#currently working on their story woo

[shanenotwatcher]

No Moral Orel content yet but have this sketch of my two Lesbian OCs because I like the idea of adding lips now + slightly new art style(?)

[thegettingbyp2]

Austin butler x reader

Reader and Austin are married and Austin does his first interview as a married man and tell them about how he met the reader and there love story plus maybe to add to the cuteness he announces that he is also gonna be a father

A Lot of Changes

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You were sitting front row in the audience, waiting for Austin, your husband, you walk onstage. He was currently in the middle of the press tour for Masters of the Air but this was his first interview since your wedding and you knew that he was going to be asked about it. You looked down at your hand, smiling when you saw the dainty gold band that was now sitting on your ring finger before being jolted out of your thoughts when you heard the rest of the audience applause as Austin walked on stage.

He’d spoken about Masters of the Air for about fifteen minutes before the interviewer changed the topic. ‘So, we’ve seen on your lovely girlfriend, no, your lovely wifes Instagram a couple of wedding photos,’ he said, causing Austin to smile softly, looking down at his ring before lifting his head, his eyes finding yours instantly and his smile growing. ‘How was it?’

‘One of the happiest days of my life,’ he replied, smiling. ‘I’d been ready to propose pretty much a week after we started dating so it’s been a long time coming but it was so worth it. We got married in this big stately home and she looked so beautiful,’ he said, his voice trailing off as he found you once again in the audience.

‘You were ready to propose after a week? And how long had you been dating before the wedding?’

‘So, we met when filming began again for Elvis after lockdown and she was wandering around the set, offering to get coffees for everyone. I’d noticed that she started doing that pretty much every day so one morning when I heard that she was making her rounds, I decided to go and get her a coffee and surprise her. The only downside is I now have to get her coffee every morning,’ he joked, making everyone else in the studio laugh.

‘And how did you propose?’

‘Well, I wanted to make this big deal of it, I had a plan where I’d booked a couple of days off work and I was going to take her out on a date, you know, really try to woo her. And then because we were in Australia, we were going to spend a couple of days in Sydney and on the last evening I was going to take her to a show at the Opera House, she’s always wanted to go and I was going to propose after the show, by the water. It didn’t really turn out like that, I jumped the gun a bit and our trip to Sydney ended up being a bit of an engagement-moon kind of thing,’ Austin explained, laughing softly. You smiled to yourself as you remembered the night, about a year and a half ago now.

You were waiting in Austin’s trailer for him to finish filming, curled up on the sofa with a film playing softly on the TV. You’d spent the day packing a couple of bags for you and Austin after he’d surprised you this morning by telling you that he was taking you to Sydney for a long weekend. The sound of the door opening made your head turn in the direction of the sound and you smiled tiredly as you watched Austin walk in.

‘How was filming?’ you asked softly when he came and sat down on the sofa next to you, resting his head on your shoulder and sighing heavily.

‘Long,’ he replied, the end of the word being cut off slightly by a yawn and you moved your arms to wrap around him, tangling your fingers in his hair and scratching lightly. ‘That feels amazing,’ he murmured, his eyes closing as he let his weight lean onto yours more.

‘Well, you don’t have to go back onto that set for the next few days. We’re going on holiday and I don’t want you even thinking about work for the whole time we’re away, you hear me?’ you asked, tilting his head to face you. As soon as his eyes were on yours, his body relaxed and he leaned in to give you a quick kiss before groaning against your lips.

‘I still need to pack, I was going to on my break earlier but I completely forgot. I won’t be long and then we can go.’

‘I’ve packed your bags for you, they’re on the bed with mine so we’re good to go whenever you’re ready. I didn’t know what kind of things you wanted to take so I’ve packed some hoodies as well that you might - ’

‘Marry me.’

His words cut you off straight away and you pulled back slightly, keeping your arms around his neck, to look at him. ‘What did you just say?’ you asked as Austin moved to sit more upright on the sofa, hooking your legs over his arms and pulling them across his lap, trying to pull you closer to him. He leaned in closer, a small smile playing on his lips as he looked at you.

‘Marry me,’ he repeated softly, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek. ‘I had this big plan where I was going to take you to the Opera House and propose while we were away but I couldn’t wait.’

‘But I’m in ratty sweatpants, one of your hoodies, this isn’t the time to propose to someone! I mean, I look - ’

‘Perfect. You look perfect ,’ he said, grinning at you now as he tugged you even closer, until your nose was brushing against his. ‘So, what do you say? Will you marry me?’

‘Will we still get to go to the Opera House?’

‘Yes,’ he replied, laughing.

‘Then yes!’ you exclaimed, pulling him in for a kiss.

When Austin had finished recounting the story of his proposal, the studio erupted in applause and you couldn’t stop the blush from rising in your cheeks. ‘And how has married life been treating you?’ the host asked, grinning at Austin.

‘Incredible, we had our honeymoon in Spain and since being back, everything’s just felt so right and amazing and there’s a lot of changes going on at the minute so it’s terrifying but so exciting at the same time.’

‘What kind of changes are you making?’

‘Well, uh,’ Austin chuckled nervously, his hand running along his thigh as he adjusted his seat and looked over at you, looking for permission. Smiling back at him, you nodded gently. Austin grinned back at you before turning back to the host. ‘We’ve been changing one of the guest rooms in the house into a nursery. About three months ago, we found out that we’re going to be parents.’

The applause that followed was deafening and you and Austin couldn’t help but laugh at the reaction, neither of you knowing what you were expecting. Once the applause had died down, the host wrapped up his interview with Austin. Austin thanked him and stood. Instead of heading off of the set, he made his way over to you, sitting on the floor in front of you and grabbing your wrists, draping your arms around his neck.

‘You were amazing up there,’ you murmured into his ear, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to the top of his head as his fingers absentmindedly began to play with yours.

‘Thank you, baby,’ he replied, craning his neck around to look at you, nothing but love in his eyes. ‘How are you guys doing?’

‘We’re just fine,’ you said, smiling warmly at him, ‘the amount of interviews you’ve got lined up over the next couple of months, they’re going to know just how big their daddy is before they’re even born.’

Austin tilted his head backwards until your face was upside down in his eyes. ‘I love you. Both of you.’

You leaned down to quickly peck his lips before moving your hands to cup either side of his face, running your thumbs along his cheeks. ‘We love you too. Now, be quiet, we’re trying to listen to the rest of the show.’

[weirdplutoprince]

Trauma in Solo leveling

Always haunted by what could have been of Solo Leveling if the narrative acknowledged the inherent trauma vision that guides most of Jin-Woo's actions through the series instead of glorifying him for that.

Like, it is pretty clear to me from the start that a lot of his obsession with self reliance and his increasingly cynical views of the world ("The weak are destined to be betrayed") are a direct response to the double dungeon incident, and in more ways than we initially realize.

I think it's particularly obvious in the way he is paralled with Lee Joohee; while they're both shown to be traumatized from their encounter, Joohee is supposedly 'worse off' than him. She has noticeable flashbacks to that episode and withdraws from life and work in an attempt to avoid possible triggers - becoming paralysed when she fails to do so. And because, while also afraid, Jin-Woo is instead making a point to return to dungeons we are very clearly meant to think that he is moving on when she is not. ...Except that he isn't.

Because, you see, along with withdrawing, the reenactment of a traumatic event is also a very common response to trauma. And so is the risky behaviour that might come with it. And what does Jin-Woo does as soon as he's able to leave the hospital again? Immediately throw himself into dungeons, alone, with a clear disregard for personal safety and an extreme need to both prove himself and give meaning to his near death experience before.

Not only does he goes right back into the very same place his trauma took place, but he seems to subconsciously be trying to recreate said event in a way that gives him control of the situation. This time, he wasn't abandoned to die alone in a dungeon: he did it himself, willingly. He placed himself in that position. And later on, when he risks himself with shady parties he expects to betray him, he seems almost content; once again putting himself in risk by creating a scenario where he is 'abandoned' and 'betrayed' but where he can come off on top. He is desperate to both have his belief confirmed that someone perceived as a weak hunter like he is will always be betrayed, always be left behind, and to fight that supposed fate. To prove that he has 'fixed' this aspect of himself and will thus not fall victim to that consequences of that abandoment again. In fact, he is so detatched from the current scene that he deliberately ignores the fact Yoo Jinho challenges those believes by protecting Jin-Woo, whom he believes to be an E rank at that point.

And were this any other story, all his development from then on would prove the faults of this mindset. The dangers of self reliance, of cutting yourself off from any support network, from depriving himself of any sort of meaningful trust or vulnerability with others. But instead, we're meant to respect the fact he is increasingly isolated from everyone else. That he becomes cold, emotionally withdrawn and paranoid (his refusal to join any of the existing guilds always felt to me like his need for control taken to extreme, plus the fact he could not deal with how exposed he felt working with others again). And I think that's really sad.

It would have been really interesting to have a story that is willing to challenge the notion that he is better off alone, and that trust in others is ultimately unecessary. And that would acknowledged the strength necessary to allow himself to trust and be vulnerable after everything - and the importance of surrounding himself with people he loves and knows will protect him too. Sad 😔

[fillinforlater]

Monday of Appreciation: Part 106

Hello everyone, Smite here!

I have returned with the (not yet annual) release of MoA. When you look at the release dates of some of these stories, you might realize how fucking far behind I am. The back log is literally at 100+ fics that I still want to check out, so please excuse this time capsule lmao.

No matter how old they might be, these fics are golden, so send the writers some love!

(Update: currently sinking into IRL work but also into waaaaaay too long fics. I promise I will give it my all to finish some of them in the next to weeks, but other things have priority rn)

-1-

@ggidolsmuts: Move ft. Nana (woo!ah!)

There is a disturbing lack of Nana fics (geez, Smite, write them yourself then! - shut up, inner voice!). I have to thank ddeun once more for keeping us well fed. Nana's move(s) and shifty facial expressions (from cute to deadly) can really leave a man stunned.

I want more Nana.

-2-

@essentiallyleaf: Kinktober Day 16 ft. Choi Yujin (TW)

The Trigger Warning is there for a reason.

Unique execution on writing. This fic might not consider all the moral implications a sexual relationship between siblings might have, but not everything has to be a case study... this more a study of, I guess, let's fuck Yujin no matter the blood coursing through our veins.

I get it, ngl.

-3-

@worldsover: Completeness ft. Mashiro, Yeseo

The Mashiro/Yeseo combo is so thick, it should be banned for being too overpowered - or at least it has to be stripped from the hands of the great Levi because otherwise I have to ask for more, more, MORE of this. Hell, I can barely think about anything but their bodies wtf

-4-

@praeluxius: Red Wine ft. Karina, Natty

Speaking of insane bodies, you are all of course familiar with the meta-defining Karina but have you considered Natty? How about both? At the same time??? Thank you and what in the fuck, Prael, for a very intoxicating threesome.

-5-

@syeollock: Fallen Angel ft. Hyewon

Yo, I know this fic! I'm very glad @syeollock was able to kick of their writing career with this it. I feel honored that I was able to help, but they were the one who came up with the idea and executed it very well. It's a pleasure to still see so much IZ*ONE content.

-6-

@birchleavesdawn: Breakfast in Bed ft. Ireh (Purple Kiss)

Very simple, though it is not simple to get that many notes with a very nugu idol. I gotta give my props, I understand were it is coming from and I'm really craving some Ireh for desserts.

-7-

@tothosewhoyearnforit: Stress Relief ft. Yeji

Relatable. The stress, I mean. I've never been a fan of leather outfits, I just find most others better, but holy fuck, the boots, the slut drop, the overall style... this Yeji was something else.

