#mighty compassion

[druidshollow]

slugcat ocs, all purposed by someone to some extent

[its-your-mind]

Essek and Laudna, and getting free of the powers who are using you to their own ends - c3e102

[boyrobott]

controversial opinion probably but the portrayal of astro as embittered, disillusioned and cynical due to his suffering in hamegg's circus is a really fantastic direction for his character actually. it's such a human response.

[druidshollow]

AAAAA THIS IS SO COOL THIS IS AWESOME ITS AWESOME THNAK YOU!!!!!!

Attack for @druidshollow! I am SPEEDRUNNING these last few attacks

[aeris-blue]

C is for Caduceus Clay from Critical Role Campaign 2 ^^

[mayapapaya33]

Spirit of embracing change part 1

I see a lot of negative nellies about all the talk of changes with the animation and look I get it. I'm not a fan of all the changes made in TLOVM, but overall, it's a rad show and its pretty fucking cool. So I figured in the spirit of embracing change I'd come up with something I genuinely hope they change in The Mighty Nein animated show.

One of the few things that actually really bothered me in C2, as opposed to my many more minor critiques, was the Mighty Nein's treatment of Astrid and Eadwulf. The Volstruckers are just as much victims of Trent as Caleb is, they are child soldiers all grown up. Their distinct lack of recognition of that and lack of compassion through most of the campaign was always very disheartening. In the end battle their moral compass Caduceus was busy dealing with his burning home, I really wish they had stepped up and been kind rather than their usual douchbaggey selves. I think Beau and Fjord talking Astrid down from killing Trent was great and was the energy I was looking for all along, that whole scene was fantastic and I loved it. But I was really hoping for more.

Beau doesn't trust Astrid and Eadwulf, which sure fine, don't trust them, but like, invite them over for dinner lol. They can be your new fucked up friends on the path of rehabilitation, why are you guys just letting this shit hang? Caleb literally loves them/ used to love them what is happening? Yes Astrid took the job in the Cerberus Assembly, she could be trying to change it for the better, and there's a greater chance of that if you all become friends! You've got your war criminal buddy out there gardening as a proof of concept, keep going! Unlike Essek, Astrid and Eadwulf's situation isn't their fault. (Yes, they are now adults and are therefore responsible for their own actions, but also, come on, what choices did they really have, very few if you're being honest about it).

Unlike Caleb, Astrid and Eadwulf weren't able to escape Trent, but they still helped The Mighty Nein several times, and frankly, the M9 were deeply ungrateful and entitled about it. Astrid let them go! She could have completely screwed them with a well-placed counterspell, and she didn't. They warned the M9 about Trent's shenanigans and defenses. Beau saw Astrid crying in an alleyway and did nothing with that information! Have they not earned ANY goodwill from you people?!?! Christ on a crutch, have some empathy! Sure knock them out if they are getting in your way, don't let them hurt you, but when the dust settles, get over yourself and really help them!

(And before anyone makes a somewhat gross argument about the difference between Caleb's worthiness vs Astrid and Eadwulf being that he escaped, leaving his abusive environment by choice, EEEEEH WRONG his escape was literally having a mental breakdown and being put in an insane asylum which was somehow a good thing! Which goes to show the horrific position they were all in. They couldn't leave voluntarily, they were all trapped, Caleb just as much as the rest. Caleb just had the ?Good fortune? of having his brain collapse under the strain. Caleb has been able to have a life free of Trent for a few years to learn and grow, Astrid and Eadwulf haven't had that opportunity yet, it's just starting right at the end of the campaign. The M9 could have been there for them if they really wanted to.

C3 proves that their relationship is still complicated, as Essek attacks (nonlethally) rather than just having a conversation, but they exchange a polite-ish greeting to/from Caleb so it's still muddled, here's hoping that relationship gets better in future campaigns, fingers crossed! (Caleb, is canonically polyamorous, has two hands and can make copies of himself, I'm just putting that out there. Matt and Liam need to stop breaking my heart lmfao).

