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adaptacy · 6 months

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A Found Flame {Pt.2}

Pairing: Mentor!Gale Dekarios x Apprentice!GN!Reader

(Previous Chapter) – (Next Chapter) ➔ (AO3)

A/N: Gonna cross-post this to AO3 eventually once I have more of an idea of how the plots gonna go cause you all have convinced me to full-send it and make it a longform thing. just adding it to the list of wip.... a sincere apology to my tcm fics.... anyways! i love my little depressed magic-cancer nerd and im glad im not the only one. here's more of him :) [it wont all be angst, but i gotta set the scene and the stakes, yanno...?] ALSO 'a found flame' is just the working title, idk what the official one is gonna be but i'll let yall know when i figure that out

Word Count: 3.1k

Stepping outside grants you an opportunity to taste the last flavors of the fading winter, only feeling the quick spikes of a chill every few minutes, and even then, it’s only thanks to the setting sun. You still wear a purple velvet shawl, as per the request – well, demand – of Gale. He insisted many moons ago that you shouldn’t ever risk getting sick when you can take measures to avoid such a fate, and you’d decided it was much simpler to go along with it than to argue your safety. That plan was cemented when he purchased you a finely tailored purple shawl, the edges of the hood and cloak lined with lynx fur, dyed a dark pink to complement the thick purple velvet that made up the majority of the shawl. A gift that nothing short of surprised you, even had you fooled into believing you’d been dreaming when he presented it to you. Why he was so particularly fearful of the cold, you weren’t sure, but you deeply appreciated the gift, and even if you did enjoy winter’s nip, the shawl was both gorgeous and comfortable, and you’d be insane to leave it behind.

Gale was also particularly sensitive to cold weather, from what you could tell, which likely had a role in his passionate bias against the chilliness of post-snow air. Frankly, you were fine with the occasional runny nose in exchange for a chance to wander down a snow-dusted forest trail, and you didn’t mind a shiver here and there while you caught free-falling flakes that Waterdeep was ever so rarely granted.

The garden, however, was much like Gale – hardly a fan of the cold. Gale did not have a green thumb, but he still shared similarities with the plants you tended. Those plants that, currently, were dead and buried. While you’d managed to convince him to try his hand at herbalism and gardening, he had more of Bhaal’s touch with the sprouts than the ‘magic’ touch he so often joked about. It was amusing, and a little pitiful; the exasperated sigh and the troubled frown that followed your breaking of the news, that his poorly packed and overwatered plants had passed. He was dramatic, and managed to find the humor in the situation, though vowed to let you handle anything to do with seedlings and crops from that point onwards.

It was unfortunate, as you appreciated his entertaining company (even if it came mostly in the form of griping, displeased that he had to get so up close and personal with dirt and worms) around the garden beds, but it allowed for moments like these. Truth be told, you had no intention of gardening. You would have to wait another twelve dawns until any useful plants would be back in season, so planting anything this late in winter would be a waste of both time and resources.

Instead, you aimed to explore a small forest trail that you’d just recently discovered, not far from the tower you stayed at. To say you lived there felt like too strong, too certain, of a term. It was the only place you slept, and nearly all of your time was spent there, but you knew it wasn’t home. It was Gale’s home, and you were a mere guest. A sixteen-month-and-counting guest, but a guest nonetheless. You worked, your apprenticeship laboursome and sometimes really quite demanding, and Gale repaid your loyalty and assistance by giving you a place to stay. You’d just never planned to stay so long.

In all honesty, you expected it to be a very temporary arrangement. You suspected Gale felt the same way. But circumstances changed, and so did minds, and you didn’t see yourself leaving anytime soon. It helped that you got along quite well with your boss-slash-roommate, despite the differences in personality and age. You were comfortable with the way things were, and Gale had just recently begun to sprout ideas of passing his own spell-casting knowledge on to you, with today’s lesson being a prime example. When you weren’t helping out around his home, or running errands for him, or tending to the garden, you were most usually subjected to reading long passages from books that were once very far above your understanding.

If Gale was a master of anything, it was surely knowledge. You’d found it odd, at first. Spending all of his days wasting away in his tower, just reading, rotting into a hermit, you’d assumed. But you’d soon gained an appreciation for his boundless mind, and felt almost honored that he’d decided you worthy of learning from him. Being a wizard’s apprentice had never been in the plans, not even as a fleeting hypothetical, and yet you found yourself in that exact scenario – and enjoying it nonetheless!

Glancing down at the small woven basket hanging from your arm, you frowned, lost in thought. Gale taught you a lot, and he still had plenty left to teach, but by no means did that translate over to you really knowing the man you shared a house with. He taught from books and scrolls, and on a few spare good days from his own vast experience. Even with all of the lectures he gave, you found that any details about him that weren’t related to magic, or your lessons, were all quite lacking. What you did know about his personal life was almost purely from observation.

Well, a few times when Tara had made a passing comment about some personal detail and surely was later scolded for it, but those were few and far between. If anyone were to blame for your curiosity, it was most certainly the man himself. He loved preaching the importance of curiosity, exploration (despite rarely leaving the confines of his study), and seeking knowledge, and you’d be a rather poor apprentice to disregard such lessons. Or, arguably worse, cherry pick when you applied those lessons to real world scenarios.

