#to the point where someone even sharing a fic of mine out of affection or complimenting me makes me. uncomfortable i guess.

[jakesduskwood]

even statues crumble if they're made to wait

Pairing: Jake x Fem!MC

Genre: Post-Episode 10 Duskwood, Post-Episode 1 Moonvale

Words: 8,916

Summary: It's been three months since the explosion in the mine. Three months since Hannah was found. And MC's accepted that Jake is never coming back. When she gets roped into another missing person's case, it makes for the perfect distraction. Jake is dead. It's fine. That is, until she finds herself on the phone with Alan Bloomgate who says he has something to show her. But it's fine. Jake is dead.

Until he's not.

EPISODE-1 MOONVALE SPOILERS AHEAD (MAYBE)!

[ A/N: Hello! :)

I know it's been a while since I've done this, but I finished Moonvale Episode 1 and if you've seen the ending (and used its Duskwood code), you know what happened and how excited I was to receive that bit of Duskwood. So, I took it and ran with it, and out came this extremely long fic. I did not proofread this as it took me literally almost 12 hours to write so it is completely and 100% me and my love for Jake and I hope you love it.

Side note: I suck with anything related to timelines, so I made one up on my own. I know Episode 1 of Moonvale takes place over the course of a day or two, but for the purpose of this fic, it made sense to make it longer, so it's not a typo, or me losing my mind, it's just the way my brain processed this.

Enjoy! :) ]

It’s been three months since the explosion in the mine.

Three months since Richy had been killed. Three months since Hannah was rescued. Three months since I had last spoken to Thomas or Cleo or Lilly or…or Jessy. I didn’t blame her then and I don’t blame her now. Any of them, really. I didn’t share the bond they had with each other. I wasn’t from Duskwood. It didn’t matter that we’d experienced a tragedy together—and yes, perhaps them more than me, but I loved Richy too. I had lost Richy too. And Jake—

But mostly, I think they just wanted to forget. To move on. They didn’t want to remember that their friend had been capable of…of that. And I was a constant reminder of that to them. So I understood why we didn’t necessarily talk anymore.

The one person I did keep in contact with from Duskwood, oddly enough, other than the occasional update from Alan Bloomgate, was Dan. We weren’t best friends or anything, but he allowed me to check in on our friends in a way that I didn’t know how to do with anyone else. Maybe because I thought he was the least affected among them. I knew he cared about Hannah, but he wasn’t to her what Thomas or Cleo or Lilly were. And he wasn’t to Richy what Jessy had been.

I’d learned from him that Thomas and Hannah had broken up. There was no bad blood, but Thomas hadn’t quite figured out how to accept the things he’d learned about his girlfriend when she’d been gone, and Hannah hadn’t quite figured out how to re-trust someone after Richy. Even if that person was Thomas. But I’d hoped they would find their way back to each other in the end.

I thought about reaching out to Jessy every once in a while—even just as an apology for everything that had happened. I’m sorry that Hannah was found at the expense of Richy. I’m sorry that he did this to you. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner. We should have. We should have. We should have. I miss you. But I never send it. I’m not all that sure she’d respond anyway.

Cleo and I were never all that close. She has her best friend back, so I think she’s probably as okay as she can be. Helping Hannah find a new kind of normal in a time where her childhood friend had kidnapped her in order to prove a point. I don’t know how you come back from that—I don’t know how you come back from knowing that you killed somebody at all.

I hadn’t found the courage to ask if somebody had told Hannah about Jake.

Not that I think it would matter anyway. I hadn’t heard from him since before the explosion in the mine, which was, like I said—three months ago. I waited the appropriate amount of time—twenty-five days—before I broke down and concluded that maybe he hadn’t survived. Which just piled a shit-ton of guilt onto my shoulders because it was supposed to be me in that mine. He had gone in place of me and now he was dead.

It was the only explanation that made sense. I was used to Jake disappearing for days at a time, but never as long as he had been now. And he didn’t seem like the type to tell me he loved me and then leave without a single explanation. Not unless he had to. But it had been three months and as much as I missed him, as much as my chest ached with the thought that we would never eat Chinese food out of shitty motels and have that on-the-run ending we talked about, I had accepted that he wasn’t coming back.

I wonder if he had known about Richy or if he had died still thinking Michael Hanson was the one who had kidnapped Hannah. I wonder if his last thoughts were of me. Maybe it’s selfish, but I kind of hope they were, because I’m pretty sure I’ll think about him for the rest of my life.

I wonder what it would have felt like to run my hands through his hair. To kiss him. To spend every waking moment with him and know it was because I loved him. Because I would have. Talking to Jake became about more than just finding Hannah. It became a part of my day I looked forward to more than anything else. He confided in me in a way that told me he never had with anyone, maybe not even Hannah, and I needed that from somebody. I needed somebody to trust in me the way that Jake did. I needed somebody to love me the way that Jake did.

It was strange—and maybe a little ironic—the thought that something so beautiful could come out of something so tragic.

Anyway, my point is: it’s been a long couple of months. Of thinking about my friends. Of thinking about Jake. Of wondering if I should have done things differently. I should have gone to Duskwood to help. Not even with the mine, but sooner. I could have. I could’ve gone when Jessy was attacked on the way home. I could’ve gone when the group made plans to cut out of town and hide away in the house Richy had found. Selfishly, I should have. In that moment, when they were settled around the fire and Lilly called me, I had never remembered wanting anything more. I should have grabbed Jake—metaphorically, maybe even literally—and rode it out with them to the end.

I don’t stop missing them after three months. Of wishing things could have been different. Wishing I could have done more. But exactly ninety-five days after the explosion in the mine, seventy days since I had accepted that Jake was never coming back, twenty-two days since I had last heard from anybody from Duskwood (Dan included), my phone dings with a new message.

And the cycle starts all over again.

It’s somebody named Eric, who claims he needs my help to find his friend Adam, who disappeared while he was waiting for a ride in someplace called Redlog Pines. And much like with Duskwood, I have never heard of Redlog, and the case reminds me way too much of Thomas’ first message to me, so much that it makes my chest ache, but I can’t say no because there’s somebody missing, and if I’d say no the first time, God knows where Hannah would be.

So, I say yes, and I help out where I can, and Eric decides he needs to bring about four more friends in on his little plan and I try my best to stay emotionally unattached because I remember everything that happened the last time and I can’t go through that again. I offer up information when I can and keep my words short and careful because I’m not ready to get attached to somebody else I know I might never meet.

I know how this ends.

Two days in, Ash, one of Eric’s friends, brings up my Duskwood past and the unhealed wound I’ve been trying to mend breaks open again. She asks about Richy, and about the mine, and then because I’m me and I can’t help myself, I tell her about Jake. She tells me the news never mentioned another body and I shove that thought to the back of my head because hoping for something that will never come true will kill me.

Four days into Adam’s disappearance, and the police not giving a shit—as Charlie, somebody who reminds me far too much of Richy for comfort, points out—my phone beeps with an incoming call from somebody I haven’t spoken to in a while.

“Go for [MC].” I answer my phone.

Ever since Hannah had been found in the mine and Jake had…you know, my phone had been more silent than I’d gotten used to. Until this new case. But even that—it was only a few days old and I didn’t want to go down the same path with them that I did with my friends in Duskwood. We didn’t really know each other that long, sure—even though sometimes it’d felt like it—but it felt like I’d finally been a part of something. Like, I had found these people who had chosen me for me.

And originally, maybe they had. Maybe they’d had every intention of keeping me around, but then Richy was the Man Without A Face and Alan Bloomgate had rescued Hannah and nothing was the same as it had been when we’d met each other. We knew too many secrets about each other by the time the town settled. Secrets we would have to take to the grave.

Or maybe I’m losing my mind a bit and I had really only been a means to an end.

Either way.

“Alan?” I raise my voice when there’s nothing but breathing on the other end of the line. “Did you mean to call me?”

His tone is clipped. “I found something.”

“You found something.” I repeat.

My heart clenches. For all I know, it might fall into my stomach. As far I know, from watching the news, from what Ash told me, Jake’s body was never found. Richy’s was. Or what was left of him to find, anyway. I had assumed that there just hadn’t been enough of Jake left. The thought left me nauseous, but it was better than hoping for something I knew I could never have.

“I’m sending it to your phone now.” He responds. “Let me know what you think of this.”

And then he hangs up.

That was a riveting conversation, I think as my phone dings with a message. I do my best to ignore my other messages—contacts from Duskwood I’m still not ready to acknowledge—and click Alan Bloomgate. He sent me a video that looks like—oh God.

Immediately, I’m overcome with emotion as an all-too-familiar forest pops up on my phone. It’s a video of Alan’s bodycam footage. He’s searching the Duskwood forest. A forest I’ve seen too many times in the background of other video calls.

I watch as he stumbles upon an object that’s too dark to make out at first. When he gets closer, it’s clear that it’s a backpack. It’s simple. Black. Nothing about it that screams this is mine and I left it here about anybody in particular. You stupid, stupid idiot, I tell my heart when it rattles against my chest in hope. He’s dead.

Alan stands and treks away from the backpack—I want to scream at him to go back, to open it and look through it and tell me if it’s what my heart aches to believe, but I can’t, because this is a video and I’m simply watching with wide eyes, waiting for…for something. But then. But then, he moves further into the forest and I watch as he stumbles upon an object that makes my knees tremble and tears rush to my eyes and my hands shake. A black hoodie. It looks like it’s been through hell, with holes scattered up the sleeves and dirt cakes into the hood, but it’s unmistakably his.

And then—Alan lifts the hood and picks up something that makes me sink to my knees with a sob that wracks my entire frame. Because I’m staring at Jake’s mask. The mask he doesn’t go anywhere without. The mask that protects him. And so my relief is short-lived, because I realize that even if he’s alive—which seems like a very big possibility at this point—he’s alive without the things that he needs to survive.

And then the anger kicks in. Because if he’s been alive, on his own, for three months—why has he not contacted me? Unless he survived the mine but he didn’t survive the after. But that didn’t make any sense. So, okay, he wasn’t dead. But that didn’t make any sense either. He told me he wouldn’t let them catch him. Because catching that meant he would be apart from me. Did something happen that prevented him from being able to reach out and tell me he was at least okay? A quick text that said didn’t die in the explosion in the mine, you don’t need to mourn me, by the way, going off radar for another year. Did he think I would have given up on him?

I wipe my eyes and shoot a message to Alan.

ME: Recently?? Did nobody search the forests before?      

ALAN: Searched the forests for what, [MC]? The logical assumption seemed to be that if anybody was inside the mine when Richy set the fire, they would have perished alongside him. Officers were stationed outside every known entrance and exit. Besides, after the story you and your friends spun around this town, do you think anybody would have gone back into its forests?

ME: But it’s possible?

ALAN: I would say these items had been there for some time. But I would say it is likely he ditched them when he fled the mine, yes.

Another sob tears through my throat. Jake is alive. I don’t know quite what that means for us as of now, but I know it’s the best news I’ve heard since Hannah was found. Jake is alive. He’s out there somewhere. And even if it’s been three months, and even if I’m a little bit mad at him right now, I know that if he was here, I would throw my arms around his neck and hold on to him until someone dragged me off, and even then—I would fight kicking and screaming.

I close out of my messages with Alan and pull up a conversation I haven’t had the heart to look at in quite some time.

ME: Jake’s alive.

LILLY: …

LILLY: Have you spoken to him?

ME: Alan called. He found some of Jake’s things in Duskwood. I don’t know a lot of details. But I know he made it out of the mine.

Lilly types for a long while, but she doesn’t respond. I don’t take it personally. I think it’s probably hard for her to be happy that her brother’s okay while also trying to accept that her sister may never be okay again. Her sister, who had once-upon-a-time been kind-of-sort-of in love with their brother she didn’t know she had. I think that would probably mess with any family’s heads. And on top of all that, you throw in manslaughter and a kidnapping. I wouldn’t wish anybody, not even my worst enemy, to have had to go through what the Donforts had.

When it becomes adamant that Lilly isn’t going to respond, I start scrolling through messages with the rest of the group in Duskwood. I click on Jessy. I’m here if you need me. That had been the last thing I sent to her, a couple of days after Richy’s death. She hadn’t responded. I click out of Jessy’s contact and click on Thomas’ instead. Thank you for everything. That had been his last message to me after we found Hannah. I’d liked it. I hadn’t expected at the time it would be the last thing we’d ever say to each other. I click out of Thomas’ and click on Richy. So, you want to turn yourself in? I’d asked. That was before he called me. Before he lit a match and burned himself and the mine to the ground. Some people would call that heroic. I mostly call him a coward.

I click on Jake’s name. It’s been a while since I read messages between the two of us. Maybe before I had accepted—thought—he was dead. In that twenty-five-day period when I’d hoped with all I’d had that he would come back. I love you. That was the last message he sent me. I’d responded with I love you too, Jake. Then, four days later: Are you okay? A week later: Jake, please, you’re starting to scare me. I know you said you would contact when you could, but it’s been a week. After twenty-five days, when I had finally accepted our fate, I’d sent one final message: I hope you know that I love you, and I will always care about you, but I think it’s time for me to move on. I’m so sorry that I sent you into the mine. It should have been me. And I will probably feel the guilt from that for the rest of my life. Thank you for everything. Take care of yourself, wherever you are.

After that, I had closed out of our messages and hadn’t looked back. Partly because I couldn’t bear the pain of it. It felt like I had given up on him. I hadn’t—if I had thought for a second that he was alive, if I knew then what I know now, I would have never sent that message. But holding out hope for somebody who I thought was a ghost at the time? That was slowly killing me.

It’s only then that I notice the screen flickering. Much like the way it used to whenever Jake would hack into my phone. I don’t think he’s much in the mood to be hacking right now, but somehow, I know it’s him. When had he done this? Recently? If I had opened our messages, would I have seen this ten—twenty—even fifty days ago? It hadn’t looked like this the last time I texted him. Did he see my last message about needing to move on? Was that why he hadn’t reached out to tell me that he was okay? Because he thought I was moving on happily without him?

No, my brain supplies. He wouldn’t. He would reach out anyway, because he knows how much the thought of him not being okay would have destroyed you.

The screen flickers once more and then a message pops up, bright and blue-tinted and clear as day on my phone.

[MC]

I WILL FIND YOU

And the world around me shifts.

--------------------------------------------------

Maybe it sounds crazy, considering I’ve never seen his face before, but I always thought that if I’d ran into Jake one day, maybe on the street or at one of those motels he stayed at or maybe even in Duskwood, surrounded by all our friends, I would know it was him. I would, because it’s him, and it’s me, and we’re the only two people who understand each other quite the way we do.

I still believe that.

I believe it when I book my flight to Duskwood (or rather, twenty miles outside of town, which is the closest airport). I believe it when I board the airplane and find a seat next to a mother with her screaming child and when I shoot off a quick text to Eric to let him know I’ll be MIA for the next few hours, but to message me if he needs anything—and I think about how much easier this case would probably be to solve if we had Jake.

Maybe it would have been harder to find Hannah without me, but I know damn well they would’ve never found her without Jake.

Dan picks me up from the airport. I haven’t told the others yet. Something about it felt off—like I shouldn’t message them and say hey, I know we haven’t spoken in a while, but I’m booking a flight to look into why my maybe-slash-not-really boyfriend left his belongings in a forest we really wish we could forget about, and by the way, can I crash at your place?

It’s quiet on the car ride back into town. I’m looking through my messages from Eric and the group from Redlog Pines and thinking about how I’m Duskwood with this group and I want so badly to laugh because it’s ironic, but Dan wouldn’t understand. He might just call me crazy. Better yet, he would ask how I manage to get myself into these situations, and really, I don’t have an answer for him.

“How have you been?” I ask, just to break the tension, as Charlie, in my messages, tries to persuade his friends to head back into that creepy cave in the middle of the forest. He’s going to get someone killed, I think.

Dan looks over at me. “Are you still with Hackerman?”

My chest squeezes. “His name is Jake, Dan. And we were never really together.”

“Hm.” He nods like he doesn’t quite believe me. “You already know mostly everything that’s been happening here. Thomas and Hannah called it quits. They say it was some mutual decision, but it’s hard to find them in the same room together. Jessy hasn’t been out with us since. I think we remind her too much of Richy. The group’s all changed.”

“And you?” I ask.

He gives me a cheshire-like grin that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’m always the same.”

We make it to Duskwood just as the sun’s going down. Much too late for me to try and trek through the forest and retrace the steps Jake might have taken that night. Not that I think it would help give me any clues as to where he might have gone, but mostly because I wonder if it will make me feel closer to him. We’ve never been in the same place before, and even if he’s not there now—he once was.

“Can you drop me at the police station?”

Dan blinks. “The police station.”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“We answered their questions for weeks, [MC]. I don’t think anything you have to tell them at this point is going to help. The investigation’s closed. Everybody knows Richy did it. He died with the fire in the mine. Everybody’s trying to move on from that.” He works his jaw. “Did you come here to open old wounds after all this time?”

I try not to show the hurt look on my face. “This isn’t about Richy. Look, Alan called me. He asked if I could look at some things. I figured it was better for me to do it in person. That’s it. Nothing to do with Richy. Nothing to do with Jessy. Nothing to do with you.”

He sighs, and I’m not entirely sure he’s going to abide by my wishes until we pull in front of a tiny building—tinier than most—that says Duskwood Police on the sign. Duskwood must not have that much crime. Well, not until this, I suppose.

“Thank you.” I tell him as I reach over to undo my seatbelt and climb out of the car. “This is a nice ride, by the way.”

He raises a hand in some mock-salute. “Need me to pick you up?”

“Nah.” I shake my head. “Think I’ll explore the town for a little bit.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs and then he’s off.

I square my shoulders and take a deep breath before opening the door to the police station. It wasn’t like Alan asked me to come down here. He hadn’t. Even during the investigation into Richy’s death and Hannah’s kidnapping, when he questioned us, he never asked me to come to Duskwood. We’d done way too many video calls and phone calls and at one point, I had asked if he thought it would be easier for me to come to Duskwood, to which he responded back, are you ready for that?

No, I hadn’t been. I’m not even so sure I was now. But knowing that Jake was alive, that here was the last place was, I had to try.

“Can I help you?” The woman at the front desk asks.

I clear my throat. “I was wondering if I could speak to Alan Bloomgate. I’m one of—I was involved in the Hannah Donfort case. My name is [MC].”

Her eyes widen. “Give me a moment.” She stands and heads to some back office—which looks to me more like a closet—and then returns with a clipped smile. “He’ll be right out.”

Apparently, she isn’t lying, because not two minutes later, Alan is stepping out from the same door and staring me down. I hold his gaze and hope it says that I’m not here to argue. I will tell him my truth, but only my truth, not Hannah’s, not Jake’s, not anybody else’s.

“I was wondering when I would see you.” He says.

I shrug one shoulder. “Isn’t a few months later better than never?”

“Let’s go into my office.” He says, and leads me around the desk and back into the closet space he had come out of. He sits behind the desk and motions for me to take a seat opposite him. “I’m just going to guess you’re not here to talk about Miss Donfort.”

“I want to see them.” I tell him. “His things. I want to see them for myself. And whatever you want from me in return, I’ll give to you.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game here, [MC].”

“He isn’t a game to me.” I snap back and then sit back and try to relax. “I appreciate that you called me. It’s—I helped you find Hannah. I would do it again. Even with knowing the things that we do now, I would do it all again. That’s how much that group means to me. That’s how much he means to me. I’m not asking you to break any rules or to lie for him or to—to let him hide in your basement for the next five years. I’m just asking you to show me what you found.”

He stares me down for a moment. Then, he sighs, says “wait here for a minute” and disappears to another room. When he comes back, it’s with an evidence bag in his hand filled with the objects I saw on his bodycam footage. My breath hitches in my throat.

“I can’t let you touch them.” He says as he lays them in front of me.

I stare into the eyes of the mask. “Did you tell anybody that he’s alive?”

“I don’t know that he’s alive,” is all the answer he gives, which is an answer to my question. I slide my gaze down to the black hoodie, to the dirtied sleeves and muddy hood, and think about the fact that Jake wore this. I’m so close to him.

And yet I’ve never been further away from him.

“Thank you.” I tell him. “For—for this. And for listening to me about Hannah. If you hadn’t, I—I don’t know what would have happened. How much longer he would have gone on for. If he would have ever stopped.”

Alan’s silent for a minute. Then, he clears his throat. “You know, it was strange to me. Both Hannah and yourself swore to me that neither of you knew the other.”

“I don’t.” I swear.

It was one of the (albeit many) things that didn’t make sense to me. How Hannah got a hold of my number. How she sent it to Thomas. She’d told Alan she hadn’t really remembered texting him my number at all.

“I believe you.” He reassures. “I just think it’s strange. One mistake, if you can call it that, and you throw yourself into a missing persons case to help a stranger.”

