#everything is written by hand

[blood-mocha-latte]

wip tag game

tagged by the incredibly kind @fidelias <3

RULES: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

this was ridiculously confusing to figure out because i was like wait. the last sentence i WROTE or the last sentence that i put into the wretched computer. in the end i went with Wrote, so have something for the Untitled Mota Fic ;)

“You feel, sweetheart. There’s nothing wrong with that. You’ll always just be the person who loves more.” John feels the corners of his mouth hook down, like he’s a marionette, controlled by a puppeteer, like he’ll start to cry. He doesn’t. He won’t. “I don’t want to be.” He whispers to his skinned knees. “That doesn’t matter.” His mother soothes, and it’s not comforting in the slightest. “God chose for you.”

not tagging anyone because i think y'all've been tagged already, so the floor's open to anyone <3

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two (You are Here) / Part Three 

A03

Hopper had undersold Harrington's condition. 

Wayne hadn't expected anything pretty, but the face that turned to them as they walked through the door almost had him freezing in place. 

Black eye, bruised chin, split lip. 

More and more bruises, some faded and some very new, trailing down the kids neck. 

 The rest was hidden by his preppy little polo shirt, but Wayne didn't doubt that there were more.

Harrington tried to stand when they entered the room and the way he moved--entirely unbalanced, clearly in a lot of pain--made Wayne think the only thing the kid really needed was a hospital. 

Because Steve Harrington hadn't just been beaten. 

He'd been tortured--and very recently strangled. 

(Abruptly, Wayne realized that Hopper had implied the boy had been in the mall fire--just as much as he implied the mall fire was anything but. 

He also hadn't stated how Harrington had escaped the Suites trying to break into his house.) 

"Sit down." Hopper commanded, and Wayne expected Harrington to do anything but listen. 

Say something cocky, or act the part of a demanding little shit maybe, despite the condition he was in.

Instead the kid just sighed in relief and dropped like a stone, right back into the chair. 

Hopper came around his desk, talking all the while. "Steve, this is Wayne. Wayne, Steve."

"Hello Sir." Steve croaked politely. His voice was wrecked, no doubt from the necklace of finger shaped bruises around his neck.

"You're going to stay with him for a while, and you're gonna pay him for the privilege." Hopper informed him, as he began digging around his desk. "Money, chores, whatever Wayne wants." 

Wayne held his gaze as Steve turned to appraise him. 

Would Harrington pitch a fit? 

Would he look at Wayne's work clothes, streaked with dirt and sweat, with the name of the warehouse embroidered in the corner and crinkle up his nose, just like his daddy did? 

Hopper didn't lie, but a part of Wayne wanted to see just how different this Harrington was. If the respectful demeanor was an act done for Hopper. 

Or perhaps, Hopper had mentioned Steve's father for a reason, instead of his mother. Did he adopt her ice-like approach to life? 

Micro managing and long-held grudges were Stella Harrington’s game, and she excelled at it. 

Steve however, did nothing of the sort, instead settling with the situation in a way that reminded Wayne far too strongly of the men and women who'd come home from war.

"Okay." The kid said simply, after a long moment of consideration. He turned back to Hopper. "But we need to tell the rest of the Par--" 

Here he cut a look back to Wayne, correcting himself. "the kids. I don't want them showing up at my house trying to find me and freaking out." 

"They wouldn't--" Jim paused, fingers freezing from the rummaging they'd been doing. "they absolutely would, goddammit." He muttered darkly.  

"I'll tell the kids. The only thing I want you doing right now is laying low. I need to get a hold of Owens, but it's gonna take time to do that, and more time to fix this, so as of right now, Harrington? You're on vacation." He pointed sternly, as if Steve might argue.

The kid looked too tired and messed up to bother trying. 

"I mean it. You're out of the country, where is anybody's guess. No one's seen you and no one better be seeing you, got it?" His voice held firm, and Wayne had to blink because the tone here wasn't one of a police chief warning a teenager--but of a father talking to his son.