[nostalgebraist]

the light, and the glass

So there's this particular quality I have, as a fiction writer, and I have very little sense of how common or rare it is.

The quality is closely related to that famous Michaelangelo quip, about his sculptures being "already complete within the marble block":

The sculpture is already complete within the marble block, before I start my work. It is already there, I just have to chisel away the superfluous material.

This is how I feel, too, about my works of fiction. They feel like "real things" that "already exist," in some important sense, before I write them down -- or, indeed, before I even fully know what they contain.

So, for instance, if I haven't yet thought of an ending for a story I'm playing with in my mind, I nonetheless have a vivid sense that this particular story has an ending, and that this ending already is whatever it happens to be. It's only that I haven't managed to "see" it yet.

To clarify the point, consider the contrast between this thing, and two relatively familiar ways of thinking about how fiction gets made:

Conscious, goal-directed craft/artifice. Intending to write a Satisfying Plot in which each character has an Arc, the Story Beats follow logically from one another and are arranged with what is called Good Pacing, the proverbial Cat is Saved, etc., and "solving for" these desiderata in a conscious manner. Or, intending to create something much more outré and unsettling than all that -- but having some specific set of (outre, unsettling) intentions in mind, at the outset, and concocting/arranging the elements of your work in a conscious way guided by these intentions.

Free-wheeling, self-expressive "creativity." Just do whatever, man! Follow your bliss. The canvas is blank and anything is possible. Whatever you feel like putting into that empty space, go ahead and put it there. (The key thing being that, after "putting something there," you'll look and recognize something with origins in you, and your own whims and feelings at a particular moment.)

For me, though, the process of writing, and even of "ideating" (plotting, etc.), feels like a kind of transcription or channeling, as opposed to either of the above.

When I say "channeling," here, I don't mean that I have some actual, mystical belief in a supernatural object revealing itself through me. Not in the woo-woo sense anyway; whatever is really going on here, I am sure it "merely" involves the mechanics of the human mind, as implemented in the physical human brain and body.

But I do mean that it feels a lot like that. Like the story -- and not just the story part of the stories, but the whole thing, the "art object" -- has some real prior existence outside of me, first.

Like I am merely doing my best to "get it right," to be a perfect transmitter for the radio signal. To "do justice" to the "real thing," in the secondary act of writing words onto a page.

To be a courier who transports a valuable object from some originary otherworld into a place which happens to be called "existence" -- and to ensure, as much as possible, that it suffers no disfiguring scrapes during the journey.

----

I should say, though, that there's a lot of the "#1" above in my process too, the conscious-artifice thing.

Except... when I do that kind of thing, the intentions all come from the "real object," and my goal is to fill in whatever I can't see of that object so that everything I can see is preserved.

So: I will come to know, surely and indefeasibly, that the story must have some particular feature. (An event, a little moment, a character feeling a certain way at a certain time, even a specific turn of phrase.) Better to say: I know the story does have this feature. I see it in the marble.

But I can't see everything that's there, already, in the marble. And sometimes these glimpses-from-the-beyond are strange, inconvenient, difficult to "fit" into the current story (or perhaps into any story) in a natural-seeming manner.

And that's my task, when I'm doing the conscious-artifice thing: to take this collection of axiomatically-present glimpses, and build a structure around them into which they can "fit," naturally and even logically, just as if they were ordinary story-building-blocks like their neighbors, being placed here and there for ordinary story-reasons.

----

This has various implications. For one, it determines which kinds of writerly anxieties I suffer from, and which types leave me alone.

Like, I have virtually no self-doubt about my "ideas." About the overall, large-scale goodness-or-badness of the thing I'm creating. At least, not when considered "in principle," in an idealized sense that abstracts away from my actual capabilities as a guy who puts words on pages.

"Was this story, as a whole, a good idea?" is a question I find difficult to ask myself. Even when applied to smaller units, like specific plot points, this kind of question simply goes nowhere when I attempt to think about it. Insofar as my mind can cough up any answer, that answer looks like:

Yes

(after a moment, with mounting bewilderment) Yes, obviously -- how strange even to ask!

(after another moment, and as an afterthought) ...but if it weren't any good, is that really my business? It's not like I came up with it. I was asked to keep it safe and bring it into reality, and I take that duty seriously, but once it has reached its destination I wipe my hands of the matter. Don't shoot the messenger!

It's not, just, that I feel like the "real thing" "already exists." I also feel, always, that the real thing is... really good.

I deeply, thoroughly trust the Muse / Higher Power responsible for originally "making" this stuff. (To speak in relatively woo-woo terms, for ease and clarity.)

The Muse / Higher Power is a seriously skilled artist, much more so than little-old-me; if She makes any errors at all, they are not really mistakes, but "are volitional and are the portals of discovery."

And what's more, there is a sacred, unearthly gleam to the artifacts She makes, perhaps having something to do with that Fairyland, that place-other-than-"existence," in which they are originally made.

It feels like an honor to be designated as a courier for these enchanted things. Perhaps not a deserved honor -- on which more below -- but it's never the nature and value of the transported goods that I doubt.

(There is a definite sense of ritual to the thing that I do, here; a sense of connecting with some other place, definitively apart from our mundane here-and-now, and likewise more important/primary/etc. than the latter. Hence, perhaps, my tendency to not-write for long stretches, and then write in long sustained bursts for many hours at a time, which need a good deal of preliminary building-up-steam before they fully get going; it takes time to pierce, and then fully cross, the veil between worlds. And the various imprints of this stuff on the works themselves are not hard to see, once you're looking for them; they are of course especially transparent in TNC.)

All that being said, I do suffer persistently from a different anxiety.

When Michaelangelo said the thing about the sculpture "already complete within the marble block," he said it as... Michaelangelo.

As a famous, incontrovertibly masterful craftsman. Not a guy likely to suffer from doubts about his ability to put the chisel to the marble block, and reveal precisely that shape which was already there, inside.

But I'm not Michaelangelo. I'm not even sure I'm a good craftsman, much less a great one.

Certainly I've never conceived of myself in this way, even aspirationally. (Well, maybe I did in childhood and adolescence, but that was a very different thing from what I'm talking about now.)

I don't do what a person would do, if they wanted to be a Writer, and strove to be the best one they could. I don't, for the most part, practice my craft. I write because there's a Real Thing that only I can see, and it's not going to make into Existence any other way.

And since I don't write by habit or as practice -- since I only write at times when a Real Thing is in need of some incarnating-work, and I'm the only one around to do it -- I'm not exactly an ideal candidate for the job.

I am like a man who never especially wanted to be a sculptor, never practiced the trade, and was never more-than-ordinarily good with his hands, even... who is then, suddenly, struck with a very literal version of the experience Michaelangelo described.

Who, suddenly and inexplicably, begins to actually see a sculptural masterpiece lurking inside, whenever he looks at a faceless marble block.

What is our protagonist to do? Naturally, he will find a chisel, and begin chipping away. He will feel that these things need to be freed from their prisons, released and revealed to all the world, so that all the world can delight in them as he already does.

But he will be very aware of the unfamiliar way the chisel sits in his hand; of the way that hand trembles, and fails to meet the mark, and sometimes shaves off precious bits of what was really and originally a beautifully formed hand -- so that the hand, in the realized artwork, forever bears some oddity of shape which was not a part of what he saw inside the block, but only a consequence of his own shameful incompetence.

He will feel that his works, such as they are, are an odd mixture of amateurish craft and direct, divine inspiration. Insofar as he is Great, it will be because he has had Greatness thrust upon him, from without. He will feel, sometimes, that his successes have been obtained through a kind of cheating, not won fair-and-square.

And he will feel, always, a particular kind of (justified) impostor syndrome: an awareness that what he is doing, when he sits down before the marble block with the chisel in hand, is a very different sort of thing than what is usually called "sculpting," and what is being practiced by careful, hard-working aspirants just down the road, at the local workshop. The students there call themselves "sculptors," and our protagonist supposes he must call himself a "sculptor" too -- but he knows that behind this coincidence of language, a vast and strange chasm is hidden.

(I worry that this metaphor sounds flattering to me -- I am divinely inspired, they are merely toiling away and following the rules -- when I don't mean it that way at all.

In particular, note that there is nothing in our story to rule out some of the "real" sculptors down the road from also being visionaries who see the finished work in the block. Indeed, I got the metaphor from Michaelangelo, who was precisely this way.

I am only saying that all the conceivable configurations of craft/inspiration are in fact possible: just as it is possible to be skilled but uninspired, it's possible for inspiration to strike someone who lacks the capacity to fully realize its content. And that is how I feel, about my own attempts to create.)

----

When I was getting near the end of Almost Nowhere, and struggling with this kind of feeling, Esther would often reassure me by saying: "you are the light, and you are the glass it shines through."

In other words: you are a transmitter, and you are the source of the transmitted signal. Remember that in actual fact, the "real thing in the marble" came from your own little brain, just as much as the rest of it did. In actual fact, if there is a Muse and a Higher Power, it is really just an additional part of the same creature that holds the chisel, and worries over its trembling hand.

I did, indeed, find this very reassuring. And that's a funny thought, in a way! I imagine that for some people -- and indeed for me, in many other endeavours -- the same sentiment could easily have the opposite effect.

"It's all on you. It's all your responsibility. If any of it is bad, there's no one else to blame. If there is any 'Higher Power' at all, it is only the one inside you at all times, and not able to save you through unexpected intervention, from some true outside."

But I already believed, thoroughly, in the magical potency of the goods I was charged with transporting. If I was (somehow!) their maker, too, then (somehow!) the root of that glimpsed, alien magic was in me.

And so, perhaps, I could trust myself to ferry them into Existence without ruining, without even much dimming, the fairy-gleam from elsewhere that made them what they were.

[ghouljams]

Okay hear me out Gaz with a darling who's a nursing student, but they got their CNA(certified nursing assistant) certification in highschool through you're high school trade school program, got your LPN(license practical nurse), and is currently working on get your RN(registered nurse) with your final goal of getting their LNP(licensed nurse practitioner). You could meet in the ER because he worked himself too hard didn't sleep forgot to drink and eat and just thump Price and Soap rushed the poor man to the hospital. All he remembers is he hit the ground and he wakes up to quite the pretty nurse tending to him.

He finds out later that his nurse is still a student and is actually in a couple of his classes and starts seeing you everywhere in classes, at the library, student events, parties that Soap throws, finds out you're even in the band program. How the hell did he not notice such a pretty little thing for so long?

-Hot mess rambler

P.s. I'm sorry (not) for giving you an idea for price's darling

OK. OK OK OK OK I have a thought, and also multiple "people going to the hospital" stories from college. I do love love love Gaz fainting, but I also love this one story I have and I need you to tell me which one sounds more fun.

Gaz has noticed you. He sees you in band, sees you in the library, walking to classes, he spots you at student events. You're hard not to notice, you're gorgeous, radiant, you laugh a little too loud and he loves you for it. He's got no time to take you out though. That's the problem. He would've talked to you by now but his schedule is insane and he has no time to date, and you deserve to be wooed. You deserve to date someone who has time for you. He's working on it, working with Price to figure out his schedule for next semester so he can have time for you. GOD you don't even know he exists but he is making time for you.

He's out with Soap having a dart at some shitty college bar when he hears from someone inside that you're seeing someone. Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's the upset that he didn't get to you first, but Gaz punches a dumpster. No half measures, he hits the cool metal hard and he feels his knuckles crunch as much as he hears them. Soap stares at him and calls Price for a ride to the hospital while Gaz spits and swears. "Yeah, no, Gaz punched a dumpster," Soap crouching to inspect it, "There is a dent, aye good on ya Gaz."

