#it is so hard to figure out how I want to lose them

[restless-soulz]

HOW THE HOUSEWARDENS ACT W/ A BABY (not their own, they're all still underage)

RIDDLE:

-man this guy is so bad with babies, but damn it if he isn't efficient

-he'll make sure that the physical needs are taken care of, but that's not entirely what a baby needs.

-but a baby can't tell you what exactly it needs so it'll just be stressful for both of them until he figures it out

-it might be a while

-doesn't do super well with physical affection (giving)

-he probably won't burn down the house to make a bottle for the baby but he will stress about the temperature and it'll go cold before he's satisfied and it'll repeat the process ad infinitum

LEONA:

-pls the baby he knew was cheka, and he was easy he's got this (NOT)

-lion man just wants to sleep and does not appreciate being woken up for feedings or changings or anything else

-doesn't care about bottle temp, milk is milk

-won't show but is a little stressed about having claws vs incredibly fragile baby skin

-genuinely confused to as why not all babies are not like Cheka

-after a while he'll get down the baby language and be so fast at it, just to maximize his sleep

-hey if it works it works

AZUL:

-another one not really fit for children

-would try to foist off the child to the leeches, and then realize that unfortunately he is the much better option (because morays eat their young)

-he will do his best tho and he will do an almost perfect job

-he just...overestimates human baby milestones

-it's ok, it can go one of two ways. either the parent is delighted by fast progress or Azul feels embarrassed

-like riddle, doesn't super love the whole physical contact thing

-also secretly i'd think he'd be great to talk to for anything involved in being recognized outside of your children or a body dysmorphia kind of depression cause same

KALIM:

-mans has 40 siblings or something

-i trust him, but he can be a little...cloud heavy

-he will make sure that baby is cuddled, and fed, and played, but sleeping is not his thing. adorable, but babies are AWAKE around him

-plus he's had servants that take care of the gross parts so he's clueless about how messy babies usually are

-jamil would lose his mind having two people to take care of, one infinitely more dependent than the other

-as much as i love him, don't give him a baby

VIL:

-he wouldn't try very hard

-babies are hard and he's not planning to babysit very long, he has more important things to do, but in the meantime

-this baby will be TAKEN CARE OF

-he bought a lot of...well...everything and all the excess goes to the parents.

-the cutest outfits you've ever seen

-detests changing and other gross parts but will do it

-does not like the not sleeping part, but he will admit they are very cute

IDIA:

-you're playing with fire here

-the only baby he's ever been around was Ortho, and that...ended terribly

-panicking every single second, and rapidly googling every time the baby breathes a little weird

-builds an automated bottle warmer and baby rockers so he has minimal contact with the baby as possible

-until Ortho says that skin to skin or physical contact is best for optimal health

-he'll whine and cry but do it, for a super short amount of time

-made an automatic changing station so he never does the gross parts

MALLEUS:

-adores children. they do not adore him.

-he can scare them a bit being all dark colors and rbf

-but he does theoretically know how to take care of a human baby

-i don't think silver should count since he's more of a changling

-will not put the baby down unless absolutely necessary (my kind of guy)

-the baby lives in a singular too big shirt or the most regal ensemble you've ever seen. no in between

-doesn't bother with changing since he can just magic it away

-also buys everything for the baby and keeps half for when he hopes to be asked to babysit again

[veilofaponia]

Xiao is no good at navigating human emotions, but even he can tell there’s something off about you.

They’ve always been much more effort to figure out than what it was worth, so he’s never given them much thought, but it’s hard to miss what’s going on with you. Even he notices the dullness in your eyes, as if you’re never fully present, that twinkle he had gotten so used to now gone. He notes that your movements are sluggish, if you even move at all. You tend to spend a lot of your time simply laying down, staring down at a wall or something comparably unremarkable.

He wants you to go back to who you were, that old attitude that ultimately caused you to end up like this. Thus, he sets out to observe humans to find some kind of solution.