Most recently, your nose for curiosity had picked up on the notably pungent scent of Gale’s behavior. It was unusual, slightly withdrawn, perhaps a little panicked if you truly squinted between the lines. Gale was predictable, for the most part – it was one of his traits that had earned him your trust in the first place. Though as of recent, he’d been rather strange. And not the typical Gale kind of strange – an unsettling, uncharacteristic strange. One that you knew better than to ask questions about, but one that certainly sprouted confusion.

You neared the edge of the forest, giving the pale trees a smile as if to promise your peace. Pausing just before the tree line, you peered into the woods, interested as to what you might discover. You proceeded, following a very faint trail into the woods. You had a pretty solid confidence in your navigational skills – otherwise you most definitely would’ve gotten completely trapped in the maze of a city that was Waterdeep every time you ran any sort of errand – so you weren’t particularly concerned with getting lost.

Allowing your thoughts to return to Gale, you reminded yourself that you weren’t really lying to him. You definitely weren’t going to the garden, but you still planned on harvesting plants. You’d known him for almost a year and a half, and you knew the gist of what he’d been through, what with his mentorship from Mystra herself – which was so cool, and he was way too casual about it – and his strange appetite thanks to the Netherese orb that had become one with him. All that aside, however, you didn’t know many details about his past. For as chatty and sarcastic as he was, you couldn’t shake the feeling he had a good number of secrets he withheld from you, and big ones at that.

Of course, Gale was entitled to his privacy, and you didn’t want to intrude or push his boundaries, but it was impossible to ignore the signs of unease. His constantly drifted mind, his long breaks between lessons, his increasingly frequent requests. Or the way that he’d direct you to read a passage from some folktale or other, only to remain silent for several moments after you finish, gazing longingly past his balcony. He’d been consuming more artifacts than usual recently, and gained a sudden eagerness to push real world practice into your schedules. Not that you minded the inflow of new information, but it didn’t seem to come from a place of excitement. Instead, you figured anxiety; judging based off of the common rapid bouncing of his leg, the messy-and-messier spread of his books and trinkets – especially when compared to how well-kept the place always was whenever you’d started working under him – or his new tendency to forget what he had and hadn’t asked of you, or which lessons he’d already covered, or hell, where he had last placed his staff.

Well, what better way to get someone to open up and relax than with a hand-picked bouquet and some herbal tea?

Even if he didn’t spill his guts to you, he certainly needed a pick-me-up. Sure, you already did a lot for him, but he did a lot for you, too. Maybe even more than he realized. He deserved a treat.

– – –

“Though it may be bold of me to say, I estimate they’ll be a fine caster someday.”

“Bold indeed, Mr. Dekarios. Awfully bold. They quite nearly began trembling at the idea of a mere fire bolt!” The small beast chirped back, seated firmly atop his desk, pawing at a small fuzzy ball that swung from a thin string, easily entertained by the simple contraption.

“Even I stumbled; all beginners do. Time is all they need. ‘Time heals all wounds’, is that not how the scriptures read?” He asked, sticking his tongue out and running the tip of a long harpy feather over it.

As he dipped that same tip in a vial half-filled with a thick, clear liquid, Tara quickly outstretched a wing, the end of it not-so-accidentally hitting her companion in the face. The startle nearly caused him to knock over the bottle of magic ink, his torso leaning forward as he just barely managed to steady it with both hands, and he glared at his familiar out of the corner of his eye. She merely stretched out her other wing, feigning obliviousness before eventually looking back at him. “You are still the same fool who summoned me all those years ago. You are a prodigy, Mr. Dekarios! You were half their age then; to compare your ‘stumbles’ to the incompetence of a commoner such as them is exhaustively inconceivable.”

“Tara, I implore you to exercise patience. They are a fine apprentice, and they certainly have the potential for brilliance. Am I not a competent mentor?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, intending the question to be at least somewhat thought-provoking, but the only reaction he received was Tara turning her head away and murmuring something too quiet for Gale to hear. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, he knew her well enough to predict it was something snarky, and he didn’t bother investigating. He dipped the large quill again, unable to recall if he’d already wet the tool, and the liquid dripped off of the tip, shimmering in the glint of the fading sun as it rejoined the rest contained in the bottle. “Why is it that you repudiate all of their attempts to bond with you? Surely you don’t think them ill-mannered?”

“‘Ill-mannered’, he says,” she mocks, her tail flicking in irritation. “It is not their civilities that I have quarrels with. It is the expectations I deplore.”

“Expectations?” Gale repeats, his palm flattening against his desk, pressing out the sides of a contorted scroll, the tip of the feather hovering over the yellowed paper.

After solving her own deliberation, the tressym turns around, her wings folding against her sides, her tail curling around her paws. “Have you no fear that your confidence is misplaced? Mr. Dekarios, do you not worry that they may fall short in your plans for them? That they are not up to the task you have decided to burden them with?”

Gale’s irritated gaze softens, his hand relaxing, coming to join his other hand in resting on the desk. The clear liquid on the quill drips onto the parchment, becoming a black dot in an instant, the weave-infused iridescent ink soaking seamlessly into the paper. “I fear nobody could ever truly be capable. But my options are limited, and my few select choices are each disheartening in their own cruel ways.”

“Evidently, you have already made up your mind. Why is it that you allow them to remain oblivious? You know better than anyone how dire the circumstances are.” Tara’s paws slide forward, her belly laying flat on the desk, and she plants her head atop of her mitts.

