#raising of the shield hero spoilers

[moontheoretist]

I want mlm RPG game isekai, please 😫

I once again tried to look for isekai with queer protagonist that is not written as BL (don’t take me wrong, I like BL, but what I am looking for is not BL isekai, but rather isekai that has queer male protagonist, because if you google “BL isekai” the results you get are mostly “porn without plot”, while I’m looking for a lot of plot instead - I don’t care how many sex scenes is there as long as there is plot that isn’t short and is intriguing so I can enjoy both the story and the romance that is going on, but sadly “BL isekai” is mostly not that) and like usual I found nothing, because apparently nobody came up with the idea that having a gay protagonist transported into isekai world in which he is surrounded by beautiful women, but has literally 0 interest in any of them and falls in love with that one guy he meets, is a great setting for a comedy. [EDIT: 14.10.2023 Why nobody told me about Kyo Kara Maoh? This is literally a mlm isekai that I looked for!]

Anyway, failing in finding male x male themed isekai that has romance as part of the story instead of the focus of the story, once again made me realize how much more interesting Raising of the Shield Hero would be if Naofumi and L’Arc were the endgame ship. Typical isekai RPG story with side romance that also falls into the drama territory due to the fact that L’Arc and Naofumi are technically enemies due to the fact that their worlds are currently fighting for survival with each other. Isn’t it thrilling when your love has obstacles similar to Romeo and Juliet story? That your love is forbidden or impossible, but you still end up having it in the end, because we are positive and don't want them all to die for the sake of their love, because hell they have to survive to save the world. Also harem just simply doesn’t fit this story.

Anyway, there is also an isekai manga that I was reading Ansatsusha de Aru Ore no Status ga Yuusha yori mo Akiraka ni Tsuyoi nodaga (My Status as an Assassin Obviously Exceeds the Hero's), and tbh this manga would also greatly benefit from mlm romance, because as far as I noticed the protagonist is treated very well by the Hero in this story, to the point that I got some fruity vibes from the Hero in regard to his Assassin classmate (the MC). Due to the setting in which the MC discovers that the Kingdom that summoned them is not to be trusted and gets driven out by the Royals, the love story between Hero and the Assassin would really complete the picture. Hell, Akira could date both the Hero and Amelia (elven girl he meets) as far as I am concerned. Polyamorous bisexual isekai, let’s go!

(I dunno how you, but this is either very good friendship or gayness).

[izvmimi]

ember - izuku x reader

cw: spoilers to the end of the manga. reader with vaguely described quirk. izuku and reader are married. short and sweet. a/n: establishing my own new canon, tyvm.

On an evening out in September, six months after you tie the knot with Izuku Midoriya and three years after Izuku returns to active Pro Hero duty, you find out three crucial things about him.

One, Izuku meant it when he said he loves you possibly more than life itself; two, Izuku might not have lost all of the embers of One for All, after all, and three, Izuku is a fucking idiot.

Your body feels unbelievably rigid as though you were in a car accident, and in a way, you were, and your guts should be strewn all over this sparsely populated street if not for the fact that you’re wrapped up, safe, cocooned in your lover’s protective hold, his back curved over yours, and the truck that should have crushed you both instead is partially crumpled itself at its front end, metal twisting around Izuku’s raised forearm. The two of you are panting heavily, the adrenaline coursing through your veins giving you the sensation of having just run a marathon, and he’s looking at you with frantic eyes, scanning you for safety. That long familiar green spark in the air surges around him like electricity, the glow in his green eyes, fading quickly.

“Are you okay?” he asks, breathlessly, not out of exertion but out of shock.

“I-Izuku, you’re not…”

He still hasn’t realized what has just happened, focusing on the fact that you’re alive and okay and didn’t turn into roadkill right in front of his very eyes. Unwedging his somehow intact forearm from the grille of the truck, he turns his body completely to you, rubbing his hands over your shoulders and down your arms, and helps you rise to your feet. The static feeling emanating from him slips away second by second and your lips wobbles as you’re at a loss for words.

“Are you okay?” he repeats again. He’s patting you over quickly, looking for broken bones, bruised skin, and your mind is still racing, computing what just happened and why you’re still alive.

He shouldn’t have been able to cross that distance so quickly - you were just waving to him from across the street, the road clear when you looked before crossing, and in seconds the vehicle had barreled at full speed out of nowhere; he couldn’t have moved before screaming your name fast enough, maybe years ago when you were both teenagers with impossible superpowers but not now, years later with superhuman gifts dwindled to nothing. 

He couldn’t have, but he did. 

“I-Izuku, the suit… you’re not wearing your suit,” your voice carries shakily, and as you see his eyebrows unscrunch and raise instead in surprise, he turns, and sees the stopped vehicle, the broken glass and distorted metal, a man hurriedly jumping out of the passenger seat and shakily apologizing, and finally his torn jacket sleeve and it occurs to him.

“Oh, fuck, I’m not.”

—

You watch Mei type on her computer, not bothering to try to decipher her thoughts from her facial expressions, knowing full well that she’s never been readable before. Even years after high school you find that this continues to be true, but the blank but friendly and entranced look on her face is somehow pleasant the more you think about it, and you let yourself let out the breath you’ve been holding.

It’s been just a few weeks since the night Izuku’s Quirk - at least some of it - flickered back into life for the first time, and after you’d berated him for using his literal body to shield you from a danger that could have killed you both, you’d taken the time that evening to use your own Quirk to see if something about his body had gone haywire. To both of your surprises, you’d gotten a flicker of something similar to the old him, but unsure and unwilling to get either of your hopes up, you’d decided to consult with Mei and other experts who worked with Quirk pathophysiology and augmentation (a few of which you’d taken courses with yourself years ago), and now you were back in Mei’s laboratory, trying to see if you could get to the bottom of this.

Since then, the following strange things had happened:

You’d dropped a plate and Izuku had dove for it, the wisp of a Blackwhip tendril just brushing it before it ultimately crashed to the ground, the two of you too stunned to speak.

A group of Izuku’s students heckled him as he leaned in to accept your kiss outside UA, and all of you ended up in a purple haze before you knew it.

Izuku’s midday nap on the couch found him face to face with the ceiling when you finally discovered him, and

A sudden unintentional use of Fa Jin made things very interesting in bed.

“I guess my baby’s doing a better job than I thought it would!” Mei grins. You hunch over her screen, while Izuku’s too hooked up to a tangle of wires to get a good view of the screen himself, and she compares Quirk levels from the beginning of the suit’s conception to now, a previously long-standing flat graph with a steadily rising bump. 

“A miracle,” you whisper under your breath.

“I find that personally offensive.” Mei replies, her facial expression lacking the cheek to compare to her statement as she watches Izuku watch you from behind the glass. She presses a button on the intercom; Izuku grins at you while Mei gives him the instructions to try to activate Blackwhip one more time, and you can feel warmed all the way through. 

—

Slowly but surely, over time, the Quirk levels start to recover, and you, Izuku and Mei try your best to keep it under wraps.

Of course, Katsuki finds out with direct questioning, the purple haze event showing up on an anonymous internet forum propelling him to show up at your doorstep and demand personally that Izuku tell him if he got his quirks back or not.

“We’re not sure how permanent this is, Kacchan,” he offers. Katsuki might as well spit on the ground before him in protest but you’re seated in the living room, and even Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight has enough decorum to not make a mess in someone else’s home.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Midoriya!”

“It’s not a lie!” Izuku insists, and he turns his gaze to you for backup which you swiftly provide.

“Listen, we’re not sure yet, and they’ll probably never get back to normal, but he’s doing his best.” Katsuki grimaces, which annoys you further.

“You’ll get your damn rematch, be patient.” you add, rolling your eyes. Katsuki leers, and his partner pats him on the shoulder.

“He’s just excited,” she translates for him, and Katsuki mumbles something about not needing her for translation every time which doesn’t waver her smile one bit.

“Excited to get his ass beat,” you murmur, reaching over to pour her some more tea. Izuku and Katsuki both stare at you, Izuku with nervous concern and Katsuki with irritation, and just like old days, you and Katsuki’s arguing match begins anew. 

—

As the two of you brush your teeth and prepare for bed, you do your nightly routine of checking how strong Izuku's reawakened Quirk is with your hand on his chest, and he presses his free hand over yours.

“You know, my favorite part of this is you’ll finally start to worry less.” He chuckles and squeezes your hand gently.

You let the water run and clear spittle from the sink, and gargle before you answer, your hand still captive by his, then look at him.

“To be honest, I’ll never stop worrying about you, Izuku. Even if you become God.”

But you understand what he means. You’ve had many a nightmare about suit malfunction, only a few of these you’ve shared with him, among other things that have to do with being a Pro Hero in the capacity he insists to be in. This is a small help. 

A small bit of providence.

He expected this answer, lips pulling into a smile as he takes your hand fully and pulls the fingertips to his lips to kiss them. 

“I’m glad that won’t change,” he replies.

Moments later, you’re laid in bed together, and as you both muse on the potentially altering future in quiet, love-flushed cheeks and hands intertwined, he turns to you suddenly.

“There’s one thing I’m still missing,” he says.

Your eyes refocus to him. He’s pensive now, not sad or upset, but thoughtful. You move closer to kiss him on the lips once before nodding for him to continue.

“What are you missing?”

“Danger Sense,” he says.

“But everything else is back,” you reply. He nods, letting his arm drape around your waist.

“Yeah, but I think I liked that one the most.”

