#mainly the timeline..

[elsannej]

Guy, age 21, studying for his first ever special ed class (circa 2008)

Guy "teacher student" Gardner posting

AKA me projecting my entire educational journey on him at this point

[emthimofnight]

My dear friend @einelitas wanted me to take a crack at designing a silvaze fankid, and here she is!!! 🥰 Serene is a quiet, polite, and intelligent person, but she struggles to make friends. She has immense telekinetic power, just like her dad!

[2randomfishperson]

Twisted Wonderland OC (RSA first year)

(artist note)/OC background I guess

Okay, I don't know how to start this, so I am just going to make a list of some of these character traits, themes, and whatnot. Also while these OCs are like YEARS OLDs, they do not have names because I am bad at naming characters, so we will use numbers. (If you want to give a name suggestion I am fine with that).

(Ellis)Alice Inspired: High introvert/jokester energy, speak his mind. Enjoying the chaos in general because it is fun. His Unique Magic allows him to make snacks and drinks that can change the size of whoever eats them. What that size is part of the fun.

Aladdin inspired: Smart and cunning but also very mischievous to people who do him wrong. Is a magicless thief from Scalding Sands (the same one in the Jamil Home-Town event). When he was caught stealing, he found a magic lamp in prison and wished to go to Arcane Academy as a mage. Also, the monkey has been his closest companion ever since childhood.

Hercules inspired: courageous and dependable friend. He have an abnormal amount of magical power since a young age, resulting in him causing a lot of trouble to his family and being isolated from people his age. However, it turns out that he is the child of the Olympic Corp's current head as a result of an affair. This resulted in him being sent to RSA to gain training to possibly become the future heir. Although he is still unsure about it, he does want to train his magical ability to not hurt others but rather be a hero. His unique magic give him a few minutes of invincible as well as increases strength.

(Axton) Arthur inspired: A shy and very low self-esteem kid, who was personality invited to RSA by the head mage of RSA. He is someone who does want to get stronger, but at the same time, he believes he is someone with no worth. (Ambrose the 63rd plan to make the kid his successor as head of RSA)

(Zhu Yulan) Mulan Inspired: Serious, smart, and very tactical. They are a girl. Her family runs some form of magic martial arts/business/class (I haven't decided) with her dad as the head current. However, by law you are required to have a magic diplomate from Arcane Academy to be able to run the establishment and her father is planning to retire. She hasn't received any letter from any of the female Arcane Academy but she found a letter that was meant for her father from RSA a year ago. So she went across as a boy under her father's name to enter RSA.

If free to ask question if you want. (note the design and story could change)

(update: 5/31/25)

[lobotomize-d]

Butter roll cookie if... if he was.... uh. . . Student at the Parfedia Academy ...

[vineboom-sfx]

Back agin with my Almeda Mall au, colored this time!!

[aza-trash-can]

I think it's infinitely funny if Dick changes his suit after every traumatic event/series of events. Something horrible happens to him, and he just says "hold on, gotta change my outfit." Consider:

Becomes Robin after his parents die

Becomes Nightwing (Discowing) after getting shot and having a monumental falling-out with Bruce

Changes Nightwing suit to black suit with blue emblem (à la Young Justice Cartoon S2) after The Worst Year™ (minimum of Jason dying, other events to be added as you headcanon)

Changes Nightwing suit again after the Bruce Time Stream Incident™ to include the arm stripes

If I were to get a little more into it, though, I think the suit changes (more so the later ones into/as Nightwing) could be a way for him to put distance between himself and the traumatic event. It's a way for him to leave that 'era' of his life behind and try to rebuild himself away from it by physically ditching a symbol of that time and wearing something new

[turtleblogatlast]

I am once again overcome by the sheer magnitude of pranks Mikey and Leo could commit on the world of archaeology through their combined abilities of time and space

With enough time for Mikey in particular to be strong enough to make a small time portal - again within Leo’s portal opened in Someplace, Somewhere - they could plant so much shit just to mess with historians.

Like - Mikey wanted to try painting Greek-style pottery and Leo is like “hey hey wait…”

And now there is newly discovered evidence of Greek depictions of humanoid turtles laying around.

