#converted carriage house

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This is sooooo cute! It’s a converted 1892 carriage house in Galveston, Texas.

The living room looks kind of tropical, doesn’t it?

But, then you can see the carriage house look in the dining room. I don’t think the walls are original, but the chimney is. It’s a small, weirdly configured building, so they had to work with what they had.

This is a nice kitchen for a small house. I like the floor. Everything is so compact- notice how the table is part of the stairs.

What a pretty bedroom off the dining room- there are 3 bdms.

1 of 2 baths is kind of narrow, so they cleverly made it into a shower.

This must be the main bedroom, b/c it’s the largest. It’s on the main floor, but also has access to the upper level.

I guess they can’t really count this as a bedroom b/c it’s so tiny and there’s no closet.

The 2nd bath is very nice, but it looks like they grouted the tile themselves, b/c it’s a bit uneven, but kind of charming.

This is a pretty room- it’s so light and airy. From the outside of the house, you can tell that it has an odd configuration, but they did a good job converting it.

They added a large covered porch on the back, plus a patio, to make the most of a small lot.

https://circaoldhouses.com/property/storybook-carriage-house/

#converted carriage house #carriage house conversion #historic homes #old house dreams #long post

[vintagehomecollection]

This shingled cottage, now let as a bed and breakfast, was built around 1880 as a carriage house in the rear yard of a large Victorian but was converted to a rental unit around the turn of the century.

The Cottage Book, 1989

#vintage #vintage interior #1980s #80s #interior design #home decor #shingle siding #cottage #fencing #dark green #trim #front door #brick #patio #San Francisco #California #cedar #carriage house #home #architecture

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

request for yan!villain Eros: What happens that after the kiss in the garden, mc avoids him like a plague (I wouldn't do that he's hot)

Yandere! Villain x Regressor! AFAB! Villainess! Reader part 2

I'M MAKING THIS A PART 2 OF THE CANNON PLOT BECAUSE HELLO?? THIS IS GOOD (the ask, not my writing LMAOOO)

I'm gonna start answering the recent asks tomorrow after I made my draft for our Theatre play! So be patient please (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`)

Pookie you wouldn't do that to him, would you?? He would literally cry like a baby then burn the whole empire down 🥲

Don't believe me??

:)

This is short, but I wrote everything I can.

Eros sat inside his luxury carriage.

He's in front of your chateau, waiting for you to come outside.

It's been a week since he kissed you, and ever since then, you avoided him like the plague.

At first, Eros thought you were only shy. Maybe heartbroken over the fact that your fiance cheated on you.

But no.

No no no no...

You've been avoiding him and leaving him hanging.

What's that called again back in earth?

"Ah... She fucking ghosted me." Eros whispered to himself, gripping his fist. Even the leather gloves wasn't able to withstand the sheer force of his grip that it slowly ripped, and ripped. And ripped.

His patience was running thin.

He's not playing.

"Ah..." He brushed back his hair. His eyebags dark and deep, he stared at the ceiling, wondering where it went wrong. Then, the waterworks came.

Tears started to slowly drip down his cheeks as his eyes stung. His vision blurry, he lets the tears flow down to his neck or drip to his expensive outfit. He doesn't care. All he feels is the longing he had for so long for you.

He wants to see you, hold you, and care for you.

The memories of you dying in front of his eyes as the bitch who shall not be named blasted her magic straight to your chest.

He remembered how your whole body shook with resistance due to suddenly being hit with an elemental magic that is the opposite of you. Golden veins creeping up to your neck. Your eyes turning white. Your hair frying in the ends. He remembered it all.

He remembered how he was actually the one who insisted on you greeting the fucker (prince) and the bitch (Elysia). He naively thought that a closure was in motion.

He remembered how the guards, along with the prince, ordered for your arrest as a dark magic user. Elysia, smirking under her fan, woed about how the prophecy told her of how dark magic users are evil.

He remembered how he immediately fled from inside, running to your side, and hugging your comatose body. He remembered injecting so much dark mana into you so that you'll live. He remembered encasing the both of you with a barrier that no one can penetrate, and declared war then and there.

He remembered how his company became the sanctuary for dark magic users. He remembered how the top floors are converted to a hospital just to house you.

He remembered the pain, the agonizing, torturous pain he went through in order to achieve revenge on your stead.

He remembered blood. So much blood.

He was not the same anymore.

He remembered burning down the empire to the ground, walking in their blood as he carried your body to the throne.

So much happened, yet it felt like it wasn't enough.

And when he killed your comatose body and himself, and woke up regressed, he knew he had to save you.

He remembered seeing you alive and kicking again. It felt like a dream, crying into his bed, relieved.

Now, he's crying once more.

It's because he remembers everything.

He loves you, so much.

He swore in his last life that this would be his last with you.

The life where you are happy. The life in which you're not dead.

A life where you're not constantly being trampled on. A life where you're lifted up rather than being pulled down.

A life in which you're loved.

He's always been kind of an emotional mess since this life. But can you blame the man? He's been through so much for you.

But he will do it once again.

Not to prove himself.

Absolutely not. He doesn't care about himself.

But if it's for you, he will.

You're his beloved employee.

His love is extreme. He always knew this.

But why wouldn't a man bring the whole world to his beloved's feet?

Are they insecure? Do they think their beloved is not worthy?

Mixed frustrations welled up inside him once more.

He wiped his tears and sighed.

He doesn't want to do this, but if he wants to take revenge for you and offer the world to you, he will.

Hid gaze suddenly turned sharp and cold as he saw the Imperial carriage speeding to your gates. It seems that your... Ex fiance is desperate to get you back.

He once loved this guy as his best friend, but he's your tormentor. And he doesn't forgive tormentors. Your tormentors.

Dark tendrils leaked from the bottom of his well polished shoes, threatening to spike up and kill the prince who was yelling for you in front of the gates. Murderous intent leaking from his body as he cracked his neck and planned for an earlier war.

Heroes can sacrifice their love for the world,

But villains will sacrifice the world for their love.

#yandere boyfriend #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere writing #male yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere drabbles #lizzaneiaelizalde

[tropes-and-tales]

Obsession

Day 6  Voyeurism (Dave York x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Dave is creepy; voyeurism; smut (PiV, protected; between reader character and not-Dave); 18+ only.

Word Count:  2023

AN:  This was requested by the lovely @chemicalalice

It’s a feature of Dave York’s new neighborhood, how close the houses are to each other. 

His new neighborhood, rather:  after his divorce from Carol, his now ex-wife kept the house, so Dave took the opportunity to embrace a new beginning.  He moved from his McMansion in its suburban purgatory into a part of the city where the housing is more varied, closer together.

He buys a small Craftsman-style house, and he makes it his.  He settles into his new life.  Dave York’s Second Act.

He finds his rhythm.  Work, then home.  His daily run through the neighborhood.  His evenings with a scotch, unwinding on his couch in bad weather or on his back porch in good weather.  He has next to no back yard, but he can see where the original plat used to lie:  his house’s original carriage house had been subdivided into its own plot, and the former carriage house was converted at some point to a single family home.

Owned by you.  Occupied by you.

Dave noted you the day he moved in.  He noted all of his neighbors, everyone on his street.  He did surface-level searches on everyone—a hazard of his job, his perpetual distrust of everyone—but he dug a little deeper on you.

It’s been months now.  Dave and you are on polite terms.  You wave hello, call out “good morning” when he’s stretching for his run and you’re walking your dog.  Sometimes your mail gets switched because of the off-kilter numbering on your street.  That’s the extent of it, though.

Dave wonders how you’d react to everything he’s dug up on you.  There’s the obvious stuff, the wide-open social media profiles that give him a good idea of the type of woman you are.  There’s the professional website that shows your work history, your education.  Easy stuff that anyone could find.

But then there’s the stuff no one should be able to find.  The stuff that would probably horrify you, infuriate you, if you ever found out that Dave went spelunking for it.  He’s horrified, a little, at himself, but you’ve become something of a hobby to him.  An interesting puzzle to piece together.  Is it boredom, the long quiet nights without the noise of his family?  Post-divorce rebounding?  Stress relief from his job?  Who can say?

It’s a slippery slope from interested to obsessed.

It’s appallingly easy to hack your computer.  It’s easy to pick your front door lock while you’re at work and your dog is at doggy day care.  Easy to slip a monitoring program on your laptop, and since you have everything saved on the cloud, Dave has the bonus access to your phone as well.

It’s an obsession.  It’s all-consuming.  It’s a constant feedback loop of call and response:  Dave thinks of you, has the image of your float in his mind’s eye.  A moment later, he taps on his phone or laptop, pulls up his spyware, and can see what you’re doing.

Sometimes, you’re not using your phone at all.  Or your laptop.  Sometimes you must be otherwise engaged:  driving or eating a meal, or drinking with friends or walking your dog.  Those moments make Dave feel unsettled, irritated that you’re out of his sight, like the sun slipping behind a cloud and casting the earth in darkness. 

Then the delayed gratification when you’re back, the sun breaking through the clouds again.  You unlock your phone to log your meal—you track your food.  You unlock your phone and pull up a playlist, and he can picture you humming along to ‘90’s alternative or ‘80’s New Wave or old hair bands. 

You unlock your phone and read smutty stories on a website, and Dave reads along with you, sees the kinks you gravitate towards, and he thinks, “oh, you filthy little girl, the things I’d do to you.”

When your phone activity goes idle right afterwards, he can guess why. 

It doesn’t take a genius to see why his obsession grows.  Just a bit of boredom before, a way to pass time until Dave’s Second Act could really get going, yet now he thinks of little else, wants little else. 

His rhythm:  work, then home.  His daily run through the neighborhood.  His evenings with a scotch, unwinding on his couch in bad weather or on his back porch in good weather, the ghost of you beside him, behind him, in his head, hijacking every thought.  The real you, the flesh and blood you, so fucking close—mere yards away, if he’s on his back porch—but you may as well be on Jupiter.

You unlock your phone.  You open the dating app that is really just a hook-up app.  Dave watches on his own phone as you swipe left, swipe right, send opening salvos to men younger than him, but not by much.  He watches those men fumble, fail.  He sees the dick pics that come through, pathetic shots of ungroomed dicks with dirty laundry, unmade beds in the background.  He sees how politely you brush them off, how you return to the search and adjust the age brackets and the distance to cast a wider net.

Dave goes to bed that night and seethes at how unsure he finds himself.  He should make a move.  He should leave you alone. 

If he makes a move, he’ll definitely come on too strong.  His obsession will spill out and scald you with its intensity; he’ll scare you with how much he wants you already, how much he wants to own every part of you.  And Dave is like a wolf:  if you’re scared and run from him, he will want to chase you.

If he leaves you alone, though, will his obsession ever die off?  Will it wilt, then exhale quietly as it dies? 

-----

You unlock your phone.  You have a match on your hook-up app, and you and this guy—this Eric—text.  You make plans.

Dave watches from his darkened living room as you leave your carriage house.  Dress, heels, makeup.  Hair done up nice.

He seethes.  Your phone has little activity for most of the night.  Unlocked a few times, and photos of your dog pulled up.  You must be showing Nice Guy Eric pics of your dog.

Does Eric pay for your meal, or does he make you split the bill?  Does he lay his hand on your lower back, tantalizingly close to the swell of your perky ass?  Does he chance a look down your dress; does he lean in close to take in the scent of your soap, your perfume, your pheromones sparking at the male attention?

In the hours when you’re gone, Dave lays out an infinite number of possibilities.  Scenarios where Nice Guy Eric isn’t nice at all, and for some unknown reason you call Dave.  Dave York to the rescue.  Dave York scooping you into his arms, and when his obsession spills over, it doesn’t scald you at all because in this scenario, you’ve been obsessing over him too.

Stupid shit.  It’s stupid.  Dave is a grown man; he has a job and a mortgage and an ex-wife and children, for fuck’s sake, but he’s here mooning like a teenaged girl daydreaming over a boy band…

You unlock your phone.  You order a car.  Dave tracks the route from the city center as it gets closer to his home (your home), but when you climb out of the car, you aren’t alone.

Nice Guy Eric is with you.  He’s on your heels, his hands on your hips as you fumble with your keys, as you giggle when you try to unlock your door.  Nice Guy Eric spins you around, presses you against the door, kisses you.  Dave watches from the darkness of his living room, rages to see your hands as they settle on the back of Nice Guy Eric’s neck, on his waist as you kiss him back, then lead him inside your small home.

Dave cannot stop his feet from carrying him outside.  He leaves his porch light off, lurks in the darkness, and he knows exactly how it looks.  He knows exactly what it is.  It’s creepy, it’s borderline illegal, but he cannot stop himself.

His back porch overlooks your bedroom, and though you’ve drawn your blinds, they aren’t drawn tight.  Dave on his porch looking down into your room, and he can see you and Nice Guy Eric.  He watches as you and he spend long minutes on your bed, stretched out and making out, and Dave wishes it were his hands on you instead of this fucking idiot, because he’s touching you all wrong.  He’s groping you, there’s no finesse, and you deserve someone who knows what the hell he’s doing.

Dave doesn’t know where the wellspring of his anger comes from at this moment.  Is he furious because there’s another man in your bed, kissing you, fucking you?  Or is he furious because Nice Guy Eric is not making it good for you at all?

Because Nice Guy Eric is an idiot.  He spends no time seducing you.  He doesn’t sit back and admire you:  that amazing ass, those tits, all wrapped up in the prettiest pink lingerie Dave’s ever seen.  Nice Guy Eric doesn’t ease you out of it; he doesn’t push you back against a bank of pillows to put his mouth and tongue to you.  Nice Guy Eric has this opportunity to taste you, to tease you with his tongue and fingers, but he doesn’t take it.

His only foreplay is the making out, and then he’s rolling a condom onto himself, climbing on top of you.  It’s a paltry four, five pumps before he’s shuddering and then collapsing on top of you.

