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IF THERE'S NOTHING LEFT - CH.1
Chapter One: Be The Light, When All The Lights Go Out
Summary: You, a skilled healer, are brought to Rome by Senator Gracchus under the pretense of treating gladiators and Roman elites. You work with General Marcus Acacius to fight against the cruel reign of the twin emperors. Through danger and shared hope, your connection becomes a source of strength as you both dream of freeing Rome.
Paring: General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, ANGST, Fluff, SMUT, Age-Gap(ish), Ancient Rome, Canon-Typical Violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, War, Romance, Politics, Alternate Universe, Eventual SMUT, Slavery, Sexism, Misogyny, Guilt, PTSD, Rebellion, Empires, (Very Light) Strangers-to-Enemies-to-Friends-to-Lovers, Crowds, Shouting, Animals, Duels, Loose Historical Fiction,
Word Count: 5.8k
A/N: I COULDNâT HELP MYSELF⊠I NEEDED TO START THIS FIC. RRRAAAAAHHHH. Also, Marcus and Lucilla are NOT married in this fic/AU lmao. I might get some terms wrong since I canât find the complete script yet (pls help) so I'll be editing this as time passes. And Iâm like⊠not a historian so lol.Â
Side note: Iâm dyslexic and English isnât my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!
Song: If There's Nothing Left by NIKI
â Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist |
A DAY BEFORE THE RANSACKING OF NUMIDIA
ROME, 200 A.D. â DAY
The air in your clinic was heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of sweat. Shouts and groans from the injured filled the space, their voices blending into a cacophony of pain that would have broken a lesser person. But not you. Â
You moved with the precision of a master sculptor, your hands steady as you sutured the gaping wound on a gladiatorâs shoulder. Blood seeped into the linen bandages youâd prepared, but you didnât flinch. Your focus was unshakable, the outside world forgotten as you worked to save the life in front of you.
General Marcus Acacius stood in the shadows of the doorway, his imposing frame unnoticed amidst the chaos. His dark eyes were fixed on you, the healer who had garnered whispers throughout Rome. He had heard of your work, of courseâhow you treated anyone who came through your doors, from nobles to slaves, without regard for their station. It was rare to see such defiance of societal norms, rarer still to see it done with such quiet grace. Â
He watched as you leaned closer to the wounded man, murmuring words of reassurance. Â
âStay still, brave one,â you said softly, your voice low and soothing, cutting through his pain like a balm. âThe worst of it is over. Youâll be back in the arena soon enough, though Iâd rather you didnât return at all.â Â
The gladiator managed a weak chuckle, wincing as you tied off the last stitch. âYou speak as if I have a choice.â Â
Your lips curved into a wry smile, though sadness lingered in your eyes. âPerhaps one day you will.â Â
Marcus found himself captivatedânot just by your skill, but by the quiet authority you wielded in the room. It was rare for him to see someone move with such purpose, commanding respect without ever raising their voice. Â
âYou risk much, treating slaves and gladiators,â Marcus said, his voice deep and cutting through the din like a blade.Â
You didnât look up, finishing your work before addressing him. âAnd you risk much, General, entering a place like this.â Â
There was no fear in your tone, only a calm defiance that piqued his curiosity. Marcus stepped closer, his boots echoing on the stone floor.
âIâve seen many healers,â he said, his gaze unwavering. âNone with hands as steady as yours. Nor one who speaks so freely.â Â
You glanced up at him then, your eyes meeting his with an intensity that momentarily silenced the chaos around you. He was a striking figure, his presence commanding and his face marked by years of war. But it was his eyes that caught youâthe deep well of pain and weariness they carried, hidden beneath a veneer of stoicism. Â
âPerhaps thatâs because most healers know when to hold their tongue,â you replied, arching a brow. âBut Iâve found that truth tends to have a healing quality of its own.â Â
The corner of his mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile. âAnd yet, truth has also been known to end lives, particularly in Rome.â Â
You returned your attention to the gladiator, checking the bandages one last time. âThen it seems we both walk a fine line, General.â Â
Something about the way you said his title felt less like deference and more like acknowledgment. It wasnât fear or awe that guided your words, but a quiet understanding of who he was and the power he held. Â
Marcus watched as you moved to the next patient, a young boy with a deep gash on his leg. Despite the blood staining your hands and the weariness etched into your features, you treated the boy with the same care and kindness you had shown the gladiator.
âWhy do you do it?â Marcus asked suddenly, his voice softer now. âWhy risk your safety for those Rome has deemed unworthy?â
You paused, glancing at him over your shoulder. For a moment, the question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning.
âBecause someone has to,â you said simply. âIf I donât, who will?â
The honesty of your answer struck something deep within Marcus. He had spent years justifying his actions as a soldier, telling himself that the violence he carried out was for the good of Rome. Yet here you were, defying the very structure that upheld his world, all for the sake of compassion.
As Marcus continued to watch you, he couldnât help but wonder if he was witnessing something rareâsomething that Rome, in all its grandeur, could not crush. For the first time in a long while, he felt a spark of hope.
You broke the silence first, turning to face him fully. âShouldnât you be with your armyâoverseeing the ships and preparing to ransack Numidia, yet another city, all for the so-called âGlory of Romeâ?â You arched a brow at him, shifting your weight onto one hip with a subtle air of defiance.
The corner of Marcusâs mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly. âPerhaps,â he replied, his voice low, âbut I find myself drawn elsewhere.â
âElsewhere?â You tilted your head, your tone edged with skepticism. âSurely the great General Marcus Acacius has more pressing matters than standing in a healerâs clinic.â
âPerhaps,â he repeated, stepping closer. âBut standing here, I begin to wonder if those pressing matters might pale in comparison to what Iâve found.âÂ
Your breath hitched, but you recovered quickly, letting out a soft laugh. âFlattery from a general. I never thought Iâd see the day.â
âItâs not flattery,â he said, his eyes locking with yours. âItâs truth.â
You couldnât help but laugh softly, shaking your head. âCareful, General. If you keep talking like that, people might start to think you have a heart.â
âPerhaps I do,â he said, his tone quiet, thoughtful. âAnd perhaps itâs found something worth fighting for, beyond Rome.â
Your breath caught at his words, your heart pounding in a way you hadnât felt in years. But before you could respond, Marcus turned and walked toward the door, his heavy boots echoing in the quiet.
âIâll return,â he said without looking back. âThereâs still much I need to learn from you.â
And as he disappeared into the sunlight, leaving you alone in the quiet of your clinic, you couldnât help but feel that your world had shiftedâjust a little, but enough to make you wonder what might come next.
ROME, 200 A.D. â AFTERNOON
The light of the afternoon sun streamed through the tall, arched windows of Senator Gracchusâs residence, casting golden patterns across the polished marble floors. You moved with practiced ease through the grand room, gathering fresh bandages and jars of ointment from your bag while keeping an ear to the Senatorâs usual musings. Today, however, your mind was elsewhere.
âDid you send him to me?â you asked, your tone casual but your curiosity evident. You didnât look up as you sorted through your supplies, your hands deftly organizing the salves and herbs.
âSend who?â Senator Gracchus replied, reclining on his plush lectus, the deep crimson cushions making him look more regal than his age might suggest. His tone was light, but there was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. He was far too clever to play coy without reason.
âThe General. General Acacius.â You paused, glancing at him from the corner of your eye before returning to your work.
The Senatorâs lips curled into a knowing smile as he raised his chalice of wine. âAh, Marcus. I may have mentioned your name in passing conversation.â
You froze for a moment, your brow furrowing. âIn passing conversation?âÂ
âOf course.â He swirled the wine lazily in his cup. âI simply spoke of a brilliant healer who mends not just bodies but spirits. It seems the good general decided to see for himself if the rumors were true.â
You let out a soft huff, shaking your head as you resumed unpacking your things. âWell, he approached me today.â
âAnd how was he?â Gracchus asked, leaning forward slightly, his expression both intrigued and amused.
âHe seemedâŠâ You hesitated, your hands stilling as you searched for the right words. Memories of the encounter flickered in your mindâhis commanding presence, the intensity in his eyes, the way his words seemed to linger long after heâd spoken them. âAlright, I suppose,â you said finally, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt at nonchalance.Â
Gracchus chuckled softly, setting his chalice down on a nearby table. âAlright, you suppose? My dear, youâre a terrible liar.â
You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âIt means,â the Senator began, his tone teasing, âthat youâve just met one of the most formidable men in Rome, and yet here you are pretending he didnât make an impression.â
Your cheeks warmed slightly, though you refused to let it show. âImpression or not, I donât see how itâs relevant. Iâm here to heal people, not⊠whatever it is youâre insinuating.â
âOh, Iâm not insinuating anything,â Gracchus said with a sly grin. âBut let me give you a piece of advice, my dear. Men like Marcus Acacius donât walk into someoneâs life without a reason.â
âPerhaps he was just curious,â you said, turning away to mask the flutter of nerves that crept up your spine. âOr bored.â
âCuriosity doesnât often bring him to clinics,â the Senator mused, leaning back once more. âBoredom even less so. Whatever the reason, Iâd wager it has little to do with medicine.â
You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. âIf this is your way of playing matchmaker, Senator, Iâd prefer you didnât.â
âAnd here I thought youâd appreciate a distraction,â Gracchus said, raising his chalice once more. âBut very well. Consider the matter dropped.â
For now, you thought, knowing full well that Gracchus wasnât one to let things go so easily. As you busied yourself with preparing his treatment, you couldnât help but replay the moment youâd locked eyes with Marcus Acacius, his gaze heavy with something you couldnât quite name.Â
Alright, you supposed. But deep down, you knew it was far more than that.