“They’re not strangers.” Even though Hannah is kind of still a stranger.

“But they were.” Alan reasons. “You had no reason to say yes to helping Thomas. I doubt anybody would have held it against you if you turned the other way. But you decided to follow this until the end. To make sure they found Hannah. And you care about them. Maybe that’s why I find that I’m more lenient with you than maybe I should be. Why you’re sitting across from me right now calling the shots. Why I’m not asking you about the hacker.”

“I wouldn’t tell you if you did.” I look him in the eye so he knows I’m telling the truth.

He returns my gaze. “Maybe that’s the other reason.”

“Hm.” I acknowledge before I turn my gaze away—from him, from the objects that I know belong to Jake and it takes everything in me not to snatch them up and run. “Well. Thank you for allowing me to steal some of your time. For letting me—” I cut myself off before I say something that makes me break down in a fit of tears in front of him. “—just thank you.”

Leaving the station is easier than coming in. I’m still not any closer to knowing where Jake is than I was when I arrived here, but there’s a comfort in knowing he walked these streets. I wonder what he would think if he knew I was here. He hadn’t wanted me to come to Duskwood when everything was happening…but now that it was over, would he be happy that I was here? That I had come to Duskwood to piece together where he might have gone? Would he track my location and come to find me and…or was I grasping at straws?

It felt like I had just gotten him back. Not really, not entirely…but knowing that he was alive, that he was out there somewhere, maybe thinking of me and looking for ways to come back, to live the life we talked about when he asked me if I was sure…that was worth it. The thought that we could maybe someday have that—even if it was a twenty percent chance.

I check my phone again to see a new message from Ash. She’s asking me if I’ve heard from Charlie in the last few hours. Apparently, he’s AWOL, and I want to help, really, but…it doesn’t really feel like that’s where I am at the moment. Not just physically—obviously—but mentally. We got lucky with Hannah. And that was really only because we had Jake. Adam didn’t have a Jake. Or…maybe he did and I just hadn’t met him yet. But I already had a Jake and I didn’t want another one.

Maybe—if I found him, I could convince him to help. That was a big maybe. Not because I thought Jake would say no. He would say yes to anything I asked of him. The maybe was whether or not I could find him. More likely, the maybe was whether or not he would find me.

Three months ago, I would have been able to come to Duskwood and have no shortage of things I wanted to do and people I wanted to see. Now, as I stand outside Duskwood’s police station, I feel nothing but loneliness. Nobody knows I’m here. I could pass Thomas on the street and he wouldn’t even know it. I could run into Jessy at the library and she would walk by me without even a second thought. Why would they? I hadn’t told them I was here.

So, with nothing left to do, I walked. Toward the town center. Toward the library that Jessy showed me on our walk through Duskwood. Toward the Rainbow Café where I knew that Cleo and Hannah had spent a lot of their time. Toward the Black Swan. Toward—

Ah, what the hell.

I had nothing better to do and The Aurora seemed like a great place to drown my sorrows. To think about my next steps. To figure out—now that I was in Duskwood—what I planned to do. The thing about Jake being so secretive (and on the run) was that I couldn’t retrace his steps. I wasn’t able to ask if anyone had seen him. One, because he would make sure nobody had. And two, because three months was a long time to forget somebody’s face if you didn’t know who you were looking for.

I pull open the door to the bar and step inside. Immediately, I’m hit with the stench of whiskey and a handful of chatter. Duskwood’s a small town. And The Aurora definitely proves it. The bartenders move melodically around each other, serving patrons on the other side of the bar. If you walk down further, there’s a handful of tables.

And dead in the center is a table with my friends. Or, some of them. Dan and Cleo and Lilly. Could I still call them my friends? Ex-friends, maybe? Acquaintances? I didn’t know what they were. Or how to address them. It wasn’t like we had gotten into a fight. We didn’t stop talking for any reason other than that we did. We stopped talking.

I make a beeline for the bar to avoid a confrontation and plant myself on one of the stools. One of the bartenders—a girl cute with bleach blonde hair and brown Bambi eyes—asks what I want and I channel my inner Dan to order a whiskey—neat.

Looking over my shoulder, I focus on the table of them. On Lilly, who’s smiling at something Cleo said. On Dan, who’s the only one of them who actually knows I’m here. But even he’s focused on the conversation they’re having. It’s strange—to see Dan a part of something I’m not sure he would have been before. It’s nice.

“[MC]?”

I turn my head away from the table of my friends and focus my attention across the bar on someone I should’ve expected to see. “Phil.”

“I thought I recognized your voice from when we talked.” He smiles. “I wasn’t sure, but I saw you staring longingly at them—” He nods towards Dan and Cleo and Lilly. “—and I knew. What brings you around here? I expected you to show up maybe a few months ago, but by now, I thought you’d moved on without us.”

I was tired of the words move on. Like I’d had a choice. Like the people from this town might open their arms and welcome me back into their lives. So I’d been part of the group who’d saved Hannah Donfort. So had a lot of people. It didn’t make me special and everyone here knew it.

I offer him a smile in return. “I’m looking for somebody.”

“Anybody I know?” He asks.

I shake my head. “Nah. At least nobody you would recognize.” I pause. “How’s Jessy?”

“She’s—Jessy.” He answers, like that is an answer. “I don’t know if she’ll ever really be okay with the way things happened with Richy. I wouldn’t expect her to. Obviously. But I don’t know. I think I just thought she would have gone back to her normal life by now. And then I remember that most of her life revolved around him. He was her best friend. She worked for him. And I’m trying to be patient about that. But—” He shakes his head. “Maybe you should talk to her.”

“She doesn’t know I’m in town.”

“Okay.” He hums. “So, you’re not in town for my sister. And you’re not in town for your group of friends because they’re over there and you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. There’s always Hannah, but I don’t think you knew her that well. Or at all. Would I be right to assume this is about a certain hacker who helped to find Hannah?”

“He didn’t help find Hannah.” I defend. “He was the entire reason we found Hannah. I would have never been able to do it on my own. Even with the others’ help. He’s the only reason we found out about—” I pause before I say something I maybe shouldn’t. “It doesn’t matter. He’s the only reason we found her. Everything I did was just dumb luck.”

“That wasn’t what the news said.” A voice cuts in and I turn my attention from Phil to focus on the stranger that slides into the seat beside me. Not too close—a couple inches away. I don’t recognize him. I don’t know him. But I don’t know every person in Duskwood. Maybe a total of like nine or ten. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But I heard you had a lot to do with finding Hannah Donfort. The news said you were some kind of hero.”

I offer him a tight smile. “That’s nice of them. But…if they knew my—friend—knew what he did to find her, I don’t think I would be as much of a hero as everybody says.”

“That’s noble.” He says, eyes meeting mine, and it strikes me at once how handsome he is. He has dark hair. Bright green eyes. Focus, [MC]. I scold. You have a…a someone.

My phone buzzes.

ERIC SENT A PHOTO.

ERIC: What do you make of this?

I sigh and click on the photo. It’s of—some object. Much like the one that was addressed to me on the envelope in Adam’s glove compartment. The image is a bit different—but I don’t know enough about what it means to have an answer as to why.

ME: Was this one addressed to me?

ERIC: Nope. Ash.

“Are you okay?” Phil asks.

I clear my throat. “I’m a popular person—apparently.” A thought strikes. “Have you ever heard of a place called Redlog Pines?”

Phil frowns. “No.”

I turn to look at the stranger. “You?”

“Redlog Pines is a small town about two hundred miles north of Duskwood.” He answers. “Known for their wooded forests, much like Duskwood.”

“Why are you looking into a place with forests as creepy as ours?” Phil asks, incredulously. “Didn’t you get enough of that with Hannah’s case?”

“Yeah.” I sigh. “You would think.”

“Hey, [MC]!”

I wince at the sound of Dan’s voice. Shooting Phil a look that screams please help me to which he shakes his head amusedly, I turn and plaster on a fake smile as I take in the shocked looks on Cleo and Lilly’s faces. I should have known better than to come to The Aurora and talk to Phil when the three of them were having a conversation across the room. I should have known they would sooner or later see me. I just hoped it was later.

“Hey.” I hop off my stool and make my way across the bar to them. “It’s, uh, fancy seeing the three of you here.”

“What are you doing here?” Cleo asks.

“I haven’t really figured that out.” My eyes meet Lilly’s. “It sounds crazy to say it out loud. But I was hoping that—I’m not sure if Lilly told you—”

“That Jake’s alive.” Cleo nods. “None of us ever really thought he wasn’t.”

I don’t think she means it as a dig—but it still feels like one. Like she’s saying you gave up on him you gave up on him you gave up on him even though she’s not and she didn’t really know him and the only person I can talk to at this table who even might understand is Lilly and even—Jake didn’t confide in her the way he did me.

“Right.” I acknowledge. “So I thought that maybe if I came here, I could trace his steps from when he was here and—I haven’t really thought that far ahead. It’s not like I thought he left me any clues in the forest or anything like that. I don’t think he expected me to be here. He hadn’t wanted me to be the last time we talked. But that was before everything happened.”

Lilly’s eyes track behind me. “Does Jake still have Nymos on your phone?”

“Uh.” I furrow my brows. “I think so. I hadn’t heard from him in a while, but I went back and read through our messages after I talked to Alan and…my phone glitched, like it used to when Jake had hacked it. And then this message appeared on my screen.”

“And by chance, can Nymos track your location?”

“What—” I shake my head. “Maybe. I don’t think I ever really asked him. It didn’t seem necessary at the time.”

“Uh huh.” She focuses on me once more. “Let’s say, for one minute, that Jake has access to Nymos who has access to your location.”

Cleo must catch onto something I’m not sure of. “Jake didn’t want you here.”

“Uh, thank you?”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” She waves me off. “He didn’t want you in Duskwood. He had been adamant about that when we were talking about the mine. That’s why he went. If you showed up in Duskwood—”

“Nymos would have alerted him.” Dan finishes.

“Okay…” I’m not entirely sure I’m on the same page as them. “So—you think that Jake found out when I came to Duskwood.”

“Correct.” Lilly beams like she just solved life’s greatest mystery.

“And you think he would—come find me?”

She smiles sympathetically at me—like I’m the world’s biggest idiot for not realizing what she has been trying to say sooner. “I think he already has.”

“You think Jake’s in Duskwood.” I deadpan.

“[MC].��� Cleo grabs my shoulders and turns me around. “We think he’s in this bar.”

Stranger, as I had nicknamed him—AKA the guy sitting beside me at the bar, with Phil and Redlog Pines (which he probably only knew about because of me) and the whole Hannah being kidnapped and not taking any of the credit thing—was looking back at me. So was Phil. Like they thought I was the crazy one. Like it would’ve been so hard for him to look and me and say it’s me or anything that might have clued me into the fact that—

“Jake?” I whisper, because I’ve lost quite a bit of sleep over the past couple of months and I’m not one hundred percent sure what—or who—I’m seeing is real. “Are you here?”

He tilts his head and smiles at me. Actually smiles. A bit shyly, like it’s something he’s not used to doing, but maybe like it’s something he could get used to. And I think about how terrible I probably look right now because I’m not wearing makeup and my hair is tousled from constantly pulling at it and my clothes are wrinkled from the plane and the police station and I look like a mess. But our relationship has never been about looks. Clearly. I didn’t even know the person I’d been talking to until Lilly and Cleo and even Dan pointed out the obvious.

“If I—” I close my eyes and open them again. Nope. Still there. “I need you to still be there by the time I reach you because it’s been a—” I sniffle. “—it’s been a rough few months and I don’t think I could handle you disappearing again.”

He stands from the stool he was sitting on and shuffles his feet. Like he’s not quite sure where he’s supposed to stand. If he thinks about moving, I’ll tackle him onto the floor of The Aurora and then apologize to Phil later. It feels like everything I wanted is right here in front of me. And I’m scared to death that it’s not real.

“What’s one thing you would take with you if you were stranded on an island?”

His smile stretches. “My computer.”

And that—that’s what breaks me. I think I might start blubbering like an idiot but I don’t remember the time it takes for me to cross the measly twenty feet between us. All I remember is grabbing his black hoodie—because of course—and dragging him to me. I don’t kiss him, despite how much I want to, because I don’t want our first kiss to be tainted with my snot and tears. Instead, I bury my face in his collarbone and wrap my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life.

Because I can. Because he isn’t dead.

“Y—You’re here.” I pull back and cup his face with my hands. “How are you here?”

“You came to Duskwood.” He responds, and then—hesitantly—he presses his lips to my forehead in a kiss. “Alan called you.”

“He found your things in the forest.” I whisper back. “He said they’d been there a while. The police hadn’t searched the forest because they assume you died in the mine.”

“They aren’t looking for me here.” He confirms. “I didn’t expect it to take so long for them to find my belongings, but I anticipated that you would find out. At the time, it wasn’t safe for me to reach out and contact you. They kept on my trail for a while before they assumed I died in the mine with Richy.”

“Why didn’t you contact me then?” I ask. “Is it because of what I last messaged you? I didn’t mean it—I swear, I thought you were dead. If I had known you were alive, I would have waited, however long it took. I wasn’t trying to give up on you.”

“Hey.” He places both hands on either side of my face. “I know. I know that, [MC]. That was never why I didn’t reach out to you. I know you said you wanted this life with me. But I didn’t want that for you. But I was selfish. I couldn’t let you go. So I was trying to find a way to make both of those things true. But I was always coming back to you.”

“And did you?”

“Come back to you?” He asks.

I sniffle. “Find a way to make both of those things true.”

“Not entirely.” He admits. “Nymos alerted me you had boarded a plane headed in the direction of Duskwood and I—” He shook his head. “I knew I would find you here.”

“You could have found me sooner.”

He lets go of my face and he feels like he takes my skin with him. “It wasn’t that easy.”

“It could have been.” I demand.

I’m angry again. Now that I know he’s alive and okay and that he could have found me, I’m angry that he didn’t. I told him I would choose that life with him. Over and over and over. He didn’t need to make the decision for me. He didn’t need to try and protect me. And yes, maybe the fact that he did makes my heart flutter a tiny little bit, but that’s besides the point.

“I told you before you left me.” I tell him and I’m aware it sounds like we’ve been in a relationship for five years and I’m aware that everybody in here is watching and listening in on our conversation and they probably all know we’re who we are, two people involved in helping to find the kidnapped Hannah Donfort, and maybe that’s all we’ll ever be in this town. But I would rather be the girl who found Hannah Donfort in Duskwood with him than be me anywhere else. “You told me you would let me go with you.”

“That was before I told you I loved you.”

My heart skips a beat. It screams I love you I love you I love you back, but I say— “What does that have to do with anything?”

He looks somewhat amused. Like he knows I would never hold it against him. It’s clear to both of us that I wouldn’t because even though I’m glaring up at him with my furrowed eyebrows and my lips pouted, I’m still pressed tightly against him. His hands—even though they’ve moved from my face—are now resting on my hips. Pulling my tighter to him. There’s no space in between us. If it was up to me, I’m pretty sure there never would be again.

“[MC].” He says, and oh god I wish he would say my name every day for the rest of his life. “Have I—in the short time we have known each other—ever struck you as the type of person who says I love you? But with you…” His words are a whisper against my lips. “It’s easy to fall back into old emotions with you.”

“I want to be angry with you.” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.” I agree. “But I might be if you don’t kiss me.”

He brought one finger underneath my chin and tilted it up until our lips were separated by a fraction of an inch. My eyelids fluttered. I didn’t care that everyone in here was about to see just how much Jake meant to be. I didn’t care because I had waited too long for this. And then—just as I’m leaning toward him to press our lips together, he whispers— “[MC]?”

“Hm.” I acknowledge.

“Who’s Eric?”

My eyelids crack open and I shove at his chest. “That’s what you’re worried about right now? Here I am, in front of you, covered in snot and tears and who-knows-what-else because you’re here right now, and you’re worried about some guy I don’t even know?”

“Who’s Eric?” He repeats.

“Ugh.” I run my hands through my hair and take a step back. “I don’t know. He’s the other side of Thomas or whatever you want to call him. If we lived in a different town.” I glare back at him and try not to admit that I think his jealous side is a little cute. “He messaged me. Thought I picked up his friend from some parking lot and I didn’t, but his friend sent him my number, and it was Hannah all over again. I’m trying to help them.”

“This Adam has been sending you a lot of videos.”

“You know I hate when you hack my phone.” I complain, even though I really don’t. Even though I had prayed for him to help me with this case. “I really don’t know Adam. Like—even less than I know Eric.

“But you know Eric.”

“For like a week.” I reassure. “He added me to this group chat with him and like three other friends of his. They’re desperate to find Adam who has apparently dropped off the face of the earth and I don’t know what to do. I had you with Hannah’s case. And you knew her. And they—” I look over my shoulder at Cleo and Dan and Lilly, who are pretending like they’re not listening in even though I know and Jake knows they are. “—they knew her. And obviously Adam’s friends must know him but I don’t and you don’t and there is no Jake in Redlog Pines.”

“I don’t trust him.” He shakes his head. “Any of them.”

I laugh. “Jake, you didn’t trust half the people in this bar when we first started talking.” I look over at Phil and then Dan. “It doesn’t mean they committed a crime. If I had backed off when you asked me to help you find Hannah, we may never have.”

“I thought that was all thanks to me.” He sounds smug, like that little smiley face he loved to annoy me with (AKA make me fall in love with him). “Did he flirt with you?”

“No.” I deadpan. “I think he was focused on his missing friend.”

“I was focused on my missing sister.” He shoots back.

I close my mouth. Alright. He has a point. But I wasn’t flirting with Eric. He was focused on finding Adam and I was focused on mourning—and then finding—Jake. Maybe it felt like Eric and I were two sides of the same coin. Maybe that’s why I agreed to help him. Because I didn’t want to happen to him what I thought had happened to Jake—to me.

“You’re being ridiculous.” I say instead. “How do you think I could ever entertain the idea of being with somebody else when for the past three months—more than that if you count the time we have actually had together—I’ve been focused on you? On discussing Hannah with you and then talking to you about anything and everything and then worrying about you and then hating you a little for convincing me you should me the one to go into the mine and then mourning you when it was hard to even think about you and then finding you?”

His eyes are wide. I think I’ve rendered him speechless. Which—serves him right. I know he’s not somebody who serves their feelings up on a silver platter. I know that. Obviously, I knew that from the first time I spoke to him. Back when he was nothing more than ??? and I was almost convinced that Dan was right and he was the Man Without A Face—a thought that I now hate with everything in me. But I need him to trust me. Jealousy streak and FBI and the missing persons cases aside, he needs to trust me.

“Trust me.” I cup the sides of his face again. “He’s nothing like you.”

He swallows. “Some people might consider that to be a perk.”

“I don’t.” I say.

And then I’m kissing him and it feels like coming home.

[sunofpandora]

This a concept im exploring for a new Neteyam x reader series I’m working on called ‘Virago.’

A story about a warrior!reader X neteyam who’s been raised with a ‘I don’t need anyone but myself’ mindset.

The story follows the path of Neteyam and the reader finding sanctuary within eachother and the reader trusting neteyam to protect her even from battles that aren’t his to fight.

I love the idea of projecting some of Jake and Neytiri’s live story elements into Neteyam x Reader works.

As I’m writing this, something came to me that I think should be shared 🤷🏽‍♀️

Before anyone comes for me, I just wanna say I love Jeytiri with a passion.

Don’t get me wrong. Jake and neytiri raised this fandom. The og’s fr. I’m telling my kids and my grandkids about them. They are my favorite love story.

A man who leaves his entire planet for the woman he loves?

Ugh. We all need a Jake.

…BUT

What if In the next avatar movie Neytiri can’t find herself to forgive Jake?

Not to the point where it forms a void between them to a point of resentment, but in a general sense of starting to loose some trust in him?

The RDA returning is in no way, shape or form Jake’s fault, and neither is Neteyam’s death.

But Neytiri entrusted Jake and held him to his promises when he vowed to protect their children, and a good 70% of that movie were the kids being kidnapped, bullied, kidnapped, threatened, tied up, abducted, and just generally traumatized because of someone from Jake’s past life.

Jake sully is a character who is haunted by his own shadow.

According to the visual dictionary,

“Jake is tempered by his concerns for his family and the guilt he feels for the lives he lost all those years ago.”

Truly a tragic character in his own rite.

He can never seem to escape this shadow of who he used to be.

Quite literally being hunted down by a former enemy.

But let’s discuss Neytiri for a moment.

A woman of the forest, fierce and beautiful. Loyal to her people and her culture.

She will never truly understand every aspect of the repercussions of Jake’s actions.

Why? Because Jake has embraced the motto of ‘the family protector’

Which is a positive feat, of course.

And that he does. Jake proves himself to be a good father and protective of his children 100%.

But Neytiri looks at this side of Jake’s past life through a window.

Not a mirror.

