and need to go over there and wrap Eddie in the tightest, longest, most intimate hug and never let go. 

“Babe, are you writing my name, too?” 

He knows he sounds terribly besotted — because he is. All of that is extremely endearing. 

Eddie, seeing that Steve isn’t mad or annoyed or demanding an explanation, relaxes immediately and shoots Steve one of his shy smiles. The ones that are for Steve’s eyes only. 

“Yeah? I mean, it’s a good name, Stevie, what can I say?” And then, with a different smile, his lips form the word again. “Stevie.” The smile grows, like it just makes him really happy to say it like that. 

“Hey, if it makes you happy, don’t let me stop you.” 

Eddie chews on his lip for a moment, not looking away from Steve, before he shrugs very slowly. “It does.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I like it when words end on that ‘ie’ sound, y’know? I’m not even sure why I like it, but. Steve just feels too short, too crass, too… Too King Steve, if you know what I mean. Adding that extra syllable makes it feel more complete, more rounded, more… I don’t know, it’s just better like this. Stevie. You’re not Steve, you’re Stevie, because those feel like very different names to me.” 

Eddie shrugs again and then looks at the paper, huffing a laugh and nudging it with his pencil, smile still in place, though it’s a bit sheepish now. 

“And then sometimes when I like a word, or when I’ve made it better, I have to write it down. Or, don’t have to. But I want to, and it’s fun. Sometimes it makes me feel very accomplished afterwards.” He chuckles, scratching at the light stubble on his chin. “It’s a bit silly, I know.” 

Steve has been listening with rapt attention, soaking up every new detail about this boy that he likes so much, only to like him even more in the end. 

But he gets up at that last point Eddie makes and walks over until he’s standing between his legs. His hands find their way into Eddie’s hair where he’s tucking it behind his ear, caressing his cheeks, making Eddie look up at him with those bright, trusting, vulnerable eyes. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, hoping that Eddie doesn’t feel ridiculed or exposed just because Steve can’t ever stop being so damn emotional about him. “Eddie. We’ve been through hell and back. Fuck, we’ve been to hell and back. It’s kind of a miracle we’re still alive, okay, so, frankly, if saying my name like that makes you a little happy because it feels right, I am not going to judge you. I’m not asking you to stop. In fact, it’s kinda cute.” 

Eddie flushes and tries to hide his face, but Steve keeps him where he is and catches his lips in a tender kiss, then his nose, his forehead, his temple. 

“And so what if it’s a bit silly or whatever! You’re right, actually,” 

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to look surprised. “How do you mean?” 

“It does sound better like that, the way you say it. Nicer. I like it. So don’t stop on my account, yeah?” 

The surprise melts away and leaves in its wake something softer, something tender, something more. More than relief and understanding and affection. 

“Okay, Stevie,” Eddie says, still looking up at him with those big, brown eyes, illuminated by the desk light, and Steve can’t quite catch his breath. 

So he steals Eddie’s instead when he leans in for another kiss. Slow, careful, because something has changed between them. And it’s a good something, that’s for sure. 

Over the next few days, Steve realises that Eddie refuses to call him anything but Stevie for a while. No pet names, no exaggerated made-up terms of endearment, nothing. And he loves it. Loves seeing the small, shy smile on Eddie’s lips every time, loves the way his own heart skips, because he’s never been Stevie. 

He never got to be Stevie. It was Steven for his parents, Steve for school, King Steve for high school, and Dingus for Robin. This new name, handed to him on a satin pillow of trust and affection, brings something new to him, something softer. It makes him believe, hope, that he could be something softer, too. Soft because that’s what Eddie sees in him, because Eddie believes in him, because Eddie makes him all of that and more. 

Because Eddie makes him Stevie. 

And he thinks he’s falling in love with that boy. 

One night, as they’re holding each other, trying not to fall asleep because the night is fleeting and they barely saw each other today, Eddie refers back to that day a while back. 

“Y’know, I think the whole… Ordeal has done quite a number on me.” 

