xxnashiraxx - 🍁There's Just No Rest for the Queen of the Dead🍁
🍁There's Just No Rest for the Queen of the Dead🍁

🖤🦇🖤 Ali 🖤 She/Her 🖤🦇🖤18+ MDNIpfp by @ichiro-artosaki here on tumblr of the main character of my BG3 fanfic: With Stars to Fill My Dream! 🖤 I write a lot! I also draw! I am now completely sunk in BG3, but I also have Fairy Tail fanfics in my works! 🖤 Working on writing my own book! I live in the Pacific Northwest and love nature and all things witchy.

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WIP Whenever!

WIP Whenever!

Thank you for tagging me @khywren !!! 🖤🩷🖤🩷

I have some more crumbs for Chapter 8 of With Stars to Fill My Dream, coming out Sunday!

This is the more fun, less anger fueled section of the chapter. Heavy emphasis on the word fun! (Fun fact, long ago I posted a snippet of this exact passage, but much has changed since then!)

Rather than being able to hear and see his thoughts manifest, his vampiric connection threads their emotions together like a silken tapestry of color. A pretty blend of red, orange, and green blooms like fireworks against a dark sky, dazzling behind her eyelids. She isn’t sure if it’s him, or her, or the both of them, but god it’s beautiful. It courses through her until the tingling starts, cruising up and down her nervous system to burn her core and singe her fingertips. She’s never felt a desire this intense, not even on her own. It’s all-consuming, raging like a fire where before she’d been submerged in ice.

As her tears start to dry on her cheeks, she slips a hand from covering her mouth to instead tentatively thread through his curls. His hair is soft, cool like lace as it tickles her knuckles. He doesn’t seem to mind, and she gently scrapes her nails over his scalp, earning a thrust of his hips. She gasps and her vision sparks, his hands moving to her waist to clench tightly as she bites back a crude moan. The usual voice of reason in her head is being uncharacteristically silent, and she can’t help but yield to instinct in its place.

The fingers of her other hand move up to his neck, softly pressing her palm over his Adam's apple, and she’s lulled into a trance by the rhythmic bobbing of every swallow. She can’t see his face, but she can feel a smile in the shape of his lips on her skin and it burns her cheeks, making her shiver and sigh into the night air

My people! I am tagging you again, and I'm sorry if it's twice. Please ignore if so!

@preciouslittlebhaalbae @ladyduellist @verbenaa @inkymoonbunny @justabiteofspite @sashitf

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More Posts from Xxnashiraxx

4 months ago

revising your writing is just like "is this weird. is this a weird sentence. is this the weirdest most poorly-worded sentence ever written by anyone" and the sentence in question is "he walked across the room"


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4 months ago

With Stars to Fill My Dream (8) - Born in Blood I'm Not Like You

With Stars To Fill My Dream (8) - Born In Blood I'm Not Like You

Hi everybody!!! I drew this!! It's Ofelia!!! 💖💖💖

I'm getting back into the groove of digital art, so please excuse any mistakes- I have given up on perfecting blending, so I'm happy with this. 😊 Her top is from the Bardic Finery mod!

I know there's a warning stated below, but this chapter does have more canon-typical violence and gore than any chapter before it! Please keep that in mind before reading!

You're in for a treat this chapter- in addition to the violence, we have some steamy crumbs! Please enjoy ❤

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: 7,629

archiveofourown.org
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Opening below the cut!

A cool, dark sky sprawls out before her, thunder clapping in the distance. She waits in front of a red door, ornate stained glass decorating either side of it. A figure approaches from within, blurred by the filigree and texture, before it opens.

Many scenes flash by: meeting the potential adopters. They’re a pretty couple in their late forties, accompanied by their only son. His blue eyes are cold and piercing. She hates that he stares at her the entire time. She sees her room, blank and dull. Cool tones. Grays. The emptiness of it haunts her over the next seven months.

It doesn’t start bad.

She’s used to the distance and adjustment period. She uses the unnatural silence she wouldn’t have had back at her last foster home to excel in all her classes. She’s determined to apply for those good scholarships next year- wants them to carry her out of this bleak life.


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4 months ago

WIP Whenever

Thanks for tagging me, @xxnashiraxx! This is from the same fic that I shared from earlier this week, a flashback to pre-BG3 events to not spoil too much of the plot. Post-coronation angst for ya:

Henri was shaking, one of her hands anxiously swirling a glass of wine that had yet to touch her lips, the other anxiously tapping away at her kneecap. Astarion covered her frantic tapping hand with both of his own, picking it up and cradling it much like he had the night he confessed he had feelings for her. “Sensed my dislike of this Gortash figure, did you?” Astarion softly teased, slowly rubbing her hand between his two, trying to summon warmth from his dead flesh to gift to her living that desperately needed it in the chilled evening air. “For all his talk about missing you he certainly didn’t look for you all that hard.” “I was down the hallway being sliced apart and put back together by that necromancer. Whatever it was that Gortash and I had...it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t...” Henri didn’t finish the sentence, her gaze intensely focused on the deep purple of her drink spiraling inside her glass as Astaron wrapped an arm around her, drawing her in closer, “With hair like that, Gortash did not strike me as a man who makes wise decisions.” That earned him a small snort of laughter from her. “Did you see his shoes?” “Good gods, those shoes. I suppose the circus he got them from is close by.”

No pressure tags: @tealfling, @roguishcat, @inkymoonbunny, @bardic-inspo, @bhaalsdeepbat


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