#and since it was my first character it was all clumsy and I never felt solid in them until it was over

[stardustedknuckles]

Most of the way through creating a new dnd character and why are they all boys except my changeling who was everything. I'm not transmasc. I don't want to be a boy necessarily. I am not attracted to dudes. And yet. These are my boys and I care them.

Ramblings about the newest boy under the cut.

He's an Eladrin and I thought about making him nonbinary but when I picture him I see his face and it's his. Now - he's not cis, but it is still very much his face. Conceptually he started out as "how can I make a jedi in 5e" and after about seventeen class combinations and a headache I chatted with the DM and a backstory took shape that informed my class choices. I was originally going to give him a level in wizard (not everything is about optimization and it worked for the initial idea - also! Monk with shield? Killer.) but the synergy very simply was not there. He's about 35, which is quite young for a race that is functionally immortal (within the fey realm anyway). The world we are playing in was broken a long time ago into shards, which function a bit like planes, and the walls between the shards are made of time. When the world broke, my 12-ish year old boy ran with the rest of the people of his home and ended up in a fog, where he walked and walked for hours. When he emerged from the fog, a thousand years had passed and he was alone in a new and fractured world. He was taken in by a couple who used to be adventurers (a rogue and a wizard, lesbians) and raised in the city where they lived for 15-20 years. As far as he knew, his world was gone forever. As far as anyone knew, really. There are rumors of eladrin locked away, sequestered in a safe kingdom ruled by the star-queen, but who and what he is remains a mystery to most.

I think in his culture, Eladrin become adults when they first manifest the magic of the feywild they live in. For most, that happens around age 100, usually in the form of becoming a druid or ranger or some such, and at that point they receive an adult name. My boy is in his mid-thirties or so, but the thing about Eladrin and elves in general is that they move on a time scale slower than we can really conceptualize. My boy was raised by people with shorter lifespans. He grew up around people who move at a much faster pace. So for all these years, since he was about 20, he's been going to the local monks for training to focus his mind. He only needs to trance for four hours, so going for moonlit walks to the monastery several nights a week provides him with clarity and a sense of intent for his body. For the last few years, he's been going out some nights to fight low-level monsters and problems the city faces. Masked, silent, but considered something of a folk hero (your friendly neighborhood Eladrin). That's how he's gained experience. On the anniversary of the day he turned up in this world, the one time a year he permits himself to dive deep into what memories he has and revel and mourn by turns, he's practicing his forms and meditating on his memories of his mother the Wolf of the Wilds (druid) and a punch he throws comes with a lungful of fey spring surrounding him as a blast of dewy morning air rushes from the end of his fist. He hasn't smelled those trees and that damp, early morning light since he was truly a child and it starts to dawn on him that somehow, some way, he has connected with the magic of home just by holding the memory close for all this time and letting it flow through him instead of trying to forget it and move on. Suddenly the rumors of other Eladrin matter. Suddenly the idea that the place he came from could have survived the calamity in some way is lodged in his mind and he can't let it go. If the magic is in him, he thinks, it is still coming from somewhere that must still exist to grant it. He spent so long becoming at peace with the thought of being cut off from it when it was destroyed, but here it is.

He tells his parents he needs to go and they support him entirely. By this point they are too old to make this journey with him, or so they say, but two retired adventurers can sense when it's time for someone to have one of their own. He promises to come back, hugs them both on the doorstep, and sets out to run into the other (extremely magical) chucklefucks the other players are making.

I care him. I can't wait to get to know him better.

[knavesflames]

Hello, I hope your day goes well as you're reading this!

If your request is still open, can I request touch deprived! Arlecchino and Touch deprived! Reader? Like reader is very clingy and affectionate to her closest friends because she's been deprived of physical affection since she was younger, and Arlecchino who's also touch deprived but unlike reader who has no problem with physical affection, she finds it hard to do it, but when she meets reader who's hugs are so comfortable she's grown addicted to it and craves her gentle touches more and more, thank you! Have a great day or night!

(I realise I’m apologising on every post for the late ones, but I’m almost caught up to a reasonable delay) hi anon!! I feel this hard, I am so affectionate because I was touch starved as a child. Though, I focused this writing piece more on Arlecchino. I love exploring her and her being in character and slightly OOC too. (She’s my comfort character, can you guys tell?) thank you for the ask!

Word count: 1k

Content: fluff, Arlecchino is touched starved, she loves you

Nsft utc!

Arlecchino and you have come from completely different backgrounds (that are unfortunately all too similar as well). You worked well together even so, your routines matching each other, the same sense of humour. By that, I mean, you joked, her lips barely turned up, and she hummed in response (which is equivalent to your wheezing on the sofa over.. a silly cat?). The point is, you worked. You both made sense together. Except one, tiny little detail.

You loved physical touch, and she despised it. Once you discovered how it felt, you were obsessed. You loved the way your body was enveloped by arms that seemed like they’d block out the whole world for you.

Arlecchino hated physical touch. She isn’t used to it, she grew up with her horrifying excuse for a Mother, and physical affection was used often as manipulation rather than anything else, she saw that much with what happened to her dear, dear friend (who haunts her dreams).

The first time Arlecchino held you was a year into your relationship. She awoke during the night to an empty bed, and when she made her way towards the living room, she saw you, in tears on the sofa. A bad dream, you had said, and nothing more. Arlecchino saw the way your body was almost aching for some sort of touch, and despite the discomfort, her arms wrapped around you. Awkward, clumsy, and a little bit forced, but she hugged you. She had not hugged someone since she was sixteen. Without a word, her thumb stroked against your arm, and she felt the way your body slumped against her body. She felt like a burning fire, you realised, most likely due to the flames running through her veins, but you welcomed it nonetheless.

She began to notice that holding you in her embrace was not as torturous as she assumed. Arlecchino held you until you fell asleep.

Her embraces were few and far between, reserved only for special moments or moments where she can see you need them. Her facial expression never changes, but over time, she becomes slightly more comfortable with every hug. She ended up craving your embraces, the way your hand gingerly caresses her cheek and your lips on her skin, the gentle squeeze on her arm when you go past her. She wanted so desperately to associate touch with you instead, someone she knows could never hurt a spider.

Eventually, she begins allowing it more and more, and even begins silently hinting when she wants one by sighing slightly louder, or grumbling a bit when things go wrong, only to feel a fuzzy warmth inside when you smile at her and give a gentle touch. Both you and Arlecchino wonder if she will one day make the first move.

Arlecchino does not know why she dislikes physical affection so much. She enjoys buying gifts she knows you will cherish and love instead, doing things at a distance. This was never supposed to be anything more than a fling, she didn’t want investment, she didn’t want any affection to be returned, but she fell for you, and hard. She dislikes how vulnerable she has become around you, but a part of her deep down inside of her likes it too. Arlecchino is scared you will leave, that you will ruin her one day, and she feels like it won’t happen if she doesn’t let on how hard she has fallen. (Everyone knows and says nothing.)

Perhaps she prefers affection the way she does, unrequited and with little investment, is because some part of her craves a love so great that it would tear her apart, and that frightens her. She does not know how to receive love, yet she still wants a love that will consume her entire being and burn hotter than the flames that course through her veins with every beat of her slowly-thawing heart. You are thawing her, she knows that much.

The weather chills the way her touch grows warmer, and winter comes quickly. The winter in Snezhnaya was cold and biting, and despite her accommodating her home for you (she clearly does not need it) by lighting the fireplace and leaving you blankets, the cold still finds its way into your bones, leaving you shivering. One night, when it is the coldest night of the year, you find yourself unable to sleep at all. You lay awake in the dark, thinking about your past the way you always do at night, shivering so hard you’re practically vibrating.

At some point, you hear her stirring, and you try to quiet yourself, to make sure she can continue sleeping. She noticed the second she opened her eyes, though. Doesn’t she always? She is glad you are pretending to sleep so you do not see the hesitation in her eyes before she snaps herself out of it and does what you both want her to. Wordlessly, she shuffles a few inches closer and her arm wraps around your midsection, dragging you closer until her body is wrapped around yours. Arlecchino, being the attentive person she is, notices your smile and sigh of relief and the way your shivering stops. She notices the way you nestle further in once you know she’s okay with it, and she notices when your breath falls into a deep rhythm.

It is her turn to stare at the wall, her heart beating faster than usual, the only giveaway of any of her feelings. Slowly, her arms snake around you until she’s holding you so tight you can’t move even if you wanted to. Her breath is visible when she exhales, when she lets her body finally relax in the company of another. Arlecchino buries her face into your hair, smelling your shampoo. The smell makes her drowsy, she tells herself (it is not the smell, it is that after so many years, her walls have crumbled completely), and she finds her eyes drooping until she, too, falls into the throes of sleep.

Arlecchino sleeps the best she ever has. Arlecchino has her first night of no nightmares since she became the poor, mad, cursed knave. Arlecchino does not feel so cursed when you are beside her.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Things Are Changing (Part 14)

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Jason waited at the bar, tapping his fingers on a pint of beer he was too nervous to actually drink. Danny had gone out with the birds of prey tonight to either look after, or make a mess of, crime alley in his absence. He’d find out which one in the morning, though he trusted Danny to keep most of the Chaos under control since he loved their home almost as much as Jason did. 

He wasn’t nervous about what they were doing, he was nervous about meeting Roy again. Which was probably why he was early for the meeting, early enough to get a beer that was no longer as cold as it had been. He sighed at himself and took a sip. 

“Hey buddy,” Roy greeted, biting back a chuckle at the way Jason jumped. 

“Damn you and your light steps. You'd think after growing so much you'd make a little more noise,” Jason sighed, taking another sip from his beer before getting up and hugging Roy so tightly it made him wheeze. “It's good to see you too.”

“Damn, you got strong,” Roy gasped, patting Jason's back awkwardly. “You were such a scrawny kid too.”

“Ya,” Jason chuckled, putting Roy down again. He stepped back a little while Roy ordered a beer and glanced around for a more secluded table where they could talk a little more openly. Once Roy had his beer Jason jerked his chin towards the table, Roy nodded so Jason led the way over to it and they sat together. “It was from being malnourished as a kid, but a dunk in the pits seems to have repaired a bunch of that shit and I absolutely shot up! 

“It was kinda weird because for the first… year there I was barely conscious so when I finally came back to myself it was already to a body that was so much larger than the one I was used to. The LOA had been drilling me on techniques and shit so unconsciously I knew my new size and strength but anytime I tried to do something and thought even a little to hard about it I’d be so fucking clumsy! And you wouldn’t believe how many doorways I hit my head on before I got used to this height,” Jason chuckled, and Roy laughed along with him.

“Damn that's crazy, but also I totally get it. I was kept unconscious by Cadmus for years, when I finally got out of that fucking tube I’d lost my arm,” he held up his prosthetic, which was so good Jason had barely noticed it before. “And my muscles were so atrophied moving around felt nothing like it used to. I didn’t grow That much but it still… it was so fucking weird.” He sighed and took a bigger gulp of his beer, it clearly wasn’t easy to think about still.

“That’s fucked up,” Jason sighed, patting Roy’s shoulder. “Cadmus are a bunch of bastards. If you ever want help blowing up any of their shit let me know. I’m pretty good with explosives and guns now, and Danny would help too, and let me tell you,” Jason whistled softly and gave an almost feral grin. 

“Both you and Dick always go for the powerful ones huh?” Roy cackled, elbowing him.

“Hey! To be fair to me I didn’t know he was this powerful when we got together! I knew that he had a healing factor but that was all I knew until after we moved in together.” Jason said with a dramatic pout. 

“Still, I bet you picked up on the vibe,” He said and Jason sighed because he couldn’t refute that.

“What about you though? You said Lian’s mom is in prison now but who was she?” Jason asked, he figured it was fair game after the teasing about his own relationship, though he second guessed himself when he saw Roy sigh and slump a little.

“Cheshire,” he murmured, tracing the lip of his glass with a finger. 

“No shit!” Jason breathed, shocked but at the same… she was an interesting character, Jason knew she wasn’t all bad, and she was pretty.

“Ya, and she’s a good mom. She adores Lian, but you know how she and Artemis grew up right? They never really had a chance. I tried for years to keep her with us, but I don’t think she can get out of the life for real when she doesn’t know anything else. I can’t keep waiting for her, me and Lian, we gotta move on and make the best of things you know?”

“Ya, I get that, Do you have anyone else in your life now though? Since I’m assuming you and Cheshire aren’t really a thing anymore?” Jason asked curiously. 

“No I haven’t,” Roy said with a little shrug. “I tried at first you know? Especially since people kept saying Lian would need a mom, but dating with a kid is hard. I’d rather just focus on her then try to chase any skirt. Artemiss lives with us off and on so it’s not like Lian doesn’t have a female role model, me and Artemiss just don’t fit together. We tried to kiss one and it felt so fucking wrong! She’s like my sister.”

“I’m glad you’ve got support, and you’re doing great. If you ever need any help I can give, just let me know okay? Maybe it’s kinda sad to say since we haven’t talked in years, but you’re still my best friend.” Jason admitted, shifting awkwardly in his seat.

“Nah, it’s not that weird, you might still be my best friend too,” Roy said with a wry little smile and a shrug. “Sad… maybe, but honestly I’d say we’re both pretty fucking sad already.”

“Well, you’re not wrong, so cheers to that,” Jason laughed and they clinked their glasses together, giving each other sardonic smiles. 

They were quiet for a moment, just drinking their beers before Roy put down his drink and cleared his throat. “So, I assume Danny is your boyfriend I’ve heard so much about?” 

“Ya, that’s him. He’s been with me a long time, even before we started dating. He’s… He’s absolutely amazing Roy, I’m not sure I deserve him,” Jason sighed.

“Oh come on now, of course you do, you-” Roy started but Jason was shaking his head and biting the inside of his cheek.

“There’s a real power imbalance Roy, and you wouldn’t think so given how physically powerful he is, but that doesn’t really matter. What matters more is he worked for me before we got together, and he’s so fucking broken after everything he’s been through. And I’m not kidding Roy, what he’s been through makes what happened to both of us look like a vacation. He sees me as his saviour, he’s said multiple times that he would do anything for me and he means it. 

“Roy…” Jason bit his lip, he hadn’t admitted this to anyone, hadn’t talked about it with anyone. Suddenly he was nervous as hell someone would overhear. “Do you mind if we go back to one of my safehouses to talk about this actually?”

“Sure, you got one nearby? We almost should have started there honestly,” Roy agreed, already pushing himself away from the table. 

“Ya, probably,” Jason chuckled awkwardly, putting down some money for their drinks and following Roy out. “There’s one in walking distance.” 

Neither of them spoke again until they were inside and settled on the beat up couch. “So, what were you going to say?” Roy prompted and Jason groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. 

“I’ve had some serious anger issues since coming back, the Lazarus pit really did a number on my temper and my self control. Danny never defends himself. He’ll defend other people if he thinks I’m going overboard. But I don’t know if he has any self worth beyond what he thinks he can do for me you know? I love him, and he loves me and I love how devoted he is, but he’s almost too devoted you know?” Jason said, having thought better of actually admitting to beating Danny.

“Oh shit man, ya, that’s… complicated,” Roy said with a sympathetic frown. “I’ve never had to deal with anything like that, I don’t really know what to tell you, except I guess, encouraging him to make his own friends and shit, and try to be worth his loyalty?” 

“Ya, I’ve been trying,” Jason sighed, rubbing his face again and ruffling up his hair. “I can’t push him away, both because I love him and I don’t want to, and because he’s explicitly told me losing me would break him, like actually kill him.”

“That’s fucked up,” Roy agreed uncertainly. 

“Ya… But I mean other than that things are great. And He’s hot as hell,” Jason joked, trying to lighten the mood again after all that. It wasn’t fair to have Roy to have any actual advice, this situation was so far outside the realm of the normal.

“Ya? I believe you, the crazy ones usually are,” Roy joked back, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “But pics or it didn’t happen.”

Jason laughed and pulled out his phone, swiping through the pictures he had of Danny, and of Danny and himself. Most of the pictures on the camera were of Danny honestly, and not all of them were fully appropriate. Danny liked to feel watched during sex and the camera would do.

“Damn, he is hot,” Roy agreed with a low whistle and punched Jason’s shoulder lightly. “Good for you dude.

“I can’t wait for you to meet him, you’re going to love him I’m sure. And hey, if you do like him, we like sharing,” Jason said with a meaningful little smirk that made Roy blush and choke. Jason laughed softly at him and switched apps to text Danny he was good to come join them now when he was ready too.

----------

Danny was having fun running with the birds of Prey, they were busting up a trafficking ring Seline had found and doing a damn good job of it too he’d say! The girls were responding better to the ladies and Danny’s obviously queer self than they might have to the bats, and none of the traffickers had stood a chance against them!

Once it was done they went their separate ways, Harley and Salena wanted to make sure the girls got to a trusted shelter safely, and Ivy wasn’t really a people person so without her girlfriend there to help she left quickly too. Danny didn’t mind, he was just waiting for Jason to text him it was alright to come back, it shouldn’t be that much longer. He had already gotten a text that the visit was going well, which made him smile and eased his worry. 

He was just gazing up and the smog covered sky, considering going for a fly to see the stars when he heard a thump on the roof behind him. Danny had a bad feeling about who that was, since either of the brothers would have texted him before showing up. He sighed heavily and turned around seeing Batman looming on the other side of the rooftop. Though maybe it was Danny’s imagination that his posture was more uncertain then it had been before?

“What do you want?” Danny drawled, looking back up at the sky.

“I just want to talk,” Batman said, and Danny definitely wasn’t imagining that his voice sounded softer and less rough. “I… misjudged you at first, I couldn’t accept what Jason is capable of now and you were an easy scapegoat. I understand now that… Well, that it’s not your fault.”

“Huh,” Danny sounded, blinking in surprise and looking back at Batman consideringly. That hadn’t been what he expected. “Well, thanks I guess.”

“Constantine thinks he knows what you are.”

Danny barked a laugh and leaned back a little. “So what’s the old magician’s theory?” He asked, cocking his head to the side with a knowing little smirk. 

“He says you're a halfa, the first one in thousands of years,” Batman shared, and Danny froze for a moment. 

“Huh, I hadn’t expected him to get it right,” He sighed sitting down on the edge of the roof and propped his elbows on his knees. 

After a moment of hesitation Batman came closer and sat down next to Danny, still out of arm's reach, which he appreciated. “I’m sorry for what happened to you, truly. And I’m sorry about what my colleagues said, whether the beings of the Infinite Realms are threats or not, it was an incredibly inappropriate response.”  

“If you just came to apologize, then apology accepted, and you can go now,” Danny said, giving Bruce a suspicious look. 

“No, that’s not all,” Bruce said, steepling his fingers and leaning forward on his knees. “Constantine told me that according to legends Halfas were creatures of balance, guardians of sorts. Do you have any way to learn about your… cultural heritage?” 

“Some of the ancients lived when halfas were still around. Frostbite and Clockwork have told me some. I’m still very young, I’ve been dead less than 6 years-” He noticed Batman wince slightly but ignored it- “It’ll take me a long time to grow into whatever it is I’m supposed to be.  Don’t you hold your breath when I do though. Balance and Justice aren't the same things after all. If I do ascend I’ll be fighting against you as often as I’m on your side I expect,” he chuckled.

“Right,” Bruce sighed. The disappointment in his voice made Danny cackle, though he muffled it with a hand since Batman was playing nice. “Well, the Justice League have a few supernatural consultants on call if you need to talk to someone. And if you need any help, really, let me know.” He stood up and held out a card. “Not that you need it with how close you are with both my-... All of my sons, but if you need any help. Call me. Being alone isn’t easy.”

“I absolutely won’t, but thank you,” Danny said, but after a moment of hesitation he slid the card into one of his pants pockets. Batman seemed satisfied with that, nodded to him. “And I’m not alone, I have Jason.” 

Batman froze for a moment, looking at Danny with wide eyes before Danny realized how that had sounded. He shook his head with a laugh. “No, Jason isn’t a halfa. His resurrection was under completely different circumstances! He’s got a bit of the Realms in him, but it doesn’t flow through him like it does me. He’s still, like, 85% human.”

“That… That’s good,” Batman sighed, his shoulders slumping a little.

“Did you have any more questions?” Danny prompted, cocking his head. 

“You offered help with any Realms beings. Do you expect we’ll have any trouble?” Batman asked, cocking his head a little. 

