My OC: Seraphina Dekarios (née Damaris), a human wild magic sorcerer who's afraid of her own powers.
My Mods
Snapshots (Map mod for photography)
Spicy Time (Spicy poses for multiple body types)
Cozy Moments (Romantic poses for multiple body types)
Divine Fire (BT1 x BT3 pose pack)
Tavern Tales (Platonic poses for all body types)
Midsize Mistress (Poses for Harrlepspup Custom BT1 mod)
The Blushing Mare (Poses for Sp4rr0wsw3nch's Photobooth map)
Nature's Guardian (BT4 x all body types pose pack)
Hells Hath No Fury (BT3 x all body types pose pack)
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Writing
Sorcery & Scandal - Gale x Seraphina
In a Regency era AU where magic is 'social currency', ladies and gentlemen are expected to marry partners who are highly skilled at wielding the Weave. Mr Gale Dekarios' wealthy patroness, Lady Mystra, is expecting him to make an advantageous match, lest he be cut off from his inheritance from her. Alas, at the start of the new social season, he makes acquaintance with Miss Seraphina Damaris and sparks fly instantly… but for all of Seraphina's other accomplishments, she is not at all magically gifted.
7 chapters | 15,479 words
First Snow - Gale x Seraphina
Post-game domestic fluff in which Gale's new wife Seraphina sees snowfall for the first time in real life.
One shot | 1,549 words
In The Sanctuary Of The Library - Gale x Seraphina - explicit
Gale meets his wife after work as her shift at the library comes to an end - and they discover that there are certain… benefits to having the place all to yourself after hours.
One shot | 3260 words
3D Art
Chosen - Gale
Tranquility - Gale x Seraphina
Undress For Me - Gale x Seraphina (mildly NSFW)
Keeping Warm by the Fire - Gale x Seraphina
A Relaxing Evening In Waterdeep - Gale x Seraphina
Moonlight Kisses - Gale x Seraphina
"We Made It!" - Gale x Seraphina
Ponder The Orb - Gale x Seraphina
Introductions - regency AU Gale x Seraphina
First taste of spring - Seraphina
Gifts & Art Trades
I feel so incredibly blessed to have been gifted such precious things which I deeply cherish. From the bottom of my heart - thank you! 🥹
The Weight of My Heart's Desire - post-game short fic featuring Gale x Seraphina, by bladesingerlily
Spellwork & Starlight - regency AU fic featuring Seraphina, by bladesingerlily
Watch Me Unfold - portrait of Seraphina, by defira85
The Catcident - act 1 short fic featuring Gale x Seraphina, by optimisticgrey
First Snow - 3D art by WildMagicKatie, gifted by optimisticgrey
Thanks for the tags to @the-shadowfell-darkroom @thesanguinesonnet @thecampjuicebox @onlytavs and @litsenn 💕
Sorry if the quality is a bit lacking this time. I completely forgot that I'm leaving for a short vacation tomorrow, so I had to speedrun this tag😭
no pressure tags to @wasteful-sam @bhaal-battle-beer-bard @scoldingdarjeeling @purpleasters-inseptember @michanvalentine @starlit-serpent @fangedgrace @mogruith @monrayne @met-in-a-tavern @ann-bg3-lol
Saelseris as Prince Edward | Enchanted
At this point, it's pretty much an open secret that Sael's character was heavily inspired by Prince Edward. Unfortunately, I happen to have a serious soft spot for that particular brand of charming goofiness. Also, his darling's name is perfectly singable Giselle style. Kehhmm. NIMRIEEELLLLEEEEE
Obscyr as Scar | The Lion King
This one doesn't really need an explanation, just look at his face. They're a perfect match. He’s surrounded by idiots for sure. It's also my favorite photo from the entire set. 💕
Keith as Prince Eric | The Little Mermaid
It's become a bit of an inside joke between me and @bhaal-battle-beer-bard that Keith is so Prince Eric-coded. I mean, he's charming, he's a dog person, he has less enough brain cells to not recognize his girl, it just fits. Also I kinda developed a habit of turning him into a sculpture, but I'm choosing to blame the dog.
Elysande as Bruno | Encanto
This one is a little random, but picture me lying in bed late at night, half asleep, trying to figure out which character she could be. The very first one that popped into my head was Bruno. Though, I can't deny she'd totally enjoy watching telenovelas performed by tiny rats.
