#helldivers 2 ocs

[coyotescribbles]

And there's another~

[robustaart]

Helldiving

[gehenna-checklist]

Shit man, this Super Earth war is fucked. I just saw a helldiver toss a shiny ball and say "500kg eagle bomb" or some shit, and every squid in fifty meters got crushed, had their tentacles explode and then disappeared. The SES crew didn't even commend them, that's how common shit like this is. My ass is using EATs and throwing frag grenades. I think I just heard "380mm orbital barrage" two blocks over. I gotta get the fuck outta here.

[girl-lostconnection]

Helldivers are just little freaks to me, freaky half feral dog creatures that are tossed to the meat grinder of war. Starving war dogs that do not understand what they are starving for exactly but nonetheless still chasing after what was demanded of them, hoping that maybe, MAYBE, if they go further-If they complete even more missions, they’d no longer feel that gnawing hunger even if it chips away at their very souls.

ANYWHO😌 this is reader to me

“Remember that you can’t save everyone. Remember that you have to try” YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME JESTER OH MY GODDDDDDD THE WAY MY HEART SANK. But yeah, you are spitting facts out here, I’m ready to sign under every word you are saying here.

@jesterinc, my G, this one’s for you

Helldiver!Reader who lives this long mostly because of the kindness and patient teaching from older divers. The shared knowledge, the shared manuals, shared camaraderie.

Reader who doesn’t know why Helldivers who are so much more skilful and who could (and by any standard should have) left them behind decided not to.

Question that keeps them up at night sometimes, question that ping pongs off the walls of their head, echoing louder when it’s too quiet.

Why-why-why-why-why?

Reader who doesn’t understand why these behemoths of war tried to help time after time after time.

They don’t get it until they got their first cadet joining in for a mission.

Jumpy tense thing, losing more bullets than actually hitting the enemy, not used to a recoil yet, not sure how to adjust the satellite tower, not very knowledgeable about the mechanics of battle that are their new home now.

(Everyone knows that Helldivers don’t die sleeping. Everyone knows that death is better than shame)

Reader who suddenly gets it why these older Helldivers helped them, why they carried a new pup on the battlefield, why wasn’t they just kicked to the side.

It is often said that Helldivers as a branch are one big pack of feral dogs.

Starved for scraps of approval, dying too young and snarling at every outsider. Feral creatures. Weapons of war.

Judgement rained from the sky on unsuspecting enemies.

It is often overlooked that the most prominent rule Helldivers live by is “we do not mock young in the field. We do not make them crawl and beg. We help. We were there once. We know how it feels to be a feral dog in eyes both enemies and allies. We know how it feels to be left behind. We do not leave ours behind”.

You that lives long enough to get a little bit closer in experience and skills to mammoths that helped you years ago to survive.

You who patiently covers for young cadet as they fumble with terminals.

What’s a little time wasted if this one might live long enough to crawl higher in rank.

What’s a little effort spared if you as divers already have to prove to everyone that you deserve to be here.

That you are not just dogs. That you deserve the same respect command shows to other branches.

You aren’t going to make cadet “prove themselves” when they have already passed the selection.

They are already here, aren’t they? Means they are worthy. Means they are yours.

Once Helldiver — always Helldiver.

It’s a constant journey and an uphill battle, you seeing first hand how fucking cruel life is to their branch.

How unfair command is. How hard missions are.

So what’s a little kindness shown if cadet behind them might live long enough to see the new generation of cadets.

If one day they too might become what you were to them today. What older Helldivers were to you when you started out.

Your branch is full of feral dogs and behemoths of battle, your branch is a dangerous thing (a grenade without a pin, a rifle without safety, a big bad wolf) hanging on by a thread of believing that your suffering can make the world a little better.

A little safer. A place where young cadets like this one will have more support, more training, more respect.

Simon watches you intently, eyes heavy with understanding, fingers twitching to reach out.

“Remember that you can’t save everyone, Captain”, he hums out, meeting your eyes in the reflection as you watch cadet buying new stratagems with excitement, their rank plate moving up.

Slowly, torturously slowly but steadily. Up-up-up.

They live thought the mission. They live through next three you walk them through. You won’t let them die. Not if you can help it.

“I know”, you muse back and there is phantom feel of hands on your shoulders, hands showing how to properly hold the rifle, hands dragging you out of hell because yeah, no one is gonna save Helldivers.

Other than Helldivers themselves.

You watch the young diver jog to the “Stratagem Hero” arcade, practically vibrating with excitement, eyes darting to you, asking for permission.

Their grin so wide when you nod to go ahead and try it, that you feel like their helmet might be illuminated from inside out.

