#wip: forged with fire

[wyvernwriterparttwo]

Wulf, Alpha's Arrow

He/They

"I'll be the one to liberate Pakwil from my father's dark clutches. It deserves to be the free, peaceful country it used to be. And maybe someday...I'll be able to lead it down that path myself."

Wulf is the bastard child related to Lord Leaster of Pakwil, the eastern country with mountains, rivers and steppes. Leaster does not know this, but actually...Wulf is alive, despite his attempts to forget and discard him.

Leaster, much to his dismay, married an elven woman named Elizabeth who have the blood of a hero in her veins. He did this to hopefully bear a child and have someone who could wield his countries legendary weapon.

Unfortunately, he...did not get his chance. Elizabeth had a child with her bodyguard, Faust, making Wulf a bastard.

When the truth was revealed, Wulf was thrown out, abandoned and thought dead. Elizabeth, after receiving months of abuse by Leaster, committed suicide. Faust, enraged by what he had done, resigned and searched for Wulf, who had actually been cared for by some mercenaries for quite some time.

Years later, when Wulf learned about what Leaster did to his mother, he grew enraged. And the mercenaries he worked with were furious too.

They decided to stand up to the awful man who had been running their country into the ground and treating his family like nothing. They incited rebellions and fought in many battles in hopes of putting Wulf on the throne and ushering in an era of peace of Pakwil.

Eventually, Wulf sought out the help of The Gilded Guardians, joining them and offering them help after Leaster had declared war on Nowtuol and Cerotia, and anyone else who supported the Guardians.

Wulf is a charming, loyal and easy-going, if not lazy. But when it comes to defeating his father, they take things VERY seriously, switching from elegant and suave to irate and rugged. They're clever schemes and incredible battle prowess have helped him win the favor of the people.

Wulf fears the day where he will have to step up and become a leader of a country. He has lived a very lax and common lifestyle all his life, and has an entire web of relationships and gossip to climb through in order to be ready. He dislikes the idea that he will have to leave his free ways behind.

#fantasy #writblr #my ocs #wip intro #writeblr #srpg #dalgarithronesoflegend #dtol #picrew #hero forge #heroforge #hf #jugdral inspired #genealogy of the holy war #fe4 #fodlan #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem warriors three hopes #this is probably one of the darkest backstories I've made for any character. or stories in general #i feel kinda bad even sharing it #i figured it would be fitting for a game based on the Jugdral series #but i am unsure if it is too dark???idk if i mess up please tell me

[maraleestuff]

Grass: What’s the biggest change you’ve made in your WIP since you started it? Metal: What’s the hardest part of writing for you?

Hi, Eze! Thanks so much for the ask 😊 I’m always happy to gush answer questions about my writing.

Grass: What’s your biggest change you’ve made in your WIP since you started it?

Ooh boy I have several wips that I’ve been bouncing around, but this post would be super long if I listed every single one, so I’ll cover the biggies. *Note* I ended up covering multiple changes lmao

First for my wip, Descendant (since The Guiding Star has been getting a lot of my attention).

It started out very bare bones: my protagonist, then named Leigh Orythala, was imprisoned for having magic in a nonmagic regime. An assassin cult started targeting the Queen, and the Queen pardoned Leigh, tasking her with rooting out the cult before allowing herself (Queen) to be captured. I don’t entirely remember the relevance of Descendant to the story—the notes I had for the concept didn’t cover that.

As for the changes…Leigh Orythala was changed to Eirian Orythe (though I’m still weighing whether to give her a surname). I still have a cult/ conspiracy for Eirian to root out, but instead of being pardoned, the Queen Aurelia—or Queen-to-be, in the current concept—secretly helps Eirian escape to investigate/ clear her name. I’ve also added a Magical University, where Eirian will investigate the conspiracy and study/ practice her magic in earnest. I can’t say much more without spoiling (I want to gush about it so badly tho) …but I will say that Aurelia isn’t as well intentioned as she seems.

The other WIP I want to mention is Forged in Fire. I still haven’t made a page for it yet, but it’s a Skyrim fanfiction that follows my Dragonborn Artemis through her adventures. This one’s been a wip of mine for a long time (a few years now, I think) and is arguably the one that has gone through the biggest changes—and yet it kind of came full circle?

It started out with my Dragonborn, Alessandra, in hiding as a blacksmith—technically a jewel smith, as I had her craft wedding rings. The original title was When Darkness Falls; it was meant to be a metaphor, a “you can only see the light when darkness falls” sort of thing. (Forged in Fire is also meant to be a metaphor for the struggles that Artemis goes through—and a reference to Artemis as a smith.)

Artemis went through several names after Alessandra—Sage, Artemis Fairyn, Vyriana “Vyri”—but eventually I came back around to Artemis, an archer as well as a smith. She does have an alias—Vyrkaire, as I couldn’t quite let go of the “Vyr”. I like the sound. Though some details have shifted, her background remains the same: half-Snow Elf, in hiding (from those who killed her mother), and making a quiet living as a smith.