You snort lightly. “Not being able to lift a train, or fly, but 'Super Anxiety' was your favorite?”

You’re making light of the issue to keep the mood from getting too heavy, but he frowns, and you frown back, apologetically. 

“Well, ‘Super Anxiety’ made it so that I knew when bad things were about to happen, and often these bad things could involve you.”

He has the tiniest scrunch to his eyebrows, one that in another situation would have compelled you to rub out with your fingertips, but now is not the time to be playful.

You twist your mouth to the side and a few more moments pass between you, before you add:

“I don’t think you need it, though.”

He raises an eyebrow, and you press a kiss to his forehead.

“All this came back because you wanted to protect me,” you remind him. “You moved without thinking, for me, as always, like you knew I needed you. That's better than Danger Sense by far.”

His face softens as he cups yours in his hands. You're thankful that you've reached him.

“Always for you,” he says.

Even if this miracle is transient and despite your best efforts, his quirk levels fall back to normal instead of steadily growing, the love he has for you, and the love you have for him, will never, ever burn out.

[buttercupshands]

This is basically the worst (not in terms of quality, it's actually great in this aspect) chapter in MHA (or even MVA) to date

Twice dying at least was followed by "fuck off Hawks I had the best life the the LoV"

And... this? How the hell will this even be fixed??????

Well, this chapter turned out to be everything I was worried about (AFO reveals he gave Tomura his quirk, manipulated his whole life, and he never had any agency as a villain/person ever) and then made it worse (Tomura, the only charcater with the want, plan, & convivtion to make a better world, just mentally disintegrated).

Now our best villain has been booted from the stage, ON HIS BIRTHDAY NO LESS, to be replaced by MHA's most boring and lame. (Like what is he still doing here? He can't get Yoichi, he can't beat all the heroes...is it just spite?)

I...do not know what to do with these feelings.

[biblioflyer]

Rogue v Cap: Outside vs Inside Power

Its rare for any incarnation of the X-Men to not have incredibly smart things to say about bigotry, authority, organizing, and power, but X-Men '97 is killing it.

However, I think people who are too quick to get behind Rogue or are offended on Captain America's behalf are missing out on just how sophisticated '97's understanding of power and authority is.

Lets get this out of the way: I take a "yes, and" stance on power and social organizing.

I think its incredibly difficult to holistically understand movements and declare this "helped" the cause and that "hurt" the cause. It all depends on how you calibrate your rubric for success and how you understand how influential a person, group, or action really was.

What I see in the X-Men in all incarnations are some of the most iconic and thorniest debates about inside or institutional power vs outside, autonomous organizing and power, about assimilation or separatism.

Reasonable people recognize these are highly contingent arguments without clear, unambiguous or ethically pure answers.

Which is a rich meal for an ethics nerd like myself and I am having the most amazing time watching and thinking about X-Men '97 and the issues it raises.

So lets get into this!

Spoilers for X-Men '97 episode 7 "Bright Eyes"

Rogue's encounter with Captain America on the hunt for Bolivar Trask, inventor of the Sentinels, is probably the most commented on and debated scene on my social media feeds (as of this writing.)

Those who take Rogue's side in the exchange of words and that epic Frisbee hurl make very familiar and painful arguments. The system Captain America represents and Captain America himself have consistently let mutants down. Where were the Avengers when Genosha burned?

Which is a damn good question considering there are multiple Avengers and Avengers adjacent characters who are confirmed as existing in Earth 92131 who could conceivably have been able to learn about the attack in near real time and react in real time. Thor is very likely to have been tipped off by the likes of Heimdal or other mystical means and can cross continental distances in moments. Doctor Strange likewise could portal over the moment he found out about it, along with anyone else he could rustle up.

SHIELD and essentially any other entity with orbital surveillance would likely have learned about the attack the moment their satellites overflew Genosha. Given the world's jitters over Genosha, I'm having a hard time believing Genosha wasn't being monitored around the clock. However, knowledge doesn't translate into the ability to respond faster than a Quinjet can reach the island.

Now there's an unsatisfying Watsonian explanation here in the form that this is a common trope: all of the world's heroes are somehow busy or ignorant when really big stuff is going down. The Doylist lens would remind us that this is endemic to superhero stories and kind of required for suspense, except when its time to do the big team up story.

So if we want to be generous to Earth's Mightiest Heroes, "they didn't know or were busy or couldn't reach Genosha in time" is an explanation we can fall back on. Thor and Doctor Strange do have to sleep sometime and its not as if they don't have other responsibilities that take them off world or off this plane of existence. Most of the other superheroes known to exist in Earth-92131 could have an out in that they may not have had the means to become aware of the attack in real time or the means to reach Genosha before it was already over.

However, that's awful nitpicky. Rogue can be being unfair about the lack of an immediate response to Genosha while still having a valid point to make on a broader scale. Homo Sapiens Sapiens civilization more broadly would almost certainly, from Rogue's point of view, been holding the idiot ball or maliciously ignorant to miss out on a new army of Sentinels under construction including a big freaking Sentinel kaiju.

Of course we'd later find out that some handwavey deus ex may have also ensured that the world's electronic eyes were shut without any elaborate conspiracy, but Rogue doesn't know this yet when she's unloading on Cap. For all she knows, this is yet another in a long list of times where the "good" Homo Sapiens Sapiens and their champions have been unwilling or conveniently unable to intervene in personal scale tragedies like lynchings by the Friends of Humanity or population scale atrocities like permitting Genosha's former regime to run forced labor camps.

Baked into the setting assumptions of X-Men is a significant amount of systemic abuse that gets overlooked by non-mutant superheroes or that said superheroes are not powerful enough or imaginative enough to dismantle. This ends up necessitating a never ending set of excuses for how Earth's Mightiest Heroes keep winding up on the wrong side of justice yet can still claim the mantle of hero.

I'm not going to repeat ad nauseam familiar arguments about the suspension of disbelief problems created by widespread anti-mutant bigotry being a part of the same setting as a vast roster of enhanced individuals and literal gods that the general public lionizes without much hesitation. The savvy reader already knows these forwards and backwards, so I'm only going to continue to address them to the extent they're relevant here and refrain from further meta-commentary about this aspect of X-Men '97's world building.

Now to be fair, Captain America actually does give us an answer of sorts as to at least what he's up to and why he's not more ambitious in his pursuit of justice. He does intend to act, but not, from his perspective, impulsively. Captain America needs to obtain clearance to act across international boundaries. Captain America is in many ways governed by a sclerotic and often unjust system.

But wait! Captain America is a supersoldier, you say. Who gets to tell him "No, you don't get to pursue justice according to your conscience?" Cap should just tell his handlers to get stuffed and go settle accounts.

Notice my repetition of Steve's nom de spandex? Captain America is not a friendly neighborhood star spangled vigilante. Its unclear exactly who he is working for in this universe, but its heavily implied to be if not the United States, then perhaps SHIELD, and either way there are geopolitical considerations to Captain America showing up without phoning ahead and asking nicely if he can wander around without a minder, punching and exploding people and things on his own discretion. A whole lot of countries are justifiably sensitive about this sort of thing.

The point is that Steve Rogers is accountable to some sort of regulatory authority that is clearly meant to ensure that Captain America's activities are understood clearly and that he doesn't meet with an unfriendly reception by governmental actors that Steve would rather not be shooting at him and that Steve would prefer not to have to punch his way through on his way to his mission.

This authority likely has an additional role of at least performing for the masses and other governments that Captain America is being held to strict rules of engagement and that the bad guys he is punching are definitely villains plotting acts of violence not ideological enemies of the status quo. Because again, wanton violence for motives that are not clearly explained or are suspected of being fraudulent is a touchy subject.

Now of course, Steve Rogers could always go off the reservation. Its happened plenty of times in other continuities/universes. After all, the US government can't repo the super soldier serum.

What they can take away though is a lot of what allows Steve to be more than just a really strong guy. You know who is also a really strong guy? Bruce Banner. Also Luke Cage.

What do Bruce and Luke not have when they aren't playing on a team with some sort of direct or indirect government approval?

Extensive intelligence networks to direct them to international problems that need punching.

Supersonic jets to get them to places where there are villains who need to get decked.

People with relevant authorities who can work the phones and obtain permissions for a superhuman to engage in activities that may require a large scale disaster response operation and sending out surveyors afterwards to redraw topographical maps.

Why obtain those permissions? Because nations have armies and sometimes their own superhero teams they will send out if they get wind of a rogue superhuman showing up and doing violence without phoning ahead and clarifying their motives.

Special forces and super teams are a real inconvenience when there's wrongs to be righted on the other side of them.

So that's the bargain.

As Captain America, Steve Rogers gets an invisible army of intelligence operatives, pilots, Quinjet mechanics, and diplomats that all work together to ensure that Steve can do the maximum good when his conscience and the interests of his benefactors are aligned.

When he goes off reservation, he's just a really strong guy. Like Bruce Banner or Luke Cage. Not just a really strong guy, but probably a person of interest because authorities tend not to like their monopoly on violence being undermined by tough guys who are only accountable to the vibes of their conscience but can wreck New York's skyline if they're having a particularly bad day.

Which brings us back to Rogue and the X-Men.

The X-Men represent outside power.

Its heavily implied through any number of dialogues between the X-Men and the US President and the UN, the X-Men have some sort of understanding with legal authorities. However, its also implied that while this understanding exists, its begrudging. The X-Men have a wider latitude to act autonomously than the Avengers because they're specialists at what they do: they're intimately acquainted with some of the most dangerous, "Omega" level mutants who can be surly and embittered towards Homo Sapiens Sapiens.