Steve freezes. They don’t usually do this before falling asleep, they know better than to challenge the nightmares like that, but he’s sure Eddie has a point with this, so he waits for it. 

“The almost dying part, or…?”

“Maybe, but actually just the whole thing. Because during D&D today, I… Or, well, not during DnD, because nothing can break the Dungeon Master, thank God! But before and after, it’s like I’d forgotten how to talk again.” 

Steve blinks. Eddie, forgetting how to talk? Eddie who’s always rambling, always muttering something or other, always keeping the conversation going even when there’s none to be had — forgetting how to talk? Again? That’s what trips up Steve the most, so he finds himself asking. 

“Again?” 

Eddie shifts in his arms, rolls Steve onto his back and crawls on top of him, his head on Steve’s chest, hands still finding his and drawing patterns on his palm. 

“When I was a boy, I was… Well, let’s say, I didn’t quite understand how basic communication worked, and no one really bothered to teach me. I’d just repeat words, repeat questions, entire sentences without really getting my point across, y’know? Like, I knew the words a lot of the time, but connecting everything was a bit overwhelming. It got better in time, I had a pretty great teacher, too, and then learned to just. Mask it. I’d be the crazy guy, sure, the one who’s not making sense when you ask him a simple question, the one who will answer in terminology he read in books because characters there can talk, right, and they don’t get made fun of, and they just. Get to live. By the time Wayne took me in, I knew how to say what I wanted to say, how to answer questions, even though I would still evade them if I didn’t know the answer.” 

“The Shire is burning, so Mordor it is,” Steve says quietly, and Eddie lifts his head to meet his eyes in the dim light of the room. 

“Hm?” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… But when. At Skull Rock. Dustin asked you to come along and I said we can’t just take a walk with you because you were still wanted, and then he asked you. You just said—“ 

“The Shire is burning,” Eddie fills in, as though realisation only just hits him. “So Mordor it is.” He swallows and puts his head back on Steve’s chest, where Steve’s hand immediately finds its way back into his hair. “Yeah. Like that. You got it.” 

“I always thought it was just a quirk. But it’s not?” 

Eddie sighs and seems to want to bury further into Steve. “I mean, I don’t even know at this point. But you understand what I mean.” 

“Yeah,” Steve says, though he’s not sure he really does. Doesn’t think he could, really. “So, what happened with the kids today?” 

“Remember how I have this thing with words? Where I’ll just say them over and over again because they feel good or funky or weird, all that jazz? Well, today’s word, apparently, was luminous.” 

“Luminous?” 

“Luminous. And boy, I think Dustin was mighty annoyed with me. Thought I made fun of him the whole drive home. And I used to have this under control, the funky words and the non-answers and the fucking quirky Munson freak show. Turns out, I don’t. And I blame Vecna.” 

Eddie is done, and he’s quiet, and Steve doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t think there’s anything he can say, could say, to help. 

And he feels stupid when all he says after a while is, “Luminous is a good word, though.” 

But Eddie laughs, and the tension between his shoulders leaves, and he presses a kiss to Steve’s chest. Maybe not so stupid then. “It really is.” 

“What’s it mean?” 

“It means that something’s shining or glowing. Radiant. Bright. Something to do with light.” 

Steve smiles for some reason, forming the word with his lips again. “Good word.” 

Eddie just hums, and Steve mulls over everything that Eddie just told him. They lie there in silence for a while longer, before a thought strikes him. He braces himself the way he always does when he’s about to be vulnerable, when he’s about to expose himself and hope that no one is gonna strike where it’ll hurt the most. 

“Is that why you’re so patient with me?” 

“Come again?” 

“Your… Your difficulty with, uhm, with communication sometimes, right? Is that why you, why you don’t mind when I need a moment to get things, or to say things, or when I need you to use different words? You never make me fee stupid about it, not like… Anyway, I always wondered why you didn’t mind. Guess it makes a little sense now, huh?” 

Eddie is still for a moment before he raises not just his head but his entire body, coming up to straddle Steve’s hips and look him in the eye. 

