#critically injuried

[radsity]

Woe be unto the one that hurts Laudna in front of Imogen.

[tevinter]

Veilguard fails to realise that for those who believe, faith is stronger than anything, even facts.

Right in the beginning of Veilguard all the Dalish/veil jumpers are so nonchalant and against their gods returning, as if they were convinced offscreen that their whole faith was based on a lie (even though they all still wear vallaslin) and their gods were Evil™. This, again, fails to consider that the vast majority of the Dalish would either not believe or not care because it's their religion, their faith.

Morally ambiguous gods exist in real life religions too and it didn't stop people from believing in them. Divine morality transcends mortal understanding, so their actions are always rightful. This also leads to the concept of a 'god-fearing' person - even the term used (θεοσεβής) can mean both respect and fear. Mortals are humbled by the gods' power and greatness, and willfully submit to their divine authority.

You needn't go further than the goddamn Bible itself to see countless examples of unethical things that God did/supported including legitimization of slavery and punishment (Exodus 21:20-21 “Anyone who beats their male or female slave with a rod must be punished if the slave dies as a direct result, but they are not to be punished if the slave recovers after a day or two, since the slave is their property." is one unhinged example), cannibalism, many kinds of violence, war, and of course, genocide, one of which was literally the deliberate destruction of nearly all humanity and living creatures on earth. The god of the most widely practiced religion in the world for millenia. Ask a devout Christian if they would stop believing in God just because 'um actually he is bad'.

Mystery is also a great aspect of religion, which also makes it an excellent worldbuilding element for writers. Mystery adds to the immersion because just like the characters, we don’t know everything except the beliefs and unanswered questions. And we're not supposed to, because this is how religion works in real life, where faith is about belief rather than what’s fully understood. It makes the story feel more real and engaging. Professional writers - of a AAA title no less - should know this.

Religion was one of the greatest themes in all previous games, especially Andrastianism and the Elven pantheon. Reducing it all to 'the Evanuris did it' is disappointing to say the least, and even if it was the truth that only the writers knew, they should have kept it that way, or at least some of the mystery. It adds immersion, drama, nuance, it encourages thought and discussion. For all Veilguard failed in the 'show, don't tell' rule, in this case this is too much exposure, and not even done in a good way. ''Religion is fake, so now everyone's atheist or unfazed. Oh, except for one (1) person who is mildly upset'' is not how faith works, especially in a setting so religious as Thedas.

[jordanstrophe]

Whumpee hasn’t realized they’ve been rescued. They fight the hands trying to stop the bleeding, wich resulted in them also having to hold them down.

Then there’s a voice. A familiar voice that could never be mistaken. Caretaker speaks just loud enough over the shouts saying “Eyes on me, nothing else matters, don’t look at them. Eyes on me.”

They would never see the blood; or how gruesome and horrific their wound actually was. They never saw the faces of the strangers who had no other goal other than keeping them alive. 

They only saw caretaker.  

[majorasnightmare]

the tadpole/brain damage thing. its like. chekovs gun to me. obviously theres very little mechanical support ingame for having a disabling injury, aside from maybe an optional voluntary decision to drop the INT score, but similarly to choosing to write intention into the lack of dark urge Lore responses from the party, i just like to make mountains out of molehills and force game mechanics into In Universe Character Problems

like when dirge repeatedly mentions that he thinks the tadpole is doing something beneficial for him, that its helping him, it isnt JUST the power-hungry psionic ambition in him. its a parasite, that needs a host. it needs a LIVING host, or its own chances of survival plummet. and dirge gets tadpoled right after a life threatening injury to the tadpoles preferred habitat. neither of them want to die!! dirges body tries to recover, but cant in part BECAUSE of the tadpole (the netherese stasis magic rejecting outside influence and binding it to its host, having an unejectable foreign object in the injury site, etc), but its not like the tadpole WANTS its host to have a life altering injury

its not like its malicious (except when it comes to Hive Activity, and then it can be a right bastard), it just cant live any other way. it cant help what it is. halsin calls the illithid life cycle abberant and unnatural, but brood parasitism exists throughout the natural kingdom. is the wasp egg evil for having been laid in a caterpillar?

