Kay but also? 👀👀👀 Do you think you'll ever share a screenshot of your TAV from bg3? Bc I truely enjoy all the unique characters ppl come out with, names backgrounds, everything?
This is such a boring answer, but my Tav is literally just me 😭
I know a big component of DnD is to play as a made-up character, but since there's a bunch of options for customization in the game, I wanted to see if I could make a character that looks like me and I got surprisingly close!
Fittingly, my plan was also to play my first run as if I had been isekai'd into Faerûn, and pick the dialog options that were closest to what I would have said myself if I had been in those situations
But anyways, super sweet of you to ask, I'm really sorry for the boring answer though 😅
146 notes
·
View notes
Elriel Month 2023. Prompt 2: Language of Love (Physical Touch) @elriel-month
Tiny pink petals fell over midnight curls, fanned by thick dark lashes to land on the dark collar of his shirt, night-chilled mist and cedar turning out to be a curiously good addition to the syrupy sweet scent of the cherry blossoms getting swayed by the wind.
She watched his eyes wrinkle at the corners, a full set of white teeth infecting her with his joy, hands that used to curl at his side, to avoid touching her, now firmly pressed to her lower back, holding her close, never letting go.
"Kiss me."
He never kissed her straight on the mouth. No. His lips wandered, peppering her forehead, cheeks and nose with equal measures of adoration, contouring her face with tender kisses, only reaching for the final destination when she was breathless and impatient, second away from begging.
Elain wasn't above begging.
Azriel had never been either.
There was nothing shameful where the two were involved. Nothing forbidden. Nothing off limits. Lust was too shallow of a word to describe how deeply they craved each other. Love was too small of a words to encompasses how deeply they felt for each other.
Her knees wavered at the sensation of his lips nearing hers, his hold changing from secure to desperate, the tree bark digging uncomfortably at her back, twigs messing her braid, prickling her scalp. Elain couldn't care less. Not when his tongue darted outside, tracing the seam of her lips, meeting with hers in a slow, wet, and deliberate stroke.
Azriel was a teaser.
But Elain was hungry.
The warm wave of contentment she had been feeling was violently replaced with a furiously possessive instinct rushing under her skin. Elain clung to him, finger hastily waving through his soft hair, capturing the tricky tongue quicker than he could retract. It was like watching a rope that been in poor condition for the longest time, finally snap. Unexpected, but not really. Her victory moan soon was rough as a snarl, like a wild animal staking her claim. And claim him she did.
"That sound," he faltered, voice raspy, barely there. "Do it again." The male was breathless.
Elain understood the feeling, having trouble in finding her own. Until she did.
"Make me."
Hazel eyes lit with the challenge.
Azriel had an unhealthy competitive strike, and Elain was obsessed with indulging in it. What would people say if they knew the neighborhood friendly florist was not so good of a girl? The thought made a rubor spread up her neck. Azriel dove towards her with renewed passion. And Elain received him with arms wild open. They rubbed against each other, struggling to be closer than they already were, wanting to invade each other, to be the same body, share the same flesh, have the same skin.
No begining, no end.
Just them.
87 notes
·
View notes