leslievinsmoke

[leslievinsmoke]

[leslievinsmoke]

Something that I’ve always appreciated, but didn’t appreciate fully until I picked up art again myself- is Rapunzel’s art style.

Rapunzel is an artist. It’s a big part of her character. She grew up passing time by painting on her walls. While it’s not the central focus of her character, it is a very important part of her. Without paint, she’s not our Rapunzel.

So you would assume the artists would make her this amazing realistic painter, like most “great and experienced” artists. But she’s not. She has a signature style that’s very unique to her. It’s cartoonish. It’s soft. It’s not very detailed, but it is very fluid and expressive. She often includes nature motifs like vines and birds. Everything is composed and fits well together. Her art is beautiful to look at.

I love that Tangled and Tangled The Series gave Rapunzel a unique art style that is specific and fitting to her. And it shows that you can be a great artist without having to make art that is realistic.

[leslievinsmoke]

Ero-cook 💝🥂🌊🐠

[leslievinsmoke]

[leslievinsmoke]

The Fool

Summary: As you lie, nestled into Astarion’s chest, he considers his feelings - his damned, complicated feelings.

Alternatively, Astarion experiences all 5 stages of grief in 10 minutes.

Rating: T Word Count: 816 Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Content: First person Astarion POV, fluff and angst, rather a lot of angst actually, feelings denial, Astarion needs a hug, cuddling, Astarion's simple plan beginning to fall apart.

Want to hear this fic read aloud with absolutely pristine acting by the incredibly talented CurlyChops on AO3? Have a listen here!

A/N: You know when you’re lying in bed, unable to sleep until you write down that idea that’s managed to worm its way into your brain at unspeakable hours of the night? Here we have a slightly angsty drabble that decided to do just that! After the reception to the Gale first person POV, I wanted to try my hand at an Astarion POV. Hopefully you enjoy!

A fool lies in this tent.

Look at you, nestled into my side, sleeping peacefully against my chest as if a vampire’s embrace is the safest place in all the realms. Utterly ridiculous. So trusting, so… pliant. All according to plan, really. I set the trap - a few choice words here, a few lingering touches there - and you walked right into it. Just like I knew you would.

Just like all the others do.

Well, not quite like all the others. You actually believe there's something redeemable in me, don't you? How deliciously naïve.

Do you even realise what you've fallen for? What I am? A monster, a liar, a parasite. Oh, my dear, the fool you are.

Though I suppose your particular brand of foolishness has its… uses. Your blind faith in my redemption is almost charming.

No. Not charming. It’s pathetic. Pathetically predictable. It can’t be charming. Because, if it is, I’m no better than the fool I mock.

You shift slightly in your sleep, and I resist the urge to recoil. This charade - this playing at romance, at desire - it shouldn’t affect me so. I’m above this. I’ve spent centuries perfecting the art of manipulation, of taking what I need. It was supposed to be easy: charm you, bed you, and secure my safety. A means to an end. But as I lay here, with your warmth pressed against me, my chest begins to tighten. Not in fear or hunger, but in something… complicated.

Anger begins to burn at the back of my throat. Good. Anger is familiar. It’s safer, easier to control.

This is your fault, you know. No, worse - it’s mine. My fault that I have been reduced to this - a creature desperate enough to sell the only scraps of autonomy I have left. You think this closeness is love, don’t you? But it’s not. It’s survival. It has always been survival.

But then again… 

You’re not like the others at all, are you? Those who took without asking, without care. Your touch is… gentle. Always so damnably gentle. You’ve never grabbed, never demanded, never treated me like a thing to be used. With you, it hasn’t all been… bad. No, that’s not right - it’s been tolerable. Almost pleasant at times, really. Your touch doesn’t make my skin crawl; your voice doesn’t grate on my nerves. I tell myself it’s because you’re useful. That’s all this is. 

That’s all it can ever be.

If I were to tell you the truth, what would you do? If I were to push you away, would you stay? If I were to let you in, would you hurt me? These questions gnaw at me, demanding answers I don't have. 

Answers I don't want.

Even now, as you sleep, your fingers rest light as feathers on my chest. It’s maddening. Infuriating. How dare you? How dare you make this difficult? This was supposed to be simple. You were supposed to be simple. 

I could kill you right now, you know. One quick movement, and all these feelings would disappear with you. Never again would you look at me like I'm something precious, something worth saving, like I’m–

“... Astarion,” you mumble drearily in your sleep.

Hells.

I should leave. I should push you away, remind you that I am not something to hold on to.

But I don’t move. 