A FEW WEEKS LATERâŠ
OSTIA, PORT OF ROME â DAYÂ Â
The sun blazed high over the port, casting a golden glow over the triumphant scene unfolding below. The air was alive with the sound of celebrationâthe roar of the crowd, the rhythmic chanting of his name. Â
âAcacius! Acacius! Acacius!â Â
You stood at a distance, hidden in the shadows of a towering marble column, your gaze fixed on the man at the center of the spectacle. Marcus Acacius, the war hero of Rome, returned victorious. His white chariot, pulled by majestic horses, moved with deliberate grace through the throng of citizens who waved laurel branches and tossed flowers into the air. Â
The general himself was a vision of Roman splendor, adorned in white and gold, a flowing cape billowing behind him like the wings of an avenging angel. He waved politely to the people, his expression calm and composed, though you suspected a storm brewed beneath that veneer. Â
As the chariot came to a halt at the steps of the grand Temple of Mars Ultor, young girls dressed in flowing white tunics and crowned with fresh flowers scattered rose petals in his path. He ascended the steps with measured strides, the marble beneath his feet gleaming in the sunlight. Â
You stood among the other servants, the weight of a velvet pillow in your hands anchoring you to the moment. Atop the pillow rested a crown of golden laurels, shimmering with the promise of empty glory. Senator Gracchus had arranged for you to present it, an honor you neither wanted nor could refuse. Your palms were damp with nerves, but it wasnât fear of the crowd or ceremony that unsettled you. It was the cruel spectacle of it allâthe emperors reveling in their power while Rome decayed beneath their feet. Â
Marcus reached the top of the steps, standing before the twin emperors. Geta, younger and deceptively charming, gestured to the approaching general. Caracalla, brooding and sharp-featured, watched with an intensity that made the scene feel like a predator sizing up prey. Â
Marcus placed a fist over his heart in the Roman salutatio, nodding first to one and then the other. âEmperor Geta,â he began, his voice steady. He turned his gaze to the other. âEmperor Caracalla.â Â
âGeneral Acacius,â Geta replied with a wide, practiced smile. Â
Marcus straightened, his tone humble yet firm. âI have taken Numidia in your names. Your dominion may yet eclipse that of every emperor who came before you.â Â
Caracalla smirked, gesturing lazily to you with a flick of his hand. âCrown him with laurels, brother.â Â
Your heart leapt as all eyes turned to you. You stepped forward, forcing yourself to keep your movements measured. Bowing your head slightly, you presented the pillow to Geta. He took the crown, sparing you no more than a dismissive glance, and you retreated quickly, blending back into the shadows as the ceremony continued. Â
Geta placed the golden laurels atop Marcusâs salt-and-pepper curls, his smile widening as the crowd erupted in cheers. The senators clapped politely, their faces masks of approval, though you wondered how many of them truly celebrated the general's return. Â
The procession moved inside the temple, where the grandeur of marble columns and gilded statues loomed over the gathering. You lingered near the edges of the hall, half-hidden among other attendants. Your eyes were drawn to Marcus, who stood surrounded by Romeâs elite yet seemed entirely apart from them. Â
Geta approached Marcus with two chalices of wine, his gait almost casual. âIn honor of your conquest, there will be games in the Colosseum,â he said, handing one to the general. Â
Marcus accepted it with a polite nod, though his expression remained neutral. âI require no games in my honor. Serving the senate and the people of Rome is honor enough for me.â Â
He raised the chalice to toast, but Geta pulled his cup back with a sharp laugh. âYou are too modest, Acacius. It does not suit a general as accomplished as yourself.â He clinked their glasses together before Marcus could respond, his tone dripping with mockery. Â
âThe glory is yours, not mine,â Marcus replied, his words measured. âI only ask for respite from war. To spend time withâŠâ His voice trailed off as his gaze flickered brieflyâso brieflyâtoward you. Â
Your breath hitched, the moment so fleeting that you questioned whether it had happened at all. Â
Caracalla, lounging nearby, smirked. âTime for what, general? Gardens and poetry? Or something sweeter?â Â
Geta ignored his brother, moving to a table where a long ceremonial sword rested. He lifted it, examining the blade with a predatory gleam in his eyes. âThere are victories yet to come, Acacius.â Â
He turned back toward the general, raising the sword as if to knight him. Lightly, he tapped Marcusâs shoulders, then paused, the blade hovering near his neck. Â
âPersia. India. Both must be conquered.â Â
With a slow, deliberate motion, Geta pressed the edge of the blade against Marcusâs neck, the sharp metal breaking skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood. Â
Marcus didnât flinch, though his expression darkened. His voice was low, steady, and cold. âRome has so many subjects. She must feed them.â Â
He swatted the blade away from his neck, a flicker of defiance passing between him and the emperor. Â
Caracallaâs laugh rang out, sharp and cruel. âThey can eat war!â Â
Geta let the sword clatter to the floor, the sound echoing across the hall. âYour triumphs will be celebrated, General Acacius,â he said, his tone pointed. âAs a tribute to the greatness of the Roman people.â Â
He extended his hand, adorned with gaudy rings, and Marcus had no choice but to bow and kiss it. You saw the flicker of disdain in his eyes even as his lips brushed the emperorâs hand. Â
From your shadowed corner, your heart ached for him. For the man who bore the weight of Romeâs sins with a quiet dignity that deserved so much more than the cruelty of its rulers. Â
VILLA DI DOMITIA LUCILLA ïżœïżœ NIGHT Â
The villa perched on the outskirts of Rome exuded a quiet elegance, its columns and arches glowing under the pale light of the moon. The night was thick with fog, curling like tendrils of smoke through the cypress trees that lined the estate. A gentle breeze carried the scent of rosemary and lavender from the gardens, mingling with the faint hum of nocturnal life. Â
Inside, the villa was equally serene. Lucilla, ever gracious, had agreed to host you at the request of Senator Gracchus. The senator had claimed it was âmore appropriateâ for you to stay under her care, given the delicate balance of Roman customs and the constant scrutiny of the twin emperors. In truth, you suspected it was also for your safety. Lucillaâs influence, though quietly wielded, was a shield few dared to challenge. Â
The villa was warm and inviting, a haven amidst the chaos of Rome. Yet, even as you settled into your temporary quarters, a restlessness stirred within you. You missed the simplicity of your small home, the steady rhythm of your work. Here, despite Lucillaâs kindness, you felt like a guest in gilded captivity. Â
Meanwhile, Marcus Acacius found himself battling his own restlessness. When he learned you were staying with Lucilla, the knowledge sparked an idea he could hardly ignore. Though he was no stranger to the villaâit was a place he visited often as a long-time confidant of Lucillaâtonight, his reasons for coming were far from casual. Â
He rode through the foggy night, his steed's hooves echoing against the stone-paved road. The air was cold, biting against his cheeks, but he barely noticed. Two of his guards flanked him, silent and watchful as shadows. Â
When he reached the gates of the villa, a sentry stepped forward, his spear raised in a show of duty. âHalt! Who goes there?â Â
The torchlight illuminated Marcusâs face, and recognition dawned on the guard. His stance shifted immediately. Placing a fist over his heart, he bowed. âGeneral.â Â
âOpen the gates,â Marcus commanded, his voice steady but not unkind. Â
The heavy iron gates creaked open, and Marcus dismounted his steed with practiced ease. A stable boy rushed forward to take the reins, bowing quickly before leading the horse away. Marcus adjusted his cloak, brushing off the dampness of the night, and stepped into the villaâs grounds. Â
Inside, Lucilla greeted him in the atrium, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders and her sharp eyes glinting with curiosity. âMarcus,â she said warmly, though there was a knowing lilt to her tone. âI wasnât expecting you tonight.â Â
âI hope Iâm not intruding,â Marcus replied, his lips curving into a polite smile. âI was nearby and thought it prudent to pay a visit.â Â
âNearby?â Lucilla arched an elegant brow. âUnless the general has taken to wandering the countryside aimlessly at night, I suspect thereâs more to this visit than proximity.â Â
Marcus didnât answer immediately, his eyes scanning the villaâs hall. It was quieter than usual, the stillness broken only by the faint crackle of torches and the murmur of distant voices. Â
Lucilla stepped closer, her expression softening. âSheâs in the east wing,â she said, her voice dropping slightly. Â
Marcus turned to her, his gaze sharp. âWho?â Â
Lucilla smirked, crossing her arms. âYou didnât ride through the night for me, Marcus. Donât insult my intelligence.â Â
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. âYou always see through me, Lucilla.â Â
âItâs a gift,â she quipped, then gestured toward the hallway. âGo. But donât wake the entire villa with your heavy boots.â Â
Marcus inclined his head in thanks before making his way toward the east wing. The soft glow of oil lamps guided his path, casting flickering shadows on the walls. As he approached your quarters, his steps slowed. Â
You were seated by the window, a soft blanket draped over your shoulders, gazing out at the misty garden. The stillness of the night felt fragile, like it might shatter at the slightest sound. The dim light of the oil lamp beside you softened your features, though weariness lingered in your eyes. Â
A soft clearing of a throat broke the silence, low but deliberate. Â
You turned quickly, your heart skipping at the unexpected intrusion. âGeneral Acacius?â Â
He leaned against the doorway, his armor traded for a plain, white tunic and dark cloak that suited the quiet of the night. His lips curled into a faint smirk. âMy lady.â Â
âI am no lady, General,â you corrected, your brow arching slightly. Â
