#[���]. sunkissed letters

[solvisun]

would kei be the type to propose after a few months into your relationship (maybe a year), absolutely sure that this is what he wants and sees in the future, or propose only after you’ve spent years and years together? finding comfort in familiarity and routine.

the latter!! tsukishima kei takes most things slow, evident from his friendships. proposing after a year is something he can’t wrap his head around—no matter the depth of his affections, or how sure he is that you’re it for him— he values the time and space to walk through the journey of life with you, often having to navigate together & getting lost all the same.

although it’s a little silly that, despite having no ring on your finger, the domesticity has already settled within so comfortably that it comes as second nature. no questions asked.

moving in an apartment. listing groceries. paying taxes. doing chores. but in all of this, he thinks about proposing, too. a lot, if he’d like to admit. how he should act, how it would go, how you’d feel. in a way that’s natural. no questions needed.

he makes the effort to be romantic, despite the lack of it in his bones. its gradual, a little slow if you’re impatient, but rest assured that as long as he gets to have a home with you, your love is sheltered from any doubts that he’s not willing to get down on one knee for you. because he absolutely will. already has been on his head too many times. and you’ll never know half of it if you don’t say yes.

[servicpop]

kinktober week 2 — edging & public/voyeurism(?) subby cole ( cowboy oc ) x bttm ( "showgirl" ) m reader

ⓘ voyeurism because cole is naked & outside , hand job ( cole receiving ) , he gets a cold from it

It was a quiet evening in Cole's hometown with you and him sat thigh to thigh on his plush swing chair out on the porch of his house. The streets weren't busy beside the occasional herder dog chasing after a stray sheep — to which you and Cole got a good laugh at.

This was the grace period of your work, no shows scheduled for the week, no meetings, and you were contact free from your boss. So, you spent the first day of the week travelling from the city to the countryside where Cole lived, and he was ecstatic seeing you again. You remember so vividly what happened when you showed up in the town. All the townsfolk practically knew every bit about you from how much Cole would talk about you and show off the polaroids you'd send to him via letters.

Asking where Cole was wasn't difficult since people were quick to usher you to Cole, leading you to the stables where he was tending the horses. The moment he saw you his eyes widened as if seeing an angel and he stumbled over his own boots from how fast he was running to you. He swooped you up in his arms and lifted you up from the ground almost cartoonishly with the way he nuzzled his face into you. Cole also spun you around a few times which undoubtedly made you feel a bit dizzy.

"Whaddaya smilin' so hard for, sugar?" Cole giggled at you smiling like an idiot; the laughter just bubbled out his throat. He leans his face closer to yours, only an eyelash away as he interrogates your random smile.

"Just thinking," you hum, still grinning ear to ear with your arms tangled and coiled around his. Cole doesn't believe you for a second and you can see it in the way one of his eyebrows raise. He moves in to brush his cheek against yours, cuddling up to you as the porch swing rocked delicately.

Cole's skin is more bronzed than before, his cheeks were dusted with sunkissed freckles, and his eyelashes seemed to have grown a bit longer, but his dimples never changed. Those dents in the side of his cheek always seemed to appear when you were around him.

You can feel his hands wrap around your waist a little tighter and your ears start to pick up Cole's slightly laboured breathing. You were about to ask if he was alright before you see him move his felt cattleman hat over his lap. That quirks your eyebrow.

"What's this?" You ask him with a playful chuckle, brushing your fingertips along the fabric of the hat.

"Don't stare sweets, it's just my body actin' up," He murmurs behind your shoulder, shrinking into the darkness between your back and the chair, "I'm embarrassed."

You giggle at his reaction; Cole is too pure for his own good. Your fingers slide underneath his hat, resting your hand on his inner thigh. "You don't have to be all shy, you know I won't judge," you coo, rubbing the fabric of his denim jeans lightly, but Cole squirms at the ticklish sensation nonetheless. His hand darts out to grip your forearm with shaky fingers like he was debating if he should actually stop you or not.

"Honey, not here," his voice almost reaches that whiny tone when he gets desperate for something. Despite his words, Cole doesn't even seem to notice his own hand guiding yours closer to his crotch. Its like he acts subconsciously, like its programmed into his brain to let you touch him. He lets out a small sigh of defeat, his head dropping back to rest on your shoulder as his hands move to clutch the top of his hat.

"Just— Just a little," his voice cracks and he's stuttering but you know that's his way of giving you the greenlight. You find your way to his belt buckle, slowly undoing it incase he wanted to back out and stop. He doesn't, so you slip off the belt and pull the zipper down.

Cole is hard. You see it through his light gray boxers, he's twitching, begging for you to give it some attention.

The cool breeze of the afternoon air reminds you that you're outside on his porch, nothing blocking his body but his hat. You glance up at Cole's face and it seems his cheeks have gotten significantly more pink and his pearly whites are caught onto his chapped, equally pink lip. There's a glossy sheen over them from saliva and you know its because he's been licking his lips repeatedly — a habit you've realised he does when he's flustered or nervous.

"You okay?" You giggle softly, shooting him a genuine look before stretching the fabric of his waistband down to rest below his aching dick.

"Yup, mighty fine darlin'." He's lying, and you know because Cole has his fist to his mouth and he's biting down on his pale skin to try and control himself. In reality, he's leaking all over your palm already, and his pale pink tip is dyed an angry red now.

You first use the tips of your fingers to cage around the base of his cock, dragging it all the way up lightly until it reaches the head. Cole is already whining and whimpering into his fist from the ticklish feeling. You see the slight tremble in his thighs when you slide your thumb around and over the slit of his tip, smearing his pre-cum everywhere.

"Oh, hellfire," he barks out but its more of a puppy's bark. The phrase 'hellfire' is an unfamiliar term for a city boy like yourself, but you're smart enough to understand that it's an old-timey phrase for a swear word. It's cute with the way he's crumbling at your hands but still makes an effort not to use "big city curses," as he calls it.

You finally move your hand to wrap around Cole's girth, stroking at a slow pace at first before increasing the speed. Its a vulgar sound from the lack of lube but his copious amounts of pre makes up for it. You feel every single vein throb at the feeling of your palm rubbing against it, pulsing with need.

"Hah, you're too good at this," he praises through a clenched jaw and laboured breaths. It isn't long before Cole catches your rhythm, bucking his hips up to match your hands. The porch swing rocks slightly more as he's thrusting up into your hand, his hat long gone as he's now fully exposed to those who walk by.

His moans become a little more throaty and you can tell he's enjoying it with the way his legs squirm as if he's being restrained from moving. Cole's eyes are screwed shut and his eyebrows are knitted together but his mouth slightly gapes into an 'o' shape, shamlessly letting out groans and whimpers.

Your fast paced stroking starts to slow down, and Cole's eyes fling open. "Wh–what are you doing?" He fluttered his thick eyelashes, looking down at your hand slowly pumping his cock. You don't respond to him, slowly increasing the pace but never speeding it up enough to tip him over the edge.

"Sweetheart, please." You swear you see tears brimming his eyes as he tries to move his hips to your hand and it does succeed for a bit. He's seeing stars as your hand just glides along his dick, feeling up every place that he's sensitive at. Its not enough though, your hand is barely squeezing him and it feels like a half-assed attempt to jerk him off.

"Baby, please just— clench your hand harder, please," he pleads, cupping your hand with his but he's so gentle with you it doesn't do anything. He's so close, he's teetering off the edge of an orgasm but he's not there yet. It almost hurts with how bad he wants to cum but he can't. Your hand ghost's over his tip and his body jerks forward from the touch but you pull away again and that heat in his stomach dies again.

He lets out a shaky breath of relief when he feels your hand clamp around him once more. Cole shoots you a glare, squeezing your hand tighter as if he's ensuring that you don't pull away again and mumbles, "I don't trust you no more."

You giggle and shake your head apologetically, "Sorry, sorry, I won't do it again," you promise, and you even bring your free hand to palm the tip of Cole's dick. He's whimpering again the second one of your hands is rubbing his head and the other is pumping his length.

His head is strewn back, adams apple bobbing at each harsh swallow. Cole feels your breath fan his tip and his eyes fling open, his whole body tensing as he watches you press a kiss to his red cockhead.

He orgasms right then and there, accidentally splashing your face with his seed.

"Ah— sorry 'bout that... you okay?"

You lift your head and Cole's hand wipes the cum off your face, "Maybe I deserved that," you chuckle. The sun had already disappeared behind the horizon and the streetlamps were starting to flicker on. Cole's shoulders jerk as he sneezes.

"Might've caught a cold from bein' out here, naked, all because of you," he huffs dramatically, pulling up his boxers and his jeans. "You gon' nurse me to heal if I do?" He flashes his teeth in a toothy smile and he has that post-orgasmic glow to his face.

"Yeah, yeah I will."

[arcielee]

Fare Well

Photo credit.

Summary: You visit Aegon after another council meeting ends. Paring: Aegon Targaryen x female!reader Word Count: 1600+ Warnings: Reader AFAB, knifeplay, object penetration, kissing, p in v, creampie, using intercourse as an escape from reality. Author’s Note: Listen, the new trailer came out and our muses are buzzing again. This smutty piece was inspired by this story by @valeskafics as well as this beautiful edit by the beautiful @bucknastysbabe. The title is from Hozier, as you all should come to expect now, and this can also be read on ao3. This is dedicated to @f4ll-for-you, my wonderful Tumblr kindred spirit who made me into the Aegon girly I am today. 💜 A huge thank you to @targaryen-dynasty for beta reading and making sure this all made sense. 💜 Enjoy!

“What troubles you, your grace?”

You had remained in the shadows and listened to the voices grow louder, though still muted through the walls, with their worries of what was to come next. They exited one by one, the morose men chosen to serve the king’s council, with the lord commander of the kingsguard escorting the queen dowager donned in green, her eyes downcast and her expression etched with her perpetual worry since her lord husband had passed. The lord hand was the last to leave, his face lined and wearied, his slow gate returning him to the tower where he would–as Aegon confided to you–continue to pen letters to garner support across the realm. 

It was only then that you dared to enter the room. You saw Aegon was seated at the head of the table, his violet gaze placed on the Valyrian dagger in his hands, the iron and rubies that once belonged to the Conqueror gleaming above him. 

The sun was streaking through the windows behind, giving him a kingly glow. His hair was a shade lighter and his cheeks sunkissed from the hours aback Sunfyre; despite the threat beyond the horizon, you knew that Aegon enjoyed patrolling the skies with his brothers.

It was these little confessions that he shared with you in the clandestine moments stolen within the walls of the Red Keep. He told you how he wished to be distracted, to allow a reprieve for his mind that weighed heavy with this anointed crown, and you were just this distraction, flesh and blood pulsing with your desire. 

It was then he looked up to see you still shyly posted in the doorway. “You seemed troubled, your grace,” you repeated with kindness, with concern. 

“I am now always troubled, it feels,” his smile was forced. “It seems to be something that comes with the weight of this.” He removed the crown and it echoed dully as he dropped it on the table. “But perhaps you can serve your king.” 

Your foot pushed the door until it closed soundly, and you took a step towards him. For a moment you saw the boy you had grown up with, mischievous and smirking, peering up at you from beneath the title of king. “This is why I am here,” your reply was sultry, and you saw how the black began to swallow the color of his eyes. “To serve, your grace.” 

Aegon sheathed the dagger and set it aside his crown before slouching back to spread his legs wider in the ornate chair he sat. Your stomach tightened at the sight of his thick outline against his thigh, pressing through his slacks, and you felt the flutter of that desire trilling your spine, spilling back into your veins. 

Your heart vibrated beneath and his lips curled upwards when he noticed where your eyes fell. His large hand patted his thigh. 

The gesture summoned you and you moved within his arms reach. He pulled you onto his lap, his face burying into the curve of your neck with a groan, a deep inhale that tickled. “Your grace,” you giggled, squirming in his hold, your blood warming your skin. 

“It is only us now,” he murmured against your skin, “and all I wish now is  to tear away these layers, lay you on this table, and have what lies beneath your finery.” 

“You would not dare,” you whispered, your eyes bright. 

His fingers dug into your hip while his other hand snaked under your thighs to lift you up from his seat. You giggled again, your arm quick to wrap around his neck to brace for his step forward as he set you on the edge of the table. His hands pawed at your layers, searching to find the dagger and he began to slice through your fabric.  

Your surprise spilled from your lips. “Aegon!”

He did not falter, but sheathed it and set it back down so his hands could grab fistfuls, tearing away the fabric to allow you room to part your thighs and welcome him. Your hands moved from his chest and combed through his hair, smoothing the indent left behind from his crown. He hummed from your touch, his hands moving from your hips and following your curves to your backside, pulling you closer so he could tilt his chin forward and capture your lips. 

His kiss devoured you wholly, pulling the air from your lungs with the dizzyingly desperation of his lips against your own. Your arms wrapped again around his neck and you rolled your hips for friction against the warmth he emitted through his royal garb, your fingers clawing at the fabric. 

You could feel his smile against your lips, his fingers returning to his hold on your hips. The outside of his palm rested on the dip and his thumbs pressed to the bone, eliciting a pleasure that jolted through you. You moaned softly and his mouth broke away, wet kisses that now trailed along your jaw, his teeth nipping at the slope of your neck. 

“Aegon,” you could not help but whine, and you tightened your legs around his hips. 

He turned to look at you, his expression unreadable, flushed. For a moment you were lost in his heady gaze, only brought back once you felt his hand trailing the detailing of your bodice and pressing until you laid back on the table. His other hand retrieved the dagger once more and your smallclothes were cut away, the air crisp against the slick between your thighs. 

“So wet for me already,” he clucked his tongue, “and I have barely begun.” 

Your stuttered response only further goaded him. His brow cocked. “What was that?” 

“Please,” you licked your lips. “Touch me, Aegon. Please.”

The darkness in his eyes glittered with the sunlight, and his satisfaction curled across his square jaw. “No. Not quite yet.” 

Before you could protest, you felt the pressure of something that was smooth, almost cool to the touch. You peered down to see the sheathed dagger pressed sideways to your bare cunt, the ruby stone sliding against the slick, the blossom of your arousal allowing him a circular motion of the gemstone against the bundle of nerves.  

You shuddered in response, your skin rising on your thighs and chest, and your head fell back, your hands pressing flat on the polished wood to anchor yourself. The unfamiliar touch began to build a familiar sensation, something that fluttered throughout, catching your exhale in your throat. 

“Aegon,” you cried, his name spilling sickly sweet from your lips, an endearment with the desperation of your tone. 

