actuallyastingray

[actuallyastingray]

She-Hulk has a book club party with her friends - Janet Van Dyne, Patsy Walker, Sue Storm-Richards (along with her children, Franklin and Valeria Richards), Misty Knight, Colleen Wing, Marsha Rosenberg (a.k.a Volcana) and Captain America (Steve Rogers).

She-Hulk v4 #12, 2023

[actuallyastingray]

This was so fun to think about, seriously you’re awesome and I love you anon ♥️

Damian:

• *looks in the mirror five seconds after the spell hit. gasps* “I’m HIDEOUS!!!”

• Wayne Enterprises employee, smiling brightly: “Good morning Mr. Drake-Wayne. How are you today?”

Damian: “I don’t know but you’re fired.”

• He gets so fed up with having to push Tim’s bangs from his eyes that he resorts to borrowing Cass’ sparkly butterfly hair clips to keep them up and out of his face.

• “Why am I only an inch taller than I used to be? I still can’t reach Pennyworth’s cookie jar even on my tiptoes. You need to grow more, Drake.”

• He finds out why Tim wears long sleeves so often, but he doesn’t say anything to Tim about it. He does file it away for future conversation, though, and he monitors Tim more closely even after the whole incident is over.

• “Damian, why are you chugging an entire carton of milk?”

“Because Drake is too small for me to tolerate any longer. I’m a beanpole. A toothpick. A runt amidst a litter of bats.”

• *goes outside for an hour* “HOW THE HELL AM I SO SUNBURNED??? WHAT ARE YOU, A VAMPIRE???”

• He’s sad when his pets don’t recognize him and run when he tries to pet them. As a solution, he douses his entire body in catnip. Turns out Tim never told him he was allergic to catnip, so that was an interesting discovery.

• He has to drink at least four cups of coffee a day or else he gets sick because at this point Tim is addicted to coffee.

Same goes for normal food. Eating ramen noodles with goldfish and butterscotch pudding is fine, but he ate one (1) apple and his body tried to reject it.

• Ives: “Hey Timbo, what’s up?”

Damian: “Uh….Hello, associate of mine. Feeling very fleek today. Everything is cool beans. Crackalackin.”

Tim:

• “Why are my pecs so huge.” *cups them* “They feel like rock hard muscle melons. Like a cantaloupe filled with pure power. What strong breasticles.”

• He’s amazed by the amount of muscle on Jason’s body and spends most of his time trying to see what stuff he can crush with his bare hands.

*breaks a stick in half* “I AM ALMIGHTY.”

• He braids Jason’s white streak and pins it back with some pink hair clips Steph gave him.

*poses in the mirror* “I’m a buff zombie princess.”

• *on the phone with Roy* “Hey Roy, so remember that secret I told you once and demanded you never to tell anyone else? Yeah, that one. Would you mind explaining it to me in explicit detail, slowly so I can write it all down.”

• *gentle gasp* “I’m allowed to drink alcoholic beverages in this body.”

*later that night after his fifth shot of appletini* “DO YOU EVER JUST THINK ABOUT THE MUPPETS AND CRY??? KERMIT THE FROG MAN, KERMIT THE FROG.”

• He has to wear sunglasses and a hat whenever he goes out because he has to make sure no one in Gotham recognizes the late Jason Todd.

• The first time he sees what Jason’s body really looks like under all the armor and layers, he’s shocked. Jason doesn’t take his shirt off in front of people much because he’s embarrassed by all the scars. Tim tries not to look at them because he knows Jason doesn’t like sharing this detail with anyone, but occasionally he finds himself absently tracing the autopsy scar under his shirt. He has a new respect for Jason after this whole ordeal.

Jason:

• “I feel like an overcooked noodle.”

• Adjusting to how flexible Dick is turns out to be quite the experience. He does the splits with no problem. He swings from a tree branch and lands on the ground as fluid as a leaf. He does four backflips in a row.

Jason, cartwheeling through the room: “Watch as he flips with the greatest of ease, the rad noodle man on the flying trapeze.”

Dick, in his tiny Damian voice: “That’s not even how the song goes!”

• “Why does my mouth taste like ketchup and ice cream 24/7. What do you eat, Dick.”

• At first he thinks it’ll be nice for once, being able to walk around Gotham without worrying about people recognizing him as being a dead man. Turns out, it’s almost worse when he can’t go to a McDonald’s without a bunch of paparazzi and fan girls following him around and begging to take a picture with the hottest Wayne boy.

• He goes to the police precinct for work and is on edge the whole time because this is the first time in years he’s been surrounded by cops who don’t want to arrest him.

• Catcaller: “Hey, nice ass!”

Jason: “Thanks, I got it from my brother!”

• Dick from the next room: “If you smoke in my body and give me cancer I’ll kill you!”

Jason, with a lit cigarette in his mouth: “It’s a metaphor, you see. I died once and I’ll die again because I’m not a fucking coward.”

• After he’s back in his own body: “Hey, I wonder if I can still do all that flipsy shit.”

Later: “So, Master Jason, tell me again how you shattered your collarbone?”

Dick:

• He eats one (1) cheeseburger, but unfortunately forgot about Damian being vegetarian so he winds up getting violently sick because the body he’s in doesn’t accept meat anymore. So that was a learning experience.

• “Why does it physically hurt to smile. Who hurt you, Damian.”

“A bunch of assassins and a psychopath for a grandfather.”

• Damian may be athletic, but he’s nowhere near as stretchy as Dick is used to. He tries putting his leg behind his head and nearly breaks his pelvis.

One upside is he’s far smaller and lighter in Damian’s body, which makes swinging around on the trapeze a breeze. He’s like an Acrobat Barbie doll.

• He has to call Tim for help when he can’t reach his cereal on the top shelf.

Tim, walking into the kitchen half asleep and confused: “Are you one of Santa’s elves?”

Dick, sobbing on the floor: “I CAN’T REACH MY FRUITY PEBBLES”

• He starts crying again later that afternoon because “THIS WEAK ASS BODY CAN’T EAT SRIRACHA WHAT AM I GOING TO DO NOW???”

• He stands in the middle of the room and watches all the adults bustle around: “I am a bean. A tiny chihuahua. A mere flea in a world of elephants and woosles.”

• “If there is one upside to all of this body-swapping, at least I can finally use the Dora the Explorer baby toothpaste without being ridiculed.”

• Jon: “Hi, Dami! What’s up?”

Dick: *to himself* “Hmmm what would Damian say…Oh, I know!”

To Jon: “Salutations, comrade. Photosynthesis. Lackadaisical. The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

[actuallyastingray]

A Dad Lance Comic

Just a warning: There’s a panic attack. Also, there are bright and dark colors so eyestrain beware. The first image is a gif, and there’s a slight jitter so eyestrain warning x2. Please be safe and don’t read more if any of these will bother you.

Keep reading

[actuallyastingray]

I was thinking about au where hermit or undercover Jedis and clone boys hanging around in the Sith Empire.

Sith had won the war with Jedis, and Jedi were living in shadow to hide from Empire. Empire really wants to get rid of all Jedis, but many people dislike Empire, so it was not a surprise that still many Jedis managed to survive.

Plo was living in outer rim, communicating with other Jedis with comm,(or his telepathic ability) and quietly seeking in small town's outside hideout.

Quite and honest working(well, bounty hunting, in Plo's case, because many Kel-Dor were hunters) living, until new boys appeared in town.

Wolffe was one of the clone, who was a experiment of Kamino. He had escaped from Kamino with his brothers, when there was a rebel in facility. Wolffe and Boost, Sinker, and Comet were together when they arrived in unknown place by smuggling.

Wolffe was almost fourteen year old, and twin Boost and Sinker were twelve, and youngest Comet was ten years old. (There was no accelerated aging for clones.)