The asshole doesn’t even cuddle with you more than thirty seconds.  Nice Guy Eric may be nice in other ways, but he’s a selfish lover, and even Dave can see the blatant disappointment on your face as you see your date off.

-----

You unlock your phone.  You pull up your hook-up app.  Back to the drawing board, Dave guesses.

Dave is ready now.  He knows your parameters, and he’s tailored his profile to fall within it.  He’s paid the paltry amount to be featured—he already has a slew of matches, but there’s only one he wants.

He needs you to make the first move.  In whatever twisted logic is ruling this game of his, he needs you to make the opening gambit, to invite him in.

You scroll through your matches.  Dave watches in real time on his own phone, and he sees when you find him:  he pictures your thumb hovering over his profile, because you swipe neither right nor left for a long stretch.

You obviously recognize him.  You scroll through his profile, and Dave has been honest here.  No sense in lying, because you’ve probably seen the girls when they come over for their every-other-weekend visits.  No sense in pretending he’s not on his second act.

You scroll through the photos he’s uploaded, a few nice ones and one where he’s shirtless—an outdoors shot from when he ran a half-marathon last year, then shed his shirt afterwards, and he hopes you like his build, that you like the scatter of chest hair and the way his skin glows from the exercise and the sweat and the sun.

When you finally swipe right, Dave nods to himself, then smiles. 

*****

Your phone chimes, and you unlock it.  It’s a message on the dating app, and you send up a silent prayer that it’s not another dick pic.

Prayer answered:  it’s not a dick pic.  It’s a text message from the guy who lives in the house that’s at a weird angle to your house.  The runner who sometimes gets your mail.  He’s cute, so when he popped up in your possible matches, you matched with him and thought, “why not?  What’s the worst that can happen?”

His message asks if you’d like to grab dinner or drinks sometime.  “No pressure,” he’s typed out.  “I’d just like to get to know you better.”

#dave york #dave york imagine #dave york x reader #the equalizer 2 #kinktober 2023 #tropes and tales

[ilikefishfood]

1000 FOLLOWERS GIFT, PART I OF III

Hello everyone! **waves** I'm still here and loving on TS2, I just haven't had time to play or create in a long, looooong time. But I've finally gotten a fancy schmancy, new PC and the first thing I did was dive into my game. This three-part followers gift pales in comparison to previous ones due to time constraints, but I didn't want to put off making an offering any longer. So here goes...

THE COACH HOUSE

A Coach House or 'Carriage House' was built to house horse-drawn carriages and their related tack. This one has been converted to a three bedroom, two and a half bathroom tiny residential lot with a little yard for relaxing in the shade.

Details below the cut

3x2 Lot built with all EPs and SPs

Priced at $139, 650- Furnished and $139, 650- Unfurnished

For more pictures and details about the lot and CC click HERE.

IMPORTANT

Included in the zip file are a number of master meshes and Maxis recolours that must be in your download folder in order for the lot to display as it does in the pictures.

ADDITIONAL NOTES FOR THE INTERESTED: I use Curious B’s Default Roads and Ja-viera’s Skies with recolours by Keoni and Poppet

DOWNLOAD THE COACH HOUSE FURNISHED

DOWNLOAD THE COACH HOUSE UNFURNISHED

#the sims 2 #ts2 #ts2cc #residential lots #download #mine

[echo-goes-mmm]

Silas and Wren #2

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: brief mention of future non-con

The carriage ride back to his home was… awkward. Now that he had someone to talk to, what was there to say?

He had to encourage the slave to sit on the carriage bench and not the floor. The slave sat obediently, staring at the floor. 

“Is the wood so interesting?” Silas joked. The slave startled. 

“I’m sorry, Master,” said the slave, who wrapped his arms around himself.

“No, I mean-” Silas sighed. Off to a great start. “I’m sorry. I’m Silas. Do you have a name?”

“Only what you wish to call me, Master.” 

“Well, what did your mother call you?” The slave looked up at him, surprise on his face. He looked away, out the window.

“She called me Wren,” he said, wistful.

“Then that’s your name.”

“Oh! Thank you, Master.” Wren smiled at him, a tiny happy thing. He was pretty when he smiled. His freckles stood out more and they matched well with his reddish hair.

Silas noticed a mark on the back of Wren’s left hand. It was raised, a perfect circle with an S in the center. A brand. He searched his brain for a pleasant conversation topic. He didn’t want to think about it.

“Have you ever been over the border?” he asked.

“No, Master. I don’t know anyone who has.” 

“Oh. Well, it’s very nice. Lots of trees.” He could have smacked himself. ‘Lots of trees’? Really?

“Um, that does sound nice. I like trees.” 

They lapsed into silence again. Wren had taken to watching the countryside go by. 

Maybe things would go better at home.

___________________

He paid the driver and tipped well. The estate was small, compared to his family home, but Silas preferred ‘spacious’ over ‘enormous’. He didn’t need more rooms to emphasize that no one visited him.

He had converted part of the east wing into a kitchen and pantry for his human, and ordered plenty of food. Hopefully Wren wasn’t allergic to anything.

His home didn’t have many original widows, so he had a few made. He would just figure out a way to avoid them if he got a cold. 

Wren’s bedroom was also in the east wing. His was in the west. Silas didn’t want to intimidate Wren, so neighboring bedrooms wasn’t an option. 

He prayed Wren wouldn’t avoid him. He wasn’t sure if could stand the prospect of more rejection.

He led Wren to his bedroom, and his eyes were as big as saucers.

“This is all for me? Really?”

“Do you like it?” asked Silas, nervous. “I wasn’t sure about the color, but it could be painted again. And I could get you a different rug if you want. And anything else you want.”

“I- I don’t need anything else, Master. You don’t need to waste your money on me.”

“It’s not a waste,” said Silas. “I just want you to be comfortable.” He shifted a little. Wren looked like he was about to cry. 

___________________

It was all for him. The bedroom, the brand new kitchen and fully stocked pantry, he even got his own bathroom and shower. 

The door even had a lock on the inside. He could lock his Master out, even if only technically. Vampires were far stronger than a bit of copper.

He thought Master Silas was pretty scary, but maybe he wouldn’t be so bad. Wren had put up with a lot without all of these nice things. Surely having them would make whatever Silas wanted to do to him easier to bear. 

Master Silas’s house was so impressive, he could give a slave a room better than most Masters reserved for themselves. Dark wood panels, vivid wallpaper, a plush rug, and a full furniture set (including a couch!). 

The star of the room was the queen-sized four poster bed. He ran his hand over the comforter, almost afraid to touch it. It was so soft.

“I’m sorry,” said Master. “I didn’t buy you any clothes.”

Wren could have cried right then and there. 

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, Master,” he wiped his eyes, “I’m okay. Thank you.”

“Do- do you want to see the rest of the estate? Or we could play a game?”

A ‘game’ could mean anything, so the tour it was.

“I would like to see your house, Master.” Silas smiled at him. 

Master showed him the library (it was impressive, but Wren couldn’t read), a very nice sitting room, the drawing room, sun room, and finally Master’s own bedroom. 

Master’s room was large, and clearly meant for two. It was in what Master Silas called the ‘family wing’, but Wren hadn’t seen another soul in the house. There must be a maid service that he hired, because there was no evidence of servants despite the lack of dust and unpolished furniture.

Wren had never lived without at least a few people around him. He couldn’t talk much to free people, but he made friends with other slaves, even some servants. 

It would be an adjustment for him.

Master also showed him the garden, which was a little confusing. He thought vampires were burned by the sun. It was cloudy out now, but why bother with a beautiful garden when Silas could only enjoy it when the weather was bad? 

He could be wrong. After all, he was only a slave and not very smart. And people who avoided the sun didn’t have windows in their homes, much less in their own bedrooms.

But more importantly, when would Master Silas drink from him?

When would Master want to bed him?

taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @secretwhumplair @freefallingup13 @mylovelyme @whumpzone

#lore drop: vampires burn in the sun when they get sick or are otherwise unhealthy. Its very inconvenient. #like damn i got the flu and now a massive sunburn? why me #Silas and Wren #my writing #slavery whump #whump #vampire whump

[lorcandidlucienwill]

Five years after the destruction of the Inner Circle

Five years after the destruction of the Inner Circle, Lucien and Elain took over the Spring Court and Nesta and Eris took over the Autumn Court, Feyre's POV.

Feyre couldn’t believe the progress that had been made at the Night Court.

The Illyrians had several female generals now. The Court of Nightmares had been dissolved; Velaris was open for everyone to come live. Feyre had converted two of her homes: one had become an orphanage, the other had become a refuge for all domestic and sexual assault victims. A third house was currently being renovated into a homeless shelter. All in the span of five years.

Rhysand had claimed it impossible; that such change took decades, centuries even, due to their fossilized nature. Yet, Feyre had accomplished it in five years. Turns out, Rhysand was just an exceptionally shitty ruler.

Her mate. And husband.

It no longer hurt to hear his name, or the fact that he was dead. In her time of recovery, she went over all his actions and came to realize he was, in fact, far worse than Tamlin. That he had brought out a worse version of her. She had done horrible things while she was with him. She was ashamed; that couldn’t wholly be blamed on Rhysand. She had been complacent in it, doing all those horrible things, blocking out any criticism of her actions. In other words, she had been a wretch. But she was learning to forgive herself. It was an uphill battle, but one she was currently winning. Helping improve the lives of her people was really helping. As were her friends. The replacements for the “Inner Circle.” Only, there was no Inner Circle anymore. That group had only bred entitlement and mistrust. They had looked after their own interests but not of their people. That was no longer the case.

At least part of her guilt was assuaged by the fact that the Spring Court was now thriving. Lucien and his wife and mate, Elain, had been doing an incredible job. The Autumn Court was also a much better place under the rule of Nesta and Eris.

It was incredibly surreal. Once upon a time, they were just three little human girls in a tiny cottage, sleeping in one bed and wondering when their next meal would be. Now, all three of them were High Ladies ruling over different courts of the Fae. How far they had come. Two of them were married. Feyre had a baby. And Nesta was with child.

She was glad her sisters, at least, were in domestic bliss. They had found the perfect males. Feyre, on the other hand, had had the most despicable male in the world as her mate. It didn’t sting quite so much anymore. But sometimes, she wondered about what could’ve been.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Dierdre, her court overseer and a Valkyrie, walked over to her. She was a beautiful female, with large dark eyes and black hair so shiny it reminded her of the starlight pool back at the Spring Court.

“Just thinking about my sisters,” Feyre said.

Dierdre smiled. “They’re really amazing. Each of you is your own character, but all equally lovely.”

Feyre scowled. “Equally?”

Dierdre’s smile faded. She raised a brow at Feyre. “What is wrong with that?” And then something registered in her mind. “Oh. Oh.”

“What?” Feyre asked irritably. She watched as her young son played with a mini carriage set.

“Do you like me, High Lady?”

Feyre froze. It had been a while since her last relationship. Her past two had ended in a disaster. “Maybe.”

“I thought you were into males.”

“Who said I can’t be into both?” Feyre replied. “Besides, after my past two relationships, I’m rather tired of males.”

Diedre smirked. “But not females?”

Feyre shook her head, a bit breathless. Wow, she was really pretty. Her feelings for this female had crept up on her, but all of a sudden, they were fit to burst as surely as the Cauldron spit out her sisters. She had been there for her throughout the entire debacle of her husband dying. Elain had personally assigned her, and she had done an incredible job, pulling weight when Feyre was still not well.

“You’re a force,” Feyre said. “You’re the reason I’ve survived this reign.”

Dierdre blushed, shaking her head. “You’ve done an incredible job ruling, Lady. That’s all you.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Just shut up and kiss me already.”

Dierdre laughed. “As the lady wishes.”

I imagine after Tamlin and Rhysand Feyre is just sick of men and starts going after the women instead 😭 and who doesn’t want a valkyrie let’s be fr.

#pro feyre archeron #pro nesta archeron #pro elain archeron #pro archeron sisters #pro lucien vanserra #pro eris vanserra #vanzaddies #vanserra brothers #elucien #neris #feyre x dierdre

[moramaisis]

Characters: Ascended Astarion x tav tiefling Pairing: M/F Status: Happily evil together. In a stable relationship. Warnings: Heavy smut, murder, villain couple, dark romance, dark humor, unhinged horniness. Long story! Keywords: Mutual masturbation, hand job, rim job, oral sex, threesome, biting, vaginal sex, light dom/sub, light degrading, femdom, teasing. Notes: This is a third story....yeah.....it's sad. The brainrot is thriving. It's smut with a plot and i tried to world-build, though it might stray away from canon...a little. Ao3 Summary: After defeating the Elder Brain ascended Astarion and his tiefling bride decide to travel the world. The first place they visit is a town in the north with interesting pagan traditions. The couple gets bored after a while and Arsenia proposes they convert their first spawn. A certain elf of high class has caught her eye and the couple decides to seduce him.

After everything was over, it was time to move on. I said i didn't want to settle down and Astarion has been stuck for 200 years. Stuck in those 200 years. He wanted to see the world. I was used to travelling and could travel some more.

I said we could hang a map on the wall and throw daggers at it, see where fate takes us. He said i was too dramatic.

„I excelled in geography and i'm very good with daggers, my love. I couldn't make a random throw even if i was blindfolded.“

I said i will throw him at the map if he doesn't make a choice. So, we did the next best thing. We were staying at an inn, so, i went downstairs, snatched the most disheveled drunk and threw him at the map. He survived the encounter, but the mark left by his bloody nose was enough to start our quest. The location happened to be lovely as well. We were quite lucky, as it appeared.