“Maybe,” Danny said with a little shrug. “It depends if the GIW still has an active portal somewhere, and how good their security is on it. Must be better than my parents used to be or we’d already be up to our eyeballs in confused ghosts, but it’s always a possibility.” He noticed the considering look Batman was giving him and gave a crackling laugh; “I haven’t been back to the realms in years. If anything’s going on there I don’t know about it. Though I’m sure Clockwork knows where I am if they really need me.” 

“Right, thank you for the offer,” Batman sighed and stood up. “And just think about my offer alright? If you need help, or protection, call. Not just from the GIW.”

Batman hesitated, opened his mouth to say something else and then sighed and shook his head. Whatever it was he seemed to have thought better of it as he turned away with a swish of his cape and grappled away. Dramatic bastard. 

Danny chuckled and shook his head at the older hero’s behaviour and pulled his phone out again. He had a text from Jason, telling him which safe house he and Roy were hanging out at and that he should come. And maybe… if he wanted to, to bring lube and the three of them could have some fun. 

Danny grinned sharply and licked his lips beneath his muzzle, well he’d just swing by their nest on the way over then! He texted Jason he would be there soon, and asked if they’d need condoms too.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Darlin’, Darlin’

Pairing(s): Jacob Black x Swan!Reader, Jacob Black x Bella Swan, Edward Cullen x Bella Swan

Warnings: wolf imprinting, scenting, makeout, agedup!jacob, hurt&comfort, one night stands, changed it a little bit from the prompt, renee being a crap mom, sorry i tend to write her in a negative light but i have never been able to stand her character 😅, plus i have my own unresolved mommy issues lol 😅 , mention of alcohol consumption, reader smokes, unprotected sex just imagine reader being on birth control, flings, virgin!jacob, losing that v card, kinda bitchy reader?

Words: 4818

Stepping one foot out of your taxi, you finally take in the sight of the Cullen residence. Just to make sure, you double check the address that was on the wedding invitation.

Yup, this was the place.

Already there's festive laughter streaming out of the house. Some people lingered on the large wrap-around porch, talking amongst one another.

You weren't looking forward to the wedding but your mother called and pestered you enough to where you just gave up and sent in your RSVP despite your reservations. It wasn't that you didn't like Bella, you just never liked the idea of marriage. Your mom had failed at several before. In the end you always wondered what the point of it all was.

And a wedding in your mind was the most absurd thing to waste one's money on. Especially one as extravagant as this one. You surmise that the Cullens obviously were the ones to foot the wedding bill. Neither Charlie nor Renee would have the funds to put together a glittery wonderland like this one.

Readjusting the skirt of your dress, you walk up the steps, bombarded by the loud music and chatter. You were already regretting going through with it when you weave through the throng of people in the house. Unfamiliar faces that stare at you in your trek to find Renee. Though really you just wanted to fist a few drinks into you first. Your mom wouldn't be happy if you got drunk so early. It would definitely lighten your mood, but you shake off any thoughts of libations.

After asking around, you learn she's upstairs helping the bride get ready.

Fine paintings were displayed on the wall as you take one step at a time. They look to be originals too. Not that you knew much about art. The paintings were beautiful regardless. Everything about the Cullen house was meticulously perfect. A wonder how your clumsy sister was marrying into this atmosphere.

You follow a gaggle of female voices to a closed bedroom door. When you knock, a short pixie of a girl opens it with startling gold eyes. "You must be Bella's sister!" She's open and inviting, tugging you by the arm inside of the room.

Renee calls over to you, delighted at your presence. "You made it!" She throws her arms around you, suffocating your nose with her strong perfume. Like with most of your family, you were never close to Renee. The moment you were accepted into a university away from her, you leapt on the opportunity and never looked back.

She steers you to where Bella is standing in front of a floor length mirror that reflects her image. Her wedding gown was sleek and not as terrible as you first imagined it to be. When was the last time you'd seen her? Probably not since your own senior year in Arizona.

Her dark eyes round at your appearance, definitely not expecting you to be there.

"Hey Bella. Congratulations." Your lips quirk up in a small smile that hides your desire to not be there. This is what you had to do in front of your family. Put on a mask and pretend you were happy to see them. You felt awkward in that room, knowing your interaction was being watched by the pixie girl, your mom and an unknown blonde woman who was drop dead gorgeous.

Her thin lips part in a struggle to gather any useful words. "Th-Thanks." It was clear she didn't really know how to act around you either.

You shoot an anxious look to your mom as if to say 'See, I did what you wanted me to do now let me free.' Ridiculous how you still looked to her for any guidance even though she would offer you none. Renee merely sighs and nods her head toward the door.

Relief makes the warmth in your face cool down as you give Bella an awkward wave goodbye before hightailing it out and back down the stairs. The rest of the house was no better. Your claustrophobia starting to get the best of you as you desperately try to elbow your way to the backyard for some fresh air. It was so stuffy in there. The lack of fresh air flow was really starting to get to you.

That's when you bump into someone- well honestly you thought it was a wall by how sturdy and hard the person's body was. Wobbling backwards, you're grateful that at least the body you bumped into had faster reflexes than you. A large, tan hand grips at your wrist to pull you back up and stabilize your posture.

You stare up into a handsome face with penetrating dark eyes. His jaw slackens, whatever he was going to say. Pure shock ripples across his face.

"S-sorry about that." You apologize and brush off his hand, or at least try to. His grip on your wrist is incredibly strong. Furrowing your brows you look back up to him. "Um, excuse me. . ."

He blinks, snapping himself out of whatever stupor he'd been in. "Sorry. Sorry." His fingers reluctantly release your wrist, hovering over your skin until you pull your hand back to your chest. Cute and towering over you, you feel the anxiousness in your chest from the crowd subside. He doesn't move. Instead he introduces himself with a shallow breath. "I'm Jacob Black."

"Oh, Jacob Black. That name sounds familiar." You reply and give him your own name.

"You're Bella's sister." Jacob states but his voice still held a bit of confusion.

You awkwardly chuckle. "Yeah, that's me." The intense way he's looking at you has you slightly uneasy. "How do you know Bella?"

"We. . ." he clears his throat, finally averting his gaze from you. "We're friends. I live on the reservation. Charlie and my dad are best friends."

Trying to remember your childhood with Charlie, nothing comes up. When your parents split, initially you lived with him. But being a small kid alone at night while he was working wasn't really ideal. After a while it was decided that you should be with Renee and Bella. It must have seemed like the best option. Honestly you were screwed with either parent.

"Since you've been in the loop," from your peripheral you notice a waiter carrying around a tray of drinks (thank god they were serving alcohol before the ceremony) "what is Bella's fiancee like?"

That sours his face. Jacob doesn't bother to try and hide his dislike for this guy that was marrying your sister. His lips squirm but he couldn't conjure any positive words. "He's. . . well, I don't trust him."

"Why? Does he mistreat her?"

"Well-"

"Oh!" You smile when you connect the dots. "You like Bella, don't you?"

He's slightly loud now. "No!! No, I-I don't like her. I mean, I did, but not anymore, obviously."

Was it obvious though? The way he was yammering on made it all too obvious that he still had feelings for her. You watch him suffer, occasionally taking a sip of your champagne. When he winds himself out, he mutters one more apology. Jacob's face a beet red. You just chuckle.

"No need to apologize. Guess it was my bad. I don't know much about Bella. We've never been close. I was just curious."

Around you, the flow of guests was starting to congregate to the backyard. "I think it's time." You take one more sip and set aside your champagne flute.

At the reception, you again find yourself outside on the front porch. Her husband (and his family) were quite honestly the most beautiful people you'd ever set your gaze on. And they seemed to genuinely love Bella. You just hope that her marriage lasts longer than any of Renee's.

Next to you on the front step was another cocktail. Your fingers were occupied with holding up your cigarette. Watching the slow dance of the smoke curling upward. It was a beautiful evening, you'd give them that.

Having said hello to Charlie a few minutes ago, all of your duties here were over. You'd stay in the little rinky dink motel that Forks has tonight then head back to your actual home.

Snuffing out the stubby remnants of your cigarette, you toss back the rest of your drink and fish your phone out of your jacket pocket.

You're about to call a taxi before you hear the creaking of the porch's floorboards behind you. Twisting around to see Jacob Black leaning against the wooden column. "Heading out so soon?"

All honesty, he was cute. A year or two younger than you, Jacob was like a giant in comparison to Bella's now husband. More muscular too.

"Yeah. I have to go back to work the day after tomorrow." You won't tell him just how eager you were to return even if that meant you had to work. Anything was better than be surrounded by strangers. "I have a motel room for the night though. Gonna call a taxi."

"I can give you a ride, if you want. It'll probably take a taxi time to get up here." Jacob looks down the narrow, winding road that was the only one to lead up to the Cullen estate.

"Really?"

There's a ripple of relief in his gaze and the spreading of his smile. "Of course. You wanna go now?"

Arching a brow, you look around him to the front door where inside was the warmth of celebration. "You don't want to stay?"

His nose scrunches up. "Nah. There's nothing left for me in there."

Weird way to put it but you shrug it off and follow Jacob to a little red Volkswagen car that, while being on the older side of vehicles, appeared to be well maintained. Definitely didn't match any of the other fancy looking cars lining the Cullen's driveway. You're surprised they didn't hire a valet.

Pure magic the way Jacob maneuvers his car around all of the others without hitting any of them. Watching it made you nervous so you'd squeezed your eyes tight, listening to Jacob chuckle.

A good thing about Forks was that it wasn't a big town. And the motel was the only local one in the town.

"I appreciate this. Can I give you money for gas?" You lean back into the worn cushions of the seat.

"Don't worry about it." He just waves you off. The lightness in his voice doesn't match the anxious drumming of his fingers against the wheel. You frown at the behavior, tucking it away in the back of your mind. Your nature was to be untrustworthy of people. Especially those you've just met.

"Why did you go to Bella's wedding?"

"Because she invited me. And. . . as much as I hate him, Bella's still my friend."

That was sweet but the ceremony must have been a dagger in his heart, another reminder that the girl he loved could never be his.

'Why did you go to her wedding? You looked like the whole thing was actual torture." Jacob turns your question against yourself. "You even said that you aren't close with Bella."

"Obligation. My mother paid for a plane ticket to come to the wedding without my knowledge. Really laid that guilt heavy when she said the ticket was expensive." You roll your eyes when you remembered that phone call. "And I guess it's the least I can do as the older sister. Just show up."

A lull in conversation settles until Jacob brings up "So you probably won't be coming back any time soon. . . That's a shame. . ."

You shrug. "There really isn't a reason for me to stay. My life isn't here."

The drinks you previously consumed were beginning to make your tummy warm and your morals. . . well, loose. You start really taking in Jacob's side profile, his defined cheekbones and full lips. The muscles that are roped in his neck. Were you really entertaining the idea of sleeping with Bella's sloppy seconds?

You bite your bottom lip, fighting against the ache you feel between your legs. It had been a while since you'd last had a good rutting. But you felt that this guy, no matter how sexy he appeared, was a virgin. That was something you didn't want to deal with. You wanted a man who knew what he was doing.

Reigning in your drunk horniness, you turn your head to stare back out the window. No, you definitely didn't want to have another reason to come back here.

Quiet the rest of the way to the motel, you watch the neon sign grow closer as Jacob pulled into the pebbly parking lot. You stretch and grab your bag from between your feet.

"Thanks again for the ride. Are you sure you don't want any money for gas?"

Why did he look like a sad puppy?

"Like I said, it's alright. But. . . Can I get your number instead?"

You feel your brows shoot up and you know you must have a ridiculous expression. "My number? What for?"

His cheeks tinge with warmth as Jacob peels his eyes away from you. Yup, definitely a virgin.

"I'd. . . I'd like to get to know you." Was all he could mumble out.

Damn he was making it too easy for you.

An impish curl to your lips. "You can still get to know me. Want to come inside for a little bit?" The implication was too obvious that even Jacob was able to catch on your meaning.

Poor thing is stammering, conflicted with saying yes but the sweet part of him wanted to reject your offer. You really didn't think he would agree but enjoyed the shock he got from your words.

Letting him sit in the car perplexed, you open the car door and bid him goodnight.

It only took a second before you heard footsteps right behind you. You felt his body heat at your back when you open your motel room door. The lights were still on, the way you left them, at least casting a warm glow over the meager furniture in the room. You set your bag down on the chair and finally turn around to face Jacob.

He's blushing terribly, unable to hide his nerves and you take pity on him.

"You can sit down, ya know." you chuckle and he obediently sits on the edge. "You said you wanted to get to know me more, right?" Crouching down, you open the mini fridge that the motel offered. Having already stashed away some items you bought at the liquor store. Fingers crack open the can.

Jacob's gaze fires something inside of you. His blush was intense but it didn't compare to the heat in his eyes. A small blush of your own actually tinges your face. "Yeah. I did. Like what's your favorite color or your favorite food?" His smile would flood any girl's panties.

You hide your giggle by taking a sip from your can. "Hmm, those are real stumpers." The more the both of you joked around, the more tension that leaves Jacob's frame. Sitting next to him he's now comfortable enough to scoot closer to you so that your bodies are pressed together.

In a rather sneaky way, Jacob had stolen your can of beer and was drinking from it too. Well, now you couldn't have him driving back home tonight with a good conscious.

And just as the alcohol was starting to warm him too, his hands grew bold and traveled from resting on your thigh to your waist and higher until you were pressed against his chest. Jacob's kiss overflows with passion and lust that completely takes your breath away. He's definitely kissed before, that much was certain.

His skin nearly scalds under your fingers as they find themselves gripping the soft cotton material of his button up.

This was a new Jacob that you hadn't seen. Was he keeping this part hidden deep down all along?

Hot hands hike up the hem of your dress, impatient to rove the skin of your upper thighs. He palms the soft, squishy flesh of the insides of your thighs before pausing near the elastic band of your panties. He's groaning to himself, knowing what lay beyond the flimsy fabric. Just to verify for yourself, you grind yourself against the tent of his pants. Jacob shivers and given your unvoiced permission, his fingers pull aside your underwear.

His face is hidden in the crook of your neck, lips nipping at the juncture of your jaw. It makes your head tilt back to give him more access. Jacob growls in appreciation, thick fingers playing with your wet pussy lips. You squirm, wanting him inside of you but he was strong and kept you at bay. If this was indeed his first time then Jacob was in no rush. Like he wanted to memorize through the touch of his fingers each intimate part of you.

Nose nuzzling the soft skin of your throat, inhaling deeply. A finger grazes over your swollen clit making you jump from the sudden contact. Your little whine just makes his cock harder. Jacob chokes on his own moan and glides over your clit again.

Most men wouldn't even know where the clit is. Especially virgins. Jacob seemed to find it right away and liked how this small button of nerves could send you into a spasming fit.

As much as you want to regain control, your head is swimming from the attention he's giving your body. Eager hands and lips.

Jacob becomes slack jawed when he finally inserts a finger past your sopping folds. "Oh fuck"

He keeps whispering 'fuck fuck fuck' as his finger slides in and out, helped by your pooling arousal coating it. Your mewling is cut short though and turns into a cry of dismay when he removes his hand completely to examine his glistening digits. Bringing it up his lips, he sniffs it and you swear a dark possessiveness seizes his expression. Jacob licks his fingers and thumb clean.

While he's distracted, you scramble to fling your clothes off; skin burning up with desire. When you look back at him, his eyes are now glued to your naked form.

"Come on. You're turn." You grin and lean back against the pillows on the bed.

So obedient, Jacob nearly rips his shirt to shreds. The buttons were but an obstacle to him now.

Boy were you delighted to see his sculpted body. His abs and cum gutters that were oh so prominent. And once his pants were removed-

How was this guy still a virgin??

You've been with your share of men, but none of them had a cock as thick as a beer can. Damn near hypnotized watching it as he crawls on the bed and slots himself in between your open legs. Something animalistic on his face as he grabs your legs and throws them over his broad shoulders. Going by pure instinct, the bulb of Jacob's cock is dragged along your begging slit, experimentally bullying the tip inside.

Once he had the tip in, he snaps his hips harshly, piercing you and stretching out the walls of your pussy with his thick cock.

Now you're the one chanting 'fuck fuck fuck' repeatedly as he gives you no time to adjust. Now that he's inside of you, Jacob can't help but devour you entirely. Fingers digging into your plush skin as he holds onto you tightly. The tight squeeze your pussy offered his cock was driving him inside so that he mercilessly pounded into you. You enjoy every second, every ram his cock tip dealt your cervix. It was impossible for a virgin to fuck you this good and this dumb but there you were just a screaming mess. Absolutely no thoughts in your head, only focusing on the stretch the width of his cock gives you.

You try your best to buck against him, to reciprocate every pleasure he gave you but it was laborious to keep up with him. So you just let him use you as a fuck doll.

You wanted to be fucked into oblivion.

Jacob had a rude awakening the following morning, not just due to the slight headache that was ringing in his brain, but because when he reached over for the warm body he thought was next to him there was only cold bed sheets.

He peels his eyes open to find the bed completely empty besides himself. There was a piece of paper with black inked writing. It had an apology. You were running late to your flight and apologized.

But no number.

Staring at it for a moment, Jacob sighs, running a hand over his face. He just couldn't believe what he'd done last night. Worse was you'd left no number.

Really, he couldn't help himself once he'd imprinted on you. That was sealing the fate of the night. Especially when he smelled your arousal. Fuck, he was just hoping to be invited to stay with you. Though he didn't quite believe it at first when you'd offered him to come inside your room. He would've done anything in the moment to stay a little longer with you.

The alcohol wasn't what really urged him on once he got going, it was the wolf in him. To claim and. . . Jacob blushes to admit it, but to breed too. All instinctual, of course. He wasn't ready for kids and clearly you weren't either. But that's what his wolf was howling at him to do.

It was embarrassing to admit that at the end of the day, his wolf really did control him.

He runs away from his own thoughts by reading your note again, overly focusing on the lack of number. Anxious thoughts sweep him up in a smashing wave.

Pressure upon his chest makes him feel like he can't breathe. Repressing the urge to shapeshift into a stronger form that would allow him to really express the anguish he was feeling. It hurt when Bella rejected him. The hurt had stayed with him up until he'd spotted you.

He thought it cruel kismet that you turned out to be Bella's sister. Who would blame him though? No one has seen you in Forks since you were small. And Bella never spoke of you either. To him, you'd only been an urban legend with only a handful of pictures as shaky evidence.

This explains everything though. Why he was drawn to Bella. She would eventually lead him to who he really belonged with. You.

The animal in him gnashes it's teeth together, growling for it's imprintee, it's mate.

If only Jacob knew.

Find her.

Find her.

Find her.

A constant bark in his mind until he leapt from the bed and got dressed. He couldn't silence it until he obeyed. Finding his cellphone drained of battery. Jacob curses his past self for not charging it prior to the wedding. He'd have to wait to call Bella and hopefully she would answer on her honeymoon.

You frown at the unknown number that had your phone ringing. Since you were at work, you ignore it.

At first.

Four more calls sets you at your limit until you excuse yourself and go into the hall to answer it. "Hello?"

"You're a piece of work, you know that?! Showing up to my wedding without speaking to me for years?!"

"You invited me! And mom made me!" You snap, knowing who it was. Bella. What was she doing calling you? She was supposed to be on her honeymoon with her perfect husband. Renee must have given her your number. "What is it? What's so important that you pulled me away from work?"

"How could you do that to Jacob? You fuck him a-and then just leave without anything?!" You remember that stutter from childhood. It always got worse when Bella was upset.

Grinding your molars, you make sure to lower your voice so you weren't heard from your coworkers. "I left a note explaining that I would be late to my flight."

You hear her derisive scoff "But no contact information! Was he just a fling to you? A-A boy toy?!!"

The laugh left you before you could stop it.

"You think this is funny?!"

Cackling now, you have to take a deep breath to settle yourself. "Oh my god I don't think I've heard anyone say that in years!"

That adds heat to her tone. "You can't use people like that!!"

"I didn't use him. For god's sake Bella, we had a good time and that was that. I told him I didn't have anything left in Forks. Gave him plenty of opportunities to leave. I didn't force-"

"He-he REALLY likes you. And you just tossed him aside! That night meant more to him than you could possibly know!"

Maybe you should have been more considerate. But your jaded side was strong, having been fucked over by guys one too many times before. Some of them virgins too. Fuck you didn't want to say Bella was right.

"He can't be that upset that I dashed without leaving him a number. We hardly know each other. He'll find someone else now that he has the confidence that he could even get a girl."