Metal: What’s the hardest part about writing for you?

Finishing a long term project/ one with multiple chapters. I have the most fun brainstorming, creating characters, finding perfect moments for plot twists, and daydreaming scenes—but I’ve still yet to see through writing them to completion.

But baby steps, of course. My current draft of The Guiding Star is around 10,000 words (still need to write act three). Descendant is about 6,000 words (at the end of act one). And Kosma is around 5,000, still in the beginning act.

#ask game #ezestreet #wip: descendant #wip: forged in fire #it’s after midnight so hopefully this is coherent #gushing about my wips #I have plot twists/ points I want to gush about but it’ll spoil my wips #the struggle is real #writing #wip ask game

[sweettee18]

“Forged In Fire”

WIP

#sketch #drawing #forging #fire #reflection #WIP

[nvirskies]

little snippet of the clarisse x daughter of hephaestus thing that blew up a couple days ago in the works!

title (wip): it's getting hot in here

unedited rough draft!

lmk if you wanna be on the taglist for this and/or future clarisse pieces!

It was no secret the kids of Cabin 9 ran a side business to make some extra cash. It was pretty lucrative, given that there would always be a line of demigods waiting to have their weapon(s) of choice customized. Custom engravings, patterns cast into handles, ergonomic handpiece add-ons, and so much more. Name it, and it would be done for the right price, forged with impeccable quality.

And that was how Clarisse La Rue found herself heading to the forge just east of the strawberry fields with a thin paper in one hand and a small bag of golden drachmas in the other. The edges of the slip were just barely singed, and the writing on it looked nearly incomprehensible to many eyes, scribbled notes of her order confirmation and gods only knew what else. It didn’t matter to her, she just needed it to get her dagger and go.

Crowds parted for her like the Red Sea, once-lively conversations coming to a grinding halt as she walked straight through crowds and groups with nothing more than a glare and a sharp look in any general direction. 

In no time at all, the familiar sounds of machinery clanking, fire hissing and crackling, and hammers striking metal filled the air. The forge, the singular place where one could guarantee there would be at least one child of Hephaestus in there at all hours of the day. 

She pushed open the heavy metal door, swinging it wide open soundlessly despite its obvious weight. And what a sight she was greeted with. You were there alone, hunched over a piece of blisteringly hot metal, pounding away at it with a hammer in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other.

Something about you entranced her. 

#🗡️ nvirspeaks #🖋️ nvir writes #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x fem reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x fem!reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue pjo #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse pjo #clarisse larue #cabin 9 #daughter of hephaestus #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo tv #percy jackson and the olympians

[finniigan-fr]

Modelled a little forge for my blacksmith Pearlcatcher, Ember :3

Yes, he has a wooden workbench and a barrel full of coal next to an open flame,, his ass is NOT sornieth osha compliant!

also i may have forgot his pearl and whiskers uhhh just pretend he left the pearl inside and he burnt his whiskers off when he leaned over the fire one time (again... he is not operating a safe business by any means)

plus some wip pics if youre into that sort of thing

and heres what hes gonna look like once i gene him up! still need to save up for a trans scroll and all the genes lol

#fr fanart #flight rising art #flight rising #pearlcatcher #blender 3d #low poly #3d model #flight rising pearlcatcher #flight rising fanart #fr fanart friday #what even is the fr friday art tag anymore asjdhsfdsjh it changed at one point and idk what it is now #anyway this took me like 3ish days? im putting it in wip hell for now but it looks pretty good as is so im happy #i havent messed around in blender for a long time cos i made like 3 attempts and did so terrible each time #but apparently i learned something each time from the failures since it felt a lot easier this time #i can tell im not using the cleanest or most efficient techniques and i know nothing about nodes xD but im slowly improving!! #anyway im taking a break from modelling to work on comms again now! and to look for a job sdkfj #mine #my art #finn.txt

[spideronthesun]

WIP INTRO—TALES OF THE OAK AND LIGHTNING

GENRE | Urban fantasy - Baltic mythology retelling.

SETTING | A rural countryside.

STATUS | Editing / Planning to query in Spring-Summer 2024.

POV | Multi-POV 3rd Person.

THEMES AND TROPES | Found family, the chosen one, the reluctant hero, family secrets, the power of friendship, dealing with loss, paying the price, religious trauma, religion and devotion, friends to lovers.

WARNINGS | Death, fire, creepy settings, alcohol abuse, horror elements.

BLURB

In the heart of Lithuania’s countryside, Adamas and his four brothers return to their childhood home after thirteen years. Little do they know, their reunion unveils a destiny forged in the shadows of the dense forest. The pages of their mother's missing will reveals the prophecy of five brothers in magic as the lost Sons of Oak. Determined, Adamas embarks on a journey to uncover the secrets hidden within the family tree, filled with betrayals and sacrifices. He meets in his path, the protector of thunder, Medeina. She shares the secret of how their mother sealed their fates, making a deal where she gave up her powers in order for them to have a chance at a normal life. However, the strength of the brother's connection is about to be tested. The forthcoming reappearance of a god from the past may unveil the cost of their mother’s bargain struck long ago.

