#i thought that the fandom had made up them

[thatonebirdwrites]

Gosh, I can relate to this.

I think about what fandom is a lot since I sort of lurk in a lot of spaces (until I feel brave enough to speak or share).

First off, the point of this addition isn't to guilt trip anyone, but to get people thinking about what community means. What inclusion means, and what engagement means. And how those are interconnected.

One of the crucial pillars of fandom, and the reason fandom exists at all is because of community.

Writing fanfiction and sharing it for free is about building community with one another. It's people who loved a show/movie/book enough that they wanted to play in the world longer, so they play together in that world with other people who love it too. That's what fanworks are -- it's people playing together in community because of a love toward a specific series/media.

But community requires communication. It requires building connections. It requries engaging one another.

I write long fics. In fact, adding up the word counts of my fics in AO3? It's well over a million words in two different fandoms. These are free novels written because the community had been welcoming at first and it had encouraged me to keep going.

But I made a mistake. Two of these projects (in two separate fandoms) I made into a series. Because of how each part in a series means the sequel gets less engagement, it feels like I'm watching a community dissolve, and that's painful. I don't get paid for this. It's all free, and part of the reason I went to fanfic writing was because of community.

Lack of engagement gives, often unintentionally, the author the message that they aren't really part of the fandom's community. At least not anymore (if they ever were).

Some say, "Well, don't write for your readers!"

Well, no, I don't write for my readers, but the act of sharing for free is me giving to the community and building up community.

But part of building up community requires people to give back in turn. Oherwise the community will fracture and fall apart.

The reason fandom exists at all is because of community.

It's the community part of fandom that has helped me to heal enough to write again, but when that community dries up or no longer engages with me, then what am I to do? I've lost that community, and if I continue to engage with it and get very little (if not nothing) in return, then at that point, I'm throwing my energy into a void in hopes for a scrap of community.

It ceases to fulfill the need. It leaves me feeling lost and alone. And finding out later how much people loved a fic I wrote but that fic received very little engagement? It tells me that I'm not loved as a person within the community.

I have watched and listen to people talk about how much it hurts when the work they put in so much effort in for the community gets little to no engagement. It often pushes them to engage less, to stop writing, and watching that happen? It hurts to see.

Community requires communication. Do not treat an fanfic author like a kiosk, where you grab the story and run. Treat them like they are part of your community. By doing so, by including them, you bolster their sense of belonging and are more likely to get stories in return.

Community needs to be reciprocal. And I fear fandoms are losing that understanding of what community is. They expect and sometimes demand more, but what are they doing to support that fanfic writer or artist? Are they engaging them and uplifting them within the community? Or are they not engaging them?

If you read an author's work and love it, include them in that community by sharing your thoughts in a comment. You don't necessarily have to comment on every chapter of a longer work (Though it is so lovely some do), but to at least offer up comments here and there to be inclusive of that author.

Engagement bolsters the community bond.

The lack of engagement breaks the community bond.

And that's a sort of grief. Us writers came for community and to share our love of the fandom with others. When we fail to be included in that community, it will hurt. It's a type of rejection that people may not even realize they are doing.

Community requires communication, and for fandoms, part of that communication is comments, kudos, (and gosh, even tumblr asks).

I hope that helps give people another perspective to consider.

Think it over. Think about what you'd like to give back to the creators in your community.

And please understand, if you can only give back one or so comments? That's okay and valid, and that too builds up community.

Even little actions matter.

Never think your small action doesn't matter or that your comment or kudos doesn't matter. It does. It helps build community too.

Thanks for reading. Be safe.

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[rootedinrevisions]

Through the Wreckage

SUMMARY: When a devastating tornado tears through town, Tyler Owens faces his worst nightmare: the woman he loves is missing. Tyler is thrust into a desperate search through the wreckage to find her. As the storm's aftermath unfolds, it forces him to confront his fears, regrets, and hopes for the future.

A/N: So got inspired for this after watching Twisters earlier today. Just the anguish that we saw from Tyler when he realized Kate was driving into the tornado made me wonder what would happen if the person he loved was missing or in danger. Hence where we ended up here.

WARNINGS: Destruction (ie: a tornado hit so damaged buildings, smoke, dust, sparks, etc.), Blood, Minor Injuries.

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The tires screeched as Tyler pulled up to the scene, gravel crunching beneath his truck. He barely shifted into park before throwing the door open and jumping out. His boots hit the ground with a thud, and the first thing his eyes locked on was the building—partially collapsed, its front wall completely gone. The inside was exposed like a broken shell, with beams hanging at jagged angles and smoke or dust curling into the air from where drywall and bricks had crumbled. His heart sank like a stone in his chest. This wasn’t good.

Behind him, Boone’s truck came to a stop, followed by Dani, Dexter, and Lily piling out of their vehicles. Tyler barely registered the sound of their voices calling his name as they ran toward him. His world had narrowed to the destruction in front of him, and one thought pounded in his mind: She’s in there.

Pulling his phone from his pocket with shaking hands, Tyler checked the last location pinged from your phone. His stomach twisted. It matched this address. He swallowed hard, the weight of dread pressing down on him as his eyes scanned the crowd of people that had been pulled from the building and huddled together on the other side of the street. His pulse quickened as he searched for you, desperate for even a glimpse of your face. But you weren’t there.

“Tyler, man, slow down,” Boone said, gripping his shoulder as he came up beside him. “Let’s figure out what’s going on—”

“She’s not out here,” Tyler cut him off, his voice tight and raw. “She’s not with them.” He gestured toward the crowd of people being tended to by paramedics. 

His chest heaved as the realization hit him like a freight train: You were still inside.

Without another word, he turned and made a beeline toward the first responders standing near the edge of the debris. His strides were long and determined, his jaw set in grim determination as he ignored Boone’s calls to slow down. 

The closer he got, the more chaos surrounded him. The air smelled of smoke and damp concrete, and the sound of crackling debris mixed with shouts from firefighters. But none of it mattered.

“Did everyone get out?” Tyler shouted, his voice hoarse as he reached the nearest firefighter. “Did you see a woman—about this tall, light hair?” He motioned frantically, his green eyes darting around. 

He already knew the answer from their hesitant expressions, but he refused to accept it.

“Sir,” one of them started, stepping forward, “it’s not safe—we weren’t able to get to everyone.”

“Where. Is. She?” Tyler growled, his frustration boiling over. His voice cracked, raw with fear and desperation. “Her phone’s still pinging from here! I need to know if she made it out!”

Another firefighter shook his head grimly. “We’re still doing sweeps, but the building’s unstable. Most of the front wall came down in the collapse. We can’t risk—”

“Bullshit!” Tyler snapped, cutting him off as he took a step toward the wreckage.

Boone and Dexter were on him in an instant, grabbing his arms to hold him back.

“Tyler, don’t,” Boone urged, his voice low and firm. “You can’t go in there, man. It’s not safe. They’ll handle it.”

“She’s in there!” Tyler shouted, wrenching free from their grip. His voice cracked as he pointed toward the ruined building. “I know she is, Boone! I’m not waiting around while they do their sweeps!” His voice was shaking now, and for a moment, the raw emotion broke through his resolve. His chest heaved, his shoulders trembling as he ran a hand over his face, trying to block out the fear clawing at his mind.

The building groaned, a deep, unsettling sound that warned of further collapse. Tyler’s eyes darted toward it, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. 

If you were inside, he wasn’t about to stand by and let the clock run out.

“I’m going in,” he muttered under his breath, and before anyone could stop him, he broke into a sprint toward the wreckage.

“Sir! Stop! You can’t go in there!” a firefighter yelled, his voice sharp with authority.

Another called out, “It’s too dangerous! The structure’s not stable!”

But Tyler didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down. The sound of boots pounding behind him told him Boone or Dexter was probably trying to catch him, but he didn’t care. All he could see was the shattered entrance ahead, the gaping maw of destruction that had swallowed you whole.

As he crossed the threshold, the air inside hit him like a wall—thick with dust and smoke, making it hard to breathe. He pulled his shirt up over his nose and mouth, squinting to see through the haze. The floor was littered with debris—chunks of drywall, splintered wood, and jagged shards of glass. Wires hung loose from the ceiling, some sparking as they dangled.

The creak of shifting metal echoed through the space, and Tyler froze for a moment, his eyes darting upward. A beam groaned overhead, threatening to give way. He clenched his jaw and forced himself to move, stepping carefully over a fallen section of wall.

“Darlin’,” he shouted, his voice hoarse and strained. “Where are you?”

His heart pounded in his chest as he scanned the wreckage, his eyes darting from one pile of debris to the next. The oppressive silence was broken only by the occasional crackle of sparks or the distant shouts of first responders outside.

“Come on, darlin’. Give me something,” he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling. He tried to focus, to ignore the dread clawing at the edges of his mind.

Tyler’s boot crunched on something, and he looked down to see a broken picture frame, the glass shattered across the floor. Around it were scattered papers, children’s drawings, and a few books covered in dust. He swallowed hard, the small remnants of normal life a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding him.

Pushing forward, he weaved through the destruction, stepping over overturned chairs and avoiding the sharp edges of broken furniture. The air grew hotter the deeper he went, the faint smell of something burning making his stomach churn.

And then he saw it.

A shoe.

Tyler’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized it—your shoe, half-buried beneath a pile of rubble. He stumbled forward, dropping to his knees as his shaking hands reached for it.

“Sweetheart?” he called, his voice breaking. He tossed aside chunks of drywall and splintered wood, the sharp edges cutting into his palms. Blood smeared across the debris as he worked, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was getting to you.

Finally, he uncovered your leg, and his heart seized. You were pinned beneath the debris, your body motionless. Dust and grime streaked your face, and your hair was tangled with bits of plaster.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers were gentle, but his hands shook uncontrollably.

Leaning closer, he pressed his fingers to the side of your neck, searching desperately for a pulse. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. And then he felt it—a faint, fragile beat beneath his fingertips.

Relief flooded him, and a choked sob escaped his lips. 

“Thank God,” he breathed. “I’ve got you, darlin’. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

At the sound of his voice, you stirred faintly, your head shifting against the debris that cradled it. The faintest groan escaped your lips, so quiet he almost missed it. Tyler froze, his heart skipping a beat as his eyes shot to your face.

“Darlin’?” He said, his voice trembling with equal parts hope and fear. He cupped your face with one dirt-streaked hand, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Hey, hey, it’s me. Can you hear me, sweetheart?”

Your brow furrowed slightly, and your lips moved, though no sound came out at first. He leaned closer, his ear inches from your face.

“Ty...” The broken syllable fell from your lips like a lifeline, and his chest ached at the sound of it.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Your eyes fluttered weakly, just barely cracking open, but it was enough. Enough to send relief crashing over him in a wave so powerful it left him dizzy.

“Oh, thank God,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to grip yours. He squeezed it gently, willing his strength into you. “Stay with me. Keep those eyes on me, okay? You’re gonna be fine. I promise.”

You tried to say something else, your voice a faint whisper he couldn’t quite make out. He shook his head, tears pricking his eyes as he crouched lower to meet your gaze.

“Don’t try to talk,” he urged softly. “Just save your strength, darlin’. I’m getting you out of here. Just stay with me, okay? That’s all I need you to do. Stay with me.”

The faintest flicker of a nod came from you, but it was enough to shatter the fragile composure he’d been clinging to. His free hand pressed to his mouth as he choked back a sob, his chest heaving with the weight of his fear and relief.

The building groaned again, a deep, ominous sound that sent a shiver down his spine. He knew he didn’t have much time. He slid his arms beneath you, cradling you against his chest as he stood.

With you in his arms, Tyler turned toward the exit, his focus unwavering despite the chaos around him. All that mattered was getting you out of here alive.

Tyler adjusted his grip on you, holding you closer as he stepped carefully over the uneven ground. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

The air inside the building was suffocating. Smoke and dust hung thick like a heavy fog, clawing at his lungs with every breath. His throat burned, and each inhale felt like dragging sandpaper across raw skin. He coughed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before forcing them open again. He couldn’t lose focus—not now.

Sparks rained down from a severed electrical wire overhead, the sharp sting biting into the exposed skin of his arms. He flinched, gritting his teeth as the acrid smell of singed fabric filled the air. 

“Stay with me, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice rough and desperate as he looked down at you. “We’re almost out of here.”

Your body shifted slightly in his arms, and a soft, raspy cough escaped your lips. Tyler’s heart jumped at the sound. Panic surged through him, as he saw how shallow your breathing was.

“You still with me?” He called, his voice cracking. “Hey, can you hear me? Talk to me, sweetheart.”

You coughed again, your eyelids fluttering briefly but not opening. A weak, almost inaudible groan escaped you.

“That’s it,” Tyler said, his tone urgent but soft like he was coaxing you back to him. “You’re doing good. Just keep breathing for me, okay? We’re getting out of here.”

He stumbled slightly as the ground beneath him shifted—a section of flooring sagging under the weight of the debris. Tyler’s knees buckled for a moment, and he tightened his grip on you, his heart racing.

“Dammit,” he muttered, steadying himself before pressing forward.

The building groaned around him, the sound of metal twisting and concrete cracking growing louder. He could feel time running out.

Another section of ceiling collapsed behind him, sending a fresh plume of dust into the air. Tyler ducked instinctively, shielding you as debris rained down. A sharp edge grazed the back of his neck, and he winced, but he didn’t stop moving.

The exit was just ahead—a faint sliver of light visible through the haze. Tyler pushed toward it, his legs trembling with exertion. His vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges as the lack of clean air began to take its toll.

His steps faltered, and he coughed violently, nearly doubling over. For a moment, he thought his legs might give out, but then he felt a small, trembling hand against his chest. Your hand gripped weakly at his shirt, your head lolling slightly against his shoulder.

“T-Tyler...” you rasped, your voice barely audible. 

His breath hitched, and he forced himself to keep moving. 

“I’m here,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’ve got you, darlin’. Just hang on.”

The exit grew closer, but the smoke thickened, clawing at his throat and lungs. Tyler stumbled again, his knees hitting the floor as his body screamed for oxygen.

“No,” he growled, shaking his head as he clutched you tighter. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself back to his feet, ignoring the way his legs trembled beneath him.

The light from the exit grew brighter, and he could hear the distant shouts of first responders outside. They sounded muffled like he was underwater, but it gave him just enough hope to keep going.

Sparks rained down again, burning his exposed arms and neck, but Tyler turned his body to shield you, hunching over as he pushed through the final stretch. His back felt like it was on fire, the fabric of his shirt sticking to blistering skin, but he didn’t slow down.

Finally, he broke through the haze, stumbling out onto the pavement. The fresh air hit him like a punch to the chest, and he gasped, his knees giving out as he sank to the ground.

“Help! Somebody—” he coughed violently, his voice raw and barely audible. “Somebody help her!”

Paramedics rushed toward him, but Tyler’s focus was on you. Your face was pale, streaked with dust and sweat, but your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. He reached up to brush a trembling hand against your cheek, his fingers stained with soot and blood.

