#but when i think about it now i'm Not a man. at least not yet

[felassan]

David Gaider on Dorian, under a cut for length:

"Now this is a fun one. It's no big secret I have a lot of feelings about Dorian, not least of which because he was my first (and only) gay male companion. There's a lot more to him than that, of course (as there should be), and it was quite a trip. So let's go! Now, DAI is a story all its own, but I'm sticking to the characters. In this case, back at the beginning, the writers were going to try something new: we were going to let the artists take a more active role in the companion creation process. Why? Because not doing so had caused a lot of problems. See, here's the thing: writers and artists speak two different languages. When talking about characters, we talk about their story. Who they are. What they want. We'd write up these briefs, huge and full of information... but it was never the information the artists needed. They wanted visual cues. I don't mean describing their appearance. Sure, we'd usually provide that, especially if there was a story case to be made, but often the artists vetoed us on appearance stuff anyhow so meh. No, I mean they looked for visual language while we tended to only talk about who the characters *were*. What would happen is they'd hone in on something visual in our write-up not intended to be a focus. The first write-up for Anders in DA2, for instance, mentioned he was "haggard" after his journey... and the first concept we got was this pale, shriveled man. "What... is this?" "YOU SAID HAGGARD!" 😅"

"That was the other trick: sometimes when we DID try to be more descriptive, we had to be extra cautious because the words could be interpreted very differently. You encounter this recording VO, too. A VO note says "hysterical" and you *meant* "really upset" but the actor read "scream like a banshee" Thus this caused problems, like I said. The artists would struggle, sometimes conjuring details just to give the character *something* but which would change the character... and, to us, the character was created. Done. We were already invested, probably already writing them. Something had to give. So this time we wrote a bunch of character briefs - but short. One paragraph. We stuck to vibes and the *emotions* we wanted the concepts to evoke. And we didn't name them. They got titles like "Slick Con Man" or "Ice Queen", so we wouldn't get too attached. Then we handed these off to the artists. And it worked nicely. The ones that just weren't inspiring we'd discard, no problem. The others had juice... and the artists felt free to play and offer lots of variations because we weren't set on anything yet. A lot of times, what they produced ended up inspiring US. It was a neat back-and-forth."

"This is what led to Dorian, in fact. He came from a short write-up entitled "Rock Star Mage" and it really boiled down to "I'm cool and I know I'm cool, so take that you cretins". And just like that, the first sketches (by Casper Konefal, I think? I bet I'm wrong) were all amazing. Instant fire. Me: "He looks kind of like... Freddie Mercury?" Him: "Is that bad?" Me: "NO ARE YOU KIDDING THIS IS AMAZING" Plus there was a monkey. Sadly, we had to lose the monkey. There were iterations to come, but this was really where Dorian was born: Tevinter mage, noble, savant, and too cool for school."

"When did he become gay? Not right away. Like I said elsewhere, we didn't talk romance and sexuality until after the concepts were more in place. But as we were brainstorming about why this hot shot mage left Tevinter, the idea DID come up that maybe it was because he was gay. Not directly, however. Homophobia isn't really a thing in Thedas, after all, so at first blush I didn't think that could work. "Rich kid gets kicked out of the house for being gay" wasn't a trope I wanted to explore. But, then again, magister families in Tevinter are *obsessed* with the appearance of perfection, so...? Any deviation from the "norm" is considered scandal-worthy. It said weakness. It said you couldn't control your house. Now... THAT had real promise. The writing pit discussed it a lot. So I think it's fair to say that the gay fairy was already circling Dorian even before we got to the romance talk. I think it's also fair to say that the rest of the team realized I low-key wanted to write him, because when everyone started calling dibs, who was left standing for me? (I pick last, remember.) I gleefully snatched him up and got to work... ...about six months later. I was very busy at the time. 😅 That late start meant I had to design and write VERY quickly. And I did. Somehow, though, this one... it came easily. "Catty gay man" isn't digging very deep, no surprise to anyone who knows me, and it had an extra layer of being so fun because Dorian was confident. He sparred verbally. I loved it."

"There was more to it, however. The conflict between Dorian and his father... ugh, how do I say this? Let's be clear: Dorian's story is not MY story, but it's also not far off. I wrote the entire confrontation scene in one go. After I was done, I probably cried harder than I ever have in my life. 🫠 I was unsure whether it was any good, however. I just didn't feel objective. I passed it over to Cori May - my friend but also Dorian's editor - and asked her to please tell me and be honest. She read it. She walked into my office after, tears streaming down her face, and just nodded. "It's good." Here's the thing. Not everyone is going to agree with this, but: I don't think a writer NEEDS to be a minority in order to write a minority. Sometimes those characters should simply exist, and we want them to. But if that character's story is ABOUT their experience as a minority? That's different. Dorian's story didn't need to revolve around his sexuality - and, honestly, it only did so as a tangent to his family issue, but they're so bound together it's probably irrelevant to split them - but my writing him meant it could be. It allowed me to SAY something. That felt good. It felt right. Ramon Tikaram came on board after a lengthy casting process (so many British Indian accents, oh god). I sat in on a few recording sessions... the confrontation scene, though? Ramon: *says line* Me: (curled up on a nearby sofa in fetal position) *shaky thumbs up* Caroline: "Yep. Great work, Ramon!""

"Dorian's sexuality isn't all he's about, but that's certainly how some viewed it. When the character was announced in 2014, his being gay was mentioned as the last of a number of points, and the instant response from some gamers was to act as if we'd called a press conference just to say THAT. 🙄 It was annoying. Still is. Overall, however, the reaction to Dorian was very positive. The number of straight men who said they romanced him still pleases me. The number of fans who privately contacted me who'd been through conversion therapy, some who said Dorian helped them survive? Well. Gosh. 😭 I did write him for Trespasser - though I hear that a late scope cut meant every conversation had been chopped by 1/3rd or more, and that meant a lot of nuance lost. Which is sad, if true, because it sounds like the result of that left some Dorian romancers a bit cold. Such is how game dev rolls. 😔 If you need more proof of how it was hard for me to let go of him, a short story I wrote after Trespasser came out where Dorian has a bit of closure with his dead father: medium.com/@davidgaider... So yeah. He'll always be my boi. And I'll always be thankful Bio gave me this opportunity. ❤️"

[source thread]

User: "I'm not going to lie, it's hard to take my mind off Dorian almost having a monkey." David Gaider: "If by “almost” you mean there was a picture of a monkey that the concept artist put there as a whim, and which would almost certainly have taken more cinematics and modeling time to put in than we could ever afford… then yes. 😉" [source]

[fillinforlater]

The Archive of Smite

This page belongs to the writer named Smite. He wrote fics starting in September of 2021 up until April 2024. In these 2,5 years, over 8.000 people followed him to read some of the craziest k-pop girl group smut out there. Almost 150 stories of sex in all kinds of positions, for many reasons, all over the world (and in outerspace), with too many kinks to count.

"When I started, I kinda wanted to become the best. I wanted my favorite writers at the time - Levi, Peach, Sins, and many more - to know that I could write as good as they can. I wanted to go wilder and crazier."

Smite, though ambitious, was also stupid and naive. At roughly the same time he started writing, two other community legends began their careers. IZ and Kaede crushed everything in their sight, especially the former becoming an absolute legend.

"Writing was fun. At times, it was escapism from everyday worries. At other times, it was fulfillment of fantasies I could never reach. Mostly though, it was just horny. BFH that just became words. If you go through my Masterlist, you might see which idols had some random heights or were just... Always on my hot list."

Smite never really stopped writing, not for long stretches that is. It didn't really occur to him that there might be a sudden, drastic reason to stop. He considered doing so anyways. Something about writing porn about irl people without them knowing or wanting - needless to say, it is an odd hobby. Nevertheless, he enjoyed it amd the community it brought with it.

"I fucking love these guys. So many hilarious peoplefrom all over the world. One became like my best friend, a rock during my emotional struggles. Another was my boyfriend for a short time. Man, I screwed up with him kekw. There are too many to mention. I've had long talks with some, others just came by and listened to me mald or something. I love you all, some of you I consider true friends - part of my soul - and I feel connected, even if you are thousands of miles away."