Bella goes silent for a moment. You hear soft whispers in the background, most likely Edward. She returns to you with a frustrated huff. "Look, just- please call him or better yet go see him. I've never expected much from you, but you have to see him again. Please."

This was the only thing she's really asked for from you.

You called him when you got home, heavily apologizing because it was most possibly the best sex of your life if you were being completely honest. And he deserved an explanation on why you'd left without giving him your number. "It wasn't anything you did, really. I'm just kinda a shitty person. I'm really sorry. . . I should've been more empathetic. I remember when I lost my virginity-"

"Oh god. Th-that's not the reason why I wanted your number. I didn't just want to screw you. I. . ." You listen to him gulp. Jacob takes a deep breath. On the other end, unbeknownst to you, was Jacob pacing back and forth at a rest stop near where your city was in. He'd never meant for it to sound like he was tattling to Bella and butt-hurt. All he asked was for your number before she countered demanding a reason why. He was completely honest with her. She blew up at him over the phone to the point he had to hold his cellphone at arm's length. Bella hung up immediately once she was done. Probably to call you. Apparently she hadn't told you about the whole wolves and imprinting thing.

Using what scent was left on his shirt, he'd strapped his shorts and shirt to his leg and shifted to his wolf to track you down. It may have been extreme, but by the time he'd gotten Bella to answer her phone he was already at his wit's end. He knew he may have come off as a creep by doing this. This was an itch he desperately needed to satisfy. The wolf in him demands to know where you'd gone.

He couldn't say that to you. That would make him sound downright demented.

"I would just really like to know you. For real. Not just your favorite color or food. I want to know that too, but I want to really know you." God did he sound lame? Jacob thought what he just said was totally lame.

"You sure? You may not like what you find." There's a hint of sadness.

"I'm positive."

Setting up another date, you put down your phone with a tender smile. Maybe. . . Maybe this wouldn't be like all the other times. He sounded sincere. And no one else has gone to the trouble of getting your number from anyone.

You just hope you weren't making a big mistake.

Grabbing your cigarette and lighter, you head outside onto your small porch.

You put it between your lips while your thumb fumbles with the lighter's sparkwheel. A crunching sound a few feet away from you makes you pause. The cigarette falls from your lips as you stare into large brown eyes stare at you from a break of trees. Russet fur was highlighted by the street light that was near. You didn't think wolves were capable of growing to such a size. This thing was gargantuan.

There's not an air of danger around it. The wolf merely wags it's tail, snout shaping into what you could only describe as a grin before it pads back off into the night.

You smile to yourself. "Wow."

It was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

Perhaps a good omen.

Tags:

@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

@bakugospartner

[kimvante2013]

『𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬』 변우석

summary: The feelings between you and your best friend are far from over.

Genre: best friends to lovers,little bit of angst,Byeon Woo Seok x fem!reader,drabble

author notes: After months I came back, today I bring you a drabble about the love of my life, also because I saw "Lovely runner" and I liked it a lot so I got a little inspiration from there, well I hope you enjoy this and later I will bring more about Sun Jae and Woo seok since I don't see many people writing about them, take care and good night :)

Word count: 1089k

The soft ping of my phone broke the quiet hum of my apartment. A message from Woo-seok.

“Hey y/n, do you want to come to my house later? I need to write some lines for my new drama, “Lovely Runner”. You know, the usual, being my personal script coach and all that stuff.”

I smiled, imagining Woo-seok's signature goofy smile. It was almost endearing how he never seemed to take his acting career seriously, even though he was on the verge of becoming a major star. He was still the same goofy, clumsy boy he'd known in high school, the one who always made me laugh.

“Sure, I'll be there in an hour. "What time are you free?" I replied and let the tea sit while he prepared it for me.

An hour later, I found myself outside Woo-seok's elegant apartment building, the imposing structure a stark contrast to the cozy, modest apartment we used to share as roommates in college.

He greeted me with a wide, welcoming smile and a playful push, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the hallway. "You're late," he teased, pushing me inside.

"Traffic," I lied, my cheeks heating up under his gaze. Despite knowing him for years, my heart still pounded when he looked at me like that. He always had this way of making me feel seen, like I was the only person in the room.

His apartment was a testament to his success, modern and elegant, with a wide view of the city skyline. But I still felt at home, filled with the familiar warmth of his presence.

"Let's go to my room," he said, leading me to a well-lit space filled with scripts, props, and a comfortable chair.

"Okay, so this scene is where I first meet my love interest, played by the beautiful, talented, and incredibly charming Ryu Sun-jae," Woo-seok began, his voice dropping to a playful whisper.

I couldn't help but laugh. He was very dramatic, even when he talked about his own work. But his enthusiasm was infectious and I found myself immersed in the story. He ran through the lines, his voice shifting seamlessly between playful banter and sincere emotion.

He was good, really good. He poured his heart and soul into every word, into every gesture, making me forget that he was just watching a friend rehearse.

And this is where I'm supposed to make a grand entrance, you know, like a knight in shining armor. "But I think he's too exaggerated," he muttered, pulling a crumpled script from the table.

"No, I think he's perfect," I said, surprised by my own conviction. "He is your character, it is what makes him unique."

Woo-seok looked at me with a flash of surprise in his eyes. 'Actually? So you think?

"Yes," I nodded, trying to ignore the way his gaze lingered on me. There was an unspoken connection between us, a bond forged over years of shared laughter, dreams, and late-night chats.

'What do you think he should do here?' He asked, pointing to a particularly difficult line.

'Hmm, maybe try it with a little more vulnerability?' I suggested, my voice softening as I realized how closely I was studying his face.

He nodded, frowning in concentration. He walked the line again, this time with a raw emotion that resonated deeply within me.

"Wow," I sighed, genuinely impressed. 'That's perfect. You captured the uncertainty, the fear, the longing for acceptance. It is brilliant.'

Woo-seok's smile was brighter than the city lights outside. 'You're the best, Y/n. You always know how to make me feel better about my work.

We continued rehearsing until the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the room. As we worked, it felt like we were falling back into the comfortable rhythm of our old college days, time blurring into a cozy, shared memory.

"I think I'm a little hungry," Woo-seok said, breaking the silence. 'How about we order some food?'

"Sounds good to me," I agreed, feeling a warmth spread through me.

While we waited for our food, we sat on the floor and flipped through old photo albums. Laughter filled the room as we recalled silly moments from our past, each image a window into our shared history.

The delivery boy arrived, bringing with him the aroma of spicy noodles and sizzling dumplings. We ate in comfortable silence, enjoying the food and the company.

Later, while we were cleaning, Woo-seok turned to me and his eyes met mine. 'You know, Y/n, I'm so lucky to have you in my life. You have always been there for me, through thick and thin.

I smiled, my heart swelled with warmth. 'Me too, Woo-seok. You are my best friend and I will always be there for you.

He reached out and took my hand, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. "I know," he said, his voice low and sincere. "And I'm grateful for that."

For a moment, we stood there, hands clasped and the silence filled with unexpressed emotions. The city outside glowed like a distant dream, but all he could see was Woo-seok, his eyes containing a depth that he knew he couldn't ignore forever.

“I should probably head home,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded and his gaze stopped on my face. "Yeah, I guess you should."

I pulled away, my heart aching with a mix of longing and apprehension.

"I'll see you around, Woo-seok," I said, forcing a smile.

"Yes, definitely," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of disappointment.

When I left his apartment, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed between us. The line between friendship and something more had blurred, and I wasn't sure I was ready to cross it.

I had always valued our friendship and the thought of risking it for something uncertain made me sick to my stomach. But the warmth of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, and the way he made me feel so seen had awakened a longing inside me that I couldn't ignore.

The lights of the city blur as I walked, my mind replaying the events of the night. I knew I needed time to process everything, to discover my feelings. But one thing was certain: the bond between Woo-seok and I was deeper than simple friendship, and I knew, with a certainty that made my heart ache, that our story was far from over.

[metalandmagi]

A list of underrated Christmas movies for everyone who is getting tired of watching the same things every year:

This year, I wanted to make a list of a few Christmas movies that I feel are a bit underrated and under-appreciated, because I’m tired of seeing the same things all the time. If anyone has any suggestions for their own lesser known holiday movies, please feel free to include them!

Arthur Christmas: An animated movie that should be a classic, but it was unfortunately lost to time because it had a horrible marketing campaign that made it look like complete shit. Well, I’m here to tell you that it’s not complete shit. It’s actually fucking amazing.

Arthur, the clumsy son of the current Santa Claus is known for being a lovable idiot who tends to ruin everything he touches, but when a little girl’s present is accidentally left behind one Christmas, Arthur, an elf named Bryony, and his grandfather (a previous Santa…so grandsanta) embark on a chaotic mission around the world to deliver the missing present. Every character in this movie is so fucking funny and empathetic at the same time. Arthur embodies the true meaning of Christmas in everything he does. Bryony is just…on another level entirely. Arthur’s brother Steve (a strategic genius who wants to use his new technology to ensure his place as the next Santa) is a perfect antagonist that the audience still feels sympathy for. They all just have such a fun dynamic, and it’s a crime that more people haven’t seen this.

Spirited: A fairly new addition to the Christmas movie ranks, since it came out in 2022 (but it was on AppleTV+ so no one watched it). Spirited is a modern, musical version of A Christmas Carol like you’ve never seen before (starring Will Ferrell and Ryan Reynolds, who are an amazing combination in anything). If you’re tired of seeing endless retellings of Dickens' story, just watch this. It’s hilarious, heartfelt, and it brings a whole new perspective to the story in a way that I’m not going to spoil. And the songs go so hard it’s insane.

Happiest Season: A rom-com in which a woman named Abby desperately wants to propose to her girlfriend Harper over the holidays during Harper’s family Christmas party…only to realize that Harper’s extremely rich and conservative family doesn’t know she’s gay. Fun rom-com shenanigans ensue. Did I mention Abby is played by Kristen Stewart, and Harper is played by Mackenzie Davis? Also Aubrey Plaza, Alison Brie, and that guy from Schitt’s Creek everyone loves are in it.

This could easily have been a completely different movie if the cast wasn't so funny and didn’t have such good chemistry. It starts out as a standard holiday rom-com, but I was tearing up by the end of this the first time I watched it. If you’ve ever felt like you’ve been hiding your true self from your family or if you’ve felt like you’ve never been good enough for them, I think you’ll see a lot to relate to in this. 

Violent Night: Another new addition to the ever-expanding list of Christmas movies, this aptly named action thriller also came out in 2022, and I feel like no one has spoken about it since, which is a crime because IT WAS SO MUCH FUCKING FUN!

When a grizzled, down on the world Santa (played by David Harbour) gets stuck in a rich family’s house while it’s being overrun by mercenaries, he has to Die Hard his way out and save the hostages (or at least the ones who are worth saving) before it’s too late. This was such a fun surprise, because violent action thrillers are so hit and miss for me personally. David Harbour is great. It’s just under 2 hours of watching shitty people get their comeuppance in unique ways. I’m so offended that it only has a 6.7/10 on IMDB, because this is a great movie to watch with a group of friends and some age appropriate beverages. Yeah, it’s not a masterpiece, and maybe my standards are low, but I had a great time with this.

Tokyo Godfathers: An anime Christmas classic directed by Satoshi Kon in which 3 homeless people (a former drag queen, a runaway teen, and a grumpy alcoholic) find a baby in a dumpster and try to reunite it with its family. This was the movie that tricked me into thinking Satoshi Kon’s other works would be just as comedic and wholesome as this one. It’s got humor. It’s got heart. It’s got twists and turns that will keep you guessing in the classic Satoshi Kon fashion. And the English dub is just as good as the sub, so you can’t go wrong either way.

Neo Yokio- Pink Christmas: Speaking of anime…I’ve talked about this one before, but I have to mention it again because it’s a staple for me every year. Pink Christmas is the Christmas special for the…anime (and I use that word in the loosest way possible) Neo Yokio…aka the one starring (and possibly made by?) Jaden Smith.

For anyone who’s never heard of it, Neo Yokio is a series on Netflix that is the closest thing to a professionally made Abridged Series we’ll ever have. The “plot” of the series revolves around Kaz, a pink haired guy who fights demons and does increasingly absurd rich people things with his robot mecha butler named Charles. The Christmas special involves Charles telling Kaz a Christmas story about the city’s Secret Santa competition for all the ultra rich people.

Look, there’s no good way to describe this one, but trust me when I say you don’t have to watch Neo Yokio to understand it, since even people who do watch Neo Yokio don’t understand it. In fact, I think it will be even funnier if you don’t watch Neo Yokio at all before watching Pink Christmas (but I encourage everyone to watch the series too, just because it’s more of the same insanity.)

Every line in it is pure comedic gold, not because it’s truly funny, but because it’s absurd and ridiculous in a way only Jaden Smith can be. I quote it incessantly while eating a Toblerone every year. 

Cabin Pressure at Christmas: Molokai: Okay, it’s not a movie or even a TV special, but I love Cabin Pressure so much that I had to include this too. Cabin Pressure is a comedy radio show (not a podcast, an actual radio show) that aired on BBC Radio 4 in the early 2000s about an airline crew for the world’s shittiest airplane. 

For anyone who watched season 2 of Good Omens, you might recognize the name John Finnemore as one of the writers. Well, Cabin Pressure is made by (and stars) the same person. The Christmas episode is one of my favorites of the series, and you 100% don’t need to listen to the entire series to enjoy it. It captures the humor and despair of being stuck with your co-workers on Christmas eve, but it keeps up the spirit regardless. This is another one I quote incessantly, and the whole show has become hardwired into my personality. PLEASE FIND A WAY TO LISTEN TO CABIN PRESSURE! I’m pretty sure the whole series is available on iTunes as an audiobook.

As honorable mentions, I want to include Rise of the Guardians and Klaus, because even though they have a fair amount of popularity, I still feel like people could appreciate them more. And sure, Rise of the Guardians might be more of an Easter movie, but it still includes Santa as a character, and he’s amazing. 

That's all for now. Sorry these are all specifically Christmas themed, but if anyone has movie suggestions for other winter holidays, please throw them in!

[batrachised]

SO.

Dean Priest.

Watching the book trundle its way towards this chapter has been interesting, because as Emily steps into her own voice (although really, she's always had it) - Dean appears. This is going to be a weird analogy, but Dean is kind of like a rotten onion. There are so, so many layers to unpeel there - LM Montgomery seemed to have him as a pet character, he's rife with symbolism and allusion, he's disgusting, he's ominous, he haunts the narrative - but in the end, after all that peeling, you just have a rotten onion. This is my clumsy way of saying my personal opinion (personal! opinion!) is that while looking at Dean, saying "pedophile," and moving on is more than valid, (He is a rotten onion!), there's also key elements to his character that I think are incredibly essential to the book as a whole - specifically, the book's commentary on women writers.

Dean is like the evil version of a kindred spirit. There's some old saying about if you don't listen to your kids, they'll find someone who will, and I think this heavily applies here. It's not lost on me that we get Dean's perspective at length; it feels very significant in a book that, excluding throwaway lines, has Emily's voice front and center - until Dean appears. He's presented as enticing and disturbing all at once - @gogandmagog and @no-where-new-hero had an absolutely brilliant post the other day comparing him to the Big Bad Wolf. Emily seems drawn to and repulsed by him at the same time. He seems to fancy himself as a Rochester, which we can take or leave (I leave lol), and from the beginning, from the very first interaction, he makes clear that he wants to own Emily.

So, if Dean is so awful, why is he presented as appealing at all? I mull over this a lot. The easy explanation is that LMM had no problem with age gaps and grooming, as shown in other stories where she outright endorsed it (unfortunately, it seemed to be a popular trope of the time). But Dean is presented as ominous, and age gaps are criticized, and one minute he's denoted as having "strength, tenderness, and humor," and the next he's flinging "cobweb fetters" over Emily.

I would say (and thank you to @limestreet for the brilliant analysis a few months back, best take on Dean I have ever seen imo), that Dean represents the threat of the patriarchy to women's artistic voices. Of course Dean is appealing - he's a more viable threat to Emily's voice specifically because he's not an Aunt Elizabeth or Uncle Wallace. It's easy enough for her to dismiss them. But Dean quite deliberately enmeshes himself in Emily's life and explicitly (in later books) threatens her writing. Dean is the "it's your writing or me," and he's chillingly effective at making sure to make that a hard choice, when Emily at no other point hesitates to pick her writing, whether when burning her account book, writing on letter bills, risking the wrath of relatives, or any other of the endless hurdles she has to overcome.

Knowing that Dean represents that threat (how women writers often were forced to pick between, one might argue, the 'seduction' of marriage/family and writing), puts a curious light on this passage:

“That’s good. Because you see your life belongs to me henceforth. Since I saved it it’s mine. Never forget that.” Emily felt an odd sensation of rebellion. She didn’t fancy the idea of her life belonging to anybody but herself—not even to anybody she liked as much as she liked Dean Priest. Dean, watching her, saw it and smiled his whimsical smile that always seemed to have so much more in it than mere smiling. “That doesn’t quite suit you? Ah, you see one pays a penalty when one reaches out for something beyond the ordinary. One pays for it in bondage of some kind or other. Take your wonderful aster home and keep it as long as you can. It has cost you your freedom.”

According to Dean, Emily reaching for something out of the ordinary (such as a writing career) must cost her in bondage. And this is where I think of LM Montgomery, miserable in her marriage to a jealous, resentful, unstable husband, LMM for whom Emily was heavily autobiographical, LMM who despite her writing success, had to marry to secure her future. I have never agreed with Dean being Ewen's stand in, but I do think Dean as a character feels pointed.

I'm going to be reblogging past discussions on Dean later so hold onto your hats!

[tartagliad]

hey!! thanku sooo much for doing my request i love it!!! i have a thing for angst so i will request another one!. so can you make part two gn!reader who gets the urge to hurt themselves whenever they got stressed or (in my case) got anxiety attacks? with al'haitham (who has some difficults to deal with since it doesn't happen often), ayato, kaveh, and childe!

aww.. tysm!! I'm so happy that you loved it 🥺.. alright! your request is accepted, I hope you also liked this one ^^ hehe. have a great day, and thank you for the request (✿◠‿◠)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Comfort and Stress

Summary: the title says it all, a part two to this

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Characters: Alhaitham, Ayato, Kaveh, & Childe

G/N reader!

Warnings: mentions of self harm, hurt, if uncomfortable DNI

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alhaitham

Honestly, he knows things like these could happened but he never faces it

Until he met you

You're one of those people who usually keep their tasks on hand but at the same time, can be clumsy.

One day, things get a little stirred around your work and it stresses you out

Like literally. Papers here and there and sudden tasks are flowing nonstop

When Alhaitham entered your room, he could see most of the papers aren't organised and you yourself is a mess

He walked to you and checked on you

"y/n." he said with his usual tone, but with a slight hint of concern etch on it

You looked up, and saw him

He can see some scratches on your wrist

Without giving any words, he pulled you closer and comfort you

Honestly.. he didn't know what to do since he spends most of his times alone

But you only told him to hug you and he did that

Just holding you close, and rest your head on his chest

Alhaitham rubbed your back and let you cry or rest on him

You can always rely on him, always

He never judges people, although he can be rather cold

Especially with you, he always accepted for who you are

So, if you need any help, do call him :)

"it's alright.. let it out.. I'm here if you need anything"

Kaveh

Is probably the most understandable and quite experienced (?)

From his lore, we can tell that he's been through a lot

even know he's a renown architect, problems can come and go in his life

So, when you're in the same situation where it's getting too much, you can always tell it to Kaveh

When you're breaking down and have these thoughts, he would hold you close

His soft hands would held yours and rubbing gentle circles on your palm while whispering soft things into your ear

You're so fragile in his arms, your tears were making his clothes slightly wet from it, but he didn't mind.. it's you after all

The last thing he wanted you to do is not tell him and harm yourself

Trust me, he would be damned if you did hurt yourself

even when he first noticed it, Kaveh felt like it was his fault since he didn't kept a close eye on you

So.. don't make him worry, he loves you dearly

"Everything's gonna be okay.. you have me here.. just come to me whether you want a talk or just a hug.."

Ayato

In my head, he is also quite inexperienced (?)

I know he works around people, but his subjects are mostly paperworks and politics

So obviously, feelings rarely come in hand when working on a daily basis

It took him quite a while to know that you're struggling with your life

It's quite on both, you hid it well and he's too busy to notice it

Ayato noticed finally when you two were getting ready for bed

When you changed, he saw a few scratch marks on your wrist

he wanted to think you scratched by something, but the looks like its been done by a bit force

he then noticed how down you look

You're eyes seem a little dimmed than it used to

He then come over to you and wrapped his arms around you

You looked at him in confusion, but he only said, "seems like you need it."