He knew, because his own voice did that now. Took on a worried tone that masqueraded as something more like annoyance and seriousness. 

"Yes, Sir." Harrington said, remaining weirdly compliant. "Consider me gone." 

A hand came up to briefly press above one eye, and Wayne wondered if the kid had been looked over, or if they had just crammed him into Hopper's office without offering so much as a tissue box. 

How many painkillers did they have back at the house? Wayne usually kept a good bottle around, but Steve was going to need more than that…

He found himself once again cataloging Steve's wounds, this time comparing them to the medicine cabinet he had at home. 

"I expect you to be a damn good house guest, you hear me?" Hopper continued, trying to cut a menacing figure. He finally found what he was looking for; pulling out a large, padded envelope. 

He handed it over to Harrington, who took it without looking, shoving it into the duffle bag he'd had sitting at his feet. 

There was a smudge of red on the handle of said bag, that matched perfectly up to a shittily done wrap on Steve's right hand. 

Wayne mentally added 'buy more bandages' to his list. 

Steve nodded at Hopper again. "Yes, Sir."

Jim’s eyes narrowed. "Quite that, you know I hate that." 

The briefest glimmer of mischief crossed Harrington's face. "Sorry, Sir. Won't happen again, Sir."

'Ahh.' Wayne thought. 'So there's a teenager in there after all.'

Jim rolled his eyes. "Get out of my office."

"Thanks Hop." Harrington said, finally dropping that odd obedience, a hint of a smile on his battered face. 

He stood, and Wayne had to stop himself from offering an arm out as Steve reached for his bag and limped towards him. 

He paused right before he left Hopper's office, hand on the doorframe.

 "You'll check up on Robin too, right?"  He asked, and for the first time his tone took on something more alive--and filled with worry. "And Dustin? Erica?" 

"Dustin and his mom are finally taking me up on my suggestion to see their family in Florida for a while, and the Sinclairs are taking a sabbatical from Hawkins. I'm working on the Buckley's." Hopper drummed his fingers on the desk. "So far, no one else besides you and El have been targeted, and we're going to keep it that way."

Steve let out a breath, and while Wayne could tell the worry hadn't left him, he could almost physically see Steve force himself to put it away.

Another act that was far beyond the kid's years. 

A different officer popped up as they walked down the hall towards the exit, waving his hand madly. "Harrington! Chief says you forgot this!" He barked.

(Or tried to anyway. Callahan wasn’t the most aggressive of officers and frankly, never would be.)

A slim sports bag was held in his hands, and Steve nearly tripped over his own feet when he tried to turn and claim it.

"I'll get it." Wayne said, knowing his tone sounded gruff.

No use for it. He could either sound gruff or sound sad, and Wayne knew better than to start off the relationship with yet another hurt young man by acting sad.

Pity wasn't gonna win him any favors here. 

He took the bag, slinging it over his shoulder, uncaring of the wince on Harrington's face until something sharp poked at his shoulder. 

Several somethings, in fact. 

"What the hell do you got in this thing?" He asked once they hit the parking lot, voice low as he escorted Steve to his truck. 

"Just a baseball bat, sir." Steve said, in the exact same tone Eddie used every time he thought he was bein’ slick. 

Considering the thing in the bag could have passed for a baseball bat if not for the sharp pokey bits, it wasn’t a bad attempt. Steve just hadn’t accounted for the fact that Wayne lived with Eddie. 

An unfair advantage, really. 

‘Least there can’t be any baby racoons in the damn bag.’ Wayne thought idly. 

Went on to gently put the bat in the backseat, watching as the kid struggled to lift himself into the truck.

"You can drop that, I take too being called Sir about as well as Hop does." He said, keeping his tone nice and calm, hoping to ease into calling Steve out on his lie. 

Fussed with a few dials on the stereo, giving Steve an excuse to take his time before starting the engine and taking the long way home.

Wayne wanted to talk a little-- without the chance of Ed’s interrupting. 