Gale moves his hand, letting the paper curl up without the weight, to gently scratch Tara’s head, her pitying purr drawing a sigh from his own chest. “I am but a ticking time bomb. Hardly much of a man these days,” he chuckles dryly, looking around the dust-riddled mess that he still called a study. It would be nothing short of anarchy if it weren’t for his apprentice, and he’s seen it in far worse shape, but it doesn’t quite shake the quiet guilt that rocks in his stomach at just how far he’s fallen. Gale is usually quick to excuse his carelessness as an incurable consequence of his age, but he’s well-aware that his energy is not merely being lost alongside his youth.

The artifacts he consumes have only ever satiated a part of the orb’s appetite. Never quite satisfied – a commonly reoccurring trait of those Gale finds himself engaging with – the sortilege feeds off of him as well. The incantations he recites and the thaumaturgy he practices only grows stronger – more powerful than Gale could have ever predicted or wished for – while his body withers away as though his very anatomy is actively being shredded, and relentlessly so, to make room for spells that he now dreads casting.

It doesn’t help that his learned reliance was only ripped away from him when he truly needed assistance. When the man who once considered himself the smartest in all of Faerun was clueless about his own condition, the only person who could possibly have the answers disappeared.

Now, Gale was left to clean up the pieces. He understands this is his own doing – that he was, and still is, a fool. Once blinded by greed, a greed that led him to being blinded by love, a love that led him to being blinded by desperation, a desperation that led to him being trapped by fear. A fear that now has settled, more or less. Present as ever, but no longer unfamiliar, no longer a new addition to Gale’s emotions.

His hand returns to the paper, and Tara steadies her sights on the bottom of the quill, watching as it twirls, imprinting promises and bittersweet apologies onto the scroll. Words he couldn’t possibly utter aloud, but words that couldn’t be more genuine. The recipient deserves more than a written explanation and cursive laments, and he’s aware of the injustice he’s manufacturing, but he is a terribly faded man who is cursed by a deficiency in time and yet finds himself with so much left to do. He decides it is better a raven on her doorstep than his ghost, lacking any explanation.

Each day, he wakes to find his chest a little warmer, his hands a little shakier, his hair a little thinner. And each day feels like his last. He is entirely helpless to the foe that resides inside of him, of all places. Incapable of defending against something that has already breached his castle walls, and even more useless as it has latched under his skin, reducing him to nothing more than a habitat. He hosts an aberration that has grown far, far too large for its enclosure, and who threatens to rupture its cage with every breath that he dares to draw.

He’s held out for long enough. He’s lived longer than he ever imagined possible, but he knows his limits. The truth stings in places untouched by the Netherese’s reaches; his forced composure starts an ache in his face, but he knows better. With a sharp inhale, Gale rolls up the paper, setting down the large brown feather as he retrieves a thin, fraying string, tightly wrapping the letter up. He even finishes it off with a neat bow, a force of habit, and he sets it aside, leaning back in his chair.

The moon is just barely visible now, approaching the stars and creeping over the mild coverage of the stone railings on his balcony, and the wizard watches the white giant rise. Some unburied, deep sense of longing reflects in his eyes, where the moon also resides, though she is much smaller and much dimmer. There’s movement on the desk, but Gale’s eyes aren’t yet drawn away from the beauty of the night. Then there’s a weight in his lap, and a purring against his stomach, and he lowers his hand to rest on Tara’s back, gently stroking, enjoying the silent tranquility.

‘Mystra’s moon’ he used to call it. He’d tell her he could see her in the shadowed curves, but he isn’t sure if he ever really did. Maybe in a dream, long lost to him now. The moon that watched over him tonight was certainly not Mystra’s. It was bright, encasing the room in a beautiful blue, and the gaze it returned was a soft one. Free of judgment, free of stress, free of difficulty.

“I reckon I’ll be up there soon,” he exhales, feeling his familiar curl up in his lap. “Ruling my own section of sky. Perhaps I’ll even have purpose. I can’t help but wonder what it’s like.”

“Peaceful, I suspect. An eternity of peace, at that. What a prospect.”

“You’ll join me some day?”

The feline purrs out a quiet chuckle, her tail curling around her body so the tip rests on her nose, bundled perfectly atop his thighs. “Of course. I can only go so long without a self-warming bed.”

Gale smiles, his hand falling still on her back, though his thumb continues to run up and down her fur. “Give them a chance, will you? They can’t do it without guidance.”

“I’ll take care of them,” Tara reassures, her tone much softer now than when she spoke of his apprentice earlier. “Do wait for me up there. I’ll be by your side before long, Mr. Dekarios.”

“I set out tomorrow night. I’ll inform them of what they need to know.”

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale bg3 #gale dekarios x reader #gale bg3 x reader #gale dekarios angst #gale bg3 angst #gale dekarios x reader angst #tara the tressym

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forest-falcon · 3 months

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WIP Wednesday

The Polaroid 📸

"Is that what I think it is?"

Scott paced over to the wooden unit and scooped up a small polaroid camera.

"One of Gordon's finds - that kids sure loves his vintage gadgets. I like this one though; there's something special about a polaroid," Grandma gave a wistful smile.

"Bring back memories?"

"Oi, I'll have you know, they were old even when I was a girl!"

Scott gave a sheepish grin.

"Sorry."

Grandma batted the air in good humour.

"They're like vinyl records. They don't give you a perfect result, but there's some beauty in that."

