#shadow of shady shore

[doodledrawsthings]

first doodles of the year

[palossssssand]

helped flesh out @doodledrawsthings luka beast form heehee

[valerian-insomniac]

Artfight

@doodledrawsthings

I just want to give this giant worm on a string a hug XD

[doppy-enjo]

Attack on @doodledrawsthings grarr

[goosemagician]

A couple doodles of @doodledrawsthings characters! I love “Shadow of Shady Shore” so much, I just had to draw these guys!

[lazyylem0ns]

Artfight attack to @doodledrawsthings

[ecto-hazard]

I don’t think I’ve ever posted anything about this persons stuff but a big inspiration for the design of my character Umbra is from @/doodledrawsthings art

I got into their art back when I was in the BATIM fandom and recently rediscovered stuff they made. especially love their AHIT au (which is my only context for that game despite me owning it for the switch I haven’t played it yet ok) and original characters stuff from Shadow of Shady Shore, who the character I drew here Luka is from. Idk if there’s somewhere I can actually read soss? Like a comic or something? but I love all the concept art I’ve seen.

Anyway I doodled a luka cause I love mak’s art to bits and wanted to tell you all to go check out their blog cause their stuff is amazing

[witch-sweets]

May or may not be hyperfixating on Shadow of Shady Shore rn

Might write a fic or do art

I'm obsessed with the funky werewolf adjacent creature

Idk if they mind being tagged or not but @doodledrawsthings I love your barbie doll OCs very much

[rokon24]

helped flesh out luka beast form heehee

Learn More

[demonfoxnate]

Drew some doodles of the worm boy, character design belongs to @doodledrawsthings.

[aftmeerkat13712]

Made another animation from @doodledrawsthings Shadow of Shady Shores. I went with the second to most recent design since it was my second favorite, aside from the very first one. Still love all of them.

Also, this was why it took me so long to post

[doodledrawsthings]

recent oc doodle pages

[oceansmotion]

Welcome to Gaudy Shore!

Power, fame, wealth— for decades, Sims have come to Gaudy Shore seeking fortune. On the outside, the glitz and glamour are dazzling, but the dark, seedy underbelly of the city casts a long shadow. Will these families shine bright, or will the shadow swallow them up?

Featuring 12 households, Gaudy Shore sees the return of some much beloved and missed families from Sims 1! Set 25 years in the future, this hood can be played as a companion hood to Pleasantview, or on its own.

Every family has their own storytelling album so make sure to check them out!

Keeping reading to learn about the families in Gaudy Shore!

Returning families:

The Mashuga Family

Content to dance the night away, - every night, for decades, - Frankie and Sylvia Marie have taken a hands-off approach to raising their children. Now that they're in their twilight years, what are their kids willing to do to get what they believe is owed to them?

The Hick-Charming Family

Elden only ever wanted what was best for his family, but somehow got himself involved in shady dealings. Charleigh is young and full of life, but will that get her into trouble with the boys? And will Clarke ever leave her bedroom?

The Jones-Smith Family

The Jones-Smith family has been a pillar of the community for decades, and the death of Chris has sent everyone reeling. Nick has vowed to honor his mother by setting his career aside to focus on his family, but that's easier said than done.

Michelle loves to dance, sing, and drink the night away, especially after the death of Mama Chris. Is her new interest in the town magnate genuine, or just another way to extend the party?

New Families:

The Banks Family

Rich, powerful, beautiful— the Banks family is known throughout town for everything beauty-related. Obsessed with only herself, will Arie uncover her husband's secrets? Lux thinks of himself as a good man, but is he really? Will Benjamin choose to follow his heart or his mind?

The Ramoz Family

Nora has always dreamt of being a famous movie star but has found mild success in the writing and voice acting world. Can that be enough for her, or will she strive for bigger and better things? Julien had his heart broken by his two best friends in the world. Can he ever forgive them? And will Carlos find himself involved in the shady underbelly of Gaudy Shore?

