#mentions of other original characters

[chiclet-go-boom]

of things to come:future imperfect

Very Important Apple Pie Points™ if you know where this is placed.

---

"Kiss?"

He's a half dozen meters ahead, crouching next to a hulking mass of metal. Probably an overturned truck, maybe even the leftover remnants of a Titan although it's kind of hard to tell with the rust and overgrowth. Not that it really matters. 

"Yeah?"

"I think I've got something."

Something in the way he says it this time, comm crackling in my ear, tightens my gut. Damn it. Five days we've been crawling over this sector, one shattered street at a time and so far we've been lucky enough not to find anything larger or badder than us. I guess it was too much to expect it was going to stay that way.

"You don't say. What you got, Bandaid? More dogs?" Yeah, that's me. Eternal optimist.

Nearly a week on bait patrol has given the greenie this much; he's got his head down and he's not peering around like a prairie rat just waiting to get shot. The scanner in his hands is waving slowly, trying to get a better fix on whatever it's found. Sniffing.

"Nah, Kiss, I really got something this time. We've got action two, two fifty south of us. I got spikes in the twenties."

I start picking my way up to where he is, ignoring the deep ache in my leg. With the armor on nothing heals like it used to. 

"Say again?"

My own damned fault, this time. Misjudged the terrain like the rookie I’m not, sliding into a pit when a section of street just gave way, hollowed out forever ago by whatever concussive force broke the buildings. Took us an hour to get me back up again, both of us sweating and swearing by the end.

That was three days ago and at least I'm not limping anymore. Not running either which is why Bandaid is point and telling me he's found something to spike his needle when I was really hoping to not find anything at all. 

Not for the first time I think about taking off the Crey armor.... but that'd be suicide. Any drones in the area would have me in a heartbeat and I'm not willing to bet three minutes of uninterrupted healing that there aren't any lying dormant in the wreckage. That much of an optimist I'm not. 

Ghost carefully up to his shoulder, skirting the rubble and crouch down to look at the numbers myself. Shit. "Somebody's fighting. Somebody's fighting hard."

"We going?" He looks up at me, unsure. Under his helmet Bandaid's young, barely out of his teens and pure human. I keep forgetting what it's like to be that young. Feels like I've been fighting my entire life, what with one thing or another.

"What, you think HQ sent us out here just to enjoy the stroll? We're not packing daisies, you know. C'mon." Tap him on the helmet, just above the little piece of tape that gives him his nickname. "Let's go check it out." 

Brave words. I can feel the presentiment of cold in my bones. 

____

Don't let anybody tell you different, there's a real art to walking through the disputed zones. 

I mean, you gotta watch everything. Everything. Don't get me wrong, Rikti can hide damned near anywhere, their shields fooling even the best scanners sometimes. Not the drones though; we don't have to care about them. They'll ignore Bandaid as useless and me.. well, unless I get stupid, the only thing they'll flag me on is ambient temperature and the armor takes care of that. 

No, it's more that you've got to watch that nothing is going to fall on you, drop out from underneath you, or contain a nasty surprise from ten years ago when they were mining the streets to stop the advance. Harry's bunch got themselves smashed when a strip planting went off near what used to be the north end of Kings. Nothing but much left of the entire platoon but what you could scrape together in a baggie. If all I do is fuck up my leg on this run I'll count myself lucky. 

The hotspot on the scanner is our lodestone. Fade and slide through what was probably a nice little commercial area, once upon a million years ago. A shopping mall maybe, who knows. Teenagers and soda pop and sock hops.

A drunkenly leaning sign catches my eye, paint faded into obscurity. The artwork is all but choked with scrubby grass. Something in the shape teases my eye though and I think I could almost remember what it said if I thought about it. A haircutting place maybe, or a restaurant. A piece of faded cloth caught at one edge flaps in a random breeze before settling. 

Funny, what memory can do. The sign, the cloth. His favorite sweater was red, black with a bull's head. For a moment the dust and sweat meld and I can smell spice and lime, taste cool water. For a moment his dark serious eyes swim in front of mine.

