Here’s the sad truth: I know fuck all about the Overwatch backstory. everthing I know about Overwatch beyond playint the game is filtered Throgh Holligay’s ‘fics. I actually don’t know anytihng about the Omnic war, like ROBOTS ARE BAD BUT MABYTE NOT and that’s about as far as I can take it.
BUT LET PHARAH BE MAD AT HER MUM THAT’S SEROIUSLY WHAT I WANT MOST OUT OF BACKSTORY RIGHT NOW HOLY FUCKING SHIT I GET SO PISSED ABOUT THIS
The Omnics were devastating most of…well, most of everywhere, honestly, and they were building giant robots to fight them in Korea (because robots that couldn’t think fighting robots that could think absolutely wasn’t going to cause more problems, absolutely wasn’t going to seem like…like riding the corpses of their own loved ones into battle against them, it wasn’t, it wasn’t, no matter what Ami said, no matter what Setsuna implied, it wasn’t they were going to make this better), and Australia was just gone, and maybe that should have hurt more, but it wasn’t like Australia had ever felt like a real place anyway, and…
And Usagi looked at the empty air in front of her heart where the ginzuishou
wasn’t, and told herself over and over that it wasn’t as bad as people kept saying it was, because if it was that bad, if it was that bad, surely she would have received a sign, a something, a new candy-colored focus for her power. Surely she would have been able to protect her world.
Surely. Because if this was as bad as everyone said, it would have to be the birth of the Silver Millennium, and that–
The Omnic strike on Tokyo would later be viewed by some as one of the turning points of the war. The Omnics had been expecting victory. They had been expecting resistance, in the form of Overwatch teams. They had been expecting screams.
They had not been expecting a shock wave which threw half the population outside the city while encasing the remaining citizens in blinding silver light. They had not been expecting the crystal shell which formed immediately in wake of the blinding brilliance, trapping more than half their troops in a substance too strong to shatter.
They had not been expecting the blue-haired girl in the tattered uniform of an urban legend, a Tokyo myth, to stagger into Overwatch headquarters a week later with an impossible computer in her hand, saying over and over, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”
They had not been expecting her to have cracked the seed of their driving A.I., or for her vengeance and brilliance to have carried her through so many viruses in such a short time. She would never go into the field, would never stop trying to crack the shell that enclosed her lost city, but there were those who looked at the skills of certain hackers and saw her steady, surprisingly mischievous hand.
They had not been expecting the black-haired girl in the robes of a priestess, surrounded by her army of avenging crows, to descend on them like the fires of Hell and Heaven combined. They had not expected the fury of a heart broken and held together only by hope. It had never been in their programming. They could never have seen her coming.
They had not been expecting the brown-haired girl who called down lightning, or the aqua-haired girl who swung the sea like a sword, took back the coastlines and held them, held them so long, held them until her golden girl of a partner could lift the wind and make of it a blade to slice through the throat of the world. They had not been expecting the tiny one with the unflinching eyes and the polearm that opened armor like foil, or the woman who stopped time itself, who looked at the testing of an experimental plane, and wept, and walked away.
Most of all, they had not been expecting the golden-haired girl in the orange uniform, the one who tied her hair into high ponytails and screamed at the sky every night, who flung light like ribbons, who condemned the heavens as if the Moon had personally done her wrong.
“You were supposed to take us with you!” she would howl, and cut down battalions.
Later, it would be agreed that the end of the Crisis began when they made a target out of Tokyo. And none save the girls no one had expected would know that really, it began with a golden-haired girl frozen in the moment that her pajamas unraveled into ribbons, with her outstretched hands still cupping a silver crystal, waiting for centuries to go by, waiting for the thaw.
There are sso may words in this and I can’t focus no them but they’re a bunch ofwords from SEanan and so probably TERRIBLE FOR ME
i spent some time looking up what size tumblr windows are/how tags work/etc. and i decided to go ahead and use this as my art blog. these are just pokemon b/w sprites recolored/pixeled. nothing special. martel is my fav here. i plan on posting more symphonia stuff in the future, so subscribe or follow or whatever if you want.
shoutout to paris hilton for not abandoning her ‘micropig’
when it turned out that it was a normal piggy who grew up to be a big fat fatty piggu
Actually that’s pretty standard size for a micro pig. Pigs are ENORMOUS, dude. The average pig on a farm is 7 feet long and over 700 lbs. A normal pig would be much bigger than Hilton.