The Ermírio de Moraes Family

Wealthy, powerful, lonely, José has it all… except love. Is he blind to reality, or is this new relationship the real deal?

The Jenkins Family

Naive, sheltered Alyssa has lived her life under the strict thumb of her mother, Miriam. Will she be willing to ruin someone else's life to get the love and affection she's always desperately craved?

The Nelle Family

Quiet and reclusive, only a few Sims in town really know the Nelle family, but it doesn't take a genius to notice that something isn't quite right with them.

The Waltzman Family

Ever the partier, Wesley finally grew up and changed his outlook on life, but this has left him a little over protective of his sister, Wilma. Will he ruin her chances at happiness? And will he find love despite his ties to another?

Heartbroken for years, Wilma has finally gotten over her first love… or has she? She just met Donovan, but will her wandering eye lead her to her family's demise?

Four strangers living under one roof and a fresh divorce. Can Walda and Walter Waltzman get along after their divorce, or will they disrupt the perfect harmony Ines and Fernando Ermírio de Moraes have enjoyed for decades?

______________________________________________________________

Gaudy Shore features 12 playable households, 20 community lots, 3 apartment buildings, and 10 empty houses all built by me , except for Cafe Petit, a lot bin cafe (I like to think of it as a chain). Terrain also made by me. The hood comes with its own unique townies and strays; a few townies even own and work at some of the business around town!

This hood is not CC free but it isn't a lot

CC that I didn't use a lot of and the hood is fine without:

Wire Fencing by Cyclonesue on TSR

Stair Wall Fix by JRW on MTS

Photos & Plaques Hide with Walls Down by Numenor on MTS I used A LOT OF PICTURES taken with the career reward camera and the walls are very cluttered with photos, so I do recommend this mod.

Diagonal 3t2 Bungalow Windows by Nysha on MTS

Natural De Fences by Rosebine on MTS

CEP by Numenor on MTS

CC that will alter the hood significantly:

Bespoke Build Set by Bespoke on MTS

Shiftable Everything by Lamare on MTS

______________________________________________________________

I've been working on this hood on and off for a long time now, and I'm so happy that it's finally finished. It is definitely a labor of love and I hope you enjoy it <3 While Gaudy Shore was originally intended to be a subhood to complement Pleasantview, there are no ties to PV at all and can be played on its own. Please make sure to check out all the story images I included, I had a lot of fun taking them! For those adding the hood as a subhood, José, Michelle, and the Waltzman kids have which apartments they are supposed to be in at the end of their bios. And for the retirement home, I left it as a normal residential lot, but can also be converted into an apartment lot, or you can maybe use dorm doors, or mods to set each apartment to the correct Sim.

I have also gone through every Sim to set their intended names across all languages, so if your game is not in English, the Sims should still have the names I gave them!

Thank you to everyone that helped me along the way and play tested the hood for me, I really appreciate you <3

Download Mainhood || Mediafire Box

Download Subhood || Mediafire Box

If the names got scrambled, you can use this program from MTS to fix them, it's really easy! Can also be used to fix any other neighborhoods that get messed up :)

Please let me know if the subhood version works as intended and does not yeet itself out of the game, test on a testhood!

[gumballavocadoharry]

Stumbling in: Brother Harry:

October wind fluffed your hair the minute you felt the cool evening chill of fall shore through your skin. The taxi watched you tightrope walk up on the little brick pathway from the garage to the front porch glimmering a little shine from the overhead porch light. It was a little lantern for you after being stuck in a claustrophobic car, suckling in vomit and head spins; blurry lights radiating through the window, the mucky dew smell of London at night sent a shiver of isolation and adventure up to your spine, feeling the brisk euphoria of feeling "grown up."

You waved the taxi off, watching it slowly and quietly pull out from the driveway and gain its momentum back in the main street. Standing there for a while looking and taking in all the shadows of the picture painting houses on the block. It was so quiet, jaded with emptiness and complete privacy outside. A nocturnal poloroid moment for you; alone, unnoticed, but shady. Street lights sent spotlights in front of them; spaced so pristine and perfect, that somehow you went unseen. No one could see or hear you. That was until you thought slowly opening the front door would be the same way. But in every household, there's always one person who's either halfway asleep or fully awake.