Roy as Maleficent | Maleficent
I really don't have an excuse for this one. I just wanted to see this man with horns and wings. Truly groundbreaking thought process, I know.
Shioban as Esmeralda | The Hunchback of Notre Dame
When I think of Shioban in general, actually I have two characters in my mind: Fatima from From and Esmeralda from THoND. These bohemian beauties both have a warm, gentle strength about them that I always found awesome. So yes, it was an obvious choice. 💕
As you are so clued in with the BG3 world, I was curious if you could recommend any fics or writers to read. Preferably Gale/Tav or OC. I don't mind genders but I dont want bloodweave
Im a bit of a sub for angst and no comfort
Hewwo :3 Ahh, thank you for asking <3
Ok, full disclosure: I am “the other wizard” girlie 🤣, so I am not actively seeking out Gale-centered fics 😅 BUT I follow many people who are writing about Gale, so I can recommend them for sure! Unfortunately, I didn’t get to reading all of their works yet, AND MOOTIES, I AM SO SORRY FOR THAT 🥺, but I went through them and gathered information on their works for you :3 For some of the them, I began reading snippets or newer works, and I definitely might be missing out on some of their older works :( But honestly, like, I am 1000% sure their writing is good even if I haven’t started reading their works yet, and you, anon, can choose for yourself whose style you prefer :3
This is also an invitation for mooties and ANYONE really to reblog and add your list of Gale writers for the anon <3
@optimisticgrey For ME, this is the first Gale writer that comes to mind, as I’ve read their works the most :3 You can check the full master post here, but there’s one fic in particular I read in preparation for this question because I’ve been eyeing that one for a while. It is “In the wake of your departure”. OH MAN, this is such a great hurt angst, as a Gale fan, you will be left gutted for sure! And I also loved the “I have known you”, I wouldn’t say it’s SAD sad, but likee… you do feel your heart tingling at the scenario :(((
@warmsummersday “In every universe“ OH MY GOD. I’ve read it so long ago, and I still remember it, it hurt me. :( It is short, but it made me cry hardcore at the scenario. Also, they have a longer fic “Don't forget me”, if you want moarr from them :3
@deianestormborn , a newbie (affectionately <3333), but I know you can expect great things from them <3 Please check the whole AO3, it has HAWT smuts, HOWEVER, considering you need sadder/angstier, I really liked the “Golden hour” - bittersweet and very tender for sure :3
@alpydk has a big collection of Gale works, including great angst and interesting ships! <333
@bhaal-battle-beer-bard - turns out my dearest also has a Gale fic!! I love their writing so much, you will definitely enjoy! <33 Gale x FTav, angst, hurt, sadness "Visions of Gale".
@cep-stories "Threads of fate" - angsty and fluffy Gale x Ftav :3 Also pre-canon, definitely an interesting setting!
@carnivaley "Terms of affection", Gale x F drow bard, and has elemets of angst + pretend relationships, like??? that's cool af!
@heartsong94 has both lighter and darker stories which are very vast, M!Durge x Gale <3, includes post-epilogue sneaky God!Gale content. :3
@renofdragons has a great collection of Gale pairings with other characters, including Karlach, Halsin, Wyll, Astarion AND Rolan wewewwwww :3
@knightofbhaal has spicyyyyyy smuts with MDurge/Gale <3 "Don't fear the reaper" and "Unusual research". Yep. those are hardcore smuts, HOWEVER, I am reading those, I'd say that's pretty ansty, too! ;)))
@gortashsrighthand "Gale's folly" with dark Gale?? Oh hell yeah! On my reading list! But check their complete mastepost for Gale as well, very versatile.
@sol-el writes Gale and MTav, their writing style is etherial and stories are quite unique <3
@shewolfofvilnius and their great, unique fic with Gale x Lia (yesssss, the queen!!!). Fluffy, has angst, and goes unexpected places for sure! <333
@rdekarios - certainly on a sweeter side, but still very worth to check their AO3, because I know for a fact that their Tav, Seraphina, is absolutely lovely!
I cannot NOT mention dearest @kimberbohwrites , who apparently cheats on OUR wizard with Gale :P They have 2 delicious stories with Gale x FTav! "The raven's risk" and "Mistake by Moonrise".