Before leaving we had to make a one last trip to the Cazador's palace. Astarion gathered his mortal minions and gave them instructions to clean out the castle. There were a lot of gore leftovers in the dungeons. The castle had to be maintained while we were gone. A few days later we rented a carriage and left Baldur's Gate. I wore a suit topped with a long coat. I considered a dress, but decided against it. Astarion made sure that my suit was made from the best fabrics and finely tailored. I had never felt so fancy in my life. Our destination was a large town in the North, it was a place i have never been to.

As we approached our destination the landscape began to change dramatically. Dense forests encircled boulder fields, eroding cliff edges broke the surface of meadows coated in dead grasses. The closer we got, the whiter the earth became. One morning we opened the carriage curtains to witness falling snow. Air became colder, snow thickened. Soon we exchanged our carriage for a horse-drawn sleigh.

We entered the town coated in furs and blankets, with frosty eyelashes and visible breath. It was very different to the views we were used to, however, it was breathtaking. The streets were decorated with lanterns, evergreen branches hanging from doors and windows. Colorful ribbons and ornaments - woven from twigs, hay and carved from wood - adorned the greenery. We rented a small house near the wall and sat by the fireplace. The nights were long and short days heavily clouded. Every morning workers shovelled snow on the streets. Strange creatures of all sorts pulled sleighs around town, horses, furry horned beasts, odd deer-looking things. Even a couple pulled by dogs!

Daily walks became our routine, my hand in the crook of my lover's arm, both of us dressed in furs.

„I can't believe i killed 7000 spawn just to move to a place without the sun,“ Astarion groaned as we were walking between shops.

„What is your obsession with the sun? Do you want a fucking tan?“

„I'd look great with a tan, you must admit,“ Astarion smiled amusedly.

„You look good in anything, beloved,“ i teased him. „I like it here. It's beautiful, peaceful, the air smells fresh…“

„That's because the sewers are frozen, my love.“

“That certainly helps,“ i smirked, gazing up at the sky as flashes of color snaked across the darkness. „Look up. You can't see that in Baldur's Gate.“

Astarion turned his eyes to the sky and we both watched the Northern Lights in silence.

“I have seen these before. Back when i used to travel and work as a blade for hire. I always wanted to see them again.“ I fought back distant memories, now that time has passed a dusting of bittersweetness coated them. Astarion caught on to that.

“Is that longing in your voice that i hear ?“

“Maybe“, i sighed.

Astarion turned to face me and took my hands. „Sounds like you're missing your former life filled with danger and adventure. We don't have to carry on like this, you know. Pretending to be an honorable married couple. We're on vacation, after all. We can do whatever we want.“

I squeezed his hand, bringing it close to my heart. „You're so sweet that you're making my teeth rot. I don't want to spoil our fun. I love travelling with you and i need a vacation. It's just…i liked my job. New day, new person to find, a new skull to smash. There were ups and downs, for sure, and i don't miss working for assholes…but….i feel like an impostor. We don't quite fit in, do we, love?“

He liked my train of thought, it was safe to say he felt the same.

“I always knew you're a thrill-seeker, it's one of the many things i love about you. So, tell me, what twisted little ideas are festering in that demented brain of yours?“

My smirk grew wider, menacing and flirty. „Too early to say. The city needs exploring. But, lover, you'll be the first to know.“ I reached out and twirled a curl of Astarion's hair, then ran my hand down the front of his coat possessively. I have always been very…tactile. „Lets pay less glamorous parts of this city a visit, shall we?“

“Excellent choice, my treasure. Lets remember the good old times.“

We walked to the poor section of the town. Buildings were smaller here, still in good condition, but visibly older. It was like going back in time. People walking past us were also dressed simply, mainly wearing goat or sheep skin coats. Astarion spotted a lively pub and we entered the rustic, dimly lit building. We took a seat near the back and gave a lovely maiden, who approached our table, the order. Coins were exchanged and our drinks arrived soon. Astarion got himself a cup of wine, while i took some ale. Both locally brewed, with unusual spicy additives, and pretty good!

The buzz hit me quickly and i relaxed on the bench. We were eavesdropping and the conversations were exactly what you'd expect to hear in a pub. Although, one peaked my interest. It was held by a two men behind a corner table. The taller man was chewing on some dried meat, while the stouter one was downing his ale.

“The solstice is coming, i promised my daughter a new skirt. She will be taking part in the celebrations, doing the ritual. It's not proper to show up in a patched dress. She wants to impress someone, she said,“ spoke the taller man.

The other nodded in a daze. „I will be at home. Marena will be working.“

“Working during celebrations?“

The stout man sighed, „She's working at the house of Anvegg now. She's in the kitchen and the fancy folk are having a ball. All the big noses will be there.“

“Right, right. It's not posh enough to celebrate amongst the commoners.“

I scraped my claw on the table, it was our sign that i was interested. Astarion looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Felt an urge to mingle with high society? Although, crashing a ball would be an act of rebellion in itself. These kind of things are usually invitation only.“

“I think the house of Anvegg is one of the oldest elf families ruling this town.“ This town had more elves and half-elves than any other race. It was quite diverse otherwise, except for humans. It would be curious to see the forces behind this place. Especially as old as these.

Astarion's eyes unfocused, he was somewhere else for a second. „Hmm, Cazador had spawn for these kinds of activities. Prowling around crowded places, hiding in dark alleyways, sharpening fangs on unwilling necks…“

“…and look where it got him. Tigers who don't hunt become lazy. And overconfident.“ I filled the pause, spitting venom at that lost name.

Astarion smirked, he seemed to experience a special kind of joy each time i bad-mouthed his former master. I liked to indulge him, but he knew i was right. I wasn't going to let my lover become stagnant, he was mine and i will look after him.

“It does feel nice being back in the trenches,“ he admitted. „Watching the events unfold, being in control.“

I touched his hand, my face hidden by shadow. My touch was passionate as i played with his fingers. I wanted to reassure him, bring him some peace of mind. Every time he mentioned his former master i felt a violent impulse to cuss out Cazador. However, his reminiscing was becoming more frequent. After the ritual his confidence was soaring, just mentioning his former master's name could send him into rage. Time passed and he started to change. He began mentioning his spawn life again. Something about that filled me with sadness and a carnal desire to comfort him.

“Control is everything, my darkest desire,“ i lulled a song of seduction.

His response was fiery, his hand caressed mine as he leaned over the table.

“You are right, my little dragon,“ his tone carried a similar amount of allure.

“We need more information about the upper echelon, if we proceed.“ I tilted my head, a plan already brewing.

“I love seeing you scheme. The wickedest ideas rise from the depths of that deviant little mind of yours, especially when you look at me like that.“

“Call my mind little one more time and i'll fuck you right on the spot.“ There was a threat hidden in my lustful whisper. My tease carried the intensity of the sun.

“You're making it very hard to stop, my little love.“

His eyes burned me and i felt an urge to make him scream. It sent shivers down my spine. I would never say that to him – it would be simply too cruel - but Cazasor was right when he said his screams sounded sweet. Besides, i didn't want to give him the wrong impression. His suffering did bring me pleasure, but only if it led to delight. And bringing him delight was equally arousing to me. I adored messing with his head. My love has always been toothy and bloodstained. It was understandably too much for the majority, that's why my list of lovers was so short. I think he was attracted to my duality.

“Go on, try me.“ My voice challenged him.

Astarion snatched my jaw and pulled me closer. Our eyes met, holding a staring contest. A tingle danced between my legs. His thumb brushed over my lips, repeating the motion after reaching the corner of my mouth. I parted my lips and bit his thumb. His eyebrows furrowed as he gasped from pain.

“You're fucking feral…mmm, i'm glad i made you mine.“ He leaned to kiss me and the crowded room melted away, there was nobody else but us. The spot between my legs moistened and throbbed in yearning. I grabbed the back of his head and sat up in my seat. Astarion broke our kiss.

“We should find a more private place,“ he said.

I took his hand and pulled him up, we swivelled the tables and escaped into the snowy streets. He led me down a narrow street, snow crunching under out boots, and we stopped in a passage between two buildings. Conveniently, there were no windows. Astarion pushed me against the worn stone wall and unbuttoned my coat. I lifted my leg and he pressed it to his waist. Our kiss was raw. His hand made its way down my pants, i throbbed and let him play with myself. His hand was stroking my folds, drawing circles around my bud. It was wonderful, i could do anything when i felt like this.

I began opening his coat, then his pants. My hand clenched his member, toying with it like it was my treat. His breath quickened as his hips thrust into my hand. I started kneading his length, finishing each motion with a tight squeeze at the base of his shaft. He was my plaything and couldn't keep my hands off him. It was driving him crazy and he repaid me by pushing his fingers inside me. My silky walls clenched around him and he thrust his fingers into me. It was blissful!

My hand clamped around my lover's member, kneading it upwards. Once i reached the tip i pulled aside his skin and circled the head. Astarion shuddered and dug into the crook of my neck, his fangs meeting my skin. I arched my back, welcoming the bite. It turned me on like nothing else, electrified the tips of my nerves. Asatrion knew it well. He released my neck and dragged his tongue down my skin, only to suddenly bite me again. I undulated against him, moaning from delight. My fingers were swirling delicate patterns into the tender head of his member. He thrust his hips, looking for some kind of friction to end my tease.

I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. I removed my hand from his length and slipped it under, caressing his balls, then moved deeper down to stroke the tender skin around his rear entrance. Astarion exhaled with pleasure, his hot breath wafting over my neck. His fingers were moving at a steady pace inside me, my wetness dripping down my thigh. It was wonderful and i didn't want it to end, not yet.

My fingers stroked him, giving him a delicate rim job. I could feel him clenching under my touch, his breath quickened and his teeth sunk into my shoulder. The pleasure was building inside me, i would finish soon if he let me.

„Slow down your fingers, just a little,“ i mumbled in his ear.

Astarion was kissing and nipping my neck, his hand complied with my request. Meantime, i was caressing his back entrance, pushing a finger into his tight bundle of muscle, then easing down. He was heaving his hips in unison with my fingers, his fully hard member brushing against my arm, smearing precum on my skin.

We spent a while like rutting animals, grunting against the cold wall. Then i removed my hand and he pulled down my pants. It didn't take any effort to slide inside me. I exhaled in ecstasy, grasping at his clothing, awaiting him to speed up his hips. He did exactly that, unwilling to wait any longer. He fucked me right there, in the snow, my hands clenching is ass. The orgasm was delicious and my vampire lord finished soon after, my clenching silkiness driving him over the edge.

Next day we had to go out during the working hours. The sky was heavily clouded by gray, wide snowflakes were falling from the sky. I took us to a bookshop, it was a beautiful room filled with dark wood. I introduced us as traveling merchants who are looking into expanding our business. The shopkeeper was a sweet woman, who took kindly to my conversation. Of course, our fancy clothing and furs helped to sell the illusion. I bought a book about local poetry and asked about the city. The woman told us everything we wanted to know. It appears there were three major houses who ruled the city. Three big elven families who had formed a council.

I also asked about the celebrations. She told me about the winter solstice and the goddess of death and cold. They held huge celebrations each winter, when the night was the longest. It was a local deity, whose familiars haunted the barren winter lands. We were lucky, the solstice was happening very soon.

We enjoyed the town until that day. Explored streets, buildings. I rented a sleigh and we drove around like royalty. Locals were skiing in the hills and ice skating on frozen lakes. I bought some skates and tried it out. It was a lot harder than it looked, but my vampiric reflexes helped. I wanted to experience as much as i could. Surprisingly, i managed to get Astarion to try out ice skating too. It was amusing to no end seeing a vampire lord on ice. I was so proud of him, although it took some convincing. In the end we managed to explore the frozen lake together, holding hands like the cheesiest old couple.

Two young girls passed us. I heard one say that were were adorable and she hopes to be just like us when she grows old. I almost turned around and ripped their heads off but Astarion stopped me.

The day of the solstice citizens lit candles on their windows. The day itself was incredibly short, the night, however, lit by golden lights. We heard the commotion from our house. People were wearing masks and clothing in bright colors, chanting and singing. Many masks depicted skulls, decorated with ribbons and runes. It was the night to execute our plan. I wore a dress with a tight bodice – that gave be excellent cleavage – and a huge skirt. Astarion dressed in an elaborately decorated suit. We had no chance entering through the main doors without unwanted attention, so we had to sneak in. While inside we had to look the part, so we fluffed our feathers like a pair of peacocks.

We put on our fur coats and hired a sleigh to take us to the upper city. My jewelry felt cold and heavy against my chest and neck. It was a freezing cold. We sneaked as close to the Anvegg palace as we could, but the streets were crowded by sleighs. People were waiting in a queue to pass through huge metal gates. The palace itself was magnificent, resembling a castle. Its architecture was elegant and detailed. We spotted guards everywhere and had to sneak along the palace wall. After careful inspection we decided to climb over the wall behind the palace gardens. The guards were pacing along the wall, but since it was so long they were fairly spaced out.

Astarion shapeshifted into mist and flew up the wall, there he snapped the neck of the nearest guard and threw him into the garden's evergreen bushes. I – being a sorcerer after all – conjured a spell that allowed me to fly. From there we jumped down and hid behind the bushes. Astarion called forth a fog and it blanketed the palace like a tender curtain. We snuck in through the palace backdoor, but not before casting a spell of invisibility upon us both.

We made our way to the ballroom and stood at the back. The scene was a sight to behold. Elves and races of different kind were dressed to impress. The room was adorned by evergreen branches, lanterns, candles and decorations made of crystal. The latter reflected light in different colors, creating prismatic speckles on the walls. Drinks flowed freely, a table with light foods and desserts was under arched columns. Musicians were playing a fast-paced, but oddly melancholic, tune. Nobody was dancing yet, people were exchanging pleasantries, still entering.

“Looks like we got here too early,“ Astarion noted.

“Bollocks, i'll fetch us some drinks.“ I dodged people masterfully to get us two glasses. The drinks were spicy, but very good.