Wolffe needed to protect his brothers, but he was still boy in dangerous and harassing outer rim. All he knew was how to fight and kill, or endure the pains during the trainings.

Little Comet unfortunately got critical fever when they barely made their hideout in corner of the town. Comet coughed hard and couldn't even sleep because of headache, and Wolffe needed medication and food for him.

Wolffe wandered around the dark alley, desperately, despite he knew that was too dangerous for him, but he needed to find anything for his brothers.

And when some odd hooded scary alien approached to him, Wolffe snared and pulled our his knife to stranger.

And of course, Plo has bleeding heart for children, especially for the hurting ones.

After their not so smooth first meeting, Plo made contact with Wolffe for several times, secretary in shadowed alley. He gave Wolffe some of few cash, and food or water, even the medication and treats.

Wolffe and his brothers were scared of Kel-Dor stranger at first, but as the time passed, they began to relax when they saw Plo in alley, gently holding gifts to them.

Maybe they got too relaxed. The world outside was still cruel for the children. Especially for the lost ones.

When Boost and Sinker noticed Wolffe didn't come back, they panicked, and wandered around the town to find Wolffe.

While Sinker taking care of still sick Comet, Boost found Plo at market, and desperately clung to his robe, asking him for help.

Of course Plo promised that he will help, after gathering crying Boost in his strong arm. Hug.

When Plo found Wolffe in the cage of the slavery, he Electric Judgmented the slavers, and rescued Wolffe.

Unfortunately Wolffe got hurt his eye from abuse, but he was still alive.

Boost almost lost himself when he saw barely breathing Wolffe in Plo's arm, he wanted his old brother to live!

And Plo carefully laid his hand on Wolffe's head, and focused his Force to heal the boy.

Boost "Oh my Stars, he is Jedi"

Boost "Oh Kark, I asked help to JEDI"

Poor brothers, of course, got scared because they were now with Jedi, the one priority wanted from Empire, while they were also runaway from Empire's experience.

But their oldest and youngest brother were dying, and when Plo carefully offered them his hideout and food and treatment, they needed to receive them for their brother's sake.

Plo "(comms on) Little 'soka, now I have four new children under my forster care."

Ahsoka "I knew it. By the way I also have found some kids while I was traveling the outer rim!(shows blond clone boy)"

"Wait, why do they all have same face??"

+) Protective Wolfpack(+one Jedi)

[actuallyastingray]

Rookie of the Year - The "K" word

Life was full of disappointments.

Sometimes it was a flat tire, sometimes it was a cheating spouse, sometimes it was a flooded basement, and sometimes it was sleeping through your alarm.

And sometimes, after a nine-and-a-half-hour bus ride through driving snow and winding mountains, it was disappointing to show up at your hotel only to be told that your reserved rooms were currently flooded.

"Once again sir, I can't express how sorry I am for the inconvenience this has caused you. All this cold weather has been playing havoc with our pipes. Rest assured we will compensate you for the issues."

Coach was no stranger to disappointments in his line of work. A single misplay during a match was enough to unmake weeks of preparation and training. It would take a lot more than burst pipes and flooded rooms to faze him in the slightest. The hotel manager, a tall mustachioed man, was busy combing the room database in order to find proper accommodations for the team. Seeing as they would be camped out all week until the Iron Tank match, Coach at least wanted everyone to be comfortable, and not worrying about overflowing bathtubs during the stay.

After a good half hour of searching, questioning, and phone calls, the new reservations for Supa Strikas were finally close to completion.

"If I would give you some peace of mind sir, would you like me to show you around your rooms? I can have the porters start bringing up the luggage in the meantime."

Coach nodded in approval, "I don't see why not. If nothing else, it would help me in learning my way around the place."

The manager leaned slightly to the side to look over Coach's shoulder.

"And, err, this will be a...solo tour I take it?"

Coach smirked. He didn't need to turn around to see what the manager was glancing at. The Strika bus hadn't exactly been meant for long car rides, and nine hours stuck seated with minimal internet service would drive anyone crazy. He knew from experience that the team could be real drama queens when faced with discomfort. Today however, the boys had been real troopers toughing out the inconvenience with minimal complaints. After a long plane ride and equally long bus ride, the team were sore, tired, and hangry.

Though currently, they were sprawled across some of the lobby couches, either asleep, falling asleep, or in Dancing Rasta's case, feigning sleep.

"A solo tour is fine. Don't worry, I promise they won't be going anywhere or causing too much trouble while I'm away."

Still, as he made his way towards the waiting elevator behind the manager, Coach made sure to knock on the wooden paneling.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shakes wasn't asleep, at least not yet. Realistically, he should have been asleep five hours ago during the road trip. Being a teenager meant he was hardwired to resist the allure of sleep regardless of how exhausted he was. Over the past few hours, he had used various distractions to keep himself awake; texting memes to Spenza, playing the demo for SL5000 XL, practicing Brislovian, and listening to podcasts. Haven long since exhausted all forms of distraction, and thus himself, he was reduced to scrolling through Nadder all while being sandwiched between Blok and the armrest.

Just a little longer. Just...a little...and then I can sleep in a real bed. I can have pillows...and blankets...and be warm...just...a...little...

His eyes drooped lower and lower. A voice inside him kept telling him to stay awake until Coach got back, but after so long without sleep he was shutting down. Somewhere nearby he could hear someone snoring, though he lacked the mental process to wonder who.

Maybe...just a few...and then I can...sleeeeeee.....

"PORTER? PORTER! PORTER!!!!!!"

In the enclosed space of the hotel lobby, the shrieks echoed like a roaring crowd of Super League fans. Shakes was jolted away from the blissful reprieve of sleep, accidentally kicking his shins on the underside of the coffee table. Pain and surprise combined to drag him back to wakefulness. Curled up on the couch, rubbing his shins and fighting back curses, he bore witness to the culprit behind his rude awakening.

Truthfully, he had only heard stories about these mythical beings. Once considered an alien concept to regions outside of North America, videos from Altivo Industries later made knowledge about them widespread. They supposedly had the power to numb others into states of rage and agony with their words alone and could reduce conversations to screaming matches in the blink of an eye. Those who survived an encounter with them were scarred for life and would commonly regale others online with bizarre and incredulous stories of their encounters.

Shakes had never encountered one of these creatures himself. He had only heard stories from Cool Joe, who was far more familiar with their kind. And yet, here it was before him, the Reaper of Retail, the Fiend of Food Service, the Neighborhoods Worst Nightmare.

The American Karen on holiday.

This particular specimen looked exactly like the stories described them: badly bleached blond hair styled in an inverted bob, tiger-striped yoga pants, faux fur coat, expensive handbag, and fake stick-on nails that looked more akin to talons. She stormed up to the booking desk where the scrawny, meek looking receptionist stood.

"EX-CA-UUUUUUSSSE ME! But WHEEEEEREE is everybody tonight? A guest has to walk into the hotel carrying her own luggage? No porter, no bellhop, no concierge, no valet? I was told this was an upscale establishment that would cater to my luxury experience, and yet ALLLLLL I have experienced so far is incompetence."

All this yelling was accompanied by vigorous finger snapping and foot stomping. To Shakes, now wide awake, it was a rather fantastic spectacle. He was used to El Matador acting like a five-year-old on occasion, but never so consciously, and never in public.

The poor receptionist had gone board stiff during the Karen's rant and looked ready to go bolting out the front door in terror. He must have been either well trained or well paid as he swallowed his fear and bravely engaged with the Karen.

"Sa-sa-so Sorry madame. We've, er, we've been having a lot of trouble with all the recent storms, so you see..."

"And HOOOWWWWWW is that my problem?" came the rude interruption.