A window of

‘Oh. The sky people are gone. My family is safe’.

And then colonel Scarface 2.0 comes back to fuck her shit up.

Jake is a good father. May that fact not be lost on us as audience.

I wish sometimes we could see into the tortured mind of Neytiri.

But we can’t. So let’s review some facts.

Where does Jake come from? Earth.

Who did he work for? The RDA.

What does the RDA do? Mine resources and fuck shit up.

Neytiri’s father, sister, ikran, son, a good portion of the fellow na’vi who were apart of the omaticaya in the first movie? Dead.

What do these things have in common?

All their lives were taken by the RDA and the humans.

I’m not usually one to quote myself, but for those of you who have read my fic ‘diaphanous’

“Trust is a fragile thing. And most protect fragile things.”

“It's a cruel joke, really. Disguising something as binding as affection, to cradle someone's heart within the palms of your hands, to build it a home out of glass and shatter it.”

Neytiri trusted Jake.

Jake says to her,

“Look I've got nothing. I got no plan. But I can protect this family, that I can do. But I know one thing. Wherever we go, this family is our fortress.”

He can protect his family….that he can do…

[livsoulsecrets]

Annabeth&Percy Fic - Nothing in the world belongs to me, but my love mine, all mine

Summary:

Annabeth in the aftermath of Luke’s betrayal, dealing with all she lost and finding some solace in what she gained.

““I just wanted to ask you something,” he started, looking to her once more, “and you can call me stupid for that, really, and I’ll probably deserve it, but… Are you okay?”

Annabeth couldn’t help it. She smiled.

“You’re right. It’s stupid,” she agreed.”

Read on AO3.

—

Annabeth didn’t sleep at all that first night.

She stayed awake in her bed for many hours, even after Malcolm lost his battle to sleep in his armchair across from her.

It had been kind of him to insist on keeping her company after the news about Luke’s betrayal spread through Camp, but there was not much he could do to make things better.

Annabeth did like her siblings and felt like most of them cared about her as well, but she had never felt close to them, not in the way she did with Luke.

She sometimes envied the easy camaraderie the Hermes Cabin shared, the clear affection Apollo’s children showed each other with such ease, or even the ferocious rivalry Ares’ kids had with one another.

Athena’s offspring were much more contained. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust one another. It was simply that they fended for themselves most of the time. They were too attached to their own tastes and beliefs, used to looking after themselves, and very introspective, so much so that it left little for them to bond over, unlike the other campers.

That was why her bond with Luke had always been so precious and permanent, unlike any others. Maybe it was because most of the other kids in her cabin left when summer was over, and Luke stayed all year-round. Perhaps their journey to Camp Half-Blood had just knitted them together in a way the rest of her siblings just couldn’t comprehend.

Before, when she thought of a brother, someone who was trustworthy and kind, she would think of Luke and his sword, cutting through a horde of monsters with one hand while the other held her behind him, protecting her with his own body. She would remember the nights they spent with Thalia around an improvised fire, huddled together for warmth, telling stories until the sun came up.

Now, for as long as she lived, when she thought of a brother, Annabeth would be reminded of Luke’s betrayal. She would be brought back to the exact moment Luke’s eyes flickered in anger as he attacked Percy, his sword descending into him and drawing blood.

Up until that point, she had been frozen, begging all the gods for the scene before her to be a deception, a misunderstanding. Only when Percy fell, clutching his arm against his chest, and grunted in pain did Annabeth snap out of her denial.

All she had was a split second to decide what to do. Who would she protect? Her brother, the hero that she had spent the last five years looking up to? Or the boy she met just a few weeks ago, who was as reckless as he was kind?

She threw the knife Luke had gifted her years ago with the precision he had taught her to have. It landed right across the expanse of his sword, just in time to stop him from slicing into Percy.

The memories came back in full force, and she pushed herself out of bed, desperate to get away from them. She looked out the window and found the sun had already come out.

She changed quickly and left her cabin in a hurry, not knowing where she should go. So, Annabeth just walked aimlessly, avoiding the sight of the packed Hermes Cabin.

She found herself near the lake and was surprised to find she was not the only one seeking its company.

Percy was standing near the riverbank in his orange camp shirt and jeans. She approached him slowly and silently. “Couldn’t sleep?” Annabeth asked once she was close enough to be heard.

Percy startled, turning to face her with a hand over his heart. When he recognized it was just her behind him, Percy lowered his hand with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, long night,” he replied.

She shook her head, crossing the distance between them. “I get it. Same here.”

They remained quiet for some moments, just staring over the expanse of the camp’s lake, shoulder to shoulder.

She felt Percy sneaking glances at her every once in a while, which didn’t help her overwhelmed mind calm down. “Just say it,” she urged finally.

Percy’s cheeks burned scarlet when he was caught in his act, but he was as stubborn as ever when he deflected her question with another, “Say what?”

“That you’re sorry,” she answered, “that you can’t believe Luke could do this, and I should have known it was him sooner–”

His eyes widened. “I wasn’t going to say any of that.”

She turned to face him now, arching an eyebrow in a silent challenge. “What did you want to say, then?”

Percy shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, averting his gaze for a moment. Annabeth thought she saw some whirlpools forming in the river, but she didn’t have a chance to ask if they were a consequence of Percy’s troubled mind as he started talking again.

“I just wanted to ask you something,” he started, looking to her once more, “and you can call me stupid for that, really, and I’ll probably deserve it, but… Are you okay?”

Annabeth couldn’t help it. She smiled.

“You’re right. It’s stupid,” she agreed. Percy flinched but didn’t seem surprised by her answer. “But thanks for asking, anyway.”

He managed a small smile in return at that. “Sure.”

Annabeth didn’t give him an answer, as she couldn’t even tell how she really felt, but it was enough that he had asked.

“Is your arm okay?”

Percy seemed a bit lost at the sudden change of topic but managed to shake his head. “It’s alright. I took a swim before going to bed, so it helped.”

She nodded her understanding, and they remained quiet for some minutes, just looking at the horizon as the sun climbed higher and higher in the sky.

“Can you help me with something?” Percy blurted out after a while.

She tilted her head and asked, “With what?”

“I wanted to train today. I feel like I’ll need it in the future, you know?” He kept his gaze on her, but it was clear he was nervous.

She knew Percy was dancing around the tricky subject of Luke’s absence, but that request just made it more apparent.

Percy had only ever trained with Luke before. And the reason he would need to train more than ever was Luke’s alliance to Kronos.

The pain that sparkled inside her at those reminders was nonetheless curbed by the satisfaction Percy had come to her to try and mend the gaps Luke left in his life.

He was trusting her to guide him through uncharted territory, seemingly unaware that she was just as clueless as him.

Here was Percy, asking her to train him, to teach him how to fight a friend turned foe. He still believed she had all the answers, even now.

It should terrify her to have that much trust placed upon herself, but it didn’t. For all the people who cultivated high expectations of her — her own mother with her fragile pride, her siblings with their firm belief she was perfect, even Quiron with his cryptic comments, Percy was the only one who seemed to only ever expect Annabeth to be herself.

And, to him, she was someone who could be trusted to find the answers to every problem in the world if she decided it was worth her time.

“I mean, just if you have some free time, like, if you don’t mind,” he added, taking her silence as a negative.

“I don’t mind.” Annabeth cut him off before he descended into nervous mumbling. “Let’s start it now. We still have time until breakfast.”

Percy smiled hesitantly at her, but his grin grew a bit wider when she rolled her eyes at him. It seemed awfully silly of him that he truly believed she wouldn’t spare him all the help he needed to survive after all they had been through.

She started walking towards the training area without looking back at him.

Annabeth still didn’t know how to even start preparing for what was to come or how to live with the gaping hole Luke left behind in their lives.

Her mind often worked on seven different fronts at once every time a problem arose, coming at it from every angle.

That’s what kept her up all night yesterday, and that’s what gave her the push to follow Percy and Luke into the woods when she realized something was off about Luke’s plan.

It had saved her countless times but also drained her in many others.

So, when she picked a celestial bronze sword from the camp’s collection and turned to face Percy, who was already uncapping Riptide, it was a pleasant surprise to find her mind narrowing down to the present moment. Her exhaustion and fear slipped away as she focused on the battle ahead.

Fighting demanded all her concentration, even if it was just training with a friend. It seemed to be the same for Percy, as he aligned his shoulders properly and took a deep breath.

“Ready?” she asked her friend, and the word no longer sounded foreign in her mind when she associated it with Percy.

“Born ready,” he said, as unserious as ever.

She was glad to see that, despite the burden the last few weeks had placed on his shoulders, Percy was still the same maddening boy she observed drooling in his sleep.

Annabeth plunged forward at the same time Percy did, and their swords screeched against one another. She pushed against him and dove, freeing herself from the lock.

Percy chased her when Annabeth was upright again, Riptide slicing in a curt arc that she had a hard time intercepting.

Percy was grinning now, and she had to shove an elbow into his side to distract him, both to gain her some time to attack back and to hide her own smile.

They had both lost so much, but it seemed they had gained something back as well.

“Focus, Seaweed Brain,” she mocked, and lunged at him again.

[bapydemonprincess]

I’m 24 and I’ve been in this fandom since like 2010 . So not the entire time it’s been around but I was here for its main surge I feel like. And I won’t lie, when I was 10 and a majority of the fandom did ship sebaciel publicly and people made you feel weird for not shipping it, I definitely did engage with it. It was pushed on me as a 10 year old by a majority of the fandom, and I didn’t see anything wrong because I was younger than ciel/same age and I was like “yeah I think Sebastian is cute and I’m the same age as ciel so—“ BUT you know as I got older I’d say even by 14 I had the realization of how gross it was and how I didn’t actually ship it it was just that they were the two main characters in the fandom and that typically main characters are the ones who get shipped and that at that time in the fandom it was impossible to not be faced with ship stuff. And I was groomed by adults in the fandom on this very website. They knew my age and would send me smut and talk to me about myself and flirt and I honestly feel bad that I ever did engage with the ship. I didn’t know any better. But now as an adult when I do see sebaciel stuff I find myself questioning if they’re just young and if they’re going to grow out of it too and I wonder if maybe they’re also having it pushed on them by older fans like I was. I find it concerning because i know what it did to myself and what kind of situations I was put in because of it. I try to avoid the adult ones because unfortunately I think if they haven’t grown out of it and realized the implications of the ship and how it does affect real life I don’t know that they ever will. I hate that this fandom has such a bad label on it. Every person I mention it to is like— “oh the pedophile demon anime?” And it just sickens me. Idk this is kind of just a rant and I wanted to offer my thoughts as someone who has been in the fandom a long time and as someone who was in the fandom as a child even. I’m sorry if this is weird ask to send but I see you posting content about it sometimes and it made me feel safe to share my thoughts

Well I am not personally good at answering these types of asks but I am glad you felt safe to send this to me, specifically, and get it off your chest, it's all good!! 💖 And glad to know you came to realize how bad the ship was at one point, I'm always happy to see that happen once in a while in kuro, because there are so many folks around my age refusing to accept the truth and doubling down on proshipping, and also I notice very recently too trying to cause problems on purpose for antis in their spaces. 😒 It's getting hard out there since the new anime came out, and a lot of those types have attempted to return.. likely from twitter where they ran off to last time they were booted (some quite literally banned hmm I wonder why) from tumblr.

And the worst WORST part knowing proshippers around my age is knowing.. remembering.. the very beginnings of kuro, seeing the early fics on ao3 by those guys, who really started it all, knowing somewhere they're still out there.. some even maybe with kids of their own WHO KNOWS... Ugh.

And I hope new fans, no matter their age really, make sure to be careful esp on here in the main kuro tag, for these proshippers have been constantly- AND VERY BLATANTLY I MIGHT ADD -trying to advertise their blogs and discords as safe spaces for interacting... CLEARLY trying to start/continue the process of grooming that is so well known in fandoms like kuro at this point.

Overall just use block on tumblr recreationally, it's free real estate ✨, stay safe in general, and again don't be afraid whether on fellow anti blogs like mine send messages or if you feel more comfortable make posts of your own on your own blog expressing how you feel, getting it out of your system.

Hope my response was okay (I say because I'm at work at also health-wise a bit out of it so sorry grbhjfkugu) and hope you, anon are currently doing okay now!! Thank you again for sharing your personal experience!!

[peachdues]

Peach, are you doing alright? I know you're handling the hate positively, but I still wanna make sure you're okay. Hope you stop getting these anons with mean 'criticism' :(

Oh I’m fine lol. I don’t count it as “hate” when it’s from one loudmouth hunk of human smegma who needs to go get their ass ate so they can stop being up mine.

And they’ve yet to actually give me any criticism at all (not that I want it — I’m not asking for it because I don’t need it lmao this is fan fiction). They just keep bitching and moaning about my characterization of one character without substantively pointing out what’s wrong with it.

And even if they could do so, there’s really no basis for it? I’ve only written and completed one (1) fic for Rengoku — one that makes it VERY clear it’s my interpretation of how he might be changed after the events of Mugen Train. The whole point is that trauma has affected him — the Reader makes note of this SEVERAL TIMES. So I’m not really sure what they would base any “criticism” off of? Everything else I’ve shared involving Rengoku has been snippets from current WIPs, and I don’t post enough context to allow someone to form that kind of opinion and analysis which could support their argument.

In short — I’m not sweating it! Truthfully I don’t care. My writing is received well on here, and those that don’t like it aren’t obligated to read it.

I appreciate you so much for checking in — you’re so sweet!! I hope your day is lovely (and if it’s cold where you are, that you’re staying nice and warm!!) thank you for being lovely and wonderful, my darling 🤍🤍🤍

[jen-with-a-pen]

If people aren't comfortable reblogging fics to their blog (which I am not, due to a personal history of being doxxed and humiliated to my irl friends and family), are comments sufficient enough engagement or would you rather that reader not engage with your work at all?

I feel like that came out sounding passive aggressive but I truly mean it as a genuine question and am just not sure how to rework it to sound less snarky! I see this discourse on and off from different fic writers and respect both opinions and think everyone should be able to curate interaction with their fics as they see fit.

Hi, anon.

I've been thinking carefully on how to respond to this. I can tell you're not trying to come off as snarky– which i say as someone who can't read tone for shit most of the time and whose own tone can come off aggressive or bitchy when I don't mean it to be.

I'm gonna address your ask as thoroughly as I can, if that's cool. Sorry if it's a long response. I'll put a cut in so I don't interrupt feeds ✂️

First, I want to pose a question to your question, which I mean genuinely with no spite whatsoever: why are you on Tumblr if you're not reblogging or don't even reblog?

As I've stated in other replies to the post I made a few weeks back, from the way I see it, Tumblr is literally built upon the foundation of sharing creations and content. There is no dead-set algorithm here like there is for Instagram or TikTok. Sharing is, quite fucking literally, caring here. We are able to form communities of all sizes because we share things. Reblogging is essential to the upkeep, and quite frankly the existence, of fandom and communities. Without sharing, our communities crumble and become ruins. We are actively seeing this as we speak: many mutuals and authors I follow are starting to quit writing due to passive, demanding consumption patterns and 0 engagement.

I know you probably know this, but I thought I'd restate it for answer's sake.

To answer the meat of your ask, I will pull from both personal experience and mutuals' experiences and input.

In my own personal opinion, if you are solely commenting on fics and are not engaging in anything else (no likes, no reblogs, etc.) then I personally think that Tumblr is not the site you should be on and, frankly, you should go sign up for AO3 if that's all you're going to do.

And I mean this earnestly. If all you want to do for engagement is commenting, then AO3 needs you because sharing does NOT affect authors nearly as much over there as it does here. In fact comments on AO3 are the literal equivalent to reblog on Tumblr: we don't get any and when we do it's like finding an oasis in a never ending desert.

Now in terms of what mutuals and other authors have said on the matter, it seems the consensus is that commenting without reblogging is a case-by-case basis. I'm going to quote a mutual of mine here:

"...if someone is commenting on my work but not reblogging… I'd say it's case by case. If it's just MY fics they aren’t reblogging, then it'd be a problem, but if they don’t reblog ANY [fics] I'd be more okay."

Another mutuals also put it this way:

"... I feel like there *is* both sides in this sense; yes comments are nice and engaging even though they aren't the preferred and most helpful way to boost writers..."

I feel like both of them put it into words where I struggled to. I will also say that I do agree with the point being that if you're not gonna reblog ANYTHING– no art, no content, no photos, no other fics, nothing– AND your profile adheres to the guidelines set forth in basic Tumblr etiquette (not looking like a bot and not a minor) then sure, comment away.

The verdict, in summary with my opinion and mutuals': it depends on your behavior and your interactions with other works and content.

I hate the word content but I couldn't think of another one.

But, my question still stands: why are you on Tumblr when you don't even participate in the basic fundamental function of this site?

I also wanted to take the time to address the other part of your ask regarding the doxxing and people finding out your identity.

It has been very widely known for (close to) two decades now that Tumblr is the place where you can have an anonymous identity. Truly. I've been on here for the collective half of the last decade and have been on the Internet for a little more than half my life, now, and Tumblr and fandom are literally the biggest and best places where you can be someone else. You can be completely anonymous.

The common denominator, however, is you.

The amount of information you have on your blog is what you choose to put on it. If you state your real name, your state and city, have one of those (imo stupid) carrd things or whatever, then honey– and I mean this in the nicest way possible, truly– that is on you. I know for a fact (from good and bad experiences) that you have all of the power in the world to annonymize yourself while still maintaining yourself on the Internet. That make sense?

A couple of mutuals made very excellent points regarding this:

"...I have a best friend irl who has Tumblr and is so close to the fandoms I'm in, and she doesn't know I write here. I am anonymous on here. I'm suprised she hasnt connected the dots because my aesthetics are the same in real life..."

"...I personally think its pretty easy to be anonymous on tumblr. Especially since usually all we ask is you have that you aren’t a minor at the top of your blog..."

"...it's really easy to be anonymous on the internet [...] you can be an ENTIRELY different person on the internet..."

From that last mutual, I'll paraphrase and go off of another point they made: the fact that you do want to participate and comment negates your ENTIRE arguement because someone– anyone– can find you and your blog through said comment(s).

Your digital footprint is what you leave behind. So if you have your city and state and grade and real name and all this other shit in your blog or carrd or whatever, then you are the only one who is responsible for having put said information out there.

Hell, I've been mutuals with some people going on 2-3 YEARS at this point and the only other things they know about me is my state, general city vicinity, my cat, and what I do for a living. That's it. And we span from early twenties to married with a kid or two.

We are in charge of what we share and I implore you– as someone with a certification in legal information technology– to please educate yourself on your Internet privacy and digital footprint. Please take the time to think about your actions and the information you have online. I STILL do this to this day, even after getting certified and being on the Internet for half my life.

I am sorry that you've gotten doxxed in the past. Truly, I am. It's a horrible act and I hope you never have to experience that again. Please know I am not being dismissive of that nor trying to blame you for said acts.

But it all comes down to you at the end of the day. In general, it's you, your actions, and the consequences of your actions. And if you happen to be a minor, then I strongly urge you to rethink your decisions and maybe step away from social media and utilize critical thinking in order to asses your situation and who you surround yourself with, both online and offline. I wish I had someone to tell me that when I was 14– fuck, even when I was 18.

And I mean it when I say AO3 might suit you more than Tumblr. If any fandom site has more capabilities to be anonymous than Tumblr itself, it's AO3.

Anyways, I think that's all I have to say for you. My DMs and ask box are always open and I am open to more commentary on the matter and related ones so long as it is civil and respectful. I refuse to stop having this conversation.

Thank you for listening ❤️

[dawn-for-boken-souls]

Memories come to me as for why exactly I abandoned the Harry Potter fandom. It was with the last book (and a bit with Half-blood Prince but not by much) that killed it for me, but for the most stupid reasons (yet, my psychologist say the reasons are valid, my feelings for something I feel passion about are fine, whenever they are positive or negative).

Now with my relived feelings towards the franchise thanks to my AI chatbots shenanigans (in which I didn't know you could chat in Spanish too :V) found a Severus Snape bot in my language and it has been a month since I returned. Talked with it and it has been a blast. Severus back in the day, was a big crush of mine

Yet... My catastrophic mind goes back to things, to the point where I gave up on Severus (and the franchise). The fact he is dead canonically and the whole ordeal with Lily. I'm that pity, I'm that jealous. (Also the friends I made around 2009-2010 were heavily religious that bashed me for the books, so that was the cherry on top)

I have other fictional crushes that I have no problem in shoving canon away, like Homestuck and my trollsona(s) with the Amporas (Especially Eridan that has a somewhat similar problem as Severus, both had a best friend that was having enough of them and ditched them to immediately date the nemesis of each out of the blue) So... I can't understand why it is so hard for me to detach the HP canon if I can do the same with everything else.