2024 started stressful for Smite. The pressure of Uni started to collapse on him. Even the thought of big kpop concerts wasn't enough to cheer him up. Luckily though, there was this girl. Sweet, kind, caring and in the same position. Soon, he had found something that seemed impossible. She was in love with him and he in love with her. And when everything unraveled.

"I stopped writing. I burried my drafts. I finished only one story and released it way later. I'm sorry I didn't announce it properly, but I just felt that this smut writing career was over. I don't regret it - I gained something beautiful I want to keep for the rest of my life. She is at least as pretty as Minju, so I call that the biggest win imaginable lol."

So no more smuts from Smite?

"99% no"

No more fanfictions/girl group stories in general?

"Eh, 80% no. Still some unfinished angst that I would love y'all to read tho"

Will you ever reach those 150 fics?

"We will see. In this count there are fics with less than 1000 words. I might just sneeze and finish it kekw"

Any fic you regret not writing?

"Not really? Maybe a proper ending for Starship: Horizon? Or yet another Minju fic? Futa stuff? Gaeul angst x female reader? Or how about a fic with 69 different idols at once? Who but me would dare to write something so stupid?"

Do you think you reached your initial goal?

"Do I consider myself the GOAT? No. That title belongs to either Peach, Levi or IZ. But I know that of my now 8.700 followers some consider me their favorite writer. I'm flattered and thank you very much for reading amd enjoying my work."

Now for the most important question: does this post mean you are finally leaving the community behind for good? Is this your last hoorah?

"..."

"Never."

[oncasette]

elfsong tavern — "why are you mad?" "i'm not mad, i just think you can choose better people to kiss." with our baby astarion ᰔ

𝗜 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗 𝗡𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗕𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗪𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡

spawn!astarion x fem!reader, very brief gale x fem!reader

summary: 1.2k

“I’m not angry,” he bites before his voice falls to a whisper. “I just think you have better options when it comes to choosing who to celebrate your heroic victory with, is all.”

You laugh. You honest to gods laugh and Astarion can’t fight the heat trailing up to the tips of his ears. “What?”

or the one where astarion gets a little jealous at the tiefling party.

a/n: i know this was supposed to be a blurb but i got a tad carried away. oops?

masterlist | join the sleepover!

Ugh, Gale.

Astarion honestly shouldn’t care, shouldn’t let this bother him to the degree at which it is. Watching the wizard schmooze you all evening should be the least of his worries, but his eyes ache under the force he’d used to roll them to the back of his head and his scowl is starting to become permanently etched into his face. He doesn’t care, he decides. Tells himself it’s the vinegary wine that’s marred his evening, not the way you’re hanging onto every cheesy word no doubt dripping from the wizard’s tongue. 

Because, why would he care? Why would he have any feelings about the obnoxious flirting in front of him, lesser that, why would he have any feelings about you and your obviously poor courting choices. He bites his tongue as he watches Gale’s head tilt. The sharp twinge of blood, his own, this time, sparks through his mouth when he notices the way you’ve mirrored the other man’s posture. He scoffs inwardly, but he doesn’t make the inclination of turning away from the display. Instead, he watches the way your eyes twinkle just a bit. The way you seem to be holding in the breathiest of laughs, your fingers dancing up Gale’s robes to rest on his bicep. The blasted wizard’s hand beneath your chin. 

Then, for a millisecond at best, your gaze flickering over toward him. Something hot flushes through him. His jaw clenches, teeth clanging together violently, as he watches your lips meet. This shouldn’t bother him the way it does. He has no claim over you, not even sure he has the true desire to, to own you in that way. Not yet, at least. Just because you’d been kind enough to lend him your neck on some evenings, that shouldn’t send something akin to fire seething through his bones. 

He sets his goblet down on the table outside of his tent, suddenly far less in the mood for whatever celebration the refugees were hosting in your camp. He yanks the rope holding his tent flap open shut behind him as he retreats into solitude. His head is reeling, jaw sore, fangs prickly with the desire to bite down on something. He lies back on his bedroll and jams his fingers against his temples in an attempt to get the dull throbbing to subside. Astarion doesn’t notice his tent being opened until he hears your voice.

“Are you alright?” you ask delicately and he nearly snarls. He bites down on it before it has a chance to really present itself to you. 

“Flap’s closed for a reason, darling,” he grunts. “But, please, disturb my brooding.”

He elects not to look at you, keeping his eyes firmly shut.

“Is the party that bad?” you ask as you continue to linger at the entrance. He can almost see you now, fingers twiddling with themselves and your posture hunched. He almost wants to laugh. He would have, had it not been for the other emotion currently clogging his system.

Astarion grunts in response.

“They’re celebrating you, too, you know,” you offer, shuffling until you’ve seated yourself at the edge of his bedroll. 

“Are they now?” he gasps dramatically, fluttering his eyes open just enough to shoot a look at you. His eyes are hooded, brows furrowed. You nod in response and he thinks he wants to scream when you offer him one of those saccharine grins. He used to think those were reserved for him. How wrong he was.

“Why are you so upset?” you ask. Your brow stitches together in worry. “You seemed perfectly cheerful earlier.”

“You mean when we were in the throes of slaughtering our weight in goblins?” he chirps. You nod, reaching a hand out to graze his but deciding better of it halfway there.

“What is it? Why are you angry?” you ask after a beat of silence. 

“I’m not angry,” he bites before his voice falls to a whisper. “I just think you have better options when it comes to choosing who to celebrate your heroic victory with, is all.”

You laugh. You honest to gods laugh and Astarion can’t fight the heat trailing up to the tips of his ears. “What?”

He sneers. The audacity.

“Spending your evening with Gale,” he huffs, the scowl returning to his lips. “Lots of other perfectly fine companions you could’ve chosen to spend your evening with. Hells, even the refugees were bidding for your time, but no. You chose to celebrate your victory with the wizard.”

Your fingers prod the tip of his inflamed ear and he wretches back with horror. His face flushes a deeper shade of burgundy. 

“You’re jealous.”

“Ha! Of Gale? Hardly.”

“You could have come and talked to me yourself.”

“And ruin the wizard’s first attempt at getting laid?” 

You look down at him, something stern attempting to mask the mirth dancing around in your eyes.

“He was just being friendly,” you huff.

“You are disastrously blind, darling,” he says, slowly sitting up on the bedroll and tucking his criss-crossing his legs. “That was not a kiss amongst friends.”

“So, you are upset about the kiss,” you say, nearly sounding victorious. You lean forward until your noses are nearly touching. Asterion's ears tilt down, something a little softer glinting through his crimson gaze. 

This was not how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to seduce you, entrance you, lure you into the woods for something far more carnal than this. He was losing ground here, and fast. 

“I-” 

Something clicks into place in his brain.

His palm comes up to cup your jaw, tilting your face up as his posture lengthens. His eyes thin out, hooding his gaze under a haze of lust. He muffles the laugh that crawls up his throat as he watches your eyes seem to glaze just a bit. Yes.

“My sweet,” he purrs. “Was this all just a ploy for my attention? Did you play with the poor wizard’s feelings because you knew I was watching?”

He can taste the hesitation on your tongue. He inhales, body alight with something else now entirely. Your breath hitches and he licks the point of his fang in anticipation.

“Hm?” he taunts.

“N-no,” you stutter out. You feel off-balance, tossed about in the sudden change in the atmosphere.

“No?” he clicks his tongue. He leans in closer. His mouth is a hair's breadth away from yours and you taste utterly divine already. Eyes closing, he brushes his lips across yours, but never fully bridges the gap.

“No.”

“Then whyever are you sitting so prettily in my tent right now? Far, far away from the wizard’s precious kisses,” he sighs. His tongue peeks out. Just a taste, he decides. Your own eyes close, hands trembling in your lap. Your only response is a sharp gasp as Astarion kisses you fully, mouth slanting over yours in a way that has rational thought escaping you completely. His brow furrows as he presses in further. 

Perfect, he thinks. Perfect, perfect, perfect. He’s got you right where he wants you.

You whine into him and he has to fight the urge of biting down into your plush bottom lip. He lets you lead, to an extent. Lets you pull away when you’re ready, lets you rest your forehead against his as you catch your breath. Lets your fingers find his as you lean in for another taste.

Yes, he’s got you exactly where he wants you. Though, he’s not entirely sure his motivations for keeping you there are the same as they were when he started.

