#mighty compassion

[druidshollow]

slugcat ocs, all purposed by someone to some extent

[druidshollow]

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

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

[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.]

[mrblitzblog]

Astro Boy characters on the political compass

[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.

[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

[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!

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

awful lot of Christians on the world wide web very confident that James 1:13 is not true

[nejishadow]

Alignment chart of my teki characters cause the server owner shared the original and I thought “Why not”?

Idk what it says about me with this particular folder of characters but. Have fun figuring anything out lol

I recreated this one tho, cause the original was too small to easily use

[druidshollow]

today i doodled slugat

[magnetothemagnificent]

Not "shake a lemon angrily at G-d" week, but rather;

Gather a citron, an ancient fruit predating the cultivation of lemon. Notice how it has a wonderful aroma, and consider how its flesh is edible. This represents the Jew who is both learned in Judaism and who exhibits kindness and good deeds.

Now gather the closed frond at the center of a palm tree. Consider how sweet the dates of the palm taste, but how the frond exhibits no strong smell like the citron. This represents the Jew who is learned in Judaism, but who does not practice the compassion in the many texts they studied.

Now gather at least three branches from a myrtle bush. Take in the refreshing scent oozing from the branches' thick leaves, but see how it does not bear fruit. This represents the Jew who is not learned in Judaism, but whose good character and actions are exceptional.

Finally, gather two branches from the somber willow. While mighty and enveloping, the willow exhibits no strong aroma, nor does it produce fruit. This represents the Jew who is neither learned in Judaism nor kind in character and deeds.

Appreciate the various textures and shapes of these four species. Feel the weight of them in your hand. Value how different in so many aspects each of them are.

Take them all in your hands, and bind them together like an embrace. Point them in all the corners of the earth- South, North, East, heavenward, downward, and West. Think of all your Jewish brethren scattered around the world, and bring your precious bundle back to your heart with every direction you send it to. Contemplate the place of every Jew in your community, the Etrog, the Lulav, the Hadas, and the Arava, for they all belong.

This is the meaning of Sukkot: coming back to our roots and our bare essence. Erect a temporary dwelling in reminiscence of your wandering ancestors. Come together under the stars, as exposed and unguarded as when we first walked the earth. Welcome guests into your makeshift home, be they family, friends, or the spirits of founding ancestors passed. Surround yourself in your community- and bring it all back to your heart.

[truevedicastrology]

Jupiter's Blessings

A Journey Through the Houses

The mighty Jupiter, king of the planets, showers its benevolent influence upon each area of life depending on its position in your birth chart. Let's embark on a cosmic expedition, exploring the unique gifts Jupiter bestows in each of the twelve houses:

1st House: The Charismatic One: Your presence radiates confidence, attracting opportunities like moths to a flame. Your ever-evolving style reflects your inner spark, and your optimistic outlook paints life in vibrant hues. Physical well-being and financial fortune seem to follow you effortlessly.

2nd House: The Affluent One: Financial security and a love for life's finer things dance hand-in-hand. Your sharp wit and insightful conversations win hearts and minds, while early financial success empowers you to build a secure future.

3rd House: The Connected One: Warmth and understanding define your relationships with family and friends. Communication flows effortlessly, and your sharp intellect paves the way for academic achievement and success in travel endeavors.

4th House: The Rooted One: Familial harmony and a sense of belonging are yours to cherish. A peaceful home environment, possibly in a dream location, nourishes your soul. Your connection with your mother is a source of strength and solace.

5th House: The Expressive One: Your talents shine brightly, propelling you onto the stage of life. You excel in sports and possess a diverse skillset. Romantic encounters are filled with joy and shared passions, while your adventurous spirit thrives on taking risks.

6th House: The Harmonious One: Health and well-being are your birthright. Your work routine is a source of enjoyment and discovery, leading to financial abundance and promising opportunities through supportive colleagues.

7th House: The Sociable One: Serendipity guides your relationships, leading you to soulmates and fulfilling partnerships. Your magnetic personality attracts admirers and opportunities for social recognition, while legal endeavors find favor under Jupiter's gaze.

8th House: The Resilient One: Inheritance and investments are blessed with fortunate outcomes, shielding you from financial hardship. Deep connections flourish, bringing happiness, and your emotional resilience ensures swift recovery from setbacks.

