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#like I said this is still old art I’m posting

zinabug · 11 months

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Technically a re-draw of one of my first limited palette drawings! Maddie may not technically be one of my bloodborne ocs anymore but,,, boom hammer. Old version from 2021 under the cut because it is old

[ID: a digital drawing in yellows and oranges of Maddie, an OC. She is an older woman with a wide-brimmed hat with goggles and pince nez, wearing a shirt with rolled up sleeves, a waistcoat, and skirt. She is holding a smoking hammer with a clawed end in both hands and smiling.]

[ID: a similar drawing as before, although Maddie doesn’t have a hat and her hair is in a bob, she is wearing a coat with a shoulder cape, and is holding a gun in one hand and her hammer in the other.]

#my art #limited palette #Maddie #I’m never really sure how to talk about my bloodborne ocs that have since moved to other projects?? there’s quite a lot of them. like a lot #avoiding the posting my old art cringe by scheduling this at 1am so I don’t have to think #I want to actually post my art here. I do a lot of it. technically this is an art blog.#whatever. she’s in my gay pirate book now it’s a much better environment for her although I’m still currently playing her in bloodborne #because as I said before. boom hammer.#clockwork heart

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art · 23 days

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Creator Spotlight: @camberdraws

Hello! My name is Camber (any pronouns), and I’m a mixed media illustrator located in the southwestern United States. I love drawing everything, but I have a special interest in depicting strange creatures and environments, often accompanied by abstract imagery and mark-making. Professionally, I’ve worked creating concept art and 2D assets for museum exhibits, but currently, I am engaged full-time as a software developer and make standalone illustrations in my free time. I’ve been posting art on Tumblr since I was a teenager, and the site has been very welcoming towards my work to this very day!

Check out Camber’s interview below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I’ve had an interest in drawing since I was barely sentient, but at thirteen years old I decided to become “serious” about art. I was all about reading tutorials and doing a ton of studies. I would tote my heavy instructional art books to school every single day (my poor back!) Despite all this, I decided to forgo art school in favor of a bachelor’s degree in Computer Science at my local college. Alongside my major, I received a minor in Art Studio with a specialization in fine art, which totally changed my views on creating artwork and drastically changed my style.

How has your style developed over the years?

As mentioned previously, my style did a 180 after I studied under some very skilled fine art professors! As a kid, my drawings were very realism-heavy and inspired by video game concept art. I mostly worked digitally, too. During college, I was thrown for a loop when we were instructed to do strange things like, for example, make a bunch of marks on paper using pastel, WITHOUT looking, and then turn said marks into a finished piece of art! I quickly and deeply fell in love with abstract work, and especially appreciated images that are not easily parsed by the viewer. Since then, I’ve made it my goal to combine abstract mark-making with more representational subject matter.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Hmmm, one habit I really enjoy as an artist is strictly tracking the amount of time I spend drawing! I currently work a full-time job wholly unrelated to art, so I have to be careful with my time if I want to spend enough hours drawing each week. I created a spreadsheet that allows you to enter the amount of minutes you’ve drawn each day and calculate how much drawing time you still need to reach your weekly goal (I aim for 20 hours a week.) Having such a clear, numbers-based objective keeps me motivated to work like nothing else!

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

I know this is a common inspiration, but Hayao Miyazaki’s work has been rewiring my neurons since I was a child. Seemingly all of my artistic interests can be summed up by the movie Princess Mononoke: it has strange/abstract creature designs, a strong focus on nature and environmental storytelling, and a mix of dark and hopeful themes. Additionally, I’ve been deeply inspired by video game series such as Zelda, Okami, Pikmin, and Dark Souls. But arguably, none of these have influenced me more than Pokemon! I’ve been drawing Pokemon since I could barely hold a pencil, and I haven’t stopped since! I believe my love of designing creatures originated with my endless deluge of Pokemon fanart during my childhood.

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

I’ve always been fascinated by 3D mediums and am so tempted to try them out! Whether that’s 3D models created digitally or sculptures made from clay, I profoundly admire artists who have this skill. Oftentimes, it feels like I don’t have time to delve into a totally different artistic paradigm. However, I feel very strongly that learning new skills can enrich your current work. I should take that advice and someday give 3D mediums a shot!

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

I am in the process of creating an art book (a dream of mine!) and have been executing smaller drawings of concepts I find interesting from both a visual and storytelling standpoint. A recent drawing for said book is that of a snail made of ink with an ink bottle as a shell, and it went absolutely viral! I’ve never had an experience like this as an artist before and it has been spectacular! I was able to open a shop using my newly acquired art printer and sell many prints of my snail. Creating something original, directly stemming from my interests, and having that resonate with so many people has been unreal. I couldn’t ask for more as an artist!

What advice would you give to younger you about making art that’s personal or truthful to your own experiences?

I would tell my younger self to chill out and experiment more! I was so caught up in the idea that I needed to have a realistic style to be considered “good.” I also believed that technical skill was the only measure of how worthy my art was. That’s not to say technical skill doesn’t matter, but I now firmly believe the creativity and voice of your ideas far outweigh the skill of execution in terms of importance. Technical skills should elevate ideas, not the other way around. Once I began to revel in strange ideas and stories for my work, depicted oftentimes in odd styles or mediums, I truly found my voice as an artist.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

My peers here on Tumblr inspire me more than anything! Sharing my work with contemporaries and giving each other support brings me joy like no other, and keeps me motivated to continue creating. I wouldn’t be where I am today without them! @beetlestench, @theogm-art, @trustyalt, @ratwednesday, @phantom-nisnow, @svltart, @mintsdraws, @mothhh-hh, @jupiterweathers, @thesewispsofsmoke, @picoffee, @fetchiko, @kaisei-ink, and @pine-niidles just to name only a few!

Thanks for stopping by, Camber! If you haven’t seen their Meet the Artist piece, check it out here. For more of Camber’s work, follow their Tumblr, @camberdraws!

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #camberdraws

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rageserenity · 1 month

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It's 2024. Are you still thinking about movieverse!Cherik? Because I am.

For the past several months, there's only been a very slow trickle of posts/fics in the xmcu cherik tag. Let's try to breathe some life back into this incredible pairing!

With one clear winner of my poll, here's thirty prompts for the thirty days of April. (This is a super chill, laid-back event---do these in any order, interpret them as loosely as you like! Create in any medium! Fic, art, gifs, meta, incoherent screaming about the otp…all winners in my book.)

The only rule here is to cherik too close to the sun. Alright. Here are the prompts.

Mutual Pining

Doesn't really even need elaboration! Write that horrifically slow slow-burn. Gif every time McAvoy made insane fuck me eyes on screen. Make a playlist of songs about impossible love.

2. Alternate Meetings

There are endless quotes about how these two complete each other in a way no one they'd met before or after ever did. How else could they have met?

3. Erik Has A Telepathy Kink

This is basically canon. Let my boy get freaky!

4. Canon Fix-It

All the times Fox fucked it up. There are endless options.

5. Hurt/Comfort

Put them in that Situation. Put them in that Blender. Break them apart and put them back together ❤️‍🩹

6. Canon Compliant

Draw that missing scene! Gif your favourite cherik moment!

7. Beach Divorce

Make it worse. Make it better. Show it to us exactly how it was. Break it down in a 3,000 word meta. Go wild!

8. Domestics

Sometimes you just want to see them doing normal couple things. Erik put the gun down.

9. Found Family

The real heart of x-men!

10. Time Travel

There are SO many possibilities here. Stick them in a time loop. Give them a chance to change their past.

11. AU

Love a good AU!

12. There Is Only One Bed

Had to get this one in here. What better way to amp up the tension?

13. Genosha

By some miracle, cherik actually did end up together at the end of 2019s trash bag disaster Dark Phoenix. We aren’t making a big enough deal about this.

14. Declaration(s) of Love

Who says it first? How do they say it and when? Have they said it…without saying it?

15. Jealousy

Need I say more.

16. Reunion

These two have absolutely no chill.

17. Soulmates

Classic prompt, had to get this in here too.

18. The DOFP Aircraft

The TENSION here. Break it down for me. How does Charles feel about his injury? How does Erik feel about his injury?

19. Gay Mutant Road Trip

You already know.

20. Body Swap

SO fun when people have superpowers.

21. First Kiss

When? How? Who initiated it?

22. The Mansion

Mansion!content is a genre of its own.

23. Conflicting Ideology

Give me your theses. Who’s right? Can they ever reconcile completely? Write a fic where it drives them apart.

24. Sebastian Shaw

A trope unto himself.

25. Team As Matchmaker

They had to have known something was going on, didn’t they?

26. Cooking

Charles deserves a good meal. Also, imagine Erik using his powers in the kitchen. The sheer domesticity…

27. Hurt No Comfort

Plenty of scope with these two 🥲

28. Growing Old Together

Giving Sirs Ian Mckellan and Patrick Stewart their props as well!

29. Making Up

*pushes chess board across the table* sorry babe

30. Charles Xavier Did More For Mutants Than You'll Ever Know

Rising to each other’s defense. Only I can insult this man.

I will be tracking #revivecherik to reblog stuff! Here’s a fic collection for the same. Let’s get this ball rolling! Please feel free to send me an ask if you’ve got anything to say! And most importantly, let’s all have fun 😁

*I know a few of you preferred something like a gift exchange because of the commitment factor—I’m super down to organise a tiny one for the handful of us! If this promptathon doesn’t flop horribly, we can hopefully do a whole bunch of stuff :)

If you read this post all the way through, please reblog for reach! Thank you! Hoping you participate come April.

Shoutout to @inmymagnetoera for reaching out and helping with this!

#revivecherik #cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #xmfc #james mcavoy #michael fassbender #x men days of future past #x men #charles x erik #magneto #professor x

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amourcheol · 9 months

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paris (teaser)

❝You and Jeonghan, jazz-filled corners, hidden history, and the city of love.❞

historical! au | exes to lovers! au | angst, fluff, smut | approx. 45k words (teaser wc. 1.4k words)

s u m m a r y : disgraced by hollywood for the last time, you, a once superstar-turned-alcoholic, escape to the city of love to seek sanctuary from the ruthless tabloids. your sanctuary comes in the form of film noir superstar yoon jeonghan, the enigmatic man who taught you the art of acting, lust and love before your fame. when he asks to meet you once, just like old times, you cannot refuse. what is meant to be a simple date turns into a path of passion, pain and everything that comes with fooling around with your ex in the jazz-filled corners of paris.

c o n t e n t s : actor! mc, actor! jeonghan, mc is incredibly bitter and makes bad decisions, agent! seungkwan who is tired of fixing them, jeonghan is the suavest, sultriest mf, mentions of parisian landmarks in this fic, also a bit of french peppered throughout, greek mythology art references, tons of fluff which is also layered with angst, this will be very hurt-comfort, hella ansgty but will have a happy ending mature warnings -> alcohol consumption and abuse, smoking, this is basically sexual tension with plot, slightly drunk making out, oral sex (f. receiving) unprotected sex (refer point to bad decisions), very soft angsty sex, body worshipping, petnames (chérie, mon ange, darling, angel), overall emotional rollercoaster, more tba!

p l a y l i s t : here!

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld @sysymei @alaypsy23 @belladaises @jjeongddol @sparklyshuji @forcoups @ilovesungjun @wonwoo24 @scandal-in-bohemia @hopefulchick @superbbananananana @onedumbho3 @fragmentof-indifference @cuntycheol @rubywonu @if-i-like-i-reblog @yoonzinoooo @jungwoos-luvr @crookedwolfruins @leclercloverbot @alexai (let me know if y’all want to be tagged!)

a u t h o r ’ s n o t e : after three years ... four rewritings later... she may finally see the light ... i am releasing the teaser now but will post the fic when i’m back from holiday! i hope you all enjoy the lil extract <3

read this fic here!

SHIT. YOU COULD NOT DO THIS TODAY.

Suddenly, you wished he was a mere figment of your imagination, because then he would not have to see you in your drunken, disordered state, looking for art that was not there, looking for the past in the present.

But then he began to move.

This very real presence walked closer to you, and you felt your entire body constricting, because Yoon Jeonghan was in front of you, the greatest star in the world was approaching you, the man of your distant memories was coming too close.

“Wait,” he then said, and your throat was closing up, you were blinking rapidly, chest growing heavy, and you needed him to get away. He came closer, and you knew then and there you were going to die on the cold floor of the Louvre, marble eyes on you—

And then your own gaze was glistening, and when he noticed it became harder to contain yourself. “_____, are you all right?”

“Yes!” you got out, but then you proved yourself wrong when a few tears slipped out, staining your cheeks.

The man wasted no time, closing the last space between the two of you as he reached out. Instantly, you repelled from his touch, almost flinching from his surprise. “No!” you rasped out, bringing out your own hands to create distance, taking a step back. “No, you don’t need to do that…I’m fine.”

You breathed sharply through your nose. “I am fine.”

Hastily you turned to the empty space where he last was, before you followed him like a madwoman around the hall. He watched you, your back almost to him. “What…what are you…” you paused, trying to normalise your shaking voice. “What are you doing here?”

You could feel his inquisitive stare upon you. “I could ask you the same thing.”

That question was not being answered. “I asked you first.”

Because you could not see him, you were not aware of his reaction. Still, it was enough for him to answer, “Well, in the Louvre, or in Paris?”

You gritted your teeth at that. “I think everyone knows why you’re in Paris at the moment.”

“Do they, now?”

You could not help it.

Casting a momentary glance at him, you were taken aback to find his gaze upon you. “Are you aware, at least?” he asked you.

Despite his simple questions, your impending headache, you had to clamp down on your remarks. “Of course I’m aware,” you muttered. “The papers are all over the press tours you’ve been doing.”

A perfectly groomed brow arched at your comment. “I’m surprised you follow the papers at the moment.”

You knew exactly what he meant. “One must keep check of the stories they gossip about,” you only said, focusing back on the empty space. “Those journalists cannot be trusted.”

“Hmm…” you heard shuffling amongst his clothes—no doubt crossing his arms. “I have read the stories.”

A scoff. “I suppose you believe them, don’t you?”

He noted the cruelty in your response. The actor did not take it to heart.

“I have always believed in the stories you told me, chérie.”

This time, curiosity controlled your movement.

Curiosity had you turning back, forcing you to observe his expression, catch his lie.

But you found no deception.

No, there was only sincerity—pure as the moonlight shining on the two of you.

Chérie.

The last time someone had called you such a sweet name was too long ago.

How ironic, that it was the same man beside you who had bestowed you this very endearment.

A shuddered breath left you.

You could not do this now.

You were going to say as much when Jeonghan interrupted you.

“Were you looking for something in here?”

Your furrowed brows had him humming. “I thought as much.” Gently, he jerked his head beyond your figure. “Strangely enough, I was looking for it as well.”

Confused, you glanced back at the empty space, where that certain, mysterious sculpture was supposed to be. “That is why I came to the Louvre,” you heard him say.

There was still suspicion laced in your features. “How do you know that we are thinking of the same piece?”

That ghost of a smile crept up again. “You act as if you don’t remember.”

Your sigh was a little sheepish. “I do,” you said, reminiscing on the memories. “But the name…”

No matter how hard you endeavoured, your memory of the sculpture was too hazy for your half-drunk mind.

You searched him for an answer. “I’m sure you have not forgotten.”

“No…I have not.”

You waited. His silence had you insisting, “Well?”

When you saw a slight glimmer in his whimsical gaze, you knew that he had something else in mind. The implications had you biting your lower lip, anxiety blooming.

The nerves grew when Jeonghan spoke.

“I will tell you if you see me tomorrow.”

You blinked back.

“There’s an exhibition opening here tomorrow afternoon,” he continued, taking a step towards you, careful not to startle you again. “It’s centred on the sculpture we both wanted to see, but it’s been moved to another hall.”

He confused you a great amount. “How do you know that?”

His stare went beyond you, to the wall. “It says on the plaque.”

Sure enough—when you looked back, there was the notice. Because your French was adequate at best, you did not understand it fully. You simply had to trust his linguistic abilities.

That you could do—you were aware of Jeonghan’s fluency in the language of love.

He cocked his head, a few strays cascading the side of his face. “You and I could see it there.”

The offer had shaken you. “Why?”

“Why?”

You knitted your brows suspiciously. “Why do you want to go with me?”

The film noir star watched you then, you shuffling uncomfortably under his scrutiny. God, you forgot how intense his eyes were—in fairness, you had not been the subject of his stares for a few years.

He locked his gloved hands behind his back. “Because you need a break, _____. From everything.”

He offered you a smile. “Let me be the one to give you that. If only for the day.”

You could have crumbled before him.

It was at this stage you cursed yourself for being in such a state. Perhaps if you were sober, you would have carried on this conversation in a more respectable manner, taken more caution.

It was incredibly difficult, composing yourself around the man.

“I can’t…” you inhaled sharply, trying to form the words. “I cannot do midday…too many people, you know…staring, judging…”

“Ah.” He nodded, parting his mouth in thought. “Then tomorrow night?”

Stretching your mouth, unsure, he assured, “They will not follow you here at this hour.”

“How are you so sure of that?”

This time, he sighed, surprised at your anxiousness. “I see you’ve not changed, then.”

You narrowed your gaze. “What is that supposed to mean?”

But the actor did not seem like he was going to elaborate.

He instead took another step towards you, a mere two feet left.

“Do you trust me?”

You tilted your head back.

What kind of question was that?

Do you trust me?

You did not trust anyone. Not after this whole debacle back home, when almost all your friends within the industry had contributed to your downfall. Hollywood was filled with traitors, the worst being the people who haunted the journey of your disgrace at every moment.

It was impossible to place any ounce of faith in another.

As you watched his eyes settle on you, you noticed an emotion you had not witnessed in forever.

Tenderness.

Tenderness with no ulterior motive—gentle acceptance, as if he recognised your position. As if he recognised your change, the apprehensive nature of your questions, your pauses. It physically hurt being stained with such compassion, when you had been begging for it from the world all those weeks ago.

It hurt, having someone who understood you.

You, however, should not have been surprised.

Yoon Jeonghan had always been like this. Especially when you both were together.

You could have smiled.

What a time that was.

As if he could read your mind, the film noir star began, “You remember, don’t you? That I’ve never let you down?”

You decided to let yourself slip—you could always blame it on the alcohol.

“What time do you want me here tomorrow?”

#seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #yoon jeonghan imagines #jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan smut #jeonghan smut #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #jeonghan x reader #svt smut #svt imagines #yoon jeonghan x reader #seventeen hard hours #svt hard hours #yoon jeonghan #seventeen angst #jeonghan angst #yoon jeonghan angst

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even-disco-baby · 1 year

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SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hello again, gendarme.” He smiles at you— not from his usual post, but from one of the cafeteria tables. A small sketchbook is laid out in front of him, along with some odd gray sticks.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Compressed graphite. Not quite as bold or blendable as charcoal, but certainly less messy.

EMPATHY — Garte will appreciate it.

“I’d like to talk about the case again.”

“You moved! I didn’t know you could do that.”

“What are you drawing?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “That’s the question, isn’t it?” His smile turns a little rueful. “I found one of my old sketchbooks and thought I’d like to fill the last few empty pages, but I’m finding myself a little… uninspired.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION — The accursed artist’s block. Staring down an empty page only for it to stare back, mocking you.

EMPATHY — He is unsure of himself. He said this was an old sketchbook. Maybe he’s afraid of drawing something new beside his old work and seeing that nothing has changed.