EDIT: This is a photo of the world’s smallest recognized breed of pig, the kune kune. I’m sorry cartoons lied to you all.
This is the pot bellied pig, another famous “small” breed.
This is your average adult pig.
Big ole’ pigs.
Reblogging because I feel so misinformed about pigs right now. My life is a lie.
The kune kune is from New Zealand (I’m a New Zealander, we have a genetic compulsion to point out when things are from New Zealand) and its name is Maori for “round and fat.” But yeah, people haven’t bred pigs to be really SMALL small because really SMALL small pigs wouldn’t be very useful for the main purpose for which people have historically kept pigs, pork.
Articuno, Zapdos and Moltres as baby chicks! With the team leader memes going around I couldnt help but draw Zapdos as the one who would want the most attention haha
Usagi wanted a party, and when Usagi wanted a party, of course Minako wanted a party, and when Mina wanted a party, of course Rei didn’t want a party, which meant it was easy to get Usagi and Rei fighting, and then go to Mako and Ami and point, and whisper, “I bet a party would make them feel better, ne?”
Boom. Party, and she didn’t have to do a thing except for show up and look fabulous, two things she did with absolute and total ease.
Only Mako had made this amazing cake, all gilded and glittery, and of course Usagi had asked how it was so shiny, and Mako had produced this edible glitter dust that was supposed to be used to make food shine, and it was fine, it was fine, it was fine on the fondant, on the frosting, on the fruit, it was fine…
But then Usagi had opened the jar and looked inside, and sneezed, and the air had been full of glitter, so light that it didn’t fall, just hung there and slowly gilded everything, stuck to everything, and Mina had frozen, not quite breathing anymore. She’d met Setsuna’s eyes across the room, and seen her own sudden, heart-stopping panic mirrored in sorrow and in graceful resignation.
You know, she’d thought, and Setsuna had inclined her head, ever so slightly, like agreement. Like understanding.
“IiiiiiIiiiIIiii think we need more fruit punch,” Mina had suddenly warbled, bright as a songbird, careless as the dawn, before she’d turned, and fled, out into the night, away from the (moondust) glitter that drifted, shining, in the air.
It wasn’t as easy to run in her civilian form as it was in her senshi identity, but she’d had plenty of practice. She’d managed. Now she was sitting on a rooftop, compacted as small as she could be, her knees drawn to her chest, and the sky was a blanket spangled with stars, and she couldn’t–
(freeze burn explode) (die she couldn’t die she couldn’t)
–breathe, she couldn’t breathe. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been able to. Maybe she’d been suffocating her whole life, and she’d only noticed now. Maybe she was going to suffocate forever.
Maybe she deserved it.
There was a footstep on the roof behind her. Setsuna sat, her own longer legs stretched out, feet braced against the gutter. Mina knew without looking that Setsuna was watching her with concern, and so she didn’t look.
“She was kind sometimes, you know.”
“So I hear.”
“But not often. Not to you.”
Now Mina did look, surprised. An unkind word from Pluto about Serenity was rare enough to make this a condemnation.
Setsuna shook her head. “She…blamed you, I think, because it was easier than blaming herself. Blaming herself would have meant admitting fallibility, and if she had done that, she would have forced herself to question so many, many things. So she blamed you. There was no kindness in her, not where you were concerned.”
For the love of Serenity, remember, Mina thought, and the words were worse than a wound; they were a scar, unhealing and unchangeable. “I never asked for any of this.”
“I know,” said Setsuna, and put her hand against Mina’s back, lending her strength without comment.
They sat together, the only two people in a human city to remember a time when there were palaces on the moon, and watched the stars go ceaselessly by.
Rhio's Tunglr Stuff 