#Modern vampire aesthetic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vermutandherring · 8 months

Text

The building is dedicated to Ukraine's Independence Day on August 24, as the actual building is part of the president's office and is used as a residence for official and diplomatic ceremonies 🇺🇦

I finally finished this house after several rebuilds. No matter how hard I tried, the list of additional materials did not become much smaller. Rather less scattered. But do not be afraid: I divided the entire CC into 2 parts - for the facade and the interior. So if you don't need every detail, you can download just the exterior decoration part and furnish the house however you like. If a particular detail from the screenshots caught your eye - I will gladly share the link.

You might not hear it, but the alien plants from the Get to Work expansion make fantastic sounds, adding to the magical atmosphere.

I changed the back of the facade a bit because I wanted to place this building in Glimmerbrook, while the original building is much larger than lot I used for the house.

Of course, the sculptures only very remotely resemble the original ones. But I think the overall silhouette looks pretty similar if you think of the whole house as one sculpture.

The interior can also only remotely resemble the real one, solely due to its whimsicality.

Today, one of the halls of the building is used for face-to-face diplomatic meetings in light blue tones with Chinese motifs - the "Chinese" room. But you can use it as a dining room.

The exterior of the house is fully matched by its interiors with artistic paintings, marble, stucco decoration, wood carvings, and inlays. The fireplaces of the famous German company Mason are of great artistic value. There are spiral staircases, hunting-themed stained glass windows, and polygonal halls.

The free planning uses the principle of functional interconnection of isolated groups of rooms (halls, residential, utility), which is characteristic of luxurious residences of the beginning of the 20th century (when the house was built).

The architect of the building, Vladyslav Horodetskyi, is a unique and mysterious personality. In addition to his admiration for architecture, he also loved hunting. Therefore, perhaps he decorated the facade with his own dreams for himself for his 40th birthday.

Floor plans, more screenshots, additional info and DOWNLOAD here (always free).

CC credits:

@thejim07 @cliffou29 @kerriganhouse @valhallansim @historicalsimslife @pinkbox-anye @anachrosims @sims4luxury @annadedanann @janesimsten @thesensemedieval @lilis-palace @hydrangeachainsaw @artyssims @natalia-auditore @chateausims @lady-moriel @tinywardens @felixandresims @rudyplaysims @remussirion and others~

Screenshots made with Silent Hill ReShade Preset

Animated bats on gifs by @bakiegaming (doesn't included with CC)

#sims #the sims 4 #sims 4 #ts4 #simblr #sims 4 build #ts4 historical #the sims 4 historical #sims 4 historical #the sims 4 build #sims 4 residential lot #ts4 vampires #art nouveau #ukrainian architecture #modern architecture #my sims buildings #vampire aesthetic #witchcore #goth aesthetic

152 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 11 months

Text

Sweet kiss, sweet blood (6)

[ dark vampire! • Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: sexual tension, profanation, fluff ]

[description: A centuries-old vampire lives in Victorian England, bored and discouraged. His old friend sends him a letter, inviting him to his new country house. Aemond arrives there to rest. Next to the property, there is a small chapel, visited by the faithful. It turns out that at night, a young lady prays in it. Slow burn, sexual tension, profanation, murder, blood drinking.]

I owe the idea for this wonderful series to: @qyburnsghost

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

Miss Whaterfield awoke in the morning with a severe migraine. For some reason her head was spinning, the world around her seemed strangely blurry. She pushed herself up on her hands to sit up, looking around her bed and felt an unpleasant, burning sensation on her neck.

She touched it with her hand and hissed, feeling two small wounds. Only when she looked down did she see that her nightgown was stained with blood, scenes from the night in the chapel flashed before her eyes like a haze.

His cold lips on hers, hot with desire and lust, his hand caressing her there, shamelessly slid between her thighs, giving her a pleasure that she had never known before in her life. His fangs in her neck, sucking her blood with a muffled, desperate gulp.

She thought that he was not sent to her by God, but by the devil himself.

She stood up quickly, walking over to her vanity mirror to see what she looked like. It was a truly brutal sight, as if someone had cut her throat.

She didn't remember getting home. She quickly took off her nightgown, throwing it into one of the lockers somewhere at the back. She figured she'd have to get rid of it somehow. She put on a second nightgown, clean one. She looked at her sheets which were also dirty. She thought hard about what to do, how to lie so that it wouldn't be known.

She thought hard about telling her parents the truth. There were marks on her neck, there was blood - she didn't inflict such wounds on herself. But how could she explain, what she was doing with him in the chapel in the middle of the night? And what would they do with him if they found out? She thought he hadn't killed her, though he could have. A million thoughts raced through her head. She wanted to put her fist in her mouth and scream in despair.