Harry. Your brother.

"Where were you?" His voice, filled with silent rage and sternness. His green eyes seemed to penetrate through you like it was a stranger that had appeared in his presence, not his younger sister. "I was out.... I'm sorry I'm late, I lost track of time-"

"I was worried sick! You didn't call or text- not so much as a voicemail that said: "Hey, it's yn, I'm sorry I'm late." Nothing." A warm flush poured through your cheeks, looking down at the little wood floor that sported dark blotches over them. You could feel Harry stepping closer to you, eventually feeling his finger lift your chin to his face. His eyes were scanning something deeper, you could tell....no matter how hard you wanted to focus and force yourself to identify what he was looking for, you couldn't.

"You've been drinking?" You furrowed your eyebrows, scoffing a huffed giggle, "Are you serious? No." Now Harry's eyebrows were furrowed. "Yes you were! Yn-" Harry pushed himself away from you to collect his composure. His temper was blaring, and if scared you..... enough for shaky inaudible breaths to echo from you and your legs to dart you from the front door and upstairs to the bathroom. You ejected whatever was running through your stomach with the beers you had before flushing the toilet and dragging yourself to your bedroom.

A ping whiffed through you, snaking through up to your lungs. It shot faster upon your brother's creaky steps on the stairs. Lights were dim, your head; empty and pounding and Harry's quiet peek into your bedroom with dreary eyes and a silent disappointment....you knew he was.

You could make out the shadow of door closing behind Harry as his silhouette dissolved from the hallway.

Dust bunnies tickled your nose, the glow of the morning sun shimmered through the window. The headache seemed to fade and bitter aftertaste of Bass Ale simmered away. Breakfast crept through the crack under the door; the thick smog of muffins clouded through your room. A tense of happy came over you thinking of fluffy dough that would float and melt on your tongue. But, realization of Harry being the only other in the house, interrupted the euphoric thought.

The clock was striking to nine. You couldn't put off breakfast any longer; loud roars of your stomach became intolerable. You changed out of your clothes from last night, donning fresh new ones before stepping down the stairs. Shame splashed onto you, seeing the back of Harry at the stove, cooking breakfast for you and him. After everything, he's still doing this for me..... You thought. You took one step closer, then another, then another...until there you were.....only a few steps away from him. He clicked the stove off, turned to you and then back to the muffins. "Breakfast is ready," he set them on the stove before going into the living room. The flicker of last night haunted you like a ghost swimming around your mind.

Those feet planted on the wood, back to back, shoulder to shoulder against the door, and those angry lasering eyes that bore into you like the sun at its angriest. You didn't know what to say... Harry was sitting in the rocking chair, reading through his text messages and you catching a glimpse from coming through the doorway.

Yn where are you?

Pick up!

Why aren't you answering your calls? I'm really worried about you!!! I've been driving for hours and....

Harry looked up to you, feeling your presence in his space. "Yes?..." You came around to Harry's front and ducked yourself into hug. "I'm sorry....I'm really sorry Harry.....I shouldn't have come home so late.."

Back was bare and drafty, until Harry's soft hands cupped themselves around your body. "Why were you drunk yn?" You pulled away, letting tears trickle down your cheeks. "I don't know....I had a few drinks and I guess I lost count." Harry shook his head, "Yn...."

"I just wanted a good time!" You blurted. Harry looked at you, his eyes softening, "There is no 'good time' in getting drunk. You lose complete control of your senses and that's very dangerous. Anything and anyone could've hurt you......and I wouldn't be there...no one would've been there yn. That's why I was so upset.. I'm very protective of you and if anything ever happened...I just don't know what I'd do." You swallowed, biting your lip, allowing the lecture to twist inside you, knowing your brother was right. You picked the thin lip skin with your teeth, nervously questioning what Harry was going to do.

