#will actually be a large part of this fic

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

I love the way you write Logan, it's so comforting! Can't wait to see more of your work, it's lovely💗

Idk if this would be your thing so feel free to ignore obviously!

How do you think Logan's dynamic would be with a reader having intense intimacy issues, to the point where they struggle to even think about doing anything more than make out with him? I really haven't found any fic like that and I think that you would a concept like that more than justice

I do see him having some intimacy issues himself (traumatized wet cat💀)

this is so sweet, thank you so much! My brain immediately supplied a list of head canons, I hope that you enjoy <3

~ So I am thinking about Logan from the original trilogy for these in particular ~ He definitely has some intimacy issues, more so on the emotional intimacy side than physical intimacy ~That is, until he meets you. You're a professor at the school, and while he can tell you love the young mutants with a large part of your heart, you remain physically distant from them. When the Youngers ones reach for a hug, you meet them instead with a fist bump or a high five. Never cruel, but always setting your boundary. ~The first time you catch him noticing your habit, you expect him to roll his eyes, or hit you with a judgy side eye. Instead, he quirks his head and resumes what he had previously been doing. ~Eventually, the two of you start spending a lot more time together. He will nudge a cup of coffee your way, and ask after you when you have a headache. He never encroaches on your space, despite being quite touchy with the other faculty.

~You spend a week working up the courage to confront him about it, strategizing the best way to ask for the reassurance you want but have trouble asking for. You expect him to blow you off, but when you knock on his door, he ushers you inside and lets you choose where to sit in the room, choosing his seat to be close enough to show he is invested but far enough away for your comfort. It isn't even a conscious thought for him, it's natural. ~You fumble through your question, doing your best to explain your line of thinking, before eventually just spitting out "do you hate me?" ~He is so shocked that he doesn't know what to say for a few seconds, which only makes your anxiety feel worse. ~He takes a few seconds, collecting his thoughts, and then you can see the typical Logan smirk start sparkling in his eye again. "Sweetheart, it's a little hard to hate the person you're acting a fool over". Your eyes practically bug out of your skull, and he chuckles to himself. He is twitching in his seat, and you can tell he is trying his best to not gather you up in his arms. ~You extend a hand out to him, palm upturned. He takes it instantly. He raises your entwined hands halfway towards his mouth, before meeting your eyes and waiting for your reaction. ~You nod, holding your breath and he drops a kiss on the back of your hand, before adjusting so that he can kiss your palm as well. ~When he hears your heartbeat stutter, he is quick to hold your hand again, resting against his knee. He confirms that you feel the same way, insistent on getting verbal confirmation. Your face feels like it is on fire, but you reply in the affirmative. "We are going to take this as slow as you need. I... I care about you so much, and your comfort always comes before anything else." ~You feel a few tears well up, and he moves to wipe them away as they begin to fall. Again, he pauses before actually making contact with your face, waiting for your gentle nod. ~From that day on, you are even more attached at the hip than before. Logan loves knowing that you are with him for more than his body, and he is constantly making sure that you know how much he values you. ~Overall, I just imagine him being very sweet and understanding and taking it as slow as you need. He is protective of you when you meet new people, often coming in between you and others who are not as considerate as he thinks they should be. Definitely sends his protective instincts into a bit of an overdrive, but you also appreciate having the scary dog privilege when you are out in public as well. People are definitely giving you a wider berth than you are used to. You always feels safe and taken care of with him, which is exactly how he wants it to be

[pseudophan]

i need to be a bitch somewhere and where better than pseudophan dot tumblr dot com (said in a very honoring way love you nora)wait pause i just heard like a squeaky rubber duck noise out my window. im on a 10th floor in nyc. hello? okay anyways i need to keep being a bitch ducks aside but oh my god fics have been so unreadable lately. why is everyone so obsessed with doing like yaoi gender roles to them. i dont think ive opened smut i havent clicked out of in months at this rate. like every single one is like "ohhh phil is a delicate helpless uwu little princess and dan is the big strong manly man" im actually going to start killing people like it is so insufferable why does no one hear themselves. do you people hear yourselves? for real? pause i just heard the duck again. is it an omen do you think

LOVE the journey this ask takes you on first of all, i wonder what the duck's fanfic opinions are it seems eager to share

i haven't read enough fic recently to comment on ALL of them but i can't say i don't get where you're coming from cause a lot of what i have seen... yeah... and look if that's the dynamic someone wants to portray in their fic that's whatever i guess, i'm not here to police people's fiction, but it is annoying that there's so much of it. kinda feels like we're back in 2015 just with the roles reversed

the whole uwu princess phil thing is largely brought on by dnp themselves and i don't even have a problem with that at all, by all means live your precious baby angel smol bean (sigh) dreams phil but what bothers me a little is the part where a lot of people take that and feel the need to then make dan, like you said, some Big Strong Masc Dom Top like can we be sooooo serious for just one second... again if thats what people want to write porn about whatever i guess but i totally agree the sheer amount of it is a bit.......... hmm........

this isn't just fics though it's the way people talk about them in general. at least with fics you're technically allowed to write whatever the hell you want, it's all fictional, but when it's posts talking about their real life selves .... 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[saynomorefic]

On Simon, apologies and healing

One thing I'm having a hard time with in writing YR fic lately: writing fix-its involving justice for Simon, not just related to Wille, but basically to every character that's hurt him (and the list is long). I have no issues getting to the scene, or what I want the outcome to be, but the how it happens has been tripping me up every time. Struggling mostly to make it feel realistic, and getting the other party to verbalize what they've done wrong while staying in character.

I realized that it's largely because we didn't see this happen in canon. Honestly, full stop. While I'm so relieved Simon and Sara made up, a large part of it was him letting go of his hurt over her initially choosing August to comfort her in their shared trauma. (She did acknowledge she felt he was right about Micke and trying to forgive people, which is sadly ironic.) And then, of course, him and Wille's trauma was tied up only by Wille renouncing his title, as though this paves over all the harm done.

I feel like that's why we see so many fics continuing to put Simon in the cycle of pain? Because we're echoing what we saw in canon, therefore writing real resolution and healing for Simon kind of stops at the moment of apology, or glazes over it completely (often times for him and Wille to get back together). I'm absolutely not blaming authors for this! I think we want to give Simon that resolution and healing. That's sort of the point I'm making here, that it's genuinely so hard to write. I wrote a whole AU to get Simon and Wille to have these real conversations, to really reckon with the privilege gap, in part because it didn't even feel possible to try in canon.

Do any other writers struggle with this? How do we get our boy out of the cycle of pain? 🥺

Also feel free to leave recs of Simon-centric fics featuring apologies/ where he gets the opportunity to actually heal. ❣️

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Lucy decides that she and Lizzie need to talk.

Word Count: 5,007

Notes: Warnings for depictions of violence, choking (not the fun kind), pregnancy, and references to abortion.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 20: The Moment of Catastrophe

“I need to talk to Lizzie.” She was standing in front of Tommy’s desk, eyes downcast and fingers picking at one of the little wood carvings of a horse she’d made for him. Tommy’s eyes snapped up to hers from where they had been focused on the papers she’d just deposited in front of him, capping his pen and straightening up.

“You don’t have to–”

“I sort of do. If I’m going to remain involved in all of this.” Involved with you, she added silently. “And it’s killing me not knowing what her actual feelings or intentions regarding me are.”

Tommy frowned, eyes wary. Lucy was pretty sure that the main reason why he hadn’t encouraged a sit-down between the three of them already was because he was worried about what Lizzie might say to her. 

“I’ll go with you.”

But Lucy shook her head. “I think it would be better if she and I talked alone first, actually.”

His frown deepened. “If I’m there, I can act as a buffer if she starts getting unpleasant…”

“Exactly. I need to know how she really feels, Tommy.” Running a hand through her hair, she sighed, well aware that she might be willingly walking into a lion’s den with the full expectation of getting mauled. But she couldn’t keep living in this limbo of sitting around, wondering what Lizzie really thought of her. Of what her intentions were. Everything that her mind kept coming up was horrible. At least this way, she would know for sure and could adjust accordingly. “We’re both adults. We can sit down and have a mature conversation.”

“You might be able to,” Tommy muttered. Lucy gave him a look that was intended to be stern, but failed miserably at hiding the fond amusement underneath.

“Don’t be mean.”

Tommy sighed, thumbs twiddling together before he stood, stepping around the desk to get to her. His large hands smoothed up and down her arms reassuringly. 

“Don’t let her bully you. If she starts being nasty, just leave.”

Lucy nodded. “I’ll walk over to her house after running some errands. I’ll be back before lunch.”

He touched her face, thumb running across her cheek before kissing her, then pulling her into a hug. “I love you.”

Looping her arms around his middle, she squeezed him back, letting her head nestle against his chest. “I love you too. I’ll be back soon.”