Jai Marchan. God, I haven't thought of him in years.

Shred the memory almost as fast as it hits me because it's just that - memory, and an old unimportant one at that. Marchan left years ago, before the war even started. An argument, same old story, over something I can barely remember anymore. I don't even know if Trinidad is taken or not, still on the map or not. He's probably not even alive anymore, not if there was fighting. He'd have been front line day one and we died like wheat under a thresher back then. 

"We're getting close." Bandaid crouches down, hunkering over the scanner. I follow and for a couple of minutes we stagger-advance, using any cover we can find. When the coords hit red he motions us down and we worm into a position to see what we're up against, scraping ourselves up over a tumble of concrete to peer down the slight incline. 

The metal spikes of equipment on his back stick up weirdly from this position, like his helmet grew roots. He's got most of the scanning and communication gear but he's also got the tripod for the weapon I'm carrying. There's still some advantage to not being human even now - Bandaid couldn't have carried this load an hour before collapsing. 

"What the hell is that?"

For a moment I can't answer because I don't believe it. I don't fucking believe it.

Thirty, maybe forty feet away they're fighting.

I haven't seen one of those in ten, maybe twelve years; so long ago it's like another lifetime. The energy is pouring off in waves as they fight, the Rikti soldiers swarming like ants. Tracers of light like fireflies streak across my vision.

Beautiful. So beautiful.

And so fucking doomed.

The massive stone hammer swings, takes a gunner in the side in an explosion of bone. The body careens to the side to join others but there are more, too many more as energy splashes against augmented hide. Blood, undistinguishable from each other, spatters. 

"....troll."

"What?" 

Clear my throat and try again. "It's a supatroll. What, you never...?" Yeah, I guess he never has. They got taken out fast too, at the beginning. "Take a good look, Bandaid. Take a good look because you'll never see one again." 

The troll screams with fury as another Rikti soldier gets too close and a skull shatters as one massive fist crashes down. They roar with approval, arms cording with effort. They turns and I see that one eye is already gone, lost in the ruin of their face.

Red and black. Ice and pain. The hammer swings up even as we watch to carve a deadly arc in the air in front of the massive body. Nothing dies this time but it's only a matter of time before it's them. They don't have much left. 

I'm squirming past Bandaid to slide down the concrete face in front of us. Why? I don't know. The troll is dead. They just haven't fallen down yet.

"Kiss! What are you doing?" His voice is a sibilant whisper like they're going to hear us. "Kiss!"

I'm sliding towards level ground in a barely coordinated fall, listening with everything I've got for the whistle that says incoming. The frantic cursing in my ear is suddenly chopped off and the noise behind me is him scrambling to catch up.

Good kid. Stupid, but then again, they don't send you on disputed recon for having all your marbles packed tight.

So what the hell do I think I'm doing?

"History lesson." Is that my voice? Yeah, I think it is. "That's a troll. You capiche 'troll'? I'm sure they showed you pictures in Basic." His breath whistles through the comm. "Only this one's hopped up on 'Dyne. Supatroll."

I remember, I remember. Stone gods in their day, pumped up, juiced out, kings of their earth. God in his blasted heaven, I remember.

My brain is freeze framing, grabbing everything I know, everything I see. 

Thing is, superdyne's injected, blood borne. This one must have found an old cache, a hospital not entirely ransacked, a gang's horde, something. Cut themselves open, poured the drug into their veins in a lethal dose. I can almost see it. A smashed window, the glass embedded in their skin, opening themselves to the invasion. Ampule after ampule, directly into that massive heart.

Lethal dosage because as soon as any of it hit their system they were dead. Couldn't have been more than a half hour ago too. Just long enough for the change to happen, to stagger out into the street, supernatural energy roiling over their skin. One last fight.