“You deserve patience, Stevie. First of all. And second of all, it’s not a hardship — and it wouldn’t be a hardship for the buttheads either if they weren’t a bunch of self entitled teenagers. You’re not stupid. You hear me?” 

Steve nods, and Eddie cocks his eyebrow. “Not stupid,” Steve concedes, a smile forming on his lips. “Thank you.” 

“And don’t you forget it,” Eddie threatens, before cuddling back into his earlier position on Steve’s chest. “But yeah, I think you might have a point that you and I, we just…” 

“Match?” 

“Yeah, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs, the smile evident even in his voice. “We match.”

They fall asleep like that, holding hands, not willing to let go.

And that is how Steve finds himself looking at words differently. He listens to people differently, still oftentimes not catching their meaning, but he’ll catch their words as though they’re separated from any sort of meaning. He’s collecting them, and remembers that Hop once told him what he and El used to do. 

They’d have this word of the day deal going on, where El would learn one new, possibly big word each day. 

Maybe it’s silly, maybe it’s even offensive or patronising, but he still ends up telling Eddie about it, and the boy’s eyes are, well, almost luminous. 

“You’d want to do that?” 

“Sure,” Steve shrugs, tugging Eddie in for a hug because he never wants to stop holding him, dammit. “Maybe I could learn a thing or two, improve my vocabulary just to defy Dustin one of these days.” 

And Eddie just laughs into Steve’s throat, sounding happy and bubbly and excited. 

Steve realises he would do anything just for Eddie to laugh like this. 

They make it a routine. If Steve wants to get a goodnight kiss, he has to tell Eddie at least one Good Word, as they’re calling them now. The rule gets omitted more often than not, because Eddie simply cannot resist kissing him. Ever. Steve still collects the words for him, catches Eddie writing them down sometimes, over and over again, and just hooks his chin over his shoulder, never interrupting him. Never judging. 

Sometimes when they don’t know how a word is written or what it means, they’ll have a look at the dictionaries in Steve’s mother’s library, or call Nancy or one of the Wonder Whiz Kids with their endless wisdom; though even Dustin doesn’t know how to properly pronounce iridescence. They don’t care, though, because it looks pretty enough. 

The questions rise, people demand to know what’s up, and one day Steve tells them. Not the entire story about Eddie’s struggles with words and communication, but he tells them that, “Sometimes words that look or sound pretty, or funky, or weird, delight Eddie.” 

“Is delight one such word?” Lucas asks, and Steve flips him the bird. 

“Fuck off, Sinclair, or you can leave if you’re going to make fun of this.” 

They all realise pretty quickly that Steve is serious, and thad this is important to him. No one makes another snide remark and they all listen carefully as he tells them about how he and Eddie have been collecting the words.” 

“Like me,” El says, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips and Steve melts as he turns to her. 

“Yeah, El. Like you. I told Eddie how you did it back then, and he absolutely loved it.” 

Eleven looks so proud when he tells her, and Steve just really fucking loves these kids. Most of the time, at least. 

After that, nobody questions them anymore when Eddie or Steve call, needing their help with a word or two. Especially when they see how genuinely relieved and happy Eddie is when the remarks, the questions, the teasing stops. Even though he tries to hide it. 

One by one, everyone in their chaotic little group contributes to their treasure of words. They try to be sneaky about it, but Eddie finds out, of course. 

It’s on a Trauma Family Bonding Night where there’s pizza and ice cream in abundance and they all come together at Steve’s place, even Hop and Joyce joining them for the night. They talk the whole night through, and everyone will have brought their word. Ineffable, from Mike. Philanthropist, from Nancy. Epiphany, from Max. Catharsis, from Will, which quickly sends Eddie into a happy little spiral, rambling like he did that first time about Stevie. 