Scott set the camera back down, then gathered up the tower of photos stacked next to it.

The first few featured the various sunrises Gordon must have snapped before his early morning swims; the dusky pinks and golds silhouetting slumbering palms.

Grandma was right. The pictures were beautiful.

Scott smiled and continued to flick through the images; the golds and pinks suddenly interrupted with a burst of cerulean blue.

"There's one of me in here!" Scott presented Grandma with the photo. I didn't know he had taken this.

"Oh, now that I like!" Grandma smiled, wafting the photo as though it needed drying.

The image was of John and Scott surfing together. A rare occurrence to be sure, but such a treasured memory.

There were others just like it.

Alan stargazing - the cosmos filling the night with such an abundance of stars, the polaroid looked somewhat surreal.

There was another taken not too long ago of Virgil with a seedling. Scott had walked in to find the gentle giant conversing with the tiny plant.

"Why on earth are you talking to a plant?"

"Helps it grow."

"Plants don't have ears."

"No, but they're living beings. All it takes for a soul to grow is a little time and love."

Scott couldn't argue with that. And although he wasn't convinced by the concept enough to strike up a conversation with the nearest tree; he did love his brother that little bit more for the kindness he brought to the world.

Scott gently set the image down.

"You're right Grandma, this camera is special."

Gordon's photos had captured life on the island in such a wonderful, smell-the-roses way. It gave him pause for thought. Gordon was so like Virg in that manner; seeing the good in the world. The camera was his canvas.

Scott had planned to file some more reports, but the love emanating from the pictures ultimately won out, and Scott sank into the sofa next to his Grandma.

The reports could wait.

It was time to appreciate the little things.

The commander slouched to allow for his head to rest on her shoulder, and they flicked through the remaining pictures together.

The photo pile was deceptively large.

Scott was just about to save the rest for another day when one in particular caught his eye.

"Who's this?"

Scott held up the polaroid for closer inspection.

"Who? Her?"

"Yeah, the girl kissing Alan."

"Oh! That's Mandy, Alan's girlfriend."

"Alan has a girlfriend?"

Grandma took a sip of tea.

"Mmm, I've only met her the once, but she was just lovely."

Scott stared at the picture. The girl was pretty, in a girl-next-door-type way.

"How did they meet?"

"How does Alan meet anyone?"

"Rescue?"

"Gaming."

"Oh."

Grandma set her tea down.

"They've been chatting for years online, then met in person at that comicon the boys went to last year. I believe there's a pic in here somewhere..."

Scott surrendered the remaining stack of photos, but continued to inspect the stranger... Mandy...to try and get a read on her. It was only a headshot of them both, so not much to go on. She was wearing a simple bobble hat and thick woolen scarf. Her face was somewhat obscured by a mass of bouncy dark curls, but as far as he could tell, she was besotted - all smiles as she kissed Alan.

"Ah! Found it!" Grandma handed him a second photo. Four figures beamed back at the camera. Warrior Alan, Elven Lord Virgil, Kraken Gordon and a grey-bearded wizard.

Scott squinted at the photo.

"This is her?"

"The wizard, yes."

Sure enough, some bouncy brown curls could just be seen jutting out from behind the faux beard.

"Hasn't she the most wonderful cow eyes?"

"Cow eyes?"

"Y'know - big, brown, soulful eyes."

"Can't say that I noticed."

"You, Scott Tracy? Not notice a pretty face? Are you feeling alright?"

"Hard to see it behind the beard,” he deadpanned.

Grandma swatted his arm.

“Besides, she's too young, Grandma. And so is Alan." He returned both photos to her and lightly folded his arms.

"He should be focussing on his studies."

"Oh, like you did at his age?" Grandma arched a brow.

"Scott, honey, your brother isn't twelve anymore."

Scott gave a noncommittal grunt.

"And, as far as I can tell, his grades have been exemplary."

It was true, his grades were well-above average, but Alan was still the baby of the family, and Scott wasn't quite ready to view him as anything else.

"Still, he has enough going on, doesn't he? Between coursework, International Rescue, driving lessons..." he trailed off.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

"He games." Scott offered.

Now it was Grandma's turn to fold her arms.

“Scott, he's twenty next month.”

“So?”

"So…you're telling me that you're happy to risk the life of your brother out on missions, but object to him being happy with someone he loves?"

"Loves? I thought it was just the odd date?"

"Like I said; they've been friends for years. But does it even matter? Date, hook-up, love.

I, for one, am just pleased to see your brothers are all happy with nice people."

"John isn't seeing anyone."

"Why? Did he break up with Ridley?"

"Captain O'Bannon is just a friend. They play handball together, that's all."

"Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?" Grandma chuckled and took another sip of tea.

"Grandma!"

Grandma was the epitome of coy as she gave an innocent shrug.

"You're reading too much into things. What Captain O'Bannon and John have...it's strictly professional! They're work colleagues, nothing more."

"Okay Scott."

"What?"

"I'm just wondering at what point you thought International Rescue had become a nunnery?"

Scott cleared his throat.

"I - don't…think that”

He idly picked at a stitch that had come loose on the sofa.

“What I meant was, surely if they were all in relationships, they'd just tell me?"

"What? So you could give them the same reaction you gave me just now?"

Scott stood, and slowly paced in a circle as he digested.

"Is that how they see me...a prude?"