Oddly enough there's no pain in my leg anymore. As soon as I hit a stretch of ground that's long enough, flat enough, has cover enough, I ship the weapon. He's a heartbeat behind but then the maglocks that hold the tripod to his pack webbing release and he's bracing it on the ground even as I crank the pieces together.

"Shit! Kiss? What are we doing?" His whisper is panicked.

"Fighting."

"Why? Command just wants us to map this area, report..."

"Shut up. We've got about a minute before drones show up. Less."

Which is true. I'm just surprised they're not here now.

The weapon is so new tech I can almost smell the factory on it. A prototype that's supposed to be able to take out the drone shielding and any patrol with a super on it carries something like it in the half assed hope that maybe it'll do some good if one triggers. 

Since I run recons that usually consists of me and some poor greenie who's in trouble with the brass, I make sure I've always got the latest tech going. It's not like anybody else out here is going to save my ass.

We have the weapon shipped and mounted in thirty seconds which isn't half bad considering Bandaid's probably never done this in the field before. Settle behind, leaning back nearly to the ground with my legs braced to the side, hands to the grips. Low target, just the muzzle pointing out towards the battlefield.

He's swearing under his breath in a high voice, slamming in the payload. 

The supatroll's decimating the Rikti squad. They haven't seen us, probably doesn't see anything at all. They had to have known, right? Had to have known what they were doing. You don't fall on that many 'dyne needles by accident.

The chilling whine hits my ears like a knife.

"Where?" Bark it out, sighting. Bandaid looks up, his face shiny. Slides the HUD over his eyes. I've been there and I know. His vision is green numbers now, distances, vectors. 

"Mark six niner niner, up and easy!" At least his voice is steady.

Swing the gun and there they are, arrowing in over the horizon, just skimming the rubble. Just two this time, not even going to question that fortune. The first swings wide to survey and I turn to follow, shifting weight. Fucking seekers. Don't even engage the enemy to save their own side until they've assessed and taken the damned data. 

Target down the rear aperture to the sight post. Breathe out. 

The troll destroys the last remaining soldiers like I knew they would. They’re not feeling anything, they never did. A bellow of triumph shakes the sky, arms upraised and dripping with blood, thicker things. So furious.

Fire. 

The tracers flare out, looking. Finding my target.

The second drone hasn't hesitated. The snaking advance is suddenly an arrow bright flash in the corner of my eye.

Yet somehow they see the danger. Energy crazes over their skin as they turn, charging to meet their maker. The stone hammer arcs back to meet the assault. The seeker is firing even as it goes for the kill and green blood explodes. The hammer bounces harmlessly off the shields, sending it flying.

"Up two up, left one! Kiss!"

The first is already finishing its sweep, turning to lock in as well. But this one I have. This one is mine.

Flick the sighting, fire again. The world is halo bright.

"Left left two! Acquired!"

The recoil kicks as I fire the main gun, the gyrojet launching. 

Perfect. So perfect. My little doomsday wakes up halfway to its destination, sensing its mission. The shriek of hyperacceleration rings in my ears even as the rocket enters its murderous spiral.

The drone streaks for the sky but this is its own technology turned back on itself, stolen. Used what they learned, built the guns that went for the EMP shields without hesitation.

The drone explodes in a roar of blue flame. 

Yes. Oh fuck me, yes.

No.

Not destroyed. Damn it. Damn it. It spins the air, listing dangerously to the side but still turning, now reorienting back towards us. Aiming.

"Reload! Damn it John, reload!"

"On it, on it!"

He fumbles, frantically feeding the next belt in. I can feel the cold settling in my bones, arctic memory. Everything is clear.

The troll roars, still standing somehow, still undefeated. Rips a chunk of asphalt from the ground and hurls it against their seeker. Power rips crazily down their arms, imbuing the car sized concrete slab with kinetic force. The shields still hold on the drone but it flickers. Another red thread of energy lashes out and the troll bellows as it impacts their side.

"Fire!"

And I do. Tracers spin out.

"Acquired!" 

The weapon jerks again with a satisfied movement. My seeker can't dodge this time, too damaged on the first hit. The 'jet takes it square and it spins backwards like a toy.