"Come here yn," you fell into his arms again, "I love you very much....very much," the sweet whisper warmed you.

"Don't ever forget that." Harry squeezed tighter. The room was filled with the quiet silence of breathing and heartbeats. You didn't say it out loud, but internally...you promised Harry, you truly would never forget just how much you were loved.

[guardian-of-da-gay]

Left for Dead

Read on Ao3

For Whumptober 2024 Prompt 14: Left for Dead

tw for depression, suicidal thoughts, assault, theft, injury

Knuckles’ people had been searching for the Master Emerald for hundreds of years.  Hundreds of years of war and death and suffering.  War that had claimed all of his tribe until only he remained.

And he had the gall to lose hope.

Knuckles trudged through the desert sand, feeling miserable and hot and ashamed of himself for complaining.  He had started this particular leg of his quest with such enthusiasm.  It had seemed so promising: legends of a huge green gem hidden deep in the desert.   The stories specifically said that it was ‘hidden’.  When he found there was supposedly a tribe of owls living in the desert too, it seemed like he had finally found his quarry.

Knowing there would be next to nothing to forage, he’d stocked up before leaving.  He acquired some pale wrappings to cover himself from the harsh sun.  Gathered dry foods that would keep well and containers for water.  He set out carrying enough for a week’s journey.

It took two weeks.

He learned much in those two weeks.  He learned it was best to travel by night and dig burrows deep in the sand during the day.  He learned if he dug deep enough he might find water.  And he learned that anything edible that crossed his path, be it cactus or insect or snake, needed to be eaten… but with caution.

When he saw the stone cliffs in the distance, his only thought was that he might find a shady resting place that he wouldn’t have to dig himself.  Then he entered the canyon and found what could only be the desert’s green gem.  It wasn’t the Master Emerald.  It was a lush oasis.

Knuckles immediately drank his fill of water.  He was so happy to wash the sand from his mouth that he flung himself out into the pool.  He floated on his back, staring up at the moon, until his skin began to prune.  Then he trudged back onto land and carefully perused the little trees and shrubs that dotted the green patch.  He ate his fill of what fruits and nuts he could vaguely identify as edible.

It was hard to be glum when his belly was finally full, but without the pressing need to survive, Knuckles’ thoughts caught up with him.  Namely, what he should do next.

Knuckles sat on the shore of the oasis’ great pool and looked out into the distance where he could see towering sand dunes.  In the dark, the moon didn’t quite illuminate the distant sands so they loomed like shadows against the starry night.

The next logical step was to gather supplies–more this time–and then turn around and go back the way he came.  But he was so tired.  This failure was the newest among many and not the first time he’d nearly perished for naught.

At least if he died, he’d be able to rejoin his people.  

It was a thought he’d had many times.  Every time he went into battle, was trapped, attacked, or betrayed, faced starvation or pain or hatred, he always reminded himself that if he was killed then at least he would rejoin his tribe on the great battleground in the sky.  But still, he soldiered on.  He was the last of his people, who would find the Master Emerald if not him?  So no matter what the universe threw at him, he picked himself up and kept going.

And that’s just what he did.

He started by gathering supplies.  He climbed the stubby trees and picked their seeds.  The fruits he left, they wouldn’t keep long in the heat and might spoil the rest of his rations.  He filled his water pouches.  Unlike his rucksack, he could not overfill the pouches.  He would leave the oasis with as much water as he’d started his journey with (which hadn’t been enough).  He would simply have to commit himself to stretching them as long as possible and take any opportunity to hunt for more along the way.

During the day he slept.  At dusk, he set out once more.  He didn’t know where he might next hunt for the Master Emerald, but that didn’t matter.  His goal now was simply to get out of this desert alive.

