lxpinwrites - Tumblr blog

[lxpinwrites]

"Do you think I could summon God?" Read my latest short story now! It's a dark academia-inspired gothic horror (with a bit of gay feelings).

[lxpinwrites]

After more than two hundred years in captivity, serving Cazador, Astarion knew when someone was keeping a secret - be it vampirism or, Gods forbid, something worse.

And Halsin, he knew, was hiding something big.

[lxpinwrites]

Alastor spent his entire life - and death - not knowing that there was a term for what he was. He had long since accepted that there was something broken about him, only for Angel of all people to show him otherwise.

--

Written by an ace:)

[lxpinwrites]

Hello! I’m reopening commissions with updated prices! If you’re interested, please message me either here or @ Spoopinlupin! Spread the word!

[lxpinwrites]

After discovering your pregnancy, you decide to reward Elliott for his efforts in - well - making a baby. Pegging suffices.

[lxpinwrites]

A minor vent poem about someone who has, in my eyes, completely changed.

[lxpinwrites]

[lxpinwrites]

Two poems about Gale and Astarion for a contest I'm entering (hopefully it's not painfully obvious that it's about Baldur's Gate) (click for the full poem bc Tumblr hates photos)

[lxpinwrites]

@annablogsposts Sorry for just seeing your tag request but thank you so much for being curious abt this!!!!!! This is an older oneshot i wrote but I hope you enjoy it:)

Excerpt from an AU from my partner’s story

(for @gingerly-writing‘s craving asdfasfadsf)

–

He should have died.

The thought rang clear in his otherwise fuzzy mind the moment he awoke in the cold cell, his entire body aching as if struck with a fever. 

As if he had lost a crucial battle, one that he never meant to walk out of anyways.

He sat up slowly, stretching his weary muscles and growing worried when his prosthetic didn’t move, momentarily thinking that it was malfunctioning until he saw the mangled arm lying limply against his side, the product of yet another one of Dante’s monstrosities.

He removed the useless arm with a pang, trying to ignore how unnatural he always felt without it. The crystal once used to power it fell to the ground with a clatter, now glowing with a bright green magic that he remembered all too well. Dante had corrupted it, then, just to render him useless enough to be unable to work his crossbow.

Quentin had been right. He would have never won. 

A heavy door screeched in protest from somewhere within the dungeon, casting the room in a strange light as boots clattered towards him slowly, confidently. Momentarily he considered ripping part of the prosthetic into a shard, to end his imprisonment before it could worsen, but all he could think of was Quentin, of Maria, of how he would never get to see them again.

“A fine prisoner you make, Flemming.” 

The voice, once clear and smooth, scratched through a ripped out throat, harsh in Aleksander’s ears. He didn’t want to look up at the speaker. He didn’t want to see what his - what Dante had become. He didn’t want to know the lich who had changed his name to reflect his monstrosities.

The caged door flew open and green magic was surrounding him, forcing his head back until he could see Xakras, looking down at him as if he were a mere insect on the ground to be stomped. 

“Quiet for once, are you? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a Sorian in their place before. Or is it perhaps too painful to speak to me?”

Aleksander’s brow furrowed in confusion, momentarily wondering if Xakras was speaking of perhaps grief. That is, until he opened his mouth to speak, the words inarticulate as his tongue throbbed in pain. “You’re a monster.” 

Xakras laughed, a cruel sound that made his heart ache. Dante’s laugh had always been so warm, a fireplace in the winter. Aleksander bitterly thought of the feelings he had long ago held for him, naively thinking that making Dante laugh would make him fall in love. That had been a foolish thought, for Aleksander only ever fell deeper whenever Dante laughed. 

How idiotic he had been. 

“It would be unwise to reopen an already infected wound, Flemming,” Xakras remarked, releasing him of his magic. “I believe we both know that your constitution is rather… unsuitable for infection, is it not? Though, it wouldn’t pain me to see your tongue removed.”

