#ally loves her moots

[this-is-ally-and-im-confused]

@snugglyducklingbrewhouse youtraitor….Ilove ya tho.

[this-is-ally-and-im-confused]

CONGRATS HUN!!

we hit 1.6k !!

we actually hit it a couple days ago but i didnt get the chance to say thank you; so thank you very much 🫶🏽💗 for the endless love and support from you guys. it means everything to me and im sending you all lots of love and hugs 💗🥰

its an amazing accomplishment i never thought i'd achieve, and i owe everything to you. thank you.

[ladylokilaufeyson5]

Where The Shadows Dance - The Proposition (i)

Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader

CHAPTER I: The Proposition

SUMMARY: Beron has invited the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court to spend a week in the Autumn Court. Azriel and the rest of the Court of Dream believe he has ulterior motives, and they are correct - but these motives come as a surprise.

WARNINGS: Um. Misogyny. love that for us (i hate the autumn court). swearing (the f-word (as in fuck)), y/n has daddy issues (bc beron is a cunt) and uh... i haven't read acotar in ages so apologies for any OC characteristics and forgetting everything about the autumn court. but i did read HOFAS recently so hopefully az isn't too out of character. also tw: beron

NOTE: so obviously Y/n is the daughter of the autumn court. we know they have red hair BUT i want this to be as less oc as possible so y/n has your colour hair and u can make up ur own story about why but mine is that she's 'rebellious' (as you'll see later on) and just dyes her hair. also special thank you to my moots @icey--stars and @fieldofdaisiies for proofreading my work! i love you guys<3

WORDS: 2.7K

Azriel glowered at the male sat across from him. Eris either didn't notice or pretended he didn't care as he reclined in his chair, one arm over the back and looking for all the world he was in his own home, rather than the Court Of Nightmares.

"Eris," Rhys drawled, "if you have any information to help us with this meeting with your father, we would appreciate it immensely."

The High Lord of the Autumn Court had invited the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court to his castle for a week, as a gesture of good will, and an attempt to strengthen their bonds. Of course, the court was suspicious of the intent behind such actions. Although Azriel had sent his contacts in to find any sliver of information, his spies had come back empty-handed.

Eris rolled his shoulders, seemingly at ease despite being surrounded by the Night Court's most deadly warriors. "I am not entirely sure what he wants, but I assume it has something to do with my sister, Y/n."

Y/n, the only daughter of the High Lord of Autumn. She was quite young, by Fae standards – only seventy-nine. She had not fought in the war against Hybern, and had very little training according to Azriel's knowledge.

"Why her?" Feyre asked carefully.

Azriel heard the shift in her tone. She was wondering, as they all were, what Beron intended to do with her. The Autumn Court was just as backwards as the Court Of Nightmares, and females were considered little more than property. 

Eris simply shrugged, either not hearing the implications in the High Lady's tone, or simply not caring. "That is all I know, I'm afraid."

Cassian grunted, his eyes still on the heir to the Autumn throne. No one was particularly happy about the bargain they had struck with him, but he seemed to be a willing ally. For now.

"What can you tell us about her?" Feyre inquired.

Eris watched her for a moment, before responding, "She is… wild. Untamed, and unpredictable."

Despite his words, Azriel sensed a flicker of admiration in his tone. Azriel stored that piece of information away. It could be a weakness of Eris's, his sister. They may need to exploit it one day.

"Sounds like my kind of lady," Mor grinned.

The fact that Mor bothered speak in Eris's presence was a gift that the heir did not appreciate enough. Azriel glanced sidelong at her, noticing the way her unbound golden hair cascaded down her back, and the amount of skin her low-cut red dress revealed. Once, looking at her like that would have sent Azriel mad with longing. But after she had confided in him, after she had revealed she could never love him back because she preferred females… some part of him had been relieved to let her go.

Eris scoffed at Mor's comment. "Yes, well, she irritates my father to no end."

There was a silence, and Azriel wondered whether Y/n annoyed Eris as well, before Rhys sighed, "Well, if that's all, Eris, I'm sure you have places to be."

The dismissal was clear in the High Lord's tone, and Eris rose from his chair with a nod before leaving the council room. Everyone was silent as the male left, all eyeing each other. Feyre and Rhys were looking at each other, a clear indication of their telepathic conversation, and Azriel watched the two with a hint of jealousy. Of course he was happy from them – finding one's mate was one of the most fulfilling things one could experience. But he couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for his own. It seemed he was the last of the court to find his mate, and he had a fear that he would never find them.

"Has anyone heard much about this Princess?" Cassian asked, looking towards Azriel.

Azriel shook his head. "She is one of the most guarded individuals in Prythian. My sources struggle to even see her."

"Very guarded indeed," Rhysand murmured.

The Court of Dreams debated between themselves the possibilities of what the High Lord of Autumn could want regarding his daughter. Azriel had a few of his own suspicions – to have her taken away, or perhaps trained in combat – but none of them seemed accurate. 

After a while of debating plausible explanations for Beron's offer, the court decided to head home to the City of Starlight in order to get a good night's rest before their meeting tomorrow. The High Lord and High Lady were going, as well as Cassian and Azriel. Morrigan was not permitted in the Autumn Court, so she would stay behind with Nesta to hold down the fort while they were gone. Amren would also be travelling to the Autumn Court, and although the monster she was no longer crawled beneath her skin, she made most people wary.

As he lay in his bed, Azriel couldn't help but wonder what awaited him tomorrow. He was curious about what the Autumn High Lord wanted, especially regarding his daughter, although he was also wary. Although Autumn had helped them in the war, they couldn't be trusted. Azriel fell into an uneasy sleep, cautious of the days to come.

Azriel awoke at dawn the next day. They weren't due in the Autumn Court until the evening, so Azriel decided to go through his morning exercises. The Valkyries weren't up yet, so he went through his warm ups, taking his shirt off halfway through. The morning was uneventful, and Azriel ran over the information they had in his head. Eris had suggested that Beron may be seeking a favour of some sort, so perhaps it had something to do with that.

The day passed by quickly, and soon enough, those travelling to the Autumn Court had gathered in the living room of the River House, just as they had planned. Azriel and Cassian wore their scaled, black armour, while Rhys and Feyre wore their finery. Rhysand held his mate's arm, and Azriel grabbed onto Cassian, before winnowing to the entrance of the Autumn Court castle.

It was big, and made of stone. It was quite majestic, if Azriel was being honest – high towers and red and orange flags waving in the wind, large windows showcasing rich carpets and tapestries inside.

Rhys led the way, Feyre on his arm and Cassian and Azriel following closely, and Amren trailing behind. Guards monitored them as they passed through the halls, their armour heavier the closer they got to the throne room. Azriel marked each one as they passed, something he was sure Cassian and Rhysand were also doing.

The doors to the throne room opened, and revealed the High Lord of the Autumn Court sat atop a dais, the Lady of Autumn seated beside him. Beron's sons stood on his left, and his daughter was seated to her mother's right.

Azriel paused at the sight of her. She was beautiful, even by Fae standards. Her h/c hair shone in the Fae light liming the walls, piled neatly on her head in a braid crown. Y/n’s e/c eyes sparked with mischief and curiosity, skimming over the members of Azriel's Court, until they finally landed on him. Her gaze was mesmerising, and Azriel couldn't find it in himself to break it. A small smirk played at the corners of her mouth, as if she were aware of the effect she had on him, although Azriel's mask of icy cold had not budged even an inch. Azriel quickly tore his eyes away from the Daughter of Autumn, marking the guards posted by the doors and the dais, and counting the weapons each of Beron's sons carried. 

"Beron," Rhysand purred, ever the arrogant High Lord, the mask back up despite the High Lords' meeting all those months ago. "So lovely to see you again. Thank you for inviting us to stay."

Beron rose from his dias and stalked towards the High Lord of the Night Court. Everyone tensed as he stepped closer and closer, and Azriel subtly reached for the dagger at his side. Beron's blood would spray across the marble floors the second Azriel suspected he would harm his High Lord or Lady. But Beron simply held his hand out, and Rhys gripped it tightly, his eyes holding a small amount of surprise.

"Rhysand. A pleasure to have you here," Beron replied. Azriel didn't miss the slight strain in his voice. "You must be hungry. Shall we?"

Beron inclined his head to the dining room and led the way with Rhysand and Feyre at his side. He hadn't even acknowledged the High Lady, something that made Azriel want to rip the male’s head off, but Rhys got there first.

“And what about my High Lady?” Rhys purred, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Beron’s smile faltered slightly, and he glanced at Feyre with a barely concealed look of distaste, as if he would rather rip off his own toenails than address a female with the same amount of respect that he would expect. Azriel felt a protective anger surge through him, and he watched carefully, curious as to what the High Lord’s next move would be.

“Of course,” Beron said, his voice dripping with fake courtesy. “My apologies, Lady Feyre. Of course it is wonderful to have you both visit.”

Cassian gave Azriel a look that said, And-what-about-us? Aren't-we-wonderful?

Azriel sent him a look back that said, Shut-the-fuck-up.

Beron led them all to the dining room, the Autumn colours present everywhere they looked. The chairs were all high-backed, and Azriel knew that Beron did not care if he and Cassian would be comfortable with their wings. Everyone took their seats — Beron at the head, Rhysand to his left, and Feyre beside him. Azriel sat next to his High Lady, Cassian taking his seat adjacent to the shadowsinger. The Lady of Autumn (still not a High Lady, despite the fact that Viviane was also now a High Lady) sat to Beron’s right, Eris beside her, and Y/n next to him, and across from Azriel. Azriel felt Y/n’s eyes on him, and he met her gaze. There was a curious look in her eyes, a look of anticipation mixed with mischief.

Dinner was served, an array of meats and vegetables placed on the table by servants, mostly lesser fairies. None of them looked Azriel in the eye, and he wondered if it was because they knew who and what he was, or if they’d been trained not to. Y/n, however, had no such qualms about this, and stared at the shadowsinger unabashedly.

Beron struck up a conversation with Rhys — small talk, something that Azriel internally cringed at, because it was definitely just to fill the silence. Ever the gracious guest, Rhysand responded in kind, although Azriel knew he was wondering what Beron’s ulterior motives were.

“How do your siphons work?”

The table went silent as Y/n spoke, her cunning eyes trained on Azriel. Beron looked at his daughter with a hint of irritation gleaming in his eyes, as if it was unacceptable for her to speak without permission. Azriel glanced at Rhysand, who was watching the daughter of Autumn with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

“How do you know that is what they are called?” Rhys asked, his eyes trained on the only daughter of Autumn.

She shrugged, and answered, “I read a lot in my spare time. I remember reading about the Illyrians, and their siphons. If I remember correctly, Illyrians tend to possess only one, yet the two of you hold several.”

“There is no need to question our guests, Y/n,” Beron scolded firmly.

Y/n frowned. “I was simply curious.”

“Do not speak back to me,” Beron reprimanded, a burning fury now evident in his eyes.

Y/n slumped back into her chair slightly and bowed her head. “My apologies, Father.”

Beron didn’t even acknowledge his daughter before he turned back to Rhys, as if her mere existence didn’t deserve another moment of his time. Azriel watched the female in front of him as she stared at her plate, and felt a sense of sympathy for her. Azriel owed her nothing — he did not know the female in front of him, did not know if she even deserved his sympathy — and yet he felt the need to protect, to wipe that blank expression off of her face.

“Our siphons act as a conduit for our raw power,” Azriel offered, causing Y/n to look up. Beron paused, glancing at the shadowsinger and the Autumn daughter, and Azriel continued, “It helps to control our magic, to make it precise and nimble, rather than a messy outburst of power.”

Cassian gaped at his brother, as if he had never heard that many words come out of Azriel’s mouth in one sitting. While that was an inaccurate statement, it was true that Azriel never tended to speak in front of new people. He wasn’t sure why he had done so anyway. But Y/n bowed her head in thanks at the information, perhaps still wary of answering and speaking without her father’s permission, but Azriel had observed a small, triumphant light in the female’s eyes at his reply.

Azriel watched as that gleam faded when Beron cleared his throat, gaining the attention from everyone in the room.

“There is a reason why I have asked you here,” Beron stated.

“Surprise, surprise,” Cassian muttered, and Azriel elbowed him.

Beron glanced at Cassian for all of a second before continuing, “There has been an attempt on my daughter’s life.” Stunned silence met Beron’s words, and Azriel caught Y/n rolling her eyes. That raised his suspicion — were Beron’s words false, or did she simply believe it was not an issue? “If it appeals to you,” Beron went on, “I seek to employ one of your Night Court warriors as her personal bodyguard.”

Rhys blinked once, his only sign of surprise. Beron looked at Rhys expectantly, and Azriel could have guessed the thoughts that flew around Rhys’s head.

“Why one of my warriors?” Rhys inquired carefully.

“I hoped it might help strengthen bonds between our courts,” Beron expressed.

