#snowyart

[snowfolly]

Just had a lot of feelings about domestic Astarion living his best life by the light of moon and candle ♥️

(bat plush design belongs to @icybluepenguin !)

Detail under the cut

[snowy-nostalgia]

Lil Dude

[winterwoodragon]

He had like 15 zippers

[thelubomir]

Snowy Skhidnytsia, Ukraine

[werepuppycreations]

Hope you're all keeping wrapped up warm for the winter!

2021 art of my OC Kamen.

▶ General Art Commission Options

[sy1ver]

puffyjacket

[ruthiescloset]

Taken on my iPhone 14

[idoodleanddraw]

The snow arrives

[lumienyx]

happy to surrender

Pairing: Astarion/m!Tav | Rating: T | Words: 1,208 | Tags: Established Relationship, Romance, Banter, Fluff, Humor, sorcery as a replacement for the tadpole mindlink, no beta we die like Dribbles

Summary: A snowflake lands on Tav’s lips, and Astarion melts it with a kiss.  “My love.” Astarion’s gaze is so tender, his voice so fragile Tav fears that it may break. “These last six months of happy memories are a counterweight to two hundred years of misery.”

A/N: inspired by a bunch of things: Astarion's epilogue confession ofc, @snowyarts' post contrasting it with his earlier much more grim dialogue, and when I finally started on the New Beginnings prompt for the BG3 Winter Holiday Challenge, I ended up with this🥺 Hope you enjoy💙

Read on AO3 or continue under the cut ↓

The canvas of the night stretches wide above them. Astarion watches it, entranced, ever in awe of each new starscape of Faerûn they uncover during their travels. 

Tav is mesmerized in turn by the subtle play of moonlight on Astarion’s skin, in his eyes. The light snowfall grazes his hair, the flakes lingering just a bit longer than usual before melting away. Tav leans closer into the one-armed embrace, pressing his lips against Astarion's neck.

“Any new constellations you can show me?” Tav follows his lover’s gaze to a messy cluster of stars.

Astarion chuckles. “Of course, my sweet. If you remember all the ones from before.”

“All of them?” Tav frowns, doubtful. “You have a lot of faith in my memory.”

“If you can quote that bawdy poor excuse of a romance novel we stole from Gale, then surely—”

“Anyway.” Tav ignores Astarion’s smirk, pointing to where he spots a familiar, blade-like pattern, tracing it with his finger. “That one. Jassa’s Dagger?”

“Wrong.”

“Oh, well, the Sword and the Dagg—”

Astarion cuts him off with an exasperated kiss, reaching out to run his hand through Tav's hair, a pleasant shiver tingling in its wake. “Try again. No daggers there, I’m afraid.”

“Ah.” Tav skips through a couple more guesses. “Well… Esetar?”

“That isn’t even visible right now, darling.” Astarion caresses his cheek then, gentle and almost placating. “Not that I don’t find this positively adorable, but do you even listen when I tell you about them?”

“I remember most of our stargazing lessons ending in me seeing stars for a very different reason.”

Astarion groans. “And I remember how I’ve told you repeatedly that your questionable attempts at wordplay leave much to be desired.”

“This one was good,” Tav insists, “one might even say stellar—”

“Stop—”

Astarion struggles out of the embrace only half-heartedly, and Tav doesn’t catch any trace of tension on his face, so he doesn’t break the hold. “Made you smile,” he says, with no small measure of satisfaction.

“I am not,” Astarion says, “smiling,” he tries and fails to suppress it.

“But there it is.” 

Tav presses his lips to Astarion’s, feeling the grin widen. He relishes the soft, languid movement of his lover’s lips as they fall deeper into a kiss that warms Tav even more than the sphere of heat he’s keeping up around them. There’s only a hair’s breadth between them as they pull away, and Tav finds himself lost in Astarion’s eyes all over again.

“There.” Tav points to another patch in the sky, not even looking. “Mystra’s Circle.”

“Why,” Astarion gasps in mock surprise, “truly a remarkable catch! The only circular constellation out there—how did you guess?”

Tav weaves a few spheres from the heaps of snow behind Astarion, all ready to strike. They all miss, of course; Astarion leaps out of his arms to dodge them just in time, and Tav barely manages to halt the spell before the projectiles end up hitting him instead.