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 16 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

You needed to rein in your anger for now. Jinwoo needed to defeat Baran as quickly as possible to obtain the ingredients necessary to cure his mother. Even though he might not yet know whether it would work, you did. The future you knew was enough to justify setting aside… whatever this was for the time being.

It was clear that Jinwoo wanted your support; otherwise, he would have already gone to the Demon Castle. You should have convinced him to go solo. According to the story, he’d be fine. Your interference might bring troublesome consequences, yet you wanted to help him—perhaps selfishly this time.

You still blamed yourself for what happened to his mother. You knew her eternal slumber was meant to drive Jinwoo to grow stronger. But you had the power to prevent it, to cure her, and yet—

At one point, you unconsciously began to feel that helping him was a way of making amends—for your helplessness, for things out of your control. Not just his mother [Why do you blame yourself?] but also for not arriving sooner from the garden. For being too late to save his father, even if the system might have stopped you anyway. You could have tried. Yet you were too late [it’s not your fault]. Too late to save his father. Too late to help the people devastated by Kamish.

[It was out of your control.]

---

The garden was as serene as ever, a tranquil oasis filled with blooming flowers and butterflies flitting through the air. The soft hum of nature provided a soothing backdrop, yet the tension inside you was anything but calm. You sat at your usual spot by the gazebo, sipping tea from a delicate cup, waiting for him to arrive via the invitation you’d sent with your butterflies.

When Jinwoo stepped into your domain, the portal sealed behind him.

Was it just you, or did he look more haggard than usual? Was it because of your… disagreement? He shouldn’t care that much about you. You needed to be sure of that. Otherwise… you didn’t know what would happen to this story.

"(Name), I'm sorry—" Jinwoo began, his voice tentative, but you cut him off with a raised hand.

"Sit," you said simply, taking another sip of tea. Your tone was measured, calm, but there was no room for argument.

To his credit—or perhaps his detriment—Jinwoo sat immediately, like an obedient dog, responding to its master’s command.

You laughed, and he flinched, thinking he’d done something wrong again. But you laughed because of the irony. Here sat the soon-to-be strongest man in the world, obeying you like a lost puppy. You didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, feel exhilarated, uneasy, or all of the above.

It was both endearing and unsettling.

You needed to address this situation—quickly.

But for now, Jinwoo needed to focus.

"Let’s set that aside for now," you said, waving off his attempt at an apology. You noticed him opening his mouth again, perhaps to protest, but one sharp look from you silenced him effectively. Lovely.

At least he listens when it matters.

"You need to return to the Demon Castle to gather the final material for crafting the Holy Water of Life, correct?"

"Y-yeah," Jinwoo stammered, caught off guard by your directness.

"Then why are you still here?" Your voice held a firm edge. Why hadn’t he already gone? He didn’t need you for this, not really.

"I—" Jinwoo faltered, the words dying in his throat. He was going to ask you to accompany him, but why? Why didn’t he use this time to leave, to step away from your anger? He couldn’t admit it, not even to himself, but leaving without resolving things with you felt… wrong.

Running away from this felt wrong.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. The tea in your cup swirled as you tilted it slightly, your thoughts as restless as the liquid. "I’ll help you," you said at last, the words measured but sincere. "Though I’m not sure how much help I’ll actually be. Just give me time to prepare.”

He clearly hadn’t expected that. “You don’t have to—”

"I don’t," you interjected, cutting him off once more. Your gaze softened as you set the teacup down and folded your hands on the table. "But I want to. Let’s just leave it at that."

Oh.

Jinwoo felt an odd sense of déjà vu. It reminded him of the past, back when he was weakest. When he didn’t know anything about his mysterious benefactor. When he didn’t know you.

Thank you. He wanted to say it, but it didn’t feel like enough. It never did.

You took his silence as agreement, your lips curving into a faint smile despite yourself.

---

The silence stretched on, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Jinwoo fidgeted slightly.

“I—” Jinwoo hesitated. Should he bring up that dinner? No. It wasn’t the right time, not when you were setting your fight aside for his sake.

“Hm?” you prompted.

“…Can you train Tusk?” Jinwoo blurted out, summoning the High Orc Shaman before he could stop himself. The towering figure of Tusk knelt immediately, his glowing eyes filled with both reverence and curiosity as he regarded you, and… confused by his nervous master.

You arched a brow, eyeing the orc, setting down your teacup with a soft clink.

Jinwoo scratched the back of his neck. “He’s good at casting spells—” He winced at his poor wording. “I… I thought he could learn a thing or two from you—”

You moved, and Jinwoo stiffened. Standing from your seat, you approached the kneeling Tusk, your footsteps soft against the gazebo’s stone floor. Tusk, to his credit, remained perfectly still, though his glowing eyes followed your every move.

Reaching out, you placed a hand gently atop his head, patting him lightly.

The orc blinked. Jinwoo blinked.

"Alright," you said simply.

You smiled—a genuine smile that Jinwoo hadn’t seen in days.

It was meant for Tusk, sure, but his shadows were an extension of himself. And Jinwoo… Jinwoo clung to that small glimmer of hope.

---

“Enchanting equipment?” you asked, your voice cool and composed.

“Yes.” Jinwoo nodded, carefully pulling two items from his inventory. “A few days ago, I bought some gear in preparation to return to the Demon Castle.” He handed you the wind-attribute robe and the nameless ring imbued with a water-attribute.

You regarded the items with a practiced eye, fingers grazing the surface of the robe before both pieces floated midair, enveloped in your signature silver aura. Jinwoo watched as your shoulders relaxed, your eyes fluttering closed.

His gaze remained fixed as your butterflies began to swirl, seamlessly merging with your aura as they danced around the equipment. Your hair swayed gently with the magical currents, and for a moment, Jinwoo was captivated.

The light flared momentarily before dispersing, the butterflies scattering back into the garden. The robe and ring floated down gently into your open hand. Without a word, you handed them back to Jinwoo.

Out of curiosity, he activated the system to inspect their stats, and his eyes widened in shock. The equipment’s overall defense had tripled. Not doubled—tripled!

The robe’s magic resistance and affinity were leagues beyond its original state, and the ring now pulsed with latent power, its water attribute refined into something far more potent. Even the overall quality of the items had improved dramatically.

“You’re… you’re really amazing,” Jinwoo said, awe dripping from his tone as he examined the equipment.

You hummed in acknowledgment, though your focus had already shifted to your butterflies, idly letting them land on your fingers and shoulders.

You still weren’t looking at him.

Oh right. Jinwoo’s expression faltered as the realization hit. You were still giving him the silent treatment.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Jinwoo’s reaction—his head tilted down, his shoulders slightly slumped, his lips pressed into a tight line. He looked like a dejected puppy, an image made even more comical by his flickering gaze, which kept darting to you as if waiting for some kind of acknowledgment.

Your butterflies noticed, fluttering inquisitively toward Jinwoo before retreating back to you. Jinwoo’s shadows, peeking through the faint dark mist at his feet, mimicked the butterflies with exaggerated shrugs, clearly as lost as he was about what to do.

You didn’t react.

---

Yeesh.

Jinho shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat, glancing between the two of you as the car sped down the road. The silence inside was suffocating—not quite as unbearable as the last time he’d seen the two of you together, but still tense enough to make him itch for some form of normalcy.

His Unnie sat by the window, her head resting lightly against the glass, staring at the passing scenery. She hadn’t said a word since they left. His Hyung, seated in the opposite side of the passenger seat from her, occasionally flicked his gaze toward her, his brow furrowing ever so slightly before his focus returned to the road.

The tension was palpable.

Jinwoo cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Were you able to sleep well?” he asked, addressing Jinho.

“Yes, Hyung-nim. Unnie is really a great host!” Jinho replied, his tone overly chipper as he tried to ease the atmosphere.

For the briefest of moments, he caught the smallest of smiles gracing your lips. It was faint and fleeting, but it was there. Before he could even process it, your expression returned to its usual steady, composed look.

The silence resumed.

This time, it was Jinho who cleared his throat awkwardly. “By the way, what business do you two have at the World Tower this early?”

“We’ll be going,” Jinwoo answered curtly.

Your gaze flickered to Jinho, and you added, ���Take care of my shop in my absence, okay, Jinho?”

“Wait, what—?” Before Jinho could even finish his sentence, both of you were gone.