“It’s just, it’s a great word! Starts with a weak syllable, almost unimportant, but it’s crass, a harsh beginning even in its irrelevance. But then you get to the ‘tharsis’, and it’s big and bright and you can’t ignore it, can’t not open your mouth and by extension your mind and heart to this change, this realisation, this complete opposite to where you started. And then the end, the last syllable, and you don’t even have the chance to be harsh about it, to be crass, to be curt. Because the ‘sis’ needs you to take your time, making sure you end the word almost on a smile.” Eddie finishes his rambles and looks almost embarrassed about it, but Steve can only stare at him and find the most beautiful, most wonderful, most intelligent looking back at him because Eddie doesn’t quite dare to look at anyone else.

Steve moves to him, right into his personal space, and kisses him. It almost feels like catharsis, the word still hot on Eddie’s lips. 

“Told you it was a great word,” Will says and they all laugh, even when Eddie and Steve are breathless from just about everything. 

It’s that night that Eddie finds out that they all know, that they’re all in on their little word treasure hunt. 

He looks at Steve when everyone is gone, El leaving them with effervescent, and thinks, I want to spend the rest of my days with you, Stevie. 

Steve drops the spoon he’s been holding, half-empty tub of ice cream on the counter abandoned as he stares at Eddie. 

They’re both staring, because Eddie is realising what he’s just said out loud, and Steve just busy processing. 

“Forever,” he says after a moment, sounding dazed, feeling dazed, dizzy, floating, as he walks towards Eddie. “It’s a pretty big word, hm?” His hand finds Eddie’s cheek, caressing, mapping, promising. 

“Feels just big enough, honestly,” Eddie says before catching Steve’s lips in a kiss. 

They’ll talk about this. Of course they will. But not now. Now, they just create their own little forever. Just the two of them and the love they share.

--

written for @bethespark who wanted to see Eddie with echolalia, but then this ran away from me. well. you're not surprised.

[fernlessbastard]

hot take moment cwilbur is literally just psychotic as all hell and i think people got way too comfortable villianizing the shit out of a man who was clearly portraying signs of severe mental illness. cwilbur was like im so fucking paranoid and scared and i think everyone is out to get me and hurt me and ive spiralled to the point i cant reach out to the people closest to me because im so afraid and lost in this spiral and im having constant panic attacks and hurting myself because i dong know what to do with myself and the only way out for me is to die. and everybody was like EVIL MAN WHO ENJOYS HURTING OTHERS AND IS ABUSIVE ON PURPOSE AND A VILLAIN AND SHOULD NEVER BE TRUSTED AGAIN. and then he came back and was like im still deeply troubled and afraid but im desperately trying to make up for the wrongs i did in the past and the people i hurt in my own way and communication is really hard for me but i hope people know that im truely sorry and i love them. im going to try my hardest to fix this in the only way i know how and then respectfully remove myself from the situation because i feel thats the kindest thing i can do to the people ive hurt. and people were like ABUSER ABUSER ABUSER EVIL MAN ABUSER. like girl

Yeah no based true real no questions asked

I'd hope I manage to portray Wilbur the way he deserves in my content, cause that man is heavily bpd coded and he just needs therapy and someone who genuinely loves him but also can handle his bullshit (which has exclusively and reliably been Quackity like, canonically)

But yeah no completely agreed. The man has issues and has definitely fucked up a lot but at the end of the day he really does need love and care and patience, but also boundaries (and therapy and meds, obviously)

[warrenwaskilledbyadeer]

Can we talk about how the heart and soul of the original Ace Attorney trilogy centers around how Phoenix loves his sister Maya so much he will do literally anything for her but all the fandom wants to talk about is Wrightworth

(HAD TO EDIT THE POST BECAUSE PLEASE DO NOT TAG SHIP)

[lady-of-the-spirit]

Steddie au where Eddie is into Steve but Steve refuses to give him the time of day until Eddie stops being a dick about Lucas being on the basketball team.

[rosalesbeausderholle]

People would call you communist for this (lol) but the solution for the housing crisis we have all over is to set a minimum and maximum price per square meter that you can rent/sell a place for and that maximum price per meter should be adjusted so that it never exceeds a specific reasonable percentage of local salaries. Also, governments should be tougher on places not being fit to rent. No, you shouldn't be able to rent anything less than 45m² as 'a flat', that's either a room or a storage unit.