“Ugh.” Tav lets the spell dissipate ina burst of snowflakes. Gone is his only chance to catch Astarion off guard. “I’ll get you one of these days.”

“Darling,” Astarion laughs, “do I have to remind you of the score of our snowball fights?” He rushes back into the radius of the heating spell and into Tav's begrudging embrace, though Tav probably doesn’t look as annoyed as he’s pretending to be.

“You may win the battles,” Tav grumbles, “but you won't win the war.”

“If you ask me really nicely, I doubt I would have any choice but to concede defeat.”

“Ha! Since when are you happy to surrender?”

“I am happy with you always,” Astarion says.

And it’s those simple words that give Tav pause. 

There is no hint of jest or deceit in Astarion’s eyes. Only warmth and tenderness that Tav is still getting used to seeing there, in place of the once constant fear and pain. The bright specks of light reflected in them form constellations of their own against the ruby red. So beautiful, impossible to look away from, even as Tav feels heat rushing to his cheeks and his heart rattling his chest at an alarming rate. A reaction he hasn’t quite grown out of, even after all these months by Astarion’s side.

“I—well.” Tav blinks. A nervous chuckle follows a bashful smile. “Really?”

A snowflake lands on Tav’s lips, and Astarion steals it with a kiss before it melts. 

“My love.” Astarion’s gaze is so tender, his voice so fragile Tav fears that it may break. “These last six months of happy memories are a counterweight to two hundred years of misery.”

Tav’s heart skips a beat, perhaps a couple. He doesn’t know what to answer, doesn’t know how. He can’t quite believe it, still. The pain yet rings sharp from the words Astarion had said a longer while back—that not even Cazador’s death would make up for the all-consuming darkness, that never-ending pain.

But Astarion slides into his mind now, magic weaving itself in the familiar spell Tav spent months developing so they could both have this—mind-to-mind emotions and wordless connection—once their tadpoles were gone. Astarion’s feelings are clear as day there, somewhere in the in-between of Tav’s own tangled thoughts and emotions—

—it's as if there's a bright, simmering hearth in his chest, and it feels like home, you are home—

—Tav’s own face obscures his vision, one memory that mirrors thousands more like it, and when he sees that face smile, he feels—Astarion feels like it lights up everything around him, bringing to life something deep inside him that he thought long forgotten, and he feels his lips follow suit to mirror mine—

—touch is less like small bursts of electricity, like it used to be when they barely knew each other but knew enough to want one another and every touch sparked desire—

—now, the touch of my hand is grounding, your embrace feels like a warding spell, a Sanctuary that keeps at bay whatever danger and harm the world yet harbors, kissing you completes me like two split pieces of a whole finally joining—

There’s waves upon waves of joy radiating from Astarion’s thoughts, there's the shadow of his embrace that Tav can feel even as he’s lost in the connection—and all of a sudden, it’s too much to bear being parted, and so he closes the distance between them. They kiss deeply, softly, it’s all kinds of perfection Tav doesn’t ever want to let go. 

Tav is quite happy to surrender to Astarion, too.

Astarion’s lips are cool and yet the kiss spreads warmth all over Tav’s body. Like the familiar surge of sorcery running through his veins, only better, because Astarion’s touch is more magical than any spell Tav could ever hope to invoke. It’s all the elation of a life bound closely to his, of their life began anew. A life they get to live, against all odds, together. Their minds are still entwined, and Astarion’s coalesces into the single thought,

I love you.