Instead, I stay. Because the truth, the awful, unbearable truth, is that I don’t want to lose this. The selfish man I am.

A sigh escapes me. 

It’s exhausting. I’m exhausted. 

Gods, what an absolute mess you’ve made of my carefully laid plans. I find myself watching you sleep, counting your breaths, fighting the urge to brush that strand of hair from your face.

When did this happen? When did I start to care whether you lived or died beyond your usefulness to me?

I hate this. I hate that you’ve made me feel anything at all, but more than that, I hate myself for not hating it more. The way you defend me, the way you’ve never once looked at me with disgust or fear… it’s terrifying.

You’re terrifying.

Yet I can't bear to give it away.

Your fingers curl into my shirt in your sleep, and I find myself pulling you closer despite every screaming instinct to push you away. Protecting you, as if I have any right to do so. As if I deserve the way you lean into my touch, trust in my words, believe in my capacity for - dare I say it - goodness. As if I deserve any of this.

The moonlight filtering through the tent catches on your sleeping face, and something inside me breaks. Or perhaps it's finally mending. I'm not sure I know the difference anymore.

A bitter laugh escapes my lips, so soft I’m certain it won’t wake you. How poetic. How utterly absurd.

You, the fool, who dared to fall for me. 

And I, the greater fool for letting you.

Masterlist can be found here!

No Pressure Tags: @roguishcat, @davenswitcher, @silverfangmarks, @sparrowbard, @chonkercatto, @stokzr , @trafalgarussy , @asterordinary , @bite-me-tonight , @transparentkittenheart , @bg3-fanfic-reblogs

[leslievinsmoke]

hi!! i was just wondering if you have an ao3 account or plan to post “I See You, Darling” on there? <3

Hi anon!! I saw this ask just as I finished, but yes!! I just published, "I See You, Darling" on Ao3 under the account name: "That_Damned_Bard" !!

The published work can be found here and through my masterlist!!

Thank you all so much for the continued interest in the series!!

It will be quite long and will eventually have spoilers as I will follow the events of the game with some slight alterations.

Rest assured, I will mostly be focusing on the story archs that are relevant to the character featured so it's not entirely just a recap of the game lol.

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Thank you to @rey26, @shyminnie07, @lynnloveshobi, @iggee-rose, @automnepoet, @tiannamortis, @aoirohi, @sarkara211, @jane-3043, @h3110-dar1in9, @h3ll0k1ttyl0ver333, @mimziethealien, @squichymochi, @sharabay, @furblrwurblr, @dork-of-the-universe, @thedevilssinner, @fuckalrighty, @queenofthespacesquids, @perseny, @goldenplutus, @h4nluv, @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer, @auszimbo, @maruichio, @iamsexytrash, @craig-mywifeisdead-boone, @grimissleepy, @fandomsfanman, @bitchyzombienacho, @r1kk, @ancuninstar, @izuoyarmin, @gracemisconduct, @kiinokochii, @marina-and-the-memes, @life-is-hard-m8, @taraiel, @techs-ass, @apparentlycursed, @mikariell95, @a-tong for asking to be tagged for the series!!

[leslievinsmoke]

[leslievinsmoke]

Paws, Pouts, and a Pettiness

Honestly, I have loved writing these little stories! I have written about five these week to keep me sane! I hope you enjoy.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the canopy of trees, scattering warm golden light over the camp. By the small river at its edge, you knelt, gently scrubbing the dirt from Scratch’s fur. The loyal dog wagged his tail in sheer bliss, his bright eyes fixed on you with a look of unwavering trust.

"Such a good boy," you murmured, working soap into his coat. Your fingers paused now and then to scratch behind his ears, earning a pleased huff as he leaned into your touch. His happiness was infectious, and you found yourself smiling at his unguarded joy.

However, that happiness that did not extent to a certain pointing ears of elf. Not far off, Astarion stood leaning against a tree, arms crossed, his crimson eyes narrowing as he watched the scene. The sunlight dappled your damp skin, each droplet shimmering like it had been purposefully placed to torment him. His sharp gaze moved between you and the dog—a dog!—receiving care and affection that, in his not-so-humble opinion, should have been reserved entirely for him.

He let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. What did that mutt have that he didn’t? His hair was better, his presence infinitely more captivating, and he certainly didn’t leave muddy paw prints everywhere. And yet here you were, lavishing care on that slobbering beast.

With a swirl of his crimson cloak, he strode toward you, his boots crunching against the leaf-strewn ground. As he approached, you glanced up at the sound, and to your surprise, his usual smirk was absent. In its place was a dramatic pout, his expression a masterful blend of wounded pride and exaggerated heartbreak.