“Let me,” he soothed, his voice rasped with his intent focus. 

He moved the hilt and its decorative ridges rubbed along your swollen nerves. You squealed with the touch and then the intrusion, feeling his palm press to the inside of your thigh. “Trust me,” he whispered, his eyes boring between your thighs. You relaxed to his touch, feeling the curve of the handle pressing sweetly within you.

It sparked lights before your eyes and Aegon was pleased. He moved his thumb to replace where the gemstone rubbed enticingly before, matching the tandem of the hilt that now pulled you upwards to the prior peak and then past. It filled your chest, a bursting euphoria that pulsed your walls around the handle.

“Sȳz riña,” his voice low with his praise. Good girl.

Your head lifted, drowsy, and you saw him touch the glossy shine that now covered the hilt, his fingers showing the sticky web of your climax. His eyes met with yours as he showed you, and his eyebrows raised when you pushed to sit up, your hand gently covering his own to pull it towards your lips, licking the ruby and tasting yourself.  

It clattered to the cobblestone and his free hand now grabbed the nape of your neck, his lips finding yours with his returned desperation. Fingers collided to loosen his drawstrings, your hands pulling his cock free and guiding his blunt head to press against your silk entrance. 

His large hand wrapped around the base and you cant your hips, angling yourself so his cock can slowly sink into your wet warmth. You mewled from the delicious stretch and he shuddered once he was fully buried between your thighs. Aegon paused, stealing a kiss, a taste of tenderness on his lips as he began to rock against you. 

It started slow with a low groan spilling from his kiss swollen slips as he watched his cock disappear inside you again and again. He savored the lewd sounds, your soft cries as he pushed deeper within you, your fingers grasping to hold yourself upright, to remain as close to him as possible. 

Your body still simmered with your prior release and it did not take much to build again. His hips snapped against yours with the wet sound of skin to skin, and your walls began to flutter. It is a breathless chorus, your soft gasps and his low groan, your pleasure pulling with a creamy spill of passion that tightened around him, his cock pulsing hotly within you. 

You fell back to your elbows, trying to catch your breath, and Aegon slumped over, his damp brow pressing to yours, the mess of his golden waves falling across your face. His scent washed over you, exotic oils that were sent as gifts and the sheen of sweat on his skin. 

The council chambers are noiseless now, and you hold still under the dimming candles lit for the chandelier above. It is another clandestine moment stolen, where your hearts thrummed in unison before slowing back to their regular pace, pulling you back to the heavy reality that settled in the quiet.

It lingered in the shadows, the faraway thought, the threat beyond the horizon, the echoed worries returning of what will come next. 

Tumblr kindred spirits [taglist]: @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @girlwith-thepearlearring @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @multyfangirl @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowprincesa1 @officerbrowneyes @qyburnsghost @namelesslosers

[vivisviolets]

what do you need to hear right now ೀ⤷ except i have a headache

↪its been 3 fuking days i swear to goddddd 444

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˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖-pick an image that you feel drawn to- if nothing stands out quickly then close your eyes- breathe- and ask spirit/the universe/god or your intuition/higher self to show you what a pile's content would best suit you, don't be shy!! read through more than one if that's what you are called to do!! i love youuuuu-˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

⋆｡˚ *pile 1 ⚬

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⚬. Five of Swords (reversed), Nine of Swords (reversed), Six of Swords, Three of Wands, Judgement, Ace of Pentacles ⚬.

⚬. ☄️Number 5, 555, initials/letters H-M-A, sun ruled/dominant, Aries/Sag/Leo/Aquarius Placements, dark coloring or light coloring, face/body freckles, pale or sunkissed, thick hair, loud/blunt tone of talking, action-oriented ☄️⚬.

⚬. As I shuffled I picked up fire energy, I'm feeling you guys might come across a little intense personality-wise, like blunt or hardheaded in your opinions- you guys make other people feel like the shy or softer friend in comparison to you- I just got interrupted- I think you might have dealt with people in the past who stepped into your energy in an attempt to influence you or give you the impression they care but actually have the intentions to "change" you- I'm seeing someone smiling at you gently with this mask of innocence so you lower your guard down and give them control over you... This might have happened recently- and that's just it. They want to control by feeling that they are molding you into something they find more correct or tolerable. I don't mean to make you paranoid or even more un-trusting of others than you already are, but more to listen to and address inwardly why someone triggers you like that. I'm also hearing that in the past you might have felt you scared off some past friends or connections because they made some pretty lame excuses to avoid you- I'm just getting that you have a very masculine energy, very strong and coming straight from the chest. You guys have solid walls of inner self-concept and that can make people feel very small or meek compared to you, or trigger them to try and control or fix you, thinking you need some healing- when really it's them being triggered because of the self-healing they need to do on themselves... you guys might have mother issues (just finished watching Black Swan it's very much that suffocating toxicity coming from underdeveloped feminine energy) or have butted heads with female family members in your life (if not mothers especially aunts, maybe stepmother? Or grandmothers- female adults in your life)- and you guys are definitely not perfect in the way you handle certain things, regarding releasing control over certain situations peacefully. you guys can be impossibly stubborn, but that's because you stick to it with your whole chest, you just know- and so you bulldoze right ahead- I'm hearing a quote from Fiona Apple's '97 VMA speech, you "go with yourself". Other people's opinions be damned if you see something as your truth you follow it. From that, I'm hearing very Aquarius energy with how much you've mentally formed your own path (air energy with all the Sword cards), but again lots of fire energy I'm feeling. So you could have Aries placements with how youthfully blunt and truthful you naturally are- Sagittarius with how much natural luck and abundance you feel with opportunities being yours- but I'm getting very much lion energy, so Leo- "Lion-heart" "King of the Pride"- is really what your inner energy embodies! I heard some of you are more introverted or might not relate to this description fully because you may not think your external actions reflect that- but I NEED you to know what this is your inner emotional strength and land that you can, and should- tap into!! ☄️☄️☄️ because it's freaking natural babyyy ⚬.

⚬. You really need to chill with how un-trusting you are with other people's opinions. And I know that is so hard to hear because of the very valid reasons (◉ bitches) you've been dealt in life to have those trust issues- but I don't mean collapsing all your walls and becoming whatever anyone is saying, no. This is about you truly standing in all that inner power you have by allowing it to influence how to interact with others- there's knowledge to be gained everywhere, especially when you come from a place of such a strong self-concept. I'm really seeing you guys need to be allowing and being open to support- and I keep getting interrupted so I think you're really on guard with someone or the people you have around you. Again, look inwardly at that trigger and address it so you can take away what is valid in that trigger and also what is your own emotional walls- once you address it, you detach.~ and it's beautiful.~ but anyway, again-again I am also picking up that your suspensions are correct with whoever you feel is fake. So focus and be around people who you actually want to be around- I'm hearing a lot of you hang by yourself out of not finding anyone who interests you... Please do something different than what you normally do- you can find people who don't wish to change you or shrink next to you. You can and will find people who you can exchange knowledge and information with- with SUCH mutual respect like wow- you'll feel so fulfilled in a way you haven't even allowed yourself to think or consider-...might even be co-workers or just people you might have looked over (not trying to paint you as feeling above others or anything like that- you just have big high achiever energy). -Find and share with people who trigger you to become stronger, not weaker,- etc I'm really hearing that you guys being so in tune with your fire energy is really getting you to the places you want to be, it's really aligning yourself to those goals and your motives are really giving your actions a step up- but also you need to give energy to those ideas by sharing them- with the right, positive people (even neutral ppl would be rlly good) Because the support that you'll receive will not only be an energy boost to your goals, but also it will do some powerful work for you inwardly and align you to be more open to so many blessings and even more opportunities.-- I know you guys don't care hearing it because you don't need to, nor want to ask for it- but you are deserving as everyone is of hearing it- I love you ♡ and everything is turning out in your favor just by you continuing to follow your heart ❤️‍🔥. continue to open it up and remember to look and enjoy the next sunset you see!! ⚬.

⚬. "I am not afraid to finally say shit with my chest" - "I paid all my respect to those who taught me how to make it And now I reap the benefits with no confrontation" ⚬.

∘˙○˚‧.ೃ࿔ pile 2 ⚬

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⚬. The Hanged Man, Queen Of Swords, Strength, Three of Swords, Eight Of Wands, Six Of Pentancles ⚬.

⚬. 🐚 Number 3, 333, 3333, 1313, 303, 313, bubbles, Powerpuff Girls, girl/boy/kid next door, approachable/young/soft appearance, temu, Pisces/Cancer/Scorpio/Taurus/Leo placements, Neptune ruled/dominant 🐚 ⚬.

⚬. Bubbles!!!! I'm hearing bubbles- so you know, bubble baths/bubblegum/soap bubbles- oh, and of course you might have gone through a Powerpuff Girls phase and you chose Bubbles as the one most like you!! Obviously- right off the bat, you guys are adorable- you're seen as very adorable at least, you might have a very young face or you just give off very playful energy... So I'm mostly getting what other people see you as, so you definitely have a set image in people's minds-... I'm hearing though you might not like to hear that? A lot of this perception of you is largely online and in online groups, so you have curated a certain personality + an aesthetic for online and in said online groups (hearing for a lot of you it's Discord, but I'm also hearing Instagram group chats + Instagram engagement)... Maybe you've been regretting portraying that online persona? in those online spaces specifically- I will say this pac is all ages but I'm hearing that a lot of you might feel like you made some "bad choices" in how you portrayed yourself or who you interacted with that made you come across naive, and that can be a lot of things like- having weak emotional boundaries and being too emotionally open to people (like being the one who people trauma dumped to), getting wrapped up in some shady trading or in group business, or ignoring red flags of certain people in the effort to be the kind and sweet one of the group (you might of had a problem with a lot of creeps in your energy.. and dms ugh ew ◉ ◉ ◉)- I don't care what your age is, don't be hard on yourself!!! For this reading, you are literally my baby and I will not be harsh to you, idgaf if you came for harsh advice. I will only be saying things to guide you forward. because literally, I don't see you doing anything genuinely wrong. I think this situation you got in made you feel like you were some stupid baby duckling- it made you feel like your inner strength was weak and worthless- and you're putting a lot of self-blame on yourself- and that's just what that is, self-blame for how other people chose to engage with you.- I'll just tell you, you are so precious- no matter the reason you engaged in what you engaged in, you came in with pure intentions and creative eyes!! you felt like testing your waters regarding your own self-expression and wanted to give to others along with that ♡ and that's wonderful and ok to have wanted!! You guys are highly creative btw, and very interested in how you can express yourself- the first cards I drew were associated with water, so you may have prominent water placements of Pisces/Cancer/Scorpio- any of those are very you. You might have been deemed as the "cutesy artist" by others,- you might do something creative like drawing (I'm seeing some supaa cute digital art), cosplay or make up, maybe even music?- Very dreamy~ and also very giving of yourself emotionally- that's not a harmful thing my darling☆!! it's not "weak-minded" or deserving of being taken advantage of- nonono STOP THATTTT-... you really had something happen that threw you into a tailspin. You might be the overthinking type- you're taking everything to be a defining moment of your emotional intellect, or your very worth as a person... noo baby stop that- I literally need you to brew a cup of tea or a little treat, -I'm getting straight up teary-eyed with a lump in my throat rn- take a few deep breaths, drink a little cup of water, watch some youtube or anime- and just let yourself shed some tears if you want to.. freaking obviously feel however you want to feel because that's healthy to do but please stop placing all the blame on yourself like that's the full picture of what happened. ⚬.

⚬. ok so- you're gonna freaking reinvent yourself. Because I know you want to, but- 👏 you 👏 will 👏 not 👏 do 👏 it 👏 out 👏 of 👏 self👏 shame 👏.......👏 👏 👏 👏 👏 👏 - nah booboo, because there was nothing wrong with you to begin with, inwardly you are SO pure-hearted to yourself and those around you- AND THERE IS NOTHING that should be deemed wrong about that, holy shit. let me chill- this reading is peace and love🕊 only ofc... That's exactly it btw- you will be reinventing yourself out of peace and love- for yourself. out of peace and love for the version of yourself who felt vulnerable- taking what has made you feel vulnerable, and turning it into strength. And I'll just say, the actions that you'll be taking will be very much inward- and so you may see your "glow up"/transformation as too slow, but honey- that is exactly how what's needed in becoming SO secure in yourself. You might even go dark in a lot of your online spaces- if you haven't already which btw, process and remove any shame connected to having left certain spaces. how things fell apart was how it was meant to happen and has now gotten you to this point- which is amazing and awesome because you're gonna transform to be completely badass ★!!!! And I know you're thinking and worrying about how you won't be around to give to others to which i say- kiss your sensitive heart for being so precious~♡ because this is about you now. and everyone is going to feel that, no more placing your self worth on how happy you make others- its time for you to actually take enjoyment in yourself!!! and you are going to be looking so good- your inward growth is going to reflect your outward appearance, if you want to start switching up your style now's the time to go for it!!!!- but again, big focus on your inner self-love and growing your self-worth- and if you do choose to share your journey, make it in a smaller circle of people you can trust!! definitely send those new style pics to the inner circle if you feel free and fulfilled inwardly- you'll totally be praised like "omg (x) is really evolving they're looking sooo good..."- but anyway, just trust me ok ♡ because you're going to look back on all that you're feeling- all the hurt, confusion, negativity- and you're going to be stunned like- omg, if i hadn't felt and experienced and processed all of that, i wouldn't be feeling this good rn. So start that process!!!!! Get yourself a cute journal if you don't already have one with cute pens (record yourself to look back at later), start watching youtube videos on self-concept and emotional processing, saturate your mind with all that self-improvement- self-discovery- and building yourself up to be all the joy and love you bring to others (and hotter than evaaa😎), all for yourself ♡. I freaking love you~ now go get your sweet treat!!!!! (or two, that's totally ok~ just for today~) ⚬.

⚬. "And nothing hurts like you do- like the way you say I love you" - "See it on your face you won't ever change in your ways" - "When your torn apart you'll destroy me again"

⚬. *tw: themed song is dark for this pile like wuttt, but it just kept replaying in my mind during the reading so maybe it'd be your thing? idk lollll ⚬.

｡⭒⭒˚ʚɞ˚｡˚pile 3 ⚬

⚬

⚬. King of Pentacles, The Tower (reversed), Two of Pentacles, Queen Of Wands (reversed), Knight Of Swords, Seven Of Swords ⚬.