Yet that latitude is both a gift and a curse.

The gift is the X-Men are essentially free to follow their consciences. Because the legal authorities have given the X-Men nothing much more than a blind eye towards their activities, the only thing the authorities can take away from the X-Men is that blind eye. The X-Men are a largely self sufficient operation, so there's no obvious card to play that is analogous to revoking Steve Rogers' legal identity as Captain America. The X-Men supply their own Blackbirds, no matter how many of them they lose, and largely generate their own sources and intelligence.

The X-Men also own their own mistakes, which is a mixed blessing. When Rogue goes on a grief fueled rampage, she's not liable to start World War 3. While she's technically an American citizen, its understood that she acts as her own agent, with no direct connections to the US government that could be interpreted as Rogue acting out the will of the US government.

Rather than retaliate, any foreign governments alarmed by Rogue's behavior are not likely to blame the US directly and are likely to lodge a complaint through official channels in the hopes that the US government will coax the X-Men into doing something about her or that Uncle Sam will try to take matters into its own hands. In other words, its understood that Rogue is America's problem but not its fault, at least not intentionally. Which is good enough to keep nuclear missiles from waving at one another as they pass one another in Earth orbit.

And that's essentially the contours of what the X-Men's outside power looks like.

The X-Men have incredible resources at their disposal by virtue of Xavier's seed money, the genius of Hank McCoy and others, and the allies they've cultivated like the Shi'ar, but everything they've built up they've had to bootstrap. They're free to follow their consciences but they're also at risk of running off the cliff and getting disavowed if they chase their consciences too far, too fast, too hard for the liking of the world's nations.

The Avengers, especially Steve Rogers, subordinate their consciences to higher authorities to a greater degree, but the trade is that when they do act, they can act with the knowledge that they're not going to have to deal with blue on blue conflict from confused and scared locals and with largely infinite resources. There is almost assuredly a limited supply of Blackbirds. There is a limited supply of Blackbirds right? The number of Quinjets available to the Avengers is only limited by the budget afforded to them by SHIELD or Tony Stark.

Speaking of Tony Stark, depending on which universe and what time period we're talking about, he is not necessarily a backup plan for an Avengers team that finds its consciences misaligned with the interests of SHIELD. Not just because he might not feel like being their sugar daddy, but also because Tony Stark is ultimately a businessman. Ironman may be challenging for the world's authorities to reign in if he's in a bad mood, but Tony Stark has financial assets that can be frozen and capital assets that can be seized.

Let's not forget that when Steve Rogers decided he was done asking for permission to do what he felt was right in the MCU, he was only able to continue superheroing at the same level he had previously because a secretive nation with a friendly monarch was willing to provide him with a jet and supplies so long as they approved of his goals and methods.

Thus the X-Men enjoy greater freedom of conscience but its much more precarious than Captain America's compromised freedom.

This is not a value judgment, just an observation.

And if I made the case for Captain America playing by the rules a little too well, then its probably because Earth 92131 Steve Rogers doesn't seem to have been gaslit into being the hatchetman for corrupt ends.

Yet.

One could also imagine that SHIELD or USGOV have also failed to tip Cap off about mutant related this, that, or the other that Steve might have OPINIONS about and feel strongly that some Homo Sapiens Sapiens supremacists are need of punching in a time and place that is super inconvenient for the authorities.

Because sometimes injustice isn't about what authority does, its about what it doesn't do: malign neglect and so forth.

[vmprgrl-2005]

a real hero-hotline miami-jacket x reader

“your pursuits are called outstanding, you’re emotionally complex”

word count-3.6k

warnings-blood, violence, death, strong language (the usual), spoilers for hlm 1, drug use

How long have you been laying in this bed? All of the days blur together, you’ve seen life through a drugged haze for god knows how long now. Your eyes glaze over to a pile of pill bottles and empty needles next to you, whether they were used on you or someone else you don’t know. A bulky man sits in a chair across the room, watching whatever “film” he was about to produce. No one had come near you today, it seemed like most of the men passing through had something bigger to worry about, judging by their raised tones and rushed gestures as they spoke. You’re unsure if you’re going to make it out of here. At this point, most of your time is spent in a dazed state, staring forward, rarely paying attention to anything.

There’s a sudden loud sound, interrupting the tense silence that previously filled the room. You try to listen and decipher what’s happening. The sounds continue, gunshots, then footsteps, then more gunshots. Your body tenses with each reverberation, terrified of whatever is happening in the rest of the building yet still unable to will yourself to move.

The man in the corner finally leaves the room, pushing the door open harshly, mumbling curses under his breath. Three gunshots later he doesn’t come back. You can hear approaching footsteps and your heart begins to slam against your rib cage. Too weak to move to make yourself decent, you lay in whatever thin pieces of lace still cover your body. Trying to run doesn’t even cross your mind.

Then you see him. Looming in the doorway, his stance wide and his shoulders heaving, a large shotgun in his hand. Your body shakes and your breath quickens no matter how much you try to hide your fear. Staring towards the door, you watch him intently, waiting for any sign of movement. Why the fuck hasn’t he killed you yet?

You try to talk to him, voice shaking. “Come on, make it quick.” He walks closer, leaving a bloody trail of the sins of the night behind him. Expecting to feel the cold barrel of a gun against your forehead or hands around your neck or a knife through your chest, some pathetic noise leaves you when instead you feel arms slip underneath you, lifting you up from the grave you’d been laying in for weeks. He’s terribly gentle, cradling your head against his chest as he carries you away like some demented knight in shining armor. The palm of his hand lays partly across your face, most likely trying to shield your eyes from whatever carnage lies beyond the threshold of the door.

With a hard nudge of his shoulder, he opens the door and carries you to what you assume is his car, laying you down in the back seat as if you’re made of glass. Before he closes the door, he takes off his warm jacket, laying it across your mostly bare body. He gets in the driver's seat, throwing his head back and sighing deeply before taking off the plastic mask covering his face. The neon lights from the street shine in through the window, illuminating his face, the sweat across his strong jawline glistening in the pink glow. He lights a cigarette and blows the smoke out the window as he drives away.

You keep your eyes closed for most of the ride, even though you’re still suspicious of the man in the front seat. He smokes the entire time, it’s evident that he’s stressed about something. After passing through streets and streets of neon lights, his car stops outside of a run-down apartment building. Quickly, he steps out of the car and opens the door to the backseat. For a brief moment he just looks at you, as if he’s wondering whether or not you can walk by yourself. Taking in the bruises covering most of your body, he lifts you into his arms once again, carrying you to his apartment effortlessly.

He lays you across his couch, placing a pillow behind your head. After leaving the room for a moment, he returns with a blanket, which he spreads across you, tucking it into the curves of your body. A small wince leaves you as his hands brush against the dense bruising on your hips. Before walking away, he gazes down at you, standing awkwardly and scratching the back of his head. His mouth opens, allowing a raspy voice to escape. “I’ll be in my room down the hall if you need anything.” You just stare into his eyes, which he takes as a response. The racing of your heart had finally calmed down. You were safe now, part of you was sure he was not going to hurt you.

At some point, you drift off, the softness of the worn couch comforting you. The cozy living room already felt pleasantly familiar compared to where you had been living for the past few weeks. Under heavy eyelids, you gaze around the room. Light from a tv illuminates the walls, and the figure you encountered earlier. He’s sitting in front of the couch by your legs, looking up at the tv every now and then between wrapping bandages around his hands. Shamelessly, you stare. There's something charming about his exhausted stare and stiff broad shoulders. Eventually, he notices you, meeting your eyes. “You ok?” he mutters. You nod in response, still not confident in your ability to speak steadily. “Need anything?” he continues, still looking at you, his expression tired and soft. After a moment, your hand reaches out from under the blanket, towards him. He stares for a few seconds, as if he’s unsure of what to do. Once he realizes what you want, his hand comes up to meet yours, covering your palm with his gently. It looks like he’s broken a few fingers before, and the soft feeling of the bandages are a stark contrast to the rough skin of his fingers. For the first time in seemingly a lifetime, you smile, warmth filling your body from the comfort of knowing that someone is there to protect you. Your fingers intertwine with his, and he squeezes your hand gently. “I’ll be here, you can go to sleep.” he mutters, softer than before. Without a word, you close your eyes again, sleeping soundly as he rubs circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

When you open your eyes again, it’s morning. The room is flooded with soft light which allows you to see your surroundings in more detail. You wonder how long it will take to sleep off the sick haze of the drugs in your system. A note next to a cup of water on the coffee table catches your eye.

I had to go take care of something, I'll be back soon. If you get cold you can take a blanket from my room. There's really nothing but liquor in the fridge, sorry.

Stay safe

You read the note carefully, multiple times, studying the blocky and messy handwriting that covers the paper, noticing that he didn’t sign it with a name. Still feeling exhausted, you close your eyes, falling into a deep sleep again, hoping that he returns to you soon.