He kissed her again before letting her go, hands stuffed into his pockets and watching her grab her coat and go to the door. She offered him what she hoped to be a reassuring smile before stepping out, pulling her cap onto her head. 

The errands she needed to run seemed to pass incredibly quickly, but the walk to Lizzie’s felt as though it took an eternity. It was in a neighborhood similar to where Polly lived, on the outskirts of the city. As she walked, she smoked cigarette after cigarette, anxiety settling like rocks in her stomach. 

She had not been wholly honest about her reasoning for coming to speak with Lizzie. Yes, she did need desperately to know where Lizzie stood on everything–where she stood on her–but that wasn’t all. She supposed that a part of her almost wanted Lizzie to yell at her. To throw things at her head. To tell her that she was a selfish monster for still clinging to Tommy when she knew that if she were gone he and Lizzie could have a chance to actually build something together with their baby. 

Her own mind had been relentlessly pummeling her with those thoughts since Tommy had told her the news; might as well let the person she was actually hurting have a chance to hurl them at her herself. 

Of course there was the other part of her that clung to a small sliver of hope that it wouldn’t be that bad. That Lizzie could actually make peace with their current arrangement. Maybe even be happy to have Lucy around. 

Wishful thinking, that was. Especially that last bit. 

When Lizzie’s house came into view, her hands started to tremble, and she immediately regretted not taking Tommy up on his offer to come with her. He was more or less the only reason she’d managed not to entirely fall apart, or pack up her things and disappear into the night without a word. Without his stabilizing presence beside her, she felt terrifyingly adrift and at the mercy of her own treacherous, tortuous mind.

Her boots clomped against the stone steps, shaking fingers drawing into a fist that she tapped against the wood in a few quick raps. Stuffing her hands into her pockets in an attempt to hide their trembling, she glanced around while she waited, eyes landing on the man kneeling next to a flower bed by the steps leading to the front door. A pair of dirt-lathered gardener’s gloves covered his hands, a spade, trowel, and weeder laid out next to him on the grass. He had a hat pulled over a shaved head. His face was weathered and wrinkled with age, but there was something familiar there that she could not quite place. For a second, their eyes met, and then his gaze immediately dropped back down to the dirt in front of him, working to dig a weed out of the flowerbed. Before Lucy could scrutinize him more, the door opened.   

“Lucy.” Never before had Lizzie’s height seemed so intimidating. Her eyes were cold, jaw set.  

“Hi.” Her smile came out as more of a grimace, fingers coming together unconsciously to play with her rings. Lizzie just stared at her, expression unmovable and chilly as a glacier, mouth pressed into a firm line. Lucy forced her hands to separate, though her fingers still twitched anxiously at her sides, eyes darting around the street. “Can we talk?” 

Lizzie looked as if she found the suggestion just about as desirable as drinking spoiled milk, but after a moment of consideration sighed, and pushed the door open the rest of the way so that Lucy could come inside. 

Lizzie had clearly been hard at work decorating and furnishing the house, rugs already lining the floors, the sitting room adorned with plush couches, chairs, and carved wooden tables. Picture frames were hung up on the walls, little bits and bobs purposefully positioned on the mantle above the fireplace. 

Lizzie shut the door behind her, shoes clicking against the floorboards as she strode past her and into the sitting room. 

“What do you want?”

Off to a great start, then, Lucy thought dejectedly. “I just…thought that we should talk about…things. Just you and me.”

“I’m not getting rid of the baby,” Lizzie said immediately, head tilted up stubbornly, defensiveness straining her voice. “So if that’s what you’ve come to discuss, you might as well leave–”

“That’s not why I’m here.” She tried hard to temper her hurt that Lizzie really thought she’d come all this way just to twist her arm into getting an abortion even if she didn’t want to.

Before either of them could say anymore, there was a knock at the door. 

“For Christ’s sake,” Lizzie growled, stomping past Lucy back to the door and wrenching it open. “What?”

“Begging your pardon, Miss. Stark, but could I use your phone for a moment?” the gardener was standing there, mopping at his brow and ringing his dirty gloves in his hands. “I’d like to ring my wife to let her know I may be a little late getting home this evening.”

“Yes, yes,” Lizzie stepped aside, pointing towards the entryway to the kitchen. “It’s in the back.”

Lucy waited until he had wandered into the other room and she could hear the distant, incomprehensible hum of his voice on the phone before speaking again. “The house looks nice.”

Lizzie smirked. “Tommy paid for it.”

“I know.”

Her smile dropped, and Lucy shifted from foot to foot, aware that she was doing little to help in the mending of things between them. “Can we sit?” she asked, nodding to the couch in the sitting room. Lizzie looked like she’d rather do just about anything else, standing there with her arms crossed over her chest, lips rubbing together. But finally she sighed, arms dropping to her sides. 

“Sure.”

She followed Lizzie’s lead over to the dark green sofa, sinking down into the cushions on the opposite side from her, ample space left between them. Lucy’s hands rang together, unable to stop her fingers from fumbling with her rings. Lizzie’s expectant expression only served to make her more nervous, bubbles of anxiety lodging into her throat and making it hard for her to recall the words she’d been practicing over and over in her head on the walk over there.  

“Right. Look, I just thought…given that we’re going to be…I mean, I just wanted to tell you that, um…now that you’re having Tommy’s baby…I–”

“For fuck’s sake, will you just spit it out?”

She flinched, feeling her shoulders draw in at the way Lizzie snapped at her. Being yelled at or spoken to harshly wasn’t exactly new to her, but there was something about the impatience in Lizzie’s tone that made her feel like a young child being scolded. As if she wasn’t already doing enough damage, here she was, coming into this poor woman’s home and annoying her with nonsensical ramblings. 

Before she could stutter some more and continue to make a complete fool of herself, there was the sound of footsteps approaching from the kitchen. The gardener appeared, pulling his cap on over his bald head, giving a respectful nod to Lizzie.

“Thank you for letting me use your phone, Miss. Stark. I’ll be heading back outside, now.”

“Of course. If you need any water or anything, help yourself,” she waved a hand towards the sink and pantry in the kitchen. The gardener nodded, his eyes tracking to Lucy before quickly looking away, shuffling towards the door. They both waited until it had swung closed behind him before saying anything. 

“Look,” Lucy took a deep breath, managing to pull herself somewhat together. “I just…wanted you to know that I don’t have any intentions of coming between Tommy and the baby. And I wanted to tell you that–only if you’re comfortable with it, of course–but I’m happy to help in any way that I can.” She forced herself to meet Lizzie’s eyes. Her face was still set in a harsh frown, but some of the coldness had seeped out of her eyes before she looked down at her hands, folded carefully in her lap. “I know how Tommy can be sometimes,” Lucy continued, still keeping her gaze on Lizzie despite the other woman still staring downwards. “So if you ever…if you and the baby aren’t getting what you need from him, you’re always welcome to come to me instead. Sometimes I can be a little more successful in convincing him of things.”

Lizzie’s gaze lifted to meet hers, any warmth that had started to seep into her eyes gone, leaving nothing but cold steel in its wake. 

“If you really wanted to help, you would leave Tommy and never come back.”

Lucy’s lips parted, shrinking in on herself subconsciously. The words were hurled at her like a rock, and ready as she thought that she was to hear them, they still pierced painfully in her chest. Now it was her turn to look down, staring at the plain golden rings that encircled her fingers. She made no attempt to defend herself. No effort to argue against Lizzie’s demand. This was why she was here, right? To let Lizzie punish her for the selfish choice to still stay with Tommy. To keep him from truly having a proper family with Lizzie.

And Lizzie was correct, of course. Leaving would be the right thing to do. The less selfish action. Hell, if she left right now, she could head over to the house, pack up her things, and be on a train out of the city before the sun had even set. Yes, Tommy may be sad, at least at first. But he would get over it. With Lizzie by his side, it wouldn’t be long before he would forget that Lucy had ever even existed in the first place. 

Lucy wrapped her arms around herself, as if she could somehow hug the horrid thoughts out of her. No, no. That wasn’t true; Tommy would be distraught if she left. He wouldn’t just get over it. He loved her. He didn't want to be with Lizzie. He said…

But that one cursed phase continued to spin in her head, repeating over and over again:

But maybe if I wasn’t here…

Beside her on the couch, Lizzie shuddered, turning away, knuckles pressed to her lips, twitching and fidgeting. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” She said finally, and before Lucy could respond, she launched up out of her seat, starting to pace across the room. “It's just so unfair. I’m having his baby, and he won’t even consider…” she trailed off, shooting Lucy an ashamed look. All the venom and iciness that had been in her eyes a moment ago was gone, and for a moment, Lucy felt as though she were staring into a mirror of her own guilt and pain. Lizzie wetted her lips, shoulders lowering. “When Polly told me I was pregnant, I started to hope,” she said, finally, as if trying to offer some sort of explanation. 