⚬.🕷 Student life, number 1-12-6, 1111, 1212, 666, lawyer or law practice type degree, thin or medium length hair, natural eye bags/under eye veins, INTP/INFJ, monochromatic clothes, cotton loungewear, Sagittarius/Virgo/Taurus/Capricorn/Libra placements, mars ruled/dominant 🕷⚬.

⚬. Okkk pile 3s, I must talk about your appearance and aura because... Wow!! I am enchanted- I see you are very statue-esque, so you may be on the tall side, especially for my women/afabs it's a very noticeable trait about you, of course you can be a normal height but there is just something about the way you are built that is very statue-like. And that appearance really shows who you are inside and your inner energy because you are soooo calming, mature, and also very spiritual in your self-concept- like if you were my friend and I had you in my inner circle I would trust you with so much, like you're held high in your own inner circle/peers. Maybe you don't feel that way because while you guys are very much givers of your time and nurturing nature- you know to put yourself first on your list of priorities, and that, not only is what makes you so good at your time management (like how do you it??? Please teach meee), it also gives you this air of independence- very natural independence too like, you're again a nurturing and giving being but you treat yourself with that same energy. I'm seeing a large tree in the middle of a expansive and dense forest, and all that magnificent health flowing through that forest is thanks to that tree right in the middle self-regulating and thus creating all that health that all of the life around it can benefit from… So yea self-care is a big thing for youuuu~ I'm seeing the routines you have are very simple so they just blend in so effortlessly into your daily life, and it is literally what is making you into that magnificent tree full of self-regulating energy. Again really simple, minimalist style of self-care- I see morning walks/jogging and journaling to clear and refresh your mind space, you may like to read, and prefer audiobooks or mindfulness-centered podcasts over other forms of media to help you relax and refocus, I'm seeing you like to not be strict with your diet but instead add to it things like fruits-veggies- and more purely sourced foods- your skin care is very simple with few-if any- products and your consistent with it as you are with everything else in your life. Even if you feel like you're "failing", you aren't. and deep down you know that you aren't- you've grown so much and that's really tapped you into not just self-responsibility/regulation but also to give yourself the grace to breathe. That's so beautiful!!!!!! ugh. And like- all of this natural self-focus you have, it's so spiritual- it's not grounded in your ego. You're just so in touch with your highest self. And lovely, they/she/he is so proud of you. I have to say again, if you were my friend, you would definitely be the person I'd go to- to take care of my puppy for 2 weeks in complete peace, and someone I'd have a drink with on a Saturday night all made up and done up talking about the deepest of topics. ⚬.

⚬. Very interesting personality and image I was getting and building up compared to the cards I pulled- I'm getting you might not have always been this balanced in your personal life and emotions, in fact you might have been very much the opposite… Because you grew up in an environment very unlike the one you are currently building for yourself- you may have had a toxic and vicious mother or other feminine figures that really put the fear of God in you and also made you fear yourself with the thought of one-day exuding and feeling such damaged feminine energy…. You might have also had a lot of friend drama- for those older reading this, this happened in your youth (middle-high school) and to those still in mentioned youth, you're freshly out of it (-good for you ily), said dramatic struggles was a reflection really of all the chaos of your home environment and all of the pent up intensity of it… I'm just hearing so many arguments and you feeling like you're being set on fire over and over again... So I'm getting with how much of a shift you made, you feel this coldness in your heart space- partly due to how fiery and emotional your past way of existing was, and also because while this shift that you made for yourself is excellent considering where you came from, it also happened very suddenly- and while you have implemented many new healthy habits… I'm seeing your past wounds still remain open. You can't bring in the new without clearing out the old... while you've done the work of shifting from the old habits to new- that's only half of the battlefield within you that has been fought and conquered, and now you need to face the other half instead of journeying away from it. Because even with all the peace you've found and created for yourself, what you have not faced, felt, and processed for the final round still remains… Maybe you fear your peace and balance being threatened by opening up your hurt, and that's totally understandable and valid. But if you wish to build a peaceful future, you must make peace with the past version of yourself. They/she/he who's still wrapped up in the chaos around them, mimicking that chaos back out of fear, feeling completely alone-that version of yourself needs your attention and healing more then ever. And I know you like to journal or record your thoughts, so allow those darker feelings and wounds into the space- keep the learned peace you have found and treat yourself with that gentleness past you wished they had been given-address them and ask them what memories stick with them most vividly and ask how it made them feel-how it made you feel at the time. Ask yourself what traits you feared most about the people who hurt you and analyze them- the emotions behind them and their cause and effect- and look within how you may be playing out those same traits stemming from the trauma of experiencing them.. I know I'm getting really heavy now, but that's just it- as you are growing upwards and becoming lighter, what no longer serves you grows heavier- and it needs your addressing, so you can become all that you want to be and exist as. You've already shown yourself that you are capable of finding and attracting peace, so now it's time to give yourself the peace of healing. Be the bigger girl/guy/person to yourself, allow yourself to feel it and address it in this safe space you've created. OK BESTIEEE I'm wishing you so much love and joy in your inner discovery journey- I loooove youuu ⚬.

⚬. "There's a fine line I've been walking" -This is where you fuckers pushed me, don't be surprised if shit gets ugly" - "-there's a fine line between broken and breaking- spent my whole trying to change what they say about me- sick of walking that fine line" - "I feel safest in the silence" - "-my whole life I've had something to prove, to you" ⚬.

⚬. *Bonus song*: Too Far Gone by Kesha ⚬.

⚬. oh my- okkk you got to the bottom- hiiiiii- byeeeee 👋

love, vi~♡

[sheerfreesia007]

Stray Kids Masterlist

Bang Chan

Interview with Officer Bahng

Sunkissed

Perfect Fit

Login Confessions

You’re Losing Me (Angst)

Adrenaline High

Check Under My Hood

Always Come For You (Requested)

Love at Lunch Time

Airborne

His Little Star (Angst)

New Year New Me

His Clumsy Klutz

Lucky Number 13

Lee Know

Drunken Teasings

Mouth to Mouth

Unsure Attraction

Recipe of a Confession

Dandelions

The Great Cat-Napper

Red Light, Green Light

Parade Shenanigans

Love Postage

Entwined With You

Interrupting Festivities

Nearly Missed

Polar Opposites

New Cat Mama

Changbin

Traffic Control

Pool Games

Guarding Your Heart

Confession to Quench Your Thirst

Brave Girl (Angst)

Wrong Number

Silent Protector

Love Stuck on You

Do You Want To Build A Snowman?

Created Happiness (Angst)

Courage at Midnight

Taking Care of Him

Your Advocate

Rooftop Conversations

Hyunjin

Photographic Evidence

Underwater Love

Scent of Attraction

Masterpiece of a Confession

Play Pretend

The Chase

Little Bit of Time

Love Letters

Catching Snowflakes On Our Tongues

No Longer Playing Pretend

New Year’s Resolution

All In The Details

Love Guru

Off Key

Han Jisung

Connections

Moves to Quick

Launch Party

Tickled Confessions

Eyes On Me

Sway

Nitro Boost

Love Behind the Lyrics

Baby It’s Cold Outside

Inyeon

Plan Crasher

His Reassurance

Monsters Under The Bed

Lee Felix

Status Report

Just a Glimpse

Data Breach

Gameplay Confessions

Greedy (Angst)

Card Up His Sleeve

Checkered Flag

Love Creases

Angels In The Snow

Twilight Zone (Angst)

New Beginnings in the New Year

Worry Wart

Too Early For This

Seungmin

Monthly Exam

Protective

Gathering Courage

Confessions Under Fluorescents

Spoil Me

Took A Louisville Slugger

Last Proposal

Little Book of Love

All’s Fair

Spoiled Rotten

New Year Conditions

Sweet Serenade

Backseat Driver

Coffee Snobs

Jeongin

Undercover Mission

Paired Up

Tease Me

Boardgame Confessions

Song Bird (Angst)

Highest Bid

Take Another Lap

Let Me Count The Ways

Icing You Out

False Hope (Angst)

Wishing You Good Fortune

Always In The Nick of Time

Dyed Colors

[mazikeenhyde]

Oh Baby, Pain is Pleasure - Part 3

POLY JUDGMENT DAY X READER (WRESTLER) 

Y/W/N – Your Wrestling Name 

Y/W/N/F – Your Wrestling Name Finisher

WARNING – THESE WARNINGS COVER ALL PARTS OF THIS FICTION- THEY MAY NOT BE SPECIFIC TO THIS PARTICULAR PART!- 

SMUT,  GIRL X GIRL, MAN X MAN, POLY RELATIONSHIPS/SEXUAL, BDSM, BLOOD, SPANKING, VIOLENT REFRENCES, INJURY, ABUSE (CONSENTUAL) CHEATING, STALKERS/ STALKING

I’m going to apologize to you all now, and prewarn you in advance, this is an absolute rollercoaster of a storyline! Shits about to get REAL messy! 

TAG LIST - @babybatlover

Oh Baby…Pain is Pleasure – Part 3

Late afternoon had seen the sun burn the remainder of the clouds from the sky, leaving a beautiful blue horizon view from across the backyard. Flocks of birds gathered as they headed over the break line, waving in and out of the smoke coming from our BBQ pit. 

I sat, gently rocking my feet back and forth on the chair egg swing we had attached to one of the older grand oak trees in our yard. It was all I had wanted when we moved in, somewhere calm and content where I could just exist. Enjoy my time, enjoy my life, and admire the world around me. Ponder life’s big questions… 

‘LOCKER WITNESSES’ 

I re read that message repeatedly in my mind, who was it from? witnessed what? 

I had deleted the other text from my phone, I wasn’t going down that road. 

The sounds of two men’s deep voices bought me back, looking over to my lovers I could see Finn & Damien adorned in their matching ‘TOP CHEF’ aprons and cooking utensils with a beer in hand, either chatting away or debating about how best to cook the chicken. 

Whilst further down on the sun loungers, Rhea had stripped down to one of her thin black bikinis with the metal skull clip fastenings, she was catching the last of the sunrays to her already perfect Sunkissed skin.  Christ, how did I get so lucky as to be a part of this incredible love…. Pentagon? It’s a five-way love triangle, let’s leave it at that.

When we had been initially searching for a house to buy, one to really call home that is; we had all had something in mind we desperately wanted as a feature. We knew it needed to be a big house, one with a master bedroom where we could assemble out two King size beds that had been custom made to attach in the middle, I cannot begin to tell you how comfortable and comforting it is being held close and safe by the four people you love more than anything in the world. 

The guilt though…

Still, obviously Rhea & Finn were dead set on having a large garage/ open internal space to set up the home gym. Of course, whilst on the road we still used a lot of public gyms and one-off hotel workout rooms here and there, but when we are at home, in each other’s company, away from the world, the fans, all that attention. It is so lovely knowing we don’t have to leave our little safe haven.

Damian had specifically made it clear he wanted a huge kitchen, open planned that backed into a dinning area. When we moved in, he had taken the time to build up a barista style coffee corner and a breakfast station on the central island. Then with Finn’s help, they worked on a D.I.Y project together to design and create a full bar set up next to the table and chairs where we ate. They had eventually given in and allowed Dom to help with the painting of the bar, because he wanted to be a ‘DIY Man’ too. 

The boys always referred to it as the lad’s corner, a custom-built wooden bar that was painted a deep tranquil green and black with illuminated LED letters on the wall; ‘ALL RISE, ALL DRINK’.   That however did not stop Rhea and I from emptying some of those back bar bottles on one of many messy nights! For some reason, whenever Rhea breaks out the Tequila, we always end up playing strip twister… Odd. 

Dominick, of course… wanted a gaming room. Not just any gaming room mind you, a ‘Mens” gaming room. 

*Sigh* 

Problem is he is just so adorable at times, and we all give in, he had been granted his request of course! Although Priest put his foot down when Dom had asked for an indoor arcade style basketball hoop game, he was allowed a hoop outside but that was it. We had all seen enough broken windows during the season when Finn had tried to teach Damien and Dominick how to play golf. 

It still makes me laugh when the boys talk about how they would feel guilty that they were off spending time together, while Rhea and I would miss out? Ha. Little did they know when they buggered off to do ‘man’s stuff’ we girls would high tail it upstairs to the family bathroom and strip off into the bathtub for some… girl’s time. *Wink Wink* 

I remember one morning; Rhea and I were standing in the arched doorway at the crack of dawn waving the boys off as they set out on an early start to play a full days Golf. Leaning into her chest I rubbed the sleepiness from my eyes as she bent her head down and nuzzled her lips into the crook of my neck. 

“I tell you now Y/N, I would rather run the risk of drowning when we get in that bathtub, and I bury my face deep in your pussy… then stand in a damp field hitting a stick at a ball.” Her teeth nipped at the skin of my ear lobe and my entire body melted at her touch. 

Christ the things that woman does to me. 

A loud crash had bought me back to reality, Dom had been trying to carry a tray of drinks out to the garden for us all but had tripped over some excess weigh plates we had left outside, sending the poor lad flying arse over tit. 

“Shit! God damn it, ow fuck!” Dom pulled himself up to his knees, swiping the drinks tray away in frustration before noticing blood trickling down his arm from the glasses that he had smashed across the decking. He was quick to freeze, unable to process what to do next or how to stand up safely. 

Rhea was quick to make her way over to him from the sun lounger, followed by Damian who handed Finn his spatula and beer before rushing over to help the poor lad. 

I know, I know I should have been focused on the fact that the boy I loved so much needed some help, some TLC, compassion, and support… 

But I am only human. 

And Rhea Bloody Ripley…. 

Running….

In a mini black laced bikini…

Slightly wet from the heat of the sun touching her skin, God how she glistened. How she got my motor running and…

Finn had noticed my distraction and whistled loudly, gathering my attention. 

“Aye! Lass, enough of that! Go... Take a lap!” He gestured, pointing to the end of the field in our garden. The yard stretched about 1/4 of a mile down and was cut off by the woodland. One of my favorite things about this house was the nature that came with it. It all felt so…natural and back down to earth compared to the chaos and mayhem at WWE. 

Pointing his BBQ tongs and Damian’s spatula at me, Finn raised his eyebrow. 

“No distractions, ya hear!” 

I tried not to laugh at his remark, turning my face away to hide my snicker and rolling my eyes. I was still wearing my gym gear from before; except I had nabbed one of Dominick’s merch shirts on the way to the garden from the drying rack, I was self-conscious about my stomach, and I liked to hide my body where I could. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?!” Finn sternly questioned me as he put the utensils down. 

