#originally was going to be one of these ships

[thecoochiefairy]

short n’ sweet. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 4.7K word count. blackfem!reader/original character, onyankopon, football player!onyankopon, sweet!onyakopon, dominant!onyankapon, arrogant!onyankopon, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, squirting, creaming, aggressive dirty talk, nasty sex chile, just a fine ass black man, minors aren’t welcome!

𝓐ᥫ᭡

𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ guess who it is? yo’ favorite couple. now, lemme’ tell you. this is NOT the new fic, so look out for that in the next couple of days. this was just the nasty part of my mind wanting to put pen to paper—and i might’ve seen this video that reminded me of ole’ girl and ony real bad. so i suggest watching before reading ;) it’s nasty. sorry? kinda? not really. okay, bye.

𝓐ᥫ᭡:: your baby’s birthday is full of surprises.

visual.

STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE HADN’T BEEN YOUR ONLY CHOICE. From Bratz, to Hello Kitty, the possibilities of a six month olds birthday party shouldn’t have been so complex—that was, if you weren’t dealing with your black ass family. 

Driving from New Orleans to Mississippi wasn’t the issue. It was planning this party, having to take it three hours from your hometown, packing your children up for their first road trip, and making sure everything was set in stone by the time you arrived.

To top things off, you didn’t…feel well. 

Once again, this was all the doing of your mother in law. You loved her, but her desires of doing everything to her perfection could be—suffocating.

It was an exciting time—your baby girl was turning six months old, and the entire family freaked out as if this weren’t you and Onyankopon’s second baby. You could appreciate everyone’s desire to celebrate—aunts, uncles, Onyankopon even had a couple of his teammates coming.

The idea of planning this whole thing was supposed to be fun. But it became less fun when you had the realization that you weren’t the one in charge of this. It was even more frustrating that Onyankopon tried his best to tame his mother, but there was nothing much he could do when she had her mind made up. 

So you did what you always did—gave a smile, and tried not to fuss as much as you wanted to.

It started with the decorations. You’d bought everything you wanted for your baby girl’s party to give Strawberry Shortcake down to her outfit—however, after going over budget, you found out that your mother in law had gotten decorations professionally made, and she decided that your decorations were too “Boring.” 

Strike two was when she decided to ship everything to your house and not hers, meaning that you were overflowing the car, but you had to pack your own stuff, your husbands, and two babies into Onyankopon’s G—Wagon. 

Strike three—your breast ached from having to feed Sage within this three hour drive, you had the worst cramps on the planet—and you learned that Salem could become carsick. You stopped two times, having to change his clothes, hold him within the passenger seat with a tiny bottle of water, and made sure no vomit made it anywhere on the seats. 

When you finally made it to your mother in laws, all you wanted was a nap. Onyankopon offered to take the kids downstairs for a while as you slept, but around the clock, Sage could be what you called a velcro baby, losing her everlasting shit if you weren’t within arms reach.

 You were tired, irritated, and sore more than usual. But you weren’t gonna cry.

It all led up to the day of your baby girl’s birthday—the morning was a little more chaotic than you hoped for, current focus along feeding Sage, while your mother in law ran rapidly around the house.

“Where are the cupcake toppers? Did you move them?”

Your eyes flick up to her, standing in a pale pink and red apron, looking like a mentally insane pastry chef.

Your voice is soft as you say, “Ony put everything in the garage like you asked him to, momma.”

She doesn’t waste a beat to rush out of the kitchen, leaving the scent of buttercream behind. You turn your attention down to Sage, the baby smacking her lips against your nipple as she continues to suckle.

You can’t even properly greet your husband as he enters the kitchen, not to mention, he was doing a great job of avoiding your irritation and his mother’s wrath. He’d camouflage into the wall if he could.

“Lil’ mama already lookin’ for yo’ titty this early?”

You release a soft breath, “I’m really thinkin’ about taking her off—putting her on the bottle for good.”

Your eyes narrow a bit, “And where have you been? Yo’ momma in here’ about to lose her mind because you moved the cupcake toppers.”

“That’s how you greet yo’ man? Don’t start trippin’ on me, girl. Forreal’.”

He pecks a kiss on your lips, leaning down to do the same with his baby’s forehead. Your irritation might’ve soothed a bit.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, “I’m just—as little sleepy, is all. Good morning,” you pull him in for another soft peck on the lips, “Where’s Say-Say? Still sleep?”

“Yeah—lil’ nigga tried to swing on me earlier cause I told him to hand over that pacifier. But he ‘sleep—climbed his bad ass in Sage’s pack-n-play. The real question is—how you doin’?“

You can’t even answer the question. Onyankopon’s mother comes back into the kitchen as she questions, “Onyankopon—did you move the cake toppers? I told you not to touch them!”

Onyankopon raises an eyebrow, “And have you cuss’ me out? Hell nah’ I ain’t touch ‘em. They’ been in the garage since we got here.” 

“Are you sure you didn’t hear me mention the attic, and that’s where you actually put them?”

She dismisses his statement, the sound of opening and shutting doors echoing into the kitchen as she frantically pulls at the wood.

“Are you sure you ain’t lose em’?” 

“I have a great memory!” she huffs, “If I can’t find them—the cupcakes are gonna be dull—they don’t look a lick of Strawberry Shortcake!—And y’all just sitting there, watching me freak out!” 

She gives you no time to defend yourself, stomping out of the kitchen as she cusses. Your jaw is clenched a bit, turning back towards Onyankopon as you raise an eyebrow, “You wanna know how I’m doing? Forreal’? ‘Cause that might cause an argument.”

His eyes narrow, "C’mon, bro. Don’t start. You know how my momma be’."

“I ain’t even say nothing, Ony. You keep reminding how yo’ momma acts, but you ain’t saying nothing to her.”

 Your voice is a little sharp, pulling yourself back as Onyankopon tries to grab for Sage, “Stop—You know she’s gonna start crying.”

"If you 'bout to start somethin', can you do it after the party?" He takes note of your attitude, his voice more stern than usual, “We came all the way out here for lil’ mama—I ain’t about to let y’all make a scene.”

“I’m literally more calm than I should be,” you deadpan, “How you finna’ check me about my attitude but not yo’ momma? Your priorities are in the wrong place right now.”

Onyankopon smacks his lips, “I ain’t realized there was a manual on how to react when yo’ wife actin’ salty, and yo’ momma in the next room ‘bout to pop a blood vessel.”

“What you’ want me to do, Ony? How should I act?” You question, placing Sage against your shoulder, gently patting her back, even in the midst of your irritation.

“Just chill. I ain’t tryna’ click out on you and my momma.” 

Onyankopon’s gaze is serious, not backing down despite your glare.

“I’m so serious.” 

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow, “I’m sorry that me being irritated with the fact that we drove three hours—well, let’s wrap it up to five since Salem was car sick—that I had to also feed Sage— not to mention that I was extremely uncomfortable since we had no room in the backseat with all the extra decorations your mom decided to buy when I already bought some! I’m running off twelve hours of sleep in the past two days, and somehow your momma still thinks I’m not doing enough. My fault—let me chill.”

Sage burps, babbling as she wraps her mouth along the end of your shoulder. Your arms are sore at this point. You sigh, “Take her,” as you lean your baby girl into his arms.

Sage babbles, wrapping her toothless gums on the end of his t-shirt, rubbing her face into her fathers chest. 

“Aight,” He nods, hearing the frustration in your voice, “I’m sorry. You’ right.”

You don’t mean to be snappy—You don’t want to be. You hate when you get like this, another exhale blowing from your lips as you’re holding that urge to cry. God, your period was definitely coming. Not only are you emotional, but even being upset with your husband, you wanna be as close to him as possible. And—were you a little horny? 

You rub the muscular bicep of his tattooed arm, “You mind getting her dressed while I take a quick nap?”

He nods, “Of course. I was gon’ do that anyways.”

He takes Sage onto his shoulder, “I’ll come wake you up so you got time to get ready—just focus on sleeping, aight? I’m ‘bout to get Say-Say dressed and go help my momma with these cupcakes before dressing Sage.”

You reach for his ear, rubbing affectionately as you hum, “You’re so sweet, Daddy. Thank you.”

Onyankopon’s serious gaze eases, a smirk growing on his face.

“Aight—you know ain’t no callin’ me that if you ain’t gon’ do all the rest,” He shakes your grip from his ear, pressing a kiss on your palm. 

“C’mon, ‘fore you get me worked up.”

You roll your eyes, giggling softly as you begin making your way back upstairs—but you can’t help but listen to Onyankopon talking to your daughter—as he always did.

“Don’t worry, baby. All of us gon’ be back in NOLA soon, and yo’ momma gon’ be back to herself—You gon’ get to see aunties, uncles— whatchu think? A whole lotta Strawberry Shortcake, huh? What a life you’ blessed with, pretty mama…”

Getting some type of rest definitely puts you in a better headspace, and the true realization that you were celebrating your baby’s birthday couldn’t have made you any happier. Sage’s Strawberry Shortcake Party was in full swing. 

Sweets and desserts scattered across the plaid picnic table for guests to choose from. Everyone was here—family, Onyankopon’s players, even you and your mother in law were now getting along—everyone was in adoration of your baby, the celebration being better than you expected it to ever be. 

Your dress matched Sage’s strawberry covered bonnet, oversized along her dark curls, her dress fluffing out from its poofy frill. The sight had you snapping a thousand pictures— however, you’re a bit distracted. 

You’d redone Onyankopon’s braids for him the night before, the olive green shirt he wears clinging to his muscular frame, complimenting his brown skin that mixes with all of his tattoos. It’s something about how much of a southern man he really was—being in between New Orleans and Mississippi—he’s sporting jeans, a hefty belt shining under the natural light coming into the house, cowboy boots heavy on his feet with each step. Facial hair, face tats, it all pulls together with the print hung under his belt that he can’t seem to tuck. 

God. 

But you’re no better—the mini halter dress you wear molds around your full hips and ass, lace trimming along the end of the pale pink material. Your matching woven sandals show off the French tip of your toes, dark curls framing around your curvy figure.

The sight of your husband—it’s becoming a problem. Your heart swells as you hold Salem in your arms, the tune of Happy Birthday echoing to your baby girl, Onyankopon holding her up towards the cake, allowing her to tear the dessert apart piece by piece. She’s giggling, and to see Onyankopon so soft with your daughter that you created together—it made you love him even more. 

 Back to the point of him being a problem— now, he’s being touchy. 

Salem’s a bit more independent now, running around the yard with his cousins as he screams out in excitement. You have the perfect view of your family enjoying the celebration that your mother in law put so much time and effort into—you couldn’t help but thank her, despite your differences. 

Back to the point again, Onyankopon being a problem. His fingers become hooked along the waist of your dress, his face pressed in the crook of your neck as he kisses on your skin, gently nipping and licking.

You knew your husband to be affectionate, so to him, this was just showing you love in a way that he felt was innocent. But with each kiss, each compliment, your clit throbbed. 

Maybe he noticed. Maybe he didn’t.

The party was now close to ending—Sage and Salem being taken upstairs to bed, leaving the rest of the adults downstairs, drinking and catching up with each other. You leaned yourself against his shoulder as he talked to his teammates, lightly padding your fingers against his lower back in the softest way. Your palms travel, finding the warmth of his ear—you start rubbing there.  

Onyankopon can always sense your change in temperature. Your hands wander aimlessly on his body at this point, still giving no reaction to your touch as he occasionally takes a long swig from the bottle of beer in his hand.

You’re looking at him— his legs spread against the chair, boots flat along the ground, bulge prominent as he continuously attempts to adjust himself. Your mind won’t stop fantasizing, and you can imagine yourself just—

Dishes. You needed to do the dishes.

The moment you say your goodbyes to everyone, you’re quiet as you wash off the ceramic plates into the sink. You can hear Onyankopon throwing things in the trash behind you, a sigh parting from your lips as you ask, “That was nice, wasn’t it?”

“Mhm.”

 His hands slide up from behind, his arms enveloping your body as his hands gently rub circles along your stomach. Your body is pressed against his, warm and needy—but, was this the right time to speak up? 

“My baby had a big day,” He says, his voice in a low hum.

“I just wish she would be able to remember times like these, you know? She was so giggly and excited to smash her cake, and her outfit was adorable—those are times we’ll never get back with her. I’ll think about them a lot,” you softly smile, leaning yourself back against your husband's chest.