@perpetualmaladaptivedaydream and their AO3 with shorter stories about Gale/Tav, but it has a lot: angst, yearning, sexy times, fluff, and more! <3
@saylofwaterdeep has an absolute goldmine of FDurge x Gale writings, has mystery, dynamic plot lines, and even horror! :3
@asorceresswrites -another great, versatile collection with angsty and sweet stories :3 FTav/Gale
@ashprince-of-bel-air writes a lot about different characters, including Gale <3 Check the full masterpost, their writing is so tight! <3
OK, I think that's it. If I missed someone, please let me know <333
Link to the post that started it all. | Day One. | Day Two. | Day Three. | Day Four. | Day Five. | Day Six. | Day Seven. | Day Eight.
Location is from the Snapshots mod by @rdekarios. We finally got to Gale. Now, is it really a surprise that he left himself for last before one big group day? Of course not. I can go for hours on what that man means to me and for days on what that man means to Deia. Aside from the fact that these two anchored each other through their worst moments far more times than I have fingers, their relationship is... healing, in a way. Not perfect, there are ups and downs. The two of them are far too stubborn and arrogant at times for them not to have issues. But they are wonderful. Deia existed as an original character for 6+ years now, on her own, with the original universe I once created and never ended up finishing. Giving her to D&D, or, in this case, to BG3 and into the arms of companions, especially Gale, was a very good idea. She belongs here.
Gale first treated Deia as a fascinating subject, really. She was dark, mysterious, both sharp and playful. You could never tell if she is going to burn you with words or flirt with you. Sometimes both at the same time. That early curiosity eventually grew into genuine friendship, albeit not without your typical wizard-to-sorceress banter... and because Deia, in general, banters with everyone. After Deia's magical lash, when her flames nearly seriously burned Astarion, that friendship gathered care and worry. Gale was there to help her, showed her that magic can, in fact, maintain many emotions/feelings, and some of them are even the good kind. He showed her that her magic can be controlled and gentle, and Deia, slowly but surely, started to get more confident around spellcasting. Deia trusted Gale rather early, which was shocking for her, and after many vulnerable late night conversations, they got close. When Deia was wounded and nearly died, Gale finally realized that he has feelings for her. Deia, in return, wasn't able to understand that she is falling in love with him, up until once, while tipsy at the Grove celebration, she decided to kiss him. There's a lot to them, most of my Act 1 is written and I am slightly mortified about getting into Act 2, but if I ever post my stories, I do hope you enjoy following their story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am thinking of posting one chapter out of context, the aftermath of Deia's magical lash and Gale's care, but... who knows, eh? For now, enjoy the little snippet below.
The note arrives in a small burst of blue light. It appears beside Deia just after dusk, folded neatly upon itself and sealed with a flicker of silver-blue magic that smells faintly of parchment, rain, and Gale. She arches a brow before she even touches it.
“Dramatic,” she murmurs.
The seal opens beneath her thumb.
My love,
Should you be willing, meet me beyond the old western stones after moonrise.
Dress in whatever makes you feel most yourself.
I find myself very eager to see her.
G.
Deia reads it once. Then again. By the third time, her mouth has curved despite her best efforts.
“Ridiculous man,” she says softly.
Then she dresses. The gown is black, or nearly black, until light catches it and reveals the glimmering thread beneath, small constellations stitched through lace and shadow. It clings where it wishes, reveals where it dares, and turns every movement into a quiet threat. The sleeves are sheer with dark branching patterns, delicate against the pale line of her arms. The bodice laces down the front with a scandalous confidence that feels less like ornament and more like a challenge.
For a moment, Deia stands before the mirror and looks at herself. Really looks. The horns. The scars. The black mouth. The silver eyes. The body she had once treated like a battlefield left behind after slaughter. Tonight, it looks like hers. She touches one earring into place, lifts her chin, and goes to meet him.
Gale has chosen a ruined overlook above the water, where broken stone rises in uneven teeth around a stretch of open ground. Beyond it, the world falls into dark distance. The night smells of moss, cold rock, and candlewax. He has spread a blanket across the ground and weighed its corners with books because of course he has. Cushions rest along one side. A bottle of wine waits beside two cups. Covered dishes sit near a small enchanted flame, and a paper cone of flowers lies half-open near the edge of the blanket, as though he had set it down and then rearranged it three times. Candles burn in little clusters across the stones.
Above them, an aurora moves. Blue and violet light rolls across the sky in impossible curtains, shimmering between the stars and the jagged silhouettes of the ruins. It is illusion, surely. Beautifully made. The kind of magic that cannot help confessing the hand that shaped it. Grand. Tender. Completely unnecessary. Completely him.