"No, I wouldn't say that. They just don't feel the need to run every last relationship by their brother. You sure didn't with your dad or myself when you were younger. We'd still be here today if that were the case!" Grandma gave another wicked chuckle and Scott groaned into his hands.

"Newsflash, your dad and I weren't as blind to those late night study partners as you thought we were. That script is as old as time!"

Scott squirmed as he looked for a way to redirect the focus back from himself.

"I guess Allie's just remained around twelve years old in my head. I blinked and he grew up."

"That's parenthood for you, Scott."

Scott flinched.

"Look kiddo, nobody could replace your dad. You're simply not him. But what you've grown into... well, you've not just filled your father's shoes; you've sized up! Allie has had one hell of a guardian."

The sincerity of her tone brought a lump to Scott's throat. It was all he had ever hoped for. To do right by his family, his brothers…by little Allie.

"You had to grow up pretty fast and I used to worry about the toll that would take on you, but look how much you've grown - from a bereaved little boy to just the finest man! Not just the Commander of International Rescue, but a wonderful brother, guardian and grandson too."

"You're too kind, Grandma."

"I'm merely stating facts. You never stop worrying. Parents, guardians - it doesn't matter. But you can't let that worry clip their wings. It's time you opened your eyes to see how much your brother has grown too. He isn't twelve, Scott; but the wonderful young man he's grown into is a testament to how much love we, as a family - how much love you have poured his way."

#thunderbirds are go #thunderfam #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #alan tracy #grandma tracy #thunderfluff #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy

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mareenavee · 6 months

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WIP Whatever~

Hi friends! I am a bit all over the place. Work across projects, to say the least, has kicked up a bit.

Was tagged by the lovely @thequeenofthewinter and @ladytanithia!

Tagging: @paraparadigm, @changelingsandothernonsense, @snippetsrus, @thana-topsy, @dirty-bosmer, @oblivions-dawn, @kookaburra1701 (SPECIFICALLY YOU!!! >:]), @gilgamish, @archangelsunited, @saltymaplesyrup, @rainpebble3, @throughtrialbyfire, @expended-sleeper, @wildhexe, @elfinismsarts, @polypolymorph, @orfeoarte and YOU because I'm tired, it's almost midnight, and I know I've mistakenly forgotten someone ONLY due to the hour and my cheesecloth brain. But not in spirit. Tag me back!

Without further ado, then!

So this WIP is untitled, and almost done, but I'm back on my second-person weird god voice chaos. Below the cut for a tiny preview! It's for the prompt Overgrown. And KB wanted to read Ennis of Rorikstead for this one when I asked for more of a challenge on a couple prompts. Absolutely fresh out the braincells so, yes. But. FUN. Guess which god-voice it's in!

You have stood tall in fields rife with crops to harvest all your life, and I have kept close by, though you cannot see me. You call yourself Ennis of Rorikstead, but I have always carried your true name in my hands—a knotted rope of a thing, complicated in its simplicity, the sound of it music to the soil beneath your feet. You do not know it like I do. Each seedling that sprouts and reaches toward the sun holds the syllables; each harvest becomes another title. You are, however, aware of a certain darkness. The kind that creeps in shadows sent flying from the setting sun, rays hidden behind mountains and buildings. This is the same shade which has pulled my hands from yours, and continues to keep us separate, hiding under the guise of answered prayers. And yes, things will grow in soil devoid of my touch—but you have long suspected I had been here, once, and was forced away. You do not voice your concerns. Instead, as autumn encroaches on your land, you work and you pray and you wait to see when dawn will break again. You have always felt closest to me in the earliest sunlight. The night, we both know, is another story entirely. Still, I reach through murk as thick as mud in riverbeds. There, twisted between the roots and rocks, the pestilence sleeps. They feed it—your kin, your neighbors, your leaders—with the souls and limbs of my daughters. Their bones sink into soil, once barren, and my gifts upon them are returned to Nirn. Their souls, however, are lost. I do not hold them in my arms. I was not granted the final embrace. You do not speak this fear, though you have toiled with the worry sprouting in the back of your mind.

#MareenaWrites #Ennis #Ennis of Rorikstead #Rorikstead #new fic #fic prompt fill #Surprise Aedra #tes #tesblr #skyrim #skyrim fic #elder scrolls #wip whenever #wip wednesday #fanficblr #writblr #writeblr

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gardensofthemoon · 1 month

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Tidbit Tuesday uh, Wednesday

Tagged by @tobermoriansass to share something I’ve been working on, and decided to post a bit from my longest-running wip in the hope I’d trick myself into writing more consistently. It’s a longer fic that has completely gone off-track — I wanted to write Curufinrod smut and just had to write some backstory, and now it seems that I have my hands on a coming of age, friends to lovers story. Oops.

Amarië takes a jewelled hairpin out of her neat updo, loosening the silver-blonde mane, and uses the blunt edge to cut the stems, gathering the flowers in the crook of an arm. Fragrances rise, heightened by the brisk summer air: ivory lilies and flush carnations, their sap leaking from the ruptured stalks, viscous. Lilting a simple tune, four chords repeating in the same sequence, she braids the flowers in a long garland, setting aside the odd ones with bruised or wilted leafage. She admires her handiwork, pleased, then places the ornament upon Findaráto’s shoulders, looping the garland around his neck. The flawed seedlings are abandoned, stems weeping, next to the flowerbed they have been sundered from.