The sound of a door opening wakes you. You force your still weak body to sit up. He’s standing in the entryway, keys in his hand and a cigarette in his mouth. Looking over at you, he smiles slightly before coming over to sit with you. You pull your legs up to your chest so he can sit next to you, still keeping yourself covered with the blanket as much as possible. He sits down, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table and coughing out the last bit of smoke before turning towards you. Hesitant to speak, you just look at him, taking in the drops of blood on his shirt and the bruise covering his left cheek. Finally, voice shaking, you say “Are you alright?” He turns away, looking down at his lap, “Yeah, just got into a little bit of a fight.” It sounds as if he’s making up a story as he speaks. Taking the opportunity, you move closer, inspecting the wounds on his face. As if it’s second nature, one of his hands lays across your back, keeping you steady as you kneel next to him. There are countless tiny cuts on his face, as well as bruises, freckles scattered in between them. After a moment, he gently bats your hands away from his face, insisting that he’s fine. You sit down next to him, your side flush against his entirely by accident. The blanket that had been covering you falls off slightly, causing you to remember that you’re not wearing anything besides whatever cheap lingerie hadn’t been ripped off of you. Hiding yourself as best as possible, you stutter out, “Do you have a shirt I could borrow or something?” Wordlessly, he leaves the room, returning a moment later with clothes in his hand. He’s holding a neon pink pair of dolphin shorts and a bright green tank top, probably clothes that a one night stand left behind. Still covering yourself with a blanket, you walk to the bathroom to change. The outfit fits you perfectly, and you’re happy to be fully clothed for the first time in a while. Taking in the clothes in the mirror your heart begins to race. The shorts cover only a sliver of your thighs and the shirt leaves part of your stomach exposed. You’re unsure of how you’re going to face him while wearing this. After building up enough courage, you exit the bathroom. His eyes grow wide when he sees you and he bites his lip before turning away. It’s obvious that he’s checking you out, but you choose not to notice.

A few days later, he leaves without disclosing where he’s going again. Minutes feel like hours while he’s gone. Trying to pass the time, you pace around, smoke a few of his cigarettes, check your hair in the mirror, anything to keep your mind busy. After a while you resort to laying on the couch, waiting for him to come back.

You’re immediately alarmed when you hear someone struggling with the door. Rushing through the apartment, you look through the peephole. There he stands, blood pouring down him, propped up against the doorway by his elbow. You open the door and he stumbles into your arms, his chest producing a fierce rattle as he coughs blood onto you. You try your best to hold him up, moving him to the couch. Looking at him in the light gives you a better idea of how injured he actually is. There’s a steady stream of blood coming from his nose and a large gash above his right eye. You can’t tell if the rattling in his chest is from how much he smokes or the blood he’s coughing up. You run into the bathroom, rifling through every cabinet to find bandages or anything that could stop the bleeding. “Who the fuck doesn’t keep a first aid kit in their house?” you mutter during your search. Finally, you come across a few bandages and a near empty bottle of antiseptic. You sit next to him on the couch and try to decide where you should start. Before you can do anything, though, he slides you onto his lap. Flustered, you begin wiping blood off of his face. His hand rests on your back and grips at your shirt whenever your fingers graze over the wounds on his face, to which you apologize profusely. After covering the cuts with bandages, you slide off of his lap and stand, taking in the blood in his hair and covering his clothes. You sit down again, tugging at his shirt to encourage him to take off his blood soaked clothes. His eyes open, glancing over at you slyly, “Ask nicely,” he mutters between heavy breaths. You face flushes and you bat at his arm gently “No dumbass, you’re getting blood everywhere” you say. With a groan, he lifts himself off of the couch. You put one of his arms over your shoulder and help him into the bathroom. Weakly, he shrugs his thick jacket off, which you take from him and begin rinsing the blood off of it in the sink. He then reaches to take off his shirt, causing you to turn away and blush. You can hear him chuckle from across the bathroom, but you decide not to say anything. When you hear the shower running, you leave the room, leaving the door open just in case. You go to his room and look at the small pile of clothes you’ve amassed but you were uninterested in wearing any of them. Instead, you grab one of his shirts, admiring the way the soft fabric ends halfway down your thighs.

Again, you walk back to the couch, settling against one of the soft pillows. A wave of emotion hits you when you look at your bruised bare legs. You remember what happened to you, why you’re here, that this isn’t some fucked up dream or a scene from a movie. Glimmering tears fall from your eyes and your mouth hangs open slightly as your breathing slows. You stay sitting in a familiar dazed state as your new reality sets in. Somehow, he must have heard you crying, judging by his slow and careful steps into the living room. You frantically wipe tears off of your face with the back of your hands in an attempt to regain your composure. “Are you okay?” he hesitates, sitting down with his arm on the couch behind you. Tears begin falling from your eyes again when you look up at him. His arm falls across your shoulders and you move closer to him, taking in his warmth. “Do you know what happened to me?” you ask him. He shifts uncomfortably, shaking his head. His jaw clenches, it seems he wishes he could give you an answer. “Why did you save me?” you ask. Before he can respond, you begin sobbing again. He pulls you close to him, encircling you in his strong arms. Tears continue to fall from your eyes which you try to hide, covering your face with your hands. Gently, he grabs one of your hands, looking at the barely healed lacerations around your wrist. Looking up at you, he leaves the room, returning with a roll of bandages. His rough hands work gently, wrapping the bandages around your wrists until all of the cuts are covered before running his fingers over them softly. His eyes meet yours, his gaze softer than you’ve ever seen, “Are they too tight?” You shake your head, flustered by his unfamiliar gentleness.

When he stands up to leave, you grab his hand. His expression changes, as if he’s waiting for you to say something. “I don’t want to sleep alone,” you mumble. Instead of offering to sit next to the couch while you sleep, he lifts you up, carrying you to his room. He lays you down on his bed, one of the two twin beds in the room. It seems he can tell you think it’s odd and he mutters “Sorry…my girlfriend used to live here.” You look at him, surprised. “Ex-girlfriend,” he hurries to say. After putting a blanket over you, he effortlessly pushes the second bed as close as possible to the one you’re laying on. He sits down on the other bed, a small distance from you. You stare up at him, doe-eyed, hoping that he’ll notice you want him to move closer. Reaching over to the night stand beside him, he takes a pack of cigarettes and lights one before turning towards you. “What’s that look for?” he says, smiling, smoke flowing out of his nose. Just as you did the first night you slept in his apartment, you reach your hand out from under the blanket towards him. He takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together slowly. His eyes gaze at you adoringly, it’s hard to believe that he killed a building full of people a few days ago. Inhaling a few more times, he puts his cigarette out before laying down next to you. Nervousness fills you from how close he is. Despite the rapid beating of your heart, you move closer to him, hoping he doesn’t notice your nervousness. Hands grab your hips underneath your shirt. His boldness causes your heart to flutter even more. “Is this mine?” he asks hesitantly, looking at the shirt you’re wearing. You nod, staring up at him, your eyes focusing on the blush covering his face. “…Cute,” he mutters, rubbing the tips of his fingers against the fabric covering your side. Quietly, you giggle, it’s obvious to you that he’s flustered. Looking back at you, feigning annoyance, he says “Go to sleep.” You move closer to him, laying against his chest, the faint sound of his quick heartbeat echoing in your head. The now comforting smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne radiates off of him, lulling you to sleep.

A few days later you lay propped up against a wall of the small bathroom in his apartment, slumping from the slick blood covering your back. You dragged yourself down the hallway to try and bandage your wounds, but you became dizzy before you could, not knowing that nothing would stop the bleeding. Every part of you hopes that you’ll get to see him one last time, even if it’s a selfish desire.

“Baby?” you hear his voice call from the front door. The trail of blood across the hallway leads him to you. “…No” you hear him breathe out as he enters the room. He falls to his knees next to you when he sees the blood, pressing his hand against your stomach firmly yet tenderly. As always, his mind goes to what's most important to him, protecting you. Warm blood gushes from the holes in your stomach, flowing out from between his fingers no matter how much pressure he puts on the wound. Death was like an old friend to him now. The metallic scent of your blood and the far-away look in your eyes told him all he needed to know. His glistening eyes meet yours, seeing the light start to fade from them. The hand that was just cradled against you comes up to meet your cheek, leaving a trail of blood in its path. “Look at me, you’re okay” he breathes out, not believing his own words yet still trying to convince you. Letting out a weak sob as your chest becomes heavy, a small amount of blood runs out of your mouth. Quickly, his hand comes up to wipe the blood away, hoping you don’t notice. He knows that he has to say goodbye but no words can tell you how much you mean to him. His main concern, though, was not letting you know how much danger you were in.

Knowing this is probably the end, he lifts you up into his lap. Like the first night you met, he holds your head gently, propping it up against his shoulder. Your hand moves to lay across your injuries in an attempt to cease the blinding pain consuming you. Noticing this, he pulls you closer, whispering “I know, baby, I know.”

Using all of the strength you can muster, you lean in close to his face. His eyes flutter closed, eyelashes brushing against your cheeks as his lips slowly meet yours. Had you kissed him before this? It was impossible for you to remember now. When he pulls away, you notice your blood in the cracks of his lips. “I love you” his voice comes out as a crack, hopelessness seeping out through his words. As much as you want to melt into his arms and tell him how much you love him, the pain you’re in overrides all of your other feelings. “…love you” you whisper in response using the last remnant of air in your lungs. His hold on you tightens as he watches you take your last breaths, deeps, rattley gasps that become louder as more blood floods your lungs. By now he would’ve expected to be used to the sound, but something about this was different. The scared look in your eyes made his stomach turn. He knows that there's nothing he can do to help you, but he tries anyway. Comforting you until the end, he holds you close and caresses your face, feeling your heartbeat slow against his arms. He stares down at your now unmoving chest. He couldn’t save you this time.