Gale stands when he hears her approach. He is dressed simply by his standards, which means he has still managed to look as though he belongs in some poem about doomed scholars and moonlit vows. His shirt is dark, open at the throat, sleeves loose at the wrists. The orb glows faintly beneath his skin, softer now, quieter, like a held breath that no longer rules the room.
He turns with a smile already forming. Then Deia steps into the candlelight. The smile falters. His hand tightens once at his side. The aurora spills color over her shoulders, over black lace, over the silver ornaments near her horns. She watches him take her in. She watches his careful plan vanish from his face for one bare, helpless second, leaving only awe behind. Deia’s mouth curves.
“Well?”
Gale exhales through his nose, almost a laugh, almost a surrender.
“You look…”
“Yes?”
He looks at her for another breath, eyes dark and bright at once.
“Like you came here to ruin me.”
“Did I?”
“I would accuse you of it, were I capable of forming a sufficiently elegant charge.”
“How tragic. I dressed up for eloquence.”
“You dressed up for an ambush.”
Her smile turns wicked.
“And yet you invited me.”
“That,” Gale says, taking her hand as she reaches him, “speaks rather damningly of my judgment.”
His thumb moves over her knuckles. Slow. Warm. Certain. He lifts her hand and kisses it, then keeps hold as he draws her toward the blanket. There is confidence in the way he touches her now, a steadier fluency in his hands, as though he has learned the shape of welcome. He still watches her. Always. His care remains, stitched into every glance, but he no longer moves as if affection requires formal permission at every breath. He knows her. He knows when she leans. He knows when she yields. He knows the difference between a wall and a door left open in darkness. Deia lets him guide her down beside him. The blanket is soft beneath her palms. The candles tremble in their glass. Overhead, the aurora folds and unfolds like silk beneath water.
“You made all this?” she asks.
“I arranged all this,” Gale says. “The sky, admittedly, required some embellishment.”
“Some.”
“A modest amount.”
She looks up at the luminous sweep above them.
“Gale.”
“I have been very restrained this tenday.”
“You decorated the sky.”
“After eight days of heroic self-denial.”
Deia laughs, and he looks so pleased with the sound that she has to look away first. They eat. They drink. Gale tells her what everyone reported back to him with varying levels of usefulness. Wyll praised the kitchen day with suspicious dignity. Karlach provided a breathless summary involving dancing, wine, and the phrase “friendship hostage.” Astarion claimed his day was the most refined, which Gale took to mean there had been theft. Halsin sent a note that smelled faintly of wildflowers. Shadowheart admitted nothing and somehow sounded proud of it. Lae’zel said only, “She performed adequately,” which Gale has begun to understand as alarming praise. Scratch delivered a stick to his tent at dawn and seemed satisfied that the message was clear. By the time Gale finishes, Deia is laughing into her wine.
“You made them all conspire.”
“I invited them to participate.”
“You made charts.”
“Only one.”
“Liar.”
“Three,” he admits. “One of them was more of a flexible outline.”
She gives him a look.
“It had columns,” he says.
“Gods.”
“In my defense, affection benefits from structure.”
“Your affection could invade a small kingdom.”
“For you, perhaps a large one.”
Her smile softens before she can stop it. The night deepens around them. Somewhere below, water murmurs against stone. The aurora paints them in shifting violet and blue, gathering in the hollow of Gale’s throat, touching the curve of Deia’s cheek, turning the candles ordinary by comparison. Eventually, Gale reaches beside him and draws a book from beneath a folded cloth. It is large, leather-bound, and worn already at the edges despite the newness of its pages. Deia recognizes the look of something handled often by restless hands.
“What is this?” she asks.
Gale sets it across his knees, then opens it between them. The first page is full of sketches. A garden seen from above. Pathways marked in neat lines. Notes crowded into the margins. Flower names. Soil questions. Small diagrams of trellises and stone borders. A corner labeled morning sun. Another marked shade for reading. Several possibilities for seating, all of them crossed out and redrawn with greater care. Deia’s hand stills over her cup.
Gale turns the page. More sketches. Wisteria trained over a wooden frame. Heliotrope near a low wall. Herbs in raised beds. A question beside cherry tree, impractical? followed by investigate anyway. Another note reads, ask Halsin about drainage. Beneath that, in smaller script: leave space for Deia to sit with bare feet in grass. Something in her chest closes around the words. Gale watches her see it.
