Chapel Orahamm's Blog, page 3

BK_Moon, Lee Hyun-Min, Kim Hyun Soo: The Greatest Estate Developer

Released in 2021, The Greatest Estate Developer is an ongoing web manwha with a lot of character and a series of WTF moments that just make you eventually play along because the MC is OP and worth it.

I might have binge read this over the course of about three days and loved every minute of it. There aren’t a whole bunch of archs that take up time for the sake of taking up time. If anything, I wish there was just a little more breathing room built into the world so that it didn’t feel like he was going from one event to the next so quickly. That can be a downfall for some writing, but I think this one is pretty forgiving for it.

It kind of reminds me of Moonlight Sculptor – which I need to get around to a review on that later. With Estate Developer being an ongoing series, I really do hope that they actually end this one, where as Moonlight Sculptor kind of just stopped without a full wrap up. As is the curse of writers on many branching projects.

The art is on point for the character style. It doesn’t take itself to seriously and incorportates slapstick style cartooning when the need arises, which helps deliver comedy and levity to the story.

This is one of those ones that I could see revisiting in a couple of years to read all the way over again. I’m not entirely sure that I would have it on my now overflowing shelves, but I think if I were to run a manga coffee shop, it would definitely be on the shelves for folk to read from there. Its that kind of good where you can sit down and get lost in it with a cup of coffee for a solid couple of hours.

I’m also finding that I rather like how a lot of these over powered manwha don’t mess with a lackluster romance subplot but fully go along with the MC just doing their societal or anti-societal bit and getting on with their major character development and small friendships along the way. Some manga and a lot of fantasy books seem to go towards romantic subplots that never leave the reader feeling like the plot or the subplot was fully realized. Just a random observation.

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Hannah Whitten: For the Wolf

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This post contains affiliate links.

Hannah Whitten brought out For the Wolf, a mid-fantasy/romance in 2021. This is the first book in the series. It has been well received by the mass market community and publicized enough to get a lot of readers.

Having read a Court of Thorns and Roses recently, the similarities in structure and content was a bit much. Then again, having been written like a Beauty and the Beast retelling (but with a Red Riding Hood toss in) what can you actually hope for? Sometimes you just want a good B&B retelling, and that’s enough.

If it doesn’t sound like I’m enamored with the book, don’t get me wrong. I really did enjoy the read. The editing was done well. The sentence structure, cadence, and vocabulary were what I would expect from a 2020s author writing for an adult audience raised on young adult literature. The pacing felt like an editor had taken a strict hand to it and defined it down to word count rather than clarity – which is par for the course at this point with mid-fantasy novels.

Maybe my issue comes from the side characters not having enough screen to develop them into actual beings rather than tokens. Is that too much to be disappointed with a book? Maybe. I just wish there had been about four chapters interspersed throughout to help really develop more info on the two main side characters.

The interactions between the MC and the LI and the depth of the world build to me were more interesting than the MC’s sister’s arc. I got through maybe three of her chapters and then just didn’t care and started speed reading those sections. I wanted more of the woods and more of how that worked. Of the MC and LI interacting together and really developing a complex relationship. It instead really read more like a piece written up as a concept screenplay for a PG13 HBO production.

I would say if you liked ACOTAR then you really will enjoy this series. For me, I don’t really have much interest in reading the next book in the series. I don’t mind that I bought the Kobo edition for a couple bucks on some kind of sale. I don’t think that was a bad deal. It just might be something I have to be more aware of as I pick and choose stories to read from here on out. It isn’t fair to authors to review a book poorly only because I didn’t care for the storyline at a personal level. Objectively, the story worked. I’d say if you want a read that doesn’t require heavy emotional work, then it would make for a nice weekend.

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Scattering

“The tents? Really? There’s plenty to be had here if ya’ look,” Barz squawks.

I slump forward over my stead’s head to flick away detritus from his antenna. “I don’t see why it concerns you.” I shift back in my saddle and press him home to the stables.

“Strange people out there. Sure you wanna socialize with ‘em?” Barz sneers, spitting in the sand.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a prick, Barz?” I clear the saddle and lead my ant to its stall to curry the thin coating of grit from its carapace. I’d need to reapply its wards in the morning before patrol.