Jinho blinked, staring at the now-empty car. “Huh?” he muttered to himself, still processing the abrupt departure.

He sighed, leaning back in the seat. “Well… at least the tension’s gone now…”

---

“As we practiced, Tusk!” Your voice carried across the battlefield, clear and commanding.

Jinwoo stood at a safe distance, watching as the shadow of the high orc shaman obeyed your order, prepared to unleash a spell. Tusk raised the Orb of Avarice high, the artifact shimmering as it expanded to match his increased size.

“Fire!”

The command was punctuated by a deafening explosion of power. The beam tore through the battlefield, obliterating every demon in its path, only leaving a charred crater. The heat from the explosion rippled outward, stirring dust and debris, carrying with it the echoes of decimation.

Jinwoo whistled in appreciation, folding his arms as he observed the carnage. Behind him, his shadows shifted, and your butterflies fluttered in synchronized patterns, as if admiring the display.

Meanwhile, you floated upward, your butterflies swirling protectively around you. Once you reached Tusk’s massive head, you landed lightly, patting the shaman’s forehead.

“Well done!” you praised, your voice warm. A neon blue butterfly followed your gesture, landing on Tusk’s—well, tusk.

The shadow rumbled in satisfaction, his massive shoulders relaxing as he basked in the praise. Jinwoo couldn’t help but chuckle

Yeah, he thought, a small smirk tugging at his lips, leaving Tusk’s training to her was definitely the right call.

---

“Say, can your butterflies level up?” Jinwoo began as his dagger sliced cleanly through a demon, sending the dark creature crumpling to the ground. “Like my shadows?”

You were a short distance away, directing a volley of butterflies toward a cluster of demons. The faint hum of system constant notifications rang in Jinwoo’s mind as both your forces and his defeated demons across the floor in the coordinated teams.

“Yes, they can,” you replied, casting a spell that sent silvery light streaking toward Jinwoo. His health bar filled rapidly, minor scratches on his arms close up. A boost in mana regeneration and overall speed left him feeling reinvigorated as he flexed his fingers.

“They gain power differently, though,” you continued, spinning your scepter once to clear some demons encroaching on your position. “Instead of receiving direct experience points from defeating enemies, they grow stronger by feeding on lifeforce. It’s a continuous process, and it takes significantly more time.”

Jinwoo hummed, parrying a claw strike from a nearby demon. He glanced back at you as you effortlessly destroyed another group with a volley of silver projectiles.

You nodded. “They also have ranks similar to your shadows, but the system referred to them as stages of metamorphosis. Egg, Larva, Pupa, and Adult. Their forms change at each stage. Sometimes they grow larger, sometimes their colors or wing patterns shift, and so on. The last time I maxed them out, though, the ‘Adult’ stage was locked, so my strongest children remained in the ‘Pupa’ stage.”

Jinwoo tilted his head slightly, avoiding a beam of light that zipped past where his head had been moments before. The shot hit its mark, incinerating a line of demons behind him. He didn’t bother turning to check the scorched corpses. His focus stayed on you.

Your scepter glimmered in your hand, its tip still smoking faintly from the spell. You ran a hand down its length, your expression calm and calculated as more demons circled you and him.

“To ascend to the next stage, each butterfly requires specific ascension materials. The materials differ depending on the field I want them to excel in—whether it’s devouring, illusions, healing, or something else entirely,” you continued. Your voice was steady, even as you broke into a sprint straight toward him.

Jinwoo remained perfectly composed, lowering one hand, bracing himself. Without hesitation, you plant your foot in his palm, and he used his strength to propel you into the air. The dagger held in his other hand slashed cleanly through the demon hot on your heels.

Midair, you spun gracefully, casting multiple magic circles that hovered around you like constellations. Beams of concentrated light erupted from them, carving through the horde of demons surrounding Jinwoo with pinpoint accuracy. The spells struck true, decimating the creatures while leaving Jinwoo untouched in the center.

You landed gracefully, the silver aura around you dispersing as your butterflies fluttered back to various parts of the battlefield, supporting Jinwoo’s soldiers.

“It was something I gave the system feedback about. It’s why your shadows only need your permission to rank up.” You brushed a stray strand of hair from your face.

“A single Larva-stage butterfly is more than equal to an entire kaleidoscope of its siblings still in the Egg stage. And that comparison holds for the higher stages as well.”

Jinwoo’s eyes followed the graceful movements of your butterflies, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “So… when do you get to name them?” he asked casually, flicking the blood from his blade.

You turned to him sharply, your expression almost scandalized. “My children are living, sentient beings, Jinwoo. I name them as I see fit.”

Jinwoo smirked. “You’re telling me you memorize all their names? From the look of it, you’ve got hundreds—no, thousands of them.” He chuckled, expecting you to roll your eyes or laugh.

Instead, you looked at him blankly, reply just as flat, “Yes.”

Jinwoo opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. After a second, he closed it again and shook his head with a soft chuckle. “Of course, you do,” he murmured, bemused. Honestly, he should’ve expected that. It was just so you.

A voice echoed in your mind, soft and respectful.

My Lady, Sir Jinwoo’s shadows have located the entry permit. We can now ascend to the next floor.

“Red informed me that Igris’ team found the entry permit,” you relayed to Jinwoo.

He raised a brow. “Red?”

“The child who always hovers to my right,” you said, and as if on cue, Red fluttered down to your shoulder. You patted her wings lightly, murmuring, “Well done.”

Igris materialized behind Jinwoo, confirming the butterfly’s report with a respectful nod.

Jinwoo made a mental note to ask you more about your telepathic connection and the mechanics of how your butterflies were born. For now, it was time to ascend.

“Let’s move.”

Together, you ascended to the 80th floor.

End Note:

Unfinished Draft of [18/11/2024] -

[mybworlds]

Fathoms below

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Warnings: use of you, you’re a mermaid, I won't give any details except for nice long legs and very long hair, nudity, violence (a little?), use of both pov. If I missed smt please let me know.

Summary: Marcus Acacius is a fighter and a conqueror, he's returning to Rome when a mysterious girl saves him from a shipwreck.

Masterlist

A/N New story, new (?) characters, I hope you like it as much as I do and if you don't like it, please be merciful. Likes, comments and reblogs are not mandatory, but very appreciated! ❤️ Have you seen Gladiator II? What do you think? I'm quite disappointed, if you want we can talk about it in a separate post.

follow @mybworlds and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Taglist @harriedandharassed; @orcasoul; @blazeflays; @ijustlovemensm; @duck-duck-goose2

Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics.

His whole life has been on a battlefield. His skin is now dark from all the dust soaked in sweat and spilled blood, his skin burned under the scorching sun. His hair a mass perpetually disheveled by the wind, by the many battles won over the years.

Marcus Acacius is the general of the Roman army, the most intelligent, the most ruthless. His hands are now a perpetual red, too many lives had been taken by his sword, no matter how many baths he takes and the considerable amount of perfumes and oils used, the battle is a part of him.

The battles faced in Numidia and Egypt had contributed to the extension of the glory and power of Rome. Acacius, after his last victory, is ordered to return to Rome where he would be celebrated and would have the great honor of becoming one of the most important men in Rome.

What the emperors order, the general performs. No matter how brutal or inhumane it is, he obeys. He doesn't always love what he does, sometimes it is senseless. But in Rome he could never say no, no one can.

Once, at the end of one of his many military campaigns, Acacius is on the coast of Sicily with his men — the province of Sicily was the first to be created and an important land of meetings and trade for the glory of Rome. He has just finished yet another campaign and cannot help but think of how many men have been killed at the whim of two mad emperors.

Acacius only follows orders, but he can't take it anymore. He fights, he kills, sometimes he takes prisoners if that's what he's ordered to do, sometimes not. He doesn't care about glory or having statues dedicated to him, he just wants some peace for himself and his life. He’d like to live peacefully at least for a while, “General!” one of his subordinates calls him back to reality “We are ready for interrogation.” he sighs before joining his men.

That day, the General has to interrogate one of the prisoners to find out if they’re plotting against the empire, the man's face is desperate. Acacius, even if he doesn't fully understand their language, can clearly see the fear in the man's eyes. He speaks and asks what they are organizing against Rome, but the only words are "mercy, I know nothing", he looks at him and the more he looks at him the more he feels disgusted by all this. At yet another futile attempt to learn something from him, his subordinate kills him.