And of course who should he see when he gets settled in the ER, who's bandaging his hand? You of course. Working an ER shift between classes and just as radiant as always even in scrubs. No, especially in scrubs. He thought you were a student, then again he doesn't really know anything about you except that you're gorgeous and taken. You ask Soap what happened because Gaz is too busy staring at you to be conversational. You laugh, just a little too loud, when he tells you that Gaz punched a dumpster. "Alcohol will do that," you smile at him, and Gaz feels like he's staring at the sun.

And maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's the painkiller you gave him, maybe it's the way you smile at him like you could stop the world with a glance, but he can't stop his mouth from moving. "I'd be good to ya, break up wi' your boyfriend," he slurs. Soap wheezes, leans over to clutch his stomach he laughs so hard. You give him a look of utter confusion.

"I don't have a boyfriend," you tell him, "hardly have time to sleep between this and classes." You lean over Gaz and he sits up a bit to sniff you, just enough to smell hospital soap and the last dredge of your perfume. "Is he always like this?" You ask Soap.

"Nah 'e's fuckin' trollied," Soap manages between giggles, "sober 'im up an' he's class."

"Right," you smile again, God you should smile all the time Gaz never wants you to stop smiling. You look at him and he must look like a fool the way Soap sputters and laughs. "Why don't you ask me out when you sober up," You grin, like it's a private joke between the two of you. It is most certainly not a joke to Gaz.

"I will," He tells you, deathly serious. Your smile softens a little and you grab a pen from your pocket. You hold Gaz's arm still and carefully write down your name and phone number, making sure it's legible before you let him take a look at it. "Bet," He grins.

"This'll be a great story for your kids," Soap says, leaning to inspect your penmanship.

"Gotta get a ring now," Gaz agrees. You laugh and leave them to their plotting, sure you won't hear from your patient in the morning.

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

BL Premiering in April

01/04 | 🇰🇷🇹🇭 Love is Like a Cat MDL When global superstar Piuno is threatened by those who wish to see him brought low, there’s only one thing he can do to save his reputation and his career: work at a pet daycare. Pushing aside his severe dislike for animals, Piuno begins working alongside the daycare’s director, Dae Byeol, who helps him find ways to overcome the trauma that first inspired his hatred of animals. As his heart begins to soften, unexpected feelings for Dae Byeol begin to arise. Could their current working relationship grow into something more?

03/04 | 🇹🇭 We Are MDL For this friend group, no matter how hard their university studies are, there's always something more to do their head in; the chaos of life and love won't let anyone rest. We are... friends, but we fight each other and like each other so much we might hit on each other.

11/4 | 🇯🇵 Living with Him MDL With his parents frequently away for work, Natsukawa Ryota had been the main caretaker for his younger sisters and the housework, but now he’s finally about to go to University, he’s looking forward to being able to live freely on his own! However, in a surprising turn of events, he’s surprised to discover his roommate will be his childhood friend Tanaka Kazuhito. Despite his picture-perfect looks and pleasant personality, Kazuhito doesn’t have a girlfriend. Curious, Ryota accompanies him in searching for the reason why, but is unable to find any flaws and finds his heart fluttering over Kazuhito’s kind words and actions. As he gets to know more about Kazuhito, their relationship develops. Thus begins their cohabitation life where they’re mutually self-aware of each others presence! 11/4 | 🇰🇷 Gray Shelter MDL With no dream aside from to survive, Soohyuk reunites with his friend, Yoondae, who has no place to go. The two end up sharing space together; will this cohabitation spark something?

18/4 🇯🇵 At 25:00, in Akasaka MDL Shirasaki Yuki, a rookie actor, finally lands an audition and is chosen to star in a BL drama alongside current superstar Hayama Asami, who was also his senior at university. Feeling anxious and troubled before his first major role, Shirasaki is approached by Hayama with the proposal to form a “romantic relationship for the sake of character development” until the filming concludes. Their pseudo-romantic involvement off-screen leads to a moving and beautifully crafted love story exploring the intricacies of relationships within the entertainment industry and among actors. 26/4 🇹🇭 My Stand-In MDL Joe, the stunt man of famous actor Tong, happened to meet Ming. Having developed a deep relationship, Joe didn't realise that Ming had always seen him as Tong's replacement. When the truth is revealed, Joe has to take work on a foreign set where an accident takes his life. When he wakes, Joe's in the body of a young man likewise named Joe who'd met with an accident on the same day. With help, he's soon living the same life as he was before—with the same people—and he meets Ming once more. In this life, Ming wants Joe back at his side as before and Joe doesn't know why. Ming, who's kept all memories of the old Joe, tries to find the truth about Joe's continued life in order to return Joe to his side and give him the explanation he never had the chance to.

?/4 | 🇰🇷 Boys Be Brave! MDL Jung Ki Sub is Kim Jin Woo's slacker friend - and secret crush. So when Ki Sub asks to crash at his place, his heart tingles to be near him everyday. But as the short stay turns into permanent mooch, how long can Jin Woo keep his true feelings under wraps and hold back from confessing? ?/4 | 🇯🇵 A Man Who Defies the World of BL 3 MDL Mob realizes he’s trapped in a world straight out of a boys’ love comic, complete with typical love story scenes. Determined to remain a background character and avoid becoming the main focus, Mob tries to keep a low profile. However, in this sequel, the love and comedy intensify! In an ultimate BL world surrounded by extremely handsome men, will Mobu be able to avoid the situation where B becomes L? The main cast will return, with Inukai playing Mob, who fends off advances from handsome men tossing out “BL love flags.” Yutaro will return as his younger brother, Ayato, while Akihisa Shiono will be Tojo, Ayato’s lover. Asahi Ito will come back as Kikuchi, a college student who has a crush on Mob. Also couldn't find definite info on 🇹🇭 Knock Knock, Boys! to be sure it will premiere this month or not.

[therealdogsinmymind]

Okii, I saw you had some open slots so I thought Id give it a shot!!

Jinwoo with Male!childhood friend!reader who remembers everything post-regression. Reader had pretended to be oblivious ever since and planned to take his secret (feelings) to the GRAVE.

BUT eventually it slips when reader refers to their crush as "SM" when talking on a panel at an anime convention (Reader wrote a series based on the last timeline but changed things around so it would be hard to recognise) they were invited to.

The pannel is talking about childhood crushes and reader literally describes jinwoo pre-regression powers and all then saying "oh they're just a character from an old show I watched about growing up (LIE) avsndnjdn 😅😅" (reasoning was "ahahaha its not like he'll see this right? ... right??)

The issue is that jinwoo sees a recording of the panel and realizes that reader remembers EVERYTHING and needs to confront them NOW.

Here are the issues:

Jin Woo didnt even know that Reader was an Author in the first place

Reader is in ANOTHER COUNTRY and is going to stay there for a few weeks after said convention

Reader confessed their feelings assuming the other didn't feel the same before the last battle, DIED, and then had been pretending to not remember anything for years after time reset.

Reader's cosplaying (as a cute anime girl /maid with the fluffy short skirts) at the convention and having fans SIMPING for them.

All I know that Jinwoo will not be waiting for reader to come back to Korea

This is mostly Brainrot, but I hope you like it skdnkdnd!

have a good one :)

Hello There! Thank you for your request and for the wait!! I hope you like what I've cooked up!! A standard drabble for me is 300-600 words but this ended up being a little over 1,100 lmao ^^' It's only loosely edited so I hope there's nothing tooooo terribly wrong with it!

Anyway! Without further ado!

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

Be an author they said, it’ll be great, they said. 

Nobody actually said this, especially since you’ve largely kept your writing a secret from your friends and family. However your whole life you’ve been determined, and consequently you were thrilled when you were invited to America to speak at a panel about your works, who wouldn’t be? You never got to do anything like this in your last life, it was absolutely mind-blowing to even consider. However you’re not sure if this is what you wanted seeing as your fans have started to ask some invasive ass questions. 

“My childhood crush?” you repeat with a dry mouth, you really don’t want to talk about Jinwoo in front of a room full of people. Surely you can spin this, make up a story; you’re good at that. Hesitation fills you, you don’t want to admit that you’re gay to a room full of strangers but you can’t spin this tale that hard. “The only childhood crush I had is this character from a really obscure comic,” you say with a weak laugh, unfortunately they all prompt you to say more.

“Well.. He was actually a huge inspiration for my series,” you offer, cringing internally. Jinwoo will never see this, never ever, it’s fine. “This character, we’ll call him SM,” the audience groans at the hidden identity, “I can’t reveal all my secrets to you guys! I gotta have some mystery y’know? Anyway- he was this really weak guy, super cute right? Then he ends up getting like crazy strong. Not that he wasn’t hot when he looked like a wet cat, I have taste.” The audience chuckles knowingly, they get you, you have a similar character in your current series, he’s quite beloved. You clear your throat and continue, getting bolder despite the way your hands are sweating. “I’ve always been in love with him, that's why I wrote my story, I couldn’t get that, um, series… out of my head and I needed to create something of my own. It altered me in a way that I’ll never forget, and I’ll love SM until the day that I die.” The room goes quiet for a moment and you have to wipe your palms on the fluff of your stupid maid skirt. Why did you want to cosplay at this convention again? You look ridiculous up here, cat ears atop your head as you talk about some “fictional” boy like you’re deeply in love with him. You could’ve at least worn not a frilly skirt?

Suddenly the crowd goes wild clapping. “You’re so real!” Someone yells and everyone else cheers in agreement. Is that something the kids say? You’ll take it. 

The rest of the panel is much less harrowing, lots of goofing off and then the next day you have autographs and photos right after, who knew you were so popular in America? It’s quite exciting, but you’re exhausted every night when you get back to your hotel room. 

The last day at the convention you trudge back to your room, slipping your heels off and flopping face down onto your bed. Your skirt flips up and you don’t even bother to fix it, what’s the point? You’re just going to sleep like this, let the exhaustion take you. You have another two weeks of sight-seeing in America before you head home. You’re excited for it but a part of you just really misses Jinwoo, you want to call him but then he’d know you’re not in Korea.

“SM, huh?” The bed dips and a familiar voice sounds from behind you, just before hand settles on the back of your thigh. The touch barely high enough that a gloved portion of it brushes your skin above your thigh high stockings. You startle so badly you roll off the bed in the other direction. 

You hit the floor hard enough that it knocks the air out of you and you have to take a second to reorient yourself before you spring up, pointing at the intruder, “Y-you! What are you doing here!?” 

“I could ask you the same question. You up and vanished, I had to find out from a video posted of some panel that you’re not dead.”

“I’m fine, you could’ve texted! Besides! How they hell did you get here so fast!” Your voice is shrill as you round the bed, crossing your arms over your chest as you stand in front of him. 

He doesn’t reply right away, just raising his eyebrow, unimpressed. “Avoiding the question?”

“What?”

“Your childhood crush-” he starts, not needing to finish. You start stuttering out excuses, it’s not what he thinks, it came to you in a dream, you were just making stuff up, the more you talk the more you dig yourself into a hole.

Jinwoo sighs and grabs your wrist, pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and sticking his face in the crook of your neck. “Why didn’t you tell me you remember everything?” His words are quiet and pained, full of mourning. Your heart throbs suddenly aware of how painful it must’ve been for him to have to start over all by himself.

“I’m sorry.” You don’t know what else to say. You don’t know how to tell him you’ve loved him for as long as you’ve known him, in both timelines that is. Or how to tell him you were also suffering alone. Or even how to say you think you’d die without him by your side. You shakily reach up and card your fingers through his hair, exhaling a breath you’ve been holding for a little too long. 