Leave me a comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

#wip intro #wip introduction #writeblr

[tanoraqui]

queenship under siege and there's a WHAT in this mountain?! (LotR)

[re: badly described WIPs fics I almost certainly will never actually write - in the lead with 17.5% of the vote as of midnight 3/3/24]

I know I’ve said this before, because I do love it so, but:

The only reason, the ONLY reason, I would ever want the Arkenstone to be a Silmaril is this: the day after Aragorn leaves Rivendell with the Fellowship, Elrond summons Arwen to his study and bids her to go to Erebor.

"What?" she demands. "Surely I am needed here, or out in the wilds, marshaling the Rangers - "

"Your brothers will manage that, after they escort you," her father insists. "You must go to Erebor, and ask Dain to let you open Thorin's tomb, that you may look upon the Arkenstone. Gloin will help you - I spoke with him ere he left. Don't let anyone else know your purpose - as far as the world is concerned, I am sending my only daughter to a safe stronghold until Mordor is defeated."

"Are you not?" she cries. But he will explain no more than, "I think the jewel may be important to our oncoming war, but I wish you to assess it unbiased" - and he gives her two letters to read only once she's made her own judgement of the jewel.

So Arwen goes. The Misty Mountains are crawling with orcs, but in cloaks woven by their grandmother, she and her brothers slip through with only a few close calls. Elrohir and Elladan don't know why she's going even a little, save that their father bade it and (he said) their grandmother supported it. The problem with having Elrond for a father and Galadriel for a grandmother is that, while technically they may each be wrong at times (allegedly), in agreement they never are.

It's nice to have what may be one last journey with her brothers, at least. All three of them know that Elladan and Elrohir will soon be in battle alongside their cousins the Dúnedain, and for all Erebor's strength, it will soon be under attack. Rivendell might soon be under attack. Lothlórien might soon be under attack.

The twins leave almost as soon as the three of them arrive; they have other work to do. Dain barely protests letting Arwen mildly exhume his cousin in order to assess the famous jewel - he doesn't quite like letting an elf(ish person) near the Heart of the Mountain, but he is very worried about the black-armored army lurking across the River Carnen, and respects the wisdom of Elrond and his immediate kin.

Arwen sees the Arkenstone sitting calmly in the hands of of the fallen king, and she sees it clutched in the burning hand of a no-longer-king, fallen free from a twisted iron crown, stolen over a king's bloody body, hallowed by a Queen, forged in a fire like the world never saw again... It glows softly; its light matches that of the small crystal that hangs around her neck now, one of a set of three.

[Here me out: Galadriel made three: one for Celebrian and Elrond as a wedding gift, jointly from herself and Eärendil; one for thw twins upon their birth, and one for Arwen upon hers. Celebrian left hers behind when she Sailed; Galadriel gives it to Frodo.]

The letters are from Elrond and Galadriel, respectively. They say much the same thing:

I'm so sorry to spring this on you, and to make you a guardian of this secret

If the Ringbearer's quest fails and the Enemy regains his full power, please take the jewel (as freely giving by the dwarves if at all possible) and use it however you can to save everyone and everything that you can. (Elrond's says, "My parents will help as much as they can. Do not hesitate to ask for their or any other aid." Galadriel's says, "If you seek Undying Shores with mortals in tow, for succor or for more active aid, hold the Jewel high and beseech first Ulmo and his spirits, and then every single kin-relation you have, no matter the connection. Once you rouse the general populace, then approach the Valar - though don't appear to delay.)

Galadriel's says, "Círdan knows to potentially expect you." Elrond wrote, "If you see your mother before I do", stopped there and blotted it out.

Neither of them needs to say, We will hold the line, to buy you as much time as we can. Both say "I love you", "I'm sorry", and variations on, "I know you can do this."

Arwen made the Choice of Elros several decades ago: to live among Men as a Man, to take up queenship of a people at the start of a new Age of the World and rule until most of those she loved most had passed and it was time to follow as a Man. Now she faces the Choice of Elwing: to leave most of those she loved the most for dead and flee with Silmaril in hand and only the hope of the impossible to save a doomed continent.

(Or, if she was optimistic, the Choice of Lúthien: to face down the Lord of Death and demand back one single most beloved [for Aragorn could not live while Sauron triumphed], and steal him away for many peaceful decades ere doom fell entirely, their own best efforts done. But Lúthien had been, in her glorious way, very selfish, and Arwen was not.)

The reason I haven't started writing this fic and probably never will is that I have a perfect sense of what I believe kids call the vibes - the mood, the tone, themes, the visual and emotional aesthetic - and none of actual, like, events of the story.