Acacius looks at him shocked and completely incredulous, “He wouldn't have said anything anyway.” the other justifies his action.

He’s about to reply when a noise catches his attention and then two frightened eyes catch him, then he sees you fleeing. Your gait is awkward almost as if you’re in some kind of pain.

Without raising the alarm of an intruder in the camp, he walks away from the scene of the murder and starts following you into the woods with his trusty dagger still in his hand. He knows, in fact, that you could be a bait and that you could be used to lure him away from his men.

“Stop.” he shouts at you “Don’t run away!” he adds.

You stop and look at him, your gaze still terrified as if you’ve a monster before you. Marcus Acacius has long seen himself as a dog faithful to his masters, always ready to obey no matter what, even if his actions were monstrous enough to make him feel like a monster.

He looks around for the presence of other men who were lurking around there ready to attack him, but the nature around them doesn’t suggest the presence of other people except them.

Your gaze is still terrified, however you don’t stop looking into Acacius' eyes, feeling as if he’s being scrutinized in the depths of his tormented soul.

Then a completely unexpected gesture, you touch his face. Your skin is cold as sea water, “You’re freezing, are you okay?” he asks you, jumping at the unexpected cold on that hot summer day.

You look at him confused, “Where are you from?” he asks you curiously.

But your look is confused, “You don't understand me, do you? ¿De dónde es? Waar kom jy vandaan?” Acacius tries to establish contact with you, but with the result that you shake your head and look at him, both surprised and curious at the same time.

He puts away his dagger and raises his hands in surrender, “Sorry, if I scared you,” he tells you.

Oh, if his subordinates had heard that, they would have called him a wimp!

There’s something about you, something terribly beautiful and terrifying at the same time. Your beauty is unmatched and yet the General had met all sorts of women, but none as beautiful as you are.

Then, you both look at each other for a long, silent look before you start caressing his face with both hands, who knows if you want to tell him something and he doesn’t understand what you want to tell him!

Acacius finds himself closing his eyes in a moment of total abandon, something he had never allowed himself to do before. Because of his role, he could never let his guard down, he always have to be vigilant and wary, but at that moment he doesn’t even know why he feels so captivated by you, a mysterious girl.

Your touch is so gentle it almost sends shivers down his spine and for a moment he feels like he's in the right place at the right time where no war or duty calls him back to his place, he feels an absolute peace even if it lasts until you move your hands away and he opens his eyes again.

Your eyes are a mixture of confusion, fear, curiosity and beauty. Acacius wants to do the same thing you did with him, but then he thinks that maybe you would have been afraid and you would have run away.

“What’s your name?” he asks again, hoping that your name comes out of your lips, the name of a girl who seems to have hypnotized him.

You look at him again, opening your lips slightly as if to speak to him, but no sound comes out of your mouth.

Are you mute?

His expression softens and a faint smile curves his lips. You imitate his expression, “I have to go now.” he tells you slowly in the hope that you could understand and taking a step back.

Oh, how much he’d have given to stay and not have to return to Rome, he knows what awaits him!

You too move away from him, lowering your gaze for a moment and then looking up again.

After a last silent glance, everyone goes their own way. Who knows if you live there!

The next day, Marcus, much to his embarrassment, was gifted a new marble statue as a result of his latest conquest for the Empire. It’s beautiful and the sculptor seems to know him very well since he managed to depict in detail every single wrinkle and war scar. He thanks the man, but deep down he doesn't feel comfortable taking that gift with him, but he can't refuse it either as it would mean offending the sculptor.

A few weeks later, he's on the ship headed to Rome. Acacius had thought about you several times, but without finding you, and yet there aren’t many villages in the surrounding area and he finds himself very disappointed at not being able to at least say goodbye to you before returning to his home. The General is near the bow of the ship, reading important documents in which his last enterprise is documented, when there’s a strange splashing sound that takes his focus off from the papyrus. Marcus looks up from his papers and walks over to the railing. Nothing special except some ripples and probably a few dolphins here and there.

The Sun dips into the waters of the Mediterranean Sea, when the man goes to sleep. Despite his tiredness, he can't sleep because on the one hand he’s happy to return home and live his city again, but on the other he knows that with this his latest victory, the emperors will force him to marry some domina. And Marcus knows that, although he's a man and enjoys certain freedoms, in the end he will have to give in and marry so as to contribute to the birth of other powerful men who will contribute to the glory of Rome.

The man must have fallen asleep because suddenly he feels a jolt to the ship, he gets up with difficulty staggering from one side to the other. The sea is definitely stormy. When he leaves his quarters, his men are screaming for mercy from the god Neptune. The waves reach the deck, wetting everything and everyone, and the ship rocks more and more violently.

“General, we’re lost!” someone shouts “We’re still too far from Rome and we can’t even go back! This will be our tomb.”

Although he wants to encourage his men, the situation is truly desperate. The waves are crashing onto the deck with great violence, wetting everyone, and the sky is torn by flashes of lightning. Then, everything changes for the worse in a few moments, a lightning struck the mainmast which breaks and catch fire. Some men throw themselves into the sea in desperation, others remain clinging everywhere could. General Acacius is hit in the head by bow mast and ends up in the water.

The man doesn’t even know how he doesn’t faint after receiving that strong blow to the head and tries to surface despite the high waves, but his clothes and the fury of the sea don’t help him at all. He begins to drink saltwater and drown in the depths of the sea, when something seems to grab him and drag him away. The man faints.

When Marcus regains consciousness, he feels the gravel and the sand of the coast beneath him. He opens his eyes, barely raising his head, he feels overwhelmed and confused, when he sees a girl — that same girl, you — next to him, he's about to say something, but you place a finger on his lips, your skin is soft and cold as he remembered it, you look at him with a pleading and worried look, you smile at him as if you are happy to know he’s safe and after looking into his eyes again as if to make sure he's okay, Marcus watches you go away and disappear into the waves. A few moments later a fishtail appears where you disappeared.

It can't be!

No one can understand how much you love the world above the surface, the sun, the wind, you love every sound that comes from it.

You are a mermaid, but you want so much to live up there.

You are looking out more and more often, running the risk of being seen by humans. According to your father, they are the worst creatures in the world, always hostile and destructive to each other and to you. But not according to your aunt, Mira, she loves humans and in fact she encourages you to go up and explore the terrestrial world.

When you were still a baby, you went up to the surface with her. It was your first time and you loved every moment, at least until a galley almost saw you and this led to a furious argument between the two brothers which then led to Mira exile.

From that day on, your father prevented you not only from seeing her, but also from imitating her. You should never have come to the surface again.

You obeyed, at least until the renewed curiosity towards the surface and humans came back forcefully to make its way inside you and since then you’ve started secretly collecting everything related to the human world, they are so beautiful, they do so many wonderful things and they write so much. One day you’ll learn to read in their language, maybe you can ask your aunt Mira for help, she knows a lot of things.

You mostly come up to the surface in the evening or at night, this is because it's the safest moment not only because your father isn't around, but also because you are less likely to be seen by humans.

And that evening is no exception even though there is a strong wind and the currents are quite strong even down there in your world. It's one of those days, that humans call summer, the first time you see him.

In the evening you like to watch what your aunt explained to you is called Moon reflected in the waters of the Mediterranean Sea. The water becomes so bright on the surface that creates a strange play of light. That summer evening, you surface cautiously and very carefully, looking left and right, you come out of the water. Your beautiful fish tail gradually disappears as you surface and is replaced by nice long legs.

Your aunt had explained to you that this magic happens for you mermaids. You can go up to the surface, but you can't stay there for long. Magic always comes with a price, she told you. In fact, if it was possible to have legs, then you would also feel great pain in having them.

Effectively, your legs always hurt a little and it's not always pleasant to walk on them, but walking on the ground makes up for that pain. You immediately notice a small group of men at a certain distance, they seem to be soldiers from the way they are dressed. Your aunt Mira told you everything about them, even though she always warned you not to get close to them because it's too dangerous. Watch them from afar, but never get close to them, these were your aunt's words. But you want to touch them, see them, talk to them. It can't be that they are just murderers like your daddy says.