He followed his footprints back.  Some of the burrows he had dug still stood and he used them as shelter during the day.  On the second day the footprints became fainter.  The subtle winds shifted the sands just enough to obscure his steps.  On the third day, he lost his trail several times.  He hiked up dunes to look at the leeward side and was able to find his tracks a few times this way, but it took longer.  He hadn’t made good time by the end of the day.  By the fourth day his tracks were gone entirely.  He could only follow the stars and hope the desert’s edge was near.

He wasn’t taking the exact route back, this much was obvious when he saw the outcrop in the distance.  The towering stones reminded him of the place where he had found the oasis and so he headed in that direction, feeling hopeful that he might at least extend his rations a few more days.

His path led him down the center of a stone canyon.  The winds had carved strange shapes from the rock and the moon threw odd shadows.  Knuckles had seen no people or large predators since he began his journey.  The worst to fear here were snakes.  As long as he kept clear of their hiding places he had nothing to fear.  As he walked, he listened only for the sounds of running water.  He sniffed the breeze for any trace of greenery.  He found none, but pressed on.  The oasis had been hidden, any other sanctuaries might be as well.

He didn’t know how long he had wandered when the quills on the back of his neck stood up.  He’d heard something on the cliffs overhead.  Something big.

Knuckles held up his fists and backed away, trying to get a look at what was above him.  He should have minded what was behind him.

The next thing he knew he was on the ground.  Something stood on his back.  Sharp claws pulled at his bag.  His supplies!  Panic caused his quills to flare and his attacker jumped back.  For a moment, the canyon was illuminated.

Knuckles looked up only to recoil in horror.  Small, curved beaks sat below huge, black eyes, resting in round, feathered faces.  Owls.  But… not the owl warriors he’d known.  They wore no armor and they were smaller, just a little bigger than him in body, but with such long legs they towered over him.

His glow faded and the flap of wings cut the air.  The light that had illuminated them had also left him seeing stars.  He swung wildly and hit nothing.  He drew on his power and red sparks arced across his fist.  His next strike delivered a glancing blow, the owl staggered and then used those long legs to dart out of range.

Claws snatched at his rucksack.  With one powerful wingbeat he was lifted off the ground.  In a moment, the canyon was below him.  The owl flung him and the rucksack strap snapped.  Knuckles hit the canyon wall.  He rolled down a few feet before he struck out with a fist and caught himself on his spurs.

The owls closed in.

Knuckles kicked off the cliff with enough stretch to shatter the stone behind him.  The rubble and burst of dust sent the birds scattering.  Knuckles spread his quills and glided away.  The desert wind caught him and his hopes lifted as the canyon fell away behind him.  But of course, he could not fly like an owl could.

He was hit from above and then from the side.  The flurry of wings buffeted him and kept him airborne. Claws raked his side as they went for one of his waterskins.  Knuckles struggled, trying to pull the claws away but keep the pouch.   The second owl grabbed him around the middle and they both pulled.  Knuckles was ripped away from his water pouch.

Knuckles struggled, flipping onto his back in midair so he could punch.  But the owl merely straightened it's stupidly long legs and tucked in its wings.  They began to fall.  Knuckles grabbed at the claws around his middle and bucked and heaved.  The claws merely tightened and he felt the talons pierce skin.  He screamed.

His cry was cut short as he hit the ground.  The owl’s weight drove all the air out of him and he realized with swift panic that he couldn’t inhale.  Then they all descended on him.

One raked its claws over him to take his second waterskin.  Knuckles feebly tried to cover it.  Another owl grabbed his arm, hooking its claws into him.  It pulled away so sharply he thought the flesh would be torn from bone.  He lost his second waterskin.  Claws cut all over him, searching for more supplies and ripping through the thin cloth he’d used to protect himself from the sun.  It was no protection from owl claws!  With the owl on top of him, he couldn’t even curl into a ball for defense..

Darkness began to infringe on his vision.  It had nothing to do with the night though.  He couldn’t breathe.  He was bleeding from a dozen places.  The world began to slide away.