I have the biggest love/hate relationship with this work, in part because I started writing in bits and half-scenes all over the place and fitting the pieces together is less like assembling a puzzle but rather like furiously jamming them into a mould until they somehow fit. Still, it has such a long way to go.

Zero pressure tagging @polutrope @lakehelevorn @saintstars 🤍

#elio writes #tumblr games #silm fic

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scaredii-cat · 6 months

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I made a basic model in an hour!! Woohoo!!! \o/

#wip #3d model #seedling #dont mind that i spent like 5 hours on a different model (that will not see the light of day)

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raccoonfallsharder · 6 months

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Window Across the Galaxy ✧*:･ﾟ updated 10/26

18+ only | rocket x oc | 17/26 Chapters | WIP | Word Count: pending.

girl falls first; racoon falls harder.

His head is down, and she can see the sullen set of his shoulders. Jolie sets Groot onto the floor gently, and he gallops over to his adopted father and climbs onto a couple crates next to Rocket to watch him while he works. Should she say good morning? Will that just annoy him more? She’s hurt and scared, yes, and even a little annoyed in her more practical moments. But she reminds herself, again, that what this is really a result of - probably, mostly - is Rocket being frightened or wounded, and she doesn’t want him to be alone in that. But he doesn’t exactly look receptive right now. She chews her lip, then winces and shakes her head, and tries to distract herself by doing a quick check on the kitchen cabinets. Most of the dishware is anchored down in the built-in, padded racks that come standard-issue in ships these days, but a few of the plates are chipped on the edges, and one of the new glasses is cracked down the middle. She tosses the glass into the compressor. All in all, the damage is less than she’d expected, and most things are salvageable. She hesitates, then heads to the hold, peering out into the forest, toward the spaceship Ego left behind. Rocket doesn’t spare her a glance.

[NEW 10/26] ✧･ﾟ:*Chapter XVII. A Seedling. A Fox. A Little Girl. in which the party is divided.

lots of angst. healing isn't linear but rocket is in a much better position to come back from the consequences of his actions now than he was way back when they were on conjunction. unfortunately there's never enough time for these things, is there ~ ♡

General summary/notes + links to recently preceding chapters behind the cut. let me know via comment, message, or ask if you'd like to be added or removed from my fanfic taglist ♡

Rocket is captured by a Ravager crew hoping to get rich off the excessively large bounty on his head. Throwing a wrench in everyone’s plans is the Terran girl they hired to do some freelance assessing on a recent haul of goods they’ve seized from a Xandaran luxury liner. Oops.

slight AU starting pre-GOTG volume 1 (but will hit most of the same major plot points). slow burn + eventual smut with a lot of pining in the middle. kinda enemies-to-lovers? (but only one of these idiots thinks they're enemies). let me be real with you: this fic is really about wish-fulfillment. not just the eventual smut (but that too). mostly i just want someone to be nice to my best boy raccoon

*･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*

Chapter I. A Delicacy. in which our reluctant heroes meet atop a crate of Sovereign porn in the bowels of a Ravager ship.

Chapter II. Monster For A Pet. in which one hero wrestles with his inner Groot, and the other is quite possibly a moron.

Chapter III. A Kindness. in which Rocket gets in his own damn way: not for the first time, and certainly not for the last.

Chapter IV. Got There First. in which our heroes obtain an arsenal and street food.

Chapter V. Things No-One Has Said Before. in which one hero refuses to babysit and the other refuses to leave.

Chapter VI. Two and a Half Billion Units. in which we lean into the “they were roommates” trope. Jolie has misgivings, while Rocket has fantasies - about getting rich, of course.

Chapter VII. I'm Here. in which we visit Knowhere.

Chapter VIII. The Care & Feeding of Human Pets. in which our heroes practice breathing and we lean into a new trope: “there was (technically) one bed.”

Chapter IX. Scrapmetal and a Dream. in which we redefine homemaking.

Chapter X. Thin Fucking Ice.in which our heroes get fucked. Not in the good way.

Chapter XI. Let It Be .in which Xandar is saved and good lives are lost.

Chapter XII. So Much It Hurts. in which we try not to fuck up the vibes.

Chapter XIII. Don’t Wait. in which a lost sister is found and Drax grapples with the concept of sarcasm.

Chapter XIV. Exactly Like a Flower. in which comfort is shared.

Chapter XV: Galaxy-Breaking Shit. in which more comfort is shared, and life is good. Briefly.

Chapter XVI. Run. in which Rocket falls victim to his superstitions.

Chapter XVII. A Seedling. A Fox. A Little Girl. in which the party is divided.

Chapter XVIII. I Happen to Know a Guy. in which our heroes get fucked. Again. Still not in the good way.

Chapter XIX. He Was Loved. in which a planet is killed, a friend is made and lost, and nobody still has any frickin’ tape.

Chapter XX. Some Nerve. in which an ultimatum is given.

Chapter XXI.

Chapter XXII.

Chapter XXIII.

Chapter XXIV.

Chapter XXV.

Chapter XXVI.

Epilogue: Interviewing Rocket & Jo. ten years after Window ends. short/drabbly, silly fluff.

taglist ♡ @evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @pretty-chips ♡ @suicidalshitstick

#rocket raccoon fanfiction #window across the galaxy #rocket x oc #eventual smut #slow burn #enemies to friends to lovers #rocket raccoon #angst with a happy ending #rocket raccoon x oc #gotg fanfiction #guardians of the galaxy #rocket x you #romance #ao3 author

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violetfairydust · 5 months

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WIP Wednesday

Thank you for tagging me @dear-massacre! I thought I would share more from my lifeguard!Derek fic.