The receptionist swallowed again, "We'll we...we are a bit short-staffed at the moment, a-and our current staff is busy accommodating our guests right now..."

"Well get them down here," Karen's screeching interruption came again, "I am a guest and I have not been accommodated in the slightest. I will not be treated like this. Get the staff down here and get my bags unloaded. RIGHT! NOW!"

Suffice to say, even exhausted Super Leaguers were incapable of sleeping through a screaming tirade of this magnitude. Grunts and curses resounded as the rest of the team struggled back to wakefulness. Needless to say, no one was pleased to see why they had been so rudely disturbed.

"Ugh, Karen alert." A still half-asleep North Shaw groaned out.

Cool Joe was the only once conscious enough to reply, "Maaaan, are we really doing this right now? This couch was just starting to be comfy too."

Amidst the complaints from Supa Strikas, Karen was still giving it her all up at the booking desk while the receptionist was barely keeping his head up.

"Honestly! WHYYYYYY is this so difficult? It's like you are intentionally trying to be difficult. I sincerely hope not ALLLLL of the staff here are completely incompetent."

"Ma-madame, there is no reason to go about insulting the staff. We are all doing our very...."

"'gasp' ARE YOU CA-UESTIONING ME!? I would very much hope not. I happen to be very good friends with the owner, who by the way promised that I would be absolutely pampered to during my stay here. Your behavior right now will affect how much money I will be spending here."

"I..I...madame I've said it will just be a few minutes while our staff collect themselves..."

"Well, those had better be some very short minutes now, won't they?"

Poor receptionist. He had turned the color of sour milk and looked about to be sick. It must have been his first Karen encounter. All he could do was take a shaky breath and try to compose himself.

"I...will see about getting them down here...as soon as possible. I...er...do you have a reservation, madame?"

Karen, huffing and puffing, turned away and waved a hand dismissively.

"Well of course I do you idiot, but considering how I've been treated so far I will be speaking to someone about getting an upgrade to my accommodations. Or do I need to call the owner?" She shot one last glare over her shoulder at the poor guy, "First you will see to bringing in my luggage, personally if necessary. Then I will be back to discuss my upgrade." The receptionist was left staring down at his desk, seemingly shell shocked by the whole encounter.

Back at the couches, Supa Strikas were shooting venomous glares at the Karen while trying to stay comfortable on the stiff couches. Shakes was still massaging his throbbing shins when his vision turned...orange tiger-striped patterned. His eyes had barely started to drift upwards when the loud retort brought everyone to attention.

"AH-H-HEMM"

It was perhaps the most forced sound anyone had ever made in the history of throat clearing, and had the situation been any different Shakes probably would have burst out laughing. Unfortunately, his sleep deprived brain decided to respond in the worst possible way to a Karen.

"Can I help you?"

The Karen looked positively bug-eyed as she scoffed down at him.

"UGH! Is it not common knowledge that a man has to give up his seat to a LADY? Clearly you have no culture or breeding."

They all eyed her with barely concealed annoyance.

"Uh, last I checked lady, there were about four other seating areas in this lobby." North Shaw jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to another richly decorated set of couches behind him, "Feel like, I dunno, maybe giving one of them a try?"

Karen didn't even have the grace to turn and face him as she answered, "I don't care what couches are over there. I NEEEEED these ones because I'm waiting on a reservation which is far more important than whatever you vagabonds are doing. Now get up and give me my seat."

Shakes, regarding her like a petulant child, sat back and made to make himself comfortable, "No"

"NO! WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO?!"

He shrugged, "No means no, and it's a complete sentence. So 'No' I'm not getting up."

"Yeah, and those rules don't apply here, crazy pants," Karen spun around to glare at a smirking El Matador, "You see, he may be a gentleman, but you're no lady."

Amidst the chuckles from Supa Strikas, Karen flushed a shade of red that matches their jackets, "HOW DAAAAAAAARE YOU! I will not stand here and tolerate these insults."

"Then stand somewhere else and we'll just insult you there too. Cause honestly, you're just making it too easy at this point," North Shaw piped up again.

The laughter and jokes at her expense seemed to be frying the Karen's brain. She turned a darker shade of red while glaring at each of the Strikas in turn before turning back towards her initial target. Or at least, whom she assumed was her initial target. Her french frying brain somehow seemed to have mistaken Blok for Shakes.

"Alright you, up and at em'," She barked, foot stomping again in earnest, "Cause judging by your size, lord KNOOOOOWS you could do with standing."

Blok simply crossed his arms and sat back, mirroring Shakes pose, "Grzzl!"

Karen looked like she had been shocked. Still red in the face, she stared bug eyed back at the defender with equal parts confusing and rage.

"W-What?"

Blok crossed his arms tighter, "Grzzl gru grzzl," he repeated more insistently.

Karen turned redder still. "What is wrong with you? Do you speak English? Are you even talking? What is even happening?"

"He's Brislovian lady," Shakes growled at her none too kindly, "He doesn't speak English, but he told you 'No' in case you were wondering. And for the record, we're closer to Brislovia then we are America so you shouldn't be judging people for not speaking English."

"Grggbl grub grzz burzzle grrr," Blok supplied helpfully, now pointing at the irate woman.

Karen, still pomegranate red, raised her voice to a shriek, "Don't you DAAAARE point at me. You are INVAAAAADING my personal space."

Blok smirked, then raising his voice a few octaves, repeated back, "Grzz gr GRAAABLE brzl burb."

He now had Karen's full attention, so she fortunately didn't notice Shakes trying to conceal fits of laughter.

"What are you SAAAAYING? Talk normal!"

Blok once again raised his pitch, now imitating a clear falsetto, "Brzzlr brug GUZZZBLR? Bruglr blurgh gruzz," His speak was complete with exaggerated pantomimes that had the rest of the team in stitches.

Karen's brain was now fully short circuiting. With her wide lower body and beetroot red face, she looked like a volcano ready to erupt, "...this place!....THIS PLAAAAAAACE!!!..."

Her shrieks had finally roused the receptionist, who bravely approached the raging she-devil.

"Ma-madame? Please I-I must insist that you lower your..."

Karen turned her fury upon this convenient new target.

"YOU!! THESE IMBICILES... THROW! THEM! OUT!"

"Wh-wh-WHAT? Madame I cannot possibly do that."

"You can and you will. They have intruded upon my luxury experience, and I have every right to demand them evicted from the premises. Now do as I say and get rid of these...HOBOS!!"

Behind her, an irate El Matador surged to his feet snarling, "Hobos?" and had to be pulled back into his seat by Big Bo

"Easy El Matador, Easy. She didn't mean it."

The poor receptionist was turning pale, either with fear or nerves, which contrasted magnificently with Karen's still tomato red face.

"M-m-madame, I...I cannot do that. You see they are..."

"They are a bunch of useless vagrants" (Big Bo and Dancing Rasta had to restrain El Matador this time) "You will evict them right away or I will be calling my lawyer AND the owner."

"Bu-but...it's Supa..."

"YOU DAAAAAARE TO QUESTION ME? I AM A CUSTOMER AND THE CUSTOMER IS KING!!"

The receptionist looked all the world like a kicked puppy in the rain; utterly defeated. He blinked a few times as if fighting back tears before making one last attempt to salvage the situation.

"Eh-emm, a-a-at least let me contact my superior before doing so."

Karen, her face only now starting to return to a more natural color, threw her hands up in the air.

"Finally, some progress. I have no idea why it takes forever to get anything done in this place. While you're at it we can see to my room upgrade. I expect a jacuzzi, fully stocked snacks and liquor bar, 24-hour room service..."

The duo marched back towards the front desk; Karen once again oblivious to the sneers directed at her back. Twisting Tiger was the first to break the silence.