That one couple catches his eye, the one that always seems to be arguing yet still remains a pair. Xiao notices that every time the woman is mad at her husband, he gets her some kind of gift, and suddenly they’re all lovey-dovey again.

Getting you a gift… That’s within Xiao’s realm of capabilities. He finds something he’s sure you’ll appreciate, you’ve always liked pretty things. He places it next to you while you’re sleeping (an activity you’ve been doing a lot more than before, he thinks) on the mattress of your room in his abode and quickly teleports away, lest you wake up and catch him in the act.

The next day, he returns, assured you’ll be back to normal, maybe even gushing over the trinket. You’re awake, but alas, you’re staring at the wall again, back turned to both Xiao and his gift. The shiny rock he got you hadn’t even moved a single inch.

That’s odd. He was sure that should’ve been enough, but apparently he was wrong.

Staring at your figure on the mattress, he racks his brain for any kind of alternative, only to come up with nothing but blanks.

This is frustrating. If there’s something wrong, just tell him already, then he can fix whatever the issue is and have this solved.

Communication, he realizes because of his train of thought. He’s caught wind of communication being important in relationships. You two technically aren’t dating, but it’s close enough.

You don’t turn to face him when he demands you tell him what you’re doing, this whole thing of doing all day, of never talking or reacting, but you do reply, though your voice is a little muffled from the blankets you're covered by.

I want to go outside.

That confuses him. There is an outside, but you’re still insisting on staying inside the whole time.

You can go outside. Just walk through the front door.

That’s not the same, you bemoan, everyday is the exact same, it’s like living in a time loop.

That’s it? The repetitiveness of the cycle in his abode was causing this? That’s an easy fix, so much so he almost scoffs that this was all it took to make you so depressed. Humans are so sensitive. He’s sure you’ll feel better the second he changes things up.

. . .

Okay, apparently not.

He’s changed the weather and time in his abode. Many times now, actually. So then why do you remain the same? It’s not like you haven’t noticed, he’s dragged you outside to show you, but you just shrug and shuffle back inside.

Why?

He did what you asked, got you what he thought to be the right treatment, so why aren't you cured?

This whole ordeal feels like a pesky weed that won’t be removed no matter how hard he tugs. He’s aware that his attitude is the root of said weed, but he feels there’s no way for him to disperse of something that already digs so deep. This is the way he chose for things to go, spontaneous and badly planned as it was. Nothing to be done now, that’s his reasoning.

Then, are you really going to stay like this forever? This dull, unresponsive you? Is this going to become the new “normal”?

Xiao doesn’t want it to (and he insists it’s because he wants to protect your livelihood, not because of some selfish reason like wanting to quell this sense of anxiety within him or not wanting to lose you). There has to be something, anything he can do to get even a glimpse of the real you.

Now that he’s really thinking about it, there is something, but it has a bitter taste building in his throat at the thought of going along with it.

But if it’s what it takes to get any kind of reaction out of you, maybe it’s worth it.

I’ll take you outside. To the real world.

The response is immediate, so quick it even shocks Xiao. You sit up in bed and stare at him with wide pupils and your mouth a little agape, almost as if you’re asking him really? The real world, the place Xiao ripped you from, deeming it too dangerous. Too many risks, too many variables, making it impossible for him to secure your safety there.

He gives little time for questioning. He walks up to you and grabs hold of you, pulling you to your feet, then your surroundings become unstable.

You’re attacked by a sudden brightness, stinging and closing your eyes that grew too used to the lighting of your room, and you can’t help but gasp at what you see when you reopen then.

You’re high up, far away from civilization, but you know this isn’t something Xiao created. That familiar, dingy mattress is replaced by grass under your feet. The neutral temperature is replaced by the heat of the sun shining on you, the rays causing your eyes to twinkle in the light, only further adding to how happy you look right now, with those wide eyes and that smile reaching them.