At this point Rhea was taking Dom inside through the double doors, whilst Damian stood back up and turned in my direction. 

Fuck… they are hot when they get all dominant. 

“Mi Vida, did you roll your eyes?” Damian’s words were colder, flat, and prominent. I could tell he was almost looking for a reason to get me upstairs into the bedroom. Christ I was half tempted to give him a solid reason. 

Put me across your lap Papa Priest, let me feel the strength between your thighs and lay it into me Goddamn it! 

The devil on my shoulder sang its heart out at the idea, but I remembered earlier when Finn has spun the actions back against me. Leaving me alone and sexually frustrated I thought better of the situation. 

“Me? I would never…” I said quite obnoxious/sarcastically and smiled that cheeky brat look at them before hopping up off the tree swing. I could see Damian trying not to break or give in… but a slight smirk crept into the corner of his lips.  

“I’m going to take a lap!” I stated and grinned before making a run for it, heading down and out of sight from the lads. I had a much better plan in mind to deal with my frustrations when I got in the shower later anyway. 

I was out of breath by the time I got back towards our street, less than a ¼ mile to go! I had decided to go for a proper run to clear my mind. A good few miles should do the trick, that’s what Rhea always said! With my headphones in and a decent playlist on, nothing was going to stop me! 

One foot after another I pressed on, sweat dripping down my neck I desperately tried to Shake off all that nervous energy I had built up now that WrestleMania was less than 2 weeks away. I had been on edge at times, and it showed when I trained in the ring with Rhea and Dom. Running back-to-back moves, counters, pins, and submissions, it was like every time I thought I had learnt it someone would come along and wipe my slate clean, and I knew nothing again. 

Maybe I wasn’t ready to be a champion? 

Maybe I was out of my depth? 

Rhea should be in this match not me. 

Me? Y/W/N? Was I really cut out to be a champion? 

I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket as I continued running. I tried looking at my smart watch as I ran, though it was tricky to focus on a smaller screen. 

I could see a couple messages from Finn stating the food was ready, one from Damian also telling me the food was ready, one from Dom telling me he was going to eat my hot dog if I didn’t hurry up and one from Rhea telling me she wasn’t going to let Dom touch my food. 

Honestly this lot, I love them so much. 

Turning into our street I could see our house gate entrance just up the hill, with a little spring in my step I pushed on feeling like I was picking up speed. I felt energized, I felt incredible, maybe I could do this after all! 

With the gate just in reach and the sweet smokey smell of the BBQ lingering in the air I put my head down to push those least few feet… 

But within a split second I felt something behind me. 

The music cut out as my headphones were launched to the floor and my arms locked in tight by a strength I hadn’t ever had to match. Kicking my legs out I felt them rise off the floor and before I could even fathom the mental capacity to make a sound the feeling of sticky back plastic tape suckered its way in across my lips. My eyes pooled up as the bag went over my head and my vision became darkness. A hard and cold metal floor was met with my body weight as I was hurled inside, my heart beating out of my chest the fear became all too real as I felt the ground under move away at speed. 

A hot breath came down my neck, raising every last hair on my skin to react. The voice was muffled, as if speaking through a mask. 

“You did this Y/N…” 

“You did this… and now you cannot handle the monster you created.” 

The silence in between each word was deafening, but it was the next voice that bought the fear of God into my soul. 

“ Told you I’d find you...miss me?” 

TO BE CONTINUED

[candysims4]

CC DROP | OCT 2023

BUY MODE EDITION

After taking a long break from posting Buy Mode cc, I put together a few random projects in my WIP folder and finished them. The result is this cc drop for October, which includes 13 clutter decor pieces.

THE DESCRIPTION OF EACH ITEM PLUS THE CREATOR’S NOTES BELOW THE CUT.

ALL ITEMS ARE:

BASE GAME COMPATIBLE

NON-DEFAULT

THUMBNAILS (HOSTED IN IMGUR)

MY SITE (NO AD.FLY): THE TRIO PAINTINGS (TWO VERSIONS) | CARINHA PLANT POT AND BOOKS | EQUILÍBRIO BOOKS (TWO VERSIONS) | OLD TIMES TRAY WITH LETTERS | ARGILA PLANTS | COMPANHIA BOXES (TWO VERSIONS) | UNEXPECTED UMBRELLA KEEPER | SUNKISSED SUNGLASSES Free release on 11th November 2023

PATREON EARLY ACCESS + MERGED OPTIONS

TERMS OF USE | SEND YOUR FEEDBACK | REPORT AN ISSUE

Thanks to all the cc creators that I used in the pic. And thanks to @maxismatchccworld, @simblrcollective, @s4library​, @wewantmods​, and everybody who reblog this post!

If you’re a cc finds and want to be tagged when I post, please, let me know. You can send me an ask or in DM.

With your help, more people can know about my work! 💖 Love you all, XOXO 💖

DESCRIPTION OF EACH ITEM:

THE TRIO PAINTINGS (TWO VERSIONS) You can search "The Trio Paintings" OR/AND “CandySims4″

WALL VERSION

38 swatches

138 polygons

§ 200

You will find in DECORATIONS/WALL

FLOOR VERSION

38 swatches

132 polygons

§ 200

You will find in DECORATIONS/CLUTTER

CARINHA PLANT POT AND BOOKS

32 swatches

978 polygons

§ 150

You will find in DECORATIONS/CLUTTER OR/AND PLANT

You can search by "Carinha Plant Pot and Books" or/and “CandySims4″

EQUILÍBRIO BOOKS (TWO VERSIONS)

14 swatches

578 polygons

§ 40

You will find in DECORATIONS/CLUTTER OR/AND STORAGE/BOOKSHELF

You can search by "Equilibrio Books" or/and “CandySims4″

OLD TIMES TRAY WITH LETTERS

35 swatches

70 polygons

§ 15

You will find in DECORATIONS/CLUTTER

You can search by "Old Times Tray with Letters" or/and “CandySims4″

ARGILA PLANTS You can search by "Argila Leafy Plant/Cactus/Succulent" or/and “CandySims4″

LEAFY PLANT

20 swatches

494 polygons

§ 38

You will find in DECORATIONS/PLANTS

CACTUS

20 swatches

262 polygons

§ 24

You will find in DECORATIONS/PLANTS

​SUCCULENT

20 swatches

298 polygons

§ 24

You will find in DECORATIONS/PLANTS

COMPANHIA BOXES (TWO VERSIONS)

38 swatches

92 polygons

§ 25

You will find in DECORATIONS/CLUTTER

You can search by "Companhia Boxes" or/and “CandySims4″

UNEXPECTED UMBRELLA KEEPER

40 swatches

796 polygons

§ 120

You will find in DECORATIONS/MISC

You can search by "Unexpected Umbrella Keeper" or/and “CandySims4″

Functional as an "umbrella rack"

SUNKISSED SUNGLASSES

38 swatches

992 polygons

§ 12

You will find in DECORATIONS/CLUTTER

You can search by "SunkissedSunglasses" or/and “CandySims4″

CREATOR’S NOTES:

I'll try to keep this creator's notes as short as possible, so let's right up start talking about the items individually, beginning with "The Trio Paintings." These paintings are absolutely stunning - they come in a variety of swatches, patterns, and landscapes (all Sims-themed, of course). You have two options to choose from: one that's wall-mounted and another that leans against the wall on the floor. Both options come with the exact same swatches.   

"Companhia Boxes" also come in two versions - one where they're side by side and one where they're stacked on top of each other. All of the swatches are color combinations, and few have patterns. They're different between the versions as they're made to complement one to the other. 

Name translation (from PT-BR): "Companhia" can mean a few things, but in this case, it is being used in the meaning of "companionship." Which totally makes sense to me because these boxes are always together.

"Old Times Tray with Letters" is a very random idea I had. I enjoy the aesthetic of letters, and I thought it would be cute to use as decor in a compartment, as a small place to leave the received mail when coming home.  My focus on it was the letters; I tried my best to make it very game-friendly with even tiny weenie stamps. 

"Sunkissed Sunglasses" are a simple yet stylish design, a wayfarer sunglasses folded. This versatile decor can go from adding a beachy vibe to your pool area to sprucing up your closet with some fun flair.

"Equilibrio Books" is another item that comes in two versions. The first version has all the books leaning towards each other and standing upright, while the second version is part stacked and part leaning in with the other books. Both versions have the same swatches with color/print variations.  I'm a big fan of these books' prints- they're so beautiful and game-friendly! It took me a while to make the diffuse for them because some of the base images were so tiny that I had to redraw them, but it was worth it in the end. Plus, they're functional as bookshelves.

Name translation (from PT-BR): "Equilíbrio" means "balance" in English.

The "Unexpected Umbrella Keeper" was a must-have for my game, and I hope it will be for yours too. Since there's only one in the game, I thought having something different would be awesome.  My idea for it was to be a decorative jar that was repurposed as an umbrella rack (from this concept came the name).  Not only is it a cool decoration, but it's also functional! You can click on it to grab an umbrella for your Sim, which makes it perfect for the hallway. 

"Argila Plants" has three plant varieties. A leafy plant, a cactus, and a succulent, all snugly placed in plant pots made of clay (or "argila" in Portuguese-BR). The leafy plant is comparatively bigger than the others, so it comes in a bigger pot. They all come in the same color swatches, so you can mix and match them however you like.

Last but would never be least, my favorite piece of this cc drop is the "Carinha Plant Pot and Books." I stumbled upon some images of similar plant pots on Pinterest and was so inspired that I knew I had to create one of my own! But, I wasn't feeling too confident in my skills, so I decided to design one that was more my speed and also low poly. And let me tell you, the end result is beautiful and adorable! I just love the little smile on its face. It's the cutest thing ever!

Name translation (from PT-BR): The term "carinha" is the diminutive of "cara"; it's a slang term that indicates or calls a person informally.  According to Google Translate in English, it's translated to "dude." 

I created these items at different times, so they all have their own unique designs and uses. Although I was never inspired to put them together in sets, I thought putting them in a cc drop would be better than posting them separately. I hope you don't find it too messy and can find something you like here. 

Even though they have different designs, I think they can all be used together without any problem. Personally, I'm really proud of how they turned out and all the hard work that went into them. I love every detail of them, and I'm especially happy that they're mainly low poly but still look nice.

Anyway, that's all I wanted to share for now. Thanks so much for reading my notes! I hope you have a fantastic day/night. XOXO

[stardewhhore]

harvey headcannons - first meeting

he's heard there's a new farmer in town but isn't too worried about it - he stays in his clinic most of the day, anyways.

then a new name appears on his appointment list

he's a little nervous now, he's never loved meeting new people, but he has to remain professional

the minute he walks into the exam room, he is completely enamored

well, shit. ever since the appointment he's been thinking about the farmer nonstop

it doesn't help that they keep visiting and bringing him coffee...

Even maru's starting to notice. she doesn't wait for the farmer to ask for harvey; she goes to the back to fetch him when she sees the farmer walk through the door

he does his best to 'play it cool' when the farmer comes in. as if this isn't the highlight of his day. as if his heart isn't beating faster than usual. as if he doesn't try to take a mental image of this day after day, hoping to always remember it

he tries to take in all of the farmer's beauty; their bright smile, happy eyes, sunkissed cheeks with freckles from being out in the sun

speaking of sun, "make sure you're always wearing sunscreen!"

The farmer laughs.

harvey has never heard such a beautiful and intoxicating laugh before

when they leave, he slumps in his chair, hands shaking while holding the coffee

honestly? the coffee isn't even that good, but since it is from the farmer, it's the best he's ever had

one day, harvey had to close the clinic to run an errand in Zuzu city. He knew he would miss the farmer, so he reluctantly closed up the building

that evening, when he returned home, he noticed a letter shoved forcefully under the door addressed to him with a heart. he rushed inside, threw down his bag, and haphazardly opened the envelope

it was, of course, from the farmer. it was an invitation to get dinner from the saloon at 6:00pm that night.

Harvey looked at the clock. 5:55pm.

[lambicpentametre]

kiss me hard before you go

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62194219

T | 1/1 | 2.2k

The only thing that Ice wants is to sleep off his fourteen hour transport before he sees Maverick on Saturday. But Maverick needs him now, and he never could turn her away. or: Pete is uncertain what the future holds, so Ice kisses her about it.

A/N: “You are capable of writing a prompt fill that is 700 words or less,” I told myself, like a lying liar who lies. “Surely this will not be more than 900 words, and it definitely will not exceed 1300. You’re just making them kiss!” lol. lmao, even.

Title from “Summertime Sadness” by Lana Del Rey.

Iceman’s barely been home for three hours when Maverick turns up on the doorstep of his base housing, shivering in the evening air.

She bangs on the door like she’s trying to wake the dead—which he may as well be, after the fourteen straight hours of transport it had taken to get him back Stateside.

He’d told her he was coming back, but he’d thought he would see her for breakfast on Saturday, like they’d planned. Life is already hard enough in the Naval Air Force for the cocksure daughter of Duke Mitchell, and Ice has no desire to make things worse by allowing gossip to spread about this new relationship between them.

Maverick had agreed with him, had kept to writing him a letter twice a month to not draw any attention as to why Lieutenant Commander Mitchell, recently of Miramar, was regularly corresponding with Lieutenant Kazansky, somewhere out in the Pacific Ocean. She had agreed to seeing him only after things had settled down: breakfast on Saturday like two classmates catching up.

It had been too easy; she had been too reasonable. It hadn’t been like Maverick at all.

It’s not a surprise that she couldn’t hold out and ended up outside of his shitty little one bedroom, in only her customary white t-shirt and a worn pair of denim jeans. Her father’s jacket is nowhere to be seen, and her bike is on the street.

What the hell is she doing, riding in the evening without a jacket?

“Maverick?” he asks, unsure and a little annoyed for having been woken up from his nap.

It all evaporates when Maverick looks up at him, her hair wild from whipping in the wind on her bike, her teeth chattering, her eyes puffy.

“Hey, Kazansky,” she greets, but her voice is shot and stuffy. Something has made Maverick cry and made her desperate enough to seek him out.

Ice moves before he registers it, hauling her into a hug and shutting the door behind them. The moment he’s got her face tucked in the crook of his neck, Maverick winds her arms around him tighter than is comfortable, and she cries thick and gasping sobs that wrack through her whole body.

He puts a hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair, and gently maneuvers them to the couch so they can sit. As soon as he’s down, Maverick is climbing into his lap, like she’s trying to burrow inside of him to hide.