[navy-leader]

Decided to call this AU Heaven's Underpass so thatll b the tag i use 2 include these designs in 👍

[jash-updates]

Most normal energy drink consumer

[basedonconjecture]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @mythals-whore & @seaglassmelody 🫶

adding gentle tags for @introvertedfangrl, @propenseverbosity, and @kindlyfeline if y’all have anything you want to show offf

I thought I didn’t have anything I could share this week but then I remembered I started this for a Thursday Banger prompt that I did not finish in time. It’s from the post-canon timeline so it might (eventually) still make an appearance in some fashion :)

At this time of night, the upper stories of the Diamond were more crowded than usual, but if Lucanis Dellamorte noticed the wide berth he was given as he moved swiftly up the curving staircase, he made no mention of it. His cousin, however, was swearing colorfully under his breath behind him.

"Lucanis—" Illario tried only to receive a murderous glare for his effort.

Lucanis didn't wait to see the other man throw up his hands as he reeled back a step, his own fists clenching and releasing at his sides in an effort to control the rage threatening to sear right through his skin. There was an undercurrent of cold fear tempering it—but only just. He wasn't even entirely sure who he was angrier at: Rook, or Viago for putting her back to work.

It had only been three days—

A fledgling scurried out of his path as he turned a corner, a prickle of guilt scratching at his conscience as he watched them flee out of his peripherals. His feet carried him almost entirely on their own, the mental mapping of the casino guiding him from beneath the tempest of his thoughts, as they oscillated between visions of Rook dead or dying, and snippets of their last conversation.

Argument, rather.

Regrettably.

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

listening to the orchestra version of Chikai on loop to tear my heart asunder

[mezzmerizd]

so funny thing that happened on twitter-

and erm, i got some help and feedback from more knowledgeable people (@leoincaps) soooo-

Young Emo Tango & Scene Skizz respectively :3

[dol-dee]

Emotional Support Orphan / context

[dragonselkie]

how can you be excited for something and dread it at the same time (link click yingdu chapter this winter)

[doom-dreaming]

High Flakes Combat

“Blue Lead,” Linda’s whisper cuts across TEAMCOM, crisp and several degrees colder than the icy landscape. “Hostiles approaching your position.”

Fred, tucked behind the trunk of a towering pine tree, exhales a slow, measured breath. Waiting. Listening. Without his motion tracker, only the crunch of footsteps in the snow—and Linda—could tell him when their opponents were closing in.

There. Fifteen meters out. He motions to John, positioned behind an adjacent tree. On my signal.

…ten meters…

Cover me. Go high.

…five meters…

John nods. Fred tightens his grip on his weapon.

Now.

As one, they pivot, breaching cover. Fred drops to a knee, attacking swiftly, before their adversary has a chance to retaliate.

The snowball hits Ash directly in the center of his chestplate. Active camouflage flickers briefly, then recalibrates, as the young Spartan crashes dramatically to his knees before sprawling backward, motionless.

Fred doesn’t let the theatrics distract him. The other two had to be nearby and the round wasn’t over until— A snowball whizzes past his head, followed by a sharp curse—out loud, close. He catches a shimmer of white on white as Olivia leaps to find cover and “reload,” but John is faster.

The snowball hits her thigh before she can complete her maneuver and she slides to a dejected halt in a snowbank. “Dammit! Mark!” she calls out. “You’re on your own!”

Fred doesn’t hear a verbal response. He knows he won’t, Mark’s too good to give away his position— Thwap. Fred’s vision goes fuzzy and white as Mark’s snowball connects with his visor, splattering on impact. Fred groans and flashes a red status light across his team’s HUDs. He’d be out until the next round.

“He’s on the move!” Linda barks over the comms.

Fred folds himself cross-legged into the snow and wipes his visor clean just in time to see Kelly bounding over a nearby ridge, clutching a snowball in each fist.

“I’ve got him!” She goes streaking across the snow toward a barely-visible figure—also sprinting.

Mark wouldn’t be able to outrun Kelly—a fact Fred knew the S-III was well aware of—but he was certainly trying his best.

Kelly nails Mark with both snowballs, one in the shoulder, the other in the back. He stumbles just enough that Kelly’s momentum sends her into him at full force. The clack of their colliding armor echoes like a shot as both Spartans go tumbling to the ground, sending up a minor flurry in their wake.

“Aaaaaaaand match!” Roland’s voice rings out over the simulation deck, followed by a buzzer. “Blue Team takes the win!”

“Again,” Olivia grumbles, pushing to her feet and dusting snow off her armor.

“It’s three against four,” Ash reminds her, still lying on his back a few feet from Fred.

Olivia crunches her way over and offers him a hand. “Can we make Kelly sit out the next round?”

“If you’re not having fun, leave,” John quips.

“Or maybe you should switch Kelly to our team and see how it feels,” Livi bites back, helping Ash haul himself to his feet.