And the emotion of it is strong enough, overwhelming enough to make Tav weak in the knees with how good it makes him feel, how completely it overtakes him. And Tav—

~~~

thank you for the read! I’d appreciate any comments and feedback💙

Tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added):

@spacebarbarianweird @satanicspinosaurus @tallymonster @tragedybunny @ellekhen

[cassieuncaged]

WIP Wednesday on a Monday

Hey everyone! So I’m officially back from my hiatus and decided to start a WIP tag chain early since I’ve got some new/different things I’m working on (including old stories I’ve neglected for more than year). Anyways, my current focus is on Baldur’s Gate, Fallout 4, Far Cry 4, and Mortal Kombat.

Also, thanks for the tag, @bardic-inspo , to share some of my writing 🤗

No pressure tags: @emotionalcadaver, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @captastra, @firstaidspray, @snowyarts, @reriart, @elfinbloodbag, @euryalex @adelaidedrubman, @chadillacboseman, @inafieldofdaisies, @carlosoliveiraa, @spacestephh, @galaxycunt, @unholymilf, @quantum-lover, @voidika, @illiana-mystery, @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky and anyone else who wants to share writing, drawing etc. If it’s not your thing please ignore, but I wanted to go on a tagging spree since I’ve finally returned to this hellsite! Honestly really excited to see what everyone is working on :)

King of War - Chapter 2 (Pagan Min x OC)

TW: dictators, mentions of war, non-explicit injuries, language, etc.

Her head throbs as eyes slowly open, the blur of the vibrant world quickly coming into view. A flamboyant man sits across from her, picking at food she doesn’t recognize. Though the stranger in his teal suit isn’t what captivates her. No, it’s the panoramic view of the Himalayas, seemingly stretching to the ends of the planet from wherever they’re nestled.

“Good!” a booming baritone startles her, heavily accented as the man addresses her. Meg knows all too well who he is but hopes that it’s an intricate illusion or this whole ordeal is a dream. “You’re awake.”

“Barely,” she’s groggy, trying to ignore the pain radiating at the back of her skull and reaching for the knife kept holstered in her boots. Instead, he eyes widen to saucers as she realizes that her clothing has been changed as she sports a silk cheongsam dress with matching shoes. She nods bitterly. “You’ve taken my things.”

“Sorry,” he examines his finger nails before meeting her gaze, “I don’t like the idea of my guests being armed.”

“What decent dictator would?” she forces out a dark chuckle, hoping he’ll bury a bullet in her brain and end this nightmare. Instead, a brow arches quizzically.”

“King,” Pagan corrects her tersely, “It’ll do you well to remember that, Meg.”

“How do-”

“Please,” he laughs deeply, genuinely entertained by her confusion, “One of the biggest tech innovators from Silicon Valley disappears and just happens to reappear in my country. You think I wouldn’t know who you were?”

“What do you want?” she spits with all the vitriol she can muster, feeling the tension of sore muscles in her face. Nothing is said as he steeples his hands, mouth splitting into a mischievous grin, but he doesn’t need to say it because she already knows.

Everything.

Exploration - Chapter 1 of 2 (Astarion x OC)

TW: slightly suggestive, allusions to past trauma, dissociation, language, etc.

Memories were complicated, often tainting how one viewed many facets of present life.

At least that was how Astarion regarded his own. Two hundred years had soured his outlook on many things as life was slowly reclaimed. Autonomy, individuality, sex. All were concepts he’d attempted to relearn in the months after the brain fell yet struggled with greatly.

He was grateful to not navigate the unknowns alone, his sorceress lover still firmly planted by his side. Ilwyn was understanding in many ways others wouldn’t be, a flower emerging from the muddiness of her own past trauma. Not to mention how young she was for an elf, still learning many things about herself.

“I’ll be right here, my sweet star.”

She’d cooed into his ear one night after a particularly bad nightmare had destroyed his trance. Her body was warm, the scent of honeysuckle permeating her skin and bed clothes after a soothing bath. No one had ever held him like that, soothing and sweet until his rigid body began to relax against her. To be loved was to be seen, or so he had learned.

Wynnie was endlessly patient and understanding, allowing him to make choices for himself and to allow space when it was needed. Sometimes, the vampire spawn needed to clear his head, to feel the cool kiss of night tickle his cheeks and tousle his curls. If blood still pulsed beneath his skin. He was positive he’d be red as the fruit of a sun melon. How their innocent touches quickly became heated, motions filled with unbridled passion. How he felt himself drift away as Ilwyn lay spread out in nothing but slinky small clothes, her hand drifting to his breeches…