“She gon’ know how much we loved her,” He kisses on the side of your neck, “We do got’ a few more times like this before Salem hits three, so don’t beat yo’self up too much, aight? Our family is perfect.”

You press your lips together at that. Turning your head to face him, you’re tilting up to find the gaze of his height. Your brown eyes pool into his sight, hand reaching for his facial hair, scratching your fingers into the coils of it.

“Thank you for holding me together today. I was a little frustrated earlier—but everything turned out better than I ever thought it would. I was good, wasn’t I?”

“It’s nothing you gotta thank me for, baby. We do this as a team, aight? You was’ good, even when you had every reason to be upset. You my lil’ team player, forreal’.”

That makes you smile. Your eyes are right below his as you say, “You’ my big team player,” you softly giggle.

“I know that. C’mere.” 

His hand cups the back of your head, locking your lips into a kiss, full lips overlapping yours. It removes the lip combo you wear, tongue deepening itself in your mouth. 

“Yo’ ass was good today, Mama.”

You’re always ready to accept his kisses, but sometimes—between you and yourself—you couldn’t handle Onyankopon when he got like this. Not to mention that your body felt overly sensitive in the moment, so just from a kiss, you were trembling.

You’re shy within your giggle as you breathlessly muse, “T—Thank you, baby.”

“You already know I’m gon’ thank you some more in ‘bout two minutes. Take yo’ ass upstairs.”

Onyankopon was always a man of his word. Here you were now—body shuddering from his tongue previously nose deep in your pussy, heart rate pounding in your ears as you straddled your smaller frame atop of his. You loved riding him—but you loved seeing his face more, rather than facing the opposite way as you were now. On the other hand, Onyankopon loved this position just as much as seeing your pretty face— his eyes continuously traced over the ink tattooed along your back, the dark pink complimenting your caramel skin. 

You whimper to him, “Wanna see you, Ony.” 

His tip is already being engulfed by the pretty pink of your folds, puffy as they’re stretched by the girth of him. 

Onyankopon takes a handful of your hair, giving it a tug—your body quivers the minute you feel his other palm smack your ass, “Yo’ shit too muhfuckin’ pretty, Mama. Lemme’ enjoy you like this.” 

Your lashes brush against your freckled cheeks as you slowly lower your hips, every inch of him being sucked in by your pussy, the back of your thighs meeting his abdomen as you go down. The curls of your hair drape along your figure with the sway of your body dipping, your lips parting a bit, shakily gasping in the softest way. 

Leaning yourself against his legs, your teeth lightly tug at your lower lip as you rock down, finding a rhythm within the angle, skin creating the tiniest clapping echo against his dick. You part a whimper from your lips. 

“Goddamn, Mama—Who you doin’ allat for?” 

A hand makes its way over the front of you, rubbing the middle of your stomach to feel your body shift. His touch has you arching, your soft cry of pleasure deafening to your own ears as your ass bounces on his hips. You never sounded like this so early. 

“Ion’ know who you was tryna’ play,” Onyankopon grunts out—you’re like a pendulum, putting him in a trance with the way you wine your body. But that never stopped his mouth. 

“A nigga gon’ know if you need him as soon as you walk inna’ room—allat’ attitude, touchin’ on me—That’s how you know a nigga love yo’ ass. You love me, huh?” 

“Love you,” your voice is still soft, whimpering as you hold your ass in your own palms, spanking yourself, “Love you, Ony…” 

Every time he mentions the word love, even indirectly—you’re like a puppy, willing to agree to anything that comes from his mouth. That’s how it’s always been. 

“You a good lil’ bitch,” he grunts, “Keep fuckin’ me.” 

His clasp at the end of your curls has your eyes rolling, your mouth pouting as he tugs you down to meet the sticky heat of your pussy becoming wetter. His palm lowers itself, gripping your ass, finding a hold there—you’re dropping, dropping, you’re groaning in the prettiest way, “Ughn, O—Ony…” 

“Keep singin’, baby. Keep throwin’ that shit.” 

His desire for you grew with each child, with each touch, with each word. But he would still give you the world.

Onyankopon always gave you an immense amount of pleasure—but when he wanted to reward you—god, you were lucky you weren’t a mental patient.

The positions are always dominated by him, now having you bent at the edge of the bed, body arched to perfection, legs tucked underneath his to keep you still. His fingers always find a hold of your hair, locking you in place as he’s sliding his tip up and down against your folds—slow, aching.

Your face is hidden beneath the sheets, palm finding a collection of the comforter beneath your fingers. Your pussy spreads as his tip sinks in—Onyankopon grounding  his hips, allowing the weight of his dick to fill you in all one thrust. 

Your mouth drops, “Damn, baby…”

It’s almost torturous—his tip goes from kissing at your folds, to the air within your chest leaving as you’re full in a milliseconds, dick curving into your walls, reaching for your cervix that eats a delicious pinch from his strokes. Again and again, the room fills with a sweet lullaby of the slaps his hips make against your ass. Each thrust is accompanied by a satisfying whine from your mouth. 

“This them’ good girl strokes,” he grunts, stroking through his words, “Good ass fuckin’ girl.”

For the sake of your mother in law and children, you press your mouth into the sheets, eyes rolling as your whimpers muffle through the material—but Onyankopon could be the worst sometimes.

His favorite place to grasp—your curls, his fingers collect anything he can get his hands on, using it to drop you down in the slowest he’s ever given you a thrust, his balls rubbing against your clit, dick nearly reaching for your windpipe—he’s deep, deeper than he’s ever been before.

“Don’t fuckin’ move,” his voice is dark, “Imma’ keep you here. Let you feel this big ass dick.” 

“Fuckkk.”

Your eyes roll as you gasp—your pussy was’ stuffed.

“Can’t f—feel you no more,” you whimper, trying to pull yourself together through the pleasurable tears that begin to collect in your eyes. You tremble, your mouth quivering a sob, “I’m too wet, baby. Oh my g—god…”

You don’t even realize you’re cumming—squirting for that matter—only able to hear the splat, splat of your arousal gushing in between your skin colliding together. Your thighs are trembling, the vibration traveling up to your throat as you groan. 

“Don’t be fuckin’ lyin’ to me—you feel my shit.” 

His fingers tightened around your curls, forcing you back onto his dick after a swift jerk, making your head tilt backwards for your throat to be exposed, your lower body going numb as he fucks you into an oblivious space.

He’s close, sliding his soaked tip out to see your cum glistening down the dick, to putting you back on him—again, again, again.

You’re brain is so fried, you begin bouncing yourself back on his dick, cumming, continuously cumming—you’re whining as you turn your head back towards him, “Dick so fuckin’ big, Daddy. Just taking your pussy. Just. Take…me….” 

You’re talking through the strokes you provide for yourself, you’re drooling, almost in a bimbo like state. He took you there. 

His body looms over yours as he finds a place of your throat to hold, pulling your face back to watch you. The sounds you made were identical to an angel crying, prettier than ever before. His dick finds the last crevice of space left inside you—his tip rests in between your cervix, “Make a mess on this bitch. Make. A. Fuckin’. Mess,” he emphasizes thrust. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuckkk.”

It happens—you scream—Onyankopon moans as you squeeze around him, pulling himself out to replace his dick with his fingers—he chaotically rubs your clit, fingers becoming drenched as you squirt again. 

His hand holds you in place as you cry, legs trembling, having one of the most intense orgasms you’d had with him. There’s more tears in your eyes, your head knocking into the sheets, hiding your flushed face as you hadn’t expected your own reaction.

His voice grumbled into the shell of your ear, “There you go, baby. You did that shit for me. Did all that shit for me, huh?”

You only have to let out a shaky exhale in response to his words, too exhausted to argue otherwise.

That’s when you both hear a knock— it startles you so bad that your entire body jolts, Onyankopon cradling you beneath his hold protectively. His voice is low as he responds, “Yeah, momma. What you’ need?”

“I heard screaming—is everything alright? 

You hide your face into his arm. 

Onyankopon deepens his face into your neck, chuckling before he replies, “Yeah. She—uh, saw a big ass spider. We’ good.” 

“Oh—I just wanted to check. Anyways , this baby lookin’ for yo’ wife’s nipple.“

You sigh, barely able to respond, nearly halfway asleep in the seconds they conversed with each other. Your voice is soft as you reply, “I’m comin’, momma—Just give lil’ mama her binky until then.”

The silence that fills the room confirms that she left, a quiet, soft laugh coming off Onyankopon’s lips. 

“You know she ain’t stupid—she finna’ get my ass, lawd.”

“No,” you cover your reddened face with his arm, “That’s so embarrassing. God, please go get Sage so I don’t have to face that conversation.”

“You heard how bad my ass was lyin’?”

He continues chuckling, the rumble of it hitting your back as you huff, “Ony.”

“Aight, aight,” He laughs, “Let me clean up ‘fore I head up there.“

The heat of the moment begins to fade away as your sobriety washes over you. The moment he goes to leave—you stop him. Turning to face him, you wrap your arms around Onyankopon’s neck as you pucker your lips out for a kiss, “I love you. You love me?”

“With my life, shawty,” He leans forward, pressing his lips into yours for a quick peck that you’ve been seeking.

“You sure?”

You didn’t mean to have the question sound worrisome, but your voice was a little—hesitant. You were hesitant.. 

“Baby. That’s never gon’ change. What’s going on?” he frowns, “Why’ you feelin’ like this?”

Remember all the times you said you weren’t gonna cry today? 

Too late for that. 

Your hands quickly cover your face as you feel your body trembling— you softly sob, hiding your cries within your palms as you release all the emotions you’d been holding for the past couple of days.

“Aye—What’s goin’ on, baby? Hey,” he takes your face into the palms of his large hand, “You can cry, forreal’, but what got you feelin’ like this? Why’ you think I wouldn’t love you? Talk to me.”

Your tears run down your face, cheeks as red as your baby girls as you continue to cry. Your voice shakes as you whimper, “You’re gonna be upset with me…” 

“Aight, aight, just—,” he shakes his head, cupping your face into his hands more  as he tries to figure out what to say.

“—You know I can’t stand seeing you cry. I ain’t never gon’ be mad at you for that—just talk to me.”

You take a deep breath, “I’m sorry for being mean to you, baby. I just—I love you so much—and you told me that you wanted a big family—but we just had lil’ mama, and you’re about to get back on the field again—“ 

“Mama,” he cuts off, “Slow down. What you’ tryna say? Are you pregnant?” 

“…I just—I wanted to try a new birth control because the IUD was giving me issues—and I forgot to take my pills—you probably don’t even want another baby.”

You’re crying even harder now, pressing your face into his chest.

“You—,” He sighs, not even attempting to mask his irritation, “You think I’d be upset that you’ pregnant again?” 

 His tone is low before he continues, “I don’t care if you get pregnant with ten of my kids. You my fuckin’ wife. We’ll have a whole muhfuckin’ football team if that’s what god blessed us with. I love you. That ain’t gon’ change.”

That makes your heart swell. You press your forehead to his, a tearful giggle falling from your lips. 

“I didn’t mean to start crying,” you softly say, taking a deep breath as your fingers wrap around his necklace, “My period was supposed to be a week ago, but when I realized it was late—I thought I was being dramatic thinking I was pregnant again, so I didn’t even tell you—I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be talkin’ nonsense,” He mutters, “I told you when we first started this family that the number didn’t matter to me—As long as you happy.”

“I’m more than happy,” you say, pressing your lips back into his, “I love you and our babies so much.” 

Onyankopon’s smile grows into a smirk, “I got a bunch of kids runnin’ around here anyway, Salem ‘bout two in one—I’m ready when you ready, baby.”

That makes more tears pour from your eyes. You tighten your arms around his neck as you softly cry, “I love you so much, Onyankopon.”

“I love you more, baby. Ain’t that why yo’ lil’ ass cryin’?” He chuckles, gently patting and rubbing on your back, “You gon’ be a mess if you keep goin’ like this. I’m finna’ go tell my momma—MA! MA!”

You giggle as he takes off—and at this point, you’re not entirely sure why you’re still crying. You’re just sensitive, okay?

You’re sobbing, but you’re so happy. You had no idea how lucky you truly were to have this man. Your heart flutters as you try to stop your tears, but the love for your family is making it difficult. The love for him made it all the more worse.

That was never gonna change.

[forgottenlunarium]

Near the end of the episode, when Aliss and two of the troopers go into the airlock, the display registers four entities in the airlock itself.