“So, this is how the upper crust parties in this piece of the world? Is this what you expected?“

I glanced around and sipped from my glass. „Yes and no. With the masks and sad music there better be a sacrifice coming.“

I found it odd that although all the townsfolk was masked, no one in the ballroom was wearing one.

“The nobles have too much money and status to hide their face. Just showing up here is a sign of success. Why hide that?“ Astarion spoke, tasting his drink. I think he noticed me glaring at people.

The ballroom was filling up and the song changed, still melancholic. Soon a chime of bells echoed in the hall. People's murmur quieted down and a figure appeared on a balcony above the crowd. It was a handsome finely-dressed elf.

“Dear guests, beloved neighbors, and those who had to make a long journey to get here, i welcome you in the house of Anvegg. I'm lord Ronegard Anvegg and this palace has been the heart of our family for more than 500 years. Ever since it was built, it has been welcoming to guests and hosting a winter solstice ceremony to ward off dark spirits of the cold and thank the winter goddess Lendera. This year we have something special prepared. But, until then, let us dance and drink like the sun will never rise! We shall honor the eternal night!“

The crowd cheered. Lord Ronegard smiled and raised his glass, then continued.

“To those who are new, i'd like to present my family. My beautiful wife Ereida. „

A stunning woman walked forth, taking her husband's hand. She wore a gown with a long train, jewelry and a headdress. The crowd sheered again.

“Be warmed by the light of Anvegg's palace. Friends will always find a refuge here,“ she said, her voice like a song. By the whispers it became clear she was greatly loved and admired.

Lord Ronegard spoke again, holding his wife's gentle hand, “this is my oldest son, Obreon!“

An elf nodded at the back of the balcony, while making a step forward, surrounded by his siblings who were waiting to be presented. My eyes snapped onto him and never left. I don't think i have seen such a face in a long time, the noble modesty and elegant movements crowned him in excellence. He was stunning, long white hair that glimmered in light blue, dark gray eyes, sensual lips. The handsome elf was wearing a suit in gray and blue colors, silver rings and an elegant silver headdress.

“….Obreon is a skilled dancer, sorcerer and talented musician.“

The named son kept an impassive face, but his mask cracked as a glimmer of annoyance sparked in his eyes. He stepped back into the row and his father proceeded to present his other children, two sons and three daughters – all equally gorgeous. My eyes were glued to Obreon. I recalled what the bookshop keeper told me. Anvegg family were powerful sorcerers, who wielded old magic, kept magical artifacts and had fought battles for this city.

There was something about him that i couldn't comprehend, something magnetic, something familiar. I wanted to possess him. Add him to my collection. Break him, make him kneel. Desire and violence mixed in my twisted head.

I turned to Astarion and whispered in his ear, “you wanted an army of spawn. Have you though about turning somebody?“

“Who do you have in mind?“ He lowered his head curiously.

“How about the oldest son of the Anvegg family?“

Astarion looked up at the balcony, eyes narrowing. He noted the white hair, his overall visage and raised an eyebrow, snickering loudly. „You clearly have a type. Taking the son of a powerful family will blow our cover, not to mention put a target on our backs, my treasure. Maybe you should make another choice?“

My tongue thrashed, rubbing against the back of my teeth, an animal trying desperately to escape its cage. Astarion was right, it was a huge risk, but i couldn't stop thinking about it. The more i entertained the idea, the more i liked it. My hand slid up his chest, stopping on his shoulder.

“It will be dangerous, but if we play our cards right this might become our secret weapon,“ i whispered in his ear.

“You love this city, if we make ourselves the public enemy we'll have to leave.“

I glanced at the balcony, the noble family were slowly disappearing, probably going down the stairs to join the ballroom. I knew this, i didn't feel like leaving, not yet. The danger of this idea, however, had a hold on me, it made me tingle.

My lips were almost touching Astarion's ear as they formed a breathy purr, “imagine, the beloved son of this city as your spawn…listening for you, being your eyes…the most powerful house would stand at your feet. There won't be a better way to infiltrate.“ My siren song tickled his neck, wafted curls of hair across his skin.

“You'd have to use your master's restraint on him…maybe spice it with some spells. As long as he doesn't talk, who will rat us out? We're the heroes of Baldur's Gate, remember.“

He turned to look at me, our faces almost touching. “You know how to be convincing, but be honest with me, why did you pick him?“

“He would make a great plaything, in more ways than one. Can't give you a solid reason, my darkest desire. It's just instincts.“

Astarion chuckled victoriously, his voice sweet and sedative. „So that's how it is then? My treasure has finally started shopping for some bedroom furniture? You started quite late, i expected someone with your appetites to begin a lot sooner.“

“Maybe he won't be any good at all. For his own sake, he better be. Do you like him? If the sands of time ran backwards, and you were standing in a dark alleyway, would you have taken someone like him?“

He paused, looking out into the crowd. The noble family had entered the room, scattering to greet their guests, old and new.

“I had low standards in my former life. He's the sort you'd rarely find in one. Had i met him back then…well…“ he drawled, voice cracking, eyes locked to something in the distance, „he would have certainly caught my eye.“

I smiled, it was all i wanted to hear.

“He looks like he could be your son….or a long lost relative. Maybe fathered in the bushes of some lost elven kingdom,“ i teased.

Astarion snorted with amusement, „Not all elves look the same, you know. It's flattering, but don't ascribe me any children, i assure you, i have none. I'm one of a kind.“

“We'll have to wait until he's alone. This greeting ceremony will go on for a long time.“

So we waited, crawling around the ballroom like shadows, waiting and watching. Guests started making merry, cups were filled and couples danced. I pulled Astarion to an empty hallway and took his waist.

“Excuse me, noble sir, will you spare me a dance?“ I was feeling playful and the night was simply too good waste. The fast-paced melancholic music echoed in the hallways, bouncing off high ceilings and candelabras. Astarion held my hand, whilst enchanting me with an elegant bow.

“It would be a pleasure, my lady.“ He placed a hand on my waist and i took the long train of my skirt into my hand, we started swirling around in a light-footed dance. We were ghosts haunting this castle, invisible yet present.

The night went on and soon another chime of bells wafted through air. It was Ronegard Anvegg standing on the steps of an elaborate staircase.

“Dear guests, it's time to witness the ritual and fulfil the hunger of winter's ghosts. Please, proceed to the inner garden, our servants will lead your way.“

Servants in fancy clothing and holding lanterns stood near the main doors. A flow of guests began moving outside, where more servants lit their way. The night was cold, a light sprinkling of snow descending from the sky. The winter moon hung low, enormous like a bulging eye. The passage of guests, who had put on their coats and gloves, was travelling to the garden located in the inner circle of the castle. We followed, still cloaked by the invisibility spell. It was a joyful trip, full of murmur and excited conversation. I had a strange anticipation in my chest, the thrill of something great and menacing igniting my nerves.

The crowd gathered in an open area with a frozen fountain at the back and evergreen trees surrounding the space. There was a tall stack of dry wood and hay in the center of the arena, decorated with red ribbons. Two dead hares were placed on each side, adorned with fresh flowers. Lord Anvegg walked in front of it, his family kept to the side of the funeral pyre.

“Some of you know these lands well, while some have not yet had the time to become acquainted. These lands are bountiful in summer, yet deadly in winter. For centuries locals held rituals to make wintertide a safer time. Before, the hungry ghosts of Lendera's familiars roamed the lands, hunting people down, spilling blood. Venturing outside was not safe, going into the woods was deadly. Only by appeasing the winter soul have we gained safety and freedom.“

Ronegard gestured to his servants and they carried something to the arena. It was a tall bundle, tightly bound by colorful ribbons. The servants carried it to the stack of kindling and rested it against the wood. It stood up, now vaguely human shaped.

“Each winter solstice we give the winter's kiss a sacrifice, usually we choose someone from the town's prison. Someone worthy of death. This year, however…“ He raised his hand elegantly and a servant lifted a flap of fabric from the top of the bundle. A pale face emerged, eyes wide open, cheeks glistening with tears. A gasp travelled through the crowd, some were snickering.

“Tonight we are giving away one of our own. Some of you know him as Florian Denere, an elf who worked for the council. It was discovered he had been selling our information and filling his pockets with our gold. A betrayal is an act worthy of death in these parts, we keep close to survive and there simply isn't any room for those who put themselves above everyone else. Today, we shall give him to the winter hounds!“

His last words turned into an ecstatic yell, making the crowd cheer and clap. The sacrifice stared at the crowd, sweat running down his face, unable to speak as his lips were sewn shut. A servant brought Ronegard a torch and he placed in onto the kindling. The fire catched on and started to spread, a yellow glow reflecting in the terrified eyes of the sacrifice. He seemed paralysed by some potion, the only part animated being his eyes, those were nearly bulging out of his head, staring at the fire that was creeping closer to his feet.

Ronegard lifted a cup and yelled out into the night, „goddess of winter, ruler of death, take thy offering and stay benignant to our people. This soul is yours!“

The crowd screamed out in bloodlust, though some were averting their eyes in horror. I was spellbound by this sudden act of violence, my eyes taking in every movement, every scent and sound. The hair on my neck stood up, the energy of this ritual was unmatched. The sacrifice's eyes reflected a golden orange as the flames swept over him, he was engulfed in seconds, the fabric soaked in something flammable. My hand reached out for Astarion, grabbing his hand into mine. He squeezed me in return. Coming here was worth it after all.

“What an unexpected turn! The noble family is a lot more unhinged than i imagined! Bloody human sacrifices for old forgotten gods, how quaint! I have to admit, Ronegard knows how to throw an unforgettable party. I think some guests will be revisiting the highlight of this event in their nightmares,“ Astarion laughed, enjoying the performance as much as i did. The stench of burning human hair and flesh washed over the guests. It was so revolting that many covered their noses, some retched.

Ronegard was standing motionlessly and gazing into the flames, captivated by the sparks rising up into the night sky. Or maybe there was something else he saw in the fire? His eyes were oddly absent. He woke from his stupor and turned to guests with a wide smile.

“Dear guests, i'm asking you to go back inside. The ritual is over and it's getting rather unpleasant.“

He left the scene surrounded by servants who began guiding the crowd inside. The Anvegg family was last to move, they exchanged a few glances and haste words, then dispersed into the darkness. All but one – Obreon, he stared into the fire for a few more minutes, then began slowly sauntering to the castle. I nudged Astarion, it was our chance! I removed the invisibility spell. We had found a secluded spot away from the crowd, near the evergreen trees, where we could remain undisturbed.

“I want you to approach him first,“ i whispered. „Get a feeling for him, then introduce me.“ „Keen on watching, are you?“ He was joyous, eyes glinting from the anticipation of a challenge. „You always liked to see me at work. Don't forget to blink, darling.“

He was teasing me, but not too far from the truth. My eyes were fixated on our target, predatory, merciless.

Obreon didn't see him coming. Astarion just popped out from the dark void, that was this night, making the elf wince.

„What a powerful performance! It's going to be the talk for days to come. Not to mention a masterfully crafted exposition of a warning.“

The surprise on Obreon's face dissipated, replaced by formal coldness. „Excuse me, i don't think we've been introduced?“

„That is entirely our fault. We had to undertake a very long journey to get here and exprienced a few delays. We were late, but lucky enough to see the main event.“

„Oh, i'm sorry to hear that. It explains why i didn't see you at the dance.“ Obreon's demeanor seemed to soften up a little.

„You have an extraordinary memory, Lord Anvegg. How many people were there? A few hundred?“

„It's more of a curse, really,“ Obreon sighed. „I wanted to take a little walk, you may join me, if you don't mind the cold.“ The two began slowly encircling the gardens, snow crunching under their feet.

“I couldn't help but notice your disapproval during the ceremony. Were you close with the burning man?“ Astarion's question was blunt, yet not carrying any kind of accusations.

Obreon looked up in to the sky, the snowfall was becoming denser.

“I dearly hope it wasn't that obvious. Yes, i knew him. At one point i may have called him a friend, but it was a long time ago. In the council everybody knows each other. It was a shock to find out what he had been doing.“

Astarion sensed that the elf had nobody to talk to about the loss. It was an open door.

“It's always the ones who we least expect that tend to surprise us. My condolences for the loss of your friend.“

Obreon thanked him with a tired, yet grateful smile. “I will be fine. He knew what he was risking. The council has always been ruthless to traitors.“

“So you're telling me, private executions are widely practiced in these parts?“

“Private – only on special occasions. Public – not anymore. I'm guessing you outsiders think it's barbaric.“

“Not really, if the sacrifice is a criminal, then does it truly matter what kind of a punishment they receive? At least they're spending their last moments doing something useful. Or do you think otherwise?“

Obreon moistened his lips while admiring the castle. Snow was building on his head and coat.

“I would be a hypocrite to say that i care about the sacrificed. The dangers my father spoke about are very real. Townsfolk used go missing during wintertide, then be found ripped apart. The messengers of the goddess howled and scratched behind closed doors. People were scared to go into the forests, to go outside at night. Although, attacks happened during daytime, too. These are a necessary measure. A life has to be given, a thinking feeling being, such is the law.“

“Ah, gods love exercising their unyielding power, often as a detriment to their own worshippers. Are there any more human sacrifices planned in your yearly calendar? I can free up a spot in my schedule.“ Astarion's voice dropped flirtatiously. It worked as Obreon smiled.

“Not this kind. We celebrate summer solstice, but only sacrifice animals and wine during the ceremony. Some may sacrifice their virginity, but that's up to the gods of luck to decide.“ Obreon stopped and turned to look at Astarion. „You didn't say your name. It's not fair since you know mine.“

“I'm lord Astarion Ancunin and there's someone i'd like you to meet.“

“It's a pleasure, though, i haven't heard your name before.“ Obreon followed Astarion, who was leading them towards the row of evergreen trees.