“Stay with me, sweetheart. You’re safe now.” He whispered, his voice cracking as tears welled in his eyes. 

Tyler cradled you in his arms, his knees rooted to the pavement as the chaos of the world around him blurred into background noise. His only focus was you.

Your head lolled weakly against his chest, and your breaths were growing more shallow and uneven by the minute. A fresh wave of panic crashed over him as your eyelids fluttered, threatening to close.

“Hey,” he called softly, his voice trembling. “No, no, darlin’, stay with me. Look at me.”

Your eyes opened slightly, your gaze unfocused as you struggled to lift your head.

“I… can’t,” you murmured, the words barely audible.

“Yes, you can,” he said, his tone firm but full of emotion. “You’re not quittin’ on me now, you hear me?”

You coughed softly, your body trembling in his arms. Tyler adjusted his grip, pulling you closer as if he could shield you from the pain and the fear.

“We have plans, remember?” His voice cracked as he spoke, tears welling in his eyes. “Dinner tonight, just you and me. You told me you wanted to get dressed up, and said I needed to wear that tie you like. I’m not lettin’ you out of that, sweetheart. You still owe me a dance.”

A weak smile tugged at the corners of your lips, but it quickly faded as your eyelids grew heavier.

“And the church,” he continued, desperation lacing his words. “The little church your parents got married in. We’ll get married there, just like you’ve always wanted. You can wear that lace dress you talked about, the one you saw at the boutique last spring.”

You made a small sound, something between a laugh and a sob, and your fingers twitched weakly against his chest.

“And kids,” Tyler added, his voice breaking completely now. “Two–hell, however many you want. We’ll give ‘em the best damn life, I promise you that. Just… just stay with me, darlin’. Please.”

Your eyes fluttered open again, glassy but fixed on him.

“Three or four?” you rasped, a faint hint of amusement in your tone.

Tyler let out a shaky laugh, relief washing over him like a flood. He cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing away a smudge of dirt from your cheek.

“Yeah, three or four is perfect, darlin’,,” he said, his forehead pressing against yours as his tears mingled with the soot on his face. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. Just tell me the names you’ve got picked out, and I’ll make it happen.”

You gave a weak, tired smile, and he could feel the slight rise and fall of your chest against his. But your body still felt too limp, too fragile in his arms.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes again,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “Stay with me, sweetheart. Stay with me.”

Your gaze flickered once more, but before he could plead again, the paramedics swarmed around you.

“Sir, we need to take her now,” one of them said urgently, but Tyler’s arms tightened instinctively around you.

“I’m not leavin’ her,” he said fiercely, his eyes wild as he looked up at them.

“We need space to help her,” the paramedic insisted, their tone gentle but firm.

Tyler hesitated, his heart warring with his head as he realized he had no choice. He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“You hang on, you hear me?” he whispered, his voice shaking.

Reluctantly, he let them take you from his arms, his hands trembling as he watched them load you onto the stretcher. His heart clenched painfully as he saw your pale, dust-streaked face disappear behind the blur of paramedics working to save you.

* * * *

The waiting room of the hospital felt like a void. Time moved differently here, stretching out each second into an eternity. Tyler sat hunched over in a plastic chair, his forearms resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together. Boone, Dani, Dexter, and Lily sat nearby, their voices low and subdued as they tried to offer support. But Tyler didn’t hear them. His mind was stuck in the chaos of the collapsed building, the sound of your ragged breaths, the weight of your fragile body in his arms.

He stared at the double doors down the hallway, willing someone to come through them with news. Good news. Any news. His burned skin throbbed beneath the bandages the ER nurses had wrapped around him, but he didn’t care. The only pain that mattered was the fear clawing at his chest. The fear of losing you.

“T,” Boone said quietly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “She’s strong. She’s gonna pull through.”

Tyler nodded absently, his throat too tight to respond. He wanted to believe Boone, but the image of you lying so still, your face pale and streaked with dust, was seared into his mind.

The doors finally swung open, and a doctor stepped into the waiting room. Tyler shot to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Tyler Owens?” the doctor asked, glancing around the room.

“That’s me,” he said, his voice hoarse.

The doctor smiled softly, and Tyler’s knees nearly buckled with relief.

“She’s stable,” the doctor said. “She inhaled a lot of smoke, and there’s some bruising from the debris, but no major injuries. She’s going to be okay.”

Tyler exhaled a shaky breath, his hands dragging down his face as the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders.

“Can I see her?” Tyler asked, his voice cracking.

“Of course,” the doctor replied. “She’s awake, but she’s still weak. Try to keep it short for now.”

Tyler nodded, barely hearing the last part as he followed the doctor down the hallway. His boots echoed on the tile floor, the sound somehow both grounding and surreal.

When he stepped into your room, his chest tightened at the sight of you. You were propped up in the hospital bed, an oxygen mask resting lightly over your nose and mouth. The faint beeping of the monitors was a comforting reminder that you were still here, still breathing.

Your eyes fluttered open when you heard him, and despite the exhaustion etched into your face, you managed a small smile.

“Hey, cowboy,” you whispered, your voice muffled by the mask.

Tyler’s lips curved into a smile, and he pulled a chair up to your bedside, sitting down with a sigh of relief. He reached for your hand, his fingers curling gently around yours.

“You scared the hell outta me,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Don’t ever do that again, you hear me?”

“I’ll try,” you teased weakly, your fingers giving his hand the faintest squeeze.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Tyler’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, his eyes drinking in the sight of you as if to convince himself you were really okay.

“I meant what I said out there,” he finally murmured, his gaze locking with yours.

You frowned slightly in confusion. “What part?”

“All of it,” he said. “The church, the kids, everything. I want it all with you, darlin’. I want to marry you, and I’ll wear whatever you tell me to.”

You laughed softly, the sound raspy but real, and Tyler’s heart swelled.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you said, your smile softening as tears welled in your eyes. “I want it all too, Tyler. I always have.”

Tyler leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Then let’s start with dinner,” he said. “Soon as you’re out of here, I’m takin’ you to the nicest place in town. No storms, no distractions, just you and me.”

Your fingers tightened around his as you nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Deal. Can we have Italian?”

For the first time in hours, Tyler let himself relax, a small smile playing on his lips as he whispered, “Sure, sweetheart. Anything you want.”

[violenteconomics]

so it’s pretty popular in this fandom for the overblotters to have a support group going on, and that’s all well and good and we’ve got a lot of amazing stuff out of it (shameless segue into compelling you to read the “girls in wonderland” series by the lovely jxnebug on ao3, please, it’s awesome), but can you just. like. imagine for a second that everybody else has a support group too, because goodness gracious, do the people who have to witness the overblots need so much therapy.

like. i imagine that it starts off with the first-years and their weekly ramshackle hangouts, and then they all start venting to each other about all the trauma they’ve gone through in the past year, which, thanks to yuu, becomes an unofficial, very unqualified support group.

ace: hey. i’m ace trappola. during my first week at night raven college i had to wear a collar around my neck at all times and didn’t even get to sleep in my dorm, which is probably for the best, because i couldn’t really sleep with that stupid collar anyway. i slaved away making a chestnut tart to apologize to my housewarden with, only to have my apology literally thrown into the trash. and when my best friend tried to stick up for me, they got called stupid and undereducated. and my other upperclassmen just enabled him. i almost got killed twice in that week, and many more times afterwards.

deuce: hello, i’m deuce spade. and i promised myself that i would become the best person i could be for my mom, only to fall short of my own expectations every single time, except for when i literally sign my soul away. i had such high hopes for my housewarden and upperclassmen to guide me to a better future, only to come to the realization that they’re even more flawed than i am. so, basically, there is nobody who can help me now, and i’m doomed to the path i made with my own hands.

jack: this is so unnecessary. jack howl. basically what deuce said, but combine that with the fact that, when you first met, your upperclassmen didn’t have any problems with getting rid of you if it meant their path to victory was assured. your dormmates will never admit that they’re wrong and sooner rip your ear out than say they like you to your face. but you care a lot about them, and deep down, maybe they care a lot about you, too. but the only thing they can do that would prove that in your eyes is improve themselves. become better. be the people you thought they were when you got here. and that is the one thing they will never do.

epel: howdy. my name is epel felmier. my housewarden is all about personal improvement. he’s right to think that i need to rework my thinking about gender and strength, because they are not equal in any way. other than that, though, he has no investment in me as a person. i’m not allowed to eat whatever i want. if he tells me to perform, that’s what i do. if i slip up even a little, he scolds me for being lazy. my posture must be perfect, my diction clear, and my hair flawless. he puts the same pressure on himself to be perfect, so it’s not like he’s a hypocrite. but that’s the thing, isn’t it? he likes me for the things i do — and he hates the person i am.

ortho: hello, world. my name is ortho shroud. not the real one, though. i’m just a poor simulacrum of him that my big brother forged from the flames of his grief and the metal of his self-loathing. but even though idia put his soul into constructing me, i can never truly be the person he wants me to be. my only purpose, and i can’t even do it correctly. for almost my entire life up to this point, idia loved his dead brother more than he loved me, and i just had to be okay with that, because the nature of the STYX organization mean that i didn’t have anybody else. and the one time i tried to change that, i corrupted my brother and almost ended the world.

sebek: greetings. i am sebek zigvolt. i nearly perished recently. the prince that i admired so dearly tried to put everybody to sleep, and in trying to stop him, i very nearly lost a dear friend of mine to the secrets hidden inside his father’s brain. the whole time, i felt distinctly out of place. it was like i was watching one of those soap operas master lilia loves so much. only ever looking. never touching. right before me was a broken family that i only wanted to see come back together, but i couldn’t fix it. for it was not my family to fix. i was helpless. useless. but that is nothing new.

yuu: …hi. i’m yuu. i was ripped out of my home and isekai’d into this world that’s filled with mentally unstable magic people who tried to kill me more than a couple times. i am currently living paycheck-to-paycheck while going to school full-time thanks to a crow who doesn’t know how to adult. and clearly, we all have a lot of work to do.

this goes on for a couple of weeks with just them, but then sebek decides to invite silver, because he’s prolly not doing so hot post-book 7 (and also, silver is basically the freshmen’s official big brother at this point, let’s be real) and then silver invites kalim a few weeks later, who invites ruggie, and then it just sort of snowballs out of control from there.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Twisted Weddings: - Introduction

Author Notes: This is the first part of my 800 Followers celebration event for the Twisted Wonderland fandom. This is just going to be the introduction section for the story itself (which is going to be 9 sections in total). I chose the wedding theme on a whim based on a fic I read a long time ago on AO3 that has long sense gone missing, but no one is actually going to be getting married. Reader is going to be female for the sake of my own ease for this series. I hope everyone enjoys!

Type: Female reader/ sfw/ fluff/ featuring Crewel (Note for sake of avoiding confusion: This is not x Crewel)

Word count: 775

I frowned slightly at Crewel as he sat down across from me, a stack of papers in his hands that he slowly laid out. One sheet at a time.

“I’ve recently finished designing a line of wedding dresses and suits,” He spoke as he fanned the sheets out across the table. Each page had a sketched-out design of a wedding gown that had me blinking slightly in surprise.

Of course I’d known that Crewel was a designer. As if his fashionable nature wasn’t enough to tip me off, then Vil talking about his clothing line would have been. I hadn’t realized that he designed bridal clothes, though. And I certainly didn’t know what these clothes had to do with me or why he’d called me in to look at them.

I slowly glanced back up at my instructor as he continued, utterly calm despite my wary confusion, “I’m wanting to market each of these dresses differently than I usually would though. You see, this is my first line of bridal designs.”

I nodded, shifting slightly in my seat as Crewel eyed me, “I’ve decided that, along with the runaway models, I would do an advertising campaign where I have just one woman model all the gowns with varying different grooms.”

I blinked, already seeing where this was heading but not quite able to keep myself from staring at him in surprise in a way that had him smiling at me, “Of course I’ll pay you for modeling all eight gowns.”

I glanced down at the page in front of me, a picture of a classic wedding dress. Pristine white with a veil and looking like it was directly out of a fairytale. But as I glanced back up at Crewel, I shook my head slightly in blatant disbelief, “But I’m not a model…..”

“That’s what will make these ads more unique. You aren’t a model of any sort, and yet you will be the bride for this marketing campaign and will be far more relatable to prospective brides looking for a dress.”

I had to hand it to him; he’d come prepared. And I couldn’t deny that earning some money was attractive when I considered the state Ramshackle dorm was in.

There was no telling how many repairs I’d be able to manage with whatever Crewel was willing to pay me.

“The campaign will consist of seven pictures for magazines and billboards and one video for television advertising. For each dress, you will be paired with a different groom,” He continued calmly. Clearly explaining his plan for the marketing campaign even as I weigh my options.

“Are the models of the groom’s suits going to be professional?” I tilted my head when I spoke, and he hummed in response before shaking his head. 

How he avoided sending any of his black hair into the white half of his head or vice versa was beyond me, but I didn’t question it as he responded, “Only one. As I said, there’s going to be a different model for the grooms in each image. I thought it would be more interesting to use other fresh faces for this campaign for the grooms.”

I felt my eyebrows arch, “But wouldn't it make more sense to just use one model for the suits since you’re just going to be using one for the gowns?”

Crewel frowned, a flicker of annoyance going through his gaze as his eyes met mine, and I tilted my head slightly, “That was the plan, but the candidates for modeling being how they were made things difficult.”

“And who are the candidates?” I couldn’t help the wariness that slipped into my tone, and Crewel sighed slightly before handing me a stack of pictures that was filled with familiar faces.

“They ended up being the winners. Whether they entered themselves or were entered by someone else,” As he spoke, I sifted through the pictures.

Trey, Ruggie, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, Sebek, and Leona.

“Winners?” I echoed him amusedly, and Crewel shook his head. 

There was a perfectly annoyed expression on his face as he frowned down at the pictures in my hands, “Suffice to say they all turned it into a competition.”

I almost wanted to ask exactly how this supposed ‘competition’ went down, but thought better of it as I took a secondary glance at Crewel’s expression.

I shrugged lightly, laying the pictures down on top of the wedding sketches, “Well, I can’t really think of any reason to say no to modeling for you…”

I trailed off and Crewel nodded, back to business as usual as he collected all the papers, “Then we’ll start tomorrow.”

If you would like to read more

Next: Coming Soon!

[kiwriteswords]

My "Unpopular" Aaron Hotchner Opinions*

*My opinions, solely! I am not trying to discredit anyone else's headcanons, thoughts, etc.! These are just my thoughts, which I was encouraged to share despite being really terrified to share some of them because they go against the grain.

Also, some of these are NSFW!

Aaron Hotchner would not date someone who was in their twenties. As much as my twenty-something-year-old self would love that, I don't see him realistically picking a partner with such a significant age gap.

Reasonings:

Hotch is a profoundly introspective and careful man. He would hesitate if he felt the age gap could lead to judgment or imbalance in the relationship. He would also be hyper-aware of the psychology behind older men gravitating toward younger partners.

He would worry about differing life stages (e.g., career ambitions, desire for children), causing long-term complications.

Aaron Hotchner would not date a member of the BAU.

