#swim wear gown

[kaerinio]

smth smth, dany is 100% someone who, upon seeing an inviting body of water, will begin stripping so she can plunge right in!

[othernaut]

When I was a kid (and early teen, really), I had a screaming case of maladaptive daydreaming. I so disliked living in the actual world that dissociation felt more true and real than being in my body, in my school, in my home. It got to the point that being asked to be present felt more like dissociation than daydreaming did, and being a little kid with no language for what I was experiencing, I took my imaginary landscape to have almost mystical significance. As a reward for living through another day, I would spend hours every night vacationing in my daydream. I spent so much time there, made it so real and continuous, that it felt like it would continue without me in much the same way that, well, anyplace I hadn't visited in a while would still be standing whenever I went back.

Of course, as I grew older, I found other ways to dissociate. The benefit of choice offered to teenagers meant I could spend those dreamlike hours in music, or video games, or books of my own choosing. Little by little, I slid away from my imaginary world - and this, somehow, made the pain I was trying to escape that much more acute and omnipresent. I had forgotten the easy fantasy I could click into whenever I was driven to isolation or screamed at for hours. I had allowed myself the awful privilege of fully experiencing each and every mote of agony the world could produce, and it did not do me any favors.

As an adult, I, too, developed insomnia. It's intermittent, but it's brutal when it happens. I don't respond very well to drugs - my brain ecology will happily, miserably stay awake through everything that both over-the-counter and prescription sleep aids will try to do to me. Because this stupid disease comes and goes whenever it pleases, I haven't been able to schedule a sleep study. Like a lot of things, insomnia has felt like something I've just had to struggle through, one of many minor calamities that define existence as an adult human. Except...

When laying in bed, ruefully staring up at the ceiling, I discovered that I can go back to my daydream just as easily as I could when I was a kid. It's different now, but different in the way that anything would be if left fallow for thirty years. It's just as vibrant and real as it was so long ago; I've lost none of my power to picture and experience that imaginary landscape, and at this point, I don't think I ever will. And going back there, to the geode cities and clockwork towers I built from whimsy and chance, to where I can look just how I want, say just what I mean, and don't even have to touch the ground if I don't want to - it puts me to sleep in minutes.

Love and imagination are real powers, just like they told you at the start, and any time you start to doubt it, remember how they comfort you in the dark, in desperation, when nothing else will.

soporific

[speakercrab666]

they’re my fucking dorsal fins you cunt.

[p0orbaby]

Could you write something about reader having surgery? Leah worrying about her & getting super stressed out x

-

Leah’s pacing. Of course she is. She’s wearing the trainers that squeak on the hospital floor, the ones you begged her to throw away three months ago. “They’ve got character,” she said then, like that was a reasonable argument for keeping footwear that sounded like an off-brand comedy gag every time she took a step. Now, the sound feels like a metronome for her anxiety.

She’s also muttering under her breath, something about waiting rooms being designed to drive people mad. “Why is there always a random fish tank?” she asks no one in particular, gesturing at the gurgling monstrosity in the corner. “Like, is that meant to be calming? Watching a clownfish swim into a plastic castle?”

Kim, who you bullied into babysitting Leah while you’re in surgery, hums noncommittally and sips her tea. It’s the worst thing she could’ve done because it prompts Leah to snap, “You’re too calm. Why are you so calm?”

“Because it’s a routine procedure,” Kim replies, her tone so even it borders on condescending. “She’ll be fine, Leah”

But Leah doesn’t look convinced. She crosses her arms, leans against the wall, then decides against it and resumes pacing. “Routine doesn’t mean risk-free,” she mutters. “What if they mix up her file with someone else’s? What if they give her a kidney transplant instead of fixing her knee?”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” Kim asks, barely suppressing a laugh.

Leah whirls around. “Anything’s possible, Kim. Hospitals are chaos. I’ve read articles”

Kim just shakes her head and goes back to scrolling her phone, clearly regretting agreeing to this.

Leah’s still fidgeting when the surgeon finally appears. The man is smiling, calm and professional, but she doesn’t let her guard down. Not even when he says, “The operation went smoothly. She’s in recovery now”

“Define smoothly,” Leah demands, squinting at him like he’s lying. “No complications? No close calls? You didn’t drop anything inside her, did you?”

“Leah!” Kim hisses, mortified.

The surgeon, to his credit, only blinks. “She’s fine,” he repeats, clearly accustomed to this brand of hysteria. “You can see her shortly”

Leah doesn’t wait. She marches down the hall like she’s storming the pitch, the squeaking of her trainers echoing behind her.

When she reaches your room, you’re half-conscious, propped up in bed with a silly-looking hospital gown that does nothing for your dignity. Your eyes flutter open at the sound of her trainers, and you manage a groggy smile.

“You’re here,” you mumble, your voice sluggish from the anaesthetic.

“Of course I’m here,” Leah says, pulling a chair up to your bedside. “How do you feel? Do you need water? Ice? A lawyer in case something went wrong?”

You blink at her, too out of it to process her rambling. “I think they gave me morphine. I feel amazing”

Leah exhales sharply, her hands twitching like she wants to touch you but isn’t sure where. “Good. That’s good. You look… fine. A bit pale. But fine”

“Thanks,” you slur. “You look sexy”

She finally smiles, though it’s small and a little wobbly. “You scared the hell out of me, you know”

You try to reach for her hand but miss by a mile. “Sorry. Love you”

Her expression softens, and she takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “Love you too. Just… don’t ever make me do this again, yeah?”

“No promises,” you mumble, already drifting back to sleep.

Leah stays by your side the entire time, even when the nurse comes in and politely asks her to stop squeaking her trainers against the floor.

[sarahisslytherin]

𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐌 || 𝐁.𝐁.

summary: you’ve been receiving love letters from a secret admirer and you’re desperate to reveal his identity. contains: benedict being fucking adorable, fluff n’ angst! a/n: first part of this multi-chapter fic.

It was a day like any other. You woke to the humming of the maid, the hum-drum of life about the house. You rubbed sleep from your eyes as you reluctantly got out of bed. You selected your gown for the day after scouring through your wardrobe of various shades of pastel. You bid good morning to the servants as you made your way downstairs and joined your family for breakfast. There your mother urgently reminded you (as if you had forgotten from one day to the next) the importance that you find yourself a suitor, someone of good rank.

But you barely had any mind to pay her; for it was elsewhere, with another. You cut your breakfast short, unable to bear any more talk of suitors and marriage and a life without love. You were buttoning your coat when an angel descended the staircase. Well, it wasn’t truly an angel; only your lady’s maid, but the letter she held in her hand couldn’t have been any more sacred to you. She passed it to you and your eyes met hers, the looks you exchanged almost like those of two best friends trading gossip, or in this case, your own little secret.

You slipped the sealed envelope into your coat pocket before finally stepping out the door and down the front steps. Outside, London was alive and full of the colors of spring. Though you could’ve walked the streets for hours on end, you opted to head straight to the park and sat down on the nearest bench. You sifted through your pocket, pulling the envelope out. You couldn’t help noting that it smelled of lavender and cinnamon as you gently broke the seal. There, the words you had been waiting anxiously to read.

Dearest,

I dreamt of you last night. I dreamt of those eyes so deep I was tempted to swim in them. Of that laugh so melodious I was tempted to turn it into a symphony. Of the lips so sweet I was tempted to kiss them. Alas, I know not if I shall ever reveal myself to you. I know you must be dying to figure me out. But you must understand I couldn’t bear to be rejected by you. You drive me mad! When I am awake, you occupy my every thought, and when I sleep you visit me in dreams! I am a tormented man, but oh, how smitten I am with my torment! I clutch it to my chest and carry it with me wherever I go. How could I not? When it was you who gave it to me. Such a state of delirium is the one you have driven me to, simply by existing. Anyway, all this to say that I love you and always will. Write to me, my love. I’ll be waiting.

You pressed the piece of paper to your heart, beating faster than ever. You folded the letter back and let it fall into your pocket once more before starting for the Bridgerton house. It took every fiber in you to go on with this written affair for months on end without uttering a word to your good friend Daphne. But you felt it was something too precious, too fragile to speak of; like a creature as easily spooked as it is beautiful. 

This was what you repeated to yourself in your mind when you arrived at the Bridgertons’, and Daphne swore you had a glow about you only people in love wear. 

“Come now, who is it?” she teased as she delicately sipped her tea. “You must tell me!” 

You shook your head with a playful roll of your eyes. “There truly is nothing to tell, Daph. You must believe me.”

“Nonsense!” she poked on. “I wish to know the lucky gentleman who has you so obviously smitten.” It was then that the others entered the parlor. Anthony, with Kate on his arm, and Colin and Benedict following suit. “Fill us in on today’s gossip, sister.” jested Benedict as he lounged on the nearest chaise with his usual happy-go-lucky air. How handsome he looked today, his jet black hair shiny as ever, his grey eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“There’s nothing to share, you busybody.” Daphne scolded him lightly. “Mind your own affairs.” At this, Benedict shot you a cheeky look, one you couldn’t help but return. You wondered if your secret admirer was as handsome as he was, as sweet and boyish.

“Oh!” Daphne exclaimed suddenly. “I forgot to tell you! We are holding a ball this weekend! Isn’t that exciting?” You felt yourself light up at the news. Exciting indeed. Many things can happen at a ball, dances shared and souls intertwined, and perhaps a certain identity revealed.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @holdthegirrrl

[darknight3904]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖈𝖊

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ! ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ / ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Rhaella is now 15, Aemond 14. Also, I've aged Benjicot Blackwood up he is now 16 in this fic.

130 AC

"I do not see why I must dress like this." Rhaella sighs, pulling at her dress, the corset is suffocating her.

"You are nearing the age to be wed. It is important you look your best." Edric says, "Stop fussing"

"I feel like I am being squeezed to death!" She whines as he hooks his arm with hers.

"It is only for the evening. Then, you will be able to wear your normal gowns." Edric says

"You speak so confidently, it is obvious you have never worn something like this." Rhaella groans

Maester Edric chuckles and gestures to his robe and chain.

"Forgive me, I'm not wearing a corset under all this. Although you never know."

Rhaella lets out an unlady like snort as they walk towards the throne room. King Viserys was hosting a ball, he had said it was just to celebrate his own rule, The queen had told her what it truly was. A way to meet suitors, after all she'd need to create an heir for Runestone. Rhaella hated the idea of marriage. She didn't want to leave the Red Keep and take her castle. Why couldn't Gerold rule for her? She wanted to stay here in the Capital with Aemond, swimming and reading until they fell over from exhaustion.

The ball is as grand as anyone could imagine. Lively music played as guests approached the high table to greet their king and his family. Viserys made a point to show Rhaella every eligible man who presented himself to her. Most of them were boring, all complimenting her beauty or here dress, one of them surprised her and had spoken a greeting in High Valyrian. Of course, he couldn't speak anything other than that greeting and she was left disappointed again.

"You remind me of Rhaenrya as a girl. Always quick to dismiss suitors without a second thought." Viserys says as some golden haired Lannister leaves them.

"Well they're all, twats." Rhaella says

"They are of the great houses of Westeros." Viserys says with a chuckle, "Some of them truly are twats though. Especially that last fellow."

Rhaella looks at Aemond who sits near his mother, Heleana on his left and Daeron on his right. If Aegon hadn't been present, Rhaella was sure he'd be the most bored at the table.

"Are there many more?" She whsipered, leaning towards Edric.

"A few, My Lady." He says sympathetically, "Perhaps you might dance with one, the night will go quicker."

"So they ask me boring questions? I'd rather let Sōna eat me." She laughed

"That might be less painful than a dance with some of them. I believe the Baratheon boy is drunker than even Aegon himself tonight." Edric says looking over at a very drunken first cousin of Lord Baratheon . The Lord of Storms End is trying to rouse his relative who is down for the night. At least Aegon's eyes were still open.