They are painfully young and achingly fragile, not yet honed by years of work out in the field, their hands not yet calloused and burned one too many times.

Yeah, you remember that you can’t save everyone.

You also remember that you have to try.

[therightrighthand]

Just one of those missions. y'know?

Traitor Squad << Start I << Previous I Next >>

[mr-groovyart]

Did this for reaching 10k followers on twitter. Simple tattoo based off the Starship Troopers one, each pod means a completed dive.

10k -> 10 follower joke -> 10 successful dives.

[calypsos-cavalry]

URGENT TRANSMISSION

DIVE ON GEMMA DIVE ON GEMMA DIVE ON GEMMA DIVE ON GEMMA

Fenrir is not obtainable, we need more divers on Gemma to secure it. That is the UPMOST PRIORITY. I repeat: Fenrir is lost, we need more divers on Gemma. That is the UPMOST PRIORITY.

[coyotescribbles]

*yeets some short writeups of the main LAHoF characters, just because*

Z67521 (aka Z) :: Feral cat in a human skin. Bot-sympathizing (former) SEAF soldier with a very long-standing grudge against Super Earth who semi-reluctantly (at first) deserted to fight alongside Hatchet's unit. Raised by The State, technically government property (even more so than the average soldier, thanks to the "debt" she racked up as a ward of the state,) technically shouldn't even exist, but It's Complicated (thanks, dad!)

Hatchet :: Devastator, second-most senior officer on relay station grounds. Patient, methodical, surprisingly gentle, and a lot more agile than he looks, he's a capable combatant, but he doesn't particularly want to be. Would rather be defending his home than out in the field, but capitalizes on the opportunity to poach Super Earth operatives when he can and has a formidable track record of winning over even tentative sympathizers.

Z is the first one he's gotten attached to.

Gi (aka Guillotine) :: Commissar, most senior officer on relay station grounds. Chilly, aloof, often feigns indifference and sometimes enjoys being a menace; nevertheless, he's close friends with Hatchet and shares his desire to see this war ended - though he doesn't quite understand the Devastator's apparent fondness for humans. Prefers to run things from the comms hub, while Hatchet is more active on the ground, but he is by no means a slouch on the battlefield.

Adze & Bolo :: Two of the dozen or so Troopers left at the relay station, they're the last two of their original battle group and tend to stick close to Hatchet. Bolo is (usually) the calmer, more level-headed of the pair and favors ranged combat and stealth, while Adze is more hotheaded and directly confrontational and prefers the satisfaction of finishing his enemies off personally.

(Adze is also the most fiercely protective of Z... though he'll never admit to it out loud, since he's often busy bickering with her.)

Cheza :: Commissar & the villain of another story, but warrants a mention since he will be mentioned. Has a well-earned reputation for sadism and cruelty. If there's anyone Hatchet hates as much as SEHC, it's Cheza.

[zhjake]

helldivers comm bug squish sfx

[gabriel-the-messenger]

[lotusshim554]

>https://lotusshim554.tumblr.com/commissions

Open January comm now. DM or Mail(lotusshim554@gmail.com) plz.

[darkpredacon]

Squid! A girl I think. She is sending the black hole on Super-Earth.

And illuminate don't have such teeth I believe, but I wanted to draw a maniac smile, so, my squids will have teeth.

I don't know what picture looks better, so I decided to upload 3 versions. Maybe someone would need it.

[cactired]

Sweet liberty

[girl-lostconnection]

Fun funny idea that helldivers have a difficult time creating connections with other people, they’ve seen so many of their own die and not mention seen so much violence (I have seen helldivers whole bodies torn apart with only a torso left). I feel like they’d have a hard time connecting with normal folk but they have a difficult time explaining just why that is, so they instead just tend to stick with other helldivers when it comes to socialization. They won’t make too close of a connection since they know they could each die in any mission, but it’s still SOMETHING, something that makes them feel human again for even just a moment. Something to make them feel less like cogs in a machine that demands for blood and guts, and instead more like people, scarred, broken and bruised to all hell but still a person or at the closest they can get to being a human again after all they’ve gone through

Anon, you have such a big brain. You evil genius, let me affectionately pat your shoulder

Also you are so right because as far as I know it’s very common even for regular soldiers to stay within their military friends circles because when you return from battle it’s just…feels weird.

I can imagine Reader straying away a little from TaskForce 141 because they are military, yes, but they are not Helldivers. They don’t understand how it is.

So imagine feeling a little too out of place on some pompous gathering, different branches and soldiers all in one place, claping each other’s shoulders and grinning widely.

They know each other. Lucky for them not to move from planet to planet, lucky for them not to see what you see on daily basis.