Azriel watched the High Lord of the Autumn Court carefully. There seemed to be no ulterior motives hidden within his demeanour — he did not shift nervously, none of his facial features even so much as twitched.

“And say I agree to this,” Rhys said casually, “how long would you hold onto one of my warriors?”

“Until the threat against my daughter’s life is eliminated,” Beron answered.

There was silence for a few moments while everyone processed what was happening. Azriel looked at Eris to see the male’s eyes on his father. They were carefully guarded, a mask in place to ensure no one was able to discern what he was thinking. Azriel turned his gaze to Y/n, and a shadow slithered up by his ear.

She does not believe it to be such a serious matter, the shadow whispered. She wishes for this dinner to be over so she may go back to her quarters and finish her novel.

Azriel blinked in surprise at the information from his shadow. Usually, his shadows would tell him what others could not see and hear — but this felt almost like too much. Yes, his shadows had a tendency to recognise when someone was lying, or what weapons they were concealing, but to give him a person’s unvoiced opinion on a matter was something new.

But indeed, with her chin propped up on her delicate hand, and twirling her dessert fork in the other, she appeared to be completely disinterested. Azriel turned his gaze back to the male beside her, to see Eris already watching his sister. His eyes were cold and calculating as he regarded her, as if he was mentally playing out how this ‘bodyguard’ situation would go. With the slight frown tugging the corners of his lips downwards, Azriel assumed Eris did not believe it would end well.

“Please, do take time to come to a decision,” Beron offered. “I do understand this is a lot to ask.”

“We shall have an answer by the end of the week,” Rhys said with a nod.

Beron nodded back, and Azriel wondered what they were getting themselves into.

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[actually-factually-anonymous]

The Reveal is Worthless

I entreat the reader to remember the earlier period of the Miraculous fandom, back when Ladybug and Chat Noir were something like actual partners instead of superior and subordinate.

There was something special about their relationship. They were friends who cared for one another, who relied upon one another and trusted each other in a way they could no one else, despite neither knowing the true name of the other. They didn't fully know one another, but their relationship was a one-a-kind friendship based upon a unique experience between them that no one else could relate to.

And of course, there was that ironic romance, the Love Square whose dynamics underpinned the plots of so many of the early season episodes. Marinette loved the boy she thought she knew, and Chat Noir loved the heroine who he fought beside: neither necessarily saw the full value the other had to offer because they were blinded by the idealised image they had of the other's alter-ego.

Thus the reveal and teasing thereof was an enticing prospect: these two closest of friends and allies could finally merge their lives together without professional boundaries. Adrien could get to know the clumsy girl who wasn't a perfect heroine and Marinette would finally be able to actually know who Adrien was, as opposed to being infatuated with his model image.

A true basis for a true relationship.

And something they could never have so long as their mission continued. For until then, Ladybug and Chat Noir could only be partners and friends, but their responsibilities would always have a barrier between them.

What a shame how this premise has been so utterly devalued.

-

There are three aspects to consider here:

1: Romance

2: True understanding/personal development

3: Exclusivity/Trust

-

Romance

The first is the simplest and quickest to cover.

The nature of the Love Square was an ironic circle of attraction, Marinette loved Adrien, but Adrien loved Ladybug- so they were in effect rejecting each other to chase after one another. The only seeming solution was for the identities to be revealed and thus allow the two to actually bond fully and resolve the entire mess by getting together knowing full well that their attraction was reciprocated.

That was not what happened.

Instead, the show decided that Adrichat would finally move on from Ladybug and onto Marinette. And after a bit of back and forth, the Love Square was resolved by having the two unknowingly date their co-workers while Ladynoir cooled to platonic.

This was certainly a choice.

It also rendered any reveal entirely moot in regards to romance. Adrienette is canon, what does them finding out they're co-workers achieve?

-

True understanding/personal development

The core of the Love Square was that neither Marinette or Adrien could see the other's alter-egos within them. Or at least, Marinette outright found it laughable that Chat Noir could be Adrien.

Adrien meanwhile outright called Marinette the "everyday Ladybug" and was unsurprised to put the pieces together himself in Chat Blanc.

But the point of the matter is: in theory the secret identities are barriers to a full bond between the two (alleged) protagonists. That by overcoming them, they could fully "be themselves" with another person.

A Marinette with full confidence and self-assurance, but who also didn't need to be the heroine and could be sad and share her burdens. An Adrien who was allowed to be expressive, silly or imperfect himself without being reprimanded.

This is not what happened.

At least not for Adrien.

Marinette has achieved that goal, with Alya. She has a friend who cares for her with whom she can be completely honest with and who she can share her emotional burdens. Chat Noir meanwhile has steadily learnt to restrain himself as Chat Noir and if anything, grown more compliant and less self-deterministic as Adrien.

Moreover the two have gone from partners, to superior and subordinate. A strict hierarchy where all power, information and authority exists in the hands of one person, and the other person has none whatsoever beyond leaving the ring behind. And it has to be said: Ladybug does not have some special fondness or trust in Chat Noir that would enhance their relationship as Marinette and Adrien.

Nor is there any exceptional trust that Marinette has in Adrien that would enhance their relationship as Ladybug and Chat Noir, indeed the opposite might be true, given just how much she is hiding from him already despite it being critical to his very existence (eg: the whole Sentimonster business). Most likely any reveal between the two at this point would just introduce that power dynamic and secrecy into their personal lives, and likely extinguish what independence Adrichat still possesses.

Because all the reveal would do now is give Marinette even more leverage over Adrien as his superior. Marinette would continue to hide her full self from Adrien, and Adrien having already learnt to ignore and suppress his own feelings for Ladybug's sake would do so constantly for Marinette (if he didn't already, I see precious little of Chat Noir in the Adrien of S5 compared to S1).

-

Exclusivity/Trust

The third is the most extensive to cover, the most important secret either Adrichat or Maribug have are their identities. Thus either letting another know it willingly is (supposedly) the highest sign of trust. The less people who know that secret, the more valuable the act of the reveal is as it creates an incredible vulnerability that did not exist before and proves that the revealer trusts the revealee more than almost anyone else.

It was seemingly inevitable that if Marinette were to willingly reveal to anyone, she'd first choose Chat Noir. He was the one who she supposedly had that unique bond with, and vice versa. It was even a fandom staple back if you search back far enough.

Now of course, that staple is more dated than The Dab.

Marinette's identity now seemingly free space for anyone but Chat Noir. She first willingly spilled the beans to Alya, despite Alya having been Akumatised multiple times before over what are relatively minor affairs (I sure hope she doesn't get caught canoodling with Nino again!) and her being a known target for Shadowmoth thanks to her own identity being known to him. From there on, through either her own choice, accident or observation Ladybug's identity has spread to at least half a dozen other people including Gabriel Agreste and possibly Lila.

But not Chat Noir.

This is important, because that bar of trust and exclusivity has been continuously lowered, to the point where Marinette seemingly has no problem with Felix "Genocide" Fathom being the in the club of people who know her on both sides of the mask- even if he and Kagami have no business doing so. But her supposed partner? He's not even considered.

There are some arguments as to why... but they don't stand up scrutiny:

"It's because of Chat Blanc! Marinette is traumatised over Chat Noir knowing her name!"

That would make sense, alas: it's also fandom staple. Not part of canon itself.

References to Chat Blanc are few and far between, and Maribug has had precisely one sign of any possible trauma from the event and it was as part of a nightmare induced by revealing her identity to Alya. There's nothing in the show that demonstrates that she has any lasting harm from Chat Blanc, or that it's the cause of her actions.

"Chat has the Black Cat Miraculous, they can't know each other's identity because their Miraculous have to stay safe!"

This would be reasonable.

Up until the moment Marinette spilled the beans to Alya. At that point her security had been breached so severely that there is no longer any value in maintaining her secret from Chat Noir. You cannot say the multi-time Akuma victim who Hawkmoth knows was a Miraculous wielder is a better secret-keeper than Chat Noir, even if she broke from Akumatization from a few hours ago: she also got Akumatized a few hours ago.

The only valid part of this argument is that Chat Noir maintaining his secret to Marinette would still be required.

"Chat Noir gets mind controlled every Tuesday, his mind will be an open book!"

No. No it will not.

It's true that Chat Noir is mind-control themed. However- unless I've missed an incident- for all those many times he's been brought under someone else's power he's never given up his Miraculous or identity barring direct use of his Amok. Unless Ladybug has somehow discovered Adrichat's identity, there's no reason to expect that he'll spill the beans- and certainly no more than Alya.

Then there's the final nail in the coffin:

As of "Ephemeral": we know perfectly well that if Marinette knows Chat Noir is Adrien, she'll quickly decide to throw caution to the wind anyway. So by evidence alone, it's not a matter of security or trauma, it's a matter of favoritism.

By evidence: Chat Noir is not one of those favourites. Forget the actualization of a special bond, he's less trustworthy than Felix.

-

What is the value of the reveal at this point?

Adrien and Marinette are together. The barriers are gone, but there's no special exclusivity to this shared experience anymore: there's an entire team of others after all and Rena's the one Ladybug shares her feelings and secrets with while Chat Noir barely knows anything. The "Ladynoir partnership" has cooled to a platonic working relationship where all the trust and authority goes one way, so there's not exactly some great romantic addition to be made to the Adrienette relationship.

Exactly what difference does it make to their relationship if they know each other's identity? What would actually change beyond them not having to make awkward excuses about where they're hiding for any given Akuma battle?

Because unless there's going to be some kind of Ladynoir conflict in the next season to provide a new, negative potential impact to the reveal:

The once brimming potential of The Reveal has been completely wasted.

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

…I’m sorry. Not really. Also quick housekeeping: I will not be online pretty much at all for a month starting Dec. 15th. I don’t know how long this fic is gonna be; I’m currently writing part 41 (which is insane, how are any of y’all still here, I’m in love with y’all) and don’t have much time to write currently, and won’t have any time to write during the month I’m off. Hopefully this wraps up before I leave so it’s all a moot point, but I wanted to let y’all know early, just in case it does affect the posting schedule.

Part 1 | . . . | Part 36 | Part 37 | Part 38

“Oh, poor baby,” Eddie teases, absolutely delighting in the blush that pops up on Steve’s cheeks. “Is your best friend being mean to you?”

There’s a sparkle in Steve’s eye and a tilt to his lips that he can’t hide, even as he pouts and nods when he faces Eddie. “The meanest.” His gaze travels to his bowl, and his eyes suddenly narrow.

“I didn’t touch it,” Eddie swears. “Not after Allison warned me off.”

Steve sighs happily. “Knew you were good for something,” he tells his sister, moving to press a chaste kiss to Eddie’s lips before hip-bumping Allison as he grabs his bowl.

Allison squawks. “Excuse you, I made that food, you ungrateful brat!”

Just then Dustin barges in. “I heard food,” he says, making a beeline for Steve and his bowl. “Ooh, this looks good!” He helps himself to a taste, and Eddie and Allison watch with thinly-veiled amusement as Steve resigns himself to looking up, praying for death; whether for himself or for Dustin, no one could say.

“Dustin Clarence Henderson,” he starts, only to be immediately swamped by noise.

“Who told you that?” Dustin shrieks.

“You did, genius,” Steve retorts, pointing at himself. “Future, remember?”

At the same time, Eddie makes a funny little squeak noise. “His middle name is Clarence?”

“Shut up!” Dustin shrieks, resorting to swatting at Eddie’s arm.

“Ow, you little psycho, get off me! Steve! Steve, a small child is attacking me!”

Meanwhile, Allison is laughing hysterically. “Now I know why Robin kept calling you their mom!”

Steve spins around to stare at Allison, betrayed, only to have his bowl snatched from his hands by Dustin. “Payment for full-naming me,” Dustin says, mouth already full.

Steve groans, wipes a hand down his face, and intones, “I hate all of you.”

“Lies,” Allison says happily, “Lies and slander, you love us and can’t imagine your life without us.”

Steve flips her off.

Eddie grins at Alli, eyes sparking. “I like you.”

Dustin looks between them, lip curling. “Ew, dude, she’s way too old for you.”

Eddie and Allison look at each other before bursting out laughing.

“That’s not what I mean,” Eddie assures Dustin. “Trust me, I do not want to date her.”

Dustin narrows his eyes. “That’s… correct, but it sounds rude.”

Allison laughs again. “Don’t worry, kiddo, I know what he means, and I wouldn’t want to date him, either.”

Dustin narrows his eyes at Allison, then shrugs and turns to Steve. “Okay. What’re we gonna do about Dart?”

Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Well, he helped last time.” He winces. “Just, uh, keep him away from your cat.”

“Okay, but I can’t keep hiding him in my closet, dude.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, dude, it worked fine enough last time.” Steve sets his hands on his hips and stares at Dustin.

He huffs and spins on his heel, walking out of the room. “Whatever! Guess I’ll just keep him, then!”

A beat passes before Eddie looks at Steve. “It’s his tone, right?”

Steve starts laughing. “You say the exact same thing three years in the future.”

Eddie grins back at him, and Allison sighs.