âMarcus,â he said, stepping into the room with a deliberate grace. âAnd I didnât mean to disturb you.â Â
âYou didnât,â you replied, though the confusion in your voice was evident. âWhat brings you here at this hour?â Â
For a moment, he hesitated, as if weighing his words. Then, with a slight shrug, he said, âI wanted to ensure you were settling in comfortably. Lucillaâs hospitality can be... unique.â Â
A faint smile tugged at your lips. âItâs generous, though I canât help but feel a bit out of place.â Â
Marcus nodded, his expression thoughtful. âThis villa has always felt like a sanctuary. But I know it can be difficult to find peace in unfamiliar surroundings.â Â
For a while, silence stretched between you. The weight of the world outside the villaâRomeâs cruelty, the constant tensionâseemed to press lightly against the walls, but here, in this moment, the quiet was soothing. Â
âDid you really ride all this way just to check on me?â you asked, a teasing note in your voice that broke through the stillness. Â
His lips twitched, the beginnings of a smile warming his face. âWould you believe me if I said yes?â Â
You tilted your head, studying him carefully, your gaze soft but sharp. âI might.â Â
He stepped closer, the flickering light of the lamp catching the faintest glimmer in his dark eyes. His expression, though tempered by years of military discipline, held a warmth that made your heart skip. Â
âGood,â he murmured, his voice low and steady. Â
The room seemed smaller suddenly, the air charged with something unspoken. You cleared your throat, shifting slightly, your hands clutching at the fabric of your skirts as if to anchor yourself. Â
âI thank the gods that brought you back home safe,â you said, your voice quieter now, tinged with something deeper. Â
Marcusâs gaze didnât falter. âThank the army,â he replied humbly. âThey protected me.â Â
You nodded, acknowledging his words. âYou must be hungry, then?â Â
He raised a brow, clearly amused by the shift in the conversation, but he didnât resist. âIt has been a long ride.â Â
Turning, you glanced toward the servant standing silently near the doorway. You offered her an apologetic smile, and she nodded in understanding before quietly leaving the room to fetch food and drink. Â
As the door closed behind her, you turned back to Marcus. âItâs the least I can offer after you came all this way.â Â
His lips twitched again, his faint smile now fully formed. âYouâve already offered more than you know.â Â
You blinked, tilting your head in quiet curiosity. âWhat do you mean?â Â
âYour kindness,â he said simply, stepping closer still. âItâs rare in Rome. Even rarer in my world.â Â
Your cheeks warmed under his steady gaze, and you quickly turned your attention back to the window, hoping the dim light would hide your reaction. âI only do what anyone should.â Â
âPerhaps,â he said softly, âbut not everyone does.â Â
The sincerity in his voice sent a flutter through your chest. When you finally looked back at him, he was closer now, his presence commanding but not overwhelming. Â
âYouâre too generous with your praise, Marcus,â you said, though the words felt light, almost teasing. Â
âAnd youâre far too modest,â he countered, the smirk returning to his lips. Â
The sound of footsteps approaching signaled the servantâs return, breaking the charged silence between you. She entered with a tray of fruit, bread, and wine, placing it on the small table by the window before bowing and retreating once more. Â
You gestured toward the table, a soft smile gracing your lips. âPlease, sit. Youâve had a long day.â Â
Marcus inclined his head, his expression grateful as he took the seat opposite you. The light from the lamp flickered between you, casting long shadows on the walls. Â
As you poured wine into two cups, the flickering lamplight caught the soft curve of your profile, drawing his gaze. Marcus watched you, his expression thoughtful, warm, and just a little too intense. Â
âYou should know,â he began, his voice low and deliberate, âthis isnât just about ensuring youâre comfortable.â Â
Your hands hesitated for the briefest moment before continuing their task, but the air in the room seemed to thicken. You glanced up at him, your brow arching as you placed one of the cups in front of him. âHave you finally come to your senses and decided to arrest me? For treating those the Senate deems unworthy of saving?â Â
The corner of his mouth twitched, a wry, fleeting almost-smile. âNo.â Â
You leaned back slightly, folding your arms across your chest, your head tilting in mock suspicion. âThen perhaps youâve come to lecture me? To remind me how dangerous it is to meddle in things beyond my station?â Â
His gaze softened, the warmth in it almost unsettling. âDo you think so little of me?â Â
The teasing edge in your posture faltered for just a moment before you quickly recovered, glancing down into your own cup. âYouâre a General, Marcus. Youâre loyal to Rome. To the Senate. My workâŠâ You shrugged, trying to sound casual despite the weight in your voice. âIt doesnât exactly align with the ideals of your empire.â Â
Marcus reached for his cup, his hand brushing briefly, almost imperceptibly, against the edge of yours. âYouâre right,â he said finally, his tone unreadable. Â
Your gaze snapped to his, surprised. âI am?â Â
âYou donât align with the empire,â he continued, taking a slow sip of the wine. âYou stand above it. You see its flaws and still choose to fight for whatâs right, even when itâs dangerous. Even when it puts you at risk.â Â
The words struck something deep within you, leaving you momentarily at a loss. You hadnât expected thatâhis understanding, his admiration. Â
âAnd you donât find that... infuriating?â you asked, trying to mask the tremor in your voice with a wry smile. Â
âInfuriating?â he echoed, setting the cup down. âNo.â His gaze held yours, steady and unyielding. âItâs extraordinary.â Â
A sudden heat rushed to your cheeks, and you turned your attention to the fire crackling softly in the hearth. âYouâre far too kind, General.â Â
âMarcus,â he corrected gently, leaning forward. Â
âMarcus,â you repeated, the name tasting unfamiliar on your tongue, though not unpleasant. Â
He smiled faintly, as if satisfied. âAnd Iâm not being kindâIâm being honest. Too few in this city have the courage to act as you do. Even fewer have the heart.â Â
You looked back at him, searching his face for any trace of insincerity and finding none. The man before you wasnât the untouchable war hero paraded through Romeâs streets. He was something quieter, something deeper. Â
âAnd what about you?â you asked softly. âArenât you tired of all this? The battles, the politics, the endless expectations?â Â
His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his features. âMore than you could ever know.â Â
The quiet confession hung between you, delicate and heavy all at once. Â
âThen why not walk away?â you pressed, your voice barely above a whisper. Â
He gave a low, humorless laugh, running a hand through his curly hair. âAnd go where? Rome would never let me go, even if I wanted to. AndâŠâ He hesitated, his gaze flicking briefly to you before settling on the fire. âThere are reasons to stay.â Â
Your breath caught at the implication, but you forced yourself to keep your tone light. âDuty, I suppose?â Â
His eyes met yours again, darker now, more intense. âSomething like that.â Â
The weight of his words pressed against your chest, and you found yourself wondering if he could hear the sudden quickening of your heart. Â
âIâm not sure I understand you, Marcus,â you said quietly, the teasing edge gone from your voice. Â
âGood,â he replied, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. âIâd hate to be predictable.â Â
You couldnât help but smile at that, shaking your head as you finally took a sip of your wine. âYouâre certainly not that.â Â
The room fell into a companionable silence, the crackling of the fire and the distant chirping of crickets filling the space. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the weight of the world seemed to lift, if only slightly. Â
âThank you,â you said after a while, your voice soft but sincere. Â
He tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. âFor what?â Â
âFor coming,â you replied, meeting his gaze. âFor⊠for seeing me. Not just tonight, butââ You hesitated, searching for the right words. âFor seeing me as more than what Rome would make me.â Â
His expression softened, and for a moment, the guardedness in his eyes melted away, replaced by something unspoken but undeniable. âItâs impossible not to.â Â
The words wrapped around your heart, and for a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe them. Â
âAt times, I wish you would abandon all of this,â you said softly, your voice trembling with honesty. âThe wars. The blood. The service to men who deserve none of it.â Â
Marcusâs jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching before he answered. âIâve made my choice,â he said, his tone resolute, but there was a flicker of weariness in his eyes. âI can live with it. But my patience with them is at an end.â Â
You glanced toward the far corner of the room, where Leta, the ever-watchful servant, lingered. Offering her a kind smile, you said, âLeta, you may go to your quarters now. Weâll need nothing more this evening.â Â
Leta hesitated, her gaze flickering between the two of you, but at your gentle nod, she smiled and curtsied, before slipping out, leaving the room steeped in a quiet intimacy. Â
Marcus exhaled deeply, as if the act of speaking had been weighing on him. He set his cup down on the nearby table across from you, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as though bearing the weight of Rome itself. âTo hear wives and mothers mourning their dead on that beach of NumidiaâŠâ His voice was low, rough with emotion. He scoffed bitterly and ran a hand through his hair. âNo more. I will not waste another generation of young men for their vanity. If I fight another campaignâŠâ His gaze hardened, a fire igniting in his eyes. âIt must be to depose them.â
Your breath hitched at the words. âYouâre telling me this⊠why?â you asked carefully. âWeâve met only briefly. Why would you trust me with something so dangerous?â Â
He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his intense gaze locking onto yours. âAm I wrong to assume that Senator Gracchus and Lucilla have been whispering thoughts not unlike my own? That Rome deserves better than two tyrants playing at being gods?â Â
