《Fantasy Air [GL]》Chapter 4. Zero Privacy
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Arnacia noticed Isabelle slow down, so she gave Isabelle's apron another pull. They were still on the top of the hill.
'I only said the facts about this world.' Arnacia turned back and looked at the girl lit up in a halo of orange.
"That's the reality of this world. We sleep together and everyone knows I woo you on every chance I get," Arnacia turned away and said.
"But I am not Isabelle," the girl replied.
"If you suddenly don't act like Isabelle, everyone will think a demon possessd you," Arnacia looked into the distance. "And the knights of Lorein Kingdom will… execute you."
Isabelle's hand was covering her mouth, and she gaped in horror.
Arnacia pulled her apron again and led her towards the bathhouse. Along the way, she told her a few details about the world and promised to share more later.
To Isabelle, it felt like 'her lover' was a guarding angle that would stop at nothing to protect her. For how quickly the lover had accepted her despite the change in behavior. Additionally, ignored the fact that any sort of possession by demon was involved.
The two maids entered the bathhouse. Even Isabelle was shocked on knowing that it was a public bath. She wanted to leave, but Arnacia held her apron.
"Don't worry, only maids that you already know are here," Arnacia consoled.
"B-but I never entered a public bath before." Isabelle's pale face showed signs of red.
"This towel will be enough to cover… you," Arnacia picked by a white towel.
But she doubted it would cover the huge Isabelle properly. Then she looked at her own self.
'I am just bigger than before, gladly not as big as her.' She looked at Isabelle with the corner of her eyes.
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Arnaica untied the ribbon of her apron and slipped out of the maid costume under protecting a towel.
'No lingerie makes the dress feel so airy. Gladly, the gown is made so it will support these buttercups.' She mused and adjusted the towel around them properly.
"Isabelle, adjust the towel like this, this will be over quickly," Arnacia put her hand over Isabelle's shoulder.
"But this body is so embarrassing…"
Despite the verbal resistant, Isabelle slowly removed her clothes. She also used the towel to hide herself, but her actions weren't as clean as Arnacia. Gladly, no one was looking at her.
"I can't go inside. This towel barely fits," Isabelle said. Her one hand was holding the tower above her chest, while the other was behind her back. She pulled the towel downwards below her stomach again. Then quickly used the same hand to cover her butt.
Arnaica looked at Isabelle and smiled wryly. 'Couldn't the writer have made one towel bigger? I bet she was aiming for this scene.'
"Hide behind me, it will be alright," Arnacia said.
This was the most logical thing for her character to do. If the towel did not fit Isabelle, then it would be Arnacia who would always protect her.
'Arnacia is crazy, I guess she would've used her own towel to cover Isabelle.' Failed as the character again, Arnacia shook her head and slowly moved forward.
Suddenly, she jerked her head towards the side when a hand landed on her shoulder. It was only Isabelle who was moving as close to Arnacia as possible.
The sudden pause made Isabelle crash onto Arnacia. If not for her holding the towel, the spillage would've killed Isabelle from embarrassment.
"Stay steady now," Arnacia let Isabelle's hand rest on her shoulder.
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Moving forward, the scene of maids washing themselves entered her eyes. Everyone's wet hair was tied up and their bodies covered with foam.
'Wait, did they have soaps in medieval times or it's the writer who wants to avoid censorship?'
"Isabelle! Are you still not feeling well?" Rosalia's voice echoed, and all gazes turned towards the newcomers. She was inside a wide tub. No, it was like a mini pool but shallow.
"Miss Rosalia, forgive my dear Isabelle. Punish me instead," Arnacia spoke.
Something like this had happened in the novel before. 'Arnacia begs the witch to punish her instead of Isabelle. Nailed it!' She felt good that finally, she did something worthy to be called Arnacia.
"As a punishment, you two are not to wash your hair today. Cleanse yourself fast," Rosalia snorted and closed her eyes.
Arnacia frowned on seeing the steam flowing out of the tub. 'Why is the water hot?' Looking around, she slowly walked towards two empty stools at the end of the bathhouse.
Rest of the maids were rubbing themselves with a scrub?
Arnacia stole a few glances at the maids. There were five, excluding Isabelle and herself. Many things about them were still a mystery since she had not caught up to the novel.
Isabelle was now standing at the last stool, whereas Arnacia was between her and another maid.
'Time to take off the towels…' The towels were supposed to be hanged on a small handle above the tap.
'Zero privacy…' Arnacia looked at Isabelle, who was panicking like a fawn. Her hands were alternating between adjusting towel at front and hiding the back.
Quickly, Arnacia removed the towel and hung it on the handle.
Even before she touched the towel, she had squeezed her legs together. After it was removed, she pressed on her upper body and forcefully sat down on the stool.
Seeing the live example, Isabelle also tried to do the same. But little did she notice all eyes were on her now. Even the maid sitting at the other end could see her. Some maids shamelessly turned her heads towards Isabelle. While others, like Arnacia, looked with the corner of their eyes.
"Seeing Isabelle never gets boring," one maid whispered.
