#its implied they're both just stupid

[astraloverflow]

Good Cop, Bad Cop (They're Both Bad)

Basically cop!König and cop!Ghost pull you over Since my current König post is going to take a while, I decided to cook up this little post for you guys, I hope you enjoy it :) If there's enough traction, maybe I'll make a part 2, lemme know what you guys think <3 TW: power dynamics oh my, manipulation, implied smut, implied non-con/ dub-con WC: 4046 MDNI

The asphalt stretches ahead, darkness swallowing far beyond your line of sight. Your dim, aging headlights carve a soft path through the void for your eager eyes to make out, their yellow glow flickering against the cracked asphalt; trees loom on either side, their twisted branches reaching, almost as if to grab you. The night is thick and quiet�� too quiet. Each bump in the road rattles through your hands on the wheel, a reminder that you’re alone out here. Or at least, you should be.

You push your foot on the gas, watching the speedometer climb up, noticing an abandoned car on the side of the dirt as you whiz by it. It’s customary to see at least one on these long deserted back roads. You’ve always wondered what ends up happening to these cars that are left behind by their owners. Do they rust away, staying on these streets? Do they get towed away? Broken into? Stolen?

You don’t think much more of it and continue tearing up the road, tapping your finger idly on the steering wheel, mimicking the music beating loudly through the speakers, wanting to get home as fast as possible. You’ve never been a fan of driving at night, especially not this late and alone. 

Suddenly, the headlights of this so-called abandoned vehicle come to life in the distance, flashes of red and blue catch your attention from the rearview mirror, and your heart sinks in dread, “fuck.” 

The police car eases its way off the gravel that lines the side of the street and onto the concrete. For a moment, the car gets smaller and smaller, your speed creating distance between the array of flashes, and you hope that this distance consumes the car straight out of your sight. To your dismay, the vehicle starts to speed its way to you, lights becoming more pronounced and more difficult to ignore. 

You curse yourself and pivot your foot from the gas onto the break, slowing your vehicle down steadily. Due to the sheer speed you were driving at, it takes a moment for the car to decelerate. The dial on the speedometer shifts counterclockwise and you watch as the numbers slowly crawl down, as if dying. After a few seconds, the car is slowed enough to pull it onto the shoulder of the road, tires crunching as they make contact with the gravel, the car rolling to a stop. Your heart is pitter-pattering in your chest, and your hand that was shaking from the sudden rush of adrenaline reaches for the transmission to push upwards on the knob, parking the car, doors unlocking with a click at the gear change. Your foot lifts off the break, and the car steadies itself with a small roll, tires locking. Instinctively pressing down the red and white triangle button on top of your audio system, the hazard lights flick on, imitating the tick of a metronome to illuminate the crushed rocks beneath the vehicle slightly. You’ve never so much as stolen anything before, being pulled over and having to face authorities in these conditions makes your stomach sink into a pit. As you ruminate, the police cruiser slows behind you, parking itself, lights still flashing wildly. You lament the situation, thoughts flooding your mind about how stupid it was for the cops to be here in the first place. It’s practically empty almost all of the time on these backroads, especially at this hour of the night; it doesn’t make sense to you why any kind of law enforcement would wait for a driver to pass by just to nail them with a ticket.

You almost forget that you’ve been pulled over, sucked into your thoughts, until you see a large figure exit the vehicle from the rearview mirror. Your heart jumps at this, and you quickly reach for your glove compartment to grab your vehicle registration, closing the door with a thud. A sharp knock at the window makes you jump and turn your head. He was fast, you thought you had at least a few more seconds. The officer bends at the hip after a moment, leering into the car, and you push down on the window switch, watching the glass disappear into the driver's side door.

You strain your eyes trying to make out his face in the dark, noticing that it is obscured by some sort of cloth, the only part visible being his eyes. You’ve never seen an officer hide their face before, let alone with a piece of fabric.

“License and registration,” he says, accent cutting through the silence like a knife, reaching your ears. 

“One second, sorry,” you stammer, grabbing your wallet in the middle console, unzipping it and pulling out a plastic card. You hand him both the registration papers and your license, and he takes them, gloved fingers brushing against your own for a fleeting second. Your heart jumps at this contact, already overstimulated by being pulled over— you retract your hand, placing both your palms onto your lap, beginning to think of excuses.

He stares down at the card, holding it in his large hand. Your name leaves his lips as he repeats it, reading it off of the thin piece of plastic, “Do you know how fast you were going?” His eyes flick up, boring into your own. The dark makes it hard for your brain to construct his eyes, but the light from your dashboard is enough to see the cold expression he holds in them, blue irises a thin line around his blown pupils.

“Uhm.. no officer,” you hesitate, a bit quieter than you had hoped for your words to come out. 

“About thirty over,” he states matter of factly before looking into your car, eyes catching your outfit, “What are you doing out this late?” 

You feel your mouth go dry at this. The truth is you were just at a house party, celebrating the end of a successful-ish semester. It was about 1:30 am now as you sat in your car trying to come up with any semblance of a believable story. You told yourself you weren’t going to drink, not having a ride back home, being forced to take yourself back to your place through the outskirts of the city at the end of the night. You told yourself. You even made sure to reject any and all alcohol until a close friend of yours urged you, drunkenly begging you to take a shot to celebrate finishing classes. “One can’t hurt, just drink some water after, you’ll be fine, please, for me?” Your friend’s words ring in your ears, and you wallow at yourself for being guilted into taking two more after their initial coercion. It’s been an hour since that, but fear creeps up at the thought of a breathalyzer test. Although you felt sober, you knew the test would not reflect that, and would get you in trouble with the bulky officer staring down at you from your left. It was best to just not act suspicious, take the ticket, and reap the consequences to your bank account later.

“I was just at a friend’s house. Stayed up too late watching a movie, so I decided I needed to get home,” you respond, lying through your teeth, hoping it was convincing enough, feigning a small smile nervously. 

The man hums in thought and you feel relief, thinking he bought your lie. He pauses before speaking up again, “Wearing that?”

You look down at your outfit, a pair of jeans and a tiny top that did little to preserve your dignity. You wish you brought a sweater. Arms almost immediately wrap around your waist, insecurity filling you whole. “Yes...” You murmur, hoping he won’t question you further than that. 

He breaks eye contact and motions towards the vehicle parked a few feet behind yours, almost like he was calling someone. You watch from the rearview mirror as another figure steps out, this time from the passenger's seat. Their silhouette looked almost entirely black, except for the white on their face that reflected the red and blue lights spinning on the top of the car. The figure’s boots made contact with the ground and crunched softly as they made a few strides towards the other man. “Ran a check, looks good on my end. Yours?” His voice was deep, with an accent behind it that you could only assume was from somewhere in England, something rough and commanding in its tone.

“Can’t say the same,” the taller man speaks out, eyes flickering to yours for a brief moment before quickly shifting away to meet the man standing beside him. The officer with the white mask makes his way toward the other, and as he closes the gap, your mind scrambles to make sense of his appearance. Squinting, you notice that the mask covering his face is white, with strange grooves etched into it that resemble the jagged shape of a skull, deep and haunting. His eyes are like dark, void-like holes that seem to bore right through you as he passes, there’s something unnatural about the way he carries himself, something predatory, and you can’t seem to pry your eyes away.

“What’ve we got ‘ere?” The shorter man, not to imply that his height was by any means unimpressive, chimes, his voice oddly casual. He leans towards the open window of the car, placing one forearm on the side of the metal encasing you safely, almost like a prison.

“Suspected intoxication,” the hooded man speaks up, his tone flat and emotionless. His words hang in the air, each one settling in your chest with an increasing heaviness. The other hums, eyes scanning you once more, but unlike the cold blue ones of the officer standing behind him, his gaze isn’t as icey, there’s something deeper in it, something you can’t quite put your finger on.

“You been drinkin’ sweetheart?” His voice is laced with a syrupy sweetness that makes your stomach flip. The term ‘sweetheart’ rolls off his tongue like a curse, and the word itself feels out of place as if he’s using it to control the situation, to unsettle you. The question hits you hard, and your stomach drops with the weight of an anchor. The unease in your gut tightens into full-blown dread. Something about this doesn’t sit right with you. This isn’t how any regular traffic stop should feel, is it?

When you don’t immediately answer, his voice shatters the silence again, colder now, sharper, “Talk to me.” 

You feel your throat tighten, words barely escaping your lips as you answer meekly, “I haven’t..” It’s almost a whisper, barely audible against the growing noise in your head. The man at your window continues to stare at you, eyes piercing, trying to get a read of the situation, searching for any information he could use against you.

“Ghost.” The voice calls from behind him, a demand. The man you now know as Ghost turns, his posture stiff, his gaze flicking to the other looming behind him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he dismisses, voice laced with annoyance. Shaking his head with a slight scoff, turning back to face you, his eyes crinkle in the corner softly, and you imagine that behind his odd display of a face, is a smile— though something about this situation makes it feel like a threat.

Watching this play out is frightening, to say the least. You feel your pulse quicken, and every second that passes tightens the knot in your stomach. You don’t know if this is the experience most people face when pulled over at night, or if it was just your terrible luck. You don’t have any prior experience to compare it to, but something in your heart screamed at you that this was wrong, something was terribly wrong here.

You stare at Ghost, now leaning forward slightly as he tilts his head. His voice breaks through your racing thoughts, low and silky, “Why doncha step outta the vehicle for us?”

Your body freezes. You aren’t entirely sure why you reacted this way; regardless of what it was, the suffocating feeling, the lead weight against your chest did not waver. Every single instinct inside you is telling you to get out of this situation. 

“Did’ja hear me?” His voice shatters through the silence again, sharper now, and the calm, almost bored tone from before disappears, replaced with a command, “Turn the ignition off, n’ step out, love.”

The instructions linger in the air like a final warning, and despite every fibre of your being telling you to refuse, your shaking hands reach for your keys nestled in the ignition and you twist, the engine dying, along with the lights at the head of your vehicle. Holding the keys in your hand, you step out of the car, hesitantly. Ghost steps back to give you space to open the car door and exit. You stand and immediately notice how he dwarfs your height, looking down at you through his skull mask, arms crossed over his police vest. The red and blue spinning on top of the police car creates a cast of colours, allowing you to still make out the scene in front of you despite the darkness that engulfs the scenery. You notice a dark streak across the white letters that read out ‘POLICE’ across his chest. In blue light, it looks almost black, but as the red circles back around, you make out a faint scarlet colour. 

Blood? 

Your eyes focus on it, your heart skipping a beat. Though the thought barely forms in your head before he speaks again, “Hands against the car, love, turn around.”

You blink, not understanding or comprehending the sudden demand, “What?” You ask, almost automatically, surprised at his sudden order.

“Gonna search’cha. Turn around, hands on the hood of the car. It’s standard protocol, isn’t that right König?” He remarks, turning to look at the man behind him. His words are so casual, so rehearsed, and it takes you a second, but you're suddenly hyper-aware of the looming presence of the larger man, König, who just nods in approval. 

You aren’t well versed in what your rights are exactly, despite seeing countless posts online urging you to become aware in case some cop tries to take advantage of your ignorance. You think back on those moments you’ve scrolled past and feel regret, maybe you should have been more cautious, should have taken some more time to read up on it. The thought of outright saying no flicks through your mind, but it’s gone just as quickly as it came; you’re not entirely sure if you have the right to refuse, so you comply and turn to face your vehicle slowly, moving your arms to place your trembling hands on the hood, still warm from the engine. “Good girl,” he whispers with a growl from behind you.

The words make your skin crawl, sending a wave of nausea through your gut. You want to turn around, stand your ground, and demand answers. You want to scream at him, ask why he pulled you over in the first place, especially here, in this deserted, dark stretch of road. But your body is frozen, your limbs heavy with a deep, paralyzing dread. You can’t speak. You can’t move.

As you find the courage to open your mouth and protest, a wall of muscle presses up behind you— the air is forced out of your lungs in a sharp, startled gasp, and all that escapes your throat is a choked sound, trapped and desperate. It dies instantly at the pressure as if your body knows it’s powerless to stop what’s happening. A nudge from something stiff, something heavy, something warm, presses against your lower back, and the sensation almost makes you fall forward, but you keep your hands on the car, shakily. “What are you doing?” You ask, heat rising to your ears, your voice quiet and cracking, breaking under the weight of the situation.

“Just gonna check ‘ya angel, no need to panic.” Ghost’s voice is smooth as his hands start to move along your sides, gliding over your trembling skin with cold precision as he pushes his hips into you, eliciting another small yelp from you that serves to bring heat straight to your face at the feeling of his hardness against your spine. He then slowly moves down each leg, bending at the knees to pat down your thighs, not before grabbing at the skin, and moving to your ankles. You’re humiliated, and you have to stifle the urge to ask him why this is even necessary. Your top is small, and your pants are tight against your skin, they’d be able to see if you had anything in your pockets, concealed away. His leather-clad hands are along your body. And then, he stands back up, his hands lingering near your stomach, just shy of touching your chest. You can feel the tension hanging between you two, the thin line between a normal pat-down and something much worse. His fingers hover, almost hesitant as if testing the waters, “You don’t mind, do ya?” 

You blink at this, your head spinning. Is this normal? He asked for permission, didn’t he? Maybe you’re overthinking. Maybe he’s just doing his job, and you’re just nervous. But the doubt gnaws at you. You’ve heard of cops acting imposing, standing tall with a panoptic gaze, demanding submission without ever needing to speak a word. You’ve heard stories of them using that authority to cross boundaries with people— no, to break them entirely.

You’ve always struggled with confrontation. You’ve tended to let things slide before and made excuses for bad behaviour. It’s like a habit, but this, this is different. This is too much. The unease deepens into something darker. Something inside you screams to fight back, to speak up, to demand that they stop.

But all that comes out is a whisper, barely audible, “I’m a little uncomfortable.” The words feel weak, but you force them out, your voice trembling. You hope that’s enough— that the honesty will be enough to make him stop.

He was teetering the edge of patting you down, and groping you; you’re not sure if this is what a standard pat down is considered to be. You’ve seen people get checked at the airport after stepping through the scanners, lighting up with a flash, at the indication that something was out of place— it was quick, fast, non-invasive. But this. This felt like he was about to grab at your very soul, so tightly that it might as well burst in his hands, deflating any sense of pride or dignity you had left with a harsh crack and spill of the contents. “Poor thing’s uncomfortable,” Ghost murmurs with a frown, turning to look at König.