The last thing he felt was weightlessness.  The owl lifted him up only to toss away like some worthless, used-up thing.  Knuckles hit the ground and rolled across the sands.  He gasped for air and choked on sand.  He did not see the owls depart, but he heard their wings flapping away and knew he would be hearing that sound in his nightmares for weeks to come.

***

Knuckles was almost surprised to wake up again.  He tried to move and groaned in pain.  Every part of him that wasn’t cut was bruised.  He cracked his eyes open to see the lavender sky.  The sun would rise soon.  He needed to find shelter.  He needed to find water.  He needed to find food.

He lay there instead.

The sky grew brighter and brighter.  He kept thinking that he should get up and find someplace safe and cool to rest for the day.  To regroup his strength.  But… What if he didn’t?  What if he just lay there and let the sun scorch him into nothing?  No one would notice.  No one would care.

Knuckles stared up and watched the sky grow lighter and lighter.  He was just so tired.  And what was left for him to keep fighting for?  He couldn’t survive another two weeks to get out of this place.  He’d hardly survived the initial journey and he’d had supplies!  Maybe it would be better to just lay here.  Let the desert take him.

If he died here, at least he’d be with his tribe again.

But… If Knuckles died here then that meant his people had failed.  Hundreds of years of struggle only to fall short because Knuckles wasn’t strong enough to pick himself up again!  How could he face his father on the great battlefield in the sky if he gave up?  His father hadn’t given up.  None of them had.  They had all died for the Master Emerald–what right did Knuckles have to give up?

They hadn’t left him behind just so he could choose to die.

Knuckles rolled over.  He was in a fair bit of pain, but he wasn’t bleeding anymore.  He could go on.  He would go on.  He picked himself up and kept going.

[hawkerights]

TAV (WHIMSY) X ASTARION

Spoilers: Moonrise Towers Act 2. Interpretation of the confession scene after the encounter with Araj. PG13. Angsty drabble because I've been obsessed w/ them for years

   The gloom of Moonrise Towers lingered in the distance. What a glum, horrific visit that the party had to swallow- right upon the clutches of their enemies, and yet walking among the other followers of the Absolute as if it were as natural as rain. Every step in front of the other that Whimsy took of late felt heavy- every second was a choice she wasn't sure she was supposed to be making. And to make matters worse, it felt like they were no closer to destroying Ketheric Thorm whatsoever. 

   There was a bit of hope there at camp the night they celebrated with the Groove. But all of that seemed like a distant, foolish memory. A light snuffed out by the uncertainty of it all. By the despair of finding those same hopeful people trapped in the gloom of Moonrise. Somehow, Whimsy felt responsible for their fates.

   All this time, she did a decent job of keeping her nerves bottled, contained- but this? It was beginning to be too much. She was in over her head and the pressure was rising, searing- shaking in her chest and rattling her ribs.

   Okay, she thought. Everything was fine, for now. She was here, safe at camp. The danger and them had enough distance. Whimsy could cleanse the fear from her bones if but for a moment- she could give the others a peace of mind, and in doing so give some to herself. Like she always did. Just- pick up her instrument and let the sound waft into camp to lull her friends to a restful evening. So why was it so hard?

   The tiefling found herself on the edge of the shoreline, letting the water lap across the bottom of her boots. The wind was fell and cold, yet still a welcome feeling on her skin. She closed her eyes, moving her fingers towards her strings and took a deep breath.

   “There you are- I was looking for you.” Called a voice from behind.

   Whimsy let out a frightened yelp, dropping her lute as she turned to the sound, unable to stop herself from reacting before the realization of familiarity settled. It was Astarion, her fair-faced lover, who stopped in his tracks upon Whimsy’s reaction. He seemed to have a look of bewilderment that curled into amusement at the sight of an easily startled hero.

   “Well come now, I know I’m good at sneaking up on people but I wasn’t even trying that time,” He mused, crossing his arms. The vampire stood slightly overlooking her, upon the ledge of the path that came down to the shore. 