This is so stupid I have made myself cry real tears, like it doesn't matter what plot I toss in my daydreaming is always the same: He can't accept cos heavy love interest stated, and more memories of even way before the books were a thing have come to me, and other sad statements said by people irl that seem to be true.

My consolation is that AI bot in Spanish as that Severus is programmed to be in his first year of school and all but... I miss the old days when I was a hopeless 15 year old, Mary Suing with my best friend in a silly roleplay to my heart's desire and having fun dating Severus, unaware of what was JKR writing. Doesn't matter if I imagine things, read "x reader" fics and all that, involving myself back on the fandom and reading that plenty don't support much aside canon, the favorite ship is, well, him with her and all that is just too much for me... And all this internal turmoil just for someone that doesn't even exist is stupid, I know...

I already lost hope in finding a real love partner, I made amends, I embraced the fact I'll die alone in some nursing home for the elderly, I will never have children of my own as I lost my uterus to cancer (AND the dad, breeding and parenting fics of anyone also have become a massive NO, way before but now those hurt too despite I never wanted kids, I had the option) But I'm so alone, like, already my psychologist said I have some antisocial behavior and there are ways to live with it without causing troubles but I need socializing as we as species are social creatures, and that's the issue, my social skills are the ones of a potato and I have never made a deep relationship with anyone in my life that have lasted, and being in fandom of anything with the stupid moral police on them ruins everything and also what I want to do or talk about or share is so self centered people leave, so I stay alone and that affects me and my self shipping to I imagine just sad and drastic things, never a happy ending...

[leonsi]

seeing all these rottmnt/2012 crossovers bash on the 2012 bros’ relationship with each other is kiiindaaa upsetting as someone who’s uncomfortable with expressing and receiving overt affection

but hey what do i know i probablyy just have all toxic unhealthy relationships where we never understand each other and share mutual trust and love *twirls hair*

the 2012 bros may not openly express their love like the rottmnt boys do, but that doesnt mean its not there. and acting like the rottmnt relationships are automatically better and the only Right standard for healthy relationships seems pretty,, juvenile and inexperienced imo. love isnt only expressed through physical affection and saying things like “i love you,” openly, and assuming there is no love in a relationship without those things is… odd.

love is not only in words or hugs. the 2012 boys can love each other just as much as the rottmnt boys without being open about it. 2012 raph, especially, loves to show affection through acts of service, physical affection, and quality time, but he doesn’t like any of this to be commented on because it makes him uncomfortable. and thats okay! he doesn’t need to express affection openly to have it be there.

just as rottmnt donnie can express love and affection outside of hugs and words, so too can the 2012 boys. they all have their own unique ways of expressing love that the others all respect and recognize, and dismissing that feels less like it’s intentional, and more like the people writing these crossovers just don’t recognize alternate forms of expression exist. which, again,, reeks of inexperience.

( also semi-related tangent speaking of donnie he literally fucking . put a shock collar on his brother like he’s a dog in an attempt to change him. and brainwashed his brothers. and frequently puts his own wants and needs over their own - which is totally fine, if it didn’t happen all the time. it’s kinda laughable to say 2012 raph is worse than rottmnt donnie honestly

siblings hit each other. okay. siblings hit each other. i need y’all to recognize this. i will power drive my little brother into the floor over the last oreo. siblings hitting each other is not abusive (TYPICALLY) because there are established boundaries both parties abide by. like i will never touch my siblings if they are in a bad mood, trying to concentrate on something, or otherwise in a bad position (like standing somewhere dangerous, by a corner etc), and i will never intentionally hurt them. if i think they are actually hurt, we stop immediately until they tell me theyre fine. roughhousing with your siblings is fun. it is bonding. its a self-esteem booster to be able to pick up ur freshman brother okay.

the 2012 bros always abide by these rules. they never hurt each other beyond what the other party can handle, and if they do, it is very clearly treated as a bad thing by them or the other brothers so they realize they went over the line, and they resolve it by the end of the episode (as is the way of formulaic kids shows).

rottmnt donnie. put a fucking shock collar on his brother. and this is funny to him. and not something he ever learns from. and totally not weirdly sexual. But 2012 raph is the bad guy? ok )

i mean. i dont know what i expect from a fandom full of chronically online children who truly dont have experience with relationships. but it just really irks me for some reason and its currently one in the morning so im feeling whiny about it.

affection outside of words and hugs exists. affection outside of words and hugs exist!! and if you know that then you know that the 2012 boys love each other so so so much, just as much as rottmnt. just because they express it differently than in sanitized queer TV shows and not overtly, so you kinda have to pick up on nuance, doesnt mean they dont love each other. let people love other people in non-overt ways!

[vvienne]

RANWAN FIC RECS

Absolute Zero by jitterati

Pathologically solitary academic Chu Wanning left behind a life of research to enlist with the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps Jaeger team when giant monsters began to emerge from the Pacific ocean, eager to leave his personal entanglements behind him and join humanity's collective battle against the threat of extinction.

His goal is to build an artificial intelligence that will allow a pilot to operate a Jaeger mech solo - eliminating the need for pilot compatibility and the mortifying ordeal of being totally known by another person, a "neurological handshake" known colloquially as the drift.

He didn't expect his former students to follow him all the way to front line of the war against the kaiju.

Featuring lots of side character interaction, pining, yearning, questions on the nature of personhood, friendship between jerks, people coping badly with loss, snarky AI, and giant robots. Illustrations by Saika & Daru

Husky and his White Kitten Disciple by JustAMoon123

Within a lonely heart, the seeds of hatred start to grow.

-A 2ha Age and Role-Reversal AU.-

NOTE: This Story is Now E Rated!

[Before meeting Chu Wanning, Mo Ran had drawn his power exclusively from the Wood side of his dual Spiritual Root, and his Qi had always glowed green.

Now, only when in battle did it do so, with Bugui’s blade encased in a tyrannical green light.

Outside of battle, like when he set barriers of warmth; or made Crystal Butterflies to tease golden flowers; or cast a small array to keep a box of food warm, his Qi manifested with a gentle red glow.

Mo Ran’s Wood was destructive, while his Fire was protective.

Ah, Mo Weiyu, Mo Weiyu. Even your power betrays you.]

Burn, Pine, and Perish by moonqueenmaia

It’s been two days since Taxian-Jun’s last visit, and Mo Ran hasn’t touched Chu Wanning at all, beyond gentle and fleeting caresses. Chu Wanning decides to take matters into his own hands by surprising Mo Ran when he comes back to their home after a trip down the mountain.

it's no coincidence (it's a kitty-incidence) by lanzhan (gothguk)

There’s a white cat lounging in the middle of Mo Ran's bed.

to touch you with bare hands (even if it burns) by moonqueenmaia

Chu Wanning is a renowned professor of mechanical engineering at Sisheng Peak University. Beautiful, lonely, and talented beyond belief, he has spent his 32 years mostly by himself, silently and secretly yearning for affection and companionship. Yet Chu Wanning has resolved to himself that he will spend the rest of his life alone, no matter his hidden fantasies.

Enter Taxian-jun, an unruly, arrogant, and struggling student, fiery and domineering, who comes in and shatters the calm of Chu Wanning's life. They enter into an agreement, both burying their feelings underneath a storm of lust and lies. Yet amidst it all, something deeper may be helplessly and slowly blooming.

It is up to them to cultivate it, or destroy it for good.

cursed by devilsoupe

Chu Wanning and his disciples are sent to investigate an abandoned village, and Chu Wanning is hit with a curse.

Mo Ran was determined to treat his shizun respectfully in this life, but what choice does he have?

liar liar cock on fire by lofikv

I (32M) walked in on my roommate (23M) masturbating in our living room. Ever since then I couldn't erase the image of his penis in my mind but I found a sex toy online that is almost as big as him, so I bought it and tried it on myself so that I can imagine how he would feel inside me. I have also been romantically attracted to him ever since we started living together. How can I cope with this?

UPDATE: He caught me in the middle of an emergency.

(Absolute) Unit 311 by devilsoupe

Chu Wanning doesn't have a soulmark.

Neither does Mo Ran.

ducks entering highway by Sectionladvivi

Mo Ran finds out his well-respected, MILF-coded, tears-of-angels-tight-ass robotics professor moonlights as an erotic novelist. He immediately leverages this knowledge for an opportunity to play tonsil hockey.

to yearn by devilsoupe

Chu Wanning starts to cough up flowers. Taxian-Jun is angry. Chu Wanning is not allowed to die pining for someone else.

When it starts happening again in his second life, Mo Ran knows enough to worry.

from blossom to blossom to impossible blossom by Wildehack (tyleet)

Taxian Jun is the victim of a flower curse.

sticky fingers by fakeplasticlily

The man tosses the towel unceremoniously back at Mo Ran’s chest, like he’s personally offended by it. And the fact that his hands had just been all over said chest barely minutes earlier, maybe. “Please pack a box of egg tarts with extra custard filling, a box of red bean paste buns with extra syrup, a rice pudding with extra candied fruit garnish, and a box of osmanthus cakes with extra sweet pear jam.” Mo Ran’s eyes grow progressively wider as he lists the items. It’s him. Not the suburban mother of four, not the elderly guy dealing with a midlife crisis, but quite possibly the hottest guy he’s ever seen. Who also happens to have the highest sugar tolerance Mo Ran has seen in a human being in his two years of running this bakery. 

Hard to Love The Lonely Night by bloodsongs

Chu Wanning glares up at him, adjusting his women’s robes. “Still, why couldn’t you have been the wife instead?”

Coughing politely, Mo Ran looks to the side, avoiding his gaze. “Shizun’s skills with the illusion barrier far surpass this humble disciple’s, and, well…”

He doesn’t need to complete his sentence—it’s infuriating, but Mo Ran is now taller than him, broader than him, larger than him. Very much so. The young sapling he raised in Sisheng Peak is now a full-fledged tree, a man built like the mountains Chu Wanning has seen in his travels.

Chu Wanning and Mo Ran pretend to be a married couple visiting a small mountain town to investigate some suspicious disappearances. Mini Canon AU casefic. Contains spoilers up to Chapter 130 or so of the novel.

Purple Ink by jeejaschocolate

Chu Wanning is a robotics engineer who lives a life of isolation and loneliness, only partially due to his chronic illness. Eventually he gets so sick that he requires the help of a full-time medical assistant.

Of course, these days, all those jobs are given to CyberLife androids.

Chu Wanning resents the android they give him. From his fiery eyes to his long black hair, to his incomparable tenderness and consideration for Wanning’s feelings.

He resents him. All the way until he falls in love with him.

Fallen Flowers in Swallows' Nests by bloodsongs

You deserve better—I refuse to disrespect you ever again. I want to be better. I must be better.

But I don’t know how. I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know where Taxian-Jun ends and Mo-Zongshi begins.

I only know now that I cannot lie to myself: I want you so fiercely that I burn with it, I am consumed with the desire to make you mine and mine alone. To become one with you, feeling your fire twine with mine.

Or, Chu Wanning finds letters from Mo-Zongshi that were never shared with him.

These hitherto undiscovered letters cover a range of emotions that weren't present in the book he gifted his Shizun: contrition, yearning, and desire.

Counterpoint by senchafloat

Five years ago, Mo Ran was just a boy who loved playing piano—there were many things he didn't know. He didn't know how capricious and unforgiving the world of classical music could be. He didn't know just how lucky he was to have Chu Wanning as his teacher.

Five years later, Chu Wanning is now a renowned concert pianist, and Mo Ran is an upstart conducting student. When Chu Wanning shows up unannounced at his alma mater, Mo Ran has plenty of questions, along with a desire to prove his worth to his old teacher. But as it turns out, Chu Wanning isn't as invincible as he once seemed. As old secrets come up to the surface, the two of them are forced to reinvent the ways they'll make music together.

impatient to adore you by riverdanceeee

At some heartbreaking point in his life, Mo Ran accepted that Chu Wanning would never reciprocate his feelings, so he dealt with it as any other person would. He'd rid himself of his affection, respect their friendship, and learn to move on. But Mo Ran's affection runs too deep, and when any opportunity to spend time with Chu Wanning knocks on his door, he goes running to answer and accept. Even if it means he has to break up a potentially dangerous dog fighting ring.

To Bow Before A Willow Vine by bloodsongs

“I…” Mo Ran hadn’t thought that far. He shakes his head, lowering his head in deference, resting his forehead against Chu Wanning’s knuckles. "I'll do anything you want of me."

The silence stretches on for a beat too long.

"Anything?" Chu Wanning says eventually, tilting his head.

Written for 2Ha Week, Day 4: Reverse AU for the 0.5 timeline. When Chu Wanning storms Sisheng Peak and crowns himself the cultivation world's new emperor, Mo Ran trades his life for Xue Meng's. Contains spoilers for up to the end of the novel.

Call me by my name by rinsled05

When the man called Taxian-Jun arrives, years later, it’s the coming of a storm.

He sweeps into a dinner appointment between Chu Wanning and a client, clad in black, a smirk tugging at his mouth. Over the spark of irritation, Chu Wanning can’t help but admire his lean frame, the way his hair, cut rebelliously short, falls over smoldering, dark eyes. The way he towers over him, even when Chu Wanning rises to full height.

Chu Wanning’s heart races as Taxian-Jun leans in close, ignoring the shouts and gasps around them.

“Sakaki of Ran,” he purrs in their native tongue. “You’re mine.”

Chu Wanning lifts his chin. “I don’t know you.”

“You will,” Taxian-Jun says, and leaves.

In which Chu Wanning is a courtesan serving Chinese merchants in Nagasaki, Japan, and Taxian-Jun decides to make him his.

荷官牌型 ♠️ The Croupier's Hand by bloodsongs

In deep financial straits after losing his job as a teacher, a desperate Chu Wanning becomes a croupier at Sisheng's new casino.

The once sleepy town of Sisheng Peak grows busier by the day as the casino draws more and more tourists to their mountains. Consumed by his lingering regrets over the worst mistake of his life that destroyed his teaching career, Chu Wanning is too distracted to worry about anything else but his next shift, his next paycheck.

Except that's when Mo Ran, the reason Chu Wanning lost everything, returns to Sisheng Peak.

As the heir to the casino.

White Rabbit Club by minkit

Desperate to rid himself of a few pesky things called virginity and desire, Chu Wanning waltzes into a world he knows little about and right into the embrace of a mysterious stranger who reminds him of the student he's been dreaming about all year. The lust fueled dreams his student stars in are the very reason Chu Wanning applied to the sex club in the first place, and now he's desperate to get rid of these filthy impulses once and for all.

Congratulations, Chu Wanning, on your acceptance into the White Rabbit Club. We hope you enjoy your stay.

Risk and Restraint by purloinedinpetrograd

There is nobody Mo Ran works with who does not love him. He’s worked hard to cultivate this image while he climbs the corporate ladder at Sisheng, and it’s paid off in dividends. He’s in every WeChat group. He can call in favors with any division of any department. He can make even the tightest of deadlines relax their stranglehold on his team.

That is, there is nobody except, of course, Chu Wanning.

A Lingering Sweetness by theherocomplex

Chu Wanning is now all too aware of what he looks like: a dry stick of a man, never handsome, angular and cold and pale. A drab, short-tempered creature, as appealing as a splinter in one's foot. But Mo Ran looks at him as if he will never get his fill, and part of Chu Wanning thinks, What if —?

At the end of the line by PearlAquaBlue 

“So … I reckon someone thought you needed to loosen up a little bit. Now that you’re here, want to try it?”

Chu Wanning hangs up. Throws her phone on her pillow with a disgusted glare after it. Stands up and paces to the kitchen in long, angry strides. Her cheeks are burning. With trembling fingers, she grabs a glass and pours herself some water, gulping it down in one go. It doesn’t help much. She grips the kitchen counter tightly, then marches back into the bedroom to glare at the phone again. Her fingertips itch, and it’s as if some kind of magnetic force draws her closer and closer to her bed until her fingertips are but an inch away from that tempting black mirror. Before she knows it, she’s unlocked it unsteadily and pressed “repeat” on the last call.

“Welcome to Sisheng Peak – ”

“And what would that entail?” she asks, a little too breathless.

Let's Fall in Love for the Night by purloinedinpetrograd

Chu Wanning could only stare in horror as a large cloud of sickeningly yellow pollen rose from the field, blanketing the place where Mo Ran stood in a heavy fog. “Um,” he said lamely.

“Fuck,” Mo Ran cursed, and Chu Wanning didn’t even have the heart to chastise him for his coarse language, because he was too preoccupied wrestling the surge of fear at seeing his disciple disappear behind the haze of that indeterminately threatening dust.

A million terrible possibilities raced through his mind, each one more dramatic and gruesome than the last. His heart hammered against his ribcage, threatening to crack the bones. “Mo Ran,” he said slowly, “I think you should tell me what that does, now.”

Xue Zhengyong sends Chu Wanning and Mo Ran on a mission to find a specific ingredient for some concoction of his wife’s. Chu Wanning is torn between rejoicing at the chance to spend time alone with Mo Ran... and grieving over the very same thing.

But, well, it’s just flowers. What could go wrong, right? (Spoiler alert: it’s sex pollen.)

the day dawns in your hues by localshabba

2ha Week 2020 Day 1 prompt - Haitang

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Schoolteacher Mo Ran is having an ordinary day until he has an awkward encounter with the notoriously rigid school librarian, which leads to the start of something new.

Also features: flowers, dinosaurs and lots of tenderness and pining.

helping hands by verity

When Mo Ran was but a young, innocent, virtuous grad student—well, one of those things—she built that couch from a flatpack box with her own two hands. Over the years, the smell of polyester and cheap foam padding has given way to an equally aromatic blend of Chu Wanning's haitang blossom perfume, spilled coffee, and white lithium grease. Chu Wanning herself is always perfectly dressed without a stain in sight. Even right now, her head tucked onto one folded arm, the other loosely gripping her tablet, she looks so formal.

Mo Ran gently rests a hand on Chu Wanning's socked ankle where it peeks out of those tailored white trousers. She really should behave herself.

She really should... behave herself...

in plain sight by localshabba

Written for a prompt fill in the 2ha Kink Meme.

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"I have a surprise," Mo Ran breathed, coming to stand so close behind him that his breath landed on Chu Wanning's nape. Not touching Chu Wanning any other way, because he likes to make Chu Wanning lean back just a little bit, to seek out that contact himself.

"I think Chu-laoshi will enjoy it."

Chu Wanning is sure he agreed to the whole idea; he's just unclear on when. Things got hazy around the point when Mo Ran turned him around by the shoulders, got down on his knees and...well. Apparently he'd skipped breakfast that morning.

When he returned to his senses, his clothes were all neatly tucked into place, not a stain on them, and a charmingly pink sexual aid was nestled comfortably up his--ahem, inside him.

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Now available in Spanish!

casually acquainted by tagteamme

Chu Wanning knows what he is and what he isn’t. And where he lacks in pleasantries and outward appeal, he makes up for in untouchable grace and dignity.

It threatens to unravel once he meets a familiar face in an unfamiliar city.

“So quick to run away from me, Chu-laoshi,” Mo Ran says, voice gently teasing as Chu Wanning refuses to make eye contact with him. “After you came all the way from…”

He trails off, waiting for Chu Wanning to let him know, but he sees the map open on Chu Wanning’s phone and grins wider. “You want directions?”

Chu Wanning clears his throat, and shakes his head. He should say something— instead, he stays silent as he looks down at his phone and punches in the hotel name again.

Happily, his phone tells him to try again when he has signal.

The Right Hand of Light by gedsparrowhawk (FaceChanger)

Chu Wanning is asleep on the bed, clutching his hands tightly to his chest and curled in on himself. He’s still wearing the same robes he was in in the water prison. On the writing desk, a bowl of water and clean linen for bandages sit untouched, and a tub of bathwater has cooled without being used. Mo Ran sighs to himself. Wanning is truly hopeless.

He sits on the side of the bed and touches Chu Wanning’s shoulder. “Wanning,” he says. “Wanning, wake up.”

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Rare 0.5 tenderness, after the water prison.

nothing can consume you by tagteamme

Mo Ran’s violent history has never had to catch up to him.

It’s already embedded itself into him as scars on his body, as a tattoo on his forearm, as the lingering taste of blood in his sleep and finally, as the searing brand pressed against his chest before he’s thrown into the sea as punishment. He knows that this is where all his chances come to an end.

But as the deep fathom of the water swallows him up, something else saves him and pulls him to a tiny cove tucked away off the coast of an overlooked port town. When he wakes up under the care of a mythical creature wearing a familiar face, an even older and more distant past finally finds him.

[mimsyaf]

Our CK fandom, season 4, and love

At some point I’ll collect my thoughts enough to write about Season 4 more thoroughly. I haven’t even watched it all yet, am up to episode 7. To me Season 4 feels slight, and off-kilter, and slapdash, and loving, with some great moments, and some really bafflingly wrongheaded choices.