[nostalgia-tblr]

i was reading a fic on ao3 and it was really good BUT it was 60,000 words (bit long for me usually) and only two chapters so each page had 30k+ words and partway down the first one I realised I'd only ever finish it if I kept that tab open for like a week and never lost my place and that itself made me give up despite enjoying the fic so yeah there is such a thing as "too long for a single chapter" in fic.

[brineffxiv]

Aw hell.

Back up a bit.

So there we were, Venat and I, trying to enter Ktisis Hyperborea in order to track down Hermes, when who should we re-encounter...

Haha! It turns out that despite claiming to not believe my story, Emet-Selch has been (with Hythlodaeus' assistance) investigating the same things Venat and I have been. I am so happy about this. I was literally chanting "Yes yes yes!" When Hythlodaeus explained what they had been up to.

*Ahem*

We have uncovered similar facts and reached the same conclusion: since it seems unlikely that Hermes himself wants to bring about the Final Days, he may yet be recruited to help prevent them.

(ha... ha... in retrospect....)

And then Hythlodaeus laughs at him. I adore these two.

It's too late Emet! You've been contaminated with my friendship (highly contagious) now you'll never be rid of me! 12000+ years in the future you will care about me so much you'll plan for me to succeed after I kill you.

...oh no now I'm crying again...

Keep it together, you've got two whole posts to write to catch up with the plot. No way you're fitting this all in one.

Right. Right.

I find Hermes (and Meteion) in the depths of the Hungering Gardens and convince him to meet with our little group outside.

I tell him what I've told them.

Though reluctant to believe my tale, Hermes agrees to theorize based on his knowledge of dynamis. He concludes much as I have already suspected: that it is likely the varying densities of the people which produced the different effects in each Final Days - the warping of creation magics and the transformations of the people themselves.

But Hermes also points out something new: dynamis is itself only an energy, set in motion by emotion, which must have a source.

It would follow then, that this source... it must be a thinking being, in order to have emotions? Mustn't it? It's not a what. It's a who.

And as Hermes points out, the celestial currents form the outermost layers of the star. If the phenomena appeared first where those were weakest, then...

Someone out in the great expanse is trying to kill us.

Ah. But we have only a moment to reflect on this new horrific revelation, when...

Fuck. Oh, fuck. Hermes, you goddamn idiot.

But no, it's not a new "friend", it's Meteion's sisters reporting in. Meteion proceeds to "suspend" her individual consciousness and connect with the shared one.

Ah.

Oh. No.

Something has gone very very wrong.

Aaaaa!

Meteion is screaming inside my head, and only I can hear her. The rest can tell that something has happened, but they cannot see the truth of it.

And then, quite suddenly, she has disappeared.

Hermes explains that this is an ability Meteion has to avoid confrontation; she alters her aetheric density to blend in with her surroundings.

It's likely that I could hear Meteion's voice just then when the others couldn't because Meteion utilizes dynamis to speak in her mind and my comparatively thin aether left me susceptible to it. This means I'm the best chance we've got to track her down. We split up and search.

Danger music is playing! Danger music is playing! This is not a drill!

Several times I encounter Meteion or her voice and several times she runs away. Disappearing again. I glean from the brief snatches of dialogue that she is fighting her programming to compile and make her report. Something about the data her sisters have transmitted has frightened and upset her, and she does not want to present it to Hermes.

Our search party regroups to find a new plan; I will continue tracking Meteion via her voice, and Emet-Selch will follow, prepared to rain aether upon her to disrupt her vanishing trick. The rest of our party will work to blockade any avenues of escape, a task made easier in that it appears Meteion has fled towards Lethe.

Um. Lethe? The river of forgetting in the underworld? Can we uh... Can we not go into there? I have a bad feeling is all.

I am at once delighted and extremely distressed. The danger music is still playing loud and clear.

The plan works perfectly, for good or ill, and Meteion is cornered. Her voice in my mind begs me to protect everyone. She can no longer flee, and commences her report.