Your father told you that humans are always fighting among themselves, always ready to kill each other, to hurt each other, to prevail over each other and he once told you about a large group of humans wandering around from one corner of the sea to the other who does nothing but crave power and claim their dominion over that territory. Mira told you that when they don't live in their beautiful houses, they move from one place to another and use tents to sleep and several tents together form a camp.

Oh, it must be wonderful to move on ships or living in beautiful houses like the ones you've seen in the books you keep in a little nook away from everything and everyone!

You see many tents in the distance, so you know that further ahead there are many humans around. You look around you cautiously, close your eyes and strain your ears: there are some who speak of something and others who say something else, someone silence someone else and others are making strange thudding noises.

You open your eyes and step out of the water completely. After a few steps you turn toward the sea and see your home from the human perspective: a mass of dark water tossed by the wind. You turn around and look for something to cover yourself, you are completely naked and you aren’t sure if humans go around like that.

After getting dressed, you move silently and approach those voices that are gradually becoming louder and louder.

Then, you see him: a man with a grim and sharp look, his eyes are dark and he looks at the man at his feet with a serious expression. The kneeling man is shaking and says something you don’t understand, but the man in front of him continue to stare at him coldly, then someone behind the man with the cold gaze, approaches with something in his hands that has every appearance of being something dangerous. In a few seconds something happens that you never thought you'd see: the third man with that stuff in his hands, quickly approaches the kneeling man and hit him with that same item he has in his hands. The man falls on his side almost screaming, you open your eyes wide, amazed and scared at the same time by the speed of the gesture and by that dull scream emitted by the man on the ground who doesn’t move anymore.

You look at the cold-eyed man and the third man, the first one has an annoyed tone of voice towards the other one who in turn answers with great speed. Who knows what they are saying to each other!

Then, you look back at the man on the ground and only then you notice what what appears to be blood. You’ve seen enough, it's time to go back. But as you step back, you step on something that catch the eye of the cold-looking man who turns his head in your direction. Your eyes meet for the first time and you feel a strange sensation that make you run away quickly in the same direction you’ve taken to reach that field.

You can't run as your legs still hurt too much. A burning disappointment spread in your chest, maybe your father is right about humans and your aunt is wrong. You’ve almost reached the beach, when you hear the same voice behind you. His voice isn’t cold this time, he seems surprised. You don’t understand what he's telling you, it's the first time you hear a human speak. It's a strange language theirs, but for some reason, even though you don’t understand anything he's saying, you turn around towards him and his dark eyes almost freeze you in place as if he has cast a spell on you.

His voice don’t seem to be threatening at that moment, yet you see and hear how he addressed the others, who is the man in front of you? You press yourself against a tree behind you with a frightened look. You see him put away what he has in his hands and lift them up as if to reassure you, he speaks to you, his tone of voice is calm. It gives you the shivers. He starts to come towards you, approaching with a slow pace, you want to run away, but your legs don’t seem to respond to your desire to escape.

He's telling you something, his voice is warm and peaceful. Beautiful, almost musical. It reminds you of the echo that seashells produce on windy days. It's a nice sound, but it makes you shiver. He's now one step away from you, his eyes are so dark. His stained face has a strange color, his skin color is so unique.

You find yourself reaching out to his face, his first reaction is to pull away and you pull your hand away in fear of his response. Then, he seems to relax and you stretch out your hand again.

His skin is a little damaged and warm to the touch, tingling where his beard is, you graze the outline of his lips and face with your fingertips, then follow the line of a scar under his eye as if to memorize every detail of him. Humans are so beautiful, so fascinating. You want to tell him he's beautiful, but you don’t know how.

Then, something inexplicable happens: by touching him you can feel and see what he saw, he really saw so much. How much blood he shed and how many people he saw, how many he argued with, talked with, you can even sense his deep torment, you feel even more curious about him now!

You look him straight in the eyes for a long time and he looks back at you in silence. For a moment the air seems to hang between you two, then you wake up from that spell and withdrew your hands.

He speaks to you so sweetly that you almost have trouble associating him with that man with the cold, authoritative look from earlier and the bloody memories you somehow saw. His eyes have a hint of sadness that contradicts his fury in battle.

Maybe he’s not happy doing what he does!

You'd like to tell him that he's beautiful and at the same time how beautiful and complicated human nature is, but you don't know how to tell him. You wish you could talk to him, understand him.

Then, he talks to you again, walking away from you and you realize he's leaving. You didn't want him to leave, but you can't force him and then now more than ever you want to know everything about humans, their culture, how they live, but above all you want to know what he will do, where he will go.

You do the same thing without ever leaving those dark eyes that in the light seem to be the color of the sandy bottoms of your home.

When you are sure he’s gone, you slowly reach the shoreline. You turn in the direction you came from and think back to that human, Marcus Acacius. You were very struck by how he hides his torment behind that almost cold and authoritarian mask. He’s such a fascinating creature.

You smile as you think back to what the human — Marcus — has seen and done, oh how you wish you could see some of the many things he sees, experience them with him. It would be incredibly fascinating.

You stay there for a while, then when the wind ripples the surface of the sea, you understand it's time to go. You place the soles of your feet in the water and at that moment a sensation of trembling mixed with cold spreads inside you, a sharp, painful sensation jolts you and runs through your legs, then gives way to an almost giving way feeling in your legs. You end up falling forward and at that moment you no longer feel your nice long legs, but your tail again. You drag yourself through the water until your tail is completely submerged and you can dive back into the depths of the sea.

Oh, you want to talk to your aunt Mira, you want to ask her if she knows of a way to get you to stay on the surface longer.

In the days that follow, you often return to the surface, barely peeking out of the water just to see him, you often see him on the beach, sometimes you see him sharpening what you’ve learned to be a dagger, you see him take off his armor and remain on more than one occasion with only a gray tunic and thoughtfully observe the horizon. He looks sad, thoughtful. You wish you could see again what is bothering him so much, you wish you could help him.

You still haven't found the courage to go to your aunt and ask for what's closest to your heart: to become part of his world. You hope your aunt can help you, she knows a lot of things.

Every day now when the sun goes down, you come up to the surface just to see him. One day you see him sitting on a rock a few meters from the shore, you hide because you don't know how to explain to him of your fishtail, he probably wouldn't understand. You see him wearing a wet shirt completely adhered to his body, he’s all intent on washing his hands and arms, they are dirty with what appears to be mud. His hair is wet and his curls are matted and dripping with water, one curl falls untidily on his forehead. His features in the light of the sunset seem to be even more masculine and incredibly beautiful.

You reach out a hand towards his face even if from afar as if you wanted to caress him and at that moment a light wind rises and the man's hair is as if shaken by a tender breeze that leads him to look up towards the horizon and you to hide behind a rocky ridge.

Oh, Marcus..

“I'll find you,” you hear him whisper. It’s one of the first sentences you understand in the human language. In fact, in these days listening to them you have learned a lot and now you are starting to understand something too. You hope he's talking about you, though of course you're not sure.

Days go by and coming to the surface and being with him, even if at a considerable distance, has become a nice habit. You don't even care if your father sees you or not, you go to him. Unfortunately, a galley appears near the coast of the island and you understand that they have come to take the man away from there. Who knows where they're going... maybe if you followed them a little...

You don't regret following him, even if you go really far away from your home, but you don't care at all. You follow the ship at a distance fearing that someone might see you. You’ve been following him for almost three days and you often see him there on the deck. He often stands there staring at the horizon with a thoughtful expression, who knows what he's thinking about.

One day the sky is almost as black as the night sky, the clouds are so dark that they scare you and you are so afraid for him. The wind is so strong and the waves are getting so high that even swimming is difficult for you.

Then, everything changes in an instant. A bolt of lightning strikes the trunk of the ship, which breaks in two and hits Marcus who was not too far from the rail and falls overboard. You rush towards it, the water is so dark that for a moment you can't see anything.

A few moments later a noise reverberates in the sea waters and you see the ship sinking, it’s a disturbing sight. You move with difficulty through the waves, you see many objects that were surely on board end up down, then you see him.

You see him unconscious, whirling in the waves and ending up under. You swim as fast as you can and reach him, grabbing him and making him resurface.

“I’ll save you, don’t be afraid.” You tell him reassuringly, he opens his eyes for a moment and then closes them immediately and abandons himself on you.