The book is messy in a way his work rarely is. Plans have been abandoned and remade. Ink blots mark places where thought outran tidiness. Several notes argue with earlier notes. One page is almost entirely occupied by a sketch of climbing flowers around a window, with no practical measurements at all, only the line: perhaps here, if she likes morning light. Deia touches the page with two fingers.
“You are serious,” she says quietly.
Gale’s voice gentles.
“Yes.”
Her throat works. She looks through the book again, slower this time, as though each page is a door opening onto a life she had mentioned only once while standing at the edge of leaving.
“You asked Halsin.”
“I did.”
“And likely three gardeners.”
“Four.”
“Gale.”
“One was more of a horticultural philosopher. I regret that consultation.”
A laugh escapes her, small and wet around the edges. Gale closes the book halfway, leaving his hand resting on the cover. Then he lifts his other hand to her face. His palm settles against her cheek. Warm. Steady. Familiar. He brushes his thumb once beneath her eye, though no tear has fallen.
“I do not think I thanked you enough,” he says.
Deia looks at him.
“For what?”
“For keeping me grounded.”
The aurora moves above them. The color slips over his face, and for one aching moment she remembers another Gale: desperate, frightened, reaching for godhood with both hands and calling it salvation because he could not bear the shape of loss. This Gale sits beside her on a blanket with ink on his fingers, a ridiculous sky overhead, and a book full of soil, flowers, benches, sunlight, and effort. The difference nearly undoes her.
“You chose that,” she says.
“Yes,” he answers. “Because you asked me to look honestly at what I was choosing.”
Deia’s eyes sting. She breathes through it.
“I am glad you stayed,” she says.
Gale’s expression softens until it hurts to look at him.
“So am I.”
Her fingers curl around his wrist, holding his hand against her cheek.
“Your humanity suits you better anyway.”
“Does it?”
“If this tenday of ridiculous affection, logistical tyranny, and candle-based excess is any indication, yes.”
His laugh comes out short and quiet. It trembles through him more than it sounds.
“Logistical tyranny,” he repeats.
“You know what you are.”
“I had hoped for devoted.”
“That too.”
His eyes search her face. Deia lets him.
“I love you,” he says.
The words enter the night with no grandeur at all. They need none. They are lower than the aurora, warmer than the candles, steadier than every god whose name has ever passed through either of their mouths. Deia’s grip tightens around his wrist.
“I love you too,” she says.
Gale kisses her. Slowly at first. His hand remains at her cheek, fingers sliding into the dark spill of her hair, careful around the curve of her horn. He tastes of wine and warmth and something trembling beneath control. Deia leans into him, and the book slips a little between them, pages whispering in the grass.
When the kiss breaks, neither of them moves far. Gale’s forehead rests near hers. His breath brushes her mouth. His thumb strokes once behind her ear. Deia looks at him for a long moment. At his flushed mouth. His loosened shirt. His dark eyes trying valiantly to hold softness and hunger in the same careful hands. Her lips twitch. She exhales through her nose.
“Come here.”
Gale barely has time to blink before she catches the front of his shirt and pulls. She lies back against the blanket, drawing him with her. He follows with a startled laugh, bracing himself above her before his weight can fall too heavily. The aurora spreads behind him in violet fire. His hair slips forward. His expression is bright with surprise, fondness, and a sudden, unmistakable heat.
“My love,” he says, voice lower now, “there is dessert.”
Deia’s hand slides up his chest, over the open collar, fingers curling lightly at the back of his neck.
“I’m sure it can wait.”
Gale glances toward the covered dish with heroic regret.
“I was rather proud of the pear tart.”
“Then it will taste excellent later.”
His eyes return to hers. The air changes. Still playful. Still them. Yet warmer now, closer, threaded through with the sweet danger of having nowhere else to be and no wish to be anywhere else. Gale lowers himself enough that his mouth brushes hers when he speaks.
“You are a terrible influence.”
Deia smiles against him.
“And yet you keep inviting me.”
“I have always been a scholar of dangerous subjects.”
“Then study.”
His laugh disappears into the next kiss. The garden book lies open beside them, pages stirred by the night breeze. The candles burn low. The aurora continues its impossible shimmer above the ruins, grand and gorgeous and entirely abandoned as a point of interest. The pear tart suffers neglect. Gale will apologize to it later. Much later.