Anyway, my hope is that they actually thread together all of the moments from the campaign and now, with the benefit of hindsight, have it weave in and out of the story satisfactorily with the M9 being a bit more cognizant and grateful of the risks they took to help the M9 and their terrible situation. About Astrid and Eadwulf being insanely traumatized victims of brainwashing and abuse. Victims who were trapped living with, working with, and interacting with their abuser on a daily basis for like a quarter of a century.

[electricpurrs]

i never thought one of the things that would most often pisses me off from following a bazillion gringos is people continuously acting high and mighty about the moral failure that is not liking mosquitoes. sorry im afraid of the deathly diseases that exist in my area. i'll keep killing them

[bringthekingdom]

[fieriframes]

[Hey, brother Christian with your high and mighty errand. Your actions speak so loud, I can't hear a word you're saying. Hey, sister Bleeding Heart with all of your compassion. Your labors soothe the hurt, but can't assuage temptation.]

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 64

Chapter; Highlights

Hours later, Yrene was still shaking.

At the disaster they'd narrowly avoided, at the deaths she'd witnessed before that wave had struck, at the power of the queen on the plain. The power of the prince who had prevented the ensuing steam from boiling alive any caught in its path.

Yrene had thrown herself back into healing during the chaos since. Had left the royals and their commanders to oversee the aftermath, and had returned to the Great Hall. Healers drifted onto the battlefield, searching for those in need of help.

All of them, every single person in the keep or the skies or on the battlefield, kept glancing toward the now-empty gap between two mountain peaks. Toward the flooded, decimated city, and the demarcation line between life and death. Water and debris had destroyed most of Anielle, the former now trickling toward the Silver Lake.

A vision of what would have been left of them, were it not for Aelin Galathynius.

She'd been asked to inspect the queen when she'd been carried in to a private chamber by Prince Rowan, the two of them borne off the plain by Nesryn. Yrene hadn't been able to stop her hands from shaking as she'd hovered them over Aelin's unconscious body.

There had been no sign of harm beyond a few already-healing cuts and slices from the battle itself.

Nothing at all beyond a sleeping, tired woman.

Who held the might of a god within her veins.

Yrene had then inspected Prince Rowan, who looked in far worse shape, a sizable gash snaking down his thigh. But he'd waved her off, claiming he'd come too near a burnout, and just needed to rest as well.

So Yrene had left them, only to tend to another.

—

To Lorcan, whose injuries ... Yrene had needed to summon Hafiza to help her with some of it. To lend her power, since Yrene's had been so depleted.

The unconscious warrior, who had apparently tumbled right off Farasha as he and Elide had passed through the gates, didn't so much as stir while they worked on him.

That had been hours ago. Days ago, it felt.

Yes, she needed to rest.

But a horn, clear and bright, blared from outside.

Everyone halted-then rushed to the windows. Yrene's smile grew as she, too, found a place to peek out over the battlefield.

To where the rest of the khagan's army, Prince Kashin at its front, marched toward them.

Thank the gods. Everyone in the hall muttered similar words.

From the keep, an answering horn sang its welcome.

Not just one army had been spared here today, Yrene realized as she turned back to the water station. If that wave had reached Kashin.

…

Lucky. They had all been so, so very lucky.

Yet Yrene wondered how long that luck would last.

If it would see them through the brutal march northward, and to the walls of Orynth itself.

Lorcan let out a low groan as he surfaced from the warm, heavy embrace of darkness.

"You are one lucky bastard."

Too soon. Too damn soon after hovering near death to hear Fenrys's drawl.

Fenrys's smirk was a slash of white.

"You've been out for a day. I drew the short stick and had to look after you."

A lie. For whatever reason, Fenrys had chosen to be here.

Lorcan thumped his head back on the pillow. "Elide." Her name was a rasp on his tongue.

The last he remembered, they'd ridden through the gates, Aelin Galathynius's unholy power spent. Then oblivion had swept in.