“Ah, yes. Artist’s block. I know it well. In fact, I don’t know when the last time that I actually *made* any art was.”

“You could draw the cafeteria.”

“You could draw one of the other diners.”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “A life drawing exercise, huh? And who would you pick as a subject, gendarme?”

“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”

“Maybe Garte? The skua could be a fun challenge.”

“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”

“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”

“Kim, how about you pose for him?”

[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No.”

He has nothing more to say on the matter.

“Aw, why not? You’d make a great model!”

Let it go.

KIM KITSURAGI — “I do not get paid to model for portraits. I get paid to solve murders. Such as the one we came here to investigate. Several days ago. Which has not been solved yet, for some mysterious reason.”

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — In case you couldn’t tell, that was sarcasm.

“Come on, Kim. You’re the perfect subject! A true man of the people. And there’s this sort of radiance about you… I can see the portrait already, just looking at you. Really clearly, actually.”

Maybe don’t say that. He’s just not gonna get it.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs. “Sorry, gendarme. It’s not right to use someone’s image without permission, you know? Maybe some other time.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No.” And then, a little awkwardly, “But thank you.”

“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”

“How about Garte? Though, you’d have to draw the skua, too…”

“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”

“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”

“Kim, how about you pose for him?”

[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”

CHECK SUCCESS

YOU — “Why not me?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He considers you with some amusement, but still, he does consider. “You’re not too busy?”

“On second thought, you’re right, I have some work to do right now. Another time, maybe?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant sighs audibly.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — What did I *just* say?

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He chuckles to himself, apparently quite tickled by the little comedy act you two are making of yourselves. “Beautiful. Why not? Have a seat. I’ll try not to keep you too long.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Much appreciated,” he says drily.

YOU — [Take a seat.]

SAVOIR FAIRE — Time to strike a pose. Let’s go with something cool. Something that really captures what you’re all about.

ENDURANCE — But make sure it’s something that you’ll be able to hold comfortably.

Wink and shoot him your signature finger guns.

Look at him with big sad eyes like a shamed puppy.

Look thoughtfully into the middle distance, as if contemplating your own future masterpiece.

Stare straight at him with eyes that have seen how this world will end.

Hold your head up high. With *honor.*

Just sit and act natural. No need to put on airs.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He looks you up and down, thumbing his bottom lip. His eyes look brighter and more alert than you have ever seen them. And then, he picks up his graphite and begins to work.

His eyes dart between you and the page, his hand sweeping across the page in bold, practiced strokes. All traces of his earlier hesitation have vanished.

VOLITION — Sometimes, a little push is all we need.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — Every now and then, he pauses to look up at you, and it’s almost unnerving to be the subject of whatever calculations are going on behind his eyes. He holds out his graphite, squinting just slightly.

VISUAL CALCULUS — This is called sighting. He’s roughly measuring the relative proportions of your figure and checking them against his sketch.

KIM KITSURAGI — Even the lieutenant is watching now, interested in spite of himself.

“Are portraits your specialty?”

“Have you been drawing anything for school lately?”

Better not distract him.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hmm…” He ponders this for a moment, not looking up from his work. “Not exactly. I’m more interested in the graphic arts than this sort of thing. But it’s best to build a strong foundation before branching out, you know?”

YOU — “Graphic arts? Like what?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Printmaking.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he speaks, seemingly without him even noticing. “Monotype, especially.”

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Monotype is a printmaking technique that is singular from other techniques, in that it produces only *one* unique print, rather than an edition of multiple prints.

YOU — What, really? What’s the point of printing it, then?

ENCYCLOPEDIA — I don’t know. I didn’t invent it.

“Why monotype? Wouldn’t a different technique be more… practical?”

“I see.” [Drop the subject.]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs slightly, smudging a bit of graphite with a bare finger. “Depends on how you define practical, I suppose. If I had my own studio, and I was selling my prints, then maybe. But we make do with what we have, gendarme.”

EMPATHY — And what he has is very little.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Besides, I think monotype has its charms.”

The young man does not elaborate, instead focusing on the work at hand. He picks up an eraser that has been shaved down to a point for fine detail work, and begins on what are likely the finishing touches.

EMPATHY — He has already talked at uncharacteristic length about this. It’s making him a little uncomfortable.

SAVOIR FAIRE — He doesn’t like to share too much about himself because it makes him feel *uncool.* He prefers to maintain an air of mystery.

RHETORIC — It’s safer, too, that way. He’s learned that passion exists to be exploited. False promises and admiration are the offerings of Sunday friends.

“If you say so.” [Back off.]

“What kind of charms?” [Press on.]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His eyes flit back to you, sizing you up now in a different way. And then he looks back down at the page with a quiet bre ath.

“Well, it doesn’t take as much time or labor as other methods. Or expensive tools, or dangerous chemicals. Just paper, a plate, ink, and something to apply it with. And I can use the same plate over and over again, even use it to create different layers for the same print.”

RHETORIC — In other words, it’s cheap and can be done from home. An attractive option.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “And with monotype, it’s not so hard to go back and change your mind. You can start over as many times as you’d like, right up until the moment you lay the page on the plate.”

INLAND EMPIRE — That really does sound attractive. To be able to wipe the slate clean, over and over again…

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There aren’t as many limits on what kind of textures you can create, too. Brushstrokes and fingerprints… They can really come out beautiful.”

His brow creases a little, and he picks his graphite back up to rework a particular area.

DRAMA — He’s still holding out on you, sire. Too self-conscious to admit what he really likes about the medium.

YOU — Which is what?

EMPATHY — Fragility.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — An image which is only complete after being mirrored and translated, never to be recreated except as a ghostly afterimage. An exercise in surrendering to chance. What will be, will be. And then the moment will pass, and it will be time to start the next piece.

VOLITION — This man knows disappointment intimately. It is his closest companion. He has learned to make peace with it. He passes the time with his Sunday friends, lays his paper on the plate and hopes, despite himself, for the best.

YOU — Is that… a good thing?

VOLITION — …It’s hard to say. But we make do with what we have.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There.” The young man sits up straight, and it’s only now that you realize just how close he brought himself to his work.

DRAMA — His face may not betray him, but the body does not lie. He was having *fun,* my liege.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “All done.” He tears the page from his book and holds it out to you with a small smile.

ITEM GAINED: Portrait of a Disco Holdover

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hope I didn’t keep you too long.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Don’t worry about it,” Kim says, rather resignedly.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — If you’d declined, the lieutenant thinks, my partner would have just found some other way to get sidetracked.

KIM KITSURAGI — Still, he cannot stop himself from glancing at the portrait over your shoulder.

PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — It’s you! Unfortunately. Not even the most masterful hand could make the Expression less unsettling to look at. Your posture is poor, your face is swollen and blotchy, your hair is thinning, your clothes are shabby and out of place… I could go on.

Oh god, you could?

Please don’t.

PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — But, you know… it’s nice. The smoker’s technique is bold and rather lovely, broad strokes of graphite intersecting in just the right places to create surprising depths. Somehow, even though it’s you… it’s not hideous.

EMPATHY — Because you’re seeing yourself through another person’s eyes.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — There is an odd tenderness to the portrait. Something amusing in your grimace, a touch of sympathy in your hunched shoulders. With the eraser, he has lifted small spots of pigment from your face, as if it were illuminated by flecks of light from the karaoke disco ball.

There are no disco lights tonight, but still, he sees them when he looks at you. Your moment has passed, but it left quite the impression. A ghost print, superimposed over you.

“Not bad, but the bicep girth is off. Right, Kim?”

“Oh god, is that really what I look like?”

“Hmm. It’s okay, but you should consider a backup career plan.”

“Whoa, you’re amazing! Can you draw me again, but this time in the costume from the cover of Man from Hjelmdall and the Devil Woman? And like, with a really cool warhammer? And Queen Lydiaana standing in the background, all like, ‘boohoo, where will I ever find another man like Ha— I mean, the Man from Hjelmdall?’”

“Beautiful.”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His smile climbs up into the corners of his eyes, warming his entire countenance.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — If you were to capture a portrait of him in this moment, it would be beautiful, too.

#disco elysium #harry du bois #the smoker on the balcony #kim kitsuragi #this one is. so self indulgent. i like the smoker i like to think abt him #and assign him my art student interests #anyway. oh the joy of making art and showing ppl what they rlly look like in your eyes #and oh the beauty of monotypes and printmaking and hoping for the best #GODDAMMIT I FUCKED UP THE FORMATTING AGAIN AND DIDNT CATCH IT UNTIL LIKE 12 HOURS LATER.#if you saw that. no you didn’t.

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ramblingoak · 12 days

Text

Peanuts and Cracker Jacks

Secondo x Female Reader

Still lusting over Secondo in the ghaseball uniform so here's a sort of sequel to Sliding Home (which you don't have to read first) and some amazing art by @tasty-ribz. Happy late birthday Ribz! Love you bby 💙

Warnings: baseball talk, smutty fun in a locker room, nsfw 18+ only, mdni, 1600k words, not really beta read forgive me

“Why am I doing this again?”

“I told you,” You slapped his hands away when he reached up to adjust his ball cap. “It’s good pr, gets people curious about the chur–”

“You misunderstand. Why am I doing this again?” Secondo stood up and turned to look himself over in the mirror. “Couldn’t Terzo have taken a turn?”

“Well, I tried Terzo. Had Copia take him out onto the abbey grounds for a game of catch and everything.” When you were silent for a few moments Secondo turned your way with a raised eyebrow. “He, uh, broke one of the windows of Primo’s main greenhouse.”

“Ah. That’s why the old man was screaming the other day.”

“Yes. So that was a whole…thing. Imperator told me to send you again and well, here we are.”

You stood up with a flourish, your arms wide and a big smile on your face. It was clear Secondo wasn’t buying it. He clicked his tongue at you as he took a few steps closer.

“Imperator chose me, eh? Not her golden boy?”

“Copia was uh, busy. You know,” When Secondo closed the distance between you even further you gulped and started backing up. “Papa stuff.”

“Si, I do know of this ‘Papa stuff’.” He grinned when your back hit the wall and you let out a little yelp. “I think I know why I’m here and mio fratellino isn’t.”

“Terzo would’ve nailed someone in the head with a ball.”

“No, not him. Copia.”

“Copia was busy, as I said.”

“Wrong. Copia has been posting pictures of his rats on his private Instagram all morning.”

“Wait, he has a private Instagram? No one told me thi–”

Secondo’s finger on your lips shut you up. You couldn’t help but hold your breath as the man shifted even closer, one arm bracketing you. Like usual, having him so close overwhelmed your senses. His demeanor, his words, even his smell was pulling you in like always. You were absolutely enamored by him.

Especially with him in that uniform.

“I think, cara mia, that you asked Imperator to send me. Specifically.”

“That doesn’t seem like something I would do.”

Secondo flashed you a grin that had your stomach doing a little somersault. He leaned in close, his lips just barely flitting across your own before he moved them close to your ear, “You wanted to see me in this costume again.”

“It’s not a costume, it’s a uniform.” He snorted, the quick exhalation of breath on your ear making you jump. “And so what if I did,” Secondo pulled back far enough for you to see his face, an eyebrow once again raised as he regarded you. “Want to see you in this again? Is that so bad?”

“Non c’è male affatto. It’s bene. Good. But,” His lips were back on your ear, his body now pressing up against you. Your hands moved to grasp at the uniform top, your grip tightening when his tongue ran along the shell of your ear. “Next time just ask me, eh?”

You stumbled a bit when he abruptly backed away, your grip on his top the only thing keeping your wobbly legs from collapsing under you. There was a brisk knock at the door to the room and a voice called out that Secondo had ten minutes. He covered your hands with his, the black leather warm and soft like it always was. You suddenly felt like apologizing and opened your mouth to do so but he seemed to sense it. He shushed you while bringing your hands to his mouth and pressing kisses to each of your palms before letting them go and walking towards the door.

“Papa, wait!” He stopped and turned back towards you, his eyes darkening a bit when you began to slink his way. You reached towards him and straightened his sleeves, smoothing your hands down his chest next until your fingers rested on the buckle of his belt. “Mi dispiace, Papa. Shall I make it up to you?”

“If it pleases you.” His eyes focused on your mouth when you bit your bottom lip, your tongue immediately peeking out to soothe the sting. “It would certainly please me.”

“Let’s make it interesting. How about I reward you based on how you do out there?”

“How I do?”

“Yes,” You ran your hands back up his chest to rest on his broad shoulders. “Let’s say if you go out there and completely screw up you’ll only get a kiss.”

To demonstrate, and because you really wanted to kiss him, you pressed your lips to his, quickly pulling away when he tried to deepen it.

“Or?”

“Or, you could get the ball close to home plate and earn some kisses down here.” Secondo groaned when your hand massaged his cock through his pants. You were quick, not wanting to get him too riled up so he couldn’t even walk out there. His growl when you let go of him had you smiling and reaching up to kiss the tip of his nose. “Does that sound fair so far?”

“I suppose.” When another brisk knock and shout for Papa came at the door again you winked and pulled away. “What do I get if I throw it across the plate? A strike, yes?”

“If you manage a strike, Papa, I’ll let you do whatever the fuck you want to me.”

You stared at each other for a handful of seconds, both of you breathing a little heavier. Secondo was the first to break eye contact, swiftly turning and striding towards the door. When he yanked it open he looked back your way, a small smirk playing at his lips. The stadium assistant trying to usher him onto the field was making worried noises but Secondo ignored him.

“Be ready.”

With that he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him. You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and sank down to sit on a bench. The distant roar of the crowd had you smiling and you began to pick some lint off your top.

“Play ball.”

“I don’t fucking believe it. Oh, oh right there.”

His thumb circled your clit again while two of his fingers curled inside of you, dragging along the spot that had you grinding down into them. Your clothes were already soaked from the warm water of the shower, sticking to both of you. Secondo’s cap was on the floor somewhere, along with his belt and your shoes. You couldn’t bring yourself to care that you didn’t have a change of clothes to leave the stadium in. All you cared about was that he kept doing that.

“What’s not to believe?” He pulled back far enough so he could take one of your breasts in hand, thumbing at your nipple through your top. “Didn’t think I could throw a strike?”

“No, no I did—oh, yes. Yes, please.”

“Which is it, dolcezza? No?” He smiled, tilting his head as he watched you lose your mind. “Or yes?”

“Yes, you bast–ah!”

Two fingers inside of you became three and he started to pump them in and out of you faster. Even over the falling water you swore you could hear them move through your wetness. In truth you had been wet all damn morning, the anticipation of seeing him in the baseball uniform again was too much. Your head fell back against the wall with a thunk and you watched him through half-lidded eyes. He looked equally a mess as you, the paint running down his face and disappearing down his neck. When he caught you looking he grinned and you were glad the wall was there to help hold you up.

“I’ve been practicing. Knowing you as I do I figured it was only a matter of time before you’d drag me to one of these stupid games again.”

“Baseball isn’t, ah fuck, stupid.”

“Demanding souvenirs and singing that stupid song about pretzels and Cracker Jacks.”

“It’s peanuts and Cracker Jacks you absolute snob–fuck, Papa please. I can’t—”

“You can. You can take this, my fingers fucking you.” He moved in close, the water dripping off his head onto yours, streaking your hair and face in black and white. “You’ll come on my fingers and then you’ll get on your knees and suck my cock.” He was grinning when you looked up at him sharply. “Whatever I wanted, remember?”

“Y-yes.”

“Bene. Molto bene.” He gripped your chin and dragged a thumb across your lips. “I want to come inside your pretty mouth before I come inside your cunt.”

His words coupled with his fingers knowing exactly what you needed had you coming almost immediately. The orgasm rippled through your body and you clung to him as his fingers continued to move inside of you, slower and slower. The water continued to beat down on you both as you took a few moments to collect yourself, eventually looking up to meet his eyes and to see him grinning once more.

“What is it?”

“On your knees, dolcezza.”

You took a quick breath and then obediently dropped, wincing when your knees touched the tile. When you glanced down to his belt quickly Secondo nodded and you went to work undoing it and opening his pants. His thick cock sprang forward, eager for your mouth. As your lips began to close around him he rested his hands on your head, stopping you from going any further. Confused, you pulled away, looking back up at him.

“Papa?”

“Just trying to think of the phrase. Ah,” He bit at his bottom lip like he was trying to hold in a laugh. You huffed, narrowing your eyes because you knew what he was going to say and you both loved and hated him for it. “Play ball.”

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

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#secondo x female reader #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #secondo fanfiction #secondo #oakie's writing

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nctsplug02 · 10 months

Note

Husband mark fucking his pregnant wife plss

[11:31PM]

GENRE: father mark, fluff and smut!

WARNINGS: dilf!mark, pregnant milf!reader, kissing, breast play, breeding, praising, dirty talking, spanking, shower sex, and just pure fluff!

AN| happy (late) father’s day! i know, i know. i’m late to this post BUT, you know me, im late to/with everything! anywho, i want to say thank both my daddies. my dad dad and my bf daddy. ANYWHO! happy father’s day to my dad who lives miles and miles away from me, i love you dearly and wish you the best without having the best daughter in the world next to you. and to my daddy who’s next to me in bed (resting after having good pussy), i love you too.

the door unlocks and you try your best to quickly scramble up from the couch with your pint of ice cream in one hand and a fork in the other.

you hear a deep sigh and a bag being dropped on the ground.

at last, you’re able to lift yourself off the couch and onto your feet.

being seven months pregnant with a big belly was a struggle.

“mark, hunnie?” you call out and walk over to the front door space. “mark— oh, jesus christ!” you jump when mark jumpscares you.

“shit— baby, you scared me— oh, my god. i’m so sorry, baby.” marks hands land on your lower back and the side of your belly.

you sigh and attempt to wrap your arms around mark but your belly keeps you two at a distance. mark giggles at your cuteness and pulls you in front of him, putting his arms above your belly and dipping his chin on your shoulder.

“i’m sorry, hunnie.” you rub his arms and rock side to side. “no, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to scare my pregnant wife— just didn’t expect us to go separate paths.” he laughs.

“it’s alright— anyways, how was work?” mark groans and drops his head back before dropping his forehead on the back of your head.

mark sighs, “i’m so pissed. it’s father’s day and they wouldn’t allow me to go home early so i could spend time with you and jae-mi. they said they’d let us leave early because they knew we had plans for father’s day but still were planning to keep us until midnight until taeyong spoke up and they finally just let us leave.”

you frown, “aw, i’m sorry, baby. i’m sorry you are under such a shitty company who doesn’t care about you. and, i’m glad taeyong spoke up. i genuinely was gonna be a karen tonight and march on over to your practice room and complain about you not being home and missing out father’s day— jae-mi was really upset that you weren’t coming home. every hour that went by, she asked and asked if you were coming home yet. it was so disappointing to tell her that you weren’t just yet.”

“not a karen,” mark laughs. “just a loving, worried, moody wife who cares about her husbands well being under my shitty company who doesn’t care about me at all.”

“but, what did you and jae-mi do for father’s day while i was out on schedules?” you smile and bite on his hand crossed in front of you. “we just baked a bit for you, y’know— made some strawberry shortcake cupcakes and brownies.”

“uhhh,” you jump and mark pauses. “let’s go to the kitchen and i’ll let you know else we did.”

you continue to tell mark about what you and your five year old did without mark while walking over to the kitchen.

“woah— woah! what the— woah!” mark gasps and lets go of you. “dude— what! yo, this is sick!” mark jumps excitedly as he sees the frosted (and topped off with cut up strawberries) cupcakes and powered brownies.

you laugh at how mark went from being pissed to being so hyper from seeing sweets.