9th House: The Wanderer One: The world is your oyster! Frequent travel, exposure to diverse cultures, and encounters with inspiring individuals broaden your horizons. Your insatiable curiosity and enthusiasm for life's adventures make every journey a treasure.

10th House: The Achiever One: Career success comes easily, often fueled by the support of family or ancestors. Leadership roles and recognition become synonymous with your professional journey, and your wanderlust fuels your exploration of diverse cultures.

11th House: The Networked One: Dreams manifest effortlessly, surrounded by loyal and intelligent friends. Your social circle is a tapestry of diverse backgrounds and languages, and influential connections propel you forward.

12th House: The Intuitive One: Even adversity holds unexpected blessings, deepening your spiritual connection and highlighting your moral compass. A contemplative nature and a keen awareness of life's subtleties guide your intuitive decisions. You travel to destinations chosen by your soul, seeking profound connections.

Remember, this is just a glimpse into Jupiter's influence. Delving deeper into your individual birth chart will reveal the unique ways this benevolent giant shapes your life's journey.

Follow our Facebook page Mage Magic Touch for personal consultations https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61565561190268

[khaire-traveler]

There is a greatness in the names of deities that, when uttered from my lips, fills me with a momentary sense of awe. A quiet and unspoken power that lies within them.

·° ★ *·

Hestia. A humble energy that is both the First and Last of all the deathless Olympians. A welcome comfort in times of trial that brings with her the love of a sheltering home. A soothing warmth that can be found without the presence of a kindled fire, for her arms are open to all and to all she provides an internal flame.

Zeus. An unmatched power that shakes the skies and brings the most indomitable beasts to their knees. A hardy will that bends the sturdy hands of the fates and dishes out blessings and curses in equal measure. A mighty presence that cannot be overshadowed nor overcome by any other, though it is a brief encounter when the name is merely spoken.

Hera. An elegant strength that is carried with the grace of a lioness, royal in nature with a silent yet undeniable authority. A razor-sharp gaze that can cut through the hardiest of stone and pierce the heart of any person who dares to question her rule. A confident presence that knows when to show compassion and when to assert one's power, certain of her worth and limits.

Poseidon. An earthshaking presence that commands the respect of those brave enough to traverse the crashing waves. A nurturing caretaker who oversees the health and wellness of every underwater denizen. A flowing energy that rolls in and out, rising and falling, ever-changing as the tides of life itself.

Demeter. An ever-caring mother of the very land we tread upon, the soil that squeezes between our toes. An unyielding mountain of power that provides for every manner of creature that roams the earth. An ever-changing force with the variability of the very seasons themselves that plants the seed of transformation within every person she encounters, simply by her nature.

Haides. The gentle yet sturdy ruler - the king who rules us all, in the end. The certainty of an ending paired with the uncertainty of the details. The warmth of burying your feet beneath the earth and watching plants grow over them. The curiosity of change in all its forms, and the subtle comfort that comes with its acceptance.

[rileyslibrary]

Reader has a new haircut and HATES it. Can we get a little comfort from Ghost?

———————————————————————

Tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks as you look into the bathroom mirror. You run your hand through your hair, trying to fix the mess, then tuck a strand behind your ear.

“Why did you do this?” You murmur to yourself, “Why?”

You were feeling adventurous; that’s why. You wanted to “shake things up a little bit,” as you explained to your hairstylist. You showed him a picture for reference, ignoring his warning that the person in the photo was wearing a wig. So he did as he was told: he cut and styled your hair, just like that picture, and it looked beautiful. However, everything vanished as soon as you showered this morning.

You take a closer look and exhale through pursed lips. As you try to tame the strands in front of your face, a a biblical tale comes to mind. The story of Samson, a man who derived his mighty strength from his hair, and Delilah, who ordered someone to cut it while he was sleeping, stripping him of his power. You were both Samson and Delilah in your own tragic way.

You close your eyes and prepare to face the world outside the bathroom: your teammates, your superiors, him.

With your head lowered, you walk towards your office, barely acknowledging those around you. Usually, you would smile and greet people passing by, but today is different. Today, you avoid eye contact, try to take as little space as as possible so you go undetected, and when someone acknowledges your presence, you mutter a barely audible “good morning.” The only time you lift your head is when you have to salute a superior, and even then, you can’t wait to be dismissed so you can go back to counting the tiles on the corridor’s floor again.