"Can you believe people like that exist? I'd call her a witch, but I don't want to insult Grimm's fans."

Shakes was still glaring at Karen's retreating form, "Tell me about it. And here I thought Skarra had no class."

"Grubble Grrzzz," Blok chimed in with his own two cents. Then he did something quite unexpected.

Cupping one hand over his mouth, in a shape somewhat like a duck bill, he blew a loud raspberry in Karen's direction.

It was hard to say who had the more entertaining reaction: Karen, who immediately spun around now fully purple in the face, or Shakes, who had to chomp down on his jacket sleeve to stop himself from roaring with laughter.

Other than a few sniggers at Shakes' reaction, most everybody was silent as Karen stormed back over to the couches, looking all the world like a T-Rex bearing down on its prey.

"Who. Did. That?!" She was apparently so mad she briefly forgot to scream.

"Who did what?" Years of practice meant Dancing Rasta could pull off a mean poker face, especially when amused.

"That...NOISE! It was one of you. I know it was!"

"Seems to me ze only one making all ze noise around here is you," Klaus tried to sound sympathetic, which wasn't helped by the cheeky grin he was sporting.

The receptionist, noticing his charge had gone astray, came scurrying back over squeaking, "Madame, your room..." But it was too late.

Karen was now spinning in circles, arms flailing. The poor receptionist had to jump out of the way to avoid getting clobbered.

"I WANT A DISCOUNT! I WANT AN UPGRADE! I WANT THE MANAGEEEEERR!!!"

Her back turned once again, she missed Twisting Tiger lean over to Cool Joe and whisper, "She said the 'thing', pay up."

Nobody in the lobby was taking situation at all seriously anymore. How could they, when faced with a raging, blueberry faced, tiger stripped monstrosity who could only blubber out incomprehensible demands. The Strikas, the hotel staff who had crept out to see what all the fuss was about, even the formerly timid receptionist were laughing uproariously at the spectacle. Unfortunately, it wasn't over till the fat lady sang.

Karen seemed to be unable to handle the scenario she found herself in. Never before had she been faced with so many people blatantly disrespecting her. She kept spinning about, trying to fixate on a single appropriate target. Ultimately, she settled on her original target, the skinny teenager who was still snorting into his jacket sleeve.

Shakes was still blinking tears of mirth out of his eyes, so he was initially unaware of the approaching danger. Too late did he see the she-demon storming towards him, talons out and ready. He wasn't ready, but Blok was. Quicker than even Karen could react, the Brislovian defender was out of his seat and planted himself between the demoness and her quarry.

Dead silence. The team, now on high alert, were all on the edge of their seats in case they needed to react. The receptionist had seen an opening and scooted back to the front desk.

Blok and Karen stood facing each other. He had a good two feet on her, but her shapely thighs and ample waist meant she likely outweighed him. Blok broke the silence first, jabbing a finger at the still purple faced woman.

"Grrrrbl grrr gun grrrrrrrr"

One didn't need to speak Brislovian to hear how angry Blok sounded. He was more growling like an angry bear than speaking.

"DON'T you DAAAAAARE touch me," Karen hissed back. Once again oblivious to going on's behind her back, she failed to notice Dancing Rasta and Big Bo now on their feet.

"I tink it's best ya went off ta bed, madame. Don't be makin' dis worse or else..."

"OR WHAT? What are YOU going to do. I will have my lawyers sue you to pieces and thrown out on the streets. You beasts! YOU CRIMINALS! YOU..."

"WHAT'S GOING ON IN HERE?!!!"

Coach stood framed against the lights of the closing elevator doors, looking all the world like an avenging angel haloed by the sunrise. Slightly behind him, the mustachioed manager was took in the scene with a calm but perplexed expression before scurrying over to the front desk and the still pale receptionist.

This time, it was Karen who broke the silence with a loud, hissing inhalation. At first, Dancing Rasta assumed she was about to attack, or worse start yelling again, until he noticed the look of unholy glee on her face.

"FINALLY! The MANAGER!"

She clomped over to Coach, grinning like Skarra after a successful foul. Coach, unfazed, raised an eyebrow at the approaching threat.

"Is there something I can..."

"YES! You WILL be helping me. I expect no less from the manager."

If Coach could have raised an eyebrow any further, he would have, "And what exactly..."

"First of all, your staff is absolutely atrocious. I have had nothing but problems since I walked in the door. You would be wise to fire them all. Secondly, I was promised nothing but the best from the owner himself. By that, I mean that only the very best accommodations which YOU PERSONALLLLLLY shall check me into. I do not trust any of these other simpletons to handle my requests and quite frankly..."

She rambled on and on, never once pausing for a breath or to see if her demands were being met. Behind her back once again, the real manager looked like he wanted to interject, but was busy trying to talk the poor receptionist off a ledge. The rest of the staff were staring at the display with a mixture of apprehension and wonder. Meanwhile, Supa Strikas were staring with growing looks of horror. Nobody, absolutely nobody, ever got away with talking to Coach in such a way. This woman was so completely oblivious to the fact that she was signing her own death warrant.

"...and finally, I want these...these...ADDICTS thrown out immediately."

Everyone froze. Karen still had her back turned, but the Strikas could see Coach's eyes blazing at her words.

"...Excuse me?"

"Are you DEAF? I. WANT. THEM. THROWN. OUT. like the trash they are. I will not tolerate living on premises with such worthless people. If they weren't homeless trash already I would sue them, but that takes too much money. Just get rid of them any way possible thank you."

Silence.

Any other time the Strikas would have been incensed by her words, but she had made the fatal error of saying those words in front of Coach of all people. Coach hadn't moved a muscle during her rant, and the glint from his glasses kept them from reading his expression. It was highly unusual, very highly unusual for him to remain tolerant in such a situation, and the team were internally bracing for an eruption that would put even Karen to shame.

But it never came. Instead Coach did something that had everyone (expect Karen) even more frightened than before.

He smiled.

A small knowing smile that none of the Strikas had seen before. Then, without pause, looked over Karen's shoulder at the team watching with horrified expressions.

"Boys," His tone was soft and calm, and everyone's danger senses were suddenly going haywire, "Why don't you head up to your rooms on the fourth floor. I'll be up shortly after I... handle things here."

Another pause. The hotel staff didn't move. Basic training had never covered what to do in such a scenario. Then, quite gingerly, the team grabbed their bags and edged their way collectively towards the elevators. Distantly they could hear Karen's renewed screeches, but it was mostly drowned out by a white noise of fear. Coach had bravely turned his back on her to watch them go, and the last they saw of him before the elevator doors closed was that unnerving smile.

Nobody spoke on the ride up. They all just stood in silence while the elevator music provided an awkward replacement for the screaming she-devil in the lobby. When the elevators finally dinged open on the fourth floor, nobody was thinking about unpacking. They gathered in the hallway, staring back at the elevators as if expecting something terrible to come bursting out of them.

"I don't vant to go back down zere. I'm scared of what I might see."

"She's completely loco. Do you think Coach...?"

"I don't hear any police sirens...yet"

The converstaions continued until Dancing Rasta decided to break it all up.

"Alright guy. Let's, well, best we just get settled in for now. Nothin' we can do about it for now."

It was like a switch had been flicked, everyone suddenly remembered how tired they were.

"About time too. I'm ready to sleep until next season at this rate."

"Yeah, me too. Hey Shakes, before I forget, what was that thing Blok did to that psycho that freaked her out so much?"

Shakes paused halfway to his room. Behind him, North Shaw was waiting expecantly for his answer, and his silence now had the rest of the team hanging on as well.

"Oh, er, well, you see it's a Brislovian thing," He replied, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. The looks he and Blok were getting made it clear nobody was buying the answer.