It's about Arwen's final trial of leadership and diplomacy, before she (hopefully) takes up a throne of Gondor, being living with Dwarves for three months under threat and then fact of war. Helping in the infirmary. Participating in strategy discussions, because war isn't her area of expertise but she has participated a few times, in her nearly 3,000 years of life. Mediating as a neutral party on inevitable conflicts between Dwarves the Men, especially in the last week and a half when they're under high stress while besieged together with two kings dead in the field.

Carrying a torch in the deep corridors of the Mountain because she's Mannish enough not to see naturally in the dark. Standing extra watches because she's Elvish enough to see well in starlight, especially if the Star in question is her grandfather; and getting scouting reports from the local thrushes, because they're talkative and Melian's heirs have always had a knack for the speech of birds.

Busying herself with sewing a banner for Aragorn, with jewel-stars and a crown of mithril and gold - for her elders have appointed her as their last hope, and she shall hold it for them and for all the people she can save if in the end she must; but her Estel fights in the field. The night the armies of Mordor cross the river to strike at Dale, she stands on the summit of the Lonely Mountain and calls a friend among the Eagles, who takes the finished banner in her talons and bears it south to where Arwen's brothers and cousins ride to Aragorn's side.

(She shares dreams with him sometimes - but she must keep secret a thought that beats in her like a heartbeat, and he must devote all his thought to the quest and the war. So they don't speak much.)

It's about the crushing weight of history and legacy and the very practical matters of running a kingdom in duress. It's about multicultural exchange. It's about love and hope and a hundred different OCs, most of whom will never be recorded in history books even if they die heroically or steal siege-stores to sell on the black market, or simply live and thus deserve to do so. It's about hard work and mortality.

It's about how 77 years after the Battle of Five Armies, Dain II Ironfoot swings his axe until he falls defending the body of Brand King of Dale, son of Baird son of Bard the Dragonslayer, and their people all take refuge in the Mountain together; and Arwen tends the wounded with the Songs she learned from her father and the neat stitches her mother taught her for first cloth, then skin; and she walks among the frightened people - none of them remotely her people; Dwarves and entirely common Men, mostly descended from easterners migrating slowly west - and knows that if these are all she can save, she will gladly die or live as she must in order to do so; and the people hearken a little to see her pass by with starlight in her eyes and on her breast.

And then - after an eternity of painful anticipation, after what feels like no time at all - the Shadow passes, and the wait and tension abruptly lift.

They very much do still have to go defeat that army before the gates, though.

#my fic #lotr #lord of the rings #arwen #arwen undomiel

[palettepainter]

I’ll be posting a little writing WIP for Hired Sparky later today, but for the Undertale fandom, may I propose an idea with Siren Horror?

I’m a shameless fan of HTTYD and the Sea Beast and 2024 I am dubbing my year of self indulgence so I’m posting this. I might write this if it’s popular enough or if I get the confidence too, but imagine: 

Y/N as a newcomer to a seaside town, neatly nestled on a coastline in the middle of nowhere. It’s bitterly cold nearly all year, and the people are about as sweet as vinegar. But the housing is dirt cheap, considering the looking threat of sirens that infest the waters. Y/N is nearly dirt broke and is looking to build a life outside of their family home, so the unwelcome seaside town it is! Not many people are willing to go fishing in waters popular for siren sightings, so the pay is pretty impressive (even if the work field is a bit competitive at times)

They’re hired onto a boat crew of hardened fishermen who all retell gorey tales of siren attacks in great detail fairly quickly, after doing a bit of research on sirens. The crew are at the point where they’ve learnt to laugh a little, they’ve worked the job long enough that they’re pretty relaxed despite the looming threat of danger on the water. Y/N is not so eased. They’re hired purely as a second hands on the boat: tending to nets and sorting fish once they’ve hauled onto the boat, nothing else. But the captain still hands them a rather heavy harpoon gun with permission to fire if need be. 

They set off into deeper waters where few fishing boats are given the clear to fish, meaning it’s basically free game for anybody with a net to catch fish of all kind. The weather is rough, but the crew bat their hands and say they’ve faced down worse storms 

But then a siren is spotted breaching the water a little ways from the boat. They’re not in immediate danger, and so reader assumes they’ll simply sail out of its line of sight, but the crew already fire a warning harpoon into the water to try and scare it off. For a beat, there is nothing, before the siren attacks the ship - a kraken of all things, one of the most dangerous species, considering its ability to grasp at the ship 

The harpoon has wedged itself into the creatures skull, piercing through the top and dimming it’s eye lights. It screeching, in confusion or anger, maybe it’s the panic coursing through their system, but the protagonist thinks that maybe, their might be fear mixed in with that shrieking. More harpoons and swords are fired at its heaving body, chipping at already injured and cracked parts.