Steve looks at her. “What?”

She shrugs. “Nothing, just. You two are cute. It’s fun to see relationships just starting out, y’know?”

Steve snorts. “Romantic.”

Allison raises a brow. “Like you aren’t?”

“…Touché,” Steve finally says.

Eddie grins. “Personally, I like seeing this sibling dynamic.”

Allison cocked her head. “Your uncle never had kids?”

Eddie shrugs. “I don’t think he dated much, t’be honest. And then I came along, and how’re you supposed to explain that to a date, right? So I think he just… stopped.”

Allison nods, impressed. “It takes a special kind of person to do that.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, grinning. “He’s kinda the best.”

“I bet,” Allison says warmly.

“Steve,” Dustin calls, “how d’you work the TV remote?”

“The little shit,” Steve mutters again, walking out to help to the sound of Eddie and Allison laughing.

He sticks out in the living room for a few minutes, showing Dustin the remote and helping him pick a channel, before Eddie’s voice catches his attention. “Uh… Steve? Steve!”

He sounds worried, so Steve hurries back in. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie points wordlessly at Allison, who’s sitting still, eyes pointed at something off in the distance. As they watch, her eyes begin to roll back in her head. “No,” Steve whispers, then louder. “No! Allison!” He runs to her, taps her on the cheek, shakes her shoulders, does whatever he can think, but nothing works. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says, looking around with wild eyes.

“Eddie,” he gasps, running back to the phone. “Robin- I need-”

“My number?” Eddie confirms, reciting it when Steve nods.

He waits impatiently for the phone to connect. “Hi, Mr. Wayne,” he says as politely as he can manage, though he knows his voice is thin. “Can I speak to Robin, please?” One more pause, then his voice breaks when he says, “Robin? It’s Alli. He’s got her.” He swallows, takes a breath, and says in a voice barely above a whisper, “Vecna’s got my sister.”

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[torukmaktoskxawng]

run away with me - part two

Part One Here

Pairing: Nor/Fem!Sarentu!Reader

Summary: Nor hesitantly returns. And while Ri'nela is quick to forgive and welcome him back into the Sarentu... he knew that you would not be as forgiving. But you wouldn't be the woman he loved if you did.

Word Count: +3k

Warnings: Spoilers for AFoP, only one or two uses of Y/n, proofread by me, ANGST!!!

Taglist: @mooniequeen @avatar-lover @taronyuhunter

A/n: This needed a Part 2 (especially now that I finally got to that you-know-what scene on AFoP. I had a feeling it would happen but still!)

Ri'nela is tsahik now.

Nor is honestly so proud of her, and of everyone he left behind. When he returned and realized that everyone in the Resistance was still around -apart from those who were lost to the attack on HQ- even after so long, he was internally relieved. While he initially hated the very sight of his human allies, he had spent so much time traveling alone, surviving in the wild, and reflecting on himself and his inner demons... to the point where he knew that the Resistance was not part of his pain and Priya and the others were innocent. He had come to the same conclusion as So'lek did. They were his allies, and they wanted Eywa to be free from the pain the Sky People inflicted on her just as much as he did.

As Ri'nela shows him around, keeping her arm linked with his as if afraid he would disappear, Nor quickly notices a few things are different among the new Sarentu clan and their tawtute allies. There were several more Na'vi than he remembered. All of them come from different backgrounds, wearing various clothes and different styles from one another, and none of them bore the mark of the Sarentu. Some had very young children among them, and to his surprise, they bore the mark of the Sarentu. They all greeted Ri'nela respectfully as she passed by them, addressing her as their tsahik. The only one who appeared to treat Ri'nela the same as before and call her by her name was Teylan, but Nor suspected that she likely asked him to. Teylan gave the other Sarentu male a wide berth, and Nor couldn't blame him. 

While Ri'nela leads Nor away from the clan to journey to the Hollows, he notices one other thing about the Na'vi living among the reformed Sarentu.

You were not among them.

He didn't dare ask, no matter how much it pained him to do so. He felt as though he had no right to know about you, to know what you've been up to or if you were even still alive. He knows Ri'nela will be expecting him to ask, but he's still as stubborn as when they were kids, so he bit his tongue.

And maybe that's why Ri'nela brings him to the Circle of Ancestors, something he dreaded but knew it needed to be done. He had felt like a stranger in Eywa's presence, not having connected to her since he and his friends first found a Tarsyu flower. Nor felt as though he didn't deserve to connect to the Great Mother, not after growing up in the shadow of the Sky People, learning their ways and forgetting everything he had been taught as a child. After he left the Resistance, he felt more ashamed of who he became and was convinced Eywa would hate him now more than ever after what he did. 

Ri'nela was patient with Nor, encouraging him to connect to Eywa, at least just this once. She promised she would never make him do it again if that was what he wanted, and so, Nor knelt in the grass and slowly took his kuru in hand, finally making the connection. 

He finally got to see the truth for himself, revealing what Alma did... or, technically what she didn't do. While his anger and resentment still festered, there was also unimaginable guilt. After he saw Alma's memories, he also saw yours. 

He saw your fear and pain while walking through the remnants of the Circle of Songs, the place the Sarentu were butchered during their annual moot, now laid barren within the yavä'. He had been on the radio with you as you traveled through it, remembering how he listened to your distress at your discovery in the midst of searching for proof of Anufi's innocence. He remembered feeling helpless, wishing more than anything that he could have gone with you. He should have gone with you...

He saw your grief and pain... your anger and fear. He saw everything you went through, and most of it was without him, when you needed him the most. He saw you every time you connected to the Circle of Ancestors, downloading your memories in case something happened to you. He saw how you wept in front of Eywa while clutching a familiar carved stone in your hand, the one he had gifted you after promising to always stay by your side.

Your memories did little to comfort him, and as he finally disconnected from the Circle of Ancestors, his curiosity got the better of him, glancing over at Ri'nela as she carefully watched him with folded arms.

"Where... where is she?" He finally asked.

"She's persistent in spreading stories and democracy across other clans, like a true Sarentu," Ri'nela doesn't hesitate to answer, having been waiting for him to ask, "While I remain here to lead our clan, she ventures out there, as our envoy, to find new friends and spread our wisdom. She always comes back with stories of her adventures and sometimes brings home other Na'vi who wish to join the Sarentu. She always has something new to tell me from her travels."

"So..." his ears begin to rise with hope, "She eventually comes back?"

"Always. It could be days or months, but she always comes home. Although... she never stays long."

Ri'nela sucks in a deep breath, her gaze heavy, "I can see it in her eyes. She is saddened by us. She looks at me and Teylan and thinks of you. That is why she travels so much... to be rid of your memory. To forget that you abandoned her."

Despite how her tone was soft and gentle, her words cut deep into Nor's skin, making him flinch in pain as his ears and tail lowered in distress and guilt. Ri'nela lowers herself to her knees, meeting Nor's eyes with a stern, cold expression, "When she returns-- and she will, you will not abandon her again."

Nor swallows sharply and nods once, his voice so quiet and strange to him, "What do I even say to her?"

The Sarentu tsahik lifts her chin, "I would do nothing less than beg for her forgiveness on your hands and knees."

~~~~~~~~~

Nor had been living among the Sarentu and the Resistance for two months before you finally made your appearance.

You flew in by ikran, fast and agile, your Bonded barely giving herself time to fan out her wings to stop her descent before her talons landed gracefully on the ground. Luckily, no one was close enough to be ambushed by the harsh entrance, but once people began to realize who had made a quick landing in the center of their community, they all began to flock toward you and your ikran, eager to see you and hear about your travels.

Nor didn't know that it had been you who landed, but when Ri'nela came to fetch him, both relief and dread fought each other in his stomach, his lungs barely expanding enough for him to breathe. He follows the tsahik out of his new kelku and toward the crowd, unconsciously keeping his head down so you wouldn't immediately see him.

Not like that was an issue as you were currently occupied by your friends and family, barely giving you time to dismount from your ikran before you were bombarded with hugs and warm welcomes.

"Y/n!"

"Teylan!" You laugh excitedly, hopping down from your banshee as Teylan runs up to you. He bends low just before he scoops you up in his arms and swings you around in the air enthusiastically, causing you to let out a soft squeal of surprise.

Nor watched this soft display from a distance, a small twinge of his tail indicating he was slightly jealous. He was aware of what Teylan had done and knew why neither you nor Ri'nela felt the need to tell Nor about their friend's betrayal after the first HQ was destroyed. At the time, Nor was hateful and blamed everyone who wronged him and his loved ones. He understands why he was never told about Teylan's betrayal, knowing it wouldn't have gone well... knowing that it might have ended up like what happened with Alma's avatar.

Despite coming to terms with himself and calmly accepting both Alma and Teylan's betrayals, Nor couldn't help but feel bothered as he watched Teylan set you down and begin rambling about everything you might have missed while you were gone. It bothered him that you had forgiven Teylan easily enough, your smile wide and keeping your eyes solely on your dear friend as he talked so he knew he had your full attention. 

So'lek walked up and greeted you as well with a small yet warm smile, asking about your travels and other clans. Nor felt his eyes lower in shame. While the lone warrior was sympathetic to Nor and how he felt, So'lek has yet to speak to him, only watching from a distance with those disappointed eyes. Nor couldn't blame him. He had let So'lek down, just like many others.

He stands back, letting everyone else greet you first, but Ri'nela won't let him run away, no matter how much he wishes he could. Keeping Nor to stay put with just one, pointed glare, she turns away and walks up to you, embracing you tightly before whispering into your ear,

"There is someone here to see you."

"Is it Anufi?" You asked excitedly, not yet catching whatever dire note was in your friend's voice as you pulled out of her hug to inspect her face, continuing to ramble, "Or Okul? I promised them I would bring some of Relun's best recipes the next time I visited. I didn't think Okul would be so impatient--"

You cut yourself off, voice faltering on your tongue as your eyes catch movement behind Ri'nela. Peering over her shoulder, words fail you as your eyes widen in shock, face quickly losing color as if you had seen a ghost. 

Nor felt his skin prickle under your watchful eye, noting the way your ears and tail fell before he could even blink. Standing closer to you than before, he made a quick observation about your attire, his eyes scanning the songcord running up and down your arm, longer than it had ever been before. His own ears lowered when he noticed a familiar item dangling from the cord.

You still had his stone. He wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse.

~~~~~~~~~

After you were given time to relax and have a home-cooked meal with your friends and loved ones, you found yourself in a secluded part of the forest near the base, arms crossed and internal walls up as you stood before Nor, alone. Ri'nela insisted the two of you talked privately, and the two of you both had your own reasons to disagree with her, but didn't dare protest. 

You let the two of you linger in a long, sullen silence, making Nor's skin crawl uncomfortably, keeping his eyes lowered to the ground while yours practically bore into his flesh. He wished he didn't deserve your hatred, knowing that you were unforgiving when you wanted to be. Perhaps it was because you were younger, but you always seemed so... kind and gentle, but eager to fight for what was right. You always wanted to fight for your home, for the memory of your mother and sister. You had wanted to fight so that other Na'vi children never went through what you went through with Nor, Ri'nela, Teylan, and the other Sarentu children who were abducted. Nor has seen your fire directed at the Sky People and he was always proud to witness your ruthlessness... but he never thought he'd be on the receiving end of it. 

And now that you were less young and less naive, it was hard to picture that younger, more hopeful you. As he stood before you, he couldn't help but wonder where had the time gone.

Your eyes never leave his form, your expression impassive as you finally spoke, "How long before you leave again?"

Nor flinched, eyes still downcast, "I... I don't intend on leaving."

"Like you did last time."

He winced once more, voice quiet in response, "Could you ever forgive me?"

Your eyes narrow, "Why should I?"

"You seem to have forgiven Teylan easily enough."

"Because at least Teylan stayed and did everything in his power to show he deserved forgiveness," you snapped. Although you never raised your voice, your words still felt like a punch to the gut, "At least Cortez stayed and tried her best to right her wrongs, instead of running like a coward and avoiding her responsibilities."

His eyes finally lift to meet hers, irises riddled with guilt and pain, "I'm so sorry..."

You glared at him for what felt like forever when really it was only a few minutes. Eventually, your posture relaxes, the anger bleeding away into defeat and quiet resentment. You shook your head, voice equally as quiet as his, "I don't blame you for how you feel. I don't even blame you for what you did, despite how much I wish you didn't do it."

Your own eyes lowered, unable to look at him as you whispered, "I blame you for leaving and not making it right. For abandoning us-- your family."

Nor wanted to reach out and touch you, but instead curled his hands into fists to restrain himself, keeping them at his sides while looking out over the forest, "Why... Why didn't you just track me down and drag me back?"

He couldn't help but wonder. You were an excellent tracker and hunter, far more observant and patient than he had ever been. Many times while he was alone out in the wild, he would dream of you ambushing him, screaming at the top of your lungs before you grabbed him by the ear and brought him back... back home. Nor would often wake up from these dreams and feel cold, often looking around to see if you were actually there or not. But you never showed up.