"No duh, so is everything else Blok says, no offense big guy. So what made this so funny. C'mon bro I'm gonna up all night thinking about it at this rate."

Shakes tried to back up, but was still mostly surrounded by his teammates.

"Wellllll....Brislovians don't refer to Karens as, well, Karens. They have a way of...insulting somebody who is crazy belligerent in public like that. I read about it from my Brislovian guide on the bus."

Shakes pulled out the little red booklet from his pocket for emphasis. North Shaw was starting to look more and more amused as the reality sank in.

"Wait, so that thing he did was like giving someone the finger in Brislovian?"

"Err, kind of. Yes and no."

"Well what does it means?"

"I really shouldn't say North. It's...kind of colorful, and err, demeaning, and well....HEY!!!"

Dancing Rasta had come up behind Shakes and plucked the booklet out of his hands, then flipped through it to the page Shakes had bookmarked. His eyes went wide in shock and immediately snapped it shut.

"Oh my! Yes, VERY colorful indeed. Shakes, Blok, I do hope the both of ya aren't using dat sort of language in public?"

Shakes had the good grace to try and look offended.

"Whaaaaat? Noooooo, c'mon captain, you know us. We're way more mature then that."

He gave Dancing Rasta a good impression of puppy dog eyes for emphasis.

"Grouble gruzz gurg"

Blok stuck his lip out in an unmistakable pout as well. Together they made for one of the most unconvincing displays Dancing Rasta had ever seen. But he never had time to try chastising them for it.

*ding*

Everyone froze as the elevator doors slid open behind them. Coach stepped out looking pristine. Not a wrinkle in his jacket nor a crease in his tie. The smile was still present but was now more satisfied than sinister. Dusting himself off, he cooly regarded the collection of shocked expressions starting back at him.

"Settling in okay, boys?"

Klaus broke silence first.

"COACH, YOU'RE ALIVE! I mean, you didn't kill anyvon. I mean, is she still...?"

Coach held up a hand to silence the onslaught.

"Everything has been taken care of boys. Why don't you all get unpacked and I'll see you tomorrow for breakfast."

He walked calmly through the assembled Strikas to his room and swiped in, pausing only for a cheerful, "Goodnight." And then he was gone.

Still in the hallway, Blok whimpered something in Brislovian and held up his travel bag in front of him like a shield. Shakes patted him on the shoulder, looking shell shocked.

"Yeah, big guy. Very scary indeed"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As it turned out, the night one encounter with Karen was the most dynamic thing to happen to Supa Strikas that week. The blizzard raging outside had proven too much for the rest of the Supa League. Rumor had it that the Fortress Stadium was also suffering from frozen pipes and had to be closed down for emergency maintenance. All things considered, being stuck in a rustic hotel for a few days was quite nice.

Of course, the team was still dying to know what transpired between Coach and Karen after they left. Approaching Coach of course was not happening. Nobody was that brave. The hotel staff were being unnaturally quiet about the whole ordeal, out of either fear of awe. Most of them gave up the search after the first few days, though Klaus and El Matador still routinely checked under the lobby couches and tables for bloodstains.

Three days later, a pause in the weather allowed the Strika bus to roll in for emergency evacuation back to Strikaland. Another nine-and-a-half-hour bus ride, followed by another twelve-hour flight back home was not something Shakes was looking forward too. Fortunately, he'd spent the entire day before downloading everything from movies to podcasts to keep him entertained on the ride. As the team filed in, he pulled out one of Spenza's conspiracy playlists (How Technicalli were using cloning technology to win the Supa League) and prepared to bore himself to sleep. That was, until an insistent tapping on his shoulder jerked him out of his stupor.

"Blok? What is it?"

The Brislovian defender was grinning and pointing out the window towards something on the sidewalk. There she was, Karen in all her unholy glory. After a week of listening to Klaus' theories on how Coach could have made her disappear, Shakes was honestly surprised to see her in one piece. Well, mostly one piece. Her hair was a bit of a mess and she clearly had not put any makeup on recently. She was currently turned away from the Strika bus and glaring at the hotel, coffee cup clutched in her claws. Shakes looked back at Blok, the beginnings of a smirk forming.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Blok nodded, and they both took their seats closest to the windows.

A few minutes later, the Strika bus began its departure down the road towards where Karen was standing on the sidewalk. On reflex, she glanced at the large red bus coming her way just in time for two of the occupants to throw open the windows and jointly call at her.

"BYE KAREN!!"

*pbbbbbbbbbbbbt*

The banshee screeches that followed them down the mountain could have been mistaken for a pack of wild Grimm fans. But inside the bus, they were drowned out by the raucous laughter of the men in red.

Hey Supablr. Remember when I said I had no writing schedule? By that I didn't mean I was gonna disappear for three weeks, but between this monstrosity of a short and getting wrapped up in a dozen other drafts, I got overwhelmed. Next one hopefully won't take as long.

Also thinking I might put these on AO3 since this isn't going to be the only long story.

#supa strikas #supablr #rookie of the year

[actuallyastingray]

DAD LANCE…. 2

Here’s older Silver, getting prepared for his first shift as a member of the Elite Four (Johto or Kanto, haven’t decided lol) and Dad Lance is there to wish him luck :)

[actuallyastingray]

HERO! Comic

PAGES:

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Updates weekly on Saturday, you can read ahead on Patreon! :) Everything you need to know is below! :)

Keep reading

[actuallyastingray]

Rookie of the Year - Insomnia

"Just for tha' record, you're damn lucky Coach is a heavy sleepah"

Insomnia was an absolute curse. Dancing Rasta had long ago come to live with sleepless nights on the couch, usually accompanied by tea, chocolate, and late-night sports highlights. Predictably, said sleepless nights usually coincided with high stakes matches against the Super Leagues finest, y'know when being well rested was most important. How he had managed all these years surviving on four hours of sleep was still a mystery to Supa Strikas captain. Tonight however, it seems that he wasn't the only one languishing awake in the wee hours of the morning. At least he had chosen to do something calming with his night, like enjoying a cup of tea and reading about Riano's new skincare regimen.

The team's newest striker and rising star, however, was making no attempts to settle down for the night. The fact that they were both now at least a mile from the rental house in a rather rundown local football field made that clear enough. Shakes at least had made a passing effort to sneak out the front door, and probably would have gone unnoticed had no one else been awake. Whether or not he was aware that he had been stalked a full mile to the local park was no longer relevant. In fact, Rasta had been watching on the sidelines for a good ten minutes, watching goal after goal after goal, before finally speaking up. At least, he had been watching the shots. With no stadium lights or, at the very least streetlights, it was hard to tell if Shakes was actually scoring anything.

Another five or so shots later and Rasta was tempted to just walk up and snatch the bag of footballs away just to evoke a reaction. Fortunately, Shakes spared him the effort by finally voicing a reply.

"Don't really see the problem captain. Suns gonna be up in a couple hours anyway. Just a little early morning warmup before the big game, am I right, heh heh?"

A full decade of dealing with Supa Strikas on a day-to-day basis had taught Dancing Rasta some valuable life skills, such as when someone was trying and failing to use humor to disguise their emotions. Shakes, both fortunately and unfortunately, was by far the easiest to read, which was saying something given how short his time with the team had been thus far.

"Ya do realize that its winter right now Shakes? As in shorter daylight hours? Suns not comin' up for anotha' six hours at best. But that ain't the point right now. Something's troubling ya right now, isn't there?

"Troubled?" Shakes echoed with another wayward shot, "What implies that I'm troubled by anything right now? Can't a guy just head out for a little late night practice session?"