She was completely torn apart inside. When he kissed her, when his lips caressed her mouth so wonderfully, when his fingers massaged her womanhood, giving her pleasure, she wanted to get down on her knees before him and beg him to take her as his wife.

But then, when she felt his fangs in her neck, everything in her froze. She felt a terror she had never known in her life. She thought that was how prey felt when a predator sank its teeth into her and suffocated her before he began to devour her.

She thought with regret and irony that he hadn't killed her because he and his friend would have been potential perpetrators and both would have had to flee.

He had thought it all through.

He didn't want to marry her at all, he wanted to draw her back to the chapel to be alone with him. And he succeeded. She naively opened her heart to him, not knowing that he was telling her what she wanted to hear. He was using her. She thought she got what she deserved.

She washed her neck and arms from the blood with the water she had in the pitcher. After a while, only two small dots were visible on her neck. She covered them lightly with the powder that her mother had given her once and found that, fortunately, they were virtually invisible.

She took a letter opener and cut her hand lightly with it. She told Mathylda, who came to see her in the morning, that she had cut herself on it and soiled the sheets. The girl, a bit surprised, did not ask any questions.

Miss Whaterfield came down to breakfast white as a sheet. She walked into the dining room, sitting down in her chair without saying a word. She was greeted by her father's happy smile.

"What is this face, my child? Rejoice, men are fighting for you!" He said, buttering a piece of his bread, reaching for the jam.

She swallowed hard, looking at the food around her. She felt like she couldn't swallow anything. She could still feel his finger deep inside her, his fangs digging into her neck. She shuddered at the thought. Her mother looked at her, worried as usual.

"You're terribly pale. At least eat scrambled eggs." She said pleadingly, looking at her empty plate.

Her daughter pursed her lips and helped herself to some of the food, hoping to gain some peace. Her parents watched her closely, but she ate in complete silence. Her father swallowed loudly a bite of his sandwich.

"Have you considered Ser Aemond's proposal?" He asked suddenly, his mustache twitching in excitement as he said the words. She froze abruptly, setting her fork aside with a soft clatter.

"I will not marry him." She spoke dryly and to the point. Her father shifted in his chair impatiently, casting a nervous glance at her mother who only lowered her gaze meekly.

“So I understand you chose Pastor Smith?” He asked, his fingers restlessly loosening and tightening on the table in front of him. His daughter wasn't looking at him but at her plate.

"I will not marry either of them." She said coldly. Her father slammed his fist on the table so hard that she and her mother jumped in horror. He stood up suddenly, walking quickly over to her and leaning over her.

"Pick one, or I'll pick one for you. You're an adult now, you're going to get married and have children. Unfortunately, God has not given me an heir and all my property will be inherited by my brother, but I have resigned myself to the fact that this is my fate. It's time for you to make peace with yours." He hissed, trembling with rage. His daughter didn't even spare him a glance.

“I am sorry that I am not your desired son. I know I let you down the day I was born." She said calmly as she stood up, heading towards her room.

Her father didn't talk to her again, but she didn't care anymore. The wounds on her neck had healed and there was no trace of them. She spent the nights in her bedroom. She thought she'd just forget about it all.

Every morning she tried to pretend it never happened. That she didn't touch herself at all at night, slipping her hand between her thighs as he did, imitating his movements. That she wasn't starting to moan softly like when his hand touched her. That she didn't come hard, imagining that his fingers were caressing her.

She felt rejected by God and the whole world. As if she had always been doomed to exile and loneliness. She thought maybe this was her path. Once, at breakfast, which the three of them were eating in silence, she spoke suddenly.

“I want to go to a nunnery.” She said softly. Her father and mother looked at her surprised.

"What?" Her father asked, frowning.

"I want to go to a nunnery, father. Marriage is not for me. I want to dedicate my life to God." She said calmly, bowing her head humbly. Her father rolled over in surprise. He stroked his chin, looking at her intently.

"Well… I'll think about it." He just said, as he took a sip of tea from his cup.

From then on, her father started talking to her again. The life of a nun was something he was still able to comprehend with his mind. It would also be a good explanation for breaking off the engagement to Pastor Smith and rejecting, albeit painfully, Ser Aemond's proposal.

When Sunday came, as usual, the whole family accompanied by her elder sister and her husband set off in a carriage to the church in festive clothes. Miss Whaterfield was terrified.

She prayed that she would not meet this man from the hellish pit who had completely clouded her mind and heart. She hoped he got what he wanted and left.

They arrived at the church a few minutes before mass began, everyone was already inside. They entered the church through the main door, and her eyes darted quickly to the first pews. She swallowed hard and felt her heart stop at the sight of him, sitting cross-legged, his top hat lying next to him on the pew. He looked at her over his shoulder, his lips pursed.