“wait, that isn’t even the best part. look,” you go around the island and grab the drying white paper from the fridge. “look, look!” you hold up the paper and mark squeals.

“who made this?” mark says, grabbing the paper from you. “this is an absolute masterpiece, what the!” mark says, admiring the art piece.

you tuck your hands behind your back and tilt your head. “jae-mi made it for you. she said she wanted to make something for you that you’d like and.. she made.. a heart with the letter ‘M’ in it.”

“oh, right! she made more for you, look.” you grab the other pieces of paper from the dining table and you pass them to mark.

“aww, this is sick. where’s my little girl?” mark says looking through the art works.

one was a glitter-glued-on-written sign that said, happy father’s day to the best daddy, in blue glitter.

another said, #1 daddy, in pink glitter.

“your little girl is sound asleep in her bed.” mark evens the papers and sets them on the island. “well, i’ll tell her tomorrow morning that her art pieces for me were beautiful.”

“wow, those are really messy.” mark says looking down at his now glitter covered hands.

you giggle and nod. “you should’ve seen mine earlier— jae-mi and i had to take two showers.”

mark grabs you by the shoulder and slams your back onto his chest, wrapping his heavy arms around your shoulder. “now, what did mommy make for me?”

you laugh and shake your head. “mommy helped your little girl make you these nummy desserts.” you push out of his hold and you grab a cupcake from the tray, peeling away the cupcake liner and taking a big bite into the cupcake.

“mmm,” you moan, chewing and then licking your top lip to get the extra whipped cream. “hm, try it.” you hold the cupcake in front of marks mouth and mark licks his lips, leaning forward and then taking a bigger bite.

“holy shit— mm, that’s so good. oh my god.” mark moans and nods, jumping around while holding his crotch and shaking his head.

you laugh and continue to eat the cupcake until all that’s left is the liner.

“alright, baby. let’s go take a shower, yeah?” you whine and shake your head. “this’ll be my third shower of the day— i’m so tired of taking showers.”

you lean your chin on marks chest and you shut your eyes. mark mocks your whine and places his chin on your head.

“but, i’m stinky, baby. i’m all sticky and sweaty.” you push off mark and he interlaces hands with you. “then shower by yourself.” you say with sass and mark laughs. “but, i wanna shower with you.”

you tsk, “fine. but, you have to carry me to the bathroom. now, hurry, let’s go before i change my mind.”

mark quickly yanks his hands from yours and lifts you off your feet by carrying you bridal style. “mark!” you laugh unstably as mark bounces while running up to the bathroom.

“are you crazy?!” you laugh as mark kicks the bathroom door open and sits you on the counter. “what, you said to hurry up before you changed your mind, no?”

he was right, so you couldn’t be mad.

“just, tsk— start the shower will’ya!” you make an angry face and mark laughs.

mark walks over to the shower and turns on the shower, in an instant, hot water squirts out the shower head.

“get undressed, baby.” mark says, walking over to the closet next to the shower and pulling out clean towels.

“mm, why don’t you undress me yourself?” mark stops in his tracks and looks up at you, trying his best to hide the shy smirk.

you place both hands on either sides of your legs and you smirk. “i said why don’t you undress me yourse—?” you gasp as mark drops the neatly folded towels and jogs over to you, quickly grabbing at your oversized shirt that was honestly his from his side of the closet.

mark tosses the shirt behind him and goes for your loose jamies. he undoes the knot and tugs them off with needy grunts.

“mark,” you giggle while being tossed around on your ass. “don’t forget about yourself, you dummy.” mark nods.

marks pupils grow when seeing your huge breasts— thanks for your pregnancy that bumped you from a C cup to a double D cup.

his hands shake as they go to undo your bra. “geez, when did they get this big.” mark says as the push-up bra releases your mochi like breasts.

“they’ve been growing ever since my third month.” you say with creased eyes and an innocent grin as mark massages them in his hands.

“mark, stop,” you giggle as he tweaks your nipples. “you can do that in the shower but i’m getting cold and i can just feel the hot steam from the shower.”

“alright, alright.” mark frowns as he forces himself to pull away from your breasts and helps you down from the counter.

mark walks with you to the running shower after pulling off your panties and you turn around and you stop him.

“what?” he looks down at you.

“you’re still fully clothed, hunnie.” you point out while softly laughing.

mark looks down and laughs along with you. “i forgot,” he rubs his nape and sighs. “wanna undress me?” you tilt your head and sigh. “you’re a big boy, aren’t you?” you see the disappointment in marks eyes and you laugh even more.

“kidding, i’d love to, markie.” you pat his head when seeing him melt.

you pull up his shirt and you purposely run your hand down his toned abs just to make him flex for you. “you’re a cutie, markie.” you tap the tip of his nose and in a reflex for that, he scrunches his nose up.

you finish off by going on your knees and pulling down his sweats and his boxers all together.

“oh,” your eyes slightly cross when marks semi-hard cock bobs in your face. “markie,” you say in a teasing tone. “is this for me?” mark sticks the tip of his tongue out and scrunches up his face in embarrassment.

“let’s continue in the shower?” you ask and mark quickly nods.

mark helps you up off your knees and follows you into the shower like a lost pup.

you turn and give mark a kiss under the pouring showering which quickly leads to a hot and heated makeout sesh. “m—mark,” you attempt to call for him in the middle of the kiss but mark doesn’t stop, he’s addicted.

you somehow manage to pull away from marks needy kisses and you burst into a fit of laughter when seeing how swollen and red his lips are.

“geez, you needy needy man!” mark touches his lips and suddenly turns all red when feeling the swollen-ness.

“i just— it feels like i haven’t kissed you for so long, y/n.” you laugh, holding his forearms. “we kissed this morning before you went off to schedules.”

“not like that, we didn’t.”

“uh, yes we did. don’t tell me you don’t remember our quickie this morning.” mark takes a moment and then finally it clicks. “oooohhhh, right. dude, i totally forgot, i’m sorry.”

you shake your head while rolling your eyes. “whatever, just hurry up and fuck me.”

mark turns you and bends you perfectly so your hands can grasp the tiled walls. “don’t tell me what to do.” mark spanks you and you cry out.

“don’t be so harsh—!” mark spanks you once more. “i said don’t tell me what to do.” you look back when feeling his tip poke at your entrance.

“then don’t be so harsh— and stop teasing me, will’ya— nghh!” you moan when feeling mark ease into you.

“oh, fuck.” mark says, pinching your hip with one hand and using the other hand to hold himself up from leaning all his weight on you.

“baby,” mark groans. “you feel so good, baby. oh, my god.”

his pulsing cock pushes past your gummy walls and continues that many times. “mark,” your cheek pressed against the tiles and your hands laid flat against the tiles.

“harder, markie.” you grunt, grabbing his wrists from behind and crying out when mark starts ramming into your cunt.

“oh, mark!” you wail, moving yourself up onto your tip-toes.

marks face scrunches in pleasure as he feels you clench around him.

your hand reaches down and you begin to rub your nub that’d cried for attention. “f—fuck, i’m gonna cum soon. i’m s—so close.” you pant, rubbing quick circles on your clit and moaning like a wild animal.

you and mark both let out groans when feeling you squirt, the liquid runs down your hand and down marks cock.

“god— mark, i’m cumming.” you cry out to mark who continues to plow into you. “god, i’m cumming.” you whisper.

your knees wobble and buckle as your orgasm hits you. mark quickly holds under your belly and catches you, making sure he gives nice and slow thrusts while holding you up.

“cum, mark. i wanna feel your cum dripping out of my pussy.” you whisper to mark, slowly recovering from your orgasm.

“you want me to cum in your pussy? your pregnant pussy?” you nod, whining at how much more turned on you got just from hearing mark dirty talk to you.

mark does as you pleaded for and cums into your cunt.

his sloppy thrusts come to a halt and he stays balls deep in your cunt. marks cum dripping past his dick and falling straight on the tiled ground, it washes away from the powerful impact of the hot water being sprayed out the shower head.

“geez— i need to sit down.” you pant when mark pulls out of you— slowly.

mark lowers himself to the floor and sits you on his lap. “i love you, you know that, right?” mark chuckles. “of course i do. y’know that i love you too, right?” you nod tiredly. “to the moon and back?” you nod, again.

silence fills up the bathroom.

“so,” you start. “round two?”

“i’ll meet you in the bedroom in ten.” mark says, pushing you back onto your feet.

you leave the bathroom with a purple towel around you and you wait for mark.

ten minutes was too long and by the time mark was finished with his shower, you were sound asleep on his side of the bed with the towel still wrapped around your body.

#ash talks #nct imagines #nctsplug02 #nct scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop smut #anon #nct 127 #nct smut #kpop fluff #mark fluff #mark lee #nerdy mark #mark lee smut #mark smut #nct mark #superm mark

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gurugirl · 10 months

Text

A Balancing Act | Ch. 4*

Series Summary: Harry is a famous, rich, handsome, pop star and he’s been in therapy since his boy band days. When he meets Y/n, a beautiful and successful artist, he cannot take no for an answer when it comes to her. He’s determined to make her his even if he has to bend the rules a little at first.

Chapter Summary: Harry brings Y/n with him on his European tour but when Y/n decides she needs a break to figure things out Harry is beside himself. He's sure she's going to break up with him but she's sure he doesn't want the same things she does. When they finally talk will they both be on the same page?

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, dom/sub dynamic, angst, DDlg kink,

Word Count: 12.5k

Commissioned by @cinnamonone (thank you!! xoxo)

A Balancing Act Masterlist

A balancing act requires soft poise and harmonious alignment. The joining of differing needs and wants to acquiesce for a perfect, or nearly perfect outcome. One can’t have more than the other. All sides must be used to make a point. The leveling of opinion and decision coupled with the desire to satisfy the ideal effect.

“Put that down. It doesn’t do any good.”

Y/n looked up at Harry who’d placed his palm over her phone to cover her screen. She was trying not to obsess about the pictures of herself. There were so many. And now that she’d been seeing Harry for a few months and was on tour with him in Europe, the gossip abounded. It was wild how quickly everyone learned her name, her age, the fact that she had been married, where her art pieces were showing, and even what kind of car she drove. It was… a lot.

“I know but they’ve caught me in the worst outfit and angle and these comments-“

“Please don’t do that,” Harry spoke as he sat down next to her and slid the phone from her hands, “You’re a knockout. I’ve never once looked at you and thought otherwise. None of that matters. Okay? It’s us. You and me.”

She nodded as he pulled her into his side and kissed the top of her head, “I know. But still. I’m just not used to any attention. Not like this.”

“The best thing you can do is to ignore it and don’t look at the articles.”

But of course, that was easier said than done. Going to Europe with him had been a whirlwind. So many fans and friends and his family, day trips, flights, drivers, shopping, studio sessions, meetings, rushing, concerts, flowers, kissing, late-night talking, falling deeper for the man, and sex. There was a lot of sex.

It was stressful. It was fun, though, too. And she enjoyed spending time with Harry in his world but there was very little time for herself in her own world. She didn’t put paint, or ink on canvas the entire time she was with Harry in Europe. She never found the time, even though she had downtime, her inspiration waned. When Harry was in the studio writing, jamming, and making music she didn’t normally go. In fact, after going with him only twice she realized how awkward it was for her to be there. He was working with his band and his team. She was of no use there with him. She felt like she was just in the way. And she didn’t want to be the kind of girlfriend that followed him around like a puppy everywhere.

So she stayed in the hotel or in the villa or wherever they were staying depending on the leg of the trip. She’d venture out to go to cafes by herself, do some shopping, or just to walk around but it became a game of dodging people on the street who started to recognize her. Pictures and videos were taken without her consent. Later she’d see some of the photos in gossip articles and comments saying how she called the paps on herself because why on earth would anyone want a photo of her?

The hate came quickly. The vitriol for a woman that no one knew. Her social media accounts were stalked, screenshots taken and posted on other social media accounts about her and her art and what kind of person she might be based on old posts she’d long forgotten.

One old post on Instagram was of her out on her bachelorette party before she was married. It was a series of six photos. She was wearing something a little bit skimpy, but nothing too crazy. Most of the pictures showed her with a drink in hand, one of her dancing with some man she didn’t know, and the last one was of her the next morning with mangled hair and smeared makeup, a mimosa raised upward, and the words printed over the photo ‘hair of the dog’.

That one got a lot of attention. She was an alcoholic party girl, too fat to be wearing something so revealing, ugly, a slut (for dancing with a man), and the worst insult was “no wonder her ex divorced her”.

Yes, Harry’s fans learned that she had been married. Some knew that her husband had died (she wasn’t sure how they knew). But most assumed she was divorced because she didn’t post publicly about the tragic loss she endured. It was no one’s business, but for people who didn’t know her to make wild assumptions about what had occurred in her marriage was the most hurtful.

But on the other side of that were the fans that simply refused to believe he could be dating Y/n. Many were convinced Harry was either already in a relationship with an ex-band member from his boyband days or it was all for public relations. That her “team” and his “team” were in on something together for publicity. Because that would be the only explanation. Harry would never stoop so low as to date someone like Y/n. Someone who looked like Y/n. Couldn’t be. The Harry “they knew” would never.

Then of course there were those that thought she was simply using Harry’s fame to boost her own popularity in the art world. She was a leech, a sneak, conniving… It all hurt. She wasn’t sure she could stomach much more. And yes, it was true that interest in her art was boosted. Which she really didn’t like because it was more to the fact that “this is a piece of art painted by Harry Style’s girlfriend” rather than a painting that was pleasing to the eye and worth the price tag.

And Harry’s late nights at the studio and after a concert were tiresome. She had been catapulted into this strange reality with a famous man that she felt herself falling for. But how did she fit in with it all? She couldn’t see herself finding her place with him. It all felt very temporary. And the fact that she’d lost the inspiration to create herself was troublesome. The plan was that she could still paint and travel with him and they’d get to be together. She didn’t have to stay home to paint. It was supposed to be easy. But it wasn’t.

But as awful as all that was, she and Harry got closer. He’d arrive late to their bed, crawling over her and wrapping her up in his arms. Normally she’d wake up and nuzzle into him and sigh as they both fell asleep. Sometimes Harry wasn’t ready to go to sleep and he was very persuasive. If he wanted her, well, he had her. She looked forward to, with impatience, having sex with Harry.

Harry had changed her entire view on sex. It was nothing like she’d ever experienced before. Prior to Harry, sex was just sex. It was usually good. Sometimes she’d orgasm. But with Harry, it wasn’t just sex. It was the joining of two separate beings in an act that was vulnerable, exciting, novel, and made Y/n’s heart thrash about in her chest from nerves and thrill. She hadn’t realized how addicted she’d become to what he did. How he handled her body and her mind.

Usually, though, she and Harry had sex during the day. With the sun in the sky, curtains open, and people milling about. She had always been used to nighttime, lights out, on her marital bed sex. Harry liked to have sex anywhere. And he liked to see it all. All of her bits. He’d kiss and praise and then spank her if she tried to hide herself. They had fun together. Sex hadn’t ever been so fun. And she slowly started to see her body in a different light.

After his last show in Paris, she went to his dressing room, like she always did after a show, and he scooped her into his arms and kissed her broadly on the lips in front of everyone. He was hard.

A small gasp fell from her lips as she craned her neck back to look up at him in surprise. He only winked down at her, swiftly turned her around, and placed his hands on her shoulders. He was literally using her body to block his erection from view of his bandmates and the event staff.

When Mitch and Sarah finally made their way to their shared dressing room Harry told his assistant he didn’t need help and dragged her to his big couch after locking the door.

“Need you to take your panties off right now,” Harry spoke as he unbuttoned his pants and kept his eyes on her.

Y/n was wearing a cute maxi dress that was comfy and easy to dance in. She learned that she needed to wear clothes that were comfortable at Harry’s concerts because there was lots of dancing. But she also wanted to look cute because there was never a shortage of photos of her, no matter how much she hated that part. And if she wasn’t dancing she was a fake, a bad girlfriend, a fat blob. Oh, but of course, even if she did dance then that meant she was trying too hard, making herself look ridiculous, and then there was the odd comment about how she was too large to be attempting to dance at all.

She pushed those thoughts down as she lifted the bottom of her dress upward and slid her panties down her legs as Harry pulled a small belt with a ball at the center out of his bag. His pants were undone but his underwear was bulging at the crotch, his cock pressing outward with strain. He stood over her where she was sat on the couch and took her panties from her hands and then motioned for her to turn around, “Face the wall, get on your knees.”

“Harry what are you-“ her words turned into a yelp as he smacked her bottom.

“Do you fucking never learn?” He leaned in and spoke quietly, his voice deep and dark, “You’ll be getting paddled tonight for that mistake. Address me properly.”

Cursing under her breath she squeezed her eyes closed. She didn’t know what it was that didn’t allow her to so easily fall into just calling him Daddy like he wanted. She needed lots of reminders and her bruised bottom was proof of all of her forgetful little moments.

Part of her secretly loved it. Enjoyed the thrill of needing to be corrected and not simply giving in to him all the time.

“Sorry. Daddy. What are you doing?” Her tone clearly sardonic.

Harry raised his brows and shook his head, ignoring her mouthiness, “I’m going to fuck you against the couch and gag you so no one hears you. Now, turn around pretty girl.”

She pulled herself to her knees and turned so her palms were clutching the leather at the top of the couch and immediately felt Harry’s hands pulling her dress up so her bum was fully exposed and issued another sharp swat to her left side. She jolted in shock before turning to watch Harry behind her.

Harry brought his hands up, her panties in hand, and swiftly pulled the material over her eyes, tying the sides to the back of her head to keep it in place.

“Uh, those are expensive! You’ll stretch them!” She countered as the material hung over her sight.

Harry chuckled darkly and she felt his lips at her ear, “Who bought them for you, baby? I’ll buy you more. Don’t worry about it. Now, keep that mouth open.”

She opened her mouth quickly and felt the silicon ball take its place in her mouth, as he adjusted the buckle to the back of her head. She was unable to see or speak as she was pushed forward, her chest being pressed into the couch. Her bottom was still uncovered and she felt the cool air of the dressing room on her skin as Harry gently caressed her flesh down to where her legs were bent at her knees and over the backs of her calves and ankles before spreading her legs further apart.

“Keep your hands on the wall behind the couch, like this,” Harry moved his palms over her arms until he reached her wrists and pulled her arms out so she kept her hands flat on the wall, causing her back to arch the slightest.

“Good girl. So hot. Unbelievable baby. Daddy’s gonna have a taste now.”

She couldn’t see much or speak at all but she could certainly hear and feel. And the moment Harry’s tongue licked up through her crease her mind shifted into another gear. Harry had eaten her out in this position before. Behind her, his nose at her bum. At first, it gave her a lot of hesitancy, worried she smelled or tasted odd. But he always insisted she was delicious and he could eat her for dinner every night for the rest of his life. His reassurances had her at ease, but it still always gave her pause.

Harry moaned into her pussy as he licked and kissed. His hands were on her ass, spreading her apart as he softly licked, licked, licked… wet and hot from clit to ass, from clit to ass, clit to ass… He spat over her and stuffed two fingers into her cunt and she squealed into the gag, the sound hardly heard in the room. Harry chuffed a laugh at her muffled noises.

Soon she was soppy and achy. Harry noticed how she was pushing herself back into him. That’s where he liked to get her. To the point she was seeking her own pleasure. Where she was so worked up she wanted more.