"Well let's start with da fact that it's pitch black out. Last I checked, ya need to at least see where ya shooting at ta score. Then we can get ta the fact that ya chose to sneak out without sayin' anythin' or leaving any notes." Rasta, seeing yet another ball go shooting off to the net, chose to step between the rookie and the remaining pile of balls. Befitting the darkness, and likely sleeplessness, Shakes was halfway back to the pile before he noticed his captain had changed positions. His tracksuit managed to hide most of his face, but the telltale slump in his shoulders and bowed head implied Shakes was running on adrenaline fumes. "I don't have ta be Coach to tell ya dis ain't healthy Shakes-mon. Ya need your sleep for da big game tomorrow, especially when we facin' Iron Tank of all teams. Ya know Uber will take any advantage he can against ya."

Even in the darkness, Rasta saw quite clearly when Shakes' shoulders tensed at Iron Tank's captain's name. 'Well, that's step one completed', he mused 'Now let's see where this goes from here.'

"Sleep huh? So why are you up then captain? Coach is way more likely to punish you if you aren't rested."

'Ah, deflection then. Alright Shakes, I can play that game if you want.'

"Coach ain't gonna punish me for having trouble sleeping, just the same he ain't gonna punish ya for having more nightmares about Uber."

Shakes went stiff as a board and Rasta couldn't help but mentally pat himself on the back for the successful detective work. But now was not the time for celebrating just yet. He took the opportunity to close the gap between them and slid an arm around the rookie's shoulder. Shakes tensed further before realizing Rasta had once again moved without him realizing.

"How bout we take this back to the rental. Ain't no reason to stay out here anymore."

Rasta was expecting some amount of protest, but Shakes made no attempt to resist being walked back down the street. The rookies hood hid his face, but Rasta was more than certain it wasn't due to Shakes starting at his feet. It was a little more than halfway home before either of them attempted talking again.

"So...Uber. I know he's got it out for ya Shakes-mon, but y'know you don't need to be afraid of him. I mean, after what we pulled on the Iron Tanker, you should know that we..."

"...Captain..?"

"...Ya"

"I...It's...It's not Uber."

"What do ya mean, Shakes?"

Shakes voice dropped as he tried once again to hide inside his hoodie.

"M'not having nightmare's about Uber. And it's not Iron Tank either"

"....Well don't be tellin' me dat nothings wrong, cause I know dat somethin' be very, very wrong right now"

What came out next wasn't entirely audible. Even with ears trained to hear Coach barking out plays from a football field away, Dancing Rasta still had to strain himself. Out of whatever Shakes was trying to convey, only one word made came through clearly.

"...What about Automatic?"

The tensed shoulders made it clear Dancing Rasta had struck a nerve again. His hesitation made it possible for Shakes to pull ahead at a brisker pace, shoulders squared and hands hidden inside his jacket pockets.

"...S'nothing captain, okay? M'just trying to be better"

"Bettah? Bettah at what? Shakes-mon, ya had an amazing season last year. Ya one of the best strikas on our team. Ya do so well at all our trainings. Ya already one of the best"

"So was Automatic"

Silence

"...What?"

"A-Automatic. He was one of the best. He was a Supa Strika way before I joined. That didn't stop you guys from throwing him out first chance you got. How am I supposed to survive here if I don't stay ahead of the curve, huh?"

More silence. Longer silence. Finally ended with a long-suffered sigh from Dancing Rasta.

"Shakes, listen ta me, ya don't know da full story about Auto or why you replaced him. Don't ya go makin' assumptions when ya don't know the full story."

Shakes stood with his head half turned, giving the impression that he was looking over his shoulder if not for the hood.

"I know you were both friends. You both join Supa Strikas at the same time. Except he got kicked off and you didn't say anything when I joined in his place."

"Dat's not even half da truth, Shakes.", Rasta rarely ever raised his voiced outside of the pitch. He hadn't meant to yell, and for a moment he was worried the neighbors would be storming out, screaming about rude awakenings. Fortunately, the neighbors seemed to be heavy sleepers. Unfortunately, his outburst put Shakes back in defense mode; shoulders hunched and back turned. He needed to right this wrong before Shakes walked away with more woes.

"'Sigh' Auto and I...I dunno if we coulda been called friends. We joined at the same time, and maybe things were good between us. Da truth is Shakes, we were never close da way you and Skarra were. Da media knew we joined at the same time and spun some crazy story about us being best of friends. We started ta hang out togetha since it meant betta media exposure. Truth is, we were never best friends even at our best. We were just...teammates who had each other's back, not much else."

A pause. Shakes had at least stopped walking away, so Rasta took the opportunity to close the gap between and continue.

"I dunno what went first, our friendship or Auto's skills. But once one went, the other wasn't far behind. I guess it shows how close we really were seeing as Auto never once spoke about it. Every time I tried ta get him to talk, he brushed it off and acted like I was the enemy. He never really tried ta make nice with da rest of the guys. Ya might have noticed no one has much to say about Auto, even after he's been gone."

With Shakes no longer walking, Rasta drew level with him and took the opportunity to spin him around, face to face.

"Shakes, Coach might have brought ya on to replace Auto, but we were never planning to kick him out. The real plan was to have Auto as our sub, but I guess his pride couldn't take da hit. We didn't kick him out, and no mattah what happens we won't do it to you either. You're already a bettah man than Auto, a bettah player, and bettah friend. Don't ever worry about being kicked off the team, cause I promise it won't ever happen."

Silence again. Had anyone been looking out their window in the dead of night it would have made for a strange sight; two figures, one much taller than the other, silhouetted in the darkness. A scene made quite touching when the short of the two moved forward and grabbed the taller around the waist in a desperate hug, which was affectionately returned.

It wasn't the first time Dancing Rasta had let a teammate cry on his shoulder. The last time had been when Aunt Hilda had ended up in the hospital after a car crash. Klaus had been inconsolable until it was announced his parental figure had no serious injuries outside of a few bruises. Helping a teammate break free of his nightmares was much more touching.

Shakes was trying, and failing, to muffle his sobs all while trying, and also failing, to blubber what sounded like a mixture of thanks and apologies. Rasta let him continue for a few minutes before Shakes finally stepped back, wiping his eyes. His hood had come off during the hug and Rasta could plainly see just how much of a wreck his newest teammate was. His eyes were baggy, showing just how badly he had been sleeping of late. It was hard to tell whether they were bloodshot from crying or lack of sleep. Perhaps it was time to remedy that with what little nighttime was left.

"C-c-captain, I..."

"I know we gotta lot to talk about, but how 'bout we get some shut eye before the game tomorrow. Don't worry, we'll have plenty of time after to talk about it."

So, with his arm safely fastened around his teammates shoulder, Dancing Rasta led the way back to the condo

Hours Later

"Soooooo, we just gonna ignore them or what?"

"Or what, I guess."

Like most human beings, none of the Supa Strikas were big morning people, even on the day of a League match, which meant it took a while before anyone noticed the elephant in the living room. Today, instead of the coffee maker, sports news recaps, or Twisting Tiger's legendary bed head, they had something else to gawk at.

Dancing Rasta and Shakes lay snuggled together on the living room's rather spacious couch, still clothed in a mixture of pajamas and workout gear. Dancing Rasta was leaned against the arm, one arm wrapped protectively around Shakes. Shakes himself was buried beneath the blankets wrapped around his shoulders, curling into his captain's side. It was a very touching sight, and not one the rest of the semi-sleep deprived Strikas were expecting to encounter so early in the morning.

Big Bo, taking in the scene, took a sip from his coffee mug, "Might as well leave them be. We still have a few hours before we gotta head out anyway."

Behind him, North Shaw slid into the room, "Ooooor" he drawled with a sneaky expression on his face, "We could be immature and draw on their faces."

Big Bo proceeded to roll his eyes halfway through another sip, "Yeah, sure, brilliant idea North. Not like they won't immediately suspect you or nothing."