You bite your lip, "I thought about it... many times actually. Sometimes it was almost an unbearable temptation and I had to keep busy to stop myself."

He glanced back with disbelief, "Why?"

"Because as much as I hate you..." If you had realized just how much those words hurt him, you didn't show it, your mind far away even as you looked directly at him, practically looking right through him, "I would never make you do anything against your will. That would make me no better than Mercer. You wanted to be left alone. So that's what I gave you... even if it left the most unimaginable pain in my chest. It was worse than Aha'ri because at least I knew my sister was dead... but I had no idea where you were or if you were alive."

Nor was harshly reminded of what he saw in the Circle of Ancestors, your pain still at the very front of his mind, the very pain he caused for disappearing without a trace. His eyes glance down to your wrist, longingly staring at the small stone with the mark of the Sarentu he had carved into its surface.

"I'm sorry."

"You said that. You also said that you go wherever I go," she followed his gaze and lifted the stone up to her eye level, staring at it while remembering all of those promises he made the day he gave the stone to her, "You said if you ever leave, it would only be when I was ready to go with you. You lied."

Nor finally stepped forward, hands reaching out to you as he tried to bargain, "B... But I'm here now. I-- I'm here to stay and make things right again. I can make things right. Teylan and Alma... they came back to make things right. I want to do the same."

"Yes. Now. When the fighting is over, not when it mattered." You bite back.

He sucked in air through his teeth, hissing as though he was in pain, your words like venom, "I know. I know I made a mistake. I should have returned immediately after leaving. I should have gone to cool off and then come straight back to you. I... I should not have hurt Alma. I should not have hurt you." 

"And unless you can turn back time, you can't change what you've done," you step away, keeping your distance, keeping your walls high and on guard as you mutter, "I should be grateful you wanted to try and traditionally court me. If we hadn't taken things slow... had we mated... I don't think I could have survived what you did."

Your eyes glare deep in his soul, "What was that phrase Mercer used to say? 'I dodged a bullet?'"

Nor's ears stay low and pinned to his skull, looking like a kicked puppy, "Please do not say that."

"Why?"

"Because you are not Mercer."

"No, but as of right now, it's easier to say his name than yours," the words stung, hurting Nor even more when he caught the way your voice cracked. Glancing up, his heart shattered at the sight of tears slowly spilling down your face, your lip trembling as you tried to keep your words steady, "I expected Mercer to do terrible things. I... I never expected for you-- for you to--"

Leave.

You scoff to yourself, your words ashes in your mouth, "I should've known. You wanted to leave from the start. Maybe if I had let you go from the start, this would have hurt less."

"But I am here now," he quickly soothes, "I'm here."

You don't glare at him, but your wet eyes bore into him as though he had betrayed you all over again. You let out a shaky sigh through your nose as you slowly open your mouth, making your tongue move before you could hold back your words, "... I don't need you right now. I needed you back then, but not now. I needed you when it mattered."

He could almost see your walls building ever higher in your mind and heart, his own beginning to crumble to dust, "Y/n, please--"

"I'm not going to make you leave again," you quickly add, turning your back to him as you start walking back toward the Resistance base, distantly speaking without sparing any emotions, "I'll do that myself. I have to leave at first light tomorrow to meet up with the Zeswa before they take off for migration. I think it would be best if you and I don't interact from here on out whenever I come back home. Stay or leave, I don't care anymore."

You walk back without uttering another word. You don't even look back to see Nor's reaction. He watches you retreat until you completely disappear from view, the urge to run after you so strong he has to bite his tongue from calling out to you. Something made him stay put, letting you go despite how his anger and sadness were pleading with him to pick up his feet, to follow you, to say everything he didn't know how to say but by Eywa, he wanted to try.