“Don’t be late for morning patrol. And take a bath. I don’t want to smell ‘em all day.” Barz pulls his saddle off his ant.

I hold my tongue, instead slipping a note into a thick envelope. I smile at the dossier. On my way out, I pop my head into the super’s office. Handing it to him, both of us nod as I flick an eye back toward Barz’s stall. He won’t be here in the morning.

Leaving the stables and the edge of the Ribs, I follow the curvature of the spine as the sun slips the horizon, sifting gold along the ridge. Canvas and boggoliz leather beckon in the distance. Trailing fingers of incense steep under awnings, wafting in the early evening breeze to trace spirals up my arms. Men and women duck in and out of a dance circle around a fire in the center of a triangular arrangement of tents. A pair sit off to the side, flute and drum sinking into hearts and hips.

Smiles flash as dark eyes under kohl meet mine. “Evening!” Dancers bow and dip skirts to the sand as I enter their camp. Soft rugs and low chairs spread under strung lanterns. One of the men breaks away from the gyration to light the wicks. Midsummer and the haze of sunset casts clouds of blush and arousal, painting the encampment in a cascade of scattered jewels and riches.

One of the women, her eyes bright in the firelight, smiles from a tent flap.“Looking for Sarai or Dorsa?”

“Evening! Either of them occupied?” I bow, my hand above my heart in mimic of the group’s greeting.

“I’m not.” Dorsa, his deep bass dripping down my shoulder, towers over me.

“You called?” Sarai peeks from behind his back, her bright skirts swirling around his legs.

“Dinner?” I offer, pulling a pack from my back.

“Ribs?” Dorsa eyes the bag, a grin crinkling the corners of almond eyes.

“I’ll make tea,” Sarai offers. Dorsa takes the pack as the two lead me to the farthest tent. I duck into the low structure, following Sarai. Dorsa strings the flap closed behind us.

“But first.” His fingers slip up mine. I still, savouring the heat scattering across my skin. Smaller hands find the hem at my knee, tracing along the line. I close the gap, tunnelling my fingers in Sarai’s thick hair to find the corner of her lips with mine, kneeling between her legs. Feathering kisses along the line of her jaw, I shift, our weight settling to the rugs. Dorsa pulls the shirt from my waistband to crawl fingers across my stomach, nibbling along my backbone.

“I’ve wanted to try something. Thought about it all day,” I whisper at the edge of her clavicle where her collar dips over her curves.

“Try something?” Her voice hitches as I trace her lines, savouring the tuck of her ribs, the flair of her hips.

“Let me taste you.” I run the tip of my tongue along a peaked nipple beneath her shift, the contrast in textures igniting between us.

A note catches. “You sure?” Her cheeks spot a soft pink, eyelashes sweeping low.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t.” I pause from my ministrations, watching her thoughts brush across her face, the difference between sunset and sunrise.

“No one’s ever offered.” Her laced hope, tight in the space between us, draws me in. I raise an eyebrow, resting my weight into the cradle of her hips. Dorsa leans heat across my back, straddling my legs to continue with his fixation. Electricity crawls beneath my skin in desperation. “I’d like to.” Her fingers find the column of my throat, the soft spot behind my jaw, pulling me to her for our tongues to dance as Dorsa creeps starburst up my thighs. 

“Where do you want me?” His voice glides across my shoulders.

“Tantalize for a bit. That work for you?” I turn to him, his lips brushing fire up my neck.

“I think that’s called torture.” He nips at the tip of my ear, sliding to kiss my cheek.

“Got a tie? I’ll come back to you.” I promise against his lip.

“I prefer touching, thanks.” He releases me from his spell to let me turn back to Sarai.

Pulling pillows together and clothes off, we settle into the comfort of exploration. Feathering kisses from knee to inner thigh, I keep an eye to her nerves. Under thick lashes, she’s watching Dorsa’s fingers memorize my shoulder blades, the dip of my lower back. “You two are beautiful together, you know that?” she admires as I slip fingers between her folds.

“That’s all, Dorsa,” I admit, tasting the tang of her, the slight bitterness of aphrodisiac Godtree nectar slick along my taste buds. Sliding across folds to her nub and back again, the warble in her breathing is music at my fingertips. A soft flick, a bit of pressure changes her tune. She startles beneath me when Dorsa finds a spot that sends me sighing. She melts into the view as he sinks into me, nectar easing the transition. I relax against his intrusion, his fingers finding the path I had traveled along Sarai’s leg to send her twitching.