Reasonings:

As the leader of the BAU, Hotch holds himself to high ethical standards. He’d worry about how a romantic relationship with a subordinate could appear, not only to his team but also to higher-ups in the FBI. He would not want to waver the team's or his superior's trust.

Hotch has a need to keep work and personal separate as much as possible; these blurred lines don't seem like something I could see Hotch crossing.

Aaron Hotchner would not be as dominant in the bedroom as one would think. However, he would lean more into this if his partner was into it, but not outwardly for himself, as I often read.

Resonings:

While Hotch is a natural leader, he does not seek power for power's sake--it's always about responsibility and protection. A lot of his natural leadership qualities come as a trauma response, and I believe he might let that down entirely in an intimate setting.

Hotch’s romantic and sexual relationships would likely be an outlet for him to shed his professional stoicism and connect authentically. He wouldn’t want to bring elements of authority or control into that space, as it would conflict with his desire to be vulnerable.

Aaron Hotchner would not want to be called "Daddy" in the bedroom; again, he may lean into this if his partner was for it, but I do not see him outwardly wanting this.

Reasonings:

As a leader, Hotch is very aware of power dynamics and strives to ensure equality and fairness in all relationships. He would probably be uncomfortable with any dynamic that places him in a position of authority or dominance, particularly one that invokes paternal connotations.

The show strongly implies that Hotch’s relationship with his father was strained and possibly abusive. He has mentioned that his father was strict and may have instilled a fear-driven form of respect rather than genuine love. Given this background, it’s unlikely Hotch would want to emulate any dynamic reminiscent of a “father figure” in a non-familial, intimate context. It might even be triggering for him.

Aaron Hotchner would likely not be the fantastic father we all write about if it were not for Haley's death and Jess's support.

Reasonings:

Hotch’s transformation into a great father was largely a result of Haley’s death, forcing him to reprioritize and step into a role he might not have fully embraced otherwise. While he always loved Jack, the tragic loss gave him no choice but to confront his shortcomings and dedicate himself to being there for his son. If Haley had lived, Hotch’s role as a father would likely have remained secondary to his career, with much of the emotional and practical parenting responsibilities falling to Haley.

The Jess of it all also comes down to writing, for the writers to plausibly continue having Hotch be this great leader and agent while also stepping up to the plate as a father. He realistically could not do it both.

On this note, I hate how villainized Haley is in the fandom. Haley wasn’t a villain—she was a woman who made a difficult but necessary decision for her and Jack’s well-being. Her divorce from Hotch doesn’t diminish her love for him or her sacrifices as a partner and mother. It highlights the complexities of relationships and how even two people who care deeply for one another can struggle to make it work under extreme circumstances. Blaming Haley oversimplifies their story and ignores her humanity.

Aaron Hotchner and Beth lacked chemistry, and it felt very OOC for Hotch to be so unaffected by their parting ways; this is more a flaw in the writing versus the character(s) or fandom.

Reasonings:

Beth was introduced abruptly and with minimal background, leaving her character feeling one-dimensional. The audience didn’t have enough time to understand her motivations or personality, making it difficult to invest in her relationship with Hotch. She felt more like a plot device to show Hotch moving forward post-Haley than a fully realized partner for him. This, again, falls on the fact that Bellamy Young had moved onto Scandal, and they were forced to end things with that plot, so who knows where it actually would have ended up. 

Their dynamic felt almost too casual, which was jarring considering Hotch’s usual intensity in his relationships, especially after Haley’s death. Also, I think Hotch might be suspect of the idea of someone kind of watching him in the park for so long? But I do feel like the writers had no other way for Hotch to realistically meet someone.

Beth’s role could have been an opportunity to explore how Hotch balances dating with being a single father and leading the BAU. Instead, their relationship was surface-level and didn’t push Hotch toward any real emotional growth. The writers didn’t use Beth to challenge Hotch’s guarded nature or explore how he might rebuild trust and intimacy after Haley’s death. Too much was going on during this season and the following, but they opened the door for this and did nothing. 

When Beth and Hotch part ways, Hotch appears surprisingly unaffected, which feels out of character. Given his emotional depth and the weight he places on personal relationships, fans expected more from him—if not heartbreak, at least some introspection or acknowledgment of the loss. This lack of reaction felt less like a natural response for Hotch and more like the writers were rushing to close a subplot they didn’t know how to continue.

I have more, but figured I would ease into this!

[oodlyenough]

alright i started trying to write my s2 thoughts and just this one element already got long as hell and it's maybe my hottest take and most #unpopular opinion based on skimming other reactions so. whatever. i'm quarantining it to its own post god help me.

but

Speaking as someone who loved him the most in s1, to be honest I don't think Viktor's story in s2 was particularly good. I feel like they got into the season, realized they were supposed to vaguely tie into League lore, sort of haphazardly gave him some word salad speeches about evolution and emotion, and called it a day. I thought his cult motivations, the influence (or not) of the hexcore, etc were all pretty underwritten.

But in particular I'm bothered by the speech Jayce gives about Viktor "wanting to cure what [he] thought were weaknesses" and the suggestion that Viktor was doing evil blood magic because he was insecure about his disabilities and felt lesser-than because of them. This is just straight up not true in season 1. He does blood magic in 1.2-1.3 because he is DYING. It's like everyone in the show and the fandom forgot he was terminally ill. Conflating the general feel-good "love your body as it is" messaging around disability with *terminal illness* is just ... What.... in the world...?

In season one we saw *other people* treat him as lesser bc he was disabled, while Viktor's introductory speech is "nobody ever believed in [...] a poor cripple from the undercity, [but] I believed in myself". No one in s2 ever acknowledging that he took risks with the hexcore because he didn't want to die at, like, age 30 OR that by the end of s1 he had done the "morally correct" thing of accepting his mortality only for Jayce (and later Singed lol) to ignore that and plug the hexcore into him against his will... Jayce doesn't even own up to that or apologize for his role in things lmao I mean, #classic Jayce, but what is happening here.

If they wanted Viktor to be the average Spiderman villain messing around with science to cure his disabilities and unleashing eldritch horrors in the process, they could've written that in season 1 very easily. And of course it's great that Jayce loves him as he is -- to be honest season 1 never gave me any reason to think otherwise, but it's nice for Viktor to hear it, sure. But they specifically made him terminally ill only to act like that never happened, or like terminal illness is an "imperfection" you can defeat with body positivity and self-love. It's so tonally weird. I've seen a lot of people who were very moved by Jayce's speech about loving him anyway, and I'm happy people found meaning in it, but I was jaw dropped. Viktor was never "broken", yes, but he was fucking dying, and there is a difference.

[highlynerdy]

"Wen Xiao had supplied a surprising range of documentation. Some of it was rather florid poetry with a lot of barely comprehensible metaphors. Some of it was anatomical illustrations. Some manuscripts purported to be accurate historical accounts, and several were straight-up pornography with no pretence to literary style."

a fanARTifact book based on this brilliant fic by @achray1

My first fanARTifact in a cdrama fandom and I'm in love with it. It came together far easier than most of my projects do. As always, see pics and read more below.

So, I have always seen these accordion style books in cdramas, usually covered in book cloth and often given to the Emperor, but it wasn't until I watching Strange Tales of Tang Dynasty, that I saw these gorgeous wooden ones and lost my actual mind. I swooned and immediately saved them in my For Future Reference Folder of Doom.

It's not a surprise that I have been absolutely OBSESSED with Fangs of Fortune for the last few weeks (sorry non cdrama friends) and reading achray's amazing story fueled me to finally give this a try. It wasn't until I was writing this post and re-reading the fic that I realized she said scrolls and I should have tried making a scrolllllllll, aiya. There's always next time.

My wonderful husband - always one to encourage my fannish behavior - kindly took time out of his day yesterday to cut, plane, sand, and round these covers out of a piece of walnut he had lying around. He made them bigger originally and I thought they should be trimmed down a bit. I admit he was right and I should have left them larger. Ah well, next time. As per usual with these projects, I did do the research to check if walnut trees are native, or at least grow in China, and thankfully they do so moving right along.

The ones in the picture above were clearly stained and likely shellac-ed, but I only oiled mine (again with walnut oil), and pressed them over night to soak up any extra. Just look at the difference after they'd been oiled holy hell!

I experimented with quite a few ideas for attaching the text: vinyl, carving it out (no. omg. no. Carving walnut is a nightmare. I know that now), gold foiling. But I finally landed on calligraphy on paper and then adhering it on the cover like the reference image.

I went back and forth and round and round trying to decide what the cover should say. My initial thought was to translate Achray's entire fic title but that ended up being way, way too much text. So after talking with a discord friend and a lot of thought, we landed on "妖性爱习俗", which *should* translate to "Demon Sex Practices/Customs" or "The Practice of Demonic Sex" which comes from this excerpt in the fic:

"She shook herself, and stood up, mentally running through a list of all the texts— literary, historical, and medical— that she thought might or did describe demon sexual practices."

To do the text, I input the characters into a Chinese Calligraphy generator to use as reference. I don't own a brush capable of those gorgeous points, so I drew out the shapes and the followed the reference to fill them in. I did this a few times because I first made it way, waaaaay too big for the cover. I unfortunately decide to use a water based ink which, spoiler alert, will come back to bite me in the ass later.

See that bleeding. Yeah. That's my poor choice of a non waterproof ink, very thin calligraphy paper, and wheat paste asthe glue. Which I somehow didn't notice when I was doing the test on my extra board.

I decided to try out making wheat paste for the first time with this project and while I really did love the ability to remove and move around the piece you're gluing, it did not like to be stuck to the lightly oiled piece of wood so I decided after I redid the calligraphy on slightly thicker watercolor paper WITH waterproof ink, I would just stick with the tried and true PVA glue.

Lovely folks helped me decide between upper right hand corner or center placement and I'm really happy with the decision.

The inside is a torn down to size piece of an 22 x 30 Arches cold press 90lb watercolor paper, because with all my fanARTifact projects, especially the books, I like them to be usable objects in the end. I was SO fucking careful with my measuring and scoring and folding with this project y'all and I think I deserve a cookie.

I only used one piece folded up because I wanted the book to be able to remain flat/closed when it's not being used, but I think when I try this again, I will maybe try two pieces? Who knows. Certainly not me.

After all the stress of the calligraphy and the glue experiments gone wrong, it was finally assembled and put in my press with copious amounts of wax paper to protect everything.

In conclusion, this was a hell of a fun project and maybe the fastest I've ever seen a fanARTifact come together from start to finish. But I suppose one of the good things about learning all these new skills from each one of these projects will just make them come together easier (???) each time. I would love to get a nice calligraphy brush, some Xuan paper, and some ink and an inkstone to try a project like this again in the future.

I also want to try a scroll (which this should have been), stab binding, AND dragon scale binding. But, ya know, one step at a time yadda yadda.

Thank you, @achray1 for writing such wonderful, inspiring fics. And as always, if you made it to the end of my long ass posts, you deserve a cookie. 💛

[violetasteracademic]

Rambling thoughts post. Won't delete.

I learned a long time ago to stop commenting on the state of the ship war/ SJM fandom as a whole and asking people to be kinder, and anyone who has followed me for a while (which sounds silly to say since I've only been here since March) has likely witnessed my slow disillusionment of the SJM fandom space. As my therapist said, if you keep trying to clean up debris in someone's house who refuses to fix their roof, you'll drain yourself for nothing. (That was about my ex husband but hey I think it applies here.) I've also realized that in the long run, individual creators don't matter, really. There are too many creators in this space who burn out and disappear and even if it upsets or disappoints people in the moment, there is always someone to replace them. I'm very replaceable. My thoughts really don't matter. But here they are anyway.

The SJM tumblr space is extremely hostile and negative. But it isn't all hostile and negative, and the more I filter out the shipwar content and anti content (seriously, I have filters on anti elriel, anti gwynriel, anti elucien, and shipwar buzzwords like delusional, reading comprehension, touch grass, ECT and thank you to my dear friend @yourstarsmyscars for showing me how much more the filters can do than I realized!) the more free I am to see how many kind and wonderful creators there are on here making cute art and amazing fanfics and nourishing a positive fandom ecosystem.

Again, I don't matter in the long run. I'm not sure how many people even still follow me really since I've stopped engaging in the shipwars beyond art, fics, and kind posts. But I do want to let anyone out there who, like me, has had their tolerance for the ship wars plummet to the core of the earth, break through the crust in the middle of the Pacific ocean, and then drift into space, know that there IS kindness in this fandom beyond the noise. There are people doing great work on all sides, who are welcoming to all, and just trying to create something people will enjoy.

I can't say I'll be here forever, or even much longer. But I feel moved to signal boost the positivity. I also know that, although I do believe I tried very hard to be positive and not insulting the majority of the time, I had days that I let the negativity get to me and I was snarkier than I wish I would have been. I'm truly sorry if I ever made a post that even remotely hurt anyone's feelings or added to the negativity. I'd go back and delete them, but frankly they are my most popular posts and still get reblogged so it feels sort of pointless since reblogs don't get deleted.

Although I am an Elriel in my heart of hearts, I want to continue to be a welcoming space for all. If that means my followers get cut in half or only a few people interact with my posts, that's okay with me. I can't try to patch the roof of the fandom, but I can keep my own space toasty and warm for anyone looking for reprieve, regardless of who you ship. I've stated multiple times here that I'm the only Elriel in my IRL friendships, and I love my friends dearly. I tried to speak to Tumblr as a whole the way I'd speak to them, and I didn't always do that. But the world is too abysmal and scary and a lot of SJM fans come online and struggle to find a space that isn't extremely hostile and negative.

Here's to all the goofy little spooks making art, fics, texts, and transcending the shipwars and just trying to connect over the things we love.

In the words of our Lord and Savior Taylor Swift, I want to be defined by the things I love, not the things I hate.

Also still committed to writing a banger Elain Lucien and Azriel throuple once I get through my laundry list of current fics. Maybe a quadruple with Gwyn. Maybe I'll just write a giant orgy, actually.

[echantedtoon]

A Lovers' Circle (Poly Haishira x Reader) Ch18 Flamboyant Cooking

(Hearts conquered so far: Sanemi, Giyuu, Gyomei, Rengoku, Kanae, Mitsuri, and Shinobu. Only five more to go. Can you guess who's next? Note that I don't know Tengen's Wives' birthdays or favorite deserts. I'm just making it up for story. Art not mine found on Pinterest.)

Taglist: @shadyd3ar @jcrml

@tengensangel @miniverse-zen @mysteri0uz @jjamsbangtan

@the-unknown-fandom

@lavenderdropp @mimisweetz. @purplesoulsapphire

@kksmush @denkpanda18 @whomisi @lessthanimperfect @silver-rin

@namis-noodlebox

@k1ttyluverz @akiramente

@rascalraccoon @ravenclawkae1

@gilded-sunrays @crescent-blades

@yukari1k @bloodymarysgirl21

@artbyrebel @abaker74 @lunarluna9482

@rainbowidol

Remember if you want to be added to the taglist lemme know

Love is a beautiful thing.