You hesitated, your lips quirking slightly to the side as you considered your answer. Finally, you gave him a small nod. âYouâre not wrong. The whispers grow louder with each passing day.â Â
For a moment, the room was silent save for the crackle of the fire in the hearth. You licked your lips nervously and took a steadying breath. Meeting his eyes, you asked, âWhen will your troops arrive?â Â
âTheyâll land in Ostia in ten days,â he replied, his voice low and firm. Â
You nodded, your mind already calculating the implications. âHow many will be loyal to you? To you alone?â Â
âAll of them,â he said without hesitation. âMany of them owe their lives to you, as Iâve heard it. Your words of wisdom, your care in the campsâthey remember. Soldiers donât forget kindness, especially in a world so devoid of it.â Â
Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you pressed on. âThe emperors have lost the peopleâs support,â you said, your voice heavy with conviction. âThe citizens are weary of their madness, their tyranny. What is the dream of Rome if our people are not free?â Â
Marcus let out a long sigh, the weight of the truth settling over him. âA dream deferred,â he murmured. âBut not lost. Not yet.â Â
The silence that followed was charged, the enormity of what lay ahead pressing upon both of you. You searched his face, seeing the resolute determination of a soldier but also the quiet yearning of a man who had seen too much, endured too much. Â
âAnd what of you?â he asked, his voice softer now. âIf the tide turns, if the gods will it⊠what would your dream of Rome be?â Â
You hesitated, the question catching you off guard. âA Rome where compassion isnât a weakness. Where the people, not the emperors, hold the power. A Rome where no child grows up in fear of a tyrantâs whim.â Â
His gaze softened, and for a moment, the hardened lines of his face eased. âThatâs a dream worth fighting for,â he said quietly. Â
You gave him a small, tentative smile. âAnd worth surviving for.â Â
The words lingered in the air between you, a shared understanding forming in the flickering light. Neither of you dared to say it outright, but the unspoken promise was clear: whatever lay ahead, you would not face it alone. Â
#marcus acacius x reader#marcus acacius x y/n#marcus acacius x you#general marcus acacius#marcus acacius#marcus acacius smut#marcus acacias x reader#marcus acacius x f!reader#marcus acacius x female reader#marcus acacius x female!reader#gladiator 2#gladiator ii#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#marcus acacius x reader masterlist#marcus acacius rewrite#gladiator ii rewrite#gladiator ll#gladiator movie#gladiator ii fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller x reader
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Meet my interpretation of the previous Golden Guard, Credence
Credence was created at age 18 and made Golden Guard at 22 where he picked up a talent for abominations and Illusions. Basically anything flashy. Rather than being isolated or directly abused by Belos, Belos put Credence on a pedestal and made sure coven members below the ranks would listen to him while also making frequent threats towards him in regards of his image. Credence was made to feel he had to be constantly making a show, proving that heâs not powerless.
Credence is a bit of a germaphobe, values personal grooming and image. He always tryâs to present himself perfect but heâs a bit unprofessional. In short heâs a little shit.
To his knowledge, he has no family relation to Belos but rather a young adult who had passed the coven trails and gotten to terrible accident where wild witches attacked civilians who he heroically saved. That Belos saw his heart as pure and took him in despite his amnesia and lack in magic. (I like to think Belos raised his Golden Guards differently as tests) Where he was trained to become the Golden Guard, purest of them all.
He a bit of the âidealâ type in regards of being Golden Guard, which is where such a harsh standard was set on Hunter.
He differs from Caleb due to having a straight nose and more narrow eyes as opposed to and aquiline nose and rounder/droopy eyes. His personality also differs greatly, he acts a bit like a nicer Adrian , if Adrian was a good person. Can come off as mean or arrogant but in reality he just likes putting on a show.
Despite being Darius mentor, they are actually close in age. Credence was 23 he met Darius who was 22. Darius had been trying to climb the ranks in the Abomination coven when Credence stepped in a decided to take him under his wing. Credence was fascinated at the research Darius doing on merging flesh with abomination matter. They soon become good friends with light pining.
He revealed his face to Darius when he was 25, 3 years into their friendship.
The mentor title comes from the fact that Credence was essentially the one who advocated for Darius and taught him more combat oriented ways on abomination magic to fit in better in the Emperorâs coven. The whole mentor, student ting became a bit of a joke for them and way to fondly view each other.
Credence begins gathering data and information to go against the Emperor at age 26 due to Belos saying some stuff that contradicted the Titans will. Credence bagan questioning before finding some dirt on Belos which resulted in a confrontation.
He went âmissingâ when he was 30 years old and then a two year old appeared. He was one of the longer lasting Golden Guards. He would have loved Hunter. Darius was 29 and regrets never admitting his love.
I head canon within the empireâs 50 years of existence, there was a total of 9 castle Golden Guards. Credence for 8 years and Hunter for 3 years.
I definitely have an another Golden Guard planned out to make, one before Credence with some stuff involving Lilith.
Also go help the timeline make sense, Darius and Eda are 43, Lilith 44 by the time Luz shows up.
Iâve been wanting to create some Grimwalkers lately and Iâm glad my ideas are coming together.
#my art#toh#the owl house#previous golden guard#golden guard toh#golden guard#darius toh#toh darius#darius deamonne#digital art#the owl house golden guard
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Sheets
megumi fushiguro x fem-reader
p.1
p.2 â ( âžâžê© áŻ
ê©âžâž;) p.3
p.2
AN: Thank you for reading part 2! Again each of these will be around 3k in length. Enjoy!
warnings: i'm putting these here for future chapters too, and ill sprinkle some in as I go. I want to make it clear, there is no underage sex, but later on there will be some more raunchy shit. this is somewhat non-canon compliant-make it up as I go
-ok for the real warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, mommy kinks, mommy issues, arranged marriages, forced marriages, angst, eventual smut, clan politics, age gap (5 years from meg, and a little over 10 with toji), toji aint the best dad, mentions of child abuse, slowww build.
Another
Cleaning had always been second nature to you, a skill drilled into you by your clan as a symbol of discipline and control.
The ways of a proper young lady.
Back then, it had been another way to meet their rigid standards, but now, in Tojiâs apartment, it served a different purpose. You werenât trying to meet anyoneâs expectations. It felt more like you were creating a space that felt livable, even comforting. As you scrubbed and tidied, echoes of your clanâs demands lingered in your mind.
Megumi stayed holed up in his room, avoiding you, though you suspected it wasnât out of rudeness. Maybe he was still figuring you out, testing the waters before deciding how to interact. You couldn't blame him. This was all new and strange for both of you.
As you scrubbed the counters and sorted through laundry, you tried to keep yourself busy, hoping to quiet the restless hum of your thoughts. The spiraling.
But the silence of the apartment only amplified them, leaving you with little to do but reflect.
You thought long and hard about your next moveâabout what you wanted to do and what you were willing to endure. You hadnât expected to make it this far, away from the suffocating grip of your clan, away from the ways theyâd meticulously instilled into you. This already felt like a step up.Â
No one was yelling. No one was crying. And most importantly, no one was punishing you for merely existing. And for once, you could breathe.Â
But could you settle here? Could you turn this into a real home? The thought carried a weight you hadnât anticipated, especially when you considered who you were married to.
Toji Fushiguro.
The infamous thirty-something gambler whose reputation preceded him. His name carried weightânone of it good. Youâd only heard whispers about him before, rumors about the "Sorcerer Killer" who couldnât see curses but had carved a place for himself in a world that didnât want him. The name he was making for himself wasnât the kind anyone would aspire to have. And now, he was your husband. Could he truly be better than what youâd left behind?
Marriage had never been a simple thing for people like you. It was a transaction, a tool for power and alliances, not a partnership. You'd settled your thoughts with that. But you couldnât be sure what kind of man Toji would turn out to be. So far, he was an enigmaâevasive, blunt, and not exactly brimming with warmth.
When you first met Toji, youâd been terrified.
His voice, gruff and laced with irritation, felt like a warning in itself, and his towering, muscular frame only added to the daunting image. You hadnât known what to expect from himâyour mind raced with possibilities. Many clan marriages ended in misery. Beaten wives, suffocating restrictions, and vows that served only to bind. The unknown had loomed large that day.
Youâd been genuinely shocked when Toji had even shown up to the meeting. After all, he already had a historyâa wife before you, a notorious rebellious streak, and a reputation soaked in blood. What had happened to her? The question lingered in your mind, twisting your thoughts into a frantic swirl as you tried to piece together what kind of man he was and what exactly you might be walking into. Not that you had much of a choice.
To your relief, he left shortly after the meeting, without forcing himself on you or issuing a set of suffocating rules. But even without his demands, you already knew your place. How could you not? The weight of the clanâs expectations had been drilled into you for as long as you could remember.