The other man doesn’t say anything at first, his towering figure casting a long shadow over you, but when he speaks, his voice is commanding, “Enough, Ghost.” Relief surges through you as Ghost steps back, his lips curling slightly in irritation as he clicks his tongue, finally, some distance. But your pulse doesn’t slow; it races, your heart still pounding in your ears, as the confusion and fear hang thick in the air, choking the space around you. Maybe they’ve decided to let you go now, but something in you tells you this isn't over. 

Your thoughts are silenced as your hands are suddenly grabbed from where they were resting, being maneuvered roughly behind your back. The sudden action makes you lose balance and fall forward with a yelp. When you make a move to straighten your torso up, a hand reaches the nape of your neck to keep you pinned to the hood of your car roughly, your chest and side of your face becoming dirty with the dust covering your vehicle. The taller man leans over your body, and you’re brought to your tippy toes as he does this, his erection pushing harshly against your ass. The cloth on his face drapes over your shoulder as he brings his mouth close to your ear, “You’re too soft with her, asking if it’s okay if she doesn’t mind. Slut like her doesn’t care about shit like that. Look at what she’s wearing… Begging for it, on display for us.” The way he spoke into your ear made your heart seize up. He spoke directly to you, but referred to you in the second person, dehumanizing you even further, not even addressing you as equal to them. This was beyond humiliating, beyond anything you would have expected. 

“Get off of me,” you protest, with a tone less than convincing. The one holding you down laughs, a chuckle breaking through his throat.

He thinks this is some kind of joke. 

“Fuck, Ghost,” he chortles, the sound low and sinister, dripping with mockery. “You should see how she’s trembling under me right now. It’s pathetic,” His voice cuts through the stillness, like a sharp blade, and the way he savours the words makes your stomach churn. Each laugh feels like a slap to your senses, echoing in your skull, ringing louder than the panic surging through your veins.

“Fucking bitch doesn’t even know we aren’t actually cops,” he says, and just like that, the ground shifts beneath your feet and your entire world is upside down. Your breath has ceased, and your lungs feel as if they were taken straight out of your ribcage. “We put on a good show for you though, right? Pulling you over like that? Saying you were going 30 over, Ghost saying he ran a check on you.”  A laugh spills from his lips again, thick with satisfaction, and every syllable feels like it's pulling you deeper into a pit of dread.

It’s as if time stops. The world tilts sideways, and your body goes cold. The weight of his words presses down on you, and you realize, with sickening clarity, that everything you thought you understood was a lie. The badge, the uniforms, the flashing lights— all of it was just a performance. A sick game.

“Cops in this area have no backbone,” König starts, with a sickening satisfaction lingering on the ends of his words, “They were so easy to take down too, Schatz, you have no idea.” Another laugh billows out from his chest, “Where else do you think we got this uniform from? The cruiser?” 

Your heart is pounding so loudly, and everything starts to click. The blood on Ghost’s vest, you should have known. You want to move, to escape, but your body feels like stone. The world around you is suddenly too small, suffocating like the walls are closing in with every laugh, every word. You want to scream, but the sound won’t come. A tear runs down the bridge of your nose and König hums, leaning in close to you to breathe in the scent of your fear, “Love breaking girls like you, fuck.”

Ghost remains silent in the corner, his eyes watching, but you can’t tell if he’s complicit or detached from the cruel charade. You’re too far gone to care now. All that matters is the cold truth sinking into you like a heavyweight. Your mouth goes dry, the room spinning as the sick realization settles in harshly. You weren’t just caught in a trap. You were the prey, and every moment of this has been designed to break you, to twist you into their game.

Your eyes look backwards to meet Ghost’s, and you plead to him with begging eyes, for him to say anything, to get the man on top of you off, give you some sense of respite, some room to breathe, some time to process what is happening. As you thought you were starting to make progress, looking at Ghost with such a sad, pleading look, König notices and glares down at you. He leans into your ear again and speaks words that make you feel like you’ve died, a million times over and over again, “Oh Schatz,” he chuckles with a small sigh, sounding almost disappointed at your display, “Don’t look at him like that, he’s just waiting his turn.”

[rimatsu]

Ok convince me to reject caution and embrace delusion. Why are you so hopeful? 

the safe bet is definitely caution. but regardless of initial intentions, nothing is ever set in stone in the 911 writing room and that’s reason enough to remain hopeful. still, when people say the chances of a reconciliation are non-zero, i think that’s low-balling it. at the very least, we’re at 10% chance, 90% faith.

granted the interviews i (unwillingly) absorbed via osmosis don't exactly inspire confidence but again: 1) tim is fickle as the wind and writers can change their minds at the drop of a hat, 2) nothing that was directly stated by actors or showrunner contradicts the idea of a makeup arc, 3) if the breakup was intentionally designed as a temporary hurdle they’d imply otherwise anyway (oh god i sound like Them don't i.... this is a cry for help)

the reasons why 8x06 could qualify as a temporary split have been extensively discussed so i’ll try to be brief (spoiler: i failed) before tackling what i’d like to see in 8b. buckle up buttercup, i’m a yapper:

1) the breakup wasn’t written as definitive or unfixable. buck and tommy didn’t part because of irreconcilable differences or because passion/attraction fizzled out. if they wanted that door closed, tommy could’ve simply said he was uninterested in pursuing long term commitment with buck, that they’re not compatible in the long run — there: a clean, uncomplicated break. instead, we’re told that tommy desperately wants to be the person buck settles down with, but he’s convinced buck is propelled by the excitement of novelty, that he suspects buck is latching onto him for the wrong reasons, that he can’t allow himself to merge their home life together in fear he’ll never recover once buck wants out. the implications here being tommy is in love with buck already. for his part, buck came to the realization that he wants a future with tommy and immediately decided to pursue it because that's just the type of man he is: never one to do things by half-measures, seeing no value in waiting once his mind is made up. so there’s no conflicting desire there. they want the same thing: permanence with each other. the next two episodes also paint a strange picture if the goal is a definitive separation. buck bakes excessively in an attempt to cope when he never needed a coping mechanism following a breakup before, and we’re told several times that he wants to reach out — in fact buck was about to reach out until he was physically stopped. in total, 3 tommy mentions so far. usually we get the one and then buck moves on to greener pastures (abby notwithstanding, but she's an exception and not the rule, main character privilege and all). we were even deliberately shown that tommy considered contacting buck on his own. that's establishing regret and a desire for reconnection on both sides of the equation. again, that’s a never seen before: tommy is an outlier. completely unnecessary if the breakup is a done deal. whether they follow it through or not, the aftermath was written in such a way that there’s ground for a reconciliation if needs be

2) this is the first buck break up to happen during the first act of the season, something that’s normally reserved for the finale for maximum impact. why this distinction? strange placement for the end of a romantic storyline if you ask me.

3) they're never going to replicate a LI that checks out as many boxes as tommy does, or recapture the romcom magic that was 7x04-7x06. and it's fine if they don't, not all endgame romances need to be the most memorable of the bunch, but it'd be stupid to let the remaining potential go to waste. it's undeniable, the show is nearing its end, i don't imagine they get renewed past s10. if they go the natalia route again and introduce a LI at the last moment, it's going to pale in comparison to the other viable option, one that has pre-established history and connection to buck/the 118. inadvertently or not, they set up an epic love story of intertwined fate. tommy has literally haunted the narrative since the pilot: one of the very first thing abby reveals is that she’s not over tommy breaking off their (retconned) engagement. as such, tommy has played a pivotal role in shaping buck into the man he is today: if tommy hadn’t transferred out to harbor station, buck wouldn’t have found his family and his life purpose. if tommy hadn’t left abby, buck wouldn’t have realized that emotional intimacy and romantic connection is what he seeks. if tommy hadn’t kissed him, a huge part of buck’s identity would’ve remained buried and unexplored. how are they possibly going to top a red string theory dating back 8 seasons? they can’t. i’m sure they’re aware of that.

4) why bring our attention to tommy’s admiration and envy for a tight-knit unit like the 118, on three separate occasions, if the ultimate goal isn’t to reward him and integrate him into the makeshift family?

5) idk what it's worth, if it's worth anything at all, but there’s been a substantial amount of displeasure voiced over their breakup. tommy is buck’s most well-received LI to date. they took a risk with the Big Bisexual Reveal and it paid off with increased engagement and viewership. if they were still debating a reconciliation, surely they've heard that at least some people will eagerly welcome a makeup arc with open arms.

i'm a broken record so i'm probably repeating myself but here goes my ideal timeline for the rest of the season (not a speculation, not wishful thinking, but a secret third thing):

i'm gonna operate under the assumption that the breakup happened solely so buck could be at his lowest for the kidnapping plot line with a minimal/reduced support system (no boyfriend AND no best friend around when his pregnant sister is abducted). in other words, i don't think buck will be in a place to venture back into the dating world by 8x09-8x10 quite yet (i don’t actually buy the buck-dates-the-serial-killer theory). he's handled the breakup fairly well but now with the kidnapping & eddie gone/in the process of moving, i assume that's when he really starts to spiral.

(if we get a fourth tommy mention here, i'd say it's a promising sign. it’d be a purposeful way to keep him in viewers’ radar after the 4-month break)

i think getting maddie back after a few days of fear and uncertainty will be a breakthrough for buck and he’ll make a conscious decision to move on from his funk by the end of 8x10.

ideally “jumping back into the pond” would take place in 8x11 to 8x13, starting with a comedic montage of buck in a string of various failed dates. this is the part of the season where i expect him to utter the word bisexual, probably when the topic of exes comes into play. every other queer identity in the show gets labeled and stated in no uncertain terms, but bisexuality is ever only vaguely implied (nancy in ls) or shown but not explicitly spoken (buck and eva). it’s frustrating. personally i choose to believe buck’s lackluster reaction to maddie’s questionable “how many men did she turn gay?” joke was intentional on the writers’ part. it was the perfect opportunity to reaffirm his sexuality but buck didn’t bc he's not fully in tune with his queerness yet. yeah he speedran through his coming out but recalibrating your entire identity after 3 decades of presumed heterosexuality is a complex process rifled with ups and downs. i hope it gets explored with more care and depth in future episodes.

supposedly we know two things: the fling is another form of coping mechanism, and it's short-lived. chances are it's going to be a woman, and i'd love for it to be a bi girl bc 1) yay bi4bi m/f representation, 2) he's dating someone who can intimately relate to his experience and can maybe offer some additional clarity where clarity is still needed.

my other preferred scenario is that he meets a guy who immediately clocks that buck is still hung up on his ex and not emotionally available for anything more than casual fun. basically give buck a sex friend who can expose him to the LA gay scene. if my memory serves me right, OS said he'd like to see buck in queer spaces. i would like to see it too (we could’ve had that exploration with tommy but i digress….)

long story short, he eventually meets someone he has chemistry with, but it's still not as easy or companionable or butterfly-inducing as it was with tommy. buck gets back home from the seemingly successful date and he just... starts baking — wordlessly communicating to the audience that he’s still plagued by Tommy Thoughts.

now if i put on my clown shoes, i’d say the bts pictures of the 217 engines suggest an upcoming bucktommy reunion on a call (surely they were made for a reason. right. RIGHT????), ideally in 8x14. i’ve babbled about it here, but the sparknotes version is:

- there's a 5 alarm high-rise fire requiring ground and aerial ops. tommy is tasked with delivering firefighters to the roof, including the 118. the chopper ride to destination is understandably awkward but professional enough

- tommy joins ground ops once he’s completed his maximum hours of flight. he ends up trapped in a pocket of rubbles with buck after a partial structural collapse. that’s when they hash it out. it’s not pretty: they’re on edge and exhausted and full of adrenaline and words aren’t sugarcoated or minced. but they’re honest, and afterward they understand each other’s perspective.

it has been said before, but i don't think buck registered the underlying message of the breakup. we know he doesn't handle rejection well, and it's likely he was so hyperfocused on being told no that he didn’t compute the “no matter how much i want to be (your last)” part. that’d explain the 118’s strange response to the split. if i was told “my boyfriend broke up with me because he thinks i'll eventually break his heart once i figure out he's not who i truly want” i’d strongly advise communication before calling it quit prematurely. but if my friend told me “my boyfriend broke up with me when i asked him to move in bc he doesn't think we'll last bc i don’t know what i want” i would trust that they relayed the correct story and i too would discourage contact.

anyway buck has stated that he doesn’t want to chase after someone who doesn’t want him before, but now he knows that wanting was never the issue with tommy, that the breakup was fueled by insecurities and fears and trauma rather than disinterest. at first, it’s presented as reaching a necessary closure: once the fire is contained, buck and tommy part way with another “see you around, buck. i truly hope you find what you’re looking for” and a bittersweet smile. except now buck has had another breakthrough, he’s full of renewed resolved and clarity, and he’s ready to fight for this relationship, so he shows up at tommy’s doorstep the next night and pleads his case.

in 8x15-8x16, we see them readjust to being a couple except this time, it's with the knowledge that they both want serious in the long run. maybe they discover facets of each other previously kept under wraps for the sake of 'keeping it light and breezy'. also they fuck/fade to black on screen (this is imperative)

the last two episodes are focused on the closing disaster, whatever that might be. in this hypothetical timeline, we get a few more glimpses of domesticity. maybe even establish the setup for a move-in next season when bucktommy discuss buck’s lease.

you can have the helicopter crash as a treat for s9. once they're truly settled with each other and it's bound to be more devastating.

voilà <3 apologies and congratulations for your perseverance if you made it this far. the answer was never supposed to be this lengthy or tangencial oops can you tell i’m obsessed. terminally ill even

[fan-goddess]

A Rose by Any Other Name…

Original Request: Is tagged here if ya wanna read :)

Authors Note: I'm so mixed with this i love some parts yet hate others it's 50/50. Other than that though I adore this au request and hope i did it justice. Just a headsup they're ngl both toxic stupid younglings.

Word count: 9k words (wow...)

Taglist: @humanpurposes @watercolorskyy, @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee

Warnings: Pain, chronic pain, pain flare ups due to chronic pain, soulmates, fluff, angst, actually loving parents, not really a mention of her features only eyes, called a woman and referred to as she/her pronouns, self ableism, a more darker!aemond, implied abuse of royal power, Aemond ngl being lowkey toxic so they both stupid af (if I miss any let me know)

When first learning about soulmates and the fates which follow them, you had prayed to all the seven gods that you would never be misfortune enough to have one. That you should never feel the pain your soulmate felt with flowers marking your skin.