its first moments of life outside the brine pool, and its new home, its new life, its host, its caregiver, its food supply, is bleeding and dying and falling apart and trying to fix itself but cant and its trying to heal around you but it cant but if it doesnt do anything youll both die, so this larva, this tiny worm of psionic potential and instinct, does what it can. holds its host together with whatever force it can muster, soft gelatinous body (perfect for compreesing flat and squeezing through small orifice openings) keratinizing outside the acidic environment of the brine, its four oral tentacles (its only source of motion and movement when so young and soft, dragging itself along as best it can) made for interweaving with dense synapse clusters to passively absorb the psionic imprint of its host, now desperately intwined with bleeding meat just to try and hold it all together. driven by survival instict and a vessel of psychic potential, forced into passivity by the commands of the Elder, further forced by circumstance to leverage all its great gifts to keep its host standing long enough to eventually eat

my thought is that the reason why dirge still gets the cutscene of the emperor tadpoling him at the beginning of the game, is that the original tadpole orin forced on him is just so weakened and exhausted by months of effort trying to keep him alive through kressas experiments and meddling, that the emperor, currently in thrall to the absolute, feels the need to replace it with a fresher healthier specimen, which then cannibalizes and absorbs the previous one, and then just has to go back to doing the same shit as the last one.

i think that dirges tadpole isnt as twitchy or squirmy as the others because of it. that when omeluum gives him a psychic MRI, the tadpole is just burrowed down and its tendrils stretched like a dense net throughout dirges brain tissue, only moving or writhing occasionally but definitely not as mobile as usual, its web of tendrils especially twisted near dense scar tissue at the back of his head. this worm is already so fucking weird and the circumstances for this mind flayer MRI have already introduced a bajillion different variables that need accounting for, that i dont think omeluum immediately groks the specifics of whats going on but CAN peg the "you have brain damage and your worm is fucking Weird" situation fairly easily. but i dont think it gets enough time in dirges head to get a full understanding of what the tadpole is doing FOR him

cuz like. imo its definitely objectively helping. its a psychic information bank specifically designed to interface with a human brain. the reason why dirge isnt experiencing too many of the side effects of brain damage is because the parasite is doing its best to mitigate them. memory issues, brain fog, disorientation and balancing issues, theyd all be significantly worse without the parasite. when he brings up how he feels its helping him, objectively hes right and its not even the kickass psychic powers hes right about.

like it doesnt cure EVERYTHING, he has chronic migraines that are sensitive to light, and before he asks halsin to make medicine, he starts every morning puking his guts out when the morning sun makes him so nauseous he cant hold dinner down. even without the Urge Nightmares, he has insomnia and just cant meaningfully sleep. but keeping track of what day it is, remembering what happened a few hours ago or the other day, standing up from a sitting position and not immediately wobbling and/or collapsing, retaining his old muscle memory. all shit the parasite is helping with

which is why i cant help but fixate on those moments immediately after defeating the absolute. like oh thats juicy

[hofudlaus]

My forbidden girlie design thoughts drawn in piles

[pipinpali]

Unlike

—--

1/?? — Screwed Up

Next part ->

TW!: blood, injury, mentions of death, language, violence

Word count ~ 1000 words

—--

Randall crawled out from beneath heap of metal scraps and junk which was supposed to be the entrance of his home; evident by the old carvings on one of the pieces of cardboard from the couple of kids that liked to follow him around.

'These storms are more of a problem than I thought,' the smallfolk bristled. He sighed, deciding to get to fixing it later, and brushing away the feeling.

He was a busy man with deals to make and suckers to cheat. With his self-built confidence, he adjusted his scarf, tugged at his socks, slicked back his hair, and brushed off his coat. Content with his look, he made his way through town.

Unfortunately, travel wasn't the easiest thing in the homey town (which Randall had never learned the name of in all of his 9 years living there), in fact, it was one of the hardest.

Randall dashed towards the exit of the dark alley, stopping abruptly before he was cast in the light of the orangey last hours of sunshine. He peeked around the corners for the beast that made him believe the "man's best friend" title was bullshit. Good thing for him, all he could see was the metal rod in the ground and the thick chains that it was usually tied to. He was relived he didn't have to climb up the old downpipe today.

There was still dangers that Randall had to face, the most important being one of those big people. Despite the charismatic smallfolk's rather impressive height of 12.7 cm, amongst giants; he was thought of like a rat.

With that in mind, Randall carefully, cautiously, stayed near the towering apartment buildings, making sure he wasn't close to the middle of the sidewalk where all the foot traffic of a couple of people here and there was. Over the half hour or two he was scampering along, there were a few close calls of almost being spotted, but he prevailed and made it to his destination.

Readying himself, Randall jumped and caught his hands on the grooves of the decorated stone which acted somewhat like a ladder for the folks that visited. He climbed -- ableit with a bit of struggle -- up the massive building, one that was home to the Bright Market, the "hot-spot for money making." Heaving himself onto the back of the large, glowing sign that read something along the lines of "Pet-ee's," he was met with familiar sight of the bustling stalls.

Randall knew where he needed to be, as did the fools who accepted his offer. Little did he know, though; that it might be his last.

He walked towards the back of market, nearing the edge of the vast roof-top, where he saw the same brute of a man sitting on a makeshift bench; the one who asked for his services in the first place.