The explosion is like sex, deep and tight. Shrapnel arcs like a fountain.

"Got it!" That's Bandaid. "We fucking got it!" But I'm already swinging to rough target, feeling the triggers under my thumbs as keen as blades.

"Again, damn it, reload!"

The supatroll. They’re swinging around, traitor shrapnel buried deep into their side. Deep, so deep. I can see the bone through the blood. That one’s mortal for sure, as if that matters.

Oh no, no, no because they’re now ignoring the drone. Turning. The hammer tries to rise. Takes one step towards us.Two. A bellow of rage echoes like all this broken concrete grew a voice.

Forgotten, the seeker rises behind him. Tilts down.

I'm screaming back and I don't even know what.

The blood sprays like a decoration. They’re on their knees without intervening motion.

Fire.

The tracers streak out. I hear the numbers, rotate the cylinders.

Fire.

Acquired.

Destroy.

They must have done something. They did something because the shields break without hesitation, shatter. The second drone tumbles backwards, out of sight. A heartbeat later flame rises and a deep concussive tremble confirms what I need to know.

On his knees, they sway. Keel over like a slow motion film. Roll onto their back. I can see the massive chest panting as alien metal pulses obscenely with each breath.

Bandaid is yelling. Cheering. I'm gripping the gun so tight I don't know where I end and it begins.

"... did it, we did it!" Bandaid knocks my helmet, right above where the word KISS is hacked in, reminding me always that I hate that name, I've always hated that name. "We fucking got them!" 

It takes hard effort but I release my fingers one at a time, pull back with a tearing sense of loss. Standing up takes more energy than I have.

Listen but I don't hear more. Not yet. Did we get them fast enough? Maybe. Maybe.

I'm walking before I realise what I'm going to do. 

The troll is still making sounds of rage in their throat. hands flex, over and over. Still reaching for the hammer, I think. This close I can smell copper, offal, the sharp sizzle of Rikti metal that's more taste more than anything else.

I pull my helmet off to run a hand through the short white stubble. My hand is a distant shake.

Have the crazy, insane knowledge that this is Skyway. They’re dying and this is Skyway again and I'm the one that killed them, taunted them, made them die while we danced, while others tore their life away.

The memory overlaps this one until vision is superimposed. They glare up at me from then and from now, a singular eye flaring with hatred, with need. They’re not done. Even still. Even now. 

Their eye. 

-------

"Mother?"

"Yeah, Ranger?"

"You know anything about trolls?"

Roll over on my side and stare curiously at her. She's watching the stars it looks like, leaning back on her hands. The grass is cold under my side.

"Well, yeah. You all smell funny or something."

She doesn't laugh like she's supposed to, looking up. "No. I mean, about what happens." She hesitates. "Supposed to happen."

"Huh?" 

She sits up then, picking some grass between her feet to flick the small threads away. "I mean. I read this, okay? There's some scientist somewhere that says trolls just.. I mean. We just all turn into trolls. Later on." Her skin is dark enough to be black under starlight. I can barely make out her expression.

"Barrier, you're making no sense." And she's not. "Sure you're kind of a troll already. That's sort of indisputable. You got the cute horns and everything. Didn't they figure your dad was some sort of ogre or something?"

"Stasis, don't you read anything they give you for homework?" Her voice is exasperated. I shrug.

"Only when they make me."

Her voice deepens until she doesn't sound like anything, like anybody I know. Like rock would if it had a voice. “They end up all the same. All the same." She shifts a little to look at the sky again, I can just make out her tilting profile. "No boys. No girls. Just the 'dyne mutation taking over everything. At the end they're... we're... just trolls."

Takes a minute but then the sense of it sinks in. I'm already shaking my head, sitting up in a hurry.

"Oh no, Ranger, that's not true. Totally not true. Not gonna happen."

"Yeah? You think?" She looks at me out of the corner of her eye or at least I think she does. "Like you know. You don't even read your homework."