Your mother did not have one, nor did your father or any of your relatives before them, as according to them the whole thing was actually quite rare among the whole of the seven kingdoms.

Though you suppose you never had been very lucky. It was probably what praying to the stranger did to you.

Your first encounter with those damn deep blue flowers that stung while they branded you was on your legs and your abdomen. According to your septas and the lone maester who was permitted to treat your marks, they looked like marks given to a boy beginning his training in combat.

To them, this was seen as an honor, as it meant if you ever got the opportunity to meet him he could protect you. But to you, this merely meant that you were going to need to get used to that incessant stinging. They never knew what it felt like to feel those damn flowers plaguing your body, but not even you knew how to fully describe what it was like. The only way you could even dare think about it if you were truly forced too, was that it was a death sentence.

You never thought through the few years that passed after making the discovery of possessing a soulmate that the pain could get quite worse. But it appears like always, the idea of luck was not on your side.

It was a strange feeling to wake to a flower blooming on the skin of your left eye. The pain was what you focused on most however, as to be awoken to what you could only describe as being fire scorching your skin was something you could never truly describe but know for the rest of your life. Compared to your earlier marks and the pains that came with them, those were merely like when the septas would swiftly hit the ruler over your knuckles.

While you screamed and writhed in pain in your childhood bed, the maester took quick work in forcing milk of the poppy down your aching throat while the small group of septas held back your worrying mother and father who stood scared in the doorway. The medicines effects soon took its place though to yours and everyone's relief, and you were taken in some sort of daze like sleep.

When you awoke a few hours later with your head still fuzzy and a cooling salve slathered patch over your eye, your father was sitting on a chair propped to the edge of the bed tightly holding your hand while your mother slept beside you above the covers.

"Oh my darling, we were so worried!" Your father said, pulling you into a close embrace that woke your mother up from her sleep. By the way the skin underneath her eyes was darkened and how she yawned as soon as she sat up, you could tell she had been trying to stay up all night for you, and the very idea of it made you smile with gratitude you knew other children did not possess. "You gave us such a fright when we heard you screaming so late at night! What happened?"

"I... I do not know father," You said truthfully, your hand unconsciously going to remove the patch from your eye, but stopping when your father grabs your hand and gives you a stern glare that reminds you of your youth, specifically whenever you would steal an extra lemon bar after dinner. "All I remember is falling asleep and then waking to this horrendous pain in my eye and all around it..."

You have a faraway look in your eye as you find yourself unable to look at your mother and fathers lingering questioning gaze. They may not have ever said it, but you can tell that they pity you greatly for the path the gods have pushed you on. You thought this soulmate of yours was some training knight-to-be. But what knight-to-be experienced battle as harsh as having damage to his eye as horrific as you felt it to be? It did possibly occur to you that your soulmate may actually be a hardened knight with years of experience on the battlefield. But after bringing up the concern with your maester, he assured you that the marks you bore would be a lot worse if he was truly some older knight, a kingsguard or even a goldcloak.

Later that day after being ordered to eat lots to restore your energy, your maester came by that evening to visit and check on your mark. His words were kind as he assured you it would've most likely gone down in its intensity since you barely felt anything now except some throbbing from your socket. According to him, while you lay screaming from the pain, a deep blue flower had taken over your entire socket where the pain had bloomed from, in a strange fascinating way making your eye its center.

His touch was gentle as he slowly peeled back the fabric. Yet his face which once held a supportive smile turns to shock and pure horror once you tilted your head up to look at him.

“Maester, what is the matter?” You ask, biting your lip in pure anxiety as he says nothing but stares at your eye. He does not even look away as he grabs a mirror by your bedside table and hands it too you.

When you look into it though, you do not realize what is so wrong except for some small petal edges that leak from around your eye. But then you look more closely and realize with a loud gasp how your once green eye is now a deep blue, and when you close it you gasp again as you comprehend how now a flower has bloomed on your eyelid.

“What… what has happened, maester?!” You yell, unable to look away from your newly changed face.

“I do not know exactly my lady,” The maester begins, forcibly snatching the mirror from your hands so you’re forced to look at him and listen. “The whole written topic of soulmates to my knowledge is so little given at how rare they are, so there is truly not much advice to give you. The basic idea though as I told you when your condition first developed, is that when he is in pain, you are to have a flower bloom on your skin where the pain originates. There is no record I’m afraid of this condition affecting the physical body except from the blooming flowers and the pain that comes with it.”

You stay quiet as you listen to the maester, tears build up as you realize your life shall not be the same. While the idea of having two different coloured eyes is a condition seen around the seven kingdoms, it is still a noticeable thing that would draw attention of the people.

And honestly, you were not sure if you wanted to meet your soulmate. This latest development in your condition is so new and so frightening. Though you must say you cannot help but feel sorry for the soul the gods have promised you too. While what you felt was agony, you have no idea how much it must’ve hurt for your soulmate at that moment.

Over the next few days, you were closely monitored by the maester, the septa’s and your parents who all were anxious to see if the flower on your eye would slowly go down like the other flowers did when the pain disappeared or if it would remain. And much to yours and everyone around you's annoyance, it very much stayed bright and clear on your skin no matter what ointment or potion was used to clear it.

On the fourth day after the incident, as your father called it, a maid who was one of the few with knowledge of your condition came into your chambers with your morning meal, and some important news.

“My lady,” she began, practically sweating as she placed the tray in front of you. “There has been a recent development in regard to your soulmate's identity.”

Since the pain you felt was the most extreme you had ever felt, your father had felt the need to hire some men to investigate to see if this new information would reveal your soulmate's identity, even though the chance of finding an answer was slim to none. Though you suppose there was never a zero percent chance, as proven by the fact there was according to the maid, a recent development.

“What is it?” You ask, biting into the lemon cake first and savoring the sweet yet sour taste on your tongue. “What has my father discovered that he does not feel the need to come tell me himself?”

“Well…” She stumbles, even stepping back a small step as she instinctively looks to the ground. “It turns out that the same day you had that incident my lady, the prince Aemond Targaryen had his eye taken by his young nephew Lucerys, and it was reported to your father that the damage was so bad the eye had to be removed and the socket sewn up.”

The cake that once laid in your hand falls back onto the plate. Your mouth like the cake falls open in the same undignified manner as you cannot believe the words you are hearing.

“Prince Aemond Targaryen?” You find yourself asking in a breathless tone, silent as the maid nods her head.

“May I be dismissed now, my lady?” She asks, knocking you out of a daze you hadn’t even realized you had fallen into. You nod in answer and watch as she leaves, leaving you in silence and your own thoughts that begin to run rampant.

You were soulmates with the Prince! A Targaryen Prince! You heard that out of his three siblings he was the only one with no dragon, but you honestly did not care if he did or did not as either way he was still a man of honor. When thinking of the injuries you received over the years, you cannot help but think of how it made sense.

You knew princes received special training similarly to that of young knights, so when the maester said that the injuries matched up with them made sense. Yet to hear of the Prince's injury that perfectly synced with your own, that was what finally made it all make sense.

You lay backwards in your bed, and allowed the anxiety to wash over your body. The food lay to waste against the covers as you thought only of what your future could hold as a wife of royalty. Of how you would never be a true lady of the court and in the end would no doubt bring about disgrace to your husband's name. Of how in the end compared to your soulmate, the Targaryen warrior, you are just a woman from a lower house who could not bring anything into the marriage but your empty womb.

The next few years after the realization of your soulmate, you spent your time attempting to convince your father not to pursue a marriage between yourself and the Prince. But to your surprise and happiness, your father agreed to not pursue anything marriage related to you without so much of a fuss, even when you, your father and even your mother knew how much a marriage between you and the Prince would help your house bloom in both social standing and resources.

You felt selfish in your insistence of your future, but your father was adamant in telling you that he was not angry in your decision and if anything he was proud to see you so passionate about your decisions.

Your mother much to your delight seemed to agree with you, which probably the main if not the only reason was why your father acted so calmly. According to her you were too young for marriage, which to most people seeing as your mother and father were married quite young it may be seen as hypocritical. But those people were not there to witness all the times your mother gripped her stomach and dreamed of the brothers and sisters you lost on the birthing bed and before.

You were sure not to injure yourself too greatly in fear of that, like how you found out Prince Aemond, he would discover your true identity and come to your doors to claim you in the same way his elder brother Prince Aegon supposedly claimed the ladies of the red keep. 

Yet like all those years ago the night when you realized your eye hard turned blue. The gods were not on your side.

You scream as the pain quickly makes itself known in your arm forcing you to forget anything you’ve ever known other than that overwhelming seering sensation. The tears mask your ability to see the blood pooling up from your skin, and you can hear muffled running in the distance as well as the sound of panicked shouting from the familiar voices of the septas you made such close acquaintances with all those years ago.

You can feel their hands grabbing you, but nothing beats the pain that you cannot even begin to put into words. The maester is by your side as soon as you’re brought to the healing room, and his old wrinkled touch is distinct on your skin as he tries to find the blue flowers he has become so familiar with. Only he does not find blue. Only red. Which is the color of your blood that dyes his fingernails and the tips of his cloak crimson.

Like all those years ago, milk of the poppy is brought to your lips and you are forced to swallow hard and quick. The familiar daze returns as you quickly become numb to the feeling of the sharp needle piercing your skin as the maester attempts to fix you.

You stayed in that bed for at least a day or two before you came too again, but at this point you are used to being there within those familiar walls.

According to the maester, at the height at which you fell from the tree you were climbing in, the tree you were in fact always forbidden to climb but ignored thinking you were safe, you broke your arm clean in two. Apparently the bone had managed to pierce your skin, which is why there had been so much blood. So in order to allow it to heal properly he formed a special layer of hardened protection to stop the arm from any unnecessary movements that could cause further damage to the arm.

As he tells you this, you cannot help but think of how the Prince is thinking right now. Did he get that same piercing pain in his arm too? Did the flowers bloom the same way yours did whenever he managed to harm himself? Were his flowers even the same color as your own? You felt so deep in thought you barely even heard your mother come in to visit.

“My love?” She says, taking your hand in hers and drawing you out from your thoughts. “How are you faring?”

“I am alright mother. The pain is gone, all thanks to the maester.” You say, simply reassuring her as she looks at you carefully to assess whether you lie or not. Yet as she does this you cannot help but notice a distinct figure missing right now. “Where is father?” You cannot help but ask, curious in his whereabouts.

“He went to Kingslanding my love. Do you not remember?” She asks, lips pursed in a sad smile. “You were all set to go with him this morning but since your fall, he was forced to go alone. He sends his best though and wishes that you find a fast recovery, which is seems you have managed to accomplish my strong girl.”

“Oh yes…” You say, remembering she was in fact right. “I suppose I forgot. I did hit my head when I fell.” As soon as you say the words you instantly wince with regret. As before you can even try and defend yourself your mother calls the maester back in and demands a series of further assessments to be done. You sigh as you fall back and your head hits the pillow. This is going to be a long day.

Your father, as he traveled along the road into kingslanding, felt guilt gnawing at his chest for leaving you behind whilst you laid in that healing bed. When he left, you had been in a deep sleep so he had been unable to say goodbye. So he kissed your forehead and squeezed the hand on your unbroken arm and left you to sleep. The guilt remains, but he knows that whilst you lay in that bed you are surrounded and are safer in the presence of your mother and the maester and septas, who overtime have managed to gain much more insight than the majority of people into the topic of soulmates.

As they are so rare, they are viewed as freaks, even though he personally believes that they should be celebrated for being looked upon so greatly by the gods that they have been given a person cut from the same cloth.

When he looks at his own wife, who has given him such light from the darkness of his own life, he likes to think she is his soulmate with or without the flowers blooming on her skin. To him, she is just as beautiful as a fresh bloomed flower after all.

When he exits his carriage down the steps, the queen awaits him with only two of her children standing beside her, and he notices immediately that it is Aemond who is currently absent.

“Will the Prince Aemond not be joining us?” He finds himself asking, eyes widening slightly as he remembers that he is in the presence of royalty. Not some fellow lord whose son is out sleeping away his hangover after fucking a dozen whores.

“No, I'm afraid not Lord Fletcher. My son awoke this morn with a dreadful headache as the maester and he has told me, so he will be staying in his chambers for the duration of the meeting. Probably even for long after you’ve left I’m afraid.” The queen Alicent says, a smile on her face that he immediately knows is forced and strained. After all, he has had to make similar lies when people at the gatherings expect to see you and don’t.

“Ahh, I understand my queen. My own daughter has the same issue with her own health. Some days she wakes as healthy as can be then the next she’s laying in her bed writhing from the worst of pains.” He says, not entirely lying as he remembers those exact moments happening to you as you grew up.

“Ah yes well still we thank you for your understanding.” She smiles again, motioning for him to come and follow her into the castle. “Shall we get down to business?”

The next few hours are spent with him, the queen, and a few other notable house lords debating in the council room. At times the table becomes heated as words are thrown without proper caution, but the Queen always lets a small yet loud cough to remind the men of their place. So to his amusement whenever this happens, the men immediately even when their voices before could shake a mountain, quieten down like freshly stuck dogs denied a newly cut piece of prime steak.

Just as though another annoyingly arrogant man from House Lannister demands to know why his house is in need of paying more of its gold to a lord from House Tarly, the doors burst open, and the second born son of the king walks through as though he was born to strut. As the prince he sits down in the end chair of the council table with all eyes on him, Lord Fletcher cannot help but think about how as soon as he gets home he cannot wait to tell you of how this was the first time he met your soulmate.

“Are you feeling alright my Prince?” He finds himself asking, raising a brow as he turns to the Queen, whose own face holds embarrassment and shock to see her son sitting there before her. “The Queen had told me when I arrived that you were not going to attend today's meeting due to a headache?”

The Prince looks at his mother with what could only be called disdain, and it appears to make her slouch back into her seat while she takes her hand in her own and begins to pick at the nail. It honestly reminds him of how you bite your lips half bloody in your own strange anxiety relieving way.

“I am afraid my mother is mistaken my Lord Fletcher,” The prince simply says. “I merely overdid myself when training with the sword yesterday. I was waiting for the maester to visit so he could give me something to relieve the pain. I do apologize for my tardiness.”

“Oh there is no issue at all my prince.” Lord Fletcher says, an attempt of a smile on his lips. Though he soon becomes distracted when he sees Aemonds eye wander around all those in the room, as if to take some sort of strange attendance record.