“Lizzie…” Lucy started sympathetically. Her hand rested on the cushion beside her in silent invitation, and after a moment of looking her up and down warily, Lizzie shuffled back over and plopped down beside her. “You can’t force someone to love you,” Lucy said after a long pause during which she internally debated whether or not to actually speak the words. But the venom of jealousy did not return to Lizzie's face. Instead she just merely looked to the floor, expression crestfallen in a way that made Lucy’s heart hurt. 

Guilt gnawed at her like a dog with a bone, chipping away at her bit by bit. The irrational part of her still blamed herself. Still battered her with endless internal torment. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to shove away the continued mantra of: But maybe if I wasn’t here…But maybe if I wasn’t here…But maybe if I wasn’t here…

“Even if I didn’t exist, or was wiped off the face of the earth at this very second, it still might not change the way that he feels. I’m not saying that to be cruel.” Reaching out, tentatively, like she would a skittish horse, she settled her hand on top of Lizzie’s where it rested on the firm green cushion between them. “I’m saying it because if you’re only having this baby as some…attempt to force Tommy to fall in love with you, you might not get what you want. And that wouldn’t be fair to the baby. Or you. Or Tommy. But, if you do genuinely want the baby…”

“I do,” Lizzie nodded vigorously, the hand not covered by Lucy’s going to press against her still flat stomach, and Lucy could see the genuine love that crossed her face. Lizzie had always liked children. She’d always been incredibly good with Charlie, and often at family gatherings she would take time to sit and play with John’s kids.

“Okay,” Lucy said. “Then we’ll figure out some way to make this all work. I know that Tommy is dedicated to supporting both of you, and will want to be involved in their life as much as he can. And I…” it felt impossibly selfish for her to ask what she was about to, but she forced herself to ask anyway. The worst that Lizzie could say was no, after all. “I’d like to be involved too, at least just a little. But I can understand if you don’t want that and I can keep my distance, if you’d rather. I don’t have any intentions of trying to…take away or usurp your position as the baby’s mother. I just want to help.”      

Lizzie’s head tilted slightly, considering with her eyes focused faraway on the opposite wall. “I suppose…I suppose that would be fine. Tommy will insist on you being around anyway.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to include me if you’d really rather not,” it would hurt. A lot. But she didn’t want to force Lizzie into anything, either. “It’s your choice who helps you to raise your baby.”

“Yes, but it’s his too, isn’t it? He’ll want you included,” she shrugged. “I suppose that I could use as much help as I can get.” She finally looked back at Lucy. “And you’ve always been so good with Charlie.”

It was Lucy’s turn to look away then, bashfully staring down at her shoes. Beside her, Lizzie shifted, and when she spoke again, some of the bitterness had returned to her voice. 

“He loves you so much.”

Lucy felt her brows pull together slightly, her guard, that she’d dropped as Lizzie’s iciness had thawed, cautiously starting to raise back up. When she lifted her head, Lizzie was looking away from her again. 

“I suggested that he split up with you, did you know that? When I told him about the baby. And he wouldn’t even consider it. Not even for a second.” Her gaze shifted back to Lucy. “It’s hard not to hate you for that.”

Lucy pulled her hands back, settling them in her lap so that she could unconsciously fiddle with her rings again. “I’m sorry–”   

“No; don’t apologize. It’s,” Lizzie squeezed her eyes shut. “It’s not your fault,” she opened them again. “It’s my problem. And I am trying not to hold it against you. I promise I am.” She gave her a small, humorless smile. “I was doing pretty well at it until that day by the canal.”

“It was so selfish of us to take you down there. I’m sorry. We weren’t thinking.”

“Neither was I.”

Lucy nodded, fingers flexing. “I mean it, you know. Tell me if there’s anything that you need from either of us, and I’ll do what I can,” her shoulders raised in a tiny shrug. “The three of us are in this together, now.”

“Thank you.” Lizzie murmured. “I appreciate that. Really. It’s just so,” she hesitated, searching for the word, and finally simply settled on, “hard.”

Lucy nodded. Outside, she could hear the sounds of cars. “It’s difficult for me too.”

Lizzie shot her a quizzical look, and Lucy squirmed in her seat uncomfortably. 

“I can’t have children,” she explained in a soft voice, hoping that would be enough clarification as to what she meant. Lizzie’s eyes widened. 

“Really?”

Lucy nodded. Lizzie’s brows pinched, pale hand reaching out to rest her long fingers on her knee. 

“I’m sorry.”

Lucy just shrugged. “I’ve mostly made peace with it, I think.”

“I always wondered why you and Tommy didn’t have any of your own.”

“Yeah, well, that’s why.” It certainly wasn’t for lack of trying. She had made a half joke, many years ago, that if there was a way for her to get pregnant, Tommy surely would have figured it out by now.  

She looked back at Lizzie. I suppose we both have something that the other wants, then.

The clock on the wall chimed, and when she looked in its direction, it was to find that far more time had passed while talking to Lizzie than she’d thought. 

“I, um, I should get going. I promised Tommy I would be back at the office before lunch.”

“Right,” Lizzie withdrew her hand from her knee and sighed. “I don’t suppose you have any idea when this mess with the Italians will all be over, do you?”

“Soon, I think.” I hope, she corrected. 

“Have you beheaded any more Italians lately?”

Lucy felt a tiny smile prick at the edges of her lips. “Not yet.”

One side of Lizzie’s lips quirked upwards. “Personal feelings about you aside, I am glad that my baby will have you to be there for them.”

A rush of emotion washed over Lucy at that, looking away with a small smile as they both stood. Fumbling with her rings one last time before letting her hands drop to her sides, she raised her head to look up at Lizzie. “Thank you for letting me be involved. Really. It means a lot.” 

Lizzie nodded, and walked her to the door. 

“I’ll talk to you later?” Lucy asked, a teeny, tiny bead of hope, that maybe the friendship they’d been on their way to building before this whole mess had blown up in their faces could be salvaged, had begun to bloom despite her attempts to temper it. 

“Yeah,” Lizzie nodded. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too.” Pulling her cap out of her pocket, she reached for the door handle and twisted it open. 

She barely had time to process the towering, dark suit-clad figure standing on the other side of it, or the cocked hat on his head and the toothpick wedged between his teeth, before a hand, fingers adorned with rings, crashed in a vicious backhand across her face. The side of her head slammed hard into the doorframe, and she went sprawling to the ground, dazed, black spots appearing across her vision. Somewhere behind her, she heard Lizzie scream. 

She hardly was able to make out the figure of Luca Changretta, still looming over her in the doorway, before his booted foot swung into her face, and everything went dark. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Lizzie braced a hand on the wall of the narrow hallway leading from the front door into the sitting room, staring in open-mounted horror at where Lucy lay in a crumpled, unmoving heap in the entryway. Luca stared down at the little redhead for a moment, checking to make sure that she was truly unconscious, before he lifted his head, and met Lizzie’s eyes with a huge, face splitting grin. 

“Hello, Lizzie.” 

There were three men crowded in behind him, and behind his elbow, she spotted the face of her gardener peering in at her. 

The phone call. She only vaguely could recall him coming in, the hum of his voice from the kitchen while she was busy with Lucy in the sitting room. Oh, God… 

Staggering back a few steps, she turned to run towards the backdoor, but only got so far as the sitting room before skidding to a halt at the crunch of wood splintering as the door was kicked in, two Italians shouldering past the wrecked wood to block her way out. 

“Get that to the car,” Luca snapped his fingers, nodding at Lucy. “And don’t forget to bind her hands and feet. I want one of you watching her at all times in case she wakes up.” 

“No–” Lizzie took a step forward, as if there was anything she could possibly do to stop them. Luca’s gaze shot back up to her, and with another grin, he stepped over Lucy while the men behind him grabbed her by the shoulders and started to drag her away.

“How lucky for you that she was the one who opened the door,” he started conversationally. Lizzie’s hands were shaking, her knees unsteady. Luca took an advancing step closer, fully entering the sitting room, and Lizzie took another back in response, keeping ample space between. Luca seemed unbothered by the action. 

“It’s nice to finally make your acquaintance. My brother was so taken with you, he wrote about you often enough in his letters to me, I feel like I almost know you myself.” The sparkle of taunting glee was still in his eyes, but underneath, Lizzie saw fiery rage. “You do remember my little brother, don’t you, Lizzie?” 

The mention of Angel was enough to make her stomach turn with guilt. Poor, poor Angel. She’d been trying to get over Tommy, since at the time he’d been engaged to Grace and happy with his newborn boy. And Angel had been there, this sweet Italian boy who doted on her, and who she had genuinely thought that she’d started to love. 