"My King." A voice greets, "My Lady."

"Lord Blackwood." Viserys greets

Rhaella turns her head, expecting another old man, or perhaps even an ugly young child who'd rather be playing with toys than greet the King. Instead, she was met with a tall and slim young man, short black hair sat atop his head, messy with curls.

"Lady Rhaella, I heard you claimed Sōna. I have heard tales that she is a marvelous beast, white as the winter snows from Winterfell." Lord Blackwood says

"She is magnificent, My Lord. Truly a marvel to see." Rhaella smiles, its the first compliment she's received all night that's not about her hair or beauty.

"If you ever have a chance, perhaps you can visit Raventree Hall. I'm sure she'd enjoy Blackwood cows as a treat. I'd love to see Dragonfire with my own eyes." He says

"Yes, that would be nice." Rhaella smiles

What an odd man, suggesting she visit his home to feed her dragon cattle. It was surely a different attempt at courting.

"Benjicot Blackwood, he's the young Lord of Raventree. A good match but his feud with the Brackens would drive any sane person mad." Edric says to her as Lord Blackwood goes back to his table.

"He is the only man close to my age in this hall tonight, and the only one who made interesting conversation." Rhaella points out looking at the room filled with older men and children alike.

"He suggested killing cows with your dragon as a form of entertainment." Edric says, looking Rhaella with questions in his eyes.

"It is better than talking of golden lions with the Lannisters." Rhaella says

"You are correct, my Lady." Edric smiles

Aemond could not believe what was happening in front of him. Rhaella, who had been dismissing suitors all night long with rude look or a comment was dancing with one of them. Benjicot Blackwood was twirling her around the floor like they were already wed and getting ready to celebrate for the next three moons.

"You are turning as green as mother's dress, Aemond." Aegon teases

"Ignore him." Heleana advises looking over at Aegon who shoves a bite of food into his mouth.

Rhaella's red and gold gown glitters under the lights of the many candles that light the room. Her silver hair is tied back, showing off how her face has sharpened over the years, baby fat falling away to give way to piercing Valyrian features. Aemond can feel his eye twitching with anger. Truly there was no reason for his current mood, there was no reason to be jealous over a single dance. Perhaps she was just being polite to Lord Blackwood.

It is when she tosses her head back to laugh at something he has said that Aemond cannot take it anymore.

"Mother, I want to leave. Am I dismissed?" He says, looking at his mother.

Queen Alicent lets out a sigh and gives him a nod.

"Straight to your chamber. I don't want you out with Vhagar now." She gives him a look

"Fine." Aemond conceeds, how did she know he was going to try to go for a nightime flight? A mother's intuition perhaps.

Rhaella laughs again as he's leaving. She leans in to whisper something to that idiot Benjicot as his hands are resting on her waist.

How disgusting.

Aemond hopes they both trip and fall face first into the pie that's being served to the guests. Maybe that would teach that barbaric Blackwood a lesson.

Rhaella finds Aemond the next day scowling in his chambers rather than in the training yard with Criston Cole.

"Are you sick?" She asks when she sits at the end of his bed

"I'm fine." Aemond grumbles

"Then why are you not training? Or at least meeting me in the Library like we usually do?" She questions

"I'm tired. Go away." Aemond groans, pulling his blankets over his head.

He had always been one for dramatics.

"You are acting like a spoiled child. What is wrong? Tell me." Rhaella commands, grabbing the covers and ripping them off him.

Aemond lets out a shout of dissaproval when he's exposed to the sunlight hits his eye.

"You haven't even dressed yet?" Rhaella asks looking at his night clothes "It is past noon!"

Rhaella's eyes are caught on Aemond's eye which is not covered by his eye patch. The sapphire that she had heard whispers about in the Keep was mesmerizing. He hadn't let her see his wound since he lost the eye.

"Don't you have somehwhere to be? A dance with Lord Benjicot Blackwood perhaps?" Aemond asked

Was that what all this was about? Surely Aemond wasn't jealous?

"Lord Blackwood is preparing to return to his home today. I do plan to see him off, but not if you are lying here, like some...self pitying...fool." She says

"I'm not a fool." Aemond says

"Then why are you acting like one?" She asks

Aemond suddenly sits up, Sapphire eye catching the bring sunlight that streams into his chamber. He's staring right at her and Rhaella suddenly feels nervous under his gaze.

"You can say goodbye to him, only if you promise to fly on Vhagar with me." He says

"What do you plan to do if I say no? Lock me up?" Rhaella rolls her eyes

"If I have to." Aemond jests

"I'd scream." Rhaella agues

"I'd gag you." Aemond declares

Rhaella huffs a sigh of frustation, Aemond was a wearisome individual today.

"Fine. One flight. But you're not allowed to let me fall off her." She agrees

Truthfully the idea of flying on Vhagar had always terrified her. That large of a beast taking to the sky was mortifying to her.

"Maybe I'll push you off." Aemond says, tone serious.

Rhaella shoots him a look, letting him know his joke has not been well received.

"Maybe I'll push you off and claim her for myself." Rhaella says

"I'd like to see you try." Aemond smirks

Next part

Guys I almost forgot Daeron was like...a thing so I had to mention his existence. Anyway, I love Bloody Ben so I had to give him a little cameo. Also when was HBO going to tell me that he's 12 during the dance? He is a whole child. Anyway, I've aged him up quite a bit here so its not as weird.

Also, whoever made this, they genuinely had me laughing on Pinterest...

Poor kid Aemond...

Comment below to join the taglist. (The taglist is not by chapter, once added, you will remain there unless you ask to be removed.)

Taglist:

@caspianobsessed

@starryhiraeth

@franzelt

@holymusicalmothman

@koobratzy

@schelfinser

@mizuki80

@flusteredmoonn

@sunmigs

@mizuki80

@dramioneforevertilltheend

@fix5idiots @canpillowscry

@aleemendoza2425-blog

@optimistic-but-very-realistic

@vieenr0se

[cheesecakebandit]

More Yandere!Art x Reader thoughts

First fic found here

After the traumatic events that unfolded on you on Halloween night you are in a constant state of anxiety and fear. After the investigation the deranged face painted killer who caused your stress and the death of your “friends” is still on the loose and now knows your name.

You have trouble sleeping at night and start to become sleep deprived. Much like on the night before Halloween you have dream with Art.

Instead of being wed to the mime again in a nightmarish setting you are lying on a dank and broken bed with no sheets or covers just a dirty mattress with a busted headboard. Wearing a long white nightgown that reaches to your ankles you’re in a frightened daze as you recall the wedding ceremony from your nightmare days ago. Around the filthy dark room, dead flowers in vases scattered the room with decaying pedals on the concrete ground. Ripped up moldy stuffed animals sitting on chairs and others broken pieces of furniture. The room was in a disgusting disarray as the air felt colder.

You can’t seem to find your voice and can’t only whimper as you’re frozen in fear. You practically feel glued to the bed and can’t seem to move an inch from the dirty spot. Your terrified tear filled eyes scan the sketchy bedroom.

You scan your arms and upon viewing your hands you felt the whole world stop as you spot the same plastic ring on your finger. You silently sobs to yourself as you can tell what’s about to unfold.

It’s your honeymoon

Your ears are meet with the with the sound of heavy but fast paced footsteps as you look up slowly to see your capture now husband in your view. The same “man” who ruined your life and mutilated innocent people in front of your eyes, is now holding two wine glasses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other as he has his same sinister smile. He approaches the bed and places the two clear glasses to the side as he stares and smiles wildly at you.

You can only whimper as you look him in his dead yet expressive eyes. His same over exaggerated expressions are still put into play as he sits cross cross in front of you on the broken bed. He just stares at you. Just smiling and no motion.

Before you can speak you’re suddenly spooked as he whips his right arm up fast to your face causing you to flinch and sob at his sudden fast movement. It’s a flower, but it appears to be a fake feather one magicians use. You only stare at the red fake flower as he starts to get slightly impatient from your lack of movement.

With a shaky hand you accept his gift. He responds by putting both hands on his chest where his heart would be and gives you a soft loving look. He leans forward to boop your nose, his sudden touch gives you the chills. He puts a finger up to tell you to wait as he reaches over behind you to grab the two wine glasses and the bottle of wine.

He hands you one glass as you had no choice but to accept the seemingly clean glass. With a fake flower in one hand and glass in another you watch in anticipation wondering what he’ll do next. He takes his sweet time tapping and examining the glass bottle before he opens it with a pop. The loud pop makes his eyes widen in responses as he looks at you and silently snickers. After uncorking the top off he brings your glass forward to him as he pours the condiments into the glass and what poured out shocked you.

Instead of red wine, thick dark bloody like liquid spewed from the bottle and into your glass. You started to finally find your voice as he continued to pour the liquid practically overflowing your glass.

“S-sto-“ but before you can finish you notice small movements in the dark red drink and saw what appeared to be small maggots swimming and squirming into your glass.

You make a loud audible groan and cry of discomfort as he ends up spilling the disgusting concoction on your snow white gown. You watch in complete disbelief and horror as the red liquid touches your bare skin and dress with the maggots still moving sporadically all over your lap. Art does nothing but smile in glee as he pours himself a cup before raising it to the sky above his head to prepare a toast for you and him. Still in shock you end up dropping the fake flower he offered you earlier as he clinks his glass to yours. You look up and see the happy clown chug down the freakish drink with no problem. As he finishes his drink, licking his lips and using a part of the bed sheet to dab his face like a napkin before kissing his fingers and raising his hand in the air to signify that he enjoyed the drink.

You felt like gagging as you continued to hold the vile drink in your shaking hand not sure what to do. You felt tears steam down your face as you became frozen again fearing what he’ll do next.

“Please, I’m sorry if I did anything to you. J-J-Just let me….”

He looks at you in your terrified eyes as he gives you a confused look. He reaches for your hand slowly. You felt your throat tighten at the contact. He brings your right hand up to your face and points at the ring on the your finger. The same fake plastic one he gifted to you on Halloween night. He points to it before making a “see?” Like expression to you. You start to shake your head as brings your sweaty hand to his black lips, kissing it tenderly and sweet.

You’re completely broken, was this a dream or real life? Are you really this insane man’s wife? Your head drowned in questions as he pulled your hand forward again putting it behind his head as he leaned closer to you. You pressed your lips tight together knowing he was going in for a kiss. The wine glass in your hand slipped out of your grip now spilling it all over your lap. You don’t even react to the mess as you sealed your eyes shut tight waiting for the messy kiss to impact.

But before you could feel his disgusting lips touch yours. Your ears were met with the sound of beeping. You slowly open your eyes and see that you’re in your bed. The beeping was your alarm clock. You scan the room all around to see if he’s still with you. You shut off the clock.

It was another dream. You felt your heart pound so hard and fast in your chest that it could just pop out. Sweat decorated your skin as it made your night gown stick to you, giving you an uncomfortable feeling. You close your eyes and start to breathe heavily as you roam your stuttering hands around you. You pause and start to feel a familiar hard feeling. You gasp loudly as you look at your right hand to see the same ring on your finger.

This can’t be happening. Please no.

In a fit of rage and frustration you whip the ring off your finger and chuck it far off into the room leaving behind a soft click as it fell from the impact. Feeling defeated you curl up in ball and silently sob knowing this isn’t over.

He’s coming for you.

Might redo my first fic again. Leave me some feedback thx.

[woodle-isbae]

In lust, we trust.

Farleigh.S x Catholic!Reader

Warnings: drinking, religion, little to no dialog, missionary, oral(f receiving), voyeurism, virginity loss, religious guilt, loads of projecting, Oliver hate, Farleigh is super sweet(to reader)🔥

A/N: this is sort of a self indulgence post, big guilty pleasure here🔥🔥/ Guess who posted this a little TOO late 👨🏾‍🦲

Kinktober Masterlist

You sat at the alter , kneeled over with your rosary clumped in your hands. Soft mutters of your prayer filling the empty Cathedral.