But he didn't. He knew this was no more than he deserved for what he put you through alone.

~~~~~~~~~

A/n: This is definitely getting a Part 3 😈 Lemme know if you would like to be tagged in it!

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hihihihihihhihihi WELCOME TO MY VERY AMAZING AND TOTALY NOT CHAOTIC MESS OF A BLOG :DD IM PRETTY FRIENDLY, COME SAY HI!!! OPEN TO ALL appropriate ASKS AND DMS!!! This is a big mess of all my interests hehe Reblog heavyyy i love making friends so plss flood my DMs, i love meeting ppl (i will act weird tho, this is a warning) esp to give me recs for books/shows/media in general I thrive on chaos. PLEASE GIVE ME RANDOM ASKS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEE spam me MY DMS ARE ALWAYS OPEN IF ANYONE WANTS TO VENT!!! (i may not be the best at comforting but I can listen <33)

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Matching banners with @gay--gh0st THEYRE SO TALENTEDD, THEY DREW ITT go follow em, right now, they're awesome :DD Also, I did not draw my own pfp unfortunately :(( It was my irl friend who's tumblr I do not know....... yet >:)

MY OTHER ACCOUNTS:

@that-dam-heartstopper-fan convinced me to make a pjo rp account! if i followed a rp account, its meant to be from @delilah-isnt-dead-yett

follow @evilforestcult for my chaotic ADHD with @fairyycoffin godly mysteries AND @i-eat-so-much-grass gremlin vibes

i also have a Mitchell blog (from pjo)!! its for a rp group with me, @that-dam-heartstopper-fan and @boba-pearl. GO FOLLOW @the-forgotten-son-of-aphrodite

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☁︎ You can call me Honey! Or any other nicknames! I LOVE NAMES THAT MAKE NO SENSE <333 (@graysonhawthorneswife has declared its Honey Honeyington) ☁︎ Pronouns: she/her ☁︎ Age: I'm a minor (no being weird okay?) and heading to 10th grade! ☁︎ Time Zone: PST (im a california gurl, yes, i am ✨magical✨)

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✰ Percy Jackson (Books) ✰ School Bus Graveyard (Webtoon) ✰ Owl House (Show) ✰ Your Turn to Die (Video Game) ✰ Gravity Falls (Show) ✰ Avatar the Last Airbender (Show) ✰ Hunger Games (Books) ✰ Miraculous Ladybug (Show) ✰ Homesick (Webtoon) ✰ Doki-Doki Literature Club (Video Game) ✰Jackson's Diary (Webtoon) IF YOU KNOW/LIKE ANY OF THEM SCREAM AT ME PLEASE, ILL SCREAM BACK PROLLY!!! WE CAN BE A BUNCH OF SQUAWKING CROWS TOGETHER!!!

★ 𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𖥧 MORE ABOUT ME :DD 𖥧 𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼 ★

I'm an ENFP (mbti nerd hehe)

Hufflepuff <33

Can't spell... Good luck figuring out what im saying!

very deranged when prompted

MENTAL HEALTH ADVOCATE (abelists, pls DNI)

GIANT ALLY (homophobes/transphobes, pls DNI)

Hyperactive and very random! (lemme know if you're overwhelmed by that sorta stuff, ill try to tone it down :) )

Chatterbox! Love talking, just can't start conversations! DM or send me asks though!

very very curious, love talking to ppl about studies and fun facts

Character my friends associate me with and I relate to the most: Luz Noceda from the Owl House

My vibes are all over the place- (im emo, cutesy, and chaotic)

I MISS TONS OF SOCIAL CUESS!!! I'm trying to work on it but if i ever overstep my boundaries or make you uncomfy, pleasee let me know <33 im just a bit oblivious sometimes

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My amazing moots! You all make me so happy :DD (pleaseee remind me to add you or take you off <33 ) @ashthenerdtheythem @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @whyamionthisgodforsakensite @queen-of-weird-girl-nation @boredcoldandhungry @nosanehumanallowed @roselandsrl @apollocabinrep @mybedroomceilingsbored @gay--gh0st @catinasink @redmegarex @chaoticgremlin-1 @totalcharliespringsimp @cabin-7-bitch @lunarcat982 @chriscrosswallflower-blog @obsessingoverl @pretentious-media @small-giggle @rose-bug-bear @aheartstopperfan @dandelionsarenotweeds @rookhuntt @i-eat-so-much-grass @justafrogghost @fairyycoffin @th3-st4r-gur1 @brains-out-rn @arsenic-laced-tums @dracosleftarsecheek @boba-pearl @tarantulaluv @rainydaywithcats @touslin @gay-little-isopod @ali-da-demon @kairos-in-space @thebookshelflord

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Okieeee I THINK THATS IT :OO i am done aesthicifyingfjhjjendndjfgh my into post!! I have no tagging system so uhhhhh my blog is pretty much the equivalent of screaming into the void :)) Have fun in my little corner of chaos and pleaseeeeeeee say hi, i love talking with ppl and making friends!!!

Thanks for reading! (its a lot, ik, i blabber, i tried to bold key parts) Boop! Bye <33

[artsygirl0315]

[Took a real long time to finally be posted but here they are..]

NEGATIVE Sector PHP Reference Sheets!

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.

.

.

•Much like their positive counterparts, They work as a group but they lack the respect and kindness with each other, which is the distinct opposite to their positive selves.

•They don't have any 'friends' nor allies, Well, except for Relyt and Ebeohp.

•Allem, the 'team leader', forbids them from making any connections without her knowledge but these two goes behind her back and makes ammends with a few individuals, The LTDFCD, especially.

•Relyt and Ebeohp were always seen as the weaker ones so it was easy for them to be underestimated a lot, Sometimes Hiamerej would snitch on them IF he ever catches them in the act.

•Nave and Allem were the tougher ones in the group so they lead the fighting just fine, Hiamerej isn't exactly anything special so he's just the useful sidekick or the human shield, second to Relyt.

•After the events of Operation P.O.O.L., Allem went back into hiding while the rest of the sector were mingling with the new normal without -Numbuh 4's control.

•It was quite concerning because she's always been under Yllaw's command and ever since he's taken away, she doesn't know what to do with herself. But she'll come around, eventually. Just a little push.

★Fun fact; Allem and Ardnassela used to date! Although, broke it off because Allem kept pushing Ardnassela away and ghosted her whenever she's not in DNK missions, At least Allem cared enough that maybe she's hurting her so she was the one who let go.

She didn't like the idea of her finding someone new at first but soon came to accept it. She looked so happy, Who is she to get in the way of that.

(Special thanks and credits to @kandykatz for the ideas of their designs, I loved theirs so much and kept a few things here and there with some slight changes but props to them for the overall idea!! Thank you awesome moot!!💙)

[theronanlynchshow]

my overdue intro post

hiii!!!

I guess it's finally time to do an intro post lol. I’m in high school, bisexual (but not single) she/her pronouns but idc. I’m a slytherin, aries, and intj. You can call me ronan or rose on here.

DNI if you are

homophobic, transphobic, racist, ableist

empty blog (i will block you if you look like a bot

an artist trying to sell me something (I DO NOT WANT TO BUY YOUR ART AND WILL BLOCK YOU)

MY DMS AND ASKS ARE OPEN, MY FANDOMS ARE

Harry Potter (Marauders)

Voltron

Shera

Hellaverse

Hamilton

The Dragon Prince

Avatar The Last Airbender & TLOK

Stranger Things

Star Wars

Arcane

Death Note

It

Spiderverse

Marvel

Nimona

Grishaverse

Zelda BOTW

The Raven Cycle (where my username’s from)

All For The Game

most horror movies

most musicals

most YA books also (too many to tag)

Agatha All Along

Music i like

Lorde

Zella Day

Halsey

Ado

VERITE

Chappell Roan

Sabrina Carpenter

Ariana Grande

Lady Gaga

PVRIS

KiNG MALA

Emlyn

Melina KB

Cloudy June

Allie X

Girl in red

UPSAHL

Marina

Dove Cameron

Lana del Rey

Tate McRae

Billie Eilish

Florence & the machine

Olivia Rodrigo

I do color guard, winter guard, and competitive speech & debate so expect rants about both lmao.

I beta read on Ao3 for fun, if you need a beta reader dm me.

Also check out my Hamilton HS AU on Ao3 (same username)

I mostly post funny shit from my life but sometimes fandom things also

this blog is rated PFG for pretty fucking gay 😝

100 followers event!!!!!!! (Adding this to my intro so it stays pinned)

send me an ask with one or more of these & i’ll answer!!!! ily guys <3

🏳️: what flag/rifle toss i think fits you best & why

🎬/���: what character from one of the fandoms i’m in you remind me of

🗒️: i’ll assign you a random unhinged quote from my notes app

🎼: i’ll assign you a song or album that i think you’ll like

#100 followers#100 followers event#event#<3#love my moots <3#i love asks!

[ch4rliespringg]

intro post! 🧸

hi my names allie! my pronouns are she/her, im a lesbian, i love sleep, dan & phil, & my gf!

music 🎧

conan gray, lana del rey, olivia rodrigo, clario, sabrina carptender, beabadobee, billie eilish, gigi perez, tyler the creator, twenty one pilots, alessi rose, charli xcx, troye sivan, melaine martinez, chappell roan, solya, phoebe bridgers, boygenius, the neighbourhood, & frankie cosmos.

interests 🗝️

dan & phil, osemanverse, sleep, reading, & nature.

books 📖

solitare, if he had been with me, they both die at the end, you will get through this night, radio silence, twlight, & the perks of being a wallflower.

films/shows 📺

10 things i hate about you, heartstopper, gossip girl, young royals, alice in wonderland, agtha all along, modern family, young royals, call me by your name, the perks of being a wallflower, beautiful boy, thirteen, i saw the tv glow, & coarline.

im always looking for moots and im pretty much always active if im not at school, busy, or sleeping. dm if you want my socials and age! (im a minor btw)

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

A Freak and A Basket Case “As The Good Lord Intended” - Love Walks In

Eddie Munson x Original Character

Has the @stranger-things-x-oc-blog community inspired me to finally write about Allie? Yes. Yes they have. So please, have this Drabble about A Freak and A Basket Case that was written as the Good Lord intended: as an OC fic.

Divider by: @strangergraphics-archive

Big shout out to all my friends and moots in the Eddie Munson fandom. There are so many people to tag and I don’t wanna miss anyone, so if you’re a moot and you’re reading this, I love you 🥺❤️.

Trigger Warnings: Inappropriate and potentially triggering use of finger guns, suicide mention. In case you don’t like stuff like that, I’d avoid reading ❤️.

It had started so simple: with a smile.

“—and I trust in this group of fine, young Americans I see before me today, that you will not squander the opportunities given to you…”

They were playing with one another. Like unsupervised little kids. Pulling faces. Stifling laughter behind their hands.

“— trust that you will not bring shame to our school and that you will always conduct yourselves with dignity, honor and respect—…”

Eyes so dark brown they were almost black sparkled with the light of one thousand stars. Batting in a playful game of peekaboo behind a curtain of shaggy curls twirled around ringed fingers, deep grooves of smile lines betraying true intentions that had been previously hidden by his intimidating frown.

“— and that you will not let shame come to the good name of the Hawkins High Tigers—…”

Principal Higgins droned on, addressing the student body for the first assembly of the semester to encourage greatness in the faces of the bright, smiling, predominantly white young Americans of Hawkins High School. Some looked reverently back at him; in particular a new crop of senior students in Izod and Ralph Lauren sat up ramrod straight and smart.

They took away the attention from the majority of students struggling to stay awake after being forced to assemble at seven fifteen am on a Monday after summer break. Higgins made a point to make direct eye contact with his preppy flock’s bright blue eyes that matched his own, hands on either side of his podium like a preacher doling deliverance from a pulpit.

While the principal spoke his words of encouragement to his little audience of polished white collar perfection, two freaks were playing with one another, horsing around from worlds apart: the boy lurking off to one corner of the bleachers on the side where the scoreboard read “home”, the girl aptly placed on “visitor”.

Alejandra Perea giggled softly, covering her eyes with her hands as she peeked through the gaps of her fingers, cheeks positively red as the guy from across the way continued to play up like a fool.

She flexed her fingers, closing and opening them like the petals on a flower. Then positioned them lower, wriggling them by her lips. Imitating little tentacles. Like she was pretending to be a mindflayer.

The metalhead flared his nostrils and pursed his lips. He turned – maintaining side eye contact – and from that angle it looked like he had his finger up his nose. Dexterous fingers pretend picked, brown eyes squinted as if examining a booger, then he pretend flicked towards the gaggle of girls sitting a few rows below him.

Alejandra nearly chewed a hole in her jacket cuff trying to stop from laughing.

The guy smiled even wider. A long tongue stuck out at her, dark brown eyes crossed.

She snorted, covering her gap tooth grin, before making a fish face at him. Waving her hands like fins by her cheeks.

It had all started with a smile…

At first, they had both looked so intimidating. Both with a case of faces that looked bitchy and rude when at rest. Alejandra didn’t know a soul in this crowd, and she had been livid when her mother pulled into the drop off lane this morning. She thought she could hurt everyone before they hurt her, but she was wrong. Instead of trying to be a Bene Gesserit, she should have listened to the hundreds of afterschool specials that had tried to warn her of the worst possible outcomes of high school: bullying, being the new meat, becoming a victim.

During assembly, she found herself alone. Her attitude had soured her seat mates from having her around them, and she hid in the upper corner of the visitor bleachers while clutching her backpack to her and trying to read from a very old and rough Dune hardcover. Ten minutes ago the only man that would have managed to make her smile would have been the Lisan Al Gaib of Arrakis himself, that dreamy blue eyed Shortening of the Way that lived within the dog eared pages of her second hand Frank Herbert novel never failed to make her feel like life was worth living.

The expression Alejandra put on her face was angry, hateful. She bundled up in her quilted Carhartts jacket even though it was 80 degrees outside and high humidity. Her dress was as gray as her mood. And she wore a scowl to match. The whole look screamed Alia Atreides to her, but all anyone else saw was a poor blue collar shrimp attempting to cover up her cherry red nose and tear stained cheeks.

Then she caught sight of him.

He was an honest to god real life Eddie Van Halen – at first Alejandra had to do a double take to make sure it wasn’t actually the rockstar himself – sitting around the upper corner of the home bleachers. He was surrounded by guys in leather who were secretly passing around a plastic water bottle from which they took furtive sips, and he sat like a king on his throne with his elbows on his knees and his fingers steepled.

Not-Van-Halen’s face was scrunched up into a hateful squint. He looked like he would throw a chair if asked the time.

And she couldn’t stop staring at him.

He’d made eye contact with Alejandra. Raised a suspicious eyebrow. Challenged her silently to a stare down as his lip curled up in a snarl. And because he had on a shirt with a familiar outline of an angel falling over the words “US Tour 1975”, Alejandra Perea did something so natural and automatic, that it caught Not-Van-Halen off guard.

She smiled at him, and waved a timid hand.

Now here they were: two silly geese behaving like they were in elementary school, playing and pulling faces. They couldn’t have told you who started it if asked, they only knew that both were determined to finish it.

“And now,” Principal Higgins clapped his hands together, “I ask that everyone please rise for the Hawkins High Fight Song.”

Everyone stood in a grumble of protests and snickers, and half heartedly began to sing as the school band began to play. After being conditioned for the last few years, the more senior students knew their parts and played them well except for Not-Van-Halen and his entourage of friends, and for Alejandra, who didn’t know the words anyways.

She kept her eye on Not-Van-Halen, watching his friends rib and tease him as the others sang as one body the most convoluted, brainwashed lyrics that made up their school’s fight song. It was like watching a group of Fremen captives being forced to sing praises for Baron Harkonnen, and Alejandra made eye contact with Not-Van-Halen amidst the chaos.

She pressed her index and middle finger together, and with thumb up, pressed them to her temple. Universal high school code for boring, convoluted ass shit that just made you wanna paint the walls with your own dura mater.

Not-Van-Halen widened his eyes and put a hand over his chest as his mouth pulled a frown, before nodding in agreement and pulling another face. His tongue was waggling out at her, and little devil horns were made on his head with his spindly fingers, and Alejandra had to slap her hand over her mouth to stop from screeching out loud. The sound was muffled by the crescendo of students coming to the close of the song, and just as she was about to retaliate the dismissal bell rang. Shrill. Overpowering.

A grim reminder that she was still in Hawkins.

Principal Higgins made sure to clarify to his selected group of precious baby birds that the seniors were to head in the direction of the school cafeteria to Ms. Kelley and Mr. Kaminski for their schedules and locker assignments, doling out similar information half heartedly to the retreating freshmen, sophomore, and junior students.