She hasn’t let go of him for a second since he opened his door.

He doesn’t know what else to do; he doesn’t know what could possibly have made Maverick this upset. And without knowing that, there isn’t much that Ice can do to help her. Then again, it might not be help she’s looking for, if the way she’s clinging to him is any indication to what she’s actually after. He leans back into the cushions, careful to keep Maverick steady as he goes, and holds her as close as he can.

It takes longer than he’d like for her to settle. She’s still hiccuping little cries, but she doesn’t have any tears left. Her fingers are twisted in collar of his shirt while her thumb absentmindedly runs over his collarbone. Once he’s sure her breathing has evened out enough, he presses a soft kiss to her temple, taking in the sunkissed-jet fuel-danger-leather-want smell that follows Maverick wherever she goes.

“Hey,” he whispers, resting his forehead against hers. He doesn’t want to break the quiet calm that’s fallen between them. “Are you okay?”

She whimpers, and then she’s tightening her arms and taking in a stuttering breath, and it’s all Ice can do to keep her from falling off of his lap and onto the floor. He grabs her by the waist and adjusts their positions: one of his arms around her back, the other twined around her front, hands clasped together so she can’t move away again, so she’s nestled into his side, her legs thrown over his lap, her head on his shoulder, her arms around his neck.

He tucks her head under his chin and rubs his thumb in a circle, just below one of her ribs.

“Maverick, I’m here. You’re okay. I’m not gonna let you go.”

“Ice,” she croaks. He pulls away enough to look at her, and the sight of her nearly breaks him. She looks worse than she did after Goose died, like the life and spark and everything that made her Maverick has been carved out of her with a rusty blade.

He pulls the arm around her front free and brushes away the tear tracks that run across her cheeks. He kisses her forehead, her brow, then both of her eyes, slow and steady like the Iceman always is, until she finally levels out and they’re breathing together.

Maverick reaches under his collar and pulls his dog tags out, her fingers tracing over the pressed letters that spell Thomas C Kazansky. The tension starts to bleed out of her until she’s all but melted against him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks softly.

She squeezes her eyes shut. “No. I don’t want to talk about it ever again.”

“Okay.”

Maverick threads the chain of his dog tags through her fingers and tugs. He knows her well enough to not look at her; it’s always been easier for Maverick to say the hard things when she doesn’t have to meet his eyes and see whatever it is she’s scared she might find there.

“Carole called me this morning. Told me she’ll be dead by Christmas.”

Shit.

“She’s writing up her will. Fuck, she’s barely older than my dad was when—”

Maverick chokes on the end of her sentence, but he hears it anyway. She’s barely older than my dad was when he was shot down, when he died, when he left me alone.

“Ice, she wants—she said—” Maverick inhales deeply, sets her chin, and starts again.

“She’s leaving me custody of Bradley when she’s gone.”

Fuck.

“Mav—”

“I don’t want to do this, Ice,” she cuts him off. “I never wanted this.”

And this thing between them is so new, so untested… Ice doesn’t know what she means. They had never talked about this before he’d left on his deployment. Kids had always been something Ice left to figure out in the future, a decision he could make later as he climbed the ladder to the top of the Navy. It’s a choice he’s been happy to kick down the lane. Flying is, was, and has been more important to him than talking about some faceless children that he hadn’t even decided he was having, and Maverick had been the same.

Or, he’d thought she was. He has no idea if Maverick wants kids at all. He’d never asked Maverick if she wanted children some day.

“Mav, you love Bradley with all your heart, I know you do—”

“It’s not a question of if I love him enough!” she snaps, but the fight burns out of her as quickly as it came, and she’s back to grasping at him like he’s the only thing shielding her from certain death. She tucks her face into the crook of his neck again, and he feels the little puffs of breath against his skin more than he hears her whispers.

“I don’t know how to be his mom. My mom died when I was so little, and I never had a mom, I’m gonna fuck it up, I don’t wanna fuck him up, I can’t do that to him too—”

She’s spiraling again, and Ice knows she’ll be in pieces in the morning if he can’t get her out of the spin now.

“Maverick, Maverick! Look at me.” He tilts her face up, his hand under her chin, until their eyes meet. He can see the abject terror and guilt in her eyes.

“You would never hurt Bradley. You’d never let yourself, and I wouldn’t let you either,” he tells her.

“You can’t know that,” she gasps, wrapping her fingers around his wrist and gripping hard enough that he’ll have bruises in the shape of her hand in the morning.

“Yes, I can.”

Maverick opens her mouth to argue with him, but he presses his thumb into her lips to silence her. He feels her breath hitch in her chest. He lets his eyes flick down to her mouth, then meets her gaze again. Her eyes are clearing, and Ice knows that Maverick is coming back to him, and following his gut here is the right thing to do.

Slowly, so slowly that he can hear Slider calling him a glacier in his head, slowly so that Maverick can read the path he’s taking, so that she can stop him if she wants to, he closes the space between them until their lips are almost touching.

“Ice,” she whispers, his name falling from her lips onto his.

Before she finishes, he pulls her the last bit into him and kisses her. She sighs, then she surges to meet him, her hands flying up from the nape of his neck to thread her fingers into his hair.

Kissing Maverick is like going Mach 2 on a clear day over the Pacific. It’s passion in his heart and fire in his touch. It’s the familiar back and forth of arguing with Maverick because she wants to wind him up, then catching her sly smile when he’s crowding her into a wall, just like she wanted. It’s every dream and wish he had for ten months at sea. It’s better than he could imagine, sweeter than he’d hoped.

Maverick pulls away first, though he chases her to steal one more kiss before he lets her go. They’ve ended up sprawled across his couch: Maverick caged underneath him, their legs tangled together, her hands caught in his hair.

He looks down at Maverick, the spitfire pain-in-the-ass that he’s realizing he cannot live without, and sees the uncertainty that forces a little line to scrunch in her forehead. Ice shifts his weight to one elbow and uses his free hand to massage the worry away.

“I need you to be sure,” she admits quietly. She puts a hand over his heart. “I know you care about me, and I know you understand that Bradley is a part of my life, but Ice—”

The words catch in her throat. She swallows thickly and looks up at him, bare and exposed, like she’s taking the words out of a hole in her heart.

“If you’re going to leave, I need you to do it now. I can’t, I won’t survive it if you leave me after. I’m going to be responsible for a kid who’s not old enough to shave by the new year, and that’s... It’s not what you signed up for. I understand if that’s not how you saw this going between us, and I won’t be mad at you if you want to leave. But if you don’t— If you can’t— If you think that’s not for you, I need you to go now.”

Maverick bites her lip. It takes a considerable amount of effort to keep himself from kissing her until she stops.

“I’m not going anywhere, Maverick,” he says. “I told you I was your wingman, and I meant it. Even if—” Even if you decide you don’t want me like I want you, if you don’t love me the way I think I love you—

“If things doesn’t work out between us,” he settles on, “I would still be there for you. And being there for you means being there for Bradley. I knew that when we started. I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean. I promised you twice that I would be at your side if you needed me, and I want to be here.”

“I’m not gonna let you take that back, Kazansky,” she warns him. The words may be intended to pick a fight, but her tone is more wary than combative.

Ice opens his mouth to argue with her, because didn’t he just say he wouldn’t take it back, but he decides it’s much easier to show Maverick than to tell her.

Maverick responds best to action, not to words. He can say everything he needs to tell Maverick in a kiss, and she’ll take it better than she would if he said it out loud to her face.

He lets some of his weight drop to his knees until he’s just resting above Maverick. He doesn’t bother telegraphing his intentions this time and goes straight for a kiss. He nips at her bottom lip until she opens her mouth for him, and he eats the moan it earns him.

He pours everything into it.

Let me stay, let me be here, I want everything you’re willing to give me, I signed up for you and everything about you, I could never imagine leaving you, don’t send me away—

I want the chance to love you, please let me have it.

He pulls away first this time, and he’s pleased to see that he’s left Maverick breathless. He cradles her face in his hands, and Maverick looks up at him with a smile teasing at the corner of her mouth, the same way it had when they’d met on the deck of the Enterprise after she saved his life three times over and said she’d let him be her wingman.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he repeats. “I won’t leave you.”

She smiles.

[solvisun]

Who are your moots that’re too nice and criminally underrated that it should be a legitimate crime for them to be so kind and underrated 🔫 No pressure to answer!

oh my god @seneon @choccorin @pneumosia @massacremars @sahrii @stellar-headquarters @yoru-exe @eumys @wakeupmaddie @chlosology @kazucee @luvether @reocidal @vertejay @mayyhaps @angeleilee @dearru @kameyyy plus saki @/yoisami but she deactivated and i really really really miss her

[guoshii]

ꈍ﹒‘My, my. Who had sended me this letter ?

ꈍ﹒‘His highness? How cute, I love you too ― Jun Wu.’

⁺　　　✧　　　﹑　　　❜　　　﹒　　ᵔ

[doctorhouse5343]

While Dream always knew that he would be king someday and rule the Dreaming kingdom like his father has done, it didn't stop the growing pit in his stomach when he was called upon by his mother to discuss the matter. It wasn't much the ruling part that made the young man uneasy, no. It was the potential marriage part that bothered him, even though he knew that he was meant to rule with another by his side : he didn't trust his mother in that regard.

Queen Night had bored him for the last few months by reading out letters from potential suitors who made their interest in the prince well know, trying to 'subtly' hint at the fact that he had to make the choice quickly, but to her dismay the young man rejected them all through a cold letter, which left many of them broken. So when Dream sat down with his mother in the parlor, watching her in silence as she wrote on a few sheets of paper, waiting for yet another row of hearts to leave broken. It's not that he enjoyed inflicting that torment, he simply found all of them boring and insipid, the idea of ending up like his parents was something that he didn't want, so that was the best solution. Before he could ask his mother what this was about, the queen looked up from her work, a sickening sweet smile on her face that filled the prince with dread, one that promised the worse. A royal ball. His mother, the queen, thought that a royal ball would be the perfect opportunity for her son to choose the one that he could call his and before he could interject or throw a word in, she told him that the decision was final, that his attitude was improper : a prince such as he was meant to be social and good with his people, not standoffish, cold, menacing and having cruel tendencies. Not all delighted with the ruling and peeved by his mother's tone, Dream swiftly stood up, declaring that if that was how it was meant to be, then he would do all in his power to make it difficult for her, returning back her glare before exiting the room, determined to make due on his promise.

During the ball, the prince did all in his power to be as awful as possible : sneering at those who dared to enter his space, scoff at all the dance offers and laughing in the faces of a few pathetic flirts. His methods were flawless, he was left alone soon after but he wasn't satisfied. He had to do something that would embarrass the royal couple, but how? An idea soon sprung up as he spotted two young man in the corner of the ballroom, seemingly deep in conversation.

Intrigued by the fact that the two showed no interest in the guests, he decided to approach the two of them, a smile that could rival with his mother's on his face..which quickly morphed to one of awe when the two men shifted their attentions towards them. The first had sunkissed skin, soft brown eyes, brown eyes, and the way that he looked at Dream melted the latter's frozen heart. Finding the prince's shyness adorable, Hob introduced himself, saying that the party was nicer than he expected, due to the tone of the letter, jokingly adding that it was similar to how Prince Hobo Heart wrote, to of which the white haired boy at Hob's side grinned in reply. The skull pattern on the lad's face intrigued Dream greatly, though what caught his attention the most were his eyes. Blue as the crystalline waters that he used to swim in when he was just a boy. Sensing his stare, Hobo Heart explained that he normally didn't attend royal gatherings due to the usually unpleasant company and the dancing, but that a letter from Prince Hob begging him to attend made him change his mind, combined with the fact that Hob had managed to convince the chefs to serve hearts, eyeballs and the sorts to the dark prince, which made Heart even more eager to attend. Not once perturbed by the prince's words, Dream took the hands of the two royals in his own, caressing it before proudly announcing that he shall be looking no further, he has found what he was looking for. With a wicked grin, the raven haired beauty picked up a heart from a plate, offering it to a very happy Hobo Heart, who eagerly ate it under the terrified eyes of the guests, all the while Queen Night's screams could be heard behind them

[bookish-rival]

Kiss under the gevran Mistletoe

Art by the amazing @gessueter and commissioned by the lovely @StardustSteph(Twitter) aka @leiaamidala

A short fanfic of Wren x Alarik from the books Twin Crowns, Cursed Crowns and Burning Crowns by Catherine Doyle & Katherine Webber

Pairing/Ship: Queen Wren Greenrock, King Alarik Felsing

Trope: Enemies to Lovers, Rivals To Lovers, Fluff, Angst

Warning: Mention of characters death, cursing

Summary:

Queen Wren needed some fresh air during festivities held at Grinstad Palace, hosted by Royal Family of Gevra. While taking a stroll through the quiet hallways together, Wren and Alarik noticed a Mistletoe hanging above them. Wren is given a choice. To either kiss her mortal enemy (once again) or walk away, ignoring her growing feelings for him.

WARNING! This story takes place after the second book, so HUGE SPOILER ALERT FOR BOTH BOOKS!

———————————————————————————————————————

Hi!

This is my first EVER story I’ve written and posted here. The Twin Crowns series has captured my heart for some time now, and only after reading the second one did I start imagining my own stories for these characters.

The books are absolutely amazing! I cannot wait for the third and final book of this trilogy.

I therefore tried to come up with my own little scenario.

A few things in advance: This is my first fanfic I wrote and English is only my second language, so there might be a lot of mistake in there. I also used exact parts from the books to fill in the flashbacks, so if some parts sound familiar than that’s because it’s 100% copied from the books hahaha.

I also didn’t know how to set the scene and mood correctly, so it starts of with a fast summary of the books (so big spoilers) as it explains why Wren happened to be in Gevra once again. There’s a big jump into the story as the two were already walking together. I didn’t know how to start off, so if it feels a bit rushed I’m sorry.

Please show more support to the authors of this series and I hope that you will enjoy this little oneshot.

Have fun!

———————————————————————————————————————

The Christmas season is coming to a close and every year the royal family of Gevra holds a huge feast at Grinstad Palace to celebrate.

This year however, the Twin Queens of Eana, Rose Valhart and Wren Greenrock, as well as their best friend and strongest ally King Shen Lo of the Sunkissed Kingdom, have been invited as honorary guests by King Alarik Felsing of Gevra himself.

The cold hearted King of Beasts invited them after a long exchange of letters with the Queens.

Their last meeting included the second death of the King’s younger sibling, Prince Ansel.