"Don't need to. Barrier, it ain't gonna happen. Trust me on this, okay? You got a little troll in there, sure. But you got freckles and your horns are the wrong color and stuff. You even got.., uh, tits. You are not going to turn into some weird thing, honest."

"Yeah? You know this."

"Well, yeah. I know this. Trust me." Reach out and grab her hand, curling my littlest finger around hers. "Totally trust me. Pinky swear. You're a girl, I’m a girl and we get to be girls together. Even if you don't like it much."

She laughs then finally, like she's supposed to, and pushes me away.

"Mother, you don't know anything at all."

-------

Their eye.

Her eyes.

"....Saskia?"

There's no recognition there, not anything at all. There's a cold tremble in the pit of my stomach. Relief. 

Then I realise it's because they’re dull with death, glazed over. Nobody home anymore. No understanding.

No name. 

"Kiss?"

Look down at the dead hulk. Barrier?

"Kiss?"

Take a deep breath and pull my gaze away. "What?"

"Look, we totally kicked ass and everything but can we get out of here now?" He looks excited, freaked out, scared. 

Look around and he's right. The dead Rikti, the sprawled corpse of the supatroll. The flaming wreckage of the two drones. We're sitting targets. We've got to get distance between us and here as fast as possible. This is a demilitarized zone but it's far from fucking empty.

"Yeah. Yeah." Look down once more though, can't help it. There's nothing there though. Just a dead, stupid troll. We're going to be right with them if we don't get moving.

Mother, you run the play or you sit on the bench.

Yeah Ranger, I know. I'm going.

Turn away, back toward the gun. 

Realise even as I walk that Command needs to know. One 'dyne freak could mean more. More power signatures means more drones which means more Rikti activity. Start to move faster. More activity means more need for the grounders, hit and run. This whole zone could light up in a matter of days. 

If my leg hurts still I'm not paying it any attention. 

Leave the troll to cool on their improvised bier, already forgotten. We've got to get out of here. 

There is only one direction anymore and that's forward because looking back is just another word for suicide.

[haliaiii]

reading up on argenti’s lore

[a-most-beloved-fool]

makes me a little sad when star trek ignores IDIC. like. vulcans are logical. that is true. But 'logical', for vulcans, does not amount to 'without compassion,' and it definitely doesn't amount to 'racial superiority.' Belief in 'infinite diversity in infinite combinations' should NOT result in the weird racist/speciest stuff we're getting in some of the newer treks. It does make sense that some vulcans are discriminatory. They're still flawed. But that should not be common or expected, like it seems to be in SNW. If it is, then it's a race of hypocrites, which. doesn't seem very true to Star Trek's message.

I think TOS Spock does a pretty good job of embodying this. Not always, it was the 60s, after all, but mostly. He was often trying to find non-violent routes, and get by without killing - even if they were in danger or had already been attacked. (See: the mugato, and the horta (until Kirk was the one in danger, lmao. t'hy'la > IDIC), the Gorn ship). Kirk, in his eulogy, calls him the most human soul he's ever known, and I've always read that as Kirk calling out Spock's overwhelming compassion.

It's just so much more interesting when Vulcans get to be radically compassionate. I want them to believe that everything and everyone has value. I want them to respect all ways of being. I want them to find ways for even very non-humanoid aliens to exist unfettered in society. I want them to see hybrids and think that it's amazing. Also, like, disability rep. I want Vulcans to have The Most Accessible Planet and available resources because they want everyone to feel accepted and valued. It makes for better characters and more interesting stories.

[slaughtersafe]

Mirror might steal your name

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Thank you all for an incredible 500 days of love and support. I offer you: answers to questions that no one has asked.