Still, the questions remained.
Could you trust him? Could he truly protect you from the very people who had pushed you into this marriage? Or would he become like the others youâd seenâthe cruel, controlling men who treated their wives as tools, not partners? For now, all you could do was wait and hope.
If things got sticky, you could run. But the thought terrified you. Your clan wasnât known for letting their investments go so easily.  They had their motives, their expectations for you, and you knew better than to think theyâd let you walk away unscathed. The marriage was a tool to them, a means to an end, and the moment you stopped being useful, they wouldnât hesitate to dissolve it.
The questions would start soon if you didnât make an appearance at the estate for a âvisit.â Youâd have to come up with something to keep them satisfied, a way to buy yourself more time. But would it be enough? You werenât about to stoop to spying, but maybe if you offered them the bare minimum, it could hold them off. Still, you knew the risk. The moment they decided you werenât fulfilling your purpose, theyâd drag you back.
Back to the suffocating walls of their estate. Back to the life youâd fought so hard to escape. Back to another arranged marriageâthis time, likely to someone far worse. Someone who wouldnât tolerate even a shred of independence. The thought was unbearable, and yet, the fear of that possibility clung to you like a shadow, refusing to let go.
You had no illusions about what they were capable of. Theyâd find you. Theyâd make an example of you. Youâd seen it happen beforeâto women who had dared to defy their place, who had tried to escape. The consequences were always swift, brutal, and served as a warning to others.
The only thing keeping you from that fate was this house.
Toji.
For all his flaws, for all the uncertainty that surrounded him, Toji was the barrier between you and the life you so desperately wanted to escape. The clan couldnât touch you hereânot while you were under his roof. His name and infamous reputation were enough to keep them at bay for now. But what about when he left the clan for good? Youâd heard it whispered countless timesâhow heâd distanced himself, how he was already one step out the door.
So why had he even agreed to this marriage? It didnât serve him. If anything, it seemed like another chain, another tie heâd likely resent. What had convinced him to take on a responsibility that did him no favors?
The thought nagged at you as you clung to the fragile sense of safety he unknowingly provided. As much as you despised the precariousness of your situation, you couldnât ignore that he was the only thing keeping the clanâs shadow from falling over you entirely.
For now, you had to play the game carefully. Toji was unpredictable, but at least he wasnât actively cruel. Youâd take your chances with him over returning to the hell youâd left behind.
Still, he hadnât returned, yet. When would he come home? Sure it'd only been a day, but...
Would he even explain what this arrangement meant for you both, or just leave you to figure it out on your own? Would he have a list of rules like your clan house? Would you have expectations to sleep with him? You let out a sigh, feeling the weight of uncertainty press heavier on your shoulders. The hours were dragging.Â
When lunchtime rolled around, you prepared food for both yourself and Megumi. Doubling the portions, you were glad he was starting to warm up to you, even if only slightly. Knocking softly on his door, you waited for a moment before it creaked open.
Megumi stood there, his expression unreadable as usual, but he took the plate with a small nod. âThanks,â he muttered before retreating back into his room, the door closing firmly behind him.
So, you ate alone.
It wasnât the solitude that stung the mostâit was the familiarity of it. Sitting at the quiet table, your thoughts drifted to the countless meals youâd eaten alone back at the clan house. Sure this home was better than your previous, yet the echoes of those days crept back in, uninvited, and settled heavily in your chest. Youâd thought leaving that life behind would make things different, that here, in this little apartment, you could find something resembling peace.
But for now, the silence was deafening.
You reminded yourself to remember that this was better and you needed to be patient. Megumi wasnât cruel or rudeâjust guarded. He was still so young, still figuring out his place in all of this. And maybe, you thought, you needed to adjust to him just as much as he needed to adjust to you.
So, you cleared your plate, brushed off the dull ache settling in your chest, and told yourself that this was temporary. It was just a matter of time.
Later in the day, you decided to step out for groceries. The apartment was practically empty, the fridge holding little more than condiments and a few questionable leftovers. You couldnât fathom how Toji and Megumi had been surviving off such meager scraps. Â Youâd noticed the state of things your first day there, picking up a few essentials just to scrape by. But today, you decided it was time to stock up properly.
Standing by the front door, you hesitated for a moment, glancing toward Megumiâs room. A small part of you debated whether to ask him to come along. It might have been nice to have the company, and perhaps the outing could bridge some of the growing gap between you. But you quickly pushed the thought aside.
He was just a kid, and this wasnât his responsibility. It was yours. You were the one trying to build a home here, the one who had stepped into this precarious role.
With a quiet sigh, you grabbed your shopping list and headed out the door. It wasnât a long walk to the nearby market, but as you made your way down the street, a faint unease crept over you. You couldnât help but think back to your clan and their constant monitoring.
By the time you returned, your arms were weighed down with bags. Maybe youâd gotten carried away, but everything seemed so necessary. Stumbling through the front door, you dumped the bags onto the counter with a relieved sigh.
Megumi peeked out from the doorway, alerted by the sound. âYouâre back?â
âYeah,â you said, turning slightly to smile at him, still catching your breath. âGot some food for tonight.â
He frowned, his gaze shifting to the hefty bags on the counter.
âDidja walk all this back yourself?â
âMhmm,â you replied with a small hum, stretching your back before reaching to start putting things away.
Before you could even grab the first item, Megumi stepped into the kitchen, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he gently nudged you aside. âGo rest. Iâll put it âway,â he muttered, his voice low and rough around the edges, but without any real bite.
You blinked at him, caught off guard by the unexpected offer, but decided not to argue. Instead, you took a seat at the kitchen table, watching him move around the room. His movements were deliberate and efficient as he pulled items from the bags. He inspected each one carefully, as though weighing its importance before putting it into its proper place.
For a moment, you forgot the weight of everything else and simply watched. Megumi, for all his prickliness, had his own way of showing appreciationâeven if he didnât say it out loud. It was hard not to notice how much care he put into something so simple. He still reminded you of a grumpy old catâaloof, guarded, but with moments of surprising thoughtfulness. There was something endearing about it, about him. A small giggle escaping you as the thought crossed your mind.
Megumi glanced over his shoulder, his sharp eyes narrowing in suspicion. âWhatâs so funny?â he asked, his tone flat, though the faint red at the tips of his ears betrayed his irritation.
âNothing,â you replied with a light chuckle, a small smile playing on your lips. âJust thinking about how teenagers can be so stubborn sometimes.â
âStubborn?â he repeated, his tone edged with skepticism. âIâm not stubborn. Youâre acting like Iâm some little kid or something.â
The amused smile tugging at your lips only grew as you tilted your head at him. âWell, arenât you? Just a little bit, maybe?â
His scowl deepened, and the flush on his cheeks darkened, the faint hint of embarrassment making him look even more endearing. âIâm not a kid. Iâm almost fourteen,â he muttered, his voice firm, though it teetered dangerously close to a pout.
You chuckled, unable to resist teasing him just a bit more. He was too cute when he got ruffled. âFourteen, huh? Practically a grown-up. My bad.â
Megumiâs gaze darted away briefly before snapping back to you, his tone quieter but still holding a note of defiance. âYouâre not that much older than me. Youâre what? Sixteen?â
His words startled a laugh out of you, and you shook your head, unable to hide your amusement. âSixteen? Try eighteen, Megumi. Iâm officially an adult, thank you very much.â
His eyes widened slightly at the revelation before narrowing again, as if processing the information. âEighteen?â he muttered under his breath, his skepticism clear. âYou donât look eighteen.â
Feigning offense, you straightened your posture. âWell, I am,â you said with mock indignation. âAnd as the adult here, I think I get to call you a kid.â
Megumi huffed, crossing his arms as the faint pink tint spread to his ears. âYou donât act like an adult,â he mumbled, quieter this time. âYouâre more like a bossy older sister.â
That made you grin even wider. Was that supposed to be an insult? Because it only made him sound more adorable. âBossy older sister, huh? I think Iâll take that as a compliment.â
He avoided your gaze, pretending to focus on folding one of the empty grocery bags. âTake it however you want,â he muttered, his tone clipped, though the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his amusement.
âWell, thanks, I guess,â you said playfully. âBut Iâm still older than you, and that makes you the kid, like it or not.â
Megumi frowned but didnât argue further. Instead, he busied himself with the counter, his lips pressed into a firm line. âIâm not a kid,â he mumbled again, though the conviction in his voice had softened.
You raised your hands in mock surrender, your tone kind and teasing. âAlright, alright. Youâre not a kid. Youâre a very mature almost-fourteen-year-old. Better?â
He didnât respond right away, but the faint blush lingering on his cheeks gave him away. Turning his attention back to the counter, he muttered, âWhatever,â though the twitch at the corner of his mouth told you he wasnât entirely annoyed.
You leaned back in your chair, watching him with a mix of fondness and curiosity. Megumi had a way of endearing himself without even realizing it. His insistence on not being treated like a kid, the way he tried to act older than he wasâit was all so very⊠Megumi-esque. And you hadn't even know the kid for long. Not even a day.