You realize now he’s brought you to a mountain. It’s cold, really cold, but you’d rather jump down right now than voice your discomfort. Knowing Xiao, his paranoia would immediately kick in and you’d go right back to his abode.

He’s holding your wrist far too tight for comfort — you’ll have to convince yourself you don’t notice the way his cheeks are dusted red at the contact — but you can almost pretend he isn’t there at all, because he is of no concern right now.

You’re outside, the real world. Not some fabricated world where Xiao controls every little detail, down to the length of every individual blade of grass.

It feels surreal.

You’re preoccupied with taking in everything while you still can; there’s no saying when Xiao will decide it’s been enough and take you back, so better make every second count. You don’t notice how the adeptus is looking at you. You don’t notice the relief painted on his features, usually stoic and awkward.

If this is the result of taking you to this real world, then perhaps this wasn’t a terribly stupid thing to do. Necessary sacrifices and all that.

He just really hopes you won’t get used to this and start demanding he take you out more.

[estellan0vella]

Sunshine's Guide To Murder│Lee Minho

Chapter Twenty: Cool Cool Cool SS: 13 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 1.1K & 0.4K Content Warnings: Talks of framing someone for murder, discussion of death by choking on vomit, talks of hiding a body Previous Next Masterlist

Hayun raps her knuckles against the peeling paint of Yeji’s apartment door. The air is cool, the streetlights casting long shadows across the run-down building, but her stance is unwavering. After a moment, the door creaks open, and Ryujin leans against the frame, eyebrow raised as she takes in Hayun’s short, green silk dress, and sneakers. There’s a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Here for a fix?” Ryujin’s voice is casual, but there’s a hardness underneath, something testing in her gaze.

Hayun crosses her arms, shaking her head. “I need to talk to you.”

Ryujin rolls her eyes, pushing off the door frame as she glances back inside the apartment. “Alright,” she mutters, and gestures for Hayun to follow. “Let’s take this outside. I don’t want to deal with Yeji’s bullshit if she overhears.”

They head down the worn staircase, the building’s creaks and groans filling the silence between them until they step out into the back garden. A dimly lit, overgrown patch of yard greets them, offering just enough privacy for a conversation. Ryujin slouches against the railing, her eyes fixed on Hayun with a mix of curiosity and irritation.

Hayun doesn’t waste any time. “Mingi’s going down,” she states, her voice cool but laced with satisfaction. “The police found the tapes.”

Ryujin quirks a brow, giving a sardonic chuckle. “With a helping hand, I suppose?”

Hayun shrugs, a small smirk playing on her lips. “More like a pointing finger, but whatever works, right?”

Ryujin shakes her head, lips curling into a dry smile. “So, now you’re trying to figure out who killed my sister, is that it?”

“We both already know who that was, don’t we, Ryujin?” Hayun’s gaze is steady, unwavering. “Your own sister drugged you and served you up to Mingi. That’s enough to drive anyone to murder.”

The words hang heavily in the air, but Ryujin doesn’t flinch. Instead, her expression hardens, and she tilts her head, studying Hayun with a kind of detached defiance.

“Yeji helped you cover it up, didn’t she?” Hayun presses, her voice quiet but firm. “So, where’s Yuna’s body?”

Ryujin snorts, crossing her arms. “Yeji hid it,” she admits, her tone indifferent. “I don’t know where she put Yuna. That way, if the cops ever find her, I can play innocent. No way to trace it back to me if I don’t even know where she is.”

Hayun’s expression doesn’t change; she’d expected as much. “And Chaeryeong?” she asks, her voice softening, though her gaze remains intense.

Ryujin shakes her head slowly. “I don’t know about Chaeryeong.”

Hayun nods, letting the silence settle for a moment. Then, she glances away, eyes fixed on the murky street beyond the fence as if gathering her thoughts. Finally, she speaks, her voice low, almost hesitant. “I’m not going to turn you in, Ryujin. But I need to know… what happened that night?”