Since he don't have any idea about what to do, he would just let you take the lead and wait for you to tell him something

He's just afraid that he might say the wrong thing to you, so it's best to give you some hugs for now until you're ready

"It's okay.. I'll be here until you get better.. no pressure, dear.."

Childe

Like Kaveh, he knows and understands about it

Well.. childhood trauma from the Abyss..

You can say he has ways of dealing it, either fighting or fishing

Or just have a stroll (like he did in Fontaine)

You were glad that he knows about it and knew how to take care of someone who's like that

It's a heart-wrenching sight for Childe to see you like that

Scars from battles are alright although he prefers to get it on him and not you

But from self harming.. it's the most thing that he loathes

Seeing his loved ones struggled and attempt that can torn him into pieces

He would do anything to make you feel better, even if it's just hugging you while you breaking down

Making your favourite food while telling you about soft things

Or if you want to talk to him, he'll hear your hearts out

Also, he would cut your nails so you couldn't scratch it. Of course that also applies that he would stay around for the next few days until you're completely okay

Just.. don't hurt yourself like that again

Hurting yourself = hurting him (in his mindset)

"now now.. there's no need to do that, princess.. you can always come to me whenever you're sad.."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[jesterwriting]

JESTERRRR okay first. HI I HOPE YOU'RE HAVING A GOOD DAY!! I'm absolutely taken by the magnificence that is the damn timeloop trope and that HIT HOMEEE and your other works as just as wonderful omg!! goodness i love how you write 😭 i really wish to know more of your ideas soo PLEASE IF YOU HAVE MORE SHARE that's my request for you!! whichever character it is!! (ofc do it at your own pace if u decide to take it :) ) i have some too and omg i feel like spewing them all out is it okay if i do 😭😭

what if you were an angel drabbles

pairing: shanks x reader & law x reader (separate)

contents: can be read as platonic, angel!reader, slight body horror especially in law’s, your body is Wrong, if you squint you’ll see nonhuman character as a metaphor for autism in here, angel lore that i made up on a whim don’t think too hard about it

word count: 1.8k words

note: first off feel absolutely free to come into my inbox and spew ideas!!! i'd love to hear it and you're always welcome <33 secondly, i would literally never post something like this normally, but because you asked for more of my ideas, here it is! something squished out from the creative recesses of my mind.

playlist: man on the moon - zella day

Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. That was your motto. Even in your younger years, questions poured from your tongue like honey, coloring your world in rich, vibrant hues rather than suffocating shades of gray. You could speak for hours, annoying your instructors at the academy with your incessant questions.

It would be better if you learned to hold your tongue, they'd say.

How would I sate your hunger if I were silent, you would shoot back.

It would be easier if you could join the humans; ask them your questions face to face. Why couldn’t you walk among them? Such things were not forbidden, though they were rather frowned upon. As an angel, you were meant to observe, not intervene. If anyone were to be sent to the surface of a world, it would certainly not be an angel who couldn’t keep their mouth shut. Since time immemorial, your kind had lived in secret, housed in the spaces between stardust.

You would not be the one to ruin that.

That was what you promised yourself as you packed your bags and snuck out into the night. You could do both, get your answers and keep your secrets. For once, you wanted to live. Smile like a human, laugh like a human, love like a human. All of it was at your fingertips, the only thing you had to do was reach out and grab it. So, you did. You sent yourself spiraling to the surface of a beautiful blue pearl, a planet that was more water than land. This was where you would make your home.

For the first time in your centuries of life, you felt happy. The people of the island you found welcomed you with open arms, embracing your oddities instead of pretending they would go away. You were eccentric, both wise beyond your years and hopelessly naive. Fruits that were common were treated like precious jewels in your hands, work that no one wanted to do, you met with enthusiasm despite your clumsy hands. You told the children stories of faraway worlds, who would then parrot your truths to their parents. It was no secret that there was something off about you, but you were loved, and most importantly, you were free.

Though you were happy, your curiosity could not be sated. You wanted more. To see the world and all it had to offer. When a pirate ship appeared on the horizon, you asked the captain if you could join them on their adventures.

The villagers were sure to give you glowing reviews, you said with a broad grin.

Thus began your life at sea. In closer quarters, it was harder to keep your secrets. Your wings itched beneath your skin, feathers tickling your spine, begging to be set free. When asked of your hometown, you could only dodge the question with a laugh for so long. It wasn’t as if you could tell them the truth: that you fell from the stars like a meteor, never to return home again. You had created a niche in the crew, you would hate to be run off so soon.

Now, you were certain that this was the end of all you had built.

It had been a mistake. A simple one. An avoidable one. You were alone with him when his foot slipped, and you were alone when you dove after him, white wings unfurling to catch him. You were stronger than the average human, easily carrying his weight as you glided to the bottom of the ravine.

This was never meant to happen. Not in a million years, ever. There were rules in place to keep such situations under control, and you, somehow, managed to break every single one within seconds. Your wings ached from being confined within your vessel for so long, and though you longed to stretch them, you were well aware of the pair of eyes that studied your inhuman form.

“What are you?” His voice was soft, barely audible on the wind.

With a slick noise, your wings slotted themself back against your spine, gone as if they were never there in the first place. It felt better to have them back under your skin. Safer, especially under his scrutiny. With a deep breath, tongue gliding over your sharp incisors for comfort, you wondered if there was any way to salvage this.

Red Haired Shanks

Before you could start explaining yourself, Shanks cut you off, his expression morphing into a broad grin. “You can fly? You can fly and you never told me? I should be mad about that, you know.”

“Sorry.” You weren’t sure what else to say. Whatever you expected from your captain, it wasn’t this. Betrayal, maybe, but not excitement. Your stomach churned at the thought of what they were saying about you back home. It was no secret that they were watching you, you were not the first angel to fall from grace, nor would you be the last. Your fingers found the hem of your shirt and began to fidget. “No one was supposed to know.”

Shanks took a step closer to you, breathing heavily. Adrenaline, perhaps. He did just glide thirty meters off the edge of a cliff within the arms of a previously wingless crewmate. Besides, you couldn’t fault him too much, your heart was thundering inside your chest too, both from fear and exhilaration. You had forgotten how wonderful it felt to fly. A part of you couldn’t wait until you could do it again.

“Don’t be,” He said. The wind had swept his hair from his forehead, causing it to stick up at odd angles. You fought the urge to flatten it back against his head. “You saved me from losing a leg, at least.”

You cocked your head to the side, large eyes blinking owlishly at him. “You’re not mad. You should be mad. I’m a liar, and I can never tell you the truth.”

Shanks laughed. You liked his laugh. “Who cares about that? You save me and then expect me to be mad. You really are odd.” Craning his head to look above you, he put his hand on his hip when he caught sight of the edge he stumbled off. “Do you think you can get us back up there?”

If you were odd, Shanks was odder. That was his only question. You grew wings out of nowhere, and all he wanted to know was if you could fly him back up to the top of the ravine. Was it really that simple? You shivered, remembering the first words that left his mouth.

“What are you?”

You didn’t get to answer him. Maybe you never would. With your captain held in your arms, his head against your chest as he whooped against the wind, you wondered if the price of getting to keep your secrets would be simple. You had a feeling that this was not the first flight that Shanks would ask to be taken on, and certainly not his last.

Trafalgar Law

Law stared you down, lips pressed into a thin line.

Your wings fluttered against your spine, wanting to fly you away from this conversation to somewhere you would never be seen again. You were fast, easily able to outrun the Polar Tang even without your headstart. Still, if you left Law at the bottom of a ravine, you would never forgive yourself.

“Um,” You started.

Law crossed his arms. “And don’t you try and tell me you’re human. I’ve known for a long time you’re not.” He glanced down at your hands, palm too wide, fingers too long. “Your bones are in the wrong place.”

It was no secret that you were built… different, with limbs that were too long, disproportionate to the rest of your body, and eyes that reflected light, glowing when the sun dipped under the horizon and stars blanketed the velvet sky. If you weren’t careful, both your elbows and knees bent backwards. It had scared Shachi and Penguin more than once, their screams that you were broken echoing through the Polar Tang. You hadn’t meant to build your body so strangely. In your defense, you had never met a human before until a few months ago.

“My bones are all wrong? But I worked so hard on this body.”

To his credit, Law’s confusion at your strange statement was betrayed by a barely noticeable blink. “You need anatomy lessons if you think that’s passable enough to fool anyone.”

“You should be happy with what I look like. If I showed you my true form, your eyes would melt out of your skull,” You said.

Law scoffed. “I doubt that.”

You bit your tongue to keep from arguing. The only way your captain would believe you was if you tore free from your vessel and bestowed upon him your true holy splendor. Which you would rather not do. Not only did you not want to blind him, but the entire situation would be rather intimate. Angel’s did not show their true forms on a mere whim, and they definitely did not do so to win a petty argument.

“Alright.” The two of you stood in silence. Law was still while you kicked a rock with the toe of your boot. “If you must know, I am an angel.”

You could practically hear them booing back home.

Law was quick with his response, “Angels don’t exist. If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable.”

“Sorry.”

Sighing, Law approached and gave you a stern look out of the corner of his eye. He stood so close, you could feel his body heat. “If you don’t want to tell me the truth, then don’t. All I need to know is how to properly treat you when you get sick or injured.”

Despite his assurances, you could see the curiosity burning in his golden eyes, and you knew the conversation was far from over. With a shrug, you unfurled your wings, grabbing a hold of Law as you launched yourself to the top of the ravine with a single push. Surprise caused him to struggle in your arms, though you kept your grip on him firm.

You didn’t care how stubborn Law was, nor did you care about the inevitable onslaught of questions that awaited you back on the Polar Tang.

If there was one thing you respected, it was curiosity.

[alltomevibes]

Summer 2024 Watchlist

It is officially summer which means I am out of school and have time to just sit !!! watch !!! and do nothing !!!

which means - here's my drama watchlist & my thoughts on everything so far:

Dare to Love Me - i started this yesterday and let me j say I flew through those 2 episodes. I decided to brave the comments on MDL to see what people were saying, and then i ignored them LOL because yeah. this show is highkey silly goofy but i love it! the FL is endearing to me and i hate how nowadays every woman has to be Strong and Confident to be loveable and it's like - no. i love the fact that she gets choked up, that she tries and fails, that she is mad clumsy, that she's clearly talented but has been burdened by lack of self-esteem like yes!!! she's human i love it give me MORE. and don't get me started on the ML. i love him - i love THEM your honor. currently at a 9.0 rating for me, we'll see if it keeps up.

Dating in the Kitchen - this has a 8.0 rating for me and i want to keep going (i only watched 1 episode and it's been two weeks since then) because i watched This Isn't What I expected THREE (3!!) times and i LOVE that movie and when I saw there was a drama based on it, i wanted to give it a go but i am STRUGGLINGGGG. imma keep it pushing because, look. i watched the movie 3 times. it's def worth it. (maybe)

Fight for My Way - this has a 9.5 rating rn, and i am stuck in the middle of episode 15. i have been stuck on the middle of episode 15 for a HOT minute. my interest in this show dropped like crazy, i am trying to hold on.

Good Morning Call - my roommate for two years (and sadly no more a ha ha) recommended this show to me and we watched the first episode together and it was cute! i liked it, so it's on my list. currently has a 8.5 rating, but it's low on my priorities (when it comes to dramas), so im gonna pirate it whenever i have time💀

Lovely Runner - don't even talk to me about this show if you want a short conversation - I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS SHOW BRO. look at my tumblr, it's all lovely runner rn and I HAVE NO REGRETS. 9.5 rating - won't get a 10 because it ENDS SOON. this is my type of show, i LOVE this type of show the cinematography and everything IM EATING IT UP. it got me out of my drama funk its so nfjsdfhdsifsd

The Midnight Romance in Hagwon: let me just say! i watched this yesterday and i flew by the two episodes. lovely runner x tmrih on my tumblr? yes. this show is a much slower-pace show and I LOVE IT. YEs! Give me real life, give me real conversations! I love this show, i love the micro-expressions, i love the fact that WHJ is the MAIN LEAD FOR ONCE LIKE YES SIR, GIVE ME ALL THE BUTTERFLIES and i've never seen this actress before JRW but she is absolutely gorgeous and i love the FL! these people are not acting, they ARE the characters and im so !!!!! 9.0 rating because i skip the intro every time (sorry)

Will Love in Spring - this is on pause on episode 15 because the ending actually has me severely messed up rn. i have been in love with li xian's acting since gogosquid and i absolutely adore chen mai dong. i adore the way zhuang jie says his name ALL the time like she can't help it. I adore zhuang jie and just the way she operates through life - she's so clearly flawed when it comes to romantic love, but she is so clearly filled with love and always tries her best and !!! zhou yu tong is eating her character up rn, i've never seen her act and this was such a good intro to her BUT WHAT ZHUANG JIE SAID TO MY BOY IN EPISODE 15????? locked up. i have never felt so disrespected in my life and i had to give it a pause because i know she's gonna apologize but i needed that on the train. not the next episode. actually, not even on the train!! IN THE STREET BEFORE HE DROVE OFF AFTER DRIVING HER HOME AFTER SHE ACCUSED HIM OF FORCING HER!!!! That's when she should have apologized, but fidjofdshifudsf i love her so much i know why she couldn't IM JUST IN AGONY RN. anyways, let me breathe lol cause the way i was holding my breathe writing that is,,,,,. yeah. has an 8.5 rating rn, will probably go up to 9.5 because the fact that i actually had to stop watching because of emotional damage is crazy.

thats my list (and crazy descriptions, so sorry) that i'm watching rn! i would 10/10 recommend these to everybody (except dating in the kitchen im highkey struggling)! if you guys have any recs based on what i shared or wanna be friends on MDL j let me know :)

[moonlightleafs]

Introducing Spathi Eleftheriou (spah-th-ee eh-leh-f-theh-ree-oo), a Fire Emblem Three Houses OC for @fe-oc-week! It's been a hot minute since I tried to design an OC, and this is my first time for a Fire Emblem game (pls be nice im bby) (pls clap). It's been a lot of fun! They're def not a self-insert by any means, but they do share some aspects of my personality and ethnic background.

I know I'm super late to this, I felt so inspired by everyone's wonderful characters this year (esp @peachiehambo's Yoona and @wild-moss-art's Moss). Couldn't resist!!

More about Spathi after the cut!

Spathi hails from the seaside city of Alatisitou (ah-lah-tee-see-too) in southwestern Almyra, on windswept plains where wheat flows in golden waves, and scents of sage and marjoram carry forever on the wind.

They're the only child of a warm, close-knit family of farmers situated on the city outskirts, among the tumbling cliffs and endless highland valleys that eventually cascade down to the ocean. It's a fitting home for a kid born with dreams in their feet and salt spray in their hair; infinite possibilities and a wide, sun-soaked sky always offering new opportunities.

Growing up, they'd often be found spending their free time exploring the arcadian landscape, climbing through old ruins and cyprus groves, and occasionally ambling around the city proper to watch the sleek trading ships ply wares from far-flung lands.

They tend to be quiet and observant in public, but are extremely energetic, talkative, and personable with their friends, who would readily attest that Spathi is an indispensable one-person hype squad. You couldn't ask for someone better to gas you up when you're feeling down.

Their family grows wheat and olives in their humble fields and orchards for export and local sale. Spathi devotes themself to their family's well-being and works hard to ensure good harvests.

That's kinda all I've got so far, lol. Might add more to this later as other ideas come to mind! Some other broad stats for Spathi, in no particular order:

Their name translates to 'Sword of Freedom'

They're non-binary, their preferred pronouns are they/them and sometimes she/they

They're 19 years old when they enroll at Garreg Mach

They're 6'2" tall and are somewhat clumsy

They're passionate about breadmaking and all things bread-related

Their favorite flower is marigold

Their favorite spice is basil

Their favorite treat is mastic, a chewable resin from native trees with a bitter flavor that gives way to refreshing notes of pine and cedar (also delicious steeping into a cup of cool water!)

Their favorite tea is chamomile with a splash of wild honey and vanilla

They love to play the mandolin and pan flute, and they love to sing

They have a soft and sometimes raspy voice

They're a good sailor, though the family could never afford a ship larger than a catboat.

They fucking love boardgames dude!!!

At the academy, they have strong proficiencies with Sword, Faith, and Reason, and weak proficiency with Authority.

Anyway hope you like them!!

[heartofsnark]

A Simple Request For An Unsimple Man (Gale x Fem!Oc Tav)

Author's note: Hello, it's certainly been a minute since I've been able to post fic here without worrying about formatting bullshit (love so much that my longest running fic can't be posted here because it relies on italics/formatting techniques within the first 50ish chapters and tumblr makes that a headache)But, I've found myself sinking a bit into BG3/Gale hell and after some prompting my @shallow-gravy about a comment I left about Gale being able to summon a bed, I decided this might be a fun idea and oops have a thirty page one shot! So, have something featuring my tav- Petra and Gale. Still not sure of what I"m doing with these characters, but hey~

Summary: Petra and Gale are more than a little clumsy in the ways that they love, both having their own significant dry spell when it comes to romance and sexual desires. And while the two have shared themselves within the weave, Petra has made a simple request to share their physical bodies as well. Gale is not good at simple.

Warnings: Unprotected vaginal sex, praise kinks, creampies, cunnilingus (tav/petra in this is a cis female woman), fingering, mutual masturbation, tooth-rotting fluff (turns out I write fluff now), soft!dom Gale, and magical sex mishaps.

Petra's mind has been a maelstrom of worries for quite a while now, however, if someone had told her that amidst tadpoles, cults, and shadow cursed lands that her mind would be consumed with matters of the heart and loins- well, she'd think they were crazy. 

But, perhaps she's the crazy one. 

She never expected to love again, never expected to find someone who felt like home, or makes her heart stutter on every other beat. But she never expected to have a tadpole shoved into her eye or to pull a wizard from a stone- let alone for that very wizard be the one doing this to her. Life is full of surprises, as is her lover. 

Ugh, gods- she has a lover. 

The very thought makes her face burn, her heart pound, and her guts twist. If she didn't know any better she'd think herself ill, but alas- she's learned that's merely Gale's influence on her. The wizard needed no charms or illusions to win her affection, but he warned her early on- well before either of them had realized what was growing between them, that he had a taste for grand gestures. 

And grand they were. 

He conjured her stars and shifting auroras against an ink black night, he showed her his home, his sanctuary without her needing to step a foot into Waterdeep. And he plucked their very souls from their bodies, to kiss and touch and merge within a realm beyond their own. Glittering blue forms, never knowing quite where his touch ended and hers began, surrounded and consumed by him. An electric blur of his touch over her very being. 

She would have been content with a flower and a bowl of his deer stew, but who is she to turn down the adoration fueled gestures of a man she does not deserve. 

Which in part is why she can't help but suspect she might be being just a touch greedy…

Made all the worse by her greed and insecurity tugging her mind back and forth between them like rabid dogs would a slice of steak. 

In some ways she's already done the hardest part, confessing her desire to Gale felt like a herculean task in itself, a stumble of poorly put together words while her face burned hotter than Karlach's engine. But ultimately, she got the message across and Gale as always was far too eager to oblige.

Though, he seems intent to oblige her request in his Gale way of obliging.

Because, you see, her request is incredibly simple. Despite her anxiety and insecurity- she wants to fuck Gale the old fashioned way. She loved the way they bonded before and truly will jump to do it again, but she just can't help but also want the more mundane variety. To feel flesh and bone, to touch his skin, to press her lips against his throat and feel his pulse race beneath her tongue. This of course means he'll also be seeing her naked properly without blue blurry auras smoothing out her every- less excited for that, but her desire for him outweighs her shame for herself. 

And this simple request, frankly- could have been sated nearly the moment it was made in the privacy of his tent. He needed only to roll her onto her back or pull her to straddle his hips, a few garments tossed aside, the dark providing her with some some cloaking while still getting to feel and see him- gods bless darkvision. 

But that would be far too simple, her request instead met with a wide smile a; "Say no more, consider it done, my love," a kiss goodnight, and the looming knowledge that he was planning something. 

So, perhaps surprise is too strong a word when she returns to camp after a brief walk alone to find her companions snickering and Gale's mirror image standing outside his tent. Thin ripples of weave radiating through an otherwise perfect copy of her favorite wizard. She knows it could be perfect, saw him make one perfect before- the imperfections intentional, to let her know it's not him and instead a messenger. 