"Hail Mary, Full of grace.."

You were too drowned into your prayer to notice the figure that sat near you, waiting for you to Finish.

"-Holy Mary, Mother of God.."

You muttered the Hail Mary, soft breathing snapping you out of your focus, but still ignoring it and continuing.

"-Now and at the hour of our death..-"

"Amen."

You both said in unison, eyes shooting open to be met with your Boyfriend. He was dressed in a sweater and the colorful pants he always wore.

"Oh Farleigh..I didn't see you."

You got up, bowing and doing the sign of the cross before waltzing over to the man who sat with a slight smile. You knew something was off with him, but decided not to pester him about it.

He stood up to greet you with a hug, looming over you with a look of adoration and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

"Well..I do have alot to tell you!"

He chirped and walked with you hand in hand, many people believed you two weren't fit for eachother. He was known for sleeping around and doing drugs, you were a Saint who goes to church everyday and the sweetest soul alive.

That's why when hearing about your relationship, rumors spread about how he wanted to corrupt and ruin you for his own greed and lust. You were loving and understanding, helping him get over his drug use, never even daring to make you uncomfortable or sad from how you loved him.

He drove the both of you to the saltburn estate, having begged you to come just once and meet his family. He chatted about his school life and the things felix told him or has done, getting a reminded from you not to Gossip.

"Well , here we are m'lady!"

He hopped out the car before you, striding all around to open the door for you. You fetched your luggage and followed right after him ,he took you to a room that looked as if it was his, telling you that you will be staying in the room next to his to respect your boundaries.

You got into the floral printed room, knowing that Elspeth doesn't like her rooms like this she must've designed a room just for you, being Farleighs first genuine girlfriend had the whole family at your feet.

You unpacked your bags, enjoying the fresh country and a proper holiday away from friends and family. Farleigh peeping in to remind you that they're going swimming in the pond, they liked to call it their natural pool, telling you it's gonna be hot and wear sunscreen.

You wore a floral patterned one piece bathing suite, throwing on a scarf over your shoulders and sliding on sandels. You went down to the pond , sitting next to Felix and chatting about school and other things until you were interrupted by his friend, Oliver.

It's not that you hated him, but something about him was odd, like he was planning something sinnester but you couldn't tell through his cheery demeanor. You brushed it off and went to the water , floating around until you felt a pair of hands at your waist.

"Boo! Did I scare you?"

"Very funny Farleigh."

You deadpanned at him while he laughed at you, he rested his head on your shoulder and floated around with you. Having a conversation about day to day things and joking around, Elspeth comming around to greet you and reminding you that you need to dress up for tonight's dinner.

You guys finished up swimming and decided to start getting ready for dinner, Elspeth giving you a dark red ankle length lace gown along with a black lace scarf to tie around your shoulders. She remembered.

You got dressed and did your hair into a bun, strolling thought the mansions corridors until the large doors for the dining room, stepping in and finding your seat next to your curly headed boyfriend.

"I love the outfit Babe"

He whispered into your ear ,prepping a soft kiss onto your cheek and keeping a hand on your clothed knee. You glanced around the table, attention looking towards the large doors opening again, This time Oliver stepped in. He made his way towards the empty seat next to you ,since it sat across from felix, you were about to ask Felix something until Oliver cut you off.

"I really like y'dress, suits your body well."

You only stared at him, he gave you a sweet smile but something much deeper rested in those big bug eyes. You only nodded, feeling uncomfortable with him being around, as he was an evil spirit trying to rub onto you. The food arriving shortly, everyone else waiting for you to finish praying over the food before devouring it down. Exusing yourself to your room, finished with your food and ready for bed.

You slipped out of the dress and into a night gown, sitting under your covers with your Bible in hand, soft hymns playing from your recorder. You sang along softly , enjoying the cool night air that slipped in through your window, your thoughts interrupted by the door creeking open.

There stood Oliver, his blue eyes suddenly turned darker. He stood there for a good moment, relising you were staring back at him and threw on a small smile.

"Ah. . .thought this was my room..sorry"

He said before turning around and slamming the door shut, honestly shocked that nobody else woke up at that alone. You decided to ignore it, opting to tell Farleigh in the morning.

Time skip 🥰

You were currently walking with Farleigh to the fields, talking about how weird Vanetia and Ollie were acting during breakfast. You were the first ones to get to the field, getting undressed and sharing a blanket to sunbathe on.

Soon Vanetia and Felix joined, Oliver coming later. You glanced over at Farleigh, whispering what happened to you last night to him, which had him grimacing at just the thought.

"Yeah, he's definitely a weirdo now."

You lightly hit his hand, giggling a bit and telling him that's not nice. You continued discussing other stuff, feeling Olivers piercing gaze on you, getting uncomfortable and throwing over a bikini cover on your hips and laying down on your stomach.

The day activities went on as usual, everyone playing tennis in fancy attire while you kept score, skinny dipping in the pond and hide and seek in the maze.

Tonight was dinner with the Henry's, you wore a dark Blue velvet dress and a silk scarf over your shoulders, your hair done neatly and minimal makeup on. You strolled down the stairs, towards the crowded dinning room and taking a seat Next to Farleigh.

"Saved you a seat"

He murmered out, eyes locked in on the brunette who sat not very far from him, an obvious tension between the two. You only brushed it off, eating the food you were served before everyone left to go to the Living room, chatter filled the wide and nicely decorated room.

You sat next to Vanetia, fanning yourself with a drink in hand, enjoying the evening slightly intoxicated. Your boyfriend giving a brief performance with you cheering him on, the alcohol in your system had caused you to tip toe to him, whispering something about hanging out alone. Needing some quality alone time atleast once this summer.

You didn't know what to say, finding any and every possible way to get some time with him, the whole time you were here his eyes lingered on Felix's mousey friend. You fiddled with the scarf around your shoulders, searching in his eyes for some kind of answer.

"Sure"

He blurted out, walking ahead of you to get to his room, leaving the door open for you to enter in. He patted the empty side of the bed, laying his head in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped around your waist- He didn't even bother to let you change first.

"You look so breath taking in that dress babe...wear it more often."

His words flew into your ears, swirling around for a few seconds and slipping back out. You blushed, knowing the emotions he made you feel were normal- but not this one, it was strange and Degrading, it felt disgusting good .. the warmth in your stomach dropping lower..way lower

"Thank you-"

Your words cut off by his swift kiss, his hand cupping the side of your face as he moved up , placing himself between your legs while you two made out. Something of your had snapped, the vow you've taken to wait until marriage has been long forgotten, an insatiable hunger emerging from you.

Hands clawing to find stability in eachother, his own slipping under the dress and feeling your soft skin. Sounds you've never made before slipped through your lips as he pressed his hips against your own, having you feel exactly how he feels

"Wait- I don't want to ru-"

"Shut up, I want you. So, so bad."

You cut him off, your mind already made up and decided. You both flailed to remove any articles of clothing, continuing your starved kisses on eachothers bodies. You couldn't hold back from what you wanted mose anymore, begging him to work were you needed him most.

He slipped down, leaving a soft trail of kisses down your body only to come face to face with your cunt, instinctively diving in face first.

A foreign euphoria washing through you, gasping at the pure and utter skill he has to have your legs shaking already, making out with your puffy clit and twitching hole.

"Wait- Leigh!"

Your fingers coming down to tug at his curls, hips pushing up to gain more pressure and pleasure, adding on more for your first orgasm on the night. You clenched your eyes shut, keeping his plump and soft lips placed right at your core. Everytime you were near your orgasm, he pulled away- claiming that it helps with your orgasm.

This went on for nearly an hour, continuing his edging on your clit, by this point you've shed a couple of tears from the orgasm denial. Getting fed up with his actions, you pulled him over, straddling his lap.

"Oh my?, really bold!"

He grabbed a wrapper from the bedside drawing, slowly placing it on his girthy cock and lifting you onto his cock. Giving you a breather to get used to the new intrusion, prepping you with soft kisses and words of praise, promising not to hurt you.

You had given him the signal that your ready, he took this as a chance to lay you down on your back and softly move his hips, interlocking his large hand over yours. Your eyes screwed shut, bliss filling all your senses- and his.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, his face buried into the crook of your own, praises falling past his pink lips. The grip on your hips tight as if he would loose you any moment, lost in the moment of eachothers embrace.

The door had opened, Oliver walking in only to stop and stare, unsure of how he should feel in this current moment. Hes gaze was judgemental.Your eyes meeting for a brief moment, his gaze never leaving the two of you- almost allured by the sight. His watchful eyes spurred you on even more, your legs locking around the curly headed man's hips, chasing for your orgasm.

"Oh- Leigh, please!"

You weren't sure exactly what you were begging for, nonetheless it slipped through your lips, along with other things. Oliver stood there for a few more seconds before storming out, muttering something under his breath, but you were too out of to even focus on him.

The string in your core was tightening, threatening to break as Farleigh's fingers slipped down, playing with your clit. He gave you a deep kiss, continuing his harsh yet loving movements, his own orgasm reaching.

"You got this, yeah? Cum for me."

His voice was raspy, whining into your ear, his hips snapping into you with a speed you never knew was possible. He gave a few more sloppy thrusts, halting inside you with a deep groan, biting a mark into your shoulder.

This triggered a reaction in you, clenching around him as you came, shameful sounds coming from your lips and flying around the room. You both layed there, absolutely slumped and sweaty from the warm summer night, catching your breath until Farleigh decided to pull out.

You yelped a bit, foreign to the sudden emptiness that still in you, his fingers creeping up your body to fiddle with the cross that sat around your neck. That's when it dawned on you.

"Oh my..what have I done!?"

Farleigh stared at you, knowing you were filled with panic but decided against saying anything that might worry you even further. You quickly knelt by the bed, muttering a soft prayer, the brunette watching intently- careful not to make a sound.

"I shouldn't have drunk so much.."

You frowned, sitting back on the bed, shifting under the sheets of his bed. You only looked up to him, his face calm and unphased, knowing your commitment to your religion.

"There's a church near, you can confess there.?"

"I guess.."

You knew what you did was wrong, yet you enjoyed every moment, willing to do it again if you could. You only sighed, opting to go with the plan your boyfriend gave, deciding to get some rest in his bed.

You'll talk to Oliver aswell in the morning, but for now- all that sat in your mind was your sweet boyfriend.

[writingsofwesteros]

Aemond and his MILF, lady tyrell.

They had been betrothed after her older husband died in a hunting incident, his grandsire finding it as an opportunity to restrength bonds with the reach. He though his betrothed would be an upset of their union, she was a few years younger then his mother and already had two little babes of her own. But she was just as excited or more than him for their marriage, having been married to an older man herself, she craved the touches and affection of a younger man. She would giggle at his slightly flushed after walking in on her feeding her youngest babe. For such a sophisticated prince, he always seemed a bit nervous when he’d break fast with her, his lady purposely wearing tight gowns and offering to fed him the delicious fruits of the reach while he held her sleeping babe. His pretty betrothed loved inviting him to the bathing pools of Highgarden, teasing him by swimming nude in the pool while he stared at the delicious sight of the water glistening on fat breast and full hips. It wouldn’t be long until the prince becomes responsive to her advances; suckling at her breast, groping her curves, and playing with her in the bathing pools. He thought he had been more than prepared for their wedding night but he found himself to be at the mercy of her touches and pleasures. His lady-wife had him stuck and sprawled outin their bed as she bounced on his cock and sucked him off like the whore from silk street. After their copious amounts of fucking, the lady of Highgarden would have another little babe in her arm, a little silver-head babe girl.

Aemond and his MILFS ! We love to see it !

Oh poor sweet virgin Prince is rocked by her with ease; her hands stroking up and down his bare, muscular arms as she bounces. Those fat breasts he had drooled over for so long now being pushed into his face to mouth at.