“It's to be expected, i've led a rather secluded lifestyle and made my debut recently.“

I was watching from the bushes in silent awe, the plan had worked out perfectly. Astarion was enchanting to observe, his performance truly noteworthy. I could never get tired of this. He was good at what he did best – seducing. Cazador, you bastard, you made the perfect monster.

Astarion's hand reached out for me, parting the snow coated branches, and i gave him mine. He guided me out of the shadows, where i could see Obreon up close for the first time. He didn't disappoint, still as magnetic as when i first saw him, only now he wore a cautiously furrowed brow.

“This is my consort, my love and my partner in crime – Arsenia.“

I smiled, trying to not scare the elf with my intense staring. I stretched out my hand, as was customary. He took it gently and brought it to his lips. It was a gentle kiss, i barely felt any warmth. I caught his gaze and smiled. Obreon's eyes stayed on mine for longer than was decent.

“I apologize for stalking you in the bushes, but i was dying to meet you.“

Obreon was amused, „it seems i walked into an ambush. You must be freezing, you had to wait a long time for me.“

“I don't mind the cold, especially on a night like this. The gardens are beautiful, i went on a stroll.“

It was so difficult not to stare, i tried my best to soften my expression, but the hunter in me was enthralled by the chase. I was hyper-aware of myself, the air and the falling snow. I felt alive! There has always been a predatory aspect to my being, which was amplified by me becoming a vampire spawn. No, a vampire bride. I had tasted my lover in more ways than one. He had given me his blood. I was truly free to unleash my horrors into the world.

Obreon sensed the energy, there was no way for it to be unnoticed, it crackled through the air like distant lightening, filling the air with the scent of ozone. I doubt he understood what it meant, yet he was enticed. The elf's gray eyes darted from Astarion's smug smirk to my alluring little smile. My eyes were full of unspoken promises. Calling to him, inviting him to take part of unfathomable pleasures. Astarion's act was unmatched, he was spellbinding and gentlemanly.

“The gardens are one my favorite places, too. It's even more beautiful during the summer when everything is in bloom,“ Obreon said.

“It's also very private, i noticed. A lot of alcoves to hide in.“ My voice was silky smooth, brimming with temptation.

Obreon looked down shyly, a playful smile lingering on his lips. “It's by design. Many unions have been formed in this greenery.“

“I imagine many confessions of love, as well. This maze of green is built for the lecherous whispers of lovers and their hastened breaths,“ Astarion noted, his voice becoming deep and seductive.

We started moving, walking slowly between the snow-capped trees and bushes, many of which still held on to their berries. White pearlescent drops peeked out from the snow. As we were ambling the gardens Astarion drifted to Obreon's left side, while i kept to his right. He was cornered, the poor thing didn't even have a clue. Or did he? Perhaps he was waiting for a special kind of treat?

Obreon nodded with amusement. „If it was warmer these paths would be filled with guests. I'm ashamed to say that i have seen lifted skirts and bare thighs on more occasions than i dare to admit. My family turns a blind eye, as long as the guests are content.“

Astarion leaned closer. „Have you ever thought about joining one of them?“ His tone was controlled, yet flirtatious.

Obreon was impressed and entertained by his bluntness. “I have received a few invitations over the years, but none of them enticed me.“ The elf glanced at Astarion playfully.

I wrapped my arm around his bicep, caressing the silky fabric with my fingers. “It was brave to admit that, but it would be even braver to explain why.“

Obreon turned to look at me, our eyes met and his gaze travelled down to my lips, then to my cleavage, before bouncing back up. I let him know i caught him staring, he could look if he wanted to. I certainly didn't hide my wandering stare. My glowing tiefling eyes ran down his delicious frame, stopping briefly at his crotch.

Obreon gulped, „i'm very selective when it comes to that. There wasn't any chemistry between the us, or there wasn't enough of it.“

Astarion looked at him intensely. „Having high standards is paramount in these times, but especially to a person of your importance. Do entertain us, how do we measure up to your desires?“

Obreon's cheeks flushed, he gathered himself and looked in Astarion's eyes. „Are you going to make a proposal?“ The question was soft and quiet, more of a whisper.

“Would you like to get one?“ I squeezed his bicep, coming to a kissing distance of his lips.

Obreon smiled anxiously, his breath quickened. He stopped the walk. Large flakes of snow were gliding from the sky. It was so still and peaceful outside. The elf was firmly pressed between us, cornered like a deer by a pack of wolves. Yet, he didn't seem to want to run.

“Maybe,“ Obreon whispered lustfully.

I brushed his long hair out of the way and kissed his neck. Obreon closed his eyes, inhaling slowly, blissfully. Astarion touched Obreon's jaw to turn his face and kissed him on the lips. Obreon accepted the kiss eagerly, melting into position. He moved his hand to Astarion's neck, holding him gently.

I wrapped my arms around the elf, allowing them to wander shamelessly. My kisses on his neck were demanding, my tongue made an appearance and licked his soft skin. He tasted of nothing, maybe with a barely noticeable flavor of salt. His hair was silky soft, a lot of care went into it's upkeep for sure. I played with it, letting it slide between the tender flesh of my fingers.

Having him in our arms was victorious, the aloof prince at our mercy. The pretty man in a lion's den. I watched him kiss my beloved one, the scene made my heart beat faster. It was unusually satisfying to see my lover in action from a bystander's point of view. I could fully appreciate his beauty only when observing him from afar. Well, not afar in this case. I was still up close.

Astarion's lips moved in a hypnotizing way. They were soft, skilled and deadly. Those very lips that brought me pleasure were now making someone else sigh lustfully. I heard Obreon, i couldn't be fooled. I watched, tilting my head to catch every minute detail. The place between my legs tingled, becoming tender and responsive to every movement and friction. I needed to see Obreon flinching, his body was a plaything i wanted to engage.

I pressed my hand against Obreon's crotch and felt him through the fabric. He winced, gasping from the pleasant surprise. I rubbed him through the clothing and he thrust into my hand. This sent waves of pleasure up my body. I cupped his face and snatched him from Astarion, then kissed him passionately. Obreon let me inside his mouth, let me play with his tongue, while his hand touched my breasts that were mischievously bulging out from by bodice.

Suddenly, i felt a brush of wind on my neck. It was Astarion, he stood behind me, kissing my neck and nipping my skin. My pussy throbbed, eager to be touched. He caressed my shoulders, his fingers were running down my back, squeezing my waist. It was fantastic and i channeled that into the body in front of me – Obreon.

My hand was stroking him harder and faster, making the elf squirm underneath me, his kisses became more savage. I unbuttoned Obreon's trousers and slipped my hand into his undergarments, his erect cock fitting perfectlty into my fist, burning it with heat. Obreon moaned out loud, his hips bucking into my hand, begging to get off. I began stroking him, pausing to play with him like i saw fit, teasing him, edging him.

Meantime, Astarion was decorating my shoulder blades with toothy kisses, finally lifting up my skirts to touch me. His hand fluttered to my crotch and slipped a finger into my wetness, gently rubbing my swollen bud. I never wanted him to stop. His finger glided over my bud so delightfully, every stroke sending flickers of pleasure up my nerves. I uttered a blissful growl, the wetness dripping down my thigh. Then his hand started rubbing me in circles and i felt ecstatic! My hips started moving on their own, helping the orgasm build. My swollen bud was overly sensitive and the epicentre of my current state. I broke Obreon's kiss, my head tilted back in ecstasy.

All this time i made sure my hand in Obreon's pants never stopped for a second. The noble elf was watching us now, eyes darkened by deviant, perverted lust. He was breathing heavily, lips parted, tongue slithering behind the white cages of his teeth. He lunged forward and kissed Astarion over my shoulder. There i was, squeezed between two warm bodies, flushed and dripping wet.

Obreon took my leg and pulled it up to his waist, holding me, clinging to me like i was a wuthering wave and he a drowning sailor. The tingling delightfulness in my groin started to expand and my walls flexed, welcoming an intense orgasm. My eyebrows furrowed and mouth gaped as it shot up inside me, the wonderful spark-filled sensation. My eyes drifted out of focus, my head falling back, i was enjoying the aftertaste. My hand was still working on Obreon, now speeding up with the intent to make him groan.

Obreon tightened his hold on my thigh, his hips moving along with my hand. The cheeky bastard was basically jerking off into my hand. There was a viciousness to his movements, a desperate kind of lust.

Astarion parted their kiss and grazed his lips down the nobleman's neck, sucking on him, teasing his flesh. Obreon whimpered in bliss, allowing himself to be devoured. He was in a state, cheeks adorned with a heavy blush, clothes and hair disheveled. His voice formed a hoarse moan, whilst his hips continued to hump my hand. I was holding him firmly, moving quickly along his shaft. My thumb made sure to brush the tip of his member as it pulled out.

Obreon's voice cracked in the middle of a moan, his body shuddered and slowed down. I felt his seed in my fist, but i kept on stroking him. Obreon embraced me tightly, his thumb caressing my thigh. He was breathless as he humped me jerkingly throughout his orgasm. I pulled out my sticky, semen coated hand and shoved it into Obreon's mouth. He sucked on it obediently, cleaning my fingers with his tongue.

„Mm, what a good boy,“ i exhaled sweetly. Astarion glanced at me, he was still toying with the nobleman's neck. We understood each other well. His jaw flung open, sharp fangs glistening with saliva, and latched onto Obreon's flesh. Obreon gasped, but was still licking my fingers in his mouth. I smiled watching my lover drain him. My fingers dug deeper into Obreon's mouth, caressing his tongue possessively. His eyes drifted shut, long eyelashes fluttering as if he was dreaming. I could feel him sucking my finger, a heavy lustful gasp flowing from his lips.

„You were such a delight, my lovely elf,“ i whispered in his ear.

Obreon's body began to weaken, his hand released my leg and it dropped to the ground. Astarion embraced him and held him up, while the nobleman drifted silently into a dreamless sleep. Obreon's body fell limp, his beautiful face peaceful and dignified. Astarion placed his body into the snow. He stood back up and stared at the lifeless shape.

„It was beautiful, my love,“ i said serenely and reached out to wipe away the blood on Astarion's chin.

He turned to look at me, smug and pleased with himself. A hint of dark passion glinted in his red eyes.

„It's been a long time since i've seen someone welcome death so willingly. I expected him to put up a fight. Well, i guess this is what happens if you let yourself starve.“ „Or his parents never taught him to be wary of strangers.“

Astarion touched my cheek lovingly. „We must bury him, my darling. We have to find a place where we can meet him tomorrow, without prying eyes. He will be confused and in need of soothing words. Potentially dangerous.“

„We'll bury him in the forest. The ground is frozen, but i will melt it with fire. And i'll need you to call upon a mist even bigger than envelops this castle.“

„Aren't i lucky to snag a sorcerer. Consider it done, my dear,“ he smiled.

I kissed him and it tasted of dark lust. I couldn't stop, my hand drifted to his loins and squeezed his cock. It was hard and begging to be played with.

Astarion groaned into our kiss and mumbled, „behave now, my insatiable lover, there's a dead body that's in need of a burial. After it's taken care of i'm all yours.“ I gave his member a possessive squeeze before letting it go.

„As you want, my desire,“ i growled.

The fog that came over the town was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. I heaved Obreon's body over my shoulder and cast a flying spell. Astarion turned into a swarm of bats and we departed our hunting grounds. Roof tiles clanked under my heels as i soared from building to building. The swarm of bats was faithfully by my side, sometimes surrounding me like a halo. Below us echoed the cheers and chanting of the partygoers, some exclamations of surprise, some curses at the mist. Street lanterns gave the mist a golden glow, so defused and distant that it seemed unreal. Like the light that's seeping between the eyelids when they're barely open.

We jumped off the town wall and wandered into the dark forest. It was pitch-black but the snow made it seem lighter. It was still snowing, the moon was our only witness. We travelled deep into the woods, so deep that nobody should wander there by accident. I placed Obreon's body into the snow and looked around. The trees here were ancient and contorted, branches and nubs covered in fluffy snowcaps. Near me the flock of bats undulated between trunks, descended and took the shape of a man.

„There's a clearing worthy of a grave,“ Astarion said and trekked through deep snow to a place below a rocky hill.

The ground there was flat, no big trees around. The hill with boulders provided cover.

„Мove aside, dear,“ i said as i started moving my hands in circular patterns, channeling my fire.

A huge blazing sphere materialized above the clearing. I danced my fingers in the air and it lowered closer to the ground, melting the snow. When green grasses appeared i pushed the sphere even lower and it touched the ground. The smell of burning wafted up and i clenched my fists. The fire snuffed out. This wasn't enough, still. I cast a spell that allowed me to move objects around, then focused on the dirt and scooped a human-sized hole into the earth. Astarion carried Obreon to his grave and laid him to rest. I commanded the giant clump of soil to move back into its place and the body was finally covered.

I stared at the fresh grave. The deed was done, there was no way back. Tomorrow we will have to welcome whatever crawls out of that grave, be it doom or blessing. I could have summoned a snowstorm to cover the naked dirt, but we were too far into the woods to have a need for it.

„I hope it's not doubt in your eyes that i'm seeing,“ Astarion whispered with amusement, while embracing me from behind. „It was your idea, after all. His family will slaughter us with a concerto, if they find out what we did.“ His voice lowered in tone, becoming a breathy, sultry whisper.

He was pent-up ever since our debauchery in the gardens. His hands encircled my waist.

„I'm deeply impressed by your sixth sense for masochists. Perhaps i should leave finding all future spawn to you…that, and i love indulging your whims, my darkest dream.“ As he was talking his lips were leaving a trail of kisses down my neck. I sighed with delight, letting him seduce me.

„Кeep talking….and kissing me, my love. I was hoping you would want to fuck on his grave.“

Astarion laughed alluringly and spun me around as if we were on a dance floor. My hands landed on his shoulders and snapped to his neck.