When Y/N is ordered to shoot they instead aim for the rope attached to the end of the harpoon wedged in the creatures head, it grazes the rope, but it’s enough for the creature to snap is with a violently throw of its head. The creature sinks back into the water, the boat tossing from the loss of its weight, sending many of the crew overboard - including reader 

They try to swim back to the boat, but swimming in the confines of a pool to practise swimming in the sea proves that the sea is far more ruthless. They end up being dragged out to sea, climbing to a part of the boat railing that had been snapped off during the attack. Reader wakes up in some kind of enclosed cavern like structure, obviously forged overtime from the waves chipping away at the rocks. They’re cold, hungry, terrified…but alive. And they learn quickly they’re not alone. The siren is nearby, confused, disoriented and greatly weakened from the spear still stuck in their head. They can barely keep their head upright before they topple back into the shallow water with a grunt of exhaustion 

It takes a bit of effort, and gently coaxing, and a hell of a lot of stupid bravery, but when the siren has tired itself out enough and after several failed attempts at trying to swat them away (missing mostly each time thanks to their vision being heavily impaired from their injury) but eventually, the reader dislodges the spear, and is then promptly smacked *hard* and is sent flying into the sand 

Reader is certain they heard something snap as they fall back onto the sand, but miraculously, they don’t collide back onto any rocks. Feeling sore, they sit up, the siren is supporting itself on an arm with laboured breaths, the other clasping at the eye socket on the injured side of its head. Gradually, a red, focused eye light burns to life, focused dead on them. The siren looks at them curiously, as if they’re only just realising it’s alone - Y/N expects an attack, for it to pounce, so something…instead, the siren snorts, shakily hobbling off to the were the water is deepest 

Basically: what if Reader was THERE when Sans got that injury on his head?? The two have been washed into a cove by the tides: Sans is too exhausted to climb out and the water is dangerously shallow, there isn’t enough food for him to sustain himself, and without it, he won’t heal. Reader goes through the whole “Maybe these monsters are only monsters because we chose to see them that way” and overtime the two form a somewhat bond, reader bringing Horror food and such while he heals and Horror showing them that sirens are far more intelligent than what silly books have documented about them 

I’m a sucker for enemies of two separate tribes or species breaking the generational hate and learning to be friends it is SUCH a good dynamic and it scratches my brain the perfect way 

#2024 the year of self indulgence #Undertale #Jusr a tiny bit obsessed with horror siren sans now #Just an idu-bitu #Jk I love him and his design so much #horrorsans #sirentale #Siren horror #Horror sans

[fellow-travelers-fic-recs]

Fellow Travelers Fic Recs | Time Travel Fics

💠 Authors: If your tumblr (or other socials) isn’t linked, and you'd like it to be, let me know and I'll be happy to add it. Or, if you are linked, and you'd rather not be, please contact me to remove it.

✨ Show the authors plenty of love with your comments and kudos on the fics you enjoyed after reading! Likes are lovely, but please reblog to share this content with your mutuals! ✨

🕰️ this is the last time i'm leaving without you by @startagainbuttercup | startagainbuttercup [7K] After saying goodbye to Tim and promising him to not write, Hawk's finds himself in the future, 70 years later. Will everything he learns in 2024 change the past? It totally will.

🕰️ is it over now? by @satelarry | satelarry [18K, WIP] Seeing the love of your life walk away without being able to tell him that you love him has to be one of the worst situations a person can go through. But Hawk decided to fulfill Tim's request, knowing it will be the last.

What happens when he wakes up, 18 years before, with the knowledge of what's going to happen if he makes the same decisions?

Does the ending always stay the same?

Or, the Time Travel AU in which the only thing ruining Hawk's plan is Tim's stubbornness.

🕰️ Again, only better by @madsmeetsmisha | madsmeetsmisha [14K, WIP] Hawk had no idea what was really going on here. All he knew was that he was back in 1954 and a completely distraught Tim was standing outside his door. And he also knew that he certainly wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

🕰️ Sands of Time (Turn Backwards) by @brouill3r | brouiller [17K, WIP] 1987 Hawkins Fuller is full of regrets for the life he's lived, though Tim once told him he regrets nothing. Hawk so wishes he could say the same.

In the still night air of a hotel room, clutching a cracked paperweight to his chest like it's carved of the finest gold, Hawk gets his wish.

Or, a time-travel fix-it fic that nobody asked for.

🕰️ Everything, Everything by tinypurpleghost💠[5K] Hawk wakes up in 1968, and everything is different.

🕰️ Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps It’s Real by drabbleswabbles💠[35K] And then it happened. The metallic screech of the gate, the shuffle of men stepping out beyond the prison walls. And suddenly there he was. His hair was shorter than he’d ever seen it. And his glasses were different. But it was him. Their eyes met. Tim stared at him in wide-eyed shock before recognition melted his features into a confused outrage.

Basically, a fix-it in which Hawk finds himself back in the early 70s.

🕰️ Send Back The World by Anonymous [2K, WIP] There is nothing so bitter as regret. And nothing so sweet as a second chance.