“Fighting over me?” Kelly rejoins the group with Mark close behind. “I’m flattered.”

Fred chuckles. It was good to see Olivia trading barbs with John. The Gammas had warmed up to him quickly—and he to them—and it wasn’t hard to understand why. Fred was sure the S-IIIs had given him some new streaks of gray hair, but at the same time, they made him feel younger. He hoped they were having the same effect on John.

“So…” drawls a familiar voice, raised just loud enough to carry, “this is the reason my fireteams can't train today? A snowball fight.”

Every Spartan in the simulated snowscape whips toward the entrance. Commander Palmer stands at the far edge of the scene, arms crossed. She looks odd and out of place, a lone figure in a techsuit against the stark white surroundings, but no less intense than usual.

“Thought we’d try something different from the typical drills, ma’am,” Fred coughs. He’s not sure why he feels guilty; they’d requested the time and blocked out the schedule and followed protocol…even if they hadn’t said precisely what they’d be doing…

Before anyone else has a chance to speak, a snowball goes sailing over Fred’s shoulder, on a collision course for Palmer. She’s too far away to hit, but the aim is dead-accurate and it lands with a wet plap several yards directly in front of her.

Even at this distance, Fred sees her eyes narrow. The vague guilt solidifying in his gut crystallizes into ice. He knows who threw that and he’s already, reflexively, preparing for the necessary damage control—and for Linda, no less. Kelly he was used to, but Linda?

Palmer shifts her weight and fixes the seven of them with a hard stare that lasts long past the point of being uncomfortable. “Don’t go anywhere,” she eventually orders, leveling a finger in their direction. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Without leaving any opportunity for rebuttal, she turns on her heel and swiftly disappears from the deck.

Immediately, Linda’s status light starts blinking rapid-fire green across Blue Team’s HUDs. Kelly follows suit.

“Really?” Fred grumps over TEAMCOM.

“Can you blame her if it worked?” Kelly retorts.

“Yes! You’re making an assumption and setting a bad example.” He switches to his helmet’s speakers. “Gammas, don’t throw things at your commanding officers.”

“Unless you’re sleeping with them,” Kelly adds, with enough tact to keep the comment on Blue Team’s private channel.

Another green light from Linda.

Fred willfully ignores both of them.

“...we’re not in trouble, are we?” Ash removes his helmet and shakes out his hair. “To be honest…I don’t know what just happened.”

Kelly seats herself on a tree stump, legs akimbo, smugness oozing from every seam of her armor. “Palmer’s getting suited up to come play with us.”

Ash seems unconvinced but Mark shrugs. “She’ll balance the numbers. We might even start winning.”

Only Blue Team can see—and appreciate—the red light John flashes in silent response.

**********

As threatened, Palmer returns exactly ten minutes later, fully armored aside from the helmet tucked into the crook of her arm. “Okay, here’s the official story.” She strides up to the group. “We’re running an unorthodox but fully sanctioned training exercise all day.”

“I’ve cleared the schedule and put out an open invitation,” Roland chimes in. “As requested.”

Palmer nods her approval. “Figured I’d let you have your fun on the condition that the rest of us could get in on it too.” She raises an eyebrow. “Sound fair?”

“Fair enough,” Fred answers, echoing the array of green lights on his HUD. “Alright. Ground rules—we’re running blind for this, Commander. No motion trackers.”

She looks pleased. “I like a challenge.”

“If you get hit, you’re out for the round,” he continues. “Once you’re out, you can’t help anyone still standing. Round ends when a whole team goes down.” Fred nods toward the ceiling. “Roland’s keeping score.”

“Huh,” Palmer hums. “So you knew about this, too, Roland?”

“I…was informed the exercise would require a scorekeeper instead of a handler,” the AI answers, somehow managing to achieve the verbal equivalent of tip-toeing. “And I volunteered a mere fraction of my copious attention to the task.”

Palmer just rolls her eyes.

Ash clears his throat and steps forward. “If you wouldn’t mind, ma’am, we’d greatly appreciate it if you joined our team.”

“They’ve been wiping the floor with us,” Olivia adds, somewhat ruefully.

Palmer looks back and forth between Blue Team and the Gammas with a hint of a smirk. “Well.” She slips her helmet on. “Allow me to level the playing field.”

**********

And indeed, the tide began to turn. Quickly. It wasn’t that the Gammas couldn’t hold their own, but Palmer was a different flavor of ruthless and even numbers did make a difference.