Harry sat back and stood from the couch and pulled his cock out from his underwear. He pressed his hips into her bottom and brushed his hands over her waist, pushing her dress higher, “Daddy needs his cock milked now. So fucking horny for you, sweet girl.”

She grunted in relief when he pushed into her. It was always a welcome moment. To have his dick inside of her, parting her insides and nudging into her cervix. He was curved in such a way that his wide cock pushed into her front wall on each stroke anytime she was in this position while he was fucking into her.

She kept her hands on the wall as he pounded into her and she steadied herself the best she could but Harry was strong and he always went in with such force that it caused her a good jolt forward on each snap of his hips. Delicious.

When his long fingers wrapped around the front of her neck he squeezed the sides and slowed his plunges, “Wish everyone could hear us. Could hear how filthy your pussy gets when I fuck it. How creamy you are. Wish they could hear how it sounds to have my cock slipping deep into your wet hole.”

Y/n felt her cheeks burn and her head get foggy under the pressure of his fingers on her throat. His thrusts increased again and the couch rocked under them into the paper-thin wall Y/n used to keep herself held up.

A knock at the door and a muffled voice from behind had Harry slowing down but never stopping, “M’busy! Be out in a bit!”

She couldn’t hear whatever was said from behind the door because her ears were ringing. Harry’s cock inside of her gave her tunnel vision. She almost didn’t care if anyone heard at that point. Her body felt so good, her pussy being worked open and split down the middle, her guts rearranged, her ass smacked, throat choked.

“Fans want me out there, but I needed you first didn’t I baby?” Harry’s thrusts were sloppy and harsh as he panted his words, “Daddy wants to fuck his come into you so you’ll be out there with everyone while my sperm drips out of your pussy and down your legs. My dirty little come hole. But that’s what Daddy’s little girl likes, isn’t it? Fuck…” Harry looked down at where he was being gripped by Y/n. Her tight little pussy working its magic on him.

Y/n’s telltale signs were beginning to show. Her thighs were shaking and her back was arching and she was grinding herself onto him each time he’d pull back. She was going to come.

Harry choked out a loud groan into the room, “Fuck! I’m gonna come!”

He reached down to rub her clit just as he began to pour into her pussy. He clenched his teeth and moaned into her ear. With the angle he needed to reach her clit his chest was pressed into her back, his stiff and sharp movements were forceful into her and she felt her own orgasm follow moments later. Thanks to his long fingers that knew just what to do and where to press to get her off.

Drool slid down her chin and to her clavicle as she came. The noise of the couch still creaking under her knees as Harry continued pushing into her increased in sound.

Harry hissed and moaned and kissed the back of her neck as he kept himself stuffed inside of her as she spasmed around him, squeezing his cock of all he had and letting it drain into her. A beautiful symphony of sex in the dressing room.

Harry laughed as he removed the gag and the panties from her face. She had small marks that dug into her skin from the fabric of the panties and the leather of the belt.

“God you’re gorgeous. Gonna go out there with me to meet the fans with my come slipping out of your cunt all night? Hmm?” Harry teased as she straightened her dress out and caught her breath.

And of course, that’s exactly what happened. She walked around and met some fans. Most didn’t know who she was. Some knew her as the girl that had been spending time with Harry. Others joked that she was following him around and that he didn’t want her there.

One pretty young thing, probably still in college, went from having her picture taken with Harry to making a snide remark to Y/n, “I love how you don’t care how you look when you dance.”

To which Y/n replied, “I’m just having fun out there like everyone else,” as she shook her hand (which she hadn’t yet washed after being fucked into oblivion) and felt Harry’s orgasm dripping down her thigh.

There was something so poetic about that moment. The secret that she and Harry shared. The reason why he was 20 minutes late to greeting his fans backstage. And Y/n was the bearer of said secret. Literally, since his come was still inside of her.

And that was just one of many times Harry fucked her in his dressing room. It became a regular thing. He’d gag her to keep her quiet but anyone who stood close enough to the door could hear him moaning and the sounds of skin smacking together and couches rocking. But no one ever said anything. It was Harry’s show after all.

There was one time when they went to an event. The lovely space was packed with people and the table they sat at was mostly Harry’s crew. Jeff and Tom were there and some others. All were people Y/n had gotten to know on some level.

And as per usual, Harry was horny. Y/n had gotten used to his extremely high libido and surprised herself even when she matched him in it. She hadn’t realized she was this way until Harry came along.

She was wearing a custom dress. Nothing like she’d ever had the chance to wear before. She’d worn lovely dresses and her wedding dress, she thought, would have been the nicest article of clothing she’d ever wear. But this dress… this dress was absolutely superior to anything she’d ever laid on her body. She loved it. It fit her so well and flattered her curves and made her feel pretty.

“Want to bend you over this table and spank you so hard right now. Tear this dress off you and make you ride my cock right here at the table,” Harry spoke into her ear as their plates of food were being placed in front of them.

Y/n just smiled and nodded as she listened to him tell her what he wanted to do. That was something she also had started to get used to. He’d do things like this in public and it startled her at first, but after some time she started to enjoy it.

When everyone began eating Harry lowered his hand to her thigh and pulled her dress up. No one could see what he was doing from under the table but Y/n felt it. The material of the dress was slowly lifted until he’d pushed the fabric up enough that he could smooth his palm up between her plush thighs and tickle her pussy with the tips of his fingers.

Y/n let out a gasped laugh and leaned forward before turning to look at Harry in surprise. He only smirked back at her and lifted his brows, “You okay, my dear?”

And Harry usually got his way. If he wanted something he could pretty much always get it. Just like how he wanted her to spread her legs wider so he could have access, she gave it to him. Just like how he wanted to slide two fingers into her cunt, she let him.

To everyone at the table, Harry was holding her thigh. Nothing more. He continued to chat and make jokes as he softly fucked his fingers into Y/n’s pussy.

And the thing about this was that he couldn’t apply much pressure, if any, to her clit, so he fingered her for nearly the entire duration of their dinner. His hand was wet between her legs as he continued slow, meaningful thrusts of his fingers into her.

She was on edge. So absolutely wrecked and worked up that Sarah interrupted the conversation at the table, “Y/n. Are you okay?”

Her chest was rising and falling fast. Harry paused his movements and looked over at his lover and realized, she was indeed a mess. Had barely touched her food when everyone else had just about finished and was panting and sweating. He smiled.

“Oh! Yeah. I… probably should,” she paused to hold back her gasp as Harry pushed his thumb over her clit, “go to the bathroom. Real quick! I’ll be right back!”

Harry was forced to remove his hand from between her thighs and she pushed her skirt down and quickly walked to the hallway where she knew the restrooms were.

Harry excused himself from the table with the excuse to check on her.

Y/n was already rubbing at her clit to make herself come in the stall when Harry barged into the bathroom, “Y/n. Come out, baby. Let me take care of you.”

Her eyes widened and she was quick to walk out of the stall. She needed him badly, “Please, your cock, Daddy,” she said as she lifted her dress and Harry pushed her to lean over the sink and pulled his cock out on her request. He was already hard. Fingering her and feeling her clench around him as she grew wetter and wetter each minute had done him in.

Her panties were ruined. He pushed the drenched material to the side and plunged into her softly as they both moaned, “Rub that pretty little clit for Daddy, baby. Get yourself off.”

It was probably the quickest fuck they’d ever had. Four minutes tops. Y/n was already on fire as her orgasm burst from her core and Harry held her cheeks apart so he could watch his cock, covered in her arousal, slip in and out, in and out until she was coming and shaking and gasping.

White gobs of her come stuck at his base as he continued fucking into her deep and he finally came, filling her to the brim with his come. He pulled out to watch himself drip from her pussy and then pushed himself back in to keep his sperm inside of her where it belonged, “Holy fuck, baby. Your pussy is incredible. Just taking my come like it’s nourishment. Fucking Jesus Christ.”

It felt so good to have Harry inside of her after nearly a half hour of slow, sensual torture with his fingers.

And as they both enjoyed, Y/n dripped of him when they went back to the table to join their friends. No one knew but Harry and Y/n and that was half the fun.

So, yeah, sex with Harry was incredible. Exciting. He never let her feel like she was lacking. He loved using tools on her. Tying her up, clamping her tits and her skin, toys, spanking, spreader bars, cuffs… She’d gotten a taste of what he liked and she loved it all.

And she was pretty sure she loved Harry too. He was the sweetest man. Very attentive and gentle, thoughtful, funny, and honest. But of course, when they were in bed he was dominant and loved to put her in her place but that only added to how much she really liked him. The duality of his nature was exciting to her. And she began to feel more comfortable with her body around him. He never once made her feel bad about her size. He clearly loved every bit of her chub.

So after their whirlwind European trip she was back in Illinois at home and trying to paint while Harry was in LA in the studio working on music and other business endeavors he’d started. They talked every night. She thought the distance would be good for her to focus on her work again but it was like she was blank. Her thoughts were only filled with Harry and what he was doing and the articles with her pictures and comments…

One evening, though, she did have a spark of inspiration. She began sketching out her canvas and mixing colors and finally, after nearly a two-month dry spell, put her brush against the canvas and began to paint. It felt good. She was suddenly struck with the need to create. Hours of building a piece with color and space and lines felt like things had felt before she met Harry.

Her fingers were green and her overalls were splattered and soiled from linseed oil and various hues she’d used on her work when her phone rang. Looking up at the clock she realized it was already 9 pm. Which was the time Harry normally called her every night before he went to the studio (it was 7 pm in LA).

She wiped her hands down her clothes and cursed as she rushed to grab the phone before the call went to voicemail.

It was a Facetime call because of course it was.

“Hello?” She rang out and adjusted the screen so she could see Harry and he could see her. She tried smoothing out her hair and wiping the smudges from her face but there was little she could do to repair her current appearance.

“Hi, baby. I miss you! How are you today?” Harry spoke, his face very close to the phone, and then as he stilled himself and the screen became clear she realized he wasn’t at home. A club perhaps. Maybe someone’s house. Definitely not the studio.

“I’m good. Was just painting a bit. Finally got a spark of creativity tonight. How are you? What are you up to right now?”

Harry sighed and grinned widely, she could tell he seemed a tiny bit tipsy, “I’m at a party and I’ve been telling everyone about you. Wish you were here so you could meet everyone. We’re just chilling, had a couple drinks, then I’m going into the studio in about an hour. Gonna be an all-nighter.”

Y/n nodded and smiled. She wasn’t surprised by any of this. He normally got into the studio late and stayed until 3 or 4 am. He was most creative at that time he told her once.

“Sounds fun. Wish I was there too.”

Just then a young woman nudged into Harry’s shoulder and came in to view on the screen, “Y/n!! It’s you! I’ve heard so much about you!”

She was clearly also tipsy. And just as she was about to respond to the mystery woman she watched as the girl threw her arm over Harry’s shoulder and licked her pink tongue up his neck before kissing it. And it wasn’t just a peck of a kiss. It was quite sensual in fact. As if she were trying to give him a hickey.

Harry laughed and pushed at the girl, prying her arm from him and the girl waved her hand at the video just before moving elsewhere.

“Sorry, Jess is clingy tonight,” Harry smiled and licked his lips.

“Oh is she? Has she been trying to give you a hickey all night then?” Y/n couldn’t help the bit of jealousy that coursed through her. She figured at that point she could trust him. He was a big flirt and she knew this about him. He gave off the wrong impression to people all the time. She’d seen women trying to shoot their shot and he would eventually have them back off but many of them never assumed he was in a relationship. She’d even overhead some women (when she was backstage after concerts) bragging about how they kissed Harry or how they thought they had a shot because he'd been staring at them, which turned out to not be true of course. But it didn’t make the sting feel better.

“No. No, of course not, baby. I wouldn’t let her do that. Only you’re allowed to mark me up.”

“But she’s allowed to lick you and kiss you?”

Harry paused and suddenly the screen was blurry as he appeared to moving through the space to somewhere different.

“Wait, hold on, Y/n.” The screen went dark but she could hear shuffling and some voices until the video showed his handsome face again but now he was outside.

“Please, baby. That was not… she’s been flirting with me a little but it’s all in fun. She’s just a friend. I would never do anything to ruin what you and I have. You know that. God, I wish you were closer so I could tell you in person and see you after the studio. Wake up to you, make love to you…” he trailed off as he spoke but kept his eyes on the screen, his face set in defeat.

“I know how you are, Harry. So I get it. But doing that right in front of me? Kind of tacky. Was she trying to make me jealous? If so, I’d say she’s not a friend.”

Harry groaned and leaned his back to a bench and nodded, “I’ll stay away from Jess. She’s just been finding me all night. I mean, I’ve known her for years so… but you’re right. Sorry.”

Y/n nodded and flattened her lips together. She really hated this. Hated feeling jealous when she figured it wasn’t necessary, hated not being with him, hated how famous he was and how everyone wanted him…

After his call with Y/n, he was careful to dodge Jess. And he hadn’t really been paying much mind to her to be quite honest. Yes, she’d been kind of all over him but he was used to that. Except now he needed to think about his girlfriend and what she might think and how it could be perceived in public. Not that any of the photos from this particular party would come out to the public – it was exclusive and contracts were signed promising privacy and respect of others.

Jess was a friend of Tommy’s and she was often invited to the parties like this and so Harry had gotten to know her over the years. She was always flirty but the question that Y/n brought up was valid. Was Jess trying to make Y/n jealous? It was inappropriate for her to kiss his neck like that when he thought about it with a clear head. Even if he wasn’t on the phone with his girlfriend, that was too intimate of a gesture to be innocent. He couldn’t allow things like that anymore. Not if he wanted to keep Y/n happy. And he didn’t want those kinds of intimate touches from anyone else these days. He missed his girlfriend.

His studio session was productive. He got a lot of writing done and set some vocals down for recording too. But he was still thinking about Y/n. Thinking about how they got off the phone and he’d apologized and she said she was fine but he knew she might not really be. They were too far apart and the distance was a problem. Harry was used to some distance in relationships. It was part of the package that he came with. But he hated it with Y/n more than ever.

He was in love with her. Deeply and madly. In fact many of the songs he started to write after meeting her had something to do with her in one way or another. He couldn’t get her off his mind. He’d dated around and had a couple of serious relationships in the past, but no one left a mark on his heart like Y/n had.

. . .

“I’m feeling like I need her with me all the time. But when I offered to fly her out and have her stay here with me in LA she said she thought the distance would be good. I’m going crazy, Pat. I don’t know if she is starting to think about breaking up with me or what. I don’t want her to leave me. But she’s been so aloof lately.”

Pat shifted her leg to cross over her opposite and listened. The man wouldn’t stop talking about Y/n. Every one of their sessions had been dominated by discussions about his new relationship. Harry was sensitive deep down. He had his shit together and he was many times nonchalant about dating and matters of the heart in public, but Pat knew the truth. He was sweet and his heart was delicate.

“Just let her sus everything, Harry. You can’t push her and you know that. She’s probably going through some growing pains with you. You’re uber-famous and everyone loves you and to her, it probably feels like she’s just your girlfriend who gets a lot of mean things printed about her. It’s very likely overwhelming. Maybe she’s trying to get her head on straight and figure out what’s best for her.”

“But what if she learns that she’s better off without me?”

Pat chuckled, “What if she does? Would you still want to force her to be with you?”

Harry sighed deeply and frowned, “I guess I wouldn’t want to make her do anything she didn’t like. But that’s the thing. I know she and I have something special. When we’re together it’s like everything just makes sense. I don’t want her to let all the awful things people make up about her be how she makes her decision. Because what she and I have is incredible.”

“But you’re seeing this from your point of view. Not hers. Give her space if she needs it. Keep open communication but let her decide what she can handle.”

He didn’t like the idea that Y/n would decide he wasn’t worth it. He’d finally found the one he thought was his soulmate. The one he loved and wanted to be with for the rest of time, but now she was stepping back. Putting more space between them than he liked.

And when he offered to come to her she declined that suggestion as well. Stating it would be better to be apart for a bit. Which indicated to Harry she was done or at least considering that idea. But he couldn’t understand it! How could she be done with him? He was so far from done with her. He’d never want to be “done” with her. He wanted to marry her, have babies with her, take her with him everywhere, curl into her body, and let his skin sink into hers for all eternity.

He partly blamed the night he talked to her when Jess made her unfortunate appearance and partly the fans. Harry loved his fans. He enjoyed interacting with them most of the time. He loved the attention and the enthusiasm they gave him. He loved creating for them. But they were the ultimate cock block if there ever was one. Every relationship he’d tried to maintain while being famous had, in the end, been affected deeply by his fans. Social media was brutal as it was, but when fans got ahold of the articles and posted pictures and got “involved” it only led to awful things. Many times social media stirred the pot but the fans kept the lies and the assumptions (conspiracy theories even) flying and going on for longer than it was necessary. But it’s not like he could just drop his fans. They were what his empire was built on. He wouldn’t be doing what he was doing without them. It was all a balancing act.

“I think I’m gonna go see her. Just to talk face-to-face. I can’t go on not knowing what’s really happening and doing it over the phone is not giving me the whole picture.”

“Harry… I think it would be wise to keep her wishes in mind. You are a convincing and charismatic man and so for you to go to her in person could interrupt her rational critique. You could just be doing more harm to the relationship this way. It would be a hindrance more than anything. You might just be prolonging the inevitable and don’t you think it’s better to let things take their course naturally? You don’t always have to make all the moves and sway the outcome. This isn’t a business. This is love and relationship stuff. It doesn’t follow the same rules.”

. . .

Y/n had been feeling pretty good. Her mind was clear and her inspiration was at an all-time high. It had been a month since she’d seen Harry in person but they still spoke almost every night. She still loved him. She missed him, but the time apart felt necessary. Felt like she could grasp reality again.

But one thing was certain with the distance. It was that she couldn’t take not seeing him and touching him. She was thriving, but she was beginning to miss him more than she thought she would. Instead of getting easier, it got harder. Her nights would be spent thinking of him, what it would be like living with him, kissing him, marriage, babies… But she wasn’t sure if he was feeling like they were headed in that direction. Because if he didn’t feel like any of that was in their future then the relationship should be stopped. It couldn’t continue to jog along on the same path that it had been. They needed to progress and she needed to know he was committed to her and that he felt the same way. But as it was, their relationship was very good, it just wasn’t the kind of relationship that felt like it could move beyond what it was. She needed to tell him and be honest about what she wanted. Marriage, babies, 100% commitment… But what would happen once she told him all of this? Would he run for the hills? It could very well be the end of them.

. . .

She had insisted that he not come to the gallery where her work was displayed. It was in New York City and he begged to come. He told her he would take some time off before the next leg of his tour began. Told her that he had a beautiful spot he always stayed at and she could be with him and he��d take her out to his favorite restaurant in the city… but she said no. And Pat told him to listen to her.

Which was hard for him. Harry didn’t like being told no, and normally, no didn’t matter much (of course depending on the situation). Normally, he’d just go anyway and surprise her and dote on her, and in his mind, she’d be so happy and they’d have amazing sex and things would go back to how they were before she pushed for distance. But that’s not how it went.

Instead, she had a weekend in New York City without him. They spoke every night and she told him everything and he pleaded with her some more to let him come to her but she still said no.

On Sunday when they got off the phone Harry was beside himself. She had been too busy to really talk. She was getting on a flight to go back home so he understood why but that didn’t mean he was okay. He cried. He felt his heart drop and felt her slip away. She didn’t want to see him, she didn’t want his support, and she wouldn’t go to see him either… so what was left?