Petra skirts past her chattering friends, pretending she doesn't feel several sets of eyes following her as she stands before the replication of her dearest. Who merely beams with that bright smile that she's come to adore, even if it's merely a simulacrum of it. 

"Heh, I take it Gale has some plans for us tonight?" She whispers towards the mirror image, trying to keep prying ears from learning too much. Not that her and Gale are secretive about their relationship by any means, but not every one of their friends needs to know when they're having sex. 

"That he does and I have the most wonderous task of taking you to see him, words cannot begin to express how eager he is to see you tonight," the mirror image chirps, not even a hint of shame or volume control as his eyes burn with that same flame of adoration the real Gale always seems to carry- her face flushing beneath its heat.

"Ugh, hells you two are going to make me throw up a perfectly good meal, would you please take your simpering gazes elsewhere," Astarion calls out from around the campfire, a hint of a smile in his words, then his lips when Petra turns to glower at him. 

"I hardly think whatever shadow cursed vermin you've managed to snack on out here counts as a good meal- but rest assured, I am leaving." 

"But of course- after all your little magician is so very eager," he mocks again and if he weren't her friend, she'd kick his arse- still might. 

 "Oh lay off her, Fangs- it's cute, like two pups wagging their tails at each other." 

"I believe nauseating is the word you're looking for," Shadowheart chimes in, "I mean really, not a drop of shame between the two, every time he leaves behind one of those mirror images- he might as well just declare that they're about to go rut around in the woods all night." 

"Date nights are perfectly healthy for a newly bonded couple-"

"Dates- is that what you think they're doing out there? In the middle of nowhere, alone- you think they're, what, chatting about their favorite books over a glass of wine?" Astarion cuts Wyll off, incredulous that he would refer to Petra and Gale's outings as a date. 

"I mean, wouldn't really be all that shocked if they were- it is Gale, after all…" 

"Regardless, I think seeing our friends form such a union is something to be celebrated not mocked." 

"Their carnal desires are hardly any of our concern, so long as they remain vigilant in battle- however, I must say I do find it curious that the wizard always seeks to be hunted, he might as well submit outright if he cannot best her in combat." 

"Oh, I'm sure he does plenty of submitting." 

"I don't know 'bout that, Petra may be bossier but look at the poor thing- redder than a devil's arsehole, probably turns into a mess the moment clothes start comin' off." 

Petra grasps the mirror image's arm, her face burning hot and no doubt just as red as Karlach said. She hisses between gritted teeth;  "Get me the fuck out of here." 

"Your wish is my command, now- let us find more pleasant company," he assures her, quickly walking her away from the camp as their friends speculate about their sex life. 

"And by that, you mean yourself," she teases, leaning against the mirror image's arm. The conjured form isn't a perfect match, both from the rippling static like eminence of weave and it being a little less shameful than her Gale. But it carries his warmth, his smell- like the innards of an old library, cozy and welcoming. 

"Would you have it any other way?" 

"Gods no," she admits, burrowing her face into his arm, hiding her flushed cheeks from his view. 

"Careful now, I'd hate to be jealous of myself," Gale's voice rings out, more alive, more human and not right beside her- her head shoots up, the sky is bathed in shifting colors and twinkling lights. Her Gale just a short walk away; "Though I can hardly blame you, he is quite handsome." 

And that’s all she needs, letting go of the mirror image, the half-elf rushes towards him- the real him, a small laugh escaping Gale’s lips as she throws her arms around him. As nice as the fake one is, it will never feel as good as touching the real thing. His heat seeping in between their clothes, warming her skin- that must of old books and lavender offset slightly by the salt of his sweat. His large hands holding her in kind, one settling on the small of her back and the other stroking through her hair. She takes a deep breath, a heavy inhale and exhale of him, before finally lifting her head ever so slightly- enough to look up at him,

The way he looks at her could melt all of Frostfell. Those soft brown eyes looking at her like she’s hung the stars and moon, all the while he’s the one who’s conjured the sky above them. 

“A good evening to you too,” he greets, smiling so sweetly and she stands up on her tiptoes- Gale meeting her need as she presses a kiss to that very smile. The warm press of his mouth against hers sending heat and butterflies through her very veins, she breaks back before she can get carried away. Not wanting to ruin his plans, but struggling to stifle the desire to kiss him until her lungs ache. 

“Good evening,” she hums back instead, squeezing him tighter, her eyes looking around the wide field bathed in the glow of soft purples and blues. It’s largely familiar, the same space and view he created the night he brought their very souls together- when he confessed his fear, his love, and so much more. Where she pleaded for him to stay, for him to live. 

Though with one very new addition to the expanse of field- an extraordinarily out of place bed. Lavish and lush with deep indigo blankets, bathed in the glow of the sky and the burning of a torch mounted in the ground beside it- the addition betraying the reason they’re here tonight. 

“You know what I can’t help but notice?” Petra remarks after a beat of silence, a quiet moment of simply sinking into one another’s hold- blinking up at her wizard. 

“My dashing good looks?”He asks, a small smile and a raise of his brow. 

“Mm, yes, but no more than usual,” she plays along, smiling against him. Knotting her fingers in the plush purple of his tunic,debating on if she should slip her hands beneath the fabric- wanting to feel more of his skin. 

“My brilliant mind and ever expanding intellect?” 

“Well, that just goes without saying,” she assures him, heaping on the praise for him. 

“Hmm, than it must be my veritable wealth of charm and wit.” 

“Close and before you ask- no, it’s not your modesty either,” she teases, scratching her nails over his back through his shirt- trying to sate her ache to touch him, “What I can’t help but notice is that whenever you pull me away for a night via your mirror image- it seems to mean I’m the one left dealing with the whispers of our companions.” 

He grimaces slightly, somewhat between amusement and annoyance; “Ah, yes, a… much unfortunate consequence, but one we simply can’t avoid, I’m afraid.” 

“Oh, is that so?” She teases, laughing through her smile, “Funny how that unavoidable consequence seems to benefit you.” 

“Life is full of those funny little mysteries, I think it wise to embrace- not question, these curiosities.” 

“Thats quite a fancy way of saying you intend to keep throwing me to the wolves,” she chirps, pulling a hand back to slap him playfully in the ribs, he merely laughs because he knows exactly what he’s doing; “Do you know that right now, at this very moment- our friends gossiping like hens about which one us… takes the lead?” 

“Ah, yes, I’m… terribly sorry to have missed that conversation.” 

“And yet, I suspect you’re not sorry at all,” she comments, reaching upward she strokes through his hair-  tracing a streak of gray that curls around his ear, soft brown strands slipping between her fingers. He’s so lucky he’s so damned adorable. 

“Oh, but I am- absolutely contrite that I could not steal you away before their sordid chatter reached your ears- after all, I’m no more keen on our proclivities being the subject of discussion than you are,” he admits and she hums, a small smirk on her lips as he continues on, trying to insist he definitely feels bad about leaving the gossipy shit for her to handle. 

“Perhaps not, but you do seem keen on leaving me to handle it.” She points out again, cradling his jaw- his beard scratching her palm as she rubs her thumb along his cheekbone. Petra often wonders if he minds the callouses that cling to her skin. Her flesh so much rougher than his, he leans into her touch, presses his jaw to her hand. 

“And my apologies are most sincere, however if you still find yourself unconvinced- perhaps I can show you the depth of my remorse?” He asks, pressing his forehead to hers, lips a breath away, “You need only ask, demand any penance you deem fit-  and I will gladly pay it.” 

“Is that so?” 

“There is no sin against you, no matter size or severity,  that I would not repent for.” 

“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t mind a kiss,” she admits, the only thought on her mind when his face is so close to hers- when his lips are just a breath away. When one tilt of her head, one jolt would crash their lips together. 

“Hmm, I think you may not have a full understanding of what penance means, my dear, typically-” 

“Gale,” she says, looking up at him with the sternest eyes she can manage- no doubt stopping him from prattling off the definition of penance. Because she’s in love with a sentient thesaurus. 

“Yes.” 

“You have until the count of three to kiss me and if you don’t- I’m going to bite you,” she threatens, not sure how much she wants him to listen- she does like biting him, “One-” 

“Thinking over my options,” he chimes, sing songy as he seems equally unsure of which choice he likes more. 

“Two.” 

“I do rather like your love bites, but your kisses are quite enchanting as well.” 

“Thr-” 

His lips press to hers, deeper than before. One of her hands twists in his tunic, the other in the his hair. He cradles her jaw and lower back, pulling each other closer, she can’t help the small sigh of happiness and bliss as his tongue pushes into her mouth. The faintest taste of his cooking still on his tongue, a hint of mint where he tried to clear it out-  maybe she should have been so kind. 

Their kisses are still clumsy, a slightly awkward press and swirl of tongues, both single and isolated for a year or more. But it feels like warmth and love and home in a way she can’t define, heat simmering between her thighs when the hand on her back moves lower. A broad palm playfully squeezing at her ass, tugging her closer, the grope of his fingers sinking into the plush of her flesh- a soft moan echoing from her throat, muffled by his tongue. 

They break apart, breathing ragged- hot puffs of air across each other’s lips. She can feel the heat clinging to the apples of her cheeks, mirrored in the flush that creeps beneath Gale’s beard. Petra grins up at his beautiful red face, the brown of his eyes nearly swallowed by the black of his pupil. 

“Three,” she whispers, catching his lower lip between her teeth and nipping playfully at the kiss swollen flesh. Gale groans, deep and throaty, sending molten heat right to her cunt. His lips pulls out from between her teeth as he pulls her into a desperate hungered kiss. 

It’s deeper than the last, even more ravenous and rough, both of his hands now groping at her backside- kneading at her flesh, feeling his fingers sinking into the plush of her flesh through her clothing. Wishing his hands were beneath her clothes, on her skin, pressing into her properly. 

She tugs at his hair, scratches her nails along his scalp as he kisses her deeper and deeper, her lungs burning by the time she feels the back of her thighs bumping something soft. Breaking off the kiss to see she’s somehow been staggered back to the bed. It’s plush blankets and rows of pillows beckoning her. She can’t help but giggle. 

“Couldn’t settle for a dirty bedroll, could you?” She teases, stealing another soft kiss. 

“The least I could do for your comfort, time spent together in the flesh should be no less beautiful than that spent in the celestial- whatever way you’ll have me, I wish only to make it perfect for you.”

“Then… wish no more,” she murmurs, voice soft as she avoids the intensity of his gaze, the adoration that consumes his words and expression, “You’re here with me, I could not imagine anything more perfect than that.” 

“Careful now, keep talking that way-  you may never be rid of me,” he tries to joke, to tease- but when she forces herself to look back up at him, she can see the flush of his cheeks deepening as his smile widens. 

And with everything that still hangs in the air- Mystra’s unreasonable request, the knowledge that a part of him still doesn’t feel certain of whether he’ll see the end of this journey. The fact he may still make that choice, that he very well still might leave her in some desperate attempt to save the world. She throws her arms tight around his neck, latches her nails into his skin as she tugs him closer, closer. His nose bumping her own, his forehead back flush against hers. 

“I truly hope that I could be so lucky,” she rushes out, reiterating her wish- her plead again. That he’ll stay here with her, that she will never be rid of him- that on the other side of this whole ordeal is a future where his story stays enmeshed with her own. That she’ll not have to lose another love, not sure her heart could stand it. 

Then it’s another clash of lips, tongue, and teeth- not even sure who started this one, both desperate to get their mouths on each other. And for a moment, she feels herself lifted, feet off the air- she giggles into his kiss before the world shifts every so slightly, her back thumping down onto the soft blankets. Her weight sinking into the plush of the mattress, Gale smiling at her lowers a knee to the bed and climbs up, settling above her. 

Adoration, the word comes to mind over and over again whenever he looks at her. Brown eyes soft and clear with nothing but that emotion, letting it sink in through her skin and into her bones, consuming her wholly. She never thought she loved brown eyes so much, disliking her own for so long- but on him they’re so beautiful. Warm and filled with more love than she’s could ever hope to deserve. 

She cups his face and pulls him down for another kiss, never satisfied. He said before that moment with her could sate him for a lifetime and while the sentiment still rattles her to her very soul- she can’t say she relates, feeling as if she could have a million with him and still beg for one more, for another, another, another. Not enough time in the universe for how much she wishes to spend with him. 

Her hands tug at his tunic, reaching one beneath- no longer able to suppress the desperate need to just touch him. To feel his skin beneath her fingers, warm flesh and coarse body hair, the soft skin of his stomach. A layer of plush with a hint of firmer muscle beneath, when she presses a little harder. Their lips part again as Gale leans back onto his knees, which sink into the bed on either side of her hips. 

She skims her hands down his hips and thighs as Gale grips at his shirt, tugging it off- carefully putting it aside. Petra’s eyes roaming the open exposed flesh of his chest and stomach. The celestial version of him gorgeous, but not truly doing him justice. Smooth glowing blue aura not showing the dark body hair that scatters across his chest, trailing down his stomach and leading to below his waistband. The occasional freckle and even rarer scar that decorate his skin. 

Even the mark on his chest, the symbol where the orb took root in his chest. Bruised in the middle, tendrils sweeping out from it- the ones that curl up the left side of his throat growing fainter as they stretch out to vanish beneath his beard- connected faintly to the prominent veins that ghost below his eye. She hates what that thing has done to him, how it’s hurt him- how it’s not being used as a threat against his very life, but even that she finds beautiful on his flesh. The mark of his mistakes, of his devotion to one who never deserved it, proof of him as a man who sought love in worship. His folly is as much a part of the man she loves as every virtue he carries in kind.

“Fuck,” she curses, all the words she can utter as she gazes at him. Admiring every inch of his body that’s been revealed to her. Realizing she’s rarely seen him shirtless, not counting the celestial plane and a few brief, awkward mistakes while navigating river baths in the early days of their travel. How odd that they’ve been so deeply intimate, yet she can’t say she’s seen him fully naked. 

Which means he has yet to see her fully naked as well- which scares her even more than the tadpole gnawing at the inside of her skull. 

“If you ever sought to deflate my ego, I must say- you’re doing a terrible job at it,” he teases, a brilliant grin on his face as her own burns with heat. 

"As if I'd ever embark on a such a fool's errand," she taunts, skimming her hands upward and feeling the heat of his skin. Raking her nails along his lower stomach, feeling the muscles tense beneath her hand, biting her tongue to not make any comments about belly rubs. 

"Hmm, given your…tendencies, forgive me if I remain unconvinced." 

She lets out a breath of a laugh- "You know, you're astoundingly disagreeable, for a man attempting to bed me." 

"Not to add to the matter, but I do believe we've past the point of 'attempting.'"

"I swear to the gods, I'm gonna learn magic just so I can cast silence on you one of these days," she threatens, pinching playfully at his flesh. 

"And I'd be honored to teach you, but for now- I hope finding other uses for my mouth will suffice," he offers, dipping down to kiss her again, bracing one hand to the pillows by her head- the other cupping her jaw. His thumb brushing along her cheekbone, a soft sigh muffled by his tongue pushing into her mouth. Her hands roam his torso, unable to settle fully on which part of him she wants to touch- his stomach, chest, sides, back, and shoulders all feeling so perfect beneath her fingers. 

His warm wide palm brushes down her jaw to her neck, heat and sparks rising to her skin wherever his fingers touch. Unable to help the way she squirms beneath his mouth and hands, the soft noises she whimpers into his kiss, against his tongue as her own presses into his mouth in kind. Burning heat aches between her thighs, barely touched but even the faintest of his kisses or the briefest brush of his fingers pulls desperation from her very soul. Pathetic in her need for him, 

Gale's hand leaves her skin for a moment, already cold without his touch, she drags her nails along his shoulder blades- tries to pull him down closer. Then his hand finds her ribs, presses against her side molten warm on her chilled skin. Caught between relishing in the brush of his fingers and the way her insecurities make her body go rigid. Her hope that he may not notice dashed the moment their kiss breaks apart, ragged breath and flushed face not betraying the concern that knits his brows- the worry carved into every line of his face. 

"Is everything alright?" He asks, voice lower and rougher, lips swollen and wet- strands of hair beginning to fall and stick against the sweat that beads along his forehead. 

"Yeah, yes, of course," she insists, her own voice rougher than she expects as she tries to cram down the bubble of anxiety in her ches- desperate not to ruin her or Gale's night. 

"Petra, I would never claim you to be an open book, but you are one that I feel most adept at reading- though, I could still clearly still use some slight guidance and for that I'll need your words. Tell me what is wrong, so I may make it right, please," he tries again, with more words and more conviction- his hand lifting to brush her hair behind her ear, his thumb dragging along the sensitive point. A little chill curls along her spine in response. 

"It's nothing, really," she murmurs, smoothing her palm along his neck- tracing along the tendrils of blacked raised flesh that curls from the orb. Wondering again, if the callouses and scars of her hands bother him. 

His hands are softer than hers, more versed in flipping book pages and casting spells than hunting or stealing. He's mentioned spas and bathhouses in Waterdeep, and she wonders what balms or lotions he'd be using were their supplies not so limited. He's not without his scars, she knows- but even the raised flesh feels softer on his body than hers. Subtle faded burns from cooking and casting mishaps alike, a raised crease on his forehead from summoning a toy he wanted as a child- only to have the wooden train set appear and thunk down atop his head. 

Her scars and memories aren't so kind. No stories as sweet or kind. No fuzzy nostalgia for raised lashmarks on her back or thighs. No warm feelings about the scar across her lip, the only thing her mother deemed fit to let her keep, the same scar Gale must feel every time they kiss. 

Gale has suffered truly and she would never suggest otherwise, she'd sooner fist fight Mystra than deny the pain he's endured, the pain he is still enduring. However, when he hears him talk of his childhood, his mother, Tara, his education- she can't help but feel like a tragedy in comparison. A pitiful thing next to him. Nowhere near worthy of his adoration, his efforts, his love… 

"If it weighs on your mind, then it is not nothing." 

"Okay, so… it's nothing, but it is silly," she tells him, scratching her thumbnail through his beard, hoping to distract him. 

"Then if it is so silly and inconsequential, there will be no harm in telling me, will there?" He says, her nose wrinkling, he's so stubborn, "My aim is not to push you into telling me anything, but what kind of man would I be to notice your discomfort and continue on as if I hadn't?"

"Okay, okay- if you must make sense," she huffs and pouts, chews on her lip and avoids his gaze as she turns her head to the side, "I just am a little…insecure. Without the weave smoothing out my scars, blurring my freckles, and softening me- well, it helped make me someone worth touching." 

Her admission hangs in the air for a moment, her chest rigid with tension and swollen with a bubble of anxiety. He must think she's exhausting, asking this of him then getting so worked up over it. Her desire for him outweighing but not fully dealing away with her own insecurities. Truthfully, she'd have been content to strip Gale down,kiss and touch him to her heart's content- while never letting his hands graze her. But, he always has a way of taking the lead when it comes to these things. A fact that can never make its way back to camp. 

A soft kiss presses to the side of her lips, where that scar cuts jaggedly through them. Another against her jaw, her forehead, her cheeks as warm welcoming hands cup her face.

"Look at me, my love." He brings her gaze to his. Her heart lurches up into her throat, skin burning beneath the intensity of Gale's expression. "There is no plane or realm or state of being in which you are anything less than a person worth touching. You are my hope and my light- and no matter how or where you are presented to me, you will always be the most beautiful thing I have set my eyes on. The stars, the moon, the sun, the very heavens themselves- you put them all to shame…" 

She feels like she's been set ablaze. Her face nearly glowing with its heat, eyes wet, and the chill of the night a distant memory as his words burn through her very being. And he means them, gods help her- he means them. Able to hear and feel the conviction in every syllable, see his earnestness in the lines of his expression, in the spark alight in his eyes. And she will never know what she did to deserve him and she will always fear that she may lose him, but she is so happy to have him, 

"Ugh, gods, fuck- Gale," she curses, stuttering on her words because she has nowhere near his grasp on the English language, "I don't really know how the hells I'm supposed to argue with that." 

"So don't," he says, the request surprising in its brevity. His lips press to the corner of her eye, Petra realizing a moment too late that tears had started to streak down her face. 

He kisses down the path of her tears, her jaw, her neck craning to the side as he buries his face against her throat. Feverish and heavy kisses across her skin, her arms wrap tight around his back- digging her nails into his shoulder blades as he bites tenderly at her skin, laving his tongue across the sting he left behind. She groans as he sucks harshly, nips at her pulse point, and she can't help but squeeze her thighs together- trying to get a bit of relief, everything he does just making her needier. 