Aleksander looked down at the scepter he held, his stomach flipping uneasily when he saw dried blood on the blade, wishing that it was only his own blood, that Alyssa wasn’t dead. 

“I’ll die anyways,” Aleksander said, irritated that he couldn’t even speak like normal. It seemed that Xakras had taken away both his body and spirit. He wished he could hate him. “The best doctors in Soria couldn’t cure the infection.”

“The best doctors in Soria didn’t use magic.” Xakras spoke easily, as if stating a simple fact and not caring for the hope it brought him. He leaned against the caged door, looking down at him and for once, almost seeming like Dante again. “And I didn’t give you permission to die.”

A sudden anger overcame Aleksander, his fevered cheeks red. “I won’t become what you are. I - I won’t. Even if you force your curse on me, I’ll - I’ll find a way to die.”

“I wasn’t offering you lichdom,” Xakras said, rolling his eye. “Spending five minutes with you is long enough. I am, however, choosing to heal you.”

Magic paralyzed Aleksander yet again, and before he was able to process what was happening, Xakras was approaching him, pointing his scepter at him until the pain was only a memory. He released him roughly, not caring that Aleksander didn’t have two arms to catch himself. 

He must have noticed how Aleksander was looking at the prosthetic like he had missed an opportunity, because he scoffed. “Please. I was a weakling when you lost your arm. It would have taken ten of me to heal the sickness you had.”

Aleksander thought that for a moment, Xakras sounded regretful, though the feeling passed as quickly as it came. Xakras turned towards the exit, his ripped cloak swaying in the wind. He watched as, before his eyes, a strange magic surrounded Xakras until - to his surprise - he looked like Dante again.

In his shock, he didn’t even react when the prison door was left open. Nor did he react when Xakras said, “You’ll find your old study repurposed for your new life. Don’t try to escape - you’ll find yourself stuck between myself and my guards. Pray that the guards happen to find you first.”

With that, he left, leaving Aleksander with a hopeless exit to inevitable enslavement, wondering only what purpose he could possibly have for Xakras, wondering if Quentin would think to come find him. 

—

Aleksander had wondered if it was pity that made Xakras spare him, though the study that had been transformed into a workshop told him otherwise. He barely remembered the dusty old room, having used it when he lived in Sipara. Now, it so closely resembled his workspace in Soria that, for only a moment, he feared that Xakras had already infiltrated his home. 

There were several differences, however, that never allowed him to feel quite at home. 

Aleksander had stolen one of the guest bedrooms at his estate, turning it into the very place where he had built the first prototypes for his prosthetic. He remembered how Maria would catch him awake late at night, working through the last kinks of his most recent idea. She had always scolded him for sleeping so terribly, and yet she had always left a steaming cup of his favorite coffee on his desk, kissing his forehead before going back to bed. 

She had made the entire room warm, despite the constant draft it had.

He sat down at the workbench roughly, still exhausted from the fight. He wanted to do nothing more than sleep, yet he was too terrified to dare close his eyes in Xakras’s palace, fearing that at any moment, someone would come to kill him. 

Instead, he scavenged the room for metal, having memorized the blueprint for his prosthetic in case he ever lost it. Building was harder than before, and Aleksander realized that he had grown spoiled by having two arms again. Now, he was practically useless, and he occasionally considered asking one of the guards nearby for help.

He didn’t realize that time had passed until the sun was low in the sky, casting his desk in a red light that, strangely, made him long for his little knight. Gods, he could only imagine what Quentin would have done if he had been imprisoned. The poor bastard had panicked enough when the elves had captured them. 

Aleksander stood with a shaky breath, frustrated at the slow pace of which he was building. He wasn’t surprised to find that the only window in the room was barred, though it seemed like a useless precaution. The room was several stories in the air - and Aleksander was terribly afraid of heights. 

Dante would have remembered that about him, Aleksander thought. 

He stared at the horizon, watching the ocean from afar and wondering where Quentin and the others had sailed to - if they had even survived the chaos of Loria burning. The smoke of a burning village nearby still hung in the air. It had been a massacre, supposedly. He had been unconscious during it, stuck in the dungeon for who knew how long. 