„We were in the middle of something. Well, you were, at least.“

„Want me to continue?“ I laughed smugly.

„Mmm,“ he drawled lustfully, „a certain part of me has been waiting very eagerly to meet you again.“ Astarion pulled my hand from his neck, pressed it against his face and traced his lips with my fingers.

My eyes were burning holes into him. Astarion opened his soft mouth and stuck his tongue out, running my manicured fingers across its moist surface. A sting of pleasure shot up my loins and i snapped my other hand from his neck and cupped his crotch. Astarion's heavily-lidded eyes were glued to mine, desire written on his parted lips.

My walls throbbed, i simply could not resist him. My hand clenched his member through his pants, traced its prominent outline, then kneaded it possessively. Astarion's mouth gaped further open, it was inviting me to do horrible things. I pushed my lips against his, but didn't kiss him just yet. My lips rubbed against his, teasing, soothing. My hand on his crotch began rubbing him off. Astarion shivered from delight, his hands grabbing my waist and starting to lift my skirts.

I smiled and took his lower lip between my teeth, sucking it, then clamping down at full force. Astarion moaned from the sudden pain, his brow frowning, but he didn't stop me. I sucked on his lip while my hand was hard at work on his cock. The opposing sensations were driving him mad, conflicting in his brain, enhancing one another. I released his lip and grasped the front of his jacket, beginning to lead him backwards towards the fresh grave. He complied, staring at me with vengeful lust. I shoved him onto the ground. It turned me on that our 'third wheel' was underneath us, even in death. You shall serve, Obreon, serve in every possible way.

Once my lord was down i crawled on top of him, my hands reaching for the clasps of his pants. I opened them and set his hard, aching member free. Just looking at it made me wet, it was mine, only mine, i will do whatever i damn please. I stooped and stuck my tongue out, licking up his shaft. I made a dramatic pause at the tip and began teasing it with my tongue. A pair of shaky moans from below let me know just how appreciative my lover was. His moans echoed with tingles in my crotch. I reached down and stroked my bud, making sure that Astarion sees it. He stared, moistening his lips with his tongue. I lowered myself to suck his tip again, prodding it with my tongue, all this time rubbing myself. It was heavenly.

Astarion closed his eyes in delight, his hips thrusting upwards, asking for more. I gave his shaft a few strokes, while my mouth was working on him with wicked devotion.

„Just fuck me already, my love,“ he groaned out grimly, while in desperate need of release.

I gazed up at him with evil self-satisfaction, as my tongue was swirling around his tip. I was pleasuring myself shamelessly, putting on a performance.

„Is this begging worthy of a vampire lord? Don't think so,“ i teased him cruelly, returning back to slurping his length. I sucked his tip like a lollipop.

Astarion shuddered and moaned out loud. „Damn you, do you want me to beg?! You evil, wicked, wretched little…“ His cursing got cut off by a needy groan, since i sucked him in and gave his member a few rough, fast-paced bounces. I spat him out shortly and began kneading him.

„Shit,“ he swore crudely.

I chuckled and heaved my hips, my hand still between my legs.

Astarion gulped and gathered himself, it wasn't easy since his mind was foggy. „Alright…“ he panted. His voice became low and seductive, the kind that drove me feral. „I need you to fuck me…i beg of you, my darkest desire.“

I listened intently, of course that voice got to me. I took great pleasure in stroking myself faster as he spoke. I nearly gave in, but decided to torture him further.

I smiled looking at him, then shook my head cruelly.

Astarion huffed annoyingly and frowned at me. His mask was quickly broken.

„Fuck, what do you want now? A poem of 50 paragraphs?!“

His frustration was deeply amusing to me. Watching him squirm made my bud grow bigger and more sensitive.

„You wouldn't be able to make one, you're a shitty poet,“ i said with a hoarse chuckle.

Astarion glared at me without blinking, eyes narrow. My evil foreplay was starting to dawn on him.

„I could command you…“ He started, but i cut him off.

„Command me to what? Sit on your cock? No you fucking can't….“ I laughed loudly, getting a deep satisfaction from his blight. I moved down and ran my tongue across his length, leaving a kiss on the tip. Then sat up and added, „or you would have already done so. You're powerless, vampire ascendant.“

Astarion trembled as i teased his member, something in his presence shifting. His face turned emotionless while his upper lip curled, exposing his fangs. He lunged forward and grabbed my neck. He pulled me close until our faces almost touched.

„I'm powerless…and yet here you are grinding yourself against me. Look at yourself, you're absolutely dripping feral, you'd do anything for me. What is this if not power?“

I looked at him silently. This was a fun turn of events, i loved it when he grabbed me like that. I grasped his member and smirked widely.

„Not bad, but i'm not afraid of you,“ i said and shoved him back onto the ground.

He wasn't expecting that and growled at me.

„You witch!“

I waved my finger, scolding him alluringly. „No, no, be nice now, my beloved.“

Astarion stared at me with a deep frown. „You're enjoying this, aren't you? Does my suffering satiate your sadistic little heart?“

I licked my lips, my hands moving to undo the lacing of my bodice. I moved up on his body so that my hips were right above his. I sat down, my wet folds pressing onto his length. As i was untying my bodice i rotated my hips, grinding myself against his hardness. Astarion inhaled sharply and arched his back, enjoying the delightful friction. I opened my bodice and freed my breasts, my hips now grinding more intentionally. A groan escaped him and his hands snapped onto my hips, making sure i never stop.

„You have no idea, my beloved,“ i purred, carried away by the sweet sensation between my legs.

I humped him further, my movements becoming more rough and desperate. My vampire was grunting underneath me, jerking my hips faster and faster. I needed him inside me. I reached down, grabbed his cock and guided it inside me. It slid in effortlessly for my wetness had stained even the front of his pants. Entering me made Astarion gasp out in ecstasy, his chest heaving with each heavy breath. I started riding him, angling myself in a way that i could grind my bud against his stomach. Astarion's hands dug deeper into my hips, pushing me down harder. I was panting, moans of pleasure flying from my lips each time his cock brushed against my walls. We spent a while like this. Astarion's frown softened, his visage revealing a desperation for pleasure.

Suddenly he sat up and pushed me to the ground, nudging my thighs up and entered me again. It was fantastic! He held my legs and thrust into me with speed and vigour. Each friction of his delicious cock against my throbbing walls sending waves of bliss up my body. I sunk my claws into his shoulders and let him have me however he wanted. The ecstasy in his eyes was unlike anything i've seen so far – bliss, impatience, adoration. I felt the orgasm build and screamed as it expanded, my head flying back, eyes fluttering shut.

Astarion fucked me through my contractions, groaning from the intensity of the sensation. There was an absence in his eyes that told me, he was coming soon. His hips kept moving, unable to stop even if he tried, aching for the sweet kiss of release. Finally, he moaned loudly and grabbed me into a tight embrace. His hips were still moving, riding out his prolonged frustration. I stroked his hair and held him lovingly. Once he stopped we just lay there in each other's arms. Gasping and covered in dirt.

We returned to the city and enjoyed the luxuries of our rented cottage. We filled the wooden tub and had a bath, drank wine, rested on soft fresh sheets. I asked Astarion to wash my hair and he fulfilled my request. Then i washed his. I have become used to his presence, even during the most intimate moments, and i demanded the same from him. He didn't seem to mind it either. Astarion said he was always watching, but so was i. I watched him unbashfully as he bathed, changed or slept. He was a feast for my eyes, something worthy of admiration.

„You always stare so eagerly,“ he noted.

„You can return the favor, i don't mind feeling your eyes on me,“ i smirked alluringly, or…have you become bored of this?“ I ran my hand down my leg to make a point.

„How could i possibly get bored of you, darling? I chose you as my consort for a reason,“ he flirted back.

„I hope you chose me for my personality, because you'll never get rid of me.“ My flirtation had a dark aftertaste, a playful warning just under top layers. „The only acceptable divorce i'll take is decapitation.“

„Are you threatening me or flirting? It sounds the same coming from your lips, my love.“ Astarion leaned closer to brush my neck, whispering, „Do not fear, my love, i know about the hidden recesses of your mind, ah, the horrors that lurk in that darkness are abundant. I met you when you were a merciless assassin and was captivated by your steady hand, by your stoic character. Though, i know now that your stoicism was simply a facade, there's hardly anyone in Faerun more passionate in nature than you. We're a good match, don't you think ?“

His seduction worked well on me. I put my hand on his chest, my claws dragging on his skin.

„Say it!“ i hissed, my eyes burning with fire.

His lips formed a devious smirk, but his eyes were clouded by lust.

„I love you and i will burn the world down for you.“

I laughed victoriously, drunk on desire.

„I will slaughter anyone who dares to lay a finger on you.“

Astarion lowered himself slowly onto my lips, his voice a hoarse whisper.

„It's a promise.“

Next night we made our leave, i used a flight spell again. It was still snowing and the forest was even more difficult to travel. Large snowdrifts were leaning against trees, the wind was knocking the buildup of snow from tree crowns. The grave site was coated in a blanket of snow, but still lightly dented. The hill made finding the spot a lot easier. We stood at the foot of the grave, dressed in our furs and waiting.

„It's quite romantic,“ i said playfully. „Еven while waiting something to chew its way out of the dirt.“

„The noble family has probably noticed the absence of their oldest son by now, but there's no commotion, no search patrols on the streets.“

„You think they're keeping it quiet on purpose? The palace is being searched, i'm sure of it.“

„The Anvegg family wants to save face, we must use it against them.“

An eerie scream echoed in the distance, bouncing off trees and stone. I grabbed Astarion's hand out of instinct. He comforted me.

„It must be one of those hungry winter ghosts Ronegard was speaking about. It's a good thing they have been appeased.“

I looked into the darkness of the forest, something was watching us, something ancient and incorporeal. This land was truly haunted, haunted by monsters scarier than us. Suddenly the snow on the grave started moving, a hollow formed on its surface, and a pale hand reached out into the sky.

„He is coming,“ i noted calmly. We watched as the snow got shovelled aside, mixed with the darkness of dirt, and a figure crawled out. Obreon was hard to recognize, his clothes were filthy, hair tangled and stained by soil. His gorgeous eyes we now red, wide from fear and confusion. Obreon clawed at the snow, pulling himself further into the moonlight. His head was whipping around, looking for something in the trees. Then he finally noticed us and froze.

„Where am i? W-what have you done to me?“ The nobleman growled.

„You have been reborn, sweet prince,“ Astarion spoke to him smugly.

„With term and conditions, dear. Now you belong to us.“ I stepped closer and squatted down in front of him, gently touching his hair.

„What are you saying? What did you do? Did you curse me?“ Obreon stared into my soul. He was so confused, so dazed.

„You're a vampire spawn now. He is your master.“ I stroked his hair, cleaning it from dirt, nodding towards Astarion.

Obreon frowned and shook his head in disbelief.

„No, no….no! This can't be true!“

I took a small mirror from the pocket of my trousers and held it up in front of Obreon's face. His eyes locked on it, widening with horror. He crawled closer, staring into the glossy surface that showed no reflection. Something inside him broke, his head dropped, long hair dragging on the snow.

„Мy family will kill you for this,“ he mumbled.

„I'm afraid you won't be able to tell them. I don't want to exert total control over you, so i need you to behave. Being a spawn doesn't have to mean endless suffering, however, if you to put us in any danger…“ Astarion was menacing, confident and powerful.

He was going to be an excellent master and i was so proud of him. He was all mine.

„..Astarion will command you to walk into the sun,“ i finished the sentence for him.

Obreon clenched his teeth and made a loud whimper - as if about to cry or burst out laughing, a grotesque gag of a sound. He raised his head, eyes glistening with tears, mouth contorted.

„Whatever you planned is destined to fail. My family….the council… will never let themselves to be influenced and if they find out that i'm a…“ he struggled to utter the word, „they will burn me as a traitor.“

„Вurn their own son?“ i chuckled, my hand caressing his head. „That's too heartless for a man who introduced his family so lovingly. Come on now, it's not all doom and gloom. We will take care of you, i promise.“

I knelt and pulled the elf into my lap. Obreon didn't resist and laid his head on my thigh, i started gently stroking his head. It was an odd scene, but he seemed to calm down.

Astarion was satisfied with the outcome, he stood and watched us quietly.

„What happens next?“ Obreon asked.

„We will take you home, but first, you have to make yourself presentable,“ Astarion replied. „Your family should remain blissfully unaware of your nightly escapades.“

„You can take a bath at our place and we will clean up your clothes,“ i chimed in, brushing dirty hair off his cheekbone.

„And you will tell your family a story with a very happy ending: you succumbed to a night of wild debauchery with two of your guests, who lured you out of the castle. You got drunk and passed out somewhere, only to stagger back home the next day. You can add whatever details you desire to make it more convincing. Lying shouldn't be too difficult, since it's basically the truth.“

Obreon listened quietly, eyes distant. Confusion and shock was written all over his face. He was scared, too. I tried my best to calm him, we didn't need him to panic.

„And…what do you want to be called? Should i call you master now?“ The nobleman barked bitterly.

Astarion rolled his eyes. „Мaster is such an old-fashioned, formal title, i prefer something more…casual. You may call me by my name.“

„You must stay out of the sun and be ready for the hunger, sweetheart. Astarion, will you read him the rules?“ I averted my eyes to my beloved.

The vampire hummed and replied with a delay, „Things will be different from when i was a spawn and it's no secret i feel aversion towards my former master's rules. Mine will be a lot easier to follow. Keep your nature a secret, i recommend drinking from criminals, it's about time they'd be useful for something. Animals are another good source to keep in mind. Secondly, obey my every command. You won't mention us to anyone. And you will come when called.“

„Think of us as your extended family,“ i added tenderly.