“Is your daughter not with you today?” Aemond finally speaks, meeting his eye with Lord Fletcher's own two while he stares him down. “I went to visit my sister before this meeting thinking she would be there so I could greet her and welcome her to kingslanding. But my sister tells me she has never met your daughter. Why is that?”

The Queen Alicent perks from her seat as she remembers now finally remembers the information that had been picking at her all day. “Oh yes my lord pray tell, where is she? I had been so looking forward to introducing her to my only daughter. I had thought the two would get along quite well.”

Lord Fletcher attempts to laugh to ease the sudden tension in the room, but it appears to if anything makes it worse as no faces change from their stoney exterior.

“I’m afraid the day before our departure, my dear daughter had an accident that quite badly injured her arm, the same arm in fact you say to have harmed during your training my prince!” Again he laughs, but that does not stop him from seeing the look the prince and queen share with each other.

It appears the prince is more aware than he thought with the motion of soulmates, though it does make sense when thinking of all the things he’d heard of the one-eyed prince. He is a scholarly boy, so it’d make sense for him to research and look in depth into all the possible books about soulmates the royal library or even the citadel have to offer. He even has the Grand Maester at his beck and call, who no doubt has more information on the topic than anyone else.

“Tell me my lord, how did your daughter have such an accident?” The prince asks as he leans forward so far in anticipation he looks to be at the edge of his seat. “It must’ve been from quite a great height for her to have received such injuries. I do hope she has a quick recovery.”

“Thank you my prince, it means a lot to hear from you. As for how she fell, I believe she was climbing in a tree somewhere on our land when she fell and broke a bone in her arm, the end of which pierced her skin just between her elbow and arm socket, or so our maester told me before I left. I worry about her recovery yes, but I know she is in the hands of a capable maester so I do not doubt she will be feeling much better soon.”

The Prince appears to squint slightly at Lord Fletcher before looking back to his mother. It almost looks like there is a silent conversation between the two, and it’s only interrupted by small tilts of heads by the both of them. It was strange yet interesting to watch.

The Prince hums his final response to the once silent conversation before looking back at Lord Fletcher. “Well as she was unable to make the journey with you to Kingslanding, I suppose I shall have to make the journey to your own home and in a way being Kingslanding to her.”

The silence rings throughout the council room again, with even the queen looking at her son in shock. The councilmen who’d been long forgotten don’t dare attempt to speak a single word since the prince's declaration, which only further proves Lord Fletcher's idea that they’re all idiots in their own rights.

“Are you sure my Prince?” He asks, “Tis I’m sure a tedious journey for you and your dragon-“

“Tis no issue!” Aemond interrupts sharply, his tone firm and assertive. “You are set to travel back home the next morn by carriage I hear. So I shall travel by Vhagar tonight so I may spend the night and meet your daughter in the morn. Is that sufficient enough for you my lord?”

The Prince does not leave room for an answer, as before Lord Fletcher can even open his mouth the Prince already has left the room leaving all councilman members and his mother in shock at the turn of events. And while he feels that same shock, he also cannot help but feel fearful as he knows it’s with his words alone what drove the Prince to commit such quick actions.

He can only dread to think about how the introduction between you and the prince will turn out.

When you awoke the morning after your father had left for Kingslanding, the thing that struck most odd with you were the maids. They looked more fearful than you had ever seen them, and they even avoided eye contact with you, which was odd as by now they had all gotten used to your eye.

“What is the matter with all of you?” You spit, glaring at all the ladies who even after you confronting them refuse to look you in the eyes.

They stay silent as they continue to stare at the stone floor, until finally one of the more recent of the lot breaks the silence.

“The Prince is here, my lady.”

Any anger you felt before this moment disappears soon as it brews and instead is replaced by only stone cold fear.

“He cannot see me…” You murmur, seeing the ladies agree and nod out the corner of your eye. “The Prince cannot see me!”

“He specifically spoke of you when he arrived, my lady,” The maid continues, slowly looking up to stare pitifully at your practically trembling form. You can feel yourself begin to chew at the skin of your inner lip, and yet if anything it encourages you to continue when you start to taste the familiar tang of copper smear on your tongue. “Claims that whenever you wake he wishes for you to join him to break fast together as soon as possible.”

The more this lady speaks the more your gut turns and twists within your body. By now the taste of copper gushes down your throat yet you welcome it gladly, even refusing the goblet one of the other more meeker maids offered you to wash the taste away when they saw red begin to stain your outer lip.

“I have to hide it.” You find yourself firmly saying as you look at one of the older ladies. “Tell me, do we keep any veils that are out of use?”

When the prince awoke within the unfamiliar comfort of the bed with a tired groan building within the back of his throat, it is the memory of the council meeting from the day before that floods his mind, forcing the once tired and sore body into being now quick and alert with excitement and anxiety.

When Aemond was but a young boy, he remembers during one of his lessons on the reign of Maegor feeling a sharp stinging in his knuckles. When he looked down, much to his shock and horror, he saw that light blue flowers were blooming across the pale skin. As much as the initial sight had shocked him dreadfully at first, Aemond could not help but think of that day during later years fondly. As that was the day he realized that maybe after the gods had given him, he was not truly alone.

The Grand Maester had told him everything he himself knew about the topic, and even sent a raven to the citadel to request books speaking of the tales written in the texts. According to him, Aemond was the first in a long time to come forward about possessing one.

Aemond prayed to the gods to meet them soon, but no matter how much he got on his knees no matter how many times he held his hands together in the grand sept with his mother next to him, no girl ever came forward to claim him.

And by the next year, Aemond felt more alone than ever before.

His flowers were never to be allowed to be seen in the eyes of anyone other than his family, a select few maids and the grand maester of course. This was because according to his grandsire, fathers from all across the realm would put their daughters forward claiming to be his soulmate. Also, if it was discovered he had a soulmate, those same fathers may not deem him suitable for marriage if he will abandon his wife for another woman. It was better to hide, so a marriage could be insured and an heir to his name.

Though any thought of a good tempered wife or even a marriage that could soon turn to affection was gone the moment Lucerys stole his eye. He does not remember much other than the pain, but what comes to mind is the thought in the back of his head hoping his soulmate would be alright. Praying that she would not hate him and would still love him even after now being turned into a cripple.

That day he may have lost an eye, but he gained a dragon. He gained the strength to protect his soulmate, and that to him was all that mattered, other than the protection of his mother. Somehow at that moment as she stood there before him, she looked more vulnerable than he did.

While Aemond lay in his bed healing, his mind turned to his soulmate as he remembered the reasoning behind the flowers. The flowers bloom where pain on the other person blooms, in an assurance that they are not alone in this world. Aemond could not help but think it all as a cruel sort of joke, especially as the pain in his eye begins to slowly throb. Yet a part of him is still thrilled to know that even though the Gods have cruelly broken him and built him back up again, there is a person given to him who will share his pain and see him for what he is.

He became even more desperate to discover you as soon as he was fully healed. He called the Grand Maester as soon as he spotted the familiar blue coloring on his skin, and together they looked over each inch of petal extensively until they day turned to night and the oil in the lamps burned out.

According to him, they were marks like that of a piece of wood struck on the knuckles. Which makes sense as Aemond remembers all the times Aegon would fall asleep soon as lessons started, and halfway through a particularly menacing Maester would strike him with a sort of smooth wooden object directly on the knuckles to wake him. It would be a sight that made Aemond smugly smile while he completed all the necessary work and chuckle at later, but thinking of that same treatment happening to his lady made his heart clench in his chest.

Nowadays, whenever he found himself getting injured, whether that is simply a bruise from training with Ser Cole or a sudden onslaught of inner pain in his eye socket, in his mind he always found himself apologizing at the back of his mind for causing pain for his lady. He finds himself wishing he was better in lessons so he could have avoided the swords, wishing he had fought better in the caves against his nephews and cousins so he wasn’t missing his eye. Whatever the situation, Aemond always craved that he was better. And found at the center of it all it was all for her.

He remembers his three and ten name day much too clearly. It lingers in the back of his mind like a plague. The salty stench of the air. The taste of the cheap alcohol Aegon had forced him to consume as according to him, the act was better when a person is left in a daze. The feeling of that woman’s too warm skin. The sound of her supposedly seductive voice that instead of arousing him only managed to make him further horrified. All of it stayed with him for years sticking to his skin.

Though the part which struck out most for him were the thoughts he could not help but think as that woman sunk down on him and robbed him of any free will. The realization that he would not be able to stay chaste for his soulmate. The idea that maybe she would not want to be with him once she found that her soulmate had laid with filthy whores paid by the go to fuck all sorts of men.

He ran out of that place as soon as the weight on his limp body was lifted, and as soon as he reached the comforts of his own bed with the covers lifted well over him like a cocoon, he cried. He cried for the loss of his body. He cried for the loss of his ability to think without remembering what that woman was doing to him while dribbles of tears streaked down his cheek. He cried for not being faithful to you.

He cried for his future with a soulmate who hated him for actions beyond his own control.

Though as Aemond dressed in appropriate clothes he brought with him for the special moment, his mind cannot help but think back to his earlier worries. Yet now, he is a man.

Aemond possesses the largest dragon in the world. Which to him even now was worthy of the trade of his eye. He is a scholar of history and philosophy whose work has even been submitted to the citadel to be placed in books that’ll be read by many accomplished people. He is even a greatly talented swordsman as said so by all those who have watched him train in the yard. He has become a man worthy of your love and your future.

Yet his hands still fumble about with the other whilst he follows a plain looking maid to the dining hall. He requested a meeting with you in private specifically in a place you were familiar with so you could be comfortable when meeting him. He may be a dragon, but he likes to imagine that he is no monster.

He sits there for what feels like hours. Picking at the skin above his nail until he can feel the blood pooling. He’s about to do it again to his final nail on his left hand, but then you walk in and everything stops. Only not for the reason he would’ve hoped it to have.

As he does not meet the eyes of his soulmate. Instead he meets nothing. He merely stares blankly at the veil that covers your whole face.

“What are you wearing?” He asks, glaring at the damned piece of fabric in his way.

“Clothes, my Prince.” You simply say, the sarcasm not annoying him like how Aegons does. Though Aegon was always just a twat. You appear to make it interesting and actually entertaining to take part in.

“Trust me, my lady, I can see just fine with one eye.” He smirks, silently seething at the prospect of being unable to see your face. He already knows you to be beautiful, it just irks him that he is unable to confirm it. “Why do you hide yourself?”

“What do you mean my Prince?”

“Why do you hide your face? Is there a chance you are afraid of me? Or of what you think I will see?” As soon as the words leave his lips he sees the way your body freezes up. “Do you wish to sit down my dear lady? I am sure it was never a part of your etiquette lessons to break fast while standing.”

You do not say anything as you move to sit in a seat near the middle of the table, and Aemond already in his mind is thinking that’s much too far away from him as he continues to sit at the end seat.

The two of you though stay silent as you both begin to eat the spread of food in front. From the corner of his eye he watches you, and it’s strange how he finds himself suddenly so jealous of the fruit you begin to eat. Jealous of the way those grapes get to go under your ridiculous veil and be touched by your lips, which Aemond already knows to be soft and oh so kissable. He has never seen them, but he just knows.

“Would you not be more comfortable without the veil my lady?” Aemond asks, watching carefully as you stop eating and turn your head to look at him.

“No, I am fine with my current predicament. Is it not more comfortable for you to not wear the eyepatch?” You quip back, with no doubt a smile on your face.

“I suppose you are right my lady,” Aemond drawls, watching the way your head tilts and the fabric concealing you from him lightly pressed against the curves of your face. “How about I propose this. I take off my patch, and you take off your veil?”

“I do not accept it!” You practically yell, your hands clenching so hard that Aemond could see even from where he sat the knuckles turning white.

“Besides…” You continue in a much softer tone like that of a burdened lady, which Aemond knows for sure is not true at all from what he has heard of your life story. “I am hideous to look at. This veil more protects you than it protects me my Prince I am sure of it.”

Aemond hums a response, but his eye says all as it trails over your covered body.

“So those who have told me in person how you are easily one of the prettiest maidens they have seen are lying then, are they my lady?” He reveals, watching you carefully so he can attempt to decipher your movements.

“They must be my Prince. As far as I have been told, I am the ugliest lady they have ever seen and how I shall die a spinster locked away in a tower!”

It’s strange, how when Aemond thinks of that actually happening his fists clenched tightly by his sides, and how he gets the overwhelming urge to maim those people claiming you to be so hideous. To make them so ugly and deformed and force them to sit all day everyday in front of a mirror so they can see the true meaning of being grotesque.

“You lie.” Aemond simply growls, his brow harshly furrowed from the mixture of anger from the idea of those insulting you and frustration from you still hiding your true identity from him.

He closes his eye and takes a minute to simply breathe past his anger. His body slowly tingly as he swears he feels your eyes piercing his soul.

“What if I strike a bargain with you, my sweet maiden?” Aemond says, the nickname oozing off his tongue with arrogance and self assurance.

“And why should I even think about striking a deal with you, my Prince?”

“Because I believe it shall benefit the both of us my lady. Now, do you wish to hear what I have in mind?”

“If you insist on telling me then I suppose I shall be obliged to hear words from the Prince of the realm.” You sigh, leaning your body to one side so your head is laying on the palm of your hand and Aemond gets another glimpse at how you look without truly seeing you.

“I suppose you are…” He says, leaning forward so his arms are fully lying on the table and his spine is slightly curved. “Still, the bargain I wish for you to partake in is this. I shall take off my eye patch so you can see what true grotesque is, and you my sweet maiden shall take off your good for nothing veil. Then I suppose we can see out of the two of us who is the most ugly, as you so bluntly put it.”

Aemond barely has a chance to blink before you're yelling a distinctive and firm “No” that manages to echo somehow in the room.

“Now now my sweet don’t be so resistant…” Aemond grins, tilting his head to one side as he finds himself delighted with how riled he’s made you. “You did not even consider it for a second.”

“Because I did not need to!” You bite back, slamming your hands against the wooden table so hard it manages to shake your plate still possessing some food and even your goblet too. “If I do not wish to show you you have no right to force me!”

“Oh, but I’m afraid I do my sweet maiden…” He says, getting up from his chair so he can oh so slowly make his way over to where you appear to sit frozen in your own chair. “As a prince, I have power where you do not. Now, I do not wish to abuse such power for situations like this one. I do not like to abuse my power in general in any situation. But I may find myself very willing to show you what it is I am capable of. Do you understand me maiden?”

Aemond pauses for a moment as he watches the way the veil moves with every shallow breath you take before he does something that leaves his own heart beating frantically in his chest from every emotion possible to feel.