Shortly afterwards, there is a blast of kinetic force in the room with the Doctor, Belinda, Mo and Shaya which knocks them to the ground. After that, we see *something* moving behind Belinda, as well as confirmation that she can hear whispering. Then, after Shaya shoots Belinda, there is a gust of air that seems to move towards her.

So. So...

I think there are two entities.

And I think the Doctors stunt with the mercury mirror is to blame.

I think that the entity being reflected caused it to duplicate, with one staying on Aliss whilst the other followed after the fleeing group (this is the entity the Doctor and Belinda see moving down the corridor after them). My reason for believing this is that, as I'll outline further later, the entity is not a rules based creature that attacks according to programming. It is cruel, it is patient, and it honours no law. I don't believe that it would not attack it's own reflection like a dumb beast.

After this event, we never see any characters in the position that would normally activate the kill with Aliss, ie the Midnight Zone. Only ever slightly to one side or another. Importantly, we don't see either Aliss or the other troopers again in the episode- I believe that during the very end of the episode, somewhere aboard their ship, the entity becomes active again...

As for the second entity, I believe that this one does latch onto Belinda, before moving from her to Mo rather than Shaya. My evidence for this is that unlike with every other carrier of the entity, we never actually see anything behind Shaya, not even in passing. We don't even hear whispering (feel free to verify, I did relisten to that sequence a few times but can't be sure). The gust of wind is circumstantial, and only means that the entity moved very quickly in that area.

Oh, I hear you cry, but Aliss said that the entity always moves to whoever killed the original host! Here's the thing- the entity is cruel (see Midnight, plus the mention of it laughing as it emerged from the Well), and likes to play games. It is not, from what we've seen, a creature bound by rules like, say, the Weeping Angels- it stalks, it seeks the vulnerable, it sows distrust, paranoia, and confusion. I don't believe that such an entity would play by any rules when it's existence is on the line. Therefore, as is supported by the very final scene of the episode, I believe that the entity moved not to Shaya, but to Mo.

Meaning that Shaya killed herself entirely in vain.

Meaning that everything was all for nought.

And that, dear reader, is the most cosmically horrific part about this episode.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

an italian fish conspiracy theory

We’ve been calling Mrs. Leech “Georgina” (which I believe has Greek origins) but what if her name is actually… “Giorgina”, a more Italian spelling??? Might this be how her name will be localized in EN?

I thought this because Ultramarine City strikes me as very… mediterranean?? More specifically, Italian. For example, the geography and architecture resembles Italy’s coastlines, which are rocky. The buildings and surrounding have similar coloration as well. Seafood is highly popular both in Italian costal cities and in Ultramarine City. (These are also true of Eric’s castle + kingdom from the film.)

Furthermore! Malleus has a voice line in his Shore’s Celebration card in which he mentions having gelato, which is an Italian frozen dessert similar to ice-cream. Gelato has lower milk fat content (less cream, more actual milk) and a slower churning process, which incorporates less air into the final product.

Now, it’s true that these Italian details apply to the city and not necessarily to Mrs. Leech herself. BUT—she has an acquaintance that is getting married here, in this specific place. It’s possible that they’re connected more than we think. Maybe Mrs. Leech has more “Italian” (or whatever the Twst equivalent of it is) background than we think she does.

Jade, her own son, has a voice lines in his Shore’s Celebration card in which he mentions wanting to arrive via gondola if he were to have his own wedding on land. A gondola is—you guessed it, an Italian boat. Now why would Jade specify a GONDOLA and not a ship, rowboat, or any of the other kinds of boats…? Why would he pick a type of boat that has no appearance in The Little Mermaid (which was originally a Danish tale) and didn’t associate with a particular location like Ultramarine City?

When you think about it, this isn’t even the ONLY Octatrio member with Italian ties. The -grotto in Azul’s surname is an English word adopted in the 1600s, but originally derived from Greek, Latin, and Italian origins. We also can't forget how the trio is constantly presented as "mob" or "mafia"-like. Mafia, of course, being an organized crime group or family originally operating in Sicily, Italy.

The on-campus café Azul runs, the Mostro Lounge, is Italian for “monster” (and many fans of even mistook the name as “Monstro”, the name of the whale from Pinocchio, which is set in Italy). His mother’s restaurant, La Grotta, also sounds Italian. Grotta refers to a pothole (ie a hole or cave made in rock by the action of swirling water). Azul even specifically refers to his mother’s restaurant in a few voice lines as a trattoria, which is an Italian eatery. Not only that, but food is a huge part of Italian culture. It’s important for families to come together to eat at the same table (something which is increasingly becoming difficult to so in the modern age), and feeding others is seen as a sign of love. AND WHAT DO MRS. LEECH AND MRS. ASHENGROTTO DO??? That’s right, they give Azul lots of food 😭 Not to say that food = love is exclusively related to Italian culture, just that Italian culture is one of the cultures with that strong association.

Because the twins and Azul live in the same general area of the Coral Sea (they are familiar with the ice floes of winter, they go to the same schools, their families seem to know each other), I find all these Italian details to be more than coincidence 🤨

That’s not to say that the Coral Sea and/or the Sunshine Lands ARE 1:1 twisted Italy. I’m sure the devs have additional inspirations as well, such as other mediterranean cultures and maybe even some non-mediterranean cultures. For example, the Octatrio mention their home, the Coral Sea, being frozen over in winter, which definitely does not occur in mediterranean areas but are moreso associated with Scandinavian (like Denmark, the area in which TLM originates) seas. just thought this was interesting to note!!

Goes back to tag all my Georgina posts with “Giorgina” too just in case…

[ginsdelusions]

I absolutely adored your recent Mydei x Reader fic based off the Odyssey. It’s beautiful and one of my favorites so far.

I wanna ask if you can write a piece from Mydei’s POV? Like his reaction to learning from his son that his wife is being forced to pick a suitor in his absence because everyone thinks he’s dead (I assume it was his son who told him about this based off what happens in the Odyssey).

Hi! I am so glad to hear that!! I took some creative liberty regarding Mydei and his son’s meeting since neither the original Odyssey nor the Epic: the Musical versions fit the first fic I made nor the character of Mydei imo. I definitely think I should mention that I did not play the Amphoreus quests yet, so everything I know about Mydei is from fellow fics, edits and his googled voice lines ✨ I hope that this is what you were hoping for <3 For reference, this can be read as a prequel to this piece

It’s been twenty years. Twenty years of suffering, trials, tribulations and most importantly, 20 years away from home. Away from you. Away from his son. How much had he changed? Would you reject him after knowing what he’d done? Would you be appalled by his change? Would you refuse him as your husband? All these questions remained unanswered, and he was uncertain about the future. He was certain about one thing, though - his love for you had never changed. You were the only thing keeping him grounded, his resolve.

And finally, after 20 years of agony, waiting and voyaging, he had returned. The King of Castrum Kremnos himself, Mydeimos the Strife. He had returned.

Heavy, metallic footsteps guided him off the ship. New scars adorned his body, new experience had gathered in his mind, and new strength had fuelled his strife, as he walked toward the city he left behind, heading toward the castle. As he walked through his rightful kingdom, he noticed how the stadium was fully crowded. Peculiar.

Golden eyes caught a hooded figure’s eyes on himself. Stopping his march, the king’s eyes caught his follower’s. “Come down and reveal yourself”, he rasped. The figure jumped down from its hideout, weapon drawn. “State your name and your business”, Mydei’s gaze pierced through the person, the sharply armoured hands clenched themselves into fists as he put himself into a fighting stance.

The hooded figure seemed to hesitate for a moment, before the hood was removed. Mydei’s breath hitched. ‘Could this be..?’ His sun-like eyes were met with equally golden ones. Before him stood a man, around 20 years old, quite tall, with a toned built and hair looking just like his own. His features resembled his own, but reflected another person’s as well. The Queen’s.

Surprise and disbelief mirrored themselves in their eyes.

“Father?”

“Son?”

The young prince did not know what to say, or how to react. Neither did his father. So many things happened, so many tales untold, so many years wasted without one another. But now, it all had changed.

“All my life I would’ve died to know you. I’ve thought about your name and your stories. For 20 years, I’ve dreamt of how I’d greet you… yet, now that this moment has finally arrived.. I.. don’t quite know what to say”, the man stuttered. Mydei looked at him, his fiery gaze loving. “My son.. I am proud to see that you’ve grown so much. There has not been a day that I have not thought about you. There is so much I wish to say to you, so many tales that I wish to share, and so many more I wish to hear from you-”, the king was interrupted by some quiet roars coming from the stadium, screaming about the queen.

Mydei looked at his son concerned, “What was that just now?” “The challenge within the stadium”, the younger one lowered his gaze. “What challenge? Where is your mother? Telemachus, what is going on here?”, Mydei’s tone was steady, an eerie mixture of calm and calculating, reminiscent of the calm before a storm.

He looked up at his father. “Mother… she refused to betray you. The council has deemed you dead. They’ve been trying to pressure her into choosing another suitor.” Of all the things that he expected to have happened, that was not it. “Deemed me dead, huh? Even though they know that their king is immortal”, Mydei clicked his tongue disapprovingly, as silent rage channelled itself within him. “At first she managed to delay it by claiming that she will once she finishes weaving her shroud”, a chuckle left Telemachus’ throat. “Only that she kept unweaving all the work she did once night fell.” Mydei’s gaze was fond, and the corners of his mouth moved upward. ‘That’s my wife.’ “Smart as always.”

“Another while later, they started pestering her again. As a last resort, she’d arranged a challenge, which would only take place once all other options have been exhausted. Whoever can wield your spear and slice evenly through 12 targets cleanly in a single strike shall rule alongside her. That challenge is.. currently taking place.” Upon hearing this, the warrior started laughing. The roars from the arena got louder. “To think that these bastards pressured my wife into this… I must admit, they are daring. But my, my… I would lie if I claimed that she was not meant to be a Queen.”

The commotion had worsened by now; an outburst of pure anger and rage consumed the stadium. Mydei looked at his son. “Telemachus, lead me to your mother. Let us show the Queen that her long awaited husband has returned.”

[thebitsandblurbs]

Silver Fox

Prompt: College!Reader x Jack Abbot

Warning: violence, gun, trauma, age gap

Author’s Note: Another blurb! Had to do it- also not beta read. This one might evolve into a multi-ship, but I’m not sure yet. Also can we get a shout out for MLIS Students

If this situation couldn't get any more embarrassing, it just did.

Nevermind your friend in extreme hysterics, trying to make sure that you were comfortable and constantly asking if you were okay. And you should be freaking out, but you’re not.

That is until you saw him.

That one night stand - the one you fled from before he even woke up - was accompanying you to a trauma room. He was surprised as much as you were.

A little bit of your soul just died for a moment, replaced with the raging fires of embarrassment. You wanted to sink into the gurney.

“We can’t go to another hospital, can we?” You muttered to your friend.

“Of course not! Why woul-“ She gasped in surprise and… delight? “Oh! Silver-“

“Fox, yep.” You gritted your teeth as the gurney was lowered to the ground, and when it finally touched down. “Jesus, Mary, Joseph!”

Even before the paramedics could say anything to Jack, your friend launched into the full story.

Evidently- as it turns out- it wasn't a smart idea to take on a robber solo, and throwing something at him was an even worse idea. However, when your friend's shop is broken into by some wannabe thug, but you just had to act.

The guy came in with a knife, one that was easily disarmed with a haphazardly thrown vase of roses. You hissed at your friend to run, pushing her towards her back office where there was another door that led to a nearby alley.

The gun - one he was reluctant to use in the first place- was tucked in his pocket and drawn out as an instinct. All he wanted was the money in the register, just enough to pay off that last bit of debt.

That robber didn’t intend to have a witness, and two- well, that’s just unacceptable.

One gun shot wound to your left shoulder and a partly grazed right ear later, the robber had you cornered when police arrived. The thrown vase served as the perfect distraction for your friend to flee and get help.

The long rant, which lasted from ambulance to Trauma 2, ended with your friend being sent to the Waiting Room so you could have some peace. That was a saving grace if anything.

"I guess this is karma for leaving your apartment early,” you say to the good doctor as he approached your bedside.

Dr. Jack Abbot, ER Doctor and silver fox.

Your face burned even hotter as you remember the events leading up to you and him. He gave you a smile at the bar, and you just melted. You aren’t the type of person to have a one night stand, but something about him felt different.

And Jack could have said the same as well.

Robby just had to bring him to the bar, something about a celebratory drink for another year spent in the Pitt. To him, it was just another day; but to Robby, these type of achievements should be celebrated.