„It's time, my love,“ Astarion gestured.

I cast the flight spell on myself and Obreon, whilst Astarion shapeshifted into a swarm of bats. The mist was still veiling the town, so there was no chance of being seen. I held Obreon's hand as we jumped from rooftop to rooftop.

„So, you're a sorcerer,“ he mentioned midair. „He isn't building an army of sorcerers and wizards, is he?

That made me laugh. „Оf course not, it was i who chose you.“

Obreon stared at me with a frown, worry and confusion plastered all over his face.

We landed on the balcony and entered our humble abode. I filled him a lovely hot bath. The noble elf seemed to enter another stage of apathy, he just stood in the middle of the room stolidly, eyes vacant. I had to undress him and he behaved like a doll, allowing to be manipulated without any resistance. I guided him into the bath, where he sat in silence. I washed his body, then his hair, led him out of the bathtub and wrapped him in a blanket. Astarion stood next to a wall, sipping a glass of wine. He offered it to me, as i passed by, and i took it gladly. I downed the whole thing and pressed the empty glass back into his hand.

The next thing that needed to be done were Obreon's clothes. I washed them, then used a fireball to heat up the room and speed dry the garments. When i entered the room with fresh laundry in my hands, i stumbled upon a charming scene. Astarion was drying Obreon's hair with a towel. He did it so gently, so methodically. Then he picked something from the table and proceeded to comb his hair.

I placed the folded clothes on the table and sat down, enjoying the view.

„Has he said anything?“

„No, he's been ruminating.“

„Can we really send him back in such a state?“

„He will be fine in a minute. I was in a similar state myself. Though, a lot more self-aware,“ Astarion snickered.

„Poor thing, he must be blaming himself,“ i said mockingly, tilting my head.

„This is just the first stage, rage will come next.“ Astarion knew what he was talking about.

In a way, Obreon was at fault. He did follow two strangers into the night and succumbed to their seduction. At the same time, his decisions didn't have much gravity in the outcome. We would have turned him even if he resisted. In that case, he would have been at a greater risk of death. I wasn't sure i wanted a spawn that fought against us. There was no use for a biting dog. Astarion would trust my opinion, i'm sure, he knew i was good at picking people apart.

I walked up to Obreon and cupped his face with both hands. „Don't blame yourself. If you want to hate someone, hate me. Your hate shall be the wind under my wings. I can promise you one thing, if you accept us, we will keep you out of harm's way. You shall taste all the pleasures of eternity,“ i said to him in the most charming way.

I needed Obreon to be strong and cast aside his doubts. He was going back into the lion's den and had to be mentally sound. Astarion, who was still combing his hair, sent me an amused glance.

„I'm giving him something to focus on,“ i whispered to my beloved. „It's better if his aversion is aimed at me, not at his master.“

Astarion shook his head in charming disbelief. „You're positively diabolical, my darling. Not to mention impishly clever.“

His praise tickled me like nothing else. „Мove aside, i'll dry his hair.“ My smile was sly and flirty.

I brought my hands in front of me and summoned a fireball. The brightly colored flame filled the room with elongated shadows. I blew onto the fire ever so gently and a wave of hot air wafted over Obreon's hair. I repeated this a few times before extinguishing the flame.

Astarion began combing his hair again as if nothing happened.

„I wish someone took care of me, instead of feeding me dead rats and carving my skin off. My spawn should be grateful to have me as their master.“

„I wish i met you sooner, i would have draped his intestines on palace windows. You will be a better master than him, it will be your advantage. Your gift to those ingrates.“

„You're as lovely as ever,“ he stated.

Astarion put the comb down and walked out of the room.

���I'll fetch us some more wine.“

I followed him with my loving eyes, but i got interrupted by the pressure around my arm. I looked at Obreon and confirmed that he was indeed holding me. His red eyes were glued to mine, bottomless and glistening.

„You never answered me.“

„What was the question, my dear?“

„Why did you choose me?“

I lingered with my answer, letting Obreon's eyes melt into mine, his expectations to churn and tangle.

„Because i liked you.“ My answer was blunt, yet alluring. „Weren't you attracted to us, too?“

„You seduced me.“ Obreon was feverish.

„And you enjoyed it.“ My voice was sweet as honey, dark charm in full bloom. „In fact, it seemed you were waiting for it your whole life, judging by the way you were humping my hand.“

I could swear i saw the shadow of hesitation sliding across Obreon's face. He was doubting himself, questioning everything, ashamed.

„I will neve forgive you,“ he said, „but i can't hate you either.“

Simply admitting that made him feel small and guilty. It made me happy to see that we had made such a memorable impression on him, that we were messing with his pretty little head.

„There's no need to sulk. Eternal life is a gift not offered to many. You shall prosper under a reasonable master. You ought to be grateful to have Astarion,“ i cooed and leaned in to leave him tender kiss on the lips. „Get ready now.“

Obreon stood up, wrapped in his towel like a protective shell. I turned my back out of politeness and heard his towel drop to the floor. He started dressing himself. After some time i turned around and he was in his evening outfit. I ran my hand up his chest and smiled.

„So handsome. You'll need a spell to hide those eyes.“

Obreon nodded silently. He closed his eyes and began chanting. I felt a burst of magic and when he opened his eyes, they were his former color.

Astarion was back, holding two glasses of wine. He seemed pleased to see that things were going well. He walked up to us and splashed wine all over Obreon's outfit. The latter stared at him in shock, but the vampire lord simply smirked.

„You're far too clean for someone who spent the night hugging the bottle,“ Astarion said. „This will help you with your mission.“

I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and dried his face.

„Just remember this, your new abilities brought you a lot of advantages, not just weaknesses. We will meet again soon.“ I kissed him sensually and he succumbed to the charm once more. My hands moved on their own, slithering down his chest and grasping at his sides. A heavy sigh fluttered from Obreon's throat. I kissed him for a second longer and pulled away.

„You have to go now,“ i said. „I'll take you.“

Obreon shook his head, still recovering from the kiss.

„There's no need. I'll go alone. It won't be hard with a dense fog outside.“

„Have a safe journey.“

Obreon dashed past us and down the stairs. I heard the door open and slam shut. Once we were alone Astarion burst out laughing.

„That poor boy! You messed up his head and his loins! I wouldn't be surprised if he is infatuated with you, anyway, he will be eating from your hand.“

I huffed flirtatiously, „Me? You were there too, if i remember it correctly, messing with his head just as keenly as i was. He's in love with us both. He just doesn't understand it yet.“ My hand slid down the trim of his jacket.

Astarion's hand took my waist and pulled me closer. „We woke his hunger and he will be coming back until it's satiated,“ he spoke in a soft, tempting voice.

„I hope he does. Lust is more powerful than fear,“ my eyes had a sinister glow. I took the glass of wine Astarion was holding and sipped.

#astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x female oc #ascended astarion smut #ascended astarion fic #ascended astarion x tav #ascended astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion brainrot #dark romance

[shifterglitter]

My Waiting Rooms

The Hord

My first waiting room was inspired by the labyrinth, my love for friendly monsters and my need to live inside of a tree like a pixie.

The reason why I named this "The Hord" is because underneath the roots of my tree house is an elaborate cave system that I can access from my library. In those caves lives a Dragon that hordes all of my memories for current, past, and future lives. That dragon is a reflection of my Higher Self should I need any advice.

Around my tree house is a Labyrinth with serval moon doors, these are magical portals that can take me to any DR that I wish at any time.

Several agreeable monsters also call this waiting room their home and have designated territories.

I do have a non human mental health professional here that fits all my needs.

A few of my favorite parental figure characters of other medias also live here for any needed advice. Like Iroh and Genkai for example.

It has a different biome and mode of travel in each cardinal direction that leads to a different Waiting Room. This is the center of all my experiences and should I die in any of my other realities unexpectedly I would immediately shift here.

To the East there is a horse drawn carriage that goes though grasslands that will take you to Barbie's Mansion. To the south, between two forested mountains, there is a train that will bring you to the Dreamweaver station right outside Haven Village. To the West there is a bioluminescent beach with a yacht that will sail you to a Vacation Resort Island. To the North is a garage with a convertible Jeep prepared for your camping trip into the desert. Should you go far enough you will find yourself stopping at a gas station with strange burritos.

One day I'll post a map of everything.

Barbie's Creepy Dream House

Have any of you been to a Meow Wolf location yet? I have. I am obsessed with this string of immersive art experiences in the American south. I also have a wooden barbie doll house that my uncle made me when I was 8 that I am upcycling into a creepy display piece. This was the inspiration for my second waiting room.

In the fields, meadows, and marsh lands that surround the house I can find apparitions of ancestors and other loving entities on my spiritual team should I wish to speak with them directly.

Because I haven't finished the art project I have not solidified this WR, but I'll get to it in a few years.

The Haven

This inspired by the meditation series by The Honest Guys called Haven and Dreamweaver.

Important people (my core chosen family) in each of the realities I end up in will also be here with our collective memories together. This could be from one life as friends; or multiple, like my siblings. The souls here that have lived multiple lives with me can change their body to appear like any of their DR forms at will.

The soul of my "Kiss Me Again" lover lives here as my spouse in my English cottage with a thatched roof.

I often collaborate with my siblings and lover about who they want to be in my next DR, and who they want me to pull here for them to live an eternity with.

All of my past, present, and future pets live here.

Wii Sport Resort

I use to fucking love the Wii Sports games. SO yeah, I am going to play it forever. With tons of Mountain Dew.

And why not on an island with all my friends from every DR.

My OR biological family will also live here, but they will all be idealized healed versions of themselves.

This will have ALL Wii Sports games among other fun vacation activities, and PC Lounges were we can all play video games too.

Desert Skies

Inspired by a after death fictional audio drama podcast called Desert Skies.

I'm still working on the other details, but this will be a solo adventure of self discovery and processing the loss of each lived life.

*these are all waiting rooms because: they have no plot, are unaffected by time, every living thing is immortal, there are no bugs I dislike, no one ever gets dirty, or experiences any sort of discomfort/harm, we all always smell good, what every your want will appear upon your will of thinking it, you don't need to eat sleep or drink water if you don't want to, there are no ill effects to drugs, you can't get sick, and all of everyone's needs are provided for. There is no suffering of any kind.*

#current reality #desired reality #shift #reality shifter #shiftblr #shifting community #shifting #loa #loa tumblr #law of assumption #waiting room #shifters #reality shift #reality shifting #shifting antis dni #shifting blog #shifting consciousness #shifting motivation #shifting realities #shifttok #quantum jumping #quantum imortality #manifesting #manifesation #the meditation series is the haven playlist by the honest guys on yt

[henrisims]

EN: Initially built as a salt box in 1812 as a temporary home for a family of wealthy Dutch immigrants, Pembrooke House has been home to several families, including Mr. Jacob Thompson, who lost it to pay off gambling debts, and the Widow Mrs. Mary Pembrooke, who between 1847 and 1850, increased its size, renovated its style for the fashion, added the grand columned entryway and attached the kitchen to the main house, but it was later partially burnt down in 1865 during the civil war, but the heirs of mary found the house expensive like a "white elephant" to maintain and rebuild, spending a long period of time abandoned and deteriorated until its sale in 1886 to Mr. Malcolm Tarth, a prominent surgeon with a thirst for social advancement who grew rich on the railroads, then brought the house into the Gilded Age as a country residence, modernizing and adding gas lighting, furniture brought from Europe, indoor bathrooms, state-of-the-art kitchen generation, and the entrance for carriages with access to the main hall. These were Pembrooke's best years but in 1932, the Tarth family went bankrupt after losing almost everything in 1929 and the house unfortunately went into foreclosure to pay off debts, being closed until 1940 when Mr. Herbert Parysh, poor dreamer, spent almost everything he had and started a renovation to convert it into a country house, but died of illness before finishing. Since then, the house has remained closed under the threat of demolition for the construction of a luxury horizontal condominium.

FR: Initialement construite en tant que "Salt Box" en 1812 comme résidence temporaire pour une famille de riches immigrants néerlandais, Pembrooke House abritait plusieurs familles, telles que M. Jacob Thompson, qui l'a perdu pour rembourser ses dettes de jeu, et la veuve Mrs. Mary Pembrooke, qui entre 1847 et 1850, augmenta sa taille, renouvela son style pour la mode, ajouta la grande entrée à colonnes et attacha la cuisine à la maison principale, mais elle fut plus tard partiellement incendiée en 1865 pendant la guerre civile, mais le les héritiers de Marie ont trouvé la maison chère comme un "éléphant blanc" à entretenir et à reconstruire, passant une longue période de temps abandonnée et détériorée jusqu'à sa vente en 1886 à M. Malcolm Tarth, un éminent chirurgien assoiffé d'avancement social qui s'est enrichi grâce aux chemins de fer, a ensuite fait entrer la maison dans l'âge d'or en tant que résidence de campagne, en la modernisant et en ajoutant de l'éclairage au gaz, des meubles importés d'Europe, des bains intérieurs, cuisines de dernière génération, et l'entrée pour les calèches avec accès au hall principal. Ce furent les meilleures années de Pembrooke mais en 1932, la famille Tarth fit faillite après avoir presque tout perdu en 1929 et la maison fut malheureusement saisie pour rembourser ses dettes, étant fermée jusqu'en 1940 lorsque M. Herbert Parysh, pauvre rêveur, a dépensé presque tout ce qu'il avait et a commencé une rénovation pour le transformer en maison de campagne, mais est mort de maladie avant de terminer. Depuis, la maison est restée fermée sous peine de démolition pour la construction d'une copropriété horizontale de standing.