Everywhere Meteion has gone she has found the dead and the dying. Her dispassionate voice continues behind our mounting horror.

Emet-Selch points out the obvious problem in the mission Hermes tasked Meteion with: he did not account for a negative result. The premise of Hermes' question - what others live for, what gives their lives meaning - is flawed, if Meteion encounters only those who are dead or do not wish to live.

Venat orders Meteion to cease her report, suspend her mission, and return home. But Meteion is not listening. Emet-Selch determines to take Meteion back to Amaurot, as she will be needed in order to retrieve all of her sisters.

Hermes is still stunned from the revelation of both the answers to his questions and the astounding oversight in his instructions to Meteion. He kneels in front of her and seems about to acquiesce to Emet-Selch's demand, but...

Memories of Meteion and his promises to her fill Hermes' mind, and he resolves to accept the answers in her report, whatever they are.

Suddenly he transforms. Declaring that he will not allow Meteion to be taken from him until she has delivered her full report, he takes her in his arms and flies off towards Ktisis Hyperboreia.

We chase after them as quick as we can, but arriving at Ktisis we find a crowd of confused researchers outside. An alarum is sounding and the facility has been evacuated and put into a state of alert - a field of dampening magics is now in place effecting any who aren't Ktisis researchers.

Nonetheless, we must enter the facility.

OMG OMG OMG

(Of course Emet is a Dark Knight. He fights with love! In this essay I will...)

This dungeon is a downright delight. All the little bits of commentary and characterization!! HHHhhh!!!

Also I somehow managed to get Venat killed by double stacking a mechanic on her during Hermes' fight and Hythlodaeus res'd her. Hythlodaeus, my man, you are a Bard with a resurrection spell: you have got to stop saying how bad at everything you are because you are clearly not.

Yes, Hermes, you are indeed a mad, desperate fool, but you are a mad, desperate fool in serious need of therapy and someone to talk to. Your problems, to me, seem to stem from the fact that you feel so alone. Your compassion is hampered by the fact that you're entirely too caught up in your own head, and unfortunately, you do not seem to be much of an intellectual. You need friends, people you can share your thoughts and feelings with, and who you can bounce ideas off of so you don't send your emotionally fueled, vulnerable bird-daughter out into space with no means to shield herself from negative feelings. Bad idea, that. Also you need to calm the fuck down.

Together, we defeat Hermes, who returns to his humanoid form.

Emet-Selch declares he is taking both Meteion and Hermes into custody on behalf of the Convocation. As Emet moves to do so, Hermes turns to Meteion and apologizes to her, for being unable to hear out her full report. Hermes has just time enough to ask one final question of Meteion: was there happiness to be found in those stars?

Meteion's answer is long and features examples of failed civilizations that appear to hit close to home for each of our ancients. Those probably deserve closer examination, but that tangent got three paragraphs long before I realized there really wasn't time for it, because as she's giving us this answer Meteion is beginning to leak the black smoke that signals dynamis corruption.

A- Ah. AH. Oh. It's not. It's.

It's Meteion.

The thing out there that's trying to kill us.

It's Meteion. The Meteia. Her sisters.

They are the source of the emotions behind the Final Days.

And Hermes...

You. YOU. You...selfish monster. You bloody hypocrite!

"If man can learn to value all life and retain his will to live he will surely find a way to avert his demise"

It's not enough that you throw your precious creations at us to slow our advance through Ktisis, no, in making your judgement on man you in turn curse every life upon this star to share our fate. Or, have you not considered the method by which you sentence us!? Perhaps you are too distracted by your own despair to truly hear what she is saying: Meteion is bringing death to the star itself, not selectively killing off Man. You know this from my own account of what the Final Days will bring.

You're just like the rest of us; how cheap other lives become in the presence of Man, whether you seek to better us or to destroy us. I couldn't see, couldn't fathom, how you could be the Fandaniel I met in the future. But you've been him all along, haven't you? When push comes to shove you crumple under despair and it's not enough to take your own life, no, you'll make everyone suffer with you. Everyone must feel your pain.