Needle in hand, ready to numb your shoulder, Jack offered you a smirk, “ If I had known you planned on sneaking out, I would’ve left you a cup of coffee…” First injection. “Thought you said you were a librarian, not a vigilante.”

“Neither- just an idiot studying Library Science,” you winced as you felt the needle pierce your skin again. “I said I wanted to be a librarian.”

A moment passed before you piped up again, “Are we on a first name basis, Dr. Abbot?”

He snorted, “Right now? No, but we could be later.”

The nurse in the room had originally given him a stunned look, but now she was just ogling at him. He, however, appeared to remain unfazed. Though, if anyone looked close enough, the back of his neck seemed a little more redder than usual. In his mind, he could have sworn you said that you were a librarian.

The age difference was substantial. Some of the nurses would certainly see this as scandalous. Hell, even Robby might have a word or two. It would be one thing if you were 30, but this might be a bit much.

Regardless, he still felt drawn to you.

“Dr. Abbot,” another nurse popped her head in, “Dr. King needs some assistance in Trauma 3.”

Oh, thank God.

He nodded, moving to stand, “Right, well-“

“It’s alright, Dr. Abbot, I can take over!” Someone said from the hall.

You only caught a glimpse of his bearded face before he rounded the corner. He seemed familiar- you recognize him as the person that gave Jack the nudge in your direction. Robby… you think his name was.

You guessed that Robby must’ve seen you come in. He let Jack take the lead on this one.

“And it looks like you’re stuck with me,” Jack said, almost smugly. Clearly, he was amused.

You two talked for a awhile, getting to know each other a little more. This was far more talking than what was done at the bar.

You found out he was a veteran and the backstory to his leg. He preferred night shifts and rarely worked day shifts. The only time he breaks eye contact is to perform a task. If he was still, then all eyes were on you. Even in a calm environment, the eye contact was intense.

He found out that you recently transferred to the University of Pittsburgh after a brief semester at PennWest University. While online classes were convenient, they weren’t for you. You lived alone, and the only friend you have is a small business owner of a nearby flower shop. She was more than happy to lend you a room above the shop as long as you were able to help out around the shop.

The following morning he spent in your room. Your clothes from the night before were beyond salvaging and thus discarded without a second thought. Your friend couldn’t afford to miss a day of work. Jack was kind enough to grab a couple of things in your size, after subtly checking the sizes on your original clothes before he threw them.

When they discharged you the next day, Jack met you at the patient bay. He was dressed in casual clothes, sunglasses on, camo bag slung over his shoulder. The sun was hitting his face just right. He certainly was a rugged silver fox, "Heard you didn't have a ride, figured I take you home rather than sitting in a grungy cab."

“And if I like grungy cabs?”

“Then you need to seriously reevaluate your tastes.” He opened the car door, “Come on.”

The car ride was riddled with a comfortable silence, every so often you would break it to give him directions. But then-

“So a… Vase?”

“What? You want me to hit him with flower power?”

“No,” he chuckled, “just a vase?”

“I’m clearly a lover, not a fighter.”

“So this is what happens when you mix both.” He sighed, “Just so you know- what you did, that was brave. Stupid, but brave.”

You scoffed, “Yea… I could’ve gotten myself killed.”

“Sure, but you put yourself in the line of fire to help a friend. That’s more than what most people would do today.” He pulled up to the curb. The car lurches to a stop. “This… is you.”

“This is me,” you echoed distantly, looking at the flower shop. You could see your friend inside, sprucing up the place. It didn’t even look like there was an accident. There was a newly installed camera by the entry way though, and what looks like a keypad.

He helped you out of the car, careful to mind your injured shoulder.

“Thanks- em- for giving me a ride home.”

Jack smiled, giving you a small nod as you passed him.

You got all the way to the door before you paused. Something tugged at your chest, your throat feels tight. You should ask him.

He was almost to the car door when he heard it, “Did you want to come inside?”

“Yea,” he locked his car, “I got time.”

[nilnether]

It seems so wrong when you think of the man we see in A1 because he never seems to care about anyone except for when they are of use to him. He sends his people to their deaths without second tought and choses spite (if it's just a tree why not retreat) and revenge (Jake gave him option to just surrender) over actually saving their lives. He thinks he's smarter, better and always right. He considers na'vi subhuman and can't believe they even dare to put up a fight. And yet, it turns out that even the worst man in the world can love his child.

It's clear there was always an intention of having Quaritch love his son. It's all over that original A2 script. In that flashback. When he takes Spider out of NeuroSect. When he stops his men from shooting Jake back on that rock because Spider is there. The final version of A2 tones it down but, why would Quaritch stop the interrogation if he really didn't care from the very begining?

It's Spider who needed those months. Quaritch came out of the tube caring already.

After all he got Spider to smile like this despite everything in just a couple of months.

I've seen with my own eyes that what they say about older men going a bit overboard when they become father is a real thing. And there are plenty of people who dislike kids except for their own. Quaritch would fit perfectly there.

And maybe that was part of the issue. Maybe combining someone with such a horrible worldview with such strong feelings was part of the problem.

One that would be the worst part, the most devastating for Spider at least, if he was the reason why Quaritch pushed for war. Babies can't be put in cryo. Baby Miles was born around the time Jake arrived and would've most likely needed to be past puberty to be able to go to Earth. If RDA decided to leave Pandora because mining unobtanium stopped being profitable he would be screwed. No one was going to keep the Hell's Gate going just for a child. No one would send a ship years later just to get them to back to Earth. Quaritch had to make sure they kept digging.

And after he attacked the Na'vi and caused the war he had to double down. If they lost Na'vi would make them leave and Spider couldn't leave. That would also explain why Paz went to fight with a still nursing baby at home. Paz had to make sure they win.

Of course, all of this was based on wrong assumptions. RDA sunk too much money into Pandora to leave it. If it cost more to mine they would charge more. Or, if it came to worst, cut a bit their profit margin (unlikely since they have monopoly). And, of course Na'vi let humans who wanted or needed to stay, stay. This war was not necessary. All it did was make Spider (and way too many other kids) an orphan.

It would make sense as he basically repeats the same mistakes in A2 and tries to have it all and ends up losing it all.

do I know, very solidly and logically, that human Quaritch was the one who did the devil's tango and created little Spider? yes. do I need to manually remind myself that specifically this man:

was a dad. he had a child. an infant. he was a father to this little baby.

and from how he was written in the og script, where he raised Spider for ~5 years. he wasn't a terrible father. at least to Quaritch standards. he read him bedtime stories. he likely got stuck under a sleeping toddler he dared not to wake.

now I can only speculate. but like. in the canon universe. he likely went to see his baby. as cruel and terrible and twisted he was. he probably held the infant. put his thumb in his son's tiny palm. smoothed his hair. even just once or twice in the time they had together.

and that's a hard image to keep together in my head

[biancadoes1]

Hi Bianca,

You don't have to post this if you don't want to. I woke up yesterday and realised I needed a break from sm. I was getting more annoyed by the things I was seeing.

The more I look at everything the more staged it all seems to be for all of them. Most of them are actors but don't seem to be able to get the job done. It looked like they took notice of all the comments that people made about previous outings. Then acted on them to make it appear as if it was legit. The only thing off was Jake not seeming to be able to look her in the eye. We all know she is comfortable holding hands with all of her friends and touching them.

In an interview both of them said they would find it hard to be disingenuous. Which now seems to be in my opinion exactly what both Nicola and Luke are doing. They are coming across as not very nice. I do think there is other stuff in the background we will never know but hope it ends soon.

I still don't for one second believe the narrative they are putting out there but it is very frustrating at the same time. I am 99% certain there will be a good outcome. If I am wrong, life will go on as normal.

Hopefully she will stop playing with people trying to hide the picture on her phone now. There is nothing wrong with having your friend there no matter what capacity that friend is. I think we all liked the fact that the original photo was one we liked.

I have been on the ship since season one which feels like a long time with lots of highs and lows but it has been fun for the most part.

I enjoy your blog and your comments and hope you continue doing it. Thanks for taking the time to read this long ramble.

Better times ahead.

Listen, I feel optimistic about this.

I want yall to understand that I don’t normally feel that way in this fandom. I usually lean on the negative side with most things (not in general life but with this) we see but I’m feeling optimistic with this because I really do think we’re at the tail end of whatever shit has been going on.

A lot of this could be CAA involvement and with the huge media push, that’s likely what it is, but I still believe this narrative can successfully be reversed because they’re not talking.

Everyone can see it’s fake. Next week, this shit will be old news if it’s already old news. They can bury it, the HP comment will be gone, and they can continue on.

This is not sustainable, whatever the fuck is going on and I still think there’s a deadline at play with the sides.

[ptej1980]

A little debrief and reset..

Just for those who need it

Theories, theories of the party and JD and Nicola’s “Launch” (lol🤭cringe)

Ok so there have been some chatter going around that it may have been her agency CAA pushing for his attendance, to redirect the focus away from her and JKR heat in the media. It Is plausible and could explain the last minute attendance. But to me it may have still been a combination of the ongoing NDA with Newts and A.

What we know by the receipts that have been sourced by @fiamat12 is that Nic was unwell, and JD was upset at the event. It was not the happy time that the media wants it to be portrayed as.

In has now come to our attention that after the event Jack Rooke close friend of Nic posted an IG story saying he left the party early but could not decide between a “gay bar” or “Italian Restaurant”. Now as a fandom we know Italian restaurants are synonymous with Luke so is Jack trying to say something or is it purely coincidental.

The day after the party Miller Mode, JDs stylist changed his bio. It originally said “stylist to the queers, weirds and beards”. And he was often known to referring to Jake as she and a princess. So why remove it? We all know why right? 😉🏳️‍🌈

Even Jake’s mates including Nic refer to him as diva and one of the girls. So yeah…..

Some people have left the ship I think not because they don’t believe in Lukola, but because of the subfandom insistence, trolling, and they feel a little betrayed because it feels in their faces.

Personally I have had time to breathe, reflect and think. Nic is kind, she cares about others and has a giant heart. If she had a choice I don’t think she would intentionally go out to offend anyone, but she is very strong in her beliefs for charities she supports. The party, a distraction, a tool. No where has she ever said or JD ever identified a relationship. The media and the subfandom has done this for them. And while it would be advantageous to correct the narrative it may be the stubborn nature of Nic being unwilling to do so or she is unable. When the truth comes out she can say that it was the media who labeled Jake as her boyfriend.

I have been a ring Truther from the beginning and nothing will ever make me believe that the Claudagh is worn for anyone else but Luke. It was designed while they were together acting loved up on the WT. And was picked up in Galway on the WT where Luke met her family.

What we saw between Nic and Luke at the WT and again at the SAGs is unmatched to what we have seen we their supposed “partners “. The adjacent narrative that neither has claimed publicly. If they were with adjacents they would not have been that unhinged. 🤭 and you know I am glad they were together because the WT was brilliant.

No matter what tomorrow brings or the next day I know Lukola will be ok. I am anticipating drama at Cannes but a repeat of SAGs for the BAFTAs.

Firmly Sat, forever sailing and Ring Truthers Unite!!

[cr-summer-wildflowers]

Nominations are Now Open!

Okay, here me out: Verin and Cerkonos. Why isn't this already a thing? Himbo 4 Himbo communication.

Or... okay okay okay - Fearne & Orym needs more fics. But also Beau/Yasha/Imogen/Laudna definitely needs more attention. Or maybe you're a Vexleth truther or an Esswulf fan or think that the Temult family dynamics are absolutely fascinating.

Does this sound like something you'd be into? Then we have a fic exchange for you!

Critical Role Wildflowers is an exchange that features pairings that have fewer than 500 works on AO3. The first step in the process is nominations - where we decide which pairings will be eligible for signing up.

Nominate here

FAQ & Rules are here

Discord is here

The things you need to know for nominations:

The relationships can be platonic or romantic, but all characters have to originate in Exandria and have under 500 works in AO3

When nominating a ship, don't use the main critical role tag for the fandom! Instead, use one of these: Critical Role Campaign One Critical Role Campaign Two Critical Role Campaign Three Exandria Unlimited (note: includes Calamity, Kymal, Divergence, as well as the original) Wildmount Wildlings Darrington Brigade Critical Crossovers The Re-Slayers Take

For the relationships - please do use the canonical tag whenever possible! This is the one that autofills whenever you start typing. If nothing pops up, then please try to add the full character name, alphabetizing by last name. (For example, Lucien Tavelle/Tyffial Wase, but Cree Deeproots/Lucien Tavelle)

Want answers to the following questions? Check them out under the cut:

How do I contact a mod?   Who all is running this anyway? How can I follow the exchange? Do I have to join the discord?