âYou know,â you said gently, breaking the silence, âyou donât have to rush to grow up so fast. Fourteenâor almost fourteenâis a good age to just⊠be.â
Megumi glanced at you, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if to challenge your words, but there was no real bite in his expression. âIâm not rushing anything,â he said after a pause, his tone quieter, more thoughtful. âI just donât want to be treated like some helpless kid.â
Now that got your attention. You tilted your head, your smile softening. âI donât think youâre helpless, Megumi. Not at all. I just think itâs okay to let people care about you sometimes. It doesnât make you less grown-up.â
He didnât reply, his gaze flickering back to the counter, but you could see the wheels turning in his head. And then there was the way he lingered. The groceries were already put away, yet he didnât leave. He didnât know why he stayed. Maybe he didnât want to admit it. But his actions spoke louder than words ever could: maybe, just maybe, he didnât mind you being there after all. Psycho-ex of his dads or otherwise.
While making dinner, Megumi hovered close to your elbows, his dark eyes following your every movement with quiet intensity. He didnât say a word, but his focus was unwavering, soaking in every detail. Your cooking so far had been phenomenal. Enough to make the kid jealous. He wanted to learn, that much was clearâwanted to memorize the steps, the measurements, the little techniques you used. You had a sneaking suspicion it wasnât just curiosity.Â
His silence didnât bother you. If anything, it gave you the perfect opportunity to chatter away, filling the room with a one-sided conversation that you hoped wasnât entirely unwelcome. You explained every step meticulously, breaking it down like a cooking show. Megumi didnât interrupt or huff at you. Instead, he absorbed it all like a sponge, his head tilting slightly when you mentioned something new.
âToji must not be much of a cook,â you remarked at one point, glancing at him with a teasing smile. His lips twitched upward for the briefest moment, a ghost of a smile that made your chest tighten with warmth. Even when you explained the most basic things, like how to dice an onion properly, Megumi listened as though it were the most important lecture of his life.
The thought made you pause for a moment. It made senseâMegumi was still young, and cooking had always been considered a womanâs role in traditional clan life. And considering Tojiâs seemingly chaotic lifestyle and the lack of a maternal figure, it was no wonder this felt new to him.
Still, the conversation flowed a little easier that evening. Each fleeting moment of ease melted your heart a little more. You were already developing a soft spot for the kid, despite his grumpy attitude. That much was obvious. You hadnât had many interactions with children back at the clan estateâeverything there had been too rigid, too suffocating for anything resembling normal relationships. So this, the tentative beginnings of friendship, felt⊠nice.
But even in those moments, there was still a frigid layer of distance he maintain between you twoâa protective barrier he refused to let you pass. Distrusting, yes, but not beyond reach. He was still trying to figure you out, sizing you up, before deciding whether you were even worth the effort of trusting.
Why the hell was this kid so frosty? Was it Toji? The absence of a mother? Or something else entirely? You werenât sure, but the guarded way Megumi carried himselfâthe abrasiveness, the defensive huffinessâstirred something in you.
Youâd seen plenty of kids like him back in the clan house. Some were cold and indifferent, their walls impenetrable. Others carried arrogance like armor, wielding it to hide their insecurities. But the ones who stayed with youâthe ones who truly stuck in your memoryâwere those too weak to defend themselves, cast aside for showing too much emotion. Beaten into shape. Megumi wasnât like that, obviously. But the thought of him enduring anything similar made you feel...protective.
When you finally sat down to eat, the food turned out fantastic. Megumi, ever stoic, simply nodded in approval as he ate, but you caught the way his chopsticks moved a little faster than usual, and you couldnât help but feel a surge of pride.
âNot bad, right?â you teased lightly, hoping to draw a reaction from him.
His eyes flicked up to meet yours for a fleeting second before he mumbled, âItâs good.â Another almost-smile.
It was your second day in and you were starting to feel like this wasn't such a bad arrangement.
p.3?
AN: Thank you for reading! Please reblog and like if you enjoy this series!
#yandere#dead dove do not eat#manipulative#male yandere#possesive yandere#yandere boy#yandere smut#slow burn#slow build#jjk megumi#mentally fucked#megumi x yn#yandere megumi#megumi fushiguro#megumi x reader#jjk x you#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk#possessive#possesive love#obsessive love#obsessive yandere#arranged marriage#talks of arranged marriage#angst#clan life#zenin clan#non canon#fluff
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Just a random thought I had: I would really like to see Carmilla and Alastor interact more in the future seasons. I don't think people realize how weird it is that Carmilla put Alastor on the Board of Overlords and how interesting their business dynamic could be. Carmilla, lady of order and professionalism...Put ALASTOR in a meeting room. I get inviting him to join because respect (and probable fear of this mysterious guy who has been killing your associates deciding to kill YOU out of disrespect), but...After you realize he doesn't take anything about being an Overlord that serious why do you keep inviting him??? He'll keep coming because he might get entertainment and useful info out of it but what does Carmilla get out of him being there?
My best idea is that maybe he kinda works as a fail-safe in case somebody tries to start a physical fight or something. Alastor clearly enjoys any excuse to kill and eat people so that could work for that. And everyone in that room knows he's capable of killing them but doesn't. So they might use that evidence as to why they should respect the rules of the meeting and Carmilla, because the Radio Demon respects it.
But the last part is 90% a bluff. Alastor doesn't respect nor care about the board of Overlords whatsoever. He might have mild respect for Carmilla, because he seems to like women more than men and atleast pretends to respect her position among the overlords. But they probably dislike interacting with each other. Carmilla has to deal with him not taking anything she cares about when it comes to their profession and title seriously, his enjoyment of chaos probably getting in the way of their meeting occasionally (She probably saw or atleast later on heard from Zestial about Alastor bringing an Egg boi to the meeting), and the biggest issue for her: Deal with a person who constantly has or had KILLED YOUR ASSOCIATES and broadcasts it. Add to the fact that Alastor is probably a bit hard to predict because he can switch from goofy and charismatic radio show host to The sadistic and calculating Radio Demon very quickly.
On Alastor's side: Here's a person who thinks they're wiser than him and believes there should be order to owning souls and territory when all he seems to care about is doing what HE wants and HIS version of control on things. She's passive aggressive or atleast snarky to him as retaliation for his unprofessionalism and to keep his ego in his check. And overall, Alastor probably sees her as a stick in the mud trying to ruin his sadistic fun.
But they still respect each other while disliking each other (Kinda like how you might have a coworker who gets his work done and is useful to the group...But whose personality you can't stand) . Carmilla probably respects Alastor's power and his role in keeping the Overlords in check (I don't think she would be able to make an Board of Overlords if there were so many of them and some of them might've wanted to kill her for trying to "boss them around"). Alastor probably respects how much of a smart professional she is, her ability to lead and try to control the group she made, and her being a dutiful mother (Remember Al is canonically a mama's boy and according to old canon feels like a surrogate father or atleast responsible for Niffty in a similar way despite her age). So yeah, I need to see them interact more. I want to see their first interaction (How did Carmilla react to finding out the mysterious voice on the radio was some red deer guy who makes cannibal puns?). Has Carmilla ever tried to subtly suggest certain Overlords Alastor should target next? Would Alastor hear her out or just ignore it?
Anyways, that's my thought about it. Both of them are now kinda allies to the hotel (specifically Vaggie) so it would be nice to see them interact more.
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That preview for wwww has got me so excited aaaaaaaaa i want to know more i cant wait- is there anything you could talk about with Leo and Donnie that isn't spoilers??
oh yeah! here are some backstory details about them that are mostly silly, just for the fun of it
im personally just going with the idea that splinter named them early for simplicity's sake, the names are the same as canon.
draxum took a little too long to see them as children instead of weapons, which is an influence on their behavior. he's always treated them with this adult-like seriousness that was questionable when they're younger, but it makes them INFURIATED when people talk down to them or treat them like children as teenagers.
this will influence their dynamics with raph greatly.
donnie was the stickler/tattletale between the two, but to call leo the troublemaker would be an UNDERSTATEMENT. huginn and muninn literally could not take care of him in draxum's absence because he would go full fucking home alone on them. with donnie at his side they would make Death Traps
this is actually how they ended up meeting big mama. draxum went to a meeting with her and had to bring leo along because he wouldn't behave, and donnie tagged along because leo threw a screeching fit when draxum said they were going to leave him behind and would not stop until he gave in, they were like 6. big mama adopted them immediately.
leo calls her auntie by her request and learned a lot of his tactics from her. i am under the opinion that she would be a HORRIBLE mother but she's a wonderful aunt you only see occasionally. she spoils them rotten and likes them way more than draxum, that bad bad man. they're too good for him! (THEY ARE MENACES)
if they learned about what she did to splinter they wouldn't even be surprised. leo would be impressed, really
they were pretty well-trained in combat from an early age, although they slipped up a lot. leo has stabbed donnie several times, mostly on accident but probably on purpose at least once. they are extremely casual about this and treat it like a funny joke to the horror of their family
they are also utterly inseparable. they dont keep anything from each other ever and have an insane amount of separation anxiety and codependence going on. they also try to kill each other on a regular basis /hj
since draxum is head of security in the hidden city, they've done some odd jobs before as training and know their way around it like little nepo babies!!!!
speaking of, the fact that theyre technically rich means i can make both of them fashionistas and annoying as fuck about it. theyre so intense about the outfits.