Blood covers his hands, more than ever before. A blur of dizzying thoughts race through his head, knowing that these are his last moments of freedom. How long has it been since he last slept? Everything he did since your death had been fueled by love-driven vengeance. The feeling of your cold, limp body in his arms was so vivid you would think he's still holding you. The sunset looked beautiful tonight, an endless heaven of pink and orange stretched across the sky all the way to the horizon. He always loved watching the sunset with you. This was it, he knew it. Soon red and blue lights would pull up outside, demanding he drop whatever weapon he’s holding and come outside with his hands up, he knew the drill by now. They’ll sentence him to whatever, he doesn't care, all he has to live for is this moment, remembering you in the warm summer breeze on the balcony of this gaudy mansion whose occupants are now dead. He slowly lit a cigarette, one of the last few in the pack he kept in his pocket.

[themonkeycabal]

Highlights from the WoT finale off the top of my head:

SPOILERS obviously.

* Lanfear yeeting Lan and Moiraine out the waygate. ‘Walk, bitches’. L O L Forever

* Rand cutting to the chase with the whole Turak scene. I kind of don’t think he entirely meant to do that, but I enjoyed it anyway.

* Uno being a Hero of the Horn. I got misty, okay? I don’t think the timing’s right for him to be Gaidal Cain, but I’m not dug in over it or anything.

* I see you Birgitte. Vaguely because they haven’t properly cast you yet, but I SEE YOU!

* Mat being a clever boy with the dagger.

* Mat saying he remembered once he blew the Horn. Very good. That got me a little misty, too. That was a nice moment to give to Mat. He goes through quite a lot and he can be a Hero of the Horn as a little treat.

* And on that subject: “Dovie’andi se tovya sagain!” (I might’ve punched the air a bit)

* Elayne reminding Nynaeve that, whatever else, she’s still a Wisdom. Elayne’s so great, I’m so pleased with the casting.

* Egwene’s whole thing on the tower with Renna. Get fucked, Renna.

* Egwene standing between Rand (and Mat) and Ishamael.

* Perrin showing up with the shield to stand with Egwene against Ishamael.

* The way they all ended up on the tower. Ta’veren *nods*

* Moiraine telling Lan she always saw him as the better of the two of them. Bless. I mean, we all knew what she meant, but it made him so angsty. We don’t need so much angsty Lan, much as I do adore the man.

* Moiraine raising the banner. Yes.

* Heron brand. Yes. “Twice and twice shall he be marked … Once the heron to set his path.” Watching the show is kind of like seeing prophecy unfold. I keep looking for the Signs of Things Foretold and am so thrilled when they appear.

* Lanfear looking so proud of herself for fucking with Ishamael’s plans until she realized he fucked with her’s first. Oh lol. Forsaken gonna forsake.

* Moghedien being an absolute fucking weirdo creeper. Perfection. Loved it.

Lowlights:

* We have to wait how long for season 3? Nonsense.

* Not nearly enough of you are watching this. Tumblr, I swear it’s made for you.

[scryarchives]

𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 - 𝐣𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

chaos has ensued in the city, and this villain has no intention of letting up. when all felt lost, a new hero showed up, much to jaime's surprise.

masterlist | previous , next !

– pairings: jaime reyes x oc

– warning: fluff, canon divergent, blue beetle movie spoilers, tw: mentions of blood

– author's note: created an absolutely new character for this chapter, and i discovered that i have no idea how to write fight scenes well. disclaimer: i don't speak Spanish, Nahuatl or Tamil so please do correct me if i am wrong! read more under the cut! :)

“Mierda, this looks messy,” Jaime winced at the sight below him where a figure stood, her hands spread out as people screamed around her.

“Khaji, what’s the situation like so far?”

“It appears the woman has psychosomatic illusions,” Jaime’s brows furrowed. “Psychosomatic illusions; the user can cast illusions powerful enough to–”

“Cause physical effects and injuries, I know what that means, Khaji. I took pre-law, I know what quantum physics is.”

The hero flew downwards, to where the villain stood, her laughter cackling in a twisted way. Her hair was frizzled and messy, a messily dyed lab coat over her shoulders as goggles covered her crazed eyes. She slammed a mace onto the roof of a now-abandoned car.

Snapping her fingers, the mace disappeared, sparkles remaining in its place.

“Come on! You are all so pathetic, don’t you all wanna play?” She hollered, waving her hands as a hatchet materialised in her hands, aiming it towards a poor civilian who saw his life flash before his eyes.

“Hey, that’s not playing nice,” Blue Beetle quipped, the handle of the hatchet in his hands, blade inches away from the middle of the civilian’s forehead.

Quickly, the hero tilted his head back at the civilian, who instantly ran out of range, seeking safety. The Blue Beetle raised his arm, aiming the weapon back at the villain, but before he could throw the hatchet, it disappeared, vanishing into thin air.

“And who are you supposed to be?” She sneered, her eyes narrowing with a huff. 

“The name’s Blue Beetle, but you look like… a mad scientist?”

“Oh, you’re so observant!” Her expression morphed into one of enjoyment, the woman hopping down from the roof of a car, watching as the hero formed light blasters from his wrists. 

Her eyes lit up in a warped sense of joy, a gasp of interest escaping her. Shaking her shoulders, she cracked her neck, eyes trained on the hero who had just entered the scene. 

“I can tell, you’re gonna be so fun to play with!” 

Without a second to spare, gauntlets formed around her wrists and the former scientist lunged in Blue Beetle’s direction. Swiftly, the light blasters disappeared, a shield forming around the hero’s figure instead. His forearms held up in self-defence out of instinct despite the glowing shield.

“Ohoho! You’re good!” She hissed, pressing harder against the armour. “I can’t wait to squash you!”

Blue Beetle grunted, pushing back against the villain, a yelp escaping her.

“No thanks, I’d like to be back for dinner in one piece,” He replied, the shield dissipating around him.

With a new sword forming in his hands, Blue Beetle aimed his sword in the woman’s direction, her gauntlets forming an ‘X’ shape and bringing the sword to a halt. The sound of metal clashing against metal filled the air before the woman replaced her gauntlets with a larger axe, moving out of the way just as the sword landed.

Moment after moment, blow after blow, the two figures were face-to-face once again before her weapon changed shape back into the gauntlets, her hands raised and colliding with the Beetle’s mask.

He let out a cry, punch after punch landing. He tried his best to fight back, but he could feel himself stumbling back. Memories flooded his mind as he was soon trapped in the corner, down on his rear and his forearms brought up to defend himself.

Jaime thanked whatever higher power that his armour was stronger than it looked, wincing at the injuries that would leave a bruise tomorrow.

“Say goodnight, Bug Boy!” The woman hissed, her arm raised higher than any of the previous punches before, zoning in directly onto his skull.

Jaime closed his eyes, waiting for the impact, waiting for the hard material to break open his armour, waiting to feel the metal crash into his skull.

But a shriek of pain filled the air, his eyes snapping open in alarm. He glanced upwards, finding the villain above him hissing in pain. A sharp, black blade glinted in the sunlight, lodged in the woman’s upper arm, the item set aflame.

Crimson blood trickled down the villain’s bicep, her gaze trained on her bleeding arm as anger filled her veins.

“Not on my watch!” Another voice cut in, both their heads snapping to the source.

A glare was settled on his saviour’s face, bushy ebony locks tied into a ponytail as a headpiece of gold and feathers were positioned into a fan-shape and tucked into her hair. Red face paint was splashed across her eyes, white paint lined in dots across her nose bridge. 

Baggy pants that were cream white covered her legs until mid-knee, and a similar-coloured strip of cloth underneath the gold belt allowed anyone to see the contrast of the vibrant feathers beneath the gold of the belt against the cloth. 

Donning red boots, the colour of her footwear complimented the gold arm cuffs that covered her upper arms, the gold of her outfit presenting itself in her circle-shaped necklace and belt sparkling in the sun. Her wrapped fists were clenched, and red flames enveloped her hands as she marched in their direction.

“Back off the guy, xinola,” She hissed, pulling a feather from her headpiece, and aiming it at the mad scientist above the beat-up hero.

As soon as the flame made contact with the feather, the material hardened up, turning shiny and sharp, just like obsidian.

“Another rival? My day just got made,” The woman hissed, pulling herself off of the Blue Beetle, gritting her teeth in partial anticipation.

“I thought this guy would be a pest, but you just might be on the same level of annoying as the one he’s on because now you’ve made me mad,” She grunts, pulling the shard out of her arm, yet the flame on her lab coat remained.

“What’s your name, peṇ?” The new woman narrowed her eyes, a smile gracing her lips. “I’d like to know the name of the first villain I’ve fought in this city.”

“Phantom,” She spat, her gauntlet-clad fists balling up. “The name’s Phantom. You must be a riot at parties.”

“How’d you know?” Phantom scoffed, eyes widening once she spotted a flame being slung her way.

“The dramatic entrance says wonders.”

“Well, Phantom,” The fire woman smiled, the fire in her hands growing larger. “I hope that you’re fire-proof.”

Before Phantom could make a comment, the flame that caught on her labcoat sparked into a blaze, grazing against her open wound and catching onto the open flesh.

She let out a howl of pain, her cheeks puffing up to blow out the flame, yet it persisted, the flame growing larger with the clench of the new hero’s fists. Phantom’s cries grew louder and louder, her uninjured arm now clutching the one that was set ablaze, her arm limp and rendered useless.

Phantom let out another hiss, eyeing the woman spitefully as the Blue Beetle’s eyes widened, pulling himself up from his behind.