But not enough. Not enough for her to quit her job with the Shelbys so that they could be together. Not enough to keep her from breaking up with him when tensions rose between the two families. Not enough for her to mourn all that long after John and Arthur slit his throat. Not enough for her to stop working for his killers. Not enough to say no when Tommy and Lucy had started coming to her again for sex. 

“Yes. Yes, of course I remember Angel. I’m so sorry about what happened–”

Luca continued to grin, but his eyes were deep dark pits of hate. “And yet, you’ve had no problem running around with the men who killed him.” He took another step closer. 

She was shaking like a leaf and didn’t know how to stop. Tears started to roll down her cheeks. “I’m sorry–” she tried again.

Like a jaguar, Luca suddenly lunged at her with inhuman speed. His hand latched onto her throat, her back slamming into the wall hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs, and immediate panic zigzagged through her. 

No, no, not my baby. Please don’t hurt my baby.

“I don’t want to hear your fucking apologies!” he roared in her face, hot breath fanning across her cheeks. “I want my fucking family back!”

“Please,” she managed to catch her breath enough to be able to speak, but his hand was tight enough around her throat that it made drawing in air difficult. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

“Mr. Changretta.” It was her gardener, hovering by the sofa, clutching his dirty gloves. Luca growled in annoyance, fingers flexing against Lizzie’s throat. 

“Matteo, get this man paid and out of here–”

“Mr. Changretta, she’s pregnant,” the gardener interpreted. “I heard Winters say something about it.”

Luca froze, his eyes shifting back to Lizzie, like a shark that had just caught the scent of blood in the water. His jaw twitched, teeth grinding together. She could see something click behind his eyes, and her terror tripled. 

“Whose?” he asked, grip tightening around her neck. If she made it out of this alive, she would for certain have bruises all up and down the column of her pale throat. 

“Please…” she sobbed. 

“Tommy Shelby bought you this fucking house…” Luca’s eyes swept across the sitting room. “Despite you recently leaving his employment.”

“I’m sorry–”

“Is it his!?”

He’s going to kill me, she thought, panic intensifying. “Yes,” she whispered, tears still rolling down her cheeks.

Luca laughed, and it was the worst sound Lizzie had ever heard. “Well, well. How nice that is for you. Congratulations,” his words dripped with sarcasm and venom. “Still a whore, I see. No matter what you prefer to fancy yourself as these days.” He looked over his shoulder, towards the front door where his men had taken Lucy out to where Lizzie had to presume the car was. His face swung back around to hers. “Does Winters know? Is that why she came here?”

Lizzie just whimpered, pressing her lips together. His fingers were digging so hard against her windpipe that she doubted she could have spoken if she’d wanted to. Luca’s face contracted, smile dropping way to a look of pure hatred, his hands squeezed hard enough to completely cut off any more oxygen, and Lizzie let out a soft choking sound. But a moment later, he let her go, and her head fell forward as she coughed and wheezed, lungs expanding as she hastily sucked in air. Luce seized her by the cheeks instead, tilting her head up until the back of her skull rested against the wall. 

“Hm…in light of this…new information, I’m going to change my plans for you. You see, I was planning to let my boys here,” he nodded to the men guarding the back exit, “smack you around a little. I would like to kill you for this. And maybe someday I will.” He leaned forward, until their noses were almost touching. “After Mr. Shelby is dead. Maybe I’ll kill you and your child. Maybe I’ll kill you and take the child into my family.” He shrugged. “I suppose that we’ll just have to wait and see.” 

Lizzie felt a burst of frantic protectiveness for the tiny life growing inside of her, manifesting itself in a ferocious glare that made Luca chuckle. 

“But not today. I made a deal, you see, with Mr. Shelby, not to harm any children. Vile as his spawn may be. Our people have traditions of honor. I’d hate for him to think that I’d gone back on my word.” His face retreated from hers, though his hand remained, squeezing crushingly at her cheeks, pushing her head painfully against the wall. “As for Miss. Winters, she’s coming with us. She and I have unfinished business. You can tell Tommy that we took her. Or not.”

Lizzie’s eyes widened at the suggestion; at the choice he was offering her. 

“The decision is yours. Either way,” Luca shrugged, “he won’t be able to find her until it’s too late.” He laughed. “Really, you should be thanking me. Seems like by getting rid of her, I may be solving a very irksome problem for you.”

When she said and did nothing, his smile fell, and he leaned in close again, speaking in a hoarse, hissing whisper.

“Remember, once all the Shelbys are gone, I’ll be coming for you.” His hand dropped suddenly away, her head falling forward and away from the wall in surprise at no longer having his palm holding her in place. 

“Please, don’t–” she started to beg. But Luca’s hand snapped forward, smashing the back of her head brutally against the wall, and the world fell away to blackness. 

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[katastrophic-n3vulaa]

a little excerpt from a new daredevil and avengers fic im writing.

premise: matt did die at midland circle, but he learnt many things from stick, and he can be the devil in more than name, so he refused to fall.

The world is on fire.

All his nerves are firing, the cuts on his body like flows of molten rock, the raw skin over his torso is covered in flaking patches of blood, the microscopic particles in the air running like sandpaper over his open skin, the vibrations of a train more than twenty blocks away arching through his bones, the lines of still-warm blood that flow down his body feels like someone carving a white-hot knife through him even though blood isn’t even close to that temperature-

Footsteps sound on steel sixteen blocks away. He flinches, burying his head deeper into his shoulders, but he can still hear all of it- 

The minivan with AC/DC blaring through the speakers and the shouts and yells of the eleven people drunk and dancing thirty-seven blocks away, the cars on the streets, the screech of breaks failing as one car slams into a corner shop’s glass window, taking a drunk couple with them into death,

a man with a broken rib and a woman with a dislocated shoulder screaming and yelling at each other in Romanian, as a little girl two rooms over holds her baby brother in his crib crying, three pairs of people having sex, the dying heartbeat of an old woman sitting on the side of the road, staring up at the stars,

the gunfight at the docks, two kids screaming for someone to save their father as an alcoholic mother smashes a bottle into his exposed back, a teen sitting on top of a ten-storey building zipping up a bag and stepping off the ledge-

A child in the corner of a room, gagged and long since out of tears shivering violently as their blood pressure drops to lethal levels, a sister curling around the dying body of her older brother held by her mother and father as their son dies of something that could’ve been treated had they been anywhere else,

the screams of children, teens, adults and elders alike, the laughs of thirteen different people- some hysterical, some cruel, one joyful- and the thousands of different heartbeats he hears-

He can hear the gravel under his feet, the scrape of his bare feet across it, the bones in his body moving, joints rotating as his ligaments move in an instinctual way to walk, his muscles contracting and expanding, his blood rushing around his body, the blood still running on the outside of his body over skin, his heartbeat, the grinding of his teeth and his eyes blinking but he can’t see and he hasn’t been able to since he was nine-

He shudders as the scent of rotting and decaying bodies rush over him, joining the smell of salt, wind, pollen, dead fish, sulphur, motor oil, sweat, sex, alcohol, skin, nylon, plastic, burning rubber, metal, leather, cologne, perfume, tears, bricks and more and more and more and more-

But he hears familiar humming from a familiar place as he clenches his eyes shut to stop the dust and sound and light from touching them, and he stumbles from an alley as the talking of four people becomes crystal clear, he can hear the mechanical whirring from a man’s chest,

the high-pitched endless squeal of hearing-aids from another, the trained quiet from a woman, and the heavy thundering heartbeat from a man who’s muscles twitch then move as the man steps towards him, and he can hear the man’s lungs contract and air start moving as the man’s vocal folds move and the man starts yelling, “sir!” and he flinches, burying his head further into his shoulders and limping on forward to that familiar place.

bc i haven't slept, for anyone who actually reads all the way down here, you get a present called the google doc link where i put my chapters. all it's got is some of chapter 1 at the moment

Also, the 'him' refers to matt, because he quite literally just revived himself and escaped after a year of semi-torture, and he doesn't remember his name yet.

the man refers to steve (captain america) most of the time

also i know the formatting is shit, but ao3 has more space so hopefully it dont look as shit on there

[bigskydreaming]

Imagine if you were a gay or bi man who tried a certain firefighter show because of all the attention it was getting for one of its mains having a later in life bi awakening.....and between seasons you ventured into its fandom in search of material to tide you over til the next one. And you're greeted by a deluge of posts and fics that are just cheerfully homophobic towards one half of the newly out bi character's canon relationship on the basis of 'well he's not the RIGHT gay guy' and pushing the idea that actually its fine to cheat on him because Reasons and he's sexually predacious based on......behind the scenes implications people have divined like they're reading fucking tea leaves.

But don't get it twisted....this fandom, like all fandoms, really cares about representation!