He deigned to be filled thoughts of his lover, to drown in her visage for hours, molding her body against in his own in a passionate exchange, kissing and licking and nipping. Yet, the young elf carefully rolled them over so he lay with his back upon the down feathered mattress. Dismounting herself, Wynnie rubbed firm circles into a broad shoulder as Astarion’s ashen brows knit in confusion.

They were together, melding into one another so naturally and deliciously. Yet allowing ruby eyes to shutter once had transported him into the hallows of the Szarr palace, stretched across crushed satin as sure lips collided with curve of a stranger’s neck. A blonde woman, a man with bronzed skin, it never mattered who was shared that damned bed.

Sex was a means to an end. Always.

Ghoulish Intentions - Chapter 1 (John Hancock x OC)

TW: none! (other than radiation i suppose!)

A gnarled arm stretches across the mattress as the ghoul wakes. Sunlight spills into the room, Daphne’s room. Though Hancock is shocked to find she isn’t plastered to his side, likely having awoken early to tend to mutfruit and tato sapling’s. Sanctuary is teeming with residents now, cul-de-sac walled in like a cookie cutter Goodneighbor. Yet, she enjoys playing her part in all sanctions of the town: agriculture, defense, even entrepreneurship.

But he’s happy that his mayoral duties are paused momentarily, enjoying life after the Institute’s fall. Besides, he rather likes watching his other half scuttle about under the sun that gently freckles soft skin beneath the fumes of radiation that never completely dissipate. Then he hears the rattle of an old storm door, booted feet clomping forward as he begins to dress.

“Hey, handsome.” Blonde hair hidden by the trifold hat that matches his own, Daphne rests her head against the doorjamb. “Nick’s back with a new job. Sounds like we’ve got a job playing detective again.”

“Taking names and kicking some ass involved?” he rasps out a chuckle, enjoying how the loving gaze that falls upon him like a spotlight.

“Likely, at least with Piper and Cait tagging along with us and the gumshoe.” She stifles a yawn, adjusting her general’s garb.

“Well how and the hell could I say no to that?” a grin spreads across his scarred face, inky eyes sparkling beneath dawn’s light. “When do we leave?”

Uneasy Alliance - Chapter 3 (Cassie Cage x OC)

TW: rampant sexual tension, language, etc.

“A truce?” Lavender eyes are unblinking, sharp jaw set hard as steel. “What the hell are talking about?”

Blue eyes rolled dramatically as Commander Cage strode into the meager set up. Her mouth, however, was shut for the longest amount of time since they’d met. Of course, when the turncoat actually wanted to hear the proposition. Instead, the blonde turned gracefully on the toe of her boot, not unlike a ballerina.

Under the right circumstances, Nyx could even imagine herself slipping her a phone number hastily scrawled across a sticky note. Right now, she had to resist the urge to cave Cassie’s skull in.

“Nice place you got here,” a quick nod of her head sent those pink aviators gracefully falling upon that round little nose, “Suppose you’ll be plastering some Echo and the Bunnymen posters up while you watch Eraserhead.”

“What’s your dorm look like, Barbie? Bubblegum pink with a closet full of Betsey Johnson rejects?” Nyx shot back without missing a beat, enjoying how Cage junior was bristling beneath the quick retort. It was clearly a long time since she’d had someone to engage in verbal sparring.

“Point taken,” Cassie grits, arms crossed tightly across her uniform. “You want to hear what I’ve got up my sleeve or not.”

Mirroring her stance, the pallid woman responded with a sharp:

“I’m listening.”

[shanaraharlyah]

Last Line Tag Game

I was tagged by @snowyarts! Thank you so much, sweetie! I haven't done one of these in months! 😊

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or the last wip you drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many you like).

Even though I already have my Christmas card for this year, I'm still on this cozy holiday Hellendil kick. He's such a comforting character and a big hugger so I just want to make something cute and holiday themed.

Tagging with no pressure @raflesia65 @slothssassin @anto-pops

@oxygenforthewicked @just-another-fanfiction-writer @zuendwinkel

[snowfolly]

There’s absolutely no reason for spawn Astarion and Tali to be bats but I don’t even care bc I love them ;u;

they’d just be so rascally

[snowy-nostalgia]

Johnny Cage Postal Dude edit I did

[winterwoodragon]

Night Time Run

[thelubomir]

Winter, Skhidnytsia

[bhaalbaaby]

Last Line Tag Game

i was tagged by @razrogue

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or the last wip you drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many you like).

"I don't want to go back to the party yet," Penelope whispers.

tagging @tragedybunny @tallymonster @mirabai0821 @spacebarbarianweird @bunnidarling @fayeriess @brabblesblog @marcynomercy @snowyarts @elora-the-slutty-songstress @eazzy--pink @micropoe10 and whoever else wanna do this