Ryujin’s jaw tightens, and she glances away, her eyes narrowing as she stares into the darkness. When she finally speaks, her voice is stripped of its usual bravado, raw and bitter.

“She’d met up with that mystery older man of hers. She came back bleeding from her head—they’d fought, I guess.” Ryujin’s face twists into a grimace. “Guess he’d had enough of the blackmail. When she stumbled in, she looked pathetic, whining about how she was losing control. I… I lost it, Hayun.”

There’s a dark, almost haunted look in Ryujin’s eyes as she continues, her voice rough with resentment and a hint of guilt. “I pushed her. She hit the floor, and I just… left her there. When I came back later, she’d vomited and choked on it. She was dead.”

Hayun listens quietly, her face unreadable as Ryujin relives the moment. She lets the silence hang for a moment, absorbing the weight of Ryujin’s confession.

Finally, Hayun steps forward, her voice steady but filled with a quiet intensity. “I have a plan, and I need your help—and Yeji’s.”

Ryujin’s brows shoot up, the hint of a smirk returning. “I’m listening.”

Hayun’s gaze hardens, and she takes a steadying breath. “I want to frame Mingi for Yuna’s murder.”

For the first time, something close to admiration flickers in Ryujin’s eyes. She straightens, an approving grin spreading across her face. “I’m in,” she says, her voice tinged with a dark thrill.

Ryujin leans back against the cracked brick wall, her eyes gleaming as she sizes up Hayun with a twisted admiration. “I’ve got a few pieces of Yuna’s jewelry stashed away,” she says, almost as if proud of her careful preservation of her sister’s keepsakes.

Hayun gives a curt nod, her mind working quickly. “Good. Get someone to plant them in Mingi’s apartment. And Yeji… tell her to plant something linked to wherever she stashed Yuna. That way, when the police sweep the place, they’ll find enough to make a murder charge stick.”

Ryujin grins, her expression dark and excited. “You want all this done tonight?” she asks, already knowing the answer but enjoying the sheer audacity of it.

Hayun’s gaze is steely. “Tonight,” she says. “Police will be after Mingi tomorrow, and once they’ve got him, the apartment’s a crime scene. You know what that means.”

Ryujin nods slowly, her grin widening. “They all underestimated you, didn’t they? Sunshine Hayun, turning ruthless in the name of justice. Plotting to frame a man for murder…” She laughs, a low, almost reverent sound. “Who knew?”

Hayun shrugs, her face expressionless as she turns to leave. “Who didn’t,” she mutters, barely above a whisper, more to herself than anyone else.

Without another word, she heads off, her footsteps crunching against the scattered gravel as she leaves the dimly lit garden behind. The night air is cool against her skin, a thin veil of mist settling over the street. She shoves her hands into her pockets, her thoughts racing, the plan ticking over in her mind as she walks, one step at a time, closer to home. The air feels almost electric, charged with the risk she’s taken, the trap she’s setting.

But as she turns down a quieter street, something doesn’t feel right. It’s quiet—too quiet. Before she can react, a hand clamps over her mouth, pressing a damp rag against her nose and mouth. She gasps, and a sickly sweet, overpowering scent fills her lungs. She twists, struggling, elbows jabbing backwards in a desperate attempt to fight her way free. Her body thrashes, adrenaline surging as she claws at the arm holding her.

But her vision starts to blur. The world around her begins to darken, her limbs going heavy and uncooperative. Her heart pounds, a distant, fading beat as her strength drains away. With a final, feeble attempt to push back, she loses her grip on consciousness, slipping into blackness, the streetlights fading to stars.

And then nothing.

Minho’s foot slams down hard on the brake as he pulls up outside Yeji’s dingy apartment complex, the tires skidding slightly on the uneven pavement. He barely has the engine off when he and Jisung jump out, both tense and grim, their eyes scanning the shadows of the building’s entrance. Spotting Ryujin leaning against the door, Minho strides over, his face set in a hard line.