The conman leaned against a post, eyeing the client with his usual confident gaze, the phantom of an amused smile on his face. "So, you got the bits?" He inquired.

"I've heard from a friend that you have quite the reputation, Mr. Franklin," the toned man stated with his deep, gravely voice, his fingers tracing his whiskers.

Randall bristled. He didn't tell the man his last name. Things sudden felt a lot less safe. From the corner of his eye, he could spot a handful of others nearing where they were conversing. "...I see you have," he responded, attempting to keep up his charismatic demeanor, though; the change in tone made it known that he had a good idea as to what was going on.

"...They said they wanted the money back," the man said, finally making eye contact with Randall. He sat up at an intimidating height, slowly walking up to meet Randall at just a couple inches of distance. Something was definitely wrong.

The he dared to try and dart off to the side before things got messy- being gutted in the stomach, now pinned between the wall and the brutish man's arm before he could even get two steps away.

Randall struggled to get free, his legs kicking against the other's, searching for to get back to the floor as his hand scrambling to grab at his side for his dagger which had fallen onto the floor.

His eyes widend as the man drew back his arm; fist tightened.

Shit.

...

...

...

In his blurry vision, he squinted, trying to make sense of the growing lights and the loud growl that sounded louder and louder as a silhouette became more clear--

Randall had figured out it was a car before the very second he was nearly run over. 'Those assholes tossed me on the road while I was unconscious!' he realized. Before he could get too angry about it, adrenaline buzzed in his head. He needed to get somewhere safe before something killed him.

As Randall attempted to stand, a shot of pain in his legs knocked him back to the ground. He reeled, sucking in air before he let out a strangled cry. 'Don't do that again,' he noted to himself.

Pitifully and painfully, he reached out his arms and started pulling himself through the gravely pavement, his body scraping against the rough texture as all nine of his fingers grasping and a few prayers setting him on his way.

After a while, the smallfolk's sensitive ears perked up at another noise — this time not a massive car barreling towards him — but instead, it was the stirrings of rain. It didn't take long for him to pelted with the sudden downpour.

Randall idly thought about giving up, yet the illuminating, towering street light ahead, standing out admists the dark, filled him with an odd and unfamiliar sense of hope.

He was close, he could leave this okay.

With that, the now determined and drenched smallfolk trudged through the ever growing puddles, nearing the sidewalk. He thanked the gods that there weren't any big people out at this hour.

Randall was so determined, in fact, that he didn't pick up the final noise over the rain.

The most important one.

It wasn't until the light had flickered that the little conman's focus had faltered, the instinctual reminder to scan his surroundings only now ringing in his head. His mildly articulated ears perked up at the sound of something distant, almost sounding like scraping thuds...? It was rythmatic, a set pace. And like the car, it neared closer, and became louder.

Randall almost shrieked at the sight of two giant work shoes that appeared far too early and far too close, accompanied by two impossibly long legs, arms, and... -He couldn't run, he realized, nor hide. He was at the mercy of a big person of all things.

He was screwed.

Wowie kazowie lookie here!! Me? Writing?? Impossible!

—--

Im planing on making more of these but this is just here for now incase

their first meeting!! First time writing something like this,,

I made a drawing before right here of the final scene ,

[ariadne-mouse]

Essek. Shrunken yellow sweater-now-crop-top. You know what to do.

As you wish! >:3

Below is the unofficial sequel to this related doodle:

He really should be wearing multiple layers, but we're ignoring that For The Bit.

[gildedoak]

SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER

But only for part of this. The other is a theory.

Essentially, I thought too long about the "what if Orym multi-classed into a barbarian and got to release all that pent-up rage?" idea. And he asked Morrigan to make him "more capable." HOW DOES THAT MANIFEST??

YA'LL. You know if something remotely like this happens, we'll be able to hear Travis scream with delight through the fabric of space-time.

(Image description below the cut!)

[Image Description: a sketchy comic about Orym's deal with Nana Morri.

Panel 1: (Wide shot of Orym struggling to get up, using his sword to push himself up. He's bleeding from multiple wounds, and the sky above is red, Exandria a small blue dot in the sky.) Badguy (offscreen): You are just a lone, little man in a big fight. What can YOU do?

Panel 2: Fearne: ORYM! (She reaches for him)

Panel 3: Nana Morri (her voice in Orym's mind): Get up. Orym: N-Nana Morri? (his silhouette hacks up a mouthful of blood) Nana: Get up, little Ashari.

Panel 4: Orym: I... (Close up of his left eye, where a yellow-green light has started to shine. Blood trickles down his face, over his eye)

Panel 5: Orym: would like... (Close up of his right hand, clenching the sword)

Panel 6: (A ghostly red silhouette of Nana Morri hovers in the air over Orym, her fanged smile and clawed hands filling the space. Orym is standing, but a little crookedly. Yellow-green light continues to waft like smoke from his left eye.) Nana: You aren't done yet. Orym: ...to rage.