This water was different. It wasn’t as clear or as green. The reflection from the glass ceiling created mirror images of the hotel. Kids running in their swim suits and carrying buckets. Most of the families walked passed the pool and Stiles and Derek were left relatively alone. The tiles were slick with water splashed by the teenagers that had already left. Stiles peered at it as if he were looking over it from a great height. His bare foot slid in a puddle and Derek placed his hands on Stiles’ shoulders to steady him.

“Are you okay?” Derek whispered.

The burning came back and he could feel the teeth tearing at his flesh. He looked down at his leg to make sure it was still there. Thick blood oozed from the marks that would stain him like wine.

“Stiles?”

He looked back at Derek and then at his leg. There was no sign of any major trauma except the few puncture wounds covered in gauze.

“This isn’t the ocean,” Derek said softly. “There are no sharks in the water. Nothing in here can hurt you.” He followed Stiles’ gaze to the slightly upturned edge of the pool. There was a dry spot close to the three foot marker.

“Do you want to just sit down? You don’t have to get in. We can take it slow.”

Stiles didn’t speak, but he got on his knees to sit instead of crouching. He looked over the edge. The jets created a ripple effect in his reflection, but Derek’s was left untouched. Stiles almost scoffed. Apropos. He was the wounded one and Derek was flawless. The kindhearted man who saved his life and was willing to help him get used to the water.

Stiles looked over at Derek and smiled.

“Is this okay?”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

After a moment of silence for whatever seedling in Stiles’ chest was trying to sprout, his eyes fell back to the pool. Apropos. Seeds needed water to sprout. Maybe not apropos, just ironic. It was always something resting just below the surface that caught him off guard.

#my writing #snippets #still looking for a title for this one #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sterek

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beck-a-leck · 1 month

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Writing Patterns/First 10 Lines Tag Game

tagged by @thychesters Thank you!!

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern!

(I might break the rules a little bit, because a lot of my most recent fics are multi-chaps, and long running ones at that, or they're prompt collections. So I'll be taking the most recent opening lines, as opposed to the very first lines and I'm going to take from pieces posted within the last year. I'm also gonna repeat one fic, since I started posting it last year and it's been my most active WIP since then.)

1. Little Runeys - Ch 16 (The RF4/SW AU): “Dank farrik!” Frey swore sharply as she narrowly avoided taking a hit right up her thruster. “These Imps just can’t cut a girl a break.” She turned her head to look over her shoulder. “How are those guns coming, Lest?” 2. How Far Ahead The Road Has Gone - Ch 14 (The Hobbit): When Bilbo woke, she was burning up. Someone had draped an extra blanket over her while she had been sleeping, but considering the chill in the air, she shouldn’t have sweat beading on her forehead. It was dark, must have been the middle of the night, Bilbo couldn’t see anything around her except the shadows of whoever was on watch against the low glow of the fire, but from the snoring she suspected nearly everyone else was asleep. 3. Home For The Holidays (Grand Bazaar): Despite the bone deep exhaustion, the heavy pack on his back, the feet that ached with every footfall, and the remnants of a cold lingering in the back of his throat and sinuses, Lloyd still got a spring in his step when the familiar landmarks of Zephyr Town came into view. With renewed vigor, he hitched his pack up a little higher on his shoulders and hurried down the road. His heart seemed to lighten with every step forward, and a small smile began to curl across his tired face. 4. Earth and Rebirth - Ch 20 (Trio of Towns): Summer was in full swing, painting the mountain in shades of green as the plants spread out their broad leaves to soak up every bit of the hot sun as possible. Life was getting busy on the farms and in all three towns, as the first of the summer crops were ready for harvest, and tourists were flocking to the picturesque mountain for vacation. Holly was kept plenty busy herself. 5. How Far Ahead The Road Has Gone - Ch 1 (The Hobbit): When Bilbo Baggins left the Shire in the company of Thorin Oakenshield, she had not known she was pregnant. The thought of it being a possibility hadn’t even crossed her mind. 6. Adored (Rune Factory 4): Frey pushed blindly into her room. It was late, her heart was heavy, her soul weary. Tonight was her last night in Selphia, and as exhausted as she was of dealing with people, Frey so desperately did not want to be alone. Perhaps it was why she lingered so long with the others until she had to listen to Volkanon's good sense and turn in. Otherwise, she would be utterly exhausted tomorrow, and she would need to be sharp, embarking on this next journey alone. 7. At The End Of All Things (Spiritfarer): Buck didn’t see his death coming. 8. Our Dear Empress - Ch 9 (Rune Factory 4): Frey woke up early. Early enough that the sun had not yet risen, and she couldn’t even hear the quiet stirrings of life in the camp. She was accustomed to waking at the break of dawn, but even this was too early for her. She lay there in the dark, listening to Forte breathe steadily from her bedroll on the ground beside her. It would be wise to sleep some more, but even as the thought crossed her mind, Frey knew she was not going to slip back into slumber again. 9. Seedlings and Sprouts - Ch 29 (Animal Parade): Perry wasn’t expecting to be awake at this hour, but for reasons unknown to him, when he had laid down to sleep that night his mind refused to quiet, and he could not relax. So with restless body and mind, he got out of bed. If sleep was not coming to him, there was plenty of work he could do. Perhaps sorting through old church records would bore him to sleep. 10. And Omega Remains - Ch 2 (The Bad Batch): “You might know me better than you think.” The woman crouched down and removed her glasses. Brown eyes met identical brown eyes. "We’re sisters, Omega."