You open the door to your office and find Ghost sitting at the top of his desk, cleaning his gun. He turns his head towards the door, greets you, and then shifts his attention back to his rifle. He stays still for a moment and turns to look at you again.

“Did you—”

“Yes.”

“Nice hairc—”

“Fuck off, Ghost.”

He furrows his eyebrows and cocks his head. His gaze follows you as you walk behind your desk, sit in your chair, and open your laptop. You feel his eyes piercing through you, and you bring your hand to your forehead, attempting to cover your face while you type in your password with the other hand.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“Nothing,” you reply with a sigh, “it’s nothing; I’m sorry.”

He hops off his desk and slowly walks to yours. He stands beside you, towering above you, invading your private space.

“Ghost, please go back to your desk,” you whisper.

But he doesn’t listen. He gently pushes the papers on your desk aside and sits down.

“Hey.” He calls out, tapping the desk twice with his finger. You refuse to look at him and peek at his thighs instead.

“Is this how we’re going to be today?” He asks in a soft voice.

“Leave me alone, Simon.”

He reaches out and tickles your neck with his index finger. You shrug your shoulders and grasp his hand to stop him, but he seizes the opportunity, pinches your chin with his free hand, and redirects your face towards his.

“Look at me,” he orders.

You slowly lift your gaze to meet his. He looks at you with eyes full of understanding and compassion. He slowly tilts his head and rubs your chin with his thumb.

“This office isn’t big enough for two grumpy fuckers,” he jokes, “I need you to balance me out.”

He brings his hand to the side of your face, and you press your cheek against his palm.

“I’m human,” you reply, “I get grumpy as well.”

“Of course you do,” he reassures you. “Now, mind telling me what’s going on inside that head of yours?”

“Wanna take a wild guess, Lt.?” you ask and give him a side-eye.

“Is it something that has to do with the top of your head rather than the inside?” He ponders.

“Of course, it does, you asshole!” You cry and slap his hand away. “You, too, noticed how bad it looks!”

“I never said it looked bad!” He clarifies and throws his hands up. “You came in here with a new haircut and a frown; you don’t need a degree in applied mathematics to put one and one together!”

“It doesn’t matter what you think,” you reply, crossing your arms. “What matters is that I can’t stand my reflection in the mirror.”

He huffs and removes his mask, revealing his scarred face and messy hair. Though you have seen him many times without it before, it always surprises you when he grants you access behind his facade.

“Wanna talk about bad hair?” he says, pointing to the top of his head. “I have a permanent cow lick because of this mask, for fuck’s sake.”

You chuckle. “Well, it’s your choice to wear it, Lt.”

“And it was your choice to cut yours.”

“And I deeply regret it,” you whisper, lowering your head to your lap.

He shrugs. “It’s good to have regrets, grumpy; It means you’re learning, so you can make better decisions later.”

“Yes, but what about now, Ghost? How am I going to walk around like this?” You ask and tousle your hair.

He smiles and motions for you to stand up. As you comply, he grabs your wrist and pulls you onto his lap. He wraps one arm behind your waist, the other resting on your thighs.

“I have plenty of those if you want one.” He jokes and gestures towards his mask.

“I don’t want your kitschy mask, Lt.” You chuckle and slap his chest. “I want my hair back.”

“They’ll grow back,” he comforts you, “but in the meantime, we just have to play with the cards we’ve been dealt with, yeah?”

You rest your head on his shoulder and bury your face in his neck, inhaling his scent.

“I guess so,” you whisper.

“You’ll get used to it, love,” he murmurs, rubbing your back. “All changes take some time to get used to.”

“That or I might decide to shave them completely.” You joke.

He laughs and kisses your forehead.

“Do whatever you want to your hair—cut it, dye it, shave it—I don’t fucking care,” he says as he strokes the back of your head. “But this?” He points his index finger to your heart, “Never change this.”

———————————————————————

[comicaurora]

How would you as the writer say each of the main six characters fits into which major characteristics of the five man band?

I'd say they don't, but it is fun to lay out the arguments for each of them filling every role.

Kendal:

The Leader; he's the one who got everyone together and he carries the most authority, literally speaking for a deity and doing most of the real negotiations with the powerful forces they deal with.