She curls her hand into his hair, twisting the silver streaked strands around her fingers as Gale kisses along her collarbone. Careful as his teeth graze where the skin stretches thinner over bone, the briefest edge of pain soothed over by the lap of his tongue. She moves the hand not tugging at his hair down his chest, skimming down his stomach, and finally presses her open palm to his groin- feeling his cock hardening in his pants, the heat of him through the fabric. A rough, nearly pained groan echoes against her collarbone. His forehead suddenly pressed to her shoulder, twitching beneath her touch.

“Too much?” She whispers against his ear, worried she may have pushed too far too soon. Far too aware despite her eagerness that neither of them have had physical sex in  a year or more- probably more, considering his time with Mystra. 

“No such thing with you,” he says through a raspy breath, his lips catching hers again as his hands brush up her sides- warm open palms stroking up the taunt freckled skin of her stomach. Stoking a fire that burns inside of her, heat rising to the very surface of her flesh as grinds her palm against him. Desperate to give him even a hint of the same heat burning in her. 

His movements halt as his fingers brush the edge of her cropped nightshirt, kiss breaking as his eyes meet hers, a surprisingly silent request from her wizard. Reluctantly, she pulls her hands from his hair and cock, Gale provides her the space as she sits up to hook her fingers beneath the edges of her shirt and tug it up off over her head. Petra tosses it aside, shaking out her hair and trying not to overthink being naked from the waist up. 

Every fiber of her being screams that she should cover her chest, having gained some weight since traveling with Gale- his cooking having put a few pounds on her, but sadly none of those managed to reach her tits. Small and fuller at the bottom than the top, freckled like damn near every other inch of her. 

But as always, there is nothing sheer adoration in Gale’s eyes and with a little press of his palm on her sternum her back is hitting the sheets again. The blankets and pillows all the softer on her bare skin, sinking down into the blush of it. Warmth of the sheets and his hand a contrast to the chill of the open air that’s snuck back in, her nipples stiffening as a breeze taunts her. 

Her legs spread for him as he moves closer, allowing him to slot himself between her thighs- a gasp on her tongue when his cock brushes against her core. Cloth grinding against her wet clit, feeling the outline of him against her. She groans and tries to wrap her legs around his hips, only for his hand to find her thigh- a steady palm pressing it back against the mattress. And his other hand finds hers, his large warm palm eclipsing hers, fingers intertwining with her own- as he presses another quick kiss to her lips, the next to her collarbones, another to the top of her breasts, then the heat of his mouth is around her nipple. 

“Fuck,” she curses, a hiss of breath as pleasure sparks across her skin- Gale sucks harshly at her chest, teasing her nipple with his tongue, just the hint of his teeth on the fullest part of her breast, and the scratch of his beard on her skin. 

She whines and whimpers, fingers knotting in his hair- his hands on her hand and thigh keeping her pinned beneath his weight, only able to arch and squirm against his mouth. Her hips try to writhe on instinct, trying to find friction against her core, trying to refind it. But he presses a little harder on her thigh, keeping his full weight off her, too much empty space between them for her to be sated. A frustrated whine in her throat as he pulls off her breast with a soft wet sound, not offering her any relief to her core or even acknowledgement of his torture, only a small hungry groan as he takes her other breast into his mouth. 

The air feels even colder on her spit slick chest, nipple swollen and redder, a scratch of flushed beard burn left behind. Sharp contract making her squirm all the more as he makes the other match. Her sounds pathetic and needy, as he teases her sensitive chest. Every swipe of his tongue, brush of his teeth, scratch of his beard, and hungry reverberating groan against her skin sends a pulse of pleasure between her thighs. 

“Gale,please,” she keens, not even sure what she’s begging for, more or less- if she’s squirming to press herself tighter to his face or trying to escape the laving of his tongue on her body. But she can only whine when her cry is met with a groan that echoes against her, reverberates in her bones, seeps through her veins, and settles in the wet heat between her thighs. 

His lips pull away from her chest, the hand that had been pressed into hers slips away- palm stroking down her forearm, along her collarbones as Gale’s mouth moves lower. Soft kisses beneath the curve of her breast, down the middle of her stomach, his thumb brushing over her nipple- his fingers nearly chasing after his mouth as he moves down her body. Lips kissing over her belly button as he squeezes at her breast, the sink of his hands into the squish of her chest, large warm hand groping and teasing while he works his mouth even lower. 

“Gale,” she whines again, as he presses her thigh tighter to the bed, his beard scratching just at the waistband of her pants. His hand skims down from her breast, fingers pressing soft divots into her hip. Then hook into her waist band, her thigh released finally as he mirrors the gesture of his other.His deep brown eyes looking up as her. 

“May-” 

“Please,” she cuts him off, hissing her consent, the ragged sound of his voice only making her desparate for more of him. He smiles, far too sweet for a man about to strip her naked- another soft kiss beneath her navel and then he’s tugging her clothes down. 

She does her best to make it easy for him, lifting her hips as he rolls the fabric down them, moving her legs as needed when he finally yanks the clothes from her body. Her dearest magician having made sure to grab her underwear with them as well. Petra laid completely bare before him, The air just as cold on the slick  heat of her cunt as it’s been to her split slick breasts. A chill curling along her spine, reminding her that despite the plush mattress and the soft downy blankets hugging her skin, they’re unmistakably outside. Conjured bed in the midst of the field, twinkling stars and kaleidoscopes of colors still dancing over head- bathing her blush touched skin in their glow. 

Petra presses a hand to her mouth, trying halfway to hide her crimson face as her other hand hovers to hide her cunt. She can’t imagine the sight she must make- red faced, tangled hair against the pillow, throat mottled by his teeth, chest marked with saliva, the red scratch of beard burn lingering along her flesh and slick clinging to the meat of her thighs. The mess his mouth has made of her on full display. 

His fingers are warm and reverant when they wrap around her wrist, plucking her hand from where it covers her cunt- exposing her even further as he presses a kiss to her palm. 

“None of that, my love,” he whispers against her skin. Her nose wrinkles, heat still burning through her face- no words find her, so she pulls her hand from her mouth and sticks her tongue out at him. Feeling his smile against her palm, a soft nip of teeth against her wrist. 

His hand falls away from her wrist, Petra scratches her nails through his beard before allowing her own to drop. A gasp catching in her throat when the broad warmth of his palms presses against both of her thighs. Her knees bending as she allows him to spread her further apart, even more exposed- even more on display than she felt before. His deep brown eyes reverent and nearly eclipsed by his pupils as he looks down at her slick cunt- Petra squirms against the sheets and the press of his hands. 

“Gods,” he breathes out, her heart stuttering in her chest, “I could study for ages, read every tome and scroll in all of Faerun and still never be able to conjure a more beautiful sight than you.” 

“Gale…” She whines, burying her face in her hands- burning beneath his gaze and words, how can he say these things without a singular fucking drop of shame? And how can he mean every single word of it?

“I’m right here, love,” he answers, pressing his face into her inner thigh- soft lips and the scratch of his beard, her breathing hitches as he kisses her flesh. Another moving further inward, along her skin. His tongue licking the slick that clings to her, his teeth nipping bruises into her thigh. 

She squirms and writhes, anticipation coiling tight inside of her, only one goal with the direction of his kisses. Every lick and bite jolting phantom pleasure to her cunt, insides clenching and aching for something more direct, to feel that scratch of his beard and the lave of his tongue where she needs it most. No matter how embarassing the idea is. Need outweighing shame. 

And as he moves further between her thighs, he lowers himself down, closer and closer- the skin feeling all the more sensitive as he nears her cunt. His hands and arms shifting, pushing beneath her thighs- a warm support of flesh and bone, his palms settling on her hips, before pressing down. His steady hold preventing her squirming, pinning her in place as he sucks a harsh mark into her skin. 

“Please, Gale,” she whimpers, twisting both her hands into his hair, trying to squirm her hips to no avail. 

“You have not an ounce of patience, do you?” He murmurs against her thigh, blunt edges of his teeth nipping at her flesh. 

“Absolutely fucking not, not with you,” she whines, words burbling out, “I need you, please.” 

A smile pressed into her skin and she can see it in her mind, even if she can’t through her thigh- she bites her tongue, waiting for his words to spill forth again. Waits for more waiting. Waits for another three part sentence and enough verbiage to put a dictionary to shame, all needed before he may finally put his fucking mouth on her. 

The brush of breath on her wet cunt, his head shifting between her thighs- beneath her fingers and the heavy lave of his tongue through her center. Pleasure shockwaves through her, a half stuttered curse on her lips as her hips jolt and her fingers dig into his scalp. His hands press down harsher on her hips, mattress and blankets denting beneath her, keeping her still as the heat of his mouth consumes her every thought and feeling. 

A practised tongue works her over, laving through her slit, dipping inside of her and lapping at the slick that rushes out of her. Each swipe of his tongue only drawing more from her, making her cunt clench around his tongue, feeling herself soak the scratch of his beard. A hungry groan against her, reverberating and twisting the coil inside of her tighter, sounding like a man starved- her insides burn, her hips try to writhe, to find even more friction as his tongue traces every inch of her. 

Groans and wet noises against her, echoing and hanging in the open air, mingling with the nonsense of whines and pleads that she can’t seem to stop. Body and voice hardly her own as she's taken apart by every hungry lick into her cunt, pleasure burning hotter and coil dragging tighter. 

A bump of his nose against her swollen clit and she's thrown over the edge, embarrassingly easy, a thunder of pleasure through her veins- coil snapping and body on fire as it consumes her very being. Only distantly aware that she's thrashing, gasping, and pressing down harsher on Gale's skull as her body jolts. Pleasure ravages her, his tongue and lips toying with her clit all the while, Gale burying his face into her as he pushes her end further and further, harsh sucks on her swollen flesh, pushing her back into ecstasy's grip anytime it threatens to let her go. 

Not so much as cumming again, but Gale refusing to let her stop. Drawing her pleasure out, the faintest sign of it waning met with a firm nearly painful swipe of his tongue or suck against her clit, tracing patterns against it that her blanking mind can’t make sense of- only able to call his name and thrash beneath him, as pleasure edges to near pain. 

And finally, he pulls away from her, orgasm crashing down and away to faint tremors versus an active quake. Her throat raw and aching from the noises he pulled from her, cunt throbbing and clenching at the sudden relief and gut wrenching absence- both somehow existing at once. Both missing his mouth and happy to be afforded the chance to come down from her high. 

Her breaths are ragged and raw, coming back to her body. Shame aching painfully in her chest, needling at her hammering heart. The first physical bodily orgasm wrung from her by another’s hand in two years. Brought to her end by the stray bump against her clit. Her celestial form not only prettier, but able to endure far more- it seems. 

And that shame only grows as the world fully returns to her, realizing just how tight her hands are wrenched in his hair- how harshly she’s pressing against his skull. His breath ragged and hot against her wet thigh, slick with sweat and more. And she can hear how out of breath he is, how she nearly stole the very air from his lungs- nearly drowned him in her. 

“So-sorry,” she whispers, letting him go and hiding behind her hands, hating how desperate and ragged her voice is, “I uh, shit- didn’t mean to- I could’ve suffocated you, I’m so sorry, fuck-” 

For all her begging him to live, to stay- she nearly killed him with her fucking vagina. Because of fucking course that’s something she’d do. A pathetic excuse for a person, a lover, and just an existing thing. 

A huff of breath from him, hot on her already burning skin- it’s light and bubbles into a small laugh, another kiss to her thigh. The bed shifts beneath her, his arms and hands pulling away- Petra dares to peek between her fingers. Gale moves over her- his cheeks ruddy with exertion, his hair sweaty and mussed, beard and lips wet with slick. His grin only wider, more boyish when he meets her eyes through the gaps of her fingers- his own wrapping around her wrists.

Delicately, he prises her hands from her face. 

“I can think of no better death, than one between your thighs.”

She snorts, a breathless laugh,; “Oh yeah, sure, and I’d be the one stuck explaining your naked corpse to K'ha'ssji'trach'ash.” 

“He may appreciate the chuckle, but do remember the ‘chhh’ sound, comes from the back-”

“I know,” she retorts bluntly, her wizard only laughing in response. She can still remember how her nerves rattled the first time she was tasked with saving Gale’s life. Not evening knowing at the time just how much more precious that life would become to her. Terrified of saying a single wrong syllable of the mephit’s name, moving the thread to the wrong side, or hiting a wrong note on that stupid fucking flute. 

Keeping him alive will be the death of her, but as he settles slightly next to her- arms curling beneath and around her- her cunt still throbbing with her drawn out orgasm, his body warm, and his open palm cupping her jaw… She can hardly say she’ll mind. 

“I must say, I do feel assured knowing you’d bring me back again.” 

“Of course, as many times as it takes,” she admits, her next breath swallowed by his lips. His tongue heavy with the taste of her, his kiss and beard wet with her slick, a muffled groan in her throat at the very thought. 

She chases to deepen the kiss as much as she can, pressing into his chest- resting her hand over his forearm. Her tongue pushes deeper into his mouth, her insides aching again, even with the throb of near pain between her thighs from her overstimulation. The soft wet sound of their kisses, her own sigh muffled between their mouths as his mouth starts to taste less like her and more like him. 

His forearm flexes beneath her fingers, his palm leaving her jaw, the other hand still holding her close and brushing her ribs. Before she can break the kiss or see where his other hand is traversing, she feels his fingers on her lower stomach and skimming down her body. 

“Gale,” she whispers against his lips, thighs squeezing together- his fingers already teasing along her mound, scratching through the sparse patch of dark hair above her cunt. He hums against her cheek, pressing a kiss to her jaw- “I can’t… again.” 

Her words are stuttered and breathy, not at all convincing- she’s still thrumming after her last orgasm, cunt still aching and sensitive, every cell of her being an exposed livewire he seems intent to keep playing with. 

“You can’t… do what exactly?”He asks, voice edged with teasing as he bites at her jawline. Her thighs draw tighter together as his finger start to push between them. Whining as he kisses at her neck and she can already feel that coil starting to twist again. 

“Can’t- cum again, too, mm… too soon, let me touch you instead,” she manages through the kisses and bites against her throat. Petra starts to move her hand that’s been placed in the narrow space between their bodies, groping downward- frustrated with the fabric still clinging to his lower half. 

“There’s never too soon enough time to touch you,” he whispers against her throat. 

“Gale, please,” she gasps, feeling him groan against her as her palm cups him through his pants- hard within his clothes, twitching beneath her touch. 

“Spread your legs for me, dear,” he requests and she knows she’ll fall apart so quick, that the pleasure may ache into pain, but she needs him, the promise of his fingers too much. Petra clumsily obeying, spreading her legs;  “There we are, so good for me.” 

The words go start to her cunt, followed shortly by his fingers- the faintest brush over her swollen clit. She gasps, his name on her lips as she tries not to lose focus on where her own hand is, squeezing at his hard-on, trying to offer him some fraction of the pleasure he’s so persistent on pouring into her. A strained groan against her neck as his fingers start to swirl around her clit, a wet slide and building friction, already painfully close. 

“Fuck, Gale,” she hisses, haphazardly trying to yank at the laces of his pants- cursing herself that she can pick the strongest locks in Faerun but can’t yank open her lover’s fucking pants between the odd angle, not being able to properly see what she’s doing, the mouth at her pulse point, and the finger slowly pressing into her. 

“You already feel so perfect around me,” he speaks against her neck as a single thick warm finger pushes into her, opening her up, curling into her- her cunt clenching around him, her head thumping back against the pillows as she gasps. Soul sex aside, it’s the thickest thing she’s had in her in years, her own thin nimble fingers not comparing to his broad palms and long thick fingers. 

“Please, please, Gale,” she breathes, not sure if she’s asking for more fingers or for help undoing his pants. Maybe both. 

She gets a kiss beneath her ear, another finger pushing into her- slow and methodical in his pace. Not seeking to push her into immediate orgasm again, but to stretch her further apart, to see how deep he can fill her with the twist of his fingers. That pleasure building, aching inside of her as his lips kiss up her ear. Small wet presses that sends little chills as he nears the pointed tips of her ears. Feeling herself coating his fingers in wet, slick and accepting as the press of his thick solid fingers. 

“You’re so beautiful, you’re taking my fingers so well,” he murmurs before kissing right at the point of her ear, nipping the sensitive skin and she jolts- face hot with pleasure and shame at how easy she is to take apart. 

Then he starts to pump his fingers, no longer idly stretching and curling, finding a rhythm as he rocks them in and out of her cunt. A desperate cry on her lips, fingers dragging in and out of her slick heat- toying and curling in to press at her nerves, only to pull back and push back in. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she cries, not able to come up with any other word- even when the laces of his pants finally come undone with her frantic tugging. Biting her lip and groaning when she can finally- finally, shove her hand down his pants, beneath his underwear, hard solid cock finally in her grasp as she barely manages to pull it free from his clothes. 

“Fuck,”Gale grits out, a rare curse for the wizard- for once all other words but profanity failing him. His fingers in her cunt pause as she wraps her own around him. The hand on her ribs pulls her tighter, as she feels the heat of him against her palm. Can feel the weight of his cock, can trace the veins along his length as she runs her fingers over him- the stick of precum when she touches the head. Gale breathing rough and ragged against her temple. 

“Gods, I can’t even get my fingers around you,” she blurts out, taking the rare chance to be the talkative one- surprised by just how thick he is in her hand. She’s no halfling or gnome, but her favorite wizard stands a good foot or more taller than her- size difference palpable in how her fingers struggle to meet around him. 

He bites beneath her ear,rocking his fingers back into her- pace harsher and rough as she tries to stroke him. Smearing precum down his cock as best she can, trying to make an easier slide of her hand up and down his cock, feeling it twitch against her fingers. A rough ragged groan against her skin, her insides clenching as his fingers fuck into her- thoughts of how his cock will feel, how much more it’ll split her open, making the drag of his fingers that much slicker. 

“So pretty in my arms, love- right where you belong, so sweet and desperate for me,” he rasps against her ear and she squeezes her fingers around him, feeling the stutter and stall in his hand inside of her. The strained growl against her jaw, his expression furrowed and tense- his jaw visibly clenched, eyes clenched shut. Perhaps the first time he’s fully taken his eyes off of her. 

He doubles his efforts between her thighs, working his fingers more harshly into her, fucking his fingers roughly into her. Each thrust and drag along her insides making her sees stars and not just the ones he’s conjured for her. Pleasure spiking higher and higher, building her up- her cunt clenching around him. She tries to work her own hand faster too, cursing herself for not having more experience with this sort of anatomy. 

And then a thought, a singular thought manages to surge above the fog his fingers have put into her mind. She needs it to be wetter, slicker, his precum helping but not enough for her liking. Her gestures are sloppy and messy, haphazard with need- pulling her hand off of him, he curses faintly, the feeling of his eyes back on her. She leans forward just a little to drool against her hand, gathering as much spit and saliva as she can, strands straining from her lips. Spit dribbling down her chin and she can only hope he’s not disgusted by the sight, but it’s left her hand wet. Another ragged breath, inhale and exhale against her as she wraps her spit slick fingers around him. 

His lips surge forward, catching her own in a messy crash, teeth clanging together as he kisses her- his tongue swiping to catch the spit that clings to her her skin, hungrily groaning into her mouth. She tries to keep up, tightens her grip as much as she can without fearing hurting him, her hand sliding up and down much easier with the glide of her drool and his precum. The piss poor excuse for lube allowing her to at the very least move her hand faster, trying to match the pace he’s set with his fingers inside of her. His palm presses down more firmly, the heel of hand finding her clit. A rough tempest of pleasure jolting through her nerves. 

And it’s a rough mix of kisses, moving hands. Being fucked apart by his fingers, grinding against her clit, pushing her closer and closer. A echoing squelch as he takes her apart, the wet slide of flesh against flesh as she strokes his cock- the hungry groans and soft sounds of their kisses, everything consuming her every sense. Pushing her closer and closer, coil pulling tighter, tighter. The drag and tease of him inside of her, the grind against her sensitive clit- the promise of what’s come with his cock twitching in her hand, the bite of his teeth against her lower lip. 

The world seems to split apart, crack open, and fall away from her- everything crashed into pleasure, thrown over the edge again. Twitching and writhing beneath his hand, hips thrashing and fucking herself through the shocks. The faint curse and snarl against her lips, the twitch in her hands- the heat of seed spilling over her fingers and hip

Then she’s falling, world truly carrening out from beneath her, yelping as her ass thumps painfully into the muck. A sharp jolt of pain through her tailbone, Gale trying to tug her closer, squeezing her tightly as the world physically shifts around them, his face burying into her hair. 