S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N already exists in a way that went down very similar to smart lair lmao. leo reprogrammed him because he was being annoying, and then broke him when he was being annoying again despite the fact that it's literally his fault. S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N continues to get broken a lot and donnie just rebuilds him.
he thinks its mildly annoying how much leo dislikes him, because he's "closer to S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N's father than [he is]." like man the fuck up and pay child support you baby.
draxum is very indulgent in donnie's hobbies and investment in building despite his limited knowledge of human technology, honestly more than splinter is in canon. although he is secretly a little scared of him and what he's capable of.
donnie was given a bo staff because it was the most non-lethal option draxum could think of
draxum regrets giving leo a sword a lot
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hsr lore noob here! would you mind telling about war period mikhail/misha? did he know gopher wood and the rest old guard of penacony at the time yet or no?
hi! so the thing about this is that the entire narrative we know is based off of two parts:
The event Clockie: Dreamjoy Memoir is a fictionalized version of Mikhail's account of his life. Because of this, I believe some of it is at least a little tainted by Mikhail's own views.*
The story quest Then Wake to Weep holds the few pieces of Mikhail's story which are actually in plain text.
*Despite being generally disliked by Literally Everyone Else, Wood is described twice as kind, once by Mikhail and once by Sunday, who are both similarly poor at reading bad intentions, although Sunday seems to have mostly trained this out of himself as he aged.
Unfortunately, this means that the answer to a lot of when/how questions will be "lol, idk" so quite a lot of this is conjecture.
Now that that's out of the way, here's a short timeline of what happened leading up to it, and then I'll point out where I sort of fudged details so that all my little guys could be together at once.
Black is "canon", purple is assumptions.
Mikhail decides to embark on the Express. Although he starts out doing menial work, which probably becomes the basis of the memoria creature called Misha, his talent for machinery is quickly picked up by Falcon Amundsen, who mentors him in the area of repairing the Express. Amundsen later dies on a Trailblazing expedition.
At some point afterward, the Express recieves a call from the IPC to come calm rioters on Penacony. When they arrive, they find out that the "rioting" was a prison break and subsequent war, triggered by the dormant Stellaron responding to the prisoners' wish to be freed and stay in their sweet dream. This is the root of the Dreamscape.
During their initial expedition into Penacony, they meet the individual named Hanunue, who is a werewolf from another planet in the Asdana star system but more importantly tries to blow them up.
After the situation calms, the Express crew (which includes Razalina and Tiernan and a few others (?)) decides that they should stay and help free the IPC's prisoners.
This is the period of time which most of my wartime Mikhail is from. Wood comes later after the war is, if not finished, at least significantly calmed on the surface â the IPC has accepted that it would be a waste of resources to continue trying to take back the planet, so although they are a quiet threat looking for any weak openings, they are mostly placid for the time being.
The problem with this continuity is that I ignored it. Wood gets to appear much earlier, although in much the same way as before: a convenient appearance to help when he is needed and to bother everyone when he is not. He doesn't fight openly as a matter of principle, considering himself removed from the conflict, although he could end it anytime if he so chose. Anything he does is not out of kindness but feeling good about himself, so since the fastest ending to the war would mean killing, he just sort of sits around and bothers people. He is there for religious matters and to solve an occasional problem and that's it.
I could probably handwave about them for pages longer. If I somehow missed something or you have other questions please ask đ«Ą im a bit slow with askbox but i will try to get to them eventually
#talking#possibly edit to yap less in the morning. but i have a lot to say so..#mikhail#old penacony#gopher wood#hsr
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hello apple. the common folk ask for your fervent musings on Naomi Misora!!
:3c oh goodness, naomi thoughts huh⊠let's make a list for this one:
i will forever Love the LABB murder novel for expanding naomi's characterization and backstory, it is forever So tragic that she died so quickly in the series. her back and forth with both L and beyond is fantastic in that book, and the additional lore set up about all those characters really adds to the canon of the series in an interesting way.
i knowwwww people (justifiably) hate on raye for all the "You'll be happy when you don't have to be an intelligent woman and can just be a Mother :)" bullshit, but naomi as a kind of mother figure is genuinely a notable aspect of her characterization and i kinda wanna Talk about it. particularly in conjunction with that one image of her in the anime opening where she is the stand in for mary holding jesus like in the pietĂ and also the fact that LABB murder canon sets up the idea that she dropped out of the FBI due to her inability to shoot a child (?? should double-check this but i'm near Certain). she often comes across as quite harsh, and for good reason since she's quite Brusque with the people we see her interacting with the most (light, beyond, L, even raye to some degree), but there's an intriguing Softness to her also that is a big part of what makes her an interesting character to me. it's the Contrast of it all, y'know.
(and yes, some of this may be included purely bc ohba is a sexist writer and doesn't know how to see women as anything other than "fuck object" or "mommy." even with that in mind, i still think this is a point genuinely worth consideration... though i'm not gonna forget that either askldfjsldkf)
naomi and matsuda both are kinda weird actually in that i always Struggle to really place their ages. they both just come across as so Young, despite the fact that they're older than even L by a couple years. i suppose both of them are also often quite underestimated by the people around them, which perhaps contributes to them coming across so green.
speaking of... it seems like quite notable, if somewhat under-utilized lore that naomi was a japanese woman working in the american FBI. again, LABB murders goes into this a Bit, what with naomi struggling to connect with her (presumably largely white, male) coworkers. the fact that her true first name is written entirely in katakana (usually used for foreign words/names) too... i'm assuming she's a first generation immigrant, since they're visiting her parents in japan? but it does give her that pulled-between-cultures kinda feel. i find it quite relatable, actually, as an asian american myself.
there might be an interesting connection there too with regards to how that might influence the ways in which her and raye's relationship functions. i suppose we can't really assume raye's background or race in too extensive detail, particularly since he is presumably speaking fluent japanese throughout the series (???), but i also can't help but see how the "american man with a non-japanese name in a relationship with a japanese woman" might be of note in terms of the particular kinds of sexist assumptions/views he exerts onto her (or even that she applies to herself...)
i've said this before, but i think it's a combination of both that and her more Maternal tendencies that gets her so on board with both L and light, two characters who are both decently younger than her and Take Her Seriously. the fact that she explicitly states seeing L in light, and that she is one of the few characters, really the only person outside of the japanese task force, to actually meet L in person is also. fascinating.
speaking more on the FBI though, i can't help but wonder about what naomi's motivations were for joining the FBI in the first place. or even what her motivations were for leaving japan at all, if she really was the first in her family to immigrate. clearly the american dream did Not live entirely up to expectations, from what we can see of how hard she was putting all her stock into this marriage with raye... but i also desperately wonder what she was Going Through post-beyond incarceration/L-meeting and pre-KIRA. that seems like a particularly juicy time period fanfic-wise, especially considering how beyond himself dies... sigh. onto the wip list.
actually. considering both birthday massacre and raye, it's kinda fucking funny to consider the fact that light killed both of naomi's main love interests. even L, if you go for that. not to mention naomi herself. RIP girl, she must've been frothing at the fucking mouth in that grave putting all the pieces together. first person to kick light's ass in the nothingness afterlife fr.
anyways, in conclusion: naomi fucks hard, best girl, desperately underrated character in the series that i will love forever. there's probably more that i could add to this but my brain is all blissed out on thanksgiving food so ig that's it for now. hell yeah naomiđ
#death note#astronaut rambles#naomi misora#ask#ehhehehe thank you for the ask anon!!#been kinda Dead lately due to finals (and fic writing tbh screams) so asks like this are greatly appreciated#gets me writing n thinking about Lore again which i always adore yaaayy#:))
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glad to see on Twitter of all places that i'm not the only one that dislikes frans ( frisk x sans, for the uninitiated ). it's always been weird to me and it is most definitely just selfshippers who are too cowardly to take the "i have a heterosexual crush on sans" bullet so they make the Child Protagonist take it instead
#june's undertale brainrot posts#yea i'm tagging these from now on#but anyway frans is weird. frisk is canonically a kid. sans is canonically an adult.#they canonically meet When They Are These Ages#tl;dr don't ship the adult big bro boneman with the always tiny sometimes strangely flirty child
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Happy new year besties, here's modern au Loid with baby/toddler Anya
#maybe next i'll do yor and baby anya#debating whether this is an au where loid and yor only meet when anya is at her canon age or if they raise/adopt her as a baby together#spy x family#sxf art#my art#art#deonideattart#loid forger#anya forger#spy x family fanart#spy x family art#fanart#artists on tumblr#if the quality looks down click for better quality
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Odysseus with his head in his wife's lap, happily not paying attention to anything, humming one of athenas song and carving something
Some random guy: your majesty----
Odysseus: not bothering to sit up: whatever my wife decided is fine.