Hell is empty and all the Devils are here Book One: Dawn
Chapter 9
I followed her willingly—into the warmth of the bath she had prepared, into her embrace, and later into her bed—and the details themselves matter less now than what I discovered there, which was not desire, since I had known desire for years, and not pleasure, since that too was familiar, but love. Affection, and the realization that intimacy could exist without urgency and without conquest and without either person attempting to prove anything at all. Two people could simply be present with one another and find it fulfilling.
I've been tagged A LOT this past week but I had my little creative crashout since I got to actually have annual leave uninterrupted this week and did precisely nothing while my brain reset itself. I had to kickstart it again to start working on compiling the Sword Coast Sapphics zine so that meant I had some time for writing too
I was tagged by my lovelies @faeriiefire @archduchessgortash @rdekarios @cinder-rellish181 @elinorbard AND @optimisticgrey who are all writing beautiful, lovely things of late
I, however, am writing Rhyme's emotional crash now that the world has been saved and she's still a squid
"I'll find the rest of my bags and move them in here."
She froze. "Why."
Not a question. A blunt, hollow statement, as if she couldn't even bring herself to expend energy for the sake of a question. "Because I wish to sleep in here," he said, a slight furrow in his brow, "with you." She didn't say anything further, so he continued. "At least, for the next few nights until we can make arrangements to travel back to Waterdeep—"
"You don't need to pretend for my sake, Gale," she said quietly. Through the psionic connection, her voice sounded flat. Exhausted. Resigned.
"I beg your pardon?" He took a hold of her arm and turned her to face him, but even then, she did not raise her gaze to look at him. "I don't need to pretend at what, precisely?"
She sighed, and when she spoke, she could not hide the sense of deep self-loathing that echoed through their connection and into his mind. "I'm not going to hold you to any promises we made before... before all this," she said, as if she couldn't even bring herself to say it. "The woman you made those promises to was a liar and a thief, and she was actively deceiving you right up until the moment of her death. There's not a soul in the world who would shame you for walking away."
Gale blinked. "Walking away?" he said incredulously.
"I certainly wouldn't blame you," she said, all but a whisper even if he couldn't hear it audibly.
He put a hand on her cheek, and he couldn't ignore the way she seemed to flinch at his touch. "Ryme'dra," he said sternly, "look at me."
She visibly steeled herself before glancing at him, but her gaze skittered away from his again almost immediately.
"I told you that it was my heart's desire to marry you, and nothing has changed in the last two days that might dissuade me from—"
"Gale, I'm a fucking octopus," she blurted out, finally looking at him; the despair that her new and beady little eyes managed to convey despite their inhuman nature was nothing short of gut-wrenching. "I'm the worst kind of monster in the dark, and sticking me in a wedding dress doesn't change the fact that I'm a disgusting, smelly creature that needs to eat living brains!"
"You are not disgusting," he said immediately.
The look she gave him was scathing. "I'm covered in mucus, I can't kiss you, I don't even think I have genitals anymore, and oh yeah! I'm a slavering, ugly, monstrous nightmare. No one expects you to stay with me, Gale, no one would care if you fucking... I don't know, smothered me in my sleep or something, everyone would be grateful—"
He gripped her by the shoulders. "Stop that right now," he said, his voice low.
Guess who is going to attempt to write very physical, non-psionic illithid sex, if you guessed me, you win... the opportunity to read the horrors I'm going to inflict on us all
I shall Uno-Reverse tag, as is customary, and also add @nadas-dirthalen @flamemittens @tociminna @perpetualmaladaptivedaydream and @sleepytimegrrl
Combining prompts because I have a crazy busy week but am trying my bestest. Also, they are all related.
With thanks for the tags to: @bhaal-battle-beer-bard, @bladesingerlily, @kt-catt & @optimisticgrey (and I am SO sorry if I missed any other tags!)
Gentle tags for: @dr4gonwriter, @defira85, @andromedaancunin, @deianestormborn, @ladyofcrowsandcoffee, @oursusanellen, @perpetualmaladaptivedaydream, @worfs-glorious-hair, @lucretiouswept, @unovafarm, @aristenfromwarsaw, @gods-saddest-unicorn, @facetheworldbitch Tagging according to a tag list (lemme know if you wanna be on it!).