“Gods damn it.” 

Petra tries to process the sudden mix of just plain fucking pain. The cold cling of mud to her ass, blinking through the blissed out fog in her mind- no longer coated in the green blue glow of a shifting sky. No longer is her ass burried in a soft silken mass of blankets and sheets, now aching in the cold cling of muddy shadow curse dirt. The only light a mounted torch with faint flickering orange flames. There’s no traces of Gale’s illusions, just him and Petra- naked and sweaty in a patch of mud. The wizard holding her tightly, his face hidden in the top of her head- possibly the most bashful she’s ever seen him, even in their awkward little flirting moments, she’s never known him to physically hide his expression from her. 

“Gale… honey?” She says, using a rare term of endearment for her- those usually his territory. 

“Mmhm,” he hums vaguely against her scalp. 

“I have mud on my ass.” 

“As do I.��� 

“Is there a particular reason why?” She tries, trying not to laugh as she tries to understand why he’s suddenly thrown them into the muck- if he wanted to rut in the dirt, she wouldn’t have been opposed to it, but it seems a little sudden and out of character for a man who still tries desperately to smell like lavender and bath oils while traipsing through the wilderness for days on end. 

“Ah well,” he murmurs, finally pulling back and allows her to see his face- cheeks ruddy, sweat beading his skin, his eyes looking down at his slick wet fingers, “Some conjuring and illusionary spells require… concentration to be maintained. And while my multitasking abilities are certainly exemplary,that focus can be particularly hard to keep when…” 

“When you’re getting jerked off?” 

“Not the wording I would have chosen, but- yes,” he admits, still avoiding her eyes. 

And she tries- she truly tries, biting her lip and gritting her teeth, because she wants to be mindful of his embarrassment. But her stomach tenses as a rush of laughter burbles out, snorting as giggles turn to cackles, pressing her hands to her mouth- body aching as she cracks up. 

She made him cum so hard the fucking spell broke. It’s so ridiculous, it’s so asinine, she can’t help but laugh- the pain in her tailbone now eclipsed by way her belly aches in laughter. And it only dies when she looks back at Gale, his head bowed slightly still- his eyes avoiding her and guilt eats at her heart. A part of her having hoped he’d be laughing along, that he’d see the humor in this. 

“Gale..” She whispers his name, her voice a little ragged and rough. 

“My apologies, I- this is not how I wanted this night to go for us, for you,” he explains, face far too contrite and shamed for what is just a silly little mishap, “I think, perhaps, another night if I conserve more of my energy during the day than I did today, I should be able to maintain the illusions for longer.” 

“Gale…” 

“Or perhaps, I can do just a little more research, see if I can find variations that require less concentration or maybe none at all,” he prattles onward, “I swear, my love, I can give you the night you deserve, I just may need more preparation than I expected, but I will make this up to you, I’ll-” 

“Gale!” She yells his name more firmly, finally looking at her- his eyes soft and vulnerable and she feels like she’s scolded a puppy but she leans forward to cup his face, “There is nothing for you to make up for.” 

“We’re lying in mud, my dear.” 

“Yes, we are lying in the mud and my stomach is streaked in cum because I jerked you off so hard you forgot how to be wizard for a minute- I’m not mad, it’s really fucking funny,” she reiterates, nuzzling his nose with hers as she tries to swallow her giggles- desperately trying to get him to just laugh. His lips curl into a shadow of a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach those big brown eyes. 

“Perhaps- but I didn’t bring you here to make you laugh, I brought you here to give you a perfect night, to make the joining of our bodies as beautiful as the joining of our souls. And we are lying in mud, you deserve more… I want to give you more.” 

“Gale, the night we joined souls you started off by showing me a book of people sixty-nining.” 

“A very poignant and beautiful book about newlyweds becoming one in every sense of the word-”

“By putting their mouths on each other’s genitals.” 

“That was one aspect of the process, yes- however-” 

She silences him with a kiss, soft and chaste- just enough to muffle the words threatening to pour from his lips. Petra pulls just a half breath away, leaning her forehead against Gale’s. Feeling the warmth of him, the cling of the sweat on both of them, smelling the salt of it on him. 

“I love you,” she murmurs, whispers it and hopes he can feel the adoration she pours into every syllable, meeting his gaze head on as her voice cracks, “I love you so fucking much and you’re so so much more than I deserve- and if you cannot believe that, trust that I do, that I truly mean it.” 

“I do, I truly do, I just, everything you’ve done for me, everything that you are- you deserve the world.” 

“And yet the only thing I want from it is you.” 

“Petra…” 

“So, for a moment, worry less about what you think I deserve and listen to what I want,” she asks, murmuring against his lips, skimming her thumb over his cheekbone, “I don’t need perfection and I don’t need pageantry and I don’t care if it’s messy or funny or weird- I want you, I need you. So please, let me have you. Don’t pull away, don’t scuttle off and worry yourself to pieces because something went wrong. Laugh with me, kiss me, fuck me- gods damn it.” 

“Anything for you, dear,” he says and their lips come together again, another reverent press of their mouths- she places her palm against his shoulder, pushing softly.

Quick witted as ever, he gets the idea- laying back for her and shifting off of his side, onto his ass properly as she throws a leg over his hips. His still hard cock bumping against her cunt as she settles on top of him. Breaking their kiss to pepper them across his jaw, nipping at his flesh through his beard, kissing down the marks that curl across his neck. Following them to the middle of his chest, where the orb burned through his flesh- pressing a kiss where the skin is forever bruised blue. The deep rumble of a groan in his throat making heat rush between her thighs. 

She sits back a bit, looking down at him- sweat tangled hair, ruddy cheeks, chest laid bare beneath her, and the faint orange glow of the torch light. Her hands run up his chest, thick and broad beneath her- body hair the roughest part of him, scratching beneath her palms. 

“Absolutely perfect,” she whispers, raking her nails along the swell of his pecs. 

“My thoughts exactly,” he returns, his hands gripping her hips as he smears a thumb through the streaks of cum still on her skin, and she can’t resist rolling her eyes- as if she wasn’t the one to initiate this round of corniness. 

Through the flickers of amber light, she notices a flash of deep purple fabric- Gale’s sleep shirt he’d tossed aside earlier. She lifts up a little further on her knees, leaning over him to reach for it, twisting her fingers in the soft fabric. 

“Eep!” She yelps at the sudden heat of his tongue and mouth on her chest, a sharp nip to the underside of her breast- “That is not why I was leaning over!” 

He smiles and laughs against her chest as she playfully swats at his chest, settling back to her position- his tunic still dangling from her fingers. Gale smiling up at her, too handsome for her to feel any measure of malice. 

“You can hardly blame for falling to temptation, especially when it comes to you.” 

“You underestimate just how much I’m willing to blame you for anything,” she teases before shifting forward just slightly- “Lift your back up a bit for me?”

“Of course,” he obliges, quickly getting her intent as they softly arrange his sleep shirt on the ground- it’s no four poster bed, but it’ll get his back out of the mud. 

“Not much, but-” 

“I feel positively pampered.” 

“Well, I do live to spoil you,” she teases back, considering for a moment wrangling his pants and underwear down further- his cock still the only thing that’s freed. But, that also means his ass has a modicum of coverage against the mud. Spoiling him again- obviously. 

Petra keeps one hand steady on his chest and the other reaches beneath her, feeling again the heat and weight of his cock in her hand. She hums, whines as she steadies her grip around the base of him- a groan deep in his chest, rumbling beneath her as she drags the head of his cock along her cunt. Her body aches with need as she lines him up with her entrance, Gale's hands grip her tighter. His fingers dip into her skin as his breath hitches and his jaw clenches tight. 

And she sinks down, her voice straining into a wordless cry as the head of his cock slides into her. Barely even inside of her and already stretching her wide, even having had him in her hand, but she needs to take a moment- not expecting just how much she’d be split open.Not painful, far too slick and ready for it to do anything feel incredible, if just a little new for her. 

A strained creak in his tone: “That’s it, no rush- take your time, if it’s too much, you only need to say the word.” 

“Gods no, no, it feels good- really fuckin’ good,” she assure him, voice rough and breathy, biting her lip as she starts to slowly lower herself down further, “So, so fucking good, fuck.” 

“There you are, taking me so well- perfect around me, like you were made for me,” he praises, voice gritted and his fingers grasping her tighter as her cunt clenches around him, the adoration stirring her insides as his cock buries within them. 

Every inch a deeper press, a tighter stretch, never painful but always full- like he could truly split her apar at any moment. But it’s never too much, the drag and sink of him perfect, absolutely perfect. A babble of breathless noise and nonsense on her tongue as she he carves a path into her- her hips finally settling when she’s about to scream out and there’s no more of him to take. Feeling the faint scratch of his body hair where they join, barely tugged down pants rough against her thighs and ass. 

The back of his head hits the dirt, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat- his eyes closed as his moves just slightly beneath her. Bracing his feet in the dirt, knees bending slightly as his hips lift up. Bucking inside of her, a sharp lightning strike of pleasure ripping through her- lurching her forward body forward, bracing her hands against his chest as she cries out. 

“Fuck!” 

“Ah, sorry, are you-” 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, I’m good, gods, I’m good,” she rushes to assure him, digging her nails into his skin, leaning forward to kiss at his jaw, groaning against his skin when it grinds him against her insides. 

Tentatively, she starts to rock herself on top of him, cursing as she starts to lift off him just a bit, whining at the drag of him inside of her. His hands allowing her to move, guiding her gently despite the harsh dig of his nails, digging red ragged crescents into her skin- blue bruises forming beneath his harsh touch. 

Petra barely pulls up before she lowers herself back down, his name on her lips as she’s filled with him again. Her grip on him only growing more desperate- more bruising, as she starts to find a harsher, quicker pace- bouncing herself on his cock, body thrumming and pleasure twisting tight as she tries to slam down hard enough on him. Tries to hit the right spot inside of her, grind her clit just right against his skin as she tries to set her pace. Her motions frantic and desperate, smearing and streaking slick across his skin and clothes, every desperate slam of her hips making her that much wetter, that much more accommodating, body frantic to welcome him into her over and over again. 

“Gods, your cunt doesn’t even want to let go of me, look so pretty with my cock inside of you,” he groans, her inside clenching at his choice of words, Gale’s cheeks flushed beneath the dark hair of his beard- his face screwed tight with his pleasure as his cock twitches inside of her squeezing walls. Petra in a frenzy as she fucks herself stupid, rides him as hard as she can, getting pushed closer and closer to the brink- pathetically close to her end, just a little more, a little more. 

His hands move further back,  curling around her ass, sinking his fingers into the plush flesh- her whimpering at the grope, the feeling of his warm digging into her- squeezing her so tightly. Harsh and firm, when hips roll into her, thrusting in as she sinks down- striking the very nerves she couldn't quite hit hard enough, a torrent of heat and need, stars dancing before her eyes without any magic. The force of his hips jolts her, her shaky arms giving out, her body collapse flush to his chest, nails digging into him as her face presses into his sweat slick skin. Pliant and boneless as Gale takes over the pace, gripping his ass tight between his hands and steadying her as he fucks her apart. 

And it’s pitiful how much better it is with him in control, Gale knowing her body and what she needs or perhaps just that much better at giving it to her. Harsh brutal snaps of his hips, every rut of him into her making her body thrum, her mind blanked with every strike at her deepest parts. Carving her out, splitting her open, burying himself into her over and over again- the wet squelch of him into her. Holding her vise tight to his chest, her sensitive tits scratched by his body hair a his motions rock and shift her against him. One hand leaving her ass to wrap around her middle, holding her tighter, clinging closer- his face buried to her temple as he fucks into her, uses her, splits her insides, and makes her body fit hims so perfectly. Not even able to hear or comprehend the whispers and praise whispered against her sweat tangled hair- gripping him tighter, Gale inside her and yet somehow nowhere near close enough. Not able to cling tight enough, not able to burrow far enough into his skin as she burns beneath the sharp bruising pace he drives into her. 

Then it all snaps, world shattering and cracking apart, crying out against his chest- mind empty with nothing but pleasure, clenching tight as he pulses inside of her. Squeezing around him, thrashing within his grasp, toes and fingers clenching- curling against him, around him, into him.

A few more harsh thrusts, rushed and hurried into her, followed by a rush of heat. The spill of cum into her insides, burning hot in her cunt, filling her- flooding her, warm in her fucked raw body. She pants and sighs against his skin, breaths rough as she comes back to earth and with no falling this time. He holds her like a promise, tight and reverent, kissing across her scalp and forehead as he rolls through the last of his ebbs of pleasure. Messy as he fills her with his cum, whining against his flesh, she feels it split out between the space where they connect. Filled to the brink with him, overflowed and spilling over with it, feeling it stick and cling to their thighs, their hips, where they meet. The languid slowly roll of him into her fucking his seed back into her, before his hips finally still as the last drop fills hers her, only to drip out again. 

They lay in the flickering torch light, skin wet with sweat and settling into each other’s flesh. His heart thunders and pounds beneath his skin, where her ear is pressed tight to him. Able to hear the desperate race and her own hammers in kind, in pace with each other, some relief that may be as ruined and ragged by her as she is by him. Only the sound of thundering hearts and them catching their breath, the faintest chirp of insects from the shadows. 

Slowly, steadily, the moments tick forward but time hardly feels like it’s touching them. Only the calming of their breaths and hearts marking the passage. His hands stroke and rub along her back, tracing her sweaty spine, both reach down to idly rub and stroke her lower back, pressing gentle reverence into her aching muscles. His lips burning adoration where they kiss her scalp, skim the scar of her forehead- she shifts to tuck her chin against his chest, looking up at his soft loving gaze. 

His hands push the hair off her forehead, cup her cheeks, thumbs stroking over the freckles that mark her face. A breath of a kiss against her forehead, her eyes closing beneath the touch. 

“Absolutely beautiful,” he praises, her eyes opening, her nose wrinkling as she blows a raspberry at him and his stupidly precious compliments- he laughs, “And a complete brat.” 

“Hmm, you love it.” 

“That I do,” he reponds to her teasing, another kiss and she meets his his lips. Sighing softly, knowing they can’t stay like this forever. 

Gently, she sits herself back up,Gale’s hands roaming down her sides- not missing the crease of disappointment in his brow when she’s no longer pressed flushed to his chest. She blinks, swallowing a gasp as she looks down at him. Rough raised scratches now mark his chest, thin red lines where her nails streaked his flesh and just managed to break it. Gently, her nails brush the marks. 

“Sorry, I’ll rub some salve and balsam ointment over it for you when we get back,” she promises, guilt creeping in- her nails are polished and due to her left, often have more dirt on them than she’d like- she could cause him an infection, “Maybe I should learn a healing cantrip or two…” 

“Thought you believed relying too much on healing magic was a crutch,” he asks, smiling up at her as he chimes the words she’s spoken so many a times when him or Shadowheart try to heal her when she only needs a bandage or a few dozen stitches. 

“I mean, for me, yes,” she murmurs, knowing it’s hypocritical- but it’s different when it’s him- he smiles, placing his hands over hers. She pulls her palms from his marked skin, bringing them to the press of his lips. 

“Worry not, dear- I hardly mind being marked by you,” he promises her, smiling against her knuckles and her nose wrinkles, his sweet words stirring her heart and only one response falls to her lips. 

“Blegh,” she spats, mock gagging at his corny existence, even if her cheeks are flushed and her heart thumping- he drops her hands, reaching out quick and giving a small sharp swat of his hand to her ass- “Ah, hey!” 

“Do not make gagging noises whilst I am inside of you,” he hisses, voice raised and incredulous- with just the softest edge of a laugh, his lips pulling back to a smile as she giggles. 

“Fine,” she reponds, rolling laguidly off of him- letting his cock slip out of her and plopping into the mud beside of him, giving a pointed look- “Blech!” 

“Darling-” 

“What I’ll no longer gag while you’re inside of me,” she promises, teasing him and his choice of words. His brown eyes rolls, a tut on his lips as he looks at her, before a different glint places. 

“Well, there can certainly be exceptions to the rule, should you wish,” he teases and after a beat, his meaning catches her- a way he’d be tucked inside of her that he’d accept her gagging, the idea of tasting him, and feeling him in her throat… 

“Is that something you’d wish?” She asks back, smiling a little- grin only widing when he clears his throat. 

“Another time, right now…” His voice trails and she watches him shift slight, a a little strained groan of pain his throat. 

“Your back killing you?” 

“Terribly so,” he admits, shaking his head and starting to sit up with a small grunt- his old achey muscles and joints always giving him issues. But it doesn’t stop him from pulling her over, tucking her into his lap as he sits; “Here, lets get you out out of the mud, dear.” 

She giggles, nuzzling into his neck as he make her plop her cum and dirt streaked ass in his lap. And as the afterglow fades and reality settles in her bones, she starts to realize some increasingly pressing concerns. The two are streaked in sweat, mud, and fluids. Her fingers brushing flecks of dirt off Gale’s shoulders, where his skin still met the dirt. His hair messy and tangled with little clumps of dirt, his skin warm and smelling of sweat and musk, Petra unable to help inhaling against his chest. 

Beneath them, his shirt is caked in mud, grinding into the dirt under their bodies. His only kind of on pants streaked with cum, clearly stained, dirt on back of it. Her own clothes are tossed in the dirt as well, having hit the dirt through the illusion. Mud on her back and some clinging to her ass, streaked where his fingers groped her- a mess of cum between her thighs. 

And they do have to go back to camp. 

“Uhm, do you have a spell to clean us and our clothes?” She asks, traces her nails over his neck. 

“Yes and no,” he explains, expression slightly tense, one hand on her hip, the other gesticulating with a pointed finger, “Prestidigitation can quite easily clean our clothes, with a bit of folding for mine perhaps, and is cantrip as well- fairly simple, only lasts an hour I”m afraid, but that would certainly be long enough to get back and safely tuck ourselves away in our tent.” 

“Mmhm..” 

“However, it is specific to objects and those of a certain footage, which- you and I do not qualify as. And between our fights of the day and my illusionary work, it’ll take a good nights rest before I can cast much more than a cantrip, so…” 

“So, our clothes will be clean, but we’ll be traipsing back with dirt on our skin and reeking of sex,” she double checks because there’s no river near the clearing- the camp using warmed basins of conjured magic for a while now. Which are back at camp. Where their companions are. 

“Or we could stay here for a night…” 

“And keep tally of the number of shadow cursed insects that inevitably crawl up our assholes.” 

“There are the bugs…” 

“I think we may have to face the music on this one,” she says, knowing sculking and sneaking back to camp is not a choice- not with Gale’s knees. 

“Alas, reality returns far too soon,” he muses, looking down at her where she’s still balanced within his arms and her cheek to his chest, “Still the night you wanted?” 

She giggles- they’re caked in mud, sweat, and cum. Sitting in the muck of a cursed lands, the threat of returning to camp to prying eyes and questioning voices. The only reason they can even safely sit here with monsters prying flesh from their limbs and darkness creeping into their souls is the blessing of a captured pixie. Demands of goddesses and moonstruck kingdoms ran by cults all on the horizon. But his arms are wrapped flush around her, the smell of his skin in her nose, the ache of where he was inside her. Skin marked in his love. 

“It’s perfect.”

[asheepinthenight]

Hi! I read your IF for the first time recently and completed the survey so I didn't think I'd necessarily comment here, but then you gave this answer to the transformation ask: "I expect most MCs will transform metaphorically, but depending on your choices, they may get a few magical additions, too! I don't want to spoil too much, so that's all I'll say about it for now!"

May I say I literally squealed? I didn't expect actual physical changes would be a thing, so I just dumped that thought into the "impossible dreams" related to this game. This made me genuinely so happy! My MC is extremely open minded and fascinated by magic, so it's very likely it will go that way in my playthrough's case!