"Son,” He started off. “I was born in the morning, but not this morning. I'm hoping to make the next few weeks as easy as I can for both of us, and I can't do that if you're starting off with a lie." 

Steve blinked, turning to face him in a matter that was too fast for his injuries. He didn't bother hiding the hurt it caused him, but his voice stayed even as he spoke.

 "What do you mean Si--Wayne." 

"Nice catch.”  Wayne said. “We’ll get you there yet.” 

It was a trick he'd learned with Eddie--little tidbits of praise went a long way when it came to gaining trust.

Especially with kids who hadn't ever been given much. 

Harrington seemed smart to it, or perhaps was just hesitant to speak in general because he remained quiet, not offering up any info. No further lies, but nothing towards the truth, neither. 

Which was fine. Wayne didn’t think a little pushing would hurt.

"That bat of yours was digging into my shoulder like a bee swarm." Wayne continued, when it became clear Steve wasn't talking. "I'm more a fan of football than baseball, but last I checked they hadn't changed the design of a bat." 

"What teams?" Steve asked, perking up a touch. "Of football. Which ones are yours?"

Wayne could ignore it of course, or demand Steve give him an answer to the question he asked. 

He did neither. "I’m liking the Colts since they got moved here. You?" 

"Green Bay Packers, though I like the Colts too--that trade in 84’ was crazy." Steve said. After a second he proved that answering instead of pushing was the right move because he added; "What did Hopper tell you? About…" He trailed off, making a gesture Wayne didn't bother trying to interpret. 

"He said some things. I've guessed a few others." Wayne admitted. Cut a little look out of the corner of his eye as he came to a stop sign. "I know the feds are real interested in you after Starcourt." 

Steve took that in, hands tightening on the handle. 

"It really is a baseball bat." He said, a little fast and with the tiniest hint of that challenge Wayne had been looking for. "It just also has nails hammered into one end." 

Wayne took that in with one nice, slow blink. 

"A bat with nails in it." He said, and it made a hell of a lot of sense compared to the sensation he'd felt carrying the case. "You use it against anyone?" 

"Some of the feds." Steve admitted, and even with his eyes on the road Wayne could tell he was being stared at.

Judged.

Not in the way one expected a rich kid to judge, but in the way Eddie had, those first few months he'd lived here. The times when  he'd push, just a little, to see what Wayne's reaction would be. 

Eddie hadn't done it in a damn long time, but Wayne recognized the behavior nonetheless. 

"Anybody else?" He asked. 

"Nobody human." Steve replied. 

"Alright." Wayne said, and made a mental note to drop all questions related to that. 

He didn't need to know, definitely didn't want to know, and had a feeling if he did know he'd find himself being watched by the same spooks after Steve.

"I've got a few deck boxes that lock on my porch. Think you'd be agreeable to leaving the bat in one?" 

Steve paused, hand clenching tighter around the strap of his duffel bag. "If you gave me a key so I could get it in an emergency,  I'd be happy to." 

He tried to sound calm, even a little charming in that sort of upper-class businessman sort of way, but the fear bled through. 

The kid wasn't happy separating from the bat, and given it sounded like it might have saved his life recently, Wayne understood the hesitation. 

With an internal apology to Eddie, he promptly threw his nephew under the proverbial bus.  "I've got my nephew at home and he'd be far too interested in it, is all. Blades and weapons and such tend to attract him, and I don't need to be rushing anyone to the ER." 

All of which were very true facts (one Wayne learned the time he'd allowed Eddie to bring a sword  home, only for him to nearly cut his own nose off winging the thing around) but he figured it might make Steve more amenable to separating from it. 

Sure enough, some of the tenseness bled out of Steve's shoulders. "Yeah that's fair." 

The truck hit a few potholes as they finally turned into the trailer park, and the kid hissed, a quiet sound. 

Judging by the uncomfortable wince, and hands clenched into his jeans something painwise was giving him trouble. 