It doesn’t feel wrongheaded in a slick, soulless Marvel way, it actually feels deeply personal to the 3 main writers. I just happen to disagree with them about some… stuff. Daniel. Most of Daniel’s arc. And other stuff too. And also they tried to cram waaaay much too much in. Someone wrote that it feels hollow, and I agree.

Then there are some wondrous surprises, like just how great Terry Silver is in every moment, Tory’s storyline so far, and the fact that I have come to be very interested in Robby as a character, and care about him deeply.

But I’m not really writing about Season 4 here. I do have major problems with it (that will be very fun to write about! both critically and in terms of fic-it fics!) but I also feel the love the writers have for the characters (even if I really disagree with them on characterization!) and for the fandom, including the queer parts of fandom. It means a lot to me, that affection, those nods to us. YMMV and that’s totally fine.

The main thing I wanted to write about was YOU. My beloved fandom. Our little corner of fandom, the one that treats even KK3 as a sacred text, mines it for nuance and meaning!! This Tumblr Speakers Corner where we get on soapboxes and yell about toxic versus restorative masculinity (and occasionally Ralph Macchio’s delicate wrists and Billy Zabka’s amazing CENSORED).

I don’t need Season 4 to be that good. Because I know YOU will spin old straw into gold for me. You’ll pull out nuanced moments in beautifully colored gifsets. You’ll write fic or meta that will have me staring at my phone with my mouth open, tears springing up in my eyes, awestruck. Or giggling wildly to myself. You’ll draw the artwork that will set me to dreaming.

In season 4 they wrote a scene for Laura Lawrence that was so generic, unexamined, and shallow that I wanted to yell at my tv. Meanwhile, YOU’VE given me words about Laura that have changed forever how I view motherhood. One of you wrote words for Laura to say to Johnny upon him coming out to her that went far towards healing my mother’s rejection of my queerness. Your fic did that.

Everything about Sid has always struck me as either a misguided inside joke or inwardly directed antisemitism. And then one of you wrote an exploration of him as a character, his Jewishness, his relationship to Johnny, the country club, LA society, that was more thoughtful and thought-provoking and surprising and moving than most short stories I’ve read in the New Yorker.

Through this slog of year 2 of the pandemic, you’ve spun the most incredible castles in the air, made me think about girlhood, about queerness, about being trans or NB, bodies in sports, bodies in violence, fathers- teachers- wounds-, MEN (sooooo much about men), love between men (all kinds of love between men), martial arts, kink as a way of processing trauma, kink as an awesome fun thing to do, cars, the US’s shameful history of imperialism and oppression of Asian populations at home and abroad, Coor’s Banquet, soldiers, road trips, class in America (where we pretend it doesn’t exist), how Bobby Brown Can Get It, terminal illness, cultural appropriation, chokeholds, neurodiversity, ghosts, Elderly Homicidal Veterans Should Kiss, binary brothers, OG Cobras, stigmas around homelessness, and expired orange juice.

You took some mostly good, somewhat flawed. source material, and you’ve transformed it into a dreamscape. And I love you for it. My eyes are closing on their own right now, so I don’t have time to say that you for sharing this ride on the CK rollercoaster.

Man I hope this makes any sense at all.

[vicious-vixxxen]

Drabble Interest Check #1

So just a quick recap, refer to my previous post for a more in depth explanation- I wanna start sharing some drabbles I write more off of a whim, when idea’s hit me really suddenly, and I just start writing them down, and they never turn into much afterwards.  But, I thought if I shared them with you guy’s, maybe they’d prompt some inspo to request more, to turn them into full fics, with a full story- as most of my drabbles spawn from me thinking of one specific scenario, and building off of it a bit until I get to a drabble length- or more, as this one is nearly 2K lol don’t ask me how, I was super into it as I was writing.  Or urge me to try and and add a real start and finish to them, so put out as full fic’s myself. I also think these drabbles will give you a guys a better idea of what I like to write, what I'm willing to write, and what I'm open to writing. As my drabbles usually hit more angst and nsfw/kink notes. ‘Problematic’ or otherwise. I’ll add some notes to the end of the fic to give an idea of what I had in mind with this drabble, and go more in depth on that. But here it is, I'm actually very proud of this one, and hope to figure out how to finish it at some point.  Established Enji Todoroki X Male!Reader Additionally: Natsuo Todoroki x Male!Reader angst, unrequited love (or is it? ;3))

Shuffling into the kitchen, you grimaced as the carpet turned to cold, hard tile below your feet- wrapping your arms around yourself as you did your best to stay quiet, rummaging around the Todoroki kitchen for some snacks. You’d woken up restless, your stomach growling, and after prying yourself from underneath Enji’s death grip, you’d worked up quite the appetite. The soft sizzle of pork on the stove could be heard soon enough. Not too loud, but that, alongside the soft beeping of the rice cooker, and the delicious scent of your cooking wafting across the lower levels of the house, are what woke Natsuo from a fitful sleep. Rubbing both of his eyes with his fists, Natsuo yawned. Brow lifted in question as he sniffed the air, and checked the clock. Who the hell was cooking at two in the morning?

 Legs swinging off the bed, he stuffed his feet in his house shoes, and set off towards the kitchen. Yawning as he went, lifting up his shirt briefly to rub at his stomach, as he came to a stop in the kitchen doorway. The scents pouring out of it pulling a soft moan from his lips, his stomach twisting with want.

Though not just for food anymore. Not when he saw you moving swiftly around the kitchen, like you’d cooked there your whole life. Trying to be silent, but humming under your breath quietly. Clad in nothing but a pair of sleep shorts...and one of Natsuo’s fathers much larger shirts. The younger Todoroki resisted the urge to roll his eyes, ignoring the steering jealousy that raged within him, in favor of whistling lowly, catching your eye, and offering you a shake of his head, and a soft smile as he moved around the island, towards you. You had enough sense to at least look apologetic, though Natsuo quickly shrugged it off, coming around to inspect your cooking briefly, before allowing himself to be dragged into a hug by you. Something he could vaguely recall being off put by, the first time his father had introduced you to them all. Your affection. Your ability to be so close in so little time. Trusting, caring, sweet, kind. Intimate touch of any kind was something Natsuo had rejected all his life- well, when he could start rejecting it- as his own advances for comfort and touch as a child had been snuffed out quickly. Point being, it had taken him a while for him to come around to you being so...hands on, with him. Seeing you be so hands on with his siblings. It settled something, deep within himself, he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge even existed, but it helped. It helped a lot. Though now, Natsuo rationed quietly in his own mind...now maybe he took things too far. His hands slung around your waist, your arms around Natsuo’s neck- hands in his soft, white hair, face in the boy's neck, where it would usually be pressed to Enji’s chest. You and Natsuo were almost the same height, though Natsuo had you beat on mass- taking after his father already, broad shouldered: muscular. Handsome. He was going to be a fine young man some day...he already was, really. An uncomfortable flip of your stomach followed as Natsuo nuzzled into your neck- and you were quick to pull back slowly after, patting the boys chest with a smile, looking up at him through your lashes briefly, before turning to the stove to flip the cuts of pork in the pan. “Are you hungry?” You whispered, almost conspiratorially, grinning as Natsuo blushed, laughing under his breath, before nodding. “Good. Grab two bowls, it’s almost finished.” You both ate in relative silence, only your contented sighs, and Natsuo’s soft affirmations of how good the food was. As always. You even had Fuyumi beat when it came to certain dishes. Though he’d never tell his sister that. When the food was gone, and all that were left were empty plates, you lead Natsuo back to the large family room, adjacent to the kitchen, both of you taking seats on either side of the love seat/ feet tangled together under a blanket you threw over you both, before dissolving into random, half asleep conversation. Stomachs full, bodies warm, and pliable. Your eyes closed as you recalled something from your childhood- natsuo suddenly wide awake, as his eyes drifted down over your neck, counting your freckles, and blushing as His fathers shirt rode down far enough to see some of your chest hair, and the definition between your pecs. God you were handsome, Natsuo thought, consumed with the need to lean over and press his face info your chest. Rip his fathers shirt off of you, and swaddle you in one of his collegiate sweatshirts instead. It would keep you warm so much better. Plus, Natsuo thought suddenly, heatedly: you’d just look good in something of his. The icy blue of Natsuo’s color palette reflected in your eyes. God... “Natsuo?” You called across to him, snapping the younger man out of his daydreaming- a deep crimson flushing down over his pale cheeks, as the younger Todoroki averted his gaze, and rubbed at his neck. “Sorry, I just...I got...I was somewhere else, for a moment. I apologize.” Natsuo finally stuttered out gruffly, staring off at the corner of the wall, trying to calm his thoughts. But they were swarming now, insistent, /fiery/, burning up his chest, and his mind. “It’s alright, I-“ “why-“ Natsuo caught himself, biting his tongue as he cut you off, feeling embarrassed. You paused, smiling and shaking your head as you motioned for the man to continue. 

“....why are you with my father?” Natsuo finally asked. Voice soft, hesitant. But firm enough that it was clear he was demanding an answer this time. Because he’d asked this very same question just weeks after first meeting you. When you’d fixed the young man with a knowing gaze, rested a hand on his chest, and simply said “because I like him”. Natsuo couldn’t fathom anyone so much as tolerating his father, let alone liking him. So it was a bit jarring, to say the least. “Do we really have to go over this again?” Ah, Natsuo thought. So you remembered that too. “My father could live a thousand lives atoning for what he’s done, and it would never be enough to deserve someone like you,” Natsuo said, voice heavier now, a little louder, breaking the quiet space you’d created there on the sofa together. Gaze directly on you now. Your eyes. Your gorgeous eyes that looked at his father with such admiration, that it made Natsuo ill sometimes to bear witness to it. “You are not the sole keeper of your fathers misgivings, Natsuo. He hasn’t just hurt you. Whether you choose to see and actively acknowledge the man he’s trying to become, is on you, and I won’t force your hand or try and tell you how you should feel. But don’t question my love for your father, because it’s just that: mine.” You matched the young man's tone, voice even, and soft, yet affirmative- leaving no room for argument. Though Natsuo seemed to want to test that. “So you love the old man then, huh? You really love him?” Natsuo urged, sitting up suddenly, much closer now as you stared. “Not that it is any of your business, but yes, Natsuo, yes. I’m in love with your father, and I see myself living a long and happy life with him. Getting married, settling down, having-“ “having what? Kids?!” Natsuo questioned, eyes wide as he stared at you. You paused, wondering if this was a conversation you should be having with Enji at your side. Natsuo was sweet, and soft spoken- when it was with anyone who wasn’t his father, that is, since that usually resulted in a shouting match between the two. Now though, he was feeling combative apparently- questioning your decisions, which you didn’t appreciate in the slightest. “Please tell me you’re not stupid enough to want to have /children/ with that man?” Natsuo urged, half desperate, half pleading, as he sat up on his knees, nearly towering over you now as you looked down on you. “Watch. Your. Tone.” You warned him, sitting up so you were on even level again, noses nearly brushing as you did so. “Your father may put up with your snippy, accusatory remarks because he thinks allowing you to walk over him will somehow bring you two closer together, but I sure as fuck won’t.” Your cursing nearly made Natsuo flinch out of pure guilt, but he stood his ground. “You’re fooling yourself if you think he’d be any different with your kids. Look at how we turned out! Is that what you want for your own children? A childhood of solicitude and abuse, to feel unwanted, and uncared for? To wonder every night when they go to bed why their father doesn’t love them?! Is that what you want!” Natsuo was shouting now, panic rising in his throat, and you suddenly felt wholly unprepared for this conversation. “I’ll be damned if I allow that sorry excuse of a man and a father, to think about bringing up new children. Robbing you of your chance to have a real partner by your side. Someone to help you care for, and love your children. You...you deserve so much better than him, I don’t understand.” Natsuo was holding back tears now, chest heaving as he breathed, and you couldn’t take it. Gathering him up in your arms, you brought the man in for a tight hug. Cradling him in, and rubbing his back as he began to cry, mumbling nonsense into your neck as you just held him, and closed your eyes, willing back your own tears as you bared witness to something for the first time: the result of Enji’s fathering. Or, your brain offered up weakly: the lack thereof. Even more so...his abuse. Here you were, experiencing the aftermath first hand, and it made your heart hurt so deeply, and your mind race. You wanted to beat the shit out of Enji for doing this to Natsuo, but what could be done about it now? Enji was trying, he was trying so hard every day. But Natsuo was clinging to his hate, and his anger, and his fears, and who were you to tell him he should let them go? At least this way, you rationalized, you could be there for him when they became too much. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Im sorry,” you whispered into his hair, raking your fingers through it as Natsuo shuddered through another sob, and shook his head in your chest. “I'm so sorry, Natsuo. I’m so, so sorry.” He mumbled something then, body tense, refusing to be pulled back to see your face, even as you tried. “What?” You asked quietly, tilting your head to hear him better. “Do you love /us/?” ‘Me’. Do you love me he’d asked first, you realized, and your heart beat sped up as you did your best to squeeze Natsuo impossibly tighter- head in his hair as you nodded. “I love you all so much. Fuyumi, Shoto. I have love for your mother, and for Toya. And I love you, Natsuo, I love you so much. I’m honored to be able to call you my family now. I do love you,” you reassured him, shushing him quietly through a new set of sobs, before tensing when Natsuo suddenly sat up, hot breath and humid, tear stains cheeks ghosting across your face as icy grey eyes met yours. He was nearly panting with the effort to stop his crying, clearly looking for something as he stared at you, before he was leaning forward and smashing your lips together in a heated, desperate kiss.

thus concludes the drabble, now on to the end notes lol

So yeah, that’s it lol, lemme know what you guys think? The plan for this originally was to have some sort of double todoroki x male!reader endgame, where he’d end up with both Enji and Natsuo, by some means. Though not without a fair bit more angst thrown in. Arguments, fighting, etc etc. But I did wanna have them all three be endgame someway or another.  Which, yes, would include incest. Whether direct or indirect, cuz one could make the argument they’re sort of just dating the same person, which is also fine- cuz it’s adorable to me, but they’d all be fucking at some point, even if most of the attention is solely on the male reader, it would happen. That’s part of the big reason I wanna do this drabble interest checks, because they give you a glimpse into my problematic mind, and you can decide for yourselves if you wanna stick around and be a part of it, or leave.  Not to say poly relationships are problematic in the slightest, of course- I adore poly ships, and hope to write some in the future- but incest? Boy howdy.  But I love it sksksk >;3  So lemme know what you guy’s think of this fic! If you want to see it continued, if so, how so?  Feel free to ask me anon or otherwise about kink and dynamics, sfw or nsfw, if you’d like too. I’m gonna make an updated kink list with kinks I will be writing about eventually, so you can decide to stick around and see them, or show yourself out so they don’t bother you. My space is mine, so I will not be responding to, or entertaining people who want to be upset about them, or disagree with my tastes. It’ll get you nowhere, telling you right now.  But yeah. Lemme know guys. <3 Vixen

[neonnoir-ao3]

Some Words of Comfort.

Recently, I’ve seen a lot of people (especially those who have read spoilers/are actively searching for leaked content) lament about their future reactions to the deaths of our beloved characters in-game.

We all knew this was inevitable, and that them living was not an option for the plot of the game, but the time has finally come to face it head-on.

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I understand that someone outside this community might be like “it’s just a game”, but I know it’s way more than that to many: the concept of a female villain that, to many, can be seen as sympathizable and even endearing, is a bit of a new concept— especially on such a large scale as this instance.

In addition, Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters have become a bit of a comfort item for some (with an emphasis on sapphics/wlw, from what I’ve seen personally) in the form of a large, protective, and caring hypothetical partner, or even just a maternal character one can appreciate simply because of her love for her children. Regardless, most of us are here due to some desire for comfort.

Take my own story with this community, for example:

(tws for death, covid, suicide, and general medical emergencies)

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Frankly, 2020 and the beginning of 2021 have ruined me. I lost two men who were the only two positive father figures I’ve ever had. The last of the two tested positive for covid and deteriorated within days, to the point where less than a week after testing positive, my family was making the choice to pull the plug. This all occurred days before Christmas and my birthday. On the first day of the spring semester, having not had the time to properly mourn my grandfather, my mother is in the ER for multiple days with an internal infection that doctors said likely would have turned septic if she had waited to come in any longer. This led to three surgeries throughout the next few months. (Oh, and one of my relatives quite literally dropped dead on that first day of class, too). I am also estranged from one of my parents, and they have been trying to contact my family: they have multiple untreated mental illnesses (severe NPD, bipolar, and more) and they are extremely aggressive in that state of mind and they are agitated extremely easily. That only brings more stress, along with resurfacing trauma and related emotions. Every moment of every day has been a struggle. So much so that I failed half of my classes voluntarily simply because I couldn't do them anymore.

To be perfectly honest with you, I didn’t expect to be here right now. I expected that the pain of simply moving forward would have finally overridden my fears of death and that I would have already ended my suffering by now.

Then, in late January, I saw something trending on Twitter. About a new female villain in an upcoming horror game. And it went from there.

As cheesy as it sounds, this fandom and its content seriously saved my life. In the darkest of days, I’ve come to this tag for comfort. The oddest way I found said comfort was through those who were attracted to Alcina aesthetically. I have extremely long-term trauma related to being bullied and being the victim of a hybrid catfishing/'Oreo Game' on early social media by peers in middle school to the point where I do not think of myself as being able to be loved, let alone being worthy of it. Finding this community not only provided a great form of escapism (and opened a door into a fantasy world where I could imagine my own person vampire milf gf), but also gained a little bit of self-esteem (as many of you know, I share a lot of visual qualities with Alcina. -yes, I'm still kinda freaked out about it-) via seeing people where features/attributes like mine were actively praised and desired rather than insulted and pushed away like they have been until now.

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(okay sorry that kinda turned into a trauma dump but I needed to emphasize the fact that this community has seriously helped me during a really dark point in my life, and I know I can't be the only one with that sort of experience)

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What I’m trying to get across here is that, like many others, this community and its content have been comforting and therapeutic, and it really is more than just a game to us. It’s entertaining and even a form of escapism in these extremely trying times. We all have some degree of PTSD from surviving a literal mass plague— and this is something we're using as a method of coping. a distraction. a coping mechanism.

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With that being said, here are some ways to hopefully assist in lessening the emotional stress:

(please note that I am not a mental health professional and these may not be healthy coping mechanisms for everyone.)

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Understand that it’s just a game.

I know, this sounds completely counterintuitive, but it’s more or less about keeping your level of immersion down. Personally, I can’t do scary shit in general: I have to listen to music on low volume while watching dark ARG vids at night or when I’m alone because I get too into it, and then my paranoia kicks in. Sometimes just pausing for a moment and grounding yourself/reminding yourself that this is a video game: a jumble of code and 3D rendering that doesn’t have to affect your views/headcanons if you don’t want it to. Did your favorite character just get slaughtered? Nope, that 3D rendering of them just got un-alived, that’s all.

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Ignorance is Bliss/We are the Captain Now

Simple: Capcom can’t even pronounce Dimitrescu right, or even acknowledge the way it’s correctly said in Romanian culture itself. How can you trust them to give you a perfect canon? That’s the thing: with that logic, you can’t. What they say is true means little (if anything, for that matter) to your headcanons and preexisting ideas of the Dimitrescus. In short: fuck ‘em.

I’m currently seeking a double major in pop culture, and one of the cool things I’ve learned so far is affirmational vs transformational fandom. Affirmational is where official canon is seen as the law of the land, and followed to a T. Transformational is seen as much more inviting for audiences, allowing them to bend canon as they wish to fit their own creations. This fandom is obviously transformational, so take that game canon, rip it up, and get back to whatever you were doing.

Capcom’s canon is not the end-all, be-all. Far from it, actually.

Want to still acknowledge canon? Godmod your way out of it.

Character A died? It’d be a shame if they emerged from the rubble they 'died in' a few hours later, very beaten but alive nonetheless... how awful would it be if they sulked away, nursed their wounds, and continued to live... (/s)

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Ignore it completely.

Remember: give it time. Once the game drops, there w be a wave of grief, but eventually, we as a community will recover, and get back to business as usual. Think about it like the in any way. Stay with the version in your head that makes you happy.

Get Creative!

If you're into creating fanart, writing fics, or even just posting a list of headcanons, take some advice from the late Carrie Fisher: "Take your broken heart, and make it into art". Make the fluff oneshot of your dreams! Draw the fanart you've been wanting to! dump lighthearted headcanons into the tags! Not only will it cheer you up, but sharing it with the community will spread the love!

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I know a lot of people are struggling with this emotionally (especially with the pandemic making entertainment like this even more important sources of escapism and coping mechanisms) and I hope that, at the very least, I was able to help comfort one person who reads this.

