#i didn't write this out of anger

[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.

[randomfandomss]

I really don't think that we aren't getting the scene where Armand turns Daniel.

We got Louis, Claudia and Madeleine's turning. We are going to get Lestat's and probably Armand's turning as well. So, what? You think they are gonna leave out Daniel specifically? Why?

Also regarding Rolin's comments about the Dubai set etc. if it's true, it just means that Armand didn't turn Daniel in Dubai. It happened at a later point.

And if it happened later, I refuse to believe Armand turned him out of spite.

Like I simply don't think Armand wouldn't turn Daniel when he is at the peak of his rage but do so later and out of spite?? Nuh huh, that's not gonna happen.

Basically, if it happened in Dubai, there is a chance it might have been out of rage. And if it didn't happen in Dubai then there was definitely some other reason why Daniel was made a vampire.

Assad said right now the question is what happened in Dubai? And of course after watching the episode we all have assumed that Daniel was turned in Dubai. What if the reveal is that it actually didn't happen there???

[thesummerstorms]

The other thing that I think I would want in an Annabeth Wayne AU that I don't think I've seen so far is Bruce being absolutely pissed at Athena.

It was bad enough with Talia and Damian, but Athena is a literal god of wisdom who should know better AND he doesn't even have the "culpability" of having slept with her.

She one hundred percent saw Batman, tactician of the Justice League, was drawn in by her aspect of the Goddess of Strategy, and proceeded to create a child without his consent, a daughter who she didn't even raise before the child became a weapon.

And like whatever else, however fucked up Damian was by his own training to become a child-weapon, at least Talia loved Damian.

Whereas Athena loves Annabeth in the way a Goddess loves, not the way a Person loves, and I don't think Bruce, whose entire identity is so fixated on his relationship with his own parents, would recognize that as love at all.

And, like, Talia put Damian through a lot of shit. I think Bruce would be angry there too. But when push came to shove, she at least at some point brought him to Bruce because she thought it was in her son's best interests.

Athena actively lead Annabeth away from Bruce and into the streets at the age of seven, which Bruce would never see as in her best interest, whatever Athena's godly perspective is, however badly he reacted after Jason's death, even though he couldn't see (and dismissed the idea of) the spiders and the monsters. She was seven. In the streets of Gotham.

Athena let Annabeth fight a major role in two wars back to back without being there to train her or protect her or love her or even advise her. Athena advocated for the cold blooded murder of the other children who had actually tried to keep his daughter safe. Athena sent Annabeth against Arachne when Athena's children have universally died on that quest for a thousand years.

Athena let Bruce think he had gotten Annabeth killed because of his own inability to handle his grief. Let him think his daughter was dead or worse for years. Would have let him keep thinking that if the Fates didn't have other plans.

And just, in true fashion for all of my ideas on a PJO x DC crossover, everyone really comes out more traumatized than before. This includes Bruce.

Because now he wasn't just used unknowingly for a child just once, but twice. And in both cases he's going to have to live forever with the guilt of not having been able to protect his kids from what their other parent wanted to make of them

(On top of all the ways he has directly failed them and made any complexes worse, of course )

[sciderman]

Were Peter and Harry properly a thing? Or was it more of a spur of the moment hook-up?

in 9319? it was just two sordid nights – and sweet, sweet lingering trauma...

harry so nice, peter had to have it twice.

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

“You don’t have to do this.”

"You don't have to do this."

Demeter's voice comes from somewhere behind Alonzo's shoulder, thin and reedy but heavy with intent. She is frighteningly calm, all things in considered, though Mungojerrie can hear the tail edge of something foreign tightening each syllable.

The decided emphasis of the statement gives Alonzo a solid beat of pause; he's hearing what Demeter is saying, but, more importantly this time around, he's deliberating it. It's gotten through to him. Mungojerrie sees every millimeter of muscle beneath his eye twitch and shift. He holds his breath.

The speed at which Mungojerrie had been off his paws and slammed back against the wall was - admittedly - startling, knocking the wind and words clean out of him. He'd been midsentence, explanatory excuse just on the tip of his tongue, attempting to keep pace with the cats walking with him, but every time he caught up front, they continued on. Alonzo wouldn't even look at him - that should have been his first warning.

They'd been silent amongst themselves when he'd made his meager attempt at explanation. Even Teazer was frighteningly quiet, trailing hesitantly behind Demeter, in the way that suggested whatever she'd seen back in that room hadn't been good. The silence had been deafening and uncomfortable, tension thick and wounded like a noose set to decorate a neck, and every nervous bone in Mungojerrie's body screamed to fill it, interrupt it - say something that would diffuse everything and stitch them back together instead of feeling like he'd been trapped behind glass, screaming and screaming with no one around to make it mean anything.

He'd said the wrong thing; he could feel it the moment it whistled through his teeth. He'd said the wrong thing, done the wrong thing, pissed off the wrong cats. Or just one of the wrong cat; the most important of wrong cats. And they'd all surely pay for that slip up down the line. But it could be smoothed over; surely everything could.

The last thing he had heard before being suspended was a sharp, flat exhale - a decisive, frustrated kind of noise that, perhaps if he were paying more attention to his surroundings instead of his fear, Mungojerrie would have recognized as something foreboding.