He’d been good and paying attention to, heeding Pat’s advice. He knew she was right. He knew he couldn’t force her hand in this. But God did it hurt. If only she’d let him visit her she’d see how good they were together. Nothing else mattered.

But he needed to know what she wanted. Because it didn’t feel like she wanted the same thing. They needed to talk, face-to-face, and he needed her to be direct. To rip off the band-aid once and for all. Then he could begin to heal and try to get over her.

When she called him the following day it was unexpected because it was much earlier than they usually had their calls and it was just a call, not a Facetime chat.

“Hi. How are you?”

Harry had had a lump in his throat for the last few days with his thoughts about her. About how she was going to end it. About how she didn’t really want to put in the effort to be with him. That he wasn’t worth it. That his fame and his fans were too much.

“I’m good. You’re calling a bit early. What’s going on?”

“I just had some really good news! A curator bought ten of my paintings and will be hosting an exhibit at David Kordansky and I’ve been invited to go as a guest of honor of sorts, amongst the other artists! It’s going to be all these big names. Oh my god, I’m so excited!”

Harry smiled widely, “Baby, I’m so proud of you. When is the exhibit?”

“It’s next weekend! And you know David Kordansky, right?”

“Uh… no. Sorry. Should I?”

Y/n giggled into the phone, “Oh… it’s just one of the biggest and most popular galleries in Los Angeles.”

Harry’s eyes went wide, “Here? You’re coming here?”

“Yes! God, I’m so excited! You’re the first person I’ve told and I just got the news right before calling you. So, I’m still processing it all. But yeah! And a bonus is that maybe you can come! If you want. If you can!”

“Absolutely. I’ll tell everyone I’m booked next weekend. Spending it with my girl.”

She sighed into the receiver with a big grin on her face, “I can’t wait to see you, Harry.”

. . .

Y/n was properly nervous. She had been trying to keep her distance from Harry but it had sort of backfired. She wanted to feel out the situation without his influencing nature and his hot body, and those pink lips pecking at her, his deep voice luring her to see it his way. The longer she was away the more she realized that she could barely breathe without him. She was so far gone for the guy that the distance only made her ache. Yes, she got a bit of her creative spark back, but she felt like that was more of an internal issue than it was to do with Harry.

But her nerves weren’t because she was going to see him after over a month. The nerves were because she needed to confront him with her real feelings and find out if he was on the same page. She had to know once and for all what he wanted. And if any of her ideas of where the relationship should head weren’t on Harry’s radar, well, it had to be over. They couldn’t continue like they were. It was perpetual limbo. Purgatory. She loved him and if she were younger with more time to spare she’d enjoy traveling with Harry and just having fun without expectation of where their final destination would land them. But as it was, she wanted to start having babies in the next few years. And if Harry didn’t then she’d need to start over and begin dating around. And that takes time. So she needed to get a move on. Find someone that wanted the same things she did. If that wasn’t Harry.

She had planned for the worst. All the scenarios in her mind led to them breaking up. She couldn’t imagine that Harry would be willing to settle down with her. He had the whole world at his fingertips. And she was just a girl from the Midwest. She really didn’t imagine that they had much more left to pick at. The pages stopped turning. The well had run dry. It was fun while it lasted.

Harry had his driver take him to the airport to pick her up. She told Harry she could just take a taxi but he didn’t want to miss a single moment with her. Wanted to see her the second she arrived in LA. And he was there. Waiting for her just as he said he would.

He scooped her into his arms and felt tears prick at his eyes, “Oh my god. Y/n… I missed you so much.”

She felt her heart swell and lurch with his arms around her and his lips on her forehead. Right in front of everyone in the airport. Photos were snapped and Harry didn’t care. He looked down at her and she noticed his eyes were glossy, “Harry…” she thumbed at his cheek, “Are you okay?”

Harry sniffed and the tip of his nose was red as he nodded, “I am now.”

She’d been to his house before they went away to Europe. They spent two days having sex and just staying in enjoying one another. Those two days were her favorite memories with Harry. Not that she hadn’t absolutely enjoyed everything else they’d done together and where they spent their time but there was something really special about being in his lovely home doing nothing with him and eating some of the best food she’d ever had (a combination of Harry’s cooking, delivery from some of the best restaurants in LA, and leftovers from a fancy catered party that Harry skipped but had requested two large bags full of yummies dropped off for them).

And the moment Harry had her in his house this time around, they were tearing clothes off and making love on his big bed. Harry didn’t bother with the clamps or ties or the belt this time. He just wanted her. Wanted to show her himself and how much he loved her. In fact, he planned on telling her he loved her soon. He needed her to know how he felt.

And the irony of it all was that Y/n was thinking the same thing. She wanted to tell him how she felt. He needed to know the truth and she needed to know where he stood. But they were both hesitating and it didn’t come out quite the way they intended.

“I think we should talk a little, Harry. I’ve had something on my mind for a bit. It’s… kind of important.”

They were both still naked lying on his bed when she blurted it out. Harry felt his stomach drop. He’d been constantly on edge that she was going to break up with him and he didn’t know if his heart could handle it.

So instead of talking he sat up quickly and got off the bed, “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s talk. Um, I need to take a shower first… and then uh… we can talk. Yeah.”

Harry cried in the shower. Preparing himself for the worst. Trying to get his emotions out and let his body soak in the warm water and calming scent of his shampoo. He was a mess. And he assumed it was over.

And to Y/n, him hopping out of bed like that and running off when she said they should talk, that move was his answer. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to hear her truth. He had no intention of being committed or serious with her. He only wanted sex and fun. And that was great, but she was closing in on 30 and it was time to settle down and find love. And it was clear to her now, that Harry didn’t want that. Or at least not in the way she did.

She paced in his bedroom for a bit after dressing herself but when he was still showering, twenty minutes later she went downstairs and paced in his living room. She saw a bouquet of flowers near the front door at the table with a card in it and she automatically plucked the card out to read. It hadn’t occurred to her that she would be reading anything that could upset her. But she was caught off guard by the message.

“Let’s get dinner tonight, H. I miss you endlessly. Love – O”

She flipped the card over and there was nothing on the back except the name of the florist. No date anywhere. She didn’t know when these were delivered or if he’d had dinner with his ex. Her heart sank and her stomach felt heavy.

She slowly made her way back up the stairs and realized the shower was off. Harry was done. She found him standing on his balcony looking out over his garden. He hadn’t even bothered to find her. To see what she wanted to talk about that she said was important. He clearly didn’t care.

He took a 35-minute shower and then went out to chill on his balcony.

She considered just leaving without a word. Just calling an Uber and leaving for good. Getting a hotel room and forgetting about it all.

But now she was pissed.

She opened the balcony door and Harry was startled when he heard her approaching.

She laughed as she shook her head, “Forget I was even here huh?”

Harry scrunched his brows and shook his head but before he could respond she continued, “That’s okay. I get it. You and I aren’t on the same page. You’re having fun and you’re free and getting invited out to dinner with your ex, and-“

“Wait! What? I don’t-“

Y/n put her hand up, “You heard me. It’s okay. We never made any sort of promises or real commitments. Never said we’d wind up married or together in the end. You’re at your best and you deserve fame and fun and freedom. I’m only holding you back.”

Harry put his hands on her shoulders and shook his head, “No. Y/n… this was what I was worried about that you were-”

“That I want a real relationship? I’m almost 30. I can’t be playing around and traveling the world when I don’t know what you even want. And you just made it clear how disinterested in my concerns you really are-“

“Y/n. Please. What are you-“

“Stop. All you do is tell me what I should think and what I should do. You’re too… you pressure me to see things your way and you never listen. So now you listen to me.” She swallowed to gain her composure and looked up at him squarely so he understood how serious she was, “I can see now clearly, you have no interest in making a family with me. In being with me. You’re just having some fun. And that’s okay. But our fun has come to an end. I can’t go on like this anymore. I need to find someone who wants what I want. Someone who isn’t stuck on their ex and someone who will tell the whole world about me and not pretend that I’m just someone you hang out with.”

Harry shifted on his feet. He hadn’t expected this. In all the scenarios he ran in his mind she was breaking up with him and she didn’t want to be with him and he wasn’t worth it. But she was saying she wanted commitment. He smiled and opened his mouth but Y/n scoffed.

“See? You’re not even taking this seriously! Here I am telling you I’m breaking up with you and you’re smiling! You couldn’t give a shit!”

Harry’s smile fell from his face, “No I was… You’re breaking up with me? Y/n please-“

She pushed him off of her and backed away, “Go and enjoy dinner with Olivia or whoever. I’m out of here.”

Harry ran after her, “No! You can’t leave me! Please that’s not what happened. I didn’t even see her. And if you’d just listen-“

Y/n stomped her foot and turned to face the tall man. She pointed her finger at this chest, “I’m done listening. We’re done. You broke my heart.”

Harry shook his head and followed behind Y/n the whole way to the front door, pleading with her to stop so they could talk but she continued to cut him off.

“Stop! You don’t get to push me into making a decision anymore. It’s over.”

She gathered up her bags and shakily pulled her phone out to bring up her Uber app to call for a car. She was thankful all of her bags were still near the front door.

She rushed out of the house and Harry felt like he was going mad. She wouldn’t let him talk and explain and tell her that he wanted what she wanted. Every time his mouth opened she yelled for him to stop. Screamed even. Had he been so insufferable that this was how she reacted to him?

So he watched with tears in his eyes and his heart in his hands as she loaded her things into the Uber and left him standing at his gate.

He didn’t know what he would do. What could he do? He needed to let her cool off and then he’d go to her and have a conversation. He’d make her see that they’d been on the same page all along.

He called Mitch to get advice.

Mitch asked him why he hadn’t called Pat instead but Harry insisted his best friend would give him the best and most brutal advice, while also supporting him and wishing him luck. Which is actually what happened.

“Go and surprise her at the gallery. Do something ridiculously dramatic and then declare your love for her to everyone in the room. Something like that. I don’t know man. I think you two will work it out. You’re so good together. I think she just needed some time, ya know.”

Harry sighed, “Pat’s going to hate that. But I’ve got to do it, though, right? Do something absolutely nuts to get her to listen to me.”

. . .

Y/n had the worst, absolutely the most horrible, awful evening. She bawled her eyes out and barely slept. Harry hadn’t even tried reaching out to her. Not that she really wanted that. She half expected it. But it only solidified everything to her. She imagined he probably slept like a baby.

The following day was the exhibit. She was not prepared. Not mentally anyway. Her tears had barely dried by the time she was entering the gallery. She put on a happy face and forced herself to talk and smile. But she only felt the dread of what had happened the day before.

The curator greeted her, bringing a glass of champagne for her to sip, “I’m amazed by your work. I think your collection fits in so nicely here. But you know I’m holding on to all your pieces until one day someone offers me a million each for them,” he laughed and Y/n smiled. She doubted that would ever happen.

The evening should have been amazing. She was meant to have Harry with her and it was supposed to be a big night for her. Something that could potentially change the trajectory of her career. But Y/n wasn’t happy. Her exciting moment was clouded by thoughts of Harry and how she loved him but now it was over.

Through the doorway opposite the entrance was a small bar area. Guests could go get their drinks and then head back into the gallery. But there were a few bar tables and some stools. Y/n had been eyeing it all night. A moment to get away and sit by herself for a while.

The room was darker and quieter, even though it was open to the main gallery. The small high-top tables had four tall, cushioned stools around each. The only person in the bar was the bartender.

“Hi. Can I have a glass of chardonnay?” Y/n leaned into the bar and her eyes settled over the array of colorful bottles lined up behind the young lady who stood at the bar.

The young woman smiled, “Sure. Anything in particular? Would you like to see what I’ve got?”

“Not really. This is going to sound so bad, but just the cheapest one.”

Y/n dug into her small clutch to pull out her phone card and then waited as the young lady poured a glass of Y/n’s cheap glass of wine.

“Your art is excellent. I’m a big fan.” The woman looked over her shoulder as she plumbed the top of the bottle with the cork and placed it back into the small fridge below the counter.

“You know my work?” It was not expected. She didn’t think the bartender would know the artists by their faces alone.

“Yes! Of course. I usually get to know who the artists are that have their pieces here. Yours is outstanding.”

She felt her face get warm from the odd feeling she always got when someone loved her work and recognized her. She still hadn’t gotten used to that feeling yet but she enjoyed it nonetheless.

When she took the glass she thanked the lady for the wine, “And, thank you for the kind words too. That means a lot to me.”

She took a deep breath and sipped her wine in the empty space as she attempted to let her bad mood dissolve. She knew it was impossible to let it go completely. Her wound was so fresh. She’d just gotten her heart broken and that would take some time to grapple with. But she knew she could be okay because she’d dealt with and come through the worst kind of tragic loss anyone can imagine. Losing Robert devastated her. For a very long time. She’d only gotten to a place where she felt she was ready to find love again. And her short time with Harry was nothing in comparison to what she’d suffered. So yeah, she’d been through far worse. She’d be okay.

The music that played in the small space was slow and the tune sounded a lot like an old Foo Fighters song. But it was all instrumental and she couldn’t be sure. She pulled out her cell phone and decided to text her sister. Catch up a bit. Feel something sweet and nostalgic to get her mind off of her sorrows.

She smiled when her sister texted back with a picture of the kids.

She looked up and paused to listen closely to the music playing again. Yeah. It was an instrumental version - definitely Foo Fighters. Everlong. That was the song! She snapped her fingers and smiled again as he looked back at the picture of her nieces.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Y/n. This is for you.” The bartender laid an envelope down on the table. It had her name written on it.

This felt very reminiscent of-

She looked around the room and out into the gallery, where people fitted in lovely outfits and amazing hairstyles milled about, in search of the one person that might have had something to do with this.

She looked back down at the envelope and toward the young lady who had already gone back behind the bar, “Who gave this to you?” She was hesitant to open it.

“Ms. Adams. The gallery’s director. She said it was from a very special guest.”

A very special guest.

She wasted no more time in ripping the top of the envelope open knowing already who it was from.

She braced herself for what she might read on the folded paper inside. Her heart walloped in her chest and she felt her throat go dry as she carefully pulled the paper out and unfolded it.

I’m sorry for the way things happened yesterday. I wanted to tell you so much more. I need you in my life, Y/n. Take a drink in the director’s office with me? Please? - H

She swallowed thickly and placed the paper down on the lacquered wood. The words stared up at her. Very reminiscent of that night. Their first night together.

She decided to take a moment. Finish her glass of wine and find her resolve. She’d see him. Because of course, she would. She’d fallen for the guy and perhaps closure would be good. For both of them. She tried not to get her hopes up.

But even with the idea that she wouldn’t get her hopes up, from the very base of her spine, small bursts of hope began spreading over her back, warming her up and causing the edge of her lip to flick upward the tiniest bit.

She had to stop. She couldn’t allow the butterflies and the warmth to cover her chest. This wasn’t an olive branch. This wasn’t hope. But that was what her body was feeling, the way it reacted after reading his words.

Stop.

She read the note again and the right side of her mouth quirked but she stifled the smile that tried breaking out over her features.

“Uh, hi!” She scooted off her stool and waved at the bartender, “Do you know where the director’s office is by chance?” The young woman smiled, “Follow me, Ms. Y/n.”

Y/n followed behind the young woman to a doorway at the far end of the room and into a hallway. Framed prints were hung along the wall and the floor was dark wood while the walls were a light cream. A few doors were passed, the bathrooms, a numbered room, until finally, they reached the director’s office.

The woman knocked before turning the knob to open the door and stood back, “Here you are.” She gestured at the open door.

“Thank you.” Y/n wavered in her movements wondering if this was the right thing. Should she entertain this idea? Of course, she was going to entertain this idea, but part of her wanted to keep her tough exterior and remain firm in her decision.

Slowly pushing the door further open, she stepped into the threshold and was met with a quaint office-sized room. The same dark wood floors sprawled below her feet, but the very first thing her eyes landed on was that of Harry holding a bouquet of flowers and wearing a soft smile.

She closed the door behind her and stepped in a couple of feet. He was in a well-fitted navy suit and he looked tired. But he was handsome.

The thought quickly hit her. How did he get in here? Who let him use the director’s office? But then, as he ran his ringed fingers through his hair and she saw remnants of chipped nail polish she was reminded of who he was. Not just her lover or her ex. But he was Harry. Everyone knew him or knew of him. Of course, he was allowed in the director’s office.

“Hi, Y/n,” Harry spoke reticently as he held out the bouquet to her.

He wasn’t sure she’d come to him or that she’d want to even talk to him. And he thought about making a grand gesture. Take over the audio system and declare his love publicly before everyone as he walked out into the crowd toward her. Make a scene. Make her listen. Have everyone rooting for them. Rooting for him.

But that wasn’t right. That would have been too pushy. Not fair. This night was about her. If he’d gone about it the way he wanted it would have had all eyes on him.

He knew, though, that he needed to be here with her. To tell her how he really felt and what he wanted and then if she still wanted that with him, still wanted to be with him, they could end the night the way it was meant to be ended. Together.

“Hi, Harry,” Y/n spoke softly, keeping her eyes on his eyes as she took the lovely bouquet full of pink peonies and soft cream roses.

Harry gestured toward the brown Midcentury style couch, “Will you sit with me? I won’t take up much of your time if you don’t want. I just wanted to say some things.”

The couch was large enough for just two people. Harry was glad she had to sit so close to him. He wanted to eat her up she looked so pretty and so sweet. And just the fact that she’d come to him to entertain a conversation had him soaring.

Placing the bouquet down on the glass coffee table, Y/n noticed the bottle of wine and two glasses as he pointed, “Would you like a glass?”

Nodding her head, Harry pulled the cork out and poured her a bit of the red wine. She felt like she should say no just for the fact that she’d only just finished a glass of white wine and surely it would make the red wine taste odd. But ultimately she figured she could use another glass of wine.

“Yesterday I was working up the courage to tell you how I want to be with you for good,” Harry said as he leaned his back into the cushion behind him with his own glass of wine, “Wanted to tell you how serious I am about you. But I thought you were planning on breaking up with me so I needed a minute to figure out how I was going to convince you to stay.”

Y/n’s eyes bounced over his features as she cinched her brows inward. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Had he wanted the same thing she did the whole time?

“And I’m so sorry that it seemed to you like I was putting off a serious conversation with you. That’s my fault. I should have stayed there with you in bed and listened to you right off. Even if it meant potentially having you break up with me,” he licked his lips and sighed, “Instead, I did what I normally do and tried and figure out a way to make something work in my favor. So I paused that moment hoping you’d change your mind, or that I could come up with something. Prolonging it for the sake of just holding on to you a little longer.

“It’s because I’m selfish and I like to control the narrative. But that’s never been fair to you. So, I understand if my apology is no good anymore. I just felt like maybe I can tell you what was really happening in my head yesterday. Because that part, you did have wrong.”

Y/n blinked her eyes and nodded, “Well, then… I guess I’m sorry too. Because it sounds like I might have jumped to conclusions. I just didn’t think you’d want something serious. Long term. But there’s more to it than just that you know?”

Harry frowned and shook his head, “What do you mean?”

Y/n could see how timid Harry had been since the moment she walked into the room with him. She felt the need to help assuage him so she turned her body toward his and pulled his hands into hers before speaking, “I mean that I’m getting older and I think it’s time for me to really settle down. For good. I mean…” she breathed out a nervous laugh, “like, babies, marriage… death. All that. That’s what I mean.”

Harry nodded and raised his brows, “Yeah?”

