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torturingpeople · 4 months ago

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Sinking Ship

Wordcount: 1.9k words Featuring: Edison Hollingsworth, Lionel L. Sotheby Other info: do they like or hate each other, there is Drama, little hints at what their relationship is actually like, set in Lionel’s string instrument store (because I need to make his luthier title relevant LOL)

LL Sotheby & Co.’s is always rather quiet. After all, it is no Nikolas Pawnbrokers or Dauncey’s. But Edison does not stand for silence and Lionel stands just about as much for his antics.

There was a high-pitched ding, followed by a few more subtle rings, fading into silence once Edison pushed the door open fully. The bell stilled, and the luthier behind the desk lifted his head from polishing a violin, beginning his customary greeting. Once Edison let the door go, the bell jingled again, mixing in with the door slam.

‘Welcome to LL Sotheby & Co., London’s finest lu—’

‘It is just me, Lionel, no need to commit to your store-clerk spiel,’ Edison waved his hand dismissively in the man’s direction, sauntering into the store with clicking steps.

Upon taking the man in properly, Lionel raised an eyebrow, then both, and eventually his expression settled into something erring on the side of concern. ‘It is… The choice you have made to come here is not… ideal, on account of my current reputation, but… it is no matter.’ He gave a disgruntled hum, and the volume of his speech lowered in turn. ‘I should pay a visit to the tomb-colonies, or the church, sooner or later, anyway. Whichever comes first.’ Lionel began to sheathe his violin into a plush, velvet case, drawing a cloth over its smooth, amber wood before closing the case and exchanging it for a viola to clean. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I told you, I am not a client.’ Edison placed his hands firmly on each hip, his countenance unimpressed.

Lionel did not lift his eyes from the viola, unbothered. ‘You are in a store; I am at work; ergo, you are a customer. I do not wish to behave unprofessionally at my workplace, if that is what you are implying, Mr. Hollingsworth.’

‘Can I not be in your company now, without it being inexplicably tied to — oh — the scandal, the humanity, the horror of being anywhere near me?’ Edison’s expression, for a fraction of a second, softened with disappointment, but did not hesitate to crystallise with bristling irritation. ‘Truly, is it so awful that I am in your presence?’

‘No, prince — if anything, it is pleasant — but I am merely experiencing a recent bout of scandal, and if we consider scandal to be… a boat, let us say,’ he flicked his gaze up, ‘you could capsize me by blinking, dear.’ Lionel clarified, shaking his head as he withdrew a block of rosin, drawing it gently over the bow hairs. He smiled calmly at the tiny hums they let off, taking caution in caring for the instrument meticulously.

Giving a small huff at the evidently misdirected, Edison began to wander around the small store, dipping into rooms and observing each string instrument curiously. Some were hung on hooks bolted to the teal green walls, whereas others were gently organised on stands. The most ornate and intricate instruments sat on display in the bay-windows, to hopefully entrance any passers-by into entering the store or purchasing one. Edison didn’t even want to think about the obscene prices they might harbour, instead returning to the front of the store and perching himself on the counter, a hooked finger tempting a pull of the bow strings.

Lionel did not hesitate to slap him away, giving him a stern look while pointing a finger at his chest. ‘No. Do not touch the instruments.’

‘Pay some mind to me, and perhaps I will keep my hands to myself,’ Edison retorted in a stroppy huff.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Lionel leaned against the counter. ‘Are you three years old?’

‘Thirty-three, as a matter of fact.’

‘You act instead as if you have just left primary school.’

‘You cannot even meet my eye,’ Edison’s tone shifted from annoyance to desperation. There was something unsaid lingering on his tongue, threatening to leap off, but he swallowed it down and kept his gaze somewhere to the floor. ‘Fine. If I depart now, will you at least leave me a kiss upon my lips?’

There was a long pause. Lionel placed down the wad of rosin, closed his eyes to breathe deeply, and pressed his forehead into his now empty palm. Frustration. Then processing time. He weighed up his options carefully — risk exile, or risk Edison traipsing off to God knows where to get his fill. The sensible choice became obvious rather quickly. ‘You can stay, but do not be a nuisance. I am working and we are in public. Heaven forfend anyone sees you in here… you are lucky Thursday tends to be quiet.’