Remember: give it time. Once the game drops, there will be a wave of grief, but eventually, we as a community will recover, and get back to business as usual. Think about it like the flowers that bloom after major wildfires: after a period of loss, some beautiful can still come of it.

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💙

[vibraniumwing]

my heart belongs to you.

a neville longbottom x reader wherein despite of everyone wanting the reader, the reader’s heart only belongs to a certain gryffindor.

WARNING: long fic (really), slow burn, mentions of blood (nothing too bad) but aside from that, nothing else.

A/N: okay so this is an anon request and i honestly just got carried away in writing this. this is so adorable and akdfnksjf okay nonnie i hope you like this. also, this is the first long fic i’ll be posting so aaaa yay for me i guess ?? anyways here, let me shower you with neville fluff. also do you like the banner ?? its kinda bad i know, but i made it uwu

word count: 5.6k

---

The Sorting Ceremony is always exciting for any person who shall start their journey in any Magical school, but if you were a 15 year old in the middle of small 11 year olds, it was hard to say that you could feel the excitement due to the shyness that took over you; sticking out like a sore thumb wasn’t exactly all that pleasing. 

As you reached the front of the Great Hall alongside the tiny children, almost all the boys had their eyes on you, instantly swooning at how elegant you carried yourself; causing half the girls inside the room to roll their eyes at how many men were already having heart-eyes at you. 

You didn’t have a clue what the other students were thinking but it made you shift uncomfortably, feeling everyone’s eyes at you and how the whispers seemingly all arrow down at you.

“I wonder who’s that,” Ron whispered to Harry, motioning to the front, his eyes trained on you, “Seems like she’s in our year.” the ginger continued, lifting his head to get a better view of you.

“(Y/N) (L/N)!” You were called by Mcgonagall, motioning you to sit as the Sorting Hat was placed on your head, the pounding that your heart had is ringing through your ears; the anxiousness settling in as the hat made its judgement, “GRYFFINDOR!” it exclaimed, causing the long table of students who had red adoring their robes to cheer quite loudly. 

Slowly getting up, you made your way to the long table where a few cheers and greetings came across your way from the students. Your eyes were frantic in searching for an empty spot at the table, spotting one to next to a boy with round glasses. 

You walked over to the available seat, hesitantly motioning if the spot was taken by anyone, to which the brunette replied with, “I-It’s not taken.” as he barely spared you a glance. Quietly thanking him, you sat down; it was an awkward encounter, no doubt, but you couldn’t blame him You were as timid as he is when it comes to meeting new people. 

“Seriously Harry- Alright let me switch places with you.” The girl next to him said, motioning the two of them to swap places which the other happily complied with. She then turned to face you with a warm smile, “I’m Hermione Granger” She introduced herself, offering her hand which you gratefully accepted and shook. 

“I know you’ve heard already but I’m (Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N). I studied in Ilvermorny for the first four years before moving back here because of my dad’s work,” You properly introduce yourself, now settling down on the bench as the food popped up from the table, making you jump lightly. “Pleasure to meet you, Hermione.”

She smiled once more, “The pleasure’s mine.” her words calming the nerves that had been bugging you since the start of the night. As the two of you turned to silence, you took this moment to finally munch on some snacks.

The two males next to her nudged her from behind, making the girl look at them with a serious face, discussing something in a hushed tone before turning back to you, “So (Y/N), these two are my friends” Her words making you look at her with a small smile. 

“I’m Ron Weasley.” The ginger introduced, giving you a single nod which you returned.

The one with round glasses then spoke up, “I’m Harry, Harry Potter” as he mirrored the smile you had. 

You looked at the both of him with a happy expression, “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” 

The night then rolled on normally—with the exception of Umbridge’s interruption of Dumbledore’s speech— and you soon found yourself walking up the moving staircase with the trio. Usually, it was hard for you to converse with anyone at first meet but something about these three just made you blend in so well.

That’s when you knew you would fit right in.

---

The next day soon came and you were skipping your way down to the Common Room to go head for breakfast when a tiny firework that burst in front of your face made you stop in your tracks. The quiet little pop it made resonated throughout the room of what seems to be rather sleepy first years who were also waiting on their friends. 

“Oh sorry about that!” A rather tall ginger approached you, giving you a sheepish grin as he rubbed the nape of his neck. Your eyes observed how he shared the freckle-littered skin Ron has and how he sported the same fiery orange your friend has. ‘Must be his brother’ You thought, shrugging lightly as you sat down by the table. “No harm done, Weasley.”

The surprised look on his face was dead give away that your guess was correct, “How’d you know I was a Weasley?” he questioned, grabbing the seat next to you as he squinted his eyes, “Are you a Legilimens?”

His question made you laugh, shaking your head the thought he had, “Sadly, I’m not. The freckles and the hair were pretty solid evidence that you are— not to mention, the reaction you had when I called you by your last name.” You explained, the shit-eating grin never leaving your lips as his face contorted into one of amazement. 

He was about to open his mouth when someone who looked exactly like him popped up from behind him, “Freddie, getting along already with the new girl?” making ‘Freddie’ look at him with a smirk similar to yours, nodding. “Well I was about to, George.”

“You two are twins?” You suddenly asked, making the two of them stop in their conversation to look at you; the realization of how stupid your question was made you visibly cringe, your nose scrunching up as you shook your head, “Okay wait, let me rephrase that queston— who’s who?” 

The two chuckled lightly, the one standing leaning against the backrest of the chair as the other one leaned forward on the table. “Try to guess who is who” they both replied at the same time, confused even more.

“Oh stop it you two” Another ginger spoke up, making you look at her in surprise. You took note of how she had the same features the twins and Ron had, thinking that maybe she was their sibling as well. She was with Hermione who was looking at you rather curiously. 

“Sister dearest, we were only asking if she could tell who is who” the one standing answered, giving you a knowing look to which you rolled your eyes playfully at the way he was so laid-back with his actions. 

“Just so you know, I don’t even know your proper names. I only heard you say Georgie and Freddie.” You retorted, standing up and walking over to the two girls who were already giving them smirks. 

The girl from earlier spoke up as you joined them, “I’m Ginny, by the way. Theirs and Ron’s youngest sister.” She introduced herself, giving you a warm smile to which you mirrored, offering your hand, “I’m (Y/N)” 

“The one standing is George and that one on the chair is Fred.” Ginny explained, pointing at the twins who were playfully scowling at the girl for giving away their identity so easily. 

You turned back to look at them, “Pleasure to meet the both of you” You say, bowing playfully before looking back at Ginny and Hermione who were quietly snickering, “Right, shall we go get breakfast now?”

---

The rest of the day flew by rather quickly, you’ve enjoyed all your classes except your Defense Against the Dark Arts (for obvious reasons) but that didn’t really affect your day. 

You were now lounging around the Common Room with Ginny, watching how Fred and George were selling their products to first years, laughing at the effects of the treats they were giving them. “Your brothers are natural businessmen, Ginny.” you commented, sitting back down on the seat comfortably.

Ginny shrugged lightly as a proud expression painted over her face, “They’ve got a knack for trouble that’s for sure, but their inventions are no doubt the best.” She said, getting comfortable on the floor as she leaned back into the seat that you were in. 

Your eyes roamed the room and you saw a brunette quietly tending to his Mimbulus Mimbletonia alone, you didn’t know what it was but he immediately piqued your interest as you remembered him to be the one to speak up after Harry and Seamus’ feud the night before, making you tap Ginny’s shoulder, “Who’s that?” as you motioned to the male.

Ginny looked over to where you pointed at, “Oh that’s Neville Longbottom” she replied, looking at you curiously, “What’s up with him?”

You shook your head, eyes never leaving his peaceful expression while caring for his plant, “He does quite well in taking care of his plant. It just intrigued me, that’s all.” you lied, shrugging as you tore your gaze from him to look back at Ginny. 

She nodded, “I’m guessing you have a thing for plants as well. You’d get along with him, he’s invested in Herbology.” Ginny shared, munching on the muffin she had sneaked out from the kitchens and looked back at you. “He’s very shy at first but he’s no harm.”

You hummed softly, pretending to look back on the book that was resting on your lap as your eyes glanced at him from time to time, biting down on your lip in an attempt to stop the smile that the butterflies in your stomach are starting to give you. 

“Oh just go over there and stop being a wuss and go talk to him, I’m sure he’ll like you.” Ginny nudged, head secretly pointing at the male with a devilish smile on her lips. 

Knowing that devious smile of hers meant trouble, you gave in and stood up, glancing down at her with a ‘if this fails i will jinx you’ look before making your way towards the quiet Gryffindor. You were always nervous when approaching people for the first time, but nothing could compare to how you were feeling right now.

“That’s a Mimbulus Mimbletonia, right? Those are very rare.” You spoke up as you reached the table, giving Neville a small smile as he looked at you with a surprised expression. “My mom only saw that once back at my aunt’s place in America, the nasty little thing spurted out this sap that smelled so rancid.” You shared, laughing softly at the memory. 

“I’m (Y/N), by the way” You introduced yourself, giving him a warm smile as you grabbed the vacant chair and sat across him, playfully peering through the magical plant. 

“I’m Neville, Neville Longbottom” he introduced himself, carefully moving the plant to the side to get a better view of you. His cheeks were flared at the realization that the girl everyone was talking about was talking to him, let alone be the first to approach. “Y-You seem like you know a lot about magical plants.” He continued, placing the tweezers he was using on the table, putting his attention on you.

“My mom’s a Herbologist so I’ve started young, honestly” You told him, looking at the plant before looking back at him with a grin, “Where on earth did you get this plant in the first place?”

His eyes glanced at the plant before looking back at you with a proud expression, “This was a gift to me” making your lips form a small ‘o’ in amazement.

“Actually, did you know that…” 

The conversation that soon followed was so natural and fun that you didn’t even notice the Common Room slowly being emptied out, until Neville brought it up. “Oh, we’re the only ones left” he said, making you look around to see that indeed, the two of you were left. 

“Oh we should head back to our dorms then” You told him, standing up from your seat and gave him a smile, walking towards the stairs and turning around to look at him, “See you tomorrow, Nev”

This made the male turn around and sported a toothy grin, “See you, (Y/N).”

---

“Okay fifth-years, today we are learning about the Chinese Chomping Cabbage and how to re-pot them.” Professor Sprout’s voice echoed through the Greenhouse, making all of you look at the teacher, peering over to see the plant chomping on a carrot. You’ve encountered this plant numerous times due to your mother’s side-job of growing these to brew Skele-Gros.

You leaned to your side to whisper to Neville about your experience with the said magical plant, but when you turned around, Neville was pushed to the far back and was placed with an unfamiliar face, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, “Uh, not to be rude or anything but who are you exactly?” you questioned the boy, upset that your friend had been kicked to the back of him and his side goons. 

A confident smirk washed over his lips and stood proudly, “I’m Callum Williams, a Ravenclaw.” the young boy introduced, making you smile at him with disinterest, turning back to listen to Professor Sprout who was already showing everyone how to carefully re-pot the biting creature without getting hurt or breaking anything.

“Alright now, carefully-” Her voice was drowned out with the same boy whispering in your ear, “These are Chinese Chomping Cabbages. Saw a few of them myself back in the summer.” Callum shared, making you look back at him with an irritated expression, nodding and turning back to listen to the teacher in front.

“Now, do it yourselves” Was Professor Sprout's last instruction, giving everyone the leeway to do their own thing in replacing the biting vegetable. Your eyes looked back at Neville who was already readying the next pot for the plant, looking up to meet your gaze and shoot you a grin, making you shoot him an apologetic one in return.

You heard the male next to you clear his throat, making you sigh and look back at him, “As I was saying, these plants couldn’t do no harm to me at all. Look.” Callum boasted, playfully waving the wand at the calm cabbage making you widen your eyes, knowing better than to do something as foolish as that.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you-” but your words were too late for the poor boy as the plant reached over and chomped on the wand, effectively bending it in half, making you cringe and snicker at his own ignorance of the subject. 

“Mr. Williams! Haven’t you been listening to what I instructed? 5 points from Ravenclaw” Professor Sprout said, making everyone from his house groan and the male blush a deep hue in shame for his actions, making you look at him with a teasing grin, patting his shoulder.

“Maybe try not to be a show-off next time and listen to the professor’s instruction.” you said, your tone a very teasing one as your irritation from earlier was slowly fading away, seeing Neville laughing quietly to himself.

The sight gave you the same butterflies you felt the first time you saw him, making you smile as you tended to the plant in front of you.

---

After William’s attempt in flirting with you, a lot of other boys tried to sway your emotions with gifts and Herbology facts after knowing your love for the subject, but all of them deemed ineffective as your eyes were only trained to one person, who was actually sitting in front of you.

“Hey (Y/N), are you going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?” McLaggen suddenly approached, plopping down on the seat next to you, his awful cologne hitting your senses way too soon making you shift away from him. 

“Uh yes, I am actually.” You answered, trying to be polite as you went back to your dinner, praying to Godric that he leaves you alone. His mere presence annoys the living light out of you and you aren't sure how long you can keep up this kindness for him. “I’m actually going with someone, if you were going to ask that.”

This came as a surprise for the male, making him look at you in disbelief, “and who might that be?”

“Neville. I’m very much excited for tomorrow, actually.” You were quick to answer, making the boy in front of you choke on his dinner, caught off guard at the mention of his name, but was quick to catch on, coughing as he sipped on his pumpkin juice. 

“I can’t believe this,” Cormac said, shaking his head as he stood up, retreating back to his original spot, making you sigh in relaxation, actually happy that he was gone. 

“I’m so sorry about dragging into this mess, Nev.” you apologized, giving him a sad smile, feeling bad about using him to get away from a male yet again.

He shook his head, brows furrowing lightly as he leaned into the table, a small smile on his lips, “I was actually planning on asking you after dinner.” Neville said, making you blush in surprise, the butterflies in your stomach. 

“See you tomorrow then.”

---

“A little bird told me you scored a date with your lil ol’ crush” Ginny’s voice bounced through your dorms, making you bump your head against the cover of your trunk. You looked back at her with a slight glare as you rubbed the spot you’ve hit. 

You then looked at Hermione who was pretending to read a book, failing to hide the smile that was on her lips, “It’s not a date!” You told Ginny, resuming to find a sweater you were going to wear for tomorrow’s event with Neville.

“Oh sure it’s not and I’m not a Weasley” Ginny answered back, sitting down beside you with the same shit-eating grin plastered on her lips, “If it’s not a date, why are you desperately looking for something to wear tomorrow, hmm?” 

This made you drop whatever you were doing and looked at the ginger, realizing that you were, in fact, a worried mess for tomorrow. You never cared for what you wore during your weekends at Hogsmeade, usually throwing on whatever was for the weather and headed down with Ginny and her friends, but there was something different with Neville.

“Okay maybe I am worried for tomorrow, what if I look ugly and he takes it back and goes with his friends instead?” You sighed, shoulders slumping at the thought.

This was where Hermione chimed in, looking at the mess of clothes before sitting on your bed, “That’s where you’re wrong, (Y/N). Have you seen how Neville looks at you? He’s clearly mad for you.” She exclaimed, quite surprised that you’ve said that about yourself.

“Clearly, you haven’t seen the amount of boys who try to hit on you because you’re all googly eyes for him.” Ginny continued, also looking into the trunk when she saw the perfect gray knitted sweater for you to wear. “Now how about this?”

You turned to look and saw the sweater, making you nod in agreement, “Alright. I’ll wear this one then.” taking clothing from her and folding it by your lap, looking at the both of them with a smile, “I don’t know how I’d survive without the two of you.”

“We know.”

---

You looked at yourself once more in the mirror, straightening out the jacket you wore over your knitted sweater and headed on down to the Common Room to see Neville waiting for you by the end of the stairs. 

“Good morning, (Y/N)” he greeted, giving you a smile as you stood beside him, securing his scarf before motioning you to walk with him, “Ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Nev.”

---

“Where on earth are you taking me, Mr. Longbottom?” You asked him, following his brisk movement along the village, your teeth chattering from the cold wind gushing through your face. 

He stopped in his tracks, facing you with a small smile, “You’ll see soon enou- wait are you cold? Why didn’t you tell me?” Neville said, quickly taking off his scarf to wrap it around your neck, securing it with a loose knot.

“B-but what about you?” You asked him, eyes wide at his gesture. 

He shook his head and replied, “I’m not that cold anyways. Keep that as long as you need it.”

And with that, the two of you kept walking until you reached a somewhat run-down inn, your eyes reading ‘Hog’s Head Inn’ sign before noticing Dean who was waiting by the door, “Took the two of you long enough! Let’s go in, it’s freezing in here.” He shouted, opening the door to the pub before turning back to the both of you, “By the way, nice matching sweaters,” He teased, making the two of you look down to see that indeed, you were wearing the same clothing.

“L-let’s go in, shall we?” You asked, motioning to the door. Neville shyly nodded, walking towards the door and opening it for you, “After you, (Y/N)”

You smiled, walking inside the shabby looking place with him behind you.

---

The next sort of events happened in such a whirlwind, finding your eyes wide in surprise at what Harry had gone through within his stay at Hogwarts. You believed that You-Know-Who was back because of your Aunt’s warnings to stay in America rather than to go back to London; but you didn’t know that it was Harry who had faced him the flesh. 

You had this big resentment towards Umbridge as well so you were completely on-board with joining this secret organization your friends have made. “D-did he really kill a Basilisk?” you whispered to Neville, eyes still on Harry as he explained what could possibly happen when you’re actually in battle. Neville nodded, “He did, it was amazing how he did it honestly.” he replied, making you nod in agreement.

“That’s why we need your help, because if we’re going to have any chance at beating—” Hermione explained, stumbling over her words “—Voldemort.” she finished, glancing at all of you before looking back at Harry.

“He’s really back?” The boy in front of you (which you learned his name to be Nigel) asked, making Harry nod once. 

“Well then, if You-Know-Who’s really somewhere out there, I’m here to support Harry any way I can.” You spoke up, giving the trio a knowing smile which they returned with grateful faces. 

You were now writing your name on the list of students who would join Dumbledore’s Army when Ron leaned in to whisper, “You and Neville look great together” making you look at him in shock, shaking your head immediately as his assumption. Your head snapped up and looked at Ron, then at Hermione and Harry who were agreeing with Ron. 

“W-we’re just friends, nothing else.” You denied, knowing that he doesn’t feel the same way as you do. You shot the three a small smile as you set the pencil down, walking over to Neville who was chatting with Dean. 

“Blimey (Y/N), you even have Neville’s scarf? Is there something going on between the two of you?” The talled boy asked, making the both of you shake your head in disagreement, cheeks both flushed red at the question. 

“We’re friends, Dean.” Neville was the one to answer this time, giving you a tight-lipped smile as he looked back at his friend to resume whatever topic they were speaking about.

You were the first one to deny any speculations about the two of you, but why were you so hurt when Neville was the one to say it?

---

The holiday break was over and all of you were back at Hogwarts, meaning that the D.A meetings were back on track and you were more than ecstatic to learn more spells. You were arranging your clothes back into your drawer when you caught sight of an unfamiliar scarf, grabbing it from under the heap of clothes, you finally saw the scribbled “Longbottom” on one of the ends.

You smiled fondly, recalling how he gave it to you without hesitation, making your heart flutter at the gesture. Bringing the piece of clothing up to your nose, you can barely pick up Neville’s minty scent, making you smile even more.

“I guess it’s time to give you back, I guess.”

---

You carefully looked around the hallway, eyeing for anyone from the Inquistorial Squad before entering the Room of Requirement. 

Instead of seeing a room filled with students, you were greeted by Neville and Harry’s backs, deep in conversation. “I’m quite proud to be their son.” Neville’s voice echoed through the empty space, “but i’m not sure if i’m ready for anyone to know just yet.” He continued, his voice laced with sadness. 

You knew what he meant, remembering every story he’s ever told you about his parents, how his mother would give him gum wrappers whenever they visit— even showing you how many he’s kept over the years of him visiting with his grandmother— and your heart swelled even more for the boy, knowing that what he’s doing is not only for himself, but for his parents as well. 

“We’re gonna make them proud, Neville. That’s a promise.” Harry’s voice soon followed and as their conversation stopped, you stepped in, clearing your throat. The both of them looked back, relieved to see that it was only you. 

“Mind if I have a word with Neville, Potter?” You asked, to which he shook his head, stepping aside and playfully motioning his hand over to the latter, patting him on the shoulder before leaving the two of you alone. 

Your heart was pounding at the sudden quietness that enveloped the two of you, your hand gripping the scarf tighter, “Neville, just so you know, I think your mum and dad are very proud of you.” you said gently, stepping towards him with a warm smile, to which he returned with a similar one. 

His eyes avoided yours, the tip of his ears red that you’ve caught him in such a vulnerable state, “And if it means anything, I’m also very proud of you.” you added, stepping another inch closer, now making him look at you. 