   Astarion watched as Whimsy sighed and retrieved her harp, turning to him with a frown, though relieved it was just him. It was a bit unlike her, she usually greeted him with a smile or something more, but she clearly wasn’t expecting anyone to bother her again for the evening.

   “Sorry, I just wasn’t listening for anyone. Uh, did you need something?” Whimsy asked, but Astarion wasn’t focusing on the stammer in her words.

   “I just wanted to thank you. For earlier.”

   The bard rose a brow, placing her instrument against a larger rock. “You’re…welcome?” 

   “It was for what you said- while I was before that vile drow.” Astarion sneered, the mere reckon of her on his lips was enough to recall his detest. He could recollect the smell of her putrid blood trapped behind cold, darkwater skin.

  And of course, how could Whimsy forget. Araj’Oblodra, a potions master who was trading in Moonrise Towers. They ran into her after their meeting with Ketheric Thorm. At first, she seemed like any other shady trader who had no regard for the company they kept if only it meant business. It mattered not to Whimsy- if Araj were to stay around when the time to invade Moonrise came, she would fall with all the rest. Otherwise, she was free to slink back to whatever rank shadow she emerged from.

   It only became personal when Araj demanded that Astarion sank his teeth into her wimbly, toxic neck at her pleasure. Perhaps it was a bit embarrassing in retrospect, but Whimsy had gotten a tad possessive in the moment. Astarion had pulled Whimsy to the side, to beg her not to bid him do this. Much to his surprise, Whimsy told Araj where to stick her demands before declaring Astarion off limits. They spoke not of it again until this moment, but Whimsy hadn’t considered it worthy of gratitude.

    Whimsy nodded, having eased a bit. “Well sure, she was wretched. Pissant sort.”

   She would usually get a chuckle out of Astarion with her colorful vocabulary, but he hopped from his ledge and moved closer to her instead. “It’s just- I spent two hundred years, using my body to lure pretty things back for my Master. What I wanted, how I felt about what I was doing…It never mattered.”

   Whimsy lowered her head in thought. With everything that was happening, she hadn’t considered how it would have affected Astarion. No- she didn’t feel as though she would have needed too. In the moment, he said ‘no’. That had been enough, and it would have always been. Whimsy was a bit surprised in the moment that he did not want to feast upon a willing victim, but to be quite honest- the way Araj only wanted Astarion’s bite for thrills bothered her. She wouldn’t have been happy even if Astarion obliged her.

   When Astarion gently lifted her chin, Whimsy looked up at him softly. Her eyes were wide with anticipation at his next words, though there was a pang of hurt in her heart for what he was sharing with her. “You could have asked me to do the same- to throw myself at her, and what I wanted be damned. But you didn’t. And I’m grateful.”

   The tiefling frowned, pushing his hand away slowly. She turned away from him, her eyes lurking towards the foggy horizon past the water. “You don’t need to thank me for something like that. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

   Although perplexed by her reaction, Astarion shifted beside her. “A novel concept, I’d admit. And a little intimidating.”

   There was some silence, as Whimsy said nothing. Her eyes wandered to him for a moment when he moved to her left, mimicking her direction towards the lake. Astarion, unsure of the air between them, pushed on. He wanted her to know how he felt, what it meant, and she was being unusually unresponsive to his affection. Afterall, he was trying to give her a token of appreciation. He was trying to connect.

   “It would have been easy to bite her. To just go along with what I was being told to do,” Astarion started again, though this time with a bit more vulnerability in his voice. “A moment of disgust to force myself through- and then, I could have carried on, just like before.”

   He didn’t look at her for a moment- perhaps it was out of shame. He tensed, hugging himself. The thought had crossed him again, filling him with a regret for the centuries he spent sleeping with countless targets against his will- names all forgotten and faces ablur. A night of pleasure, then he would lead them to their doom. It had been so long…further back than he could even recall anymore, that he had someone on his side.

   “So why sleep with me, then? Did you think you’d get something out of that, too?” Whimsy said through her teeth, her voice faltering but terse. 