Edison rolled his eyes, leaning over the desk and making gestures to the empty rooms inside of the store, and the empty street outside of the store. ‘Yes, because I am sure you are the Neath’s busiest shop to ever be in business. Just look at how many people are in here. There is a queue outside waiting for you already.’

Lionel almost gave into the urge to look up but caught onto Edison’s deadpan tone, instead giving a low, disgruntled hum. He pulled out a stool from under the desk, placed it opposite, then gestured toward it in an offering manner, for the man at his side. ‘Here. Sit.’ His voice hardened. ‘And stop acting like a three-year-old boy.’

Sauntering over to the stool, Edison placed himself onto it, swinging his legs around its legs and carefully leaning forward. There was a long and taut silence, only broken by the imperceptible hum of rosin being drawn along strings, the soft and discordant harmonies overshadowed by even the lightest chatter outside. And everything was rather calm in the store — almost like a sanctuary of sorts, despite the light, noxious hint of tension thickening the atmosphere with its subtle poison. Neither Lionel nor Edison were choking on it. Yet.

‘‘You have a nice store here,’ he mumbled, gazing around the mint walls furnished with lutes and harps and violins and the like. ‘Perhaps I will write a poem about it… “rows upon rows of violins and cellos”... what do you think, dear?’

‘Very nice, my prince,’ murmured Lionel in response, his attention more honed in on tending to the strings of the violin.

Raising an eyebrow, Edison folded his arms. ‘What was the line?’ He forced his inflection to rise with fabricated curiosity.

‘Have you forgotten already?’ Lionel even had the audacity to return the question in a sarcastic tone. However, upon actually looking up and seeing the man’s frankly rather deadpan stare, his eyes widened in a caught fashion. He began to twirl a strand of hair around his finger with a palpable guilt. ‘Ah.’

Edison’s arms looped around each other tighter. ‘It seems it is you who has forgotten already.’

‘Well, forgive me for being at work. Next time I shall schedule myself to conform to your exact whim and desire.’ Lionel riposted with a wry smile. He then placed the block of rosin in its container.

And then there was another long, witless pause. Neither gentleman spoke a word but the silence was by no means comfortable. They both had something resting on their lips, on their tongues, in their throats, waiting to come out. Something lovely or vile; something raw. But, chained to standard and politeness neither spoke. But the air was becoming more and more suffocating.

Edison suffered in the quiet. He had never been a man able to deal with long pauses. He had half a mind to speak into existence whatever was roaming on his tongue, desperate for some kind of mental stimulation, positive attention, negative attention, literally anything that might signify Lionel felt more than just annoyance. That was all he wanted. To be something other than annoying. So he was willing to be silent if it made him bearable to be around.

Lionel, however, was not willing to asphyxiate any longer. ‘Why are you acting like this?’

With a twitch of his eyebrows, Edison gave a huff. So much for staying quiet. If anything, he shouldn’t have gratified the question with a response. ‘Even when I am deathly silent, you—’

‘You know what I speak in reference to.’

Edison felt his face become hot beneath its surface. A pink tint was most definitely weaving itself into the peachier tones. His words, laying dormant in his cheeks, began to bundle up with the urge to come out, with no regard to coherence. But most of all, he felt caught. ‘Is it a crime that I want your attention?’

‘I am working.’ The word came out of Lionel’s mouth like a freshly-sharpened poniard. ‘You are bothering me while I am at work. I am trying to finish a task. And, as per usual,’ he gave a loose gesture to Edison, ‘you are being a nuisance.’

‘As per usual?’ Edison scoffed, holding himself in offence. ‘So that is all I am to you? A nuisance? A bother?’

‘It appears you can hear perfectly.’ Lionel dug around in the pocket of his waistcoat, pulling out a few rings and a pendant, dropping them onto the counter between them. ‘If I give you these, will you — for lack of a better description — get lost?’