Oh and while I'm at it, since I'm writing already, I may as well ask something! So, I'll start by saying I love Hawk. I love Hawk so much. They may very well be among my favorite ROs in any IF I've read, despite the story clearly being in it's early'ish stages still. Now, thing is... While I feel like my MC has a pretty "easy time" getting close to Shea (strictly platonic feelings), I have noticed that in Hawk's case, the type of MC I have has less... "gentle" interactions with them. I don't mean Hawk seems to dislike my MC or anything (it doesn't appear to be the case) - but basically, my MC is soft and obedient overall, but also very responsible, and tries to manage everything as good as he can, be it cooking, not offending in any circumstances and what not. Basically, he's as non-problematic as possible. And from what I saw when exploring other choice options out of curiosity, I have come to realize most of the time interactions that could be considered closer to "emotional" are rather linked to MCs who are more clumsy and what not. Now, I'm not under the impression the game "favors" any kind of MC or that the relationships use "points" so I'm not worried per se, but I was curious if this will even out later on (as in, if some kind of scenes will be more exclusive to my type of MC), or is it simply that less "independent" MCs have an easier time early on due to Hawk's personality?

I just can't stress enough that I never felt as if my playthrough was lacking or anything! I just noticed more stuff when I read through some "out of character" options (as in, OOC for my MC) out of curiosity! And well, it got ME curious about the structure and the relationship!

I hope the question doesn't come up as too weird - like I said, the story is great as it is anyway!

I like having the surveys as an option for people, just for my own curiosity, so it will be interesting to eventually see how many MCs are hesitant to get involved with magic and how many are like, "Yes, I would like ALL of it, please!"

Those are great questions about the tone of Hawk's interactions with MC—answers are below the cut due to length!

Hawk is still very much at the stage where they think that MC will just be a brief, neutral presence in their life—no need to interact beyond the minimum. Just another being living in their tower, doing their own thing! The only big exception to that so far is MCs who are especially sensitive to their abrasiveness and/or prone to getting themselves into hazardous situations. If MC seems like they can handle Hawk's brusqueness and take care of themself (even if they're just pretending at it), Hawk will leave them to their own devices. But even though Hawk pretends they don't really care about anyone outside their tiny circle of friends (though it would be difficult to even get Hawk to call them "friends"), they very much do. So if MC seems like they're particularly sensitive to Hawk's whole... everything or are in dire need of assistance, Hawk will let their own guard down a little to help them without being too much of a jerk. It won't be too much longer before all MCs start seeing a softer side of them, though. More anxious and clumsy MCs just get an advance preview! MC's personality will flavor their relationship (e.g. MCs who like to banter with Hawk will see Hawk start that banter more often, and MCs who don't tend to banter will often get more sincere responses), but only specific, major choices will ever lock an MC out of a relationship with either RO. (Those choices will be pretty obvious and will probably even get OOC notes in the text to point them out!)

If you're curious about "points" specifically, TE doesn't have romance points, in the traditional sense, that will direct you to or away from either RO. In addition to a few personality variables for MC, there are a number of variables that track how the ROs view MC, but none of these will lock MC out of or into a relationship with either RO. They're specifically for making the ROs' actions feel consistent with how MC interacts with them. For example, there's a stat for each RO for the aforementioned banter as well as stats for things like trust and more traditional "romance" stats like flirting. Although some interactions may feel less romantic/friendly or may not appear depending on specific variables, that doesn't mean the relationship is doomed by any means! It may just be a little slower burn.

So this is a very long answer, but hopefully it helps! I see TE as more an interactive novel than a "game" that's focused on hitting target stats to pass checks. The variables it does have are solely for making the story feel true to who a given MC is and the choices they make.

[baronaliswritingcorner]

TOS Replay Stray Thoughts #1:

Ahh, playing Tales of Symphonia is like coming home. ❤️

It's been some time since I wrapped up my years-long 100% completion run, so just for fun, I'll provide some wisened/wisecracking commentary along the way. Starting...NOW!!!

-As I'm playing the GC version, it's funny how I went from "the NA opening instrumental is totally rad and Starry Heavens is generic anime schlock" to, uh, kinda the opposite.

To this TOS veteran, said instrumental still "represents" the game for me, but in retrospect removing the Japanese songs is a really cynical practice. (And I'm saying this as someone who doesn't care for Modern Tales at all.)

-HNNNNGGHHH THAT ISELIA THEME JUST INSTANTLY DROWNS YOU WITH NOSTALGIA JUST LISTEN TO THAT RUSTIC AIR

(Seriously, what's up with the different instrument in the PS2/OST versions??? Dunno what that sound is, but it's no good.)

-Who is Vidarr? What's his deal? No one knows, but I'm thinking he's in desperate need of a character study -- one diving into the complex themes of Do Not Get In Our Way and Ugh I Lost To A Bunch Of Kids.

-"I gave the Chosen a lifetime's supply of gels for her journey!"

Then where are they, guy? 'Cause I didn't get a single one when they joined my party.

(There's a story here...were they lost in a tragic accident? Or is Kratos a gel addict?)

-"What are you saying? Do you realize how many died here because of him?"

Scott Menville condemning Scott Menville.

-Kratos in Triet: Lloyd, you are growing stronger -- you've realized you can't just swing your swords mindlessly.

Also Kratos in Triet: Your swordsmanship is bad and you should feel bad.

(Both in-character! But they're bundled too closely.)

-Colette: ohnoitsbroken

That needed another take.

-Lloyd shoots a Renegade with the Sorcerer's Ring and that frees him because??? (As you can tell, nitpicking's a habit of mine.)

-One storytelling flaw of TOS -- particularly in the first act -- is that it's a little *too* frontloaded with foreshadowing. It practically spells out Colette's fate no less than three times before you leave Iselia! That resigned "yeah" of hers on Lloyd's balcony was enough.

-I love Clumsy Colette, but I've always felt Ditzy Colette comes off as a little too dumb/mean-spirited. (Never liked the "you need to act more Chosen-like!" scene early on) I guess you could say it's a coping mechanism of sorts to distract herself from her inevitable death, but I don't know if that works.

-"You got re-ject-ed!"

See, even Genis knows Lloyd and Colette are meant to be. Oh, sure, he's laughing at Lloyd's expense now, but he's crying on the inside. I promise.

Annnnd that's it for now! I'll be posting more thoughts on the regular, so stay tuned for further Tales of Symphonia geekiness!

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

Bordeaux

Pairing: Marc Spector x f!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: She's not exactly sure why she's invited Marc to Bordeaux.

Warnings: mentions of the death of a loved one, written in two hours, poorly edited (author has BDE)

A/N: Couldn't get this idea out of my head ever since I watched Un Beau Matin. Any dialogue I used from the movie is bolded down below. English translations will be given at the end of the fic. French is not my native language, so please excuse any mistakes.

I don't own photos, dividers or characters.

Élodie had invited her, once again, to the villa in Bordeaux. Had tempted her really, with the promise of sunshine and a warm, swimmable, ocean. Two things that were a rarity to come by in London, and a luxury spilled in abundance in the South of France. 

There was also room that would be left empty, Élodie had said, a friend of a friend had cancelled last minute (so much the better for everyone else, if you asked her sister), and if she wanted to, she could bring a friend. 

Friend, being a word heavily insinuated and laden with worries unsaid. 

A word that she bravely took at face value and approached Marc with the offer. 

Though it was easy to play oblivious to her sister’s intentions, it was less possible to ignore her own motivations. 

Why Marc?

At face value, it was because there was a loneliness in him that she felt was reflected in herself. Because he was the only person she dared call a ‘friend’, ever since moving to England and isolating herself on the little island. 

She liked to believe Marc was a friend. They went out for lunch almost every week and usually, Friday evenings, she’d come over and get a little tipsy on wine, tipsy enough that her words would slur and her well-practised English would slip and fall into her mother tongue. Once or twice a month they go and see a play or movie, or to the orchestra, with drinks before and dinner after. 

Those nights, the formal nights, Marc is partial to an all-black getup, a black dress shirt that he leaves unbuttoned, a black suit. It’s an image that alights a squiggly feeling inside of her, one a clumsy child’s hands would make with a broken blue crayon on paper. 

Other than that, sometimes Marc comes over for brunch on Sunday mornings, a concept he’d introduced her to and one that she’s come to grudgingly see the appeal in. He sips coffee with her and eats buttered toast and makes her laugh with crude little pequin peppers of jokes. 

But never, from either side of the conversation, has there been any hint towards inviting more people into their bubble. 

Her excuse is simple, she doesn’t know anyone else to invite. Everyone she knows is on the other side of the Channel. 

Marc’s excuse is not so obvious to her. She squints through the parchment papers of them, and can’t come up with a satisfactory answer. 

She wonders that maybe the reason why she hasn’t bothered herself to find more people she’d be able to call friends was because she was happy with Marc’s quiet companionship. His not-so-smiling-smiles, the way his eyes crinkle when he gives her a belly-laugh like a giant Ferroro Rocher ball, wrapped up in golden paper. 

She’s moved to England for almost a year now, and she’d only been lonely the first two months, before she ran into Marc in a coffee shop, tears in her eyes and ready to call this new chapter over before it was written. 

Sometimes, she tries to reason that it’s because he’s an American, a foreigner in a new continent. That his move was more intense than hers, and together, they found each other in the margins and happily decided to set up camp. 

His Americanness is also a blessing in disguise. The dreaded oral exams of her youth were always in a quite generic, American accent. When moving to London, she’d had a false sense of security that there would be a very short adaptation time to the English accents, since she could understand the unobstructed audio of the woman saying I like bananas very much. What is your favourite fruit? in her BAC listening exams. 

Coming home from work, her head is pounding from the struggle of trying to sort through the various inflections, tones, speeds of the seemingly infinite variations of a single accent. She feels betrayed by the French public education system. Nobody had prepared or warned her about this. 

When she talks to Marc, however, it’s easy to understand him. It relaxes the joints of her brain, soothes it over. It’s the reassurance that she’s not in fact stupid and incompetent, things her coworkers must surely think of her after she’s asked them for the fourth time to repeat themselves. 

She could also argue and say that she had already pushed away many of her own friends, heaping handfuls of time before her move. That the very reason why she changed countries was to start fresh, and that inviting her old university friends to the vacation would be awkward and heavily-charged with betrayal, a step back. 

Despite all this, she hasn’t been able to ignore the true reasons underneath her choice of Marc. 

Quite simply, she could have just said she had no one to invite over. 

It would have resulted in a decently heated exchange or two, about wasting her life, about using her youth to find someone to settle down with before she was too old for it. 

Not a pleasant experience for what should have been easy vacation, to kick back and destress. 

But at least she would have had an easy mind about her own choice.

Yet, looking at Marc now, playing with her niece, she’s not sure she regrets it; even if her mind has been plagued with the why of it ever since they arrived.

He’s letting her niece play with his cheeks, letting her hands push around an imaginary bubble of air in his mouth.

The two of them had been able to surpass the language barrier quite easily it seems. Though little Anaïs, at only five, had been sure to show him that she was quite well-versed in English by rattling off the alphabet and counting to twenty-five for him, the difficulties only starting from seventeen. 

Relaxed and sunkissed is a nice look on him. 

Laughter comes easier to him now, even if their jokes and stories are poorly translated and lose a lot of their mirth in English. The smile lines are deeper than the frowns, the delicate folds around his eyes like embroidery almost always present. 

In London, Marc combs back his hair meticulously. She’s seen him do it, grumbling and swearing under his breath when it doesn’t fall the way he likes it to. 

In Bordeaux, he lets it loose, free from the obligations of work and life and the fresh air and the saltwater bringing out the best of it. His short curls move as if they have a mind of their own. 

She longs to thread her fingers between them, to sink her teeth into the exposed, caramel-like freckled skin of his chest as if it were cotton candy and salt-water taffy. 

She had meant to be reading. 

The sight in front of her, the view of the ocean just a stone’s throw behind the two, was much more appealing at the moment. 

The glassed door opens and there’s the gentle swish of Élodie’s sandals, the faint thud of a tray of lemonade and wine hitting the table beside her. 

“T’as soif?” 

She shakes her head, murmurs her thanks. She’s the type of sleepy that comes from too much rest and sunshine. 

The hinges of the chair squeak as her sister sits down beside her. 

The moment before it happens, she knows it’s coming. They’ve barely had any time alone together since her arrival, and Marc’s presence had already raised quite a lot of eyebrows, undeterred by the fact that they had separate rooms. 

It’s the perfect moment for some older sister grilling. Everyone’s retreated to their own rooms, or to town to stock up on some groceries and alcohol. 

Marc doesn’t understand French, Anaïs too little, and too preoccupied, to understand what they’re truly saying. 

She tsks and sets down her book a tad too harshly on the table, “Putain, Élodie-”

“J’ai rien dit!” she holds her hands up in defence. 

At the sudden sound of an argument in the making, Marc looks at the two of them, a crease forming in his eyebrows that fades as soon as she smiles back at him. 

The momentary distraction gives Anaïs the executive power to decide that a change in pace would be nice, and she pounces on him from behind. 

Marc’s taken aback but then he laughs out, turning behind him, “You’re a bit of a monkey aren’t you!” They tumble together onto the ground, the girl’s excited giggles swirling up into the ocean air. 

The sight warms her heart in ways that his all-black look does, and she knows better than to dive into those emotions. 

“Il est beau, ce Marc, non?” Though the question is teasing, though she’s heard it multiple times from the people in the villa, there’s an undercurrent of sisterly concern and worry. Despite all the troubles Élodie gives her, it’s a sound that pricks tears from her eyes, reminds her just how homesick she’s been this past year. 

She takes an exasperated breath and picks up her book again, “J’en sais rien.”

There’s a heavy pause, almost as if it exists outside of Marc’s happy world. She’s never heard him giggle like that before, it twists at her stomach in unignorable ways. 

“Tu l’aimes?” 

She turns an unread page and hopes the thundering of her heart isn’t too loud. 

Her sister’s eyes soften, out of the corner of her eye she sees her head tilt towards her direction, “C’est son souvenir qui t’empêche?”

“Non,” she concedes and picks at her thumb, then thumbs the corner of her books, letting the pages run under her finger. 

“Alors, c’est quoi ton problème? Chérie, ça fait presque cinq ans depuis sa mort et t’es encore jeune,” she rolls her eyes at this, it’s the same excuse every time. “T’as le droit d’aimer, d’être aimée.”

When it’s clear that she won’t respond, Élodie continues, slyly, “Alors, tu t’en fous que Marie l’aime bien?”

It stings like a bee, her words. The images that arise in her mind against her will are like poison, homebrewed alcohol. 

She stings back, “Élodie, t'es pire que maman. Laisse-moi tranquille.”

That manages to shut off the conversation, though there’s a sour taste in her mouth that also hangs in the air between her and her sister. 

With a squeal, Anaïs runs towards her mother, a grin pressed into her cheeks, “Maman!”

Élodie takes her daughter in her arms, kisses her cheeks, “Bonjour mon ange, tu t'amusais bien?” The girl nods, hugging her back. “T’as soif, alors?”

Marc gets up from the ground, and brushes off the dirt from his shorts. There’s a groan as he tries to stand up, and he rubs his back soothingly to combat against it. 

She treasures the sound he made, the gentle frown in his face and the soft way it faded away with the pain in his back. “Are you thirsty, Marc?” she calls out to him. He comes to stand in front of her, and he nods, an open smile hanging around his face like morning dew. “Wine? Or lemonade?”

As she pours him some wine, her niece some lemonade, Steven looks at her from the wine bottle with a dumbfounded expression, his eyes dark and serious with grief. 

A glance at him makes Marc wonder what kinda stick his alter’s got up his ass now. 

But the wine is refreshing, and it brushes away any thoughts of Steven and of the heated words the sisters had exchanged as he was playing on the ground. 

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond to, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly. (Part 2 to this is looking enticing lemme tell you)

Masterlist here, requests here.

Translations:

T'as soif? - Are you thirsty?

Putain, Élodie - Fuck, Elodie

J'ai rien dit! - I didn't say anything!

Il est beau, ce Marc, non? - He's pretty, this Marc, isn't he?

J'en sais rien - I don't know what you're talking about.

Tu l'aimes? - Do you love him?

C’est son souvenir qui t’empêche? - Is it his memory that's stopping you?

Alors, c’est quoi ton problème? Chérie, ça fait presque cinq ans depuis sa mort et t’es encore jeune - So what's your problem? Sweetheart, it's been almost five years since his death, and you're still young,

T’as le droit d’aimer, d’être aimée - You have the right to love, to be loved.

Alors, tu t’en fous que Marie l’aime bien? - So, you don't care that Marie likes him?

Élodie, t'es pire que maman. Laisse-moi tranquille. - Elodie, you're worse than Mom. Leave me alone.

Bonjour mon ange, tu t'amusais bien? - Hello, my angel, were you having fun?

[marshallpupfan]

Hopefully this isn't too weird or invasive a question, but I'm curious what draws you to Paw Patrol as an older fan, and also what your experience has been like in the fandom and as a collector? (I'm assuming you're an older fan and probably close to my age from the non-Paw Patrol media you share haha).

I am indeed one of its older fans, and I can think up a few reasons that keeps drawing me to it.

One I can say right away is the fact I have a big love for canines, thus I tend to gravitate towards anything with dogs (and wolves, depending on if they're heroes or villains). They make up plenty of my favorites characters, as some of you seen in one of my previous Asks, and I generally tend to enjoy things more when they're involved (a friend recently recommended an older game to me, which I enjoyed all the more because you got to travel around with your trusty dog).

Funnily enough, not too long ago, I took an interest in the Asterix and Obelix franchise because of its dog character, Dogmatix... and I was quite thrilled when I heard he was getting his own spinoff cartoon! Of course, it was only available in French at the time, but much to my luck, the first half of season one got dubbed in English and [officially] posted on Youtube, free to watch! I gave it a go, and I thought it was pretty good! If anyone's curious, click this link to check it out. And yes, this might've been a thinly-veiled attempt to talk about this cartoon somewhere, since there aren't many English-speaking fans. lol

Arquebus/Musketix is the best character.

But yeah, the pups are one of my biggest draws to PAW Patrol, and unlike some fans, I rather like it when other pups get added to the cast. Boomer and Claw both certainly helped renew some of my interest in the franchise, particularly during a time in which I felt things were going downhill. Hey, I just love dogs!

Obviously, Marshall's easily my biggest draw to PAW Patrol. I'll admit, I tend to take a far bigger interest in an episode when he actually gets some good attention... and it's why my interests start to wane when he doesn't. The dude's legit my #1 favorite animated character, so I suppose it's no surprise to hear I often tune in specifically for him. That's not to say I don't get enjoyment from the other pups, but I'm just so crazy about that spotted pup!

Another aspect that draws me to PAW Patrol is just how fun it tends to be (or used to be, but the modern seasons still have their moments). I don't want to go too deep into this because I don't want things to get too serious, but let's just say... life can be quite rough anymore, and it never seems to get much better. I often look for something that can help me escape that for a while, even if it's just for a half hour at a time. I found that PAW Patrol does that for me. It's cute, colorful, fun, doesn't try to be complex, and by the end, everything turns out okay. And if I need cheering up after a bad day, a certainly clumsy, spotted pup often always puts a smile on my face. Some days, I need that.

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As for my experiences with the fandom, I'd say it's been largely positive. I do tend to meet a lot of friendly people, many of which tend to be supportive and/or cheerful when I need it, and I generally enjoy interacting with most of them right back! I certainly don't regret being a part of it for the last five years or so.

With that said, I've had encounters that certainly weren't pleasant. I think everyone knows about my copycat by this point, so no need to retread that old ground. There's one infamous user out there who just seems to hate everything (unless it involves Everest), and he often turns hostile if you don't agree with his opinions. The same dude even tried arguing and verbally attacking those who work on PAW Patrol... including their families, too! Crazy guy. I've also encountered some fans who seem to make stuff up, believe their headcanon to be fact, and then become angry when people don't agree with them. I once had someone tell me Ryder is "gaslighting" Rubble, and... I don't even want to know what that means or why they believe that.

And in-regards to being a collector, the reception I often encounter has been quite positive, too. Most fans really seem to enjoy seeing my collection, even if it's just out of curiosity to see just how much merchandise they made of one single pup. I still get compliments on it all the time, from both fans and non-fans of Marshall, and I've even seen other folks who just think it's legit cool.

Surprisingly, I've only had one negative encounter so far, and it was, believe it or not, from someone who used to be a fan of PAW Patrol. She became one of those folks who encountered bad users, got tired of them, and then decided every fan must be awful... and of course, she tore into me because I "talk too much" about Marshall and deemed me a "freak" for collecting so much merchandise. Most of what she said was largely laced with swears and insults, and I'm sure she believes she put me in my place or something... though in truth, I was laughing at most of her replies. Why she felt the need to throw such a temper tantrum on me, I'll never know, but she didn't succeed in even the slightest to discourage me or anything. lol