You can't quantify the time that passes until you reach dry land. Without thinking that anyone might see the scene, you drag Marcus, still unconscious, to the shore.

You start to feel pain in your fish tail which is a sign that your tail has started to change and turning into legs, but it doesn’t matter now. You drag Marcus until he's almost completely out of the water, his hair is wet and full of sand and gravel, “Please, open your eyes,” you beg him, moving a wet curl that fell on his wet forehead. You look at him and notice his torn robe on his arm, there's a bloody cut and you immediately peel a scale off your tail to heal him.

“You are beautiful, Marcus,” you murmur, looking with a rapt air at his face, so beautiful that it reminds you of the one depicted in a book you have at the bottom of the sea. You caress his face, his burning lips, but this time you can't see anything, perhaps because he is unconscious. You put your head on his chest and you feel him breathing fortunately. Only now you give yourself a moment to relax and smile happily that he’s safe.

A few moments later when he starts to wake up, you lift your head from his chest and at that moment he opens his eyes. He has beautiful eyes, you can't help but smile at him, you murmur "You’ll be fine now, you’re safe.” You quickly let go of him when you hear a chatter approaching.

You leave him so quickly that you don't think he could have seen who you really are.When you are far enough away, you turn around and see him surrounded by a small group of people who have reached him and helped him, "Now you are safe." you repeat to yourself, casting one last glance towards him who never stops looking towards the sea.

You smile one last time before diving back in the bottomless blue of the sea and reaching your home again, but with the promise that you’ll soon return and see him again.

[despite-everything]

fuck im having an insane dysphoric moment.

[dodecademons]

Funny how like 90 percent of people wanting the wilds back hate to acknowledge the fact that it's partly their fault. I want the wilds to be renewed as well, however if I DARE say yall aren't ready for it and a small part of me thinks some viewers are undeserving I'm the bad guy. Right because the vast majority of you didn't openly admit to skipping over the boys parts in the show, smh. If you arent watching the whole episode why would they want to renew it? They want views, they want money. Do I want the wilds back? Of course. Do I think the gretchen clones deserve it? No. Be better.

[beatingfortwo]

.

[maudlxne]

❝ That's also true. Traveling because you have to or for other circumstances makes it less enjoyable. ❞

Not to mention the fact traveling wasn't always safe. Even for civilians and merchants. Between rouge attacks and supply ambushes. It's why merchants often put in applications for protection. Even then traveling could be daunting for another reason. After a certain point, even the trees begin to blur together. There had once been a mission that felt like it had been dragging on for far longer than it had due to such a sensation.

❝ Plenty are probably ready to set down roots of their own now. Maybe as we get older . . . such things like travel have less of an allure as well. ❞

It really wasn't too much of a surprise that there had been an increase in weddings and new families after the war. Many had realized how easily life could be taken away and chose to spend what precious time they had with people they loved. Even with there being peace the life of any ninja wasn't guaranteed. Most tend to live fast and die young. Some even before they had a chance to grow out of their teens . . . which was still a sickening feeling.

She took her town teacup into her hands. Raising it up to take a sip when he spoke. Once again finding herself surprised by his response. How he took into consideration her words and pointed her in a direction. She paused slightly, setting down the cup before it even reached her lips in favor of meeting his visible onyx hue.

❝ Uzushio . . . I will have to remember that. Thank you . . . Sasuke. I would like to visit at least once in my life. I - I think you're a kind person. You didn't have to give me tips on where to go. Yet I'm really happy you did . . . ❞

Perhaps it is a presumptuous thought based off of what limited contact they have had today. This was merely idle conversation and the response could have meant little to him. Yet he kept surprising her at every turn. It would be a lie to say she didn't have some assumptions about who Sasuke was as a person going into this. Yet the man before her her completely re-written most of that. Everyone makes assumptions after all. Only fools let those rule as absolute fact instead of discovering the truth for themselves.

❝ You say you hardly speak - yet I find you a wonderful conversationalist so far. Oh - w - well I guess you've mostly been listening to me prattle. ❞

It was almost strange how comfortable she was right now. Perhaps letting her guard down too early or perhaps not. She's always been a person who wore her fragile heart on her sleeve and followed it blindly.

" Most shinobi have, " he said, " I would imagine travelling for work kills the wanderlust in most. "

That and the pesky fact that once one has seen one village, they all start to look the same. Save for the design of the architecture and the smaller facets of culture. A shinobi career dulls the enjoyment of smaller, finer things; far too focused on potential squabbles and ambushes.

At some point, their drinks made it to the table and Sasuke already clasped his tea up between his fingers, sipping gingerly to it as he listened to the Hyuuga.

" Lotus flowers... " he travels back into his mind of where he might've seen some, " they are native to the Kawa no Kuni. "

Sasuke thought some more, " there's more aquatic life around near the remnants of Uzushio that curve along the peninsula up towards Kiri. " He speaks these locations to her as if she ever had a planned to go. It might be helpful, he thinks.

" If - you were serious about going," he tagged on.

[gregoftom]

mannnn who up tearing up over the sticker scene

[vulpinesaint]

my problematic gender truth is that i actually feel no attachment to either of the two binary gender constructs. it just like. makes no sense to me. i've got my own unrelated thing going on. but in the absence of connection to either choice i really do find it more convenient to cosplay closer to the one that people treat like a human being

[magentagalaxies]

.

[aberooski]

Okay I have enough fics and shit to write right now as it is, I currently have 4 in the works 🙃, but last night while I was trying to sleep I had a thought. I think I came up with a very baseline very bare bones idea for a possible OUAD 2.

A possible title for which I came up with was Once Upon A Kingdom OUAK if you will. And literally as I typed this out, Once Upon A Winter OUAW akskskskk and it would take place months after the events of OUAD, Chazz and Atticus are officially a couple now, and Atty takes him on a trip to see the Northern Kingdom or the Crystal Kingdom if ur in with the OUAD deep lore 👀 where he and Lexi are from and with Jay, Sy, and Hassleberry in tow, winter wonderland hijinks and capers ensue 👀

Now I have no idea what the actual greater plot would be but I really like the idea of visiting another kingdom since in the 'deep lore' there are 5 kingdoms that exist in the world, but since the Kingdom of the East was canonically destroyed by Slade and Jagger before the events of OUAD, there's still 3 other kingdoms outside the Golden Kingdom. The northern, western, and southern kingdoms if you will. The Golden Kingdom is the central kingdom. So we get to see more of the world, and open the door for more of the ensemble cast to get involved, I fully intend to include Jesse and Bastion at the very minimum if I wrote this I fully imagined a whole conversation with Jaden and Jesse last night, immortal magical fairy Jay gets to flirt with the cute human boy 👀 so I have thoughts happening ☺

Like I said I have no idea what an actual greater plot would look like yet and I have way too much to work on right now to put too much thought into it right now, but I promise babes. OUAD 2 may be on the back burner right now, but it is also very firmly on the table 😉

[talkorsomething]

genuinely tried to Be Asleep for like two hours this time and just couldn't. I think i'm cursed [unwell]

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Danny the Guy Who Won't Die

He lives in Gotham, and he is just A Guy. Nothing weird about him, he's just there to study/work/help Lady Gotham to lift her curse/on vacation with Sam. Point is, he is not there to cause trouble and there's no GIW on his tail. Just a dude living his (after)life.

And Gotham, being Gotham, still finds a way to be annoying. There are mugging attempts, robbery, Rogues running around. Only Danny really doesn't want to deal with any of it.

Now there's a dilemma. If he uses his powers to fight, it will sooner or later come to Bats' attention. And if he fights as a human, it will also alert some of the Bats since he doesn't really do a great job at keeping his power levels low. Not to mention the fact he is really not enthusiastic about accidentally punching someone hard enough he sends them to a hospital.

What does he do instead? He pulls the 'I guess I'll die' act.

So every time he is attacked, he just plays dead. The mugger shot him in the chest? He falls down and stops breathing. Caught up in the middle of a Poison Ivy attack? Skewers himself on the vine and goes lax. Scarecrow's Fear Gas? Very dramatically chokes himself and plays a corpse. He makes sure to disappear before any ambulances arrive later, and it all goes well for a few months - he is just a casualty, who cares, really - until one day, he runs into that same mugger who shot him in the chest a while ago.