Alejandra kept her eyes locked on Not-Van-Halen for as long as she could, but lost sight of him when she was overtaken by a throng of students all hurrying to move past her.

“Fuck, welp, I guess this is where we leave you and Jeff.”

Gareth Emerson took one more swig of the plastic bottle of Everclear that he’d snuck that morning from his mother’s Sears Roebuck liquor cabinet. Frank Kraguljac picked up his backpack and began to stand, grunting as he stretched. Frank was already complaining about the wait, pissed off because he’d lost a d4 in the bleachers just walking up to the highest point to sit down.

“Where are we even going?” Frank complained.

“Didn’t you hear Higgs? Front office, dude.” Gareth said, looking on as Eddie seemed to be searching for something, “You and Jeff are in the cafeteria, right Eddie?”

No response from his fearless leader.

“Hey… Eddie!”

“Huh?!”

His large brown eyes looked desperate, brows knitted together in a frown. The expression was concerning, certainly not something that self respecting Eddie Fucking Munson would ordinarily wear.

“What are you looking at?” Gareth asked, and all eyes turned to where Eddie had been looking previously.

The metalhead didn’t respond, pausing as he took one more glance out towards the visitor bleachers, as if hoping for something once more.

“I was waving at that new girl…” he muttered.

“Huh?”

“New girl?” Jeff Schaffer asked, looking around in the throng of students retreating.

“Yeah, you know, the one who kinda looks like that Valerie Bertinelli chick. Gray dress, quilted jacket, cute little bob cut…?” He replied, his voice trailing off as he continued to look out.

For obvious reasons, the prospect of seeing someone who resembled the guilty pleasure that was Barbara Cooper Royer had Jeff and Frank searching up and down. Gareth couldn’t place the name to the face, until he remembered that one of his favorite guitar players had married about four years ago.

“Valerie Bertinelli…? You mean the one that’s married to Van Halen?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah, that one. She looks a lot like her! The new girl… the one that was sitting up higher in the bleachers, you know the one?” Eddie’s voice had become a bit more exasperated, growing increasingly flustered as he looked down at the slimming crowd.

“Uhhhhh…”

They all looked around. Jeff stood higher, leaned forward, and he squinted a little as he put a hand over his eyes. He repeated “Bertinelli… Bertinelli…” like a mantra as he searched.

“Bob cut… kinda curly…? Dark brown hair? Rick Moranis type glasses?” He asked.

Eddie’s eyes lit up, a smile tugging at his lips, and his wild hair whipping back and forth.

“Yes! That’s her! That’s her! You’ve seen her, right?”

“Yeah, she’s standing right over there. That’s her right? In the brown jacket with all those patches?”

Jeff pointed out Not-Bertinelli standing in line to leave. She seemed to be looking for someone, bouncing on the soles of her feet.

Leaning over his friend and slapping the back of his leather coat, Eddie followed the point, nearly sending the two of them toppling over the bleachers. Jeff got annoyed and hissed a snide “get off my ass” before Eddie moved.

Utterly smitten. Still with more faces to pull.

“Yeah…” he breathed, his grin overtaking his face, “Yeah, that’s her.”

They all stared. Frank catching flies with his mouth open, Jeff still squinting, and Gareth with his right hand over his mouth.

“… Bertinelli, huh?” Gareth asked, skeptical.

Eddie nodded.

“… she looks more like a hobbit.” Jeff admitted.

The comparison caused Eddie to splutter and the rest of Hellfire Club to laugh, nearly choking on their own spit.

“Excuse me?” Eddie blurted, “You think she looks like a hobbit?!”

“Oh shit...” Gareth grinned, “Yeah I totally see it. Darker skin tone, chubby face, curly brown hair… and she’s tiny!”

“She just blends right into the crowd.” Jeff nodded, “Good at hiding? Brown skin? That’s a Harfoot, dude, not Bertinelli.”

“Shut up!” Eddie hissed, his face turning red as he shoved a laughing Jeff, “Be nice! She totally looks like Bertinelli!”

“Man, that’s a Baggins from Bag End. Admit it!”

“Gareth shut your mouth or I swear to God your long rests will never know peace-…”

“Bertinelli Baggins of the Shire.” Frank blurted out.

The boys began to howl with laughter, while Eddie shoved them all. Each one alternated with different fucked up variations of jokes. Asking if she’d used the one ring to disappear from view. Suggesting that they corner her during lunch and see if they could check for curlicues on her feet.

All the while Eddie was trying to call his men to order. Screeching like an angry barn owl for them to shut the fuck up, it’s not funny, his beet-red face evidence that he was hypocritically fighting for his life to not bark out his own unhinged laughter at the jokes. Because secretly he knew they were right. The cute new girl was totally a hobbit.

Bertinelli Baggins…

Eddie silently hoped that maybe he’d manage to get lucky and find her again. Even if he had to look in every smial this side of Hawkins High School to find the Bag End she called home.

[this-is-ally-and-im-confused]

LEAVE A MESSAGE PROMPTS!

Request any guy! I’m in a writing mood lolz

“It’s just two hours to get there babe, I can make it back in an hour or so.”

“Call me back…please?”

“Did you *insert task here* before you left? I have no clue what I’m doing.”

“The boys are out and they’re angry, they’re looking for blood.”

“I had all and the most of you, some and now none of you. Take me back to the night we met.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, I’m haunted by the ghost of you.”

“Can you come pick me up?”

“If we don’t leave this town, we might never make it out.”

“Honey come over, the party’s gone slower. And no one will tempt you–we know you got sober.”

“Orange juice in the kitchen, it’s bought for the children. It’s yours if you want it.”

“Feels like I’ve been ready for you to come home for so long.”

“It’s like you’re telling me now I’m the middle of the shit, I need you?”

“If it’d make you stay–I wouldn’t act so angry all the time.”

“Are we growing apart or are we growing up?”

“I am not ashamed of you.”

“And I wish I knew why I barely call and why I’m short with you.”

“Thinking about you, thinking bout me”

“I’ll be home soon, just a couple more drinks.”

“And i think Ive had enough of the people in this place.”

“There’s something on my chest that’s messing with my health. “

“And you say you’re too busy saving everyone else, to save yourself.”

“And you don’t want no help.”

“Go on! Kiss her!”

“I’ll be back on the first of June, will you hold my boots?”

[sleepretreat]

Hello!! I love your blog and I’ve seen a lot of people do this and I was wondering if you could recommend me some blogs? Like good vibes 🤗

Hello! Welcome to my crazy corner 💜

Here's some recommendations of my amazing moots:

@puckology101 if you're looking for Kraken and Nicojack vibes. One of my favourite people ever 🩵

@sweethischier I feel like this goes without saying and everyone still says it Abby is amazing.

@girlwhosimps if you want to yap, Syd is our resident yapper and so very great at it!

@nol-pat Katie will show up, drop the longest one shots on us and then disappear into the ether until we need her again.

@bratbarzal if you're looking for crazy. Maggie is who you're looking for. Also read her Nico x oc series while you're there. Need to keep attacking her so that she doesn't abandon us.

@puckinghischier you can still love Alli and her yapping even if she hates the stache.

@alles--oder-nichts is my F1 teacher, she'll adopt you right in!

And some general recommendations:

@theemporium writes just about everything, and you need to go through her entire masterlist because each one is a masterpiece.

@bitchinbarzal is the queen of AU's. That's all I can say about Lulu

There's so many amazing ones, and I'm sorry if I've left anyone out. I am sneakily writing this from my work desk. 💜💜

[i-am-vita]

Someone Who Loves You

👉 Next: Someone Looking for You

Bogard x Ghost Rose Oc (afabReader)

+6,800 words

👉 My Masterlist, Oc Ghost Rose Masterlist, Scruffy Bogard

OMGOMGOMG... My first ever smut is a sex pollen thrope. And it wasn't supposed to be! It was going to be another take of my other Bogard x Ghost Rose Fic because I couldn't stop thinking about them, but things evolve and ideas come out and then you end writing a pollen smut AU of your own fic while aiming for romantic spy noir angst.

Moots and interested people I remember: @fanaticsnail @jintaka-hane @cinnbar-bun @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @feral-artistry @indydonuts @since-im-already-here

Summary: Bogard is there to retrieve intel from The Contact, Garp’s main secret informant. Their exchanges always go swiftly... until they don't and Bogard finds himself running through the night with a mysterious woman, ailed by an enemy serum with unexpected effects. Warnings: Scruffy Bogard. Swearing. Hidden identity. Regular canon violence. Gun violence. Nakedness. NSFW. Smut. P in V. Regular sex pollen warnings I think. Dubious consent due to sex pollen and hidden identity. Expect: They Have History. Lovers to Strangers to Lovers. Use of You, not Y/N. Change of pov. FemOcReader, fem pronouns. Probably still Bad English and no consistent time tenses.

Bogard's muscles tensed with another wave of pain. Although it wasn't the worst ache he had felt, he was covered in cold sweat and he burned in fever. The small gash at his flank itched with every salty drop that managed to sneak below the bandages that constricted his torso. His skin was so sensitive even the bed sheets felt like sandpaper against it.

It would have been just mildly annoying if not for the sudden spasms that strained his body every few minutes and almost got him to his knees the first time.

"Shhhhh... Try to relax, Agent, it will pass soon..." A soft female voice whispered while the freshness of a wet towel roamed his face and torso, bringing a short relief.

His eyes focused on the shape of his reluctant ally for the time being. Concerned eyes looked at him through the lace mask that obscured half her face. Shapely red lips tightened and voice strained like it pained her to see him in such a state.

The mysterious woman that came to aid their intel exchange party when everything went to hell.

Bogard had received the small envelope from The Contact and stored it in the hidden pocket of his jacket when a dart flew towards him. His hand had caught it before it pierced his neck while an agonic scream broke the silence of the bar.

A female figure had emerged from the dark, positioning herself in front of The Contact.

"Sir, we've been compromised," spoke the woman. Her tone was firm and confident, but something in her voice made him stop before reaching for his own weapon to look at her twice.

She was tall and lean, with long straight dark hair and fair skin. Her well toned body encased in a short black jacket over a fitting little black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. A black lace mask covered her upper face blurring her facial features.

A ring on her middle finger glowed with the use of Haki and a bloodied knife came flying to her hand from a dark corner, followed by the telling sound of a body hitting the floor.

"Phantom Captain!" Shouted a group bursting in through the doors.

"Protect the intel," ordered The Contact.

"... What?!"

And all hell broke loose.

.

Well, fuck.

You had mused while running between buildings, through dark alleys and dodging suspicious looking darts.

The secret exchange of intel with this particular Client was almost performative at this stage. They and the Phantom Captain had been at it since before you joined his crew. It was until recently, you having earned your Captain's trust enough, that you accompanied him to these exchanges as permanent back up.

But you almost backed out the first time you saw Bogard walked through the door and sat at your disguised Captain's table.

You didn't recognize him at first. The messy hair and scruffy short beard bleared the handsome features you remembered of his always well groomed countenance. Then the light of a nearby lamp hit him, outlining his profile just right...

Your heart gave a jump inside your chest. You hold your breath in fear that even the smallest of sounds would draw his attention towards your direction.

Carefully sitting in a dark spot at the end of the bar, you observed the exchange carry on without incident. Your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your dress the entire time, until the gentleman that once held your heart walked away after a short conversation and a subtle exchange of an envelope.

You were tempted to call it off. To tell your Captain that you were not ready to pursue this responsibility... but no. You had worked hard to earn the position you hold among the Phantom Pirates. So you asked the Phantom Captain to use his Devil Fruit abilities to help disguise your appearance more than usual for these exchanges.

You would dye your hair to a deep black and straighten it from its natural waves. Meanwhile, your Captain would lighten your skin tone and change the shape of your jaw and nose subtly enough to not be an obvious resemblance of yourself.

His illusion abilities could last as much as 48 hours. Still, you would take with you a half mask just in case.

And then, the "just in case" arrived.

The little shell in your ear, normally silent to not break your concentration, suddenly came to life with the voices of your crewmates.

"Rose!"

"... situation..."

"...mission compromised..."

You managed to hear in the chaos of their voices. Then you saw a dark shape in a corner raising a blowpipe. You took a knife of your own and threw it towards them, but not fast enough to prevent the dart that flew unto Bogard, who skillfully snatched it midair.

With the mask firmly placed on your face, you jumped right away to protect your Captain... until he ordered you to protect the intel instead.

The intel that was now in Bogard's possession.

What the fuck?!

"Over here, Agent," you called him after that noisy group entered the bar, shouting for your Captain who simply used his illusion abilities to make himself invisible and calmly walked away.

You urged Bogard to follow you to one of the emergency exit routes you always have prepared, doing your best to ignore the part of your brain shouting in panic for having to interact with your former suitor.

"We have a safehouse, right this way." Except every turn and course you took would have some goon blocking your path. "Nevermind." Although your pursuers hadn't counted on their targets to be expert Haki Users and you would outrun them easily enough.

If only there wasn't so-many-of-them.

"It seems your safehouse is compromised too," Bogard commented after the fifth attempt to make it to the safe zone.

You couldn't help a small gasp when his arm circled your waist to pull you towards him at the sound of hurried steps from the adjacent alley. His firm hand over your ribcage, just right down your breasts, sent shivers down your belly.

The woodsy scent of his cologne reached your nose. How did he still smell the same? Feeling his warmth on your back after all these years was both heavenly and torture.

The dark figure which appeared around the corner of the narrow alley spurred you back into action.

.

A painfully familiar flowery perfume flooded his senses, his brain detecting new unexpected notes of sweet fruits, berries, bringing back memories of him burying his face in your hair, his lips seeking that spot in your neck that would make your knees go weak… Bogard shaked his head. He knew nothing of this woman other than the silent guarding she made at every meeting with The Contact.

Bogard was no amateur. In all his exchanges with The Contact, he would detect a silent figure keeping watch. They would change every time he met them, from men to women to undefined. Until they didn't.

It took him a couple of meetings to recognize the alluring female figure who recently became the constant guard of The Contact. She would subtly watch their surroundings, keeping a nonchalant attitude while sipping a glass of wine. Never looking at their table.

Bogard never catched a glimpse of her face further than the curve of her jaw. She was good. But something about her seductive form would entice him enough to seek her with his eyes every time he entered their agreed establishment...

"Agent!"

Her surprising strong push got him out of balance enough to hit the wall. A small line of pain appeared on his cheek courtesy of a well aimed dart her shove prevented from fully inserting in his face.

Bogard cursed himself for getting distracted like that in the middle of a job.

The culprit's body rolled down the alley, holding his opened throat courtesy of a hurled knife from the woman, who recovered it like the one at the bar.

Bogard missed his sword more than ever, but this line of his work required a more subtle approach and needed to not draw attention towards oneself.

The shine of a blade raising at her back got him reacting without thinking, pulling her again towards him to get between the sharp knife and her body. Another line of pain lined his flank. With a movement of his wrist, the mechanism inside his sleeve activated and his hidden small gun came to his hand in time for him to aim a clear shot between the new attacker’s eyebrows.

“What do you think you are doing?!” She shouted indignantly. Bogard didn’t know if for his manhandling of her or for getting himself injured just near where he had stored the envelope.

“You’re welcome.” A sudden dizziness came over him. He had to lean against the wall for a second.

“Fuck, you are bleeding!” Her hand tried to remove his jacket to inspect the red stain tainting his white shirt.

“It’s nothing. Let’s get out of here.” He brought his own hand over the injury to apply pressure and tried to recover his balance, to no avail.