Sorry not sorry, but we really need to kill this idea that fandoms are welcoming and inviting and inherently progressive when they're frequently insular and reductive as fuck. Every single fandom I've been in has had major trends of people doubling down on their own headcanons and fanon interpretations of the characters and willfully enacting trends aimed at running off people who like the 'wrong' characters (usually characters marginalized along one or multiple axes), like the characters in the 'wrong ways' or other bullshit.

Scott is a Bad Friend fics overtaking Teen Wolf fandom was not incidental, it was a FEATURE of the fandom, because the vast majority of that fandom did not want to share its space with anyone who had the nerve to like its main character. Survivors complaining about or criticizing the prevalance of rape fics in a certain fandom has in my experience always led to a reactionary UPTICK in those fics, with gems like 'this character can, will, must be raped' in the tags making it crystal clear that some of these fics exist because how fucking DARE anyone try and push forth a narrative not agreed upon by Fandom Main.

I could cite examples for so many other fandoms, with the commonalities always being that vast majorities in these fandoms are explicitly reacting defensively to being asked to be more mindful of fandom trends revolving around or exacerbating racism, homophobia, transphobia, rape or abuse apologia, ableism, etc....

With the most prolific fucking rallying cry across countless fandoms being "No the fuck we will NOT be doing that," because lolololol.....

Fandom is an inherently progressive space, didn't you hear?

[serasfanfiction]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

The next few days were peaceful. The kind of peaceful Lucifer hadn't experienced since the Hotel was in the process of being rebuilt. He hadn't realized how much stress Alastor was causing him until he backed off.

Lucifer might even have gotten a full nights sleep last night! That hadn't happened in an especially long time!

(He wasn't thinking about the fact that his sleep had been haunted by the caress of teeth along his neck or glimpses of red, red sated eyes.)

The images threatened to steal his attention, even as he tried to bury them down with all the other things he was refusing to think about at this point. He forced himself to pay attention, tuning in as Charlie said, excitedly, "She's already spending half her time here! It's really only a matter of time before she agrees to join us full time!"

The campaign to get Cherri Bomb to join the Hazbin Hotel had been having mixed results since the fight with Adam and her participating in the rebuilding. She was clearly here mostly for Angel, but it seemed that the other denizens of the hotel were growing on her. Charlie was correct in that the cyclops spent just as much time at the hotel as she did were ever else she landed when she wasn't with them. She even had a room of her own, even if she didn't officially claim it. It definitely helped it was right next door to her best friend.

Lucifer patted her shoulder. "She'll come around in her own time. Remember, for this to work, they have to actually want it."

Charlie placed her hand over her father's, biting her lip and near bursting with excitement. "I know, but it just feels like we're so close! It'll be so great when she agrees."

"Yes, but in the meantime, we'll just continue to make her feel welcome." He smiled at her proudly. "Which you're already doing so well at!"

Charlie's returned the smile, pleased with his feedback.

The moment, like so often when one lives in Hell, was suddenly and abruptly interrupted by the entire building shaking.

Angel appeared on the landing of the second floor, the one that overlooked the main entrance and foyer. "What the hell? We haven't had any shady guests lately, have we?"

Alastor stepped out of the shadows near the entrance, a loud boom ringing out as something large and heavy hit the door.

Lucifer was suddenly glad he had reinforced the structure. It wasn't impossible that someone could break in through brute force, especially if someone was extremely determined, but the sheer effort would give the hotel guests ample time to mount a defense.

Loud shouting came from outside, words unintelligible through the thickness of it. Alastor ignored the hostile aura premating from outside as if he couldn't even feel it, throwing open the door.

"Oh my, you are quite annoying," he greeted the group at their door. The two fellas up front, stooges and the muscle by the look of them, were holding a large battering ram. Alastor eyed it distastefully. "Whatever business could you have with us that is worth all this racket?"

A nervous looking demon cleared his throat, unwisely drawing the Radio Demon's full attention. "We." He swallowed, complexion growing paler the longer Alastor stared at him. In a rush, he stated, "We were sent here to send a message!"

The radio host tilted his head to the side. "Message?"

The group glanced at each other, clearly psyching themselves up. Nodding, the 'leader' proclaimed, "Yeah, 'give up this shitty mission, or else.'"

"Or else what?"

The group collectively drew their weapons, an assortment of guns and knives. "Or else we're going to have to use force."

The widening of Alastor's grin should have been a warning. Lucifer would have felt bad for the little idiots for not seeing the flaming pile of shit they had just stepped in, but they were in the process of threatening his daughter and that was just a big no go for him.

"Oh, you really don't want to do that." Lucifer came up to stand beside Alastor, hands coming up in a shooing motion. "Like, seriously. Go back to whoever sent you and tell them they don't get a second warning."

The leader blinked down at him. He must have been new to Hell, because he asked, "And who are you?"

"Oh, little ol' me?" Lucifer's wings and horns appeared in all their full glory. "I'm the Devil, bitches."

The group barely had time to do little more than gape before they were sent tumbling arse over head from a powerful gust of wind, curtesy of the before mentioned wings. Fully prepared to rough them up a little before sending them on their way, Lucifer stepped out of the hotel.

Only to be halted by something wrapping around his waist. He glanced down at what appeared to be a shadow about the thickness of a vine. Now, where had that come from?

"Now, now, your Majesty, that won't do."

Ah, yes. Of course, it was one of Alastor's shadow tentacle things.

"Oi! Put me down!" The blond protested as he was picked up and then deposited on one of the second floor balconies.

Alastor didn't bother looking back at him. His tone was that of a parent talking to a particularly petulant child as he ordered, "Why don't you stay up there for a bit? There's really no need for you to get involved."

Lucifer had half a mind to take not just the goons out, but Alastor as well, but ultimately decided to let the Radio Demon have his fun. Besides, he was looking a little peckish lately. "Just leave one alive so they can tell their boss to back off!"

Down below, Charlie chimed in with, "Or we could leave all of them alive?"

Alastor near cackled as he grew in size, the invaders suddenly realizing they were in serious danger and attempting to make a run for it. Shadow creatures began to rise out of the ground, breaking off their get away. "Nonesense!" Alastor disagreed cheerfully. "Everyone mysteriously disappearing is a much more delicious way of keeping people on their feet!"

Lucifer rolled his eyes. Oh, he bet it was 'delicious.'

A noise behind him drew his attention. Lucifer looked over his shoulder, finding himself eye to eye with a wolf demon he'd never seen a day in his life. Especially not one that had no business sneaking into the hotel with a knife he was clearly intending to use.

They started at each other for a long moment. The guy must have been an idiot, because he apparently decided he wanted to take his chances and attempt to stab the King of Hell himself.

Lucifer reached up, fully intending to catch the blade. Under normal circumstances, weapons made in Hell couldn't hurt him and would have just shattered on contact.

But this blade wasn't just an ordinary blade made it Hell. Lucifer realized it must have been made from Angelic Steel when the knife cut straight through his hand like a hot knife through butter. He winced, despite himself. Somehow, he'd forgotten how much that could hurt.

The wolf demon made the mistake of not pressing his advantage, seeming to think that the pain of something as simple as a knife through the hand would be enough to make the first being to ever lead a rebellion against a real army to pause. Oh no, all it did was infuriate him.

Lucifer pressed his hand down the knife further, allowing him to take hold of the hilt. The demon's grip went slack with shock, allowing the blond to wretch it out of his hand. With his good hand, Lucifer yanked the offensive object out, carelessly tossing it onto one of the other neighboring balconies, where it would be of little use during this battle and could be retrieved later. "Oh, that was a very poor decision." Giving no quarter, he darted forward to wrap his hand around the demon's throat, wings flapping to give him the hieght to do so. "Tell me why you're up here, before I decide to be rid of you regardless."

The wolf grunted, hands clawing uselessly at his arm. He managed to choke out, "Like we said: we're just here to send a message."

Lucifer looked down at where Alastor was rounding up the last couple of stragglers, tossing a third into his mouth. The little nervous demon from before appeared to have peed himself from fright. The seraphim turned back to his captive. Something told him that those boo zoos were a mere distraction and this was the real leader of the group. Shaking him a little, Lucifer demanded, "Who sent you?"

A sneer came in response. "We're just for hire. We get a call and we do the job, no questions asked."

Lucifer realized he wasn't going to get anything of use out of this guy. And since he was likely the only real threat of the group, the blond didn't feel comfortable letting him be the return messenger.

A beat of his wings had them air born, bringing them to hover over Alastor, who's ears perked up as he realized he was about to get another morsel. "Whelp, in that case, it sounds like you're useless to me. Guess I'll just hand you over to the Alastor--"

"W-wait!" The wolf demon frantically choked out, "Isn't this p-place for s-second chances! Your d-daughter believes in that s-shit, doesn't she?"