Soap is hanging out nearby, as if feeling your discomfort, because gatherings like this require to be in formal attire and god knows after synthetic fabrics of your Scout armour the natural wool feels itchy.

You don’t know anyone here, you are both figuratively and literally so alien in here. A soldier from a different dimension. A soldier from a war none of these people participated in.

Kyle carefully herds you back to the corner when you almost sneer at some navy admiral, who jokes about you keeping helmet on. Who jokes about the cape of your uniform.

Man of his station is supposed to know that it’s mandatory part of your uniform. Man of his station is supposed to recognise that cape is Helldiver’s honour. A symbol of the branch as a whole. An insignia of all your sacrifices.

The mood shifts when a new group walks in the room, boots too heavy, uniform just a hairspread of being an armour, capes behind each and every one of them.

Your whole face lights up as you make your way to them through the crowd, the pack of four Helldivers perking up when they notice you pushing through them.

You salute the group, eyes quickly scanning the ranks of them, your body practically vibrating with excitement.

Finally, that’s someone who you can properly mingle with.

Helldivers circle around you, greeting you properly, their capes — different colours and patterns, signifying specialisation of each of them. Demolitions, terminid exterminator, ranger, medic — you have never met them before and they don’t know you, but it doesn’t matter in this moment.

Because in this room, there is no one else who would understand you better. There is no one else you’d rather chat with about the last improvements on the battlefield or the latest updates to the ship, cackling when the ranger of their team jokes about stealing you and the bright head of yours.

It’s lovely. You haven’t had this much fun in ages and maybe that’s why you don’t notice immediately the shift in the mood all around you.

Other soldiers pulling away, command watching you with barely concealed disapproval. They can’t say anything to you — the gathering was organised specifically for soldiers to mingle but you can see how uncomfortable your lot makes them.

Weird soldiers. Wild soldiers. Alien soldiers.

Rumour mill is already turning, pack around you tensing up and pulling back as well. But they are pulling back with you. They aren’t leaving you behind.

It doesn’t matter that you didn’t know each other until ten minutes ago, it doesn’t matter that your due is all that ties you together. None of it matters.

Once Helldiver — always Helldiver. And your lot may be wild and rowdy and alien to these folks. But they aren’t to you. And you aren’t to them.

So when their demolitions expert hooks his arm over your elbow and pulls you back, you don’t protest instead chatting them up about grenades they usually use.

And when their medic and exterminator “accidentally” position themselves so they could cover you both, you just murmur quiet thanks.

They are the biggest of the team, moving like a well-oiled machine — practiced ease of it testament to years of service together, testament to many such gatherings and unfriendly faces.

Exterminator of their team bumps your hip with theirs and slings their arm over your shoulder — their side pressing into yours, warm and human. Silent reminder to cheer up.

It doesn’t matter whether or not others like you, whether or not you are even welcome here. While these shitty parties have at least one Helldiver you will never be alone. You will always be part of the team and part of the family.

That day, when you leave the gathering your tracker blinks with four new connections.

Your shoulders still aching from how hard you hugged the whole pack of your new comrades before saying goodbyes.

141 just watches you silently, Kyle’s fingers tightening when Helldivers they don’t know (though what difference does it make) touch you, like you are theirs. Like they can just take you to themselves, like they don’t even have to steal you away — you’d go willingly, naturally gravitating towards those who understand you better. Towards those who aren’t regular soldiers.

Kyle doesn’t miss the way the tallest of the team, stares down anyone who’d like to approach your little gathering. Helldiver’s bright, ridiculously flashy cape — blue with orange attracting way too much attention.

In nature those who are so colourful are the most poisonous.

Soldier catches Kyle’s gaze and tilts his head to the side, their helmet a menacing angular thing with scribbled “one shot - one kill” just above the visor.

A sniper.

“Like a bloody fortress, aren’t they?”, John hums, nursing his glass, eyes trailing the whole group, eyes hardening when another Helldiver presses themselves against you with ease that grates on John’s nerves. Fucking wanker.

John doesn’t miss the way others in the room steer clear of the group.

John also doesn’t miss that Helldivers themselves aren’t too keen on mingling with anyone but each other. That they keep their packmates on inside and guarded tightly, that they aren’t the biggest fans of anyone but each other.

John doesn’t miss the way Helldivers hook in on each other and hold tightly, pushing away everyone else away.

Dangerous bunch. Entirely too co-dependent and entirely too unruly.

Just a matter of time before it blows up in someone’s face.

[therightrighthand]

Ch1 - Pt16: Is something funny?

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[kaisu-creations]

a slugcat sona design i made for spaggo, based on a stalker terminid from helldivers 2