Y/n grinned as Harry’s thumbs ran along the sides of her hands. The corner of his mouth pulled upward. She could see his swagger return in almost an instant. His eye contact was solid and his dimples carved into his cheeks.

“Well, yeah,” she started to feel flustered by his proximity, the way she could see his pupils roaming over her face and watching her mouth, “I’m not saying we need to get married but like,” she swallowed, “I’d like for us to be serious enough to know that we’d be headed that direction if things are good. And I know you’re super famous and that’s why yesterday I just…”

“I want to be with you. I want it all with you.” Harry bowed his head, finally breaking eye contact and his hands tightened around hers, “I thought you were done with me. I thought you were going to break up with me and that I wasn’t going to be worth all the trouble for you. Because I know this is a lot.”

“No. I just thought you wouldn’t want what I wanted and the way you reacted to me telling you I wanted to talk and how you didn’t come to find me after you were done showering… I felt like you were trying to figure out the best way to break it to me- either that or you were trying to avoid me. I just… Thought the worst.”

She couldn’t have described the way her insides were pulsing and expanding and churning. She’d spent the better half of the day reeling over losing him. Over knowing she might not get to look into his eyes in this way again. Might not see the small freckles on his face again and the way he blushed despite being so sure of himself. But here she was sitting with Harry and in under three minutes everything had changed. If she had just listened yesterday. If he had just listened.

“But so did I. That’s why we’re in this mess. I thought you were breaking up with me and so my behavior made you think the worst.”

Y/n smiled and allowed herself to indulge in his eyes and in the grin he was holding back and the way his fingers felt on hers… Was she just dreaming? Was she just about to wake up and realize it had all been a dream?

“Is it okay if I… ?” He pulled at her gently and slowly wrapped his arms around her and she smelled his familiar cologne. She loved how this felt. Hugging him. Feeling his solid body against hers. She eased into his hold and wrapped her own arms around him.

Harry whispered into her ear, “I should have told you everything yesterday. Let you talk and then we wouldn’t have gotten in this mess. It’s me and you, Y/n. Okay? Me and you. That’s what I want.”

Tears of relief and elated joy broke from her waterline and Harry pulled her in tighter, kissing her temple, “I thought you were done with me. I thought you wanted to break up with me,” the anguish in his voice was not missed. He’d been hurting too.

Harry brushed his palm up and down on her back slowly and pressed his lips to the top of her head, “God I was so worried this was it for us. Fuck. I’m not letting you leave me again like you did. I can’t be away from you like that, Y/n.”

Pulling her head back to look up at him she did see the glisten in his eyes from the start of tears. She knew hers matched. It all felt like a dream. But just in case it was real she needed to speak the words. Sliding her hands upward and cupping his face she was nearly trembling from relief and excitement, “I love you, Harry.”

Harry closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into hers, clutching her lovely dress tightly, “God, I love you, Y/n.”

. . .

Stepping into the gallery with all the other people in the room and having Harry by her side felt surreal. Everyone was watching them. She was okay to share this night with him. There was no way around it that people wouldn’t be interested in her because of her boyfriend. She figured that would be something she’d just have to get used to.

Harry squeezed her hand tight and she looked up at him. He looked proud. So important with a big, pleased smile on his lips as he looked down at her.

“You realize you’re coming back home with me after this. Right? And I’m never letting you leave me again.”

Harry had grown a lot as an individual. He still had moments where he could be pushy and use his charm to get the things he wanted, but he figured some things just couldn’t be totally trained out of him. He allowed Y/n to make her own choices. He gave her space when she needed but she came back to him in the end. He wanted her to be his and everything they’d done that had gotten them to where they were currently had worked out. So Harry had no regrets about coming to her on this night.

“Of course, I’m coming home with you. I’d be offended if you assumed otherwise,” she smirked happily. “And I wouldn’t dream of leaving you again.”

Harry couldn’t wait to get her home and make love to her. Seal it all together in finality. He knew that tonight was just the beginning for them.

And as if they could both read one another’s minds they smiled and paused together in time. Everything had finally come together for them. At last.

A/N: This is the last part of this series! Would love your feedback!

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atopvisenyashill · 10 months

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patterns of abuse with jaehaerys

this post made me deeply depressed and i reread f&b which was my first mistake.

tldr i’m making the argument that jaehaerys definitely sexually abused saera and alysanne, and likely viserra and gael, and also i hate this man. if you disagree and want to say so *nicely* that’s cool but if you hardcore love jae and don’t want to hear criticism, maybe just scroll past bc i’m not nice to him at all (obviously, i’m accusing him of csa lol).

breaking this down by each woman, so there’s 6 sections: saera, viserra, daella, gael, alysanne, and alicent.

saera targaryen

If she were the king’s firstborn, or better still his only child, she would be well content. Instead she finds herself the ninthborn, with six living siblings who are older than her and even more adored. Aemon is to be king, Baelon most like will be his Hand, Alyssa may be all her mother is and more, Vaegon is more learned than she is, Maegelle is holier, and Daella…when does a day go by when Daella is not in need of comfort? And whilst she is being soothed, Saera is being ignored. Such a fierce little thing she is, they say, she has no need of comfort. They are wrong in that, I fear. All men need comfort.

that’s septon barth’s opinion on her and barth is always right. simply put, she’s a deeply neglected child who acts like a brat to get her parents attention because she’s learned the only way they’ll pay attention to her is if she’s causing a problem.

Before she was eleven, she was stealing wine and ale instead. By twelve, she was like as not to arrive drunk when summoned to the sept for prayer.

The king’s half-witted fool, Tom Turnip, was the victim of many of her japes, and her unwitting catspaw for others. Once, before a great feast where many lords and ladies were to be in attendance, she persuaded Tom that it would be much funnier if he performed naked. It was not well received.

stealing alcohol at 10 and being a committed alcoholic at 12 is not normal behavior. it is a sign of something deeply at wrong at home. also, the way she kind of, sexually humiliated tom, someone who is too “innocent” to even realize she’s sexually humiliating him…gives me the ick re: how she views sex.

Saera had learned the art of getting anything she wanted from her father: a kitten, a hound, a pony, a hawk, a horse (Jaehaerys did draw a firm line at the elephant). Queen Alysanne was far less gullible, however, and Septon Barth tells us that Saera’s sisters all misliked her to various degrees.

i don’t like this. nothing wrong with giving your child gifts (see ned going above and beyond to get arya not just instruction on how to fight but also a specific style that would gel with being smaller than your average opponent) but in conjunction with “jaehaerys ignores saera unless she’s pressing him for an expensive gift which he immediately gives her and alysanne doesn’t get why he caved so quickly” its an alarming dynamic.

also speaks to how isolated saera specifically was, that the only siblings that like her (aemon and baelon) are usually out and about, and there’s a clear wedge between saera and her sisters, even viserra.

The screams were coming from Tom Turnip, who was lurching helplessly in circles trying to escape from half a dozen naked whores, whilst the patrons of the house laughed uproariously and shouted on the harlots. Jonah Mooton, Red Roy Connington, and Stinger Beesbury were amongst those patrons, each one drunker than the last. They had thought it would be funny to see old Turnip do the deed, Red Roy admitted. Then Jonah Mooton laughed and said the jape had all been Saera’s notion, and what a funny girl she was.

again with sexually humiliating tom.

it continues with her friends. it’s not unusual for a 15 year old girl to want to fool around with other 15 year olds but alys and perri are all guilt ridden and upset and alys is with child. it reminds me a lot of cersei sexually abusing taena in affc. when she’s caught (now, mind you, she’s been marched in front of her parents sitting on the throne and not brought to them in their private rooms. she’s being treated right off the bat as if she’s guilty of a crime and not guilty of being a shitty teenager):

“She went from denial to dismissal to quibbling to contrition to accusation to justification to defiance in the space of an hour, with stops at giggling and weeping along the way,” Septon Barth would write. “She never did it, they were lying, it never happened, how could they believe that, it was just a game, it was just a jape, who said that, that was not how it happened, everyone likes kissing, she was sorry, Peri started it, it was such fun, no one was hurt, no one ever told her kissing was bad, Sweetberry had dared her, she was so ashamed, Baelon used to kiss Alyssa all the time, once she started she did not know how to stop, she was afraid of Stinger, the Mother Above had forgiven her, all the girls were doing it, the first time she was drunk, she had never wanted to, it was what men wanted, Maegelle said the gods forgave all sins, Jonah said he loved her, the gods had made her pretty, it was not her fault, she would be good from now on, it will be as if it never happened, she would marry Red Roy Connington, they had to forgive her, she would never kiss a man again or do any of those other things, it wasn’t her who was with child, she was their daughter, she was their little girl, she was a princess, if she were queen she would do as she liked, why wouldn’t they believe her, they never loved her, she hated them, they could whip her if they wanted but she would never be their slave. She took my breath away, this girl. There was never a mummer in all the land who gave such a performance, but by the end she was exhausted and afraid, and her mask slipped.”

What does Jaehaerys ask after all of this? “Have you given any of these boys your maidenhead?” Her response:

“True?” said Saera. It was in that moment, with that word, that the contempt came out. “No. I gave it to all three. They all think they were the first. Boys are such silly fools.”

Now mind you, Alyssa and Daella have both died of childbirth recently and her parents are mad she had sex as a 16 year old bordering on 17 year old, and not the fact that she like, at best peer pressured her besties into having sex and now one of them is pregnant. jaehaerys has only asked if she’s still a virgin.

“I will be married,” the princess said. “Why shouldn’t I be? You were married at my age. I shall be wedded and bedded, but to whom? Jonah and Roy both love me, I could take one of them, but they are both such boys. Stinger does not love me, but he makes me laugh and sometimes makes me scream. I could marry all three of them, why not? Why should I have just one husband? The Conqueror had two wives, and Maegor had six or eight.”

i keep trying not to give my opinion and just lay it all out but the thing is i’d just be reposting the whole scene because it’s just filled with so much weird sex stuff. if you don’t remember it, go reread it. it doesn’t feel (to me) like regular “george is bad at writing sex” vibes but “george is purposefully trying to skeeve you out” vibes but i am willing to admit i could be wrong and he really just doesn’t understand what he wrote.

anyways remember how i said saera acts out to get attention from her parents? all she’s done here is act out, her “crimes” are basically nonexistent; beyond how alys feels about being pregnant, saera consensually had sex with boys around her age who aren’t married, and then blithely compared herself to some asshole relatives. if your teenager idolizes dick cheney that’s probably worrying but not a crime! this is not how jae treats it however.

When the princess heard his words, she rushed toward him, crying, “Father, Father!” but Jaehaerys turned his back on her, and Gyles Morrigen caught her by the arm and wrenched her away. She would not go of her own accord, so the guards were forced to drag her from the hall, wailing and sobbing and calling for her father.

The king was angry and unyielding, for his shame was deeply felt, and he could not forget Saera’s taunting words about his uncle’s wives. “She is no longer my daughter,” he said more than once. Queen Alysanne could not find it in her heart to be so harsh, however. “

saera tries to escape.

This time the princess was not allowed to return to her own chambers. She was confined to a tower cell instead, with Jonquil Darke guarding her day and night, even in the privy.

Princess Saera watched from the window of her cell. Jonquil Darke, her gaoler, made certain that she did not turn away.

that’s as her dad is murdering stinger btw. is he a creepy 19 year old? yeah. but like, making your 15 year old watch you murder her 19 year old trust fund baby stoner boyfriend sure is something.

so then they sent her to the silent sisters where she’s beaten all the time and has to pray all the time and she runs away, becomes a sex worker and literally never looks back.

The truth did not come out until a year later, when the former princess was seen in a Lysene pleasure garden, still clad as a novice. Queen Alysanne wept to hear it. “They have made our daughter into a whore,” she said. “She always was,” the king replied.

“You need her as a Dornishman needs a pit viper,” Jaehaerys said. “I am sorry. King’s Landing has sufficient whores. I do not wish to hear her name again.”

but before we move on, let’s look at one more related ick, when saera’s sons show up to the great council:

From Essos came three rival competitors, grandsons of King Jaehaerys through his daughter Saera, each sired by a different father. One was said to be the very image of his grandsire in his youth.

after her drinking, acting out, and jaehaerys’ focus on calling her a whore, explicitly pointing out that one of her grandsons looks just like jae is a choice. i know they’re super inbred. it’s still uncomfortable in context.

viserra targaryen

alysanne makes no sense here but i’m just gonna quickly explain instead of lay it out or we will be here all day bc viserra’s engagement is completely nonsensical. theomore manderly is old, ugly, has a shitton of heirs, and viserra clearly doesn’t want to marry him. also if she wanted to be queen, why is she going after baelon, aemon is still alive. anyways jaehaerys is no help here, then she goes to baelon for help, but she’s also super drunk.

Frustrated, Viserra next turned to her brother Baelon in hopes of rescue, if court gossip can be believed. Slipping past his guards into his bedchamber one night, she disrobed and waited for him, making free with the prince’s wine whilst she lingered. When Prince Baelon finally appeared, he found her drunk and naked in his bed and sent her on her way. The princess was so unsteady that she required the help of two maids and a knight of the Kingsguard to get her safely back to her own apartments.

she gets drunk with some friends again, goes riding, breaks her neck. i wanted to point out this pattern of drinking and acting out at a young age. as well as this pattern of targaryen daughters who aren’t “meant” for a brother and are promised to men who are old and with heirs

daella targaryen

i wanted to add daella because her getting married at 15 makes as little sense as viserra, and her match to a old man with several heirs is equally nonsensical. but also this:

“I would never marry her,” the boy said, in front of half the court. “She can barely read. She should find some lord in need of stupid children, for that’s the only sort he will ever have of her.”

where did vaegon get that mouth.

Daella was not clever, even her septa had to admit. She learned to read after a fashion, but haltingly, and without full comprehension. She could not seem to commit even the simplest prayers to memory. She had a sweet voice, but was afraid to sing; she always got the words wrong. She loved flowers, but was frightened of gardens; a bee had almost stung her once.

Jaehaerys, even more than Alysanne, despaired of her. “She will not even speak to a boy. How is she to marry? We could entrust her to the Faith, but she does not know her prayers, and her septa says that she cries when asked to read aloud from The Seven-Pointed Star.”

The queen always rose to her defense. “Daella is sweet and kind and gentle. She has such a tender heart. Give me time, and I will find a lord to cherish her. Not every Targaryen needs to wield a sword and ride a dragon.”

so daella is 12 at this point.

Her sixteenth nameday was fast approaching, and with it her womanhood. Queen Alysanne was at her wit’s end, and the king had lost his patience. On the first day of the 80th year since Aegon’s Conquest, he told the queen he wanted Daella wed before the year’s end. “If she wants I can find a hundred men and line them up before her naked, and she can pick the one she likes,” he said. “I would sooner she wed a lord, but if she prefers a hedge knight or a merchant or Pate the Pig Boy, I am past the point of caring, so long as she picks someone.”

i just don’t like this. other “simple” targs are not required to marry, like vaella and aelora, two of daeron ii’s grandfaughters so i don’t get why daella is pressured into marrying before she’s even of age. at least jae 2 forced rhaella and aerys because of a prophecy? what is jae’s reasoning for so sexualizing his daughter?

gael targaryen

this one is definitely a reach but i’d like to point out that this is basically all we know about gael:

Princess Gael, a sweet, shy child of seven, became the queen’s constant shadow and support, even sharing her bed at night.

and our information on how she dies is so shady:

A sweet-natured girl, but frail and somewhat simpleminded, she remained with the queen long after her other children had grown and gone, but in 99 AC she vanished from court, and soon afterward it was announced that she had died of a summer fever. Only after both her parents were gone did the true tale come out. Seduced and abandoned by a traveling singer, the princess had given birth to a stillborn son, then, overwhelmed by grief, walked into the waters of Blackwater Bay and drowned.

how does gael get pregnant by a traveling singer when she never leaves her mother’s side? why doesn’t anyone in court know gael got pregnant and killed herself until after aly and jae both die and how was this even found out?

am i implying that jaehaerys sexually abused all four of his daughters? yes because he literally sexually abuses his own wife.

alysanne targaryen

“I am forty-two years old,” she told the king. “You must be content with the children I have given you. I am more suited to be a grandmother than a mother now, I fear.”

King Jaehaerys did not share her certainty. “Our mother, Queen Alyssa, was forty-six when she gave birth to Jocelyn,” he pointed out to Grand Maester Elysar. “The gods may not be done with us.” He was not wrong. The very next year, the Grand Maester informed Queen Alysanne that she was once more with child, to her surprise and dismay.

he uses the birth that killed their mother and that is condemned by rhaena and alysanne as reckless and cruel of rogar to force on her. that birth.

at this point as well, he had abused saera and daella, then they’re gone, then viserra starts drinking and dies, then jae marital rapes aly into having gael, giving him access to another young girl to abuse…i’m aware this is a very uncharitable reading of him but…

alicent hightower (and kind of alyssa targaryen)

Ser Otto’s precocious fifteen-year-old daughter, Alicent, became his constant companion, fetching His Grace his meals, reading to him, helping him to bathe and dress himself. The Old King sometimes mistook her for one of his daughters, calling her by their names; near the end, he grew certain she was his daughter Saera, returned to him from beyond the narrow sea.

saera is the one he fixated on yet again but notable that he’s fixated on his daughters as he dies and not his sons, despite jaehaerys turning to drink after aemon died bc he was so upset.

He announced his intention to wed Lady Alicent of House Hightower, the clever and lovely eighteen-year-old daughter of the King’s Hand, the girl who had read to King Jaehaerys as he lay dying.

The Hightowers of Oldtown were an ancient and noble family, of impeccable lineage; there could be no possible objection to the king’s choice of bride. Even so, there were those who murmured that the Hand had risen above himself, that he had brought his daughter to court with this in mind. A few even cast doubt on Lady Alicent’s virtue, suggesting she had welcomed King Viserys into her bed even before Queen Aemma’s death. (These calumnies were never proved, though Mushroom repeats them in his Testimony and goes so far as to claim that reading was not the only service Lady Alicent performed for the Old King in his bedchamber.)

i know it’s just mushroom being a perv but a rumor that 15 year old alicent “serviced” jaehaerys existing besides rumors that he mistook 15 year old alicent for the daughter he last saw when she was 17 - and viserra was 15, gael 19, and daella 15, all around alicent’s age and all died before age 20. all the targaryen girls that weren’t born “for” a brother exit the narrative after some sort of sexual abuse that centers around jae, as teenagers; daenerys was born for aemon, alyssa for baelon, and maegelle for vaegon before they both fucked off and maegelle was too pious (and too old). this idea of being “for” a brother leads directly to alyssa’s death before 30:

“You were made for battles, and I was made for this. Viserys and Daemon and Aegon, that’s three. As soon as I am well, let’s make another. I want to give you twenty sons. An army of your own!” It was not to be. Alyssa Targaryen had a warrior’s heart in a woman’s body, and her strength failed her. She never fully recovered from Aegon’s birth, and died within the year at only four-and-twenty.

and alysanne being “for” jaehaerys is how he excusing sexually abusing her into a risky pregnancy. essentially what i fear is that because saera, daella, viserra, and gael aren’t “for” someone, jaehaerys gets it into his mind that that are for him. even without him raping them tho, that subtext is there! he is entitled to saera’s virginity and calls her a whore multiple times, even decades after she’s left, and murders her boyfriend in front of her. he claims a weird sexual ownership over his neurodivergent daughter daella and his alcoholic, depressed daughter viserra, and we get zero information on gael’s pregnancy or his reaction to it. but jaehaerys deciding his daughters are “for” him certainly has a basis in canon just judging from the erratic and worrying behavior of his younger daughters.

jaehaerys is a creep and i hate him and i don’t know how much of this is on purpose (like, will aegon vi or dany find out jaehaerys was a shady pedo and it shatters their world? will dunk and egg find it out and it affects their plot somehow? did george just put it in there to make a comment on power and monarchy and misogyny, similar to aegon iv raping the bracken women? or is just there for window dressing creepiness, like “i will pepper in the fact that jaehaerys is sexually obsessed with his daughters” thing?) or if george just made jaehaerys sexually obsessed with his daughters on accident?

on the one hand, it seems out of character for george. he romanticizes drogo thru dany’s eyes but it’s clear he’s meant to be seen as a creep (dany talking about being pregnant followed by “she had just turned 14” is sickeningly jarring for a reason) and also, drogo dies bc of his own pride. sansa doesn’t like any of the old dudes touching her; she is at least marginally freaked out by her wedding night, the unkiss, and lf & dontos taking liberties with her, and rightly. the story that’s told about the mountain raping a girl and making the father pay him is meant to disgust us. the walk of shame is a harrowing chapter to read, because whatever cersei’s crimes, this sexual humiliation is not something she deserves. on and on. yes, we all hate the way arya is sexualized in the mercy chapter, but crucially, she’s not blithely and happily seducing these pervs, she’s going hard candy on their asses. is this just messy set up for something like that?? i think, given how little dany knows about her family’s crimes that somehow learning jae sexually abused (and maybe even impregnated) his own daughters after she herself experiences sexual abuse would be huge. the same goes for aegon vi learning that sexual abuse runs rampant in his family tree; would he empathize with saera hiding out in essos to escape the sexual abuse of her father, see some of elia and his own plight in her? in gael?

or did george really just. not realize how sexually obsessed jaehaerys was with his daughters?

idk how to end this. where’s the winds of winter george i need answers.