Jinwoo makes a noise of discontent, “I don’t want an apology.” You stiffen, unsure what to do before he continues, “I want to know why you thought it was okay to let other men see you like this…” He runs a hand up your thigh, it’s a whisper of a touch. Eventually his gloved fingers sneak onto your bare skin then under a too-frilly skirt. You suck in a sharp breath. Does this mean he feels the same? When you confessed so very long ago in the other world you never got to hear an answer so suffice to say your brain is spinning as he presses a soft his to your shoulder. 

“Jinwoo-” you start. 

“Be it America, or anywhere else in the world… Any timeline… I will find you and I won’t let you slip through my fingers- never again.” He makes his intentions clear with a scrape of his uncannily sharp teeth across your skin. “And trust me, I still have some… frustrations- about you hiding your feelings from me for all these years.” He says, snapping your garter, making you yelp.Ah, the consequences of your actions, so you see. Well, perhaps you don’t mind too much if this is the outcome.

[comicaurora]

Hello! I wanted to send my appreciation to you as a longtime fan of OSP and Auroura! I am an English Major with ADHD and your content always makes me inspired and my English Lit. Brain very happy with how good your storytelling is.

My question is what stories inspire you to write or make you want to sit down and tell a story? Your content makes me want to work on my projects, but my Adhd only last as long as I am not disturbed (i.e. need to eat or get up and move). You have always been upfront about your Adhd so my second question is how do you keep focused on your story and not burn out? (Talking as someone who is writing a novel as their thesis)

You have been a great inspiration over the years and someone I look up to as a storyteller! I wish you focus and luck! => 💝

Woo! Interesting questions!

When it comes to inspiration, I haven't really found a pattern for what works and what doesn't. The majority of the time, only new experiences/stories I haven't seen or read before work for me - rewatches and re-reads, while much more comfortable for my brain, don't tend to translate into creative inspiration for me - but it's not like a specific genre, or even a specific kind of relaxation, consistently work for me.

The way my brain works is a bit "no take only throw", as it were. I want to just sit down and make solid, steady progress in a predictable environment with a routine, but what I need is to try new things, go outside, take risks - because all those things give me new material to work with and refill the creative gas tank. When I'm stuck, I can't just hit the gas and punch through the block - I need to back up and try a new angle.

The good part of all this is that whatever engine that's running my subconscious is actually pretty good at signaling what it needs. The ADHD brain will be repelled by activities that aren't working for it and drawn to the things it needs at the time, whether that's creative energy or exercise or cleaning or doodling or listening to music or suddenly binge-watching a show that's not even all that great, and once it's got what it needs out of it - whatever that is - it'll be repelled again, either spitting out a sudden burst of creative energy or retreating to its den to chew on whatever it got out of the experience for a more slow-building reward. Little bursts of motivation and creativity pop up all throughout the day, and if you can pivot to the activity in question - or at least note down the idea you just had - you'll be able to harness that pretty nicely.

This "system" really only works for me because I have an extremely unstructured schedule and nobody relying on me to be consistent moment-to-moment. If I'm following the creative needs of my inscrutable Better Writer In The Back Of My Head, I can't be worrying about things like a consistent lunchtime or classes or a 9-to-5. All of my observations are caveat'd by the fact that I am ridiculously lucky to have the kind of freedom of movement and schedule that I can focus entirely on getting to know my brain better.

When it comes to staying focused on any one project, I've reluctantly concluded that the only way to win is not to play. Creativity needs time and diversity to recharge, and when you stall out in any given work session, it's usually because you're out of gas. This is why I maintain several projects in varying stages of "for my eyes only"-ness - a sketchbook, private writing projects, patreon doodles, music practice; even in the large-scale projects like the channel and the comic I have multiple angles of attack at any given time, where I can as needed switch between scripting, research, drawing frames, storyboarding more plot onto the end of the comic's current draft and lining/coloring/background-ing the finalized pages of the comic chapters earlier. This lets me maintain semi-steady progress on average, even if any one facet of the process is left by the wayside for potentially even weeks at a time.

If you're working on one writing project, one novel, I'd recommend giving yourself some time to do small-scale side-hobbies. It won't feel like they're helping, but they are.

I've started to think of inspiration rather similarly to the way I think about nutrition and digestion. It's a somewhat arcane process that, despite being a part of me, I don't exactly understand what's going on under the hood. If you eat only one thing, no matter what that one thing is, you're going to end up sick because you're lacking all sorts of niche micronutrients. If you parcel out a specific space of the only things you're allowed to eat, you might not get sick (as quickly) but you're likely going to become increasingly miserable as you think of the things you're not allowing yourself to try, or slowly build up highly specific forms of malnourishment by avoiding certain things entirely. But if you start listening to your body and try eating what it says it needs at any given time - oh, I could go for a rice bowl right now, oh I don't think I'm feeling something sugary today, man I could really go for some grapes - you're likely to hit a broadly good balance of health because you're hitting a broad range of things your body needs, even if you don't know all of their names or calorie counts, and your body is putting those resources to good use without your conscious input. Between my brain and my stomach, I only trust one of those to actually understand what a stomach needs to do its thing - and between me and my creative brain, most of the time it feels like I just work here.

I hope there was something helpful in all this!

[chromatic-lamina]

OPLA Episode 7 gets its own post. They really took the edge off Belle-mère.

Like, how hard would've it have been to have included the above and below, then had Belle-mère be overcome (like in the manga). I mean Sham, from the Kuro Neko Pirates got more action.

Ditched the cig too. I get that Sanji's cigarette representation is probably too much for current times, but the woman was a chain smoker and

Also, having her be Nami's conscience—which she is—but not publicly over the matter of shoplifting. Not saying that shoplifting's right, but Belle-mère doesn't make Nami apologise for her actions to Genzo. Is it because we can only have one dubious parental figure in Zeff? Or cos' she was a marine? Or a woman? Or what? Like this scene tells us so much not only about her, but about Nami (and Genzo) (below):

where she's basically telling Genzo that it's not such a big deal (the theft), flirts with and woos him to get what she wants (Nami's M.O.), and Nami gets to keep the book, and doesn't have to do any chores around the village to work it off!?! Like????

This above, where Belle-mère does show that she's upset, and also that they're poor, and also leading into Nami's childish tantrum about not having enough money (although over time), carries a lot more weight and angst (to me), than whatever they sanitised it with in the live action (it's similar, but it misses a lot of nuances).

And also, to weaken the historical bond between Nojiko and Nami, that seems to be almost criminal.

Panels above where Nojiko got her tattoos so that Nami wouldn't feel so bad about having to wear Arlong's. This is a flashback after all the fighting is over, so maybe episode 8 will address some of these things. But they flattened Nami's story out, rather than enhanced it.

In the live action, Nojiko and Nami have been at odds for the last nine years or so, and Nojiko is visibly hostile to her.

The iconic scene of Luffy placing the hat on Nami's head was still very powerful, and it was always about Luffy, but about Nami too. And I feel that OPLA has made her story less about her and more about Luffy, I guess. Like, I'd rather view her as someone resilient and loved who needed help, rather than someone who only needs help. OPLA has shown her resilience, but it has relegated Belle-mère and Nojiko to minor side characters, rather than major catalysts, I feel.

I still enjoyed the episode. Especially the extra Garp & Zeff exchanges, and Helpmeppo & Koby storylines, but this is Nami's pivotal story.

[pajamas-lipstick]

The last 4 episodes have been such a rollercoaster and full of so many great moments - comedic and beautiful and heartbreaking.

The thing i can't get over in both the original version of events around Sol's attack and the current one she's working to prevent is how damn brave Sun Jae is. In both scenarios he has an unrequited crush on someone who barely notices him and yet he fiercely and courageously not only saves Sol but is determined to bring the perpetrator to justice. His witness statement was so clear and just and calm - he was unflinching in the face of danger. We see this echoed in his statement to Sol that he's ok with getting hurt if he can protect her - he loves her yes, but he's also a fundamentally brave and heroic person, who trusts his heart - just as Sol is. As so many others have said, they are both reaching out through time, space and fate to rescue each other. Sol also trusts her heart and is similarly unflinching in her pursuit of a happy ending for Sun Jae, no matter what it costs her. I would bet on her too, if I were in Sun Jae's place. I believe our cute little bulldozer can do anything!

Going backwards, episode 8 was a blinder in so many ways - the meeting on the bridge after so many near misses the previous episode, the echoes from the beginning of their story, the umbrella! Then watching Sun Jae slowly morph from a cool, unruffled superstar to his sweet, awkward teen self the longer he was around Sol was just lovely. Her presence allowed him to be himself, truly.

I haven't even got to Im Sol's confession in the present - my goodness, what a breathtaking declaration of love. The acting from both was just gorgeous here - you could feel the release and relief of all that pain and longing. And after Sun Jae repeatedly made himself vulnerable it was time for her to do the same. I especially loved Kim Hye Yoon's startled reaction in the lift after actually telling him how she felt and Byeon Woo Seok's delirious, overwhelmed delight in his car after. And that kiss!! One for the ages and I love so much that she initiated it and crossed the last divide between them. I think I saw that was Woo Seok's suggestion when they were blocking the scene? which...makes me swoon even more, honestly (as if that was possible).

I love Detective Kim's doggedness in pursuit - he feels like a man who can get the bad guy. Indeed, all the 'adult' characters here are reassuring in the best ways and I agree with all the theories about a bit of magic around Halmeoni, too. Taesung was Ep 10's MVP for me and he's definitely got more of a role to play in changing fate. There's still six episodes to go after all (how on earth am i going to cope with the stress?!?!)

I am absolutely convinced it will be a happy ending. The lightness of touch and genuine laugh out loud moments every episode are setting the tone for a happy conclusion. Plus, there's no pre-determined feeling here (looking at you, Moon in the Day), rather the opposite. We are being shown over and over that a kind and unselfish heart can work miracles. They're not going through it for nothing, i just know it.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Ikemen Villain's 2024 Valentine's Day SE - Elbert Vs. Ellis - (Ellis' Story)

This is a summary/partial translation of the story, and doesn't include the epilogue. I did not have time to read Elbert's ending, so this will not be posted. Hopefully, someone else is kind enough to do so. Jude/Alfons STANS - I have their brief scene translated.

Someone may have already posted the fully translated story. If so, then great! I haven't searched for it myself, so please don't be sore if you've done so. Since we all use different translators, and I like to think we can fill in the blanks of each other's translations.

///Alternate translation.

***See translation notes.

Not 100% accurate. Please expect inaccuracies and grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything.

Kate is in the kitchen at Crown Castle. Everyone is excitedly making chocolate for V-Day, and Kate is conversing with staff and the sign language she’s been learning.

Soon, Ellis and Elbert pop into the kitchen each drawn to the happy sounds and atmosphere. Kate explains they’ve been making chocolates, and she secretly hopes they didn't notice the conversation she was having with the staff.

Elbert says he wants one and Ellis follows suit. Kate says she’s made chocolates for all the members of Crown. (Though it’s just small and basic - equal for everyone).

The boys notice a large chocolate cake and ask about it. Kate tells them it’s the for the “favorite" of Valentine’s Day.

Ellis & Elbert: “Favorite”?

Well, of course they both want the chocolate cake. She offers to make another cake together with them, but Elbert is like: That's a thought, but I want this one. Kate notices that they aren’t fighting with each other or anything like that, but now she’s at a loss.

Then Liam pops into the kitchen because something interesting is happening. He gives the three the idea that Elbert and Ellis should work at serving Kate all day -much like the two princes are trying to do to the princess in a play he is rehearsing- whoever provides the best service and woos the princess get the cake.

They both agreed to the competition. Later on Elbert suggests they write up Kate’s report of a previous mission she, William and Harrison went on. She agrees, but Elbert has to give up the task to Ellis because he has no experience with typewriters. He dictates the report and Ellis types. Kate is impressed he knows how to use one. Well, there’s lots of paperwork to do for Jude on top of more grueling tasks.