What's the schedule? What is the difference between nominations and signups? Why are they separate? What exactly is a crossover, considering campaign 3? Are platonic relationships allowed? What relationships are not included? So is everything else included? What does it mean for a relationship to not be included?

How do I contact a mod?

If you need to contact the mods for any reason, here are the ways in which you can do so. Please use the method which suits you best. If you do not receive a response within 48 hours, please try again using an alternate method.

E-mail: CR.Summer.Wildflowers@proton.me The CR WIldflowers Discord A comment to any post on the Dreamwidth Community Tumblr message or ask to the Summer Wildflowers blog.

Who all is running this anyway?

From 2021 - 2024, Wildflowers was run by @ladyofrosefire and @capitola

For 2025, it’s being run by @operafloozy with generous help from @mapleandgingeroatmeal (helping with answering questions and clarifications, discord moderation among other things), and @anubisisms (graphics design and discord creation/moderation). If you know any of us and are more comfortable reaching out to that person directly, please feel free to do so.

How can I follow the exchange?

You can follow us here on Tumblr and Dreamwidth. You can also join the CR Wildflowers Discord Community.

Do I have to join the discord?

Nope! It’s completely optional. We’ll be using the discord for questions, resources, sprints, reminders, encouragement, and general camaraderie, but if it’s not your jam - or you just are in enough discords–that's perfectly fine.

What's the schedule?

For 2025, the schedule is as follows:

Nominations Open: April 25 Nominations Close: May 8 (11:55 EST) Sign ups Open: May 9 (9AM EST) Sign ups Close: May 23 (11:55 EST) Assignments Go Out: No Later than May 26 (11:55 EST) No Penalty Default Deadline: June 23 (11:55 EST) Assignments Due: July 7 Works Revealed: July 14 Creators Revealed: July 21

What's the difference between nominations and signups? Why are they two separate things?

Nominations: You have the chance to nominate various relationships - platonic, romantic, or sexual. This is not required to participate, but if nobody nominates a relationship, you can't request or offer it.

Signups: You look through the list of nominated relationships and create 4-10 prompts based on them and offer to write 4-10 relationships. This can be relationships that you nominated or ones that you didn't - and you don't have to request or offer every relationship you nominated (it's considered good manners to at least intend to request or offer them). You have to do this step to get a gift fic.

Why is it done this way?  There are a lot of possible combinations of relationships that are out there, and you're all creative individuals. The 2024 tagset had over 300 relationships nominated. This is an exchange, which means that the offers and requests have to match. We need to limit it somehow. And you might decide to offer or request relationships that don't match the ones you nominated (maybe someone else nominated them - or someone else has an idea so brilliant that you want to steal it).  But also - the background logic for automatically signing someone up based off of their nominations would be a lot for poor AO3.

After the way campaign 3 ended, is everything a crossover? Is nothing?

The general rules we have are as follows:

a) If the characters largely interact in one campaign, nominate that pairing in that campaign. For example, Ludinus Da'leth/Trent Ikithon would be in Critical Role Campaign Two; Ludinus Da'leth/Predathos would be Critical Role Campaign Three

b) If the characters interact in multiple campaigns, nominate that pairing within the campaign they are featured in the most. For example, Keyleth & Percy interact in both Campaign One and Campaign Three, but because they are more heavily featured in Campaign One, they should be nominated there.

c) If the characters are from a miniseries (Exandria Unlimited, for example) and are also seen within a main campaign, go with the one where they have more screen time (approximate).  For example, Dorian & Fearne and Fearne/Opal are pairings that have interacted in both Campaign 3 and Exandria Unlimited, but Dorian & Fearne would be Campaign Three, while Fearne/Opal would be Exandria Unlimited.

d) If the characters feature in different campaigns and haven't interacted or you're not sure if they've interacted, nominate them within Critical Crossovers.

Use your best judgement, you're not going to be yelled at for getting it wrong.

Are platonic relationships allowed?

Yes! Platonic relationships are allowed and encouraged, and this includes platonic versions of the disallowed romantic relationships. If the platonic relationship has more than 500 fics, though, it also falls outside the guidelines for this exchange.

What relationships are not included?

This year, in 2025, the list is as follows:

Keyleth/Vax'ildan Kima/Allura Percy/Vex'halia Percy/Vax'ildan Vax'ildan & Vex'ahlia Beauregard Lionett/Yasha Nydoorin Beauregard Lionett & Caleb Widogast Essek Theylss/Caleb Widogast Fjord Stone/Caleb Widogast Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast Jester Lavorre/Fjord Stone Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast Nott & Caleb Widogast Yasha Nydoorin & Mollymauk Tealeaf Laudna/Imogen Temult Laudna & Imogen Temult Orym/Dorian Storm

Is everything else included?

All relationships where all of the characters involved originate from Exandria (or Ruidis) count. Note that this does not include RPF.

What does it mean for a relationship to not be included? Does that mean that Yasha can’t ever refer to her wife or Vex and Percy can’t ever have a conversation about their kids?

The relationships above aren’t eligible to be included in the nominations, which means that people can’t sign up to have them be the focus of a work. Other relationships can be depicted (unless they are specifically listed in the DNW list), but the requested relationship should be the focus.

[artandbeauty71]

(Long post ahead)

"He's half of my soul, as the poets say" this, "Name one hero who was happy" that...

But like, can we talk about how beautifully tragic and tragically beautiful some of the original quotes from the Iliad are too?? And these are not even all of them!

"Oh, how I wish that neither the Trojans nor the Achaeans could escape death! If only the two of us survived, so that we could bring down the sacred walls of Troy together, the two of us alone..."

"But his mother hadn't told him about the tragic event yet; he wasn't still aware that the most beloved [philtatos] of all his comrades had died."

"As Achilles heard those words [about Patroclus' death], a dark, deadly cloud of anguish engulfed him; with both hands he grabbed plenty of dust from the earth, letting it fall upon his head and smear his marvelous face and clothes. He flopped down onto the ground, disfiguring his body with his hands, tearing the locks of hair out of his head. [...]

Meanwhile, Antilochus sobbed and cried silently, holding tightly still the hands of weeping Achilles, preventing him from grabbing a blade and slicing his own throat.

He let out a heart-wrenching cry, so loud that his mother heard him from the bottom of the ocean."

"What sweetness, what kind of relief is left for me, if my dear Patroclus is no more, him whom I cherished more than all my comrades, whom I valued as my own life, loved as my own soul? I have lost him. [...] And now I shall go find that killer [Hector], the man who deprived me of my dear life."

"She found her beloved son laying down with his arms wrapped around Patroclus' body, crying bitterly. And so did many other companions weep around him."

"You shall all die a bitter death by my hand, each one of you shall pay for what you did to Patroclus, killing him by the ships while I was not there."

"But I will never forget Patroclus, not as long as I live, not as long as I'm steady on my limbs. And even in death, in the realm of Hades where the dead are forgotten, the memory of my beloved comrade will live for all eternity."

[Patroclus' ghost appears to Achilles in a dream]

"You're sleeping, Achilles: have you forgotten about me? You cherished me while I was alive; are you going to neglect me now that I'm dead? [...] Give me your hand, I beg you. For once my body is properly burned, I shall no more come back from the realm of Hades. No more shall we take sweet counsel as we did when I was alive, the two of us alone, away from our comrades. A terrible Fate has caught me, one I was predestined to since birth, and it will soon be your turn to fulfill your destiny, and die by the walls of Troy. So I am asking just one more thing of you, I beg you, grant my wish: don't let my bones be separated from yours, Achilles. Let them rest together, just as we grew up together in your house [...] I would like one single urn to bring together my ashes and yours; the golden urn your mother gave you."

[And Achilles replies]

"Why, my beloved soul, have you come to me, why are you giving me such orders? Of course, I'll obey, I will do everything you wish. But now, come here, come closer to me. Let me hold you: and let us forget about our sorrows by holding each other, at least for a short while.

Thus he spoke, and immediately tried to reach out to him: but he couldn't. The soul slipped away from his grasp, screeching and disappearing back inside the earth, dissolving into smoke. Achilles' hands clasped involuntarily, and he stood up, full of surprise and pain. He felt the urge to cry again."

(I did my best, personally translating the quotes from the original Greek text like the literature noob I am lol. bye I'm going to cry again in peace now)

[muletia]

✧˖° 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

mer!optimus x human!reader

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

word count: 3000

Subconsciously, you know that deep within the forest, the siren has no chance of catching you. Maybe you’re not exactly a skilled runner, and your stamina could definitely use some work, but you’re aware that his massive body would never be able to force its way through the thicket, and the dryness and unevenness of the terrain would prevent him from maneuvering deftly among rocks and fallen trunks. You caught a glimpse of sparks of intelligence in his eyes, so you believe that even if hunger gnawed at him as much as, or even more than, it did at you, he would not risk dying from suffocation on land. You know that. Or at least you hope so.

Then why are you still running, even though you’re already far from the lagoon? Your tired legs, begging for rest against your will, are pushing you closer to the beach, towards something safer and relatively familiar, bit by pitiful chirps and howls from the creature. They remind you of his presence, refusing to let you forget or allow yourself even a moment of rest, which would mean lowering your guard. Even though they’re only echoes now, remnants of a close encounter, they keep urging you to stay alert, to keep running forward, ignoring your burning calves and lungs screaming for air.

You don’t slow down even when you catch sight of the familiar beach, forcing your legs into a few more strides until your sneakers meet the water, once again soaking through and drenching your socks. Only then are you shaken from your trance. The unpleasantness of wet shoes dethrones the reign of the escape mechanism, because you finally feel like you can think about something, anything, other than saving your skin. Your horizon widens by several dozen degrees because suddenly you realize that, during the entire escape, you only saw what was directly ahead of you, as if someone had strapped blinders to the sides of your head.

All at once, you see the uneven, large, flat rocks embedded in the shallows. The whole runway of the beach, lone clouds sailing across their own ocean, the palm leaves of a tree growing surprisingly close to the sea. You realize you’re not exactly where the ocean originally spat you out, but fortunately, it’s still your beach.

Your beach, you think cynically. Never mind that nothing here was yours, that none of it belonged to you, and you shouldn’t grow familiar with a place you were only passing through — now you’re almost certain that this whole island belongs to him.

But right now, you’re safe. Relatively, but safe, you convince yourself. Soon you’ll eat some papayas, crack open a coconut, and for what little remains of the day, you’ll scan the horizon for ships or planes. And then you’ll go to sleep. Mhm, that’s exactly what you’ll do. You have to, if you want to go home.

The wave washes over your sneakers again, like an unwelcome guest pushing its way inside and dragging your socks along into its soggy party. It’s an awful feeling, deeply unpleasant, and you sincerely wish you could just trudge back to dry sand. You know you have to return to the spot where you left the life vest. A place slightly familiar by now, one that couldn’t surprise you.

So why the hell can’t you move?

Your trembling legs are still begging to be released from service, craving just a moment of respite after such an enormous effort. You feel your throat burning like it’s set ablaze, and saliva slides down not along moist walls of flesh, but over a grater, physically causing you pain. Every breath hurts, every swallow hurts. Everything hurts. You’re terrified. Sick of this damned island. “I want to go home,” you mouth, not allowing yourself even a small squeak.

The island immediately reminds you that dreaming is a privilege, and whether you like it or not, you have to focus on the here and now.

Again, you hear the siren’s call. Just as pleading and beckoning as before, every note torn with a grief you had never heard from any living creature. The sound bombards you from behind, subtle and not as powerful as it had been back in the lagoon, but still loud enough to spread across the entire island, shattering your illusion of making this beach a safe haven free from sirens.

It’s enough to bring the will back to your legs, because with horror you realize you’re too close to the ocean. His world. His domain. And for your own safety, you have no intention of underestimating his speed in the water, even if his size was comparable to a bus.

Suddenly, the water seems to burn your feet, licking them with living fire. As if the ocean had suddenly heated up to near boiling point, urging you to retreat deeper inland, but ironically, closer to the siren.

The world had apparently decided to make you its personal fool. Probably for that one time you refused to tip a nice, handsome waiter. 

That familiar feeling of an oncoming explosion greets you like an old friend.

At this point, you’ll be lucky if you make it home without hair color akin to molten mirror.