(As always, more can be found in the tags <3)

[front-facing-pokemon]

[hidingoutbackstage]

Something about Tucker being held to a higher standard than all of the other Reds and Blues in the later seasons. Sure he likes sex and makes “that’s what she said” esque sex jokes, but like, especially during Shisno trilogy, the show seems to really like putting him down or treating his love for sex like a comedic punching bag. Oh, Tucker’s a single dad who genuinely loves and cares about his one alien kid despite how that kid was forced upon him? Well actually he had sex with a TON of women on Chorus by using the fuck temple and now has a ton of kids that he’s reluctant to pay child support for. And speaking of the temple, despite it being said to make everyone on the planet super horny and sex obsessed, Tucker says he didn’t feel any different, because making him hypersexual is funny (why is it funny, RT?). And remember how Tucker’s arc during Chorus had him emotionally dealing with Felix’s betrayal? Well now he falls for the most obvious manipulative lies from Temple, I guess he’s just dumber now. And you remember that funny scene in season 5 where Doc is giving Sister a physical exam, and Tucker obviously really wants to see her naked, but because Doc keeps telling him to not come in, and likely out of respect, he doesn’t, while Red Team is secretly perving on her (which they never fucking get called out for), plus all the funny moments of him trying to flirt with her, and her either being receptive or so fucking weird that it takes him aback? Well Tucker still REALLY wants her, but he’s now a childish asshole who can’t stand the idea of her not wanting to sleep with him, and is now super self centered despite the arc he went through showing how he values others, and the series basically keeps fucking with him and making him miserable and barely ever giving him a moment of relief. And you know how he was mercilessly tortured for M O N T H S during Restoration? Well he doesn’t get to process that trauma, and despite all the growth he’s supposedly gone through throughout the series, his last moment is an offscreen sex joke because Tucker’s the perv, get it? We can’t let him have a fucking break despite literally everyone else being treated comparatively nicer or given some kind of levity. Why specifically Tucker, Rooster Teeth? What has he done that’s so bad to you that you continually treat his character this way despite the fact that he’s truly the best (and should have been main) character in this whole series?

[boopshoops]

The last giveaway prize!

Kenneth for @stormyscrapez!! Backgrounds arent my forte- i hope i did him justice!! I love his floofy hair,,, <3

Tags!

@kitwasnothere @lowcallyfruity @cecilebutcher @skriblee-ksk @justm3di0cr3

@thehollowwriter @techno-danger @the-trinket-witch @distant-velleity @scint1llat3

@beneathsakurashade @qsoap @twsted-canvas @prince-kallisto @kathxrat-01

[themyscirah]

Complaining abt Suicide Squad yet again but the fact that they have Waller exposing the alien community to space racist attacks and talking abt how she got to her position through deceit and being a terrible person and stuff is just. Ahsfiwueh JUST SAY YOU DONT KNOW WALLER.

Anyways literally the 3rd mission of the Squad ever (and the first framed as smth Waller picked and not orders from above) was the Squad discrediting and stopping a rogue vigilante who was only arresting POC and funneling white people into white supremacy groups (of which he was the most prominent member) in SUICIDE SQUAD #4. and it's explicitly framed as this mission being personal for Waller that she's hiding from the government bc its illegal like. Guys. Please why are we having her incite (space bc comics) racist attacks now

Also the whole "Amanda got her position through deceit and being a terrible person" NO. she KEPT her position through being shitty and playing complicated political games!!! She wasn't always that way like there is a difference and it is IMPORTANT ppl PLEASEEEE. In Secret Origins #14 we learn Amanda's backstory and she used to be a normal, caring person! Like even after she entered into working in government and politics she wasn't automatically morally bankrupt like please people. She was originally given control of the Squad by Reagan (*sigh* 80s comics...) to distract and get rid of her because she was so successful at pushing progressive social policy in Congress. Acting like she's this static pillar of evil is such a waste of her character and so fucking uninteresting and disrespectful to her arc it drives me MAD.

Like I am NOT saying Waller is all sunshine and rainbows, she fucking SUCKS (said w love <3) but like there's a human being there. It's a progression, she has a character arc like please, DC, please!!! They've fucked up Waller so bad and made her so opaque and uninteresting she can't even be the protagonist of her own story for fucks sake!