It seemed his father could do one thing right

[heykaya]

Degrees of Lewdity - Character Outfits & Descriptions

Found through the game's code.

(Checked: 28th September 2024)

This one took a while to compile since it’s spread across 2-3? different files.

If there is a line (_____) in between like this:

(Character Name)

Outfits <— The game chooses which outfit the character wears from these options. Loads first.

Outfits

Outfits

_____

Outfits <— This one will load second.

Outfits

Outfits

Character Outfits

Robin

"maleSchool”: ("school shirt", "school shorts"), desc: "school uniform"

"femaleSchool”: ("school shirt", "school skirt"), desc: "school uniform"

"maleSchoolLong”: ("school blouse", "school trousers"), desc: "school uniform"

"femaleSchoolLong”: ("school blouse", "long school skirt"), desc: "school uniform"

"maleSchoolSwimShirt”: ("swim shirt", "school swim shorts"), desc: "school swimsuit"

"femaleSchoolSwim”: ("school swimsuit top", "school swimsuit bottoms"), desc: "school swimsuit"

"maleTown1”: ("t-shirt", "shorts"), desc: "t-shirt and shorts"

"femaleTown1”: ("sundress top", "sundress skirt"), desc: "sundress"

"maleWarm1”: ("t-shirt", "shorts"), desc: "t-shirt and shorts"

"femaleWarm1”: ("sundress top", "sundress skirt"), desc: "sundress"

"coldPuffer”: ("puffer jacket", "slacks"), desc: "puffer jacket"

"pyjamas”: ("pyjama shirt", "pyjama bottoms"), desc: "pyjama shirt and bottoms"

* Not a mistake, (maleTown1 & maleWarm1) and (femaleTown1 & femaleWarm1) are written as the same outfits.

_____

Robin’s Christmas Outfits

("shirt", "shorts"), desc: "shirt and shorts"

("sundress", "sundress skirt"), desc: "sundress"

("tuxedo", "tuxedo trousers"), desc: "tuxedo"

("gothic gown", "gothic gown"), desc: "gothic gown"

("kimono", "kimono bottoms"), desc: "kimono"

(“christmas top", "christmas bottoms"), desc: "christmas outfit"

("ribbons", "ribbons"), desc: "mass of ribbons" - Robin wears a lewd ribbon outfit as a present for you.

Avery

"business”: ("business suit top", "business trousers"), desc: "business suit"

"maleFormal1”: ("tuxedo shirt", "tuxedo trousers"), desc: "tuxedo"

"femaleFormal1”: ("evening gown top", "evening gown"), desc: "formal gown"

"pyjamas”: ("pyjama shirt", "pyjama bottoms"), desc: "pyjama shirt and bottoms"

_____

Before 6pm: wear “business”: ("business suit top", "business trousers"), desc: "business suit"

After 6pm: wear “formal”

* Couldn’t find an outfit that’s just named “formal”, so I assume this means any clothing that is the “formal” type?

Kylar

"maleSchool”: ("school shirt", "school shorts"), desc: "school uniform"

"femaleSchool”: ("school shirt", "school skirt"), desc: "school uniform"

"maleSchoolSwim”: ("naked", "school swim shorts"), desc: "school swimsuit"

"femaleSchoolSwim”: ("school swimsuit top", "school swimsuit bottoms"), desc: "school swimsuit"

"maleTown1”: ("t-shirt", "shorts"), desc: "t-shirt and shorts"

"femaleTown1”: ("sundress top", "sundress skirt"), desc: "sundress"

"maleWarm1”: ("t-shirt", "shorts"), desc: "t-shirt and shorts"

"femaleWarm1”: ("sundress top", "sundress skirt"), desc: "sundress"

"coldHoodie”: ("hoodie", "sweatpants"), desc: "hoodie"

_____

If “formal” wear “formal" clothing.

If "goth" wear "formalRare":

Male: ("gothic jacket and vest", "gothic trousers"), desc: "gothic suit"

Female: ("gothic gown top", "gothic gown"), desc: "gothic gown"

If “swimsuit” wear “beach” clothing.

Otherwise: randomly generate an area-appropriate outfit 

Whitney

"Whitney”: ("leather jacket", "torn jeans"), desc: "leather jacket"

"maleSchoolBlazer”: ("school blazer", "school trousers"), desc: "school uniform"

"femaleSchoolBlazer”: ("school blazer", "long school skirt"), desc: "school uniform"

"maleSchoolSwim”: ("naked", "school swim shorts"), desc: "school swimsuit"

"femaleSchoolSwim”: ("school swimsuit top", "school swimsuit bottoms"), desc: "school swimsuit"

"coldHoodie”: ("hoodie", "sweatpants"), desc: "hoodie"

Sydney

"maleSchoolLong”: ("school blouse", "school trousers"), desc: "school uniform"

"femaleSchoolLong”: ("school blouse", "long school skirt"), desc: "school uniform"

"maleSchoolSwimShirt”: ("swim shirt", "school swim shorts"), desc: "school swimsuit"

"femaleSchoolSwim”: ("school swimsuit top", "school swimsuit bottoms"), desc: "school swimsuit"

"neutralRobe”: ("robe top", "robes"), desc: "robe"

"coldTrench”: ("trenchcoat", "jeans"), desc: "trenchcoat"

_____

If at the temple: wear “temple” clothing.

If in school, at lunch, or in the library: wear “school” clothing.

Otherwise: randomly generate an area-appropriate outfit 

Alex

"wildsFlannel”: ("flannel", "jeans"), desc: "flannel and jeans"

"AlexJorts”: ("flannel", "jorts"), desc: "flannel and jorts"

"AlexSkirt”: ("flannel", "skirt"), desc: "flannel and skirt"

"coldCoat”: ("coat", "jeans"), desc: "coat"

_____

If in the cottage and the time is between 9pm - 5am wear:

"maleAlexSleep”: (“t-shirt", "boxers"), desc: "t-shirt and boxers"

"femaleAlexSleep”: ("t-shirt", "boyshorts"), desc: "t-shirt and boyshorts"

Otherwise: randomly generate an area-appropriate outfit 

*farm events mention that boxers/boyshorts are black and red.

Eden

“Eden”: ("ramshackle hunting coat", "torn hunting trousers"), desc: "hunting outfit"

Morgan

“Morgan”: (“ruined suit", "ruined trousers"), desc: "ruined outfit"

Briar

"maleBriar”: ("shirtless suit", "formal trousers"), desc: "shirtless suit"

"femaleBriar”: ("low-neck dress", "cropped dress skirt"), desc: "plunging neckline dress"

Darryl

"maleFormal1”: ("tuxedo shirt", "tuxedo trousers"), desc: "tuxedo"

"femaleFormal1”: ("evening gown top", "evening gown"), desc: "formal gown"

_____

Otherwise: wear other "formal" clothing.

Remy

"ridingFormal”: ("shadbelly coat", "chapette breeches"), desc: "formal riding outfit"

Landry

"maleLandry": "grey sweater", "dark trousers"), desc: "grey sweater"

"femaleLandry": ("grey cardigan", "dark trousers"), desc: "grey cardigan"

Charlie

"dance”: ("dance shirt", "dance shorts"), desc: "dance uniform"

Harper

"doctor"("doctor's coat", "white trousers"), desc: "doctor uniform"}

_____

Otherwise: wear other "hospital" clothing.

Jordan

"maleRobe”: ("monk robe top", "monk robes"), desc: "robe"

"femaleRobe”: ("nun robe top", "nun robe skirt"), desc: "robe"

_____

Otherwise: wear other "temple" clothing.

Sirris

"teacher”: ("teacher's uniform", "teacher's slacks"), desc: "teacher's uniform"

"townTurtleneck”: ("turtleneck", "jeans"), desc: "turtleneck and jeans"

"townCollar”: ("collared shirt", "khakis"), desc: "collared shirt and khakis"

Doren

"teacher”: (“teacher's uniform", "teacher's slacks"), desc: "teacher's uniform"

"townTrack”: ("tracksuit top", "tracksuit bottoms"), desc: "tracksuit"

"townCollar”: ("collared shirt", "khakis"), desc: "collared shirt and khakis"

River

"teacher”: ("teacher's uniform", "teacher's slacks"), desc: "teacher's uniform"

"neutralRobe”: ("robe top", "robes"), desc: "robe"}

"townCollar”: ("collared shirt", "khakis"), desc: "collared shirt and khakis"

Winter

"teacher”: ("teacher's uniform", "teacher's slacks"), desc: "teacher's uniform"

Mason

"teacher”: ("teacher's uniform", "teacher's slacks"), desc: "teacher's uniform"

"maleSchoolSwim”: ("naked", "school swim shorts"), desc: "school swimsuit"

"neutralSwim”: ("swim shirt", "board shorts"), desc: "swimsuit"

"townTrack”: ("tracksuit top", "tracksuit bottoms"), desc: "tracksuit"

_____

Otherwise: wear other "beach" clothing.

Leighton

"teacher”: ("teacher's uniform", "teacher's slacks"), desc: "teacher's uniform"

"maleFormal1”: ("tuxedo shirt", "tuxedo trousers"), desc: "tuxedo"

"femaleFormal1”: ("evening gown top", "evening gown"), desc: "formal gown"

Black Wolf & Great Hawk

"naked”: ("naked", "naked"), desc: "naked"

Ivory Wraith

"naked”: ("naked", "naked"), desc: "naked"

"moonRobe”: ("flowing robe", "flowing robe"), desc: "flowing robe"

Degrees of Lewdity - Text Based Masterpost

[jeypawlik]

July 2024 Lupin Weekly Art Prompts

I host weekly prompts over on the Lupin forum and I've been slowly working on catching up with all of them, I'm very determined to get caught up before the year's over! Here's July's prompts: shenanigans, Fujiko enjoying gelato, NYC Looks & Zenigata wearing too many layers. Older prompt art can be found here~ [Image ID: Image 1 Lupin is neck deep in a lake, unbeknownst to him Zenigata has jumped from the dock behind him to disrupt Lupin's quiet swim. Image 2 Fujiko, wearing an elegant evening gown, gloves and fancy jewellery, sits down to gleefully enjoy a cheap looking container of gelato. Image 3 Lupin is sitting down wearing a tan blazer, a bright green button up, and bright blue bellbottom jeans. The colour scheme is extremely 70s, with the background only being a wavy rainbow of greens and oranges. Image 4 Zenigata is gasping and sweating, he's wearing his big heavy trench coat with a Hawaiian shirt under it. Zenigata: Luupiiin... wait... Lupin: Pops, just take your coat off! we're on vacation. Zenigata: Noooooo /end ID]

[lipstickmarks]

Mor headcanons

— Mor x fem!reader

Warnings: brief mention of grief, mention of mor’s trauma, nsfw under the cut

Mor is as generous as rhys. that generosity streak runs in their family. she buys you gifts for every occasion. you never had fine jewelry until her and she makes sure you get a new addition to your collection at least once per season.

she has a love/hate relationship with key lime pie. she’ll eat it if it’s offered and wince at the strange, biting tang of citrus but still finish the whole slice, groaning about it as she does so. she’s prefers more classically decadent treats like chocolate covered strawberries, raspberry chocolate mouse, anything chocolatey with whipped cream.

she loves babies. Being Nyx’s fun rich auntie Mor is the highlight of her immortal existence. She loves poking his little cheeks and rocking him to sleep and buying him oodles of presents. try and take the babe from her when he’s cuddling on her chest after a big solstice dinner, I dare you. whether or not she has babes of her own really depends on if the two of you decide that’s your path but even so, I think she’d wait a long, long time before starting a family. She wants to have time to live for herself first.

when you two agree to the mating bond, she gets you an entire assortment of snacks. she wants you to be able to choose what you want. Mor isn't much of a cook so it's mainly snacks: fruit, chocolates, bread with butter, but it means the world to you that she put so much thought into it. you two decide to split a piece of chocolate.