"When was the last time you took a pain pill?" Wayne asked, doing his best to weave around the other holes that dotted the gravel roads.

Steve blinked. "Uh…" 

"You take any today son?" 

Steve his head. 

"Didn't have time to grab it." He said, offering a sad look to his pack. 

Course he hadn't. 

"Let's get you inside then and get you some." Wayne said with a sigh. Thankfully Eddie's van wasn't here--Wayne was fairly certain he had band practice today but knowing him it could be a million other things.

Just meant he had to acclimate Steve as fast as he could, to try and get the poor guy settled before Ed’s came in. 

He just hoped life and lady luck would work with him, for once. 

[transmasccofee]

honestly one of my fav things that isn’t ever talked about with Kusuo is that he is honestly when you actually examine him, a pretty normal teenager. He’s insecure, he cares a lot about his mom and is scared of making her mad, he gets invested in other peoples drama, he dislikes PE, he hates being spoiled for things, he has an embarrassing crush that his friends judge him for, he has an awkward relationship with his dad and fights with his brother, he wants to be protected.

Like underneath all the unfamiliar stuff, he is honestly Just Some Guy.

[toskarin]

glass houses and all, I've made bad deals in my time and I've failed to consult IP lawyers in cases where I probably should have, but putting your entire codebase up as collateral on a loan that you're paying more or less entirely through someone else's charity feels like it really shouldn't be fucking Plan A

[shiongenkai]

On this night I am thinking about Haru Sagara and how he is consistently putting others' needs in front of his own. And how, though he plays stupid and plays the overbearing captain, when given the choice between self-preservation or saving others he will always, without any question, choose to save others.

It's really sad in a sense to see this trend happening over and over. Like... he's burdened with someone else's debt and he deals with it himself with a fairly reasonable amount of griping. He takes over a park he doesn't know the operation of and teaches himself to do it by himself, because there's nobody else to rely on like general students (and, generally, Towa seems to be a free-spirit, and Haru encourages it!).

He frequently ignores his own health in order to give the anomalous animals the best lives he can in the park too. He remarks about getting bitten a ton, he obviously deals with upset anomalies frequently, he sacrifices AC on the off chance an anomaly may wander into the dorm... I think something that sticks out to me is that, when he wakes up from his tetanus coma, the janitor reprimands him for another ignored injury. And it's true! We see him get injured and subsequently ignore it a Lot! Or we see him put himself in positions to be injured for the sake of other people.

In Princess Oto's castle, he uses his stigma to save Ren and Calimari despite knowing he'd get hurt. And Ren is right to be mad at him about it! But what's worse is that he turns around and almost immediately does it again, this time with the implication that he was ready to lay down his life!! He tells Towa to stay with the MC and Ren because he thought they would have a better chance if he distracted Oto! His final words before Towa breaks the tank is that it's up to Towa now! And I think he knew Towa would most likely pull through, but he was definitely in bad, bad shape beforehand. And what if he didn't have the first aid kit? I don't think it would've changed his actions.

It's just. I want him to take better care of himself. I want him to value himself outside of the joking contexts we always see. Outside of the context of the park and the anomalies in his care. I want him to be able to rely on Ren and Towa more often, because right now he does tend to take the fall for them more often than not. Towa vists the hill so he stays home instead of asking him to return. Ren wants to work at the diner, so Haru lets him rather than forcing him to quit like he originally tried to.

Haru Sagara you will meet me in the pit (the pit is a nice comfortable bed) and I will beat you to death with my hooves (tuck you in goodnight because you wake up at like 4 in the goddamn morning and go to bed at god knows when if you even manage to ever sleep) (and then cook you a meal since you obviously don't eat enough either given that you have to be like oh don't worry i ate some lettuce and bread)

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2024: THE GREAT CITIES DUOLOGY by N. K. Jemisin.