Aemond slowly peels off his eyepatch to reveal to you a shining blue sapphire surrounded by deep scarred flesh before chucking the piece of dark brown leather onto the table in front of you.

“I have completed my end of our bargain my sweet lady. Now complete yours, before I get impatient.”

You sigh deeply and Aemond cannot help but feel his heartbeat thrice as hard in his chest from anticipation alone. He yearns to see your eyes, your lips, your nose, your everything If only you should allow him too.

So when your hands slowly move to entangle themselves in where the veil begins from within your hair, his heart feels as though he fully stops when the veil is slowly pulled away and the face of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life stares back at him.

“Gevie” He cannot help but murmur as his eye moves over your whole face and his body is forced to sit down in the chair next to you so he can focus on looking solely at you.

“What does it mean?” You ask, though Aemond barely registers it as he’s entranced with how your lips move with each syllable.

“Beautiful.”

There is a rare silence between the two as they each take time now looking at each other. You stare at the sapphire that glints when the sunlight beaming through the window hits it. While Aemond now looks properly at your eye, which he has discovered is a whole different color than the other. And when you blink and reveal the delicate flower imprinted on your eyelid, he cannot help but gape and gasp slightly.

“Did I do that?” He asks, pure horror in his tone and words.

“It was done a long time ago my Prince,” You simply say, smiling slightly in a strange way to comfort him. “And in a way, I suppose it was done by whoever took out your own eye. I do not expect you to suddenly reveal to me that you tore it out yourself. So therefore, you should have no more guilt than the person truly responsible.”

“I’ll kill the bastard!” Aemond growls, anger spilling from him in waves as he thinks of his nephew whose crime has gone on for too long.

“Careful my Prince. Those are dangerous words you are saying about children of the crown. You are lucky it is only me who is here.” You smile.

At first, you were so defensive and so sure the veil would hinder the Prince from prying about what was underneath it. You had thought of him like how you thought of all other men, and that when challenged with the prospect of an ugly woman he would not care and move on. Yet you suppose the gods do like to play tricks in the unlikeliest of places.

He had worn you down with the harshest of phrases and the most defensive body language, yet when you saw him at his most vulnerable with his sapphire shown bare to you you could not help but allow the overwhelming feeling of awe take over you while you stared at him.

As you unmasked yourself before him however and saw his own look of awe while he stared at all your features that had once been so carefully hidden from him, you could not deny the way your heart beat loud in your chest.

Even the way he murmured in his unique Valyrian tongue made you feel a strange feeling of specialness. As if no other woman had been seduced by those same words.

As you spoke to each other, your tongue slowly loosed as it felt for some reason so right to do so. You joking with the Prince felt so natural and yet so foreign at the same time.

“I suppose I am lucky my lady that it is you who sits there.” He says in response to your dangerous quip about his nephews, whose mother if she had heard yours or Prince Aemonds words would’ve surely sharply questioned you for them with no thought of mercy. “Though I suppose I am even more lucky that it is no ordinary woman who sits before me.”

He waits for a moment to see if you will guess his next words. But to be honest he almost forgets them himself as he gets distracted staring at your bottom lip which you bite between your teeth.

“I am lucky as it is my soulmate who sits before me as beautiful as the maiden herself.”

You feel like all the air in your lungs has left and you're gasping for air. Yet it's not as painful as you thought. In fact, it's rather remarkable to feel yourself burn in the presence of a dragon.

Still, even with this miraculous feeling within you, you cannot help but think of how your soulmate treated you but moments before. Arrogant. Selfish. Coercive. Your soulmate forced you to show yourself to him when you were uncomfortable. Did you really want to be fated to be with that person for the rest of your life?

"What's wrong my love?" Aemond asks, seeing the anxious expression on your face.

"How is it you can be so kind to me, when not even what I can guess to be less than half of an hour ago you were treating me as if I were some sort of shit on your shoe?" You ask, looking him dead in the eye as his body appears to freeze up before you.

If you weren't so focused on forcing the truth from a prince of the realm, you would think that it was actually very thrilling and sort of empowering to force a prince into silence.

"I did not mean to treat you like that." He begins, his head tilted to the floor so you cannot see his eyes and his neatly kept hair falls forward like a sort of curtain either side of his face. "I am sorry I was harsh on you. I suppose... I suppose I was scared."

Oh?

"All of my life, since I was a child, I was praying for you. For my soulmate to come into my life. And I suppose after all that time passing without you turned me bitter and angry that the gods did not hear my pleas. My feelings only became more sour when finally in front of you, instead of immediately accepting me and welcoming me you denounced me and spurned me with your words."

"You really thought I would jump into your arms like some sort of innocent lovesick maiden?" You say, staring at the man in front of you in disbelief. Aemond for the first time since his confession looks up at you from his curtain of silver locks, disbelief in his own stare as he listens to your honest words.

"Aemond, the idea of being tied to someone for the rest of my life was challenging for me as a child. Before the loss of your eye, all I had felt was mere stings. Yet feeling the pain I felt that day, it frightened me. I was a child-"

"I WAS A CHILD TOO!" Aemond yells, standing up so suddenly and leaning over you that you shriek a little in fear. “I was the one experiencing it first hand! The one who had to be held down by maesters and stared at by all as milk of the poppy was forced down my throat so maesters could tear out my eye with no true concern for me! YOU DID NOT HAVE TO GO THROUGH THAT AS YOU LAID ABED WHINING LIKE SPOILT CHILD!”

“DO NOT YELL AT ME!” You find the courage to say, standing up and pushing him away so he stumbles a couple steps back in surprise. “I get that you are angry and believe the entire world hates you! But do not blame me because you cannot be angry at those truly deserving of it! Do not yell at me because you are forbidden from getting your revenge on your bastard nephew! Do you understand me?!”

Aemond, in the same manner as that of a kicked dog, nods a yes to your question. Though when you glare hard at him to tell him that answer is unacceptable he quickly fumbles for words that eventually make it out to be heard.

“Thank you.” You simply say, stepping forward to show him how he has earned that step. “I understand you were disappointed I was not there for you. But you need to understand I was scared about it all. Scared of my future, scared of what was to come. Do you even get how scared that must’ve been for me?”

“Yes I understand that.” Aemond says, stepping a single step closer and pausing to see if you allow it which you do. “I am sorry for not thinking of you when you yourself were obviously hurting yourself. I was selfish-“

“It is not selfish, Aemond, to act like how you did.” As you speak, you step that last final step towards your soulmate and place an admittedly cautious hand onto his cheek. Though you think what surprises you most is when he immediately closes his eye and pushes his cheek hard against your palm. “I forgive you Aemond, even when I don’t know if I ever should for how you treated me.”

“I do not truly expect you to.” Aemond murmurs, his eye still closed as he savors your warmth against his cheek. “Though I vow here before you as not just your soulmate but as a man, that I’ll make it my life’s mission to form myself as a man worthy for you. To form myself into what you deserve.”

“Though I suppose that’s the strangest thing about our whole meeting.” You whisper, placing your other hand on the part of Aemonds face where the dark brutal mark that is his scar takes most of its space. It forces a somehow now calm and content Aemond to all of a sudden open his eye and even gasp so silently you almost barely hear it when your thumb slowly traces the raised yet soft skin of the scar that has defined him for so long.

“I don’t find myself wishing you to change to be better. I find myself wishing for you to stay how you are, even if you may hurt me.”

And with that, without either of you knowing whose fault it truly is, your limbs find comfort with each other, and all feels right.

[renthony]

On "Consuming Content"

Every now and then a post crosses my feed that follows the vein of, "you have to do things other than consume media or else you'll be a dumb person who doesn't know anything about how the real world works and does nothing but pointless fandom stuff."

I hate those posts for three major reasons, not counting the inherent ableism and classism of "you must have approved Smart People hobbies or else you're worthless" rhetoric:

You don't know what people do or talk about outside of what you see on their social media. Responding to fandom communities on a fandom-driven website as if all these people are one-note cardboard cutouts of people is asinine. In many cases this genre of post feels like repackaged 2012 tumblr "not like other girls" and hipster discourse. Yes, yes, you think you're better than everyone else on this website because your hobbies are less mainstream, more morally pure, and have greater intellectual merit, we get it.

What do you even mean by consuming content? As someone who purposely avoids using the phrase "consuming content" because I find the term too vague to be useful, please be more specific. Are you including every single form of media engagement and art enjoyment? Are you just talking about mainstream TV and film? What about novels? Plays and scripts? Nonfiction books and instruction manuals? Do you mean to imply that going to a book club is a worthless non-hobby? Are you including academic reading? Are you including going to the art museum? Going to the theatre, concerts, or other performances? Taped liveshows? Watching sports events on TV? Are you including news media? Are you including YouTube tutorials about how to do various tasks, crafts, or other hobbies? Are you including trade magazines? Are you including industry publications in various fields? What constitutes "content," and what constitutes "consuming" in this discourse? Define it. "Consuming content" is a nothing phrase that people use to mean multiple different things depending on what they, personally, judge as valid media. It's a buzzword at best, and when the same buzzword can be used to describe both "idly scrolling social media" and "reading and discussing a book," it's a meaningless phrase.

As an artist and author, if engaging with media is bad and worthless, am I supposed to conclude that making it is equally worthless? If "consuming content" is a bad, lazy, worthless, fake hobby, what makes creating art a worthwhile pursuit? If I am constantly being told as an artist that engaging with media isn't a worthwhile pursuit in its own right, and the people who want to engage with my art are just brainless fandom losers, what incentive do I have to make that art anymore? Furthermore, to everyone reading this paragraph and thinking, "that's not what content creation is," I refer you to bullet #2: If the phrase "make content" can be used to mean "low-effort posts made to advertise cheap and useless products" as well as "being a novelist" or "getting a gig as a writer on a TV show," it's a meaningless phrase.

None of that is even getting into issues such as the way influencers are preyed on by both brands and targeted harassment from trolls. Influencer culture has major issues, but boiling those issues down to "stupid vapid young people who are too lazy to make real art or get real jobs" (which is a mindset I see frequently online) is unhelpful. So many people pursue influencer deals because they're living in poverty but are skilled at various social media and advertising related tasks, and just like any worker, they're being exploited because they need to eat. Labor rights for influencers are a huge topic that entertainment industry unions have been actively discussing and working toward. (Related links for further info: [x] [x] [x] [x])

"Consuming content is not a hobby" is a worthless statement unless you define what you mean by both "consuming" and "content." Quite frankly, you also need to define "hobby," because if you're putting requirements on what is and isn't allowed to be a "real" hobby, you mostly just seem like you're moving goalposts and defining "worthwhile hobby" as "hobby I, personally, think is good." Use more specific language to articulate your actual problems with the entertainment industry, the art world, influencer culture, or whatever else you're actually upset by.

Media and fandom can involve any number of enriching, satisfying hobbies that take up a perfectly acceptable and healthy space in someone's life. If you aren't into it, go find hobbies you do like and stop policing how other people spend their precious free time in this nightmare hellscape of a world.

[pikahlua]

Ahhh I meant to ask, if you do end up giving thoughts on the leaks, I would LOVE to know your thoughts and this epilogue’s endings for bakugou (obviously!) and ochako as well.. in detail pls hehe

Everyone and their dog apparently wants my thoughts on the chapter, and I have to say I just don't wanna give them in the detail people seem to crave. Look, the chapter is meh. It's just meh. There are some cute things that happen in it and it seems that's at the expense of consistency in the story. They clearly didn't think about the things they were implying hard enough. Oh, Izuku and Ochako just didn't fucking interact for 8 years after high school but NOW Izuku wants to talk more? What about Ochako's school program with children that seems RIGHT UP Izuku's alley? They're both practically pursuing the same thing but apparently never breathe each other's air. Despite not thinking about each other for literal years apparently they're still attracted to each other, which, why? What are they attracted to? They're entirely new people now, they're meeting as adults with quite a few years missing between them? Oh, here's the rankings but also we're gonna give a throwaway line about how they're volatile and useless bUT STILL WE'RE GONNA GIVE YOU THEM. THEY DON'T MEAN ANYTHING ACTUALLY BUT HERE THEY ARE. Okay let's just imply Himiko is going to be Ochako's voyeur for life.

But worst of all is the weird idea that this is somehow the logical conclusion of the story that came before it. A conclusion should cap off the themes of its story and MAYBE introduce a new question to ponder. The story should LOGICALLY lead to the conclusion. But this conclusion basically turns around and says "Things change when you're an adult. You'll be a totally different person and maybe have new dreams. Except also you may not. Life is normal and boring and dreams sometimes die." What? WHAT????? Where's the theme of service to others? Where's the theme of heroes inspiring the next generation? Why are we implying heroes who are too good at their job will force their job to become unnecessary and die out but then try to prove no wait heroes are still necessary because sometimes people get weird urges to steal cars? What? Whatttt??? So heroes just exist now to be the quirk police basically. This is what all those kids were growing up to be? That's a weird implication after a whole story where the entire adult generation showed a VERY DIFFERENT AND MORE ADMIRABLE BRAND OF HEROISM (except for those that didn't, which was far more interesting than whatever this is). So the future of heroes AND villains is banality? Petty useless shit?

This is why 430 was such a good ending chapter. It DID showcase heroism in a mundane setting that actually had meaning and impact and inspiration. It made Izuku's adult life look like a fulfillment of his dream just in a new way.

In 431, Katsuki Bakugo is the only major character that shows a connection to the story that came before. He's the only one that still dreams of heroism and unity and inspiration, and he still thinks about who Izuku is deep down and resolves to save him from his stupidity AND SUCCESSFULLY DOES IT. He's the only one that resembles the heroic ideal that All Might supposedly instilled in everyone's hearts. MAYBE Ochako does too, but it's for a brief flash and then suddenly we're back on the mundane train (pun not intended) in a bad way.

And Shouto. Shouto can stay because he's the only character who PROPERLY introduces the question of "more to a hero than heroism" in the ending as a conclusion that introduces a new question, but it just...doesn't lead anywhere. I could see a potential path for that to have led the chapter somewhere meaningful, but it didn't.

So I maintain Katsuki is standing there watching on as the only character thinking about how the fuck to inspire people to be heroes again.