Jisung’s eyes narrow immediately. “Where the hell’s Hayun?”

Ryujin’s gaze doesn’t falter as she straightens, crossing her arms. “I don’t know. She left here about an hour ago. And for the record, she was sober. Didn’t take a damn thing.”

Minho, running a hand through his hair, tries to keep his cool, though his face betrays his worry. “Why was she here, Ryujin?”

Ryujin gives a faint smirk, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “That���s between us girls, unfortunately.”

Minho grits his teeth. “Funny, considering Chan just found her phone smashed on a street nearby and no sign of her.”

Ryujin’s expression flickers, her eyes narrowing. “You’re saying she’s missing? You think someone took her?”

Jisung runs a hand over his face, his voice barely concealing his frustration. “She wouldn’t just disappear like that. Not unless—”

Minho interrupts, his voice steady but edged with a dangerous calm. “If she’s not high, then it makes no sense. She was meeting you for a reason.”

Ryujin sighs, her eyes darting between them. “Alright, alright. I’ll get Yeji to put out some feelers, see what comes up. But you two better be prepared… If this was Mingi…” She shakes her head, a dark look crossing her face. “Let’s just say you should pray it was anyone else.”

Jisung’s jaw clenches. “And what if it wasn’t him?” He swallows, his voice thick. “What if it was one of the killers? If Hayun found out who killed Yuna or… or Chaeryeong.”

Ryujin lets out a breath, glancing away before answering, her voice deliberately measured. “Then you boys better get searching. I’ll work my side, but I’ll tell you this. Before Yuna disappeared, she was getting cold feet with Mingi and Lia. Mingi wasn’t happy. Thought maybe she was working with the cops or something.”

Minho’s gaze sharpens, his fists clenching at his sides. “So, you’re saying you think it’s Mingi?”

Ryujin hesitates, then shakes her head, her expression inscrutable. “No. I think it’s whoever killed Chaeryeong. Mingi’s the kind of guy who’d be planning his exit right now, not sticking around for this. It’s the unknown you should be worried about.”

Jisung glances at her, a hard edge to his voice. “So you’re saying you think Mingi killed Yuna?”

Ryujin lifts her chin, her eyes meeting his steadily. “That’s my theory.”

Taglist: @hityoulikebahng @drewsandsebastianswife @fackeraccount @lily-loves-kpop @stilldontknowhoiam

@ziggy1221 @justaspoonofjam @tr-mha-fan @candycurshidkwhatthehell

@heeseungspookie @smigcrazy @skzstannie @nightmarenyxx

Side Rant: I spent 40 hours playing AOT 2: Final Battle only to die at the end saving crystalised Annie. That is my character's CANON ENDING. I am not impressed but am going to play the game again

[neztune]

I'm not usually a fan of HTTYD3, but thinking about all of the dragons leaving... it hurts a lot enough on its own, right? I'm super attached to runaway Hiccup AUs, so imagine how much worse that it would hurt and feel if the dragons were still to leave in those AUs... because Hiccup was stubborn, stuck around on Berk despite constantly having to try and fail to prove himself all of the time. Once he was friends with Toothless, he ran away for his friend, and to maintain their friendship without putting Toothless at risk, and etc.

So imagine the dragons all leaving, and however long he had disappeared for feels worthless?

It could be argued that it's similar to Valka and how she felt with Cloudjumper leaving, but at the same time, her choice to run off wasn't really her choice at first. She argued for the dragons a lot to keep them alive, but later was able to find the friendship once she was already gone and not dealing with Berk's expectations anymore.

But I'm not discrediting that it must have been incredibly hard for her to lose Cloudjumper as well. After twenty years, I know it hurt to see him leave like that.

Personally... I really don't want the dragons to leave. But! Aaaangst.