Her dusky skin swaths in shades of kyanite and cinnabar as her honey tucks into my tongue. Sparks flick along my senses, and I’m diving into an abyss of hands and lips. Pressure, finding that sweet spot between her and me, Dorsa drives my desires as I push at Sarai’s. The world is slipping at the edges, and we are drifting in the amethyst and coral seeping through the stitching of the tent. Spirals and swirls, she’s singing beneath me, and his breathing is harsh in my ear. Time follows the rise of the moons, dipping with the whistle of the flute at the fire, and she’s drawing in tight, asking me to pause and listen. A shiver beneath my tongue, her gasps flutter as she tries to hide behind her hand. Dorsa leans over me, delving deeper, to steal the pleasure at her lips. Following his push, I move up to lavish attention on the undercurve of her breast, glimmers of gold flecking low, numbness creasing my hips as pressure builds in my toes and fingers. He returns to me, his hand finding my sensitivity. Teeth test my shoulder, demanding. The smoulder at the edges of my senses catches, the inferno taking me over. He holds tight, supporting as I wring us out in the floating world. 

Gasps 

Dragging ragged breaths 

Sweat drips

Slides

Pools

Drops from curls and curves

“Are you sure you won’t join us, An’cher? You’re better at this than most.” Dorsa nuzzles my ear, kissing my jaw.

“Who’d bring you ribs?” I take possession. His passion is sweet against my lips.  He pulls himself free to retrieve a pile of towels.

“Who needs ribs if you can do that?” Sarai takes the proffered cloth from Dorsa.

“I do, or else I won’t be able to muster the strength to do that again.” I tease.

“I’m taking that as a promise.” Dorsa snares me to curl between them.  

“Long as you’re here, I’ll come back,” I whisper in our cocoon. The stars pulse against the seams of the tent, and the heat of summer begs for our attention. Ignoring it, I lean into Dorsa’s chest, tucking Sarai’s locks beneath my chin. The sands slip by in the darkness, and I’m left twisting in eddies, wrung out and content.

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ichiko: Bride of the Beast My Fated Mate Bear My Child

Bride of the Beast feels very Omegaverse. But het. And like a bit of frustration with My Happy Marriage not doing more than just being slow burn. And how badly do I hate white-out…

Anyways. This isn’t the slow burn Love Tractor was, or even the mild character development of romantic interest that is Smyrna and Capri. This one is…normal? Het. It’s het. Let’s be real. The MC is a waffling between strong-but-shy and strong-and-lude type with a tiny LI coming from an abusive household and being forced to marry into a house to bear a beastman’s kids. The usual with this type of storyline of being married into a new house is finding out the guy in the relationship is very sweet and will ruthlessly demolish the woman’s whole family for laying hands on her. It’s very “I have been delivered to My Prince who will rescue me because I have no upward mobility or capacity to take control of my life through financial freedom, connections, or job prospects.” These types of stories tend to be Beauty and the Beast storyline where the woman develops feeling over time for the man taking care of her because he’s struggling and she’s there to help. She’s obligated and incapable of free agency, but little by little the guy rescues her from her family and from her lack of self confidence and builds her up to live on a pedestal all while she maintains this air of quiet humbleness.

The world build takes place in a similar time frame to My Happy Marriage too. That period represented in manga and anime is always interesting to me. Like in Demon Slayer and Appare Ranman. The old ways are dying out, but the new ways haven’t really settled into comfortable, everything looks just a little disjointed and the clothing hasn’t blended quite yet.

This one doesn’t have the romance build of a slow burn. It’s smut, and it gets to the point pretty quickly, and with frequency through the story. The romance really is secondary to the point of this piece, and for the most part, if you’re looking for smut, having a bog of character development and world build really isn’t what you’re after in the first place.

It’s a pretty quick read if you aren’t getting distracted. I think there could have been a bit more variety in positioning, but that’s just nit picking.

Would I recommend it?

I’m kind of neutral on this one. Not something I plan on revisiting or tossing on my shelf, but it was an okay couple of hours. Not sure I’m going to keep up with future releases.