Like I don't know how many times I have to scream it until DC hears me or remembers but WALLER IS THE MAIN CHARACTER OF SUICIDE SQUAD. ITS HER BOOK. yet right now she's a cutout to be used as the villain wherever the writers please. Even in her book we get none of her perspective really displayed, no exploration of her thoughts with any kind of understanding of the role she traditionally has played and was made to play in the story.

[tytoalbatross]

god damn i do not post often but can i talk about intentionality for a second?? one second please

i'm gonna be talking about bg3 but this really applies to any fandom space. people will, surface-level, agree that a Black character is not getting enough content compared to their white counterparts because it's. obvious . take wyll, who is several hours behind on voiced lines compared to other origins despite being one of the original five (before they added karlach and whiteified her too but that's another post). it's hard to deny cold hard facts

but then instead of engaging in content that uplifts Black characters and creators, they'll go right back to pumping out more and more content of just their white faves. on its own, it's not actively harmful, but here's what the implication is, whether they acknowledge it or not: yes wyll has less in-game content, yes his writing didn't get the attention it deserved, therefore i don't like him as much. it only perpetuates wyll's lack of content by contributing to his sidelining in fandom spaces

what i would love for fans who claim to be allies to do is to step out of the comfort zone of their initial favorites (which can, in fact, be biased!) and start pursuing content centering Black characters with intentionality. like all things, anti-racism (actively pushing back against racism rather than simply "Not Being Racist") takes practice and effort. you can't really agree with us that wyll needs more content, then in the same breath say that it's because of that that he's not interesting to you . the point was right in front of you doing a jig and you still missed it

[psink]

The fighting (battle) strength ranking is:

Teruhashi(*)>Kusuo>...>Kuboyasu>Toritsuka(**)>Matsuzaki(***)>Hairo>Mera(****)>>>Kongou>Nendou(*****)>>>Takahashi>>>Kaidou(*****)

[Explanations + information about Kuusuke below]

*A commenter asked if Teruhashi would be the 2nd strongest (below Kusuo), as it seems like she could beat everyone with her cuteness, to which Shuuichu Asou replied saying that she might even beat Kusuo.

**Toritsuka is only ranked so high when possessed. Normally he's as strong as Takahashi.

***Matsuzaki is about on the same level as Hairo.

****This placement is referring to Mera's when she's 'wild'.

*****Nendou is low, because he's too kind-hearted to fight.

******Kaidou is so low that it'd be easier to count from the bottom.

*******Kuusuke has never been in a fight, so he's probably just average. But because he was able to fly the Möwe (the flying machine from chapter 106 that's a reference to a Studio Ghibli movie) and an off-road bike, he seems to have a decent physical ability.

[moeblob]

So it occurs to me that I posted most of their lore on my OC blog (though a few posts on here have the story info) and honestly I think it's very important to note that the entire reason a guy from Florida is recruited to help defeat the demon lord isn't him as the hero. His younger brother (by about ten years younger) is the Chosen Hero and... not very good at it. So the goddess (Solei) who had selected the hero has to begrudgingly go back to earth and convince his older brother to help save her world.

(Also Reynold admits to Solei that "Sascha could never be a bad influence. He's the best impulse control I've ever had" and she really doesn't like to hear it. That's terrifying.)

[amigac0debasic13]

HI I LOVE YOUR ART sorry if you've been asked this before BUT do you have a favorite transformer?? I would love to see art of them and I hope you live a long and prosperous life u draw awesome

OKAY THIS. Is my first ask!! And I heavily apologize for not doing this sooner and I’m ALSO apologizing for only giving you a sketch but that’s mainly because I genuinely couldn’t decide which character to do. I ended up going with the basic bitch option because I’m not invested enough in transmutate to say she’s my favorite (one episode alive and then spontaneous combustion) and I also can’t just say the entire beast wars cast so. I guess I go with this thin g

If I’m gonna be honest what mainly attracts me to him is his design. his cool autism is epic too I guess but I’m looking at his big breast most of all.