As they’re talking a dusky voice interrupts them.

Jude: Oh? Two men waiting on ya. What a big ego.

Alfons: A future where Kate will be in control of Crown may not be far off.

Elbert & Ellis: Al..../Jude.

Ellis: I'm currently serving Kate right now.

Jude: To think ya'd enjoy being laid on a woman's backside with pleasure. A terrible hobby. ***

Alfons: Isn't El also enjoying being laid on Kate's backside?***

Elbert: ....? I wonder if that's true?

(I can't keep up with the rush!)

Ellis: Oh, that's right. What kind of service would Jude be happy with?

Jude: That's already decided. I'd cry for joy if you took the initiative and finished your work before I gave you instructions.

Ellis: I do it sometimes, but I've never seen you cry with joy.....(Ellis' face LOL).

Jude: Be more determined.

Elbert: What about you, Al?

Alfons: Of course, there are things I can't say during the day and such services like these....

Kate: Mr. Alfons!

Alfons: Yes, yes, I know. You want to use it as a reference for your next service, right?

Alfons: Speaking of service.....

Kate is now being massaged by both Elbert and Ellis at the same time at Alfons' suggestion of their next service. Elbert is massaging her shoulders and Ellis her legs. They ask if she is feeling good. (I wish I was her).

She tells them that she feels good and all of a sudden she let's out a moan from how good it feels. She apologizes for the weird noise and the boys smile. Elbert says that he doesn't mind hearing more pretty noises from her, and Ellis says she looks like she feels good and calls her cute.

They ask her who is winning at this point and Kate still hasn't made up her mind because they've both done so many wonderful things for her. Making tea, bringing her tea cakes etc. She asks them to do a favor for her....

They finish up shopping in town. (I think she had to pick up more ribbons for gifts iirc.) Next thing you know, there is a runaway carriage barreling towards them.

Kate opens her eyes to see that Elbert is holding both her and a little boy in his arms and Ellis is reigning the horse and carriage in. She thanks Elbert and Ellis both. Ellis admits defeat because it was Elbert who rescues Kate like a prince and therefore, he is not a prince. (My heart omg.)

Elbert stops him saying he didn't get a chance to rescue Kate because Elbert directed him to stop the carriage and if the carriage hadn't been stopped, then there would've been more damage or worse. Therefore, it's Ellis for the win!

Later, Kate and Ellis are alone by the river and she is tending to his wounds.

Ellis: Even if you're not so gentle, I won't break you know.

FLASHBACK

Elbert: In the past, I accidentally stepped on Ellis' shadow during a mission.

Lord Elbert's ability is to invoke the most traumatic memory of the person's shadow he's stepped on.

Kate: So, what about Ellis?

Lord Elbert didn't answer my question.

But the silence was the answer itself.

Elbert: When I apologized, Ellis just forced a smile. (OMG, really my heart.)

FLASHBACK END

Ellis only thinks about making other people happy other than himself.

I think it also means not letting the other person understand his own pain and sadness.

Kate: Ok, it's not bleeding, but you should see Roger later, just in case.

Kate: Why did you say you wanted my chocolate cake?

Ellis: Eh.

Kate: Ellis you're a kind person who puts other people's happiness first.

Kate: If that's the case, I figured you'd give the cake to Lord Elbert to make him happy.

Ellis: You said that you'd like to see a fight over the chocolates with the maids at least once, right?

(Ah.)......(Pfft haha, they heard you my dear.)

Kate: So, you wanted it to make me happy.

At that moment, I felt as if the sunset on the riverside in front of me was shaking painfully.

Ellis: I wanted to make both you and El happy, so I was going to give it to El in the end.

Kate: That's just like you, Ellis.

As he gazed at the deep red surface of the water, Ellis' voices trailed off.

Ellis: I've always done that until now.

Ellis: Anything that I could give. I would give.

Kate: Anything?

Ellis: Before I met you, I had a slightly difficult mission to complete.

Ellis: I had to hide by myself in a ship's baggage storage area in order to gather information.

Since Ellis said it was a difficult mission, it must've been harsh.

Ellis: There was another man in the baggage storage area as well.

Kate: Who....

Ellis: A person's identity and background I didn't know.

Ellis: That person seemed to have been hiding for much longer than me, and was dazed from hunger and fatigue.

Ellis: So, I gave him all the candy and bread that I had.

(What?)

Kate: But, then what did you eat Ellis....

Ellis: Yea. For a moment there, I almost died.

Ellis: When I was almost in danger, Jude came for me.

Ellis: Jude was unusually angry at that time. "If you die, you don't have any children."///"If you die, I would have lost everything."***

Kate: That's right...even if I were Jude, I'd be angry.

Ellis: Hehe, I'll be in trouble if you get angry with me.

Ellis rearranged his fingers on his lap.

Ellis: I can understand why Jude was angry and the logic behind it.

Ellis: But I....I thought it would be okay.

Kate: Its...

Kate: Is it because the happiness of other's is more important than your own desires?

Kate: Ellis. I'm sure I wanted to give you the "favorite" from the beginning.

Ellis: If I say I want it, will you be happy?

Fin.

***The translation rendered Jude's line as being 'laid upon a woman's backside'. However, the same character "尻" was rendered as being 'laid upon a Kate's a**. Even though it's something my beloved crass would totally say, I decided on 'backside' this time around.

***The initial translation said: If you die, I would've lost everything. However, the line includes the character for child and a particle that includes it in a form set. I suck at particles, but I decided to go with: If you die, you don't have any children, because Jude would be worried about losing his childless assistant (whom is an asset that helps him in his goal to fulfill some almost unattainable promise). Childless Ellis = No kids to fulfill his place. (Idk I tried though).

[asvterias]

𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘴 ~ 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘢 𝘳𝘶𝘦

clarisse masterlist

warnings: none

pairings: clarisse la rue ✘ black!fem!demigod!reader (daughter of poseidon)

summary: clarisse accidentally confesses that she isn’t a good swimmer to her girlfriend and y/n offers to teach her.

word count: 1.9k+

tag list: @lvrue @kyuupidwrites @xanasaurusrex @urdeadpoet @aurorailvsm @quinnsadilla @st4rzl7 @p0rkbun @star-girl69 @aphroditesmoon @voidashh @lcvved @tinytea-biscut @dearlydarlings @rocknr0ll @nvirskies @k4zuhas-visi0n @urbisexualfriend @marlswhore @anominous-writer @lovelyy-moonlight @thegiganticgirlkisser @thewritingbarbie @apocalypticlibrary @solecitoszn @blackchubbyqueen @mira-belcul18 @sleighingstella @ampitrit3 @mthefae @drlover11037 @ratjoe @mag03 @kroumi @hoku-k @zhivaxo @lacytalks @kazerka @liv444me @korizzybee @mariposa555 @inejsknifes @cherriesnbutter @justintinderlake4 @natasha-took-fall-damage @lixtinystay @2k7-sparkles @importantpotato @laughingcheese037

author’s note: writing this drabble is kinda ironic considering i can’t even swim! sorry it took so long to publish this, writer’s block had me serious about this!

requested by an anonymous

being one of many and the youngest daughter of poseidon, the god of sea, had its perks.

from a young age, you were bonded with the ocean in unexplainable ways to your mom’s human mind. your mom refused to reveal your true identity, not because of possibly endangering you but simply wanting you to discover yourself.

you were taught the way of water, everything relating to aquatic life, different animals and plants, amazed by all types of species. studying, learning, and practicing the techniques of different wave currents and methods of using water to your advantage was your favorite way to bypass time.

unlike your girlfriend clarisse who was taught about being resilient, intimidating, and cold. she had no interest in studying or learning anything non-sports or non-fighting related. you could tell she wasn’t the best academically in school, but athletically…that girl was— woo, that’s another story for another time.

however when the two teen girls explore their friendship further, developing into a romantic relationship and a cute one at that. the two demigods shined a light on each other’s weaknesses, in hopes of better improvement and dimming their shared strengths, no longer making them stronger than necessary.

during one of your sneaking out espacades with your beloved girlfriend clarisse, you two met each other by the lake. whenever you couldn’t sleep properly, you’d find yourself stumbling towards this exact lake, finding your sense of comfort. clarisse caught on and soon joined you for this late-night lakeside reconciliation, so you wouldn’t be alone.

but then again, you never truly felt alone, not when the water was flowing beautifully underneath the magnetic moonlight and the breeze was cool.

this time was no different, sitting closely by each other, entrapped by each other’s presence with your toes buried in the sand.

staring ahead at the lake in complete silence, you loved the silence, especially at night. it gave you a clearer mind to reflect on and the ruffling waters were a hypnotic melody to your ears.

“i have a surprise for you,” you started, excitement laced in your tone.

“what is it?”

“it’s a gift that i spent all day working on,” you squealed.

“are we playing ‘guess the gift’ again?”

before you could reply to her question, a hermit crab crawling over caught your attention and you smiled. the tiny red hermit crab, despite its size and visibility under the moonlight, kept the bracelet crammed tightly in his front claw.

“did you command that hermit crab over here?”

“maybe…” you trailed off, grinning as you allowed the hermit crab to crawl in your hand. the sea animal dropped the baby blue decorated seashell bracelet in your hand.

“holy shit,” clarisse breathed out.

“you wanna say hi to hanna?” you eagerly asked, shoving the animal in your palm directly into clarisse’s face. she flinched at your sudden movements, skeptically staring at the pocket-sized defenseless creature.

“you named the hermit crab?” she raised an eyebrow.

“hanna,” you slowly enunciated, “her name is hanna the hermit crab,”

“my apologies,” she feigned bashfulness, now staring at the small sea creature, “hello, hanna the hermit crab,”

the hermit crab turned to you, blinking her small beady eyes at you once, and then faced clarisse again. her tiny legs felt ticklish against your palm every time she squirmed.

“it’s quite rude to not say anything back, hanna,” the la rue girl muses, “of course, you can’t reply back, you’re a damn animal.”

you scowled at her response, pinching her arm with your free hand.

“oh please, don’t tell me she can understand me now,”

“she can’t, but i can,”

hanna the hermit crab waved her giant front claw at clarisse and you giggled at the cute interaction.

“she said ‘hello back, strange human,’,”

“that’s it, i’m never speaking to another sea animal again,”

“yes, you are. that was your fifth time declaring that, nothing’s changing, we both know that,”

“well, i mean it this time,”

“sure, babe,” you hummed, certainly unconvinced by her declaration.

you kindly thanked the sea animal and placed it back on the sand, watching it scurry away. resting your head onto clarisse’s shoulder as you looped your arms together, feeling her curly hair shimmering down on your face.

“every day i’m more amazed by your abilities,” clarisse swoons, biting her lip, “the fact that you can talk to them or control them at your will. can you mind control every sea animal?”

“yes, i can, risse. me and percy haven’t tried to summon dolphins or sharks or orcas yet, but we’re willing to change that next time we visit an aquarium,”

“holy shit, my girlfriend’s a badass,”

“i guess i kinda am,” you blushed at the compliment.

clarisse accidentally admitted her main weakness, “did you know i can’t swim?” her eyes widened immediately after she spoke, not realizing her own words.

that statement heightened your curiosity, causing you to lift your head from her shoulder.

“are you serious, babe? you can’t swim, like at all?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow. she caught you by surprise with that random mention.

your beautiful masculine buff girlfriend can’t swim at all. with how the ares girl acts around camp, you thought she demolished every activity or sport this camp had to offer, but swimming blindsided her. out of all sports, swimming is recommended to be the most vital and effective sport, so it’d make sense to learn.

she gives you a death glare, shoving you a little harder than intended. “yeah i can’t swim, so what? don’t make it seem like a big deal.”