In summary, if I consider this the actual conclusion to the whole story, it's ass. I don't want it. It's useless and almost condescending. It's like the chapter is shaming me. How dare I enjoy the 430 chapters that came before, how dare I dream and feel inspired, how dare I expect anything of the concept of "hero" introduced by All Might and then the next one introduced by Izuku? But if I consider it an extra DLC bonus omake what-if didn't-think-too-hard-about-this-I'm-just-spitballing-and-having-fun-or-whatever side comic, fine, whatever, the mundane banality it wants to be succeeds, because I'm bored and I'm ignoring it. I'll have fun with it in fanfic maybe if I feel like it, but I ain't tying this shit into the themes of the actual MHA story. It doesn't belong there.

If that all sounds like more than you bargained for with your ask, it's because I received 30 other asks all wanting me to expand on these points, and so I decided to consolidate them all here. It's just too many asks for me to respond to individually. If I don't answer your ask, random anon reading this, it's because I consider your ask answered well enough.

[thestrongestjewel]

The Clip post (the crink fanchild)

OK SOO if u follow me on instagram u probably know of this stupid creature I created:

this is clip! and as the little ref you're seeing there implies yes this is in fact a crink fankid because im cringe like that-

so, you might be wondering why did I create the creature? well thats a good question, it ties up with a comic I already posted here actually (this one) . In the universe in which Clip is born cross moves in with Ink in the doodlesphere after the events of underverse and they (mostly by accident) created clip

after a while the rate at which creators made aus started to slow down, putting ink in an artblock that let him pretty sad :( cross only wanted to help, and so he decided he wanted to help ink by creating something of their own! which ended up in- well- them co-parenting a child together lol

they have no idea of what they're doing but they're happy regardless, mind you they're not even dating by this point they just happen to live together and have a child- no romantic feelings whatsoever I promise guys I promise-

anyway, some facts about clip! (most of these are taken from a Q&A I did about him on instagram):

He's 7 years old in universe, just a small baby! pretty smart and self aware for his age though. he's also pretty small and likes climbing on things like a little bug

like ink, he can eat paint, his favorite flavour is lavender! cross tries to keep him in a somewhat normal diet, but its hard because clip does not like to eat actual food, he really likes chocolate mint icecream though.

his favorite parent is ink, he thinks cross is "too lame" and "booring" while ink is more fun and teaches him how to paint.

of course that's just him being a kid, he loves both of his parents very much! he's very confused about their relationship though

(it is in fact very embarrassing clip)

and that's pretty much all I have about them for now- I dont plan on doing any big comics/stories involving them, its not really my main interest I just really liked the concept

If u wanna make fanart of clip or include him in a comic feel free to :D

anyway back to taking a break from drawing I go woaooh

[kitthefoxkin]

tw// discussion of genitals, zoophilia, harassment, transphobia, and sexual topics

has anyone else seen the controversy over species affirming packers? its been all over my feed and i have a lot of thoughts about it. the person that originally made them is actually my mutual on tiktok (where this whole thing originated) and i honestly think its not that big of a deal 😭

for context, a user named cyrusbarks on tiktok asked if anyone was interested in him making species affirming packers for alterhumans. a bunch of people were, so he made them and posted about it. they're sewn by hand with fabric and stuffing. they're not excessively detailed. since then, a LOT of people have been accusing him of being a zoophile and a predator because of this, which is insane to me.

first of all, packing isnt sexual and never has been. the only reason people think it's sexual is because it's genital related, which is just not correct. genitals arent sexual, and wanting species affirming gear isn't either. its no different from human packers made for trans folks already. but for some reason, people think that this specifically has sexual intent, despite not being usable in any sexual context.

second, a BUNCH of people have been misgendering him. Cyrus uses he/him and bark/barks pronouns and everyone ive seen talking about it has referred to him as They or She, both of which are misgendering. one person i was talking to literally said that he deserved to be misgendered. their exact words were "if someone's being odd... they don't deserve respect". i don't think i have to explain why this is an absurd thing to say.

third, people have been coming at ME for defending him, coming to my tiktok page calling me a zoophile. this is not only incorrect, but so, so hurtful. i love my pets so much, and being accused of being attracted to them is absolutely disgusting. my cat has gotten me through the worst times in my life, and people are implying that im abusing them because of my opinions on a stupid online controversy. its absurd.

my first mistake was expecting maturity and nuance on tiktok, i think. if you have any differing opinions or viewpoints, please please message or comment!!! i do genuinely want to discuss this topic and understand other people's viewpoints, as i feel very strongly about this. please just be respectful-- if you're just going to insult me, im not going to engage in conversation.

thank you for reading friends!

[lu-is-not-ok]

Nocturnal Sweeping Intervallo teaser frame-by-frame analysis

That's right, you didn't think I was going to leave this teaser without saying anything about it, did you? In fact, I have. Way too fucking much to say really.

Before anything though, I wanna give a shout out to @chorin342 for the translations of the hanzi that shows up during the trailer, which helped A Lot with figuring out what awaits us.

Now, onto the trailer itself.

After the several seconds long title screen of the Intervallo, we're given another view of the setting, this time with a sort of tv screen-esque overlay. The whole teaser seems to be somewhat structured to mimic a sort of action movie trailer, potentially hinting to this potentially being a more action-packed Intervallo.

The text (which in case it's hard to read on the screenshot says "We were greeted by a dark street upon disembarking from the bus, illuminated only by faints strands of light.") accompanying this CG seems to be a part of Dante's narration based on its contents. We're likely seeing a glimpse of just the intro part of the Intervallo.

After a few seconds, the following pops up on the screen with a booming sound effect:

This simply translates to "District 8", further confirming information that is about to be revealed.

Just as this text disappears, the narration continues, saying "It was immediately obvious that we had arrived in the Backstreets of H Corp."

Similarly to what I and many other speculated, we are going to H Corp's District, and the Intervallo specifically takes place within its Backstreets.

Then, we get the two following bits of text:

This translates to "Hongyuan/Hong garden Life Engineering Corporation". Or, as the second one illuminates, the full name of "H Corp".

In addition to the reveal of H Corp being a company that specializes in engineered life, the character for the "Hong" part of the name is the exact same as used in Hong Lu's own name. The connection is already clear and we're barely fifteen seconds into the teaser.

Then we're onto the Identity trailers, with the above literally just being that. "Identity".

Both the Outis and Ryoshu Identities belong to the Heishou Pack - Mao Branch. Heishou translating to Black Beast, and Mao translating to Rabbit in the context of the twelve Chinese zodiac animals, as well as Wood in the context of the five Chinese elements.

I'm not going to go over the Identity trailers in too much detail, but I will mention things that I think will be important to the plot of the Intervallo.

The Mao Branch of the Heishou Pack appear to be a group hired by whoever they call "lord". Notably, both Identities express that their loyalty lays with the one that holds that title, rather than a specific individual. They're shown to be ready to betray the one who formerly carried that title at a day's notice, and are aware of their nature enough to deem themselves inherently untrustworthy.

In both trailers the Identities face off against average-looking gangsters. Those are likely to be the enemies we face off during the intro part of the Intervallo, before we run into any Sweepers.

According to the Identities' other voice lines, the Mao Branch's job takes place primarily during the night, potentially "taking care" of whatever target they're given by their lord by killing them in the middle of the night and letting the Sweepers clean them up before anyone can find any evidence.

Ryoshu's Identity here also makes a very interesting comment, about how the Mao Branch has "the same roots" as R Corp's Rabbit Pack, but "have grazed on different grass" and thus comparing them to each other is deemed stupid. Considering the implication of H Corp being a "life engineering" company and R Corp's technology in cloning, this might imply that their respective technologies are in some way similar in nature, yet different enough that it'd be stupid to actually compare them.

I also want to make a small observation about the aesthetics of the group. Specifically their color palette of black and yellow. It honestly kind of reminds me of the Udjat and Arbiters, and considering both of those are essentially military forces (hired by a private individual and a governing body respectively) it might allude to the Heishou Pack's nature as being not that unlike them.

Alright, back to the rest of the trailer.

We get another CG of the Backstreets, alongside what appears to be actual dialogue. (In case it's too hard to read, it says "A-are you sure we're going the right way? I don't like the sound of that weird song...") The most likely candidate to be saying this is Sinclair due to his tendency to stutter and appear nervous when he speaks, but it could be someone else as well.

Either way, this line implies that someone is guiding the Sinners through the Backstreets, potentially into somewhere dangerous and definitely suspicious.

Another text appears:

This literally translates to "round medicine", but it also appears to be the same word as used in two of Xichun's passives, that being bolus. Bolus in this context likely refers to a type of medicine administration, where a dose is introduced to the body to take effect over a short period of time.

Considering H Corp's "life engineering" (perhaps even downright bioengineering) tech, they might have a notable interest in pharmaceuticals as well.

Next scene.

Another view of the Backstreets, this time giving us a clear view of the Mansion taking up the entire goddamn skybox.

The text here (reading "The main streets are most likely teeming with those seeking to bring harm to the young master. We must venture an alternative path.") appears to be a piece of dialogue from an unknown party.

What we can tell about this person is that for one, they're the one guiding the Sinners through the Backstreets, meaning that the Sinners are completely at the mercy of this unknown party. The second thing we can tell about them however is that they're clearly aware of Hong Lu's identity and his ties to the Jia Family.

Considering what we've seen in the Identity trailers, I'd like to suggest that the Heishou Pack aren't going to be our enemies, or at least not at the start. They're likely to be hired by the Jia Family, and thus would have interest in keeping Hong Lu "safe". However, just because they want to protect the young master from harm, doesn't mean they feel the same way about the rest of the Sinners... if you know what I mean.

Next hanzi show up here.

This one translates to "complex" in the context of a building. This could potentially refer to the Mansion in the background, calling it a complex and thus potentially a sort of conglomerate of multiple Mansions. Alternatively, it could be referring to the dwellings Sweepers use, calling those dens a complex of their own.

After this we get a quick glimpse of a black screen getting covered with red Sweeper eyes and a rising noise. Likely foreshadowing as to what awaits the Sinners if they are to follow their new guide.

The scene changes again.

Multiple things. While I didn't capture it in this screenshot, combat takes place in the background here. While it's hard to make out because of the big fuckass hanzi in the way, it appears as if the Heishou Pack is fighting alongside the Sinners rather than against them, further implying that they're the ones guiding them through the Backstreets.

The hanzi here translates to "life insurance". This honestly could refer to a lot of things. It could refer to the Heishou Pack's role as being there to insure Hong Lu preserves his life. It could refer to H Corp's interest in immortality and thus insuring their own life. It could even potentially imply that H Corp deals with more literal life insurance, perhaps being in the business of insuring people with "spare lives" not unlike the situation of Pamela and Pameli in Ruina.

Notably, the "life" in life insurance here uses different characters to the ones commonly used in the term. However, this could just be an instance of PM being a Korean speaking company and thus not knowing the "proper" spelling of the phrase. A mistake in similar nature to them flipping Linton's first and last name, or calling "Don" a surname rather than a title in the original Korean script.

The dialogue here (reading "Looks like everyone in the Backstreets has been getting pretty plucky while I was away. Back then, I could even catch a glimpse of their faces-") is pretty clearly coming from Hong Lu, and continues on (reading "-Because they'd all be on their hands and knees whenever we walked past... Ah, what a wonderful change!").

This bit of dialogue establishes multiple things. For one, the Jia Family is important enough to garner extreme amounts of veneration from District 8 citizens, even out in the Backstreets. However, and more interestingly, for whatever reason Hong Lu alone isn't eliciting the same reaction. Whether it's because as Hong Lu says and there his been a shift in the status quo in the Backstreets, or whether it's something else that is causing people to not recognize Hong Lu as part of the Family is currently unclear.

Then, Ricardo Announcer. You get nothing from me about that, I just find it really fucking funny.

Then, back to the mayhem.

Here the text translates to "east" as in the context of a region. Which, makes sense. We are in the East region of the City now, this is likely a reference to that.

The dialogue here (reading "Oi, up yours with that wonderful change! How much longer 'til we get there?!") very likely comes from Heathcliff judging by the wording. It further foreshadows the suspicious nature of the Sinners' guides and that they might not be leading them where they think they are.

And, in case that wasn't already being made clear, in the background a wave of Sweepers just fucking descends upon the Sinners before static takes over the screen and we're back to the core event illustration.

So.

Let's summarize what we can gather from this trailer.

Our current destination, H Corp's District, is run by Hongyuan Life Engineering Corporation, a Wing with an interest in life insurance and pharmaceuticals. The Jia Family appears to be highly regarded in this District, to the point of likely being the ones who hired the Mao Branch of the Heishou Pack, a group specializing in operations under the cover of the night who are loyal to those holding certain ranks rather than to specific individuals.

Upon their arrival, the Sinners would come in contact with this group, who would recognize Hong Lu as a young master of the Family that hired them, and would thus wish to ensure his safety and likely return him to his home. As such, they serve as guides and allies for the first part of the Intervallo's plot.

However, the path this Pack leads the Sinners down is suspicious and long, and eventually leads them towards the Sweepers. There is a high chance that this was the Pack's trap all along, whether their motives are to take Hong Lu out because of an order from one of his siblings or to retrieve him and take him back to the Mansion while leaving the rest of the Sinners to die is yet to be seen. Either way however one thing is clear - the Black Beasts are indeed not to be trusted.

[dogswest]

Friendly reminder that Viktor is asexual (mostly) canonically

EDIT: I also strongly suggest reading the comments as it explains why its not a 100% valid and/or canon thing. Don't forget to view both sides of the matter!

Co-creator of arcane had said that they'd seen viktor as an asexual and had written him in a way where, although theres love involved between Jayce and Viktor, its represented in a way that doesn't have to be sexual (is the best way I can summarize it) *TLDR summaries will be mentioned.

Something similar is said in reddit post below which also links a vod from where it was said by the co-creator

reason why I say mostly is because they worded it in a weird way and—although its mostly confirmed based on a bunch of other sources also saying this and proof is sourced—its in German and I cannot confirm if it was said, but based on a lot of other posts and that they linked a vod, it sounds valid. feel free to take it with a grain of salt*, but (TLDR:) I'd strongly advise it (Viktor being ace) be considered when writing, drawing or implying anything related to Viktor and his love life, even if its an implied canon and not a written canon.*

ALSO a reminder that asexuals can feel love and still be in relationships

Its stupid I have to say this because asexual and aromantic are obviously two different words, but a lot of people—even the co-creator made it sound like they dont know what they're talking about entirely—always mix up the two for some actually stupid reason. JUST because someones asexual doesn't mean they (for example Viktor and literally any other asexual–including me) can't be romantically involved. (TLDR) So let this be a reminder that asexuals can still feel romantically towards others. This means that Jayvik is also still heavily implied to be canon.

also asexuality is a spectrum. Look into it, I can't tell you everything. I'm just a mostly biased teen online, take shit as you will 🗣🔊

[officeshelpdesk]

Throwing together a list of things I consider to be DEI for southerners

College football being shown on television. That's dumb, watch professional football, also every single SEC school is basically a daycare so those colleges also count as DEI for southerners

Speaking of football, indoor stadiums. It's not my fault you decided to live in and play for a team in the devil's asshole. Learn to deal with snow, it's not that hard

Country artists being on SNL (see recent news)

Chic fil a being closed on Sundays. It doesn't quite fit the category but it's stupid and virtue signally, also the chicken is shit so clearly God doesn't love you back.