she’s not super into books. not because she isn’t smart, I think she just prefers other hobbies that are more kinesthetic— dancing, working out, making snow angels, swimming, etc.

red is her signature color but she has a fondness for white and gold, especially on women. If you wear a white chiffon gown with gold accessories, she’ll melt. she’ll follow you around like a puppy and do anything you ask “baby, you look like a goddess”

picks flowers every year on Andromeda’s death anniversary and then sets them in the Sidra to float out into the ocean. usually it’s a small white flower to symbolize the purity of their love and she places it in the water and watches the current carry it out to sea. she stands there for a long, long time.

she’s very private with not only her sexuality and history but just in general. she doesn’t offer up information about herself willingly because she has a fear of it being used against her. so once you two are dating and there’s established trust, she will just casually drop random lore and you will be like “wait you have a tattoo? where?”

kind of a neat freak. her bed is always made and her sheets are always crisp and clear. no clutter in her bed or anywhere in her room. the only time she likes her bed messy is when you two trash it🙂‍↕️

nsfw

she prefers making love by candlelight. Sex has had to mean different things to her in her life so when she’s intimate with someone she truly loves, trusts, and wants to be with (you😍), she wants it to be as romantic as possible. Lights off and pillar candles scattered all throughout your room to set a sexy, ambient tone.

lingerie is her love language. It’s practically part of the foreplay for her. Whether it’s her own or yours, it always turns her on. She loves the femininity and sultriness of it, loves to pull and paw at the ribbons and zippers and buttons and sometimes tear it off altogether. She practically has on fancy underwear all the time and you grow quite the extensive collection once you’re with her.

still not huge on PDA even after being out to her family. holding hands or putting your legs in her lap is one thing but she won’t stick her tongue down your throat in the middle of family dinner

loves putting her hand in your back pocket

[gwynrieldreams]

Things that I NEED like air to happen in Gwynriel's book:

Gwyn moving in with Nesta and getting out of the library

more late night run-ins with Azriel

falling asleep on his shoulder while researching

Gwyn buying dresses and wearing sth else other than her priestess robes or illyrian leathers

her singing in a beautiful gown and Azriel being utterly amazed

gleeriel

flying in Azriel's arms

exploring Velaris together

night swimming

Gwyn lulling him to sleep

riding her white pegasus with Azriel flying beside her

saving him from drowning during a mission

the Valkyries getting ready together and having a girls' night out

Gwyn dancing with Azriel

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

so 96% of you wanted to see me do a redesign of mermista. and while i can draw, i've been stuck in an art block so i opted to just draw over her current design. i don't hate all of it so i'm not changing everything.

let me go through the complaints i do have about her design.

first off, she does not look like royalty in the slightest. she just looks like some girl who likes the color blue. even the gold accents don't really help. i'm not saying she has to walk around in a gown and tiara but at least add something to her design to indicate that she's a princess?

secondly, those clown shoes are NOT IT. who even thought of that? they look uncomfortable and ridiculous, and doesn't make sense for her character design.

those sleeves/armor (??? i honestly don't know what those are) and gold gauntlets also do not look practical in the slightest. they look like they'd be a hindrance for a swimmer. and guess what, she still has them in her mermaid form.

the OG mermista design wasn't the greatest but at least it looked like she could swim comfortably.

so my objectives were:

give her outfit a more streamlined look so it would make sense for her powers

make her look like actual royalty and not some girl with a cool color palette

expand more on the indian-inspired design and reflect that in her usual outfit, instead of putting her in a saree-inspired dress for one episode and calling it a day (i say saree-inspired because it's not really a traditional saree, but more like a modern and slightly western rendition)

i made two versions of her redesign - one with a dupatta and one without. the dupatta, i understand, could be a hindrance in certain situations but i just wanted to give an example of how to take inspiration from a culture instead of just using it for brownie points. a dupatta is something indians would wear with their casual attire, mostly with salwars, unlike sarees which are generally reserved for special occasions (there are sarees that are casual wear, but they're still not the most convenient).

secondly, i gave her a headwear inspired from desi wedding attire and older indian tiaras. mind you, indian tiaras themselves are a lot more complex and beautifully crafted, but 1. it would take me ages to draw all the details and 2. i figured mermista would go for a simpler look, especially when she's not at her palace. also, while indian headwears are usually made with gold and jewels, i gave mermista's headwear pearls because.. pearls, oysters, ocean. mermaid vibes.

i changed the shoes and gave her a pair that are inspired by water shoes. i know that she would transform into a mermaid while swimming anyway, but these still look more comfortable without serving clowncore.

i replaced her gold accents with silver because the gold doesn't really mesh well with the teal, in my opinion. while indians are known for their love of gold, a lot of people nowadays opt for silver, because it is less expensive and more compatible with casual wear.

i highlighted the fishscale pattern in her outfit since you could barely see them in the original.

i gave her a bindi and the necklace that 80s mermista wore, as a tribute to the OG show, and the design is complete. i know that some of these may not be the easiest to animate but if they could animate perfuma's cape thing, entrapta's hair and a hundred different outfits for catra; this design is just child's play.

let me know what you think of the redesign and if you want me to do the same for the other characters!

[blueshistorysims]

As the paramour of a fashion designer, Francesca always wears the latest styles. Additionally, as a full-time working woman, she prefers practicality over style, and like many modern women of the 1930s, she has added more pants to her wardrobe. While it was still considered scandalous to wear pants in public, Francesca couldn't care less. She's also taken a larger interest in her Hong Konger heritage since the Crash, relearning the language and the culture, dressing as such. As always I aim for a cunty lesbian girlboss look for her lol.

Links and credits below the cut!

Daily: Hair, Earrings (Basgame), Dress, Stockings (Basegame), Shoes (Basegame)

Daily 2: Hair, Earrings (Basegame), Blouse, Slacks, Stockings (Basegame), Shoes (Basegame)

Travel: Hat, Hair, Jacket, Skirt, Gloves (Basegame), Socks, Shoes

Athletic: Hair, Sweater, Pants, Socks, Shoes

Sleep: Hair, Robe (Basegame)

Formal: Hair, Earrings (Get Together), Necklace (Vintage Glamour), Gown, Gloves, Pantyhose, Shoes

Party: Hair, Earrings, Dress, Inner Skirt, Pantyhose, Shoes

Swim: Hair, Swimsuit

Hot Weather: Hair, Top, Bottoms, Socks (Basegame), Loafers

Cold Weather: Hat, Hair, Coat, Turtleneck, Pants, Gloves (Basegame), Socks, Boots (Basegame)

Thank you to the these cc creators!

@simkatu, @happylifesims, @nolan-sims, @gilded-ghosts, @rustys-cc,

@historysims4, @ice-creamforbreakfast, @serenity-cc, @twentiethcenturysims,

@historicalsimslife, @simsfromthepast, @threethousandplumbobs,

@jius-sims, @imadako, @dzifasims, @monharicot, @sentate

[brain-rot-central]

Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal, Ch. 5

A/N: Holy hell, this chapter got hands. I sincerely apologize for it taking me almost two months to update. Buckle up -- we got some unsettling bullshit brewing within this one. As always, thank you all for your continued support, and please mind the tags. Happy reading!

Rating: Explicit Word count: ~8.2k (I'm rounding up) Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Tav (DU, named) Warnings: 18+, minor character deaths, depictions of murder, dark romance, pregnancy mention (of course), manipulative behaviors, toxic relationship, jealousy, abuse mention, minor references to suicidal ideation and overall mental health struggles Summary: Tav awakes after the events of the prior evening alone, confused. Having overheard a discussion between the servants, she makes her way down into the depths of the manor and uncovers a shocking secret.

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She awakens; startled.

Her eyes snap open and Tav springs up from the plush cocoon of linens she's wrapped in – white sheets and a cream colored duvet envelop her. She looks around, frantically searching a room that is unfamiliar. There’s a crick in her neck as she turns her head too fast. She winces then raises a hand to rub over the spot. Raised scabs cover the two signature pinpoints in her neck as she continues to soothe the aching muscle.

There's a heaviness to her head as the events of the prior night swim to the surface of her mind, panic starting anew. 

‘He bit me,’ Tav remembers, urgently. She extends both arms in front of herself for inspection, flipping them over again and again. At this moment, Tav cannot recall what her usual skin tone is – her chest heaves with labored breath as she looks hurriedly around the room for a mirror. In the corner, alongside the wall, sits a vanity. She bolts from the bed, rushing urgently to the mirror.

Grasping the edges of the vanity, Tav snaps her head up to meet the glass.

Her reflection…stares back at her.

Astarion had kept his word – he did not turn her.

She sighs, collapsing into the seat stationed at the vanity. Autonomic tremors wrack her body, adrenaline beginning to take effect. Closing her eyes, Tav focuses on her breathing. She takes a deep breath in through her nose, blowing it out through her mouth. Again. And again. As she rides the choppy waves of her anxiety, a sharp twist in her stomach has her laying a hand over her lower abdomen. With the palm of her hand, Tav rubs soothing circles over the plush softness of her growing belly.

“Glad to see you're okay,” she says affectionately to her stomach, lips curling up into a smile.

How did she end up here? Where is here? Peeling open her eyes, Tav gives the room an honest gander. It's not large, but not necessarily small, either. The room hosts hunter green walls with natural pine wood flooring. There’s a glass door to the front of the room, adjacent to the bed, with two smaller windows on either side; Tav can only assume it leads to a balcony. Beige drapes hang over the windows, parted gently down the middle and tied to the wall by golden holdbacks. There are plants – so many plants – throughout the room. Marbled pothos in hanging pots, a small belladonna on a stand; various other flora and fauna act as decor for the quaint bedroom.

She rises and walks back to the bed, noting that her belongings have been placed neatly along the bottom edge. Tav pokes through them, revealing each layer; her satchel, scarf, and hat are all present. Personal items are all accounted for as she rummages through her bag. It isn't until she notices her dress folded under her bag that she’s aware of her current attire. Somehow, she's now wearing a beige silk slip gown, the hem stopping just above her knees. The top and bottom of the dress are embroidered with white lace; a small bow is positioned right between the beginning of her cleavage.

Tav scans the room again and finds a matching bathrobe hanging on a hook behind the bedroom door. She quickly gathers the robe and throws it over herself, catching from the corner of her eye, what appears to be a note on the nightstand adjacent to the bed as she turns around. A vase of freshly cut red roses also resides atop the table.

Tav picks up the note and inspects it. The handwriting is Astarion's – of that, she's certain. The note is addressed to her. It reads,

‘Tavaria,

My apologies that you will wake alone with only this letter  – I'm in rather high demand, today. I am hopeful this note will provide much needed clarification.

It seems as though we’ve had a repeat of our first encounter, yester eve. For that, I owe you an apology. I was overzealous. Truly, I'd forgotten how much I savor your blood, and just how easy it is to lose myself to it.

Rest assured, as soon as I'd realized you'd lost consciousness, I stopped. Everything. Nothing further occurred during your incapacitation. I gathered us both and brought you here, to your bedroom, to rest. I hope you don't mind my giving you a change of clothing; not sure how you'd feel about falling asleep in your day clothes. You did always make it a point to change before retiring for the evening.’

Tav smiles as she reads over the letter. He was right; she never fell asleep without dressing down for the evening. When he had asked her why, she'd told him that it would invite horrid dreams, were she not comfortable during sleep. 

She continues reading,

‘I've tasked Magdalena with helping you around the manor. You need only ask that of which you desire, and she will assist. I suggest taking your morning tea out on the balcony overlooking the courtyard garden. The roses I've left were cut fresh from one of our many bushes this morning.

Tav looks to the glass door leading out to the patio. She catches a glimpse of the small courtyard beyond the ledge of the balcony. Various shades of pink and red roses line the courtyard walls; they're no doubt the source of his gift.

Although the urge to sequester you all to myself is an incredibly formidable one, our time is sadly not yet. You are free to leave whenever you desire. Simply inform Magdalena of your wish to leave, and she will escort you.