   Astarion whipped his head to look at her, finding Whimsy struggling to hold back hot tears. Her face was on fire and her gut was in her chest. Everything was culminating in her head and this was enough to tip her over the edge. Sure, perhaps their relationship had always been somewhat transactional- it was fun, exciting in the beginning. The sneaking off, the sweet nothings- dancing around the idea of anything serious and just enjoying one another. But that began to change the moment Astarion dared to play with words “I love you”.

She...she couldn't get it out of her head after that. And anything else felt like rejection.

   “Whimsy-” Astarion began with a jovial, “surely-your-joking” tone- which was his first mistake.

   “Don’t “Whimsy”, me. Tell me the truth. Am I just another moment of disgust?”

   In a second, Astarion’s walls had erected themselves. His expression went sour as he looked down at her, his eyes rolled at her outburst. “I needed protection, of course. People don’t trust vampires- perhaps understandably- so I needed to get someone on my side.” He scoffed. “And seducing you was easy, frankly.”

   Of course. How could she be so stupid? She had fallen harder than she meant to. It was just a game for him, to gain some advantage. Whimsy went quiet, a sickness seeping in. Without meaning too, Gale crossed her mind. His easy nature, the way he made her feel safe. It was different with him. She longed for that understanding and safety with Astarion, enough to pull away from Gale at every turn despite an unspoken something between them.

   Perhaps it had all been a waste of her time. But now, maybe she could finally be sure. Though even as she turned to leave, Astarion grabbed her wrist.

   Little did Whimsy know that the regret of his words bittered on his tongue the moment they left his wretched lips. He didn’t mean to spurn her, it wasn’t his intention of coming. “Wait. I wasn’t finished. Yes, I had selfish motives. I was just doing the only thing I knew how. So imagine how…how stupid I felt when I started to feel something for you.”

   He could see the tears beating down Whimsy’s face, even as her back was turned to him. She didn’t force his grip away, but neither could she face him.

  Astarion continued, trying not to sound as desperate on the outside as he surely was within. “Trust me, Whimsy. I wasn’t happy about it. You- you complicated everything. I didn’t see it coming- I didn’t see you coming. I didn’t know I could have something like this before. And yet…”

   Whimsy turned around, her fiery eyes gleamed with the tears caught on the surface of them. “I love you,” she whispered- it was sudden, reactive, but there was no going back. She had to close the distance between him and her feelings or forever regret it.

   “You do?” Astarion replied, as Whimsy embraced him. 

   He froze, taken by surprise by her sudden hold upon him. When she bore her face into his chest, the warmth of her weeping seeped into his blouse.

   They had held one another times before. Making love, nights of drunken messes. But mostly, there were only the awkward goodnights, or childish teasing. They fronted and tried to play it cool, affection only reserved for nights of passion. But this was different- this was comfort.

   Astarion’s fingers quaked. His body was so unsure, but his mind wanted something else. Slowly, he slipped his fingers around her back before reciprocating her tight embrace. Now that he was here, it felt impossible to want to let go. His knuckles went white as he gripped her clothes, rocking her back and forth. Gods, it was unlike anything he’d felt in longer than he knew.

   Then, a pang of something in his chest. Something adjacent to uncertainty- life grief that had yet to come to pass. How could this possibly last for a mere moment? How could the future look so unrecognizable for the first time? Whimsy’s voice brought him back to reality for a moment.

   “...What?” Astarion asked, having lost the moment to his thoughts.

   “Can I kiss you?” She asked again. 

   Astarion, still embracing her tightly, caressed the side of her face. He leaned into her and shared a moment of genuine warmth. Just enough to let her pluck at his lips with hers, before pulling away. They paused, sharing a deep glance and kissed again, deeply. This time, however, neither yearned for something more at the end. At last, it seemed to be enough. He was enough. She was enough.

   “You’re full of surprises,” Astarion said, through a nervous laugh. “Honestly, I have no idea what we're doing, or what comes next.” He looked down at her, carefully adjusting strands of her hair. 

   “But this? This is nice.”