"Helping with the healing in the Great Hall," Fenrys said, stretching out his legs before him.

Lorcan closed his eyes, something tight in his chest easing.

"Well, since you're not dead," Fenrys began, but Lorcan was already asleep.

Lorcan awoke later. Hours, days, he didn't know.

The candle was still burning on the narrow windowsill, down to its base. Hours, then.

He didn't care. Not when the dim light revealed the delicate woman lying facedown on the end of his cot, the lower half of her body still on the wooden chair where Fenrys had been. Her arms cradled her head, one outstretched toward him. Reaching for his hand, mere inches from hers.

Elide.

Her dark hair spilled across the blanket, across his shins, veiling much of her face.

Wincing at the lingering ache in his body, Lorcan stretched his arm just enough to touch her fingers. They were cold, their tips so much smaller than his. They contracted, pulling away as she sucked in a sharp, awakening breath.

Lorcan savored every feature as she grimaced at a crick in her neck. But her eyes settled on him. She went still as she found him staring at her, awake and utterly in awe of the woman who had ridden through hell to find him ...

Tired. She looked spent, yet her chin remained unbowed.

Lorcan had no words. He'd given her everything on the back of that horse anyway.

But Elide asked, "How do you feel?" Aching. Exhausted. Yet finding her sitting at his bedside... "Alive," he said, and meant it.

Her face remained unreadable, even as her eyes dipped to his body. The blanket had slid down enough to reveal most of his torso, though it still hid the scarred-over wound in his abdomen. Yet he'd never felt so keenly naked.

It was an effort to keep his breathing steady beneath her sharp-eyed gaze. "Yrene said you would have died, if they hadn't gotten to you when they did."

"I would have died," he said, voice like gravel, "if you hadn't braved hell to find me." Her gaze lifted to his. "I made you a promise."

"So you said."

Was that a hint of color stealing across her pale cheeks? But she didn't balk. "You said some interesting things, too."

Lorcan tried to sit up, but his body gave a burst of pain in protest.

Elide explained, "Yrene warned that though the wounds are healed, some soreness will linger."

Lorcan gritted his teeth around the sharp stab in his back, his stomach. He managed to get onto his elbows, and deemed that progress enough. "It's been a while since I was so gravely injured. I'd forgotten what an inconvenience it is."

A faint smile tugged on her mouth.

His heart halted. The first smile she had given him in months and months. Since that day on the ship, when he'd touched her hand as they'd swayed in their hammocks.

Her smile faded, but the color on her cheeks lingered. "Did you mean it? What you said." He held her stare. Let some inner wall within him come crumbling down. Only for her. For this sharp-eyed, cunning little liar who had slipped through every defense and ironclad rule he'd ever made for himself. He let her see that in his face. Let her see all of it, as no one had ever done before. "Yes."

Her mouth tightened, but not in displeasure.

So Lorcan said softly, "I meant every word." His heart thundered, so wildly it was a wonder she couldn't hear it. "And I will until the day I fade into the Afterworld."

Lorcan didn't breathe as Elide gently reached out her hand. And interlaced their fingers. "I love you," she whispered.

He was glad he was lying down. The words would have knocked him to his knees. Even now, he was half inclined to bow before her, the true owner of his ancient, wicked heart.

"I have loved you," she went on, "from the moment you came to fight for me against Vernon and the ilken." The light in her eyes stole his breath. "And when I heard you were somewhere on that battlefield, the only thing I wanted was to be able to tell you that. It was the only thing that mattered."

Once, he might have scoffed. Declared that far bigger things mattered, in this war especially. And yet the hand grasping his ... He'd never known anything more precious.

Lorcan ran his thumb over the back of her hand. "I am sorry, Elide. For all of it."

"I know," she said softly, and no regret or hurt dimmed her face. Only clear, unwavering calm shone there. The face of the mighty lady she was growing into, and had already become, and who would rule Perranth with wisdom in one hand and compassion in the other.