“it kinda is! what if we get into a war that requires us to swim?”

“then you’ll save me,” she shrugged her shoulders. “besides, that’s a very low possibility of us fighting in war requiring us to swim for our lives,”

“what if i’m not there to save you in time?” you rhetorically asked, placing your homemade seashell bracelet around her wrist.

she dangled the bracelet on her wrist, admiring it, smiling widely, “if you’re not there with me, then what reason do i have to be there?”

“c’mon i’ll teach you how to swim,” you suggested to your girlfriend, stretching your legs to stand. brushing off the sandy residue off your pants as you looked down at your girlfriend who kept her eyes trained on you. smiling sweetly in response, you offered a hand to her, looking down with a patient gaze.

“you’re gonna teach me to swim at night?” she was very skeptical, observing the familiar shadow of chiron and his upbeat huffs clicking against the ground. “i love you, angel, i really do, but i’ll take my chances,”

“would you rather it be during the day when everyone can see you?”

she pondered in thought, if other campers witnessed clarisse in a vulnerable state, her reputation might be at risk, and she didn’t want that. you had a strong point. she had a reputation to uphold. therefore, a decision was already made and clarisse wished she wouldn’t regret this.

“besides it’d be weird if you’re dating a daughter of poseidon and is unable to swim, water is exactly my expertise, it’ll be an absolute shame for you to miss out on,”

“yeah right, it’s your father’s forte,” she snorts.

“do you wanna know how to swim or not?!”

“no, not really,”

“well too bad, la rue, get your ass in the water now!” you demanded, narrowing your eyes and strictly pointing towards the lake.

“so demanding,” she playfully rolls her eyes.

“oh please, you love me more when i act like this,” you blow a kiss at her.

clarisse can complain all she wants but she definitely knows that she loves a woman in charge! especially her favorite girl, who goes by the name of y/n l/n, and no one else.

“let’s get this over with..” she grumbles, standing up to her feet, using your hands to pull her shirt over her head, and flinging it to the ground. you stared at her in adoration and shamelessly checked out her toned body.

“what, are you speechless all of a sudden?” she feigned innocence knowing your attraction to her body.

you stammer out a few words, letting the embarrassment overtake your features as clarisse chuckles at your sheepishness. as soon as the embarrassment washed over, you remove your pajama shirt, leaving you in your bra and pants.

the water splashes loudly because of the carelessly invading movements the two girls caused, disrupting the calm lake motion. not stopping until reaching a decent level, the water hitting slightly above your chest, immediately cooling you down.

“okay, just let go,” your hands travel to her waist, holding them gently, “feel yourself relax in the water and float.”

she heavily sighed, doing as carefully instructed and surprisingly managed it…for a good while.

“you must learn to stay afloat first, then i can teach you the basic swimming poses.”

“there’s different swimming poses?”

“no there isn’t,” you deadpanned.

despite her hard efforts, she couldn’t find the right mindset to relax.

“this isn’t working,” she groans, losing both her balance and patience, becoming instantly flustered by your soft touch, maintaining her weight.

“it takes time and practice.” you give a little nod, holding onto her back underneath the water, keeping her balanced.

“c’mon, you realize who you’re talking to, babe.”

“alright, let’s move on to another technique.” clarisse nods her head, agreeing with you.

to be honest, you’ve never taught anyone to swim nor were you taught yourself. as a result of your father’s heritage, swimming came naturally to you so there wasn’t anything to worry about.

teaching someone else to swim was considered to be quite a hassle, especially if that someone was impatient. but you wouldn’t want it any other way or with anyone else, you were doing splendidly with your favorite girl.

“do you wanna watch me float? maybe you’re a visual learner,”

“sure,” she shakes her head.

“my braids will certainly weigh me down after,” you rolled your eyes, “and i just got it done,” you complained, groaning throwing your head back.

“can’t you control the water mass in your hair?”

“oh, yeah, you’re right,”

once she stands up again, you start to float on the water, keeping your ears underneath the water and your face above the surface. you kept your legs closed and your arms spread out as clarisse shuffled closer. the water ruffles against your skin gently, silently rocking you with its movements.

turning your attention to your smiling girlfriend peering down at you, she bites her lip, admiring you.

“how are you so talented at everything?”

“just comes naturally to me,”

“it’s more than that, but you refuse to share your secret,” she commented.

“how about you learn how to float instead of flirting with me?”

“why though? i’d rather much prefer flirting with you,”

“and i’d rather much prefer you have survival skills in swimming,” you retorted, “flirting can’t save your ass,”

“it might with you,”

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

© asvterias, 2024. please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works onto any other platforms without my permission.

[whatacaitastrophe]

Is It Over Now - Chapter 3

Previous Chapter

Chapter Song Inspiration: "Young God" - Halsey

Chapter Warnings: Oral Sex, PiV Sex

Spotify Playlist: Here

Chapter Notes: i promise not every chapter starts with a flashback, and i wasn't planning on writing any of this from gale's POV, but he was like hey this is my story, too!!!

Chapter 3: Baby Girl, We're Gonna Be Legends

”I hope that wasn’t a goodbye kiss.” Fallon gently teases Gale with a pleading look in her eyes. He smiles back at her. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Gale stands up and extends Fallon his hand. “I want it to be perfect - to bond with you in the way the gods do…intertwining our spirits in visions of the Weave.” 

Fallon takes his hand and stands to face him, chewing on her lip. “I don’t need illusions. I want the Gale in front of me.” 

“Are you sure? I could conjure up anything you desire, and a few you could not. I could use The Weave to make us feel sensations beyond reckoning. I could not only woo you, I could wow you.”

“I want the real Gale - the man, not the fantasy.” 

“The old ways, then. If that is what you wish, so be it. A gesture for your comfort.” 

A four poster bed magically appears in the middle of the forest Gale has conjured, and Fallon falls back on the mattress, beckoning Gale to come closer. He obliges, approaching the foot of the bed and crawling up the mattress until he is on top of her. Fallon cups his face in her hands, and Gale is in awe. There are so many things he wants to say to her, but most of all, he wants to kiss her again. Their second kiss is far less chaste than the first, all heat and passion, like this could be the last chance they get. In their defense, it could be. Even before Mystra delivered her marching orders to Gale, every moment could have been their last. 

Gale leans forward and buries his face in Fallon’s neck, drinking in the smell of her, the taste of her skin on his tongue. The breathy moan she lets out goes straight to his cock, and he can’t help but smirk against her skin. It’s been a long time since Gale has been with someone like this. Not just in general, but without The Weave manipulating their bodies and surroundings into fantasies. Gale’s mouth begins to travel, peppering kisses across Fallon’s skin from her shoulders to the exposed skin of her chest and torso. Though he often teased Fallon for her need to loot every dead body they came across, he sure is glad that she took the time to steal her current wardrobe off of Minthara’s corpse. 

It was sinful, with the bodice accentuating her chest, and the tight leather hugging the curves of her hips and ass. Gale would be a liar if he said he hasn’t imagined slowly taking that outfit off of Fallon since the very moment she put it on, and not just because the way Astarion and Halsin stared at her body when they made camp makes Gale jealous. Gale’s hands make swift work of untying the laces on the very front of the bodice. 

“Undress for me, my love.” Gale requests, pushing himself off of Fallon just enough for her to move out from under his body and stand. Just as he’d hoped, Fallon makes a show of it all, and Gale struggles between looking back into her eyes, meeting her intense eye contact, and watching the fabric slowly fall away from her body until it’s pooled at her feet in the grass. 

For a moment, Gale is speechless as Fallon stands there. Everything about her is as perfect as Gale had imagined it would be. “You are,” he breathes. “Without question, the most exquisitely beautiful woman I have ever had the great pleasure of laying my eyes on.”

The moon is so bright that Gale can see her cream colored skin become a rosier hue when he compliments her, and Fallon laughs softly, averting her eyes. “Well, I’m no goddess.” She counters and Gale is off of the mattress and standing in front of Fallon again with a speed he didn’t know he was capable of. 

“Fallon, I need you to hear me when I say that every goddess, even Mystra, pales in comparison to the beauty standing in front of me right now.” His hands settle on her hips and he tugs her a little closer to him. “I wish you could see what I see, because standing here in the moonlight, you are absolutely radiant, and your beauty goes so far beyond your physical form.” 

Gale kisses sweetly. “You have a good heart, Fallon, and that is something that not many beautiful people can also claim. In the short time that I’ve known you, I’ve witnessed you countlessly run head first into situations that could get you killed, all because someone who couldn’t defend themselves needed your help. I’ve seen you weep when you can’t save everyone, and for innocent creatures and people who were already dead when we arrived. I see how much you care for myself and our companions every single day. It would be easy for you to keep us all at arms length and choose not to give a damn about who we are, but you do. It’s not just your physical beauty that makes you incredibly beautiful, but also your empathy for others. Your humanity.” 

“You’re just saying that.” She responds softly, averting her gaze from his again. Knowing what Gale has come to know about Fallon, her reaction is unsurprising, and it breaks Gale’s heart that she doesn’t see what he sees. He sighs sympathetically. 

“If my words aren’t enough, allow me to show you how beautiful I think you are. Allow me to prove to you how much you deserve to be adored. To be worshiped.” 

He doesn’t give her a chance to respond before pulling her close so her body is flush with his and kissing her deeply. He guides Fallon back to the bed he conjured as their tongues intertwine, and when her body stops moving, Gall pulls away so he can gently push her backwards onto the mattress again. There is no pomp or circumstance as he removes his own clothes, and his still-hard cock springs gratefully from the confines of the fabric that was previously holding it back. Not that Gale is in any sort of hurry to bury himself inside of her. No, he plans to make this last, to take his time, because it could very well be the last time.

Gale is not the only person in awe of the other, it seems. “How the fuck are you real?” She asks in disbelief, taking in his naked form. Gale does nothing but smirk at her in response and walks back towards her, crawling onto the mattress after her as she moves back so the upper half of her body is partly leaning against the headboard. Their mouths connect again with heated passion, and all Gale wants to do is touch every part of her skin that he possibly can. He needs to hear her moan again like she did the first time when his mouth was on her neck. No, he needs more than that, and he will not be satisfied until the woman below him is crying out in ecstasy. 

It’s likely that Gale could just lay there kissing her until the sun comes up, but he has other plans that involve his mouth elsewhere. His mouth slowly starts exploring the rest of her skin as he begins his descent down her body. Gale comes face to face with her breasts, and he closes his mouth over one and gently massages the other with his hand. “You know, not everyone is blessed with perfect breasts but my gods it’s like you were sculpted by the universe,” he lowers his mouth to her breast again and nips gently and her nipple. The sound that comes out of Fallon’s mouth is breathy, and Gale desperately needs to hear it again. “Every time you wear that gods-forsaken outfit you nicked off of Minthara, I imagine what it would be like to have my head right here, in this spot.” 

Gale switches sides so Fallon’s other perfect breast receives attention from his mouth. Fallon makes the same sound as before and Gale’s heart sings. Slowly, Gale continues peppering soft kisses and gentle love bites down her torso, until his mouth is hovering over the apex of her thighs. He uses his hands to spread her legs further apart, ignoring her sex for now so he can give her thighs the attention they deserve. “And these,” Gale plants kiss on her inner thigh, and then the other, and Fallon whimpers. “I’ve spent many a night imagining my head between these strong beautiful legs, with my hands holding them in place.”

Gale takes a moment to look up at Fallon when she whimpers again, and he can’t help but offer her a sly smile when he takes in the pleading look on her face. His mouth works its way back up to the apex of her thighs, and he plants one single kiss just above her sex. “And here?” Gale releases her legs with his right hand so he can run his thumb over her already slick folds, still avoiding the spot her desperate moan reveals she’d like him to be most. “Well, I’ve imagined what it would be like to bury my face in your cunt and taste you since the day we met.”