[brother-emperors]

cassius and trebonius are interesting because there's about three or four different variations on how their dynamic falls into place that exist in my mind, and all are equally compelling to me. like, does cassius approach him first? or is it trebonius that seeks him out. maybe cicero is the one who initiates the first meeting! I could make full comics about each of them if only there was time.

this one, however, is much more balanced in that they don't really seek each other out for conspiracy, but conspiracy creeps in on it's own. brutus is a character here, theoretically. like, I thought about him when I was writing this, and cicero is here for two panels.

also, it's funny to me if they both stay up late complaining about caesar for six hours straight because caesar fucked them over on the political ladder in comparable ways, but also (in reference to (Plutarch, Brutus 8)):

cassius, 4am: and he took my fucking lions, man. trebonius, immediately: do you want me to kill him for you

it's like. aughghhhhh. weeping. wailing. can we talk about how trebonius is identified in association with cassius here.

Rome and Parthia: Empires at War, Gareth C. Sampson

and in turn, it is cassius who will act as retribution personified in the matter of trebonius' death

Philippi and Perusia, Ronald Syme

ko-fi⭐ bsky ⭐ pixiv ⭐ pillowfort ⭐ cohost ⭐ cara.app

[esamastation]

Occasionally I get the urge to write some litrpg isekai.

[human-encounters-diary]

Day 16

As the human and I did not share any duties during this particular cycle, I decided now might be a fitting time to inform the Vitrichl about the aforementioned book, which could possibly grant a further insight into Terrans.

Despite the quite serious circumstances we are currently in, I was able to secure a time frame to initiate a conversation regarding this topic.

I repeated the information V-7 had been able to conjure on this as well as other stories and reports on humans.

"There seems to be one…obstacle, though: The book‘s last documented location is in system Skė-51-33, which does not seem to be even remotely near our current route.", I eludicated.

The Vitrichl seemed to consider the information given, keeping in mind the reason the SIIR Noxos usually avoids this particular system: its unfriendly and occasionally aggressive nature.

Concluding, I was able to convince the Vitrichl through the benefits this book could provide in the task of studying humans, causing the Vitrichl to eludicate that changing the route was currently not possible, but as soon as the chance was offered to us, we would make a short detour through this system to retrieve said book, given that the book was still located there.

In the meantime, I was tasked with retrieving as much possible information on this particular and other sources about humans.

Our arrival on Fendaar is imminent, as we are nearing the planet‘s atmosphere. Further reports will follow.

[benbamboozled]

Wild to me that BRUCE was the one who decided that Jason was “lashing out” because Jason hadn’t come to terms with his parents’ deaths (WHICH…EXCUSE ME SIR????)…

Which led directly to the Ethiopia situation (which, btw, WHY DOES NOBODY EVER CALL BRUCE OUT FOR NOT KNOWING HIS UNDERAGE SON WAS IN ETHIOPIA???)…

AND THEN canon has the AUDACITY to have BRUCE blame JASON for his own murder!

Like…YOU WERE THE ONE WHO STARTED THIS WHOLE THING IN THE FIRST PLACE?!!!!

How…what…GAHHHH!!!

[feroluce]

Belobog was my fave main quest but a lot of it is so. Contradictory. It's like they had multiple groups doing different shit and none of them checked in with each other for consistency. And you see this so much in Gepard's profile.

So in the main quest, they made him unfailingly, unquestionably loyal to Cocolia. Gepard's character arc is him learning to question authority etc etc. And this isn't even a bad thing; that's a story worth telling! It makes good conflict between him and Serval! And I love that we got Gepard as a boss battle and I get to see him all the time in SU!

But then you look at his character stories and it's like. The complete opposite.

According to his profile, Gepard has already HAD this awakening, long before the Astral Express, and he'd already decided Cocolia sucks. Even outside of his stories, there's a pretty damning readable between him and Pela.

He even disobeyed direct orders right in front of her- he has been disobeying orders for a while now!

So I've decided I'm marrying the two different sides of this into a 1.5k fic-ish thingy, because I think there's some fun potential there with Gepard not trusting Cocolia, but still having to pretend to be a good obedient little soldier.