"southerners are actually one of the most left wing groups in America" discourse. No they aren't, I get coal companies are bad but every southerner is also Hitler

The TV show "the outer banks", don't know what its about, refuse to watch it, just vibes wise seems like it fits the category

"small town values" pandering from both parties, applied to other regions too but also choosing to live in a small town is a moral failing that you should be ashamed of, and there are a lot of them in the south so ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

The Clinton presidency

Allowing Texas to be that large. Doesn't make any sense, it's like half desert and the other half is the dumbest cities on God's green earth

Speaking of Texas and bringing it back to football, still calling the Dallas cowboys "America's team". Although that is fitting because it's a shell of it's former self ran by a decrepit and corrupt billionaire that hasn't won anything important in the 21st century.

Every pickup made by any manufacturer in the last 20 years. Ooooooo you're so tough and country in you're mega tank that you use to go to the grocery store ooooo I'm so scared of you

Bootcut jeans. They're comfy and I like wearing cowboy boots, sadly them being in target makes them make the list not my fault.

Going back to the pickup trucks one, the phrase "country" implying some sort of toughness or machismo, you people would shit your pants if you had to walk through like Cleveland Ohio, you're scared of your own shadow because it's black

Hurricane relief. Sorry, maybe if your house is somewhere that hurricanes rip through every year around the same time, you should consider relocating, we need that money to build affordable housing in places people actually should live

Not making fun of Texans enough for putting steer horns on their cars. Like what are you doing, that looks so corny and stupid, you should be bullied into suicide

Not making fun of how people dress for the Kentucky Derby also. Southerners shouldn't be allowed to wear nice clothes and big hats, we should require them to own one pair of overalls

Ending reconstruction, self explanatory

Am I missing anything? Please let me know!

[doeisagun]

🍳 ,, synecdoche (BOB R. x MASC/MALE READER)

prompt: reader has never seen bob in a tuxedo/ball gown before.

❤︎ • before a PR gala.. ;; fluff mainly, male reader, body worship(?) (bob receiving), you love each other very much, you both don't wanna go to this fuckass gala (!!!), suggestive*, reader is said to be an insomniac**, reverse comfort ?? technically. its 12am this is my first x reader fic it's unorganized, its messy but goddamn its bob reynolds x male reader because there's not enough of that. sorry if he's ooc ( implied yelena/kate or yelena/ava but it's vague so it can be all three) eyeliner bob.. im sleepy

__

community is playing on low volume with a dim picture effect in bob reynolds' room today.

you hum, cheek pressed against his chest. six hours before this stupid gala the team has to go to, he's got his lips pressed to the top of your head. everyone else can kiss your ASS — because you feel like heaven IS bob reynolds in a raglan shirt, fully and truly.

you never thought it could feel like this, really. secure. life felt like being thrown in a shredder, then blended and eventually thrown away because you weren't /right/. being forced to be a part of things with the thu-, sorry, new avengers* (working title, but isn't that jarring?) helped a bit, but between the bickering and eating dinner together — you couldn't help but still feel lost? in a morbid kind of way? floating through life without any sense of direction.

that is, until bob managed to give you some sort of initiative.

not in an unhealthy way, or anything.. you just liked seeing him when coming home from missions. you loved the little crease in his eyes whenever yelena and ava would make him bust a gut laughing, to walker's dismay (it was all in good fun). you loved how big his hands looked whenever he curled them around the weights in the training room. you loved catching him on late-nights during mean bouts of insomnia, and inviting him back to your room to talk about whatever was on your minds — oh my god, his mind! you loved his mind, no matter how offbeat he found the sentiment.

his taste in music was so eclectic ("shiiit dude, you- adrianne lenker?" "yeah- yeahyeahyeah!") and listening to him talk was even better. your smile was wider than you ever thought you could manage when he would call you from wherever you were discharged to and whisper the sweetest things. you could manage life, you think, with him around. he was your best friend.

you can feel him.

fuck the ball- gala-? whatever.

___

five hours left

your phone vibrates, and you crane your neck to look over at it.

[ NEW AVENGERS* (+5 new messages) ]

and below it was:

[ lenaaa: got some suits for u and b ]

you smile, another text follows a second after.

[ lenaaa: the boss was huff puff about u not being able to try them at the store, but i handled it 🧘]

your lips purse.

[ lenaaa: brunch date with u know who. busy, cant talk check ur door ]

you sigh, looking back at bob, who was out like a light. his arms were curled around himself and his cheek was smushed against the pillow, chest softly rising and falling beneath the soft fabric knighting his chest.

thank the sun for him.

you peel off of your boy, frowning at his soft whine when you do. feet make their way to his door, and you pick up a hefty bag.

you hear shifting behind you, and a deep, rumbling "whas'sat..?"

"clothes for the thing." you look up at him to catch the look of confusion on his face, "the gala."

"gala- /gala/." his mouth hangs a little, and he rubs his eyes. you bring yourself and the bag up onto his bed, watching the way he wets his lips with life.

"the gala, yes." you take some of the pieces out: a cravat, a tie, cufflinks, brooches — the actual suits come last, and they're.. something. the one that's meant for bob is a simple plain-colored mustard yellow tuxedo with black undertones, a tiny sunflower for the brooch, and matching dress pants. you tentatively hold it up for him, and his eyes flitter from the suit to the television.

"oh come on, bobbie, it's not that bad.." you set the suit down in your lap, frowning sympathetically. "i know it's not the suit."

"you- no?" his voice is small,

"no.." you purse your lips. "i don't want to go either." you reassure him, thumbing his arm gently. he rubs over his thighs, "but!"

"but- but? but what?" he tilts his head slightly.

"you'll have me," you gently take his hands, "the whole time." he melts, his irises growing ten sizes when he catches yours. "that's one plus?"

"yeah." he chuckles, soft and airy, "you're full of them." you fight off a smile.

"so you'll be fine. if you aren't, we've got the team on speed-dial. don't feel bad for prioritizing yourself, okay? i want you to. we all do." your thumbs stroke his palms, and pink pinches his cheeks, a minuscule "o-okay. okay." breaking out from his lips before he leans in to peck yours gently.

the feel of your lips making contact was electric, absolutely unparalleled to any sensation you had experienced before now (that's a lie, this was third to being wrapped up in his arms and feeling him kiss up your thighs, your tummy, toward your pecs-), but he's pulling away and stroking the sides of your face. his eyes look so warm.

"same goes for you. always." he whispers, even though you're both alone together, his voice lilting into a crack. "wait.. wait. you're so.. handsome." bob breathes, nearly panting, tracing your jaw like he can't believe it. you watch his eyes fill with stars, "fuck- god. wow. i-i'm really- glad that i get to love you." he laughs again and you kiss again and it feels like an eternity before you pull away, kissing again his cheek for good measure. you lean over and check your phone.

four hours and thirty minutes.

you lean back over to him, grinning mischievously. "pluuus.. i don't think i've ever seen you in a suit before." your index fingers climb up his chest like a ladder, he looks at you incredulously and his cheeks spread pink. "don't wanna miss that."

"you've seen me in my birthday suit." he mumbles, and you spread your hand out on his chest, whistling. "that i have," you then, look into his eyes. "and as much as i do want to see you in that /again/, i think i want to have lunch here, with you and not there. being bored makes me not want to eat, you know?"

"you're- you're right." he shrugs, looking down at the suit. "..shower. got to shower." bob says more to himself than you, picking up the ensemble and standing up.

he thumbs over the brooch, and you lean down to kiss his lower back. bob turns back to look at you. you wink up at him, your voice husky when you add that it's "for good luck."

the way his teeth sink into his bottom lip and his eyes go lidded is absolutely delectable.

you can manage to put a few minutes aside to satiate your hunger, you decide.

__

three hours.

you and bob are fully dressed, and have your hands over your eyes. your boyfriend was mildly confused, but obliged when you asked him to make the "suit thing" a surprise, because he liked how excited you sounded.

not to say that he wasn't sweating out of his balls. he was, but he managed to cover over it with this floral, gentle scent of jasmine-scented cologne that rushed over you in waves — along with heaps of deodorant, spray-on and stick.

"oh.. oh! handsome, is that you-?" you don't move your hands, but your nose flares something serious.

"..yeah." he says bashfully. "i can't, uhm- see you, but i think you look super hot. like- mcdreamy hot."

you chuckle, hands twitching from your eyes to cover your mouth and catch your laugh when he adds: "/sweltering/." in a deeper than usual voice. you nearly squeal at the sight of him, and he frowns beneath his hands at the sound of it.

he says your name. you don't respond. his hands fall, and that's when he sees you — in a purple blazer that sits just right on your figure, with these striking black dress pants that bloom out around the bottom of the legs. your brooch is a lilac, pinned nicely to your right breast, and your cufflinks are dotted with glittering black rhodium.

his throat goes tight. you swallow when you see how his tux hugs his figure, his shoulders, how his hands clench beneath the sleeves. in the light you can tell that he's got a bit of makeup on, but it's extremely subtle, aside from his eye-line: it's gold.

"fuck.." you breathe.

you get up and walk to him, curling a hand around his waist. your hand comes to cup his cheek, "what's that?"

he has the audacity to look down. he looks ashamed, his voice wavering already. "i-..i wanted to try something new. i thought you'd like it- so-"

your tongue plunges into his mouth, and he's immediately falling into the kitchen sink next to him. he holds you up by the face and kisses you back messily. this was coordinated. as much as you hated to admit it, you already knew how this was going to go. your lips move against each other's, and he moves to sit on the counter. his lips were so plump when you pulled away.

two hours.

"last time! that's the last time today we make out-" you and bob are making sandwiches, getting crumbs all over your nice suits and everything. domesticity sounded nice when it was with him.

his nose scrunches as he giggles into his cup, sipping at the cola he poured. "i think we should keep making out, actually? way better than going to that gala."

"true," you start, and he grins, "but this is a team thing."

his smile drops, and you link an arm around his.

"we've got this." the link tightens, "with you the whole time."

"with you the whole time."

he fizzles up into elation after you kiss again.

ten seconds.

you stand behind your team, holding hands with him. his eyes glance over to you, and they're met with your warmth – guidance.

one second.

you step inside.

[seeminglydark]

What's the timeline for John realizing who caro is? In the most recent comic of them you reblogged, John says caro "feels like home" implying he doesn't realize they're his high school sweetheart. Is there a period where caro recognizes John but not vice versa? That dynamic would be super interesting!! (P.s. I absolutely adore your characters!!!!)

John has a a lot of scrambled and blanked out memories, and it does take him a little while to connect the dots. You're correct that in the latest comic i posted, he doesnt remember them that way. it goes like this

Caro finds his picture on his jobs social media and shows up, and ONE HUNDRED percent knows who he is. He knows who Caro Greene is, he does not connect that this was his highschool sweetheart. He is embarrassed.

Caro starts showing up more. He has at this point been told but now he's completely humiliated and avoids them at every turn- til they run into eachother in the back, and the mini comic happens where he says they feel like home. They are familiar, their flirting and the way they act around him, and hes starting to uncover his own memories of them.

Sometime later he ends up walking them to their bike after an outing they were both at, confesses he DOES remember and he feels stupid, Caro is kind and understanding, teases him and then things go south from there (not relationship wise but Ghost wise), you can read that part in Mil-Liminal here or Seemingly Dark here (SD has some discrepancies because I didnt know i was going to make them highschool sweethearts at the time, just fyi, its still one of my favorite chapters of all time, he does say he didnt KNOW them, hes wrong, ignore him.)

So yeah basically caro knows who he is THE WHOLE TIME and just rolls with it while laying it bed at night and sweating because they are trying to be cool and chill and not totally offended since OBVIOUSLY he has ptsd and a little neurological damage cuz he DIED and all but they are freaking out, I assure you. Meanwhile HE'S freaking out cuz why is CARO FUCKIN' GREENE giving him googoo eyes every time they are near him?!

[scoobydoodean]

would love to hear more about the “chuck was the one who brainwashed cas and kelly actually” theory, thank you :)

Okay so I'm going to sound like I'm not addressing your question at all at first but just bear with me.

One of the primary reasons that the baby brainwashing incident fascinates me is that Cas's actions are a betrayal of his and Dean's bond on a foundational level. I'm not talking about The Colt or the mixtape (though they're related).

Dean and Cas's relationship as handler and charge was shed and a real, genuine bond bloomed in 4.22, after this exchange:

DEAN Destiny? Don't give me that "holy" crap. Destiny, God's plan... It's all a bunch of lies, you poor, stupid son of a bitch! It's just a way for your bosses to keep me and keep you in line! You know what's real? People, families -- that's real. And you're gonna watch them all burn? CASTIEL What is so worth saving? I see nothing but pain here. I see inside you. I see your guilt, your anger, confusion. In paradise, all is forgiven. You'll be at peace. Even with Sam. DEAN You can take your peace... and shove it up your lily-white ass. 'Cause I'll take the pain and the guilt. I'll even take Sam as is. It's a lot better than being some Stepford bitch in paradise. 

These are the words that convince Cas to rebel. These are the words that dissolve Cas's doubts in doubt, and convince him to follow his convictions instead of act on blind faith. Shortly after this conversation, Cas flies Dean to Chuck, who tells them what they're up to isn't supposed to happen. This becomes a theme of Dean and Cas's relationship.

Together, Dean and Cas do things that aren't supposed to happen—that aren't part of God's plan. They do something Chuck explicitly says isn't supposed to happen in 4.18. They do something that Chuck explicitly says isn't supposed to happen in 4.22. They do something that Chuck explicitly says isn't supposed to happen in 5.22.

Dean and Cas's relationship, at its very core, is built upon the rejection of two things: 1) Destiny and 2) Paradise—and by the end of "The Future", Cas explicitly (in the production draft) embraces destiny and paradise... and that screams Chuck.