So whether Hiccup is back on Berk when the dragons leave or not, he still has to try to figure out what the point of being gone was, and why he left at all. The worry about the judgement once all the dragons are gone, and the probability that he hadn't brought the dragons to Berk and saved both parties in the AU. There's just that separation, and he has to worry about going home or something as just the same Hiccup as always

[embracing-the-ineffable]

Advice for Challenging Times

Do something kind for yourself today. Cuddle your fur baby. Spend time playing with your kids. Get outside and feel the sun on your skin. It’s okay to feel joy today, too, and if you find some pass it on.

Take care of yourself, today and going forward. Get a good night’s sleep, eat what sustains you and gives you energy, move your body as you’re able. We need you at your best to fight this fight. Don’t give up on your life or your sobriety or whatever hard-won progress you’ve made fighting your demons. We need YOU, full stop.

Take inventory of what you need to do, right now, to protect yourself and the people you love. Do you need to seek preventive care, get surgery, figure out long-term birth control, or anything else before the end of the year? What vaccinations can you get or get a booster for in case they’re banned or dropped from insurance (not just COVID and flu, though definitely those, but also pneumonia, shingles, HPV, Tdap, etc.)? What legal protections do you need that will be more accessible now than in January? Is where you are the safest place you can be? Is it where you feel called to be, to make a difference?

Make a plan for how you’ll build resistance as a daily practice. Will you pack a bag with everything you need to show up to a protest, so you can come whenever you’re called? Can you write letters to reps during your lunch breaks or as you’re having your morning coffee? What tools do you have that can be bent toward justice, and how can you use them regularly and sustainably? You don’t have to pick one huge battle and win it; you do have to be a part of the work.

Connect with your community. They need you; you need them. If you don’t have community, prioritize finding it. Make a practice of smiling at your neighbors; join a dinner group or a club or a spiritual community; come together with your colleagues; ask friends to introduce you to their worlds. The work is more manageable together. The world is less scary with others by your side.

Make a plan for how you’ll stay informed without becoming paralyzed. You must know what’s happening, but do not mistake self-flagellation for action. Find a space and a community that acknowledges the pain of what’s happening and feeds your hope and fires you up for the fight.

Know where to place your blame and anger. There is plenty of it to go around, much of it deserved. But there are also, undeniably, systems that were built to work against us, and more people who want to make the world better than who want to watch it burn. Those in power want you to lose sight of the humanity around you; cling rebelliously to it instead. I love you. I believe in you. I believe in us.

Wonderful advice by Rachel Stark

[demigod-shenanigans]

I’ll answer the Harley stuff first because I may or may not have a snippet for the Piper one ;)

So, I feel like in Fate verse (I’m just gonna call it that, series title for that series of oneshots is “fate and other technicalities”), Harley’s siblings (especially Nyssa) tried to make sure he didn’t see Leo when things were really bad early on. They let him know Leo was hurt, because the whole Leo blowing himself up and Jason carrying into the infirmary missing a leg and covered in ash was kind of a big deal that would have been hard to miss, and they let him know that Leo is going to be okay, but they don’t want Harley going to the infirmary while Leo is still out cold.

Harley insists he wants to see him and probably sneaks in. Curses at poor sleep-deprived Jason that he should have protected Leo better but Jason already feels like it’s his fault and him just agreeing that it’s his fault actually doesn’t help Harley feel better so he just kind of pats Jason’s arm awkwardly and apologizes. They just kind of sit there together for a bit and Harley squeezes Leo’s hand and tells him to wake up and that he’s stupid and then darts out again (it’s all a lottt for such a little kid)

I also like to think that the ring/fold-out crutches were Harley’s idea. Hc that maybe he had an injured leg at some point during the whole Hephaestus cabin curse business and remembers how annoying it was figuring out where to put the crutches when he wasn’t using them, so he didn’t want Leo to have to deal with that, and all of his siblings come together to help to make the crutches.