Lucifer's eyes narrowed. "You're right. My daughter does have a gift for seeing the best in people, even when there isn't any. But me? My curse is that I'm damned to always see the worst in all of you." Between one blink to the next, he let his form bleed into it's most demonic, hellfire igniting and his broken halo taking form as the true crown of Hell manifested. His True Eyes opened along his coat, Seeing right through this worthless soul and all of his sins. "Tell me, honestly, do you regret, even a little, for pushing Elizabeth in front of that train? Did you care in the least that her husband only had a handful of voicemails to remember her voice by? That her son grew up without any memories of his own mother?"

The wolf demon gasped for breathe, eyes wild. "The- the reporter? I had to kill her." He squirmed and yanked to no avail, Lucifer's hand like steel around his neck. Frantically, he added, "She was no-no one! She- she was going to ruin everything!"

Lucifer sneered. "Wrong answer."

Without hesitation, he opened his fist. The wolf demon shrieked as he fell, the shrill sound abruptly cutting off as Alastor closed his mouth around his treat.

The nervous little demon, perhaps smarter than they gave him credit for, took advantage of the distraction to make his get away. Alastor let him in favor of watching his king, eyes alight and calculating.

Lucifer hovered above him, every one of his eyes trained on the sinner below him. He realized that while he had seen Alastor in his full eldritch form during their first meeting, this would be the first time Alastor was seeing him in his own full demonic form.

Alastor, like in every aspect of his life, neither blinked nor cowered. He brought up a hand, the motion that puppet slowness he'd showed when Lucifer had manifested the pair of deer ears. He brought it up until it hovered just below the Devil's feet.

Lucifer squinted at him, not trusting that if he let himself land in Alastor's hand, the latter wouldn't just drop him out of spite.

He never found out either way, as he became distracted by Charlie's alarmed shout of "Oh my goodness, Dad!"

Alarmed, Lucifer spun around, his demonic features melting away into his normal appearance. "Charlie? What's wrong?" He came down to land in front of her, reaching out to make certain nothing had gotten past them to hurt her. "Are you okay?"

Charlie grabbed onto his hand, causing him to wince. Horrified, she cried out, "Forget me! Your hand is hurt." She hissed as she assessed the full extent of the damage. "Oh shit, it went all the way through!" She twisted around to shout back at the other behind her. "Vaggie! Bandages!"

Lucifer held up his free hand. "It's fine, sweetie, really. It'll heal up in no time. Really, I'd be more worried about any survivors. Alastor is way too enthusiastic for a guard dog." He glanced over his shoulder at Alastor, who had shrunk down to his normal size. Lucifer caught a glimpse of a gold coated tongue past the the hand the red head had up to his mouth. Lucifer found himself reassessing if Alastor had been offering him a hand after all or if he had just been taking the opportunity to get another taste of angel blood.

Judging by the pleased look on the deer demon's face, and the fact that he was letting 'guard dog' comment slide, it was most likely the latter.

And this was why Lucifer had trust issues when it came to this little shit.

Charlie tugged him towards the inside of the hotel, saying something about bandaging his hand. He was forced to break eye contact with his rival or keep his daughter from carrying on with his fretting. Really, it was all too much. It would take longer than the usual for injury to heal - the scar would barely be noticeable in a few days! - there was really no need for all this fussing! He even tried to say as such, which turned out to be a bad idea, because now Charlie was making sad eyes at him and really he was just going to be quiet and let her do her thing because it was so much better than her crying.

In the mess of the clean-up, Lucifer completely forgot about the angelic blade.

tbc

Part 5

[phoenixesse]

Future's Present

I wrote this drabble because I love the champions and their descendants so much, especially Revali and Tulin. I HAD to write something for them, and here it is :) Please enjoy!

Please note that there are totk spoilers for all four of the Regional Phenomena main quest parts.

Despite the insistence of those at Lookout Landing, Link does not decide to travel up north to the freezing Hebra region first. He instead travels east to Kakariko Village, intent on visiting an old friend, reminiscing on a journey long past. 

Zora's Domain was naturally the closest from there. The muck had plagued them and their swimming abilities, so when Link arrived to help, he was tasked with seeking out the Zora Prince. 

He hadn't been to Zora's Domain in some time. There was really no way to tell how long it had been between when he and Zelda explored the castle, to when he woke up, after all. 

When he arrived and washed off the statue in the main area, Mipha did not greet him. Instead, a beautiful new carving of him riding Sidon to Vah Ruta was in its place. 

There's a sting of melancholy. 

It really shouldn't be there. Link's had his time to grieve, moreso than so many others were given the privilege. 

He doesn't think he could ever love Mipha in the way she did him, but at least he could hold onto her kindness like she'd held onto him with her grace.

It's hard to admit he misses her. All of them.  

-

He was told Sidon was located on Ploymus Mountain, stopping the tainted water at the source. When Link arrived, he paused, hand falling from where he'd been holding his weapon. 

The Zora had created a beautiful place named 'Mipha Court' in his time away, to honour their fallen princess. Somehow, Link knew she would've adored it. 

At the highest point, following the blue stairs with the water that flowed down them, was Mipha's statue. He looks over to the East Reservoir Lake, close to where Ruta used to be. 

There's an apology on his lips he can't say. He looks over to Sidon, hyper-focused on his task. 

He's glad she's been honoured to the highest degree and loved just as much as when she was alive.

-

He treks through the Eldin mountains next, embracing the not-so-scalding temperatures this time around. While visiting the back of Death Mountain, he notices the Lizard Lakes, reminding him of memories everyone wants to forget. He looks up higher on Death Mountain, only noticing a shrine waiting for him. He takes in a long breath. It was going to be no easy feat to reclimb all the way up. 

-

It's off-putting to see so many Gorons unravelled by their new food discovery, and even worse when Yunobo is completely unlike himself by seemingly his princess's cause. 

Luckily, the mask he's wearing breaks after a brief scuffle, and Yunobo is more than happy to fight. 

As they walk through the city on their way to cure whatever had plagued Death Mountain, the Goron Stone Memorial sits repolished, lights glowing in the eyes of each warrior carved. Daruk sits in the middle of them all, continually overlooking Goron City. 

"Do you think it looks alright?" Yunobo asks. "I had some help from my guys at YunoboCo, and I think it turned out pretty good!" 

Link nods. Protector, indeed. 

Daruk was a man of strength and heart. To see him stand as tall as he did on Rudania eases the ache in Link's heart ever-so-slightly. 

-

In the wake of another round of re-exploring Hyrule, Link wonders how easy it will be to travel to someone grounding. Having made up his mind, that's how he ends up all the way across the continent at the Gerudo Hideout's doorstep. His Ascend ability comes into great use, and after explaining his harsh methods, he's redirected to Riju's location. 

Her training seems to be having mixed results. She wields lightning as easily as Urbosa once did, but her aim is only truly guided once Link shoots an arrow to the correct destination. 

Her pride in her abilities is clear, heralding them with the passion Urbosa once did to protect the people important to her. 

The desert is once again shrouded in sand, making many areas unchartable. A certain camel stirs in Link's mind. The tower to see the map (when he could) sat right beside where it used to be. Before his long trek through the Gerudo Desert, he had sat on the steps, looking over it. The dragon that started to reside there made the spot look so small in comparison. 

After catching up on the reason for Gerudo Town's vacant state, Link learned of new enemies that came to swarm the Gerudo, and they seemed to have very few vulnerabilities. Riju's power of lightning is useful indeed, being one of the only things able to strike foes down. 

When the town is saved, she insists on following an old legend to dispel the sandstorm and kill off the Gibdo, hopefully for good. While preparations are being made, Link departs by her bedroom, happy to see her beloved sand seals upkept. 

He passes her diary on the way to the courtyard, eager to hear about the spoils he'd won. However, a few lines catch his attention in passing, and he stops. 

Riju speaks of her worries about The Upheaval, which comes from a place of little surprise. Her uneasiness continues into thoughts of Zelda and himself and their disappearance. She talks of the fortifications in place for Gerudo Town and how much she believes she can do against their new enemies. It ends with her speaking and leaving for training, advice Zelda once gave her at the forefront of her mind. 

"Oh, Lady Urbosa, if only you were here with us. Watch over us all in these dark times, and keep Zelda and Link safe..."

Link turns away, wandering outside to the courtyard. She's just as quick-witted as he remembers, which comes as no surprise but is a relief nonetheless. She also seems to be the only one to mention Urbosa, her importance still weighing on her mind. 

Her fury, her passion; he sees it so clearly in Riju. Urbosa's legacy was well placed in her hands.  

If there was only one person to keep the memory of such a woman alive, he's glad it turned out to be her.

-

The Hebra region is cold, much more than usual. The locals he's come across all tell of a never-ending blizzard, one that has broken the Rito's bridge and put their community into a heavy drought from food and shelter. 