Now, he was face-to-face with a very angry looking tomcat, and struggling a solid few inches off the ground, every instinct in his body screaming at him to escape, lash out and yowl like his tail was on fire, do something, but he was completely frozen. Alonzo held onto the scruff of his chest firmly, shoving his nose into Mungojerrie's muzzle and the rest of him bodily into his space so he couldn't look away from him even if he tried. There were bright coals of anger burning in Alonzo's eyes, fanned to life with an undercurrent of fear. Danger. A reminder - Mungojerrie thought distantly as his attempts at squirming free from an iron grip slowed to a trickle, then an icy stop - of how he'd gotten to be where he was in the first place. It was easy to forget; easy to pretend they were playing one long hauled game. Alonzo was grumpy and aloof, but never dangerous. Never any real threat.

There is a scar running through his lip and up into his nose, deep and pulled taught against his snarl. Mungojerrie wonders where he got it. He'd never asked.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" the larger tomcat growled, low, menacing, cold, shaking him for emphasis. "What is the matter with you?"

Send me a sentence and I’ll fill at least five more in after it for a little mini-fic.

[dashiellqvverty]

the thing about bbc merlin is that in many ways it is very tragic, in the sense that so much bad shit that happens could have easily been avoided if charcters had made different choices, hadn't been so wrapped up in prophecies, had trusted people and communicated openly literally ever, just generally got their heads out of their asses. like i know thats the point, they are trying so hard to do the right things and protect people but the story is unavoidable. HOWEVER it is all soooo fucking poorly executed that none of it is effective. so instead of thinking "wow what a tragic story about fate/destiny/whatever" you walk away like "well that fucking sucked for no reason. i hate that fuckass dragon" and i sometimes feel very cinemasins in the way i pick apart the logic but the thing is the show is written in a way that makes the characters come off as so stupid and always making terrible choices rather than like. tragic victims of circumstance.

[spoofyleaf]

“as far as MK knew, everyone completely abandoned him, and for the undisclosed amount of time, he was Not Okay and kept going back to the shadow play bc he truly believed that his friends just... gt up and left him. left him in the shadows” blah blah blah

okay but can we talk about how angry he was at Wukong? It’s hinted that he kept seeing Wukong when he wasn’t really there (“this again? look i know you’re not really here”) and it must of become such a common occurrence bc he didn’t even bat an eye- hell, he even lashed out at “wukong” and went to punch him. And looked surprised that he hit something solid (macaque). MK told what he knew wasn’t actually Wukong (what he probably believed to be a figment of his imagination) what he wanted to tell the real Wukong. He let out the anger he held towards him. (anger for what? “giving” him powers? for making him who he was, making him the kind of person his friends wanted to abandon?? for putting too much on him? for not being there what he needed him??? the list goes on).

But he doesn’t tell the real Wukong these things. He isn’t open to him about these things in general- not until the s4 special atleast.

My point is: MK is holding in a lot of anger. Not just sadness or fear or low self esteem. But anger.

Idk i just think its neat, esp w who he directed it towards so easily :)

[bybdolan]

wish i could be angry without feeling bad

[the-terminal-show]

sso badly would like to stop falling asleep against my will every 4-5hrs. Return my insomnia!!!! i didn't know how good i had it, i can barely stay awake past 10pm & I start sleeping while sitting up within 5 minutes. you know how fucked that is??

[rubberbandballqueen]

so anxious abt work today that my brain is telling me to show up Now..... 90 minutes early............. inner chilchuck where are you...... save me....... save me inner chilchuck...............

[wutheringmights]

what is wars diagnosed with. I know he has them I just don't know which ones.

I would prefer if we didn't pathologize Warriors

[nonbinary-octopus]

oops I started thinking about a frustrating event from highschool and spiraled into anger again :/

[byfulcrums]

I just saw a fanfic that had the Ahsoka/Anakin sibling trope but they kept on calling each other ‘bro’ and ‘sis’ and I'm so angry now

[goldiipond]

at some point when i can gather my thoughts i would like to make an in-depth post (would probably end up being more of an essay honestly) about how tpn treats its characters of color because like. there's definitely a colorism problem with anime/manga in general and i think tpn has some really solid black and brown characters for a medium that is severely lacking in that department but there's also some things it handles poorly and it would be good to explore that i think

[ronanlynchbf]

"all this foreshadowing abt declan dying and then he didn't even die" well personally i think declan got murdered dead by mstief in greywaren so. actually 2 me he did die. Badly.

[pctaldrunk]

@haedshaker​ asked   :    ❝  it takes grace to remain kind in cruel situations.  ❞ for Jiang Yanli!    -   A MEME 

“...It’s not grace.” It’s as if her heart freezes midbeat in her chest - voice soft as she shifts to face the other, careful not to disturb the small child nestled in her arms, sound asleep and dreaming away - “It’s just survival.”  Shakes her head, gaze almost glassy, unseeing - the gentle smile that holds on pale lips MEANINGLESS. Her words are wandering, almost dreamlike - as if she’s not really saying it to anyone else. “In reality - I’m angry all the time. Every second I’m breathing. Angry that my parents haven’t lived to tell A-Cheng they’re proud of him. Angry my son will grow up without a father. Angry that I can’t even speak of...” Closes her eyes. “A-Xian.” 

There’s no grace here, only the meaningless CARNAGE. Drowning in the tidal waves and the spilled blood of every emotion she doesn’t know what to do with. “But what should I do? This is the only way I know how to live. I’m kind.” The counterweight to her brothers - the counterweight to her parents, before that. “It’s all I know how to be. It’s the only thing I know is important to be.” The child stirs in her arms, making a noise and she comes to herself again, gently rocking him. “...Ah - I’m sorry. I’ve said something strange, haven’t I? Don’t mind me. We haven’t been sleeping well recently, A-Ling and I.”  Shakes her head, and a laugh falls from her lips. “You’re very kind.”