to_be_consumed
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Astarion slinked around Gale where he sat behind his desk doing his various little wizardly things. “I’ve been studying.”
Gale’s face lit up. “That’s excellent news! I’m of the opinion that one should take every opportunity to expand their knowledge. What, uh—” Astarion had leaned over his shoulder, just daring his heart to race. He continued with a much smaller voice, “What subject have you taken up?”
“I’ve found quite an interest in certain . . . human anatomy.”
There was a beat of silence between them before Gale broke it with an awkward, ungraceful chuckle, “One of the more salacious topics, I presume?”
“Hmm . . .” Astarion traced his fingertips along the tops of Gale’s shoulders, dragging his hand from one side to the other, eliciting a shiver from the man just below him. “I don’t believe to most people, no. But I have a hunch you may feel differently.”
Or: Astarion gives Gale an anatomy lesson.
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Gale wouldn't say his mornings were usually quiet. This one was no exception, but not for the usual reason. When Gale woke up this morning Astarion was still trancing. And he was humming.
aka: I wrote a short little something for a prompt challenge and only realized after completing it (late) that I had somehow misread my prompt! Not fully sure how that happened
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“I’m hungry.”
Gale shook his head, a look like disappointment – concern? Dread? A look like something on his face. “You still haven’t eaten? Have you managed to drain the forest dry, yet?”
Rats, rotted and crawling with flies. Hardly any sustenance to them all, but Astarion’s new diet could only do so much more. Boars, badgers, and morning birds had begun to lose their appeal – and their nutritional value.
Astarion shook his head.
“I need something bigger.”This is my contribution to Bloodweave Week 2024! They are very near and dear to me and this felt like a good way to show my appreciation for the ship that has stolen my heart for the past year or so (nearly). I am a very slow writer and a huge procrastinator so chapters will be short and I doubt there will be seven of them, but I'll see what I can do (jk I procrastinated too much )
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“I don’t want any of this, Astarion.” Gale’s voice was gravel, ravaged by disuse, but it rang out in the expected silence like a crystal bell.
“He speaks!” Astarion was pleased, of course. It’d been far too long since he’d heard his lover’s voice. He continued with a pout, “I can’t believe it. You speak my name only to slight me.” He held Gale’s face with both hands then, looking down at him as one would a young child. He was relieved, he was adoring. Hells, he was doting. It was Gale’s tantrum, after all. “Whatever you need pet, I will bring it to you. You need only ask.”
heavily based on a vignette written by LamentablePlum :)
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Gale had spent nearly two hundred years hidden from the sun, stuck close to the side of the one who made him. He knew he had a coveted position kneeling at Mystra's right hand, her favorite spawn, and he'd do anything to take his rightful place there again. But he betrayed her, and she was well within her rights to cast him out to the streets of their beloved Waterdeep with only the sewer rats and the rotting dead carcasses of fish to sustain him. It was what he deserved.
Once the Archmage of Baldur's Gate, Astarion Ancunín was at one time a highly revered wizard, one of his god's, albeit many, chosen. And of course he was the only one that Cazador could trust in retrieving what remained of the Weave that was not in his control. That was how he'd ended up with a Netherese orb in his chest, suffering the consequences of disappointing a god, stuck in the shadow of the ever-arrogant Lorroakan that'd taken his place.
But the tadpoles change everything.
(On unintentional (hopefully short-lived) hiatus)
Recent bookmarks
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Follow the White Rabbit by TroublesomeTuesday (AshenLilac)
Fandoms: Baldur's Gate (Video Games)
19 Oct 2023
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Summary
"Somehow [this] hadn’t landed in the possible smorgasbord of all the things he could have caught the wizard doing, but it made a lot of sense... Who wouldn’t give that a go, really?"
(It's not what you think and yet also maybe exactly what you think...)
Just a lot of filth really. I regret nothing and everything.
Series
- Part 1 of Eat Me/Drink Me
Bookmarked by to_be_consumed
06 Feb 2024
Bookmarker's Tags:
Bookmarker's Notes
gawddamn. that is all.
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Even Dogs Know Not to Drink Saltwater by Mixxy
Fandoms: Project Hail Mary (2026), Project Hail Mary - Andy Weir, Iron Lung (2026), Andy Weir's Project Hail Mary - All Media Types
20 Jun 2026
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Summary
Grace is kind, warm, and generous with his gentle touch. Simon just wishes he could stop hurting him in return. After biting the hand that feeds one too many times, Simon seeks out Rocky to build him some items to keep Grace safe.
After all, muzzled dogs can't bite.
Bookmarked by to_be_consumed
25 Jun 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
petplay bloodymary 👀 we all knew it was inevitable
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As a way of coping with the fact Ryland was chased down against his will and put on the Hail Mary, he decides it would be a fun evening activity to have his hot boyfriend chase him down and fuck him six ways to Sunday.
Bookmarked by to_be_consumed
14 Jun 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Would it really be my bookmarks without some filthy porn?
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Close Contact by Antilocapra
Fandoms: Iron Lung (2026), Project Hail Mary (2026), Project Hail Mary - Andy Weir
12 Jun 2026
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“Can you talk?” Simon asks. “Or are you past that?”
In response, Grace licks his neck. Okay then. Definitely past the point of coherent verbal communication.
“Stop that,” Simon says mildly, shrugging his shoulder to jostle Grace, who grunts when Simon’s collarbone thuds into his nose and tightens his grip on Simon’s shirt in mute protest.
A non-standard Bloodymary A/B/O AU
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Hold Me by Lex_To-Be-Kind-Takes-Work (Seth_Silver_Ink)
Fandoms: Iron Lung (2026), Project Hail Mary (2026)
01 May 2026
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Simon has a problem. If it’s left up to him, he’ll try to take it to his grave.
Grace isn’t able to try the same, not for this.——
Simon can’t tell if Grace actually glances down to his lips as he puts his glasses back on his nose or if it’s just his own wishful thinking, as it happened in the blink of an eye, if it happened at all. “I, uh, was wondering, only if, well, I-,” Grace quickly averts his gaze, shaking his head with a nervous laugh, “You know what, never-”
Still reeling too much from his debatably imagined glace, Simon reaches across Grace’s space, placing his hand down in the space between Grace’s thigh and his hand. “Use your words, Grace.” One of his brows twitch, not nearly as patient as Grace is. “I hate guessing games, so spit it out.”
The nervous grin never leaves Grace’s lips and the bulb above the stove highlights the way blood rushes to his cheeks.