"No no, let him continue. I like this idea." El Matador appeared next to him with an equally mischievous look. This was accompanied by a round of snickers from the rest of the team assembling behind them.

North took this opportunity to pull a sharpie out of his pajama pocket and start towards the sleeping duo. "See? El Mata-dude agrees with me, that's reason enough. Alright, anyone know how to write "Bogus" backwards?"

North was still turned around with the sharpie uncapped so he failed to see Dancing Rasta's eye crack open the slightest before slipping shut again. The sharpie was midway to his face when the team captain snatched North Shaw's arm, bringing the defender whirling around in fear.

"Try it, and I'll make sure Coach has ya doin' pushups until your arms fall off." His eyes snapped open in a gaze straight out of a horror film, leaning in to emphasize, "Dat. Is. A Promise."

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

Abandoning the sharpie, North Shaw tripped over himself as he scrambled back towards the door. The other Strikas had long since made themselves scarce, and a muffled thumping from the floor above indicated that most had retreated back to the relative safety of their rooms.

Any other day, Dancing Rasta might have considered pursuing for payback, but the slight movement under his arm reminded him of why he was confined to the couch in the first place. Fortunately for North Shaw, his screams had not disturbed Shakes. The young striker was still fast asleep under the blankets, completely unaware of the shenanigans that had just occurred. Dancing Rasta sank back into the couch, fully awake just like he had been for most of the night. Insomnia was a curse, one which plagued him nightly and reduced him to scavenging for coffee and chocolate at unholy hours. But this time at least, it had at least done some good.

Rasta sank back, let Shakes curl closer, and closed his eyes. It would be another few hours before they had to actually get up for the match. Another few hours of pretending he was getting some shut eye, or at least another few hours of thwarting whoever decided to mess with him.

#supa strikas #supablr #rookie of the year

[actuallyastingray]

remember that time pokeco unofficially decided that Raihan and Leon were Ash and Goh’s gay dads, I sure do

[actuallyastingray]

Hello again Supablr!

So bad news, my personal takes series, as fun as they have been, are now completed. All good things must come to an end.

Better news, the reception I ended up getting from the community has helped to resurrect my writing muse, which means I am glad to keep creating more content for you to enjoy

Best news, rather than do another takes-esque list, I'm planning two full sets of one-shot stories surrounding the Super Leagues biggest stars.

The first set, which I've decided to call Rookie of the Year, will be set sometime post Rookie Season but before the main series, and focus on Shakes getting some one-on-one bonding time with the other Strikas.

The second set, Off the Pitch, will instead focus on various side characters in the Super League and their struggles off the field.

I already have about half a dozen drafts up and running and I hope to have the first fic done by next week. Just a forewarning, I do not have a set writing schedule with my current job so these will be done when I get them done. I might also post these on AO3 once I get going, but they will all be on Tumblr.

Anyway, see you all soon with the first release.

#supablr #supa strikas

[actuallyastingray]

Whelp, this didn't take long to finish. Time to round out my Supa Strikas takes with some much beloved side characters.

Nandi: Best. Sister. Ever. Rookie Season 2 needs to have her bonding with the other Strikas and embarrassing Shakes in front of them

Spenza: Elementary, my dear Shakes

Supa Fran: How every writer sees themselves while making contributions to the fandom. Come to think of it, she has pretty much every single tic most fandom writers claim so she should be totally relatable

Jean-Pierre: I know he's a giant a-hole to the team, but as someone who loves baking but is surrounded by Weight Watchers killjoys, I just have to sympathize with this man

Mrs. Altivo: Marc Zuckerburg's wine aunt

Spike Dawson: Is he a Joker or a Jigsaw parody? Also, why does Klaus not loathe this guy for hoarding strudel?

El Ariette: GIT OFF HIS LAWN

Ursula: I get the feeling she's always two seconds away from shanking someone

Ginerva: I don't care if she didn't say anything more than three consecutive words in the show. Her accent is amazing.

Skarra's Niece: I put her in the pile with Morgan Stark, in that she was present for 5 minutes of screen time, has basically no lines, and yet the fandom collectively goes gaga over her for literally no reason. Seriously, if I wanted Kids Who Say The Darndest Things, I'd go on TikTok.

Xing: See earlier take on Riano. I will not forgive Moonbug for not having her come back as a consultant for Sa Ming and giving her the character depth she deserves

Hack: See previous takes on Xing and Riano. The least they could have done was make him part of Spenza and Supa Fran's entourage in the later seasons

Attak: See previous... you know what, I'm not gonna continue like this. Just assume I hate Moonbug for conjuring up characters with great potential and then throwing them away after one episode

Kat/Foxy: The biggest mystery is how a guy like Skarra kept a lady like this in good standing long enough to call in a favor

Nanny Garcia: Can we get an episode where someone makes El Matador cry, and she shows up and beats the snot out of them with her carpet slippers? I really want authentic, angry, Abelita energy out of her.

And so ends my Supablr takes series (assuming Rookie Season or the main series doesn't continue). Fortunately, I have plenty more Supablr content waiting in the wings. Stay tuned.

#supa strikas #personal take #supablr

[actuallyastingray]

Hello Supablr. Sorry this took forever, but I've been working on a follow up project once I'm done with these. More on that later, so for now just enjoy the takes

Skarra: Feral, cackling gremlin trying to pretend he's not empty inside. Needs a hug, possibly several hugs, but is too afraid of cooties to ask. He's either going to have a Prince Zuko level redemption or go full Anakin Skywalker

Dingaan: Dammit Dingaan! You can't be both the lovable, clueless himbo and dumb, jock bully at the same time. Pick one!

Automatic: So, if we ever get a Rookie Season 2, are we gonna see him become the third wheel in Skarra and Shakes' rivalry? Cause no joke, this guy lost his job to Shakes and has way more reason to hate him than Skarra does

Max Power: I'm not a shipper, but why are there no pairings between him and Shakes? I mean, technically there's two of him, but still

Dooma: Oh Dooma, Dooma, Dooma. The writers made such a big deal about bringing you back, and then they promptly forgot about you. Guess upstaging Skarra really isn't all that easy.

Uber: Somehow, a 6.5, 300+ lb. German muscle man is giving me more babygirl vibes then a Sailor Moon character. Also, it's hilarious when you realize he outranks his coach.

Ja Nein: The rarely seen lovechild between adorkableness and pure evil. The "first day at the unit" meme was invented for this guy specifically.

Thor: If he grows a beard, we can call him Odin

Von Eye: Why did it take me four seasons to realize his name is a pun? What is wrong with me?

Chuck: Seriously, I want to see this guy succeed. I want him train up his team, pull off a win, and feel good about it just so he can tell Toni to screw off

John Johnson: The most loveable himbo in a team that consists of equally loveable himbos

Miko Chen: The only thing not completely wholesome about him is how little screen time he gets. That's about as shameful as Ura-Giri's strategies.

De los Santos: He really needs his own Boss theme, but does that make him the bad guy? Cause lets face it, he's not the bad guy

Don Aldo: That's not how hair physics works

Ninja: The second most absent arch-rival in my history of watching cartoons. At least they both brought him back and gave him an identity as El Matador's rival. Still wish we got to see more of the tigers

Liquido: Ten years ago, if I told myself I would one day describe someone as a "sociopathic surfer-dude" I would start to question my own sanity

Andre Meda: His name is an astronomy pun, his team uses constellations as a secret formation code, and his coach has them train in outer space. This guy is a huge closet nerd, and you can't change my mind.

Vladmir Savich: They made a few half-baked attempts to make him a villain and the fanbase is having none of it. Good for him.