After he died in Eana, Wren was forced to bring him back with forbidden blood magic which caused him to return as a living corpse more than a real resurrected human being.

After multiple attempts of warning King Alarik and his sister, Princess Anika Felsing, about the dangerous outcome, they later agreed on letting their brother rest in peace.

The Felsing siblings asked Wren to perform her healing magic to send Prince Ansel’s body in a peaceful slumber, but it didn’t work when she tried.

Later, her sister Queen Rose took on the task and gave the Prince the peace he wanted, and his family the peace they needed.

The exchange of letters with the Gevran King also involved a specific evil witch, that holds a dangerous threat to both their kingdoms. The festivities are a perfect chance to talk about forming an alliance to fight this threat together.

That’s why, even though the twin Queens feel a chill running down their spines just thinking about traveling to Gevra, they still accepted the invitation. Hoping to officially bury the hatchet with the icy realm and additionally, build an alliance between Gevra and Eana, as a gift to their people.

*End of Summary*

The King of Gevra, and the Queen of Eana left the noisy ballroom behind, as they walked through the hallways of Grinstad Palace.

Alarik suddenly stopped under a door arch, as he noticed something on the ceiling. He looked up amused.

“What’s so funny?” Wren said as she looked up suspiciously, trying to see what got the frost-hearted King’s attention.

At first she didn’t realize what she saw, but then she remembered the Gevran tradition, Princess Anika told her about. The so called ”Mistletoe”, saying two souls whom stand beneath one, will have to peck their lips or be cursed for life.

Wren mumbled swear words while nervously looking around if anyone can see them, hoping, even a tiny bit, that their privacy will be interrupted and her complicated flame of desire for the ice cold king wouldn’t develop and confuse her any further. Dammit. That’s exactly the reason, why she was avoiding private moments with him.

Suddenly, her head got clouded in the memory of the first and last kiss they shared.

The time they made out in the middle of her self made blizzard, outside of Grinstad Palace.

She remembers the moment Alarik smiled into the kiss, not being afraid of the witch in his arms or the blizzard at his back. Both trying to find release from their own grief, and finding it, in each others embrace.

She shock her head, trying to get rid of those memories before they overtake her actions.

Only after gazing back at the King’s face did she realize that she must’ve looked absolutely pathetic, looking around for people, turning all shades of red trying to distract from the mistletoe hovering above them.

“I am not kissing yo-“

“Too bad, it’s tradition.” King Alarik stepped foward, cutting her off. She immediately looked away trying to hide her red face.

Wren couldn’t take it, she was looking like a fool in this moment. Trying to get the upper hand in this, she took a stride towards him, facing him directly.

“Where’s your mother? I’d rather kiss her.”

A chuckle escaped his throat. “That’s very low. Even for-“

“A witch?” Wren crossed her arms.

“-you.” Alarik finished.

“Same thing.”

Another low chuckle. “You may be a witch, having your own kind of spells…”

Alarik glided even closer, making Wren tilt her head to look in his shining blue eyes.

“But……if you break a Gevran tradition, you’ll end up being cursed for life. Is that what you want?”

“….Are you blackmailing me right now?”

“Perhaps.”

“I feel honored, your Majesty.” Wren said while sarcastically curtsying to him.

“But with all my, none existing, respect for you… I will NOT be kissing you.”

A smirk came across her lips, thinking she finally turned the conservation around.

Alarik hummed in response.

”Oh don’t worry, your Highness…” His sarcasm mirrored her own.

”I never said anything about you having to kiss me.” He said while slowly decreasing the distance of their bodies, causing Wren to retreat backwards until her back hits the wall of the arch.

”W-What?” Wren hated how intimidated her voice sounded. Alarik was so close that she could feel his breath on her face.

”What made you think…” His right hand caressed her silvery strand of hair, until he reached her cheek. He wasn’t touching her cheek, his hand was just levitating beside her face. Wren could only feel a light touch, because her trembling would cause her face to slightly brush against his hand.

Her eyes darted to his left hand that had found itself gently placed on her waist, his thumb soothingly drawing circles over her skin, sending even more shivers up her spine.

”…that You will be the one initiating the kiss.” He whispers, almost afraid that someone will hear them, even though it was obvious that they were completely alone.

Wren’s eyes met his, immediately getting trapped in his gaze.

Once again the memory of their past kiss slipped itself into her mind.

She knew Alarik Felsing can kiss. His quiet ferocity to his passion, the way he held her tightly against him, how he angled her head to claim her mouth and the way she let him back then. The moment his lips seizing hers, the spark being ignited and them being consumed in its fire.

The Gevran King closed the distance further, pulling the Queen out of her thoughts. She slammed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the feeling of his soft lips against hers once again. Deep down feelings of uncertainty and guilt creeped up. But the touch of his lips never came.

She opened her eyes again, trying not to let any signs of disappointment from her gaze betray her feelings to him.

Alarik‘s eyes weren’t closed. They were mainly focused on hers, like he never closed them in the first place, making it seem like he never intended on kissing her at all.

Her confusion grew with every millisecond the King wasn’t moving.

The Gevran King, Alarik Felsing, was a powerful, selfish man. He could get everything he wanted, he could’ve captured her lips right then if he so desired and yet, here they were. Not kissing.

Just staring in each others eyes, as his hands continued to ghostly hold her waist and hair, not daring to capture her with more force. And additionally, Alarik didn’t show any interest of wanting to close the remaining distance. He did not move, and he was not going to move.

The Witch was held loosely in the embrace of the Icy King, free to step away from him and leave any building feelings for the King behind, or capture his lips herself, if she so desired.

Wren couldn’t believe it. Was he messing with her?

Was it all just a game? Finding the perfect time and spot to make her vulnerable and then mess with her? Slowly, but surely, the old feelings of anger and disappointment towards the cold-hearted King of beasts returned. Deep down Wren had a feeling that, sooner or later, Alarik would tease her about the heated kiss they shared in the past. It was obvious that he was gonna be the one who’d bring it up again. He enjoyed it, for some sick reason she doesn’t really wanna know.

But she didn’t enjoy it. She never wanted to kiss him. She hated him. They hated each other.

The blizzard of her confused feelings clouded her mind mind that day, she wasn’t thinking straight. The kiss was a mistake.

Her now furious eyes flickered at his gaze, trying to find some truth in his annoyingly shining blue pupils. Then, a sudden thought overtook her mind. The moment she threw herself at him in the heated moment, appeared before her.

It was snowing in the courtyard as they held each other, both screaming at each other, as Wren’s new magic created a snowstorm around them, pushing them closer, due to her emotions raging inside of her. Snowflakes landed all over their clothes, hair and a single one stopping on Alarik´s bottom lip.

“I hate you!“ Wren hissed. “I hate you more than anyone I’ve ever met!“

“And you think i care?“ Alarik sneered. “I hate you too.“

“Tyrant.“

“Brat.“ He shot back.

“Wretch.“

“Witch.“

“So what?!“ Wren’s gaze fell to that single snowflake on his lip.

Alarik held her face in his hands. Trying to hold her still and stop the blizzard going out of control around them.

“Wren.“ He said with a serious tone. “Stop. It.“

“Make. Me.“ And then, they were kissing.

Wren didn’t know why she licked the snowflake from his bottom lip. Or why he opened his mouth to seize the kiss. But it happened.

She initiated the kiss.

SHIT. She kissed him.

If not for that damn snowflake on his impeccable lips, it wouldn’t have happened. But it did. And now it was gonna happen again.

This time, however, she was thinking straight. She’s able to stop the kiss and the forming of any more complicated and uncertain feelings for the man infront of her. Guilt, grief, anger, frustration, disappointment. Those feelings were just a few snowflakes in the blizzard of suffering roaming inside her, at this time. Wren couldn’t stop the blizzard now, nor ever, she feared. But she is able to keep someone else from getting drawn into her storm.

She had to stop this. To protect herself, and him, from more complications between each other. To protect them both from another mistake.

“Too close…” Wren swallowed as she looked into his eyes.

She was sure that deep inside his gaze, was a spark of hurt and disappointment, before his eyes turned to an understanding look, as he slowly retreated his face from hers. Giving her space. When his hands left her body, she trembled from the lost feeling of his closeness.

This happened before.

She was broken. Too broken to see someone else’s feelings. Too broken to see her own feelings.

To see, to feel, what she really wanted, what she needed.

After failing to heal Prince Ansel a few months ago, she ran away, breaking down in her room. She couldn’t do to. She couldn’t heal the Prince’s soul and give him the peace he desired. Wren couldn’t. No matter how much she wanted to. And she did, want to. She wanted to fix her mistakes. By using forbidden magic, she poisoned her own soul.

She cursed herself. She was broken.

”You are not broken, Wren.”

Alarik’s voice reached her memory. She wasn’t alone with her grief, that day. There was someone else next to her.

It was Alarik. He ran after her that day. He saw her in her weakest moments. In her most pathetic moment. And yet, he had no intention of making fun of her.

“You are not broken.” Alarik said.

“Yes, I am! What the hell do you know?!”

“I know that if you can bring yourself to care about something beyond yourself, you are not broken.”

He raised his hand, curling a strand of her hair around his finger.

When he lifted it, Wren saw that it was bright silver.

“See how much you care, Wren.”

Alarik traced the single black strand in his summer wheat hair, which developed after his fathers death.

“My father once told me that to know grieve is to know love, and you cannot love something if you’re irretrievably broken.”

Back then she was staring at the King, trying to figure out where this version of him had come from, or if perhaps it had been there alll along, hiding beneath his icy facade.

“You once told me that love is a horrible business.” Countered Wren sobbing.

“It is.” said Alarik “But why does that have to change anything?”

Her shoulders sagged under the weight of the truth.

“I can’t fix Ansel, I can’t even fix myself.”

“You don’t need to be fixed. You just need time to heal.”

Wren closed her eyes, feeling his grief as her own.

He stepped back.

A small, wayward part of her wanted to reach for him, at that moment.

To curl herself in his embrace and distract herself from the crack in her heart.

“Go home. Find your healing witch.”

She’ll never forget his soft and fleeting smile. The way a moment of peace in a lifetime of war was given to her, by the man she called her enemy.

He stood back then, and the moment slipped away. He stood back now too.

”But…” Wren’s broken and timid voice reached Alarik in a second, as he once again searched for her eyes. She looked at him, her vision slowly decreasing as tears developed in her eyes.

Wren let the last moment to slip away. But she wasn’t gonna let this one slip away.

She grabbed his belt and pulling him closer, his nose inches away from crashing into her forehead. Her hands were trembling while holding onto the fabric of his shirt, almost turning white due to her fierce grip.

”But…” Her eyes slipped a little further down and land on his lips once again. “…not close enough.”

”Wren...” Alarik whispers, softly, before she pressed her lips against his. Immediately, he melted into her.

Different than their past lip debate, this was a different sensation. Sweet, not hasty or needy. Soft, tender, sincere. Things she never expected from the Gevran King.

This time, the kiss didn’t develop into a fierce battle of emotions, it stayed as a diligent touch, lingering long enough for both of them to adapt their breathing until their chests were heaving in synchronization. Alarik gently moved his right hand though her hair, while the one on her waist continued to massage her tender flesh. It made her lightheaded, forming an empty space in her mind with no room for doubt, grieve, or any other feeling other than….this.

Once again, it was the selfish and fierce King with an ice block as heart, that gave her even the tiniest bit of peace in the battle she was fighting, the one in her country and in herself. This second of vulnerability from both her, a witch queen, and the gevran king, made her feel at peace. Even if it didn’t hold long.

Her feelings were just as confusing and complicated as the man she was embracing. Alarik was a complicated man indeed. Last time she discovered new side of him, it that twisted her stomach. Wren didn’t like how it cast Alarik in a different light, not as a brutal king but as an ordinary young man. She didn’t want to think of him like that. Every time she spares a thought for him, good or bad, it gets intertwined with guilt. It would slowly start to eat her from the inside, until she couldn’t tell if it’s right or wrong. She didn’t want to feel too much, she didn’t want things to get mixed up and grow more complicated. After all, the only person who gets more insecure about their own indefinite feelings, is her.

Due to her thoughts, the young Queen unintentionally squirmed in his hold, which caught Alarik‘s attention. As if he could read her mind, and feel her building doubt, he slipped his tongue through her lips, surprising her so much, that a squeal and moan escaped her at the same time.

She broke away from his hold, trembling more with embarrassment than fury.

“You slipped a tongue in there, you fuckin-“

“Well, you were making weird noises so clearly you enjoyed that.” He joked, showing off his canines. She offendedly pushed him backwards, so her back wasn’t pressed against the cold stone wall anymore.

“This changes nothing. I still hate you.”

“Didn’t seem that way a second ago.”

“I-“

“You kissed me.“

“Shut up.”

“That was-“

“That never happened.“

“Wren, I don’t think this ego lift is ever going to fade.“

She attacked him with a punch. Like he saw it coming, Alarik caught her wrist and pulled her into his chest, holding her hand against his heart.

“Still hate me?”

“Definitely.”

“Just as much?”

“Hmm…maybe…” she reached her other hand infront of his face. Her fingers pressed strongly against each other, not leaving a gap between the tips. ”This…less.”

Alarik smirked, distancing himself once again as he lead her hand towards his face.

”I’ll take what I can get.” He pressed his lips to her hand. Wren silently gasped as the feeling of his lips left her skin.

”I need a drink.”

”What’s the magic word?” Alarik said, jokingly.

“Oh, yeah nevermind. I’ll get it myself.” She scooted past him, hearing a faint chuckle erupt from his mouth.

Together, they made their way back to the festivities, shoulders brushing softly with each step, as the sound of their footsteps, just like their feelings of distrust towards one another, slowly quiet down.

The End.

[tieflingfingers]

Exquisite Corpse

Exquisite Corpse: (noun) a game and/or method by which a collection of words or images is collectively assembled

(Character exploration and scene rewrite.)

Word Count: 4737

Pairing: Astarion x Tav (oc, half-drow bard, Thomasin.)

Summary: Rewrite of the first bite scene, fleshing out my character lore and diving more into a character study of Astarion in the moment. I always imagined it as two elves fumbling and bumbling mostly. (3 drafts and about a month of writing in my spare time.)

Warnings: Adjacent to horror/angst/humor/the seed planting of fluff. Vague mentions of abuse/trauma/whiskey. Two scrappy folks trying to not 1v1 each other and play nice. Wyll is the only adjusted one here.