This is what Cas says to Kelly right after the devil baby brainwashing at the very end of "The Future". The "Paradise" part doesn't make it to the final cut—just the "future" part... but the Paradise part is implied by the "future" part anyway.

What else happens in "The Future"? Kelly says the line.

It's not supposed to happen this way.

She says the line that Chuck said every time Dean and Cas defied the writing during the first apocalypse by doing something Chuck couldn't or didn't anticipate. Kelly says this after Sam and Dean catch up to Castiel—after Sam and Dean convince Cas to just talk through all of this with them and not jump to the nuclear option of murdering Kelly—to consider an alternative plan where Kelly and Jack's lives are both preserved because Jack is born a regular baby. The moment Cas begins to agree to talk, Kelly says "It's not supposed to happen this way."

Now let's talk about Kelly. Her behavior this entire episode is insane. She begins the episode despairing because giving birth to Jack will kill her. She then tries to kill herself, but Jack won't let her die—and this throws Kelly into a sort of religious fervor—convincing her that Jack is actually good and could revolutionize the world. Her belief in this is so powerful that when Sam and Dean arrive, she immediately rejects the plan they've come up with that will spare her and Jack's lives:

Sam: No, Kelly, if you go with Cass, you die. Your baby dies. Kelly: I go with you, you take away the thing that makes him special.

She sounds nuts. Like. Imagine saying you'd rather you and your baby DIE than have a "normal" baby. Your baby HAS to be a special baby or you'd rather be dead? Uh... ew—and to a point that screams supernatural brainwashing.

Of course—Kelly's actions aren't quite as irrational as they seem because right before Sam and Dean arrived, Kelly was shown something by "Jack". She got Cas to lay his palm on her belly, and "Jack" showed her a vision of the future. After she takes off with Cas in the impala, she says,

When you put your hand on my stomach, I heard him. He spoke to me. He told me that even if it seems scary, if I just went to the gate, if I just followed your plan, that you would make sure he was born.

So even as she's driving herself straight into Cas's plan to kill her and her baby, Kelly believes everything will be fine—because "Jack" showed her the future... and the thing is? She's... not wrong. "Jack" did show her the future. "Jack" showed her a tiny moment that actually does happen at the end of the episode—Cas standing between her and Dagon and saying "You stay away from her".

Why do I keep putting "Jack" in quotes here? Because Jack never displays the ability to see the future after his birth, and yet "Jack" did have this power from the womb... only? Yeah... I'm not so sure. I'm wondering if it was someone else—someone who showed Kelly what they had already written.

I'll also note in 13.01, that Jack doesn't seem to remember... any of this happening—at least not in the same way. In fact, he recalls very little leading up to his birth. The way he describes it, his sole knowledge of the world prior to his birth came from Kelly speaking to him while he was in the womb... but also... not? Because he says he was Kelly?

SAM: How do you speak English? JACK: My mother taught me. SAM: So you talked to her. JACK: I was her. JACK: My mother, she said Castiel, he would keep me safe. She said the world was a dangerous place. That's -- that's why I couldn't be a baby or a child. I... That's why I had to grow up fast. That's why I chose him to be my father. Where is he?

It's all pretty confusing, but something blinks at me here: Jack says Kelly told him Castiel would keep him safe and indicates that he chose Castiel as his father based on Kelly's assessment. However, Kelly told us Jack showed her the future which told her that Castiel would keep Jack safe back in 12.19. These are two contradictory stories. What if a third party sowed both?

Two other little bits:

First:

Kelly: Maybe – maybe everything that I've been through, everything that I still have to go through, is happening for a reason. Maybe it's part of some plan. Castiel: No, it isn't. I used to believe in a plan. I used to believe that I had some mission. But I have been through enough now to know that everyone is just winging it. 

Castiel does a 180 on this by the end of the episode and it screams Chuck Chuck Chuck Chuck.

Second:

If you go to the 12.19 production draft (graciously provided to the fandom through @/spnscripthunt) on page 45, you'll see something that never made it to screen—Cas's vision of paradise.

Only—these visions don't seem to come to fruition unlike Kelly's vision of Cas protecting her. The bits with Dean and Castiel's wings don't feel like the future anyway—they... just feel like what Cas wants most desperately at that time—to be a protector and provider who can handle everything on his own—who needs a "win". This is another theme of the episode. Cas stole The Colt in a misguided attempt to protect his family from having to be directly involved in the ruthless murder Cas had determined would be necessary. He didn't believe there was any other choice, and he wanted to spare Sam and Dean the pain of being involved in the dirty work.

Sam: Then – Then why didn't you call us? Cas, we could've helped you. Castiel: I know. I wanted to keep you out of this. I-I was trying to keep you safe. Dean: You're not our babysitter, Cas, okay? That is not your job. And when in our whole lives have we ever been safe?

This probably stings for Cas because he knows they aren't, and he wants them to be—he wants his family to be safe... all without having to discard his conscience by killing Kelly. He wants her to be safe too! The stuff he sees gives him what he wants--Sam and Dean and Kelly happy and safe—Dean thanking him—Cas once more a fully powered angel who doesn't need anybody's help.

But all of this stuff he sees? It's a lie. It's a lie because it never happens, but it's also a lie because destiny is always a lie. Paradise is always a lie. God's plan is just a way to keep them all in line... and Cas is trying to secure paradise for someone who said they'd take the pain and the guilt over someone else's vision of their paradise.

[nmakii]

maki i beg you to write rin and s/o that also has sibling issues.. like not the "oh my sibling also left me lolol" issues like.. they're always gonna be in their sibling's shadow no matter what they do.. and their sibling absolutely hates their guts.. please..

I THINK I’VE SEEN THIS FILM BEFORE

— rin itoshi x reader with sibling issues

on behalf of older siblings, i side with sae :x

— rin itoshi

rins having one of those moments where he’s rethinking everything,,, like, he starts rethinking all about the times he’s been harsh to you. lowk start feeling bad :x

he’d try to be nicer. keyword: try. if you’re doing something braindead stupid, hes still gonna call you out hahaha

he’ll be more encouraging—ish… whenever you’re half-assing something (like example studies…), he wont be as harsh as he is with like bachira and the top 3… he’d go like “cmon… you know how to solve this. …do you need a hint..?”

and if on the very un-rare occasion, you do something that pisses him off, he would… do nothing! i know, shocking. he lobs u after all <3

this is only like… 1/4 because he feels bad for you and how your family’s treated you, and 3/4 because he wants to become the person he wanted sae to be.

hehe its actually pretty healing for the both of you. sometimes if the atmosphere is light and kind enough, you might even get him to smile a little bit :x <3

12:45. and you and rin were still up, studying for your math exam tomorrow.

“ugh..! i cant do it, rin. i don’t get it! y’know what? ill just fail..!” you frown, head in your hands. rin sighs. he really wanted to go to sleep, but he promised you that he’d help you prepare, and he has to follow through.

“d—ugh… dont be negative. i know you’ll be able to pass.” he pats you on the head. “do you wanna… review the concepts one more time, and solve one more problem before bed? i can help you study one more time in the library, okay?” he offered.

“mm… i need a breakkk..!” you groan. a break would mean having to stay up later… “i… fine… i need a break too…” rin groans. “..! what the hell does that mean..?!” you lash out at him, face pouty with a frown.

“…im joking. but, i am getting tired…” he says. he takes note of your guilty face. “i… sorry for keeping you up, rin… after this, you can sleep…”

fuck.

that face was making him feel guilty. “i didn’t mean it like that. im just saying its late, and you need to sleep early if you want your brain functioning.” he rested his hand on your shoulder. “cmon, let’s take a five-minute break and get back to this. okay?”

you nodded.

1:36. you were finally done, and much more confident than you were an hour ago. “yes, i got it!” you cheered. rin’s lips curled up at your enthusiasm. “it’s late now. get plenty of rest, okay? don’t panic, and just do your best.” he says.

you look at him like a child at their new pet; full of adoration and affection. you quickly ambush him with a tight hug, causing rin to wheeze out, the air in his lungs being kicked out in an instant. “ack..! ghh..! l..let me go…” rin heaves.

eventually, you do let go, choosing to move to a looser hug around his neck. “thank you, rin…” you smile. something in your gratitude stirs rin’s heart. as if the past was gone, and all that was left was the future.

“i..it’s no problem, okay? just go rest already, you need sleep…” his words and body language conflicting; his words pushing you away, and his hands pulling you closer as his lips find the crown of your head. he reluctantly lets you go sooner or later and helps you to clean up the various papers and textbooks.

as rin puts away his belongings, you cuddle up with him. “my favorite private tutor…” you snicker. rin rolls his eyes. “private tutor? that implies im getting paid to do this for you…” he frowns. “what?! my payment is my love for you..! isn’t that enough..?!” you argue back.

rin tried to hide the laugh that comes from his throat, but it’s quite obvious from the smile on his face. “…fine, i guess so. but, a little more loving wouldn’t hurt either.”

[dunmeshistash]

Any thoughts on Mickbell and/or Kuro? They're honestly some of my faves and it's hard to find stuff on them T_T

Many thoughts!

They both have had rough backgrounds and suffered a lot so they have this co-depedant relationship that while they pretend like its "Boss and Bodyguard" they cleary care deeply about it each other.

I love how responsible and down to earth Kuro is compared to how we see him in the series. As someone whose first language isn't english I can relate to sounding way less smart when speaking in your second language lmao. Now I'm much better but when I just started I sounded really silly, and even today some people have the "are you stupid" reaction when I don't know a word that should be obvious or misspell things, I understand you Kuro 😔

Honestly a nice reminder that language proficiency is not an indicator for intelligence, wish it was more obvious in the anime/story itself since every time Kuro speaks to Kabru in Kobold is in an extra.

Oh yeah also fun fact Milsiril was the one to teach Kabru how to speak Kobold. Its implied in an extra. While they come from the same continent I doubt Kabru would know kobold just for that.

About Mickbell its very interesting how he's the complete opposite of chilchuck, he LOVES being treated as a kid and doesn't seem to have much of a pride

It's hard to remember how old he is because he's so childish, it's a great choice for a half-foot after we had only met Chilchuck if you ask me. Cause even adults in real life can be childish sometimes, the fact he also LOOKS like a child to us makes it even harder to see him as the adult he is, you can't keep getting away with things by being cute Mickbell <3 (he can).

Also his dream is to buy a house for him and Kuro, I don't think there's any doubt their relationship is based in mutual affection, even if Mickbell pretends he's Kuro's boss (and that he should be more respectfull), they're both the only one the other has when it comes to family.My thoughts

[anonymouscheeses]

Im sorry i have to say it..: Get Your Hands Dirty sounds like a love song.

HEAR. ME. OUTT!! (No i dont mean a love song between Chloe n Ella omg 😭)

What I'm implying here is that it sounds like one of those niche high school love stories when one of the lovers(most likely a goodie two-shoes) goes to their mentor/parent/even the person their loving/etc to ask for advice on relationships. Or more specifically, if this person is worth it or even a good person. From the top of my head: I Won't Say (I'm In Love) and the goodie and the wildchild dynamic is pretty similar to Gabriella and Troy from hs musical, which iws(iil) kinda inspired this post tbh but also ive been thinking about this ever since i first watched the movie. (You plop in ur own songs, i js KNOW this trope exists)

Now that we've established the well used niche trope existing in this niche song made by the niche king that is Disney.... why do i think that Get Your Hands Dirty is a love song, i hear?

Lets analyze THE LYRIICS 😈😈

"Right and wrong, cruel and kind, who's to say?" "There's a code that I believe in."

"Robin Hood" "yeah?" "Awesome guy" "yeah!"

"Every choice, you're gonna find there's shades of grey." "There are rules for a reason!"

"So you could then cross that line, theoretically."

"You'd agree?" "But he stole for the poor."

"The decision's always up to you. When there's only one thing left to do"

"I don't know you anymore.."

Okay, so i shortened and made it tiny for obvious reasons, that bein its too long 😭 so! AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO GETS A FEEELIN?? a feelin that this is SCREAMING denial?! Its giving...

Chloe: Ellaaaa.... this girl im talkn to is SOOO HHHOOOOTT and PRETTY and cool and stuff but ugh.... SHE EEEVILLL!!

Ella: oh my gosh.. STFU. Shes prolly not even that evil ill prove it smh..

*get ur hands dirty starts playing. No exaggeration. No cap.*

"Okay, but there's some universal truths you must recognize." "Like?"

"Valiant knights, pure and good, guaranteed" "That depends on what they're fighting for"

"Creepy witches selling potions for evil deeds" "She could have kids she's providing for"

"If your good-good things will come to you"

MORE denial, Chloe wants to be friends with Red SO bad she looks stupid, but she brings herself back by trying to prove to herself that she's evil and they SHOULDN'T be that close. Which also is a big sign of comphet and heteronormativity, i would know 🧍 (which is a post for another day i might make. Prolly 2 prove that Chloe is a lesbian in deep comphet)

"But just how far do you go? How much do you compromise? Oh, tell me, how do you know. Where do you draw the line?"

"There's nothing I wouldn't do. If my heart tells me it's right. If it's for someone I love. If it's to save a life."

"To save your life."

Further deepening the trope i mentioned. The first line could be interpreted as a double meaning since the song is kind of mostly about Chloe coming to terms with the fact Red isn't really evil or as bad as she thought, plus the argument of where the line between evil and good is. It could refer to Red or Ella, maybe both, but Ella changes the meaning with her own experiences so it drifts off the focus from Red because we cant have ANYTHING 🤧 but i still believe Chloe intended it to be for Red since the entire song is really just for the progress of their relationship n stuff.

Now this could definitely all be in my head, yes, Disney would most likely NEVER canonize or even imply heavily a queer relationship or anything lgbtq on a pre established franchise (cowards.). But there is always a chance.... deep inside the dark heart of the mouse..

Plus, with the subtle hints here and there of Red and Chloe's relationship growing, romantically or not, they are still super close and love eachother alot. Chloe is js (kinda) canonically a girl kisser who cant help but find a girl kissable (same)

And don't get me started on this movie and its obsession with love and proving how it is not "ain't it". Hello...? They set the tone of love, but i see NO person close enough to Red established for this message (other than Chloe) and if they introduce some random guy in the next movies, NO ONE would care nor would they want it unless somehow its 100x better than redcharming, but thats impossible cz wlw 4 life.

So, this entire thingy is me basically finding scraps and wanting to provr that charminghearts IS canon and WILL be established soon! (Im delulu)