#anti jaehaerys targaryen #anti fire and blood #valyrianscrolls #saera targaryen #viserra targaryen #gael targaryen #debated the vs tag bc i know it’s probably gonna annoy some people but. i do actually wonder if this will be a plot point in the books #or if it was an accident #rani attempts meta

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sprucewoodmpreg · 2 years

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hi vaguely serious messy post about hermitblr and new members and just. letting everyone know that we’ve had history with cc interaction on here before that i think would be useful for people to learn about

Trafficblr/Hermitblr has seen a lot of growth lately, largely in part from people migrating over here from the DSMP side of MCYTblr. This in of itself is completely fine! New people jumping onto the bus with us are always welcome, and the growth of the community as a whole is really nice to see.

However, I have noticed a lot of these newer blogs sharing the same very specific behaviours, and if possible, I’d like to just make a few things about the community and our history clear. Because this isn’t DSMP, and the CCs here handle content creation and their own fanbases very differently to them.

While I’m not going to go in-depth on 2019 since I don’t have nearly as much information about it as other people do, I would like to say that back then, Hermitblr was kind of an active war zone. It was comparable to how Hermittwt is now, with infighting about shipping and similar topics being the norm (however in Hermitblr’s case many of these argument were far more personal due to the smaller fandom size). What I want to point out specifically however, is when one of the CCs, Cleo, was thrown into the community infighting. I don’t remember the specifics of it, but she was sent an ask asking about shipping, and her opinions on it, and eventually dealt with so much backlash that she was forced to leave the site entirely (this post here has a slightly more comprehensive summary, if need be).

I’m just a little concerned, because there seems to have been a slight increase in that demographic of people recently. Specifically, members of the community who want to rely on CCs to dictate what happens in fan spaces; for them to give us bullet point lists of what their exact boundaries are for every single situation.

This rarely ends well. As in, it almost always just causes infighting and hostility. There will always be people making content that will “break boundaries”, regardless of any creator’s wishes. However, this is usually mitigated by the fact that many of these CCs aren’t on Tumblr (at least not anymore....mostly). The problem arises when members of the community attempt to act as Heroes Of Justice, and go out of their way to send asks to other blogs, informing them exactly of how they’ve broken the boundaries of some 40 year old adult. This is all despite the fact that said adult will....never see whatever post went against their wishes. It just encourages policing and this weird superiority....thing, where despite the lack of content creators, people are still fighting to make sure that the site is clean from any possibly upsetting posts.

I say this all while also acknowledging that many of the creators in this sphere also don’t have a very comprehensive understanding of how fandom interacts with their “characters”. To them, “shipping” has always been RPF, and there are so many other aspects of the community that simply can’t be explained easily, as they haven’t been immersed in this culture like we have. This is to say that asking for “boundaries” is likely to get you a very confused and unhelpful answer, as the Hermits have always had a very different way of interacting and viewing their fanbase than the DSMP creators do. There is no “c!” or “cc!” to them, to put it simply.

Essentially, the Hermits are adults. They’ve been doing content creation for years, and I can guarantee you they’ve seen worse things in their lives than art of their Minecraft character kissing another Minecraft character. They’ve dealt with this shit before, and if they wanted it to stop, they’re free to make a post about it whenever want. And yet, they haven’t. They leave fandom up to us. Boundaries and rules and infighting and just...all of that? Let’s leave it to the Twitter users, please. Post what you want, make sure to tag your posts correctly, and we’ll all be fine.

Also, while I’m going to try not to rehash any discourse about inviting CCs to Tumblr, I also do just want to implore you guys to consider that the environment on Hermittwt is partially the way it is because of the active presence of the Hermits there, with people flocking for attention or a single notice, and obsessively checking posts to make sure they’re not potentially “boundary-breaking” and such. Please just consider that many people are here to avoid the dynamics of that site. Tumblr is a site for fans, not for the CCs. So we create content here for ourselves, and not for them. Having creators join almost always leads to the culture of their fanbase on here changing, with content posted in the maintags being catered more towards them rather than the fanbase. (This isn’t to say that they can’t join!! But at least keeping in mind why many of us are here in the first place and weighing that against potential CC interactions would mean a lot).

I fear that my point may have been lost a little bit, but I hope my explanation at least brings a little bit of light to why many members of the community here are wary of Creators coming over to the site, and also of how many newer blogs tend to treat the CCs. Hermitblr has had some really bad history in the past when it comes to this stuff, and seeing newer fans bring over similar ideas from DSMPblr just worries me a little bit.

TL:DR - Just...please treat the Hermits like the adults they are, and keep in mind they have a very different dynamic with their fanbases to the DSMP creators. Asking for “boundaries” and granting CCs control of the fanbase will likely lead you nowhere; attempting to police fanspaces here just brings up bad memories of times when Hermitblr was a much more miserable place to be in. Plus, if you want CC interactions, please just go to twitter. Nobody here wants to deal with an attempted “cleanse” of the site to make it more palatable to CCs.

#i hope this is ok. again im not. trying to police or be a ''fandom mom'' or fucking. whatever #just giving my 2 cents on the subject. take it or leave it i don't care im not the boss of you and you dont have to listen to me #also gen if you see this and want me to remove your post just send me an ask and i'll take it out #discourse #if i said anything goofy or fucked up lmk because while i did try 2 proofread this im also not very concise nor clear #just gonna hit post. assuming this isn't gonna get more than like. 20 notes anyway so i likely wont have to worry abt ppl getting mad @ me

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comradeghosty · 5 months

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Letting You Off Easy (NSFW)

NSFW Sabo x reader fic

Summary: Sabo promised you that he would come to bed, but he got caught up reading again. He makes it up to you.

Tags: nsfw, established relationship, soft dom Sabo, bdsm themes, vaginal sex, oral sex, fingering, dirty talk, humiliation, edging

!!! 18+ !!!

I also posted it on AO3

Sabo was supposed to have met you in bed by now. He promised, I’ll be there before 10 tonight, but as usual, he was caught up in whatever book he was reading. As you lay there in the bed, you stared up at the ceiling. You considered waiting, maybe going to sleep till he got there, but you were impatient and Sabo had promised.

Throwing the sheets off, you got out of bed and crept down the hallway to Sabo’s study. This was his room, the one place in the house that was off limits to you. When he was in there, he was working and required no distractions. Fingers tapped your chin as you weighed the risks. On one hand, if you interrupted his work, he would probably be upset with you. An upset Sabo hurt your heart; when his sweet smile disappeared from his face, it made you ache. However, you needed to go to bed, and he had promised. He couldn’t be too upset if he had promised, right?

Slowly, your hand reached towards the doorknob as you made your decision. The glass knob was heavy in your hand as you turned it, and you briefly wondered if you had made a mistake as you pushed the door open.

Inside the room was a candlelit masterpiece. For some reason, Sabo loved feeling archaic as he worked, seeing his work by fire in the evenings and at night. Many times you had complained to him that he would hurt his vision, but he reassured you that it was fine. The room was well furnished, dark wooden bookshelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with books both old and new. A large globe adorned one corner of the room and the walls not occupied by bookshelves were filled with maps and art. His desk sat against a wall, covered in papers that he had yet to grade and lit candles that had wax which dripped down the stem of their holders. In the opposite corner of the room sat a small, dark loveseat that Sabo liked to sit on when he read. This is where he currently resided, a book propped in his hand.

Sabo looked at you with an unreadable expression. His dark eyes pierced through you, sending a shiver down your spine. This is the second time you wondered if this intrusion was a mistake. He leaned the book down on his lap, which you eyed with a small blush. He was still in his work clothes, a cream colored button down that was rolled up to the elbows and dark linen pants.

You were snapped out of your thoughts as the blonde cleared his throat. Anxiety panged through your stomach. He sat his book on the table next to him. A blush dusted your cheeks as you watched his hand come up to take the thin rimmed glasses from his face. He folded those and placed them on top of the book.

“Come sit,” he said, simply patting his lap. You shivered at the evenness in his voice. Nothing good ever comes after Sabo uses that tone.

Slowly, you walked over, like a dog who knew it did something bad, hesitating in order to delay whatever punishment awaited you. For a moment, you just stood there in front of him until he patted his lap again. Reluctantly, you sat down sideways on his lap. Sabo put one arm around your waist, anchoring you to him, and you swallowed thickly.

“Am I in trouble?” you asked. Your voice was quiet and shaking a bit when you spoke. It embarrassed you, and you could feel yourself redden. Sabo’s eyes softened a bit, which set off alarm bells in your head. God, you fucked up by coming in here.

Sabo doesn’t answer and just chuckles darkly. “Trouble? Mm, did you break a rule?”

Of course, he wanted you to acknowledge that you knew you were doing something you weren't supposed to. “I… came into your study, sir. I’m sorry,” you muttered. The words came easy to you, casually slipping into a state of mind that only Sabo could pull from your bones. So easily did he comfort you, his kind face and soft smile easing your mind and relaxing your boundaries.

“That’s it, I was worried that you had forgotten. That doesn’t seem to be the case, though. You just wanted to be disobedient.” Sabo tutted at you, mumbling out, “just what am I going to do with you?” He went quiet for a moment, thinking.

Suddenly, he turned you in his lap so you faced away from him, your knees falling over his legs. A large hand gently placed itself on your throat, not squeezing but making you aware of its presence, and another found its place on your waist. Sabo spread his knees apart, widening your thighs. You felt exposed as he held you to his chest, your nightgown slipping down your thighs to bunch around your hips. A shiver wracked your body as the cool air danced across the skin of your thighs.

“So needy, my dear. Couldn't wait for me in bed like a good girl? Do you need me to teach you some patience, sweetheart?” he crooned, his tone patronizing. There was something in the way he talked down to you that made you whine.

His hand moved across your throat, gripping the nape of your neck and gently tugging at the hair, turning you to crane your neck towards him. “Hm? Sorry, I can’t hear you. Speak up.”

You pouted at him, your lips pursed in a small frown. He knew you didn’t say anything. When you spoke, your voice came out mumbly and grouchy. “You promised you’d be in bed and then you didn’t come,” you whined, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Promise? Oh, I did promise. I’m sorry, sunshine,” he stroked your hair gently, brushing it out of your face as he looked at you. You couldn’t be too mad at him, after all you knew how engrossed he became while reading. His onyx eyes were sincere and a small pout graced his lips briefly before turning into a gentle smile. “In that case, let me make it up to you. You still entered my study without permission, so you have to be punished, but I promise to make you feel good afterward.” A large hand cupped your jaw firmly, thumb brushing over your lips. Sabo leaned forward and kissed your cheek gently.

Slowly, you felt his hands sliding down your sides, briefly resting on your hips before traveling to your thighs. The soft palms skated along the outside of your thighs, all the way to your knees before slowly moving to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Sabo started gently, caressing your legs before pinching roughly. A whine escaped your lips at the sudden rough sensation, your head lolling back against his broad chest. He took his time, pinching and squeezing his way to the apex of your thighs. You knew it would leave marks, Sabo always made sure to leave marks. His large hands skirted around your panties, not quite touching but making sure you knew he was right there.

“You want me to touch you, angel? C’mon, you can tell me. Don't be shy,” he cooed lowly in your ear. A shiver ran down your spine, straight to your cunt. Your body relaxed at his voice, and Sabo was quick to notice. You missed the devious smile that graced his face, right before his hand came down in a harsh slap against your inner thigh.

A cry left your lips at the impact, and you felt your arousal build. “I said, open your mouth and beg for my touch,” Sabo growled into your ear. He wasn’t playing around anymore, and you knew it.

“Ah, I’m sorry, sir. Please touch me, please let me feel you,” your eyes squeezed closed as you begged him, your hands clenching at your sides.

Fingers slowly edged around your panties as he complied with your pleas, his tongue darting out to lick the spot where your neck met your shoulder. “You sound so pretty when you beg,” he breathed. There were suddenly too many sensations as you felt Sabo’s wet tongue on your neck, his fingers prodding at your clothed cunt, and his other hand coming back to rest on your throat, holding you against his chest.

Whimpering out, your hands came up to hold his arm where it rested across your chest. “S- Sabo… please…”

“Please what, angel? Say what you want.”

Your face burned, embarrassment shooting through your core as you realized he was going to make you say it.

“P- please touch me… under… ah… my panties…” God, it was so humiliating. You felt your cunt clench around nothing as he put his hand under the cloth and just… held it there, unmoving. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, frustration tight in your body.

“Like that? Doesn’t seem very exciting to me,” Sabo chuckled. “You’re usually so mouthy… why so quiet, dirty girl?”

You squirmed on his lap, trying to get friction while avoiding saying anything else. His hand left your panties and another harsh slap landed on your thigh, making you jump. The hand around your throat tightened slightly. “Stop being so greedy and use that mouth. I won’t ask again,” he scolded. Sabo could be so intimidating when he wanted to be.

“Ah, please! Please put your fingers in my pussy, sir,” you begged, shame burning your face. A tear slid down your cheek as Sabo’s hand reentered your panties, sliding through your wetness. You felt immediate relief at his touch, sighing and leaning back into him. Fingers lazily dragged through your slit as he touched you, and you moaned when his thumb dragged against your clit. Sabo leaned against your neck as he touched you, smirking as you moaned and sighed from his touch.

Briefly, he pinched your clit between his thumb and knuckle, making you cry out in surprise before sinking two fingers into your hole. The stretch was so good, your body willfully accommodating him. “Oh god, Sabo… ‘s so good,” you slurred out.

“Look at you, sucking me in. So greedy, all for me,” he purred. You could feel him sucking dark marks into your neck, letting his possessive nature through. His long fingers pumped in and out of you, your thighs trembling as Sabo kept them spread apart. He moved his hand, his thumb rubbing circles against your clit as his fingers massaged your cunt.

You were a mess, shaking and moaning and whining against him. “S- Sabo… sir… ‘m close…” Breathy pants left your lips as you felt your abdomen coil in pleasure. “P- pleasee, oh god…” And right as that coil was about to snap, you were left empty. Sabo pulled his fingers out of your cunt, and your brows furrowed. You opened your mouth, turning to him to say something before his fingers were shoved roughly into your mouth, tasting of you. His dark eyes looked at you sternly, narrowing slightly.

“Now now… you know you had to be punished, my dear.” His fingers pressed down against your tongue. “Don’t be a brat. I’m letting you off easy since I did break my promise. Say thank you.”

Sabo didn’t move his fingers, and your face burned. This was humiliating, and you attempted to avert your eyes. His thumb pressed up on the soft part of your chin as his fingers pushed down, silently demanding eye contact. You spoke around his fingers, drool dripping down your chin from the corners of your mouth. “Haa, ‘ank ‘oo,” you mumbled around his fingers.

A smile softened his features as he praised you. “That’s my girl. Are you ready for me to make it up to you?”

You nodded your head as much as you could with his fingers still in your mouth, and he kissed your cheek.

“Stand up for me, sweet girl,” he requested, removing his hand. You stood up, standing in front of him, feeling vulnerable. “Take your clothes off, I want to see you.” Slowly, you pulled your nightgown over your head, feeling Sabo’s dark eyes roving over your body. He watched as you exposed yourself, drinking in your body like it was the finest wine. You could see his need, one of his hands palming the bulge in his pants. It made you blush, the ludeness of watching Sabo touch himself as you stripped. The nightgown dropped in a puddle on the floor, your panties joining it shortly after.

Sabo stood up, stepping over to you. His hands ghosted your sides, guiding you to sit on the loveseat where he previously sat. The man slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pants, tossing them aside as you watched. He never broke eye contact with you. You trembled, his dark eyes looking hungrily down at you while he knelt on the hardwood in front of you. His hands rested on each of your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the seat. Soft kisses peppered the inside of your legs, which draped over Sabo’s shoulders. He licked and sucked kisses into your sensitive skin as he moved his way closer to your cunt.

“So good, so sweet. You took your punishment so well, sweetheart,” he mumbled out between kisses. “Let me take care of you now.”

Sighing, you reclined back as Sabo worshiped your thighs. His gentle kisses and gasps made you shake as he pressed his face against you, breathing you in with a quiet “fuck.” You felt yourself clench around nothing.

You let out a loud moan as Sabo licked a long stripe up your cunt. Like a man starved, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you tightly against his mouth. Your head flew back, eyes squeezed shut as the blonde feasted on you. His tongue lapped against you, tapping quickly against your clit. “Oh fuck, fuck please,” you whined. Both of your hands moved to tangle in his curls, holding him as you gently rutted against his face.

Soft and needy gasps and moans came from between your thighs, and all it did was push you closer to the edge. Sabo was a vocal lover, letting you know that he was enjoying giving as much as you enjoyed receiving. You looked down, just to see his dark eyes on you. The blonde loved watching the way your face contorted with pleasure. Your thighs tightened around his head as you got closer, already sensitive and close from being edged. “Please, please don’t stop,” you begged. All you wanted was for him to keep going, the pressure on your clit perfectly matched with his long and firm licks.

Sabo hummed against your cunt and you snapped, cumming hard with a soft cry of his name. The man didn’t stop, but he slowed a bit to help you ride your way through your orgasm without overstimulating you. He was such a considerate lover.

“You taste so good,” he mumbled against you, giving you one last lick before kissing his way up your body. Sabo wrapped his hands around your waist, picking you up and swapping positions so you sat on his lap, facing him this time. He kissed you greedily, and you moaned against his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. The feeling of your skin on his skin was electric, and you rubbed your exposed cunt against his length.

The kiss broke when he moaned, his forehead dropping against your shoulder. “You’re so beautiful when you cum,” he whispered into your skin, rocking his hips against yours. “I wanna see that again.”