The Lancer; he's a foil to nearly everybody else in the group, and despite his quiet and gentle tone, has the worst track record of going off by himself and getting into trouble.

The Big Guy; he's got the most metaphysical oomph with the widest applications, and he hits the hardest out of anyone when he decides to start hitting. Gets taken out of commission early to avoid this outcome.

The Smart Guy; with the accumulated knowledge of centuries' worth of lifetimes and the remembered experience of a god, he has access to a wellspring of knowledge with an ease that nobody else can match.

The Heart; he's the one who keeps drawing people into the group, and he cares so, so deeply about their well-being.

Alinua:

The Leader; when the others argue or fret, she's the one who actually makes decisions.

The Lancer; she's learned a lot of hard lessons and sees Kendal making mistakes she's already learned from, and that tension brings them into conflict even though they care deeply about each other.

The Big Guy; direct conduit to a force beyond any god, when something really big needs breaking it's up to her and nobody else.

The Smart Guy; literally cannot stop overthinking, has an intuitive understanding of something deeply arcane to everyone else.

The Heart; motivated by deep compassion at the core of her being, even when it's tactically unwise or she thinks it'll make her explode.

Erin:

The Leader; he is absolutely certain that he is the leader of the group.

The Lancer; proud and self-confident, immediately sure that he knows what's going on better than anyone else, he's a foil to both Kendal and Alinua who are very aware of their limits. This also means Erin gets himself into trouble so, so often, and is continually surprised when the others bail him out.

The Big Guy: The most diverse range of magical firepower plus a superpowered evil side for spice. Erin is a mighty glacier and a glass cannon at the same time.

The Smart Guy; he is absolutely certain he is the smart guy of the group. The most book-smart, certainly, and fundamentally driven by a deep and profound curiosity to understand the world.

The Heart; he'd never say or believe as much, but his greatest frustration with himself is that he wants to be coldly logical and brilliant and instead he's driven by a pesky moral compass that demands he sacrifice his goals and convenience for the people he loves.

Falst:

The Leader; he'd never believe so, but he's very good at taking charge in a crisis, and the decisions he makes generally work out well for everyone. He's also very good at thinking tactically in terms of everyone's abilities and how they factor into the group. Also, probably the most explicitly loyal member of the group.

The Lancer; almost the platonic ideal of Lancer Energy. Angry and snarky and happy to second-guess everyone around him.

The Big Guy; in a Wolverine sort of way, it's less how hard he hits and more how hard he can get hit before he goes down for good. This is the only role he thinks he's good for.

The Smart Guy; aside from a lot of street smarts, he's a deeply curious and puzzle-solving type, and Erin has been deeply impressed with him since he robbed him for the purposes of homebrewing a backyard enchantment. It's all tactical.

The Heart; deeply, painfully loyal to his friends due to a raw, open wound of loneliness. Will hold the group together if he has to dig in his claws to do it.

Dainix:

The Leader; the only person in the group who actually has experience leading a troupe of fighters and knows how to look out for a group as a whole rather than a handful of loners.

The Lancer; the role he thinks the fills, in the "second in command good at taking orders" sort of way.

The Big Guy; has a literal hulk mode

The Smart Guy; the "has way too many weapons and knows how to use all of them" variety. His expertise is in taking down things much bigger and scarier than he is, and you can't do that without being tactical.

The Heart; deeply empathic and extremely in tune with how the people around him are feeling, and the only member of the group with both the emotional intelligence and the sharpness to cut through various teammate's emotional defenses and actually get them to open up. Not too polite to leave other people's issues alone.

Tess:

The Leader; no way in hell. The only role she categorically denies. Tess's beating heart is wanderlust and that doesn't mesh with a group of any kind.

The Lancer; yes please. She'll do her own thing first and foremost, and when it intersects with other people, she'll help out as she sees best.

The Big Guy; a literal lightning bruiser who resolves every problem by finding a way to punch it.

The Smart Guy; a subtler instance because she's fairly inattentive to anything outside her very narrow range of focus, but when it comes to her areas of expertise, she puts things together faster than anyone else. The first to realize what was going on with Tynan, the first to understand Dainix, the first to track down Erin.

The Heart; not particularly observant, but when she's confronted with someone she recognizes to be in deep distress, she'll open her heart and "home" to them without hesitation. Also, makes friends ridiculously easily.