Gale doesn’t make her wait any longer before he lowers his mouth to her clit and sucks on it, swirling his tongue across it in slow circles. Fallon gasps. He can feel her body shift so her back is arched and the reaction his movements with his tongue illicit only spur him forward. Gale once joked with Fallon that he had a practiced tongue, and now that he has her, he’s determined to show her exactly what he meant. The smell of her, the taste of her, it’s all intoxicating and Gale laps at her clit like a dehydrated man just offered water for the first time in a millennia. He’s so in love with this woman, it’s stupid, and if he dies tomorrow, and the sound of her name on his lips is one of the last things he hears, then Gale will die a happy man. 

Gale adjusts his body just enough so he can slip two practiced fingers inside of her, pumping them in and out of her slowly, deeply, and he relishes in the way Fallon pushes her hips forward, begging him for more. Gale is all too happy to oblige and he picks up the speed of his fingers inside of her until her legs are shaking and her moans are leaving her mouth in quick succession. It’s not until then that he comes up for air and he looks Fallon in the eyes as his fingers continue to move. “My gods, you are beautiful. I love watching you fall apart like this. Are you going to come for me, my love?” Fallon is gripping the sheets with her hands and she nods desperately. 

“Please, Gale, I’m so close.” she begs and Gale gets lightheaded. Of all the things he’d expected this evening, he wasn’t sure Fallon begging was even on the list. Crying out his name in pleasure, surely, but begging? It’s almost enough to turn him back into an inexperienced teenager who might come simply from a stiff breeze hitting his cock right. “With pleasure.” he answers, his voice rough with desire. Gale dives back in, devouring Fallon with determination to coax her orgasm from her body. 

He doesn’t have to wait very long, and soon Fallon erupts with a sharp cry. Her entire body shakes as she moans his name. Much to his pleasure, she’s loud enough that it’s unlikely their companions back at camp didn’t hear her. Good. Maybe Halsin and Astarion will back the hells off with their staring and flirty comments now that Gale has claimed her. Fallon is his, and Gale Dekarios doesn’t share. Gale keeps his mouth on her as she rides out her high, only lifting his head when her body stills. He’s sure his mouth and scruffy beard are glistening with her orgasm, but Gale doesn’t care enough to wipe his mouth across his arm before climbing up the bed to capture Fallon’s mouth again. 

A shiver runs down his spine as Fallon’s hands begin to explore his body. Her nails and fingertips scrape against his torso roughly, and don’t waste much time roaming further down to his stiff cock, and Gale’s hips stutter against his will as her warm hand wraps around him. Fallon’s free hand presses against Gale’s chest and she pulls back from their kiss. “Let me return the favor. Please.” 

There’s that word again. Please. The desperation in her voice makes Gale moan, like she needs this as badly as he does. His mouth connects with the skin of her neck, and he bites down; maybe not as gently as he could have, but his ego needs to claim her right over the two puncture marks where Astarion drank from every couple of days. “Well, who am I to deny you?” He mutters, and he allows her to push him back so his back is flat against the mattress.

Fallon swings her legs across his thighs, and Gale decides right then and there that when the time comes, he needs her on top, riding his cock. Fallon moves down Gale’s body quicker than he’d done, but she does stop to press soft, long kisses on the span of his neck and chest covered by the orb, almost like she’s offering her mouth and kisses up to the Netherese orb as an offering to not take Gale away from her. She spreads his legs slightly to settle between them, and there is no teasing or anticipation. Fallon wraps her mouth around Gale’s cock and immediately begins to move her mouth along his shaft, and he bites back a loud moan at the feeling of the wet heat surrounding his cock. 

The way Fallon sucks his cock is absolutely filthy. It’s wet and messy, a mixture of her saliva and his pre-come coat his shaft and her hand at the base of it, pumping him dutifully where her mouth cannot reach. If Gale knew who taught her how to suck cock like this, he’d send them flowers. “Fallon,” Gale breathes heavily after what couldn’t have been longer than a few minutes. The fact that it’s been a while for Gale is truly showing now, but he’s too turned on to be embarrassed. “Not to look a gifthorse in the mouth, but if you don’t stop I’m afraid I’m not going to make it much longer, and I would very much like to fuck you, lest I not get another chance.” 

Her moan, only muted by his cock in her mouth, is guttural and the way it vibrates around him nearly sends Gale over the edge, but Fallon lifts her head with a pop. There’s a wild look in her eyes as she begins to remove herself from the position she’s in, but Gale reaches out to stop her, gripping her hips. “If I’m to die tomorrow, let the one of the last visions I think about when I go be your perfect body riding me with reckless abandon until we both forget our names. Please.” 

Fallon stares at him for a moment, slack-jawed and glossy-eyed. “Sorry, I think I just almost passed out,” she laughs. “That just might be the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me.” Gale’s laugh is low, and strokes her outer thighs with his hands. “Well then I shall endeavor to not die tomorrow so your brain short-circuits more often.” His words are playful, like he is still considering blowing himself up when they face Ketheric, but truthfully? The truth is that Gale decided against sacrificing himself the moment Fallon told him she loves him back. 

With patience Gale isn’t sure he would have been able to exude at this moment, Fallon climbs back up his body and positions herself above his hip. She aligns him with her center and slowly sinks down on his cock. They moan in unison as he fills her. Fallon sits still a beat too long, and Gale makes a face at her. He’s patience is spent, and Gale is no longer in the mood for teasing. “Fallon, please.” He does not have to ask her twice, and the gorgeous woman above him begins to ride him; slowly at first, but eventually her pace becomes as desperate as Gale feels, and the string of moans exiting her body are endless. She holds herself steady with hands on his chest as she bounces on his cock, and when she lifts one hand to run her fingers through her hair, Gale almost loses it. “You are the absolute picture of perfection. You feel perfect. If I could paint this moment, I would. Hells, Fallon.” Gale moans, and Fallon responds in kind, digging her nails into his chest, leaving little crescent moons on his skin.

Gale can feel his climax careening to the finish line, and he wants to be as close to her as possible. He sits up, adjusting their position so she is sitting in his lap comfortably with one arm wrapped around her back, and his fingers are tangled in her hair. He slips his other hand between them and caresses her clit dutifully until Fallon’s body begins to shake again. 

Gale and Fallon peak in unison, their bodies shuddering in time as they both moan each other’s names loudly, gasping for air between passionate kisses. Fallon rides him until they’re both completely spent, and it’s only then that Gale leans back again, taking Fallon with him and gently lifting her off of his lap. He maneuvers her body so she’s laying on the bed next to him. Their kisses become slower, gentler, and eventually Gale pulls back to kiss her forehead. 

Yes, if he dies tomorrow (by his own hand or someone else’s), this night is what he’ll picture in his final moments.

The memory fades and reality returns. He looks down at his spent cock and semen covered hand, almost in disappointment. Despite his best efforts, there is still an emptiness in his chest that only filled for as long as the memory lasted. Gale gingerly gets out of his bed and walks to the toilets to clean himself off. He stops long enough to look at his reflection in the mirror. A god stares back at him, but his expression is not the one someone would expect of a human who’d been given exactly what he asked for. His quest, his entire ordeal to become a god, was one giant test from Mystra herself. Would he learn from his mistakes, and hand over The Crown of Karsus to her? Or would he repeat history? 

As it turns out, the answer to both questions was “yes.” In a moment of clarity when face to face with Mystra, Gale realized there was a chance he could have both Godhood and Mystra’s favor. So he struck a bargain. Gale of Waterdeep got what he wanted, but in the end it came with a great cost. A greater cost than he could have ever imagined, but he’d been too hungry for the power. Gale sighs heavily and slowly exits the bathroom, heading for his study. There’s no way he’s going back to sleep now, so he might as well get some reading in. 

Only, he’s not alone for long. Gale senses her before he feels her arms wrapping around him from behind, or her mouth against her neck. “You’re up early.” She says softly. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” It’s not entirely a lie, but it’s not entirely true either. She presses her mouth to his neck again. “You should come back to bed then. Perhaps I can wear you out.”

Gale closes his eyes and takes a slow breath. He should have seen this coming. He should have thought of a better excuse, but even now the feeling of her mouth on his neck and her arms wrapped around him stirs something inside of Gale, even if he doesn’t want it to. 

When Gale opens his eyes, he’s mentally no longer himself. He’s a former version of Gale of Waterdeep, one who didn’t know any better, who didn’t know what it was like to experience true, unrequited love. The version that was wholly and unequivocally in love with the goddess beckoning him to her bed, not the one whose heart was torn in two.

Gale rises from his chair and turns to face the goddess, his goddess, and wraps her arms around her waist. Mystra kisses him deeply. “Make love to me, Gale of Waterdeep.” She murmurs against his lips.  

It’s almost as if she knows. Gale pulls away from her kiss and plasters a loving smile on his face. “With pleasure.”

Chapter List

[sweetbottletops]

We are experiencing Aya's villain origin story in real time.

Quite a different arrangement from when they had the RHCP fail for their first big concert "together". And while Aya would rather the short term upgrade from umbrella sharing to seat sharing with Mitsuki than have Narita there, I think he and Kanna are likely yuri enablers for the long haul.

Ch 81

Fuji Rock Festival '24. A real life festival and it seems like there's a lot of glamping that happens around it. I wonder how the Koga family does things. On a budget or all out?

Is Narita rich or something to make him think someone has festival tickets, lodging, and transportation money as teenager? And Aya, don't you have a full time job working for Mitsuki? They owe you.

This the most "dad" Uncle Joe has ever looked. What is with that festival...fit? Bucket hat...socks and sandals? NSYNC on top and RHCP on the bottom.

I feel like I should get this reference, but I'm all headachy today and should be in bed for my totality road trip, so right now it just sounds like she's either won a game show prize or possibly has been taken in as an apprentice.

"Was this manga always like this?" If you could only see inside Aya's mind, Mitsuki. It's been much much weirder.

Aya now has means, motive, and opportunity. Will we get a "and there was one tent" moment? Yuri Camp!

Boop your shoulder. You know festivals are really packed and scary at times. Better hold hands so you don't get lost.

Kanna thinks this is hilarious, but she hasn't seen Narita motion sick before.

Aya = Angry Mitsuki = Scared Joe = Annoyed Kanna = Trollolo

Has Narita even expressed what music he's into? He seemed more into fashion and relationship watching. Maybe that's actually what's got him excited. I assume he's going to be a helpful soundboard as Aya and Mitsuki hatch their separate plans to woo the other, but currently he's being the anti-tiny umbrella in this situation. That was not the thigh Aya wanted to be pressed against.

Now about this festival...how is the sleeping arrangement going to go down? Two tents? Two rooms? Boys vs Girls? Did Kanna's friends also hook them up with expensive lodgings?

It looks like we did a time jump to late July so she's really cutting to the chase at least. I like that we're going straight to a big event and heck, with four pages a week we could stay at the festival til real time July and I wouldn't mind.

[autisticlancemcclain]

The first sensation is Keith’s voice: “Hey, Lance.”

The second sensation is much less pleasant, and comes milliseconds after the first: a bundled-up wad of something hitting him square in the face, the shock of it knocking him right over.

“Ow,” he says on reflex, even though it didn’t really hurt. Keith snorts.

“I didn’t throw it that hard.”

“You didn’t have to throw it at all,” Lance grumbles, reaching down to grab the projectile. When his hands make contact with worn canvas, he freezes. He glances down at the fabric with wide eyes.

His jacket.

Did Keith —

No. He couldn’t have.