They stared at each other for minutes. For a blessed eternity.

Then Elide untangled their hands and rose. "I should return to help Yrene."

Lorcan caught her hand again. "Stay."

She arched a dark brow. "I'm only going to the Great Hall."

Lorcan caressed his thumb over the back of her hand once more. "Stay," he breathed.

For a heartbeat, he thought she'd say no, and was prepared to be fine with it, to accept these last few minutes as more of a gift than he'd deserved.

"Say it," she whispered, fingers stilling in his hair. Lorcan opened his eyes, finding her gaze. "I love you."

"Yrene said you might always have this," she said, her hand mercifully falling away.

"Then it will be the scar I treasure most."

Fenrys would laugh until he cried to hear him speak this way, but Lorcan didn't care. To hell with the rest of them.

Another one of those small smiles curved her lips, and Lorcan's hands tightened in the sheets with the effort it took not to taste that smile, to worship it with his own mouth.

But this new, fragile thing humming between them ... He would not risk it for all the world.

Elide, thank the gods, had no such worries.

None at all, it seemed, as she lifted a hand to his cheek and ran her thumb along it. Every breath was an effort of control.

Lorcan held absolutely still as she brought her mouth to his. Brushed her lips across his own.

She pulled back. "Rest, Lorcan. I'll be here again when you wake."

Anything she asked, he'd give her.

Anything at all.

Too shaken by that soft, beautiful kiss to bother with words, he lay back down.

But until then, he wanted her here. Sleeping at his side, where he might watch over her. As she had watched over him.

Elide seemed to read that on his face, and her cheeks reddened further. "Later, then," she breathed, limping to the door.

Lorcan sent a flicker of his power to wrap around her ankle. The limp vanished.

A hand on the knob, she gave him a small, grateful nod. "I missed that."

He heard the unspoken words as she disappeared into the busy hall.

I missed you.

Lorcan allowed himself a rare smile.

[druidshollow]

today i doodled slugat

[mrblitzblog]

Astro Boy characters on the political compass

[e-c-i-m]

Dear Child of God,

Shine through me, Jesus!

Love, ECIM

Video: Canva Music: I‘ve decided to follow Jesus - Zeno Cover

[mayapapaya33]

Honestly no. Trent is their mutual abuser. I highly doubt she'd ever want to hear his voice again. Sure, there's probably a tiny part of her ego annoyed by Trent's obsession with Bren, but ultimately, he's "the one who got away" and she's smart enough to realize Trent is a nutcase and a monster with an unhealthy obsession. Especially now that she's had almost a decade away from his abuse and influence and has had room to grow as a person away from him.

do you think astrid was a little jealous that ikithon left caleb a crazy haunted house magic mouth trap and nothing for her

[yandere-wishes]

Idea, what if Catgirl!Darling/Reader was called Stray at some point or something and was like Selina’s sidekick at some point, so like Damian can tell Bruce he found a stray and oh it’s just another cat- that is a human

I don’t know, I’m on cough syrup cause I’m sick rn and my thoughts are all wonky

≽^•⩊•^≼≽^•⩊•^≼≽^•⩊•^≼≽^•⩊•^≼≽^•⩊•^≼

Bruce doesn't think much of it at first, after all his son has always had a penchant for taking in lost, stray, things.

He ascribes it, to genetics, to lineal impulses, to the macabre compassion pumping in his blood.

It's all very Wayne to bring home anguished, ferocious, things. To devote slivers of your soul to every hopeless little thing prowling the Gotham streets.

Bruce doesn't think much of it at first.

Damian had said he had brought home a stray

There was nothing unusual to think about.

But then he sees her, really sees her, the mangled girl with hellfire dancing in her sunken eyes. More cat than girl, more feline than human.

He notices the limp in her leg when she lunges for Damian. Notices her shaking hands when she tries to strangle the boy who only kisses her back. Licking at her lips as his nails dig into the back of her thighs. She claws at his chest. Little kitten trying to kill the robin. So Selina in every way.