Or, Hawk gets yet another chance to fuck it up again.

🕰️ Til Time Itself Is Through by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) [3K] Tim wakes, soft cotton under his cheek, cool silk covering his body. Bright sunlight streams through open windows, making Tim groan and bury his face in his pillow. It smells faintly like Hawk and his aftershave; heady and spicy and masculine. Tim smiles, curling his toes into the smooth silk below them.

Or, Tim Laughlin gets the life he deserves.

🕰️ this time imperfect by @startagainbuttercup | startagainbuttercup [7K, WIP] 1986. Marcus arrives at Hawk's house and gives him a box. Marcus doesn't know that paperweight in the box is a time traveling device. Will Hawk change anything? We'll see.

🕰️ I Reach for You (And You Bring Me Home) by @misstwentyynine | misstwentyynine [1K, WIP] In 1952, Hawk and Tim meet for the first time at a bar located in the enigmatic paradise of Fire Island, forging a powerful connection that continues to bring them together as their story progresses through space and time.

Or, The San Junipero AU

#ftficrecs #fellow travelers fic recs #fellow travelers fics #ftfics time travel #time travel #ftfics collections #fellow travelers #ftfics mar24

[busymagpie]

Sometimes Maeglin stands in the forge just because the warmth of the fire almost feels like Aredhel caressing his cheeks

(WIP 50)

#maeglin #silmarillion #this one was almost done and then I set it aside and forgot about it #I tried coloring

[swifty-fox]

“What the hell is this, what the hell is this Buck? Huh? What the hell is this?” 

Buck snaps his teeth at Bucky, fighting against his hold. A rabid animal, hydrophobic and foaming at the mouth. Doesn’t John know he’s already dead?

Theres more people, more voices. All clamoring to know whats happened, who attacked who. Bucky grips the shoulders of his shirt, lets him fight it out. Buck can’t bring himself to hit him, even in his rage; he will remember how John’s nose feels breaking under his fist for the rest of his life.

This was the truth of him. He was his fathers son and by god what a nasty thing to be. There had once been a Gale who could lead men and build a radio from scraps and optimism. Who had hope and plans for the future and the belief that the good guys get their happy ending. His imprisonment had stripped him bare and beaten him into hardness. Raped his innocence away same as his life had done from the moment of his birth. 

He truly and really should never have come. He should have known better than a friendship forged in the fires of war could never stand the cold of peace. 

Gale slumps, breath rattling from his chest like chill wind through winter trees and glares past John's ear. He thinks he might vomit if he meets those dark eyes.

He could see the other mans expression out of the corner of his eye. John looked at him like he’d never seen Gale before in his life. Like strangers. 

“Y’done?” John asks quietly. Always so steady, despite the drunken glaze in his eyes.

Gale’s throat feels raw from his breaths. His mouth tingles like acid covers his tongue. He wants to spit and spit again until he feels clean.

“I’m fine.” 

John scoffs but steps back, straightening Gale’s shirt.

There’s a crowd around them, men and women in various states of drunkenness and sobriety. They were all murmuring, a few women had hands over their mouths in horror, as if they’d never seen a man hurt before. Soft, silly americans who’d never had war right outside their front door. -Kfak (WIP 42k)

Gale is Having A Bad Time

#swiftywrites #kingdom for a kiss

[maraleestuff]

Find the Word Tag

I was tagged by @writingpotato07, thank you :) (Little known random personal trivia: the word search/ find the word tag games are my favorite)

My Words: Peel | Dress | Bend | Lonely | Stone

Tagging: @renee-writer, @spellboundinks, @taz-writes, and anyone else who wants too!

Your Words: Envy | Tale | Fill | Order | Device

Peel | The Guiding Star

“Oi!” Collioc, a middle-aged Zarinian with cobalt skin and a grizzled beard, snaps near my face, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Order something or leave. You’re blocking other customers.”

“Right.” I look at the menu board—a hologram screen—though I’ve been here enough times that I probably have the damned thing memorized by now. “Ainead Moonshine,” I order, sliding onto a barstool, the drying leather cracked and peeling from idle fingers. Will Collioc ever replace these stools?

Dress | A Healer’s Lament

“I’m here to help!” I yell. “Call out so I can find you!”

“I-I’m here!” The voice comes again. Not quite inside the ship…

I wander around the hull of the ship. There, in the middle of broken, splintered planks, is a bosmer, leaning against the broken ship. She’s dressed in armor—one of the marines?

Bend | Forged in Fire

A sting cuts like a whip across her shoulder. Artemis cries out, instinctively staggering back, stumbling over the hem of her kirtle. She falls onto her backside, stinging—but its numbed by terror as the assassin bends over her.

Artemis glimpses golden cheek bones under the hood, silver eyes like a clear lake; bright, hungry, feverish with bloodlust. She can easily imagine a feral, unhinged grin under the assassin's mask.