It could move mountains, heal others, or even start a war. But you can also put love into things you do. Whether it's knitting, working out, or in your case packing up some of the food you made for Giyuu and Shinobu.

"That smells devine. What are you making?"

"Okonomiyaki and some caviar salmon onigiri." You smiled happily over your shoulder and into the living room where your boyfriend was sitting on your sofa and held a book in his hands. One carefully holding the book while the other was pressed into the pages to read the brail that was written on it. But he had his head turned when he smelt seafood. "I also have some umurice and yakisobapan." 

"Ah. I thought as such. If my nose doesn't deceive me, then I swear I smell something sweet as well." He rose a brow as the sounds of familiar footsteps skipped happily along the wood floor and a scent suddenly grabbed his attention with a hum. "Strawberries?"

"Strawberry sando sandwiches to be exact." He turned his head following the feeling of her pushing his hands from his lap as an unmistakable tray was placed down in front of him. "Didn't think I'd let you go hungry did you?"

"Hm. And I am to assume those are the sando sandwiches you speak of?" Amused he tilted his head but was not prepared for the kids to his lips that got him to drop his book on the sofa and an immediate pink color rise to his face. 

"Mwah! Yes.~ And some tea just how you like it." Another kiss this time softly placed to his forehead making his face a deeper pink as she giggled. "Now you go ahead and eat lunch. I have to finish packing up all this food I made."

He blinked before a hand covered his face. "Goodness. I might never get used to that."

"Then maybe I should kiss you more often to get you used to me "

"Gods above. You'll be the death of me."

She giggled again before footsteps retreated. "A death worth while.~ Now eat up. I'll be needing your help if I'm going to be delivering all this food."

You heard a few chuckles as you walked back into the kitchen and gave a sigh as the sight of all the food you still needed to pack up was still placed on the kitchen table, counter, and stovetop.  There was the food you'd made for Giyuu and Shinobu of course. Kanae had mentioned to you that she'd talked her sister into eating healthier and start cooking more often so you wouldn't have to cook for them anymore which was a really kind gesture. Most of the food you cooked was actually for Mitsuri whom asked you to make her a few certain deserts she's been wanting minus the ohagi Sanemi requested shyly last Friday.

So guess who spent all Thursday afternoon and all weekend baking. Your kitchen might as well have been a sauna at this point. It was hot and you had to open the window slightly to not overheat despite the cold outside. You just needed to get these all packaged up and ready to be given out tomorrow. 

As if fate was testing you again, a familiar sound sounded off as you were handling some more fruit sando sandwiches intending to pack them up for Mitsuri.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Both your heads turned towards the door instinctively before you sighed and shouted at the top of your lungs from the kitchen. "The door's open! Come in!"

A moment of silence passed by before the doorknob turned with a creak and the front door opened up with a rush of cold air that had Gyomei shivering. A moment later a head of red hair stuck itself inside with a wide smile. 

"Hello!," Kyojuro called as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. 

You paused as the familiar man made himself known but it was your boyfriend who spoke up first "Kyojuro, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with Tengen planning Makio's birthday party?"

"It's already been planned out!," he answered loudly, "I just wanted to stop by and speak to Y/n on a small favor!"

"Oh?.." Gyomei hummed again raising a thoughtful brow. "I see. She's just in the kitchen through there. You'll find her busy however."

"Not to worry. I don't intend to bother her for long!" You blinked as footsteps approached and a second later the bright cheery man himself was standing in the doorway, bright orange scarf around his neck and beaming at you. "GREETINGS, Y/N! Apologies for dropping in like this but I had something to tell you! I hope I'm not interrupting!"

"Uh." You blinked before finishing wrapping up a banana sando sandwich in plastic wrap. "No. Not at all. It's good to see you again, Kyo."

"LIKEWISE!!"

"How can I help you?"

"I bring good news! Makio's said she'd be happy to celebrate with everyone there and has extended that invitation to you!" He sounded so happily at you. "If you're available tomorrow then you can join the girls for their day out!"

"Tomorrow?" 

"Yes!" He tilted his head. "Is that a bad time?"

"Oh. No but it's just that I have a lot of food to deliver." You gestured to the sandwiches you had just wrapped up with plastic wrap. "And I have some more to bake before today's over."

"Ah! I see! If you'd like you could just bring it along! Everyone will be in one place anyways!"

"I guess that could work. By the way, what favor did you want to ask me?"

"Hm? OH! I nearly forgot!" He slapped a hand to his forehead. How could he have almost forgotten about why he came all the way here for? "Senjuro rally enjoyed the sugar cookies you had made for our party and was wondering if you'd be willing to give our mother the recipe for them!"

Senjuro? Oh that was Kyojuro's younger brother. You nodded happily. "Sure! I have the recipe over there." You pointed turning around. "Just give me a minute and I'll write you a copy."

"THANK YOU! I'm sure my brother will be so happy!" He beamed watching as you giggled and started towards a small shelf with a few cookbooks laid upon it. After a moment his orange eyes wondered curiously over the many Tupperware containers and wrapped up food, only to pause when something caught his eye. "Is that nerikiri wagashi?"

You hummed briefly looking over your shoulder noticing the way Kyojuro eyed the pastel colored, flowery looking deserts. "Oh. Yeah. Mitsuri asked me to make her a few deserts after she found out I gave Giyuu some food. You can have a few if you want."

"Don't mind if I do!" You turned back to the books as he quickly plucked up one and popped it into his mouth. "TASTY!!" You gave a chuckle heading him yell out before helping himself to another sweet treat. "UMAI!! This is delicious!"

"Thank you!" You didn't look up. Just starting to flip through the book for those sugar cookies recipes.

"This reminds me of Hinatsuru's cooking at the cafe! She makes a lot of those cakes and sandwiches you can order off the menu! Sometimes she'll even make everyone's favorite deserts."

Your head slowly rose.. before you looked over your shoulder at him putting another one into his mouth. "Really?..What are their favorite deserts?" He hummed in question. "Tengen and his wives."

"Oh! That's easy! Suma adores chocolate! She can never get enough of it! Hinatsuru is more of a daifuku person and I'm not sure about Makio. I do know she enjoys purin pudding though. Tengen's easy to please. All you have to do is give him rock candy."

You blinked. "Tengen likes rock candy?" He nodded. "I thought someone like him would like something fancy like creme brulee."

"Pfft. Hahaha! He does give that impression doesn't he?" He shook his head. "No. He likes rock candy because it reminds him of jewels. He likes to wear pretty jewelry and I suppose when the light bounces off rock candy it looks like the jewels he wears. 'The flashiest Candy' as he calls it."

You giggled. "Well that's one way to put it-" A growling sound caused the both of you to pause.. before you blinked. "Oh. Are you hungry?"

He sheepishly rubbed at his neck. "I'll admit I haven't eaten since breakfast and seeing your food does make me hungrier."

"Well it'll take me a second to write the recipe. Why don't you go sit down and I'll get you something to eat."

His head perked up immediately. "Really? You'd cook for me like you do for Giyuu?"

You nodded. "I have some extra food I can spare. Go sit down and I'll get you some unagi."

"I was right! Mitsuri really should've gone with the angel costume for you!"

"Oh stop it and go sit down."

 You were already going to get him something to eat as he turned and walked into the living room. Only to be slightly caught off guard to find Gyomei staring at him silently with a raised brow. It took him aback a little bit but he shook it off and instantly went to sit in the armchair across from him. A moment later you followed after with a plate of grilled eel and rice and something for him to drink. He beamed as you handed it over to him before leaving again for the kitchen. 

Gyomei continued to stare at him as he began to eat the food given to him. Humming as the delicious taste bathed his taste buds in rich flavors. "MMM!! This is delicious! Y/n's cooking is truly amazing!"

"Is that so?"

"Hahaha! She's a perfect chef and such a kind person. I swear it's almost as if we're married and we're her husbands"

"Ah. Is that right?" Gyomei's hum only made the flamed haired man raise his own brows. "Kyojuro, if I didn't know better I'd say that quite a few of you are starting to display symptoms of liking her."

"Why wouldn't we? She's a lovely person!"

"I'm speaking of romantic feelings."

Rengoku paused. Well raised to his open mouthed smile as Gyomei silently kept staring at him. Silence between the two of them persisted until Gyomei calmly turned back to his food and raised the cup of tea to his lips. 

"I'm not angry with any of you just for the record. It would be stupid of me to be angry with my partners liking someone I also love considering the nature of our relationship...But do keep in mind that even if Y/n is in a relationship with me and is perfectly fine with my relationship with all of you, that she may not wish to return the affections from all of you." 

"...I understand." Orange eyes turned back to his food. "I hope you don't feel like we crossed any of your boundaries."

He held up a hand sipping his drink. "I'm not at all upset. I should've expected something like this to occur. But please keep in mind to respect the wishes of my girlfriend concerning her wants in a relationship."

"I promise you that we will. You've always been understanding."

A huff and smile was sent his way. "With you all I always will be "

You had returned from the kitchen about ten minutes later after wrapping up the food a little bit more so Kyojuro could have some time to eat. The cheery man thanked you for the recipe and food before bidding you both goodbye and leaving but not before letting you know where the birthday party will be taking place. 

"The girls are going out shopping and to the spa again but we're celebrating the party at Tengen's home. You can come over and give everyone your food then."

Sounded like a great plan to you! You'd be able to deliver everything to everyone on time and wouldn't have to worry about traveling to so many places in one day. Now you just had to take care of the obligatory birthday present.

***********************************************

Footsteps collided along the sidewalk up towards a home you were unfamiliar with but wouldn't really be too surprised by. A fancier side of town for sure with the bigger houses and fancier structure. You really didn't come to this part of town too often. Aunt Dakita did a lot though for clients or high social events she was invited too. Honestly it didn't surprise you but how many different people she knew, but the fact that Tengen was able to live here on a college student's salary was very surprising to you.

What the heck did he do for a living?!

"He works in a host club and bar! He's a very popular entertainer!"

Rengoku was more than happy to satisfy your curiosity on the drive over. You sat beside him on the passenger side with Gyomei uncomfortably squished in the seat behind you. True to his word, Kyojuro had swung by early in the morning to help you get everything there. And by that he meant picking you both up and driving you to Tengen's home himself, which was a nice gesture even if you didn't expect it. You thought that Tengen and his wives lived with Kyojuro since the five of them were all together an item but you guess not. 

Honestly if Tengen was a popular entertainer between classes then it'd explain why he could afford to live here, and you weren't surprised by the news of him being an entertainer. He certainly had the looks to pull it off and the personality to back it up. 

"How much longer until we get there?," you asked him looking out the window at one house that had a fancy birdbath in front of it.

"It's just around the corner!," Kyojuro assured you with a smile. "Don't worry!"

Thank goodness. You were getting worried about how squished your boyfriend was in the back seat despite him not complaining a bit. Kyojuro turned a corner and continued to drive until he slowly came to a stop right in front of a three story house. You took a look at it before proceeding to exit the car and take a moment to look over the large house. Wow. Other than the one campus dorms, these might be the biggest homes you've ever seen. 

You didn't doddle long when Gyomei emerged from the car and quickly stretched out his back with a hiss of relief just as Kyojuro popped the trunk, leaning into it. A moment later he reemerged holding two giant paper bags in his arms. With the amount of food you ended up working late into the night before to work on, you had to stuff them all into three giant bags in order to hold it all. You went to go retrieve the third bag but Gyomei had beaten you too it already picking it up into his arms and closing the trunk. 

Wordlessly, you followed Kyojuro as he nodded his head towards the home. You both took his initiative and walked up to the doorway where you were slightly surprised when Kyojuro just struggled to hoist the bag up into his arms to free one hand and just opened up the door without knocking. Sure his boyfriend (and girlfriends) lived here but you expected him to knock first before he just waltzed on in. Followed by Gyomei and then yourself timidly looking inside.

"WE'RE HERE!!"

"It's about time, Kyojuro! What the hell took you so long?!", Sanemi's voice demanded from inside the house. He didn't see you until Gyomei moved out of the way and he quickly paused, annoyed frown disappearing immediately upon seeing you. "Oh..Well nevermind then. It was for a good cause."

"Y/N'S HERE!!" Mitsuri gasped turning around from where she sat watching something on the TV.

"Hi, Everyone!," you greeted with a slightly tired smile and wave. "Sorry if we're late. It was my fault for sleeping in."

You looked around as you spoke and inside was a...Regular living room?? When the door gave away you weren't sure what you were expecting but a regular looking living room wasn't it. It had a regular second hand looking leather couch facing a decently sized TV mounted to the wall, along with a few shelves against the opposite walls covered in knick knacks next to a coat wrack, along with two doorways. One looking like it lead into another hallway and the other looking like it lead into a kitchen area. It-....wasn't fancy?? Certainly wasn't expecting that. With the location of the home you had thought you would be walking into one of those rich people's houses you'd seen in the movies. 

You managed to push your gaze back to everyone else in the room only to be met with a pink and green blur, one moment later you were being bear hugged by a squealing Mitsuri. "EEEEE!!! IM SO HAPPY YOU GOT INVITED! WE'RE GONNA HAVE SO MUCH FUN!!"

"Good to see you too, Mitsuri." You patted her sides with your arms pinned by her. "Sorry again for being late." 

"Don't apologize." Sanemi approached getting off the wall he had been leaning on and gently prying his partner off you. "C'mon, Mits. You're suffocating 'er."

A sigh of relief escaped you as the bear trap hug was released allowing you to breath. "Thank you.'' You took another look around finding most of everyone still watching the movie playing and Kyojuro hoisting the bags into his arms more. Oh right. You should probably hand out everything already. "Sanemi.' He rose a brow at you. "I got your the ohagi you asked for."

He perked up immediately. "Shit. Really?"

You nodded. "Hang on a second." Gyomei blinked as you shuffled past Mitsuri and just grabbed the giant bag out of his hands. Paper crinkling sounds reached his ears as you just shoved your hand inside, digging around until you pulled out a small box out and handed it over to an expectant Sanemi.

"Fuck yeah!" Taking it in his hands, a sweet scent filled his lungs as he inhaled and sighed out. "That's the good stuff."

"Mitsuri, here's all the deserts you wanted." She squealed out as you just handed her the bag, no doubt she'll have already eaten everything before you girls go out for Makio's planned shopping spree, and then you turned to Kyojuro. He didn't say anything as you took a whole second bag, walked over, and plopped it into Giyuu's arms. "This is for you two. I tried a few European dishes I found online so hopefully it tastes good."

Giyuu blinked looking down into the bag before looking up at you and smiled. Surprising Obanai next to him so much the masked man dropped the TV remote. "Thank you so much. I'm sure Shino and I will love it."

You smiled turning back around and noticed something you didn't see at first glance. There was lots of paintings along the walls. Small paintings, big paintings, landscapes of cities and nature, one giant portrait of Kanae, another one of two portraits of people you didn't know, one abstract art, tie dye you think, and a few other art forms you were unfamiliar with but each one looked more beautiful than the last. Until you got to one painting in particular.