He’s the one presenting them to Leo totally claiming he made them all by himself and Nyssa lightly raises an eyebrow at him and he sighs and goes “I guess the others helped, too” and Leo just laughs and ruffles his hair

A lot of what you’re asking regarding Piper will be saved for tchig, and I can’t go into that too much for spoiler reasons, but I do have a Piper WIP that’s a sort of companion fic to tchig and takes place at the same time as Leo’s little… trip, so I’ll share a preview from that! (Obviously this takes place bit later than we are in the current tchig timeline, so there’s some slight spoilers in this snippet)

“The demigod you’re trying to reach is currently outside of my service area. Please try again later,” a tinny voice sounded through the rainbow.

“What do you mean, he’s outside your service area?” Piper asked, struggling to keep her voice calm.

She was trying not to cry.

Not being able to reach Leo wouldn’t have freaked her out on most days—he’d told her he needed some space to process things, and as much as she wished that wasn’t the case, she understood—but today of all days, it was just too much. “Thank you for choosing the Iris Messaging service,” the voice from the rainbow continued, ignoring her question. It was fucking recording. “If you would like to end the call, please press red. If there is anyone else you’d like to contact-”

Piper did cry, then. Forget not crying in front of the stupid rainbow goddess. She couldn’t help the sobs building in her chest. Couldn’t help the way her thoughts spiraled. What if something had happened to Leo? What if, after everything they’d been through, she’d lost him, too? If she’d gotten him back just to immediately have him ripped away from her again?

A little over three months ago, Piper had cradled Jason’s lifeless body in her arms after a mission gone awry.

She’d gotten better at dealing with the grief and the memories since Hazel and Frank had gotten her in contact with a therapist—a child of Bacchus that Piper didn’t have to hold anything back from. Talking to her helped. But a few months weren’t enough to heal the kind of grief that came with losing a section of your heart.

Piper hadn’t loved Jason the way she’d initially thought she did, but she had loved him. He’d been her best friend. When they’d lost Leo, having Jason to hold her through it had been the only thing keeping Piper sane. Jason, who was a terminal optimist and believed against all odds that Leo was okay—that he had to be okay, because he was Leo, and there was nothing he couldn’t do if he set his mind to it.

And Jason had been right. Leo was okay. But he hadn’t lived to be reunited with him.

Leo had taken it the hardest out of anyone. They were all grieving in their own ways, but Leo had shut down completely. Piper hadn’t seen him cry much before it had happened. Leo joked his way through most situations with worryingly practiced ease. To an extent, he’d still done that with Jason’s death. But he’d also sobbed into Piper’s shoulder until his voice failed him. He’d cried a lot during the weeks he’d stayed with her, and more in most Iris Messages after.

Piper couldn’t imagine what it was like to only realize you were in love with someone after they’d been ripped away from you for good.

But she was grieving, too. She would have held Leo through it all, if only he had let her.

So! If anyone would like to be distracted/cheered up a little please feel free to send me some short valgrace/lost trio prompt and I’ll try to write a drabble or do some headcanons or something. Sfw stuff only please but otherwise I’m good with pretty much anything request-wise

[deityofhearts]

with the family portrait redraws of my ocs it’s just like, with each redraw it is glaringly obvious that I still suck at posing at least like, posing so many characters

[mattodore]

birthday boy 🎂

[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.

[icejello]

Okay svsss fandom give me your thoughts

So i was thinking about that scene where sqq jokingly asks the system if it ever worked with the harry potter franchise before and got inspired to write a harry potter au for svsss. The characters that would be involved are bingqiu and moshang but i can't figure out what Hogwarts house they would be in so do tell me your ideas.

How the story would go?

Basically the system malfunctions and suddenly transmigrated the 4 of them into the Harry Potter world. They can only escape if they help protect Harry and figure out who's the evil person trying to kill him (it's going to be centered in book 1). The problem? None of them knows about Harry Potter and so they're in a panic trying to solve who the evil person is without realizing Harry practically could not be killed because of the prophecy.