I do hope you make a habit of coming to visit. It would be lovely to have you at future events.

I ever so miss having you near, my dearest spitfire.

A. A.

Spitfire – his old moniker for her.

The first time he saw her charge headfirst into a group of Gnolls, he bestowed that name upon her. She'd yelled orders from her frontal position to the back line, the pack dropping quickly from their combined onslaught. All piss and raw vinegar as she cut them down, screaming with each swing of her great sword. For Astarion, it was exhilarating to watch the woman he was newly involved with take the initiative. He would later tell her it was a deciding factor in how he inevitably fell for her.

Tav places the note back on the table, raising her head toward the windows. She approaches the door to the balcony, placing a hand upon the handle. It turns with relative ease and Tav pushes open the door, stepping out onto the patio. The sun bathes her skin in a comforting warmth and she takes a moment to enjoy the sensation. Despite it being morning, she can already tell the weather will be unbearably warm by midday. Yet, for now, this is fine. This will do nicely to help soothe her worrisome heart. At least, for a short while.

Looking out beyond the balcony, Tav is greeted with a full view of the courtyard garden. She sees the rose bushes from before clearer, now. Various colored tulips outline the brick path cut down its middle, along with lavender and catmint, creating a dazzling display of color. Tav closes her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. A sweet floral scent meets her nose and she instantly relaxes, shoulders falling into a more comfortable position.

She recalls Astarion's surprise when they reached Baldur's Gate. “You forget just how much color there is in the world,” he told her. Seeing first hand how much vibrancy the garden possesses, it's no wonder he speaks so highly of it.

As she looks down at the grounds below, Tav sees gardeners trimming hedges. A couple look up and wave, having caught her in their periphery. She waves back as a kind gesture, and returns back to the bedroom. There's knocking on the bedroom door – three short taps with the back of a knuckle, just as she closes the door to the balcony.

“Lady Tavaria? Are you awake?” comes a light voice from the other side of the door.

‘Magdalena.’

“Y-yes! I'm up,” Tav answers. She walks to the bedroom door but doesn't open it. Instead, she chooses to stand in front, awaiting a response from the servant.

“Ah, wonderful!” Magdalena exclaims jovially. May I come in, my lady?”

Tav worries the inside of her cheek, hesitantly raising a hand to the doorknob. The woman is harmless, she knows, yet her heart still wavers. With a brief shuttering of her eyes, Tav draws in a deep breath again and opens the door.

Magdalena stands just outside the door, a tray of tea and finger sandwiches in her hands. “Brightest of mornings, Lady Tavaria,” she greets with a short curtsey. Her signature smile is widely on display. “I've brought tea and some breakfast, at the behest of Lord Ancunín.”

Tav nods and steps out of the way, welcoming Magdalena into the bedroom. The older woman places the tray on top of a wooden dresser along the wall. “Thank you,” Tav says, walking over to the tray. 

Her stomach growls as she looks over the sandwiches. It dawns on her that she hasn't eaten since lunch the day before. As she reaches for a piece of sandwich, Tav notices a small scroll rolled up on the tray next to the tea pot. Choosing to forego food at the moment, she picks up the scroll and starts cautiously untying the binding. “What is this?” Tav asks, glancing up toward Magdalena.

“A scroll of Lesser Restoration,” Magdalena explains. “The young Master insisted you’d have need of it.”

Tav opens the scroll and reads over the incantation. During their travels, it wasn't uncommon for Tav to ask this of Shadowheart, especially after nights with Astarion. Shadowheart would scold her for taking things too far yet again with their vampiric companion, but would heal her, nonetheless.

“That's very thoughtful of him,” Tav answers, flatly. She recites the spell laid out within the scroll, a faint blue aura enveloping her. The scroll disintegrates within her hands as the aura clears. Her head suddenly feels clearer, her body stronger. Tav never quite understood how the spell works, but she chooses never to question it further. For now, she'll enjoy her breakfast, pouring herself a cup of tea before choosing a piece of sandwich.

Magdalena smiles again as Tav begins eating. “May I run you a bath?” she offers. “It will be done by the time you finish.”

“Ah, no,” Tav answers while chewing, raising a hand to cover her mouth, “that's quite alright. I think I'll just slowly get myself together.”

Their eyes meet as Tav lifts her head toward the older woman once more. For a moment, the servant's eyes glow. Tav furrows her brow as she studies Magdalena’s face. She's seen this look before, but not since Cazador was still master of the palace. 

Suddenly, it clicks.

She's actively conferring with Astarion.

Magdalena's eyes return to their usual hue almost as quickly as they changed. Tav resumes her breakfast, feigning innocence of her discovery. 

“Of course, Lady Tavaria. That would be no problem at all,” says Magdalena. The servant makes toward the bedroom door, but turns around before exiting. “Please feel free to call for me, if you have need.”

Tav nods again while taking a sip of tea. “Of course, Magdalena. Thank you, though there's one question I have.” She motions toward the note lying on the nightstand next to the bed, seeking to prove her prior theory correct. “Astarion said in his note that I may leave whenever I please.” She places her tea back down on the tray, locking eyes once more with Magdalena. “Is that true?”

A brief moment passes without a response. Faint glowing rings appear around Magdalena’s irises once again, then fade within seconds. “Absolutely!” the woman exclaims, positively. “You’re free to come and go as you please. Master Astarion would never keep you here against your will.” The smirk on her face is not her own but that of Astarion’s, a blatant display of his compulsion over the older woman.

Tav draws in a shallow breath, deeply unsettled. “Thank you, Magdalena,” Tav says quietly, placing her cup of tea down. Magdalena bows before taking her leave of the bedroom, the door shutting with a soft ‘click’ behind her. Tav stares at the back of the door, mind beginning to race. 

Why spy on her if she's free to leave? Why offer her accommodations if Astarion has zero intent to keep her here? She winces as a sharp throb shoots through her neck. The scroll may have cleared her mind, though his mark is still very much present.

“He's hiding something,” Tav says aloud, raising a hand to rub the side of her neck. The scabs brush along her palm as she smoothes over the skin. She begins to ponder the night prior. The look on his face… His liar's smile. Tav knows the look well. He's used it on her and countless others across the duration of their journey together.

But why? It's her, after all. He can trust her, can't he? He can confide in her.

“You left me, remember?”

The words echo in her mind. She hates to admit it, but Tav broke his trust just as much as he broke hers. The exact moment of Astarion’s triumph is when she pulled away. When he finally achieved all he lusted after, she left. Rejected entirely the man he became, truly, for her. Sold the very essence of his conscience in a diabolical contract to achieve the confidence, power, and strength to protect her, to protect them, for the rest of eternity.

She drops her hand to her stomach, rubbing over the small bump of her lower belly. That same circumstance is the exact reason she's in her current position. It surprises her, though Tav believes Astarion is still somehow unaware of her condition. If he were, he would have half the manor waiting on her hand and foot. The best clerics and healers would be brought in from all around Faerûn. But above all, he would demand that she stay here. Tav has little doubt he would be an attentive and caring partner. Yet, it would mark the end of her freedom. There is no doubt in her mind about that.

Tav inevitably makes her way to the bath, stripping herself of the silken nightgown. She cleanses her skin thoroughly with care, looking delightfully at the array of soaps and oils provided to her. When she steps back out, she assembles her outfit from the day before. 

With one more small bite of a sandwich and a sip of tea, Tav heads out of the bedroom and into the large hallway. She's unfamiliar with this wing of the palace – not somewhere that was accessible to during their initial visit. It's entirely possible Astarion had this built during the renovations, though the marble carvings within the walls state otherwise. Plush red carpeting lines the hallway, leading to a grand wooden staircase.

Looking around, Tav notes that there is barely a presence on this floor. She begins making her way toward the staircase, noting that even the floor below looks just as deserted. The gears in her head begin turning; where could everyone be? It's barely mid-morning – certainly the servants have chores?

Upon reaching the bottom of the steps, Tav hears soft echoes of voices coming from around the corner. She believes this to be the main floor of the manor. Is he having a meeting in the foyer? The ballroom? She travels down the hall and hugs the corner wall. Slowly she peaks her head over the corner. No one is present in the manor foyer, yet when she turns her head toward the ballroom, Tav quickly pulls herself close to the wall in an effort to avoid being spotted.

Cautiously, Tav again looks around the corner, staying as flush with the wall as possible. There's a gathering of sorts within the ballroom. Maids and servants are arranging table sets, ornaments are being strung from the walls. One servant is up on a ladder hand-wiping each crystal of the delicate chandelier that hangs from the ceiling. 

Ah, this explains why the manor is so deserted. They're all here, seemingly preparing for an event. Tav looks around and quickly notes Astarion’s absence, yet catches Magdalena fussing with another servant.

“Why’s it we who have to do all this?” complains the young man. He's tall, thin, with shortly cropped ears. A half-elf, perhaps? Maybe even less. “Why's the Master get to sit all pretty while we're here working?” He's holding a silver teapot, polishing it with a soft, white cloth.

“Oh, Thaddeus,” Tav overhears Magdalena sigh, “Lord Ancunín trusts that everything will be up to his expectations, so long as it is us who do this.” The basket she holds comes to rest on a nearby table top as she turns to her companion. “You can hire just about anyone to do anything. But those finer details that have people talking for weeks?” She raises a hand, wagging a finger toward the young man. “Those can only be found by knowing your clientele. And we do.” She nods her head. “He knows that.”

Tav begins to pull back along the wall but stops once she hears the young man speak again, “You know him a long time, don't you?”

“I do,” Magdalena answers confidently.

“Was he always this arrogant?”

The pensive look in the woman's eyes gives Tav pause once again. “He wasn't always in a position to be otherwise,” Magdalena replies quietly.

Tav finally pulls herself back along the wall, looking down to the floor. It's how he survived Cazador. The slavery. The whoring. The hunger. All of it. “Spite made me who I am!” She remembers the venom laced within those words, having pushed him too far. Her heart skips in her chest as it floods with unsettling heat.

“Do I really have to go down there?” the boy from earlier says from around the corner. “It's cold down there. And smells awful.”

Tav listens closely as Magdalena responds, “Oh fine, you don't have to go right now. But someone must go down before tomorrow night’s banquet.”

‘Down?’ Tav ponders. The only thing she remembers being under the manor is the crypts. Those were left empty after the ritual, having sacrificed all those lives in the Rite. Nothing remained but the stench of death and stale air. What could possibly be down there that they need to check on?

In a split decision, Tav peers quickly over the edge of the wall again. The path is clear; every servant is occupied with their tasks at hand. She then dashes to the opposite wall, hugging it close as she listens to the activity within the ballroom.

Nothing. Just the same chatter as before.

If she has any hope of making it to the crypts, Tav remembers she needs the ring. That accursed fucking ring, engraved with the Szarr family sigil. She doubts Astarion has changed the enchantment, as evidenced by the heavy metal doors of the ballroom. ‘But where to find the ring?’ she ponders. Tav recalls a matching set – one within Cazador's possession, and the other…

Godey. 

Astarion returned the duplicate back to fucking Godey. Or, really, what was left of him. Once obtaining Cazador's ring, he returned the prior to the skeleton before departing the palace. 

“I very much deserve the real thing. Not some cheap imitation,” he says. As Tav watches him kneel before the corpse of his tormentor, he gives pause. They’re the only two occupants of the room, the others choosing to stay above in the foyer. The room smells horrid; fetid. Nothing but the stench of death and decay permeates the air. Astarion sits with his head bowed low, hands balled into tight fists on his thighs. Tav refrains from speaking, letting Astarion have his moment. Eventually, the newly ascended vampire lord reaches into his pocket and produces the duplicate ring, dropping it within the pile of bones that was once animated. As he rises, Astarion turns to Tav and says, “I’m done here.”