The new woman glared, Phantom sneering as she formed an orb with her uninjured hand. Lifting it above her head, she slammed the item into the ground in front of her with a crash, smoke enveloping her figure.

The Blue Beetle’s saviour dashed towards the smoke, eyes wide in realisation. Yet, when the smoke cleared, she was gone without a trace, like a ghost.

“I really did not think that through… so much for that,” She muttered, turning to see the armour-clad hero behind her.

“You alright?” 

Jaime’s brows furrowed under his helmet, confusion running through his mind. Khaji-Da’s voice resonated through his head, but nothing registered.

“Who are you?” He mumbled, a smile growing on the woman’s features once more.

“The name’s Solar Flare, but Flare works just fine,” She raised her hand out to the hero, and an image flashed through Jaime’s mind, his new neighbour standing before him with her own hand raised as well.

Drea?

Unsure or not on whether Khaji had placed the thought in his mind, or whether he was seeing things, he slowly raised his own arm up. 

Hesitation filled his gut as he held back the urge to ask her questions, to interrogate her and find out the true reason for who she was, if she was even the same person as his new neighbour.

“Blue Beetle,” He slurred, their hands meeting. “I, uh, I had it, but thanks.”

“You sure had it alright,” She joked, her smile dropping temporarily. “Sorry, too soon?”

“No, no it’s fine. Where uh, where you from?”

“‘Scuse me?” She tilted her head with genuine confusion.

“You mentioned that it was your first time fighting a villain in this city earlier,” He mentioned, clearing his throat. “I mean, I just overheard from the fight with Phantom.”

“Oh yeah, I moved from Metropolis, but hey, that’s another story for another time.”

Her grin was so childish, so carefree and warm, Jaime almost envied her for her overall aura before realising that she did only appear towards the end of the battle. His head still reeled from the events earlier, brushing off Khaji-Da’s comments on improving his fighting form regardless of being the host of the scarab for the past few months.

Suddenly, a soft beeping rang out, Jaime perking up quickly in case the source of the noise was a threat. Quickly, Flare placed a hand on her ear, and the blue-clad hero realised that it was her earpiece emitting the noise.

Solar Flare then lowered her hand, smiling over at Jaime apologetically.

“I gotta go, but sorry about the whole fight intrusion thing, by the way,” She shrugged, running backwards. “I really do believe that you almost had it. Better luck next time! See ya around, Blue Beetle!”

With a jump, fire blazed out of her hands, and the new hero flew off, Jaime’s jaw slack with shock as he registered the slim possibility of the woman being his neighbour, the same neighbour that hung around his family constantly.

If his ego allowed it, he would’ve agreed with Khaji-Da that this woman truly could be a danger.

gif by @rob-pattinson

taglist: @mooncleaver @hoshi4k

< comment/dm me if you'd like to be on the taglist! >

[ffxivlucio]

(Count)Down to Dawntrail- Day 2- Heavensward

- Spoilers for Heavensward Patch 3.0 I think???? Idk? Major Heavensward spoilers ahead basically, take caution. This is for Countdown for Dawntrail- Day 2! Gods, I’m so rusty w writing lol, I feel a lil bad, but it’s fun! I will also try to use the tag hopesinger so I don’t get mixed up with his actual tag

It happens too slow, and yet too fast. Haurchefant screams, “Look out!”, and Lucio steps to a stop as Haurchefant blocks the spear of light that Lucio had missed in his sprint to get to Thordan. It is a lapse he will curse for the rest of his life. The spear is loud, a roaring buzz that has Lucio squinting as he throws up his arms in reflex. Underneath it, the *crack* of the shield flares bright purple in his synaesthetic vision and he screams out as *crack* *crack* The shield shatters, and he hears the buzz deepen and halt, a cut-off gasp, and the wet spatter of fresh blood. The light fades, and Lucio lowers his arms as Haurchefant collapses. He rushes to his side, and with Alphinaud, begins to try and channel aether to heal the glowing wound. Lucio numbly takes the staff off from his back, and raises it high. Green orbs surround the fallen knight, and Lucio’s throat tattoo glows green, and then fades. Nothing changes, and Lucio drops to his knees, caught off guard by how much energy he channeled. It was too much for the spell, and even then, the wound refuses to mend. Alphinaud stops, and Lucio’s heart drops. He takes Haurchefant’s hand in his own, and pulls it to his throat, but he cannot speak. Through his tattoo, he pushes the words he can’t say to Harche’s soul. *”No! We were supposed to be-!”* He cannot finish, before the knight pulls away. Lucio is fighting to keep the tears back so he can see his face. His throat burns with pain, and his tattoo glows a dark blue, overflowing with his grief. He can’t lose him, not one of the closest friends he had ever had after the Banquet. He had regaled him with so many stories, so many songs, and he still had so many more to tell! Harchefant shakes his head ever so slightly, and smiles up at his hero. “Oh, do not look at me so. A smile better suits a hero.” It pains him like nothing else, but for him, Lucio smiles. His best friend, and now nothing more, breathes his last. Lucio’s smile drops and he clutches at his throat as it surges with pain. The tattoo needs him to release his emotions. But he fears he cannot control the surge that would follow. So he holds it in, squeezing his eyes shut as tears stream down his cheeks. His hands move to his mouth as he curls into himself. He can taste blood in his mouth. The others’ concerns now reach him, but he just shakes his head. He is unable to speak for hours afterward, overwhelmed by grief. For a person like him, it was never to be.

[gshnstrs]

reasons behind visions

eichi - cryo: not sure yet but cryo just fits

wataru - anemo: following the trend of anemo characters having dead friends, he doesn’t technically have dead friends but there will be eccentric-specific lore. going off enstars canon, he feels that his friendships with the eccentrics are dying

tori - electro: idk i just thought it’d be funny to make him an electro claymore since he looks like dori

yuzuru - hydro: he’s very dedicated to his position as tori’s butler, and most hydro characters have a strong dedication to something

hokuto - cryo: im honestly debating on changing him to hydro but i remember he was like an “ice prince” or smthn in past enstars stuff

subaru - pyro: passionate about. uh i haven’t gotten that far. use your imagination

makoto - geo: iiii dont have a reason for this one

mao - dendro: he seeks knowledge to become a stronger fighter as well as a healer, as he wants to be able to be both instead of having to choose just one

chiaki - pyro: passionate about being a hero

kanata - hydro: fishie.. dedicated to his position as a member of ryuseitai? ill post better lore eventually

tetora - pyro: passionate about being the manliest man

shinobu - shinobus vision hasnt been decided yet. stay tuned for more bangers

midori - dendro: idk it felt right

hiiro - pyro: passionate about seeking out his missing brother

aira - electro: i had a good reason for this but i forgot what it was

mayoi - electro: electro characters tend to have some reason that makes them see the world differently. mayoi’s intrusive thoughts and stuff tie into that. i was really torn between making him electro or cryo ☹️

tatsumi - dendro: in gshnstrs lore he’s very wise i will elaborate eventually

nagisa - geo: hard-working .. uhhh i’ll elaborate one day

hiyori - electro: i will elaborate eventually

ibara - electro: sees the world differently since in gshnstrs lore he was raised to be a killing machine (i swear ill explain later) and when he finally escaped he didn’t understand how to be normal

jun - hydro i think: i havent decided yet but i think hydro could fit because i want to like. he’s dedicated to sticking by hiyori’s side and i think i might give hiyori a permanent injury or something. it’s just an idea right now

shu - electro: i think this might be obvious

mika - dendro: i can’t elaborate because it contains major spoilers for later lore

hinata - pyro: passionate about taking care of yuuta and shielding him from harm?

yuuta - anemo: he wants to be free from the expectations placed on him and hinata just because they’re identical

rinne - pyro: passionate about living his own life (you’ll understand later)

himeru - geo: uhhh idk i just needed more geo characters

kohaku - electro: it fits his colour scheme and uhh i’ll elaborate one day

niki - pyro: hes basically xiangling. very passionate about cooking

rei - electro: yyyyeah

kaoru - anemo: im so sorry its because of his dead mom

koga - electro: electro male characters always are linked to dogs so it fits LMAO

adonis - electro: sees the world different because he was raised in sumeru, not inazuma like the rest of undead

nazuna - undecided: stay tuned for more bangers

mitsuru - pyro: passionate about uhh idk just everything

tomoya - dendro: i dont have a reason for this

hajime - hydro: i dont have a reason for this either

keito - dendro: knowledgeable. also he shares a japanese voice actor with alhaitham (this isn’t why but it’d be really funny if it was)

kuro - geo: it just seemed like it fit

souma - electro: sees the world differently because hes fucking autistic about his sword idk. hes purple leave me alone

tsukasa - hydro: dedicated to becoming a knight and also a Specific journey that you’ll learn about later..

leo - anemo: he was once a pawn for eichi and seeks complete freedom from him. i know electro seems like it would make more sense for leo or even pyro but listen. i have convinced myself that he’s anemo

izumi - cryo: it just fits

ritsu - cryo: uhhhhhhhhh yeah

arashi - electro: she sees the world differently because she’s trans (i’ll come up with something better im sorry)

natsume - electro: it just makes sense

tsumugi - dendro: he has a lot of knowledge from the time he spent with eichi, but now he seeks more knowledge that he will use to guide and help natsume and sora

sora - electro: he sees the world differently because of his synesthesia (how do you spell it help)

madara - undecided, probably dendro or geo: uhhb yup

[the-reincarnated-princess]

So,I have. Question? What is your analysis on your throne and what do you live about the characters? Because I heard a recent spoiler that Medea kisses Eros and I'm not happy about it. Unless,Medea let Eros kiss her so that Medea can destroy Eros emotionally. Wait,that will be impossible. Sorry if I sound I'm theorizing because I really really wanted to know why Medea let Eros kiss her in front of helios of all poeolle.