Kelly, as Blue Team’s sole survivor, was in the midst of a valiant stand, but she was up against Palmer and Olivia and they were going in for the kill. Up to this point, Kelly had been relying on her speed to evade them, but Fred doubted that would be able to carry her any further.

Palmer and Livi split around the back of the snowbank Kelly had hidden behind, falling into synchronized step with each other, timing their paces perfectly. Palmer’s boots fall heavier and louder, covering Olivia’s near-silent glide around the other side.

The strategy is obvious, at least from Fred’s position of passive observation—Palmer would draw Kelly’s attention, Olivia would come up on her flank and take her out. And it would work, too…on anyone less observant than Kelly. Fred has a feeling she’ll see right through it. But one of them was going to hit her either way, so it didn’t really matter as far as the outcome was concerned.

Surprisingly, a third option presents itself. Fred realizes after a few seconds that he’s been holding his breath, expecting Kelly to explode out of the snow and make a run for it, but…she doesn’t.

Palmer reaches the other side of the snowdrift and slows, confusion evident in her body language. She paces around the area, making sure not to stay still for too long, obviously reluctant to let her guard down completely. Fred can see the hazy mirage of Olivia’s SPI suit still moving in with careful deliberation.

There was no way Kelly could have moved. She hadn’t had enough time. More importantly, she would’ve been spotted if she’d tried to flee, so why couldn’t—

Palmer disappears. One second, she’s standing on the other side of the snowbank, visible from the waist up, and the next second she’s gone. Fred can’t see much of anything, but there are sounds of a scuffle and the blur of camouflaged armor as Livi sweeps in to assist with whatever the hell had just happened.

Barely a breath later, Roland announces the end of the match. “And Gammas-Plus-Palmer emerge victorious! …or should I say Olivia, specifically, seeing as she is the last Spartan standing. You know, you really oughta come up with a better name for your team—”

There’s a burst of indignant exclamations and flustered cursing from Palmer. She reappears only to rip her helmet off and kick some snow back in the direction from which she’d escaped.

Olivia removes her own helmet; Fred is surprised to see her laughing. “She got you good!” There’s a giddiness in her voice that Fred’s never heard before, but she seems to remember who she's talking to a moment later. “...ma’am.”

Kelly pops up beyond the ridge. She remains helmeted but Fred knows there’s a shit-eating grin on her face just from her posture alone.

“What happened?” He shouts the question out loud.

“She buried herself in the fucking snow and pulled my legs out from under me,” Palmer growls as she trudges over.

“And then I hit Kelly point-blank in the face!”

Olivia’s gleeful comment is backed by Kelly’s laughter over TEAMCOM. “Worth it.”

“Hey!” A different voice cuts into the conversation, once again pulling everyone’s attention toward the entrance. “Heard there was some kinda free-for-all goin’ on in here?” Gabriel Thorne stands flanked by the rest of Fireteam Majestic, all in full Mjolnir. “Got room for another team?”

Palmer waves them in. “Come on up, Majestic. We’ll get you briefed on the rules.” She sighs and fits her helmet back on. “Hope you’re ready to get your asses kicked.”

**********

An hour later, after Majestic had carved out a few victories of their own, Crimson shows up. Rules are recounted, home bases are realigned, play resumes. Within another two hours, there are four more Spartan fireteams on the field. Alliances are formed, both openly and secretly. Several hours are devoted to building snow forts. Play evolves. Forts are defended and captured, sabotaged and reinforced.

And then Lasky arrives.

“Captain on deck!” Roland bellows.

The silence that blankets the simulation deck is instantaneous and absolute. Nobody moves. If the snowballs already in flight could have frozen in midair, they probably would’ve. Instead, they land in a chorus of muffled thwumps.

Lasky stands there for a few seconds, small and unimposing by the distant doors, sporting his trademark expression of beleaguered amusement—presumably at being called out. “Don’t stop on my account,” he eventually says. “I just wanted to watch. …unless there’s a team looking for a liability,” he jokes with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Everyone on the field exchanges glances and shrugs. A sea of status lights blink across Fred’s HUD—most amber, some green. Finally, someone from Crimson waves Lasky over. “We’ll take you, Captain!”

He seems genuinely surprised by the invitation, but begins the trek across the snow. “Try not to kill me, alright?”

That draws laughs from most of the Spartans, but it’s John who actually banters back. “No promises, sir.”

[jaydraw209]

Recent Headcanon:

Kuai Liang's past name, Tundra, was something that was known only by the Lin Kuei, so someone calls him that name, they're connected to the Lin Kuei or they learned about it from someone from the Lin Kuei.