Sunday Snippet

Sunday Snippet

Hello friends! Thank you to the lovely @verbenaa, @khywren, and @xxnashiraxx for tagging me over the last week in WIP posts. I threw all my energy in to Gortash Week, but now that I've finished those pieces, I'm going to try to catch up on tag games and asks! (There, uh, will still be lots of Gortash, though.)

To repeat what I said a week ago: I am working on the third (and final) part of A House, A Home (tumblr version: Parts One and Two). There will be angst, there will be smut, there will be attempts to piece together fragmented memories of angst and smut. I took a break from it this past week, but I'm excited to dive back in.

So here's a snippet:

The memory surfaced unexpectedly. She was laughing in a sunlit room. This room, and this bed, with the sheets rumpled and well-used. Enver was stretched out across them, naked. Beautiful. He was lounging on pillows, ever the spoiled lord, but his arms stretched above his head, bound by a length of black silk that was tied somewhere near the headboard. His jaw was clenched, but he looked at her with a haze of lust and longing in his eyes. She had a dagger in her hand, one of his many gifts, too delicate to be much use in most of her work. But it was perfect for today. She slowly licked the blade and tasted the salt and iron of his blood while he watched every movement of her mouth. “Darling Enver,” she mocked. “Is this worth it, to be able to call me yours? Do you have the pet Bhaalspawn you’ve always desired?”

I honestly don't know when people last posted, so I am going to re-tag @verbenaa, @khywren, and @xxnashiraxx as well as @preciouslittlebhaalbae and @flamemittens! Share your WIPs with the world (if you'd like)!

Reblog to hug prev poster (they need a hug)

Felt like drawing the Tiefling bg3 kids as adults for fun.

With Stars to Fill My Dream (3) - But It Was a Trick and the Clock Struck 12

Summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 6,673

Opening of Chatper 3 Under the Cut! 🖤

Ofelia tosses and turns beside the fire in the bedroll she’d found, trying to adjust her body to the feeling of sleeping on the ground. Oh, what she’d give for a cot of some kind instead. Sleep isn’t something that usually comes easy anyway, her nights are usually prone to recurrent nightmares... Still, as tired as she is, it remains out of reach.

Astarion never returned for the stew, and he’d only come back a little while ago. She’d watched him cross the camp in the darkness, moving quietly as he stalked towards the bedroll next to hers. She’d pretended she was asleep, peeking out of a tiny gap in her lashes to see him hover beside her for a moment, red irises ablaze in the light of the fire. He’d looked predatory, like how a lion would whilst stalking its prey, but the look disappeared in an instant and he’d gone to lay down in his bedroll.

She rewinds to the beginning of the day when they first encountered each other. He’s got a mouth on him, that’s for sure, but she can’t really complain when she's just as willing and able to exchange blows. He’s pretty, there’s certainly that. The milk-white of his skin would put porcelain to shame. Tall, sharp, perfect hair… ugh. He’s probably the prettiest person she’s ever seen, or one of them if the others hadn’t also been so weirdly attractive. Even Lae’zel with her tiny little nose… and bossy attitude...

I may have issues. She sighs and rolls over, feeling stupid.

She can’t help but wonder about Astarion’s eyes- she’s never seen a color like that bar contacts- which she’d sported once upon a time when she used to go out and do something worth getting dressed up for. She trails off, thinking about her old friends… there were a couple, both just as partial to black clothes and dark make-up as her. Oh, what fun they used to have- tripping over their platforms, getting piercings and tattoos. She sighs again, her heart twisting as she glares up at the stars.

sipping on drinks you can’t pronounce in bars you’ve never heard of

Chapter 3: But it Was a Trick and The Clock Struck 12

Here's a teaser for tomorrow's chapter! 🖤 (out now!!)

Ofelia tosses and turns beside the fire in the bedroll she’d found, trying to adjust her body to the feeling of sleeping on the ground. Oh, what she’d give for a cot of some kind instead. Sleep isn’t something that usually comes easy anyway, her nights are usually prone to recurrent nightmares... Still, as tired as she is, it remains out of reach. Astarion never returned for the stew, and he’d only come back a little while ago. She’d watched him cross the camp in the darkness, moving quietly as he stalked towards the bedroll next to hers. She’d pretended she was asleep, peeking out of a tiny gap in her lashes to see him hover beside her for a moment, red irises ablaze in the light of the fire. He’d looked predatory, like how a lion would whilst stalking its prey, but the look disappeared in an instant and he’d gone to lay down in his bedroll. She rewinds to the beginning of the day when they first encountered each other. He’s got a mouth on him, that’s for sure, but she can’t really complain when she's just as willing and able to exchange blows. He’s pretty, there’s certainly that. The milk-white of his skin would put porcelain to shame. Tall, sharp, perfect hair… ugh. He’s probably the prettiest person she’s ever seen, or one of them if the others hadn’t also been so weirdly attractive. Even Lae’zel with her tiny little nose… and bossy attitude... I may have issues. She sighs and rolls over, feeling stupid. She can’t help but wonder about Astarion’s eyes- she’s never seen a color like that bar contacts- which she’d sported once upon a time when she used to go out and do something worth getting dressed up for. She trails off, thinking about her old friends… there were a couple, both just as partial to black clothes and dark make-up as her. Oh, what fun they used to have- tripping over their platforms, getting piercings and tattoos. She sighs again, her heart twisting as she glares up at the stars. She doesn’t realize she’s bitten too hard on her lip until the taste of iron flows into her mouth. She swears she sees something shift out of the corner of her eye, but dismisses it and sits up with a quiet swear. She can’t take it anymore- her entire body is sore, she’s irritable, her clothes are itchy… She stands, groaning slightly as she goes to the nearby stone she’d used as a bench earlier in the night. The moon is blazing high overhead, shedding enough light on the bags they’d taken from the group that had left in a mad dash at Astarion’s fabricated threat that mind flayers were invading.