Or if you make it home at all — a negative, sinister little voice murmurs at the back of your mind, and for the first time, you’re willing to believe it.

When another instinctive swallow reminds you just how tragically wrecked your throat is, you finally find the strength to move your legs. You retreat onto dry sand, as close to the green line as you can possibly get. You’re not willing to risk another close encounter, although deep down, you know that if you don’t manage to start a fire, another trip for papayas will be unavoidable.

Or more precisely, another encounter with the siren will be unavoidable.

For a moment, your eyes are blinded by the flash of his teeth. Huge fangs and equally long incisors, molars worthy of an apex predator.

But those eyes... intelligent. Thinking. And hungry. Maybe for something more complicated than human flesh, but you really didn’t feel like finding out for exactly what.

But you don’t want to think about that right now. In fact, you would prefer not to think about anything at all, but another wail from the siren, coming from the lagoon, derails your plans. You already know that rest will only come with sleep.

If you manage to fall asleep at all.

Later. That’s a worry for later, you convince yourself. Your growling, empty stomach agrees wholeheartedly.

Recognizing the characteristic tracks of your sneakers in the sand, you know you’ve made it. Awkwardly, making sure not to drop the papayas, you grab the life vest and toss it under a palm tree, one that, for some reason, vegetation had never dared to approach.

You glance at the patch of low grass and sigh heavily.

Your new camp. Not as cozy as the three stone walls in the lagoon, but for sleeping out in the open, you owe a bitter thanks to the siren.

As if sensing your thoughts about him, he once again fills the island with his calling. Still just as sad, just as desperate.

When it comes to desperation, you aren’t so different from him. He has his reasons, incomprehensible to you (and better left that way), and you have yours, driven by hunger and thirst. And that same desperation forces you to hurl a papaya with all your might against the trunk of the palm tree. The ripe fruit bursts and splatters, breaking into smaller pieces, quickly followed by another when you repeat the motion.

Hunger doesn’t even allow you to think about dignity. The gnawing in your stomach demands food, and you answer its call. You sit beneath the palm tree, leaning your back against a part not stained with red juice, and scoop out the pulp with your fingers, occasionally brushing off the sticky sand. But even the hard grains crunching between your teeth can’t take away the relief of filling your stomach with something edible. For a moment, you truly feel like you’re eating a five-star meal, the most delicious dish prepared just for you by the world’s finest chef.

For a moment, as you gobble up sand-coated papaya, you allow yourself to feel good. You see no point in pretending everything is fine, but you feel good. The fruit has sated your hunger and somewhat quenched your thirst, although you wouldn’t say no to a glass of water — which now represents the new definition of luxury.

So you move towards a coconut, one of many lying in the sand, and just like with the papaya, you throw it against the tree trunk, since the stones lounging peacefully in the shallows, are too far away for you to dare approach.

You manage to crack the shell open on your third attempt. And just as you greedily drink the remaining water, finally, finally! quenching the fire in your throat and turning the grater back into flesh, the siren calls out again.

You know that this howl, reminding you all too much of a lonely dog's wail, will accompany you throughout your entire stay on the island, sincerely doubting that in any other part of it you will be free from the siren’s song. You are condemned to it, and he is condemned to the memory of you.

You rest your head against the palm tree and fix your gaze on the horizon of the calm ocean, having nothing better to do.

When the siren once again pierces the air with his song, you catch yourself hatching something akin to pity for him. ###

The sun shifted lower, agonizingly slowly, crawling along the horizon at a shy pace. The sunset was slowly coming to an end. During those few hours of staring blankly ahead, you hadn’t spotted even a single ship slipping across the flat skyline, and the only plane that trespassed across a sliver of the sky flew far too high to notice a tiny castaway on a large island.

After all the energy you had spent and all the stress you had endured, you were convinced that the feeling of uncertainty for your life would cling to your every thought and move like a ball and chain.

You hadn’t expected, however, that you could feel... boredom. The siren had called out a few more times before his cries fell silent, giving you the false impression, just like at the beginning of your little castaway adventure, that the only thing you had to worry about was food and water. Not about a several-ton sea monster with a craving for human flesh.

"At least the sunset here is pretty," you sigh. For some reason, you wonder whether the siren is also admiring the sunset from his lagoon, and you almost burst out laughing.

You shouldn't care at all.

But it doesn't change the fact that you wonder why it has gotten so quiet. Has he grown tired of calling out for a toothpick? Maybe he finally realized that playing on your sympathy was pointless? After all, you hadn’t returned to the lagoon, no matter how pathetic his song was. You hadn’t been fooled, so he lost interest.

No matter what his motives were, you didn’t care. Curiosity wasn’t eating you alive, unlike what might happen if you tried to get closer to him.

No, your situation was dire, but survival remained your priority. Not pondering the intentions of a siren monster, nor trying to figure them out.

Continuing the battle for your life, you finally move after sitting for several hours and set off to find another coconut. Their juice was... drinkable, but it poorly quenched your thirst, which was starting to worry you. You hadn’t seen many coconuts scattered along the beach, and judging by the speed at which your throat began demanding water again, you suspected you might plow through all your supplies by tomorrow.

"I have to find drinking water" you say out loud.

Too bad that venturing deeper into the island reduced your chances of spotting a rescue team or a passing ship. And after today’s discovery of the lagoon, you weren’t keen on exploring any more of the island. Who knows what other mythical creatures you might find? Nagas? Harpies? Oh no, you would much rather stick to this strip of beach.

You spot your next victim (a coconut) in the green part of the island, near the barrier of bushes and leaves. But before you can even grab the fruit, the familiar sound of a large body moving towards the shore tears you away from the pressing need to quench your thirst.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh fuck!

Panicking, you frantically look around for a hiding spot, then hurl yourself into the nearest bushes, dropping flat onto your stomach. Fear paralyzes you, stealing your ability to draw air into your lungs, as you wait for whatever is about to happen, praying the siren won’t notice you hidden among the foliage.

The creature emerges from the water, dragging itself over the sand deeper onto the island. Straight towards you. It ventures far, too far for your wildly beating heart’s liking, but the siren spares you a heart attack by keeping most of his tail submerged.

And as if the sight of a mythical creature mere meters from you wasn’t enough, equally astonishing and majestic, your attention is captured by something held in his jaws... a fish. Comically small compared to such a gigantic creature, but the sight of a dead fish, regardless of size, would have left you equally dumbfounded.

What did he want with that fish? Was he trying to show you what a great predator he was? you think, panic washing up your spine in a series of chills. And you hate yourself for it being your first thought, but you couldn’t interpret it any other way.

Hey, see this fish? Now imagine you in its place.

The siren shocks you even more by shifting the fish into his webbed hand, now glancing around, searching.

For you. He's looking for me — you think. He wants to eat me, devour me, I knew he was a man-eater, I knew it, and as soon as he catches my scent I'm screwed, it's over, I don't stand a chance, I'll die on this island, this damn island...

The siren lets out a few soft chirps, carrying the same intonation you heard in the lagoon, and waits, scanning the surroundings again before repeating the brief concert. Each successive chirp sounds more desperate, more sorrowful, but they all share one thing — hope.

The keen azure eyes carefully study the thicket, sometimes lingering too long on one spot. You nearly shit yourself thinking he might have spotted your hiding place. Through the gaps in the leaves, he might notice the unnatural color of your clothes among the greens, but you mentally breathe a sigh of relief when he moves on.

Good. Maybe you’ll live another day.

In a heartbeat, the face full of hope crumbles under the weight of realization that he hasn’t found you. The siren offers a final serenade, a few pleading clicks, so raw, that once again, you feel your heart thumping the beat of pity and sorrow for this creature.

Maybe... maybe he isn’t trying to eat me? the emotional part of your soul suggests — the part that makes you human. Because would a creature hunting for a meal look so... withered when failing to find you? Wouldn’t it be furious and aggressive, dropping the mask of a sad puppy?

The siren sweeps his gaze across the beach one last time, giving himself one final hope, which pops like a bubble when he doesn’t spot you. A sad, pitiful click escapes his grey lips, and the creature lowers his eyes, realizing he has failed. He places the fish back between his teeth and gracefully retreats into the ocean, terrifying you with the speed at which he vanishes beneath the waves and how well he stays hidden beneath the surface.

You know the coast is clear. You could go back to the sand and get to work on another coconut, but it feels like a massive stone has crushed you into the earth, rendering you completely motionless. The only thing you can muster is to roll onto your back so you can stare at the sky. Any other movement is beyond you.

That face... that sad yet hopeful face. You can’t get it out of your mind, and the worst part is that it becomes even more vivid when you close your eyes.

What could trouble such a powerful being? What could a god worry about?

For a moment, it feels like the answer is simple, that you’ve solved some difficult puzzle and figured him out without knowing anything about him. Because what else could the only creature on a deserted island suffer from, if not loneliness?

But you don’t want to believe yourself. There could easily be more of them scattered around the island, just waiting for you to stumble into their territory. A little toothpick, perfect for a snack.

The chorus of insects is interrupted by your stomach growling, but you don’t get up to fetch the coconut. Exhausted, stressed.

Alone.

"I want to go home," you say, and your voice breaks again and again.

Your throat tightens, as if a noose were tightening around it, until you finally stop fighting yourself.

Sobs wrack your body until sleep finally wins, wrapping you in a comforting illusion that everything is okay.

[thatrandomlemononyourcounter1]

let's seeeeeee (idk whether these opinions are going to be unpopular or not)

my main problem with basically all of the characters in this series is that they all have so much potential but since there's too many of them, none of them get to be explored

I never disliked Oralie

Alden isn't a bad person or father and he's really just a dude trying his best

Keefe should've been kept as a side character

Half the guys who had a crush on Sophie should not have had a crush on her (I.E. Dex, that one random dude from book 1, etc)

Lowkey I feel like Sophie and Tam would've been a better ship than Sophie and Keefe, but ya'll may not be ready for that conversation

Shannon turning half the girl characters into "girl bosses" did nothing but bad things for the series

I'm pretty sure this is a mostly popular opinion but adding Gisela as a villain quite literally did nothing for the series

Fintan should've stayed the main villain

Wylie is probably the most underused character (I have SO many thoughts on this please ask me about them)

Absolutely feel like at this point we have forgotten the plot because half of the original plot points have been lost at this point

Most of the playlists for characters are wrong (/silly)

I want y’all’s most unpopular kotlc opinions and I mean UNPOPULAR- like to the point that people will be deleting paragraphs after they remember everyone’s entitled to their own opinions kind of unpopular

Personally *takes deep breath* I don't like the Stellarlune cover 😔

[leohtttbriar]

i know that uhura’s role in tos was written to be like a radioman (the guy in wwii movies who carries the phone on his back sometimes) meaning that the “communications officer” role evolved from radioman to linguist in the time since tos aired. but that makes uhura in tos really interesting with a retrospective read of her character, applying things novels and later iterations of her have fleshed out, because she doesn’t do any visible linguistic work in any tos episode. she does security and navigation and piloting and engineering which sort of makes her seem like a valuably flexible sort of many-skilled officer.

it was probably both enterprise with hoshi and the 2009 movie that really cemented the idea of “communications officer means linguist or at the very least polyglot” instead of it just being an uhura-quirk. uhura in the 2009 movie does a lot of engineering/operating work of comm equipment and is implied to speak a lot of languages on top of be able to interpret subspace “noise,” so to speak (like, there’s no way it’s radio. it can’t be radio. star trek takes place across distances of lightyears—when they say “signal,” i’m assuming it’s not radio). and of course strange new worlds has run with the linguistics angle and made it even more explicit that yes she studies linguistics, linguistics is a core part of starfleet academic infrastructure, to the point where whole episode plots are written around the act of translation.

the retrospective addition of this expertise to uhura makes what she is in tos a character even more focused on leadership and, idk, becoming something like a captain, because she doesn’t seem all that specialized. she’s more of a kirk-like character, or janeway or sisko, characters that have a specialized skill but have set it aside mostly to pursue some sort of command. obviously this wasn’t the intention of her character. writers of uhura have mostly just stumbled on the idea of her as a polyglot (according to wikipedia, first introduced in the novel uhura’s song, so) and been like “neat idea! makes sense! explorers need to learn languages!” and kept doubling down on that idea until we get to an origin-story uhura in snw that (wildly) speaks 37 languages, for whatever definition of speak or language, i guess.

what all this overthinking on my part has generated is this idea of uhura very much like a futuristic-captain aubrey or a captain sisko not nailed down to one station, hanging off the shrouds of a solar-sail ship’s rigging, looking beyond, in the most romantic and idealized version of an explorer. i think a lot of people read/write female characters as being more down-to-earth than the whimsical leader-on-the-sea or more nurturing than than the hardened captain-of-a-ship, partly why janeway and burnham are so wonderful to me. but it’s fun to imagine tos uhura being the exploring-captain archetype, amongst the political structures of the 60s. like the additions to her character over the years have solidified that romantic adventurer portrait of her in tos, when the idea of her in command would be the least welcome.

and the fact that she was shown to be excited about a solar sailing ship in snw, like sisko was in ds9 for that one episode, i think emphasizes this read of her—and that her character-journey in snw is going to be how she goes from bookish linguist to “hanging-on-a-shroud-on-a-sunsail-ship” looking out to “sea”.