Far into the depth of Faerun, lived proof of a forbidden courtship blossomed. Proof sprouting from its bud. The birth of an honest lovechild. An infant whose cheeks were pink and supple. Raspberries stained flesh, always grown on the same acre of farmland. The same acre as her mother and her mother before her. A lineage built feminine yet sturdy. 

The child was of half-drow descent, bathed by light not afforded to her father. Her mother would daydream about teaching her to braid her hair and tend crops. They’d one day read books about traveling lands beyond even her own comprehension. Tangible blessings. 

From the half-elf's first moments, she was adorned with a ribbon of pink undertones. Settled beneath her flesh, risen with every laugh the infant mirrored. Her mother would imprint her love with a nestle. Skin that was decorated by a labor of love. Sunkissed, speckled, and pressed against her child’s cheek.

"There’s so much to see in every plane, Thomasin,” her mother whispered.

The legacy of Thomasin’s father seemed to get swept away into the Underdark. Far off tales. His complexion was described as deepened in silver tints. A tall gentleman who wore a gentle expression. One whose light was never fostered. Yet, he still knew where the light resided. Ideas and vagaries never to be spoken aloud.

 It merely settled in his chest. Muddled and confusing to define, but important enough to carry over the years. Memories of his presence were left like breadcrumbs. Morsels that only found themselves within letters and anecdotal praise of her childhood. Memories that tried their best to not be muddied. To not be tainted. These weren’t documentations of Drow pillaging and contemporary misinformation. He was folklore she'd grow to cherish.

Now Thomasin marched on her own, keeping the tale ever-expanding. Adventures on the topsoil her mother birthed her upon. Proven as fruitful as they were merciless.

Tucked away under a thick quilt slept Thomasin, lifetimes away from her original roots. Dark hair sprawled around her head like a halo. Strands entwined and unfurled from restless slumber in the throes of her tent. Her mind clung to the background noise of new acquaintances. Their words mingled amongst one another, recounting anecdotes or playful jabs. Wine often was the foundation of dinner. Even without hearty meals, they bonded over the fire and warmth in their bellies. Each crackling pop of its flames became a countdown to silence.

Her body rest. Every night, flames eventually simmered down to a flicker. One by one, newfound companions retired to their sleeping mats, lulled by the alcohol slumped in their core. Only the light shuffling of whoever had been appointed lookout would be left. And so, under the awning of an old oak tree, she drifted back into what sleep she could muster. 

Within her confines, limbs wrapped themselves into the fetal position. Forty-fives years of age and her hands had documented such. Rings adorned each of her fingers, clanking against one another, twisting round and round like the rings of a tree. Encrusted gems wore generous scuffs and gold-plated metals revealed their true lacking luster. Prized as ever, nonetheless.

Her frame was worn but strong. Travel brought forth steady inclines, grassy hills, and whatever could be foraged from the land before her. She’d decorate herself with curated fashion tastes, pigments, scars from unfortunate scraps. Hips wide when the seasons were plentiful and a posture curated over decades of structure. When the journey grew tedious, laborious for the soul, there was comfort in her nest. 

Her satchel had a thick leather exterior, propping itself up like a presence of its own. 

Inside were only the essentials: 

A tiny stoneware bowl, gifted from past friends. Scarves made of fine stolen silk, whose weave snagged from nature’s long undeniable embrace. Books with split bindings lovingly re-bound by hand. Meticulous and maintained, threaded bundles of pages becoming whole once more. They bore anthologies of tales from the mouths of Faerun and guides to the edible flora in untamed territory.

Tchotchkes and tucked away keepsakes. Bottled liquids and lotions, floral and earthy scents slipping past cork with the faintest aroma. A violin whose strings had been plucked, popped, and rewound more times than she could count. An instrument beaten and babied all in the name of livelihood. Her comforts. Her essentials.

Images of tea times with loved ones and anxious liminal space leaked into her brain. Nighttime often plagued her with contentment and groveling in tandem, but it felt all too mundane these days. What was left would soon be filled with ideas for limericks anyhow. The thought alone found some sort of peace. It stretched itself thin and relaxed her stiffened joints. The glossier the top coat, the more fulfilling her slumber. 

Despite swaddling herself as if curled beside a hearth, awareness of her surroundings rarely faltered. Noises would always harmonize. Rustling leaves. Native berries plucked by the gust. As her mother always said, “We are a guest to nature. The nocturnal world has always lived with us, just as the light does."

Even then she wasn’t prepared. 

The nocturnal had entered her home.

Air began to feel thicker, heavier. The weight of cast shadows had an ever faint density atop her skin. There was no consideration for what or who was lurking. Only survival, a split second to allow her eyes to open and catch a glimpse of the grey and black shadow hovering above her. They darted back and forth to soak in the silhouette whilst her right eye inferred behind its cloudy cornea.

A pit formed deep within her chest. 

Before her was only reassurance of common fears. 

Domineering men and strategic company.

There was no hesitation in her reflexes, however. No need to process anxieties. No time. Muscles tensed, but words fled from her lips in rapid unnatural succession. A spell that slept so readily inside her in case of emergency. Reciting broken Drow language, texts of her youth, and vague horrific promises. The whispers trickled their way from her tongue into a river of flowing smoke. Cryptic, glowing only the faintest blue haze. A haunted melodic had snaked its way into the elven man's skull.

It crept through his ears, igniting any inkling of apprehension into a full blown panic. He gasped. It was only a mere few seconds, but the pressure entangled within his temples. Sharpened ephemeral claws wrapped around his brain's already wrought and battered disposition. The terror swirled until it managed to escape through his tear ducts and ever so slightly agape mouth. 

Into the darkness outside her tent, Astarion stumbled. He flung himself backward, landing square on his palms, disillusioned by sudden backlash.

Thomasin's breathing was ragged. She had managed to scuttle to the mouth of her tent, a small dagger unsheathed from her thigh. It became embedded within her fingers through an unyielding grip. A brilliant strategy if it weren't for the woman's shaking hands. Chips and wear along its metal mumbled its victims' names. One by one, few and far between, until they were inaudible with the next sharpening. The old blade had become a beacon of last resort use.

From the base of her other palm, mellowed light appeared. It bobbed about, rhythmic in its sway, and glinting upon both elves untimely unpolish. Before her, the perpetrator had been illuminated. Astarion was shivering in place, unable to grasp emotion beyond the familiarity of magical cruelty.

He knew he had to simply endure. The clutches of the Weave always dissolved before he did. Luckily, Thomasin had little intent to prolong such anguish. She knew, in this short stretch of vulnerability, she could approach him with caution. Like a writhing animal peeking with curiosity at another writhing beast. Quills plunged their way into the other's side in fright in a sort of comical mercy.

Astarion’s knuckles appeared speckled in shades of purple like a bruised plum. Its exterior had been tumbled and prodded, hitting the ground before it was truly ripe. Stabilizing his breath shone how his posture looked uncomfortable to maintain. His frame ached under the weight of its growing hunger. Worry wore heavy on an aching jaw and his pallid skin tone spoke of unrevealed pangs.

Although a hint of relief seemed to wash over Astarion. Gradual, but all too welcomed, he had begun to melt back into his previous state. His fingers eased from their strain in the dirt as eyes flicked back up to hers. Exhausted predation.

“Gods—shit,” he muttered. “It’s not–”

Words clamored to be set free from Thomasin’s throat, vicious and vitriolic, but adrenaline kept her frozen. Syllables bashed against her teeth, grinding them down until the unbridled anger settled into something meek sneaking from her lips. Uncharacteristically so. 

“Please, don’t do this. Whatever you-Whatever that was about to be,” Thomasin interupted. 

“You don’t have to use that, truly. Honestly. Aren’t blades and gutting a friend on sight a tad passé these days?” His voice cracked. 

Thomasin’s brow furrowed. Almost incredulous. Silence to allow him to consider literally any better defense.

“Perhaps my reputation precedes me, but I promise I wasn’t trying to hurt you. Do you see me as some kind of– oh, I don’t know. Some ne’er-do-well? I’ll admit, I’m a little hurt,” he whispered almost as audibly as his speaking voice. The lilt in his cadence was slithering its way back in. 

Astarion rolled his shoulder, shifting weight to straighten his spine and tend to the impact onto his wrists. His answers were temperate. Collected, if it weren’t for stutters and awkward laughter forcing themselves to the forefront. Every crack would be blanketed by familiar social cues and overcompensating charisma. Thomasin recognized it. There was little left to hide the fatigue he pressed down, as if forcibly pulverized against the weight of an ever-rotating stone wheel. Nothing left but powdered iron and rust. 

“There are few things I have a difficult time wording,” Astarion continued. A breath in and out, perhaps for dramatics. “Nothing awful, terrible, of course. I wouldn’t dare ruin the company we keep. Only those most mild of con–”

She watched as his entire body tensed up once more. Pale elven ears drooped down the moment he caught a glimpse of another in their proximity. Wyll had peeked from his tent in the near distance. He was hunched over and clinging to the slumber he’d been awoken from. Like a concerned mother investigating neighborly spats, too far to piece together what was occurring.

“Is everything alright?” he asked in his own hushed tone.

Astarion laughed. Each chuckle punctuated itself as if to convince his audience of good tidings. His unregulated volume rang even unnatural to him, and he immediately quieted himself. Before he could dig himself deeper into the metaphorical grave, his prey spoke up.

“It’s nothing,” she said, tucking her dagger delicately within her sleeve. “Seems Astarion spooked himself. Spooked me too with all the noise.”

This earned a smile from Wyll. And then a yawn.

“You two need not worry. The forests are just as bustling as the city streets, I can assure you. It’s probably the wind. Wake me and the others if trouble is afoot.”

“Aha, yes. Afoot,” Astarion managed.

Thomasin sighed. For a man that often boasted of suave proclivities, he was doing himself little favors. 

“Of course, don’t let him infringe on the Blade’s beauty sleep. I’ll stay up for a little while until he gets his barings,” she reassured before nodding to the gentle horned man. Enough to quell the situation and bid sweet dreams between the three. 

As the coast was clear, Astarion’s uncertainty made subtle changes upon his face. His ears never fully rose, now unsure what he was dealing with. He found himself thrust into his prey’s tent by the scruff of his shirt collar, white linens now bathed in full bloom of blues and calm violets. The infallible expression of confidence on his lips juxtaposed the cramped corner he pushed himself into. In fact, as her dagger grazed the crook of his neck, he appeared almost enthused.

Thomasin sighed. The closed quarters between them seemed to not intimidate as planned. She recoiled the act just enough to speak genuinely.

“What the fuck were you doing?”

“Alright, darling. Alright, don’t behead me before you’ve even let me have my peace. Sharing is caring, you know, and-” He laid out both of his hands before her, gesturing to his next suggestion as fact. “We know you do secretly care about me.”

Thomasin rolled her eyes. She had moved her position a mere inch before he piped up again, preparing his rebuttal after every previous rebuttal. 

“Fine, fine. You’ve pulled my leg enough. You know- There’s that ghastly sight we saw on our walk earlier in the week. Hog had those curious little wounds on his neck.” The man continued to smile, but his voice betrayed him. It wracked his nerves to say such aloud. “Perhaps… the stories of creatures going bump in the night aren’t entirely as they seem. That-Perhaps… Perhaps! Just maybe, vampire spawn live amongst you just as your peers.”

Astarion watched as her chest jolted with sudden inhalation. This was subdued fear he’d witnessed all too often in his two centuries prowling the night. However, this was different. No masters or gods to tell the elf what to do or how to act. No higher powers to blame as he could always do on script. 

He found himself leaning forward, grasping any form of recovery.

“Thomasin, darling. I am not in this state of being out of my volition. I-I-There are powerful people in Baldur’s Gate, an evil powerful man that I had the luck of being plucked from.” He swallowed hard. Visibly painful yet still attempting to be dignified. “That does not… quench me of my hunger, I’m afraid.”

Despite every part of her intuition pleading her to not give in, she felt her limbs ease. She hadn’t simply forgiven him, but he sat there unguarded. Unprotected in a manner no single person at the campsite had ever observed.  

“So… you feed on animals? That doesn’t explain…”

He averted his eyes. “I won’t be saccharine about all of this. Every day I grow weaker, everyday it gets more and more difficult to fight beside you all and hide such ailments. Color me desperate.”

They both offered the other a weak laugh in near unison, like it was their individual responsibility to squash this heavy reality. Her mirth surprised Astarion though. She had no reason to spare him the quickened death of a dagger through his chest. The obvious answer was self-preservation. He found her hesitance almost more frightening.  

 “Miscommunication is going to kill you before that big bad man does…But, it seems my familiarity with vampirism isn’t riddled with tales of rabid monsters, after all,” she finally said in the midst of silence. Nervousness pinkened her cheeks, but she spoke with quiet, unexpected reassurance. “If I allow you to drink from me, will you feel better?”

His gaze intensified in its confusion. Every fiber of his being had subconsciously prepared itself for another infinite living death. There could be a stake planted deep against his ribcage. Withering starvation in unfamiliar forests. Everything his master had promised would happen upon his escape. The camp could rise up and make a spectacle of it. Why wouldn’t there be theatrics, even in death? It’d amuse everyone he’d left in Baldur’s Gate.

His lashes fluttered as he blinked away all the unholy thoughts. He was as alive as he could be, gathering what was left of his energy to sit up and appear cordial.

“Of course, dear. Not a drop more than what you are willing to give. Only consensual blood between traveling companions. I promise over your dead–my dead– Imagine a much more pleasant metaphor.”

Thomasin had begun to chew at the thin skin of her lip. Whilst her decision making never had the best track record, there was coziness in the unconventional path. Dangers had always felt more perilous than the man sitting before her. And so, she took a deep breath, as if releasing all of those logical worried feelings.

 By the gods, she hoped she wasn’t to regret this. Her parents must’ve been rolling in their assumed graves, surely. If only they could cover their eyes.

“Alright,” she whispered, slipping her blade back into its sheath. She shifted back and pulled her knees closer to her chest. “What should I do?”

Astarion's movements were slow. He'd slink around her to position himself behind, her shoulders encouraged to rest against his chest. The vampire never had the luxury of indulgence. Never an artery so willing and gifted. Centuries of punishment still tugged at his strings though.

  There was never anyone to teach him how this operated. How to properly feed upon a victim. Where to bite, how to ensure preservation, leeching life without the inevitable corpse left in its wake. 