Riano: WHY IS THERE NOT MORE CONTENT OF HIM AND SHAKES BEING FRIENDS? They were such good friends, and we have like zero content to prove it. Do the writers not realize how much of a foil he could have been to Skarra? Riano and Shakes being best friends, and Skarra is feeling like he's been replaced, thus hating Shakes even more. Sorry for the long rant but c'mon Moonbug, this guy had so much potential

#supablr #personal take #supa strikas

[actuallyastingray]

The Commanders After Spending One Rotation In Fox's Position:

Gree: He just gives Fox a hug to make up for the last few years.

Cody: He manages to hold himself together until he can lock himself in a fresher...where he sobs loudly.

Ponds: He doesn't realize the office isn't completely soundproof, so everyone can hear his frustrated screaming throughout the day and right before he leaves.

Wolffe: He punches a wall until someone opens his (Fox's) office door.

Bly: He lasts three hours before he hurries away, saying something about needing to find Aayla.

Bacara: He walks out of it like it was another day on the frontline--but he's going to name every kill he gets in the future after the people he dealt with in Fox's position.

Bonus Captain:

Rex: "...I shot the chancellor."

Cody: "YOU WHAT!?"

Fox: "...You were always my favorite, Rex."

[actuallyastingray]

So, after my last Supa Strikas post, I decided to go ahead and make another personal takes. Watched a few more seasons and decided to make this one about the coaches. I will very much be making at least one more of these in the future.

Also, big, BIG shout-out to the Supablr community for the reception. You guys are awesome!

Vince: People simp over him and say he's 'fine AF'. Sorry ladies, but he's a bastard and I have standards when it comes to my men

Toni Vern: He's an irredeemable bastard AP college physics professor preaching to a bunch of frat boys, and then wonders why no one takes him at all seriously. I certainly don't

Inyo: Former Bond villainess/love interest. The only mysterious thing about her is how a British woman can pull off such a flawless American accent

Ura Giri: I imagine this would be Shredder in his late 70's. No matter how evil he is, after one too many encounters with ninja teenage superheroes, anyone remotely younger than you and semi-proficient in martial arts will have you walking on eggshells 24/7

Buddy Watkins: So this is how other countries stereotype America. It's okay guys, you don't have to be nice about it.

Del Aqua: In the same boat (Haha! get it?) as Coach in that he puts up with way too much daily shenanigans from his adopted charges. Is secretly glad his boys are surfers and stay out of the house, cause he is never caffeinated enough to deal with their nonsense otherwise.

Dr. Black: This guy uses billion-dollar NASA equipment to cheat at football games. I'm no rocket scientist but something just isn't adding up about this.

Colonel von Pushup: Acts super done with life but is really just super done with his dumbass kids. Isn't the best at dading coaching which is why he so often resorts to spying on the other dads coaches for ideas. Wishes Uber and Ja Nein would stop all their sexual tension infighting before someone takes notice

Belmont: His kids are perpetually dressed up as zombies, vampires, and werewolves and act the part in public too. Tell me with a straight face he doesn't have a legendary tolerance level that would make Coach jealous.

Golare: His kids are all grown up and independent, but he really, reeaaaaally wants to still be relevant in their lives

Sheikh Ali Zaman: Guys like this are why Americans hate Jeff Bezos

#supa strikas #supablr #personal take

[actuallyastingray]

I've fallen into, and in love, with the Supa Strikas fandom, so I decided to add this to the growing collection of posts. This is just my personal takes on the team after a few seasons. Might do more of these but IDK.

What I expected: FIFA 25

What I got: Family of adopted, dysfunctional man children and their Soccer Mom go on extended business trips all while dealing with the neighbors from hell.

Coach: Level 100 Soccer Mom just waiting to unleash his inner Karen. Probably encourages his kids to pick fights with old man Vince next door.

Dancing Rasta: 'Dad'cing Rasta indeed. Has to keep reminding mom Coach to take the kids team out for ice cream after they win a match. Someone needs to get this guy a 'Licensed to Grill' apron.

El Matador: Every cartoon has that same obnoxious, narcissistic, drama queen stereotype that never fails to get on my nerves. But not this one. This particular obnoxious, narcissistic, drama queen? This one is special.

Twisting Tiger: Chaotic middle child vibes. The writers missed a big opportunity to make him the SS resident troll.

Cool Joe: I'd make a joke about Cool Joe being "That Guy" who listens to Disney music while at work, but I'm pretty sure he actually has a workout track of Disney songs he brings to practice.

Big Bo: I saw this guy and immediately thought, "Oh wow, he must give AMAZING hugs"

Blok: Man of few words with amazing dance moves. Seriously, shame on the rest of the Strikas for hating on his music taste.

Klaus: Let's face it, we've all been Klaus at some point in our lives

North Shaw: Remember that one post about, "If you've been enemies for X long, you're no longer enemies, you're just gay but won't admit it"? That's North, except instead of kissing Liquido he's just gonna deck him.

Shakes: Shakes being Supa Strikas little brother is 100% of the reason to watch Rookie Season. I mean, it was painfully obvious before, but they don't even try to hide it.

#supa strikas #personal take #supablr

[actuallyastingray]

Okay let’s expand on an idea I told you guys about before because this would be so hilarious I would die.

Tag and Bink are found by Padme’s parents before they can escape to try and hitchhike back to Coruscant, her parents are like ‘oh god wtf’ and call up the Jedi. Yoda and Mace take one look at these baby trouble makers and goes ‘??? Idk???? Those look like yours???????’ And now Padme has two younger brothers. Tag and Bink’s new parents (and older sisters) are really nice and willing to put up with the dumbest antics with a *shakes head* ‘they’re a little… you know… not all there in the head’ and everyone is like ‘oh bless their hearts’ and thinks they’re cute.

One day a year into the clone wars, Padme’s mom needs to visit the inner rim and asks Tag and Bink if they wanna go to Coruscant to visit their old crechemates (they will be looked at super hard by the temple guards, before being given visitors passes that everyone is just pretending about and sent off to the creche playrooms to chill with their friends (Cal is devastated to have to see them again, and Reva, who is 8 rn, is like ‘owo how’d you get adopted like that???’ And it’s all delightful) but then they get brought back to the senate and left on the front door like ‘lol, have fun kids!’ And set off to find big sister Padme.

Padme gives them ice cream and the ensuing sugar rush causes destruction of an epic proportion that leads to the chancellor getting a painful concussion, which makes him confused and lash out, which makes every Jedi on the planet know he’s a Sith, and Padme just quietly ushers them away when her poor fellow Nabooian gets confused and thinks her sweet baby brothers are trying to hurt him, saying she’ll come check up on him when he’s feeling better.

Palpatine is arrested at that point and given extreme force suppression chemicals so he can’t hurt anyone ever again.

Tag and Bink are found in Dex’s diner when Dex shouts out ‘Order 66’ and three clones try to attack Kenobi and Anakin. Tag and Bink hit all three of them over the head with a frying pan and excitedly say this is like that time Jango tried to attack them in Dex’s diner too. Obi-Wan and Anakin are extremely concerned and bring Cody, Rex and Alpha back to the temple where the clone chips are found, and they start working on getting all clone chips removed.

Tag and Bink have had a very big day! They played with their friends! They had ice cream and made Palpatine trip down two flights of stairs! They outed a Sith! They went to lunch with Padme’s husband (whom they have never met before no not them they have never seen newly Knighted Skywalker before who says they have???) and had to save them from an attack!

It’s time to go back to Padme’s office for a long needed nap and call to their new mom to tell her about their big day.

[actuallyastingray]

Hey!! Just saw your WIP list and was wondering if we could get a peek at Arc training exhaustion 🥹🥹 bless ya

Picked one of the special ones, old but gold.

Alpha-17's been mopping the floor with their asses, but at least they'll get to call themselves ARCs later.

wip game