#with flying colors even

[front-facing-pokemon]

[dork-a-doodle]

So I may have accidentally pulled a Bee Movie-

[mossy-paws]

PHIGHTING! Mermaid au chibis

What silly little guys,,, decided to design scythe since yeah!

She’s based off of a olive head sea snake! And the rest y'all hopefully know by now :3

[wyvernity]

wip posting just to get something out there, and it's def a mixed bag!! the only thing more inconsistent than my posting schedule is my art style RIP

[moeblob]

son boy raccoon trash can man suffering in a dnd au as a cleric bc his warlock will not stop committing murders and he has to keep coming up with reasons murder is valid to convince the gm its fine and under control

[peniscat]

finally got my thesis grade so i will in fact be getting my master's degree next week <3

[articskele]

“Funny, the things you find out after you’re given a different perspective.”

A stimboard for @hatterofthelabyrinth!!

x|x|x x|x|x x|x|x

[nonasemporium]

points at how john interacts with, talks about, and even resurrected g1deon

points at how john engages with augustine in comparison to both g1deon and mercy (will get more into in just a second)

points at how ianthe sought power in her relationship to john by shifting to a more masculine presentation, when before she had a relatively feminine presentation

points at how john seems to take some extra joy out of both shaping alecto into the appearance of a white woman and also how he seems to feel a very specific facet of power in how he engages with mercy, who is also presumably a white woman

points at the concept that if pyrrha WAS a white woman there's a very specific exchange in how john perceives and engages with her relationship to g1deon

points at how cavaliers are repeatedly referred to, in some way, as largely darker in skin-tone than the necromancers AND how they're constantly described with/compared to beasts in some sense

points at how john is fixated on the roman empire and also catholocism

points at actual catholicism (and the history it has with race and colorism)

now.

is it hard to see how colorism is also a possible read into his character

[corellianhounds]

My Brother’s Keeper

TBB Body Swap AU

Chapter 3: Complications I

Words: 1.1k

Warnings: None

Summary: A glimpse at Crosshair’s point of view.

Crosshair seethes under the torch light. They’d been at it for what felt like hours now trying to find the right combination of steps to recreate the phenomena that had swapped their minds and bodies, but to no avail. Nothing besides the flickering, crystalline flames moved inside the temple, and the longer he was down there the more antsy he was becoming.

“Canteen?” Echo asked, offering one to Crosshair.

Crosshair smacked his hand away dismissively. “Has Sergeant “Always Be Aware of Your Surroundings” come up with anything better than the same song and dance we’ve been doing for the past hour? Nothing’s changed since we woke up.”

“Hunter couldn’t have predicted this, Crosshair, none of us could’ve.”

“He’s the one who trusted the word of a conwoman and suggested we go cave-diving for the allegedly stashed equipment.”

“No, he put it up to the group and you and I were out-voted. We knew coming here would be a gamble, and blaming him isn’t going to get us closer to solving this.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes with a Tch, his shoulders hunching even more. If Omega hadn’t been allowed to vote, they could have at least had a split vote and more justification to debate the veracity of their intel.

He glanced at Echo and shoved him away. Tried to, at least.

“Go babysit someone else,” Crosshair growled, shoving harder and standing up to pace around the edge of the cavern. “I don’t need your sympathy.”

Echo sighed but let him go, going back over to strategize with Hunter. Crosshair tightened his arms across his chest, shivering in the cool, damp air.

The first thing he’d noticed when he’d come to was the headache, followed by the jumbled mix of voices talking behind him. When he sat up he was still in the dark, but he had the distinct impression his sight line was thrown off, and it took longer for his eyes to adjust than they should have. Not only that, but the familiar weight of his rifle strapped to his back was gone.

Standing and whipping around to search for it proved more disorienting and alarming than anticipated; everything felt lighter and colder, his pack and his helmet and his armor nowhere to be found, and as he tried to get his bearings the conversations behind him finally started to register and the soft shift of hair against his face made his stomach plummet.

Crosshair dug the heels of his hands against his eyes, biting his tongue. He needed a stiff drink and an hour of silence before he felt like he could deal with anybody, both of which were unobtainable at the moment and one of which he just realized the others certainly wouldn't allow him to get away with right now. He sighed and tried to focus on long term strategy in case they couldn’t fix this tonight, but even the thought of having to spend an entire day like this turned his stomach to knots and made his chest feel tight.

So he tamped down the sense of total wrongness that bordered on nausea and complete mortification and turned back to clinical assessment.

Barely five feet tall, hair that kept getting in the way, a frame far too small and comparatively weak to do much. Omega wasn’t useless, but she was no soldier: Crosshair had gone over to yank her down and grab his rifle off his pack after the initial round table discussion started dying down, trying to lift it, but the weight and balance in his uncalloused hands was completely thrown off. He could make do with something lighter for the time being once they got back to the ship and he could go through the weapons locker, he just wouldn’t like it.

The thing that jarred him most right now was his voice. He wasn’t not speaking to the others just because he was frustrated and annoyed; hearing himself talk was so far the worst reminder of who and what he currently was. Omega may be a clone, but she…

Well. She. Even as a cadet he hadn’t sounded like this.

There were other obvious changes he refused to acknowledge at the moment but on the very small bright side of his assessment, his joints felt remarkably good and he didn’t have the stiff neck he came here with.

That last thought gave him a twinge of guilt, but he couldn’t think too long about Omega being in his head or he felt like he would throw up. If it had been any of the brothers, anyone else, he’d probably have been fine, but this…

No. They needed to fix this. No later, no tomorrow, no next week, now. Nothing less than an immediate resolution.

By the depths, he needed a drink.

“Crosshair?”