She looked away, distraught. For some reason she wanted to cry, her heart was pounding like crazy. She sat down quickly in her seat, her hands clasping her prayer book. She felt him looking at her, she felt his breath on her neck. A strong shudder went through her, as she remembered the feeling of his fangs digging into her flesh.

She couldn't concentrate the whole time, her hands were shaking. She shuddered at the thought that he hadn't left. She wondered what else could he want?

Maybe he wanted to kill her?

She wondered, horrified, if Ser Criston was like him. She froze at the thought, swallowing hard. She thought there were a lot of people around her unaware of the danger they could warn. She decided that now, without evidence, they would think she was crazy.

When it was time to receive Holy Communion, her family stood up, but she was still sitting in the pew. Her father looked at her surprised, but she shook her head.

"I haven't been to confession." She said softly. Her father pursed his lips in displeasure, and moved with his family toward the line of worshipers.

She couldn't after what she'd done with him and what she'd done every night go to the sacrament with a pure heart. She looked down at her fingers, exhaling softly, his intense gaze at the back of her neck burned her, but she didn't turn to him once.

When the mass ended she was the first to get up, leaving the church quickly, wanting to be the first to get into their carriage and wait for the rest of the family there. She was startled when she heard quick footsteps behind her.

When she turned around, his pale face was in front of her. He stared at her with a mixture of anger, longing, coldness and desire that made her heart clench. She wanted to turn around and keep walking, but she heard his voice behind her.

"Marry me."

She stopped, her heart beating wildly. She felt a throbbing between her thighs at his words. Her body betrayed her, it was not worthy of any trust. She pursed her lips at his words, glancing at him over her shoulder.

"I'm going to join a nunnery." She said coldly.

An awkward silence fell between them. He stared at her, anger burning in his eye, his chest heaving uneasily. His jaw and hands clenched so tightly she thought his bones would break. People started coming out around them, her family saw them from a distance, standing in the road. He smiled suddenly, monstrously and ironically.

"Are you going to become a saint?" He asked teasingly, his gaze so intense she felt goosebumps on the back of her neck. Her lower lip trembled.

"You are insolent." She said softly, shaking her head in disbelief.

Even though she was afraid of him, she decided she wouldn't let him push her around. She had nothing left to lose. He pursed his lips tightly at her response. She could see that he was slowly losing his temper.

"Don't do this." He finally said, his voice strangely weak, hesitant, quiet.

She looked at him in surprise, her eyebrows furrowed in pain. As he stood before her, she thought she forgot for a moment what he had done to her. That inside this handsome man was a beast that wanted to devour her.

"Farewell." She said softly, as she turned away from him and she opened the door to her carriage.

She heard him turn tense, furious, mounting his horse and galloping off, leaving behind a light dust that hung like mist on the road. She felt tears fall down her cheeks and decided she was a stupid, foolish girl to cry for her tormentor.

When she got home, she lay down on the bed, unable to get up. Her sister and mother tried to talk to her, but she wouldn't speak to them. She didn't have the strength for it. She's already made her decision.

In the evening, while she was reading a book, she heard a knock on her door. She sighed softly.

"Come in." She said calmly, and after a moment Mathylda was standing in front of her, extending her hand to her.

"Letter for you, miss." She said softly, as she set the envelope on the table and left, closing the door behind her.

She stared at the letter, feeling cold sweat on her crotch. She knew it was a letter from him. She knew that he would try to wash her eyes again, manipulate her into doing what he wanted. She considered throwing it into the flames. She swallowed hard dropping her eyes.

Her hand reached tentatively for the envelope, her fingers trembling as she tore open the seal. She pulled out a folded piece of paper, filled with small, beautiful, masculine handwriting. She unfolded it and began to read, feeling her heart leap into her throat.

Dear Miss Whaterfield,

I owe you an apology. The damage I have caused you is beyond repair. I have nothing to justify. We both know that I was guided by my private motives and desires, which I deeply hoped that at least partly you shared. You have aroused my ardent, hot feeling, that burns my heart and prevents me from thinking clearly.

I want you to know that I wasn't born like this. I think it would also be important to make it clear that I am not hurting people. In your case too, although you had a right to take it otherwise, I had no intention of doing you any harm. I know what it looked like, and I know how terrified you must have been. I regret that I could not be with you to calm you down and explain everything.

I'm begging you, don't make any hasty decisions. Life is too short to lock up in a place like this. Thanks to you I felt life in my body. I realized that even though I had walked this world for a long time, I had been dead until you had revived me.

I'm not trying to persuade you to change your mind, because I know I'll never regain your trust. I just want to express, once again, the words of the most sincere regret and shame that overwhelms me and repeat the request that you do not close yourself in the cold, monastery walls. I pray every day for you in the chapel.

Yours faithfully Ser Aemond

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9

Others: @talesofoldandnew @toodlesxcuddles @padfooteyes @iloveallmyboys

192 notes · View notes