#the odyssey#epic the musical#Odysseus#Penelope#Odypen#Post-canon my beloved#Odysseus tried to hold court exactly one time before he 1. Realized he's very out of date with everything and#2. Remembered that these meetings sucked so much#Odysseus then quickly climbed into his wife's lap and was like penelopes been ruling for 20 years she's got this#The first time someone tried to insist that it wasn't acceptable for penelope to answer ody nearly killed the guy#Nobody tried to force the issue after that#The only time odysseus sits up to contribute is to be like 'no no we can take that route now I killed the monster that lived there years ag#This is not to say he isn't listening and paying attention! He is! He's just scoping everybody's out#Noticing who's more pushy when they're trying to deal with penelope than they are with him#He's got twenty years of politics to catch up on! And he's going to be sneaky about it#Odysseus post return gaining a reputation for being uninvolved and uncaring only to pull the rug out from underneither the other person#Penelope is a okay with this for many many reasons#First off her system is one of beauty and the fact that her husband didn't spend all her hard work to take back over the second he came bac#Is rare and penelope is grateful everyday for who she married#Second she gets to show off look at how well she did odysseus look at how clever she is ody ody watch as I scam these people isn't that hot#(It is and yes of course odysseus was watching)#Penelope enjoying how odysseus lays out over her like a lazy lion#It scratches her possessive side to show him off like this and she gets to play with his hair#Telemachus attending some of these meetings to learn (tm) and spending the whole time deeply embarrassed#Odypen being đ„°đ€ rat bastards in love
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When Ra's needed an heir, Talia impregnated herself with The Detective's DNA to give him the perfect offspring. When she delived fraternal twins the boy was raised to one day take over the League and the girl was kept around so that she might one day provide the LoA with new recruits. When she came of age and learned that the only reason she was kept around was the idea of her future children, she fled. They never found her.
Years later, Duke Thomas introduces his family to his new boyfriend, Danny Fenton.
#dp x dc#dpxdc#trans danny fenton#twins au#danny and damian are twins#danny was born a girl#he ran away from the leauge and ended up with the Fentons#he was like 9 or 10 when this happened#they adopt him and he comes out as trans about age 12#the Fentons are supportive and he starts being masc presenting#then the events of dp canon happen#minus phantom planet haha never heard of it#danny ends up telling his parents about being phantom at around age 16#they accept him and do a complete 180 on their opinions about ghosts#danny moves to gotham after high school for college#where he meets duke#they hit it off immediately#duke can tell danny has some kind of abilities#which is what originally propts him to talk to danny#but he doesn't pressure him and lets him reveal them to him in his own time#meanwhile they grow closer and closer until nest thing you know they are going on their first date#danny x duke#what is their ship name again?#ghost lights#deadlight#will o wisp
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finding out ur coworker is way older than you thought and having to very quickly reorient how you talk to them
#art#traditional art#watercolour#fanart#synthv#synthesizer v#genbu#kasane teto#rikka is also here :) i think she likes to cause problems sometimes. because all the adults in her life are dweebs#and very easy to cause problems with <3#anyone else have this happen before. im older than a lot of my university peers and i always have been#because i took 5 years in highschool and my undergrad has been like 6 years and counting#(hashtag learning disability <3 ) and like thats chill to me i dont mind#but now i usually assume everyones way younger than me and i get shocked when theyre not. a buddy in some of my classes#when i first met her i absolutely and completely assumed she was like barely 19 and talked to her as such#like i dont talk down to people or anything but i do soften the way i talk a bit and give a bit extra patience with younger peers#cause yknow. i remember what it was like being 19. being 26 is WAY easier lol so i wanna give em a bit of leeway yknow#anyway a few months after meeting her i found out she was actually a year older than me and a grad student when she ended up as a TA in#another class i took. i felt so bad. we bonded tho and she didnt mind she thought it was kinda funny when i was like WAIT UR A GRAD STUDENT#i thought she was like a first or second year undergrad..............#also yeah im a 31yo teto fan. i dont mind the popular fanon that she has a separate age that makes her actually 15 and#i dont mind that more interpretations have her like that BUT for my internal canon she is a grown ass woman because i think its fun <3#she pays taxes. she goes to work parties. she can rent a car. i love it#let teto rent a car. let her rent a car.#yknow im exicted to be 31. i still got a few more years of being a 20 something which is fun. but being a 30 something sounds like it rules
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the way it kinda just dawned on me we're never seeing alistair again
#which in its own way makes sense and it's lucky we had him for all 3 games if he survived origins#i mean i wouldn't want his VA back anyway but god damn brain why is this hitting now#but also while realising this i suddenly felt petty on behalf of the zevran romancers like#there was all this speculation (for good reason!) that zevran would appear in DA4 but considering we can't choose anything about dao/da2#i imagine he just straight up won't be acknowledged at all considering we can either kill him when we meet him or when he 'betrays' you#or they're gonna turn around and say he's canonically alive. which they'll probably do with blackwall/iron bull too despite what can happen#but that's a whole thing and not the point but man i was having such a nice day for a change and this is hitting way harder than it should#i wonder if there's going to be any new info/resolution on curing the calling. man's in his 40's now and has 10 years left if he's lucky#considering griffons are back i suppose anything is possible#dragon age veilguard#alistair theirin
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silmaril-gazing, maglorath (peaceful) vs maglorath (dagor dagorath)
plus a version with the same palette on both sides
#silm#silmarillion#maglorath#is it a modern au if it's just canon that lasted until the modern era?#hes in a park bc it has a better view than his house's (read: mini-fortress) courtyard does#hes wearing the glasses bc his eyes tend to scorch people with ten thousand years of treelight#also he has a glove on his right hand bc of the silmaril burns#moreso when hes angry#becasue then its treelight and also fea-fire and that causes even worse burns#really funny how this outfit is really barely changed from his normal YT/FA one#hes just switched it out for a more modern tie and shoes#and his coat (not pictured) is either a hoodie or a suit jacket instead of a robe#but the core of the outfit is the same and the colors are pretty close too (excluding the caranthir-core Park Cryptid outfit)#this man(ellon) has worn a waistcoat for seven and a half Ages and the times have finally caught up with his fashion#he looks like he just stepped out of a interview or perhaps a business meeting. and yet the shirt waistcoat tie combo#is basically the same as his FA outfits#his YT outfits feature the longest robes (the ones w the three foot train)#his FA ones vary more depending on formality but he does have some knee length robes#fun fact: this position is quite comfortable when napping in an office chair
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sophia seeing cailan's body hanging there when they go back to ostagar, and suddenly all she can see even through the rot and the ruin is just how much he looked like alistair...... :'(
a mental image that totally will not haunt her through alistair's many years on the throne as rebellions and assassination attemps come and go. doesn't send her unhinged and unwise even a little
#I've never played back to ostagar before actually! getting some more delicious trauma for everyone#and also zev was there (affectionate)#oc: sophia amell#warden x alistair#dragon age#dragon age origins#the vibes are slightly weird in the dialogue in this dlc -- this uh. did not seem to be the relationship alistair and cailan had#such as it even was. but hey I got this angst out of it what more can I ask#I had sophia and alistair smooch on the platform place thingy where you meet him for the first time. I am a sap but I am free#what's that post about the unconquerable human spirit that's like 'despite all the horrors I am still horny' again. basically they're that#alistair is honestly The most pocket healed warrior of all time he's got two spirit healers who love him laser focused on him#at all times#(sophia switches between unleashing horrifying amounts of raw magical power on the enemy and going 'oh nooo let me see I'll fix it')#that boy is Protected. wynne and sophia glaring at you past his shoulders like 'he said no FUCKING pickles ok. last warning'#(actually probably sophia would glare at you from like. the height of his armpit; she's Short lol)#also partially why I had to change my canon b/c if alistair was left in the fade sophia would. she would quite simply end the world#long before solas had the time to. she would tear the veil to shreds to get to him. mind and circle mage restraint irretrievably lost#her greatest fear is becoming unmoored (which in many ways also means losing alistair) and everyone else should be afraid of that too#I do like how this playthrough is shaking out tho it feels like a more grown-up version of the story I told with them originally#more complicated and acknowledging the other forces pulling on them (when I was younger I liked the freedom of them both staying wardens)#but it just makes the 'we're sticking together *no matter what*' all the more satisfying and triumphant for me.#we'll find a way and if there is no way we'll fucking make it together :') and they do
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Do any NieYao (or general 3zun) shippers follow me? I've been tossing around the idea of a nieyao fic but I'm getting tripped up by timeline shit because good lord JGY's life is a nightmare... is there anyone who wouldn't mind either:
a) chatting with me about timeline/canon stuff to help me get sorted
b) sending me recs of their favourite nieyao fics đ for, uh, strictly research related purposes for sure for sure
#mdzs#nieyao#man i've been wanting to try writing someone nieyao related for ages and finally stumbled across a prompt that intrigues me#but it's always intimidating approaching a character/ship you haven't done before... so much canon to get sorted out in my brain first đ«#i just finished my two Long Fics and i'm waffling between projects right now :( i need something to sink my teeth into#i have a whumpy post-burial mound siege wangxian oneshot that needs a bit more love to get the ending and flow right...#and a meet-in-childhood wangxian fic that's just fun and cute that i really need to return to... since writing that soulmate au this one go#backburnered and i would really like to look at it again#and a very silly different-third-meeting hualian fic but it's a case fic and involves serious plotting before i can do much with it *sigh*#so instead of dealing with any of that i'm chasing this plot bunny instead god help me#when you want to write but nothing feels quite right... at least putting meng yao through a breakdown might be fun#bene speaks#this is me rambling#i will be on a nine hour plane flight soon so i need some ideas to chew over... not that i'll actually have a laptop to write on god save m
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