Wip Wednesday

wip wednesday

haven't done one of these in a while but I am finally able to share some new stuff

tagging @elinorbard (thank your for encouraging me to post today), @flamemittens, @femmeharel, @lamortwrites, and @rowanisawriter if you would like to share anything :) it isn’t wednesday anymore for some of you (it barely is for me) but consider it a WIP whenever

cw for dark urge typical content, though not too graphic in this section

She lingers there and feels the steady drumming of his heart. Isoldt could open her mouth, she could bare her teeth, and bite down, and tear. Through the breastplate and the membrane, through the skin and fat and muscle, she could carve clean to the heart of him. She could see for herself how black and shrunken it must be, how shaped by monstrous barbarity. It would be almost as if she held her own heart in her mouth, as if she finally managed to cough it up. How it would pitter in her hands like a little bird. Or something slier.  Enver suddenly straightens, regaining his well-rehearsed composure.  “You killed one of my men,” he says, his voice slightly stiff. Isoldt frowns as she recognizes the tenor. Here he is, again, unsettled. It is the first time she has heard the lilt of fear since the early days of their now-fraying partnership. “I did,” she mumbles against him. And did not.  “We had an agreement,” he continues. She can feel his gaze burning into her, burrowing through the top of her skull. “An agreement that worked, mind you. Which you have now broken.” Isoldt pulls away enough to glare up at him. “And what would you do about it?” “Do not patronize me.” “Never, never,” she replies, both facetious and venomous in one turn. “I ask sincerely. What will you do? Maim me like one of your experiments? Kill me?” His eyes search for something. “Would you kill me, Enver?” She presses the issue yet again, failing to bite back a smile. He could not manage it, of course, but the thought is enticing enough. An inefficient kill. The antithesis of his grand machinations. “I would not give you such satisfaction.”

Emergency Commissions!

My commissions are currently open! Just finished uni and until I find work I need to save up money to live.

I have slots available for flat-colored and rendered portraits, and half-body drawings.

Some examples of half-body and portrait pieces I made. Thank you for anyone who supports my work! :D

WIP Thursday

Tagged by the ever cool @verbenaa @elinorbard @xxnashiraxx @inkymoonbunny @roguishcat! You guys spoil me with your tags. Thank you always for thinking of me.

Here's the opener for Chapter 20 of Epistles of Saints & Sinners. Just some fun Shadowheart and Astarion interaction. I really believe these two goofs would be huge gossipers with each other.

Frankincense faintly wafted from the aging copper coin as it flipped round and round in the air like an aerialist, attempting to dazzle its one person audience despite an oxidizing teal grime coating its shine. It landed, as intended, on top of Astarion’s knuckles. He rolled the coin off each one, descending it as if his fingers were a set of moving stairs. When it finally reached its destination on his last knotted joint, he snatched it betwixt his thumb and index, putting into the funnel he created with his other hand. With an engaging grin and a maestro’s fluidity to his fingers, it was gone! Snap. Clap. Disappeared!  “Do those parlor tricks actually work on wowing people?” Shadowheart snickered, offering him a meager handclap for his demonstration.  He showed her the front and back of his hands, proving it was out of sight. “When you’re one of Cazador’s spawn forbidden to have any pastimes that invigorate visible delight, you have to get creative.” Rubbing his fingers together, he reached behind his ear to make the coin reappear, giving it a dramatic toss back into the air before letting it plop into his palm. “Unsuspecting street rubes were never the wiser. I emptied their pockets for my own amusement, while they were beguiled by my sleight of hand for theirs. An equivalent exchange, if I do say so.” Astarion flicked the coin back into the dried up fountain they discovered, tucked away in an alcove outside the monastery, from whence it came. Shadowheart mentioned it was likely to have once run with fragrant oiled waters, anointed by Rosymorn monks for those that wished to pay a coinage tithe to sprinkle upon their foreheads for renewed baptismal covenant. “Worshippers of Shar have similar traditions we uphold to the dark mistress,” she had told him, “except it’s typically paid in blood.”  “What hobbies did you have aside from your fangtastic follies?” she jested. “Another person that’s failed their comedic audition I see,” he sneered, turning his nose up at her as he remembered both Gale and Tav’s poorly executed jokes at his expense. “Though, if you must know, hand-stitching and books became silent pleasures that my master paid little attention to.”

I think everyone else has been tagged, but if not, pretend I tagged you and show your WIP.

Could you reblog this if you enjoy seeing your writer friends ramble about their wips on your dash?

WIP Wednesday

Thank you thank you to @khywren, @xxnashiraxx, @inkymoonbunny, @verbenaa, and @aliasknives for tagging me for WIP Wednesday! I am so appreciative of your tags, and I can't believe I have my act together enough to post on Wednesday for once!

Look, I'm going to be honest: it was hard to pick a section to post because most of my WIP right now is smut. A lot of smut. I am vowing to finish A House, A Home this weekend!! I WILL finish the smut, and I'll throw in more emotional damage as a bonus.

Sooo here's a snippet plucked from the smut:

Enver sighed, and his hands stirred. His right hand remained atop her head but shifted so his thumb idly rubbed against her horn while the metal claws on his other fingers could scrape ever-so-lightly against her scalp. His left hand brushed her cheek and then stroked her neck. Ta’av glanced up at him as she moved back and forth. Her tyrant practically itched to seize control by tightening his grip on her horns, her hair, or her throat. But he restrained himself, barely. She might have teased him, in any other circumstances; instead, she took it as a challenge.

Tagging @defira85, @bhaalbabebardlock, @ladyduellist, and @bakuliwrites if you have anything you'd like to share!

Everytime I see Wyll's camp outfit, I can't help but think that he's not wearing a crop top, but actually just what he had been wearing when he'd found the Tiamat cultists and made his pact with Mizora.

I mean it's not just that his shirt is tight and cropped, even his pants are short like capris. They stop at his mid-calf, like he grew out of them.

She woke him up in the middle of the night to find those cultists and make that deal. I could easily see him going out in his pajamas if the situation seemed urgent. Then when everything was said and done, his dad immediately cast him out.

I could be reaching, but part of me wonders if he kept those clothes as something to remind him of home, and a simpler time when he was just an innocent teenager. So, even as he's gotten older and grown slightly out of them, he still wears them for a sense of comfort.

Idk these are just my "3am can't sleep" thoughts.