She quirks her brow. “Are you sure?” Tav asks in concern. “We should really talk–”

“I’m done here,” Astarion repeats again, more sternly. He walks past Tav without making eye contact and heads for the stairs. Tav looks back at the room briefly before exiting, then follows Astarion up the stairs.

Looking around, Tav realizes the layout of the manor has changed. “But has he changed the structure underneath?” she whispers to herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she finds it – a small stairway at the end of the hall leading down and–

‘Aha; there it is.’

Tav quickly scans the hall and upon realizing the way is clear, dashes toward the staircase. She hurries down the stairs, halting momentarily at the bottom to perform another quick surveillance of her surroundings. 

Having Astarion as a teacher certainly helped improve her stealth. His two-hundred years of experience shined brightest as he glided about the night, lifting coin purses and trinkets with finesse so smooth they'd all be right out of earshot when the shrills of the victims finally rang out. Tav would stand in awe as he'd then pawn the hot items, using every smooth edge of his perfectly sculpted face to its full advantage. It was often that he'd come away with more gold in hand than the others during these exchanges, leading to the group agreeing unanimously that Astarion barter with all merchants.

The way looks clear once more and Tav ventures into the hall. This floor looks little changed; the…entertainment…quarters are off to the left, which means the kennels are still to the right. Tav turns her head as she approaches the threshold of the kennels. The blood-stained mattresses from months prior are still strewn about the floor of the room, coupled with the shackles welded into the stone. What makes her breath catch is Godey’s skeleton, lifeless on the ground. It's laying in the exact same position it was left in when he was slain. 

Astarion hasn't touched it. 

No one has touched anything in this room, let alone on this floor, from the looks of it.

With a heavy sigh, Tav steps through the doorway and enters the torture chamber. The air still carries the horrid scent of decay, but not nearly as strongly as the months’ prior. She kneels before the pile of bones on the floor that once was Godey, and without much hesitation, begins rummaging around for the ring. She finds it under his ribcage, nestled between his pelvis, and quickly stashes it in her satchel. Tav tries rearranging Godey’s remains as respectfully as she can, then rises from the floor.

She's quick to leave the room, not affording herself a glance back, and slinks back up the stairs. A servant passes as she reaches the top of the stairs and Tav halts, watching them intently. Thankfully, they fail to notice her presence, and she continues up into the hallway. Her next challenge is to somehow sneak into the ballroom, to the doorway off to the left that houses the elevator shaft. Astarion taught her an invisibility spell during their lessons, though her grasp on the spell is crude at best, only being able to hold the veil for half its usual time. 

She'll have to be quick, is all.

Tav hugs the wall once more as she makes her way back to the ballroom. Silently she prays no changes have been made to that wing of the manor. She whispers the incantation for the invisibility spell to herself; her form blinks out of view and she dashes into the room. Holding her concentration as best she can, Tav nearly collides with a maid as she turns the corner. The spell flickers for a soft moment, threatening to collapse entirely, before she inevitably regains focus. She looks around briefly – no one within the ballroom seems to have noticed her mishap, and she quickly slips behind the door leading to the elevator, closing it promptly behind her.

Exhaling in relief, Tav releases the spell, retrieving the ring from her satchel as she walks toward the elevator. The gate opens as she approaches and she steps in. As she raises the ring to the corresponding sigil etched within the metal wall, Tav winces, hoping that the activation of the elevator doesn’t trigger an alarm. Ancient gears begin to wind, feeling the vibrations under her feet, and the gate closes. The elevator begins to draw down, and Tav sighs in relief.

The air shifts as she further descends down the shaft. An uneasiness takes root deep within her chest as the temperature shifts; she shivers, and suddenly, the elevator stops with a jump. The gate swings open and Tav steps off. She's assaulted by the scent of rotting organic matter and stale blood. Her stomach churns, half in nausea but also hunger. Curse the child growing within – already having such a twisted moral compass. Most befitting of the union between a vampire and a Bhaalspawn.

Her footsteps reverberate loudly against the tall stone walls of the dungeon. As she looks around, Tav realizes that this, too, has been left untouched during the renovations. Making her way to the main hall, she ponders where Astarion would keep his secret hidden, were there one. She turns off to the left and heads to where the remains of Vellioth lay; where most accounts from all prior lords of the manor reside.

Entering the stone room, Tav immediately notices the two sarcophaguses off to the right. They, too, are made of stone, their lids decorated with intricate carvings. She quirks her brow, drawing closer to the structures. These look new; a fine dust has settled on the ground surrounding each, most likely shaken off the while being placed.

A quick memory flits across her mind, of the two men mentioned within the Gazette. Evidence of fangs marks marring their necks, vanishing from the crime scene without a trace. Again Tav's stomach churns, queasily this time. 

Perhaps these are Astarion's new sleeping chambers? Her brain is trying to form a positive explanation. Maybe he's grown tired of satin and feathered beds, craving the comforts of solitude. 

She winces, seemingly staring out into nothing, and pulls her head to one side. ‘No,’ Tav thinks, ‘not after that particular event…’

She approaches the first of the tombs, cautiously extending her hands to the lid. With a breath, she pushes, the bellowing sound of stone grinding against stone cutting through the heavy silence of the crypt. Finally, the cover drops to the floor with a loud ‘thud’, the ground shaking briefly beneath her feet.

Closing her eyes, Tav leans forward over the lip of the stone coffin. She wills her eyes to then open observing the contents inside.

Her mouth drops open, breath arresting in her chest by what she finds.

Within the stone coffin lay a man in hooded black garb. Of elven lineage, most likely – not much older than a hundred. As she scans his form, Tav notes a discolored bruise on one side of the man’s neck. A trail of blood leads down his chest, obscured by the collar of his garb. Reaching into the coffin, she gently pushes the hood to the side, allowing her a better view of his neck.

Her pupils grow wide.

Within the blossomed bruise, two pin marks decorate the man’s skin. Tav raises a hand to her neck and traces the distance between each of her scars. She extends her hand over the man's neck, keeping her fingers aligned. 

She gasps – the marks line up near perfectly with her fingers. 

‘No…’

A surge of heat crawls throughout her body, her heart drumming loudly within her ears. Tav darts her eyes to the second stone coffin and sets to work on shoving off the lid. With one final groan from Tav, the lid hits the floor, ground shaking again from the impact. Quickly, Tav peers over the ledge.

Another young man in hooded black garb – a dragonborn. Tav reaches down to push the hood over, revealing the man's neck to her eyes. He, too, possesses the same pin marks as the first.

“Somehow I knew I'd find you here,” comes a smooth voice from beyond the corridor. 

Tav halts, a shiver running down her spine. She knows that baritone voice, all too well.

Him.

Footsteps echo off stone flooring, the sound increasing in intensity as he walks down the hall. He emerges from the shadows and into full view; he's chosen his red and black doublet today, with a simple pair of black slacks. His loafers are the same as the day's prior. Not a single strand of hair atop his head is out of place. Perfectly poised, per usual.

“Shouldn't’ve taught me your entire repertoire, then,” Tav retorts with slight annoyance, swiveling her head to address him over her shoulder.

He smirks as he closes the distance. “Half, little love,” Astarion chides with a wag of a finger. “I taught you half of what I know.” He stands just within the doorway’s arch, crossing his arms over his chest. Astarion then tilts his head to one side, pulling his face into a questioning scowl. “Why exactly are you here?”

Silence hangs heavy in the air while Tav conjures a response. She narrows her eyes, shooting Astarion a searing glance.

“You lied to me, Astarion,” she accuses, raising a finger at him. “And I knew you did.” Looking to the twin coffins lining the walls of the room, Tav shakes her head. “I overheard the servants talking about something here within the crypts, and I–”

Astarion drops his brow. “Who did you overhear?” comes his stern response, laced within a deep growl.

Tav shrugs her shoulders. “Does it matter?” she suggests. “The damage is already done, Astarion. I know the truth.”

He's quiet as she walks toward him; stoic. He stops breathing, having no true need of it, and he’s a living statue before her eyes. Ivory skin with just the faintest hint of life. Piercing red eyes. A strong, sharp nose. Hardened jaw clenched tight… 

Tav is quick to rid her mind of the creeping lust that threatens to bloom within.

“But what I don't understand is why lie to me, Astarion?” She continues to argue her point, pounding a fist over her chest. “What do you gain? What do you preserve?”

Astarion doesn't answer immediately, likely trying to piece together a sound reply. He shifts his weight onto one hip and sighs. “Has our dearest friend Wyllyam not told you of our arrangement?”

Tav shifts back a step, turning her face toward the side only minimally, eyes still fixated upon him. “What are you implying?”

Astarion’s resulting smile oozes malice. “Oh dear, you really don't know.” He drops his arms from his chest and closes the distance. Tav flinches as he leans toward her, dropping his voice to a purr, “And here I thought you were just playing the part.”

“Know what, Astarion? Speak plainly,” demands Tav.

Again, a momentary lapse in response. He stares blankly, expressionless as he says, “Awfully surprised this hasn't come up during pillow talk.”

Tav blinks in genuine shock. ‘Pillow talk? What in the hells–’

Suddenly, her brain mulls over the thought and she scowls. “Astarion, are you asking if I've ever slept with Wyll?”

He leans back, shifting his head again to one side. “I'm not quite sure, love,” he says, feigning innocence. “Perhaps you could tell me?”

Flabbergasted, Tav shouts, “He's the Duke, Astarion! I report directly to him!” She shakes her head in disagreement. “No, our interactions are strictly professional.”

“Of course, but old habits die hard, my dear. Surely you know that,” Astarion retorts.

The sentence churns within her brain. Tav recalls the events of their journey against the Absolute. Every dinner, every laugh, every intimate moment shared.

‘He can't possibly be referring to…’ 

Her attention snaps back to Astarion, who waits patiently as she unravels his meaning.

“We shared a kiss, Astarion,” Tav explains, mildly annoyed. “You and I pledged ourselves to one another soon after. You know this.”

“You both shared a rather intimate dance, as well.” He begins to circle her; Tav keeps her head on a swivel as she tracks his movement. “What else, I wonder, did you share in our time away from one another?”

“I already told you, our relationship is strictly professional. I harbor no additional feelings for Wyll.”

Astarion's raises his hands in defeat, bowing slightly at the waist. “I'll accept what you say as truth.”

Somberly, Tav looks toward the two stone coffins holding the unfortunate victims. “How does Wyll have anything to do with this?” she questions. “I doubt he'd take murder lightly.”

Astarion huffs a laugh. “Oh, my darling, how wrong you are. They aren’t dead.” Astarion moves toward the first sarcophagus, stopping just next to it. “And they're not innocent. I can assure you of that.”

She whips her head toward Astarion, bewilderment painted clear up on her face. “Not dead?” reiterates Tav. “Astarion, I'm sure of what I saw. Those two men are dead; gone of this world.”

“Did you touch them?” he inquires, lifting a brow.

“No,” she admits, shaking her head, “why would I?”

Astarion lifts his chin, nodding toward the coffins. “Touch them,” he dares. “Go on.”

Tav holds his challenging gaze for a moment before bowing her head. Cautiously, she walks toward the coffins again, choosing the one that holds the elven man. Quickly she looks to Astarion, who nods his head again in encouragement. Tav raises a shaky hand over the lip of the coffin, reaching for the young man inside.

The hand connects and her eyes grow wide.

‘His skin…it's…’

“Cool, but not chilled, yes?” Astarion comments smugly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Tav quickly retracts her hand, shooting a heated glance at Astarion. “What the hells is this, Astarion?” she yells. “What kind of enchantment is this?!”

Knitting his brow, Astarion says, “Tell me, darling – does this satisfy your desire to paint me as some type of devil?” Slowly he stalks toward her, like a predator encircling their prey. Instinctively, Tav backs away, desperate to create more distance. “Does this prove your preconceived notions correct?”

“Astarion…” Tav says in a small voice, but she halts her retreat – a wave of rebellion overtaking her. She stands steady, watching his every movement.