Hermes causes the Final Days. In full knowledge of what he will bring, the pain and the suffering. He knows, and he chooses this. Unlike Meteion, who has become corrupted, unlike the Convocation, who will never know against what they struggle, Hermes stares evil in the face and embraces it. A mental breakdown will not absolve you Hermes, in this moment you damn yourself.

No. NO.

I forgot about that thing!

Hermes orders Kairos to rewrite the memories of all within Ktisis Hyperborea, beginning at the point of Emet-Selch's arrival in Elpis. Our memories are to be replaced with a vague recollection of Meteion and her sisters' shared consciousness becoming unstable and exploding, triggering Kairos.

Kairos begins counting down.

A lot of things happen, very quickly, all at once.

With his back to us, Hermes bids Meteion fly to the far edge of the universe where none can reach her.

Venat breaks her bonds and launches herself at Meteion, intent on stopping her, but Hermes blocks the blow and Meteion leaps into the air.

The break in Hermes' concentration appears to have freed the rest of us from our chains, and as Emet-Selch summons his weapon to challenge Hermes, Venat leaps aboard Argos in pursuit of Meteion. As the two shoot skyward, Hythlodaeus leads me to the edge of the platform. He tells me that here, this is their fight to wage, but that I must take the knowledge I have gained here back to my time, to my own battle.

Meteion is rapidly approaching the bounds of the star, with Venat in close pursuit. Just before Venat can catch her, Meteion shapeshifts into an actual bird (Hey! My friend has that minion! What!?) and speeds away into space, but not before Venat manages to tag her with a spell.

Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus sacrifice themselves to allow Venat and I to escape with our memories intact. Kairos completes its final process as we soar above their heads.

In the final few seconds left to us, Emet-Selch proclaims that he still doesn't believe my story, but, if it must be said, to not squander the legacy he leaves to me. In futility I reach for him, feeling the weight of our history falling into place.

Honestly, I could barely manage to take screencaps of this part I was crying so hard.

But I caught his smile.

...

Outside again, Venat collapses on the grass, exhausted both physically and mentally by what we've just been through.

The spell Venat tagged Meteion with is a tracking spell, one with which we can track her. Though she is already unimaginably distant and beyond our current reach.

Venat uses Argos to check on our friends, now exiting Ktisis Hyperborea, with Hermes in tow.

As expected, they have no memories of the events that Hermes contrived to have us forget, and Hermes himself appears devastated at the loss of Meteion.

Wait, what? No. No no no no! You've just seen, literally just seen, that even when Emet-Selch believes something to be completely ludicrous he will do his due diligence to investigate it. Tell him. Tell them, the Convocation. Even if they don't believe you at least let them know about dynamis, so they can recognize it when the Final Days begins! We cannot reach Meteion where she is now, but you have time. Time to work to stabilize the aether currents. Time to find an alternative solution so that when the Final Days arrive it's not necessary to summon Zodiark. Don't you start this again. This information control.

Leaving aside her asinine view that public knowledge of the contents of Meteion's report would lead to some sort of further catastrophe... Venat is against telling the Convocation the truth because of her fears of what Hermes would do if he learned the truth?? Venat, have you lost your mind? Hermes is one man. The only reason he was able to do what he already did was because we had the deck stacked against us, we confronted him in his seat of power with our own abilities severely limited. It was a very specific set of circumstances!! Outside of these exact conditions what he did would not have worked! Hermes' greatest weapon is our ignorance, that's why he contrived to have us forget in the first place. You are wasting the opportunity our friends sacrificed all to provide us with!

You already know the key thing that Hermes will contribute to resolving the coming crisis! The knowledge of celestial currents! Share this knowledge and you will have no need of him!!

It needn't be senseless and seemingly inevitable at all if you would bloody well tell people! Hope is so much stronger when built on a foundation of knowledge. We cannot stop the Final Days from coming, but you can yet mitigate it. All needn't be lost. You can yet choose to do something different. I beg you, use this time to find a different path.

Please Venat, please do not let your future become my past.