From the Lucky Clover Gazzette, Link looks forward to the shrouded village. The Gazette isn't far, luckily. It's crowded and homey, with very few travellers and a story-hungry manager, but he's taken a few jobs from there, and it seems to be an alright place. 

He huddles by the fire, waiting for morning. He breathes in the cool air and the smell of smoke. He's finally arrived at where he was supposed to go in the very beginning.

After gliding over the bridge to arrive at Rito Village, Link explores what seems to be the vacant spiralled suburb. Snow piles mound from every surface, and all the rooms are empty.

The shops are still open, run by the children of the village. 

"The adults are gone," They say. "They went to find food and shelter. We're okay running everything while they're gone, though!"

Link thought being the sacred knight was a weighted burden at sixteen, but even then, he was chosen for it. There was always no hesitance when the thought occurred that he'd do alright. But these children? Running a whole village on their own? It makes him feel a tinge of guilt for not saving Zelda already, and putting this in their hands. Wasn't this something he was born to do?

He finds Tulin, Teba, and Saki talking on a certain landing covered in snow. It's indistinguishable from every other place in the village at this point. 

Tulin must be around twelve years old now, claiming his independence with his promising, above-average skill set. Another kid with the weight of their world on his shoulders. 

When he notices Link from afar, his eyes light up with glee and excitement. It makes him wonder why it took so long for him to get here. 

Tulin has grown, that much is easy to see. Teba sighs and shakes his head once his son eagerly takes off on his next adventure. He tells Link that he can't leave, his new mantle as chief connected to overseeing the village in its darkest hour. 

So Link follows, trekking up another mountain and into the mouth of a large cave. 

Tulin's gone far, far ahead, exiting out of the other side and glaring up at some monsters. His tenacity is admirable, but it could be seen as foolhardy. Many of the Rito through the cave praised Tulin for his skill but sighed regardless, his lack of cooperation becoming a further frustrating trait. It's an echo of a person Link once knew, this child training to become a champion but seemingly held back by an inner flaw. 

Tulin's excitement is still palpable, even once he tells Link his bow was stolen. With his power to control the winds and Link's skill as a halfway decent archer, Tulin retrieves his bow, happier than ever. 

As he inspects said item, his smile fades, and his expression downturns. 

"Link? I don't think I should've rushed off like that." He clutches his bow closer. "They all warned me, and I didn't listen. I just thought that because I had some better skills, I wouldn't need anyone else's help. I just didn't want to see them hurt, especially when they're all working so hard for the village."

Link's eyes widen, and he wonders if a certain loner would've said the same thing if he'd been this age. 

He places a hand softly on his shoulder, rubbing it in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. Tulin peeks up with broad eyes. He dashes into Link's stomach, wings wrapping around his back. 

Link hesitantly places both of his arms around the boy in return. 

"You know, I really think I get it now. Teaming up with you was so fun! And it makes things a lot easier too." Tulin pulls back. "I think I'm ready. Let's go to the Sky Islands and save Princess Zelda!"

As they fly over, the catharsis settles, and the blizzard seems a little less harsh. 

-

The Sky Islands in Hebra are a gigantic collection of ships based on an old myth that was very questionably true until now. Sheets of cloth line nearly every one, creating a space to bounce from ship to ship. As they near the eye of the storm, the wind grows harsher, and even the paraglider has trouble flowing through the gusts of wind. Tulin is just as strong here as he is on the ground, the only tell of struggle through his squinted eyes. 

Finally, as the storm reached its apex, one last ship stood in the way. As Tulin bursts Link forward, he latches on to the side of the ship, eventually able to pull himself up. With one more bounce, the clouds clear, and finally, finally, the far edges of the horizon sing in prominence. 

The two fall, eyes marvelling at the sky between one held breath- one held moment of stasis and the next. 

Vah Medoh had been one thing but was so secluded in comparison. Even though Link had travelled through the sky so much already, he understood Rito's love for it only then. 

The center of the storm housed the ship of legend in all of its splendour. With five turbines to activate throughout the three floors of the ship, they were going to be there for some time. 

But it was eventually done. 

Another of Ganondorf's creations, Colgera, waited for them from beneath.

Link and Tulin were blown into the sky as the giant monster attacked. 

By utilizing a combination of well-placed arrows, Tulin's gusts, and dodging the spikes and tornados thrown their way, the monster fell in defeat. 

Tulin, upon touching the sacred stone, becomes acquainted with the Imprisoning War from his ancestor and told the same as the other sages. 

'The Sage of Wind', they'll now call him. A title heavy for a kid, but accepted wholeheartedly of his own volition. Another guardian has been born into Rito Village.

He looks at Link with pride he's only seen very a few times before. He won't let him, or any of the others, down. 

-

Link stumbles by a woman as he makes his way to the top of the village upon their return. She makes passing, polite small talk with him, mentioning Vah Medoh's perch. She says it casually as if it's not a bad thing to remember. 

It makes him breathe a sigh of relief as she wanders away.

-

Teba is overjoyed to see the two of them when they return. As their conversation about the Stormwind Ark dies down, Teba turns to his son, unclasping the bow on his back. Tulin looks around in surprise. 

"I did tell you that this bow would be yours someday when you came into being a warrior." 

Tulin nods, his wings gently wrapping themselves around the bow. Link sees his eyes travel down the blue ribbon attached, and feels his own breath catch. 

"Dad... thank you," Tulin says. "I'll prove that I'm a worthy enough warrior to use it." 

A small gust ruffles the trees nearby.

Teba nods, Saki behind him smiling. Tulin finally turns to Link.

"I think I'm going to look into the Stormwind Ark to figure out what

happened to Princess Zelda, so I might be gone for a while. But that doesn't mean I'll be gone forever, so come back soon, okay? I might have new information for you!" Link nods. "And don't feel like you're ever alone. I'm the Sage of Wind now, and my avatar will be supporting you for as long as I can!" 

Link blinks, a small smile peeking through. He was going to be undoubtedly an unforgettable ally.

-

The adrenaline from his final adventure before the last battle finally wears off as everyone departs for the highest point of Rito Village. 

There's no one else around, and the snow has finally melted the village's cold exterior and could finally be inhabited again. 

Link turns his head to a sign a little ways away, noting that the Rito had polished it from his last visit with a red and white feather-like trim. 

It reads: 'Revali's Landing'.

The pattern on the wood from it has not seemed to age. The Rito symbol sits proudly, even still, a shining beacon of hope for those who come across it. 

How fitting that a bow passed from a great warrior, to a fighter and chief, and finally to his proven son was received in that very place. 

The Rito did not speak of Revali, it seemed. They, like the rest of the world, had moved on in small ways over one-hundred years. 

While his name may not have been spoken, it was softly known. From how well-kept the landing was to the passing of a torch. Tulin had the same force of a gale, and the power few Rito could harness would not go to waste in his care. 

Even with such sentiment, Link couldn't help but feel a tad sympathetic for Revali. He would've hated not being mentioned more. He would've hated his sympathy. Link could laugh.

He doesn't.

He kneels down and runs a hand over the largest part of the Rito symbol. A sudden thought comes to him, and he sorts through his bag. 

The sun starts to set, and pinks and blues flood the horizon most over the Hebra and Tabantha regions. Link leans up against the post of the landing, limbs too tired to find a proper campfire. 

He drifts off to sleep, finally a pseudo-peace lightly blanketing his mind. 

-

In the middle of the landing site, three Blue Nightshades lightly ruffle through the wind, steady. 

I had forgotten you a lifetime ago, but in this one, I won't allow that memory to be lost.

EXTRA:

Link blinks awake, the full moon high in the sky and darkness shrouding the atmosphere. He stretches, briefly regretting his decision to sleep on the wood. 

The flowers he'd placed sit peacefully, untouched. Maybe he'd backtrack a little with the idea now in mind. Maybe put some Swift Violets in the middle of Mipha Court? Or Sundelions in front of the giant Goron Statue? Or even Electric Safflina on Riju's desk? 

A pitter-patter of footsteps worms its way around until the source is at his side. 

"Sorry, I didn't wake you up, did I?" Tulin asks.

Link shakes his head.

"Phew, that's good. Couldn't sleep?"

Link parses with the thought for a moment. He tilts his head from side to side with a sheepish half-smile. 

Tulin smiles, taking a seat next to Link. "Me neither. I mean, I'm so glad to be the Sage of Wind! But... I guess I've never really thought about what that meant. More exciting new adventures for sure!" He looks to the moon. "I know we can protect Hyrule. It's just a matter of time!"

Link nods quickly, smile stretching. 

"It's nice to see the sky so clear again. You can actually see the moon!"

Link agrees. He hopes Tulin notices. 

They sit in silence for a few more minutes, Tulin's eyes still on the sky. 