"Darling," he began, his voice dripping with theatrical despair. "Tell me it isn’t true. Have I truly been replaced? Is my endless devotion not enough for you?"

You blinked up at him, bemused. "Replaced? Astarion, it’s just a bath. Scratch got himself filthy today."

"Filthy?" he repeated, placing a hand over his heart as though you’d struck him. "And yet here you are, treating him like royalty. When he was the one that happily dived paw first into the puddle. Meanwhile, I—your loyal, loving, and might I add exceptionally attractive companion—am left standing here, abandoned. Neglected! How could you, my sweet? Have I not earned your touch?"

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, turning back to Scratch, who wagged his tail happily, utterly oblivious to the vampire’s theatrics. "You’re being ridiculous," you said, rinsing soap from the dog’s fur. "Scratch needed a bath. Besides, I thought you’d be thrilled—you’re always complaining about how he smells."

"Thrilled?" Astarion gasped, his voice rising in incredulous outrage. He crouched beside you now, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. "My dear, do you see what’s happening here? That mangy creature is stealing what’s rightfully mine. I’ve been sitting over there, watching you dote on him, fawn over him, for what feels like an eternity. When was the last time you touched me with such care? Or looked at me like that?"

"You want me to give you a bath too?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

His lips quirked up into a devilish grin. "Is that an offer? Because yes, I think I deserve a bath." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a seductive purr. "I want your hands on me, scrubbing my back, washing my hair... tending to me in every possible way." he purred seductively.

You paused mid-rinse, water dripping back into the stream as you fixed him with a skeptical look. "You’re jealous," you accused, though your voice was light with amusement.

"Jealous?" he repeated, gasping dramatically. "No, no, my darling. Not jealous—heartbroken. Utterly heartbroken. My poor, withered heart may not survive this cruelty." He glanced over at Scratch with narrowed eyes. "First, the mutt takes your attention. What’s next? My place by the fire? My bedroll."

Before you could respond, Scratch bounded away, shaking off water with wild abandon. A spray of droplets hit both you and Astarion, and the dog happily flopped onto the grassy bank, basking in the sun. You made to follow him, but Astarion’s hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist with a firmness that stopped you in your tracks.

"Wait," he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. His crimson eyes met yours, the usual mischief replaced with something raw and unguarded. "Don’t go running off after him again. Stay with me. Please."

Your heart softened at the vulnerability in his tone, but before you could reply, he tugged you forward—too fast, too forcefully. You stumbled, falling into the shallow river with a loud splash.

"Astarion!" you shrieked, glaring up at him as icy water soaked through your clothes.

He knelt beside you in the water, his expression shifting to one of exaggerated innocence. "Oh dear, what an unfortunate accident," he drawled, though the triumphant smirk curling his lips betrayed him. "I suppose this means you’ll have to spend some time with me now. Away from the dog."

"You’re insufferable," you snapped, splashing a handful of water at him. It hit his chest, darkening the fine fabric of his shirt.

"And yet, you adore me," he countered, utterly unfazed. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer with surprising gentleness. "Admit it, my sweet. You’d rather be here, soaking wet and utterly enraptured by me, than doting on that mongrel."

Your scowl melted into a reluctant laugh. "You’re impossible."

"Perhaps," he conceded, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But you’re stuck with me anyway." He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was surprisingly tender, the earlier dramatics replaced by a raw neediness that stole your breath.

As the water lapped around you, his forehead came to rest against yours. "Tell me you love me more than the dog," he murmured, his tone halfway between a command and a plea. "I need to hear it."

You laughed softly, your fingers tangling in his damp curls. "I love you more than Scratch."

"Thank the gods," he sighed, pulling you into another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent. "I was beginning to doubt my charms."

From the sunny bank, Scratch tilted his head, watching the scene with mild confusion. But when you didn’t chase him, he flopped onto his side with a huff, ear sagging as he watched you both. For now, it seemed Astarion had successfully reclaimed your attention—for now.

Please LIKE.COMMENT.REQUEST.

[leslievinsmoke]

One of the sketches for a graphic novel, but I’m making it as a series of storyboards for a movie or TV series as an experiment 🙃 #astarion #bg3 #baldursgate3 #darkfantasy

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Ascended Astarion and how he's not like Cazador

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The Uncanny X-Men by Luciano Vecchio

Variant covers for issues 1-5 and 10-13

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roronoa zoro of the night’s watch

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I think I deserve something better

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Tye River, fall

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