It looks like most often my opening lines are spent doing some scene setting and getting into the POV character's shoes. Occasionally I'll drop right into the action or pick up where a canon scene left off. But for the most part I get pretty quick to answering Who? Where? and Why? Not surprising for the prompt collections, where I'm usually getting right to the point of the prompt. And in the multi-chaps it's a good way to show that some time has passed between where the last one ended and the new one picked up and catch readers up. A lot of character action happening in the first sentence or two. And a lot of characters waking up 😂

I think the biggest exception to this trend is the opening lines of "Road" which is a succinct 'this is exactly what the story is going to be about' opening line.

Oh man I guess I should tag some folks. How about @jessi-08, @durotoswrites, @emeraldhazeart, @lookforanewangle, @jake-marshall

And if you want to play along and I didn't tag you, feel free to say I tagged you. My brain goes instantly blank any time I need to tag people in games like this and suddenly I don't know anyone who writes 😂

#tag games #becky writes things

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chrononautintraining · 5 months

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20 questions for fic writers

Thanks for the tag @lindirs-gaze!

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

1,216,174

3. what fandoms do you write for?

My current hyperfixation is The Untamed/Modao Zushi, but I write for whatever. I've got a lot of one shots for properties I think are neat like Welcome to Nightvale or Parks and Rec.

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

A Passion for Mushrooms, Mountain Flowers, The Seedling, Family's Just Another Word for Something Left To Lose, and In Town for the Wedding. Four in Hobbit/LotR fandom and one Naruto.

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

I really try to. I appreciate feedback so much. When I'm in a funk it really brightens my mood, so I want to respond and build community with readers not just drop a story. And sometimes I go months without checking my inbox which makes me feel awkward about replying. It's a mix.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Interestingly, Family's Just Another Word For Something Left To Lose, according to some readers. It's ambiguous at the end and *a lot* of people think Kakashi dies, which is not at all my intent. I was paralleling the same scene with Iruka in the anime, and Iruka survives. It did not occur to me that the ambiguity would be what so many people took away.

The one I wrote that's intentionally angsty at the end is all i hear is your gear, which has no happy intentions and is all just about Crowley being a demon in hell.

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

So much of my stuff is romance with a traditional HEA ending, but weirdly the ending I like most is A Spy in the Shire. It's a happy ending for this one oc dwarf, but in the broader context of the series I think it both emphasizes the Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies AU happiness as well as justifying the many sacrifices made in canon.

8. do you get hate on any fics?

yeah for sure. And I am sensitive about it. If it hits me when I'm already feeling low, I usually have to stay away from fandom spaces for a while and I often lose the motivation to write at all. It sucks. Some of it I can brush off more easily, like the Iruka/Kakashi shippers who come onto my fic to make fun of the way Mighty Guy looks and try to pick a fight. They are likely children and I just don't engage. But the people who criticize my writing or a specific story for reasons they are happy to detail can be harder to ignore.

This is of course a very different thing than the helpful folks who point out that I've once again mixed up desert and dessert. Y'all are lovely and I appreciate the help.

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

Yes, as the mood strikes. ...the kind I'm in the mood for? Almost always romantic stuff between a major pairing.

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Listen. Ron Swanson and Wolverine would be very good friends, actually. My Parks and Rec / X-men crossover is not crazy.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! One of my Naruto fics is available in Chinese and two of my Modao Zushi stories can be read in Russian. As I speak neither language, I can only assume the translators did an awesome job of making my writing smarter, funnier, and sexier than it is in English.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I find the idea of collaborating interesting.

14. what’s your all time favorite ship?

This is not how my brain works. I pretty much constantly have a Current Obsession and then pairings I still enjoy. Right now, Wangxian invented love, but I'll always enjoy revisiting a certain romance involving Mister Spock or the Leverage Pretzels and Beer OT3.

15. what’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I desperately want to finish my Zombie Criminal Minds series, particularly because being able to revisit it will mark the end of my pandemic / outbreak related brain gremlins.

16. what are your writing strengths?

speling

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

I'd like to do more with humor. I feel like I frequently manage to provoke a sensible chuckle, but I've read fics that make me crack up. Someday, I'd like to write a really Terry Pratchett style laugh-a-minute story.

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Sometimes you gotta do it, because it's in keeping with the canon, but it's always best to do sparingly. If it's longer than a greeting or an honorific, I like to translate directly within the narrative or use a footnote.

19. first fandom you wrote for?

Slayers. Yes, I was that anime kid in high school.

20. favorite fic you’ve written?

My favorite child? Well, I've never really cared for Pit Stop...

I suppose, back against a wall, I enjoy the world building in None So Blind. We just don't spend enough time in dwarven spaces that aren't complete ruins in the canon. Coupled with thoughts on fantasy accessibility and the classic trope of tripping a romantic lead into a pile of literal pig shit, I just like it. Good work, 2018!me.

If you'd like to play, please pretend I tagged you! For the meme, I'll invite @youhideastar, @primtheamazing, and @sunshine304

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