“Not with you like this.” She took off her short black jacket, revealing her bare shoulders and strapless cut of her little black dress.

Bogard’s gaze traveled down her captivating figure, wondering where on seas she stashed her knives under that curve-hugging fabric. He got out of his appreciative stance by her arms encircling his torso to wrap the jacket around him to press the wound.

“We need to find another safe place,” she said, making sure to tighten the improvised tourniquet.

“I have room at an inn far enough from this side of town.”

“... And you waited until now to mention it?!”

Bogard couldn’t help the smirk that took over his lips at her feistiness.

.

You found the way to the inn where he had purchased a room for the night. Blessedly far from the bar of your meeting and opposite to the compromised safehouse.

Thankfully, his injury was a small gash, not even deep enough to need stitches. But the little cut on his cheek concerned you. You had no idea what was in those darts, but Bogard had been getting dizzy, sweating and breathing heavily for a few minutes.

You'd been dragging him since you lost your pursuers and managed to half carry him to the room before he finally collapsed on the bed.

The fever and tremors didn't take long to start and you suspected the worst.

You called him, begging for him to stay awake and asking him random questions about his symptoms and his surroundings. He answered immediately, his voice tense, but firm, describing every sensation that currently attacked him with precision. Despite the pain, his mind was clear and aware.

You saw each other in understanding. An interrogation serum.

"A cheap one if I've ever felt it," he mumbled when you spoke out loud your concern while looking around the bathroom for supplies.

"Have you been subjected to many interrogation serums, Agent?" You asked amused despite yourself. You had found some small towels and a bowl holding dried petals that you discarded and filled with fresh water.

"I have a harsh boss," he half joked.

The crystal bowl made some distinctive sounds when you put it down on the bedside table. The panic that had seized you for the minutes it took you to figure out his ailment still visible in your trembling hands.

"There's no first aid kit, but let me see that gash."

“Suitcase… in the closet,” Bogard murmured pointing to the adjacent door.

“Really, Agent?” You mumbled grumpily. “You ought to communicate better.” It was so him to withhold basic information unless asked directly or the necessity arised. It was both so irritating and endearing since you knew he didn’t do it consciously.

You found a hand luggage big enough for a change of clothes. Inside, a small white box with a familiar medical mark. In your haste to take it, some papers slided from an adjacent pocket.

Your own face looked back from an old photograph. The face you hid behind illusion and makeup.

The portrait captured a delicate young debutante exquisite dressed and made up in pastel colors that complimented her golden tan skin and perfectly styled brown curls. A sweet smile on her pink lips and bright eyes sparked playfully on her soft rounded features.

A small gasp left your lips at the recollection of other images capturing the likes of yourself and a younger Bogard.

Had he kept them all these years to the point of taking them with him in his journeys? Even after how you ended things between you and ran away from your stepfather's home?

You hold your breath at the other photo peaking out. That was… recent. Like barely months ago. You recognized the image from an article in the newspaper about your employer’s most recent social appearance at some noble’s surprisingly legit charity gala.

Duke Shostakovich was known to not mingle with World Government’s society, preferring to stay home managing his own business and securing the wellbeing of his lands and subjects. And there, just behind the Duke and Duchess, was you. You remembered the description of the photo naming you as one of the Duke’s protegees, the article praising your beauty and pondering about convenient matches for your boss to seal alliances with other noble houses…

A groan from the man faltering at the bed got you out of your short reminiscence and back on your feet to tend his wound.

He had already started removing your tied jacket around his torso and undid the first buttons of his shirt. You helped him get rid of his upper garments, including the clever mechanism that hid that little gun inside his sleeve. You were holding his jacket with the envelope safely on a nearby chair, trying to calm down about Bogard being aware of your current whereabouts, when you caught him undoing his belt and trousers too.

“What are you doing?!”

It mortified you how you managed to sound so scandalized. You weren’t a blushing debutante getting intimate with your beau for the first time at the gardens anymore.

“This thing it’s driving me insane.” A sudden wave of pain halted his intent and made him fall back on the mattress.

“You are going to open that wound. It has just stopped bleeding,” you chastised him while taking out some gauze pads and antiseptic to clean the gash.

“Use the strips.” He pointed to a little box filled with steri-strips to properly close a wound without stitches.

You had just finished bandaging Bogard’s torso to keep the strips and gauze firmly secured when another painful wave roamed his body, his muscles tense and prominent against his skin. His hands attempted again to get rid of his trousers and you didn’t have the heart to stop him.

Calling uncomfortable to the aching sensitivity an interrogation serum provoked on the skin was an understatement. You helped him take them off, along with his shoes and socks.

But you drew the line when his fingers wandered to the edge of his underwear.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned him sternly. He smirked too smugly for a person in supposedly great pain.

You took one of the towels and wet it in the bowl to start passing it over his feverish skin, while doing your best to not blatantly ogle his well toned body.

He had filled up even more since you had been together all those years ago. His enticing muscles contracted with every wave of pain and you had to remind yourself he was aching and vulnerable and it was not the time for those thoughts.

.

For the next hour, Bogard couldn’t do much but wait for wave after wave of pain, followed by short reprieves of freshness courtesy of his current caretaker.

Why was she still here?

She didn’t owe him anything. She could have just let him burn off the serum and deal with his injury by himself once getting him and the intel to a safe place. But she stayed, patched him up and ensured his comfort.

Would she stay until he was properly recovered to deliver the intel? Did she take her boss' orders that seriously? No, not just a boss, a Pirate Captain.

“So… Phantom Pirates…” Bogard mentioned sardonically referencing the group that was after The Contact when they had to fly from the bar.

So all this time, the Marine had been obtaining intel to take down pirate crews, bandits’ lairs and even corrupt officers from a notorious band of pirates and thieves.

“We are not pirates,” she answered indignantly, “and I didn’t blow off half of the 55th Division to acquire that intel for your boss to be called such.”

Bogard’s eyes opened up in surprise.

The 55th Division had been directed by a corrupt Captain who was enriching himself by allying with pirate crews in exchange for immunity, among other illegal and lucrative activities. But he was smart enough to not leave framing loose ends.

Garp was dying to get his hands on him. Bogard had managed to infiltrate the zone without being recognized to confirm those businesses existed. They just needed to prove the Captain’s involvement or they would go unpunished when they were taken down.

A week later, the 55th Division had reported a theft at their facilities and Bogard was sent to collect a package from The Contact containing all accounting notebooks and secret bank accounts from the base’s Captain who was finally put in Impel Down.

“That was you?”

“I led the team.”

“You are the Ghost Rose.” That was the name given to the mysterious figure that assaulted the 55th Division and escaped without being properly seen by anybody, leaving behind just a knife carved with roses.

The bounty poster was printed for an 80,000 berries reward when the trial against the captain was announced and the 55th division dismantled. There were very few bounty posters of her left and they were useless without a description so the mysterious figure had been left to oblivion after some months.

“You’re welcome.” She dismissed the title with a shake of her head.

A warmth that had nothing to do with the painful waves from before started to spread inside him. He shivered when trying to adjust his body.

"Save your strength, Agent."

"Aren't you going to seize the chance to get some information out of me? These things tend to loosen the tongue."

"I'm noticing. You have been awfully chatty,” she commented sarcastically, “but we don't steal from our clients. Besides-” she bit her lip pensively before adding- “I know everything I need to know about you, Lieutenant Bogard."

A sharpness took over Bogard's eyes at having his identity compromised. Somehow, he found the strength to sit up to face her. His attempt to intimidate her was eclipsed by another warmth falling down his gut.

"How do you know who I am?"

"Not your usual look, but I recognized you," she confessed while caressing his stubble with the back of her fingers.

The tremors had subsided minutes ago and it had been more time since a pain wave had attacked him. Yet, Bogard's skin shivered with the small contact and the note of affection he detected in her voice.

She passed the wet towel again over his sweaty forehead, down his cheek and neck to his chest and shoulders, leaving a heavenly freshness. His breathing had calmed and his tensed muscles started relaxing.

"How do you know me?"

"That information is not up to exchange."

From all the wanted criminals in the four seas, it had to be the Ghost Rose who recognized him in the middle of a job. Did she always know? Did that mean the Phantom Pirates knew their intel went directly to Vice Admiral Garp and the World Government?

Bogard wouldn’t confess it outloud, but he was utterly impressed by the mysterious figure and their abilities to infiltrate and collect such valuables from a Base full of trained Marines. That they turned out to be such a seductive woman…

His arm raised towards the lace mask hiding half of her face. His fingers grazed slightly the skin of her jaw and traveled to her red lips, feeling their softness.

"And what would cost me to see your face?" He asked while trying to stay sitting up.

.

Stupid, stupid…

You chastised yourself over and over again for opening your mouth, but you were enjoying your banter with Bogard so much you had got reckless. That was always your undoing.

Things had never been like this between you. Bogard was always so composed and well collected around you. Always seeing to follow the proper rules of courtship to woo you when he made his intentions clear. Despite you confessing that you couldn’t care less by the bounds of society and wanted him to be forthright with you, he always treated you softly. His embrace was caring and loving even in your passionate stolen moments together. Your conversations were uplifting and fun.

The man in front of you was harsh and detached, always a frown over his sharp eyes. Hardened by life and wary. Blunt in his speech. His current unkempt appearance made him look roguish and more dashing than ever.

You found yourself delighted in poking at his stoic bearing… and it was about to backfire on you fantastically.

His hand caressed your face gently, descending over your jaw to your neck. You gasped at the roughness of his calloused fingers over a sensitive spot.

What would be the cost, indeed?

Despite your disguised appearance, a part of you was scared that he would look right through the illusion over your features, detect a small detail that would give you out. While another part insisted that he deserved to know the truth if what you detected in his eyes was true attraction…

That thought bought you out of the trance his touch had ignited in you.

You couldn’t reveal yourself. Doing it would be as bad as revealing your Captain’s real identity. The person you really are was tied to his name and rank as his protegee and most trusted employee of his Arts and Exports business. The world could not know that Duke Shostakovich Eriksson, lord of Ballroom Island and protector of its surrounding enclaves, was the infamous Phantom Captain.

You brought your hands to his chest in an attempt to separate the both of you. Bogard stopped abruptly from his caress, his face contorted like in pain.

“Fuck, I’m sorry!” You moved your hands away from his skin, aware of the pain he probably was still in.

Yet his hand tangled in your hair and he laid his forehead on your shoulder, the other around your waist, bringing you closer to him. You returned your hands to his head, stroking his scalp gently with your fingers to comfort him.

“Definitely a cheap serum,” he whispered weakly. His breathing was getting agitated again.

“What do you mean? What do they put in cheap serums?” You asked, concerned that his symptoms would get worse. You could feel him inhale profoundly while burying his face in the space between your shoulder and neck sending shivers right to your belly.

“Concentrated essence of Lepidium peruvianum flower… The pollen accelerates and enhances the effects of the other components… but it remains for hours in the… body after the rest has burned off… and keeps enhancing… other things.”

“Lepidium… Oh… Fuck.”

“My exact thought.” His body shivered leaving a wave of goosebumps along his still feverish skin.

You considered very carefully your next actions.

Bogard, the man you once loved and almost married in your youth, who had no idea it was you behind the mask of a wanted criminal, was about to enter a literal sexual frenzy that could be damaging if not treated properly. You could tend his fever with fresh water or even a cold bath and he may attempt to find relief by himself, but it would not burn off the pollen essence fast enough and the pain would be as bad, if not worse, as a constant kick in the loins.

The most effective method to burn it off faster was sex with another.

“You better go now,” he suggested, drawing away from you.

“What? Why? I’m not leaving you suffering like this,” you confirmed, taking his face between your hands.

“Because… once the rest of the components burn off completely-” he raised his eyes towards yours, his gaze wild looking- “I’d recover my strength enough to rip this little dress off you and fuck you senseless.”

“Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time,” you answered cheekly, before turning serious again. “I mean it. I’m not leaving you to deal with this by yourself. Unless-” a thought entered your mind and you tried not to feel hurt by the possibility- “you don’t want to lay specifically with me. I would understand and wait outside while you deal with it. I’m a pirate after all…”

.

What nonsense was coming out of her mouth? He would have to be out of his mind to not want to lay with such an alluring woman.

Bogard grabbed her with both arms and made them roll until having her under him. He leaned over on one arm.

“What are you…?!”

“You had a black lace dress the first time I noticed you.” Her eyes went wide with surprise at his admission, a small sigh leaving her tantalizing red lips. “You always sit at the end of the bar or a far table, watching around for threats, yet you are always so careful not to let me see your face.” His free hand brushed again over the edge of her mask, feeling the intricate lace adorning the apple of her cheeks. “And I always wondered how much I would want to just be a normal man entering a bar who could ask you to spend the night together…”

“Don’t, please,” she whispered, halting his finger from going under the fabric with her own hand. “It stays on.”

A sudden wave of arousal roamed his body right to his hardening cock. It was getting painful to ignore.

“Second warning…”

Panic seized him when she started pushing him from over her. He let himself fall back on the mattress, resigned to get things done by himself, as should be. How would a woman feel safe enough to lay with someone in a situation like this? But his self deprecation was short lived.

She raised enough to slip her hands under the hem of her dress to unclasp a satchel with knives from her thigh. She proceeded to unfasten her dress and slide it down revealing her exquisite body clad only in a pair of dark lace underwear, which soon had the same fate, leaving her gloriously naked.

If he wasn’t completely hard for the effects of that damned cheap serum, that image would be enough to make him burnt of desire.

She drew herself back over him, her nails burning a path over his chest, crimson lips hovering over his. A curtain of dark hair fell around their faces, surrounding him in her intoxicating scent. His hands gripped the bedsheets in a last attempt of control to not fall over her like the possessed man he was about to become and ravished her full.

“I told you I’m not leaving you like this.” She bumped her nose affectionately against his.

“Why are you doing this? Who are you?” He reciprocated the soft caress, feeling more like a wild creature seeking comfort from a mate by the minute.

“No one important.”

“I can’t believe that.” Her lips descended on his at last in a hard, demanding kiss that felt like it had taken much more in the making than the mere hours they had been dancing around each other.

Bogard’s restraint finally broke and his arms wrapped around the woman who flooded his senses. His hands roamed over silky skin, proving the softness of her curves and firmness of muscles. He devoured her mouth and rolled her below him again, his lips traveling to her neck to a spot that he always loved to nip at in a partner.