Blinking in genuine and utter shock, Edison nearly reached forward for the jewels and gold, his hand clenching between himself and the desk. ‘Every time, I glean the inkling you may care about me.’

‘Then you are a fool.’ Lionel responded quickly.

‘No, Lord Sotheby, it is you who plays the fool. Because you cannot understand love, when it comes to visit you, or when it holds your hand, or when it asks you to dinner. All you do is shut me down, when all I want is to—’

‘I understand love perfectly well, Mr. Hollingsworth.’ Lionel interrupted and stood from the counter, placing the fresh violin into the rack, like a puzzle-piece settling to form a full image. He tilted his head back, a ripple in his deep black hair following. ‘Hence why you are the fool; I am not in love with you.’

‘How — how can you say that, when—’

‘These gifts mean nothing to me, if that is what you wish to be your evidence,’ Lionel returned to the counter, his finger pointing to the jewels still upon it. ‘It would do you well to take them. Pawn them off and spruce up the… hovel you live in.’ As if he had not just deeply wounded Edison, he gave a falsely sweet smile.

Edison took the jewellery, finally, in a tight grip. ‘Of course. You give me your stolen shit, as usual, because I am not worth anything more to you than pickpocketed goods.’

Lionel raised an eyebrow. ‘Precisely.’

A dejected shock washed over Edison. He might have been half-convinced Lionel was lying to get on his nerves. ‘You do not deserve my heart.’

‘By all means,’ Lionel managed a laugh, ‘take it out of my open hand, Mr. Hollingsworth. You dropped it into my palm and expected me to want it. That is not how love works — that is reckless desperation.’ He leaned over the counter, nearing Edison with something dangerous playing on his words. Something so painfully alluring, like the thorn of a rose. ‘So, remind me, who is the fool again?’

Edison shook his head and tried to form words as his jewellery-clutching hand slipped into his pocket, loosening the goods into it. He then thought, instead of answering his questions, about how many times Lionel had tried to shoo him off. And perhaps it was better for him to just leave, anyway. The jingle of the bell above the door signified his leave.

AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:

i am yet to find an accurate description for their relationship. maybe situationship? maybe odd threeway polyrelationship with the mc? just straight up Weird? we will never know. it’s too nuanced for me to not write 20 paragraphs about

#this was an ache to write #but i finally have it done #enjoy the drama #the sybaritic laureate #the prodigal luthier #writing #tposts #tprose #tp ocs

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elitisim · 3 months ago

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so, i hit 1k sometime in the beginning of June ✨🥳. Which means my incessant yapping about absolutely nothing on every post I make and multiple months-long unannounced hiatuses didn't scare all of you off yet, so thanks for that y'all.

No, but for real tho, I genuinely want to express my gratitude to each and every one of you for putting up with me and all my BS, so my 1k+ gift exclusively consists of hairs requested by YOU! Which is totally about giving back to the community that has supported me and NOT just an excuse to dump all the requests that have been sitting here piling up for months.

there are only 7 hairs in the preview image but a bunch of these are from sets, so all-in-all you're getting 17 female hairs!

INFORMATION:

None of this is my original work! All mesh credit goes to @sheabuttyr, @ebonixsims, @daylifesims, @simstrouble!

Set contains 17 hairs for for Teen ➤ Elder Females

due to how the meshes where made the Poloma Passion Twists and Monae Beads don't have root/tip controls so they’re only 2 channels the rest are 4 like normal.

credits, preview pictures, links to originals, poly counts and individual download links for every hair is under the cut.

polycounts are ALL over the place. Lowest hair is +10k, Highest one is +32k. Please reference the list under the cut before downloading!

Files comes in two flavors: Merged and Unmerged

Both types contain the exact same type of stuff (package file and preview images) except version one is one big merged file and the version has individual files.

[DOWNLOAD MERGED]

[DOWNLOAD UNMERGED]

[PICK AND CHOOSE]

Tagging list: @pis3update, @naturalhair-sims3, @xto3conversionsfinds, @kpccfinds