[scarycatipillar]

my favourite part of red valley is the reoccurring theme of “once you make it here you never leave for good”

the infamous examples are aubrey, warren and gordon. aubrey was the first scientist to enter the valley after the new development team was chosen, she was the one who stuck it out the longest, she stayed when ben and bryony left her with the final Teddy Bear, she escaped from the people trying to take her away from the valley and ran straight back, she led a terrorist militia to take down the tech they created in that valley and then spent years re-vamping the station to make it a welcoming community for all who want saftey. she stayed

warren and gordon entered together. gordon didnt want to go in at all, he wanted to get into his car and drive the other direction, but instead he followed warren. and then he waited for warren. and then he was stuck there with warren for 44 years. they stayed

people don’t tend to talk about the other examples tho, like the original scientists. the original scientists that worked on cryotech would re-use their own staff as test subjects, they never left because they didn’t get the chance.

but we also have our current timeline, a world of uncertainty on wether our protagonists are gonna be able to leave, which is a subject which has been much alluded to but let’s also think of all those who Completed, they were used to ‘grit the path’, they stayed

bryony has already been shipped back and i think it’s fate that clive and pam end up there too.

this pattern is either kworrying or optimistic, what if this chain is broken and for the first time in the history of the valley people finally leave for good

what if the pattern is a vicious cycle and no-one who ever stepped foot into red valley gets to leave without dying under the shadow of beinbagg

[raayllum]

I've never been quite so fond of Callum and Rayla as a ship because there are some glaring issues with them that I really can't seem to look past, but recently upon rewatch, I have been seeing the potential in Claudium. They have a really interesting dynamic that turns from childhood friends into tragedy and I think its really well written.

What is your opinion of Callum and Claudia as a couple?

First off thanks for dropping this in my inbox! Always love hearing and talking about alternative ship perspectives esp in a civil / interesting manner!

Callum and Claudia have always had one of the most interesting 'background' dynamics in the series to me. On a narrative level, TDP is particularly their coming-of-age story working narratively in parallel as two mages, with Claudia being Callum's lancer/deuteragonist from a magic system lens (Rayla is that for him In General), and it's accordingly very fun. By proxy, this naturally lends a fertile ground for a lot of dynamic exploration for them, including but not limited to shipping! I've always been very fond of them eventually working together (however reluctantly) on future magical related projects and being appreciative (again, however reluctantly) of being around someone who gets/loves magic the way they do.

When it comes to Callum/Claudia meta, I've written meta about them before even if I don't necessarily 'ship' them. I think even in a world without the assassin mission they would've inevitably ripped each other apart at the seams, but sometimes you want a ship/dynamic for the Mess, y'know? And, tbh, I rarely enjoy ships from a 'purely shippy' standpoint — for any kind of ship to grab me, there has to be strong character work / thematic stuff going on — so how I write Claudium meta is not fundamentally different from how I write meta about anything I actually do ship.

The bulk of this stuff was written in arc 1 where they were prominent, and does occasionally loop Rayla in on account of her foil dynamic to Claudia (particularly during S2).

Callum x Claudia tag (lots of parallels, framing, smaller thoughts from myself and others, etc)

Where can I put it down? (the Callum, Claudia, Rayla foils dynamic tag)

You Already Did :: A Callum/Claudia Meta (s1-s3)

Aaravos and Rayla as Callum’s Two Paths (+ S2 Claudia)

That said, here's the meta that was originally meant to be quick. Let's go:

1) Callum and Claudia are this very interesting mix of simultaneously seemingly knowing each other very well thanks to their similarities — they're both fascinated by magic, care deeply about their brothers, regulate themselves to caretaker roles but can also steamroll others, are incredibly loyal / loving, have penchants for unnecessary violence — and not knowing each other at all. I think this is more because of the Box(es) they've put each other in, respectively.

For Claudia, she sees Callum as someone who's a little naive (assuming she knows better in early S2 about the mission vs Zym stuff), someone she can somewhat take for granted (using him, somewhat leaning on his feelings), and assumes he'll be more forgiving towards her than he actually is (what was her plan post-kidnapping? That they'd kill Rayla, drag them home, and the boys — Soren / her father in later seasons — would inevitably see 'sense', i.e. see things her way, and forgive her / think she was right all along).

It'd be very easy, then, to look at Callum's big crush on her in the first two seasons and assume he holds her in higher regard than she holds him. He's crushing and blushing and defending her, after all. However, the main reason I've never totally shipped them is because of how Callum treats/views her in S1/S2. Even in 1x03 in the dungeons, or especially in early s2 when he has no reason to doubt her — she told him the truth, she gave him back the letter, she hasn't knowingly done anything to him — Callum never actually trusts her when it matters.

He agrees with Rayla's plan in 2x03 because he knows, somewhere deep down, Claudia betraying him is not out of the question, nor does he ever trust her with his Most Important Person (Ezran, which is later expanded to include Rayla), and if you wanna get to Callum in any significant way esp in the early seasons, you gotta get to him through that foundational bond. I've said it before and I'll say it again that, for him and Ezran (as Rayla was a neutral/negative party who didn't have any kind of real bond with Claudia or Soren at all), the illusion plan is actually pretty Mean if the mage fam siblings had been genuine.

What this tells us, then, is that Callum and Claudia pre-series think they're close... but they're not actually. Claudia rarely talks about her emotional problems to anyone until Terry, and Callum wasn't going to go to her because of his crush. There's a lack of a strong emotional bond, and I think that's one of the main reasons they fall apart so quickly when significant changes start happening. They both have strong senses of loyalty, but that loyalty was never ever towards each other... and that's fascinating, tbh.

2) Some of the inherent tension for Callum and Claudia I think, therefore, is the interplay they both have with Identity as a theme.

Callum has the first stages of an identity arc in arc 1, but it's far simpler and less demanding. He uses royal titles and systems as a way to distance himself within his own family — "Why don't you just call him Dad?" "Because he's the king. And I'm his stepson" — and finds meaning in becoming primal mage, a path both Claudia and Rayla have a hand in setting him on. Claudia, alternatively, doesn't really have an identity theme; part of it is that she's not super self-reflective, and the other half is that she's stapled her sense of self onto Viren so hard that there's not really any room for anything else.

Season 4 immediately kicks them both in the back of the knees and doesn't look back. One of my favourite things about S4 was the season explored how the timeskip took their arc 1 identity pillars — for Callum, it was Rayla (becoming a mage, becoming more confident, having a confidant/peer for the first time, etc); for Claudia, it was Viren (presumably self-explanatory) — and then shoved them together into messy reunions of "the separation changed you fundamentally, and now you're spiralling".

Prior to Rayla leaving, Callum was talkative and very open about all of his feelings; prior to Viren's death, Claudia was far more passively following her father's plans and ideas. But when — after a two year separation caused by perpetuating the cycle (Rayla and her self-described obsessive revenge, Viren and his grab for power) — comes to a close... the Callum and Claudia they find are the opposite, and Rayla and Viren have both very much changed, too, all of which makes reconnecting / doing relationship repair harder for everyone involved. For more on the parallels/character work between these four in S4, check out this meta; it's still one of my favourites.

Cue Rayla and Viren getting better (in some ways), and Callum and Claudia getting worse (in some ways) comparatively as they're drawn deeper into Aaravos' machinations.

What this does, then, is set Callum and Claudia (+ Rayla and Viren) in a sprawling identity arc throughout the seasons. Rayla and Claudia continue to prominently parallel each other (both refuse to kill their High Mage of Katolis / let him die in S4, for ex) as Callum and Viren continue to parallel each other. Callum's main reaffirmations of his sense of identity is his brother and Rayla, whereas Claudia's arguably takes an unexpected distraction: as Terry and Viren become concerned with reaffirming their own sense of identity amidst actions of violence that threaten to change them for the worst, and Soren's arc 1 certainty is smashed into pieces in his bond with his sister... Aaravos and Callum become the main pillars Claudia's identity theme bounces off of, even if Callum doesn't pay her assessments of him much mind.

Unlike Soren, Terry, even Ezran... all people who loved and knew her (as again, Rayla had no prior bond to break) Callum has zero qualms about hurting Claudia, nor has he ever, tbh (just look at the venom in his eyes in 2x07). What we get on his end, then, is that rather than be doubtful because of past love (Soren) or being unsure of how she's gotten here (Viren: "My sweet girl... what happened to you?"), Callum is completely certain, recognizing Claudia explicitly through her capacity for violence... and her repeatedly bringing out his capacity for his own (i.e. him making sure she looks him in the eye before he leaves her to drown in 5x09). He didn't have to use the blood freezing torture spell on her, after all, but he comes out of the gate swinging with it.

What this creates, then, is a question: is the way Callum sees Claudia more accurate than the way other people see her? Is the way Claudia sees him — "I don't hate you, I don't want you dead" — real, or just a way for Claudia to still believe that she's a good person? And if it is real, is there any instance wherein Callum would believe that it is?

The irony is, of course, is that Callum and Claudia are growing increasingly similar in their methods and in their responses — while both are unaware and despairing at least a little over just how much they've changed, and could continue to. They're the embodiment of "Let's judge and criticize things other humans do, and then do the exact same thing ourselves!" Because, as they've said many times:

3) I would do anything for you.

Mages in TDP are fixers. Magic, after all, gives you the power to fix your situation in some manner. To feed, to heal, to protect, to revive. When faced with potentially losing or being unable to help someone they love in season 2, Callum and Claudia both turn to dark magic as a solution. For Callum, he convinces himself it's a one-off, but I'd always believed otherwise, lol.

Now, the mindsets both approach dark magic with is very different. It's only in arc 2 that Claudia begins to be aware of the cost ("You think I've done some awful things, and I have") but it's a price she continually chooses to pay, anyway. In some ways, this is closer to Callum's mindset regarding dark magic throughout ("It was easy. Too easy. Even though I know it's wrong"). So why do something you know/believe is bad? Simply that the ends justify, or outweigh, the means.

The fun part is that this parallel is set up all the way back in 1x02, wherein Callum inspires Claudia to think of the switching spell ("I'd switch places in a second") that rips Harrow and Viren apart. Callum then embodies the spell concept more earnestly in taking Ezran's place, just as Claudia doesn't understand why Harrow would be uncomfortable with someone laying their life down for him so directly if it means he'd live (cue her bafflement and anger when Viren strolls in with the same reservations in 6x01). If I can lay myself down for you, if I can save you — even if you don't want me to — why wouldn't I?

They both say "I would do anything for you" and mean it. It's devotion to the point of destruction. They're willing to sacrifice everything — their bodies, lives, senses of self — if it means the people they love will be okay.

Nothing is too much to ask. After all, Callum knew Ez had the Nova Blade in 7x09, so he didn't have to carry on with the coin spell, but if it didn't, everyone in the immediate vicinity would die, and he wasn't about to lose Rayla or Ezran especially if the only cost was himself.

What this means, though, is that Callum and Claudia are both willing to steamroll over others to secure what they think is best. Callum is usually more well-intentioned about it (when he stays behind in the Bookery, it very much is for Rayla, whereas Claudia wanting to heal Soren is for him yes, but also because she can't handle it and doesn't want to acknowledge what he said about their dad) even if there tends to be worse consequences (almost dying at said Great Bookery), but they both do it (Claudia ignoring Viren's change of heart in 4x02, etc).