Beautiful portrait by the talented @harprdraws
My Win: almost finishing a whole chapter. Writing usually currently feels like dragging words out from the depths of hell and hoping they're not on fire.
It's from SO late into Phina's story that it's not helping move the needle on getting my planned fic written, but all good practise.
For whatever reason, my brain decided I needed Phina and her father to try to reconcile. On her wedding morning. Naturally.
My WIP (the start of the chapter):
Seraphina stared at her reflection in the mirror, her finger curling around a single loose strand of hair in front of her face, trying to coax it into submission.
The fine Sembian silk of her wedding dress caught the morning light from the window, shimmering like starlight as it hugged her body, all the way down to where it pooled at her feet. It had been tailored beautifully. The glossy surface of it fit every contour of her new figure—both the muscles she'd inadvertently sculpted during their time on the road and the edges that had softened to curves thanks to Gale's endless quest to delight her with all the delicacies Waterdeep had to offer since their return.
The fabric seemed determined to lend her a prestige she felt had no right to claim. A sense of belonging in this place which had, until her parents had arrived three days prior, just begun to feel like home. Since their arrival, though, the familiar tug of unworthiness had begun to root itself at the base of her ribs, jabbing painfully with each barbed remark from her mother.
The dress that had, at her final fitting one week ago, felt like a second skin, now belied a confidence she'd let slip away.
Waterdeep's busy streets moved their familiar rhythm below the window of Gale's childhood home, the city's residents entirely unaware of the weight the day held for her.
She drew a slow breath through her nose and held it a moment, trying to focus on each individual sound—horse hooves clipping against the cobblestones, merchants calling out to sell their wares, residents talking, laughing, gossiping—in a bid to calm her nerves.
She carefully let the breath go when a gentle rap came at the door.
"Come in."
The latch clicked.
She turned to watch Tomas step inside, catching the exact moment his gaze settled on her and his face shifted into something she didn't quite recognise. His lips parted. The lines around his eyes crinkled. His usually firm posture wilted, shoulders sagging, as though moved by some invisible weight.
"Oh, my darling girl."
He reached behind himself, fingers fumbling for the door handle without looking, missing it a few times before he managed to shut it behind him. "You look…" he swallowed thickly, his jaw working as he glanced down at the floor, like he was searching there for whatever words had deserted him. When he looked back up at her again, his eyes were misty. "You look lovely."
Her lips worked to perform a smile, though the tightness in her chest didn't abate. "Thank you."
Silence settled across the gulf between them, and Seraphina's fingers locked together in front of her, kneading the skin of her knuckles nervously. Her mind grasped desperately for any conversation starter she could muster up, some tenuous thread of small talk to ease the tension she was sure wasn't supposed to sit between father and daughter.
Last Lines Written (from that chapter):
"We must have been a terrible distraction to mother's work, because she came out to scold us both for making such a racket," she laughed softly. "I remember that you tucked me into your arms—you were still laughing as you kissed my head—and you told me to pay her no mind, because, unlike boring adult clerics, all young sorcerers deserved fun. And they deserved blackberries before supper. I think we must have eaten at least half of the stash we'd harvested just between the two of us."
A lump formed in her throat as she looked back up at him. "That's the papa I keep with my in my heart. He's the one I try to remember. But it's been so long since I've seen him."
Thanks @eliwyntorleth & @alliskit for the tags, this was fun! I only did Alyss for this one, because the Picrew just wasn't producing a Wren.
Picrew here and quote generator here!
Here's Alyss along with a "we have Tara at home"-style friend, and her quotes.
Alyss: To everyone who has treated me poorly: I am sexier than you.
The generator says "incorrect quotes" but I am pretty sure these are accurate transcriptions from the Dekarios household.
Alyss: My hands are cold.
Gale: Here, let me hold them.
Alyss: My lips are cold too.
Gale: covers Alyss's mouth with his hand
Alyss: What are you in the mood for?
Gale: World domination.
Alyss: That's a bit ambitious.
Gale: You are my world.
Alyss: Aww…
Gale:
Alyss:
Gale:
Alyss: OH.
Alyss: Is something burning?
Gale, leaning seductively on the counter: Just my desire for you.
Alyss: Gale, the toaster is literally on fire.
Little tags for @naiatabris, @unovafarm, @cinder-rellish181, @hollowharpwrites
If anyone else likes Picrews and wants to be tagged, let me know!