The ravenous animalistic part taking over his brain delighted in the whines and mewls coming out of her mouth. Some other distant conscious side of him wondered why she sounded so familiar…

.

The shock of Bogard’s lips at that exact spot made you see stars and curl your toes in delicious ecstasy.

Your own hands wandered down his torso and around his back, feeling his hard muscles twitch under your touch. You wanted to rip the bandages to feel more of his skin, yet you were wary of his injury. His hips started thrusting against your own center and you opted to rip his underwear instead, desperate to feel him after so many years.

The known shape of his hard cock under your fingers made you fervent. You longed to take him again and pleasured him like he had taught you once, years ago. For him to come undone under your now more experienced ministrations.

A pitiful sound came out of his throat at your intent of pushing him off you.

“Shhh… Let me take care of you.” You soothed him, kissing his face lovingly and descending through his body, tasting and biting his skin until kneeling between his thick thighs.

Your hand curled around his hard cock and bumped him lightly at first. He was so sensitive his back arched in pleasure and his fists grasped the bedsheets to prevent him from taking your head and thrust aggressively in your mouth.

Before he recovered from that first flow of pleasure, you licked the vein pulsating along its underside until its leaking tip and swirled your tongue over it before fully taking him in your mouth. Your hand tightened around its base and the other played with his sack. You delighted in his salty flavor and the spasms roaming his body with every suction til having him coming in your mouth with a last thrust.

In any other circumstance, Bogard would be mortified by how swiftly he came undone under your skillful lips. He could last longer than that and it had barely scratched the compulsion that still ran wild inside him. His cock had hardly softened while you licked every drop off it and kissed your way up to his face. 

“It’s ok, Bogard, you can let go,” you said, unclenching one of his fists from the bedsheets and entwining your fingers with his, bringing it to your lips.

The gesture was so utterly sweet Bogard sighed deeply.

You raised over him like a tempting goddess and sat over his hips, cradling his member between your wet folds and sliding softly over him. His free hand grasped your hips to sway you over him while he hardened again. With the pollen essence in his system, his refractory period was next to nothing and he would remain hard and aching until it burned off enough to give him some reprieve.

You got up slightly to guide his cock inside your wet channel and descended slowly, sighing while adjusting to his girth. Small grunts like a wounded creature came from Bogard’s throat. His wide hands gripped the curve of your waist to let you adjust comfortably to him, refraining himself from harshly sheat inside you.

You bit your lip as you stretched to accommodate him, despite your own arousal easing the movement, you weren’t previously prepared. He let go a hand to bring his thumb between your lips and rub your clit eagerly. Like hell he would ever leave a lover wanting. You startled at the sudden shock of pleasure, arching your back and narrowing deliciously around his shaft, finally taking him all the way in.

Bogard felt a surge of strength along the carnal fever taking over his body and started pistoning against you, the last of his restraint gone and losing himself in the slapping of his hips against yours. You keep arching, going down over his torso, the new angle making your clit brush against his pubic bone. Your hands found support over his pectorals, fingernails burying in his flesh, leaving red marks, while his own hands tightened on your hips.

He stood enough for his mouth to start kissing and sucking at your breasts, tongue playing with a sensitive nipple, and you saw stars behind your eyelids because he always knew how to play your body to make you sing of elation.

Your bodies moved in perfect sync, chasing that ultimate high. You couldn’t help being delighted in the feeling of having your love again, even if for a short time. You had to bite your lips so hard to not shout his given name in pleasure.

Bogard almost cursed at his too early release again. He ought to feel your walls clenching his cock, milking his cum in your own ecstasy. His mouth seeked that spot on your neck to suck viciously until having you sobbing and moaning in rapture.

His cock remained hard and throbbing inside you. He barely let you catch your breath before rolling you below him again to start thrusting against you with renewed strength.

.

You were so sensitive and overstimulated, almost completely gone, when Bogard started finally softening, still deep inside you. He tried to get off over you, but his whole body was shaking from the exertion of the last couple of hours.

“Shhh… It’s all right. I got you.” You cradled his head gently against your shoulder, loving his weight over yourself, and making soft sounds while caressing his hair.

Bogard’s mind had started to clear from the fog that had plagued him, but he was starting to get dizzy again from exhaustion. His thoughts felt like trying to swim through mud. Your voice was the sweetest lullaby…

He came back to his senses with the fresh feel of moisture extending over his forehead and down his neck and shoulders. You were sitting at the bed’s edge, like before, passing the wet towel over his body, cleansing what you could.

Still gloriously naked.

His gaze traveled over perfect pale skin and delicious curves… Too perfect skin. He remembered his fingers tightening your hips enough to bruise, his mouth ravaging your breasts and neck. Yet it remained perfectly smooth, not a mark or blush. Though he remembered clearly feeling little blemishes on your torso.

He raised his hand to pass his fingers over your thigh and up your belly and stomach. You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply at his caress, a little moan leaving your half parted lips. There it was, on the skin of your stomach, three perfectly straight lines of scarring tissue yet completely invisible to his eyes.

Bogard made the effort to sit up while his hand kept going up, caressing more skin and following with his eyes to confirm what his touch informed him. Over the round shape of a full breast fitting perfectly in his hand to your neck and the outline of your jaw. There. He felt a softer form than what his eyes indicated.

It seemed his Ghost Rose wore more than one mask.

The fact he kept this discovery to himself instead of commenting out loud was indicative enough of him being back to his full senses and out of the serum.

“What are you doing?” You asked, opening your eyes again.

He wondered if the orbs watching him through that lace mask with such tenderness really were of that color.

“I should be the one taking care of you.”

“How chivalrous.” You smirked playfully.

Bogard's mind was slowly getting weary. Lassitude coming back at him. But he wanted to see you. Your face was so close, yet his vision had started to get blurry.

"Who are you?" You had been drawing your face closer to Bogard's. His fingers toyed with the edge of your mask, but not daring to go further without your consent.

"Just a ghost," -you murmured against his lips- "Rick..."

The disconcert of you using his given name vanished when your lips found his in the softest of caresses. His mouth moved to capture yours to deepen the kiss, his tongue nudging you to open your lips and let him taste you further now that he was free of the serum’s compulsion to enjoy it properly. You reacted in kind, corresponding his passion with your own.

His hand tangled in your hair and his mouth traveled down to your neck, inhaling your floral and fruity fragrance. But his attempts were weakening by the second. The fatigue left behind by the serum taking hold of his body.

"You have to rest." You held the back of his head and guided him gently back to the pillow.

"... Who are you?" He asked weakly one last time before his mind went dark.

You catched his hand before it fell from your face and kissed his palm. A solitary tear escaped your eye to his idle fingers.

"Someone who loves you..."

.

"... I recognized you…

“I’m not leaving you…”

“Let me take care of you.”

"Agent..."

"Lieutenant Bogard..."

"Rick..."

Bogard woke up abruptly to an empty room. His eyes scanned his surroundings, looking for the woman plaguing his dreams yet there was no sign of his last night companion. He sat up on the mattress, a hollow feeling in his chest.

His skin itched under the bandages and felt sticky from the dried sweat yet he swore he could still scent you on him. Feel your gentle fingers on his skin. Your voice calling him by his first name.

Ghost Rose…

Who were you? Why did you stay with him? How did you know who he was enough to recognize him?

Not one of the occasional lovers he took from port to port when the need arises. He never lay with a woman twice and he was not that arrogant to believe his prower so high to leave that much of an impression on a one time lover. And he didn’t go around telling his full name and rank.

Nor were you the kind of woman he would usually seek. Hair too dark and skin too light. Not enough reminiscent of her, the one who had had a hold on his heart all these years. Though your shape and height were, your body was toned and strong. It felt so right in his arms. Your long legs wrapped around his hips were heavenly. And those red lips… a contrast with the soft pink he remembered and sought in occasional companions.

But that wasn’t the real you, was it?

Bogard was sure of what his senses had shown him, even at the verge of faintness after the vigorous exercise of the night. You hide behind more than a mask.

He finally sat up, aiming to test the strength of his legs, when a tall glass of water and a papernote on the bedside table caught his attention.

I’m sorry, said the note in decorated calligraphy.

Were you apologizing for leaving?

I checked it. It’s safe.

Checked it?

Fuck.

He stood clumsily and went to his jacket, properly hung on a nearby chair, and looked inside for the envelope. It was there. He felt the disc inside, only to be read by a special kind of Den Den Mushi, and sigh in relief.

The sun was still low in the sky. He should have reported as soon as he got the intel last night.

Bogard considered smashing his personal Den Den Mushi to blame for the tardiness, but the poor bug wasn’t to blame for it.

Garp and Sengoku were going to give him so-much-shit if he told them about being hit by a cheap interrogation serum and being taken care of by the stunning mysterious bodyguard of The Contact. The woman who turned out to be the wanted Ghost Rose of the Phantom Pirates.

While musing on how much should he tell to his superiors, Bogard noticed another note at the back of the paper.

Remember to hydrate!

The caring message made a warmth spread in his chest.

What had he done to be on the receiving end of such caring? He thought of your sweet words, the gentleness of your caresses, the affection on your eyes…

Who were you?

Remember…

His thumb passed over the elegant handwriting. A memory hitting him like a wrecking ball.

Bogard went to his luggage and opened it hastily. The medical kit was back at its proper place inside. He seeked the compartment where he stored his most valued memories.

He pulled out the photographs, his lost love looking back at him. Her beauty still capable of taking his breath away. He passed the images until finding the one he was looking for.

A younger version of himself, dressed with his first uniform, embracing lovingly the angelic girl he was resolved to marry one day.

At the back, a message written in beautiful calligraphy.

So you remember how much I love you.

He put both messages side by side, comparing the writing style of that one word that could change everything.

Remember…

.

.

.

👉 Next: Someone Looking for You

[planetkiimchi]

soo my lovely aspen asked for moots as fictional characters and i assigned tinker bell characters to some of my moots before running out of options, so here's the "the seven husbands of evelyn hugo" edition!

(please note that this book was not necessarily a positive portrayal of some of the characters... if you've read the book and you get assigned a character you didn't like from it i'm sorry 😔😔 i read the book a long time ago and lowkey forgot who was likeable and who wasn't)

ria / @i-luvsang: evelyn hugo. she knows what she wants in life and she has a tenacity that i think you would have. she's not afraid to speak out for what she believes in, similar to your strong support for palestine.

noelle / @icyminghao: max girard, a true romantic who knows just how to capture his muse. ok how not to lie i've actually just realised i don't think i've read any of ur works before (IM DEEPLY APOLOGETIC) but i read ur "asking svt what they'd do if u became a cockroach" and i think u captured them wonderfully.

moon / @fylithia: robert jamison. he's a caring stepfather to evelyn's daughter, and i kind of think you're a great parent to billy and loki. :D (how are they btw i would love to see more pictures of them!!)

jan / @dearlyminhyung: john braverman. a strong, steady presence, he's someone who isn't afraid to set boundaries and call others out on their bullshit. i think you'd be somewhat like him.

ven / @ikrivi: connor cameron. a little argumentative, she can be quick to love and latch onto misunderstandings. i think you're like her in her youthfulness and knowing more than it seems in her innocence.

ara / @arafilez: celia st james. she's a well-loved person, very head on and straightforward in her words. she loves fully and completely and is extremely amused by all the little characteristics of those she loves.

sky / @weird-bookworm: monique grant. giving main character energy, very eager to learn, i think that's totally you. also attentive and sometimes yells at people she loves (i think)

ally / @winterchimez: rex north. a rather sensational character. a very professional person! just like u and your writing and proofreading :)

dreamy / @jisungsdaydreamer: harry cameron. he's probably the one evelyn was married to the longest. he's realistic, down to earth and caring. i think you would match his energy!

[absolutebl]

Hi! Why do so many BLs have one character meet the other when they were a child and love them since then…. I’m watching History 5 and the second couple has this trope with the older one loving the child but loads of them have a child ‘loving’ the older guy for years (Minato, second couple in History 4, lovely writer)

Is this a common trope in non-BL Asian dramas? Maybe I’m missing some cultural aspect but it makes me feel a bit weird… I’m fine when they both meet as children but when one’s a child and one’s an adult it feels off to me!

We Met As Kids, Therefore I Love You

Yes, it's a super common trope in ALL Asian romances.

There's a human cross-cultural claim-to-care around having met someone "first" giving one person priority to another's affection and in their life.

For example, think about how many fans (of say a Kpop group or band or actor) will claim to be "better" or morally superior to other fans of that same talent, because they have have liked that group/person "since the beginning" or "before they were famous." How about those who claim superiority because they read the book before the TV series became popular?

To have loved something FIRST is often allied with being better at loving it, there is a value judgement to longevity of association. (This is also true around disliking someone/something first.)

There isn't a name for this logical fallacy, although there should be. I would say something like appeal to tradition argumentum ad antiquitatem (which is a red herring fallacy). So appeal to time, argumentum ad tempus?

(The 8th Sense is doing some VERY interesting things to philosophically battle this concept right NOW, actually.)

Narratively speaking, if you have only a short amount of time to unfold the story (for example We Best Love) this trope gives writers a quick way to justify pining and affection (usually from the seme character). So backstory can be cribbed for character development. That character is already in love, so we don't have to show him falling in love, only one character is in play for that.

In longer narratives (like Word of Honor, Lovely Writer) this is a secret that gets to be slowly uncovered and explored as a plot point. If you have them meet as children, or when one is a child then it justifies one character not remembering the other (because peoples appearances change from childhood to adulthood).

I think the popularity in Asian dramas in particular has to do with collectivist cultures and family obligation/intimacy priority. To have known (or met) someone as a kid adds a level of intimate connection that justifies any affection that much more than meeting later in life.

There's a very funny scene in Kdrama (noona romance) Thumping Spike (recommended) that directly mocks this trope. Near the end the main couple openly together and they are in the car with the (former) love triangle dude. He lost, even though he's the one with the childhood crush. He directly combats this concept by saying (basically): If longevity guaranteed romance, I should be married to the grandma who runs my local convenience store.

Another well known Kdrama that combats this trope is Strong Woman Do Bong Soon (recommended) which goes out of its way to have the love triangle character who would normally lose the girl, actual win her this time. (So the one who loses is the moot crush from childhood.)

In BL, I tracked this one for a while:

Also here are a few BLs that DO NOT use this trope:

(source)