Since I only gave you a sketch I’ll drop some more shockwave adjacent unfinished artworks and a finished one for a discord server art challenge (I won………) I just didn’t like too much.

I hope tumblr doesn’t butcher the first Image cause I changed literally all the credits. please look at my minor details I changed empire to EMPURATA please

V unfinished + surrounding doodles

I am not an organized artist

[trappedinafantasy37]

It is now time to go down into the sewers and to face Orin. With this run being just Shadowheart and Minthara and no Durge, this definitely feels a lot more personal for Minthara.

The moment we passed the threshold into the Undercity, Minthara drops the alurlssrin confession. Of course, Shadowheart has no idea what that means. But Minthara is walking down into that temple terrified that she will not make it out alive and she wants to tell Shadowheart she loves her in the best way that she can

Did not exactly feel like doing this bullshit of a fight, so I engaged in a little pro-gamer move I like to call, "If they can't see me, they can't fight me." You'd be surprised how many problems you can get out of if you just avoid them entirely!

Behold, the Temple of Bhaal in all its dreadful glory!

Orin is quite excited to see Minthara again! Oh, how she missed her Minthara.

Turns out, Orin is not too happy that Minthara has a new girlfriend now and wants to get rid of the competition. What is it about evil lesbians that compels them to resort to violence to solve their problems?

I have learned quite a lot of things about Orin these past few days. Not only is Orin capable of turning invisible in the middle of a fight, but she can also resurrect the dead! Who knew? I sure as fuck didn't! What else is she hiding?

YES! SHE DID IT! BABYGURL KILLED ORIN ALL BY HERSELF!

Death is too good for Orin, she deserved worse. Minthara deserved the honor of doing worse.

Even though she personally dispatched of Orin, Minthara has a hard time believing that Orin is dead and that her nightmare is over. She is still quite terrified. Once, she had believed that killing Orin would make her feel better. But vengeance is not all its cracked up to be it would seem.

But, it's okay. Shadowheart is here to make it all better. Orin is dead and can never touch her again.

I almost exclusively play Durge and have always found the fight to be easier in a one-on-one duel. Sadly, Minthara is not granted a duel or the ability to confront Orin directly. Stocking up on some spell scrolls and with some carefully targeted attacks, I was able to make it so that Minthara was the one who fought Orin. And she won.

Like I said, Minthara being my only companion on this run definitely made the confrontation with Orin feel a lot more personal for her. She is sidelined and regarded as if her trauma is just an after thought and doesn't get the opportunity to confront her abuser. Perhaps Minthara's character development gets stunted because she isn't given the proper chance to work through her trauma like all the rest. It will forever infuriate me. But, that's what fanfiction is for and I will always give Minthara what she actually deserves in my little stories.

Next up, the Elder Brain and the end of the game.

< The Foundry and Gortash | Doomsday >

[inseasofgreen]

OC ASK GAME

Fiery Addition

SPARK - Have they ever been in love?

BLAZE - What is their sexualtiy?

INFERNO - What if the cruelest thing they've ever done?

PYRO - If they could travel back in time, where and how far would they go?

FERVOR - Are they a virgin and/or have they had their first kiss?

MAGMA - What do they smell like?

EMBER - Do they keep secrets? If so what is one of them?

SUN - Do they have/want children?

SMELT - If they could have one thing in the whole world, what would it be?

IGNITE - What inspired you to create this character?

FLAME - Do they believe in soulmates?

[emry-stars-oc]

New oc with a new sketchbook spread!

Another bodyguard character, this time for Quinton! Meet Mercer Chantry ⚔️

Q and Mercer aren’t as close as Bo and Ambrose, but they’re still good buds. He and his sister live in Bylldewn castle with the rest, and things may start out rocky with a misunderstanding between him and the Beldans (Bo, Ambrose, Betony) but once it’s ironed out he and Ambrose make a TERRIFYING great team. Anyway I love him v much