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Raquel Vasquez Gilliland: Witch of Wild Things

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Published in 2023, Witch of Wild Things by Raquel Vasquez Gilliland is a lightweight urban fantasy crossed with modern drama/romance. It’s about family, healing, and acceptance.

There are instances of magic, but primarily it revolves around the main character learning to let people in past defenses she built for very good reasons. Raquel Vasquez Gilliland approaches mental health and family flaws with a realistic touch that feels lived. The misunderstandings and animosity aren’t dispraportionate to modern romance/drama.

As someone roughly the shade of mayo and growing up the suburban farm life – entering into a LatinX household and those experiences was a lovely experience. It was nice to see that representation and to learn a level of empathy or sympathy that I am developing with regard to diverse cultures from my own. I can be accepting and an ally, but I also need to do the work to better understand other people’s lived experiences to do better.

I couldn’t fully relate to the drama in the story. The logic wasn’t quite working with my flavor of neurodivergence. So, some of the animosity and misunderstandings between the family, friends, and love interests were a little outside my wheelhouse. However, I think the conversations and circumstances were well written and thought out.

The editing was clean. It read like mass market rather than literature, and that is perfectly fine for the style of book and length.

I rented it through my local library, and I’m alright with that. I think this would be a decent book on a shelf for folk who enjoy modern drama/romance on the regular.

Affiliate links in the post.

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Kiss

An excerpt from the anthology: Beneath the Twin Suns

Embers and ash. Wild night creatures murmured at the door. Venerable Brother Hacnor took the last of his ruby mantle from the sky, dusting the horizon in amethyst and onyx swaths.  Esteemed Brother Armad preceded him beyond the boundary of the known to call the stars to rise. Teslin illuminated the ceremonial path through the phosphorescent glen. Bocaslin, visible through the hem of the thin curtain, mirrored his smooth face on the still lake beyond the tree line. Zostalin reached zenith to spill paleness through the smoke hole.

Cerulean paint on silver skin had dried tight, flecking and chipping away, leaving behind swirling stains and smudges. Prominent pointed ears throbbed under heavy new piercings of gold. Weeks of fasting. Months of meditation. Years of preparation. The little brothers were in alignment for the ceremony. He trembled, watching the pot come to a boil, three moons casting singular spots on the emerald brew before acolytes covered the smoke hole.

Coals glowed in the hearth, casting disturbed shadows across daub walls. He drifted to the beat of drums, the whistle of pipes. Dusk crowded in on the group as bowls were passed around, filled with the elixir. A heady aroma clouded the low thatched roof, weighing down their lungs, tingling in their appendages.

He brought the rim to his lips, drinking deep the bitterness. Vibration rattled through his limbs as he drifted to the warmth floating in his veins. Fingers took his bowl before it fell from his grasp. The chafe of rough clay tingled and dashed across his palms, bringing his focus to his fingers, cinder’s glow bending, warping, slinking across the webbing, cascading light and dark around the borders.

Flames jumped, baited, dipped and swayed. Dancing, thrumming, coaxing him to the sparks. Her melody snapped, demanded, enticed, intrigued. Blue seeped into white, into red, into orange. Tugged at his heart and skipped up his back. He reached for her. She dashed away, flickering, taunting. He stilled, drawing in her proffered heat, her curve skimming along his edges.

The bronze cape of dawn glimmered through her mosaic leaves in the mist. Brilliant flowers before they fruit. The call of mates in the glades and woods. He fell into her embrace. Cradled in her boughs, buried in her roots. She slithered across his skin, spiraled through his bones. Tendrils crept to hug his ribs. Earth after the rain coated his lungs in her perfume.

She wrapped around him, twisted, twirled, tugged at his locks and pulled in demand. Relenting, skittering, skirting, he trusted her, letting her take him over the cliff. Blanketed in a thunderhead, wrapped in a rainbow. Buoying him on gossamer wings. Gliding, soaring, he swiveled to find her elusive, hiding behind the mountains, climbing up the valleys. She whispered in the canopy, her cry of exultation whipping up waves of foam in the sea.

Her laugh burbled along the shores. Splashed against the sands. Her sigh, the clouds that brought forth gentle rain. Cool and smooth. Dripping elliptic rings in ponds. Worn stones in the river. A flip. A shine. Fin slicing through the current. She eased through his nerves. Circled, coddled, cooed. He dove after her, ever reaching, ever falling away from her. She came close, teasing, tormenting. Lips trailed across his shoulders. He spun to find her gone in the depths.

Daylight scorched the entrance curtain. Drums reverberated in his skull. He blinked, waiting for the evening to coalesce. Humidity coated him in a thin sheen of sweat. His hammock, scratchy beneath his skin, encouraged him to be up and out. He shifted, pulling himself from the swaying material. Combing back his fall of hair, his shoulders ached. Trailing fingers along it, he found a series of tender spots.

Emerging from his hut, he met his jubilant village in the midst of preparing a grand feast. He swallowed, looking to his elders. Smiling, pleased, they nodded their approval. Blazed across his shoulders in shimmering shades of the world, his brush with the goddess cast glimmering speckles across the walls and soaring trees. He survived her whims to be the next holy man.

To perpetually chase after her. To be caught by her capricious affectivity. To give her everything. To wait for her indulgence. To join with the ranks of the Great and Little Brothers to forever watch over her. To dance through the cadence of her seasons. To fall more in love with her every day, every sunset, every moonrise.

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Angrymonster and hmmyongyong: Love Tractor

Found on Tappytoon, the webseries manhwa Love Tractor is labeled as BL. But man is a wonderful slow burn romance.

I binge read this in about eight hours off and on and stayed up way to late hoping to get to the point where these two block heads would actually confess. I can find slow burn excruciating regularly. It has a lot to do with miscommunication or just lack of good communication. But this one. This one does it right. The character interaction doesn’t feel forced for the triviality of getting these two to hook up. The story takes time to unfold. There are sweet moments. There is regular human trauma. There is a well rounded atmosphere of world building that comes with considering a characters back story in full.

Do I generally sing these types of praises for BL? Well. Most of the time I didn’t start reading these types of stories for the long drawn out character development. Usually I’m here for the… eye candy? shall we say. In this, I felt like there was actual time to invest in the story where the whole function of the plot was to develop love, rather than just to get it on with the other character.

I liked that both the MC and LI were in their 20s and still working on finding themselves. The fact that the author had the MC provide boundaries and insight on how he wasn’t ready to date because he needed to come out of a poor relationship and that impact on his mental health was appreciated. Pointing out that he had been working with a therapist and going through depression and what that feels like I can only hope will help others identify the sensation so as to have better communication with family and therapists.

Recommend it?

Yes. Very much. I like that more BL stories are coming out where the love is sweet and allowed to develop. Given caught me off guard way back when my exposure to most BL had been Juunjo Romantica and Antique Bakery. Love Tractor like Given allows the characters time to interact and naturally come to an understanding of their feelings for each other.

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Jamie Rhodes: A Castle in England

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Brought out in 2017, A Castle in England by Jamie Rhodes is a historical graphic novel telling the story of Scotenie Castle.

Sometimes I enjoy one off graphic novels because it gives me a quick hit of “Finishing Dopamine” as I call it. One of those – I finished a thing! Woo. So, this is one of those Finishing Dopamine books for me where I read it in about twenty minutes – if that. It is pretty short.

I can’t honestly suggest it. Realistically, the comic panels are set out okay, but the stories in it – there are a few short stories all compiled together – the short stories needed more room to be fleshed out. And…not meaning to be cruel, but the art styles were not always on point. The dialogue also fails in certain stories to help convey what is occurring.

It did help at the end of each short story that there were sections that described the history surrounding the story. A couple of the stories honestly needed that to make the image work and chopped dialogue make sense.

I rented this from my local library and have no interest in buying a copy for my shelf. I’m not quite sure I would suggest anyone go out of their way to read it unless they’re interested in castle history as a whole and want to read a graphic novel for kicks and giggles.

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Shorts: Galaxy Skin

You’re staring off into space again.

“I’m bored. That’s all.” The city was grey. The rain was grey. The dust mixing with the water was sludgy on the window sill. A pigeon hunkered down in its nest regarded me with displeasure.

Bored? The great and mighty Yezer? Bored! Surely not.

“It happens. It’s wet, and it’s not like it was before.” I leaned against the cold glass, my breath fogging the surface, whiting out the evening in a blur.

Call up Gregor, or Naska. They’ll be more than happy to kill something with you.

“They’ve been dead for three hundred years. You know that.”

The voice stilled, leaving me to my small apartment and the reality of my stomach growling. I slid off the window seat and rummaged through the make-do kitchen. A handful of nuts, a glass of tepid water, a couple marshmallows. Not filling, but I wasn’t in the mood to deal with a meal, or get down to the road to see what food carts were open in the downpour.

Turning to the view, I found a fingerprint of a little shooting star glaring across my window where I had fogged it. “What are you doing?”

You’ve been down for a while.

“And drawing on my window is supposed to make me happy? That’s creepy.”

Not like I’m a poltergeist. I’m at least not opening all your cabinet doors. Not like there’s enough in here to make an impact. You live forever, and you end up in this – let’s be nice and call it a shoebox. How have you fallen to this, Yezer?

I snorted. How had I fallen to this? How had the world moved on? was a better question. I used to be the wizard in an adventuring group. We took out kobolds, dragons, ghouls. We ended battles and dethroned a king, maybe two if that one guy counted for anything. But gold eventually gets spent, and what use is there for a wizard when technology could handle it all and more? Fireball? Against a tank round? Please.

“Maybe I’m just taking some time.”

Warmth pressed against my back and wrapped around my shoulders. There’s taking time, and there’s being directionless, my friend.

“Friend? When were we ever friends?”

I think it’s grown. I’d like to think a friendship has been growing.

“Why? Because I’m alone, and you think that being around all the time is friendship?”

Then why don’t you show me what friendship is?

“That’s a dangerous idea if I’ve ever heard of one. Befriend the Darkness?”

You have all the time in the world, and so do I. It could be interesting.

“You’re just as bored as I am.”

Maybe. Maybe I just want for you to not be a shell of your former self. I miss your glory days.

“You mean your glory days. The ones when you would decimate villages, upend towns, plunder cities under the cloak of night.”

I didn’t stutter.

It was my turn to still.

You had a job to do, and so did I. You and I, we were two sides of a coin. Now? Neither of us do. Maybe that’s what karma is, or fate, or irony. Probably that last one.

“I was protecting people.”

I was ending plagues.

“You were creating collateral damage.”

I was doing the best with what I had, like what you’re doing now.

“You killed people.”

So did you.

“They were bad.”

And sickness isn’t moral in its decisions. It affects all.

“I had to stop you.”

Why? Because the Darkness would kill your parents? Your niece? Your next-door neighbour? Time would have done that regardless of what say I had in events. It did. And now you’re here in a shoebox, withering away at a desk pushing papers around for someone else.

“You never learned.”

You’re afraid.

“Of what?”

Of that jump in your heart every time I talk to you. That flush across those freckles of yours every time I lean on you. You’re really bored if we’ve gotten to this point.

“It does not!” I backed up into my living space, planting my back firmly against the couch cushions.

Oh, it’s getting worse just mentioning it. Pff. You know, the warmth settled across my knees, and chin, pushing my head back until I was staring at little more than a whisp of dust motes between me and the ceiling, teasing should have been my first method. You’ve been stuck in your shell. Let’s call friendship bunk.

“What are you doing?” Heat trailed across my bottom lip.

Getting you to see me for once.

“What is there to see? You’re the Darkness. You’re a different plain of existence. You’re-“

Not physical?

I swallowed. That wasn’t quite right. Not with the shades shifting in front of me. Not with the warmth. I reached up to where little dust stars shifted back and forth. My hand passed right through. “What are you?”

Three hundred and seventy years, and you finally ask me? What am I? No more good nor evil than you, or the next person.

“The gods wouldn’t have given me immortality for capturing you and locking you away if you weren’t evil.”

The gods wouldn’t have left entire communities to die of disease if they weren’t evil. They gave you immortality because you locked me to your heart, and as long as it beats, I can’t just go out and do what I want, which is convenient to them.

“You can’t seriously think the gods are evil. That’s insanity.”

They aren’t any better than you or me then. They kill. You kill. I kill. They save. You save. I save. Who is wrong? Who in this equation wasn’t right in their actions when they made them?

