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Alternating hero/villain dynamic where each one is trying to fix a specific set of problems at the expense of everything/one else, and consistently take their solutions too far and force the other out of retirement/back to life/ancestors into hero position.

A villain, defeated decades ago by the greatest hero ever known, one day awakes again. A regular person stands above them, and begs for help. They say the world has been taken over by the hero who defeated you, and they need your help to get rid of him.

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I present u with…Leopard Gecko Hydra: THE MOST FEROCIOUS(ly cute) variant  🦎✨

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There's wholesome ships and there's toxic ships, but I'd like to coin 'sodium chloride ships', where the individuals involved are both horrible and dangerous people, but somehow being together renders them surprisingly well-adjusted (if a little salty).

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Texas, and I can't remember if it was Soul Eater or Arpeggio of Blue Steel that was my official first.

That post about death note being "everyone's first anime" (untrue statement) made me curious and now I want to gather data for science

Can you reblog this and tell me where are you from and what was your starter anime?

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Typical void sound 🖤😅

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found this detailed map of the island of Mata Nui from Bionicle that I drew when I was a kid circa 2003 and is legitimately so old that it looks like a historical document now

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just so everyone understands how tall Toa are

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GeGeGek

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Tranch

online posting is like military combat and im the brave general and you are all the footsoldiers fighting in the tranches

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Haruna for the start of the year - danger noodle year!

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Futuna

Free World League

October 3153

“Halt!” The police VTOLs follow closely behind the runaway truck, chasing it as it careens through the streets, trailer whipping behind it.

Mallory, lying on her back in the trailer, cusses and clicks her radio. “Watch it up there!”

The driver chuckles. “Aw, is our passenger missing out on her beauty sleep?”

A moment of silence, then a second voice comes over the radio. “Your mark is coming up Mallory.”

She copies, and reaches up, fumbling a little in the darkness, then presses down the power button.

Beneath her raised legs, something begins to hum, and the lighting in the cockpit flickers on, screens coming to life and HUD elements popping into her field of view.

Reactor: Online.

A central screen pops up with a map of the city, twin red dots marking the following helicopters. Her barebones EWAR suite picks up the radio chatter of the police.

“Reading fusion reaction in the trailer! Contact the Garrison!”

Sensors: Online.

On a screen on her lower right, three readouts pop up, followed by a targeting reticule on the HUD.

Weapons: Online

Pushing her foot pedals down and gunning the throttle, Mallory fires the jets on her Stinger’s twin back pylons, easily tearing through the thin sheet metal of the trailer;a shell, and launching the laying mech into the air, where she brings it upright, and comes down hard on the road, truck racing away behind her. The helicopters swerve, but each catches a burst from her machine guns, going down in flames.

A backwards jump, and she's running behind the truck, keeping pace easily.

“Your tail is clear, truck team. They called the garrison but they'll focus on me.”

“Copy Mallory, good hunting.”

Her eyes go to the map screen, where her seismic sensors are reading four light and medium mechs closing in.

The Stinger stops and spins, skidding a dozen meters on the slick asphalt, but coming to a halt as the dots on the map close in.

The truck vanishes into a tunnel in her rear monitor, and she raises her laser.

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“ you’re so considerate!”

Haha thanks , I was raised in constant fear of upsetting people so yknow * fingerguns *

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Tonight's session was... interesting.

@ace-disgrace-on-the-case

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 "I will kill you all, alone or in groups."

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Keep it in mind...

...the next time you scoff at an ammo explosion on legs, or a hunk of armor with all the maneuverability of a medium-sized mesa, or a scout so stripped-down it would crumple under a strong breeze: somebody built that.

Not in the sense that you shouldn't laugh at somebody's life's work, obviously. But take a moment and consider the fact that it did get into production. Some of them saw combat, and for most of them that probably means somebody died inside one.

So, those bright sparks with their computer-generated models and machining specifications below the millimeter and their boards of consultants and test runs: they allowed this. But they were not the ones to see what it was like in the field, were they? They never prayed with devotion saints could not match, limping towards denser cover with a leg that had wrenched itself in half up to the knee. They did not pass out of exhaustion in a cockpit turned pressure-cooker by a poorly insulated reactor. They certainly were never blown to a mist of scorched meat by an overly exposed missile cluster detonating two feet from their face.

These failures and boondoggles and bastard children of military industrialism- forget the waste and ridiculousness for a moment. Remember the ones who were put inside those absurdities, who died in a disgrace to design. For mechanical mistakes light-years from their fault, they paid the price.