The man does a double take. Danny doesn't notice - he's been mugged so many times, who has the brain capacity to remember all of those fuckers. But the rumor goes out anyway.

A guy-who-won't-die. It's more of a city legend, really, and the Bats don't give it much thought since, well, it sounds stupid and not very important. A rumor of some man who was shot dead and then showed up like nothing happened? Yeah, it's probably because the mugger didn't check if he was actually dead. That happens. Maybe it wasn't even the same man, Gotham is a big city. If anything, hey, at least that was one less casualty? That's a good thing.

That is, until one day, they show up to Joker's hostage situation and witness the clown screaming at one of the hostages. He is so enraged he is shaking, spit flying out of his mouth, and, contrary to the usual Joker's evil sneers and maniacal laughter, he seems just... furious. But, like, the normal-human-level furious. The 'I just lost the last ounce of patience with you' furious.

"Don't you look away from me, you think I don't remember you?! Na-ah, I do. You were the one I drowned in the shark tank last week! And you were the one run through the chainsaw trap two weeks before that! And you were in the guillotine!!! I saw your fucking head get deattached from your body, how the fuck are you here again?!"

And the guy he is screaming at just looks at him, confused and incomprehensive.

"Um, I'm pretty sure I'd remember getting my head cut off, you know? So, err, wrong guy."

"Wrong guy my fucking ass-"

Joker is so distracted by his screaming match that it makes it almost too easy for the Bats to fight him down and drag to Arkham. Yet, a few of them get just a bit suspicious.

Now, imagine all the shenanigans when they try keeping a watch on Danny the Won't Die Guy.

[mariasont]

My Boss Won't Be Happy About This - A.H

a/n: back to bimbo brain rot!!!! inspired by the first season that one episode (you know the one) where hotch is all macho man with elle in jamaica

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: you’re wrongfully arrested and hotch is not happy about it

warnings: creepy officer, inaccuracies of how law enforcement works, hotch being sexy

wc: 1.3k

"Listen I'm not the type of girl to tell someone how to do their job, but I just don't think you're doing it right."

You were speaking to an empty room, or at least, you were speaking to the mirror in front of you. It's the kind of mirror you had seen in countless interrogation scenes, the kind you usually image Hotch standing behind. You let your gaze linger, wondering if eyes are studying you from the other side, listening to your monologue.

"Well, that, and I also just don't think it's very nice." Your brand spanking new heels were tapping against the dirty floor. 

You weren't happy about that. You weren't happy about any of this. Your feet ache, but the fear of the germs lurking on the floor paralyzes any thoughts of relief by removing your shoes.

"And hey, shouldn't I get a phone call? That's a rule, I think," you mumble, lips turning downward in an unusual frown. It seems like the right time for it. "My boss is not going to take this well. I mean, he's got this look, you know? The kind that makes you want to apologize for things you didn't even do."

You conjured up his daunting expression and released a jittery laugh, all while striving to disregard the biting cold blasting from the AC vent, which seemed determine to freeze you into place. 

You were seriously out of your element, not just in surroundings but in dress--so form-fitting it left very little to the imagination. It seemed to be a good idea for a date. That was before you realized said date would be a complete disaster. Now, it felt like a trap. It had been a spectacle for a man unworthy of the effort, and as you sat in this rigid chair, you found yourself tugging at the hem every other moment, a futile attempt to preserve some semblance of modesty.

"So, when he hears about this little error... Well, let's just say I wouldn't want to be in your shoes." Six hours had passed in this dreary space, and you could feel your sanity fraying at the edges. You muttered, half to yourself, "Not that they're as cute as mine, but you get the point."

The door hinge's creak made you sit bolt upright, a silent supplication for Hotch's rescue echoing through your mind. But today, it seemed, the gods were indifferent. The officer who had arrested you stepped in.

"Having fun talking to yourself?"

You flashed your sweetest smile. "Oh, tons! But I'd have much more fun if you'd uncuff me."

He said nothing, folding his arms over his chest as he dragged his gaze up and down your body in a way that made your skin prickle in discomfort. You attempted to dispel the creeping dread, but it stubbornly lingered.

You did what you could to cover up, despite the awkward angle of your arms. "Listen, this is all just a big mistake. I work for the FBI," you insisted, though it was clear the officer's attention was fixated on your tits rather than your words. "Well, I mean, I'm an assistant for the unit chief of the BAU unit. You've heard of Aaron Hotchner, haven't you?"

The officer's mouth closed without a word, as the door was thrust open yet again, and this time, your heart leapt in recognition. Your knight in shining armor with a lethal expression.

His eyes instantly zeroed in on the officer with a look that could curdle blood, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that you weren't the object of his anger. He approached you wordlessly, his every motion precise and determined.

He carefully shed his jacket, a gesture he seldom made, and draped it across your shoulders. The fleeting caress of his hand against your skin was enough to make you lean into his touch. You let out a breath that you had been unconsciously holding back. 

You watched as Hotch turned, his voice a low, steady force, his words carefully chosen and tinged with an unsettling peace. "Officer," he began, the title spoken almost as warning. "I believe there has been a grave misunderstanding. This woman is not only an esteemed member of the FBI, but she is also under my direct supervision."

He stepped closer, encroaching on the officer's personal space. You watched, almost in slow motion, as the officer's expression morphed into one of sheer terror, his earlier confidence dissolving like sugar in hot tea.

"Six hours," he continued, his voice never rising yet somehow it took up all the space in the confined room. "Six hours of unwarranted detention, without due process. I expect her immediate release. And make no mistake, this lapse in judgment will have its ramifications."

The officer was mute, his fingers clumsily unlocking the handcuffs, his movements hurried, his hands trembling. A twinge of pity flickered within you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the memory of considering the table as a makeshift blanket.

The moment the metal clicked open; you wasted no time. You flung your arms around Hotch, the pent relief and biting chill of the past few hours pouring out of you. You were desperate for warmth, specifically his warmth.

He stiffened, caught off guard by your actions. You feel the anger radiating through him, practically pulsing through his skin. As you clung to him, you felt the draft on your legs as your dress slid up, and without missing a beat Hotch's hand discreetly adjusted the fabric, all while keeping his eyes locked on the officer, a silent warning in his gaze.

Once he was certain you were decently covered, he allowed himself to draw him into his arms. One arm secured around your waist, the other weaving through your hair. You were cold. It renewed another tide of rage through his bloodstream.

With the officer's departure, the room's oppressive atmosphere lightened a touch, leaving you still latched onto your boss.

"Oh, sir, you wouldn't believe it," you started, his hands tracing up your spine and sparking a trail of goosebumps that had nothing to do with the chill. "They kept asking me about a heist, as if I'd know anything about that! And then they show me this picture, and I mean, sure, she had my hair, but that's about it."

You rambled on, and he let you, the absurdity of the situation pouring out in a stream of consciousness. Hotch's hold on you tightened. You could sense the coiled tension in him, a tempest of anger held a bay.

"And the room, it was so cold! I mean, I'm sure you can tell. My teeth were chattering, and all I could think of was how I'd rather be filing your paperwork or listening to Reid's factoids about the quantum mechanics of coffee beans."

You felt Hotch's breath on your hair as he let out a sigh. 

"I'm just glad you're here now," you whispered, finally allowing yourself to relax in his embrace.

Hotch gave a curt nod, his jaw set. He was itching to confront the officer, to unleash a tirade not meant for your ears. But he was well aware of how much you needed him right now, and that trumped everything in his book.

Hotch took a moment to compose himself before speaking. "This isn't just incompetence; it's negligence. I will have this place reevaluated for its standards, or lack thereof."

You took a step back, hands still resting on his arms, and he maintained his grip on your waist. "I bet this is the last time you'll let me go on a date without a full background check on the guy, huh, sir?"

Hotch's hold on your waist firmed just a fraction. "Maybe it's the last time I let you go on a date, period."

He was only half-joking.

"Not even with you?" You tilted your head to meet his gaze, drawing his jacket closer around you.

Hotch just simply gives you that look, the one that says a thousand words without a sound. He's telling you to tread lightly.

"Alright, I'll be good," you giggle, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Can you take me home now, please?"

He nods, "Yeah, let's get you home."

And then he leads you out, thinking to himself that the next person to take you out will be him, but that's for him to know and you to find out later.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna