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moonbaby26 · 3 years

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Title: The Man from the Sky

Pairing: Loki x Goddess!Reader

Summary: You were a Greek sea goddess, just enjoying a typical day of nothing when a strange new god dropped into your land.

Warnings: None yet. There is smut in future chapters already written. Will post more soon.

Notes: I’m aware that what we’d think of as ancient Greece well predates who we’d call the vikings and their like cruising around the seas. This doesn’t take place at the height of the Greek pantheon worship, but old enough in human history that some men still believed in both sets of deities.

Chapters: Next Chapter Here

My Masterlist

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You dipped your feet a little deeper into the warm water as it lapped the edges of the rock you sat upon. The sea was calm today, and the wind gentle as the nymphs chatted around you about the usual things. A bit of gossip one had heard from a local river nymph, a new shipwreck one had found, status of a fish migration from another.

You wouldn’t exactly call it boring though, you specifically chose these more remote areas when you came ashore for this very reason. It was so much more unlikely for you to run afoul of mortals here, or even others of your own kind that you may not feel like putting on airs with at this very moment.

It was so quiet in fact, that you were considering getting up to go lay in the sand on the beach in a few minutes and enjoy a nice nap in the sunlight.

That was before the boom which echoed through the air all around you. Somewhat like thunder, but not quite as all the nymphs fell silent.

When nothing came after, you felt all their eyes then turning to you. Their voices piped back up soon enough, though the tones in them changed to all nerves now.

“Do you wish to leave, milady?”

“Could it be Zeus?”

“But it didn’t sound like him.”

“Is there a volcano nearby?”

“What else could it be?”

“I don’t know what it was, I’ve never heard that sound.” You finally said, though now looking inward to the land. You were at least sure that the sound was not of the sea. But you refused to give in to the nymphs’ skittishness too quickly. And without real reason to leave, eventually you all did start to relax again.

Yet then came the cries. “Goddess, mistress please!” That cry absolutely was from the land as you looked in time to see the river nymph you’d met earlier in the day now running from the tree line and down onto the sands. She stumbled slightly, just before reaching you where the sea met the rocks.

She was panting, clearly having run some distance as she continued. “I’m so glad to still find you here,” She bowed slightly, only because she didn’t know you well enough to realize you didn’t require this.

“What is it?” You asked simply, honestly more curious now than anything else. What could she have seen that would strike her so alarming? Any nymph worth their ilk would know every creature, every natural occurrence, all that existed within their lands.

“There is a man in the forest, he came from the sky!” Yet she continued quickly, sure you would only think of Olympus. “But I do not recognize him as one of your own family. And his clothing, he is not of our territory. This I am sure, my goddess. I watched him only long enough to see that he was very angry. I am afraid of his intentions here.”

A man? But not truly a man. Mortals did not come from the sky.

“An angry god?” You said, now standing as you then stepped down from the rocks. The forest belonged to Artemis truthfully. But being this close to the sea, you thought that the older goddess would forgive you this if it came down to it. She would rather the nymphs be protected you were sure from any childish acts of a god’s wrath that may now come into play here.

You had brought no armor, the possibility of battle so far from your mind when you’d come ashore today. But that didn’t mean you travelled completely defenseless. “Bring me my spear please.” You requested of the sea nymphs.

Though they were still anxious, they responded dutifully, one sinking beneath the waves before reappearing with the glinting weapon in hand. It shone a brilliant silver, sea foam still running off its blue spear tip as she handed it to you out of the water.

“Show me the way, and I will investigate this stranger.” You spoke plainly, hopping down onto the sands as you strode barefoot towards the forest, spear in hand. “We will keep our distance as best we can, we don’t seek conflict, understood?”

“Yes, milady.” You heard, the sea nymphs staying behind you as the river nymph moved in front to lead you upward, the sand transitioning to rocky soil and the sparse vegetation and trees beginning to increase as you climbed the hillside.

For the sea nymphs, you could hear them losing their footing here and there in the loose soil, themselves of course far more adapted to swimming the ocean’s depths at your side rather than hiking up into the forests.

You did hope you were not putting any of them in danger. But if you felt they truly were in harm’s way, you would have no qualms in telling them to retreat back to the water at once.

“Up ahead,” The river nymph whispered to you, pointing towards a clearing you could now see leveling off in the distance. But the opening looked so strange with the density of the other trees now around you.

“Was that always there?” You asked her, knowing something unnatural when you saw it, even when this far from the water.

“No,” She confirmed. “When the sky opened up, it carved out the land as well. He appeared when that force receded.”

“Understood.” You replied, though in truth not really understanding at all as you motioned for all the others to proceed no further. You’d never seen something like this. “I will go alone. If he should attack me, please return to the sea to seek help.”

They fidgeted, looking unhappy but not arguing your choice. “Please be careful, goddess.”

You nodded, but kept on slowly. You tried to remember what you’d been taught as a little girl about stalking and hunting on land. So many moons ago, running through the forests with Artemis and at times Pan, being mentored before returning to the sea to your father, mother, and so many siblings.

But the closer you came, the more you realized that the stranger would likely not notice any sound of light footsteps approaching or ground shifting. As you neared, you saw his form pacing back and forth in the clearing, seemingly cursing to himself in a language that was not your own.

Yet it still sounded familiar. Abruptly you knew where you had heard a dialect like this before. It sounded so much like those voyagers from the northern seas. The ones with their longboats and course beards, sometimes with hair as red as fire as they fished and sang and fought.

And he did look as pale as them as well. But with hair like black of night, and a frame far more slender than the burly mortals you’d seen rowing those northern boats along. And just as the river nymph had warned, his clothing confused you as well. Rich green robe, but with black and gold as well. It was wholly foreign and exotic to you in its styling, as was he.

When she’d said a strange man had arrived, honestly you had also expected someone older in appearance. He looked quite youthful to be honest, even as his brow remained furrowed and his fists clenched at his sides.

And just when you thought his feet may actually cut a path in the earth from his agitated pacing, he finally slowed, then stopped all together.

This is when you froze as well, knowing you now had a decision to make. Should you keep to your hiding, just to hope he should eventually leave in whatever fashion he came? Or should you reveal yourself to question his identity and purpose here?

“Done spying yet, or do you intend to actually do something with that spear?” A cutting voice spoke abruptly to your side, so suddenly that you almost lost your footing, shocked as the same man emerged from behind other trees only feet from you.

But you still saw him in the clearing as well, at least you did momentarily before the image of him there dissolved, leaving only the form now nearest you.

“You speak my language?” Was all you questioned instead of answer him though, as he had said those last words only in your tongue. You also kept focusing on backing away as you chose to keep a safer distance. He was some sort of illusionist at least then, which could escalate the danger here very quickly if he made you lose your bearings.

And he was starting to circle you a bit you realized as he began to walk again. But you willed yourself to keep your spear at a neutral position, rather than aim at him, still not intending to provoke attack if it could be prevented. You had no idea what other strengths he might have, and your primary goal was still to keep the nymphs from getting caught in any crossfire.

“Not all of us are so uneducated,” He snapped back at you, still in your language, though you could detect that foreign accent underneath.

You were not wholly unused to rudeness though, yet it had been a very long time since you could recall being spoken to directly in such a manner. It was more the bickering between others in the palace that you were sometimes forced to be party to. Which was only another reason you often favored the relative isolation of the mortal world.

“You need not be so offended, stranger. I only came to see who had entered our land, and to protect my friends if need be.” You answered as reserved in tone as you could.

“Then you have done your duty, girl, and can now be gone. I came here to be alone. If I was actually intending to plunder this wasteland of nothingness, your little cohort never would have made it back to you to begin with.”

You stared, a little coldness entering your eyes then. So that was what had given you away. He’d already been aware of the river nymph to begin with, and had been waiting for someone to return the entire time while leaving that illusion of himself still in the clearing as distraction.

And he’d actually referred to you as ‘girl’. Did he really think you just one of the nymphs then? It was hard to say if he was intentionally trying to goad you, or if he really was so unfamiliar to not realize you for what you actually were.

You straightened a bit, replying, “Insults to our homeland aside, I will leave you to this quiet then, if you should at least tell me your name. You are clearly not of Olympus, and we still have right to know who it is who traverses into this particular land of mortals which we hold sovereignty over.”

He scoffed, clearly wishing to not speak to you even a moment longer. But in the way his chest puffed slightly, you thought it was only pride then that made him physically incapable of denying his identity.

He actually moved closer to you as well, that agitation still rising further in his voice. “Little fool, you stand before Loki! Son of Odin the Allfather. I am god of mischief, prince of Asgard. Your witless mortals should count their blessings that an Asgardian should ever see fit to even set foot here!”

You didn’t know if you’d been quick enough to mask the true surprise from your face. You had already assumed him a god. But never...never had you actually laid eyes on an Asgardian. They never came to this part of the world as far as you knew. And was he telling the truth? Was he really a son of Odin?

This stranger’s arrogance aside, if he were a child of Odin, you knew your own father would be furious with you if you were intentionally insulting now. Asgard and Olympus had never had the closest ties, but you were not enemies either. Asgard was honored by the mortals of the north, and Olympus still honored by those of the south, though perhaps not quite as much as the true olden days.

It took real will, but you bowed graciously to him in return. “It is an honor to meet you then, Loki, son of Odin.” As you straightened up, in his eyes you could see he was trying to judge you as sincere or not. But you just continued smoothly. “As promised, I shall leave you to your thoughts then. But I would be unmannered to not offer my assistance should you need a hostess in your time here as a guest in our land. My name is (Y/N), daughter of-”

You hesitated only the briefest moment, “of the sea,” is what you decided on though. Unlike Loki, you preferred a little anonymity with strangers. You didn’t wish to be targeted just for your lineage.

And with that, you turned, beginning to walk back towards the beach, even as you finished talking. “If you should need me, you need only find the sea’s edge and call for me. One of our creatures will hear you soon enough and seek me out.”

But some odd part of you regretted not being able to see his expression as you left. You wondered if you only would have seen more disdain and condescension at your offer.

Regardless, he said nothing else and soon enough you were back on the sand, the nymphs chittering in a mix of horror and awe around you.

“Who does he think he is, speaking to you that way!?”

“Do you really think he’s of Asgard? Shouldn’t we alert your father?”

“Why would he even come here? He seemed so bitter. Do you think they cast him out?”

“I’d cast him out, with a dirty attitude like that!”

You looked to the horizon, just taking a breath. “I don’t think we need to rush and tell my father just yet. But I do know where I want to go now.” You looked to the river nymph briefly though, “Please have those in the forest keep a distant eye on him. Should he leave or do anything else of note, please let us know.”

You glanced back to the sea nymphs then. “The rest of you return to the oceans. I’m going to Olympus, to the libraries there. I want to find out more about Asgard, to see if he is who he says he is. I’ll return to the water soon.”

They all nodded, “Yes, milady. Please let us know what you find!”

“I will,” you agreed, just watching them dissolve back into the waves.

Were you excited perhaps? Or just very curious? Nothing interesting in this way had happened in ages. You were determined to learn all you could on this new arrival.

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The Olympians had been a little surprised to see you gracing the halls there. So many of your cousins had dropped in time and again to say hello, curious themselves of why you were out of the water this long and seemingly such a bookworm all of the sudden.

And you did read for days. All you could find on Asgard, on Odin, the Norse mortals, and their language. You found record that Odin had born two sons, honestly an oddly low number you thought in comparison to the many children of your own kings.

But there in these tomes, were those two names, Thor and Loki. Thor, god of thunder, amusing of course in comparison to Zeus, king of all, including lightning. But also Loki, god of mischief, just as he’d said.

You were surprised, but enthralled as you actually found a drawing of Loki within the book. Though not completely accurate you thought, you still recognized that type of clothing. The green and gold, and the pale skin and black hair with his icy blue eyes. You tilted your head a little, looking at the gold helmet he wore in the artist’s depiction, with long horns curving from it like those of a great beast.

Was he really a beast? Or just a too arrogant manchild? And why did you increasingly wish to find out?

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(Continued in next chapter here)

#loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki #loki fluff #loki fandom #marvel fic #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x oc #loki x original female character #loki layfeyson imagine #loki layfeyson x reader

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anxiousstark · 4 years

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The Aura Painter | DOB

Painter! Dylan x Princess!Reader

Word Count: 12K (12.057)

Warnings: Mentions of sexism, masturbation (mutual or solo), unprotected sex (this is a fic, be safe), cum play, breeding kink, filthy tbh, some cliché romance scenes. This is my second time writing ‘smut’. But this is the first time writing something so long and so filthy, bear with me.

A/N: This is an idea that I’ve had in mind for so long. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed imagining it. And of course, writing it. If you do, please give it some love and share it. The biggest solo piece I’ve ever written!

BIG MASTERLIST | KO-FI

Words you must know for the fic:

Onism (n.) the awarness of how little of the world you will experience.

Heriaeth (n.) a homesickness for a home to which you canot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning. the grief of lost places of your past.

Elysian (adj.) beautiful or creative; divinely inspired; peaceful and perfect.

The droplets of rain fell against the glass, leaving a trail which I followed with my gaze. The glistening tear of water disappeared before I could place my finger against the window and imitate that I could command its movement.

The sky seemed to cry, turning a darker shade. Perhaps the sky had lost a lover or perhaps, the one they loved was far from its reach. I could not tell as I never experienced one of those stories.

The books I had to read as a child were those who would teach me how to act and think. But those I read on the confines of my room when everyone was sleeping were different. Those told the story of a beautiful lady who wished to be rescued by a gentleman. I would try not to squeal under my blanket, as that was something, a lady of a high position should not do.

I glanced at the sky again as it screamed, lightly swaying the trees outside while his droplets of tears wetted everything under itself.

"M'lady," I corrected my form, trying to look as straight as possible. Turning around, I glimpsed directly into a pair of green eyes that seemed to lose their brightness as the seasons passed. Those eyes used to be the brightest ones in this palace, but now they were almost colourless, decorated by a couple of wrinkles. "Your mother is asking for your presence at her table."

That was unusual. My mother was a sophisticated distant woman who liked to spend time on her own. Hence, she tried to escape from her responsibilities as a Queen while having breakfast by herself. She would relax outside in the gardens. A small white table filled with her preferred meals, and even if she sought to convince herself, and lie to me about her drink being just a mere juice, everyone knew it wasn't.

"Tell me, Harold," While walking through the corridors of the palace, I noticed once again the monotony. The clicking of my heels appeared to be the only sound, except the melody of the rain falling against hard surfaces. "Did the Queen seem mad?"

Harold tried not to chuckle, knowing that if my parents or any of my siblings were near, he would end up getting struck by executing such a natural gesture. "I must say that the Queen did not ask for the cello man to accompany her this morning with some music."

I gasped, glancing at him to discern if he was teasing me. Harold had been in our family for so many years. I dare to say that he was in this palace before anyone else.

"She must be quite mad, then." I bit my lower lip, trying to think what of the things I have done could have gotten her mad, and how she had discovered them. "Perhaps she found the romance novels hidden in my room?" I muttered to myself.

"M'lady," Harold opened the door to the great hall. "She preferred to eat her breakfast in here as it is raining cats and dogs outside." He whispered, letting me walk in first. I silently nodded my head, wandering closer to my mother, who was sitting on the farthest place even though she was on her own. "My Queen. The young Lady has arrived. If my services are required, I will be waiting outside to escort the young Lady back to her room."

I shivered as soon as Harold left the room, wishing he could have stayed with me. But of course, he did not deserve the wrath of my mother. While walking closer to her, my clicking heels seemed to resemble the countdown of a bomb that would explode shortly.

"Take a seat, my darling," She demanded as soon as I was close to her. I swallowed, swiftly grabbing the skirts of my dress. I sat down on the white chair in front of her. She coughed. "Someone quite similar to the young Lady of the palace has been seen on the street market." A newspaper was placed on top of the table, facing me.

I swallowed one more time. "Must be someone who resembles me." I attempted to sound confident. "I am afraid that happened on Friday, and I take piano, courtesy and manner classes that day."

"Tell me, darling," She faked a smile. Her dark brown eyes, studying my position and expressions. "May I ask how you knew this happened on Friday as the article does not say something like that?"

"I-." Her stare became even more intimidating. "Guessed?" I squinted my eyes, perceiving that she would raise her voice to inhuman levels.

"Nor did you only skip your classes, you also lied and went outside on your own." Her tone was sharp. "Hideous things could have happened to you. Do you know what this could mean to your brother's throne?" Of course, this was about my dear brother. "The sister of the future King of Onism does not follow the rules of the palace. Then, what should they expect from their new King?"

"I did not do anything inappropriate, mother." I sighed, shifting my gaze to look at her directly. "I did not get in trouble, and as you can perceive, I am all right."

She rolled her eyes, which surprised me as she always claimed for that gesture not being refined. "And books," She pointed to one of the chairs, where I noticed all my favourite romance novels resting upon it. She had found them.

"May at least have some privacy in the confines of my bedroom?" I was mad, but raising my voice to her would get me in even more trouble. "Those," I referred to the pile of books that were my most precious property. "Those are mine."

"Not anymore," She got up, grabbing one of them and examining the title. "Romance novels? When will you understand that nothing like this happens in real life?"

I felt a little strength going through my body. "That book, in particular, describes the love story of the author! It is a romance that happened to her in real life. It is not fiction."

"But that woman was not a princess, was she?" I shook my head as she waited for my answer. "However, you are one. Even if you do not have anything to do with the future throne of Onism, your brother does, and you must behave like a princess." She walked closer to the fireplace. My eyes widened, and I gasped loudly. "You are a woman and a princess. The only thing you must worry about is making your future husband happy while following his rules, even if you do not love him." She opened the book, her skinny finger ripping some of the pages, and in the process, shattering my heart. "You will get married to someone you do not love, just to unite two countries." She let the book slip from her fingers. Falling to the fire, and burning as much as my eyes were burning due to the tears. "Stop filling your head with stories that will never happen to you. You are dismissed."

I got up from the chair, slightly glancing at the pile of books. I knew they would end up in the fireplace, slowly burning. I bowed my head. "I apologize, mother." She made a gesture with her hand, instructing me to leave the great hall.

My head was down as I walked to the door, wishing to exit the room and rant to Harold. "Wait," The voice of my mother interrupted my walk. "Get prepared as in two hours a man will come to paint a portrait of you. We will send the portraits to different future Kings of other countries that have shown interest in courting you."

"Yes, mother." I could not argue.

As I came out of the room, I noticed Harold's gaze fixed on me. I shook my head, letting him accompany me to my chambers. While walking through the long corridors, I glanced outside the windows. I reminded myself that I would never dance under the rain with someone while we laugh and kiss. I will never be caressed with love. I will only be touched with the purpose of bringing an heir to someone. An heir that would have to live the same dull life as me.

Going inside my bedroom, Harold bowed his head while he walked away. However, three ladies that worked in the palace entered my room, ready to assist me. I could not even take a bath on my own, nor could I dress by myself as the three of them did it for me.

"The painter will be here soon, ma'am," Rosetta informed, deciding to stay in the room as a lady should not be alone in a room with a man who is not her beloved husband. "He is a painter from town, said to have a gift."

"Is he quite known?" I asked to continue the conversation as I did not want to be rude. Nonetheless, the image of my books burning was the only thing in my mind.

"He is known in town for doing amazing portraits in exchange for food and a place to live." My curiosity peaked at the comment. "Royals are quite interested in getting their portraits done by him. Though, he had denied their offers." I looked at her with confusion. "He does not want to be related to any royalty member." I nodded my head, understanding why he did not want that.

There were two knocks on the door, indicating that the painter was here. I was quite surprised as my mother wanted the portrait to be painted in my private chambers. "Please, come inside."

When the door opened, a tall man came inside. He was probably around 5' 10". Wide shoulders that were covered by dark brown clothes. It seemed to be his best attire. Even though you could see the cheap fabric, and how he had tried to cover some holes and get rid of some stains. He had tried to gel his hair back. At first, I thought his hair was black until a streak of light fell on him, and I discerned it was a little lighter than that.

His light brown eyes fell on me, and studying them in-depth, I noticed that they resembled to be hazel. He bowed his head. "Uhm, it is a pleasure to meet you, Princess. I am here to-."

I offered him a smile. "Welcome to the palace," I bowed my head a little, which seemed to surprise him. "Please, do not call me Princess. It is fine to call me Lady." I gestured to one of the chairs in my room. "Please take a seat. It must have been a bumpy ride to the palace."

While sitting down, he nodded his head. There was a big black binder between his hands. Noticing my gaze on it, he quickly opened it, showing different canvas. "I can make different types of portraits. I thought I should bring some examples for the Pri-, Lady to choose the one she fancies the most." He stretched his arm, providing his drawings for me to look at them.

"May I ask for your name, sir?" My eyes focused on his drawings, understanding why everyone wanted to get their portrait done by the young man.

"My family name is O'Brien, while my name is Dylan, my Lady."

I nodded my head while still focused on his magnificent paintings. However, one in particular seemed to grab my full attention. It was the portrait of an elder, who appeared to be looking deep into me. He was skinny, and by his clothes, I could tell he was poor. He was sitting on a chair, and I almost gasped when I discerned that he had a missing leg. His expression was warm, a gorgeous smile decorating his face. Though, you could see that he had missing teeth.

"Did you find any equivalent style to what you desire?" His soft voice snapped me from my thoughts.

"May I ask?" I turned the portrait around, giving it back. His eyes examined the elder he had drawn. "Why is he smiling, but there are shadows around him?" I had noticed that the elder was smiling. However, black and grey adumbrations were around his figure. Some resembled horrible monsters. Especially a grey shadow that resembled a demon, resting upon his head.

He chuckled. "Those are the ones people in town ask the most." He glanced at me. "I draw their exterior as they want other people to see them. But then, around them, I draw what I can perceive or what I learnt about them." I furrowed my eyebrows. "Sadly, this man passed away a couple of weeks ago due to a cold." He licked his bottom lip. "He had offered me a home for a couple of days, and of course, he had proposed food in exchange for a portrait. Those days, I learnt many things while listening to his stories. I noticed that the man was attempting to look happy for his sick wife, whom he loved with his entire soul."

I fidgeted on my seat. "What happened, then?" I curiously asked, making him grin.

"He was not happy. He was afraid of losing the love of his life because death had knocked a couple of times on their door." He glanced at the painting. "Their children had married to people in higher positions, ignoring the elderly couple and not helping them with medicines. He was 87 years old, working in the town market. He was selling vegetables that he was cultivating by himself." He decided to continue as he saw that I was expectant of knowing more. "He never lost the smile for anyone, even if people did not treat him right. And of course, when arriving at his house, he would maintain the smile for his wife."

"Then," I tried to hide my teary eyes. "Those dark shadows..."

"Those are the monsters he tried to hide, but that I got to meet. The fear of losing his wife, the frightening feeling of wanting to end his own life, the fear of not having money to pay for his wife medicines, and so much more."

"And what happened to them?" Rosetta coughed, indicating me to fix my posture, and I quickly did, which made him furrow his eyebrows.

"As I said, one of his biggest fears was that they did not have enough money to pay for his wife's medicines." He peeped at the ground for mere seconds. "She died in her sleep. Her body could not hold the pain anymore, and she faded away."

"What about the old man?"

He nodded his head, his gaze shifting to the portrait. "He passed away in his sleep too. There was a smile in his face."

I blinked, affected by the grievous story of those who had to fight to survive. "I want one of those!" Both Rosetta and Dylan looked at me with surprised expressions decorating their faces. "I would like one of those portraits."

"My Lady, I'm sorry to intervene on matters that I should not. But I do not think the Queen will like such a portrait to be sent to those who are interested in courting you." She was right.

"She will not look at the portrait. Harold will be the one sending them." I affirmed, knowing that my mother would not dirty her hands for anything.

"It could get the young man in trouble, my Lady."

I glance at the man, who was looking at Rosetta until his eyes met mine. "Yes," I smiled, even though I was upset. "You are right. Then," I studied a portrait, a simple one. "I would like this one." Dylan nodded his head.

"It would take a couple of days to finish it. But I will be staying in the palace for the time being." He informed. "Is there any time of the day where you prefer to spend your time just standing in front of me?" He blushed a little. "Just for the portrait, of course."

"Tuesdays and Fridays I must spend receiving 'Lady classes'. The rest of the days and hours, I will be in here." I sighed, offering him another smile. "Did they give you directions for the room where you will stay?" Nodding his head, he showed me a piece of paper with some important directions to places of the palace that he could visit. "Your bedroom is at the end of this corridor. You are lucky as it is empty, except for me and Harold's room." Of course, he had met Harold already. "I must warn you not to leave your room after 11 pm as there are guards everywhere." I got up from my chair. "Rosetta," I pointed at her. "She will bring every meal to your room. Do not hesitate if you need to ask them something. There are a bathroom and a study in your chambers."

Before he could answer, the door of my chambers opened. A broad man stumbled in with decisive steps, and fury adorning his face. I gulped, stepping back before I could hold myself.

The man threw a newspaper at me, hitting my chest. Glancing at the floor, I witnessed the same newspaper my mother had been holding a couple of minutes ago. "Again?" His voice was sharp. "Did you escape again to buy those stupid books?" I shook my head. "Oh, yes, you did. Mother told me." His boots sounded like thunders as he walked closer. "I do not desire to hear any rumour of how my sister is not acting like a lady." My brother Evans glared at me. "If my future in the throne is affected by your stupid imagination and ambitions, I swear I will do whatever I must do for you to learn your lesson."

"I am s-."

"Do not you dare speak back to me!" He screamed. His gaze shifted to Dylan, who was standing too, eyes widened and what seemed anger decorating his face. "Are you the painter?" He nodded his head. "Try to make her attractive in the portrait. Hopefully, some rich soon-to-be King from another country will want to marry her." He peered at me. "Luckily, he will know when a woman needs a genuine beating to act like a lady or a wife." Those were his final words as he left the room. I finally could breathe.

"Uhm," My legs shook, and I attempted to hide it. "As I said before if you need anything, do not hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, my Lady." He got up from his chair, clutching his paintings. "Is it all right to start with the portrait tomorrow morning?" I nodded my head, wishing him goodnight as he left my bedroom.

"Rosetta," Her hands were behind her back, respectfully. "Tell Harold that I demanded not to be disturbed tonight. Not even for dinner." She nodded her head, bowing and leaving me on my own.

I sighed, wandering closer to a full-body mirror that decorated one of my walls. The moment I feared the most was getting closer. I would marry someone whom I do not love. I would marry someone whose eyes would not hold back from gawking at other women. And with those thoughts in mind, I went to sleep.

The following day, I decided to have breakfast and lunch in my chambers, not wanting to face my mother or my older brother. I had convinced Harold to stay outside my room, wanting to be on my own with Dylan. I thought that I would feel more comfortable if I didn't have someone constantly checking my posture or warning me of what should not say. Moreover, I also believed that a painter needed his privacy to reflect his art on a canvas.

I was stunned toward the bright day outside. Looking out of the window, I saw my little siblings running around the garden as some servants followed them. They were probably making their job even more complicated. Alexander and Victoria were quite the troublemakers. However, I was thrilled for them as they would not have to follow such strict indications, as to the ones I had to obey.

"Are those your siblings, my Lady?" Scared by the prompt presence, I turned around. Dylan was standing there, holding a big canvas and a briefcase, which I assumed held his painting materials. "I apologize if I alarmed you. Harold permitted me to come inside."

I nodded my head. "Yes, they are twins." I offered him a smile as he grabbed a chair, placing it in front of me. I discerned that my back was resting against the wall, and I quickly moved to stand straight. "Oh, please, no." He extended his arm. "Would it be okay for you to go back to that position? The light was caressing the right side of your face. There was a beautiful contrast." I swallowed, nodding my head while resting my back against the wall. I heard him chuckle. "Please, do not worry. It is okay for you to blink, breathe or swallow. It is also okay for you to do light movements."

"May I talk?"

"I am not great at holding conversations, but I will try my best, my Lady." He placed the blank canvas on the easel. His hands worked fast while taking out his painting material from the briefcase. "If it is not rude," He swallowed, probably questioning himself if it was okay to continue speaking. "I have noticed some books lying under the bed," I glance at my bed. Noticing that some books could be seen, which meant he was good at observing and that I did not hide my books correctly. "What books do you read?"

"Well," I gulped. "I read books about manners a lady should have in front of males and for the table. I study geography too as I must know the rest of countries for future alliances, and-."

"I apologize, my Lady." He wetted his brush. "Perhaps I formed the question wrongly. I wanted to know which books you enjoy."

My mouth opened as no one has ever asked me such a question. "You will think I am a typical young girl."

"Cannot think like that, my Lady." He mixed some colours. His painting brush, caressing the canvas delicately. "You are not a typical young girl. You are the Princess of Onism." Though those words shattered my heart, he was right. I would never be a 'normal' girl as my life was nothing like the one of an ordinary lady. "However," He continued. "When you paint someone, you get to comprehend them deeply. I believe I might discover that you are an ordinary human at heart. Something beautiful that would separate you from cold-hearted royalty." I was surprised by his words as people would not dare to talk of royalty like that.

I offered him a smile. "You might." He got distracted for a couple of seconds. His eyes navigated from the canvas to me, trying to retain my features and the folds of my clothes. "Romance." I was flustered. "I do truly enjoy romance."

"I presume something you will experience as soon as these portraits are sent."

I shook my head. "Something I presume I will never experience." His eyebrows furrowed once again. "Royalty men have the right to choose whom they will marry, even if they do not love them. Women will have to accept whomever their parents choose for her." My gaze shifted to the window for a couple of seconds. "It is my destiny."

He stopped painting for mere seconds, staring at me while slowly blinking. "Destiny can be changed." I shook my head. "It can," He nodded his head. "It might be scary or go against the rules. But destiny can be changed by the decisions you make. Only you are the sailor of the ship." He grinned. "That is something my father used to say."

"Used?"

"He passed away." He gritted his teeth. "He was a great painter too. Better than me." To my curious gaze, he decided to continue. "My mother left when I was a baby. She fell in love with a younger man, leaving my dad and me." He gulped. "Therefore, I would not dare to say that I have seen love as my mother left without looking back."

"H-Have you experience love, sir?"

"Please, call me Dylan, my Lady." There was a comfortable silence between us as he seemed to be concentrating on the portrait. "Not sure I did. Love is not what is shown in books. Nonetheless, I would like it to be like that."

"I cannot agree or disagree." I offered a sad smile, trying to hide my tears. "May we take a rest?"

He glanced at the clock hanging on my wall, nodding his head. "I apologize, time went by so fast." He cleaned and placed his paints inside his briefcase. "Good night, my Lady." I bowed back to him as he closed the door.

I waited for a couple of minutes, opening the door and seeing Rosetta waiting there. "Where is Harold?" I glance around, hoping to see the grey-haired man.

"He had to take care of some issues." She replied, looking nervous. "Do you need anything, my Lady?"

I quickly nodded my head. "I expect no dinner today, and I demand to be left alone." She furrowed her eyebrows, and before she could speak back, I stopped her. "I would like to take my nightly bath on my own, please." She nodded her head, walking away after wishing me a good night.

I closed the door of my chambers, quickly locking it as I rapidly walked into my bathroom, doing the same thing to the door. Walking closer to the bath, I turned on the faucet. I checked the temperature of the water until it was lukewarm.

I sighed as my hands went to my back, untying my dress. As the clothes fell to the ground in a surprisingly elegant manner, I appreciated not being forced to wear a corset. My legs shook as I placed one inside the water until I was sitting down.

I have read in books how a woman and a man would fall in love. A passion that they could not resist. An absolute passion that would make their hands wander through their bodies, wanting to feel each other as close as possible. I have read it so many times that I could lie to my head, making it think that I have experienced something like that.

I have read the way hands seem to burn on the skin, and how breathing becomes more arduous. And how after being pleasured, you need it over, and over again.

I sighed, feeling my nipples hardening, and I learnt they could do so even if the temperature was not cold. My left hand gripped the edge of the bathtub as the right hand rested on my chest. I decided it was time to move it, and closing my eyes, I left it to wander down while grazing my nipples.

When my fingers caressed my tummy, they seemed to become shy. Not used to the places they were descending. I have read books, but I have never experienced the feeling, which made me feel curious.

I tried to remember all the books. My fingers ended up placed on top of my bundle of nerves, and just the mere touch made me shiver from excitement. I slowly moved them in circles, adding more pressure, little by little. The temperature down there seemed to get warmer to the point where it burned. I could not avoid the need to move my fingers faster.

My left hand continued to grip the edge of the bathtub, but this time harder as my mouth opened and my vision became blurry. I felt this strange sensation. I felt like I was going to urinate inside the warm water, and even though I felt quite disgusted by the thought, I could not stop my fingers. They moved in circles, faster and adding much more pressure.

And it came. A rush of pleasure came over my body, and I could not hold back the moans escaping my mouth as I peeped down between my legs. My intimate parts turned red due to temperature and agitation. Then, I regarded the water near it, looking less transparent. So that was it. That is what a woman felt after pleasuring herself.

Curiosity invaded me even more, and I wanted to experience more further.

A couple of days had gone by, and the portrait was already looking amazingly good. I did not have any doubt of Dylan's talent as I have seen some of his works.

"Has anyone shown you around?" We had got a little closer as we spent many hours together for the portrait. He shook his head, taking off his dark green beret, and resting it on a nearer seat as he proceeded to mix some colours. "Would you like to see the gardens and the horses?"

His eyes widened. "Horses, my Lady?" I chuckled at his expression, nodding my head.

"Eight to be exact." His eyes widened even more. I remembered everything he had told me about himself, especially his love for horses. "We could take a rest. I feel dizzy from the smell of paint." He promptly nodded his head, halting and resting his brush on top of an antique plate stuffed with remains of paint.

Strolling through the gardens, I peered at him. He seemed content, having the chance to smell the fresh air mingled with the scent of the white roses that decorated our gardens. "White roses are your favourites." He had surprised me while retrieving such a simple, but a unique fact about me.

I nodded my head. "I prefer them over red roses. Those are overrated." He laughed, making my heart beat loudly. Dylan was an attractive man, and these past days I could not stop my body and my heart from reacting as soon as my gaze met his. "The stables are over there." I pointed to a couple of meters away from us. I extracted my arm as I felt something falling on it. "Oh, it seems like it will start drizzling." We walked faster to the stables, almost running as the rain appeared to fall swiftly upon our clothes. "You will adore Arden. He is my hor-." I was interrupted as I saw two bodies stirring frantically against each other. Their moans, invading the stables. "Wh-." A hand covered my mouth while another dragged me off the stables. Dylan and I ran under the rain, getting as far as possible from the horses' house.

Both of us gawked at each other in astonishment. "Maybe my eyes deceived me. However, I believe that was Harold?" He seemed as shocked as me.

"They did not trick you." I gulped. "May I add that woman was my mother?"

His eyes widened even more. "T-The Queen?" I nodded my head. "I am so sorry, my Lady."

"I am not angered by the fact she was committing adultery! I know my father is no saint." I gritted my teeth. "I am mad by the fact she lives a miserable life. In which she had to marry a man she does not love, and she wants to impose the same duty on me!" My hands reached my hair, fingers clutching it. "It is not fair for her to desire the same dull and cruel life for me!" Dylan kept quiet, allowing me to rant. "Why must not I experience falling in love with someone? I crave to be touched by adoring hands, not dirty ones that will not care about my desires and will expect for an heir to be conceived." I sighed. "I ache to live that romance until the day I die." I let my posture fall, whining. "Why cannot I be kissed by someone truly interested in me? Why cannot I be touched by someone who desi-."

My speech was interrupted as Dylan's hands rested on my cheeks. His lips were tightly pressed against mine. I have read how a kiss was mostly controlled by the fight of tongues, aspiring to be the dominant one. But this was just a simplistic kiss.

"Oh my-." His eyes widened as my mouth fell open. "I apologize for my behaviour. I do not know what came over my mind for me to-." My hands were now covering his cheeks as I bought him closer. My lips were awkwardly pressed against his. He separated from me, blinking dumbfoundedly. "Close your eyes." I did. "Open your mouth a little, my Lady." His thumb drew my lower lip downwards. As he got closer, I felt his tongue stroking my bottom lip.

My hands were pushed against his chest as I gripped his white shirt between my fingers. One of his hands had to wander to my lower back as my legs shook. His tongue was now grinding against mine, and not knowing what to do, I mimicked his actions. My mouth instinctively melted against his.

"You will be the death of me, my Lady." He held me closer. His right hand, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Literally."

The following day, I walked to the great hall, confident enough not to knock on the door before stepping inside. My mother seemed shocked to be interrupted by my presence, as she gripped the teacup tighter.

Harold wandered behind me, fear written all over his features as he had never seen me disrespecting my mother in such a way.

I gestured for the cello man to leave the room, which he quickly did, not even daring to glance at my mother. "How dare you to come inside in such a-."

"I will not get married." I interrupted her, something I have never done before. I had been informed by my brother that there was a powerful candidate for me to marry. A 52-year-old man. "I will not marry someone I do not love, and even less a 52-year-old King just for our countries to be at peace."

"You have no say on it."

"Mother, do you want me to live the same life as you?" I ventured to ask. "Do you want me to marry a man who will sleep with every servant or woman that crosses his way while my future children will have to suffer the consequences too? A boy that ought to follow the rules of a King until he becomes a tyrant. And a girl who ought to have to act as demanded. Merely for the young male of the family to be even more respected?"

"As I sai-."

"Will I be like you then, mother?" My lower lip trembled. "Will I be cold-hearted towards my children, towards my daughter? Will I have to submit her to the same shameful life as me?" I did not let Harold intervene. "Will I have to close my eyes to true love and consume my infatuation with the person I truly love in some dirty stable?" Both of them were shocked by my words. "You are preparing and forcing me to the life you both have. I do not want to hide from the public eye and keep the person I cherish a secret."

"If this is about that paint-."

"He has nothing to do with this." I did not appreciate the way she spoke about Dylan. "I have openly expressed my discomfort about marrying someone I do not love since I recollect. I understand romance books do not happen in real life. But love does, and marrying someone for my brother's throne is not love." I sighed. "It is not fair for us, women, to be treated like this while men are approached like that!"

She surprisingly glanced at me for a couple of seconds before her sober expression appeared once again. "Every King marries the women they choose. We cannot decide. Every King has bastard children." I had to remind myself that Alexander and Victoria were the children of one of our servants. "Even your brother is going to have a bastard child." I furrowed my eyebrows as it was the first time hearing that news. "Rosetta." A disgusted expression decorated my face.

"Well," I breathed deeply. "Destiny can be changed." I recited the same words Dylan had told me once. "It might be scary or go against the rules. But destiny can be changed by the decisions you make. Only you are the sailor of the ship." I glimpse at Harold. "I am tired of not being the sailor of my ship." I softened my voice. "Think about it, mother. I will do everything in my power to get out of here, even if it means dying in the process." For the first time in my life, my teary eyes were met with the glistening tears that invaded my mother's eyes. "I will be in my chambers. Please do not bother me at all."

When arriving to my bedroom, I did not expect to see Dylan waiting inside. I locked the door behind me as my eyes examined his entire body.

"Are you all right, my Lady?" He showed the briefcase he was squeezing between his fingers. "Rosetta told me to wait here for you. Since we could not continue with the portrait this morning, I assumed that perhaps, we could tonight."

"Let's escape together." My mouth seemed to move on its own. However, Dylan stared at me with complete confusion decorating his features.

"My Lady, I do not think I understand what you are trying to imply." He knew.

"I have told you before I do not plan on marrying someone whom I do not love." I walked to my bed, sitting down on the mattress. "It has been decided without letting me know that I will get married to the King of Hiraeth."

He glanced down at the floor for a couple of seconds to later shift his gaze on my direction. "Perhaps he is not only a noble because of his blood. Perhaps he is also noble at heart."

"It does not matter if he is noble at heart or not," I answered decisively. "He is a 52 year-old-man! And as I said before, someone I do not love!"

He sighed. "My Lady," Resting his briefcase on the floor, he pulled a chair to sit in front of me. Though, he maintained the distance. "If I am not wrong, you have never met this man before. You might end up fallin-."

"Do not dare to say that!" I got up from the bed, eyes flickering. "Please, do not be like the rest of those who live in this palace! The first time you came here, you told me I could change my fate." He swallowed, nodding his head. "That is what I am trying to do." My hands were squeezing the skirts of my dress. "Please."

"I cannot take you anywhere, my Lady. You are the Princess of Onism. Everyone in town knows the beauty you behold." He coughed while deeply looking into my eyes. "I do not know anyone that will keep the secret of you being in to-."

"You are not understanding me, Dylan." I tried to ignore the way his body shivered every time my tongue and lips worked together to create his name. "I know I told you that I have never experienced love." I bit my lower lip, taking a breath. "I only know what I have read in books." He nodded his head, waiting for me to continue. "But I understand my feelings. Even before the day we kissed under the rain, I was already attracted to you."

"Attraction is something that can be felt many-."

I stepped closer, making him glance up. "It was attraction, I admit." Both of my hands navigated towards my back. "But my heart beats madly, whenever you are near me, whenever I glance at you or when I think about you." He got up from his chair, slightly stepping back. "I am utterly sure that I am in love with a man who worries about me and my feelings. Someone who has been encouraging me and that has seen my fears."

"My Lady," He gulped. "I truly feel honoured to be inside your mind and heart. I will not lie as I do also feel the same towards you." When I moved closer, he prevented me. "But you are a Princess, and I am just a simple man who paints in exchange for food and a roof." He blinked fastly. "I cannot give you the life you might expect." He offered me a side-smile. "And of course, our relationship would not be approved by the King and Queen." His voice turned softer. "Neither by the soon-to-be King of Onism."

"I do not care!"

"But I do, my Lady." He breathed deeply. "I do not want you to live a life where people will insult and degrade you plainly because you married a penniless man, or because you did not obey the established rules of the members of the royalty."

"I already have that life, where I am discredited just because I am a woman." This time when I stepped closer, he did not back away. "I already have to follow settled rules for the sake of my brother." My hands were still behind my back, and I finally decided to let them untie. He did not notice yet. "But now I have found someone who makes me feel something I have never experienced before." I sighed. "What did you do to me, Dylan?" He opened his mouth. "My mind and heart are full of you, and they constantly demand my body to be filled by you too."

His neck and cheeks turned red as he seemed to have difficulties while swallowing his spit. His eyes shifted around the room, trying to decide what to do. "My Lady," He sighed in desperation. His hands travelling through his body while he clenched it and gritted his teeth. "I truly have been trying to hold back." His hands now grazed his face. "I have been trying to hide how in love I am with you as I am just someone who does not deserve you."

"You are the man who deserves me the most." The shoulders of my dress fell, displaying my bare skin. His eyes widened even more. "And you do not have to hold back anymore." Finally, the cloth fell onto the ground. "I have read so many things, but I have never thought of experiencing them." I felt embarrassed by revealing such a matter. "I could not hold my hands from exploring my body for the first time as your image was in my mind."

"You did?" I nodded my head. His eyes had never left mine, not even to peer at my underwear. A rush of confidence seemed to hasten through him as he walked to the door, securing it. "Show me." My expression must have confused him. "Show me how you did it."

It was my turn to gulp as I got on my mattress, lying down on my back. I was slightly sitting thanks to the pillow, which granted me to discern Dylan as he shuffled closer to the end of the bed.

My bralette was already off, but his eyes still fixed on mine. "You can look." As soon as those words came out of my mouth, his eyes glanced down at my chest. It seemed like he had complications breathing.

My hands gently travelled down, gripping the sides of my underwear and slowly bringing them down my legs. The chilly air was a contrast of temperature to my entire body. I shifted my legs to completely discard my panties, which ended up someplace on the ground.

I permitted my fingers to touch the bundle of nerves, suffering a chill through my body that reminded me of that time in the bathtub, or the following times where I could not restrain my needs. Rubbing on circles, my other hand went to my mouth, biting on it not to make any sound.

"That is how you did it?" I nodded my head. "Until you exploded?" Again, I acknowledged with my head. "My Lady. Has any man touch you in such a way?" Shaking my head, he offered me a smile. "May I be the first one to do so?" I nodded my head, which he did not seem to like. "Please, use your words."

"I do," I did not hesitate. "I do want to be touched by you, Dylan."

"I might die right now, my Lady." He wandered closer. His hands slowly discarded his dark blue beret. Then, his fingers rapidly unbuttoned his white shirt, which had some dark little stains due to his paintings. His body was fit, enough to make a woman drool. I must say, he seemed broader than what I have imagined. "Have you ever introduced your fingers inside?"

I shook my head.

I hear the sound of his shoes falling to the ground as he kneeled on the end of the bed. His right hand moved my left hand from my clit, leading it to his hair. "Hold on tight, my Lady." Not sure of his next actions, I shivered as his breath hit my heated core. His tongue peeked out from his mouth, gently grazing my centre.

I gripped his soft hair between my fingers, making his gaze shift to look deep into my eyes. His tongue lapped, adding pressure on my clit. I whined as his tender tongue left my core to slid down and up a couple of times, extending my wetness all over my intimate part.

I was utterly surprised when the tip of his tongue ended up inside me, and he seemed to noticed as he grounded it against my walls. His right hand slowly left my thigh, where his grip had been tough. "I will be gentle." His whispers were almost unnoticeable as my moans were louder, feeling one of his warm fingers getting coated by my juices as he introduced it, inside my vagina. "Does it feel good?" Without waiting for an answer, he started thrusting it. His lapping tongue and his thrusting finger, producing a drooling combination.

"Oh my god," The candles that were lit, and resting on the table next to my bed seemed to flatter by a scene hotter than their flames. "Faster, please." I must not lie. Introducing his second finger on me had provided a slight pain. But seconds later, it had been replaced by an unbelievable pleasure. "Please do not make me beg."

"I would like to see you beg, my Lady." His mouth had left my clit, chin dripping with my fluids. "I would love to see you beg under the light of the candles while no one else knows that you are getting the love and passion you deserve." His fingers made a wet sound when they left my insides. I could not help but whine as he got farther from my body but became expectant when his fingers played with his belt.

As soon as he slid his pants down his legs, I could not help but moan again. There was a bulge between his legs, and I could not help but get flustered thinking about having him inside me. However, I was quite worried about his size as he already seemed thick through his pants.

I remembered a scene from a book where this girl had her first experience with her childhood friend. They had become lovers and decided to consume their love on top of the counter of the protagonist's kitchen. Her description of the scene was incredibly detailed. And even though my body had become more heated while reading it, I could not help but be worried when she described the experience as feeling as if she was getting 'ripped', which was quite vulgar but exciting in an unusual way.

I had been distracted by my thoughts, as to when I realized my rounds, Dylan's member was finally free. It stood tall and thick against his stomach. He could not help but contain his grin as I gasped.

"I never-."

"I know, my Lady." His hands grabbed my ankles, calmly making their way to my thighs, which he squeezed while separating my legs even more. "I am utterly happy to be the first and only man to make love to you." Uh? "I will take care of you for the rest of my life." His eyes looked deep into mine, asking for permission for his next movements and actions. Of course, I nodded.

He grabbed his shaft, his hand circling it while he thrust into his clenched fist a couple of times. He left if free, spitting on his hand to later grab his member again, lubricating it.

"I am a little scared," I confessed, shifting my gaze to his face. "You are so thick and long. H-How is that supposed to fit inside-."

"We can stop if you want, my Lady." One of his thumbs caressed one of my thighs. "There is no rush and enough time to do this whenever you feel ready."

"I do want to do it! I am just a little scared." I gulped, glancing down at his member. "Could you maybe go slowly?"

He nodded his head, getting closer and placing a peck on my lips. "Whatever you wish for, my Lady." Asking for permission again, he waited until it was granted, for the tip of his member to graze the lips of my vagina. "Here I go." He started adding pressure. Until the entire tip was inside, making me gasp. "Sh, breathe." His right hand went to my tummy, caressing it. "We can go slower."

I nodded my head as I took deep breaths, ignoring the tears that were falling from the corner of my eyes. A couple of minutes went by when I decided that the pain had become a pleasure. I shifted my hips toward Dylan. I was right as there was only pleasure. "Dylan, please," I whined. "Please move."

His entire member was inside me, and Dylan's thrusts had become steady and swift. His mouth was travelling from my jaw to my lips, sometimes stopping to ask for my well-being.

One of his hands left my hips, going between our bodies as he started circling my clit, adding more pleasure. "Oh my gosh," I raised my voice, not being able to hold back the incredible feeling. "Lord, please go faster." I circled my legs around his hips, bringing him closer if it was possible. His member, hitting places that it could not reach before. Wails of satisfaction came out of my mouth. "Please, fuck me harder."

He seemed quite shocked by my choice of words as his eyes widened. But he had seemed to enjoy them too, as his thrusts became even faster and sloppier. "I will not last long." He groaned, not afraid of expressing his pleasure while his lips grazed my ear. "I have been dreaming of this for so long." His moans made my entire body shiver. His right hand, circling my clit even faster. "Please, my Lady. Tell me you are close. Please."

"I am!" I drowned my screams while biting his shoulder. "I am so close." His left hand travelled to my left nipple, toying with it. The different stimulations, getting me dizzy while my vision became blurry. And I came undone under Dylan's body.

Reading was nothing like experiencing it.

My breath was laborious. Dylan stayed inside, thrusting a couple of times more until he quickly came out, thrusting in his clenched fist. He was going to finish soon. His eyes, questioning where to explode. My hands went to my breasts, holding them together.

Dylan's eyes widened as he understood what I was implying. He moved, his hips getting closer as his dick ended up being embraced by my breasts. I held them in place while he thrust, moaning at the contact. His tip, hitting my chin and lower lip. He did not last much longer, exploding and cumming all over my chin and lower lip.

He gasped, our bodies full of sweat. "I made a mess. I am so sorry, my L-." My tongue peeked out of my mouth, licking some of the cum that was resting on my lower lip. "I-. Oh, gosh." His lips settled up against mine. His tongue, parting my lips so his tongue could slowly dance against mine. "Did it feel good?"

"It felt amazing." I was still trying to breathe at a regular pace.

He kissed my forehead, leaving the bed and wandering to the bathroom. His member was still lightly hard. But he quickly gave me the view of his butt.

When he came back, he was gripping a towel. Sitting on the side of the bed, he slowly cleaned his release from my chin and chest. Then, folding it, he cleaned between my legs. He was cautious, trying not to hurt me as my entire body was sensitive. Next, he discarded the towel.

His body fell on the bed next to mine. We both gazed into each other's eyes with foolish smiles decorating our faces. "I do not want to leave. But night curfew will be soon."

"I do not care." I wrapped my sore body against him, breathing in. "Stay here. Nobody will know. You can leave early in the morning." I did not notice I was pouting until his lips pecked mine. Then, the rest of the night was a cuddling blur as exhaustion took over our bodies.

Another couple of days had gone by, and it was nearly impossible to keep our hands for ourselves. Dylan had been sleeping in my chambers, which was difficult to hide. I had been ignoring my mother and Harold as much as possible. And thankfully, my brother was away in a political meeting with my father. We had also continued the portrait sessions, which sometimes ended with our bodies full of paint as we could not hold back for holding each other.

I must confess that there had been sexual escapes around the palace, which was a surprise, as we did not get caught yet. Momentarily, Dylan's boxers were around his ankles like his pants as I was grabbing the skirts of my dress.

My face and chest were pressed against the wall of a tiny room while he thrust in me from behind. "Ah, we will get caught." He whispered but did not stop his movements. "You are going to be the death of me, my Lady."

We had been walking around the castle until I could not hold back myself anymore. I took Dylan's hand, going inside a tiny room that, it is used, for cleaning materials. Therefore, we were fucking as fast as we could, aiming for a release. "Please, go deeper!"

"I believe I am as immersed as I can, my Lady." The sound of our skin slapping against each other turned both of us on even more.

We both were close to our release. But we were rudely interrupted by the door of the room opening, showing Rosetta and Harold, who stared at us with surprise written all over their faces.

Dylan quickly came out of me, pulling his boxers and pants up while I let the skirts of my dress fall.

"Harold," I started. "Please, do not say anything." My eyes begged. "Could you please give us five minutes and wait in my chambers?" Without saying anything, they closed the door. "Oh my god."

"It is okay, my Lady." Fear was visible in his face and voice.

I was baffled as when entering my chambers, my mother was there, next to Harold. He ignored my gaze, staring deep into Dylan's eyes.

"Mother-."

"I told you!" She did not hesitate to raise her voice. "I know you did not choose to be a princess, but this is what we have to deal with." I could not protest. "I am not trying to make you miserable. I was trying to avoid a situation like this where this young man," Surprisingly, she did not glare at the young man next to me, who was squeezing my hand. "And you will be in danger!" She sighed. "Imagine if it was your father or brother finding you two! They arrived early this morning!" I did not know about their arrival. "He would have killed him and make you watch." I gasped, getting teary. "I did not want you guys to end as I did."

"What?" I asked while being overwhelmed by confusion.

"Your mother," Harold decided to spoke as my mother had to seat on the end of my bed, trying to calm herself. "She fell in love with a servant of this palace, way before you were born." Dylan and I were pretty interested in the story. "You do not choose who you love, my Lady." He shifted his gaze between the two of us. "However, keeping such a secret was complicated. And eventually, someone found out." His hand rested on my mother's back. "Unfortunately, the one that discovered them passionately kissing in the gardens was your father." I gulped while swaying closer to Dylan, searching for his warmth. "He executed him right there, in front of your mother."

"Those white roses used to be red." My mother's voice shook while she referred to those planted in our garden. "It was so repulsive to see that his blood mattered nothing when for me mattered the world. He was my world." She offered us a sad smile. "No one mourned for his loss except me. His body was taken away by other servants in uncaring behaviour. His blood could not be seen, because it had splattered on the flowers that had the same tone." She wept, trying to breathe and calm herself to continue. "It was as if he had never existed. I thought I had gone crazy, and I had imagined the love and the man that I desired to have."

"Mother," My eyes were teary. "I am so sorry that happened to you, and now, I understand you tried to protect me." I glimpsed at Harold for a couple of seconds. "But this is just throwing me into a deeper hole. I will end up in a similar situation to yours, and my children will be doomed, to the same cruel fate." I was desperate. "Mother, destiny can be changed." Dylan was looking at me, a tiny smile on his face while he rubbed one of my freezing hands.

"I have seen you grow up," Harold intervened. "I have learnt every one of your moves, understanding when you wanted to cry or laugh." He grinned, crossing his arms. "Deep inside, I knew one day you would want to fight from the established and dull life you are supposed to live."

"He spoke to me." My mother continued. "Harold opened my eyes, and he taught me to perceive that you were falling in love with this young man." She bowed at Dylan, and he returned the same gesture. "And I perceived that this young man was falling in love with you too."

"Your father and brother lied of their whereabouts." Harold stepped closer. "They bought with them a visitor."

My mother shifted closer to us. "It is the King of Hiraeth." She gulped. "The 52 year-old-man that they expect to marry you with."

"No," I shook my head. "Please, mother." I could not stop the tears from falling down my cheeks. "Please, mother. Do not let them do that. Please. Please." Before I could fall to my knees, my mother held her hand up, offering me a brown bag.

"It is yours now." My mother replied, sliding the bag into my hands. "This will help both of you." Money, there was a lot of gold inside the bag. Dylan was looking inside the container with wide eyes as I did. "If I had stolen money from your father, he would have noticed. Therefore, I bargained my jewellery." Her hand unconsciously went to her neck, and I noticed her diamond necklace missing.

"Here," Harold extended his arm, offering us a piece of paper. Dylan clutched it. It was a map. "That black circle is your shared property. It is a near kingdom, not too far from here but enough for you two to be safe and not be recognized, as the Princess of Onism."

"What?" My mouth was agape.

"It is Elysian. It is a small town full of life, and it is secure." Harold explained with a smile. "It is your new home. The money will help you guys for a couple of years, but of course, my Lady, you will have to get used to a life without servants and luxuries. However, I do not have any doubt that you will be able to adapt to such a life."

"Then," I glanced at my mother. "You are helping me escape?"

"I am helping both of you leave." She cried. "I am helping you get out of the life you did not choose and the one you do not desire." I turned around to stare at Dylan, who had tears running down his cheeks while smiling at me. He shyly pecked my forehead. He wiped his tears while bowing again, staying in that position for a couple of seconds. "No, no, please stand up." He did. "We are family now. Please take care of my little girl."

"I will, your highness." His words sounded so confident that it made my heart beat violently.

"W-What about you two?" I glanced between them. "Are you coming with us?" I was expectant to hear their answer.

My mother shook her head. "We did change our destiny." She referred to the present situation. "Do not worry about us."

"But-."

"My Lady," Harold took me into his arms, embracing me. "Escaping is more complex for us. But do not worry, because we will end up getting away from here. One day, we will." He smiled at me. "For now, Arden is prepared to take you both far from Onism tonight."

I nodded my head. "Take care of my mother, and thank you for being like a father to me." After squeezing him, I quickly hugged my mother. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Before they left my room, my mum turned around. "Dylan is your name, right?" He nodded his head. "I viewed the portrait. It looks marvellous. Take it with you." He was perplexed. "The portrait was for the man that will marry her. That man is you, so that portrait belongs to you."

"I bought gifts!" I overheard two squeals, rolling my eyes with a foolish smile, adorning my features. Two tiny figures ran to the owner of the voice. "Perhaps you both only love me when I bring presents."

"Perhaps they do." I walked closer to the man, whose beautiful smile was aimed, at me. My right hand gripped his arm, a signal for him to lower his head so I could peck his lips. "Welcome home. I made your favourite dish." My lips had trapped his bottom one between mines for a couple of seconds, making him whine lowly.

He seemed to be dumbfounded while pecking my lips a couple of times until our children interrupted the moment with their excitement to know what their father had brought them. "Well," He chuckled. "I bought my little princess this!" He took a stuffed animal from his coffee-coloured bag. Charlotte squealed and giggled while running around the room with her new plaything. "And I bought my not-so-little prince," He remembered how our little boy did not want to be named as a child anymore. "This." He showed him a new brand book, which cover was of a dark blue with golden touches.

Thomas could not help but grin. "This book was printed a couple of days ago! Thank you so much, father!" He tightly hugged his dad. "Perhaps I could bring it with me to the Addington's home?" He could not help but jump around due to his excitement. "I believe Newt will love it too!"

Dylan nodded his head. "Take care fo your sister, please."

The Addington's were a young family of five that lived next door. We were constantly inviting each other over to our homes, wanting the kids to play together. We, the adults, were also mates. A couple of times, we babysit each other's kids to have privacy with our respective partners.

As soon as the kids were out of the door, Dylan's briefcase had fallen to the ground. He had been away for an entire week due to a commission of a portrait where he would earn a lot of money.

His hands were caressing my entire body as we both tried to make our way to our shared chamber, in hopes of continuing the passion there. "I have missed you so much, my Princess."

My fingers moved quickly, trying to untie the dress I was wearing. My hands were sweaty, and Dylan must have noticed as he ended up unlacing my attire. "I am not a Princess anymore."

He swallowed, eyes focused on my breasts as I was not wearing a bralette. Both of his warm hands slid up, cupping my bosom. His fingers grazed my nipples while his entire hands squeezed the rest. "You are right." His gaze shifted to my lips. "You are the queen of my heart now, my Lady." That name had stayed since the very beginning, and every time it came rolling gently out of his lips, my undergarments got drenched.

"I will explode right here, Dylan." I moaned as my hands were busy sliding down his pants while he worked on his jacket and shirt. "I have missed having you around. And being around you."

He groaned, slipping one of his hands behind my back as he squeezed my buttocks. I whined when he pinched it. "You seem to be so desperate for me."

"That smirk," I grinned while kissing his bottom lip. "Perhaps you are as desperate as me." I glanced down as I spotted his hard bulge against my front.

"I am not as needy as you are, my Lady." The last word was said sensually, making my legs shake.

"I am sure you are as needy as me, Sir." It was that word for him. I could feel the temperature of his body rising.

"What does my queen require from such a humble servant?" He acted while sprawling my body down on the bed. His hands, gripping the sides of my panties, bringing the down and discarding them. "Maybe she needs help down here?" One of his fingers ran up and down, collecting my fluids. He did not hesitate to bring that finger into his mouth, savouring it. "My Lady, perhaps I should confess that you taste like Heaven, itself."

His face leaned closer to my core, but I immediately stopped him. He glimpsed at me, confused. "I want to be the one giving you as much pleasure as possible." Sitting down on the bed, my hands pushed against his chest until he was the one lying on his back.

I questioned myself when he had taken his boxers off as his member sprang free, hitting his tummy. Pre-cum was decorating his pink tip while sometimes, you could see it palpitating as the veins were tightening.

My right hand started working immediately, grabbing his shaft while going up and down. I softly squeezed it as his arm rested on top of his forehead, blissfully. My thumb stayed on the tip, playing with the tiny drops of pre-cum.

"Gosh, are you an angel?" His words wavered as my left hand cupped his balls, lightly tugging on them. "My Lady, I need your mouth, please." I attended his demands, my left hand still playing with his balls.

However, my mouth was also sucking on the lowest part of his member. Licking my way up, my mouth embraced the tip of his dick. His hands went through my hair, settling on grasping it forcefully and guiding me down until his entire thick member was inside my mouth.

His moans got louder as his hips could not hold back, shifting upwards, choking me as his tip scraped the back of my throat. "My Lady." Glancing upwards, I could see the sweat falling down his forehead. His entire body was sweating, especially the part of his chest with a spot of hair.

I sucked harder, preventing my teeth from grazing his delicate member. "May I come inside your mouth, my Lady?" Humming against his dick, he seemed to understand my permission. A couple of hard thrusts that chocked me and he was cumming down my throat, spilling a big load. His breath was laborious as his hands caressed my hair back. "Please, ride me."

He whined when his member lost the warmth of my mouth as I shifted my body to position myself on top of him. My left hand was resting against his chest. My other hand, grabbing his still firm member. "May I?" He nodded his head. As soon as he was filling me up, both of us became a moaning mess. "Ah, I felt so empty without your dick inside me."

His hands instantly clutched my hips as he encouraged me to bounce on top him. "You look so ravishing while you bounce on my dick." I moaned, loving his dirty talk. "I could do this every day. I love how your breasts bounce while you are getting stretched by my dick." He gulped. "They have got even bigger after you had our beautiful children." His right hand slapped my ass. "Listen," I ceased my moans as I heard the slapping sounds of our skins. "You are so wet for me, my Lady. Your pussy demands to hold my dick."

Both of my hands were now resting against his chest. "I am going to explode." The hand that was on my ass moved to the front, flicking my clitoris. "You fill me up so good, Sir!"

"I will fill you even more soon." He groaned, sitting down so he could move me closer to my body. Our mouths, touching in an open kiss. "I am going to release my entire load inside you. I am going to impregnate you, my Lady." I moaned. "You want that, right?" His thrusts became sloppier and harder. "You want to get filled and carry another gorgeous baby." I nodded my head. "You are as irresistible while pregnant. The way you cannot keep your hands to yourself. The way your bosom gets even bigger."

"Please, fill me."

No more words needed to be said as our teeth clattered against each other, riding our highs together. My vision got blurry, and my moans louder as I felt all of his huge load filling me up. "Oh, fuck me, my Lady. You take my load so good." The rest was full of kisses and warm under the sheets. His member had softened inside me.

On one of the walls of our chambers, there was a portrait of my younger self. She resembled grave and upset. Her composture seemed forced, but around her body, there were flames. Sparks that represented the passion she badly wanted to share. The adventures she wanted to live. There was a yellow light, which seemed, to be connected to her heart.

Dylan had described a young lady who aspired to live a passionate life. A young woman whose heart and mind were full of hope.

There was a lovely detail on the portrait. On the wall behind the young girl, there was a mirror, where you could perceive a young Dylan, examining the woman before him with a peculiar shining light on his eyes. The identical light young Y/N had while looking at Dylan O'Brien, the humble painter who shared the 'fictional' love she always wanted to experience.The love they both found and fancied.

Yes, destiny could be changed.

Those who asked to be tagged. Thank you for showing interest:

@og-baby-ob14 - @sweetest-serpent01 - @tovvaa - @jazminebrightxx - @sonnydoesrandomshit - @badgyal-barbie - @trustfundparker - @blueraindrops

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tempural · 2 years

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Artcade 2022 Post-Mortem

“Artcade” has been an event for the last two years’ summer: 2022, and 2021. I meant for Artcade to serve as a creative trading and gifting event formed around our original characters, and for Artcade to serve as an alternative to events that do not allow NSFW, or non-illustration work.

Sculpture, music playlists, writing, and any other form of creativity is allowed in my event. Most NSFW content is allowed with descriptive warnings and a spoilered image, save for content banned from Discord because the event is hosted on Discord.

This year, the event took place from July 1st to August 1st.

25 different people created art for reach other.

All together, we made 218 pieces of art! That’s an average of 8 pieces per person! I myself made 16 pieces for the 16 other people who chose to create something for me.

More under the cut.

Setting up the event:

We use the discord server in which I host art events and zines for Artcade. A couple different channels were dedicated to the event:

An information channel in which rules were posted, and a link to a google docs with more in depth descriptions.

A directory in which individuals would post their name, a link to character references (whether on refsheet or their own site), their likes, and their Do Not Wants (very important!).

An art channel in which individuals would post their art. New to this year, a thread would be made on that piece so that each piece could get in depth comments and discussion without being interrupted by any new pieces.

A “sidequest” channel for individuals to post their pieces for the zine cover (more on that later)

A points-and-prizes channel to contain the usage of the discord bot which allocated points and prizes (more on that later!)

A event discussion channel, in which people could ask questions or just talk to each other about what’s going right or going wrong.

The event was open to anyone who signed up for my June newsletter, or if they were too late they could ask for an invite from a friend. I made a few social media posts about the event and newsletter, but otherwise did not have open calls. I reasoned that a small “screening” process would limit the amount of people (as I cannot moderate too many people in my server), and ensure that anyone who wanted to participate in the event had the patience to wait a couple weeks and read through the information in the newsletter first.

In the future, I would probably make the “screening” process a bit more selective than an open newsletter. It seemed that some people joined without knowing who I was, or what my art was about. This is not ideal, as my art can be considered disturbing and should not be seen by most normal people.

Because I purposely choose not to use the “proship” or “antiship” fandom buzzwords, it seems that some people who rally against whatever “gross” NSFW stuff got lost and found their way in the event. This perhaps could be prevented if I used the fandom buzzwords, but I find it disgusting to have to use fandom terms in order to clearly get my point across about how I literally do not care if people draw porn of BBW caillou’s ass or naruto eating shit.

Another option for next year would be to use a form to collect contact information of people wanting to participate, and to privately DM them the invite link. Individually sending links would require 20x more effort. It would also necessitate some snooping and people willingly giving me their social media links so I can straight up tell them “dude your DNI says dni if you draw necrophilia and i draw necrophilia dude lol”. If someone does not have an online presence, that would also make the snooping a moot point as I would hate to require a website or socmed in order to join the event.

In any case, most of the set-up was done in cleaning up the rules and guidelines from last year. I tried to accentuate that people should practice self care about what art they choose to engage with, by adding a line about “Skip over the Romanian incest cannibal named Blammibal Erecter, and choose another character to draw. “ But y’know, it’s a long document and not everyone reads everything.

---

Points and Prizes:

Last year’s theme was a chuck-e-cheeze parody. This year’s theme was an arcade! Both themes were to set up the “point” system, in which points were awarded for pieces made.

Certain milestones like “coding your own website” also rewarded points for behaviors I wanted to encourage. Coding one’s own static website (i recommended neocities) was something I wanted everyone to get started on, as refsheet and toyhouse are not necessarily going to be up forever or allow all content. We’ve seen that with tumblr purging NSFW posts, or various other character sheet websites going down. I wanted everyone to be vigilant, and have fun having complete control over how their characters were presented!

The prizes were most jokes, like photos of my dogs for 60 points or changing my discord name for 200. There were some physical prizes like zines (from my store, or the artcade zine we’d form with the art we create). I did not want the focus of the event to be on prizes, but have them be fun rewards to redeem.

By far, the most valued prize was the “Movie Night” despite it being a paltry 20 points. As such, it was accessible to most people who made just a couple things, and participants talked about what movies they were thinking of choosing for their One True Choice making the value very great in Community Value. Movie nights were a thing in the server far before Artcade, but it was just fun to have that one big movie that you wanted to show everyone and force me and Shane to watch! Are our opinions and live reactions to movies valued?!

Movies watched included: Amores Perros, Michael Collins, Rituals. We have a few more lined up in the back when people choose a date.

Things to think about:

The point system is imperfect, but always will be because the act of making art cannot be assigned a numeric value, especially based on volume of art made. I simply want them to be some representation of the progress one has made in the event, so one can look back and see how much they’ve made for others.

I would like to mitigate any and all focus on the points and prizes as the main point of the event. The point of the event is to learn about each other’s characters, learn about each other, and hopefully have fun while building a supportive community. No one should be fixating on getting 250 points so they can redeem a movie.

I will mitigate more of the physical prizes, as they take a lot of effort to make, and a lot of money to mail out. The artcade zine has not been finished yet, but it may be the only thing I am willing to send out in the future.

The point system may be simplified further to only award points for each new person a piece has been made for, and return fires. It has been made evident to me that I underestimate most writers. I consider 2000 words (the max word count that counts for points) a very high amount to write in a week, but it seems that other writers can consistently write that much in just a day or two!

If the point system is simplified and deflated, we can deflate the points for the prizes to be less like 240 points. It’ll be easier to think of them as individual pieces made.

---

Moderation:

By far the most difficult thing for anything with more than like 5 people. No one is guaranteed to get along with each other, and no one is guaranteed to have read any rules.

The event was 99% smooth sailing in my opinion.

The thing we had to address the most was the use of “deviantart fetish” as a term in DNWs (Do Not Wants), along with “gross stuff” and similarly vague descriptors. While it seemed a certain subsect of the population knew exactly what a deviantart fetish was, many others were confused as to what that entailed. After many discussions with the server, I concluded that the term should not be used because it does not inform the reader and is used judgmentally (no one ever says they WANT a deviantart fetish in their art, and it’s designated as the “other” weird fetishes). The event was supposed to be inclusive, and the server is described as kink-friendly. As such, participants should not be using judgemental language. You never know if I’m the one with the “deviantart fetish” :)

The Do Not Want section is supposed to be for the artists’ own safety. It is not a place to put one’s personal judgements on display. While one can be free to dislike pee and poo fart fetishes, there is never any need to elaborate on why it’s gross or even say that it’s gross. Just say it and be done. I would encourage artists to elaborate more on what they do like, rather than write huge lists of things they hate.

Some things to think about:

Simplify the rules on Discord to just the basics, and have an outside site like dreamwidth to elaborate on the rules. The google docs is not quite accessible on mobile, and laggy.

Zpires had a great page on “ID”, which was basically a great “likes/prompts” list with elaboration on why that pings the brain. I would encourage people to focus on writing that rather than the DNW.

If someone has a great amount of fetishes they do not want, to the point that they need to use a vague term like “deviantart kink” or “gross stuff” to try and cover all bases, I would encourage them to simply say that they do not want NSFW or sexual art, unless the kink is specifically listed in their “wants” list, or the art has been discussed beforehand with both participants.

I need to make it absolutely clear that there should be no shaming of ships, fandom, interests, kinks, or anything else. It’s much more productive to focus on things you do like, rather than make everyone around you silent and uncomfortable because you are making fun of things they may enjoy.

I should make the join link for next artcade accesible only if the reader presses a specific checkbox or hidden button LOL. Like “press here if you love necrophilia and spiderman 2002″. Just to hammer in the atmosphere of the server.

I should not be afraid to just kick people if they seem like they are misunderstanding everything and do not fit in the climate I am trying to cultivate. No one is meant to get along with everyone, and they are free to participate in any other art event that does not involve making me uncomfortable.

---

That’s about all I can think of for Artcade! I feel like it was an astounding success, twice as much work but twice as much art from twice as many people! It really warms me heart hearing people say that they enjoyed the event, and had their creativity stoked in a art community that uplifts personal expression and original ideas. Now to get to work on the zine... that’ll make everyone jealous cuz no one will get one except particpants!!!! >:)

#hella long posts #artcade #post-mortem #analysis #meta

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mack3030 · 4 years

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Things the Sims 4 Community Can Do About Paywalls...A Post...

[This is going to be a bit long, so you may want to save it and read it when you have time, or just...you know, buckle in.]

I thought I would ring in the new year by talking about something that I feel we as a community need to finally decide on. (It’s been debated since 2017 or so, and it’s now 2021...) I’d like, if possible, to try to suggest some real solutions and choices that we can make that will hopefully create a better and more honest community out of all of us. Now I would like to start by making some postulates. In geometry, postulates are facts that do not need proven with a mathematical proof. They are assumed to be true. Thomas Jefferson and the founding fathers would call these “Self-Evident Truths”. I would like to use these as a bit of a basis for my arguments.

Truth: The Sims 4 has been enough of a cash cow for EA. If you buy the base game ($40) plus all expansion packs (40 each x 10) + all game packs (20 each x 9) + all stuff packs (10 each x 17) you would come to a total of seven hundred and 90 dollars ($790) plus tax. This is of course, without sales, bundling, etc, which many people DO take advantage of, but STILL. That is a TON of money for EA’s pockets. EA makes a majority of its money on the fact that the Sims 4 is an “incomplete game”. It “completes” the game further and further by adding more “expansions” to the game to the point that it seems almost useless to buy the base game alone without adding to it.

Even with sales and other things, it’s easy to spend over $500 dollars on the sims 4 game + expansions. Still a lot of cash for a game that is years old. This is just money that is spent on the game that goes to EA. This does not account for: * Money spent to buy a new computer because your old one wouldn’t run the sims. * Money spent supporting CC artists who have donations open or early access. * Money spent on access to sites that have ads/paywalls/exclusive sims 4 CC such as Leosims, etc. (Which are the problem, frankly)

We should be able to respect the fact that a majority of us paid a hefty amount for this game. It is unfair, and frankly greedy to REQUIRE people to pay MORE just to unlock or gain access to specific user created content.

I am not talking about a VOLUNTARY support or donation because they like what you offer. I am talking about FORCING people to pay if they want to ever be able to use the CC or mod you offer.

Now, the typical defense for this is “Well, I’m an artist! I spend time/effort/etc working hard on these meshes, the code, etc to make this content!” Which leads me to point #2.

Truth: Mods, CC, and other content for the Sims 4 are useless without the game. Once they are created/uploaded to the game, all copyright to those objects IMMEDIATELY transfers to EA.

I teach art in a Missouri public school. Our state standards dictate that when art students are in middle school grades, they have to learn about copyright, fair use, and creative commons. While I am not a copyright lawyer, I have had to learn enough about this subject to teach it. So allow me to break down a few facts about copyright:

First, when ya make it, ya own it. There’s not a process to apply for a copyright. The moment you create something that is 100% your own work, you hold the copyright to it.

Second, when you make something that is created based off of or USING someone else’s intellectual property as a reference or resource it is a fan creation. In art, we call this “fanart”. It is not 100% your own work. Someone else’s intellectual property is involved.

Fan creations always have tread a very thin and shadowy line when it comes to different companies and the legality of them. You can easily search google for various articles explaining it, but to summarize it in a short method:

Most companies do not actively go after those who create fan creations unless they are making profits that could instead be going to the creators of the intellectual property. If the fan creation is discovered to be making profits and/or taking the intellectual property in a direction the creator does not approve of, they have legal options to pursue (court, cease and desist letters, etc).

Third, Copyright can be transferred from person to person. In most cases this is done through a written document that both parties sign, however there IS an exception to this that EA uses to allow itself to transfer your copyrights to your content to them:

EA’s agreement with you is non-exclusive, meaning that the moment you hit “agree” on the sims 4 terms and conditions, you have handed over your rights to any CC you create for the game.

If you want to maintain full creative rights over the mesh/mods/etc you make then, you have to not make that content for the sims 4 and make your own platform to host it on. This is way easier said than done.

Truth: There have been various examples in the past of CC creators who have stolen meshes, bases, bits/pieces of work, or “inspiration” for CC from other sites/companies, who have been called on it publicly.

The most recent event concerning this was drama concerning itsbrandysims and their use of meshes from imvu/secondlife (you can see my opinion on the subject HERE), but there have been other documented cases. Leosims, for example, has been listed as an example of someone taking meshes from secondlife creators and reuploading them (when it was told to me, I was shown THIS thread as evidence). Another well known creator was accused by a former sims 4 cc creator (who now makes content from second life), and was called out in THIS post in 2019.

The horrible part of this? Many of these creators are charging people (often at not so great rates as well), for STOLEN content. Content they don’t even own, that they ripped from another place. This should not be accepted by a community that loves a game as much as the Sims 4 community. Truth: EA has provided a way for people to make money while not hiding content behind paywalls entirely, and the INTENT of this was to OFFSET COSTS. Almost every post about content locked behind paywalls features this post found on the Sims Forum from 2017. In it, SimGuruDrake, who was the community manager at the time (she has since left the Sims 4 team for another job). Most of you who have seen this discussion topic before know this post by heart, but I’d like to highlight one important aspect of it:

One thing that is always important about communication is the intent behind it. The intent for people to be allowed to make patreons and allow early access wasn’t so people could just make money for themselves, the idea was to offset costs to buy programs to make the content. For example, a yearly subscription to Adobe Creative Cloud (which has photoshop, illustrator, etc) costs a couple hundred dollars US a year. If someone was using photoshop to help them create their CC in addition to blender or other free programs, EA/Maxis wanted to allow the creator to not have to pay for making the CC out of pocket. Can EA/Maxis control what people spend the money they make off of patreon on? No. But it should be noted that the intent of this action was to help people pay for supplies for their hobby more than to make a business out of it.

Onto the next truth! Truth: There is an image that disputes this post above, however the authenticity of it and timing of it are very disputed.

This image is often thrown around by people who lock content behind paywalls, but I would like to take a second and try to provide an honest assessment of it. First of all, I have a bit of a problem with the fact that the original person who “messaged” SimGuruDrake this question has not been identified. This image was not posted on the tumblr of a CC creator who claimed “Hey I reached out to a sims guru and this is the answer I got!” The main pages that have this image are either tweets from CC creators using it to defend their stance on paywalls (ex: here), or tumblrs/tweets “debunking it” (ex: here, here). I even reverse image searched this image using google, and another platform and could not figure out where this originated from. Of course, I’m not an expert, but...still.

The fact that the origin of this picture is unknown casts doubt on it. If it were a well known CC maker who is known for being honest, that’s one thing. But the fact that we don’t exactly know where it came from is suspicious. Because frankly, anyone with some decent editing ability could photoshop this.

Here’s my imperfect edit, but I’m just a self-taught graphics nerd and I am not as dedicated at faking screenshots as some. (And the crap photo quality didn’t help.) Another common issue is that at the supposed “time” that this question was being asked, some state that SimsGuruDrake had already left the Sims 4 team. I will admit, this photo is within the correct timeline, as SimsGuruDrake did not officially depart the sims 4 team until February 2018. (There is a post on the sims forums that has a timestamp that confirms this.) But, if you were in the process of leaving your job within the next month (as a two week/30 day notice is common when leaving a job), would you REALLY be answering questions in DMs on twitter, or be focusing on packing up, and training your successor? The last thing that really makes me doubt the validity of this picture is the fact that it’s not really easy to message the sims gurus on Twitter. This appears to be twitter from the screenshot (although there are some things that are a little out of place from the current UI): But when I attempt to direct message a sims guru I get this message:

I even tried seeing if I could reach out via DM to Drake herself, (who now posts under a different twitter) to see if it was possible:

Could the policies have changed since 2018? Possibly, but I feel that opening up direct messages is just asking for Sims 4 team members to get angry messages, so this could very well be a long running EA policy. I have also reached out to her via a twitter tag (as of 1/2/21), and will update y’all if I get a reply:

Okay, so now that we’ve gone through all of this, let’s talk about the last truth that’s really important: Truth: Putting content behind paywalls has generally been considered disgusting by many in the sims 4 community, and TAKES AWAY the choice of people to support CC creators they love/appreciate WILLINGLY. A few notable posts sharing the disgust with this practice can be found: HERE, HERE, HERE, HERE, HERE, HERE, HERE & HERE). And these are just what I can find from a simple precursory search.

Okay, Brainiac. So what can we do to solve this problem?

Well, there’s a few methods we can employ, and sadly, it’s going to take a bit of a commitment and concentrated effort from the community.

Step #1: Make the COMMUNITY the VICTIM instead of EA.

Now when I say this, I don’t mean we’re actually victims, but mean that instead of constantly saying things like “WHEN YOU DO THIS YOU VIOLATE EA’S TOU!”, thus making EA the “victim” of the crime. We change the dialog to saying “When you lock stuff behind paywalls, you cheat the sims 4 community and disrespect their choice to support you or not.” Because let’s be honest. Maxis/EA really doesn’t give much of a care about if people aren’t following this rule. You can report people to the team, but as far as most people have seen, it doesn’t get anywhere. But if we make it where the community is the party being “wronged” it is much harder for those who have paywalls to not be scared. Because the community, in the end, has to be with them. DepthofPixels had a really amazing post about this HERE.

Step 2: Decide to not support anyone who puts their content behind exclusive paywalls and do not hesitate to spread the word about why you choose not to do so.

By that, I mean

not paying any patreon accounts that don’t offer either their content 100% for free, or offer early access.

And sharing about why you choose to do that on your social media. Something I might suggest would be to make it a bit personal and share something like:

Instead of spending $15 a month to get exclusive content from Leosims (or any other patreon/paywall creator here) I’m spending that $15 supporting creator x, creator y, and creator z, who don’t put their work behind paywalls!

Link their patrons, share why you like their content, and why you take the stance to make the community better. Make it a positive thing, praising the people who are doing RIGHT by the community.

Yes, you may not get their content for a while (although there are some different places (

) to find them *cough*. But in the end, is it worth supporting someone’s content when they’re treating the community badly?

Step 3: Report creators who actively steal content from IMVU/secondlife to those respective companies, and all others to EA. (Even though nothing may happen.)

Here’s the deal. When people steal from either of those sites, they are infringing on someone’s copyright, as well as Imvu/secondlife’s copyright as well. It’s not okay, and they should be held accountable for it. Here’s the LINK for submitting a ticket to Secondlife. I haven’t been able to find one for IMVU, but maybe someone else will find one. Let those companies know and allow them to handle those specific creators. As to the other creators, EA may not handle them at the moment. But IF (and this is a wishful thinking “if”) there were suddenly a flood of messages about certain creators...? I think they might have to pay attention to some of those messages. There is an official report form, but it might even be worth tweeting to SleddingGuruFrost, who is the current community manager asking about their stance on paywalls. And last but not least:

Step 4: Make sure that those who are doing the right thing and not putting their work behind paywalls feel appreciated. Show them some love via a tumblr ask, or by tagging them on twitter, or by going up a tier on their patreon (or pledging for the first time). Celebrate these heroes who are creating content and not forcing it on us.

Us asking for people to give us a choice to support them isn’t being greedy, or disrespecting their time. We just want transparency, and respect from those who create content for the game we love so much versus them treating us like we’re just a source of income. I know it might seem a bit hard to do this for some of you, and for some it may seem like I’m preaching to the choir, but we have to decide where we stand on this issue and stop letting those who abuse this system keep doing it. We can make a difference if we decide as a COMMUNITY to work together.

With commitment, ~Sunny

#sims4cc #sims4mm #maxismatch #sims4alpha #sims4cccommunity #paywallssuck #downwithpatreon #EA #maxis #TOS #thievessuck

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paper-n-ashes · 3 years

Text

New Endeavours

Characters: Modern AU!Kylo Ren x Female Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings/Tags: Explicit (18+), Sugar daddy relationship, sexual references but no actual smut, bisexual vibes, attending a strip club.

Author’s Note: This is all because of my love, @maryforyou. An AU venture she ignited and I couldn’t let go of. Read into this however you want, I’m an open book in terms of exploring sexuality without labels. Being the first AU I’ve ever attempted, I kept this as an intro, to hopefully dive into the more explicit content I’ve been ruminating on for too long as a Part 2 (depending on how this is received).

“Are you sure this what you want?”

You smiled sweetly, smoothing out the creases in your dress as Kylo handed you your coat and gloves. “Like I said every day this week, I’m very sure.”

He still appeared doubtful, plush lips twisted in a disbelieving frown. “I could give you anything your heart desires for your birthday, princess,” he urged, helping you to secure the top buttons of your waistcoat, his large frame shifting close to yours. “This barely seems like enough of a gift for such a special occasion.”

Kylo was used to showering you with physical symbols of his adoration in the 18 months you had known him. The man had more money than he knew what to do with, lavishing all types of jewellery and clothing on you, some of the pieces you were certain cost more than your tiny apartment in the outskirts of the city. Every time you tried to refuse the extravagant gifts, Kylo always replied with sweetened notions of needing to worship and adore the personified goddess he saw you as. And when spoken in his infuriatingly mesmerising tenor, they would quickly conquer your resistance.

You were acutely aware of what this looked like from an outside perspective. A wealthy older man courting a young woman over 10 years his junior. Bathing her head to toe in the finest attire, parading her around in places a woman of her standing wouldn’t have been able to afford in two lifetimes.

A label came with this kind of behaviour. One you didn’t particularly like, yet was still true.

Sugar daddy.

There wasn’t a way you could deny that’s how your association with Kylo begun.

You’d heard whispers of other girls at the college you went to doing it. Offering their bodies to the affluent men of this city. At first, you’d scoffed at the idea. But when that third overdue notice of your credit card debt came, with the threat of eviction hanging over your head, you didn’t really have much choice.

A name was given to you of a bar that specialised in these kinds of meetings, completely covertly of course. And there Kylo had found you, hiding away in a secluded corner, stirring the gin and tonic in front of you with a single finger. At first, you’d assumed he was a well-dressed bartender, seemingly too young and strikingly handsome to be in need of a place like this. So you smiled sweetly and told him you weren’t quite done with your drink.

Within such an innocent interaction, Kylo knew he had to have you. And he did, 45 minutes later in the poorly lit bathroom stall, half-dressed bodies clutched together as he had you perch on the porcelain sink, fucking you with an uncharacteristically reckless abandon.

He hadn’t intended to. He hadn’t been entirely sure what he anticipated from that evening, the recommendation being given to him from a higher executive who regularly partook in the questionable operations of this establishment. Kylo meant only to scope the place out, sit for a quiet solitary drink out of the way of other patrons. There, he’d discovered you.

Shrinking into your stool, somewhat inhibited, clearly out of your element. The shy smile that spread across your face after he murmured a stiff hello ensnared him in moments, simply for how sincere it was. He wasn’t used to that.

Another thing Kylo wasn’t used to was the type of electricity that followed in your conversation. Rarely had he experienced an exchange that was so charged yet… genuine. You didn’t appear expectant, didn’t care to know how much money he made or the status of his career. You simply wanted to talk.

It was interesting how this fuelled an urge to make you speechless, to have you resorting to whines and whimpers rather than articulate your thoughts with any words. He didn’t act on them. Content to bide his time, play his cards right, set a precedence of composure and restraint in the hope of securing another meeting. You, however, had never cultivated the same type of discipline Kylo had.

After too many long minutes of flirtatious banter, you leaned forward, mouthing in a hushed tone, asking him to meet you in the women’s bathroom.

The chance encounter had bound you for longer than predicted.

Although never explicitly stated, the two of you fulfilled a portion of each other’s needs. Kylo required adequate distraction from his corporate life, someone who could slip into his erratic schedule with ease to… relieve him of mounting tension. In return, he provided you the monetary means to live in the city of your dreams without constant fear of homelessness.

In the months that passed, your arrangement turned into something stable, secure. His presence a constant in your life. While his working hours were long and finishing times unpredictable, Kylo could always count on you to be summoned to him from a single text message. Be it in the middle of the day, or the early hours of morning, you would race to a place of his choosing. Sometimes at his lush apartment, sometimes his office, and a plethora of restaurant bathrooms across the city after particularly stressful business lunches.

Initially, your involvement was kept mostly out of public view. Kylo had wanted to protect you from the judgements and negative connotations that were unavoidable in the arena of his work. Around the year mark, these reservations about being seen with you seemed to dissipate. Soon you were linked hand in hand at countless high-class dinners and charity events. A poised and elegant couple, right until the last set of eyes moved away.

This is where you had your fun.

As spectacular as Kylo was at fucking you until you saw stars, he’d surprisingly gone this long in life without venturing into more creative territory when it came to satisfaction. His version of sex was fast and hard, needing as much as you as he could get, chasing release with no frills or diversion. He’d never had the time, or the right lover, to encourage any of his deeply hidden fantasies. Until you.

You were game for anything. Sexually adventurous. Ready and willing to try all there was on offer just to elicit the highest levels of ecstasy. It was difficult not to be at the thought of Kylo’s hands, his mouth, his tongue, any part of him.

Although a little more slowly, he began to welcome new experiences, new pursuits of pleasure. Witnessing your reactions to these efforts became somewhat of an addiction for him. The way you writhed and squealed when exploring anal play for the first time. The way you surrendered and adored his verbal degradation and physical strikes. The way your body twitched and spasmed after the use of a newly obtained toy purchased with his platinum credit card.

You never pushed him, or forced him into anything he found uncomfortable in the chase of a sexual high. Communication was paramount, and boundaries were respected.

Interestingly enough, tonight was a boundary he never thought you’d cross.

“This is what I asked for, remember?” you smiled, taking the opportunity to press a gentle kiss to his nose.

Kylo’s apprehension refused to dissipate, while still clutching you closer. “It just… seems like this is something I will enjoy more than you.”

You barely withheld the urge to roll your eyes. “You’re sure about that, are you?”

His eyebrows crinkled, thinking the question over. There was the hint of a smirk that tugged the corner of his mouth, a subtle excited quiver in the breath he exhaled. “So you’re not doing this for me?”

“Not at all,” you breathed. Your palm slipped under his clean-shaven jaw, skating a thumb reassuringly over his cheek. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”

“You have?”

You hummed a yes, drifting your lips intoxicatingly close to his, staring up with wide eyes.

Kylo’s mouth twisted slightly. “I wouldn’t want you to feel jealous, princess.”

“You’re only looking,” you insisted softly. “And, even if you touch a little…” You bit your lip at the thought. “Those women won’t be who gets to be taken home and fucked until it hurts.”

There was a noticeable tensing in the arms circled around you, as Kylo’s eyes began to burn with an impatient greed. “I could do that now, right against this door.”

It was difficult to deny how you’d happily allow him to make true on that statement. To slam you into the exquisitely carved oak door of his apartment and fill you to your absolute limit. However, the tantalising image of your planned evening was too consuming, heaving and tugging for you to indulge a deeply embedded desire you’d never been brave enough to pursue.

“Save it for when we get home,” you chirped, reaching for the doorhandle and dragging Kylo into the hallway.

“Follow me,” the maître D instructed, her voice cheerfully welcoming. Even the sight of her silken, green dress was intimidating, the fabric glossing over her nimble shape as she guided you up the set of stairs. The lighting was low, almost too dark to see properly, Kylo’s grip strong as your steps were drowned out by the sultry music emanating behind the double doors at the apex. As they were opened to you, the hypnotic baseline ricocheted around your body.

You scanned around the large room, bold lights illuminating a risen stage with two currently unused silver poles at either corner. Plush chairs circled around, occupied by a differing array of men. Slinking between the patrons were women decorated with luxurious, high-end lingerie, each one styled and set to provoke unyielding temptation.

This was a completely new undertaking for you. Attending a strip club. Usually a male endeavour, seeking out instant gratification in the form of scantily clad bodies and paid attention. You knew this was an unusual request for a birthday outing, yet in truth there was nothing from Kylo you wanted more.

The two reasons were somewhat opposing, although they would still feed the same goal. Satisfying a craving.

One being that you had always found women to be alluring and captivating to a height you’d never really accepted, almost been afraid of. Only with time and maturity had you learned your attraction to them was a natural occurrence you were now ready to explore.

The other reason was a little more scandalous, and what you hadn’t quite articulated to Kylo yet. To have the view of his eyes roaming another woman’s almost naked body as she exposed herself to him, drove you wild. In a situation you should feel jealousy, you were only devoured by an uncontainable lust.

Occasionally your mind had forayed into imaginations where he would take another like he’d taken you countless times, able to watch his hands clawing at supple breasts, the smooth motion of his hips, how his thick cock would split a tight, dripping cunt in two. All the while he would deride and goad you, layering you with taunts, desperate to inflame your envy and ownership.

Your plan for this particular evening didn’t extend that far. You only wished to enjoy the performance of mesmeric women in their most enchanting form, observe Kylo’s undeniable arousal at the same lithe, flexible bodies, and return home to remind him that only you could ignite the billowing flames of a violent release.

Oh, but that plan crumbled when you’d each settled into your seats, just in time for the next show of seduction. A pair of glittered, platform heels slinked near to the pole closest to you, your vision roaming upwards over the statuesque figure they connected to. Delicately laced, ivory fabric shielded her most intimate portions from full view, conforming flawlessly to the curves of her figure. Somehow demure yet indecently sensual.

Lips parted, your breath hitched as the exquisite woman twirled around, her eyes trained to you as she let a wicked smile appear. You were sure this was a regular occurrence, a flirtation she expressed to all the patrons in this room. Yet, as she began to move in time with the decadent beat of the music, her eyes stayed transfixed to you marvelling stare.

In an unprecedented display of courage, you beckoned Kylo closer to you, whispering to his ear. “Her. That’s what I really want for my birthday.”

*To be continued*

Let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in future works!

@tlcwrites @roanniom @maryforyou @mariesackler @sacklerscumrag @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @mylifeisactuallyamess @hopeamarsu @foxilayde @goddesstonythetiger @caillea @direnightshade @blackberries45

#kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #modern!kylo #cw:sugar daddy #cw: bisexual

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melanielocke · 3 years

Text

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter one

Lucie, Cordelia, Thomas and Alastair are spending the summer in a small town at the edge of a forest. Lucie hopes she can finally tell Cordelia how she really feels, while Thomas hopes to get to know Alastair a bit better. Alastair and Cordelia are glad to get some time away from their family and their parents separating. But something is not right in the forest. People are disappearing, and a creature warns Thomas that he is in danger, that a debt to a powerful being has not yet been repaid and they will need to combine all their abilities to stop what’s coming, and save Thomas.

CW: past toxic relationship, past abuse, mentions of alcoholism, PTSD It won't be super gory, but can be creepy

Tag list: @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @nott-the-best

Tagging @julywood because Thomas is one of the main characters

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32505550/chapters/80620474

‘Are you finished packing, Lulu?’

Lucie heard her father’s voice from behind the door of her bedroom, but she didn’t respond immediately. She was working on her story, and needed to finish this chapter so she could email it to Cordelia. She needed to concentrate, and that required blocking out all sounds coming from the outside world. The chapter had taken a bit longer than anticipated and the ghost of one of Cordelia’s dead boyfriends had somehow made its way into the chapter. Fictional Cordelia had had many boyfriends and all had died tragic deaths to make way for the next. She currently didn’t have a boyfriend and Lucie wasn’t planning another one yet. The real Cordelia had only dated her brother James for a while a year ago. Lucie didn’t think she wanted real Cordelia to have a boyfriend either.

The door opened and her father peeked inside. ‘You haven’t started packing at all, have you?’

‘I need to finish my chapter for Cordelia,’ Lucie insisted. ‘She will be stuck in a very long car ride with only Alastair for company and she needs something to occupy herself with.’

Lucie would be staying the summer with her parents in her grandmother’s manor, whereas her grandmother would be traveling to southern Italy with a couple of friends. While Lucie was usually excited about spending her summer there, she had feared it would be lonely considering her brother James wouldn’t be coming this year. He’d graduated school and he and his best friend Matthew were going to travel across the continent by themselves. She’d feared she’d be alone all summer, but then Thomas, her closest friend besides Cordelia, had convinced his parents to travel to the same town this summer, renting a cottage nearby her grandmother’s house.

‘Alright, I’ll pack for you,’ her father said. ‘But if you find your swimsuit or your sparrow plush toy is missing, then I will not be held responsible.’

‘Jack is coming,’ Lucie insisted, referring to her sparrow plush toy she’d once named after Jack Sparrow, and she put her laptop away to put her plush toy in her bag.

After a short moment of contemplation she put her new pink bikini and an older black and red striped one piece in there too. There was a lake close to grandmother’s manor and Lucie expected she’d go swimming regularly. She returned to her laptop, and tried to think of a good ending for the chapter. She didn’t like to end everything in a cliffhanger, but the story needed to remain intriguing.

‘No clothes? Underwear?’ her father asked.

Lucie considered just bringing everything suitable for the summer but realized they didn’t have that much space in the car. So instead she opened her closet, picked out some tops, skirts, dresses and jumpsuits and put them into her bag. She would probably regret leaving something behind later on but there was no time. Just to be sure, she went over the closet again and added a couple more dresses. She couldn’t leave her new yellow wrap dress behind, she’d sent Cordelia a picture of her wearing it a couple of weeks ago after she’d bought it and Cordelia had commented that she looked gorgeous. Lucie suspected it was just Cordelia being nice but the comment had still made her heart run wild.

She added enough underwear to last her several weeks and then went back to adding clothes at random until the bags were full.

‘Done,’ she announced, and she went back to her laptop, finishing her chapter.

Adding in a ghost was a difficult choice, but Lucie had decided fictional ghosts behaved similarly to real ghosts. Lucie had never seen a ghost of a dead boyfriend though. She hadn’t seen Jesse Blackthorn even once since he’d died four years ago.

When the chapter was finished, she emailed it to Cordelia, hoping she would receive it before she and her brother left home. Cordelia had almost not been allowed to come stay with her family this summer, her father tended to be strict and wanted to keep Cordelia at home. There had been some trouble lately at the Carstairs home though, and Cordelia’s mother had decided it would be good for her to go spend time with Lucie. Cordelia’s brother Alastair had decided to come with her, although Lucie wasn’t sure why. Either way, Lucie had decided she and Cordelia were going to have the greatest summer ever.

***

Thomas hadn’t been this excited about going on a vacation with his parents in a while. The small town where they’d be staying sounded boring, and certainly wasn’t the location most boys his age wanted to spend the summer, but then Thomas wasn’t interested in drinking and partying all night and would much rather explore forests and go swimming in lakes with Lucie Herondale. That wasn’t the main reason he was excited though. A week ago, Lucie had confirmed her close friend Cordelia Carstairs would be staying the summer with her, and a couple of days later Lucie had informed him Cordelia’s brother Alastair would be coming as well.

Thomas had gone to school with Alastair for a year, Alastair a year ahead of him, and at the time Alastair had been rather awful, especially to Thomas’ friends James and Matthew. To be fair, Alastair’s jokes about Matthew behaving like his mother were funny. Matthew did behave like his mother, always coming to collect him when he’d spent too much time around Alastair. Why he’d fallen in love with Alastair anyway, he wasn’t sure. He’d been intrigued by the mystery, he guessed, Alastair’s sad eyes and vicious tongue.

But after that year, Alastair had changed schools, and had gone to school with Lucie and Cordelia instead and he’d heard much from Lucie about him. Alastair had defended Lucie from bullies had kept to himself and created this image of someone who was untouchable, no longer a bully, but he would destroy you if you even considered hurting his sister or her friend Lucie. Thomas was once more intrigued. While James and Matthew were still angry, Thomas had decided he must have changed and he was thankful Alastair had protected Lucie, heaven knew that girl knew how to get herself into trouble.

Thomas checked his phone for the millionth time. He was done packing, but his parents were not. Lucie hadn’t send any new texts and Thomas suspected she needed to pack or finish the latest chapter of her novel before her parents left. She’d listed some ideas that might help him spend more time alone with Alastair, although Thomas was not yet sure if he wanted that. He wasn’t out to anyone but Lucie yet, and although he intended to tell his parents, he wasn’t yet sure how. He wasn’t yet sure he was ready for a relationship, and although he liked Alastair, he was also a bit intimidated by him.

Barbara had sent a message, and Thomas opened it. It was a picture of her and Oliver in front of the Eiffel Tower. Barbara and her boyfriend Oliver had gone to Paris to celebrate their two year anniversary and to celebrate Barbara graduating as a nurse.

Thomas texted a response and put his phone in his bag and walked outside, checking to see if his parents needed any help. A couple of gnomes were running around the garden. Thomas didn’t mind them, they took good care of the garden, and were far from dangerous, but they could get up to mischief. He’d learned that whenever cookies, forks or socks went missing, it was usually the garden gnomes. They lived in forests sometimes, but also liked to build their homes in human gardens. Of course, most humans had no idea they were there, but Thomas could see all sorts of strange creatures. Most were harmless, so Thomas never minded much. He didn’t seek out the supernatural, but he didn’t mind its presence.

Both his mother and Barbara had the same gift, and although Eugenia didn’t she had learnt to see the gnomes. Thomas had found out everyone could learn to see the supernatural if they knew what to look for and knew it was out there. Most people didn’t believe so they didn’t see, but Eugenia had grown up with a mother and siblings who saw everything whether they wanted to or not. She had always known what was out there.

Eugenia and her friend Kamala would be spending the summer in India this year, they’d saved up for months for their big trip. Thomas suspected they might be more than just friends but so far Eugenia had not confirmed this.

‘We’re almost done,’ his mother promised, handing him a plate of cookies. ‘Give some to the gnomes, will you? To show them our thanks for taking care of the garden.’

Thomas went into the backyard where even more gnomes had gathered. It was difficult to imagine most people could look at this scene and see nothing out of the ordinary, when several gnomes were running around, holding something shiny in their hands.

‘The car keys,’ Thomas groaned out loud and he put the plate of cookies on the ground.

‘You can have these, but please give me the keys back,’ he said.

The gnomes said something, but Thomas didn’t understand their language, and then attacked the plate of cookies, dropping the car keys in the process. Thomas picked them up before the gnomes realized anything, and picked up the plate as soon as it was empty. Gnomes could be monsters when it came to cookies and they didn’t have table manners, they just attacked any food they saw. Thomas couldn’t blame them.

Thomas quickly washed the plate and put it back with the others before joining his parents again, who were finally finished with everything.

‘Feeding the gnomes again, Sophie?’ his father asked. ‘Are you sure that many cookies are healthy for them?’

His mother shrugged. ‘They’re gnomes, Gideon. Who knows what’s healthy for them?’

His father couldn’t argue with that logic. Thomas wondered if there would be gnomes too at the cottage where they would be staying, or if other creatures would show themselves. Thomas had learned that if there was a myth or any kind of story depicting it, it probably existed somewhere, but most such beings were very rare and so far Thomas had mostly encountered gnomes.

Checking the car one last time to see if they had everything, Thomas got into the passenger seat next to his mother who would be driving, his father behind. Thomas had gotten too tall to fit in the backseat of this car and sitting there for a long drive would be unnecessarily painful. Besides, Thomas was better at reading maps than his father, and if they got lost they would depend on him to find the way.

As they drove, Thomas couldn’t help but think of Alastair Carstairs. Why had he decided to join the Herondales? Thomas didn’t think he was particularly close to Lucie, although he knew Will Herondale had a weak spot for anything that carried the name Carstairs. He wasn’t surprised the Herondales had invited him along. Could he be thinking of Thomas? And would Lucie’s plans to get them to spend time together help, or only make everything worse?

***

‘I cannot get this bag to close,’ Cordelia complained.

‘Perhaps that’s because there’s a limit to how much fits in there,’ Alastair said without looking up.

He was finished packing, of course. Cordelia, on the other hand, had decided she had not yet enough clothes packed and with some suggestions from her mother and aunt Risa had tried to add more.

‘Don’t you have another bag for me?’ Cordelia asked, annoyed.

She loved Alastair, but sharing a room with him was a bit too much and they’d gotten on each other’s nerves. They were currently staying with their aunt Risa, their mother too, but Risa’s apartment was a bit small for all of them. It was a temporary situation and Cordelia hoped that after the summer she and Alastair didn’t have to share a room anymore. At least in the Herondale manor, there were plenty of rooms and Cordelia intended to get one as far away from her brother as possible. Alastair tended to be neat, and his half of the room was always perfectly in order, whereas Cordelia was a bit messier, and both were irritated with the other.

‘You can check if any of my bags have some space left. Or you can leave the bag opened and put it in the car like this and hope it doesn’t end with clothes littered everywhere.’

Cordelia went to the building’s parking garage and to the car and put the bag there, half open, making sure nothing fell out. No one but the two of them would be fitting in there with how much Alastair had packed. Cordelia couldn’t imagine he’d need all that, but she knew better than to attempt to convince her brother he could leave something behind.

Back inside, she saw Alastair sitting on his bed, vaguely staring into the distance as if he was daydreaming.

‘Alastair, stop doing that,’ Cordelia said.

Calling his name usually brought him out even when his senses were closed off from the world around him. Alastair had an ability that Cordelia best described as him being Harry Potter’s pensieve. He could revisit his own memories, and if they allowed it, other people’s memories as well, as well as bring people with him into memories. Alastair tended to stay out of other people’s memories, but could get lost in his own. Outside their family, no one knew about it and Alastair preferred to keep it that way.

The Carstairs family had always been aware of the supernatural, of course. Once their father Elias had carried the magic sword cortana and fought evil creatures with it. That had been a long time ago though, and Cordelia owned cortana now, but she had never used it to fight anything beyond straw men in the backyard. She didn’t have any abilities though, not beyond her connection the sword, nothing like Alastair’s odd memory. Neither of them understood why he was that way.

‘Were you revisiting your break up again?’ Cordelia asked then.

She knew he’d been revisiting that memory over and over lately, although she didn’t understand why. It couldn’t possibly make him feel better, could it? Of course, Alastair wasn’t exactly known for making the healthiest choices when it came to coping.

‘Charles has been texting me,’ Alastair said, his face blank. ‘I made sure that when I broke up with him, I was very clear about not wanting him to contact me. I wanted to see if there was anything I said that might have made my meaning unclear, any invitation for him to keep texting me.’

‘I don’t think Charles has ever listened to a thing you said,’ Cordelia said. ‘That’s his problem, not yours. Have you blocked his number yet?’

Alastair didn’t say anything.

‘You can block him,’ Cordelia insisted. ‘And you should. It’s creepy how he keeps texting you.’

As far as Cordelia was concerned, Charles had been creepy long before that, ever since he began a relationship with her brother despite Alastair only being sixteen at the time when Charles was six years older than him. Charles must have known how wrong and creepy that was, even if Alastair hadn’t.

Alastair hadn’t told anyone about his relationship, not ready to come out yet, which must have been convenient to Charles. Cordelia had only found out four months ago when she’d started to worry about Alastair, how he’d seemed more nervous and prickly than usual, how he’d lost weight from not eating. Reluctantly, Alastair had told her about his relationship, and Cordelia had been horrified to learn just how much abuse he’d accepted, believing that was how relationships worked. After a month of Cordelia trying to convince him of how toxic Charles was, Alastair had broken up with him. She’d been very protective of him ever since finding out, and was glad he’d decided to come stay with the Herondales with her this summer. Some time away from everything would be good for him, right?

Then Cordelia had found out Alastair had been keeping even more secrets from her, this one surrounding their father. Cordelia had always loved her father and looked up to him, a former warrior who’d slain the supernatural horror that had taken his brother and sister in law, a former hero who’d fallen ill in later life. A while ago their cousin Jem, who was a psychiatrist, had visited, despite their father trying to keep him away from their family, and he’d noticed Alastair was not doing well after an anger outburst. Cordelia and her mother had always assumed Alastair’s moodiness and anger outbursts were just him being a difficult teenager, although at eighteen he was getting a bit old for that. Jem, familiar with mental disorders, had recognized symptoms of something more.

He had recommended Alastair see a therapist. After some pressure from both her and Jem, Alastair had gone and he’d been diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder. Cordelia had found out father was not sick, but addicted to alcohol instead. Alastair had spent years protecting her from the effects, attempting to take care of father while he was drunk so she have the illusion of a normal childhood. Now that she knew, she guessed she understood a bit better why Alastair had thought what Charles had offered was love.

‘I guess I can block him,’ Alastair said.

‘I’m serious,’ Cordelia insisted. ‘You have to stop revisiting bad memories, you’ll only get hurt again. I don’t like seeing you hurt.’

Alastair took his phone out his pocket, presumably blocked Charles’ number, and put it back.

‘Are you ready to go, Layla?’ he asked.

When Cordelia was young, she’d loved the story of Layla and Majnun her mother used to tell her, and Alastair and her mother had taken to calling her Layla.

‘Ready when you are,’ Cordelia said. ‘Lucie just emailed me the latest chapter of the beautiful Cordelia. I’ll have plenty to do on the way.’

#Alastair Carstairs #Thomas Lightwood #Cordelia Carstairs #Lucie Herondale #Lucelia #Thomastair #tlh #the last hours #fic #fanfiction #paranormal au

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imagine-loki · 3 years

Text

Not as it Seams

TITLE: Not as it Seams

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One-Shot

AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki using a seams ripper to play a prank on Thor

RATING: General Audience

Elena loved her job tending to the fashion needs of the Aesir royal family. She loved assisting Queen Frigga in designing grand dresses, working on Thor and Odin’s clothes to get their attire to work with their armour, but Prince Loki was the most fun to work with. He had impeccable style and taste and appreciated the work of the palace tailors. He often came in discussing what he needed and spoke with them rather than merely telling them what he wanted and expecting it done.

“What is that device?” Loki was looking at the small item in her hands.

“This?” She held it up causing Loki to nod. “A seam ripper which does exactly what it’s named and rips seams.”

Loki’s eyes lit up at the explanation of the device. “Interesting.” For the rest of the time he stood waiting for his cloak to be sized correctly, he remained silent but looking at the instrument on the table close by.

When he was finished, Elena was entirely unsurprised when he walked over to it once more. “I wonder if I could borrow this for a short time?” Knowing better than to decline such a request for a item worth so little, Elena walked over to her desk and pulled out another one. “Perhaps you would like it better in green?”She held it out for him. “They are inexpensive so don’t fret returning it.” She was half saying it because it was true, half because she feared what he would do with it and she did not want to get blamed if it could be linked back to her.

With a deep chuckle, he took the seam ripper and left the room.

Elena had practically forgotten about the seam ripper Loki had procured from her when the reason for him acquiring it came to the fore.

Loki had been on Vanaheim for a solid four weeks when Thor burst into the tailors’ rooms looking red-faced and bewildered. “What has happened my clothes?”

Elena and a few of the others that worked there looked at him worriedly before noticing parts of his clothes seemed to be coming apart...at the seams. With raised brows and a look to match her workmates, though a deeper understanding as to what was happening, Elena walked forward to look at the attire. “Your seams seem to have fallen apart, Your Highness.” “How? Is it seidr? I bet it is, I wager Loki is to blame.” Thor snarled angrily, not admitting to them that this became embarrassing because he had been attempting to talk a maiden of the court to go to his rooms with him and she had laughed as he flexed only for the side his attire to fall open.

She studied the clothes closely and shook her head. “No, the thread is snapped in a few places.” She pulled out some of the thread for him to see. “There is no foul play afoot, as you can see, it is simply pulled apart, nothing more. I would assume seidr would fizzle it to nothing or snap it cleanly. This is just frazzled. I think I recall this clothing, it is quite old at this stage, it looks like it has had a few adventures too.” She indicated to the few areas that needed patching previously. “I would wager in moments of playful sparring with your comrades, you have pulled it harshly from you and discarded it to the nearest surface, with your muscle growth since this was made, I am sure that has pulled on it so.” She smiled.

Loving that his ego was being stroked by the implications of her words, Thor moved his head side to side slightly in agreement. “Well, it has been some time and you know, clothes are not meant to last forever, I suppose. I better leave it so.” He pulled it from himself and gave it to Elena who nodded back at him. “I will require new garments, are you the one that usually does such?”

“Not for yourself, Your Highness, that tends to be Lady Geraldine,” Elena explained, unsure how the prince would not notice the Light Elf that made his clothes from the Vanir and Aesir that also worked in the rooms.

“Is she here?” “No, Your Highness. It is her day off.” Thor swore. “You start them, then.” Unhappy at threading on Geraldine’s work but knowing she could not decline a direct order from Prince Thor, Elena took his current measurements and started her work.

Thor was nothing like Loki, he did not assist in any manner. Loki seemed to know where she needed him to place his arms and when she did the inseam of Thor, he seemed to think she had different thoughts with her hands there. “Perhaps you rather go somewhere more private with that?” Elena rolled her eyes internally at his stupid remark. “I will say to you as I say to every man that makes that joke, regardless of where you want me to do this, it needs to be done and I am not interested in wasting time. I can do it correctly now or guestimate it if you make me wait but that results in incredibly tight groin areas that tears easily at best or damage your, Crown Jewels when not done correctly.” Thor winced at her reference. “I am just doing my job, so please let me do it.” Feeling embarrassed by her admonishment and nauseated at the image she had put in his head about tight pants harming him, Thor said nothing after that. She moved his limbs as she needed them and took notes. Walking over to Geraldine’s table, she took her notes for Thor and checked them against her own.

“Your last had your measurements done with Geraldine eighteen months ago, your numbers are mostly similar, your neck has increased somewhat, metaphorically and physically.” She added the last three words quietly, though not so quietly as for others to not hear causing the other tailors and seamstresses to chuckle. “I will add these to her notes and begin the basics as per the instructions she has here. She will do the more intricate work when she returns to work. She is off for a few days, you should have them ready to try within the week.”

“So long?” Elena wondered what level of service Geraldine was being forced to work at. “That is standard practice outside of emergencies, Your Highness.”

“What are emergencies with clothes?” Thor asked.

Elena merely held up his destroyed clothes he no longer could wear as an answer.

“What will I wear back to my rooms?” Renée, a seamstress, brought over a riding cloak for him. “If I may, Your Highness.” Thor studied it and put it on. “This is for someone more slight of frame than I.” “It is Prince Loki’s,” Elena explained. “It was in for repair but with him being off-realm for so long, he has not collected it yet.”

Remembering that Loki was gone and certain he had worn the clothing since Loki’s departure, Thor grumbled and mentioned something about having them brought to his rooms when it was done before walking out of the tailor’s rooms.

Elena looked at the other tailors and seamstresses present before shaking her head and sighing. “I guess I better get started on this, then. Renée, could you get me…” She looked at Geraldine’s notes to see what fabrics Thor preferred and gave the seamstress her instructions.

Loki walked into the room with a smirk on his face. He had waited three weeks after court began to gossip about his brother’s clothes seemingly fell apart where he stood speaking to a lady of the court.

Elena, who had been working on a clasp of a coat that Loki’s hand servant had sent to be repaired before Loki’s return, turned on the sight of black and green leather in the tailor’s rooms. She noted Loki walk past her desk and inconspicuously drop the green seam cutter as he passed without breaking stride. “Your Highness.” “I have to have a few new pieces commissioned.” He declared. “When are you free to take my fresh measurements?” “I can fit You Highness in now if that would please you?” “Excellent.” He used his seidr to alter his travelling clothes to something more comfortable and stood as he knew Elena liked him to do to start his measurements. “Have I missed much in the world of tailoring in my absence? I hear my brother had the palace all a din.” “Apparently, Prince Thor was over eager with his attire and tore his seam in a manner that relieved his clothing from its duty of concealing his torso.” She responded, barely able to conceal her grin as Loki embraced his own laughter. She took the measurements of his inseam and around his thigh as he stood still, with him ensuring she had enough room to do so. “He also was of the impression that my current actions are somewhat sexually based.”

Loki stared at the tailor in startled shock. “Norns, I am not sure if it is ego or stupidity or even both with that fool.” He chuckled to himself. “I am sure you set him straight.” He moved so she could check both thighs were equal in size.

“But, of course.” She rose to write the measurements, Loki checking on her notepad to see how he had altered in the few weeks away. “The usual?”

“Please.”

She nodded and while he was close to her, she whispered in his ear. “Next time, try the groin of his pants where it attaches the front and back. It will either rip as he bends down to show his rear end or when he sits and tears to reveal his less than attractive underwear." Loki's eyes widened at the idea.

After doing all that needed doing, Loki went to leave again bidding Elena farewell as he did.

When Elena went to put her notebook back on her desk, there was no sign of the green seams ripper on her desk causing her to laugh slightly to herself as she shook her head.

#Loki #god of mischief #submission #Submitted one shot #wolfpawn #not as it seams

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shadowofthelamp · 4 years

Text

Okay, I’m still on this. Building on this post, having Scourge genuinely want Sonic to join him is just a really, really interesting narrative choice, and I want to figure out where it came from. There’s a TL;DR at the end since it got a bit long.

Is it on some level that he thinks heroism is naïve and he just thinks Sonic can do better? Yeah, I think that’s part of it. It comes up both when he’s trying to convince Sonic in 191 and after he thinks he’s won in 196 when he goes Super. Between “What does heroism get you?” in the page below and “See what that (holier-than-thou attitude) got you?!” in the linked page this very much informs his worldview. Heroism leading to bad outcomes both for the people being heros and the world in general (in his eyes) means that heroic actions (and the attitude, thinking heroism is better than selfishness) must be bad as well.

“I got that my way, not yours. Folks smile and wave you you? Everyone bows to me!” He doesn’t want everyone genuinely liking him as a person, not that he’d admit anyway- he wants worship, for people to look up at him instead of across the aisle. He 100% rules the Suppression Squad via fear and is perfectly comfortable with it until it blows up in his face. He’s rather keep himself up and out of reach from connections that could hurt him if he opens himself up to them, because he doesn’t truly respect his crew and mostly uses them to inflate his own ego via that bowing/submisson thing.

Obviously the hesitation in that middle panel there is more for the benefit of the audience suspense for the next comic than anything since Sonic would never go for this and he directly states so in the next issue, (and I don’t think it’s really ‘him not wanting to admit it to himself’). Sonic’s expression in the first panel definitely is a ‘are you serious?’ sort of thing, but Scourge sure seems serious about this, considering he brought it up again after going Super, lamenting that Sonic didn’t take what he sees as the smart option. Plus, he’s pissed right here that Metal interrupted.

He tries to posture himself above Sonic in the page below- the first panel there is referring to the fact that he calls himself a King now. He WANTS to be more than Sonic, so he takes an honestly pretty childish tact to it- he just kicks everybody else down to make himself king of the hill, and then KEEPS kicking them down because he’s never going to get their genuine respect, so he has to keep stomping to keep them below him. .

I think part of the angle here? Scourge, although he’d never consciously admit it, genuinely admires Sonic and wants what he has- respect and affection earned through good character and not fear.

I admittedly don’t know the pre-Ian issues as well, but he repeatedly kept popping up in Prime to pretend he was Sonic. He likes Sonic’s life better- and why wouldn’t he? The Squad has no care for each other. Miles is plotting to usurp him at basically all times, it seems. Patch and Boomer seem to like the new direction/power he brought them as the leader, but they also were willing to turn on him as soon as Miles suggested it. Moebius is generally peaceful, so he never deals with anything interesting, and he’s got an empire of dirt even when he did conquer the planet, from all the infighting after the Great Peace fell apart. Fiona said that he just ‘beat up a few warlords’- he can tell himself he’s king all he wants, but he’s just a kid playing pretend and kicking away anybody who can/would dispel that illusion.

I don’t doubt that just knowing he’s a ‘reverse’ version of someone else grated on him- it’s a heck of an identity crisis, which is probably why he was so eager to accept his recolor and picked a new name almost immediately. He wants to differentiate himself- and forced the Squad to all go along with it. He’s over the top to the Nth degree to prove to HIMSELF that’s he’s the biggest, baddest cat in town. This is something that bugged him a lot.

On top of that, Sonic beat him- he brushed it off, and he could blame Locke for one of them, but generally, toe-to-toe, Sonic’s a better fighter since he just has more practice, and that’s something he does reluctantly admire. He thinks Sonic’s ‘full of untapped potential’- something he can use for himself, sure, but it’s untapped in his opinion specifically, because he thinks on the surface Sonic is just going about things all wrong with the power he has.

Deep-down, he’s unsure of himself. He’s so egotistical and assholish on the surface because it covers that he’s overcompensating for the fact that pretty much every relationship he has is shallow, selfish, and liable to stab him in the back- and he knows it. If he pretends that’s how he wants things, maybe he can make himself (and everyone watching) believe it.

That’s why he cared enough about Sonic joining him. He wants Sonic to validate the choices he made. Sonic’s one of the only people whose opinion he genuinely cares about, even though it’s under a good few layers of jerkishness, because Sonic is a version of him that has a harder life but is much more successful. He can deny it all he wants, but he wants people to respect him, and all he can do is try to get a facsimile of that by busting heads together and ruling by fear, because anything too introspective leads him to things he doesn’t want to confront about himself- that he is weaker both in character and in battle, and a coward and a bully.

When Sonic turns him down he just brushes it off with ‘your loss’ and a big grin, (while holding Fiona tighter, as if to say ‘look what I have and you don’t’), but then he brings it back when he’s got the upper hand- if he was just rubbing in that Sonic could have avoided a beating, I feel like he would have phrased things differently. Resposting this image, ‘What IS IT with you?’ and ‘We could have done this together, but no! You decided to go the holier-than-thou route!’ says to me that he’s A: Genuinely offended, so the idea of them teaming up had come up in his head before now and wasn’t just thrown out on a whim, and B: He thinks that Sonic thinks that he’s better than him. (Which he does, because... well, he is.)

Scourge came back to Mobius to prove himself against Sonic, but even though he absolutely has the upper hand here, he knows something isn’t right- he doesn’t feel as satisfied as he should. He can’t figure out exactly what he wanted, and is taking it out on Sonic. He’s defensive and aggressive at the same time here- why would he care if Sonic thought himself better than him when he’s already declared that he’s the ‘superior’ of the two? Only his own opinion should matter if he just wants worship, shouldn’t it?

But he doesn’t just want blind worship. He thinks that he does, because that means he doesn’t have to get vulnerable, but he wants someone on his level.- he wanted them to rule the multiverse together. Fiona is decent enough- he does genuinely seem to like her and although their relationship was probably destined to fall apart at some point, for now she was a decent towel stuffed into the wound for that particular problem of ‘not having anyone to care about/to care about him’. However, he wants Sonic- his approval or his defeat, specifically. He wants Sonic either as a partner in crime or as a trophy- either way, he ‘wins’ and proves that his way of kicking his way to the top was the valid, right choice. Sonic is the true version of himself and the opponent he cares most about facing, and his approval means Scourge would win for real. Not getting that wedges a crack in his insecurities.

In his life, heroism had only ever led to problems. It led his dad to neglect him in service of trying to chase peace for everyone else, it led the world to crumble to pieces when that peace failed, and he learned violence was the only thing that got him attention, even though it was negative from everyone outside the Squad. So Sonic embodying that heroism ideal, and then beating him? It throws everything he thinks into question, and he wants to prove that he’s right so he doesn’t have to question it.

He’s starving for positive interactions from people he respects since they’re so few and far between. He spent time thinking about a comment Sonic made during a previous fight, and then conquered the planet trying to chase the spirit of it even though he got it twisted to the point of unrecognizability.

Scourge wants to be able to just mill his own confidence- to say he’s a badass and then believe it. And on some level, he can! But that’s flimsy and he requires some manner of outside support he has no real way of getting, and feeling like he’s being looked down on by Sonic hurts him more than he’d admit.

So, TL;DR: Scourge wants Sonic to validate him and his (bad) worldview, and gets pissy when that doesn’t happen, because he unconsciously respects Sonic more than he’d admit and not getting that means he has to think about how he’s actually messed up in the past. He wants equals because shallow worship borne from fear isn’t a replacement for genuine affection, but he hasn’t matured enough to realize that’s what he actually wants/needs.

#scourge the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #archie sonic #archie #sonic blogging #king douche #shadow says stuff

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inb4belphienaps · 4 years

Text

boundaries

<pt. 2> warnings: fluff i think word count: 1525

belphie listens to your retreating footsteps, back still leaning against the metal as he tries to picture how you look. from your voice alone, he thinks you probably have a kind face. the approachable kind at least.

your eyes, well, with a hint of mischief as he's gathered from the stories you tell him. getting dragged into (and sometimes instigating) his brothers' antics suggested that you didn't take yourself too seriously.

and then he remembers your laugh. what he'd thought he'd find irritating is instead confusing. the instinct to ignore it grows ever weaker with each visit. he even finds himself smiling at the sound now. your amusement in itself could apparently be...amusing.

but that wasn't all.

there's a tightness in his chest when you leave. the walls of the attic close in on him ever so slightly and he's suddenly reminded of his current predicament.

he was essentially a prisoner here. how thoughtful of lucifer to have made one of his favorite napping places the very bane of his existence. he'd long gone past the stage of finding comfort in the familiarity of the floor-length drapes and antique lights.

they did little to dispel the loneliness.

eventually, he gets up from the floor and with that one motion, he begins to formulate a plan. a plan that would hopefully serve as a solution to his misery.

a plan he sets into motion the next time you come up those stairs.

he's counting the number of conjured arrows he can aim at the center of a painting (some relic from the celestial realm, he reasons with disdain) when you interrupt him, causing all the arrows to dematerialize in a puff of violet-tinted smoke.

"hey, i brought some reading with me today. hope you don't mind."

the smoke shifts in the air at your arrival, as if a gust of wind had come through the room.

"what's it for?"

papers shuffle. he hears you take a seat and slides off the bed. he walks up to the wrought iron gate, wishing you'd just move and sit in front of it so he can see you. at first, he'd thought you were shy. after your second encounter, he'd realized you were just being cautious. and for that, perhaps you weren't entirely stupid.

"seductive speechcraft."

oh the irony.

"an assignment?"

you hum in confirmation. he listens to the scratch of your pen, watching your elbow move. diligent, weren't you?

"maybe i can help you."

you scoff. he raises a brow.

"no thank you. don't think i don't know how you are with words."

oh? that was interesting. the two of you never really did talk about what you thought of one another. there's no time like the present then.

"what's that supposed to mean?"

"the way i see it, you're far too confident. and maybe that works in your favor", you say between flipping pages and scribbling notes.

oh...how adorable.

"don't you trust me?"

a huff. he sees your shoulder slump and wishes he could gauge your expression. were you genuinely upset at his question or at the notion itself?

"i mean...you haven't exactly given me a reason not to."

yes. like you'd implied, he'd made sure of it. not only so you could continue to help him but also, so you would keep coming back. he'd been the one to break the ice and tell you stories. and he'd made you feel comfortable enough to do the same.

"and?"

you stop writing. the corner of his lips quirks upwards. the moment you'd decided to disregard lucifer's warning and find him, had it simply been curiosity?

"i don't know. you won't...try anything, will you? hurt me or something, i mean."

he feels a pang of guilt. at another point in time, he probably would have. he curls his fingers around a crest-shaped notch in the gate and rests his forehead against the back of his palm, figuring it best to be honest.

"i won't. not anymore, anyway."

you visibly stiffen. he sighs inwardly.

"so it crossed your mind."

"it's complicated. try not to take it personally."

truly, it was. if he wanted to explain it all to you, he'd have to recall memories that were still too painful to re-live, even (or especially) in his dreams.

"well that doesn't make it any easier."

the wheels in his head spin as he tries to figure out a way to convey his emotions without setting himself off. keep it vague.

"before this", he gestures, hoping that it comes across in his tone (after all, he wasn't just referring to your sole influence). "i didn't have the highest opinion of humans."

you remain quiet.

"i basically blamed them for us falling, among other things."

the fires of his rage had subsided to embers. in his isolation, he'd had months to come to terms with his prejudice. during the initial turmoil, amidst the anguish that plagued him, he'd had to learn to separate himself from the emotions. to view the events as merely events.

it'd been (and still was) a bitter pill to swallow. that it hadn't been the man's fault his sister had fallen in love with him. that it was only out of that same love that she'd committed sacrilege. that...he'd needed someone to pin it on in the end.

"i realize that that hatred was misplaced."

hatred, he'd said. you sit in silence in an attempt to give the both of you a second or two to think.

he's nervous. what could you be thinking of him following such a confession? he lifts his head to see your elbow tucked in at your waist. were you resting your hand under your chin? were you...scared of him?

"i should hurry along with those pacts, huh?"

his eyes widen. and he laughs under his breath.

"there's no rush. not really."

you sigh.

"aren't you lonely? beel misses you, you know."

before he can make sense of the new thoughts attempting to de-rail his train of thought, he's answering you.

"it's not so bad with you here."

you chuckle. it's like a weight is lifted when you do. this sort of apprehension he felt around you, although uncomfortable, wasn't entirely unwelcome.

"charming, aren't you?"

and you turn your head slightly. he eyes the ends of your hair, how they catch the dull glow of the lamps in the attic. he wants to see you.

"do me a favor?"

"hm?"

"come into the light."

another laugh, this one more amused than the last.

"curious? to see the face of your savior?", you ask, a sarcastic confidence coloring your words.

"yes. that and i'll show you a trick if you do."

you drop your pen to the side, letting it roll across the top of your notebook. you want to see him up close too. the painting in the hallway had made him out to be rather sad. a part of you wanted to dispel that image for good.

"promise?"

"i promise."

he isn't aware that he's holding his breath until he meets your eyes and comes face-to-face with an expression that stirs up a feeling he'd almost forgotten.

attraction. how foreign it feels and yet how befitting it is of the situation.

"um, hi, i guess."

the awkward smile on your lips has his stomach twisting.

"hi."

fuck, i wish we'd done this earlier, he thinks.

"it better be a damn good trick you're going to show me."

how much more pleasantly that sentence flows as he's looking at you, taking in the curve of your mouth and the flush of your cheeks. he figures he shouldn't stare but then again, this 'trick' didn't require a lot of focus.

you watch as he stretches his closed fist out through a gap in the gate. you wonder for a moment, whether he's going to ask for your hand.

as he mutters an incantation, you gasp. swirls of purple and magenta snake around his fingers, and a pulse of light from within them sends goosebumps down your arms.

he opens his palm and there lies a butterfly in the center of it - a delicate, almost translucent butterfly with wings that shimmer. it takes off, fluttering away from him and you lift your hand to greet it.

its delicate wings brush against the tip of your thumb and you smile as it gently lands on your palm. upon closer inspection, you marvel at the intricate patterns on its back and soon it leaves, flying past you, making its way down the stairs.

his eyes never waver, even as you return your gaze to him once more. it's enough to make you stammer.

"t-thank you. uh...you'll have to teach me some time."

in the wake of your admiration for his 'talents', he takes your hand. his touch is surprisingly warm and his skin soft.

"i'd be happy to."

he places a kiss inside your palm and your heart, much like the butterfly, flutters. such intimacy from a man with sharp teeth.

"is it okay if i stay a bit longer?"

you're sure he notices the anticipation in your voice, how it quivers, expectant.

"of course."

#palm!!! kisses!!!#i'm a fucking sucker for that shit dude #obey me writing #obey me belphegor #obey me! belphegor #belphegor x reader #belphegor x gn reader #obey me fluff #obey me scenario #my writing 🐇

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riversofmars · 3 years

Text

So for today's update, seeing as I'm trying to give all my WIPs equal love: back to the headmistress and her sheep farmer! Here is part two! <3 Weather continues to be shite in West Yorkshire, hope it's better where you are!

Rating M (language and sexual themes)

TW: reference past abuse (but not a lot)

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Home Is Not A Place - Part 2: The Storm

“F-Bloody cold, bastard weather,“ Gillian groaned as she slammed the door shut. It had been storming all day, and she was soaked to the bone from being out on the farm.

“Gillian?“ Caroline appeared in the hallway, mug in hand and wrapped in a large woolly poncho. It was Saturday and she was counting her blessings that she had no reason to leave the house. Flora was staying with Greg in Manchester this weekend, and Raff and Ellie were spending the weekend with Ellie’s mother who was helping them house-shop. With Gillian out on the yard, Caroline had been left to enjoy the peace and quiet and taken the opportunity to catch up on her reading in front of the fire. At least that’s what she had been doing until she had been interrupted by the sheep farmer’s return and her colourful curses.

“Don’t even f-bloody say anything!“ Gillian snapped, peeling off her coat which had done sweet fuck all to protect her from the rain.

“For God’s sake, Gillian,“ Caroline chose to comment - regardless of her warning - upon realising the state she was in. Gillian’s hair stuck to her cheeks that were red from the cold, and her clothes were dripping. “What have you been doing?“ Caroline demanded to know and picked up the coat that Gillian had abandoned on the floor in her stroppy mood. She followed the sheep farmer into the living room and put the coat over a chair by the fire.

“Bloody foxes bothering sheep again,“ Gillian huffed, and the frequency of her curses told Caroline everything she needed to know about her mood.

“And that couldn’t have waited till the storm had passed?“ Caroline crossed her arms in front of her chest, like she might with an unruly student she expected an explanation from.

“Can’t do with losing any more to ‘em,“ Gillian mumbled, dropping her scarf onto the chair with the coat, but avoided meeting the headteacher’s eyes. She knew she was right. She should have come back inside upon finishing all the strictly necessary tasks and not faffed about going after a fox that she still hadn’t managed to shoot.

“You’re gonna catch your death, if you’re not careful,“ Caroline scolded, willing her voice to remain steady and not get distracted when Gillian pulled her shirt off revealing a tank top that clung to her body. Her shoulders were strong, despite her small frame, from years of working on the farm. Caroline wondered what it would be like to hold on to them if Gillian decided to put her strong hands to good use.

“What? And leave you in charge of farm, don’t think so. Gonna take a bit more than a storm to knock me out, you should know that by now.“

“I do know that, yes,“ Caroline had to agree. Her period of peace and quiet was over. Gillian was like a whirlwind of chaos and emotion but Caroline couldn’t pretend to be annoyed by that anymore. “Get yourself changed and sit by the fire, I’ll put the kettle on,“ she announced after brief consideration. “I’m not nursing you when you can’t get out of bed.“

“Oh that’s a shame, when nothing would make me happier than you waiting on me hand and foot,“ Gillian smirked and Caroline rolled her eyes.

“I bet,“ she huffed and made her way to the kitchen, allowing herself a moment to contemplate how nice it might be to dap a cold flannel to Gillian’s brow and smooth her hair behind her ears… She indulged the fantasy for the time it took her to fill the kettle with water and set it to boil. Then she glanced over into the living area and her heart nearly stopped. She gave a completely undignified squeak that drew Gillian’s attention, so she quickly followed it up with: “Jesus, Gillian, talk about boundaries!“ She couldn’t very well just remain standing there, watching Gillian strip down to her underwear, without shooting a suitably shocked comment her way.

“Shit, Caroline, I thought you’re making tea,“ the sheep farmer exclaimed, which was rich considering the fact that the living and cooking area were connected. She reached for a t-shirt to cover herself up but Caroline couldn’t pull her eyes off her the whole time.

“It’s open-plan!“ Caroline exclaimed, mortified, and Gillian huffed as she turned around, fishing for dry trousers in a pile of clean washing that had been dumped onto one of the sofas and was to be ironed at a later date. This, of course, required her to bend over, and Caroline watched with fascination and dread as she did so. Inwardly, the headteacher reprimanded herself, sternly, for the thoughts that crossed her mind. She was determined that she would not, under any circumstances, share them with anyone or ever act upon them. She wasn’t sure whether that made it better or worse.

“I couldn’t be arsed to go upstairs when there’s a pile of ironing right here,“ Gillian was quick to justify herself as she pulled on a pair of jeans and struggled to do so as her skin was still damp.

“You never lock the door either, anyone could have walked in.“ Caroline gestured towards the front of the house, trying to distract herself from her intrusive thoughts.

“Everyone is out, and our parents would have rung first if they wanted to pop round,“ Gillian shot back quickly and turned to face her again once halfway decent.

“Right,“ Caroline huffed, fully aware she had lost the argument and turned back to the kitchen to carry on making the tea and distract herself of the image of Gillian’s lean frame, water glistening on her toned stomach and soft curve of her breasts and… Well, Caroline wasn’t exactly distracting herself from it, she committed it to memory, allowing herself a moment to appreciate it in the privacy of her own mind.

“Sorry I’m… guess, I’m still not quite used to you being here all’t time,“ Gillian’s voice drew her back to the present. Caroline looked back around to find Gillian glancing across the room to her, her brow knitted into a frown of concern. It was that frown that she made whenever she wondered if she had done something wrong. Perhaps she wondered if she had made Caroline uncomfortable, rather than aroused.

“No, no, it’s fine, I’m not… trying to make you uncomfortable in your own home,“ Caroline was quick to respond. If anything, she should be the one apologising to her for ogling her the way she had.

“Our home. Halfsies, remember?“ Gillian gave her a hopeful smile that made Caroline’s heartbeat a little fast.

“Right…“ She responded with a smile of her own and finished preparing the mugs. “Here… I put some brandy in it,“ she explained as she returned to the living area and handed over the hot drink.

“Now, this is why I like having you 'round,“ Gillian grinned as they both dropped onto the sofa in front of the fire.

“Because I drive you to drink?“ Caroline chuckled and Gillian laughed:

“Because you drive me to drink with someone, not by meself.“ She took a sip of the tea that warmed her insides quickly, and silence fell between them as they watched the fire. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, far from it. They each turned to their thoughts, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the drink as well as - certainly in Caroline’s case, she couldn’t speak for Gillian - each other’s company.

“Does it surprise you?“ Caroline asked after a while, her eyes resting on the sheep farmer’s strong hands wrapped around her mug.

“What?“ Gillian asked, taking a sip, glancing at her expectantly.

“How well this is working?“ Caroline clarified, and Gillian chuckled:

“Should it?“

“No! No…no I mean… it was a bit of a rash decision, fuelled in no small measure to spite my mother…and yes, there are advantages to it, yes, sure, but… I expected it to be… harder,“ Caroline admitted thoughtfully. This, of course, made things difficult for her to keep straight in her head. Her attraction towards Gillian wasn’t new, it had developed over time and intensified in the last few years since she had moved out into the countryside herself. She had never paid much heed to it. There was just something about the sheep farmer, there always had been. It was evident by the sheer number of suitors she acquired. Given Caroline’s interest in women, she had merely assumed that she wasn’t immune to whatever it was. Her feelings towards Gillian hadn’t factored into her decision to move in together. It genuinely had seemed like the right decision for both of them and it was proving to be just that. Whatever concern Caroline may have had given that attraction, she had assumed that it would fade given time. Surely, living with Gillian - her mess, her moods, her… well, everything - was bound to put her off and end that idealised fantasy she had dreamed up in her head. Sadly, the opposite had occurred. While there were times where they still wound each other up, all things considered, being close to Gillian had made her realise how much she adored everything about her. Even the things she had expected she would hate. Now, all she could do was ignore her feelings and hope they would pass eventually. She would have to apply one of her mother’s approaches to problems: if you don’t talk about them, they don’t exist.

“Are you saying you expected me difficult to be round?“ Gillian smirked, never missing an opportunity to tease her.

“No! No! Well, yes, but not like…“ Caroline started and stopped herself when she realised what she was saying. She had been too preoccupied contemplating her crush on her, to mind her words.

“Keep digging,“ Gillian grinned, while clearly not taking offence, not really, anyway.

“No, I’m just… it’s nice,“ Caroline exclaimed, hoping to put the matter to bed. Not unlike she would have hoped to bed the sheep farmer but that was a different, none-existent matter that she wouldn’t talk about. “And I would have hoped it would be but… it’s nice to have it confirmed.“

“I like having you around,“ Gillian was more to the point than Caroline’s babbling mess of a statement.

“Even if I’m a snotty bitch?“ Caroline felt they were entering safer waters again.

“Particularly 'cause you’re a snotty bitch, you give the place a certain measure of class,“ Gillian laughed.

“A sheep farm with class?“

“A sheep farm with class,“ Gillian repeated with a nod. “It’s certainly stopped Cheryl trying to pick on us… and that new guy from ‘cross the moor stopped dropping by unannounced, he were a right pain.“ She grimaced at the memory of it.

“Think he had a bit of a thing for you,“ Caroline chuckled, contemplating the matter. Of course he did, show me one person attracted to women who doesn’t have a thing for Gillian bloody Greenwood, Caroline thought miserably.

“Well, he can fuck off with his fancy arse yellow tractor,“ Gillian huffed.

“Bit of a statement that, isn’t it.“

“You think?“

“Yes, like a peacock, flashing his feathers,“ Caroline mused, remembering him popping by the farm in it at one point. At the very least it had been great entertainment for Flora and Calamity but only until the point where they had started making fun of it, embarrassing them in front of what could have been a perfectly nice new neighbour.

“He were well confused when you opened door to him in your nighty that one time,“ Gillian grinned and Caroline feigned outrage.

“Well, he shouldn’t have called at bloody 10 o’clock at night, should he?“

“Probably hoping I’d invite him in, weren’t he.“ Gillian rolled her eyes.

“He must have heard of your stellar reputation,“ Caroline hummed into her tea, contemplating the matter that she was probably the envy of most of the male population of West Yorkshire when it came to “staying over at Gillian’s“. Shame it didn’t entail the same benefits for her that it had for many men in the past.

“Old Gillian would’ve,“ the sheep farmer mused, driving the point home painfully.

“He wasn’t even a looker,“ Caroline exclaimed, trying her best to keep her jealousy in check.

“Don’t have to look at his face if he has other qualities,“ Gillian shrugged matter-of-factly.

“Ew.“ Caroline contemplated adding some more brandy to her tea if the conversation was going to carry on the way it was. She glanced at the window. The rain hadn’t stopped, if anything, the storm was only getting worse, and there was absolutely no reason to be leaving the house. So what if it was only 11am? The brandy was tempting.

“You used to shag John, you can’t be that repulsed by it.“ Gillian demanded her attention with a knowing smirk.

“I liked John… for a time, loved him even, so I got over it but now… don’t think I could go back, honestly, I just… like women too much, should have stuck with them after uni,“ Caroline stated.

“That would have spared us the indignity of me shagging your ex-husband,“ Gillian had to admit.

“Ah, but then, we would have missed out on so much fun,“ Caroline elbowed her.

“Sorry… again… about all that,“ Gillian responded with a moment of sincerity while nursing her tea.

“It’s forgotten. If John could see us now, living together, his head would explode,“ the headteacher chuckled. “God knows what he’d presume was going on…“

“Hm… what indeed,“ Gillian hummed and Caroline struggled to interpret her response to an off-hand comment she already regretted making. Before she could attribute more meaning to it, Gillian concluded: “Men are idiots, aren’t they?“

“I have been saying this for some time.“ Caroline nodded with a smirk.

“Is it easier?“ Gillian asked, after finishing her drink in one final gulp.

“What?“ Caroline frowned, needing her to be more specific, and the sheep farmer took a moment to provide context, seemingly a little insecure.

“Dating… you know… women?“

“Oh. Uh- well, depends on the woman. Whether you have the same interests, want the same things out of life…“ Caroline suddenly found the inside of her mug very interesting indeed. “You for instance are…“ She broke off when she realised what she was saying but she seemed to have peaked Gillian’s interest:

“What?“ She asked curiously.

“Well, we… work well together, don’t we, we’re very different and yet…“ Caroline shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of a spring or something digging into her back. Anything to distract her from the sheep farmer.

“Are you coming on to me, Caz?“ Gillian smirked and Caroline’s face fell.

“No! No, no, don’t be ridiculous.“ Her voice was higher than usual and she shook her head vehemently.

“Hey, I’m not that bad, am I?“ The sheep farmer carried on, seemingly intent on exploiting a moment of weakness.

“Can’t win with you, can I,“ Caroline cleared her throat and focused her thoughts, she finished her tea, to give herself something to do.

“Relax, I’m only winding you up,“ Gillian elbowed her and Caroline became aware of how closely they were sitting together.

“Right.“

“Been with a girl once.“ Gillian added in an off-hand sort of way and got to her feet. She grabbed Caroline’s mug out of her hand who just stared at her in shock.

“What?“ Her mind was reeling from the statement and she couldn’t be sure if Gillian was trying to wind her up more or if she was serious, sharing one of her many sex-capades of the past for a laugh. Perhaps it was a bit of both. The sheep farmer didn’t answer immediately. She made her way into the kitchen and poured brandy into their mugs, forgoing the tea altogether. Caroline was watching her every move, tense for an answer, as Gillian took her time returning to the sofa. She handed her one of the mugs and took a sip of her own before sitting back down. There was a moment of quiet anticipation as Gillian appeared to be contemplating how to best tell the story.

“You know when… things were right bad with Eddie,“ she started at last and Caroline felt a lump forming in her throat. Eddie. How she longed never to hear that name again and for Gillian to forget all about him, but he would, forever, be a part of her, of them. Caroline hated hearing about that part of Gillian’s life because of how helpless it made her feel and how much she wished it had never happened. But there was also a part of her that was keen to listen, not out of morbid curiosity, but because it meant a lot to her that Gillian felt she could talk to her about him. She was, after all, the first person she had ever told of the real circumstances of her husband’s untimely death. Caroline felt honoured that Gillian confided in her, so she listened, for her, as much as it might hurt. She hadn’t anticipated this sharp change of pace and topic but perhaps it was something Gillian needed to get off her chest.

“He was controlling too, wan’t he, and wouldn’t really let me see other men, so…“ Gillian took a deep breath and a sip of the brandy to steady her nerves. “Guess he wasn’t that threatened by women so there was this lass, up in, uh... Huddersfield, actually, funnily enough.“ Gillian chuckled but there was no joy to it. “There was this one time where Eddie, he got really p-pissed on a night out there and got in a fight. Coppers had to break it up and he got arrested… I was g-gonna pick him up but when I were stood outside police station, I couldn’t make myself go in.“ She took another sip of her drink and Caroline reached out for her free hand. Gillian’s voice was more shaky now, there was the stammer too, that she got whenever negative emotions threatened to swallow her up. “C-Cause I knew if I did and bailed him out that night, he’d be…in a t-terrible state and he’d be right f-fucking pissed for having been arrested and…“ She broke off, curling her fingers tightly around Caroline’s. “Well anyway, I turned round, went to pub instead. Didn’t know it were a… gay bar or whatever, did I… but I really needed a drink and there was this girl…and she were nice and apparently liked the look of me and, by that point, I was just relieved to be away from Eddie for night and I… t-took opportunity, didn’t I. Stayed over. Picked up Eddie in’t morning. Told him coppers wouldn’t let me pick him up that night so I h-had to wait.“

“And he believed that?“ Caroline asked gently, running her thumb over the back of her hand.

“N-No. But he didn’t guess what I’d been up t-to that night, else he would have done more than give me a black eye, wouldn’t he…“ Gillian took a deep breath, eager to wrap up the story. “Saw her a couple times after that too, but couldn’t keep finding reasons to go to bloody Huddersfield, could I, so it fizzled out eventually.“

“I’m sorry, Gillian, I…“ Caroline didn’t know what to say. She wanted nothing more than to pull her into her arms, hold her close and tell her that everything would be alright but that would betray a depth of emotion that would probably overwhelm her. These were the times when Caroline was reminded of how fragile the other woman really was. She was staring into her mug, seemingly attempting to divine meaning from the amber liquid but coming up short. Caroline was struck - and not for the first time - by how small Gillian looked when she retreated into herself. Yes, physically, she was obviously far smaller than Caroline but her loud personality and presence usually more than made up for it. When the pretence of confidence fell away, what remained was the broken woman Eddie had left behind. Caroline couldn’t blame her for having killed him, not for a moment.

“’S fine,“ Gillian mumbled.

“It’s not fine,“ Caroline insisted, anger boiling up inside her.

“No, but it’s in the past,“ Gillian countered with surprising calmness as she finished off her drink. She glanced at Caroline and there was an odd sense of acceptance in her eyes, of hopefulness, of determination not to be defined by the past and to move forward. She gave Caroline’s hand a squeeze. “The girl was the point of the story, not Eddie,“ she said and managed a little smile, encouraging the conversation along to more pleasant matters. “Bloody hell, Caroline, I was hoping you’d at least be a little bit shocked or something.“ She managed a chuckle.

“So… what’d she look like?“ Caroline asked after another moment of silence, as she contemplated how to steer clear of the gloominess of the past.

“Who?“ Gillian frowned.

“The girl!“ Caroline exclaimed and let go of her hand. She watched Gillian with delight at the blush that suddenly crept onto the sheep farmer’s cheeks.

“Oh! Uhh- dunno.“ Gillian looked into her mug, which was now empty and provided no distraction.

“Yes you do,“ Caroline teased.

“Blonde. Tall,“ Gillian sighed, exasperated.

“Ohh, do you have a type,“ Caroline joked, trying to brush over a wave of jealousy.

“She was no uptight bitch if that’s what you’re bothered about,“ Gillian’s snark returned in full force.

“That's a no-go, is it?"

“It was good though…“ Gillian went on, completely ignoring Caroline's question.

“What?“ The headteacher frowned confused.

“The sex,“ Gillian smirked, causing Caroline to nearly spit out her drink.

#last tango in halifax #gillian greenwood #nicola walker #ltih #sarah lancashire #caroline mckenzie dawson #caroline x gillian #gillian/caroline #fanfiction #mild angst #banter #domestic #british weather is a bitch #femslash #slow burn #mutual pining

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