"Shh… if Arnaica hears, she will sprout trouble for you," another said.
Arnacia faintly heard the voices, but couldn't make out the meaning. Ignoring everyone, she rubbed soap over her body. Soon, she was shrouded with foam. Only then she picked up the scrub. Isabelle also followed suit.
"Arnacia, are you not going to wash Isabelle today?" the maid sitting beside Arnacia said.
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The Devil's own sins
Writer updates available for free on patreon. The following account, dear reader, is a recollection and retelling of the story of the first imp. The last devil born from the original primordial pit at the dawn of time, and the lowliest speck of that first generation. It recounts the tale of Thozronnath the pitiful and his steady rise from obscurity, perpetually stuck as a punching bag for his betters until the day hell itself spat him out. The information presented here is pieced together from eye-witness reports and second hand hearsay, sometimes from creatures with more than two hands. I can not tell you with any degree of accuracy how much of it is true as it begins long before our time and it's true ending lies far unto the future still. I can tell you one thing though, it was confusing as hell. Cover: Illustration for John Milton's Paradise Lost by Gustave Doré (1866), a thankfully public domain image. Currently on hiatus. Disclaimer: I am not a writer. I am a student. I am not a writing student. This is liable to contain errors, bad practice, mistakes, and poor choices.
8 186Sand (Hiatus-2/01/18)
‘If you can survive the trials of treading a million nails, would you still go? If you are willing to encounter death at every step, dreading the next, are you still willing to enter? If you leave and experience the trials further still, would you do so? If you find yourself being pursued by everyone and everything, chasing you down to the edge of the cliff, would you jump to certain death or fight back and be labeled as a monster? You can choose whether or not you want to change your life right at this doorstep. If you do say no, then nothing will happen to you. If you say yes, then your life will change. Succeeding will bring you great power. And if you fail, then you will be enslaved within Oblivion for eternity. What is your answer?’ Tus heard the ancient voice that sounded like sandpaper as he stared at the altar with the land and sky frozen in motion. The words repeated themselves over and over again, forcing him to answer without the chance of taking it back. Armed with a borrowed sword and cheap armor that looked like wood, he said aloud without hesitation, “Yes!” The altar hummed, a green light flickered in the surroundings, and Tus ceased to exist.
8 196The Mind Hack
Reality is defined by what we, see, hear and feel. What would happen if you are unable to tell the difference between what is real and fake? When a computer AI starts testing a virtual holographic system on two unsuspecting men, they must race to find a way out of the computer that is hacking their minds and attacking New York.Tolbert, a simple room attendant is unexpectedly caught up in a holographic projection. He must decide what is real and what is not. The fate of the world hangs in the balance, as aliens and monsters ravage the centre of New York. An army of raptors led by trolls engage an alien menace.Striker, a computer gamer and hacktivist notices that a fellow gamer is being attacked in the game and seeks to find out what is going on. He must find and shut down the cause of it all before the world he knows is destroyed forever.
8 201What We Do to Survive
Orion had never asked for any of this. He would have been happy living out his life in obscurity as son, brother, husband, maybe even father and grandfather. Unfortunately, life and a cruel world had other plans for him. Years later, he joins Avalon Academy, the greatest school of mages in the known world. Unfortunately, Avalon is better known for its incredible lethality and the cutthroat attitude it promotes among its students. The Academy's graduates number among the strongest mages in the world, but only a rare few live long enough to join that illustrious number. Updates every Mon/Fri and some Wednesdays. Absolutely horrible, screwed up things can and will happen, do not read if you are uncomfortable with that sort of content. On a similar note, please be advised that the story contains explicit content. If you do not want to read that sort of thing, then this story is not for you.
8 1690Mr. Perfect & Miss Troublemaker
"Look Ayan...," I started, ready to announce my decision, "I know your brother is a total weirdo and can't do romance and stuff but I can't ignore his good qualities. I mean it's not like I am head over heels for him but yeah, he seems like a good guy. Now, if he proves to be a jerk in future, then I'm sure I won't think twice before breaking his bones. Therefore, you can tell him I'm ready for the marriage." "Well thank you, my lady. I promise you won't regret your decision," I heard him and immediately recognised the owner of the voice. It wasn't Ayan. Shit!! Did I just make a fool of myself in front of HIM. Oh my Allah! "And about that romance thing..." He spoke again as he turned to me and I swear I could hear my heartbeats, "I'll prove you wrong after marriage." ...Ashiya Zarin, a 24 year old practicing muslimah who is crazy, sweet and innocent. She's cheerful and loves to make others happy. What happens when she meets Ahan Rahman, a smart, straightforward and serious guy? Start reading to know about their journey full of comedy, surprises and of course romance.
8 136Legacy of the Demon Lord
An orphan of war forged by the fires of war into a cpapable mercenary meets his end on the battlefield only to find that death is only beginging and a new life awaits him. He is born into a new life where the horrors of war are a far forgotten and burried memory as he finds comfort and warmth in his loving family, but the flames of war are never far behind. What is going to happen awaits to be seen. P.S. I am terrible at theese things.
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