End Image Description]

[rickeajacksons]

[calcified-fluorited]

Ok probably a bad faith read of Arcane but it IS a pet peeve of mine with any media when the villains are the ones who have something visibly 'different' about them.

Silco's half paralyzed face and his eye. I can't help but think that these were meant to communicate more about his villainy.

The chembarons- I mean, do i need to explain?

this is not a callout post, just a trope that not even arcane is exempt of. It must be tempting to some writers to use visual features to communicate that someone is evil but... come on... stop that.

[sea-buns]

orym dropped, what, three times? four? and two failed death saves? im exhausted just thinking about it.

[radsity]

monstrous sapphic love, nothing else like it tbh

[Image description: an illustration of Imogen and Laudna from Critical Role. Imogen is unconscious from being torn up in battle, and Laudna towers over her protectively in her form of dread. Tree branches and flowers and fungi sprout from Laudna, and she's framed by other crooked, creepy trees in the background. She snarls ominously at the viewer, daring anyone to touch her girlfriend. End ID]

[thomas-mvller]

34': Neuer! What a save! A cross into the Bayern box from the left is poorly dealt with and Pefok is able to get the ball down and fire on the turn. Neuer tips over in agile fashion, and the resulting corner is deflected behind for another, before that next one is cleared to safety. 90+2': Union work a late move onwards and Vertessen is in on the left. He fires across but Neuer saves excellently. It's then adjudged to be offside, yet still, what a great save. - Live commentary taken from 365 Scores

[ghostsarchives]

Happy Pride Month to all peoples and Critters! Enjoy a small one of our lovely resident Gunslinger.

(Refrences for shirt and mug idea below)

[jordanstrophe]

CW: Forced medical whump, held down, hurt/comfort

Whumpee snapped awake to a hand on their forehead pinning them down. They heard someone mutter in the background “Okay... 3..2..1..” before searing pain broke through their body. 

They cried and grabbed the wrist holding their head down, their mouth running without them, begging “Stop- please stop, STOP IT-”

Someone shushed them softly, but it didn’t stop. Whumpee gripped two of their fingers and tried to pry them off, -which did succeed in getting them to let go of their forehead, as they instead switched to holding whumpee’s hand and letting them squeeze.

“You’re okay, breathe, in and out. We almost got it.” Caretaker’s voice sounded clear, but far away. 

~Got what?~ Whumpee thought to themselves, unable to speak the words. They felt something get ripped from their body as they let out one last desperate scream. The pain quickly faded along with their consciousness as a single tear escaped down the side of their face. A hand quickly wiped it away and touched their cheek.

The last thing they heard was “We’re not losing you today.”

[darkmodepls]

Can we get some more Jason 'Angel' Fenton ?

Also do you have a ao3?

I mainly use my ao3 account to collect bookmarks and haven't posted anything in a while, sorry.

To make it up to you, here's some more backstory from Jason 'Angel' Fenton.

Due to Amity's tendency to drift around and how that motion is based on its citizens' subconscious, the city actually got relatively close to Gotham for a brief period of time.

It was long enough for Oswald Cobblepot to reconnect with his cousin and goddaughter, and for Waylon Jones to decide on moving closer to his half sister.

It was also just long enough for Angel to be recognized by LOA operatives and kidnapped.

***

Angel had no memory of who he was before waking up in a GIW lab, only briefly flashbacks to rain and wet earth and a statue of his namesake. His past remained a mystery throughout the Seige of Amity Park and the City Council's attempts to clean up the mess left behind. And while he would love to get some answers, the young mad had more important things to worry about.

Angel was a grad student halfway to a doctorate in English and a new husband with a toddler. Between all of that and his blackouts, he genuinely didn't have time to pursue his origins.

***

Angel's blackouts were an ongoing problem for him. Every so often, he would 'wake up' somewhere else with no memory of the past several hours. According to Jazz and their friends, he would still do things during these blackouts, but it would be clear that the lights were on, yet no one was home.

It was more annoying than anything.

This time however, he woke up on a plane surrounded by people speaking a foreign language.

A subtle glance out the window revealed they were over the ocean, so he decided playing dumb would be the best decision for now.

***

He would continue to play dumb for the next several weeks, feigning catatonia as he tried to find a form of communication that wasn't being closely monitored.

Most of the people, ninjas? In the base have elected to ignore Lady Talia's new pet including the apparent king of this weird cavernous base.

Talia herself seemed to grow gradually more concerned and frustrated with his lack of reaction. She constantly tried to get him to respond to her, calling him Jason and insisting that her son call him brother.