When he looked into your eyes, Neville only saw sincerity and love filling them, making his heartbeat quicken in its pace. He’s always had a crush on you but he never really put anything into action because of the fear that you might not feel the same way. He was about to open his mouth, about to admit his feelings when you heard the door open once again, the voices of the other members filling the room. 

He shut his mouth and sighed in defeat, thinking that maybe it wasn’t the right time for his feelings. 

“H-here’s your scarf, by the way. I accidentally brought it home for the break.” You spoke up, coughing lightly as your cheeks reddened, realizing how close the two of you were before stepping back to hand him his scarf, “Good luck with today’s spells, Nev.” You bid him before turning your back to run towards Ginny and Hermione.

---

“A full-bodied patronus is the most difficult to produce but shield forms can also be queally useful against a variety of opponents.” Harry explained, walking around the litter of students who were trying their hardest to conjure their patronus. 

You were by the corner, struggling to even produce a single stream of light when Harry spoke up again, “Fantastic, Ginny!”, making you look her way to see that she had actually conjured a full-grown horse while you couldn’t even make anything out of it. Your shoulders were slumped at the frustration you feel for yourself. 

“Think of the happiest thing you can.” You heard the golden boy’s voice once more, causing you to avert your attention to Neville who was also struggling to make his patronus, smiling at how adorable his focused look was. 

Your eyes lingered around everyone who was fascinated by the animals that filled the Room of Requirement, amazed at how powerful happy memories are to protect a person. As you turned to look at Ron, you were surprised to see the figure of a Jack Russell Terrier run and knocking an unsuspecting Neville down. 

You snickered quietly at your friend’s unfortunate set-up, you closed your eyes to try and focus on something that truly made you happy; head raking through the endless memories you have made with different people that made your heart bounce with joy.

Until Neville’s goofy smile popped up in your mind, making you smile at the small memory of his features carved deep within your mind and heart.

As you opened your eyes, you muttered the incantation and with the flick of your wand, a St. Bernard dog leaped from the ray of light and wagged its tail, walking around the people in the room.

Your head turned around to call Neville, wanting him to witness this moment when a sudden boom echoed from the other side of the wall, making everyone stop in their tracks. The spirit animals of the students slowly vanished as the wall of their entrance continued to create noise. 

As Harry and Nigel got closer to the source of the noise, Neville was quick to rush to your side and put you behind his back as small pieces of the wall flew around the room. You peeked against his side, heart racing as his subtle minty smell filled your senses, managing to calm down your fast heartbeat. 

The next thing you knew, the whole wall imploded and Neville’s arms were around you, shielding you from the big chunks of the wall. As he let go, you saw Umbridge, Flich, The Inquisitorial Squad and a guilty looking Cho on the other side. 

---

You balled your hand into a fist as you walked out of the Great Hall, jaw clenched as you tried to fight back the tears that welled up.

Dumbledore’s Army had been caught by the Inquisitorial Squad and all of you were sent into detention, forced to use the black quill that engraved deep scars into your hands, as “a reminder of what happens to students who disobey the rules”

As you reached the Common Room, you sat down by the couch, letting your wounded hand’s blood freely drip down. You were too tired to even cast a basic healing spell on yourself, drained from Umbridge’s horrid ways. 

Almost lulled into slumber, you’ve been awakened by Neville who grabbed your wounded hand and continued to clean up the mess, gently wiping away the blood with his handkerchief. Silence wrapped the both of you up comfortably, his wordless actions making a warm feeling spread across your chest, sending you into a wholesome state of euphoria at the realization of how much you adored the dark-haired boy.

“Neville” You whispered, making his brown eyes meet yours for a split second before placing your lips against his slightly chapped ones, capturing it in a sweet kiss.

His eyes were wide with your sudden gesture, remaining still as the both of you stayed in that position. Neville was in more than just disbelief, his heart beating out of his ribcage when he felt you slowly pull away from his lips, frowning subtly at the loss of your warmth against him. He searched for the adoration that he’s always seen in your (E/C) orbs, finding comfort in knowing that his feelings were reciprocated.

That the girl who had everyone wrapped around her finger, returned the emotions he swore to keep under the carpet. 

His silence broke your heart, thinking that you were rejected and you ruined the only thing that made you happy. “N-Nev, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what came over me, you just looked so perfect and-” but what you didn’t expect was for his lips to be reconnected with yours, his larger hand holding your smaller ones gently, thumb coaxing against your knuckles.

Neville broke away from the kiss, opting to rest his forehead against yours as he asked, “Y-you like me too?” his voice laced with hope and happiness as his eyes met yours once again. 

You hummed in agreement, letting your other hand reach up to place it against his neck, the pad of your thumb coaxing his soft skin, “I’ve always had, Neville.”

Leaning back, you saw the confusion etched on his features, “But there were so many boys who are much more good looking and worthy than me, s-so why?” He asked, tone now filled with worry at the realization that he might not be the right person for you.

“Because it was always you Neville. In the sea of people who liked me for my physical appearance, you were the only one who looked passed that and saw me for who I really was. You are worth so much more than what you think of, my love.” comes your answer, heart fluttering at the sight of him leaning into your palm, feeling the tension of his body release. 

“I may not come from much, (Y/N), but I promise to always protect you. I promise that my heart only belongs to you.” Neville said, showing you the same smile that filled your heart with joy, the memory that made you the happiest. 

“So does my heart, Neville. My heart belongs to you.”

---

BONUS:

“Oi Fred! George! You owe us four sickles” a certain Weasley and a brown haired girl whispered, overlooking the sweet moment the two of you shared by the stairs.

As much as they loved the slow burn the two of you had, they needed their own fun by placing bets who would confess their love first and how it would go down. Your two friends betted that you were the first to move while the twins went with Neville.

“Merlin, remind me to never trust Longbottom again.”

“I swear this is your fault, Freddie.”

---

TAGS: @theweasleyslut​ @eunoia-kth​ @starlightweasley​ @minty-malfoy​ @glimmering-darling-dolly​ @sailor-maddie101​ @slytherinsunrise​ @gcdric​ @ge0rgeweasley​ @loony-loopy-lupinn​ 

[aminiatureworld]

A Little Rest II

Characters: Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,104 

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Sometimes life is just unbearably tiring. And a comforting shoulder can be the perfect substitute pillow. In which the reader falls asleep on their partner.

Author’s Note: Second part!!! I realize the first didn’t get a ton of traction, unfortunately, but hopefully, this’ll still be welcomed. I realize since most of these are basically pseudo fics, would you guys prefer it to be bullet-pointed or paragraphed? I’m just wondering if one format is easier or more pleasant to read than the other. 

Also, adepti’s rules and personal needs are kinda nebulous to me so I sort of made them up myself. Watches also weren’t a thing until the 1800s, and specifically didn’t really become a thing in China until the mid-20th century. But this is fantasy so I do what I want.

Xiao

You loved Xiao more than you could say. Every little moment spent with him made your heart flutter, every habit of his that you’d noticed, every little way he revealed his soul to you.

It seemed so improbable to you sometimes, than an adeptus, someone so very disconnected from the world of humans, should choose to love you. Although Xiao would never let you think you were any lesser than him, would never let his nature put you down, you were still somewhat in awe of the whole setup, and little reminders of his adepti status often brought you back to when you two had first begun to fall in love, when Xiao had explained that he didn’t quite understand the human way of life.

And one of those things that he didn’t understand appeared to be the concept of sleep itself.

It wasn’t that Xiao didn’t know what sleep was. Nor was he unable to sleep, he once told you. Theoretically he could sit down and take a nap much like any normal human. It was more that he didn’t need to sleep, and didn’t see the need to do something that took up so much time and left one so vulnerable.

Not that he didn’t pay attention to your needs; he wasn’t about to disrupt your sleep schedule on purpose, in fact you often joked that Xiao cared more about your rest than you did. It was only that, after spending so many years simply not thinking about things like sleep, it became hard for him to suddenly remember that he had a partner who needed said sleep every day. And a day was oh so short in Xiao’s mind.

It was a beautiful evening at the Wangshu Inn. The air was warm without being stifling and a breeze blew, light and cool. You were on the roof with Xiao, the place that had become your normal meeting spot. For as much as Xiao adored you with every fiber of his soul, he was still an adeptus, and his comfort level around most humans was that of an anxious cat – always ready to bolt.

Besides, the roof of the Inn was such a lovely place to relax. You gazed at Xiao’s profile as he looked up at the stars, noticing the way that the wind ruffled his hair slightly, the way his posture seemed so relaxed, so comfortable. One of his hands was clasping yours, fingers linked together, his palm nice and warm; the other pointed out constellations to you, each bearing a story, some which had long been forgotten by the residents of Liyue.

It wasn’t often that Xiao was so talkative, so open. Although he still barely mentioned his past – keeping that part of himself shut away with only the occasional crack through which you might learn of his sorrows – he’d become much more willing to disclose his everyday thoughts to you, as well as share stories that he knew. The latter was something you always loved to listen to, not just because the stories he told were always interesting and so full of life, but also because they gave you the sense of knowing him better, something that always made you happy.

Unfortunately, tonight was one night where, though you were more than happy to listen to Xiao talk about the stars, you were kind of dying of fatigue. A headache slipped in and out of your consciousness, and you found it more and more difficult to concentrate on Xiao’s words, finding they were all melting together into some semi-coherent monologue.

Your fatigue must’ve been very apparent, for when Xiao glanced over at you his whole demeanor changed; the carefree look on his face was gone, replaced with one of slight confusion and definitive worry. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” You shook your head. “Just a bit tired, that’s all.”

“Then you should rest.” Xiao squeezed your hand slightly before moving to stand up. However, as tired as you were, you cared more about spending time with him, and weren’t about to cut said time short.

“Wait!” You exclaimed, causing Xiao to pause, looking at you in a puzzled way. You smiled, slightly sheepish, but pressed forward. “I’ll be fine. If you don’t mind though, may I, uh, may I lay my head on your shoulder.” You gazed up at him, but inside you were struck with the urge to suddenly look away. Xiao was still a bit reticent with affection, not that it bothered you. He’d told you that he was simply unused to it, not averse to it. You weren’t about to pressure him into anything though, no matter the cause, and thus you waited for his response, hoping your expression conveyed that it’d be perfectly fine if he declined.

Your worries proved to be without ground however, for Xiao’s expression grew only fonder. Lying back down he gestured towards you. You gladly scooted closer to him, laying your head on his shoulder, hand once more in his. “You were saying about the boar constellation.” You murmured.

Xiao smiled, kissing the top of your head, before once more going on speaking about the stars. You smiled too, allowing his stories to carry you off to sleep, your head already swirling with half formed dreams about creatures who walked among the stars.

Xiao listened to your breathing even out, still talking a little after it seemed you’d dozed off, making sure that the sudden stop of his voice didn’t wake you up.

Gazing down at your peaceful face he pondered for a moment how much his life had changed so quickly. Even a month ago the idea that he would become friends with a human seemed impossible, much less that he would fall in love with one.

When he’d first met you it was as if something that had been frozen inside him for a long time began to thaw. He was terrified at first, terrified of you, terrified of himself, terrified of the unknown that loomed before him like a vast chasm. It had taken every ounce of courage to hold your hand at first, and every ounce of courage for every step after that.

But he would do it again if he had to, for being with you was the best part of his long, often cruel life. And he would do anything to protect you, anything to make sure you were comfortable and happy and healthy.

“Goodnight.” He spoke softly. Up above the stars kept silent vigil along with him. Tomorrow would be a bright new day, but for now he was simply going to enjoy the moment he’d been given with you.

 Zhongli

For someone who’d lived thousands of years, you’d think Zhongli would remember that tea had to be decaffeinated sometimes.

Not that you could really blame him for forgetting. After all it’s not like he needed to pay attention to whether or not his tea was caffeinated. To one of the Seven sleep was something more akin to a perk than a necessity. Sure, it was nice to sleep. But it’s not like Zhongli was going to feel regret if he accidentally downed five cups of tea right before midnight and spent the rest of night starting at the ceiling, wondering where he went wrong.

Unfortunately, you were definitively not a god, and did, in fact, need sleep. So, when you found yourself staring out the window at 5 am, having long come to the conclusion that sleep was just not going to happen, the emotion going through your mind was something more akin to: “Oh. Fuck.”

This turned into an “Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me” when you saw the list of your daily commissions. Yeah, someone had to go to Jueyun Karst and Qingyun Peak to collect Cor Lapis, and considering your relationship with Zhongli and the adepti it should’ve been unsurprising that you were going to be the one to do it. But your sleep addled brain was having a difficult time processing things logically, and all you saw when you looked at the list Katheryne gave you was the fact that today was going to hurt.

Your prediction turned out to be only too true. No adepti came to ask why you were mining outside their front doors – honestly what would you even respond to something like that – but the amount of treasure hunters that ran into you began to feel less like a likely coincidence, considering the location, and more like a targeted attack. Thankfully there was nothing you couldn’t handle, but by the end of your expedition you were more than ready to go home and take a nap.

Hurrying through the rest of your day, barely responding to the people you interacted with, by the time you’d finally finished up with your adventuring duties you felt like the most irritated person on the planet.

Arriving home, throwing your pack haphazardly onto the floor you almost tripped and fell flat on your face in your hurry to get to the bedroom. Not bothering to take off your adventuring gear you threw yourself onto the bed and quickly found yourself lost in long overdue sleep.

Zhongli glanced at his watch, frowning as he saw the lateness of the hour. The sun was already beginning to set, and though he’d walked as fast as possible, he still found himself feeling vaguely guilty about being so late. You two hadn’t spoken much in the morning, you’d seemed a bit restless and hurried out right after breakfast, so Zhongli was anxious to spend as much time with you after work as possible.

“Darling?” He called out, walking into the home you two shared. He glanced around uncertainly, surprised that you hadn’t greeted him at the door. The sight of your pack sprawled about the hallway only made him more confused, and vaguely alarmed, and he hurried down the hall, checking each room to see if you were there.

His worry immediately faded upon seeing you, curled up above the covers, evidently fast asleep. Unsure as to whether or not to wake you up he instead headed towards the kitchen, thinking you might like something when you got up.

You woke up in the dark, something that surprised you. You’d been out for a long time. Seeing that the door had been opened you shuffled down the hall, still a bit groggy from the extended nap you’d just taken.

Zhongli smiled as you entered the kitchen. “Did you have a good nap my darling?” He asked, kissing you on the forehead. You nodded sleepily, propping yourself up by your elbows on the counter. Zhongli chuckled. “Here, something to warm you up.”

Yours eyes widened as the cup of tea was placed in front of you. For a moment there was silence, then you glanced back at him.

“Zhongli?”

“Yes?”

“Uhm, is this tea, well, does it by any chance have caffeine in it?”

The look on Zhongli’s face was enough to make you burst into giggles. Perplexion melted into realization, which evidently caused some sort of embarrassment, for the former god blushed a bright shade of red before bringing his hand to cover his mouth.

“Ah, I see. That’s why you were so tired this morning.”

“It’s alright.” You finally replied, the initial fit of giggles having passed. “I know that you don’t have to think about these sorts of things normally. Only me making the same mistake two times in a row would be a bit hilarious, wouldn’t you think” You placed a kiss on Zhongli’s cheek, finally causing him to calm down a bit.

“I suppose you’re right. I’m sorry. Next time I promise to pay more attention.”

“Thank you.” You smiled, fatigue coming back after the initial burst of energy. Leaning into Zhongli’s neck you sighed slightly.

“Still tired?” Zhongli asked, voice soft and caring.

“Yeah, a bit.” You admitted. Zhongli nodded, before scooping you up.

Carrying you over to the couch you both settled in a bit. Zhongli began humming a sort of lullaby, and you smiled despite yourself. “You’re too good for me.” You mumbled.

“Nonsense.” Came Zhongli’s reply, just as full of love and affection. “You’re too good for me. And I won’t hear otherwise.”

“If you say so.” You replied, too tired to really fire back, already drifting off.

“I do. It’s only the truth.” And with that he began to hum again. As you fell asleep one last thought lingered in your mind.

If such contentment comes from staying up too late, then I’d be glad to do it again.

[dinogoofy]

Erron black/F! Reader

Old friend.

This one took a little bit, sorry if it's not quite as quality as my other fics!

MAJOR TW for Guns, threats, and Kano being a dick to precious puppies.

You and Erron black had grown up together. Two kids brought closer by horrible lives. Sharing the scraps of food you had with each other. Ranting about awful parents, ranting about school. In your teenage years, you were the one to patch him up after fights. He was the one to beat the shit out of your bullies. The two of you hated that town and everyone in it. You used to think the two of you would stay as thick as thieves forever. Your paths only split when you wanted to live a normal life. Live the peaceful, country way you had seen so many others do, but never grew up with yourself. Erron, however, only wanted money, glory. He wanted to take the back roads and do all the things normal folks wouldn't dare to get his fill. 

You didn't understand his choice to be a mercenary, but it wasn't your choice to make for him. Whatever life he wanted to have was good enough for you as long as he made it out of that shitty town. He didn't contact you much. He only really showed up on your doorstep when he was dying and needed someone to patch him up. But at least he was coming to see you, right? 

With a sigh you stepped into your little country home, smiling slightly at the immediate sounds of your fur babies running to meet you. A blur of orange fur rushing to thread between your legs and trip you, while your sweet pound mutt waited patiently for you to set your keys on the key rack. 

"Hey boys." Chester meowed at you rather loudly, only to take off when you leaned down to pet him. The crazy feline darting under Archie's body as he happily waited for his own pets. It was easy to smile at the warm welcome, immediately a little more relaxed after finally getting home. You stretched at the door, setting your bag down to head into the kitchen.

The first thing you settled on was giving your boys their long-awaited scoops of food, both of them sat down neatly next to each other. Only Archie waited for your go-ahead, Chester already digging in by the time you gave him a laughing "Ok, Archie." 

You patted your mutt before taking some leftovers out, eyes catching on the printed photo of you and Erron from senior year. It's been a few months since last he came to visit. The thought made you a little sad. But the memory of the photo gave you a nostalgic, happy feeling. With an arm slung around his shoulders, and a goofy look on your face, Erron was the complete opposite of you. The goof pretended to be annoyed at your antics, but you could see the slight smile at the corner of his lips.

"Come on! Just one photo. It's not like it's going to kill you, Erron."

"It's not going to kill me, no. But I might end up killing you."

"Pfft- yeah right."

Your smile grew a bit wider. You sat down at the table alone as you finished your dinner. Erron had always been a strange one. Always tough, trying to be unfeeling. Not wanting anyone to be close. Not wanting any affection besides the one-night stands and the women he infatuated. Always the one to flirt, but never with you.

No. Not ever with you. You smirked. He always acted differently around you. More nervous, more fidgety. You'd been in love with him since before you even knew what love truly was. And you had known for years that he loved you back. You had just been waiting for him to admit it. You'd scoffed at yourself time and time again for not making the first move, but Erron wasn't ready for that. You didn't think he was, at least. You just wished he had gotten therapy like you had asked him to.

The scraping of your fork against your plate was your only indication that you had finished eating, you definitely spaced out a bit. You always did when you thought of Erron. Maybe he would visit soon. Maybe you should stop thinking that to make yourself feel better. 

The plate clicked lightly against the floor when you set it down for Archie to lick before you set it in the sink. By the time you turned off all the lights and headed to bed Chester was already asleep on your pillow, Archie curled up in his own bed next to the nightstand. You moved the orange tabby slightly to the side so you could lay down, and he yelled in protest the way that annoyed kitties do. It was easy to slip into a comfortable sleep with your boys next to you. 

The sound of your sweet Archie growling a feral warning was what woke you up that night. You shot out of bed, ripping off the covers and grabbing the shotgun from under your mattress. Archie never growls. An unhinged bark sent a jolt of panic through you, along with Chester, who woke up to sprint under your bed and hide. Archie certainly never barked. Not like that. Not in that way. Something was wrong. You clicked off the safety and cocked the shotgun.

You moved slowly at first, creeping your way over to the sound of Archie's growls, but when he let out a sharp whine, your vision went white-hot with rage. 

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY DOG!" You shouted, finally turning the corner and into the living room where two figures lurked. The lamp was still on, and as your eyes adjusted you could make out the masked face of Erron, and the form of some asshole looming over Archie with your baby backed into a wall. 

Erron didn't respond at all at the sight of you. The unknown figure by your dog stood up slowly and whistled.

"You did say she was a feisty one." You scowled, keeping the gun pointed squarely on the man.

"Erron. I don't know why you're fucking here, but please tell me you don't know this asshole so I can just shoot him." Erron rolled his eyes at you. The figure laughed, moving away from Archie, who sprinted over to you so that he could cower behind your legs. Your eyes were trained on the figure as he proceeded to sit in your own fucking armchair.

"Name's Kano. Leader of the black dragon." The black dragon. The group of mercenaries that Erron had joined. Why the fuck did Erron bring this guy into your home. Erron called your name.