Lonely | The Guiding Star

“Say, I’ve been wondering,” Collioc starts, pulling out a rag to clean a sticky section of the counter. “That tattoo you have”—he nods toward my forearm— “why a compass?”

“A star,” I correct, biting back a sigh. A diamond-shaped star, about the size of a medallion, my tattoo has often been mistaken for the common symbol of a compass. “Polaris.”

“Never heard of it.” Collioc pours another drink, handing it off to a patron.

“It’s the North Star on Earth,” I say, not surprised that Collioc doesn’t know of it; I’m not even sure you can see it in Zarin’s night sky. My father had told me about Polaris when I was younger, in the jumbled memories when the ache of everything became bone-deep and lonely. “Some call it the guiding star.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s it guiding you toward?”

I sigh, taking a long drink. “I’ll let you know when I find out.”

Stone | The Rebel and the Mage

Windhelm appears out of the fog, looming like a fortress in the gray, early morning light. The dark stone walls glint slightly with ice and frozen-over snow. Dockworkers flit back and forth as the Northern Maiden pulls into port.

I shiver slightly, wrapping my cloak tighter around myself. Dunmer clothing is cottony, but meant to keep out ash, not snow—but even then, nothing could've prepared me for Skyrim's bone-deep chill.

Additional notes under the line break

- A Healer's Lament was originally named When Darkness Falls. (There's content under the tag wip: when darkness falls, but the current tag is wip: a healer's lament).

- Forged in Fire doesn't have a wip page — yet.

- The Rebel and the Mage is my most recent wip—I haven't put together a wip page just yet. (It's listed in my intro post as untitled.

- The "lonely" snippet is the first scene idea I had for The Guiding Star and, as you might be guessing, the reason for the story's title. I couldn't help but share the excerpts entirety lol.

#find the word tag #writeblr #wip: the guiding star #wip: a healer’s lament #wip: forged in fire #wip: the rebel and the mage

[dalishthunder]

WIP Whenever

Missed WIP wednesday bc Covid has me in it's clutches, but I'm feeling coherent enough to write again so have this!

When the door to the craft finally closed behind you, you visibly sagged, slumping against the wall with a shaky breath.

“Are you alright?”

“That was Akande Ogundimu. That was Doomfist.” You stared at your trembling hands, “How the hell am I alive…?”

“Because you are with me.”

You continued as though you had barely heard him, your voice still heavily modulated from the mask, “And those others? That omnic, Maximilian? And I’d heard stories about a shadowy figure called only Reaper, but I wasn’t sure that he actually existed. It’s mostly just been a source of speculation, a few blurry videos here and there like fucking… Bigfoot or something.”

You were now almost hyperventillating, quaking like a leaf in the wind, and you clawed at the mask on your face, struggling to find the latches to pop it off.

Ramattra placed a hand on your shoulder, steadying you as the ship began its ascent.

The mask clattered to the floor as you finally managed to tear it from you. Your eyes were wild with fear, and you gulped down air as though it would run out any moment.

He… did not like this look on you.

When had you become such a weak spot for him?

Tell me… what do you see when you look at me?

My friend.

That…was the first thing that had come to your mind when you looked at him.

Not that he was an R-7000, not just a figure of war….

“Do they truly frighten you so much?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

“Humanity has grown complacent in its peace with omnics; Weak and bloated. We have seen where this weakness leads, to crisis, to the brink of extinction. But from the ashes of conflict, we rise. Humanity grows stronger only through our strife, and only through the gauntlet of conflict can we forge our way forward. As the saying goes, the gold that shines must first pass through fire. Akande Ogundimu, Unpublished Manuscript 2, 2071.” Your words were measured again, breaths starting to slow. “There’s a lot more in there, but that was the passage that stood out to me most. He also implied that if he could start a new Crisis, he would. I know… Talon acts as though they’re helping you, but these are very, very dangerous allies.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I told you, I studied them back in college.”

#odt #ramattra #ramattra x reader #x reader #a game of go #wip wednesday #sort of #thunderous applesauce

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

Oops, I've been so crazy busy lately I totally forgot about WIP Wednesday yesterday. Here's a slightly longer B&BT snippet to make up for it... 👀

“What was it like in there? Inside the Cauldron?” Nesta didn't answer. Nothing in the world would make her answer that question to satisfy his curiosity. Nothing in the whole. fucking. world. There were flashes in her memory— the cold and crushing dark, a whisper through the void as her bones were shattered and remade. The Cauldron was a crucible that had forged her into something else, something other, and as something in her chest began to pound, that new ache flared once more in her fingertips. Something cold swept through her, a shadow of the burning the Cauldron had forced through her. Whatever it was, Rhysand sensed it. His eyes widened a little with something that might have been concern, but she wasn't fool enough to think it was for her. No, it seemed unnervingly like concern for what she might do. She wondered what look had crossed her face, what he had glimpsed there that had him studying her so intently. She had felt the fire burning under her skin. What had it etched across her face? She thought of the silver in her eyes she'd glimpsed in the mirror. Was that what the High Lord saw now?