[usernameyettocome]

Hey fellas. Piece of advice, never get lost in trying to make a fourteen sided die with nothing but scissors, a protractor, tape, paper and a determination to make someone a fourteen sided die for their birthday. Just don’t.

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

tomorrow is my first day of classes as I go back to school for the first time in eight years and my family has picked today to blow up at each other and drag me into it

[arolesbianism]

Some au antag doodles

[izzy-b-hands]

I keep forgetting I can't seem to get the current version of xkit to work on my new laptop and going to do stuff that it let me do fjldksafjdlsaj

[zellkabellk]

Started thinking about new tattoo idea.... it's just a baby idea for now but it's Rain World themed partially (Im trying to find the other themes mdkjfshgkj it'll prob be part of a sleeve)

[pinkopalina]

as a huge batjokes shipper i want batman and joker to hate each other in the sense they dont really hate each other, they just have really different goals and see their own version of potential in the other and right now hate is the best word for their situationship. they both love the other for what they could be but neither of them wants to be what the other one wants, and that's equally as frustrating as it is necessary for them to keep existing in their current roles. they're deadlocked and that fate surrounding each other is kind of the point -- we both have to be like this, the opposite of what the other wants, for us to keep existing at all, and for giving me that gift i both love and hate you. it's an agreement. i think the hate that's there now is born from an intense underlying love.

i think batman "hates" joker for being so amazing and smart and cunning, for being able to create grand gestures and schemes, to pull people together under his charisma and make them all believe in something, for being as extraordinary as he is but batman hates that he uses it to hurt people. he hates that joker can't channel his energy into doing something good for the world, that he hurts himself and others just because he wants to be batman's greatest enemy. i think batman wants to help joker but also hates him at this point for joker exhausting him, constantly getting hurt both emotionally and physically by him, joker never trying to improve his situation, throwing away other people's lives, showing batman he loves him by lashing out and hurting him. batman hates joker because he loves his rogues, he wants to help them, and he knows they can do better. he wants to live in a gotham that doesn't need batman but he still needs to be needed, because when there's no batman, what is bruce going to be? without joker, he will continue being batman, but it's an empty crusade. some of my favorite interactions between harvey and bruce are the ones where harvey thanks bruce for "always being there for me, never giving up on me, my very best friend." even with someone like harvey, bruce can still hold onto that hope for his rogues, never give up on them, keep going for them, even if it puts them through the cycle one more time.

i think joker hates batman in the most toxic way possible, but it's still love. i just think he's selfish and doesn't want batman to think about anyone else but him, the same way he operates for batman, but if he must think about other people then joker will make it as amazing as possible! i think he hates batman for wasting his time on ordinary people, people who are so boring that batman claims he has to protect and serve and love them but joker thinks it's all surface-level. batman won't kill joker but he'll leave room for people dying in his crusade. it's a choice he allows, and even if joker knows that's a morally fucked up way to put someone in a box, he doesn't care. batman is the type of person to train himself mentally and physically for decades and dress up in a half-silly-half-menacing costume so that everyone can have an idea about him. batman himself is not normal, and joker knows that and loves that! why is he wasting his time trying to save people that use him, abuse him, don't want him to be the best he can be? i think joker's motivations for loving batman and lashing out as if he hates him lie somewhere in between extreme admiration -- like i truly believe in your cause and that you're the right person to do it, but i'm so angry at you for wasting your time on other people and i'm so hurt and jealous that you choose them over me, just so you can be a hypocrite and let them die if i want them to anyways -- and anger at his hypocrisy -- like it's easy for joker to dedicate himself to chaos and just being in batman's life by putting batman in situations that force him to be a better and better hero, but how can batman sit there and choose and pick what morals he'll uphold and who gets to live and who gets to die?

i want to be your greatest enemy because you are the greatest hero ever, and the only way you and i can keep being the best at what we do is if we do it together, because of what we both believe in.