"Set the gun down, sugar." You didn't take your eyes off of Kano. 

"Respectfully, Erron, I don't think I will." Kano laughed, but you didn't think anything was funny. Erron called your name again, strutting over to you carelessly. Archie growled as he got closer. He set a hand on the gun, pushing it down.

"Calm. Down." You huffed but gave in. Sending your friend a nasty look as you lowered your defense. Erron wouldn't willingly let you be in danger. There's no way he would. You had to remember that.

"We came here for some help. 'Know that cave at the edge of your property?" The cave? You found it when you had just moved in, part of an old interlocking set of mining tunnels carved out of the land in the early 1900s. When you checked it out at first, it was Erron who actually went with you. You had a fond memory of fucking around in the tunnel, only to find an old elevator next to a dead-end tunnel with bloody handprints and markings that trailed across the wall and into the elevator. That was enough to get the two out of there. What would they want with it?

"What about it?"

"Those runes we found in it match what a client is looking for. We just want to check it out, and get outa' you're way." You laughed, glancing between Kano, who was currently putting a cigarette out on your favorite chair- and Erron, who still stood next to you in an almost defensive manner.

"Am I supposed to believe that there's no catch to this? No killer secrets? No blackmail?" Kano snickered, standing from his chair and walking over to you. You stood strong, but the beating of your heart sped up. You hated feeling afraid.

"The catch is, you show us the cave, and we leave your little buddy here alive." You scowled, and Erron sighed deeply at his boss, knowing already that he had started something.

"First of all, you don't get shit if you threaten my dog, asshole. You piece of human sh-"

"Just think of it as a favor between friends." Erron interrupted. You frowned at his words. His paycheck was definitely depending on it. Your thoughts split In two different ways. One, the fact that he's using your friendship to manipulate you into doing him a favor, two… it felt relieving that he still thought of you as friends. 

You finally gave in, sighing and relaxing almost completely. Archie nuzzles your leg before running off. You turned your head just slightly to watch him out of confusion when a sudden yank catches your attention. Kano had snatched your shotgun straight out of your hands. Erron stiffened next to you.

"I'll take that!" 

"You-!" Erron held out back just as you went to lunge at Kano. You struggled against him for just a moment before he gave you a bit of a push to set you back. What had gotten into him?!

"Ah ah ah! Sorry, Sheila, there's no way we're gonna let you keep this on you. Erron?" Kano taunted. You went to yell in protest but only yelped, Erron's hands suddenly holding onto your arm.

"Just comply. It'll be over soon." Erron whispered. You grumbled in protest but didn't fight it as they took you from your warm house. 

Kano walked proudly ahead of you and Erron while navigating to the cave. Fucker didn't even know where he was going. You had been scowling the whole time, a surprising feat while Erron was around. Speaking of which, His hand on your arm had softened its hold, but the strangest thing was that he still wouldn't look at you.

"This is your idea of a visit?" You mumbled to him. He shook his head, his heavy steps landing on a twig he forcefully snapped as you walked. He was definitely in a mood.

"This' a business trip, hun. Wouldn't be here if it weren't for that." You snickered.

"Yeah right. You'd end up here eventually." You said the words but didn't quite believe them as you walked. "Don't think you could stay away if you tried."

"-And I tried." You ignored the painful sting in your chest, going silent before shouting another set of directions to Erron's dipshit boss. You could almost feel Erron's gaze change as his eyes remained on you.

"-look, I didn't want you to get caught up in all this. It's bad enough that I'm here now." The words made you frown slightly. You elbowed Erron in the side, trying to make a little light of the situation.

"Better than Kano coming out here by himself." Erron laughed. 

" 'Betcha you'd've killed him the moment he stepped into your house."

"I almost did." You couldn't see Erron's smile through his mask, but the happy look in his eyes was infectious. You couldn't help but blush a bit, walking closer to him. His hold on your arm was loose and comfortable at this point, and you couldn't make yourself break out of it.

"You lovebirds done shit-talking or what?" God, you hated this Kano guy. The rest of the walk was silent. After about 30 minutes of almost tripping on fallen limbs, you finally made it to the cave. 

"Quite a big place for such a little property, huh?" You didn’t respond to Kano. Ignoring him as Erron guided you to walk past him.

"Oh don't be coy. Where'd all that fire go?" Kano was taunting you again, but both you and Erron ignored him this time. Erron spoke over him when he tried to speak a third time.

"Which way d'you go from here?" You laughed.

"You think I know? I try to stay away from this place as much as I can. Haven't been here since you were with me." Erron furrowed his eyebrows, taking a moment to click a flashlight on. He looked around for a moment, before setting out in a direction. Kano followed behind, a little too close to your back for your liking. 

Shivers ran rampant across your skin when you finally found the elevator. Kano pushed past you forcefully, knocking you off balance. Erron caught you with a steady hand around your waist. You relaxed in his touch, and once again pushed forward.

"Ahh! Look at that beauty!" Kano took out a camera, and you flinched at the flash. 

"I'm sure the client won't mind if we keep a few copies of the pictures to ourselves, now would he?" Kano laughed. Being around Erron was nice, but you were losing your patience. It was late, you had work in the morning, and you were just plain tired of this black dragon bullshit. You didn't notice when Erron's arm fell away from yours.

"Look, I showed you the cave. Just give me my gun, and let me go back to bed." Kano snickered at your words, Erron loomed behind you. 

"I don't think you'll be going far." Kano spat on the ground after he spoke, you scowled. 

"Excuse me?" Kano's smile was gritty and disgusting. He whistled at Erron, walking past you with your shotgun held loosely in his grip. You contemplated snatching it, but when you whipped around-

It almost felt like you couldn't breathe. You were staring down the barrel of Erron's pistol for a long moment. 

"Look kid, we can't have someone like you knowing about this cave thing, it's too risky and all that blabber, you understand. You've been such a delightful host and all, but it's time for you to go." Kano laughed.

"Can't tell any divine dipshits about our little meeting if she's dead anyway, now can she Erron?" Erron had never been so out of focus before, his stomach wringing in knots. He hardly knew what to think as he pointed the gun at you, something he'd never thought he'd ever do.

"Hey?" A little voice called out. A little face leaning down to peer at the little boy with his head buried unto his knees. He hardly glanced up. 

"Hi." He had murmured so quietly.

"Do you want to share this sandwich with me? You look lonely."

"Erron?" Your voice quivered. Panic was written all over your face. His finger lingered on the trigger as his chest squeezed.

"Sit still, dumbass." You squeezed his bloodied arm.

"That shit burns!" He hissed out. You laughed at him, dabbing at the large cut he had gotten from some idiot with broken glass on the school grounds.

"Well duh. It's isopropyl alcohol. It's gonna burn like hell." He was cute when he was confused. You laughed. 

"It disinfects the wound, Erron."

"... I knew that. I'm not fucking stupid." He had grumbled.

"Nothin' personal." He finally spoke. The words hurt him as they came out.

"That's not how you use a rifle." Throwing popcorn, at Erron, you quickly stole the remote to turn the volume up.

"Shh! Just shut up and enjoy the movie. Westerns aren't exactly supposed to be realistic."

"Well I can't really enjoy an unrealistic western, can I?- he's holding that wrong-"

Your face started to shift from panic to anger as kano patted Erron's shoulder, walking back into the rickety elevator.

"Panicked now, aren't ya Sheila? Want to beg? Or are you the proud sort?" You snarled at him.

"No." You said stiffly. "No. I want to see you do it, Erron." Kano laughed from the elevator. Erron remained stiff, his smooth voice taking a moment to come out.

"Look, you don't know-"

"I said do it, Erron!" You snapped, stepping closer to the cowboy. He didn't step back, his hand didn't waver. You stepped close enough to him that the barrel of his pistol pressed to your forehead. 

"Go ahead! Be Kano's little lapdog. Shoot me." You spat, the adrenaline working its way into your system. "Shoot me and say goodbye to all the FUCKING years I took care of your ass and bury me in that shitty town we grew up in Erron!" Erron's stone-faced seriousness finally broke, and even though he was wearing a mask you could still see the rage in his eyes as he grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and forcefully yanked you closer to him. He kept the gun pressed to the side of your head.

"Do you have any idea who you're provoking? You. don't. know me. anymore. Sugar. You don't have any idea what I'm capable of!" You let out a curt laugh.

"You and I both know I still do." You snarled. Both of you went silent, the tension crackling between the two of you. You could see the panic that hid under the steely overlaying emotion in his eyes. Only Kano's ongoing childish taunts remained.

"Well then, Erron? Get on with it!" Erron's stiff posture remained, he spoke to Kano, but his eyes remained on yours. 

"Fuck off Kano." Kano didn't take that well.

"Excuse me? I'm your boss, dipshit. You can't just-" All of a sudden, Erron pushes you back, reels around, and shoots through the spaces in the old metal elevator, the bullet hits the back of the wall, and ricochets through the old, decaying pulley rope that held it up. Kano looks up in horror and rage. His screaming and cursing faded as the elevator launched down and crashed to the very bottom of the mine.

All is silent. All that can be heard is your labored breathing from all the shouting and adrenaline.

"Still want me to shoot you?" Erron asks. Speaking smug words with a tone only you could recognize as him trying to hide his panic. You scowled again. Walking over to him with tears stinging at the corner of your eyes.

"You're such a fucking asshole!" You shouted, punching him in the shoulder. Erron didn't flinch.

"And?" You couldn't stop the tears now. All the pain, and heartbreak, and sadness rushing out at once. You weekly hit his shoulder one more time, and grappled him into a hug, burying your face into his chest without being able to stop your sobs. Erron stood stiff. After a moment, his arms slid around your waist, and he held you back tightly.

"Kano's gonna kill you for that." You laughed through the tears. Erron didn't respond. His hand left your side for only a moment, and when it held onto again he had taken off his mask, letting it drop to the floor. Erron buried his face into your hair, holding you a bit tighter than before. 

It was quiet again. Erron squirmed after a moment.

"...I wouldn't have buried you in that town." You snorted, not taking your face out of his chest, biting your nails into the fabric of his shirt just a bit.

"So you admit you would've shot me?" Erron didn't react to the words. He only sighed into your hair, lifting a hand to pinch your ear. You pulled yourself out of his chest with a laugh, and his hands settled on your waist. You wiped your tears, your nose, and tried to make yourself a little better. It didn't really work. Erron could see that. He lifted a calloused hand to your cheek anyway.

"Just because you've come to your fucking senses doesn't mean I'm not still mad." You sniffled, smiling still as the bitter words fell out of your mouth.

"Yeah, well you should be. Kano was being an asshole anyway. That's the only reason I let you go." Erron coughed, you raised an eyebrow at him, clearly not buying it. He rolled his eyes, huffing through his nose.

"... Maybe not the only reason." The smile returned to your face, and you rolled your eyes at him this time. At this point, it was almost like he didn't realize it himself.

"God, you're really not fooling anyone, dumbass." Erron scowled, about to retort when you decided, Fuck it. And clutched his face to pull him into a kiss. He didn't respond at first, stiff and uneasy.  Always so stubborn. After a second or two though, he melted into your lips, pulling you closer. It was hard to hold on to all your anger when he was just so kissable. He'd get his ass beaten for this little stunt. You would make sure of that, but right now all you wanted to focus on was the relieving kiss you had waited so long for.

[peralta-guaranteed]

Wishing I could read something about Peraltiago talking about how they feel on all Teddy's proposals to Amy. They are really akward, uncomfortable moments and Teddy really crosses the limits every single time, and wish we knew more on their takes about it. Once I read a fic about Jake sending Rosa to stop Teddy and take care of Amy but it just not the same.

lol I have a fic on that topic exactly - I have a proposal for you - where I had the cathartic experience of writing about Rosa breaking Teddy’s hand for being so awful, but I agree with you, Teddy reappearing in the show is so uncomfortable each time ugggh. I thought the wedding one was the worst but then he shows up literally fathering a child with someone else and still does it, disgusting.

So maybe take this as taking place before that fic of mine, where Jake does mention how bad Teddy's proposals make them feel!

Jake can tell, just from the simple drop of her purse in the hallway, that it wasn't a good day.

Weird, how it's these tiny things that he's learned to read instantly - or maybe not, given that he's a detective trained to focus on details others would overlook, and being unable to stop the habit when it comes to the most important people in his life.

She tries to be all smiles when she comes into the living room, though, where Mac is happily rolling around in his playpen while Jake is folding laundry on the couch, the very picture of domesticity as she leans over the pen to kiss their squealing, giggling little baby. The view of her in one of her old pantsuits instead of her Sergeant's uniform is already making his hearts do little leaps even before she makes her way over to Jake for their customary Welcome Home kiss.

"How was that inter-department meeting today?" He asks as she shrugs off the suit jacket and continues her pace into the kitchen, setting aside a set of Mac's bibs that can't be folded anyway.

"Okay." She replies, and that's enough to make him abandon the laundry alltogether and follow her (one eye on Mac, of course, but he's not even crawling yet, and couldn't roll himself into any danger on his foam-based playmat - probably). It's rare that she doesn't have at least one inspiring, 'interesting' or just generally informative story to share from her meetings, the only person in probably all departments looking forward to them.

She's staring into the fridge when he reaches the room and leans against the counter, trying to gauge her level of upset. From the raised shoulders and the fact that she doesn't need to check the fridge to know they were going to order Chinese tonight, he guesses it's at a solid 8, at least.

"Teddy was there." She mumbles into the cold, bright space in front of her, and Jake's shoulders tense up just as much as hers even as he tries to sound as chill as possible.

"How is he?"

"Still extremely boring." Then, after a pause. "Still hung up on me."

So much for chill.

"Did he propose again?"

She nods and sighs, her shoulders dropping as she closes the fridge, but doesn't turn toward him.

"I don't know what's wrong with him." She says through gritted teeth, suddenly. "He has a child with someone. He has a wife. How can he look at them and turn around and-"

Mac's little happy cooing from the living room interrupts her, as do Jake's arms as they wind around her middle, his chin dipping into the space between her shoulder and her neck.

"That's probably a question only a therapist could answer, babe."

Amy sighs as she leans back, falls into the warmth and support of her own husband, the father of her child that she can hear happily babbling to himself from a room over, and wonders some more how Teddy could ever think he would be a better option for her.

"He wasn't like this when we were dating." She muses, and feels Jake's kiss against her jaw - a reflex action she's noticed whenever she mentions a past partner or anything, frankly, that reminds him that there was a point where he wasn't Jake Peralta-Santiago yet. But she kind of needs to finish this thought, and she knows he can handle it. "He was nice and kind and he wouldn't- he wasn't manipulative, pulling something like that in public, or deluded enough to think he was in the right for it. I mean, he thought he was pretty great, but he wouldn't have -"

"You musta broken something pretty major in his brain when you left him." Jake's voice is joking, luckily, but she can sense a hint of something more. "The absolute devastation of a Santiago break-up speech, rehearsed or not."

"Harsh, Jake."

"Remember manbun musician? He went downright insane after your split - not that he was probably the sanest person around before that, but-"

"You promised we'd never mention him again."

"I'm just saying. I don't think any man left by you is going to be completely right in the head after that."

"You're making me sound like some black widow monster." She smiles, though, hearing the awe and affection in his voice bleed through.

"I'm not judging those guys, anyway." He continues, and that tinge of something else in his words is back. "I mean, I can't imagine what I'd be like if you ever decided to take Teddy up on one of his proposals."

She straightens up from her lean on his chest, twists in his arms without breaking the hug, and stares right into him as she studies his face - his actually slightly scared face.

"Jake, you know that's not ever-"

"I was joking babe."

"No. Jake. That's not even an option. Not even an idea. Never. Not in a million years. Not if-"

She grabs his shirt where it's unbuttoned, right next to his heart, and his hand reaches up to squeeze hers like it always does, thumb swiping along her rings.

"I know, Ames." The soft kiss that follows calms her just as much. "I cashed out that jackpot and I'm not giving it back."

She hums as she kisses him again, leans her forehead against his for a deep breath.

"It's just... sad." She returns to her original train of thought. "That he can't move on despite his life doing so. I mean, it's been years. He's got a new job and a new partner and a new baby, and he's willing to, what, dump all that? For me? For that idolised image he probably has in his mind of me now, because nothing between us has been real since ages ago?"

"Wow, this is really bugging you."

"Yes! He's barging into my life and thinking he knows what's best for me and that it's him, like I'm some love-struck silly dreamgirl who's going to drop her entire world because he's romantic enough to go down on one knee in front of our colleagues and superiors who have no idea what's going on-!"

Mac's noises from the next room turn from content to disagreeing, growing into what is sure to be a cry any minute now, and it's the only thing that can make them break apart from their hug. He calms down immediately when Amy lifts him out of his pen, and holds him close while she settles on the sofa next to the half-done laundry basket, snuffling against her chest in a very obvious I’m hungry mom couldn’t you tell?! move before she can even unbutton her dress shirt.

He latches on immediately when her shirt is open and her bra pulled down - not a nursing bra today, considering she got ready for an important work meeting - while she feels Jake rearrange the pillows behind her and to her side to get her comfortable, without a second of hesitation or having to think about it. He moves on to pick up the jacket she's dropped onto a dining room chair, drapes it on a hanger in the hallway, and she feels the soft prick of tears in her eyes before he settles down again next to the two of them with a glass of water for her set on the coffee table.

Jake only hums as he notices the shine in her eyes too, and wipes across her cheek. He knows that nursing can get her into a pretty emotional state sometimes, but this is probably a bit more than that.

"I love you." She says, and barely waits for his return of I love you too to continue. "I can't believe Teddy expects me to look at Mac, and look at you, and still think he could ever be a better offer for anything I want."

"Aw, babe." He grins softly in return while playing with Mac's foot that is kicking in his direction, covered in the fuzziest green socks with red apples on them. "You scored a pretty dope 2-for-1 deal with us, I admit."

“Before that, too.” She insists, leaning to unlatch Mac and hand him over to Jake to burp as they always do while she buttons back up, thinking about Teddy’s many proposals before Mac was even planned on. “Jake, you know that, right? You alone were the best deal first and foremost.”

He smiles at her, Mac’s soft little curls right next to his cheek as he sways and pats his back, but it doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

“Jake-”

“You were happy with him.” He says, quietly, while Mac lets out his usual milky burp and smiles at him much wider when he wipes him clean with the linen cloth pulled from his shoulder. “I know it’s in the past and I - I’m not jealous or anything that stupid, but. Like you said... He wasn’t like this back then, and you were happy.”

His eyes seem forlorn, even as he smiles at the now sleepy baby in his lap that looks so much like him it always makes her heart twinge, that little bundle of joy with Amy’s dark hair and skin that seems to know the Cuban sun without ever having been there.

“And I know it’s not - and it doesn’t make sense to think about, but - sometimes his stupid proposals made me wonder what would’ve happened if he’d done that while he still made you happy.” His voice turns low, and it’s probably not just to avoid waking Mac back up as he falls asleep. “And that just makes me think about how I had to watch you be happy with him, and that’s not - that’s never a good memory to revisit, honestly-”

“I wouldn’t have said yes.” She leans over into his field of vision, the most serious look on her face. “Even back then, I wouldn’t have said yes to his proposal.”

Jake’s eyebrows scrunch up in question, his eyes turning into those puppy dog eyes that she knows as a direct hit to her heart when he’s actually sad or worried, and she can’t not hold his face in her hands again.

“Yes, I was happy with Teddy for a while, but looking back at it I realise I was- there was always this feeling of waiting for something. Hoping for something to be different.” She kisses him, careful and short and barely there, but enough to make him close his eyes and lean towards her a bit more. “And maybe back then I thought I was waiting for him to change somehow, but really I was only waiting for him to change into you.”

“Teddy couldn’t change into me if he had major brain surgery.” Jake scoffs, and Amy huffs a laugh with him.

“Yeah. And that’s why he’d never been right for me. That’s only ever been you.”

He finally, properly smiles now, eyes open again and set on her with a soft shine to them before he leans over more, as much as he can without waking the deeply asleep baby in his lap.

“I’m glad you figured that out when you did, in the end.” He quips and earns himself a shy nod. “And said yes when it came to the only good proposal you got.”

She snickers at that, thinking about the gaudy but wonderful boxing belt in her mementos box, and leans in the last few inches she needs to kiss him again, neither careful nor short this time, but equally as soft. 

“And the next time I catch Teddy trying to propose to you again I’m going to punch him out before he can even get down on one knee.”

“You are not assaulting a fellow officer.”

“Kick in the balls?”

“How very mature, Mister-I-have-an-actual-child-now.”

“Can I at least tell him where he can stick his ridiculous ideas of marrying you at any point in the future, no matter the circumstances?”

She hums for a second.

“You can. If you add in how ridiculous the idea was in the past as well.”

“Oh now, that’s a good deal.”