He stops before her, heavy breaths rippling through his nostrils. “Will you fly from me again?” he asks, jaw tight. He leans forward, adding in a growl, “Do you fear me, now?”

He’s spiraling.

Backed into a corner, he's poised to strike. As she studies his face, Tav notes the tension set deep within his features. “...Not unless I have reason to,” she challenges. Tav narrows her eyes in question. “Do I?”

The tension eases somewhat, Astarion's face softening. He straightens his posture, placing a hand on the lip of the coffin for support. “Of course not,” he admits, looking off to the side. Astarion worries at his bottom lip. “I would see this entire city burn, if you willed.”

A cold shutter runs down the length of her spine. “I would never ask that of you, Astarion,” Tav states, cocking her head to one side.

“I know,” he smiles, lips pulling into a smirk, “but my offer still stands.”

Despite offering to raze an entire city in her stead, Tav realizes he still cannot call this what it truly is. 

Love.

How much he loves her. Loves the idea of them. His worst fear realized, Tav comes to understand, is her turning her back on him again. Walking out the door, never to return. Astarion still cannot admit to himself that he longs, desperately, for nothing more than them being together, for as long as the accursed Gods above allow.

But, she knows. She sees it – sees him.

Her eyes wander back to the elven man in the stone coffin. Tav turns to face the coffin and dips her hand once more, placing the flat of her hand against the man’s cheek. “How is it possible that they still live?” she asks, curious. “You bit them, didn't you? Drained them?”

“I did,” agrees Astarion with a slight nod of his head, “however, that's only the first part. They haven't yet reached the final act.” His chest rises as he draws in a breath, exhaling with audible force. He meets her eye as he says, “Currently, they lay between.”

Tav's jaw drops in silent question. “How do you mean between, Astarion?” she asks, mortified. “Are you implying they're in a sort of stasis?”

“Somewhat, yes,” confirms Astarion. “To create a vampire spawn, the victim must be buried under six feet of dirt. After which,” he continues, gesturing with a light twirl of his wrist, “they awaken the following night. Beckoned, by their new master.” A hollow look sets on his face, eyes dropping to the floor. “Bound to them. Forever.”

“This happened weeks ago,” Tav is quick to argue, the soft burn of panic igniting within her chest. “You've kept them here this entire time? In this state?”

Astarion shrugs his shoulders in nonchalance, adopting a sort of apathy as he says, “Not much else to do, unfortunately. Not until I decide otherwise.”

A heavy sense of dread looms overhead. Tav can hardly believe how seemingly detached he is from the severity of the situation – willfully keeping these men in limbo, until he, essentially, gets around to settling the matter. 

Completely at his mercy.

“This is hardly fair, Astarion,” says Tav, voice quivering.

“And what makes you think they're deserving of such a gesture?” he asks with a quirk of his brow.

“Everyone is,” she states in an urgent breath, “especially in death.”

“You’ve no idea who your heart bleeds for,” Astarion counters in a low growl, teeth clenched.

In a display of confidence, albeit foolishly, Tav approaches the vampire. “Did these men give themselves to you willingly?” she asks, pushing forward. Taken aback, Astarion steps away. “Did they pledge fealty to you? Or did you take it?”

Still stepping back, Astarion says quietly, “That hardly matters.”

“No, that's precisely what matters,” Tav insists, forcefully. She halts her frontal assault, choosing to meet his gaze. “Answer me, Astarion – did these men give you permission to turn them?”

They stand, eyes locked in a heated silent exchange, before Astarion finally admits, “No.” it's a one word response, yet it holds the weight of an entire mountain within its meaning.

The fire within her chest threatens to burst into an inferno, and Tav can tell Astarion is feeling the pressure, as well. There's a sheen to his eyes that only appears before the fall. Before a breakthrough.

“Is that the sort of master you want to be?” she pushes. The consequences of such an accusation can leave her in the same position as the men in the coffins, though this is another test of their bond. “One who takes without consideration?” Tav continues. 

Can he withstand moral objectivity? Criticism? ‘Comparison,’ she thinks to herself, ‘to Cazador?’

“I would not wish to create spawn of those unaware of this life,” Astarion states mournfully.

“But if you complete the process, they become your spawn, correct?” infers Tav, continuing to lay on the pressure. “You would have the ability to compel them.”

Astarion shoots her a side glance. “I would never do that to them,” he snarls defensively, his limit quickly approaching.

“No, but you would still have the option. Just as he did. And they would know that.” Astarion's nostrils begin to flare as Tav encircles him, his face screwing up into a tightly disapproving scowl. “Just as you did.”

“Tav,” Astarion growls out in warning, fists clenching with fevor. He follows her path around him, eyes glued to her form.

“That at any moment,” she continues, “you could bend them to your will. Just as he did.” Astarion's chest is heaving by this point. Strong, ragged breaths tear through his chest.

Yet, Tav goes on. “How long do you think you'll have before they rebel? Before they seek to reclaim the life you unjustly stole from them?” Tav stops just before him, craning her neck to one side as she says, “Does that sound like a familiar story to you?”

“I am not him!” Astarion shouts, hunching over. His fangs are bared, his palms splayed wide. His eyes flicker a bright gold for all but a second, but it's a second too long for Tav to not take notice. Astarion drops to his knees and Tav backs away, startled by the display before her.

Astarion's nails dig deeply at the stone floor below. He's snarling – saliva now drips from his mouth as his body gives over to a fit. Panic settles within Tav’s chest, though her feet refuse to carry her any further away. Astarion whips back his head – pupils blown wide – and their eyes meet; a thin ring of ruby red encircles them. 

“Astarion…” Tav sighs. She eases herself to the floor, but doesn't reach for him. Instead, she sits attentively – an unspoken display of trust that he will not take advantage of her vulnerability. Hoping that somewhere, deep within, he's still the man she came to love.

A low rumble rises from Astarion's chest as he studies her face. His eyes roll into his skull and he sits back, blinking rapidly. Raising a hand, he swipes it down the front of his face, then shakes his head.

“...Are you back?” Tav asks, timidly.

Astarion gives a knowing glance, nodding his head in silent agreement.

“What was that?” she asks.

Settling his gaze on the floor, hanging his head, Astarion confesses, “I…I don't know,” His chest rises and falls with labored breaths. “Forgive me; I meant you no harm.”

Somehow, she knows. Trusts in the one impenetrable fact that he will always protect her. That no harm will ever come to her, either by his own doing or by others. Tav doesn't fear him, nor what he is capable of.

“I know,” Tav says, confidently. She holds out her hands, palms turned upward, in offer to Astarion. They don't have to talk about what happened just yet. For right now, they must move forward.

He gives pause at her gesture, but then readily accepts, enclosing his hands over hers. They aid one another in rising off the floor and stand, keeping their hands interlocked just a moment too long.

Tav speaks first, saying, “You have to do something with them, Astarion. You can't just leave them here and pray they'll go away.”

His hand finds one of hers again, entwining their fingers once more. “...What would you suggest I do?” he asks, unsure. Astarion looks to her from under his lashes, brow knit tightly in a concerned scowl.

Tav squeezes his hand encouragingly. “Show them the mercy you wish was afforded to you.”

Astarion lifts his head, eyes widening as he looks to her. “...You would allow such a thing?” he asks with a hint of desperation in his voice.

Tav brings their interlocked hands to her lips, placing a gentle kiss to the top of his. “I support you doing what's right, Astarion.”

His eyes flutter momentarily, somewhat surprised by the intimate gesture, before he dips his head in a short nod. “Fine,” he says, “I'll do it.” 

Releasing his grip on her hand, Astarion moves to the coffin holding the young elven man. He reaches for his side, under his doublet, and Tav hears him unsheath his dagger from its hilt. Seconds later, Astarion pulls it free from his hip with a skilled jerk.

With a shaky breath, Astarion takes the opposite hand and begins tracing down along the breast bone of the unconscious man beneath. He feels, under the pads of his fingers, for each intercostal space, stopping once he reaches the fourth. Now moving his hand slightly to the left of the sternum, he dips his fingers again to confirm proper placement. The man's heart beats slowly under his touch; Astarion releases his breath, and looks again to Tav.

Tav sees the trepidation in his eyes. He's asking silently, again, for her permission to continue. If what he’s about to do is tolerable. Will she turn and run if he goes through with this? Would it be too much for her to witness him at his worst? 

She nods almost instinctively, taking notice of her own heightened state. There once was a time when the call of blood and sinew thrilled her; though now, the adrenaline coursing through her veins exists for a different reason entirely. Her heart beats strong against its cage, flooding her ears. 

Astarion means to kill these men. Mercifully, yes, but kill them, all the same. And she's allowing it. Encouraging it. Guiding his hand toward a path of resolution. A chance at redemption for his soured soul, all but forgotten by every God.

It's no matter to her, really – she longs to be his sanctuary. The savior of his damned existence. She wasn't strong enough then, during the ritual, but by the Gods she will never make that mistake again. Stop at nothing now to save him. To give him a new chance at life.

One where they all can exist together. Him, her, and the blossoming love that grows within.

Receiving the answer he sought, Astarion turns his attention again to the man’s chest. He raises the dagger, replacing his fingers with the tip of the blade. He pauses for a second, then begins pushing the knife forward.

A deep, agonal groan rings loudly against the crypt walls the moment Astarion's blade pierces heart. A shiver passes over Tav as she traces the movements of Astarion's arm. He twists the dagger within the elf’s chest, another garbled sound slipping past the young man's pale lips as Astarion carves through myocardium.

Astarion stands, near perfectly still, in the same position until the sound dies down. Only then does he pull the dagger free. He wipes the flat of the blade against his thigh, moving toward the dragonborn in a seamless transition.

A final groan spills from the older man. It reverberates within the crypt, drifting off into a dull dum. Astarion carefully removes the blade from the man’s chest, dropping it unceremoniously onto the floor with a loud ‘clang’. Astarion drags a hand down the length of his face and begins stalking backwards. “It's done,” he comments, turning on his heels and heading toward the exit. His head hangs low as he passes Tav.

She hardly acknowledges his passing – she’s too transfixed on the scene before her. 

Finally, the two men lay dead. Her nose picks up the faint scent of their blood as it slowly trickles from their wounds, though the smell is not as fragrant as that of a fresh kill. The scent envelops her once more and her stomach lurches in disgust.

‘It's rancid!’ she cries to herself. Tav places a hand over her abdomen, rubbing soothing circles over her belly, hoping to calm this sudden wave of nausea.

The crushing reality of the situation begins to set in. Tav had encouraged Astarion to show these men mercy. Mercy that wasn’t shown to him. She knew he'd likely choose this option, but the why escaped her. 

Until now.

“Astarion,” she calls out in a shaky breath, beginning to understand, “does this mean you…?”

Astarion halts just before stepping beyond the room's threshold. He turns slowly, looking at Tav as he says, “I'm holding a charity ball tomorrow evening. In Wyll's honor.” His voice is flat – devoid of its usual flair. “You should come. Speak with him. He can explain this better than I could ever hope to try.”

He's already rebuilding his walls.

Tav shifts to meet his gaze. A single tear tracks down Astarion's face and he quickly wipes it away, but she sees. Sees the bob of his neck as he swallows. Finds the hollow look in his eyes as he meets hers. “You did the right thing, Astarion,” she states, trying to provide reassurance. Give him an encouraging hand.

Yet, he's quick to refuse it.

“Then why doesn't it feel that way?” Astarion confesses, sternly. He promptly turns again and heads once more to the doorway, disappearing beyond the threshold.

Tav stands alone within the crypt. Her knees suddenly grow weak as the evening's events finally catch up to her. She guides herself softly to the floor, supporting her weight on a single arm as she leans to one side. Tav brings her other hand to rest over her chest and feels the crazed beating of her heart. The crushing weight of the evening settles deep in her bones.

Part of Astarion…wishes that were him.