“Are you going to get off me?” I traced the path the stars took until it dawned on me I was looking at several pairs of eyes.

Sigh. Yeah. The heated weight shifted off me.

“You’ve been making passes at me for four decades now rather than just hissing at me. Does teasing me make you happy?” I pushed hair out of my eyes.

Not when it makes you angry at me.

“Is Darkness your name?”

A pause answered me. I drew myself up and rummaged in my kitchen drawer for the toothbrush and toothpaste. The grey of evening was quickly slipping into the orange and pink neon glow of night. Halfway through my routine of getting ready for bed, heat drew along my hand.

Twiq

“Twiq? That’s your name?” I dragged on my pyjama pants.

Been a long time since anyone called me that. Longer even before you caught me. I thought I had forgotten it.

I flopped on the couch and tugged a ratty blanket off the back of it. Snapping my fingers, the one under-cabinet light turned off. “Still haven’t told me what you are, Twiq.”

Stuck. That’s what I am.

I raised a hand and waited until warmth intertwined with my fingers and heat settled across me. “If you say you’re stuck to me, I’m going to go stand out in the rain, and you’ll be just as cold as me.”

I was a dying doctor who made a bargain with a god of death. Now? I don’t know what I am.

“How are you stuck?”

No one can see me. You can’t even touch me. No one talks to me because you’re the only one who hears me, and for the most part my presence just irritates you.

“I can see you.” I brushed at the stars floating above me, though I couldn’t find anything tangible at the edge of my fingers. The stars flared. “Always thought I had dust motes following me around. But it’s night, and there’s no side light.”

A drop of water plopped onto my cheek. A sniffling hiccup broke the silence. Heat wrapped around me until I was in a warm cocoon. “You’ve been really lonely. I’m sorry, Twiq.”

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Brothers Without a Tomorrow: Smyrna and Capri

Smyrna and Capri, brought out between 2022 and 2024 by Brothers Without a Tomorrow and hosted by Lezhin Comics is an explicit fantasy Yaoi delving into the Alpha/Omega genre and military genre categories. It gives a lot of star-crossed lovers or Romeo and Juliet feels because the two main characters are sworn enemies.

The MC and LI are both Alphas in this particular manga, but you know the whole “here, take this magical thing that will make you have a womb for a few months” trope that gets thrown around in Alpha/Omega genre in the same way Love Pistols by Tarako Kotobuki works. Yeah, this one pulls one of those maneuvers. So it’s Alpha/Alpha. The knight for the emperor reaches a time in his clan where he has to bear a child – though they have the ~dignity~ of having these Alphas ‘lay eggs’…because why not. I can’t really hate on it. When you’re dealing in a fantasy premise, there’s no need to actually make the human biology work like human biology. So, shrug.

Alright, MC needs to lay an egg. Que LI who is the leader of the rebels and last Dragon Emperor catching Omega pheramones from the MC and deciding to go persue a romp in the sheets. And more sheets…and more. Anyways, the development of an existing plot outside of naked butts takes a while to develop. I mean, it’s yaoi, of course anything of story movement is going to be a subplot to why everyone has decided to read it. Yes, of course you read Sports Illustrated Bikini Edition for the stories. Of course.

Anyways. I found the concern of the LI and treatment of the MC refreshing. I liked the care put into warm ups and that portrayal. Realistically, there are readers whose only point of understanding about Romance could be initiated from something like this and when Sex Education comes from fantasy material, it is nice when authors take some responsibility towards portraying care for partners. Bonus star points from me here.

Art wise, it is decent. In the same way a good amount of manhua now days has a fairly standardized coloration, fancy brush packs for shiny and lacy objects, and body proportions being busty or dorito chip shaped. There’s not much to protest with this one. At 70ish chapters, it makes for a fast read, if you’re actually reading it. The frequency of the erotica actually did start to drag around the 40-55 chapter mark and I was glad there was more devotion to the subplot for a while just to break up the same four positions for a hot minute. Otherwise, the white outs weren’t bad. It’s the same standard as most other manhua in this type of adult genre, so can’t hate on it.

Would I suggest it? If you’re into this type of genre, yeah. It’s one of the better Omegaverse stories I’ve seen written up with better treatment of the MC/LI by their respective partners. That and the little spirit protectors are cute.

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