It was the biggest painting you've ever seen. About a yard wide and as long and tall as a full length mirror. Probably because the painting WAS of a mirror. A beautiful full length mirror with a golden frame sat upon a heavenly landscape of clouds and sunset coloring, it's reflection carried on through a small stream originating from the base and threatening to carry away the stars falling from the sky around it. After a moment Kyojuro blinked at your awed stare and turned his head to see exactly what you were looking at.

"Ah!" Realization caused him to perk up. "I see you've noticed one of Tengen's more larger pieces."

"It's beautiful." You stared in awe at it.  "How could someone do that with just paint alone?"

"Flashy ain't it?" Both you and Giyuu jumped and whirled around only to make eye contact with wine red eyes as Tengen smiled down at you both from the doorway behind you leaning against it's frame. "I call it Mirrored Dreams. Part of a project I did back in my first year of Uni."

How did he sneak up on you without you hearing him?! Once the initial shock wore off you sighed before smiling at him in greeting. "It's really beautiful. Where did you get the idea for it?"

He shrugged. "Had a really weird fever dream after reading Through The Looking Glass and eating bad take out. Though I'm not complaining about the outcome of it since it is one of my favorite pieces." Leaning off the doorframe he made his way past you both into the room, walking a little bit sluggish and tired. 

"I think it's a really beautiful piece, Tengen," you complimented him with a smile. He took pause to look back at you as you did so. "You're a very talented painter."

He huffed a chuckle after a moment. "Thanks. I like to think I'm pretty decent at it."  He turned back to Kyojuro which made you blink again tilting your head at his form. "Hey, Best Buddy. Finally decided to join the party huh?"

He nodded back to him. "INDEED!! Apologies for our lateness!*

"Eh. Don't mention it." A hand tiredly reached out to rub his face. "Makio's almost ready to go so...you guys can just hang out here until she's ready."

Again he nodded. "Sounds like a plan! Then we can all decorate for the party when they come back!"

Tengen nodded mumbling something you couldn't make out before he yawned and shuffled towards the kitchen area past Kyojuro. "Go ahead and make yourselves comfortable." He waved a hand behind him as he disappeared. "I'm gonna get me some coffee."

You watched as he fully disappeared into the kitchen before slowly turning to Giyuu in question. "Hey..Is he ok?" Giyuu hummed in question turning to you. Your arm gestured towards the kitchen. "Tengen. He seems pretty down today." Usually he'd greet you with a flirt or big cheeky grin when you both spoke, but he seemed tired and a bit upset. 

"Oh. He's just been going through a bad patch of art block recently," he explained, "Don't worry. It's nothing that he hasn't gone through before. He's usually mopey and tired during these patches."

"Like you, Tomioka?"

Giyuu shot Obanai a look. "What are you talking about? I'm happy right now."

Obanai stared at Giyuu's unchanging expression as you calmly reached into Giyuu's bag before pulling out one Tupperware container and walked over to Kyojuro. "Uh..You are?"

"Yes. Can't you tell?"

"Uh ..I'm going back to the movie."

A paper crinkling sound went off as you took the bag from Kyojuro and peered inside. F/c eyes peered into the kitchen area... before you slowly walked into the kitchen after Tengen. However you were surprised when you saw the state of the kitchen. Like the living room it seemed rather normal with a stovetop oven combo, a microwave, and what looked like a hand me down table and chairs. Not as fancy or 'state of the art' as you were expecting to find. Maybe Tengen didn't like showing off his wealth?

Speaking of the art major, you found him with his back back towards you in front of a countertop. 

SNIFF.

You blinked at the sounds of a sniffing noise before his arm reached up to you guessed rub at his face before his other arm reached up to open the cabinet above him. Tengen just pulled out the first cup his hand touched without bothering to close it. The hot coffee pot lifted up to poor the black liquid into the porcelain mug as the smell of French vanilla bean frappe filled his senses. The hot stinging liquid burning his tongue when he gulped it down. Adding a sense of warmth to his body he desperately craved.

A sigh escaped his lips as the cup lowered from his lips. "Gods I needed that."

"Tengen?" 

"SHIT-!!" The hot cup fumbled in his hands as he fumbled to not drop it before whirling around to your face.

"Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." You took a step back to give him space as he blinked at you. "I just...W-Wanted to thank you for inviting me is all. I appreciate it." You decided not to comment on the pink around his eyes 

Quickly he wiped at his face and plastered on a smile towards you. "Oh. H-Hey, Pretty Lady! Aw. You don't gotta thank me. Any girl of Mei's is welcome here!"

Your brows furrowed. "Right. Are you..ok?"

"Fit as a fiddle! Why wouldn't I be?"

You decided not to comment on the fact that he looked like he was about to cry before placing the Tupperware container on the table and sliding it over to him. "Here. Looks like you could use a good meal. Whenever I was upset my Aunt used to cook me my favorite snack to cheer me up."

"Upset? Pfft. Who's upset?" He asked waving off a hand as your brow rose higher at him. "It's my wife's birthday today! There's nothing to be upset about!"

".... It's beef sukiyaki." You continued opening up the top and nudging it over to him more as he blinked. "Eat if. You'll feel better with a nice warm meal in your stomach. And before I forget I made you this." He still watched silently as you reached into the paper bag you still held before pulling out a second small container and held it out to him. "Here. I made this for you."

...For a long moment he said nothing. Tengen looked at the box, then at you, then back to the box... before he slowly took it from you, staring at it a little bit more before talking. "What is it?"

"Homemade rock candy. Kyojuro mentioned it was your favorite candy." His eyes snapped back to you. "I was already making some for Mitsuri and I figured you'd like some too." You smiled at him brightly. "I hope you get free of your art block soon. I'd love to see more of your paintings!" Your arms held up the last bag. "In the meantime I'd better get Makio the present I made her before we leave. Thanks again for inviting me, Tengen."

He said nothing as you turned around to exit the kitchen, ironically bumping into the women in question finally coming downstairs to join the crowd only to be met with you hopping over to them with a bag of goodies to pass out. Eventually the man blinked again slowly looking back to the box in his hands and going to lift up the top to peer inside. What he was met with was the sunlight hitting the rocky, jagged surface of what looked like multicolored gems. Glittering with the light bouncing off and enticing him to eat them. He did. Reaching in slowly to break off a peace of a large red chunk just as Suma's voice squealed out.

"Choco cornets!"

The red gen glittered between his thumb and pointer finger before he decided to pop it into his mouth and chew down. "Huh...Cherry. Doesn't taste too bad."  Wind red eyes looked at the other open container next. The smells of beef, mushrooms, and a few other ingredients wafted from it as he leaned down to inhale it's scent only to him. "Whaddya know. Smells good."

Suma was absolutely destroying the choco corners you made her as Makio was thanking you for the homemade custard pudding you gifted her when he bothered to reach in and pull out a warm piece of stewed beef before also popping it into his mouth. Huh... That tasted pretty good too! Pretty nice of her to gift it to him. As he ate, he curiously pulled out another rock candy to examine. Dark blue. Wonder what this tasted like. Blue raspberry? Blueberry? Grape maybe? These sparkled like real gems almost. Kinda reminded him of all the pretty blue jewelry Suma always-....

Wait a dam minute-

His head perked up wide eyed. Eyes snapping back to the living room. Gems and beauty. And not just any beauty.

INNER BEAUTY. THE MOST PURE RAW KIND OF BEAUTY THAT ONLY THE PURE OF HEARTS HAD.

"THAT'S IT!" 

The box of colorful candy was tossed to the side as a raw desperation busted throughout his chest and took ahead of his legs, carrying him to the living room with such speed it startled everyone else inside. Only one person caught his interest however as f/c eyes turned to him surprised.

"YOU!!"

You jumped dropping the now empty paper bag as Tengen was suddenly looming over you with a focused, tense look in his eyes and his hands gently grabbed your cheeks.

"You're perfect. YOU'VE GOT TO BE MY NEXT MUSE!!"

....You blinked. "What?"

[mysticcrownwolf]

I have not watched arcane but I follow enough people that do to have to general idea of what it's about and I am calling it right now the only reason this fandom demonize Vi is because they like Jinx and by extension Silco so all the bullshit ass enabling he did with Jinx for years will be forgotten because Vi punches her for killing everybody she ever loved and then the people in this fandom who don't have even a quarter of a brain cell to rub together will be like well Jinx suffered so much because of Vi because she had suicidal thoughts and see people meanwhile Vi deadass saw everyone she loved die in front of her, then lose her only remaining family to Silco and then spend her whole childhood in prison. Like the people in this fandom can't comprehend morally grey characters or even think that their faves can be complex people who can do bad things if the narrative shifts that way.

Look me in the eye and tell me these people have a single thought in their head while watching the show because the writers said these two seasons are the Jinx and Vi story. That they will probably make more arcane stuff but these seasons are focused on the sisters and so why do I see post like I wish Vi didn't have so much screen time or I wish Vi and Cait story wasn't the main focus here and the show focused more on "insert any background narrative they wanted to see" like bitch go fuck yourself.

Like I have never seen such a large group of people utterly incapable of media literacy it's like they need to be handfed concepts like:-

"A doomed narrative means no happy endings at most you get a bittersweet one"

"Your fave can be a bad person and still be your fave you don't have to justify them as a good or reasonable person (and demonize their equally traumatized sister looking at you weirdly purist Jinx fans) to continue liking them.

"Metaphors and parallels shouldn't be spoken or spelled out for you. You as a viewer are suppose to understand then yourself using your brain"

"Good people can do some bad things this doesn't make then irredeemable and bad people can do some good things this doesn't suddenly makes them fully redeemable"

"If a shows ending is ambiguous it doesn't mean the writers were too pussy to commit to a proper ending it means they purposefully made it ambiguous so their can be more than one interpretation for it"

"Not all good stories needs have good or even satisfying happily ever after usually in a doomed narrative you just survive to live another day"

"Just because someone's trauma manifest in a more visible way doesn't mean another characters didn't suffer at all (still looking at you Vi haters)"

To summarise do I think the people who can't see a nuanced story like arcane without generalizing everything in black and white and then complaining about how it's bad are all brainless idiots with the mental capacity of a third grader with no capacity for media literacy or reflection. Yes. Is it probably a baseless generalization. Probably. Do I care. No,fuck you'll and all your arcane hate post you all tricked me into reading by disguise them as actually analysis.

If I can pick up on the subtle nuances and non linear narrative of arcane by just reading Tumblr posts and watching some clips on YouTube you people have no reason to have this shitty of an opinion when you actually consumed the full media.

[victoriadallonfan]

End of Act 1 - Author Thoughts

So, this concludes Act 1 of Dead Eye. 

​It's been a struggle for me to write this afterthought piece, because I have learned so much from writing this original story.

This was not the first time I've written original fiction, of course. I had a brief attempt at a web serial back in late 2016 (I can't even remember the name of it), I've written numerous short fiction stories for Reddit Writing Prompts, and I've dropped some short stories here in Creative Writing in the past. Not to mention contest submissions over the years IRL (nothing gained unfortunately).

However, what made this different is that I actually committed to the act of finishing an entire arc and do my best to flesh out the characters as much as possible. I kept a plan, I followed it, and I tried to make it enjoyable for the readership.

​Admittedly, going from the hundreds of likes and views of my fanfic to the thirty or dozen on these posts felt initially disheartening. 

Initially.

But then I realized that I wasn't thinking about things in perspective. I was no longer using larger fandoms as a crutch for engagement or relying on readers already having a basic understanding of the characters: I was needing to WORK and gain the TRUST of the readers for a totally experimental project.

And bonus, I got amazing comments and analysis each chapter, with people seeming to really enjoy the mystery and action I wrote. I got people investing in characters in just a little under 30k words, which I think is pretty darn decent!

Is there room for improvement? Yes, absolutely. I ended up unhappy with how little screen time Milian got, but a lot of my plans for him involved future plot points that couldn't fit within 6 chapters that I challenged myself. I struggled a lot with describing the city (because I find building descriptions boring), and perhaps I made the tension between Sabra and Persa a bit too thick?

More things I could discuss on that, but there are also things I'm proud of. I really enjoyed the action set pieces and how I distinguished character behavior. I really like that my magic system (based on me noticing how special eyes are so prevalent in fiction, why not make an entire system set around them?) flowed so easily for me to write, and that it allowed me to do fun things with the world. Giant glowing eyeball in the sky makes me giggle all the time.

​So, what is the plan going forward?

For now, there will be a small intermission. I would like to get back into Janus and HITF, maybe do some other fanworks too, just to flex my brain a bit from being in Persa's pov for so long.

The plan is that after a month or two, I will then return for Dead Eye - Act 2 for another 6 arc continuation.

Finally, I want to say: Thank You

Thank you to everyone who supported me, be it by like, comment, or Ko-Fi donation. It was you who kept me going, and made me achieve a dream of becoming an actual author of original fiction.

I promise I won't let you down!

[jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear]

Thoughts on Scriddler?

This is gonna be a long one, so buckle up...

Firstly, you gotta understand that all that follows is a recollection of the fandom over the years, since 2015 to be exact. Speaking stickily Jonathan Crane fandom, Scriddler has always been the most popular ship for Scarecrow. I couldn't give ya a beginning to this, as even back then I found years old art for Scriddler circulating. Though, tumblr as a social media is where it blossomed.

When I first started this blog, I had my OC to develop and I was very self conscious and unknowingly putting myself through trauma via art school and a lack of disability accessibility. Not gonna get into that, but I was very vulnerable as well as impressionable.

I did NOT like Scriddler, almost detested it. It seemed like it was everywhere, and this was before tumblr had a decent way of blocking. Not that it would have helped, because for some reason i liked suffering. Felt like I deserved to be depressed. Took me a long time to realize blocking content actually made life better aslhkds

Anyways, even early on I had a lot of support, people wanted to know about my OC and cared, but I always felt like I played second fiddle to the holy of holy, Scriddler. And if you've read any of my recent posts, you know I've come to accept that just how it is with OCs. But that doesn't mean I didn't get my fair share of anon hate, suicide threats, etc. The fandom was not always welcoming. Or perhaps there was just a minority who loved to abuse the anon function. (if you think there's a lot of drama today, you were not there when it was bad)

It took me a LONG time to grow to like Scriddler. I used to feel like they had very little in common, and it bothered me that most of the art was majorly sexual. That's a whole 'nother can of worms, but ya know. I don't hate Scriddler today, which should be obvious seeing as I reblog it now. Though, I like Hattercrow a tad more.

A lot of this was my own internal issues, though the fandoms penchant to take two males who never interact and ship them, suffice to say is alive and strong. Nicely enough however, there has been more "Scriddler" like content from comics. (I say this loosely, but they do interact quite a bite more than they did ten years ago)

Scriddler, and to a lesser, Hattercrow, is a ship you either love or hate. Except me. I kinda fall in the middle. Though I feel it's worth mentioning that Scarecrow has had his fair share of female/female presenting ships too, and as much as I hate to say it, they're generally disliked by the greater fandom. (or simply ignored) We all know why. I've mentioned this before. :/ and I've had close friends give up on their ships because of it. Just like me. I gave up. I hat admitting that, but I can't compete with Scriddler.