PT: Inicialmente construída como uma "salt box" em 1812 como uma casa provisória para uma família de imigrantes holandeses ricos, a Pembrooke House foi residência de várias famílias, como o Sr. Jacob Thompson, que a perdeu para pagar dívidas de jogo, e da Viúva Sra. Mary Pembrooke, que entre 1847 e 1850, aumentou seu tamanho renovou seu estilo para a moda, adicionou a grande entrada com colunas e anexou a cozinha a casa principal, porem mais tarde acabou sendo parcialmente incendiada em 1865 durante a guerra civil, mas os herdeiros de Mary achavam a casa dispendiosa como um "elefante branco" para manter e reconstruir, passando um longo período abandonada e deteriorada até a sua venda em 1886 para o Sr. Malcolm Tarth, um proeminente médico cirurgião com sede de ascensão social que enriqueceu com as ferrovias, trouxe então a casa para a Idade Dourada como uma residência de campo, modernizando e acrescentando iluminação a gás, mobília trazida da Europa, banheiros internos, cozinha de última geração, e a entrada para carruagens com acesso ao salão principal. Foram os melhores anos de Pembrooke mas em 1932, a família Tarth faliu depois de perder quase tudo em 1929 e a casa infelizmente entrou na penhora dos bens para pagar as dívidas, ficando fechada até 1940, quando o Sr. Herbert Parysh pobre sonhador, gastou quase tudo o que tinha e iniciou uma reforma para convertê-la em um hotel-fazenda, mas faleceu doente antes de terminar. Desde então, a casa permanece fechada sob a ameaça de demolição para a construção de um condomínio horizontal de luxo.

#thesimscc #thesimslife #the sims #thesimsmansions #sims historical #the sims 4 #sims 4 cc #sims4

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This is amazing. Melissa posted the Victorian Carriage House she lives in- she posted her bdrm and everyone wanted to see more. Love it!

It was built in 1870 by a wealthy doctor (along with the huge Victorian next door), and she lives in the former stable. 

It was converted to a proper living space and was separated from the main house into its own property in the 1980s.

She says it’s certainly mini at 675 square feet but she does what she can to decorate to the max. She loves this little house and will never sell it. I don’t blame her, it’s enchanting.

The sweet forest fairy bedroom. 

Pretty bath.

It has a wonderful porch, too. 

The grounds are simply magical. 

Melissa says she is proud to be its caretaker. I would be, too. This is like a dream. Look at the sweet shed, too.

via moody maximalism

#converted carriage house #fairy style house #magical decor #gardening #long post #real person's house

[mateomeijer]

⸻ peter gadiot, 38, cis male, he/him // in the ORCHIRD PARK neighborhood of Covington, you’ll find MATEO MEIJER who’s lived there for SEVENTEEN YEARS and they spend their days working as a DETECTIVE WITH COVINGTON PD and THE OWNER OF THE VAULT RECORD STORE. They’ve been described as PERSEVERING, GENUINE, REACTIVE, and GUARDED by the people that know them. This is his story.

Triggers: child abuse, mental illness, death/suicide

When looking back on where he has come from, Mateo doesn't like to look too deep or with too much intensity. Born and raised until aged 11 in upstate New York his father was an artist and his mother was the same. They were two painters that forged a life together after growing up with him always in pursuit of her. As kids, it had been love at first sight for his father, and his mother came around eventually. It just wasn't until after his mother's best friend had moved away to California and had married a film producer out there.

The early years his childhood was happy and warm. It wasn't until after his mother's best friend had passed away in a horrible accident in California that his mother's mental and emotional state began to decline. She drank too heavily and became abusive, first only verbally then it had become physical as well after nearly two years. Mateo's father had done everything he could to protect him and his older sister from the abuse. The man also sought help for his wife's drinking and declining health. Nothing worked. It all only got worse.

When Mateo was 11 he had walked into the converted carriage house near the main house turned working studio and found his father hanging lifeless. It's a sight that he's never been able to unsee. By the time his father was buried and laid to rest his mother had cleared out his studio and gotten rid of everything. It was only six months later that he and his older sister were taken away by the state. Unfortunately, Mateo and his sister were separated and adopted out to different families with him finding himself in the south. Covington, Georgia.

It took many years and plenty of required therapy for Mateo to come out of the poor state he'd been in. At the start he'd been unable and unwilling to open up or trust anyone despite his new family being absolutely wonderful with him. They were patient and it eventually paid off. Mateo came out of grief and survival mode with an interest and ability with music, a talented guitar player and decent songwriter. There was even a possibility of going off to music school and several times he'd been on the verge of starting a band or recording music. But, ultimately, Mateo knew that wasn't his purpose in life.

What he really needed to do was help people. So, after graduation from high school, he went off to university in Atlanta and studied criminal justice. Mateo's purpose was to become a detective, a lawman, someone that could help those in need. Partly, he wanted to learn the necessary skills for selfish reasons. His sister was out there somewhere and the desire to reconnect with her is strong. There's also the need to uncover the truth about his past and make peace with it. Once he earned his degree he came back home to Covington and became a cop. It didn't take long for him to build a very strong reputation and rise through the ranks to detective.

Many times he has received special accolades and commendations for his outstanding work. Has even been offered promotions, asked to take on a role and title with more responsibility but has always turned it down. Mateo didn't become a cop so that he would be stuck and desk and push around papers, there was no interest in the bureaucracy or business of it all. Being a detective and making a difference where he could has been all that's mattered.

Without a doubt the job is difficult and can be incredibly taxing. In times that he's nearly quit and walked away because the weight on his shoulders was too much, or he'd noticed how he'd picked up his birth mother's drinking habit, Mateo knew that he needed to find another outlet. There had to be somewhere to turn. And that happened to be music. Considering that he didn't make a ton of money but also had little expenses with no family of his own, just a house and a German Shepherd, it was easy to take his savings and buy out The Vault Record Store from it's previous owner.

A couple of years ago Mateo found a young woman badly hurt following what had appeared to be a brutal attack. It was perhaps the wrong move to make but he rushed the woman to the hospital himself knowing he could get her to help fast than it would take emergency vehicles to get to them and then take her in. With her condition critical it was a call he took responsibility for. While in emergency care and waiting on the woman to become stable Mateo had already begun the quest in finding out what had happened to her and who was responsible.

For the six months she was in the hospital in a coma Mateo visited at least once a week. At the urging of staff suggesting he talk to her, he did just that. The news would be read to her, there would be updates on her case or just him talking through what little he had, and he'd apologize for not making any progress. Her case had quickly become the one that took him over. It wasn't easy for the seasoned detective to solve, and even more frustrating that Mateo couldn't seem to find a road to travel down. When she woke he remained close to her, perhaps a little too close, and struggled with the professional boundary line.

Now, at 38, his mother has reached out to him. Sick and with not much time left Mateo's under even more pressure to find out where things went wrong in the past. There's some secrets he knows he has to uncover and most days he's not sure if he wants to. What he has never told anyone, not his therapist when he was adopted or his sister before they were separated, was that he still has the note his father left.

#covingtonintro #( 📌 pinned post ; ) #( never had much time for nostalgia ; )

[diabolus1exmachina]

Range Rover Goodwood (tailor-made by Wood & Pickett). 

While the Range Rover has always been the 4x4 of choice for royals and industrials alike, sun-loving jetsetters were missing an open-top version for their tropical hideaways. Luckily, London-based coachbuilders Wood & Pickett solved that problem in bespoke quality and style. Luxury SUVs are common as muck these days, but if we were able to engage reverse gear and back-up 40-odd years there was really only one to choose from – the legendary original Range Rover now known as the ‘Classic’, and they don’t come much more ‘Classic’ – or rare – than this superbly restored and thoughtfully resto-modded convertible that, for our money, effortlessly outclasses anything similar being made today.It’s true that Mercedes-Benz had its G-Wagen and Jeep its Wagoneer back in the ‘80s, but the former was more utilitarian than the Range Rover and the latter simply far less chic. But while the Rangie might already have been widely regarded as truly ‘the best four by four by four by far’ there were plenty of people who wanted one that was more than a bit different from the regular production model.Solihull’s bosses discovered this for themselves in 1980, when a one-off prototype designed to test the viability of an ‘ultra luxe’ Range Rover was loaned to Vogue magazine as a prop for a Biarritz fashion shoot. When the images were published, as many enquiries were received about the car as about the Jaeger clothes and Lancome perfume that the shoot was intended to promote – and so an initial run of 1,000 ‘In Vogue’ special editions was produced.The prototype had been created by London’s Wood & Pickett which was established 20 years earlier by former Hooper coachworks craftsmen Bill Wood and Les Pickett. The firm initially made a name for itself by adding luxurious and expensive upgrades to Minis, work that initially attracted the attention of celebrities such as Rolling Stone Mick Jagger and later that of the Middle East’s super-wealthy oil sheiks. To them, however, small was not always beautiful. More often, they wanted large, and the larger and more expensive the better. So in their eyes,  the names ‘Wood & Pickett’ and ‘Range Rover’ went together like a horse and carriage.

Soon, W & P (along with similar outfits such as Vantagefield, Glenfrome, Monteverdi and Rapport) was doing a roaring trade in Range Rover upgrades, making the most of the cars’ boxy shape and separate chassis to create everything from stretched limousines to Rangies designed for going on shoots and safaris and  for carrying polo kit and elaborate picnic sets.The Wood and Pickett cars were among the most accomplished, and the firm’s managing director Eddie Collins (formerly the marketing boss of rival Mini customiser Radford) was a smooth talker who could probably sell sand to the Arabs. But instead he sold them convertible Range Rovers – capitalising nicely on the fact that cash-strapped British Leyland (the then owner of Land Rover) couldn’t afford to design and make a soft-top of its own. Most of the history of this Wood & Pickett Range Rover convertible has been lost in the mists of time, but if its early years were spent travelling through the desert in style it must have taken a wrong turn along the way – because it ended-up on a run-down housing estate in Poland where it was discovered by the current owner around a decade ago.Although still in its original coat of Range Rover ‘Masai Red’ , the car was in a decidedly sorry state. Its electric roof, torn and holed, had allowed rainwater to soak the interior, ruining everything from the plush velour seats to the once-gleaming wooden trim. Its original 3.5 litre, carburettor-fed engine had been replaced with a fuel injected lump that was running rough, and the prospect of the car ever taking to the road again seemed slim.Once acquired, the car was shipped to Germany where it was stripped to its bare bones in order for a ground-up restoration to commence – a project that turned out to be a considerably larger task than expected. In fact, it took more than eight years – plus the purchase of an additional, four-door donor car -  to transform the original, badly neglected relic into what you see here: a classic  Range Rover convertible like no other.

Although still instantly recognisable as one of Wood & Pickett’s two-door ‘Goodwood’ conversions, it has been given something of a safari look thanks to its immaculate coat of Rolls-Royce ‘Fenland Sedge’ paint, colour-coded Vogue wheels and the perfectly tailored fawn convertible roof (that once again retracts effortlessly at the touch of a button). All-new interior trim in biscuit leather continues the safari/desert theme, while freshly burnished woodwork and a Moto-Lita steering wheel enhance the overall feeling of quality.

#Range Rover Goodwood #Wood & Pickett #Mercedes-Benz #jeep #vogue #British Leyland #Rolls-Royce

[maxfaiden]

WIP... a carriage house converted to graduate student housing where Ryan lives at the beginning of Keystone.

I'll be fully furnishing the 1st floor and Ryan's room, one bathroom, the laundry facilities, and the hallways on the 2nd floor. It will be functional student housing, so the other bedrooms will get the bare minimum.

I'm not sold on the 2nd floor exterior wall covering, so don't hold me to it.

#ts4 build #wip #ts4 screenshots #simblr #sims 4 build #black simblr #keystone #keystone wips #show us your builds #showusyourbuilds #ts4 builds #keystone builds

[doberbutts]

Not your breed so nbd if you don't want to answer this, but I enjoy your approach to thinking about questions of dog purposes, and I'm curious Dalmatians. With Sushi and Creed/Phoebe you've talked about how elements of the jobs they were bred to do affect their bodies and temperaments, i.e. Dobermans are velcro because they are supposed to protect primarily one person on a personal level, or Sushi has her big wide feet for walking on snow and powerful shoulders for pulling things, etc. 1/2

In modern times, Swissies can still be farm dogs or do draft pulling for fun; Dobermans can be trained in bitework and protection. So what's a good enriching modern thing for Dalmatians to do, given that they were bred to run alongside/protect carriages? That seems like such a specific job we don't have dogs doing anymore. 2/2

Don't I have a dal follower? Where you at?

This is something I talk about actually quite frequently and it's: in a world that it is increasingly becoming illegal or outdated to work your dog in a specific job, do we turn these working breeds into pets and breed out the things that make them into good working dogs in order to prioritize good "active pet" traits, or do we find a different job for them to do that does exist in the modern era and isn't cruel and/or illegal, or do we let that breed die? And, at what point do we consider the breed dead, if it exists in a completely different form long after it stops being used for that original purpose?

Usually I'm talking about the conversion of bloodsport breeds to things like weight pull and big game hunting and protection sports, but not always.

No one uses the Great Dane for boar hunting anymore. What was once the mighty boarhound is no more, and other breeds have taken its place. Danes now mostly live on couches as pampered house pets. Yorkies, too, have long since fallen out of favor for pest control, and the majority of wolves are no longer legal to be hunted and especially not with wolfhounds. So what do we do with these dogs who are left over when their purpose either disappears or they get replaced by a different breed that does the modern variation of their job far better?

I don't have an answer for you. It's one that even dobes and swissies face. The majority of people don't use swissies for farmwork anymore and the few who do mostly do it out of novelty instead of necessity. Personal protection is largely becoming illegal and dobes are well out of favor for police and military and border patrol work. What will we do with these dogs who can no longer work in the capacity they were intended to? Do we convert to something else, such as similar-enough sports? Do we convert them into nice active pets? Or do we let them die off when they are no longer useful?

[pamwmsn]

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Pink house on Tradd Street. A converted carriage house Charleston SC

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