#wip wednesday #...on a thursday #begged & borrowed time #nessian #nessian fic

[greenhousethree]

Masterlist

Welcome! Grab yourself some dragon-hide gloves and a pair of earmuffs. All stories listed below can be found on AO3, and occasionally in other places. For recommendations, search this blog for #fic recs, or feel free to ask!

🌳 Multi-Chapter:

‣ Chasing (WIP) - Ginny Weasley POV. Post-war navigation of life, career, and identity (playlist)

🌿 One-Shot:

‣ Good Enough - Arthur POV, Fifteen 100-word drabbles for his daughter ‣ Harbor - Bill and Fleur post-wedding, DH missing moment ‣ Judas (WIP) - Percy POV, DH missing moment ‣ Defiance - Neville POV, Hogwarts, DH missing moment ‣ Surrender - Ginny POV, Hogwarts, DH missing moment (⚠ Dark) ‣ Standard Operating Procedure - Gred and Forge slice of life, DH missing moment ‣ Exodus - Molly POV, evacuating the Burrow, DH missing moment ‣ Clocks - Charlie POV, the Burrow, post-war musings ‣ In Search of an Oak - Hinny, post-war reunion, songfic ‣ Coming Up for Air - Hinny, late night talks, post-war (1/3) ‣ Like Circles on Water - Harry&Hermione, post-battle healing (2/3) ‣ Drowning - Hinny, late night soul-baring, spring '98 (3/3) ‣ Bookends - Bill and Ginny, coming-of-age and grief, summer '98 ‣ Career Advice (Revisited) - Hinny, the Burrow, summer '98 ‣ Flour, Butter, Sugar, Salt - Harry POV, Weasley post-war Christmas ‣ twenty-two - Hinny seaside holiday, quarter-life crisis, summer '02 ‣ A Soft Place to Land- Hinny, pre-epilogue slice of life (⚠ NSFW)

🌱 Microfic:

‣ Withered - Hinny slices of life (ft. special plant cameo) ‣ Fear - Golden Trio, post-war Hinny fluff ‣ Goodbye - Ginny&Neville, GoF missing moment ‣ Today (In Search of an Oak) - One-shot precursor, post-battle Hinny reunion ‣ Forbidden - Neville POV, forest vibes, DH missing moment

🍃Headcanon and Meta:

‣ Gin and Nev... A Friendship Forged in Fire ‣ Population in the Wizarding World

(Artwork by clevergull on DeviantArt)

#ao3 #writing #fanfic #harry potter

[pickyourpoisonandevolve]

Hey gang! Got a wip here, just seeing if there’s traction for it. I’m so horny for Kratos I PLATINUMED GOW Ragnarok. Now that’s dedication. Also every time I try to write smut it ends up with a mountain of… not that to preface it.

Anywho tell me what you think.

———————————————————————————

He thinks he’s seen enough of Brok and Sindri … well, everywhere, to not be surprised at this point. But his eyes widen as he sees you, in Sindri’s house no less. What a juxtaposition. The warmth of the fire, the spirited and irreverent debate between the Huldra brothers, and you.

You meet his gaze with an easy smile, as he realizes he’s been staring. Just a little bit.

“Hey! You gonna gawk at every lady that walks in here or are you gonna get some work done?” Brok yells in his direction, hands out expectedly. Kratos puts his axe in Brok’s hands along with various materials, not breaking eye contact with you.

“Ah, so that’s the Leviathan axe.” You say, eyes following to the forge.

“You are familiar?” Kratos asks, although it doesn’t quite sound like a question. More of a statement grunted out like thunder in the distance.

“Y/n has a similar, yet still unique, piece herself.” Sindri interjects, handing you your axe, with a little bow. You take it, responding with the same bow, flipping the blade in your hand deftly. “Although, by the looks of things, they’re showing some favoritism these days. I’ve never gotten gold inlay.”

Kratos watches you wince as the brothers explode in response, flinging excuses and retorts as you laugh and stick your hand out. “Y/n.” He hesitates before shaking your hand. “Kratos.” The warmth in his palm, the way your hair falls in your face ever so slightly, makes him forget himself for a moment. Out of curiosity. And a little bit of familiarity.

“… fuckin’ make it yourself next time, then.” Brok finishes. You take your hand back, a glint of curiosity in your eyes as you put your axe away and get ready to leave. “Always a pleasure, fellas. I’ll see you around, kratos.”

Brok waves a hand, partially in response, partially in dismissal. Sindri sends a bemused “M’lady” your way before returning to work.

As Kratos falls back into his normal routine, a question arises and he stops in place. “How was she able to get here?”

“You think you’re the only one keeping us in business around here?” Brok retorts.

#gow ragnarok #kratos #kratos x reader #brok gow #sindri #reader insert