I wish there was a way to change that, but I wouldn't know were to start. That's why I try to support OCs for example, someones gotta do it. I can't let another person go through what I went though.

TL;DR: Sciddler is not a bad ship, I don't dislike it anymore, but don't think I'm not silently side eyeing the loud minority who shit on anyone for even thinking Jonathan could love a woman. Ya know, despite canon only showing evidence for that.

[mzannthropy]

Long post or whatever, OP seems to be an inactive account so they won't mind.

Thanks 💌

If I say I'm afraid to post what I feel like and you ask me why, I wouldn't be actually able to answer (but it's like that with fear--what are you afraid of?) Like, nobody will die bc of what I posted. I can't keep it inside either so I put like million caveats so that no one gets offended... lol. (I have a bit of a baggage wrt to things I like, from my teenage years.)

When I became an active Sam Claflin fan, during the pandemic, I looked up his name on social media, and on here too, and saw how everyone only cared about Me Before You and Finnick. So I knew I would have to be on my own. Don't get me wrong, Finnick's cool, doesn't matter how I feel about Hunger Games--which I will always battle with--but surely there's more to Sam than that? For general public, okay, after all Sam keeps himself low-key, but when even his own fandom can't recognise how fantastic he is in everything else he does? Journey's End was one of the first films I watched after I started following him and was mindblown, like that's an Oscar winning performance--and yet not a peep from anyone. So I started posting about him myself, eventually @jesstasticvoyage found me, but last year, everything around DJATS made me retreat back into my shell and I even questioned whether I should continue. Heck, I questioned my own sanity, I thought I was having a psychosis or something... Soccer Aid was a life saver, then we heard about Monte Cristo and all was well again. Though the crisis comes back every now and then (and I don't mean the one I had over not being able to watch Bagman, bc I took that with humour and took a trip to Haworth to touch grass and came face to face with a road named Dimples Lane... clearly sign from the universe. And I got to see Bagman in the end anyway.)

But what I wanted to say, regarding your last tags: women definitely need to stop fucking apologising for everything AND women need to get some fucking audacity. Like you say, men always confidently proclaim what they think. It's not a skill you just wake up with one day, so it needs work. I've been thinking about how to make myself less sensitive, actually I'm contemplating posting on twitter again, but this time not about politics (that's how I used it before) but about things I like, like Sam and films and books and cats and quotes etc. I'll see.

Oh and what are the Spanish and French words used instead of "chemistry"? Both are such pretty languages! One user here suggested "alchemy" which sounds good. I know "chemistry" is a real term in acting (also in music, apparently) but it's not used the way shippers think it is. Actors need to have chemistry with everyone, not just the ones that play romantic interests. It's a disservice to both of them to reduce their performance to just "chemistry". Sam learned to play a whole fucking instrument, lost a lot of weight, learned a new accent... and yet all these clowns have to say is kemmystreeee. And that's if they're not ageist about him. Someone reblogged one of my Sam Monte Cristo posts with "thank god he is looking hot again" in the tags... just. Headdesk.

Sam Claflin and Holliday Grainger in ‘Any Human Heart’ (2010)  

[sunnystaytiny2018]

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ATEEZ Fanfiction

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Fandom: ATEEZ

Pairing: ATEEZ x Fem Reader

Genre: Smuttttt -maybe a few more- tttt

POV: First Person

Additional Tags: Daddy Kink, Overstimulation, Rough, Mean punishments, multiple rounds, squirting, orgasm denial, choking, spanking, biting, jealous sex, established relationship, 0T8 x Reader, g x b, blindfold, blow jobs, multiple partners at once, cum licking, creampies, cum swallowing

Requested by @yuyuyuyumesblog

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I have been really misbehaving lately. My boyfriends had been so busy that they didn't seem to have time for me anymore. So I started acting out to get their attention. Not rejecting someone when they are clearly flirting with me and dancing around with other guys. I still hadn't gotten a reaction out of any of them, considering they weren't there. Or so I thought. So why the hell were my boyfriends standing there in our living room like it was an intervention?

“Um, I'm home.”

“Why were you out so late?” Hongjoong questioned me.

“I went clubbing.”

“Without us?” Wooyoung demanded and I frowned, feeling anger bubble in my chest.

“Every time I ask you're too busy! Every last one of you!” I yelled, my eyes watering from frustration.

“Oh! So you just go and grind on some other guy?!” Seonghwa demanded and I was taken aback, Seonghwa rarely ever yelled.

“How did-”

“You think we didn't have an eye on you at all times?” San asked, as if that was the most outlandish thing to think. Hongjoong set his laptop on the computer and showed me a video of me dancing near a guy. I never actually grinded up on anyone, I didn't want anyone but one of my boyfriends. But I let them close enough to cause jealousy.

“Get your ass to the room and strip. I better find you waiting in position for your punishment, baby girl.” My heart raced. I quickly skimmed over everyone to find I would in fact be punished by every single one of them. Fear and excitement swirled in my chest. “NOW.” I jumped and quickly headed to his room.

“Yes, Daddy.” I whimpered. I tripped half way down the hall but I quickly got up and hurried into his room, not wanting the punishment to be worse than they already planned because I wasn't ready by the time they got here. I stripped all my clothes off and scrambled on the bed into position. I sat on my knees with my palms upwards on my thighs. My head bowed down, not daring to look up especially as my boyfriends came into the room.

“Oh good, she listened. I'm sure she already knows her punishment won't be easy, right Baby?” Jongho asked as he titled my chin up. I remained silent knowing I wasn't supposed to reply, it was merely a rhetorical question.

“Well, tell you what. How about…” Yunho whispered as he slowly pulled a silk fabric over my eyes. “If you can guess who is pleasuring you, we can switch to the next person. He won't get to cum. But if you make a wrong guess or don't guess within 15 seconds… you don't to get to cum and he does.” The idea made my heart race and my pussy ached. This might be the harshest punishment yet. They had never denied me orgasms for so long.

“Color?” Hongjoong's voice broke through the darkness of my vision.

“Green.” I replied as hands immediately guided me to lay down and spread my legs.

“First person.” Hongjoong said as the bed dipped and someone moved between my legs and rubbed his hands on my legs. My legs turned from the intimate touch. I sucked in a breath as I tried to focus. His hands weren't on the bigger side of the members. So Yunho and Mingi were out of play. When I felt their tongue delve into my pussy I let out a whimper. Okay, not Hongjoong or Wooyoung. They prefer eating me out after destroying me. I breathed in their scent.

“Yeo-Yeosang?” I stuttered out as my back arched into his tongue.

“Wow, very good, baby.” Hongjoong praised and Yeosang increased the speed of his tongue and pushed a finger into my wet pussy. I let out a desperate cry due to the sudden contact. I hadn't had sexual contact or action for a while.

“Oh Yeosang!” I moaned at his soft touches accompanied with the feverish licks of his tongue. My hands tangled in his brown locks as I felt my body jolt and tense. “I'm close, baby.” I moaned as he added a second finger increasing the pleasure. My back arched as my body released a gentle and warm orgasm. Yeosang had to pull himself away and someone new replaced him.

I felt his hands drag on my thighs and I bit my lip. I think I may already know who it is. I'm not saying all of them don't like my thighs but there is one specific one who loves them. He always touches and marks them up. Maybe I knew my boys better than I thought. I really started out thinking I would fail over and over. I felt his lips on my thighs for only a second before spreading my legs and immediately pushed into me.

I let out a cry at the stretching but I tried to focus on the feeling of his dick. I want to cum again, so bad. But this definitely wasn't who I thought it was, since he would have spent much longer than that on my thighs. I could only think of one of the guys who didn't do as much foreplay, not that I mind. Sometimes I just want a good fuck without the extra steps to work up to it. But then again I love the foreplay too. The nicest thing about having 8 boyfriends is each one of them can satisfy certain needs that the others may not be able to.

I let out a moan as he snapped his hips, pushing deeper inside of me. His rhythm was familiar, well of course it was. His rhythm is strong and almost harsh. Yep, I knew who it was.

“Who is it, baby?” Hongjoong asked as I felt fingers slip to my clit as his hips began to snap faster. Shit wait, it wasn't Hongjoong?

“I-I don't know! I thought it was you, I- W-Wooyoung?” I asked as he sucked in a breath.

“Incorrect, Honey. You don't get to cum.” Hongjoong informed me and I whined out. I already had an orgasm building since the one between my legs started rubbing my clit and fucking my pussy like it's the best thing he's ever felt. He finally let his voice out after I got it wrong.

“Fuck~ You feel so good.” Jongho growled in my ear and it sent shivers of pleasure through my body. His voice and groans are too sexy. My legs tensed as I tried to hold it back

“Color, baby?

“Green.” I moaned out, the shake in my breath making it clear I was teetering on the edge.

“Hold it, baby.” Jongho groaned as his pace increased and he withdrew his hand from my clit.

“I-I can't. I can't hold it-” I whimpered out as my abdomen tensed painfully.

“Yes, you can, baby. And you better not cum.” Seonghwa instructed. I could hear the sound of some of the guys jerking themselves off while watching. Soft groans coming from different parts of the room.

“You look so sexy getting pounded into, baby.” Wooyoung praised from somewhere in the room. “Squirming and trying not to cum.” Jongho thrusted deeper before spilling himself inside of me. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I felt slight relief as he cummed inside of me. No longer having any stimulation that made my body want to orgasm. Jongho kneeled between my legs and looked down at me.

“I'll be back, baby.” Jongho purred and gave me a kiss before leaving the spot. It took a few seconds before the next person caused the bed to dip again. My legs were still trembling slightly from the previous stimulation but holding back the orgasm.

I felt the brush of jeans against my pussy and I smiled softly. This one I knew for sure. There was only one member who liked to have sex with his jeans still on. His hands squeezed and kneaded my sides making it even more clear that it was who I thought it was. His hands moved up to my breasts and squeezed them. A moan slipped out of my mouth at the dorm squeeze. His lips were on them, soft fluttering kisses around the nipples. Then his hot tongue was on my tits drawing out the loudest moan since this had started. I rubbed my thighs together as my pussy clenched. I moved my hand along his arms and to his hair.

“Mingi, please.” I moaned and I felt the smirk spread on his face.

“Okay, baby. As you wish.” He said as he began to rub my clit as he sucked a nipple into his mouth. My back arched at the feeling of his silver rings against my burning pussy. He began to suck harder on my nipples and I couldn't last any longer from the sensitivity.

“Mingi! I'm close.” I moaned before orgasming on his fingers. He pulls them out and he makes a loud slurping sound, telling me he just sucked his fingers clean of my juices. I shivered, feeling turned on all over again. God, Mingi was nasty and I fucking loved it.

“Next one, Sweetheart.” Seonghwa purred to me. I felt cum splatter on my stomach and a low groan from Yunho. I decided to do something sexy and I slowly trailed my hand from my breast to my stomach until I felt my fingers touch the now warm cum. I heard his breath hitch as someone else got on the bed. I scooped some on my finger and sucked my lips.

“Oh fuck, I can't. She's too sexy. I'm done playing this game. I need to fuck her.” Wooyoung growled from between my legs. He ripped the tie off of my face to see his feral look. He grabbed me by my thighs and yanked me down. “Fuck, you so pretty, baby. I might just cum in you the second I put it in.” He said before pushing into me. I let out a loud and desperate moan. Thank God, someone broke. I need them so fucking bad it hurts. I want to feel their cum leaking out of my pussy like their good little cum slut.

“Please! Fuck yes please, Woo.” I moaned as he began to fuck me. The other members joined us on the bed and hands were on me. One landed to hold my cheeks.

“Open wide, baby.” Hongjoong ordered and I opened my mouth obediently. Hongjoong smirked and pushed into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat. I choked a little before adjusting to his size as my body continued to bounce up from Wooyoung's thrusts. Moans escaped around Hongjoong's dick as I sucked on him like it was the tasty lollipop ever. I missed this. I missed them.

Mingi began to suck on one tit and Yunho joined in my other. The pleasure was too overwhelming as I orgasmed once more. Hongjoong began to face fuck me and someone nudged my hand with their dick. I didn't hesitate to take whoever it was. It didn't matter who it was. I wanted to pleasure them all equally. I used the precum from his dick and smeared it around and started to pump my hand as I squeezed my eyes shut, Hongjoong busting in my mouth. I swallowed it quickly and Hongjoong slowly pulled out to be replaced by Seonghwa. He slowly pushed into my mouth and allowed me to go at my own pace, throwing his head back in pleasure.

I orgasmed once more, encouraging Wooyoung to cum inside me. He was pushed aside and quickly replaced by San who began to lap my pussy up. The thighs were trembling and someone else began to kiss, suck, and bite them. I moaned around Seonghwa's dick as the one I was jerking off cummed on my face.

“Cumming~” Jongho warned before doing so. I squinted my eyes closed so I didn't get any in my eyes. By the end of the night, my body was worn and marked. My boyfriends quickly washed and cleaned my body and changed the sheets before allowing me to lay in the bed again.

“Thank you, Love. You did so good. We really needed you.” San said as he placed a soft kiss on my forehead. I nodded as I snuggled into his arms.

“I love you guys.”

“We love you too.” Seonghwa said softly, giving me a soft kiss as well.

“You can sleep, sweetheart.” Hongjoong encouraged me as he tucked the blanket around my body. I nodded, already nodding off.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 22: This Misery We've Made

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: As Tommy and Lizzie's wedding day draws near, Lucy battles doubts and insecurities about their arrangement.

Word Count: 6,221

Notes: Warnings for depictions of smut, insecurity, and references to past torture and injuries.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 2: Say We'll Be Okay

When Polly walked unexpectedly through the door, Lucy briefly panicked, thinking that she’d forgotten about a meeting Tommy was supposed to have with his aunt and accidentally double booked him. But one quick glance at the diary on her desk proved that not to be the case. She frowned a little, a pulse of trepidation finding its way into her throat. Polly looked every bit like royalty, dressed in a lavish, deep purple coat embellished by a fur collar over an equally expensive blouse and skirt, a wide brimmed hat atop her head. She was growing her hair out from the short style she’d worn it in during the vendetta, the dark curls styled neatly around her chin. 

“Polly,” Lucy greeted, sitting up straight. “Tommy’s in a meeting right now–” 

“Actually, I’m here to see you.”

Lucy blinked, the uneasiness within her growing even more pronounced. She always got nervous when talking with Polly without Tommy present to serve as a buffer between them. 

Polly’s dark eyes darted to where Adam was seated at the second desk in the office near the back.

“Adam,” Lucy said, getting the kid’s attention, “why don’t you take your lunch break a little early, today?”

He looked up from the speech he’d been editing, noticed Polly and the clear tension between them, and hastily put down his pen. “Are you sure, Lucy?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Go on.”

He got up and collected his hat and coat from the hooks by the wall, offering Polly a respectful nod and a soft “Mrs. Gray,” when he walked past her. 

“He seems to be settling in well,” Polly remarked, sliding off her gloves.