OK. So.

I absolutely love Your Throne and at first it was just me being a bit edgy but then I absolutely loved how Eros was the villain for "cheating" instead of Psyche for being the other woman, and then I realized that it was not the only reason he was the villain and and and... ok the whole bodyswapping plot was also the first time I'd seen it happen, although I saw at least one other webtoon with that plot in the mean time. It was new, it was fresh it was bloody, the characters were all three dimensional and the art was gorgeous.

That's about what I like about the webtoon. For the characters, I loved that they were forced to evolve, Medea realizing what she is fighting for isn't spite but some kind of love / duty of protection to her vassals / friendship thing, Psyche growing out of the naivety she used to shield herself from the world (also, realizing as a reader that she was naive on purpose to protect herself), Helio like... whole childhood honestly, etc. Growing to love background characters, Bertie, Psyche's servants, the Queen, Medea's brother, etc.

As for the kiss,I might have reached that part in french but I'm not sure it's the same we're speaking of so I won't get into details, but I absolutely trust that the author won't just... have gone this far into the plot and all just to make Eros win, "get the girl", change Medea into some submissive queen... not when there was this whole arc dedicated to her realizing what had brought Eros' mom to become queen and what in being queen made her into the person she is now.

I might be wrong of course. But I'd say we need to keep faith in the author for this one. It's not a case of Lore Olympus losing its plot and filling with plotless fluff and then raising stakes out of nowhere before solving it in two panels next chapter. It's not a case of Remarried Empress and actually making the villains more appealing than the heroes. I think the author knows what they're doing.

[bramble-mouse]

Voretober 2024: Day 1- Space

Wrote a quick FFXIV ficlet, featuring Shinryu!Zenos and Meteor.

CW: Dawntrail spoilers, Vore (non-fatal, unwilling), Gore

MDNI! 18+ only!

“I crossed the great expanse for you.”

The Warrior of Light grit his teeth. His head throbbed, every nerve on fire.

“Rode the stars, aided in your slaying of a distraction, for you.”

Meteor’s vision was black. He fought for breath, reached a shaking hand towards his sword. He unsheathed it from the pulsating flesh below him, a sickly green that glowed just enough to illuminate the space he slumped within.

“You killed me, survived to return a hero to the Star. And yet, when I clawed my way back,”

The great voice surrounding Meteor bellowed, a draconic snarl laced through every word.

“You had forgotten me once more!”

The organic space lurched and nearly sent the hyur sprawling. The limited oxygen within Shinryu’s belly had already depleted enough to make his head spin.

“What must I do to be enough? What must I do for you?” Zenos’ voice, blended with the dragon eikon’s felt like a desperate child’s, demanding, afraid, wild. Was it Shinryu’s influence that’d gotten Zenos to consume him or was the former Garlean prince simply acting upon latent desire? With the amount he’d spoken of ‘devouring’ and ‘feasting’ like a hunter, Meteor wouldn’t find the latter all that surprising.

“Not eat me for starters, you mad bastard!” Meteor barked back. He gripped the handle of his blade tightly, raised his shield. His armour and the powerful aether that surrounded him protected from the roiling acidic fluid sloshing about at his feet. Thank Hydaelyn he'd been adapting his Paladin skills to Tural's beasts when his old enemy-friend had lumbered onto the field.

He could still picture Wuk Lamat’s stunned expression at the sight of a man transforming into a dragon- and snapping up her closest friend like it was nothing. Was she to be left to deal with the aftermath of the Ninth’s push into the Source? Or potentially face another rip being ripped open from another Shard? All bets were off, and now Meteor was at risk of being dragon food.

“I don’t have time for this!” Meteor roared. He reared back, swung his sword and felt it cleave layer upon layer of thick, armoured flesh- his way to freedom. A sickening shriek arose, both dragon and Garlean as the Warrior of Light pushed himself through the gorey opening-

And directly into a free fall over the rainforest. If Meteor died from the impact after fighting the literal manifestation of despair at the end of the universe, Emet-selch and Varis were going to get some very choice words for their parenting style. And a pair of broken noses.

Magic swept beneath Meteor's body and he felt his descent slow. He sighed, flicking dragon bile and blood from one gauntlet as Y'shtola's carefully timed magic lowered him to the ground.

[barbatusart]

❄️❄️❄️❄️💨💨💨💨

DIAGNOSE THOSE FREAAAAAKS!!!!! ❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️🌬🌬🌬☃️☃️☃️💎💎💎💎

❄️❄️❄️❄️☃️☃️☃️☃️💦💦💦💦

i didnt know what you meant for a split second LOL but word ok I GOTCHA. i did write everybody with cognitive "touchstones" in mind but used it more as one of multiple building blocks in shaping everybody's personalities & tried not to have anybody be a stereotype of their neural makeup. SPOILERS ABOUND BELOW THE CUT HEADS UP!

jake i wrote pretty explicitly as autistic. im not autistic myself but i have multiple close family members who are; ive been around it since i was little to present day & wanted to try my hand at writing an autistic character. i think i had it that his father is also autistic so his parents caught on pretty quickly & got him all the tools he needed growing up to live happily. unfortunately hes also extremely gullible & a firm believer in geek social fallacy

sal is a case of C-PTSD (compounded with the multiple head injuries sustained at the end of sad sack by the time sortie rolls around if thats illuminating at all) which is something he combats by making himself as physically large & intimidating as possible while using that as a social shield if that makes sense. he has this concept of himself as something he needs to mask (often literally) in order to behave as his "true" self, which also is a concept of himself that is "Not Me" that he shucks off anything he may have ever done wrong onto so he never has to take responsibility for anything. i deliberately did not write DID here but he is highly dissociative with poor emotional regulation & deeply low EQ (again: see sortie)

mal is a very nebulous anxiety disorder in an extremely extraverted person. his treatment of it involves trying to "shout" over his anxiety even louder to try & drown it out which goes about as well as youd expect; he actually nearly breaches into a full-on panic attack in book 3 where hes trying to light his cigarette. self medication is also 2 packs a day & his BP is like 220/120 at rest, but he doesnt go to the doctor much or declines blood pressure on the regular cus if he doesnt see it then nothing's wrong. nothing's wrong! he's also got some shit going on with not being able to perceive himself in any positive light unless he's positioning himself to be praised as a hero or directly comparing himself with somebody he considers "lower" than him, which when you put that up against the context of book 3 is like get the fuck away from me dude. more on that later, i got comic-related plans for mal lol

stone is a deep depression mixed in with barely functional alcoholism (starting to not so subtly breach over into alcoholic psychosis) which all roots back into an unmanaged grief thats turned into him looking for you-know-who in the people around him (ie romantic partners, this dudes a mess) he kinda laid his shit bare in 4 so the less said about that the better, his whole situation honestly skeeves me out bigtime

garv ive gone into his nonsense on here plenty but he is an unintelligent sociopath (no childhood woes he just got born that way) with the added issue of being raised on /b/ LOL

[sailforvalinor]

10, 21, and 33 for Gerda; 4-7 for Kay; 16, 17, and 20 for Joker; 3, 19, and 36 for Ace; and 35 for all four, if you please?

(I’m so sorry this took so long, my weekend was a bit insane)

Gerda:

10. What Middle-Earth race would they be?

Most definitely a hobbit—being comfy and cozy in a little hobbit hole in an idyllic countryside where she could visit her friends and relations on the regular would be like heaven to her.

21. What is their love language?

Probably quality time, although I think acts of service would be up there for her too.

33. Who are they most likely to confide in?

Her grandmother—she raised her, but also she’s the type that inspires confidences.

Kay:

4. What musical theatre ballad fits them?

“Corner of the Sky” from Pippin, or perhaps “Monster” from Frozen. (Yes, very different songs 😂😂)

5. If this OC has a love interest, what musical theatre duet suits them?

(Yes of course, it’s Gerda!) “A Million Miles Away” from Aladdin. There’s a song from Les Miserables that I think fits them better, but I think it edges a little too far into spoiler territory, hehe.

6. Which song off of your most recently played playlist are they?

“We’re Going to Be Friends” by The White Stripes.

7. What fictional character do you think most influenced them, or is most like them (intentionally or not)?

Well, he is of course the most inspired by his counterpart in the original Snow Queen, but other than that, maybe Jim Hawkins from Treasure Planet? There’s also definitely a bit of both Sora and Riku from Kingdom Hearts in there.

Joker:

16. What are they NOT afraid of?

The unknown. In most cases, it’s only a chance to discover new and beautiful things to her!

17. How healthy are their familial relationships?

Nonexistent, unfortunately—being an amnesiac Time Lord makes that sort of thing a bit difficult, though whether or not she had any family is something she’s desperate to know. Strangely enough, she never made those sorts of connections over her past 400+ years of wandering, despite her seeming extroversion. Ace is her first companion, actually.

20. Are they a romantic?

Absolutely, 100%. Refers to Ace as “darling” on a regular basis, even when they’ve only just met.

Ace:

3. If your OC were an instrument, what would they be?

I think I’m going to go with a cello, but I can’t really justify it in any other way than by saying that the vibes fit. Very classical and capable of dramatics if necessary, but can also be very understated.