"I like the flowers, by the way," Tulin says softly. "I'll make sure they won't get hurt while I'm around."

Link nods appreciatively. 

"You know, I actually met Master Revali once before. It was a long time ago, and I don't fully remember what happened because I was so young, but I ask Dad about it as often as I can, because he was there too!" Link stares, wide-eyed. "Dad told me I accidentally followed him into a portal back in time, where the calamity was stopped, and no one died!"

Tulin's eyes glow. 

"Master Revali saved me that day! He's really just as great as everyone said! And a lot nicer once you get to know him." Tulin chuckles. "I have his bow now. I told him one day I'd be worthy of it! I wish he could've seen me master it!"

Tulin falls back onto a post with a yawn. 

"Link, do you think- since you knew- ugh, actually, never mind." He shakes his head. 

Link tilts his head to the side in a questioning look. He hopes it's comforting enough for Tulin to keep going and be unashamed of doing so. 

"It's kind of a stupid question." He laughs awkwardly. "Like I know dad already is, and I don't have to prove anything to anyone but- do you think that... Master Revali would've been proud of me?" 

Link's eyes widen twofold, and for one of the very few times in his life, he acts on an impulsive emotion alone. He reaches behind Tulin, clutching him in his arms. He shakes his head up and down vigorously, unsure if the kid can even feel it. 

"You really think so?" Oh no, he sounds a little sad. "Thank you, Link!" Tulin laughs openly instead. "Thank you so much!" He reciprocates the hug, a wide smile pressed into Link's upper shoulder. 

When they pull away, the moon has already lowered significantly from the start of their conversation. Tulin yawns again. 

"I'm guessing you're going to have to leave tomorrow morning? Lots of stuff to get ready for the final fight, right?"

Link finds himself reluctantly nodding. 

"That's okay! I know you and everyone else are going to do awesome, Link!" Tulin yawns a third time. "I'd invite you to where we live for the night, but there's not that much room. Do you mind if I stay out here tonight?"

Link shakes his head.

"Awesome." Tulin leans his own head against Link's shoulder. "Good night, Link. And thanks for everything."

Sleep comes to the pair far easier this time. 

-

At the same time, for the briefest of seconds, the water calms in every lake. The rocks and lava silence their thunder. A faraway bolt of lightning strikes an enemy. A light breeze ruffles through a trio of flowers, the chosen knight, and the Rito's upcoming greatest warrior. 

Riju writes another entry into her diary, the next day looking even more promising. 

Yunobo says goodnight to every Goron still awake after a hard day at work. 

Sidon watches a shooting star fall from afar from the King's throne, attaching every single hope he has onto it.

A blissful peace settles over Hyrule. Even though there are many challenges yet to overcome, for one night, everything seems like it might turn out okay. 

[jamiesfootball]

📓

I have a thing where between the second and third season Dani took Jamie back with him to Mexico for most of the summer break. Dani's family spoiled them rotten with delicious food, and he met all of Dani's siblings and cousins and aunts and uncles. More than five of the young ones, they all want to be strikers like Dani and they all want to play for Mexico like Dani and they all look up to Dani with stars in their eyes and they make Jamie and Dani run drills with them until dinner. Dani's mama doesn't speak a word of english, but the whole time he's there she keeps patting him on the cheek and smiling and fussing and Jamie can't understand a word she says but he's never felt so certain in his life that he was in someone's good graces.

Amigo de Dani. Tu amigo, Dani? Dani's friend. He was Dani's friend, and for that they threw doors open wide and embraced him with the same warmth that made Dani burn like the sun.

It was overwhelming. It was fucking brilliant.

And while they were there they had like. A real camping trip. Tents on the ground and twenty of Dani's closest relatives getting plastered on tequila. At night him and Dani curl up in a tent and pass a bottle of mezcal back and forth without any real intent, too busy cackling over stupid jokes.

With Dani's sleeping bag pressed against his shoulder and a low tent hanging over him, Jamie doesn't feel crowded. Laying on the ground doesn't feel like a hardship; it feels like a sleepover. With the weight of an open sky hovering just out of sight, he feels small and free. The world feels vast with potential. He feels excited about what's waiting for him back in Richmond. They've been promoted, the lads like him, Roy Kent hugged him for fuck's sake. This time last year he was miserable in Manchester and contemplating nuking his career. It feels surreal, how much better his life has gotten.

Yeah, next year's going to be better. He knows it.

[essektheylyss]

@smallerthanzer0 reminded me of my love for Lie To Me as a teenager which is a good part of the reason why anytime I encounter the concept that lying will inevitably lead to a tangled web that spirals beyond your control and come back to bite you in the ass, I'm just like, lol. skill issue.

[yannfredericks]

karl jenkins is one of my favourite members of the gang and one of my favourite things to do is give him a bf who is absolutely obsessed with him!!!!! karl spends like his whole life third wheeling yolly and scorbus and having crushes on all of his friends and so I present matt wood who has been in love with him since like second year and is so obsessed with him that he gets a rain cloud above his head whenever he thinks karl likes someone else

[nookisms]

Apparently today is Return to Dream Land Deluxe's anniversary! I DID say I would get it in that poll, so it seems like the perfect day to do it!

[nenoname]

“he almost never called him stanford.” “he almost always called him stanley.” (names, nicknames and their meanings over two lives)

update! channeling my ‘oh god studying something i hate is insanely boring and difficult i'm losing it’ onto stan and me being v sleepy onto ford

[astriiformes]

Navigating a slightly awkward fandom etiquette situation that I'd be interested in other folks' input on

I was a part of a really neat little gift exchange where my own prompt ended up having to be filled by a pinch-hitter, which may be one reason for the mismatch. The TL;DR is I had requested a genfic (unsurprisingly to you all, I am sure) and the gift I ended up getting was... not, and felt a bit like it veered from the prompt to additionally focus on a character I don't care as much for.

(Ultimately I am not horribly put-out because this was for a small fandom and there were a number of other works people did for the exchange that I got excited about, and also the vibes of the whole event have been lovely and kind which is why I don't want to kill that!)

My dilemma is I feel like I still ought to leave a comment on the fic -- it doesn't seem right not to on an exchange gift, especially when someone stepped up to write something last minute and I think just genuinely didn't understand my preferences. However I am still feeling a tiny bit of aromantic weariness about the situation, and feel a bit uncomfortable with that. My usual "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all" fic policy is failing me here, and there are at least a few bits of it I still liked and could bring up in a comment. But it all feels a little disingenuous.

Just contemplating the best sort of comment to leave that won't hurt the writer's feelings and even expresses some gratitude for stepping up at the last minute (since I'm sure there are other folks getting excited about the story, and I like that thought) but also doesn't totally misrepresent what I am About in fandom, you know?

[voiddemon]

I am brainstorming ficlets constantly now and "Prince Fluff is aware he has plot armor and goes to HELL knowing Kirby&Skirby will have to work together to drag his ass out, but they will do it" is extremely funny. i think he would start IMMEDIATELY with putting himself in mortal peril no other fool could survive and relying purely on luck and the hope his friends are strong just to make the two of them get along. then it only works for a day. and they're both mad at him over it because dude what the fuck.

[laceratedlamiaceae]

Steddyhands for that ship ask game?

(ship ask game)

Don’t Ship It

Why don’t you ship it?

I actually used to ship it, I think mostly because for a while it was pretty much the only Izzy ship people were writing fics for, but I fell out of it in part because I genuinely dislike Ed and Stede (they're great characters and they make a great couple, but as people they're both deeply off-putting to me, especially the way they're usually written in fics, whereas I just straightforwardly love Izzy and I unironically believe that he deserves better) and in part because I've read so, so, so many fics where, either explicitly or subtextually, it seems like Izzy is being coerced/forced into being in a relationship with them and I'm incredibly sensitive to any slight hint of possible consent issues, especially in works that aren't about examining the issues involved with them. I'm sure most of them weren't even doing that intentionally; I just read a lot into things and, given the fundamental dynamic of captains/first mate, if authors don't actively try to address it I'll probably have an issue with it.

What would have made you like it?

I think there's still potential for me to ship it after season 2, depending on what happens. I'd need Izzy to learn to be independent from Ed and I'd need Ed and Stede to undergo a lot of character development, but if that happens I think I could get really into steddyhands (in theory; all the issues I mentioned having with fics still stand). I just need Ed and Stede to be less annoying to me and Izzy to be able to meet them as his own person who's actively choosing to be there, not just Ed's first mate.

Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

I do absolutely see the appeal; you have the canon love story of Ed and Stede, the "long-time married couple on the verge of divorce fixes their relationship" thing with Ed and Izzy, and the enemies-to-lovers of Stede and Izzy, plus the pretty much completely unexplored dynamic of all three of them together. There's a lot of potential there, even if I personally am not that interested in seeing it realized.