Bruce didn't think much of it at first,

He's beginning to realize that was a mistake.

Damian kisses your neck, biting into the crux, nestling your sweet flesh between his teeth, he laps at the skin as you mewl in pain, claw-like nails raking at what little skin is exposed at the base of his neck. A dark chuckle escapes Damian's mouth, it sounds like the chirping of an arrogant robin upon first snowfall. It rings bitterly in your ears. He's enjoying this, isn't he? The little assassin boy may play noble hero, but he'll never escape his roots, his love for the pain, the thrill.

You curse silently at the monstrosity born from the unholy union between the dragon's heir and the bat. Curse at the characters from the stories your mentor, your big sister, used to tell you. When did they become so real? When did fairy tales marry epics and birth horror stories? When did the bird catch the cat?

Damian has your arms pinned painfully behind you, shoulders pulled back unnaturally, bones slipping from their sockets. His lips lower to your chest, kissing, biting, marring.

"Damian, when you said 'stray' I had thought you meant a hungry kitten you found in a back ally or a limping pup from the Narrows. Not Stray, as in the cat burglar."

Damian's emerald eyes lightened in confusion "What part was not clear Father?" his inquiry all too innocent for the boy who had been knawing on your sore lips moments prior. There's a moment of silence, as Bruce looks at you, studying you like a case file, like a cold case cracked open. You wonder if he sees her inside you. The traces of your mentor linger along your body like a second skin. Has he done the same for his sons? Left traces of himself amongst their flesh and bones.

You think it funny for a second, the cartoonish vision that blooms within your mind. That of a bat harboring four little chicks under its midnight wings, atop a mighty oak tree. Whilst underneath a black cat licks her kittens, fussing over their matted fur.

"I see the chemistry brewing between you two," Bruce says his voice carrying the stern baritone of a father, yet awkward and uncertain all in the same breath. "This isn't chemistry" you squeal, voice hoarse from all the screaming, all the uncomfortable vocalizations of pain. "This is phosphorous meeting ozone!"

"That's still technically chemistry" Damian corrects, hands clasped behind his back. Perfect little soldier boy, standing in attention. Waiting for a medal from his general.

Bruce sighs, a microscopic smile dancing across his plump lips.

"I'll let Selina know you're here, she must be worried." Your face lights up in joy, she'll be here soon to rescue you. To save you from the bat's nest. But as Damian pushes you to the nearest wall, caging you between his body and the cement, you think it all too impossible to be saved.

Bruce doesn't think much of it at first.

But he sees it all now.

Damian has always had a weakness for stray things.

He gets it from his father.

I feel like I can make this just a tiny bit darker if I really wanted to...

On a lighter note, Fancy you are my bestie so Imma rant to you for a bit (please don't mind this has been on my mind FOREVER and I need an outlet!!) But lately -in between train rides to school- I've been daydreaming SO hard about a "Catwoman Family" (and a "Batwoman family" cause Kate is the love of my life, but that's irrelevant for now!!)

Like we all know Batman has 4 sons and 3 daughters (I count barbara as his first daughter) but what about Catwoman? Doesn't she deserve a family of her own? Catgirl is my running idea for her sidekick BUT when you mentioned Stray!! I was like "Why not give the woman two daughters!!".

I'm really trying to carve out some time this weekend for drawing. And just sketch out my ideas for Catwoman and Batwoman's sidekicks!!

[realistically-rachel]

essek seeing laudna! seeing her. understanding her. laudna who like twenty minutes ago through delilah tried to kill everyone. he sees this woman (who he met YESTERDAY) and sees her anguish and pain and- offers her his home (a cozy, well cared for home with stale cookies and dead people tea and dicks on the walls), he offers her his empathy, his kindness, his compassion, his time, and his resources. and he just wants to help her. he sees her and wants to offer her this way out, if he can.

essek has taken the mighty nein's advice to heart so much. he is making the world better than he found it!