19. Which Austen hero/heroine are they most like?

I hate to say it, because it sounds so cliche, but I think it’s Darcy—the introversion, the strong sense of justice, etc etc. There’s also probably a bit of George Knightley in there.

36. Which of their parents are they most like?

Much to his own chagrin, it’s probably his father—they both are very calculated, and have a bit of a ruthless streak. The difference is that Ace has a conscience. But Ace doesn’t remember his mother well enough to be able to compare himself to her, and his father and siblings were loath to talk about her.

For all:

35. They are stranded on an island. In front of them is a box, and inside that box is one item of their choice. What is in that box? (Yes, I stole this from Agents of Shield.)

Gerda: A responsible adult

Kay: A boat

Joker: Her TARDIS

Ace: Either a) Joker, b) a gun, or c) Joker holding a gun

[that0melette]

@blaruu made me wanna upload my own art now so uhhh here's the character that got me drawing again.

This is my OC for a Pokemon webcomic I've been following, Tales of Elysium, her name is Areto.

I wanted to share her here but her backstory involves a lot of spoilers for the comic so PLS GO READ IT, IT'S SO FUCKING GOOD! It's got blood and violence and cussing and sexual innuendos but IT'S RLLY GOOD TRUST! anyways backstory beneath the cut

So Areto grew up in Elysium, raised by a Salazzle apothecary named Lacertia. 'Tia was given Areto as a baby when she was gather medicinal herbs and berries near the edges of the Abyss one day. A young Axew boy came running out of the treeline bloodied with a gnarled wounded arm, and in his good arm he carried a baby Jangmo-o.

When Lacertia ran up to help him, he shoved the baby into her arms and said "Please, watch my sister Areto, I have to go help my mom!" before running back into the trees before Lacertia could process what was going on. Baby Areto had a deep gash on her jaw, and was covered in cuts, so she had to run back to the nearest village to get the baby help. She never saw that boy again, and although she looked for years, she never found a trace of their parents.

So Lacertia raised Areto as her own, and she was a ROWDY child. Areto constantly got into fight with older kids, even adults on occasion. The first time she met Lady Rhea, her first instinct was to headbutt the Legendary right in her face. One time while visiting Blossom Village, she even attempted to tackle Solon, or tried to bite Chiron's hand when he was just giving her a checkup.

Growing up, Areto idolized Leon's mother, Luna. She wanted to be just like the Lopunny and join the Phylax once she was old enough, to keep people safe by fighting back the ferals. So Lacertia had her train at the dojo in Blossom village, and once the girl finally evolved, she immediately said goodbye to her mother to go join the Phylax.

Areto joined Team Aspis, a Phylax team led by Attikos the Centiskorch. Her team comprised of Juniper the Thwackey, and Rin the sensu-style Oricorio. The four of them were an incredible team, Attikos was a veteran of the Phylax with years of experience leading teams, he named his team Aspis after a type of shield, hoping that his team would serve as the shield to protect Elysium from feral hordes in the absence of the Laconians.

Areto hoped that she could live up to her childhood hero's legend, and more. She wanted to earn respect for the Phylax as a whole, often joking that they'd be "Almost as revered as the Laconians themselves!"

With her help, Team Aspis was well on that path, Areto had incredible strength and stamina, taking down ferals five times her size and coming out of it ready for more. Her life in paradise was a perfect adventure.

Until the night Aperion set their monsters loose on the people in the current events of the comic. Team Aspis had been in Blossom Village to celebrate Leon's return with everyone else, they arrived shortly after the portals began to open, and wasted no time jumping into action to protect the people.

Fabius' hosts were an enemy unlike the ferals of the Abyss, Attikos was unable to adjust his plan for action in time, and in what was a short but bloody battle, the entire team was slaughtered. All but Areto, who barely managed to fight off the swarm of monsters, only to discover she wasn't able to save her team.

Devastated and broken, Areto returns to the sanctuary with a deep gash in her side. The healers there were able to stop her bleeding, and that's where she is at the time of the comic, watching Rhea and Solon struggle to protect their people.

The tassel she's wearing in her reference sheet isn't something she'll have until this arc in the comic is over, it's made from accessories her team wore. The beads were worn by Rin in her head feathers. The everstone was worn by Juniper who preferred to remain a small and nimble Thwackey. The blue scarf was worn by Attikos, weathered and worn from his years of experience. After the battle, Areto will gather these items from their remains and fashion them into a tassel she can keep with her at all times, to never forget them.

[jack-shadow]

Well everyone Else is making Spider-sona's and I enjoyed Across the spider-verse so I'd figure why not. I'm no Marvel Super fan so please forgive lore mistakes. (I'm not the best artist either as you can see from the below picture)

Eddie Brock (Earth-299)

He/Him

Eddie lived in New York Before an event known as the take over happened, Symbiotes landed in the Atlantic Ocean to take over the planet. Their first target was New York City, Great heroes were Taken over and Venomized by Symbiotes. During the evacuation Eddie was bitten by a Venomized Spider that tried to inject itself into Eddie's blood, from that experience Eddie gained Spider and Symbiote/like powers but aslo their instincts and Weaknesses.

In terms of unique powers, he has a psychic link with other Symbiotes. He aslo is very strong being able to tear apart metal with ease. He has the classic Venom mouth, his bite is slightly venomous but as you can imagine that doesn't really come in handy much. Thanks to his suit he can shoot a different kind of web that is Electricity charge to deal with Symbiotes. He is aslo Extremely adaptable to any Environment.

Eddie does have his weaknesses such as, loud nosies and Electricity, if hit with these his Symbiote instincts kick in (even if it's not a fatal amount) and the only thing he cares about is survival at any cost.

(Across the Spider-verse spoilers ahead) in terms of the cannon-Events. Eddie's uncle raised him as his father did not want to go through the Hassel after his mother died, His uncle worked for shield and while hard on Eddie taught him valuable combat skills. He died during the Symbiote take over, the Police captin in this version is actually Steve Roger's who was one of the only heroes to survive the take over.

Eddie is chill and goes into most situations with a level head, sometimes he doesn't take things to seriously though.

His best friends are Peter (his roommate and creator of the spider man suit) and Gwen (the street smarts/chaotic bestie)

I don't really have much more to say. I hope you like him as I put a lot of though into this version on earth I invision a dystopia cyberpunk feel for this World Idk. I might do more later if people want me too or if I feel like it.

[thequestersrest]

Hello and welcome to the Questers Rest, a place for adventures of all types and trades. Here, we offer amazing beds and on the road essentials for you, our most esteemed! And who knows who you might just run into at such a place? Perhaps a future party member or perhaps the enemy that’s been hot on your trail? Whichever it is, we at the Questers Rest hope you enjoy your stay and recommend us to future guests.

Extra Note, Regarding My FF7 Muses: Due to the disappointment I felt with the second half of the Remake, I have decided to represent their canon appearances within the 1997 release as well as the following versions included in: Crisis Core & Advent Children.

[ carrd ] rules will be placed here, be sure you’ve read them all—and thoroughly! Otherwise you’ll be under the Fizzle spell until you do so.

Muses and description are below the cut, if you have any questions regarding my muses, please let me know.

(DQ11) Hero, the 11th Luminary — hailing from the quaint mountain side village of Cobblestone, 11 is a young man who recently came into his powers as Luminary at the meagre age of 16. 11 was raised in Cobblestone as a baby, but is really the long lost prince from the once thriving Kingdom of Dundrasil. Already, his life is full of risks and dangers as he navigates the world with his quirky band of misfits, hoping to put a stop to the evil Jasper before the world is thrust into an ever lasting era of darkness.

(DQ11) Sylvando, *ahem* that’s the “Great Sylvando” to you, honey~ — originally hailing from Puerto Valor, Sylvando is the son of the famous Don Rodrigo, a legendary knight who would go on to train Hendrick and Sylvando in the art of combat. Yet, knighthood wasn’t where Sylvando’s heart resided. And so, with an eager heart Sylvando set out to carve his own destiny. Wanting more than anything to bring smiles to people’s faces around the world as a circus performer. He would later join the Luminary’s conquest against the dark forces that threatens their world.

(DQ11) Hendrick, the Luminary’s sworn shield — a strong and well-built man, Hendrick serves as the general of the Heliodor army, alongside his fellow compatriot, Jasper. Born in Zwaardsrust, Hendrick would go on to train under the ever-watchful eye of Don Rodrigo, alongside his son Sylvando. He would also serve as one the storylines temporary antagonists, believing that the Luminary was the Darkspawn. (Under construction)

(Chrono Cross) Harle, the franglais speaking-jester — The ever-mysterious and beautiful jester, Harle serves as Lynx’s right-hand women and later on, the protagonist’s temporary ally. She displays a playful and flirtatious side upon meeting Serge, the central protagonist, she is also very skilled in black elemental magic. [Major plot spoiler ahead] It is also later revealed that despite her human appearance, Harle is actually the 7th dragon who’s power is directly tied to the moon. Her proper title is the Dark Moon Dragon.

(Chrono Cross) Karsh,

(Chrono Cross) Glenn,

(Final Fantasy VII) Sephiroth, —

(Gurren Lagann) Kamina, the headstrong leader of Team Dai Gurren:

(Dragon Ball) Gohan,

(Dragon Ball) Cell,

(Dragon Ball) Vegito

(Dragon Ball) Gogeta,

(Dragon Ball) Android 17

(Dragon Ball) Android 18,

(Dragon Ball) Android 21,

(Hellsing) Alucard,

( coming soon… )