Anyway. I love to think of it as like. Gepard knows Cocolia has sunk into her apathy. He can see it in her eyes every time he looks at her. She doesn't care. Not about him, not about Pela, not about all his soldiers on the frontlines giving their lives to protect the citizens. And that's... It makes him bristle a bit, but ok. Gepard can deal with this. Even if Cocolia no longer cares, as long as she does her job then it's fine. Having compassion behind an action doesn't matter as much as the action itself. If Cocolia's heart is no longer swayed, then he'll just have to care twice as hard to pick up the slack. He considers it part of his duty as a captain of the guard anyway. It's fine. Gepard can deal with it.

And then, Cocolia starts coming down to the restricted zone. Issuing direct orders.

And Gepard realizes he is in way over his head.

Because Cocolia orders him to stay back and issue commands from the ramparts, away from all his comrades, away from where he can protect them.

Gepard had thought nothing could be as bad as watching a fellow guard die right next to him. But the first time he watches someone struck by a killing blow, so far away, it hurts. Every defensive scar across his arms itches, his fingers curl in want of a weapon, the cold cannot numb his hands enough as they desperately ache for his shield. It hurts.

Gepard tries to find any reason to stay. Because surely... He knows Cocolia has lost her love for her people, but surely... She wouldn't...

One day, Cocolia orders for their gunners to advance 20 yards. There are no survivors. She almost looks like she smiles.

Gepard doesn't sleep that night.

Pela brings him the report at the end of the first month; and then the month after that, and the month after that. A significant uptick in losses, and all of it started on that first day Cocolia started overriding his authority and issuing her own orders. The ends of Gepard's pens have all been nearly chewed off. Pela outright calls Cocolia an idiot, and Gepard corrects her. Cocolia isn't an idiot. Gepard had known her through Serval, knew her through all her college years and then some, and he knows how intelligent she is. It's not that she's stupid, and it's not that she's inexperienced, it's nothing of the sort.

Cocolia knows exactly what she's doing.

She must, there's no way she could make such a horrible mess of things so badly by accident. And Pela, quick as a whip, sharp as a tack, always too smart for her own good, catches onto the meaning behind Gepard's correction without any further prompting. The tent goes deathly quiet, nothing but the wind howling outside.

"...She's trying to kill us," Pela whispers, her voice swiftly suffocated by the silence.

Gepard swallows. He can't bring himself to correct her this time. There is nothing he could say that he would actually mean.

His gaze drops, back down to his desk and the reports on it. The names aren't listed, just the numbers, but Gepard knows them, knew them, and there must be something wrong, something he's missing, because why, why would she-? What could this possibly accomplish-?

“Gepard! Focus!” Something snaps right under his nose, and Gepard startles, eyes instantly honing in on Pela's irritated face as she leans over his desk. She holds his gaze for a moment before she huffs and begins to pace, wedges a knuckle between her teeth and bites like Gepard hasn't seen her do since cadet school.

Pela angrily strides from one end of his tent to the other, words hissed between her grit teeth. “What are we going to do?” In the dim lighting, Gepard can just barely see the damp spot of blood weeping under her gloves. “We need a plan.”

“A plan?”

“Wh- Yes, a plan! Unless you want more people to die!” Pela rounds on him then, all the wrath of a blizzard, winds roaring and snow sharp enough to cut.

“We don't even know-”

“What does it matter?! She killed-!!” Pela cuts off with a garbled noise when Gepard leaps up from his desk, hastily shoves his hand over her mouth. The prosthetic, not the flesh one, because he knows better than to assume Pela won't seize the opportunity to leave teeth marks in his skin.

“You're right. I'm sorry, I'm sorry; you're right. But you need to keep quiet.” Pela quirks an eyebrow at him and Gepard can read the question in her face. “Because we both saw what she did to Serval,” he hisses.