Aleksander knew Xakras was near when the guards outside his door kneeled in unison, their heavy armor clanking about and echoing in the empty halls. He tried to prepare himself for whatever the tyrant was planning, though he didn’t think he would ever be able to face him without thinking of Dante, without wishing things had gone differently. 

He briefly wondered - only for a moment - what would have happened if he had refused Alyssa’s quest, if he had instead demanded a conversation with Dante instead of an assassination. 

He supposed it would have all ended the same, anyways. He wasn’t Oklena, so he supposed there was no use in trying to predict what was the best decision. 

“It’s not your best work, I’ll admit.”

Aleksander flinched, whipping around to see Xakras by the workbench, observing the barest mechanics of a prosthetic with a scrutinizing eye. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your abilities already.”

“It’s hard to build with one real arm and one hunk of mangled metal,” Aleksander remarked, his throat lumping bitterly. “The crystal in it is - it’s all beyond repair.”

Xakras snorted. “Did you think it would be easy, facing me? You built the original with a fever and a half-dead arm. What’s the difference?”

“The difference is I had a friend with me, last time.”

[lxpinwrites]

If ur against flashbacks in media ur a boring sourpuss. Idc if it's "not that relevant" or what ever. Yes please show me a part of this characters past that influences how they are today, I'm crying and weeping.

[lxpinwrites]

Besties it’s art raffle time

Y’all know what time it is !

I’m gonna be giving away a bunch of character art to some lucky winners!

Rules to enter:

Reblog this post (more reblogs = higher chance of winning!)

Follow this blog

That be it!

Entries will close on Tuesday, 8 November, so get your entries in while you can!

Now onto the fun stuff:

Prizes!

1st place: 1 winner

A full-body full-colour illustration of the OC of your choice!

samples:

2nd place: 2 winners

A half-body full-colour illustration of the OC of your choice!

samples:

3rd place: 3 winners

A full-colour portrait/headshot/icon of the OC of your choice!

samples:

Let’s get to rafflin’!

[lxpinwrites]

shoutout to the slow artists. the artists with hardly any time for art. the artists who reach the end of the day with no energy for art. you got this i believe in you and you are no less valued than anyone else

[lxpinwrites]

DAY 1 NANO UPDATE !!!

Typos included, I’m writing the most self-indulgent story yet. I’ll make an intro post soon but the gist is: rom-com, weirdly sad, with two characters w/ disabilities: an epileptic vampire and a diabetic werewolf! Gay, super gay. Im having a lot of fun writing this and it’s so liberating to just not care if it’s good or bad. It’s fun to me and that’s all that matters:)

Should I make a tag list??? Let me know if I should!

[lxpinwrites]

Writer friends, I discovered a fun website today. It’s called “I Write Like” and here’s the description: Check which famous writer you write like with this statistical analysis tool, which analyzes your word choice and writing style and compares them with those of the famous writers.  Let me know which autor you got! 

[lxpinwrites]

how to bite your neighbor and win a wager: a plot summary

1. Please read this book I need people to meme with me

2. If you’re wondering who the “Well you don’t have to?” voice is, it’s also Vincent

(Buy: link) (Goodreads: link)

pssst @brynwrites​ here u go

[lxpinwrites]

people moving to tumblr from twitter please fucking reblog art likes literally dont do anything except make the artist upset bc they have 2 reblogs and 55 likes

[lxpinwrites]

If you stop thinking in terms of “everything must move the plot forward” and switch to “how can I string together as many connections between details as possible” you’ll have a much easier time deciphering what’s truly extraneous detail and what’s not.

Imagine your reader making a mental evidence board with string and thumbtacks, and the rush they get when they’ve identified a new little connection. It doesn’t even have to reveal anything particularly noteworthy, but the experience in itself is rewarding and adds a new facet to the overall picture.

Our brains LOVE making connections and identifying patterns. So plant those details in the soft and slow scenes and give your reader the opportunity to connect them later on.