“Yeah. He’s a good kid. What do you need?” Capping her pen, Lucy folded her hands in front of her on top of the papers she’d been looking over before Polly came in. 

Removing her hat, Polly slid into one of the leather chairs across from her, meticulously crossing one leg over the other and laying her hat in her lap.

“Lizzie told me about the conditions you and Tommy put forth to her about the marriage.”

Lucy started to unconsciously fumble at the plain gold bands encircling her fingers. The wedding was in only a few short weeks, and to say that she was dreading it would be an understatement. Things had happened very quickly after the proposal.

“And?”

Polly lit one of her black cigarettes with the snap of a lighter, puffing on it greedily and eyeing Lucy with an obvious challenge in her dark eyes. “You really think that it’s a good idea for you and Tommy to keep up this…whatever it is that goes on between the two of you after he’s married?”

“We were still together after he married Grace–”

“That was different. He’s a politician now. His every move has the potential to invite scrutiny. If it gets out that he’s having an affair with his assistant, it could put his very position here in jeopardy.”�� 

I know that. You think that I don’t fucking know that? Lucy swallowed hard, reaching for the cigarette case on her desk, pulling one out and lighting it, stalling to give herself time to think of a response, hoping that Polly wouldn't notice the slight way that her hands trembled.

“We know the risks. We’ll be careful.”

“You two have never been nearly as good at being subtle as you think you are.” She shook her head. “I thought that it was a bad idea, him choosing to bring you along with him here in the first place. Too many people in Birmingham already know you two are caught up in some sort of…entanglement. Rumors are already starting to circulate. You really think that they’ll stop just because he marries someone else?”

Lucy crossed one arm around herself, her elbow moving to rest on her wrist. Holding her cigarette close to her face, she used her thumb to brush a few stray red curls out of her eyes. She could barely meet Polly’s harsh gaze. 

“Lucy,” placing her still smoking cigarette into the ashtray on the desk, Polly stood, planting both hands on the fine wood between them and leaning towards her, looming over her. For a moment fully encompassing the identity of the Shelby matriarch exerting her whole force of influence. “Being with you is not worth Tommy potentially losing everything he has worked so hard for.”

Hearing the words that had been circling over and over in her own head actually spoken aloud hit as hard as a slap would have. Lucy jerked sharply, cringing away in spite of herself. She stared at Polly destitutely.

“What would you have me do, Polly?” 

Polly’s dark eyes softened a fraction when she recognized the sorrow on Lucy’s face. “I think you already know.” 

“You really think that he would be unaffected if I just…left?” 

“He’d get over it. In time. Especially with a new, beautiful wife and two perfect children at his side.”

A small sound emitted from Lucy’s throat. It would have hurt less if Polly had walked in, dumped a bucket of gasoline over her head, and set her on fire.

Sometimes, the only thing that kept her from packing a bag in the middle of the night and going to the train station was knowing how heartbroken Tommy would be if she left. The mental images of him with tears in his eyes, chasing after her train, screaming for her to come back, was more than enough to convince her to stay. Despite everything, she still could not bring herself to leave his side. 

Who would take care of him, if she was gone? She certainly did not trust Polly to–at least not in the way that he really needed. Arthur, while his heart was in the right place, was too messed up to be of much help. Ada and Uncle Charlie could maybe both be of use, but they each had their own shit to deal with. They could not devote themselves entirely to Tommy in the way that Lucy did. 

But maybe Lizzie could…

Lucy shuddered, fingers clenching hard around her cigarette in an attempt to ground herself. She loved Tommy. She wanted nothing but good things for him. She could not leave him if she thought that her departure would cause him unhappiness. But if she could be sure that he could find happiness with Lizzie, if she knew that she could trust Lizzie to take care of him the way that he needed…

Polly reached across the table, and touched her shoulder. It was only then that Lucy realized that a single tear had slid down her cheek, with more gleaming unshed within her eyes.  

“I’m not trying to be cruel, dear. We’ve had our differences in the past, I know. I really am just looking out for the good of everyone.”

Lucy looked up at her, lips parted to speak, when the double doors leading into Tommy’s office opened. She hastily looked down and away, trying subtly to brush away the lone tear she had shed before Tommy stepped out with his colleague. He quirked a puzzled eyebrow at Polly’s presence, shaking the man’s hand and bidding him goodbye before turning to his aunt. 

“Hello, Polly. What are you doing here?”

“I was in the city running some errands, so thought that I’d come by and say hello,” Polly smiled, chipper as a chipmunk that had just found a whole bushel of nuts to keep it happy and well fed the entire winter.

Tommy’s eyes went to Lucy’s, not entirely buying Polly’s story. 

What happened? his expression asked, noticing something in her face. She just gave a miniscule shake of her head. 

It’s fine.

He didn’t look wholly convinced, but caught on that now wasn’t a good time to pry further.

“Well, since you’re here, we can talk about the latest developments. Have you spoken with Michael lately?”

“Yes, actually,” Polly started to launch into a recount of her latest phone call with Michael while Tommy shepherded her into his office. He didn’t look to be entirely listening to her, instead shooting Lucy a concerned glance from over his shoulder. She offered him a weak smile that only made him look more worried, and before following Polly into his office he leaned forward, and pressed a firm kiss between her brows. 

Whatever she said, don’t listen to it, his eyes told her. Lucy gave a tiny nod.

“Tommy?” Polly’s voice called from the office. 

“Coming,” he sighed, but didn’t actually move until after he’d brushed the back of his hand affectionately down Lucy’s cheek with a small, comforting smile. Despite herself, she leaned into the touch desperately, closing her eyes while his thumb stroked her skin. 

“I love you,” he mouthed to her when she finally met his gaze.

“Love you too,” she whispered hoarsely back, so quietly it was a wonder that he even heard her. With another gentle smile, he kissed the top of her head, ducking back into his office before Polly could shout for him again. He left the doors open, as if to let her know that she was more than welcome to join them at any time.   

Lucy raised a fist to rest against her lips as she stared after him, heart aching, and Polly’s words swirling around inside her head. 

∗ ∗ ∗

“Thank you again for the teddy bear. I swear that she hasn’t let it out of her grasp since I first gave it to her.”

Lucy smiled softly, leaning forward to watch Ruby play on the blanket Lizzie had set up for her in the sitting room. The aforementioned teddy bear was clutched in the baby’s arms, one of her chubby cheeks squished against it. Lucy was always buying her gifts. Tommy kept joking that she was going to spoil her, as if he were any better about not buying her anything and everything that he thought she might want. 

That sweet girl deserved to be spoiled as much as possible. 

 “I’m glad.”

“Thanks for coming by and watching her. I swear, with Tilly on holiday I haven’t gotten even a second to myself.” Lizzie finally swooped in from the kitchen with two teacups for them. With all the wedding planning and then her nanny taking a week long holiday, she looked more than a little frazzled.

“It’s no problem. I’m always happy to spend time with her.”

Lizzie’s gaze softened, passing Lucy her teacup and sitting down beside her on the couch, putting her own cup down on the table so she could reach over to stroke her daughter’s cheek. 

“Aren’t you excited, Ruby? We’ll be going to live with Daddy soon. You’ll get to see him allllll the time,” Lizzie cooed. The baby babbled excitedly and she giggled, leaning back. “God, she’s getting so big.”

Lucy nodded, remembering how fast Charlie had seemed to grow. “It always happens so fast.”

They both watched little Ruby play for a while, sipping on their tea in silence. Lucy knew that she needed to get going, but there was something that she needed to ask, before she did. 

Mustering up her courage, she took a deep breath, setting her teacup back down into its saucer. “Lizzie?”

“Mhm?” her gaze did not leave Ruby.

“Are you sure that you’re alright with our…with our arrangement for after you're married?”

Lizzie glanced at her, eyebrow raised. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Once it’s done, it won’t exactly be easy to back out of.”

“Yes, I know.” Lizzie splayed out her left hand, looking down at the glittering engagement ring on her finger. Lucy could only look at it for a moment before she had to glance away. “It’s all going to work itself out.”

Lucy examined her face closely. Something about the way that she said that last part had the fine hairs on the back of her arms standing on end. 

“Lizzie…” she spoke as gently as she could, terrified of accidentally setting her off. “You can’t force someone to love you. I don’t want you to go into this expecting that once the marriage license is signed he’ll just–”

“I know,” Lizzie cut her off, but Lucy did not really think that she did. There was a distant look on her face, a dreaminess as if she were lost in a faraway fantasy. One in which Lucy was certain that she did not exist and Tommy was falling over himself to kiss Lizzie’s feet. 

How many times had she attempted to get it through Lizzie’s head that she could not brute force Tommy into loving her the way that she wanted him to? Too many to count, at this point. There was not much more she could do but hope that Lizzie managed to figure it out for herself, and trust that she–like Tommy–could make her own decisions. 

“Okay,” she murmured, even though she felt anything but. 

∗ ∗ ∗

On the night before the wedding, it took nearly every ounce of willpower that Lucy had not to pack a bag and run far, far away. 

She felt sick with anxiety and guilt. Like a huge stone had been lodged in her gut. Polly’s words played on a loop inside her head, and the look of quiet hopefulness in Lizzie’s eyes flashed before her every time she shut her eyes. 

She had not mentioned the conversation she’d had with Polly to Tommy.

She knew that she probably should have, but she always hated it when he argued with any of his family because of her. So she kept her mouth shut, despite Polly’s words circling and festering in her mind. 

Would it not be better for everyone if she left? Tommy would not have to juggle prioritizing her along with Lizzie and everyone else, Ruby and Charlie would have a stable, normal household to grow up in, and Lizzie could finally have a shot at actually living out the fantasy she’d been dreaming of for years and years. No one in the family outside of Tommy would even miss her, and he could easily find a new assistant to replace her. There were plenty of qualified people, even amongst just the Blinders.  

“Lucy?”

She roused from her internal downward spiral at the sound of Tommy’s voice. He was standing in the middle of the bedroom, having already removed all his clothes save for his trousers, white button down shirt, and suspenders. He had his hands in his pockets, staring at her worriedly. When she looked up at him and he saw her face, he quickly came to sit beside her on the bed. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, carefully draping an arm around her. She let him pull her into his side, head coming to rest against his shoulder. 

“Mhm.”

“No, you’re not,” he argued back gently, lips finding the top of her head. “Worried about tomorrow?”

“Do you really think that this is a good idea?”

He frowned, confusion entering his eyes. “What? The wedding?”

She shook her head. “Us staying together.” 

The confusion morphed into panic. “What do you mean?”

Lucy swiped at her nose with the back of her hand, aware that she was about two seconds away from starting to cry. It felt like ever since the vendetta ended, most of what she did was either cry or mope around feeling sorry for herself. He must be so tired of having to comfort her all the damn time. 

Yet another thing to add to the list of improvements that her absence would bring: Tommy no longer would be burdened with having to take care of her. 

“Having an affair after you get married is a huge risk, Tommy. If someone finds out about it…it could ruin everything.”

Tommy drew back slightly to stare at her. His brows were pulled in, lips turning downwards, his gaze apprehensive and hurt. 

“Do you…” he swallowed hard, throat convulsing, and she realized that the question he was about to ask her was almost enough to bring him to tears. “Do you want to split up?”

“No. No; of course I don’t want to split up. I love you. But I don’t think that I could live with the guilt if I were the reason you lose everything you’ve worked so hard for.” She touched his face. “I don’t want to become a problem for you.”

His hand covered hers, squeezing against her knuckles. “You could never,” he said softly, leaning closer to bring their foreheads together. “It’ll be alright. We’ll be careful. Besides,” he angled his head to kiss her nose. “You think I’ll be the only MP having an affair? Most of them are sleeping with at least one other woman who’s not their wife. Hell, a lot of them have whole second families stashed away somewhere.”

He’d had her gather up dirt on a good many of his fellow MPs after he was elected. Just in case they ever needed to twist someone’s arm on something or ensure their silence on certain topics. She knew better than most the kinds of dirty secrets those men in their pompous, expensive suits and positions of power held close.  

“Listen,” Tommy wetted his lips, sitting up and taking a hold of both her shoulders. “If you really don’t want me to marry Lizzie, I won’t.”

“No, it’s fine…”

“If me marrying her means that I can’t be with you, then I won’t do it. You’re too important. I can’t lose you.”

She leaned closer, until their foreheads were touching, her fingertips laying upon his cheeks. “You have me. This marriage is what’s for the best. For you and Ruby.”

“Your happiness matters too.” 

She looked down with a sad smile. Sweet and gentle as his words were, they were hard to believe. Not when she’d put what was best for him over her being content every time.  

“Hey, look at me,” he coaxed her chin back up with his hand. “It does. It does. Ey?” He cradled the side of her face, thumb stroking her cheekbone. “We’re going to be just fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

She nodded shakily, breaths stuttering with the emotion inside her chest. 

“Come here,” he drew her closer, and she let her hands rest on his chest when he slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her in a way that was soft but impossibly deep, tongue stroking slowly into her mouth. 

She kissed him back, eager for him to drive away the storm inside her and silence the cruel voices in her own head. With a soft sound of desperation, Tommy’s hands went to her shirt, fumbling with the buttons. Lucy’s fingers found their way into his hair while he abandoned her lips to instead pepper kisses down her neck. His large hands were warm even through the material of her clothes. With a soft whine, Lucy pressed herself closer, chasing the heat of his touch. 

Soon as her shirt was fully open, he pushed it eagerly off of her shoulders, hands smoothing across her ribs. While he explored the newly exposed skin, she set to work getting him out of his own shirt, tossing the button down to join hers on the floor, then coaxing him to raise his arms enough so she could pull off the undershirt layered beneath. Tommy loosened the ties on her bra, pulling it away and almost immediately cupping both breasts in his hands, squeezing and massaging the globes of flesh, running his thumbs across her nipples until she trembled.

His mouth returned to hers, and as they kissed he got her out of her trousers and knickers and promptly manhandled her into his lap, an arm around her waist to help keep her balance. Their foreheads knocked clumsily against each other at their eagerness to steal more kisses, but neither seemed to care. 

By this time tomorrow, he would be married. Lucy wondered if moments like these with him would become a rare occurrence. Ones that she would have to hold dear and make the most of whenever she got the chance. 

As if reading her mind, Tommy pulled back just enough for their eyes to meet, thumb stroking her freckled cheek. 

“I’m always going to be yours. No matter what,” he said resolutely. 

Lucy felt a lump swell in her throat. “Don’t make me cry right now.”

His lips quirked up. “Sorry,” he kissed her again. “But I mean it.”

“I know. I know you do, love.” She found his lips once more, and he promptly banished any other thoughts of his impending nuptials with the opening of his mouth against hers, and the tender stroke of his hands down her back. 

After what happened to her during the vendetta, her back was covered in a mass of crisscrossed scars. Tommy’s hands traced the shape of them, as he had dozens of times before with both his hands and lips. The skin was more sensitive since the injuries that left it so mangled, and he kept his touch light and careful. 

Pressing down deeper into his lap, Lucy ground against the growing bulge in his trousers, earning herself a deep hiss. He tried to chase her when she drew back from their kisses, the small whine he released making her smile. 