It's amazing the snow plains haven't thawed out yet, the amount of heat Pela can put behind a glare. The mere mention of Serval, and the smoking ruins Cocolia had made of her life and career, have her bristling up like a riled cat. The sudden hot breath she takes fans fog across his metal skin, and Gepard wisely keeps it in place until Pela finally sighs and reaches up, taps her fingertips against the back of his hand.

The second she's free, Pela bats him away and then her knuckle is right back between her teeth again, Gepard leaning back against his desk with his arms crossed to watch her resume her pacing. “If we spread the word, she'll have us discharged and make sure we can't even touch the frontlines,” Pela's voice seethes like an open sore. Gepard nods but keeps his silence. He knows better than to get in her way.

“And if you and I are both out of the picture, Belobog is fucked.” A little harsher than how he would have put it, but there's no denying that they're both important to the city's survival. Pela has the restricted zone running as efficiently as ever, and Gepard had become the youngest captain on record for a reason. “We need to keep this tight under wraps, at least for now… It can't leak to anyone higher up the chain.” Another nod. “Serval might know other discontents…” Another n-

Gepard's head snaps up. “No.”

“No what?”

“No. We're not involving Serval in this.”

Somehow, even the same tone that leaves entire squadrons shaking in their boots has never worked on her. “You're not deciding that for her, Gepard.”

Pela hadn't seen the worst of it, though, back when his sister had just been banned from the Architects. Serval's pride hadn't allowed it. Pela wasn't the one to find her passed out bottle still in hand, hadn't been the one to wash the sick out of her hair or carry her to bed. 

Serval still has trouble thinking clearly when it comes to Cocolia, still can't quite bring herself to be objective. And Gepard maybe doesn't want her to be purely objective- but he would worry a lot less if she thought twice before she acted more often.

“At least let me be the one to bring it up to her.”

“Whatever, fine,” Pela gestures affirmatively at him as she paces past, and Gepard sighs. Good, at least that's one thing he can help.

From there, it's a lot of hemming and hawing and frustration. Cocolia has them under her boot, and Gepard and Pela both know it. Even with the way she's been cracking down on freedoms lately, Cocolia is still, overall, liked by the people. It's unlikely anyone would believe them. They don't even have solid proof, because most people don't know Cocolia as well as they do and won't see the clues in the same light. 

The Fragmentum has been ramping up in recent years, too. Everyone is struggling just to survive as is, they can't afford a fight on two fronts. Gepard is a damn good captain, one of the best for that matter. But they're at a massive disadvantage, his experience is narrowed to fighting a defensive battle against monsters, that's all he's ever done. That's all anyone there has ever done. He has no way of finding first-hand knowledge for taking the offensive against a human opponent, and if he goes at this blind, there's no way he'll get everyone out unscathed. He's going to lose people. He's going to lose a lot of people.

He'd never thought before that Cocolia would have it in her to have someone killed. And with this new knowledge, he has no guarantee she won't go after Serval or Lynx if she decides to retaliate.

Gepard has to remind himself to breathe when he realizes this.

Pela writes down every name the two of them can come up with. Lists and lists of names and groups and anyone they can think of who might be an ally in all of this. They memorize every bit of it, make their plans of who to talk to and when. Gepard watches the sparks reflect off Pela's glasses as they burn the evidence together.

Pela finally leaves, far too late to make it home, but says she wants to stay in the restricted zone anyway to investigate. Gepard watches her make her way in the direction of Dunn's tent, watches her back until she's out of his sight and squashes down the urge to follow and keep an eye on her. His tent feels empty.

In the morning, Gepard is up before the wake up bells. He drags himself out of bed, leads his soldiers through their morning training. The same people gravitate to each other everyday. Friend groups and training partners. There's an ongoing rivalry between a few squadrons that everyone bets on. Some of them have lockets around their necks, keepsakes, mementos. Some of them wear wedding rings.

Gepard is suddenly, painfully aware of something acidic clawing at the inside of his throat, of a heavy weight low in his chest that blooms, takes up room until it threatens to spread his ribs. His mouth tastes of bile and blood.