Crosshair grimaced, looking over his shoulder at what shouldn’t have felt like an unfamiliar sight. Despite their squad’s enhancements and defects, they were all still clones of the same person. His own face shouldn’t have made that apprehension and disdain at the edge of his thoughts rear its ugly head, but here he was.

“What do you want?”

Omega no longer looked as stricken as she’d been when they’d encountered each other after the change, but the unsure hesitance playing out over his face now was just embarrassing.

“Tech thinks the room itself shifted when we switched,” she says. “The runes aren’t the same as when we came in. He says they’re flipped, like in a mirror. We’re looking for a lever or a sensor or something to activate the rings and get them to flip back over.”

“Why didn’t he catch that sooner?” Crosshair grumbled, following her.

Omega didn’t respond at first, and the silence made his eyes narrow.

“… He thinks his memory isn’t the same as it was in his body,” she says quietly. “Used to, he could see a snapshot of everything archived in his head, but- but Echo’s mind isn’t the same as his. He’s still smart but… But he doesn’t have everything.”

Crosshair looked back to “Echo” methodically searching every crevice and nook for a latch or release or pressure plate. The screwed-up look of concentration was far more concerned than Tech’s earlier objective curiosity, the muscle in his jaw ticking, and that alarmed Crosshair more than anything. Tech didn’t like not having answers, and the realization that he may now be unable to acquire answers the way he was used to was jarring even to Crosshair.

“… Go check the archway,” Crosshair muttered uneasily. “I’ll cover this side.”

< Previous chapter

Next chapter >

[phopollo]

I'm not sure if maybe I'm just unlucky here, or maybe there's like.... something wrong with a larger system?

But why have I taken 5 Spanish classes and only managed to learn anything in one of them? And why is the college class the one I've learned the least in?

[front-facing-pokemon]

[novelconcepts]

the truly problematic thing about having insanely vivid dreams just about every night--and i mean the kind of vivid where you remember details days or even weeks later, like it's just another normal-ass memory--is that you wind up losing track on an emotional level of what's real. like. i know that was a dream. obviously it was a dream. but some part of my brain misses it like it really happened. i am painfully, achingly nostalgic for people i've never met, places i've never been, shit that literally could not ever happen--but i feel as though i remember. which is just the most unhinged thing, right? like, i remember going on a run that took me over a fence into Disneyland, and i remember having to take a shortcut through a Chinese restaurant, but it was fine, because Erika Ishii was there, and they'd done this before, so no worries. right? no! obviously not! why do i remember this with such visceral clarity three weeks later?

oh, what's your favorite episode of this TV show? the one i dreamt. yeah, don't worry about it, it didn't make coherent sense, but it was in the feelings, right? my ship had the best fucking scene. no, of course i can't explain it to you, that's madness. it involved a rocking chair. don't worry about it. it's fine. it's super important i don't accidentally reference this in a fic someday, though.

this shit is deranged, dude. missing people who are quite literally my own brain's invention with an actor's face. missing places that are a meld of a movie i saw once, my childhood bedroom, the second floor of my high school, and inter-dimensional space. like. no! no, this shouldn't be a thing! is, though. the clarity of it. just fucking bananas. this has been happening to me my whole goddamn life.

[zeb-z]

the fact that during the entire plot of Alliances, Che’ri, a ten year old girl, is the pilot waiting as Thrawn and Anakin work to outcrazy the other, is something so hysterical

[majiburger]

everything sucks so bad i'm afraid

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

At this moment of reminiscense, Dorian and Elizabeth's eyes met, and their smiles mirrored one another as Elizabeth commented off-handedly:

"I think I'm beginning to understand that feeling."

Walking behind the two younger couples, unable to resist cooing over her sleeping granddaughter just as her mother was, June caught little snatches of the conversation, with certain remarks just happening to make her ears prick up a little more, though she never let her face show what she was thinking and feeling, to say nothing of refusing to give voice to these thoughts. As she had told Lon earlier in the month, she had her theories, but at the end of the day, whatever was on Dorian and Elizabeth Gracey's mind was theirs to announce, and she certainly wasn't going to impede upon that.

At the very least, when the party had made it back to the attic, and Randall and Emily quietly took the twins to their room for a nap, she took Elizabeth aside for a moment, venturing to say, choosing her words carefully, "Well, if you do ever feel sick again, if any nausea or soreness pops up again...please, don't hesitate to come to me. I'd like to help in any way I can."

Elizabeth studied June's face for a moment, remaining calm upon this suggestion being put to her-the matriarch's face was just as calm as her own, and there was a gentle sincerity in the way she smiled at her, to say nothing of something of a mischievous twinkle to her eye, a sort of subtle, knowing look that reminded Elizabeth of her own mother, and the looks she would give her one and only daughter when she knew something was afoot.

But even with that look, the mistress of Gracey Manor knew Mrs. June Pace was a woman she could trust, and so she flashed her an appreciative smile, saying, "If anything comes up, I'll be sure to look to you first. Thank you, June."

"Think nothing of it, Elizabeth."

[e-louise-bates]

I am getting to take an unexpected trip in just under two weeks which involves flying (husband was asked last minute if he could go to this work conference, and I asked if I could come along and take it as a writing retreat), and instead of panicking over what I can take for clothes, I am panicking over oh no, the story that I am planning on writing while there involves my fountain pen with bottled ink, I am going to have to get ink cartridges for it instead because I am NOT taking bottled ink on the plane, and uh-oh, I need some new yarn because my current knitting project is too bulky for the plane but the project I'd like to start I don't have yarn for yet.

Clothes will be fine, but making sure I can get ink cartridges for my fountain pen in the right color, that's top priority, folks.