Giving him a small, teasing smirk, she slid her hands down his body to fumble with his belt, Tommy lifting his hips dutifully to allow her to easily pull his trousers and briefs down his legs. 

His half hard cock sprang up, bobbing before her, and a low groan sounded from Tommy’s throat when she wrapped her hand around it, stroking him slowly to full hardness. As he swelled in her hand, she leaned forward to press kisses to his stomach, making her way lazily up his chest. Between her legs, her clit ached, her walls squeezing around nothing at the way his cock throbbed against her palm. 

The arm Tommy had around her waist gave her a small squeeze, readjusting her in his lap so that she could straddle one of his thighs. She moaned softly into his chest when she pressed down, grinding eagerly. Tommy hissed through his teeth at how wet she already was, her slick soaking his leg whilst she humped him. Peering up and seeing a sudden opportunity in their current position, Lucy settled her unoccupied hand on his ribs, dipping her head to suck one of his nipples into her mouth. He let out a startled grunt at the action, hips bucking into her hand of their volition. Lucy giggled, circling her tongue around him and enjoying the way he shivered as she bit lightly at the hardened peak. 

Letting him go with a small pop, she peered up at him innocently, probably looking far too pleased with herself at having caught him unawares. Tommy touched her cheek lightly, brows knitted in mock sternness that was greatly undercut by the sparkle in his eyes. 

“What was that for, eh?”

She shrugged, trying–and failing–to contain her grin as she gazed up at him. Tommy’s eyes narrowed playfully.

“You trying to get me to punish you, hm?” his hand stroked her face, and when his thumb passed across her lips, she nipped at it, snickering when he snatched it away.

“Always.”

His cock twitched in her hand, and she raised an amused eyebrow at him, taking note of the reaction.

“Get over here then,” he grunted, both hands landing on her hips. She bit her lip around her smile, letting him pull her into position over his cock. “Ready?”

She nodded, and he kissed her cheek, slowly guiding her down onto him. They both moaned at the stretch as she slowly took him into her inch by thick inch. 

“God, you’re always so tight,” burying his face in her neck, Tommy wrapped his arms around her. Lucy hummed, walls aching slightly at his considerable girth, giving herself a moment to adjust before she started to move. 

Tommy’s moans were low, his eyes lidded heavily whilst he watched her begin to bounce on him, hands situating to help guide her movements, their pace starting out slow. 

It was amazing how easily it was for her to realize just how silly she was being once his hands were on her. The way that he looked at her, with so much love and adoration brimming in his big blue eyes, was proof enough that he was just as unlikely as she was to be able to survive them being parted from each other. 

When he was there to help ground her, it was easier to quiet her insecurities and trust that he would ensure everything turned out alright. He cherished their relationship as much as she did; surely he would do everything within his power to keep it safe. 

It was when she was on her own, left with only her own thoughts to keep her company, without Tommy around to help balance out and quiet them, that she started to get into trouble. No matter how unreasonable and absurd she knew she was being, once she started to spiral, it was almost impossible for her to manage to stop it on her own. 

They’d learned that the hard way, during the holiday they took right after the vendetta was over, when they both nearly lost themselves to their ravaged minds. 

“Oh fuck, fuck. That feels good. Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop, Lucy,” Tommy groaned, eyes rolling in his head when she started to pick up the pace and swiveled her hips on him. His grip on her tightened, cheek resting against hers while his head tipped back.

“Close,” she warned, as if he couldn’t already tell from the way she was moaning into his neck, walls fluttering around him.  

With a growl, his hips rolled up more vigorously into her, hand sneaking between their bodies to find her clit.

“Oh…” her eyes screwed shut, orgasm so close she could almost taste it. “Please, please…”

“Hm? Please, what, pretty girl?”

She sobbed at the low octave his voice had dipped into, hands scrambling at his powerful shoulders. Tommy chuckled.

“Can’t give you what you want if you won’t tell me, sweetheart.”

“H-harder…”

“Harder, eh? You mean like this?” Hand splaying out firmly at the small of her back to keep her from falling off, he started to snap his hips up with more force, adding more pressure to her clit as he did. 

She could only answer with a moan, drawing scratch marks down his back. Tommy chuckled, the vibrations reverberating throughout his chest and rumbling pleasantly against her. 

It took only a handful more thrusts, and a kiss to her temple, and she came hard. It sent explosive bursts of color flashing across her eyes, entire body tensing and relaxing simultaneously with the force of her orgasm. She held onto Tommy for dear life, and without even really thinking, so overcome with pleasure and affection for him, she bit into his shoulder. 

Tommy let out a massive moan, eyes rolling at the sting of her teeth against his skin. And suddenly he was seizing her in his arms and rolling them. Her back hit the mattress, one of his strong palms cradling the back of her head and neck to protect them.     

He practically loomed over her, something wild and animalistic awakened in his eyes. Lucy couldn’t quite stop the gasp that left her lips at how the sudden position change emphasized just how much bigger he was than her. 

But it didn’t feel threatening. Not in the slightest. To her, Tommy would never truly seem scary or intimidating. When it came to her, he only ever offered protection and love. 

Biting her lip, she stared at the center of his chest. She probably wouldn’t have been able to even recall her own name had someone asked. She was too encompassed by the feelings of being both incredibly protected and aroused. 

With a growl that seemed to echo throughout the entire room, Tommy started thrusting into her wildly. Lucy gasped, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him in tighter against her. 

“Fuck,” her eyes closed, head falling back as her hands moved from where they’d settled on his waist to instead smooth across his strong back, feeling the way his muscles clenched and shifted under his skin. Tommy chuckled when she reached down to briefly squeeze a handful of his ass, vibrations rumbling against her neck where his lips were pressing soft kisses and gentle nips. 

She could feel that he was drawing nearer to his release, his breaths stuttering in his chest, hips driving into hers desperately. He was entering her at an angle that had his pubic bone grinding against her clit with each thrust, and it did not take long for her to be teetering on the edge as well, walls starting to spasm around his twitching cock. 

“Shit,” Tommy grunted, hands fisting in the bedsheets on either side of her head. “Lucy.” He said her name like it was the most precious thing in the entire world, and she felt tears burn at the edges of her eyes. 

“Fill me up,” she half begged, head tipping back and eyes closing. Her second orgasm ripped through her with such ferocity that her legs twitched around Tommy’s waist, walls clamping down on him in a vice grip. 

Tommy cried out, one hand scrambling to seize hold of hers, lacing their fingers together and squeezing as he spilled his seed inside her. His forehead landed to rest on her temple, breaths heaving in his chest, hips thrusting lazily to prolong their pleasures until both were utterly spent.     

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Lucy stared up at the canopy covering the bed, Tommy’s weight comforting and heavy on top of her. He curled both arms underneath and around her, head turning to settle on her clavicle while his breathing returned to normal. She ran her fingers delicately through his soft dark hair, sighing when he pressed a delicate kiss to the hollow of her throat. 

When he finally did decide to move, it was to merely pull his softening cock out of her and maneuver them to lay on their sides facing each other. He always did worry about squishing her when she was under him. 

Lucy swallowed harshly when she looked into his eyes, his hand returning to its favorite pastime of stroking her face. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, tracing the shape of her lips. “I know that this whole thing is so fucking shitty for you, love.” The arm around her tightened, and he drew in a little closer to her. “Whatever you need from me to make it easier for you, please, just tell me. Don’t ever feel bad about it. You won’t be causing problems, or being selfish, I promise. I need to make sure that you’re okay.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, laying a hand on his waist, feeling his side expand with his breaths. 

“I mean it, if you really don’t want me to do this…”

“So long as Lizzie continues to be alright with our arrangement, I think it’ll be fine. It’s just going to take some getting used to at first.” 

“More for her than for you or me. Once the honeymoon is over, things will go mostly back to the way that they were before.”

“It still doesn’t seem fair to her.”

Tommy shrugged. “She agreed to it. And we’ve asked multiple times now if she’s still sure that she’s alright with the arrangement. She’s said yes every time.”

“She could still always change her mind.” The thought chilled Lucy to her core. What would they do if that happened? Tommy would be bound to her, unable to get away without creating an absolute shitshow. “Once the ink dries on that marriage license and the rings go on, she has you forever.” 

“No, she doesn’t.” Tommy propped himself up slightly, brows pulling together. His hand reached out for her face, taking firm hold of her cheek, thumb drawing across her cheekbone. “She doesn’t own me. I can make my own choices. We have made it as clear as we can what she is getting herself into. If she does change her mind, as far as I’m concerned, that’s her problem. Not ours. She’ll have to decide if she can live with what she agreed to or not. Rings can be taken off, love. If they have to be.”

“We both know that it’s not that simple.”

“Hey,” his grip tightened, forcing her to meet his worried eyes. “It doesn’t have to be forever.” 

Face creasing in confusion, she searched his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Tongue darting out to wet his lips, Tommy swallowed. “Well, after I retire from politics, or after Ruby comes of age, or when society becomes more accepting about things like divorce–”

She gaped at him. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

“Why not?”

“So, what? You just divorce her when the time is right?”

“Yes.”

“And then what?”

He shrugged. “And then…you and I could get married, if that’s what you wanted,” her heart did a little swoop. “Or we could carry on as we have before. Whatever you want.” 

“If you wait until Ruby is of age, that’s almost twenty years,” she frowned, suddenly deeply aware of her own thirty-three years. “You aren’t gonna want me anymore when I’m all old and wrinkly.”

“I’ll always want you.” 

“You make it really hard to argue with you when you’re being so bloody charming.”

He grinned, thumb running along her cheekbone. “Sorry,” he said, though he very obviously was not. He took hold of her face with both hands. “I know how bloody selfish it is to ask you to wait for me–”

“I’ll wait,” she said, without hesitation. His gaze softened, leaning down to kiss her deeply in gratitude.

“Thank you,” he dropped his face to peck her bare shoulder. “It isn’t forever. Remember that. And if we need to end it prematurely–if you need me to end it prematurely–even if the timing isn’t ideal, I’ll do it. Just say that word.” Leaning back, he cocked his head, suddenly very serious. “She doesn’t have me. You have me. Always.”

She started to sniffle. “I told you not to make me cry.”

He stroked away her tears and then engulfed her in a tight hug, her cheek squishing into his chest. “Sorry,” he said again, this time much more genuine. She shook her head against his apology, burrowing closer. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Lucy.” His cheek adjusted against her head. “Promise you will tell me if you’re having trouble in here,” he tapped the crown of her head and stroked her curls, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I don’t like the thought of you suffering in silence when I could help.”

“I don’t want to be all clingy and cause you more problems—“

“You and your needs are never a problem,” he leaned back, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “And maybe I like you clingy.”

She snorted quietly at that. “It’s going to be hard to be away from you for so long.” The honeymoon was only planned to last a week, but it was easily the longest they’d ever been away from each other. 

Tommy let out a pained sound. “I really don’t want to go.”

She touched his jaw, trying to soothe him. “You might have fun…”

“She’s making us go to fucking Paris, Lucy.”

“I know,” she said softly. Her eyebrows had nearly risen all the way up to her hairline when Lizzie had announced Paris as the location she wanted them to honeymoon in. It made her wonder how Lizzie could claim that she knew Tommy at all, when she couldn’t even seem to understand why he might not be particularly thrilled to go anywhere located in France. “It’s just for a week,” she tried to convince herself as much as him. 

“We can talk on the phone.”

“Oh, she’ll love that.”

He shrugged. “That’s the price she pays for not wanting you to come.”

“Mm,” Lucy hummed, touching his face affectionately. Silence fell over them, just staring into each other’s eyes, caressing the other’s cheeks and jaws tenderly. 

“You still have my soul, you know?” she remarked, voice seeming very quiet in the otherwise dark stillness of the room. The first gift she ever gave him, presented at their first official meeting, during the deal that began the merging of their two beings into one. Please, don’t throw it away.  

Tommy’s hand took hold of one of hers, guiding it to press against his chest above his heart. “And you still have my heart.” Please, don’t break it, his eyes begged. Lucy swallowed at the memory of the night he offered it to her, as an equal trade for the soul she’d already relinquished to him. 

He urged her face up to look at him, her wide green eyes meeting his icy blue ones. He kissed her softly, so much raw emotion packed into the brush of their lips that she nearly broke down into hysterical sobs right there in his arms. 

“We’re going to be okay.”

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[oodlyenough]

continuing my arcane s2 ted talks i guess, i've been trying to decipher how i feel about the medardas' plotline in s2 and i never really land anywhere but a sort of disgruntled marge simpson groan.

i think anyone who paid any attention at the end of s1 or spent even ten seconds theorizing probably knew mel was a mage and her shield magic would protect some or all of the council. i was surprised this reveal didn't happen right away, and i liked that initially we see an overhead shot showing her totally-undamaged bubble around her seat. i could roll with jayce wondering why he survived and mel sort of shrugging it off. the black rose stuff in act 1 i also found intriuging and the action scene with amara was cool. i was excited that kino would be more relevant

but then act 2 ... it felt like we put mel in the torture labyrinth only to draw two conclusions, the first being that she's a mage (no duh; we could've revealed it in the first episode) and the second being that she's a bastard child from a secret love affair her mom had. and then we uh. didn't really explore that second part at all. we learn, sort of, that her mom has some beef with the black rose; if you don't play League you have no idea who or what they are; they claim Ambessa let Kino die and only wants Mel as a weapon; when confronted Ambessa only half-answers and seems to disdain mages; Ambessa ends up fighting Mel, gets killed by Mel's double bluff, and then Mel takes over the Medarda clan for... some reason (does she want to? does she HAVE to?)

mostly it ends up feeling like a backdoor pilot for a future noxus spinoff. and a future noxus spinoff starring mel isn't a bad idea; it's just that it feels like a lot of screentime in an already-frantic final season for arcane was then spent on a plotline that doesn't really resolve.

also in season one i thought mel and ambessa's relationship was very interesting and i looked forward to more of it. i thought the idea of ambessa sending mel away because mel's big puppy eyes made her feel guilty for doing what she felt she had to do, and mel feeling that as a rejection/banishment/lack of love fit nicely into the general themes of s1. i... just don't really know how the secret mel magic that ambessa hates and/or covets (unclear) adds to that rather than weakening it. their two conflicting worldviews alone set them up nicely to butt heads in season 2, especially with caitlyn potentially stuck in the middle, torn between both of their guidances and philosophies. instead it's like mel mostly inhabited a different show for most of her screentime.

i'm also not super convinced ambessa was written with the same level of sympathy characters like silco got in season 1. it certainly seems to me she gets less of that from fandom, anyway, who treat her like a uniquely evil character even for a major antagonist. it's hard for us to understand her motives when we don't really know what they ARE, the origin of her black rose feud, who tf the rose are to begin with, the true circumstances around kino's death and mel's banishment, etc... if this is all the unofficial pilot for a Noxus spinoff it might as well have just waited until then and let us use this screentime to expand on the other things in s2 that needed to be expanded/wrapped up in their final season.