A good chunk of this is because they are very solution focused. If there's a problem, and they see an answer, they will hyper focus on getting to that answer by any means necessary, even if it means disregarding their own physical wellbeing or others' (Claudia in s5 with her own, Terry in s6 and s7; Callum in s2/3/7 with his own, s5 with Domina Profundis). This is also why Callum makes the choices he does in 7x02 (bigger meta on that here since I'd predicted something similar happening uh, a week post-S3 and Callum making those choices post-S5 lmao): Ezran was having big emotional problems he couldn't solve, Rayla had an emotional turned physical problem that could be readily solved, so he tunnel visions and goes for the one he can solve. (The fact that Ez had a support system and Rayla didn't + Rayla also offered to turn against/fight her people to save his dad when they first met also factored in tbh.)

RAYLA: It hurts me to know they're trapped like this. It's agonizing. But I know our mission comes first. [...] CALLUM: Rayla, we can help them. We can undo this spell. (5x04)

CLAUDIA: Wouldn't you both do the same if you had a chance to save your Dad? To bring back King Harrow? I would even help you. (5x09)

If Callum or Claudia have picked your problem as One To Solve, they will see it through to the end; if they haven't, or don't even compute something as a problem, good fucking luck getting them to care, tbh. Claudia and Callum stapling someone else's wellbeing onto their own ("Why are you doing this?") is just what they do, even if that means someone else's sliding by well, the wayside (Terry, Ezran) because again: who's in their way? Who's problem can they actually fix?

This does mean that sometimes there can be collateral damage if they've decided hurting you doesn't matter, to the point we've both seen them willing to inflict unnecessary physical pain on other people.

They also as of the end of S7 have inverted hair — Callum's mostly dark hair with his white streak, Claudia's hair mostly white with a few black streaks left — which is an absolute treat from a foils and narrative standpoint, lemme tell you. I can't wait to see what fucked up shit they do in arc 3.

But now for what I think I've been dancing around long enough as a semi-closing note:

4) You can't really talk about Claudia and Callum without talking about Rayla... but because of Raydia, not Rayllum.

Rayla and Claudia are foils, and they always have been.

They enter the story similarly as antagonists — dark mages and assassins have similar story purposes within TDP, after all, being willing to sacrifice themselves and others for what they deem important enough ("so I could carry out my dark work" / "I have work to do") — but where Rayla immediately breaks from her father's orders, Claudia clings steadfastly to them. They offer drinks to their travelling companions (1x04), grapple with what to do with Callum (2x02—2x03), work to save their fathers while being submerged in water (5x09, 6x09), abandon their boyfriends (Rayla to protect him, and Claudia to protect herself), and as Claudia's hair becomes white, she physically looks more like Rayla as well.

But where Claudia is a mage — a fixer in mindset, willing to discard her heart to follow her mind and sacrifice others — Rayla is primarily guided by her big heart and willing to sacrifice what she finds important — her family, Callum — as well as herself. Claudia (like Callum) cares about her loved ones above all else; Rayla cares about everyone else above all else ("My heart for Xadia").

RAYLA: I let him go. I don't know why. EZRAN: Because you felt for him. [...] You saw that he was scared, and you knew he was a person, just like you.

CLAUDIA: You're right. It won't follow us. But not because it's trapped. [Smiles] It won't follow because it's afraid of me.

What this provides then is a clear way at how they're both lancers for Callum within the narrative. A lancer is the primary character contrasted with the main character — if the hero is earnest, the lancer will be snarky; if the hero is nervous, the lancer will be more bold / confident — in order to provide balance and change. When Callum is more passive, unsure, reserved, or feels helpless (1x03, 1x09, 2x03, 2x07, 3x01, 3x09, a good chunk of smaller instances in S4, 5x08, 6x06, 7x02, 7x06) Rayla and her choices or circumstances is often used to prompt (and/or force) him to take action. She's his primary agent of change with the narrative and always has been... but, sometimes, so is Claudia.

After all, Callum's love for Rayla motivates him to move closer to Claudia, not farther away. In 2x02, when his crush is offering to spend more time with him and fix his problem by teaching him dark magic, Callum refuses... but it's his love for Rayla in 2x07 that leads to him picking that book right back up and actually doing it.

CALLUM: I'm sorry. It's just not for me. (2x02)

DARK!CALLUM: It's not about you, is it? If you love her, you'll be the you that can save her. You'll do what you must. However dangerous, however vile. (7x06)

VIREN: If it's love, then nothing else matters. Do what you must. (6x06)

At the same time, Rayla illustrates why Callum and Claudia fell apart. Even when she's made mistakes or lied/left, Callum knows that everything she's ever done has been to protect him and Ezran, and in 7x02 is to protect/save her family. She lays herself and only herself on the line all the way until 7x09, where the conflicting messages of "I sacrifice so Callum doesn't have to" meets "Callum — who always tells me not to sacrifice things — is telling me to sacrifice (him)". These things aren't true of Claudia, who lies to use people (Callum and Ez in S2; Terry in S7) around her with varying degrees of being literal, and her increasingly high body count. Rayla isn't concerned with being a good person (that would require having a stable sense of self that she cares about, which is too much self esteem for her, lmao), but Callum and Claudia are attached to thinking of themselves as good people (and/or potentially in Callum's case, that being synonymous with being someone Rayla 'can love'); Callum is willing to sacrifice it, while Claudia clings to it to her last breath.

Therefore, all three of them have a very interesting interplay with each other on themes of choices and abandonment and TDP's whole thing with sacrifice.

CHOICES: Claudia fears having to choose; Rayla fears making the wrong choice; and Callum fears having no choice at all.

ABANDONMENT: Callum is abandoned but never truly abandons (he might walk away physically but never emotionally); Claudia would always pick to be abandoned rather than abandon (with the exception of 6x01); and Rayla always leaves / is more willing to leave.

Take, for example, Rayla in 4x05 in leaving the drake being what Callum and Ezran were willing to do point blank in 2x07; she's borrowing their selectiveness but chopping off parts of herself in the process, as Callum only went back for the dragon that Claudia was going to dissect because Rayla did so. Callum takes the first half of Claudia's fulminus spell in 1x03, but Rayla helps him complete it in 1x07.

Aaravos' possession chokes/suffocates Callum in 4x04, something that only happens because Callum did dark magic for Rayla with Claudia's book; Rayla chokes in 5x09 going under the water (Callum's Ocean arcanum, Claudia's submergence in Aaravos' literal waves of grief); Claudia chokes/suffocates as well in 5x09 because Callum steals her potion; Claudia then suffocates Callum in 7x07 with the Staff of Ziard by more water he's later going to pick the staff up out of because of his love for Rayla. Claudia gifts Callum the letter that she only has because Rayla kicked it out of his hand, a bad action that likewise delayed him learning more about Aaravos (which is a good thing), only for Claudia to use it as a tool of deception whereas now Rayla is entirely honest... Everything is interrelated; everything is contingent.

Callum chose Rayla because he could trust her with Ezran, and after Claudia scared Ezran, it was over, but that foundation allowed Callum to build a bond with Rayla that could compete/convene with — and under specific instances, be prioritized over — his bond with Ezran (Callum lacking a vengeful bone in his body and having made his peace with Runaan similarly to Zubeia/Avizandum also helped), similarly to way Claudia's bonds with other people have competed and/or taken precedence (Viren and then Aaravos above all else, leaving the boys and her brother and boyfriend by the wayside).

It's not necessarily the healthiest way to live and have relationships — Callum in particular loves in a Very intense way (i.e. if you're not Ez or Rayla, you're on a varying scale of chopped liver to him) — but damn if it's not interesting to watch.

Other Little Callum x Claudia Things / Closing Notes:

Claudium is always more interesting to me from Claudia's POV. In my view she likes him well enough, and doesn't not not like him, but it's not a very strong crush; Callum is comforting and comfortable and it'd increase her status. Her still holding onto not wanting to hurt him is interesting as well since, as discussed, he hasn't. Callum reaching out to Claudia in 4x08 and 7x07 of "stop / you don't have to do this" is especially funny to me because there's little doubt in my mind (especially post-S4) that if she did listen to him, he'd absolutely use it against her and immediately go for the jugular. They hate each other in a way that's not entirely rational, and it's awesome.

Love the fire and water symbolism they have going on, especially with the fight in Akiyu's grotto in 7x07. Claudia increasingly becoming more and more associated with fire throughout the series vs Callum getting more water associations is juicy, particularly considering since she got swallowed up and spat out by the ocean in 5x09 whereas he got an arcanum he'd likewise rather not have.

Callum and Claudia's tendency to knowledge steal from each other — Callum taking her primal stone and her book; Claudia taking his answer to the riddle; the trio stealing the prison, Claudia basically gifting the Staff of Ziard to him an episode after claiming it was hers (more on that here) — is delicious. The fact that map shit came back full circle — "the being will guide you to the one who has answers" "having knowledge doesn't mean knowing knowledge, so it means he has a map" the cube of Aaravos being a literal map that leads to Elarion (which is what I'd always hoped for since S4) — is just the cherry on top.

Can't talk about them without talking about the chain motif, whether it's how they mutually chain each other in 1x03 (Claudia grasping his wrist, Callum fitting an actual chain over hers), the snake chain spell that continually haunts Callum throughout, dark magic as something that promises freedom yet also chains/traps you... Callum and Claudia both using magic in S7 to immobolize / imprison their siblings, but Claudia and Ezran both choose not to kill them, and Callum asserts that he's not giving up on them ("but I'll always be your brother") while Claudia spirals about it ("so you've given up on me?").

And finally personality flaws because hoo boi. Claudia hates feeling judged in any manner (again, very attached to seeing herself as a good person) but canonically thinks that Callum is judgemental on more than one occasion and he absolutely can be. Think of how he should logically trust in 4x01 that Soren wouldn't let anything bad happen to Ezran, but he 100% does not and gets aggressive and intensive anyway. Callum also doesn't like dark magic either (whereas again, Claudia does revel in it and think it's great for a good chunk of arc 1), so while in a world with no assassination he might've become a dark mage alongside her, he would've been a lot more "we shouldn't be doing this" about certain stuff, which would've majorly bothered her, until their or his motivations matched up, wherein he'd go just as far or farther than her, which would also majorly upset her. Basically: I think they're too similar and clash in very particular ways that it'd take massive character development from both of them to work out longterm and to not give up on the relationship. Whoops?

I'd like to write a drabble or oneshot one day where they're both committed to defeating Aaravos (maybe Claudia finds out he killed Viren in 6x08) but the spell required is like... a pretty horrific path that none of their other allies really want to walk, so they do it together while hating each other and angrily bonding the whole time. An interesting way for Claudia to let go of her distaste for him judging her would be to think/realize they're equally fucked up / willing to go that far, and Callum not feeling like he has to hide any of his monstrosity in front of her (because I think that's less of a concern post-S7, but it's still there, even if Rayla would absolutely accept him no matter what it hasn't quite clicked for him yet) and he thinks that'll make him feel better, but it doesn't anyway because he doesn't really want to Be this, either. Neither of them do, but... hand in unloveable hand, I suppose.

Because again: I love the mess.

[phantomirage]

Since I see that what I'm best at is criticizing KNY characters, I'm going to say something that I have to say, but I haven't seen anyone say it...

The couple of Tanjiro and Kanao is very poorly done (IN MY OPINION!)

let me tell you why I think this...

First of all, it was because it was very random, I mean, this was born because of the misogynistic and disgusting thing that Kanae said to Kanao

Furthermore, they realize that if Kanao could not make decisions about things, I think she would be even less able to decide who she likes or not

Also, Tanjiro doesn't even seem to show any interest in Kanao, and not even enough to be her friend, he seems to see Kanao more as a rival to be defeated or just as an acquaintance than as a possible friend

In my opinion, Tanjiro showed better chemistry with Genya or Muichiro than with Kanao...

I think the problem with Tankana is similar to that of Naruto and Hinata (be careful, I haven't seen the anime yet, but most fans agree that Naruto and Sasuke looked better together)

The problem is that in most of these types of works, the protagonist's love interest is given a very passive role with little impact on the protagonist

and it really shocks me/I find it curious how they prefer to include original scenes of Tanjiro spending time with Aoi or Muichiro (yeah,that's it, feed my ship)

Well, that's my opinion on the matter. Personally, I think all the main trio ships are somewhat bad, but each one for totally different reasons...If you have something to say about it, say it. And if you have something to say to contribute why you think Tankana is a bad couple, don't hesitate to tell me (JUST BE KIND!)

If you want me to talk more about why I consider other couples to be bad or poorly made, let me know

(I've already talked a little about this with @misty-memories09 but I had to say it because no one talks about this and it seems strange to me that no one says that the fact that the main couple is born from something that is almost a trauma...)