One of his hands came down between you two, thumb brushing rhythmically against your clit as you rocked against him. “God, Sabo. Please, please fuck me,” you begged. You never needed anything more than you needed his cock inside you at this moment.

“Such a good girl, so good for me. Whatever you want, angel,” he crooned, running his hands through your hair and tucking it behind your ears. The way he looked into your eyes made your heart clench. His hands readjusted you on his lap as he used one hand to position himself at your entrance. “Keep your eyes on me, I wanna see your face.”

Your face flushed, but you never broke eye contact with him. As you sank down on him, your eyes widened and your mouth dropped slightly with a gasp. “S- Sabo…” He was big, and he let you pause to adjust before settling all the way inside you. You were full, so full that your head clouded. Both of you held eye contact, as if that’s all you could do. His face was so soft, so kind. Your hands came up and cradled his cheeks, thumb brushing over his scar. Both of his arms wrapped around you, holding you against his chest. His hands pressed into your back, his long fingers spreading over your skin.

Sabo leaned forward and kissed you, gently and sweetly, as if you were providing the oxygen he needed to live. He rocked his hips, his cock pressing so deliciously into you. Your nipples rubbed against his chest as you both moved together, wrapped up in each other. The blonde kissed your cheek, moving down to your jaw and your neck. He sucked love bites into your skin, marking you. “You feel so good, so tight. You’re made for me, my love. So perfect,” he praised you so well, mumbling a nonstop stream of compliments into your skin. One of his hands snaked between you, finding your clit and rubbing circles into it. “That’s it, beautiful. Let yourself feel good.”

You watched as he concentrated, feeling his shallow thrusts and the orgasm building back up in your abdomen. “Aah, ‘m so full, Sabo. P- please.” As your eyes met again, your mouths met with some desperate hunger, teeth crashing together. The feelings were so intense, and you felt yourself being slightly lifted by one of Sabo’s arms before he started to thrust up into you in earnest. Gasps and moans escaped your lips, the combination of the quick and full thrusts with the thumb on your clit was too much. You stared into Sabo’s dark eyes as you came harshly and quickly, a smile forming across his face as he watched your climax. He kept fucking you, maintaining his quick pace. Your cunt spasmed around him, coaxing his orgasm from him as well as he spilled into you, pressing his cock as deep into you as it would fit.

Limply, you leaned against Sabo as he shallowly fucked himself through his orgasm, holding himself in you as he recovered. He pressed slow, lazy kisses against your shoulder and neck as you tried to regain your strength. “I love you’s” were mumbled into your skin, peppered there with the kisses.

You sat there for a while, both of you pressed together. “C’mon, angel. Let’s get cleaned up and go to bed,” Sabo mumbled. He pressed a kiss to your temple, scooping you up in his arms. You pressed yourself against his chest, closing your eyes, and feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

#one piece #one piece fanfic #sabo #one piece sabo #sabo x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #fanfic #sabo smut #x reader #im desperately in love with sabo

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beauty-and-passion · 3 months

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Lore Olympus: a golden mine of bad writing

As I said, one post wasn’t enough.

There is still a lot to say about this webcomic and in this post I would like to talk about how Zeus, Apollo and Kronos have been treated. Here I will focus on the first two acts only, because the third act is not over, as well as the story. And yes, that means I will write another post when this whole thing is over.

I wanted to focus on these three gods in particular because are treated in a way that baffles me and makes me question what did they ever do to Mrs. Smythe. Tell me, Rachel: was it something personal? Did they do something to your family? What happened?

But maybe you don’t understand my point, especially if you haven’t read the Greek myths at all and you think that these three are just “Unfaithful Guy”, “Rapist” and “Evil Villain Har Har Who Also Wants To Rape”. Seriously, what’s with this weird obsession with raping everyone and with sex? Did Mrs. Smythe ever see anything else in myths, besides sex?

So please, allow me to explain why their characterizations are wrong and boring - and no, not just from a mythological point of view.

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Zeus: the walking clichè

Making Zeus an asshole is understandable, even if utterly boring and clichè. Oh wow, he's an unfaithful husband and he's vain. Very original. Groundbreaking, I'd say. I’ve never read about him being unfaithful to his wife, not even once in all the 200 million retellings made during the history of mankind.

It's a shame because Zeus is much more than that. He's a mighty ruler with a strong sense of justice: in several myths, he punished the assholes for their wrongdoings. He's very clever and strong. He's also associated with xenia, the custom of offering protection to strangers, which means Zeus is also a protector of foreigners.

I mean, this information alone offers so many new perspectives about him! Just imagine if, instead of hanging around and doing nothing useful aside from being everyone’s favorite punching bag, Zeus fought against every corrupt system of the mortal realm, in order to protect the foreigners and the innocents. It would’ve been so cool to see a different side of him, instead of the same thing over and over again!

But nope, Zeus = unfaithful husband only. Let’s ignore all the other aspects of him, to focus on the one everyone focuses on. Let’s make him the umpteenth version of the same guy, instead of offering a new vision. This will surely make the story worth everyone’s time!

Rachel, this could’ve worked if I was 12 and had never read a retelling in my entire life. But since I’m more than twice that age, seeing Zeus as an unfaithful husband again doesn’t get my interest. And I’m sure this doesn’t only apply to me, but to everyone who already saw at least two retellings of him. Isn’t this story supposed to be new and original? Then why are we still picking from the same old clichè visions of these gods? Where is the writer’s personality and ability?

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Apollo: king of wasted potentials

I am absolutely, completely, 100% baffled at how Apollo has been treated in this story.

It's insulting to see the most beloved Greek god treated as a bidimensional piece of shit. Not only because he doesn't make any sense in the story (why is he here in the first place? Did Persephone and Apollo even interact in any myth?), but also because there are so many different possibilities for him, that seeing him being this is the biggest waste of potential I’ve ever seen.

A brief recap of who Apollo really is: Apollo is the embodiment of the sun. He is the god of arts and crafts. He's the most beautiful god, he embodies the concept of perfect Greek beauty. And he is associated with a lot of cool stuff, like medicine, truth and oracles. Also, like most of the other Greek gods, Apollo had many male and female lovers.

Now, look me in the eye and tell me that, with all of this, your first idea about him is "yeah, let's make him a stupid rapist, so stupid to not realize that hey, maybe forcing a girl to sleep with you will not make her fall in love with you". Oh and let's not forget he randomly decided he wanted Zeus' throne just after the fertility plot point had been introduced Because Yes. And he’s running for president of Whatever-Land Because Yes. Also, he’s currently involved again in another evil plot Because… yeah, you got it.

It’s just so frustrating to see him being the biggest loser of all time, considering how much cooler he could’ve been. Just think about it: we could've had a bisexual musician, who does concerts with his band (the Muses) and has a shit ton of lovers. We could’ve had a heartbroken doctor, who does his best to save everyone because he has not been able to save his own son from death (Asclepius). We could've had a mysterious advisor who can see the future because of his foresight powers.

What did we get instead? A fucking rapist.

Apollo is nothing but wasted potential. He’s an insult to himself, the story, common sense, and the Greek culture. Of all the incredible things he could've been, he became the most insulting of them all. I really cannot bear to see this fucking idiot and his punching-bag face, pretending to be Apollo. He’s not Apollo.

But if there is a guy I can see less than him, then let me introduce you to…

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Kronos: Supreme Master of Wasted Potential

First of all: why is Kronos here? Why does this love story need Persephone to defeat a big bad guy? Just to show how cool and badass she is? Considering that their fight was a joke, it didn't work very well.

But okay, let's say we need a villain Because Yes. Kronos is still a huge waste of potential, probably the biggest waste of potential of the whole series until now. He could’ve been an interesting, multifaceted character, but he became a cartoonish supervillain har-har I want power.

Sigh.

But let’s take a step back and talk about the real, mythological Kronos. His story starts with his parents, Uranus and Gaia. The two had a lot of sons, including Titans (like Kronos) and Hecatonchires (monsters with fifty heads and one hundred arms). Disgusted by their monstrous nature or maybe just out of fear of being overthrown, Uranus chained his sons away into Gaia's womb (aka the Tartarus) so that they could never come out again.

Gaia suffered from this decision, so she devised a plan: she made a stone sickle, gathered her sons and tried to persuade them to castrate Uranus.

All of her sons were afraid of Uranus, Kronos was the only one brave enough to do it. And he was successful: he overthrew his father and became the new ruler of the universe, along with his wife/sister Rhea.

However, after becoming king, he didn't free all of his brothers as his mother wanted, but locked Hecatonchires and Cyclopes away once again. And so, Gaia told him that, one day, he would meet his father’s same fate and be overthrown by one of his own children.

Scared by these words, Kronos devised a plan: every time he had a new child, he took the baby from Rhea and swallowed them. Rhea was desperate and, in order to save her last son Zeus, she sought Gaia's help.

So Rhea gave birth to Zeus in a secret place, then handed Kronos a stone wrapped in clothes: he swallowed it, thinking that it was his son. This way, Zeus managed to escape the same fate as his siblings and was raised in secret, away from his father, until he was old enough to come back and fulfill his destiny.

And now, you may think Zeus overthrew his father with a sword and killed him and nah nah nah, myths are not that stupid and predictable. Zeus didn’t use violence to overthrow his father, but intelligence. He disguised himself to reach Kronos' court and, at the right time, he gave him a drink. That drink was an emetic (given by Gaia), that forced Kronos to throw up everything he swallowed, in reverse order: first the stone he thought was his last son, then Zeus' brothers and sisters.

After freeing his siblings, Zeus did what his father would've never done: he released the Hecatoncheires and the Cyclops to help him in the following battle against Kronos and the other Titans, a battle known as Titanomachy.

The war ended with the victory of the Olympians (i.e. Zeus and his siblings). Many Titans were confined in Tartarus, under the Hecatonchires' control, others were not imprisoned and kept appearing in other myths.

And Kronos? His fate differs depending on the myths. In some versions, he was imprisoned in Tartarus. But according to other, more interesting versions, Zeus forgave him after years, freed him and Kronos became king of the Elysian Fields: the famous earthly paradise reserved for the greatest Greek heroes.

Now. Just look at all of this beautiful, beautiful potential.

We have Gaia, a powerful goddess who overthrew two rulers of the universe, without moving a finger. A goddess strong and clever, but also a mother who wanted all of her children to be free - even the most hideous ones. She could’ve been a tragic figure, a master manipulator, or an evil schemer. Or all these things!

We have the Hecatonchires: fighters so powerful, to turn the tide of any battle. They could’ve been scary and intimidating, but also tragic monsters who just wanted to be accepted. They could’ve taught a beautiful lesson about the importance of accepting the ugly and giving everyone a chance to prove themselves.

Then we have Kronos. And Kronos had everything to be the greatest character.

Think about this concept: Kronos has always been afraid of Uranus, just like his brothers. He was just better at hiding his feelings. And that visceral fear is still inside him, it still haunts him after centuries, just like the memory of how he overthrew his father. And that fear takes the shape of paranoid thoughts about his father coming back to take the throne.

Kronos could’ve seen his father haunting him, but he could’ve also dissociated and seen himself as his father. In his altered state of mind, he could’ve been both the king and the one who overthrows him.

That could’ve made him a truly dangerous, unhinged character. A god who can’t see what’s real anymore, obsessed with the ghosts of his past. A god with nothing to lose and everything to gain. After all, if he kills his children again, the throne would be his once more. And, since he sees himself as himself and as his father at the same time, he would think that he is the "true king" coming back to take his throne.

That could’ve been awesome. Kronos could've been complex, desperate and multifaceted, a villain to pity and to be afraid of. A truly new, interesting version to know and love.

And do you have any idea how incredible Zeus could’ve been in this version? We could see him facing Kronos again, still as strong and determined as when he was young. And while everyone would expect him to kill Kronos, he would use his intelligence once again. He would prove to Kronos (and to everyone else) how intelligence is always superior to violence and how he's a good leader, despite his thousands of flaws.

Also, we could've seen Zeus talking to the defeated Kronos and making him the ruler of the Elysian Fields. We could've had a meaningful ending, in which Zeus understands Kronos' fears and shares his own.

I would’ve adored this, because according to the myth, Zeus was also supposed to be overthrown by a son! Hence why he swallowed Metis (his first wife) while she was pregnant.

The myth never truly clarifies who this supposed "son" is, but according to the different versions, Metis was pregnant not with a son, but with a daughter. A daughter who, one day, would be born, full grown, from Zeus' head. A daughter who would become Zeus' favorite child: Athena.

Honestly? I ADORE the idea that there was never a son to overthrow Zeus, but a daughter. And she would not overthrow his father by violence like her grandfather or by intelligence like her father, but by love. Athena doesn't need to take the throne from her father physically, she doesn't even need to sit on that throne: not when her father loves her more than anything else.

And I love the idea that Zeus is aware of that. He knows his daughter is his weakness. He knows that, if she asks, he will willingly give her that throne, because he loves her too much. And I would've loved to see him sharing these thoughts with the defeated Kronos. It could've been a beautiful moment, to see Zeus talking with the fatherly figure he always missed from his life. It could've led to a beautiful, meaningful ending for a dramatic story.

But can you see the problem here? This concept works for a story about Zeus, not about Hades and Persephone! These two have nothing to do with Kronos! Heck, even Rachel Smythe knows it, considering she had to pull a stupid plot point out of thin air, to explain why Kronos would give a damn about Persephone!

In case you were wondering: yes, the fertility-magical-power-battery-thing is bullshit. Gods don’t need a magical battery to be powerful. And no, fertility goddesses are not rare either: Aphrodite, Demeter, Hera, even Artemis are just a few of the fertility goddesses in Greek mythology. Kronos could’ve picked his favorite from a large pool, instead of becoming an absolute creep with Persephone in the stupidest fight of all time.

And speaking of that, two words on the supposed “fight”. First of all, apologies to all fights for being associated with this thing, because this was anything but a fight: it was a cartoonish conversation accompanied by the umpteenth sexualization of Persephone, who first appeared fully naked, then with a dress so stupid to defy the laws of physics and perspective.

And if you don’t believe me, please see it by yourself: this is how the dress was supposed to be, according to episode 75

This is how it ended up. Apparently, the Fates didn’t predict how huge Persephone’s boobs would be and the neckline didn’t grow accordingly: I feared to see one of them slipping out from it anytime during the “fight”

Also, please appreciate how Persephone is turned to the side, but the dress’ stupidly huge neckline is shown from the front, otherwise we would’ve seen her full naked boobs.

And that stupid neckline kept bothering me throughout the whole “fight”, because it kept changing size. Check the episodes and see it by yourself: sometimes it’s smaller, other times it’s wider and it keeps moving in impossible ways. It drove me insane.

But since we’re talking about drawings, please allow me a very brief parenthesis about them too.

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The drawings are a joke

I am not an artist. I can barely draw a straight line by hand. But I studied art history, perspective, proportions and colors, so I’m not completely clueless.

But you don’t need to be clueless, to notice how bad the drawings became. If you have two eyes and saw another human being in your life before, then you can notice by yourself how bad they are.

It’s not a secret that Lore Olympus’ art style changed over time. In the beginning, this comic was characterized by a lot of straight lines and geometric shapes, alternating and mixing with gentle curves. There were blur effects, colored outlines, a lot of details that gave an overall dreamy, ethereal vibe to every chapter (like the soft glow that accompanied the gods).

But as the story progressed, these elements disappeared. The geometric shapes gave way to an overall “softness” and roundness. The dreamy vibes and blur effects were replaced by sharper, clearer drawings. A distinct black outline now marks every character.

And speaking of characters, they were the ones who changed more. Lore Olympus always had funny, silly faces but the characters were also able to be serious and look natural. Now all we have are grotesque faces: the characters are a collection of caricatures and no one has a normal expression anymore. Check by yourself, by confronting a random episode of the third act with the first one: they’re two different worlds.

The disproportions were common too, since episode one. But at least they were somehow plausible, while now they’re completely absurd. It’s as if Mrs Smythe completely forgot what a human being looks like.

And this is pretty evident in how all characters became a rough draft of the two protagonists: all women got Persephone’s face, all men become buff and huge, with wide-ass shoulders and teeny tiny heads. This is particularly obvious at the end of season 2 / start of season 3, when we see some of the funniest images ever, like Hades with a tiny head and shoulders as wide as the entire USA

Or this hilariously bad image of Zeus with clown shoes and a head as big as his deformed hand.

No excuse can justify these drawings: no one is running after Mrs Smythe, nor forcing her to draw, and people are paying her real money to work on this webcomic. The least she can do is draw something that doesn’t look like a bad distortion of a human being.

Unless this isn’t her drawing, but her staff’s work. In that case, they are still paid to do their job, right? Or do they think this story is a joke and decide to show how much of a joke it is, by turning everyone into a grotesque caricature?

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In conclusion

Lore Olympus is hilarious because of how bad the writing is. It’s a manual example of how not to write a climax for your story. It’s a perfect demonstration of how you can still fail, even with great characters with endless possibilities. It’s a list of all the mistakes you can make as an artist.

If you’re a writer or an artist in general, please check Lore Olympus and study it. Here you will find everything you should never do and all the mistakes you should never make.

As a writer myself, I appreciate Lore Olympus, because I need works that teach me what I shouldn’t do. Good teachers are useful, but bad ones are even more useful, because it’s thanks to them that I can learn and grow and make better stories. Lore Olympus might be a failure from an artistic and writing point of view, but it might also serve as a foundation, from which other people can develop better ideas.

Actually, it already did it! Do you want to read a better story, rose from the disappointing ashes of Lore Olympus? Then check Lore Rekindled and @genericpuff: you will find their work here on Tumblr. They planned everything ahead and it’s pretty clear by reading it. The characters make more sense, the events have a more logical explanation. And the art style is much, much better than the last Lore Olympus.

We will meet again for the third and (for now) final post about this series, a much-needed post about the protagonists of this story: Hades, Persephone and Demeter.

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(How about a coffee? ☕)

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rainbowdaisy13 · 23 days

Text

DNP Anon thanks for the message

I’m gonna give you my take because you asked—I have said from day 1, that Eras Tour seemed like a farewell tour to me. What I meant by that is that it seemed like her way of honoring and thanking the fans for everything they’ve done for the past 2 decades, but that her art and alllll the old versions of Taylor are being retired. Of course, as a Gaylor/Kaylor, I hope that means she’s moving into a more truthful time of her life for her own sake, but it could just as easily be a jump off point to take back her agency from the hoardes of fans who still feel a claim to her

I read the post you sent me and it’s pretty evident from the comments that Swifties still feel like she owes them specific attention—again not to repeat myself over and over, but this is a monster of TS the Business’ own creation—SS, hand picking people for meet n greets, sending fans personal notes and gifts, lurking on fans pages and then acting like she knows them personally has all come back to haunt her as she’s aged. Those fans can not comprehend that Taylor has gotten older, insurmountably more famous, and that the way she interacts with fans has understandably gotten less personal—they are no longer the special “friends” since she’s selling out stadiums left and right, and don’t know how to move forward from that

As far as TTPD, the lack of promo feels intentional to me as well—she’s a 34 year old woman, there’s no reason for grand theatrics anymore *if she doesn’t feel like doing it* We know all through her worldwide tour she’s been writing, directing, producing and recording god knows how many more projects and collabs

It’s my sincerest hope that Dear Reader was a heads up that TTPD signals a new beginning for Taylor to end her pathological people pleasing, and make art just for herself—whether that be in or out of the closet

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