Right?

“Hey,” Shiro says, nudging Lance gently. “You good, buddy? You’re looking kinda pale, all of a sudden.”

Lance swallows. He can’t tear his gaze away from Keith, who is looking at him in confused concern. So is everyone else. Shiro places a hand on Lance’s shoulder, asking him if he’s okay again, but it sounds faint and distorted, like everything’s far away.

“Excuse me,” Lance blurts, then runs out of the room. He doesn’t slow down until he gets to his bedroom, throwing himself on the bed and spreading out his jacket in front of him with careful hands. He runs his palms over the fabric, over and over again, until the texture of the pitted canvas ripples and changes into soft seal fur.

He bites his lip. He can’t believe — his pelt. He’s become careless. When they first came to space, Lance wouldn’t even take the pelt — disguised as his green army jacket — off his person. He even wore it to sleep. Partly for the comfort of home, but mostly because he was terrified. Terrified he’d lose it, somehow, in the vastness of space, and never be allowed to return home. Never see his mother, or his siblings, or feel the cold currents tickling his flippers as he chased around his nieces and nephews. Never listen to whale song again, never tease the dolphins, never poke and prod at octopuses. Never nap in the heat of the warm sun as he dries off.

Never be himself again.

But over time, he learned to trust his team. Not with his secret — not yet — but enough to admit bits and pieces, press fragments of his experiences into their hands. The exhilaration of swimming with sharks that swarmed near the island. The welcoming feeling of home in the ocean. The freedom of speeding through the waves. Small things, quiet things, but truths to him nonetheless. He eventually worked up the courage to even part with his pelt, briefly, in training, or eating, or simply bonding. Found the strength to set the jacket out of arm’s reach.

Perhaps the choice was foolish.

Because now his second greatest fear has come true — he may not have lost his pelt, true, but he is now bonded in eternity with another. When Keith handed Lance his coat, he unknowingly claimed Lance, as a prize and as a mate.

A feat of fate and magic that cannot be undone.

His grandmother whispered stories of this to him, when he was a child. As the sun set on the waves, lighting them aflame, she pressed stories of other selkies who’d been careless with their pelts into his skin — selkies who’d left their caps for sailors to steal, left their coats to dry where dangerous fishers lay waiting. Selkies who’d been tricked by corrupt kings or wooed by charming men, only for those men to steal their pelts and sell them to lands far away. Even now, the terror he’d felt as a child — of losing such a huge part of himself to a stranger — had never left. What would he do if some selfish human took his coat? Even if they returned it to him eventually — he’d always be bound to them. Should they move him away from the seas, he would have no choice in the matter. He would never truly be free again, should a human hand him his coat.

Sometimes, late at night, when he was already anxious and knew only how to make it worse, he’d imagine such a future. A future where he’d carelessly leave his coat unguarded for someone to pick up. To take it for themselves, or even just hand it back to him from where he left it. A future where he was a slave, then, to their whims. That future terrified him. The mere thought would make his heart pound and his blood race and his fingers clench together. Chained to another, he’d think. What a horrible fate.

But he was chained, now. He was Keith’s, in all forms. As a human and as a seal and as a selkie, he belonged to the other man. He belonged no longer to himself.

The notion didn’t scare him like he thought it would. Despite the bonds now tying him together, he did not feel trapped, like he expected.

“Lance?” A knock on the door startles him from his thoughts.

Speak of the devil.

“Are you okay, man? I didn’t mean to hurt you, with the jacket. Did you get a zipper to the eye, or something? I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Lance says. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“‘Cause you don’t sound fine, really.”

“I am.”

Lance holds his breath. If he strains his ears, he can hear Keith’s gentle breathing from behind the door, the quiet rustling of his clothes as he shifts slightly.

“…Can I come in?”

Can Lance even refuse him? For all the stories his grandmother told him, he doesn’t actually know the logistics. Is it possible for him to refuse a request from Keith? Does he have any autonomy, outside his own mind?

“No,” he says, to test it. He squeezes his eyes shut, prepared for — for anything, really. Excruciating pain. A burning sensation, perhaps for his pelt to shrivel into scraps.

But no pain is forthcoming. The only thing that happens is Keith’s simple ‘okay’ from behind the door.

“Could you come out, then? We’re all kind of worried about you. You were really pale.”

Now that Lance knows he’s allowed to refuse Keith, any fear left evaporates.

He’s safe. It’s okay.

“Actually, I changed my mind. You can come in. It’s open.”

Keith doesn’t hesitate before opening the door, but he steps in the room cautiously.

“What happened?”

Lance bites his lip. What did happen? What can he say, to make this make sense?

The truth?

“It’s…strange,” Lance says eventually. “The story.”

Keith steps closer. “I don’t mind strange.”

Lance looks closely at Keith’s face. He looks — determined. Brow furrowed, arms crossed, mouth set in a deep frown. Once, Lance thought this expression was judgemental. He’s since learned that Keith simply suffers from a resting bitch face.

“You know how you’re not human?”

Keith snorts, his frown smoothing into a look of fond amusement. “I do remember that, yes. Kind of hard to forget.”

Lance grins sheepishly. “Right.” His grin vanishes as he tries to figure out how he can even word this properly. “It’s — I’m not sure how to say this.”

“Hey,” Keith says, closing the distance and sitting next to Lance on the bed. Unknowingly, he sits in between Lance in his jacket, one hand on the hood, making himself into a metaphor of the situation Lance has found himself in.

His pelt, no longer attached to him, but to Keith.

“It’s going to be fine,” Keith continues, putting a hand on Lance’s thigh, just above his knee. The touch burns. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. We’ll figure it out. Lance and Keith, neck and neck, remember? I’m right with you.”

Lance smiles tightly. Keith has gotten much better at comforting people.

“I’m not human.”

He’s afraid to look at Keith. Afraid to see the expression, there, the potential rejection. After all, they’ve known Keith isn’t human since their first couple months in space.

Lance has hidden this from them for so long. How could anyone on the team be anything but angry with him?

“Well. I can say with certainty that I didn’t see that coming, somehow.”

Lance braves a look at Keith to see him looking shocked, certainly, but not — angry. Not betrayed.

“I’m a selkie.”

Keith’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

“I was expecting that even less.”

Lance laughs, but it’s empty.

“That’s, um. That’s not the worst part.”

Keith’s eyebrows climb even higher. “What is the worst part?”

“What do you know about selkies?” Lance says instead of answering. To his credit, Keith rolls with the slight subject change.

“Uh, part seal, part human, right? Human unless you’re wearing your coat, wherein you become a seal?”

Lance nods. “Pretty much. What happens — do you know what happens if a selkie loses their coat?“

“Then you can’t become a seal, right?”

“And we’re exiled from the ocean and our families, yes.”

Keith grimaces. “Jesus. You still have your coat, though, right?”

Lance stares at Keith’s hand, still on his thigh.

“That’s the thing,” he says.

Keith looks at him in alarm. “You lost your coat?!”

“No, no, I didn’t lose it,” Lance rushes to reassure. He bites his lip. “Well, not exactly.”

“Lance, what happened?”

Lance takes a deep breath. He might as well come out and say it. “‘Losing’ our coats is a very loose term. It can really be anything from genuinely misplacing it, or briefly setting it down. It isn’t always a problem — obviously I can’t take my pelt everywhere — but if someone were to find my coat, or pick it up, then it would be lost to me. They would own it. And by extension, own me. Kind of, anyway.”

A look of dawning horror descends on Keith’s face. “Today. In the common room. I threw you your jacket.”

Lance takes a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Lance, I’m so sorry.” Keith looks ashen. “Fuck, Lance, is there any way to undo it?”

“It’s not — it’s not that bad,” Lance says.

“It’s fucking horrible, Lance!” Keith grips his hair tightly, looking at Lance with wide, guilty eyes. “I didn’t — I took your pelt away from you!”

Something about Keith’s panic makes Lance calm. Suddenly, he feels completely at ease.

“You didn’t know, for starters. Besides, I actually… I think it might be okay. Really. You know the stories where sailors intentionally steal selkie’s caps so they’re forced to marry them?”

“Yeah, Lance, I do! And now I’m the jackass sailor!”

“No, you’re not,” Lance says firmly. He grabs Keith’s hand and grips it tightly. “Listen to me, okay? The sailors in the stories — they did it on purpose. They had the intent to hurt and control their wives. It’s the same in all my grandma’s stories, too — any selkie who has their pelt picked up by someone else is bound to their will, and it’s always a tragedy for them.”

“How is that helpful, Lance? How is that good?”

“Listen to me,” Lance repeats. “Did you try to trick me?”

“No.”

“Did you intentionally steal my coat so I was bound to you?”

“No.”

“Do you want to forbid me from seeing my family ever again so I am forced to stay with you?”

“What? Of course not!”

“Then I think we will be fine, Keith. You’ve already returned my pelt to me. As far as I can understand, the only thing is —” Lance blushes. “Um, the only thing that changes, I think, is that we’re married, by selkie standards. I am bound to you, fatefully and magically.”

Keith blushes, too. “Oh.”

“And I tried refusing your request, earlier, and it was fine. I’m not stripped of my free will, or anything.”

“Oh.”

The silence sits between them for several moments. Lance isn’t quite sure what to do next. He definitely didn’t plan this far ahead.

“Well, that settles it, then,” Keith says. He tugs Lance’s hand, which Lance realises right then is still very much entwined with Keith’s and has been for the last who-knows-how-long. “Let’s go.”

“Settles what? Go where?” Lance asks, even as he follows Keith. He grabs his coat with his free hand, following Keith out the door.

“Well, we should get human-married too,” Keith says matter-of-factly. His face is still red, but his eyes are set and stubborn, and he looks as determined as he does for every mission.

Lance makes an embarrassing squawking noise.

“What?”

“It’s not fair that we’re only married by your standards,” Keith insists. “If you’re going to be my husband, we’re doing things all the way. We’re going to get human married. Well, as human-married as we can be, in space. I’m pretty sure Shiro is ordained, and I’m positive Hunk could make us some rings —”

“Keith, hold on a damn second!”

Keith finally pauses, looking back at Lance and seeing his horribly red face and general air of mortification.

“We can’t just — we can’t just do that!”

“Why not?”

“That’s not —” Lance’s mouth snaps shut. Now that he’s actually thinking about it, for a second, it’s really not a horrible idea.

Except for one problem.

“I don’t want you to be stuck in a marriage with me because of a stupid magic spell outside of your control,” Lance admits quietly. “It’s not fair to you. What if you fall in love for real, someday? But you’re stuck with me?”

Keith softens immediately. He tugs Lance close to him, putting a gentle hand on his cheek.

“Lance,” he says. His eyes are soft — loving, even. “I don’t want to marry anyone else. Ever.”

Lance feels tears pricking at his eyes, but he’s not sure why. “You don’t — you don’t know that. I’m a mess, Keith. Why would you ever want to be tied to me?”

Keith’s thumb runs gentle lines over his cheekbone.

“I have been tied to you for as long as I can remember,” he whispers.

Lance swallows. “That can’t be true.”

“It is. For as long as I have known you, I have been drawn to you. Everything you do, I have wanted to be a part of. Lance —” he smiles wryly — “I followed you to space. My fate was entwined with yours the moment we argued in the Garrison detainment facility. There’s no getting rid of me.”

Lance laughs — a broken, teary thing, but a laugh just the same. “You really want to fall in love with me? Are you sure?”

“Baby,” Keith whispers, leaning so close Lance can feel the heat of his breath, “I’m already halfway there.”

There’s a certain finality Lance feels, when Keith finally closes the distance. Like a string finally joining two ripped pieces together.

Lance kisses him again, just to make sure the pieces stay.