Thomasin hadn't heard him speak a word since she granted him permission. Only his arm wrapping around her waist in support as he brushed aside long strands of hair. They ran down her clavicle, cascading like a curtain to reveal her neck. The mere sight awoke something feral in his brain. Some dying animal careening to its waterhole for sustenance. 

Suppressed enough to keep control. Remain in control. He wasn't uncouth, just thankful for the dim lighting. Gold filling to hide the hairline cracks in his pottery.

"Is this going to hurt badly?" she asked. Her hands found their way to the sleeve pressed against her abdomen. Seconds went by, no answer. Only the visible shift in her muscles as she tensed up. She heard his sharpened inhale.

"No, no, no. Just- Let yourself relax against me. I'll keep you steady."

"Is this good? What if you go on a count? I breathe in and out a few times? You think that'll help?"

His voice grew quiet, hurried yet somewhat consoling. 

“Yes, yes. It's only a pinch. A nick, even. Just…” His words trailed off, finding himself hesitating at the touch of her warm hand on his forearm. 

One, two-- and not another syllable more. 

Puncturing into flesh felt like the hissing of an unkempt fire. Dried kindling snapping and sparking against moisture in the air. She yelped. Muffled by her own bite, screwed tight to keep herself from squirming too hard. The wound in her neck pulsated in a way she'd never experienced, uncomfortable and siphoned. Excitement of the unknown had all but culminated into panic.

Thomsin’s nails dug into his shirt, fingers pawing at the linens and cold embrace. They searched for any semblance of safety. Through the creases and cuffed folds, landing at his wrist and forearm in search of relief. 

Unbeknownst to the half-elf, there was a deep seated desire to keep going. Something in her subconscious she hadn't acknowledged enough to decipher. Whatever it was, she knew she could endure. Using his arms as a brace, every scuffed gem and gold plated scratch made its own codex into his skin. If there was anything left of her, she'd leave a legacy behind somehow. 

Astarion's body writhed against her in pure unbridled instinct. One of his palms pressed up against Thomasin’s jawline to keep her in place, learning how to lead in this macabre dance. Never had the finer tastes in life been in such abundance. Firing up his senses and lighting every vein within him, his thirst quenched for the first time felt like newfound riches. His eyes had nearly glazed over until the sharp pain in his wrist brought him back. Thomasin's composure seemed to be crumbling.

Just as her jewels deepened their imprint, she felt him pause. He had pulled his head back. Only an inch or so. How she caught his attention was a miracle, he thought. Tongue coated in blackened blood, pooling to his lips with unabashed hedonism. Whether he'd revel in his deeds later were of no concern right now. 

"Please, keep counting, darling,” he managed to utter.

As he began once more, the pain that once seized her adapted, evolved. The half-elf felt herself venturing into a bloodless calm.  Hearts beating in near sync, quick to bypass one another. His aggravated fervor and her descent into the dirt. The oozing ebb and flow of building delirium. An amalgamation of every misstep and the bottles of whiskey that couldn’t quite wrap them in creature comforts.

And so, she did as she was told. Her body followed, creeping into a languid state, limp wrists and head rolling in any which direction he pleased. Back to counting. 

Two. Three. Four.

The numbers coinciding felt more like concepts than measurements.

Five. Six. Seven.

Internal dialogues had begun to devolve. Abstraction. It washed over her. Abrupt and startling like tumbling into a cold bath. Somewhere, contentment began to leak in. Whether it was the making of his presence or her own phantasms, mysteries for another day.

Eight. Nine. Ten.

Thomasin clutched onto him as a safety net. She ran her fingers along his clothing. Over every stitch, discovering mending and clinging to hidden patchwork. Every bump and valley. 

By now, the sounds of appetite and neglected vigor happening in her ear were fading into recollection. How his words always felt sticky with innuendo. Lines he must've told every living being that entered his vicinity. It was never as off-putting as she put forth though. She was drawn to the act, thankfully not always out of naivety.

Decades of elven living could spoil and sour even the most headstrong. Every dark alleyway, every social situation. Put under examination for survival. Erecting this statue of overconfidence often made the most sense. Even if she knew little of the gory details that crafted him, Thomasin sensed the act fizzling out.

She focused on sensations, careful to not get lost in every other countdown. The threads. The slowing of her heart beat. The amount of unsubstantial seconds that had gone by.

It beckoned her forward with warm euphoric dreams and brighter pasts, melding into undefined emotion deep within her chest. Color illustrations of bedtime stories and the sound of cobblestone walkways. Dust particles existing indefinitely against a window, evening light peering through. The knits of her favorite sweater and scents of perfume from close friends. 

The protective glow from oil street lamps and air bubbles popping in steins of beer. Fogged mirrors from hot baths and the way sounds muffled when sunk into a wooden tub. Stories told under the covers, fairytales to unfiltered confessions, until the magic illumination fell asleep too. 

These all lived in a hypothetical mist that rolled in, similar to early mornings of her childhood. Thickening, more of a fog. How they'd begun the exchange was unimportant. Details melting into something viscous. Consuming how the two had even met. 

Her fingers were still moving as far as she could understand. Coordination unsteady, but they lived with their own memories and habits. Operating as their own entities despite feeling the weight of the atmosphere weighing down on them. 

The repetitive motions. The color palette. The air. The pressure. The darkness.

Enveloping darkness.

“Stop,” she mumbled. “Please.” Words seemed warped from her lips, unsure she had even spoken them aloud. They felt incorporeal. Crawling towards what momentum was left.

Astarion noticed his eyes had adjusted to near pitch black.

 Her bulb of light had extinguished, blues and violets now deathly quiet. The seas livened and dulled over the course of what felt like hours for the two. A man coursing with vitality and adrenaline he had never fully endured feeling the shallow gasps for air in his arms. As much as Astarion wanted to celebrate, he cursed. Repeating them over and over, scooting backward to let her head lay in his lap. He slapped her cheek twice, printing her blood against her flesh in a hasty spattering. 

"C'mon, damn it. Now is not the time to be stubborn."

Each word tripped over another. He snapped his fingers over her shut eyes, suddenly noticing the thin red ribbons staining his hands and the drips collecting along her neck. Pathways and riverways intertwining, making their route down his arms and dying both of their clothing. He pressed his hand into her neck, hoping to calm the flow he had unleashed. After what he had consumed, anything trickling was important.

“Wake. Up.” He jostled her. “Don’t make me start asking gods for favors.”

Faint pulsing was felt beneath his bracing of her neck, but responses were absent. He couldn’t hold his gaze for long, seeing his own parallels across the young woman’s face in a way that stung. His focus darted about, looking for anything that could stop this escalation. A potion, a salve. A cleric deity with a worrying sense of humor.  

“I fear I may not be on good terms with them anyhow,” he half-heartedly joke, rummaging around until he spotted her backpack. Glass bottles clanking around in leather. Within a diamond shaped bottle glittered liquid he easily recognized. Commonly consumed among mortals for hangovers, bar fights, or the lucky escape from an owlbear. Healing minor injuries and illnesses in a foul swoop. Thomasin’s sickness was more dire than half a bottle, but it was more than enough to toast to.

“Aha, there you go. Watch your pretty little head.”

He tucked a pillow between his thigh and her head, creating elevation. Down came a gentle tug by the pad of his thumb. He pressed on her lower lip to part them and the elixir ran thin down her throat. 

It took a minute or so, but Thomasin’s eyes finally flickered, settling shut once more before her consciousness revved back up. Harsh, haggard, getting unceremoniously shoved back into the realm of the living. Where she lay with a veil of red strewn across her face and the soil smelling of iron richer than she remembered.

“Do you know how irritating these stains are going to be to get out?” Astarion said, taunting her, egging her on to get a single word. Expecting little reaction. 

Thomasin’s body suddenly flinched. A laugh. Still dazed, but somewhat responsive.

“That was nice though,” she whispered, nearly inaudible. 

Astarion’s ears perked up as he was prompt to pull a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping the remains from her body. Wringing the tainted water into a bowl, applying fresh from her canteen, and persisting with a gentle touch.  

He watched as she gradually resigned to the cushion of her bedroll. He took his time, cleaning what was left of his feast. Being alone in such a bizarre twist of fate. He figured he’d appreciate the stillness, running his hand carefully along her cheek, stopping to try and identify patterns laid across her brow. A small series of shapes and probable letters that were almost entirely hidden by long fringe. The same color as her hair, although time and resistance had faded its ink a tinge. 

“Huh. Little rugged of a design for classical violin, don’t you think?”

 He twisted and tilted his head every which way, trying to figure out its meaning. “Artists.” He snickered, everything hitting him gradually. There was success in both his snark and of not committing murder. The absurdity of how his life path was now diverging. His jokes were all weightless though. No one to praise or scoff at him. Only silence making reality far more grounded than he liked.

He wiped his own face with the damp cloth, sneaking self-indulgent licks of what was left on his forearm. It was only then he realized he was shaking a little, but in the dead night, it was a vulnerability he could conceal. Away from judgemental eyes. The solace in that alone tickled him.

In the darkness, he dragged Thomasin’s quilt over her, stopping just above the waist.  Distracted by the way her body gently rose and fell, rickety but alive. He left her partially uncovered, but respectfully settled at the furthest end of her small tent to keep an eye on her. Making the best of his sleeping quarters was child’s play at this point. Curled up, knees to his chest as he’d spent many nights in cold chambers.

Astarion rubbed his forehead. Emotions in intense situations had become muddled and hard to identify over the years. Perhaps it was amusement. Fatigue, relief,  mild disbelief. Fed. 

“By the fucking hells.”

[33max]

MAX FEST 🧡

link to the collection

A huge thank you and well done to everyone who participated in Max Fest 2023, I have enjoyed reading and browsing all the fantastic fics and art in the collection.

If you enjoy these pieces on ao3 please remember to show the creator some love, they’ve worked really hard!

Remember to check out the Max Fest tag for all other works #maxfest2023 and if you would like to join our Max server, Golden Boots Boy, here is the link ♥️

Clan of the Aurochs by @fourmula1 (rated M, 5051 words, max/daniel)

20,000 years ago. A Clan of the Cave Bear AU.

Lions for a Lion by @meecamille (not rated, 445 words & art, max/carlos)

It's just fluff. Carlos doesn't need an excuse to do something special for his boyfriend, Max. He feels like the luckiest man in the world every single day.

C'est moi qui ai vécu by @fricative-pharyngiale (rated M, art & playlist, max/daniel)

A sad girl Max journal and playlist. Featuring family, racing, Daniel, too many flower metaphors, Plath, Shelley and other poets, myths, skeletons in one's closet, and wounds that won't close.

tender is my heart by @missyourflight (rated E, 10,356 words, max/daniel)

Daniel works in the cafe at the end of the pier. Max has never seen the sea. A Never Let Me Go AU.

Gentle Hands by @burnishedvictory (rated E, 9214 words, max/daniel)

Max doesn’t understand why everyone cares so much about sex. He’d much rather talk about racing. Or: Max is asexual.

Smoke and Glitter by @thatsapodium (rated G, 1246 words & art, max/daniel)

Orange, red, and gold reflect from his scales, rippling when he stretches out his wings; with a gentle push, he’s up in the air, flapping through the paddock back to the garage. Dragon Max and his favourite cap.

Lick the stamp and send it by @thatsapodium (rated G, art, max/daniel)

I'll send you all my dreams every day in a letter, sealed with a kiss 💌

tinder grindr bumble happn by @thatsapodium (rated G, art, max)

a cutesy pink, purple and blue collage 💖💜💙

An Opportunity to Sell by tokenkyo (rated G, stickers, max)

Just a humble collection of Max related stickers.

Max Verstappen: World Tour 2023 by @thatsapodium (rated G, art, max)

Breaking News: Max Verstappen officially announces his 9th world tour

Mr Roar’s New Clothes by @thatsapodium (rated G, art)

Art work lovingly inspired by the Turkey Dinosaurs AU by @33max

messaging shenanigans F1 grid style by @waddlingpenguin (rated M, 1521 words, max/daniel)

sunkissed and salty skin by @thewindowatkirkland (rated E, 2779, max/daniel)

“Can I?” Daniel asks, letting his tongue skirt along the skin above Max’s armpit, where it is still mostly just arm and shoulder.

Going up the hillside and the journey just begun by @fricative-pharyngiale (rated M, art, max/daniel)

A collection of AU moodboards centering around Max Verstappen.

you saw me start to believe for the first time by @ruffboisebvettel (rated T, 1635 words, max/carlos)

Max Verstappen was always going to enter F1 with a bang. That wasn't supposed to include knocking up his teammate.

You can’t start a fire without a spark by @33max (rated M, 3040 words, max/daniel)

“Well, we’re in luck!” Daniel giggles from somewhere behind him, and when Max turns around he’s holding up a porn magazine. A nude girl wearing a cowboy hat is on the cover. It’s definitely not Max’s thing, but he supposes Daniel won’t know that, they’ve never… spoken about that. And why would they now? When it’s just them? It’s not like Max is going to have a romantic or sexual relationship, well, ever again.

Thank you again to everyone that participated, remember to show the creators some love! ♥️

[knife-like]

pirate aesthetics .

repost, don't reblog. bold what applies usually, italicize what applies sometimes, and strike out what never or rarely applies . insp .

adventurer ; sprawling paper maps, staring at the horizon, cool breezes, stargazing, notes scrawled in the margins of ancient books, swimming, billowing sails, daydreaming, worn compasses, ink spills, the smell of burning wax, candlelight, singing off-key, the smell of lemons, lit lighthouse

privateer ; eloquent speech, fine tailored lace, yellowed letters with red wax seals, god save the queen, fleurs, music boxes, feather quills, logging journals, blood-stained gold coins, rubies, engraved silver, suntanned leather, gold teeth, iron bars, birds in a cage

rebellious ; calloused hands, exposed sunkissed skin, beach bonfires, gleeful dancing, rusted telescopes, cries from the crows nest, defiant speeches, mist over the ocean, stick'n poke tattoos, stealing from the rich, treasure chests, barrels of rum, broken chains, a sealed scroll

lawless ; knives between teeth, crossed bones, knots of rope, cannonfire, darkness illuminated by firelight, red and black flags, a broken crown, burning ships, bags of money, notched wood, gunpowder, blood, hanged man's noose, a polished cutlass

cursed ; black water, dark storm clouds on the horizon, the eye of the storm, tarnished gold and silver, tentacles below the water's surface, blood in the water, sharks, creaking timber, doldrums, broken anchors at the bottom of the sea, piles of gold coins and other treasures, a figure head of a screaming maiden

tagged by : @shehook / tagging : you maybe :]