He rearranges the schedules. Puts himself down for every open patrol into the Fragmentum, makes sure he'll be on the frontlines every single time Cocolia visits.

He only hopes that it's enough.

[homoeroticgrappling]

Oh holy fuck these pictures are incredible

[evilcokito]

Had this in notes and never put info on Bleach-Au-Sam. No more mystery. Would love to draw ALL this, but CAN'T *cries*

- 2 Scuad Captain -

A pleasure! What can I do for you, Little Imp?

A captain never present, but in the end always there. As magic! Everyone thinks he excels at Shunpo, but has many more tricks under his sleeve. There are shadows: shinigamis, buildings, a tree. Absolutely always one of those.

Scares everyone by suddenly appearing by surprise, always with a smile! It's a matter of image!~

He can't let them know him.

Of course he loves that respect. Fear? Doesn't care.

He is excelent at collecting information. Partly for his ability, partly because apparently is curious man. Loves observing and know people, sometimes in person, other times hidden in a corner with purest silence.

Feeling watched? Are those attentive magenta eyes. The sight of the second Captain of the squad: Sam.

... just... Sam.

Simply have to trust him, there is no other option.

Sam has a small Shop where sells objects from the Human World, of the greatest variety. It's part of collecting information too, but for a good price, it could be for anyone.

All of his subordinates treat him with the greatest respect, and thats strange to other squads. To them, he is a friendly captain. Funny, theatrical and dramatic. But those who saw him "perform" know the ferocity.

This is a secret. Apparently it is said, that the captain has more subordinates than just the Shinigamis in the squad.

The shinigamis of the second squad not only collect information, in certain cases the target must be eliminated. If fortune is good and the objective is important, the captain himself takes charge. He likes quick and precise work. Don't worry, won't hurt at all.

Unless he must unleash the Zampakuto's potential.

…Panic…

'Sen no Kage no odori o nagameru'

“ View to the Dance of a Thousand Shadows ”

That world is only shadows, one feels watched all the time. It's like waking up and not being able to move.

Being cordially invited... or rather forcibly dragged by Sam to that place is one of those experiences that is never forgotten.

He doesn't need to smile. His extremely serious face is the last thing the opponent will see.

Sam will take good care of that shadow.

Manage to escape? GOOD LUCK!. But now it's more interesting. That shadow will be Sam's one day. The captain has a very good eye! And always wants to have more IN STOCK! How scary, he's making a strange face. It seems that doesn't like losing what already considers his.

Scared? No, Sam is charismatic and kind in the end.

[tenwhiteandalusians]

so no one was going to tell me if i got literally one episode further tenax drops that he’s the one who saved scorpus from his mom’s pimp AND that he’s intimately familiar with scorpus’ dick when he was younger. guys. guys.

[lemm-moxx]

Where is my guy Clay 🥺

oh shit sorry my bad, here u go man

(also bonus undersculpt art bc i need to do something w it)

[bacchuschucklefuck]

Just found your class swap au and I have absolutely fallen in love! I'd love to hear basically everything about it! Especially like what subclasses they might be!

Also the art is so so so good!!! They're all so expressive!!! Ahhhhh!!! I'm just here screaming as I look at they over and over again!!!

thank you I'm glad ur enjoying ur time here! we don't got everything in place yet (bc that requires like, writing lol) but I do have some ideas of subclasses if that's what ur looking for here. riz I'm thinking college of whispers -> college of lore, gorgug's domain of peace -> domain of twilight, fabian I think starts out as phantom rogue and then swashbuckling rogue + some levels in ranger? kristen I think starts out with wild magic idk if she'd move away from that. maybe lunar sorcery? fig is currently either path of the giant or totem warrior but I imagine she will also pick up at least two more classes (paladin definitely one of them which lol. lmao). adaine I'm thinking battlesmith -> armorer + some levels in fighter. that's about it for now